Punished

by Tina Majors

  “Wow. Wow! You caved easily,” She laughed. “Well, that being the case I’m going to add another couple of caveats for you. You’ll call me Miss Annabelle and you’ll also curtsey for me. Nothing showy, but enough for anyone who happens to notice or know about these things to get what’s going on. And then as well as wearing panties to please me and exposing yourself in the queue, you’ll also present yourself to me in the disabled toilet – roomy enough for us both- when I’m on my break. You’ll drop your trousers, roll your top up above your nipples, and stand with your hands on the wall and your bottom sticking out toward me. Once I’ve inspected you, you will squat for me. I saw that you seemed fascinated with my magnificent derrière, so our goal will be to get yours up to scratch. Sissies needs lovely perky big bottoms to impress the big alpha men, don’t they? I said: don’t they?”

  “Yes, they need perky bottoms for the real men,” I said, transfixed, unthinking, and in a stupor.

  “Good. I see we’re on the same wavelength,” She said. “You’ll do your squats and if your form is off-point I’ll dish out some spanks with either my hand or a wooden spoon from the kitchen. Once we’re finished up with that I will honour you with the job of kissing my bottom, eating my booty like it’s groceries before focusing on my magnificent wet pussy and clit. You’ll bring me off before my break is over. If you fail, I’ll get Marcel the kitchen porter in and he’ll show you what a real man can do. And if I’m feeling especially vengeful, or simply if it takes Marcel’s fancy, he’ll stick his huge African dick in your mouth too and pump you full of his seed. Well, I know you’ll probably like that, but trust me this man-beast knows how to rock a woman, let alone a little sissy boi like you. Now, what do you have to say to all this?”

  “Yes, Miss Annabelle, it would be my honour to serve you and I’ll do anything you want,” I said, trying not to draw attention to us. “I’ll do my best to please you and I’ll accept my punishments without complaining.”

  The blood was returning to my dick and it began hardening against the wet stain on my chinos.

  “Good,” She said, a smile on her face. “Listen, once I’ve finished my shift next Saturday morning, we’re going to go shopping. I’m on first name terms with a couple of the sales assistants at Debenhams. We’re going to go and get you kitted out with some new work out gear for all the squatting practice you’re going to be doing. And then once we’re done with that we’re going to go to the beauty parlour on the top floor of the big department store and we’re going to make sure you’re suitably smooth in all the important places. Got it?”

  “Yes,” I said, nodding, before quickly correctly myself, “Sorry, Yes, Miss Annabel.”

  “Ha ha, good stuff,” Annabelle giggled. “See you next week my little-ickle slutty twerk queen in the making.”

  This unbelievable woman who I had met only minutes ago took a final look at me, shook her head disparagingly and walked back to her counter.

  Twerk queen in the making I thought?

  No one mentioned any twerking?

  A whole new sense of fear, humiliation, and excitement coursed through my body as the possibilities ran through my mind. I couldn’t believe what had just happened, it was totally dream like. But then I looked back down at the expanding wet patch on my trousers and knew that it was all too real – I was in a situation that I had always fantasised about, but was suddenly wondering whether or not I actually wanted to be reality.

  **

  I sat down, exhausted, and went to turn the television on.

  I must admit I loved nothing better than tuning into pretty much anything on my television set after a long day. I really didn’t care what it was I was watching, it just felt good to have the warm fuzz and background noise on, very zen if that makes sense.

  I had recently came into possession of a new set, a pretty impressive ultra HD set that came in at a not insubstantial 55 inches on the diagonal measurement with a sound system that would probably cause even George Lucas to be impressed, especially when taking into account the bargain that was the reduction from twelve hundred to four hundred pounds.

  I picked up the remote control and pressed the On button and went to the channel choice section and had a brief skim over the options before settling on a reality show where in members of the public found themselves kidnapped and held hostage for as long as it took their relatives back in the TV studio to answer a series of pretty basic questions.

  The thing with so called basic questions however is that they are only basic if you know the answers – which much to the show’s host’s amusement one particularly dim family did not.

  It was fairly entertaining, although I couldn’t help but wonder about the potential health and safety implications, not to mention the moral questions, that this show raised. Speaking from my own point of view, I can’t say I would take kindly to being bundled in a van and put through a realistic hostage situation.

  But then again, who’s to say I wouldn’t look back on the experience and laugh?

  Everyone is different and it could well be the case that many would enjoy the experience.

  It takes all sorts as they do indeed say.

  **

  I decided to take my mind off things by finally accepting the latest update on my iPhone. The phone had been pestering me to allow it to update to the new operating system for a couple of weeks but it was either the wrong time (I was too busy or there wasn’t access to a power socket) or I didn’t have enough memory left on the phone itself to be able to process the upgrade.

