The Family Feud III

Chapter One
“Family Circus”

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 21
JAMIE: 21

The story is not about being perfect people. It is about imperfect people.

Perfect people would have never tied up their husband and son, wife or daughter in the first place.

This story is a journey. Along the way, mistakes will be made. Mistakes are not the end of the journey.

Mistakes are nature’s way of providing you consequences, so that you will learn to adapt. This story is an evolution.

An evolution of an imperfect family of four people, who don't yet know how perfectly imperfect they are.

Welcome Back!

If you haven’t read Family Feud I and II, it is highly recommended. A quick synopsis of what has happened so far and then we dive into the thick of things:

**Warning*** The synopsis could contain spoilers, so if you’ve an interest in a compelling story, you may want to skip down to” Back at the County Fair Grounds” below.

Family Feud I: 
We are introduced to the Taylor Family, typical mid-American nuclear family living in suburbia.

Bill the husband, a former high school athlete in his early 40s. He hasn’t been employed for a while, let himself go a little, and had a strong porn/internet addiction.

Wendy, his wife, blossomed after she attended college, built a dynamic career as an executive, has an interest in Pilates and aerobics and chicken soup for the soul books. She considers herself the glue that holds the family together.

Chris, the eldest son, is a slacker’s slacker. Lazy, out of shape, geeky, loves to sleep in, and half-asses just about everything he can, shirking responsibility whenever it is offered him. His ‘five year’ plan in high school is to stretch it out to the 6th year.

Jamie, is more like her mother, a high school honor student, captain on the cheerleading team, strawberry blonde long hair, with a very positive although perhaps naïve outlook on life.

In the first story, Wendy enlists the aid of her daughter to help motivate her lazy and irresponsible husband and son to take better care of themselves, take a leadership role in the household again and be ‘better’ men, is all she is asking. At first, it is a somewhat playful attempt at serving the men notice that the Taylor women are done picking up after them, and coddling them. The women write their version of a “Declaration of Independence” spelling out their grievances and what has to change.

One thing leads to another, and perhaps drunk on power, things just start to get ‘weird’. The Taylor women find themselves cuckolding the Taylor men. Like something out of the movie “9 to 5” when the secretaries tie up their boss and realize they’ve probably gone too far, it’s just a little too late to turn back. The men surrender their clothes and are under a tight supervision to clean up, get in shape and not watch porn.

I will not ruin the ending for you, because I would like you to give this story a read if you haven’t. Suffice to say, that events come to a head at a party that Jamie was holding, and the Taylor women get their comeuppance, leaving the Taylor men with the upper hand.

Family Feud II: 
Spanning thirty chapters, this is the longest story I’ve ever written and completed as an author and I really enjoyed writing it. This one picks up right where FFI left off. In fact, the chapter you are reading is technically just “Chapter 31” of Family Feud.

The second story begins less than a week before the events of Family Feud III. The Taylor women realize they’ve wronged the men in a big way. They make a conscious choice to give them a chance at ‘payback’ and with some reluctance agree to be the men’s slaves.

Bill creates “Bill’s Bill”, his own chaotic, disorganized but expansive set of rules that outline a requirement the girls earn “100 gold stars” each, by performing well, having a good attitude, and accepting dares, humiliations and contests that truly prove they regret having run the men through the ringer when they were in charge. More importantly, these acts amuse the men, and Bill makes no pretense that he isn’t going to selfishly enjoy his newfound dominion over the women.

The girls despite themselves, perhaps out of a sense of obligation to each other, accept jointly the responsibility for their conduct. They being good sports, feel that turnabout is fair play in this instance and with some reservation agree to the terms, accepting their mistakes in judgment and swallowing their pride to let the men get closure. After all, they had expected the men to do these things. Could they hold themselves to the same standards they once set for others?

At first, this power-reversal has some hiccups, some mistakes were made, some fun was had, and some asses were slapped. I am not going to tell you all about those things, because I really want you to read Family Feud II, you will be glad you did. The men aren’t interested in running things quite the same way as the women had. They point out that what could motivate them, would never motivate the girls and customize their requirements around the differences in how men think as opposed to what women value.

Neighbors, Jamie’s classmates, even some of Wendy’s co-workers start to find out about the arrangement and this experience actually starts to change them, evolve them in unexpected ways. The men become more confident and the women start to learn about themselves, their strengths, their weaknesses. The entire family is spending much more time together than they did when they were four individuals living a fast-paced modern life in the same house.

Wendy and Bill work out a secret arrangement that if Wendy voluntarily accepts more humiliation than can be expected even by the rules, and when they are alone is truly a whore for him, he’ll go a little easier on Jamie. The pain and humiliation will be full bore, but the sexuality he’d show more temperance on. His stipulation is that if Wendy earns her 100 stars before Jamie, or if she tells Jamie about it the deal is off for the remainder of the term.

There is another figure who continues to pop up in the story Cathy Griffin, one of Jamie’s friends and fellow cheerleaders. She seems to enjoy digging up dirt and blackmailing her friends and teachers. The Taylor family is wary of her, but cooperative (for fear she may take revenge). They aren’t sure if she is truly the wicked, evil mastermind, or just a girl with a twisted imagination and some embarrassing photos on her cell phone, pictures that could end careers and marriages.

The story closes on Bill deciding to have a “Family Fun Night” at the county fair, as he begins making ready for a night of humiliations and games of chance, with his slaves as the butt of every joke, he realizes something. How much he loves his life, his wife, and his family.

I could have faded the story to black, and left you the reader to assume there had been a happy ending, and let you write your own epilogue to the story about the fate of the Taylors. Wendy embracing her husband, who had just told her he really wanted her. It was certainly a defining moment in the story.

The transformation that began just a few months ago, when the girls were in charge had begun changing them in ways they would not even realize. Many of these changes subtle, all of them realizing their imperfections and addressing them.

This past week, now that the power had transferred into the men’s hands had become a crucible of change. Bill and Chris were walking taller, starting to take responsibility for their lives, thinking ahead. They had made mistakes; Bill had made his wife sleep with other men, strangers. He had not started out intending that, but he was caught up in control, and his wife AGREED to it, so it just happened. The two hadn’t spoken about it four days prior to chapter two.

There had been other mistakes. Chris had played into Cathy’s hands at school, and got his sister almost kicked out of school. Luck and Cathy herself had helped them to narrowly avoid suspension. The men were still interested in humbling and humiliating the women. After all, they were still angry that they had been treated like house pets themselves. Bill and Chris were working through this anger and they were having a damned good time of it.

Jamie, who had always lived up to every expectation and managed to exceed them, was on her own personal journey as well. Even though Chris was older, he had been the baby of the family, avoiding responsibility where he could, and even though Jamie excelled at everything she had ever done, her parents still saw her as a ’child’. She hadn’t even had a serious boyfriend before this. Now every night, Chris was sending her out on ’dates’ with his nerdy friends for profit. She was also wrestling with the perception from friends and family that she was a ‘goody two shoes’, put up on a pedestal that she didn’t feel she dared make mistakes or else she may let everyone down.

Her journey through submission had only just begun to make her re-evaluate everything about growing up an over-achieving teenager.

Wendy was fit, successful, attractive, and held the house together. She hadn’t taken an internal inventory that she may be flawed. As far as she was concerned, it was everyone else who NEEDED her help. It began to dawn on her, when she was no longer given the authority to organize, motivate and plan the family’s activities, that things managed to get done. She was starting to learn that she had been subconsciously holding the other family members back with her best intentions. Just as her daughter was learning about living for other people’s expectations, Wendy was finding the sun would rise the next day, even if people did not think she had the perfect house, the perfect car, the perfect husband, the perfect job, the perfect family.

They were learning about their moral boundaries, seeing lines that they would never have thought about crossing, as crossable.

If you read the evolution of this story from the beginning, you would have seen how they had not started out making this about sex, or sexuality. Keeping the men naked at first, had been more of a joke, which evolved into a way to humble them into seeing how out of shape they were. Wendy realized she could have them masturbate quickly and they wouldn’t walk around with their boners flopping around, they’d actually concentrate on the task at hand.

When the power came around to the men, they were not content with that. The women weren’t motivated by a desire to orgasm, they simply weren’t wired to think like men. Flipping the script on the women, it became more about humbling them, shaping them to be less controlling, and of course being more than just amusing to the men to direct.

I hope that you want more titties, ass, pussy, punishment, humiliation, games and exploration of the dynamic of the Taylors. You want to know where will this story go?

Do the Taylor girls earn their one hundred stars each, and along with it freedom and dignity once again? Will the family be whole once again? You’ve watched them progress this far, like any good train wreck, can you turn your eyes away now?

BACK AT THE COUNTY FAIRGROUNDS:

“I hope you don’t think that kiss means you get treated any differently, slut?” Bill asked breaking her embrace, basking in his wife’s warmth.

“No sir, I did appreciate it though.” Wendy answered truthfully.

“What you appreciate isn’t really my concern is it? Wiggle your asses down this row, I want the carnies to get a good look at you.” He directed his wife and daughter down the twisting and turning rows of tents and games on the fair’s midway.

The attitude was still light. They walked hand in hand with the girls wiggling their asses, and being flirty while Bill and Chris walked beside them, scanning for opportunities to amuse them, and embarrass the girls.

The fair is all about lights, gaudy tents, and 50 cent peep shows for the world’s smallest dog. The fair is all about smells, the corn dogs hot out of the grease, buttered popcorn, crisp clean yet humid country air, and cotton candy. The fair is all about music from the Himalaya ride, screams, carnival barkers hollering “Hey ya, gimme two seconds there, let me show you what you can win, there, who’ll be a winner, winner, chicken dinner?” to strangers trying hard not to fall for their pitch.

Chris’s mind immediately went to his appetite, and his first choice was deep-fried bacon, which is fully cooked bacon battered in pork rings, fried and served on a stick. The others waited while he ordered some for himself and his dad.

“None for us?” Jamie pouted flirtatiously, but it was obvious she didn’t expect anything.

“You want one up your ass? THAT can be arranged.” Her Dad said, half joking, half serious, taking a bite of his bacon treat, as the four began walking again.

“Would I get a star?” Jamie asked demurely, fluttering her eyes. She did want the stars, but she could also be a good sport. She was starting to get used to her father’s scorn and ridicule, and learning when she could be playful, and when to just shut up. This was a time to be playful.

“Stick end, or Bacon end?” Chris was serious.

Bill changed the subject, “Hey, we can talk about some things to shove up their fat asses in a minute, look at that?”

It was a tented arcade, mostly retro space invaders and moon patrol games, but one object dominated the entrance to the tent. An old fashioned wooden coin operated “Electric chair”, with the phrase “Try the shocker $1.00”

Chris held up his left hand, index and middle finger extended close together and his pinky out in the hand gesture of the same name. “I got a shocker for you. Two in the pink, one in the stink!” He jabbed his pinky into his sisters skirt playfully, causing her to flinch, but offer no protest.

To onlookers, it probably seemed like two siblings just goofing around, a little friendly sibling rivalry.

“How many stars do we get for sitting in that one, Sir?” Jamie asked her father, not retaliating for her brother’s ad-hoc ‘shocker’ poke, still remaining positive and upbeat.

“You don’t get stars for every little thing. I am going to award up to 10 stars, mostly for the right attitude. Slutty and amusing, submissive.” He counted off the attributes he considered virtues one on each finger before continuing .“If we offer you a ride in the chair, don’t be shy and reluctant, give us a good show. I’ll have a few challenges for stars, but I want mostly to see that you and your Mom are going to really accept and demonstrate you are our pets and playthings” Bill explained, not worried about who would over hear him.

The fair had only opened a little while ago, and now that homes had  PlayStation 3, Wii and Xbox, people just weren’t into spending money at the arcade any more. There were only a few patrons in the tent, fewer still stayed very long after the nostalgia of looking at old video games wore off.

“Alright, I’ll take the electric chair, Sir.” Wendy said with a look of joyful amusement, her lips pursed. This was safe enough for anyone in an arcade, what would be the harm? She thought to herself. The chair looked beat up, but it was thick and sturdy. It had two shiny metal cylinders coming out of each of the arms of the chair, which you were obviously supposed to grab on to complete the circuit. Above the chair a “power meter.”

“That’s the spirit! You’ve been sentenced to execution for being a contemptuous bitch!” Bill smirked.

“Me too, sir!” Jamie volunteered, “I am a contemptuous bitch, just like my Mom. Who goes first?” bright-eyed and eager to get through this, it was either an excellent acting job from a girl who’d spent over 50% of her life already as a cheerleader, or she genuinely wanted the shocker.

Chris didn’t say anything, but he felt somewhat cheated when the girls were too eager. It was his test that whatever they were doing wasn’t humiliating enough or hard enough. He much preferred their reluctance. He also didn’t want them kicking and screaming no. He wanted just enough resistance that they still did it, they just didn’t have to like it so much. He kept the thought to himself, at least for now.

“Waste a dollar each? No you can both sit on the chair arms! And hold hands!” Bill’s answer was direct, but gave the impression he was amused they’d think it was that easy to get through this.

At first Wendy thought her husband meant to make them try to impale their pussies on the cylinder, which was too thick, and probably covered in who knows what germs. She soon learned all he wanted was for them to sit on the wooden chair arm, straddling it with their legs on either side. They were to then push the metal cylinder as close up to their pussies as possible with their skirts over the cylinder, and then link hands.

The girls looked in each other’s eyes, and feeding off each other’s determination took their places on either side of the seat, straddling the arm rest, with their skirt forming a ‘tent’ over the shiny metal cylinder.

“Don’t whiz on the elec-tric fence.” Chris sang, an inside joke only he understood. 

“Do you have any quarters?” Bill asked his son.

“Nope”

“Will you go get four?”

Chris took his time going to the change machine, leaving the two on the chair for a few minutes. He noticed there was a cigarette machine right next to it. “Wow, who puts a cigarette vending machine in an arcade for kids?” He briefly wondered about a generation that didn’t card people for buying smokes and let anyone with the money buy them, before remembering what he had been sent to do.

An elderly man walked in to the tent while Chris was farting around, folding and unfolding a dollar to get it to slide into the change machine. The man scanned the girls up and down, both seated on the wooden armrests on the side. “Oh I see, you are going to really get a charge out of that.” He joked in his grampa voice.

“Yes Sir, I hope so…” Wendy said playfully, grinding slightly forward, holding her daughter’s hand. The two were smiling enthusiastically. This didn’t seem so bad, and the night was young and full of opportunities.

Chris returned with the quarters, and after plinking them in one by one the power meter rose to 10%. The girls felt nothing at all.

20%, and they still felt nothing at all. Wendy having the good sense to know the guys were expecting a show began to shake and jerk on her own, making the faces like she was being shocked. Jamie always a good sport followed suit. The two pretended to convulse, holding hands tightly.

By 40%, they could feel a slight tingle of electric current. They were in full acting mode by the time it reached 100% appearing to be in complete agony yet only feeling a tingle. Bill and Chris were skeptical, but smiling.

The old man returned when they had completed the thirty seconds on the chair that the four quarters bought. “You know, that thing hasn’t worked right since 1991. I’ve just had it more as an attention getter to get people to take a look in my arcade.” he said with a sad reservation. “I used to be an electrical engineer in the war; I should probably fix it.”

“What war, Revolutionary or Civil?” Chris’s snarky comment was just playful enough the old man only shook his head in a nod that conceded, “Ok ya got me, I am old.” without saying a word.

“I got to ask if you two lovely ladies will let me take a picture of you two up there on it. It’d make an old man’s day?” he asked endearingly.

“You’ll have to ask the men of the family, Sir. We don’t make the decisions.”

“How I wish you were serious. My Maude, god bless her soul was like that, but they don’t make them anymore that way these days. The hoochie skirts and the well, you know” He was about to say something, but realizing how the girls were dressed he decided to be a bit more diplomatic.

“Yes, you can take a picture of them, tops on, or tops off?” Bill answered the carny’s earlier question.

The old caretaker laughed not taking him seriously “Well now if you want to make an old man’s week, they surely would, but I wouldn’t ask for too much of you good people’s time already.” The gentle old man said, fidgeting with his out dated Polaroid he retrieved from somewhere.

Bill nodded his head at the girls silently standing behind him, “Say Cheese, Wendy!” his code word for Wendy to
ham things up, silently instructing the girls with his body language to give the old man a shock of his own.

As the flash went off, the girls pulled their half shirts up, revealing braless bare tits for a split instant. It should be noted that while doing this at an arcade in a mall may raise eyebrows, at a Country fair, flashing boobs when someone takes a picture of you doesn’t seem all that out of the ordinary that it would shock people much if it happened once or twice in a night.

“Oh darn, I think I may need to take another.” The old man noted, shaking the picture once it came out and blowing on it. From his reaction, they could not tell if he had seen them flash and wanted another chance to look at bouncing boobies, or if he really had camera troubles. They were not even sure he had seen their tits at all in the bright flash.

“We’ve got some places to go; we can stop back if you want another”

“Oh I do, I do. Stop back anytime!” The old man said smiling and waving, nodding as if they were old friends. All at once, reminding Wendy of the time last weekend when she had prostituted herself (at Bill’s order) for a kindly older gentleman just like him. A streak of guilt ran up her spine, as the memory of that encounter came flashing back to her as Bill hustled his family out of the arcade into the Midway.

“What was that?” Bill demanded once they were back outside.

“Sorry Sir, I THOUGHT you wanted us to flash our tits?” Wendy sounded apologetic.

“I wanted you to surprise me, do something really unexpected. You could have made out!” He firmly said making the girls feel stupid for having only done the expected, when they thought they had given the man a fun treat.

“Or grabbed each other’s tits, and motorboated!” Chris added, making an “Mrrbbbllllll” sound, while shaking his face in front of imaginary tits.

Bill made a mental note that Chris probably needed to get laid.

“Hey Dad, it’s called motor boating if you put your face between a girl’s tits and roll around. What is it called when you put your face between a girl’s ass cheeks and do it?”

Bill shrugged and Chris continued to crack his joke “Tuesday night at the Taylor house.” slapping his knee as they walked away from the arcade into the midway of the fair.

Bill’s mood lightened again, singing an accented line from an old country song as his amended answer to his son’s joke. “Looking for love, in all the wrong places.” He sang smiling, feigning motor boating his wife’s butt cheeks from behind.

Chris made a farting noise, almost as if on cue. The timing was spot-on when Bill bent over right behind his wife, to give them the impression it came from Wendy. Spirits were gay enough that they all laughed.

It was still early at the fair on opening day, the crowd was light, even if it had been crowded, no one would have said a word about a family laughing and joking around, even lowbrow humor like that. It just seemed appropriate there.

“Hey, if I fart, I want you guys to accept the blame for it.” Chris thought to himself shortly after the joke, instructing his mom and his sister.

“We aren’t guys,” Jamie corrected teasing her brother. She knew when she could and when she couldn’t, and this was one of those times protocol was loose enough that she could.

“Exactly, you are bitches. So you will excuse yourself if you hear one of us cut the cheese,” Bill added on to his son’s order making it seem legitimate.

“Aren’t you proud of the ones you belt out, Sir?” Wendy smirked at her husband, casting him a side long glance, getting a light slap on her ass as his only playful response.

Bill and Chris had their eyes peeled for another new game or humiliation for the girls. They’d talked about a few ideas in the truck, but the two of them felt their strength was playing things by ear. The women were more the planners of the family.

Bill expressed his disappointment to the ladies that they hadn’t done a little extra and gone the extra mile for his and Chris’s amusement while they passed root beer stands, and games of chance that didn‘t have the potential to pique his interest. “You have to raise your game if you want these ten stars!” He shook the pack of plastic stars he had brought with him for added effect.

“I don’t know yet how things are going to go tonight.” Revealing he didn’t have a plan to Wendy was a gamble. He scanned her face to see if she was going to look disapprovingly at him. She didn’t, she looked more disappointed in herself that she had failed to amuse him. “I am going to play IT BY EAR” emphasizing a catch phrase they used to use a lot that annoyed Wendy. Once again, she did not take the bait.

“Dad, what if we take all twenty stars, and give it like a jackpot to the girl who wins the most contests tonight!!” Chris suggested.

“Son, you are an equal partner in ownership of these sluts.” Bill talked about his wife and Jamie as if they weren’t walking right next to him. “If you think that is the best idea, then that is what we do.” Then he offered a counter-point to his son, “I just take issue with one of them getting twenty for one night. What about ten?”

Jamie fought back the urge to complain that ten for one and zero for another was unfair, when originally it had been a total of 20 stars on the table. They were basically cutting in half the reward for the two of them. She looked at her mother who returned her gazed and silently nodded. They both knew this was not the time to interrupt the men.

Instead, she offered generously, “Whatever dares you givetonight, I will go on record as saying, that ANYTHING Mom does, I will do!”

“Oh, you little hussy!” Wendy offered playfully imitating Victoria Waxerman, before adding “You aren’t afraid that you might be biting off more than you can chew?” Swiveling her hips, so that she bumped her daughters butt from the side sportingly.

“You better be careful, your mouth doesn’t write a check, your ass can’t cash!” Bill commented sagely.

“Anything Mom Can Do, I can do better!”  Jamie sang the song she used to sing about Chris, in the same off-key way she did when she was eleven. It seemed to fit her. You could still see a few of the freckles she had back then, on her sprightly face, and with the pig tails it just worked for her.

“If you back down even once then, if Mom is willing to do it, then you get a correction?” Chris’s statement sounded more like a question than he had intended. He was referring to the more serious second level punishments they had developed index cards for, that they made the girls draw from. Chris had added “Mrs.Waxerman’s Patented Tabasco Colonic” and a few other sadistic ideas he was anxious to try out. The problem being that his Mom and Jamie were such over-achievers they almost never did anything bad enough to deserve drawing a card.

He had given them many of the lighter “infraction” punishments. These punishments were simple, immediate and direct to keep the girls on their toes and reinforce discipline more as routine, then to address particular offenses. The way a shepherd might herd his sheep; these were simply tools to keep the womenfolk of the house in line. The corrections were more involved and formal in nature.

“We don’t have the fishbowl here, so it’d have to be done at home?” Jamie’s answer to his question was  an automatic counter-offer.

“Why do you care? If you had zero doubts you’d back down from a dare mom would do, you’d agree to strip naked and ride the Anaconda.” Chris was referring to the fair’s most notorious roller coaster, but in context it could have been taken to mean his dick. Bill had to think about it for a moment, before he was sure his son meant roller coaster.

“Good point” Jamie agreed with a harumph. “I know you won’t offer a dare or contest so embarrassing that you yourselves will be embarrassed by it just by association with us. It’d get you kicked out, and end the night.” She added “I know Mom wouldn’t agree to a dare like that anyway, so there is a safety valve here. So yeah, if I don’t live up to my promise, punish me here on the midway. I feel confident you won’t need too.” Her sharp, pointy nose turning up slightly punctuating her confidence in that statement.

“How do you know I won’t agree to something awful, just to see you do it?” Wendy asked pragmatically.

“You have more common sense than that.” Jamie smiled, stating the obvious adding, “Besides you’d have to do it too.” Followed by a quiet pause before she added in an uncharacteristically cynical tone “You wouldn’t agree to do something, you wouldn’t want me to do. You don’t have double standards.”

Wendy shuddered for a second hearing a subtext like one of those whistles only dogs can hear. The men failed to pick up on it entirely, and Wendy decided to let the matter drop, and continued smiling.

They continued to walk. It was breezy but starting to get a little humid. It was fun to notice the early birds at the fair. They were mostly your run of the mill white trash from nearby trailer parks taking advantage of the cheaper rides and ticket prices early. Big families of eight kids, the mom openly nursing the littlest under a blanket, the dad in the trucker hat and cut off shirt walking around oblivious to his gaggle of brats following behind like baby duckling pulling each other’s pony tail and poking each other back in retaliation.

“YOINK!”  Chris pulled one of his sister’s pig tails, imitating the latest batch of bratty kids passing by.

It was only mildly annoying and everyone was feeling playful, so she poked him back with a smile on her face.

“Okay you two, am I going to have to separate you?” Wendy’s threat was in jest, she knew she had no power over either of them right now. It didn’t bother her the way she thought it would. She wondered if she could get used to giving up her control as long as she knew Bill would step up and handle things if they really needed to be.

“If you separate them, I’ll separate these!!” Bill dashed behind her, wrapping his arms around her and grabbing both ass cheeks under her skirt, giving her butt a squeeze and pulling them apart shamelessly.

This kind of horseplay at the mall would probably have raised eyes, but here in the open air of the fair, no one seemed to mind. They just saw the Taylors, as blending in with the other white trash, who dressed almost as slutty as Wendy and Jamie, except when they did it, it was on purpose. 

Soon the guys were getting a little bored. Their primary mission tonight was to find amusing ways to make the girls humble themselves, and so far no opportunity presented itself. There had been a booth where people throw dimes into goldfish bowls and win a goldfish if they make it in. These cheap little fish rarely ever survived being transported by little kids who shook the bags all night long until they got home. Just as well for most parents, who didn’t want to spend the money buying an aquarium for the little orange buggers. Chris wasn’t sure what kind of dare he could do with it, but he made a mental note to come back to it.

“DOUCHE-VADER!!!” A familiar young voice greeted them from within a long line of people.

“DOUCHE, I AM YOUR FATHER!!” Chris instantly recognized the voice and following its source, calling out to it. The rest of the family naturally following him as he traced the source of the familiar voice.

“THERE IS NO DOUCHE NOT, THERE IS ONLY DOUCHE!” Gerald, the boy who had gone on a date last Sunday with Jamie waved to them, imitating a Yoda voice. Gerald and Chris were having some sort of inside joke, where they inserted the word ‘Douche’ in Star Wars references.

“What are you douching here, Gerald?” Chris said directly to Gerald, standing in front of his family, a bit like he was their spokesman.

Gerald motioned to his parents who were standing behind him, before explaining he was here to get his picture taken with “SpongeBob, and I think it’s his girlfriend, Sandy Cheeks.”

Chris gazed at the front of the line, at the two costumed characters from a children’s cartoon. “These are not the douches you are looking for.” He waved his hand as if hypnotizing Gerald, adding “They barely even look like them. Is Sandy supposed to be a squirrel or a chipmunk?”

As Gerald and Chris began to argue about the authenticity of the conversation, Gerald’s parents stepped out from behind their son, his father extending his hand to Bill.

“Hi, Put her there, I am Brad, and this is my wife Janet.” Offering a firm handshake, “I apologize about my son being so childish, you’d think by 7th grade he’d outgrow the need to actually MEET people dressed up in costumes of cartoons, as if they were the real thing.”

Jamie, who had thought Gerald might be a little older, based on how he carried himself, sighed in disbelief “7th grade?”

“Oh this must be your lovely daughter, Jamie!” Gerald’s dad reached to shake her hand adding, “I’ve heard SO much about you”. He did a double take when he had a chance to get a good look at her. She was at least a head taller than his son. His face disapproved of how she was dressed, but then he also seemed to disapprove of his son’s nerdy habits.

“You are much taller than I had expected” Brad said clearing his throat. He caught his wife giving him a stern look, and decided it might be best if her were to stop talking to the pretty young girl..

His wife Janet looked down her nose at the Taylor family from how they were dressed. It seemed to Janet, anyone who took pleasure in such low-brow charms as a ‘County Fair’ wasn’t her kind of people. She exuded a presence of someone who felt this was all beneath her.

Janet took this as an opportunity to introduce herself.  “We wouldn’t ordinarily come to a ‘County Fair’.” Saying it as if it were the last place she’d be on the planet. “Our Son,” She corrected herself, “our eldest son, is just home from Dartmouth, and he promised to meet us here. He seemed to think we might have fun.” Her tone firmly denying the possibility.

“Yeah, same for us” Bill answered on behalf of the family. “We came here tonight for some family fun, isn’t that right?”

The rest of the family’s response was drowned out by the Spongebob anthem which periodically played on a revolving loop. “ARE YA READY KIDS!!?”” To which the line of excited kids and parents responded “AYE AYE CAPTAIN!!”

“Oh there it is again, every five minutes they play that dreadful racket.” Janet said with disdain for all things childlike. “Just look at those girls in front.” Pointing out two young black girls. The first had on hot pink shorts with a tank top imprinted with a tootsie roll pop and the caption “Lick don’t bite”. The other girl wearing a low slung white terry shirt revealing her naked shoulder and most of her bra, and revealing, skin-tight white leggings. The girls were just ahead of Gerald’s family, shaking their butts, and having a good time talking to one another.

“Where is the mother? Those outfits are far too revealing! Girls their age shouldn‘t be permitted to cavort around in that way.” She said with disgust, before drinking in the outfits Wendy and Jamie were dressed in. Giving them a left-handed compliment, “Well yours of course, are the exception. I mean it’s obvious, you both went to some lengths to match. What are you supposed to be, Raggedy Ann and Andy?”

“Mom, they are obviously Misty, from Pokemon!” Gerald explained their outfit as if it was plainly obvious. The denim skirts, the yellow half shirts and red suspenders with pig tails being only at best,  homage to the cartoon character. Their belled cat collars and high heels being the only other part of their ensemble having nothing to do with the Misty character.

“Fair is kind of hot and muggy, I don’t see the problem with girls dressing like that.” Bill expressed his opinion with a matter of fact manner that he had until recently only displayed in his internet-debates online in chat forums.

“Anyone find a Camel’s foot around here?” Gerald interrupted the adults, “because I just found the camel toe!” pointing on stage to the girl in the white leggings, apparently oblivious that while friends snapped pictures of her standing with the Squirrel from SpongeBob, the outline of her pussy was visible to everyone else in the line.

Bill noted that a few dad’s seemed to snap pictures with their cell phone on the sly. He smirked wondering what his women would do to top that.

“Gerald, that is inappropriate talk. I don’t know where you learned that term from.” She looked at Chris accusingly. Turning to the Taylor family, she observed “I think it is shameful, for such young eyes to see that sort of thing.”

“But the girls themselves are young, so what is wrong with a young boy, seeing  a young girl?” Bill asked.

“It isn’t natural.” she harrumphed.

“I think it is very natural. If it wasn’t, God wouldn’t have made young boys interested in chasing young girls. I was chasing them and tugging their pig tails as soon as I could run.” He tugged his wife’s braid playfully adding “I caught myself one, didn’t I?”

“Yes Sir, you sure did.” Wendy stifled the urge to wince.

“Wendy doesn’t mind dressing sexy when we go out, do you honeybunch?” Bill asked playfully.

When they had been teasing Mrs. Waxerman a few days ago it had been fun to say outrageous and shocking things. Waxerman had beliefs in “old fashioned male dominated households” and thought the worst of Wendy anyway. It had been fun to wind up the batty old gossip, just to see her reaction. The woman had been a neighbor for years and they had many mutual friends, Wendy had every reason to be humiliated and she had been to a great extent, but there had been a joy to playing the part of the wanton and wayward wife in need of discipline to her.

Why then did it seem so difficult to tell this woman she had just met “If it amuses the men, and they get a smile, then why not?” Was it perhaps because she saw herself in Janet? Her old self. The empowered, modern woman obsessed with appearances and status? The conservatively dressed, yet attractive professional, who valued career as much as family.

Gerald was engaged in a silly slap fight with Chris, the two were making “Zzssshhhhh” noises with imaginary light sabers. Their antics brought the focus back on them and away from Wendy before she had to say more.

“I think it’s great my Son has found someone to play with.” The Husband intoned. “He is such a smart kid, it’s hard for him to find playmates his age, who really understand him.” His comment seemed more like an apology for his son’s behavior than a compliment.

“Yes, but he said he was dating your daughter?” Janet’s probing question, carried in its tone the follow up, “Why on earth, would she do that?”

Jamie stood at attention, as if by habit and answered, “Gerald, is a perfect gentleman, and a delightful conversationalist. It was a pleasure to go on a date with him. I look forward to accompanying him again, where ever he may choose for our next date, Ma‘am”. Her answer was not robotic or mechanical, but stilted as if perhaps she were reciting something from one of the many affirmations Chris had her do before and after the dates he had sent her on the past week.

Chris and Gerald stopped their mock battle of ‘douche powers’, to listen to this.

Janet cocked her head, trying to wrap her head around the polite response. She hadn’t expected that.

“You seem like a very lovely, Girl. I am looking forward to getting to know you.” Janet felt odd saying words that weren’t cynical and disapproving. It was something of a refreshing new experience for her.

Janet’s approval felt good to Jamie. That was refreshing too. It hadn’t hurt her to be complimentary to Gerald. She predicted his parents would reassess him a little based on what she said. His dad was already silently giving his son a “Way to go, Son!” look.

Chris pinched her bottom quickly, reminding Jamie of her manners. She offered her customary “curtsy” she had been doing with all her dates as she‘d been taught by her father. First she lowered her head, making herself appear slightly more vulnerable than she did already. Then she placed both hands on the sides of her mini-skirt,holding it out sideways. From this angle up close, Gerald’s parent’s failing to notice just a wisp of her pussy, visible only for a split second under the short skirt. Bending her knees outward, rather than forward with just enough of a dip, to make her titties jiggle on the way up.

“A perfect curtsy, honey.” Bill praised Jamie as she completed it, and gave a glance to Wendy who followed suit.

Janet cocked her head again, trying to make sense of what she had just seen.

It was Gerald’s turn to take pictures with SpongeBob, saying goodbye to Chris with a wave he ran up to the stage.

“MAY THE DOUCHE BE WITH YOU!!” Chris cupped his hands around his mouth to yell as his friend ran.

Brad kneeled to take pictures of his son, leaving Janet awkwardly with no one to talk to except the Taylors.

Bill took this as an opportunity to huddle up the family instead.

He enjoyed humiliating the girls publicly, but he hadn’t picked up on any of the hidden power-exchange between the three women in the group. Wendy was used to being an outgoing alpha female, and she would have naturally returned Janet’s subtle barbs, with some of her own.

That wasn’t happening of course, because Wendy was trying to remain quiet. If Bill had been inside Wendy’s head, he probably would have discovered that it was eating Wendy up inside simply not to return Janet’s scorn. Janet had this look of, “Yes, my son is a geek, but your two are worse, and they are older, so that makes you a bad mom.”

At least that is what Wendy was telling herself, and it instantly made her despise this woman she had never met until only moments ago.

Chris was the first to suggest “Let’s stay and get our pictures taken, we‘ve basically cut in line anyway”

Jamie rolled her eyes, instinctively. Cutting in line was one of her pet peeves. She was glad only her Mom saw her faux pas realizing that may have been an immediate punishment, possibly a “correction” instead of just an “infraction“ the lightest punishment she could receive. She’d been so good all week, that corrections had been quite rare and there had been no judgments (the highest level punishment) at all.

Wendy did not feel relieved. She was ready to get away from this woman, before she fell back into her old habits, passive aggressively commenting on her “lovely choice of blouse, it must be nice to be able to wear white after labor day.” perhaps. Wendy pursed her lips in a smile, at the silent insult that had only been heard inside her mind.

Bill was about to tell his son, he wanted to get back to the fair. The line was too long, and he hadn’t seen how this held any opportunities for him. SpongeBob and Sandy Cheeks? Who cared about a couple of sweaty college kids dressed in costumes of cartoon characters getting their pictures taken with them.

Suddenly, he had a flash of inspiration, “When it’s your turn, you two bimbos are going to hustle your ass up there with a quickness, and get very friendly with these SpongeBob and his girlfriend. We’ll take pictures. This is your chance to surprise and impress us. Whoever takes the best picture, wins!!”

“What do we win?” Wendy whispered back.

“The contest” Bill answered, not understanding the question.

“Oh, like Rice-A-Roni?” Chris paraphrased his mother. “A little prize, they give out on game shows. Turtle wax, a little door prize. I can handle that. Thanks to Gerald’s rich-ass parents, and all the other dorks I’ve set Jamie up with this week, I happen to be flush-with-cash.” He paused and separated the last few words, to punctuate his happiness to have money.

“You are welcome, Sir” Jamie whispered during the family’s huddled conversation, directed towards her Brother.

Gerald’s parents had finished their son‘s photo, and left without saying goodbye, no doubt happy to be away from such a pedestrian and immature activity as waiting with their son so he could get his picture taken with cartoon characters. Someone tapped them on the shoulder to let them know they should go, they were holding up the line.

Chris assured the Taylor women he would think of some token for the winner of the dare as the girls dashed the ten to twenty feet between their place in line and the raised stage where people got their pictures with whatever adorable cartoon character, was currently on duty.

Bill had Wendy’s more modern phone, asking his son to take stills while he captured video.

“Awww, Can’t I be in some?” Chris asked enthusiastically.

“Sure, whatever you want, Son.” Bill was way past shaming his son about his nerdy interests. He knew what Pokemon was, and he’d laughed at an episode of Sponge Bob on Nickelodeon., His generation had been raised to think that when you became an adult you had to give up that stuff. He envied his son, he seemed to question those instructions and not be as hung up on trying to be ‘cool’.

As Chris snapped the first picture, Wendy and Jamie started out simple, being hugged by the two characters. Bill put his away, his thoughts pitying Gerald, for a father who wasn’t as accepting of him as he was of Chris. He wanted some action!

  The college kid playing SpongeBob’s head was completely visible but painted yellow, to match the foamy square costume he had around him. His forearms sticking out of the side of the costume representing sponge bob’s actual arms. He had been trained not to ‘grope’, so despite the sexiness of the two ladies he had actively avoided anything but the most innocent pose.

The same was true of the girl around the same age. Her face was painted like a squirrel, complete with fake buck teeth. She had on what looked like an inverted fishbowl for a helmet. Her costume consisted of brown glossy body paint and a brown bikini, with a bushy tail attached to the back.

There was probably a good reason for the glossy body paint. Just as Renne Faires have fun for the entire family, some of the fun for the dad’s is to see the Elizabethan milk maids with the low cut bodices displaying ample cleavage. The fair wasn’t above painting sexy women on the side of fun houses, or having cute girls in bathing suits to sell a few beers to dear old dad.

The glossy body paint, made it less likely that if Dad accompanies his son up to get a hug, he’d want too much of one, or else he’d be wearing that silvered paint himself.

The second shot was a little more risqué’. The two girls faced each other, covered their mouths seductively with a finger, arched their back, raised one leg each, and pushed out their butts. There was a “Betty Boop” quality to the two of them between the cartoon characters.

It should be said that even though mostly kids stood in line, some parents, and some grownups would go up alone for a photo opportunity. So there was nothing out of the ordinary about the two taking their turn.

Bill noted a few guys in line holding their cell phones as if checking for a text message, eyebrow raised at an angle that could also be quietly taking a picture of the two sexy women up on stage.

Bill’s sense of pride that other men thought his wife was good looking enough to risk a stray camera shot, was diminished only by the fact the two hadn’t really done anything worthy of either of them winning.

Wendy faced her daughter, and her side to sponge bob, using his right forearm arm to catch her as she slid back,  draped her left arm over her boob to make it seem like very accidental coverage.

Jamie did exactly the same pose, so far the best one yet. A few more cameras came out slyly, as other men begin to notice that something interesting might be happening on stage.

Jamie and Wendy hadn’t planned to copy each other’s moves, but it just seemed natural to play off what the other girl was doing. Wendy whispered to the guy playing Sponge bob, “My Nephews just love your show, they’ll love these photos” trying to pretend to be a big fan who just wanted very affectionate pictures with him.

“Lady, I am not REALLY sponge bob, and some of your last poses, it felt like I was accidentally touching you somewhere I shouldn’t” he told her, his voice underlying his concern he’d be fired, more than he actually cared about touching her.

“Oh pish-tosh” She put her finger on his mouth and gave him a playful kiss on the cheek bending over at the knees, to face her back to the audience. “The costume is made of foam, if your foam touched my boob, it is all in fun right?” Wendy didn’t like that she sounded like the over-sexed cougar seducing the college boy, but it was all in fun and would be over with shortly. She chalked it up to part of her agreement with Bill and Chris.

Cameras were coming out now making no secret they were taking shots on the sly. When Jamie and Wendy both bent at the knee, they showed less than a half inch of ass crack. This was far less than anyone might see at a swimming pool or a beach, but because of where they were, it seemed like an open initiation to take pictures of them being sexy.

Wendy could see him looking over at the other performer on stage, and at her daughter.

“Switch, Dixie?” Her mom used the fictitious name Jamie had given herself, when they were first getting past security in the fair.

“Why, I do declare, Sponge Bob surely is a hunk” Jamie answered, letting go of Sandy, and embracing the awkward college boy playing Sponge bob with a sultry sashay to her walk.

Wendy knew she was more his speed, and didn’t feel the least bit intimidated by him, so she had no concerns about her daughter hamming it up with him. It was about as harmless as a school dance.

That inspired her to dance with the girl playing SpongeBob’s Girlfriend Sandy Cheeks. With absolutely no concern for the body paint, Wendy pressed her body close to Sandy’s, dancing to a music only she could hear. Bopping her ass back and forth in a meringue style.

The loop that played the SpongeBob theme song kicked in, as the speakers crackled to life. “ARE YA READY KIDS!!?”

The line of about 30 kids, with their parents responded explosively, “AYE, AYE CAPTAIN!!”

‘I can't heeeaaar yooouuu!” The expected response answered the crowd from a tape playing somewhere else.

“AYE, AYE CAPTAIN! “ Louder than the first time, the crowd was energized by the show’s theme song

Being on stage for Jamie, was like second nature. A childhood of dance recitals and cheerleading made being in front of an audience, feel like a second home. The music only made it easier to be more limber.  She was starting to wonder if many of her dance routines hadn’t been designed by dirty old men, and she just hadn’t realized it.

She hadn’t until now that is. She scanned the crowd and saw the lusty faces of the fathers and realized just how much her little jumps and shimmies seemed provocative. Of course, at the time she was doing them, she wasn’t quite as developed, nor was she wearing pig tails, in a skirt that flipped up just a bit, hinting that she had nothing on underneath.

While most performers usually just saw a blur out in the audience, she was able to scan their faces and get a good idea how her routine was going. Most everyone seemed pleased with her and her mom’s sexy poses. She had been up there for more than 10 pictures, realizing that now, most of the crowd seemed to be taking pictures of the spectacle.

Then her eyes fell on Bill and Chris. They were both bored.

Jamie felt she needed to improvise so as not to disappoint her dad and brother. They hadn’t been satisfied in the electric chair dare, even though they had done everything expected of them. She was trying to be creative the best way she knew how. Jamie knew the song would end in a few seconds, and then the audience’s energy would die down and expect them to get off the stage.

Taking the start of the song as her cue, Jamie spun on her high heels (a little awkwardly at first) which only served to capture the audience’s attention, her recovery made to seem like her fumble was intentional and exaggerated.

“Oooooooooooo.........

Who lives in a pineapple under the sea? “

In time with the music, Jamie gave two high kicks, and reached for her mother’s hand.

“Sponge Bob Square Pants!”

Audience members shouted along with the chorus of the song. Wendy let go of the brown squirrel she was dancing awkwardly with and took her daughter’s hand, spinning up close to her as if she were Travolta’s dance partner in Saturday Night Fever.

“Absorbent and yellow and porous is he.”
“Sponge Bob Square Pants!”

Cameras were popping out, some not making any effort to hide it. This seemed planned, or at the very least spontaneous and funny. The girls were smiling as they danced, their mother/daughter routine becoming more of a cheer.

Wendy hadn’t been a popular girl in high school, just a quiet wallflower. She didn’t have Jamie’s background in cheer, but she did have years and years of all the latest fads in step aerobics and exercise to music following some plastic Barbie doll instructor at the gym. Following Jamie’s moves were easy.

The crowd was smiling, no one complained, even though a couple of their kicks caused their skirts to fly up. The short little skirts bounced back down just as quickly.

If nautical nonsense be somethin' ya wish.

Sponge Bob Square Pants!

Titties bouncing as they hopped on their toes, Jamie even heard a boy cry out, “MISTY, I LOVE YOU!!” in recognition of her resemblance to his Anime crush. She blew him a kiss, and he fell backwards in his father’s arms, causing his parents to laugh at the highly innocent little exchange.

Then drop on the deck and flop like a fish.

Sponge Bob Square Pants!

In synch with each other at this point, they fell on their backs and began shaking their legs. If anyone saw up their skirts, they kept it to themselves. Each person feeling perhaps they got a peak at something they shouldn’t see, a split second up skirt, just assuming they probably had on panties. Who wouldn’t wear them with such short skirts, if they were going to dance around, right?

The girls flopping around and kicking got them some good laughs.

Ready?”

Jamie’s, only thought was suddenly it was important to entertain Chris and her Dad. She didn’t have time to ask herself why. This was the big finish of the song. Jamie got up without using her hands to help her, demonstrating amazing flexibility, by first popping down low into a full split. She didn’t have time to register that without panties her bare pussy crack touched the floorboards of the stage. Neither did anyone else, because her skirt hadn’t rode up, being just perfect to cover her naughty bits.

As the final “SpongeBob Squarepants” Chorus kicked in wrapping up the song, Jamie clasped her hands together, raised them over her head in a V, and then raising herself up with just her legs, without bending her knees in the slightest. Her daily practices at cheer finally serving her some practical purpose to win her the admiration of the crowd as she boosted herself into the air, for a mid-air split.

As she launched herself up for her final jump, an all or nothing kick, both legs kicking out in opposite directions, so that her left was fully behind her and her right leg fully extended the direction she was now facing, her skirt flapped open revealing her strawberry pink shaved pussy for all of a second.

If a Camera or video was taking a shot at that split second, this would be the classic kind of airborne up skirt .jpg or .mpg that people trade of tennis stars and cheerleaders in the midst of an athletic routine, to catch them at their most humbling moment.

To the naked eye, all that was visible was a blur of teenage girl, legs spread behind her in front, doing a flying split before landing with perfect poise, dropping into her Mom’s waiting arms as if they had practiced.

The song ended as abruptly as it had begun, sapping all the energy from the crowd. All eyes from the audience were on them now.

Wendy and Jamie did the only thing they could do.

They both gave the formal curtsy they had given earlier, to the stunned audience.

They lowered their heads in unison, placing both hands on the sides of their skirt, and holding it out sideways. Bending at the knees outward, and doing a low dip, before popping up for one final bouncing gesture. Wendy’s jugs having slightly more bounce than her daughters.

CLAP…CLAP….CLAP….A single set of hands ominously clapping slowly, while the two held their curtsy with frozen smiles. “What? No slow golf clap?” Chris joked, when the others in line didn’t give a standing ovation.

The girls hopped down, their turn more than over.

Wendy noted they had done something embarrassing, and humiliating. A mother/daughter cheer routine of sorts and the world hadn’t ended. No one seemed to mind at all. At the County Fair, girls in tight shorts and miniskirts with boots were a common sight, it had a white-trash kind of feel to it. It seemed no one was in her face telling her she was a horrible parent, or calling the cops.

She was actually surprised. She wondered how she would have reacted to seeing two other women doing a similar presentation before she had accepted her humbling. She assumed, probably like Gerald’s Mom with disdain and disgust.

As they walked around away from the line, Jamie noted two other girls about her age striding up to the stage, high fiving each other like they had some goofy plan, they were both smiling. She wondered if the two were going to try a dance routine of their own now that they had seen her and her Mom do one..

She’d have to wonder about that, because her Dad was ready to move on to bigger and better things.

“Okay, you two…You did good, not good enough to earn something to eat, or a bathroom break, but you did good”

Jamie and Wendy didn’t hide their disappointment. They were both thirsty and had even built up a slight sheen of sweat from all the jumping they had done. Their soft skin, looking like it was coated in a high gloss baby oil.

“Oh fine, you did GREAT!” Bill couldn’t hide it anymore, and their smiles grew, as his did.

“You can both have a sip of my drink, when I am done with it.” Bill’s expression changing back to stern, just to fuck with them.

The girls accepted Bill’s decision with a “Thank you Sir!!” knowing they had to appear grateful for any kindness offered them or be corrected. Their faces and tone sounding pleased as was expected of them, but clearly hoping for more of a reward

It was exactly what Bill had wanted them to feel. Raise their hopes, “Good Job!!!” with a happy face, and then with a cruel one “You win a…kick to the ass” was just the impression he wanted to leave with them. It would be a long night of fun and games for Bill, and even though he had been thoroughly impressed, he didn’t want the girls thinking they had this in the bag. Fawning over every little thing they did right, had only served to make their egos intolerable. He’d ration his praise, after he had them run his mazes and play his games.

Chris summed up Jamie and Wendy’s feelings by imitating the sound from one of those old video games right when you lose and have nothing left, the Space Invaders ate all your shields and landed on your base.

“Womp-Womp-Waaaaa….Womp Womp” 

The Family Feud III

Chapter Two
“Family A Fair”

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 21
JAMIE: 21

“What do we have here?” Bill said stopping after a short walk from the Sponge bob Squarepants stage in front of a small out of the way portable wooden gazebo off one of the winding side paths from the main midway.

The gazebo walls were only waist high supporting a counter with artist flash on it. It was Airy and open for the potential customers passing by to gawk and be tempted to take a chance on a travel-by-night tattoo artist at a county fair making money off the people who get it on a whim.

“I’ve been meaning to take you down to Chico’s to get hoops like your mother‘s.” Bill told his daughter. “Chris has been having you date every night. You may not get another chance to go for a while, and that is three stars right off the bat. How much you earned off her date’s by the way Chris?”

“Just around tree-fitty.” Chris quipped making a funny voice.

“Wow, thanks ladies. Three hundred and fifty smackers. That buys a lot of deep fried bacon from your service.” Bill took a bite and began chewing to illustrate his point that they were enjoying the fruit of the girl’s labors.

The Taylor women did not like greasy foods. They had both eaten very healthy before all this began, Panini’s, Salads, and Chicken wraps. That being said, with all the smells of exotic foods being cooked, sautéed, and fried wafting by, and watching the men’s faces as they took delicious bite after bite, it was tempting to them.

Jamie started to make her duck lips face, while concentrating on her decision. She stopped herself before committing the faux pas of making that face. It would have probably set her brother off and earned her a correction. “Five stars! and I’ll do it!” She paused.

“Five stars? You can take them out after you earn back your dignity and freedom, you selfish twat!” Bill sounded a little angry, but he was actually amused. “You’ll get three stars, just like your mother did. Take it or leave it.”

Jamie quietly debated asking for four, and then decided to ask for something she had secretly wanted before her penance for helping torment and tease the Taylor men had ever begun. She had just been too shy and embarrassed and caught up in her “Good girl” persona to ask for it. “Three, yes sir. That is very generous! Can I ask that I get a belly ring too, a pretty one that I can keep after our time is up?”

Belly button piercing amongst her peers was very popular and accepted as mainstream at her school.

“Always thinking of your own vanity!” Bill’s grumble mixed with a tinge of delight wasn‘t fooling anyone that he was excited. “You two ready for a tattoo?” he asked vainly, knowing they probably would not go for it.

“Sir, I don’t want to be a party pooper, but didn’t Hector tell us we needed a notarized application?” Wendy asked cautiously. She regretted asking and sounding like a nag, at the same time pointing out problems like that was so part of her nature she found herself hard pressed to stop. She remembered the man at the tattoo parlor who did the piercing telling her how the law worked for minors who want piercings.

“Hi Guy, can my daughter get some piercings? “ Bill asked the sweaty bald man inside the gazebo, without answering his wife as if to prove a point. He was in the process of doing a tattoo on a woman’s arm.

“Do bears shit in the woods?” he responded without looking up from his tattoo work. The jolly tattooed man inside the Gazebo seemed like the kind of guy who didn’t stand on the letter of the law, which is probably why he wasn’t working at a legitimate tattoo parlor in the first place.

Wendy wanted to bring up how it would be better to go to a more reputable place that would be here after the weekend, and the possibility of the tattoo artist using unsanitary needles. She knew those were all passive aggressive delaying actions. She knew that was what everyone expected her tactic would be. In truth, she just didn’t want her daughter to have to expose herself completely out in the open-air gazebo, and having gone through the piercing process she wanted to shield her from it.

The artist, still intent on his work said, “Had a biker chick in Tucson, tattoo a “Fuck Obama: Yes We Can” right on her tits. Didn’t care who walked by. Some artists won’t do tattoos like that, but I don’t give a shit. Only thing I don’t do is Nazi stuff. Had it done in about ten minutes, but she got some stares. Half of the fun of coming to the fucking fair is to people watch. You know what I mean?”

Wendy hadn't wanted to like what was going to go down, and she still had her reservations remembering how humiliating her own piercing had been. She knew Bill was going to want the tattoo. She really wanted to give it to him. It was just 'skin' after all, but it was her skin, at least it would be after this was all over. For now, it was his, and technically Chris's too. Wendy wasn't paying attention to Mikey's sales pitch, as much as she was listening to her own inner monologue.

That metaphorical angel who sits on one shoulder that tells you what is right, and the demon who sits on the other shoulder telling you how much you really want this and how happy Jim will be. The part Wendy couldn't reconcile was that the angel seemed to be telling her to give Bill this one. She'll be with him for the rest of her life, til death do she part. The red devil on the other shoulder seemed to be the one warning her what other people would think of her, if they found out.

She wondered who COULD find out? Obviously while she was obliged by her agreement to finish her term as Bill's slave, she really was his whore. Anyone who saw her ass over the next two weeks is probably going to know that too. After that, other than bikinis, she probably had nothing to worry about. She looked forward to monogamy, Steve was wearing her out during working hours.

She had a lot to think about, and now was one of those moments, that would set the tone for the rest of the night. If she was pissy about this, it would also probably mean neither she nor her daughter got their 20 stars. Bill could be stubborn when he fixated on something and she had heard him mention tattoos at least a few times since last Monday. A tattoo of ownership, was enough of a staple of erotic BDSM stories, that even with only the few she had read, she knew that much.

“Five stars for you, that is above and beyond the other ten you could earn! Get the tattoo we discussed last Monday!” Bill offered his wife only half-listening to the tattoo artist’s story. He was feeling gracious and he wanted his wife to get that tattoo. It would be a big reassurance to him that he has established dominance over her. “But you’ve got to agree to keep it for at least a year after this before getting it removed.” stipulating his condition.

“Honey, I am just worried that it’s entirely open in there, is all.” Wendy was afraid her daughter, who had no experience with piercing besides her ears wasn’t really seeing how exposed they’d be.

“Mom, don’t worry about it. He wouldn’t do it, if it was like totally over the top.” Jamie whined. She was book smart, but a little too trusting at times for her own good. She was a good person, so she assumed too often, that many other people were. At least that is how Wendy took her daughter’s desire to go through with this here at the fair.

“Hey, if you’ve been to a Claire's in the mall, it’s actually pretty fast. I’ve got no privacy veil, but I get most of my business because other people see what I am doing, and think it’s cool and want the same thing. That is why my price is cheaper than anything you are going to find at a brick and mortar.” The tattoo artist still hadn’t looked at them, he was finishing up on the work he was doing, totally focused on his current client. “In about two minutes I’ll be done, whichever one wants to come inside the gazebo, they can start getting ready, is the area shaved?”

“You won’t find a hair on them.” Chris bragged.

“Good, had a dude with his chest so hairy, I had to charge him extra. I called it a sheering fee!” The artist was fixed on his work, moving the motor powered needle with precision on his client’s shoulder, dabbing and sponging as he went. The woman he was doing it too on his client chair was in her mid-40s, didn’t say a word. She lay facing forward, her chest pressed against the back of the chair, straddling it. His client was attractive, in a trailer park kind of way, brown hair with frosted tips, but her skin was leathery from too much tanning.

“Okay Crystal, let me set it for you!” The tattoo artist raised his hand to slap her tattoo, a big smile on his face.

“Don’t you slap my back, Mikey D! You motherfucker!” The client’s husky voice made sexy by whiskey and cigarettes.

“Spoil sport! It is a tradition. Everyone gets their ink set, otherwise it won’t last.” Mirth on his face, but she wasn’t having any of it, getting herself ready to leave without another word.

“Who is next?” he asked, while the woman pulled up her pink chiffon tube top, flashing just a hint of side boob without a hint of embarrassment towards the customers who caught a glimpse. She collected her things and left without paying, probably having paid before the job began. He didn’t offer her any aftercare instructions or try to sell her any ointments, already focused on his next job.

“Mom, you said I could make up my own mind about things, I’d actually like piercings. She didn’t stamp her feet, but the way she pivoted on her hip before quickly straightening up, gave that impression.

“If you get them, I am getting the tattoo!” Wendy countered, hoping her daughter would back down. In retrospect, Wendy realized that might have been a bad tactic to take. She didn’t have many options, her control and authority was gone. Bluffing her daughter into backing down made sense in the split second she had to decide to say it. Now that it was out there on the table, she didn’t know how to reel that back in.

“Okay, is that supposed to stop me? If I was old enough to get a tattoo, I’d probably get one too.” Jamie wasn’t being defiant, but she wasn’t sounding submissive either. Bill tolerated this, since he was pleased Wendy saying she wanted the tattoo served his interests and he didn’t care why she did. He also liked when the two of them bumped heads. It was a lot better than when they put them together to undermine him, he laughed at his own thought.

“Dad, your daughter is 18, right?” The tattoo artist asked, calling Bill by the name everyone else used for him.

“Yes, she is, just turned.” Bill calmly lied, realizing the question was a farce, from a guy looking to make a sale.

“Works for me. You want a tattoo, come sit up here in Uncle Mikey’s chair, Birthday girl, and show me where you want it.” Mikey shop was cash only, no checks. He didn’t like paper trails, he didn’t like government. If someone would have asked him, he’d explain how he was Libertarian and didn’t believe in taxes or alimony (Him owing both extensively not withstanding). No one actually did ask him about that, but I suppose now you know he was ready if they had. It was good enough for Bill, that the two men had an understanding that Bill’s word would suffice for any notary.

Bill also felt he would have had the papers notarized anyway, so he didn’t feel one iota of guilt about ignoring a law just because he hadn’t gone through all the motions with it. This was the time to get the piercings, and possibly Wendy’s tattoo, he had a good feeling about that. He liked the tattoo artist much better than he did the guy who did his wife’s piercings. He felt he could relate to him, and liked his sense of humor. He also liked the fact that the guy seemed to be willing to do them both for about fifty bucks.

“Can I go first at least, Sirs?” Wendy asked, hoping that if her daughter saw how humiliating it was, she’d change her mind.

“Way to go, Mom!” Chris shouted encouragingly.

“Hey, the family that tattoos together” Mikey said trying to think of something clever “Probably does a lot of shit together, whoever wants to go next, come on down… you are the next contestant on ‘Hurry the fuck up‘” his voice intoned like a game show announcer.

Wendy strode reluctantly into the gazebo. It was dusk, and the fair had hours to go before it would be packed with people eager to experience the first night of the fair. It was still just busy enough to make Wendy feel vulnerable, but not so much that anyone could call it a crowd.

She stood next to Mikey nervously, summoning her courage, looking over her shoulder while scanning her family. Past Bill and Chris’s excited faces, to Jamie’s for some sign she’d back down. There wasn’t, it was more of a hopeful excitement.

“Okay, what do you want me to do?” Mikey asked Wendy.

“She wants Cumdump on her right ass cheek.” Bill answered very sternly. Bill had been using words like this around the girls enough the past week, that it was no surprise to either of them. It still hurt to hear and picture a tattoo like that, but it wasn’t the first time Wendy had heard this request. Jamie on the other hand, had the folly of youth working against her, a bad choice in tattoos for the rest of one’s life (even covering it or getting it removed) just wasn’t’ registering as something to dread.

“Seriously?” the artist’s face was mock disbelief, as he raised his eyebrows to look up at Wendy for confirmation, wheeling his stool around to face her.

“Hey, it‘s your money. But, I’ve got to warn you, I mean you saw the last job I did. With that skirt you’ve got on, I don’t know how I can do it with a lot of privacy.” He directed her to sit on the chair, backwards, so that she was straddling the same way his last client had.

Mikey lifted her skirt slightly, exposing a tiny amount of pink cheek. He had to get off his stool and under his client chair, looking up. “I could do it from down here, I guess but the letters would be really small.”

“Regular size letters.” Bill instructed, “Can she take off the skirt?”

“Sure could, but I can’t promise the security won’t boot you out of here.” The artist assumed that wasn’t an option. He didn’t know the Taylors yet, though.

“You said that biker chick in Tuscon got her boobs tattooed.”

“Well yah, but it was at a Biker festival, and everyone was popping their tops. I mean look, you pay me 25 bucks, I’ll write just about whatever you want, you pick the flash.” Tapping the designs of butterflies and sailors, and various lettering styles that adorned the wooden counter surrounding the inside of the gazebo, where the flashes were displayed.

“Flash that ass, right Mom?” Chris answered spontaneously.

Wendy’s chest was pressed against the chair, facing away, her back to the family and to the fair itself. She couldn’t tell if her son was kidding or giving an order.

“Yes Sir, Let’s make it easy for the man, he doesn’t have a lot of time.” She was already standing up, bending over and sliding down the skirt, after unsnapping the suspenders that were for decorative purposes only anyway.  “Can my daughter hold my skirt?” Her question rhetorical to sound polite,  already handing Jamie her clothes exposing herself from the waist down in the gazebo.

Fair goers walking past would have had no idea she was naked from the waist down, because the gazebo just happened to have wooden barriers as high as the counter top the artist displayed his flash art. If they had stopped right where the Taylor Family was standing they would have had a complete view of her hairless pussy, and firm naked ass.

“How do you want me, Sir?” Wendy said to the stunned artist, who now had another story for his collection, to tell future customers about something crazy that happened to him one night.

“I want you cloned, and shipped to my mobile home.” Is all he said, while bending her gently at the waist and having her straddle his artist chair as before. This time with her pert, bare cheeks spread.

“You might want to form a human wall, kind of block the people who pass by.” Mikey advised the Taylors while preparing his inks. “Definitely, want to ask your son to turn around.” As if that didn’t even need to be said to be understood.

Wendy answered “They are fine where they are Sir. Don’t you make your money if people watch you do one. They’ll want the same work?” She was secretly hoping a security guard WOULD come by, and stop this. Then maybe her teenage daughter would not end up making a decision about piercing and tattoos that will be with her for the rest of her life.

The family did not move, although Jamie was starting to have a few second thoughts about going through with it. Her mom couldn’t see that on her face, because she had her eyes shut, facing the opposite direction praying to end this quickly.

“You’ve got to pick some flash, do you want to put your skirt on, and look at some?” Mikey was still asking Wendy, clearly not noticing the power-shift in the family.

“That is up to Bill or Chris, whatever they want it to say.” Wendy said, trying to sound courageous and submissive at the same time.

“Ooh Dad, Can we do what she had on Monday night?” Chris sounded very excited. Chris is the type of guy that if a car was good, a car with flames painted on the side is better, and a car with MORE flames painted on the side is even better than that. Just like his sister, he also suffered from the impetuousness of youth that he really didn’t understand how extreme a tattoo like that could seem. It was just funny and spur of the moment to him.

Bill was dead set on his original choice “Cum dump” and had forgotten what they had written on her on Monday. They had taken to writing on the girl’s bodies things like “Sugar tits” and “Honk if you are horny.” Bill remembered what it was and decided that may be too obscene “I’d kind of like my idea, besides I don’t think the tattoo artist, wants to do something like that”.

Mikey looked up at Bill and called him the name the others had been “Dad, I’ve got three ex-wives who all want alimony or child support. I make my money because I do good tattoos quickly, and I don't try to sell a lot of extra bullshit or fill out pointless government forms. This is 'tween you and me. Fuck the people that own the fair, or the Government. They only get what I am willing to give them.” Mikey's tone might have sounded serious but he had a naturally jovial way of explaining things that didn't sound very subversive.

“The Tat I just did, that was my ex-old lady Crystal. I haven't seen her in ages, lives down the street from me. I comp'd that one for her. You are my first paying customer, which judging by the start of things, means I am in for an interesting and hopefully profitable weekend. You be cool to me, I'll bend over backwards to help you, my man!” Mikey sounded genuinely sincere that he'd help out anyone in need if he could.

His down to earth no nonsense attitude, put everyone at ease. Wendy had at first felt her heart jump up into her throat when she saw that this place did piercings. She thought fairs were just food and rides, but she saw they sold everything from motorcycle leathers to all that “As Seen on TV” wonder-gadgets that slice and dice, and chop and serve your food.

She kept silently telling herself this was a sign that one person belonged to the other. She did belong to Bill, but as his wife. Wendy realized the futility at continuing to consider the pros and cons of what she was doing. She had already agreed, she had already removed her skirt. This was it, she was going through with it. The butterflies in her stomach launched a full scale attack on her tummy. She couldn't see herself from behind, but she suspected, that her asshole had just puckered. She took small solace in the fact she wasn't currently spreading her cheeks wide enough that everyone else could see it happen.

“I don’t do Nazi stuff, but everything else is fair game.” Mikey reiterated his open-mindedness. “If its price you are worried about, hell, I’ll knock off a few bucks, just because this is hilarious.” He was genuinely amused by what he had seen so far. He didn't normally ramble like this to customers, but there wasn't a lot of foot traffic around and he liked them enough to share his passion about his art.

Chris liked this guy from the moment he met him, grinning at all his jokes. “What about if I wanted Hitler fighting Abraham Lincoln with lasers coming out of his eyes?” Chris asked without being serious. “In an ultimate cage match, also with dragons.” he added details.

“I guess it depends, is Hitler winning?” Mikey’s response, delivered with a smirk, put the kids at ease.

Wendy with her ass completely exposed was tense for obvious reasons, but Bill was uneasy himself. He cut off his son from continuing to price his epic tattoo “Well, you kind of have to hurry anyway, security guard may be coming by?”

It wasn’t clear if Bill was having second thoughts about going through with the tattoo, or if he was just disturbed at not automatically getting his choice of design. He didn't hate his wife and daughter, it wasn't as if he wanted to curse them for life with a tattoo.

He hadn't come into this with a game plan and he was starting to regret the cavalier attitude that he approached this with. He didn't want to appear wishy-washy, and say forget it. He just couldn't help but have doubts if he really wanted his daughter to do it. In his dreams the past week, his wife had his tattoo on her thigh, or ass or some place. A permanent reminder she was his.

Sure, he'd let her out of her payback once she earned the hundred stars. He had felt guilty at times about making them stick with the humiliations and service, but then he would tell himself that if he let them out of it early, THEY would see him as backsliding. He was going to see it through to the end. He was going to ride them like a hard ass, and dammit, he was going to have fun while he did it.

He had made up his mind. He wasn't going back and forth on whether his teenage daughter and wife should get a tattoo. He wanted his wife to get a tattoo, his idea was something fairly subtle, but made its point that she was his. Cumdump, his initials, Chris's idea, they would work for his purposes. If Wendy and Jamie agree to it, then it is on them.

Okay, dammit. He hadn't made up his mind, he admitted to himself.

“You know other than at the main entrance, where they've got a few BIG rent-a-cops, and there may be an actual city cops stationed,  I don’t even know if this fair has security. They are mostly interested in keeping out the riff raff. I've never really seen anything go down, that we need cops harshing everyone's buzz, patrolling inside the fair. If some tried to rip off a merchant, there is only one exit, and it's guarded.” Mikey was explaining.

I was just joking about that earlier. Time IS money, so make your minds up. I’ll look at your wife’s sweet ass all day, but I gotta charge.” He grinned looking down at the thin line separating her pear-like ass cheeks.

“How about you pick Jamie’s and I pick Wendy’s?” Bill offered to his son, not really paying attention to Mikey's point about fair security. He had to consider Chris's feelings. He had made him an equal partner in keeping the womenfolk in line, just as Chris had been an equal partner when they had to move out and live in that motel. Just like Chris had been an equal partner when they were both slaves themselves. It seemed only right then, that Chris had equal say.

Jamie asked nervously, almost as if she had to pee “I am kind of having doubts about the tattoo!” nervously fidgeting in place next to Chris.

Bill wasn't surprised. It was his wife he was interested in seeing tattooed. Jamie would be moving out and going on to her own life. Sure, one of his dreams involved the two of them living permanently at his feet. That was a dream. Jamie was a bright girl, with a bright future. If she wanted out of it, he'd let her. He made a mental note to seem reluctant, and make Jamie feel bad for quitting. He'd want to use that as advantage to get the piercings. THAT he wanted her to see. Jamie and Wendy with matching hoops. He had already begun going over scenarios in his mind where he tied them together by their piercings.

No one could see the satisfied look on Wendy‘s face as she heard her daughter say that. She thought her bluff  might not work, but it had and it made the butterflies that were currently slam dancing in her tummy, bring their activity to just under a small riot.

“The piercing I am game for” Jamie said without reservation.

“You can’t pussy out now, Sis.” Chris teased his sister, waving five stars. “Besides, who will see it once you get a hundred of these puppies? You won‘t have to drop trow on command!”

Jamie may have been naive, but she wasn’t entirely gullible. She didn’t take his obvious bait to entice her with five stars plus the three for the piercings.

All the while, Wendy’s ass was on display, straddling the tattoo artist’s chair.

“Chris, your sister is old enough she can make up her own mind. If she wants to. She may not be as brave as her Mom.” Bill really was having second thoughts about it now that he noticed people periodically peeking into the gazebo. A couple was just walking past, and as soon as the wife saw the hint of a bare female ass crack, she pulled her man by the shoulder and hustled him away.

Jamie was quiet. A tattoo of a star, or butterfly, there were girls in her school who had those already. She was still, to some extent, the ‘goody-goody play by the rules’ type she had been before this began. There was also a streak of impetuous youth running through her veins, sometimes very playful, like when she helped egg on Mrs. Waxerman’s belief they were all sinners and fornicators or when she had allowed herself to get caught up in dares that went too far. It’s impossible when you are young to realize you have that condition, until you get older and realize like everyone else at that age, you did.

They think their invincible at that age, until something bad happens and they cry, “I didn’t know, I didn’t know.”

This time though it wasn’t just brashness and youthful naiveté’. She was reacting to the conversation with her Mom in the back of her Dad’s truck. When her mom had accidentally revealed she had been fucking her co-worker because Bill insisted. Jamie didn’t know the extent of how far things had gone, but she felt a little betrayed. Betrayed may not be the right word, her trust in her mom to tell her everything was tarnished.

She also felt like maybe she was being coddled. She had agreed to the same rules as her mom, and now it was starting to dawn on her, that she was not being treated like an ‘equal’. She should have appreciated the protection she was being extended, but given that she had just learned these things about her mom, she wanted to prove some sort of point.

“Yes, I’ll do it, but it has to be EXACTLY what Mom has, deal? We agreed to do this together. Same rules.” Her response surprising Bill and even Chris who assumed his sister would back out on the tattoo at the last minute.

Bill had just done reverse psychology on his daughter, playing bad cop/good cop with his son. He couldn’t help but feel self-satisfaction at that accomplishment, even if he hadn’t intended it.

Bill started to remember when the girls were in charge. Wendy would act like a stickler about some rule, and then Jamie would try to ask for leniency. Working together, they’d make him feel like he must be some kind of wimp if he couldn’t do it and damned if he didn’t WANT to do it, after that. He felt like such a fool he hadn’t even realized he’d been hoodwinked by two manipulative cunts until he‘d had a chance to look back on what happened.

“That’s fine then, but no more back and forth, are you abso-positively-fucking sure, you won’t change your mind another time?“ Bill himself was uncertain if a tattoo for his daughter was a good idea, having only really wanted her pierced with hoop rings like her Mom. He was surprised either of them were actually considering the tattoos. In his wildest imaginings, he really had not pictured either of them for the tattoo types.

His wife had a small heart on her ankle, something from college days, but that was years ago and completely discrete. She at least had some idea what the needle felt like. It was show time for Bill. He’d put the decision out there for Jamie. If she was going to say yes, he was going to hold her to it, but he hated to admit to himself, he was hoping she’d back down.

“Yes Sir, I am sure.” Jamie was positive, remembering her conversation in the truck about Steve. She had no idea that was all part of a deal her mom made to keep her from experiencing the rougher stuff. Right now, it was more about proving she wasn’t a meek little girl.

“Let’s flip a coin, head’s she gets mine, tails they get what you want on her tail?” Bill made a pun, suggesting they flip to decide what matching design to go with.

“I’ve just got ones and tens, who carries around coins?” Chris didn’t want to walk back to the arcade to get change. “How about Rock-paper-scissors-lizard-Spock?” Bill had no idea what his son was talking about.

“It is like Rock-paper-scissors, but includes two additional weapons: the lizard” Chris formed his hand into a sock puppet and made a ‘hiss’ noise opening his snake to slither. Spock, making the universal “Live long and prosper” greeting to show the second new option.

“It’s simple,  Scissors cut paper,  Paper covers rock, Rock crushes lizard, Lizard poisons Spock, Spock smashes scissors, Scissors decapitate lizard,  Lizard eats paper, Paper disproves Spock, Spock vaporizes rock, Rock crushes scissors” shocking everyone with his rapid recitation of all the possible outcomes from memory.

“How is it you can’t remember school work, but you can remember all that?” Bill asked.

“If it’s something I like, I am all over it!” Chris smiled proudly.

“Uh guys, for every five minutes you waste of my time, I am going to charge you five bucks.” the tattoo artist was ready to go, having prepared the skin and his inks, and he was ready to get to it. He didn’t like to post price lists, preferring to base his price on how he felt at the time about the customer. Right now, he really liked this family of possible Jerry Springer guests, he just wanted them to make their mind up.

Bill agreed, with a “Whatever” shrug and made a fist symbolizing rock. That was a natural choice for him, since he valued strength and was getting just a little bit frustrated.

Chris flattened his palm for paper, and shouted “Winner!” with glee, holding his hands up in a “V”

“If you weren’t going to throw Spock or lizard, why did you add those?” Bill asked with a confused look.

“Each gesture beats two of the other gestures and is beaten by two. It increases the number of possible outcomes, but all of my friends always put up Spock, so I usually win, because paper disproves Spock. But it also covers rock!”

“All of your friends WOULD throw Spock.” Jamie mumbled to herself. Secretly wondering if kids still ran away to join the circus, and daydreaming if her like would be any less freak show.

“Fine, tell him what you want.” Bill conceded defeat, wondering where his son got his twisted sense of humor.

Chris pointed to elaborate medieval script calligraphy, and told him “WH” on the left cheek, “RE” on the right cheek.

“Where?” Mikey guessed he was spelling “WHERE”

“On her Ass.”

“No, I know where you want the tattoo, I’ve been admiring those honey hams for five minutes while you make up your mind.. I mean, what do the letters mean, your initials or something?” Mikey asked

“There is a natural O in the center.” Chris hinted.

“Okay, yeah that is twisted.” Mikey said, pushing his ink away, and standing up.

Wendy was excited, resting her chin on the top of the padded client chair, she hadn’t seen what was going on, but she had been listening intently. She breathed a small sigh of relief, and started to turn around.

“I’ve got to get my Polaroid if you don’t mind.” Mikey smiled. “I want to put this in my artist book. I love the way your son thinks. The O is the center.” he was laughing as he rifled through a cardboard box to dig out a camera.

“One time, I had a guy come in and wanted something similar, when I was working in a place on the west coast. He wanted his fiancé ‘Wendy‘s name on his dick, as a present for their honeymoon.”

“Hey, my wife’s name is Wendy!” Bill smiled.

“Yeah, I am not sure if she was the same girl” Mikey continued his story not letting Bill‘s coincidence interrupt him, “When his dick shrunk up at half mast, all you could see was the first letter “W” and the last letter “Y”. So they are on their honeymoon in Jamaica and he has to take a piss while they are at the beach. He is standing there at the Urinal, you know, and a black guy comes in  and stands right next to him. As guys do, they sometimes check out the guy next to him” all the while, embellishing the story by acting it out.

And as he is acting out the story, Wendy’s bare ass is on display for  the people who pass by, and dare to look. Very few stay, some giggle and one creepy guy in the background hadn’t stopped looking since before the joke began.

“So anyway, he says to the man next to him, “Oh, is your wife named Wendy too?” and lets him see the WY tattoo I gave him”, Mikey becomes very amused with his own joke as he delivers the punch line “No Mon” in a Jamaican accent “Welcome to Jamaica Man Have a Nice DaY!” pantomiming a dick sprouting to enormous proportions and emphasizing that it starts and begins with WY.

He begins laughing, and even though this didn’t seem like an appropriate joke to tell in mixed company, coming from a tattoo artist who looks like a biker at a county fair, in this situation it seemed exactly appropriate. His laughter is the kind, most people find hard not to laugh along with and all four, even Wendy chuckled.

“Can I make the O more pronounced, or don’t you want to go there?” Mikey asked Chris no longer bothering to check with Wendy. He set his Polaroid down, and got back on his stool, wiping sweat from his brow. The night was becoming slightly more humid and muggy, as it got darker.

Chris’s response might have included requests for wildebeests and mystical eyed virgins, space ships and cats, but he genuinely trusted Mikey’s opinion of what would be best, and all he said in response was “If you think it will look cool.”

“Oh trust me, man.” Mikey promised and he began to work on Wendy’s ass, the tiny needles biting into her flesh. “This is going to be some of my best work!”

“You sure you want your daughter to get this tattoo too?” he started to make conversation with Wendy, as he let the needles bite into her flesh, spreading their ink as he moved them with precision.

She was beginning to get a hot, scratchy feeling, but it wasn’t as bad as any of the spankings she had received in the past week. The pain was barely noticeable. She’d  gone through getting tattooed before, but it was tiny and on her ankle. Nothing remotely as humiliating as this, so she wasn‘t sure what to expect pain wise. She suspected all the paddling on her ass, this past week had actually toughened her up.

“If she wants WHAT I‘ve got coming to me, and Bill and Chris, say it is okay, who am I to tell her no, Sir?” Wendy’s hidden context was meant more as a hidden message to her daughter, although it was lost on Mikey that when she said “WHAT”, she may have been including more than the tattoo in that sentiment.

“True, true. Whoever is paying for it, has the final say. These days, if you forbid them from getting something, they’ll just jab a needle through their nose in the school bathroom, or get a friend to tattoo them up with home-made ink.” he agreed. He was outlining the W in black, going over his lines to shade and add embellishments. There was no turning back now. She would have at least an 8-inch high “WHORE” written on her ass and she had already begun the process.

Mikey asked questions about if the family lived locally, revealing that he traveled 9 months out of the year, but didn’t live too far from this fair himself. He tried to sound interested in what they had to say, but he was just making small talk to try to put his patient at ease so she wouldn‘t move. It was obvious once he got into his work, his attention was 99.99% on his drawing, and never taking his eyes or fingers off Wendy’s left ass cheek to make the first two letters of WHORE.

“If I could just move you a little this way?” Mikey gingerly guided her crack slightly apart. Wendy said nothing, she was retreating to some place in her own mind, and much like the first woman had when they walked up, oblivious to her surroundings and the people watching.

“If you need to pull those ham hocks apart, do what you got to do,” Bill instructed of his wife’s ample, well-rounded ass cheeks.

“I am a Gentleman!” Mikey didn’t stop his lettering as he explained, “I always ask a girl BEFORE I butt fuck her, if I can stick it in her pooper.” laughing gregariously at his own dirty joke.

It didn’t matter if he’d been given permission or not, as the job wore on, he became more comfortable shifting her around. He Paused only now and then to dab away a little blood from the wounds, or droplets of sweat that fell from his brow.

Just as Mikey had entered his own personal world, completely focused on the job at hand, Wendy had retreated into hers. She wanted to cry, but at the same time the fact that she could feel the letters literally being etched into her skin gave her a melancholy emptiness, that she’d turned a corner that she can’t turn around from. ‘It’s going to be on my ass for the rest of my life‘, she thought to herself unable to cry, unable to speak, as she wrestled with the feeling she had just crossed a line she can’t come back from.

When he began to work on her tender asshole, this is where Jamie started to cry. No one could see the tears dripping down her face, not even Mikey. Had he seen them, he might not have said, “It is a shame to get rid of all this natural pink. I am going to burnish the O with some cocks with ribbons on them, really accentuate the asshole so that it could also be a flower, with petals going in all directions.” Adding, “In the context of the other letters, it’s still going to be whore” he patted her on the bottom, as if to reassure her that no one would misunderstand her intention.

The needle buzzing was constant, like a mosquito, and on her ass cheeks, it hadn’t hurt so much. It was exquisite pain, like a thousand paper cuts on the ultra-sensitive asshole nerve endings right at the bud of the hole. She moved every now and then, but Mikey held her firm with his forearm, so she couldn’t shift too much.

She hated to admit, that had Chris not flicked her and thwacked her with a rod so often directly on the asshole (sometimes for an hour), she would not be prepared to endure this pain. “Wendy is a survivor, Wendy will get through this.” She told herself as she tried to block out the pain and humiliation without success. She had gone through two natural childbirths, she assumed she could stand anything.

Other than some tears and regrets, she WAS standing it! Bill was impressed. So were Jamie and Chris, although they didn’t have direct knowledge of what it must feel like, they couldn’t help but feel a certain amount of confidence.

After all, their mom was getting a tattoo this way. She was the most grounded one in the family, with the most common sense. Her getting hers first, was adding legitimacy to it, making it seem ‘normal’ for lack of a better word.

The nighttime was working in their favor, as darkness fell upon the fair it made it more difficult for a passerby to see what was happening in the gazebo. They would have to be standing right at the gazebo to see in. The fair has so many other flashing, blinking lights, that the lamp Mikey used to illuminate his work hardly caught people’s eye, and he hadn’t turned on his flashing neon sign above his gazebo.

This didn’t make them invisible, obviously. People would casually walk up, just seeing three people staring intently inside the gazebo was enough to draw some folk’s attention. Most of the time, it would be a lone male, standing with his jaw slightly open, titillated that he was looking at a woman’s bare ass cheeks. Usually once they figured out the tattoo spelled “WHORE” or if Chris said something goofy to them like, “See a line, stand in it, maybe it goes some place.” the enchantment spell would be broken and they’d wander off, slightly embarrassed or amused by what they just witnessed.

The creepy guy who had been standing in the background for almost ten minutes now, was true to his name. He was ‘creeping up’ on the scene in a roundabout way, trying to seem discrete but making no secret he was staring into the gazebo. He was almost right behind Bill by this point.

He was an awkwardly tall man, with a mustache that may be covering his cleft pallet. To Jamie, he looked like the kind of guy central casting would call when filming a movie and they needed a creepy guy to play someone who abducts people in his white van.

Bill didn’t notice him for a while, but eventually all three of the Taylor’s watching their mother get a tattoo of “WHORE” on her ass had taken note of him and even commented to each other that he was staring.

“See anything you like?” Bill asked the man behind him, while keeping his own eyes straight ahead, trained on his wife‘s keister.

The man said nothing, perhaps not realizing Bill was talking to him, so Bill let it go. He was slightly amused that they had picked up a ‘fan’. As long as the creepy guy wasn’t running to security, or screaming, Bill was happy for someone to witness this. After all, Wendy’s ass tattoo had marked her, he had won! He owned that whore! He thought to himself with a sadistic grin.

With the ink freshly applied, and final dabs of his sponge made, Mikey drew his hand back, looked over his shoulder at Bill to see if he protested. “I’ve got to set the ink, or it won’t last!” and gave Wendy a hard slap on the ass causing her butt to jiggle. Chris laughed, even Jamie was amused, because the shock had made Wendy suddenly take a deep breath, as if she were waking from a dream.

“You better do a few more, I want this ink to last.” Bill said quite seriously.

“I won’t even charge you extra, since you are a two-for-one customer!” Mikey smiled, giving her another hard slap on the other ass cheek.

“Is Ten too many?” Chris asked playfully. By now, Mikey was well past wondering why her son was so amused by all this or making decisions for her.

“I’ve never had that request before, but I could oblige” and Mikey started to spank Wendy hard, under the Gazebo lights.

Wendy realizing what was happening “Three, Thank You Sir, may I have another,” which Mikey took to be her playing along with his fun, counting each one up to ten.

“Not bad! You’ve got a lot of heft, for future reference, her legs should be wide spread so you can reach the inside of her thighs  If you need to give her a lot of strokes, her ass will go numb if you just pound on the cheeks.”

“I will remember that, thanks.” Mikey said pleased with the stinging he just gave his latest customer’s ass.

“May I put back on my skirt, Sir?” Wendy asked her husband.

“I am not tired of seeing the new tattoo I just paid 25 bucks for, you tired of seeing it yet, Chris?” his son nodded that he obviously wasn’t. “How about you creepy guy?” Bill asked the silent stranger in a bemused tone.

As before, the creepy guy didn‘t answer, he just stared. “I’ll take your silence as a yes vote. Three males vote yes, and both girls get no vote, so it is unanimous. Chris will hold your skirt, while Jamie gets her turn.” Bill announced in an officiating manner.

“Usually, I let my customers decide if they want to use antibiotics or creams. I am more of a volume kind of a guy, I don’t try to sell anyone anything.” Mikey said while using his forearm to steady Wendy before she backed up off the foam chair.

“This is bacitracin. Apply a light layer of this 1-3 times a day for a few weeks.”

“Can you go ahead and give her enough of a layer to last for all night, we may be here for a while.” Bill asked.

“Oh you want me to apply it?”

“Creepy, would YOU like to apply it?” Bill answered Mikey by asking the creepy stranger who offered back no response at all.

Wendy wanted to say something sexy and submissive about letting whoever wants the job, to do it. She was afraid her voice would crack. She could not see the tattoo but she ’felt’ its presence. It weighed on her, she could imagine it in bright letters. WHORE.

Mikey applied the cream, massaging it into her ass cheeks, and all around her asshole with his rough hands. “Oh the things I do for art.” he consoled himself with a grin.

When he had glazed her entire ass with the cream as thickly as he thought Bill wanted. She backed off the sweaty artist’s chair, her boobs having left an impression in his foam rubber cushions like two bowling balls. Her fingers showed imprints where she had dug them into the foam on the side of the chair to suppress her pain.

Jamie was having second thoughts about the entire ordeal, once she had seen the initial blood. It was very light, but it had been intimidating to see during the inking. She was no quitter, but she was also sharing her mother’s nervous butterflies, a feeling that only increased in intensity with every second ticking towards her turn.

Reluctantly walking into the gazebo through a small door in the back, she stood next to her skirtless mother who was trying hard not to rub the tattoo and the sticky ointment awaiting instructions for what to do next.

“I don’t want to be Sergeant Buzz kill, but I feel really weird about someone standing over me while I try to work.”

“Wendy, he doesn’t want you standing, you know what that means?” Bill said.

Wendy was not sure what it meant. She made up her mind very quickly that it must not mean standing, so before she could be told, she answered, “Yes Sir, I do.”

Getting down on the cement sidewalk the gazebo rested upon, with her forehead pressed to the ground, much the way she did in the enema position Mrs. Waxerman had taught them. Using her knees to prop her ass above her head, she reached behind herself and pulled her ass cheeks apart. “Is that better, Sir?”

Mikey, Chris and Bill answered, “Yes” simultaneously, the only absent voice was the creepy stranger, although his eyes followed her every move.

As overly exposed as she was, unless one was standing right at the counter, you couldn’t see her.

“I’ve got just the thing!” Mikey took a magic marker and wrote “TIP$” on an index card, setting it in front of a hat resting in between Wendy’s calves. It was a joke, he didn’t really expect tips, but he wouldn’t have refused them either.

“You are all a trip!” Mikey observed smiling, looking at the beautiful teenage girl who was standing there nervously, apparently unsure what to do with her hands. She seemed so pure and angelic. Mikey knew those were the best bad girls, at least the ones in his fantasies were. He decided not to share that observation with the young girl whose stares seem to demand he be reassuring.

“No pockets, I see?” He teased trying to put her mind at rest, addressing her apparent nervous fidgeting. “Welcome to the Spider’s Parlor, I don’t suppose you have a high pain threshold?”

Jamie answered “Yes, it‘s high.” bravely. She had endured beatings all week, and the worst pain she had ever experienced.

“Liar, you piss your pants when you get a real paddling!” Chris corrected, amused with his Sister’s nervous awkwardness, a feeling he could relate to all too well.

“Nuh-uh, you know I don’t wear pants.” Jamie stuck her tongue out at her brother playfully. She wanted her stars, and she knew to get them, she’d have to play along. It felt very natural to go back and forth that way.

Without further instruction, she pulled her suspenders to the side of her shoulders, letting them flap down below her waist. They were not holding her skirt up anyway, they were just decorative. Then she shimmied out of the skirt, entirely revealing a completely shaved, perfect little pussy.

Without any prompting, she lifted her half shirt with both of her hands over her head, pulling off her shirt, revealing her pert, well rounded tits and cherry pink nipples standing fully erect, the excitement of the moment, having made them stand up on their own.

“Those are extra pink!” Chris observed.

“I rouged them before I came tonight, Sir” Jamie admitted to her brother, knowing full well he had ordered her and her mother to apply a little make up to accentuate the color of their nipples.

“I like it, kind of neon, goes with the gaudiness of the fair.” Chris commented. “I could probably tattoo them permanently that color.”

Bill folded his arms “Next time!”, his body language saying impatient, his voice saying he was riveted to the outcome.

“I am glad you approve of my titties, will you hold my clothes, Sir?” she asked trying to sound brave answering her brother, and hoping she didn’t come across distant and uncaring. She handed Chris her clothes, which he gladly accepted.

“I was actually just going to have you lift up your shirt, while I do the breasts, before doing your clit ring.” Pointing out she had not needed to strip fully naked. Mikey’s tone caught half between amused, and a tone of voice that sounded like ‘sucks to be you’. Glancing down at her mother holding her ass cheeks apart, “You guys are from Candid Candid Camera?”

Jamie had no idea what he was asking, and shook her head, “No Sir”

“This guy is Elmer Fudd” Chris giggled, at the silent creepy stranger, whose expression never changed. He was staring at the two women in the gazebo as if he were hypnotized .

“Elmer Funt” Bill corrected, “It Rhymes with Cunt, like your Mother and Sister”. Not wanting to sound particularly sadistic, “And if you drop the T, it’s Fun…like your Mother and Sister” turning his insult into a type of joke.

“It’s just… I kind of think you guys are putting me on here.” Mikey had been so caught up in his work he had not scanned the midway of customers. He was surprised to see that for an opening Thursday there was a light turn out. It was still early yet, and he had been saddled with an out of the way stand placement.

Mikey noted people walking past, couples with baby carriages, old women, kids, but no one paid much attention to the quiet, slightly dark gazebo. He could have turned on his neon light, and probably brought more people to the spectacle. Instead, he left it off, curious where this was all going.

An old man, with a monkey balancing on a mobile wooden perch was 20 feet away. All the foot traffic passing down through the fair’s byzantine like maze of pathways would be much more focused on the goofy monkey, than wondering about a dark gazebo. Kid s stopping to hand a quarter to the monkey to see what it would do.

Chris for his part, split his attention 50/50. Monkey, then Sister, Sister, then Monkey. Sometimes back to his mother’s shiny ass, reflecting the light from the distant Ferris wheel in the glossy ointment, which made her ass luminescent with a light sheen to it.

“Let’s get the show on the road.” Mikey sized up the possibility he’d get thrown out of this fair as he rubbed his hands together with soap and water in a bucket he had for that purpose. “I’ve been thrown out of fairs before, it wouldn’t be the first, and it won't be the last.” He told himself, directing the teen girl to sit back on the foam chair, facing forward and looking up at his single overhead light.

“You are all knees and elbows, so tall and thin.” Mikey noted about Jamie’s body. He was way too old, fat, and bald to flirt with girls her age, but part of his art as a tattoo artist was to make first time recipients less nervous.

“It may help if you shut your eyes.” He said, opening an igloo cooler he stashed his beer in, to get some ice cubes.

She did, but he caught her peaking. “Up, caught you peaking… Dad, okay to blindfold?” Mikey asked her father after he spotted her trying to see what was happening to her.

“Okay to handcuff if you need too, she agreed to it, I’ve paid for it, just get her done.” Bill smiled patiently, laying down 50 bucks on the table. The price Mikey was charging was a steal for the work he was doing.

“GIT-R-DUNN!” Mikey answered his affirmation in a fake thick country accent, reminiscent of Larry the Cable Guy. Chris was amused the most by this guy’s joke and asked his Dad if he could have an earring too.

“Yah, sure.” Mikey answered before Bill could respond. “On the house, bro.”

Chris reached his fist out to Mikey, and as Mikey returned it, Chris offered his signature “Bro’s before Ho’s” catch phrase.

Bill didn’t care if Chris got an earring or not, his “Dad DNA” was starting to kick in. Something primal that made him more uneasy with his daughter’s nudity aside from her cat collar bell, and heels. With Wendy, he hadn’t felt as protective. He was scanning behind him, surprised himself that the law hadn’t come. To ordinary passers-by, this probably seemed like an innocuous booth, and they would never guess there were two almost completely naked women inside it. What reason would anyone have to think there was? It would be like guessing you have gremlins living in your cupboard.

Mikey had tied an old piece of cloth around Jamie’s eyes, which made him feel less like a pervert as he used ice on her nipples to get them numb and hard. He was glad he wasn’t standing, because he was completely hard. He wasn’t usually turned on by the jobs he did, but this was not one of his usual jobs.

“I am going to do the first nipple, can you keep moving this piece of ice around the other, while I set it?”

“Yes Sir.”

“I did a nice Monroe piercing for a girl about your age, a few weeks ago” Mikey said while he fidgeted through a box looking for something to use to pierce her nipple. “You know what that is?”

“No sir, I don’t.” Jamie wasn’t lying at all.

“It’s a lip piercing placed off-center, above the upper lip on the left hand like Marilyn Monroe's beauty spot.” he told her finally fishing out what he was looking for “A 14 gauge barbell, perfect complement to nipples as pretty as yours.”

“Is it exactly like Mom’s?” she said reaching for the blindfold to check.

“Jamie Taylor, you stay right there, hands down at your side. In fact, spread your legs apart, so he can have better access when he does the clit piercing. Keep your hands busy, hold your ankles, as FAR out and away from your body as possible” Bill said seriously.

“Actually, I won’t be ready for that for a few minutes.” But Jamie had already pulled her very limbered legs wide apart. Her hands as far out to her sides as possible, holding her ankles, sitting like she was doing a split, except resting on her butt. A position Chris favored a lot.

“Hello!” Mikey said out loud in shock, as he turned back from Bill, and saw Jamie’s perfectly thin cunt lips parted, as she remained in that vulnerable position. “Okay, yeah that works too. Whatever is comfortable.” He rolled his eyes, wondering if anyone would believe this story. “You do gymnastics?”

“Cheerleading, Sir”

“Of course, cheerleading.” Mikey sighed, fishing around for white hoops similar to what he had noted when he had a brief glance directly at the mother’s clit protruding slightly between her cleanly shaven pussy lips.

“You want them set extra high or back towards the base?”

“How is it for my mother?” Jamie replied before her father could answer for her.

“I am honestly, not trying to sound like a pervert here.” Mikey swallowed, having gone from Gregarious to a man who was actually starting to get intimidated by the situation. “Even though I am a Pervert” He admitted with a sly smile. “But I didn’t actually get a look at the gauge of your Wife’s rings, does she have the exact same ones on her breasts?” he asked Bill while looking down at the woman on his floor.

“Show him please, Wendy?” Bill instructed.

“Happily, Sir.” Wendy got to her knees, and looking straight at her daughter with a look that screamed, “I tried to warn you not to do this.” She removed her shirt, and stood up cautiously looking over the counter.

“Bashful?” Chris asked of his mother who had moments before been parting her sticky ass cheeks.

“Not at all, Sir. I just didn’t want to offend anyone. Do you mind holding my shirt, Sir?” she offered Chris the shirt she had on.

By this time Mikey had moved beyond the good sense to tell her all she had to do was tell him what size she wore, or that she could put the shirt right back on. It was obvious she wanted to be naked too as far as he was concerned. She turned to face Mikey, with her hands resting on the small of her back, pushing her tits out.

“Ashton Kutcher is going to jump out of the bushes and tell me I am on punk’d, right?” Mikey said to ease the tension and awkwardness he was feeling than in any kind of serious question while taking in her tits. They were perfect specimens. The doctor who did the implants had got the symmetry and the hang right; natural enough not to seem fake, but too perfect and round not to seem natural.

“Yeah, this guy is Ashton Kunt-cher” Bill indicated with his thumb at the creepy stranger, having absolutely no regard for his feelings. He was starting to assume the man was mentally retarded, standing motionless watching the spectacle put on by Wendy and Jamie, like a devout Christian drawn to a living nativity scene on Christmas night, watching every detail in silent awe and wonder.

“Those Tits are spectacular, I can see why you aren‘t shy about showing them to strangers.” Mikey said, having no idea that Wendy wasn‘t an extrovert. “I’ve got a 14 gauge hoop, but it’s gold, will that do?” He asked Bill, once he’d drank in the sight of Wendy’s well hung rack. He filed a mental image away for later as masturbation material.

“Is it exactly the same as my Mom’s?” Jamie repeated her concern, answering for herself.

“In this light,” Mikey made a show of lifting Wendy’s nipple ring and observing it, “yes, it is.”

“Daddy, please.” Jamie pouted. Bill did not know why it was so important to her for it to be the same, he hadn’t been privy to the earlier conversations. As far as he was concerned, she was just stalling the inevitable.

“Don’t try to manipulate me, I’ve already paid the man, now sit just like that, be a big girl, and swallow your god-damned medicine.” Bill was gruff.

“You’ll have two nipple rings, a cunt ring, and a belly ring that is one MORE than Mom.” Chris offered trying to be helpful.

“I’m going to need you to flick them and keep using ice before I put the clamp down. To get them as high set as your mom’s rings, they have to be fully extended. It’ll be like you are permanently hard.” Mikey’s brow was dripping sweat, as he realized he too was sporting wood in his pants.

Jamie still blindfolded, holding her legs apart and out from her body by the ankles, could feel herself starting to cry, the guilt of being exposed this way, the idea of what she was doing, and on top of it, her desire to be treated the same as her mother not being respected. Her meek voice begged “Can we get the hoops later?”

“Oh sure, honey, any hot topic in the mall, has big, fat cheapo hoops like your Mom has in.” Mikey answered the question intended for Bill and Chris.

“These are not white gold, Sir?” Wendy distinctly heard the guy who did her boobs say white gold and she wanted to get confirmation they were not.

“That is what I’d call Puerto Rican gold by the look of it, probably turn green before too long. I wouldn’t suggest having them in very long.” The tattoo artist said dismissing it as of no consequence. Mikey knew quality stainless steel was the way to go, but his customers didn’t come to him for ‘quality’. As far as he was concerned, it was up to them if they wanted cheap stuff. “The customer is always right” he smiled.

Wendy was stunned that she had been lied too. “May I go back on the floor, Sir?” Wendy wanted to crawl into a deep dark hole and stay there, the lovey-dovey feelings of earlier having been washed away.

She was already getting back into position as Bill asked, “Why do you want to be on your knees on the floor?”

“I want you to be able to admire the tattoo you bought for me.” She didn’t look at her daughter, but she meant the next part for her, “And for your daughter.”

Her words sliced like a knife through Jamie, which at that exact moment, the first needled clamp sliced through her extra hard, ice-cold nipple, causing her to cry out like a stuck pig.

“Jamie, unless you want a big crowd around, I’d suggest you stifle yourself.”

“I am sorry, I couldn’t help it, Sir.” Jamie admitted, as Mikey moved to her left nipple to repeat the process.

“Mikey, I hate to ask you this, but do you have something back there, you could shove in her mouth to gag her with? As much fun as it is to stand here with Uncle Creepy.” Bill referred to the quiet stranger, “I’d rather not bring over all those kids getting off the rides, thinking there is a petting zoo of squealing piglets back there.”

“Are you guys like into BDSM?” Mikey finally asked, using “like” was something Jamie was forbidden to do, because she overused the idiom. Even hearing someone else say it, put her on edge that her nipples were about to be twisted while someone asks her “Is this like, you know, like, hurting, how do you like, like it?” mocking her bad habit.

“I guess so.” Bill knew the term, and had jerked off to a lot of the pornography in that category. The helpless women, the submission, it had turned him on, their powerlessness. He had not studied the philosophies of it, beyond what he had used to help him write his rules that he found on the internet.

“I KNEW it, with all the Sirs, and what not. My Aunt and Uncle back in Pittsburgh were into it. They used to get the newsletter and everything. I didn’t know entire families did it.”

“Your Aunt and Uncle were a family.” Chris played Devil’s advocate.

“Touché’, but their kids were grown. I guess it’s possible, all in the family, right?” Mikey laughed. “If you can slap one family member’s ass, why not all of them?” He tried not to think too hard about what he just said, holding up a red, rubber ball he dug out of a trash can. “I could wash this off, one of the carnies kept throwing it over here, and I kept whipping it back at him, until I got bored of it. It looks about mouth sized.”

Chris took the ball and sniffed it, “Sis open your mouth, it’s been washed off.” She dutifully opened her mouth wide, with the blindfold on she couldn’t tell what Chris was actually puttine in her mouth but she trusted him.

Chris threw the ball at his naked sister, hitting her in the chest, and it rolled off, while she flinched but held herself wide open at the ankles.

“Care to try again, three balls, and if you make one in, I’ll give you a razzle dazzle rag in a bag, which you can trade up for a slightly larger genuine razzle dazzle rag in a bag, what do you say there, everyone is a winner!!” Mikey put on his best imitation of a fast-talking carnie who just happened to talk like Edward G. Robinson while hawking his game.

The second time Chris pitched the rubber ball with all his might directly at his sisters very pink and exposed pussy, causing it to bounce off with a satisfying “pop” and ricochet around the gazebo. She did not have time to flinch until well after the impact.

“Chris, would you stop fucking around and let the man finish.” Bill announced. He was annoyed but also amused. His son secretly cracked him up at times. This was one of those times. “Wendy, get the ball and gag your daughter, then get back in position as quickly as possible.”

Without hesitation, Wendy sprang into action. “Yes Sir” as she located the rubber ball resting on the chalky cement floor, without even checking to see who was watching, rose up to counter level. Her hand forced her daughter’s mouth open slightly wedging the ball in between her perfect set of teeth. Then with a conservation of motion, Wendy was back into her position in the same spot on the floor, pulling her own ass cheeks apart even wider, if that was possible, than before, careful to mind the tip basket, that had been placed in jest.

“I was going to get a together shot of my tattoo work on them both for my book of work.” Mikey admitted savoring how Jamie looked, breathing in as if his other senses might take in the same perfection as his eyes. “As perfectly helpless as she looks, with the blindfold, and the rubber gag, would it be an imposition to take a few polaroids of this?”

“Help yourself!” Bill smiled, while Mikey began taking a few shots of his daughter. She was grunting under the gag, no doubt caused by very tiny bits of gravel from the floor mixed with her saliva.

Bill and Chris had taped Jamie many times, with the expectation they would bury the tapes. The reality was the past week had been guys (and some girls, Cathy Griffin most of all) had taken candid snaps on their cell phones at various points when she exposed herself. They were probably all over face book and different websites that featured those kinds of amateur flashing shots. The ones saving those photos to their computers and recirculating them never realizing or caring that behind her all-American wholesome girl smile, she wasn’t doing this just for attention.

“Hush, or you’ll take that ball with you for the rest of the fair.” Bill was not making an idle threat.

The second pinch to her titty wasn’t as bad as the first, and in fact happened much faster than the first.

Her belly button was over in a snap. She felt a hot sensation, and imagined the dangling tassel that was now a part of her body. She could see nothing, she wanted desperately to touch it. Instead, she forced herself to focus on keeping her legs wide apart, by the ankle.

The darkness of the blindfold was supposed to be for her benefit, make this easier to endure. All it managed to do was give her a vision of being surrounded by hundreds of fair goers, friends, classmates, relatives, and neighbors around the gazebo staring at her and laughing at her. She tried as she could to remove the image from her mind, but the more she tried the bigger the crowd got, the more hysterical their laughter.

While Jamie was day dreaming her nightmare scenario, unable to see or talk, no one else was feeling the same sense of urgency. There was a calm, collected vibe around the gazebo, although Jamie had gone some place mentally where her pulse was quickened, her heart was racing, and her humiliation was at its ultimate limit.

Back in the real world, Mikey calmly asked, “You say she is 18 correct?” to reassure himself, or perhaps even to stall a little, before moving to the clit ring.

“I do indeed.” Bill lied without hesitation. She was close enough as far as he was concerned.

“Even so, I feel a little uncomfortable. Her pussy is what I call an “innie”. I don’t want to reach in and pull it inside out and her hands are occupied.” Mikey explained his situation delicately, about to suggest her dad let the girl flick her clit so he could mount the hood ring a little higher.

“Wendy, get up off your lazy ass and hold your daughter’s clit so this man can drive a hoop through it.” Bill said in a dry deadpan way, as if he were asking her to take out the garbage or pick up his dry cleaning.

Wendy let out a laugh, which felt more like a dry heave. The complete absurdity of the situation, was bringing her back to how she felt when she was overtired at Rahjid’s motel and had spent the night as his prostitute. Something she had managed to block out and put behind her. Not entirely behind her, and it was coming back to the surface now.

She swallowed the bitter bile that rose up in her throat, and answered her husband. “Yes Sir” she got up not making the mistake of looking out at the fair. This way she wouldn’t have to realize that twenty feet away people were buying snow cones and corn on the cob if she simply didn‘t look. She presented herself to Mikey “What would you like me to do, Sir?”

“Well, fish her clit hood out.” Mikey adjusted his plan accordingly “Pinch it, flick it, rub ice on it, and get it extra hard. If I want to set her hoop like yours, she is going to go from an innie to an outie.

Wendy did as she was told, stimulating her daughter’s hood with her finger, massaging it and adjusting it until it was elongated and puffy. The effect caused one person to moan. It may have even been Uncle Creepy, who had been silent at this point, no one could be sure.

All eyes were on the Mother teasing, tapping, toying with her daughter’s helpless wide-open cunt, to get it hard.

“Is it hard enough, Sir?”

“It IS hard enough.” Mikey said as if his eyes had glazed over and he was in a trance, speaking about his own dick. Then he pretended to come out of hypnosis and give a critical look to Jamie’s pussy. He said with reluctance “If you want it like yours, you are going to have to not be as gentle. I’d do it for you, but I think that guy over there.” getting in on the joke, by referring to the quiet creepy man, “is Chris Hanson”.

“My daughter wants the hoop to ride as high as mine in her cunt, because she wants the same experience as me.” Wendy reiterated what had already been said, as she evaluated in her mind what that really means.

Jamie was actually shaking her head no back and forth, still tightly holding her ankles out from her body. She couldn’t allow herself to orgasm like this. This wasn’t how she masturbated, unusually stroking with one finger inwardly. Her clit being pulled out, was a bit like having your mouth held open and your tongued pulled out just past as far as you think you can extend it, pushed into some vanilla ice cream cake. It was an indescribable kind of tease, that also tormented.

“Would it help if I licked her clit, and used my spit, nibbled at it, to make it stand up, Sir?” Wendy was being as seductive as she knew how, and could feel a new sensation. The power of having every ounce of attention from all the men, clouded her thoughts on the matter of “wants the same experience as me,” as her answer right then was “give it to her!”

“It couldn’t hurt.” Mikey answered like a little boy who had just been offered pancakes with syrup for dinner.

Wendy, having never been asked to actually lick her daughter’s cunt, had her nose pushed up against it, had touched it, shaved it, pulled it apart, put lotion on it many times in the last week. She had NEVER gone down on her daughter yet. She had not even gone down on another woman except in college, and she preferred never to think about it. That was back in the 1980s when hairy beavers were the norm. The thought of wading through all that hair to get to a salty, pissy beaver sickened her. Why then was she considering going down on her daughter's peach like mound.

She told herself she offered because she wanted to impress Bill and Chris, but she was lying. She was sinking to her knees, to begin flicking her tongue on her daughter’s clit, because she was angry. She was angry with herself, for letting things get this far, and she was angry with herself for accidentally telling her daughter she fucked Steve.

She wondered, had she subconsciously wanted Jamie to know? Wanted her to know about the sacrifices she was making, giving up stars to stay neck and neck with her daughter’s progress so Bill would keep his deal of using Wendy for his sexual release, and not his daughter.

She was angry that Jamie was such a fool, that she would agree to be pierced at a county fair AND get a tattoo. She was angry she had agreed to her own tattoo and couldn’t take it back now, it felt like painful wet paint on her ass cheeks. She wasn’t angry with Bill and Chris, the way she looked at this, they were doing their part, the failures had been her own mostly.

While she mentally chastised herself, she opened her eyes. Her nose was resting slightly above her daughter’s  clit, her tongue was thrusting and darting in a slow rounded circular motion along the ridges of the labia and inner walls of the pussy and back into the clit. Her hands had instinctively gone behind her back as she bent her knees and began playing with her own very wet pussy while she had been lost in her thoughts. Was she moaning? Or was Jamie?

She was starting to snap back to reality.

Chris was throwing popcorn at her ass. HE HAD TIME TO GET POPCORN AND A DRINK? She wondered in shock how long she had been eating pussy. Her DAUGHTER’S PUSSY? It was wet, her chin was wet and sticky.

“Mom, I think Jamie is ready. Stop playing with yourself, before we call Mrs. Waxerman!!” Chris was steadily firing popcorn at his mom’s ass while she swayed in front of the men.

“Sorry Sir, Sorry…Sorry.” She backed away, thankful that she’d been called off. She’d had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach when the reality of what she was doing hit her. She just wanted back on the floor.

“Stay here and hold it up and out!” Mikey, who wasn’t sure if this was the hardest fifty bucks he ever earned, or the best fifty bucks, wasn’t about to have let her get that hot and steamy and then let go. He insisted she stand, pinching her daughter’s now engorged clit hood as hard as she could, like a human clamp.

It was over in another few seconds, her daughter writhed in pain as the hoop was stuck through her clit, letting go of her ankles.

Mikey explained almost clinically, “From now on, you are probably going to be very sensitive there. Your clit was used to being on the inside of your body. Now it will be on the outside of your body. Fabrics, water from the shower are going to rub against it and you’ll probably be hypersensitive for at least a week” Mikey wasn’t sure if that was true. He had some women tell him they felt orgasms just from putting on corduroy shorts and how it chafed, and he had some say it hadn’t heightened anything.

Jamie‘s body was involuntarily undulating and spasming. She fell completely off the chair with a thud on to the cement, holding her clit, experiencing a prolonged sensation like nothing she‘d ever known.

If she had to describe it, it would be like when Chris had made her lay on her back and turn the bathtub water on directly over her pussy, mixed with the feeling of having her pussy pulled out an extra inch in an extended tease that gave her chills down her legs. Multiplied by ten, and then sprinkle strawberries on it.

She was spasming, her muscles all over her body, even her left toe curled up. The rubber ball had fallen out of her mouth, covered in spit rolling away from her, the blindfold still around her. She couldn’t help herself,  her only thought was to ride out whatever was happening in the present moment.

Wendy for her part, was half standing, half crouching unsure what to do or say. If she had thought about it, she’d admit she was just a little bit jealous she hadn’t had the pleasure soaked permanent epiphany that her daughter seemed to be experiencing with her piercing.

Mikey looked at Bill, “Wow, I didn’t expect this.” looking at Chris and looking at Uncle Creepy, they all did double takes with each other before turning back to the girl who seemed to be locked in her own painful orgasmic trance.

“She probably has had enough, do you want to do the tattoo another day? I swear, I’ll come to YOUR house for it if you fucking want.” Mikey was proud of his work. He hadn’t ever made a woman cum like that when having sex, none of the men standing there had.

He could not tell if she was enjoying it or hurt by it, or possibly in epileptic shock, by the completely uninhibited way she shamelessly tossed on the floor without regard for the little pieces of dust and filth she was rolling around in.. This was no act on the electric chair, pretending to be shocked into orgasm. This was the mightiest 11.1 on the Richter scale full release Tsunami of orgasms of which other orgasms aspire to be.

“Yeah, Chris what do you say, Maybe we just go home, and come back tomorrow. I think they’ve had enough?” Bill had no idea what his daughter must be feeling, even if were absolute bliss and total ecstasy, he had taken pity on her, and felt that going further would be too much.

Wendy smiled, maybe after all this, she had prevented Jamie from making a huge mistake with the tattoo. The piercing’s could eventually come out. The tattoo was forever. Providence had smiled upon her, letting her feel less guilty about the smell and taste of her daughter’s pussy juice on her tersely pursed lips.

“Seconded, I am surprised no security guard has kicked us out.” Chris replied, mentally exhausted himself, tossing popcorn in his mouth and chugging his soda.

After everything, Uncle Creepy uttered his first response of the night. “I AM the security guard.”

The Family Feud III

Chapter Three
“Uncle Creepy”

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 26
JAMIE: 24

Faces went ashen, jaws fell open, pins dropped and people heard them. That may be a slight exaggeration, but I am telling you, Uncle Creepy's words stopped everyone in their tracks dead.

It was quiet for a long time.

It was obvious now that they looked at him. He didn’t have on a uniform like one might expect of a security guard. No badge, No policeman’s cap, No patch that says “Security,” No leather belt with nightstick trundle or walkie-talkie.

Just simple, unassuming, navy blue polyester workman pants, hiked up about three inches higher than they ought to be, with his white button down shirt tucked in. He was so unimposing, and awkward that it had been natural to just assume he dressed this way by choice and not because of his vocation. He did not exude any sort of personal confidence, charisma, or authority.

Mikey was the first one to start the wave of laughter, it was at first just a simple giggle. Then Chris joined in, cascading on to the others into a full on chuckle.

“Barney, how is Andy and Aunt Bee?” Mikey had a natural dislike for authority, but this unassuming man, seemed so innocuous that he made mockery of the concept of authority. His jab was not intended to be an insult as much as was to release some tension about the bombshell Creepy had dropped on them.

They’d been wondering if security would come around and hassle them, nervously looking over their shoulders this whole time, all for very different reasons. Mikey was worried about his business and livelihood, Wendy did not want a crowd to see her being humiliated, Bill had been having misgivings about Jamie doing this.

Creepy the guard remained unmoved by the tittering laughter at his expense. He sometimes chewed his upper lip, letting his lower lip disappear under his mustache, but that would be about the only expression other than ‘flat’ you could use to describe him.

“We’ve been wondering if security would come and chase us all out, lock us up, and here security has been all along.” Bill noted rhetorically with a grin.

Wendy put her wrists together, laughing breathlessly and held them out. “Oh Officer, would you like to lock me up.” putting her finger to her mouth “I’ve been a bad girl!” slapping her butt.

Some nickelodeon music, the kind they play for ice cream trucks that no one noticed until it stopped signaled an end to the rowdy laughter. The tune was, “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.” the kind of song that gets stuck in your head. The music fading, acting as a natural suggestion for everyone to quiet down.

“As soon as your Sister composes herself,” Bill cleared his throat to try to get Jamie’s attention, “we can go home.” Looking down at the bottom of the gazebo, at his daughter sprawled on the disgusting floor of the gazebo.

“I think she is sucking her thumb.” Chris noted, watching his sister who was still waiting for the train containing all that ecstasy being released inside of her to come to a complete halt before stopping.

Wendy was ready to leave, Bill was ready to leave, and Chris was ready to leave.

Jamie moaned “Noooooooooo” so soft, and meek, that at first it just sounded like another ripple of the pleasure endorphins that must have triggered in her brain. She was mewling and whimpering, something that sounded like a cross between a kitty's meow, and the 'goo-gaa-gaa' language of babies.

“Get up and get dressed right now, or I’ll walk you out of here naked, Jamie Taylor!” Bill’s threat fell on deaf ears.

“Noooooooo” came her reply, like a whispering velvet, but firmer this time.

Wendy for her part, stayed where she was, crouching slightly so that her ample jugs didn’t ensnare another stranger to their gazebo. She would dress when Jamie dressed; she knew it was pointless to ask permission.

“Jamie started to sit up, by raising herself on her elbows, lying in a reclining position on her butt. Her bright blue eyes caught her daddy the way that puppy does when you see them at the rescue shelter and you just know you are going home with them.

The way she had when she was a little girl, waiting for Santa Claus, asking if she could open just one present before he comes in the morning and Bill had to let her.

“I am not going home, without the tattoo!” Jamie regained her composure. She looked down at her chest, assessing how the nipple rings and belly ring looked. Jamie's face silently saying “That isn’t so bad.”

“You’ll go home with whatever I tell you too, even if that is my foot up your ass.” Bill was not going to back down.

Mikey didn’t want to get involved because the levity from moments before had faded. “Listen to me, you just went through some kind of shit storm of an orgasm or something on my floor, you may have even squirted.” He squinted in the darkness to see if there was something wet on his cement. “Your body couldn’t handle a tattoo.”

Jamie started to stand up, and then when she got to the counter top and noted the glare from the fair lights had somehow gotten brighter as if her sensitivity to light had increased. The fair was getting louder, more people were arriving, more activity. She ducked back under the counter with her mom to avoid being seen by strangers.

“I’ve done my part of the devil’s bargain. You told me earlier, that I better abso-fucking-poso-tutely be sure I was going to go through with the tattoo and you made me promise that I was. Now you aren’t?” Jamie didn’t cuss that often. When her Dad or her brother made her say Cunt or Asshole in reference to her body, or ask permission to shit or piss, it embarrassed her, but it also sounded so wrong coming out of such an innocent and wholesome looking face. When her father had used “abso-fucking-poso-tutely”, coming from him it fit his nature and emphasized he wanted her to be sure. When she used the word, it just sounded like a good girl playing a bad girl being naughty and didn‘t have the same effect.

Chris came to his Sister’s defense… a move that surprised everyone.

“Look at me, Mom and Dad.” once he had their attention, he addressed them both.

“I am holding a 44 ounce Commemorative Collector’s Star Trek  Lt. Cdr. Scott aluminum Mug full of frosty Root Beer, and in the other hand a giant bag of hot buttered popcorn.”

Bill was not sure where he was going with this, no one was. However, they let him finish, in the hopes he was going somewhere with what he was saying.

“I know the sugar is bad for me, the caffeine is bad for me, and the hot butter flavored oil is bad for me. This shit will kill ya.” he took a sip from his mug, and downed a handful of popcorn.

Mikey started to grin. He liked this kid. He too wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but he already liked it.

“You know who paid for this shit? My sister’s sweet little ass. Every night, I’ve pimped her out to one of my nerdy friends, and every night she’s gone through every hassle, every hoop I’ve put in front of her she’s jumped through it with far fewer complaints than I would have.”

Jamie raised an eyebrow quizzically at her brother. She was still seated on the ground in a reclining position, resting on her elbows, but she leaned forward to listen to him intently. They all did.

“You let me do what I want with the money I made. You didn’t just inform me it would kill me, and stop me.”

“Sir, I’ve tried to warn you about that stuff for years.” Wendy did not want to overstep her bounds, but she felt she had to point that out.

“Let me finish, whore.” Chris’s calling his mother a whore, could have almost been called a term of endearment in the context he used it just then. He was not being mean when he shut her up.

“Yes, you’ve tried to warn me, teach me to make decisions, get me to make the right choices, and I appreciate that. Even though I haven’t always made the right choices, the choices you‘d make. That is all you can do. Set a good example, put the information out there, but you can‘t decide for me.”

“True power is delegation of decisions to others, being confident enough to trust them to make the right decisions, and to stand behind them when they fail.” Chris said surprising everyone, with a side of him they hadn’t seen.

“You promised Jamie the tattoo. Just look at you two!” He indicated his parents. “Just from your body language alone, I can tell neither of you wanted Jamie to choose the tattoo.” They knew he was right, they may have come at it from separate angles, but they both wanted to keep her from making the choice she had been offered.

Jamie had begun to come out of her hazy, orgasmic experience. No one was watching her, all eyes were on Chris. She sat up on her butt, but inclined her back against the Gazebo counter wall to rest. The experience she had just undergone had taken so much out of her, her breath was so rapid. She couldn’t quite make sense of what happened or what she was feeling right now. Her nipples and pussy still felt numb, but at the exact same time throbbed with a kind of pain that she could not put into words. She wanted to say a “Good pain” but that didn't make sense to her. She had no frame of reference for it.

She wanted to play with herself.

She let that thought sink back under the surface, where she buried these thoughts. No one would have minded if she had, they had all seen her just now at her absolute most embarrassing point in her life. The question in her mind was why was she even debating playing with herself?

She wanted to adjust herself, possibly push her clit back into its position and take off their piercings. Her eyes felt sharper for some reason, all her senses, felt 'heightened'. There was an adrenalin rush coursing through her veins. She knew enough about endorphins from running track and being in sports. This was her body’s way of coping with pain; she would have to ride it out.

There was however, a small bottle of aspirins on the floor. Jamie was still talking on her behalf; she did not want to interrupt anyone to ask. It felt strange not to ask permission for anything, in the past week they had been made to ask permission so often it was becoming second nature. It was just aspirin, no one would begrudge her that, she thought to herself reaching for the bottle slyly (just in case they would).

She'd unscrew it, pop the aspirin in her mouth and let it dissolve until she could swallow it. She was used to making do with less to drink, outside of the two days Chris made her drink only from the toilet. Then he HAD made sure she had plenty to drink.

It was, she admitted to herself, an unexpected benefit of the training, that she could make do without water to swallow. A week ago, she would have choked trying to get the chalky pill down with only her own saliva to wash it down. Chris and Bill had not been particularly generous when it came to permitting them food and drink. She kept her mouth shut, resting her hands on her knees, listening to the discussion continue.

“You did the same to her as you did to me. You taught her right from wrong. You educated her on choices. You set the best examples you could, and then she made mostly good choices. Different choices than I would make. Like “Trying hard” and “Studying” he smiled as Chris gave examples of things, he had not applied himself to.

“She also made mistakes. She helped you tie my cock to my dad’s and march us around the house for a week or two.”

“Whoa!” Mikey eyes went wide. He did not see that one coming.

“That was a big mistake. She wrecked your car, and got talked into walking away from responsibility, and let some guy pretend it was stolen so she wouldn’t be blamed for it.”

“I actually know a guy who will do that for you.” Mikey smirked

“Yah, Griffin Brothers, right?” Chris asked him nodding.

Mikey’s eyes got wider in recognition, “I can neither confirm, nor deny.” folding his arms with a grin.

“I could go over all her mistakes; it’d take a lot less time than it would to detail my shortcomings.” Chris continued, “But the mistake she did not make, was agreeing to serve and humble herself, through thick, through thin, to do everything she agreed.”

Bill was interested, but he still didn’t see Chris’s point. His pragmatic mind had simply added up his logic;

‘I want to go  + Mikey says he will do the tattoo another day = Let’s go and do the tattoo some other time.’

Chris concluded by saying, “Can’t you see it isn’t about who agreed to do what? Not really? It is important that she agreed to something, you agreed to it, that you do it. What I am talking about is why did she agree to it?” Chris asked rhetorically but seemed to be waiting for answer.

Even Jamie wondered why she had agreed to such a heinous tattoo now that she thought about it. She knew in her mind she was no quitter and she agreed to this. All the other reasons having to do with her mom having done it and she hadn’t been expected to. She was curious what Chris’s take on it was, hoping it was as profound as he had been the last few minutes.

“It’s because this is a rite of passage for her. It is how she proves she is not a little girl anymore, who needs you to baby her. She made her bed, she is willing to lie in it, and you  are saying, ‘Not our baby girl, let me make the bed up for her and poof the pillows and change the sheets, and then maybe tomorrow she can lie in the bed the way she made it.”

The answer shocked all of the Taylors.

“In Jewish communities, a boy becomes a man at thirteen. He gets a party, goes through preparations and he is recognized as becoming an adult in his community. The symbolism of their ritual is like what we are doing, just in our own twisted Taylor style.”

CLAP….CLAP……CLAP…… Mikey put his hands together slowly applauding Chris and when no one else joined in he said “What, I can’t start the slow clap, that ends in the standing ovation, the boy was good!” the levity coupled with the fact that there had been a slow clap earlier at their SpongeBob photo-shoot battle put grins on their faces.

Jamie stood up, and clapped for her brother, the kind of clap, cheerleaders do when they are behind their athletes. All anyone could register was her tits now reflecting in the dim light, the two shiny hoops, making her nipples appear fat and swollen.

Bill held up his hand to pause her, “So you are saying that I have to let Jamie decide anything she wants, or else I am not being a good Dad?” Bill directed the question to his son.

“Hell no, she is OUR bitch. She does what WE tell her, watch this. Jamie, stick your thumb up your ass.”

Jamie stopped clapping, her face still positive but more reluctant (coincidentally, this is Chris’s favorite expression she makes). “Yes Sir” she said submissively and put her right hand behind her back just below her butt cheek.

“You expect me to trust that you did what I told you?” Chris asked his sister.

“No sir, I am a female, we wear push-up bras to make our tits look bigger, we wear make-up so our features are smoother and our blemishes aren’t visible. We by nature lie and deceive. I understand you have an obligation to supervise me and keep me honest.” Jamie answered with a practiced reply from one of her many affirmation sessions.

“Then get in Inspection position Two, so Dad and I can see that you have done what you were told.”

She did as she was told without complaint, bending at the waist, holding one cheek apart, with her thumb in her ass cheek. It was clear it had been there all along.

“Thank you Sir, the only way I am inclined to be honest, is by the knowledge of your constant surveillance and that there are consequences for my shortcomings.” again coming from a morning affirmation Chris had given her.

Chris could tell his Dad still wasn’t quite on point with what he was showing him. He made his points like he was writing on an imaginary chalk board. 

1. She has guidance and boundaries, along with the reasons. A 12 year old will have a different set of guidance and boundaries suited to their level, than a 15 year old, than I would, or a slut like Jamie does.

2. In this case, if I tell her to stick her thumb up her butt, she has a choice. Her choice is to do it, or not. If she does not, she faces the consequences.

Not all consequences are bad. The consequence to a good decision or at least a better decision is you may get a treat you did not think you would.

3. If I do not supervise her, she never faces the consequences of her actions. So she understand and accepts I‘ve got to supervise her.

4. My contract with her is that in exchange for this supervision, guidance and boundaries, she will do her best to keep her responsibilities and if she can’t, she’ll face the consequences. That is why it is important that when I say there will be a consequence, there will be. If I say twenty-strokes with a lash, it is not 19, it’s not 21.

Chris displaying rare talent at communicating had laid it all out, so that everyone understood the point. No rambling, No cryptic references to video games or cartoons. Wendy wanted to cheer for her son, too. She had never heard him explain anything clearly before now.

“So that is why, if you told her that she has to make a choice, that is her responsibility. She made the choice. Now you are telling her that is irrelevant. So she feels like a baby, who is being coddled.” Chris summarized his points.

“Chris, Sir!” Jamie beamed from behind the counter, her eyes reflecting the Ferris wheel lights with admiration. “If we were ever in one of those situations like when people are flying and they crash in the mountains and have to eat each other.”

“Yeah Sis?”

“I’d eat you last!”

“Well, I’d eat you first!” He grinned.

“Oh promises, promises.” She flirted back, her hand on her hips in a ‘hubba hubba’ motion like Mae West. Chris had never licked her pussy or had sex with her, and she frankly didn’t want too, but she didn’t mind the flirtation they were having.

“Wendy, what do you say?” Bill asked, having a lot to think about.

“I am surprised you asked me my opinion, Sir.”

“It’s a family meeting, I think.” Bill answered, giving her permission to be more informal and talk about issues.

Mikey wanted to interrupt, to remind them that the girls were still naked, and he was losing profit while he kept the shop light off. It was dark enough now, that without the neon lights, someone would have to literally bump into the gazebo to find them without his neon signage.

“If that’s the case, then I owe you a big apology Jamie. I love you, you know that. You know that I would never do anything to harm you or hinder you in life intentionally. I am realizing tonight, after Chris made his brilliant point, that I’ve got a lot to learn from you both.” She added trying not to get emotional. “If you are sure you want this tattoo, and your father approves, then do it with my blessing and we’ll both be whore butts together.” She was close enough she could hug her daughter.

Wendy curled up a fist to do a fist bump with her daughter. The moment their knuckles touched, they said in unison, “Ho’s after bros!” They had practiced the cute little reversal of Bill and Chris’s catch phrase.

“Fuck man; let me get my god-damned inks. I swear to you, no one is going to fucking believe this shit.”

Wendy asked her daughter, “Chris’s point though was to arm you with the tools to make the decision when you are ready. Look at this tattoo, for one full minute.” she said without deferring to the men for permission first. Something that felt a little weird to her, even though until last week she had always acted without deferring to the men of the house.

Wendy wasted no time in getting back down on all fours, facing her ass towards her daughter, and putting her forehead to the ground much the way she had been during her daughter’s piercings.

“Sir, will you shine some of that light directly over my ass, so my daughter can look at my tattoo” were words she never thought she would ever say in a million years, but she was asking Mikey to pull his hanging overhead lamp down for that very reason.

Jamie’s eyes followed every flourish and shaded line, along each letter. The W, H, O, R, E was at least 8 inches high and covered her mom’s entire ass, using the asshOle as the position for the tattoo of the letter “O” suggesting Wendy’s anal ring was part of the letter. It was beyond lewd.

“Are you sure you want THIS?” Wendy asked holding her hands at the back of her cheeks, so that her daughter could see the entirety of the tattoo without her fingers in the way, but still pulling slightly apart so that the O was clearly visible. This was her final chance to decide, but Wendy felt strongly that Chris had made a good case. She was going to show her what she was about to get, and let her make up her own mind.

Jamie touched her mom’s ass; it was still sticky from the ointment, although it had bits of dirt and gravel in it now, from where she would be rolling around on the ground. She pulled her Mom’s ass cheeks apart further herself, something she had done several times to shave her, and lotion her up in the past week.

Then she did something she had never done. She spit on her mom’s asshole. Wendy was shocked. What did that mean?

Jamie bent forward, and flicked out her tongue to lick all around the tender anal ring, causing Wendy to spasm at first, but she soon held herself in position while her daughter kissed her ass at first gently, and then pushed the tip of her tongue slightly in.

“And Chris, Sir?” She said to her brother who like Bill was watching from above with rapt attention. “If its moter boating to roll your face in titties,” She referenced something he’d said earlier tonight and then rolled her face in her mom‘s ass cheeks, letting the cheeks wiggle on her face and in between her nose, making a “Grrbbbbblll“ sound playfully.. “It’s called muddin, when you roll your face in ass cheeks.” she smiled sweetly with a hint of insatiability like the good girl gone bad in all the pornos that have EVER been made about good girls going bad.

Why had she just done that?

Jamie had just licked someone's ass for the first time in her life. Not just any ass, but the sweaty, dusty, sticky ass of her mother shortly after the word “WHORE” had been tattooed on it.

She really could not explain why she had this sudden urge to be naughty. It could be said that where most people had the angel on their shoulder telling them to be virtuous, and a devil on another. Jamie had two angels. She was seldom mean on purpose, and although she had been coming to understand her shortcomings, she had never felt like kissing an ass.

She knew why she had told the dirty joke, about 'mudding' and 'motorboating'. She had heard the same joke Chris told earlier at school, except with the punch line she used. There were bi-sexuals, and gays at her school, everyone that went there watched Glee. The concept of girl on girl sex had never appealed to Jamie, much less licking anyone's ass. The fact it was her mother’s ass only making it seem even more heinous. Jamie was not sure if she had been caught up in the moment, or sexually stimulated so much she was not thinking clearly. She was conflicted with guilt and a desire to be naughty. New feelings that were hard for her to process right now.

Why had she done all this? Why had she written a check with her mouth that she would literally have to cash with her ass, by being this forward and provocative? What were these feelings pressuring her?

It may be suppressed teenage hormones. She had grown up hearing that good girls wait. They hold out, they don't do naughty, dirty things. Was Chris's speech that despite what she was told, she had to make decisions and face those consequences finally letting those hormones come to the surface?

Was it endorphins kicking in, the same chemicals in opium, being released into her brain, her body’s reaction to the shock of intense pain and stimulation? Adrenalin was being produced, causing her blood to pulse, her desire to touch and be touched.

It may be that her nipples were both freshly pierced with hoops in such a way that the nerve endings were permanently stimulated, made fatter and pulled out so they stuck out by what felt like an extra half inch to her.

It could be that her clit, which had always been hiding inside her labia, hidden away, revealing only a slender pink crease to anyone who saw her hairless pussy was now also permanently pulled out, by what felt like TWO inches, with a hoop going through it. She could swear every nerve ending in her body, must first connect to the piercing and then on to her brain. If she wriggled her toes, it tickled her little cookie, if she touched her boobs, it registered there too.

