My Miss, Melanie, is a well-respected witch.

She spends much of her time in conversation not only with fellow humans but with the rivers, trees, and mountains, as she is well versed in communication as well as with transformation. She also is a mentor to the many young witches who frequently come to visit us.

We have been living together for about six years.

Since I am inclined towards the herbals, I tend the garden, making many tinctures, potions, and teas. People often come by in need of remedies, either offering up a skill they have in exchange or helping us around the house. As a result, we always have a warm house full of enough food to share.

Miss strokes my jaw.

“What a wonderful house you keep, my love.”

She looks into my eyes enticing a kiss, but I know I have been forbidden touch. I desperately clench my fingers, entangled behind my back. Not once breaking eye contact Miss unbuttons my shirt, caressing my breast, rolling a nipple between her thumb and forefinger, making me sigh.

“I hope you are pleasured, my love.”

“Do you want some attention down here?” she asks, caressing my pussy through my clothes.

I am already drenched.

“Oh my, I think you do!”

I moan.

“I didn’t say you could speak.”

I am slapped across my face.

“It’s a shame, I really like you like this. We’ll see about you getting an orgasm some time. I know I frustrate you so. Tying you would make your predicament so much easier wouldn’t it? Well, too bad. Just keep your hands clasped or deal with the consequences, alright? Now, get to work.”

Starting by kissing the tip of one of her boots, I work my way up, kissing and licking. It takes a little bit of time to untie her laces with my teeth, loosening them to pull her boot off. Now the next one. I tug at her socks revealing her pointy toes, which I proceed to caress with my mouth.

Though it is not every day that I must do this task without the aid of my hands, I have done it enough times that it does not take me forever. I must admit that boots and feet were not really what I would have called fetishes of mine, but I know that they are important fetishes for my Miss, and partaking in her pleasure in this way really does give me much contentment as a lover and her sub.

Kissing my way up until I am below her knee, I look up into her eyes, questioning, as I have not been forbidden eye contact. I know she is incredibly aroused by this situation, especially as we haven’t done the whole “hands free” thing in a while.

What with having both been busy and preoccupied by things like collectively dealing with the aftermath of a landslide that happened last year. One of the houses at the base of the mountain had partially caved in, and we all fixed the house together, trying to make the area around the house safer, as well as restore the garden. What we would have liked to do would have been to wall up part of the mountain on the backside of the house so it would not slide into the house again.

However, as Melanie had been speaking to the mountain about this, and so we knew that the mountain simply thought that humans should not have built a house there, plain as that. Perhaps so, but there had never been a landslide there before and it defied previous patterns, so it was not something we expected to happen. Still, the mountain maintained we built too close to it. And though this was probably true also, the humans living in the affected house did not want to move after all the years they had put into keeping up the house and garden. But still, the mountain refused to be walled up, simply throwing the stones off if we attempted. Therefore we are at a troubling impasse.

Melanie even asked the mountain why it had not said anything until now, especially as it had approved the construction of the house to begin with. The mountain had been okay with it at first but it seemed as though it started to have mixed feelings about the house being there. We did know that it was right at the border of what is generally considered to be a permissible distance from the mountain, but it was such a lovely location for a human dwelling that they had went on to build it anyway.

Because of all of this we hadn’t even done the “welcome home” shoe and foot worship in a while, even with hands.

Kissing my way up into her skirt I gently kiss her mound, to which she moans. Tugging her leggings and panties down with my teeth, I start to gently lick her opening, nudging her clit with my nose. It does not take long to bring her to orgasm.

As I have not yet been released, hands still clasped behind my back, I am seated on my stool as she heats the stew I had made for dinner over the stove, which is crackling vigorously with the addition of a new log. Once the stew is ladled up into two bowls, she places one in front of me, and one in front of her own chair, plucking one spoon out of the dish rack.

“It looks and smells delicious, my love.”

Scooping up a spoonful, blowing on it to cool it, she proceeds to gulp down several of them.

“What is wrong, my love?” she asks, teasingly looking into my eyes, testing my response as she knows very well that I cannot eat with how hot the stew is. My stomach grumbles.
“Would you like help with that?”

It is a statement rather than a question. Dipping her spoon into my bowl she blows on it to cool it before feeding it to me. In this manner she spoon feeds me the rest of my stew with her spoon, alternating so that she is feeding herself while I chew.

This particular thing of her feeding the stew to me isn’t something we’ve done before, or at least not quite like this. She has fed things like bread to me, or spoon-fed me, but not as part of eating dinner together. It is kind of an interesting experience. In a way, I’m not sure if I can quite say I like or dislike it.

