Portable Thinking Pond

Mistress doesn't have to spank me to keep me under her thumb. Like a good parent, she has many tools at her fingertips.

I just had lunch with Mistress Laura. She and I have lunch together about once a week on most weeks. She works at a local college and I work at a software company, so I usually meet her at the cafeteria on campus. There are usually lots of eighteen and nineteen year olds milling around.

I arrived late and was immediately flustered by her good natured ribbing.

"According to my watch, you are two minutes late," were the first words out of her mouth.

It was obvious that she was just teasing, but I actually blushed and stammered a lame "I'm sorry, Mistress."

"It's okay, my boy. You didn't speed did you?" She asked me.

"No. Of course not. I don't speed," I replied, still feeling off balance.

I am not allowed to speed. Before she laid out that rule, I used to speed around town incessantly, and would get about one speeding ticket per year. Now she tells me that if I ever get a speeding ticket again, Her penalty will be a lot worse than the money and time that the state will extract from me. I have no desire to find out.

It seems to me that she is increasingly comfortable with her authority over me. At lunch, Mistress Laura had me go and get the food while she sat at a table and read, and when I returned, we started to chat. In the middle of the conversation, she said:

"Next Sunday, you are coming with me to a work related volunteering dinner."

"Yes Ma'am" was all I said, but her tone of voice and her certainty went directly to my groin. It was slightly embarrassing.

Like I stated before, we were at a college cafeteria, and there are many eighteen and nineteen year olds running around. Also, at this time of year, they are often scantily clad. One particularly happy and bouncy girl with long blond hair, wearing shorts and a pink little top went cruising by our table. I couldn't help it. I ogled for a split second too long, only to hear:

"Look down, boy. Look down at the table."

I complied, blushing again, my ears red from being caught. I felt like the kid with his hands in the cookie jar, when Mom turns on the kitchen lights in the middle of the night and says "Aha! Caught you, you little brat!"

Then, Mistress went on:

"Put your forearms together in front of you and put your forehead on your arms, and slowly count to ten to yourself."

I put my hands in front of me and put my head on my forearms as she commanded, feeling silly and embarrassed.

"This is your portable thinking pond," She continued in her soothing voice, referring to a Super Nanny episode that we had watched some weeks back; the thinking pond was a place for the kid to sit and think (basically, a "time out").

"Little boys need to be guided, don't they?" She continued to murmur as I silently counted. "They need the help of a strong woman to at least act like gentlemen in public... Isn't that right, my little boy?"

I could finally look up, embarrassed and completely turned on.

"Yes, Mistress."

She can make me feel so small and so ready to please with a look, a touch, a slight change in her voice tone, or by simply looking at me "too long".