She smiled, remembering her name for a pussy had been “Cookie” since she was a little girl. She had no idea at the time, how appropriate it would be to eat a cookie.

She was suddenly having such wicked thoughts and images flow through her mind. That is when reality hit her, she was not sure how long she'd been making out with her Mom's ass, but no one seemed to be complaining. She puckered up and gave it one more big, affectionate kiss right on the sphincter as an ending note.

“The tattoo looks good to me.” She smiled sexy. “I want one, may I have one just like Mom's?” She looked up pouting at her Dad and brother, lustily. “Please Sirs? I'll beg!” She stood up on her knees, put her hands in front of her like Rosco begging for scraps, stuck out her tongue and panted.

The internal filters that everyone has that provide inhibitions didn't seem to be working quite right for Jamie at present. She was experiencing, for the first time in her life, the 'bad girl' that had been suppressed deep down inside and locked away.

She was secretly enjoying the control she had on the men. All attention was now on her, and they seemed to be stunned by every move she made, every word she spoke.

“Why do you want a tattoo of whore on your ass?” Bill asked his daughter, in the manner of his affirmations.

“Because, I am the whorish daughter, of a whore for a mom.” Jamie answered. “Shall I get into affirmation position, Sir?”

Wendy felt a sudden twinge, her butthole had just puckered. This whole experience was so heavy for her. She had expected earning the ten stars at the fair was going to get intense. The electric chair at the arcade, the game with the pictures, none of this came close to what was happening right now. She wanted to say something, to call out, “Hey everybody, let's take a time out!” She remained frozen, hurt by the truth of her daughter's most recent short answer.

Bill didn't like the new Jamie. So confident, and aggressive, she seemed comfortable with her body in a way she had not been. She had offered to do things proactively before, take positions she knew she'd be in, but there was a tone to his daughter's voice that seemed to imply she wanted to be in an affirmation position.

“Do you want to be in an affirmation position?” He asked.

“Yes Sir, the affirmations help put things in perspective for me, and make me think. They reinforce for me the path I am on. I appreciate you taking the time to give me the attention you do, and challenge me to think about this decision. When I am in a vulnerable position during the affirmation, I am unable to hide my true feelings, you can see right through me.” she answered. This was a safe answer, similar to one she had given him a few days ago.

“Any other reasons?”

“Yes Sir, that you have a better view of my cunt, and tits, now that they are extended and ringed. So you can admire the hoops you paid for.”

“You earned the money we are using; don't you mean you paid for?” Bill asked her.

“As long as I have an outstanding debt of gold stars to you, I am your pet, your personal property, to use to make up for my careless and thoughtless actions.” This was not unlike some of Jamie's answer in the past but she added, digging deeper and more retrospectively, “My brother is my pimp, I am his whore. He picks who should date me, and how I should behave. The whore doesn't manage the money, the pimp does. If he wants to spend it on me, it is up to me to be thankful and show my appreciation for his generosity.” Inside she felt so dirty saying these things. Pimps and whores was such an alien concept to such a white-bread girl, but she also felt they were the right words to use, all things considered.

Mikey couldn't believe what he was hearing, but he sat quietly, hand on his lap fighting the boner that was struggling to free itself of his pants, while he listened to this young girl talk.

Chris tagged into the conversation, instructing his sister to squat, spread her knees apart, cup her tits with her hands, and look straight ahead. She complied right away.

“Sis, do you like being my whore?”

“Yes and no sir. You make me date boys like Gerald who until recently, I would have smiled patronizing them, and said “Oh you are so sweet, I really like having you as a friend” knowing full well, I was probably crushing his dream, failing to return his affections, making him feel inadequate, and not really caring.”

“Yeah, I can see why you don't like that.”

“That is the part I DO like, Sir.” Jamie admitted, rubbing the curve of her thumb and index finger in semi-circles around her tits, as if massaging them. “If I hadn't had to do any of this, I would never have realized how big of a bitch I am to put myself on a pedestal that somehow my time was too valuable to share with someone like him, because he didn't seem like what I've been taught popular kids are.”

What don't you like about being my whore?” Chris nodded his head, filing away a mental note on that answer about how good it was.

”I don't like to have to behave, Sir. I feel like I have on an imaginary chastity belt, and I am just there to be eye candy. I have to be polite; I have to be nice, no matter what they say or how awkward it is.”

“You are always nice, Jamie. I've never seen you be rude.”

“That is because Sir, I avoided you in high school, and anyone like you. I hung out with popular kids. I made myself busy through school activities, so that I didn't have to date. It is comfortable in my rut, in my self-importance, in my own priorities list that don’t include what I don’t want to deal with. I don’t like being made to face those things, but I appreciate having to do it, Sir. Thank you for making me have to be a better bitch... My rudeness, is my stinginess with my time, my affection, my love. I haven't shared it enough with you, my family.”

Things being as freaky as they were, Mikey assumed ‘love’ must mean ‘sex’. Jamie didn't mean that. She meant nights like this very night. Jamie’s affirmations had never quite been as deep as the ones Wendy did. She was getting straight too her point, and not needing to be prodded to elaborate at all as if she had been in the past.

“You’ve brought me, and my mother to the county fair, to make us both entertain you. We haven’t done a very good job so far. We faked our electrocutions on the chair at the arcade, and our performance on stage in our cat fight, wasn’t very believable, Sir.”

Bill THOUGHT they had been faking. He wanted to jump in and demand punishment of the two deceitful wenches, but Jamie had more to say.

“You could be home doing what you had preferred to do for years. Look at porn, play video games. You are here tonight because you love us both. Why else take the time to bring us down here, and risk getting caught with us in this gazebo.” She looked around the darkened little shed, to emphasize her location. “You are so concerned for me, that you want me to make a good choice tonight. You are willing to spend time you could be amused watching your dumb whores antics, that you are here making me think. Thank you for that, Sir.”

“You WANT to stay after you get the tattoo?” Bill asked. The guys frequently switched off who led the affirmations.

“Yes Sir of course. You drove all this way, to give us the opportunity to earn ten stars. We have a late start, but if we kick it up a notch, then we may actually amuse you enough to earn them.”

“You may change your mind, after you get that tattoo, about sticking around here, Jamie?” Bill’s statement was more his opinion than a question of sorts.

“Then you would have to administer a correction to me, Sir.” She paused, noticing they hadn’t remembered. “Earlier tonight, I swore that any challenge we take at the Fair, I would do, or you could administer a correction right out in the open of the midway. So if I chicken shit out on a promise, I wrote with my mouth, that my ass cannot cash, then you have to administer a correction, and make me keep my word, Sir.”

“I don’t HAVE to do anything.”

“That is true, Sir and neither do I. The consequences for me not keeping my end of the bargain are that you will give me a public correction. The consequences for you not living up to your end of the bargain we made, are what Sir?”

Jamie had just flipped things on her dad, by making HIM think. “Okay, pip squirt, no matter WHAT happens, you are staying til closing time, and being our little plaything?”

“If my Mom is your plaything tonight, Sir then I is your plaything. We agreed to do this together.”

“Wendy, are you my plaything tonight?” Bill asked his wife, who had been content to keep her forehead pressed to the ground, ass facing her daughter.

“Yes Sir, as I will be every night, until I earn my dignity back. I‘ve got a lot of stars to earn.” Wendy got next to her daughter, without being told, taking the exact same position.

Mikey wondered if these stars were laced with crystal meth or LSD or something. He did not know what they were, or why the women wanted them. His experience with women was they wanted ‘something’ from him, Drugs, a place to live, money.

“How can you get your dignity back with WHORE in big letters on your ass?” Bill folded his arms across his chest.

“It may not be easy sir; I may never live it down. Whenever you fuck me in the ass, you will see it like a big reminder. It will take a long time to build up respect for myself, before I can have it from others. I will have to start from scratch. I am hoping maybe we can move after this is all over.”

“So you aren’t going to get it removed as soon as you can?”

“I will remove it as soon as my daughter does, SIR.” Wendy’s affirmation answers were usually very calm and submissive in tone. That last word didn’t fit. It sounded the way she talked before she had to be submissive. There was an aura of certainty about it.

Jamie smiled, “Thank you Mom, I’ll remove mine when you do.”

“Who said you could speak?” Bill corrected his daughter. “For that matter, who said you could have the tattoo?”

“YOU told me I could have the tattoo, Sir and to make up my mind abso-fucking-pos-devoutly and not keeping coming back and forth on the issue. I made the choice; there is no going back now. As for my outburst, I am sorry sir for being so undisciplined. Please punish me, so that I won’t forget to wait until I am spoken too during affirmations?” she asked her father without a trace of that tone that implied “I am saying this, because it is what you want to hear” that so often had made Jamie’s affirmations hollow and unsatisfying.

“You are right I did! Get in that chair, and let’s not take up Mikey’s time. We’ve got so much to get done tonight… That your punishment for talking out of turn will have to wait!!”

Jamie wanted to hug her dad. She hadn’t ever wanted a tattoo in her life, never even thought about it. Now she felt like she just won a full college scholarship for scholastic achievement as she sprung into the foam chair above her head.

“And I will tell you this, if you don’t remind me to punish you later. It’ll be twice as much when I DO remember, little girl.”

“Yes Daddy, Sir” Bill normally didn’t like when she included Dad in her titles for him, but he understood this was a big deal to his daughter. He just hoped she didn’t regret it.

“If you bitch or complain about having to swim, or go to the big game tomorrow with that tattoo, I’ll whip the tattoo right off your ass! So you better start thinking of what you’ll say when people ask you about it!!”

She swallowed hard. It JUST dawned on her as she pressed her chest into the foam chair straddling it, her bare ass awaiting the same tattoo her Mom just received. How would she handle wearing a bathing suit? Or Tomorrow night's Football Game without her spanks?

The Family Feud III

Chapter Four
No Chapter Title For You!

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 26
JAMIE: 29

Jamie was now tits first, pressed into the backboard of the same sweaty foam tattoo chair her mom had been in only a few minutes earlier. Her back arched, so that her naked ass was facing her father and brother, and of course Mikey. He was working with as much reduced light as he could, and was rummaging around his inks and supplies so that all Jamie could hear as she faced away from them was the sound of crickets chirping in the background and paints being moved around.

She was biting her lip, as she waited for him to prepare. The silence was deafening to her, because now she was alone with her thoughts and that is all she could hear. She had been so sure; she wanted the tattoo, talked herself into it, through the affirmations. Now that confidence was fading a little as she second-guessed herself.

She knew she wanted the tattoo, in large part because her Mom had it. Earlier in the evening, her mom had shared with her that she was fucking a guy from work named Steve, because Bill had instructed her to. She had all this piss and vinegar about it at first. Petty now that she thought about it.

She sensed some sort of betrayal afoot, that her Mom was fucking a strange guy and she had no idea. They had been telling each other everything. Sometimes at night if the guys tied them up together, they would spend hours commiserating each other about what happened at work, school or around the house earlier that day. They would go over some embarrassing situation, and because they both were sharing the same experiences, it seemed to, in a twisted way, bring them closer together.

Now, she wondered had she acted hastily. Had her petty anger about being left out of this one secret prompted her to bite off more than she could chew tonight? What WOULD she do when people ask her about the tattoo if they see it?

“UHH!!” she moaned, the pain from the tattoo needles suddenly touching her ass, coursed through her body. It went straight to her engorged nipples and clit, where it seemed to have slight aftershocks on her body.

“I told you, you weren’t ready for this. You are hypersensitive from the piercing. You’ve got to stop wriggling!” Mikey said, holding the girl’s ass in place.

“I am sorry Sir, I wasn’t ready. I’ll try harder.” Jamie fought to get the words out; she felt her pussy getting wetter. She had masturbated plenty of times this past week, but she had not had an orgasm. She thought that maybe she had. What she had considered cumming to orgasm, was simply a mild pleasurable feeling. A sort of mildly euphoric gentle rain, it was relaxing and it felt good, but not explosive. That was the deepest sensual pleasure she had ever permitted herself to feel in part, because this is what she assumed sensual pleasure felt like.

She could feel this slippery thread, sticking from her clit hood to the red vinyl that covered the foam on the chair.

“Jamie’s pussy is all wet, is the problem, and she is scooting her butt all over the chair! If you want this thing, sit still!”

“Yes Sir” she agreed, trying to concentrate.

As Mikey became hyper focused on his work outlining the letters, the 99.99% of his brain reserved for his art was straining. He was not used to working in this low of a light, on this pretty of a young girl. He knew she probably was not 18, and he felt like the guy who must have first saw the pristine mountains and woodlands where Mount Rushmore is now. To make his art, he would have to carve and flatten nature’s perfection.

It seemed like a shame to him, to put such a nasty tattoo on such a beautifully symmetrical ass as this one. The cheeks were like two halves of a peach, with little dimples at the top of her back. The pink, perfect asshole on this girl was the kind of thing porn stars would pay thousands of dollars to get a plastic surgeon for.

He could also smell the strong smell of sex on the girl. It was not raunchy, it was sweet. He could see the tiny tendrils of her wet pussy, leaving snail trails on his seat. He wasn’t going to complain, this whole night was just too surreal.

Mikey realized he was going to have to engage that .01% of his brain he used to make small talk with his client, or else he would get distracted. This girl was turning him on too much and dwelling on the naked body before him could make him make mistakes.

This left the Gazebo quiet except for the constant hum of the needles making the outline, and the sounds of the fair, which now seemed distant and surreal to everyone. To people walking by, the Gazebo must have seemed closed.

There were plenty of distractions around that no one seemed very interested in walking up to find out what a few people standing at a darkened gazebo might be doing.

“Sis, what DID it feel like earlier?” Chris finally broke the silence, searching for the right word to describe her explosive reaction to being pierced only a few minutes ago. It had left her sweaty, panting, and in a primal state of full orgasm.

“Hey, before you guys get into another one of your fucking talks.” Mikey interrupted. “I hate to sound like a pervert, even though I AM a pervert. It sounds weird to even ask this, but can you tell your Mom to bring her ass right here in front of me, so I can copy the design exactly.”

Wendy did as she was told, without needing to hear it from Chris or Bill. She got right under Mikey’s feet, pulled her ass apart, and angled her legs upwards around his lap, so that he could get a good look. This put her right under her daughter’s chair, face down towards the floor.

“Thank you, I put a lot of flourishes, and designs and if I want to make it exact. I need to see. I thought you wouldn’t mind.”  He seemed nervous as he dabbed sweat from his brow, distracted, although the last few words in his sentence were more like his normal easy going demeanor.

“No sir, I don’t mind if you want to see the tattoo.” I am curious what it looks like too.” She had not been able to give it a look.

“You’ll have plenty of time to look at your own ass at home, let Jamie answer Chris’s question, Cunt!” Bill barked, and his wife went quiet.

She had jerked off guys this week, and she knew they curled their toes. How all the muscles in their body got tight, then they pumped out their load, and they were exhausted as the blood flowed back from their cock, back to their heart where it could distribute that back to the parts that needed it more.

She had had an experience more like that, but it was hard to describe, to put into words. She was licking her lips as she thought about how to explain it. Her throat was dry, but she had spit in her mouth. It felt something like that.

Searching for the right words to explain what she felt earlier, helped keep her mind off the fact that now that the tattoo was in motion, this was it, no going back. She knew they were waiting for an answer, so she had better speak.

“I feel like the person who has to explain an elephant to the blind man who has never seen anything. There are no words to describe gray, unless you have seen gray, Sir. I don’t know that you’ll understand.”

Wendy was not even sure she understood or had the same frame of reference. Her hoops had not done that to her. She had even begun to forget they were there at times. She would be reminded of them if they snagged on some cloth she was wearing, or someone yanked her by them. It had not extended her orgasms; much less given her some sort of out of body spiritual experience, whatever Jamie did on the floor earlier. 

“It feels like my nipples, not my tits, just the nipples are being stretched about two inches out from my body.” She started to explain.

Mikey wanted to correct her. He did not think he had pulled the nipple out that far, but he was too far gone on his work to bother with details.

“It feels like the hood of my pussy, is too.” It was so embarrassing to answer this question. Talking about the details of her internal anatomy had always made her uncomfortable. She did not know all the technical Latin words for everything, because the whole topic had made her nervous. The gynecologist who her mom had taken her to for birth controls had not even done a pelvic exam. It was just a few simple questions, without removing her clothes and she was given a prescription. She got quiet and needed prodding to continue.

“Can you picture your dick always erect, sticking through your zipper? It’s caught in there, so you can’t put it in your pants.”

The men all winced.

“It isn’t as horrible as it sounds; it is like I am in constant suspense, waiting, anticipating something. This is going to sound gross, but I feel my stomach wall pushing down, constricting.”

Bill could not understand what her stomach had to do with it; maybe it was the belly ring he thought to himself.

“That doesn’t sound gross.” Chris told his sister.

“No, it doesn’t. I was thinking of another way to say, that it feels like, if you’ve ever been right in the middle of taking a very satisfying shit. You’ve got one long log about half way out of your ass?”

Chris giggled for her to continue. The example his sister chose amused him thoroughly. Until a week ago, she would not even say the word “Shit,” now she was using it for comparison purposes. He was delighted!

“Imagine while you are in the middle of your cock being teased like you are just on the edge of ejaculating but cannot, that you also are right in the middle of taking a giant shit, but you also cannot shit at the same time. Now imagine you have that feeling ALL of the time.”

There was a quiet, except for the buzzing, so Jamie continued to talk. “When I moisten my lips, when I feel my nipples against this chair, my pussy, I am more aware of it, than I ever was before. I feel on edge. I have this ‘full’ feeling, like my skin is tighter all over my body.” She wrestled with the words to describe an experience that even other women may have a hard time relating too. This was all too new to her; she would have time, she realized, to get a better explanation.

“That really doesn’t explain about your pulling a Jamie, down there on the floor?”

“Pulling a Jamie, Sir?” she asked her brother.

“Yah, that is what I am going to say the next time someone freaks out over how good something is. Pulling a Jamie. You were like a baby down there, it seemed like you saw God or something, Sis!”

Chris’s questions were keeping his sister’s mind occupied, permitting Mikey to get his job done. Keeping the customer calm was all part of the tattooist trade, a necessary skill. Mikey thought to himself, he wouldn’t mind apprenticing that boy. That is of course, if he didn’t get evicted from this fair for tattooing naked women out in what was technically plain sight. He grinned; his rebellious, non-conformist spirit welcomed being kicked out.

“I’m not sure about that. I never in my life experienced anything like it. When I masturbate to put on a show for you or your friends, I have to go somewhere deep in my mind. It’s a safe, tranquil place, where all touches are good touches.” She said softly as if summoning up that place in her imagination right now. “I’ve got to spend time, blocking out any bad thoughts, or disgusting people, sweaty body odor.”

“So basically, Romantic. Candles, and rose petals and all of that bullshit?” Bill paraphrased for his daughter.

“I suppose so. The mood has to feel right, the setting, the imagery, the voices, everything. If I don’t have that, I try my best, Sir.”

“Does trying your best involve faking an orgasm?” Bill’s face a lemony expression in anticipation of her response.

“Yes Sir, I am sorry about that. I didn’t have anything to compare it too. I just made the faces and sounds that mom made.”

“What about when you are having sex with guys?” Mikey’s .01% just went back on duty again with that last comment.

“I haven’t had sex with guys, Sir.” She answered him.

“Oh I see, you like the ladies.” Mikey surmised.

Here was a naked girl on his chair, getting a tattoo of a whore on her entire ass. When she unexpectedly said she was a virgin, he almost made a mistake in his artwork.

“YOU are a virgin?” he choked back his response, as he regained his composure.

“Yes Sir”

“Ah-Hah!!” Chris laughed.

“You are a virgin too, Sir.” Jamie knew her brother wouldn’t mind if she stuck her tongue out at him. This was a very casual and open conversation.

“By choice though.”

“Yeah, the women’s choice though.” Bill offered a fist bump, “Bro’s before Ho’s” they both said in unison, acknowledging no hard feelings over his Dad’s zinger.

“Then how are you a whore?” Mikey was curious.

“I am a whore, because my brother rents me out almost every night to date his friends. I am a whore, because my mother and I both are. We use our bodies to get what we want, our good looks.”

Mikey wasn‘t going to dive down that rabbit hole, he let her answer go. He was curious what she did on these dates, but if it was not fucking, he was not sure if he really wanted the answer.

Quiet rolled in over the people at the gazebo. Each one reflecting on what was happening right then, to them, to Jamie most of all. In the background, people were laughing and having fun at the fair. Win or lose at the games, people were smiling, laughing.

Chris had gone back to the closest snack van to get himself a deep-fried funnel cake, which he was tearing apart and eating while he watched his sister get all her letters filled in. Mikey was going to do the O last. As perverted as he was, as twisted as he was, as open minded as he was, he felt a little bad about shading in that perfect asshole the way he had her mother.

“I suppose,” Jamie broke the chain of silence. “that I won’t be lying to Mrs. Waxerman anymore when she comes over.”

“Who the fuck is Mrs. Waxerman?” Mikey asked playfully, this family had such a wild lifestyle, could there be anything more to know about them? He wondered to himself.

“She is a gossipy neighbor who comes over to our house every now and then. Usually My Dad and Brother tie me and my mom up. We pretend to have an uncontrollable masturbation problem, and if we are not tied up and punished for it, we will be these out of control nymphomaniacs. It’s kind of funny, because the more we tell her, the more she acts like she can’t stand it and wants to leave.” Jamie explained smiling, picturing her last visit.

“Yeah, but the old witch stays and stays, the more we do that.” Bill laughed too.

“So what is it you won’t have to pretend?” Mikey asked.

“That I have an uncontrollable masturbating problem. I am doing it right now.” Jamie said the last part as if he knew that.

“No, you aren’t, your hands are grabbing the sides of the chair.” Mikey corrected her.

“THEY ARE?” she sounded panicked as she realized that her hands were both to her sides holding the chair.

“I promise, I am not masturbating her, Dad.” Mikey stopped his concentration, to lean over his shoulder to make her dad very well aware. As free and open as this family seemed to be, there were still some lines you do not cross. Dads have been known to get their shotguns for much less.

“I know that, actually. I been watching.” Bill smiled trying to sound tough and succeeding by saying his words slowly and with conviction.

Jamie said dryly, “Then I need more time before I can tell you what the piercing feels like. Ghost fingers massaging the inside of my pussy, and tugging me forward?” she seemed to be asking more than telling.

“It’s possible that there is a combination of things at work. The intense pain and the prolonged swelling may go away in time.” Mikey didn’t like to advise his customers on things like this, he felt they should do their own research, listen to several different opinions. This girl was different so he advised her, “Your brain is trying to release the same stuff that is in opium. Your body parts are sending back all these signals to the brain, which it has never heard of before. It is trying to make sense of them, because a lot of what it does is automatic. It blinks when it thinks you need to breathe, the brain sends instructions to your lung to take a big breath when you have been under water and need more air. When it thinks you may be about to have sex, it signals your pussy to release all that honey you produce downstairs.” Mikey realized these folks talked pretty vulgar, but his euphemisms felt better to him in this explanation.

“The brain is going, ‘Oh My Gawd, are we still having sex, awesome’!” Mikey imitated a valley girl voice that approximated what Jamie’s brain must be saying. ”Let me send… get that pussy ready for a big dick. Oh wow, I must be getting all this foreplay!” sounding silly like a girl he continued, ”Where is my happy place of rose petals? Okay fuck it, no time for that. I must be having a lot of sex, here let me turn on the tap.” Mikey’s allusion was that the brain had just enlightened the faucet that is her pussy juice.

Jamie’s eyes got wider, and wider as she started imagining what it may be like if these feelings never stop. Always being at the edge of some kind of ecstasy.

“So if I say make me a bologna sandwich, she is going to get off on it?” Chris asked Mikey.

“Depends on what you do with it after, I suppose,” Mikey answered off the cuff. “It’s hard to say what is going to trigger her signals. Some women say corduroy shorts could do it, the way they chafe. What I can say, is that the part of her brain that connected her mental images of what was seductive to the physical is confused. Could be kind of a mind fuck.” He said with a smirk. He was unaware he had just released even more butterflies into Jamie’s stomach than had been there before.

“I can see you winking at me. I need you to stop that, I am about to work around your asshole bud.” Mikey's tone was like that of telling a child you can see him sneaking for the cookie jar.

“Winking, Sir?” Jamie gasped.

“Yeah, how you are opening and closing your pussy, and making your asshole wink. I know you are stressed out, and worried. I need you to relax, so I can finish this. You guys got here early enough I could do this work. It is probably about 9pm now.” Mikey was taking a break to let her calm down, dabbing the sweat and droplets of blood.

“The early-birds have all gone home after the half price rides. Around 10pm, it should start to fill up, and then it will not end until at least 3pm. If you had gotten here any other time, I couldn’t have done this.”

Bill looked around, there was a lull of activity, no foot traffic anywhere close by. It didn’t hurt that his stand had been set up off one of the main trails, and slightly out of the way.

“You do what you need to do to calm down, I am going to hit the head and take care of something, then get right back here.” Mikey realized he couldn’t finish her tattoo this way and he wanted to cum.

“Would you like my wife to accompany you?” Bill answered.

“No, I can find my way to the bathroom, just fine.” Mikey’s answer was flippant but jovial.

“Yah, after looking at everything you have tonight, I am feeling it too. I know what you want to go take care of. I don’t blame you. Wendy can help you, it’ll be my tip.”

“I know what you guys are talking about.” Jamie’s voice frustrated. “You can say masturbate around me, I’ve jerked both of you off. I should be the one to jerk him off.”

“That’s true, but I was going to send Wendy to suck his dick, are you game for that?”

Before Jamie could give her answer, Mikey said “Actually guys, it’s totally cool. Let me get a rain check on who sucks my dick. I like to have a little say in that. I’ll take care of myself after I finish with you.” feeling embarrassed he was even involved with that conversation.

“Little girl, I hate to send you home with 90% of a tattoo, but unless you settle that sphincter of yours down, you are going to open up and shit all over me, sitting back here. Unless you can calm yourself, I can’t finish.”

“Sir, may I be permitted to try something?” Wendy, breaking her long period of silence asked.

Bill, Mikey and Chris all said, “You may” at about the same time, causing the men to smile and look at each other like “Who was she asking?”

Wendy’s nude form draped herself over Mikey’s forearm, her own nipple ring touching his arm as she watched her daughter’s once very slender line, pump and spasm involuntary kegel exercises, contract and relaxing. Her daughter’s asshole also winked at them, as if it were aware they were staring back at it.

She got a chance to see the enormity of the tattoo; it covered most of the ass, so there could be no mistaking what it said. She wanted to cry. There was no time for that now. Instead, she blew softly on it from about 2 inches away.

“Jamie, I want you to picture, that seductive place. Tell me about it.” Her mom’s voice was soothing and relaxing.

“There is a white horse there.” Jamie started, eyes shut, trying to visualize.

“Oooh, Kinky!” Chris’s outburst earned him a solid elbow from his dad, to shut him up. His dad’s glance had silenced Chris, nothing more needed to be said. Jamie needed to concentrate to get through this.

“The guy from the Old Spice commercials is there, the one with the abs”

“Yes, I know the guy.” Wendy thought it odd she was picturing a black guy, but she had to admit. He did have nice abs.

“There are fields of heather, and clover, all different colors of green, and purple, there is a stream.”

“How fast is the stream moving, Jamie?”

Jamie had her eyes shut, she was trying to picture, “I...I don’t know.”

“Try to focus on the stream, see if you can let your mind slow it down.” Wendy waited for her daughter to do that and she added, “See if you can gently suggest, the stream, be at one with the rest of your garden. There should be no ripples in the water. No currents, it is perfectly still.”

“I see that, Mom!” Jamie said happily.

“I know you do sweet heart.” Wendy smiled her warm voice reassuring her daughter it would be okay. Mikey had started working on the most delicate part of her daughter’s ass a few seconds earlier when her muscles had stopped their contractions. “This won’t last forever.” She comforted her daughter, reminding her that when there service was over they could take out the hoops.

Jamie remained quiet, wondering if she would want the hoops out. She had a new appreciation for why some women were into body jewelry. It was not just the vanity of decorating the body. It was changing how she perceived the world, and tweaking her senses in tantalizing yet agonizing ways.

“Do you need me to get back where you can see my asshole, Sir?” Wendy asked Mikey if she could return to her little hidey-hole under the chair, feeling over-exposed standing nude in the night air inside the Gazebo.

“Part of me says yes, I do. I would be lying though if I said I need any more of a guide. I’ve got your entire ass committed to memory, now.”

“May I get dressed, Sirs?” Wendy turned to her husband and son, to find out if she could put on her clothes. Jamie would be finished soon.

“You fucking selfish slut. You wait for your daughter to finish, and then you can get your clothes on together!” Bill sounded disappointed with his wife. “Get a good look at her tattoo that is what yours looks like!”

“Don’t remind me.” Her tone exasperated but not entirely serious, but with a hint of disgust in herself. This is one she would be processing for a long time, just like the night at Rahjid’s motel.

“Almost finished!” Mikey finally announced with glee. He raised his open hand, and brought it down hard on Jamie’s ass. “That is to lock in the color.” he said of her finished new tattoo.

Jamie made an “Oof” sound; she had been caught off guard by Mikey’s strength. He hit much harder than her father or Chris.

“I suppose you want me to lock the color in ten times, like I did your mother?” He asked her with mirth dancing in his eyes.

She choked back a tear, and sniffled “It’s not up to me, my brother and father make decisions for my ass.”

Her father told her, “No boo-hooing now that you have the tattoo! You aren’t going to spoil family fun night. You said after the tattoo you would start doing the dares, now don’t start the waterworks because you regret getting the tattoo!”

“It isn’t that Sir.” She turned her head to look at her father, a long trail of snot rolling down her nose, her eyes watery. “It’s just he hits so hard; I felt my sinus passages open up!”

“I barely touched you. It was a love tap!” Mikey added defensively.

Bill watched closely, leaning in to the gazebo so he could see under the dim light. “Do it again, same amount of power as you used on my daughter.” holding out his hand for Mikey to slap him. The slap barely registered on Bill’s threshold.

“Okay, this should be interesting. Would you mind setting the color on my daughter’s other cheek?”

Mikey seemed reluctant at first, but he did like to slap asses. Smiling as if he was biting into a juicy steak, he hit her with the same amount of pressure as last time. This time on the other cheek.

“How was that?”

“Much lighter than last time, Sir.” Jamie sniffled.

“Lie across his lap, and let him do it the other eight properly. Spread your thighs.”

Jamie got up without complaint to lie across Mikey’s lap. He protested some, but Bill assured him his daughter had spent a lot of time in that position, he would not break her.

Every fourth slap or so, caused Jamie to shiver, and jerk. Almost dancing in place, this nervous, awkward dance.

“Well, that will make spankings interesting.” Chris was fascinated.

“I suppose you want me to spread a thick layer of Bacitracin ointment on your daughter’s ass, too?” Mikey joking as if this was a big imposition.

“Unless, you want my wife to do it.” Bill answered.

“I should probably apply it the first time, for Science, and all.” Mikey’s smirk betraying the fact that he seemed to enjoy most of all, slowly spreading in the cream with both hands all over Jamie’s delicate ass. Especially so, when she arched her back and like a spring, bounced up and down, her sexy teenage ass seeming to thrust itself directly towards him. Once her backside was covered, in the sticky ointment, he realized once again how pert and ripe her ass really looked.

“Your daughter has a beautiful ass. I felt bad at first coloring it up, but it still looks great, at least here in the dark. I mean it. That ass is spectacular.” Mikey giving it a long look, and then another for comic effect (and to snap a mental image).

Wendy felt a little excluded, but she didn’t expect a compliment. Jamie on the other hand, did not know whether to be proud or a little terrified a stranger was complimenting the shape of her ass to her father right in front of her. She had not ever understood men's fascination with asses. To her way of thinking, she shit from there. This wasn't an exciting place to look. Obviously, guys seemed to feel differently about it. She was used to compliments from strangers and accepting those compliments wasn't a strong suit. She was her own worst critic, for sure. She opted for a look that was both gracious and positive after Mikey said it.

“I mean your wife, she has the tits, but of the two, best ass definitely goes to Jamie. I bet she shits gold, and her farts smell like strawberries.” He was shaking his head back and forth, like a wolf looking at an innocent doe in the woods blissfully unaware it would be his dinner.
Bill's was stern and unflinching, causing Mikey to think he crossed a line just now. He got quiet, waiting for Bill to scold him for talking that way, and just about any father would. That is understandable.

In this situation, Bill waited a few more seconds to make Mikey sweat, smiled and said, “Well Cunt? We are waiting.”

“Waiting Sir?” Jamie knew he was speaking to her.

“You were given a compliment you ungrateful twat, on, on something you had no control over. God created that turd-cutter, you didn't. You used to be able to wiggle it like a credit card with no limit, to get any guy to bend over backwards to please you. Now, the tables have turned, and it belongs to us. He did not have to keep his neon light off, but he wanted to give you cunts more privacy than you deserve. So now what do you say to the nice man who spent so much of his time tonight to decorate your shitter?” Finishing his sentence as if talking to a small child.

“I ...um” Jamie needed time to process what her father just said.

“Get that painted ass over here!” Jamie didn't hesitate to step to where her father was, turning her backside to him, so he could slap it.

“That is your first infraction. If the next words out of your mouth are, I, me, my, or thoughts about YOU, I'll bump it up to a correction, got it little miss-self-centered?”

“Yes Sir” she gasped. Addressing Mikey, she thanked him while taking a formal affirmation stance, as if she were at attention. “Thank you sir, for your attention tonight. It is pleasing to hear that you enjoyed the way my ass,” she steadied herself to deliver the rest of her gratitude, hoping saying 'my ass' didn't violate her father's instructions. It didn't or else she would have heard about it. Knowing her father liked her to be explicit and graphic she added, “and my asshole, and that you'd say I probably shit gold and my farts smell like strawberries. As my family, can attest, they've all seen me shit and smelled my farts, and as I've come to learn this past week,” she smiled for this last line,  “My shit DOES stink, just like everyone else's.”  As she delivered a lesson that had been repeated several times as a metaphor about not putting herself on a pedestal.

“And her farts are nasty!” Chris joked, causing some well-needed laughs, even from Jamie.

“Thanks guys for this. I am not sure if anyone will believe the story of you. I am not sure I even want to know why you take orders from your son. You know what, yes it is best I don’t know. The thing is I need my money, and to get the lights back on, so I can try to get a few more customers tonight.”

“We really aren’t that weird.” Wendy smiled, her smiling face seeming as wholesome as apple pie, but below the neck with a cat collar, high heels, pussy and clit ring, naked, and a whore tattoo told another story all together.

“No, you really ARE weird, but I love that about you. Stay weird,” He advised her. “too many people obsessed with being normal”

Chris folded six 10-dollar bills long ways. Calling his mother and Jamie to him, and making them turn away from him. “Spread”

The both put their hands behind their back, and pulled their freshly inked ass cheeks apart, standing straight up.

“Clench” they both almost sighed a little, as they released their cheeks and then tightened the muscles to grab the three tens he had put in the center of their ass. 

“Deliver” he pointed to Mikey.

The two women walked two steps, spun around to face away from Mikey and back at Chris. Then bent over to touch their toes, the dollars still gripped.

“Wow, when did you teach them that?” Bill was impressed.

“You nap a lot. We practice it a lot. If they come at me from the front, they are supposed to take it with their tits.” He looked at the ground “So far, nothing really sticks up there on its own. They’ve got to hold them together.” Jamie explained before reminding Mikey he should take a picture for his workbook.

Wendy and Jamie knew better than to complain. They silently waited for him to fidget with his Polaroid and get a few shots of their asses with the money still between the cheeks and then without.

“Hmmm, smells like sixty.” He said holding the money that had only recently been between their ass cheeks to his nose with a smile.

“Yeah, it’s a tip. I mean, you have gone so far out of your way, I thought it was the least we could offer. Besides, it is Jamie’s earnings. Easy cum, easy go.”

“A whole ten bucks, I can finally go back to college!” he kidded Chris.

“Okay, whore’s you’ve wasted enough of our time with getting your asses to match, what everyone can tell just by looking at your face, how you act, and what you wear.” Bill was getting psyched about getting on with his dares. “Chris, will you give them back their clothes, so this nice gentleman can turn his sign on.”

“I don’t have the clothes.” Chris said, holding a box of nachos and a mug of root beer.

“What? They gave you their clothes earlier!!” Bill said alarmed.

“I asked Uncle Creepy to hold them.” Chris started looking around for the ubiquitous security guard from earlier. He had been such a background character no one noticed he had been gone for a long time.

“What was I supposed to do? How could I hold food and a drink and all the clothes!” Chris and Bill started to argue.

The two girls looked at each other in a panic. They were stranded here at the fair without a stitch to wear.

There may not have been a security guard in sight inside the fair, but the only entrance (which was also the exit) was well guarded with actual street cops too. There would be no way they could just sneak past them through the exit.

Mikey tried to calm this weird, frantic family down, but they were all talking at once now, which would only serve to draw attention to the Gazebo.

The Family Feud III

Chapter Five
“Shirts or Skins?”

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 26
JAMIE: 29

Mikey waited a few more seconds to let the Taylor family express their concerns to each other. What were they going to do? Creepy had their clothes. The exit is well guarded and lit. Sneaking two naked women out with “WHORE” inked on their ass was not an option. When he was ready, inserting his fingers into his mouth,  he whistled for attention. The Taylor's stopped talking abruptly.

“Chillax, you take everything so seriously. Everything is life or death with you. As if a tattoo is the end of life as you know it. I've got this. Come with me!” His voice reassuring as if this sort of thing happened all the time.

Mikey pocketed the sixty dollars he had been given and walked out of the gazebo.

“Aren't you going to lock it up?” Chris asked.

“It is a GAZEBO.” Putting his hand through the large opening that went all the way around it about waist high and wiggling it around. “What good would locking the gated door, do?”

Chris nodded that he understood, asking, “This maybe another stupid question, then. You want the girls to come too?”

“Yes, just stay low, and behind the trucks and campers.” Mikey needed to get back to work, but he felt bad for them. If Creepy walked away with their clothes, he was probably jerking off into them right now.

Bill and Chris, feeling no real need to sneak, walked behind the tattoo artist. He led them behind the rides and concession stands, in the places the customers were not supposed to see, trailers and storage trucks. Stepping over large electric cables and water pumps connected to fire hoses that were drawing water from the city hydrants. They were right behind him.

Following a slightly further distance away were Wendy and Jamie, totally nude except for heels and collar.

“Why do we always end up completely naked?” Wendy smiled at her daughter, trying to make the best of this. It would not help complaining. She thought to herself, staying strong for her daughter, but feeling a slight urge to scream out of raw desperation.

“Yeah, funny that.” Jamie replied returning her mother’s positivity.

Wendy realized that without Jamie, she would have probably broke down and cried at least twenty times in the past week. The two of them facing this together had made it easier, and at the same time, she wondered what her daughter would carry away from this experience. Would it be positive or negative? Would she remember this as a strangely exciting time, or a twisted dark period in her life?

More importantly, Wendy asked herself a question she didn’t want to think about too hard. Would Jamie insist on being included in the more sexual aspects of the training that she had gone to such lengths to try to keep her from. She could not keep her from everything, just being inspected after every pee break had felt a sexual energy to it. She was not sucking dicks, or fucking at least. Wendy preferred to assume that was the case with her daughter’s “dates” arranged by her brother, anyway.

The two of them were moving as if they were commandos, rolling, belly crawling, looking around corners. It took them much longer to travel a short distance than the guys. “Wait up, sirs.” they whisper-shouted. (If you have ever heard someone try to project their voice loudly, but do it in a whispered tone).

“Why are you whisper shouting?” Bill called back, standing up as if he owned the place.

“Probably because we are nekked, Sir.” Wendy whisper-shouted back, with a grin that read, “My husband is such a smart-ass sometimes.”

While the men waited for the girls to catch up, right next to one of the paths along the fair's midway they discussed their options.

“Okay, I have a friend who air brushes t-shirts, you can buy some in there.” Mikey pointed to a white trailer with airbrushing all over it.

“Me or my dad, could have just bought t-shirts and brought them back to the girls.” It was Chris's turn to point out Mikey's dumb logic.

“Yeah, but then you couldn't watch your sister somersault around like she is Catherine Zeta-Jones on a mission, could you?” looking over the shoulder at the girls agonizing about every 3-4 foot open space they had to run past to catch up to the guys.

“Bro's before ho's!” Chris offered Mikey the fist-bump mantra he shared with his dad, which he gladly accepted.

“You know it!” Mikey smiled, “Glad to be of service, I don't know exactly what game you guys are playing, but I've enjoyed it, thoroughly.”

“Tonight, it's really about humiliating them. Maybe we should say we don't have any more money, and keep them naked all night, running behind sheds and trailers.” Bill laughed.

Unsure if he was serious, Mikey tells him, “Nah, you'd get caught eventually and sent to “Fair Jail” or wherever they send naughty people. You could probably get away with airbrushing clothes on them.” Pleased to tell them a story about a time he worked one Mardi gras just airbrushing clothes on women. “It's hard to tell until someone gets close up. Most of the women wore tape over their nipples and a thong, but not all, my friend. Not all!”

The men had a minute to themselves while the girls slowly crossed the distance to them. The girls were keeping their heads down, trying to avoid the gaze of people at the fair who would be very surprised if they discovered only a few feet away, two women, belly crawling naked past sewer lines and cords. Sometimes they had to get down flat on the ground touching titty to the flat clay, to travel as stealthily as they could.

"No shit, here we were..." Chris starts his own story, with the same intensity and humor that Mikey had in the dozen or so anecdotes and stories he had shared with the Taylor Family. He describes how he goes to get milk and donuts for about a full minute. When the girls get right up to where he is, he stops his story abruptly.

"So what happened next?" Mikey prompts him, with curiosity.

"What do you mean? I got the milk and donuts and went home."

"Why did you tell me this story?" Mikey asks

"What? It's something that happened to me… I thought you'd like it." Chris smirked as if that should be obvious. Mikey had told him stories about his life all night. Chris assumed he wanted to hear one of his. He hadn’t picked the most interesting moment out of his life, assuming any moment would do.

Mikey shook his head, thinking something about that boy just isn’t right. He turned his attention to the two naked girls who were sneaking up on their position. He had to admire the girl’s perseverance and patience to methodically cross the distance as carefully as they could.

Wendy half whispered, “Uh-oh, I don't like THAT look” her smiling tone only half-serious. She hunkered down by the corrugated siding of somebody’s trailer scanning her son and husband. “When you guys start shifting your eyes back and forth, that usually isn't good.”

“Good for you? No.” Bill’s eyes brightened in the darkness, “Good for us? Every time!” he slipped his hand out to his son for a quick hi-five.

“This is Madame Chang’s, she is a good friend, and I think she will have just what you guys need.” Mikey, who usually liked to elaborate with funny stories didn’t have a lot to say as he started to walk up the steps to an airbrushed trailer right across from where they were standing.

“Should we come with you sir?” Wendy noticed with some trepidation, a large gap between the trailer they were currently up against, and Madame Chang’s door. It should be said that despite it being completely nighttime, the arrangement of lamps, signs, and rides lit up most everywhere so people could go about the business of having fun. Darkness was at a premium and where Jamie and Wendy currently were. It was shaded by an overhead tree that blocked out much of the ambient lights giving them a somewhat false sense of security against discovery. Granted, the trailer was unoccupied, it’s inhabitant no doubt an employee of the fair working at the present.

“No, you two are going to learn a new position to add to your repertoire.” Bill put his hands on his hips remembering some ad hoc position Chris had put his sister in. “A new one word command, When you hear a Taylor man tell you to squat you are going to say nothing. Your acknowledgement will be to bend all the way at the knees until your ass is about four inches off the floor, spread your knees apart so your cunt is as parted as possible, cup your tits with your hands. That is it. Under the boob!  Leave those nipples visible and on display, eyes straight ahead.” He instructed them as he watched them both follow his orders. Wendy and her daughter now had their asses just inches off the sun-baked clay of the county fair.

“Good bitches, I am proud of you. We’ll be back in three shakes of a lambs tail.” He winked at his wife as he turned to go inside with the other males in the party, leaving them alone.

The girls had learned a few standard short ‘one word’ commands from Bill, even though some were more than one word. Inspection position one and two, curtsy, and now squat. Chris was always trying new “Stupid human pet tricks” like the spread/clench two-part command they had done a little earlier with their butt cracks to deliver Mikey’s payment.

Wendy could not believe she was secretly amused and surprised by Chris’s imagination to think up ideas like that. She just wished he would write them down somewhere, because it was hard to remember all of his games and code words. She knew he’d forget them and probably expect her to remember. It was pretty hard to write things down when no one lets you bring your purse. “How fucked am I? To be mad at my son for not writing down the names of the humiliating positions he thinks up.” She thought to herself with amusement. Even as she laughed at herself for it, a niggling part of her still felt it was a shame he wasn’t writing down his creative ideas in one organized place. “Gah, why am I such a…mother?” she whispered to herself, disgust tempered with mirth that she was so much like her own mother. She chided herself for always feeling compelled to organize everyone and everything like it was her duty to fight back the chaos of everyday life and bad planning for those closest to her.

A cool breeze whistled through the gap between the trailers. Wendy watched a happy family of four laugh as they walked by. Their kids eating cotton candy, the mom arm in arm with her husband. She was thinking introspectively.

“So, this is a typical Thursday night for the Taylors, huh?” Wendy was the first to break the silence to lighten the mood.

“I don’t know, I am kind of afraid a bug might crawl into my cunt.” Jamie’s use of the word cunt, especially with the two of them alone still sounded so ‘wrong’ coming from her innocent face. It was however the word the guys preferred and expected them to use for their vagina and it wouldn‘t be the first or last time Jamie said it. It still made Wendy’s skin crawl every now and then.

Giggling slightly, “You think it’d be a grasshopper?” Wendy said playfully. She could not see Jamie’s face but the two of them were blowing off steam and she knew her daughter saw it as the playful little barb it was intended to be without hearing a response.

There was another uncomfortable pause, as both of the girls started to feel the strain of their muscles holding the squatting position.

“OH SHIT!” Wendy exclaimed with alarm.

“What is it, Mom?” Jamie’s voice was still at the half-whisper they had been using to talk back and forth, showing obvious concern.

Wendy held her hand up to her face, fingers wide and buried her face in it laughing as if she had just made a bone headed mistake that amused her. “I broke a nail.” She sighed. She grinned as she examined the nail that had obviously chipped off during their late night crawl through the back ways of the fair. “What used to bother me so much. Things like this, they don’t seem so important now, you know?”

“Yeah, I think I do.” Jamie’s right lip curled just slightly into an, “I know exactly what you mean.” face. “I kind of feel I may have pulled a groin muscle earlier.” She was about to explain further, when she asked more seriously, “Do you think anyone is watching us out here?” keeping her head straight, her body still.

“I’d imagine if they were, they’d either be approaching us by now, or laughing hysterically.” Wendy said with a wry expression. “It isn’t every day you see two naked sluts, holding their tits, spreading their cunts, and talking to each other in a dark alley at the fair.”

“You are right, that is definitely more a Thursday night.” Jamie’s joke making Wendy gasp for a second laughing aloud.

“We’ve been on quite an adventure, you and I.” Wendy’s voice showing appreciation for the adversity they faced together. “I don’t think I could have done this without you... Thank you, Jamie.”

“Hey, we are partners in crime.” Jamie sounded as if she might be rocking herself back and forth, as she said the last line.

“Are the piercings bothering you?” Wendy asked. Both of them holding the conversation veiled in the darkness. They could not see one another’s faces as they looked straight ahead as instructed, cupping their tits.

“Kind of,” Jamie answered in an uncomfortable tone, “It feels like I’ve plucked a single nose hair and half way through a sneeze, when your eyes and nose are itchy and about to tear up, your entire abdomen tightens up. It makes me want to pee and cry at the same time. I wish they would hurry up.” swaying as she did, trying to keep her mind off it.

“So go right there?” Wendy asked, as if it was no big deal. They were already squatting in a very ideal position to piss.

“Without permission?” Jamie seemed shocked her mom would even suggest it.

“I am impressed, baby girl.” Wendy admitted, “You are taking this very seriously!”

Jamie looked at her mom “I feel like my bladder is going to burst if I don’t pee soon, but I am doing my best. Don’t tell me, you cheat sometimes and go without asking permission?”

“Not at home, there is never any privacy then. They would hear the toilet flush. Your brother caught me farting once and gave me a correction! Just for Farting!” Wendy smiled as she said it. Her tone like someone telling a story about someone who had the nerve to take the parking spot you were waiting for at the mall. How could she have held in a fart? It was altogether silly, unreasonable and an over-reaction to her body’s natural faux-pas. She thought a simple infraction would have been fair for the offensive sound an odor.

Wendy wondered to herself, how she had grown comfortable enough to accept she should at least be punished somehow for something she used to do if it suited her (quietly of course).

“So you HAVE thought about ways you could go, you just don’t because they’d catch you?” Jamie smiled coyly at her mother, as if the two were scheming. She did not say it, but she too had noted that Chris sometimes tried to give corrections for much more minor offenses. The two of them had been following all of the guidelines so that corrections were rare and he was probably bored.

“At work, the guy your Dad put to supervise me doesn’t watch me all the time. He does not like to watch me do, well you know. That.” Wendy alluded to her bathroom time. She had said shit and piss dozens of times openly this past week, but it seemed weird just between the two of them.

“You know we aren’t permitted to use euphemisms either, Mom!” her voice sounding testy. “It’s just you and me anyway, you can say piss and shit.” referring to her father’s “Say what you mean, mean what you say” policy where the girls couldn’t gloss over the dirtier things in life any longer.

“Are you going to turn me in to your father and Chris?” Wendy asked half-joking, “When it is just you and me saying shit and piss makes me uncomfortable.”

“You think it makes me comfortable? I am playing their game, by their rules, you need to too!” Jamie was getting testier with her mom, hopping from foot to foot.

Wendy was quiet for a moment, as her daughter had just schooled her on her logic. A grin swept across her face “Snitch on me, and I’ll tell them you peed out here.”

Jamie’s expression was a surprised but amused, “Oh no you wouldn’t!!” her eyes wide, her mouth open in an “Oh!!” mock excited look, but before she could joke back with her mom, the side door to the trailer opened. The men stepped out holding shirts. Finally, they could get dressed. They were also carrying bottled water; the two of them were so thirsty.

“Miss us, bitches?” Bill asked.

“Yes Sir” They half-whispered in unison.

“Want some water, it is delicious?” He smiled effortlessly twisting off the top to a fresh bottle.

“Yes Sir” their voices a little louder and more excited.

“Well, well,” He smirked, “When I asked if you missed me, I got a half-hearted little greeting. When I asked if you wanted something from me, you pipe right up and turn on the charm, why am I not surprised?”

Wendy answered for them, taking a more serious tone the way she did in affirmations, “We are both greedy bitches, sir. It is our nature to put our own needs first whenever we think we are able. Which is why we need and accept your constant tutelage...” she was about to finish when Bill hushed her.

“Did you hear that? I thought I saw something?” Bill looked around, finally determining he must be paranoid. “If we get caught with you naked bitches, we’ll go to fair jail. You know what kind of risk we are taking just because you are both fucking irresponsible cunts with your clothes?” Failing to mention, their only mistake had been giving Chris the clothes as he took another swig of water.

Not waiting for a response, he held up two shirts. “I’ve got a choice for you girls”

“Whichever you think is most fitting, Sir.” Jamie’s voice was shaky; she tried to stifle her hopping so her father would not notice.

“That is so kind of you to give me permission to decide what you should wear. Is there anything else you’d like to say, or can I finish?”

“No sir, I’ve nothing to say. Sorry for being an interrupting bitch.” Jamie apologized.

“Hey Mikey, Knock Knock” Chris spoke up.

“Who’s there?” Mikey only half played along.

“Interrupting Bitch”

“Interrupting Bi--” As Mikey was in the middle of asking who, Jamie squealed a high pitch squeal, as her brother bent over and gave her nipples a hard tug, twist and pull at the same time. The squeal was loud enough it may have been heard a good distance away if not for the fact the fair had a low roar of its own sounds, of Ferris wheels, laughter and fun to wash it out.

Mikey laughed hysterically “I’ve got to remember that one; you are a trip, little man. You’ve got to come visit me some time.” Reaching his hand out to shake Chris and adding “Be Well, Kemo-slobby”

“So long, Bone Ranger.” Chris replied.

“I feel a little bad leaving right now, because I feel this story is just getting started. I’ve got to get back to my shop and try to make some cash, though.” Mikey extended another warm handshake to Bill saying his goodbyes.

“Can I give you a hug, Sir?”

“You guys give hugs?”

“That is what whores do, Sir.” Wendy winked at him. “Sirs, can I stand to hug Mikey goodbye? He’s been so good to us, sluts tonight.”

“Too good, and too gentle!” Bill said trying to sound like a stern ogre, but coming across like a gruff teddy bear. “Yeah, you can both hug him if you want.”

Wendy and Jamie hugged Mikey together, all three warmly embracing at the same time. “Whoa, mother daughter action. Film at 11.” Mikey tried to cover his obvious excitement with humor. After the embrace he warned them both “Don’t do anything I would not do. Don’t forget to lotion up those asses!!” and with a wink he walked off into the distance back to his shop.

“Are you girls ready to have fun tonight?” Bill asked finally, just the four of them alone.

“Yes Sir!” Their voices more excited and cheerful.

“Well I'll tell you something, this is no longer JUST a family fun night, it's a quest. It's a quest for fun. I'm gonna have fun and you're gonna have fun, we're all gonna have so much fucking fun we'll need plastic surgery to remove our goddamn smiles! You'll be whistling Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah out of your assholes! “Bill quoted one of his favorite movies, remembering when his own father had told him that, on a family trip to Disney World as a kid. He delivered it like a high school football coach giving a pep talk.

There was no reaction from his family. “None of you have seen National Lampoon’s Vacation? It is a god-damned classic!” Realizing that as a family they had not sat down and watched a movie on TV or in the theater in years. “I’ll tell you another thing; we are going to see a fucking movie together as a family one night before this is all over. You bitches are going with me.”

Wendy reassured her husband she would go to a movie after her training was up with a hopeful voice.

“Not some damned Sex in the City, shit. The men get to pick it. It will be a Good movie, with explosions and you’ll both hold the popcorn, and feed us.” Bill was already picturing it in his mind.

The two girls had been standing since Mikey left, after their long curiously grope-free hug. They were both getting antsy standing as they were.

“Okay, Okay. I see you two are getting impatient for Family Fun Night.” Bill nodded knowingly at the two girls.

“A lot more fun, than Family Nun Night” Chris said goofily, holding up two t-shirts as his father explained the choice they were going to make. “We are going to play Shirts or Skins! You know how in flag football, one team picks shirts, and the other team takes their shirts off, so you can tell who is on what team?”

“Oh yeah, and when its intramural co-ed, the boy’s ALWAYS make the same joke... You girls can be skins!” Jamie’s face formed an adorable lemony squint as she scrunched her pointy little nose with a gleam in her eye.

Bill smiled. He had wanted to say something about how the boys deserved to look at her sweater meat. He couldn’t though, because he remembered making that exact same joke back in high school. He was too busy smirking at her spot-on observation about the universal nature of that joke.

Chris held up the first shirt. It was a white-cotton tee airbrushed to look exactly like a naked woman on the front. Dark, purple nipples about the size of a half-dollar dominated the large round tits. The pussy slit was painted, and there was a hint of a Brazilian to accentuate and draw the eyes.

“We asked for hairless cunts, but they didn’t have any already made up.” He flipped the shirt around revealing a naked back painted all the way down to a very bulbous ass, with a prominence ass crack. “We can get them to paint Whore on the ass just like yours, no charge. This one would be Jamie’s shirt, so she could have tig old biddies, like Mom!” grimacing at his Sister.

He introduced the next shirt, made of a very sheer, stretchy pink material, which was obviously for Wendy. It had airbrushing art of two milk jugs over each breast and the words “MILK, MILK” repeated. There was a glass of lemonade just above the bottom of the shirt painted there as well. Chris flipped the shirt around after pointing out what was on the front.

“Milk, Milk, Lemonade! Around the corner Fudge is made!” Chris sang the children’s dirty nursery rhyme. The back of the shirt had a brown bar similar to a Baby Ruth and the word “Fudge.” “If anyone starts singing it to you, you will be required to point to the part they sing about and turn around to display the fudge, wiggling it, when they get to that part!” he stipulated, making it sound like that should be obvious without being said.

“Okay, what is the choice, Sir?” Wendy asked skeptically of her son.

“Tonight has been fun.” Chris explained. “But all night it has just been us telling you what to do and you do it. Do this, Yes Sir, Do that, Yes Sir” Chris alternated pretending to use his sister’s voice for the yes sirs.

Bill added, “What we are trying to say is it would involve you more, if you aren’t just passive spectators along for the ride. Instead, we want you to think about which one you are willing to do, and why. Giving you some choices makes you more of a player in our games.” Bill said handing back the floor to his son to continue the explanation.

“You can pick the shirts.” waving them both before chugging some water. “Blech! Water” he spit out a mouthful of the cold water onto the dried dirt and clay wasting it. He was clearly unaccustomed to drinking something without carbonation, high fructose corn syrup, and caffeine in it. It also reminded Wendy and Jamie of just how thirsty they both were.

“Or you can pick, body painting. Madame Chang will airbrush your entire body.” Chris tried to give this option a sense of wonder and exotica.

“What would we be, SpongeBoob and Sandy Buttcheeks?” Wendy joked. She was referring to the costumed cartoon characters SpongeBob and Sandy Cheeks they had seen earlier in the day.

“That isn't a bad idea, Dad can be Mr. Krabbs.” Chris smiled at his dad.

“Oh really? Then you are Squigward!” Bill mussed up his sons hair teasing.

“Ha-ha, you DO watch SpongeBob.”

“Okay, if the damned show is on and I don't feel like changing the channel.” Bill added gruffly, slightly embarrassed by his son’s wisecracks. “So which do you cunts pick?”

“What is the catch, Sir?” Wendy did not think it would be this easy.

“Always the skeptic!” Bill made a “tsk tsk” sound as he shook his head in disbelief at their cynicism. “Why does there always have to be a catch?” He asked.

“Then the shirts!” The girls said eagerly, Jamie still hopping from foot to foot.

“Well you didn’t hear the catch!” Chris teased, glancing over at his father who was enjoying his little father-son joke at his wife's expense. They HAD planned a catch all along. It was just funny to them for some reason known only to them to pretend like they had come at this with no cards up their sleeve.

“You will earn the same amount stars no matter what you pick. It is going to be based on your overall performance, so one is not necessarily better than the other is for that. If you pick the shirts, then you will have to follow us around playing dares, they aren’t going to be easy, and they are going to be disgusting and hard.”

“The shirts!” the girls still eager.

“”You will have to eat a funnel cake, covered in chocolate syrup, with kielbasa, and nacho cheese!” Chris’s face was a sadistic smile as he described the gross-out food concoction, obviously his idea.

Wendy and Jamie looked at each other, and then back at Chris “The shirts.” They would eat the gross food.

“You will have to ride the Himalaya, The Octopus, The Viking Ship…and the Anaconda!” Chris knew his sister got sick on rides, and was looking forward to watching his sister blow chunks after she ate her ‘Dinner’ .

Bill added, “And you’ll be graded on how well you flash, probably have to ‘accidentally’ lose the shirt in the loop-dee-loop of the Anaconda as the finale of the night, then run around holding your tits as if you are afraid of someone seeing your melons, and look for it.”

“What if we lose the shirts for good?” Wendy asked innocently.

“Back up shirts!” Chris held up two other matching shirts. “I’m with stupid” and an arrow pointing up. “For the ride home”

“I think it’s better than walking around completely naked, with just a little paint on our body for the entire night. You saw those kids groping on the real SpongeBob today. They’ll pull my titty clean off, and try to take it home.” Wendy said grinning.

“Agreed. I think the shirts, too. That is a lot safer. I don’t think we’d be allowed to walk around completely naked with just body paint.”

“It isn’t totally naked. She said she could airbrush you up in about 10 minutes each. She’ll give you some kind of butt wrap to protect your ass crack, your precious little slits.” Bill lightly slapped his wife’s bare cunt for comedic affect, feeling the metal ring as he did so and smiled. “You get something to cover the nipples themselves. It will not be so bad, especially in the dark. You will look festive, as if you are supposed to look like that. I really liked your idea of SpongeBoob and Sandy Ass Cheeks. You have a dirty mind.”

“Sandy Butt Cheeks” Chris corrected his dad, receiving a ‘whatever’ shrug in response for his efforts.

Wendy’s natural tendency was to consider all offers. She could not resist asking out of curiosity, her mind still set on shirts.

“She agreed to paint them and all you have to do is stand outside of her store, spinning signs for an hour. Then when you are done, we come back and do some dares and games, but no rides this time.” amending after a short pause “Unless we can't think of anything more to do, and then yes, it would be rides.” with a grin.

Wendy was not particularly fond of speed rides, and Jamie loathed them. They spin you, turn you upside down, make you sick to your stomach, and lose half of what you brought with you on the ride. In a small way, it was a metaphor for the ride they were on in life, being disciplined by Bill and Chris. Even though neither Jamie nor Wendy were looking forward to getting on rides, it seemed much more tolerable than the 'skins' option to them at this point.

“What will you two do for an hour by yourselves?” Wendy tried not to show concern on her face, or seem critical. Her maternal instincts and old habits of being the organizer of the family were kicking in. She did not see how this plan made a lot of sense for them to separate on a ‘family fun night’.

Bill had not thought about it. He scratched his chin stubble and said without thinking about it “Probably have some father-son bonding time. There is a beer tent not too far from here. We’ll have a seat there, while you work off your payment to Madame Chang.”

Chris sounded excited, “Wow, I get to have another Beer?” remembering the one he shared with his Dad earlier.

Bill was automatically about to sarcastically reply “Root Beer.” He stopped himself right before he did, looked directly at his Son. “Chris, I believe you should sit down and have a beer with me. One beer though!” holding up a finger. He would not get drunk off two beers, not with his weight that was for sure.

Bill had been 18 when the drinking age was raised to twenty-one when he was growing up, and remembered having a drink with his father as a rite of passage to adulthood. The fair beer tent did not seem like it was going to be very strict. He would just walk up and buy two beers in plastic cups and set them down at a table. No one would give a shit.

Wendy had been certain of shirts, until she heard “Father-son bonding time.” It melted her heart and touched that sappy nerve buried deep inside of her that could not help but be touched by hearing it. She was oblivious to the fact Bill had not actually been trying to sound sappy or particularly loving at that moment. His words by accident or intention had come off that way naturally. As an executive, she would make multi-million dollar budgetary decisions daily. Why was she now finding it so hard to make up her mind? She wondered if when her submission was over, would she have a tough time going back to being a decisive executive with killer instincts in the boardroom.

There was a certain comfort in having someone decide what you will wear, when you will eat, what you will eat. Even though along the way, she faced shock, horror and humiliation. There had been a comfortable ‘rut’ to the arrangement. She could turn off her brain during the training, the part that was constantly juggling pros and cons of every decision safe in the knowledge Bill would not let things get too out of whack. When he had let things go too far, he seemed to be learning from his mistakes and coming up with ways to make them right.

She bit her lip, wishing he had not said ‘father/son bonding time’ she kept replaying the words over in her mind, and thinking the two deserved some time away from the girls. It had to be draining on them to constantly supervise the girls. They may just need a little time to ‘hang out’ and ‘shoot the shit’ she thought those words in the voices of her husband and son. Bill sounded unexpectedly like Travis Tritt the country singer, with a slight country twang and her son sounded exactly like Peter Griffin the cartoon son on Family Guy when she heard the voices of each of them in her imagination.

“I’m kind of leaning towards the body painting thing, Jamie.” Wendy said introspectively.

“What? You understand Mom, no bra?” She grabbed a handful of her mom’s tits with each hand and wiggled them back and forth to make her point, letting them fall with a jiggle. “Look, these are going to be painted, but they’ll be doing this. OUT there.” She thumbed towards the not-so-distant well-lit walkway to rides and games a short distance away.

Wendy didn’t want to ruin the guy’s fun by pointing out this was a grand gesture on her part and make them feel guilty for leaving them alone, naked, and vulnerable at some fair. At the same time, she very much saw her daughter’s point. They probably needed a little time away from all this discipline and dirty stuff. She wished she had that same luxury, it felt good to be gracious and self-sacrificing. At the same time, the shirts sounded like the safer and more conservative of the two options by far.

“Fine, Mom can be SpongeBoob alone, and I’ll do the shirt.” Jamie could feel a sudden pee-torrent ready to burst if she did not say something fast, in a rushed panic she added, “I am sorry sirs for bringing this up, but my bladder is about to explode. May I please be permitted, like the dog I am, right here in front of you where you can supervise me.” she asked sweetly. The men had established they did not like the girls to go to the bathroom unsupervised, due to their concern they would lollygag around and waste time if they did.

“You will both pick one or the other, shirts or skins! You are a team, you little skanks! You’ve got to get that through the fat-asses you do your thinking with.” He paused considering her request to pee, “Yes, before you piss on my shoe. Squat down, and piss in this empty water bottle. I’ll need it for the dares.” Jamie hadn’t drank piss, unless you counted little dribbles of her pussy juice when she had to clean fingers that had inspected her or she masturbated it, and she didn’t consider that piss. Even when she drank from the toilet for two days earlier in the week as a disciplinary measure, it was always clean water.

She didn’t hesitate, taking the bottle and holding it right below her pee-hole, she squatted. Releasing her piss in the dark, as the others listened to the sound, like running tap water.

“Well now I have to go too, Sir. May I please piss like my slut of a daughter, for your amusement?” Wendy knew that the guys enjoyed her begging, so she added “Please Sirs?” desperately for them to get their well-deserved jollies at her expense.

Bill noticing the water bottle still had a little warm water in it, waited until his wife was squatting to hand it to her.

“Open your mouth, piggy.” Bill ordered.

He stuck the bottle about waist level, as if it was his cock fully erect. “You wanted a drink of water, still want it, slut?”

Wendy put her mouth around the bottle with slight hesitation. She hadn’t sucked dick in front of Jamie and in the dark the way he was feeding her the last little bit of water, it seemed like he was purposely trying to cross the invisible, unspoken line of what was too far. She said nothing, she was thirsty, hot and it was already in her mouth.

“Look, you little cocksucker. You drank so much; your daughter only gets a tiny swallow.” He admonished his wife as he pulled out from her lips, while she greedily drank the bottle, unaware that this would be Jamie’s drink too. She instantly felt double guilt for simulated oral and drinking Jamie’s water.

“Your pig of a mom drank almost all of it, are you too conceited to wrap your precious princess, too-perfect for anyone’s lips around this water bottle, or would you rather waste the last drop?” Bill asked his daughter, holding the plastic bottle like a cock near her face.

She had not sucked a dick yet. It had come up as part of the date nights, and she had been very close to having to do it.  The idea of it being her father at the same time creeped her out more so, than perhaps if it had been Chris. Her father had a way of making his games more serious, Chris’s were usually gross, but slightly more playful.

“Anything my whore of a mom will do tonight, I will do, Sir.” She was just finishing her final squirts of piss into her own water bottle, as she thrust her mouth on the water bottle her mom had just been sucking on. She stroked one hand, up and down the shaft of the water bottle, taking it into her mouth puffing out one of her cheeks. She barely got any water, but she did manage to give her mother a look that seemed far too naughty for innocent Jamie.

Where was this dirty girl coming from? Some place deeply repressed and buried in her daughter. Wendy thought, feeling a tinge of the friendly rivalry that cropped up between them from time to time when the guys made them play competitive dares against each other. “You are so going to get yours, tonight slut.” Wendy smirked at her daughter, trying to erase the image of her daughter sucking that bottle at her husband’s waist, and giving it a hand job at the same time.

Jamie let go of the bottle, her mouth making a slight sucking sound breaking the suction as she did. “Prove it, pick shirts, and let’s go be good whores for Dad and Chris!” Jamie’s mood lightened as she put the bottle-feeding out of her mind and responded to her mom’s challenge.

“The deal was whatever dares tonight they give, you went on record as saying, that ANYTHING I do, you will do.” Wendy quoted her daughter’s intent from when they first arrived. “As I recall, you’d accept a correction right out on the midway?” indicating the direction of the central activity of the fair’s rides and vendors now in full swing.

“Mom’s right. You did say that.” Chris said as he bit into a giant piece of licorice, that no one saw him walk out with.

“And I want to be painted up like SpongeBoob, so you my dear girl, are going to be Sandy Butt Cheeks and like it.” her voice sounding sweet but condescending.

“Yes Ma’am” Jamie said instinctively to her mother. Surprising everyone, even herself that she had given her mom a title of respect.

“We really need a rule against that; she can’t speak to her mom with respect. It is a respect free zone for Mom for a week.” Chris said to his father with a trace of playfulness...

“You are right. I’d punish her, but we need to get that beer, and get back here in an hour, so we have plenty of time to put these bitches, through their paces. I’ve got this idea for the goldfish tent.”

“You mean the one where you toss dimes into goldfish bowls and if you make it in you get to keep the goldfish as a pet?” Chris replied to his father.

“Yeah, but we’ve already got two pets, and they take up all our time.” He grabbed his wife by her braided pigtails, as Chis grabbed his sister the same way. “Seal up those piss bottles” pulling them to their feet behind them as they walked them over to Madame Chang’s back door.

But, I didn’t get to pee in my bottle.” Wendy thought to herself with a pout as she followed her husband. Watching her daughter try not to spill, any of her piss-water on her hands as she struggled to follow her brother and seal the bottle.

This was going to be a long night. A long hard night. They had just chosen ‘skins’. Wendy reminded herself, ‘Father-son bonding time’ as she was pulled roughly upstairs to face the consequences of her decision.

The Family Feud III

Chapter Six
“Madam Chang's Oriental Emporium of Novelties”

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 26
JAMIE: 29

The entire store was actually a trailer. The outside painted in garishly with airbrush art, all manner of Asian symbols, Pop culture references to Godfather, Snoop Dogg, and “Snooki” from the Jersey Shore, and a half dozen other unrelated influences leading one to wonder what they actually sold at the store.

The first thing one noticed upon entering through the back door was the smell. A hybrid of incense, soy sauce noodles, paints and a smell that can only be described best as “the smell of cluttered junk” wafting over you. The second thing was just as the outside was a hodge-podge of influences, so too was the inside crammed full of eclectic objects and antiques, old books, storage boxes with Asian lettering, painting supplies, and racks of shirts all arranged so that one could barely walk through this area.

The next thing one noticed was that this must be the ’storage/work’ room of the trailer. A small open archway draped with beads leading out to where they must have their cash register.

The last thing one noticed would be Madam Chang herself. It was impossible to tell her age, but she was probably in her late fifties, short, with her black hair tied up in a bun. She was standing with her arms crossed just behind two Asian twins, who were probably a year or two, younger than Jamie, although given their androgynous features, flat chest, and the fact neither of them spoke, it was difficult to tell their age as well. In fact, it was difficult to tell if they were boys or girls.

The twins continued to work efficiently and meticulously airbrushing designs on T-shirts draped over wooden workstations, without looking up.

“You not kidding.” She said to Bill in broken English. Her speech always had a very rapid cadence to it. It gave the impression she chose to drop words out of her speech, not because she had to, but because including them would be inefficient wastes of her time. There was also a hint of a Russian “Boris and Natasha” accent mixed into her English.

Walking over to Wendy and Jamie, who were still being held by their braids, she looked them up and down as if to be sizing them up.  She wrinkled her nose as if smelling a foul order, before boldly darting her hand out to pinch Wendy’s nipple.

When Wendy didn’t flinch, the woman seemed amused. “You give milk?”

“Not yet, Ma’am.” Wendy was surprised at the question. She did not think Bill would be able to make either her or her daughter express milk even though he had made them tweak their nipples several times a day for the past week (and use a baby breast pump). Her time training would be up long before that would happen. Chalking it up to him just liking to see them play with their tits, she hadn’t been worried about milk suddenly bursting forth from her boobs. She added since Madam Chang seemed to be waiting for more of a response “My husband and son remain hopeful, my udders will one day provide milk for their coffee in the morning.” Choosing one of the more disgusting things Chris had said to her in the morning to complete her answer.

“Too bad, market for milk. Breasts like yours, baby lick long time.” Was Chang’s response as she continued to look at the girls standing behind Bill and Chris naked.

“They didn’t pick the T-shirts!” Chris handed Chang back her merchandise.

“That surprise! They seem lazy, fat, American girl! They ready to work for Chang?” she asked as she circled the two girls.

“She will do the air brushed costumes, but she wanted you to stand outside her shop all night holding a sign pointing to her shop.” Bill explained “We managed to negotiate her down to an hour”.

Wendy was reminded of how her husband had “negotiated Rajhid down”, but ended up some how agreeing to much more. “We’re here to serve, Ma’am. We’ll pay our debt to you for the air-brushing as best we can.” Wendy was starting to wonder if she hadn’t bit off more than she could chew with her insistence on making the choice of “skin”, as opposed to ‘shirts’.

Chang asked “Where?”

“Here, Ma’am, for you?” Wendy answered with a confused expression.

Chang slapped her ass hard. “Where?”

“I don’t know the name of your store. That is where I am, Ma’am?” She answered again, straightening up as if she was in an affirmation.

“What it say on you ass, Where?”

Realizing she was being asked what is on her ass, Wendy took the more formal inspection one position, where she stood at attention and held her cheeks wide to reveal the vowel in her tattoo. “Whore, Ma’am”

“WHERE?” Chang read the freshly inked tattoo on the back of Wendy’s ass out loud, guessing the middle vowel.

Wendy didn’t answer, she pulled her ass cheeks apart, even further, revealing the “O” in the center that also happened to be the center of her asshole cherry.

“Okay, Whore. That make more sense. You whore?”

“For my husband, Yes ma‘am.” She felt another bigger slap on her ass. She recognized it as Chris’s hand.

“And my son, Ma’am.” Wendy found it much more difficult to say that, especially to strangers, even if it was obvious she answered to him as well.

“Okay whore can make more money than sign carry.” Chang seemed to want to re-arrange the deal.

Bill explained again to Madam Chang they just wanted to do an even trade, the costume for carrying the sign. Madam Chang seemed disappointed Wendy wanted to “waste all that money, to make. You have healthy daughter, she make too!” slapping the daughter on the butt, more to test her ass cheek’s firmness than to get her attention.

“Yuki & Kiko will paint whatever you want on them, but they better bring business, work hard! You pay full price otherwise, two hundred dollar!” She demanded handing them a book of images to choose from. Chris began leafing through it and quickly found SpongeBob and his squirrel girlfriend to show Chang.

Without acknowledging Chris, she turned her head to the twins who were laboring away at their work diligently. A string of what sounded like angry words issued from her mouth. It sounded something like “Wan Le Yikhuier zhexi Jinu shanque dan suihou wanchen nin de gonzo”.

The twins were a head shorter than Jamie was. They dropped what they were doing and immediately began working on Wendy and Jamie's paint job. It seemed as though they had no question at all what they were supposed to be painting. They did not even look at the guide images.

Wendy could not help but wonder how efficient, whatever language Madam Chang was speaking was, that they could get all that from a simple sentence.

Bill spanked his daughter across the ass for not getting in the same position as her mother. She had been waiting to be told what to do. “Get IN position one! Don‘t try to stall them from getting the job done!” Jamie shifted easily into the more formal inspection position, pushing her chin up, tits out, stomach sucked in and of course hands pulling ass cheeks apart.

“You got daughter trained good. Almost good as Korean girl.”

“Are you Korean?” Bill asked conversationally.

“Me?” Madam Chang scoffed “No way, why you think I am Korean?” As if, she was slightly insulted by the inference.

The twins worked very fast and efficiently with no idle time at all. Their hands were a blur as they moved their airbrush, blowing inks to coat the girls in a base coloring.

Jamie realized tomorrow was a school day. Her eyes went wide. “Daddy, Sir, will this paint come off tonight?”

Bill did not know the answer; he hadn’t planned that far ahead. He looked to Madam Chang.

“You squirrel girl?” Madam Chang said to Jamie with hands behind her back like a strict taskmaster.

“Yes Ma’am, I am squirrel girl.” Jamie said in the same stilted English, wondering what this had to do with her concern about going to school painted brown.

“Why you want this for?” Kiko (or perhaps Yuki) was already spray-painting Jamie brown all over like fur, giving her pink flourishes and flowers. She did not resist as they moved her elbow, or had her extend her knee so they could paint all over.

“To amuse my Father and Brother, Ma’am and earn clothes to go home in.,” she answered respectfully.

“You very nice tittay.” Madam Chang grabbed them and gave them a squeeze like she was testing tomatoes at an open air market place.

“Thank you, Ma’am, I am happy my ’Tittay’ amuse you.”

“You worth lot money in China, you know that?” If Jamie’s using her pronunciations of words to answer her bothered her, she did not let on.

“No ma’am, I didn’t know that.” Jamie answered, as she was being spun around to get her backside painted.

“Spread ass cheek.” The Madam’s short, choppy instructions were straight to the point and Jamie complied without hesitation.

“You have beautiful baby maker, and ass. Nice teeth.” She continued to assess Jamie as they painted over the tattoo she had fought so hard to get only a short time ago.

Her dad started to half wonder if she was sizing Jamie up to sell her to someone in China, or chop her up for a bowl of soup. It amused him the way Chang called out her observations about his daughter.Something about her snappy delivery of questions tickled him. On the other hand, he was feeling a little guilty about the way they manhandled the girls, especially Jamie, as if they were ducks to be plucked of their feathers. He decided to stick around a little longer before heading off with Chris and make sure the girls would be all right. He wanted to have fun at their expense, but Mikey’s friend or not, he felt obliged to wait.

If the shoe had been on the other foot, he imagined some alternate Universe where Wendy and Jamie still held all the cards and had taken the MEN to the fair. In his fantasy version of things, things had worked out pretty much the same except Mikey was a woman, an ugly, ugly woman. She had tattooed “ASSH” on his left cheek and “LLE” on his other, putting the O in the middle.

In Bill’s daydream, he was painted as Spoojedick. A parodyof Spongebobs long yellow nose being painted on Bill’s erect penis. Chris was painted up pink like Patrick the pink, goofy starfish best friend. In his daydream, Chris talked exactly like Patrick and made the same facial expressions, which is why as daydreams go, it didn’t have to make a lot of sense.

Bill shook his head, as if in so doing he was using the motion like an etch-a-sketch to erase all thoughts of that scenario out of his brain. He convinced himself instead to focus on the fact that unless things had changed last Friday the girls would have them here the way his daydream that was more like a nightmare was. It was his turn to have a little fun.

“So Ma’am, will this paint come off for school in the morning?” Jamie pouted as she repeated her question, her arms raised over her head, as they painted around her armpits.

“You talk much, but say little, Girl.” slapping her on the stretched muscles of her tight stomach without concern for smudging her paint. “You are like squirrel. You dash too fast, think very little about next branch, leap, but somehow you make next branch.”

Jamie was silent while she considered if Madam Chang’s words contained profound ancient wisdom or were utter gibberish.

“You get your blood, yet squirrel girl?” Chang asked.

“Yes Ma’am, I’ve already had my period, a few years ago.” She swallowed. It was very embarrassing to her to talk about her period. She was just glad she was not on it right now.

“Cao ni ma?”  Yuki asked Madam Chang, not making eye contact with Jamie.

“Yuki asks, if you have your period, why haven’t you grown any hair at all, you are like a little girl.” She said running her fingers across Jamie’s engorged clit hood dangling outside of her body, with a large hoop running through it. The touch caused her to spasm slightly, and her tits to jiggle.

“I am sixteen Ma’am.”

“You like when Madam Chang touch you on your bi.” pronouncing the last word, like it must mean cunt.

“What I like is irrelevant, Ma’am. My father and brother have instructed us to stand still and be painted everywhere.” Jamie said bravely.

Almost as if by cue, Yuki angled the airbrush directly over Jamie’s pussy and blew, causing her to dance awkwardly and lose her composure before righting herself to stand right back where she was.

“You bi is wet?” Chang sounded concerned.

“Yes Ma’am, I think it is. I am sorry about that, the air from the brush is stimulating me, and I’ve only recently got the hoop.” her answer being slightly forced.

“Ni ma mai pi” Madam Chang put her hand on Jamie’s now completely brown shoulder reassuringly as if those words were intended to console her. This was the first time the twins looked up with just a quick smile, before fearfully returning to their task.

“You SpongeBoob, you like? Chang turning her attention to Wendy, holding up a hand mirror she had managed to pick up from somewhere in all the junk while no one was looking.

Wendy could just barely see SpongeBob’s blue eyes painted over her boobs, her belly becoming his face. Madam Chang swung the back of the mirror against her bare ass hard. “Ass hard like rock, you like to be spanked?”

“No Ma’am, when I am spanked, it is usually to address one of my shortcomings, as a wife and mother.” Wendy said stoically as she would during an affirmation that her husband and son had given her.

Chang curled one finger under Wendy’s clit hood, and brought it back to her mouth to give it a lick, “Daughter bi wet, you not. Maybe you not turned on by all this.” Madam Chang seemed satisfied.

Wendy had been subjected to this humiliating treatment almost all week, so at first it came as no surprise to her that she was getting it from Madam Chang. She had to ask herself though if Chang treated all her customers who wanted airbrushing on their body this way? She chalked it up to the fact that Mikey and Bill probably told her about them, a fact reinforced by their walking in to the trailer completely naked.

They didn’t have much further, and the transformation would be complete. They would be painted up completely, SpongeBoob and Sandy Buttcheeks, the parody of the cartoon characters.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, Ma’am.” Wendy carefully considered speaking out of turn before continuing, “You haven’t told us too much about what we will be doing?” Wendy wondering how they would get away, even at night with standing outside virtually naked except for a few coats of paint.

“You take my cousins children Yuki and Kiko place. They work hard back here tonight while you go.” She gave the twins a stern look which made them work that much faster. “They paint up as power-ranger, do gymnastic, jump around, get people excited to come to see what Madam Chang sell.”

“You aren’t concerned with your,” Wendy considered carefully what to call them. They were flat chested, with very soft androgynous features, they could easily be boys OR girls Kiko and Yuki sounded like they may be girl‘s names, but she‘d made the same mistake bringing boy‘s presents to “Dylan” and “Dakota” only to learn they were girls in years past. She would not make that mistake again.

One of the twins lifted her left breast, and guided Wendy’s hand to hold it up while they sprayed the underboob area.

“You don’t seem to have any concern that Kiko and Yuki are painting us in the most intimate of body parts, you aren’t worried because of their age?” Wondering if the entire family works the fair and they do not even attend school.

“You talk much, like daughter. Not wet like daughter, but mouth like daughter.” Madam Chang said dismissively. “They see body, body is body.” She grabbed Wendy’s arm hard, jerking it so that her elbow was pointed up, “This skin” showing Wendy her own elbow to make a point. She poked two fingers, goosing Wendy on the asshole. “This skin, both same. Skin is skin. Who care? Money is money.”

“Good point, Ma’am.” Wendy realized they were just a lot more broad minded about it than she was raised to be. “So do people say anything when they are outside painted up as power rangers?”

“Don’t ask stupid question!” Madam Chang sneered. “They say, Hey look there, it power ranger, let’s go buy Madam Chang’s crap!” She said imitating her customers in her own broken English.

“I meant, you know, being painted up naked, I don’t know if people can see there.” She did not want to say “things” because she’d be punished for using a euphemism. “Their, whatever they have down here?” Wendy pointed to her groin.

“You whore; you don’t know what is down here?” Chang asked dumbfounded.

“I meant, isn’t it illegal to walk around naked in public, even with paint on, Ma‘am?” Wendy asked more to the point than she had been wanting to get too.

“What naked? You not naked. You within law. This fair, people want to see skin. Skin to win!” She chattered some instructions to Yuki and she came back with some extra props for their costumes.

“Ooh Mom!” Chris said excitedly. He had been sitting back quietly watching the entire thing play out while eating some licorice. “You get to accessorize!” his mock excitement sounding more like real excitement. It was hard to tell with Chris.

“Yes Sir, this should be a real barrel of laughs.” She spoke without being able to see him.

“You cover nipple. You have big nipple.” Chang, digging around in a box to fish out something that looked like a chip clip used to seal up snacks that have been opened but not finished. She was also holding a large button, the cheap kind that kids give away in school elections. It said “Madam Chang's Emporium of Oriental Adult Novelties and Air Brushed T-Shirts”

Chang opened the chip clip extra wide. With one in each hand, she let the teeth bite down into Wendy’s already puffy and sore nipples, causing her genuine pain. She began to unclasp Wendy’s bull hoop rings to remove them.

“May I ask what you are doing, Ma’am?” Wendy asked nervously.

“Titty too big, cannot put needle through clip. I will thread the button through your nipple ring.” Madam Chang said as if that should be obvious.

“But, I just got the piercing, I was told I cannot take it out for several weeks, or it will close up.”

“Don’t worry, Madam Chang put back in hoop when you done working. Why you so nervous.” Stabbing Wendy with the needle as she re-threaded the buttons through the hole left from removing her piercing. “These cheap anyway, when you done working, you husband come look to me for better body jewelry, I make deal.” tossing her nipple rings aside like so much garbage.

It actually offended Wendy emotionally to see them treated that way. She did not want to make a stink out of it, because no one would understand. She looked at those almost like her wedding ring, with sanctity. It had shocked and hurt Wendy when Mikey noticed right away that they were not good quality rings.

“You cry? Dry you eye.” Madam Chang said with a funny look on her face, when she finished replacing Wendy’s rings with the advertising buttons. They did cover her nipples completely. “Shake them”

Wendy fought back her tears and shook them. They gave off a jingling sound and she almost peed herself as they all laughed at her.

It was Jamie’s turns for clips, which she took rather in stride considering how sensitive and puffy her nipples were.

When it was her turn for the oversized buttons, she said “But I just had these put in today, Ma’am?”

“Everybody play with your nipple today?” Madam Chang asked as if she must have let everyone get a turn. “Not worry, you want me to make new hole?”

“Can I just wear the clip, Ma‘am. Won‘t it cover everything?”

“What point of doing, without advertise Madam Chang?”

“True. You are going to do this to our cunt rings, too?” her apparent disappointment being short-lived as she yelped. Madam Yang was stabbing the first needle through her already pierced tit to lock the button in place. Even the twins laughed at Jamie’s mewling cry.

“You worry about cunt a lot,” Madam Chang said using Jamie’s word for it this time, while brushing her finger against the engorged meaty piece clit. “You have snake pop head out of hole, can’t go back in!” smiling. “No don’t worry; you get something different for cunt.”

Chang held up a bushy fake tail, it was black, shaped more like an ostrich plume, which in the dark would probably suit a brown squirrel so that Jamie could see it. She could also see how Madam Chang was going to adhere the tail to her body. She looked at her dad with panic, he was patiently taking in the scene quietly, his face showing no sign he would intervene

“Spread ass” Madam Chang said with her trademark economy of words.

Jamie reluctantly put her hands behind her and held her ass cheeks fully apart for Madam Chang to do what she had to do.

“You very tight ass, I bet you never spend money.” Madam Chang joked, only adding to Jamie‘s tension.

She sniffed “Yes Ma‘am, I am a tight ass. My father and brother handle any money I earn for them, because I am not trusted to make good decisions with iiiiiiit.” Jamie’s voice extending nervously at the end of that sentence, as the rather large rubber anal plug was pressed against her back entry. She had had fingers and enemas put up her butt, but nothing too much larger than that. She begged, “Please Ma’am, would you lubricate it? It’s not going to fit!?” straining, holding her eyes shut and clenching her teeth as the rubber tried to invade her asshole.

“Use lube, tail slide out. Get dirty!” Mrs. Chang warned, but changed her mind. “You Sandy cheeks, so you get sand on dildo, just put back in if it fall out, okay with me.” Pulling the plug back from what little progress it had made just at the tip of her tight ass and lubricating it with some unknown lotion she must have had back there as well.

“Relax you ass, unclench you muscle. You get Zen to meditate.” Madam Chang advised her softly.

‘Pplooop’ the plug went right in and up Jamie’s asshole. Her eyes opened wide and she made an “Nnnnnnnn” sound, before quietly accepting that tonight, she had been ‘inked, pinned, hooped and tailed as well now. Madam Chang pushed the plug in as far as it would go; giving it a twist so that it felt like it was pushing upwards against her lower backbone.

“Now you tighten your ass. Keep it very tight, clench like you biting with ass. No drop”. Madam Chang pulled a part of the feathered tail forward past Jamie’s taint, using just enough of it to cover her pussy lips. It snapped into place. It was some technology similar to flexible snap-on bracelets Jamie remembered when she was a pre-teen. You held them out flat and hit someone’s wrist with them, and they wrapped around it.

“Shake Tail”

Jamie complied with her order. The bushy tail shimmied left when her ass cheeks went right; giving the impression, she had control over how it swayed.

“Shake tit”

Jamie complied as well shimmying just her upper body and making a clinking sound as she did, similar with her mother because of the new piercings that had been driven through her nipples, painlessly and without effort. It hadn’t felt like bursting, ripping skin parting for a foreign invader to be driven through the flesh and popping out the other side. She seemed surprised.

“Acupuncture, Bitch!” Madam Chang knew what she was wondering. How had these not hurt going in, not a drop of blood, not a hint of pain. Jamie was pleasantly surprised, and secretly wondered if Mikey knew what he was doing after all.

Madam Chang admired the finishing touches put on Jamie, as Yuki stuck a fake set of buckteeth in her mouth.

“SpongeBoob turn!” She announced, signaling Jamie was ready.

Wendy was already holding herself spread for Madam Chang, dutifully waiting her turn. Bill had been fucking her ass nightly, Steve had been fucking her ass daily, and between them, they had been putting a lot of things up there that probably didn’t belong up there (As far as she was concerned). When she had control over her life and everyone else, the idea of willingly putting anything up her ass had seemed completely disgusting and pointless.

Now that Bill and Chris, (She hated to admit even in her own silent rationalizations of her behavior Chris had that control when thinking about things that Steve and Bill were doing. Chris had put fingers and small objects in both Wendy and Jamie’s asses but not to the extent, or with the intent to masturbate them in as the older men had.

Now that Bill and Chris had control over her ass, and she was being anally trained daily, she was ready for whatever Madam Chang had for her. Which was a green shawl wraparound made with yarn.

“You want something up ass too?” Madam Chang asked seriously, while unfolding the green macramé style shawl.

Wendy thought about her answer. She did not want something up her ass, if it was not required to go up there. On the other hand, Jamie had just taken a medium sized plug, and was gritting her teeth, trying to get used to the discomfort. She also wanted to please Bill and Chris; this was the “Night of gold stars!”

“You want think on that, and get back to me?” Madam Chang asked sarcastically noting Wendy‘s indecision with a bemused look.

She looked at her husband Bill who was resting against a teakwood cabinet filled with assorted plastic ornaments. His face giving no sign he wanted to answer for her. Not that he could not answer, or was being indecisive. It was that he wanted her to have to choose.

“If you want to put something up my ass, for my costume,” Wendy qualified herself, “then it’s big enough to take something the size you put up my daughter’s ass.” She offered.

Madam Chang gave a wry smile, standing behind Wendy and stabbed a finger into her asshole, deeply. Tickling her finger around inside, making Wendy’s nipples go involuntarily hard, which was probably 1/10th the stimulation her daughter was constantly under. Chang pulled out the finger effortlessly showing it to her, yellow paint and all. “I think you can take bigger up you ass, than you pretty daughter.” Her voice sounding confident.

“Yes Ma’am, that is probably true. Put whatever you think needs to go up my asshole, which can fit” She shut her eyes, hating to admit this in front of everyone. Even with the broad-mindedness of the Changs, she felt it was small consolation that the twins could not understand what she was saying, if they could see what was happening.

“Nothing need go up you ass.” Madam Chang instructed pragmatically. “You dirty, dirty girl, want everything up butt. Skirt is good enough.”

“Ma’am, Can I ask why they painted so closely, even partly inside of me, to cover my bottom half in yellow paint, if I was going to wear this wraparound anyway?”

“Look Down” Chang said finishing the single knot on her left hip that would hold up the sari-like wrap around skirt.

Wendy had been looking straight ahead as instructed earlier. She looked down and immediately saw that the wraparound was made of thick yarn in a webbing pattern that easily had 2-3 inch gaps all the way around. “With the paint and the skirt, no one see your dirty brown hole, Not worry!” slapping Wendy on the butt.

“You take sign” handing them white signs painted with slogans in English on one side and in an Asian language on the other. They were about 3 feet long and shaped like an arrow, thin and light, designed for spinning and directing customers to their boutique.

“You go now, go front. My grandson Short Round keep eye on you!!”

As the girls were about to head into the unknown on the midway, Bill stopped his wife. “Say Cheese”. She was stunned and could not think of anything to do at first as she turned to face him. She was supposed to do something provocative and interesting. There was just this blank look on her face as she realized her predicament.

“I am so sorry Sir, give me a moment.” She tried to manage the sign so she could hold it up for another picture, but it was so cluttered in the walking space that she couldn’t do it without effort.

“That’s okay, bitch!” Bill laughed dryly. “The look on your face was priceless. It says it all… basically ‘We’re fucked!!”

As Jamie and Wendy were dismissed through the backdoor and out to the midway, they could still hear laughter coming from inside.

The Family Feud III

Chapter Seven
“Sales with a Smile”

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 26
JAMIE: 29

Inside the trailer, Bill and Chris said their goodbyes to Madam Chang.

Chang smiled at the men, her eyes sparkling as she straightened up from the hunch she was walking with before.

In perfect English, she said, “Wow, I can't believe they bought that. Mikey was right. There really are ALL kinds out there.”

“When Mikey explained this idea, it sounded kind of funny, but I am starting to feel bad for them.” Bill admitted.

“Why? You told us yourself, that they had tied you up by your dicks and led you around the house?” Madam Chang asked. Her voice not at all accusatory and sharp as it was earlier, but helpful and reasoned.

Yuki and Kiko laughed, no longer working rapidly on shirts, the charade over.

“You two don't laugh, or I really WILL send you outside with them!” She said playfully to the twins.

“Yessah Mama!” Kiko putting on a voice like a samurai, and bowing slightly at the head, before agreeing with Madam Chang “Yeah, what they did to you was fucked up.” also in a completely Americanized English accent.

“You ASKED them if they were willing to do this to make it up to you. They KNOW they did wrong and they need the consequences for betraying your trust to be harsh, or else they will beat themselves up much worse than you ever will, with the guilt. They love you, but they were cunts. Now they pay.”

“How come I feel so bad about it then?” Bill asked honestly.

“Because you are a pussy?” Yuki high-fived Kiko and the two laughed at the good-natured burn on Bill.

“Look, if they hadn’t picked skins, you were going to take them out into the fair in just a t-shirt, and probably shove corn dogs up their asses and make them do all these horrible things.” Madam Chang played Devil's advocate to Bill's concern.

Bill nodded, noting the corn dog thing sounded like a pretty good idea, filing it away for later. He wondered if she was just exaggerating to use as an example, or how that might actually fit up someone's poop hole. Chris just licked his lips, half-listening.

“You let them pick, and you were willing to pay two-hundred dollars to me, to have a little fun at their expense. I've got a business to run, but I really like Mikey's work” She slipped her silk robe down at the shoulder to reveal a dragon tattoo on her shoulder, demurely.

“You worry too much. Give them to me for an hour, I promise they won't die. I will run them ragged, and they will be so happy to get back to you, they will probably thank you for rescuing them from my clutches. Go have fun, have a beer with your son. Everything will be okie dokie.” She reassured him, walking him to the backdoor.

When he was gone, Yuki asked Madam Chang “You think he bought that?”

“Who care, you get back, make shirt, make shirt!” and she grabbed him playfully as if she were going to gobble him up, while he smiled play-fighting back.

Meanwhile....

Jamie and Wendy stalked towards the front of the awning that covered most of the merchandise. Things that one can find in a flea market, that are of questionable morals and purpose. Ceramic mugs shaped like a tit with a hole in the nipple to drink out of. Novelty figurines of a flasher in a trench coat, if you press the button that says “Don't Press,” his coat opens and a plastic dick pops up. 

There were T-shirts, panties, hats and other apparel on racks, custom painted. All ranging from simply offensive, “My other ride is your mom.” The blatantly racist confederate flags and an electric chair, “I'll buckle up when Obama does.” The mean spirited, “Dolphins are just gay sharks,” The trashy “I support single moms” featuring a dancing figure around a pole. There were hundreds of “I am so happy I could shit” captioned articles of clothes, but customers could also get custom work done.

Signs and mirrors, all painted in much the same way as the shirts. Mirrors that read, “If my ass is in this mirror, you may already be farted on,” or “Mount over bed for maximum stimulation.” Welcome mats painted to read “Fuck Off” in a happy, flowery font.

There was a small shelf of “Personal Massagers” that were clearly dildos, in everything except looking exactly like a penis. One was even named the “Vibrating Bowling Pin.”

There were fuzzy handcuffs, “Games for Lovers” featuring dice that told the players what part to grope next (apparently).

The fact that this merchandise was sold at the fair was shocking to Wendy. The fact that there was also dollar store merchandise of brushes, saws, rulers, markers, and plastic toys only made it seem even more inappropriate for some reason.

“They didn't sell this at the fair, when I was in high school!” Wendy whispered, feeling like the man who just discovered he'd landed on a world ruled by the apes, and everything has changed.

“This is no different than Spencer's gifts in the mall? Remember when we went in there to get a gag-gift for someone from your Office?”

Wendy suddenly remembered the small chain outlet, it seemed like so long ago. So much had changed since then. It had only been a few months. It was for a friend turning 40, and she wanted to get some black balloons and “Over the hill” party supplies.

Jamie had come with her, and they had both been shocked. Rows upon rows of shirts featuring pictures of Marijuana, “Give me head til I am dead,” not unlike the ones hanging up here. Bongs, adult novelties even more graphic than the selection at Madam Chang’s, black lights and ceramic skulls.

They left without buying anything once they walked down the 'adult aisle'.

“Well we've come full circle, then haven't we?”

“What do you mean, mom?”

“A few months ago we didn't want to set foot into a Spencer’s.” she smirked “Now we work at one!”

“Lazy lady!!” a young man who was barely as tall as the cash register had been trying to get their attention.

“That must be our new boss,” Wendy whispered conspiratorially to her daughter, as they walked over to where he was, trying to appear helpful.

“Why you so lazy, you stand here, not listen to me?”

Wendy had seen how submissive Kiko and Yuki were behaving. This young man's attitude was in direct contrast. She wondered if maybe that meant they were girls?  He was belligerent and angry with them, but his tiny frame and squeaky voice only made her want to pat his head. He was like a little chihuahua talking to a Great Dane, she thought to herself.

“What shall we do, Sir?” Wendy asked him, trying to suck in the condescension that she felt towards the tiny guy ranting at her right now. She was trying to figure out if he was a child or a man, or a child-man of some kind. He yelled like a grown up, but looked like a child.

“You stupid? Go stand out in front. Spin sign!! Spin sign.”

“Yes Sir” Jamie and Wendy dutifully marched out to the front of the awning, where they took up positions close enough to one another that they could hear each other talk, but not so close they would hit each other with the signs they carried.

The path in front of them was only about ten feet wide in most places. This was not the main street of the county fair. Traffic was brisk, sometimes busy, sometimes almost no one. There were rarely more than a dozen people at a time travelling up or down the trail. This was an aisle with flea market like wares, food and few games or rides. That was to their advantage, it would be much busier than Mikey’s shop had been, but not as bad as it could have been out in one of the more populous sections of the fair.

Across from them, there was another setup like Madam Chang’s that sold knock-off designer purses and sunglasses but it was dark and closed. Curiously, the merchandise remained out in the open.

To the left side, a bakery trailer, where sweet smells of doughy goodness drifted on the wind. On the right side, a snack cart that sold deep-fried everything.

They spun the signs hand over hand, counter clockwise, getting into a position near one of the lights at the front of the store.

Jamie examined her sign as she spun it. One side was in an oriental script, but the flip side written in English said, “Come sample our wares! Madam Chang's Discount Novelty Emp.” the abbreviation seemed to be the hasty mistake of someone who had started the sign and ran out of space to write.

Wendy's sign read, “Touch anything U like, U break, U buy, Madem Changs”. She was surprised, that the sign had misspelled the word “Madam,” but did not think anything of it, than noting it stood out as odd for sign-makers to have signs that were incorrect. Wendy chalked it up to the fact English was not their native language without a second thought.

“You boring, spin sign better!!” the boy yelled from his cash register. There were only a few customers, who did not seem to take notice of the girls. They simply continued to browse and poke around, before moving to the next shop. This, unfortunately for Wendy and Jamie, who were famished, was a deep-fried donut holes place. The smell of the sugar and cinnamon yeasty donuts was driving them both crazy. Even if they could eat right now, they had not a red cent between them to buy something to eat. At least the smell and hunger, took their mind off the fact that both of them were shirtless, their tits completely bare except for a layer of paint.

The girls were more animated, spinning their sign, flipping it over so that both sides could be seen, trying to point passers-by into the shop. They were giving it what Wendy called her “Old College Try.”

People stared at them, some grinned. A few walked into the store, although there was nothing to indicate that they would not have walked in on their own without the girl's encouragement.

“You know one of the good things about training, is that it is making me appreciate different foods. I would settle for a stepped on day old donut right about now. I would never have considered eating something so unhealthy before this.” Wendy admitted only half-serious. They both smelled the grilled steak and onions mixing with the sweet aroma of fresh donuts on the wind.

“Why Mom, I do declare. Are you admitting that you've learned something from the hardships we've faced?” Jamie switched to her southern-belle, Dixie Sinclair alter-ego voice teasingly.

“I hate to say it out loud, where your father may hear, but yes. I think it has opened my eyes to some things that were right in front of me. I am not saying I've loved this, but it's been educational.” Wendy explained.

“I don't think you are worried about Dad hearing.” Jamie grinned mid-twirl. “I don't think you want to admit it to yourself. It has toughened us up some. The way I look at it, it is like Cheer boot camp. You train hard for two weeks, then you get your focus back, and you are stronger for having stuck it out.”

“We started this last Friday night; technically the first full day was Saturday.” Wendy was silently trying to do the math in her head. “That is six days. I think on average I am only making about four stars a day, and you are about five stars. It may actually put us longer than two weeks at this rate. By my estimate, we've got about 18 more days each at least”

Tossing her sign up in the air, spinning and catching it as it fell, surprisingly she was able to do the math in her head as she caught it. “So? We can get 10 more eachtonight. That will put us closer to six a day. We may even be done sooner than 2 weeks. It is a marathon, not a sprint.” Jamie seemed more at ease with this arrangement than her mother.

“I don't want…” Wendy was about to say that she did not want to finish before Jamie did. After everything that had gone on tonight, she realized that might be a bombshell that would set her off into thinking she was being coddled.

“You don't want what?” Jamie asked her mom to finish her sentence as the two casually tried to drum up business for Chang’s.

“I don't want to think about it right now, but I really want one of those donuts!” The two grinned and consoled each other. Wendy decided to not finish her real thought with her daughter about trying to drag her feet so Jamie could finish first in Gold Stars and not have to do this alone.

“You remember the first weekend, out in the yard when you told me your plan to do reverse psychology?” Wendy changed the subject.

Jamie was not quite sure what her mom was talking about. “When I said I would try to be a little bubble headed extrovert, who got off on this situation, and encouraged it, to take all the fun out of it for them?”

“That is the one.” Wendy answered remembering they talked about all the ways that could go wrong, and how much she would have to endure if she tried that gambit.

There were many ways that could backfire; the most obvious backfire was encouraging the men to be as outrageous as possible may actually make them do it!! They thought though, this strategy could if played right, take some of the fun out of it for them. Kind of like a peeping tom who looks in the window of an extrovert. Cancels out their secret joys of voyeurism if the peeper is aware and does not care.

“Mom, do you think I got the tattoo and took the plug up my asshole because I am trying to freak them out?” Jamie asked, understanding why her Mom asked her that.

“The thought had crossed my mind. That maybe you were just being subtle about it, but trying to beat them at their own game?” Wendy said, feeling that theory sounded a little weak now that she heard it out loud.

“Do you think I would try a strategy like that, without telling my partner in crime?” Jamie's wholesome, white smile gleamed in the flash of the fair lights.

Wendy conceded her point, while feeling a little guilty herself that she had done some things without telling Jamie. That she made deals to protect her, for her own good. She would keep those secrets, for now.

“I just plan to get through this. I may as well be a good sport, and try to make the most of the hardship, and learn from it. No point in complaining, it won't change anything.” This was Jamie concisely. Life giving her lemons, and her pissing lemonade.

“Good sport is one thing. You've got an anal plug up your ass, almost completely naked and a tattoo that you've got to live with for the rest of your life.” Wendy said sounding very sincerely concerned.

“Tell me, Mom” Jamie juggled “Which of those three things don't you have?”

Wendy knew it was not the anal plug she wanted to discuss. She let it drop. It was time to keep things light. Have a little fun with their predicament. It would not help to bring up her concerns again about the tattoo. She wondered also if maybe there was a little projection on to her daughter of her own fears she herself showed bad judgment.

The two continued to chitchat, getting a little bolder about talking to people “Come try on our shirts, buy them right off our backs!”

“Don't see something you like? They will paint it on you! Or your favorite article of clothing!” they promised the potential shoppers. It was interesting to wonder about the lives of each person as they walked by briskly, or slowly. Where were they going? Would they all end up in the same place eventually?

Isn’t that how life works? The midway is the metaphor. No matter how fast, or how slow you walk, everyone gets to where they are headed. That is if they don’t take a side-ways turn on to a new path. Wendy smiled to herself picturing the family taking that walk to Mikey's gazebo as allegory to taking that side path in life.

Dozens of people, mostly groups of kids or families, passed by laughing and talking. The fair was fairly well lit up, the lights blinking and flashing in all directions, which meant as people hustled to the rides, food or games that interested them, they simply didn't have anything that directed them to stop and look at Wendy and Jamie.

Jamie was doing a routine that she learned in cheer camp, extolling the virtues of the store “Finest shop at the fair!” and “Come on in and see what we got!”

Her mother followed suit. Reminded of the mother/daughter cheer that they had done earlier in the day when it was not so dark out. They had the crowd going, for at least a minute.

“Should I be disappointed, no one has freaked out?” Wendy said to her daughter while the two danced around in front of the store.

“I think it's just that no one would expect to see someone fully naked in this situation. I think they just assume we have on bathing suits under the paint. We look festive enough, we are supposed to be out here. We'll just stand not so close to the brightest lights, and get through it. It's cool, you got my back, and I got yours” Jamie smiled confidently and asked, “Why do you ask? Do you wish they'd freak out?”

“Oh hell no, I got so worried when they were painting us, I just expected there to be air raid sirens, and people running, cats and dogs living together, mass hysteria” She laughed quoting a line from an old 1980s movie, and being reminded that Bill had only twenty minutes earlier done the same thing. It only reinforced that they WERE meant to be together to her.

“You seem to be taking the butt plug well.” Sounding strange coming from a Soccer Mom type like Wendy.

“You know, I never really thought anyone, especially my mother would ever say that to me.” Jamie giggled avoiding the topic.

“Do you mind if my daughter takes a picture with you?” came a voice from the darkness. Jamie and Wendy squinted and saw a family of four, pushing a stroller.

“I don't see why not” Wendy tried in vain to do a SpongeBob imitation, inviting them to come closer.

“No, Sandy Cheeks!” the little kid pointed at Jamie.

Jamie stuck out her tongue at her Mom playfully. Her mocking gesture indicating, “Hah, I got picked and you didn't!” but it was all in jest. The plastic buckteeth and bushy tail only served to make her seem cuter when she did so.

Jamie knelt with the girl, bending down to keep her chest parallel with the ground, in the hopes from this angle, her face and shoulders were all that would be seen.

“Wow, that was cool.” Jamie said flattered that it had not been a humiliating experience. The little girl had picked that she take a picture with her over the title character of the show.

“So you think you can get more pictures than me?” Wendy smiled impishly “Care to make a little wager?”

Jamie could be just as competitive as her mom could. Their bets were usually very low stakes; it was more the joy of competing that made them try to outshine each other. Something in their nature compelled them to compete when they were around someone else who was that way also. The competition would keep their minds off their situation; make the time go by faster. This was not the first time they had made a side bet. They had done them even before they ever started training, although the games and stakes were far different then.

“Does that last picture count?” Jamie asked.

“Sure does, the first one to ten pictures with someone from the fair wins!” Wendy found it easier to seem decisive when the men were not around.

“What If they want both of us in the picture?”

“Then we both are in it graciously, just like you were in that picture with the girl. It counts as one for both of us.”

The two danced and jiggled for passers-by as they discussed the nature of the bet, with one last decision to make about the bet. What were the stakes?

“Whoever loses has to wear her costume home.” Wendy suggested.

“What if Dad wants us to change?” Jamie asked covering her bases.

Wendy nodded acknowledging her point. Neither of them really wanted to humiliate the other (Although they could at times get a little carried away once they were actually in a contest and the desire to be the best/win got the best of them). They had also been stripped of just about any ownership of anything they could offer each other, so that made trading anything fairly pointless.

“You could wear my tail, and I take your shawl.” Jamie smiled.

“Okay, after it’s been up your poop chute? Just pop it right in my peanut butter? What would SpongeBoob do with Sandy Cheeks tail, anyway?” Wendy giggled.

Jamie smiled too. With the lights playing off her face, she bore such a resemblance to pop star “Taylor Swift” her mom knew she hated to be reminded of that, so she didn’t say it.

Jamie joked aloud “You got your chocolate in my peanut butter!”

Wendy looked at her confused, continuing to shimmy around to mostly apathetic passersby.

“That is what Chris would have said if he were here. About sticking the butt plug from my ass, into your ass. My chocolate, in your peanut butter.” Jamie grinned.

That is exactly what her brother probably would have said; Wendy wondered who in the family passed on such weird DNA to them. She changed the subject “How about whoever wins, gets a star from the other girl.” If it worked, she could use it as a way to funnel stars to Jamie to get her out of this sooner, without spoiling the illusion she had earned them.

“You think Dad will let us do that?” Jamie asked.

“Probably. If not, we will say that is a condition that makes the game a tie. It’s all in fun, what is one star between home girls?” Wendy tried to dance as if she was being funky to a distant “We are Family…I got all my sisters and me!!” disco music playing for one of the rides.

“Mom, sorry to break it to you but you dance like a white girl!”

“So do you!” Wendy was so busy joking with her counterpart she did not notice the little man standing at her feet. He was holding what may be a real scimitar, his hands on his hips.

“You think this happy hour, get going at it. You talk more to each other, than to customer!” He raised his hands in frustration. “You going to need kick to ass to motivate. SALES. MONEY, HONEY!!” slapping his back pocket where he kept his wallet.

Wendy could not be sure if he was an adorable faced kid, or one of those midgets with whatever Gary Coleman had. He had a foul temper and even fouler mouth, with a chip on his shoulder. Too much for someone who looked so young to have.

“I am not sure if I can bend low enough for you to kick me in my ass, Sir. Would you settle for shins?” Wendy said sweetly, her voice dripping with honey and submission. no trace of sarcasm. Despite the words being just that.

“I can put my first in your butt!!!” he actually punched her in the ass cheek, and realizing it was such a hard muscle he walked away back to his cash register as if he were done and not retreating. “You got bone only in the ass. Need more blubber, where is the blubber, when you need it.”

Jamie agreed to the bet, but asked her mom why she was so mean to him.

“I don’t know if he is a midget or a little boy, something about him just rubs me wrong.” She admitted.

“We’ve got to be nice to everyone, generous, honest, submissive, show respect.” Jamie said to her mother.

Before Wendy could reply sarcastically, “Preach on Sister Jamie!” noting that her ‘perfect’ daughter still had bad days too. A family walked up, “You do pictures?”

“Yes we would love to take pictures, Hi. Who are you? I am Sandy Cheeks!” Jamie smiled at the young boy enthusiastically. She spoke in a southern drawl not unlike her Dixie Sinclair character, except without as much pretension, so she sounded like a good old country girl from down the road.

“I am Dustin!” a precious 11 year old announced, “This is my sister Ashley who is a doo-doo head, and my Dad and Mom. It is our pleasure to meet you, Sandy.”

“And I am SpongeBoob!” Wendy tacked on, in a comical voice. It was obvious to the parents that the joke was intended for them, and meant to play down the fact that she was a female (who happened to have big knockers) painted to look like a male character. Dustin did not hesitate to offer a similar introduction to SpongeBob, failing to catch the play on words.

The Father wanted in the picture with his son; he put his arm around Wendy and whispered, “They only get the jokes they are supposed to get!”

Wendy understood his meaning. She had noticed parents taking their kids into Madam Chang’s shop with them. If they are too young to understand some of the adult humor, they just process it as whatever they can relate too.

Chris had sung “I was gonna clean my room, but then I got hives. Then I got hives.” until he was about thirteen and realized the rap song he was singing along too was “Then I got high, then I got high.” At that point, he was ready to understand what marijuana was.

This made the idea that she was theoretically naked in this family’s picture, far more palatable. The buttons over her boobies, the wrap, it was good camouflage. It added a certain amount of “No really, WE are supposed to be out here like this.” legitimacy to their taking pictures with strangers that may end up cherished family memories.

As the family was about to walk away, the little boy who adored Jamie, turned to her and said, “May I have a kiss from Mrs. Sandy Cheeks?” in the most charming way.

“Why yes, you may, Dustin, but don‘t make SpongeBob jealous!”

She bent over at the waist to kiss him on the forehead and he popped up playfully on his tiptoes, planting a kiss directly on her lips. “Honk!” he squeezed one of her boobs and ran off playfully. He was red-faced, grinning and precocious. Racing ahead of his family, because he knew he was in trouble for what he had just done, but he didn't really care. As of this moment, he was on top of the world.

“I am so sorry, about that. He does that to our babysitter too. I was about to warn you before he tricked you with his cute little rascal act.” The mother said, slinging her camera back into the purse. Her attitude suggesting she didn’t see the big deal ‘boys will be boys’ with a shrug.

“That’s okay, boy’s rule!” Jamie smirked as the family walked away.

“Okay, so what was that?” Wendy said cynically as the two returned to spinning and twirling signs.

“What? I was respectful, and sweet, outgoing! “

“What happened to honest and submissive?” Wendy asked pointing out she had said Sandy Cheeks, not Sandy Butt Cheeks, and she had not called her by her character’s name either. She had tried to seem innocent. The point she wanted to make which seemed to be getting lost was that there were times they had to cool it. This felt like a good time to do that, since Bill and Chris were not supervising.

I didn’t cuss that little fart for kissing me on the mouth.” Jamie said trying to spit out whatever the taste was. “Ick, sour apple, and I think popcorn.”

“He slipped you the tongue?” Wendy said surprised.

“He sure did, that little horn dog. Here I thought he was all innocent and cute, and he was just trying to get a shot at my tits and to try to French me!” she said surprised.

“Jamie, honey. I hate to break it to YOU.” Reminding her daughter of when she had used that same phrase to mock her funky dancing. “He was about 11 years old. The baby voice had to be an act. Just so you know, the dad hugged me, and grabbed my butt while his wife took the picture.” She paused to laugh about the universal nature of men, “Guys are going to be trying to act all innocent and cute, just to get a shot at your tits and French you for the rest of your life, until you are married.” Wendy used her exact words to help bring home the point.

“Or for some of us, even after we are married.”

“That is a low blow,” Wendy said seriously. “I serve other men; because that is the arrangement I have with your Dad.”

“So what would you have had me do then?” Jamie was still thinking about the criticism that she had not felt comfortable saying Sandy Butt Cheeks. “Open my mouth to the little monster, encourage him?”

“No. Chris and your Dad might. I wouldn’t.” Wendy smirked. “I was just trying to get you to see that maybe there are times we shouldn’t” Wendy was interrupted by a large mountain of a man.

“Excuse me, do you know where the bathroom is supposed to be, Ma‘am?” with a thick Arkansas accent, John Deere Hat, Flannel shirt and dusty old blue jeans. He stood about six and a half feet tall, and probably weighed about 350lbs.

“Why I sure don’t, Pardner. You can ask Sandy Buttcheeks here.” Wendy did her hopelessly unauthentic impression of SpongeBob thumbing in the direction of her daughter.

“Why they call you Sandy Buttcheeks?” the large man asked curiously. He seemed like a trucker, or a lumberjack. He was standing with another guy of an equally impressive stature.

“Cuz sometimes I likes ta' cool my cheeks in the sand at the beach!” making a 'tee-hee' sound as she did. Jamie improvised, putting her hand behind her back to lift her tail and fell on her butt on the dirty clay walkway. As she wiggled it around in the dirt, “Oh that IS refreshing. You should try it sometime” She hammed it up.

The two rednecks looked like they had just seen the stupidest shit they had ever seen in their life. That was until they both started laughing hysterically.

“God damned, and what the fuck are you supposed to be?” he asked Wendy. His tone was not impolite. This seemed like how he would talk all the time. Seemed normal coming from him.

“I am SpongeBoobs; let me get a look at you.” She put her hands around both of her bare tits, and moved them around like eye stalks playfully as she was coming towards him, speaking in her cartoon voice “My, you are a big one. You must have your own zip code!”

He laughed, and started to walk away with his friend to find himself a bathroom. Thoroughly amused with whatever it was that he just saw.

“Wait, would you like a picture with SpongeBoob?”

He held up his hand to indicate No, as he walked away.

“I’ll be your best friend!” Wendy was still doing the voice, trying to get one up on her daughter.

His hand was still waving goodbye as he walked away.

“C’mon it’s free. Take your picture with me. I saw you got a digital camera.” Wendy called out in desperation.

The giant was almost at the donut shop next to them. No question he would be putting away about 50 of those donuts.

“Give me 1 donut hole, and I’ll let you hold my eyes when you take a picture with me?” She said in desperation, jokingly. She much preferred him to some family with kids.

He stopped. Thought about it and kept walking to the donut stop.

“Hah, I see your game SpongeBoob!” Jamie said in her sweet sassy country accent. “You want to bribe them. You wanna take those stars away from Sandy Buttcheeks!” She wiggled her ass, while standing in place as she dusted the actual dirt from sitting on the ground..

“I thought you were going to lose your tail.” Wendy said in her regular voice, seeing as no one was paying attention to them, not taking her daughter seriously.

Jamie ignored her Mom’s comment and with the next passing family she called out playfully in her imitation country accent “Howdy, Any Fellers out there want to kiss me, and make my boyfriend, SpongeBoob jellus?” purposely slurring Jealous so she could justify also saying “SpongeBoob” as a play on words.

“Take a picture with me, and you get one kiss free.” The family stopped. A 16-year-old boy (she thankfully didn’t know from school) ran up after conferring with his dad. Gave her a quick kiss on the lips and ran away.

“Hahah, no picture. Doesn’t count!” Wendy laughed at her daughter. The exchange would not go down as a point for Jamie towards their bet to get ten pictures first.

The grandson appeared underfoot again, this time wielding a small broom, swinging it around at the girls who dodged him. “This not you make-out time. This you customer service time. You want kiss them, only if they buy, buy buy!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Wendy bent down at the knees, called him over to her, kissed him on the forehead. This surprised the impatient man-boy, but also served to get his attention.

“Would you ask Kiko and Yuki to make a new sign for us” She explained it to him and he nodded cheerfully in agreement.

The Family Feud III

Chapter Eight
“I'll buy THAT for a dollar”

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 26
JAMIE: 29

“What did you ask him for? He is excited for once.”

“I told him, we’d do free hugs and pictures for anyone who buys anything at the store!” Wendy smiled. Proud of her entrepreneurial solution. “He said he would go paint us a new sign right away!”

The two continued to try in vain to get a couple of pictures with passersby who seemed to have more on their mind than photos at the fair. With each passerby, they used a little flirty fishing to try to bring the dad back around. The mom usually helped reel him back off the line though.

In less than five minutes, the little man-boy grandson of Mrs. Chang came waddling back out of the trailer holding a sign on a stake and a wooden mallet. “Here, you hold it, you hammer?”

Wendy who was holding the sign wanted to read it first. She did not blame him for using the cheap labor at his disposal (namely them). She bent down on one knee and held the sign as she read.

“Free Hugs, Free Picture with purchase or $1 donation. SpongeBoob or Sandy Buttcheeks”.

The first line of the sign seemed about what she had asked for. The donation was a creative touch on their part. The sign seemed a little slapped together, considering they sold signs.

“$1 kiss SpongeBoob or Sandy Buttcheeks”

The next line startled Wendy. They probably still had about 40 minutes of time left on their service. She looked at Jamie and shrugged. “Okay, it’s like a kissing booth. We can kiss them on the cheek.”

“Unless they are cute!” Jamie smirked at her mom playfully.

“Everything else negotiable, ask Short Round.”

The third and final line read. “Who is Short Round?”

“Me Bitch!” He kicked Wendy in the ass as hard as he could since she was bent down to the ground to hold the sign. All he managed to do was hurt his foot.

“I am so sorry, Short Round Sir, did I hurt you?” Wendy asked him like a mother comforting a baby’s boo-boo. She sounded perfectly sincere, but it was obvious she was laughing inside.

When they had the sign in place right between where they were standing, underneath a lamp hanging down from the awning, Short Round went back to his cash register, which allowed them the opportunity to talk to one another without him breathing down their necks.
“Mom, that is mean, be nice to him, or I am telling Dad! I am serious.” Jamie warned her mom.

“Can I be mean to him, if I give you one of my stars?” Wendy was technically not joking, but her temperament seemed to suggest she was.

They didn’t have a chance to finish their conversation, as a kindly man in his mid-50s, with the look of a learned college professor stepped up behind them, hands in his slacks pockets. He read the sign, looked at them, looked back at the sign.

He pulled out two dollars. “Which one is SpongeBoob?” clearly he didn’t seem the type of person who would know children’s cartoons.

“I am!” Wendy tried her cartoon voice cheerfully.

“Then I want the other one, Sandy Buttcheeks?” He tried to say the name without laughing.

Jamie perked up, stood up straight, proud she was picked over her mother. Took the two dollars, and give him a kiss on each cheek.

“That is it?” he seemed surprised. He was older than her own Dad was. Jamie had no interest in French kissing him.

“What did you want, Sir?”

“Don’t Sir me.” He seemed cynical and perturbed she would call him that. “The sign says free pictures and free hugs”

“With purchase, Sir” Jamie corrected. She was not being mean; she had a playful grin like a woodland elven faerie, which was flitting around like Tinker Bell teasing someone chasing her in the woods.

“I purchased TWO kisses.”

“Purchase two from me?” Wendy said seductively. “If you’ve got a Camera, Sandy Buttcheeks will take the picture.” She hated to admit her ego was more than a little bruised that he hadn’t even considered her.

“No, you look too close to one of my friend’s wives. I feel a little creepy about it. Sorry”

At least she was not being passed over, because she was too old, too fat, or too ugly. She smiled at him, his rejection now meaningless to her.

“Actually, what the hell. There is no chance you are Bill Taylor’s wife, are you? Couldn’t be.” He said sure that there is no way his friend’s wife would be selling kisses at the fair.

“What does five get me?”

“It gets you a big kiss from SpongeBoobs, but watch your shirt, or I’ll get my eyes on you!” She said playfully, holding her jugs and shaking them around. She was not kidding, the paint transferred well enough on to other people’s skins and clothes.

“Can you not do the voice though? It’s not sexy.” He cleared his throat.

“You got it, Sir.” She embraced him grinding her body into his. At first, their lips touched slightly, both testing each other’s willingness to kiss that way. Hesitant, yet passionate, she was the first to open her mouth slightly, parting her lips, licking his upper lip just under his mustache. Then he darted out his tongue and tapped her playfully on hers. She followed it back into his mouth with her tongue, before finally letting him do the same. He tried to suck the air from her lips, as he used his tongue like an intruder, scouting forward, and finally licking the inside of her teeth.

“Wow that was impressive.”

“Do you want a picture, Sir?” Wendy asked, aware that she had not come close to her target, and he could really help even if she had to kiss him that way again. He was not a half-bad kisser.

“No, I don’t want anything like that, my wife would see.”

“One hug for the road, from SpongeBoobs?” she begged.

He couldn’t resist the offer, letting her wrap herself around him and grind a little more in his lap, she finally bid him goodbye.

“Mom!!” After he had gone, Jamie offered her protest. “What the hell was that?”

“Well, he made fun of my cartoon voice.” Wendy said plainly. “So I was going to call him Sir whether he liked it or not. A little zinger his way.” Wendy smiled, “The second hug, was just to make sure he brought home a little SpongeBoob paint for his dear, faithful wife.” She added smugly, thinking about how she cleverly got on him in such a way that she’d find it when she did the wash for sure.

“Okay, did you hear he knew Dad?” Jamie asked incredulously.

“Yeah, and there is no way he’d believe I was working the fair selling kisses. Good girls don’t do that, right?” She smiled knowingly at her daughter. “You want to be recognized as a sexual being, you’ve got a clit ring, and you are too embarrassed to kiss a guy in front of me, other than on the cheek. Is that all you have done to the dates you‘ve been on for Chris?”

“No Ma’am” Jamie admitted, as if she had just been pegged.

“Remember what your Father and Brother said. You aren’t to address me with respect.” Wendy said graciously. She did not want to make her daughter feel bad. She was trying to give her a pep talk actually.

Jamie smirked “That should be easy.”

Wendy’s tone was very serious “I still have power, even though your Dad took away my authority. I would be embarrassed to give someone a kiss too, in front of my mom the way I just did that guy.” She sighed. “I assumed you had to make out with boys on your dates. I just did not want to know about it. I am just as uncomfortable as you are about it. How about I make you a deal? I trust you to make the right choice. If you want to peck them on the cheek, or kiss them the way I just did, I will not judge you. I promise.”

“Whatever happens during training stays in training?” Jamie asked quoting Las Vegas’s Motto along the same lines (Whatever happens in Vegas, Stays in Vegas).

“Whatever happens at the county fair, stays at the county fair. We’ve masturbated in front of each other on a daily basis, several times a day, for the last week. I think we are past, being worried if you show a little affection to a boy.”

Jamie reached over to her Mom and gave her a playful kiss on the lips. They had kissed each other more passionately before for Chris’s amusement, but this was just affection between mother and daughter, nothing kinky.

“Hand me the money, bitch.” Short Round yanked the seven dollars out of the girls hands. “Less kiss each other, more make me dollars”

“Yes Sir, I am sorry for being so mean earlier.” Wendy decided to make up with Short Round. Something about him rubbed her the wrong way. Since she had pretended to be submissive around him as a way to mock him, he wasn’t buying it.

Wendy squatted down to the little man, so she was looking him straight in the eyes. She wanted to shut her eyes, because in the face he looked like he was about thirteen at most.

“Can SpongeBoob give you a kiss?” she said in her cute cartoon voice. She had just crossed some sort of bridge of understanding with her daughter. She was going to try to make up with the little guy, as well.

“Fuck no, bitch!” He pushed her down on to her ass, waddling back to his counter without looking back.

“Mom, you really should use the grown up voice for the grown guys, “Jamie agreed, a fact that Wendy was starting to realize.

As she started to get up, a gentleman reached down his hand to help dust her off. “Having a bad day?” He asked.

He was average height and build, with just a hint of a beer belly. He had brown hair, growing gray on the sides, with a neatly trimmed goatee that was also salt and pepper. He wore jeans and a t-shirt, and some comfortable shoes, carrying himself with the bearing of a man who probably served in the military.

“I’ve been sitting her watching you guys from over at the donut place, for a while. Is that little guy giving you trouble?” he asked.

“No, not any more than I don’t already deserve.” Wendy said truthfully as she stood up, her boobs clinking as she did from the metal buttons attached.

“I thought I’d walk on over and see if I could help out. I don’t suppose you’d mind getting a picture with me, and giving me a hug and a kiss?”

“No, not at all.” Wendy was shocked he was such a gentleman.

“How much would that cost me?”

“If you buy something, the hug and picture is free.” Wendy said looking up at him with her eyes twinkling. “The kiss would be one dollar.”

“And if I don’t buy something?” he asked.

“It would still be a dollar,” Wendy said, realizing how silly the pricing sounded. Based on the logic of an earlier man, if you buy a kiss, the hug and picture are technically free.

“I feel like I should tell you my name, it’s Steve.” he held out a crisp one-dollar bill for her. Wendy didn’t let the fact he had the same name as her new Boss at work bother her at all. It was common enough that it could belong to anyone. No point in holding that against him.

“My name is Wendy,” she corrected herself real fast “I mean SpongeBoobs.” she didn’t bother with the cartoon voice for him.

He touched her fingertips. His palms raised up, hers lowered. Locking eyes, he moved in close to her, not so close it mussed up his clothes. He drank her in, smelling her shampoo, as he nuzzled her with his chin. Then taking her in a steamy embrace, he passionately kissed her, letting her forget for a second the humiliations she had endured today.

As he kissed her, he slid his hand down to cup her ass, and felt bare skin through the webbing. He decided to cup her ass, and squeeze those well-rounded ass cheeks.

“I love the pig tails, darling.” He said as he tipped his hat to walk away.

Wendy had to adjust her wrap, and take a deep breath after he left. She said nothing to her daughter, who just looked at her smirking. He had forgotten to get a picture as well.

The two were joking about how poorly they were doing on the bet when Short Round came back around, this time with a package of corded clothesline. He snatched the dollar out of Wendy’s hand, complaining “Only one dollar? Cost me more in materials to keep an eye on you!”

“I am sorry Sir, you set the prices.”

“Yes, that is all you are worth, what we thought we could get. You get to throw three balls at the person in dunk tank for FIVE dollars. That is because he is FIVE TIMES MORE INTERESTING THAN YOU!” holding up all the fingers on his hand to punctuate his assertion.

He began to tie one end of the cord around Wendy’s foot.

“May I ask what you are doing, Sir?”

“I have to go take a shit, okay. Do you mind?”

“Not at all Sir, are you planning to take me with you?”

“Why, so you can kiss my ass and wipe me when I done!?” he laughed at her excitedly, like a tiny Danny DeVito. Then he explained as he tied the cord to the sign, around the awning pole, and back to Jamie’s foot. “You will stay here and do your JOB. You’ve got thirty minute, thirty-minute left. You haven’t made me shit. So now I am going to go TAKE a shit,” he laughed at his own play on words.

“This will keep you here, so you don’t run off and be lazy, while I am away.” He pointed two fingers towards his eyes, and then pointed the two fingers towards Wendy in the universal, “I have my eyes on you” gesture, walking away backwards. “Cash register is locked. Keep eye on merchandise. Don’t fuck around and fuck up!!” was his only advice as he headed away.

Wendy wondered how he could leave an open air shop. Most of the vendors near them only had one person working them. Her process driven mind tried to wrap her head around how they took bathroom breaks, ate their lunch, or what they did if they got sick. There was really no time for these thoughts, she pushed them to the back of her mind.

“What do we do with the money we make?” Wendy asked as he walked away, accidentally tripping over some of his own merchandise.

“Shove it up your ass!!” he yelled as he walked towards the bathrooms, as if he could care less. The two girls had been tied up often enough, and in the dark, hardly anyone would see the cord. They had enough room to move at least 5 feet in any direction. They weren’t concerned about this new condition. In fact, it didn’t even occur to them to think about it much. Had it been a week ago, even in their own backyard, they would have been more worried.

“Well, good for me, I’ve already got the tail in, that leaves you as our bank!” Jamie grinned.

“I don’t think he was serious about that last part.” Wendy joked back with her daughter.

“You could clench it. Technically, you’d be following his orders” Jamie answered seriously. She was suggesting her mom roll up the dollars, stick them between her butt cheeks and clench the way her brother had taught them to carry things around the house to him. Wendy agreed with a bemused expression.

A family visited them with small kids, who wanted a picture with SpongeBoob, paid their dollar and moved on. They even liked Wendy’s cartoon voice. She let them go with a peck on the cheek, and one for Dad as well.

“One more for Wendy, what does that bring my total up too?”

“I think two.” Jamie said slightly disappointed.

