Kelsie the Puke Slave

Kelsi greeted me at the door in her bra and panties, like she usually did. She never wore pajamas when she went to bed, so she often spent her nights in only her underwear. Her long blonde hair was brushing against the small of her back. I could tell she had already eaten dinner, since her usually tight, flat stomach was swollen and bulging out. She was such a tiny, slim girl, even the smallest amount of food inside her showed a lot. And by the looks of things tonight, she had more than a small amount of food in her stretched out belly.

“Did you make dinner?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “A whole pan of lasagna, and a green salad.” She gestured to the table, where half the pan of lasagna was still sitting. “I left yours out, since I wasn’t sure what time you would be home.”

“You already ate?” I asked. “Kelsie, you know that you’re not supposed to eat dinner without me.”

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t think you would be home tonight,” she said.

“Well I am. And now I want to eat dinner with you,” I said. “Go get a mixing bowl out of the cabinet, and sit down at the table.”

“Alright,” she said shyly. She came back to the table with a large, glass mixing bowl and set it down.

“You’re supposed to eat dinner with me and you didn’t,” I said, looking over the table. “Now Kelsie, you know when you do things wrong, you have to undo them, and do them again the right way.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, her wide blue eyes staring out at me in confusion.

“Well, you need to eat your dinner again with me… but it’s already inside you, so we have to do something about that, don’t we?”

“I- I guess…” She stammered, still not knowing what I was getting at.

“I know this is unpleasant,” I said. “But you know you weren’t supposed to eat before I got home, and you need to eat dinner again properly. So I need you to throw up you dinner into this bowl, and then when I sit down with you, you can eat it again with me. Like you’re supposed to.”

“Th… throw up?” Kelsie asked. “But I’ve never made myself throw up before.” She looked terrified of throwing up, but even more terrified of disappointing me. “I don’t bahis firmaları think I can.” She whimpered.

I had made her vomit before as a punishment. It usually consisted of drinking water until her stomach was full and it started coming back up on its own. This was only a little different.

“I’m sure you can do it, Kelsie,” I said. “I’m going to wash up and I want you to practice putting your fingers down your throat, and see if you can get started.”

“O…okay,” she stammered.

I went over to the kitchen sink and started washing my hands. I looked back and watched as Kelsie leaned over the large glass bowl and slid two fingers into her mouth. She coughed and sputtered and took them out.

“You have to keep trying. Nothing will happen if you take them out too soon.” I walked over to the table and stood in front of her. “Hurry up. I want to get this over with so we can eat.”

She gagged herself again, then coughed and looked up at me. “It’s not coming out,” she whispered.

“Put your fingers down your throat, and this time you’d better not take them out until they are covered in puke.” I said, becoming annoyed with the time she was wasting.

She leaned over the bowl again and stuck her fingers back down.

“Keep them there,” I commanded.

She whimpered, then began flinching and heaving. In a moment, she was letting out deep grunts and gurgles. Finally I heard a wet heave, and saw chunks and liquid flow out of her mouth, past her perfect red lips and into the bowl.

“Good girl,” I said. “See? This is what happens when you eat dinner without me. You better not forget again. Keep going.”

She obediently stuck her fingers back down, and I could see her throat constricting and retching again. With almost her whole hand in her mouth, she leaned over the bowl and went, “Aaaaack, aaaaack, aaaaaack,” coughing violently and trying to expel her fingers. She ended with a deep “Ruuuuuuuup,” as she puked up another thick gush of her partially digested dinner. She was filling the bowl fairly quickly.

This time she remained leaned over and expelled a deep, loud belch, which made her sick again. At the kaçak iddaa end of the belch, she was accidentally expelling another gush of thick puke instead of air. She had clearly over eaten since the contents of her stomach kept coming up on their own, once she had gotten things started. Without using her fingers, she gagged and gushed up another wave into the bowl. She had a moment for a breath, then another gag came and she heaved up more of her sick. I watched as her swollen belly slow deflated as she spewed its contents into the glass bowl.

“Can I have a napkin?” She asked.

I handed her a paper towel and she blotted offer mouth before the next wave came. She had a moment to catch her breath. She panted heavily, her tight tan body glistening with sweat and her long blonde hair sticking to her back.

Out of nowhere, she heaved again, and with a sudden, “Bleerrrrrrrrrrrrrp” opened her mouth over the bowl, and let a steady flow of puke pour out of her as tears streamed down her face. She panted again and caught her breath.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I’ll never eat without you again.”

She wiped her mouth and then began working to get the last of it up, resorting to her fingers once again. She gagged and puked up small mouthfuls of chunky vomit, spitting them into the full bowl before her. As she began regurgitating wilted greens, I knew she was puking up the salad she had eaten before dinner.

When she was done, I brought her a spoon. “Now you need to eat your entire dinner again with me. If you can’t keep it down, you can puke it up again later, but you need to at least try to eat that entire bowl.”

She began weakly spooning vomit into her mouth, and shuddering as she swallowed each spoonful.

“When I’m done with this, I’m going to puke it up all over myself,” she whimpered.

“That’s fine, as long as you get through dinner.” I said firmly. “But anything you puke up before that, you’ll have to eat again.”

I sat and ate my own dinner slowly, as I watched Kelsie struggle to swallow spoonful after spoonful of her own puke. Her beautiful lips trembled, and more than once she couldn’t keep the contents down, kaçak bahis and she vomited them up into her mouth. But she always managed to gulp them back down. Her stomach slowly filled up again, returning to its bulging state as she consumed more and more of the dinner she had already eaten once.

Finally she was down to one last mouthful. Her eyes watered, and trickles of tears streamed down her face.

“I can’t down it,” she said, holding the last spoonful to her mouth. “I really can’t do it. If I put it in my mouth, I’m going to throw it all up and have to start over.”

“Come on Kelsie. This is what you have to do,” I said.

She opened her mouth hesitantly but began gagging before she could get the spoon in. She waited for a moment, then leaned over and let out a loud, disgusting heave. I could hear liquid gurgling up into her throat, trying to escape. She tried once more to put the spoon to her lips, but retched violently.

“Rrrruuuuuuuup,” she gagged. Then, in a brave moment, she forced the spoon into her mouth, and swallowed down the last scoop of puke. She pressed her mouth closed with her hand, as if keeping her lips closed would keep everything inside.

“Good job,” I said.

She was already convulsing, and heaving, trying to be sick. Not surprising after being forced to eat a bowl of vomit.

“Let it up,” I said.

As if on command, she removed her hand, opened her lips, and erupted with a violent gush of puke. The thick liquid spewed out of her stomach with such force, the stream seemed to continue forever. She let it run down her mouth, chin, and chest, covering herself in her own vomit.

She stopped for a moment, gasped for breath, then continued puking her dinner up all over herself. It flowed over her tight, bare stomach, and dripped between her perky round breasts. She was a filthy mess, absolutely drenched in her thick, regurgitated meal. It splattered onto her bare legs and onto the chair. Finally, she barfed up one more gush, this last wave landing on her knees and on the floor.

She sat trembling and dry heaving.

“Did you like that Kelsie? Did you like puking all over yourself? That’s what happens if you eat dinner before I get home. I’m sure you wont forget again, will you?”

“It was so awful,” she whimpered. “I won’t forget again, ever. I’ll always remember this. I’ve never puked so much in my life.”