PART FIVE e - Vaquera

  Wow. Bath time care? Perfection. My fun soak and pampering day spa? Another perfection. The only difference, he didn't get in with me. He knelt in the corner, for naughty corner time while I had an extra long soak when he was done pampering me. I observed idly, with a hot washrag over my face, rexing.

  "You could be in here, but… first? Your ass. No sitting. And second and much more importantly? You can't handle normal time that well. So…"

  I got carefully dried off, then it was time for an early bed. When he went to get into bed, I kicked him off, literally.

  "Uh uh. No way, mister. You talk to me like I'm some kind of dog? You sleep on the floor like a dog. Sweet mommy really caves in, huh?"

  I handcuffed him with the long chain cuffs on his wrists wrapped twice around the bedpost near the floor at the foot of the bed. After the light was out, I simply spoke to the dark.

  "I took you to the bathroom before bed for a reason. You wake me up, or piss my floor? Brush time. Night-y night."

  In the morning, I took him to pee. He had to wait till I took mine. Then? I made him clean me off, instead of dabbing off with a single piece of toilet paper. He cleaned my wee hole, my clit off? With his tongue. Just for about thirty seconds or so, and a brief cleansing series of doggy licks around the outside. When I threatened to get enjoyment starting? I smacked him smartly across the face.

  "You're to clean it up. Not please me."

  I let him pee after I was done and he had cleaned me. He looked at me with trepidation, as I had a morning drink of water from a disposable cup from the dispenser by the sink. I smiled at him.

  "Don't worry. I'm not that mean…"

  I flushed before making him have his morning doggy drink.

  "See? Sweet mommy strikes again. A complete pushover. Come on. You're allowed to dress me."

  I had the brush, which I showed him kneeling in front of me at my feet. I pointed to the chair.

  "I'm not saying a word. Other? Than no little kisses. You don't get to please me. Now… impress mommy."

  I must say, much like the shower care, and the bathtub spa pampering? Near perfection. A thought drifted through my mind. Was I seeing the truth in the school of thought, that a girl was better off being a complete bitch and non-redeemable cunt, 24, 7, 365? Reasoning from those types being along the lines of… hey, I'm getting treated better, by better, than you are, nice girl. Do the math.

  No. I pushed the thought from my mind. I was seeing temporary attention to detail, in an attempt to get out of the doghouse and kiss and make up. If I kept this up for the life of the retionship? I would get… the usual. The retionship would go to shit, after I got my attempts to win my favor for a long while. When you withheld past that critical tipping point though? Apathy struck, and dug in deep roots. Why try past the bare minimum, it gets the man nowhere. Why should he invest more into a bet not paying off. The retionship drags on, with apathy and bare minimum… on extended life support. Until one or the other pulls the plug.

  He taught me, what his dead sigma sage had taught him. Namely, you want different results from the others? Don't do what they're doing. For a start, try the exact opposite and refine it from there. No "Retards Monthly" advice being followed here. I chastised myself for allowing the fleeting thought to even be entertained, before banishing it for good. When I gave in and kissed and made up, then showered him with sudden goodness? It would be appreciated.

  I allowed him to give the kisses to my soccer spikes. I watched with strange fascination as he all but made love to my damn soccer spikes on my feet. Big kisses and doggy licks. If that was all he was allowed to have, he took it greedily. Wow. What kind of attention was my clit going to get soon, huh? Just… wow.

  We worked each other out to almost death. Actually great, he was preparing me for preseason camp. On a deserted back corner of the outside perimeter we ran? I stopped and snapped my fingers and pointed down. Mud puddle from the rain. Doggy drink. I spit in it first. Then, I went back to running him. Which of course simply ended up mister long distance endless wind damn near killed me. Which was a weird strategy to get optimum results. Sigma couple strikes together. With an odd, yet surprisingly superior strategy.

  After the extended workout? I naturally allowed him to undress me. I took my sweat soaked practice socks, and allowed him to pile up the rest.

  "Open."

  Rammed in tight. I showed him the bar of soap? Gently smmed it on the dresser, as a warning. The big brush went next to it. After a couple of hours, I was sure they were soaked, and he was sucking on them to get a good taste of my dirty workout socks. Ew. I missed fetch, while he still had my filthy workout socks in as a correction measure. No open mouth? No naked fetch fun. I finally took them out, and had him dispose of them into the washer. I must say, chores had been performed exempry.

