“Who smells?” He demanded.“Me,” I gasped.His fist collided firmly with the s

“Who smells?” He demanded.“Me,” I gasped.His fist collided firmly with the side of my stomach, “Who smells?” He shook my throat.“Me!” I insisted, “I smell!”“You smell like shit,” He hit me again, “but not even my shit smells. Nothing about me smells, does it?” He shook my throat so my head swung side to side.“That’s right. You don’t…” I coughed, “I’m sorry…please…”“If anyone around here smells like they shit their pants it’s you,” He jolted his fist forward, but didn’t connect.Like a total wimp my entire body still jumped, and I even felt a small squirt of piss fire out into my underpants. “I smell like shit,” I rapidly assured him, “please, that fart must have been me. It was only a joke, I’m sorry.”“Damn right you’re sorry,” He squeezed my throat, “and you’re going to make it up to me.”“Yes!” I tried to nod, “Anything you want I’ll do it. Please, I’m sorry!”“I want you to piss your pants,” He sounded serious.He squeezed and released my throat, forcing me to gasp, “Please…”“I want you to piss your pants in front of everyone like a total wimp. Those guys are going to see that, when it comes to opinions on who shit their pants, you have zero integrity. You will restore my reputation with those guys at the expense of your own, do you hear me?”“Yes, I hear you!” I tapped his shoulder to show him my submission, “I hear you! I’ll do whatever you say.”“Good,” He eased up on my throat, even giving it a massage, “one more thing. Later tonight you will kiss my bare ass. You will comment, believably, that it smells good. You will erase all doubt about who stinks. Now tell me one more time,” His voice was soft and self-assured, “who stinks?”“Me,” I sniffled, “I’m the one that stinks.” -- source link

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