chapter 9

** Mistress Jade **

“What the hell was that,” Miles whispers as I approach him to collect my clipboard. “Discipline”, I respond, even though I am not entirely sure that is true. “Thank you for your help. As soon as he is able to get up, send him to my office for his therapy session. Do not let him leave or clean up,” I continue, then head there myself before he can ask more questions.

Once the door is closed, I lean back against it and echo Mile’s question. “What the hell was that,” I whisper. The obvious answer is dealing with a little piggy who has gotten off track when it comes to the lessons I am trying to teach here. The less obvious one is that I have clearly taken far too personal an interest in him despite, or because of, the one he has shown in me.

Making my way over to my desk, I sit down and pull out his file, methodically going through it in an attempt to determine which answer is more likely. Has Paul really gotten off track? With the exception of the first two stuffing sessions this week, he’s done everything that has been asked of him regardless of how vulnerable and confused he’s felt about it.

At the same time, however, he has developed an attachment and attraction to me that is detrimental to his progress and eventual placement with a feeder. Instead of associating the inflation, bloating, stuffing, and gaining experiences he has had with sexual arousal and submission in general, he has come to associate both with me.

That is a fact that became blatantly clear after last week’s session when I caught him masturbating within viewing distance of my office window. The location of it and the look on his face when he realized I had caught him gave it away. His inability to engage in, and complete, this week’s stuffing sessions without my presence further confirmed it.

I should have seen what was happening, should have seen it sooner anyway. Campers developing a crush on me is nothing new, it happens all the time. I had brushed off Paul’s response to his interactions and therapy sessions with me as nothing more than that. I was clearly wrong. To make matters worse, I let today’s stuffing session get out of control.

I don’t know what got into me. Scratch that, I know exactly what got into me. It has been far too long since I’ve had a feedee of my own. Since I’ve experienced the complete submission of one at my hands. Since I’ve experienced one losing all willpower and control while stuffing himself for me. The Feeder in me took over and I treated Paul as if he was mine.

That was a mistake on my part, a big one. One that will only feed into his attachment and attraction to me, making it even harder for me to separate them from the rest of his experiences here at camp and beyond it once he leaves. “Is that what you really want though,” I ask myself out loud, quickly followed by, “are you out of your f*cking mind?”

“Of course it is what I want. I have rules, and they exist for a reason. I DO NOT get involved with campers and I DO NOT take on or have feedees while conducting a camp session,” I tell myself. The first is unprofessional, the second is asking for trouble. Not only is it a distraction, but submissives are clingy, not prone to taking their Dominant playing with others well.

“No, I cannot and will not allow anything to happen with Paul,” I say out loud, as if that will somehow solidify my own statement as the final word on the matter. Pushing his file aside, I turn my attention to the notes Miles has made on the clipboard, comparing them to my own from the first two sessions and making the final notations in each campers file.

NOAH: Easily enters a food haze, and clearly enjoys it. Eager and greedy to be stuffed more. Messy eater. Prominent sexual reaction, as usual, but for a reason he is comfortable with this time. Definite match for a feeder that requires stuffing.

JOSHUA: Clear discomfort with both weight gain and the stuffing experience. Too attached to his muscles. Potential match for feeder requiring only inflation or bloating, or one up for a serious challenge.

CHRIS: Spent stuffing sessions with one hand on his belly and one hand on his cock. No shame in his interest or his reaction to it. Definite match for a feeder that requires stuffing, potentially humilation.

PAUL: Despite failure to perform the first two stuffing sessions, was able to complete the final one when presented with the right motivation and opportunity for submission. Definite match for a feeder that requires stuffing.

As I finish that last one, I sit back in my chair and breathe a sigh of relief. Work was just the distraction I needed to put the situation with Paul into perspective. He is no different than any of the other campers. What happened during his stuffing session was, as I told Miles, nothing more than discipline for his performance failures during the first two sessions.

