It's Not Fair

It's Not Fair - Peter's Letter

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This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It contains explicit depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.

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This story is set in the Puericil Universe.

This is one of the letters to the "It’s Not Fair!" column, in "Boy Stuff" magazine. In them, boys complain about how little privacy they are allowed, and about the double standard that makes it OK for people to see them naked but protects girls’ modesty. Because of its length and more edgy nature, it is published as a standalone.

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Letter published in the It’s Not Fair section of the magazine called Boy Stuff:
(this letter has been written by Mike Ploog The response is by Cassie. The letter is published as originally sent. Before being published in the all ages magazine, some of the more sexual descriptions were slightly toned down. The request not to be called Petey was however published as is)

(You can read Peter's previous letter in INF 14 and INF 34)

Peter (age 18)

Dear It’s not Fair,

It’s me, Peter, again. First of all, many thanks for answering my letter and giving me valuable advice, but there’s one modest little request I have and DON’T want to be published!!!

PLEASE don’t call me “Petey”! That’s how my mom always calls me and it makes me feel like a little kid each time. You know, I’m already 18 years old, so I’d really prefer being addressed as “Peter”. Could you please do that for me? It’s also because I’ve heard that there are a lot of girls who read the Boy Stuff-magazine too and it embarrasses me a bit if they read this childish nickname.

I remember you wrote that I am too immature to have a girlfriend yet. Even though, my secret hope is that maybe some girl may like me and send a love letter to your magazine. But Psst! ;-)

In your response-letter you told me to improve my behavior by showing more respect to Madame and the girls and listen to what they tell me. You also told me to be more thankful and not to complain that much about my tasks and expected me to be obedient. Believe me, I really do my best to follow your valuable instructions because I don’t want be treated like a toddler anymore! I’m now constantly trying to be a well-behaved and modest boy. But actually, in some particular cases it’s not that easy for me to do as I still have to stand so many unbearable situations!

Let me tell you what happened on the last weekend when Madame went for the trip to her friend. She already left on Friday afternoon and announced that she’d come back on late Sunday.

First of all, you should know that Miss Valery was agreed to go on a three-week holiday camp for youths. The camp started on Saturday, so I had to spend most of the weekend with Miss Monica only (and her boyfriend Nick, of course!).

The first evening with me and the girls was quite uneventful. As part of my daily routine I had to take my bedtime bath with young Miss Valery monitoring me (b.t.w.: she does not “wash my peenie” as you falsely accepted, but she always watches and instructs me and when I step out of the tube she’s doing a strict and thoroughly cleaning-check of each part of my body which is embarrassing enough!).

Considering your advice, I was ambitious to behave the best I could and to leave a good impression to the girls. I really did not want to give them ANY reason to make them angry or even to punish me!

So for the following day I had set my alarm clock extra early to clean and polish the girl’s shoes in the morning which was meant as a kind of “surprise present”.

My, that was really a tough job! For nearly two hours I worked on two dozen pairs of several sneakers, pumps, high-heels and leather boots. Afterwards, I quickly started to set the kitchen-table and prepared an extensive breakfast for the young ladies.

When the girls came up (it was already half past nine then) I greeted them with an extra deep bow. Both were still quite sleepy but when they recognized the lovely prepared breakfast table and smelled the warm coffee plus the backed buns their eyes literally beamed! I can tell you, they were REALLY satisfied with what they saw. After we had enjoyed a lavish morning meal and I was administered my first Puericil pill of the day, I proudly announced that “there is a special surprise for you waiting in the door hall”.

When I presented them their freshly cleaned footwear, the girl’s reaction was a bit less enthusiastic than I hoped for. Of course, they were pleased but after Miss Monica had examined my efforts with critical eyes she shook her head yes and said “Good job, boy. But I if you hadn’t done it voluntarily I would have ordered you to clean them anyway as it was part of your weekend tasks.” She then smiled and added: “Well, at least you now have more capacities left for other chores, starting with cleaning up the kitchen.”

I can’t tell you how frustrated I was! All my efforts were obviously in vain!