As we ready for bed, my hands have still not been released, a consequence of this being that I must request her assistance in wiping me after I have peed. Of course, she spends her time on it, looking at me teasingly, seeing to it that I am feeling pleasure, but not satisfied. Frustrated though I am, I knew this had been coming.

I also must let her brush my teeth. This is not the first time for this to happen, but she is not that great at it, though I can tell she is trying. I think it must be one of those things that are both easier to do to another person because you can see very well into their mouth, as well as being more difficult because you don’t have your own sensation to respond to it.

My desire to have some kind of sexual release ebbs and flows through the evening. And my desire to perform a “brat behavior” leading to her “punishment” (read: “funnishment”) piques, but I know that as we are getting ready for bed this is something that would require much time the next day.

I know that normally she would see to my release at least by the end of the night, before we sleep, and tempting as this is, I am rather eager to continue to play into the next day if time allows.

I check our shared calendar that hangs in the kitchen. I see something that I myself have scribbled in, but don’t see anything Melanie has written.

“Time out,” I say.

This is our shared safe word as well as something either one of us can say any time to “exit scene for a moment” in order to talk about something or check-in, etc. The hand signal is “T.” This is all just the same as when we were young children playing tag. Not only is this in keeping with the playful nature of our dynamic, but it also feels grounding for us. Another one that Melanie pulls more often than myself is the “Can I be Melanie now?” This is for when she is tired of being Miss and me treating her as the domme. When she (or I) say this all scene dynamics and power dynamics dissolve and we are simply Melanie and Cass, as equal partners.

“You don’t have anything written in the calendar. Do you have anything you need to… or want to I guess, do tomorrow, Melanie?” I ask.

She looks into my eyes already knowing that I am feeling bratty after what she has made me go through this evening.

“No. Not at all, actually. But I see you have something written here… What will happen with that?”

“It’s alright. I’ve already prepared the part that matters. The rest can be another day. You can handle it tomorrow. It’s just passing them the remedy they asked for. I’ve made it already.”

I say this emphasizing the “you” perhaps a little more than I intended to, in anticipation of her “funnishment.”

“Alright then. Are you going to tell me where the remedy is?”

She looks at me side-eyed, knowing I am eager to brat.

“Yeah, it’s just at the bottom right-hand side of the cabinet. Right at the front. End time out.”

This time it is her turn to pee, and I can’t wait for the opportunity to perform my “brat” whilst she goes to the toilet. But of course, she detects my excitement.

“Ah, love, I think I need your assistance,” she says, twining her fingers in my hair, tugging a little to lead me to the bathroom.

For a moment I expect to be made to swallow her pee as I am sometimes made to do, but it becomes quickly apparent that this is not her plan, as she relieves herself into the toilet, all the while not releasing her grip on my hair.

“My love, I think I need some assistance here. Will you clean me up?”

She guides my face up to her crotch, making what must be done quite clear. I lick all the droplets of piss off of her with extra care. Of course, she is turned on by this, as am I. But I try to concentrate on the task as I feel myself getting quite lubricated, as is she.

“I don’t think that is quite enough, my dear. How messy you can be.”

She tugs my face upwards, and I blush as I know I have done an impeccable job of cleaning her up.

She slaps me across the face.

Face slaps are definitely one of her favourite things, and mine too, though they always make me blush.

“Now get some paper to wipe me off properly.”

I bend over the toilet paper dispenser, attempting to grasp the edge of the paper with my teeth.

Most unexpectedly, my pants are pulled down and a finger is quickly submerged in me from behind. With her now lubricated digit she plunges into my arse. I moan. She knows how much I love anal stimulation.

“I didn’t say you could speak. Now get on with your task.”

Distracted by being fingered, I try to puzzle out how to tear off the piece of paper now that I have enough length pulled out. First I attempt to hold down the flap of the dispenser with my shoulder, but fail at this attempt.

“Mmm, this is taking you quite a while. I think we shall need to add a finger for every ten seconds longer you take. Since you have already taken so long, I think you are well overdue for your second,” she says as she adds another finger. Thrusting them in and out enthusiastically as she counts down from Ten… Nine… Eight…

At this rate, I am going to be fisted kneeling down on the bathroom floor. This is something I am not entirely prepared for, and consider timing out for a moment. But it is already “one” as she inserts the third finger.

I am fully aware that she is prepared for the idea of fisting as she applies generous amounts of lube, which is homemade by myself, I must add!

