Under Her Thumb

 

I’m not back.  This is just a little ditty that came to me.

 

Under Her Thumb

(Did I Say You Could Do That?)

By Karen Singer

 

 

The party banter was typical.  Everybody drinking, everybody talking.  Nobody really saying anything.  The only really good thing about the party was the open bar.

I had seen him a number of times throughout the evening, but not once did I ever really look in his direction.  It was always out of the corner of my eye.  But even still, I knew I had him pegged to a T!  Through the whole party so far, I hadn’t seen him talk to a single person.  He stood there, drink in hand, and never moved from his spot next to the wall.  He was watching everyone else without seriously looking at any of them.  I had to wonder why he hadn’t left yet.  I had to wonder why he had come in the first place.

As I half-listened to the women in the group I was talking with, I was thinking more about him than anything else.  I was betting myself that I could have him under my thumb inside of an hour.  Maybe less.

At the first opportunity, I took a cue to leave those vague acquaintances I had been talking with and walk over to the bar to refresh my drink.  From there, I circled the big room, still never looking right at him, and yet keeping my eyes on him.

I walked up right next to him and stood there.  I’m not even sure he realized I was there.  Still not looking at him, I said, “Hi.”  I saw him startle a bit out of the corner of my eye.  His head turned slightly in my direction but not all the way.  He couldn’t seem to find it in himself to really look at me.  Amusing.  Still not looking at him I said, “What’s your name?”

“Joe,” he replied.

“Joe,” I repeated.

“And you?” he asked.

“Me what?”

“What’s your name?”

“Did I say you could ask my name?”

“Uh…no.”

“Then don’t!”

“Uh…okay.”

“So Joe,” I said.  “What brings you to this party?”

“I work with Patty.  Her desk is right next to mine.”

“So you’re one of her work friends,” I noted. 

“Yeah,” he replied.

“Have you talked to her tonight?  Said happy birthday?”

“Uh…no.  I said that earlier today.  At work.”

“But you came to this party anyway.”

“Yeah.  She invited me.”

“Good boy,” I praised, fighting the urge to laugh.  So far, he still hadn’t turned his head to really look at me.  His head was slightly down as he looked out at all the people he probably didn’t even know.  I was fairly sure he wasn’t looking any of them in the eye either.  “Are there a lot of people here from where you work?” I asked.

“Just a few,” he replied.

“That’s nice I told him.  So you came, but you haven’t talked to Patty at all yet.”

“Not yet,” he said.

“Tell me,” I said.  “Have you seen her here?”

“Of course,” he replied.

“Don’t look at her!” I ordered.  “Tell me, what’s she wearing?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t look at her, but tell me what she’s wearing.”

“Uh…a dress.”

“No.  Describe it!”

“I…can’t.  I don’t know.”

“I figured.  Here’s an easier question for you.  What color is my hair?”  I saw him start to turn and I quickly let out a sharp retort.  “Eh!  Did I say you could look at me?”  There was no doubt he was startled now.  “Keep your eyes down.  Look at the floor!”  Out of the corner of my eye still, I could see how startled he was.  I could also see he was looking down at the floor.  I had no doubt he was paying more attention to my legs though, which amused me to no end.  “What are you drinking Joe?”

“Coke.”

“Just Coke?”

“Just Coke,” he confirmed.

“It’s an open bar.  Why not take advantage of it?”

“Uh…I don’t drink alcohol.”

“Religious?”

“No.  I just don’t like anything with alcohol in it.”

I shook my head, reached over and took his mostly empty glass from his hand.  When his head started to turn up I quickly said, “Eh!  I didn’t say you could look at me.”  His head went down again.  “Follow me,” I said.  “Let’s get you a better drink.”

“But I don’t drink!” he complained as I led the way toward the bar.

I was amused that he was still following me.  “Don’t worry,” I said loud enough for him to hear behind me.  “Nothing with alcohol.”

At the bar, I leaned over and talked to the guy making the drinks and told him what I wanted.  He looked at me strangely.  “And put a straw in it,” I finished.  He shrugged, but moved away to make the drink.  A minute later, he was back, and handed it to me.  I turned around and handed it to Joe. 

“What’s this?” he asked as he looked at the drink with the cherry on top.

“It’s a Shirley Temple,” I told him.  “Now come on.  And Joe, I still haven’t given you permission to look at me, but tell you what, you can look at my legs all you want.  I’m sure you’d like that.”  Saying nothing more, I led him right back to his original spot by the wall.

“What’s a Shirley Temple?” he asked once we were back standing next to each other again.

“A kid’s drink,” I told him.  “No alcohol.”

“A kid’s drink?”

“Drink it!  All of it.  Through the straw.  And don’t look at me.  Just my legs.”  He was too easy.  I turned my head to watch him now as he put the straw to his lips and take a sip of the drink.

“It’s fruity,” he said.

“Yes.  Drink it.”

