Chapter 7
Thalia woke up with a start. Eeep! What was that crawling over her face?! Oh... Ewww! A string of her own drool. Apparently she had fallen into a deep, almost coma-like sleep last night. Everything after that insanely intense orgasm was kind of a blur. Roger had to handle her almost like a rag doll. She was in a dazed, otherworldly haze, her brain fuzzy and unfocused. She had gone straight from the high to feeling drained and exhausted, falling asleep in a way that felt almost like passing out. She had no recollection of Roger leaving. (He actually left after holding her and allowing her to fall asleep in his arms.)
She looked at the clock on her bedside table: 8:13 am. Not too late, then, despite sleeping through without setting an alarm. An inevitable outcome of her stupidly early bedtime. She probably fell asleep before nine pm last night.
“Morning, sleepyhead!” Roger chirruped cheerfully. She nearly jumped out of her skin. She was just getting out of bed and he had startled her so much that she stumbled and landed on her butt on the floor. Awkward! What was he doing there so early?!
“Do you live here now?” She pouted.
“I've actually slept at home and done a bunch of stuff while you were snoring away. Really cute, by the way, I can show you the video later.”
Snoring?! And he had it on video?! He had to be kidding, right? But she could already tell from his mischievously smug expression that he wasn't. Ughh. Were the indignities ever going to end? And the day had barely just began! And then it all rushed back in. It was Saturday. They were going to the park today. And she was going naked, unless Roger had by some miracle changed his mind since last night. She tensed, then sighed.
She got up. She needed to go to the toilet, but Roger was in the way... and as she approached him, he pretended not to understand her intention. He closed the door and turned the key.
“Uh, Roger, I need...” he shushed her with a finger over her lips. He applied gentle pressure to her shoulder and she sunk to her knees. There was no point in fighting him when he steered and positioned her, but it was only down on her knees, faced with the tent in his black sweatpants with dark blue stripes that she remembered the other thing from yesterday. Their new deal.
Clearly, what he needed took precedence, even though her bladder felt like it was about to burst.
“Go on,” he demanded casually.
Was this what it was going to be like now? Roger casually barking commands, making demands, having her attend to his sexual needs like it was just another house chore? In exchange for...
No! She had to stop herself right there. If she allowed her mind to drift to last night, she was definitely going to get turned on and wet again, and then this whole deal will have been for nothing! The teeniest, tiniest shred of dignity she might be able to cling on even today could be lost if she allowed herself to remember, to imagine, to hope that maybe he could make her feel like that again.
Instead, she peeled his sweatpants and boxer shorts away from his body, freeing his tween erection, and pulled them down, wrapping her lips around his cock. She had given him this power and he had ways to punish her. Most of them official, that he wouldn't even have to hide from her mum. And then there were the contents of his phone... pictures and videos, like her admission and apology after she wet herself during a naked spanking... Yeah. She had no intention to fuck around and find out, on this occasion, and simply got busy trying to get him off quickly, to get this over with so she could go and use the toilet!
It shouldn't have felt so easy, so natural, to be down on her knees in front of Roger, giving him a BJ, but Thalia had to admit to herself that it did. There was something uncomplicated and weirdly soothing about going along with it, leaving Roger in charge and being a good girl. Having been instructed on the night before, she had all the basics covered; no teeth, just lips and tongue, some suction, some motion. She already knew she was going to have to let him cum in her mouth and swallow it. She found herself just going with the flow. Somehow, since she didn't have it in her to resist the situation in its entirety, it felt pretty pointless to try and push back on specific details and risk being punished over something trivial. Better to just be a good girl.
Oh gawd, did I really just catch myself thinking that? She would have smacked her forehead if it wasn't so close to smacking against Roger's pubis and her hands busy holding onto his hips as she bobbed her head, sliding her lips and tongue over his glans and shaft over and over again.
Was it just the urgent need to pee, or was Roger lasting much longer than last night? She looked up, trying to scan his face and see if he was near yet. He looked down, their eyes meeting.