A couple others stopped, but seeing the store shut down behind them, assumed it may even be a scam and kept walking. Leaving the girls feeling awkward and a little rejected. “This must be what guys feel like when they used to ask me out.” Jamie joked.

Wendy was about to defend that she may have three pictures, backtracking this last half hour in her mind to get there , if you count the shot the two of them took together, when some teenage boy’s came walking up. They were probably in middle school. They looked like nerdy kids. One a redheaded freckle faced ginger with braces, the other like a very young “Ross” on friends, short dark hair, dark rimmed glasses, and the third a fat kid with blonde curly hair.

“Whoa guys, boobs dead ahead.” The fat kid steered his friends over to them.

“Nuh-uh” the red-head sneered in disbelief to his friend.

“Yuh-huh, Sir.” Wendy answered playfully. “I’m SpongeBoob, and that is Sandy Buttcheeks. If you’ve got a dollar for a donation, then today is your lucky day.”

“What does the donation go too?”

Wendy felt a little bad making up something, but he wanted to feel his dollars made a difference “Breast awareness.” smiling only slightly as she mentioned a cause that to him probably sounded real.

“I think the older one doesn’t have anything on under that skirt” the dark rimmed glasses boy stated matter of fact.

“I bet you don’t have anything on under your underwear?” Jamie answered playfully.

He got nervous, backed up a little, and crossed his hands over his lap as if she could see through his jeans.

“My friend gets a little nervous around girls.” The heavy boy introduced himself. “I am Clint” looking at the red-headed kid he introduced him as “Chuck” and “You’ve already met Millhouse” pointing to his cowering friend.

“His real name is Millhouse, Sir?” Wendy asked skeptically.

“It’s his nickname because he is a dweeb, is your real name SpongeBoobs?” Clint asked in reply.

“SpongeBoobs is my nickname, because of these.” She could already tell they were glued to her big jugs (not one of them making eye contact). Cupping her melons in her hands and shaking them for comic effect. The boys had been making no secret of their staring anyway.

“Why are you Sandy Buttcheeks?”

Jamie dropped to the clay beneath her feet, landing with a thud on her butt in a most ungraceful way. She had intended to show them by wriggling around the dirt like before.

The landing caused the flexible strap that covered her clit lips to pop off for a second, causing the boys to gasp before Jamie could scramble to adjust herself.

“Okay, you caught us guys.” Wendy said standing over daughter. “We are real women. We’ve got actual working vaginas.”

Jamie looked up at her mom to see if she would correct herself and use the word they were supposed to.

“Cunts” Wendy corrected herself for Jamie’s benefit a little too late.

“Damn, you don’t have to call us names, just because we are a little intimidated” Clint said, the three of them assuming she was calling them ‘Cunts’. They backed away.

Wendy said under her breath, ‘Quick...Come back…please.” pretending to care if they would return, and helping her daughter up. “Oh well, I tried to get them back.”

Jamie dusted herself off, and adjusted the tail in the back, a very embarrassing maneuver for her, because she felt like she were digging in her ass for an itch, which is what most people walking by probably thought and paid no attention what so ever.

“See where they fucked up with this challenge, is they didn’t give us a dollar goal. They could have given us consequences and incentives for making less than the target. The way they set it up we could just half-ass it for the rest of the hour. It really doesn’t matter how much we make.” Wendy said thinking about how this challenge had been structured.

“Sounds like Chris used too. Half-ass it, do the minimum.” Jamie added pouting to herself.

“That sounds kind of testy, I am sorry, if I didn’t say cunt to those boys right off. It is much harder for me to be submissive to people who are clearly not my equal.” Wendy explained.

“Seems like a good excuse. I serve Chris’s friends, Gerald for instance, who was probably the same age as those last boys. You are saying they are my equal, but not yours?” Jamie sounded more hurt, than angry.

“You are right okay. I am a coward. I was afraid of what they would think or do, if I said any more. I’ll be better about playing it straight. It isn’t easy to change so much of what I am, and have been.”

“You think it is easy for me, just because you’ve lived longer?”

Wendy took her daughter’s hand and said seriously, “Honey, I love you. I love you with all of my heart. So much you have no idea. If you could go to the edge of space to where you can’t go anymore, that is how much I love you, and then a little bit more.” Wendy said honestly. “I am so proud of you, your strength. Honestly, you’ve got such a good spirit, and courage. It inspires me.”

“Really? Wow.” Jamie was beside herself.

The boys had apparently rallied while the women were having their talk. They were obviously curious about something. Seeing a pussy pop out will often do that to you at that age. The heavy one, Clint cleared his throat to get their attention since they were facing away from them at the time.

As the girls turned around to see who was trying to get their attention, the heavy boy who had been the group’s representative was standing there. Wendy saw this as good a chance as any to show her daughter she meant what she said.

“I am so sorry Sir; I did not mean to call you cunts. There was a misunderstanding.” She tried not to sound brisk and business like. She didn't succeed. Her apology fell flat. Bill was much better at getting heart-felt apologies from her because he prompted her with questions. Wendy didn't feel the same sense of urgency to be contrite in part because she knew deep down she didn't care much about these boys 'feelings'.

“That is okay.” Clint answered the matter completely in the past to him. “We came back because, we had a bet.” The other two boys were giggling like schoolgirls.

“What is holding up your tail, glue or some kind of belt?” Clint addressed the girl he knew only as Sandy.

Jamie caught off guard by the question, rubbed her hips with her hands to demonstrate nothing but smooth thighs and waist. “No belt, as you can see Sir.”

“It could be like a fishing line, clear string.” Clint asked. His friends nervously tittering away, unable to look at the two women, with straight faces.

“So is it glue?”

“No sir, it is not glue.” Jamie started to have an appreciation for her Mom’s point of view. These boys were so immature; they couldn’t even hold a conversation. She’d have had an easier time telling almost anyone else what held her tail up that they had met since starting this.

“If it isn’t glue, or it isn’t a belt” Millhouse asked skeptically, assuming there must be a trick answer that was still one of his two theories. Then what is keeping it up when you take your hands away?”

Wendy could sense the conflict in her daughter’s mind. She had wanted to be honest, wanted to follow the instructions she’d been given about how a submissive should behave. It was also embarrassing as hell to have this conversation. If this had been a week ago, they’d have just walked away from rude boys like this. In fact, they would not be standing there virtually naked being questioned by them in the first place.

“You don’t have to answer, Jamie.” Wendy was about to tell them they weren’t ready to hear the secrets every magician uses or something along those lines.

“If you want to know,” Jamie said trying to keep the tears out of her eyes. “I’ve got a five inch butt plug up my ass, the tail is attached to that, with a flexible but hard little piece of fabric that works like a slap bracelet in the front.

The boys coughed, with Chuck hitting himself on the back. This was clearly shocking but good news from their comical reaction. They kept saying “No, no way!” and “Get the hell out!” in utter amazement.

Which only made Jamie more naturally inclined to say, “Yes, yes way Sir.”

“Pull it out if that is true, and show us” Clint dared her.

“I can’t sir, it is part of the costume” Jamie didn’t feel too bad about being a tease towards them. It was kind of fun to see their reaction and how she had them in the palm of her hand, hanging on her every word.

“If we give you a dollar?” pointing to the sign.

“It says for everything else, ask Short Round.” Clint read the last line of the sign aloud.

“True, and he is away right now Sir. You are welcome to wait. Get your picture taken with either of us!” Jamie tried to redirect them.

They were clearly going to make Wendy and Jamie work for that dollar.

“So if he tells you to take out your tail and show us, you are going to do it?”

“Yes Sir, I will, if that is what you want to see and he tells me to do it.” Jamie wasn’t kidding.

They broke into another round of disbelief, “No,” “No way” “Why would you do it if he tells you, but not us”

“You aren’t in charge of me, he is Sir.”

“Why don’t you just quit, Short Round sucks.” Chuck, the red head, said off the cuff, insulting someone he had never met.

“I am not a quitter Sir; I see my commitments through to the end. We will be here for about 30 more minutes, and then we are going to go, so if you change your mind, and want a kiss. You can come back and see me or my mom.” Jamie smiled, instantly regretting the last word she said. It had seemed very natural and totally innocent. She used the word all the time.

It stopped the boys dead in their tracks. “No, no. no way! That is your mom?” a round of disbelief washed over them again. They were starting to remind Wendy of the characters  Wayne and Garth from Saturday Night Live, with their animated speech and juvenile “No-ha-way”

“I am afraid so, I am her Mom. We are trying to get people interested in Madam Chang’s, and raise donations” Wendy bent the truth a little.

“So for a dollar, you’ll kiss anyone?” Clint asked, his friends making that anticipation face like, “Please say yes”

“Yes Sir. Anyone at the fair.”

“And you’ll both do it?” Clint answered.

“Did you want us to both kiss you, Sir?” Wendy smiled at him knowingly.

“No, I want you to kiss each other”

Jamie and her mother had kissed each other several times since this started. They hadn’t had to do extended make out sessions, especially since Bill’s deal with Wendy about her taking up the slack.

They looked at each other, and back at the boys and in unison said in a low rumble just like the boy’s “No, no way…no no…..” but there was a smirky look on their face.

“If you want the dollar for breast awareness, you’ll kiss, for a full minute, and we get to take a picture” Clint instructed. It was obvious the idea excited all three of them.

“Well, breast awareness is important, Jamie.” Not bothering with her character name now that they knew they were mother daughter.

While they talked to the boy’s there was a steady stream of people walking past. Some even stopped and looked at the sign, but seeing they were already talking to someone took that as a sign to keep walking.

“True, and we did say we would kiss anyone at the fair. Are you sure one of you wouldn’t want to kiss me for a full minute?” Jamie asked them with a voice that was one-half Marsha Brady, wholesome all American teenager and one-half Lindsay Lohan, worldly older girl.

They had to huddle, stepping away from Wendy and Jamie.

“We’ve just got the one dollar” they came back with as their explanation.

How far did they plan to get at the fair on the one dollar? Wendy really wanted to know. She assumed they were on their way out, and regretting wasting all their money on corn dogs and the like.

“Well, you could each kiss one of us for 20 seconds each. That would be one way to split it.” Using the artificial time limit the boy’s themselves imposed of a minute as her measuring stick to what a dollar would buy them.

“They aren’t going to do it, they are chicken.” Chuck said, kicking his boot into the clay beneath his foot.

“We didn’t say that, we just wanted you to have all your options, this is your only dollar, Sir” Wendy found she could have a certain amount of power, even when she had no power at all. She liked their discomfort.

Millhouse walked up to her with his crumpled dollar in his hand. This was the lone survivor of whatever cash they had started their journey with. It had made it past countless foolish choices as they wasted their money on rides, games and whatever else that caught their fancy. They would invest their final dollar on Wendy and Jamie.

Wendy pulled her breasts apart for him, as he stood trembling. His shyness seemed to amuse her.

“Go ahead, put it between my chest. I won’t bite.” She knew he was more scared of her, than she could possibly be of him. Seeing her chest-bone wouldn’t be any worse than seeing her free-hanging tits as far as she was concerned. The only thing she had covered up top being her nipples. Everything else was painted to give the perception everything else was covered.

Millhouse shut his eyes, and put the dollar on the sternum of her ribcage, between her cleavage held apart for his buck.

“Say Clench, Sir”

“Clench, Sir?” Millhouse mumbled making Wendy feel like  Stifler's mom the cougar in “American Pie”.

Wendy smiled at his awkwardness. Using her tits to grab the dollar, sliding up and down slightly to provoke him, and then pulling away flirtatiously to hold the dollar in between her boobs before taking it back again to hold in her hands.

“Are you ready to take our picture, Sirs?”

They had their cell phones out and in hand.

"Last chance to change your mind. You just paid, are you sure you don't want the kiss of your life?" Wendy puckered her lips and vamped like Marilyn Monroe, to see if she could convince at least one of them to kiss her. Sparing her the humiliation of being on some strange kids camera kissing her daughter.

Millhouse's eyes opened as wide as saucers. He starts at first to stumble backwards in a stuttering retreat. Just as quickly as his little legs will carry him he is back to where his friends were standing, tail between his legs. Intimidated, but not without a small yet obvious bulge in his pants, he hid behind the two other boys.

They wanted the mother and daughter to kiss, and they clearly wanted it right now.

Wendy looked her daughter in the eye. It had been hard to do at first, but Chris insisted they not shut their eyes when they kissed, so they didn’t think about someone else during it to make it easier. Wendy stroked her daughter’s arm, lifted her chin and then in as majestic and pure a kiss as you can imagine, she did that. The two parted their lips ever so slightly to let their tongues collide and intermingle playfully. It felt sick and at the same time, they were both very good kissers.

After they had kissed for at least a minute, they didn’t hear time called. Breaking off the kiss to look for the boys they were gone. They were a little shocked by this; apparently, the scene had been too much for them. They were used to Bill and Chris telling them when to stop.

Jamie breathed in a sigh.

“You are a good kisser, too” Wendy snickered.

“What happens at the fair, stays at the fair, right?” Jamie’s only mirthful answer.

“We’ve raised one dollar for breast awareness.” Wendy in a playful mood rolled the one up like a scroll and proceeded to stick it between her ass cheeks where she would clench until Short Round returned.

“Speaking of which, where is he?” Wendy fanned her face with her hand, feeling a little hot. “Do you think he fell in?” joking about the little man.

While they waited and called out to people passing by, it felt strange to spin the sign since the store was technically closed. Having nothing else TO do but spin the pointed signs they had been given when they first came out here, they did so.

The two women were both very athletic, they could keep up the pace of spin dancing like this all night if need be, even in heels. They had not broken a sweat (despite the humidity) or felt the need to take a break.

At least not a break to catch their breath. “Do you think I should ask short round if I can take a pee?”

“You mean allow you to piss?” Jamie corrected sternly. Then smiling she added, “Just fucking with you, Mom. Yeah you could probably ask him. He is technically in charge of us.”

“But would he let me go?” Wendy picked part of the Wrap she had around her waist out of her ass crack absent-mindedly. It had gotten included in her ‘clench’.

“Let you go where?” Said the voice directly behind her. She was facing Jamie, who could already see who it was. Her jaw fell open.

Wendy turned around to see whom the voice was coming from.

It was the handsome older guy she had seen her daughter talking to when Steve dropped her off from work who had addressed them.

Following him was Brad and Janet, and their son Gerald from earlier in the day.

“Wendy Taylor?” Gerald’s dad asked when he recognized the Taylor women he spoke to earlier at the fair before his son got his picture taken, hardly believing how they were dressed.

“I didn’t know you were SUCH fans of SpongeBob that you brought a change of costume to dress up like him,” he said as he walked up to introduce the handsome 20-something guy as his son. “This is my Son, Brad Jr. He is just home from college and wanted to have some family fun at the fair.”

The girl’s mouths dropped open, stunned.

The Family Feud III

Chapter Nine
“White Knight to the Rescue”

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 26
JAMIE: 29

Brad Jr. was handsome, funny, charming, and just a little old to be interested in high school girls anyway. Now he was looking at Jamie and her mom wearing next to nothing, apparently selling kisses standing in front of what appeared to be a closed adult novelty store.

“We've actually already met.” His grin saying he was more amused than horrified. He had only hours ago had a conversation with Jamie, who standing at her mailbox with both hands palm down on top of it, waited for her mother to get home (At her father's instruction). He had walked away when she abruptly ran over to greet her mother and “Steve” the guy who she was waiting on to bring her home. He was not sure what to think about this strange and odd girl, but he was finding her curious behavior kind of endearing.

“Hello Sir” Jamie answered him, still stunned by the sudden realization his younger brother is Gerald, who just happens to be one of her brother's best friends and the first one to go on a 'date' with her since the terms of her service began.

“Oh please, just call me Bradley, when I am around my father. I hate the name, but it beats Brad junior.” His easy smile seemed to suggest he wasn't judging the odd way they were dressed or what reason they may have for being here.

This is in stark contrast to what Bradley and Gerald's parent’s faces were saying.

The elder Brad's facial expression was a mixture between “What in heaven’s name is this?” and “Okay, I wish my wife wasn't here, because I think this is kind of cool.”

His wife on the other hand, wasn't going to stick with any one emotion. Right now, it was disdain mixed with curiosity. If you had to rate it on a scale of one Waxerman out of five possible Waxermans for how much disdain/disgust, it was probably only at about a two.

“What, exactly is it you are doing out here?” Janet’s voice dripped with a venomous tone that did not give one the impression there could be any satisfactory explanation.

Wendy was going to try anyway. She and Jamie had been just having this conversation about accepting their situation and playing by the rules, and when they may have to bend the truth and why. This might just be a good test. She did not know Gerald’s family personally. They lived in the same Subdivision/were part of the same Homeowners Association, which alone should have set off butterflies in her stomach that word was going to get around about this.

Mrs. Waxerman, the neighborhood busy body had no doubt already told a great deal of gossip about them to neighbors. This was different, Janet seemed credible. People may actually BELIEVE her/want to listen to what she had to say.

“We are trying to help out the owners of this store, by generating a little excitement for their business. So we agreed to put on these costumes, and do pictures and try to entertain if people make purchases, Ma’am”

“It doesn’t even look open?” Janet looked skeptically at the merchandise, as if it were piles of cow manure for sale.

“Oh the guy running the cash register had to take a little bathroom breaks.” Wendy smiled at her unintended pun. Short Round always had to take a “little” bathroom break, she amused herself for an instant with the image of his reaction to that observation, wishing he would come back soon. Hadn’t it been 10 minutes yet?

“I see” Janet said in a tone that meant, “I do not see.”

Her husband Brad chimed in “I think the costumes are fabulous, but I think what my wife is saying, is you seem a little under-dressed.”

His eldest son Bradley came to their defense before Wendy could muddle through her response. “It’s a sound business model dad. When my fraternity wants to do a car wash fundraiser, you think we go out to the parking lot in our sweat pants? No, my frat brothers and I strip off our shirts, flex our abs and wash cars of little old ladies. It is part of the game. Our sorority sisters just play it better. Their car washes earn about three times as much as ours.” He laughed. “Seems like they’ve got their bodies covered from head to toe in paint, feathers, or something.” his expression suggesting everyone just ‘lighten up’.

His mother was in no mood to lighten up. She hadn’t been actively listening to her son’s voice of reason. Instead, she had been meticulously scanning the girls for something vindictive to say when he finished. “There are other ways to advertise a business that would work just as well, than to paint ones chest like a children’s cartoon character” she made sure to emphasize the word ‘children’s’ to try to make the two sound more disgusting.

“You have to work with the tools God gave you,” Wendy said in general, jiggling her tits for an exaggerated humorous effect, causing them to swish from side to side. The three men in the party all laughed for sure.

“You mean the tools MasterCard or Visa gave you?” Janet corrected.

“Sure, but who do you think helped me to pay it off, Ma‘am?” Wendy scored another good comeback that pleased the guys in Gerald’s family.

“Well I’d like a picture with you two lovely ladies. The problem is your cash register seems to be closed.” Bradley spoke up again. He didn’t notice that Jamie seemed to swoon a little, or that his little brother seemed to be developing a little jealousy when he said it.

“The um” Jamie stumbled to find the right words “The only thing we can sell are kisses. If you make a purchase, all pictures are free.” She had gone from confidently holding three boys within the palm of her hand only moments earlier, hanging on her every word, to a silly schoolgirl with a crush on an older guy.

“I just happen to have some cash on me.” His eyes twinkled; to Jamie it seemed they twinkled just for her. “Do you have change for a twenty?”

“No Bradley” she felt comfortable calling him that since he had told her explicitly to use his first name. “We don’t,” She sounded disappointed.

“I’ve got a one!” Gerald who had been quietly building up a little resentment to the energy between Jamie and his older brother announced. He held up the dollar and walked up to the girls “I get to kiss both for one?”

“No sir, one kiss per dollar” Wendy answered the younger teenager.

“How about no kiss for NO dollars, Gerald Christopher Jenkins!” Janet corrected both of them. There was no way she wanted to stand here and watch either of her sons do anything with these two women. She didn’t know what their game was entirely, but whatever it was, she didn’t approve of bouncing boobs and butts around any of the men in the Jenkins household.

“Aww, but Mom, its SpongeBob! C’mon, you let me get pictures with the ones from earlier. Their Sandy Cheeks was in a bikini almost as skimpy as Jamie’s. She’s my girlfriend after all!”

“Well that is true.” Janet softened to her son’s line of reasoning.

Gerald had apparently told his parents after one day with Jamie they were ‘dating’, a fact that came as a surprise to not only Jamie and Wendy, but Bradley as well. Their faces said as much.

“Way to go, squirt! I didn’t know you were dating already!” his older brother congratulated him like a good sport, mussing his hair. “Jamie is a real catch, any guy would be happy to know her.” words meant more for Jamie than for his brother.

He had not asked Jamie on a date, he had just been flirting with the younger girl. He assumed if she was dating his younger brother, she was much younger than he thought anyway. He had assumed by how tall she was, and how she carried herself, she must be entering college soon. He would be a good sport, back off and not pursue getting to know her any further. He was still curious about her; something about her was fascinating to him. He did have a new appreciation for his little brother, who was still playing with action figures when he left for college. Now it seemed he already had an attractive funny girlfriend. “Way to go, little man” he thought to himself.

Jamie was already through her awkward Kiss on the lips with Gerald. She had to bend at the knees to reach his lips and he on his tippy toes. From the angle his parents took the picture, one would only see young love between two teenagers, and not that Gerald was squeezing Jamie’s ass cheeks while he smiled boyishly for his fawning parents as they took a picture of his “First Girlfriend”.

Jamie hadn’t wanted to correct Gerald in front of them. That wouldn’t do anyone any good. He could continue to pay Chris to make her date him, if he wanted to tell a person they were dating, that was his business. She was more disappointed that Bradley thought the worst of her. She assumed she never really had a chance with a guy like that anyway. He was too mature, positive and funny for high school girls. She told herself that, but allowed herself a sliver of hope the way someone who sings well in the shower does that they will be recognized on American Idol for their singing.

Short Round was just coming back from his bathroom break. “Wow, what a shit that was. My God, stay away from those donut holes. They are like bricks coming out.” He was talking to the person at the Donut shop. “Thanks for watching merchandise!” waving to someone behind the donut counter. Wendy had wondered why he didn’t lock up, the shopkeepers watch out for each other. That made perfect sense.

Short Round wasted no time getting back to business. The first order was calling out to Gerald’s Family “Come, Come, Buy from Chang’s. Ching-Chong-Chang, it means I love you. We have plenty to look at, you want T-shirt, I got T-shirt!”

Gerald seemed interested in some of the merchandise and he wandered in under the awning, followed by his parents. They weren’t interested in bringing any of this home, but given their son had just kissed his first girl and they got to take a picture of it, they were excited. They had never wondered about their eldest’s chances with the fairer sex, but Gerald had zero social skills outside of his immediate network of geeky friends.

Bradley lingered for a moment, as if to say something to Jamie. He smiled politely as he had when he saw her run towards Steve’s car with excitement, and walked towards his parents, hands in pocket. They were listening to Short Round’s abrasive but humorous sales pitch, and looking around the store.

Once he was out of earshot, Wendy looked at her daughter with genuine happiness for her “Oooh, he has the hots for you!”

“Yeah, Gerald, I know. Don‘t remind me.” Jamie looked disappointed.

“Oh C’mon, any guy like that would have the hots for you. I mean that older one, Bradley.” Wendy was rolling up the dollar she got from Gerald with the first one she had received as if clenching money between her ass cheeks was the most normal thing you could do while she talked to her daughter about what just happened. “I could tell there was a connection for a moment there between you two, an energy.” Her mom was genuinely happy for her daughter.

Jamie rarely used sarcasm with her Mom or anyone for that matter, so when she said, “I can see it now, we’ll tell our grandchildren how we met. I was nearly naked selling kisses, when his younger brother told everyone I was his girlfriend, and frenched me while his parents took a picture of it. I was basically naked, except for some body paint and a butt plug to cover my asshole. After that, nature took its course and we rode off into the sunset together, happily ever after.”

“Jamie” her mother shook her head. “Believe it or not, I was a teenager too. Your father was not always, as he is now. In High school, he was like a Greek god to me. He was a star athlete, popular, funny, took good care of himself, his hair, oh honey, his hair was so thick and perfect. He looked at me with the same eyes that Boy did you.”

Jamie did not believe it.

“I used to be such a bookish little wallflower. I was meek, all legs, no ass, no boobs. I was a non-entity to the opposite sex. If I were out here with my own mom like this, they would have used me to hold up the awning as a tent pole. There was no way I thought your father would be interested in me. He saw something in me that I didn‘t. When I went to college, I think I blossomed into my vision of what he saw. I came back ready to take on the corporate world, raise a family, and be everything to all people. Stay positive. Why do you think I say ‘give it the old college try?”

“Because you are old, and old people say dorky things?” Jamie said teasing her mom back.

“No, because when I was in college I tried new things. I wanted to come back to your father who stayed here and worked to save up enough so we could start a life together a different woman. The woman he wanted me to be. When things got too hard for me and I wanted to give up, I thought about that, and I was inspired to keep at it, until I got it done. One thing at a time.”

“Wow, I never knew”

“Probably because I never told anyone, not even your father. I think I had forgotten why I started that catch phrase. Somewhere along the line, I was just repeating the phrase, without thinking what it means. Seeing you look at that boy tonight, made me remember! Thank you for that.”

“Wow, you got all that from a look?”

“I AM a woman, remember? Someday you’ll be a mother, and you’ll tell your daughter that too.” Wendy said lovingly. She was as proud of Jamie taking steps to grow up, as the Jenkins had been of Gerald. Wendy realized she probably would have had more reservations about it, if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes and gone through this experience with her daughter.

“You wouldn’t freak out if I dated a guy who is in college?”

“Didn’t you just get a tattoo and four piercings in one night?” Wendy answered her daughter’s question, with one of her own. “I haven’t wanted you to grow up, you are my baby. So it is easy for me to say you cannot. You have made the case tonight that you are no baby. You are no quitter. There comes a point in every caterpillar’s life when she is about to get out of that cocoon and burst forth with her beautiful wings and actually fly wherever she wants to go. You are at that point in your life, wondering when you will be an official adult.” Wendy smiled slyly “He is probably closer to your own age than Gerald is, anyway."

They were both sharing a special bonding moment. It was interrupted by Short Round yelling at them, “Dance!! Dance! Spin Sign! Shake Butts.” bringing them out of their reverie, and into the sudden realization that a small line of three or four families had formed snapping their pictures.

That is how it works some times. A drought of no one stopping, and then a show or ride gets out and one person stops to take a picture. Some one sees that person taking a picture and decides to take one. Then a person sees two people taking a picture and thinks something must be worth taking a picture of, and on and on it goes. Short Round hadn’t bothered collecting the money, he had been getting customers from the attention they were getting, and with no place else to hold the money Wendy had nine dollars rolled up tightly between her cheeks, slipping it back there on the sly.

“Who is next? Free Hugs, Free Hugs With Purchase! We got them, you want them. Two lines no waiting. Free hugs. Who wants one from SpongeBoobs?” Wendy became animated. Dancing was second nature to cheerleader Jamie; she could do it with feeling and look over her shoulder to see in the store.

Bradley was looking back at her, then down at the ground. She thought if she blew him a kiss or something, he would think it was all part of her flirty fishing to get people to buy at the store, reel him back in. She wanted to give him a sign but nothing presented itself.

She turned her attention back from him, and together with her Mom, took pictures, kissed dads, and sons, mostly on the cheek, some on the lips. Few with her tongue for the next 15 minutes. The line eventually diminished and things got slow again. Bradley and the entire Jenkins family had been long gone for quite some time.

They had grown a little bolder in the last 15 minutes. People seemed to assume they weren't really naked, and the ones who did didn't seem to mind it. One pervy little black boy even reaching up and swinging from Wendy's tits as if she were a ride. It struck them as odd, but the parents seemed to think it was all in good fun.

With that exception, most weren't too handsy. The dad's usually tried to get a little close to Wendy or Jamie without letting on their game, but no one really took advantage of their vulnerability. It made the girls a little more brazen in how they acted. Jamie did her cute 'duck lips' for some pictures. Some she held her mouth open in mock excitement as if she just heard a funny joke and were in the middle of a laugh. Poses she and her friends had done in goofy facebook photos in the past.

It wouldn't be long, and Bill and Chris would be back to collect them to finish out the night. They didn't want to admit it, but they were having fun in a strange sort of way. They also didn't want to admit, that they would have preferred if Bill and Chris were with them. Neither of them feeling the need to say that they might be thinking that. A thought that they weren't quite sure they could explain if they had shared it.

Time passed and then there was another lull. The girls danced in place even if there wasn't hardly anyone looking. It seemed to make the time go by faster. Standing still the entire time would have made them look more out of place. The dancing reinforced the fact they were some kind of entertainment and were supposed to be out in the night air doing whatever it is they were doing.

‘Thwup’ Jamie felt something hard hit her in the shoulder. It was a cinnamon donut now lying in the dirt. She looked for the source of who threw it. This time two more were launched one hitting her in the belly and the other hitting her mom in the boob. They both stopped dancing to see who was throwing donut holes.

They held up their hands to defend themselves, but no further barrage of pastry was incoming. Short Round hadn’t thought untying their feet was necessary. The girls could have probably broken the cord had they needed to run. As they were, they seemed like perfect targets for three trouble making kids looking for something to do.

The fair had some areas that were so well lit, that by contrast some areas seemed to be absolute darkness. The donuts had been thrown from one of those spots. The girls called out to who was there, but no answer.

“Wow, that sucks.” Wendy wiped some cinnamon off her boob, sucking a little with her finger.

“Gross.” Jamie scrunched her nose.

“What? I am starving. It’s no worse than we do at home. If whoever threw it is gone, I am going to pick one up and eat it.” she remembered saying something about that earlier.

“Whoever threw it is probably standing over there giggling at us.” Jamie watched in the darkness for signs of who the culprit was.

“And you think he’ll giggle HARDER if he sees me eat his donut?” Wendy said practically. “If you are really embarrassed if I grab it off the ground, I won’t do it.”

“No, we have eaten stuff Dad rolled to us on the ground before. If you want to grab it, do it.” Jamie admitted. “We’ve got maybe ten minutes left and then Dad will come back for us. Who knows when he’ll feed us?” She did not seem particularly concerned about it. It was more that she had accepted that this is just how it is going to be for a while, and was offering some conciliatory gallows humor about their shared situation.

Wendy waited until there was a lull in people walking past, and shimmied to the ground, picked up a donut. It was still fresh and hot and coated in course ground cinnamon and sugar, making it difficult to tell how much of it may have been sand. Wendy closed her eyes, took a breath and popped it in her mouth.

She stood up and started shaking her hips again and dancing around. “It really wasn’t bad.” she told her daughter.

Jamie smirked. She would not do this if she were not absolutely famished. She scanned the ground near her for one that may have hit her. Tiny little balls of dough about an inch around are hard to spot, especially with all the other straws, drink cups and cigarette butts people discard. There it was, resting near the sign that tethered both her and her mom in place. She bent over at the waist more by habit than anything else. Her father had instructed her unless told otherwise to do it, and they actually practiced it one afternoon. She grabbed the little ball of dough hoping Short Round would not see and come over and make fun of them.

“YOINK!!!” a voice from behind imitated that sound cartoons make when something has just been swiped. Jamie felt her tail being pulled out completely in one clean stroke. She spun around on her heel to see what happened, still chewing the donut hole.

It was a fat kid from her school, Bobby Glenn. He was standing next to the three boys who had paid her to kiss her mom earlier. He was holding her Ostrich plume tail in his chubby fingers. The plastic red butt plug was dangling from the end with just a little bit, of what might be petroleum jelly still on it.

Jamie put her hands instinctively over her now bare pussy. She had only had a few inches of material in front, just enough to cover her slit. That with the paint gave the impression she was not exactly naked, dressed strategically to hide about as much as a Vegas showgirl, yes but naked no.

Without the tail, her engorged clit and pink pussy lips, with silver hoop was fooling no one. She was bottomless, and for that matter wearing only two buttons over her bare, free hanging tits. She had grown slightly more confident with the illusion of some modesty, which the tail’s removal erased. Her sore asshole throbbed when the tail had been slipped out. If it hadn’t made her feel so vulnerable, the removal would have still been a relief.

“Please give that back, Sir” Jamie pleaded. Wendy was not sure what to do either. One hand on the single tie holding her own wrap, and the other hand in a  mock fist, she wasn’t sure what she’d do, but she would go down trying.

Clint held the anal plug from the tail in his hand. “She wasn’t kidding, this was all that was holding her tail on!” he said still disbelieving it.

“Dude, that has her poop on it!” His friend Chuck emerging from behind him in the darkness sounded grossed out. This could only mean Millhouse was not far behind as well.

“So?” Clint sniffed it, like a fine cigar. “I don’t think so.”

“Listen, we did the kiss for you, we were nice to you, why do you want to be mean to us?” Wendy pleaded with Clint.

His older brother answered for him. “We aren’t being mean, we just fed you. Those were our donut holes you ate. So now you owe us.”

“What do you want, Sir” Jamie trembled.

“I like it when you call me Sir. I heard you were starting to act freaky. Did a senior strip dare, in the bathroom, with a banana.”

Cathy Griffin’s cheerleaders, the ones she had under her thumb had all ‘spontaneously’ been doing “Senior Strip Dares” (even some of the junior’s like Jamie). These mostly harmless pranks were slightly above mooning or skinny-dipping in the gym pool, but usually with a touch of humiliation if you knew they were doing it because they were blackmailed into it. Most of the school that caught the performances assumed it was some kind of initiation into the cheerleaders or senior prank. There had even been a few copycats who streaked across the campus for the attention.

Every few days there had been something of an incident. This was good news for the boys who enjoyed the impromptu shows where they get to see the most popular girls at school bare all. Bad news for the school administrators, the Principal had abruptly resigned, and some of the incidents (Jamie’s included) had been buried in a pending file.

“I barely know you, Sir.” Jamie had a hand over her crotch and another at her side, hand clenched. “Why don’t you leave us alone, please?”

Short Round waddled  over to where the boys were standing “Is there problem?”

“Yes, we bought a kiss earlier, and these two don’t want to take pictures with us.” Clint lied “Then I spilled my donut holes on the ground on accident and these two pigs grabbed them off the ground and ate them, and while she was down there, her tail fell out, I was asking if I could put it back.”

That had CLEARLY not happened the way the boy was saying. Even Short Round had to know better.

“Is this true?” Short Round asked Jamie. If he did know better, he wasn't letting on.

“No sir”

The boys had their arms folded, with a smug sense of satisfaction.

“Do you have their money?” Short Round asked.

“Yes Sir” Wendy answered.

“Let me see it!” He demanded.

Wendy felt a fresh wave of humiliation waft through her as she realized where the money was. This was a boy from Jamie’s school, who was being cruel to both of them. She had been through much worse, things over the past few days. She sucked a guy’s dick behind a dumpster; she had been fucking a guy at work and letting him use her there. She had even actually prostituted herself one night. There were too many things to name. Why did she feel like walking away, dragging the sign behind still attached to her feet and giving up? Her heart felt like it had dropped from her chest and was floating around in her stomach.

“Well bitch, you have their money or they lying?” Short Round’s broken English seemed to shift, sometimes almost sounding like an angry Indian customer service agent. Sometimes his sentences more structured.

“They did pay us, yes Sir”

“Which one did you kiss?” Short Round demanded.

“We kissed each other, for them Sir.” Wendy’s answers were getting harder; much like her first affirmations to Bill had been, before she felt more confidence.

Her answer was confirmed by the giggles from the boys.

“Show me the money!!” Short Round imitated a tiny Tom Cruise (although from what I hear, he is not that much taller).

Jamie looked at her mom courageously. “Show him the money, it’s okay.” She had her other hand over her ass crack now. She was facing forward, but felt that some of the people passing by might be curious enough to turn around and investigate. After all, one person gets in line; another person does too to see where it may go. They didn’t have a full on altercation happening, but if enough people start standing around talking, people are bound to check it out.

Wendy reached behind her skirt, adjusting it slightly, and reaching between the webbing, pulled the money out of her crack.

The one they called Millhouse spoke up accusingly. “She accepted my money between  her boobs, and then I saw her stick it in between her butt cheeks!”

Wendy shook her head in disbelief. No kind act goes unpunished it seems. She had thought to be flirty with Millhouse and give him a playful show, and here he was making it sound like she had molested him. He had seen her tits; they were all looking at them right now with the exception of the nipple. All she had done was pulled them apart to take the dollar.

“You have more dollars hiding up that fat ass?”

“No Sir. I swear.” Wendy’s butterflies in her stomach were at Defcon 5, and they were launching missile strikes against all foes.

“Let me see!” Short Round demanded.

She was facing him and the path of customers and fair attendees. “Will you come around behind me, Sir?”

“Who is boss?”

“You are Sir” she answered hopelessly. There was only five more minutes at most left before Bill would be back. She couldn’t believe she preferred his torment to the torment she was currently getting. It might be their ages, and Short Round’s height. It might just be they were strangers that were causing her to want to resist. It might also be that she did not feel morally obligated to answer to Short Round the way she did to her husband due to her past transgressions.

“Tick Tock, Tick Tock!” Short Round pointed to an imaginary watch on his wrist. “We look like we got all night. You holding out on me?”

Wendy waited until there was a lull in foot traffic past the store. Chang’s was on one of the main arteries off the midway. The traffic could be in the dozens, but right now was a rare moment when other than them, there was almost no one besides a few vendors from other stores watching.

She turned around to face Short Round, bent at the knee slightly, lifted up the shawl letting it rest on her back, and pulled her cheeks apart. “Satisfied, Sir?”

“Wow, I told you she was naked under that dress!” one of the boys shouted as if he had just won a jackpot.

“Close you fart maker.” Short Round made a show of waving his hand in front of his nose as if he smelled something beastly. He was satisfied Wendy had no more cash to give.

There was some giggling from the boys. They couldn’t be sure what was happening, but they were liking what they saw.

“You want buy tail? Fifteen dollar.” Short Round told the boys quieting them down. His attitude was just as rude to them as it was to the girls. Wendy tried to console herself that at least he was consistent in his rudeness and hadn’t singled them out.

“Fifteen dollars? It has been used!”

“I see that. You want? You buy.”

Jamie suddenly felt a little hope shine through her window. She hadn’t expected Short Round to cut them some slack. Given what he just made her mother do, she assumed he would side with the boys.

“No, what the fuck would I do with it?” Bobby asked the diminutive shopkeeper.

“Shove it up you ass!  That is what!” That was funny no matter who you are. Even Bobby had to laugh at the little man’s comic timing in delivering his line.

Short Round was already walking back to his counter. “Put it back, and take you fucking pictures. I don’t give a fuck. Girls not give you trouble any longer! I back now!”

“I get to put it back.” Bobby said ominously to Jamie, who had felt relief on her tight asshole for only a short minute. The other three were futilely jockeying to get it out of his hands and be the one to put it back.

“I believe he meant to hand it to me, so I can get dressed. You can’t just take people’s costumes.”

“I could just run off with it.” He seemed to want her to dare him to prove he would.

“You could, but the security would catch you for shoplifting.”

“The same security that stopped you from standing out here all night flashing your tits?” Bobby asked skeptically.

“There aint no security, we tipped over a port-a-potty, put cotton candy in a girls hair, and kicked somebody’s cat.” He listed his pranks as if they were something to brag about.

Wendy tried to broker a deal and be the voice of reason. She had been a good negotiator in her profession, how hard could these boys be to break. “What is it you guys want to leave us alone, sir?”

“I want to throw an entire box of donut holes at you both, and I want you to eat them off the ground.” Bobby sneered.

“No, pour a slushee on their heads!” Chuck added.

Millhouse meekly suggested, “While we take pictures.”

“No, make them do jumping jacks. I want to see them tittays bounce!” Clint tried to sound as tough as his older brother did.

Wendy waited for their apparent leader to pick which one he wanted, if he’d put the tail back.

“Okay, that sounds good.” Bobby nodded his head at them. “I want you to let us throw donuts at you while you do jumping jacks, and we take pictures, when we run out of donuts we cool you off with a slushee. Game on?”

Jamie wasn’t feeling particularly sporty, especially since he hadn’t picked one condition. He’d combined them all into a mega-condition. They didn’t play fair. Her dad and Chris had a sense of fairness and balance about their twisted games. They would have only picked one.

A family walked past, and looked Jamie up and down. Unsure if she was wearing a bathing suit, the mother hastened them on their way.

“Will you put the tail back first?” Jamie pouted, defeated.

The boys agreed. Wendy wanted to warn her daughter they only have minutes left before Bill will be here. They could probably just wing it without the tail. It may be better to let this go. Bill wasn’t always punctual, but she had to believe he was only minutes away.

Looking both ways and seeing another lull in customers, she realized the ‘cavalry’ such as it was in the form of her husband and Chris were not on their way.

Wendy untied her shawl in a moment of self-sacrifice, stopping her daughter before she spun her back to face them. “You can wear this”

“Mom, no!” Jamie was already holding the shawl, her words being ignored.

Wendy turned her back to face them, spreading her ass cheeks as she had before. “Do you know how to put it back, sir?” wiggling her butt as playfully as she could imagine, despite the resentment for these little bastards building up inside of her. “Hurry up sir, or the deal is off.”

‘GLOOOP’ the plug went in Wendy’s ass very easily. It was lubricated, and still warm. She turned around, locking the front part in place to cover her. She was a bigger girl than her daughter, and having it on felt far more naked than she had felt in the wrap-around skirt. As her face went red, she could not help but focus on something that was said earlier in jest.  The phrase “You got your chocolate in my peanut butter” that they had guessed her son might say in a scenario where they switched plugs. The joke, or perhaps the safety net of her familiarity with her son's twisted sense of humor helped her endure being plugged with her daughter's tail.

The two started their jumping jacks immediately after the plug was in and secure. Cheering in a cadence as if they no longer saw the boys “Madam” Clap “Chang's” Clap “Oriental” Clap “Emporium” clap “of Novelties”.  Every word they expanded their legs and arms, causing their tits and ass to bounce, and on the clap they brought it back again bringing with it a new set of jiggles. Wendy couldn't believe how much more uncomfortable it was to do the jumping with the tail in. Why hadn't her daughter complained about this, or for that matter brought up what might be going on in her body due to the stimulation of the piercings? She wondered.

At first the boys were not sure if they were being ignored. “THWUP” the first donut hole hit Wendy in the neck.

She didn’t stop jumping jacks. They repeated the store’s name as wave after wave of those warm moist donut holes hit them, one in the tit, one in the shoulder. One aimed at her ass cheeks from the side. It only took a minute for the boy’s to be almost out of ammunition.

No one stopped them or said anything. There were dunking tanks where you throw a ball and dunk a wise-cracking clown. There were renne faire style wooden stocks where you threw tomatoes at medieval wise-cracking clowns. To most, this might have seemed like a game. Short Round was probably wishing he had thought of it himself. He could be heard giggling in the background.

“Hey Stop that!!” it was a man’s voice in the distance.

Had Bill come to stop the boys before they both got iced slushee dumped on their head? Had Security come to put an end to this spectacle?  Had someone come up with a better idea to torment the girls? All of these questions raced through Wendy and Jamie’s mind collectively.

The Family Feud III

Chapter Ten
“Out of the frying pan”

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 26
JAMIE: 29

The figure strode like a Texas Lawman about to confront the outlaws who left him for dead. At least that is how it seemed to Jamie as she recognized the voice instantly. Bradley Jenkins, the handsome older guy who had twice now seemed to drop in and drop out just as quickly from her life. He was one of the few males in her life that didn’t seem to instantly delight in her new status in life. He was certainly the only one she could think of.

He didn’t even have to raise a fist or make a threat. The boys tormenting Wendy and Jamie melted back into the shadows from whence they came without putting up any resistance. Bradley didn’t come across like a ‘tough guy’.

His energy was more like a policeman shining a light on something that was obviously not supposed to be happening and the burglars fleeing the scene.

“Are you two okay?” He asked, genuinely confused by what was just happening.

“Yes Sir” Jamie answered him, ceasing her jumping jacks to talk to him.

“What was just happening?” Bradley’s expression was a cross between confusion and concern. This girl (and her mother) was a huge enigma to him. On the one hand, Jamie seemed playful, smart, mature yet innocent in her own way, and for some reason he felt attracted to her. On the other hand, he was no longer certain she was even close to his own age, she was apparently dating his brother. Something had made him come up with an excuse to return here, but he couldn’t help but feel he’d just stepped into the middle of the third act of a play.

Something wasn’t right about their answers. So overly polite, they seemed to have such an odd way of looking at life. He couldn’t put his finger on what was happening, but the fact that it was so strange made him even more curious.

“Some pranksters were throwing food at us, Sir. Thanks for coming to our rescue.” Wendy answered for her daughter, when Jamie didn’t respond to his question right away. Jamie nodded in agreement.

“Why didn’t you say anything to them?” Bradley clearly didn’t understand what had led up to their situation. In his mind, they were simply very liberal women, who had chosen to wear admittedly incredibly skimpy and revealing costumes to help out a store that they apparently had some stake in. At least, that is the best guess he had at the present. The simplest answer being the best answer.

“They would have just backed up and thrown from a distance, besides the show must go on, Sir.” Wendy answered  him vaguely noting that her daughter didn’t seem to mind this time. Wendy scanned for signs of Bill and Chris, she expected them any moment. She started to dance again for passersby while they continued their conversation with Jamie’s crush.

“Your daughter had the tail last time I was here, or did I miss something?” Bradley’s mind was still trying to wrap itself around this unusual situation playing out before him.

“Yes, we switched sir. Do you like it?” she spun for Bradley flirtatiously without thinking about it. It was the same attitude she had displayed for a good part of the last hour for any stranger who passed by. Jamie didn’t seem amused this time.

“I meant to ask, how does that stay on? Glue or some kind of belt?” Bradley asked the kind of practical question you might expect of an analytical mind, or perhaps a 13 year old boy (or both).

Wendy didn’t get a chance to answer before she heard the familiar sound of Bill and Chris’s voice in the background. She was relieved that they returned, as weird as it sounded, she wondered if she was developing some sort of Stockholm Syndrome. They were cruel, strict, and tormented her regularly, but this past hour without them and the sense there was some point to all of her suffering in servitude had made her miss them.

“Welcome Back, Sir,” she tried to hug her husband.

“Wait until you get that paint washed off, don’t get your shiny paint all over me.” He sounded like he was correcting his dog for trying to lick his face.

“Yes Sir, Sorry.”

Bill observed the sign and the handsome young man he had seen on his lawn earlier today. “You live in our neighborhood, were you trying to get a picture with my wife and daughter?” he asked politely.

“Oh no, actually.” Bradley tabled his earlier curiosity about what held the tail on and revealed he had come back to find out what time the girls would be done with their work. “I was hoping maybe Jamie could join us, well join Gerald for a little while.” Bradley wasn’t sure what he was hoping. A part of him felt like such a selfish tool right now. He hadn’t even told his family he was coming back here. He was supposed to be looking for an ATM machine as far as they knew.

Jamie looked at her father’s stony expression and back to Bradley, “That is so kind of you to offer, Sir. We are wrapping up here, but tonight is a Taylor family fun night. I couldn’t leave, even if I wanted to.” There was just a subtle hint of double meaning to the last part of what she said that only Wendy picked up on. Jamie did want to go, she just knew her place was here with them.

“That is very understandable. I just thought I’d offer. I just thought maybe you would like to see Gerald.” He lied. He felt all at once guilty for using his brother’s apparent relationship with her to find out more about her. He knew plenty of girls in college, why did none of them seem as interesting as this girl? Was there something wrong with him? even though she looked like she was a high school senior, she must be much younger. These were the thoughts going through his head as he politely excused himself to make his way back to his own family.

“Seems like a good guy.” Bill said out loud to no one in particular as they watched him walk away.

“So you were good girls?” Bill asked them.

“Yes Sir.”

“If I find out otherwise, there will be hell to pay! Look who we found.” He indicated Uncle Creepy, the man who was so unassuming that he had been standing four feet away since Bill and Chris walked up and neither Wendy or Jamie noticed. Creepy was still clutching the clothes they wore to the fair to his chest.

“Hello Sir” the two girls greeted him warmly. They didn’t’ want to but they knew it was expected of them. “We are so glad you brought our clothes back to us, Sir”.

“You won’t be so glad when you see what he did to the clothes you are going home in.” Chris smirked sadistically.

“We will show gratitude towards him, and you for permitting us to wear any clothes at all. Wearing this ‘costume’, gives me a new found appreciation for the generous allowances you make in what we sluts are permitted to wear, Sir.” Wendy promised her son.

“Why did you switch bottoms?” Bill asked noticing that SpongeBoob had sprouted a tail and his daughter the squirrel was wearing her mother’s shawl wrapped around her waist.

“Some boys were teasing us, and pulled the tail out of Jamie’s ass, Sir…” Wendy started the explanation.

“But, Bradley came along and chased them away.” Jamie finished the explanation.

“Cute, so how did it get up your mother’s ass?” Bill asked skeptically.

“I volunteered to let them tail me, because the boys were being shy with Jamie, Sir.” Wendy’s answer seemed plausible, but not exactly the truth. She had volunteered in part because she wanted to spare Jamie the experience of strange boys driving a rubber dildo into her ass.

“So if Bradley scared them off while they were tailing your mother with your costume, how did it end up in her hole and not yours?” Bill asked his daughter, wanting to hear her version of the story.

“They did that before Bradley walked up. He saw them throwing fried donut holes at us while we did jumping jacks and stopped them just before they dumped their ice cold slushees on us, Sir?” Jamie’s voice, unable to hide her esteem for her new found benefactor.

“You sound like you don’t think males should get their jollies watching you suffer. Are you too good to be donut hole targets?” Bill asked his follow up question.

“No sir, we accepted our place, and took the donut holes. They are all around us.” Jamie pointed to a few of the fried balls of dough on the ground.

Chris grinned “Damn, I missed seeing Mom and Jamie get all these balls thrown in their face”.

“If you see these boys, you will apologize and let them continue their fun, is that understood, little miss perfect?” Bill demanded of his women.

“Yes Sir” they both answered.

“Turn around in inspection one position, let’s get your costumes on right since neither of you can be trusted to wear them properly.” Bill ordered them to stand, knees slightly bent, hands behind their back pulling their ass cheeks apart.

It should be said that there was no fortunate lull in fair customers walking by at the present time. Had it not been for Chris and Bill standing in front of the girls, people passing by would have had no choice but to stop and watch the spectacle. The only reason they didn’t notice, was Chris’s wide girth inadvertently shielded the bottom switching exercise as it took place.

The shawl was yanked roughly from Jamie’s waist, the knot coming undone in one smooth pull on the garment. Chris pulled the ostrich plume tail from his mother’s ass and looked at it with the same fascination as the boys had done earlier.

Satisfied with the inspection of the plug, he placed it at his Sister’s tight opening, just above her painted twat. “There has to be something funny to say about this situation.” He said more to himself than anyone else.

“You are getting my peanut butter, in her chocolate Sir?” Wendy’s joke made the more dry by her having to face away from the men as she delivered the line that her and her daughter had been anticipating was something he’d say.

“That’s pretty funny, Mom.” He drove the plug a few inches into his sister’s ass, unable to see the look of mixed passion and pain on her face as he did. “That is kind of twisted,” He continued to drive the plug into place, locking the front piece of material over Jamie’s pussy as he did.

“Thank you Sir, I am glad it amused you.” Wendy said a little less deadpan than her joke.

Bill threw the shawl on his wife’s back. “Put it on, and get down on all fours and eat some of these donut holes. Seems a shame to let them go to waste.”

The girls didn’t hesitate once they were permitted to do so. They got on down on all fours, a move that may have seemed like they were searching for a lost contact lens or ride ticket to passers-by who were focused on their own destination. A few people did stop to watch and laugh, as the girls took a bite of the pastries that had been used to pelt their bodies only minutes before. This only served to deepen Wendy and Jamie’s humiliation, but not their resolve to carry out their orders.

“Let’s go have a talk with Madam Chang, see how well you did.” Bill grabbed his wife and daughter by the elbows roughly pulling them to their feet.

“Actually Sir, she never came outside to supervise us. The man behind the counter did, and he tied our feet to this cord.” Wendy explained that they were tethered in place to their sign.

Bill sighed. He bent over and with a strong jerk of his hand, broke the clothes line, leaving it still tied around their legs. He noted the little man behind the cash register was busy with customers. “Seems like he was too busy to really give you the proper discipline and supervision.” He noted with disappointment.

The girls followed Bill and Chris to Chang’s backdoor. Bill having been there earlier didn’t knock. Wendy wasn’t sure what Madam Chang had been doing this entire time. Chang nor her twins had come outside to gloat or give them a hard time. In her mind, she had assumed perhaps they were involved in their own twisted bondage and control games.

Wendy had assumed because of the easy way they accepted her and her daughter’s discipline and from some of what Madam Chang had said, she was herself a perverse disciplinarian. She had expected to see leather whips and bondage swings or something over the top when they walked in to the room.

She scolded her own over-active imagination because the reality was the twins were working and Madam Chang seemed to be hastily pulling on her silken robe. If they were doing anything perverted, it was hardly as ambitious as her wicked mind had dreamt up. She wondered for a split second if she had secretly hoped it was as she envisioned, before erasing the question from her mind.

“You should learn to knock before you just walk in.” Madam Chang said in perfect English, caught off guard by the interruption. Wendy and Jamie were equally as stunned by how Chang was no longer stooped over or speaking in the funny accented English she had been earlier.

“What, you want Madam Chang speak like this?”  She asked the two surprised women.

“No ma’am, I just don’t know what to think.” Wendy was looking at her and Bill for some understanding.

“You come to the fair, you want to be scared in our haunted house, our rides. You pay for thrills, and the illusion of something exotic. You can’t be too disappointed if you walk back stage and find out we are all actors, can you?” Madam Chang explained.

“No Ma’am” that explanation made sense to Wendy.

“I thought you were going to personally put them through their paces outside.” Bill seemed disappointed more for not getting what he paid for, than over anything else.

“You can bring them back, and we can have them work an entire day here at the fair. There is a lot of work to be done breaking down and setting up. We could hang them as extras in the haunted house. Tie them up to the bumper cars as rubber barriers.” Chang offered in as conciliatory manner as someone who didn’t really care could muster.

Short Round chose that precise moment to enter the back office. “Those lazy fat bitch walk away, after only one hour!! Fat asses scare away customer” he shook his fist in mock anger.

Chris told him he could drop the fake accent. “We already know.”

“Actually, that is how Short Round talks.” Madam Chang’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Your girls were good sports out there, it was funny to us. Robert thought the boy who grabbed your wife’s titties and made her spin him like a helicopter was particularly funny.” She pointed at some black and white video monitors to indicate they had been watching all along.

“Robert?” Bill noticing the camera monitors had been well camouflaged by all the junk in the trailer workspace.

“You knew them as Yuki and Kiko, these are my business partners, Robert and Neil.” The twins smiled at their introduction.

“It would be funny if their name was Bob and Neil, because then that would sound like Bob and Kneel.” Chris pantomimed someone sucking a cock while bobbing their head. No one laughed.

“As you can see, they were never unsupervised. We even told Short Round to take a long bathroom break, to give the girls a sense of abandonment. We were going to see if they would slack off, or get frightened. They carried on dancing and carrying on like good little troopers. You should actually be proud of them.” Chang continued her explanation.

Jamie and Wendy did feel a sense of satisfied pride. Wendy wanted to tell her husband that the hour with Short Round had made her appreciate her husband’s leadership style a little more, but she wasn’t quite sure this was the time to express that sentiment.

Bill wasn’t going to award the two a complement for the good report he received. He had come into the trailer wanting to find fault. He was not sure what his expectation was while he was out with his son. He started to realize maybe they HAD been unrealistic, in part because he hadn’t taken the time to outline them to anyone.

Rather than dwell on that, or the hour he had just spent bonding with his son discussing plans for the night he asked if they would remove the costumes. “We tracked down Uncle Creepy, and I would like them to wear the clothes they had on when they came here.”

“You no want advertise Madam Chang Emporium?” Chang joked in her imitation broken English. “Uncle Creepy, that good name for him. He very creepy.” She winked at the quiet man still holding the precious clothes to his chest.

The twins got into the act, one of them saying “Ho” to get his brother’s attention.  “Let’s take ho outside, hose off ho with outside hose.” They giggled taking Jamie and Wendy by the hand to lead them behind the trailer to a garden hose.

While Bill and Chris waited for their return, Madam Chang explained that she was the fourth “Madam Chang” to own this business and that the people who worked at the fair considered each other to be ‘family’. Not right away, but once someone demonstrates, they are going to stick around. She used this as an allegory for the Taylor’s family saying that she did not know the reasons the women had for serving, but it wasn’t her initial expectations. She thought they were just stupid bimbos, extroverts looking for humiliation. She noted that Jamie’s eyes, hard nipples and wet pussy had given her the impression she was doing this for a thrill, but now she thought that may just be a side effect. That the Mother and Daughter, were truly doing all of this out of a sense of obligation and duty.

In that short space of time, Bill agreed with Madam Chang (the fourth), and told her that he and his son had reached a similar conclusion over their discussion. “That was the first two minutes of the last hour, we spent the rest walking around looking for Uncle Creepy who we followed around the fair, until we could catch up with him.”

“That is our security guard.” Madam Chang admitted with a grin that implied he wasn’t particularly effective, but that he had endeared himself in the position the way “Rudy” had to the Notre dame football team.

“If you want to rent your wife out to us again as poster board, we’ll try to come up with something more challenging if you like. The only other vendor I can think of who may be willing to come up with something clever is the old man who runs the arcade.”

Bill remembered the kindly old man, who had seemed too gentle to hurt a fly. He shook his head that he didn’t agree.

“Suit yourself, it’s just an idea.” Madam Chang answered without concern.

The girls were soon trotted back in, now twice as naked in contrast to their painted costumes. Jamie looking very pink and white, her mother slightly more tanned. The only thing on their body was the collars, heels and Madam Chang buttons clinking as they trotted behind the twins.

“Let me guess, they kinked the hose, and spent most of the time getting the paint off your assholes?” Chang asked the girls knowingly.

The question was rhetorical as she didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, she pretended it was a pity to remove the lovely Chang buttons and let Bill and Chris pick out better hoops for their piercings than they had when they came in.

“Can we go bigger?” Bill asked of the hoops in his wife’s titties.

“You can, but I wouldn’t suggest it, at least until she has grown used to these.” Chang replied. “You could put nose rings in, that would be cute.”

Chang was already giving them a discount on the cost of the body jewelry, with the two hundred he had given her earlier, he didn’t feel comfortable buying another piercing. “That is for another night.” is all he said.

It left Jamie and Wendy with the impression he was concerned that their tattoo and Jamie’s body jewelry was already too much of a shock to the system. Bill was simply being pragmatic about the cost.

When Jamie and Wendy were fully dried off, and the paint removed, the hoops replaced, they were told to beg Uncle Creepy for their clothing.

Naked on their knees, the girls faced Uncle Creepy while he held their clothes like Gollum holds the ‘one true ring’. The men had the two girls practice begging at home for the last week, but it was never easy for either of them. In part, because they knew they would be eventually given what they asked for if they kept trying. In this case, Creepy’s unnatural affection for their clothing did not give them a lot of confidence that he’d part with them no matter what they did or said.

“Sir, I am glad you like the way our clothes smell and feel in your hands. It is very flattering that you liked them enough to carry them with you tonight” Wendy started the girls off.

Robert, Neil and Short Round were giggling just slightly behind them. A fact that made saying these things to Uncle Creepy that much more difficult. He was obviously simple-minded, which made their being prostrate begging him all the more humiliating.

“We aren’t angry in any way that you may have soiled our clothes, Sir. We are dirty girls, if you got our clothes dirty that is okay with us, we don’t mind.” Jamie said sincerely adding that “We need to get dressed, so we can get out to the fair and play my father and brother’s dare game. If you let us, I hope you can come with us and watch.”

Creepy wasn’t budging.

“You beg like two rich sluts, who are asking for extra diamonds to bejewel their phone.” Bill scoffed at their efforts. “Get down and fucking grovel, you ungrateful snots.” pushing their heads down.

Wendy was the first to start licking Uncle Creepy’s boots. She had licked her co-worker’s shoes every day since her husband had forced her to answer to him. Jamie followed her mother’s example pressing her suddenly rock hard nipples to the trailer floor and pulling her ass cheeks apart to reveal a strawberry pink colored sore asshole.

“Would you like me or my daughter to masturbate you onto our clothes? If you came on them, that is okay, Sir, please let us wear them.” Wendy’s voice sounding slightly more pleading than earlier.

Uncle Creepy seemed offended she’d suggest that, but said nothing. His face a blank expression, he tightened his grip on the clothes pressing them to his chest.

“You sound like you are bargaining more than you are begging, you dumb cunt. You'd better learn the difference with a quickness, or I'll walk you both out of here like you are.” Bill threatened.

Wendy was not sure what else to offer him of her charms, or even that of her daughter. She tried in vain to beg in general platitudes as the two girls licked the top his muddy work boots.

“Do you like the way our cunts and asses smell, Sir?” Jamie finally volunteered. She had a hunch that he liked the way their clothes had pick up their scent, the lotion, the perfume, the sweat. The way she asked sounded like a naughty teenager who was daring someone to say yes. It sounded so wrong coming out of her mouth, but at the same time very wicked.

Uncle Creepy’s left eyebrow arched. This was the most expressive he had been all night.

Jamie rose to her feet, and turned away from him in inspection position one. She faced her ass towards him and bent deeply, pulling her ass apart with one hand and using her other finger to hold her wet twat apart. “Please sir, take a good long smell, does my ripe cunt smell as delicious as my clothes?”

Uncle Creepy remained unmoving.

Wendy rose to her feet, trying her daughter’s position adding, “Please Sir, smell our cunt, are they as fresh and sticky as the clothes we had on?”

Uncle Creepy bent robotically at the waist to give the asses a sniff, the way one would a rose on the vine. Then fearfully rose back up, saying nothing. His breath giving both girls the chills.

“If you had something else to smell, would it please you? Sometimes I put a finger under my arms or between my ass crack and smell it later.” Jamie lied; she remembered hearing Chris say something like this before. “Drag your finger down my sweaty ass crack and take a sniff of my female sweat, Sir…please? I bet you’ll li-ike it” she dragged out the word “like” in as tempting a way, as she knew how.

Short Round who was walking in and out of the back office while this spectacle had been going on said, “For Fuck Sake, even I want smell now.” He stood behind Jamie and with two fingers, dragged one hand behind each woman’s parted ass crack before poking their assholes for good measure with the tip. He held it up for the tall quiet man holding the clothes. “Smell”

Uncle Creepy did as he was told, and if Bill wasn’t mistaken, a genuine smile appeared across his face.

“Do” Short Round instructed of the man and he repeated what he had just seen Short Round do, dropping the clothes to the ground, sniffing his own finger.

“Thank you Sir, you can refresh your finger anytime my father or Chris wants, I am glad you like my girl stink.” Jamie answered him, while the two put on the clothes.

The skimpy garments did not just have dried cum all over them. There may have been poop-striped skid marks in the skirts from when he wore them. They were dirty and Wendy wondered if they had some additional smell like chicken soup on them. Despite their submissive words, their faces of disgust told the men everything they wanted to know about how difficult putting the clothes back on was for them.

“You don’t seem happy with the clothes you were given, you sure you don’t want other arrangements to be made?” Bill’s question was more of a warning to brighten up and show appreciation. It worked, the girl’s turned their cauliflower expressions into cheerful although possibly forced smiles.

Bill paid Madam Chang for the new body jewelry, and grabbed his wife by her nipples. The half-shirt top she was wearing offering absolutely no protection from his pinching fingers.  “Are you ready to have some fun and amuse your husband, bitch?”

“Yes sir, if it pleases you.” Wendy answered stoically.

“What about you cunt-pie cutie?” Bill took his daughter’s nipple in his other hand, and pressed down hard. Her face an unexpected cross between a wince and an orgasm. “You miss having that tail stuffed up that crowded poop hole of yours?”

She had expected a question like her mom received about being willing to amuse her betters. Caught off guard she answered “I definitely notice its absence, Sir.”

This was amusing enough for Bill and Chris who winked at one another.

Dressed as they had been when they first arrived at the county fair, the girls were given a slap to the ass as they were led out of Madam Changs with her blessing.

When the family had left her trailer, Madam Chang, the twins and Short Round let themselves burst out with a derisive laughter reserved mostly for super villains and playground bullies.

“You think they bought what you said?” Robert, the twin formerly known as Yuki asked.

“Oh definitely. What happens at the fair, stays at the fair.” She joked in response. “They know what they need to know, they think what I want them to think.” she grinned as she took a drink from an ice cold bottled water that she had recently taken out of a cooler.

Short Round twisted the top of a bottle of water that was sitting close to him in agreement. “I would have fucked younger one so hard, if you let me!” He imitated a female voice “She scream, Oh Short Round, me love you long time! You dick so big!” he laughed at his impression.

“I didn’t get a good look up in her guts, but something tells me she really does have her hymen, as hard as that is to believe. I think she is still a virgin.” Chang told her diminutive employee.

“Who care, I fuck her up ass then.” Short Round answered hungrily as he took a swig of the water, before spitting it all over the twins in disgust.

“This Piss!!” he looked at the bottle, noting the yellow liquid. It was the bottle of urine Jamie had brought in with her when they first came in. “Those fucking bitch!!!” he shook his fist in the air in futility to the sound of sarcastic laughs.

As the scene in the trailer fades to black, the scene focuses back where it should be on the Taylor family, and of course their new hanger-on in the form of Uncle Creepy walking behind them, never leaving them out of his sight.

The Family Feud III

Chapter Eleven
“Into the deep-fryer”

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 26
JAMIE: 29

The Taylor family traveled a good distance towards the main strip of the Midway, the brightest lights, the busiest, the loudest epicenter of all activity at the fair. They had begun their family fun night on the outer perimeter of fun. Venues like the arcade and tattoo parlor were relegated to the outer fringes where customers were fewer. This had made it easier to go almost unnoticed at times.

The second notch on the boiler cooker of humiliation and scorn had been being tied to the front of an Asian novelty stand to dance and take pictures with the customers who happened by. They hadn’t been as fortunate in being able to avoid being spotted, sometimes by people who knew them from before they had begun their new roles. The first act of our story was only a warm up to accepting that they were no more than dancing entertainment for hapless strangers.

The festive nature of their costumes, and the darkness conspiring to give the girls some small measure of protection, some false sense that unless people look closely, they won’t be able to see the rounded butt cheeks or bouncing tits, and register this as ‘naked’.

Many people did have the sense the girls were almost naked when they were out there. They just had not registered the alarm one reserves for unexpected nudity from flashers in trench coats. Attractive girls hawking adult novelties in risqué’ dress could be justified by a rational mind as belonging there. The fact the girls danced and acted like it was a normal thing, only further adding to this illusion.

The fair is a raunchy place, as they walked past dart games where if you pop a balloon you can win small mirrors or posters of sexy women, hot cars and rock bands would attest. You might notice paintings of nearly naked ladies climbing frosty peaks on the side of the Himalaya. Most didn’t as they squealed “Himalaya!” with their hands above their head being spun in a circle at high speed to old 1980s hip-hop music.

Wendy and Jamie did. They noticed that sex sells here. It wasn’t the only allure of the fair. There were stands selling the Godfather and the mobster from Scarface’s image sitting at poker tables across from each other, images of long dead rappers, marijuana leafs, guns, rock bands, their only commonality being how trashy and garish they were.

It did reinforce to Jamie and Wendy that the rules were different here at the fair. They could be a little more over the top, a little more sexy, a little more broad minded about what they do and get away with it.

They passed herds of young girls, some younger than Jamie. These girls were dressed as provocatively, if not more so than they were. It hadn’t stopped the young girls from offering dirty looks to the pretty Taylor women as they passed by, their scorn more out of jealousy than anything else.

Black girls dressed in thigh high boots and tops off the shoulder, walking as if they owned the fair, and how dare you not look at them. Puerto Rican girls shouting “Meda Meda” as if to say “Look at me! I am wearing a powder pink tank top and hot pants that show off my well rounded Puerto Rican ass!” White girls with holes in their low-rise jeans, patched by lace, who seemed oblivious to the 2 inches of ass crack that peeped just out of the back of the top of their jeans when they bent over to display their ‘whale tail’ thonged panties. There was no shortage of cute hotties, some walking hand in hand with cute guys, but most roaming the fair in packs like wild antelope on the Serengeti.

There were fat ones, skinny ones, old ones, young ones in between ones. Big boobs, small puffy boobs, big butts, flat butts. Wendy wasn’t the only mother walking with her slutty daughter, in fact they passed a few who had chosen to come to the fair of their own free will, intentionally dressed far sluttier if that can be believed With  denim micro skirts with cowboy boots, green tube tops, painted faces, and more camel toe than you could count.

The men were hunting them with their eyes like hungry lions.  Young boys, dad’s walking with families, creepy old men and the carnies who served the food and ran the games and rides. They watched the young pert butts as the girls ran around the fair, each secretly believing himself to be the only pervert to enjoy the eye candy on display at the hot humid fair.

The men at the fair were wearing over-sized belt buckles, shirts with no sleeves, and a variety of fashion “don’ts”, but few if any of them seemed willing to put themselves on display like the females.  Some women were dressed more conservatively, but far more seemed to be flaunting what mother nature or the plastic surgeon had given them. Prominent tattoos, gold teeth, low hung tops, sports bras worn as tops, lycra spandex pants. One might think the fair was some sort of exhibitionist’s paradise, but it was more like Walmart on steroids. Yes, many of the women had chosen to dress for attention, but for many here, Wendy got the impression this was simply their normal everyday attire. It was a side of life she had been insulated from, living the upper to middle class white-bread lifestyle she had been.

This was the game that had been played at fairs, fourth of July celebrations,  backyard pool parties and any place young girls wore skimpy outfits around the opposite gender for years. The girls gallivant around in something that raises the men’s eyebrows (or more), and then act surprised, possibly even offended when they catch one of them looking.

Wendy and Jamie were no strangers to the reality of that game. Even Jamie had realized guys didn’t just watch cheer leading and girl’s gymnastics simply because they appreciated the athleticism, determination and school spirit. Wendy had always known there were men who attended her aerobics class simply to pick up girls, and the ones who weren’t so handsome just to ogle them. Some would even be bold enough to ‘accidentally’ line up behind her to watch her ass in spandex as she bent over to stretch. When she had to turn around to face her ‘stretch partner’ the fat sweaty guy standing there would pretend as if it had been just luck of the draw he was standing behind her.

They hadn’t wanted to think too hard about the game of males and females. The way even the most loyal husband would learn to watch without turning his head, a sexy ass go walking past while shopping with his loving wife. They had simply accepted the attentions were part of life, and had chosen to ignore them.

That is of course until tonight brought this lesson crashing upon their heads. Feeling every stranger’s eye on them, their heels made their walk more pronounced, wiggling their ass side to side in time with each other without realizing it. Their braless tits under their yellow half-shirts bouncing and jiggling, with nipple rings holding the shirts straight out like tent poles.

You two cunts are quiet.” Chris noted of his mother and sister. Just as his sister sounding sexy didn’t seem quite right, on those rare times Chris wasn’t joking, he too sounded a little unnatural.

“I am sorry Sir, what would you like to talk about?” Wendy answered him. Her eyes went wide as the four of them came to a stop. They were at the point the smaller path they were on met the chaotic main strip of the fair midway. It felt like bringing one’s raft from a small river into the full majesty of the Mississippi river might. The people themselves, moving in different directions, representing the river’s mighty current going in all directions.

“What game we should play next.” Chris answered her question with what had been on his mind, smiling ominously. He suggested they play ‘corn dog’, a game he and his father had dreamed up together during their hour alone. The rules were simple. The girls would each place a fresh corn dog between their butt cheeks. They would have to pick it up each time they drop it, and take a bite out of it (end first) and the first girl to finish loses.

“Are there any stakes for who has the tightest ass cheeks contest?” Wendy was quietly reminded by her own question that neither her or her daughter had technically won their own wager earlier about who could get 10 pictures first despite them both coming close to the goal.

“You are always worried about what you get out of this.” Bill noted with bemused disgust shaking his head. “Okay, the stakes are whoever wins gets to pick the next dare game.”

“Pick from two of your choices, or make up one of our own?” Jamie asked a point of clarification.

Bill hadn’t really thought about it. “That sounds good, I like the second one. You’ll have time to think about it while we take you two ‘walkies’” He used the babyish term they had made up for walking Rosco, their dog on a leash years earlier. They were already in line at one of the dozens of stands selling food.

With the hundreds of people roaming the nucleus of the fair, there was no way their antics could go unnoticed. Add to that, it was as if they were fully saturated in the unnatural glow of fair light, that no one would have missed seeing the food drop. “Won’t people think two girls putting corn dogs between their cheeks is strange?”

“Actually, I don’t think people will. You’ve my permission to make up an entertaining excuse for your behavior, or you can tell the truth. We are going to split up, so it doesn’t draw too much attention if you both drop your goodies at the same time. We’ll make a full circle of the midway and meet back at this spot.” Bill was receiving the corn dogs from the vendor as he told the family his rules.

“Can I take Mom?” Chris asked. Bill had intended to walk with Wendy, he liked making her do more when Jamie wasn’t around. He had actually engineered the split up, so that he could make Wendy stick the corn dog up her twat, something he had felt would cross their line around Jamie.

“She is your property too, that’s fine with me,” Bill seeming only mildly surprised, “Can I ask why?”

“Well it just seems you are always with Mom, and I am usually supervising Jamie. I thought I’d get a little mother-son bonding time in” He smirked.

Joke or not, Wendy had never heard him in her entire life say he wanted to hang out with his mom. She couldn’t remember the last time he had wanted to go with her and her alone to anything she did. This could be in part because most of her activities had been going to Starbucks, exercise class, shopping and continuing education for work. She felt a strange flattery about his comments.

“Thank you Sir, I am very flattered you want to supervise me.” She told him so.

“Shut up Mom, and stick this piping hot corn dog between your ass cheeks” Chris held the gold crusted dog gingerly by the stick out for her.

“Yes Sir, thank you.” she took it between her fingers and put it behind her, up under her skirt ‘clenching’. The searing pain was intense, forcing her to close her eyes and wince. She could hear the men giggling, as Jamie did the same. Jamie danced in place, hopping from foot to foot “Hot, hot, hot, hot” fanning her ass as the corn dog cooled.

When she finally stopped dancing, she asked through less pained eyes, “I suppose we shouldn’t ask if these are gluten free?” making a tiny joke, made all the more funny by Jamie's pained expression.

Bill who didn’t know what gluten was, quipped “They aint Gluteus Maximus free, how about that?” Slapping his daughter’s ass cheek playfully, tugging her to get moving.

Wendy noted to herself that both her and her daughter had a definable shift in attitude. The voices in Wendy's head that internalized questions like “Damn this is going to hurt!” or “What the fuck are they thinking?” were still there. There were just answers like, “Yes, it is, you agreed to this”, or “Impress them by trying not to freak out” or “Wow, that is actually clever.”

She realized that they were both seeing sides of Chris and Bill that they hadn't seen before. It wasn't a perfect transformation, but they were becoming more and more confident. At the same time, by an equal measure that her and her daughter were becoming more and more submissive. Wendy realized that tonight she had actually missed Bill and Chris being in charge of them, instead of asking herself why anyone was in charge of them in the first place. The thoughts made her uncomfortable, because another part of her felt ashamed for having them.

“Who will Creepy follow?” Chris asked of the quiet stranger following them. They hadn’t watched how many times he had brought up a finger to his dirty gray mustache, or cared much to check to see if he was still behind them. They simply walked and like a stray puppy in search of a meal he followed.

“It will be interesting to see who he follows, won’t it?” Bill said not waiting for an answer, as he took his daughter in hand and marched her off in the opposite direction.

The main strip of the midway was wide, straight and narrow. It might have rivaled the layout of an ancient Roman chariot race stadium, the entire main strip making one complete circuit with shops in the center as the divider between the wide channels on either side.

“C’mon Mom.” Wendy followed her son, feeling as if she had corn on the cob between her cheeks, she couldn’t take long strides like her son.

“Please sir, wait up.” She called after her son to slow down.

“Why? I want you to drop your corn dog. C’mon hurry your ass up, and let it slip.” Chris waited for her noting “Uncle Creepy must like Jamie better, what a pity.”

Wendy felt an odd sense of relief that he was gone, overlapped by what may have been jealousy that her daughter had obviously held his attention more than she had. She hated to admit things like that to herself, obviously she was younger, but for a woman her own age, especially with big tits, she thought she may hold his interest. How odd it was, she wondered at all about his interest in her or her daughter for that matter.

It was at this moment while she stood processing that realization that the greasy corn dog slid down her leg, landing with a thud in the dirt.

“Careless” Chris shook his head laughing, “Pick it up, cunt. Don’t waste it, it’s probably all you’ll get to eat tonight.”

Wendy could hear him talking, but in the chaotic crowd, his words must have blended right in with the thunderous din of background noise to the rest of the people walking past.

Wendy squatted down, her thighs apart and took a big bite of the corn dog. She took her time, putting it in her mouth as if she were sucking it like a dick before she bit down. Then she placed it between her ass, adjusted it with her fingers and stood up. If anyone had managed to get a show, no one said a word. People were moving all around them, too busy to stop and observe a very sexy little show.

“Good job, you little corn-sucker!” He patted his mom on the head on her way back up.

As they continued to walk, Wendy took her son’s hand. He led her, the way she had led him threw grocery stores when he was a little boy.

“Chris Sir, you don’t actually get creeped out when you see me do things like that?”

“Suck a corn dog like a dick? No, why would I.” Chris laughed.

“Well, until last week, I was your mother, Sir.” Wendy answered.

“You are still my mom, Mom.” Chris grinned “You are just way more fun now.”

“It’s fun when I drop the corn dog, I got between my ass cheeks, Sir?” she asked confused. They hadn’t talked like this since her training began. He had usually made her start exercising immediately when they were alone.

“Well, it’s fun knowing you put it between your crack because I told you too, that when you drop it in the dirt, you have to eat it without wiping it off, and that you are going to put it back to keep doing it, because you are competing with my little sister, to show us how much ass-control either of you have.”  Chris clarified.

They were walking past a place that sold turquoise Indian jewelry and magic tricks, when Wendy let her corn dog drop again. “Ooopsie, I am such a clumsy oaf, Sir.” She admitted like she were a blonde bimbo.

“Pick it up, and carry it right, Slut.” Chris told her impatiently.

“May I take a bite, I am SOO hungry Sir, I won’t bite off more than just the tip…” Her tone sexy and seductive as she slid down to squat as she had before. This time she noticed a few glances from men as they passed by, most being good at trying to obscure their curiosity.

Chris, realizing she was trying to lay it on thick for his benefit “It isn’t as fun if you do it on purpose.” He looked down upon his squatting mother and confirmed, “Yeah, you can take a bite, impress me, bitch.”

She took another bite of the dog as if it were the most delicious, passion-inducing flavor of all time. Then she rose as she pushed the dog between her cheeks.

“I am sorry Sir. I thought if I got into it for you, it would amuse you?”

“It does.” Chris admitted. “I like you to cooperate; I just don’t want you to be TOO into it.” He tried to explain.

Wendy’s response was cheerful, chewing with her mouth full “Trust me, I think I bit into a huge dirt clump that last time” she was still chewing, fanning her mouth and making a face like she wasn’t sure what she just ate.

The pair laughed as they continued down the fair’s promenade of colorful shops, and crowded games.

“Does it creep you out to do it for me?” Chris asked his mom.

“Serve like your little pet and have you laugh at me every time I make a mistake, Sir?” Wendy filled in the blank on what “it” might mean to Chris.

“Yeah, basically that.”

“Probably creeps me out as much as it did you when your sister and I took away your clothes, and made you exercise naked. When I had you jerk off with your dad, Sir.” Wendy said reflecting on why it must have seemed so important to her weeks ago, to prove a point to them. That no matter how she accomplished it, she had justified humiliating them.

“Yeah, but I knew you weren’t getting turned on by it.” Chris answered with certainty.

“There were times I was amused by what I was having you do.” Wendy dropped her corn dog again, and begged him to stop. Once she had retrieved it, taken another bite and inserted it between her ass cheeks this time the foot long considerably shorter, she was certain a young couple had watched her stick the dog under her skirt. She was shocked they said nothing or confronted her about her naughty behavior. 

The break in the discussion allowed Wendy to collect her thoughts. “Actually, I have wanted to thank you, Sir.”

“You thank me three times a day at affirmations, and you’ll thank me for supervising you while we permit you to consume that corn dog” Chris said without thinking as he side-stepped some football players from his school. None of whom recognized him.

“Yes Sir, and I thank you for all of that. What I mean to say is that I thank you for not being as hard as you could be on Jamie and me.”

“What are you talking about?” Chris asked as if his mom was being critical of how hard he hit. Could she really be mocking how easy this dare was? Chris wondered.

“I am sorry, I am not sure how to touch upon this. You’ve kicked both of our asses pretty hard the last few days. I didn’t mean that way. I meant that aside from the pain, and the binding and the humiliation, and the hard work, you could have demanded we satisfy you in more ways than just masturbating you.” She regretted bringing up the topic, but she had wanted to find a way to say to her son what she was thinking.

“You must think I am really sick to want to fuck you, huh?” Chris asked his mom narrowing his eyes in disgust.

“Sir, I am trying to pay you a compliment. Through it all, you’ve had your fun at our expense, but you’ve taken the high road about that. I just want to say it hasn’t gone unnoticed by me, and it makes me respect you more than I can really explain.”

There was silence between the two for a little longer as Chris tried to get his head around what his mom was saying to him. He had been acting very naturally, going as far as his conscience had allowed him to go with them.

Instead of continuing the conversation, he noted that his mom had been absentmindedly bumping along to a Jay-Z song as they passed a ride.

“You haven’t dropped the corn dog in a while, Slut.” he said over his shoulder to her, still holding her hand.

“I’ve got a good wedge going on back there, Sir” her easy grin that of someone who was pleased with their good fortune.

“Look at this.” Chris guided the two of them to a stand selling fur rugs, leather biker chaps, and Indian Dreamcatchers. Chris picked up a tiny metal alligator clip tethered by soft leather string to a tiny Dreamcatcher.

Wendy took one look at the tiny little metal clips which were most likely intended to hold someone’s joint after they finished smoking pot and knew what her son had in mind. “May I wear them under my shirt, Sir?” she pleaded.

“I was thinking under your skirt, but sure two for your nipples works too.”

His mother’s face was impassive. She really felt she had no choice but to comply. She wanted to ask if this was retaliation for her comments that he could have been worse earlier, but she didn’t want to sound petty. She simply nodded quietly.

“Oh no, don’t do that.” Chris said disappointed. “Don’t just whimper and comply. Why do you want to ruin my fun? Tell you what, if you can dance out your corn dog in the most hilarious way by the time I pay for them, you can wear two and Jamie gets the other two.”

Wendy wasn’t seeing how that sounded like a good deal. She did not want her daughter to have to endure the alligator clips, so her instinct was to be wary.

“But if you still have the dog clenched up that tight ass of yours, then you’ll put on all four at the cash register, and I’ll get two more to decorate Jamie. The only question would be top or bottom.”

“Yes Sir” Wendy started to pick at her ass to loosen the corn dog, accepting Chris’s conditions without question or counter-negotiation.

“Oh hell no, no fair using fingers. You were dancing pretty fly earlier. I want to see you shake that ass. Prolong it a little. If you drop it out without any flourish, I’ll buy eight of these clips.”  Holding up one of the little alligator clips to emphasize his point.

Wendy followed her son around the clothes for sale in the stand with a wintry smile of anticipation for the ‘show’ she would be putting on. She was holding six identical Dreamcatchers, shaking her ass cheeks in the tight skirt she wore trying to dislodge the half-eaten corn dog while waiting for the ideal moment. She was looking for an opportunity that wouldn’t draw too much attention, but just enough her son would be amused.

There were racks of clothes that made excellent privacy barriers to other customers. Thin leggings stretched over mannequins, designed to look like jeans. Short-shorts and vest tops. “These could easily be bitch box clothes.” Wendy noted to her son. The stuff they had to wear was second-hand. The county fair seemed like a reasonable explanation as to where someone would have bought them first hand in the first place. Wendy turned her attention to a rib place next door to the clothes stand. It might be easier to get someone’s attention a few feet away than find one to do this in front of, someone right behind her in the crowded maze of clothing racks.

Wendy saw two old men sitting at a picnic table who were facing towards her. They seemed to be peacefully watching the fair, probably looking at pretty young things parading up and down the midway. “Oh dear, how foolish of me, I seemed to have dropped my Dreamcatchers.” She said obvious enough to get their attentions.

Then she touched her toes without bending her knees, something she had practiced not only during the training but for years in exercise class.  She let the corn dog make its way lose. It felt like she had just dropped a turd as it  landed with a thud.

She looked behind her, having their attention in the palm of her hand. “Do you see something you like, Sirs?” Fluttering her eyes and shaking her butt while still bent over. She swiveled to pick up the corn dog, put it in her mouth, licked it, pulled it back out, then put it in again to take her bite.

The old men reminded her of Statler and Waldorf, the old men who sit in the balcony and make fun of the Muppet show all night. Except, this time they were just smiling and staring dumbfounded by Wendy’s performance.

The men’s eyes were glassy and wide, as if they had seen the holy grail of fair-related accidental nudity. Wendy knew that from this angle her entire pussy was poking out of the back of the skirt. She smiled at them, and put her finger over her lips as if to say “Don’t tell anyone, this will be our little secret.” She reached behind herself as she stood up straight and inserted the corn dog between her cheeks “It’s too bad I don’t have a purse, I just have no place to keep my food, and my Dreamcatchers.”

She didn’t look back, she sashayed forward to her son who had watched the entire spectacle. “Not bad, Mom!” he congratulated her.

They continued to look at the skimpy clothes; perhaps Chris was giving her an opportunity to impress him again with her creativity and willingness to humiliate herself.

“Hard to believe I have you under my command, and here I am shopping for clothes with my mom.” Chris observed sarcastically.

“Sir, I am sorry, I didn’t make more time to go places with you. I didn’t know what we had in common. We can go if you like. I am only here because you are here. I don’t have the money or the authority to buy anything new.”

“I thought it might be a treat to do a little clothes shopping. I thought you liked that sort of thing.”

Wendy thought about explaining that her stores were far from this trailer-park mecca. She didn’t want to sound like Gerald’s mom, and she certainly didn’t want to sound ungrateful at her son’s gesture. “Thank you Sir, that is very thoughtful. When my training is over, can we sit down and talk about places we could go together, that we’d both enjoy?” she asked him.

They were already in line to pay for the Dreamcatchers. He nodded that he’d like that very much. “I don’t suppose you’d do the corn dog thing for me once the training is over?” He asked politely.

“It depends. How do you feel about shopping at Bed, Bath and Beyond or Dillard’s?” She named a few of her favorite places.

Chris made a face like he just ate sour ass at the mention of the two stores. They were the least favorite, testosterone draining stores he could think of spending time in.

“We will have to work out a trade.” She smiled at him without explaining whether she was kidding or not. They were already at the cash register and Chris paid for four with the wad of money he had come here with.

“Would you like me to wear them out, Sir?” she asked her son still standing at the front of the line.

“No” Chris answered dryly as if he were answering the most mundane question. Wendy was shocked he didn’t want her to make a spectacle in front of the diminutive Asian shopkeeper who would have been an excellent match for short round.

Noting his mother’s suspense at what he wanted her to do, he handed two of the small Dreamcatchers to her once he finished paying. “The other two are for your daughter”.

“Yes Sir, I am sure she’ll appreciate them as much as I do.”

“Of that, I have no doubt. The old guys who watched your little show. Why don’t you go ask them if they will help you put the clips on?”

“Sir?” Wendy’s eyes got wide at the thought of being that forward with the two older men. She had done some disgusting things this past week, but most of them involving other men had been at her husband’s order, not her sons. “Can I ask them to put them on my nipples, Sir?” she pleaded.

“You seem to want the clips on your nips. Why do I always give in to you?” He pinched her cheek like she was a precocious child getting extra scoops of ice cream from him.

“Thank you Sir, very generous!” Wendy said letting out the breath she had been holding in anticipation of his answer.

“Wait a second.” Chris warned her patiently before she eagerly plodded off to the BBQ place. “You’ll have to drop the corn dog while you talk to them.”

“And take a bite, and put it back, Sir?” Wendy already knew the answer. She just realized the Asian woman taking their money had overheard the entire conversation and was being annoyed by it. She apologized to the sales lady before summoning her courage to walk over to them. “I’ll give it the college try, Sir!” She promised her son, a phrase intended to invigorate her own courage more than assure him.

Wendy sauntered over to the old men who watched her approach to their picnic table. “Hello, I couldn’t help but notice you from next door at the clothes kiosk.”

They nodded quietly, surprised by her forwardness.

“Do you mind if I have a seat?” Wendy asked as if she were a Hooter’s waitress trying to earn that big tip from her customer.

Once again, they nodded.

Wendy sat on the lap of the one closest to her, put her arms around his neck and smiled at him. The twinkle in her eyes and smile on her lips helped diffuse the butterflies that were on high alert, circling in her tummy. She could see Chris was standing close enough to hear their exchange.

“So, do you want to talk about whatever pops up?” She made another little joke and they politely laughed. They were obviously somewhat intimidated by Wendy’s aggressive flirting, but their body language did not suggest she stop.

“The reason I popped over is I just bought these.” She held them up to show the men. Their faces seemed to suggest, “Oh here it comes, some scam where we have to buy these from her”.

She looked over at her son for moral support and guidance on what to do. His look of scorn shot through her. She realized she hadn’t bought the Dreamcatchers so she took a slightly more honest approach.

“I mean to say, my son bought these for me as a gift.” Wendy corrected her story.  Chris nodded at his mom to continue along those lines.

“We had a little discussion about it, and he seems to think they are worn on the nipples, but I think they are supposed to be worn on the cunt lips, Sir. I thought you two seeming so wise and worldly would know how they are supposed to be worn?” Wendy’s face turned flush with embarrassment, but if the men noticed, they didn’t let on.

Wendy adjusted herself so that she could sit between them. She let her corn dog clatter on the wooden picnic table seat, and smiled at the two men. They simply looked back at her with wide eyes, but pleased faces. As she took her position flanked between them she pulled her skirt as far apart as it would go. “Would you put them on for me, Sir?” She motioned to her tits and to her crotch, but they seemed confused.

She began to lick her corn dog, flicking her tongue and playing with herself under the table with one finger.  One of the old men had his hand on her knee lustily but neither made a move to attach her clips.

“Dreckige Hure?” the one with the hand on the knee said to her in what was probably German.

“ich will dich ficken” the other one who hadn’t yet spoken said more like a question than a statement.

“Do you speak any English?” Wendy asked them feeling her attempt at seduction collapsing around her.

They shook their heads in confusion.  Wendy glanced at Chris who was smiling at this funny turn of events.

Wendy opened one of the alligator clips, its tiny serrated teeth not sharp enough to cut skin, but sharp enough to pinch. She held it open and let it snap closed on her finger. The pain stung, but it wasn’t worse than an annoying insect bite that never went away.

She nodded to them as if to see if they understood what she had just done. They both nodded “Yah” in agreement.

She handed each of them one of the Dreamcatchers by the clip. She gently guided the first man’s hand under her skirt, she pulled her cunt lip out for him with her finger and let him snap it. There was a click, and Wendy’s eyes almost teared up and then she smiled politely at him before repeating the same exercise with his friend.

“Thank you Sirs.” She stood up still holding the corn dog in one hand. “Would one of you be so kind, as to put this back in place?” She said to them before realizing asking was pointless. She handed one the once footlong giant dog, and helped him to guide it under her skirt. He brushed her cunt with it, and she smiled at him knowingly, nodding when he squeezed it between her cheeks.

She gave them both kisses on their bald heads, and with that walked over to her son and took his hand so that he could lead her out of there. A fat woman who had been watching this quietly from the only other nearby picnic table chose this moment to say to Wendy “You disgusting whore.”

Her son turned to her and said, “I know, isn’t it liberating that a person in America can aspire to be anything she wants?” wiping the look of disgust and condemnation right off her face. She had nothing to use as a come back to that when she was expecting instead, some explanation or defense of her behavior.

The two old men looked at one another after the slut who had breezed over to their table and for some inexplicable reason helped them to attach very painful looking alligator clips to her pussy lips and smiles spread across their lips. They would puzzle at her reasons for sitting with them for many years to come.

“Owie, Owie, Owie” Wendy was now writhing in pain as the clips bit into her cunt lips. She wasn’t bleeding, but the pressure was extremely uncomfortable, to the point she could think of nothing else.

“Oh quit your belly-aching, mom! You think that is anything compared to what Jamie is probably feeling on that clit of hers?”

“No sir, hers is probably worse.” Wendy panted in exasperation trying to keep up with her son, clench the corn dog, and manage to not let the two Dreamcatchers dangling out of the bottom of her skirt get tangled.

“Oh, oh” Wendy found herself making silly noises in a vain attempt to mitigate the sharp pain on her sore pussy lips. “Is that Jamie, Sir?” she pointed in the distance at a girl with long blonde hair.

Chris angled them closer, past a place that sold old video game systems and action figures which may have held his interest on any other night. The girl had high cheekbones, a button nose, blue eyes like his sister, and just as tall but she was clearly not Jamie. She was walking hand in hand with a man old enough to be her father. “Wow, what a coincidence.” Chris noted to himself.

His mother was hopping from foot to foot, puffing air and blowing it out of her mouth to keep her mind off her pain.

“Well that was a waste, but I do recognize this little douche.” Chris put his hand on his friend Gerald’s shoulder to get his attention. Gerald was checking out some vintage Pokemon Nintendo 64 cartridges when he saw his friend.

“Hey buddy! Where is Jamie?” he asked looking Mrs. Taylor up and down with absolutely no concern for what may be the reason she was acting so strangely.

“Dad’s got her, So I get to kick around this sack of shit.” He slapped his mother’s butt, paying no attention to her pain as well. He acted as if it may be a desperate cry for attention while he caught up with his friend.

Gerald explained that the family split up for a few hours. “Everyone seemed to be getting on each other’s nerves, so we are supposed to meet back at the entrance later.”  He sounded disappointed in the outcome of ‘family fun time’.

“I still can’t believe your mom lets you boss her around like this.” Gerald glanced at Wendy, but was clearly talking to his friend.

“You know all males are superior to females, and that you are following the natural order of things to take instruction and discipline from me, don’t you Mom?” Chris asked his mother for confirmation that this was indeed the way things were.

“Yes Sir” she was trying to adjust to her pain as she added, “Taylor men come first. It is so nice to see you again Gerald.” she could feel her nipples hardening in response to the surge of pain in her pussy, blood was pumping through her body.

“I wish I could get my mom and sister to do that.” Gerald said admiring the situation Chris had.

“I didn’t know you had a sister, dude?”

“Gloria? She goes to your school? I am surprised you never saw her before.” Gerald told him, the boys ignoring Wendy’s suffering completely while they talked. “She didn’t come with us tonight, because she had a date. You didn't even know I had an older brother!”

“That could be because all we talk about is legos, star wars, and video games!” Chris nodded in understanding. “She must run in a more popular circle than mine. You’d get off on your mom having to be your little bitch?”

“Who wouldn’t? Waiting on me hand and foot, attentive to my every need.” Gerald made Wendy's service sound less perverted, and more like just being a very giving mother.

“Yeah, but you gotta watch em like a hawk, spank their asses, teach them who is boss. It gets exhausting.” Chris didn't sound completely convincing that he minded all that much doing those things, largely, because he was enjoying the responsibilities that came along with the authority.

“Douche, can I ask, why is your mom spazzing out?” Gerald asked, finally noting Wendy's pained gyrations. His curiosity about whatever was bothering her finally getting the best of him. He had heard all of these affirmations from Jamie when he had gone on dates with her, it didn’t shock him to hear Wendy answer that way.

“She is on a dare where she has to carry a corn dog all the way around the midway in her ass crack.”

“…and it’s piping hot?” Gerald said with just a hint of sadism.

“No, it was earlier. She has to eat a bite every time it drops to the ground.”

“Sick dude!” Gerald’s words were disapproving, but the tone he said it in was like congratulations on a job well done.

“Yeah, she is hopping around because I made her ask some guys to attach some clips to her pussy lips, and she is such a big baby!” He turned to look at his mom as he said the last part of the sentence to register his disappointment, she was still writhing in pain, trying to control her breathing.

“Can you rent her out to me to date?” Gerald looked appraisingly at Mrs Taylor as if she were prime rib hanging in the meat department.

“Mom, would you like me to rent you out to Gerald?”

“If he wants.” she made a breath that sounded like “Hoo-Haaa” and started to fan her crotch. “I would think I am too old for him, and he would prefer Jamie since she is closer to his own age.” Wendy didn't want to be rented out, least of all to Gerald. At that moment her answer was given without truly thinking it out due to her discomfort.

“And Prettier” Chris said aloud.

His mom agreed, stepping from side to side to distract herself from her throbbing pain. It was starting to dawn on her that Chris was negotiating to sell her mouth to Gerald. Where would this end? Like an emerging Napoleon, would he settle for conquering one Country or go on to take everything. Every time Wendy accepted the line, Chris moved it just a little bit on her. Was he willing to do anything that pops into his mind without any regard for consequences to anyone (including himself) or did he have an internal filter that suggested he stop pushing?

Was it fair she be rented out this way? It didn't feel like it to Wendy, at the same time she could see this as an opportunity to protect her daughter from Chris escalating things with her, if she was willing to 'suck it up'.

“Yeah, but your mom let’s people play with her pussy. Would she suck my dick?” Gerald asked Chris.

Chris in turn asked his Mom the same question.

“If you’ll promise not to put these clips on us, yes Sir.” she begged pleadingly without thinking.

“Done deal” Chris told his mom before singing to Gerald “Oh-wee oh-wee-oh, Jungle Love! 15 bucks little man, put that shit in my hand. If that money doesn’t show, then you owe me, owe me, owe!” He quoted from an obscure movie only the two of them recognized.

“Fifteen?” Gerald acted like this was a tremendous imposition, pulled out a wad of twenties and insisted on five dollars in change. “If she is good, I’ll want to rent her for a whole night, where can we do this at?”

Gerald seemed to act very mature when it came to this topic. The same young man who had only hours earlier begged his parents for a picture with someone dressed up as SpongeBob.

“How about the port-a-potties?” Chris didn’t need to point in their direction, the foul odor blowing from them told the three where they were. Chris added Gerald’s money to his own sizable wad of cash. Chris hadn’t worked for this money, but the look on his face told Wendy he enjoyed his transaction with Gerald immensely.

Wendy hopped behind her son, in disbelief she had just agreed to this. She had only a few minutes ago been thanking him for not taking things past a line, and now he was whoring her out to his friend. She wondered if her thanking her son for not pushing her past certain lines had actually goaded him into insisting on this, or if he just didn’t see the big deal in what he was demanding.

“Can I take off the clips, Sir?” she asked her son as they made their way into the unisex plastic portable toilets area. She hated to sound pathetic, but she heard the genuine begging in her voice. It was the element of half-crying, and urgency that was missing from her forced begging of Uncle Creepy earlier.

“Have you sucked Gerald’s dick yet, mom?”

“No sir?” Wendy answered that she hadn't, more in the form of a question like “Do I really have to do this, Sir?”

“Hand Gerald the Dreamcatchers so he can lead you into the port-a-potty by your cunt, since you think with your cunt, you can get out of everything simply by flashing it. When he thinks you’ve given him a good enough blowjob, he’ll pull those off.”  Chris's answer was one of someone who had already decided and was past any sort of negotiation.

“Sir, please…they are so tight, I think they’ll pull off my skin.”

“Awww, so your cunt would hurt and that should make me lose sleep, why?”

Wendy handed the round-spoked Dreamcatchers connected by clip to her precious pussy lips to Gerald without another word. She knew further discussion would only be overheard by strangers and she was in little position to negotiate.

She had to walk behind Gerald almost belly to his back, because the Dreamcatchers  weren’t very long as leashes go. “My son would like you to lead me by my cunt, the way I’ve led people around with it.” She was almost in tears as she offered her lead to Gerald.

“Oh is she going to cry? I don’t want my first blowjob ever where the girl is sobbing.” Gerald asked his friend.

“If she cries I’ll give you your money back and punish her, I promise.” Chris was acting magnanimous. He eyed his mother with a look that said “Suck it up, bitch!”

“Sir, would you hold my corn dog?” They had found an open port-a-potty and Gerald was leading her in with him.

Chris said “No, part of the dare is you find a way to not drop it. Hope you don’t let it fall in there, or you like chocolate on your dog!!” he waved her in. Wendy barely had time to notice the shock on people’s faces who were standing in lines for other porta-a-potties to see two people enter at the same time.

The fiberglass door slammed shut on its own weight, and Gerald turned the occupied sign to ‘on’ which in turn bolted the door. The floor was covered in wet mud, at least Wendy hoped it was the mud of countless dirty shoes and not something else.

Gerald unbuckled his pants and let them drop around his ankles. “C’mon, let’s hurry. I want to meet up with my brother. There is a sweet mint Vinyl Cape Jawa action figure out there, and I don’t think the guy selling it knows how valuable it is.”

Wendy had no idea how valuable it was either, or what a Jawa was. “Please don’t tell anyone, Jamie, like your brother. Let’s keep this between us, Sir?” She was already touching his cock, stroking it softly to get it hard.

“Why? You are a whore, your daughter knows that.”

Wendy spit on her right hand, and began to stroke Gerald with her moistened palm. She guided his other hand to her boob and let him feel under her shirt. He couldn’t see her smile at him, but he could hear it in the change of her voice. “Gerald, if you want to play with me like this, I probably have no choice in the matter until the week is up.”

She used her hand to pull the waistband of her skirt down slowly. 

Gerald seemed to be agreeing with her, she had his full attention.

She passed his uncut dick, still in its sheathe but semi-hard on the way down to the ground to pull her skirt off. It made her picture Rosco’s lipstick like dick and gave her the creeps. Instead of shivering she summoned the courage to give the tip a small kiss on the way back up.

“But if so, then I only have to do as much as my daughter does, which is I suppose pulling you off?” She looked down at her hand, stroking his cock trying to block out the guilt of playing with such a young guy. He was obviously no stranger to masturbation, it wasn’t like she was corrupting the innocent, she told herself.

“So if you want me to play nice with you, be generous.” She bent at the knee, slapping her skirt over her shoulder to free up her other hand so she could hold his bony hips close to her face. She let her breath play out on his dick as she said, “And suck your cock, Gerald.” in the most suggestive way. She was looking up at his face in the darkness for some sign of a reaction. She could only assume he was swooning, lost to the hold the release of orgasm had over good judgment.

“Then you’ll keep this between Chris, you and I. If you go out with Jamie, and you want to pay my son to have me come and finish you, you can think about her, while I do this.” She opened her mouth and puffed on his erect penis, letting her saliva paint it like a wooden fence post.

Wendy realized young boys are going to have a tough time keeping their mouth shut about things like this. Even Senators seem to have a tough time keeping their mouth shut about things like this. It would be her word against his if it gets around though, although she wasn't exactly in a position to seem entirely credible. At least making this promise, would be better than the alternative of him simply going to Jamie and her wanting to do whatever her Mom had to do.

Her mouth worked his cock like a well-oiled machine humming up and down, its pistons moving in perfect timing.

He moaned soft and low, completely in her power like a helpless maiden having been visited by the vampire through her window on a moonlit night..  Except of course it was a disgusting bathroom, and he was a young kid, and she a grown woman sucking cock.

She broke the suction of her mouth on his dick with a pop. She had practiced sucking dick many times, not just on her husband this past week. She felt her tongue was performing exquisitely, and she wanted confirmation that if she does this for Gerald, he’ll keep it between them.

“If you tell anyone else, or Chris tells anyone else besides some of Jamie’s other customers, then I’ll only do what she does, do we have an understanding, Sir?” her voice now dripping of feminine seduction.

“Yes Ma’am” Gerald sighed in ecstasy.

Playfully she told him, “You don’t have to call me Ma’am, you can call me your slut, your dirty little cocksucker, Sir.” she played her teeth nibbling on the underside of his dick. While squatting she felt the corndog finally drop to the floor, it had been inevitable that it would fall from between her ass cheeks. It was just as well, it gave her more mobility to get under Gerald’s dick.

The head seem to emerge from its sheath, as she worked her tongue inside the folds of flesh hiding it, to his groans. “Do you want to cum for me, Gerald? Cum in my mouth.” She begged him seductively as though she needed it fed to her.

He gripped the Dreamcatchers still in his hands like the reins of a horse, pulling hard and causing Wendy to almost bite down hard on his cock in her mouth. Fortunately, for Gerald, she stopped herself before she did. Wendy was using her moist hand to help guide his dick into her mouth and caressing him with the other. She took both and felt without seeing until she reached his hand that was holding her by the Dreamcatchers. She guided him to her pussy, squatting before him, he had to bend awkwardly to reach.

“It’s wet for you Gerald.” She hated to admit it was wet for a lot of reasons, but she never let on to Gerald. She wanted him to think that right now he is the Sun and she turns for him and him alone. “You can play with me, but please remove the Dreamcatchers, Sir.” She let him run his fingers along her clit hood, stopping to touch the ring of her piercing.

Gerald clumsily unclipped the alligator clips attached to the Dreamcatchers and whispered, “Mission accomplished, they already caught my dreams.” in a throaty voice, before his eyes rolled up, and his muscles clenched and he began to squirt.

Wendy opened her mouth to catch most of the boy’s cum. Some spilled on the floor right before she could get it all. She was sure no one would notice in this darkened filth. She had never swallowed when married to Bill. She hadn’t seen the point in it after she had gone down on him, with what happens to the seed afterward. This past week, she had learned how men seemed to enjoy the feeling of power it gave them over a woman who did it. It was a teaspoon at most of sour, salty goo, and she had tasted cum at least twice a day for a week.

“Thank you, Sir.” She dabbed the side of her mouth as if to get the last little drop of cum.

“You are welcome.” He was breathless. He sat his bare ass back on the open port-a-potty toilet.

Wendy squatted down to get the corndog and tried to wipe it off, before putting her skirt back on.

“What is that on your ass?” Gerald was still catching his breath.

Wendy tried to look behind her, dusting off her ass. “I don’t know Sir, Did I get it?” She asked with concern.

“Stand up, it says something.” He was squinting.

She stood up still naked from the waist down, holding a dirty corn dog in her left hand. “It says whore, we got them tonight, Sir.” Facing away from him she couldn’t see his reaction.

There was a pregnant pause. Then Gerald burst into laughter at her expense. “I thought you only had a week of this, why in the hell would you get a tattoo?”

Until that moment, Wendy hadn’t thought about the tattoo since earlier in the night. The way he said it, it didn’t make sense why she had the tattoo. “It was kind of an impulse, Sir”. She tried to explain how one thing led to another, but couldn’t over his uproarious laughter.

Chris could be heard outside pacing. “Okay Gerald, I am going to charge late fees. You’ve got to be done by now, Douche Ackbar.”

Gerald pulled his pants up in one clean motion without wiping his dick off. He opened the port-a-potty door without any concern for who might see Wendy who was still stripped bottomless and told his friend “It’s a Trap!”

Wendy wasn’t sure if that was a barb directed at her, but it amazed her at how much power she had over Gerald. She could have gotten him to agree to anything. Now that he had cum, he couldn’t be in the same general area as her or give her eye contact. She dressed, and carried her Dreamcatchers and corn dog back out to her son.

They were palling around, just joking when she walked up. “Sir, did you have fun?” She smiled at Gerald, her tone like that of a Mom who asked you if you had fun on a sleepover at someone’s house.

“Yes, but I so can’t believe you and Jamie got tattoos, I can’t wait to see hers!”

Wendy hadn’t had time for remorse about the tattoos in a while. She just gave him a wintry smile and held up her other order of business.

“Wow Mom, you’ve only got about 25% left to go on that Corn Dog.” Chris’s comment was meant to scare as much as warn, but his mom seemed non-plussed. The consequences of losing the dare to her daughter didn’t bother her as much as having to eat the corn dog had. She had been taking big bites in the hopes she’d be done with it sooner.

“A corn dog, for a horn dog!” Gerald’s tone was mocking of her, but she only returned his smile accepting his insult.

“This is how I sucked your Gerald’s dick, Sir” Wendy’s answer was a methodical recreation of the highlights of how she had licked and loved on Gerald’s pecker until he shot his load. There was no doubt that some of the people heading to the port-a-potties saw, a few college frat guys even yelling a celebratory “OH!!!”

Hardly anyone did notice her acting slutty in the darkened alcove lined with a wall of port-a-potties. Wendy imagined there may have been a mother who took her son by the hand and pulled him away from the ‘naughty woman’, but if that had happened, she didn’t see it. Instead, people brusquely moved right past them, ignoring her little recreation.

Gerald and Chris watched, not taking their eyes off her. When she finished, she bit into the dog simulating her taking Gerald’s cum into her wide open mouth.

Chris turned to Gerald “Next time is gonna be twenty.”

The Family Feud III

Chapter Twelve
“The Tunnel of Family Love”

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 26
JAMIE: 29

Wendy was smiling as they completed the Midway circuit. She wasn’t sure why, it sure wasn’t because she had just sucked her son’s younger friend’s dick. It sure wasn’t because she had just bit into a corn dog that had been sandwiched between her ass-cheeks and on the floor of the port-a-potty. It sure wasn’t because her pussy was STILL throbbing from the bite of those painful alligator clips.

It may have been because after Wendy had impressively demonstrated her performance with Gerald on a Corn Dog her son’s only response was to jack up his prices. It was the most surreal complement, and Wendy felt a little bad grinning as she walked behind Chris and Gerald thinking about it.

It had just been so funny, how he had said straight faced to Gerald that he was going to have to charge more. He had underestimated his Mom, she smirked not paying attention to their conversation. She hadn’t want to think too deeply about what the compliment really meant, she was satisfied to be amused with how he showed his approval.

Chris and Gerald were paying her no attention at all, making good time for the rendezvous spot with her husband.

“Look at that sausage stand, they’ve got a picture of Michael Jackson on the side of their cart. I would think seeing him on the side of where you buy your food wouldn’t inspire confidence, it’d probably frighten kids away.” Gerald was saying when Wendy listened in.

“Nah, it’s Michael Jackson Dogs. 50 year old wieners, between five year old buns.” Chris was genuinely funny and Wendy giggled at that, too.

Chris didn’t pay his mom any attention. She realized “Mother-son” bonding time was done and over with in light of his friend tagging along. The two friends were people watching and laughing, completely absorbed in each other’s company.

Wendy dropped her corn dog and begged them to stop. Begrudgingly they did, but they didn’t wait for her to perform with it, turning away as soon as she put it in her mouth. Wendy felt equally as guilty about the fact she may have just engineered that ‘accident’ for attention, or perhaps for her son’s approval as much as she had felt guilty for sticking it in her mouth. She didn’t do that again for the rest of the walk back to meet Bill.

Bill was standing there with Jamie tossing fried balls of dough at her while she paced back and forth. Bill had set up his own little target gallery and each time he hit her, she changed direction. She had cotton candy in her hair, and looked miserable.

“What took you guys so long?” Bill complained to his son. “I know your mom is lazy and walks slow.” Bill put the blame on his wife, even if he really didn’t believe she would doddle.

“Sorry, I hooked up with Gerald”

“Bro’s before Ho’s.” Bill offered a fist-bump to his son to let him know he had only been kidding about being upset. He offered one to Gerald who returned Bill’s bump with aplomb.

“We ran into those boys who didn’t get their monies worth at Madam Chang’s.” He pointed to his daughter’s hair. “They didn’t want to waste a frozen slushee, but it may take her a while to comb her hair in the morning.” Bill grinned.

“They sure like to tickle, don’t they kitten?”

Jamie pouted and nodded agreement.

“Greet your boyfriend, Gerald, and show him what a piggy you are.” Bill instructed his daughter.

Jamie walked over to Gerald with a sad face, trying to muster a pleasant demeanor. “Hello Sir, I am glad to see you again. I ate an entire foot long that my dad was kind enough to feed me, like a big fat pig.” She admitted, before turning her back to him and flipping her skirt up. The stick to the corn dog was pointing out between her ass cheeks. It had been shoved directly into her asshole only peeking out about 6 inches. She didn’t seem to be in too much distress, in part because she had worn a much fatter anal plug for over an hour only a short time ago.  “This is my piggy tail, to remind me what a fat pig I am, Sir.” She wiggled her butt before letting the flap fall.

They were at the very center of the Midway, but in a slightly isolated, covered eating area shared by a few food stands with only a few picnic tables. Jamie had not bothered to try to be discrete about flashing her ass to Gerald. Whatever had happened during her time alone with her dad, she was almost numbed by it.

Gerald wasn’t numbed. He was grinning from ear to ear, shaking his head in disbelief that the tattoo was real. He had only caught a brief glimpse, but he already knew what was on Wendy’s ass was the exact same design.

“Let me see your daughter flip that skirt up again?” A big redneck eating pulled pork called out from one of the other tables. He was covered in tattoos himself, sporting a full shaggy red beard.

“You didn’t see enough of it already?” Bill asked him with a smile. His rhetorical question making Wendy wonder if Jamie’s corn dog dare had been even worse than hers.

“Who gets tired of a pooper like hers?” he said while shoveling bits of pork into his mouth, a few flecks of pork falling into his beard.

“Her mom’s here, you want to see who she inherited that bubble butt from?” Bill’s words sliced through the girls like a knife. They had well rounded asses, but calling them bulbous or bubble butts was a trigger word.

Wendy wasn’t sure what had broken her daughter’s spirit so much in the last 20 minutes that she seemed so compliant yet depressed, but she didn’t like it. There was a “So, whatever?” to her attitude that had not been present for the last week. She just wanted to hug her daughter and give her comfort from the derisive laughter of the men.

She looked at her husband’s eyes for some sign that there was an ounce of kindness there. That there was a lesson being taught, but all she saw back was cruelty and uncaring feelings.

“Red Flag, Sir.” Wendy had to summon more courage than it had taken to do half of the perverse acts she performed tonight to say it. She had just reached a breaking point, and now that she said it, it was out there. The words “Red” and “Flag” hanging out in the air between them.

“Red Flag?” He asked to confirm she was serious.

“Yes Sir, Red Flag. When we agreed to this training, you gave us a safety valve if things weren’t going right.” She reminded him of a clause in “Bill’s Bill” the rather chaotic stream of consciousness collection of rules he had written for them a week ago.

He knew exactly what clause she was talking about. He had put it in there because he knew his wife would want some checks and balances to his authority before she agreed to it. They hadn’t had to use this clause, although they had family meetings at times, the girls had been troopers as far as accepting whatever discipline and humiliation the men could come up with.

(Excerpted from “Bill's Bill”  Chapter 9, Family Feud Book 2)

Red Flag:

As the Taylor women are by their very nature skeptical and not trusting of their betters, the women would be likely to question and potentially hesitate in carrying out their orders.

There were some lines scratched through explaining examples from the first day of their training where the girls seemed in doubt about going through with the training.

This section outlined an opportunity for males or females to call “Red Flag” for rare conditions, when they feel things have gone too far. Things will be backed down, people will cool off and within 72 hours a family meeting will be had to address it. If the females are doing this to get out of something that has already been resolved, then shall receive at the very least a correction, and more likely a judgment against them. Nothing was specified if the men needed to call a red flag and it turned out to be unnecessary.

“You are going to call red flag over showing your ass to this guy?” Bill asked his wife in disbelief. The man looked down at his BBQ as if to distance himself from the conversation.

Wendy’s objection seemed to come out of the blue to Bill. Chris and Jamie also seemed stunned.

After having Jamie ringed and tattooed, forced to perform virtually naked for strangers this seemed like the least reason to be calling a red flag. Bill had not told his daughter to stick her ass in his face, or use it to wipe his beard clean.

“No sir, I’ve shown my ass to strangers many times this past week, he can see.” She turned around to face away from him, and lifted her skirt, “Get a good look sir?” she waited for an answer, and when none was forthcoming she let her skirt down.

It was clear now to Jamie, that her Mother had reached a sort of breaking point and epiphany. The latest order to show her ass wasn’t at issue. It was something else, something more.

“Just calm down, calm down.” A bewildered Bill tried to sound patient and understanding.

“I am calm sir, but I want to call red flag.” She clearly did seem to have an elevated sense of urgency about her, although her voice remained calm, even submissive.

“Fine, Gerald. You fuck off for a while.” Bill gestured with a dismissive wave of his hand. Gerald didn’t hesitate to leave, darting out into the midway to look for his own family.

“Would you like to have the family meeting here in this little food court, Sir?” Wendy seemed a little calmer, now that she was being listened too.

“Seems like as good a place as any?” Bill looked at his wrist before realizing he wasn’t even wearing a watch. He hadn’t carried one in years, now that he had a cell phone. He checked the time on his phone. It was 11:30PM. The time had flown by, and this was probably the zenith of activity at the fair for tonight.

“Usually, you do them some place we can speak freely, and make us kneel in the nude, Sir.” Wendy was not sure why she was asking for that, but it seemed too casual where they were to have a formal family meeting.

“Is there some place, you have in mind?”

Wendy wanted to say home. She knew they had overstayed their welcome at Mikey’s gazebo and Madam Changs. She also knew with few exceptions, there weren’t many places behind the games and trailers they could hold a meeting.

“I don’t know. The arcade when we first came in seemed quiet. He might let us talk there. Some place it isn’t so busy?” Wendy winced looking over her shoulder at two girls about Jamie’s age getting into an intense argument. People were gathering in a circle around them, as they started to fight.

Wendy then noticed Uncle Creepy. The so-called security guard was sitting right across from her, staring at her. Had been there the entire time. He made no move to break up the fight happening just feet away.

“Some place where it is just the four of us would be best, Sir.”

“If this isn’t important, and you interrupt family fun night with nonsense, I am going to hang you by your tits in front of the haunted house!” Bill threatened.

“Sir” Wendy turned her attention back to Uncle Creepy. “Is there some place my family and I can go privately to discuss our discipline? Where my daughter and I can be kept naked, and it won’t bother anyone?” she asked him politely.

Uncle Creepy pointed silently.

They turned their head to see the entrance to a tunnel of love ride. The entrance a large pink heart where couples could board ornate gondolas and be transported through what apparently was some sort of sappy little ride on 2 feet of water. The ride looked closed.

“Good enough” Bill led his family over to the closed ride. Uncle Creepy pulled a ring of keys that seemed too large for his pocket, unlocked a small electrical box and powered up the ride without turning on all the lights overhead. He pointed to the first gondola and sent Wendy and her husband through followed by Jamie and her brother. Jamie still had the corn dog stick in her ass, so she had to sit sidesaddle in their boat.

“This better be worth it.” Bill demanded as they passed baroque statues of cupid, paintings and frescoes that were supposed to appear romantic. Teddy bears, roses, sunshine and marmalade. Bill didn’t see how this could work on anyone’s emotions.

The boat stopped about halfway through the ride, at what appeared to be a fake beach. Mannequin lovers were in an embrace, some having picnics. The scene appeared to be a tranquil but romantic get-away. It was obvious Creepy wanted them to get out here.

Stepping out of the boat Chris teased his sister, “Don’t fall in, Sis.” and rocked the boat with his foot as she stepped across to the platform without responding back to his teases.

“It reminds me of that ride at Disney World,” Chris said out loud. “It’s a small world.” There were teddy bears hanging from the roof on trapeze, and a small fountain in the center of the menagerie of disparate romantically themed objects.

“This seems like a good as place as any for a family meeting, there are some plastic benches here by the fountain.” Bill noticed.

“May we undress Sir? We don’t deserve to sit on chairs during family meetings. We should be exposed, and not at the same level as our betters.” Wendy asked while repeating the lessons her husband had instructed in their past meetings.

“First you want a family meeting because it’s too hard, and now you want to be stripped?” Bill sounded confused.

Wendy didn’t wait to be told to strip. She started to unfasten her suspenders and pull off her top. “I am not saying you should let us out of our obligations Sir. You’ve been more than fair with our expectations. It hasn’t been too hard, it has been hard”. She explained as she let her bare tits fall to her chest as she removed her shirt.

Her daughter was not sure what Wendy was talking about, but dutifully she too removed her top without being told.

“I agree that the family meetings and affirmations must be arranged this way for our own good. To separate us from the notion we are your equals and that we are entitled to be prideful and arrogant. I respectfully submit to you as the males of the Taylor household, as naked as the day I was born, and almost as hairless” she smiled pleasantly.

She had placed her corn dog on her folded skirt, and was kneeling with her hands behind her head. She had even taken off her shoes, so that all she had on was her frayed cat collar.

Jamie did the same as her mother, without argument.

Bill wasn’t sure why Wendy would call a family meeting about how harsh things were, and then orchestrate, without being told, her proper place at his feet. His curiosity was piqued. He had to admit this felt far less like an argument now that they had peace and quiet and the girls were taking a proper respectful place at their feet.

“If it pleases you both.” Wendy said graciously as if talking to a King at his court. “I would like to air my concerns about tonight in an open manner. Before I do so, may I ask that I be permitted to remove the corn dog stick from my daughter’s ass?” Wendy tried to get through her speech without stumbling.

“You may”

“Please Jamie, do you mind?” She had her daughter take a position putting her ass right before her mother’s face. Then using her teeth alone, she pulled the slender corn dog rod from her daughter’s pink asshole. Reminding her once again that they both had tattoos of WHORE on their asses.”

When she pulled out the stick with her teeth, she set it on her skirt next to her own almost completely eaten corn dog. Then she had her daughter be seated again at her father and brother’s feet.

“As you can see Sir, you have trained us well to be willing to suffer for your amusement, to shed our pride for your amusement, to clean and serve for your amusement.”

Bill nodded; his wife was telling him nothing he didn’t already know. Things had gone even better than even his wildest expectations and imaginings could have made him hope for and there was still at least a week to go of his wife and daughter's 'training'.

“We would not have asked or ordered you to do some of these things, but we accept that because you are dealing with females, and the female condition, you have had to expand, even rewrite some of the lessons. We began our exercise with you with the best of intentions. We wanted to change you, shame you into taking responsibility, taking authority for the decisions that were yours. We went overboard, and for that, Your daughter and I continue to pay.”

Bill wasn’t sure if his wife was doing a ramble, or some self-guided affirmation. These were the answers to questions he had asked her in the past when she was in her affirmations. He wanted her to get to the point. What was her concern?

“You have been strict, and you have actually taught me some things, some things I didn’t think I would learn from this Sir.” Wendy began constructively.

“You have made me accept and do things shamelessly, that in a million years I would never think I am capable of.” She gave another constructive comment.

“But tonight, when I watch at my daughter, just shrug when given an order to bare her pretty ass to a man who wants to see it, I am disappointed.”

Bill and Chris were still confused.

“Look at my pussy lips, please Sirs.” Wendy tugged at her reddened lips, so they could see where the alligator clips bit into her.

“Chris insisted I wear them, and not knowing if I had too or not, I asked two old men who didn’t even speak English to clip them on my lips.” Wendy hoped that didn’t sound more extreme than it had been. She was trying to make a point here and didn’t want to go down the wrong trail.

“So what you propose is better defined limits and boundaries?” Bill tried to paraphrase what he was hearing.

“That would be nice, although there are so many things you can’t anticipate until they come up. The things we’ve done tonight have been spontaneous, and I will admit in a strange way some of them were fun. There should be clear guidelines as to what is and isn’t required.” She admitted.

Bill wanted to point out that he had only had a night to write his rules, and even though he hadn’t revisited them, he had been very busy keeping them in line. He kept quiet instead, because that would sound like his excuses for his procrastination and he didn’t like to admit that was a crutch of his. So was his lack of planning. He had at times meant for things to just fall into place, and those had been some of the most extreme situations, the motel with Rahjid, the tattoo etc.

“You have at times not given us the proper motivations to serve. Tonight, we’ve been subjected to humiliations,  rented out to strangers, tattooed,  but without the reinforcement that this all serves a purpose. That there is some lesson at the end.”

Bill had just wanted a family fun night of some games, bets and dares. He wasn’t ready for heavy thinking right now. He seemed introspective. He looked at his son who was just watching the girls and apparently half paying attention. Bill wanted to point out that this had already been worked out, his wife’s  motivation to serve was her agreement. He kept that to himself, because he understood what she was saying to a point. That they had begun this training with the best of intentions, but they needed some attitude adjustments and motivations in between to keep them going.

“It seems no matter what we do, it isn’t enough and you don’t seem to care. Then when I see Jamie like a robot lifting her skirt for a stranger, without concern, I see that it saps her of the education this is supposed to be providing us.”

Bill was about to get defensive. He had given her many looks of praise for a job well done tonight. “So what is the solution?” He asked instead, choosing his words more carefully than he would have a week earlier.

“You are the men, I can only bring to your attention that your leadership style rolls downhill, and rubs off on how we respond to your orders.”

Bill wanted time to think about this. “Changes have to be made, obviously.” The men seemed to agree about that.

Jamie was also confused. She had just been trying to be a good sport about their cum-uppance. Some of her decisions that made sense at the time, like the tattoo and piercings she was having remorse about, but she was trying to remain positive, and look ahead as opposed to hang on to regrets. This was the advice she had read about or heard in her life. She had been such a good girl, always coloring in the lines and doing what was expected, that she had never done anything truly regrettable. It was much easier to follow the advice, when you didn't need it, she realized.

She had also quietly been ignoring the strange signals her body had been giving her all night. Even painful humiliating things that should disgust her, had made her wet. She still felt disgusted by them, but her pussy ached and dripped at uncomfortable times whether she liked it or not. Her nipples felt so pronounced and stiff, that at times other parts of her body got stiff, mostly the bottom of her feet in some sort of sympathetic reaction to her condition. She decided that given that her physical reactions could be influencing her emotional and logical ones, to defer to her mother on this matter. That would be safer, after all her mom had her back and would want what is best for her. She told herself that while quieting the voice that told her to be more independent and not let her mom coddle her.

“I don’t like to admit this, but the affirmations you give us, the ones where you question our motivations and make us think about what we are doing have helped fuel my resolve to accept the rules and the situation.” Wendy observed out loud. “It kind of acts like our own cheer squad. Motivating us to plow through what comes our way.”

Chris giggled, “So you like it when I make you stand up and call yourself a whore?”

Wendy smiled back at him casually, “I just said I don’t like to admit it, Sir” leaving the half-serious comment out there for a moment before clarifying her meaning. “I mean it isn’t the most pleasant experience. Heaven knows, you’ve enough video of the two of us admitting our shortcomings, asking for correction, accepting your authority in affirmations to bury me not only with my family, but anyone who happens to watch our Taylor home movies.”

Bill nodded as if he was starting to understand.

“It is just that as difficult as saying what we are, and what we are going to do, and what we are to you.” Wendy paused to think about her word choice. “Doing it is even harder. I would ask that between important family events, as often as you can, you consider doing formal affirmations, or at the very least shortened informal ones.”

Jamie wasn’t sure she liked that idea. It was sometimes easier to do things her father or brother ordered her to do, if they didn’t make her think too hard. That may have been her Mom’s point.

Bill asked if his wife wanted an affirmation right now.

“I need one to calm me, Sir.” Wendy admitted “I’ve started to get stressed out tonight. So many things have happened that it feels like several of my chapters of my life have happened in just a few short hours.” She grinned at her metaphor. “Even so, I must ask that you wait until after the family meeting, because I have more to bring up, and the attitude adjustment of the affirmations may diffuse my point, Sir.”

Bill bade his wife to continue with a wave of his hand.

“The other issue is with limits. I don’t know where the line is. If Chris tells me to put alligator clips on my pussy lips, or the lips on my face, or my eyelids, I don’t know where I can politely decline, Sir.” She was addressing them both even though she used the singular “Sir”.

Bill looked at his son appraisingly as if he were impressed “You had her put alligator clips on her eyelids, Son?”

Chris’s modest face suggested his mom was exaggerating her latest concern. “It wasn’t on her eyelids, just her pussy lips.”

“That is my point exactly, Sir.” She said to her son. “Where you would draw the line, where your father would draw the line, where Jamie and I would draw it, we aren’t on the same page. Every day I feel like I am not even on the same page with the Wendy of a week ago.” She said introspectively.

Chris grinned at his mother in response, “I didn’t know you had a line, you dirty slut.”

His jab wounded her ego more than usual. He called her names all the time. Lately she had been shrugging and absorbing it, even accepting that she must be one. At formal family meetings she couldn’t be punished for not following protocol, but she did so anyway. “Thank you Sir, for reminding me I am a dirty slut, and for your guidance in keeping me in line.” It had become easier to show deference to her son, but at times like this it really did make her feel like a ‘dirty slut’ to admit to him she was one.

Bill took his wife’s words as a sign that Wendy wanted her affirmation. He was about to order his sluts to stand up and give them one. The isolated grotto inside the tunnel of love was starting to get on his nerves and he wanted to continue his dares.

His wife hadn’t made all of her points yet and asked once again for a temporary delay from the affirmations. She laid out for him in summary the issues at hand in the same logical outline that Chris had done about his sister’s tattoo.

1. The sluts need affirmations more regular as part of routine to reinforce their position and not become automatons carrying out orders without thinking.
   
   
2. There should be clearly drawn limits and boundaries. The “gold stars” was supposed to act as some sort of carrot on a stick to motivate the girls to perform well. That it was doing well.
   
   It was also supposed to be a check and balance to the authority of the men. Things had become muddled on what was expected and required and what wasn’t required but if the girls were willing to stretch and reach for a star they could choose too. The idea being if both trainer and trainee agreed on the dare or order that was above and beyond simple expectations there had been an opportunity for a common sense objection and a polite decline of getting the star. 

Wendy used an example that if Eyelids were off limits to torture, and she was fool enough or greedy enough  for a star to agree to allow it to happen, and her trainer wanted it, then that was supposed to be the checks and balances. Instead, the girls were getting caught up in the excitement and competition and just saying “Yes” to everything.

Bill pointed out he could not be responsible for his slut’s poor judgment.

“You are right Sir, but at the same time, had there been clearly established rules that certain things were off limits, we would never have been asked to make a choice we shouldn’t have been permitted to make.

Wendy could tell Bill was a little lost by her latest point. She didn’t want to admit that she was talking in part about the idea that Chris could come across reckless or at least obstinate. That if he made her suck Gerald’s dick, how long before he made his Sister?

“There are so many possible uses for you, some of which I don’t know until I am right in the middle of things.”

Wendy bit her tongue. She had meant to bring up that some of the poor planning the men had done in the name of “Being spontaneous” had left her feeling without structure, without a plan. She had also meant to bring up her own internal concerns. There were simply so many, how she felt about the piercings and tattoos for her and her daughter being one of a dozen thoughts; The nagging suspicion that she was growing to accept humiliation and male dominance instead of just putting up with it for the sport of the guys. She decided it may only serve to confuse the issues at hand.

“One way we could change things is give you stars in increments of ten. If you get ten points, you get one star. “Bill was struggling to think of a panacea that would address all the issues. “This way I could dole out points as smaller rewards in recognition that you are doing a good job.” Bill’s tone implied that he felt they were doing well and it was his roundabout way of showing praise for his wife and daughter.

“It could also be as incentive to try a little harder. Once we have more clear limits, if you will go over, I can give you one point to do a little bit, or two points to do a lot over the line.” Chris liked that plan. “What if we call them letters. If you can spell WHORE, you get a star.  That is basically five points.”

“That is a great idea, Chris!” Bill nodded in agreement, feeling creative with his wife and daughter’s fate for the next week in his hands. “We could make it so each letter relates to a different type of submissive virtue or act. Something like a W stands for working, like when Jamie works for her brother to earn him money and a H stands for humiliation dares, and an O is for obedience ones where you demonstrate who has authority over you.”

“I think I see your point, Dad.” Chris’s creative juices were flowing. Each of the letters in the name is a category of humiliation. Anytime they can completely spell the word “WHORE” they can trade it for one star, but if they have a bunch of W’s and not enough O’s they’ll have to be willing to work on those other things.”