Fortunately, Miss Valery was a bit more thankful. I was really kind of proud when she praised me and said it was “a nice idea to have my footwear cleaned for the summer camp.” She even helped me out with washing the dishes (which was normally not her duty). As I stood next to her in the kitchen we actually had a nice little chat. She told me about her future plans and that she wanted to study and become a Doctor. I was really astonished how confident and mature this young girl already is. At this particular moment I thought she was probably the family member I best get along with (apart from the humiliating bathing ceremony of course!). I was even a bit sad that she was going away for her holiday camp and would leave me alone with her moody sister. However, I’m sorry to say that my feelings of affection were quite short-lived!

Let me tell you why: Half an hour later Miss Valery was finally ready for her departure to the camp. Needless to say that I was expected to drag her luggage down the stairs and carry it to the driveway where she would be picked up by a friend of her whose mother would drive the girls to the camp. And man, did she have an awful amount of luggage to travel with! I literally felt like a Sherpa as I had to struggle with a huge suitcase and three fully packed bags. You wouldn’t believe how heavy just her cosmetics bag was! How can it be that such a young girl already owns such a load of “women’s essentials”? And to my dismay she even urged me to “Hush! Hush! Don’t be so sluggish, boy! We’re late!”

Eventually, me and the siblings were waiting in the driveway until a roaring car arrived – it was actually a Porsche Cayenne! – and a young girl with red colored hair jumped out to happily embrace Miss Valery. Her name is Ginger (she’s one year older than Valery) and she is Madame’s younger daughter’s best girl buddy. As Ginger and her family live in another town a good hundred miles away from us, both girls haven’t seen each other for a longer time so the whole welcome-scenario was quite enthusiastic. Lots of “missed you!”, “How are you!”, “You look great!” and “blah blah!”

I expected her mother to get out of the car too, but she kept sitting on the driver’s seat all the time, busily talking to someone on her phone.

As it turned out, this eleven year old rich kid, Ginger, got dressed like a real bitch! She was wearing a tight tank top showing off her bust which was quite big. I also remember that the top was labeled “Size Matters” written in big letters. How weird is that? Underneath, she had on a skimpy pair of snow white hotpants imprinted with a strange black bunny-head wearing a bow-tie. On the other hand she didn’t spare her thick red lickstip. She also had her belly-button, her nose and even her lip (!) pierced. I was really disconcerted by her offensive style and I didn’t like that girl at first view!

But the biggest shock (for me!) was yet to come. Let me tell you what happened: After Ginger had cheerfully greeted Miss Monica (same style…”Howdy Nica!”… “Heard about your hot new boy friend”… typical girl’s chit-chat) the lively young girl approached me, beaming “…and he must be this funny Puericil boy Val told me so much about!”

Well, as I always try to show my best manners I instinctively bowed before the young Miss and reached out my hand to her. But what did this sassy chick do? Instead of shaking my offered hand she simply grabbed straight between my legs and probed my genitals! Can you believe that?!

On that day, I was only wearing light tennis shorts so I felt every bit of her ungentle touch through the thin material, even the big rings on her fingers.

I still remember how I groaned from the sudden shock and the searing pain her searching hand caused to my testies (they’re always extremely tender after I’d taken a Puericil pill!). But before I was able to comprehend what just had happened and react, the shameless girl quickly withdrew her hand. She then looked at Miss Valery and formed a wicked smile. “You were right, Val. He’s fucking tiny! I almost felt nothing.”

And as she faced me again, the little bitch had the nerve to ask me “Do you even HAVE a dick, bro? Or are you actually a girl, huh?”

Being highly abased, I was nothing but speechless, so Miss Valery took the initiative.

“Come on, don’t be so rude to him, Gingy. Look how he’s blushing now. I assure you: He really IS a boy!” She then made this tiny dick sign with her fingers and added. “A VERY small one, of course!”

Needless to add, that they all started to laugh about her humiliating comment. That was SO MEAN! But what should I have said? At that moment, I felt so defenseless and let it all happen.

