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The trip home.

She came so hard she saw stars, and then crawled back into bed, leaving her wet knickers in the drawer, and drying off her little damp pussy against the sheets.

Perhaps that was what he had meant? He had been very cross. She felt her tummy go hot and fizzy at the memory of it.

He went on: 'the only way to teach you a lesson is by regulating where you pee.'

No. She thought. Not toilets. Not boring, impersonal bathrooms? She wouldn't do it.

He must have seen her crestfallen expression, because he bent toward her, lifting her chin up with his finger.

'Now, Bethie, when would I ever do anything horrid to you? This is a nice thing!'

Then, from behind his back, he pulled out a little sparkly... necklace? No, it wasn't. It was soft and round and...

It was a kitty collar.

She smiled up at him. He was going to...? No, she couldn't work it out.

'See, Bethie? You're going to be my little kitty, if you want to be. And you know where little kitties do their naughty business, don't you?'

She shook her head. She had no idea - outside? No, he surely wasn't going to make her go outside every single time... she had to go pee so often!

'Well, sweetheart, they do their naughty business in.... let me show you.'

He took her by the hand and made her crawl down the hallway, into the living room. The crawling made her bladder wobble, made her whimper in desperation, but he didn't acknowledge it. Instead, he pushed open the living room door and showed her...

It was a kitty litter box. A blue, shallow box, large enough for her to go on all fours, filled up with grey cat litter. Beside it, stacked up, were four or five others - enough, she worked out, for nearly every room in the house.

'Oh, Ian', she breathed. They were so perfect. Naughty, and public, and humiliating, but just for her, and provided with love, and the perfect answer to her need to let herself go wherever she was.

'I love you so, so much'. She felt totally overwhelmed, as if she was about to cry - as if she was about to wet herself.

He came toward her and she pressed up against him. From her kneeling position her head was level with his cock. When she rubbed her face against him, too overwhelmed to speak, she realized; he was rock hard, throbbing in his pants.

He held the back of her head, letting little wet tears prick through the material of his trousers so that he could feel the salty wetness against the tip of his cock. With his other hand, he gentle moved her long red hair so he could slip the collar round her neck, adjusting it loosely into place. He stepped back to get a look at her.

Beth looked exquisite: tear-stained but smiling, naughty but vulnerable looking, totally overwhelmed by his gift. She was also... squirming?

'Beth, baby, does someone need to use their new little litter tray?'

She paused, as if thinking about it, bunching her dress in her hands. Then she looked at him, and nodded.

'I want to go pee-pee', she said.

He smiled. He was used to it, the way big-girl language often seemed to leave her when she was desperate.

'Would you like to use your new pee-pee place?'

She smiled and nodded, her cheeks pinking in embarrassment. He felt his cock twitch. He couldn't wait to see her kneel over it, make the litter wet and filthy with her piss.

She pulled her dress up and crawled toward the litter tray. He was expecting her to crawl onto it, to kneel on all fours and pull down her knickers, but she didn't. Instead, she kept her pink lacy knickers on, and plonked her bottom down in the middle of the tray, splaying her legs out in a 'v', bunching her dress up out of the way.

She was facing him, eyes big and wide, showing him her pink pussy beneath the lacy knickers.

'I'm going to go wee-wee', she breathed. 'I'm going to wet myself like a little kitty, and make a big sticky puddle.'

He was palming his cock through his jeans, desperate to take it out and stroke himself, but knowing he wanted to wait until he could sink it into her.

'Do

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