Jamie decided to ask a question. “Can we still just earn stars the normal way, Sirs?” She was listening intently, trying to hide the fact that it felt everyone’s eyes were on her engorged puffy nipples and that they were causing her to have goose bumps up and down her back.

“Yes, Yes. This is in addition to your normal way of earning stars.”  He had made an executive decision. “Do we need to work out all the details tonight?” he asked his wife thoughtfully.

She was surprised he was so willing to acknowledge that there had been a problem with his plan, and that it should be adjusted. Her face was joyful, “Oh yes Sir, I think we can muddle through, as long as it is understood we’ll look to the men to amend and clarify the rules?”

“Good, I’ve got an idea what the “R” and the “E” are going to stand for, but I don’t want to write it all down, and I forgot to bring a marker or else I’d write my thoughts on your back.”

“Yes Sir” Wendy could only agree with her husband, sounding serious but secretly pleased she hadn’t created a huge stink about nothing. She was worried Bill would see the red flag family meeting as a challenge to his authority. This was an issue that had been building up inside her for a while.
She wanted limits, not just for Jamie but also for herself. It was much easier to justify them being for Jamie, her feeling as a mother made it easier for her to accept hardships if it meant protecting her daughter. At the same time, she had been quiet many times when she felt maybe they were being expected to do more than they should be. She knew the fair was supposed to ‘push’ her buttons, after all this was a chance to catch up on ten stars if they would accommodate the men as much as possible.

She had a good feeling overall that Bill and Chris would take to heart her pleadings for clarity to the rules. She didn’t really need the affirmation to carry her through to the next dare, but Bill decided to end the family meeting with one anyway.

“Sluts, stand up and get in inspection position one.” Bill announced and his daughter and wife dutifully stood naked bent at the knees. Their practiced position with hands pulling apart their now tattooed ass cheeks behind their backs.

“Do you think we want to see your sour faces, or your asses?” Bill asked the sluts facing him.

In response, they both turned around to face away and display their well-rounded and inked ass cheeks. “Our asses, Sir?”

“Wendy, why do you think that is?”

“Because we are your sluts Sir, and I know, given the choice to seeing my face over my ass, you’d pick the latter.”

Bill actually loved Wendy’s beautiful face. Her high cheekbones, smoldering eyes, expressive lips… she was quite a woman, the picture of health and beauty for a woman at this point in her life. He just felt stroking her ego would make her prideful and his goal was to keep her feeling submissive, desiring his approval. His plan was working on her little by little even if he didn’t have any way to confirm it.

“Do either of my little toys have anything else they want to say in our family meeting, before we begin our affirmations?”

They were both quiet. Bill reached out a foot to kick Wendy in the ass softly.

“No sir, I said everything I wanted to say. I wasn’t sure if my trainers or daughter had anything more to say?”

Jamie took that as a sign it was her turn. “I agree with what my Mom said tonight in every respect. I am so sorry that my behavior tonight seemed to trigger this family meeting. I didn’t realize I was getting robotic in my responses. I’ve just had so much on my mind, I may be over stimulated.”

Chris added with a coy smile, “You have so much on that clit of yours, that you may be over stimulated?”

“That too, Sir.” Jamie realized her playful and immediate answer was further evidence of one of her mom’s points tonight. She was changed by this experience. It would have embarrassed her to no end to have to admit she had stimulation from her clit, and here she was acknowledging it as if it were a zit before prom, a funny little irony.

“I see Mom’s point about leveling things out. I probably come off like a hard ass” Chris spoke up. “That is because I don’t know how I am seen. Sometimes you seem to make me feel like this walking joke, and take my humor seriously. I’ve got to work on taking your training more seriously when I should.”

“No Sir” Wendy answered without a question being put to her. “We have to work on making you feel less like a walking joke. You are as much my owner as my husband is for my training. I’ve not given you that equal respect because of a bias for Bill being my husband and older than you. I am sorry if I made you feel like I didn’t take you seriously Sir. You should be who you are, and I need to work on accepting you for that.”

Chris didn’t have anything to say in response to his mom’s heartfelt words. Wendy couldn’t see his face, but she liked to picture him looking appreciative to what she had to say by his silence.

“You are my pimp, Sir.” Jamie added to her mom’s feelings. “It isn’t easy for me to admit that you get to pick who I date, even with the tattoo on my ass, Sir.” Jamie choked a little before continuing, “Once again, I agree with my mom, the fault lies with us for giving you the impression we aren’t taking your orders seriously.”

Chris hadn’t meant it exactly like they were taking it. He chose that moment to ask his dad, “I’d like to start pimping out Mom, too.”

Bill wished he could see his wife’s face on that bombshell. Chris wasn’t privy to what happened at Rahjids or what was happening at her work every day. If he could see her face, it would have looked like the picture of panic that one finds in the dictionary when looking up the word “Panic”.

“I didn’t have a problem with you sending Jamie out, because that left Wendy home to pamper and amuse us. Do you even know any older guys who would want to rent her?” Bill asked as if they were discussing what to do with an old car in their driveway.

“Gerald said he’d like to take Mom out some times as a change of pace.”

“That would be hilarious!” Bill slapped his knee. “Wendy, did I just see your butthole pucker?” he asked curiously when his laughter subsided.

“Yes Sir, you may have. I was present when Gerald expressed an interest in dating me tonight.” She tried to sound formal in her response, considering this was an affirmation. Her posture was always good, but she tried to carry herself in an almost military like manner when answering the affirmations.

“We’ll work out a schedule, as a way to earn their “W”, but so that we always have a plaything at hand. Is that fair?” Bill asked his son.

“I dunno Dad, some guys may want to go on double dates.”

“Two guys want to take both of them out?” Bill asked.

Chris smiled, “No, one guy rent them both out together”

They laughed and Bill conceded that he was going to think tonight about some safety precautions for these dates. He promised he would also try to brainstorm with his son about how they could work out a reasonable schedule, and a more clear ‘rental agreement’ than Bill’s ‘Seven Rules for Dating His Teenage Daughter” he liked to tell Chris’s friends right before their date.

“Cunt, how do you feel about Chris renting you out?” Bill asked.

“Which cunt are you asking, Sir?” Wendy said after an embarrassing pause which in a roundabout way admitted both her and her daughter were cunts.

“You whore; I already know how Jamie feels about it.” Bill used his foot to prod her ass playfully, causing her to flinch a little at the tap of his foot.

“You said it Sir, the sign on my ass says I am a whore. Jamie and I are in this together. It is only fair that I have to do the same unpleasant work that she does, and earn my keep.” Neglecting to mention her salary was the only thing paying all the bills already.

“Ehnnnt” Bill made a sound like the buzzer on a game show that gives the wrong answer. “Answer a simple question; do you like being your son’s whore?”

Wendy’s asshole puckered.

Bill and Chris laughed.

“I don’t like being a whore, but I am trying to be a good one for you both, Sir.” Wendy answered more diplomatically.

“Ehnnnt, strike two!” from a sitting position, Bill extended his knee to kick Wendy in the ass softly. “The next one is pushing you back into the water. I’ll ask one more time. Do you like being your Son’s whore, and I better hear a good answer.”

“I haven’t been his whore long enough to form an opinion, but no sir, I don’t like being his whore.”

Bill was satisfied with that answer. He may have been secretly hoping she would say she liked it,  but he much preferred honest answers. He much preferred the simplicity of her final answer to the other two.

“If you don’t like it, why did you get a tattoo that says you are one?” Bill folded his arms.

“I had no choice in the tattoo design. It was chosen by my son, Sir.” Wendy thought for a moment before continuing “My only choice was whether to get it or not, not only for the stars, but to prove my commitment to seeing this through.” She added that last part to clarify she had been involved in making the decision and wasn’t a helpless victim.

“It’s going to be on that big ass after your time is up, how do you feel about that, Cunt?”

“I can’t say for sure, Sir.” at first her answer being as non-committal as the one about being her son’s whore. “My hope is that it will serve to remind me of the lessons I learned, the fears I faced so that I never repeat the mistakes that led to my training, Sir. I’ll be your whore in bed for the rest of our marriage, hopefully it will be for your eyes only.”

“What about bathing suits?” Bill asked pointedly.

“Don’t remind me, Sir.” Wendy’s asshole did not pucker, but she shivered a little, causing her ass to jiggle. Her reaction still amusing the Taylor men watching her hold her ass open naked.

“Jamie, are you embarrassed to stand there pulling apart your fart machine and piss faucet for me and Dad?” Chris took over the affirmations, focusing on his sister.

“Yes Sir, you literally made me hold myself open and fart in front of you so you can watch how it opens and closes.” Remembering one of his twisted requirements earlier in the week.

“You told me when you were little that girls don’t fart!” Chris smirked.

“I am sorry for being so deceptive, Sir. It is the female’s nature to paint her face, wear padded bras, and deceive about everything from our smell to our height, in how we do our perfume, and wear our heels. Would it amuse you to watch me fart again?” Jamie offered but hoped he wouldn’t take her up on it.

“Gross, no.” Chris covered his nose as if she already had. “Did you mind showing that redneck at the bbq table your painted ass tonight?”

“No Sir, I apologize about that. I’ve grown so used to displaying myself before my betters, that I failed to register the appropriate level of humiliation in the disgusting act. I am becoming more of an extroverted slut, than a repentant one, Sir.”

“Should I make you wear a burka, cover your body from head to foot, so you can’t get the attention you seem to crave?” Chris asked her.

“If you don’t allow me to get complacent and remind me of how naughty my behavior is, I am sure the way you are training me now will continue to work as it has all week, Sir.” She answered him, but added “The choice of what to wear isn’t mine to make. I wear what I am instructed.”

“Why don’t you get that choice, twat?” Chris felt it was his turn to kick at his sister from where he was sitting. He used the tip of his foot to wedge into the back of her knees, to make it slightly more difficult for her to stand up straight.

Jamie tolerated her knees being pushed in from behind to give her answer. “I am a dumb cunt, who only dresses herself for selfish reasons. When it suits me, I dress in cute outfits to get what I want from men, Sir. It isn’t showing them I am a slut or being generous. It is showing them just enough to interest them, but denying men to see me as I truly am that gave me power over them. For as long as I am in training, I defer to the men of the house to make better choices for me.”

“Good answer, cunt.” Chris was smiling as he said it.

“Thank you, Sir.” Jamie’s answer was unexpectedly playful after the more serious answers she gave, the way a student sounds after receiving praise on their test from the teacher.

Bill took back over, “Do you feel like a slimy little worm, who must kiss our asses now, or do we need to keep doing the affirmations, Bitch?” He prompted his wife.

“If you want to continue the affirmations, it helps give me perspective Sir, and I appreciate you spending our fair time to adjust our attitude. Thank you for your time and patience, Sir.” Wendy meant it, even though it was difficult to sound so overjoyed at being called a bitch and a cunt.

“I want to get going, so we can kick your ass with some dares.” Bill admitted. “It’s family fun night, who is ready to get out of here, and have some fun?”

The group answered in a low cheer. They had been talking in hushed voices since they got into the empty ride.

“That was pathetic. Do you cunts want us to have fun playing with you and teasing you?” he asked like a football coach trying to energize his team at the second half.

“Yes Sir!” Wendy and Jamie sounded energized.

“Are you sluts going to give 110% of your ass, tits, and twats, so that the two of us can laugh at you?” Bill was trying to get the energy going.

“Yes Sir!” Wendy and Jamie answered. Wendy was instantly reminded that she had made it a practice in teleconferences when people used the phrase “Give 110%” to make them feel like assholes who just didn’t understand what 100% of effort was. “If you give 110%, you are just underestimating yourself. That IS your 100% and that is all anyone can expect.” She had said only weeks before to some executive who had the misfortune to use that term on one of her productivity calls. She didn’t think now was the time to explain that.

Bill was done with his pep talk. He ordered the sluts to dress so they could get out of the tunnel of love. “Be thankful you get to wear those cum-stained rags!” He reminded them.

As he did, he turned and saw Uncle Creepy, who had apparently been standing behind them the entire time. They had come to the tunnel’s grotto two to a boat.  “How IN THE FUCK did you get there?” Bill asked with a surprised but amused expression of the quiet, odd man who had attached himself to the family's fun.

There was no answer. Uncle Creepy just stood there impassively. There was no telling how long he had stood there innocuously observing the family meeting and the girl's affirmations.

“You silent motherfucker.” Chris said aloud with a kind of reverence for Uncle Creepy.

Bill didn’t expect anything less from him. He just smiled at the strange, quiet man, as he directed his wife and Jamie to carry their Corn dog sticks with them and ‘hurry their asses up.

Chris whispered to his dad “You’ve got to tell me what exactly happened while you walked Jamie around the fair?”

Bill smiled conspiratorially and whispered back, “I was wondering the same thing about you and your mom”, as they followed Uncle Creepy out a side door that led out of the ride.

The Family Feud III

Chapter Thirteen
“The Back Door Tunnel of Family Love”

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 26
JAMIE: 29

As they exited the back door of the ride, Chris made the obligatory “I've always wanted to come out the backdoor of love.” Pinching his mom's butt at his double entendre.

“You girls want frozen bananas next?” Bill grinned as he asked an obviously rhetorical question.

“Thank you Sir, I think I am full from the generous corn dog you provided.” Wendy smiled knowing he was hinting they could repeat the dare with a frozen banana dipped in chocolate. She realized had it not been for the tight skirts they had pressing against the corn dog, they surely would have fell. Even with the clenching exercises her son had made her do and her natural ‘assets’ of a shapely ass, holding the corn dog would have been impossible. It gave her cold chills to think about the chocolate on the frozen banana melting, oozing down her ass and becoming slippery.

“You won the dare, so you get to make up a third choice for our next dare. It has to be interesting.” Bill grinned triumphantly like a man holding all the aces in the deck.

“Respectfully, I wanted to ask, wouldn’t I just vote for the choice I picked, Sir?” Wendy was a little confused by their poorly planned game. It didn’t surprise her that they were making up the rules as they went, they were getting much better about it. It seemed to her that if she could make up a dare AND choose one, she’d automatically choose the one she made up. She was noticing they were getting better at anticipating the loopholes that seemed so obvious to her. She was also noticing she was able to be less critical about their mistakes, seeing things from their perspective in practice. It must be difficult to come up with games and dares on the fly, she thought to herself.

“One of the things we have to give out letters for, is good ideas and catching mistakes like that.” Bill tapped his son on the shoulder to ask him to remember that. “Good job, Wendy. I guess so. Your little cunt of a daughter would pick the same dare as you suggested, and our two good choices wouldn’t get used.” Bill conceded to his wife.

“How about I get to pick the dare from two of them. One you make up and one my son makes up. That seems fair, since I won the last contest and all, Sir?” Wendy asked trying to be helpful.

“There you go trying to keep us organized. Don’t push it.” He conferred with his son quietly before turning back to her. “That does however sound like a good way to do it.” He grinned, quietly recognizing that she did have a point.

They walked through the midway. Wendy couldn’t help but get a nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach. The guys were quiet, and she felt more nervous than usual. It didn’t help that every step without panties reminded her just how exposed she would be if she bent over. The feel of her sore pussy lips against the fabric of the dress touching nothing else but night air.

“I think we may have only time for one dare, it’s a school night and all.” Bill told the family, noting that Uncle Creepy was keeping pace with them no matter how brusquely he urged them forward.

“Awww Dad, I sleep through the first three periods anyway.” Chris was half kidding.

“Don’t worry about me, Sir. I know we haven’t done a lot of games tonight. I am sure we can make it through at least two.” Jamie, recently re-energized from her affirmations and getting a second wind of overall positivity, tried to sound charitable and understanding. She also found it helped to hide that sinking feeling in her stomach that they were about to face some difficult and challenging dares towards the end of the night. She hated sounding like the straight A student who tells the teacher she wants to do the extra-credit homework over spring break, but she really did want those gold stars. She’d just have to suck it up in the morning and try to stay awake.

Bill nodded in agreement, but took note that Wendy had not said anything about how it would be for her in the morning. He assumed she’d “give it her college try”. He really disliked how Wendy could stay positive some times and use that saccharine sweet motto. She had not said it in a couple days, but used to say it a lot. Especially to him before the training began. It felt like a slap in the face since he hadn’t attended college to be told, “See if you can find a job today. Give it the old college try”. It was just such an unfortunate turn of phrase.

He disliked being so petty inside. Seeing his wife walking behind him, brought down a peg felt good. He kept telling himself despite her recent caring and generous, submissive attitude she was really a bitch inside. That she had rubbed his nose in her success, her beauty. That his friends laughed at him, because he had tried for a long time to find a job, while she met with nothing but success. He pushed those thoughts back down to the dark place inside himself where he kept them, and focused on thinking about what dare he wanted most. There were so many and so little time to do them all.

Chris stopped the family in front of one of the game booths. There were dozens of small fishbowls with festively colored water and goldfish in them. People were plinking dimes into the bowls from behind a wooden post in order to win the pets for themselves or their children.

“Okay, I think my dare is going to be Goldfish.” Chris announced his choice of game first. “This is going to be a fun game. You have to pick one of us to be your champion. You can even both pick the same person. Dad and I will take 10 dimes each. We’ll toss them in to the colored water, and see who wins the most goldfish.”

“There has to be a catch, Sir?” Jamie said skeptically.

“You know me too well, dear Sister!” Chris took a whiff of her scent for comedic affect and added, “Since you smell like fish already, you will hold the winning goldfish to the very end of the game in your open mouth hole. If you run out of space, you can pick which other hole they can fit in.”

“Gross!!” Jamie scrunched her nose instinctively and added a “Sir” on the end when she realized she had made a face.

“Hey, this is a great dare. Frat boys like BRAD, eat goldfish all the time in their sororities!” Chris teased his sister about his friend Gerald’s older brother that she obviously had a crush on.

Jamie fought the urge to correct her brother and say it was a fraternity. She even pinched herself to keep from saying something.

Bill could see neither Wendy nor Jamie wanted to do Chris’s gross-out dare. This is why he was happy to go second in offering the choice. “I am sorry if we can’t come up with dares to suit your seven deadly sins, and female shortcomings!” Bill said mocking how his wife’s often dramatic way of phrasing her own shortcomings.

“We’ve had gluttony, that corn dog you pigs chowed down on. We have addressed your vanity by painting you up pretty and making you dance around for entertainment. I don’t know what the other sins are off the top of my head, but I think mine will address some of them.” He said with a vague generalization, which had sounded more intelligent in his head before he said it.

The girls’ body language said he had their full attention. He was a little surprised there was not at least a small tell in how they reacted to his last statement that they could see he was making it up as he went. He decided maybe the affirmations did serve more of a purpose than he realized.

“You are even going to get panties for this dare. We’ll go on a little shopping spree in one of the shops, and pick you out something.”

This condition surprised Wendy and Jamie. They had accepted they would be going “commando” (without panties) anytime they were permitted to wear clothes. It seemed like one of the cornerstones of establishing the men’s control over their clothing. The only exception having been the few times they could wear the ones that had been used to gag them, and even then they were stained with saliva and dried cum.

“You will pretend to start a knock-down, drag-out fight between you two. The panties are for wedgies. I want you to really pull them up as hard as you can. This had better be a tit grabbing, hair pulling, name-calling catfight!”  Bill said to his stunned wife and daughter.

“Alright, Dad!” Chris cheered his dad, hoping to see his sister and mom get down and dirty on the ground.

“What if we get kicked out of the fair for fighting?”

“Uncle Creepy is Security.” Bill pointed a thumb to the tall man standing dumbfounded behind him. “You saw a fight break out right where we were standing earlier. People surrounded them and cheered them on!”

Wendy was not convinced this was a good idea. She didn’t want to do the goldfish dare, but it was sounding better in comparison (only). “You want me to kick my daughter’s ass, Sir?” she asked incredulously.

“As if!” Jamie put her hands on her hips, as if to suggest that would be easier said than done.

“Not really. I want you to pull off each other’s clothes. The first girl to be fully stripped and pinned down loses. You can both stop fighting then.”

“I’ll give the loser an extra star for continuing to follow around the winner for ten minutes trying to goad her on, completely undressed. You have to act furious, like you want to keep fighting.”

“Yeah, All trailer park and scrappy!” Chris rubbed his hands together like an evil genius. He was enjoying this. To him either dare sounded good.

“What does the winner of these dares get?” Jamie asked. She was not sure what her mom would pick for them, or what she would pick if it were up to her. Both dares sounded just heinous and wrong to her, but she was trying to keep an open mind. After all, she knew going into the fair that the expectations were going to be heinous and wrong. They would be doing them, because of all the hideous things they had put the guys through in the first place when she and her mom had control over them.

“She gets first pick of the next dare after that, which could be the very last of the night. She gets consideration in the ten star jackpot, and she gets a “Get out of Jail Free” card.”

They both looked confused about the last award. “It’s going to be in the new rules. You can use it to counter-act one correction. It nullifies one of the cards in the fishbowl and forgives your offense. If you use it, we take the card out of the bowl forever!” Bill smiled at his ingenuity.

Chris and he had a discussion when they were alone at the beer tent. They both agreed that while the stars as an overall prize was a good incentive they needed to expound upon Chris’s earlier idea about “Rice-A-Roni” prizes. The little gift that is provided in game shows that are more immediate and visceral. They could be small tokens or awards in the grand scheme of things, but they could serve as good motivators to get the girls to put that extra effort behind a game. Bill and Chris had really enjoyed their informal planning session together.

Chris had told his dad that at Christmas when he got a single high dollar prize, it was great. However, it wasn’t as good as when his Mom had given him dozens of simple little gifts. They cost less, but something about the fact it was “more things” had influenced him to judge that Christmas as the best Christmas ever. This seemed like a good tactic towards motivating the girls, without really giving them anything of consequence. Watching them do the dares was priceless, but watching them motivated to do the dares and running their asses off, nervously sweating on whether they did a good job was double priceless.

Bill didn't tell him that he had been the one in favor of a single high dollar gift. He chose to just acknowledge his son’s words back at the beer tent and try to come up with a way to use this clever tactic as a carrot to dangle before the girls to see them scurry and sweat to earn it. He reflected on that while his son tried to talk the girls in vain into the goldfish dare.

“Can I just add for your consideration,” Chris told the girls, “that under my dare, it’s possible we miss with every dime. In Dad’s you are definitely going home bruised and banged up.”

Wendy didn’t want to hurt Jamie, but the two of them had endured a great deal of pain at the hands of the guys this week. There wasn’t much she was going to do in a fight that would physically hurt much worse than the pain they had endured already.

Wendy had done a little kickboxing classes as part of her physical fitness regime in the past, but she really had never raised her fist to anyone in anger for as long as she could remember. The idea of hitting her daughter in a play fight really sounded surreal to her. It didn’t sound as bad as putting goldfish into her mouth, but it didn’t sound like her.

Jamie’s elfin face was smiling and almost taunting her, upturned button nose and eyes gleaming with a friendly challenge to ‘bring it on’. Hands on hips, it was obvious that her daughter was just as athletic as she was and had the energy for a physical dare. She could sense Jamie was up for the fighting dare and would try to give as good as she got from her mom in the exchange of blows.

“C’mon mom, I won’t hold your old age against you, when I hold you down and wedgie you.” Jamie’s taunt was a friendly jab, not a mean spirited promise.

“Oh yeah? Well, you are going down sister!” Wendy didn’t sound entirely confident, but she returned the cute barb in kind. “I’ve made my decision Sir, we’ll do the fight.”

Chris could tell his Mom and Jamie didn’t want to fight, or get banged up. They had endured bruises, lashes, and slaps all week though. “You DO realize that one of you has to be stripped completely for the fight to end. That means the other will probably be half undressed?” Chris warned them.

“I know this, Sir.” Wendy acknowledged. It was her choice and not her daughter’s to make but she felt Jamie was in agreement with her when she said, “We saw two girls rip each other’s top off earlier tonight in a fight. We’ll have to grin and bear it, I apologize Sir, but the goldfish dare just scares the crap out of me.” She said honestly.

Chris seemed disappointed his dare wasn’t chosen. He knew it probably grossed them out, but it didn’t stop him from wanting to see the two of them squirm with goldfish in their open mouths. “First rule of fight club, is don’t talk about fight club.” He told his mom and sister.

They didn’t get his reference to the film of the same name. Wendy just smiled politely and nodded as they were guided towards a kiosk that sold used DVDs, Sham-wows, sunglasses, and clothes. The trashy kind of clothes that one can only find at the fair. As luck or fate would have it, there was a basket of panties marked “Slightly irregular 3 for a dollar”.

“You will present your panties when you are done with the fight to Uncle Creepy” Bill informed the women as he started scanning through the panties for some suitable ones. Wendy wasn’t as concerned about what he would do with their panties. She was already wearing clothes he probably did all manner of unholy and disgusting things to that she didn’t want to think about. She was more concerned that this dare would involve them being naked at the end, and this time in the most populated and well-lit part of the fair.

Even with that condition, she still thought it was better than the goldfish dare.

They had themed ones, “Hunchback of Notre Dame” a Disney film, but in adult size. They had ones that said, “If you can see this, it’s your lucky day.” but in children’s sizes. It was obvious these were the kind of panties that no one had any good reason to buy.

Except of course tonight, since they would be worn for giving the girls another layer to be yanked off during the fight and to hopefully wedgie each other. Pulling them hard up out of their skirt, to cause each other pain.

The Taylor men sifted through the panties with pictures of cherries, or Barney on them looking for just the right size and choice.

Wendy whispered to her daughter, “Are you really ready to fight me?” she was feeling nervous. She had grown accustomed to a certain level of nervousness tonight, but it was time once again for her butterflies to remind her just what she was doing, where she was, and who with.

Jamie seemed confident. “It can’t be too bad. I mean, I’ve never been in a fight, but wrestling is all fake. We’ll just sort of do it like that.” She wanted to wing it, put on a good show and make her dad and brother happy. That in turn would make her happy to get her stars.

“You think they’ll pick the right size panties?” Wendy whispered in reply.

“Not a chance.” Was Jamie’s amused response.

They hadn’t done a terrible job approximating the right sizes of the girls. They held up a pair of “Scratch and Sniff” panties with the scent printed (hopefully by accident) on the back of the panties in Wendy’s size. The ones for Jamie read “Wetter is better” and had a picture of what may have been the children’s doll Strawberry Shortcake sliding down a water slide.

The third pair displayed a dog with a bone, and the words “lick, don’t bite” underneath. “This one is just in case we need another pair”. Bill explained pragmatically. It was three for a dollar, and he wasn’t going to waste money just getting two.

The men paid, and the girls slid their panties on right in the kiosk. A woman watched the two of them do it and Wendy kidded, “It’s funny how you can get up in the morning, go all day without them, and realize you weren’t wearing them hours later, Ma’am.”

They were marched into an area of the busy midway that seemed relatively free of buckets, wooden boards, walls, and things they could trip over and bang their heads on while they fought. Both girls felt an increasing fear of having to suddenly be aggressive with each other. They didn’t have any ill-feelings towards each other, their competitiveness with each other had always been friendly. Trying to summon the feelings to fight each other, was harder than it sounded.

Chris ordered them to “Go to it” and stepped back with his dad and Uncle creepy, the three men watching from a safe distance.

“You whore, you have my panties on!” Wendy said loudly in the most unconvincing first line of a fight ever.

“Nuh-uh, these are mine. My Dad just paid for them. You were right there with me!” Jamie’s loud response just as cheesy as her mothers had been.

No one stopped. People just walked past the two of them as they attempted to set the tone for their scuffle. It is possible no one heard them, or that hearing two girls feud over something the other owned was so common at the fair that no one thought much of it.

“Well girl! I am going to show you they are mine!” Wendy yelled a little louder, hoping that there would be a ring of people forming around them. Bill expected they provide entertainment and a spectacle, and she was going to give it her patented ‘college try’. Try as she might, the ring of spectators wasn’t happening, despite them being surrounded by people who must have clearly saw the two girls facing off against each other.

Bill waved his hand as if to say, “Just start, already.”

Wendy wasn’t sure whether to throw a punch, a kick, or what to do. Her instinct was to reach out and slap her daughter in the face. Jamie put up her hands defensively and slapped back. The two of them were quickly locked in a slap battle.

It seemed very epic to the Taylor girls, each getting stingers across their face. Aside from one guy stopping briefly to snap a picture on his cell phone, and one or two people who paused, no one paid this kerfuffle any mind.

Bill decided after three minutes of watching the pathetic slap fight, to put an end to it. They had managed to tug each other’s skirt waistband and jerk their half-shirts down past their shoulder, but they had proven neither was capable of hurting the other. They were both actually smiling at the end of the fight at each other.

“I didn’t say pillow fight, like you are at a sleep over” Bill expressed his disappointment in their performance during the fight.

“I am sorry Sir, we will try again, Sir. Let us go down the way a little and start over.” Wendy couldn’t stop laughing at her daughter as she asked for a second chance. The two had managed to get a small adrenalin rush from their fight, and couldn’t stop giggling. Wendy’s eyes were red from laughter, as her cheeks were red from her daughter’s quick slaps to the face.

“No, give your panties to Uncle Creepy, you don’t deserve to wear them. Those are for fighting bitches. You two cunts couldn’t fight your way out of wet paper bags.”

“Yes Sir, right away.” Wendy stepped out of her panties to hand them to Uncle Creepy on the midway. Try as they may to be noticed while setting up and enacting their fake fight, dropping out of the panties did turn heads. Several people watched her and her daughter slide down the twisted pair of panties and step out of them.

“Here you go, Sir. Would you like to sniff  my sweaty, filthy panties?” Wendy asked seductively of Uncle Creepy.

He took them without a word, his mustache only moving slightly in what may have passed for a thank you.

“Have mine too, please Sir. I hope you enjoy the scent of my cunt and ass.” Jamie, who had calmed down from her short little workout said as she handed him her pair. Creepy casually brought the panties to his nose, before pulling them back to his waist, balling them up tightly in his fist, and looking straight ahead.

“Why don’t cunts like you get to wear panties?” Bill asked his daughter for Uncle Creepy’s benefit.

“We have lost the right to that privilege to help us remember our place in the house, as sluts, and to keep us from having a feeling of privacy and comfort, Sir. It amuses my brother and father, to keep us pantyless and without bras, so we jiggle and bounce.”

“Good answer, piggy.” Bill gave his daughter praise before announcing “You two fight like, well you fight like girls. You’ll do the goldfish dare or you’ll come up with something suitable to amuse us, of equal or greater entertainment value.”

Wendy and Jamie could not think of anything at that moment. They looked around the fair, most of the dares that came to mind seemed simple by comparison. Wendy’s first thought was trying to balance pretzels on their nose, or tie cherry stems in knots. Jamie’s thoughts were all far worse, vague scenarios involving dicks and pain and things that were nasty, and she preferred not to try to visualize them, much less describe them.

“How does the goldfish thing work again, Sir?” Wendy asked exasperated.

“You will pick me or Dad as your champion. You can both pick the same person. Dad and I take ten dimes and try to plop them into the fish bowl. If we win you take a goldfish, and put it in your mouth until the end of the dare.”

“If we both take the same person, and you win only one goldfish, how would that work, Sir?” Jamie asked of her brother.

“Cut it in half?” Chris guessed.

“I guess it means that you can alternate. So if you want to be sneaky little bitches, which I know you both are, you will use that loophole to each pick the same person.” Bill didn’t seem angry, he was trying to be helpful in expounding upon the rules.

“What happens to the goldfish at the end, Sir?” Jamie asked her father inquisitively.

“Swallow them.” He said pragmatically to the girls whose faces suddenly went pale in empathy with the poor little fishies. “Oh stow it. These goldfish cost the fair less than 10 cents each. They live to be given to a little boy who will shake the bag all night until he gets home and his parents find it dead. Then they’ll run to the store in the morning and buy another goldfish so they don’t break the little boy’s heart.”

“Is that what happened to Milton my goldfish?” Chris asked his Dad warily.

“Sorry you had to find out that way.” Bill laughed at his son’s question. “Yeah, I spent about 30 bucks buying you a tank and then you forgot to feed it, after a week. I bought you a replacement, and you forgot to feed that one, before I just gave up.”

“That explains a lot. I just thought Milton changed colors.” Chris seemed to be lost for a moment reflecting on his long lost childhood pet.

“You would be doing them a favor to not be shaken all night, to end up in your gullet. It’s a quick and painless thing.” Bill instructed his two sluts.

“C’mon mom, you’ve swallowed a lot worse.” Chris was kidded his mom playfully. He noted her smoldering eyes, and he quietly let that off-color joke sink back to the place it came from.

“Okay, okay. This entire thing squicks me out, Sir.” Wendy changed the subject using the term ‘squick’ which Chris had taught her meant ‘being grossed out/turning your stomach’ years earlier. “My only other concern is will you hold it against us, for not picking you?”

Bill and Chris seemed confused.

“Let’s say Jamie and I pick one of you, that means we are betting you are terrible at throwing, because we don’t want you to win. You are asking us to bet against you.”

“You think too much, woman!” Bill said disgusted, but conceded her point.

“Could we both pick Uncle Creepy, Sir?” Wendy used the name very gingerly. She didn’t want to imply anything negative about him. She knew they felt comfortable mocking him, but given they saw Creepy as her superior in all things since he was male, she didn’t know how they would feel about her calling him that name.

“Can you throw dimes?” Bill said slowly to Uncle Creepy, pantomiming the act of flipping dimes into fishbowls as if he were deaf.

Uncle Creepy did not answer. He simply led them back in his own quiet way to the goldfish toss game they had passed earlier. There were people already throwing dimes on all four sides of the booth, trying to win themselves a little orange fish.

When they got there, Chris changed three dollars into dimes with the carnie running the game. “This is the new rule, if Uncle Creepy doesn’t make any, you have to do however many goldfish that Dad and I win!”

Jamie seemed alarmed, “No fair, changing the rules as you go, Sir.” She said as respectfully as she could to register her concern.

“You asked if Uncle Creepy could play. It’s only fair, all things considered.” Chris silently implied that Uncle Creepy may not be playing with a full deck/incapable of hitting the bowls.

“I see your point.” Wendy acknowledged her son and asked her daughter, “I’ll still take my chances, do you want to bet on your Dad or Chris instead?”

“Uncle Creepy for the win!” Jamie cheered enthusiastically.

Bill gave her a look, before silently deciding it was okay for them to refer to him as “Uncle Creepy”. He didn’t know his name and under the circumstances he really didn’t care.

“Okay, are you sluts ready?”

“Our mouths are open and ready, Sir.”

Bill, Chris and Creepy flung their first dimes in unison. There was a satisfying ‘chinking’ sound as the dimes found their way down to the bottom of the stand with the hundreds of other dimes from past attempts by customers to win a goldfish.

“Yay, Uncle Creepy!” Jamie did a quick jump reminiscent of her cheer routines.

The second dime toss had the same result. “Just getting our bearings, sluts!” Bill declared to the smiling Wendy and Jamie who were anxiously hoping they would continue to miss.

A handsome guy with his sweetheart on his arm was close by throwing dimes as well. He threw his last one and his girlfriend cheered. “Yay, we don’t have to bring home any goldfish!” Showing mock excitement at her boyfriend’s loss at the game.

“Yeah, yeah, but you love me anyway.” He chided the cute girl with a caress.

“Honey, I know you’d get me a goldfish, but what would I do with it?” she looked in his eyes lovingly before kissing him as the two walked away holding hands.

The lover’s exchange had the added effect of reminding Wendy just how abnormal and twisted her relationship with her husband had become. Instead of romantic gestures, she was waiting to find out how many goldfish she had to hold in her mouth.

The third and fourth dime suffered the same fate of the first ones. Skittering on to the dirty game floor, or landing in a glass ashtray that had been set out next to one of the many red, blue or yellow fishbowls that were the targets.

The girls sighed relief. Things had been so dim, one unfortunate event after the other. It was about time lady luck gave them a break!

“plink” Uncle Creepy made his shot.

Bill and Chris did a high five, as a goldfish was provided in a bag of clear water by the carnie tending the game.

“Wendy, you first.”

Wendy took the bag, and untied it. “Just reach in and take him out?” she asked, making a face that implied ‘You actually want me to touch it’?

The delicate goldfish couldn’t have been more than 2 inches long, flecked in golden scales it darted back and forth in the bag, oblivious that his fate was being decided even now.

“Give me the bag!” Bill grabbed it, spilling some of it’s precious life giving water as he did. He was a seasoned fisherman and it was second nature for him to grab the delicate fish. The life of the fish meant about as much to him as the live bait he’d use to catch bass would.

He made a mental note that he had never taken Chris fishing before. He’d have to see if the boy wanted to go. It may be another chance for ‘father-son bonding’.

He could see in his wife and daughter’s eyes the tiny wriggling fish, flapping and fighting within his hand to be returned to water was a “cute little fishy”.

That is why it amused him so much to order his wife, “Open that big mouth of yours and keep it open.” Because the look of pain on her face was deeper than any pain he had given her with the paddle. It gave him an instant boner.

“Your next, baby girl!” He pointed to Jamie, who was even now forming a tiny little tear in the corner of her eye.

Chris at first had seemed sensitive to the idea of the baby fish being yanked from its bag. He had the same pained expression his mom and sister did. But seeing how his mom was dancing in place, wrestling with the notion that wriggling under her tongue was a living gold fish expiring in her mouth gave him a boner too.

His mom kept her mouth opened wide, holding her tongue over the fish. Wendy was making an “Ahhhhh” noise the way one does when the doctor places a tongue depressor in your mouth to have a look. Her eyes were clenched shut and she had a pained expression, but she held herself bravely in place.

The sixth dime landed in place just as the last one.

“Hot Damn!” Bill clapped his hands enthusiastically.

The carnie shrugged handing the goldfish to Bill, who accepted it for Uncle Creepy. It was obvious the scruffy carnie didn’t care what anyone did with the goldfish. He had just handed a bag to a little boy who spun himself like a helicopter until he was dizzy and let the bag explode on the ground only moments before.

“Here you go lucky six.” Bill named the goldfish for the number of dimes it took to get him, and just as quickly plopped it in his daughter’s waiting mouth. “Like a daddy bird, feeding its baby”

“Urrkk” Jamie covered her mouth with her hand, eyes wide, and dancing nervously just like her mom.

“Hands to your side.” Bill pulled her hands to her side, like pulling open the spring jaws of a bear trap. Chris  snapped a picture of the girl’s in an absolute pandemonium at the same time.

Seventh dime. “Another winner, the man is on a roll!” the dirty carnie added a third goldfish to their winnings.

Bill just as quickly grabbed it from the safety of its watery bag and thrust it into his wife’s open mouth.

“We need those ring gags, you know the ones that prop their mouths open?” Chris noted as both Jamie and Wendy struggled to hold the wriggling orange fish in their open mouth as he snapped a picture on his cell phone.

His dad agreed, thinking the fair probably sold kinky little leather toys like that at one of the many booths. It was too late for this dare, but he would have to remember that for next time.

Creepy was on a winning streak. His eighth dime landed on the mark as well, a perfect throw.

“Oh c’mon Jamie, this is funny.” he plopped the next wriggling, little fish into his daughter’s mouth, right past her naturally straight white teeth and on to her pink tongue.

“Oh Mrrmmrmm” was all she could muster, it almost sounded like pleasure unless you knew it was more a gargle of terror muted by the fact she was still holding back a still living goldfish in the last of its death throes. Jamie instinctively locked her hands on her mouth to keep the new fish from hopping back out of her mouth. Her brother had to pull her hands away from her face and hold them at her side as she gyrated uncontrollably to the “icky” feeling winding its way down her back.

Ninth dime, just misses its mark and falls on the ground. The guys let out an agonizing groan like their favorite team just missed an easy kick at the Super Bowl.

The tenth dime soared up, almost didn’t make it, hit the edge of the bowl and plops into the bowl at the last possible second. “YES!!” the guy’s triumphantly shouted like their team managed to win that Super Bowl game by the skin of their teeth.

“Open up, baby!” Bill held this little fish by its tail so she could see full length as he slowly brought it over her open mouth.

Wendy groaned, her eyes saying “No, No” there were two fish in there already.

“Get your mouth open wider, or point to what hole you want the third one in.” Bill grinned evilly.

She was in tears, several of the other players nearby were watching as Bill dropped the final goldfish into her now fully extended mouth as she held herself as wide as she could possibly get.

“Okay babies, you can swallow!” Bill said as if the girls were making too big a production as they choked and gagged with the fish still flopping around.

They couldn’t do it. The girls couldn’t choke the fish down without water. Wendy pointed to Chris’s big root beer mug, and pantomimed choking with her other hand holding her neck.

A very large black man had finally seen enough. “I don’t know what your game is, but it seems very disrespectful.” He addressed Bill and Chris, coming to the girl’s aid.

First Jamie buckled at the knee, then bent over and vomited up the two goldfish she was holding in her mouth. A very dry heave, only expelling the fishy water spit and the now deceased gold fish.

Then Wendy succumbed to the gross fish in her mouth, expelling the contents of her mouth on the dirty clay beneath their feet.

“There are sushi houses where they pay big bucks for that stuff!” Chris joked as he watched the two women spray the contents of their mouths on the ground.

The black guy was furious, “That is completely disrespectful. How dare you talk like that. I’ve been watching you guys treat these women like dogs and I am not standing for it!”  His speech had a sermon like quality to it, as he registered his righteous indignation with the family.

“Relax, it was a bet, and they lost.” Bill tried to sound calm, but he was quietly balling up a fist. He wasn’t as big as this guy, but he was ready for anything.

“Bet my ass.” The black guy said, “I am here tonight with my son, I would never let him disrespect women like this, and I don’t appreciate it. Not at all.” the guy only became more angry with every word.

As Wendy recovered and staggered to her feet, she scooped up the now Dead goldfish in the palm of her hand. The Chang twins had applied some eye make up to her before she left their store, and it was now running down her face from the choked tears.

“I think you had better back down.” Bill said defiantly to the man who was intruding on his family fun night.

“Or what is going to happen?” The body language of the big black man shifted to someone who was inviting Bill to take a swing.

“It’s okay, it was fun. See?” Jamie said from behind Wendy. She had also stumbled her way to her feet and stuck one of the goldfish in between her teeth, leaving half the fish’s tail exposed. She approached her mom and embraced her,

awkwardly.

Wendy at first wasn’t sure why her daughter was sticking the fish in her face, and then realized Jamie was diffusing the tension between the men. “Yeah, we didn’t think they could win any goldfish, so we have to swallow whatever they catch in ten tries.” Wendy smiled at the large man who didn’t seem to be buying her story.

As further proof, she put her lips next to her daughter and took the fish out of her mouth, transferring it to her mouth.

“May I have some of your root beer, to wash it down sir?” Wendy implored her son.

He didn’t hesitate to hand his mug to her and she washed it down, nearly choking at first. “Kind of like a sardine.” She noted as if it wasn’t that big of a deal.

“Ready to try, Jamie?” Putting one of the goldfish she had dropped onto the dirt in her own mouth the same way, she transferred it back to Jamie, who, taking several gulps of her brother’s root beer, got the fish down.

The entire time she had her eyes shut, trying not to picture the cute little orange fish from “Finding Nemo” as she did. When she finally choked down the fish, she opened her eyes brightly with a smile, and looked right at the guy who was challenging her father. “Wow, I had forgotten what root beer tasted like.” She smiled as she licked her lips. She had drank mostly flavored waters before the training and only plain water after. This would be her first root beer since her dad took her to get root beer floats when she was eleven years old.

  “C’mon Reggie, white people be crazy.” The big man backed down, seeing that the women didn’t need him to rescue them from distress. As he took his son in hand, the teenage boy with him turned to smile and wink at Wendy. It was Reggie, the boy who worked at Wendy’s and whose dick she had sucked the week prior.

Wendy was surprised but waved to him, still holding the two remaining fish in her hand. It made sense, since the fair wasn’t too far from the poor side of town that he’d be here. She wondered if he would tell his father what he had seen her do. It made her shudder almost as much as holding the slimy fish in her hand did.

Bill was quiet for a full minute after Reggie’s dad left. He gratefully acknowledged the girls, “Thank you both for that.” and he just left it at that. There was an unspoken appreciation that the girls had stepped up and taken one for the team, which is why it made him feel just a teensy bit guilty.

A teensy bit guilty to insist they finish the fish the way they had begun.

The Family Feud III

Chapter Fourteen
“Methinks she doth protest too much”

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 26
Get out of jail cards: 1
JAMIE: 29
Get out of jail cards: 1

Jamie said “Oh God, it feels like there is a party in my mouth, and everyone threw up.” In disgust.

“Sis, I didn’t know you were a Futurama fan?” Chris smiled.

Jamie wasn’t sure what he was talking about, she just nodded quietly and finished swallowing the second fish, which was much harder than it had seemed.

As Wendy swallowed the last of her fish, her face had become ashen white and her face knotted with disgust.

“Swallow like you swallow your words, dear. You know the ones where you said 'The Taylor men have devolved into lazy, inconsiderate, cowardly, and out of shape specimens of manhood, totally lacking in motivation' he quoted back for her the very first line of the “Taylor Women's Declaration of Independence” that she had shoved in his face when this entire affair began weeks ago.

All Wendy could do was choke down the adorable goldfish, holding her throat with a pained expression. Nodding in agreement with her husband.

It felt good to remember that, and to make her remember that. When he said those words out loud and heard himself repeat “Devolved” and “Lazy, inconsiderate, cowardly” they felt like fresh slaps to his face; to his ego. It made it easier to enjoy watching his wife's difficulty swallowing the fish. It wouldn't hurt her to swallow them, and her pride.

It also helped so that he didn't feel any guilt about the fact that the girls had prevented him from getting in a fight with a guy he really didn't want to fight with their quick thinking and sacrifice of their pride. They didn't have to do that. He wouldn't have done that if he were them. 'Ack!' he realized he was still thinking about what they just did and it was interrupting the solid erection he was getting from watching them agonize over the 'cute little fishy'.

“Okay fish breath, want to go home?”

“Yes Sir.” Wendy answered her husband submissively.

“What about you turd face, you like it here, or want to lounge your lazy ass in the back of the truck and go home?”

Jamie answered her father “I’d like to go home, Sir.”

“Well too fucking bad, you big babies.” Bill spit on the ground. “You did really good on that last dare. Chris, who won?” he asked his son.

“Won?” Chris had not really thought the dare through to the point that a winner could be determined. He had just wanted to see them stick goldfish in their mouths and watch them flutter and flop around.

This didn’t inspire the girls. Even Bill realized that it came across bad to have not planned the game a little better.

While the girls had tried to become more spontaneous, and the guys had become better at planning, neither had achieved mastery over letting go of old habits.

“You both made up for your shitty fight, so I won’t be punishing you for that.” Bill’s tone was conciliatory, summing up the outcome. “The goldfish dare, I’ve got to admit was fun, it was funny, and I think technically you both tied. You didn’t really have any choice in how many goldfish you got, so other than holding your big mouths open and standing their like sacks of shit, I don’t really think it was a contest.”

Wendy and Jamie couldn’t help but feel he was minimizing their effort to play along, but neither objected.

“Since you did that last little bit at the end, I am going to say that both of you get your ‘get out of jail’ free card. That seems fair. You can’t use it tonight.” He told them.

Wendy and Jamie actually felt a little better about the outcome now, both smiling that they had some sort of reprieve they could use if they were given a correction punishment. They could object with their ‘card’.

“We’ve got a grand finale to do tonight, then we are getting out of here. This is our big finish. Are you two hookers ready, or do you need me to strip you naked and give you affirmations?” Bill asked his wife and daughter.

“What is the dare, sir?” Wendy asked, “And who gets to pick?”

Bill scratched his head. He hadn’t planned on a tie. “You both have to decide. It needs to be unanimous. Don’t decide and we’ll pick for you, how is that?”

“Very good, Sir.” Wendy answered politely.

“Chris, you tell them your dare, and I will tell them mine.” Bill asked. The family had returned to the small food court of four picnic tables that they had sat at earlier to continue their discussions. It wasn’t that busy, being after midnight, many people were simply no longer eating.  Anyone who remained at the fair this late, was mostly doing it for the thrill rides to get the most out of their wristbands that permitted unlimited rides, or they were doing the games of chance and skill.

“You remember we walked past the medieval area, with all the knights and troubadours?” Chris mentioned a part of the fair that may have been a blur to Wendy and Jamie. Chris described an area of the fair with a renne faire theme. “There is one stage, and they do magic, or puppets, there was even a whip show earlier.”

Chris described the whip show, which made Wendy nervous. The performer had used an authentic bullwhip to shred a “news scroll” (newspaper) that his partner was holding, cutting it in half, then that half he cut in half, then he cut that half in half, until it was just a tiny scrap of paper. “It must have been something Dad and I saw when we were walking around.” He finally decided.

Wendy didn’t like where he was going with it, picturing being whipped by a real bullwhip made her visualize Kunta Kentai, the runaway slave from ‘Roots’ a show she had seen as a child.

“There is a big beer tent with beer wenches in low cut Elizabethan gowns that reveal their cleavage, who serve. It’s fun to watch them make lemonade. They shake and shake and shake, and then pour.” He smiled.

Wendy liked this story a little better. She had already been humiliated fully nude as “SpongeBoob” tonight. If it was a beer wench, that didn’t sound so bad.

Chris went on to describe jugglers, swordplay, something he called an “SCA Tent” that no one else understood, until his father finally interrupted him to get to his point.

“Okay, yeah. They’ve got this pillory there. People pay a buck for three ripe tomatoes and throw them, while the fool trapped inside mocks them. All you’ve got to do is volunteer to be a fool, and whoever gets the most throws at the end, wins!”

“What is a pillory, Sir?” Jamie asked cautiously. She knew her brother was into dungeons and dragons, swords and sorcery, but had never herself shown any interest in the subject.

“It is what the settlers used in Salem. They would take a woman accused of gossip, or witchcraft and then put her in it. It is a big wooden block, which would have been in the center of town.”

“And if they won’t let us volunteer?”

“I spoke to the guy who runs it, when Dad and I were wandering around on our own. They actually invite audience members, especially drunk ones to come on up and have a turn in the stocks. They have water to wash you off and everything. It is supposed to be fun.”

Wendy wasn’t sure, but she felt there had to be a catch.

Bill spoke about his dare next. “Mine is going to be a simple foot race!” Bill started his explanation and cut right to the chase.

“Actually, it’s more of an ass race, than a foot race.” Wendy and Jamie were the only ones now not smiling.

“You both got to piss earlier, but you haven’t been begging to take a shit. Seems to me, you aren’t regular.”

Wendy thought to herself, “Uh-oh”.

“So you may find there is some health benefit. I call my game the lemon drop. We’ll buy frozen lemonade for you. Then give it to you as an enema.” Bill saw the worried look on their faces and without any empathy for their fear at all added, “Don’t worry, You won’t have to get the enema in public. It can be done privately, you can thank me later.”

The girls started to shift nervously.

“Once you get the enema, the race is on. You’ll start walking together, and you will walk, and walk and walk. The clear winner will be the girl who did not shit herself first. Once you crap your drawers, you lose. The winner gets to release her lemon drop in private behind one of the fair booths.”

“Do you even have an enema bottle, Sir?” Wendy asked quietly.

“They sell funnels near here.” Bill explained.

“Yeah, funnel cake!” Chris laughed, but no one else got his joke.

“I am going to guarantee neither of you can make it more than ten minutes, and you’ll be done with my dare. Chris is going to take at least an hour.”

“You are going to be permitted to get rowdy and yell at people for an hour, even us if we decide to give it a throw. Anything you say, won’t be held against you. So you can be as raunchy or as mean as you want, if you do my dare. The more you rile up the crowd, the more money your pillory box makes.”

“I may need an affirmation before deciding this one, Sir.” Wendy puffed air past her lip, trying to decide which of the two horrible choices lay before her. They had screwed up the dare they chose last time, and for their troubles were made to do the one they didn’t want in the first place.

“This time I think Chris’s dare sounds the least gross.” Jamie said trying to sound constructive. She too was puzzled as to which may be the most satisfying for the guys, with the least amount of humiliation and pain. “I guess I need the affirmation too, Sirs.” She said wistfully. She wasn’t sure the affirmations would help her make her mind up, but it didn’t sound like it could hurt.

“Stand up and put your hands flat on the picnic table!” Chris demanded suddenly.

The girls had been concentrating on the decision before them, it took them a moment to comply. Wendy thought they would go back to some place more private like the tunnel of love.

“Informal affirmation time, cunts.” The girls were already standing, leaning forward slightly, in the perfect position for spanking them. They both had their palms down on the picnic table, with a serious look on their faces.

“Mom, are you my whore?” Chris asked.

“Yes Sir” he said.

They had established at the very start of affirmations, which you couldn’t just agree. You had to hear yourself saying it out loud. “Mom, when you taught me and Dad how to do affirmations, would you have accepted Yes Ma’am, or would you have made us visualize, quantify, and enunciate the change we want?” he quoted back some of her exact words.

Wendy wanted to point out that she (probably) would not have made them say that they were her whore. Although given enough time, drunk with power, she may have found a way to justify it. Instead, she answered her son’s question. “You are right, Sir. I am your whore. I was just embarrassed to admit it, because people may hear”.

Chris looked around to make a show of the fact that no one was sitting at the other three picnic tables. Anyone could walk up at any moment, and the cooks inside the food trailers may overhear, but overall things were fairly private in the immediate area.

“You are right once again, Sir. I am embarrassed to admit it to myself as well.”

“Why did you get it tattooed on your ass, then Mom?”

Chris had asked a deeply painful question. She had chosen to get a tattoo to appease her husband. When she agreed to his request (after denying it several times before) she thought it was going to be smaller and not as graphic. She had been caught up in trying to convince Jamie not to get the tattoo herself. This had never really been about pleasing Chris or admitting she was a whore. But it was becoming that way.

She had continued to go along with it, because she really did feel it would remind her of this experience and because Bill had desired it so much.

She hadn’t processed the concept that Chris had designs on whoring her out to his friends at that time. In retrospect, she probably should have realized it would be possible even without the tattoo. He had been sending Jamie out with guys all week, it had been easier not to think about what that meant to her. She hadn’t got the tattoo with Chris in mind at all.

She advocated honesty, and she felt like such a hypocrite. As with so many things that had been going through her mind, she had mixed feelings. At the house meeting she had tried to explain to the guys some things that had been on her mind, but ended up sticking with only two points she had wanted to make.

There was something else bothering her. On the one hand, she was wanting to be done with this training, this chaos in her life, this pain, this humiliation in as quick a manner as she could, while saving her daughter from the worst of things. That is a big hand, and the one she was presenting to everyone.

That hand told her that they deserved to go through this, not only because they agreed to it but because she had humiliated her son and husband like cuckolds.

Then on the other hand, the little quiet hand, that she felt no one else could see. There was this tiny little voice that was seeing progress, and justifying her behavior. This hand was the counter-point to an internal conflict. There was a comfort in having things decided for her, in seeing the men take responsibility. There was a solace in sharing this experience with her daughter, as tough as it was. She didn’t fear for her life, she knew that as tough as it was she would survive it and that maybe there was more behind why she was accepting the retribution now that she had begun the training.

She just couldn’t see her way clear to process all the reasons. She had wanted to bring them up in the family meeting, but she changed her mind after she started to ramble a little. ‘This is why you always prepare for a meeting’ she chided herself, with something she would have told a subordinate at work in the same situation. It made her smile briefly.

“Cunt, we are all waiting?” Chris demanded.

How long had she been quiet? She wondered. Chris had interrupted her introspection and she scrambled to answer him. “I got the tattoo on my ass, because I agreed to it, and you felt the design was appropriate Sir. It marks me as a whore, your whore sir, my husband’s whore. A Taylor Whore.” She cleared her throat as she looked around hoping no one walked in to the picnic area while she had been lost in thought.

“Are you looking forward to showing Mrs. Waxerman what you got at the fair?” Chris asked.

Wendy couldn’t help but smile, “That WILL be an interesting explanation, Sir”. She could only imagine the old woman’s feigned outrage.

“You see, a part of you wouldn’t do this, if you didn’t enjoy it!” Chris laughed.

He did not realize it, but both Jamie and Wendy had not thought about things this way. How could one ‘enjoy’ having a corn dog stuck between your ass cheeks, or eating it afterwards while onlookers laughed at you? He may not have even thought about how profound his words were, but both Wendy and Jamie started to look back on the experiences that had brought them joy, while they were going through pain. It wouldn’t register to them at that time, but it had planted a seed in their mind.

They had enjoyed playing with Mrs. Waxerman’s head and shocking her. They had enjoyed the attention of some of the people who hadn’t thought much about why two girls would be selling kisses wearing body paint. They had enjoyed some of the fear. Could this be why people enjoy rollercoasters that can make them sick, turn them upside down and dump all the change out of their pockets, send them whizzing at breakneck speeds through the night air? Wendy and Jamie didn’t enjoy rollercoasters and thrill rides, so they had no frame of reference to ask themselves this question or answer it at that time.

Instead, Wendy continued the thought about Mrs. Waxerman’s visit. “I suppose I will tell her, my good husband and son, felt it necessary to mark me with the brand of a whore, like the Puritans did adulterers in Old Salem with a scarlet “A”. She will pretend that is outrageous and ask me to tell her more.” Wendy couldn’t contain her giggles.

Chris hadn’t paid attention in English Literature, but even he had seen the movie Scarlet Letter. “Demi Moore was hot!” he said aloud.

Turning his attention to his sister, “What about you, slut?”

“I will tell her I am the whore daughter, of a whore mother, and I was marked, as I will mark any daughters I bear, unless providence gives me a husband strong enough to save them of my wicked influence, I do declare.” She said in her sweet southern drawl Dixie Sinclair voice.

Chris hadn’t actually meant to ask her what she’d say to Mrs. Waxerman. His question was more general, but he liked her response. “I say, I say, Dad and I shall have to think of something special for our next social call from Mrs. Victoria Waxerman.” he did his best southern gentleman imitation as response, sounding something like Foghorn Leghorn instead.

“Do you cunts need more affirmation, or are you ready to pick a dare?” Chris asked, not feeling like digging deeper with questions due to his light mood.

“Speaking for myself Sir, you only asked me one question.” Jamie sounded at first disappointed, but then her eyes sparkled playfully, “I don’t think the affirmations will turn us into Roboslut and the Cuntinator 2000. Emotionless whoring machines from the future who fear no humiliation.”

That analogy pleased her brother, who suddenly had visions of a mother and daughter terminator sent back in time naked by a Cyberdyne computer to stop John Conner by titty fucking him to death. “Remember when I said I’d fuck you last? I lied!” Chris said in a perfect imitation of Arnold Schwarzenegger delivering one of his classic catch phrases.

Everyone laughed heartily, even Bill who had been quietly observing. He got what Jamie was saying about robots. He did not want them to be emotionless robots incapable of fear, who did everything he said. He liked that they were taking the decision before them seriously. He told them so. “Just make up your fucking minds, though.”

Enema, and go splat somewhere in front of hundreds of people as their colons explode, or agree to the pillory in medieval towne at the county fair? A tough decision between two evils.

“As I am marked with the scarlet W, I suppose it is appropriate to select the town square, puritan style.” Wendy let out a breath as she made her choice.

“I am going to feel bad if we show Mrs. Waxerman the pictures of tonight and she keels over and has a heart attack.” Jamie joked, implying she had no objection to her mom’s decision.

“You would be the only one.” Bill mused as the group made their way to where the medieval themed rides, shops and attractions were all jumbled together at the fair.

It was about five minutes’ walk for them. The girls were made to walk behind the guys for a time, submissively with their heads down. Bill decided half way to their destination to change it up, “Walk in front, let’s see you wiggle it”

Jamie and Wendy got in front of the guys, and Jamie was first to do a cute little rump shake from cheerleading.

“Wiggle it, just a little bit.” Chris hummed a lyric from a song. She shook a little bit more, letting herself dance loosely. Her mother joined in shaking her butt for the guys.

“Wanna see you wiggle it, go on and wiggle it” Chris hummed and sang as the girls jiggled past the stands and games, unsure of their destination, hoping the guys knew where they were heading.

They stopped at a refreshment stand. “Two Lemon Slushees, please.” Bill ordered a drink for his son and himself. He enjoyed looking at his wife’s and daughter’s expectant faces when he ordered something without including them. It was almost as if they were silently hoping he would be generous and get them one too, waiting with baited breath.

“Did you two want one of these?” He rattled the lemon ice in his cup.

“I am afraid, you’d want to put it in a hole other than my mouth, Sir.” Wendy said in deference to her husband.

He smiled. She hadn’t said she didn’t want one. It tickled him to know she probably did. He sipped on the straw and smiled at her. Watching her, watch him slurp it up.

“Mmm, tastes like frozen lemonade, doesn’t it son?” he slapped Chris on the back.

“Indeed it does, Dad!” Chris grinned back at his father. The two men continued walking down the midway lane, while Chris sang his rap song, and the girls jiggled their butts. The men gave no more thought to the girls or whether they would have enjoyed a frosty refreshing beverage than they would to a passing stranger.

The Taylor’s had just passed a Jamaican themed store, with the Rastafarian shopkeeper noticing the butt shaking women strutting in front of his stand “Very nice ta’ see, Mon!”

Bill waved back with a friendly smile, “Welcome to Jamaica, Mon. Have a Nice Day!”, sending ripples of laughter through his family who remembered Mikey’s off-color joke from earlier in the night.

The mood was festive as they turned another corner, opening into “Medieval Towne”, a hodge podge of completely anachronistic and only slightly historical renaissance themed rides, shoppes, and stands arranged like a village from the middle ages around a central square.

To their immediate left was a leather crafter, and Bill thought about taking a diversion to pick up a few supplies for around the house. He decided that could wait when he had a better look at the ‘Stockade’ that dominated the center of the square.

The “Stockade” was a fenced in area, on the ground bales of hay, muddy clay and lots of busted tomatoes. In the very center was a medieval style wooden pillory. A wooden pillory is best described as wooden stocks used for punishments. It is odd then that at that moment, a family of five would be taking pictures of mom and dad sticking their necks through the wooden hole that had been hinged so that it could be locked around their necks. They willingly put their hands through two holes on either side, and mugged for the camera as their eldest daughter took a photo.

Then as if being inside a device like this was amusing, they just as quickly switched places with their kids, and brother and sister got in the wooden devices so Mom and Dad could take a picture of them. The placards read, “N’er DoWell” and “Public Nuisance” under the wooden stocks.

At the center of the entire thing was “Medieval Steve”, a flamboyantly dressed man in purple and red jesters garb, a motley fool’s cap, and red pointed shoes. His face didn’t seem to fit his dress, he wore square glasses, and the neatly trimmed, thin mustache of someone who probably served in the military. 

“Tell us, great engine, how to understand Or reconcile the justice of this land; How Bastwick, Prynne, Hunt, Hollingsby and Pye — Men of unspotted honesty — Men that had learning, wit and sense, And more than most men have had since, Could equal title to thee claim With Oates and Fuller, men of fouler fame!” He hawked his enterprise in the town square in a bold but obviously fake English accent to no one in particular.

Noticing the Taylor family walking up to his counter  “Three Dollars for a photo,  Two dollars for three tomatoes, three dollars for five. Give me a twenty, ladies, and you can toss them all day!” Steve offered with a dramatic flourish reminiscent of a Shakespearean play.

“These are the wenches that wanted to volunteer for an hour, in your pillory.” Chris reminded him of a conversation they had earlier in the night.

“Ah yes, the doxy princesses of ill repute?” Medieval Steve asked and Chris nodded yes, unsure exactly what he had just asked him. It sounded close enough.

“I would love to accommodate you, for you see my fools are wandering here and there, looking for mead or ale.” He said quite loudly like he were performing a play. Then he put his hand aside his mouth as if to speak only to them and said “In short, they are on break”.

His amusing antics made Wendy’s butterflies quiet down in her stomach if only for a little while.

“Yet, I would be remiss in saying that at this, the witching hour of our dear Medieval Towne, I cannot afford to grant you an entire hour in the pillory, though I do believe our dear lass’s crimes most foul and heinous” He looked at the girls with mirth on his face. He had no idea what they may or may not have done. His business was letting people get in stockades, and he said these playful lines to customers on their way to his stocks simply as window dressing to the experience.

Jamie and Wendy were not sure what exactly he knew about them, but it did make them wonder how much Chris had told them.

“I’ll be honest with ya folks.” Medieval Steve switched back to his informal voice, putting his hand aside his mouth as if that somehow made it possible for him to speak to only them. “This is the time when the drunken frat boys want to put their buddies up in the stocks, families want last minute pictures, if you’d been here earlier I could have accommodated you, but I really can’t tie up the pillory for that long. I’ll be glad to let you get in the stocks and take a few pictures.” He offered.

He wasn’t kidding, the business was busy with people taking pictures of the pillories even with no one in them as a curiosity. What was a medieval form of torture, was now some sort of sightseeing experience and novelty.

While the Taylors were deciding what to do, another family handed Medieval Steve three dollars and gleefully stepped up to the platform. The mother stepped into the stocks, bending over, while the kids yelled “Yay!!!” and had a little fun with her predicament. Her husband was standing behind her. He put the wooden slat down around her neck in jest. Her little boy fed her his ice cream, while she pretended helplessly to have no choice but to eat the soft-serve dessert.

“What if we promise you can make a hundred dollars in tomato sales in an hour?” Bill tried to negotiate with the flamboyant jester and showman.

“One hundred dollars? Each perhaps, and then we might be talking. If we earn more, that shall still be a levy unto me, your Lord Medieval Steve, but if you cannot, then what pray tell?” Medieval Steve folded his hands in front of himself, caught up in his medieval role playing.

“Then for every dollar they do not earn, they shall earn a spanking?” Bill offered as if he were guessing.

Medieval Steve lifted up a wooden mallet that looked like the kind the comedian Gallagher used to smash watermelons in his comedy show. “From Mother-in-law?” he asked with an intensely amused expression.

“Sure!” Bill promised.

Medieval Steve wasn’t sure where to go with that. He usually held up his favorite war hammer and expected people to cower and tremble with fear, or at the very least be appreciative. It was his version of “You call that a knife? That’s not a Knife. THIS is a knife” from the Crocodile Dundee movies.

“I like your spirit!” Medieval Steve said gleefully but offered a counter-proposal of his own. “How about for every dollar they do not make, you reimburse me, and you work it out among yourselves, for you see Mother-in-law…”  He brought the hammer down on a soft tomato laying on the ground, squishing it into gushy bits for dramatic flair “Would crush ripe tomatoes like the ones held behind Milady’s petticoats”.

Medieval Steve made quite certain they were willing to proceed with the negotiation, especially the girls who affirmed he did. “Good, you see we did have an extensive scroll of release liabilities for infirmities, loss of limbs, loss of life, decapitation, pox, plague, heresy, witchery.”  As he said each one, he counted on a finger in the practiced speech he had prepared “But, alas the scroll was ruined by the last chap who was in your position. His spleen burst all over the thing, and now it is totally illegible. A pity for him.” He was far from serious. It was obviously a standard line he delivered to address liabilities with his customers in an amusing but informative manner, delivered in a way that wouldn’t break character for him.

His manner reminded Jamie of Willy Wonka; walking children through his candy land of wonders, wryly noting each of them being caught up in a chocolate tube, or falling down a pit of golden eggs by their greed or gluttony.

“It looks like you wore clothes you can get dirty in.” Medieval Steve said approvingly.

“Oh yes Sir, we’ve been getting dirty all night.” Wendy smiled back as she stood on the platform, looking at the wooden stocks, picturing a guillotine slicing off her head if she put her neck down.

Medieval Steve got her double meaning and smiled back at her. “Yes, I do love dirty girls. Well, I hope you’ve brought a change of clothes, because this is going to be messy fun. I do emphasize that the messy is more on your end, and the fun is more on everyone else.”

“Yes Sir” the girls accepted his advice, standing with hands behind their back, looking at each other for support.

To Medieval Steve, the fact the ladies called him Sir didn’t seem odd at all. Milord, Sir, Knight of the realm, it was all the same to him.

“Do you have any questions? You two look like you’ve done this before, have you?” He asked as they bent over at the waist to place their pretty necks inside the wooden semi-circle he was holding open for them.

“I’ve never seen an attraction like this before.” Wendy said as more of a general comment, than a question.

“I have will you know fair maiden, that I’ve Medieval Steve’s Pillory and Wholesale Torture Facility has shocked, and awed crowds across seven kingdoms, and been kicked out of every reputable renne faire from here to Missouri, yes we have. It was impossible to tell where he was improvising and what was a prepared line, his wit was so quick. He winked at them, and had them put their wrists through the hand holes before lowering the top half of the wooden pillory on to each of them in turn.

“What about the feet holes?” Bill called from twenty feet away, still at the sturdy, wooden counter.

“I seldom use the feet holes, you see it isn’t lady like. Our fair maidens would have their derrieres exposed to the night airy-air.” He giggled at his rhyming joke.

“And, that is bad because?” Bill called back, putting his hands around his mouth like a megaphone.

“You’ve a point, Milord!” Medieval Steve was ever the showman. “You ladies, I assume have no objection?” he looked down at the two of them now made helpless by the weight of the wooden clapboard holding them in place.

They both said “No Sir” dutifully.

He ignored their responses and yelled aloud “It wouldn’t matter if you did, for I , and only I. Medieval Steve, will be the agent of your release. You are my prisoner. I sentence you to one hour in our stocks, upon which may be visited upon you the humiliations of our gentle towns folk, for a tidy profit to me, Medieval Steve!” he held his finger pointed up for comedic effect. Then helped the girls get their feet into the holes at the bottom of the wooden slat and locked them in place.

He whispered to them each “I don’t think you can make it an entire hour like this, usually I put my fools on stools if I use these holes at all.” He liked to rhyme even when he was being informal. “Would you like me to fetch you the stools?”

“No Sir, my husband will decide if we should have them.” Wendy answered for both her and Jamie, adding, “Or my Son.”

“Ah, very good. Commitment to the part. I rather like that. If you should change your mind, plead for stools, and I shall make them available.” He said nothing else about it.

They were now suspended in the pillory, feet no longer touching the ground. Their heads, hands and feet facing  frontwards. Their wrists, ankles and necks were secured inside a locked wooden oval. On the other side of the pillory, their butts were stuck out, seemingly floating in mid-air for their legs were no longer touching the ground. Their calves were already starting to strain from the awkward position.

He gave them each a playful swat on the behind, “Oooh, ladies, don’t tempt me!” he joked with them both in as ribald a manner as his medieval persona would allow before taking his place back at his “Money-Changing” counter where he sold tomatoes and photos.

“You’ll have to call out to the gentle folk, who know not of your crimes, and implore them let loose with their ripened fruit, or else you’ll face the dreaded Mother-in-law.’” He shook his wooden mallet menacingly at the girls.

“I thought you said they wouldn’t get hit with mother-in-law?” Chris asked confused.

“Acting, dear boy. Acting. If your ladies do not act deplorable and contemptible, we’ll n’ery a gold piece do see!”

“Start insulting people!!” Chris yelled at them. He was standing in front of several ‘bins’ set into the wooden counter. They were presently empty, but were presumably to hold the tomatoes yet to be thrown. One bin to a customer.

The girls were quiet, unsure of what to do, hanging in a medieval pillory. Jamie called back “What do we say, Sir?”

“I, Medieval Steve, shall bring all the boy’s to the yard, I can teach you, but I HAVE to Charge!” He waved his hands dramatically attempting to garner some attention. “You are dealing with a master wordsmith, an expert at the witty repartee, should you need to insult a wandering varlet, you have no need to look further than I, Medieval Steve!”

Some people noticed and were starting to gather around. “You could point at this man here, Thou wayward plume-plucked wagtail!” he pointed at his pony tail “These women are in sound need of a thrashing, if you haven’t brought your own over-ripe tomatoes, I’ve imported some from Tuscany right here for the throw! They are a mere Two dollars for three tomatoes, three dollars for five. Give me a twenty, and you can throw all day!”

The first man was skeptical, but smiling at the mock insult.

“Lady, Thy sin's not accidental, but a trade. Thou art the veriest varlet that ever chewed with a tooth.” He said to a woman dressed out in denim and biking leathers. She seemed genuinely offended by his words.

She didn’t take the bait, but her hulking boyfriend, with bald head and trimmed goatee stepped up to confront Medieval Steve.

“Defend your ladies honor, I didn’t say that. It was those gossips, who said that about your woman. Don’t slay the messenger, let loose with the arrow of contrition, and defend your goodly woman’s virtue!!”

The biker looked grim. He stood staring at Medieval Steve, the veins in his neck starting to pulse.

“Ah it is just as well, you probably could not hit the ladies from this distance.”

He walked up as if to slug Medieval Steve, but in his fist was a five dollar bill.

“Praytell, a five? The orphans shall have pumpkin soup tonight AND a bit of ale, they thank you.” He let seven tomatoes flow down a small chute by opening a wooden gate into a bin in the counter.

The Biker took aim, cocked his arm and his first throw went wild.

“Ah, I am sorry Sir. You’ve the aim of the females who grace our stocks tonight. A pity!” Medieval Steve mocked him.

The Biker took out his fury on being insulted, by throwing hard and hitting the stocks, but missing Jamie’s face by a few inches. There was a small splat that caused her to shut her eyes.

It also caused her free-standing pillory, held up by a chain attached to a stout wooden overhead beam to spin, since their legs were not holding them in place.

“Ah, keep trying and perhaps you’ll spin them around!!” Medieval Steve laughed at the unlikely occurrence. “The view I assure you, will be of their grand assets!”

The Biker joked finally speaking in a throaty voice, “That would make a better target. They don’t say anything.”

Jamie was the first to answer, having to yell loudly, “We want a pitcher, not a belly itcher!” it was ‘chatter’ she used when she was a short-stop playing Softball to rile the batters on the other team.

He flung another tomato, this time landing right above her head, before dropping into her golden hair, wiping the smile from her face.

“You’ve a sensible eye, I can see my friend!” Medieval Steve gave him some encouragement turning his attention to other customers who wanted a bin of their own, to collect their money and arm them with the overly ripe tomatoes he sold for a hefty profit.

“There is offense in the known realms more deplored, more reprobated, more legislated against than  ingrossing, forestalling, or regrating. These ladies have done all three, nine times each, and sometimes  enjoyed it!” Medieval Steve was talking up his new performers.

Bill and Chris wanted in on the action, Bill laid down a twenty dollar bill for him and his son. “The twenty is a bit of an exaggeration, my friends. Usually, people get bored long before how many throws a twenty could buy you, and want to move on.” Medieval Steve explained his offer was in jest.

Bill tapped the two twenty dollar bills with his fingers, setting them on the wooden bin.

“Well, you’ve not played me false, your girls will fetch a fair price as long as they play their roles. I’ve had bachelorette parties, where all the single bridesmaids took great care to deliver upon the blushing bride her just due after luring the bride up to my stage to play this game. I am sure they were more than a bit envious she had found herself an eligible man, and they were still bridesmaids. I suppose it shall be interesting to see if you are as zealous in your throws as jealous ladies-in-waiting.”

He opened the wooden slat holding back his supply of the ripe fruit letting their bin fill up, as he took their money.

Medieval Steve looked at a mother standing in the crowd in front of her ten-year old boy and smiled “Not to worry, madam. You only gets the jokes you are supposed to gets. Fun for Dads, fun for sons, fun for every girl and boy, and not one complaint, not never. Well there was the one, but how do you think those ladies ended up in the gallows, after all? I’ve got a kiddie show at 2pm, I do one for adults at 4pm, I escape from straight jacket. Ask me why I own a straight jacket? It’s a family heirloom! That’s right, Medieval Steve comes from a long line of nuts, our Family tree never forks!” He was getting the crowd riled up, some were laughing, others just standing there.

The girls had been sploshed a few times by direct and indirect hits. The hour had just begun. Jamie said to her mom, “Thelma and Louise, Right?”

“All the way!” Wendy responded, taking a tomato right to her face, unable to flinch or be anything other than a target. Each hit with the tomato shook the pillory just a little. It was heavy, and suspended on a chain, leaving them both feeling helpless dangling in mid-air.

There were four people in front of the six available bins. The Biker, Bill and Chris, and now a fat girl had walked up to try her luck with a couple tomatoes.

“Don’t you hate that these ladies are so THIN?” Steve slapped his knee. “I suspect you could fatten them up, by hitting them with a tomato right in the mouth.”

The woman’s aim was wild, the tomato never came close.

“She’s too fat!” Jamie shouted playfully, “She’ll never get…” SPLORCH- a tomato landed in her face. The crowd erupted with laughter. The juice still dripping from her pretty face as she blinked her eyes.

The girls did their best to taunt the crowd. It was difficult, they had been taught to be submissive and respectful the past week, and it wasn’t easy, even as a joke, to mock people. Medieval Steve made it look effortless, mocking unibrows, old people, young people, fat people, skinny people.

Steve saw several Hispanic people in a group. “Watch this” he told the small mob of onlookers and then proceeded to shout “La migra! La migra!” at them. They stopped and looked over the shoulder for what may have been immigration police, causing hysterical laughter at his saucy joke.

The girls were just hanging there, trying their best to be funny and interesting but after five minutes there were now only three people throwing tomatoes and two of those were Bill and Chris.

“Cease Fire! Let me check on our wanton prisoners, to see how they fair. Let your throwing arms rest!” Medieval Steve waved his arms around furiously that no one throw a tomato at him while he approached the elevated stage where the girls were bound.

“You are not the most lively of maidens, are you?” He asked them as he approached, keeping his voice down. They were now part of his ‘show’ but they were simply hanging there, like targets.

“I am Sorry, Sir. We are doing our best.” Wendy’s face was covered in red, goopy tomato guts.

“Yes, I can see that. Unfortunately, you are far too sympathetic. The audience pities you, you don’t seem like, well to put it bluntly the bitches they would like to see get their just rewards.”

“We are definitely bitches, sir.” Jamie coughed and sputtered some of the tomato seeds from her mouth, licking her lips in a futile effort to shake loose some red goo dripping from just between her chin and bottom lip.

“These two notorious cheats!” Medieval Steve turned to the audience with a booming voice, “don’t want to tell you that they think you are all stuck upon yourselves. They would challenge you to a battle of wits, but they believe you are unarmed!”

Steve spun Wendy slowly once by the heavy chain holding the wooden pillory block she was trapped inside.

“Do you want to tell them what you think of them, or would you rather spin for their amusement?”

“I think they are all pathetic and weak!” Wendy tried to sound tough, but felt a little like she had just quoted an old twisted sister music video.

“Oh dear, so you prefer spinning than engaging these good folks to answer for your crimes?” Steve didn’t accept her insult. “Spin it is!” He gave the girls both a tremendous shove, rotating the wooden squares they were encased in to increase their momentum. There was raucous laughter coming from the crowd. Several new people were walking up to see what the commotion was in the medieval towne square.

“Round and Round they go, where do they stop, nobody knows?”

Jamie wanted to vomit. She hated thrill rides, they gave her motion sickness. Her stomach was nearly empty except for the corn dog she had eaten, and the bottle of water. She could sense it coming up her throat as she was spun rapidly in a circle.

She shut her eyes, blocking out the vertigo as best she could and holding back the sick that was building in her stomach, as the chain overhead rattled and slowed, she started to feel safe.

Then it happened.

She peed uncontrollably as her pillory began to slow, at first it was just a tinkle, but soon it was a full waterworks shooting out from under her skirt like a yellow tail in the night air.

As most were standing farther away, most of the crowd did not notice. Bill and Chris noticed. People in the front row noticed. Medieval Steve noticed.

“As the great Malvolio once said, By my life, this is my lady’s hand: these be her very C’s, her U’s, and her T’s; and thus makes she her great P’s.”  shouted Medieval Steve in his thunderous show voice. He used his hands to suggest where the C and T’s might be, but the “P” well that was dripping down her leg and on to his wooden show stage.

“Don’t worry about it dear, it was just nerves. Happens all the time, and when I say all the time, I mean I think you are the first, but don’t worry about it at all. The show must go on!” He whispered to her, before heading back to the crowd to sell some over ripe tomatoes to people eager to hear the splat sound against the girl’s faces.

Jamie was in tears. She was helpless, and the uncontrollable pissing had sent her over the edge into hysterical crying. To the crowd, it seemed all part of the act, an over the top boo-hooing by what were supposed to be two wicked women. The girls were the villains in this scenario.

Tomatoes began flying, Chris and Bill were firing off well aimed shots, alongside several others who were enjoying the thrill of tossing tomatoes at the helpless girls.

“You can’t scare the piss out of me! I am a Witch, and I’ll cast a spell on you!” Wendy put the focus on herself, calling out “Double, Double, Toil and Trubb” and before she could finish with the “LL” she got a nice, overripe juicy tomato straight in the mouth.

She let out a dribble of piss herself, trying to spin herself around to face her ass towards the audience and let go a stream of urine. She could not muster a deep stream like her daughter had, but the effect was the same. The audience laughed as if they had hit some “pee-reflex” when they hit the woman they thought of as the ‘older witch’.

Wendy’s intended effect was that her daughter stop crying. They locked eyes mid-spin and Jamie mouthed the words “Thank you” acknowledging what her mother did, her eyes still red, she was no longer crying. As she thanked her mom, a tomato slammed into the side of her head, gushing into her hair and ear, covering the right side of her face and dripping down her neck.

As one person spent their last tomato, a new person would emerge to take their place. The crowd had peaked at around twenty people, but usually few remained for more than five minutes before their attention span took them to some new spectacle or entertainment.

Several large high school football players (Wearing their jerseys) were at the booth now. They were talking to Medieval Steve. Jamie couldn’t make out their faces, but they wore the familiar red and white of Cherry Lawn High.

“Cease fire, Cease Fire, once again!” Medieval Steve raised his hands to console the crowd. “I know, I know. I assure you, you’ll have time to fire your ammunition, at the wicked step-mother, and her eldest daughter. Their crimes know no bounds! However, it is this gentlemen’s birthday, and he’s paid a hefty sum, to have his picture taken with our criminals.”

Medieval Steve walked with the hulking high school boys. As they came closer into view, it was Dave, Noah and Thad from the football team. They were grinning like the cat that just ate the canary as they came into view. Jamie could barely see them, her face dripping with tomato juice, her eyes blinking to clear themselves of the red paste.

“Do you mind letting these knights of the pigskin take a photo with you? You look absolutely ravishing!”

They smiled at Jamie, spinning in the humiliating pillory. She would have bet money that none of them had a birthday tonight.

Her Mom knew these boys were from her school, she looked to her daughter.

“Why would I mind, Sir? I am your prisoner, do what you will! But don’t have them stand too close! I bite!” She chomped her teeth to play act being vicious. Her face and voice were so cute, that it only made them laugh.

Dave and Noah flanked her on either side, resting leisurely around her head trapped inside the wooden square. Thad bent down and puckered up as if he were kissing the side of her face to pose for a polaroid picture. They completely ignored Wendy, having no idea it was her mother.

The flash went off, and the picture was done.

Thad followed through with a wet kiss to her cheek, and whispered in here ear, “Wow, see you at school.” One of the boys gave her a pinch to the butt, and they walked away laughing. Jamie could hear them congratulating each other on a lucky find. The jocks didn't stick around after they got their thrill and picture taken. That was more than enough for them.

Wendy knew that picture would be making the rounds. As a junior it meant that she’d never live it down for the next two years of high school.

“I want a picture, too!” Came one voice from the crowd. “Yeah, how about me?” and then another “How much for a picture with them?”. Soon the entire crowd was restlessly asking for a picture.

Wendy was not sure, but the first voice calling for a picture sounded an awful lot like her son.

“You want your photos taken with these miserable wretches?”

“Yeah!” The jocks were ecstatic at finding goody-two-shoes cheer captain Jamie Taylor in such a compromising position. They didn’t know why, didn’t care why. They just wanted to document what they saw.

Medieval Steve was surprised, but pleased. He hadn’t thought about this angle for profit. He hired two simpering oafs to malign and insult the crowd so they would buy over-ripe produce and throw it at them. It occurred to him, he may have struck upon a far more profitable avenue, of helpless damsels and photo opportunities. He also wouldn't have to buy as many tomatoes. Who was he kidding? He also enjoyed watching helpless females writhe in his wooden contraption.

A line had formed, and some brought digital cameras, while others wanted Medieval Steve to take a polaroid for them. He quickly developed a pricing scheme of three dollars for your own camera, five for his.

People stood in between them as if they had just caught and hooked the biggest fish, and they were hung above the dockside like their proud catch of the day. The girls were slowly spinning, helpless and dripping with tomato juice unable to do anything but look completely miserable.

Jamie heard a familiar little boy’s voice from behind her, as she slowly rotated under the wooden beam. “Can I feed her my ice cream?”

“Are you hungry, you ungrateful, wicked miscreants?”

Before Jamie could answer one way or the other, she was just spinning to face Mmedieval Steve. She took a vanilla soft-serve cone to the eye.

“Ooopsie!” He rubbed the ice cream, trying to feed it to her with her finger. She sputtered and tried to keep her mouth closed. There was no telling where his hands had been.

“She doesn’t want it.” He said sounding quite offended Jamie didn’t seem grateful for his offering.

“Of course, only a baaaad person wouldn’t want ice cream!!” Medieval Steve consoled the young man.

“Bad Girl, Bad!” the little boy spanked Jamie’s butt. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but it did send a wave of laughter through the rest of the people in the crowd.

His mother called to him, “Now Duncan, what did we tell you about that?” There was a sound like he was running off in the distance, as the crowd laughed at his attempt at escape from his mom.

Jamie couldn’t see him (She was facing away from the line as she completed her circular rotation), it dawned on her who Duncan was. The little boy who had grabbed a handful of titty when her and her mother were Spongeboob and Sandy Buttcheeks at Madam Chang’s. He probably didn’t even recognize them drowned in tomato chunks, and not in their makeup.

“Hey, how much to spank their butts?” a grown man in the audience said in jest.

“Methink'st thou art a general offence and every man should beat thee!” Medieval Steve pantomimed spanking the two girls, to the uproarious approval of the crowd as he quoted a line from some ancient play.

“Nay, nay, this is a family show, let us have our fun, but the beatings will have to commence at a later time.” Medieval Steve explained he had only been joking.

“Family show? I’ve been standing in line for five minutes, and every time the older one spins with her butt facing us, I’ve been looking at her ass-crack!” the deep voice of the man who had requested spanking them declared.

Wendy shuddered, she hadn’t been able to adjust her tiny skirt, and she thought it might have ridden up on her, the cool night air hitting her pussy.

Medieval Steve adjusted her costume. “A simple wardrobe malfunction, I assure you.” He offered cheerfully, tugging at her skirt to pull it down enough to cover her bottom.

“Spanking! Spanking! Spanking!” Came the willful chant. This time it was started by the deep voiced man, but she could definitely hear Chris and Bill in the crowd of voices.

Medieval Steve smiled, a part of him wanted to do it. He also knew that there was a mixed age group standing around, and he might get in trouble, and frankly he assumed that while the girls had been good sports thus far, they certainly wouldn’t be willing to accept spanks on their asses from strangers.

“Your crimes against nature have been extreme. We’ve pelted you with ripe fruit, and now an angry mob, wants to spank your derrieres. Do you wish to confess your crimes, before I am forced to consider the extensive profit I’d be giving up, when you do?” He was giving them an out, in as dramatic a way as possible. They could simply confess their ‘crimes’ and he could end the show here. It had been less than a half an hour and he’d far exceeded the two hundred dollars he thought he might make.

“No sir, we’ll never confess, until our time is up!” Wendy sounded sure of herself. She didn't want to say these things. This was the final dare of the night, disappointing her husband and son at the arcade, in the fight, and some of the other games and contests they had played was not an option. They had come this far with things on the pillory, they would finish it!

Wendy assumed Jamie felt the same way. If they talk tough, and play along with the dare, even if they do get their asses slapped, they can end on a high note and the ten stars would be theirs.

This response surprised Medieval Steve. “I will ask you again. Confess, and you shall go free, but remain and I cannot be held responsible for your fate at the hand of this, this angry mob!”

Some of the people in line roared like rambunctious Vikings and bandits at the mention of ‘angry mob’ in unison.

She could just make Bill’s face out as she was finishing another rotation. He was sipping his frosty lemonade cup, looking at her impressed. He said nothing one way or the other, his face otherwise expressionless. Chris seemed pleasantly amused.

“They are bluffing!” Wendy roared back in a rowdy witch voice to the angry mob. She was nervous, her legs quivering from the strain of being locked in the pillory by leg, arm and neck. She wasn't going to let the crowd  hear it in her voice, summoning every ounce of courage, blocking out the fears of what may happen next, she committed to her part.

Several of the more boisterous crowd members returned her challenge in guttural, primal growls and pirate “Arrrrr” calls.

Medieval Steve leaned into Wendy’s ear and whispered, “You don’t get a cut of the profits, you realize that?” She nodded she understood, “Cut and run while you can, dear. I am serious, they want to spank you.”

“What?” Wendy said loudly as if she couldn’t believe what Medieval Steve just whispered in her ear. “I don’t believe they are strong enough to spank me. They would never DARE!” I’t wasn’t that she wanted to be spanked by strangers. It was just that she knew if she didn’t play this for all it’s worth when they got home, Bill and Chris would hit VERY hard.

Jamie and Wendy had been spanked hundreds of times in the past week. This would be over their skirts by strangers who didn’t know them, who were unlikely to strike nearly as hard.

For the most part she was right. Medieval Steve ran a short special, ten dollars for one rear, twenty for two. He insisted parents with kids move along, and sold about twelve photos and spanking combo packages.

If Jamie and Wendy had a change of heart about things one would never know it by looking at them. Helpless as they were to free themselves from the pillory, coated in rotten tomato, and slowly spinning, they kept brave faces (for the most part).

The only customers remaining in line were men, usually over thirty years old. They would walk up to get their picture taken, then each give three to five swats on their ass over their skirts. They ranged from playful to almost as hard as Bill hits. The first one through had given five swats, establishing an unspoken limit of no more than five swats per girl, per customer. The guy going next, just assumed five was all he got. Had the first guy through done ten swats, most likely the girls would have received double the spankings since no one spoke up to tell the customers one way or the other.

The man with the deep voice who had suggested this was one of the last to get his picture taken with them.

“Bill, I can’t believe this is your wife!” He shouted at her husband from the stage. She suddenly remembered him from earlier in the night. He had kissed her as Spongeboob, and mentioned he thought she looked like his friend Bill Taylor’s wife. Did he remember her from when she was painted up pretty? If he did, he didn’t say so.

He put his hands on their ass cheeks, palms down rotating them over their skirts. Then he brought down his hands both at the same time in a powerful strike, causing the chain to shake and the girls to be tossed around in the pillory.

“Watch the merchandise!” Medieval Steve warned, he was busily counting out change to the final customer in line.

“One at a time then.” the man proceeded to dole out five very hard open handed swats to Wendy’s right ass cheek, harder than Bill or Chris had ever hit. Medieval Steve hadn’t noticed just how rough and painful these were. The man was using his own body to hold the pillory in place, to keep the chain from shaking.

Wendy didn’t cry out, but she didn’t count either. Had she not had the amount of hard spankings she had endured all week, she would have most certainly screamed in agony.

“Bill, are you sure you are cool with me spanking your daughter?” the man turned to ask, after finishing with Wendy.

“Ask her, not me.” Bill yelled his reply.

“You look familiar, did I run into you earlier tonight?” The man asked Jamie, he was rubbing his hand on her ass cheek in a circular motion as if ‘warming up her butt’.

“Yes Sir, I believe you kissed my mom.” Jamie admitted. She had endured the other spankings without breaking a sweat. She had no reason to suspect this would be any different.

He had no reason to believe that the back of her skirt was piss, and not tomato drippings, since he hadn’t been present when she had her accident. The thought of him sniffing his hand later, secretly amused Jamie for some reason.

“I thought that was you two! You get around working the fair. Can I buy a kiss now as well?” he almost begged.

“Sorry Sir, we aren’t selling those anymore, just spankings to naughty girls.” Jamie tried to sound pathetic, but all she managed to do was sound sexy and inviting.

“YOU LITTLE” –SMACK- “TEASE!” the chain rattled once again, alerting Medieval Steve.

“Sir, I’ll have you take care, not to spank so hard”

“What? This is a scam, I paid to spank their asses, not pat their rears!” he sounded indignant.

“It’s okay Sir, he didn’t hurt me. I doubt he could.” Jamie was lying. The strike felt like what she imagined “Mother-in-law” the wooden mallet would feel like reverberating through her body. The strike had electrified every nerve in her already over-stimulated body.

“Lay on, then, but no more than 4 more, or you’ll pay for a second thrashing.” Medieval Steve pointed in warning.

The man cocked his arm above his hand, and brought it crashing down on her ass cheek hard, sending ripples through her ass muscles, as the well-rounded ass flattened ever so slightly under the pressure of his strong arm and reverted back to its original shape.

“That’s two sir, thank you, may I have another?” Jamie grunted the words that her brother made her say during spanking sessions.

When her brother had made her say those words, it had been humiliating for her and submissive in tone. When she said them just now, it was more like a challenge or a taunt.

He drove a third strike down on her ass, and she repeated her request, for the fourth and fifth strike. She didn’t want him to see that her ass had probably gone from rosy red, to yellow-purple from the painful strikes. That had happened several times at home, but usually after an even longer session. Instead, she smiled at him and said, “Thank you Sir.”  There was a trace of defiance in how he said it, leaving him dissatisfied.

Bill hopped up on the wooden platform when the man was finished. The man was spent, he had put all his effort into striking her ass, and she hadn’t cried out. He felt denied, even though neither girl had tried to stop him in any way from striking them.

“Ted, what you want to do is angle her so her legs are wide spread, so you can spank the inside of her thighs.” He took a liberty with his daughter, spreading her leg for him so that only the two men could see. He made no effort to hide what he was saying, speaking as casually as if he were giving him a tip to improve his golf swing. “The nerves in their butt muscles have probably gone numb after all these spankings, watch this.”

He dug the fingernails of his left hand into the inside of her delicate thigh, and then used his right to deliver a powerful and satisfying swat to just below her cunt.

“Owie!!” Jamie let out a very real yelp of pain, before answering “Thank you Sir, may I have another.”

Ted said nothing, he didn’t mention that he could see Jamie’s pussy from that angle, he just nodded, eyes wide.

Bill had only wanted to demonstrate one swat, telling his daughter, “No you may not, one is enough.” As if he were refusing her an extra dessert at dinner.

“You’ve one more spanking customer, I guess we have about twenty more minutes left, back to tomatoes?” Bill asked Medieval Steve. He was energized and excited to continue.

The final customer was delivering his swats to Wendy. Medieval Steve looked at Bill incredulously. “I don’t know who you are, friend.” He dropped all pretenses of a medieval savoir faire and manner. “I’ve made more than I could have expected, and I think your girls are worn out. How about we stop now?”

“Wenches, would you like to be let down and finish twenty minutes early?” Bill put it to them.

“No Sir” Jamie was the first to say it, the tomato drying on her brow. “We agreed to an hour, we’ll finish it out.” Her leg muscle was spasming, being locked in the pillory by her feet and arms was causing her considerable pain, the swats hadn’t helped.

“Alright then, if there are no more good lords who wish to spank the ladies, then I suppose I should see what business I can drum up.” Medieval Steve said casually before nearly bumping into Uncle Creepy.

“Where did you come from?”

He was holding a crumpled twenty dollar bill, to pay to spank the girls.

“He is with us.” Bill explained. He was pleased not to be the only one who had not turned around and been shocked to see his ugly, quiet mug looking back.

“Oh, then I suppose it is gratis.” Medieval Steve was not going to charge them to spank the girls they brought to his show.

Uncle Creepy continued to hold the twenty out.

“Alright, I will take your money.”

Uncle Creepy delivered five to Wendy. She answered each swat with, “Thank you Sir, please may I have another.” counting him up to five. He did Jamie the same way.

If he was satisfied or in any way moved by his actions, looking at his stony expressionless face, you could not tell. Looking at his polyester pants, you could see the outline of his dick fully erect.

“Hell is empty, and all the devils are here.” Medieval Steve sighed, watching the two helpless girls continue to spin, dripping from tomato goo, and the three men that escorted them here. He wasn’t sure the game they were playing, but he had profited tidily from it.

He managed to summon a small audience, never more than five to six people as they tossed tomatoes at the girls for the final twenty minutes, only adding to their misery. The girls politely remained good target practice. They had used up whatever confidence they had to shout contempt at the crowd during the spankings they received. They mostly kept their mouths shut.

Medieval Steve even called a cease fire, and put an over-ripe fat, juicy tomato into each of their mouths for them to bite down on like a gag. They looked completely pathetic from a distance, like stuffed pigs with apples in their mouths, except instead of lying trussed up on a dinner table, they were trussed up vertically.  The actors he usually used would taunt and tease the crowd and since the girls weren’t, it made sense to him that they appear to be silenced as “Shrewful nags.”

“Silence is golden, duct tape is silver, and when that is not available, tomatoes be red!” He said with flourish to the amused group of customers playing out the end of the night throwing tomatoes at the helpless girls. Almost all of whom had no way to know they weren’t paid employees of the fair.

Not too far away from the spectacle, the Jenkin’s family was walking out of the fair. Gerald wanted to check out Medieval towne, but there hadn’t been enough time. His parents also had absolutly no interest in feeding into their son’s sword and sorcery interests. “Look, tomato throwing, c’mon!” Gerald pleaded.

“Oh please! Those girls on that stage are even trampier than the Taylors.” His mom scolded him to keep walking towards the exit of the fair.

She grumbled to her husband “Can you believe the audacity of the Taylor Women, I tell you, I don’t think she had a stitch on, but that little skirt.” She grumbled to her husband.

Bradley junior, took one last forlorn look over his shoulder at the women on the stage as they left Medieval Towne and wondered. He just shook his head and laughed, putting his arm around his parents and little brother, walking them hurriedly to the exit.

The Family Feud III

Chapter Fifteen
Jamie's E-Journal

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 36
Get out of jail cards: 1
JAMIE: 39
Get out of jail cards: 1

The following is excerpted from Jamie Taylor’s E-Journal account of a typical day in her life. It is presented to you un-edited or redacted. This account is Jamie’s perspective of events that took place on the Friday of her first week of training. We begin shortly after Jamie and her mother complete their final dare at the County Fair on Thursday Night. It is approximately 1:30AM to 2:00 AM.

“The Final Test, that of Witchcraft! Why hadn’t I thought of this before incarcerating them in this manner?” Medieval Steve pretended to think out loud to the small but determined crowd of onlookers. He stood behind me and my mother and dumped ice cold water on our heads, which caused me to scream in shock and drop the tomato he had stuffed in my mouth.

I didn’t scream because the ice was so cold. I had taken far worse just a few minutes earlier. It was just that I didn’t expect him to upturn an entire chest of ice water over my head from behind me like that. Everyone laughed at our reaction, I have to admit thinking back on it, it probably looked pretty funny.

I haven’t seen the pictures my brother took, but from what I understand he snapped some right at the perfect moment when the water was cascading down our shoulders and drenching us, when our mouths sprung open in surprise. I am sure he would say something like “4 dollars for a lemon slushee, 6 dollars for a fair ticket, your sister getting soaked by ice water, priceless. For everything else, there is Master Chris”.

I am sure he would say something like that, because that is what he did say after we were released from the wooden pillory. The ice water had washed most of the tomato goop off us, but we would need a good shower to get it all out from behind our ears, and in our hair and all the places tomato goop likes to hide. My mother and I massaged our aching muscles, nearly collapsing after the experience.

She smiled at me and tried as she so often did to help me remain calm and confident. “People at my gym, would pay good money for an inversion therapy like that one. That was some work out.”

I smiled back as I so often did, to help my mother remain calm and confident. I could help with her fears by  taking things in stride. We had a good support system between the two of us, that way. If the guys were going to throw something at us, at least we had each other and that made it much easier to face.

Medieval Steve gave us both carnations, the cheap kind that you buy for Sadie Hawkin’s dance to send to a boy you like as an invitation to the dance. We both smiled graciously at him and did our curtsy. It seemed ridiculous, considering we were soaked to the bone, but I did mine flawlessly.

Not that it mattered, the pervert had his eyes glued to how the water clung to my chest and how my wet half-shirt only served to outline my boobs.

I pretended to be flattered at his interest and we headed for the exit. The fair would be closing soon and everyone was making their way to the one and only entrance. Dad took one look at how the water made our shirts see-through and joked they probably could have done a wet t-shirt contest. There seemed to be no shortage of dares and games they could have come up with.

I was surprised at their creativity, but not their sadism. Over the last week, I had come to the conclusion that almost all men were pigs, and a lot of girls were too. It seemed to amuse people to humiliate and laugh at others, even their loved ones or closest friends. Girls could be the most insidious, their back biting betrayals were far less obvious than anything most guys can think up. To your face, they are smiling, but behind your back they are stabbing.

No one said a word to us about being all wet as we left the fair. There were water flume rides, people probably assumed we had the misfortune of being caught in a giant splash. They didn’t say anything, but they certainly did gawk. I could tell without looking down that my nipples were hard and that the new piercings were poking through my wet half-shirt. I could tell in part because I could see my mother’s was too.

I could also tell because of all the strange sensations that I hadn’t mentioned to my parents or brother last night. There was no doubt I had some kind of full, complete orgasm on the floor of Mikey’s Gazebo. It was a sensual but brutally crushing wave of something I have no words to describe. That is ironic since I am trying to use words to describe them.

If I had to pick some words, I might say it felt like a rush of tingles that kept building and building, almost like I had to pee, but some sort of wave of pleasure. That would be a cop out though. That in no way says enough to explain it. If I could describe lighting water on fire, and watching it burn, I could probably do a better job of the intense feelings that weren’t just in my cunt.

They were all over. Even my underarms throbbed. It is like there must be some sort of nerve center in there, because I feel like I may have pulled a muscle under each of my arms. They throbbed with electrical pulse. My nipples would get hard at seemingly random times. My knees would shake, my ass would quiver.

The hood of my clit, that was now connected to my brain in a way I never thought possible. It could have been a third eye,  or a sixth sense. It stood at attention, yanked out of the inside of my body for the first time, unable to hide back inside of me, like a turtle naturally wanting to go back in it’s shell. The piercing kept it pulled out and hard. It felt like what having a tiny cock must feel like, except every nerve ending that was on the inside of me, was magnified and pulled out of me. Every touch, every slap, every sensation, caused me to get wet or to wince.

I had done a fairly good job of hiding it, I think. I knew that Chris and Dad wondered what I had been feeling since I spazzed out on the gazebo, but I was too embarrassed to talk about it unless they prompted me too. I would  be honest, I am an honest person, and I will use words like “Cunt” and “Asshole” because that is part of the rules to the game they made me play. Volunteering things? No, that is between me and my journal.

I trust I am the only one reading this journal, and if you aren’t me, then you must be a filthy pervert to want to invade the private, most intimate thoughts of a teenage girl. There is nothing I say that will stop you, so read on if you must.

When I was little I would write things in my journal like “If you’re reading this, I’ve wrote my journal in poison ink, and there is no antidote, ahahahah”, but as this is an e-journal, and I am not nine anymore, I don’t think that will fool anyone. J

I hadn’t seen Brad Jenkins on the way out of the fair, which was just as well. I was soaking wet and looking pathetic. I don’t know what made me so interested in him, but I will admit that I scanned the crowd for signs he was among them.

When my Dad got us to the parking lot, it was time for us to separate from Uncle Creepy, the stalker that had followed us around without saying almost a word all night. He whispered to me on three to “make a break for the truck” and then when he counted three, we all ran for it.

I was dodging between trucks, running hard. I wasn’t sure where he parked, but the parking lot was clearing out and I would find it. I ran into my mom, she was smiling mischievously over ditching Uncle Creepy. I returned her grin with one of my own. She was in great shape, neither of us were tired, but when we finally made it to the truck Dad and Chris were panting and exhausted.

They had better map sense than us, and had made a bee-line for the truck. So did Uncle Creepy; because he was standing right there when we reached my Dad’s Ford Ranger. He was quiet, not breathing hard, standing there without any sort of expression, his eyes reminded me of a puppy dog begging to be taken home.

Chris asked my dad “Please can we take him with us?”

“No Son, this will just be like Milton. You won’t take care of him, you won’t pick up after him, you won’t feed him.” It was hard to tell if my Dad was being serious, or joking that Uncle Creepy would be like the Goldfish my brother let die when he was little. I laughed anyway, because it was funny how he said it.

“You think this is funny?” My Dad turned to me, getting serious.

“No Sir” I said, but I quickly changed my answer to, “Yes Sir, I suppose it kind of is.” if I was going to be completely honest.

He insisted me and my mom undress in the parking lot (Which was really just a grassy field) because he didn’t want us getting his truck all wet with our clothes. Then he got us pinned down on all fours in the bed of his pickup, using duct tape and twine to hold us in place.

“You want these flowers?” He asked us, but we were already gagged so all he could hear was our murmurs. He took that for a yes. I couldn’t see him, but I think it was my Dad who held my ass cheeks apart and slid four inches of the flower stem into my already sore asshole. “You can fertilize it with some of your whore shit until we get home!” He sounded angry, but I think he was trying to make a cruel joke. It seemed he was still angry about the tattoo.

I didn’t know what to think about the tattoos my Mom and I had. I had wanted to get one because she was getting one. Then once I got it, I instantly regretted it. Okay, that isn’t fair. I wouldn’t say I had made up my mind at all one way or the other. I had intensely mixed feelings about the fact that I could no longer go back to being innocent Jamie, even after the training was over, and how that might affect me later in life.

I suppose because I am a teenager, everyone expects to me to say, "I was like clueless and didn't know what to think about the tattoos my Mom and I had, for realz. I had 0nly wanted to get 1 'cuz she was like totally getting one, you know? Then once I got it, I was like, OMG! What the fuck had I done?"
 I am also an honors student, and almost a grown up. So give me some credit. I mean like, you know? OMG. J

If I were being graded on my paper by my English teacher (who is also dreamy),  he would probably write in red letters across this “I know it is a diary, but the number of "I"s was actually distracting to me.”. I can’t help it, these are my internal thoughts,  and I guess I think mostly about me. Maybe I really am a selfish cunt, like Dad says.

It would be impossible for me to want to read my journal later (When I am way old, like forty)  if it were written like all my Facebook status updates. I just write those “OMFG, WUT UP?” comments to my friends so I don’t seem like a total nerd.

I could get the tattoo removed, but in a strange way, it felt like a badge of honor, a war wound, something you get for bravery under fire. I know that probably would not make sense to someone who just sees a nasty tattoo and thinks “Slutty girl who wants everyone to know she is a slut”. It wasn’t that to me, but it was at the same time.

The ride home was completely silent. We had been gagged with the panties my Dad had insisted we keep using all week. Cum-stains and worse had dried on the horrible rags that were in my mouth, but there would be no spitting it out. The duct tape ensured that.

I was not sure what my Dad had said to Uncle Creepy to get rid of him, but when we got home I didn’t see him. I learned that with Uncle Creepy, just because you can’t see him, doesn’t mean he can’t see you. Lol.

It was late at night in my neighborhood, without a soul stirring on the darkened street. Walking into the house completely naked from the back of the truck was a piece of cake. It wasn’t like when they made me lug all the bags of trash out of the garage in broad daylight wearing only a thong bikini. It seemed like that was the day everyone wanted to mow their lawn, water it, or walk up and down the street and wave hello to me.

Once we were inside, there wasn’t much of a ceremony. A quick talk from my dad while we were still gagged. He agreed new rules would be coming, and that we had done a fantastic job amusing them. I hate to admit I was proud of myself to hear that. It’s always nice to hear praise, although if you know what disgusting things I had to do to get that praise, there is a sickening twist to it that added to my shame.

He shook some gold stars in a plastic box, and announced we had both earned the full ten. He wasn’t going to give all ten to us, but the final dare put us over the top. My mom and I thanked them both profusely, and kissed their bare but sweaty feet. Then we got to put the stars on our progress chart in the kitchen, the extra ten really gave me hope this ordeal would soon be over.

They made us sleep with the flower stems up our ass. They tied my collar to about six inches from my mom’s, making us sleep face to face, tied us wrist to wrist, and ankle to ankle, and left us on the floor in the living room. If that was supposed to scare me, it had not. I had slept in even worse positions.

Sleep I did, the sleep of the dead. It was as soon as I shut my eyes, that I felt my brother kicking my bare ass to wake me. “Get up sleepy head!”

It used to be me above him, waking him up! The world had turned upside down this past week. He was unbinding my arms, I didn’t feel like I had any sleep at all, but sure enough it was already 5:30 and time for my morning ritual.

Like every morning, I am surprised that Chris is up and chipper. It is so unlike him. He was either trying to prove to dad he can be very responsible keeping us in line, or he has been taking some new vitamin called “Vitamin I enjoy kicking my Sister in the ass”. His being chipper, helps me to motivate myself to get awake. I am certainly not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me groggily drag my ass around in the morning like he used to do when we were the boss of him (and before that, even).

The first thing he did was let us go upstairs on all fours. He made me beg to take the flower stem out of my asshole. I let him have a double-dose of my eye flutters, and pouty lip as I begged “Please Sir, Please take the flower stem out of my delicate asshole, I can’t go to school like this. It hurts so bad!”. I gave him a small hint of a lisp, like I was using baby talk. He really seemed to enjoy that.

I was first to use the litter box. The sand was fresh and minty smelling, because we change it so frequently. I may never get used to pissing in front of people, as I let out my hot morning stream, I was reminded of how sick to my stomach I felt when my nerves buckled the night before and I pissed myself in the pillory. In case I HAD forgot my shameful display, my brother was looming over me to remind me.

“I liked when you pissed last night to amuse us, at Medieval Steve’s.”

“Oh thank you Sir” I let him believe I had done it on purpose to humiliate ourselves. What did it matter? If he got a thrill out of the idea I would do that on purpose, I’d let him have his fun. I hadn’t had a chance to ask my mom why she pissed right after I did. I wasn’t sure if it was just another strange coincidence, or more that she was just trying to copy me because she thought I did it on purpose too. I had just smiled at her, because she gave me her warm confident smile as she let her piss drip right there in front of everyone.

I am so impressed with my mom’s courage. It never ceases to amaze me that no matter how hard they make it for us she always absorbs whatever they can throw at her. I shudder to think what it would have been like if we weren’t in this together. She has been my rock in this storm.

I sometimes wonder if I impress her the same way. I try to step up to the plate and do anything she will do, and sometimes she looks at me with an expression I can’t decipher.  It is like she doesn’t want me to try as hard as she does. The tattoo and piercing was probably the most awkward example, it was almost as if she was daring me to get the tattoo because she was going to insist on going first.

I guess you could also look at it as reverse psychology, maybe she wanted to show me how awful it was going to be, and then encourage me to do it, so that I wouldn’t do it. That is kind of a convoluted logic though.

It doesn’t matter now, we both have Whore squarely written on our asses in permanent ink. When I finished my morning squat, I watched my mother take her morning shit and piss in the same bowl I just used as I was required to do. My attention wasn’t on the disgusting drop crinkling like a curly-q out of her ass, it was on the tattoo. In the light, it was majestic.

The lettering was filled with angels, demons, and okay, there were lots of tits, and dicks and naked people as well. It was almost like every letter gave you some insight into the madness that must be the churn of hell and wickedness. Skulls, dragons,  you could study the letters for a while and see all sorts of images depicted into the letters as part of the overall image. If I was going to have a tattoo, at least  I had an epic one.

This was no butterfly or unicorn. This was some kind of bad ass, bad girl tattoo. I couldn’t see mine, but I knew it was just as intense as my mom’s was.

We showered together as we always did. Chris likes us to wash each other, so we pretend to be a little lezzy with each other, clean each other's butt and tits, it's kind of a game to see if we can make Chris blush. Then we are permitted only a few minutes to straighten our hair, and get our makeup on. We had gotten much better about using our time wisely. Chris had no idea how long it takes for a straightening iron to actually heat up, so he constantly rushed us to finish sooner, slapping our asses, and yelling at us.

In a way, I should really thank him. I used to have to get up a full hour earlier to just get ready on my own. He had managed to make me pick only the most essential tasks, and get those down to the most efficient. We multi-tasked, helping each other get ready in the morning.

Chris didn’t stay the entire time, he would walk in and out doing whatever it is he does in the morning. This gave me and my Mom a little quiet time to talk.

“That was something last night, huh?” I asked her.

“You aren’t kidding, my legs are still sore.”

Mine weren’t, but I agreed with her. I didn’t want her to feel old, even though she must be at least forty. I can’t imagine what I’ll be like at Forty. I guess I will be old. 

Maybe like my mom, I won’t think forty is so old when I am that age. It is hard to imagine that day ever coming. I’ve got plenty of years until then.

We made some more small talk, but Chris kept walking in and he would sentence us an infraction if he caught us talking out of turn when we should be getting ready, so we zipped our lips and focused on getting ready. If he gave us an infraction, we probably wouldn’t have time to eat anything.

We had to go down stairs on all fours, wearing only our cat collars. Mine was so gross, and sweaty. The leather cover was coming off and almost all the plastic diamond studs had popped off.  I wish Dad would buy me a new one. I knew better than to sound greedy for asking for one.

We were allowed to stand up and make the guys pancakes and bacon. It smelled good. I had been eating very healthy for so long, I had forgotten how good fatty,  unhealthy food smells. I suppose that is why people like Chris eat it. If it tasted the same as healthy food, they would just pick healthy.

My mom starts to serve my Dad and Chris their breakfast. This is the point where my Dad orders me to get on all fours and bring back our shaving stuff. This always confuses me. He seems to want us to hurry up and be more efficient, but then it’s almost like he makes the more process more difficult than it has to be.

I crawl up the stairs on all fours as quickly as I can. Then I pick up a small white bucket containing our shaving stuff, put it in my teeth then crawl down the stairs to the kitchen. I understand they want to supervise us shaving while they eat, but why not have me bring it down with us on our first trip from the bathroom?

I don’t say anything about it. It isn’t like my Dad wants to hear my suggestions. He wants to see me and my mom fill a bowl of water, and shave each other slowly and tenderly. The piercings add a whole new of ‘ick’ to me this morning.

I had grown used to lifting my mom’s cunt lips and pulling them apart to shave her, adjusting for her rings. This time when she shaved me, she would be doing the same and I was already embarrassed enough that my nipples were standing up like two fully erect dicks. The fact that my poor clit hood was now at attention and pulled out was only made worse by the knowledge that when it was my turn to be shaved, my Mom would be adjusting me, spreading me with my ring.

I suppress the desire to coo and let the men see I am really enjoying the touches. This is disgusting and if they think I am getting off on being kept this way, they'll think I am disgusting. I am sure they probably do, they've seen me spread my cheeks and take a massive shit. I still don't want to give them the satisfaction of watching me orgasm all over the floor, so I do my level best to hide my bodies involuntary signs of esctasy.

We start on each other’s legs, then do each other’s ass cheeks. Dad likes us to say cunt and ass, and it still feels dirty every time I do. I ask “Mom, would you mind pulling your ass cheeks apart” and aside from Chris’s giggles, I feel like I’ve asked some shamefully, perverted thing. I try to say it in as normal and sweet a voice as I can, as if I am asking her to pass the butter. It always sounds so awkward and perverted.

We do each other’s armpits. Today, when she did mine, they were tender from last night. I accidentally touched my pussy. I don’t know why, my hand just sprung to my clit hood when my mother started shaving me under the arm.

They didn’t punish me. I was surprised. Usually, if one of us absent mindedly touches our own cunts, it’s an immediate infraction. Instead, they seem to be talking about something. I wasn’t sure what, probably the new rules my Dad had in mind for us.

I wanted to whisper to my mom to ask her if she thought this was a test. Were they going to give me a correction if I didn’t come clean and admit I had done something wrong? I kept wondering quietly while we shaved each other, if my Dad was going to shout “AH-HA, Jamie Taylor! You lying cheat! You played with your clit without being told, and you didn’t ask for punishment. Now you will get a correction!” and I would be late for school, and everything.

They didn’t, so they must have not noticed. I couldn’t help but beat myself over breaking the rule. It felt worse than being punished, to take joy in having gotten away with wrong-doing. God, I am such a goody-two-shoes like everyone says. I wonder if bad girls ever care if they break the rules, or they just do it?

I heard a girl in the bathroom once say “I never TRY anything, I just DO it…wanna try me?” She sounded so bad ass. She was smoking, and talking with her other bad girl friends. They did not like a cheerleader being in there with them while they  smoke. This was before I knew most of the cheerleaders were secret sluts themselves. I thought we were all popular because we were the good girls who brought the school spirit.

Once we had shaved, My dad had us take Inspection position one. It had become such a routine, I almost didn’t need to wait for his order. Wouldn’t that have been funny? I just stand up and assume the position perfectly, legs shoulder width apart, tits out, head straight, pull my ass cheeks apart and wait?

I don’t know what he would do if I anticipated his orders like that. He probably wouldn’t laugh though.

My brother inspected us both. He took his finger and played with my asshole, driving it in and out twice. “I don’t feel any turd burgers in there. You did a good job shitting this morning.”

It felt so stupid thanking him for telling me I had emptied my bowels. I knew I had completely emptied myself over the litter box. The first few days I had been holding it in. I could piss, but I would have sooner explode than taking a shit in front of anyone. It was so disgusting to picture what it must look like to him. A nasty brown turd exploding from my back side.  Necessity required I get used to the idea, as I would be supervised any time I was ever relieving myself, and once I saw my mom do it, I softened to the idea.

It didn’t gross out Chris. A fact that shouldn’t surprise me. He seemed to delight in it. He’d even name my turds. “That one is Softie McGoo, and this one is Mr. Loggerstein.” I have to admit, I laughed when he made me address them and say “Hello Softie McGoo and Mr.Loggerstein, I am sorry to have to say goodbye to you now. You’ve been with me for so long.” He could be ridiculously silly at times, but you know I don’t think I could have made it through this without him.

He could make me laugh at the most serious situations, and keep me from  freaking out. I didn’t say that to him of course. How could I, an honors student, cheer leader and serious girl all around tell someone, even her brother, that his silly humor was actually helping her? Besides, if I encouraged him he’d probably either stop entirely, since his goal was to humiliate me. He was doing it not too much, not too little. Just the right amount.

My Dad finally decided we were inspected enough.  Chris intentionally checked my mouth last, after he finished our cunts and asses. This was his way of sticking his dirty fingers into our mouth. A mixture of butt sweat, pussy juice and bacon grease. He also looked in our ears, slapped our tits, commented on how wide our nipples were, and generally tried to make it sound like this was more than just a formalized chance to grope us before school.

He didn’t say anything about how wet my pussy was this morning. It was much more moist than I wished I was. I could smell my own musky smell, which must have made it hard for them to finish their breakfast. If it had, they had shown no signs of it. They wolfed their food down quickly and efficiently.

This is when we have to do my least favorite thing of the entire morning. “May we take out your ginomrous cocks, and play with them for you, Sir?” I say with my mother. They have started to pretend like this is a privilege that they will begrudgingly accept from us. Even though it was their idea we ask, and the only way we are going to get to eat.

We won't be fed until we have made them cum. We have to keep saying “Taylor men cum first”. It feels so creepy taking my Dad's cock out. I don't mind on Chris as much but either way this is one of the parts I dislike most about being trained. We stand there and wait for them to decide which one of us they want, and I put on my dutiful daughter face and kneel.

Today it was Dad.

“Thank you Sir, I look forward to beating you off, this morning”

He answers with his mouth full of bacon and eggs, “I hope you jack me off better than you cook.”

His dick isn't even hard yet. I've been taught to spit on it, to get it wet. This is one of the more embarrassing parts of it. Drooling slobber on to a hard cock. I pretend to be eager to make up for my bad cooking, when it's really Mom who did most of the cooking, I just helped.

I use one hand, then both hands when he is fully erect. He shows me how he wants it, the pacing. The tip of his dick is already wet and sticky. His is about an inch shorter than Chris's cock. It's sad I know that, right?

“You are in a hurry, so you can fill your face with food, aren't you selfish twat?”

Every time he asks this question, I've discovered “Yes Sir” gets me a slap to the face, and “No Sir” gets me a slap to the ass and called a little liar.

I don't know why this is (Probably more of them keeping me in the dark) but they like to shoot their loads into mason jars. I think it has something to do with Mom making them cum into them when they were our slaves.

I secretly picture me being boss of them again. They are doing this for me, so that I can control them, make them more docile. I don't have to touch their 'filthy cocks'. If I had it to do over again, I would probably have been a truly cruel dominatrix. I didn't know all the things we could make them do when we were the ones in charge. Kneeling on the cold tile floor, watching their evil grins, it looks like they are definitely having fun as the dominators.

The secret fantasy helps me keep a smile on my face. I probably look like a blonde idiot with a big goofy smile, but  I doubt they would like me looking all serious and mean. My mom does her best to smile too, but I bet my smile looks more natural. I am told I've been told in the past I have one of those 'Osmond Smiles'. I hope that is a complement.

After my Dad cums, he grabs my hair and my shoulder and squeezes, his legs get tight, and he shuts his eyes. He starts to pump himself, taking his dick away from me. I just watch as he squizzes his white milk into the mason jar I am holding up for him.

I suppose my Mom washes them out, while I go to feed Rosco. I am not sure which is the worst task. I have to race naked and barefoot outside to feed Rosco (before we get fed). He is a male after all and part of the Taylor family. I check on his water and thank my lucky stars we have a privacy fence.

Once I am done, I race back into the house and she has the mason jars squeaky clean, and our lunches packed. I suppose of the two tasks, mine is probably better since I am guessing they make her clean out the jars of cum with her fingers or something.

Our packed lunch is seldom anything good. One morning they made us sit on a banana and smush it with our asses. I won't know until lunch time what was chosen for me to eat. Even though it is seldom good, I have to admit I kind of like the surprise. Isn't that freaky?  There is something fun about not knowing for a few hours, what they have planned.

Now that everything but getting dressed and eating is out of the way (and if we were out of time we'd just get dressed). Since we have just a little bit of time, my Dad lets us eat. One of the hidden benefits of jerking them off, is for a short period of time they are laid back and really nice, or they will even take a nap. It doesn't seem to last long, but right now they are being nice. So they don't make us grovel and show super gratitude.

I would have groveled and shown gratitude, if they had given me direction to do so. Instead, their eyes just seem to glaze over and they grant permission to eat.

Usually they made us eat hot dogs together, but today it was scraps.

Dad and Chris scraped their plates onto a single dish. Eggs, Toast, and Bacon fat. “Let’s not waste this good chow.” My Dad insisted with a smile.

This is where they expect us to get on all fours and lap it up like dogs. Only my face isn’t shaped like a dog, so I end up with scrambled egg on my nose, which ruins my makeup. I am absolutely famished though, so I don’t care about it. I try to leave half for my mom, but she seems like she isn’t hungry, so she doesn’t take all of her half.

I can't begin to describe how gross it is to bump heads with my mom and try to scarf down food like a dog on all fours. If you can imagine that, now imagine your brother and father are laughing their asses off, watching your pussy and ass from behind as you do. If you can't imagine that, then consider yourself lucky. I will never be able to forget the experience.

My dad ends up taking about a third of the food, and tosses it into the garbage. “Too bad you bitches are too slow, you’ve got to get cuffed and dressed for school.”

The final step in the morning, after wiping the scrambled egg bits out of the side of my mouth is to go into the living room to be dressed. They have a “Bitch Box” for us, it’s a cardboard box full of the trashiest clothes you can imagine. Our outfits from the night before are still in there, soaking wet and covered in tomato. I am positive they’ll make us wear those.

“Jamie gets to wear her cheer outfit!” My Dad announces.  He gives me special treatment, I know that. I don’t know why. I know something is going on though. He doesn’t treat me as harshly as my Mom. This is one of those times, because he sends my mom outside with a rubber ball gag, handcuffed and a towel wrapped around her, holding her clothes and sack lunch. “You can wait for Steve outside, and dress in the car”. She can't argue back (especially with a red rubber ball making her drool). Her eyes plead no. She steps outside anyway, that is real bravery!

Compared to what my mom and I normally wear, the cheer leading outfit, even with the spanks cut out of the bottom is pretty modest. Granted, I used to wear this every Friday when there is a game and it wasn't 'special treatment' then. It just feels like he is making an exception for me to let me wear the uniform. This and some other things he has done, make me believe he is babying me, and making my Mom go through worse.

This isn’t Medieval Steve, this is Work Steve. He drives a sports car, and is probably closer to my age than he is to my Mom’s age. I don’t know why he is in charge of her, or driving her to work, because I think they are keeping me in the dark intentionally about it. That is just a theory though, so don’t think I am a conspiracy nut or anything.

Work Steve is good looking and seems like he may even have the hots for me. I met him yesterday and he kept giving me this stare like he wanted me. Admittedly, since I started this training I’ve been getting that stare from almost everyone, or am at least more painfully aware of that stare. I just didn’t expect it from such a handsome, older guy.

Speaking of handsome older guys, I can’t stop thinking about Brad Jenkins. Gerald’s good looking brother. Will Gerald grow up to look that cool? Did Brad look that dweeby when he was Gerald’s age? Probably not.

Anyway, I present my hands to my brother so that he can slap handcuffs on me. I am wearing my red and white uniform, except naturally the spanks that offer any modesty at all have been cut out. Technically, if the teachers even enforced dress code, the skirts they issue violate their own rules about how short skirts can be. Teachers don’t seem to care, I don’t blame them, there are too many other things to worry about.

He marches me to the bus stop, giving me my morning affirmations. Let me see if I can remember exactly how it went.

“Do you know why you are in handcuffs, sis?”

“Yes Sir, because you are supervising me on the way to school, and you can’t see my hands while I carry our books and lunches.”

“Good answer, but also because you are my little bitch. Today, you cannot be rented out after school, because you’ve got the game. That is two days in a row you cost me money. So I am going to keep you cuffed even on the bus, how do you feel about that?”

“I’d rather you didn’t Sir? People are already talking about us, that I am your slave. They think we are having sex, this will only make the rumors worse.”

“You are such a prideful bitch, always worried about what others think!” he said, I had to admit he was right. I could not help but worry about other people’s feelings. This is my true nature.

“You could probably rent me out after the game!” I offered to him hopefully. His friends didn’t move in the same circles as my friends, so their nights were usually over by 10 or 11pm. “There is a party tonight, I could escort one of your friends there.”

“Okay fine, you saved your bacon this time.” He slapped me on the butt, and unlocked my cuffs a short distance from the bus stop. “Don’t think because you are offering to bring one of my friends to a cool kids party, that means I will be soft on you.”

“I know you won’t, Sir. You are just having your fun, and keeping me in line.” I said bravely to him. I secretly meant he was having fun by keeping me in line, but the other way didn’t sound as naughty. I can't deny that sometimes I pick the more provocative option, but right now I felt like being more safe.

He kept me doing affirmations until the school bus arrived. They did help me to accept things as they had become. In cheer if you keep chanting “Keep trying! Get those yards back”, I have to believe if the football players could hear us over the maddening crowd and through their padded helmets, it would help them to try harder and get those yards back.

Now that I say it like that, it is probably a bad example. Saying it myself, saying “I will” or “I am”, using words like this to take ownership of my behavior and make commitments had been affecting me in subtle ways.

“I will not be a lazy bitch, Sir.”

“I will be a good sister, and not a lazy whore, Sir.”

“I do understand why you have to make fun of all my shortcomings. It makes me want to stop doing them, to be better, Sir. Thank you.”

We stepped on the bus when it finally arrived. The last few days, Chris had been insisting I ask to sit on someone’s lap. This would give him an idea who might be open to dating me. Here is how it would go.

“Hello Sir, there aren’t many seats left, do you mind if I sit on your lap?”

“Uh what?” as the nerdy, quiet kid became intimidated or nervous.

“There aren’t many seats on the bus, I know this is an imposition, but can I just sit on your lap, Sir?” I would repeat myself.

No one has turned me down yet on my offer, even if there are clearly a few open seats some place nearby.

“Thank you so much, Sir”. There are potholes just down the street from my house. That is where I wrecked my mom’s car actually.  I sometimes wonder what the Griffin brother’s did with Mom's car after they towed it.

Every time we hit those bumps, I end up flying up and this is where I am supposed to grind on his lap. It usually isn’t necessary, the boy almost always has wood.

“Do you need to adjust yourself, sir?” I say playfully, to let him know that I know he has wood.

“Uh no, that’s cool”

“Would you mind holding on to my waist? They don’t believe in seat belts for school buses for some reason, Sir.” I tease. As before, I’ve never had someone turn me down. I guess I think so much of my beauty, I hadn’t expected anyone too. What a prideful cunt, I must really be.

In any case, by the time we get to school, I give him a sweet kiss on the cheek, and thank him profusely for being my gallant white knight on the bus. This gives my brother a chance to go talk to him, about dating me some time. I am not sure what they talk about, but I am sure when the boy finds out it is going to cost money, he doesn’t think too much of me.

I wait for Chris and he comes back smiling. “Sold another one!” he slaps me on the butt as he walks me to homeroom.

“Will he be taking me to the party tonight, Sir?” I ask.

“Is it any of your business who takes you to the party?”

I want to say that actually it is, even if he is the boss of me. I would like to know. I tell him “No sir, I’ll try to be pleasing to whoever you rent me too, tonight. I was just curious. I will get details from my friend Victoria and where and when.”

“Make sure that you do by third period.” .Hhe honks my left tit with his finger and thumb, and says “Seeya, wouldn’t want to be ya!” as he races off to his own class. I don’t blame him, even if he is kidding. I wouldn’t want to be me either.

Mister Love is my home room. This is a class I share with Mistress Griffin. She is my supervisor, manager, and all around boss, when Chris isn’t around at school, so I’ve been told. I don’t think Chris really likes her, but he is afraid she has the ability to send our lives into shambles. I am not sure how it could get all that much worse for me, I guess it could. I could be a whore in Mexico, fucking donkeys in shows. I have been told that several times by Mistress Griffin who seems to revel in the implied threat.

Just as every day, I present myself to her. I step up and curtsy, bowing my head slightly, dipping my knees, and pulling my skirt out to the side. She is dressed like me for the big game, although I suspect she wore her spanks underneath.

“I heard you had a grand old time at the fair last night, slut.”

“Yes Ma’am, it was exhausting.” I am tired from the night before, but I have that crazy energy of someone who is over-tired, so I couldn’t go back to sleep if I wanted too. I wonder how she found out about it, probably the pictures that Thad, Dave and Noah took.

“You will sharpen your pencil, and then you may be seated.” She tells me.

“Thank you, Ma’am”. I set my book bag on the ground, then bend over and take out a well sharpened pencil that I always carry. I snap the lead on purpose. I stay like this for about thirty seconds so that if anyone in my home room wants they can see up my skirt from behind me, or down my blouse. It is very embarrassing, and awkward.

Then I walk to the blackboard where the pencil sharpener is. I ask Mr. Love if I can have permission to sharpen my pencil. As he has every day, he sighs in exasperation that my request is unnecessary, and gives me permission.

“Thank you Sir, Sorry. I am so used to asking permission, I forget”. I hadn’t forgot. It was part of Cathy’s morning rituals, that I get his attention. This is because I am about to shake my ass while I grind the pencil in the manual pencil sharpener, until I take it out and blow on it, while trying to make eye contact with him.

He usually connects with me, he did today. He returns my gaze. I drop the pencil on the ground, and take my time picking it up. This is strictly for him, no matter which way it falls, I’ll be punished if I don’t face away from him and bend at the waist.

He probably thinks I am teasing him mercilessly. I know he has to shift his legs to cover his erection while he is seated. I want to tell him, I have to do this for his benefit, but if Cathy found out, she’d probably make me do a lot to worse to him. She doesn’t seem to have any limits like my brother and Dad do.

I’ll say this for my Dad and Chris. They could have made me give blowjobs, fuck people, and do all sorts of nasty things I may not even be able to imagine yet. They have been really honorable about that. That is why I was surprised my mom had a family meeting last night. She seemed to be implying that lines were being crossed. I wondered if my Dad may have been cheating on her.

She was obviously having sex with others outside of their marriage. Granted, mostly because he told her too, but could she be mad that he was getting something on the side? No, not my dad. Well, it’s hard to say. I would never have though the last Principal we had was getting some action on the side. Apparently, he was and with one of the girls in Cathy’s web of blackmail.

