X Rated Reads Free Stories

Miss Monica has been my Therapist for close to two years now. My story has to do with a dream I had while dealing with problems I've had since I was a child up thru my middle adult years.

My dream is an actual scenario that has played out since I was young (but since it involves Miss Monica, this particular scene would be more recent.) It starts with Mother entertaining two friends and me serving them in my pink apron and panties and my three inch square-heel slippers.

I was washing dishes when the doorbell rang and Mother told me to get it. When I opened the door, I was shocked to see my Goddess Therapist on the other side.

I was so happy to see her as I said, "Hi, Miss Monica!"

My happiness changed though as I saw The Goddess was not pleased with me. As anyone knows, Miss Monica does not have patience for nonsense. I began to tremble as she marched by me before I could even ask her to come in.

As Mother introduced Miss Monica to her friends, I realized that Mother and Miss Monica had already talked about me. As Mother was almost finished with her intros, Miss Monica's eyes began to water while she put her index finger under her nose.

"Oh my!" Goddess interrupted. "What is that smell?"

"Billi," Mother said. "Show her.”

I walked to the back room to show Miss Monica a wet urine-stained mattress. I was a chronic bed-wetter into my early 20s. I was able to wet less after that, but in recent years I'd begun doing it again, causing embarrassing situations such as the bad smell in the house.

"That's disgusting,” Miss Monica said to me, her tone no-nonsense. “You're much too old for this. Your Mother called me because she's at her wits end with you.”

Tears welled up in my eyes.

“This smell gets in people's clothes,” Miss Monica continued. “I'm sure it's getting in mine. Your mother can rarely have company because of you."

I was now sobbing. "I'm sorry Miss Monica. I..."

“Yes," she said. "You are sorry. Now march!"

She directed me to the living room and ordered me to bend over the back of the chair, my now tear-stained face facing Mother and her pair of friends, but I didn't care about who was watching or what was happening. My mind was on what I was in for - on why I was in the position I was in - and how to avoid it in the future.

Miss Monica then took a sinister looking switch out of the leather case she'd come with and took some very professional looking practice swings. The switch cut into the air with precision making a loud sound that had my whole body shaking. I hoped that she would leave my panties on for the punishment, but that became a moot point as she walked behind me, deftly reaching into the elastic waistband to yank the panties down to my ankles in one sweeping motion.

"You will stop your childish bed-wetting starting now, understood?" she asked as she readied behind me.

"Yes, yes Mistress!" I said, hoping against hope that my promise would avoid the impending whipping. Before I could think anymore I heard that strong cutting sound, then an even stronger "thwack" on my hind end. My eyes must have stretched out of my head as I let out a high-pitched "Hooo...!"

She leaned over. "How many is that?"

I took that as an order to count. In my best soprano I sang "One, Miss Monica, one."

ShhhWhack!

"Ooo.” I rhymed with "T-twooo."

HisssWHAck!

"Hmmm...” I hummed the note before singing. “Th-threee..."

SshhhWHAck!

"Four!" I hit my highest note, hoping the volume of my cry would show I had learned my lesson. My whole body was aching now, and making a monumental effort to keep from moving, except for the jello vibration of my behind after each of Miss Monica's stinging blows. By the time she struck the tenth, I felt a mixture of being wide awake, eyes bugged out of their sockets, and yet I felt I was about to pass out from the searing, unforgiving pain.

Then I was hit with #11. SsssWHAck!

"Oooh..." I sang in a perfect high C as I sat up.

Sat up?

I'd just awoken from my dream. I checked my bed. Dry! As always, my therapy sessions with Miss Monica work.