“Ten… Nine… Eight...”

In sheer panic I hold down the flap with my forehead and tear vigorously, leaving the edge in tatters, but with the piece of paper indeed successfully detached.

She quite suddenly removes all fingers, almost making me wish I had taken longer, but then I remember that I would not have been allowed orgasm anyway.

Trying my best to wad up the paper, I start to gently wipe her crotch.

“Well, that isn’t going to do it, is it? Give me a good wipe.”

I smell her arousal, and take forever to wipe her juices.

“Almost done there?” she sighs.

I pull away and go to toss the paper into the toilet, but she beats me to the bowl and slams the lid shut, causing me to look up at her in confusion.

“Now dispose of it yourself.”

Her meaning becomes clear.

Both of us know that a little piece of organic biodegradable paper will do my stomach and digestive system little harm.

She watches on, satisfied, as I swallow a little bit of the paper drenched with her juices. The scent has me quite turned on, but the task of having to swallow the paper does take away from it a little bit.

“Time out. I need water for this.”

She fetches a cup of water and tips some of it into my mouth. It makes the paper dissolve, which of course makes it much easier to swallow, but at the same time turns it into a much more disgusting, mealy texture. I still manage to force it all down my throat.

My plans for my “alone time” to brat have been thwarted by the whole toilet paper ordeal, leaving me now with the only option left being to sneak out of bed at night.

She undresses me, stroking me most sensuously, pinching my nipples, teasing me by running her hands up to just below my crotch but abruptly stopping, only to resume on the other side.

I scrunch my face up in frustration, which makes her smile, kissing my eyelids.

“You are so cute like this.”

And on go my pyjamas.

As little spoon, I am still not allowed use of my hands, which are tucked between my back and Melanie’s abdomen.

In anticipation, I am only able to half-sleep until I detect that Melanie is fully asleep.

I sneak over to my potion cabinet and extract a small bottle of a little potion that Cass the brat had made for exactly this purpose. It has turned out pretty well, if I do say so myself.

I lay out her tightly woven indigo cloak, which she always wears when she goes out, on top of her boots, pouring the entire contents of the bottle over the cloak and boots. It starts to fizzle and puss oozes out, gooey and sticky, conjoining the cloak and boots in one sticky mess. I know it can be undone, but know that it will be challenging if not impossible to do so with Melanie’s magic.

Slipping back into bed, I gently position myself to where I was, but hear a little break in her breathing rhythm. In an attempt to conceal the fact that I had been out of bed, though a bratty act in itself, I take her hand and guide it onto my pussy, which in her mostly sleep state, she instinctively starts to stroke. I moan rather loudly.

“Mmm… Cass, what a brat you are...” she mutters half-sleep, as she pulls my arms straight out behind me, laying her torso over them, painfully pinning me down.

After a broken and non-restful sleep for both of us, in the morning Melanie ties me naked to the post in the corner of the kitchen on the other side of the stove, going on to brew some tea.

A cup of tea in her hand, she goes to take a sip, but cannot as it is much too hot.

“Want some?”

“Yes please, Miss.”

She tips some of the scalding tea over one of my nipples.

I gasp.

“What are you going to do about it? You were asking for it, weren’t you?” she says, as she pours tea over the other nipple.

“Oh, but your poor little nipples. Maybe I can help them feel better.”

She licks my nipples, sliding her rough tongue over them, invigorating the burning sensation. I squirm, tucking a foot around the post I am tied to.

“Oh well, aren’t we feeling better? How about this?”

She bites down hard on one nipple, making me yelp.

“Now we wouldn’t want these pretty little things damaged, would we,” she says as she fondles one nipple while pressing the cup onto the other, the heat sending pain up my body as I try not to squirm, which would make the hot water spillover.

Miss leaves me to prepare two small buckets full of water and ties the handles together with a piece of rope. Holding the buckets up to my breasts, she submerges my nipples in the cool water, making relief surge over me.

“Open up,” she commands, placing the rope in my mouth.

“Hold tight.”

I bite down, holding the buckets in place. Small as the buckets are, I can already tell that they are going to start to feel heavy.

“We must keep your nipples cooled, so you must not let go no matter what. And you know what will happen if you spill any of the water?”

My eyes widen in minor panic, as the buckets are filled to the brim in order that my nipples might be fully submerged.

She slides my left butt cheek out from being pressed up against the post and strokes it with her paddle, which she keeps by the stove.

“Each drop you spill is one spank.”