I am in that web now, and having completed my morning ‘show’ I return to my seat. I don’t wait for Mistress to order, I spread my legs wide, making no secret I have on nothing underneath, when I take my chair.

“So hooker, I saw a hint of your tattoo back there, tell me that is henna and it comes off in a few days?”

“No ma’am” I whisper back. “It is permanent, my mom and I both got one.” She calls me hooker all the time.

“So are you going to be Bill and Chris’s full time slaves for life?” She asks incredulously.

“No Mistress, That is a really long story. It is kind of complicated, I also got piercings.” I call her mistress sometimes to break up the monotony of the Ma’am, and because she prefers that title anyway.

“Yeah, I heard you jingling, and I could see the ones on your boobs, when you bent over to let Richard and the guys behind us have a look at them.” She whispered loud enough that she could sometimes be overheard.

The other kids in the class suspected I was somehow caught up in Cathy’s game, I am sure. I didn’t know how much they knew. I just smiled, like a pretty little idiot. What else could I do?

“I am impressed.” Cathy said seriously. “What is your tattoo of?”

“It says Whore in big letters.”

Cathy covered her mouth in shock, and then began to laugh uncontrollably.

Mr. Love told her if she couldn’t quiet herself, he would send her to the office. He did so as he looked straight up my skirt.

“I’m sorry Sir, Jamie just told me the funniest joke.” Sometimes Cathy liked to call the teachers “Sir” just like I had too. I should be thankful, it didn’t make me sound like such a weird idiot for talking that way all the time.

“Oh, would you like to share it with the class?” Mr. Love put me on the spot.

“No sir, I don’t think you’d find it funny.”

Cathy encouraged me while giggling “Oh I am sure he would love to hear what you got at the fair last night.”

“Ah yes, the picture. We’ve all seen it.” Mr. Love said disapprovingly.

This was news to Cathy. She is such a master at manipulation, she obviously hadn’t seen it, but she was able to use her words to get Mr. Love to tell her what it was without revealing she had no idea. “Oh, THAT picture, yes.”

The football players had made posters of the pictures of me in the pillory, covered in tomato, hanging with my feet and wrists. They had put it on their Facebook status. I wasn’t naked so there really wasn’t anything anyone could say about it. The caption read “Go Cherry Lawn Trojans, Punish the Rams!” (our rival high school). They didn't care that they were clearly visible smiling in the picture with me. I would have thought it embarrassed them too, but then I don't really claim to understand how the male mind works.

“Yes, Jamie is filled with school spirit!” Cathy said about me with an evil grin.

“That is one word for what she is filled with.” Mr. Love said nothing else about it and sat down, crossing his legs uncomfortably. He only removed his gaze from between my thighs a few times for the rest of the class.

Two of the boys that were playing a game of “flick football” a few desks away from ours, made it a point to also keep kicking their football so they could get a good look at my hairless cunt. I don’t know why they wanted to see, it reminded me of a roast beef sandwich turned on its side. Okay, I know why they wanted to see, and I wasn’t permitted to deny them. I just sat there like a stupid blonde bimbo who either didn’t care or didn’t mind them drooling at me while I kept my knees wide apart and whispered to my Mistress.

At one point in our conversation, the paper football they have folded into a tight little triangle hits me in the crotch. You would think this is cause for Mr. Love to say something, but everyone pretends that this is just an accident. I pretend too and smile as if it is (like a big blonde dummy).

“I’ll get it” says one of the boys. He has been in my home room this entire year, and I’ve not bothered to learn or remember his name. I am such a thoughtless cow.

I want to get it before he can reach, but Mistress grabs my hand reminding me, I am to let him. I say nothing, just smile like a dumb ass at him. I am sure he thinks my warm inviting smile is an invitation for more. So as he reaches between my legs to get the football, he touches my pussy lips, delicately, almost as if he thinks at this point having gone this far I would dare stop him.

He explores a little more touching my ring. His eyes become wide like saucers. I haven’t seen eyes that wide since last night when that kid they call Millhouse freaked out when my mom offered to kiss him.

“Find your football?” Cathy asks him playing with him. She reminds me of Charlotte, the spider from Charlotte’s Web in how she talks to guys some times. She uses the soft, velvet like touch of her voice in such a subtle way, that it implies she has perfect control of the situation, even if she is asking a question and dealing with someone who weighs 200lb more than her.

“Yes, Yes I did.” The boy let go of the hoop on my clit, and backed away nervously. He was happy with the quick finger bang he got, and wasn’t going to push his luck that I would protest. I wouldn’t have. I hated to admit to myself, I don’t know where I draw my lines anymore. I knew I would have sat right there and let him play as long as he dared. I don’t know why, but I think I would have.

I don’t know how far he could have gone before Mr. Love would have stopped him. I was happy Cathy had.

“Thank you Mistress” I whispered to her.

She didn’t answer, but I knew she knew I was grateful she had stopped his hand.

The Family Feud III

Chapter Sixteen
Wendy’s Day

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 36
Get out of jail cards: 1
JAMIE: 39
Get out of jail cards: 1

The room is warm and earthy, well decorated and airy. A thin, red head with bright blue eyes is completely naked with her chin resting on the couch. She is holding her ass apart with her hands  as she bends over. She has a wry grin on her face as she says, “Barbara Jean, if I pull ‘em apart any further, Brock will see what I had for lunch!”

There is genuine laughter from a crowd of people in the background.

Next to her is a big-boned but attractive blonde woman in her mid-thirties. She has a very excited expression on her face while she maintains the exact same position completely nude. “I am just telling you Reba, if Brock catches us without our asses held apart, there will be hell to pay, HELL to pay.” Her words are punctuated by the same background laughter almost as if on cue.

A handsome college aged guy with a thick shock of black hair is walking a beautiful blonde about his own age through the room. She has a pony bit and bridle in her mouth. She is wearing a leather bra and thong, with shoes that reminds you of horses’ hooves. He is marching her as she high steps through the comfortable living room, prodding her along with a riding crop. The ethereal laughter seems to follow the two of them as he marches them through the room.

Reba the blue-eyed, red-head says in a sassy Georgia peach accent, “Ah, to be a newlywed again!”, with a trace of sarcasm. The unseen audience laughs.

In walks a young girl, long flowing hair, she is naked from the waist up, her breasts just starting to bud. She is with a fully dressed boy her age who is grinning sheepishly. She protests to Reba, “Mom, Jake says I have to get naked!”

“I can’t do anything about it, honey. The men have taken over. You’ll have to listen to whatever Jake tells you to do.”

Then I awoke from the dream. I was asleep at my desk, and I realized I must have been dreaming about the sit com Reba. I should be working on Steve’s expense reports, or any one of the half a dozen other projects he has given me. Instead, I thought I would tap down that bizarrely perverse dream before I forget it.

I am not sure why. I would be too embarrassed to admit I’ve been having such twisted dreams to anyone. My son says that there is a “Rule 34”. It says that on the internet, if something exists, there is ‘porn’ of it. I suppose I could post my dream online, just in case there aren’t any dirty fantasies about the cast of Reba, yet.

There probably is. If I lose my job here, I could probably become a writer of internet fiction. I would pick a corny name to write under like “Connie Lingus” or “Amanda Hugginkiss”. I certainly wouldn’t want to write under Wendy Taylor.

I shouldn’t have been sleeping in the Office. If I get caught, I will probably get a correction when I get home. I shouldn’t be writing in my personal journal, when I have so much work to get caught up on. Steve is gone to a meeting,  and left me here literally chained to my desk. I am completely naked save for the collar I always wear, and cuffed to my chair by my ankles.

I have the red rubber ball gag in my mouth, and I’ve been drooling all over my desk and down my chest. I’ve got two rubber dildos, one wedged up my ass, and the other uncomfortably slammed into my pussy. I could take these out, but if I did and Steve came in, I’d be so far up shit’s creek I don’t know what I would do.

I can always alt-tab away from my journal of private thoughts. I can’t get the rest in before he got the door open.

My office is locked, and he and my husband have a key. They are (hopefully) the only ones who can discover me this way. If someone knocks, they will hopefully assume I am deep in a conference call and too busy to take their questions.

I am actually surprised things have worked this way for a full week. I used to be a micro-manager with an open door policy, everyone came to me with their problems to solve them. I’ve come to realize that they thought I wanted to plan and organize for them, so they felt obliged to bring these decisions to me. I’ve come to realize that they thought I wanted to plan and organize for them, so they felt obliged to bring these decisions to me.

Now that I have stopped doing that, my direct reports (and indirect reports) have begun solving their own problems. It is almost like watching what must happen here at the office when I am on vacation. Things still get done, without Wendy Taylor making everything happen. What a realization.

I have wondered how I’ve kept this job for a week. I’ve done everything I can to please Steve, in order to please my Husband. Taken on his assignments, sucked his cock, been submissive. It is important that I keep Steve happy, because if he loses interest in supervising me, Bill will definitely send me to Vicky, and I don’t want that. I’d sooner quit than answer to Vicky.

Who am I kidding? I won’t quit my job. I am not a quitter, anyway.  I don’t know how much Bill spent on the fair last night, but I hope it’s money they really did make off of Jamie, as stomach turning as that thought is. I can’t imagine high school kids have that much disposable income to pay a lot to date a popular girl. I sure didn't have that kind of money laying around when I was that age.

The cost of the tattoos, and whatever they paid Madam Chang, and who knows what else, could easily have been five hundred dollars.

We have a mortgage payment coming due, my car loan still has to be paid even though the car was wrecked. I don’t know what it will do to my credit, but I haven’t had a chance to talk to Bill about whether we should file a report or not. I have just been hoping the Griffin brothers really were going to make it all go away. Bill is running the finance of the house, and I do not want to nag him with the details. That would undermine everything we have been doing this week. I just have to pray that he knows we cannot spend more than we make.

I don’t think I will get fired. It turns out that as I rose up the ladder of corporate success, I had to step on the backs of both male and female executives to get here. My antics around the office have started rumors but it seems there are three camps.

First, there are the people who think I am trying to bait them into saying or doing something so I can use a threat they sexual harassed me as some sort of means to control them.

Second, The people who are too busy with their own work, to wonder about the changes in me. They seem happy I am out of their hair, and letting them take the initiative.

Third, are the people who actually seem to like the new me.

I don’t think anyone is really on to why I am doing this, or what the full extent of what I am doing is. Steve has been discrete. Why wouldn’t he be? He could probably get fired too.

I should probably start on those projected quarterly earnings. I am not a procrastinator. I never have been. It’s strange though. Without Steve standing over me, that I feel like I would rather record the events of this morning, than to do his work.

I will start with how we were woken up. It has almost become routine, if you can call being a slave to your son and husband a ‘routine’. Every morning without being told, Chris wakes us up. We didn’t get much sleep last night, which explains why I was asleep at my desk having a perverted nightmare.

When we got home from the fair, they made us lay down on the carpet, no pillows, no blanket… Just hard floor. Let me tell you, it makes you appreciate the comfort provided by 300 thread count genuine Egyptian bed sheets and a Perfect Posture Mattress. It makes me miss sleeping, even with my burping, farting, snoring husband (lol, it's really not that noisy/gassy, I am just venting). Needless to say, when my training is over, I am looking forward to sleeping next to that burping, farting, snoring man every night for the rest of my life.

I woke up with a sore, tender asshole. I was gagged and tied by the wrist and ankle to my daughter. I know Jamie hates the idea that we have to lay so close, because it’s obvious the guys want to see us play with each other that way. I hate to admit, I like to snuggle with her though. Her warmth gave me comfort.

A fact, that I do not tell her, or my husband, or Chris because they would probably not understand and read something into it more than it is. Chris is kicking Jamie in the butt, prodding her awake as I crack my eye open. I am surprised Chris is so chipper in the mornings these days. It used to be a big production to wake him.

When he was under my training, I was hoping to put Jamie in charge of waking him. I have to admit, I never saw him getting up on his own without someone literally beating him out of the sack. Here he is trying to motivate us.

Which would have been easier to do if he’d take the stems out of our asses. Ouchie!

We are uncuffed and made to go up the stairs on all fours. This makes the flower sticking out of my ass look like a tail, I am sure. I playfully let it waggle. Hey, if it’s going to be there, I may as well waggle my tail, right?

The bathroom is one of my least favorite parts of our morning ritual. Jamie goes first over the litter box. She used to be a lot more shy about pissing and shitting in front of others. She seems to have no inhibitions now. I hate watching her pump out what looks like chocolate ice cream soft-serv into the litter box. I think mostly because I know I am next.

The only solace I take in this, is that Chris has pulled the stems from our assholes. It feels like such a relief, although it still stings a little.

Chris complimented his sister that she pissed while she was on the pillory to amuse him. I don’t think so, it seemed like an accident to me, which is why I did it too. I didn’t want her to feel like the only one. I gave Jamie a supportive look when her brother said that. I am pretty sure she gets that I know she didn’t piss all down her skirt to amuse people.

Then again, maybe she did pee on purpose. Either way, what is done, is done. There is no going back and changing that.

The only thing that makes using the litter box even slightly bearable is Chris has a sense of humor about it. He’ll say glib things like, “Mmmm, I love the smell of ass in the morning”, like he is an Army Colonel on a chopper in Apocalypse Now. I think he has a future in comedy, I really do. I had no idea about his sense of humor. I knew he would say silly or ridiculous things, he did that ALL the time. I just never paid attention enough to know some of it was hysterical (if a little off-beat). This morning, he made me giggle while I am about to finish and he says, “God mom, say it, don’t spray it!”

Except I wasn't talking at the time; if you know what I mean.

I thought I might lose my mind laughing hysterically. Instead, I managed to keep my composure and act like it didn't bother me that he is supervising both Jamie and I do one of the most private things I’ve ever done in my life short of changing a tampon. I really have no control over how much I “spray”, anyway. I think Jamie is amused by his jokes too. We both try to keep straight faces, but I've caught her smiling once or twice in the past at his potty jokes.

We are not permitted toilet paper at home. That is another part that feels so grimy about it. I am positive I would have allowed Chris and Bill toilet paper if I had required them to use litter boxes. I swear though, I wouldn’t want to see Bill OR Chris take a dump. I would only require it, if I ever got the upper hand again, because they did it to us.

Which, I think I can safely say after this week, that I will never want the upper hand again. I am paying through the nose for my choices. My maternal instincts combined with my controlling nature, went haywire and somehow I ended up enslaving Bill and Chris. I feel so bad about that choice. I am not just saying that.

Since I cannot take back my decision and make it never happen, the next best thing is to grin and bear this for another week. With the ten stars we picked up last night, I think I am set to graduate from this right around the same time Jamie does, as long as she tries hard. I need to keep encouraging her to get through this. I’ve committed to myself to wait until she earns the last star she needs before I graduate. I am not going to sit in the house fully dressed while she serves. That would be completely insensitive of me. Besides, would they expect me to boss Jamie around after I've been where she is? I couldn't.

The sooner Jamie is done with this, the sooner I will be.

She is a trooper about it, I have no doubts she’ll keep at it. We shower together as we always do. She isn’t shy about washing under my boobs, or my ass. Chris is watching, so she has to put on a good show for him.

I am so impressed with my daughter’s courage. It never ceases to amaze me that no matter how hard they make it for us she always absorbs whatever they can throw at her. I shudder to think what it would have been like if we weren’t in this together. She has been my rock in this storm.

We are like Thelma and Louise at the end of that movie, where they go over the cliff together.  I hope not literally. I hope there is something soft on the other side of that cliff.

This is my first chance to really see Jamie’s piercings and tattoo in a good light. Chris won’t let us use hot water (because it is for the men), but soaped up and cold as we are I get a full on view at the lewd design that is also on my own ass.

Mikey wasn’t kidding that he is a fast artist. He was able to ink all sorts of curious embellishments into the lettering that spells out “WHORE”. Oh my god, what kind of mom lets her daughter do that?

I suppose one who lets her son pimp them both out. What a nasty dirty dog, I have turned out to be. My own mom would be SO disappointed if she could see me doing some of these things.

“That was something last night, huh?” My daughter asks me.

“You aren’t kidding, my legs are still sore.” I tell her. My legs aren’t really that cramped. I don’t want to sound like I am bragging, but pilates and step aerobics for years made last night more of a light workout. I am realizing now that while I was doing all those exercises classes, I should have been focused more on my kids.

It is better that I agree with her, so that she doesn’t feel so bad that she is having leg cramps. I am kind of surprised, she has such a tremendous dedication to athletics herself.

Chris finally decides we’ve had enough time and lets us scurry around trying to douse ourselves in makeup, brush our teeth, and do all the things that take an hour in less than twenty minutes. This is usually a comedy of errors for Jamie and I, but we have managed it every morning so far. I actually grin like a silly goose the entire time, because it is kind of funny being rushed that way. It feels like when you play musical chairs, I guess, except there is no music or chairs.

Chris comes in and out of the bathroom all morning. I would probably have screamed at him for walking in on me naked while I tried to straighten my hair before. I do my best to smile graciously, and not hide anything from him. If he catches us hiding from him, or talking out of turn it is an infraction, and that will cost us time. We have a narrow window of time to be ready and out the door. I am ever the planner, so I am calculating and recalculating the minutes in my head while all of this is going on.

We are marched down on all fours like doggies for breakfast time.

“Make me breakfast and some eggs, bitch!” Bill demands gruffly, while sitting at the table. He likes to be dramatic some times. I am surprised he is up. I am guessing (hoping) he is spending his days at home looking for a job in earnest. I know I shouldn’t nag him, or remind him, but I can still hope, right?

I diligently get to work putting together the breakfast. Jamie, bless her heart is more trouble than she is worth at this. I show her what I am doing and give her tasks, so that she will learn how to cook. It is kind of sad, that I didn’t teach her these things until we started training together.

Her father sends her upstairs to get our shaving bucket while I finish serving their breakfast. Bill and Chris both jerk me around by nipple rings once Jamie is gone. I always thing they are going to pop clean out of my nipples, but they haven’t. It still hurts when they treat me rough but I just smiled and tried to stay positive. They can’t break me, if I don’t let them have the satisfaction every time. I let them have the satisfaction of seeing me break down every now and then, I mean that is what they like after all. I wish they didn't, but I can understand after everything I did to them. Everything I had them do.

When Jamie gets back, we are on the floor shaving each other’s pussies, legs, everywhere there is hair, we shave. Jamie tried to hide her arousal this morning. I could see her clit hood grow and expand before my very eyes. There was nothing she could do as it inflated like a tiny, fleshy balloon with a metal hoop through it. I could smell her sex, I am sure Chris and Bill could too, but they say nothing about the smell of pussy as they eat.

I was glad they weren’t harping on her about her being aroused. It has to be embarrassing, especially because in order to shave her, I have to pull apart her flaps, and folds in ways that I know secretly arouse me too. She is very good at shaving without my direction, we almost never knick ourselves. It means really taking your time and going delicately over some of the more intimate places.

We shave sitting on the tile floor, sharing a little bowl of water. Bill has been stingy about the razors we use, they are the cheap kind. I am surprised we don’t cut each other more often with them. Today there are none. I can see the purplish bruise on her ass from the spankings we received last night, there are bumps, bruises all over her legs, and chest. It makes me feel bad to catalog each one and internalized how it must have felt for her. I know all too well, because I have matching bruises and bumps in places I didn't think I'd have bruises and bumps.

Jamie had such a pretty pussy before she did this to herself last night. It wasn’t like mine, mine is just a regular pussy, not too fat, not too thin, not a bunch of skin hanging down, but a little bit thicker lips. I know it sounds gross for a mother to say that about her daughter's vagina, but I have to admit it. Her pussy was the slender, picture perfect kind that I think men probably adore, a slender strip of a pink opening with very thin lips on either side.

It is so obscene to see her clit hood peeking out, unable to go back into the fleshy walls that used to conceal it. I am sure my piercings are no picnic for her to look at either. I just think on me, the hoops don't look as out of place, when I am naked.

When I was shaving her armpits, she started playing with herself. I had seen her play with herself absent mindedly, just a rub or a tug here or there. This was a full on diddle, with an expression of passion on her face. I was positive if Chris or Bill saw they would punish her. I wanted to warn her to stop, but that would have only brought their attention. I smiled and pretended somehow I didn’t notice her give her clit the two finger tango. I haven’t used that phrase since high school, what is wrong with me? Two finger tango. That is a nasty way to say it.

That is what it looked like to me though. I am pretty sure she thought I didn’t notice. It was time for morning inspection.

Inspection position one, standing side by side, we wait for one of them to check us. It is really just an excuse for Chris to play, is how I feel about it. He isn’t really checking for hair. If he was, he is not going to find any. I am thorough.

When it is my turn, he jabs my asshole with his thumb, then sticks it right into my pussy. I want to tell him how unsanitary that is, but I don’t think he would believe me. Especially since he has done it to us all week and it hasn’t made us sick or anything. He makes jokes like, “Hmm, whose asshole is wider, Mom’s or Jamie’s?” and Bill will answer, “Oh your Mom is the bigger asshole.” That is hysterical to them.

They try to sound scientific at times, like measuring my areola will tell them something. I know it doesn’t because they don’t even write down their observations. I just let them have their fun. When Chris is done, he sticks his thumb into my mouth to clean it.

I have on several occasions sucked his finger so well, that I noticed he had a hard on. It felt like for a second, the power exchange had reverted back to me, and that he was helpless. I probably shouldn’t do that. It is almost like taunting him to be cruel to me.

It does not matter if I get him hard anyway. He is going to get hard once they are done with the inspection. This is when it is time to play with their cocks. They originally had this ritual in mind for how they wanted it, but things have devolved into us unzipping whatever they are wearing, pulling out their man meat, spitting and then stroking them. I can't tell you how awkward it is.

We begin by spitting on their dicks, to get them to cum faster. It’s gross but it gets the job done. It also beats them using up all my bath lotion and body soaps. I’m hoping after this week, to take a really long, luxuriant bath for a full day, to wash away all the dirty, disgusting feelings.

One of those feelings is the one I get looking at my son’s face while I play pump the pony with his cock. I would much rather be doing Bill, but they are both my owners and they’ve made it clear they want us to switch off for variety. It doesn’t take too long to milk that cum out of his dick into a mason jar.

I don’t really understand why they want to cum in the morning. I would think it makes them tired and want to go back to bed. I do understand why the mason jars. This is something that bothered them so much more than I knew at the time. I used to make them jerk themselves off into mason jars to keep them compliant. This was just something I decided on the spur of the moment to save my carpet from their cummy spills.

They sent Jamie out of the room on some errand to feed Rosco. Jamie didn’t know I had been making them pull their puds to be more compliant. I felt if their dicks were empty of juice, they could focus on their work and be more pliable.

So the fault is entirely mine, and nothing to do with Jamie. I understand now they want to get even with me for humiliating their male pride this way. As I have every morning since they started, I remain on my knees and beg them to pour their cum into my mouth.

“Are you a cum gobbler?”

I bock like a turkey in response, “Yes Sir, please hurry, pour your cum into my cum dump.” I want them to hurry before Jamie gets back.

They have their fun with me, and then drip their mason jars into my mouth, usually simultaneously. I am not allowed to swallow. Once they are satisfied, and see enough on my tongue, they have me start making our lunches.

I have to spit their cum back onto a cheese sandwich that I am going to take with me to work. I am lucky for that much, all Jamie got this morning was a banana and a tomato that they must have had from the fair. I pack Chris’s lunch full of puddings and snacks at his request (command).

When Jamie gets back in, I have this feeling she knows what I just did. I am so embarrassed, my face is red, but she says nothing about it if she does. I am thinking about last night at the fair when she said she wanted to do the same things as me. If she really knew how disgusting pouring salty cum into your mouth can be, I think she would change her mind about trying to do everything I do.

The very last thing we get to do before we are dismissed is to eat. Today it will be to eat their scraps off the floor from a single plate. After our customary, confused head butt, we split the plate down the middle. Cold eggs and bacon, mostly the fattiest parts of the bacon that neither of the guys wanted to eat. I am famished. I would eat raw horse cock at this point. Okay, that may be an exaggeration, but I am hungry enough it doesn’t matter that I am on all fours with my ass spread and eating like a donkey out of a trough. I don’t even think about it.

Okay, I am lying, I think about it, but it has to wait, while I fill my cheeks up like a chipmunk trying to consume as much food as I can. I realize I am being a piggy, eating too much, too fast and slow down. I tried to offer some of the food from the side of the plate that I had placed my imaginary border around. I even pushed it over to her with my nose playfully.

Jamie didn’t pick up on my signal or she was not hungry. Bill took the plate before either of us got to finish it. He had just gave this lecture about not wasting food, and then he wastes the last bit? Confusing. It is just as well though, we don’t have much time left before Steve will be there to take me to work.

We were ordered to go into the living room to get dressed from the ‘bitch box’. I could see that our wet, disgusting clothes from the night before have been tossed back in the box. I become secretly relieved they didn’t plan to send us out in those again, good grief, thank heavens for small favors.

Bill said something about how Jamie is getting ‘special treatment’ by being permitted to wear her cheer leading uniform. I am left thinking “Oh great Bill, make it even worse by TELLING her she is getting special treatment.”. I keep my thoughts firmly to myself. I simply remain supportive and quiet.

This morning, I was gagged, handcuffed, and my legs were shackled together.  I was shoved out the door wearing only a bath towel and holding my sack lunch and some work clothes. I didn’t even get a chance to put on my shoes! I am outside in bare feet, like I just stepped out of the shower.

I scan the street line for any morning joggers or heaven forbid Mrs. Waxerman. As funny as it has been to bait her, I could not take her this morning. I crouched down by Bill’s truck to wait for Steve.

Steve is supposed to think I have agreed to all of these changes because I am a nymphomaniac and that I need some kind of aversion therapy. I cannot believe I am hunched over, squatting behind Bill’s truck in just a towel, trying to think of some plausible explanation for what I’d say when Steve finally took the ball gag out of my mouth.

The young executive pulled up right on time. He isn’t bad looking, a little cocky, but that is how you have to be to get ahead as an executive. I wave to him from behind the truck when he blows his horn. I ran out and jump in the passenger’s side next to him, opening the door with both cuffed hands simultaneously.

He predictably laughed at my predicament. That is a funny choice of words “predictable predicament”. I wonder what it is called when a writer uses a sentence like that? I better learn if I want to be a famous, published author of dirty stories. Then again, my only subject matter, for my own stories would be based on the experience I am enduring, and who would ever believe we agreed to and are living this way?

I am wearing just a towel around my chest, gagged, handcuffed, and preparing to go to my job under the supervision of someone who is half my age, and half my pay range. That isn’t a plausible scenario? Is it?

It doesn’t matter how plausible it is, I am caught up in it, and Steve makes me sweat it out for a little while in the car. He finally removes the gag when we are at a red light.

“What do you have up your ass, slut?

“Nothing Sir” I am surprised he doesn’t ask me why I am in the towel, or cuffed.

“Take a plug out of the toys in the back, and put it in.”

“Thank you Sir”. I turn around and reach into the box of toy’s that Steve paid for with my credit card. I am just thankful he didn’t charge it to my company expense account. If I haven’t been fired yet, that would surely do the trick. I better make a mental note that if I need to sabotage this job, that is one way to do it. I pray I can keep Bill and Steve happy with the current arrangement, because I may just need a parachute out of this situation if they give me to Vicky. That would be unbearable.

Steve insists I remove the towel, and let him watch how far I shove the plug up my already sore butt hole. “I was late getting up this morning, Bill sent me out before I could finish showering.” I explain.

I don’t know if he believes me, since my hair is dry and it is obvious I put make up on. Who would do that before they showered? It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t seem to care why I am dressed this way. He watched me lying face down in the bottom of his passenger side seat, ass facing him, draped across his seat without asking more.

This suits me just as well. Less chance for me to put my foot in my mouth with these explanations. Then again, I feel like if I explain, it may seem more plausible, and he is less likely to wonder later. That is if he even wonders about this situation. I know I would.

“May I masturbate for you this morning, before I get dressed, Sir?” I ask him politely. This is clever because I’ve reinforced I am some chronic masturbator (which is what Bill told him), but also thrown it out there that I would like to get dressed. This way I don’t have to just ask to put on clothes before we reach the parking lot of our building.

“Do you think you deserve to play with yourself?”

“No Sir, I am a naughty bitch, but it is worth a try?” I am never sure what to say when he asks me things like this. I try being pleasing and amusing. I could have said, “Yes I do, Sir.” but that would make me seem like a greedy nympho who hasn’t learned anything from the lessons he has been teaching me.

“Do you think you can get into the office in handcuffs and your feet shackled that way?” He laughs.

He doesn’t offer me any incentives to even try. He doesn’t even know about the gold star idea. I secretly wonder if the new rules Bill said he would work on, the ones where he uses letters to be able to give smaller rewards for specific things, will be explained to Steve.

“No sir, you’ll probably have to cuff me again once we get up to our office.” I say “our”, but it is really “my former office”.

He has the keys to the cuffs and shackles that Bill uses, which is why I wasn’t completely freaking out to be sent to work this way. I spend at least half of my day bound up now. I am surprised they give me as much freedom as they do. (Otherwise I might be lazy and sit down and journal my thoughts. How ironic is that, because that is what I am doing right now? Granted, I am gagged and cuffed to the chair, but obviously that is not enough to keep me from breaking the rules.)

I don’t like to talk about my day at the office. It gives me such a stomach cramp from whatever nerves or ulcer I am developing over this experience. I keep thinking the powers that be are going to walk into my office and tell me to pack my stuff and get out.

Steve waits for me to slip on the ‘outfit’ they gave me to take to work. I say ‘outfit’ because it is barely a skirt and top. It is hardly professional, and the heels not only don’t match, they are completely inappropriate for work, with baubles and chains dangling down. Even our loosest intern or newest secretary knows better than to dress like this for a work environment.

It beats the towel I had on before though. I am used to walking with a butt plug up my ass now. It constantly reminds me it is there, demands I relieve myself, but I am used to the notion that I will be walking everywhere with one in.

This is one of the true things about my charade around Steve. I don’t enjoy having my ass tortured, stretched and played with. He thinks he is doing this to keep me from wanting to have my pussy tortured, stretched and played with. I hate lying, but at work all rules change anyway, and I feel like it’s better he not know the real reason I am submissive to him.

Every morning works pretty much the same way, after we get off on our floor. We go into my office and lock the door.

I strip completely naked, surrender my clothes and get on the floor kneeling in front of him, while he decides where he wants me.

This morning he wasted no time pulling out his sizable shaft to stuff down my throat while he decides my assignments. I know it doesn't sound like me to say “sizable shaft”, but that is the word that comes to mind when I see his fat one-eyed snake staring up at me.

I listened to Steve go over a list of his petty projects that should be no problem to do, while I polished his knob. I’ve become a pretty good cock sucker. I find prolonging it is best, so that he doesn’t cum too soon.

My goal is to make him cum, just about the time he is finished reading off the last of my assignments. The orgasm makes him more pleasant, and makes him want to take a break. The only down side is it means I have to stay there with his cum on my lips, while he catches his breath.

“Thank you for breakfast, Sir.” I lie in the most sensual way I know how. I smack the cum on my lips to remind him it’s still there. I am not allowed to swallow it until he tells me.

“You are welcome, cum pig. You can finish the cum.” Steve acted like he has done me this huge favor by letting me lick the cum off my own lips. I let him feel powerful, smile submissively, hungrily as I do.

“You can go run off 100 copies of your ass cheeks in the copy room, for being such a good girl this morning.”

Steve thinks I am an extrovert who gets off on doing that. “Thank you sir. May I do it later today, when so many people aren’t coming in and out of the copy room?”

“Don’t you want to get caught by someone making copies?” He asks playfully.

“No sir, I want you to watch me sit my bald pussy on the copy machine, fuck me right on top of it.” I tried to sound more aggressive, like I really need a good fucking. He bought it, and pulled me up roughly, over the desk, bending me over it to fuck me. He can get hard just that quick after his first time. That is one of the fascinating things about young guys. They are wasted on young girls, who don’t appreciate that skill.

“What is with this tattoo?”

“It is part of my therapy, Sir. I admitted I’ve been a whore and a slut.” I had forgotten to think of a good lie about the tattoo. This was all I could come up with on short notice.

“I thought the idea was to cure you of your sexual addictions?”

“It is, Sir. If the addiction gets cured, I can get the tattoo removed.” My answer sounded weak, but he didn’t press the issue. Instead, he pressed harder into me, taking me from behind, pounding my pussy in and out, with hard thrusts.

He lost interest in questions, his sounds more primal and urgent. He gasps after a few more minutes, “Are you ready for me to pull your butt plug out?”

“No sir, please keep fucking my cunt.” I beg. I know if he pulls out my butt plug, he is going to cum in my asshole. It is better I keep up the illusion I love his cock so much, and want him to keep fucking me. There is no real win to forestalling the inevitable. It doesn’t matter how much I protest or beg, when he is ready to cum the butt plug comes out, goes directly in my mouth and he pushes his dick into my ass about two inches and pumps me full of hot semen. He said something about condoms when we first began this, but it would be too impractical. I have got his dick inside me almost half of my entire day in one hole or another.

That sounds funny, that half of the day I am tied up, and half the day I have a cock stuck in one of my holes. The reason that makes sense is sometimes I do both.

After he fills my asshole with his juice, he makes me waddle over a saucer and drip it out for him. This is when he is supposed to give me affirmations that Bill wrote for him. I am permitted to take the butt plug I am sucking on out of my mouth just long enough to answer and then put it back.

He doesn’t deliver affirmations the same way Bill or Chris do. He doesn’t have the emotional investment in hearing the answers. He doesn’t build off my answers to ask other questions. Instead he just goes down the list. It is not as effective, in my opinion, at motivating me, but I go through the motions.

“Do you love cock?”

“Yes Sir”

“Do you crave cock so much, that you’ll let strangers fuck you in the ass to get it?”

“Yes Sir, even though I don’t particular enjoy being fucked in the ass.” I cupped my titties, taking the squat position we were taught the night before. It seems appropriate.

“What are you going to do with the cum I just shot up your ass?”

“I am going to bend over and lap it up, when you tell me I can, Sir.” He knows that I have to say that. Bill has prepared for him, acceptable responses to his questions.

“What is the deal with your daughter?”

My eyes shot open about as wide as that boy from the fair last night when I told him I’d give him the kiss of his life. “Did my husband put that on the affirmations, Sir?”

“No, he did not. Am I in charge of you at work?”

“Yes Sir, you have full authority over my ass at work.” I try to infer that he has authority over my body, not to pry about Jamie.

“When I met your daughter, I got the vibe that she may be under the same thing you are. She called me Sir, and she was running around with you in the sprinklers?”

“I think I’ve dripped all of your cum out of my ass, sir. May I please lap it up for you?” I tried to change the subject.

“You may not. Turn around, so your ass faces me. Get your nose right above the cum on the saucer. Don’t lick it up.”

Dutifully, I get into the humiliating position. I know he can now see my freshly fucked pussy, as I hold myself just a hair’s breath away from the cum that freshly came out of my ass.

“Remove the butt plug from your mouth, and put it where you think I want to see it.”

I’d like to shove it up his own ass. I didn’t have hard feelings for Steve. He was just doing what any guy in that situation might do given such an unusual but willing executive to torment. I was angry that he was bringing up my daughter. That wasn’t part of the rules. I don’t know why it bothered me so much, perhaps it because things get so much wilder in the office for me. We’ve been humiliated together at the grocery store, at the county fair, at restaurants. I should be okay with his questions, but maybe it’s just because he is such a shark, that I think his questions are more than simply curiosity.

“Put your well trained cock loving tongue on top of that wad of cum. Don’t lap it up yet.”

I did as I was told, looking straight at the messy goo I had just excreted back on to the floor.

“When you are ready to tell me about your daughter, you can eat my cum, and start your day.”

“Wha U wanna no?” I mumbled like I am at the dentist with a tongue depressor, my tongue planted firmly on the saucer.

“Is she a slut like you?” he asked hopefully.

“Not like me, no Sir.” That is technically true. I don’t think she is exactly like me. She is definitely more innocent and deserving of consideration and redemption than me in all of our dirty deeds enslaving the fellas.

“You did well. You can take one lick of my man sauce.” Spoken as if this is the biggest treat of my life. “Why did she call me Sir?”

“We are both under discipline, Sir.” I had finished my first lick of his cum, and was beginning to feel butterflies in my stomach. There was something sickening about revealing this to Steve, while she isn’t here. If we had been asked by Medieval Steve when we were together the night before, I think I could have just come right out with it. I couldn’t put my finger on why it sickened me to tell him something, even make up a convenient lie. It is nothing we hadn’t done for Mrs. Waxerman or any number of other people.

“This is a sore spot for you, isn’t it slut?”

“May I have a lick of your cum, Sir?” I asked him politely. He had made it sound like for every question I take another lick, and I wanted to finish as soon as I could, the topic had made my asshole pucker. I knew he could see that, which is why he seemed to be drawing it out.

“No, rub the rest under your nose, so you can smell it. Then get dressed. You have copies to make, slut!”

The Family Feud III

Chapter Seventeen
Jamie's E-Journal Entry Two

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 36
Get out of jail cards: 1
JAMIE: 39
Get out of jail cards: 1

The following is excerpted from Jamie Taylor’s E-Journal account of a typical day in her life. It is presented to you with only slight edits for readability. This account is Jamie’s perspective of events that took place on the Friday of her first week of training. This excerpt begins as she is walked to her 2nd period math class.

Mistress Cathy likes to make me carry her books, and hold her hand at the same time. She thinks it bothers me that people might gossip we are lesbian lovers. There are a lot worse things that bother me than that. After home room is over, she walks me to my next class. The premise being if she didn't, I'd just doddle around and not get there on time. There is nothing further from the truth. I want to get out of the hallways. The leering stares, and pinches to the butt from people who know they can now get away with it, are more than enough incentive.

The posters with my face on them for instance. I shouldn’t be surprised in the age of the 24 hour Kinko’s, personal scanners and digital printers that they were able to print so many of these and get them put up already. If I had to guess, the jocks who took the pictures with me, bullied some dweeby kids in the AV department to put them up.

Friday is game day. There are decorations all over, many of them featuring the Football players, but a few with Cheerleader’s faces on them. People know we are good looking, but if we make posters of ourselves, we are considered vain. This poster of me looking like I have had the piss scared out of me literally, doesn’t make me seem vain. Thank God for small favors, right?

“You like looking at yourself, don’t you Miss Apple Pie?” Mistress thinks saying things like this to me, about how I am so vain and that I think I look like the wholesome, girl next door bothers me. This time she is right.

I try not to look like it bothers me, but I don’t know if I am that good of an actress.

“If you hadn’t wanted it on the wall at school, you would have flashed some titty in the picture. Then even the incompetent boobs who run this school wouldn’t leave these posters up. So you must have wanted the poster to get out, didn’t you?”

I hadn’t even thought about what would happen with the pictures. She doesn’t want to hear that. I just agree with her. “Yes Ma’am, I am a vain attention whore”.

“I know you are, now kiss me, before the bell rings and I don’t get to see you until English.” I have to lean in and give her a passionate French kiss. She is a great kisser, her tongue can do amazing things, and this morning she sucks my breath away as I give her what she wants. It makes my nipples feel they are going to burst when she darts her tongue across my gums and teeth, inside and out the way a cock must feel when it slides in and out of your cunt.

Yes, I am still a virgin. I don’t think that is going to be something I can keep saying for much longer. So, yes, I am still a virgin. Yes, I am still a virgin. Yes, I am still a virgin. Yes, I am still a virgin. Hahah, that felt good.

I don’t know how I am going to lose it. I’ve had fingers in my pussy, I’ve had things up my ass. I think technically that doesn’t make me exactly the most pure virgin anyway. I hold out hope that however it happens, it seems memorable. Naughty girl, why am I thinking about Bradley Jenkins as I write this? Okay, back to my story about school.

2nd Period Math is not as bad as most of my classes. Technically, no one is boss of me in math. There is Veronica, but she is my best friend. So she isn’t very strict. She is just keeping an eye on me because Chris told Cathy that she could supervise me in Chris’s absence, and Cathy told Veronica that she should report on my behavior in math.

I don’t hold it against her. I’ve known Veronica since 3rd Grade. We have been like two peas in a pod. We even look almost like twins, except where I have long, straight blonde hair, she is brunette. It is hard to tell which one of us copied the look of the other, it is more like we have been such good friends, we just dress and act  a lot alike.

It was only a few short weeks ago, she was watching my brother run around the gym out of breath calling him tubby and making fun of him with the rest of my friends. I didn’t defend him then. I feel SO bad about that.

Now, I report to her “Hello Ma’am, may I be seated?”

She doesn’t hold on formalities the way Mistress does. She usually just giggles at my question, and lets me have a seat. She makes sure I sit the way I am supposed too, legs apart wide. She is nice enough though not to rub it in (too much).

I have wanted to ask her how she got caught up in Cathy’s web of control and humiliation. I have seen the photographs my dad took of her months ago. She was spreading her ass, in front of a dog cage and lapping up milk and eating strawberries in some of the pictures. She has my smile, the kind that looks so genuine and wholesome, it really looks like she was enjoying herself when my Dad took pictures of her.

I don’t want to tell her I’ve seen the pictures. I know she knows I must have by now. It must be a sore spot how she came to be wrapped around Cathy’s finger to the point she would answer the craigslist ad of a stranger and agree to pose for him that way. It is probably a relief to her it’s my turn and not hers.

We used to talk about everything. I thought we did anyway, no secrets, like best friends are supposed too. I am getting a real education though, because if she were my best friend she would have told me about how she got involved in Cathy’s blackmail games a long time ago. That is why I don’t feel so bad about not telling her everything that is going on with me.

She probably doesn’t want to hear it anyway. She just smiles at me and giggles awkwardly. We have a female teacher for Math, and I doubt she is a lesbian, so my spreading my legs seems kind of silly too me. I guess unless you count the fact that some of the guys in the class make it a habit to stare, and that if I do it consistently and act like a silly cow who doesn’t realize she has her legs flapped open in every class, it will make it seem less suspicious.

I am probably overly cautious. Cherry Lawn is such a big school, with so many issues. The Principal resigned (I think because of me, but I don’t know much of what actually happened). The acting Principal, Mr. Dragovich, doesn’t have time to even leave his office. It is obvious to even me, that he is better suited to monitoring the lunch room instead of dealing with budgets and standardized test scores.

The chaos of being short-staffed in administration has meant that the Teachers lack direction. When they lack direction, the students lack direction. 

The boys are more aggressively wearing gang signs. It is funny when even white kids from the suburbs think they are ‘gangsta’. I am just happy to be on the side lines of all the serious stuff like drugs and violence. My problems aren’t really that big in comparison to some of the things I’ve heard go on. They barely notice when girls act like sluts, and if they did, most wouldn’t assume it is because someone is making them.

I would imagine my teacher just thinks I am one of the hundreds of girls who are going through a “Lady Gaga” phase. Trying to push boundaries, show off my body and sexuality. I guess when my Mom was my age, they would have called it “Madonna Phase” or “Betty Grable  Phase”. Is it Betty Grable or Betty Page? The one with the really cool bangs, is what I mean. Whatever.

Second period is over. We had to work on slope. Who uses slope? This kind of work is beneath me. I had this stuff in Freshmen algebra. It seems like they are dumbing down the curriculum.  This is supposed to be advanced math?

When the bell rings, I am supposed to ask Veronica for permission to go to English. She always grants it to me without hesitation, it is just a formality. This is my chance to ask about the party.

“Ma’am, my brother wants me to escort someone to a party tonight after the game, are you aware of one?” I know she is.

“Yeah, but it isn’t a party for nerds and geeks.”

I pout at her comment. She knows my pout and returns it the exact same way. It makes me smile to see her make the face. I have to admit, it is almost like looking in a mirror. I must really be a manipulative bitch, because even though I know her expression is just to parrot back what I am doing, she looks so adorable and sweet when she does it. You would have to have a heart of stone to look at that pout and want to break her heart or upset her.

I pull that expression out all the time to get my way. I admit it has not been working lately, but my Brother and Dad already know the game I play. They have my number, so they don’t let me get away with it.

“C’mon, Please Veronica! If I don’t let him pick a date for me, he is going to make it harder for me at school today.”

“So?”

“That is really cruel.” My pout is real this time.

“I am just messing with you, Sis. You have to lighten up. The party is at Dave Stravosky’s house”.

“Damn, it would be him!” He is one of the jocks who snapped his picture with me.

“He is a senior, drives a Porsche, and he is probably going to play college ball. Why wouldn’t it be someone like that?” She asks.

I don’t want to tell her about the fair. I am sure she can draw some conclusions from the poster on the wall, but  it would be embarrassing beyond life to tell her all the juicy details about last night. She is my BFF, but she kept a lot of secrets from me. That was probably for my own good. I guess it’s vindictive on my part to hold a grudge about that, but I can’t help it. I smile innocently and say “No, it is just as well. Thank you Ma’am.”

This is my first check point with my Brother. I have to meet him on the far side of school, so I’ve been walking fast. I have to give him his books. My tummy is already growling for my lunch. I have to carry it with me (along with all of our books) as part of my training. I don’t have much time before third period begins. I have to make sure he has all the books he needs for his classes (even though he probably doesn’t read them).

“How is your day going, Slut?” he twerked my nipple ring in the middle of the busy hallway, making no effort to conceal what he just did. The side of the school I am on is for Industrial arts. Shop class, auto mechanics, stuff like that. I don’t know anyone on this side, but it still embarrasses me. It doesn’t seem to surprise anyone. They call it “PDA”,  or “Personal Displays of Affection”.

It is technically against the rules, but this time of year, when we have a lot of dances scheduled, there is no shortage of it. Girls hugging and making out with their boyfriends, even guys hugging, and making out with other guys at times. Creepy, I know. I kind of blame “Glee” for making it more mainstream. I don’t know what it is about that show, but you’d think that they have so much time between classes to hang out and talk.

I don’t have much time at all or I will be late. I absolutely hate to be late for class. I am so afraid I’ll get a detention or something. I probably have far worse things to worry about, but keeping my mind on getting back to the math wing, helps me to forget that my brother just did “PDA” with me in the hallway.

Third period English, I am back under the supervision of Mistress Griffin.  I narrowly slide in as the bell rings. I used to be already set up and ready to take notes. Mr. Young says nothing about my almost tardiness. It is almost as if he never noticed I used to be the first one in the class and ready to start learning.

Mistress chides me, “You are so naughty, the bell just rang and you are just now sliding your ass into class?”

I have no response. English class we aren’t permitted to talk the way we can in homeroom. I just nod at her and mouth the words “Yes Mistress.”

Mr. Young is one of the most handsome teachers at Cherry Lawn. Mr. Young is such a handsome teacher.  (or maybe gorgeous). There is something about "one of the most handsome" that always sounds very clunky to me. So let me amend what I just said, to gorgeous hunk of a teacher. How is that?

He is in his mid twenties. He reminds of Jon Hamm from Mad Men mixed with Mr. Schuster from Glee. If they had a baby, and raised him to teach English, that would be Mr. Young. That is absurd of course, how would two men have a baby and it be the same age as them?

I started watching Mad Men after I saw Jon Hamm on Saturday Night Live and was blown away by his hunky square jaw. Okay, I am not going to lie to my own journal. I started putting on the show and not listening to the dialogue. How is that for honesty?

I guess I am being silly. I can’t help but wonder who is cuter? Mr. Young or Bradley Jenkins. I should put Jon Hamm and Mr Schuster in there, but that would just be ridiculous. I've been making a list of things, and ranking them since I was old enough to write. I guess I still am. It used to be what was better Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, or Rainbow Brite. Now, it is what guy is hotter? I guess Jamie Taylor IS growing up (some).

Mr. Young asked me a question about the assignment. I haven’t read it. I was up until 2am showing my ass at the fair with my Mom.

“I am sorry Mr. Young, would you repeat the question?” I stall.

It is obvious he is disappointed in me that I have my legs wide open. I have no choice in sitting this way. He is such a kind guy he seems to hate to look in my direction now. He just shakes his head and goes on to ask another girl about it.

My grades have been almost straight A’s. Despite how fragmented my journal is, would you believe English is my best subject? That could be because of the teacher. I sound like such a silly girl, all giddy over my crush on a teacher. It is a good thing no one but me will ever see this.

I am sure I can recover from not doing a little bit of my assignments while my mom and I finish our training. I absolutely hate that I am not getting it done. If I were to bring it up to my Dad, he would probably use it as an excuse to beat my ass until it was blue, that I am not doing my homework.

He hates it if I blame anything or anyone but myself, for my own short comings. So there is no way I can ask for home work time. I was able to get the studying all done, and have a very active social life, and do extracurricular activities before everything turned upside down. He would just think I am using it as an excuse not to have to do my service.

I am feeling like risking a paddling, I am going to ask if I can take a book outside when he makes me sunbathe for the pooper snooper boy’s after school.

Art is imitating life, or life imitating art, or ironic fate or something. Mr. Young just informed us our new reading assignment is the “Scarlet Letter”. That is somewhat apropos since I have been branded with WHORE on my ass.

Cathy Griffin gives me a nudge.

“Did you two have something to say?” Mr. Young doesn’t tolerate note passing or horseplay. He is a good teacher like that.

“No sir, it’s just that Jamie has some personal experience with the reading.” Mistress Griffin has purposely passed me notes to get me in trouble and put me on the spot.

Mr. Young asks me about my experience with the book.

I want to say that I’ve seen the movie and “Demi Moore was Hawt!”, that is what my brother said last night and that would probably get me out of trouble. It would also make me seem like a blonde bubble-head who doesn’t take literature seriously. I have to quickly make my mind up, something that would satisfy Mistress, but also work for Mr. Young’s question.

He does not give me a chance to respond. He just looks at me as if he is looking into my soul and he doesn’t like what he sees there.

I could have said that the Scarlet Letter, EVERYTHING is so significant. Every character, everything they say has multiple (often heavy handed meanings). How tragic to write that way. That is what I would have said. I think that is the story of my life. “What Jamie would have said.” I sometimes say stupid things, because I haven't learned to wait and decide what I would have said.

Dad and Chris keeping me gagged and making me follow a protocol about talking, keeps me from doing that. I hate feeling like an infomercial for the positive side to all of the strange things happening in my life. It really isn't pleasant at all to give up the right to talk when I want, or to do any of this stuff. I guess it is just my nature to look for the silver lining.

“Oh yes, I am quite familiar with Mrs. Taylor’s new found love of the puritan pillory. You cannot walk through the hall without seeing your smiling face on a poster.” Mr. Young sounded disappointed as he added, “I thought you were one of the good girls.”

The other students can barely contain their tittering guffaws at how that went.

I say nothing. I am too mortified. I picture how sickened he would be to read my e-journal.  I am sure he would hate my choice of wording and lack of proper punctuation. My over use of contractions and frequent re-use of the same words. I am not talking about that.

I am thinking about the disgusted look on his face to read about how I had jacked off my father this morning into a mason jar, how I had shaved my mother’s pussy. How turned on I was thinking about him watching me do that.

Okay, I should delete that last line. I am going to leave it in there though. To shame myself for thinking such wicked, dirty, perverted thoughts. This journal is after all, only for my eyes. This is the place for things I would not admit to a soul, not even my mother.

Moving on. Lunch time.

Mistress escorts me to Chris. We share the same lunch period. I wouldn’t have known that. I used to hang out in the quad with the cool kids, or study quietly. I seldom ate lunch, definitely not the cardboard they sell in the lunch line as food. Today, as famished as I was, I would welcome that hot cardboard. I guess that is another thing I should see as a positive from the tribulations facing me.

A week ago, I would not have set foot in the lunch line. Today, if given permission and money, I would have gobbled down the hamburgers with the curious blue square in the middle of the meat patty, or the square pizza that is basically garlic toast with tomato paste and melted Velveeta on it.

A week ago, I wouldn’t have acknowledged my brother, or even wondered if he shared a lunch with me. Today, I am asking his permission to be seated with him.

“May I be seated with you and your friends, Sir?”

“Why?” He asks. He is toying with me. He knows what my answer must be.

“I would like to sit with you, so you can supervise me, Sir. If not, I have to go with Mistress Griffin.” I choke out the last words, because I know his friends are giggling at how hard it is for me to say it. I’ve said it almost all week as I was instructed.

Chris looks at my Mistress and then back at me. Cathy is smiling evilly.

“What did you have in mind for my Sister today?”

“Well, she is getting a little fat on her thighs. I would probably have her run in place out on the quad while she eats a sensible lunch.” The quad is really for Seniors and Juniors. It is an open-air arboretum just outside the lunch room, with park benches and picnic tables. Freshmen, Sophomores and students like Chris would be considered pariahs out there. It is all about looking cool and seeming awesome.

Me jogging in place there would seem as out of place as James Dean jogging in place in one of those movies he plays a cool guy in a leather jacket. That is except he’d need to be wearing a skirt that will flip when he does.

“Will you be a good girl, if I let you sit with me?” Chris asks me.

“Yes Sir, I promise to be good!” I say excited.

He seems skeptical. “Thank you Cathy, I can take her from here.” He excuses my Mistress, who sulks off to the quad. No doubt, she has some other plaything out there whose reputation she wants to run through the mud.

The school has been short staffed since the Principal stepped down last week. There are only a few volunteer teachers who are monitoring the lunch room now that Mr. Dragovich is acting as Principal. This means that I could literally take my skirt completely off around my ankles and sit down and the grumbling teachers who are giving up their planning period, wouldn’t stop complaining to one another long enough to say boo about it.

Thankfully, Chris doesn’t order me to do drop my skirt and sit that way. It was an extreme example, I know.

It felt almost that bad though when he said, “Show the boys your new jewelry, I bought you?”

“All of them, Sir?”

My brother nodded, he knew I was stalling.

Standing in front of his table of nerdy boys, I could see I had dated several of them. They now had this amazing reverence for Chris, like he was their King. I took a little pride in the fact, that it is my social destruction, that led to his rise in popularity. At least, it was counting for something positive.

I flipped up my sleeveless uniform shirt from the bottom. “This is the belly piercing my brother bought for me last night at the fair.”

Even though it was only my stomach, they seem to salivate. I admit I have nice abs, and a tight stomach, but I don’t think it’s anything to write home about. The bejeweled belly ring has two tassels hanging down a few inches, so I give my hips a swirl to try to make them move.

I wait, no camera phones come out. I am a little surprised. I guess that is my vanity talking. Why do I assume just because I am pretty they want pictures of my belly ring?

I look over my shoulder. There are easily 1,000 students in this lunch room. My school has about 5,000 kids and staggers the lunches so that the room is always full. That means there is constant chaos as kids try to make it through the lunch line, get back to their table and eat as quickly as they can. It also means a low roar of noise as they all talk, gossip and laugh.

It always feels like all 2,000 eyes are on my back. I know that is ridiculous. In that much activity, with so much going on, other than Chris’s immediate friends, and maybe the closest tables, there is really no reason anyone is watching what I do.

I still hate what I am about to do. I pull my shirt to the side, to reveal my sore, puffy nipple very quickly. “That is one of my booby piercings.”

Chris insists I show the left one, even though I have already shown the right one and they are the same. I smile like I don’t mind, even though I am sick to my stomach standing in front of them giving them an anatomy 101 education. I suspect most of those boys haven’t been exposed to actual breasts in person.

The internet is full of porn, they could see them anytime they like there. In person, other than the other times other cheerleaders have done “Senior Pranks” that involved showing their bodies, I think mine are the only ones they’ve seen in person.

They act like they just got a real treat. If they only knew I was like this almost the entire time I am home. (Some do).

“What else, Sis?”

“I have a hoop in my Cunt.” I dread saying Cunt. I would rather say pussy if I have too, but Cunt sounds so dirty. The guys let out a surprised giggle, probably more at how vulgar I sound, than what I just said. It is hard to tell with boys.

“Is this ‘tell’, or ‘show and tell’?” Chris asks very seriously. I didn’t know the name of the game we were playing just now. I was not about to say ‘tell’ though. I would be sent to join Cathy and beg her to make me run in place for sure.

“Show and tell, Sir.” I flip up my skirt in the front, revealing my hairless pussy, and there is that puffy, sore, brown clit hood darting out of my pink lips, with a white gold hoop. The cell phone cameras are out, and I feel like it was a full minute before I dropped the skirt, even if it was only a second or two.

My brother’s friend Tsoong asks how it felt to get pierced there.

“It felt good, Sir.”

“Just good?” Chris asks, his eyebrow arched in surprise at my modest answer.

“I fell on the ground, and couldn’t stop orgasming, Sir.” I admit, I had hoped for stunned silence. What I got was a roar of approving laughter from his nerdy friends.

I suppose the first few days of revealing embarrassing facts, I could hope for shocking them into silence. They seemed eager for each new morsel or detail my Brother would feed them about my new life under him. They certainly didn't know everything, but they knew a great deal.

The air on my cunt when I lifted up the skirt, and the excitement of talking about it, has made my nipples even harder and my pussy wet. I say nothing to let on that inside I am going crazy with weird feelings of ecstasy coupled with intense shame.

“From now on, when something feels REALLY good, or TASTES really good. So good you feel like putting on the “O” face, then you say, you just pulled a Jamie.” Chris instructed his laughing friends.

Tsoong made a face like he was caught in the middle of ejaculation, holding his mouth open like he was saying “Oh”. “How do you like my Jamie face?” he joked. I couldn’t help but picture the twins from the night before, Kiko and Yuki, or Robert and Neil or whatever their names were. The ones at Madam Changs. Am I totally racist for seeing one Asian person and then thinking about another Asian person? That is horrible of me.

“Anything else you got at the fair, you’d like to show and tell?” Chris smiled, blinking his eyes trying to look cute.

I turned around without hesitation, to flip up my skirt and show them my ass cheeks. “It is my new Tattoo, Sir.” I let it drop when I looked up and saw one of the teachers who have to monitor the lunch room walking my way. They spent the entire lunch drinking coffee and bitterly complaining about cuts in funding and lack of leadership, why was he picking now to do his job?

I don’t know if the guys laughed or took pictures of the WH and RE. I didn’t have time to show them where the O was. I let the skirt fall back down behind me, and prepared for the teacher to question me, to haul me back to the office.

He said nothing. Just gave me a look as he walked past. I turned my head to follow him. He was walking over to two black girls who were pulling on each other’s shirts, about to start a fight. It made me laugh, thinking about the fight I tried to have with my Mom last night. I am far too nice to try to kick anyone’s ass. Fights were a pretty common occurrence in the lunch room, and this one was over almost before it started.  The people closest to the fight had formed a small semi-circle, but as jaded as some of them where, a few kept their seats and kept eating.

It had managed to take the focus off me. My brother gave me permission to pick one boy’s knee and have a seat on it.

I chose Tsoong. He was handsy when we dated earlier this week, but at least I knew him. His knobby knee didn’t really feel strong enough to hold the weight of my ass, but if it bothered him he said nothing. He even nervously shook his leg up and down to make me jiggle (or get some blood flow going in his leg from my fat ass, hahah).

He used the opportunity to try to feel me up, while I waited for permission to eat. He put his hands under my boobs and tried to rub my thigh. I smiled at him, so that he didn’t think I felt like I was being violated. Even though I did! I had to go through this humiliation. It wasn’t right to make him feel like a bad guy for doing what he was told he was allowed to do.

“You may take your food out of the bag, and show it to us.” Chris told me and I thanked him. I pulled out an over-ripe Banana and a tomato that looked like it was from last night at the fair. It probably was.

“You can sit on one of those, while you eat the other.”

“Thank you sir, for helping me with my diet.” I lied to my brother. I hated this. I turned to the boy whose knee I was sitting on. “Do you mind if I sit on my banana, Sir?”

“No, go right ahead.”

I felt kind of bad about putting the banana on his pants and then sitting on it with my bare ass cheeks. That is unless you realize they are courdoury khakis that have probably never been in style in the first place. I straddled his legs, lifted my skirt a little so that I didn’t get any banana on my ass, and then placed my weight down on it, feeling it go goopy under my weight and invade my ass crack.

I am sure I scrunched my nose. I am told I look adorable when I do that, but it is an uncontrollable reaction to squishy, gross things like this. The guys seemed satisfied with the expression I made. I was left to wonder how I would eat this raw tomato.

It had burst in several places, where the skin had been rubbed off. I took it out of the plastic baggie and set it on top of the cellophane to give some thought to the least messy way to eat this. I didn’t want juice all over my uniform and if I don’t eat the tomato, I can’t have the banana.

“Would you like some milk?” Tsoong asked me, offering me his milk. I looked at my brother for approval, he nodded and I accepted. Tsoong fed me the milk in the carton, holding it up to my mouth while I drank it. The worst part was I had to thank him for that humiliation.

“Did you want to tell the guys where that tomato is from?”  Chris probed. I knew it wasn’t an optional question that I could decline to answer.

“Last night, when we went to the fair, My mom and I got  in the pillory at the medieval faire. That is where the picture of me in the posters comes from. The people there got to toss tomatoes at us. I think this is one of them.” I blurted out as plainly as I could, while trying to bite gingerly into the tomato so it would not squirt me. I was having flashbacks to the deluge of tomatoes from last night.

I know Chris would have preferred me to go into more detail. When they reveal those new “letters” they want us to earn in their new rules, maybe that will give me some incentive to do it. As it stands, I know he won’t give me a star for telling the story, and I am already so embarrassed.

Seeming like I might have an interest in medieval things, only gives nerds a chubby. They got excited and started asking more questions. I tried to answer them as I choked down the tomato. It tasted horrible, hot and wet. If the fair had a ‘flavor’ this would be it.

Okay that isn’t fair. It wasn’t all bad at the fair. I still have a lot to process about what was said and done last night. It felt like several chapters of my life had just happened all in one night.

When I finished the tomato, I was allowed to ask for the banana. I scooped it up from under my skirt. It was now smushed banana-butt pudding.

“Taste like chocolate?” My brother asked sarcastically.

I knew I could give him a lemony response, so I just gave him a look like “You wish!” as I tried to eat the banana mush with my fingers that I had just sat on. The other boys laughed at our exchanges like that. I could get away with it, if I didn’t do it too often and push my luck. Chris seemed to like it when I would be a little sassy, as long as he wasn’t the butt of my joke, and I didn’t mind it. It actually felt kind of ‘right’ for the situation in question.

Holding my mouth open, so my brother could see I had finished and had nothing in my mouth, I asked as I always do about this time, if I may please be permitted to pee. Even if I don’t this is usually when I choose to masturbate and take pictures to send home to Dad. Yes, he still requires it every day, and if you forget it is an immediate correction.  He’ll know if they are extra left over from the day before, because he wants time stamps on the pictures.

They want me to pick new places to do it, but the problem is, even as loosely disciplined as our school is, there are few other places besides the bathroom to play with yourself.

“Are you going to go masturbate?” He asks me as if it is a common question. The table gets quiet. Sometimes he asks me almost clinical questions, very specific. I can't decide if it would have been worse if he had asked me if I planned to play with myself, or to masturbate. I guess either option is going to turn my face red.

“Yes Sir, I had planned on it.” He knows I have to get it done, and I can’t go to the bathroom without his or Cathy’s permission. I hate that the other guys probably think it’s my idea to masturbate myself, by how I said it. I just think I would hate worse saying it was my dad’s idea to masturbate and take pictures to send him.

“You can pick one boy to supervise you.” Chris says. That is lucky, he could have dragged out how nasty a whore I am for wanting to masturbate and rake me over the coals with his friends. It wouldn’t be the first time he has done that.

I am about to ask Tsoong when he says, “Except for Tsoong, you can’t show so much favoritism.” 

I hadn’t looked at it like I was playing favorites. I turned to another of the boys at the table. He was another one I didn't know, wouldn't have bothered to know. “Would you mind taking me to the bathroom, so I can pee and masturbate, Sir?” I ask him. He resists my pouty face, and shakes his head no as if he is so shy and nervous the thought is preposterous. I suppose it is.

I hate the idea of being rejected. I especially hate it that despite all the training about humility and pridefulness, I still feel like they should see it as me doing them a favor to invite them to watch me do this. I smile at his rejection, wondering if boy's have felt the same way the many times I have had to shoot them down before this training ever began.

I ask the boy to Tsoong’s immediate right, “How about you, Sir?” the boy reluctantly agrees and I offer him my hand. He helps me up, and I wipe off Tsoong’s corduroy pants for the stray banana bits and those long slender lacey strings left over from the peel.

Speaking of lace, as I am walking away my Brother says “I should call her Lacey. She is white, thin, and full of holes.” I don’t acknowledge his insult, just walk with the boy into the boy’s bathroom.

If you walk in like you are supposed to be in there, it turns out no one panics or freaks out (usually). I head to the back stall with him. I am leading him, more than he is leading me. I’ve peed in this bathroom every day this week. I am grateful that I usually don’t have to shit at school. That would be so twisted.

“Thank you sir for taking me back here. May I ask, what is your name?”

“Sheldon” he answers nervously. He is being a good guy, by blocking the open stall so that I can undress without me begging him. He probably has heard I do this every day and knows the drill.

I completely undress while his back is turned to me. He is obviously very nervous. “What grade are you in Sheldon?” I don’t feel bad about calling him by his name, even though he didn’t tell me I could. I think I am probably making him feel less nervous.

“9th grade”.

“Would you please hold my clothes for me?” I offer him the clothes, and he turns quickly, scans me up and down in an instant and turns back around to face the bathroom and be my dutiful look out. What a good guy. I would have thought he was a simpering little jellyfish, if I had even noticed him before the training began. I feel bad, because I have taken pity on him. Who am I, Jamie Taylor, now slut in training, to take pity on anyone else?

I do though, so I tell him very sweetly, “It’s okay if you don’t want to watch, but I have to ask you to tell my brother, that you saw I only pissed, and masturbated. I didn’t stay in here and do anything else, okay Sheldon?”

“You don’t mind if I watch?”

I squat over the toilet, leaving about six inches between the bowl and me. This surprises him and he turns around. I am not permitted to sit on toilets. He doesn’t need to know that. I hope he just thinks I won’t sit because the seat is gross.

“Not at all. If you watch, I won’t be as tempted to wait out the rest of the lunch period in here, instead of going back to the lunch table.” I giggle in response. I wouldn’t do that, I am too much of a rule follower to do that. I just say it because that is Chris’s pretense for having me supervised in the first place and I am trying to make him not feel as guilty about watching me do what I am about to do.

I let out a small stream of piss, which sounds a lot louder now that neither of us are talking. Then I wrap some toilet paper around my fingers and wipe myself in the front. He is surprised that I do this. I guess all guys assume girls only wipe their asses like they do. I don’t get toilet paper at home. I usually just shower, so it is actually a treat even if it is scratchy, cheap one-ply.

Another privilege I never realized how much I’d miss, was toilet paper.

I hold out the cell phone for him, ready to take pictures. “Sheldon, I am about to play with myself.” I explain and he listens like I am about to hand him a hot plate at TGI Fridays and instruct him on how not to burn himself. “You can take pictures if you want, and you are allowed to play with me too, just no penetration. Is that okay, Sir?”

I know I wasn’t going to call him Sir, but saying it all the time, it just slips out. He didn’t seem to be bothered by it.

He took the camera phone and began to take pictures. I hadn’t masturbated since I got the rings in my clit. OMG, this changes everything. I am getting hot all over. You know that song, “It’s getting hot in here, I want to take my clothes off?” Well I get it, now.

I am having this hot flash all over my body, breathing heavy, sweating, as I flick my noodle, and play with myself. I am not allowed to sit on the toilet, but I so want too. I so want to lose myself in this. I have completely blocked everything out. I am in my hot place. I mean my safe, love place. There is a white stallion, a lake with a delicate breeze, there is a weeping willow tree dipping it’s long branches into the shallow lake of crystal blue water.

I can see Mr. Young’s face smiling at me. I can see Brad Jenkins, he is checking me out while I dance this sexy cheer leading routine. I can see Work Steve and even Uncle Creepy is there in my imagination for some reason. Uncle Creepy is smiling though, something I never saw him do in real life.

In my Fantasy world, they take out their dicks and pee all over me. They make it rain down on me.  They are like the Ghostbusters, never crossing their streams, as they spray me with magical electricity.

WHAT? Oh my god. My fantasies have gotten a little warped lately, but that one was disturbing.  I open my eyes, and realize suddenly that Sheldon is still taking pictures.  There are now four additional guys including  Dave Stravosky the jock who is throwing the party, ACTUALLY pissing on me. The reason I was imagining being soaked in piss, is that I was literally being soaked in piss while I lost myself in my own perverted fantasies.

These just weren’t dick shaped Ghost busting beams on backpacks. These were actual guy’s dicks. I couldn't believe these four guys had watched me masturbate naked for however long I had my eyes shut fantasizing and they decided the appropriate response was to whiz on me?

I started to open my mouth to say something, and it was Dave’s cue to hit me directly in the mouth. I was still touching my dripping pussy, but now I had my eyes clenched shut, a bitter face of complete and abject horror as they finished drizzling me with their dragons. They had coated my hair, chest, even pissed directly on my clit hood.

I fell back, sitting down on the toilet for a brief instant in shock, then standing back up for fear of further punishment. I waited out the final spray before opening my eyes.

Dave laughed. “Oh I didn’t expect to find a girl in the guy’s bathroom. Sorry I didn’t see you there.” He was obviously trying to be a complete asshole to me. That is something I’d expect him to do to people like Sheldon or anyone else, but not me. Then again, he had asked me to Prom my fresh men year and I don’t think I even answered him. Could he be so petty as to still hold a grudge about something I did back then? He never acted like  it bothered him since then.

It could be he felt he could get away with this since he saw me last night at the fair, and he was obviously responsible for the posters.

It could also be that he felt I was one of “Cathy’s Girls”.  That we are to be the object of scorn and ridicule. He has dated some of the Cheer Leaders on my squad, he probably knows all about how it works with her, more than even I do.

I don’t say anything. I felt like a drowned rat, covered in smelly piss, caught red handed without clothes. What could I say in response to what happened? I was totally terrified. Had they wanted to rape me, I don’t  know what would happen.

“You happy you ruined my reputation with your sick poster? Thad lost his girlfriend over that.” Dave says angrily. The other boys are standing over his shoulder, grinning at me while I remain naked and dripping with their piss.

This is what he was retaliating at me about? He thought I had some reason to put the poster of myself, with them, in a wooden stock up in the school? I don’t think boys are as good at reading emotion as I would hope, because he can’t tell from the obvious look on my face that I am in shock that he would think that. He is waiting for an explanation.

“I promise you, I swear, I would never have put up a poster like that. What would I have to gain from that?” I am the one pleading for his forgiveness and HE just peed on me. How completely backwards is that?

“How can I trust a girl like you? You probably wanted his GF out of the picture, so you could move in.”

Nothing could be further from the truth. My social calendar was over booked with guys as it was. Some of whom I might actually date after the training is over, if they don’t expect me to act totally submissive to them. I was finding a few of them to be good flirts and conversationalists, they just needed a pretty girl to practice on, and the feeling they wouldn’t strike out if they messed up.

“I thought you put up the posters to make me look bad.” He believed me. I have one of those faces I think that people want to believe. This works out to my advantage except when I lie, because I am a terrible liar.


“Okay then, I am sorry about all of this. You won’t report me or anything?” He was actually apologizing for pissing all over me, as if it were an honest mistake. Had I not been in training and completely naked, with only Sheldon as my hopeless defender, I might have refused his apology. It is weird how hot and cold he became. He had started this encounter like a grinning jackal who was spraying me down with his hose. Now he was acting like we could be buddies?

As it was, I was willing to call a truce. “I was actually hoping to come to your party, tonight, after we win the game against the Rams.” I said, taking my clothes back from Sheldon. I had finished my pictures for lunch and needed to get dressed before lunch is over. “Sheldon, would you mind bringing me some paper towels?” I asked him to fetch me some paper towels to wipe myself down with and he obliged.

“We are going to stomp their asses!!” Dave liked to talk about football and his prowess. He seemed to forget all about pissing on me only moments earlier and talked to me like a friend. “Fuck yeah, you can come. You  are a hot little bitch. I like the new Jamie Taylor. Sitting in the fucking boy’s bathroom playing with yourself. You don’t even care if we fucking piss all over your face. You even opened your mouth to let me get a squirt in!”

The guys had all put their dicks away by this point. It was obvious that despite their 'prank' on me, they were all fairly gun-shy about holding their cocks out, even if I was standing there completely naked. Double-standards!

He obviously read the situation completely different than I did. It didn’t make sense to tell him otherwise. He could think I am a dirty slut. He gave my titty ring a twist and said, “Turn around, let me see what is on your ass.”

Did it help that he thought I got off on being pissed on, and the fact I hadn't screamed was some kind of signal that it must have been alright to do?  That my opening my mouth to complain and ask him and his friends to beg him to stop, had been mistaken for me trying to gulp it down?

If it did, I wasn't going to fight it. I'd rather he not hate me, than hate me, given the option. Compliance with his wishes wouldn't make things any worse. How could it?

Dutifully I did as he ordered.  Despite the fact that I DID have every reason to scream bloody murder at this point. (Well other than I shouldn’t have been naked in a boy’s bathroom in the first place, and even though I got lucky when I was caught the first time, I probably wouldn’t be lucky the second).

He could not tell what it said. He was impressed by the size of the tattoo. (Which is more than I can say for the size of his schlong. Steroids gave him a shrink dink probably, lol).

I patiently held my ass cheeks apart; in inspection position one. He and his friends could see the pink O, that spelled Whore. They were high fiving and laughing at my new body art. I guess I shouldn’t have expected a different reaction.

“Is that fucking permanent marker? Whoever drew that is a fucking artist supreme.” He asked.

“It is a tattoo, Sir”

“You are so full of shit.” He didn’t believe me. He took the liberty of pulling my ass cheeks that much further apart, putting his eye almost up to my ass hole and saying, “Yep, I can see it. A mountain of bullshit up there. A fucking tattoo.”

As he took his hands away, I released mine too, letting my butt cheeks clap back together. “You got my piss all over my hands”. He seemed to be angry that when he grabbed me by my waist/ass his hands got wet (from PISS HE AND HIS FRIENDS HAD JUST DONE). He went to go wash his hands. He was done with me.

What a complete, arrogant jackass. If he wasn’t such a handsome, muscular studly looking guy, I probably wouldn’t have been attracted to him.

As it was, when they left, I quietly wiped myself down and got dressed in front of Sheldon who had waited patiently for me to finish.

“I hope you aren’t mad at me, they were much bigger than me? I wanted to warn you, but it all happened so fast.”

I suspected they had also threatened to beat his ass, but I just smiled at him as if I wasn’t mad. I really wasn’t mad at him. I wasn’t mad in general. That is the weird part. I should have been mad at someone. A week ago, if I would have been pissed on by anyone, I would have called the cops or raised an alarm or something.

Of course, a week ago I wouldn’t be naked, masturbating in the boy’s bathroom, while a strange freshmen I don’t even know, takes pictures of me in the throes of ecstasy.

The Family Feud III

Chapter Eighteen
Wendy's Work Day II

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 36
Get out of jail cards: 1
JAMIE: 39
Get out of jail cards: 1

**Note to reader: Some of Wendy’s journal was altered to protect the name of the corporation and some of the employee’s identities. In order to increase readability, some of the dialogue exchanged was altered to appear in a ‘narrative’ story format.


What choice did I have but to comply with Steve's orders? I hate to seem like this robot who does whatever everyone tells her, but my options are extremely limited. At least a dozen times a day, I daydream about taking my life back. Demanding everyone stop sticking things up my butt, and slapping me.

I dream about packing up the car and driving back home to Indiana, or any place. Then I realize Jamie wrapped my car around a tree. There was time for dreaming right then. I had just been ordered to wipe the cum that had drained from my ass under my nose, and get dressed so that I could go make photocopies of my ass.

“Yes Sir” I said pushing the butt plug firmly up my ass as I stood up. “Would you like to come supervise, so I don’t get tempted to masturbate?” I pleaded. I don’t want to do this, much less did I plan to masturbate if he isn’t there. It is all part of the strange game I play every day to maintain this cover story with Steve. It gets more and more where I don’t remember what is really my motivation and what I am pretending to be like. There is a part of me that wants him to come with me.

He declined. He had a meeting of some sort to go too. There is another part of me, the controlling snooping kind, that wants to hear about the meeting. What is going on at the office that I do not have my thumbs in?

It seems all I have my thumbs in lately, are my own ass and pussy.

Once I was fully dressed, Steve gave me a cursory glance, unbuttoned one of the buttons over my cleavage, and with a pat on the butt sent me out to make my own copies.

I’ve been a Senior Executive Vice President in charge of multiple teams with direct reports, who themselves manage large teams. There is no reason I would make my own copies. The good news though is when you have a position like that, no one questions why you are doing it anyway. It comes off as some sort of alpha personality, “I’ll make them myself, MY way.” kind of thing.

I am starting to realize that despite the fancy title and my involvement in so many projects, things continue to get done even with me shutting my doors. I am also starting to realize that the title gives me some insulation from people poking their nose into what I am working on. They must assume I am doing something high pressure. If I were lower on the totem pole, I may have had an immediate supervisor breathing down my neck and wanting to know why I keep my door locked.

Executive privilege, I guess?  Why don’t I feel very privileged with a big dildo up my ass and a gag in my mouth? Lol.

I walked into the copy room, patiently waiting for some intern to finish her binders. There are several copy machines, but I pretended the one she is using is the one I need. She shifted her work to other machines, and so I had to pretend to be busy doing some prep work, grumbling to myself about quarterly reports and profits for the interns benefit. I really just wanted her to go so I could lock the door and finish, and get back to my desk.

Then SHE walks in. Vicky. I should also mention that Bill told me I don’t have to say Sir and Ma’am at work, on a few conditions. I have to say it to Steve no matter what, but to other co-workers, because we are business casual,  it can be seen as condescending to call them a title. If I said “Ma’am” to Vicky, she would think it is an underhanded way of demeaning her.  If Jamie or Chris find out, I have to go back to say Sir and Ma’am at work.

This is something I feel guilty about anyway, because I know Jamie has to say it even at school and that must be really difficult for her to call people she used to be on the same level with by titles of respect.

Vicky looks like a fatter version of me. Her hair is just so, she has frosted tips, a little more garish make up than I would wear. She had her usual look on her face, the one that seems like she just smelled a fart and she suspects YOU did it. The thing that was different today, is she was wearing a very short skirt, and I believe she didn’t have on a bra.

Unlike me, she doesn’t have a boob job, but she has fairly large natural sized breasts. Her big old jugs seem to catch my eye, in the provocative blouse she has chosen.

I immediately suspect that either she too is being blackmailed/guilted into dressing this way by someone, or more likely she has chosen to start dressing like me for some reason.

“Hello Vicky” I greeted her trying to sound polite.

“Okay.” She waved her hand dismissively.

“Making copies?” I ask politely.

She sneers at me, as if to question why I asked her, or that copying is beneath her. “No, I am here to pick up my reports!” She turns to the intern and starts questioning her on why the binders aren’t finished and demanding them to meet a project deadline. Then Vicky leaves in a huff, without saying another word to me.

“Wow, tough boss, huh?” I smile to the Intern.

She didn’t answer for a few minutes. I started to assume she must think I am a pig too. “Between us, Vicky is a complete bitch. I wish I worked for you.”

“Why is that, hon?” I ask. It is nice not to have to call her Ma’am, it would sound so weird if I did.

“You seem much nicer, and you are in here to make your own copies. I don’t think Vicky would ever do that.”

I smile, because I know until a week ago, I would have been more critical of the intern, laid more pressure on her to get it done and do it right, and I would not have come near the copy room. I would have sent someone else to check on the intern.

“How much longer do you need to make the copies?” I changed the subject.

“At least an hour.”

“Can I help?” I asked.

“Wow, don’t you have other things you need to be doing?” She seemed flattered that anyone at my level would be willing to help.

It is more that I need her out of this room, so I can lift my skirt, sit my ass on the cold plate glass of the copy machine and hope it does not crack while I make 100 photo copies to show Steve. The sooner I get that done,  the sooner I can finish my other work.

I started to help her, and about 20 minutes went by without incident. I was busy collating binders when Vicky came back in.

“Taken a sudden interest in the Bitterman account, have you?” She asked me.

“No, not really. I thought I would just help out.”

“No thank you! I’ve had your ‘help’ before. Then you end up putting your name on my work and taking credit for it.”

I smiled innocently, but I knew exactly what account she was talking about. It was true, I had been a self-promoting cunt without remorse. I consider myself honest and nice, except in the board room. Here I can be more ruthless, a dragon lady. This is probably where my domme personality emerged from when I began disciplining Bill and Chris.

She adjusted her skirt without even thinking about it. I could tell dressing in skimpier clothing was new to her. I remember feeling that way the first day I came to the office in something that provocative. I pretended to ignore it.

“You have been walking around here like you’ve got something up your butt, and I want to know what it is?”

My jaw dropped open. There was a moment, just a second where I thought she was being literal. That she somehow saw right through my new behavior and was calling me out. I almost admitted I did and called her Ma’am.

“What do you mean?” I asked her, instead. Pretending to be coy. Asking questions, rather than answering them isn’t my true nature. It isn’t who I really am, but it is part of the game between executives and I used to play it exceptionally well. That is until my wings were recently clipped by my husband and Steve.

“You know what I mean.” She said vindictively. This should not be taken to mean anything special. Most of what she says sounds vindictive and downright hostile. If a man were to take that tone around the office, he would be labeled an ‘asshole’ and no one would go near him, if his career lasted long enough for people to ever need to go near him. For us women, such bitter harshness is tolerated, even expected in the management arena.

“I really don’t, but I do like your shoes.” I have to admit a certain amount of joy at giving Vicky a complement. She assumes I must mean I don’t like her shoes. She’ll stew for hours wondering if I really liked them, or if I was being facetious. That feels like the old me. I wonder if I will be able to completely come back to being the ‘old me’ when my training is over. How much of those bad habits can be erased by two weeks of training? Some of these ‘old me’ habits have saved my bacon, and helped me get a promotion at work. As mean and tiresome as some of them are, I can’t deny their effectiveness. I don’t know that I want to change into a ‘new me’ for good.

I’ve resigned to do my best for next week to fulfill my bargain with my husband, short of getting fired. Vicky doesn’t have the patience to wait me out in the copy room. She left feeling like I was definitely up to something, probably with the Bitterman account.

While I waited, my real work and Steve’s work will be piling up for me, but the copies are necessary or else I’ll probably get not only a punishment here, but one when I get home. Double-whammy.

I locked the door to the copy room, and proceeded to set my bald pussy on the photocopy and wait for the 100 copies to materialize. Since I am not paying for them, I use the color copier. “What the hell?”

This isn’t the first time I had made copies of body parts. I’ve even done my tits, which is a really weird feeling to press my fat tits against glass for the time it takes to make a hundred copies. Having a boob job has been essential to play the game at work and climb the corporate ladder. I used to be so proud of them, listen to me calling them ‘fat tits’ like Bill and Chris do.

I am not talking about Erin Brockovich, “Tee Hee, give me what I want.” shaking them for some perverted executive. That is going to get you about as far as Executive Administrator. I am talking about the power they gave me over other women. Even women like Vicky with naturally large breasts. As I could tell from how they hung without a bra, they don’t stand up straight and perky like mine (With just a hint of a natural hang). They sag with the weight of time.

The great tits, had a psychological effect on me. I walked chest out, shoulders back. I felt superior, and in doing so, other women treated me with a respect. I can’t explain it. I guess for a male, it’d be something like comparing the size of your package with all the other guys at work, and the biggest is the alpha male who gets to decide what to do. Sort of a primal thing.

They were an excellent investment for my career and my self-confidence. I think though they, as many things do, had some unintended side effects. Aside from the eye-rape of every bus-boy, bag-boy, or ‘boy’ in general as I bounce along oblivious to their stares. The confidence may have made me take Bill for granted, and take too assertive a role at home. That is probably the understatement of the year, had I not been stopped last week, I would still be Domme around the house, just like I was queen bee here at work.

The copies were finished, and I pulled my skirt back up. I could hear someone knocking to get in the copy room. I try the old George Castanza trick from Seinfeld. I’ve been doing this a lot lately, when I am caught doing something that is hard to explain. It is where, as I unlock the door, I carry a lot of papers, grumble and complain as if I have way too much work to do, and people keep interrupting me. The poor simple administrative assistant doesn’t dare question why I locked myself alone in the copy room.

I hustled down to Steve’s cubicle to see if he was there. It is on the way to ‘our’ office. He is there, filling out some fax coversheets and pretending to do his own work. “Hello Sir, I have your copies”. I hand him the stack of color copies of my ass crack and pussy lips.

“Thanks, did you sign them?”

“No sir, not yet”. I did my best to not roll my eyes. I don’t know if he knows I can be punished for that, but it is best to avoid his gaze. He wants me to sit down and sign each copy, this wouldn’t be the first time. “May I do it in our office, sir?”

“Yes, you can be more comfortable there.”

I know what he means, as I nod and accept the assignment. Once I get into my office, I lock the door, take off all my clothes and then shackle my foot to the chair (as it is now). I insert a dildo I keep in my desk into my pussy, and removing the butt plug, I replace it with a rubber dildo as well. I hate to admit that for some reason I felt the need to put it in my mouth and clean it off. I chalk it up to having no other way to keep it sanitary, and just the habit of doing it every time.

Then I gag myself with a rubber ball. I can only imagine what someone would say if they walked in on me like this. It was 11am and almost time for one of my status meetings. I had scheduled lots and lots of project meetings in the past. There were so many meetings, that about half of the developers and analysts working for me, used to joke that most of their time on project were spent compiling status reports for my meetings.

I am sure they are pleased I cut those way back to the bare essentials for my time in training. I may just keep this meeting schedule once I finish. The modern meeting isn’t held in conference rooms. I have direct reports in Mumbai India, London, Madrid, and Brazil. They have to happen on my time zone, since I am their boss, but they happen over the phone.

I can take the gag out to direct the meeting, but I leave the dildos in uncomfortably. I admit I’m sometimes playing with my hood or my nipples if Steve isn’t there. How can you not if you are naked, and sitting on two silicon encased rubber dicks?

The meeting was dull and technical. At times, I almost made the mistake of saying “Yes Sir”, or forgetting to bring “Old Wendy” out of hiding to ream someone for not getting things done. It’s kind of funny. I used to “Ream” people all the time. That is, I used to give them a hard time for not meeting deadlines. I never really thought about  the definition of reaming, is having your asshole completely filled with cock. I think it also means squeezing orange juice and of course reams of paper, but when I used to ‘ream’ people, I wasn’t making OJ or giving them paper. I was giving them, what I was feeling quite literally up my ass right now.

After the meeting, I replaced the gag and started to work on quarterly reports for Steve. I had signed all the copies during the conference call and put them back in their folder. I wondered what he did with these, but perhaps the less I know the better. We’d both lose our jobs, if anyone finds out he put me up to it.

That is when I fell asleep and had the “Reba” dream, which brings me up to the point I am writing this now. I keep reflecting on that dream about the sit-com and how twisted it was. Wise-cracking, sassy Reba, was that supposed to represent me? If so, does that mean big-boned, former pageant winner Barbara Jean is Jamie?  Are Brock and Van, Bill and Chris? Maybe sometimes dreams are just dreams, or as they say ‘Maybe sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.’.

The door is being unlocked. Every time I hear the familiar sound of the key turning, I think about what is going to happen if that isn’t Steve. I had better alt-tab away, and come back to this journal later. Time to look like I’ve been working on his reports.

Hello again Journal, it is almost time for me to go home and face the music there. I’ll summarize quickly how the rest of the day went before I leave for the day.

When Steve unlocked the door, I looked at him innocently, with gag in my mouth, from across my desk. He returned my gaze like a wolf, closing in on his dinner.

“Are you hungry?”

“For Cock, yes sir.” I said as he removed my gag. It is sometimes fun to see the look on his face, as I play the role of the cock-crazed slut to the hilt.

“Alright, you can lick my balls for a few minutes, while I look over your work. Then we go out to eat.” He sounded like he was negotiating with me, even though I have no cards to play in this game. I dutifully agree, and began to suck his balls once he pulled his pecker out of his pants.

He is standing over me, checking the work I did. Don’t worry journal, I closed you, so Steve wouldn’t see all the nasty things I wrote.

When he was satisfied with my work, he poked me in the eye with his now very hard dick, and then hit me on the head a few times with it. I smiled like I enjoyed it. “Get dressed, slut.”

“Yes Sir, may I take out my dildos and clean them?” I  unlocked my leg shackle and stand up.

“What size do you have in?” He asked.

“I have the 8 inch in my cunt, and the 6 inch spreading my asshole, Sir,” I answered revealing the length of the rather thick rubber dongs in my body.

“Set them on the table, deep throat them both until they are clean, and put the bigger one up your stink hole”.

I just gave him a big smile and a, “I’ll give it the college try” look. I am getting better at deep-throating, but I still want to throw up and gag all over my desk. I bent over at the waist, and take the 6 inch cock almost perfectly. The trick is to relax your throat muscles as much as you can, and try not to think about it. Keep your tongue down, and act like a sword swallower. He doesn’t like me to spend much time sucking the dildo, but to give him his little show, I lift my head up and down on it quickly.

It also helps a lot to not think about the fact this rubber phallus has just been in your “Stink hole”, and you are actually cleaning your own poop off it. I think the fact that it is my own butt juice, makes it much easier to do. Sort of the way it isn’t so bad to smell your own farts. It wasn’t like it was coated in brown pudding, just a few specks, and the sickly-sweet smell of my ass. Bill likes me to say Shit, but it’s my journal, so to me, it is brown pudding.

I had visions of Bill Cosby’s puckered face mugging in front of me, saying “The Jell-o pudding pops”. Hahah. Do they even still make those? Those were good. When I am done with training, I am going to buy those if they still make them.

Then it is the 8 inchers turn. The extra two inches really makes a difference. This dildo isn’t just long, it is extra fat, probably 3 inches, hell I dunno, how wide. I am guessing. It’s fatter than most fully hard cocks I’ve had in my mouth that is for sure.

I pulled my ass cheeks apart as I bent over for Steve, keeping my hands away. I opened my mouth and started to slowly slide my lips around the bigger dildo, warming up as I take it about to the 6 inch mark. I can feel myself wanting to gag. I can tell he is giggling at my discomfort. I wonder if he can see my pussy expand and contract as I drive my face down-wise to impale my mouth on the rubber dildo that is sitting straight up on my desk.

He could be laughing at the whore tattoo. It is hard to say, I hope he isn’t laughing at how I have to practice a few times on the dildo to get my mouth all the way down to the wood grain of my desk, and drive the dildo tip into my throat. If so, he may not believe I am really the cocksmith that Bill claimed me to be, if I can’t deep throat 8 inches.

After two or three tries to take it all, I get sort of a running start, slapping the back of my head with one hand, and pulling it down. “URRKKK” I pull up before I throw up everywhere, leaving only a trail of spit on the dildo. I kiss the slivers of spit back into my mouth.

“C’mon, I am hungry, you have thirty seconds to cram the bigger cock into your ass, or you’ll do without lunch and can just watch me eat.”

His choices for lunch are usually disgusting anyway. I am probably better off taking my time, and missing lunch. I would have except I was still VERY hungry. I didn’t think I ate so much when I was free, but I must have. That or all this training activity has increased my need for caloric intake. I think one of the upsides to having dietary restrictions, is that I’ve trimmed up and may have a little more definition.

Even after the training is over, I may ask Bill to keep choosing my diet, at least at home. Isn’t that weird? I should want to have the freedom to choose what I want, and I am considering delegating the privilege back to my husband? The only question would be, how would it make Chris feel if I didn’t let him choose for me as well?

I would have to table that question, I was already cramming the dildo into my sphincter. I was thankful I had left gobs of my spit all over it, and I had already warmed up my ass with the six incher. It made it much easier to drive it in quickly. I am sure my face contorting and my eyes being wide, told Steve this was quite an effort for me.

He laughed in response “Moooon River!!”, I think that is a line from Fletch he was quoting.

I looked back over my shoulder at him with a wry grin, two inches still sticking out of my ass to get in. He didn’t have a stop watch, so the thirty seconds was an estimate. I wouldn’t have been able to contest his decision if he had decided I hadn’t made it, but he decided I was fast enough for his tastes.

As I got dressed, I want to share with you my secret journal, the feeling of ‘fullness’ I have when I have something crammed up my asshole. There is this sensation, like my skin is tight all over, that it changes how I walk. It isn’t entirely unpleasant, once I get the dildo inside my guts, I almost don’t notice it. The pain is entirely around the asshole nub. The thing I feel most is more a tremendous desire to fart or take a shit - the feeling that the tip of the dildo is poking out of my stomach in the front (even though it probably doesn’t go that far); the feeling that my skin has been tighter all over my body, and this heightened feeling of sexuality; that if he just pulled me by my pussy lips or my hood ring, he’d set off an orgasm.

I haven’t been carrying a purse very much since the training began. I get to carry my purse, because part of my lunch is in there. (I am SOO glad we will probably be done with training before I get my period. I am doubly glad that Jamie and I are pretty much in synch with our periods. I don’t know if Bill has even thought about what he’d do in that situation).

We were going to “Five Guys” today. This is a greasy hamburger place, that I would never have been caught dead in on my lunch break. I used to just work through lunch, with a snack on my desk, or occasionally take power-lunches with other executives in fancy restaurants like the Capital Grille.

Today, I was standing in line, trying to hold the dildo up my butt, by clenching my muscles in line to get a greasy hamburger from “Five Guys”. That is kind of an ironic name, there were six guys working, and one of them was a girl.

Steve ordered for me a plain hamburger. He ordered himself fries, a double bacon burger, and a drink. “Thank you Sir, you are very generous.”

“You are paying, so I thought it was the least I could do?” He hand fed me a peanut that he freshly shelled from a box of them the restaurant has for customers in line. I opened my mouth to accept it, and the dildo PLOOPED right out and clattered on the floor. If I had anything in my bowels, it may have plooped right out at the same time, I was in so much shock.

The line wasn’t long, but everyone including the black lady with two sons, noticed.  How could they not? Everyone was staring at me, like I was the dirtiest whore the world had ever known. I couldn’t very well say “How did that get there?”

I bent at the waist to pick it up. There was no point in getting punished for bending at the knee, after everyone already saw the big eight inch dildo, complete with tiny specks of chocolate pudding.

“May I go to the bathroom, Sir?” I asked Steve, while trying not to maintain eye contact with anyone.

“Why?”

“So I can put it back in?”

“What?”

I wanted to scream at him, to demand he stopped playing with me. Two boys who couldn’t be over twelve years old just saw what “it” was. Saying it wouldn’t help defuse the ticking time bomb that was their angry, black mother.

“My dildo, Sir. I need to put it back in.” I bravely expel the words from my mouth, wishing very hard at that particular moment to be having an out-of-body moment. “Go into the light, Wendy” I picture myself being better off dead at that particularly awkward moment.

“Wouldn’t you rather carry it?”

In truth, I wouldn’t. He’d make me display it on our table, and probably clean it off right there. “No sir, I’d rather put it back where it belongs, up my ass.” I whispered the last part.

“Where?”

“Up my ass”. I say out loud, so even the cashier heard me. The black mother is hugging her youngest in her arms covering his ears, I think she whispered “Sweet Jesus, this white lady be crazy”.

“Why didn’t you just say so? Yes, you can go put it back in. Make sure you don’t drop it again, slut.” He scolded.

This isn’t the first time I’ve ‘plooped’ in a public place and dropped my dildo. The asshole is an EXIT, not an entrance. Whatever goes in, gas and pressure is trying to force back out. It is a war, and if you don’t work at it, the asshole is going to send it back out, slowly or with an ‘across the room’ sort of flying thrust. This was definitely one of the worst places this has ever happened to me though.

When I had it back in, I returned and found Steve sitting at a table. My hamburger was sitting open.

“Would you like me to spit on it?” Bill had convinced Steve I have almost as much gluttony for unhealthy food as I do for cock, and that aversion therapy is to give me fatty foods, but make the experience eating them unpleasant.

“Yes Sir, would you mind?” I continue the charade, by pushing the hamburger over to him, where I can watch with a pained expression as he hocks a loogie on it. “Hocks a loogie” is so much more descriptive then spit on. I haven’t used that expression since grade school. This is where he summons up some phlegm from the bottom of his throat and lets it fall on the patty. Then he slides the burger onto the floor to kick it back to me.

I was almost in tears, but I am too strong to let him see me crack. I just smiled, picked up the burger with my hand, put the bun back on it.

“May I also eat my cheese sandwich, Sir?”

“Does it have cum on it?”

“Yes Sir.”

“How many men’s cum?”

“Two, Sir” I am not lying to him. I am glad he doesn’t ask who were the sperm donors. It is better if Steve thinks I have an addiction to cum and that these are two strangers I’ve milked onto my sandwich. I still feel all this guilt that Chris’s cum is part of the equation. Cum is cum, right? It still makes me so uncomfortable to think about. The only way I’ve been able to justify it, is that he was made to milk himself in a mason jar in front of me, and somehow through my own convoluted system of weak justifications for some of my recent choices, that seems like ironic justice.

I don’t know if Bill has explained to Chris much of our deal about Jamie, and her NOT having to drink their cum, or being told I do. I have just been letting sleeping dogs lie about that. If he had told Jamie, I am sure I would have heard about it.

I think to myself as I eat my two sandwiches without anything to wash it down, that Steve had asked about my daughter in the morning affirmations for a reason. “Any particular reason you asked about my daughter this morning, Sir?” I said as I tried to fill the awkward quietness. I really should have left that issue alone, but I find I just can’t help myself. My curiosity gets the best of me at times, this being one of them.

“Yes, she has your good looks. How old is she?”

I tried to hide my skepticism. When an older man asks about your attractive daughter’s age, Chris Hanson’s face saying, “Would you have a seat over there” starts to appear in your mind. I should however expect guys to be interested in her, even older guys. She isn’t a little girl anymore.

“She is sixteen, Sir.” I let that sink in. I decide sixteen sounds far more foreboding than, “She will be seventeen soon, Sir.” which would also be true.

He looks back at his food, and says nothing else about it. Mission accomplished, Wendy! You were able to head off another wolf in sheep’s clothing. Granted, there are a million of them out there, but how awkward would it be if he started dating Jamie after fucking me every day for two weeks?

Am I just a selfish cunt, who is jealous of her daughter? I hope not. That is a thought I will table along with my son’s cum for another time.

After lunch, it is time to go work out. My office has a “YMCA” with a gym in it. I used to use it occasionally, but I much preferred a more exclusive gym, closer to my house. They probably miss me there; they haven’t seen me all week.

“Do you like licking assholes?” He made his idea of pleasant conversation while we walk back to our building.

“I don’t mind, if they are shaved, Sir.” I lie, trying to sound like a skeezy slut who loves all forms of sexual interaction. In truth, Bill has been uncomfortable with his own asshole being touched, and it hasn’t come up.

“Do you like to sleep with women, too?”

“I slept with one last night, Sir” I smile as I tell the truth. He doesn’t have to know it wasn’t my choice, and I was tied up with my daughter. This only helps me sound like the pig he thinks I am.

“Your husband knew about it?”

“Oh yes, he wanted me too, Sir”.

“Wow, he is REALLY understanding about your sexual addiction? Did you at least do a three way with him?”

“No he slept alone, we were downstairs, Sir.” I suppose I could have lied and said Bill got some, but it felt better for some reason to go with this story. I hate to mix and match lies and truth, but the girl I slept with was my daughter, and how would that have played? Especially since we were tied up together, with flowers sticking out of our buttholes.

“He really accommodates you too much. He must really love you!” Steve seemed genuinely convinced Bill was the patient, understanding good guy. I suppose in a way he is.  “Is this stuff we are doing everyday helping you?”

“Yes Sir, why else would I do all of this?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes you seem like you are getting off on it.”

“You are about to make me put on spandex so tight it shows the indention of my camel toe and my rings, and jog in place, work out until I am exhausted, and you think I enjoy this?” I tried not to sound too critical. I didn’t want him feeling guilty about the supervision he was providing, or else he may back out and the job goes to Vicky.

“You looked excited when you dropped your dildo in front of all those people back at the restaurant.” He gave me an example.

“I was shocked, I think it is a wakeup call on how twisted my life has become.” That wasn’t entirely false. “Would you like to check my pussy, Sir? To see how aroused I am.”

“Cunt?”

“Ooops, Sorry Sir. Yes my cunt. I am supposed to talk about my cum box, without calling it something pleasant and inviting. I am sorry for my goof. Would you please punish me, instead of reporting me to my husband for my mistake?” If he punishes me, there is a good chance Bill will let it go when I get home. Steve is much lighter in punishments than Bill is.

“Not a chance, slut. You took your sweet time making my copies. You dropped your butt plug. I am going to tack forgetting your protocol on to my report.”

Steve enjoyed laying all my mistakes on thick. I wanted to give him the cute little lemon face my daughter does when Chris does the same thing to her, and stick out my tongue. Instead, I just smiled and said “Of course Sir, I have been very lazy and thoughtless. Punishment and correction are the only ways I will be able to get better.”

At this point, we were already at the gym. If there was a way he could take me into the men’s dressing room, I am sure he would. I think I’d actually prefer it. It is much worse, changing in the girl’s dressing room. The scorn and looks of disgust as I strip out of my skirt, obviously having nothing underneath, are like the lashes of mental whips on my body.

The murmurs and whispers about my tattoo are twice as obvious as when they first saw my piercings. The same women are changing about the same time every day in the locker room. I thought they were done being shocked, but the whore tattoo has awoken the same feelings they had the first day I came here.

I pretended not to notice, as I slipped on the spandex aerobics outfit. I think this may be the original 1980s outfit sans the legwarmers that Jane Fonda wore in her workout tapes. I bet every man in the gym, has spanked it to 1980’s aerobics when they were kids. It was like soft-porn, even I could tell that and I was very naïve back in high school.

The white leggings left little to the imagination. They were skin-tight, literally showing the outline of my ass crack, the metal hood ring, all visible underneath. I’d imagine the outline of the tattoo in the back can be seen too. They’ve sent me to work with writing on me in magic marker before, and I know that was partially visible underneath the spandex.

The sports bra, does very little to hide my sweaty tits, as I begin my work out cycle. Steve follows me around like a personal trainer. He is actually pretty good at motivating. “C’mon piggy, let’s work off that hamburger!” As he keeps me on the Nordic track bouncing up and down.

I used to never think about the men staring at me when I did aerobics. I suppose it is a natural by-product of girls jumping around to music, that some guy would want to stop and watch. I can’t stop noticing now. I can’t help but feel their eyes groping me from a distance. I am surprised when I see a guy who isn’t leering at me, and can only assume he is probably gay. The best looking ones at the gym usually are.

Of all the exercise machines that I must use, there is one that I particularly dislike. I have to lay on an incline and spread my thighs, pushing apart two padded leg rests against weighted resistance. It makes me feel like I am spreading and opening my legs, and any guy who happens to park himself nearby can see not only my sweaty pussy outline, but the base of the rubber dildo I still have up my ass pressing against the back of my spandex.

In the process of pushing, I can feel my nipple rings trying to escape from the sports bra, as a sheen of sweat coats my body like baby oil.

Today, Vicky showed up at the gym. I have never seen her there before. She didn’t  say a word to me, but we both locked stares. Why this sudden interest in exercise?

After I was excused from working out, I get to take a shower. I cranked up the hot water, and enjoyed the caress of soap. The most embarrassing part besides people staring at my rings and tattoo, is the fact that everyone I shower with can clearly see the flat rubber base of the dildo up my ass. I have found that despite my desire to explain, it’s best to pretend that this is perfectly normal and say nothing about it.

No one has dared to ask me anything about it. It is also nice to be able to towel dry instead of air dry. I suppose I should be thankful for Chris for helping me appreciate the small pleasures in life, by making them so rare.

Unfortunately, today there is no joy in Wendyville. That is because Vicky has decided to saunter back into the locker room while I am getting dressed. I should have known that being such a novice at exercise, she was showing up there more to pose as if she was working out and would be done in ten minutes. She is the type of person who wants to go to the gym to say, “I went to the gym”, than to get any benefit. (I used to meet them all the time at my gym).

Alarms went off in my head. “RED ALERT!!” I kept my face as calm as I could, while I stood up and faced my backside to the lockers. I clutched my clothes to my breast as she walked over to me.

“Oh, stop it.” She said dismissively.

The jig was up, I started to drop my arms holding my skirt to my chip. It was clear she knew all about my situation.

“Everyone knows you have a perfect body. Don’t try to act all modest.” Vicky’s tone was half-vindictive, which meant she was probably trying to be nice.

“Oh thank you!” What a relief she wasn’t on to everything I had been doing at work, and thought I was just cowering in the corner because I had body image issues. I began to pull the skirt on. “I thought I was putting on weight, I had TWO sandwiches for lunch today.” I was bragging while pretending to be modest. She didn't need to know the condiments were dry cum and fresh spit.

“Wow, piercings and you shave?” her voice sounding strange, since admiration obviously didn’t come naturally to her.

“You like it?” I asked humbly, pulling my skirt up.

“I just wouldn’t have expected it. Mid-life crisis?”

“You could say I am in my mid-life, and I am in crisis. That is probably true.” I smiled as I sashayed out of there. The confused look on her face that I seemed to be comfortable, even happy with my crisis, was worth the price of admission.

As I walked out, I could overhear her whispering behind my back. “What did the tattoo on her ass say?” If I wasn't mistaken, it almost sounded like admiration, and not the underhanded gossip I had come to expect from her. That made me smile for reasons I couldn't explain.

The Family Feud III

Chapter Nineteen
Nuh-Nuh Nineteen

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 36
Get out of jail cards: 1
JAMIE: 39
Get out of jail cards: 1

The following is excerpted from Jamie Taylor’s E-Journal account of a typical day in her life. It is presented to you  with some edits for readability as the phone she used to journal with was missing for a large part of this event. This account is Jamie’s perspective of events that took place on the Friday of her first week of training. This excerpt begins after she has dressed and ran out of the bathroom, to get to her fourth period class. 

OH GOD, OH GOD, OH GOD, OH GOD! Where is my phone? I couldn’t stop wondering how much deep doo-doo I am going to be in if I lose my phone. On top of that, the pictures I am supposed to send every day! These were good pictures too, I was thinking daddy might even give me a gold star for Dave and his friend’s contribution. (He didn’t have to know I didn’t encourage him, but the experience was done and over, no reason I shouldn’t benefit from it, right?).

I am so going to get it when I get home, if I can’t get the phone back. I am sure Sheldon has it. If I hadn’t been in such a hurry to get to Health class I wouldn’t have ran out of the bathroom without it. I still feel like I smell like pee, even though I did my best to wash myself in the sink. Isn’t it ironic they call that a ‘whore’s bath’?

I am SO in hot water, if I can’t track him down. I finally have a class with my brother next period. He will know what to do!

What a surprise to me that I used to think he was useless, but as far as plans go, he will come up with one, I just know it!

For now, all I can do is sit here with my legs spread apart like a stupid slut and smile at Mistress like I am an idiot. I am scratching down these notes on binding paper, so I can put them in my journal later. I would write down the crazy sick dream I just had. Staying up all night at the fair is starting to get to me, couple that with not eating right and I am downright exhausted. I am not thinking straight.

That is why I chalk up the dream about Degrassi junior high to just frazzled nerves, lack of sleep and good diet. Why else dream about Holly J pulling Jimmy around by his wheelchair, like a show pony while he smacks her pale behind with a crop? Only a twisted bitch would document a dream that sordid.

I was surprised I didn’t wake up with my face covered in magic marker, or something sticking out of me. Mistress must be going soft. She didn’t say a word when I dozed off a few minutes ago.

After class, Mistress whispered to me, “You know I am going to tell Chris you feel asleep in class, right?” her voice dripping of venom. She seemed delighted but at the same time, pleased to see me get in trouble. More than usual, I should add.

I didn’t give her the satisfaction of watching me recoil in horror at the idea that I broke one of my brother’s rules. I also didn’t tell her I was in for it much worse, if I can’t get the phone. I probably should have since she is the boss of me and she will eventually find out about it. (If she hasn’t already, that girl is like magic ninja when it comes to learning secrets).

The single sheet of note paper is all that remained of Jamie’s Journal for that time period. You will now be returned to the normal narrative of the story.

Jamie was walked to Physical Education, hand in hand by Cathy Griffin. Cathy toyed with her like she was prey. Cathy loved Jamie’s innocence and vulnerability. She loved the idea of corrupting a new girl, of making her suffer, of punishing. There was no rush, no hurry. She had plenty of time to keep things going. As far as Cathy was concerned, if Jamie did manage to earn all her stars, she would step back in to keep things going. This was too fun, and didn’t require too much work on her end. She wanted to see what happened with just a minimal amount of intervention on her part.

Speaking of intervention, she saw Chris standing with several boys dressed out in in Gym Shirts. The guys with great abs in half-shirts or none at all, while the guys like Chris in full t-shirts. She led her protégée’ to where he was standing.

“Can we dress out first, Mistress?” Jamie stammered.

“Why? Do you think it will matter much in Chris’s decision, or are you stalling?” Cathy answered back without slowing down their stroll over to the guys.

“I guess, stalling, Ma’am.” Jamie hated to admit she really couldn’t think of a good reason for her protest.

“Your sister has something to tell you.” Cathy announced loud enough that the other boys who were assembling for roll call could hear. Class had not started yet, but once dressed out, the boy’s half of the class was to meet on one side of the gym and the girls on the other.

Chris looked expectantly at his sister with his arms folded. There were several other boys, who were intrigued, as many of them suspected there had been some sort of power shift. A week ago, Jamie never even acknowledged her brother even though he was in the same class.

“I fell asleep in Health and Social Studies, Sir. I am sorry about that!” Jamie sounded apologetic. Some of the guys lost interest in the conversation. That was not a big deal, they were hoping for something juicy.

“I see. Anything else?”

“I think I may have left my phone with your friend Sheldon, Sir” Jamie offered hesitantly. Chris arched an eyebrow, that WAS noteworthy. Cathy was surprised that the little bitch hadn’t offered up that offense. She put her hands on her hips to punctuate her mood.

“Okay, that is probably going to get your ass turned red.” Chris smiled. The other boys high fived, most of them thinking that was an exaggeration on Chris’s part, but a few who knew otherwise just smiled devilishly.

“Can you ask him to give it back? I need to send Dad the pictures.” Jamie stopped short of revealing what kind of pictures, and Chris didn’t push the issue in front of these guys. They weren’t his buddies from lunch class. Most of them were jocks who delighted in tripping him or throwing the ball directly at his fat head in kick ball.

“You owe me if I do this for you.” He grinned before dismissing her. “Go get dressed out before you get in trouble for that too!” Chris was on top of the world. The good fortune of punishing his sister with one of his many ‘Correction Cards’ would be soon at hand, and it was all her dumb luck.

Jamie dashed off not waiting for Cathy. She had been given an order by Chris, so technically she didn’t have to dally along with Cathy. Jamie knew it was not advisable to cross Cathy, but right then she simply wanted to please her brother and get the phone back.

The black shorts and white t-shirt offered far more modesty than her cheer uniform. She quickly changed at her locker. She put on her tennis shoes and sprinted back for roll call just in the nick of time. It felt great to be out of those stiletto heels for a little while. She took a seat Indian style with the other girls. The fact she had on no bra, or panties under her uniform really did not bother her amongst the girls.

“Today, it is volleyball, girls.” The substitute teacher explained. Their substitute could best be described as a very butch woman with a short mullet perm, and the face of a man wearing makeup. Jamie felt like the woman was leering at her, something that would never have occurred to her before her training. She would have blithely gone about sprinting, jumping and stretching as if she didn’t even realize anyone would want to look at her nubile body. She shuddered now as she pictured the grinning face of the obviously lesbian coach staring while they showered after class.

The boys had just received their own instructions from their coach, and were taking places on the opposite side of the gym on blue wrestling mats.

“Do you like your brother’s corrections?” Cathy asked Jamie as they walked over to pick teams for their game.

“Absolutely not, Ma’am!” In truth, Jamie had been such a good girl, she hadn’t had many corrections.  This wasn’t the first time Cathy had tried to get Jamie to admit she was enjoying this.  Each time, Jamie had vehemently denied it. Even if there had been some positive things she had received from the training, she wasn’t enjoying this discipline and the hardships.

There was obviously a part deep down inside of Jamie that was confused, and possibly excited about the adventure she was undertaking. The signals constantly to her body from the piercings were only making the question less black and white.

The majority of her common sense told her that she should not ‘enjoy’ this. “How could you enjoy being poked, prodded, laughed at, and made to follow orders, anyway?” she asked herself.

“Then go over to your brother, beg to wrestle today. I am sure coach will let you, if you play up the ‘Anything boys can do, I can do better’ angle. She is a militant feminazi. I can tell just by looking.” Cathy explained.

Jamie stifled the urge to scrunch her nose like she just smelled something foul. Instead, she asked why she would do that.

“Go to Chris, beg him that if you wrestle today, and put on a good show, he’ll help you get your phone back and suspend your corrections. Then maybe he won’t tell your Dad. I mean, you clearly have no problem lying to your betters through omission. You didn’t tell ME that you had lost your phone. Now I know you are a conniving liar. Something I didn’t think you had in you.” It was hard to tell if Cathy was being scornful for being lied to or pleased that Jamie showed promise as a manipulator.

“It isn’t like that, Ma’am”. Jamie wanted to explain herself, although she had justified leaving out that detail to Cathy, so it really was like that. She had already been selected for a volleyball team. She would have to make up her mind if she was going to take Cathy’s advice before they started playing.

“Coach, can I go see if I can wrestle, I think I would rather do that?”

Jamie’s question put an alligator smile on the Coach’s face. “You? Wrestle?”

“Yes, Ma’am. Anything the boys can do, I can do.” Jamie left off the “Better” part, since technically she was supposed to believe that Boy’s rule/Girl’s drool.

“Right, but we are doing volleyball, so how about you get your ass back over there?”

“Are you afraid I will lose to the guys?”

“I am afraid they will want to grope you and worse.” The Coach laughed.

“Are you saying that when guy’s wrestle each other, they grope each other and feel each other up, Ma’am?” Jamie countered her logic.

“Go ask Coach Andretti, if you want to try it, be my guest.” The broad-shouldered female coach shrugged.

Jamie smiled. She had managed to make her case. It didn’t dawn on her that she was doing exactly what Cathy wanted and that was probably a bad idea until she was half-way across the gym to talk to her brother.

He was sitting by himself on the floor of the gym while two boys were wrestling on the mat.

“Sir, if I agree to wrestle, will you let me out of my punishments and help me get my phone?” She tapped her brother on the shoulder.

“All three punishments?” He gazed back up at her lazily.

Jamie wasn’t sure which ones she was in for, she looked at him innocently.

“Don’t give me that face, you manipulator.” He looked away from his sister’s sweet expression. “You are supposed to send Dad pictures of you masturbating every day, that is one offense. The second is you lost your phone. The third is you fell asleep in class. You want all three to be forgiven if you can wrestle?” He asked incredulously.

“Yesterday, you let me out of punishment if I let myself get hit in the chest and butt during dodge ball, Sir?” She asked.

His sister was lithe and athletic, able to dodge gracefully during the co-ed dodge ball games. He was not only an easy target for the girls, his own team would sometimes hit him in the back of the head with the ball simply out of spite. He had wanted her to get a taste of the bitter medicine that was dished out to him regularly in PE. She was supposed to purposely jump in front of the ball and get hit. It had ended up being cute, and the guys thought she was rather brave for purposely stepping in front of the ball. It wasn’t what Chris had wanted to see at all. He wanted her to eat that rubber ball hard a few times.

“That was because you rolled your eyes when a man was talking to you, a simple infraction level punishment.” Chris was referring to one of his friends laying a very corny line on his sister the day before. Even he had rolled his eyes at how awkward the boy’s delivery of his line had been.

“I am sorry about that, Sir. What can I do then to make it up?”

The male PE Coach blew his whistle at her. “Uh, do you have some reason to be over here on the boy’s side?”

“I was seeing if my brother would be embarrassed if I wanted to wrestle, Sir.” She answered him honestly.

“You are asking Wagon Wheels Taylor, if he would be embarrassed during PE? You haven’t watched him try to climb rope, obviously. Every day is an embarrassment for him.” Several boys laughed along with the coach at Chris’s expense.

The natural way the coach used this language to put down her brother, and the easy acceptance the boys had of it was an obvious indicator that this Coach didn’t sugar coat anything.  The female coach was much more supportive and positive, but it was clear to Jamie that on the boy’s side of the gym, they got a little more crude and rude if even the teacher took that tone.

His sarcastic comments did not sit well with Jamie. She felt terrible that she had let her friends mock Chris in the past. “That is my brother, Sir. I’d appreciate it if you were nice to him.”

“Are you going to wrestle me to death, if I am not?” The Coach was of obvious Italian descent, with the swagger of a New Jersey native.

“No, because you are too chicken to let me wrestle. My coach said you would say that.” Jamie’s courage was bolstered by the skeptical look on the coach’s face. It was daring her to offer to wrestle. She hadn’t concluded her bargain with her brother, but she assumed if she put on a good show, he would help her.

“She did, did she? I have no problem with co-ed wrestling. The problem is, I don’t think you understand how it works. It involves physical contact. That means getting down on the mat.”

As he finished his sentence, Jamie was already on all fours on the mat. “On all fours, like this, right, Sir?” Her butt was in the air. She was in the same position her and her mom spent most of their mornings travelling up and down the stairs.  She did her best to make a flirty and fun face, while starting to second guess if she had made the right choice.

“Wrestling requires mental alertness, physical quickness, flexibility and strength. To wrestle, you need to know three basic positions.” The coach instructed her. She couldn’t be sure if he was leering at her or genuinely talking to her about the sport. “You are in the bottom position. Lean back a little on your laces, so you can explode up. Who wants to volunteer to show Taylor the top position?”

There was an explosion of hands. No one seemed very shy at the idea of wrestling a girl. Chris was the only one who didn’t extend his hand.

“What is a matter, you don’t want a chance to pin your Sister, tubby?” the Coach taunted her brother.

“It isn’t that, I just don’t want to, is all.” Chris was reverting to the way Jamie had seen him act before her training. The shy, unconfident, unmotivated, awkward teenager.

“He can’t handle what the Jamie is cooking!” Jamie’s broad smile and delivery of the infamous wrestling taunt, while wiggling her ass made even the hardened coach laugh along with the rest of the boys.

“This isn’t that kind of wrestling. I take wrestling very seriously. I was a collegiate athlete, so no showboating, out here Taylor.” He warned Jamie. “The problem I am having with you participating in this exercise, is I don’t trust any of these apes not to touch you in places you might not want to be touched. If your brother comes up, hopefully he can resist the urge to do that, and it may just be a fair fight. The worst of the guys against a girl.”

Jamie couldn’t tell if he was chewing gum, or the square-jawed Italian man just talked in a cadence that made it appear he was perpetually chewing gum.

Jamie used her line that had worked on the girl’s substitute coach. “If they grope me, does that mean they grope each other when they wrestle?”

“Look, I see your game. You want to see how far you can push things. You can play grab-ass in the showers, and wiggle your butt on your own time. You are that girl I keep seeing on the posters around here, aren’t you?” The Coach put his whistle in his mouth, as if to dismiss Jamie back to the girl’s side of the gym. He wasn’t going to take her bait.

“No, I’ll wrestle her, Coach. I’d like too.” Chris stood up.

“You want to do something in Phys. Ed? Be still my beating heart”. The coach put his hand across his chest, in a mock heart attack.

“Okay, stop wasting our time then, and get out here for an exhibition match. If you can’t beat a girl, you’ll do jumping jacks until the end of class. Understood tubby?”

Chris didn’t like that condition, but he agreed. He was already on top of his sister, his chin on her back, his arm under her stomach in the “Top position”. Unlike his sister, he had at least a basic knowledge of how wrestling was supposed to work, even though he had never won a match.

“Don’t worry, I’ll let you win.” Jamie whispered to her brother, as the whistle blew signaling they should start their match. Chris outweighed her easily by over a hundred pounds, physically though she was more than a match for him in endurance and agility.

He pulled her feet out from behind her and flipped her on her side, using his weight to try to hold his sister down. “Don’t you dare let me win. You wrestle as hard as you can, and maybe we’ll talk about the punishments.” He whispered back.

“Hey you two love birds, let’s see some wrestling!” the Coach demanded of the two of them. They were deadlocked, with Jamie struggling to free herself from her brother’s weight, while refusing to lay her shoulder blades flat on the mat.

“If I don’t let you win, won’t you be mad if coach makes you do jumping jacks?” She shifted her weight at the hips, and did a fast break to pull herself back on top of him, her shirt riding up so that her flat abdomen was exposed.

“Nice Reversal!” The Coach cheered at Jamie.

She smiled, she had no idea there was a name for it. She had just reflexively tried to use Chris’s own weight against him, and push out to get on top of him. She lacked the size to hold him down, and he flipped over on to his stomach, to avoid being pinned while she remained on top of him.

Brother and sister were wrapped up in arms, legs and various pushes and pulls.

“If you’ve taught me anything, it is that if I lose, to own up to the consequences.” Chris struggled with his sister, trying to flip her off his back, locking hands with her.

Jamie had not expected to hear that from him. He was willing to do jumping jacks all class if he lost, and she was flattered that it was because of some lesson she had apparently taught him. She hadn’t thought about her training as being any sort of role model. If she were writing in her journal about it, she would have written “That really threw me for a loop.”

As it was, she was locked in a struggle with her brother, and he was winning. The guys in the class, and many of the girls were watching the match with their full attention.

She didn’t feel groped, when he was on top of her, the feeling was more like a heavy weight sweating down on her. Chris was playing fair, and wrestling hard.

In fact, that is when she noticed, he was literally wrestling hard. His dick had become hard, while he was wrestling his sister, and she could feel its familiar girth pressing into her back.

The coach immediately blew his whistle to end the match as tittering giggles erupted among the students who noticed Chris’s bulging shorts. “Taylor, tell me you are wearing a cup, and it just dislodged?” He said in an even more patronizing voice than he normally used.

Jamie could relate to her brother’s dilemma. She too had been the victim of her body’s betrayal, her nipples getting hard with arousal at times she wished they didn’t. He was lying on top of her, and she could sense he was feeling tremendous embarrassment, it was a feeling she knew all too well.

She decided that if he did not want her to let him win, she could at least give him one gift.

She wriggled under him and reached underneath herself as she belly crawled forward. In the process of moving forward, she pulled herself out of her own shorts, leaving them under her brother, as she broke free to a standing position.

What began as tittering giggles, erupted into full scale laughter as the full weight of the attention of both the male and female gym classes fell upon Jamie’s naked posterior. She tugged her shirt down instinctively, using her hands to cover her pussy, but it left her ass completely exposed.

No one was laughing at Chris, his erection being small potatoes to the girl awkwardly standing over her brother, with the pale tattooed ass.

The Coaches blew their whistles, and Andretti pulled her shorts from beneath Chris, as if he were moving a beached whale back into the ocean. He threw them at Jamie in disgust, not making eye contact.

“This is why girls shouldn’t wrestle.” He announced, but he was drowned out by the laughter that hadn’t quite died down enough to get back to running his class, and he knew it wouldn’t until it ran the full course on its own.

“Awkward!” one of the boy’s in the crowd shouted, as Jamie stepped back into her shorts, and Chris continued to lay on his erect penis like it was a landmine he had thrown himself on to save his platoon.

“You don’t wear any athletic support wear, Taylor?” the Coach asked, his ego unable to just let the entire humiliating experience go away without comment.

“No Sir, I don’t have anything to put in a jock strap.” Jamie said playfully, letting her waist band snap. She wouldn’t have had the courage to be this playful, if it hadn’t been for the fact she had spent the last week exposed in awkward ways, supported by appreciative laughter.

“I didn’t get a good look at it, but I thought you did there for a minute, you sure you are in the right class, Taylor?” The Coach was exactly the crude, politically incorrect, misogynistic ape you thought of when you looked at him. He was referring to her clit ring that everyone had seen for just a split second before she pulled up her shorts.

“Sorry Sir, flat as a pancake.” She slapped herself playfully on the crotch, pretending that her spank did not just send chills up her spine as it connected with her new hoop. The day before, it truly had been flat as a pancake.

“Get back to the girl’s side, Taylor. I think we’ve seen a little too much of you.” The Coach said with a grin as he turned to Chris. “Tubby, stop laying around. I am sure whatever you had going on, has subsided. It’s safe to get up.” Reminding everyone he had an erection as he goaded the fat student.

Chris started to pull himself up and get back to his seat as his sister and the girls walked back to their side of the gym.

“Don’t sit down, Fatty.”

“Why not coach?” Chris had conveniently tucked himself so that his erect cock was concealed while he sat.

“You didn’t beat your Sister, so you do jumping jacks. Wasn’t that the deal?”

“But coach, she didn’t beat me, either. It was a tie!” He stood up helplessly in protest.

“If I wanted your opinion Taylor, I would ask for it, now get to it.” The Coach said in a tone of voice that reminded Jamie of how Chris had given instruction to her and her mother this past week.

Jamie turned back towards the blue mats and took a place by her brother, doing jumping jacks. In comparison to his jiggly, slow jumping jacks, her form was perfect. The kind you would see on an exercise video. Each jump perfectly timed so that her hands were above her head in a crisp clap, before jumping again to bring her feet back together. This was easy for a girl who spent most of her life as a cheerleader.

The Coach challenged her coming back, “I think we’ve seen more than we needed to see of you.”

“Did I win? Nope. The deal was, if I didn’t win, I do jumping jacks, right, Sir?” It hadn’t been. The Coach had never given her any ultimatum. He had only sadistically insisted Taylor do the jumping jacks, because he enjoyed watching fat kids sweat and he knew he could press the issue to make him do it.

Jamie didn’t break stride between jumps. Her tits bounced slightly in the shirt, but no more than one might expect of firm, pert, teenage boobs in a t-shirt. It didn’t seem out of place in the gym, as it may have anywhere else.

“Good point, you can both do jumping jacks.” The Coach didn’t look back, he wanted to focus on getting back to the core principles of Wrestling. These two had been enough of a distraction. Every now and then boys would glance over at Jamie and lick their lips, following her up and down as she did jumping jacks without pause.  They were however, no longer the laughing stock of the gymnasium.

“Why did you do all that?” Chris puffed out a breath, as he stopped and started again trying to keep pace with his sister.

“Do what, Sir?” Jamie replied innocently, with  a grin.

“Do you want a spanking? You know what.” Chris’s heavy breathing accentuated the fact he was kidding about the spanking. He knew she was well aware of what he was talking about.

“You are my brother. I didn’t like to see the Coach make fun of you, Sir.” Jamie wasn’t lying. It had bothered her.

“You never stood up for me before.”

She winced. It dawned upon her that it had not gone unnoticed by Chris in the years leading up to this, that not only had she ignored him, but she had never defended him. Her position as a ‘cool, attractive girl’ probably could have shielded him from some of the scorn he had faced on a daily basis. Even if she wasn’t cool and attractive, she knew in her heart, that she had been a coward to ignore him and not stand up for him. That is how she was looking at it now, as she wondered why she had never felt the need to defend him.

“I never really understood morning wood, until I got my piercing. I remember seeing you or Dad tucking yourselves in, in the morning, adjusting and thinking you were gross. The piercings have made me painfully aware of what happens when your body shows signs you are thinking dirty thoughts, even if you aren’t.” She was not even remotely winded by her jumping jacks.

“What makes you think I wasn’t thinking dirty thoughts?” He grinned, no longer trying to keep pace with his sister, settling into a slower rhythm and only putting his hands half way over his head as he jumped.

Jamie didn’t want to think too hard about that question. Instead she explained her motivation, “I was going to let you win, but you wanted to face me and win on your own. That impressed me. You were willing to stand up here and accept the consequences of losing to me, Sir”.

Chris was doing half the jumping jack his sister was, as he attempted to conserve energy. “So that is why you whipped your shorts off?”

“You told us if you farted, we are too pretend we did it.” She was reminding him about a rule he made up, half in jest at the fair the night before. “Since you had a boner, and I knew you were going to be laughed at, I decided to go ahead and sacrifice my vanity, and put the focus on me.”

“That is really cool, thank you.” Chris was genuinely appreciative of his sister’s sacrifice.

“It doesn’t matter. When we get to the pep rally, everyone in the entire school is going to see me bottomless. Then I’ll be kicked off the squad.” Jamie’s tone becoming  melancholy, but not breaking her pace with the jumping jacks.

“You don’t have to show everyone? It isn’t a rule.” Chris offered to his sister, feeling sympathy for her situation that he hadn’t until recently.

“You and dad cut my spanks out. What did you think would happen at the pep rally? I am part of a pyramid, the girl below me has to put her fist directly on my cunt to lift  me up, and I have to hold my leg up over my head. I’ll be lucky if they don’t stop the show before I get that far, Sir.”

“You could tell them you have your period, and stomach cramps. You can’t do the show.”

“Then what happens at the game? Or next week, Sir?” Jamie didn’t like the idea of lying in the first place. Every time she had lied, she had only dropped herself in deeper than before, made her situation worse somehow.  She knew girls did use those excuses to stay out of a show, but she had never missed a game, even when she wasn't feeling well.

“You have one week until you are done with the training, then you get to go back to Jamie the cool teenager, too cool to hang out with her brother. I can understand, having to keep a lower profile. Cheering is important to you.” He gasped, pausing between words to catch his breath every so often.

“You think popularity and cheering is more important to me than my own brother, Sir?”

“Isn’t it?”

“If it was, do you think I would have dropped my shorts, and let everyone catch a glimpse of my fat ass, Sir?” She smiled. She noted that from that time to time, Chris seemed to match the pace of her jumping jacks, almost as if in reply to some of the things she said.

“Your ass isn’t fat, Sis.” Chris rolled his eyes at his sisters response dismissively.

“Thank you Sir” She thanked him for the compliment. “It bothers me you think I will not hang out with you after this week is up. Do you really think that I am so shallow I will ignore you after all we’ve been through, Sir?”

“You aren’t anxious to get your old life back?” Chris answered her question with one of his own.

“I won’t be able to go back to my old life. You, Dad and Cathy have seen to that, Sir.” Jamie sounded wistful, punctuating her words with an overhead clap as she completed another perfect jumping jack. “I’ve had to re-evaluate the things that are important to me this past week. Why do I even participate in cheerleading?” She asked rhetorically.

“So you can get into a good college?” Chris replied unaware the question was rhetorical.

“There are some competitive scholarships, but our team doesn't go to competitions.” She smiled, Chris hadn't even thought about scholarships, and that was something Jamie had explored since she first got to high school.

“No, I guess not. So why do girl’s cheer?”

“I guess, school spirit? Ever since I was old enough to hold a pom-pom, I wanted to be a cheerleader. I think later it became about acceptance, and belonging to a clique of over-achieving girls, Sir. I honestly don’t know why we do it, now that I think about it.” Jamie’s reply was honest, and her voice slowed as she searched herself for the reasons.

“So are you going to quit cheerleading?” he asked.

“I might as well. I can spend more time with the family then, Sir”

“You want to spend time with me and Dad after everything we have made you do?” Chris was genuinely shocked.

“Yes Sir, I won’t hold a grudge, if you don’t.”

“What do I have to hold a grudge about?” Chris asked flippantly, catching up to his sister’s pace in jumping jacks.

“Well, before you had power over me, Don’t you remember I made you put a leash around your dick, and then brought you downstairs so you could do jumping jacks as sloppy as you are doing them now, Sir?” She giggled.

Chris smiled and in response, put one foot behind him to kick his sister in the butt as a joke. “Oh yeah, I had almost forgotten about that.”

Jamie didn’t believe he really had forgotten her disciplining him and treating him harshly. Things had gotten much more intense a few days before the party at their house that changed everything. She smiled at the thought that he had gotten over it, and obviously forgiven her for her cruelty.

“Go out with a bang then.” Chris said after a pregnant pause in their talk.

“What Sir?” Jamie wasn’t following his logic or what he was talking about.

“If you are going to quit cheerleading, do something really wild at the pep rally.”

“And get suspended in the process, Sir?” Jamie didn’t want another banana-in-the-bathroom incident. She was well aware at this point of who her benefactor had been, and that if not for the principal’s indiscretions being on Cathy Griffin’s cell phone, he wouldn’t have buried that incident and retired right after.