I let him sip at it for a few minutes.  I didn’t miss the way his head never turned in my direction, but his eyes kept glancing at my legs.  “Do you like my legs Joe?” I asked.  I saw that slight startle in him again.  When he didn’t answer, I asked again.  “Joe!  Do you like my legs?”

“Yes, they’re…”

“Pretty?  Beautiful?  Sexy?” I suggested.

“Yes,” he replied.

“Good,” I said.  “I’m very proud of my legs.  It’s why I usually wear very short skirts and very high heels.  Do you like my shoes?”

“Yes,” he admitted.

There was no doubt he was looking at my feet more seriously now.  “Finish your Shirly Temple Joey,” I told him.  “You can keep looking at my legs while you drink it.”

I stood there next to him, watching him out of the corner of my eye as patiently as possible while he did nothing more than drink that stupid Shirly Temple and stare down at my legs and feet.  When he finished it, I took it from him.  “Follow me Joey,” I told him.  “Let’s get you another one.  Open bar, remember?  Got to take advantage of it.  Just enjoy my legs Joey while you follow me.”

He was simply too easy.  He followed me back to the bar where I got him a second Shirley Temple.  I myself carried the drink as I led him back to our place on the wall where he had spent the entire party so far.  “Here,” I told him as I handed him the drink.  “Drink up and enjoy my legs.  I’ll bet you don’t get to stare at a woman’s legs that often, do you.”  He took a sip of the drink, but he didn’t answer my question.  “I said, I’ll bet you don’t get to stare at women’s legs very often, do you.”  Again, he didn’t answer, but I had my answer to that question.  “Oh,” I said.  “You do look.  You look a lot.  You just don’t look directly at them so nobody can see you looking.  One of those.”

He didn’t answer.  He just looked straight down at the floor as he sipped that dumb drink.  Not really looking at my legs now.  I moved my feet clad in exquisite black velvet high heels.  He noticed that movement and his eyes returned to them.  “Look at my feet, Joey,” I told him.  “Don’t take your eyes off them.  Enjoy the show.”

I occasionally moved my feet into slightly different standing positions.  After a minute or so, his eyes started to look away.  “Eh!” I admonished.  “Did I say you could look away?  No!  So look!”  His eyes went right back to my feet again.  I was beginning to get wet inside my panties.

“Joey,” I said, looking out at the sea of partying people.  “While you’re drinking that kid’s Shirley Temple, I want you to put your other hand in your pants pocket.”

He started to look up.  “Eh!  Did I say you could look at me?  No!  Just my feet!  And you better be looking at them while you drink that thing.”  His head went down again, and his lips wrapped around the straw.  “Put…your…hand…in…your…pocket Joey!” I ordered, speaking each word slowly and clearly.  There was a slight movement next to me and I had no doubt he had done as I asked.  “Deep in your pocket Joey,” I told him.  I waited a few moments, watching his head out of the corner of my eye.  Then I laid it on him.  “Now,” I said.  “Stand there and drink you nice Shirley Temple like a good little boy, and with your other hand in your pocket, start playing with your dick.”

“Huh?”  Once again he started to turn his head.

“Eh!  Do as you’re told!  I didn’t say you could do anything else.  Look at my feet and play with your dick.  Make it hard.  Keep it hard.  Keep playing with it inside your pants while you look at my feet!  Don’t even think about not doing what I tell you or there will be consequences you don’t want to think about.  Understand?  Now do it!”

Not once had I allowed the volume of my voice to raise to a level where anyone else could hear it.  Not once did I have any expression on my face other than kindness.  I had said it all softly but firmly, in a tone I was hoping he’d understand.  Once said, I simply stood there next to him watching him out of the corner of my eye, occasionally moving my feet and legs to give him a slightly different view of them.  And out of the corner of my eye, I not only noticed the slight movement in the front of his pants, that bulge where his hand was, was getting bigger.  Once again I had to stifle a laugh.

“Keep playing with yourself,” I told him.  “I didn’t say you could stop.  Keep playing…until you cum in your pants.”

Once again he started to turn toward me.  Once again I admonished him.  “Eh!  I still didn’t say you could look at me!  Play with yourself!”  I was silent, standing there waiting until I noticed he was once again working on his dick inside his pants.  “Don’t forget your drink,” I reminded him.  “It’s an open bar.  And don’t worry.  I’ve got all night.  I’m going to stand here with you until I’m sure you’ve let yourself splatter everything right inside your pants.  So enjoy yourself Joey.  That much, I am saying you can do.”

It took a little while, but not too long.  The sound of the straw in his drink coming up empty reached my ears, and I looked down to see him still sipping, still looking at my feet and legs…and I realized by his slight shaking he was trying to hide, that he was cumming in his pants right there and then.  Even out of the corner of my eye I could see the small wet spot beginning to form on the front of his pants.  It was a moment to savor.  The dumb dork was simply too easy.