Eventually, Ginger’s mom interrupted the gathering, calling “Hurry up, girls! We’re late!” so I quickly heaved Miss Valery’s luggage into the trunk and without saying a word I went back into the house, holding back my tears of shame and anger. The last thing I remember was Ginger blowing a fake kiss at me shouting: “Don’t be so touchy, sweetie. When we’re back, Auntie Val’s gonna show me your little birdie, okay? Maybe it will grow a bit till then!”

Thinking back about this encounter with mean Ginger still makes me feel upset. Christ, I never ever want to meet this nasty little slut again who made such a fool out of me. I wish I’d had the guts to slap her in the face to teach her some respect! I mean, didn’t she just deserve it for hassling me like that?

Back in the house, I really had a hard time to concentrate on my studies I was being burdened by Madame. You know…History, Math, French, Biology and all this stuff.

It was arranged that Miss Monica would check the results after my learning time so she sat down next to me and reviewed my progresses. Christ, this was so embarrassing! The 15 year old asked me dozens of questions on my current tutorials and I have to admit that she was so much smarter than me. May it be a complicated Math calculation I couldn’t handle…she corrected me and knew the solution, may it be a long translation into French I had to struggle with …she corrected me and spoke it right out in perfect French…may it be questions about History… she knew each fact I forgot. I really felt like a dumb little school boy and was amazed at her unbelievable knowledge. But the worst thing was: Miss Monica seemed to be awfully bored all the time and ridiculed me for my evident shortcomings. After about an hour she decided that “we’d better end this now, little stupid.”

Of course, I really don’t like it when Miss Monica calls me a stupid, but I swallowed my anger, bowed my head in shame and thinking about your advice not to complain about everything I nodded “Yes. I’m sorry, Miss Monica.”

At least, my supervisor was so kind to allow me a little spare-time then. But that didn’t last for long! Just a few minutes later, the doorbell rang and she stormed to the entrance door. It was Nick! Guess you remember that her boyfriend was allowed to stay overnight during the weekend to support

Miss Monica monitoring me. They chatted for a while in the doorframe, obviously discussing something. Well, I quickly learned what it was about.

“Peter! Come over here! We have a little job for you to do!” In an instant I ran to the door to meet the couple who was standing in the driveway next to Nick’s car. It turned out to be his father’s big pickup truck which he was allowed drive for the weekend. Anyway, Miss Monica came straightforward to the point and explained “To make amends for hurting little Billy you are now going to wash and clean Nick’s car.” I looked at the big truck which was covered with grime and stains all over and turned my head to Nick. He can’t be serious, I thought to myself! Hadn’t

I been punished enough for my outburst at the beach?!

But Nick just smiled and shrugged his shoulders “Don’t look at me, dude. It was Monica’s idea. Actually, a quite good one, as my dad’s car really needs a good washing. So you’d better do what my girl says, little troublemaker.” That was so unfair!

But anyway, fate must be obeyed and so Miss Monica didn’t wait to give me some detailed instructions. “First you gonna use the hose to wash down all the dirt from the car and the tires. Then you take a big sponge and polish it until it shines like a diamond. Then you gotta clean the interior with the Hoover and you also clean the inner windows. You can find the needed items in the garage. As you know, there’s a water supply, too. While you are busy with the car, we will spend some time at the pool. And you, Peter, are NOT gonna disturb us for a second! Your place is here in the driveway. I don’t want you in the house until we’re back to check the car. Got that?!”

“And, by the way: Before you get started, I want you to remove your shirt and your socks. You will work in your shorts only, cos this is quite a dirty job and it gonna gets hot as hell within the next hours.”

I really don’t want to bore you with each detail of my cleaning job. All I can say is that it took me an awful amount of time and the fact that I still I haven’t adapted to the daily hot climate here in the South didn’t make it any better. After about two hours I eventually found that the car was clean enough. But at that time I was SO thirsty and yearned for a cold soda. I guess you would say: Why didn’t you drink from the water hose source? No way! You can’t imagine how awful it tastes!