  When the dirty socks came out after a good couple hours? I had him get me the bar of soap and the big brush and hand them to me. The look on his face was priceless. I ran the feared brush over him, and tapped his naked behind with it gently as a warning. I waved the bar of soap around, in much the same manner as I had threatened the brush, but let it pass over. Like the angel of death passing over a firstborn house in Egypt. He seemed about as relieved. I told him to put the soap where it belonged, and he looked at me. After a couple hours, twice that would be bad on him.

  "I meant, go put it in the bathroom, not… just go. Shoo."

  I went back to scaring him with the brush, now that was fun.

  "All right. I made my point. Put the brush back on the dresser. I know where to find it quick, slut. I also, if memory serves me correctly? Demonstrated quite well, that pushover sweet mommy knows how to use it almost as well as Vaquera, huh? Yeah…"

  "Kneel."

  I smacked his face, a nice crack across the mouth.

  "No. Go get me the brush, I want to have a nice, little talk with you. Little slut…"

  The look was again, nothing short of priceless. Pure gold, studded with diamonds instead of rhinestones. I ran it over him, teasing him for a time. I pointed it at him as I spoke. Smacked his mouth again before I began.

  "Have we learned something, about watching what comes out of a dirty little slut's mouth? You're allowed to speak now."

  "Yes mommy."

  "Maybe… what's needed here, is a long trip down to the basement, about an hour with me, you, and this brush on your naked ass… before anything happens. You know, head that off at the pass. Do you fancy that idea? Hmm? I'm just trying to think outside the box here. Do you think that would get better results, than the absolute shit I recently had to put up with?"

  He stammered, and I smacked the taste right out of his mouth.

  "How could it not get better results. Now… show me that ass, little boy."

  I hauled off and gave it a wind up swat from hell pasted right on with extra love. I made him take one on the other cheek. He didn't cry, but… tearing up and puckering.

  "Maybe that? Is the solution here. I brush your ass really good, about an hour, I'm thinking. Give or take, depending. Right up front. Then? If you do pull anything like I just had to put up with? Two hours. But, if you're good? I'm ahead of the game. Do you like the sound of that pn?"

  "No mommy."

  "Well? That's the path, that we're barreling straight towards it. Now. Do you want to avoid that happening?"

  "Yes mommy."

  "Did I surprise you, when I belted and brushed your naked ass that good, the day after an epic brush ass beating? Hmm?"

  "Yes mommy."

  "Do you like those kinds of surprises? Because I can arrange them all the time if you like. Sweet mommy isn't going to be a pushover anymore, is she?"

  "No mommy."

  "Do you have any idea, what the next brush on your ass experience will even be like?"

  "Worse, mommy."

  "Oh. Much worse. I'm not kidding. I'm thinking, about an hour of basement brush time. Scared of that?"

  "Yes mommy."

  I got the tearing up just short of little sobs starting.

  "All right."

  I pointed the brush at him. My magic wand now. Mommy's little helper.

  "Beg. To be forgiven. This better be good. Go."

  I got epic begging. After enjoying it a while, I allowed kisses. With epic begging.

  "All right. You're forgiven. Sort of. The constant corrections? No. But… made up, and kissing and making up? Not yet. That, will wait until I see how this is going. Is that good enough for right now, till I see how you do?"

  "Yes mommy. Thank you…"

  More little kisses, groveling, full scale doggy licks. Christ, my clit is going to get the pink scraped off with his tongue, I can't hardly wait.

  "All right. Enough. You can do that more, when I'm clean. I want the workout stink off of me. You? Leave the chair in the bathroom right where it sits. I need it? I want it handy. Take the brush? Hang it on the hook in the shower. The two being in close proximity to your wet, naked ass? Should serve to remind you to watch your mouth. Get the shower ready, then come and get me."

  He ran and got the shower ready. I enjoyed, wonder of all wonders. Yet one more, for all intents and purposes and by any metric applied… a perfect shower care. I was moderately impressed. Bath pampering as well. I had him get a stack of towels and I put them in the bathtub, to see if his boo boo butt could ease down onto the wet towel stack, to let him sit finally. It just worked. I forbade him "normal time" for a while, and advised him to keep the mommy. Just in case.

