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Story: Thousand flavors of ice cream

Posted 08-23-2016 at 12:19 PM by CSasha
Updated 09-22-2016 at 03:27 PM by CSasha

It was a hot, dry summer. This afternoon the sun was still shining down like an oven. I was on the canopy swing in the garden. My little friend Tommy, a couple of years younger than me, lay in the grass watching a bee on a flower. He had a silent, shy and most of all calm character. I didn't like noisy nor needy friends like most of them were in my age. In contrast Tommy had only been loud when his needs of safety and comfort were threatened or plainly when he cried. But I had fixed even that, taught him to obey my commands and follow my rules, one of them being holding back any stubborn opposition to me, the other one never making any fuzz.

Instead now Tommy was only getting a frowning face, sometimes tears flowing down his sweet cheeks, his breath getting erratic. It hadn't been that difficult, using the reputation and resources I had due to my parents social status. Everybody knew better than to mess with me and risk getting trouble from my parents. But most of the time I just got whatever I wanted, including my little toy Tommy. It had only taking him a hand full of bad experiences with me until he had finally learned to follow my orders and not revolt.

Tommy looked just that sweet in front of me, dreaming away the day while watching nature. But I was bored and tempted to ruin that adorable face, when I just heard the bell of the ice cream wagon ringing. "Hey Tommy, I'd like to have an ice cream. What about you?" He looked up to me and nodded silently. Good boy. He knew what I liked.

Since I had money and my little friend didn't, he could only rely on my generosity. Actually he had been quite modest and frugal, not even longing for all the little things he couldn't have, satisfied with the simple pleasures. But I had already turned that around by giving him just enough to desire more. And I wasn't planning on lowering that level of temptation. It made it much easier for me to keep him under control and participate in my games, especially against his personal preferences.

So we went to towards the occasional sound of the ringing bell. Tommy hopped circles around me, full of glee and anticipation. When we arrived the wagon, he stood still, tense like right before a jump. He knew I was the one buying the ice cream, and I made the choice of flavor to give him. Though Tommy preferred a mix of chocolate and vanilla, he had tried each other flavor at least one. By now I knew which he didn't like, and knew I could easily make him eat it up anyway, even extending the taste of it. But when I saw the friendly smile of the ice cream salesman in his wagon, I had another idea. This was one of the guys who were passion for their job, enjoying to provide such a simple pleasure to innocent, friendly people. Sugar and fat to the beautiful life.

"Hold you hands up, Tommy. Open the palms. Upwards. Good boy.", I commanded him. The salesman showed the start of a confused face. I put 10 bucks on his counter and ordered one cone with chocolate, and one with vanilla. When he looked puzzled, I told him my family and gave him that look not to mess with me. Not even slightly. His mimic wrinkled, but he just nodded, still paying distant attention to what I did. He wouldn't interfere at all. Just watch. He as our audience gave me a little kick to my game. I kept him in the corner of my eyes.

I looked over the offered flavors and made my choice for the next cones. Lemon. Tommy didn't like it at all. And ... chocolate mousse. One he liked. While the salesman prepared them, I took chocolate and vanilla and put one in each of his palms, ice cream down on his skin. I looked straight in his face while I did it. Fortunately for Tommy he showed how well I had trained him. I saw the cold sensation around his wrinkles, the fear of what I just had started while he didn't know the rest of it, the embarrassment to be treated this way in front of others, and not resisting or running away. My little bitch, for me to torment. He was right. I wasn't done yet.

I took the lemon cone, turned it downwards, pulled his waistband open in the front and stuck it right into Tommy's crotch. This time he had a harder time keeping his face and voice silent, not completely succeeding. He didn't knew, but I actually enjoyed this partly suppressed sighing and moaning of his. So sweet, the feedback of my actions, cruelty, and sometimes mercy. But not yet. I took the chocolate mousse and stuck it into the back of his trousers, around the place where he would shit himself. Tommy was standing still, enduring my treatment, suffering, right as I expected him to do. "You are making me quite happy, Tommy. It's my ice cream, and I do with it what I want to. You wanted to have it, remember? And how understandable on such a hot day."

The look on the salesman was a blast for me, when I turned around to order one more cone of chocolate and a cone of strawberry ice cream. The man was a small step away from saying something, probably pointing out how nasty I just was to my little friend. But when I looked at him with my sadistic glee, he remembered about the futility of these ambitions. He made the ice cream cones and kept watching. I stuck the chocolate one into the back of Tommy's pants again. The strawberry cone became a little pointy hat on his top. I noticed a slight shiver in his body, while the ice cream visibly melted at their places.

Finally I ordered dark chocolate with chili for myself, and a chocolate vanilla cone for Tommy. "That is all. Thank you, Mister Ice cream Salesman." As Tommy's hands were already filled, I fed him his ice cream, occasionally smearing some on his nose and around his mouth. Once he had finished at the pace I enforced, I circled around him and enjoyed the look. "Tstststs. Look how messy you are, Tommy. Seems you don't have the best manners when eating ice cream. Let's go home, before more people see you this way."

It was a long walk home, pleasant for me. We encountered some more people who dared a walk in the sun and didn't know what had happened. Some of them whispered, pointed at his messed trousers, some laughed, while Tommy's head looked down on the ground and went red in shame. I took him to my home, where I personally cleaned him up in the shower, like my favorite doll or dog. He was sticky all over the places. I put a towel around his waist, so he could walk around in our house. Finally I made him a generous ice cream cup from the fridge. Just enough chocolate and vanilla for his happiness, including a hazelnut sauce, whipping cream and waffles.


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