So here’s when I obviously committed a fateful mistake. Feeling the urge to quench my thirst with a cold drink from the refrigerator I secretly stepped into the house. Doing this, my heart was beating like crazy and I prayed to god that Miss Monica and Nick wouldn’t notice my prohibited disappearance. You must know that I have to pass the big living room to get into the kitchen. That was a real challenge because behind its big windows you can see the adjoining terrace and the pool. Though the outer windows are barely see-through in the late afternoon, I ducked down on all fours and slowly crawled over the big carpet – just as a precaution. That’s when I became a bit curious and took a little peek through that very window. And what I saw out there quickly got my attention: Dressed in bathing clothes, Miss Monica and Nick were standing in the pool caressing and kissing each other. For a little while, I secretly observed them… until my thirst for a drink gained the upper hand.

I quickly opened the refrigerator, took out one of the small bottles of ice-cold soda and emptied it in one long and greedy gulp. Still being thirsty, I fetched a second soda… then a third… and a fourth one. When I finally crawled back I urged myself not to look through the window again. But to no avail. I just HAD to do it!

You wouldn’t believe what I saw then! Now, Nick was sitting on the opposite pool edge with his lower legs dangling in the water. And Jesus, Miss Monica was squatting between his wide opened thighs! At first, I couldn’t precisely make out what was going on there but Miss Monica was eagerly moving her head up and down on Nick’s midsection. OMG, what were they doing there? Then it struck me! She must have had his penis in her mouth!!! O my god! They did “adult stuff”, didn’t they? [Note from the editor: this description was slightly toned down for publiscation in the magazine]

In no time, my own peenie started to rise as I observed them. Jesus, Miss Monica was also playing her hands between Nick’s legs. I simply couldn’t keep my curious eyes from this hot scene and guided my hand into my waistband to play with my stiffie. I remember I was feeling a mixture of arousal and envy imagining how it might feel if beautiful Miss Monica would do this to ME! If she would caress ME down there…

Suddenly, Nick turned his head up at my direction! It was only for a quick moment, but long enough to scare me to death. Did he notice me?! No, that must have been impossible. I simply was too far away and the windows… you know, they reflect the light. But better being careful, I slowly hid behind the big sofa and with weak knees I quickly hurried back outside.

Shortly after, I was sitting and waiting in the pickup admiring the car’s highly modern center console with its countless control knobs. You have to know that I SO MUCH want to drive such a cool car by my own. I guess you’ve heard about this stupid law prohibiting boys to own a driving license as long as they are on Puericil – no matter how old they actually are. Why is life so unfair?! Madame doesn’t even allow me to sit on the passenger seat when we’re making a trip with her sedan. No, my place is always the backseat behind Miss Monica or even young Miss Valery!

So I proudly enthroned in the driver’s seat gripping the wheel daydreaming about being an adult… until the “real” adults finally returned.

As Miss Monica had changed clothes now, wearing denim shorts and a long-sleeved shirt, big strong Nick was still clad in his wet bathing trunks only. Again, I couldn’t help but glimpse at his revealing tight white Speedos envying his massive package. Christ, compared to me he’s so HUGE down there …though he’s only 16, two years younger than me, you remember? That’s not fair!

However, the REAL trouble began when Miss Monica told me to “get out of the car” and started to check the vehicle thoroughly. Of course, the moody girl was critical as ever. It didn’t take long until she spotted some trivial discolorations on the interior floor and blamed me. “You’ve been a bit sloppy here, boy.” She then looked at her boyfriend, questioning: “If you ask me, we cannot let him get away with this. What do you think?” I was really relieved when Nick took my part as he surrounded his pickup. “Come on, honey. Don’t be so nitpicky. I think he did his very best….to me the car looks perfectly clean now. I’m sure my dad won’t even recognize it when I’m back.” Saying this, he even smiled and blinked at me! I can’t tell you how proud he made me for that!

At this point, I had already forgotten my daring little observation time and was hoping for a more stress-free time to come… until Miss Monica once again faced me with her sinister brown eyes. “Ok, boy. You may have done your work here properly but there’s something else I’d like to talk to you in earnest.” Christ, my heart already started to beat like crazy in dark foreboding. And then she casually-like asked me: “Did you secretly watch us, Peter? Nick told me he possibly saw someone moving behind the window when we were in the pool.”

I just stammered. “No! I swear I’ve been here all the time, Miss Monica. Believe me!”

