Cheers to You! - Part Two (Commission)

Thanks to Gold-Tier patron Samantha for sponsoring this one!

This new girl Alesha is such a snotty little bitch, isn't she?

I've tried to be nice to her, I swear. When she moved in to Lisa's old bunk, I offered to help. "Show you around campus?" "Nah." "Want to see the library?" "Ugh, for real? Get lost." "Wanna get supper in the dining hall?" "Puh-lease!!"

Yeah, I'm done with being nice to her. Certainly after this afternoon—after coming back from a nice study session to find her rummaging through my stuff.

I'm a little kinky, okay? It's not really a secret, to be honest. So what if I like Hello Kitty and schoolgirl outfits? So what if I like getting a little... younger... sometimes? Like, really young? And so what if I like it when someone ties me up and stuff? It's safe, it's consensual. I know what I'm doing—and to be honest, it's some of the most mind-blowing fun I've ever had.

But that doesn't mean I'm going to put up with a little bitch moving in, rummaging through my shit when I'm not around, taking pictures of it all like some psychopath, and then threatening to "expose" me or whatever online. I mean, like, what the hell?! I don't think I'm mean, really. But I'm not going to take it sitting down, either. Alesha's got to learn her lesson sometime, and I intend to make sure she learns it today.

I look the blonde bimbo over now as she sniffles and drools behind the gag I've strapped in her mouth. I love the way it feels in my own mouth, of course—so round and rubbery and filling—but right now I'm suddenly beginning to understand how much my partner must like to see me wearing it. In comparison to this sniveling little cheerleader I feel so... powerful. Strong. In control.

Wow. Is this what top space feels like?

"Listen," I tell her sternly, looking her squarely in the eye. "You're in big trouble, Alesha. I don't know who the hell you think you are, snooping through my stuff and taking pics of it all. But I think I've got a nice plan for those photos." I grin, inwardly elated at the deviousness of my plan. "They're on your phone, girl. So why don't I just unlock it with your finger there, open up your Instagram, and tell the entire world how much you love being a kinky bitch?"

The muffled, panicked protests she gives are sheer poetry.

"No? You don't want me to do that? Well, I think you're going to have to show me how badly you want me to hold off." I'm playing with her now, channeling my own heated fantasies of what I wished doms would do to me and putting them to work on Alesha. Sure, I tell my conscience, which is nagging me persistently that I don't have her consent for any of this. She deserves this. She has to be punished and taught a lesson, and I'm doing it so she'll never forget...

"You might have noticed that I've slipped a little surprise up your ass, missy," I tell her sweetly, giving her stupid spandex-clad ass a resounding smack. "It's something that is going to make you need to go potty very, very badly. You know, just as a little incentive to keep you going." I grin. "So why don't we see if you can do a few simple things for me without making a mess in those cute little shorts, hmm? Remember: if you don't do exactly as you're told, these pics are going online. So let's start with a cheer!"

You better believe I'm recording every second of the next half hour.

Desperate as she is to keep me from following through with my threat, she gives me a series of garbled, gag-distorted cheers. I'm gratified to see already how she's fighting not to clutch at her gut. Fleet enemas work quickly, as I know from intimate experience, and Alesha won't be able to hold on more than fifteen minutes—if that. Next I give her a dance routine full of forward and backward bends... you know, just to make sure she's feeling the full extent of those lovely cramps. And then? Well, frankly I run out of ideas. And so, I put her to work coloring me a picture while lying on her belly on the carpet.

Of course I have a few coloring books. It's what I love to do in little space, okay?

It's so gratifying when it finally happens: the squeak, the panicked breathing, and then the muffled farts and grunting and explosive sounds of spandex filling with the messy results of that fleet enema. Alesha's bent double on the floor, and I'm grinning as I rub in her humiliation. "Such a messy little girl, aren't you? Oh dearie, it's such a shame! You won't be able to wear those to cheer practice today anymore, will you? So smelly and messy, whew!"

It's a good thing she's still cuffed, or I bet she'd try to strangle me.

"Hey, hey! Don't be looking at me like that, Alesha. I didn't make you shit your pants, okay? You're a great big—okay, maybe not big—but you're certainly old enough enough to know better!" God, it's such a rush: pulling her back over my knee, grabbing my chemistry book for a paddle, and swatting her smelly backside as she sniffles and wails. "Dirty, dirty girl!" I scold, making sure to rub the mess all over her curvaceous backside. "Bad girl, making poopy in your pants! I guess you're just not big enough for big girl pants anymore, are you? Are you?!"

Of course I don't expect her to reply. She's still gagged, after all. It's more of a rhetorical flourish: something to humiliate her even further, and also to justify my next move...

It's hilarious, watching her recoil and yelp as I pull out a Princess diaper from my stash. God, you'd think it was going to bite her to see her panicked expression. "Now, now. Dirty little girls who poop in their panties have to wear something different," I chide sternly as I push her to the floor once more and pull down her shit-filled shorts. "And this is going to look so precious on you, Alesha! Look, it's pink and it ha-"

I'm not expecting the backward kick she delivers to my mouth, jarring my jaw and filling my mouth with the taste of blood.

"Oh, so you wanna play rough?" I'm seeing red now, and out come the big guns. It's not difficult to cuff the bitch to the foot of the bed, and that gives me enough time to slip off to the bathroom. There it is, the enema bucket. And on goes the water. Mmm, nice and warm... and full. very full. I want this second one to be unforgettable.

It's not the nicest job, administering a full-size water enema to the struggling, shit-covered ass of my bitch of a roommate. But the whimpers and groans as the water level slowly drains are music to my ears, as are Alesha's frightened backward glances from her tear-streaked eyes. And then, at long last, the tube comes out, the Princess diaper goes on, and she rolls onto her back, whimpering pitifully as I tape the shameful garment around her waist.

"Uh, oh!" I remark, helping her up and snapping just one last picture for the record. "Hey, it looks like you're going to be late to cheer practice! I guess we'd better get you out the door, hmm?" And out comes the gag, and off come the cuffs. Part of me is fully expecting a violent attack, but all she gives is a quiet sob. 

Even as a pang of remorse threatens, I shake it away and hand the poo-filled shorts to my tearful—and visibly diapered—ass of a roommate. "You know, I've decided to go easy on you this time, Alesha. No pictures online, I promise." I smile consolingly and give her padded butt a swat. "But you'd better head on out there, Alesha. Nope—no pants, sweetie! After all, you've already made the ones you have pretty stinky, haven't you?" I admit it—my grin is pretty evil at this point. "So really, if I were you, I'd hang onto that diaper, okay? No telling when you might have to-"

"You- bitch-" she murmurs furiously, taking the shorts from my hand and heading for the door. "I'm- I'm gonna-"

How ironic that right then, as she steps out the door and into full sight of the guys playing spikeball across the way, that she loses control once again.

"Cheers to you, baby!" I chortle, watching as the diaper begins to visibly expand and discolor between her quivering legs. "You're gonna knock 'em dead, I just know it. Maybe with the smell more than anything!"

Yeah, I guess maybe I went a bit too far with what I did. But riddle me this: do you think there would have been any other way to teach that little brat not to mess with my shit?