chapter 13

** Mistress Jade **

“Apparently I’ve got a bit of masochist in me,” I mumble to Mistress Stephanie when she offers a knowing look as I help unfasten the restraints holding a once again passed out Paul to the cross. I can’t help but smile as she fights to hold in laughter that is surely related to both my predicament and my foolishness at allowing this, whatever it is I’m doing, to continue.

Like last week, I remain until Paul is coherent enough to acknowledge both my presence and the fact that I was not the one conducting the session before excusing myself. This time around though, there are no tears. Whether that is due to successfully separating my obvious feelings for him or the knowledge that he was thinking about me, I don’t know, and I don’t care.

It doesn’t matter. That is what I keep telling myself anyway, over and over again, as I keep a distant but close watch on his progress. His continued efforts to double down at meals is impressive, as is the visible gaining that comes from it. Watching it happen, witnessing the way the changes to his body affect not only his day-to-day movements, but his sessions as well, almost breaks my resolve.

I want nothing more than for it to be my hand instead of his rubbing his belly during and after those big meals, for it to my strikes landing against his body during sessions and causing those mindless grunts of his and his fat to roll in waves upon impact. It’s not though, and it won’t be, both facts that I’m doing my best to accept as the week progresses.

His sessions are a repeat performance of last week. Leaving once the blindfold and headphones are in place during the second one, and before they can be during the third one. Throughout it all, and despite the openly defiant and confident looks from Paul, I manage to maintain a cold and indifferent exterior. At least when I’m not alone anyway.

Once my office or cabin door closes, it’s a different story. Pleasuring myself while reviewing footage from his sessions has become a daily and nightly occurrence, and this time there is no pretense of flipping through the sessions of others. No, my attention is completely on Paul, on his reactions and his body as I bring myself closer to the edge and over it.

I’m in over my head when it comes to him. I can’t keep denying it, it’s as obvious as the forty plus pounds he’s gained. I somehow keep that fact to myself though, at least when it comes to the campers anyway. They continue eating, gaining, and experiencing pleasure, while the counselors and other Feeders give me knowing looks and smiles.

I can’t tell whether they are happy for me or amused at my suffering. Either way, I don’t care. I’m the one in charge of me and this camp, and I will keep both under control for the duration of the campers stay here. “Luckily for me that is only one more week,” I mumble as I move from one station to the next, making my notes as the final group and session wraps up.

KEVIN: Despite being five weeks into camp, still showing signs of confusion and resistance when it comes to his desires and gaining. Able to perform, but does so awkwardly and with embarrassment. Sending home.

PAUL: Ability to let go and keep up with feeding aspect of session growing easier. No hesitation when it comes to the introduction of different methods and tools. Opinion stands, perfect match for a Feeder requiring sexual submission.

THEO: Natural masochist. Intentionally vocal and loud during sessions to bring about desired pain in connection with eating. Perfect match for a sadist Feeder.

JACOB: Progress has been slow, but finally starting to show signs of embracing gaining and letting go sexually during sessions. Not into pain, but definitely into gentle teasing. Will require a softer Feeder.

What follows is an endless parade of campers arriving for their sessions. I do my best to pay attention to them all and to give them the support and guidance they need, pushing aside thoughts and comparisons to Paul whenever they arise. Most are easy to get through, others not so much. Sending campers home so close to the finish line is never easy.

They have all made progress. The have all gained and endured the sessions, regardless of their performance during them. Some just aren’t meant for the Feederism lifestyle. I make sure that they leave my office and camp understanding why and with suggestions of what they can do to pursue the aspects that did appeal to them, if any, alone. It is all that I can do.

I’m ruminating on whether or not that is true, if there was more I could have done, when Paul knocks on my open door. When I look up at him, I can see concern written all over his face. I give him a smile to put him at ease and nod towards the basket, urging him to let it go. He hesitates for moment, but does what is expected of him, like the good little piggy he is.