Much to my relief, Nick defended me once again “You know, I really wasn’t sure, honey. Maybe it was a delusion. Just forget about it.”

But Miss Monica… she was nothing but leery of me.

“Hmm… I donno. I’d better make sure he didn’t lie and check the rooms. And if I find ANY traces that betray you, Peter, then trust me, you REALLY gonna git it from me!”

She then looked at Nick and told him to “Please take him to the pool, honey. He badly needs to take a shower. He’s all sweaty and he stinks awfully! I’m back in a minute.”

As Nick guided me to the hateful outdoor shower I just hung my head listening to his warning.

“Let’s hope you told her the truth cos if not you’ll be in BIG TROUBLE, dude!”

Suddenly, my mind went crazy. O my god! The empty soda bottles! Did I leave them on the kitchen table? I prayed to god that I’d had thrown them away, but…I wasn’t sure!

Just a few moments later, Nick ordered me to strip out of my tennis shorts and to “hop under the shower, cowboy!” I guess you may think that I somehow must have gotten used to be naked and exposed to my supervisors. But I’m NOT. I still don’t like it at all! However, my modesty soon became secondary as suddenly an agitated Miss Monica stormed through the terrace door with the big wooden spoon in her hand and harangued: “You bloody little liar! I knew it! You’ve been in the house! Saw the mess you made in the kitchen! And that means you’ve been watching us. Peeping on us!... Peeping on us and… playing with your tiny little dick! That’s what you did, huh?! O my god, that’s so DISGUSTING!” I save telling you the rest of her faithful tirade (it’s still ringing in my ears!) as you already may surmise the upshot: A deserved punishment!

It took a while until Miss Monica had halfway calmed down. She then sat down on the broad bench behind the pool and placed a towel over her thighs – the thighs on which I’d soon be laying across…

Of course, she wanted me to be “showered and clean” for my spanking-time, so once again I had to wash myself thoroughly in the open with my head blushing deep-red in shame while Nick was standing next to me regarding my efforts.

O, I can’t describe you how humiliating and degrading it each time is to clean my little peenie and hiney in front of others, be it Madame, Miss Monica, her friends, Miss Valery or a teen boy like Nick who’s younger than me but much more mature and treats me like a toddler. Because that’s what he did when he fetched a big towel... and much to my dismay I felt his hands rubbing me dry all over, even my shriveled privates and the crack between my butt cheeks! And Jesus, I still remember the painful remarks he made while he was working my midsection with the towel. “Holy shit, boy! I just can’t believe you’re really 18. Even Billy is more of a man than you down here!” OMG, he was comparing my peenie to his five year old baby brother’s!

He then took my wrist in a tight grip and slowly guided me towards awaiting Miss Monica. I felt like a condemned prisoner walking on death row and was already whimpering with fear as Nick said: “I’m sorry, little man. But she really has to teach you some manners. Why did you peep on us? She really doesn’t like that. No girl likes that. Now just try to take your punishment as a brave big boy. You can do it!”

The spanking was awful! With only little help needed from strong Nick I was maneuvered across Miss Monica’s towel-covered thighs and just a few seconds later she smashed the wooden spoon on my unprotected bare hiney. “Whack!” It was the first time I received a punishment from Madame’s daughter and man, did she replace her mother and spanked me HARD! “Whack!” “Whack!” “Whack!” She was mad. She was furious. And she was untiring! Of course, I did NOT take it “as a brave big boy”.

I actually screamed, howled and wailed like a toddler… and after her 50th terrible blow I was nothing but a sobbing and crying mess.

When finally being relieved from Miss Monica’s lap, I instantly started to rub my abused hiney, jumping up and down like crazy with my peenie madly wiggling in front of my supervisors. That was SO HUMILIATING!

To make matters worse, Miss Monica even scolded me for my “childish spanky-dance”. Saying this, she - not so gently - tapped my jiggling peenie with the big spoon making me double over and yell in pain. But my hysterical reaction only made her yet angrier: “For God’s sake, that was only a playful nudge! Now stop that crying, march into the kitchen and prepare the lasagna dinner for me and my man. Hush! Hush!”

