[This story of how I proceeded in a short-term program to improve my toilet habits and behavior contains frank discussion of bodily functions. If you find this offensive, please read no further. All characters are over 18.]
Although I am mostly dominant, I do have a submissive part of me that occasionally craves to be taken in hand by a young, severe, attractive female domme. I first met Natalie online and after she began dominating me long distance, she suggested that in view of the spread between our ages—she being 25 and I am 43—that I submit to a toilet improvement program. This would be a short-term exercise during which I would keep track in writing of my use of the toilet and then report on this to her.
My submitting to her in this way, of course, would be both embarrassing and humiliating, as I would be reporting on my most personal bodily functions. It also would subject me to being graded by her on these intimate matters. This aspect of the program held great attraction for me because I have long found myself recalling my school days, when I encountered several young, strict female teachers.
My memories focused on my last year of high school, when as seniors who were already 18, we were full of ourselves, thinking we had all the answers and had little respect for these young teachers who were only a few years older than we were. We already thought we were a special breed because school regs required that only 18-year-olds could be seniors, owing to the interscholastic athletic rules that made attaining that age a requirement to participate in state sports competitions.
Most of us had become 18 by the time we started senior year anyway, because the system had a policy of holding back pupils all the way back when they started school until they had reached an age that would ensure that they were 18 by their last year of high school.
The young, strict female teachers—often still in their early or mid-20's—did not hesitate to award failing grades in Conduct for often minor misbehavior. I realize now that this was their way, too, of getting back at us for the mild disdain in which we held them by taking us down a peg. After all, we were high school seniors, now having come of age at 18, which was the legal drinking age then. We would go to good colleges, have great careers, and never have to put up with being underpaid high school teachers.
Teachers were not permitted by then to impose any physical punishment such as spanking or caning. Instead, however, they did grade us in Conduct each marking period and the grade was entered on our report cards. Any bad grade in Conduct, and especially a failing grade, would likely result in physical discipline when our parents learned of the grade in their review of our report cards.
In some ways, this was the worst part of a young female teacher exercising her control by awarding a failing grade in Conduct to a senior pupil. Not only did parents not rush to school to complain about grades the way helicopter parents do today, but our parents automatically concluded that the teachers were doing what was needed to keep us under some kind of control. It was especially embarrassing to come home with a report card featuring a failing grade in Conduct because I could explain a bad grade in English or math by pointing to an unusually hard test. That failure in Conduct, however, made me feel like a naughty child and was shameful, not a show of righteous rebellion.
Some of these teachers would take off points for separate infractions such as talking to a friend during class or not paying attention. Any major offense, such as rudeness to a teacher or physical contact with a student or teacher, might result in immediate notation in the teacher's grade book.
Part of the fear that this caused us was not knowing until we received our report cards whether the teacher had failed us in Conduct. So, it was especially ill-advised to misbehave during the day when teachers had given us a writing or other assignment while they marked our report cards. This also might include the offense of talking during study hall.
One young, very strict female teacher made an indelible impression on me when she was presiding over study hall. During each class that day, the teachers would take most of the class to mark our report cards. Talking was forbidden in study hall, and Miss Heath did not tolerate any violation of this rule.
She wore conservative dark suits and crisp white blouses that almost diminished her very attractive auburn hair and figure by making her seem older than her 24 years. She rarely smiled, however, except that when she caught a student misbehaving, one might discern a look of disgust combined with one that seemed pleased to have had a chance to mark down another pupil.
A girl in our class, Valerie, with whom I was not at all close—we hardly knew one another—made the mistake of dropping her writing pad and then when she reached down into the aisle to retrieve it, made some quiet remark to her friend at the adjacent chair-desk. Miss Heath saw her speak and instantly called her up to the teacher's desk. I could see her pursed lips as she awaited the arrival of the unfortunate Valerie.
"You know the rule against talking in study hall," Miss Heath intoned with gravity. Valerie seemed so frightened that she could only barely respond that she had dropped her writing pad and was just picking it up.
"But you decided to speak to Katie," Miss Heath rejoined, sealing the case.
"I'm so sorry, Miss," Valerie said in a totally frightened tone, for she knew what was likely to follow. "I guess I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry, please don't fail me."
Miss Heath took a moment to imply that she was considering the abject appeal, but it was clear Valerie would not be let off.
"You know the rule," Miss Heath repeated, "so I'm going to take out your report card and give you the mark you deserve. Next time you will not be so quick to disobey our rules."
With that, she sent Valerie back to her seat, totally distraught, crushed, and almost in tears. She had already assumed that Miss Heath was going to fail her; now she would be hung up until she received her report card at the end of the week. She would constantly be wondering whether the teacher would award a 60, which was a standard failing grade—you needed 65 to pass. But teachers like Miss Heath had been known to give 50 or even less, and on one occasion when a pupil had been blatantly disobedient and threatened her, Miss Heath gave her a zero.
Valerie assumed that she would be failed with a 60, which was awful, but which would not totally wreck her grade average. Once Valerie had returned to her seat, Miss Heath found Valerie's report card and in the place for her Conduct grade that marking period, she entered in her tight, tiny handwriting the grade of 63 in blue-black ink with her fountain pen. This was only two points below the passing grade but still counted as a failure. Then, as was the practice to increase the impact of the failing grade, she took out her red pen and circled the grade on the report card in red ink.
No one's parents could possibly not notice this failing grade. If they didn't, Miss Heath wrote a comment to explain the grade: "Valerie has had her grade reduced because of her violation of the rule against conversing with other pupils during class." I already imagined, as I'm certain Valerie was as well, Valerie's mother lowering Valerie's panties when her mother saw the report card and taking Valerie over her lap for a solid spanking on her bare bottom.
My young domme, who wanted to be called Miss Natalie, reminded me of Miss Heath. Since I also have always been focused on my use of the toilet, her deciding that I needed a toilet monitoring and improvement program immediately excited me. I knew when I saw her suggest it in writing that I had already gotten my panties wet, and not with pee.
So what follows is the log I kept of my toilet use for several days when I was following the program and reporting to Miss Natalie. I have omitted the many entries for my use of the toilet to pee, because these were mostly repetitive, although some reference is made to them in my report extensions and Miss Natalie's comments.
I quickly found Miss Natalie's comments exciting. She was very strict in her grading and it wasn't long until I received a failing grade. She wanted to arrange for an older woman to whom I occasionally reported for disciplining to impose punishment to be determined by Miss Natalie. This did not pan out, because my woman friend who disciplined me did not take well to accepting orders from a young domme with whom all contact was online.
Those of you who do not take the time to wipe yourself properly after you pee or shit, and especially if you permit your panties or undershorts to be stained in any way, may either be pleased that they are not subjected to this regimen or, alternatively, might desire to place themselves under Miss Natalie's supervision of their most private functions.
I did congratulate myself that this toilet log was not being maintained when I had my period. I do think that the vaginal discharge I reported one day may have been caused by ovulation, but fortunately, I had no occasion to worry about leaky tampons or, worse yet, to be ordered by Miss Natalie to use bulky pads that I had managed to avoid for many years.
TOILET USE RECORD
Tues., Apr. 28—Thurs., Apr. 30, extended through May 5, 2020
