Persuasion

Persuasion

The girl Lydia had picked to do the deed was Chinese-American, round-faced and cute. Tom hadn’t caught her name, but she didn’t seem very happy with the honor.

"I won’t do it!" the girl wailed, twisting her arms and legs around in mid-air, making the harness rattle. "It’s dirty!"

Tom felt vaguely embarrassed for her. He felt even worse for himself; the new year had come and gone without him making any of his promised attempts to lose weight. At least he was standing on his own two feet, not slung up from the ceiling in some kind of leather bondage-thingy. And he had dressed as well as he was able, despite the fact that he was himself supposed to be getting nude in a matter of seconds.

Ponytailed Lydia, her tall, skeletal frame wrapped in a leather harness of her own, grinned at him with her mouthful of horsey, oversized teeth. "She’s nice. You like her." Neither remark was a question, but he nodded anyway.

He cleared his throat. "Are you sure she’s up for this?" he asked. He knew the girl’s protests were probably just staged, a little something extra to give the session spice, but his deeply-ingrained sense of guilt was giving him six shades of hell.

Lydia flashed him some more tooth, then turned and offered some to the girl. "You hear?" she asked. "Nice man wants to know if you’re up for this?" Her teeth distorted her voice a little, made it sound deep and slurred. It was crazy, but that turned him on as much as anything else. As much as the girl’s black-and-pink twat hanging in the air not two feet from his face, ready to be grabbed or kissed or whatever.

The girl pouted prettily, wriggling her toes. "Don’t wanna!" she said insistently. She didn’t look as indignant as before, but he was still worried. Still, he noticed, that wasn’t stopping his dick from getting hard.

"Sure you wanna." Lydia leaned towards her, reaching a long hand out to pluck at her belly. Her voice was as smooth and soothing as she could make it. "You’re gonna treat Mr. Man nice, aren’t you? We got you all ready, he paid his money. Now you got to give him some pee-pee. That’s what he likes."

Tom bit his lip, flustered at Lydia’s directness. As much as he had dreamt about this scene over the past month or so, it was still hard for him to hear it discussed frankly, in the infantile terms most people used when they talked about it at all. Pee-pee. Wee-wee. Tinkle. It was - well, yes, it was humiliating.

The girl, for whatever reason, was really putting on a show. "Don’t care. Ain’t gonna. Can’t make me." Tom wished she would just get on with it, give him the command/request to "get comfortable" and let rip on his shoulders. But whether this was all staged or simply because she didn’t like him, she was milking it for all it was worth.

"Oh, she’s gonna be a naughty girl," Lydia said wisely. "You better get under her, Tom, get ready. I’m gonna have to persuade her. When I make her go, it’s gonna come out hard and hot."

Tom stripped quickly, coloring under the girl’s jeers and intimations that he was a "stupid, perverted man." The abuse made him rock-hard, but he hated to admit it even to himself. He slid under her, on the newspaper-lined matting Lydia had provided, and waited.

It took Tom a minute to realize what Lydia was doing to her; the shrieks were coming loud and grating, one after another out of her mouth. She’s tickling her, he thought, not quite shocked. She was, too. He could see Lydia’s long fingers darting back and forth, nipping her ribs like vipers, scratching at her exposed soles, exploring the tender skin between her toes, reaming out her belly-button.

"Stop it!" the girl squealed. "Stop, can’t hold it when you do that!"

"That’s the idea, bitch," Lydia said smugly. "Kitchy. Kitchy-kitchy. Aww. Gonna pee? Gonna pee-pee?"

The first spurt of urine hit him between the eyes and he gasped sharply. Then the girl let go for real and he was writhing beneath her, grabbing himself and jerking frantically to the tune of her tortured laughter.

"Oh, poor baby!" Lydia chuckled. "Poor baby need a diaper?" And the girl went on and on, no no no, not a baby, I’m a big girl, so shrilly and insistently that Tom wondered, as he was blissfully spattered, if the girl hadn’t perhaps paid for this kind of treatment as well, and which of them had paid more.