  A mistake I promised myself I’d never make again in my entire life would be to purchase a mobile phone with the least memory available; yes, it was cheaper, the cheapest option, but it simply wasn’t worth it for all the hassle and stress of having to constantly delete apps to upload new ones, or delete videos or upload them to a cloud storage in order to be able to take a new video.

  Some things in life are just too annoying – some you can’t change (cyclists undertaking, anyone?) but others you can change in order to prevent future occurrences of epic scale annoyance.

  Anyway, I plugged my phone in to the power socket and manually accepted the upgrade to the new operating system.

  The system update crept up to twenty percent before shooting up to seventy five percent, and then eighty percent, then eighty eight percent, and then ninety eight percent. It seemed to momentarily freeze on ninety eight percent, causing my blood pressure to rise (believe it or not, I could feel this happening, literally!), before then jumping to one hundred percent and a lovely message telling me that I was now up to date.

  What a fuss, but at least it had provided a distraction and a bit of mental respite from thoughts of what had happened so far and what was to come in the future – not that it was a bad thing, of course, but the intensity of it all was such that I knew it wouldn’t do any harm to have a bit of a break from it for a minute.

  Another annoying thing.

  What was the deal with internet providers and their seemingly archaic attempts to resolve problems?

  You’re an internet provider, the supposed all encompassing future form of communication that moves at faster than light speed and can download an ultra high quality super max HD movie instantaneously, yet… yet you can’t organise and arrange for an engineer to come out for, and I quote, seven to twelve days?

  Weird, and absolutely unacceptable, and something that gets right on my nerves.

  Well, here’s the thing – given my new situation with Miss Annabelle, I desperately needed my internet service to be working so that I could access YouTube for some twerking tutorials. Yet, every time I attempted to log on and pick up some much needed tips for my impending lesson, I found that the buffering time was so ridiculous it made it impossible to watch. It just wasn’t good enough given the amount of money I was shelling out on supposedly top of the range internet.

  What was frustrating was that having struggled with my previous provider, I had made the step to change service pr
ovider and go for the best package – and the thing was, it worked so well for a few months, allowing me to stream high quality programming at the drop of a hat, or a click of a button should I say?

  Anyway, after an hour and a half on the phone to the customer complaints team I managed to speak to someone who was able to demonstrate at least a modicum of empathy and common sense; the appointment to fix my service was arranged for the following day, Thursday, which meant that I would have at least a day and a half, plus Saturday first thing, to work on my twerking before my ordered appearance at the coffee shop to begin my experience with Miss Annabelle in earnest.

  **

  I heard the door knock and finished washing my hands before giving them a quick dry. I walked down the stairs and towards the front door; I was expecting a package and expected this would be the delivery man, ready to hand over the package I had ordered via the one day quick delivery service that I paid a premium for but felt represented excellent value for money.

  I had often struggled in the past when ordering items online and then waiting day after day for them to arrive – patience isn’t exactly my strong point, but I think it would take the patience of a true saint to deal with an order that you place on a Monday and doesn’t arrive until the following Tuesday, but anyway, I digress.

  I walked to the door and opened it, but no sign of anyone let alone a delivery man ready to give me my order.

  I looked down and saw a missed delivery receipt.

  Now this turned my mood something rotten.

  How could I have possibly missed the delivery?

  I heard the knock and got down to the door in prompt time.

  Well, there would be an angry email heading their way shortly, I could guarantee that.

  But in the meantime I needed to get to the delivery depot to pick up this package, well either that or call and arrange for it to be delivered in the next two to three working days at a time of my convenience.

  In the end I decided to have it delivered to the house the day after, I figured this would be the most convenient option and it would minimise any risks of the package’s contents being exposed.

  I had in actual fact placed my order based on Miss Annabelle’s instructions for me to arrive on Saturday morning with a different set of women’s panties. I’d made the decision to buy six pairs to cover me for the next couple of weeks, and to be honest I imagined I would have fun trying them on at home in the lead up to Saturday. I

  thought that this would be a good move as it might allow me to get used to them a bit more and not make a total fool of myself with any sticky explosions in front of Miss Annabelle again.

  Was this wishful thinking?

  Well, I think you can imagine.

  **

  I decided that I needed an energy boost. Quite often in these kinds of situations I would hit the snack cupboard with a vengeance: crisps, biscuits of all varieties, toffee popcorn – you name it and I would snack on it.

  But I’d recently been reading up on how these kinds of snacks in actual fact led to energy crashes a mere matter of minutes after consuming them.

  Talk about a massive let down.

  Sure, they tasted good in the moment of eating them but to know that they would be responsible for a drop in energy and potential headaches so soon after kind of provoked a sense of disappointment in me that I struggled to shake.

  Don’t get me wrong, I would always indulge here and there – they did taste great in the moment after all – but I had been making a concerted effort to pull back a bit and try to health up my snacking options.

  How did this new outlook manifest itself?