I quickly turned around to make a dash for the house … but not without getting one last “encouraging” slap to my hiney!

Now I ask you: Did I really deserve such an inhumane punishment? I know my misbehavior was fatal and unforgivable, I understand that …but heaven, my hiney was so badly BRUISED after her cruel spanking. And it still is! O, I can’t describe the burning pain I had to suffer. It was worse than ever and it still ouchies while I’m sitting here writing to you! And why did she have to hit my peenie too? That was mean! It stung like hell!

(I’m sorry for the big tear stains on the letter. But I couldn’t help but cry as all the memories of my horrible punishment flashed back. I simply had to compose myself before continuing…damn, I so much wish Madame allowed me to use a computer! Miss Monica and Miss Valery even have their own notebooks and Ipads. That’s not fair!)

I guess you have no idea, how hard it was for me to do the cooking-job after this painful incident.

It took me more than an hour to prepare more or less decent lasagna and a mixed salad as being ordered.

Once everything was finally ready and the table set, I deeply bowed courtesy before Miss Monica and Nick and served them their evening dinner. I somehow hoped they’d allow me some rest now, but no way! Instead, strict Miss Monica, who was still quite angry, demanded me to stand straight up, keep quiet and act like a vigilant waiter – a vigilant but naked waiter of course! She even took the opportunity to check my French vocabularies as she spoke “Garḉon, nous choisissons une bouteille de vin rouge, une Bordeaux, s’il vous plaît.” (frankly transferred as “We’ll have a bottle of red wine, please”)

My “waiter job” continued for an excruciating long time until they were finally ready with their dinner and made theirselves comfortable on the big couch in the living room.

Naturally, it was my job to tidy up the table and to do the dishes (could have been much effortless if Madame’s goddamn dish washer wouldn’t be defect all the time!) At least, Miss Monica allowed me to put on an old kitchen apron so I wasn’t like naked as a jailbird anymore.

It was already around 7:30 pm when I walked into the living room (still dressed in that ridiculous apron!) where Miss Monica and Nick were cuddling on the couch and watching an episode of “How met you mother” - which is by the way one of my favorite TV-shows! When I announced that I was ready with my kitchen work, Miss Monica just gave me a bored look and said “That’s fine because it’s sleeping-time for naughty little boys now”. I was a bit frustrated for being sent to bed that early, so I protested. “But that’s not fair! On Saturdays, Madame always allows me to stay up an hour longer and watch TV in the guest room.”

Of course, I shouldn’t have said that as Miss Monica instantly raised her voice and fumed: “No way! Did you forget who’s in charge of you today? It’s me! And as you’ve been such a naughty boy, I’m telling you to go to bed RIGHT NOW. Is that clear?!” Not daring another confrontation, I quickly bowed my head in shame and mumbled “Yes, Miss Monica. I’m sorry.”

“And take off that silly apron before you march down to your room!”

I don’t know if I already told you that my bedroom is just a small, dark and sparsely equipped chamber in the basement with a tiny rusty window high on the wall. That’s not fair! Why doesn’t Madame allow me to use the big and comfortable guest’s bedroom upstairs?

Instead, I always have to sleep here on this dirty old mattress placed on the tiled and cold floor.

Oh, there’d been so many times I’ve cried myself to sleep reviewing the past day badly suffering from homesick. And adding to my lonely sadness, I can always hear the laughing neighborhood kids who are still playing outside on the nearby street when I'm already tucked up in my sheets. That is so frustrating!

However, I was already lying in my uncomfortable “bed” wrapped in my thin blanket, when suddenly Miss Monica opened the door, holding a urine bottle (!) in her hand. “You’ll gonna use this if you need to pee, cause I’m gonna lock up your door till tomorrow. No complaining, no arguing! Got that?” And without waiting for an answer, she casually threw the bottle on my mattress, slammed the door shut and locked it from outside. Christ, why did she do that? Even Madame never locks me up for the night as I’m always the first who gets up to fulfill his early-morning chores.