“Oh yes, that's a nice touch. Sexy. Keep your eyes on mine.”
She slightly rolled her eyes at the instruction, which earned her a short, sharp tug on her hair which made her whimper and obey. From that moment onward, she worked Roger's erection with her gorgeous, hazel eyes locked looking upwards into his. The composed expression on his face as he calmly gazed down at her with his eyes, that hard to definite, stormy-sea colour that looked grey, blueish or even greenish depending on the light felt almost hypnotic. She could lose herself in it, relax into it, submit so easily. But she was struggling to kneel straight now, her legs clamped together and wiggling slightly, trying to cross even though she was down on her knees, her body giving all the “need-to-pee” cues that it could while she was too busy sucking Roger's cock to actually TELL him how urgent the issue was.
“Listen,” he started, his voice not even strained. How was he not even close yet? This blowjob was now definitely a disaster waiting to happen. She was going to soak and stain the carpet any minute now!
“Today has been carefully planned and prepared. Every moment, every step will be a part of your PFDS treatment. The focus today will be on treatment-avoidance. Follow every instruction you're given. Endure every predicament you find yourself in. Every bit of resistance, no matter how big or small, will be crushed,” warned Roger. “I will not give you even an inch today. Once something happening, you'll go along with it. I will make you go along with it. If you fight it, I'll double down. I have some very creative ideas on how I can make things that will already feel pretty bad much, much worse. Every time you hesitate, every time you misbehave, things will get a little worse. A bit more extreme. Each time you get a chance to be good and fail, you'll add to the duration and intensity of the embarrassment and humiliation that's ahead of you today,” he droned on, lectuting her. He seemed barely affected by her efforts!
“That's it. Now... you look like you need to pee...” he commented and she nodded slightly and huffed angrily.
“Well that's not happening until you're done, so how about you show me your actual best effort,” he shrugged. She groaned around his cock, and then really went to town with it. She needed this to be over quickly. Her tongue started to lash and slide all over the underside of his penis. Her lips kept such a tight seal around it as she slid up and down the shaft that her jaw started to hurt and she picked up the speed, too. At first, she couldn't tell if it was making a difference, then, after about twenty seconds of all that, a moan escaped Roger's lips. Finally! But was it too late? She was clenching her legs with all her might now. Cold from kneeling in the bedroom naked, bladder full, it felt like she was fighting a losing battle. It made her suck Roger's cock like she was in a frenzy!
It was so sexy to watch... to see her so desperate to make him cum, slaving away for it. He couldn't hold it back any longer; he had been actively holding out on her for several minutes at that point, clenching and resisting the urge to cum, but finally, nature took its course overriding his will and his cock strained and spurted inside her mouth.
In a desperate attempt to please him and avoid any further arguments and delays, Thalia swallowed every drop. It seemed easier today. Was she getting used to it already, or was it actually runnier today? But she didn't have much time to contemplate that. Her mouth popped off his cock with a wet sound and she gazed up at him.
“Roger, please, I really need to pee now!” she whispered urgently.
“Come with me,” he said, not really answering her plea, which made her heart thump in panic. And he led the way downstairs, too, not to the bathroom. She whimpered. She was only seconds away from wetting herself, which would be mortifying, not to mention she was sure she'd also get punished for it. It was so unfair!
She was squirming and crossing her legs in a helpless rendition of the time old “potty dance” of children desperate to pee as soon as they made it to the kitchen.
“Mornin',” said Mrs. Crowford—she seemed cheerful and oblivious so Thalias blatantly obvious distress. Thalia didn't even respond, her eyes kept flicking towards Roger, waiting for him to finally allow her to run to the toilet. Even if he did now, it might just be too late. She wasn't sure she could even make it up the stairs again!
“Hi, Thalia!”