“You’ve never been in trouble, what is the most they can do? Suspend you for a week?”

“Be home for all of next week with Dad? He’d probably send me outside on all fours with Rosco!” Jamie was only exaggerating mildly with her guess. She wasn’t sure what he would do, but she felt he would definitely make life worse for her if she got suspended.

“Are you chicken?” Chris asked with a smile.

“It would probably make the local news, and be on my permanent record, Sir.” Jamie pouted in response.

“Let’s hope I don’t see a duck lip starting to form on that pretty face of yours.” Chris teased her about her tone. “You still are getting punished for losing the phone, falling asleep in class, and not sending Dad the pictures. You don’t want a fourth infraction.”

“Sir? I thought you were going to cut me some slack?” Jamie pleaded.

“When did I say that I would?” He shrugged into his jump, without any sympathy for her plight.

“I just thought because I helped you?” Jamie did not get to finish her sentence.

“You wanted to help me. So you should be rewarded for something you wanted to do? Your kindness comes with strings? You will only be benevolent to your pathetic brother, if it gets you out of trouble with Dad?” Chris shamed her.

“That isn’t fair.” She answered, “That isn’t what I meant at all.” She conceded his point. “I will face my punishment when I get home, and I won’t ask for mercy. Is that what you wanted to hear, Sir?”

“Actually, I wanted to hear you would go out with a bang at the pep rally.”

“How about I do it at the game tonight, Mom and Dad will probably come, and they can watch me hang up my pom-poms for good.”

“Really, Sis?”

“Yes Sir. Will you give me some stars, and come up with the plan?”

“I thought you’d never ask!” Chris winked at his sister, a big grin spreading across his face.

The Family Feud III

Chapter Twenty
“Jamie's E-Journal Entry Three”

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 36
Get out of jail cards: 1
JAMIE: 39
Get out of jail cards: 1

The following is excerpted from Jamie Taylor’s E-Journal account of a typical day in her life. It is presented to you with slide edits for readability of dialogue without change in context. This account is Jamie’s perspective of events that took place on the Friday of her first week of training. This excerpt begins shortly after her 5th period gym class.

I was walking tall, chest out, smiling and laughing on my way to my final class of the day. I had just re-evaluated my priorities in life and was attempting to summon the courage to carry out my brother’s plan later tonight. That would be a doozy of a step if I can go through with it.

When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a pretty princess, a ballerina, a model, a celebrity, a singer, and a cheer leader. I stopped pretending to be most of those things by middle school, but for some reason I had actually followed through with cheer surge camps and spirit jubilees. It had been my version of girl scouts (although  I had been one of those as well).

I made friends, learned how to dance and put on a positive front, and bought into the illusion that cheerleading is how to be popular and what girls that look like me are supposed to do with their time - thin, pretty girls. How shallow is that?  I assumed because of how nature gifted me with these looks, I was supposed to use them to cheer at sporting events?

If my life hadn’t been turned upside down and all around, I may never have realized that while I was busy pursuing the childhood fantasy, I was missing out on so many other things. I didn’t date, because I was too busy and it may interfere with my extracurricular activities. I didn’t spend time with the family, because I was too busy with what I had going on. It was becoming clearer to me now, that I had my priorities in the wrong order.

I have to ask myself, do I want to respectfully resign and hang up my pom-poms quietly, or should I go out with a bang? If it amuses Chris and Bill and I get stars out of it, going out with a bang made a lot of sense. It also scared me to think about it. It would be wilder than the tattoo, the Spongeboob thing and the pillory all combined if I can pull it off!

Mistress had me by the hand. She was walking me to class. I wasn’t listening to her, I was happy. I had my phone back. My brother had just forgiven me for falling asleep in class because of all the good things I did the night before that kept me up. I had sent the pictures to my dad, and I wouldn’t be punished when I get home.

I was on cloud nine about how well things were going. I didn’t mind sitting down in Art class with my legs spread wide. This class of all my classes, was the least embarrassing of all of them for me to behave that way.  Mrs. Morgan is a young, idealistic teacher with a very free spirit. She never said anything about the way I had to sit. She either didn’t notice, or simply didn’t care.

I didn’t stop smiling when I was told we would have a guest speaker and he was a male. He would be just like my other male instructors, able to see my cunt as I sat as instructed, pretending to be blissfully unaware of their attention. Cathy tried to worry me about it, but I nodded and gave her a submissive look like it didn’t faze me. I had been getting good at that, and in truth it really didn’t faze me.

That is until I saw him walk in. Why on Earth did it have to be Bradley Jenkins? The hunky older guy kept showing up when I least expected. Why now? This week? Couldn’t it have been next week when this nightmare is over?

“A double major in art and philosophy from Dartmouth would be guest-speaking.” Mrs. Morgan had warned us, and I hadn’t given it much thought when she said it.

This is why he was back at home, to talk to high school students about art?

It was obvious when the steamy hunk sauntered in the room that he knew Mrs. Morgan. He knew her well enough that he gave her an innocent kiss on the cheek. That made sense. She is a beautiful well-educated young teacher in her early twenties, and he is in college. They were dating.

If that is the case, why do I think there is some weird chemistry between us?

“Abstract expressionists sought universal themes. Some artists, like Jackson Pollock, were influenced by the psychoanalyst Carl Jung. The use of Carl Jung’s ideas led artists to believe if they could tap into certain colors or shapes, then they could tap into the viewer’s subconscious and evoke certain emotions.” He had already begun speaking. I could feel him look right through me as he talked about art on a level I could not even comprehend. I am normally one of the ones who seem to get everything. Looking around at the other students, they seemed to get it, why wasn’t I?

“Some Abstract Expressionists sought to use their shockingly new and different style to reinvent older art themes for the modern world (the nude female, for example). Other Expressionists liked the idea of physically involving oneself in the making of a piece; forming a composition became a “dance” of paint and form.” It was getting hot as he continued to talk about the nature of art. I was starting to sweat. I could feel my pussy getting wetter and throb.

He wasn’t looking at me as he spoke. Then almost as if time stopped he asked Mrs. Morgan if there had been a volunteer.

“Why yes, but only one person signed up.” She sounded resigned to the lack of student interest in whatever the project was. That wasn’t unusual, most people hated to do extracurricular activities. She had once arranged a field trip to an art museum and only a few of us actually bothered to get the permission slips to attend. Students my age are usually more interested in what Snooki is doing than seeing true culture.

You would think they would love a chance to get off campus during school hours, but not for culture or art. I was curious who the volunteer might be, but I already had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“Who is this brave volunteer?” he asked.

I could feel all eyes in the class room upon me as she said my name. I hadn’t signed up for anything?  I looked at Mistress, her grinning eyes darting back and forth like the Cheshire Cat. I truly felt like Alice in Wonderland and that I was being whisked to the surreal wonderland of fairy tales. She had obviously signed me up.

I stood up, to the sounds of laughter from my class mates. Did they know what I had volunteered for? I didn’t.

All week I had wondered when the shoe may drop in art class. I had wondered what evil Cathy might have for me to do in Art. My mind had raced with possibilities all week. Fortunately the most provocative thing Cathy had me do was just to make a giant clay dildo and submit it to Mrs. Morgan to be fired in the kiln. The teacher only laughed, other than bongs it was the most common joke submission she received. It had been a non-issue and I was sent back to make a boring ashtray instead.

“After painting a series of biomorphic abstractions in the late 1940s, de Kooning shocked the art world by reintroducing figuration in paintings of women –also shocking because of the brutal way he depicted his subject

-took him almost two years to paint, repainting  a series of women paintings, until he had them perfect to his eye. The idea of the nude female form as the embodiment of beauty and grace, but now done in a radically new and different way with raw colors and violent strokes; he took an older theme of the nude female and made it modern.”

Brad was explaining a painting that seemed to me to be a jumble of mad brush strokes and imagery. It was obviously a copy, not the original, but it almost seemed alive with energy that threatened to swallow me into it.

“I assume you have no objection to being our model?” Brad asked me innocently.

“Do I need to disrobe?” I asked wide-eyed. My nipples hardened like ice that was at that point when it freezes and shatters due to how brittle it has become from the cold.

“Yes of course, you don’t mind if it is for art, do you?” His reassuring smile, had a menacing edge to it. I felt cold, alone, afraid.

I began to strip, first removing my top to reveal my breasts, the piercings dangling, the hoops seeming to be twice as large as I remembered them, pulling my nipples down with their weight. I dropped my uniform top and then proceeded to step out of my skirt, revealing my hairless cunt, whore tattoo and giant clit.

I was shocked that the response in the room was a deafening silence. “Shall I remove my heels and my collar, sir?”

“I believe those are perfect, please step into the artists box, Jamie.”

“Artists box?” I asked sheepishly.

I do not recall him walking in with a large box. There was a wooden cage with iron bars just off to the side of the Teacher’s desk. It was painted like a circus calliope organ, garishly decorated, gilded with brass and ornamentation.

“Crawl inside, Jamie.”

I got on all fours, wiggling my ass. I could hear the giggles now. I do not know why I was so eager to comply and do as I was told. I could only comply with his wishes like some devil-sainted zombie who serves her Vampiric master. I crawled into the cage and he locked it on me.

“De Kooning painted his irritation with women. Pain is a certainty, Jamie.” He held a whip in his hands, whipping his palm to punctuate his words. “Women perpetually pursue pleasure, but so seldom obtain it. Pain is absolute. You will always find it, wherever you look. You should seek out pain, for it is far less fleeting and it will never desert you. ”

“Please no? I want out of this cage.” I begged, my hands wrapped around the cage bars in terror. I could not stand, I had to remain on all fours, my ass and cunt presented to the sadistic faces of the classroom.

“Do you Jamie? Is it not a certainty that women take from us, without giving in return? Should you be delivered from your cage?”

“Yes Sir! Please let me out!” I sobbed.

“The ancient Romans in the forums said that Man, were he to be without woman, would converse with the gods.”

“Please, don’t lock me in here, Sir. I want to be free.”

“Jamie, is it not natures intention for man to conquer woman? Otherwise the sexes would be equal strength. Can you name ten inventions created by women? Ten innovations that warrant a change of my opinion, or should you be my property to do with as I please, to whip for my amusement, to pleasure me, without thought for anything other than your pain?”

I could not think of ten buildings or empires or inventions women had created. I couldn’t think of ten diseases they had cured, or where they dominated in any industry other than porn and child care.  Even in porn, the pimps and porn producers were the males.

Reluctantly, I felt no choice but to give him my answer.

“Jamie, am I boring you that much?”

“What Sir?”

“I asked if my lecture is that dull?”

“Dull?” I looked around with alarm. The cage was gone, my clothes were on, the students were however laughing sadistically. I had fallen asleep again. The night before had sapped me of my energy, it probably hadn’t helped I spent the last hour doing jumping jacks.

I reached for my phone, it was still gone. I hadn’t recovered it. It started to dawn on me, I hadn’t sent the pictures to my father, nor had I been forgiven for falling asleep the first time.

The bell rang, releasing us to the pep rally.

The real Brad Jenkins was still looking at me with a charming grin as the other students packed up their books to file into the gym.

“Don’t worry kiddo, I am tired too.” He said noticing I wasn’t completely registering what he said. I was lost in his dreamy blue eyes. “Remember? I saw you at the fair last night?”

Oh did I remember. He had been on my mind several times since then. If anything from my dream had been real, it had been my hard nipples and soaked cunt. It sounds so nasty to say cunt, I wonder if my Dad would be mad if I called it something else in my journal? He isn’t supposed to be reading it anyway.

Then again, I am not allowed privacy of any kind, and if we had caught him or Chris writing on their journals we would not have hesitated to read them.  Sometimes I get so confused and torn on my motivations.

“Yes, I remember, Sir.” I stammered, trying to recover my composure. I realized he had been waiting for my response to his question.

“I thought you were my brother’s age, I was surprised to find you in advanced art appreciation.” He gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder. His touch sent a wave of chills down my spine that felt like a xylophone mallet tapping on every bone in my body.

“I am a junior, actually. Gerald is very advanced for his age. My brother is his friend.” I stumbled awkwardly with my words all jumbled.

“I can see that he is.” His gaze seemed to appraise me one more time, before excusing himself. “Walk you to the pep rally?” He offered me his hand. “I used to go here two years ago, I think I remember you.” He smiled as we walked.

He was modest about his accomplishments at Cherry Lawn. It turns out we simply moved in completely different circles socially, and that is why I had no recollection of him. He guessed either I had been a junior varsity cheerleader (Since I am varsity now) or he had actually noticed me as a Freshman. I was flattered to be talking to him and walking with him. Cathy had even let me go with him unsupervised. I guess she had a heart after all.

We continued down the stairs and towards the gym. His confidence and charm making me swoon like a goofy kid. To him, I probably was a goofy kid. I had fallen asleep in his lecture and dreamt this completely perverted fantasy starring him. I had said earlier in my journal that only a wicked bitch would record their filthy wet dreams. I say a lot of things.

I am about to change my mind about that. I think maybe I really am a wicked bitch for writing the details of my dream, like I said earlier about writing such perverted fantasies. Am I saving it for posterity? Why journal about this experience at all? Shouldn’t I want to block it all out of my memory only to have it unlocked when I tell some therapist about it years from now?

It’s funny, there is a joke that goes “Psycho Therapist? No I am Psycho THE rapist.” I guess the punch line is she gets raped right after that, so maybe it isn’t that funny.

I said my goodbyes to him, but somehow I felt sure I would be seeing him again. He said he would be around this weekend and after that he wasn’t sure. He had been doing a favor for Mrs. Morgan (who he called “Judy”) to guest lecture. He had come home to visit his family, but was questioning his motives for that. He said that the family seemed to be growing apart, as everyone pursued their own interests separately.

I told him that I really understood that sentiment.

I was surprised to hear him say as he walked away, “I am not sure I believe that Jamie Taylor. Your family seems to have a lot of fun, and you are full of surprises. You take chances. I am envious.”

I watched him walk away, summoning the courage to tell the Cheerleading Coach that I didn’t want to participate in the pep rally. I am a terrible liar, and I was shocked that she did not ask me for any details. I simply told her I didn’t feel well, she seemed concerned and let me out of it.

Was this all there is to lying?  No elaborate cover stories, no strange throaty voice like I was dying, no doctor’s note?

I had seldom missed a practice and couldn’t remember missing a game or performance. I can’t begin to explain how guilty I felt about it as I walked out of her office. The “Dooga Dooga Dooga” of the high school marching band’s drums were already whipping the crowd into a frenzy.

I saw my brother; he was standing with several other nerdy boys.

“Hello Sir.”

“All set for tonight?”

“I don’t know about it. Can I decide after I get my phone back from Sheldon, Sir?”

His face became skeptical. “Jamie Taylor, a Chicken?”

“If I say I will definitely do it, I will do it Sir. I just haven’t made my mind up.”

“Holding out for more stars?” He asked with a grin.

“Maybe” I teased. I really wasn’t but it didn’t hurt to try by being cute. “Can you call my phone and see where Sheldon is sitting, Sir?” I asked him sweetly.

“Nope”

“Please Sir?” I begged, trying not to seem impatient.

“I know where he is, he is up at the library. We would be too if we didn’t get caught trying to ditch this stupid pep rally.”

I opened my mouth to express my hurt. He didn’t enjoy pep rallies? How could anyone not like them? I thought to myself. I decided not to say anything about his lack of school spirit. I think it hurt me more, because they meant so much to me, that they meant nothing at all to him. I suppose that is selfish on my part, his video games and dungeons and dragons meant nothing to me.

I excused myself and tried to wrestle with that thought in my head, about my own double standards. The things that I value, I want others to value and share with me. The things I do not value,  like his video games I wouldn’t even consider showing an interest in. I would just think its common sense. Why? Because I am a cheerleader and we don’t play video games?

I made a mental note that when training is over, I am going to try to play some two player games with Chris.

I was already back upstairs heading to the library, with a single minded purpose. I passed a teacher and  nodded at him.

It would not be for several more paces before another realization dawned on me. I looked so innocent, or innocuous, or something, that teachers didn’t even look at me like I may be skipping. If Chris and his friends had been here, the teacher would have turned them back around for the pep rally. The teacher had acknowledged me in the hall, and assumed I had some reason to be where I was and just let me keep walking. That is kind of awesome.

I walked into the library. It was quiet as libraries should be. I began to seek out Sheldon. He must be squirreled away somewhere in one of the corners. The skinny underclassman reminded me of a cross between Pee Wee Herman and Kermit the Frog. If he was here, it would probably be sitting by himself with his nose in a book.

I couldn’t be more wrong. I passed the “media center” and I could see him behind the glass window in the door. He was talking to two other slightly larger boys. I say slightly larger, because the two of them combined, still weren’t equal to one high school senior like Dave Stravosky.

“Sheldon Cooper is a smelly pooper” they were taunting him, pulling on his book bag. What high school student carries around a “Book Bag”? Sheldon Cooper, apparently. What high school student taunts another kid rhyming their last name with pooper? That sounded like something from fourth grade.

“Interrupting something?” I asked feeling like Wonder Woman coming to his rescue. The two would-be bullies seemed intimidated by the fact they had my attention. I gave them a smile that they must have taken for a threat, because with that they melted back out of the room leaving just us two. I have to admit here, I had little to fear, the ‘bullies’ were simply slightly bigger pipsqueaks than Sheldon himself, and they didn’t seem all that menacing.

“Thank you.” He offered with a surprised look on his face.

“You are welcome, Sir.” I was glad I had saved him some from whatever hassle the other kids had in mind for him.

“Sorry, I couldn’t have done the same for you this afternoon.”

“Don’t remind me, Sir.” He HAD reminded me. The boys who had chosen to whip out their cocks and piss all over me. Who does that? I was naked and masturbating. That is just twisted. I relieved the awkward moment in my mind once more.

“Can you give me back my phone, please Sir?” I went straight to the point. I know on dates I am to be more accommodating and conversational but I couldn’t be sure how long we had in the small room before a librarian peaks her head inside. I was also eager to get the pictures to my father. (Dad if you are reading my journal, I am not just saying that to brown nose. I really don’t want to get in trouble).

“What is it worth to you?” his face looking less like Kermit the Frog and more like Kermit the weasel.

“Didn’t I let you watch me play with myself during lunch, Sir?” I was more shocked that he seemed to be bargaining with me, than hurt or offended.

“Yes, because your brother told you too. That wasn’t your kindness doing me a favor.”

It was true. I wouldn’t have volunteered if I didn’t have to be supervised in the bathroom.

“I also chased off the two boys that were in here. That should count for something?” I was mentally calculating if I could just over power him and take it from him. He was a skinny little pipsqueak. He was also Chris’s friend and if I were mean to him, would the punishment be worth it?

Listen to me, I sound like my mother all of a sudden. The way she calculated whether or not she could get away with mocking Short Round at Madam Chang’s. I am realizing so much this past week just how much we have in common but in other ways, how we are so different.

“I don’t have any money, Sir.” I said with a hint of frustration.

“How about a blowjob?”

“A what?”

“Suck my dick.”

I knew what he meant. I asked the question out of shock, or perhaps to stall. I should have been offended, but I can’t blame him for thinking I was easy. I had stripped naked and masturbated in front of him, and then I had failed to lose my mind with rage when boys pissed all over me while I did it. These weren’t the actions of a good girl.

I have played with cocks all week. I have probably played with them for as long as I can remember. Not physically, but mentally, teasing them to get my way. Guys really do everything to get that attention.

They play sports, they paint, they drive fast cars, they get rich, they invent, they build, they create, they acquire, they hunt, they gather. They do it all, to make themselves more attractive to the fairer sex, the female. Is it any different than when the male bird feathers his nest or tries to appeal with his warbles and song to the female?

At least that is how I always heard it on nature shows.

I may not have realized I had been playing, but  I had been playing. I had used my youthful appeal, my smile to get people to do things for me. I turn on the charm when I need something, play helpless to get appeal to the hormones of the ‘big strong man’ to get it for me. I pout, I make cute faces, I am in short a horrible little cunt who manipulates.

I never really thought about sex before the training. I had in general terms, but never in graphic ones. I think it is more the promise that they may get the affection that gets the guy’s interest. I suppose I always knew that. I suppose I’ve known this past week that wiggling my butt, and holding my legs apart, has given me a strange power and hold over certain people who are susceptible to the charms of a young girl. In my powerlessness, I was powerful.

I have always assumed I would marry, and that my husband would look something like Brad Jenkins. He would be kind, smart, charming, and handsome. He would be a good father. To be a good father, we must have children, so at some point along the way, I would have had sex. I’d have to right? That is what married people do to have kids.

It had been so abstract to me, I never broke it down to the component parts. Sucking dick, that would be a part of it. It is a way to get him hard, and please the man. Having my pussy ate out, letting him touch me, touching him. I suppose a little girl is raised to believe she will be a virgin until her wedding night.

Aside from myself, and a few of the most devout Christians on campus, I think I may be the only virgin in 11th grade. In fact, I am pretty sure some of the most devout Christians and their purity rings are really just a farce. I take that back, I think I may actually be the only virgin in the 11th grade at Cherry Lawn.

Even the fat girls, the homely ones with braces and attitude were having sex. I am pretty sure of it. What did they have to lose? Who expected them to remain pure? They weren’t blonde haired, blue eyed angels like me. Was I really thinking this about them? Yes I was.

I shuddered. I could tell that in the moment that he had asked me to suck his dick, that he was hanging in anticipation for my response. The response should be obvious. This is just a phone.

“Yes I will suck your dick, but please don’t tell anyone, Sir?”

That was not the obvious response I was thinking about when I said “This is just a phone.” Why then had I said that to him? His eyes went wide. They weren’t Millhouse’s fear eyes. These were Chris just got unlimited blueberry pancake eyes. Okay that is cruel. Chris, if you are reading my journal, I am just teasing, please don’t punish me. J

Suffice to say, he seemed to expect my response less than I had expected my response to his question. I was going to have to suck someone’s dick at some point, at some time. How else do you get good enough for your husband?

You can’t start on the wedding night? What if you are terrible at it, and he hates it? That is the question I asked myself as I kneeled in front of Sheldon Cooper to tell myself I wasn’t the world’s biggest whore for doing this.

Yet, I was a whore. It said so right on my ass.

I didn’t even look behind me at the window in the door, when I unzipped his pants and pulled out his rather average size cock.

The thing is, for a skinny boy who weighs less than 100lbs, an average size cock seems pretty big. I held it in my hand, as it was firming up, becoming solid before my eyes. He was uncircumcised, the folds of flesh pulling back as his head peaked out, not unlike Rosco on a hot day when he is thinking whatever dirty dog thoughts make his lipstick like dick get hard without any stimulus at all.

Speaking of no stimulus at all, my pussy was wet. (Hah, I said pussy instead of Cunt, I am a bad girl, so sue me.) I didn’t want my pussy to be wet, not for Sheldon Cooper. I didn’t want my first pseudo sexual experience to really be with Sheldon either.

It was too late. I had put his cock in my mouth already, licking the head slightly with my tongue and then wrapping my lips around it. It felt like putting the corn dog in my mouth last night at the fair. I shut my eyes, in the darkness he could be anyone, he could be Dave Stravosky. Yuck, why that macho ego maniac football player? I meant Brad Jenkins. At that moment though, Brad’s face wasn’t coming up, Dave is all my imagination fed me.

Dave dominating me, pulling my hair, teasing me.

I opened my eyes to get away from that image in my mind. Sheldon was standing there with his hands on his hips, making no physical contact with me except for my lips around his dick. His smile was like that of someone who just won 2nd place at the science fair, not like someone in the throes of ecstasy.

I let his dick pop out of my mouth, it was getting a little flaccid, as it dropped out from my lips. “Aren’t you enjoying it, Sir?”

“You do more than put it in your mouth?” He asked expectantly.

I wanted to ask how many blowjobs he had, that he was going to seem critical. That might have made him ask how many I had given that I wouldn’t take criticism and I didn’t want to say he was my first. Aside from that, I was supposed to talk submissively.

I slurped his cock back into my mouth, like a crazy straw and began to play with it, jerking him off with my tongue, pumping it in and out with my breath. He became hard again, it was hard not to smile, that I had shown him who could ‘do more than put it in her mouth’.

I was using one hand to pump his dick like masturbating my brother, while without thinking using my other to cup my boob the way I did when I am in squatting position. It felt comforting to touch my breast, made it easier to focus on his cock like it were the only cock in the world. That is what you do when sucking cock, connect to your partner like two become one. Joined mouth to dick, that is what I think I understand about sex.

I moved back and forth now, physically fucking his dick into my mouth by sliding back and forth. I was wishing something were driving my head back and forth on his dick, feeling foolish that it had to be me. It just didn’t feel right I was doing everything and he stood there as impassively as Uncle Creepy.

I don’t know why, but I pictured Uncle Creepy’s dick in my mouth. How that would have felt, what it would taste like. Sheldon’s didn’t taste bad. Stale sweat, with a little side of pubic hair, is how I would describe it. I had licked my mom all over at home, he really didn’t taste all that different.

Then it came.

This wasn’t an orgasm.

This was a “Jamie Orgasm”. This was the male equivalent. He grabbed my ears and yanked, his toes curled up inside his gym shoes and I could see them through the rubber. His legs strained, and he seemed like a boy possessed. Then the goo came. I don’t know how much there was, but it was at least two or three solid gulps, it felt that way.

It felt like hot cream of wheat, or phlegm just coursing into my throat. My instinct was to spit. I had heard all the jokes about “Spit or swallow” and I knew that I was expected to swallow. It seemed too gross. I would have spit, if not for the fact that his muscles had tightened, locking him in place, holding my ears now like handle bars.

He had gone from not touching me at all, to embracing my head like he was Jack, and I am that piece of wood floating in the Atlantic at the end of the Titanic.

This was apparently fourteen years of saved up boy semen, and frustrated sexual tension, all in a single massive load, and it was coating my throat. If I didn’t swallow I would have drowned, I had no idea when it would stop squirting.

“Wow, did I just pee?” He seemed shocked as he released my ears. He was still stroking himself, juicing tiny drips of cum from his cock that continued to drip out.

“No Sir, I think you came.” I said with a smile. The hot white goo, had dribbled down my chin and I dabbed it with my finger.

“I didn’t know that is how it works.” He was holding his knees, and trying to catch his breath as he spoke to me.

“You’ve never played with yourself, Sir?” I asked playfully.

“I have, but I just thought that little bit that comes out at the top is when you cum. I didn’t know I could do it and this much comes out. Wow, I need a nap!” His face was awash with euphoria. He was no longer a cranky nerdy boy who seemed shy and awkward. He had a glow about him. I don’t want to feed my own ego about it, but I think he suddenly felt like he had become a man, and I was watching him emerge from a mental cocoon. I was proud of myself.

Then I saw the two boys standing behind me.

The Family Feud III

Chapter Twenty-One
Wendy's Work Day III

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 36
Get out of jail cards: 1
JAMIE: 39
Get out of jail cards: 1

**Note to reader: Some of Wendy’s journal was altered to protect the name of the corporation and some of the employee’s identities. In order to increase readability, some of the dialogue exchanged was altered to appear in a ‘narrative’ story format.


FROM: WENDYISASLUT@XXX.COM

TO: Iceman5142@XXX.COM
SUBJECT: STATUS REPORT ON YOUR WIFE’S THERAPY

Hello Bill,

Your wife has once again made unremarkable progress in her therapy. As per our discussion, I have monitored what she wears, who she talks too, what she eats, and what she does at work. Her arousal and who she compulsively flirts with.

In the course of my supervision, she has committed the following infractions that I must bring to your attention:

-She has lost her phone, and claims she has taken pictures of herself masturbating on it, but I cannot verify that. You’ve instructed me not to take her at her word, but to verify everything due to her issues with deception and manipulation.

-She has violated speech protocols as usual, forgetting to call me Sir or willfully choosing not to at select times. In addition, today she referred to her cunt as something more complimentary. This goes against your aversion therapy, where she is to see her cunt as a source of pain for herself and amusement for others, and not as a tool of manipulation to feed her devious desires.

-She purposely let her anal plug drop in front of teenage boys at lunch, and fall onto the floor. She did clean it up, but only after begging that I punish her instead of reporting it to you. That is more evidence of her continued  pathologic attempts at manipulation to avoid heavier punishments which I assume you will do when you learn of her attempts to cover up her mistakes.

-She was slow bringing photocopies as ordered by me, demonstrating laziness and a sloppy work ethic.

She will, I assume need to be punished. I will be dropping her off a little early today, because I have a date after work. Thanks once again Bill. I am glad you are so open minded about her use. As usual, I’ll drop her off wearing what you sent her out in.

~Steve

I hovered my mouse over the send button, considering very carefully before I pressed the button to transmit my ‘progress report’ to my husband as I did every day before I went home. I quietly contemplated how I had gotten myself into this mess and if life will ever go back to normal. Whatever “normal” is, I’ve started to question if I was ever really “normal”.

At the same time, I pushed back dozens of other worries about everything from if I lose this job, can we pay our mortgage, to what would happen if my family back home found out what I am doing.

We took “Affirmation” videos when this all began. The very first day, Jamie and I posed for very embarrassing videos and said things like “We serve the men of the house willingly.” and about how we know our place, and don’t hold them responsible for what happens to us. It is our choice.

The idea was that not only could Bill use these videos in case anyone was to ever accuse him of abuse or blackmail to prove we agreed to this without coercion but also to sort of blackmail and coerce us. - a clever use of killing two birds with one stone.

We had made custom videos for each of my family members. I talk to them by name in the videos and tell them how big of a brat I am, and how much I want to be controlled, humbled, disciplined. Bill can hold these videos over our heads, that if we did back out and quit, he could send them.

I should say how big of a bitch I am. Everyone at work knows it. Everyone at my house knows I was. I enslaved my son and husband without really thinking about the consequences. Jamie is a brat, and I am a bitch, that is the difference between her and I. That is the long and the short of it. I have to stop trying to sugar coat things and call it the way it is.

In a strange way, I can sense that this training is “Un-bitchifying” me. It is making me re-evaluate why I was ever a bitch in the first place. Making me appreciate things I took for granted. I think to a certain extent this is good for Jamie because she is probably not going to make the same choices about career first that I have, and to be more considerate. I used to be sweet like she was. I swear, honest. Somewhere along the way, I became a bitch.

Not any more, Wendy Taylor. Things are changing, some for the better.

In my heart, I knew Bill would never send those videos to my family or his. It would sabotage the mental image my parents and family have of me as a successful, caring mother and all around good, hard-working person. Yet, now every time I got ready to send him something like this through the internet account he made me set up for status reports, I had this paranoid feeling that this stuff would end up in their hands somehow.

Can you imagine my parents? The painting of the farmer and wife with pitchfork “American Gothic” could have been inspired by them. They were industrious, pragmatic, country people who knew only the simple farm life I was raised on.

My brother moved to the big city to be a realtor or a stock broker or something. He’d probably understand a little better the kind of deviousness I have subjected myself too. But even he, I think, would be disappointed in my behavior. You would think I know what he does, but he hasn’t stayed in touch and the few times I’ve talked to him he has been evasive. It is always some big wheeler-dealer kind of thing. I have my doubts.

I think my big sister, of all the ones in the family, is the one I am most afraid of finding out what I am doing, it has to be her. She was the popular girl in high school; the “Marsha” to my “Jan”. I have not talked to her since any of this started, I’d be afraid too. She is so caught up on appearances, and being a good Christian and having that perfect white picket fence, four-bedroom All-American Dream house.

I have the house, and I thought I had that all-American dream life. I used to rub it in her face from time to time. Not intentionally, at least I didn’t think so, until I found myself living this way and realizing I took a lot of things for granted. Stepped on a lot of people to get where I am, took shortcuts in life.

I probably shouldn’t get into all the reasons I would hate for my sister to discover what I have been doing. I am not talking about just my training or cuckolding Bill and Chris. I am talking about how I’ve had shallow goals, focused on the material and the physical. We don’t have the hearth and family traditional values that I am sure a good Christian like my sister is all about.

There is more to it of course. We have had a rivalry that goes back to our childhood. If I want to finish this journal before Steve comes back to check on me, I had better save that deep psychological stuff for another time when I am not so “tied up” at the computer (lol).  Look at me typing “lol” like a silly teenager.

Okay, I am stalling. I need to click that report so I can get out to the car and go home wearing just the bath towel, ball gag and cuffs I came here in. I am sure Steve should be here any moment.

When I get home I’ll have to face the medicine when I get home for all the fuckups I did today. I have a feeling this is going to be a day where there will be at least one “Correction” doled out on me. Chris has been gloating about how clever some of his ideas are, and what he put in the fishbowl for me. Just thinking about it sends shivers down my spine. I only hope I get punished before Jamie gets home, because Bill tends to over-sexualize the punishments, and even though it probably sounds weird, there are some things I’d just rather Jamie not know that I’ve been doing.

I’ve just clicked “Send”, so there is no going back with today’s status report. It is on the way to Bill over the internet. Steve just told me I have a few minutes before he is ready to leave, so I will fill in my journal on what happened after I finished up in the gym today.

==

I was actually smiling as I walked out of the gym. It was my suspicion that Vicky assumed my strange new behavior was some new strategy to get ahead. That was unexpected. I assumed she would think I was a brazen slut in a mid-life crisis desperate for attention.

Heaven knows the women on my floor seemed to feel that way. At least half of them, the other half did seem to be a little jealous at the attention I was getting. The outcome was still the same. I wasn’t gaining any popularity slutting things up around the cubicles.

What choice did I have? I couldn't think of any way out except to keep up this charade that I was cock-crazy and that I accepted the fact I had a sexual addiction so severe I would willingly submit to any therapy no matter how bizarre or disgusting. In a way there was a little truth to that, this training was becoming a strange sort of therapy for me, adjusting how I viewed the world.

There is something primal about giving up control over myself. I am sure it goes back to the first cavewoman who got slugged over the head with a club and dragged back into the cave by the first caveman with the balls to do it. She started washing his clothes over rocks in the stream, cleaning and cooking for him when he showed her who was boss.

Steve and Bill were doing the same to me, and it was altering my perceptions of the world and the people in it. I had been inconsiderate in the past, now I started to empathize more with the petty problems of my staff by putting myself in their shoes.

I find myself different than I was when I began this adventure a week ago. I was giving it the “old college try” from day one, trying to be good and accommodating, don’t get me wrong. However, now I find that I’ve started to develop more patience and a desire to please others. I’ve found the punishments, both mental and physical have worked as some sort of incentive to get me to reconsider the priorities in my life.

I find myself wondering, if I should be thankful despite the hardships and humiliations I’ve endured, for the opportunity to see things from the bottom looking up, instead of the other way around. That is easy to say, I suppose it is like the star athlete who spends a few days on crutches who thinks they know how a person in a wheelchair for the rest of their lives must feel. In a week or so, I’ll be done with all this and free to go back to my old ways. It would be different if I had to keep this up forever and ever.

Obviously, some things will change, and I can’t take them back. I’ve enslaved my son and my husband, and even though I am going through all this for them, they may still never forgive me for the dark place I took things.

I will have the tattoo after this is all over as a permanent reminder of the hardships I’ve faced, and the fears I’ve met, and the ones I’ve had the courage to overcome. I suppose Jamie may decide to keep hers too.

I will also have the knowledge, I have slept with, kissed, massaged, and touched my daughter for the amusement of the men in the household in ways that may require extensive therapy when it finally hits me just how far I’ve gone this past week and still have to go.

I have jacked off my son, and sucked his friend’s dick. I drank their cum. I fucked strangers. I let them touch me in places that I would not have even let Bill have access too before the training. These are all things I think about, probably too much. I suppose while I wrestle with my thoughts, it helps me to feel a little less guilty about some of it.  It may seem to my subconscious mind that since my mind isn’t fully made up about it all, maybe that means I don’t have to feel ashamed of everything I am doing just yet.

That probably doesn’t make a lot of sense, but I need to shut up and finish my journal for the day.  I probably don’t have a lot of time to fill in all the details, so I’ll just include a few of the things that happened to me today.

I met back up with Steve on my way out of the women’s locker room.

“Hello Sir, may I go back to our office, and finish my reports, after I get myself comfortable?” I said flirtatiously. I gave him the look that seemed to imply I was looking forward to getting naked, filling all my holes with dildos, chaining myself to a chair and that was “comfortable”.

“How would you like to suck someone’s dick before we get back to the office?” He asked me quizzically.

“Sure, thank you Sir!” I pretended to love the idea of strange sex. I asked him who it was, despite the fact that as Wendy the uber-slut, I was supposed to have very few standards; cock is cock.

“Jerry”

“Jerry? From Accounting?” I clarified. He was a fat, middle aged paper pusher, who always seemed gassy. He was often shunned or even overlooked for invitation to company events simply because his ideas often seemed strange or pointless.

“The very same. Is there a problem with that?”

“No Sir, Cock is Cock” I sang the catch phrase I had been instructed to pretend I lived by when I was with Steve as if I was looking forward to this. In reality, I could count on one hand who else I knew at the office I wanted to suck off less than Jerry.

“Does he know about my therapy, Sir?” I asked sheepishly.

“Yeah, did you want to seduce him instead?”

I wasn’t sure how long it would be before someone told the upper level executive management once they found out about me. Hey, even Senior Vice Presidents answer to someone.

Every day Steve had me suck or fuck a co-worker, and he had told them the cover story as he understood it - that I am some kind of cock-crazy cougar who is being taught aversion therapy to get over my sexual addiction. Each time the person Steve picked has bought the story, usually with a big smile on their face as they see the former dragon-lady executive Wendy Taylor unzip and undress for them.

“No sir, I know I shouldn’t try to seduce men. I thought Jerry was a family man, who might not go for THIS sort of thing.” I apologized as we exited the elevator to my floor in the office.

“Your husband says you didn’t really take people’s marriage vows all that seriously.” Steve dismissed my question as we headed towards accounting.

I only nodded, not wanting to correct him that I took my marriage vows VERY seriously. If I didn’t, would  I be here now walking to beg a man I neither liked nor respected to let me suck his cock? This is what amused Bill, and I had agreed to be his ‘whore’. What other choice do I have in this situation I find myself in?

Okay, I know I have choices. It is a damned if you do, damned if you don’t kind of thing. I am trying to pick the situation that benefits the most people and saves this family. If Bill and Chris get a kick out of taking down the girls a peg, well we deserve to be taken down a peg. This just feels like a LOT of pegs!

I was standing in front of Jerry as he looked me up and down. He seemed to be eye-raping me, appraising me. At the same time, I could sense he wondered if this was all a joke on him, or a trap of some kind. I could sense his apprehension as I took his hand to lead him back to my office. I still sometimes say “my office”, even though technically it is Steve’s office too. I’ve got to remember to stop doing that, even in my journal or I may slip and forget to say it when talking to Steve.

Steve smiled and waved good bye to us both as Jerry stood up to walk with me. He struck me as a bit spineless, easily cuckolded, even worse than Bill had been before the trainings started. Jerry had a sensitive look on his face, like someone who had been fucked over one too many times, and was afraid of being hurt again. It made me feel pity for him, I tried not to look at him as I walked him back to the office.

“You are really going to do this?”

It is funny to me that he asked if I were going to do “this” TO him. It reminded me of how Bill and Chris were before the trainings. To Jerry this is not an activity two people do together. It is something that is being “Done to him”. I couldn’t help but wonder how much of his life he feels “is done to him” that he is an active participant in.

“Yes Sir, thank you for agreeing to it.” I said curtly as we walked through the aisles in the cubicles as if I were answering a very routine question about accounting or business. Jerry had a way about him of asking things that should be obvious to anyone with common sense, which seemed to rub people the wrong way. He also talked at a speed that was just a little slower paced than most, making you wish he would just hurry up and finish his sentence because you already had the answer for his question.

It wasn’t that he was mentally slow. He was just one of these people who operates at a slower pace, and was oblivious how much it agitated people who moved at a faster pace to interact with him. I’ve seen people in meetings checking their cell phones, looking at their watches, even hold sidebar conversations while he was talking. He just put out a vibe that said, “It is okay to disregard what I am about to say”, even if what he was talking about may have had some value.

His point usually did not have value. It was usually a trivial detail. I think if Jerry had been the engineer on the Titanic, when the ship was sinking he would have gone around and made sure all the sinks were not leaking. If by now you haven’t realized why I’ve vented about him, it goes without saying that I was not looking forward to what I’d have to do with Jerry when we got in my office.

I have come so far. I’ve stood almost naked in a fair. I’ve let myself be locked in a pillory at the fair and have tomatoes chucked at me. I’ve fucked and sucked strangers at a motel and young teenage guys. I am not sure why each time, I go through this internal mental torture where I feel guilt. I haven’t found a way to desensitize myself to what I am doing- to disconnect completely and pretend I am not Wendy Taylor- to be someone else: Wendy the whore, Wendy the good slut.

I am envious that my daughter has a ‘special place’ she can go in her mind, where everything is safe and comfortable and hide out in there and tune out reality. I’ve managed that a few times with my husband and Chris, but most of the time I beat myself up about it. Usually after I’ve done it, this time it was before.

When we got to the office, I opened the door for him and offered him my chair behind my desk. He seemed surprised that I would offer him my own chair.

“Jerry, I am going to get naked.” I said after I shut and locked the door. “Will that bother you?”

“No” he stammered.

“Will you promise not to tell anyone else at the office, besides other people Steve tells you are okay with my therapy?” I had my hands on my blouse, about to lift it up for him. I knew any promise he gave was not likely to be kept, but it was worth a try.

“Yes” he awkwardly swiveled in my chair, adjusting his weight and lowering it a little. These kinds of fastidious changes would ordinarily have irked me. I realize they are petty and small, but at least I can say that at that moment in time, it was the least of my concerns.

I pulled my top off, and began to step out of my skirt. I could tell he was looking at my tits and the rings through my now rather engorged nipples. His eyes were wide, almost wider than that boy from the fair who was too afraid to kiss me.

“I have 15 minutes with you. I need to make you cum. When I am finished, would you mind taking pictures of me while I masturbate, it’s important, Sir?” I asked as I got on my hands and knees to stalk over to him like a panther in heat.

“Why?”

So far, no one had asked me too many questions during these sessions. They were happy enough to get their cocks sucked. Steve had cherry picked guys in the office who were probably the biggest perverts of all the males in the office for me.

I began to unzip his pants and seductively flick my eyes up at him, the way I had seen it done in pornos and love scene. “Jerry, if you ask me a lot of questions, I can’t do what we came here to do.” I flashed my smile.

He took his cock from me gingerly, it was already half erect. It was clear he felt intimidated and possibly nervous. His body language was telling me to take it slowly. If I didn’t make him cum and get the pictures, I would be punished though.

It isn’t like I would be hurting him. He should be thanking me for helping him to cum. I rubbed the head of his dick playfully and touched his balls, but he retreated a little. I had a feeling a guy like Jerry had a lot of practice with playing with his own dick and was very particular about how it should be treated.

“Okay Jerry, if you want to play with it. I don’t have to touch it. I just need you to cum in my mouth, alright, Sir?” My tone was pleading, but also hinted that I was really in control of the situation. He needed my guidance, my reassurance this was alright.

“Why?”

A week of punishments at the hands of my husband, son and Steve has taught me to control my eye rolls. I still felt the urge to shake Jerry and say “Shut up and let the woman who offered just suck your dick. Stop thinking so much!!” I could tell I would need to humor him, if he is going to let his guard down enough to cum.

“Did Steve not tell you why you were invited here, Sir?” I asked fluttering my eyelashes like butterfly wings.

“Yes, but I do not believe it. Why me?”

“Cock is cock, Jerry.” I said. The tone came out wrong. I had wanted it to sound like I was willing to fuck anyone, any time, any place, to continue the ruse. Instead, it sounded more like he didn’t matter. I could see his face reflect he had picked that up in my tone as well.

“I am sorry Sir. I didn’t mean it like that.” I apologized. I needed to make him feel like he was the only man that mattered in the world at the moment. I decided to tell him part of the lie that was told to Steve, if it would make him less guarded.

“I am a nymphomaniac, Jerry.” He didn’t believe me, his lips started to curl in a smile of disbelief.

“Jerry, look at me. I am on the floor, naked in my office on all fours!” I was getting flustered already with him. That was in part because of my preconceptions about him. I decided to take a deep breath and try to match the slower pace in how he spoke.

I put my finger behind me, to begin playing with my pussy and ass for him. “Would you like me to turn around so you can watch me play with myself, Jerry?” I had my cell phone with me, and I needed him to take pictures or I would get in trouble. This was a daily requirement and this was the usual time of day I did it.

“Not really, you are avoiding my question.”

How could he not fall for my obvious charms, I smirked to myself sarcastically as I continued to finger fuck myself. I guess I wasn’t as hot as my daughter, who might have had better luck. I have to accept I am getting older and not all guys will just fall all over themselves to do what I want, even in this situation.

“I find it difficult to control my sexual urges, Jerry, so I am going through therapy to address them. Traditional means haven’t worked, rehab, psychologists, sex camps.” I pretended to be an expert on such things. I was counting on how easy it would be to bluff him.

“How would therapy to control your sexual urges, require you to act upon sexual urges?” He was playing with himself, but not very fast. It was clear he was in a “hover” mode. He wasn’t trying to make baby batter, he was trying to just stay hard and probably just have something to do with his hands in this awkward situation.

It is funny to say “Baby batter”. I picked that term up from my Son this week. This week I’ve learned so many new things and words, and now I find myself using these terms instead of the habitual ones I’ve had close to forty years to get used too.

“It is complicated Jerry. I only have 15 minutes. Please let me suck your dick for you? I really want too?” I gave him my best “come hither” stare.

“I want to know. This doesn’t seem right to me.” He was looking around the office for the hidden camera that he thought might be there.

“Relax Jerry, there are no cameras here.” As far as I knew there wasn’t. I didn’t dismiss the possibility Steve and Bill had put one in I didn't know about, but telling that to Jerry would have made him bolt for the door I am sure.

“This is aversion therapy, Sir. I don’t get to pick my sexual conquests, they are chosen for me. They are done in humbling and submissive ways. This tattoo on my ass, the piercings, they are all intended to embarrass me about being naked. When I was at the bottom of the barrel with my addictions, it was the other way around, I was in control, or so I thought.” I was doing a good job of making this all up as I went. It even sounded believable to me.

“I don’t buy it.” He stated stubbornly, not even looking directly at me.

I was beside myself, how could he not buy it? What reason does he have to doubt things? I was naked, on my hands and knees willing to suck his dick and more, and he wanted to quibble over my reasons? A tiny part of me was planning to get him fired once I was back to my old role in another week. I felt I would be doing the company the favor, to get rid of this guy who would look a gift horse in the mouth. How could he possibly have the savvy to make a good accountant?

“I am learning to be submissive, Sir.” I continued after swallowing my outrage. “Something I am learning through all this. To submit to someone else, means to put them ahead of my selfish needs and desires. If I focus on pleasuring your cock, it is to amuse and please you. It isn’t to put another notch in my belt.” That was almost verbatim from something my son had made me say during an affirmation the other morning, except without the notch in my belt part.

“You?” he could barely contain a laugh. “Everyone gets invited to Company Birthday parties, except for Jerry. I bore everyone. You are one of the ones who I’ve overheard laughing at the water cooler, about how ‘lame’ I am!”  If he was angry, he didn’t show it. Instead, it was more of a passive aggressive kind of anger that simmered. I remember my mom used to do that to me when I was growing up. I would have rather she just blew up and let it all out.

“Jerry I am SO Sorry you feel that way. I am really trying to make amends for what I have done.”

“And you think by sucking my dick for 15 minutes, that makes it all better?”

I really didn’t think anything at that moment in time. I was just hoping to get on with it and close this disgusting chapter of my currently disgusting life so I could move on.

You know the old Beatles song, how does it go;

He's a real nowhere man,

Sitting in his Nowhere Land,

Making all his nowhere plans

for nobody.

Mine could be;

She’s a real disgusting whore

Sitting on her disgusting ass,

Sucking all the disgusting cocks

for everybody.

Okay, I am no Paul McCartney, so sue me.

“What can I do to make it up to you, Sir?” I tried to maintain a seductive and submissive tone with him, keeping my pace in speaking as slow as his.

“You know in thirty years of marriage, my wife never once went down on me?” he offered. This came completely out of the blue.

“I am sorry to hear that Jerry. I am a good little cocksucker. Can I show you?” I really needed to watch the time and finish, so he could take pictures for my husband. If I didn’t show that I had cum in my mouth or on me, he would still punish me.

“Now my son won’t talk to me. Even he thinks I am a weakling, and pathetic. I am the office joke. I’ve lost my house, my truck, my wife, my life.” Just as he hadn’t registered fully angry, he wasn’t crying either. His voice was somewhere between self-pity and whining.

“Sir, let me lick your dick, please? I don’t mind if you unload on me all of your troubles and worries. I almost lost my family too.”

“You? You have it all. You are an executive, you’ve got the life!”

He had to be kidding? Here I was on all fours begging to suck his dick, with a tattoo of whore on my ass, playing with my pussy because I am a slave to my husband and son. How could he think I had it better than him.

“My family held an intervention for me Sir. If I didn’t agree to this therapy, I was going to have a divorce and Bill had enough dirt on me, that I would lose everything.” That was technically true, although it also fit the pretense that I was a sex addict. I could see now that he could relate to me, he was able to hold my gaze longer.

As I told him it didn’t matter really about material things. I could buy new clothes, and a new house and a new car one day. I could not get the family back, so I was willing to do anything, to fix the hole I dug for myself. That was a realization that felt very right as I said it aloud. It was the god’s honest absolute truth.

I could hear him fap-fap-fap away with his cock as he pulled his pud. He wasn’t near cumming, his dick was soft. However as I spoke, he seemed to get a little more intense about stroking himself. He seemed to like to hear that I was in a worse hole than he was in life.

“What happens if I don’t cum or take pictures of you?” He asked rather plainly.

I was disturbed he was considering not doing either, after I had opened up to him. “They will punish me, Sir.”

“Who will punish you?”

I hadn’t really wanted to go “there” with him. This is one reason I hate lying to people. Once you start, you can’t keep your lies straight and you begin to forget which one you just told and which one you told last week. I had already given him some details I hadn’t even shared with Steve and I probably only had five minutes left.

Why did he have to push this? There’s no way I can reveal my REAL personal life to him. Not Jerry!  Doesn’t he see how difficult this is for me? If I do tell him what really goes on at home I risk everything from him calling social services to him wanting to stop by as an uninvited guest, like Mrs. Waxerman.

How horrible it would be for Jamie to have to deal with him? I mean, we've been embarrassed in front of strange men, but there is something so off-putting about Jerry.

How could I face him again around the office after I confess what a slut-slave I am in all the gory details? He already thinks I am a nymphomaniac, and that is supposed to be the better alternative to the truth?

This was all too embarrassing and way to personal. I have to think of my daughter too. I have no right to drag her into this.  Perhaps if I just play it cool he'll leave it alone.

CRAP! I've really done it this time!!  I don't really want the whole fuckin' world to know what I really am, or am becoming, or my hidden desires. There HAS to be some limits to all this, doesn't there? I mean if I end up in the papers, even my parents in Indiana who are so backwards they video tape the weather channel might find out.

I need to hold some things back. Why does holding things back feel even more tense then having to admit all these awful things? I don't know if I was feeling an adrenalin rush the way I do sometimes during the more intense affirmation or training sessions, or if it was just the nervous pulse of an ulcer starting to form from all the worrying I was doing about this. I can't let one person at the office make me doubt everything. I need to keep calm and carry on. That is the old saying isn't it? The one the English used in world war II? If not, it should have been.

I'll just have to do my best to answer him in ways as a man, he may believe, but that don't express all the anguish and internal  fears I am hiding from him.

“Jerry, you are a nice guy. If you believe me that I will be punished, why not just let me help you cum in my mouth and take some pictures. Then I can tell you all about it later, Please Sir?” I begged.

I knew many of my answers had been evasive, but even Steve hadn’t pried this far into my life. I was trying to be careful not to volunteer any information about myself I didn’t absolutely have to. I sometimes did, like earlier in the day when I couldn’t leave it alone about why Steve brought up Jamie during the morning affirmations. I wondered if it was my subconscious forcing me to admit things and get them off my conscious or that I was just a glutton for piling on humiliation. It felt like the latter sometimes, because what could I possibly get from being this open with Jerry at this point?

I wasn’t very good at begging. This was something my son and husband had made abundantly clear. I ‘negotiated’. My begging was more of a desperate quid pro quo. I couldn’t help myself, I think it was something I had picked up here at work over the past few years in bargaining employee contracts and new account pricing structures.

Their guidance was paying off, because I started to cry. I think that was a real emotional response to so many things that had happened, and all the conflicts about what I was doing that I usually over-analyze in my head.

“Please Sir? Steve will tell my husband I didn’t please you. They will see this as a stubborn streak on my part, because I didn’t make the arrangements for this on my terms. That I must have stalled you or not done a very good job and focused on my pleasure. He’ll see that my cunt is wet, and know that I was getting off. The only reason I am supposed to do this is to amuse my partner, not to please myself.”

“So why are you?”

“I don’t know Jerry” I boo-hooed to him. I was facing towards him, so he could not even see me masturbating, yet I had continued to do it without even thinking. I was so used to playing with myself in front of others when I was like this; it had felt natural, comforting to do it.

“I could say I was hoping you would watch, but it’s probably because I am a kinky slut, who would rather stick her fingers in her twat than anything else, Sir.” I was lathered up and wet, through and through. I was starting to wonder how much of my story was truth and how much was fiction, because things had just become a lot more gray.

“How will you be punished?”

Jerry true to his pedantic nature was asking questions all the way up to the end of our time together. Even if I could convince him to let me wrap my lips around his dick, at this point we probably didn’t have time to seal the deal and let him cum all over my face so I could get photographs to satisfy Bill’s requirements.

“When I get home, I will draw from a fishbowl for infractions. I won’t know what the punishment is until I draw. It could be a spanking; it could be getting tied up.” I continued, “They may attach clothes pins to my tongue, clit and nipples for the entire night” which was one particular correction I had etched into my mind as one of the more insidiously simple yet effective punishments.

“Don’t you have kids at home?” He could see pictures of Chris and Jamie on my desk, in happier more carefree times.

I swallowed as I considered my answer, licking my lips out of nervousness.

“Knock-Knock” Steve’s familiar voice came through the door checking on me. I suppose I should be thankful for small miracles that seem to crop out. Jerry’s question was going to be difficult to answer for so many reasons.

“We aren’t finished with our interview; can we have a little more time?” I called back through the door to him as if this was all a routine everyday meeting here at work.

“Aren’t done with our meeting, what?” He asked coyly.

I didn’t want to scream “Sir” through the door. The rules were unclear. Okay, they were clear, I was to call Steve “Sir” at all times. I stood up, unlocked the door for him a crack, and whispered “Sir” with a smile. I thought that was a creative solution to the uncomfortable problem of shouting Sir loud enough it may be heard by people passing by my office.

I retreated behind the door as Steve opened it to let himself in. “What seems to be the problem?”

If Jerry had been even close to masturbating himself to orgasm, all hope for that evaporated when he saw Steve standing there with his boyish grin. Jerry started to put his dick back in his pants.

“It was no problem. We were just talking. I should go.”

“Failed to close the deal, Wendy? That isn’t like you. You are a shrewd negotiator. Perhaps it was just you didn’t want to close it with Jerry?” he hinted that it may be that Jerry’s oafish manners were behind my reluctance.

“No Sir, it isn’t that, please. Just give us a little more time?”

“Sorry, you are wanted at home. Thank Jerry for giving you this chance and let’s get you packed and ready to leave a little early today.”

Standing naked in a small room with two fully dressed men is a very new and awkward experience for me. I felt so vulnerable to them, but at the same time, I can’t deny there was this naughty, sexual tension about standing in front of them fully on display and with the smell of my sex in the air.

As I sunk to my knees to thank Jerry, he stood up. “I don’t want her punished for this.” He stammered at Steve.

“I don’t think it is up to you, Jerry.” Steve flashed a confident smile. He was everything Jerry wasn’t. He was youthful and full of swagger, and Jerry, well if you ever saw the movie “Office Space”, he was  slightly above the guy who said “I believe you have my stapler”.

“She is doing the best she can!” Jerry said slowly. I wondered if part of his defense of me, was more projection about himself. This was probably something he wanted to say to his wife and people who he felt he disappointed in his own life.

“How do you even know she will be punished?” Steve looked down at me with disgust.

“She told me, it’s part of her therapy.” Jerry was calm, but defensive.

“Did she tell you she wants to be punished if she does wrong?”

Jerry shook his head as if he did not understand why anyone would want punishment.

“Go ahead and tell him what you tell me every day, Slut.” Steve knew that I was aware of what he was referring too and he didn’t need to elaborate further.

“I deserve to be punished, Sir”. I choked out the words from my knees in front of Jerry. “If I fail, then I should face the consequences of my actions. I will never learn to be a good person, if I do not answer for my indiscretions and shortcomings.  I am by my nature deceptive and manipulative. It is up to Steve to supervise me here at work, and report on my misdeeds. I bear him no ill will, nor you Sir. No more than a bank robber should be angry at the detective who caught them doing dirty deeds. When I go home, I will admit all of the things that I did today, and beg forgiveness and ask for correction Sir.”

“Why does it have to be so sexual?” Jerry seemed uncomfortable, as he fidgeted with my camera phone, looking at the screen instead of down at the naked woman pleading with him.

“The hair of the dog, Sir.” I pouted out a lip even though he wasn’t looking at my face. “My shortcomings involved using my body to pleasure myself, and further my career.” I lied. The central theme to my ‘therapy’ was focused on this lie. “Like Karma, my punishments are of a sexual nature, because my transgressions are of a sexual nature. If my cunt gets spanked, I am less likely to see it as a source of amusement and more as a tool I can be controlled with.”

“Controlled?”

He had a way of asking one word questions that really infuriated me at times. It seemed obvious to me where I was going with my explanation but he seemed to want to dig further into things. Every time I had to answer, I had to not only think about how to spin the lie I had started this out with at the office, but what I could live with co-workers knowing about if I expected to continue in the office much longer.

He had brought up the question about Chris and Jamie right before our time ran out together. I knew this was a huge can of worms about what my kids know about, and how involved they may be in my corrective therapy (Such as it is). I was relieved beyond words that I hadn’t had my feet held to the fire to answer that question and the inevitable ones he may have asked so far.

I was playing my cards as close to my chest as I could, but all the while it had been a white knuckled experience for me. If anyone but me is reading this, I suppose you won’t know all the butterflies being bounced around in my stomach as he questioned me and I struggled to come up with half-truths and plausible lies to answer his questions.

I was actually looking forward to getting home for affirmations where I could just be as honest as possible. I even thought that I may try to be even more forthcoming and honest in future affirmations, simply because I preferred the honesty to this cat and mouse game with Steve and Jerry.

They were waiting for an answer “Yes Sir, I controlled men with my pussy. The desire of it, now I am pulled around by my cunt lips for their amusement.” He didn’t seem to be getting my ironic allegory, so I pulled my own clit ring with my fingers to pantomime being pulled around.

“You could just come and be my wife. I would never expect this of you, nothing like this.” He had unexpectedly taken things into a completely different direction than I even suspected he might. He had gone from curiously detached to clingy and offering me a new life with him from zero to sixty. His desperation didn’t endear him to me.

“I am sorry Sir, but I have a husband and a family.” I offered him as politely as I could. “Thank you for the offer?” My words sounding more like a question.

“You bitch!” He finally got angry. “You would rather suck dicks and crawl around naked, and get your pussy spanked, than be with ME? I would never treat you like this. No matter what you did. A good husband would care for and protect his wife, not whore her out this way!”

“But she was already whoring, Jerry.” Steve smiled calmly. “Let’s keep our voices down. This therapy is weaning her away from her sexual addiction. Cold turkey just does not work. You can’t tell me you don’t know that?”

“Shut up, Steve!” Jerry stood up furiously. “I’ve been sober for over three years. You know that.” There was clearly something between these two, probably Alcoholic’s Anonymous meetings.

“You are sick, lady” He looked down at me with disgust and stormed out of the office.

“Well, that was awkward.” Steve had a way with understatement. I looked at him to smile, but then found his hard cock in my mouth as I turned to face him.

“Don’t talk. You can take dictation”. He let the word dictation linger as a double entendre’ insisting I type out the report I just emailed to my husband a few minutes ago as I sucked his dick. He told me what to type and when he discovered my phone was missing, added that to the list of infractions.

Jerry must have left with it. I wanted to beg to go ask for it back, but it was no use. We were leaving shortly, and he seemed to enjoy the idea that I would be punished severely for this.

At least he didn’t ask if my son and daughter would be party to any of this. I could at least count on Steve not to dig too deeply into my family life.

He is here now. I’ve got to get dressed. All so I can get in the car and change back into the towel, cuff and gag myself to be dropped off at home for corrective measures.

Oh boy, what a day.

The Family Feud III

Chapter Twenty-Two
“Jamie's E-Journal Entry Four”

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 36
Get out of jail cards: 1
JAMIE: 39
Get out of jail cards: 1

The following is excerpted from Jamie Taylor’s E-Journal account of a typical day in her life. It is presented to you with slide edits for readability of dialogue without change in context. This account is Jamie’s perspective of events that took place on the Friday of her first week of training. This excerpt begins shortly after the first blowjob she has ever given anyone. She is in the media center of her school library.

Talk about “Egg on your face”. It wasn't egg, it was baby batter. There wasn't a lot, most of it had been pumped down my throat and was sitting in my tummy. The boy juice on my chin, the red-handed way I had been caught doing my dirty deeds. It should have terrified me. It did. It also stimulated me.

I had this adrenalin rush kick in, that I cannot quite explain. I looked up at the two boys who were behind me, catching them in my peripheral vision at first before turning my head to face one of them.

“How long have you been watching us, Sir?” I already knew the answer. I suppose I am an eternal optimist that I might have expected to hear “Not long at all, why? Did you drop a contact lens?”

“Long enough to watch you gobble Sheldon's cock.” The first boy giggled as he said “gobble”.

The second boy, sounding more sinister added, “and wait our turn.”

“That was just to get my phone back, Sir.” my tone apologetic as I began to stand. I had sucked one dick. That was enough of an education for today. I would be processing these feelings I had for some time to come.

“You mean this phone?” The first boy waved my phone as if it were a prize.

I glared at Sheldon, sir or no sir I wanted an explanation. “You said you would give me back my phone, Sir?”

He sheepishly held his hands up, he was done. The blow job had cleaned him out of any dirty thoughts or cynical criticism. He just wanted silence and no conflict. I had seen that look on Chris and Dad's face before. “I was going to get it back from them.” He explained more like how I would imagine Kermit the Weasel would sound (if he was a weasel and not a frog).

“Our dicks aren't good enough for you?” The second boy asked challenging me, while tapping his groin.

I had been so foolish. I hadn't asked to see the phone. I had hungrily agreed to the BJ without really understanding that not everyone keeps their word. That not everyone plays fair. “Let me hold the phone and I will suck you both, okay?” I pleaded.

“Good little cock sucker.” The first boy said with a tinge of sarcasm thrown into his patronizing compliment.

“I don't think you should hold the phone, until you suck one of us first.” the second boy added, with the assumption he would be the next to go in my mouth.

“I could tell. I could tell someone you are making me do this!” I pouted. In retrospect, the threat didn’t seem all that believable to even me.

“You could. We aren't making you, though. We watched you suck a boy's dick, and asked you to suck ours. That is our story. What is yours going to be? That Sheldon who weighs 100lbs soaking wet held you down and had his way with you?” They both laughed at that mental image. I had to admit, that wasn't a very likely story.

If I hadn’t spent a week looking at things from an entirely different perspective and undergoing all these changes, I probably would have kneed them in the groin or just walked out. Then again, I wouldn’t even have been there doing these things if I was my old me.

I wanted to play the “But I am a Cheerleader” card. You know, say “Don't you know who I am? I am Jamie Taylor, one of the prettiest girls in school, I know people. They'll defend me. Let me have my phone.” It made me feel guilty thinking how self-important I really am deep down inside. These boys whose names I may never know, would be nothing to me if I hadn't put myself into this training.

Put myself into “it”, is right. I have been going back and forth about the fault for how things have been, and I keep coming back to the idea that Jamie Taylor is responsible for the things Jamie Taylor does. That is a lesson I learned early on in all of this experience.

I unzipped boy number one's pants. I wasn't going to give boy number two the satisfaction of going first. (Second, technically). He had been too anxious, too mean. I would do him last. “Can Sheldon hold the phone, Sir?” I asked boy#1.

“Why? We can take it back from him if we want.”

“Would you, Sir? ...After I just agreed to suck your dick?” I pulled his half-hard dick out to touch it, feel it squirm in my hand. His was circumcised, and rapidly growing in length to its full length, an inch or so longer than Sheldon’s cock had been. There was a sudden rush of power, despite my standing there naked around three mostly dressed boys, I felt my acquiescence to their desires, gave me some sort of control over them. It wasn’t that I particularly wanted control over them, but I can’t deny the look on their face as I took the second dick in my hand was priceless!

He agreed he wouldn't, back out of our deal. I watched as he handed Sheldon the phone almost as if they were playing “Keep away” with me. I had a sudden flashback to being nine and Chris and his friends throwing a ball back and forth to one another while I tried to get it.

I sank back to my knees to suck the first boy’s dick. Sheldon blissfully watched me perform as I had on him. I suspect this wasn’t his first blowjob because he at least seemed to know what to do with his hands. He guided me by my ears back and forth, painting his cock with my tongue as the brush and my spit as his paint. I wasn’t sure now who was in control, or were we both active participants in this? It was all new to me, but I felt like I was picking it up like a natural.

Oh god? I AM a natural “good little cock sucker”. That is a scary thought. The boy may have meant it jokingly, but I am starting to suspect he was right.

I kept shutting my eyes to try to visualize my ‘happy place’ and retreat into my imagination. I have to admit, after my latest daydream, I can’t say that my imagination is all that safe anymore. It would be better than the shame, humiliation and disgust I was feeling back in the real world I thought.

The first boy wouldn’t let me. Each time I started to shut my eyes and tune out the fact I was bobbing on his cock while two other boy’s watch, he jerked my head in such a way that I had no choice but to wake back up. I didn’t complain, I couldn’t with my mouth stuffed full of boy sausage. I must be hanging around with Chris too much, “boy sausage”, that is something I would never have thought to say until this week. He has so many expressions that mean ‘cock’ and each one seems to be nastier than the last.

I could see now why what I was doing with the corn dog the night before had been so popular with strangers who watched me put it in my mouth. The deeper he drove his cock into my mouth, the harder he got. I could see the second boy was stroking his own sizable dick without any reservation that other boys were watching.

Granted, other than Rosco’s red ruby lipstick dog-penis, I would not call my experience with cock size extensive. My father, my brother notwithstanding, I’ve seen about four or five other ones all in this past week. I stand by “sizable” until someone shows me much larger, which is I think a scary thought that something bigger than what that boy was packing will EVER fit into me.

As he drove the cock into the back of my mouth, I hoped that I would not throw up. I could feel myself starting to gag ever so slightly and I tried to guide him back out. There was plenty of room in my mouth, he didn’t need to stick his dick all the way down my throat! I was doing the best I could considering this was my second blowjob ever, but at times I felt like he was aiming for my windpipe and it was freaking me out.

I found myself clinging to his kneecaps as he dominated my face, not satisfied with fucking my mouth, it seemed he really did want to block my airways with his dick. I could feel it tickle my tonsils, and now the feeling of gagging was much more severe. I tried to make warning sounds that he should back off, but nothing would stop his single minded purpose of feeding me his dick.

I can’t really explain why I let him throat fuck me and I just took it like a good little whore. I think there is something primal about being dominated this way, that was speaking to me. As he got rougher, I became more passive and accommodating.

I am not particularly religious, but at that time, I was praying that at least a librarian had remained in the Library when the pep rally started and would burst into the media room and come to my rescue. I was a little worried that considering how my luck had been recently, the librarian would want to be cock number four.

Then it happened, the second glorious orgasm.

Not his, mine.

I took away a hand I had been using to brace myself against his knee, and put it under my skirt to play with my bare, bald pussy, tugging at myself to help along my orgasm. I didn’t need a special place now, when he finally came, I was already riding a wave of bliss and tingles all over. I didn’t even taste it, his load had been barely a third of Sheldon’s massive cum dump.

He pulled himself off my hungering lips, he was done with me. He zipped himself up quickly, almost as if he was ashamed to have his cock seen by his friends or me. That seemed odd considering how brazenly he displayed it just before, but I didn’t give it much thought. I had swallowed his cum without even thinking about it.

Two boys down, one to go.

I turned to boy number two without saying a word. His cock was already out, he was jerking it himself. I took the liberty of wrapping my lips around it, and he let me take control.

“You are a dirty slut, look at you play with yourself.”

I wanted to point out that he had been playing with himself, and ask did that make him a dirty slut? Instead, I just nodded that I was, and kept tickling my taco. That is one of Chris’s favorite expressions, at that moment in time exactly what I was thinking.

In less than thirty seconds he blew his load. He tried to pull it out, to shoot on my face, but I could anticipate it. I held him to me, and drained his dick down my throat. I am not sure why, I could have wiped it off my face just as easily, but I wanted him to finish in my mouth.

At the end, Score was;

Jamie: 3
Boys: 0

They had spent themselves getting sucked off, and no longer wanted to play dirty games at my expense. They all three just wanted to sit down on the carpet, put their dicks away and look happy. I was more than cool with that. I just wanted to finish the exchange and get going.

“My phone please, Sir?” I wiped my mouth as I turned to Sheldon.

He happily handed it to me, and I considered doing a curtsy. Why waste one, on a boy who seems almost high from the BJ I just gave him?

I was smiling. I had won! I got my phone back, and all it cost me was about ten minutes of almost gagging and being throat fucked by boys, two of whom I had never met. Hey, I am trying to sound positive here, don’t laugh at me! J

I would have enough time to email the photos of my masturbating earlier in the day. Things really were looking up, since I had not lost my phone that was another punishment wiped off my record.

Then I checked the phone, no pictures.

“Where are the pictures of me today, Sir?” I asked alarmed.

“I don’t know” Sheldon was still grooving on a natural high from pumping out his first real orgasm. I could actually relate. Mine had only been the day before.

“Did you delete them, Sir?” I said alarmed.

It didn’t take me long to conclude either the little snot had deleted them and was lying, or more likely he hadn’t actually taken the pictures because he didn’t know how to work my phone. I made a mental note to show guys in the future what button to press.

What button to press? That is a double entendre waiting to happen, I am sure. I suppose if they are going to press MY button, I should help them figure out how to do that as well as the one on my camera. It beats having them fumble around guessing in the dark.

A bell rang; it was the signal that the pep rally was over.

“Wait, please” I begged of the three boys who were already walking out of the media center. “I know this is going to sound strange, but will one of you stay and take pictures of me while I masturbate? I just need two minutes.”

I could probably do a very short version and get away with it, but Dad would never buy me masturbating alone. I’ve had to be supervised every time, and even if their face isn’t in the picture he scrutinizes the photo to tell if someone else is taking the picture.

“What? No, the buses will be leaving in a few minutes.” The first boy sneered. He got his nut, he didn’t have an ounce of lust left in him. I could tell just by how he looked at me. It was completely drained out in the cum he shot into my mouth.

“Please? Please, Sir?” I pulled my top up over my head. I’d have to be naked for this anyway. As I had hoped, the sight of my pink nipples with hoops made them stop and reconsider.

“Why do you need pictures of you playing with yourself?”

I didn’t have time to explain. I also did not WANT to explain. It was easier to masturbate and just seem like I am a horny girl, than to explain all the twisted details.

“Her brother will punish her, if she doesn’t email him pictures of her playing with herself by the end of every school day.” Sheldon smiled trying to be helpful. He was half-right, my father would get the pictures but they would both administer a correction. I did not feel the need to clarify that detail to them. Instead, I pulled my skirt around my ankles and stepped out of it.

Two tiny pieces of fabric separating me from being fully naked. That is all it took to be completely naked as a jay bird (if jay birds wore high heels and cat collars).

I held out the camera, with my finger over the picture button. “Please Sirs, just two minutes. I helped you.” I tried not to dwell too much on the fact that rather than be amused or aroused by the story of my punishment, they seemed disturbed. Had they not just popped their loads into my mouth, they may have been willing.

It was clear they were being far more practical now that they ejaculated the lust liquid from their balls.

A part of me hates to be so graphic, but I am trying to be true to my father’s rules that we be explicit and graphic in our speech. I can see why he enjoys hearing us talk like sailors. At first, I thought it just made them laugh to see us so uncomfortable, but using this speech really seems to be having subtle effects on me. I can’t just use euphemisms, when I paint word pictures of what happened, it is like I am reliving it. Thinking about what I have done in less abstract ways.

“Just play with yourself and take the pictures.” The second boy croaked with a grin dismissing me and turning to leave.

I pouted as they all three turned to walk out of the media center.

“I’ll suck your dicks on Monday.”  I was desperate.

They all turned around. “How can we be sure?”

“You gave me back my phone, I trusted you to keep your word. Trust me to keep mine.”

“Every day next week.”

“I actually cannot promise my mouth on Monday, I am trying to do you a favor. Please, what guy would refuse to take naked pictures of a girl while she plays with herself?”

“One who will have to walk home if we miss the bus!”

“Please Sir? I’ll be good. Only one of you needs to stay….”

They fell for the sweet, innocent Jamie routine. I did not. I felt like a succubus manipulating three suckers. I’d have to get them to keep their mouths shut about the BJ. If Chris found out, he’d definitely start making me do that on my dates with his friends. I am not sure that I’d mind really, I would need time to process what a little slut I had just been. For now, I just wanted to get the pictures to my Dad.

They all three stayed, and I got on my knees, playing with my pussy, pulling my nipples, pulling my ass apart. I caressed myself, and tried to give smoldering poses, sexy but aroused.

“What does it say on your butt?” one of the boys asked.

To answer him, I turned around and spread myself so they could get a good picture. I suppose I wanted to see the picture too. I am curious if I look just like my mom back there, or different. Better?  I didn’t want to think about it. I was busy playing with myself, half paying attention to things and half on a wave of euphoria and sexual release that I was just learning from the night before was even possible. I could smell my pussy becoming wet and musky, it was a familiar smell, difficult to describe but not entirely unpleasant.

“She is like Lindsay Lohan!” One of them observed. What an insult, that trailer trash skank. I tried to picture Lindsay Lohan from Mean Girls before she had fallen into her decline and pretend it had been meant as a compliment. I knew it was not intended as one though.

Sheldon pulled his dick out of his pants, already hard again. That was a fast reload. He tried to approach me with it. I knew he wanted me to suck it. I tried to warn him “No, Sir” because I didn’t want my Dad to know I had done this.

I suppose I should have been worried one of them would rape me, or just take my masturbation as an invitation to go further with me, since I am not sure it’s rape if you’ve started masturbating in front of three boys while they take pictures and something happens. You would sound silly saying, “I didn’t know that might happen” if you tried to explain it in a court of law. I was completely at home playing with myself though. I am not sure if that’s bravery, being naive, or both. It could just be that the three boys, didn’t seem very intimidating. Even Sheldon’s two bullies were more dweeby than they were anything else.

“That’s odd right? Your dad makes you masturbate in front of boys naked, and you are the one who is afraid he’ll find out you suck dicks?”

“It is hard to explain Sir. He is teaching me an important lesson, because of some rotten things I did to deserve all of this, but he wants me safe. I guess it’s mostly look don’t touch”.

He put his cock away, ashamed and embarrassed that I had rejected him. “You touched me earlier”

“I guess it’s MOSTLY look.” I gave him a smile that seemed to cheer him up, that touch was still on the table with us.

We had enough pictures. I was throwing my clothes back on as we ran out of the library like we had just stolen something, all of us laughing as if we had known each other for years.

I skated on to my bus as they did theirs without much of a goodbye. I hit send on my cell phone hoping it was just in the nick of time as I boarded my bus and looked for my brother.

I made my way down the aisle to him. “May I sit with you Sir, or would you prefer I sit on someone’s lap?”

“You can sit on mine.” Chris was in a good mood.

“Do you want to talk about whatever pops up, like in gym class?” I gave him the same line I’d been told at least a half a dozen times since he had started making me ask boys if I could ride the bus on their laps.

This was the first time I rode the bus on Chris’s lap, and he wrapped his arms around me, and began to get hard just like the other boys I’ve done this with. I pretended not to notice (just like I did with the other boys I’ve done this with, lol). It didn’t surprise me I made Chris hard. I’ve come to realize that my body has involuntary reactions to stimulus now, and having jerked him off every day for a week, I know he has some fairly twisted fantasies that turn him on. I’ve seen him get hard watching me pee in the mornings, watching me do jumping jacks, watching me in general.

Boys are perverts. If they get hard, that should be a compliment right? The alternative is they think you are disgusting.

“Did you get your phone, Sis?”

“Yes Sir” I handed it to him, I was also carrying all my homework and his books as well.

“Wow, who took these pictures? This is the library?” he seemed impressed as he scanned through the pictures. I was hiding a prideful grin. Isn’t it silly that I was pleased he liked the pictures? A week ago I think I would have died from embarrassment doing it, much less showing anyone photos of the spectacle.

“Sheldon Cooper and two of his friends Sir, I didn’t catch their names.”

“They just gave you the phone back?”

“No sir” I whispered. If I lied, there was a good chance Sheldon or one of his friends would tell him what we did. “I don’t know if this is against the rules or not, but I sucked their dicks. It was the only way to get them to give it back!” I pleaded.

“All three of them?” His tone sounded disgusted, but his cock was at full mast. He had gotten fully hard under my skirt, and there was no denying or pretending that I could do as if I didn’t notice. I squirmed uncomfortably but didn’t get off his crotch.

“Yes Sir, I am sorry. Was that wrong?” I offered him my baby blue eyes to look into.

“Don’t play innocent with me.” He whispered back. “When I send you on dates, are you going to suck them off for me?”

I had jerked off boys and played with myself for them, let them touch me. He hadn’t asked me to go farther, I think out of respect for me and just that he didn’t want to push things. I hadn’t offered to go any further.

“Can I have more stars if I do, Sir?”

“We can work something out. You little cocksucker, I am really impressed.” He was too because his dick didn’t get soft the entire way home from school.

“I like this one of your tattoo. Don’t you agree it looks really good with your cunt and asshole completely hairless?”

“I don’t have hair on my asshole, Sir.” I pouted.

“Oh and you don’t fart either?” he nudged me in my back with his arm. “You had a few wild hairs back there.” He showed me the picture of my tattoo on my booty. I guess it was a very pretty ass, but it seemed very surreal that it had this big, lewd tattoo on it.

We spent the rest of the time talking about my decision to potentially end my cheerleading career with a ‘bang’. How he saw it working during half-time, and what kind of reward he was willing to give me if I don’t chicken out. I was having doubts that we’d even get that far. His idea was really over the top, and it’s possible Mom or Dad may even nix it, before someone at the school does.

I was wrestling with the idea and reflecting on the fact I had just sucked three dicks only a short time ago. I was still here, I hadn’t “exploded” or gone to hell for wicked sluts. I had done it, survived and was no worse for the wear, really. I mean sure, I had just lost another vestige of my purity, but considering what I was already doing, I was surprisingly at peace with it.

You might wonder about how the rest of the kids on the bus were reacting to  the slutty girl sitting on her brother’s lap. Most of them were tuned into their Nintendo DS, iPod, IPad, IPhone or whatever gadget they had in front of them, headphones on and looking at the screen. If anyone noticed my behavior, they didn't seem to comment on it.

It didn’t stop me from fantasizing that Chris had just emailed the pictures for my father to everyone on the bus and they were in on the joke. They weren’t saying a thing, just to mess with me. They knew my dirty secrets and they were having a laugh pretending they didn’t know.

I have to stop fantasizing. The recent ones have this tendency to happen after a short time. I am not sure which are the fantasies and which are the nightmares. It has all begun to run together.

When the bus stopped near our house, I got off my brother’s lap and pretended not to notice his throbbing boner rising up when I lifted myself off his lap. I knew he was aware I had felt it. I didn’t want to add further embarrassment to either of us by bringing it up. I think I was more surprised with myself that it didn’t really seem to bother me. I guess a week of living like this really changes what kinds of things you’ll tolerate or even look forward too.

“Hands out, Sis” He grinned as we walked a little distance from our bus stop.

I stopped and clutching the books I was carrying to my chest, thrust out my wrists close together.

Ka-chink, the handcuffs went on, as they always did for our walks home. It had seemed a pointless display of power and control when he first began requiring this at the start of the week. I had grown to accept and anticipate being in cuffs while we walked. The funny scenario that ran through my mind was if Chris decided to run off and leave me without a key to get out of them. What would I do if something happened to him and I couldn’t get out of them?

They may be toy handcuffs, but the way they rigged up the safety clasp, I don’t know how I could wriggle out of them.

“Maybe we’ll run into Gerald’s brother on the way home.” Chris smirked as we walked towards our house.

“Why do you say that, Sir?” I was being coy. I knew he suspected I liked Bradley instead of Gerald.

“You can wave hello to him.”

“If you order me, I will sir.” I said taking a very serious tone. I think he notices when I am saying, “IF you order me I will.” what I really mean is, “I will if you want me too, but I REALLY don't want too.” Then again he may not care about the subtle distinctions I draw in my mind and he isn't reading between my lines.

I decided in this case I had better make sure I clarify myself a little more. “I  just ask you give me a little bit of a chance not to completely wreck things with him, Sir. I think if we go through with the stunt that will end my cheer leading career at Cherry Lawn, I’ll have more free time after the training is over. I’d kind of like an opportunity to maybe date someone. The less he knows about this arrangement, the better.” I was biting my lip, hoping that Chris wouldn’t do just the opposite of my request to spite me.

“So you are going to go through with it at half-time?” Chris changed the subject back to the dare he had for me.

“Five stars if I go all the way, and three stars if I try but someone stops me before I get on the field, that is the deal?”

“Yes, you win either way, Sis! You get five stars to complete the dare. You get three stars to be a good sport and if someone stops you.”

I would have hardly called doing what he had in mind “winning”, unless it was Charlie Sheen’s version of “winning” where you tank your popularity and become the biggest laughing stock. I hadn’t fully made my mind up about it, but I was leaning towards following through with the crazy scheme. What was all that popularity worth in the long run? Would I still even want to stay in touch with high school friends twenty years from now? Or would I move on with my life and try to meet the other 300 million people who live in this Country?

“Let’s see what Dad says about it, Sir.” I was hoping he would throw in a few other stars if I play my cards right. Assuming of course, I am not too chicken to do this after all. “Will I be punished when we get home, Sir?”

“Don’t you think you deserve it?”

“I don’t know, Sir. I got my phone back, I sent the pictures.”

“You fell asleep in class, you sucked three boy’s dicks, what else did you do wrong? Probably something.”

It was kind of funny how casually he said ‘sucked three boy’s dicks”, as if it were an item on a shopping list I forgot. The entire conversation was odd in how casually we were talking about my discipline. When I say kind of funny, I guess I mean it was strange to me that it didn’t bother me or register the humiliation it should have with me.

“We have to tell Dad, Sir?” I flashed him my baby blues.

“Don’t give me that look again.” He smiled conspiratorially. “So you want me to lie to dad?”

He had me there. I didn’t want to be punished, but I also didn’t want to get into the habit of outright deceit.

“If you finish every date with a BJ and don’t ask for a star, I’ll think about it.” He offered with delight flashing in his eyes.

“No sir, I’ll tell Dad what I did.” my answered stunned him. “I will tell him I am a good little cocksucker, and I will suck dicks like a good little whore, but I want at least one star per cock.” I was surprised how easily those words slid out of my mouth and were spoken out loud. I had calculated that taking the punishment now and getting it over with, would mean probably several more stars in the long run. I would also have trouble keeping it a secret, so he would eventually find out and when he did the punishment would be far worse.

“You sure?”

“Yes Sir, when I get home I am going to beg for punishment and throw myself on his mercy”. This surprised him even further. It surprised me, why was I getting so brave? I suppose because I hadn’t suffered one of my brother’s “Correction Cards”.

Then again, I had one of those “Get out of Jail cards” my father gave us the night before to play. If whatever I drew was too disgusting I may as well use it now. I couldn’t see the point in saving it for later. That is unless of course the punishment today wouldn’t be all that bad. Gosh, I am so wishy washy about some things.

“You are going to tell Dad you are a naughty little cocksucker and ask him to punish you?” Chris asked in disbelief. “That you sucked off three boys just to get your phone back?”

“Sir, if I am contemplating tonight’s half-time show, you really doubt that I will say just that when we walk in the door?”

“Good point, Sis.” Chris didn’t say another word until we got home.

Somehow I wondered if even if I “won” at getting my point across, he hadn’t somehow “won” at getting me to admit what a nasty little slut I had been and beg for my correction. I’ve got to admit, my brother is a lot craftier than I had ever imagined now that I see him for who he truly is.

“Duh, winning.” I joked to myself as I walked in the house to face whatever awaited me inside.

The Family Feud III

Chapter Twenty-Three
“Bill’s Journal: One”

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 36
Get out of jail cards: 1
JAMIE: 39
Get out of jail cards: 1

**Note to reader: Bill Taylor is not a great writer. His narrative has been cleaned up and edited in order to improve readability, while trying to capture the essence of Bill’s intention. He often pragmatically outlines things, or makes notes that are only relevant to him and in those cases we have attempted to embellish upon and elaborate them. Liberties have also been taken in capturing dialogue.

This journal is an “enhanced narrative” from his perspective without changing his context as poetic license. Some of what is presented is his “internal monologue” that he did not write at the time. The “reading between the lines.” of his thoughts.  Had we presented the original journal it would quite literally be a sequence of events without context. “This happened, then this happened, then we went here.”.

I had just completed Uldaman for the seventh time with my level 65 Death Knight. It was a pretty good run, I managed to get the Gni'kiv Medallion from the dwarf's chest in Dig Two. That and the Tsol shaft from Revelosh got me the Staff of Prehistoria but I think it is soul bound so I am not sure if I can send it to my blood elf.

I should be looking for a job and all that, but the way I look at it the time I am Master of the house is time I really need to enjoy. If I am out interviewing (if I managed to get one) I may miss out on some of the stuff I really need to manage around here with the girls. Let’s be honest, also I really love to play World of Warcraft. I finally left my guild and started my own. I used to avoid leadership roles, but I find I love the shit out recruiting noobs, managing the bank and setting up raids.

Speaking of things I love the shit out of, the first of my lovely little whores is home. Which one is it? Oh Wendy, my beautiful wife and personal slave cunt.

“Hello Whore?” I spun in my chair to address her. She had her gag in so all she could do was mumble as she took the towel she had on off. She knew she had to get naked right away. “Good girl.” I encouraged her.

Just looking at her still makes my cock ache. Twenty years in and I still can't get enough of her tits and ass. Or that face. She used to never get naked for me. I usually only saw her naked in passing while she dressed for work, or under the veil of darkness in our bed on the rare occasions we had sex. Now I feast on her all the time.

I could look all I wanted at every inch of her tight, well-toned, tanned body. She couldn’t deny me looking at any part of her, inside or outside. I enjoyed looking at my handiwork with the strap, all those welts and bruises, most of them I put on her and she took them because she owed it to me. She wanted me to be happy and she endured because I told her to do it.

This is what cocaine must feel like - intoxicating euphoria, with this feeling of invincibility - like you can’t get enough of it. You wake up every day wanting more. I don’t think the girls would go for an extension after they get all their stars, but I can dream. I have some new rules I worked on today. They are not finished, but I kind of hope they draw things out a little longer and give me some more time in the Commander’s chair here.

Even if not, I think the girls won’t question who is boss again for a while. 

Wendy is shrewd, so I need to play things close to my vest. I don’t want to seem too needy and whiny about how they enslaved us and use that to guilt trip her into this. When I introduce the rules, I am going to seem confident and in control just like I practiced in the mirror today.

“Slut, get on your hands and knees and crawl over to me. Suck on these nuts before your cunt of a daughter gets home.” I was sitting naked in my chair, and smiling while I watched her do exactly what I told her with a quickness she never showed before. She was scared, she knew I had read the report Steve sent home about her.

I used to sit around in boxers and a wife-beater, but lately I’ve felt so good about myself, I have not bothered to wear clothes. I am not as pretty to look at as my wife. I’m completely out of shape but it doesn’t feel as wrong to be naked around the house, even alone anymore. I don’t have to answer to anyone if I do, anyway.

I popped the gag out of her mouth and slapped her face. “Too slow getting here, go back to the front door and try it again. This time when you come back shave some time off it.”

I laughed as she waddled away on all fours, back to try crossing the room again for my amusement. It was still sinking in to me as I watched my wife’s ass shake back and forth that she would have that ridiculous tattoo on her ass for a long time. Wow, what was I thinking to let that happen? What is done is done. I am just going to pretend that is what I wanted after all. That is what leaders do. Turn lemons into lemonade.

On her second trip across the living room on her hands and knees, she shaved off a few seconds from her time (I assume as I didn’t bother to time it). I told her “Good cunt, you’ve made me happy. You are really doing your best to impress me with your obedience.” and I pet her head like my puppy. I swear I saw a smile on her face as if she was proud of what she had done. Can you fucking believe this shit?

She was licking my balls as I went back to checking my internet forums. A week from now is this big internet forum meeting that I planned to intend. I’ve already got the reservations and everything, but I don’t think the girls will be done with the training by then. I am probably going to cancel it. That would give Graymalkin a lot of satisfaction. That fucking forum troll has been riding me for years, always disproving my facts and naysaying my opinions about sports and politics.

I could bring Wendy and Jamie with me. The thing is though, I am already feeling weird about people ogling my daughter. I can’t even tell Chris the feelings I am having about all of this. On the one hand, I am actually loving making Mrs. Perfect and her perfect daughter have to eat crow and humiliate themselves. If I kept it all private, just to myself that is exactly what they would expect. They would think I am insecure and possessive.

They definitely hate having to shake their asses for strangers more than I do.

On the other hand, I can’t help but feel, well I suppose I would have to call it “insecure and possessive”. I want Wendy for myself. I want to stick my dick so far up her ass it comes out of her mouth and just leave it there. What does it benefit me to share that with other men?

I will tell you one reason. I want every other man to know what I'm sticking my dick into. I want them to dream they might someday be lucky enough to tap that ass. I like being able to torment her by making her fulfill those wishes because I told her too, not because she wants too. If that is fucked up, then call me 'Fucked Up Bill'.

When I make her share her time, her body, her attention with others, I know it is because she wants to please me. I know that she wants to be with me. That fucking thrills the shit out of me. It thrills me to let men know that the only reason they get anything at all from her, is if I say so.

Hot women can get all this attention from men who want to do things to get in their pants. So how would you feel if you had a hot woman who would do anything to get in yours? Making her prove she will do anything for me, has been the best week of my life since my kids were born.

I am a little less sure about where to go on this with Jamie. She is a beautiful girl, and she is very compliant. She wants to do everything her mother has to do. Which is ironic considering her mother is willing to do so much more if I keep Jamie from doing everything her mother has to do.

Oh god, this BJ feels so fucking good. One benefit of all this is  she has learned to be an excellent cock sucker. Practice does make perfect, and she has me to thank for all that practice! She is thanking me right now with her tongue expertly loving my dick.

She also seems to have gained a healthy fear and respect when I push her in that direction. The fear of what might happen drives her. Her own guilt eats her up, but she overcomes it by whatever demons compel her to stick to this agreement. The night at Rahjid’s motel is always hanging over her head that we may go back to that, or that Jamie may have to go. Those scenarios that may never happen only help preserve my control.

I have to remember to go back over there and get my stuff. I’ve got some old football trophies and things I don’t want to lose that he is still holding for back rent. Stuff if I was going to the internet user’s forum, I’d want to shove in Graymalkin’s fat little face, because he said I wasn’t MVP of the championship game my senior year. I’ve got the fucking game ball signed by everyone including the coach. “Best Player Ever!”

During the day that would cut into my computer time, and at night, well I can’t very well go when I can be getting my balls worshipped like twin gods. Damn Wendy is amazing with that tongue of hers, I think I am going to shoot jizz all over her face.

Oh fuck, that is the door. Chris and Jamie are here. I have to pull my dick out of Wendy’s mouth and hope they didn’t see. Why the fucking charade? I make the little twat pull me off? Why can’t she see Wendy suck my dick? Why do we need these limits?

Damnit, whenever I get super horny and haven’t cum I start to question why there are limits at all. I know why there are limits. Sometimes I just like to hear myself talk.

“So 'Cunt Face', how was school?”

She was already undressing, wiggling her little ass and shimmying out of her skirt. “It was fine sir, but I need to confess my willful misbehavior to you, and beg punishment and forgiveness.” I like how she shimmies out of her skirt. She rocks her ass back and forth like she is hula hooping without a hula hoop.

I know Father's aren't supposed to think that of their daughter, but you would be a damned liar if you saw this perfect body taking her clothes off and weren't moved by it. I don't care who you are. The fact she does it and doesn't even realize she is being sexy is what makes it even more arousing.

Jamie looked like she was stressed out and agitated. I would say excited, but how could someone be excited to strip at the door and submit to humiliating torture? Then again my daughter has always been one to stay positive and energetic. I wonder how much of that is for show and how much she is afraid of my reaction so she is pretending to enjoy it?

I believe my glare was making her nervous, that is good. I could see the look on her face that my scowl was being taken seriously. It is about time in all the 16 years she has lived here, she started to have a little fear of me. That is respect for your elders.

She hadn’t asked for punishment quite like this before. I’ll pretend not to want to do it and make her wait. That should drive her fucking crazy with anticipation.

“I bet you do, you little slut. You don’t run things though do you?”

“No Sir”

“Then get outside with your whore mother and suntan. I want you to apply that crème you got at the fair last night as thoroughly as you can to each other’s fat asses, then I want you to take your position on those shovels and get some sun. We’ll tell you when you can come in and be punished. Chris and I have man business, and there is a lot to do before YOUR football game.” I made it sound like it was a huge sacrifice that the family would be attending her game. Usually we didn’t, so in a way it was.

“That is something we wanted to talk to you about as well, Sir. The football game…” She started to tell me about some dare or challenge that Chris had for her. Fuck that little cunt if she is going to defy me.

“Did I tell you it was time to talk or to get your dainty little ass outside and lubed up with the ointment, then on the poles with your whore mother? Chop-chop”

They both dutifully jiggled their naked asses outside to have one of their long mother daughter talks I am sure. I let them have them. It was more practical to keep them gagged but I think they were each other’s support to keep at it. If I wasn’t mistaken, after their talks they usually both came back refreshed and confident, willing to do more than I even expected of them in the first place.

I am sure the “Pooper Snooper” boys were outside waiting for them on the other side of the fence. I am not sure what is wrong with those kids. They had been out there every day watching the girls. They’d throw rocks at them, pine cones, lego bricks. They’d taunt them, tell jokes about them. Every now and then I’d go to the window and listen and snap a little video to add to my growing collection. It was kind of funny and I wanted to be able to go back over the things we had done and relive them.

That is the reason I am wasting my time with this fucking journal. Why else would I sit here and type it down? So some stranger could jack off to it? That would be kind of cool though. Some stranger with cock in hand reading what I put my wife and daughter through and wishing he were me. Sorry sucker, you aren’t Bill Taylor. I am the original. Ha Ha.

Once the girls were outside I caught up with Chris. I can only understand about half of the things he says. He will say “Cool Story, Bro” or “Come at me, Bro” and I am guessing that means he listened to what I told him and agreed with it. It is hard to tell if he is just amusing me and not really listening some times. I love him though.

Without him, this would be much harder for me. I would feel like the ‘bad guy’ controlling Wendy and Jamie. I know that may sound weird, but having my son help me, and participate kind of makes it feel less “evil” and I have less guilt about it. I won’t kid anyone. I do feel guilt some times.

Should my daughter be jerking me off? Should my wife be sucking strangers’ cocks? Should my son be pimping my daughter and my wife on dates with his friends? Most of me says, “Fuck yeah” but a tiny piece of me knows I am probably going to hell for all this.

Then I will have good company there. I was watching this internet movie the other day. “The Story of O”. It was just clips on a site, but it was so fucking good.

“In a strange, secluded chateau, a woman known only as O is introduced to sadomasochism by her lover: He whips her, chains her and watches her make love to and inflict pain on others. In the process of "proving her love" for him, she gives up everything -- even agreeing to be branded -- to provide him with pleasure.”

That sounds like Wendy. All that would have made it better is “With her daughter” and “By her husband and son” and then I would be like “The Story of OH YEAH!!”

Hah, I’ll probably end up on one of those shows like Jerry Springer or Steve Wilkos where guests admit they are pimping out their aunt or niece. To the producers that is a “Tuesday” show and they may even only be one segment. Where do they find these fucked up people who are willing to come on a show and tell the entire world how they are living?

I barely wanted to write a journal about it.

I come across as the strong silent type. I know that what is happening in my head sounds a lot more intelligent than what comes out of my mouth some times. I’ve found it best to just shut up and let people draw their own conclusions. The problem has been that sometimes people drew the wrong one and I paid for that. I’ve been trying to get better about expressing myself. This journal gives me a chance to practice being a good communicator when it’s just me as the audience.

Chris was a little uncomfortable by my nudity when it was just him and I in the living room. I could tell by his body language but I pretended not to notice. He and I made small talk about school and punishment.

We decided to make them each draw a correction card, but we would introduce the punishments later. This would give them time to imagine how bad it will be and really let their mind go to work on it. They have “Get out of jail cards” so they could just use them. I expect they probably will, but we have an opportunity for them to use up the cards, so we can really punish them next time. It is a win win for me.

Then I showed my rule amendments to Chris. He had some good ideas about some tweaks I could make so I made a few changes.

**If you are interested in the full “Bill’s Bill” foundation of rules, please refer to chapter nine of Family Feud II.

Bill’ and Chris’s First Amendment

We the Men of the Taylor household, in order to form a more Perfect Society, and to insure our Domestic Tranquility have decided to enhance the original Bill with this amendment.

While this amendment is designed to clarify the original Bill, where there is conflict between the Bill and this amendment, this amendment takes precedence.

As the girls are to be treated equally under the rules of the house, any and all females shall endure them equally while under training.

Article One – Terms of Chastity

Chastity devices will be offered to the girls at meaningful times when it is appropriate for them to wear them.

If the girl’s want to put them on, then their bottom holes are essentially off limits for training, games, dares, or play by anyone (including themselves). They can only remove them by getting permission from “key holders” who will supervise the removal and prompt re-application of the device so that they do not play with themselves while it is off.

If the girls do not put them on when given the opportunity, then bottom holes are in play. This includes being touched, inspected and played with when instructed by Taylor men or authorized supervisors. It will still be punishable for sluts to play with themselves without permission and may be considered a “correction”. (2nd level punishment)

Stretching and kegel exercises may be ordered when chastity belts are not worn. Girls go without them at their own risk.

The girls do not have to take more than one finger of penetration in their holes if Chastity belts are not worn.

Exceptions:

Willingly choose a game, contest, dare or other activity that is understood by her to include a cock, she will be required to finish the activity including servicing the cock, or suffer an appropriate penalty.

As part of marital obligations.

If there is no practical way to wear the chastity belt, due to swimming or showering, the owners will notify the girls they have “Free Hole Time”.  They will be treated as if they had on chastity belts, but they do not have to wear them. Girls are still forbidden from playing with themselves or touching themselves without permission.

Free Hole Time may only be granted by Taylor men or handlers.

Article Two- Letters

While stars can still be earned by performing a specific dare that has a star as a reward, those are designed to be hard to do, and failure is expected for most dares (anything worth doing is never easy). The Stars chart the progress towards the completion of the training program.

We shall introduce a letter system that will provide the Taylor men with a more flexible incentive system for moderately complex tasks. Letters will be awarded for specific, measurable tasks and dares, and contest awards, but also when a Taylor girl is caught “doing something right”

When she demonstrates the spirit of submission, that is spelled out in the letters she can be awarded the appropriate one. Each letter corresponds to a different Taylor woman value.

Trivial activities of little consequence or normal protocol will carry with them no letter reward.

There are five letters, each symbolizing a specific core belief that will be instilled in the training. Once a female collects a set of all five letters, they will immediately be converted into a star. The letters (and what they symbolize) are:

W - Working. Producing tangible goods and services for the Taylor Men. Dates who pay to be escorted by the Taylor women can “Tip” a number of W’s at the end of the date equivalent to the courtesy they were extended by the females.

H - Humiliation. Acceptance and participation in both humiliation dares, and living a life that recognizes and encourages your humility.

O - Obedience.  Demonstrating a willingness and desire to obey your betters.

R - Respect.  Show your respect to those in authority. This should not be confused with normal expected protocols of Taylor women. Saying “Sir” is a sign of respect, but this letter is awarded when sluts go above and beyond normal expectations.

E - Enthusiasm. Taylor Men don not want robots. We expect you not only to participate, but to participate enthusiastically. To earn this letter, you should be suggesting your own dares, or helping in your own discipline. You should do your chores and complete your assignments, no matter how unpleasant with a pleasing face and attitude.

Taylor women must have a complete spelling of WHORE to obtain a star.

Taylor women will memorize the core values and when asked about their tattoo will admit they are whores to their Taylor Men. They will also volunteer enthusiastically that each letter is to remind them of one of the core values and if the person wants to hear it, they are to explain each letter patiently.

The Taylor women are also to understand the principles of “HOPE”, Humility, Obedience, Patience and Endurance from the original rules. The WHORE values reinforce and overlap those core principles.

Article Three- Hierarchy

In the Taylor Family, men come first, women come second in all things.

In order to establish a more orderly household, the Taylor men may now promote and demote individuals to the following roles. The roles are listed from highest to lowest.

Owner: The Taylor Men, Bill and Chris own the Taylor women equally. This is the highest rank within the house and entitles them to all privileges and authorities jointly. They will make decisions together, and handle judgments together. It can be assumed that when one Owner speaks, he speaks with the authority of both owners on all matters.

Handler: A Handler will be granted a silver key that they may present as proof of their status. This key will unlock the chastity belts worn by the females of the house. The Handler is a supervisor who has been entrusted to act as an agent of the Owner. They can oversee and conduct infraction, inspections and report all behavior warranting corrections and judgments to the Owners if they are not present. Handlers have permission to enforce “infraction” level discipline and correct all Taylor females. Handlers can award no more than 10 letters per day(in total).  Handlers may change alert levels (see article six).

To be a Handler, one must prove they understand all ten types of “infractions” and be a trustworthy individual.  They must show sound judgment when changing alert levels and instructing the females.

Steve and Cathy Griffin are Handlers.

Key Holder:A key holder may be a temporary title granted for a period of time, or a person may hold that rank permanently.  A key holder will be granted a bronzed key that they may present as proof of their status. This key will unlock the chastity belts worn by the females of the house. Key holders may not punish the Taylor women, but they can report their behavior and award no more than 5 letters per day (in total).  Key holders may not change alert levels.

This is a role primarily intended for men who will be dating the Taylor women. They have direct supervisory capability even though they may not punish. They may inspect at appropriate times under the right protocol.

It is the responsibility of the owners to fully discuss the rules for taking our sluts out in public. This includes the “Seven Rules for Dating” (Article Four).

Owners can require a cash deposit and ID from any key holder they do not personally know before permitting them in this role.

Key holders may not forbid the girls to put back on their chastity belt. If the chastity belt is on they may not play with or insert objects or fingers into any of the slots or openings in the belt.

Authority:A special role for principals, teachers, fire men, employers, police officers, and any one in a position to arrest, obtain, suspend, or fire someone. An automatic condition of “Red Alert” (See Article six) applies when they are present unless otherwise implicitly ordered by an Owner.

Sir/Ma’am:Any one over the age of nine years old, who is not in any of the other roles. They will be treated with respect as the better of the girls. They will only be referred to by their name if they request it, or as ordered by a key holder or higher.

Child: Anyone nine or younger, who is not in any of the other roles. They will be treated with respect as the better of the girls, however they will be referred to by their name.

Whore:The females of the house, who are owned and trained by the males of the house. They will labor, serve and amuse their betters whenever possible and live the virtues of WHORE and the values of HOPE whenever possible.

Pig:A role reserved for females of the house who have proven they are not benefitting from our generous education and discipline program. This role requires stricter discipline, harsher penalties. The Pig will not walk on two legs at home without special permission except during red alert protocol. The pig role will automatically be applied if either Taylor girl fails to get all of her stars within 30 days of the start of her training. It is intended to be an incentive to hurry up.

It will be the duty of all Taylor women to recognize and respect each role according to their status.

Article Four – Rules for Dating My Wife or Daughter (key holder rules)

(Formerly the “Seven Rules for Dating My Teenage Daughter”)

ONE-No back talk from her, she'll eat what you order her, she'll watch any movie you want without complaint. She'll listen to anything you say, and let you finish your thoughts completely before she speaks.

TWO--She'll show deference to you, she'll call you and any male she encounters Sir, and any female “Ma'am” with few exceptions. She is not to flirt with others unless you want her too while she is under your supervision.

You may ask her questions about her discipline, and the core values of the house if it interests you. She is not to bore you with those details and protocols unless you explicitly ask for explanations. Please understand the girls are being trained in ways of humility, obedience, patience and endurance. They will remain submissive for the entirety of the date unless you act in an unstable or dangerous manner or violate any of the conditions of these rules.

Then they have my permission to contact me, and there will be repercussions, including the possible loss of your deposit.

THREE--She is to sit without crossing her legs. She isn't a proper lady, so don't expect that.

FOUR--She is to sit and walk straight up, not slouch.

FIVE---She'll ask permission to piss or shit, and she needs to tell you which. You can only make her wait up to 15 minutes, and you can't make her do it in public places.

SIX--- Other than the bathroom, you are not to let her out of your sight. If she does have to go to the bathroom, or you have to excuse yourself to go, you should stuff her panties into her mouth so she doesn't talk to anyone else. She may require you to let her out of a chastity belt. You should observe her the entire time. She is not permitted to play with herself. She can wipe quickly and promptly put the belt back on.

You may not touch her pussy or ass, if she removes her chastity belt for this purpose.

SEVEN---You may not discipline them, or have sex with them. This includes playing with her tits, mouth or ass (see exceptions). You may however handcuff her hands behind her back as long as it is done discretely especially if you feel she is up to any sort of shenanigans. You may make out with them for up to ten minutes on my porch before you drop them off, if you are dropping them off on time and have time left. You may pinch/twist, play with tits, or kiss open mouth during the ten minute “good bye session” even if she has on a chastity belt.

You may want to keep a running list of things you feel they did wrong, that were not pleasing or in the spirit in which you rented them. We will cheerfully correct their behavior when they get home, but no refunds will be issued under any circumstances.

Exceptions: If the girl did not wear a chastity belt to the date, you may pinch, twist, touch tits, mouth, clit or ass. You may not penetrate the asshole or cunt with more than a finger.

Article Five- Bells

There will be two distinct bells purchased for the whores of the house. Each Taylor woman will learn the sound of her bell and will come immediately to the source of the bell.

In Green Alert (See article six)

When she arrives, unless otherwise instructed she is to take the “Squat position”. Spread knees apart squatting, cup her tits with her hands, and look straight ahead. Ass should be parallel to the ground.

In Yellow Alert

When she arrives she is to kneel on the floor, legs apart, palms on thighs facing upwards.

In Red Alert

When she arrives she is to stand with hands behind back, eyes straight ahead, chest out.

This is the summoning bell, and failure to arrive promptly can result in a “correction” level punishment for extreme tardiness.

It will also be a correction for arriving when someone else’s bell is rung.

The slut should arrive cheerful and pleasant, ready to carry out the order of whoever rang her bell.

Article Six- Alert Levels

In order to respond in an agile and appropriate manner to changes in social settings, owners and key holders may change the “Alert Level” in their immediate presence.

With a single phrase everyone must conduct themselves according to the new alert and their role. It is imperative that everyone appear to be consistent in their behavior and not disagree when an alert is changed. This is for the benefit of outsiders who may not fully understand or appreciate our agreement.

Green Alert- This is the assumed protocol unless otherwise stated.

  At home: Taylor women are to be naked (unless ordered otherwise). They should not talk out of turn. They will behave in the generally accepted manner according to the whore/hope value system. They are not permitted to use the toilet, and should ask permission whenever in doubt for anything. Infractions, Corrections and Judgments can be administrated. They can be ordered to openly masturbate others or themselves. They should sit with legs apart, and may not use furniture.


In public: Taylor women will be braless, without panties, in collars and heels (unless ordered otherwise). They should not talk out of turn. They will behave in the generally accepted manner according to the whore/hope value system. They are permitted to use the toilet, and should ask permission whenever in doubt for anything. Infractions, Corrections and Judgments can be administrated. They can be ordered to openly masturbate others or themselves only in private or semi-private surroundings. They should sit with legs apart, and may use furniture.

Yellow Alert- This is a protocol of caution, behavior is limited. Taylor women will be trained how to behave under Yellow Alerts so as not to embarrass their owners with their crass and slutty manners.

At home: Taylor women are to be clothed (unless ordered otherwise). They should not talk out of turn. They will behave in the generally accepted manner according to the whore/hope value system. They are not permitted to use the toilet, and should ask permission whenever in doubt for anything in a quiet manner without alerting anyone “Authority” level or lower. Punishments will not be openly discussed, and will be administered later. They should sit with legs apart, and may not use furniture.

In public: Taylor women will be braless, without panties, in collars and heels (unless ordered otherwise). In all other ways, this functions as the “At Home” protocols. They should sit with legs apart, and may use furniture.

It will be assumed at work or school, Taylor women are at Yellow alert unless otherwise specified by a Handler or higher level authority.

Red Alert- This is the highest level of discretionary protocol available. This is reserved for special situations where decorum and modesty are expected, even of sluts and whores like the Taylor women. Court appearances, parent teacher conferences, church ceremonies, etc.

At home: Taylor women are to be clothed. They should not talk out of turn. They will behave in the generally accepted manner according to the whore/hope value system. They are not permitted to use the toilet, and should ask permission whenever in doubt for anything in a quiet manner without alerting anyone “Authority” level or lower. Punishments will not be openly discussed, and will be administered later. They should not sit with legs apart, and may use furniture.

In public: Taylor women will be braless, without panties, in collars and heels (unless ordered otherwise). In all other ways, this functions as the “At Home” protocols for red alert.

White Alert- This is a “fun status”. The Taylor women are to behave as if they are wanton sluts in need of correction and guidance. It is intended for use when Mrs. Waxerman visits or in her presence in order to shock her.

The Taylor women will practice and be trained how to behave in the most amusing and generally outrageous way, in order to push buttons.

The “Alerts” were all Chris’s idea. I had to admit they seemed like a good addition. I am sure the girls would have a lot of questions about when, what, where, and how often and with whom. They always did. That being said, I added them down to my amendment and decided I would demonstrate the protocols with them when we were in public.

I would also have a “Black Alert” for Wendy. I wouldn’t write that one down, but I’ll go over it with her when we are alone. This is for when she is at work, and she needs to maintain her cover story with Steve and her co-workers.

Under that protocol, no chastity belt is allowed, and she won’t have to call her co-workers Sir. We’ll keep Jamie and Chris from finding out about it, as long as Wendy keeps up her end of our little bargain. She’ll need to purposely sacrifice stars so she never exceeds Jamie, and of course do all those extra things that a cum gobbler like her has to do.

Wow, was I smiling at this list of rules. I was licking my lips like I was about to dive into a juicy steak thinking about the look on their face when I showed them.

Granted a week ago my impulse would be to keep things simple. Vague rules suit me, that way I am not bound by conditions and it makes it easier for me to make things up on the fly.

What I have learned this past week, and come to accept, is life isn’t always simple and failing to plan, means planning to fail. I hate to admit it, but Wendy was right about that one. I am not going to tell her she was right. I am just going to try to cover as many things as I can and show her.

Besides, what fun would it be if Satan unfurled his long scroll of conditions and stipulations when he wants you to sign your soul away and it was "Simple" and clear cut?

Showing the girls I put thought and effort into this benefits me in a lot of ways. It gives them confidence I have a plan and I am listening to their concerns. It also actually prepares for what to do instead of winging everything and waiting until I am in a stressful situation to start brainstorming the best plan.

The rules are flexible enough to act as guidelines and there are enough loopholes in there, I am actually having fun imagining ways I can twist things around for my own benefit. Chris is probably going to become a lawyer, because he gave me most of those ideas!

Things had gotten out of hand at the fair, at the motel, different points in life. I can’t plan for every possible thing that can go wrong or right like a flow chart. What I can do though is have some clearer guidelines about what happens on dates. As much as I pretend not to care, I have worried about Jamie on those dates. The only saving grace has been she is on birth control and Chris’s friends seem mostly harmless.

I think the chastity belt option is going to give me more peace of mind. I think being more explicit is going to not only impress the girls that I’ve taken this seriously, but it is going to actually avoid some headaches and misunderstandings down the road.

This was a real slam dunk today. It was almost worth missing the all-star game on TV and a few hours of raiding in World of Warcraft to organize my thoughts.

Working with Chris on this, I can see it in his eyes that he is excited too. I don’t know why I haven’t asked him if he plays World of Warcraft too. We just have the one computer, but it seems like we’ve really bonded over this discipline stuff. If it ends, I wonder if I should buy another computer so that we can play together?

That is a thought for another day. It’s time to call those bitches inside.

The Family Feud III

Chapter Twenty-Four
“The Spanker in the Rye”

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 36
Get out of jail cards: 1
WHORE: 0,0,0,0,0
JAMIE: 39
Get out of jail cards: 1
WHORE: 0,0,0,0,0

"Among other things, you'll find that you're not the first person who was ever confused and frightened and even sickened by human behavior. You're by no means alone on that score, you'll be excited and stimulated to know. Many, many men have been just as troubled morally and spiritually as you are right now. Happily, some of them kept records of their troubles. You'll learn from them - if you want to.  Just as someday, if you have something to offer, someone will learn something from you. It's a beautiful reciprocal arrangement. And it isn't education. It's history. It's poetry." ~J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye.

**Note to reader: Like the other family member’s narratives in this story, care has been taken to preserve the context of the journal while improving readability. Chris’s writing is surprisingly much like Holden Caufield’s character in “Catcher in the Rye”

Chris only uses this style of writing for his journal. He has never read “Catcher in the Rye” and is unaware his English Teacher would be very pleased to note the similarities in style if he chose to write some of his creative writing assignments this way.

I had just walked my sister home from the bus. You never know what you are going to see when you open the door to my house. It could be my mom cuffed and gagged running high-steps while my Dad lays on the couch shouting at her, or today she was on her knees probably sucking his dick.

I guess you can know what you will see when you open the door to my house, my mother or sister squatting and being kept naked while we laugh at them.

I think Dad may have actually been playing World of Warcraft. Way to go dad! I always assumed when you get his age, you have to just be into sports and fishing. Is fishing a sport? It probably shouldn’t be. How hard is it to catch fish that can’t leave the lake they are in? Duck hunting would be a better sport, because at least they can fly away.

Can you imagine me and Dad duck hunting in the winter? Stranger things could (and have) happened.

It was pretty obvious to me that we had just walked in on my Mom sucking on Dad’s dick. It was amusing to watch the two of them scramble and pretend they were doing something else. It’s best to just pretend you don’t notice in situations like that.

Dad called Jamie an “Ass face” and had her strip at the door. I like that he takes control of the situation and I can just sit back and observe. Sometimes it bothers me that he doesn’t let me handle things, but in the end, Jamie is naked and I’ve got clothes on.

Speaking of naked, how awkward is it that Dad is just sitting around with his junk hanging out?  I thought we were supposed to be mad about how they enslaved us and kept us naked? How weird is it to see your father’s tool flip-flopping around the living room? I just pretended not to notice his boner, but it completely reminds me of when him and I were on the receiving end of the discipline.

He hustled the girls outside to put on their ointment and get some sun. We all know it’s really so the kids in the neighborhood can peep at them in the backyard. I don’t think Dad cares too much about their sun tanning. I know I couldn’t give two shits about it.

He completely ignored Jamie wanting to admit she sucked three dicks today. He also didn’t want to hear about what I’ve got in mind for her to do at the half-time show. He was too proud of his new rules.

I looked at them, and came up with an idea where we can shift everyone’s behavior with a simple phrase. “Hey, Red Alert. It’s a cop” or “Okay, go back to green alert, that motherfucker is gone now.” That is funny. Fuck the police.

My grandmother sent me a book by Ring Lardner for my 13th birthday. Almost every time somebody gives me a present, it ends up making me sad, but not books.

It had these very funny, crazy plays in it, and then it had this one story about a traffic cop that falls in love with this very cute girl that's always speeding. Only, he's married, the cop, so he can't marry her or anything. Then this girl gets killed, because she's always speeding.

That story just about killed me. What I like best is a story that is at least funny once in a while. I read a lot of classical books, like ‘The Return of the Native’ and all, and I like them, and I read a lot of war books and

mysteries and all, but they don't knock me out too much. What really knocks me out is a book that, when you're all done reading it, you wish the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him up on the phone whenever you felt like it. There aren't many stories like that, though.

I could turn my journal into a book. Can you imagine someone jerking off to my life? How I pimped out my sister and now my mom, and spent the cash on some sweet Bakugan cards and a vintage Star Wars action figure? The thing is, my writing is too “talky”.  No one but me would probably want to read anything like this, so telling the story of our little family feud and how it all worked out will probably stay a pipe dream.

So many things have happened since it all began, it would take chapter after chapter to tell the story anyway. Then there is right now? Who would want to jerk off to me and my dad talking about the rules? Then again, I didn’t think anyone else got off on “Game of Thrones” porn. That is until I found a website devoted to Tyrion fucking Sansa Lannister that someone must have spent hours creating. That was fucking hot.

I will keep the idea for a telling of the story in my back pocket. You never know if there is some dirty minded perv who would enjoy reading about our family’s secret. They would probably think it’s all made up anyway.

Once dad and I got done with the rules, we brought my mom and sister back inside. I love to look at them after they’ve been out in the backyard getting sun. My mom has this fine oil sheen of sweat on her back, and because she is taller and more filled out then Jamie, she reminds me of a Clydesdale or one of those strong war horses that Knights rode around - muscular yet feminine, powerfully driving itself headlong against the wind at your command.

Then there is my little sister, such a perfect body. She has no idea how perfect it is - the symmetry of her natural tits, the hang of her peach-perfect ass cheeks - they seem to sag and shift in all the right places like succulent fruit I just want to bite into. She has just the hint of a six pack abdomen. Damn, did nature bless the two of them.

Not like me and Dad. I don’t know, if I worked out I could probably be buff and hung and strong and all. Why would I though? Be like all those phonies at the gym working out all the time to prove something to someone?

Then again, I could probably get the babes. Cathy at school keeps offering to trade me other girls that she has in her little stable of confused cunts in exchange for a day with Jamie. There is this one called “Hope” who is on Jamie’s squad that I like.

I was half in love with Hope when I met her for the very first time. That's the thing about girls.  Every time they do something pretty, even if they're not much to look at, or even if they're sort of stupid, you fall half in love with them, and then you never know where the hell you are. Girls. Jesus Christ. They can drive you crazy. They really can.

Then there is another bitch named Veronica who has known Jamie since she was little. She used to have this crush on me - chased me down the street with snot running down her nose trying to tackle me or something. As if that is how girls get guys. She was only about 7 years old at the time, and a lot has changed in the last decade or so.

Now all she does is give me the stink eye.

Cathy isn't as all knowing as I once thought. She is the nucleus for a clique of girls who used their good looks to get what they wanted. Some of those girls did it because they enjoyed the power and others because they wanted acceptance into Cathy's clique. They got bored playing with just each other's lives and that’s when they branched out to blackmail some of their friends into playing their games too.

I know that I am not the only one running a 'Babysitter' club renting out a hot cheerleader for dates. Cathy's market is older men with disposable income. That is why I've been sticking with my friends. It isn't just that I don't want to encroach on her target audience, I also love the popularity I have now with my guy friends. It seems now that I have something they want, I am everyone's bestest chum and old time good buddy.

What a bunch of phonies.

I keep hoping Cathy will offer me Veronica. I’d love a chance to spank that ass! The problem I have with it, is I am not sure I want a girl because she has to do me. I mean sure, my mom and sister, but another girl.

I also don't know if I want to give Jamie up for a full day with Cathy Griffin. I think I have some hold over Jamie’s guilt about what happened to me the day she gave me up for a full day with Cathy Griffin. Once we are even, she may not feel like continuing things as they are.

Hey, also I am not a complete sadistic asshole. Cathy Griffin makes me and my Dad look like amateurs by comparison. Then again, Veronica's ass is like a juicy tomato I just want to bite into.

Speaking of asses, Dad finished letting Mom and Jamie read the rules. They had to do it in position one holding their asses apart. It is such a laugh to watch them ask serious questions to clarify his short-hand rules while trying to hold that position. I just can never get enough of how absurd this situation is. I also love to look at assholes.

I like to watch Jamie’s pretty pink poop hole flutter and puff out, then ‘poofta’, a tiny little escape of air as her asshole puckers and kisses out the teensiest of farts. There is something so satisfying knowing that even a creature who is so outwardly as perfect and beautiful as her, rips a fart just like me.

Well not like me. Even her farts are poetic and dainty. Mine, not so much.

The girls agreed to the rules once they were clarified. I was really pleased with the rules about the bells. I was going to have a ball ringing for their fat asses. I love to say “Fat Asses” even though they have perfect, tight asses that make me want to take a bite out of them they are so perfect. I could bounce a quarter off my mom’s little bubble butt.

The more you say “Fat Ass” or “Get your fat tits in gear”, the more it seems they start to believe it. Girls are silly, vain creatures sometimes who are their own harshest critics. I’ve even heard my mom refer to her surgically perfect jugs as “Fat tits” since I started saying that to her.

I should probably take notes on all those clarifications but I am memorizing every tiny wrinkle on my sister’s cute asshole socket - The skin where her asshole and pussy lips meet. That is an area of no-man’s land that she never showed to anyone, now she has to face it towards me while I smirk and giggle. That rocks!

Then there is that perfect cunt of hers. It was just a sliver of delicious pussy pie. There was nothing on the outside. You could just see a fine slit and the hint of pink. I hunger to pull on that tiny mound of  delicate flesh that is peeking out from there now, turning her innie into an outie.

I just reached out and gave it a honk. No one said a word about it, as if that was totally normal to squeeze your sisters clit. I love this family!

Then it was time for punishment. Dad has decided to let them sweat it out for a little while. I agree. I wish he would ask my opinion before making these decisions for the both of us. The new rules basically say that when one of us speaks, it is on behalf of both of us. I hope he really means that when things are up to me and stands behind my decisions. So far he has stood behind me, even though I can tell he doesn’t really like the tattoos.

The tattoos are fucking amazing to me. They have all these hidden designs in the art work. Dinosaurs, Skulls, you name it, I think it’s like a Ronnie James Dio album cover on their turd machines. I think not only as living art emblazoned on perfect asses, but also that they symbolize something bigger.

I am going to print out the pictures I have of them and get them blown up full poster size and put them over my bed. Then I am going to jerk off to them nightly after the training is over. Why does it have to be over? Would be worth it to let them enslave me for a few weeks, to get a few more weeks back in charge of them?

I know, am I sick or what? It's no fun to be sick. Maybe I'm not all sick and every guy dreams of controlling his hot mom and sister. I don't know. I think maybe I am just partly sick and partly the type that doesn't give much of a damn what others think.

Jamie and Mom both took positions on their floor kneeling with their legs spread apart so that their knees touch the carpet. They almost reminded me of naked monks meditating the way dad had them lay their palms flat on their thighs facing upwards.

“Wendy Taylor, tell us what you have done wrong today, and await your punishment” My Dad said as if he were a judge at a court proceeding.

“I lost my cell phone, I failed to get pictures emailed to you before the end of the day of me playing with my cunt. I was slow in delivering my work to Steve, and I failed to follow all of my protocols.”

“Why did you lose your cell phone?”

My mom paused as if considering her words. “A visitor to my office took it by accident, and I didn’t have time to get it back.”

“Are you concerned he’ll see what is on the phone?” My dad asked patiently.

“No sir, he knows I am a whore. He was there in part to take pictures of me masturbating, but he didn’t get a chance to finish before we came home. I will ask him for the phone on Monday.”

“Ask?”

“I will beg him to return the phone on Monday, Sir.” My Mom corrected herself just as natural as you please. There was nothing phony about how she answered his questions.

That is one thing I will say for them. Jamie and my Mom were stuck up, and self-absorbed with their own lives, pains in my ass before we started training them. They are not dumb like most girls. They are smart, but they also say what they mean, and mean what they say. I wish I could be more like that.

“Do you think you should be punished for your mistakes?”

“Yes Sir, so that I can learn to be more responsible with the phone you permit me to use. The punishment will remind me not to waste time and try to get the photographs to you sooner. The punishment will teach me to respect Steve more as my new “Handler” and carry out his assignments quickly.”

I may have to take it back what I said about saying what they mean. There was something about my mom’s words that were guarded. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but she didn’t fully believe all of what she was saying. If I had to speculate, I bet the guy from her office that has her phone walked off with it on purpose. She also has no control over whether he would take pictures of her or not. Now is not the time to stand up for her, it is going to be fun to see her punished. I’ve put a lot of fun punishments into the ‘funishment bowl’ this week and I want them to draw.

I will just pretend to be dumb Chris who is only half-listening for a little longer.

“Do you believe one correction is enough for all that you did wrong today?”

“What I believe is irrelevant Sir. You are my owner. You will decide what is an appropriate punishment for my mistakes.” There we go, my mom was sounding more like she really believed what she was saying that time.

“No cop outs. I know that I will decide what is appropriate. Do you think one or two corrections are fair?”

I could see my Mom was chewing her lip with indecision. If she picks one she sounds like she is trying to get out of this with the least amount of pain and humiliation. If she picks more than one, she runs the risk that dad will agree with her. This should be interesting to hear her answer.

“As I’ve not received many corrections, it is hard for me to say what would be a fair amount. I believe one would be sufficient and if I fail to learn my lesson and repeat the mistake next week, then I could better tell you how severe the punishment should be to help me remember to not let it happen again, Sir.”

I was impressed. “Good answer, Mom.” I interjected myself into things. It is good to do that now and then, so people don’t forget you are right there watching and listening. No one answered, but some times that is a good thing. It means that what I did wasn’t out of the ordinary, and seemed to fit into the situation. No comment needed. That is at least how I take it when that happens.

She drew a card. It was one that I had written. I licked my lips in apprehension as she read the card aloud. I love the sound of her voice as it trembles across certain words and then she tries to recover and stay strong while she finishes it.

Elemental Category: Ice, Heat, Wind, Rain, the power of the earth itself will chastise you for your transgressions.

This is the twelve ice cube challenge. You will stand outside on the patio with twelve frozen ice cubes. You may pick any hole (or combination of holes). You will insert them quickly one by one.

You will stand in position one and wait with an empty glass in one free hand. The fill line on the glass is half an inch. You must leak the water to fill the glass (spit or piss does not count). If you do not reach the fill line, you will return to the freezer and repeat until you have filled the glass.

You will present the glass to your owners when complete and beg forgiveness for what you did wrong. You will apologize and explain how this treatment helped you to be a better person.

Bonus: Drink the water (slut squeezin’s) for one star.

Ooh, I was looking forward to that one. Lucky for her she didn’t get the Chinese water torture one I dreamt up. That one would be a lot worse and more time consuming. I was delighted to see the wince register on her face as she read aloud “Slut squeezins”.

I love the idea that they have to think about the punishment for a while before we give it to them. Technically, you should punish someone on the spot when they do something wrong. I think that works for the immediate corrections and small stuff. I think for the things they did wrong earlier in the day, making them wait and imagine what it will be like may be more diabolical than the real thing.

“Thank you Sir, I accept my sentence, and await your instruction to begin carrying it out.”

“We don’t have enough time now, because of your whore daughter’s football game.” Dad said as if he hadn’t fully intended to make her stew on the punishment for a while. I knew better.

“Jamie, your turn. What haveyou done wrong today, and await your punishment?”

“I fell asleep in class, Sir.” The first correction didn’t seem all that surprising considering we had all stayed up so late the night before. I yawned at the thought of how much sleep I wanted to catch up on. Then again, I could sleep after this training was over to my heart’s content. I am sure Mom and Sis would think twice before waking me up again.

“I also was late sending my pictures to you, because in order to get my phone back, I agreed to suck three boy’s dicks.” She said as if it were the most trivial thing anyone has ever done. I had to admire her courage.

The look on Mom and Dad’s faces was priceless. There was this stunned silence. It was time for Pimp Supreme Chris to talk.

“Yeah, I told her to do that. I am an owner too, so it was okay, right?” I lied for her. I could see she was looking at me with concern.

“That isn’t what happened. He did tell me to get my phone back, and where to go. He didn’t tell me to suck their dicks though. I decided that when I got there, Sir.” She could have left it vague, Dad may not have probed too deeply if she let me cover for her. Sometimes I don’t understand girls at all. Not at all. That is one reason I try to steer clear of relationships. Crazy bitches, even my sister with her head on straight, seems crazier than any guy I know.

“So you just offered to suck their dicks like a slut?” My dad was getting upset, and I couldn’t quite read my Mom. There was a mixture of “Oh no, I knew things would get out of hand” and “Oh my god!!” on her face, that you couldn’t quite tell what she was thinking. I bet she was thinking about when I made her suck Gerald’s dick the night before and wondering if she had to admit that.

“No sir, they said it was the only way to get it back. I am learning to be a good slut. I had to make a judgment call. If it was wrong, then I submit to the appropriate punishment for my crime. You should know that I agreed to suck their dicks next Monday as well. I told them my mouth was not mine to offer.”

“What on earth? If they were giving you the phone back, why did you agree to suck their dicks again?” My Dad was confused on the details as much as I was. Well that isn’t true, I really didn’t care about the details. I was already counting up the dollars I could make now that I knew I could rent both my mom and Jamie out as dick suckers. That is of course, if Dad doesn’t throw a fit and blow all his gaskets and say no one can suck on anything.

“The first time was to get the phone back. Sheldon hadn’t actually taken pictures of me masturbating at lunch as I thought. He didn’t know how to work my phone. That was my fault for not showing him Sir. They WANTED me to suck their dicks every day next week in order to stay and snap the shots of me playing with myself for your amusement. I told them I couldn’t promise Monday, but they agreed to it.”

“Wow, do you like sucking dicks?” My dad asked her point blank.

I was looking at mom for most of this conversation. I thought she may erupt like a volcano. Her face had turned red like a ripe tomato but so far no lava was raging out of her lips. 

“It was my first time. I thought I would mind, but it wasn’t as bad as I had been led to believe. I was raised to be a good girl and wait, Sir. I realized though it was something I would eventually do, so I thought maybe you would want me to suck cocks.”

“That isn’t a very clear answer. You have one more chance to tell me, slut. Do you like sucking cock?”

“Yes Sir, I did.” Okay now my focus was back on Jamie’s face when I heard her say that. I could not have imagined she would say that. In a way, it almost took the fun out of the idea of making her suck dicks for money next week thinking she may be getting off on it. I said almost, I didn’t say that it DID take the fun out of it.

“Wendy, what do you think of your cock sucking daughter?” My Dad asked a question I wanted to know the answer too. What was percolating behind my mom’s pretty green eyes?

“I cannot judge my daughter for something I have done. I am a cock sucker like her, Sir. I begged to suck the dick of the man who took my phone. He just wouldn’t let me.”

“Why did you not admit that when your misbehavior was being reviewed Slut?” My dad fired back the question and he was upset.

She stumbled with her words. I could tell from her expression she had some secrets she was keeping. Personally, I don’t care about secrets. If people want to keep them, they can try if they want too. If not, why even have the concept of secrets at all? All the truth is, is someone’s secret that they couldn’t keep.

“Chris, one short question. Don't you think there's a time and place for everything? Don't you think if someone starts out to tell you about her father's farm, she should stick to her guns, then get around to telling you about her Uncle's drinking problem? Or, if his uncle's drinking problem is such a provocative subject, shouldn't she have selected it in the first place as his subject--not the farm?"

