Hello, my name is Carole and I am an idiot.
I wasn't always an idiot. I grew up in a suburban neighborhood with lots of kids my age. We did all the typical kid events; birthday parties, sleepovers, soccer, and all that stuff.
As much as I liked playing with my friends, I also enjoyed time alone where I could play with my imaginary friend whom I had named Joe Parrot. Joe did whatever I wanted him to do and for that reason, we never got into fights. He was the perfect friend.
Looking back, I can see that my parents were good about Joe Parrot's presence in my life. They never discouraged me from having an imaginary friend but at the same time, they didn't fuel my desire to be with him. They just waited, knowing that kids grow out of these things.
And I did, at some point, leave him behind. To be honest I don't remember losing Joe Parrot. I never mourned his death or got into a big fight where he stomped off to oblivion. One day he just left.
Fast forward through high school and college. I was living alone in an apartment on the 14th floor of a city that I won't name here. I had moved to the city to take on my first job only months before and knew very few people. My only friends were work acquaintances all of whom lived elsewhere in the city or the local suburbs.
I was, and still am, a closet submissive punishment freak. I have been that way ever since those hormones kicked in that turned me into a sexual being. My fantasies usually are about me being humiliated and/or punished in some creative manner.
Looking back, living by myself was not a great idea. I should have looked for a place with a roommate but my job afforded me to live alone so I thought that would be best. Once I was settled in my apartment, boredom set in big time as did my fantasies. It was then that Joe Parrot returned to my life.
I talked with Joe Parrot often during those lonely days and nights. I rationalized that, like me, he had changed since we were kids. He was no longer willing to do whatever I wanted. It was the opposite. Joe Parrot was here to control me
Joe Parrot told me that if I didn't take care of my home I would be punished. A dish left in the sink on a Friday night would result in a self-spanking on Saturday morning followed by thirty minutes of corner time with my pants and undies around my ankles and my hands clasped behind my head. Joe Parrot didn't care if the blinds were left open allowing people in the next building the opportunity to witness my punishments.
Joe Parrot was mostly around on the weekends and would often wake me in the morning to admonish me for some misdeeds done during the week.
Below are two accounts of incidents where Joe Parrot chose to punish me
PUNISHMENT 1. THE BUS RIDE
"Carole," he said one Saturday just as I was waking all warm and cuddly under my covers. "Don't you think that making fun of your coworker's outfit yesterday was mean-spirited?"
The previous day a girl on my team had worn a pair of pants that were way too tight along with a top that showed off her rather fat breasts. I commented to another coworker that she looked like she was going to explode out of her clothes. I even made a comment suggesting that people around her could be wounded when her buttons flew off at high speeds.
"Yes sir. It wasn't appropriate to talk about her like that," I responded internally. I found that I always called Joe Parrot sir these days.
"How would you feel if someone was talking about you like that?" he asked.
"My body could handle those clothes," I replied defensively.
"That's not what I asked you."
I knew it wasn't what he was asking and I knew that I was wrong joking about the girl. "I would be hurt," I replied contritely.
"Good," my imaginary friend replied. "You should have felt that way and today you are going to get a dose of humiliation to remind you not to make fun of others."
Since Joe Parrot was actually in my head, I knew what he was going to say next. Still, I was shocked by his next command.
"As punishment for your poor choices yesterday you are going on a bus trip today..."
"No, Please!"
"No arguing Carole. Today you will ride the bus downtown wearing tight jeans and your wide arm loose fit tank top. You will wear nothing under your top."
I felt a sudden rush of humiliation along with a warmth between my legs that required my fingers to reach under the covers to feel the dampness that was suddenly gathering inside me.
"No, Carole," Joe Parrot said sharply. "Up and out of bed NOW!"
Whenever Joe Parrot yelled I moved quickly. I shed my covers and jumped from the bed ready to follow whatever instruction was to come next.
"Off with your nightshirt you little slut."
I pulled my oversized tee shirt over my head leaving me stark naked. I saw myself in the full-length mirror across the room and even though I was alone, I felt ashamed.
"To your closet," he commanded.
I moved to my closet in a robot-like fashion and started to open a drawer to pull out some undies. I was stopped as I touched the handle.
"No underwear today, Carole."
Dejected, I turned away from the drawer and went for my tightest pair of jeans. Wiggling my naked ass, I slid them on and felt the rough pants tight against my throbbing pussy.
"Now the top, Carole. You know which one."
I did know which top I needed to wear. It was a shirt that I wore often to the gym over a sports bra. I dug it out of a drawer and pulled it over my head letting it fall loosely around me.
I've always liked my breasts. Some women have gigantic boobs that guys can't help but notice. I'm not that girl. I'm fairly small but not flat-chested and can get away braless when I want to without my little ladies drooping down in front.
Today though I wasn't sure how much I would like my breasts. It might be better to be flat-chested.
I went to my mirror and stared at myself. I first noticed the hint of camel toe between my legs. It wasn't too bad but I knew it could get worse if I swelled even a little bit. I was also keenly aware that if dampness started between my legs, it might show through my jeans, leaving me in a most embarrassing situation.
And then I looked up at my top and started to panic. Turning sideways I had a clear view of side boob. Lots of side boob. Too much side boob! The front was almost as bad. The low-cut neck and the loose fabric would tell everyone that I was naked under the shirt. I leaned forward just a bit and there they were. Nipples! I quickly stood tall. Good posture would be my friend today.
I started to take off my slutty outfit, wanting to get back into bed where I could masturbate myself to an especially exquisite orgasm but Joe Parrot had other plans for me.
"No Carole," he said firmly. "Out the door - NOW."
I turned and headed toward the door. I looked at the hall closet as I walked by wanting to grab a sweater or a coat but I knew I would be rebuked for it. Instead, I grabbed my wallet, pulled out my bus pass and ID, and squeezed them into the pocket of my too-tight jeans.
I didn't hear Joe Parrot as I walked toward the bus. I just kept saying to myself, "Head up, shoulders back, good posture." Normally I don't look at people as I walk the streets. Today I made an extra effort to keep my eyes focused and straight ahead. If anyone was giving me strange looks I didn't want to know about it.
As I rounded the corner and came to the bus stop. I saw a group of boys, all much younger than me coming my way. I could see their eyes light up as the group walked by and heard raucous laughter as they passed. Words like tits, cunt, and ass floated behind them informing others to look my way.
I dared to look down at myself as I stood at the bus stop my hardened nipples were poking through the thin fabric of my shirt and my boobs were almost completely visible through the wide arm openings. I immediately brought my arms up and crossed them over my chest.
"Arms down," came a voice from inside my head. Joe Parrot was back.
"No!" I said silently. "I can't do it."
"Well then, what are you going to do about your pants," he asked.