Watching him undress is exactly what I need to feel better. It is torture of the best kind. The way his shirt is stretched tight around his growing frame. The way it fails to fully cover his big, round, soft belly. The way he has to struggle a bit to get it off. The sight of it all has me squeezing my thighs together underneath my desk in an attempt to stop the obvious arousal growing there.

As his last piece of clothing lands in the basket and he moves to settle in on the couch, I take a moment to get myself under control. Closing my eyes, I take a few deep breaths and focus on doing my job. When I open them, I once again find his eyes on me. This time there isn’t concern in them. No, the look he gives me is a confident and knowing one.

I don’t’ give him the satisfaction of acknowledging that he is right though. Instead I offer up my now all too familiar cold and indifferent façade as I address his progress so far…

“It would appear that all of your doubling down at meals has paid off. You are up forty-two pounds now, fifteen higher than last week. That is your highest weekly gain to date. Not only that, it is the highest weekly gain of all the campers. You should be proud of your progress, I am.”

That last part has him wiggling in his seat and his cock twitching. Not only that, it has him looking at me with eager eyes. Eager for what though, I ponder as I rise from my chair and make my way over, once again sitting on the coffee table in front of him and pushing his legs apart to accommodate mine. “Are you proud of your progress Paul,” I ask.

“Yes Mistress Jade,” he stutters out as his hands move to cover his growing erection. “Did I say you could touch yourself little piggy,” I ask in a cold harsh tone that makes fear flash across his eyes for a second. Then, before that fear has the chance to tell his brain to remove his hands, it is quickly replaced with the same eager look from before.

“What is it Paul … do you not want me to see the way that your gaining arouses you, or do you think that your gaining has earned you a reward …” I ask, allowing my hands to rub up and down his thick thighs, his cock growing even harder as my fingers dig in just a little. “I think I’ve earned a reward Mistress Jade, I’ve been a good little piggy,” he stutters out breathily.

“That you have Paul, that you have,” I say with a smile. It takes me only a moment to ponder the appropriate reward, one that will allow me to maintain the control and separation of feelings that I’ve worked so hard on. “Alright little piggy, you have earned the right to touch yourself, but only if you do what I tell you to do, is that clear,” I offer.

“Yes Mistress Jade,” he replies, this time with more confidence. Watching as he sits up straight, feeling his legs eagerly bouncing underneath my fingertips, has me laughing a little and my thoughts racing with ideas for how to tease, torture, and please him. He’s more than earned it after all, and I want to make sure he enjoys every second of it.

“Wrap your fingers around your cock little piggy, stroke it for me nice and slow, tip to bottom,” I instruct, my fingers digging into his thighs harder and the rest of me leaning in towards him unconsciously as I watch him obey. “Good boy Paul, now take your other hand and rub your big soft belly, keep the same pace with both,” I urge, moving my eyes to his.

He obeys every instruction given without fail, our eyes remaining locked on each others. I could tell him to focus on what he’s doing, but I don’t. The thought of him watching me is turning me on, making me wet enough to squeeze and rub my thighs together in an attempt to find some semblance of relief, something to tide me over until I’m alone again.

We are both so focused on each other, that we fail to notice the fact that I have leaned in even closer, that his cock has begun rubbing and bouncing against my tits. His cock knows though, and it sends feelings of pleasure straight to both of his heads, causing him to grunt out. I reward him each time in the manner he’s used to, sharp swats to his belly, thighs, and ass with my hand.

The pain and pleasure of my swats and instructions urging him to rub both his belly and cock faster and harder is pushing him closer and closer to the edge. I can see it in his breathing, in the pitch of his grunts, in the way his thighs are beginning to shake under my fingertips. I force him to hold on a few minutes longer, until I see his eyes begging for release. Then I give it to him …

“Cum for me Paul,” I order forcefully. Before his name can even fall from my lips, hot sticky cum shoots out of his cock and lands all over my tits and the front of my shirt. For a second the sight of it has him shooting out even more, but then the realization of what he has done hits his brain and he freezes in place, mouth open, and eyes wide.

“That will be all for your session today Paul, you may get dressed and go,” I say, rising from my seat in front of him and returning to my desk.