I didn’t know what my Dad was talking about. I just cut to the chase and said “Yes, she should have told us she sucked a dick at work. I think the new rule has to be, no cock sucking unless you get our permission.”

“Whose hole is this?” My dad put both fingers on either sides of Jamie’s mouth and pulled it open hard.

“Yoursffff” She splurted out with mouth held open unable to talk.

“So why do you think you can promise that pretty little mouth to boys, to get what you want out of them? Aren’t you owned by us?” He let her mouth go and twisted her nipple.

“I am, and I agree Sir. What I did was wrong. I will tell them I cannot suck their dicks on Monday, and accept punishment for also offering something that wasn’t mine to offer, Sir.” She was almost in tears over that one. I think breaking her word to Sheldon meant a lot to her.

Trust me, that boy was used to disappointment. He is sensitive, like a toilet seat is sensitive. He has been sat on by life like one too. This would be good for him, prepare him for the long string of disappointing relationships he is going to have with women for the rest of his life. If you think he is a pathetic twerp, you should see his Dad.

Damn, wouldn’t it be fun to rent Wendy and Jamie to them on a double date?

“Wendy, I am going to ask you this one time, and one time only. Whatever you answer right now, is the final answer on the matter. There is no going back, there is no changing. You know your daughter sucked three cocks today. You know she wouldn’t lie about it or make it up. She is a lot of things, but she isn’t much of a liar.” He paused to let this sink in, while going back to sit on his recliner. Jamie’s left foot had begun to shake nervously, but she was holding her position in front of us fully composed. No tears like I had hoped.

“I know you agreed to be humiliated along with your daughter, and we haven’t pushed the issue of sexuality too much. Knowing what your daughter did, is there any reason she should not suck dicks during the training?”

My mom swallowed. I could feel a long boring lecture coming on about trying to expose us to things when we are ready for them, so that we can make appropriate decisions and leverage the guidance we had received.

“No Sir, she is a cock sucker just like me.”

I think my boner just grew an extra inch (that wasn’t there before) when I heard my mom say that. That was fucking hot. The hottest thing I have heard in a while. Judging from dad’s face you wouldn’t know he was getting turned on. Unfortunately for him, he had chosen to be completely naked and his stiff woody standing straight up at attention told an entirely different reaction. One that I agreed with.

“Are you going to take that back if we have you suck cocks together? Side by side?” I was having trouble believing my Dad was willing to say things that were so outrageous.

“No Sir, the rules apply to us both equally.” My mom’s voice cracked as she said it. I could see goose bumps rising up on her skin all over, around her tits, down her arms. It was cold in here though, we kept the AC blasting now that the men run things. So it could be that, although I like to think it was the sudden mental image she just got of the two of them playing skin flute on  a couple of lucky guys.

“Who is the better cocksucker of you two?”

Mom hated this. I knew she hated it. I loved it.

“I would suppose I am, since I’ve had more practice Sir.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I am not sure, Sir.”

“If you weren’t sure, why did you say you are?” Dad had her there.

My mom was holding back tears. I could see she was in distress. The thing is, even though she was disturbed by all this, a part of me couldn’t help but wonder if she was enjoying it. I wish she was, because I sure as fuck am.

Sometimes I act like I'm about thirteen. It's really ironical, because I'm six foot two and a half and I have gray hair. I really do. The one side of my head--the right side--is full of millions of gray hairs. I've had them ever since I was a kid. And yet I still act sometimes like I was only about twelve. Everybody says that, especially my Dad. It's

partly true, too, but it isn't all true.

People always think something's all true. I don't give a damn, except that I get bored sometimes when people tell me to act my age. Sometimes I act a lot older than I am--I really do--but people never notice it. People never notice

anything.

“You should have a dick off.” I volunteered.

My Dad didn’t seem to understand what I was saying, and I think he had more questions for my Mom but he let me explain.

“Let them both suck your dick, and you decide which one is better. That one will teach the other one her tricks. Then you can have another dick off and see which one has shown the most improvement. Maybe we can get a little trophy “Best cock sucker” and whoever has it, gets an extra star or something.”

“I like how you think. Don’t you want to be a judge?” my Dad asked me. It was fun to talk about Mom and Jamie as if they weren’t in the room. Like they were cattle at the market and we were deciding if we should fatten them up for winter or go ahead and send them to the butcher right now. They both had this glossy look on their face like they were pretending not to listen, but I knew the two of them were feeling a sense of objectification when we did that. I always did when they talked like that about Dad and me.

“Getting a hand job from them is one thing, but I don’t know. I mean, My Mom and Sister?” I hate when I get too shy and reluctant and retreat into my shell. I should have said “Fuck you, I want to plant a dick in their asses, and watch it sprout!” but I didn’t.

I think a part of me is very embarrassed about what I am making them do, and I don’t want them to think I am such a bad guy after this is all over.

“I understand. It probably isn’t as enjoyable to you if THEY do it.” Right on dad. The way he said that sliced through both of them like a knife. He had turned it around to make it sound like I was just not into it because I wasn’t turned on by them. The rock hard spike in my pants told another story.

“Jamie, if we let you keep your word on Monday to the boys, are you going to balk and hesitate if we tell you to suck someone else’s dick?”

“Is it for Stars, Sir?” She might have sounded greedy when she asked for clarification, but if you knew how Jamie was, you could tell it was more curiosity and a desire to be sure of what she is saying, than a desperate greed.

“Well, you will certainly earn “W” from article two of the new amendment for it when you do it on a date. As far as stars, I think only when it was particularly difficult. How hard it is to open your mouth and put it around something like the corn dog? You think that is a special talent, or it’s something women have been doing since the dawn of time to convince the men of their cave to go out and hunt and risk their lives to bring food back to the campfire?”

“Since the dawn of time, Sir.”

“Who are the men of your cave?”

“You and Chris, Sir.” I could tell from the lemony look on her face that she knew why Dad had asked that.

“Your mom was sucking my dick when you came in. That is why I am still hard.” Dad was lying, he had been limp and had gotten hard hearing her confession. I am pretty sure everyone else knew he was lying but if they did, no one said anything.

“You can draw your correction card and suck my dick, and I’ll decide who is the better of the two of you. Chris will read what you drew from the fishbowl.” I wish he would call it a funishment jar, that is such a clever term. I also wish he didn’t volunteer me to be the bad guy who reads the punishment while he sits in his lazy-boy and gets a knob-bob.

“Thank you, Sir.” Jamie came forward to draw from the jar. She was looking at Mom as if for a sign to back down or to stop. Mom said nothing, she remained kneeling in the position they had started with.

Jamie drew the card and handed it to me as courteously as she could. She even returned my stare by looking me in the eyes. I gave her a reassuring look. I think that is what older brothers are supposed to do in situations like these. (If there is a handbook that talks about situations like these, I'd love a copy).

She then took a position in front of dad, on the floor and pulled her hair back behind her head. She was apprehensive at first, the way someone holding a joystick for a video game tries to look for all the different buttons before they finally start using it. Then she opened her pink mouth hole and began bobbing up and down like a sewing machine.

“Ahem, your punishment, should you choose to accept it is.” I said as I read her card out loud.

Endurance Category: Hard work obediently done for the pleasure of your betters according to your station.

This is the Waxerman Lawn Challenge. You will go during daylight hours dressed in a street legal bikini, and mow Mrs. Waxerman’s front yard. You will be pleasing and accommodating to her in all ways and tell her that you were sent to trim her lawn as a courtesy from Bill Taylor and his son.

You will trim all hedges, edge all sidewalks, rake and bag all leaves and do a professional job on the front lawn.

You will knock on her door and ask if she minds giving you access to her back yard. You will disrobe as it is fenced in and hang up the bathing suit saying that it is sweaty. You will ask her if she minds (After you undress)and unless she tells you she does, you will complete the backyard fully undressed.

We will make sure she is home for this. If Mrs. Waxerman is unavailable for seven days, you do not have to complete the punishment.

Bonus: You will tell Mrs. Waxerman you have been constipated for several days after gorging yourself on cheez-whiz and crackers that were intended for Chris and Bill. You will ask (beg) if she will administer the “Patented Waxerman Tabasco Colonic.” in exactly those words. You will tell her that you receive them regularly at home, but that Bill does not mix them quite the way she did the first time. You will ask her not to tell us (Which will ensure she tells us).

You will not be punished for asking her to not tell us something in this situation. You will receive one star if you take the bonus and she does not administer the enema. You will receive two stars if she does. You will receive four stars if you can carry the water all the way home and release here.

This was one of my better card ideas. I was so glad she picked it and hoped she wouldn’t chicken out and use her “Get  out of jail free card.” One of the reasons I tacked bonus items to all of mine, was that they could only get the bonus if they took the punishment. This way they have another reason to accept it.

Imagine the irony of having a “Get out of punishment free” card, and not being able to use it, because you also want the reward that goes along with the punishment. A reward that will free you from this entire game, or training or whatever it is we are actually doing with each other. I sometimes see it as a game. Then I actually see life as a game some times.

“This card will self-destruct in ten seconds.” I joked as if it was something from Mission Impossible or whatever that show was where someone would hide a secret message in a lunch box that would then blow up. How dumb is that? Someone opens it by mistake and then ka-boom?

“That is going to be pretty cool. You can use the new protocol Dad and I came up with. White Alert. Like Betty White, I guess.” I said, which admittedly sounded pretty stupid once it came out of my mouth.

Dad wasn’t listening and from the looks of it neither was Jamie. She was expertly tonguing the tip of his dick, darting her tongue out and flicking the edges of it. This was my little sister and she was really sucking dick like a perfect natural. Dad was grabbing her long blonde hair in one hand and pulling it away from her head like a pony tail. The other hand he would periodically brush against her nipple as if he were looking for some place to channel his ecstasy back into her or at least find something to do with his hands.

“Chris why don’t you order your mom to suck your dick.” He said like a guy who loved sandwiches who just happened to be eating the best sandwich of his life and really couldn’t be bothered to think about anything else.

My Mom had been watching Dad and Jamie go at it the entire time. She hadn’t dropped her gaze, and her face was completely pale.

“If you don’t want to, I understand.” I fumbled.

“What I want is irrelevant, Sir. You may order me to give you head, and I will obey.” She said it loud enough Dad and Jamie could hear. It was kind of passive aggressive as if to say to them “Hey, I am going to suck my son’s dick, do you care? Put a stop to it if you do?”

They didn’t stop. Jamie was giving his dick a real work out. If blowjobs were first impressions, she was making a great one on Dad.

I sat down on the couch next to my mom and looked at her. “I KNOW I can order you, Mom. I have to admit I am curious what it is like.” I looked over at Dad enjoying himself, twisting his fingers in my sister’s hair. She was sucking shamelessly, as if her life depended on pumping that vanilla cream from her father’s cock. It was hilarious.

Okay, hilarious isn’t the right word, so fuck it, I will be honest. It was the dirtiest, sexiest shit I’ve seen in my life, and I’ve been all over the internet. I guess seeing one person going down on another’s cock in person, is so much more personal and intense when it is happening right in front of you, that videos of it just don’t do it justice.

My mom continued to look at me and then back at my father and Jamie. She was waiting for me to finish my thought. I loved that I could make her wait now. It must be eating her impatient little ass up at times that I don’t have to hurry up and blurt out what I want to say or else she’ll move on to something else. She has to wait for me, on my time table.

“Would you like to suck my dick, Mom?” I asked curiously.

“Please don’t ask me like that, Sir.” She sounded pathetic.

“Okay, you want too, but you need me to order you so you don’t feel as slimey about it?”

“It isn’t like that, Sir.” She kept her tone low. Dad and Jamie probably wouldn’t have heard her if she shouted. Jamie was glugging cock and I think one of her hands was down at her sweet little cunt tickling that knotted clit rising out of her pussy. I didn’t say anything. We are supposed to punish them for catching them masturbating and so far I haven’t caught them doing it when they didn’t have too. Considering what she was doing, I just let it go. She would get a nice punishment soon anyway.

I reached out with a curled finger and lifted my mom’s chin up so that she had to look at me. It was a pimp move, the kind you do when you want to take control of the situation and be suave. I had seen it in movies before. I liked how my mom’s eyes flicked up at me as she followed my finger with her head. “So what is it like?”

“You won’t stop with just blowjobs. After this, it’s going to be fucking.” She always had a way of thinking two or three moves into the future. We are on blowjobs, my mom is on the fucking that comes down the road after we tire of just BJs. She can’t give a simple yes or no to a question, she thinks she can, but she is so damned evasive.

“I will be satisfied with blowjobs.” I smiled reassuringly at her. “Assuming, that you can give satisfying ones like Jamie. Can you?” I was hoping I twisted my smile into an evil grin to impress upon her she had better give me a good one if she wanted me to stick with just blowjobs. I say hope, because without a mirror I couldn’t tell if it was a goofy grin or an evil one.

I assumed she got my point because she moved herself in front of me without being ordered. “I’ve been drinking your cum all week, Sir and I’ve played with this cock.” She took it out of my pants for me. “I’ve played with it enough times that I should be ready for this.”

She was messing with my boner by seeming so sad and pathetic. That is not cool. Drastic measures had to be taken.

I wasn’t going to sit there like a lump and let her do it. I stood up and pulled my pants down to my ankles, then I kicked off my sneakers and jeans. “Start playing with your poop hole, don’t put one finger in your wet pussy unless I tell you, understood?” I demanded.

“Yes Sir” she did exactly what I told her while I got myself ready.

I stood right in front of her and slapped her with my hard cock in the face and pat her head with it. “Thump, Thump, Thump” I said as I hit my pecker playfully on the top of her hair.

“Here, hit yourself in the face with my dick. Don’t take your other hand away from your asshole. Keep only the left hand on my dick. Don’t put it in your mouth. Hit yourself in the face with the dick.”

I was getting sticky precum on her nose. “Harder” I took her left hand with my right and started to beat her in the face with it. Then I teased, “Why ya hitting yourself, why ya hitting yourself?” like she used to do with me when I was three and she’d take my hands playfully and make me hit myself (not hard). She started to smile just a little bit.

“Oh that’s not funny?” I joked. “You know what comes next?”

“Yes Sir?” She answered very seriously, more a question than a statement.

“Oh what?” I said as I made her give herself a shot right in the nose with the head of my dick. “What is it, Wendy? What comes next?”

“I…I don’t know sir”

“Of course you don’t.” I replied sarcastically but in the same playful manner. “That’s okay. It shows you were actively listening. That is the important part” My condescension was obviously not serious to her, and I could see her brook a tiny smile now.

“It’s tickle time, bitch!” I launched myself on to her and forced her down to the ground by lying straight on her back. I was wrestling just like at school, except this time I had surprise on my side. I also was allowed to tickle, which I did mercilessly.

She began to giggle and laugh and as my tickling of her ribs and naked body all over became more and more frantic she dissolved into a wave of hearty continuous laughter. Her chest was heaving as she gasped for air in between uncontrollable laughter. It made it easy to pin her down that she wasn’t fighting back. She didn’t have any reason too, this wasn’t a wrestling contest, as far as she knew I was just roughhousing.

“Are you going to suck my dick like a good slut?” I asked once her laughter became hysterical sobbing.

“Yes sir” she got out between giggles in a soft tone.

“Not good enough, are you going to suck on these nutz, like a good little fucking slut, you BITCH?” I was done tickling her, but we were still on the floor together.

“YES SIR, I am going to suck your dick if you will put it my…” and as she was about to finish that thought I stuffed seven inches of Chris Taylor into her mouth catching her completely off guard. I’ll never forget the mental snapshot I took of her cheeks puffed out like blow-fish and her eyes wide like saucers.

I face fucked her while she lay on her back. I was straddling myself over her face, holding her head up. I wasn’t looking at Jamie or Dad, for all I knew they were done and watching me with awe. Hopefully they would be cheering “Go Chris, Go! -You crazy motherfucker.”

I am really a motherfucker, you know? I mean doesn’t this technically make me one? I hope so.

“You like that bitch? You like that?” I never know what to say during things like this. I hate repeating myself, but it is difficult to come up with clever remarks spontaneously. It is always after that I think it would have been cool to say “You are going to eat my dick, and crap cum for a week”.  That would have been a good one. I’ll have to remember that.

“That’s it cunt. You can play with yourself, go ahead. Let me see you.”  I gave her permission to use her hands to play with herself, because she was rubbing them all up and down my back and it was starting to put me off my game. It was so gentle and loving and I was going more for ‘brutal and face fucking’.

Nibble on my dick, like a rat does cheese.” I pulled my cock out of her mouth. Mom can deep throat. She had the entire thing in her mouth. I put the bottom of my cock right on her lips, that thick vein down there. She puckered up her lips and started to gently nibble. It really blew my mind. Blew it so hard, I shot cum all over her face, and made the “OH!!!!!!!!!!!” shout that cavemen have been doing probably since they first figured out the benefits of bringing food back to the campfire. It was bestial and it was a lot of spunk. I let it squirt all over her face and up her nose. It is a mental image I will never in a thousand lifetimes forget.

“Stay that way, cunt. Don’t lick it up.” I dismounted myself from her chest and got my bearings. I was dizzy, the blood was rushing back from my cock into the other parts of my body and that makes me sleepy and not horny.

“You like me to cum, don’t you? Keeps me docile, doesn’t it?” I don’t know why I did this, but looking down at her I spit on her face. That was a little extreme.

Funny thing is, she didn’t say, “Wait a minute Chris, time out.” She took it. In fact, I think it seemed to fit the situation. I had used her face to dump my cum, and then now that I was done, I spit on her. If you could see my face right now, I am smiling when I write this. Can you imagine how twisted a guy has to be to smile about spitting on someone? You had to be there, bro. I was in the moment and I didn’t feel guilty about it at all.

I looked around and saw Dad and Jamie staring at us. She was still kneeling at his face, but eyes glued on me. He looked like he was exhausted but he watched me intently.

“So who did the best blowjob? You’ve had them both?”

My dad laughed. So did my mom. So did Jamie. So did I.

I hadn’t intended it to be funny, but it came out that way in the point blank way I asked the question as if I was unmoved by what I had just done. I liked it.

I licked my lips. I could taste the salty sweat that had transferred from my mom's body to me, looking at my recent handiwork without shame. My mother sprawled out on the carpet. I felt alive, primal, invigorated. I felt like I had just written my name on her face and claimed her with my cum.

“Wow, I think I just pulled a Jamie all over mom's face!” I laughed and in my mind, I had this epiphany. I was looking at the glazing I had just jizzled all over my mom's face and lost myself in this daydream.

I pictured all these girls, not just Mom and Jamie. High stepping across the field, with their hands tied behind their back, wearing nothing but rubber ball gags, black hats and black shiny boots. This big field of rye and all.

Thousands of hot milfs, teenage girls, sexy meter maids, all made equal by their lack of clothes. Big boobs, medium boobs, little boobs, all jiggling and bouncing in unison as they march. Nobody's around – no other men, I mean - except me.  And I'm standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. 

What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff - I mean if they're running and they don't look where they're going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That's all I do all day. I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all. I catch them as they fall, and spank their asses and turn them back around so they march in the right direction.

They need me to set them back on the right path, and unless I spank their asses they'll turn right back around for that cliff again. If I do it hard enough, they'll head back in the right direction.

If my sister and mother were heading off a cliff in how they were living, unable to stop themselves from marching in that direction, then isn't it my duty to spank their asses so they don't continue on that path and their ultimate destruction? The pain tells them not to go that way, even if everyone else is heading for that cliff.

I can't catch them all before they fall, but the ones I do should thank me.

I know it's crazy, but that's the only thing I'd really like to be. I don’t know what else to say about it.  

The Family Feud III

Chapter Twenty-Five
“Bust Buy”

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 36
Get out of jail cards: 1
WHORE: 0,0,1,0,0
JAMIE: 39
Get out of jail cards: 1
WHORE: 0,0,1,0,0

**The Taylor’s Story returns to the previous narrative voice.

There was a lull while everyone processed what had just happened. All four of them had just crossed a new threshold in their arrangement and each of their minds were abuzz with questions, concerns, guilt and in a few cases elated lustful desires.

“What do you think that was, a W or an O?” Bill asked his son, as he got his second wind and recovered from the orgasm he just had into his daughter’s mouth.

“What do the letters mean again, Dad?” Chris asked.

“W, is ‘working’, and they definitely worked the cum out of our cocks. O is for obedience, and they obeyed well.”

“When they suck other people’s cocks it should be a W, I will go with an O, for Orgasm for when they polish our peckers. It is easier to remember that way.”

“Great, O it is! We will just keep track on note paper, until I can think of a way to keep it better organized.” Bill scratched some letters down on a scrap of paper as if the matter was as trivial as writing down a phone number. They were purposely ignoring the girls, leaving Wendy with cum still drying on her face as she lay on the living room floor.

“I’d put it in my cell phone, but those have a habit of walking away.” He glared at the his wife and daughter to make his point about their phones earlier in the day.

“You can lick the cum off your mom’s face, hurry up, Ass Face.” Bill made it sound like this was a privilege as he commanded his daughter to lick her mom’s messy face.

“If Jamie is Ass Face, what does that make Mom?” Chris asked while they watched Jamie go on all fours over to her mother, licking the cum off her face. She seemed reluctant at first, but after a few quick swaths of her tongue, she found she didn’t mind the salty taste and awkward position of cleaning her mother.

“What do you mean?” Bill replied to his son’s question with confusion. He had called Jamie “Ass Face” the way he called her slut, cunt, bitch or any number of names.

“Well that is the second time you called her Ass Face, is it a nickname?”

“I hadn’t thought about it like that. I just called her Ass Face, because everything that comes out of her mouth hole has been shit lately. I like the idea of nicknames though.”

“Pet names” Chris offered and they both fist bumped “Bro's before Ho's”.

“We’ll have to try a few on your mom and see what sticks. I like that idea.” He looked over at his daughter who was finishing cleaning her mom “We’ll call you bitches, cunts, twats, and so on, but from now on, Jamie you will answer to Ass Face as your personal pet name. When we say Ass Face we always mean you. Understood?”

“Yes Sir”

“We have a lot of things to get done if we are going to the football game. I still need to think about that, so you two cunts face us in inspection position one so we can do your affirmations.”

“Wait, I thought we had an agreement that if one of us says something, it goes. Why is it just up to you about the football game, Dad?”

Wendy and Jamie stood up with legs shoulders width apart, chest out, head straight. Hands placed on ass cheeks pulling them both apart, and knees slightly bent to face the men. Wendy silently wished her son would know better than to have disagreements in front of her and Jamie. It undermined their authority. Then she wondered how she had gotten so turned around in whose side she was on. Only days earlier she was realizing what an advantage it was that they weren’t working like a team as she and Jamie had done.

“Yeah, but I am her father, and if she gets suspended from school or worse that is a big deal. It could have an effect on the rest of her life even after the training is over.”

“Dad, am I an equal owner of Ass Face or not?”

“Is this where you are going to draw me a mental chart and get me to agree to a big tattoo?” Bill was half serious offering some levity and conceding his son’s point. “Fine, I agree. You are her owner too. When we are apart, whomever is present decides, but when we are together, we have to both agree. That is fair, and you are absolutely right. I am sorry about that.”

“Hey, don’t apologize. We have just added these new rules and it is going to take some time to work it all out. I vote she does the stunt tonight at the half-time show. Since you aren’t convinced, allow me to drive the affirmations and if you still say no, then I will acquiesce.”

Bill was surprised his son knew what “acquiesce” meant. He didn’t, but he assumed it meant he’d let Bill have his way. Bill couldn’t hide the look of pride on his face for his son, not that he wanted too. He was seeing things in him, he had never seen before and it was all for the better.

“Ass Face, are you now a cum gobbler?” Chris began the affirmations.

“Yes Sir, I am a cum gobbler.” Jamie tried to sound positive but choked a little on the last two words.

“How many cocks have you put in your pretty little mouth today, Ass Face?”

“Four sir”

“Are you ashamed of what you did?”

“I am kind of.” Jamie struggled with the answer. “Not to you and Dad, now you know I am serious about completing the training. I want to thank you for the “O” you gave us, it was very generous.”

“Brown-noser” Chris smirked. His sister's face remained calm and serious with only a slight hint of a grin, keeping her eyes forward and her composure, awaiting his question. “You seemed to really enjoy sucking Dad’s dick. Is that what you did when you blew the other three guys?”

“I am still learning Sir. The first three I don’t think I did as good of a job, but they came so I guess that is the goal. I just decided if I am going to do it, I may as well do the best one I can.”

“Good girl, and you want to learn to be a better cock-sucker?”

Bill was unsure what this had to do with the football game. He had a lot of places he wanted to get to tonight. He was getting impatient, but he was also curious what his daughter might say.

“Yes Sir, if I am going to be a cock sucker, I may as well learn all the tricks of the trade.” Jamie’s trademark positive attitude made her response of doing the best she can at anything she tries seem completely natural despite the taboo surrounding exactly what she was willing to be good at.

“Mom, tell Ass Face one trick that she may not know about sucking dicks?”

“One thing I do, is hum a few bars from Warrant’s “Cherry Pie” sometimes.” She was surprised she answered without hesitation. The response not only reinforced that she accepted Jamie’s pet name was “Ass Face”, but that she had a ready tip to offer on giving good head.

It was clear neither of them understood what she was talking about.

“May I demonstrate on you, Sir?”

Chris nodded and his mother knelt before him, cradling his semi-flaccid cock and putting her mouth on it like a harmonica. Then she began to ‘hum’ a song into it, sending ticklish feelings all up and down his spine. After she finished the demonstration she returned to her inspection position crisply. “You guys probably never heard Cherry Pie, so probably something more current with a good beat. I haven’t been listening to the radio lately.”

“Ass Face, pop quiz. You are told to give a hummer, what song do you pick?” Chris surprised his Sister with a rapid fire question.

“Lady Gaga, Born this way?”

“Lame, think again.”

“Taylor Swift…”

Before she could finish naming the song he cut her off, dismissing anything by the goody-two shoes teen pop artist. Chris strode to the computer and typed in youtube “Bubble Pop”. A cute Asian girl named Hyuna began singing A cute, catchy, bouncy song with an obvious sex appeal, and a sexy beat.

(Ooh Boy) neoege nal matchujin ma

(Hey Boy) naege deo baraji ma

(My Boy) geopumcheoreom geojit mameul

Bubble Bubble Bubble Pop!

Bubble Bubble Pop! Pop!

Oooh, Ah, Ah, Ooh, ooh.

Despite being in a foreign language, the bubbly song had an infectiously uptempo style that oozed a vibrant sexiness.

“Get over here on your knees, both of you!” Chris demanded and then he presented his cock which was almost fully hard. “You each take a side, now hum.” He positioned their heads on either side of his dick, so that their noses touched and they blew onto his dick sending him waves of tingling pleasures all up and down his spine.

They puffed air, both in tandem with one another to the groove of the song. Looking into each other’s eyes while they did it to the absurdly saccharine sweet lyrics, they couldn’t help but smile. It made the disturbing act of giving a joint hummer to son/brother a little more palatable to them both.

“This is the song you two cocksuckers will hum from now on when you are twerking on peckers, until you are told otherwise. You will practice to this song, and you will learn to dance this, a mother-daughter cheer of some kind.”

He let them look at the computer monitor. The tall gorgeous Korean girl was expertly shaking her ass in time with the song. Even without understanding the language, there was enough English and imagery to know this song was inspired by American pop stars like Miley Cyrus and Brittany Spears and it oozed sex appeal.

“Hear this part? That is dubstep” Chris noted a break in the song where the music changes up and becomes a grindy, trance-techno pop and loses some of its sugary-sweetness. He placed the palms of his hands on their head and turned them to face his hard dick once again, and let them continue humming.

“I wanna see you dry hump the air, wiggling your asses like this video while you give me hummers in the future.” It was all over so quickly, the two of them had jointly blown on Chris’s cock as if it was perfectly normal.  He stopped them before he came a second time once he was satisfied they understood his new hummer requirements.

“Good, get your asses back in front of Dad, so we can talk about the cunt stunt tonight.”

Chris quickly explained what he had in mind for Jamie at the half-time game. It sounded outrageous, and over the top. “Ass Face, tell your owners why you want to take this dare? It sounds like some administrator would probably put a stop to it before it begins. If they do, she gets three stars just for showing the courage to try. Like you say mom, the old college try.” Chris continued. “She gets five stars if she finishes it. Ass Face, tell your owners why you want to take this dare.”

“If Dad doesn’t want me to do it, the way you were describing it, it does sound a little extreme, maybe I shouldn’t sir.”

“Oh, chickening out? I thought you were ready to focus on more important things?”

“I am. I agree.” Jamie’s mind was racing with the idea that like the tattoo, the piercings and the three way cock sucking she had begun today, she may have just once again opened a Pandora’s box in suggesting she sacrifice her popularity at school in a grand gesture. “I could just quietly resign from cheer leading and all the clubs and organizations I’ve been focusing on. That way there would be less embarrassment for everyone. They will probably throw me off the squad before half-time anyway. This is my first game I am going to be without my spanks.”

Jamie went on to paint a picture of doing the pyramid with the girl right beneath her holding her up with a fist directly on her bald cunt. Doing jumps and high kicks and how obvious it would be to anyone she has nothing on underneath her short skirt.

“Actually, you WILL have an opportunity to wear a chastity belt if we get going in time. It will seem to most people you’ve got something on under your skirt,” Bill’s suggestion eliminating that particular roadblock. He was usually a person who looked for reasons something wouldn’t work, it was still a new experience looking for ways it could.

“Earlier today, I realized that you guys are most important to me. I’ve spent my life away at cheerleading camp, or modeling, or scouts, clubs and organizations. I didn’t get to know you as much as I should have, because I was focusing on being what I thought I was supposed to be, Sir.”

“What you thought you were supposed to be?” Bill asked.

“Because of my looks and how everyone treats me. I just assumed I was supposed to go be a popular cheerleader. I don’t even know why. What is the point when high school is over? I was just being popular to be popular. Some people do it to get the perfect boyfriend, girlfriend, or to stroke their own ego, or to run in the right clique. I am not sure why I was doing it. Chris made a good point. That if I am going to go out, may as well go out with a bang, and not a whimper.”

Bill raised a curious eyebrow. That was a way of thinking about it he hadn’t considered. His pragmatic mind had a checklist:

Is this no benefit to me? = yes.

Does this involve extra effort to me= yes

Does this have risks that I don’t want to deal with = yes

Three “Yes” answers on the Bill’s priority checklist was an automatic “no” to him. She had made him willing to keep an open mind. Bill was wary each time he had deviated from his checklist like when the tattoo happened, and Rahjid’s motel happened.

“And what if you get suspended from school, Ass Face?” he asked politely, wanting to be convinced. The tone of his question contrasting sharply with the word, 'Ass Face', being used in a sentence.

Jamie smirked again at the tone of his voice and how polite and casual it sounded even though he called her 'Ass Face'. “Well, that is a good point, Sir. I don’t imagine you want me home unsupervised while you are out on job interviews.”

He cleared his throat unintentionally. Wendy smirked, she knew that Bill was probably NOT on job interviews.

“Didn’t you say in the gym when we were wrestling, that he could send you outside on all fours with Rosco every day?” Chris asked his sister.

“You guys wrestled in school, and they allowed that?” Bill interrupted before she could clarify that she had actually said it in an exaggerated joke, “He’d PROBABLY send me outside on all fours with Rosco!”

“Yes Sir, they aren’t that old fashioned.” Jamie hadn’t intended for her tone to sound as condescending and imply her father’s generation was out of touch. It just came out that way.

“So who won?” he looked to his son expectantly ignoring his daughter’s tone for now.

“Neither of us won, we had to do jumping jacks until the end of the class.”

“Damn, that is harsh.” Bill looked sympathetically at his son, but ignored his daughter’s reaction.

“Coach Andretti is harsh. The other day he said to me, “Taylor - you are slow, fat and lazy!” then he paused before delivering his punch line “Coach already knows my name!”

“That couldn’t be Gerald Andretti?, I went to high school withhim. Hair greased up and slicked black, Italian, New Jersey accent?” Bill asked.

“The very same.” Chris answered.

“He was a huge stoner when I was a teenager. He hated jocks. He used to hang around behind the gym and we’d, I mean I would see him spark up joints. I would never have pictured him turning out to be a high school gym teacher.” Bill seemed surprised.

“Okay, and you want to spend the next week outside on all fours like Rosco if you get suspended from school?”

“No Sir, actually I was just kidding. I meant to say you would PROBABLY send me out there, because you would be so mad.”

“You are absolutely right, that is exactly where you belong. You are an Ass Faced house pet. When you crawl on all fours I can’t tell which end is your face and which is your ass.  Are you too good to be on the lawn?”

“No sir, I was just outside..” She was cut off before she could point out she had just spent an hour getting sun on the lawn in the nude.

“Why do we call you Ass Face?” Bill didn’t have the patience to hear her answer to his last question.

“Because I talk so much shit, sir.” Jamie almost sighed her response.

“Why do we treat you like a house pet?”

“Because I treated you both like house pets, and made fun of you, and this is payback, Sir?” Her answer sounded like a question at the end.

“Good guess, also because you are a whiny little cunt, who needs to learn you aren’t too good that you can’t be brought down a notch. Humility of spreading your ass on all fours, Obedience of staying where you are told, Patience of sitting all day with nothing to do or anyone to talk to besides Rosco, Endurance of the hot sun and conditions in the dog house. Give me one good reason you should be anywhere else if you get suspended?”

“I can’t Sir, and if you want me outside, I will obey like a good girl.” Jamie was flustered. “Maybe the risk to our reputation as a family though is too great.” She sounded reluctant to proceed. She still remembered how she narrowly missed suspension after the famed “Banana in the bathroom incident” with the last principal.

“Our reputation? How would this reflect on me? That I have a slut daughter? I enjoy exposing you as a little slut. You have been a cock tease and a princess for too long. You are the slut whore of a slut mother. Are you not?”

“Yes Sir, I am a slut whore.”

“I’d let more people know about it, if I wasn’t a reasonable man. I could probably make a ton of money in the legitimate porno business with you and your mom doing incest acts for video. Don’t tell me I am a dreamer either! I may have fucked up the first time I dabbled in porno, but this time I would find a buyer for whatever content you two bitches can provide.”

“You can say I am a dreamer, but I am not.” Chris said.

“What?” Bill turned to his son.

“John Lennon, he said, ‘You can say I am a dreamer, but I am not.’”

Bill laughed at his son, unsure if he intended that to be funny or not. He finished his son’s quote “The only one.”

“The only one, what?”

“Never mind, son. Anyway.” He turned back to his daughter. “You want to go out with a bang, I respect that. I support that. You can do the dare with my blessing, but you will wear the chastity belt. That is the only way I will let you go through with it. With the understanding, that your daytime will mostly be spent as Rosco’s new companion.”

“I am not sure, Sir.” Jamie had mixed feelings about going through with it now.

“You are going to pussy out now? After you got me to agree to it? You were willing to do the entire family fun night for ten stars. This is maybe ten minutes of time, what is the difference?”

“Those were not all my school mates, Sir.” Jamie was weighing her options.

“Some of them were, and didn’t some of the pictures make it around the school today?” Chris interjected his question. This news surprised Wendy and Bill.

“What if an administrator had seen those pictures?” He asked his son.

“I am sure they did. They were on posters all over the school.”

Bill shook his head. Things really had changed since he attended Cherry Lawn in the 1980s. He thought it was pretty wild when for senior prank they had taken a cow upstairs and put all the cafeteria tables on the roof.

“Eight stars, not a penny more. You do a good job, and you get Chris’s five, plus my three. Final offer, Ass Face.”

She decided not to say anything and just nod. She knew he was talking to her.

Jamie looked at her mom, who gave her a supportive look but offered no suggestion on whether to accept the offer or not. Wendy wanted to offer guidance, but she really felt it wasn’t her place.

“Don’t look at ‘Cow Tits’ for an answer. She isn’t in charge of her own ass, much less yours.” Bill insisted.

“Oooh, Cow Tits. How is that for a pet name? You are on a roll dad.”

“Yeah, that works for now. Cow Tits, you like your name?”

Wendy wasn’t sure what to say, she didn’t particularly like the name. “Are you going to call us these in public?”

“In Green alert, most likely so. Why, would that embarrass you?” Bill knew it would.

“Yes Sir, I believe it obviously would. If people ask my name, I can still say Wendy?”

“You can say anything you want, but if you want to earn “H” for good performance in public, you will answer with your pet name or something equally as amusing. Understood? There are consequences to every choice. You want to prove your willingness to amuse the men of the family, here is your chance.”

“Am I Cow Tits because of something I do wrong, Sir?”

“You are Cow Tits, because of those fat udders you paid for with money we could have set aside for some important shit we are going to buy tonight – unless you have objections to how I handle the household finances?”

“No Sir, I am sure you’ve checked our accounts and what we owe, I trust you to make the right decisions. You are right, that was greedy of me to pay for the boob job with money we could have used for a college fund for the kids.”

Bill was thinking more like an Xbox360 or new truck, but he didn’t want to quibble over details (or admit his desires were also pretty selfish).

Wendy was thinking that the boob job had given her an edge in advancing her career, but she didn’t want to open that can of worms just yet. She also wasn’t completely truthful about trusting Bill to have the finances worked out.

She HOPED he knew how much they were taking in and how much needed to go out. She had a careful balance worked out so that electric, water, car payments, house payment, credit card payments could all be made around her semi-monthly pay cycle.

Wendy felt it should be obvious when to pay what bill from their shared online banking account, so she assumed he would take care of it. It was important to him to be the “man of the house” with the money. She was relinquishing motherly authority over her kids, and personal authority over her own body, she couldn’t very well claim authority over the money. Wendy felt Material items had to be lower on her personal priority list. She held out hope he would handle those affairs. It is only two weeks, how bad can things get? She thought to herself.

Bill and Chris went back and forth with a few more general affirmations before giving the girls an abbreviated inspection and instructing them what to wear.

Jamie was in a powder blue tank top that did nothing to hide her puffy nipples and hooped piercings, and a plaid catholic school girl skirt. She had black platform pumps with shiny buckles and straps to complete the ensemble.

Wendy had on a yellow tube top that just covered her boobs, exposing her shoulders and stomach. The elastic material did nothing to hide the outline of her piercings but it was thicker than her daughter’s sheer tank top.

Almost as if compensating for the benefit of the thicker material, her purple micro mini skirt was slit down the side, and left almost nothing to the imagination. It was tight around her waist, causing her to have to wear it even higher than it was supposed to be worn. The bottom of her pussy lip was right at the edge of the bottom of the skirt.

She had on red “fuck me pumps” as she would describe them. The entire outfit clashed and gave the distinct impression she was a street walker.

The girls had been told to apply heavy makeup, straighten their hair and hustle into the back of the truck.

“Can you two ride back here on all fours without me tying you down?” Bill asked patronizing his wife and daughter, as he loaded them into the back of the truck.

They both nodded, and he slapped Wendy’s ass.

“Yes Sir!”

Before he could slap Jamie’s pert ass she answered “Yes Sir” like her mother had.

Bill fired up the truck and headed to the nearest Best Buy electronics store. He and his son were talking in the front seat and Jamie and Wendy were getting blasted by wind in the back of Bill’s black Ford Ranger pickup.

The girls could only talk to one another when he slowed down at a red light.

“Well Ass Face, this is another fine mess you got us into.” Wendy smirked quoting an old line from Laurel and Hardy.

“Hey, at least I am not Cow Tits!” Jamie responded with a laugh. She didn’t get the reference to Laurel and Hardy her mom was making, but it sounded cute to her anyway. She understood her mom wasn’t really blaming her for the mess they were in, at least she hoped not.

Wendy pretended to be hurt by her barb, but she knew it was meant to commiserate that the two of them were in this together.

“If they make a movie about us, instead of Thelma and Louise Part Two, they can call it “Ass Face and Cow Tits”. Wendy had a silly expression on her face.

She wished to herself that the pet names had more thought behind them. She wanted there to have been a deeper meaning. The pet names had been picked spontaneously, which in its own way only deepened Wendy’s humiliation and plummeting self-esteem instead of having been chosen carefully and with some lesson to be learned.

She smiled to herself as she turned that thought around in her head, realizing no matter what name was chosen it would probably sound horribly offensive.

“I knew you had been sucking dicks.” Jamie said after a long pause. Her blue eyes unwavering as she stared at her mother, studying her reaction to that.

“Yes, I knew you knew.” Wendy’s wintry smile implying that she had accepted she couldn’t keep that secret out. “Your father knows making me share myself with others is hard for me. I’ve been stingy with my time, my affection, my attention to even my family. I think on some level, he just wants me to realize that.”

“You don’t think it is just that he gets off on having you lick a bag of dicks?”

“A bag of dicks?” Wendy was shocked at her daughter’s question.

“Sorry, it’s an expression Chris keeps using. You know what I mean, sucking a lot of dicks.”

“Actually, I get it.” Wendy admitted. “I’ve been catching myself using his colorful speech too.” She grinned. It was her turn to get serious “Had you never gone down on anyone before today?”

Jamie looked hurt by the comment. This wasn’t the playful back and forth of two girls commiserating their shared miserable situation. “Why would I lie about that?”

“It’s just that Chris has sent you on dates. I just wondered if that didn’t come up?”

“Yes, it came up. That and a lot more. Chris had made it clear what my dates were paying for.” Jamie’s tone was forgiving of her mother’s question. Jamie could understand why her mother asked.

“Last night at the fair, he made me suck Gerald off.” Wendy admitted.

“What?” Jamie’s face lit up with an excited surprise. “When could that have happened?”

“When he was walking me around the midway. We ran into Gerald, and he took me into the port-a-potty.” Wendy admitted.

“Gross! Oh my God, Mom, that is SO nasty!”

Wendy could only make a face that seemed to say “So it was” because the truck sped up and they were once again blasted with wind and had to hold their heads down as they maintained their position in the back of the truck.

Every now and then a trucker would ‘toot-toot’ their horn when they pulled alongside the truck and could see the girls from high above. The girls smiled and waved and without exception every trucker seemed pleased with their response and didn’t seem to question why two girls would be kneeling in the back of a truck dressed like complete sluts.

The Best Buy near their house is like all of the chain outlets across the country, a vast blue and grey building with glass paned windows in the front harkening the modern shopper to stare at the latest HDMI Television screens or must-have gadget and gizmo. Tablets, Phones, Computers, Stereos, Appliances, Cameras, just about anything you could plug into a wall, they sell it.

There was always a fairly brisk amount of customers coming to the store at all hours of the day. The side of town the Taylor’s lived on afforded most people with the disposable income to purchase the technology that bettered their lives.

“What do you think they want here?” Wendy asked her daughter while Bill was looking for a parking space.

“What do they sell that they could torture us with?” Jamie joked.

“Maybe those bug zappers, hook it up somehow.” Wendy laughed at the mental image of one of the blue sparks bzzzting out of the lantern shaped zappers and striking her on her ass.

“I am glad you have a sense of humor about this, Jamie. If not for you, I think I would have freaked out a long time ago.”

“The name is Ass Face.” Jamie said with a wry expression. “I think you are strong enough, brave enough you could do anything you set your mind too. We have about a week left of it. We are half finished. If we stay positive, and try to find the humor in it, I think we’ll do just fine.”

“Something you can tell your grandchildren about, huh?” Wendy laughed painting a new mental image of Jamie in her mind- Jamie as a granny sitting in a rocking chair telling small children, “Back in my day, we spent two weeks as slaves to keep this family together.”

“Are you going to take them up on the half time show thing?” Wendy asked as Bill honked his horn at someone who just stole his parking space.

“I don’t know. I think they think I’ve already accepted it. I was looking at you for some sign of what I should do. Why didn’t you give me a nod if I should or shouldn’t?”

“Your dad would have shoved the remote control up my ass!” Wendy exaggerated, but she suspected his reaction would have been almost as unpleasant. “He would not let me have any authority over you. I can’t tell you what to do.”

“I know that, what I mean is you can advise me right? When I need guidance?”

“I think you already know what you want to do, Jamie. If you want to quit cheer leading, you basically have two choices. You can do it quietly and safely. They will think of something else humiliating for us to do tonight and then at the end of training, you have the option to salvage your personal life. It will be waiting for you. You may be able to find some balance between all the things you do at school, and home that works for you.”

Wendy thought that option sounded best. Wendy isn’t the kind of person to only look at one side of the coin so she felt compelled to give the other side fair representation. “If you go through with it, it will amuse your father and brother and probably a lot of the people in the stands. You’ll be 8 stars closer to getting out of this, which is by my calculations more than a full day of extra credit it knocks off your time serving. The downside is there will be no going back to your popular status I think. You’ll have committed social suicide.”

“Plus if I get kicked out of school, Dad says he would treat me like Rosco.” Jamie was genuinely worried about the possibility of that even though she struggled with imagining how that would work.

“There is that.” Wendy tried to sound reassuring. “Tomorrow is Saturday, and they’ll have the entire weekend to make our lives a hell. You remember last weekend when we first started this? They have had five days to think of new torments to subject us too. The corrections? You have to go to Mrs. Waxerman’s house. Compared to that, being in our backyard is going to be fun times.”

“Yeah, that was pretty rotten luck drawing the Waxerman Lawn Challenge. It makes it even scarier they named all of the cards in the bowl!” 

“You have the get out of punishment free card, you should probably use it.” Wendy could tell the truck was pulling into a parking space.

“And miss out on bonus points?” Jamie quipped optimistically as the truck stopped. It was obvious Jamie's “I must do all extra-credit assignments' in school was bleeding over into the training. Her mom couldn't be sure if Jamie was kidding or if she was really looking forward to the chance at the bonus stars. Moments later Bill and Chris emerged from within the truck.

Bill opened the gate on the back of the truck, “C’mon, get out little doggies.”

“Do we need to cuff you bitches?” Chris asked as his mother and sister stepped out and on to the parking lot.

“No sir, we will look but not touch.” Wendy promptly responded.

The family browsed down the aisles of the store, it was clear Bill had an agenda. He was buying a new computer, monitor, and all the extra components to set up a network in his house.

“You two bitches, put your hands where we can see them. You will both push the cart.” Wendy and Jamie were instructed to keep both hands on the cart at all times. Bill would order them  to load an item into the cart when he saw something catch his eye. He delighted in seeing them pick it up by bending at the waist. His wife had received several stares from people but no one said anything to them.

Best Buy is a very sobering place. Even with all the hustle and bustle of customers, the lighting and airy show room make people very aware of their surroundings. When someone is there who doesn’t seem to ‘fit in’ it is very noticeable.

Unlike at the fair when the two were dressed in impossibly small matching Pokémon character outfits, here Wendy and Jamie stood out like a sore thumb. They noticed mostly the glares from other women. They also registered the leering gazes of perverted old men. Some were discrete about it, while others eye-raped them to the point it was obvious they were following them around the store.

No one approached them and actually talked to the family. That is besides the blue-shirted sales people with their incessant “Can I help you find anything?”

Bill would just dismiss them. He was in a hurry, but he made a mental note at the girls discomfort. “I’ll have to come back here.”

“Why is that, Sir?” Wendy asked casually. The discipline was loose enough now that they were shopping that they could all talk freely.

“Let you and Ass Face wrap those lips around a member of the geek squad’s dick. Maybe I could get a discount or something.” Bill said dismissively as if that had been obvious.

Wendy wanted to make sure there was enough money on the credit card. She had to bite her tongue several times as they bought computer games and network cables, and a new camera. “The old one is 8 megapixels, this one is 10 megapixels, that is two more megapixels.” Bill explained to no one in particular, apparently justifying the purchase to himself.

“Are you two cunts ready for a little ‘cunt stunt’ as a warm up to tonight’s half-time show?” Chris said to his mother and sister not taking care to keep his voice down. Bill seemed a little disturbed at the interruption to his shopping. He had other places he wanted to be, but he kept his objections to himself. After all, the girls were as much his son’s as they were his, he told himself.

“I will award you three H letters a piece. All you have to do is walk around this carousel of digital cameras and snap a shot of your twat on the internal memory on every one of them on the display carousel.

The girls looked at one another to gauge each other’s interest in doing the dare. Jamie was still on the fence about doing the half-time ‘cunt stunt’ as her brother coined the term. She asked “I am sorry, what are the H’s for again Sir?”

“You two pigs don’t listen when we are talking, that is going to be your downfall,” Bill explained for his son, “Acceptance and participation in both humiliation dares, and living a life that recognizes and encourages your humility. The 'H' is for humiliation. This should be an easy one.”

Wendy picked up a small camera gingerly. It was on a metal ‘leash’ so that it couldn’t be removed from the stand of display cameras. She looked around the store as if she were about to stuff the camera under her skirt to steal it and she wanted to make sure no one was watching. When she was sure no one was directly watching her, she pulled it down as far as she could (having to stand on tip toes) and snapped a shot.

“Your turn, Ass Face.” She grinned at her daughter as she handed her the camera.

Jamie took it from her mother with some false bravado. She repeated the same look around the immediate area and with some effort to position herself so that she could get the camera under herself, snapped a photo and replaced it on the stand.

After the first three cameras, the girls were actually giggling conspiratorially with one another. This was a ‘fun dare’, which was a little naughty and exciting. They were probably feeling the same adrenalin rush that people get from shoplifting something they don’t need.

Bill and Chris smiled. There was little chance anyone would go back through the test shots people took with the camera and see these pictures. It is possible if they did, all they would see is a black, shaky image that barely seems like an up skirt shot at all. Chris liked to picture the look on someone’s face wondering if it was a pussy or the inside of someone’s mouth.

Chris even wandered off for a few moments to look at Wii games. He briefly considered how fun it would be to watch the girls jumping around to Wii Sports, and brought it back to the cart. His dad didn’t think twice, he just nodded his approval it should the game console and a few games should be added to the cart. He was absorbed in watching the spectacle the girls were making of themselves as they made their way around the display stand.

The part that was most amusing to Bill and Chris was that the women were actually laughing as they went from camera to camera playfully. There was that and the occasional customer who saw what they were doing and laughed or watched the hijinks.

That is until a sales person in the customary blue polo shirt and khakis walked up. “Hi, can I help you find what you need?” The pimple faced teenager said. His name tag read “Dalton”

“I am sorry, Sir. I don’t think you can.” Wendy could barely keep a straight face as she answered him. She was still on an adrenalin high over the absurdity of letting loose and playing the slut in such a mundane and ordinary store.

“Okay, it’s just that we had a few customers say that.” The young boy paused to think about what he would say next. “They said there was some shenanigans here.”

“We were just trying out the cameras, Sir”. Wendy spoke for them both.

The young man didn’t fall for her innocent act. Wendy hadn’t tried very hard to hide it, probably in part because the young man didn’t seem very imposing and seemed to be intimidated by them.

“I am afraid you have to come with me, back to the um, Office. We suspect that you may be shoplifting.”

Wendy and Jamie looked at Bill and Chris as if they were on a dance floor and someone had just pulled the needle off of a record.

“No Sir, we haven’t stolen anything. Where would we put it?” Wendy motioned with her hands at her skimpy outfit to accentuate her point. The humor of the moment passed and now she was quite serious.

“I was told to take you to the back, and await the police. You were flashing in our store and we suspect shoplifting. I didn’t want to say anything about the flashing because I didn’t want to alert the other customers.” He indicated  to Bill and Chris who were watching the confrontation.

“They are with us, Sir. They can vouch for us.” Wendy looked at Bill and Chris for support, but the two just grinned with arms folded. They were letting Wendy sweat it out. Her heart was racing. Why would they let her twist in the wind and not help? She wondered to herself.

Bill walked over casually to the young man once he had heard enough. He decided to explain this was all in fun, and to ask to cut them some slack. He assumed he could just intimidate or talk  reason and bluff the family out of the pickle they were in. “Look, let’s let the matter drop. They were just having a little fun. They can’t help themselves, they try to show their snatch wherever they go. What is a guy to do?” Bill shrugged as if he were helpless to change that.

“I got this, Dad.” Chris spoke up, interrupting his father’s explanation. “Listen, I assume none of your supervisors know about this, because if they did, they would have come over here themselves?”

The young man nodded at Chris. He was half his size but probably the same age.

“Alright, tell you what. Let’s make everyone happy. I assume there is some place private in the back? Pick either one of them, and if you will overlook the matter, she’ll suck your dick. We’ll stay here and erase the cameras. Do we have a deal, Bro?” He put out his hand to shake on it as if the matter were already decided.

Wendy, Bill and Jamie were in shock that Chris had just bluntly made that offer.

“Well now that you mention it, my buddy Reginald sent me over here. He is the one who told me to tell the cops. Let me go get him. Wait right here?”

The young man hustled into the computer department to talk to a tall black guy standing by the cash register.

“Okay, let’s just haul ass out of here. I don’t want the cops being involved.” Bill suggested, noting how naïve the young man had been to walk away and leave them unattended.

“If we make a break for it, they’ll stop us at the door before we can make it out of this giant store. I think he’ll go for my offer. You girls don’t mind taking one for the team and sucking a cock to keep us all out of trouble do you?”

The Taylor women were legitimately scared. “Sir, if I am late for my game, I may not be permitted in the half-time show?” Jamie muttered red-faced. She wanted to be anywhere but where she was right now.

“So you are sure you are going to do the half-time cunt stunt?”

“Yes Sir, I made up my mind. I will give it the ‘old college try’”. Jamie used her mom’s catchphrase. She shifted nervously, watching Dalton talk to Reginald at the cash register. They were looking back at the Taylor’s so any attempt at escape would have been noticed right away just like Chris said.

“Well, I am proud of you.” Chris said as if he were talking to a small child. “You don’t mind the consequences if you get suspended and that impresses me.”

Jamie remembered the consequences of getting suspended, but she decided to put that surreal scenario out of her mind and smiled.

“From this point on, if you are late and can’t get in the game you still get the three stars I promised for trying but not being able to do it. Relax. If you spend a night in jail, it will be better than doing what I have planned for you. We are the ones who will lose out on the money I will be making tonight from renting you both out. We should be the ones boo-hooing”. Chris’s tone was cavalier as if he saw this possible arrest as a trifling inconvenience, nothing more.

Dalton and Reginald walked over to where the family was standing in the Camera section. “I understand you are willing to settle this matter privately?”  Reginald asked directly of Wendy. Reginald was very handsome and light skinned for a black guy, giving the impression he was probably of mixed origin.

“Yes Sir” She was surprised the sales agents didn’t focus on her daughter.  Jamie was obviously closer to their age and much prettier. They were talking to her, which was flattering on one level. It helped her resign herself to doing whatever she had to do in the back to get everyone out of their current situation.

Reginald said “I wish I could, but store policy is that really we have to report it.” He looked Wendy up and down. “I don’t think I’d want to pat you down for possible shoplifting, anyway.” His confident grin implying he knew that he couldn’t do it without getting aroused.

“Hop up and down to show them you have nothing in your skirt or top.” Chris ordered as an appeasement to Reginald. “He doesn’t want to rub his hands all over you, he doesn’t know where you been. I don’t blame him.” He laughed.

Wendy and Jamie stared in disbelief at Chris for a full instant. How could he possibly expect them to do something so over the top, especially considering the charge was really indecent exposure. Then they looked at Reginald and Dalton to see their reaction.

Reginald had a sardonic grin on his face and his arms folded, while Dalton looked around nervously shaking his head not to jump around. “I think maybe that is the reason we had to stop them. If they dance around in the show room that could be problematic.” The geekier kid explained.

“I just saw some teenage girls on your Xbox Kinect playing ‘Dance Central’, they were jiggling and shaking and no one said a word. Sure, some perverts watched the young girls dance around.” He pointed to the video game console with installed web camera that inserts the player directly on screen and grades them on how well they dance. “You can’t tell me even you guys don’t watch hot young things playing that game?”

Chris’s negotiation and reason abilities were very uncharacteristic for him. He had shown the night before at Mikey’s tattoo parlor and family meetings the ability to reason, but that was with his own family. This was a whole new level of taking control of a situation that the family had never seen.

Dalton and Reginald looked at each other when he suggested they watch pretty girls play the dance games on the display console as if someone had just discovered a secret of theirs.

“So let them play a game of Dance Central, and if nothing pops out, you will let us go.” Chris offered.

“The problem is, I think something WILL pop out.” Dalton looked at Wendy’s top to imply her boobs might be what pops out.

“And it would be the first time someone played that game in the store and something popped out on accident?” Chris folded his arms.

“Good point, yes that does happen more frequently than you would imagine - one of the few bennies of working in this place. You had said something about a blow-job though?” Reginald asked without reservation moving to the topic of what he really wanted.

“Well, We are in a hurry and since there are two of you. Do you have a place more private?”

Wendy and Jamie felt powerless to offer anything in this discussion about what to do. They listened to Chris speak on their behalf, both of them turning red with embarrassment.

Bill stood next to his son, concerned with where this was going. If not for Chris’s confident responses, he felt he would step in and talk. It seemed like Chris knew what he was doing and Bill had to admit, he liked where things were going even if talk of calling law enforcement made him nervous.

“Actually yes. I know just the spot.” Reginald said with a smile. He took Wendy and Jamie by the hand and began to lead them away. “Ladies, will you come with me?”

“You can search them, If you find an SD card though in my sister’s butt crack, I brought that in with me.” Chris laughed at his own joke as he waved them goodbye.

“This is your sister?” Reginald looked appraisingly at Wendy as they were escorted to the back of the store. Wendy barely registered the compliment that anyone could think she was young enough to be Chris’s sister.

“No, the blonde one is my Sister. That one is my Mom.” Chris clarified about who his mother was in relation to him.

Reginald stopped and looked back at Bill and Chris to reassure himself. “You are cool with this?”

“Dad, do you want me to go with them to make sure they ONLY suck their dicks, while you pay at the register? We can meet you at the car?” Chris making it sound like his mother and sister would try to do more with the strange boys only added to their humiliation.

“That is your Dad?” Reginald couldn’t believe how bizarre this was turning out to be. “Yeah, you can come with us.”

Bill was confused. He was still wondering, how his son managed to get two Best Buy employees to agree to this outrageous situation of strip-searching his wife. He wondered if they could get fired if anyone found out. The power of the promise of a blowjob is not to be trifled with, he laughed under his breath.

“You seem to have this in hand son, can you be back in less than fifteen?” He tried to hide his concerns. He was also struggling with the fact that despite his many speeches about impulse buys, a lot of this stuff he had picked out he didn't really need. He shrugged as he told himself 'I am the King of the Castle, and my Castle needs new stuff. What is the point in handling the money if I can't get what I want?' Bill was already on his way to the cashier, leaving the matter of his wife and daughter completely to his son.

“If they suck dick like earlier today, probably be done in ten minutes.” Chris assured his father as he caught up with the salesmen and his mom and sister walking towards the back of the store.

“Mom, you know stealing is wrong, don’t you?”

“Yes Sir” she answered her son nervously.

“So you agree that if an employee suspects someone stole from the store, they have a duty to make sure no merchandise is lost?”

“Yes Sir, I see that.” She knew that this wasn’t the appropriate procedure. She also knew her son was toying with her for the benefit of the two guys leading them into the storage warehouse so she played along.

The warehouse was a wide open, dark place, stark in contrast to the well-lit and airy showroom. There were several people here working. “Surely, not here Sir?” Wendy asked her son, realizing he was more in control of the situation than Reginald.

“Did you want them to suck everyone’s dick back here, or just yours?” Chris asked Reginald and Dalton.

“Hah, that would be a trip. Your dad said fifteen minutes. We know a more secluded spot.” Reginald said calmly guiding the girls towards the back of the warehouse.

“Nope not back here.” Chris answered his mom’s concern about doing whatever they were going to do in the warehouse. “..And don’t call me Shirley”.

Guys working in the back moving packages around watched the party advance through the warehouse. It was very unusual for any customers to be back here, especially ones dressed so proactively. Jamie and Wendy could feel all eyes on them as butterflies began stirring in their stomach.

“Blowjob or not, you know if we find merchandise on them, we have to turn them in?” Reginald asked of Chris.

“Yeah, that seems fair. I am sure you will find the girls have no problem being put in handcuffs if they get arrested, do you?”

“Yes sir, we are used to it.” Wendy answered. She couldn’t believe the burning sensation and feeling of betrayal she had at Chris’s hands. She wondered why he wasn’t doing more to get them out of this predicament. He was so casual as if this walk of shame to the back of the store were completely routine.

“Get caught a lot for shoplifting?” Dalton’s question sounded serious to the girls.

“No, this would be the first time.” Jamie answered him. “When we are usually cuffed, it is so that we can’t get into any mischief.” Jamie was talking about some of the talks she had with her brother about why he handcuffed her in the mornings, so that he could keep an eye on her.

“Not get into as MUCH mischief”. Chris corrected.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Jamie found herself smirking at that distinction.

“You sluts are in deep shit. I hope you will be thanking me and these guys when this is all over for keeping management and the cops out of it?”

Wendy didn’t want to agree with her son. She had been quiet as they walked through the vast warehouse of row after row of cardboard boxes stacked on high. She thought to herself about how the dare had started off simple and how it even seemed fun on a certain level. Minutes later she is supposed to be thankful she and her daughter are being marched to some private security room for who knows what?

“Yes Sir, I guess we are getting off easy.” Jamie answered for the two of them, with a worried look that told her mom she may be thinking the very same thing she was.

The Family Feud III

Chapter Twenty-Six
“I don’t always name my chapters, but when I do, I name them Dos Equis”

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 36
Get out of jail cards: 1
WHORE: 1,3,1,0,0
JAMIE: 39
Get out of jail cards: 1
WHORE: 1,3,1,0,0

They came out of the backdoor into the service drive behind the store. They were clearly not going to a private security room. This only made the girls more nervous.

“We come back here to spark one up every day around 4:20. No one will find us back here.” Reginald said confidently. They walked the girls over to a dumpster that was surrounded on three sides by concrete walls. There were broken down, flattened cardboard boxes everywhere.

Ironically, as if fate were conspiring to prove him wrong, there was a homeless man laying with his back to the wall, resting on a pallet of cardboard. He looked like a twin brother to ‘Uncle Creepy’ in the face except for the bedraggled, gray unkempt beard. He wore dirty disheveled clothes most of which probably came from an Army/Navy surplus store, and what appeared to be all his worldly possessions in an old backpack.

“Step off Weird Larry!” Reginald yelled threateningly. The old man started to leave immediately. It was obvious he loitered here regularly and was used to being chased away by the store employees.

“He can stay if he wants. He was here first.” Chris suggested diplomatically. This surprised everyone including Weird Larry. “You don’t mind watching these two women get strip searched and suck these guys dicks do you, Larry?”

“Don’t play with my head, boy. I served in ‘Nam, I am a Veteran.”

“No you aren’t.” Reginald said dismissively.

“No, I am not.” Weird Larry agreed. “But I KNEW an awful lot of veterans!” he added as if that made any difference.

Whether it was intended to be light hearted or not, his comment actually added a little levity to what felt like a very serious situation to Wendy and Jamie.

They were surrounded by the guys, standing awkwardly while they wondered what would happen next.

“You can step out of those clothes, so they can search you.” Chris hurried them along with his order. Wendy and Jamie were by now used to undressing quickly. They also weren’t wearing much to begin with. They wriggled out of their skirts revealing they had nothing on underneath. Then they popped their tops, standing completely naked in broad daylight inside the dumpster enclosure.

“Shoes too Sir?” Wendy asked holding the tiny amount of cloth that had constituted her outfit only moments earlier.

“Fellas, you want to check their shoes?” Chris asked tearing the outfit out of his mother’s hands. He grabbed Jamie’s as well and handed it to the Best Buy employees. “Have a look, I don’t think there are any pockets but you can never be too sure. Electronics are made extra small these days.”

“No, the shoes can stay on. I really didn’t think they were seriously going to get naked.” Dalton drank in the lewdness of the two lithe bodies completely devoid of body hair, and exposed in front of him.

“How else can you search them?” Chris asked seriously. “Ladies, position two.”

Wendy thought her heart was going to beat out of her chest. This situation made her feel even more vulnerable than past ones she had been in, because Bill wasn’t here. She remembered when Bill had cuffed her to a dumpster last weekend. Knowing that he was nearby had given her more confidence that things wouldn’t go so horribly wrong. She wished she had more faith in Chris. She wondered if maybe she had been just as afraid when Bill had her in the same predicament. Could it be that a week and the benefit of hindsight had made her look at it differently.

Wendy and her daughter turned to face Chris, and bent at the waist. They put their hands behind them and pulled their ass cheeks apart with their fingers while bending at the knees.

“Sick!!” Dalton laughed hysterically. Wendy wasn’t sure if that meant he thought their asses were disgusting or he was impressed. His tone suggested the latter.

“It was like they are choreographed, they moved together at the exact same time.” Dalton commented.

“Well they had a lot of practice this past week.” Chris was proud of the training he had given his mom and sister, and willing to take credit for the accidental synchronicity of his slut’s movements.

“You going to rape those girls?” Weird Larry was concerned. His voice was a mixture of hard booze, phlegm and cigarette smoke all rolled into one gravelly throat.

“Shut up, Larry. We are searching them, they are shoplifters.” Reginald warned the homeless man.

“Hah Hah Hah-Hack-Hack” Larry’s laughter dove-tailed into a coughing fit. “Any idjut knows you don’t take shoplifters out to the dumpster and strip them. Hey, I won’t say nothing, I am just asking.”

“Chris, are we supposed to put our fingers into their butt or something?” Dalton ignored Weird Larry to ask as he stared at the twin tattooed asses in front of him.

“Dammit, you weren’t supposed to tell them you knew me.” Chris chided his friend for spoiling his fun.

“You planned this, Sir?” Wendy asked looking straight up at her son, but remaining bent over and with her hands pulling her cheeks wide apart.

“No, not really. I saw Dalton was working and I asked him to set this up while you were busy taking pictures at the cameras. Why, you mad?” Chris asked his question in an amused voice.

“No, not mad sir. I am Just a little confused.” Wendy wasn’t sure what she was feeling. She did have a feeling of betrayal of her trust. She had come outside on the pretense of avoiding the authorities. She knew she would have to serve him anyway, so she wasn’t sure why he was playing mind games with them.

“Well look, you agreed to do a simple little dare for three of the letter H. Why would I give you so much for one dare? I assumed you knew there had to be more to it than that. Don’t worry though, I am going to give you each a W for sucking my friend’s dicks as well.”

Jamie and Wendy were still confused by his explanation. They couldn’t see Reginald and Dalton as they were standing behind the girls looking at their wet pussies and pink asses listening to them talk.

“I assumed Jamie would recognize Dalton. He is in your English class, but you seemed to fall for the idea he was in charge of security at Best Buy. Look at him, who would put him in charge of anything? You think a crook would be scared of Dalton?”

Jamie suddenly did remember him. “I guess with the Best Buy uniform on, I didn’t realize.” She tried to cover up the embarrassment of not recognizing a classmate. He was quite ordinary, the kind of innocuous student who just hangs out in the background never standing out from the crowd.

“I bet you never noticed me, you are always fawning over Mr. Young.” Mentioning her English Teacher made Jamie involuntarily wet at the mental image of him and the safety that would be afforded being held in his strong arms. She tried to control her thoughts but her mind simply wandered to Bradley Jenkins.

“Silly girl” she thought to herself, disgusted with where her mind was wandering. The next thought that popped into her head was the fact that only hours ago she had never sucked a cock and now only hours later she is sucking dick next to her mom by a dumpster. Jamie decided it might be best to stop thinking entirely for a bit and just listen. She was thankful to have developed the skill to act brainless as a cheerleader.

“So we were never in any danger of going to jail, Sir?” Wendy wanted clarification.

“I doubt it. From where we are standing, it doesn’t look like you stole anything.” Reginald said smoothly.

“We really do have to go, do you guys want to inspect them, or go ahead and get your dick sucked right now?”

Reginald said “Hell Yeah” and his friend Dalton seemed a little more shy about it. They both walked around to the front.

“You really don’t mind this?” Dalton confirmed with Jamie. “I know you have been acting super slutty at school lately, but I kind of feel guilty that we tricked you two into coming out here.”

“They would have sucked your dicks, even if they didn’t think their asses would be in trouble, wouldn’t you Jamie?”

“Yes Sir, for a “W”.

“I got to ask, what the fuck is a ‘W’?” Reginald asked.

“W for Winning, Duh.” Chris’s Charlie Sheen reference/explanation made Jamie spit-laugh. She had only recently been thinking about the actor’s famous catch phrase herself.

Jamie was the first to take initiative to remove all doubt that she was willing. She unzipped Dalton’s pants and reached into his underwear to pull out his cock. It was already hard. Wendy did the same for Reginald.

“Damn, you think you can train my cousin like this?” Reginald said with pleasure as he felt Wendy’s lips wrap around his black dick and begin to suck.

“Send her over to my house. If she has any talent, I guarantee it.” Chris answered with pride.

“Damn, she got a fine ass.” Reginald bent over Wendy’s back so that he could rub her ass cheeks and massage them. He was vigorously breathing in and saying, “Dayum, that’s good.”

Wendy no longer felt like a street whore who had just stripped for two teenagers, her son and a homeless man with her daughter to give a blowjob. Surprisingly, she felt wanted and needed by Reginald's encouragement. She kissed the tip of his cock and then slurped it into her mouth.

“Permission to remove my hands from my ass, so I can stroke him, Sir?” she asked her son

“You want her to use her hands?” Chris asked Reginald.

“Sure, what-ever” Reginald answered on a wave of aroused ecstasy.  Wendy used her hands to steady his dick and massage his balls squeezing them just a little. They weren’t tight, which Wendy took as a sign he would cum a lot and soon. She let him sense the warmth and texture of her tongue while trying to develop some anticipation in him.

“What about you Dalton, you want my sister to use her hands?”

Dalton was quietly in his own little heaven. “What she is doing is JUST fine.” Jamie was bobbing his cock like a mama bird desperate to pull a worm from a hole, only able to pull with her beak.

“Good, Weird Larry, you enjoying the view back there?” Chris was playing ring master to the spectacle and feeling a little horny himself.

“Well, now I can only see one pussy so good.” Larry answered as if he were disappointed with his view. His voice only reinforced to both women that they had a homeless man staring at their naked asses from behind deepening their shame and humiliation.

Dalton was surprised “Is that Bubble Pop you are humming?” he asked of his cocksucker.

She only nodded, flashing her bright eyes at him.

“That song just came out!” He seemed impressed

“Will you shut the fuck up. You can talk about music later.” Reginald warned his friend. The chatter was interfering with the world-class blowjob he was getting. Wendy was swirling her tongue and out of the corner of her eye watching her daughter’s head bob up and down without mercy on Dalton’s cock.

She thought she would feel sympathy or want to lament the loss of her daughter’s innocence. Instead, she had an unexpected competitive feeling wash over her. She wanted to feel pity for Jamie, but she could only think about finishing first and giving a better blowjob than her daughter. She began to throat his dick, taking its full measure but matching her daughter’s pace.

“Like two chickens picking at corn.” Weird Larry observed with amusement. No one paid him any attention, and he quietly touched himself. 'Fap-fap-fap' as he watched the two attractive and naked strangers bob up and down on Best Buy's Geek Squad.

Dalton was the first to explode as he winced and cried out in ecstasy. He balled his fist in the air and pulled out, spurting his cum all over Jamie’s lips.

Wendy was only slightly disappointed because as if by the same cosmic force that causes their periods to be in synch, Reginald blew his load as well.

“Sweet Jesus, almighty, free at last, my people are free at last.” He didn’t pull out, he thrust deeper into Wendy’s throat causing her to gag and almost throw up. After holding her tightly, every muscle in his body clenched as he spurted down her throat as he finally released.

The two boys wasted no time zipping their pants having no desire to see each other’s cock.

“Wow, fuck! That was amazing. You think they can come back again and ‘get caught shoplifting’?” Dalton asked.

“The first one is free, the next one we can arrange, but it may cost you. Let me give you my business card.” Chris handed him a card with his cell phone and the words Pimp extraordinaire’ underneath his name.

“What are you two sluts waiting for? Kiss the cum off Jamie’s face so we can get back to where Dad is.” Chris demanded of his mom.

“May I swarrow?” she held her mouth open. She was so used to the routine of Steve requiring her to wait for permission to swallow and get a picture of it that it had become a habit - A habit that pleased Chris.

“I don’t know. Do you want to swarrow?” Chris asked mocking his mother’s inability to talk with her mouthful.

“Yeff Sir.” Tiny bubbles of cum could be seen dancing on her tongue. Reginald and Dalton now dressed and composed were willing to wait to see what happens next.

“Why?” Chris and the other guys were laughing as they watched Wendy’s face. She looked so obscene fully naked and bent at the waist with her piercings glinting in the sun and her whore tattoo. Add to that the image, what looks like someone with white, creamy peanut butter stuck to their lips, Chris couldn’t help himself. He snapped several cell phone pictures.

“I am a Cum Gobrrer, Sir.” Wendy’s tries to say ‘Gobbler’ only increased the tittering laughter.

“Is your daughter a Cum Gobrrer?” Chris snapped another photo of Jamie with clear white cum that looked like snot on her lips and nose in the same position as her mom, only her hands behind her peeling her ass cheeks apart.

“Yeff Sir, we are boaff Cum Gobrrerrrs.” Wendy wasn’t sure how long she could hold it in without it all evaporating into her saliva. Steve had once waited ten minutes and she was punished because there was none left when he finally gave her permission to swallow.

“Then don’t you think it is pretty greedy of you not to want to share it with your daughter?” Chris asked in a condescending tone while he toyed with his mother’s agony. He could sense the dagger shooting down her spine of total shame as she answered him once again in the affirmative.

“I don’t believe you. I think you are a greedy slut who wants as much cum as you can get. Pass half of it to Ass Face.”

Wendy wasn’t sure what he meant. She looked at him her, face writhing in shame, her eyes like a dam about to burst into tears.

Chris grabbed her wrist and bent it backwards, pivoting her by the arm to face her daughter while bent over. He shoved her head next to hers. “Pass half of that cum into her mouth, don’t spill a drop, or you WILL clean it off the pavement. I don’t care if this is a dumpster. Cum is too precious for you to waste. It comes from men, your betters in every way.”

Wendy had almost reached another mental breakdown. She had suffered so many extreme degradations this week and now she would have to kiss the cum of a stranger into her daughter’s mouth while they all laughed. She could feel herself getting sick as her throat muscles constricted from the workout they had just been given and the fear and shame she was feeling.

“Don’t you see, your tears give me joy.” Chris dabbed one of the tears forming in the corner of her eyes and put it to his lips “Salty.” He said with a smile.

The guys were starting to distance themselves from this spectacle now that the darker more brutal side of the discipline was revealed. Reginald and Dalton also finally noticed the crop marks on their tits and asses, now that they were no longer under the spell of their own horny desires.

Jamie opened her mouth and licked her lips, and gave her mom a reassuring wink. “Please Mom, will you share that nigger cum with me?” She said in the sweetest, most innocent voice that made you instantly think about fresh strawberries (if she hadn’t said THAT word).

“Oh what did SHE say?” Reginald was angry.

“Repeat yourself for Reginald.” Chris demanded sternly of his sister.

“I am sorry Sir if it offended you. I am being taught to speak in the most vulgar way I can, not to sugar coat anything.”

Chris spanked his sister’s ass hard with his hand, causing it to jiggle. She didn’t remove her hands as she absorbed the pain. “I didn’t ask that. I TOLD you to repeat yourself!”

“Please Mom, will you share that nigger cum with me?” Jamie said it this time more aware of how awful that had sounded.

“You racist fucking whore. I am out, man. Fuck that bitch.” Reginald was angry. The very word set him off.

“Please Sir, when my brother started making me call myself a cunt, I felt the same way, I know how you feel. It enraged me. I apologize if I offended you. I didn’t know how it would sound.”

“No you don’t fucking know how I feel. You white bread slut. You think because you let your brother call you cunt you have one idea of how I feel? Chris can I spank that fucking pink ass?”

“Be my guest.”

“Kiss your cracker ass racist daughter, while I spank her fucking ass. I bet you are racist too you fucking whore!” Reginald had dropped his smooth demeanor and shifted into the quintessential “angry black man” with the drop of a hat and all the peer pressure and media growing up to remain virtuous and pure.

Wendy no longer concerned for herself, gave her daughter a passionate kiss on the mouth and passed half of what remained of the cum, in the process getting some of Dalton’s goo on her own face. The two swallowed with their eyes shut and joined at the lips in anticipation of a spanking that never came.

“Hahahah, I am just fucking with you bitches.” Reginald laughed heartily. His laughter brought the tension down from an ‘11’ to a zero. “I didn’t give a fuck if you say nigger, I say it all the time. God damned, though. You all are really for real. White people are a fucking trip, yo.” Reginald dropped into an urban accent amused with how easily had been able to freak the girls out.

“I fucking love white guilt.”

“We are glad you are amused, Sir.” Wendy answered him, no longer kissing but with her nose touching her daughter’s nose. They were staring into each other’s eyes, trying to keep a straight face about the absurdity.

“You are one cruel motherfucker though, Chris. I mean I don’t know how you can do your mama and sister this way. Your cousin, now that I can see.” Reginald’s tone was light hearted, but he wasn’t entirely kidding either.

Chris reached under his sister’s pussy lips, flicked her exposed hood and let it jiggle. He pulled his finger away and held it out. “They are both wet.” He explained.

If Wendy’s dagger had been Chris’s earlier comments, this was Jamie’s turn to feel her shame button get pressed. The idea that she had done all of these things at her brother’s biddings had bothered her to a point. Now that the guys felt she had gotten turned on by it all, she was beside herself with embarrassment.

Her brain told her it should not concern her that they knew she was turned on after what they had just seen her do. Her heart, which was pumping as rapidly as it could, told her differently. She was still struggling with the strange sensations brought on by the clit piercing and how it affected her pleasure receptors even when things were happening that she knew were disgusting and wrong.

She had never really been orgasmic until the night before. Today, she had lost count of the number of times she had cum and all of it was when she was doing something she knew was wrong. She knew she had while she sucked off Dalton.

She had been raised to be a ‘good girl’ and to avoid nasty, disgusting things. She was raised in the era of slogans like “Stranger Danger!” and “No means no!” Abstinence first education and all the peer pressure and media growing up to remain virtuous and pure. The mixed messages provided by the sexy role models who claimed to be pure on the Disney Channel like Miley Cyrus or Brittany Spears yet danced and dressed like street whores. The contradicting messages by the advertisements that reinforce image and sexiness. It could be so confusing.

Add this background to what she was doing now and it confused her senses to accept that the more disgusting and taboo the activity the more it seemed to ring her bell. It made her feel guilty on some level, naughty on another, and confused all at the same time.

“Please don’t tell anyone at school, Sir?” Jamie begged Dalton.

“Why do you care if people know you are my slut, Ass Face?” Chris asked on his behalf while she remained bent at the waist.

“I am sorry Sir, it is my vanity. I still worry about what others think of me.” She answered her brother, her stomach feeling queasy.

“You won’t after the football game tonight. Which reminds me if, we don’t get going we are going to miss. Dad has one other stop to make and we have to drop off Mom. Get dressed, you can stand up.” Chris threw the clothes at his Sister and Mom, letting them hit the ground as he did.

“What is she going to do at the game?”

“Be there at the half-time show to find out.

“Dude, I totally hate to be in suspense. Why won’t you just tell me what is going to happen? Besides I don’t get off until after the game starts.”

“Sucks to be you, you are going to miss my little sister getting off, during the game!”  Chris beamed with pride at his sister while she put on her clothes, noticing she was trembling as she did.

“How many dicks have you sucked today, Sis?” he decided to pile on to her humiliation.

“To completion, Sir?” the very fact Jamie had to ask this question caused Reginald and Dalton to laugh. Jamie was confident and even positive outwardly. Inside she was nervous and disgusted with herself.

“Okay, how many dicks have you had your mouth on today?” Chris acted impatient that she needed clarification but inside he was as amused as the other boys by her answer.

Jamie had to think for a moment while she went through the day’s event “Six, Sir.”

“Dayum, that girl gets around. Should have worn a rubber?” Reginald asked Chris.

“According to her, this is the first day she ever gave head to anybody.” Chris answered as the girls finished pulling on their outfits.

“Shit, that was the first time I ever GOT head from anybody.” Dalton admitted.

“Was she good?”

“I don’t have anyone to compare it too.” He answered truthfully.

Jamie pouted instinctively, without realizing the look on her face was disappointment.

“Oh it was good, good. Don’t get me wrong.” Dalton apologized, reaching out with his hand to wipe a little of his semen off her chin. “You got a little bit there still I think.”

“Don’t apologize to her. The fun thing about them is you don’t have to worry about hurting their feelings. He slapped his mom’s ass hard but playfully. “Or their asses. They never wear out. You can snap a pool cue across this thing and it probably wouldn’t make a dent.”

Wendy wasn’t sure what to say to that, so she just nodded and remained silent.

“If you guys give me a call, They can switch next time.”

“Same scenario where we catch them shoplifting?”

“Could be, although maybe next time I’ll start them on the Dance game. I really wanted to see them dance.” Chris lamented.

They started to walk away from the dumpster leaving behind Weird Larry who had been quietly playing with himself the last few minutes of the conversation. He was still sitting on cardboard with his back against the concrete barrier around the dumpster. 

“Hey, do you want some beer jerky?”

“I don’t think we want anything you’ve been jerkying.” Reginald answered dismissively.

“No, to eat. I don’t have much but I liked the show. Can I share my beer jerky with you?” He waved something that looked like blackened dried beef.

“Go get it, and thank him for it.”

“Which one of us, Sir?” Wendy tried to clarify.

“Don’t care.” He slapped his mom on the ass and she darted out to get it.

“Thank you so much Sir.” She took it gingerly. “Are you sure you want me to have this?” She held the dried slab of meat like it might bite her.

“Yes, yes.” He put the dirty hand he gave it to her with back on his cock as he stroked himself furiously.

“Next time, you are going to take care of weird Larry too.” Chris demanded.

Wendy could smell a foul odor wafting off the disgusting man. She tried to look happy about that and returned to her son.

“I make it with Pabst Blue Ribbon and olive loaf!” He called after them as they walked out of his life as quickly as they had walked in.

“What should I do with this Sir?” Wendy asked as they walked back through the warehouse, now far more familiar with each other’s anatomies then they had been when they passed this way earlier. She quietly prayed he didn’t say “Eat it”. She wondered if sometimes her questions and clarifications only made things worse.

“I don’t give a shit, throw it down.” Chris told his mom. She let out a sigh of relief and held on to it until they past a garbage can near the employee break room.

Once again they were eye-raped by the warehouse workers who noticed that “freshly fucked” look on the girls, their hair was all out of place. They had that ‘Cat that just swallowed the canary/I have a secret face’.

“Can I ask something that has been bothering me?” Dalton asked.

“Sure, anything.” Chris answered.

“No I want to ask them.” He indicated Wendy and Jamie as they walked out of the warehouse. “Why are you doing this?”

It was the $64,000 question by Wendy’s estimation. She could answer a number of ways, depending on where she was at mentally. She had begun with the best of intentions to save the family, give the men a sense of closure and justice for what she had done. They had taken things to a whole level of depravity that she had not even dreamed she was capable of doing and now the reasons to not give up were far more murky.

-There was obviously her positive nature - the one that she had begun this quest with about saving the family and keeping Bill from divorcing her and her son from never forgiving her for enslaving them.

-She didn’t like to quit, and she liked to do her best at everything she tried. She had given her word that she would earn all one hundred stars. She was half way there, giving up now wasn't her style.

-She also knew Jamie would never quit until she got her hundred stars, and she was going to let her do this alone. The men would then give Jamie double the humiliation she was getting instead of spreading it out between them.

-She knew that her husband had a mountain of humiliating clips of her, that he promised he would send to her parents. They had them both read scripts about their willingness to be trained, and say they felt it was the females place to be inferior to men, and how they had always wanted to be kept this way. No one who watched the tapes would believe they were ‘trapped’ into this. The clips would make them look as bad, if not worse than Chris and Bill.

-The Griffins did have the mortgage and a bunch of dirt on her. This was not her most pressing reason, but it was enough to make her want to keep them happy. If only to help the rest of her family.

Then we come to some reasons she had buried and hated to admit to herself.

-She was actually learning some important lessons about herself and her ability to endure hardship. She was learning how to treat other people differently and changing her priorities to focus on things that now seemed far more important than her career and material possessions. She was learning to put other’s needs before hers.

-She was seeing a positive change in the entire family. Not just Bill and Chris growing as leaders, but Jamie was maturing in ways that Wendy still didn’t have a handle on.

-She found herself laughing, smiling, and even through her tears finding some of what was happening to her fun.

This didn’t apply to everything, and she wished there was another word that came to mind besides ‘fun’. In a twisted way, she was having an adventure and through it all, connecting with her family in ways they had never dreamed of.

The sexual aspect of it had been an unfortunate side effect, but what was done was done. She had French kissed a boy’s cum into her daughter’s mouth only moments ago. She could still taste it on her lips. Not only the cum but her daughter’s breath when she opened her mouth to accept it.

There were other reasons just under the surface and some above her subconscious on the question of why she was doing this. Those were the ones that had sprung to her mind when Dalton had asked his question.

She had at least as many reasons to run screaming and get her head examined for continuing with this. Wendy was the kind of person that preferred to dwell on the positive, and if not the positive, the things she had control to change. Right now, they had taken almost all of her control away. She could only work as hard as she could to be a good slut and earn her freedom.

In the moments it must have taken her to mentally note all of these reasons Chris answered for her.

“See this warehouse?” Chris asked rhetorically. “My wonderful sister dropped me off at Baby’s R’Us and gave me to Cathy Griffin.”

Dalton nodded. He knew of her reputation at school as a mean girl, but not of her domination of her friends.

“Not just for a few minutes like I gave them to you. She left me there ALL day.”

“So? You had to work in the warehouse? I work warehouse sometimes, it’s not so bad.” Dalton didn’t understand.

“No, you know how they answer to me? I had to answer to them.” Chris sounded embarrassed as if he were retreating back into his shy turtle shell by reliving in his mind the day with Cathy. “They put a diaper on me, made me moo like a cow, everything I made them do? That was done to me all day.”

“Damn, you sucked a black man’s dick?” Reginald laughed as they escorted the family to the front of the store while finishing the conversation.

“I would have if I had been ordered too!” Chris admitted honestly.

“Ah-hah, you are a homo.”

“I didn’t though, Dalton.” Chris sighed. “No homo.”

“So it’s like the planet of the apes?” Reginald asked.

“What?” Chris replied. He was flustered as he relived the hell that had been his day at Cathy’s hands. Jamie couldn’t help but wonder if it was really worse than her days had been or if Chris was exaggerating. She felt so guilty about it now that she could see it still caused him distress.

“You know, like you are Charlton Heston see? You leave the Earth and come back and everything is different.” Reginald tried to explain his analogy.

“Something like that. My mom used to be the boss of me, like I am of her.”

At the sliding glass door exit, they could see Bill impatiently waiting with his motor running for them to get in the truck.

Dalton asked his final question before letting the family go. “So why did you give up that control over your son, to live like this?”

“Good question, Sir.” She kissed him goodbye on the lips with her mouth closed. “Because Taylor men come first, and Taylor women come second…” she said as they raced into the back of the truck, hopping over the side and disappearing behind the pickup bed walls to get on all fours. They were both shamed and disgusted with themselves, but both had the unmistakable scent of arousal.

“Thank you for the blow jobs!!” Dalton shouted loudly, waving goodbye to the strangest family he had ever met as he watched the truck pull away.

His friend Reginald nudged him in the ribs with his elbow to remind him to keep his voice down. “Dude, white people are crazy” He shook his head as he walked back on to the showroom floor to finish his shift.

The Family Feud III

Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Life is like a cock, just cause it gets hard doesn't mean you're fucked”

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 36
Get out of jail cards: 1
WHORE: 1,3,1,0,0
JAMIE: 39
Get out of jail cards: 1
WHORE: 1,3,1,0,0

The truck finally came to a stop that allowed Wendy and Jamie to talk.

“I think I swallowed a bug back there.” Jamie half-joked with her mom of the wind whipping their faces as they remained on all fours in the back of her father’s pick-up truck.

“That isn’t all we swallowed back there.” Wendy was back in chipper spirits. She had beaten herself up several times about how wicked things had become and whether she should be putting her foot down about boundaries in the last few minutes, but managed to put on a happy face and resign herself to accept things were bad, but they could be worse.

“I thought he was going to make you eat that ‘beer jerky’ back there.” Jamie purposely evaded the topic of the cum swallowing she had just done with her mother.

“I know, oh my god. That looked awful.”

“I almost wish he had made me eat it. I am starving.”

“Be careful what you wish for around here, girly-girl.” Her mom joked with her using a familiar nickname from when Jamie was much younger.

“I am a big girl now, Mom.” Jamie teased. “It’s Ass Face now.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me, Ass Face.” Wendy used the name with a light hearted sarcasm. “Have you had anything besides your lunch?”

“Just cum, a tomato, and a smushed up banana.”

Wendy had packed her lunch according to Bill’s instruction that morning. She felt guilty she had two burgers and decided not to mention it.

“Speaking of cum, how are you holding up about that?”

“God, you say ‘speaking of cum’ like you are bringing up a Sunday brunch invitation, Mom.” Jamie kidded her mom about the casual way she had introduced the topic into conversation.

“You are being evasive, is it bothering you? What we did.” Wendy recognized that same evasiveness in herself. ‘The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree’ she thought to herself.

“Do I need a rape counselor or something, you mean?” Jamie was smiling as she answered as if everything had rolled off her back. Her mom still had doubts. She would have to wait until the next red light to continue the conversation. They were both being buffeted by wind as it sliced through them in the open bed of the truck. Bill was trying to make up for lost time.

They were on a highway, neither girl were sure where they were going. They never looked over the truck sidewalls for fear of someone seeing them in the back of the truck. A group of Mexican migrant workers in the back of another truck coming home from a long day of lawn maintenance waved at them as if they were kindred spirits.

Wendy wondered if the hot sun and sweaty work they had to endure might not be a welcome relief compared to her day. ‘At least it would be honest work’. She thought to herself before once again feeling guilty. She had been in an air conditioned building all day long, and she had no idea what hard labor in the hot sun must really be like. She decided not to tempt fate by deciding it may be easier than her current role.

At the next opportunity to talk, Wendy decided to take another approach with her daughter. “Are you worried, maybe we should ask for condoms?” she quickly blurted out at her daughter.

“To use on Dad and Chris?” she seemed surprised by the suggestion.

“No, but maybe others?”

“Afraid we’ll get mouth pregnant and have a mouth baby?” Jamie teased.

“No, but you know. STDs, could be?” She was stumbling on her words, because she thought Jamie would jump at the idea of a little more insulation between her mouth and the bare flesh of a strange guy’s cock.

“Were you using condoms on the guys you sucked off before today?”

“No honey, I wasn’t.” Wendy felt a little silly when her daughter put things in perspective. “I was thinking about Weird Larry the homeless guy. If Chris had made me suck his dick… who knows where he had been last.” She conceded her daughter's point by bringing up her specific concern.

“I thought the rule was that they can’t make us suck dicks, but if we agree to it, we get a W if we do for others, and an O if we do theirs?”

Wendy nodded, that was probably true. She could have chosen not to pleasure Weird Larry. She wondered though if she would have refused in the heat of the moment back behind Best Buy.

“I read an article once about myths on contraception called ‘Condoms and oral sex.’”

“Let me guess, this was in Cosmo?”

“Yes, Cosmopolitan, how did you know?”

“We share the same bathroom. I read that article too. Well, we shared one, until we were forbidden from actually USING the bathroom.” Jamie’s commiserative tone made her Mom feel better about their shared loss of dignity. It was one of the most personal and private moments available to any woman.

“I think we still share it. Actually, we share it at the same time now.” Wendy teased. The fact her daughter had read the same article took a weight off her mind. The article had compared condoms to wearing a bullet proof helmet to a gunfight. It might protect your head, but the rest of your body was completely exposed.

If the guy cums in your hair, eye, mouth it could possibly get into a cut. Condoms have a tendency to break. The article warned against thinking they were the end-all/be-all of safe sex and made the case that statistically you are more likely to be in a car accident than you are to catch something from a low risk partner through oral sex.

The article compared the bigger risk of getting into a car and not buckling up for a casual drive to burger king to the smaller risk of catching something from oral sex without condoms with a low risk partner.

“Yeah, we kind of have to share everything.” Jamie smiled at her mom as they gazed into each other’s eyes trying to gauge each other’s thoughts.

“What do you think of when you have to kiss me?” Jamie asked.

“Oh, please don’t ask that.” Her mom answered.

“You are being evasive, is it bothering you? What we did.” Jamie asked, using the same question Wendy had asked her at the last stop..

“Okay Ass Face.” Wendy slapped her daughter’s ass playfully to indicate she had made her point. “If Bill or your brother ask me, I guess I would have to say I think about what huge sluts we both are, and I wonder if they are getting turned on watching us kiss.”

“Is that the truthful answer?”

“Why Jamie Taylor? You would think I would be anything less than honest with you after all this?” Wendy smiled and the two let the topic go when as the truck sped up, the wind once again began clobbering them.

The truck pulled into an Arby’s drive-thru.

“Oh my God, what is he doing?” Wendy asked in a panic.

“Don’t freak out, Mom.” Jamie answered calmly. “You make every new challenge sound like it is the end-all-be-all. This is just a drive thru.

“Does your father expect us to stay on all fours in the drive-thru line?” Wendy still looked worried.

“I would imagine so, or else they would have told us to do something else?” Jamie seemed stoic about their fate, trusting that her Father or Brother would have told them to do something else.

When they pulled up to the ‘Second window’ of the fast food place Bill grabbed two large bags of food and extra-large drinks. He pulled up the truck just enough that the cashier could hand food over to the girls in the back of the truck. They were both hunkered down on their hands and knees, heads pressed down in order to avoid detection by the cashier. Wendy assumed Bill was just making them sweat it out, while he and Chris went through their order.

Much to her surprise there was a tap on the glass from inside the truck. She looked up to see her son pointing his thumb at the window and indicating she should sit up.

Wendy apprehensively popped up and there was the cashier waiting with a small bag of food and two drink. There wasn’t a trace of concern on the cashier’s face about how she was dressed or what she may be doing in the back of the truck, they simply didn’t care.

“Thank you, Ma’am” she said to the black girl working the drive-thru as she reached out and took the sack of food and drinks. Then she mouthed thank you to her son before disappearing behind the metal walls of the truck to see what they had when the truck was once again in motion.

The order was simple, two Arby’s roast beef juniors and a cup of ice. “There has to be some catch?” Wendy was so used to eating food coated in cum, spit or shaped like a cock in some humiliating fashion that it felt alien to have something that wasn’t.

“What do you think they did to this?” Wendy asked as they unwrapped their sandwiches from within the back of the truck.

Jamie hadn’t had any food that wasn’t itself degrading to eat in a week either. She was famished and her answer was to take a hearty bite out of it.

“Acckkkk” Jamie’s impish grin turned into a look of pain as she sucked the straw to her drink for water. “Horsey sauce!”.

The sandwiches were coated in extra spicy, white horseradish sauce. Wendy couldn’t help but smile. Even as rushed for time as Bill was, he had managed to add a tiny twist to the element of even eating fast food. She didn’t like what she was eating, but she had to hand it to Bill. He could be a real sadistic asshole when he wanted to be.

They were able to choke down the sandwiches after they got used to the white creamy sauce. Neither of them said it, but they both were thinking how it reminded them of semen. The sandwiches were small enough they had almost finished them before the Truck left the parking lot and was once again underway.

After twenty minutes Bill pulled into another Parking lot and the girls peeped their heads out to see where they were. “Oh shit.” Wendy said while pointing to a sign overhead.

“Marie’s Mini Mart?” Jamie asked skeptically.

“No the other one.” Hanging next to the first innocuous sign was one that read “Metro Adult MegaStore” and underneath the marquee read “My Granny is a Tranny” and underneath another title simply called “Acid Sex”.

“Toto, We aren’t in Kansas anymore.” Wendy remarked quietly.

Bill was already pulling down the gate to let them out of the back of the truck. “C’mon you sluts, because of all the time you wasted when you insisted on sucking off the entire ‘Geek Squad’ of Best Buy, we are behind schedule.” He exaggerated in order to humble them and motivate them to hurry.

“Sir, are they even going to let Chris and Jamie inside?”

“Let me worry about that.” Bill answered his wife as if he had already thought about that question. Then he thought about it and answered, “Look, they don’t card people at the door. It is an adult store, and you probably have to be 18 to be in there. If anyone asks, you are eighteen. Don’t give me any of your pure bread Polly Anna shit about lying either, Ass Face.” He looked at his daughter for confirmation she understood him.

They walked up to the building, it was half the size of Best Buy and had almost as many customers. “I checked on line. This is the biggest adult emporium in the tri-county area.” Bill explained. “I was going to order some stuff online, but it wouldn’t be here in time. We are going to do something you bitches just love to do!!”

Wendy was afraid to ask ‘what’. He seemed to be waiting for a response so she asked “What is that, Sir?”

“Shopping Spree, Bitches!” he slapped his wife on the ass as he delivered his intended punch line. “You are to be on Green Alert in here, and your best behavior. You impress us and we may start handing out letters. We’ll see about that.”

“Did you enjoy the sandwich we got for you?” Chris asked his sister.

“Yes Sir, it was very thoughtful, I was surprised by your generosity.”

“I knew you hadn’t eaten a lot of food, and I didn’t want you to do your big cunt stunt tonight on an empty stomach. Did you figure out why we gave you the ice cups?”

“To drink Sir, when it melted?” Jamie guessed.

“No you dumb cunt. Do either of you have to piss or shit before we get inside? This will be your last chance for a while.”

Wendy wished he hadn’t said that, now as if by suggestion, she did have to pee. She wasn’t sure where he was going with the ice cups, and was reluctant to answer his question until she knew what he intended. She may want to just hold it a little longer.

“I told you they were too stupid to guess what you wanted them to do.” Bill teased Chris with a slap on the shoulder.

“You may have heard of two girls one cup, well you are going to be two girls, two cups. You each get your own.” Chris sounded pleased with his own generosity in granting them both ice cups. “Dad doesn’t want you using the bathroom in this place. That is too civilized for whores like you. So when you do have to go, you’ll beg to go back on the truck and retrieve the cup and do your business in it.”

“And the reason for the Ice, Sir?” Wendy wasn’t sure she wanted to know why he wanted their piss chilled. Her curiosity wouldn’t let her leave it alone.

“Cow Tits, don’t be fucking stupid. They aren’t going to give an empty cup to us. We had to ask for ice cups. You are dumber than you look, and that isn’t saying much.” Chris sounded disgusted. “Last chance to you two piss machines. You want to go back to the truck and drop a deuce and piss, you can. If you need to go later, you’ll beg for the privilege before we let you.

Wendy and Jamie looked at each other, wondering what the other was going to say. They were both quiet, but both started to feel the Arby’s Roast Beef work its way through their tummy through their digestive tract. Wendy was also worried that all efforts to keep Jamie insulated from seeing the most disgusting and perverse things life has to offer was about to be undone if she sees everything in the store. She wanted to beg Bill that this violated their unspoken agreement to protect her from the darker side of things.

“They probably don’t get many teenagers in here. If they do, they are easy to spot because they are giggling and carrying on. You are both going to act like adults, like you belong here. Act totally natural and people will assume you are supposed to be here. Most people in these places don’t want people asking them a lot of questions about their reasons for being here, so they probably won’t ask you a lot of questions.” Bill offered final instructions at his daughter.

“Like at the fair, Sir.” Jamie answered in confirmation. Bill wanted her to explain further so she continued. “When Mom and I were dancing around in body paint, we were basically naked on the midway. The only reason no one ran off screaming about it is that the festive paint and our dancing, and how we were on display at the store as if we worked there made us seem like we belonged. Even though it seemed completely wrong, in context, we fit in.”

“Yeah, something like that.” Bill could see Wendy give him a stare that suggested she had a concern and he knew what it was. “Jamie, you are going to see some pornography, dildos and the like in this store. Are you ready for that?”

“I just blew six guys today, Sir.” Her eyes full of mirth as she said it. “I think I am ready to see what is inside, Sir.”

Bill was mentally doing the arithmetic on who she may have blown while he held the door open for his family. As Wendy walked through he said “Wait a minute. YOU hold the door open for us.”

“Yes Sir, Taylor men go first, then the Taylor women.” Wendy agreed and held the door open for her husband.

“Cum first” he corrected and she agreed while maintaining a wintry smile.

The store consisted of several rooms. There was a boutique devoted to lacy costumes, feather boas, and sensual oils. Bill and Chris didn’t have any interest in this room and walked on through. An overweight cashier sat quietly reading his book. He looked up when they entered the room and barely acknowledged them before going back to reading.

Chris had never seen so much porn in one place in his entire life in the next room. The main hall featured rows and rows of DVD and Blu-Ray racks of porn titles and magazine racks. “Wow, you think this place has more porn than the internet, Dad?”

“No son, I do not.” Bill answered as if he were pondering one of life’s metaphysical great questions.

This room was where most of the customers were. Despite the diversity of people who enjoy porn, there was a common demographic to the customers. Men in their late 30s to early 40s, usually with beards quietly looking at porn titles alone.

They seemed to Wendy to be listless and devoid of any emotion. They seemed intent on checking every possible title of porn for some new title that would scratch an itch and fill a void they had inside of them. As if to say “I know I have 200 films already, but perhaps I will find that one rare porn that thrills me in some new and different way.”

In a way she pitied their endless quest. They milled about an endless sea of hot babes in endless scenarios from school girls to naughty nurse to car washes to straight up “Just fucking” porn and they never seemed to find the Holy Grail they were questing for.

In the very back of the store was row after row of dildo and rubber sex toys. If archaeologists were to sift through the rubble of our long dead civilization thousands of years from now, they may assume this was some temple to the penis as its image was enshrined and celebrated everywhere inside.

Long ones, fat ones, skinny ones, flesh colored ones the dildos stretched as far and wide as the eye could see.

The balcony above the great hall was reserved for gag gifts and novelty items. There were racks of slutty Halloween costumes of a sexy Pocahontas or a sexy maid. There was probably a ‘sexy’ version of everything, including a female Captain America for some reason.

“Isn’t that just Wonder Woman?” Chris asked rhetorically. He quietly debated himself on whether it could be if one was DC and Marvel Comics. No one paid him any attention.

There were few customers on the balcony. A small bachelorette party was stopping in front of the merchandise to giggle amongst themselves. Each one of them looked like a variation of Natalie Maines, the slightly pudgy but cute lead singer to the Dixie Chicks.  They would tee-hee as they held up each penis cocktail umbrella or penis shaped ice tray they picked up and passed around going from novelty to novelty with amused fascination.

They would set it back down after having a laugh at it. There was however one girl in the back of the group who looked like she was mentally taking notes and planning to come back for the item.

“There is one in every bunch.” Wendy whispered to herself and noting the Universal truth of any bachelorette party. They all act like they are just goofing, but there is usually at least one who has the secretly perverted fantasies. It's something everyone seems to know, but hardly ever talks about with anyone else.

On the second floor there was another boutique devoted to BDSM leathers, whips and sex toys. This is the one Bill wanted to check first, so ignoring everything else the family went upstairs.

On the way up they also noticed a long hallway leading to private booths to “preview” erotic movies. There were a number of signs about acceptable behavior and the words “No unescorted ladies” next to the ones about purchasing 15 minute tokens or passes.

“I wonder why no unescorted ladies?” Chris asked to no one in particular.

“So prostitutes don’t work the rooms.” A voice that sounded straight out of Cheech and Chong answered from behind them and caught their attention. “Guys get all hot and bothered watching the movies, so a hooker comes in and waits around and says, well now that you’ve been teased, how about for fifteen bucks let me finish you off.”

Bill turned to look at the man who just answered his son. He had graying black hair under a Panama Jack hat and a scraggly beard. He was wearing John Lennon style spectacles, a Hawaiian shirt over a Van Halen T-shirt and dirty jeans. He would have looked completely out of place anywhere but in a mega porn outlet like this one.

Bill hadn’t expected many people to talk to them. His impression was that most people just wanted to be left alone at places like these.  “Do you work here?”

“No dude. My name is Buford.” He extended his hand to Bill. There was something off-putting about Buford but Bill couldn’t put his finger on it. He wondered if Buford was high on drugs or possibly retarded. He returned his handshake and noted Buford’s strong and steady grip. It wasn't that what he was saying didn't make sense. It was how he carried himself that was made him seem so strange.

“Wouldn’t that be awesome if I worked here? I don’t work anymore. I used to be an electrician, but one day I was installing some wires and ZZZZZAP.” His eyes became maniacally wide to emphasize his shock. “They said I would never work again, so now I have a cash settlement. It’s my money and I need it now, right?”  Buford sang the last part of his explanation.

Bill wasn’t sure what Buford was talking about and he wanted to get to the BDSM room so he excused himself.

“Sure man, but like can I ask you something without upsetting you?”

Bill was impatient to get moving, but he turned around and waited for Buford's question.

“Like, if you don’t want to do it, I understand and I don’t want to you know, freak you out or anything.” Buford seemed happy for anyone to talk too. It was as if he were drawing out his question to either gauge Bill’s desire to continue the conversation or just because he craved human companionship. “Would your girlfriends mind selling me their panties, dude?” he smiled like an impudent child as he added “I will pay you a hundie.”

“I am sorry to say, our ‘girlfriends’ don’t wear panties, guy.” Bill put air quotes around the word girlfriends.

“Oh man, that is a mind fucker. Wow. You are kidding me?” Buford was ecstatic by this information.  Bill thought he may be a bit TOO ecstatic, like a crazy person, so he excused himself once again.

“Dad, a hundred bucks?” Chris saw an opportunity to make some kind of money off the girls as they walked into the BDSM room.

“Fuck that guy, we have enough money. Let’s not worry about it.” Bill started looking at rubber corsets and buckles, single mindedly focused on the reason he came into the store. “I need to buy a chastity belt for your mom and sister and while we are here we may as well stock up on some toys and tools. Pick whatever you think you will need.” He told his son before adding “Look, if you want we can bring them here tomorrow in panties and if that weird guy is here, you can have them do whatever you want. Just let’s get what we came here for.”

Bill was never a window shopper. He remembered as a little boy, his father not being one either. He and his father would patiently wait for his mother in the truck while she shopped in Beall’s for clothes or the Grocery Store for food. If Bill had to go to the mall, he would strategically park closest to Sears (Since that is the only store he usually needed at the mall). Then he would bee-line straight for the shovel or jacket he came for. He was subconciously convinced that shopping was a competition between him and the store. If he could avoid impulse buying and distractions and just get what he came for then he ‘won’ it.

His wife on the other hand was the opposite. She would weigh all her options, considering price, function and appearance and once she had gone through all the pros and cons she would finally make her mind up. This took too long for Bill. He knew before he came to the store what he wanted.

That is why he had already picked out:

3. A studded black leather cat of nine tails whip
4. Matching red rubber ball gags
5. Twin spreader gags (The kind that hold the mouth open)
6. A purple feather tickler (putting back the pink one he saw, since it didn’t feel as ‘manly’)
7. Two satin blindfolds
8. Leather anklets that attached by chain to a belt, that also chain the wrists.
9. Two general purpose 30 inch ‘spreader bars’ to hold feet apart
10. Two general purpose 18 inch 'spreader bars' for arms bound behind back.
11. A studded leather paddle (which he repeatedly cracked in his hand to enjoy the sound)
12. 4 Quart Flowmaster Double bag Complete Colon Cleansing Enema Kit w/stand  (should impress Mrs. Waxerman)
13. Assorted chain leashes and clips, metal weights
    
    Chris picked out:
    
    
14. Liquid latex (various colors, mostly flesh or red and white in 16oz bottles)
15. Fetish fantasy series anodized cuffs (2 pair)
16. Twin Lelo sensua suede whips – black  (for him and his Dad or to use in each hand)
17. Two black silicon penis gags (in and out so it can be reversed, 2 inches one direction, 4 inches the other)
18. Leather “Arm Binders” (sleeves that buckle behind)
19. Two “Titty Presses” that can apply pressure to the breasts.
20. Udderly E-Z™ Goat Milker (heavy duty breast pump with 4 suction cups)
21. Optional Udderly E-Z™ adjustable silicon cup inserts for various sized teats.
22. Sheepskin massage mittens (2 pair) fingerless
    
    
    

“We can finally throw away those Toy cuffs we were using.” Chris was happy as he clanked them into the basket his Sister was carrying for him.

Bill looked at some “Sparkling Adult Toy” cleaner to polish rubber and dildos.

Buford sang “Make your erotic toys sparkle with cleanliness with this anti bacterial sex toy cleaning spray from Loving Joy. Simply spray on, leave for two minutes and rinse off. Efficiently killing bacteria, it leaves sex toys clean and germ free. Available in a spray or bottle for simple and effective cleaning for erotic toys made easy.”

Bill put it back on the shelf. “Why would I need that? They can just clean toys with their mouths. Nothing good comes out of their mouths, may as well find some use for wagging their tongues.”

“Besides Blowjobs?” Chris asked with a bemused expression.

“Well there is that.” Bill thought for a moment and on impulse put a bottle in his wife's basket. “It's only six dollars, may as well try it out.”

Chris rubbed his hands together greedily “We are like kids in a candy store!”

“Do you girls want new collars? Those are getting pretty raggedy?” Bill assessed his daughter’s collar between his finger, his question so ordinary and mundane like he may be offering them a new dress.

Wendy wanted desperately to ask how much all of this would cost. She was well aware they had some money available on a credit card, but this seemed like it would eat up most of their cushion. “No sir, I think these collars are suitable for sluts like us.” 

“Too bad.” Bill was reading a sign about custom collars. “I wouldn't be able to decide if I want yours to say Cow Tits or Wendy, anyway.” He laughed. “They take three to four weeks to make, so it is just as well.” He sighed.

She had chickened out on cautioning him that this spending spree may make it difficult to pay all their bills. She desperately wanted to warn him, but there was a perception she had always been the nag. This is why she ended up paying all the bills in the first place and handling the finances. She seemed more concerned about it then Bill ever had when their marriage first began.

“Check this out Dad.” Chris picked up an electrastim shiny metal butt plug that vibrated. “You ladies want this up your asses?”  Chris waved it around like a tiny rocket ship making its way on a winding trajectory for his mother’s ass. The girls were holding baskets with the stuff the men had picked up and trying to remain cordial and polite.

“Electricity. I used to be an electrician.” Buford’s voice interrupted their discussion before Wendy could answer her son.

“Yes, you told us earlier.” Bill’s comment had an unspoken, “So now why don’t you just fuck off.” to it.

Wendy wasn’t sure why he was so dismissive of this one guy. He had stressed to her and her daughter how important it was for them to put other people’s feelings first and stop being such bitches. She didn’t like the idea that he had a double standard. She remembered growing up hating that about her father when he said “Do as I say, not as I do.” It never felt right to her.

“He is just being friendly, Sir.” Wendy wasn’t sure why she blurted that out. She hadn’t intended to defend the friendly stranger. It could be that she always sided with the underdog and right now Bill was coming across like a bully.

She quietly wondered if her initial attraction to Bill back in High School was that despite the fact he was popular and an athlete, he also had a vulnerable side that made her want to root for him. The way “Rudy” did in that movie about Notre Dame, although Bill had played much more football.

All eyes were on her to continue her point. She didn’t know what else to say.  “Uh, is this a good butt plug, Sir?” She asked Buford as she held up one of the Electra stim models her son had been playing with. It was cold and heavy, made of some kind of shiny surgical steel.

Buford smiled gregariously and walked over to look at it. “I don’t know.” He seemed like a child looking at a new toy with wonder. Then he sang “Marine grade aluminum and acrylic. They take a piece of 6mm thick clear acrylic, bond it between two solid metal bars with aircraft strength adhesive, add 2 nitrile insulating o-rings, press a 2mm pin socket into each pole, then shape and polish their Midi electro plug to a fine finish. The result is spectacular. The high quality laminated construction of the probe means the electrodes are built in to the main body of the probe. This means the conductive surfaces will never become detached or wear out! You can also use this bi-polar probe as a uni-polar probe by just connecting one cable instead of two. You will need an ElectraStim erotic electro stimulator to use this item. If you are using a different power box and your cable does not have the 2mm pin connector you will need the ElectraStim Adapter Kit. 70mm penetration depth by 40mm diameter; 2mm pin socket compatible.” as if by memory.

“Did you just read that off of something?” Chris was awed by his sing-song delivery, but understood none of what Buford had just said.

“I am in here every day since my accident. Some people think I am an idiot savant, and some people just think I am an idiot.” His broad grin was that of someone who didn’t care what anyone thought.

He reminded Jamie of Rosco. Their dog would sit in the back yard with his mouth hanging open in what looked like a smile staring out into nothing

“You want this, I will buy it for you.” He said sweetly to Wendy as if he were offering her a friendly cocktail at a bar.

“That is okay, we can afford it. Listen, my family and I are trying to get some things and get out of here quickly.” Bill was uncharacteristically short with him. He could be that way at times, but he had gone out of his way at the fair or with Mrs. Waxerman to use strangers to humiliate his wife and daughter.

He had made it a point to them that they may eventually become used to humiliations at his hands and then they would get jaded. He knew that both Jamie and Wendy were more easily embarrassed when other people were involved.

Wendy felt disturbed by the lack of consistency in the message, but let it go. She had other concerns to worry about and if Bill wanted to send mixed messages she would let him. He would have to learn sooner or later that he was undermining himself, she thought to herself.

“Whoa, I am so sorry man. Maybe I can help, what else do you need?”

“I am looking for some corsets, and chastity belts.” Bill said before asking “Maybe I should just find someone who works here.”

“It is just Wilbur at the register. He won’t stop reading that book. He reads it night after night. Won’t tell me what it is. It must be really good though. I can take you to Corsets man, you are in the wrong place for that.” 

Bill had to admit that Buford had led them to right what they were looking for. It would have taken much more time to find it himself.

Chris whispered to his father, “If I ever go psychotic and lose my mind, I hope I go happy psychotic like him.”

Buford seemed to be constantly jamming to a concert happening only in his head. He would lose himself in an imaginary guitar solo as he fingered invisible notes and then announce the song, “Van Halen Eruption! The one and only Eddie Van Halen.”

Buford’s 'happy as shit'  manner seemed to lighten everyone’s mood except for Bill. He was curt as he selected a brocaded corset that buttoned up in the front. “Will this fit you?” He handed it to Wendy.

“Dressing rooms are over here, need to go get a key from Wilbur though.”

“We are fucking all the way upstairs and we have to trudge all the way back down stairs and through the store to get a key, then come all the way back?”

“Yeah Man, you do.” Buford said enthusiastically. The way he answered Bill’s obviously rhetorical question made the others laugh.

Bill might have been feeling guilty for his sour mood or that  the others were ‘turning on him’ and taking Buford’s side. “You know what? Fuck it. We should come back tomorrow. I wanted to get all this shit before Jamie goes out on the football field. They say they have a bigger selection and that is true, but the problem with that is it takes fucking forever to find anything. We would have been better off at a smaller store. We don’t have enough time to be farting around with our finger up our asses.”

“If you fart around, you should take your finger OUT of your ass, man. Gas needs some place to go. You block a fart and you could end up like me.” Once again Buford’s comment made everyone laugh. “Chillax bro, I’d get the key for you, but Wilbur isn’t talking to me right now.”

Despite Buford’s almost childlike positivity, there was a layer below the surface of someone who was lonely. You could at times see that he was once a very intelligent and different person. His eyes would flash with intelligence and he would carry himself in a more mature manner. Then after a lucid moment he would begin to groove and rock and turn back into a 14 year-old kid with the brain power of “Spicoli” from Fast Times at Ridgemont High.

Wendy was surprised by how unfettered Buford was about life. He had accepted that he was no longer the man he once was. He made no apologies for being who he was now, and he seemed to be happy. He made her picture someone floating down the river on an inner tube letting the current take them away to wherever it wanted. She was surprised she got all that from the short time she had known him.

Buford also had a wit about him like Yogi Berra or Walt Whitman. He had a way of saying a simple phrase or putting things a different way that made you laugh and like him. “Hey man, if you ask me anything I don't know, I'm not going to answer.” He swayed back and forth in time to what was possibly Phil Collins in the air tonight.

I was there and I saw what you did

    Saw it with my own two eyes

    So you can wipe off that grin

    I know where you've been

    It's all been a pack of lies

“This is my favorite part”  Buford drummed  ‘doo-dom doo-dom doo-dom” in time with his imaginary drum sticks.

Chris couldn’t help but follow along with him. When he opened his eyes and noticed his Dad staring at him, he shifted uneasily as if to apologize.

“You could just put it on out here.” Buford was still in a Phil Collins jam induced haze of euphoria.

“What and get kicked out?” Bill answered. “We already got hassled at Best Buy.” Bill had learned what really happened from Chris but he decided to vent his frustrations anyway.

“You think people will mind seeing someone try on a corset in a store that sells nothing but pictures of naked women? Hell they could take off their clothes and no one would probably say anything.”

Wendy stopped smiling, so did Jamie. Bill on the other hand finally smiled.

“What?” Bill was suddenly interested.

“Sure man. I mean if you or I took off our clothes, they would throw us out. I know dude, because I had a 24 hour ban on the 17th of May. It was a Monday. He appeared to have an incredible memory when he sang his words. “You can’t walk around here naked, but no one would say anything if it was girls. The entire store is full of naked girls.”

“Strip.” Is all Bill said.

Jamie and Wendy looked around. There were few customers on the balcony, the only notable ones were the sassy bachelorette party. They were close enough that Wendy could hear their countrified accents and giggles, “Look at this pecker shaped tooth brush.”.

“Is that our dares? For letters or stars?” Wendy was trying to silently read through the many lines of rules her husband had made them agree to for a loophole of some kind about public places.

“What, do you think Buford may have advised me wrong? You seemed to think he was so smart earlier?” Bill’s sarcasm didn’t endear himself to Wendy but she conceded his point. “Just take off your tops, and put on the corset. If anyone says anything, we’ll know soon enough.”

Wendy looked over her shoulder at the approaching bachelorette party and back at her daughter who was already removing her tank top to stand topless.

Buford became overly excited. He clenched his teeth in a smile and began to dance back and forth. He looked like an evangelist who was having his ‘praise jesus’ moment or someone who had just won a new car on a game show.

“Don’t pull a Jamie, Dude.” Chris laughed at the man’s excitement.

Buford didn’t understand the inside joke but only responded calmly “Okay, I won’t.”

Wendy had pulled her tube top off over her head and she could already hear the bachelorette party talking about them in catty voices. “Who do they think they are to do that in here?”

This might seem strange for women who were moments ago laughing about titty shaped milk jugs and penis flavored novelty lollipops. It made perfect sense to Wendy who knew she would have shown the same kind of disdain to two tramps, probably more out of jealousy than any sort of moral superiority.

It was the nature of a cat to hiss and there were a lot of reasons they did. No one could ever really tell you what the cat hoped to accomplish with their hissing. The same was true of women in situations like this.

“Oh wow, you are both pierced. That is so hot. God damn. You know what you need is barbells with studs on either side too. That would just be awesome.”

Bill smiled at Buford’s comments while he handed his wife a tight corset to try on and one for his daughter. They began to button it up in front for each other, cinching their waist to exaggerate an impossible hourglass figure. Buford also found some button in the back corsets for the girls to try on.

“Do you want a pearl necklace?” Buford danced around holding white plastic novelty beads. The sign read “Pearl Necklace”.

“They already got one of those earlier.” Chris joked.

“Okay, I will put that away, Wilbur doesn’t like it when I don’t put things back exactly where they belong.” Buford failed to pick up on Chris’s sarcasm.

“Oh how about this, I know what is going to be hot. You are going to love it. Let me get it.” Buford dashed off into the racks of clothing and returned with two bathing suits.

They are technically bathing suits by the definition of the word you could ‘bathe’ in them. “A fence net halter top and g- string” Buford displayed matching bikinis with the kind of excitement like Steve Martin had in

‘The Jerk’, when he first discovered his name in the phone book and thought he was famous.

“What is cool about this, is it comes with flesh colored inserts so it looks like you have nothing on under the netting, or you can wear them!” He was thoroughly amused as he removed the Velcro and put it back in.

“Try them on.” Bill ordered.

“If you wish Sir, but aren’t we on a tight time constraint? I know my size.” Wendy pleaded as she began unbuckling her corset already predicting Bill’s decision.

“One size fits most (90 lbs - 160 lbs). Show off your best assets!” Buford sang of the bikini as he handed it to them.

Wendy shimmied out of her skirt as did her daughter. They could hear the hen-like clucks of disapproval from the bachelorette party. One might think if they were so offended by what they saw, they would go to another part of the store or report them to the manager. Instead, they seemed intent on watching and waggling a finger. “Will you look at those two?”

Wendy bent at the waist to step into the bathing suit and twirled for her husband, trying to ignore the scorn of the other women. Jamie twirled for her brother and father completely shutting them out. The closer other women are to peers of yours, the more their scorn seems to hurt and Wendy was feeling the brunt of it.

Jamie snapped her waist band. It is kind of snug, but it would do.

“What does your tattoo say?” Buford’s energy level was skyrocketing as he asked the question she turned so he could read it.

“WH..RE?”

“WHORE” She said out loud and pulled her cheeks apart so that he could see the O in the middle. It was only obstructed by the thin strip of black cloth from the G-string.

Buford got introspective for a moment as if he were thinking. “Is that a band? I don’t think I have ever heard of them?”

“No Sir, I am a whore. We got these last night at the fair.”

“The County Fair? I love it there!” He was so happy he seemed like he couldn’t take it up a notch further. That is until he realized Wendy had a matching tattoo to go along with it.

“You got these together? That is far out.”

“Listen if you don’t buy these, after you’ve had them on for a little while, I may want them.”

“No, they want them, don’t you ladies?” Bill answered with a grin.

“Yes Sir, thank you. We appreciate anything you pick out for us.” Wendy said in the formal tone of an affirmation.

“Do you need an affirmation, because those women are bothering you?”

“Bridal Party. They won’t talk to me. Told me to get lost and never talk to them again. They seem nice though!” Buford came across like a person incapable of malice, who was constantly looking for the good in people. He also seemed unbalanced and easily entertained by the simplest of human contact in a strangely endearing way.

“No Sir, we don’t have much time before Jamie’s game, and I would rather not do one right here.”

“Boump, Boump Bow-Bowwwww” Buford played “Jamie’s Cryin” on air guitar. He sang directly to Jamie assuming that was her name.

She saw the look in his eyes

N' she knew better

He wanted her tonight

And it was now or never

He made her feel so sad

Oh, whoa, whoa, Jamie's cryin’

“Why do I make you feel sad, Sir?” Jamie asked sweetly.

“You don’t know how beautiful you are on the inside and out. You just know on the outside.” He flashed in one of his lucid moments.

“That is so sweet, thank you Sir.”

“You are so polite.” He was still picking his invisible guitar and jamming.

“I have to be, Sir.” Jamie admitted. She had never heard the actual song Jamie’s Cryin, but she remembered other kid’s singing it when she got teased as a little girl. She made a mental note to check it out after the training was over.

“What is an affirmation?” Buford became slightly more reserved when he was Lucid. He reminded Jamie of a man who may have been a trial attorney, who had lost his mind in some accident, but not his dignity. She remembered an old movie with Harrison Ford. She couldn’t remember the whole thing, but what she did know was that Buford was ‘special’ in more ways than one.

She looked to her father for a sign as to whether she should explain. He was looking at demi-bras and garters and only half paying attention.

“My mother and I are given affirmations several times a day. We are asked to think about why we are doing what we are doing. We give thanks to my brother and father for keeping us in line and their guidance. They sometimes help us refocus on getting through this. It is an attitude adjustment.”

“Whoa, I’d like one of those! Everyone should do that?”

Jamie looked confused. The affirmations were humiliating experiences for her and her mother.

“Everybody man, has to think at least a few times a day about why they are here. Take a look at themselves and ask if they like what they see. Then they should give thanks to their brothers, then they should give thanks to the Father, man.” Jamie realized Buford had taken the context of brother to mean “all men” and Father to be “God” .

“Everybody seeking guidance on what is right. To question it, and then get refocused on what really matters. That sounds awesome.” Buford’s intensity had become far more manageable, he was still very positive but now that he had something deep and profound to think about, he seemed more grounded.

“Can I do one with you man? I’ll pay you a hundie for it.”

“I don’t think you’ll like the way we do them, but a hundred dollars is a lot of money. We could work something out.” Chris wanted to profit off his mother and sister’s discomfort, but he wasn’t convinced Buford really understood what the affirmations entail.

“Dad, do we have enough time to do an affirmation?”

“I already told your mom she could do one if she needed it. I need to find the chastity belts though. That is the single most important thing we came here for.” Bill had a pained expression as he rifled through slutty latex and rubber clothing.

“Okay man, I can show you.” Buford walked them back into the BDSM room right past the bachelorette party. They stopped their giggling at sex toys only to ‘harumph’ and put their noses up. “Who would want to wear those bikinis after they tried them on out here?”

Wendy wanted to give them a piece of her mind. It took a great deal of will power not too. She at least wanted to ask the question what the difference would have been if they had put them on in the changing room and wore them back out. They still looked completely naked except for some netting and flesh colored material.

“Is that a daughter and a mother?”

“More like a grandmother and her unwed mother to be.”

“Those tattoos. Oh gag me, Alice. Can you imagine?”

“Those can’t be real.”

“As If.”

Wendy stopped in her tracks as she heard them tease her. She spun on her heel like a rabid mama grizzly bear protecting her cub. Then she summoned all herself-control and answered in a calm and controlled tone, “It is a real tattoo, ma’am.”

“I was talking about your boobs, hon.” The blonde leader of the party stung back.

“Dayum!” Chris acknowledging the sting of the comment only made Wendy angrier.

She managed to remain in control of her attitude. “Yes Ma’am, I have had a breast enlargement. Would you like to feel how firm they are?”

The woman didn’t say anything back. Wendy wondered if she was being passive aggressive or if she had managed to win an argument by not rising to match the other persons anger. 

“I would like to feel them.” Buford said with a snicker.

“May I Sir?” She asked Chris since he was closest, ignoring her instinct to ask Bill. Chris nodded and Wendy flipped her bikini top up to offer her breasts to Buford for a squeeze.

“Oh man, oh man, oh man, I love tittays!!!” He was so animated that even the wedding party had to laugh.

“We are going to do an affirmation, you are welcome to watch.” Wendy wanted to add that she’d appreciate if they left them alone, but she wasn’t sure if Bill would get angry that she was telling her ‘betters’ what she appreciated. She decided that had said it all.

Much to her chagrin the wedding party left them alone and moved to another side of the store without further conflict.

The one girl who seemed to be taking mental notes held back after the rest of the party left.

“I am sorry about them. You are awesome. You two remind me of some friends of mine, Tina and Savannah.” She said the names as if Wendy would recognize them.

“Never heard of them, but thank you I think.”

“They are like you two, comfortable with their own sexuality and strong. I wish I was more like you.”

Wendy wanted to say “No you do not”, but she graciously accepted the compliment before the woman returned to her friends.

Wendy noticed she hadn’t flipped her top back down for the entire exchange. She hadn’t felt exposed or vulnerable the entire time.

“You want to keep on the bathing suits?” Bill said as he sorted through chastity belts. There were ones that looked like old time medieval belts but made out of corrugated steel. There were chastity belts for men that placed their cocks in a cage “This is something you would have got for us.” Bill shook it.

“If you want us to remove the bikinis, we will obey Sir. They are not covering much anyway.” Wendy felt comfortable answering for her daughter on the first question. “Yes, I am wicked enough of a bitch that I would have bought a chastity belt like that to put you in. I am not sure how much they cost, so I would have had to make sure we had enough money.” She answered her husband hoping he would pick up on her subtle hint that he should also check the price tags.

“The Yank is only $9.24, Here is something new and exciting! The Yanks is an adjustable harness that attaches to the thigh and penis and gives the penis a tantalizing tug with each step. The Yank is made of sleek faux-leather with adjustable penis and thigh straps. Wear it nude or under clothing!” Buford sang in reply. “You put your dick in it!” He added in his excited tone about the small thong like sheath.

Wendy and Jamie had stepped out of the bikini they were wearing and holding them along with the rest of their clothes inside the BDSM boutique. There were no other customers around, so this hardly seemed humiliating unless you realized any could come walking in at any moment.

Jamie wondered if by some strange chance, Bradley Jenkins, who had the habit of showing up at times like these, would just ‘happen to be delivering some Chicken soup for a friend’.  She couldn’t help but smile at the image of him innocently saying “Oh Buford, yeah he is an old friend of mine.”.

Buford who didn’t seem to think two women standing naked in front of him picking out Chastity belts was unusual at all was trying to be helpful. “Do you want the top of line, premium, absolute best they have?” he asked Bill.

“Yeah!”

“For man or a woman?” Buford asked.

Bill knotted his brow. He wondered how Buford couldn’t obviously see he was looking for one for Jamie and Chris. “One to fit them.” He answered patiently while pointing to his wife and daughter.

“Okay, I wanted to be sure so you don’t get angry, Bro.”

Chris was quietly amused that Buford used the term “Bro” because he used it too.

In a moment, Buford returned with two boxes containing very impressive and elaborate looking chastity belts. “This is even better than the ‘Cockblocker 3000’. It's Guaranteed to keep your teenager pure, or double your money back. Not legally binding in all states.”  He sang as he lifted one out of its container.

It looked expensive. “This is the Pussy Prison.” He held it up for them to see, it was mostly reinforced stainless steel with padding. Bill decided not to ask how Buford had become such an expert on female chastity devices. He decided immediately that this contraption was exactly what he had in mind.

“Made of 24ga. stainless steel, and covered with a clear vinyl in the front, and black vinyl backing. It's ultra slim design makes it impossible to be detected through the clothing. Has a 5" slot which expands from the clitoris, to the end of the vagina, to allow for urination. However the shield will not allow penetration from the rear, or front. Has a removable rear shield that locks into place. The rear shield can be removed without removing the main belt.” He sang. Bill was already convinced and handing the device to his daughter to try on.

“The rear shield has a four inch anal plug, that should be cleaned at least daily or whenever it is removed. The front plate has been ribbed with a replaceable French tickler. The thigh guards are attached by chain to the belt and can be linked together to limit mobility. There are four additional hoops on the main belt for attachment to standard leashes, handcuffs and restraints. The entire ensemble can be unlocked with included key. Pussy Prison comes configured to be unlocked in rear to prevent the wearer from reaching the lock.” Buford continued.

Jamie who had remained fairly unaffected by tonight’s ordeal, was having a difficult time with the Chastity restraint. It intimidated her, especially the rear mounted anal plug and the front mounted French tickler.

“Okay, I don’t know about this, Sir.” She looked ill to her stomach. It may not have helped she had eaten Arby’s food only a short time earlier and it was still working its way through her stomach.

“You a scaredy cat?” Chris was shocked. His sister seemed to be ready for anything. She had not backed down from any of the challenges she had been given.

“That’s fine Chris, your Sister can choose to go on dates without it. You just have to show them how far they are allowed to play with her clit and asshole and what they can’t do.”

Jamie looked at her mom and back again at Chris in shock.

“That is your Sister? I thought it was your girlfriend.” Buford asked Chris.

“Jamie is my sister, and Cow Tits is my mom” Chris answered with a snicker.

“Holy Shit!!” Buford’s happy button had gone to an “11” on a scale of 1-10. “Does Jerry Springer know about you?”

“He does, but we are holding out for an agent.” Chris joked.

“Wow man, I wish I was an agent.” Buford’s intense stare only made Chris back away a little.

Jamie giggled at Chris’s reaction, there was something humorous and tongue in cheek about it. “Will you help me put it on Sir?”

Wendy watched as Chris tried to help his sister step into the outfit and then slide it on. The butt plug wasn’t going in.

“You probably need some lube.” Buford suggested.

Bill was about to suggest Chris just spit on his sister’s ass in order to help her get into it when Buford broke out into his sing song.