She strokes my butt cheek with the paddle, obviously hoping to elicit a response. And her wish is met, as I begin to quiver and splash some water over the edge.

“Oh my, how many drops would you say? Fifteen at least!”

She starts to spank me, which of course results in an unending loop of getting spanked for spilling the water which I am spilling because I am getting spanked. Until there is not enough water in the buckets left to be spilled.

Lighter though the buckets have become, they are still weighty, and I am straining to hold them up with my teeth.

Miss strokes her finger up and down my neck making my hairs stand up.

“I love seeing your pretty neck like this.”

She gently strokes my neck, knowing how ticklish I am, but with how taut my muscles are this is not having the effect that she desires. Sliding my arms up the post, up above my head, I know what is coming and shake a little in anticipation.

“No moving, my love.”

I hear her open the cupboard which also makes me shake, knowing what is stored there.

She starts with the feather duster at my hands, moving ever so slightly down, incrementally teasing. She is barely at my elbow and I can hardly stand the anticipation. She moves just below the elbow, which is already too much and I drop the buckets.

In response Melanie pinches one of my sensitive nipples, making me gasp, untying me with her other hand.

Leading me by my firmly pinched nipple, we enter the bedroom.

“Make a star, face-up,” she commands, threateningly twiddling the feather duster.

I comply.

Opening the chest at the foot of the bed, she places the cane on the bed.

“You know what is coming if you move.”

She teases my face with the feather duster, mischievously smiling at me, sleep-deprived though she is.

As she moves down my chin with the feather duster, I take in a sharp breath and close my eyes, clenching my fists.

“Eyes open, and hands too. Palms up.”

I do as I am instructed, hard as it is.

I know she will work her way to my armpits last, and I try to focus on staying calm, but inevitably twitch as she starts up my side, to which she responds by flipping me over, holding my neck down with her knee, making it a little hard to breathe as she ravages my bottom with the cane. We both know that I will probably not be able to sit without pain for a week.

Leaving me lying on the bed, having told me to stay, she left the room. I have no idea what she has planned next, but still, all this without her having even discovered the mess I have made of the cloak and boots! But of course, by asking her about her plans today I had set the day up to be a play day, and she must have taken the cue with my behavior in bed last night, dialing all her “punishments” up several notches.

Melanie slides back into the room suspiciously slow, flipping me onto my back again, narrowing her eyes at me, but I see a playful glint in them.

“I saw what you did. You really are asking for something special, aren’t you?”

I nod vigorously.

“On the floor. Kneel.”

I have the feeling I know what she might be planning, but can’t be sure. If it is what I think, the few times we have done it, it was incredibly hot, but I can’t be sure so I try to not get my hopes up too much as I kneel.

She gently taps my shoulder.

Proven right in my hopes, I find that I am now a chair!

Though it is constricting, it is the most interesting feeling. I have the sensations of touch, smell, and sound, but cannot see or move freely, and I am of course fully in the form of a chair. Curiously, I find that my form is different than before. I have a rather sturdy wooden frame of a light-coloured wood, with the seat slightly cushioned and covered in leather, and as a sweet touch I find that the top of my “back” is in a dome shape with the hole - which is the handle - carved out in a heart shape.

My miss lifts me up by my heart shape and carries me back into the kitchen, placing me by the stove where I can feel the comfortable warmth. The sensation of being carried as a chair by my Miss is such a delight for me, and is one that is really hard to describe in words. I recall this feeling being one of the highlights from last time as a chair.

Melanie is usually not too keen on using magic like this in our play on a daily basis, for various reasons, so it is only on special occasions that we get to play like this. Likewise, other than the lube, which I make in abundance, my potions rarely play a part in our sexual or sensual interactions. This is a special occasion that I have used a potion to brat.

I hear Melanie drink the rest of her tea and tap one of the windows of our communication board, in order to speak with someone. I can hear that they are talking but cannot make out anything they are saying or who the other person is, as the board is placed on the wall around the corner from the kitchen.

Shortly after she returns to the kitchen, there is a knock on the door.

Oh yeah! It must be Peter.

Melanie opens the door.

“Oh, hi, Melanie.”

“Hi, Peter.”

I can hear that he is a little surprised to see Melanie and not me.

“Where’s Cass at?”

“She had to make some sudden plans.”

“Oh. Huh. That’s strange, ‘cause I talked to her just yesterday and I was going to help her with those fucked up floorboards you’ve got in the back room.”

“Thank you so much, Peter! But she told me to tell you that we could do it another day.”