“Good boy, Joey,” I praised him, still never once really looking at him.  “Good boy.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him glance down at the front of his pants.  I had no doubt he was embarrassed as hell.  Once again I had to stifle the laugh that threatened to escape.

“Joey,” I said, wondering if he was dumb enough to keep going.  “Take that empty drink back to the bar and get yourself another one.”

“But…” he started.

“Eh!  Did I say you could argue with me?  No!  I told you to get yourself another drink.  Another Shirley Temple.  Now go!”

“But…”

“Eh!” I admonished sternly.  “Consequences, remember?”

“But…”

“Go!”

I wasn’t sure if I should be amazed or not that the dork actually went.  All the way across the room with that small wet spot on the front of his pants.  I watched as he handed his glass to the bartender and asked for another drink.  A few minutes later, he was walking back with another drink, the red cherry on top telling me it was another one of the kid’s drinks.

When he got close to me, I saw his head start to come up toward my face.  “Eh!” I admonished.  “Keep those eyes down where they belong!”  His head bowed again, and he took his place next to me.  “Good boy, Joey,” I praised.  “Drink your Shirly Temple like a good little boy now.”

I stood there waiting and watching him out of the corner of his eye.  He had been so easy, and my panties were getting so wet.  “What’s your phone number?” I asked as I reached into my purse and pulled out my cellphone.

“My what?” he asked.

“Your phone number!  What is it?”

“Uh…”  It took him a moment, then he recited a string of numbers.  I entered them into my phone.  “Give me your phone,” I told him.

He reached into his pocket and pulled his cellphone out and handed it to me.  I entered my own phone number.  I handed it back to him.

He looked at the phone.  “I don’t see your name,” he said.

“Did I say I was going to let you know my name?  No!  I didn’t.  My number is under X.  If X pops up on your screen that’s me.  Now put your phone away.”

I watched as he put the phone back into his pocket.  “Don’t forget your drink.  It’s free, so drink it all.”

I stood there patiently for a long time while he worked with the straw on that drink.  He had just cum while standing right next to me.  This was his third Shirley Temple, on top of most of a glass of Coke he had drank earlier.  I had a pretty good idea what all that liquid going into his bladder was going to do to him, especially after cumming.  Men!  They’re always so predictable.  Once again, I moved my feet and legs while he drank that stupid kid’s drink so he could get a fresh view of them. 

Finally, I heard the telltale sound of the straw in his drink coming up empty.  His head finally came up a little as he removed the straw from his mouth.  “Did you enjoy your drink?” I asked.

“It’s not…bad,” he admitted.

“Good.  I’m glad,” I told him.

“I need to…”

“Eh!” I stopped him quickly.  “Did I say you could say anything?”

“But…”

“Eh!”  He was silent again.  “Let me guess,” I said.  “You’ve got to pee.”

“Yeah,” he replied softly.  “I’ll be…”

“Eh!”  I waited a moment.  “Did I say you could go anywhere?  No!  So just stand there and pee.”

“What?”

“Eh!  Did I say you could argue with me?  No!  Consequences, remember?”

“Like what?”

“Like…how would you like it if I pulled you across my knee right here in front of everyone else, and spanked your ass good!  Spanked it until you peed helplessly in front of all of them, and then kept spanking you until you cried like the little kid you are at heart and ran out of here?  Huh?  Would you rather I did that to you?  And in case you’re wondering if I’d really do it, I’ll tell you this much, I’ve done it before!”

“You have?”

“Yes!  Now pee.  Wet those silly pants of yours.”  He didn’t need to know that I actually hadn’t done that…ever.  But I had done things that were close.  It was simply the first nasty consequence I could think of at the time.

“I’m waiting,” I said after a few moments.  I could tell he wanted to say something, but he was too afraid.  “Joey…” I said, my eyes still never looking at him.  “Let it out.  Let it out into your pants.  If you don’t….”

“Please…”

“Eh!”  That stopped his pathetic begging quickly.  “Pee!  Now!  In your pants!  Let it out.  In your pants.  In front of everyone here.”

Once again I waited, but it wasn’t long.  It was the odor that hit me before anything else.  I turned my head fully to look.  “Good boy, Joey,” I told him.  “That’s a very good boy.”  I noticed a few people starting to look at him now.  It was about time!

“Now go take that empty glass of yours,” I told him.  “And walk straight across the room in your pee soaked pants, and get yourself another Shirley Temple to drink.  Now Joey!  Now!  Let them all see your wet pants.  Get yourself another Shirley Temple to drink, and bring it right back here.”

There were more people looking at him now.  “Go!” I ordered. 

He was hesitant at first, but eventually he moved.  Slowly, he made his way through the people, across the room to the bar.  Almost everyone was looking at him.  I saw him hand the glass to the bartender and order himself another drink.  I never saw him walk back, because I wasn’t there.  I left the party.