Thalia froze in place, her head jerking towards the kitchen table, eyes going wide. Daniel from their class at school. Oh gawd! And she was butt-naked and obviously struggling not to wet herself. She died a little on the inside, her face turning red faster than ever before.
“Ugh... uhm... hi,” she stammered, wide-eyed, hands over her crotch, as much to press against the urge to pee as to cover herself, panicked.
“Thalia,” Roger said in a perfectly calm tone of voice.
“You can go potty,” he said and slid a plastic potty, the simple type that people use for toddlers during their potty training, just slightly bigger, over to her with his foot.
In any other situation, she would have screamed at him, argued, she might have picked up the potty and whacked him over the head with it, even knowing it would cost her a spanking, but Roger had set the situation up perfectly. There was only one thing she could do at that point, bar running out of the room with urine trickling down her thighs...
Thalia squatted down, sat down on the potty and let out a breath that was party a huff, partly a sigh of relief, partly, it almost sounded like a moan.
Right there, naked and exposed, on the kitchen floor, in plain view of her mum, Roger and also Daniel, Thalia started to pee, blood pounding in her temples and humming in her ears. This was a new low, a new level of humiliation that caught her completely by surprise. Thalia went from sleep-addled, freshly woken to being overwhelmingly awake and aware of every little detail of her situation in just a few heartbeats.
She didn't realise the stream hitting the plastic of the inside of the potty was going to be so loud! It was the loudest, well, really the only sound in the room and it was the most embarrassing experience ever! And it wouldn't stop in a hurry, either. Her bladder had been full and it took quite a few seconds for it to empty itself entirely into the potty, making for what felt like an eternity, a prolonged, torturous humiliation.
The worst part? When she was done, it wasn't over. She could smell the scent of her pee emanating from the potty. She needed to wipe before she could stand up. She needed to... well, it felt like she needed to crawl into a hole and die of shame. How could she ever face Daniel again at school, or anywhere, really?!
Roger passed her a paper tissue and she wiped and threw it into the potty, standing up. Her legs were shaky, unsteady, like a newborn lamb's. What now? She felt lost... and weirdly... possibly due to the intensity of the night before, her eyes locked onto Roger. For help. For guidance... for instructions.
“It's all right, I'll take that. You wash your hands, then go and ask Daniel if he wants a cuppa or something. Hands on your head when you don't need them elsewhere,” added Roger. A casual little indignity just thrown in there for good measure, as if she wasn't just about dying of embarrassment already.
He picked up the potty and took it to the utility room to dump the contents and rinse it.
Thalia stumbled towards the kitchen sink to wash her hands, dropping the towel that hung on a hook near the sink onto the floor. Her hands were shaky. She then staggered towards the kitchen table, towards Daniel—red-faced and wide-eyed, hands already on her head when she faced him.
“Would you like a cup of tea... or something?” she croaked, her voice hushed, her throat tense.
What Daniel seemed to want the most was what he was getting already—a nice, close, full-frontal view of his stark-naked classmate. He took a sweet moment before he answered, eyes wandering over every exposed inch of Thalia's skin, lingering on the just-wiped pussy lips noticeably.
She wanted to huff something like “my eyes are up here” at him, but Roger was just coming back into the room and she didn't want to also get her butt spanked in front of Daniel, on top of the mortification she was trying her hardest to forget. Not that Roger made it easy when he noisily plonked the emptied and rinsed plastic potty back on the floor in the middle of the kitchen. The noise made her wince.
“OJ?” Daniel wasn't a fan of tea.
“Sure,” she peeped and turned just in time for her eyes to meet Roger's.
“Tea for me. You know how I like it.”
She did. It was impossible not to, after a week of naked chores and attending to Roger's whims. A decent dash of milk, two sugars.
“May I have some as well?” she asked as she turned towards the kitchen counter, her hands finally leaving her head as she filled the kettle, grabbed a cup and popped a teabag in.
“Yes, and whatever you like for breakfast. I've eaten.”
Thalia grabbed another cup, poured some juice for Daniel and popped a toast into the toaster.