  After about 20 minutes, I told him he could, on a probationary basis? Drop the mommy and enjoy normal time for bath closeness.

  "Now. I'm going to caution you. Do you take polite warnings now? Hmm?"

  "Yes…"

  I swiveled his head from behind him to see the chair.

  "Chair."

  I went a few degrees swiveled over, and the clear shower gss afforded a clear view of the much feared and vaunted big brush hanging on its hook, waiting for me to pick up my magic wand and cast a nasty spell on his ass.

  "Brush."

  "Now. Let that be your guide, for choosing what comes out of your mouth. Remember, little boy. Being allowed to drop the mommy, and talk more normally? Does not mean dropping the needed mommy respect."

  "Yes mommy."

  "You can drop the mommy for the duration of the bath, but look at the chair and the brush before you open that mouth, if you think you need to."

  "Okay. I promise. I'm…"

  "Hmm. You're what, dear?"

  "I almost forgot. I'm not allowed to say the S word."

  "Shit? We say shit all the time… and of all the talking to's you have ever gotten thus far, swearing has not really been one of them, has it now."

  "No. I… don't want to correct you, either."

  "Hmm. Such manners again. Mommy's little helper? Helps even when its not actually helping. The gift that keeps on giving. Go ahead. You have my… permission. Its on you what comes out next."

  "Sorry. I wanted to say, I'm sorry."

  I kissed his neck and shoulders, and rubbed my magic washrag clockwise on his tummy and chest. Always clockwise. Anyone can tell you? Athletes are some of the most superstitious people, even the ones that technically know better, like me. Still… can't hurt to do whatever irrelevant detail you were doing when you once got spectacur results. As long as you do everything else and don't neglect real important stuff, in favor of superstition. That said, the washrag was in, until proven otherwise.

  "I don't hate the word sorry. I hate when it's some automatic word, which is tolerable, but… when it carries some… automatic expectation of being totally absolved of all guilt, consequences, that's how too many people use it. Example. How you doing today? Most people will say fine, wonderful, great. Its a reflex. Now, that doesn't lead to… anything bad, but its an example of a learned vocal reflex, which drives me nuts."

  "Okay. So… I wait for, or if necessary ask for, being punished severely. Then, I can be sorry and its tolerated, or even okay. Gotcha."

  "Are you… watching the chair, and the brush… letting it provide you with the needed filter for the words you're making…"

  "Let me attack this from a different direction."

  "Oh. Now you're going to try to find a new way to get Vaquera called in for special basement duty. No, go ahead."

  "Can I get in trouble for asking for crification of the rules?"

  "Hmm. If you're trying to… navigate and skate thru something? It could potentially be a bigger viotion for vioting the spirit of the rules, not necessarily the rules themselves."

  "Okay. And what if I'm… unclear about something."

  "Well. What are you unclear about."

  "If I'm frustrated, how do I bring it up? Sarcasm, irony… or as you call them smart-ack… is one of my greatest allies."

  "Hmm. What are you frustrated about. A little boy asking mommy to help him, doesn't viote the spirit of any rules, at least I don't think."

  "I feel like I'm circling a fighting opponent, trying to go left, right, circle, looking for my way to dart in. Or… trying to run thru a swarm of wasps."

  "You don't want your ass to get stung any more than necessary."

  "Where I used to try to practically engineer the situation? My cup can now runneth over. Too much of the elixir can be a poison."

  "So… are you trying to say you're… actually afraid of me? Of offending me."

  "I say respect, you say fear."

  "Different paths to the same vilge, really."

  "Did you ever hear the term functional equivalency? Its a thing in… some of my sciences."

  "Um… you expined the concept before. If its not the exact part, but it fits and works… like that."

  "Yes, basically."

  "Okay. When I'm building something, trying to invent something. A cssic engineer's bck box. If I'm working at the board level, not every individual component from scratch. I need a temperature sensor. That's a cssic bck box. The voltage indicates temperature. Doesn't really matter what circuit is in the bck box, the board level view. As long as a thermistor in, and a voltage out… I'm good."

  "Okay. Daddy needs a carburetor, with 35mm throats, and a simple slide and two jets. Any brand will work. Gotcha. Where is this going."

  "So, I'm just gonna be brave, and basically ask to have my ass set on fire."

  "If you insist? Its your ass, honey. Chair… brush…"