Fortunately, I didn’t need the awful plastic bottle but I really had a hard time to fall asleep as my hiney was aching so much. I was also highly concerned about how Madame would react if she’ll be informed about me peeping on her daughter. You know, I once witnessed her talking about a lately arrested voyeur in the neighborhood and telling her daughters how SHE would “handle such a perv” – and that scared me to death!!!

Later that night I awoke from a bad dream. As I was rolling around the mattress unable to fall asleep again, I suddenly heard far away noises emitted from upstairs which sounded like woman’s moans.

I first thought it was Miss Monica but why would she make such strange noises in the middle of the night? Did she get hurt by something? No, it must have been the TV! I assumed that she and Nick were watching a cruel horror movie in which a woman was being tortured. How horrible! After a while, the TV-noises weren’t noticeable anymore and I finally dozed off.

Late next morning, at about half past ten, Miss Monica came downstairs to unlock my door and wake me up (I was still asleep after this uneasy night). Much to my surprise, she was now like totally changed and in high spirits. Christ, I simply don’t become smart with this moody girl! She was actually greeting me warmly in a sweet rasping voice “Good morning, sleepy head. Time to wake up” and even felt sorry for me. “I hope your poor tushie feels a bit better now.” And when I imploringly begged Miss Monica not to tell her mother about yesterday’s incident, she showed sympathy, squatted down in front of me and stroked my hair like a caring parent. “Oh dear, poor little Peter. You really are afraid of her, ain’t you? Afraid of what she might do to you, if she…”

But before finishing her sentence, she noticed my watering eyes and hugged me! Really, the same girl that had spanked me so hard and relentless and was so strict with me… she now soothingly whispered into my ear “It’s okay…don’t cry, little pumpkin. Don’t cry. Let’s see what we can do, hm? Maybe I keep your misbehavior as a secret since you already received your deserved punishment. But you have to promise me never to be such a naughty little boy again, will you? ”.

I instantly shook my head yes and gave her the promise by sobbing: “I’m so sorry! I SWEAR I will never be a naughty boy again, Miss Monica. Never ever!”

And after I got dressed and went into the kitchen for my breakfast, she had already set up the table for me, can you believe that?

The Mouse Trap

But if you now may think that my weekend had finally turned into a happy-ending you are absolutely wrong! Let me tell about a very sad incident that also took place on Sunday. After breakfast-time, Miss Monica friendly but firmly issued my instructions for the day, telling me to start with cleaning the bathroom upstairs. Before doing this, I quickly checked the adjoining guest’s bedroom where Nick was supposed to sleep. Maybe Miss Monica would be happy and proud of me, if I’d tidy it up without request! But much to my surprise, the bed sheets looked totally unused and it seemed that the room hadn’t been inhabited at all.

I concluded that Nick must have slept somewhere else, probably on the big couch in the living room.

While I was cleaning the bathroom with a mop, I suddenly discovered three odd looking items swimming in the toilet. I first didn’t give much attention to it and just pushed the flush. But the mysterious items didn’t go down and kept circling on the water surface. That’s when I became curious and took a closer look. They looked like little rubber hoses. Using some toilet paper I fished one of these disgusting looking slimy hoses out of the basin and studied it. It was obviously filled with water but also contained some other, gooier stuff. I really had no idea what these bizarre rubber things were good for and who might have thrown them in the toilet. Was it Miss Monica? Giving no further thoughts about that, I duly concentrated on my cleaning job and discarded the mysterious items into the garbage can.

Later that day, shortly after lunch, I reported my bathroom findings to Miss Monica and politely asked her what it was. At first, she looked puzzled and knit her brows. “Three little rubber hoses?

I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But then she saw daylight and smiled. “Oh, ok…..now I know. I guess you mean….you mean the little mouse traps!”

“Mouse traps?” I was really startled now.

“Yes, those hoses you found were used mouse traps, you little dummy! I needed them because there’s been some plague of mice in my room”, she explained, “for sure you knew nothing about it as my room is highly restricted area for you.”

I still recall her following remarks word by word because they were SO cruel:

“These traps are highly efficient! I tell you how they work: The tip of the hose is filled with shred lard. And when a curious and hungry little mouse is sniffing the bait it crawls straight through the opening, trying to feast on it. Soon, the little beast is entrapped by the slimy rubber and then SLOOOWLY suffocates!”