Despite being allowed to grab whatever she liked for breakfast (in her case, a very milky cup of tea, one sugar and toast with butter and shredless marmalade), she couldn't help but feel like the boys' maid as she handed Daniel the juice (did he *have to* look like he wanted a piece of HER for breakfast?!) and Roger his tea.
She ate her breakfast in silence, glumly. Daniel's unexpected presence in the kitchen threw her. Just as she was beginning to wrap her mind around the fact that she was going to have to go to the park naked, Roger threw her this curveball and she was struggling to calm down and recover.
“I hear you have a busy day ahead,” commented Daniel out of blue, making her almost choke on the piece of toast she was trying to swallow. Busy. Right.
“Roger didn't give me any details, other than we're going to the park. And that I have to be a good girl,” she added, allowing herself a brief pout and a frown in Roger's direction. It shouldn't have mattered, but the fact that Daniel seemed to know more about what was about to happen to her than she did really irked her.
“The details are easy. It's the weekend, no school, and all the difficult chores are done, so we'll focus on the regression aspect of your treatment today, along with making sure there's enough humiliation to prevent any resistance to treatment,” said Roger sagely. He was sounding older than his years. The evening calls and messages exchanged with Jason were paying off!
Mrs. Crowford was sitting there, sipping her morning coffee and paying more attention to her copy of the Daily Mail than to the children, but she nodded her approval as Roger spoke.
“You get to be three or so again today,” announced Roger and Thalia almost spat her tea out, this time actually ending up in a coughing fit that took her a minute to get some control over.
Three. Years. Old.
A few choice swearwords flicked through Thalia's mind, but none quite found their way past her lips in an audible form, just a wordless huff.
If looks could kill, Roger would, yet again, be dead on the spot. Alas—the daggers in her glare were purely metaphorical.
“You will put your hair in pigtails,” he announced and Thalia's teeth audibly creaked as she tensed her jaw, “with cute pink scrunchies. You'll use the potty all day unless you earn additional punishment, in which case you might find yourself in pull-ups and changed—in public and with an audience—when you wet yourself.”
Thalia paled. Nappies? He had to be kidding now! Her eyes turned towards her mum but Mrs. Crowford carried on reading her paper and sipping her coffee, unperturbed.
“So far, I'm only planning to take you out to the park and the playground there. We will be back by lunchtime and stay here—unless you resist and give me a reason to make sure the treatment really sinks in.
She wanted to scream, flip the table, and stomp off. A week ago—dozens of punishments ago—she would have. That morning, she instead forced herself to nod and smile.
“Is there really nothing at all I could do to earn a milder version of the... therapy?” she tried cautiously.
“I'll do whatever you tell me to do, of course,” she assured him hastily.
“I'm just wondering if maybe there's a chance I could keep at least a small, childish pair of panties on. You could... dress me up like a three-year-old...” she shrugged.
She knew she would hate that, but dressing up and acting like a tiny tot still beat being paraded around naked on top of being treated like one!
“We considered that,” offered Roger, “but in the end, we think that you could just laugh off a childish outfit. It wouldn't quite produce the level of vulnerability we're aiming for.” Thalia's mum nodding and humming along approvingly left no doubt as to who the “we” in that statement entailed. There really seemed to be no way out.
Chewing and swallowing suddenly felt like a challenging chore, but she kept trying, sipping tea to help her mouth, all dried up from anxiety, get on with the food. She was under no illusion that Roger would tolerate her trying to stall. Eating breakfast in the buff with two fully dressed boys (and classmates at that!) ogling her suddenly didn't seem like such a terrible predicament when she thought ahead.
It was really going to happen, wasn't it? Roger told her as much last night but it just didn't feel real. Even minutes ago, up until she walked started to recover from the humiliation of using a plastic potty in front of the unexpected audience of another male classmate, the walk to the park didn't seem real. It seemed impossible, hard to imagine, fuzzy.
