“Seven... Seven! Thank you.” Mrs. Dupree was swinging the tawse with all her might bur no reaction came. The final five strokes were the hardest...but they were counted off without faltering. As Miles calmly spoke the words, “Twelve thank you Ma’am,” he felt a twinge of disappointment that it was all over. He didn’t understand the emotion, but he wanted so much to please Mrs. Dupree; to suffer and sacrifice himself unreservedly. “May I get up please Ma’am?” “Of course you may.” Holding his. I wanted other people to see me when I wet myself.To judge me as a dirty pissy whore.The urge to actually do it grew as fast as those wet patches grew; every time I stood in the bath and pissed myself edged me closer to the point where I had to do it for real as the sexual reward rapidly diminished.I did it in the garden, where someone could see me.I did it in the street, in the dark where someone saw me but didn’t know what I was doing; didn’t know that I was pissing myself and didn’t know. More

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