I remember I was looking at Miss Monica my eyes wide as saucers as I kept listening. “You know, last night when I was with Nick I captured three VERY BIG and VERY POTENT mice. They were all rising up against the tight rubber hose and fought a LOOONG brave battle until they slowly shriveled. I tell you, that was BIG FUN! After the critters died, I pulled them out of the traps and just threw them out of the window.” I was nothing but shocked! How can Miss Monica be so cruel? After she’d finished her detailed description of the gruesome mouse traps I felt tears running down my cheeks. Seeing this, Monica just smiled and left the room. And once she had vanished into her room, her loud laughter echoed down the stairs and could even be heard in the kitchen.

Please tell me: Why did she do that?? She really must be some kind of a sadist, isn’t she? You have to know that I love mice so much. They are my favorite animals! I even kept them as pets when I was a child. Just imaging how the poor little things were suffering and suffocating to death makes me cry again!

How can Miss Monica be so hard-hearted?!

It's not fair!

The magazine published response:

Dear Peter,

Thanks for writing again. It’s cute that you want to seem grown up, so of course we’ll honor your request to call you Peter instead of Petey. You really do not need to feel self-conscious about it, though. Petey is a term of endearment. That means that it’s said affectionately. Besides, you do not need to worry about it being childish. You are still a child, after all, and that’s why you still need to be babysat and get bathed and all that. This column is not really meant to look for girlfriends, and most of our readers are boys anyway, but that’s OK because as you say, you are still rather immature to worry about that. Nice try, though!

We are glad that you are trying to follow our advice and be obedient and behave, even if you are not always quite successful. But it’s really the way to go. Misbehaving only gets you spanked, as you know very well. The more mature and responsible you act, the less you will be treated like a toddler. Be patient, though. It’s not a matter of a few months. It takes years. For example, Miss Valery does not wash your peenie, but trusts you to do so. She still supervises you and inspects you, and that must be really embarrassing for you, coming as it is from a much younger girl, but it’s still better than her doing it herself, isn’t it?

Perhaps you are trying too hard sometimes. You need to look at the girls’ reactions when you do something, and see what works and what doesn’t. When you do something that pleases them, keep doing it, and when it doesn’t, quit. It seems that you find it easier to please Miss Valery, so try to spend more time with her and doing things for her. She is indeed a very confident and smart young lady.

I’m very concerned, however, that you would refer to her friend Ginger as a “bitch” and a “slut”, and talk about attacking her. This is no way to talk about a girl, no matter whether she has piercings or not. It goes to show that you do need a lot of discipline, so it’s no wonder that they keep you on a tight leash, so to speak. That means that they keep you under strict control, not that they actually keep you leashed. That’s a good thing, because it’s the way to keep you out of trouble. You have to realize that she was only teasing you a bit, so there is no need for you to get so upset.

I cannot support Miss Monica calling you “stupid”, though. She is of course infinitely more mature than you, and she is more intelligent, but to teach a child you need to be patient and affectionate, and keep discipline for when he is not trying his best. You were right about not challenging her, anyway. She is the one in charge, because of her immensely superior maturity, and you need to respect her and be obedient and submissive.

What you did, spying on her and her boyfriend, was too bad. It’s a gross betrayal of confidence and of their privacy. Your curiosity has to end where grownups’ privacy starts. And I don’t care that they are younger than you. Being grown up is a matter of maturity. I’m sorry you got spanked so hard, but you deserved to be punished. You have to see how Nick had praised and defended you when he saw your hard work, but that good impression was erased by your spying.

Unless your skin is really sensitive and bruises easily, however, it would be advisable not to spank so hard. It is not necessary to make a child like you cry and be really sorry for his misbehavior.

On the bright side, I have to tell you that Miss Monica was teasing you about the mouse traps. What you saw were not traps for mouses, but articles of adult hygiene. You do not need to worry about them, since you are way too young for them, but you do not need to suffer: no mouse has been harmed.

A big hug to you!
INF

(The End)