  Well, quite often I would make up a delicious green smoothie drink by combining fresh fruit with some high energy veggies, green leaves, and nuts.

  Now, don’t judge before you try – you can actually get some incredible flavours with these kinds of drinks with the added bonus being that you get a slow release energy that can last for hours and long term benefits of improving your skin and digestion.

  Not to come across as one of these new age health nut bores, but I’d already seen the difference after a few short weeks on my new regimen. Added to that, I’d seen some fat drop off, which is always a good thing.

  Don’t get me wrong, I’ve never been fat, but that is not to say I’ve always been entirely happy with my body and general appearance.

  Anyway, enough about that, as I was saying – I needed an energy boost and instead of a Twix I had a lovely homemade juice and, yes, I felt the much needed boost (not the chocolate bar!) shortly after.

  I walked across the road and towards the junction that would then take me into the town centre.

  The road was busy, it was a Saturday morning so what was I expecting, a deserted landscape of a future or past with no form of automotive travel?

  As I say, the road was busy and I had to make sure to cross quickly as there had been several accidents of varying severity on this road due in no small part to speeding drivers and less than observant pedestrians.

  Once I reached the junction I pressed the button on the traffic crossing and waited for the lights to change from red to green. I’d often waited at this stop for some time before realising that the system had auto re-set itself back, rendering my button push a waste of time.

  This could be incredibly frustrating and I often wondered why this occurred.

  I figured it was probably a technological defect that was beyond my somewhat rudimentary understanding of all things technical.

  Anyway, bearing this in mind, I kept an eye on the crossing display screen to make sure that my button press remained valid – well they may say that a watched kettle never boils but in this case it wasn’t true, sure as each day will end and another day will begin, the indicator changed from red to green and I was able to cross the road and begin walking down the long stretch of road that would take me into the city centre and main shopping area where the case, and far more pertinently, Miss Annabelle would be expecting me.

  As I walked, I wondered what was in store for me today – I had followed her instructions and was wearing a pair of new panties.

  My selection had been a bright pink thong with a white lace trim and see through front and I hoped she would find it acceptable to her taste.

  I wondered whether she would follow through on her promise that if I made her orgasm she would allow me to kiss and tongue her imperiously muscled and curved bottom?

  In the week following our meeting I had hardly been able to think of anything else, the thought of my tongue flicking her sweet asshole had driven me to distraction on more than one occasion and a swift visit to the work toilets was required in order to relive myself in double quick time.

  Of course, there was also the matter of her other plans to consider.

  Would she be suitably impressed with me to not spank me?

  Would she decide that the muscle bound kitchen chef Marcel would be required to attend – a terrifying but in truth titillating prospect that I was more than a bit curious about, and lastly, what would the trip to the lingerie department at the department store have in wait for me?

  Especially given her comment that she knew some of the staff members, I was nervous in a way I had never experienced before.

  Finally, along with the beauty parlour trip, what exactly would be my role in the twerking exercise that she had planned?

  All was about to be revealed as I strode down the tree lined road and towards the next junction that would take me into the area’s pedestrianised area.

  **

  I took a seat in the small municipal garden area, I wouldn’t quite stretch to call it a park exactly, that was situated just behind the enormous eyesore of a new multi storey car park that had been built four years ago if my memory serves me correctly. I took the packet sandwich I had purchased from Stromo’s and held it out in front of me; prawn cocktail with some kind of artisanal twist that involved rocket salad and an overly specific type of turmeric that I had n
ot had, ahem, the pleasure of sampling before.

  What was it with this obsession with artisanal products and sourcing all these overtly class identifying ingredients that had gradually become de-rigeur over the last three to five years?

  Well, it all tasted pretty much the same to me irrespective of what ingredients were in there, and actually really when you think about it all food is good for is sustenance, its design purpose is to sustain you and give you the requisite energy to power you through the activities of the day.

  I demolished the sandwich in less than three minutes and opened up the bottle of water – I’d selected it purely because it was part of a meal deal price reduction offer and cared little for the, and I quote, hint of delicate pomegranate and touch of Paraguayan lemon that was apparently ‘lightly fusing’ the experience.

  After a few gulps I must say I had come round to the drink, albeit still not convinced by the ridiculously over the top description on the bottle’s patina. I was happy to have eaten some food and hydrated as I knew that I would require the energy for the day ahead with Miss Annabelle.

  Who was I kidding?

  I was also very nervous in anticipation of what was ahead and using my need for sustenance and hydration as a kind of delaying tactic to momentarily place a delay on my entrance to the coffee shop; in truth, I’d had a hearty breakfast of two poached eggs on toast and a mug of strong tea that would in all truth sustain my right through until lunch time.

  Well, I couldn’t put it off any longer and got up from my seat and headed in the direction of the functional black wrought iron gates to the west of the garden, and more specifically, towards the lower end of the high street where the coffee shop was located.

  **

  Walking down the street I heard my name called out.