“And that is that,” I tell myself, feeling confident in those words until the door opens and Paul steps inside, a stuffed and vulnerable look, not to mention food, all over his face. Unable to stop myself, I rise from my desk and approach him, grabbing his shirt with my fingers, pulling him in and licking a trail of mashed potatoes and gravy off his neck and face slowly.

Underneath my fingers, I can feel his breath catch and his body freeze. His reaction snaps me out of my lust filled hazed. I push myself back and force my fingers to let go, turning to head back to my desk, only to feel Paul’s hand gripping my arm. I am so out of it that I find myself unable to speak a single word of protest or make a single move to stop him.

Within seconds, he has my back pressed against the door and his food covered lips are all over mine. My fingers grasp at his stomach, attempting to push him away, but instead getting lost in how full he is, how soft and round he has gotten … for me. No, I tell myself, he is nothing more than a camper, he is getting soft and round for someone else, not me …
His tongue pushing against mine, the taste of all the food he’s just eaten, silences my thoughts before they can put a stop to what is happening. Instead of protesting, I find my mind drifting to how easy it would be to push him down on his knees and shove his face between my thighs, to make him squeal while I stuff him with the mess he has caused.

I don’t get the chance though. Once again his body betrays him, his troublesome cock rising to the occasion, hard and demanding, offering just the interruption I need to regain my focus and determination to resist. This time my fingers dig into his stomach, forcing a far different squeal from his lips as I push him back several steps.

“Why …,” he starts out raggedly as he tries to catch his breath, but I raise a finger to his lips, keeping any more words from falling from them. “NO! You will remove your clothes and take your seat, NOW,” I say, the dominance finally returning to my voice and my eyes. Before he can ask any further questions, I turn and make my way to my desk.

Once in my seat, I watch on as he awkwardly scrambles to to remove his clothes. “I don’t have all day little piggy,” I tell him, tapping my pen against the desk out of impatience and frustration at myself and the situation. When he finally settles down into the couch, I begin the process of addressing what just happened and his progress.

I deny him even a single chance to speak the entire time. It is better that way, and the only way I can get through it all without betraying my own rules again. Not to mention the only way I can ignore the way my thighs keep unconsciously squeezing together, desperate to relieve the need and mess that continues to gather there.

“What just happened, will NEVER happen again. You are a camper, here to learn about becoming a feedee and a submissive. I am the leader of this camp, the one responsible for teaching you those things. That is all. There is not, and will never be, anything more to our relationship than that. Is that understood,” I ask, followed by “do not speak, a nod is all that is required.”

When he nods his head with more than a little bit of reluctance and confusion, I press on. “If you ever touch me in that way again, if I ever catch you jerking off outside of my window again, if I ever catch you failing to perform during a session because I am not present, you will be punished appropriately and then you will be sent home. Is that understood.”

Paul once again nods his head, but this time does so with his head hanging down and his eyes focused on his hands which, as usual, are coving his cock. The submissive pose sends yet another jolt of desire through me, but I push it aside and continue, moving on to his current progress at camp.

“You have made it through your third week, barely, and have gained nineteen pounds. You are doing well when it comes to gaining. You should be proud of that progress. As for your performance during sessions, you have clearly gotten off track and distracted. The counselors and I will be doing our best to get you back on track moving forward.”
I should be asking him how he feels things are going, but I let him off the hook instead. He is embarrassed enough as it is. Rising from my seat, I move around to the front of my desk and settle against the edge. “Now that all of that is out of the way, I would like to apologize.”

Paul’s head jerks up in surprise, but I ignore it. “My behavior when you came in was inappropriate and will not happen again. Feeding sessions can be intense, regardless of the relationship between those involved. I let my reaction to it get the better of me. For that, and any other behavior on my part that has led to you becoming distracted, I am sorry.”

Paul opens his mouth for what I am sure will be an argument, but I once again put a finger up to stop him. “Our session is over for this week Paul. You are free to get dressed and return to your cabin.”