“I see… Alright then, that’s fine.”

I could hear him turning to leave. There was a slight tone of recognition in his voice, and I wondered if he had noticed the extra chair, as he is over pretty often. After all, the last time I was a chair I had gushed to him about the whole thing afterwards.

I quickly flashed the tip of my front right leg red while squeaking, which is my way to “safe” or make verbal communication possible when necessary, as normally I am unable to speak as a chair.

I hear Melanie rush over.

“What is it, Cass?”

“Can you please give him that cough syrup? It’s for his aunt.”

I hear Melanie open the cupboard and pulling out the bottle I had told her about yesterday.

“Oh yeah, there was that too. But I wasn’t sure you’d know where it was at. Thank you, Melanie.”

I flash my leg again as I remember another thing, and hear Melanie rushing over again.

“Oh come on, Melanie, I know that Cass is the chair by now. If she can speak normally let me talk to her directly.”

I hear Peter walking over, and squat down by me, the chair.

“What is it, Cass? Having fun as the chair by the way? The last time you really were glowing about it. It’s definitely one of those situations where you can’t tell how much fun the other person’s having.”

“There was the other thing I was going to give you… I’m sorry I forgot...”

“Yeah, I know but I wasn’t about to ask Melanie for it.”

“But you’ve got a date with Adam today, don’t you?”

“...Yeah...”

I know that Peter can be a bit shy about talking about sex, though he doesn’t mind us, or other people being sexual one bit, although something like this whole chair thing can be as sexual or nonsexual of a way of play as you want it to be, I guess. And Peter being close to me, he usually doesn’t mind talking to me about this stuff, but isn’t as close with Melanie making him shy to talk about these things with her.

“I’m sorry, Peter. I forgot. I was just thinking of the cough syrup, which I figured I could get Melanie to hand you.”

“...”

“How about if I tell Melanie to get it? You don’t have to say anything about it.”

“Yeah, but she’ll say something to me about it.”

“I’ll tell her not to. For sure.”

“...Okay.”

“Call Melanie over here so I can talk to her, will you? I can only whisper as the chair.”

“Melanie, Cass wants to talk to you.”

“Yeah, Cass?”

“Can you give the smaller tub of lube in the bathroom cabinet to Peter? And you can’t say ANYTHING about it to him, okay? No strange looks or ANYTHING! Okay? The only thing you can say is: ‘Your welcome,’ okay?”

“Okay fine, but why have you got to be so sensitive about it? I mean if he knows about you being the chair obviously he knows all about our sex games and that doesn’t seem to make him uncomfortable or anything.”

“Yeah, but that’s different. He doesn’t want to talk about himself. To you anyways. Probably because you always tease people about stuff.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not exactly like Peter and Adam having a date tonight is news or anything. The whole town knows. Also Shirley, right?”

“Well, maybe that’s the problem! All you gossips!”

“Oh, as if you don’t gossip, Cass!”

“I never tell you any of this!”

“Oh, come on.”

“Anyway, I’m not having an argument with you as a chair while Peter waits for his lube I promised him.”

“Well, you’re the one that went on to become a chair without telling me about Peter and the lube.”

“I didn’t know you would turn me into a chair.”

“Yes, you did!”

“No, I didn’t!”

“Well, what was all that bratting about then? It was written all over your face that you wanted chair time.”

“Yeah, you’re right about that.”

“See!”

“Okay, end conversation.”

I turned off the red light that had been illuminating my leg, ending my ability to speak, inwardly smiling at how this gave me the upper hand in an argument.

I can feel Peter blush across the room as Melanie hands him the lube and, as promised, “Thank you” and “Your welcome” are the only words exchanged, though I cannot be too sure about the looks.

I do feel bad about being a chair and all when I had promised him yesterday, but to be honest I had forgotten a little bit about that part, and had only clearly remembered the cough syrup, which I had to make, and floorboards. Since I always have lots of lube made up, I just had to spoon some of it into a smaller jar, and since he was going to come today, I would have been able to hand it to him, no problem.

I will have to make it up to him on a later date.

After Peter leaves, I hear Melanie tidying up, shortly after which there is another knock on the door.

I know this must be whomever Melanie was calling earlier.

“Come in!”

The door opens.

“Hi, Melanie.”

It takes me a moment to place the voice but it must be someone I know fairly well?

“Hi, Ash.”

Oh, Ash!

“I see what a lovely new chair you have!”

“Oh, please do take a seat on it, as it is quite lovely if I do say so myself.”

“With pleasure!”