Now, as it got nearer and nearer by the moment, it suddenly felt awfully real, and all-too-easy to see in her mind's eye. In theory, having spent a week naked and repeatedly exposed to Roger should have prepared her, should have made this easier, but that definitely wasn't the case.
In fact, her awareness of how deeply humiliation could cut, how hot it could burn, how it tended to linger only made the situation seem more dreadful. And she knew, too, that Roger meant his threat. If she misbehaved, if she didn't obey, he was going to spank her and otherwise punish her. If she dragged her feet, he was going to double down and make it worse.
It was going to happen and she was utterly helpless in her predicament. Out of control in every imaginable way. It wasn't a dare or a challenge; she couldn't just rush through it and then run back home and cry her eyes out. If this experience made her cry bitter tears of shame, those were going to be on display just like the rest of her. Oh gawd.
Roger made her drink another glass of juice and also a glass of water. It wasn't until after she drank them that Thalia began to realise that when Roger said she was going to have to use the potty, he meant... she was going to have to use it out in the public. In the park. No, he wouldn't!? She gulped, this new jigsaw piece of the anxious anticipation of her humiliation quietly falling into place. She was too tense and too sure, deep down, to even ask if that, indeed, was her fate.
For better or worse, breakfast was over quite soon. On one hand, she wanted to stall, to avoid what lay ahead, on the other hand, the anticipation was killing her, beginning to feel almost more awful than the ordeal itself, or so she thought—oh how wrong she was!
Roger led her upstairs and guided her as she styled her hair. He was being very specific, and utterly non-compromising. She didn't get away with french-braid pigtails, or low braided twintails, no. Roger made her braid her hair into two high, tightly, simply braided pigtails that stuck out of the side of her head in a ridiculously little-girlie fashion, complete with pink scrunchies holding them in place and matching pink hairbands at the ends to stop them from becoming undone. The whole process took quite a while, because of how long Thalia's hair was but in Roger's mind, the effort and time were worth it. The hairdo definitely shaved several years of Thalia's apparent age, just like that!
It was cute, thought Roger. Cute and funny.
It was horrible, thought Thalia. Horrible and embarrassing. Her hair was a source of much pride to her. Even though this was just temporary, she felt like the Biblical Samson; betrayed and stripped of her power. Why was Roger doing this to her? Wasn't she following her daily routine? It seemed so unfair, then again, so was her behaviour for a long time before the diagnosis and the start of her treatment.
All she was given to wear was a pair of pink socks and her sparkly, glittery, unicorn-themed trainers, a relic of a bygone era, much like the leotards she had to model for Roger the other night. Oh what she would give even for one of those right now!
Instead, Roger took her hand and led the way onto the landing, and downstairs and to the front door. Any last hope that this was perhaps all merely an elaborate prank vanished when he opened it and ushered her through.
“Hands on your sides as you walk, and behind your back whenever we stop. When you stand, stand nice and straight, legs a bit apart. If I have to remind you, you'll end up with your legs wide apart and hands on your head,” he warned her. She shivered. The morning air was perhaps a little chilly on her completely naked skin but it was Roger's calm determination that gave her goosebumps.
“Let's go.”
And just like that, they were off. Actually off, outside and heading down the drive, away from the house and into a day of Thalia's “regression therapy”. It was just the three of them, the street was quiet with no one else in sight, but simply the knowledge that she was naked in a public place and not even allowed to cover up, as well as deep, intuitive understanding that this was going to get a whole lot worse before it was over were enough to bring heat and colour to Thalia's cheeks.
And to her horror, they also stirred up a familiar, warm, tingly sensation in the pit of her torso. The familiar feeling that usually had her visibly slick and puffed up down below before long. She could only pray that the mind-shattering orgasm Roger had given her last night actually helped, and that her arousal was going to be a little less obvious today.
// Hairstyle reference: https://bashify.io/i/ARFWGG //
is definitely more than a little sadistic/dominant 