“You could pick Anal Lube to Enhance the pleasure of anal intercourse with desensitizing lubrication. The water-based Anal Lube formula is made especially for anal sex to eliminate any discomfort and provide incredible anal stimulation. Smooth and slick - this gel, in original, is a must have personal lubricant. Bottle includes 6 oz. of lube”

Then he paused for a moment and sang “Then there is Slimax Personal Lube, The name says it all! Rub this personal lubricant on your private places and you're sure to climax. Use for sexual intercourse or with adult toys for a more pleasurable experience. It increases sensitivity and heightens sensation for an orgasm that's easily achieved and more intense. Sa-afe to use with condoms.” To the tune of “Twelve Days of Christmas” when they sing “And a Pa-rtridge in a Pear Tree”.

“Jamie, needs Slimax!”

Buford diligently ran off to get it. “I know right where that is!”

“Dad?” Jamie seemed genuinely confused about how the chastity belt fit on and why he would pick the stuff that increases sensitivity. “You know the piercings have been driving me crazy. This isn’t fair?”

“Oh, not fair? Life isn’t fair. Didn’t anyone tell you princess?” Bill said showing no sign of sympathy at all. “You think I want you in a chastity belt that you cannot feel? I want you to experience every little bump and snag. It is going to be good for you to see how it feels. If you feel constantly horny every second of every day, you’ll start to get a SLIGHT idea of what it’s like for most teenage boys. The difference being, they usually can’t find a willing partner. They aren’t blowjob queens who can just offer up their mouth and everyone will take them up on the offer. It’s far more difficult to be a boy.”

“I’ll be good Sir, just push it in now while he is gone.” Jamie promised lifting the belt up, and pulling herself apart to try to get it up her tight ass.

“You’ll tear that precious pink hole of yours. Just cool your jets. It will be up that stink hole of yours in no time.” Chris supported his dad’s position.

When Buford returned with the Slimax, he said “You guys are going to buy this right, it’s $12.32?”

Bill nodded he would with a smile. “I am going to have to introduce you to Uncle Creepy. You talk enough for the both of them.”

“I had a Creepy Uncle once, he touched me on the hoo-hah in the poo-pah!” once again the family laughed at Buford’s candid remark even if it had been unintentional.  “Can I put the lotion on?” Buford seemed like a Kid begging if he could ride with Santa Claus.

“Sure.” Bill felt the guy had earned it.

Buford reached between Jamie’s legs. She was holding up the unclasped chastity belt around her thighs. He began oiling up the metal butt plug with his hands. “I probably should have washed my hands first, huh?”

“Why, do you think your hands could be dirtier than the inside of her asshole?” Chris asked.

“That is a very good point. I never thought about it like that.” Buford seemed thankful for the tip.

“Jamie, do you want to put a little on your finger and rub it around your uh, opening?” Buford asked politely.

“My father said for you to apply the lotion, Sir.” She said sweetly. She knew her father would have insisted anyway.

Jamie couldn’t see Buford’s face as she made that statement but if excitement had a face, it would be Buford. He looked like he had simultaneously been struck by lightning, while listening to Jimi Hendrix play Led Zepplin while winning the lottery while smoking the best weed he had ever smoked.

Jamie had been practical about the matter. She knew her Dad would have insisted Buford apply the lotion anyway. Chris and him had frequently played games with her head where they let her choose the easy way out, only to insist she take the hard way.

“You can activate it by heat.” Buford rubbed in a pink sickly strawberry lotion into Jamie’s asshole and around her pussy lips. He blew on it and Jamie started to buckle at the knees in what was half agony and half ecstasy.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!” She was blowing on her fingers and waving them around as if that would have some effect on what she was feeling.

“You aren’t drying your nails, stop being a baby about it.” Chris plooped the butt plug into his sisters ass without resistance and locked the harness around her waist. She was making a ‘squeeee’ sound as he attached the two metal hoops around her thigh by small chains.

“Dad, should we chain her thighs together?”

“Sure, she won’t notice anyway. Let’s try it out.”

“Nooooooooooooooooooooooaaaaaffffffffffffffffffffff” Jamie was dancing in place. She could feel her entire body heating up. She felt she was turning pink and about to explode. She was holding her breath and her cheeks were bloated out.

“Breathe Jamie.” Bill laughed at his daughter’s reaction. “You look like you just ate a hot pepper.”

Jamie who was still holding her breath for no apparent reason, pointed to her ass. She let out a gasp, “Jalapeno, up my ass. That is what it feels like. Oh fuck, oh fuck…”

“It will probably wear off after a few minutes. Then you will just feel sticky.” Buford said. It might have sounded uncaring if it had come from anyone else, but Buford’s tone was excited and happy for Jamie.

“You ready?” He asked Wendy.

“I have mine on, Sir.” Wendy had been quietly left alone to work with her own chastity belt. She had afternoons of Steve’s asshole training to thank for the ability to slide the butt plug right into her sphincter. It fit snugly but wasn’t turning her on the way Jamie was gyrating.

“Get it off, you dumb cunt. You need the lube.” Bill demanded.

“Yes Sir” she didn’t argue but she explained “I thought you would not want to waste any on me, and be happy I put it on myself, Sir?”

“I get tired of you defending your position all the time. Sometimes I want you to just listen and think about what I want to say. Get the fucking plug out of your ass, and get lubed up like your fucking daughter before I find something bigger to shove up that stinky ass crack of yours.” Bill was angry. “You don’t understand how tired I get of having you try to change my mind on every little thing.”

Wendy pulled the unlocked chastity belt down around her knees and bent at the waist so that Buford could apply the lube. “I am Sorry Sir, I will try to be a better wife and listen more.” Wendy couldn’t help her reaction to try to ‘help’ people by offering another side they may not have considered. She had a hard time accepting that not everyone wanted to consider the other side and be convinced.

She didn’t have time to think about that as Buford’s rough hands found their way to the crack of her ass and he slathered her asshole and pussy lips with the slimey lubricant.

“That’s a nasty garter belt. You tie up horses by their heads, dogs and bears by their necks, monkeys by their waists, and humans by their legs. When a person’s prone to wanderlust, he has to wear wooden socks, like a chastity belt around his ankles.” Buford sang his poem as Wendy began to buck and wiggle.

“Hold on, hold on, let me get it locked in place. Hang on.” He slid the plug into her slicked up asshole and Wendy began to dance and hop like her daughter, much to the delight of Bill and Chris.

“You like it.”

Wendy said nothing.

“What is it you said just now, about a garter belt and tying up Horses?” Chris asked Buford

“Sometimes I remember things that I don’t understand. I think that is King Lear. Shakespeare? I don’t know how I know that. I got a question for you, Man. Is this the affirmation for your Mom and Sister?” Buford was innocently curious.

“Oh no, that should come next. Don’t you agree Dad?”

“If these cunts can stop hopping around, Yes.” Bill was watching his two sluts dance around in the Chastity belts. Jamie’s chastity belt was making a “chink-chink” sound as the chains attached at her thighs bounced and fell while the bell around her collar made a ‘tink-tink’ sound in time with it. It was very amusing to him.

“We are going to buy these paddles. So how about we smack their butts anytime they don’t stay perfectly still?”

“Please Sir?” Jamie pleaded, she was involuntarily still bouncing, her tits bouncing as she did.

A customer walked into the BDSM boutique of the store and seeing what was happening turned back around and walked right back out. He was the typically quiet, bearded demographic of lone strangers who kept to themselves Bill expected to find here. He headed straight for the stairs remaining perfectly calm and expressionless.

“That guy was in here on April 2nd of last year, it was 5:30 PM. He bought an XL Sidewinder Leather Thong.”

“Are you just making that up?” Chris asked Buford.

“Probably, yes.” Buford smiled innocently.

“Do you think he will tell the manager we are up here holding court and trying on things outside the dressing room?”

“Wilbur is not the manager. If he does tell him, I guess we’d all get kicked out. This would be the fourth time I was told to stay away for 24 hours straight.” Buford explained.

“Alright, well let’s make it brief, because after this we are going to drop Wendy off for her date and get Jamie ready for her stunt at half-time.” Bill announced, noticing the girls were standing in position one and trembling.

He spanked his wife’s butt with his new paddle to get her attention and remind her to stop shaking. He knew it was involuntary for the most part. He couldn’t imagine what the cream was doing to her body, but he liked watching her writhe and mew like this.

“Tell Buford why you have affirmations.”

“Like my daughter said, we answer questions and those answers force us to think about what brought us to this place in life. We also thank you for keeping us in line and disciplining us for our shortcomings. You take the time to develop new rules for us to understand and accept and train us to be good sluts as opposed to mean bitches, and we both thank you for your attention and time, Sir.”

“Wow Man!” Was Buford’s only response.

“Tell Buford why you have on that chastity belt.”

“I am going to go on a date tonight with someone. The chastity belt prevents him from playing with my pussy or ass, Sir.”

“You don’t seem like someone who minds that very much, if you don’t mind me saying so?” Buford seemed Lucid again. “What about playing with your boobs?”

“I don’t know, Sir. This is my first real date with someone. I am sure my son and husband will tell me where the boundaries are.”

“Why does your son tell you what the boundaries are?” Buford asked with a positive yet lucid voice.

“Hey, who is giving the affirmation, me or you?” Bill asked of Buford, but he was kidding. He was implying Buford could ask the questions if he liked.

“Oh I am so sorry, man.” Buford apologized. “I was going to say if you want something that works like a chastity belt for the boobs. You could try the ‘The Tit Tuggers’, they consist of a pair of erotic nickel plated breast and nipple torment devices specially designed to pinch and pull the tits. ‘The Tit Tuggers’ are pleasurably painful and playful, and even though they pinch hard they feel good. ‘The Tit Tuggers’ work by first, clamping the clothes-pin style pincher to the nipple. The clamper is fastened to a stem and together they measure a total length of 6¼”. The stem is threaded. The curved metal arch of ‘The Tit Tugger’ has an opening in the center for the stem to fit through and a wing nut on the outside hold it in place. The stem can be pulled through and tightened to pull the nipple out up to a total of 1½” he sang.

“Wow, yeah. That does sound good. Can you go get that? Two of them!” Buford was dutifully fetching it while Bill was still asking for it.

Wendy wished Bill would look at the prices of these things before making a decision. She wasn’t sure what he bought at Best Buy, but added to the cost of all these objects she knew it would break their bank unless he wasn’t careful.

Bill slapped her ass with the leather paddle. He was pleased to hear the satisfying lightning crack of a real leather paddle instead of the makeshift tools of torture they had been using at home. It felt good in his hands.

“So tell Buford, why does your son tell you what your boundaries are?” He slapped her ass again leaving a nice welt on her sore ass. He stared at the “Tit Tugger” box with awe. The device looked like a cage his cock might have gone in, except for the oversized alligator clip that could be rotated and pulled inside of the metal harness.

“The men of the Taylor family are superior in all ways to the females. They naturally decide for us and we obey. They reward us when we are good, and they punish us when we make mistakes so we learn not to make them again.”

SLAP!

“I didn’t ask about the men of the Taylor family. I asked why does your son set the boundaries for you. Why do you have such a problem with this question?”

“I am sorry Sir.” Wendy took a deep breath. She had explained this before but she always struggled with the words. It could be that she didn’t believe it fully, or it could just be how hard it was to admit out loud. “My son is one of my owners, until I can demonstrate fully the error of my ways. I did some mean, harsh, cruel things that at the time made perfect sense to me, because I am an insensitive bitch, Sir.” She admitted.

“Oh no you are not.” Buford tried to sound comforting and reassuring.

“Yes I am Sir. I am reminded daily, that when I had the opportunity, I put my son and husband through my own personal ringer and humiliated them and emasculated them. In order to be forgiven for my offenses, I have agreed to let them train me.” Wendy sniffled as if she were holding back a tear but her voice never cracked.

She used her hands to indicate her naked body and the chastity belt. “I agreed to be kept this way as payback for everything. I could have chosen to let the family fall apart and not seek forgiveness, but I love my son and husband so much that I am willing to endure humiliations at their hands, submit to them, and serve for their amusement.”

“Oh wow, you really are a good mother.” Buford commented positively.

Wendy was no longer dancing a jig back and forth, but she was still feeling sick to her stomach. The Arby’s and this particularly sore topic tended to do that to her. The butterflies that seemed to be on double-duty almost every waking moment were staging their usual riot in her stomach and she felt warm all over from the lube. The warmth reminded her of an itch she could not scratch, because she could do nothing but endure the tingles while they danced across her body.

“No Sir, I am a bad mother. I led my daughter to help me treat the men this way. Remove their authority, disrespect them, leash them and make them our house pets. I also put career, my exercise, and my ‘cow tits’ before the needs of the family. I acted as an enabler to my son and husband and coddled them for years before all of this because I did not show them the proper respect.  Please don’t feel pity for me. I don’t deserve it.  I brought this all on myself, and this is how we get closure.”

“Speaking of closure” Wendy heard a familiar voice coming from behind her. She turned to look out into the balcony area to see who it was.

She shrieked in shock!

The Family Feud III

Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Two Girls, Two Cups”

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 36
Get out of jail cards: 1
WHORE: 1,3,1,0,0
JAMIE: 39
Get out of jail cards: 1
WHORE: 1,3,1,0,0

He was almost seven foot tall, built like a linebacker with a strong jaw. He looked like a weight lifter had been crossed with a caveman and he was wearing the uniform of someone who worked here. The clothes were so tight they looked like the seams would burst due to his bulging muscles.

The sight of the muscled employee behind her was definitely shocking. It wasn't what caused Wendy to yelp like a wounded puppy. The innocuous little man to his left was Jerry Cooper from accounting where she worked. The very same one who had ran out of her office just before she left for the day when she offered to suck his cock.

Standing next to the giant of a man only made Jerry seem even shorter by comparison. He was wearing the same uniform as an employee at the porn store.

“You work here?” Wendy asked. She was wearing only high heels, a cat collar and a chastity belt. She felt naked and vulnerable. She had felt that way the entire time she had been undressed but now more so. She wanted to put her arms across her chest for all the good it would do.

He had heard everything - her entire admission of why she had agreed to training. This was an entirely different story than the one Steve must have given him earlier in the day. She could see by the look on either of their faces they were far from amused.

“This is Jerry and Wilbur!” Buford introduced the two employees. “This is Bill, Chris, Wendy and Jamie Taylor. They are cool!” Buford was the only one who was excited by his introduction. Buford became very animated like a small child with too much energy to burn.

“When a customer told me people were running around nude in the Domination Parlor, I should have known it was you.” Jerry sounded disappointed. He was ignoring Buford completely and talking directly to Wendy. “So everything you told me today was a lie?”

“Yes Sir, most of it.” Wendy could tell by the confused looks that she needed to clarify. “I work with Jerry and I told him I behave this way because I am a recovering sex addict”. Wendy sounded disappointed in herself.

“Oh man, a sex addict!” Buford performed an air guitar solo to whatever monster rock song was firing in his synapses at that moment.

“You should probably put your clothes on. I assume you are buying all of this stuff?” Jerry's tone had become passive, as if he was hurt but had expected to be lied too.

The girls looked to Bill who silently gave them the nod to put their clothes on over the chastity belts they had on.

“Are you mad, Jerry?” Buford asked apologetically.

“No, I am not mad, Buford. I am used to being lied too.” Jerry sighed.

“Am I banned from the store again?” Buford asked.

“Yes Buford, you have a 24 hour ban. Don't come back for 24 hours.”  Jerry shrugged.

“We'll pay for this stuff, some of it we want to wear out of here, is that okay?” Bill asked Jerry.

“Yes, that's fine as long as you have all the boxes.” Jerry answered.

Buford put his hands in his pockets and began to walk out to the 2nd level balcony to exit the store. All his energy had been drained and now he looked depressed.

Buford had endeared himself to Bill. He was feeling guilty for being short with the man who had only been trying to make himself helpful. He assumed that whatever condition Buford had drove away most people and he was probably very lonely.

“Look, Buford was only trying to be helpful. He shouldn't be in trouble for what my girls did.”

“You must be Bill. I have heard a lot about you.” Jerry said with a roll of his eyes. “Don't worry about Buford. He gets banned a lot. He will be back. We can help you carry this stuff down stairs. Wilbur, can you grab some of these things?” he pointed to some of the items.

“No, the girls will carry it down to your cash register. It's their stuff anyway.” Bill insisted.

Jerry shrugged and the two employees walked the Taylor family down the stairs into the boutique so they could be rung up. Buford was in the boutique when they walked in. He had a bemused look on his face while he fascinated himself with the feel of a feather boa on one of the mannequins.

Wilbur and Jerry ignored him as they guided the family over to the cash register.

The girls were carrying all of the bondage gear. Their faces had become ashen with the knowledge that all of these objects would be tools used to punish, humiliate and hurt them in all new ways.

“Buford, you need to go home. You were banned.” Jerry was obviously the manager, but his voice didn't sound very authoritative.

“Oh man, I never get to have any fun.”

“Buford, you should go home and get some sleep. You can come back in twenty four hours.”

“Can I give them a 10% discount?” Buford asked as Wilbur started ringing up the items.

“No you may not, Buford.” Jerry answered as if talking to a child who asked for pancakes for supper.

“Oh man, I never get to have any fun.” Buford said in the exact same way he had earlier.

“Okay Buford, 5% is that good enough?”

“Hell Yeah!” He made a “V” for victory sign with his arms as if his team had just won the superbowl. “Five percent! That kicks ass!!”

Bill was confused. He was happy to get the discount, but he hadn't been too concerned about how much money he was spending anyway. His wife was a Senior Executive Vice President for several years, they had this covered. “Thank you, that was very nice of you.” He told Jerry.

“You can thank the owner, it was his decision.” Jerry answered as he helped remove tags and bag up all the lose items at the register.

“The owner?” Bill looked at Buford for confirmation. Buford was rocking and grooving to a beat that only existed in his head while checking himself out in a mirror.

“Yeah, Buford bought this place after he got a cash settlement.”

“So you can ban him?”

“It is the only way we can get him to go home and leave. Usually he follows people around the store trying to be helpful and most people don't mind. At some point, we send him home to sleep.”

“Jerry is harsh!” Buford answered still performing his own imaginary rock tribute in the mirror.

“I thought you said you wish you could work here?” Chris asked him about something he had said when they first met on the balcony.

“Oh hell yeah! I would never hire someone like me though, dude. I am way too fucked up for this job.” Buford's answer was mellow and laid back. He was putting his energy into making circular Pete Townshend style strums on his air guitar while checking himself out in the mirror.

His answer made even Wilbur grin. The strong silent giant reminded Wendy of “Lurch” from the Addams's family only much more muscular.

“I took a second job here to help make ends meet. Alimony and child support eats up most everything I make.” Jerry explained despite no one asking him why he worked there. “I assumed it was far enough out of town most people from work would never know I am employed in a place like this.”

“You love working here!” Buford was rocking his head back and forth like a heavy metal head banger.

“Yes Buford, I love it here.” Jerry sighed as if he didn't really believe it.

“Sir, may I ask what you will tell Steve at work?” Wendy's lip was quivering. She was genuinely very nervous. No one else really understood the delicate game she had been playing at work. She had been spinning so many plates at once and now it felt like it was all going to crash down around her.

“I haven't decided yet.” Jerry said dismissively. He had  a hurt look on his face as he continued to work.

“You are the one who has her cell phone?” Bill wasn't following Wendy's concerns. She was always two moves ahead when it came to assuming what will happen next and he knew she was worrying about something that is coming down the road and not right now.

“Yeah, it's out in my car. Sorry about that. I'll walk out there with you after you are paid up and give it back.” He sounded polite but from his passive aggressive tone it seemed he didn't like Bill either.

“Look, can I ask what went on today?” Bill asked curiously.

“I am not really comfortable talking about it at my work.” He looked at Jamie for a split second and then at Chris.

“If you are worried about talking in front of them, it's okay.” Bill reassured him.

“Are they even old enough to be in here?” Jerry asked as if he were powerless to confirm it by requesting a photo ID.

“Yes Sir, I am 18.” Jamie answered brightly.

“So am I.” Chris answered next.

“Brother and sister, both the same age? Funny, you don't look like twins.” Jerry said skeptically.

“It is going to be 2,873 and 84 cents.” Wilbur finally spoke in a low, booming voice.

Bill handed him a credit card without even flinching. Wendy wanted to dive on it like a soldier diving on a hand grenade to save the rest of the platoon. That was so much money to be spending on a training that had only a week left to it. She was too caught up in what Steve would say at work.

As far as she knew, he had heard everything she had said upstairs. She was worried Jerry would spill the beans to Steve. She assumed if Steve knew that he had been lied too, he would probably call the entire thing off and rat her out to management no matter how much this benefited him.

“Hey can I buy those black fence net halter top and g-strings from you? I'll give you a hundie?” Buford offered as Bill finalized his purchase.

“You own the store, you can have as many as you like?”

“No man, the ones they wore.” Buford was giggling like a school boy.

“Yes, dig through the bags and thank Buford for his help today.” Bill hadn't understood Wendy's concern about Jerry yet, and continued to expect the same level of humility from his two bitches.

Jamie was the first to find one of the bikinis and brought it to him joyfully. She kneeled on one foot and offered it to him the way a fairy princess might offer a knight a magic sword. “Thank you Sir, for being so thoughtful in helping my father and brother find everything they came here for. I appreciate your understanding about our discipline and even though I did not get my affirmation, I am pleased you think it is 'groovy'”. She used his description at the end emphasizing the word with a cute smile.

“Oh wow, that is fucking groovy. I forgot you didn't get your affirmation too. I am sorry about that, man.” Buford's face was overjoyed despite his genuine apology.

Wendy was more reluctant. She had this feeling in the pit of her stomach that she needed to address things with Jerry before they left. She had only a short time earlier stood naked in a dumpster to suck dicks and then snowballed the cum into her daughter's mouth. Even though that had bothered her, she was able to do it and put on as happy and positive a face as she could. She couldn't mask her disgust as easily as Jamie who could stay positive no matter how much metaphoric shit got stepped in. She was having a hard time understanding why continuing to play this twisted submissive game in front of Jerry made her feel like throwing up.

As her daughter stood up to finish her curtsy, Wendy looked at Jerry who only sighed in disgust. She was hoping he would give her a lustful stare or some sign it was okay to humiliate herself this way. His expression only made Wendy feel more guilty about doing it in front of him. If he WANTED to see it, it would have been easier to do this in front of him. She gulped a breath for confidence and took a knee just as her daughter did.

“Buford, please enjoy this bikini that I wore earlier. I hope that it amuses you. You have been a kind and gracious man and I have enjoyed meeting you.”

“How do you know you wore this one?” Buford grinned.

Wendy was confused. “I don't know for sure, Sir.”

“Can you tell by smell?” He put the panties to his nose and took a deep whiff. His face was like Winnie the pooh opening a fresh pot of honey as he inhaled a big whiff.

“No Sir.”

“This one is yours.” He smiled as if he were inhaling ambrosia and not the musky cream of  pussy and ass sweat.

“How do you know that Buford?” Chris was curious.

Jerry was getting impatient. “You can take it outside if you have too, Buford. C'mon, out of the store.”

Buford ignored him and explained how each girl's flesh colored inserts had been arranged before they were put inside from memory.

“He has a photographic memory about some things.” Jerry had his hands on his hips. He was patient with Buford as if dealing with an unruly child (who just happens to be your boss).

“We noticed.” Bill answered Jerry. As far as Bill was concerned, Jerry was being a bit of a kill joy but he wasn't any different than Wilbur or any of the other strangers that he had seen at the store.

Wendy was quietly agonizing over tonight's scenario. She kept a straight face but inside she was in shambles.

“Did you think I could tell by smell or something?” Buford  flashed his tongue like he was licking imaginary pussy and made the sign of the devil with his fingers.

“No, because you haven't smelled their pussies and asses.” Chris reminded him.

“Oh, could I?” Buford exuded excitement.

“They have on chastity belts right now, or else you could, remember?” Chris said, knocking on the steel plating covering his sister's pussy.

Buford smiled broadly, “I didn't forget.” He said as if that was the strangest question he had ever heard. He handed Bill a crumpled up hundred dollar bill he took from his jeans for the bikinis.

Bill wasn't sure how much the bikinis had been rung up for. He assumed that he had just profited as he put the cash in his pocket. He had places he needed to be and he was getting bored. “Actually, we are really running behind. I'd love to stay and chat, but we really have to go.”

“I'll get your cell phone.” Jerry's tone was depressed. He went with the family into the parking lot. Buford tagged along out the door like a lost puppy following whoever had pet him last.

“Do either of you two sluts need to piss or shit? Your last chance before I drop you off for your date and you for your cunt stunt.” Bill said loudly. It was dark in the parking lot now. The mega store was on a lonely highway outside of town. It was surrounded by trees and one small convenience store nearby that wasn't very busy. There were only a half a dozen cars in the parking lot.

Jamie bit her lip “I do sir, the plug in the chastity belt is pushing on my bladder or something. I feel like I have to shit and piss, both.” She fought the urge not to scrunch her nose when she said 'shit' out loud. She was still not used to saying that word around people. It had become easier around her father and brother. It still seemed crude, but now that Buford was watching with rapt attention it felt naughty.

One of the requirements from the very start of the training was that they not sugar-coat the words, and she had to say “Shit” if she really did have too. If it was only 'piss' then she was to only say 'piss'. She had been punished for saying them both and only having to pee last Tuesday. She wouldn't make that mistake again.

Jerry was bent over in the back seat of his car rifling through trash to find the cell phone. It was quiet enough he could hear every word that was being said.

“You couldn't tell us before you went in?” Bill had only asked as a formality. He wanted to get on the road as soon as the girls finished loading the packages onto the truck.

“No sir, the belt..” Jamie started to explain but she was cut off before she could continue.

“What about you Cow Tits? Need to empty that big asshole and cunt of yours?”

“Yeah mom, you are so full of shit. I bet you've got to pump out a hot one.” Chris piled on to what his Dad said.

Jerry emerged from his car holding Wendy's cell phone. He whispered to himself “Full of shit - that IS about right.”

It was quiet enough that everyone could hear him mumble under his breath.

“No Sir, I don't have to go.” Wendy lied. The plug was doing a number on her sphincter or colon or whatever signaled her brain that it was time to go poop.

“So if I stuck a finger up your ass, I won't pull back a dollop of peanut butter?” Bill asked skeptically. He had been grossed out by this aspect of training after the first time he had stuck his finger into his wife's ass and pulled out a brown finger. His son had delighted in it and he was happy to leave it to him.

“You might Sir, I have a dirty ass.” Her voice was cracking with a little more fear than usual.

Bill could sense there was something more than usual going on in Wendy's head but he wasn't sure what it was. He did not want to get into it all right now with her, he felt it could wait until later. “So did you lie?” Bill enjoyed using the same kind of logic she had used on him and Chris when she had been in charge of them.

He got a big charge out of playing with her in the exact same way he remembered her doing to him. She would demand to know if he had been masturbating to porn on the internet and when he lied and said no, she would catch him. She would insist he look at some and if he didn't get hard she would know he had been lying. He had hated that feeling of being caught in his own lies.

“Why wouldn't she lie? Isn't that what she does?” Jerry mumbled to himself as he handed the cell phone to Bill, who was clearly in charge.

“You seem to have a problem with my wife. Is there something I should know?” Bill instantly regretted asking the question. He didn't want to open up the can of worms since he needed to be at the stadium. He knew a few back woods shortcuts that he hoped could buy him some time.

“It is nothing.” Jerry passively aggressively shook his head. Even as oblivious as Bill could be about reading between the lines he could tell there was something. “If you want to take them to the bathroom inside, that is fine.”

“If you don't mind, actually they are going to squat in the back of my truck. No one will see.” Bill asked.

“I don't care what you do out in the parking lot. Knock yourself out.” Jerry sounded powerless as he answered Bill.

“Hot damn!! can I watch this?” Buford was hopping up and down. “You don't mind?”

Jamie and Wendy had been observed every time they had to relieve themselves all week. Despite the fact it was dark and there were almost no cars on the lonely two lane highway, it still made both of them nervous to do it in the back of the truck. Jamie was far less worried than her mother.

“No sir, I don't mind if you watch, if that is what you want to see. It is up to my owners.” Jamie sounded submissive and sweet. There was only a trace of urgency as she shifted from foot to foot. That could have been a need to pee, or the after-effects of the Slimax jelly that had been rubbed all over her pussy and ass.

Wendy was quietly waiting to be told what to do when Chris smacked his mother on the ass. Jerry winced more than Wendy did when he heard that loud slap on her perfect ass. “What about you, Cow Tits? Do you mind if they watch you take a squirt and a dump?”

Wendy was startled awake from her thoughts about what Jerry would say when she got to work on Monday. “Jerry and Buford are my betters, if they take an interest in watching me do something, it is flattering.” Wendy didn’t feel very good about her answer but it satisfied Bill and Chris.

“Step out of the skirts, you keep can keep your shirts on.” Bill instructed. He was still hoping to catch the half time show at the game, so he pragmatically decided to make this exercise short.

“I’m going back inside, I’ll uh, see you guys later” Jerry was used to being ignored so he didn’t wait for a response before walking back towards the store.

“Wait, you should watch this!” Buford was beside himself with pleasure. “Do they mind taking their tops off?” he smiled giddily.

“No sir, if you want to see my titties that is fine with me.” Jamie answered reflexively. She didn’t understand why she needed her top off to pee, but he had already been looking at her boobs all night. She looked at her dad and brother for confirmation before peeling off her top along with her mother.

Buford was rubbing his hands together “Hot Damn!”.

Jerry reluctantly returned at his boss’s request. “I don’t feel comfortable being out here, Buford. I don’t think the blonde one is even eighteen.”

“She said she was 18.” Buford said confidently, becoming lucid for just a short time. “I would ask her for an ID but the only thing she has on is a chastity belt that we sold her. If she wasn’t 18, we wouldn’t have sold it to her, would we?”

Jerry found it easier to just nod and agree.

Jamie and Wendy were naked except for the chastity belt, heels and collar they had on. The headlights of a car appeared in the distance coming toward them along the dark, lonely highway.

“May we hide behind the truck, Sir?” Wendy asked.

“Are you afraid someone may see your precious titties?” Bill replied, answering her question with one of his own.

“No Sir, but the rules were no public nudity without a dare or letters.”

“This is pretty secluded.” Bill sighed before reluctantly letting the two assemble on the side of the truck facing the store. The car passed by without slowing down. “Big babies”.

“They do look like babies in metal diapers.” Buford was ecstatic. “Do they mind sucking their thumbs?”

“Yeah, they mind, because we need to get them to piss and shit and get on the road.” Bill was curt with Buford.

“I am sorry, man!” Buford’s feelings were hurt.

“Look, do you want to unlock them, how is that?”

“YES!!” Buford was once again on top of the world. He unlocked Jamie and then Wendy from behind letting them slide their chastity belts down. It wasn’t easy, they both had to un-impale themselves on the bulbed metal butt plug that held the chastity belt in place. There were six rounded orbs in the plug so that each one felt like a tiny ‘ploop’ on their backdoor as they rose off of it.

“Take it all the way off, Sir?” Jamie asked her father.

“How come no one asks me anything?” Chris demanded.

“I am SOOO sorry, Sir. It wasn’t my intention to ignore you!” Jamie was truly apologetic to her brother. She had been deferring to her dad since he had been the one to call the shots tonight.

“Mom, if we check your mud flaps, are we going to pull back some mud?” Chris asked.

“Yes Sir, probably.” She couldn’t even look in Jerry’s direction she was so embarrassed. She had played this game of humiliation at home and in front of others, but she was feeling even more disgusted with herself than usual.

“What’s that? I can’t hear you. I think you might need an attitude adjustment to help you give respectful and informative answers?”

Wendy had finished the final metal ball and unhooked her anus from the plug in back. She took a deep breath. “I am so sorry, Sir. I meant that yes, if you put a finger up my asshole, you would most likely find a turd up there.”

“You don’t sound sure. Are you sure?” Chris asked sadistically.

“No sir, I am not sure.” Wendy admitted.

“Then reach back there with one finger, shove it up your ass and remove all doubt. That way you aren’t guessing when you talk to me.” Chris said harshly.

“Can Jamie check Wendy? And Wendy check Jamie?” Buford asked hopefully.

“I like how you think. Yes. Do it that way?”

Wendy and Jamie sized each other up awkwardly before standing hip to hip facing in opposite directions. Jamie was first to put a finger between her mom’s ass cheeks and invade her butthole. Wendy did the same.

She felt a tingle in her pussy as Jamie’s nail scraped her ass, and then pushed its way inside delicately probing.

“Don’t make out. Get it up and in there!” Bill took control, pushing both wrists so that their fingers were further inside. “Go as deep as you would in your own ass, all the way to the knuckle.”

“Wow, your daughter is so beautiful; her eyes sparkle in the lights of the parking lot.” Buford paid Jamie a complement. Moths danced around the only flickering lamp pole nearby as it shone down on the pair.

“Thank you Sir, that’s very…” Jamie stopped talking and opened her mouth as if to sing opera and without thinking about it put her free hand on her bald pussy lips. She took it away quickly as she realized what she had done. “Oh I am so sorry, I wasn’t playing with myself. I was scratching.” She lied apologetically.

Jamie was used to hearing how pretty and bright her eyes were, but right now it was genuinely comforting even considering all the circumstances. She used to be unable to accept the compliment, now she was learning to appreciate any kindness and attention directed her way.

“You filthy girl, were you turned on just now?”

Jamie knew the consequences of pretending she wasn’t wet. “I am sorry Sir, with the jelly and the finger inside me, and the night air on my naked body.” She said as if that explained her reaction.

“Inside you where?”

“Up my ass, Sorry Sir! I am sorry for not being more explicit and honest in my answers.” She knew she was supposed to be more explicit in her speech but old habits die hard. It was a genuine mistake.

“And what about this night air, you like being naked outside?” Chris laughed.

“Kind of? I mean it is kind of an adventure.” She admitted honestly. “I accept my punishment, Sir. I should not have taken my hand and touched my pussy, especially in front of your friends. That shows a lack of self-control and discipline.”

“It also makes you seem like a pig who is out here with a finger up her ass loving it, instead of learning from it. Are you ready to pull your finger out and sniff it?”

“Yes Sir.” The girls answered in unison, delighting Buford in the process.

“What do you smell on your fingers?”

“Ass and shit, Sir.”

“I thought your shit doesn’t stink and you are perfect?”

“No Sir, we used to act that way. You taught us we are full of shit.” Wendy and Jamie both answered in almost perfect unison. Buford was still extremely impressed.

Chris looked over their fingers and announced that they were, “Two quarts low on oil,” after he “checked their dipstick.” and then gave them permission to clean their fingers off.

The girls knew this meant sucking on their own finger until told to stop.

“Tomorrow as part of your punishment, you are going to beg Mrs. Waxerman to use HER lawnmower, or you are cutting the grass by hand. You would get a more appropriate punishment right now if we weren’t in such a hurry.” Bill declared.

“Thank you Sir!” Jamie said with one finger still awkwardly in her mouth.

“I bet she gives the guys at her school a boner all of the time!” Buford danced excitedly. “What University does she attend?”

“I am still in High School, Sir.” Jamie answered. She suddenly realized that blew her “I am 18” story. She silently kicked herself for being such a bad liar. “I am such a dummy, I’ve been attending Cherry Lawn on the five year plan.”

“Yeah, me too,” Chris smirked at his sister’s comment. He really WAS on the five year plan. He didn’t let it bother him, assuming she was trying to cover for her lie.

If Buford noticed the lie, he didn’t let on. He was blissfully rocking out to his own air guitar while the girls stood in front of him almost naked sucking their fingers. “Cherry Lawn, I think I went there.”

Chris handed them both paper cups, “Two Girls, Two Cups!” a reference to one of the most disgusting web videos he had ever seen. “Try not to miss the cup.” He laughed mocking them.

Wendy was first to set the cup down and squat over it, soon followed by her daughter. In a moment, the guys could hear their pee streams filling the paper Arby’s cups.

“Milk, Milk, Lemonade!” Buford pointed first at Wendy’s two tits, and then her pussy. As he heard the crinkle crackle of her shit push out of her ass he pointed and exclaimed “Around the corner fudge is made!”

He clapped his hands with glee as he hopped up and down watching the two girls piss and shit in the darkened parking lot.

“Jerry, go get two of those long pink shirts, you know the ones?” Buford seemed lucid once again but his excitement hadn’t waned.

“Okay Buford. This is going to be comp’d I take it?”

“Oh yeah!! Free!! I love it.” Buford became more manic and excited when he heard the shirts would be complementary. “I want to give you guys a gift, and it won’t cost you anything. I should have thought of this when we were inside, but I forgot.”. Bill and Chris weren’t sure why Buford was so excited but they had grown to accept he was easily impressed right after they met him.

“I don’t understand. I thought you had a photographic memory?” Chris asked as he watched his sister and mother grunt and strain to finish shitting in their cups.

“What gave you that idea?” Buford sounded confused but still excited.

“Just back in the store, you told us every detail about all of your products, the price, the weight, everything.”

“I did?” he seemed impressed with himself.

Chris began to realize that Buford was several cards short of a full deck. He knew there was something wrong with him, but until just then he had thought he was more eccentric than crazy.  “I guess the difference between crazy and eccentric is how much money you have.” He thought to himself.

“Thank you, Dude!!” Buford took the shirts from Jerry when he returned and unfolded one to show Bill. “Milk, Milk” Buford pointed to two milk jugs that were pictured where boobs would go. “Lemonade” Buford pointed to the pitcher of lemonade right in front of the pussy. Then he turned around the nightgown and pointed to the bar of fudge “Around the corner, fudge is made!”

“Oh thank you, but we have no use for these. Our girls sleep nude.” Bill said dismissively.

“Oh damn, I am so sorry!!” He apologized to the Taylors as if he had just hurt their feelings beyond all repair.

“No it’s okay. We’ll find some use for them, thank you. It is very kind of you.” Bill took the shirts and then handed them to Chris. “Thank you for everything.”

“I feel so bad. Jamie didn’t get to do her affirmation, I picked the wrong shirts. I am so sorry!” Buford was easy to please but just as quick to get extremely sad and apologetic. He seemed to be beating himself up about it.

“Pick up those cups, you’ll carry them on the truck with you. You can smell them until we drop you off.” Bill demanded.

“Dad, don’t you think with the wind and everything it might blow on their faces?

Bill enjoyed the mental image of them getting blasted with their own filth before deciding that was impractical. “Good call, Son. Let’s get them locked back in their belts and they can throw them away. You girls are lucky Chris is in a more caring mood than I am tonight.”

Jerry was used to being forgotten and left out of conversations. He made no attempt to insert himself into them as a result. It was all he could do to interrupt “Hey boss, my shift is over. Do you need a ride home?”

Buford didn’t seem excited about that. “I’d like to stay and watch them get back on the belts. Don’t they need toilet paper?”

“They are used to ‘air drying’” Chris spread his hands out to emphasize what he was saying. “Why is that mom?”

“Because I was too cheap to buy 4-ply toilet paper when I controlled the finances of the house for the men, and now I am being taught what it is like to go without the privilege of using toilet paper, Sir.” Wendy had that drilled into her head during affirmations at home. He prodded her to continue and she added “We are pigs, so there is no point in wasting toilet paper on our comfort and happiness if it amuses you to see us with wet sticky asses, Sir.”

“Do you need more slimax?”

“NO!” they both replied adding Sir as an afterthought. Bill and Chris just laughed at how clearly neither of them wanted more of the lubricant. It induced orgasms, but in ways that burned and tingled. They both slid back on their chastity belts.

Jamie made a face like she was saying “FFFFffff” as she closed her eyes and guided each metal bubble of the anal plug back up her ass to put the belt on.

Her mom had a much easier time of it because of the hole training she endured at work. It was cold and painful, but she found she was a lot more prepared for it than she would have been earlier in the week. She was surprised how well her daughter was taking it, considering she hadn’t been trained the same way. She wondered for an instant if things were happening at school to Jamie much like they did at her work. She dismissed that idea assuming there was no way things could get that extreme at a school unnoticed

In the back of her mind, she wondered how they had gone unnoticed at her work. She was making the connection if it could happen there, then maybe it had happened to Jamie. How else could she have sucked six dicks and swapped the cum in her mother’s mouth and not freaked out? She tried to banish those doubts from her mind that her daughter was lying to her. Guilt was eating her up, because she was lying to her daughter.

They put their skimpy clothes back on and ended Buford’s personal show.

“Oh fuck, look at the time. Chris, do you think the guy who is dating your mom will mind if we are a little late? I can’t make it to 42nd Terrace and to the High school in the time we have left.”

“Actually, I am going by 42nd Terrace.” Jerry volunteered when he heard the street address.

Bill even with his own limited ability to read between the lines knew that Jerry had a beef with his wife of some kind. He was going to thank Jerry and decline the offer. He had only been complaining out loud to make it sound as if he was running all over town for the benefit of his wife and daughter.

“That would be great. Can you supervise my mom on her way to the date, this is her first one, but I can call while she is riding with you and give her all the instructions she needs.”

“You people are really serious about this? I thought this was some kind of twisted game, but I think you are serious?” Jerry visibly appeared taken aback by Chris’s request and his own observation.

“Yes, obviously we are serious.” Chris didn’t understand Jerry’s concern. He had never met the man and had no idea what had gone on at his mom’s job earlier in the day. He was only wondering if when he was acting shy, did people see him with the same sort of pity and disdain Chris was looking at Jerry with.

“I can take her.” Jerry sighed. He didn’t want to admit he was curious what the real story was now that he knew Wendy had been lying to him at work. He shrugged his shoulders and made it seem like it was an imposition that he would endure. No one picked up on Jerry’s body language since he came across like a sad sack who endured life’s imposition all of the time anyway.

“Could I ride with you?” Buford asked of Bill excitedly.

“Where are you going?” Bill responded.

“Anywhere you are.”

“Okay, there are only two seats in the front cab though.” As Bill was explaining why he’d prefer Buford ride with Jerry, Buford began to dance for joy.

“I get to ride in the back! Oh hell yeah!”

Bill smirked, “Sure, I can’t see why not.”

He marched his daughter into the back of the truck with Buford to keep her company.

Jerry was still standing in the parking lot looking at Wendy with disdain for how she was dressed.

“You don’t care if a stranger takes your wife some place?” he asked Bill. Bill was only half paying attention as he secured his purchases in the truck.

“I do care, Jerry. My wife says she knows you from work, right?”

“True.”

“That means I’d know how to find you if something happened to her. What do you think I would do if you did something to my pretty little wife?”

“Okay, I see your point.” Jerry was looking at the ground, unable to return Bill’s gaze.

“Don’t be so glum about it. You want to have a little fun at my wife’s expense, tell her to suck your cock for the privilege of riding in your car. She will do it.” Bill glared at his wife to imply it was an order.

“That is just it, I feel like she isn’t doing it because she wants too. She is doing it because guys like you and Steve tell her too.” Jerry’s tone was wrapped up in pity for himself.

Bill could relate to the guy on some level. He used to feel sorry for himself too. He just didn’t have the time or interest to listen to, much less fix this guy’s problems right now.

“Listen, I’d love to talk to you more Jerry.” Bill said in a tone that implied “but I have to go” without having to say it. “I am going to trust my wife with you. If you can keep her in line, we’ll talk. If you want to be her handler at work instead of Steve, I am fine with that. Get my number from my wife.” Bill slapped one of the keys to the chastity belt into Jerry's hand and started walking away.

“That is just it. I don’t understand why she needs a handler?” Jerry asked futilely as Bill walked away.

Bill waved, “Ask my wife, she’ll tell you.” As Bill stepped into the truck to start it up he looked directly at his wife.

“Tell him the truth, I’ll know if you lied!” 

Bill revved up his truck and sped off to take Jamie to her cheerleading swan song at the big game between Cherry Lawn Trojans and their rival the Union Country Rams.

“Well, this is awkward, Sir.” Wendy looked at Jerry after watching her family drive away with Buford leaving her in the parking lot of a porn store with her co-worker.

The Family Feud III

Chapter Twenty-Nine
“You can lead a horticulture, but first you have to trim her bush”

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 36
Get out of jail cards: 1
WHORE: 1,3,1,0,0
JAMIE: 39
Get out of jail cards: 1
WHORE: 1,3,1,0,0

**Note to reader: This is Wendy’s journal from Friday Night detailing the events of approximately 7pm when she got in the car with Jerry for her first date. Some of Wendy’s journal was altered to protect the name of the corporation and some of the employee’s identities. In order to increase readability, some of the dialogue exchanged was altered to appear in a ‘narrative’ story format.

I felt impossibly small. I wanted to crawl under the belly of an ant and hide from a world that did nothing but rain piss down on me. Here I was in Jerry’s car dressed like a hoochie mama in a purple skirt, yellow tube top and red ‘fuck-me’ pumps and now shifting uncomfortably in a chastity belt that chafed in ways I was just beginning to understand.

I had my cell phone in my lap and that stinky Arby’s cup filled with my poop. I felt like my life was right inside that cup. We had been having a vicarious kind of fun earlier in the night. It wasn’t what I would call ‘traditional family fun night’ like backgammon and table tennis.

Jamie and I had been able to make each other laugh through some of what is now and will most likely forever be known as “Taylor Family Fun Nights”. Naked behind a store, Naked inside a store, we had been facing all sorts of fears and insecurities and met them head long.

Alone with Jerry in his car, the mood had changed. It had become serious and dreary, much like him.

There was a quiet pause as Jerry pulled out onto the highway to drive back towards town. He flicked on his radio, and of course it was tuned to the weather channel. What else would a boring person like Jerry listen to in his car where he could clearly see the weather outside his window than an update on the weather?

I stifled an urge to tease and ask ‘Arrrr, are ye a sailing captain. Need the latest report on the storms that arrrrr brewin’. That is something I might have done if I had discovered Bill listening to the weather. Thankfully I don’t think even he is THAT anal retentive.

Jerry flicked to another station as if he realized how lame his initial choice was. I think he had it on the AM radio band. Who still listens to AM radio? Jerry Cooper, I guess.

fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa

fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa

I keep singin' them sad sad song y'all,

Sad song is of all I know.

I keep singin' them sad sad song y'all,

Sad song is all I know.

It has a sweet melody, tonight,

anybody can sing it, any old time

The soulful sounds of Otis Redding came out of Jerry’s old radio almost as if it was narrating his sad, lonely life.

“Would you like me to suck your dick, Sir?” I offered hopefully. Bill had given me our unspoken order that I needed to finish what I started. As much as I loathe the little man, having something to do right then would have been worth the disgusting humiliation of bending over and sucking him off.

“No, I want to talk.”

“I was afraid of that, Sir.”

“I bet you were. First, I want you to drop the Sir business. You don’t’ really mean it. You don’t see me as your superior.”

It was true. I didn’t see him as my better. That was true of a lot of people I had served, but Jerry was high on the list of people low on my respect list.

I was supposed to be putting him above me and I was still willing to give it the old college try. “You are now a key holder. That makes you my handler. You are my superior in every way, Sir. If you don’t want me to call you Sir when we are alone, will you promise not to tell Bill?”

“Seems you like to keep a lot of secrets from him.” Jerry didn’t answer my question. I have always hated when people did that, especially Bill.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Sir.” I explained. “I just meant if I break with my protocols, I hope you will tell him it’s because I was ordered to stop and not get me in more trouble than I already am?”

“Sure, whatever.” Jerry fidgeted with his radio to control the static.

“So where do you want me to start?” I almost said ‘Sir’ anyway. Even though I don’t have to say it at work, it has become such a habit that it is hard to stop when I’ve been doing it for a few hours.

“You can start at the beginning and the truth, this time.” Jerry sounded like he was pissed at the world for constantly deceiving him and I felt like the personification of that deceit at that particular moment.

“Mine is a long story to tell, Jerry.” I smiled as I pictured how many chapters it would take just to tell up to this point in my life and there was so much more to go. The past few months had been the strangest point in my life. I’d probably skip all the early part and start with how I gave Bill the ultimatum to change that began this odyssey of power exchange between us.

“I heard you talking in the BDSM parlor upstairs. I understood most of it. That is all true?”

“My affirmation?” I knew what he meant, but I was stalling to give myself time to think about everything I had gone over. “I believe you heard my confession that I overstepped my boundaries at home?”

He nodded at me. “Yeah, it sounded like some kind of family feud. The girls against the guys.”

I told him that was a good way to put it.  I explained how I had the best of intentions when I began. I wanted them to get healthy, take responsibility for what they did wrong. I wanted them to try harder, aim higher, and take the traditional roles of men around the house. I didn’t mind cleaning up, but I was tired of cleaning up after them and they not showing appreciation or any desire to clean up after themselves.

I was careful not to illustrate Bill’s shortcomings too much. I was sensitive to the fact that Jerry seemed to have much of the same traits Bill had before our ‘Family Feud’. This past week, instead of rushing off to Pilates, book clubs and power walking I had spent a lot of time immobile and bound up in the living room with nothing else to do but think.

One of the things I had come to realize was Bill’s addiction to porn and the internet in general was a symptom of a bigger problem. He was using the porn as a substitute for an unsatisfying and uninteresting sex life. Exercise (and surgery) gave me a fantastic body, but being in the bed with me at night wasn’t very rewarding to him.

His desire to get on the internet and argue with people about history, sports, computer games, that was another symptom. He would take out his aggression by fighting anonymously with other cyber warriors. On the internet, they could say things to each other they would never have said if they were having a beer and talking face to face.

Bill’s nature to compete and dominate had been subverted by the internet. He had used it as a conduit and a release for his desires because it was always available. Unlike me who was at my job or working out, his internet was always there when he needed it. He could turn it on with a flick of a switch and it rarely if ever refused him. Resetting the cable box was all he needed most of the time to remedy the situation.

I skirted around those observations with Jerry because I sensed it would only make him hate me more if I reminded him of his many, many flaws. I don’t know why he hated me in the first place. I was willing to suck his dick and be compliant and yet he had this contempt for me.

It made me want his approval. I am not sure why, but I could feel a desire inside me emerge to get him to understand and accept my decisions.

I began to explain how once I identified the problem, the initial solutions I tried didn’t work. Bill and Chris weren’t changing and they snuck back on the computer and were lazy whenever they weren’t supervised.

I couldn’t satisfactorily pinpoint the moment or reason things got very weird at home. At some point we went from good-natured,  peer-pressure and taunting to keeping them naked and humiliating them. I think it was when they came home from Rahjid’s motel broke and begging to return home. They couldn’t hack it in the real world on their own without me to ‘mommy’ them.

They hadn’t washed any of their clothes and they were soaked in the outfits they did have on. I insisted they strip and somehow that became the new rule of the house that they stay that way. I can’t explain why. I started to justify why I did it by making them exercise and see their flabby and disgusting bodies as they did. I was going to shame them into getting healthy so they could thank me for living longer and developing better habits.

I remembered when I came up with the leash and why. They would walk around hard as if they were proud of their accomplishment, with their dicks bobbing up and down.

I felt like they were flaunting a subtle kind of disobedience. They were smiling as Jamie and I could see their throbbing member and I decided that if I could keep their balls high and tight, they wouldn’t be able to do that anymore.

Applying a leash to the cock didn’t stop their hard-ons. In Chris’s case it only intensified it. I knew they were jacking off several times a day when I wasn’t watching them even during this training. Chris  had a disgusting knee-sock that he made love too several times a day.

I decided if they were going to masturbate and I knew about it anyway, I may as well make them do it often enough that they didn’t have any desire to do it when I wasn’t around. I decided to make it humiliating and shameful enough that they wouldn’t WANT to do it when I was not around.

In the process of all of these good intentions, I lost myself and became a monster. I sucked Jamie into it with me and let her pull her brother around by a leash. I didn’t LET her, I encouraged her to do it, I admitted to Jerry.

He seemed quietly turned on by my story. I considered that progress to be turned on instead of contempt.

I told him about the party and how we were busted by one of Jamie’s friends who knew exactly what was going on.  He seemed particularly interested in that, but I tried to explain that our reasons for agreeing to this was to give the men closure and payback.

He did not believe me.

“Women exist to take from men, and to give them pain.”

“I am sorry you feel that way, Jerry.”

“My wife,” He stopped himself,  “My Ex-wife has my house, everything I ever owned. I have to drop off a check tonight because I am behind on child support that she does not need. She is dating a guy and they live together. They won’t get married because they want my support check. That guy pushes my lawn mower, probably drives my old suits.” He was angry at the man who he felt ‘replaced’ him in his ex-wife’s life.

I wanted to joke that he was also fucking her as well, but I knew that wouldn’t win me any brownie points. I wanted to give him some advice about getting closure on his ex-wife and closing that chapter in his life. Who would take advice from a woman dressed as a whore carrying an Arby’s cup with her turd inside?

He made me continue with the story of how I ended up a slave to my son and husband. I have to admit when I tell it, sometimes I can’t even believe it.

I explained how Bill had laid out the rules very clearly and why they needed to be different than the rules for males. We had different shortcomings than they did. They had different things they enjoyed than we did. New forms of control and motivation were necessary because men and women are wired so differently.

Bill thought I must not understand that because he often used in our affirmations as a theme about the differences between men and women but I really do accept that.

Jerry seemed to understand the reason for the rules. As an accountant I suppose his world is full of very black and white issues where a rule is needed. “Every time you agree to a rule, you are both giving up control, and gaining protection and guidance.”

He sounded like he neither agreed, nor disagreed with his observation. That was one of the infuriating things about Jerry when he had attended meetings. The person facilitating the meeting was trying to get him to commit to a decision to establish a consensus and Jerry danced around direct questions.

He didn’t do it artfully like Vicky and I did to play a political game of one-upsmanship. We could wait for someone else to put forward a plan and then pick it apart just to see them squirm and agree with our plan.

He did it because it seemed like Jerry’s nature to bumble through life without ever really making his mind up.

Now that I say that, that was my observation about Chris before our ‘family feud’ began.

I think it is probably more fair to say that Jerry is afraid to commit to an idea because he doesn’t want to anger anyone. He is such a small man, he thinks that taking a side is going to seem rude. That probably sounds harsh, but I wonder what is worse? A guy who is too ignorant to know when he has to make his mind up or a guy who is too afraid to make up his mind because he doesn’t want to disagree with anyone?

Stores and buildings were becoming familiar to me as I looked out the window. The past week I had so seldom rode in the front seat of the car and always to and from work. I was usually putting something in my ass or pulling it out at the same time, and it felt weird to sit there quietly and talk. I hate to admit I felt like I was ‘cheating’ and getting away with something I shouldn’t be allowed to do.

I didn’t tell Jerry that. I need to hold some things close to my vest even though I told him I would be honest.

He came to the part he wanted to ask about my daughter. I wanted to clam up completely. Steve had asked me about my daughter earlier in the day and I had been fool enough not to leave it alone. I stirred the hornets’ nest by asking him why he wanted to know. I would try to be more circumspect with Jerry.

“She isn’t really eighteen is she?”

I thought about lying. “She isn’t quite just yet. She is a junior.”

Wow, my son is a freshmen. She goes to Cherry Lawn or private school?”

I didn’t feel comfortable talking about Jamie with him. It is funny that I could suck off two strangers in front of a homeless man and swap cum in her mouth, but when talking about personal details like this my instincts were to clam up.

“Cherry Lawn, my husband is bringing her to the football game tonight. She is a cheerleader.”

“My son used to go to private school, but my ex-wife decided it would toughen him up to put him in public school. Private school was good enough for me!”

I almost laughed and told him I could see why his ex-wife would say that. I suppose despite it all, humility training, obedience, I can still be a sarcastic bitch.

“How do you feel about your daughter serving with you?”

His question was so broad and open ended that I wanted to correct him. Bill and Chris asked me direct questions that I could answer to the point. I was being judgmental and harsh on Jerry and I knew it. I sighed to summon my patience for this conversation with him.

“Okay, sounds like that is a sore topic with you.” He observed.

“It is just that how you ask, I don’t know where to even begin with that question, Sir.” I had slipped in an accidental Sir, but he ignored it.

He was quiet as he thought about his question. “You have sex with her?”

He had gone from very vague to very personal in the blink of an eye. I am sure he could tell from how he caught me off guard that I was reeling from his question.

“No, we don’t” I said without any confidence behind my claims of innocence.

He laughed at my words. I could hear him call me a liar under his breath.

“Okay, obviously we do some things together.” I clarified  “For the amusement of my betters!”

“Okay, if that is what you say.” He was infuriating me by not believing me.

“We suck cock, playing with ourselves around each other.” I couldn’t see it but I felt him rolling his eyes in disbelief.  “Bill isn’t fucking Jamie, if that is what you mean.”

“Why draw a line at all?” His question was more rhetorical than curious.

I answered anyway “There have to be some limits!”

“Why?”

Damn him, I thought to myself. Why does he always ask those questions? Just a blanket “Why?” and then you are expected to blab away until you think you may have satisfied his question. To make matters worse he won’t confirm whether he agrees or disagrees so you are left wondering if you blabbed long enough to make a convincing explanation.

“I know it seems strange that we have limits. We probably seem disgusting and willing to do anything. I admit, I’ve done some things this past week I didn’t think I would ever be willing to do, but Bill knows without limits it would just be chaos. Consequences wouldn’t matter for our behavior if he could beat us for no reason at all. We wouldn’t even bother to try.”

“If you say so.”

It was sapping all of my patience to remain in a submissive role if he wasn’t going to give me a chance to explain. Sure, if it had been Bill he would have shoved something in my mouth if he was tired of listening to me and I would have accepted it. I have to admit, I just have a bias against Jerry. He brings it on himself though.

“So why did you make up all that stuff about being a nymphomaniac at work?”

“Bill needed someone to watch me at work. He was afraid I would work late hours and use it as a way of getting out of the hard work and training I have to do. We made a deal at work that if we could find someone to supervise me, I didn’t have to admit everything I am doing. It’s very embarrassing!” I probably could have left that last sentence off, that should have gone without saying.

“So why Steve, because he is ‘Handsome’?” Jerry said the word ‘handsome’ as if he had just smelled rancid butter.

“It isn’t like that. I don’t know that many people at work that I thought I could trust. Bill offered me to Steve and he became my handler at work.”

“You keep using that word ‘handler’, what does it mean?”

“Bill came up with a hierarchy. He and Chris are at the top, naturally.” I snorted in laughter but humorless Jerry failed to pick up on my little joke (or he ignored it). “Then handlers. People he trusts with a key. If you have it, I am supposed to answer directly to you. Steve can punish me and he sends home reports on my failings at work. In exchange, I gave him my office, do his work and I will help him get promoted.”

“When this is over in a week, you are going to drop him like a sack of potatoes?”

“Not on your life. He has photographs of me sucking off coworkers, and worse. I am going to try my best to keep Steve and everyone I’ve come into contact with through this very, very happy.” I felt cheap and disgusting for saying that, but it was the safest course of action to avoid angering them and stay under the radar.

“Even me?”

“Especially you, you are my handler.” I smiled. I wasn’t sure if it was a fake smile or a genuine one. It could be hard to tell sometimes. “After this is over, I am going to be a changed woman, at the office anyway. I will put my family before my career. I may step down from my role and take something less challenging.”

“Vicky Larson is going to like that.”

He knew about my rivalry with Vicky at the office. I would imagine most people who work there do.

“She is welcome to it. I am trying to re-evaluate my priorities, Sir.” I apologized this time for calling him sir.

“That is okay, I am your handler after all.” He smirked.

I was pleased that his mood had improved. We were almost to 42nd street. “I should call my son to find out the rules for this date.” I announced as I began to scan through the older phone for my son’s number.

“Don’t you think you should ask me permission?” Jerry was amused and he was testing the waters to see if I would let him have authority over me.

“Oh I am sorry Sir, may I please call my son to find out how he wants me to behave for my date, so that I am not a rude girl?” I sounded submissive but like someone who was over-acting the part. I was being playful with him.

Jerry laughed and nodded. He was lightening up his mood. “I thought somehow this was an elaborate joke on me. I guess you are for real. Am I a permanent handler?”

I held up a finger the way people do when they clearly have their phone to their ear and need to talk. I hate when people do that. I didn’t even want to think about his theory that somehow we had gone to a porn store, stripped naked, been humiliated in front of him and done all of this in order to play a joke on HIM?

“Hello?” Chris answered the phone.

“Hi Sir, I am on 42nd Street for my date. Can you give me my instructions?”

He told me the address and who I was supposed to see. He went over Bill’s new rules that we added today and said that he had spoken to the guy who was taking me out.

I asked how Jamie was doing but Chris cut me off. “If I wanted you to know, I would tell you Cunt.” After a short pause he finally said, “We’ll find out soon enough.”

“May I throw this cup away, Sir?” I didn’t even want to look inside the Arby’s cup I was holding.

“Your lemonade and chocolate Sundae? Why would you want to do that?”

“Very funny, sir.” I didn’t answer his question because I honestly didn’t know what to say to that.

“You will carry it for the duration of the date unless you are told otherwise, by your date. I am promoting him to handler for the duration of your first night. I think he gets the jist of things.”

Chris wasn’t particularly filling me with confidence that he had gone over all the ins and outs with me or my blind date. “How do I get home, Sir?”

“Excellent question, He doesn’t have a car and it is going to be late. So he is going to take you to Cambier Park and drop you off.”

“I am just supposed to wander around the park at night, Sir?” I was worried.

“Heavens no!” Chris assured me. “You will thank him for the date, and surrender your clothes to him, so that you aren’t tempted to do that.”

I was hoping Chris was kidding. I am sure my eyes had gone as wide as that young guy who was too afraid to kiss me at the fair.

“He will secure you at the park some place secluded and Dad or I will pick you up before it’s light out. I assure you, no dog walkers will find you.”

“Sir, that is fairly extreme.”

“You want to earn those W’s don’t you slut?”

“Yes Sir” I didn’t sound convincing I am sure.

“I think we are here.” I had been scanning for the street address my son gave me. I asked Jerry very politely to stop and let me out.

“Ask Jerry for the key so you can give it to your date.”

“He wanted to ask you about that.” I was going to ask Jerry’s question about the nature of his being my handler, but my son told me something was going down and he had to go. The line went dead right after.

“Talk about a small world. Your date lives right near my ex-wife. I sure hope it isn’t her boyfriend.” He laughed.

“If it was she would probably leave him. That is good news for you, Sir.” I laughed in response.

He got very serious as if I had just stepped on his toes as he pulled into the drive way of the house I needed to go too.

“If I offended you, I apologize, Sir.” I wasn’t sure what I had said to offend him, but I was genuinely sorry for hurting his feelings which I can honestly say I am not sure I have always been that worried about Jerry’s feelings.

“You make it sound like I can’t get my ex-wife back unless her boyfriend is a total jack ass who cheats on her.” He said wistfully.

As little confidence as he exuded I was inclined to say that might be a true statement. Instead, I diplomatically apologized again as we stepped out of the car.

“You are carrying that cup to your date?” He chuckled.

“Yes Sir, my son’s orders.” I shrugged to imply I wasn’t sure why he wanted me to do it either. I knew it was to humiliate me, that much was obvious.

“You never met this guy?” He seemed to be dragging out the conversation as we stood on the driveway of my date’s house.

“No Sir, it’s my first ‘date’. Jamie has been on several, but I didn’t have to until tonight.”

“What changed?”

“I really do have to go, Sir.” I needed to excuse myself. I could be punished by my date for being late.

He offered me an awkward hug. I accepted and it felt like he was being clingy which only made me pity him a little more for his loneliness.

“I hate to ask this, Sir.” I swallowed.

“You want me to punish you before your date?” He laughed.

“No, sir.” I tried to be sensitive to how I was about to say what I had to say.

“You want to suck my dick real fast?” He was in a good mood and I felt he probably would have let me this time.

“No Sir, I have to ask for the key back. My son wants me to present it to my date.”

I saw his smiling face evolve from happy, to confused, to ‘what the fuck?’ to disappointed and then to angry for a brief moment before returning to the wounded and skeptical Eeyore he presented to the world.

“I tried to ask him if you could be a permanent handler, Sir. I promise I’ll ask him in the morning. I’d rather you than Steve!” I promised him. “It’s just that without the key, I can’t pee or shit if I need too.”

His skepticism remained and he asked “You would really rather have me than Steve?”

The question made me feel like he needed constant reassurance. “Please Sir, let me get to my date before I get punished.”

“Sure, fine.” He handed me the key as we walked up the steps to my date’s door.

“You don’t have to escort me all the way to do the door. It might make him nervous, Sir.” I was clutching my cell phone and the Arby’s cup. If anyone was nervous, it would be me.

“I thought you were walking me to the door.” Jerry looked at me as if by staring intently he could discern whether or not I was lying.

“Is your wife’s boyfriend named Sheldon?”

“Sheldon!?” he exclaimed.

The door opened and out came a boy who couldn’t be much older than Gerald. I should have known Chris would set me up with one of his friends from school. I thought perhaps he had some craigslist hook up that he had advertised me on.

I am sure the smile on my face looked ridiculous and fake.

“My son?”

Sheldon looked at his Dad and then back at me. The thought that ran through my mind was a vision of the two nerds who had invented a hot girl with their computer in the movie ‘Weird Science’. She was supposed to fulfill their every wish.

Sheldon looked every bit the part of Wyatt. He was the one with the sadistic older brother who said “You spit in this?”

It makes me feel old to say this but that movie came out when I was still in high school. My older sister whose name just happened to be Lisa like Kelly LeBrock’s character in that movie used to dress and sometimes even act just like her. She always had so much confidence and sex appeal, but what I remember most of all was the big hair and shoulder pads.

My younger brother would quote the movie, usually the lines from the older brother. “Looks pretty good, now make your own! Dick Weed.”

My brother could be where Chris gets his strange sense of humor from. I can’t imagine a quote like that making me laugh now that I am older. That isn’t true I suppose. Chris can crack me up with some of his crude jokes.

Sheldon’s mother was at the door along with what must have been her boyfriend. They were more interested in why Jerry was running behind with his child support check and launched into a shrewful tirade about how he had made them wait for the check and he should have mailed it instead of bringing it over this late.

I felt a little sorry for Jerry, but considering what awaited me tonight I probably should have wished to trade places with the poor little man. I stood there feeling completely out of place, but being ignored by their domestic squabble. I suppose I should be thankful to have never gone through a messy divorce.

Sheldon led me away from his house by my hand like a perfect gentleman.

“Won’t your mother wonder why a woman her age is leaving with you?”

“I told her you were taking me to a birthday party for your daughter.” I rolled my eyes, but he didn’t see. I could picture my son’s face picturing my face right now. I bet he had a pretty good laugh at my expense.

I felt disgusted to be involved in that lie. I suppose I should be realistic, it’s not like his parents would be as dumb as Gerald’s parents to think a much older girl like my daughter would be interested in their son.

Their older son, now that was a catch and a half. I probably shouldn’t be such a shallow person, but if Chris had brought a girl like Jamie home when he was in 8th grade I would have known something was wrong immediately.

“So where are we going, Sir?”

“Hand over your key.”

I was reluctant to give it to him. I had never met him before and part of me suspected once he got it he would just say, “Ha ha, I got you now bitch!”  as he showed it to me and then ran for who knows where to leave me stranded all night.

The security blanket of having a purse and knowing I have my house keys and can get into my house, or the ATM card so I can get cash as I need it is a wonderful thing. I felt vulnerable without them.

“Chris said you would be like this. He told me to establish who was the boss right away.”

I hid my smile. This pimple faced kid was telling me he was going to establish who is boss? Only if I let him. He had just told me what he was going to do before he did it. I didn’t get to my position at work by being easily manipulated and out negotiated.

He produced a thin aluminum rod he must have shaped from a coat hanger. He must have been carrying it with him and sliced into the back of my leg with it several times.

I yelped in surprised and tried to block the surprise attack to my rear with my hands.

“He said you would do that too.”

“When my son punishes me, it is because I did something bad. It isn’t just a random attack.” I rubbed my sore leg.

-Swack-

“That is for not calling me Sir!”

He had me there, I hadn’t called him Sir. I nodded my acceptance of that swat as we walked down the sidewalk on 42nd street.

“May I ask where we are going, Sir?” I had been enjoying the silence and the night air, but my mind was buzzing with questions. I think most of all, I was worried about what was happening to Jamie at the high school right then.

“I am going to set the tone for who is boss.”

“How are you going to do that, Sir?”

-Swack- Another strike to the back of my legs.

“When I want you to know, you will know.” He was pretending to be tough, possibly even sophisticated. This was in stark contrast to his father’s lack of confidence. I was surprised such a skinny and nerdy kid had developed that much swagger. When I was growing up, he would have been labeled a geek and ignored by everyone except other geeks. My generation was more into labels and cliques I suppose than this one.

You know you are getting older when you start to refer to it as “my generation”.

“How will I learn, if I don’t ask questions about my lessons, Sir?” I was using that ‘submissive, but over-acting’ voice I had with his father earlier in the car. It felt a little patronizing but he seemed to buy it.

“Okay, I concede your point. Chris told me you were different than your daughter. He said I would have to handle you a little differently. I see what he meant.”

“You have dated my daughter, Sir?” I wondered if he was a repeat customer. I had a hard time believing this kid knew how to handle a razor and shave his chin hair, much less a woman. That is the funny thing about age – When you are young you think you know it all. This kid was full of his own bravado.

Then look at his father. Jerry has the experience with women and he lacks the confidence. I suppose that is the irony of life. You think you will succeed before you try. Then fail a few times and you think you will fail before you try.

“No, but I took pictures of her playing with herself, and she sucked my dick today.”

I saw where the swagger was coming from. One thing that hasn’t changed since my generation is the confidence a boy gets once he gets a little attention from a girl for the first time. Unless I missed my guess, from how he bragged just now, my daughter was the first girl who paid him any attention at all. Now he was King shit, the cock of the walk, a legend in his own mind. I wasn’t going to rain on his parade and burst his bubble that it wasn’t going to be that easy with pretty girls for him in the future. Why should I? He will find out on his own, in his own time.

The community I live in is built around a gorgeous 18 hole golf course. We were walking past one of the fairways along the sidewalk when he directed me behind some bushes over to a wooden shed.

It was decorated like a cabin and inside was probably some electrical switches or whatever it is they want to hide from golfers to avoid spoiling their illusion. I had a feeling this is where he was going to ‘lay down the law’ and establish who was the boss.

“Strip”

I wasn’t sure what the rules were about public indecency. “I don’t think you can order me to remove all of my clothes, Sir.”

He struck me with that damned wire hanger again. I almost laughed because I thought of that movie Mommy Dearest where the woman is running around “No more wire hangers!!”. Damn right, no more of those, please! Lol.

“Do you want me to call your son?”

“No sir, this is my first date, and I don’t know all of the rules.” I pulled off my tube top. It was dark, secluded and we were alone. He was going to see my tits anyway, I was sure of that.

-Schwack- the next hit was harder than the last few.

“Do you think I am going to order you to do something you aren’t supposed to do?”

“No Sir” I was stepping out of my skirt. I could see the look on his face as he looked at my naked body, lit up by moonlight.  We were only about 30 feet from the road and while the bushes blocked the view from cars that might drive by, the street lamps overhead offered some light as well.

“When this is all over, I can recommend how many letters you get. So you be good to me, and I’ll see what I can do for you? Is that understood slut?” Now that my skirt was completely off he aimed much higher on my ass cheeks with his metal rod.

“Yes Sir, thank you Sir”

“Turn around so I can unlock your chastity belt. Interlace your fingers behind your head.”

Interlace. That is a word I hadn’t heard before in this context. He was a smart kid.

“May I set down my stuff, Sir?”

“What is it you brought, slut?”

It was dark so I wasn’t sure if he saw the shade of red I turned in embarrassment. “My cell phone, my clothes, and this cup, Sir”.

“What is in the cup?”

“My piss and shit, Sir” I couldn’t believe I managed to say it so cool and collected.

He stifled his laugh at my expense. “Why do you think Chris made you bring that?”

I wasn’t sure but I went with an answer from my affirmations since he seemed to be asking questions along those lines. “To remind me that my ass and cunt are not precious gifts, and how full of shit I can be Sir.”

He nodded at my answer as if he expected to hear that. I wondered how much my son had told him about me and what to do. “Put the cup between your fat tits, don’t hold them with your hands. What is the command? Clench?”

“The first command is ‘Spread’, Sir.” I told him politely as I pulled my tits apart so he could put the Arby’s cup right between my boobs.

“Clench” he ordered and I closed them around the cup, praying my cleavage would hold it in place or else it would splash me in the face.

“Turn around, get your hands behind your head. I want to inspect the goodies.”

I waited while he fidgeted with the key that unlocked my belt. Even if I managed to get the key, there would be no way I could unlock it myself. The lock had obviously been placed in the center of my back and I’d probably pop my arm out of joint trying to reach back there.

Once he had it, he pulled hard forcing the first three bulbs of the metal plug out of my asshole. “eeyow!” I let out a small yelp. “Please Sir, go slow.” I begged him.

He took his time and watched as each of the remaining anal plug bulbs passed out of my ass. I am not sure what it looked like, but not having been permitted to wipe and having jelly back there I felt ‘slimey’ and crusty.  He set my chastity belt down in the grass.

“Legs apart. Let me see position one.” He sounded a little less confident as he gave me that command. It could have been that he was surprised I was actually going along with all of this. Then again he had seen what my daughter did and so he probably wasn’t too shocked I would do it all too.

I stood up straight and pushed my shoulders back. I was careful not to drop the cup that was precariously staying in position between my chest.  I put my hands on my ass cheeks and pulled myself apart as I bent at the knee slightly. I could already feel my asshole was very sore from wearing the chastity belt and it felt very different to be without it. I wouldn’t call it a “free” feeling as much as it was vulnerable.

He got very close to my asshole. I don’t know exactly how close because I couldn’t see him but I could feel his breath on my sphincter.

“Nice butter cup.” He commented. “Just like your daughters. You should be proud.”

“Thank you Sir.” I answered wondering just how many of these I’d have to go through next week. I was exhausted from the fair the night before and a full day today. I just wanted to go home, even if I had to sleep tied up on the floor.

He touched my ass very delicately and ran his finger down my crack. “Is this poop?”

“It could be Sir. I wasn’t permitted toilet paper earlier when I shit.” I couldn’t see his face but I hoped he was suddenly grossed out. I added, “It could also be lubricant from the plug I wear up my ass, Sir. Taste it, if it tastes like strawberry, that is what it is.” I offered in as sweet a voice as I could muster.

“You think I want to taste your ass?” He sneered from behind me.

“You might Sir. Some guys enjoy it.” I had learned that at the Office. Some guys are complete ass men.

“Gross.” He declared. I had a tiny smile on my face at how naïve he seemed about the body. “You want to taste it?”

“If you want to know what it is Sir, please stick your finger in my mouth.” I knew I’d have to be nice to him anyway. I might as well be compliant. He wasted no time sticking his finger in.

I sucked his finger like I would a dick. It was strawberry coated that was for sure. I didn’t let go, I kept his finger in my mouth greedily. I thought if I could get him to cum this way, he might stop being so cruel. He came around to face me as I puffed his finger in and out of my mouth swirling my tongue around.

“Your body is good, but you have a horse face.” He said bluntly. That really hurt my feelings. “You look like Sarah Jessica Parker.”

I had never been told that. If anything I would prefer Kim Cattrall. In the face, I am definitely more of a Samantha than a Carrie any day. What a horrible little snot to call me a horse face and ruin the sexy mood.

I stopped sucking his finger, but I remained submissive in attitude. “It’s strawberry, Sir.”

“What if it was your poop?”

“Then I would taste myself, Sir.” I answered honestly. I was going through all the celebrities I’d ever been compared too. I’ve heard Bree from Desperate Housewives and back when I was a full brunette I heard the wife on “Everybody loves Raymond”. I have never heard Carrie. That was a low blow.

“Did you enjoy getting those piercings?” He asked changing the subject.

“May I ask if you are trying to give me an affirmation, Sir?”  I asked. You notice I said “Trying”? I was willing to give the little punk his ‘moment’ of authority. Calling me Carrie though, I thought I would throw a tiny little dig his way by inferring he wasn’t very good at giving an affirmation if he was doing so.

“Chris told me you need affirmations to adjust your attitude and make you think about your place. I’ll give you a choice, twenty swats with the rod” he dangled the wire hanger in front of me and cut the air with it menacingly. “Or you can choose affirmations, but if you bore me while we do it, I’ll give you fifty swats.”

“Which body part, Sir?” He asked me to clarify what I meant and I said “Which part of my body would receive the twenty strokes?” I sounded much more brave than I really am I am sure. It was part of my strategy to not let him see me squirm too much.

“Your boobies, I guess.” He named the part of my body he was looking directly at.

“Could I set down the cup before you start, Sir?”

“No.”

“Then, I will take the affirmation.” I would have picked the affirmation anyway. I felt that was far less painful. I just wanted to make it seem to him that maybe he was not intimidating me. He shouldn’t have been able to intimidate me, but naked as I was in the night air with my hands behind my head, he was doing a fair job of it.

“What is position two?”

“I bend over at the waist, and keep my hands behind my back holding my ass apart Sir.”

~swack~ He gave me another swat on the ass. “I want to see it, not hear about it.”

He hadn’t told me to get in the position, he had asked me what it was. I felt like he was playing a game of sexual simon sez with me and I was losing even though I was following the rules.

“I need to put down the cup, Sir.”

“By all means, set it on the ground and when you bend over, get your nose right above it.”

“If you wish Sir,” I was very flexible from Yoga and exercising for years. I could bend over and get my nose right above the cup. I was regretting having that skill as I inhaled my own stink.

“You don’t like doing what I tell you?”

“I am your obedient date, Sir. I will be well mannered and behaved tonight. I don’t prefer to be standing here like this, but if you want a good look at the tattoo my son bought for me last night, it would be greedy of me to want to deny you as long as a look as you want.” I figured it would be best if he did take a long look and get the curiosity out of his system.

I assumed he had his cell phone out and was probably taking pictures or video of me. When this began I was worried about Bill’s affirmation videos ending up with my parents, but we had done dozens of dares and been captured on people’s cell phones. I stifled the urge to beg him to keep the video for himself and his friends, because I knew it would be pointless. Chris had probably talked to him about it anyway.

“Why did my dad drop you off tonight?” I wasn’t sure if he knew why or he was genuinely curious.

“I didn’t know he was your father until after we arrived at your house, Sir.  I met him at a porn store where we bought the chastity belts and he agreed to bring me here so I wouldn’t be late for our date. He works with me at my Office during the day.”

“Cool, dad hangs out at porn stores?” His question seemed rhetorical and I didn’t answer. I realized I had goofed and let the cat out of the bag about his dad’s night job. The less I said about that the better for him and his father I thought.

He got right up next to my pussy lips and I could feel his hot breath on them. He took a picture with his cell phone and asked, “Who has the prettiest pussy, you or Jamie?”

He wasn’t making me feel as embarrassed and thoughtful as Bill and Chris did with the affirmations. They could make my head spin and swim with impossible questions where nothing was black and white. These seemed more random. I cut him some slack, he seemed to be doing better than his father probably would have in the same position.

“I don’t know Sir. You saw both of our cunts. Whose do you think is prettiest?”

“Your lips are nice.” He said and I smiled. “Jamie’s pussy though is perfect in every way. The only thing I don’t like is that wad of brown flesh that has been pulled out of her otherwise pristine pink pee hole.”

Once again he insulted me and once again I let it hurt me. I think when Bill and Chris do it, either I know they really love me or it feels like I deserved to be called “Cow Tits”. When this little bastard did it, it just hurt my feelings and self-esteem. “I am glad that my pussy lips are pretty to you, Sir.”

-thwak- a rod lashed out against my ass cheeks. “What kind of lips?”

“Cunt lips, Sir.” I had goofed that time. It was difficult to call it a cunt all of the time. It was a word that still felt alien to me to say about myself. I was getting much better about it. “Thank you for reminding me that other women are allowed to call it a pussy, but because of where I am in life, I just have a fat cunt.”

“Is it wet?”

I wondered if he would even know what a wet pussy felt like before. “It is not yet, Sir. I was a little wet from the French tickler in my chastity belt when we were walking but I think I am over it now.” I could have put on a little girl voice like my daughter and pretended to be gushing over him, but he had called me a horse face with a pussy that wasn’t as pretty as my daughter’s. I would comply with his orders but I wasn’t going to overdo it.

“This is boring me.” He announced and just began whapping my ass with the coat wire hanger. I wanted to tell him how to do affirmations with more bite. I wanted to tell him to slow down between swats and let me thank him and count. I didn’t do any of those things. I just let him wail on my ass as hard as he wanted. I thought he had drawn blood because the pain was unbearable, but it was just my sweat.

When he finished he must have done at least 40 swats. I felt like I was hyperventilating I was breathing so heavy. I had not even bothered to try to count he had done such a brutish job. I wasn’t going to remind him he had promised them on my tits for fear he might start over. “Thank… (huff)… You… (huff-huff)… Sir” I wheezed.

“Why do you thank people who hit you?”

“In this case, because you are trying to teach me to be more entertaining and for your time and attention to deliver a painful lesson, Sir.” That was a variation on something Bill had asked me earlier in the week and I was ready with a response. It seemed to impress him that I was so prepared with answers. I think he thought I had everything figured out. I was really flying a lot of this by the seat of my pants (metaphorically, obviously I don’t get to wear pants).

I hated not to plan, but I was in no position to make plans. I just had to hope Bill and Chris had planned things. My mind wandered back to Jamie’s plight. I wondered if half-time was over already and if she would end up suspended from school. It seemed inevitable that would happen if she went through with it. Knowing Jamie as I did, I didn’t expect her to give up once she set her mind to it.

The pain had already subsided and was now an afterthought. I felt like I was this big oversized toy to a boy I had never met.

I was surprised he was so bold with me. He put his pinky finger through the hood ring on my clit and twisted it around from behind. He seemed to have no inhibition about touching me any place on my body and no sympathy what so ever for my feelings.

Chris had coached him well.

He finally let me get dressed and I thanked him for his attentions. “Would you mind spitting on my asshole, Sir?”

I want to say I hate to ask, but I have to admit I got a charge out of seeing his reaction. His expression said “really? You are that nasty of a slut, you’ll ask me to hock a loogie on your ass?” That is what I read into it anyway.

I probably could have just spit on my hand and rubbed it into the plug before pulling myself back onto the backdoor penetrator I would be wearing from now on. He had already seen me humiliated.

Who am I kidding? I was going to deny him the pleasures of watching me beg and squirm moments earlier. I hate to admit this but I think the sudden pain of the spanking had turned the tables on me and I was looking at him through eyes that saw my superior. I was treating him like Bill and Chris.

Isn’t it funny that all it took was one little wire hanger?

The Family Feud III

Chapter Thirty
“The scramble left her tight end wide open”

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 36
Get out of jail cards: 1
WHORE: 1,3,1,0,0
JAMIE: 39
Get out of jail cards: 1
WHORE: 1,3,1,0,0

**Note to reader: This is Jamie’s journal from Friday Night detailing the events of approximately 7pm when she got in the truck with Buford to be transported to her ‘Cunt Stunt’. In order to increase readability, some of the dialogue exchanged was altered to appear in a ‘narrative’ story format.

My mom and I were being separated in two different cars. She was going with some strange little man with beady eyes and I was in the truck with Buford. He had an endearing quality to him. I kind of wish I could see life through his simple eyes.

At sixteen you are supposed to be uncomplicated I think. Things felt a whole lot more complicated. I could act like a blonde bimbo slut and pretend nothing bothered me as I had been for most of the day, or I could find a way to deal with the hole I continued to dig for myself. I had better make my mind up soon.

When we got into the back of the truck, my brother ordered me to get down on all fours and keep my nose right above that awful cup of my piss and shit.

I wished my mom was with me, she made these awful times more bearable doing them with me. We could even laugh about it as strange as that sounds.

Buford took the same ‘table’ position I did, on all fours. I tried to explain he probably didn’t have to stay on all fours like me. He couldn’t hear me over the sound of the wind buffeting us in the truck. He just smiled and gave me his creepy goo-goo eyes when I tried to tell him, so I gave up.

When we finally did stop at a red light he said “You know I may be dirty and smelly,” He said with a smirk. “But in the dark, I am just smelly.”

I have to admit that joke did help me laugh and not think too much about what I had agreed to do at the pep rally. I secretly wondered if I hadn’t been so pretty, would anyone have taken an interest in training me this way? It is kind of a curse.

I suppose if I were ugly, really ugly, I would probably have a good counter argument to that sentiment.

Buford asked me a few other questions on the way to the pep rally but they weren’t worth keeping track of. He seemed to be fascinated with my life and any answer I gave him caused him to overreact with joy. I almost offered to suck his cock just to get him to be quiet.

When we pulled into the high school parking lot the game was already started. It was dark and the parking lot was full. Almost anyone who was anybody at all, was at this game. This wasn’t a championship game, but it is always a big deal when we face off against our traditional rivals at Union County.

“Here throw on your uniform.” My brother tossed my cheer leading uniform at me when they stopped. I wanted to ask why he hadn’t let me change into it in the truck on the way, but I thought better of it. I am supposed to be the submissive one.

“Thank you Sir.” I was used to undressing quickly now, and it was dark. Buford was the only one who watched me take everything off and change. My brother and dad had seen it enough that they obviously didn’t feel it warranted their special attention.

I smiled at my lone audience of one. That seemed to make Buford feel special. I don’t want to sound like an attention whore but the way he marveled at my body when I changed made me feel special too. I know he is half crazy and he would probably marvel at how I spread mayonnaise on a sandwich but it felt good to be looked at with such adoring fascination for a change.

“If you wear that chastity belt under your skirt, people will see it when you jump around.” Buford told me something I already knew.

“I suppose it is better than wearing nothing at all under my skirt, Sir,” I said in my usual chipper/look on the bright side tone.

“Not for me. I’d rather see you cheer completely naked.”

“Stick around, you may just get your wish, Sir.” I promised with a wink and reported to my Dad and brother.

Chris offered him some black latex paint he had bought from the porn store. “Would you like to cover the shiny stainless on my sister’s chastity belt in black latex?”

“I thought you would never ask!” Buford acted like this was a very reasonable and ordinary request. I smiled and lifted my skirt for him as he applied a coat of liquid latex to my chastity belt.

“Thank you Sir, what did I do to deserve such modesty?” I asked my brother about his sudden generosity. I had assumed he would want people to know I wear a chastity belt.

“Just get out there and break a leg, Sis.”

“Oh don’t do that! I broke both of my legs! Seven times.” Buford looked up at me with his fingers still coated in latex, his face deadly serious.

“I’ll try not to, Sir.” I knew he was also playing with my ass cheeks while he applied the latex. I just made a cute face and tried to get more into my bubble-headed, overly positive cheerleading persona, and shut down my higher thought processes as much as possible.

The game was already in the 2nd quarter. Someone on the Union County Rams had just caught a short pass and ran into the end zone.

“Oooh, He had to stretch to get it in.” the announcer said over the P.A.

I had never noticed how much of a double entendre’ some of the football jargon really was. That or after a week of serving this way my mind was in the gutter.

I raced out onto sidelines where the other cheerleaders were. My coach didn’t expect to see me. “If you don’t feel good, you should go home.” She made me feel really rotten about lying about stomach cramps to get out of the pep rally. She was treating me like some kind of valiant heroine who tries to participate even though she is sick.

‘Sick in the head.’ I thought.

The rams lined up for the Kickoff. The kick was fielded by none other than #31 Dave Stravosky. The crowd cheered as he returned the kick 17 yards before being tackled.

“He found a hole and slid through it!” The voice on the P.A. boomed.

I could see my Dad and Chris watching the game with Buford out in the stands. This would be the first time in years anyone from my family came to watch. My dad is a football fan but he only likes professional ball. I am sure he would have come if Chris played, but most people don’t see cheerleading as a sport.

Chris hates sports in general and my mom was wrapped up with work or her own exercise to worry too much about me. She used to come with me when I was a little girl, but eventually she hooked up with a carpool of other mothers and just became too busy.

What a surprise that they finally come for my final game. Whatever happened tonight I planned to hang up the pom-poms for good. There were a lot of other things I needed to focus on and I could see that everyone in the family would be too. I am sure my Mom would have been here instead of on her date. I wondered who she was with. I had my own ideas about who was the most handsy and took advantage of my powerlessness the most. I’d have to compare notes after I finished.

We were doing an ‘Around the world jump’. I know this routine like the back of my hand so it is easy for me to just insert myself into the routine cold. The first step is to make a high V with your hands over your head.

In the crowd there is a mixture of apathy, disgusting leers, and people who are trying to watch the game. You get used to ignoring the negativity and keep a big happy smile on your face like this is the greatest thing in the world. I could see Buford in the stands trying to follow along and my Dad looking embarrassed sitting next to him.

We are taught to use crisp, sharp motions that are slightly exaggerated in how we perform our routines. That has served me well in learning my discipline and inspection positions at home. I have to keep excellent posture and not arch my back as I submit to one of the two male cheerleaders holding me by the hips with his hands as I stand on my tip toes.

These guys are handsome but thoroughly gay. It is almost a requirement to touch cheerleader flesh and not make it about sex.

I couldn’t help but feel goose bumps as I did the wind up. I bent at the knees and crossed my arms downward into the “X” position in front of my knees.

Swinging my arms, I backed and up into a “V” position and made my jump. First I had to keep my legs together (That is a first, right?). Then I pull them straight out in front of me in a 90 degree angle, before bringing them up to my chest as high as I can. At the same time I lean my upper body forward and reach to my toes pointed straight up.

I had this irrational fear that the stadium would erupt in a panic once they saw me spread my legs for the jump and could see I had on a chastity belt as I rotated my hips. It was over so fast, I probably could have done it with nothing underneath the skirt and no one would be the wiser.

Buford would know. I could feel his eyes burning a hole through me down on the sidelines.

Once I finished rotating my hips to bring my legs  parallel to the ground in a “V” position, I swung my arms into a “T”. Then I bent at the knees to soften my landing. As a finishing touch I pulled my arms towards me and then straightened up to clap.

“Let’s Go Trojans, Here we go Trojans!” we chanted during the part we get to free style kick and encourage the crowd.

The audience stood up and cheered, and I wondered if my chastity belt had suddenly dropped around my knees.

Silly girl, they were cheering for the football game behind me. Noah #28 had just caught a 27 yard pass to move the ball down field a little further.

“Oooh, he’s got good hands!” The announcer said.

I had to laugh. I haven’t had his hands around me, but I would take the announcers word for it.

It would be half time soon and we cheer until the very last minute. There is a small window of opportunity when the marching band comes on to the field for us to prepare for whatever half-time skit or stunt we have going on. The players take breaks, but we girls just keep on going like the energizer bunny, dancing around all night.

On the next play there was a penalty thrown, someone got hurt. I couldn’t tell if it was one of ours or one of theirs.

“Oooh, The hole closed on him before he could penetrate it. He is going to feel that one tomorrow!” the announcer said in his deep announcer voice.

When he said, “Feel that one tomorrow.” I couldn’t help but think dirty thoughts. Images in my head of holes closing and football player feel ups were clouding my ability to concentrate on the game.

Some schools have the cheerleaders continue to prance around when there is a player injury to keep people’s minds off the fact some young buck has probably just had his football career ended with a shattered knee or ankle or some sort of bone.

I am thankful ours doesn’t make us do that, because I hate to face out to the crowd and see the look of concern on everyone’s face while I try to pretend I am a blonde bimbo who doesn’t know someone just got severely hurt in a game.

Mistress wasn’t interested in scolding me for being late to the game. I was surprised at first that she didn’t have some vile insult for me. She had her attention on Hope, another girl I had grown up with. We had done all the normal sleepover stuff, passed notes, played hopscotch.

She was very leggy and skinny, and she had one of those faces where you just wanted to ask, ‘Why aren’t you in New York working as a model?” to her.

“Hope the players brought over some Gatorade for you to drink.” Some of the girls looked horrified, some looked amused as Cathy offered a cup of yellow liquid to Hope.

“No, I’ve been drinking player piss all day, it’s sick. I am not playing your game anymore.” Hope had her hands on her hips, pouting daintily. She was so pretty even her hissy fits seemed adorable.

I wondered if mine were as cute. That would probably explain why I am rarely taken seriously when I get outraged.

“But if you get 12 of these Gatorades down, I’ll give you a star.” Cathy offered her patiently.

I had put together that Hope was caught up in one of Cathy’s blackmail webs already. I knew she was one of the ones coming to school without panties and I suspected it wasn’t from a sudden desire to ‘rebel’. I knew Hope was one of the good ones.

“I don’t’ care, you can put those stars right up your ass. I quit this silly game.” She knocked the ‘gatorade’ out of Cathy’s hand spilling it on her and dousing her hair and face with it.

Hope covered her hands with her mouth in the expression you do when you know you fucked up.

“That is going to cost you Hope, I am going to make sure your father’s business goes under unless you get a towel, wipe this off of me, and submit to 24 more glasses of Gatorade tonight. WITHOUT a star….” She was wiping the piss out of her eyes as she delivered her threat.

“Fuck no, I don’t care what you do to me. Leave my father out of it!” Hope declared. She was so petite that I was having a hard time taking her serious. The other girls were staying out of it. I don’t blame them. They may have ended up in Hope’s position by coming to her rescue.

To fans on the sidelines, if they noticed at all, it was just a tiff between two cheerleaders. They would assume it’s over some boyfriend or whatever shallow girls like us argue about. Almost everyone was watching as they carted off the young player on a stretcher.

“You haven’t even tasted white flavor Gatorade. You are going to love it. When we get back in the dressing room, let’s do an attitude adjustment, and talk about it.” There was a menacing air to how Cathy spoke to Hope.

I couldn’t help but wonder if Cathy had borrowed the concept of our ‘Affirmations’ and called them ‘Attitude Adjustments’. I was glad not to be the focus of Cathy’s attentions, but I felt terrible for Hope. I wanted to suggest she just grin and bear and get through it, but I didn’t know her story and what she was dealing with.

If she is drinking player’s piss on the sidelines, it’s probably a lot worse than what I consider an ordeal. I’ve had my lips around six dicks today and I already have a fairly good idea I am not going to enjoy piss if I end up having to do that too.

I guess it begs the question, who WOULD enjoy it?

Hope got back in line with the rest of us when they had cleared the injured player from the field and we continued cheering for the remainder of the quarter. I wondered how long had the humiliation and dare games been going on and why hadn’t I noticed it?

Maybe I had been so self-absorbed I simply didn’t notice the power-exchange and embarrassing dares. I was keenly aware of them now.

“The QB gets it off just in time….oh, and #82 could go all the way!” The announcer riled everyone up as one of our player’s scored a touchdown in the last remaining play of the quarter. The game was tied, and I could care less.

I would normally be riveted by such a close game. I had bigger things on my mind. It was time for our cool-down and my ‘cunt stunt’.

My Dad, Chris and Buford were coming down from the stands to meet me near the ‘Cheer station’, which was really a fancy word for a ‘small locker room’. I am told the player’s locker room is impressive and has all kinds of amenities. Ours is more of a glorified bathroom.

We hopped, skipped and clasped our way off the field giving the impression we are all happy go lucky girls trying to keep the team spirit going.

When I got to the cheer station I peeked inside to see if everyone was decent. I’d need to change for the stunt in there. I was planning to make a big speech about my goodbyes and why I am leaving cheerleading but I wasn’t the focus of anyone’s attention.

Hope was already naked and crying inside. She had her skirt pulled down around her ankles and her palms flat to the locker. Her ass cheeks were even more rosy red than mine were. Cathy was making her drink from a cup, “C’mon Pissy Missy, let’s see you chug. Think of it like a beer.”

The other girls were either smiling or looking down trying to keep a low profile afraid they may be next. I had never seen anyone haze another girl this openly before.

Hope was holding her lips puckered tightly like a change purse. She was moving her head out of the way of the lemony colored liquid as if to avoid it, but she kept her palms flat to the locker. I really couldn’t understand. To me either you resist it all or go with it. I couldn’t understand resisting half of what was happening to her but accepting the naked shame of standing up against the wall with tits, nose and palms pressed to the locker.

“You want to explain to your dad why he is losing his restaurant?” Cathy taunted her prey, following Hope’s head with the piss cup waiting for her to open her mouth to reply. “I can bring him in. Girl’s you don’t mind do you?”

“Actually, I wanted to bring in my Dad too, and my brother…” I said quietly. She was ignoring me, focused on Hope.

Cathy opened the heavy door to the cheer station and invited in Hope’s Dad. She saw my family and told them they can come see this too. “I think your daughter wants you. Come in, most of us are decent.”

Buford’s eyes bugged out and even my Dad and Chris were caught up in watching the train wreck unfold in front of us. It took almost five minutes, of Cathy teasing and tormenting Hope. She alternated between spanking her and trying to get her to consume a piss cup.

Her father watched and coaxed her. He WANTED her to continue with whatever game Cathy was playing. “Please, she is being very reasonable, honey. You’ve already come this far.”

“Dad do you like seeing me controlled and humiliated by my class mates?” Hope was in tears when she turned to her father, not trying to hide her nudity.

“No honey, it’s horrible.” There was something about how he answered that sounded like he didn’t really believe it.

My dad and Chris picked up on it too and they cleared their throat in a way that implied they were calling bullshit.

As if to answer their implications, Hope’s dad said, “If I could take your place, I would. You know I look lousy in a diaper.” His joke failed to cheer her up. He put his finger to her eyes to dry her tears. “If you just do what she says we get the pictures back.”

“This can’t be happening to me, Daddy!” She was on her knees at his feet crying.

“Oh stop your blubbering, it is happening. You think you are the only cunt who has ever suffered on this team? Almost everyone has had to do it. Even goody two-shoes Taylor is slave to her dad and brother, aren’t you sweet cheeks?” Cathy finally acknowledged me.

“Yes Mistress.” I said wanting to bring up my farewell speech, but the spotlight remained on Hope.

“Fuck you! Fuck ALL of you bitches! You stood by and let this happen to me!” Hope stood up pointing at everyone including me. I wasn’t sure how she thought I may have been in a position to help her. Her story and mine had never really collided.

She had gone from denial to anger in under 30 seconds flat. She had just as quickly moved on to bargaining.

“You can keep the pictures. You’ve got the money you made off of me. Can’t you let me go, please? I don’t want to do this anymore…puh-leeze….” She was begging. She was truly begging.

I took mental notes on how she behaved. Chris had expressed his disappointment before that me and my mother weren’t very convincing beggars. You really have to WANT something so bad, and feel you have no card left to play but to rely on the others pity. I think that is the key.

The other girls were either mocking how she said please or quietly looking at their shoes.

“Fine, I don’t give a shit anymore. Do whatever you want to me!” She sounded depressed and angry at the same time. I had never heard her cuss or sound so angry. It didn’t sound right coming from her pouty, pink lips. I suppose that is what people see when I do it.

Hope grabbed for her clothes to put them on but her father held them pleading with her. He didn’t say a word, but his face seemed to imply desperately, “Do this for me, baby.”

“Daddy, give me my clothes!”

Cathy only watched with arms folded. “You walk out that door, and you lose everything.”

“I GAIN everything!” She wrenched her shirt free and put it on. “Daddy, come on. Please, I want out.”

“Honey pot, this is a lot more complicated than you think. Mistress Griffin is being very fair.” He looked around nervously at the other cheerleaders and the guys when he said Mistress to see if they would be shocked he said it.

“Get on your hands and knees, and maybe Mistress will let you lick my dark brown butthole, piggy.” She said to Hope’s dad. He looked like the kind of silver-haired, portly gentlemen who would be a pillar of the community and serve on the school board or chamber of commerce.

Which is why it was unexpected when he said, “Come back, Hope, please?” as he got down on his hands and knees in his business suit on the dirty floor of the cheerleader’s changing room. “Yes Mistress”

His daughter left bottomless without looking behind her.

I was shocked her father didn’t run after her.

Mistress slapped his portly ass and said “A wallet? Hand that over. You  know you are not supposed to have anything in your back pockets, Piggy.”

“Yes Mistress” he handed his wallet to her.

“She’ll be back. If she doesn’t, you will lose your home and your business. I’ve got a nice cage for you out in the woods. Would you prefer to live there, piggy?”

He sounded about as convincing as he did when he said he didn’t get off from watching his daughter participate in these perverted games when he begged to keep his old life. “No mistress, please. I want to keep serving you, but don’t take everything away.”

“What is it Taylor, you look like you are about to piss all over yourself if you don’t get to talk?” Cathy strutted around like she was a queen and everyone else knew it.

“Well, I wanted to say a few things. It is my last game.”

The reaction of the other girls on the squad was mostly one of surprise and encouragement to remain on the team. I was glad that they would miss me.

Cathy was the obvious exception.

“It is going to be hard to follow what just happened with Hope.”

“You need to say what you got to say, and make it snappy. We have to be back out on the field as soon as they finish Rock Me Amadeus.” The marching band was already butchering that old 1980s disco song. I think the 1980s was disco, right?

Anytime that comes on the radio my mom turns it off immediately. She used to anyway, before I wrecked her car.

“Just spit it out, Cunt.”

“Thank you Mistress.” I found that it was becoming second nature to ignore insults and be polite anyway.

I began to undress in front of the rest of the squad. We had seen each other naked dozens of times at away games and sleep overs. Most of us had grown up in the same neighborhood and even taken baths with each other when we were little. It is strange how puberty changes so much when you are teenagers.

Some of the girls who had grown up in our ‘clique’ who didn’t blossom into tall, beauties were simply excluded from the clique. I had a friend named Denise all through fifth grade and when she started to put on weight I could still see the pretty thin girl inside the fat body. It just seemed like Denise stopped getting invited to the same things I did and we stopped hanging in the same circle.

It might have seemed odd to be removing my clothes with my dad, Chris, Buford and Hope’s dad in the room, but given the tantrum we just watched when Hope melted down, no one seemed particularly concerned.

“As many of you have heard, I am owned by my father and brother, and they have put Mistress Griffin in charge of me at school.” I tried to clear my throat twice before I felt comfortable talking.

It didn’t help that Buford had begun air-guitaring Creedance Clearwater Revival’s Greatest Hits or whatever hippy-dippy, rock-a-billy tune that was in his head.

“You have all seen my tattoo” I turned around to show the letters. They couldn’t see the entire thing because my chastity belt covered the center. “It says ‘Whore’, because that is exactly what I am for now and until I earn my dignity back.” I was now completely naked except for my chastity belt, my cat collar and my heels. I was sitting down to unbuckle those so I would be barefoot.

“I can see from the looks on your faces, most of you aren’t shocked. You are the popular girls in the school and because you are pretty you have been able to either use your looks to get what you want and have power over others, or you have found clever people who wanted power over you.”

“Sir, will you apply the Trojan paint to my body?” I asked my brother, who offered to Bill and Chris some orange and black body paint and latex. They wasted no time in applying the school colors, focusing first on my boobs naturally.

“Some of you enjoy the thrill of dares and the humiliation, I think. Most of you don’t. You are afraid of what will happen to your reputation at school, and I don’t blame you. I was too. I still am.” I admitted truthfully. It was quiet enough you could hear only my voice and Buford’s faint humming of ‘Rock you like a Hurricane’.

“My brother has come up with a suitable cunt stunt for me to perform. That is because I accept that because I was born with one of these,” I knocked on the front of my chastity belt for dramatic effect “I am a cunt.”

“It isn’t just the fate of genetics. I am a cunt because I have ignored people, belittled them, thought myself better than them, and worst of all, worse than any of you who make no secret you enjoy doing it to people. I didn’t even realize I was doing it. That is how self-absorbed I was.”

I pulled my hair up in a ponytail so Buford could coat my neck in orange paint.

“I have been to cheer camp, girl scouts, dance performance, drama, music, horseback riding almost every sort of activity with most of you since I was a little girl, and I have always been treated like I was special because of my looks.”

Buford whistled, he was back to making sure I had enough paint on my butt cheeks.

“Sir, I think my butt is suitably covered, will you do my legs, please?” I asked him politely before continuing my speech.

“So tonight, I am going to go out on the field during half-time, and I am going to let the entire school see that I am a whore.  I am going to show everyone that I've learned my lesson in humility and pridefulness that I deserve this fate.  I’ll probably get kicked off cheer, possibly out of school.”

A few of my friends seemed concerned, but no one told me not to do it.

“I should have spent more time with my family. I should have spent more time being a teenage girl and getting to know the people I shared a house with. Instead, I rushed to extracurricular clubs, I spent more time on the yearbook than I did on defending my brother.”

I looked at my friends, “I had no idea how smart, kind, and funny he is.” I put my arm around him.

“Ah shucks,” He sounded like the cowardly lion in the Wizard of Oz trying to sound humble when someone flatters him. “You can butter me up, Sis but I am still going to punish you.”

“You should punish me, Sir. I have been a mean girl. So have every girl in this room, and you all know it. You have all made fun of Chris. Veronica, you were one of the worst.”

I looked right at my best friend. She was a raven haired photocopy of me with a cute face and slender build. She couldn’t return my gaze.

“I didn’t tell you to stop making fun of him, or tell you why you were wrong, and I accept the consequences of those actions. I am going to quit cheerleading for good. When I think back on my high school years, what was the benefit of prancing around at a game?”

“Veronica do you think one thing we have done out there has ever changed the score?”

She didn’t answer.

“That time we spend here, we don’t get back. We can’t get a time machine when we are working a full time job, raising a family of our own and return back to get to know our friends and family from those days.”

I could tell some of them didn’t care what I was saying and a few were really taking it to heart. I was almost fully painted from head to toe. It hadn’t taken them long to get me painted a patchwork of our school colors in orange and black.

“You are the popular girls at schools, not because you are a cheerleader. You are popular because of who you are. The fact that you are a cheerleader also is because that is what everyone expects popular girls to do with their time.”

My brother slid in something he had brought from home. It was a makeshift wooden pillory like the one I was in the night before at the fair. “It was the best I could do on short notice.”

It was just two pieces of wood with room for me to stick my head and hands through it. I let him put it over my head and handcuff me so that my wrists were locked together. The wood hadn’t been painted or stained to give it that old Medieval look like the one at the fair.

“I am sorry I didn’t have time to paint it, Sis.”

“No need to apologize to me, Sir. I am thankful you thought enough of me to make this for me to prove my obedience to you and Dad.” I left out the part where I was worried I’d get a splinter from the raw, untreated edges of the wood.

Rock me Amadeus with it’s repetitive ‘whoo, whee, whee, whee whee, whoo ,whee whee, whee, whee’ hook was coming to its end. It would be time for the other girls to go out there.

“You don’t have to support me in this, you don’t have to understand my reasons, you don’t have to miss me when I am gone,” I told them. “You just have to understand this is more than just a cunt stunt for me. This is more than just me flashing my boobs to the entire school. This is me telling the world that my boobs, and my ass are nothing special, it’s just a body. I understand now what is more important, and I am trying to make amends for being such a super cunt.”

I think Chris may have started it, but there was a slow clap that erupted into a tiny vote of appreciation for me. I smiled at my friends who chose to support my decision and thanked them. It seemed surreal. I was thanking them while I was locked inside a makeshift wooden stock that was resting on my naked shoulders.

Buford cheered the loudest.

The song came to an end and that was the other girls’ cue to run out on the field and begin their half-time routine. Only the guys and Mistress Griffin remained.

“You have come a long way, jail bait.” She looked at me with what I think may be respect. I was a little confused why she called me jail bait since we were the same age but I didn’t want to ask. I suppose she is an old soul or something.

“You showed me something tonight,” She paused and glanced down at the man still heeling by her feet. She pulled her spanks down and lifted her skirt “Take a little lick for now.”

Hope’s dad didn’t hesitate to dive between her cheeks and lick.

“Oh can I be next!!” Buford asked optimistically.

“Who is this retard?” Cathy asked rhetorically.  “You have money?”

“I used to be an electrician, but one day I was installing some wires and ZZZZZAP” His eyes became maniacally wide to emphasize his shock. “They said I would never work again, so now I have a cash settlement. It’s my money and I need it now, right?”

“Then we can talk after the game, honey. You have to pay to play, if you want to be one of my piggies, isn’t that right, Piggy?”

Hope’s dad shamelessly oinked while eating out her ass.

“Wow, that is a fucking trip!” Buford sounded enthusiastic.

“I have to get out on the field.” She abruptly let the waist band of her spanks snap back in place. “If Jamie gets kicked out of school, can I come over and play with her?”

She addressed my Dad and Chris and not me.

“Yeah, you guys can have a play date,” My dad didn’t seem to care one way or the other. He wasn’t impressed with Cathy. To him, she was just a girl who was too big for her britches. He was probably right. “Who is going to carry her out on the field, wasn’t the idea she was supposed to look like the poster?”

“The poster I had the dweebs in audio-visual make for you?” Cathy smiled at her handiwork. “No offense Chris.” She half-apologized to Chris since he was one of those audio-visual dweebs.

“None taken.”

“Jail bait, you make it very hard to humiliate you if you are going to take a poster I had made of you getting hit with tomatoes and then act it out in front of the whole school without anyone making you do it.” She pinched my cheek hard. “Are you sure you don’t get turned on by all of this?”

I didn’t have time to answer her. She started to race out to the field to join the rest of the squad. “Go in the locker room and tell Dave to do you a favor for Cathy. He will find some guys to carry you out there.”

“You ready for this Jamie?” my dad asked me.

“Yes Sir.” I told him with confidence.  I had a sense from looking at his face he wanted to give me an out -a way to give up and not have to go through with my sacrifice. I wondered if seeing Hope crumple had made him pity me more. This was the first time in the past week he didn't seem to delight in my total humiliation and embarrassment.

Hope’s dad stood up when Mistress left. “You fellas will be cool about all this, right?”

“Sure man, cool.” Buford was the first to agree.

“Great, come on down to Garrity’s Family Restaurant, and ask for me and I’ll take care of your dinner.” He straightened his suit and dusted off his knees as if that would somehow clean the off the dirt.

He looked me up and down drinking in my nudity then back at my father. “You are a lucky man, I don’t think Hope would ever do anything like that.” And with that he made his way out of the cheer station to look for his daughter or watch Mistress. (Whichever was more important to him, I am guessing).

“Will you lock my thighs together as well, Sir?” I asked my brother. It’d give my costume a little more authenticity. He connected the chain that locked the two metal rings around my thighs together and locked it in place so that I was hobbled.

“Thank you Sir.”

My brother seemed a little wistful as I thanked him.

“Is there a problem, Sir?”

“When I dreamed this scenario up, I thought it would be more embarrassing to you. You seem to be taking it pretty well.”

“So you aren’t happy if I cooperate and accept my fate, Sir?” I had told my mom that theory the Saturday this first began! I was quietly holding back my “Ah-Hah! I was right all along face!”

“No, I am happy. I just thought this was going to be harder for you.” Chris said sullenly.

“Sir, I am about to walk into the boy’s locker room, naked, cuffed, and painted in school colors and beg three football  players to carry me on the field. You don’t think that is hard?” I didn’t want to sound so snippy but I am sure I came across that way.

“Watch your tone, Ass Face!” He took one of my nipples and twisted it by the ring causing me to wince and apologize.

“She has gum drop nipples.” Buford sighed.

“What are gum drop nipples?” Chris asked.

“Hard candy shaped, sweet to suck on.” Buford explained while looking directly at my nipples.

“There are twelve kinds of nipples.” He listed them each as we made our way outside to the boy’s locker room. I was in an area that the fans can’t see but it wasn’t lost on me that aside from body paint and a chastity belt I was completely naked and tied up.

I could hear the crowd cheering for the girls doing their regular routine. I didn’t miss it. I had been out there enough times I was used to that applause. Okay, I won’t lie, I missed it a little already.

BUFORD’S NIPPLE TYPE LIST:

1. Gum Drop Nipples: My mom and I have these which is only exaggerated by our piercings.
2. Pepperoni – Unusually bumpy and puckered, ridged on the edge.
3. Blind pigs – low slung nips with jutting and pointed snout, facing off – kilter directions.
4. Bubble Gum – looks like they have been chewed by a baby who gummed them too much
5. Puffy (aka Buds’) – When they form a smooth swollen cap at the end of the boobs. I remember when I was about 13 and mine looked like that.
6. Dipples – Nipples that are inside out
7. Pencil Erasers - Perfectly cylindrical tips, roughly the size and color of their namesake.
8. Tart 'N Tinys - A variation on Pencil Erasers, only much, much, smaller and cuter.
9. Lincoln Logs (aka Hot Dogs) - Another Pencil Eraser variation, but much longer, often extending 1/2 inch or more, the ‘outie’ of nipples.
10. Silver Dollars – no nip, all areola
    
    

I was surprised I didn’t qualify for Lincoln Logs. I felt like my nipples were extended out like two tiny erections, on full high beam at all times. I guess they don’t seem as engorged to other people.

My brother started to dispute Buford’s list by pointing out a type he hadn’t thought of.

“What about big fat cow udder nipples?”

“I think technically that’s Hot Dogs.” Buford answered.

The two discussed calmly a topic that seemed to have great significance to both of them. My brother bought up fake breasts and how the nipples became uneven, or seemed to be set off to the side of the center of the tit.”

“Now you are getting into boob shape. You are confusing the two.” Buford seemed lucid for a moment while he clarified the distinction in the two categories.

My dad asked them both to quiet down as we approached the player’s locker room.

“Do you want me to go in and talk to Dave, Sis?” Chris asked me.

“If you order me to come in with you, I’ll obey Sir.”

“Sure you will, where else would you go?” Buford had a good point.

I thought about Hope disappearing into the night with just her top and nothing else. “Nowhere Sir. I follow where I am led by my betters.” I said and I think I meant it completely.

The Family Feud III

Chapter Thirty-One
“Do you believe in Magic (The gathering)?”

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 36
Get out of jail cards: 1
WHORE: 1,3,1,0,0
JAMIE: 39
Get out of jail cards: 1
WHORE: 1,3,1,0,0

**Note to reader: This is Wendy’s journal from Friday Night detailing the events of approximately 7:45PM after her date with Sheldon began. Some of Wendy’s journal was altered to protect the name of the corporation and some of the employee’s identities. In order to increase readability, some of the dialogue exchanged was altered to appear in a ‘narrative’ story format.

“So how do you fart with that thing on?”

I stifled the immediate urge to chuckle at the outrageous question I was being asked. I knew my date was referring to the chastity belt and more specifically the metal rod now firmly locked up my butt. We were strolling through my neighborhood on the sidewalk after he was satisfied he had shown me who is ‘boss’.

“Do you always sweet talk your dates with such pleasant questions, Sir?” I was being coy and I knew he might swat me again with his wire hanger, but I didn’t think he would mind my being conversational. He seemed like he was being casual and informal.

“This is technically my first date.” He admitted. I could see the vulnerable side of him when he was honest with me. I could see some of his father in him too.

“I am surprised you didn’t swat me for being coy. Thank you for that Sir.” I decided to lay a card on the table of my own since he had been so candid.

“My arm is kind of tired.”

I didn’t have any sympathy for his arm. My ass was sore and it was still stinging from that little bastards idea of laying down the law. I was proud that I had taken the best he could dish out and outlasted him. I remained quiet and let him speak next.

“What other ways can I punish you?” His question sounded kind of naïve.

“I thought my son told you all about how to keep womenfolk like me in line, Sir?” I jokingly tried to sound country in an attempt at levity.

“He did, he said there were ten different kinds of infractions, but I am not a walking Pokedex. I don’t have it all memorized.”

I didn’t know what a Pokedex was, but I got the gist of his point.

“To be honest, I don’t have them all memorized either.” I admitted to him. “The infractions are not that frequent, they are for trivial little things that can’t be disputed, Sir.”

“Like what?”

I wanted to know more about his plans for me, and what I was supposed to do tonight. I didn’t mind talking about myself and my situation with him as much as I did with Jerry but I still felt awkward giving the details of my humiliation to strangers. 

“Usually they make the punishment fit the crime, Sir.” He didn’t seem to understand. I knew I would have to give him an example. “Let’s say my daughter or I were dragging our asses around the house because we were tired,” I regretted bringing up my daughter again but it was already out there. “Chris would probably give us an endurance punishment, to do fifty jumping jacks or march in place to get our blood flowing and keep us moving, Sir.”

He laughed and I am sure he was picturing my boobs and ass bouncing up and down doing jumping jacks naked. I certainly was picturing it. I am sure I looked ridiculous, especially gagged and with someone smacking my ass in cadence with the exercise.

Eventually I explained all ten forms of infraction. I did remember them, but I had to go through examples of each in order to recall the details. It is kind of like typing on a keyboard – You couldn’t tell someone the order of the keys in the middle row, but you could sit down and just start typing without looking at them.

I explained how they used time outs with us and restricted our movement when they wanted us to learn patience.

I told him how beating was most common for us and the reasons the physical pain was used to make us remember our lessons. We went over how they used our diet and bathroom control to remind us of lost privileges and teach us to appreciate the things we took for granted. I gave him examples of how they took the most mundane task like eating a hot dog and turned it into a lesson.

“You sound like you are trying to convince me to do that to you.” He commented.

I had to admit to myself that it probably did sound that way. “I didn’t mean to imply that, maybe I was justifying it to myself more than you.” I told him honestly. “Can I throw away this stinky old cup now, Sir?”

I was still holding my cell phone in one hand and the Arby’s cup in the other.

“Sure” he said generously and before I could set it down he added his condition. “You can pour it out, but keep the cup.”

“May I ask why Sir?” I asked as I stopped next to someone’s mailbox and bent at the waist to pour the contents of my filthy cup on their lawn. I felt guilty as if I had been walking Rosco and let him poop on my neighbor’s yard.

“You may have to go again.”

“Couldn’t I just get another cup, Sir?” I stood up straight.

“You don’t love the earth? No wonder Chris said you were selfish!”

I couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not. I changed the subject by asking him if when I bent over my chastity belt peeked out from under my skirt. I think I was more curious if he had noticed I bent at the waist than I was in finding out if I was hanging out.

“I didn’t look.”

He was so callous and flippant about some things. I had gone to the trouble of bending at the waist deeply and he hadn’t even noticed. I don’t know why I WANTED him to notice, but I did. I guess I am vain that way.

“Do you mind looking and letting me know? Before we get wherever we go, I’d like to know if my shiny metal ass will be visible when I bend over.”

He laughed and called me ‘Bender’ as I bent over the same way I just did a little further down the sidewalk. “I can’t see much of it.”

I felt a little off the hook.

“Just your cottage cheese thighs, and varicose veins mostly.”

He sounded like he was just joking, but that one really hurt.

“I will have you know, that I used to work out almost every night before the training began. I have a very hard body for a woman my age, Sir.” I said a little more casually than I intended.

He let me get away with it and replied “for a woman your age” to reinforce that I still wasn’t all that.

“Touche’ Sir.” He had made me feel like a horse-faced, flabby, wrinkled fat ass with purple veins. I had seen pictures that Bill and Chris took of me and I didn’t think I was that bad, but maybe I just wasn’t being objective.

“Can I ask where we are going on our date tonight, Sir?” I changed the subject again.

“We are going to the Poop.”

I didn’t understand his reference. He clarified he meant “The Loop”, a shopping center with Bed, Bath and Beyond department stores, clothes, restaurants, movie theater. I still didn’t understand why we would be going there this late at night and for a date. He explained that this is where nearby teenagers go to ‘cruise’ late at night.

That made sense to me. “I remember when I was a teenager, boys used to drive up their cars past the movie theater hoping to meet girls.” I tried to relate to him that I had a similar experience growing up.

“You guys used to have to peddle your car with your feet until Fred bought those big ribs and the car fell over though.”

“Yabba-dabba-hardee-harr-harr, Sir.” I said sarcastically accepting another dig on my age. “It wasn’t quite the Flintstone times, but we did have to worry about Flintlock rifles on our horseless carriages.” I laughed along with him. Truth be told, I remember when the Loop was just a series of cow pastures before some developer decided to put a mega shopping center there.

We continued to walk and talk casually and get to know each other. He asked me about the other types of punishment and when it was okay to do them in public. I could tell he liked the idea of public humiliations.

“It isn’t like the old Salem Witch Trial days. You can’t just dunk me in the lake and expect no one to come to my defense Sir.” I tried to be a voice of reason about using his common sense. There had been no hard and fast rules about what punishments could be publically executed. I had trusted Bill and Chris to use their common sense, which sounds strange considering before the training I never would have admitted they were working with a lot of common sense.

“What about putting your cell phone in your pussy and calling it?”

“Unless you set my ring tone to Rock Me Amadeus and make me listen to it over and over, I don’t know how that is a punishment Sir?” I didn’t hate Rock Me Amadeus. Vicky from work’s cell phone is set to that song and I can always hear her coming around the office when it goes off. It makes my stomach turn.

I didn’t want to think about any science related stuff of the possibility of getting cervical cancer from having a giant battery receiving signals in my cooter.

“You know, on vibrate.” He prodded me.

I had been sticking full sized dildos inside me every day for a week. I couldn’t see my cell phone causing me any consternation. I probably should have pretended it would bother me and beg him not to do it. Instead, I told him that my clit hood was far more sensitive and pinching that or tying string around it was probably far more effective.

I was surprised that he seemed to be taking mental notes from what I told him and seemed to appreciate the insight into what made me tick.

I could see the Loop lit up in the distance by this point in our conversation. “There probably aren’t that many kids your age there, because of the Football game.”

“Kids my age?”

“I am sorry Sir.” I braced for another swat to the ass, but it did not come.

“I am just fucking with you, I know what you mean.” He teased. “Not everyone is as hung up on jock status as your daughter. There should be plenty of ‘kids’ like me there.” He said the word ‘kids’ like an insult.

“I think tonight is Jamie’s final night as a Cheerleader.” Not that the thought had left my mind, but I was once again imagining how horrible things must be going for Jamie right now.

I told him the “Cunt Stunt” Chris had thought up and he had a good laugh at my daughter’s expense.

“She is doing it to show her dad and Chris how sorry we both are for how we treated them. It had to take a lot of courage to give it up. She has been in cheer since she was a little girl, Sir.”

“Today she sucked my cock.” He said bluntly.

“How did you like that, Sir?” I rolled with his comment as if it hadn’t wounded me to hear him brag.

He told me in explicit detail about the bathroom at lunchtime and how the ‘jocks’ had shoved him aside and pissed on Jamie. I wanted to say that the Quarterback was probably gay if the first thing he thought about doing when he saw my Jamie naked was pissing on her, but I just kept my trap shut and listened.

Sheldon described how Jamie had burst in at the end of the day when he was being bullied by two other boys. I had a feeling Sheldon was leaving out something he had done to egg them on, but I didn’t press the issue. I was more curious about my daughter’s behavior.

He went on to describe how she had sucked his cock. Unless I missed my guess, that was the first time for her (and him). Then he told me how she had stripped naked and sucked off the other two boys, promised them another on Monday and posed for them while they took pictures of her.

If I had heard she had done that a week earlier I would never have believed it. It sounded like the stuff of erotic fantasies - An attractive, over-sexed cheerleader blowing three nerdy guys all at once in the library of her school with whore tattooed on her ass and a slave collar around her neck.

Today it sounded very plausible.

“Are you as nasty as your daughter?”

“I might be nastier, Sir.” I wasn’t joking, but I said it like I was.

“Do you like to get fucked in the poop chute?”

“I am only allowed to suck your dick tonight, Sir.” I reminded him, without answering his question.

-thwack- He sliced into my ass with his damned coat hanger and repeated the question.

“I don’t getting fucked up the ‘poop chute’, Sir” I admitted in a somber tone than my earlier answers.

“Does your daughter?”

“She is technically a virgin, Sir.” Being a technical virgin, is kind of like being ‘technically a saint’, I am not sure it really counts in ways that matter.

“You are full of shit.”

“So I have heard, Sir.” I looked down at my empty turd cup and back at him. “As far as I know she hasn’t actually fucked a guy. One of the reasons her father bought these chastity belts I think, is to let her have the option of choosing who she has her first time with.”

He looked at me as if he didn’t believe me.

I knocked on the chastity belt, and then opened my mouth and silently pretended to suck cock and winked. “I promise, you WILL get lucky tonight Sir. I am a good little cock sucker.”

“So if I unlock your belt and just stick my dick in, what are you going to do about it?”

I had a lot of options. My first thought was that I could crush this little twerp like a grape. I decided on, “You probably could sneak your dick inside of me before I could stop you, Sir. Then you would have overstepped your boundary as my handler and I’d escape and that’d be the last my son would rent me out to you.” I was also picturing Bill coming after him with a baseball bat, but I didn’t want to promise he would feel an ounce of jealousy over my humiliation.  He seemed to like me taking cock at work, but that was at his direction. I wasn’t sure how Bill would feel about it to be honest.

“If you want me to be a good little slut for you, be nice to you, compliment you, escort you out for tonight, you CAN take liberties with me, but with authority comes responsibility too, Sir.”

“You think you hold all the cards. That you can negotiate with me and tell me what you will and won’t do.” He sounded a little petty like his father when he made that observation.

I felt like HE held the cards and I was just lucky to cling to the few bad cards life kept dealing me. “What woman would agree to no rules at all, Sir? You could tell me to step out in front of traffic or beat my face in with a baseball bat. You have control of me, tonight. I am yours, Sir.” It felt weird to admit that.

He walked alongside me listening.

“Just like if you rented a car, you have to return it in the same condition you got it in. You have to fill its tank with gas, and not use it to rob banks. You want me to be a naughty slut, I’ll obey as long as you hold my key and my son tells me to, within the rules.”

I still didn’t understand the rules in complete black and white about what was and wasn’t allowed.

“I bet Jamie would let me fuck her up the poop chute.” He said as if he hadn’t heard my impassioned speech.

“I would let you fuck me up the poop chute. You could fuck me silly there.” I felt silly saying ‘poop chute’ but it was his term and I rolled with it. “If Bill or Chris finds out I let you, I’ll be punished, Sir.”

“How would he find out?”

“You could tell him.” Is one way. “He will inspect my cunt and my asshole when I get home. If I am stretched out, I am sure he’ll know something is up.”

“From what I saw, that chubby cunt of yours is already stretched out.” He lobbed another self-esteem busting grenade my way. “You’ve had a metal butt plug in all night, so it will be sore and red anyway.”

“I am sorry my cunt isn’t pleasing to look at to you, Sir.” I forced myself to apologize for something I knew wasn’t true. I wasn’t as tight as Jamie but I knew I had a nice little pussy. It probably wasn’t as perfect as some of the porn store videos out there, but it wasn’t ‘stretched out’. I had to take a breath to admit one more thing. “He will make me squat and wait for cum to drip out of my asshole and cunt, Sir.”

“I thought you said this was your first date with anyone?”

“Every day after work he does that, Sir.” I admitted. He had been  making me lap it up privately when some cream dropped out on the tile.

“That is hot. Does he ever find any?”

“Yes Sir” I told him the truth. I probably could have got away with a lie, but I didn’t want to dig myself any deeper.

“He punishes you for that?”

I didn’t say he did. Instead, I told him, “He makes me lick it all up, like a good cum gobbler, Sir.”

He seemed satisfied by that answer. I knew he thought we were complete perverts, and he probably inferred the licking of the cum was punishment. It was in a way, but he had ordered me to fuck those men at work or given Steve permission to make me. The punishment was karma’s way of getting even with me for enslaving my husband and son.

We were at the shopping center. The football game was still going on, I could hear the drums from the marching band in the distance. There were a lot of people still shopping, but hardly any teenagers. “I think most of the kids are still at the game.”

“My friends don’t go to ‘football games’, he did air quotes around the word football game as if it was code for something else. I wanted to respond “Your friends probably don’t ‘get laid much’ either.” and put air quotes around that. I stifled the urge and smiled at him instead.

He took me first to a Barnes and Noble book store. I should have known this is the first place a geek would pick other than maybe the Best Buy or computer games store.

“People are going to think I am your mom, Sir.” I joked with him. I could already feel people staring at me in the tube top and short skirt. Their facial expression seemed to be asking ‘Why did she take her son here dressed that way’. I knew he was picking up on it too.

“That is cool,” I was not expecting that reaction from him. “When we meet my friends, you are going to tell them you are my Aunt.”

We were already entering the book store and I wasn’t clear on the plan. I am sure I looked nervous and uncertain to him. “I understand, pretend like I just drove you to the book store and everything is perfectly normal. Should I be from your dad’s side of the family or your mom’s?” I wanted to get our cover story straight.

“No dummy, you are my naughty Aunt.” He grinned and swatted me on my ass. “You can be on my dad’s side of the family since you know him a little. His name is Jerry Cooper.”

I nodded that I knew who he was. I didn’t understand what he was saying. “You want them to know you are on a date with me, but I am your Aunt?”

“Yeah, that is hot. That I have control over you.”

I wanted to ask more questions but he was already leading me over to the coffee shop that was inside the book store where his friends were seated at a table. I was completely embarrassed to be my son’s whore and enslaved alongside my daughter. I was actually looking FORWARD tonight to being trained by someone who isn’t a blood relative. I could only assume that Chris would have preferred to control women who weren’t his blood relation as well.

The coffee shop was populated by the usual suspects - The novelist working on the great American novel on his laptop over a cup of joe, the hipsters with their ironic t-shirts and iPhones, and kids that looked like my son.

They were playing ‘Magic the Gathering’. They had an elaborate set up of trading cards with goblins and wizards on the table and seemed to be waiting on Sheldon’s arrival.

As I approached the table, I instantly recognized them. Three of them were the boys from the fair the night before who paid me to kiss my daughter. They didn’t seem to recognize me, probably because I had been painted up  from head to toe like “SpongeBoob” in yellow body paint. I didn’t recognize the fourth boy.

“Clint, Chuck, Todd and Millhouse”

“This is my Aunt Wendy. She’ll be playing with you tonight.” I picked up on Sheldon’s double entendre, but if the others did they didn’t show it.

“Does she know how to play? Does she even have the starter deck?” Millhouse seemed uncharacteristically less timid. I assumed he felt more in his element around books and other nerdy things as I stood nervously shaking my head that I didn’t have any of those things (or know what they were).

“Sheldon you are already late. You didn’t even bring your deck, how can you expect to participate in the Guild of the Planeswalkers if you don’t take this seriously?” The heavy set one named Clint was eyeing me suspiciously as he berated my date.

“You don’t understand,” Sheldon smiled.  “You are going to elect me Grand Wizard of the guild.”

Millhouse scoffed “Not likely.”

“My Aunt is tonight’s prize. Whoever wins tonight’s battle of the Planeswalkers, gets 7 minutes in heaven with her in the Barnes and Noble Bathroom.”

“Yeah, right.” Chuck the red headed boy scoffed this time.

“Aunt Wendy, aren’t you turned on by MTG players?” he explained that I had confided that in him and begged him to take me to tonight’s game so I could participate as a prize.

I didn’t know that MTG stood for ‘Magic the Gathering’ players so it took me a moment to answer that I was. I tried to sound convincing but I doubt I was.

They didn’t seem to believe me, I can’t blame them. I felt ridiculous.

“Succubus, didn’t I summon and bind you after freeing you from the Eldrazi on Zendikar?”

“Yes Sir?” my answer sounded like a question, but I quickly pretended that is exactly what happened. “Yes, on Zeldikar.”

“Show them how you are bound to me.” He held up his key to my belt and looked at me expectantly.

“I am bound by this belt, Sir.” I was speaking in hushed tones but I feared others could hear us in the coffee shop. I lifted my skirt in the front for a moment to display the shiny stainless of my chastity belt and let it drop.

“When Succubus comes into play, draw a card.” Millhouse’s eyes grew wider. They weren’t as wide as they had been the night before when I offered to let him kiss me.

The others laughed at his cryptic reference. I had no idea what he was talking about so I just stood there trying to look sexy. It seemed to be working because they no longer seemed to have their mind on their card battle.

“Do you want to sit with us?” Todd the boy I hadn’t met yet offered. He didn’t seem nerdy at all. He looked like he was about my daughter’s age, handsome, blonde hair. I was surprised non-nerds played games like this.

I looked to Sheldon who answered for me. “My Aunt will stand.” I nodded that is what I would do.

“Face away from the game, put your palms flat on the table in front of you, and wait until you are summoned, Succubus.” Sheldon commanded coldly.

I did as I was told. His friends were clearly impressed with my willingness to obey. “I thought she likes to watch us play?” Clint asked skeptically.

“She does, but it turns her on to be teased. She can hear but not watch.” He asked me to confirm that it did and I nodded yes.

Standing as I was with my ass to them, I could feel their eyes undressing me from behind. That was something I had not grown used too but it was getting easier for me to endure. The hardest part was enduring the disgusted stares of hipsters I was facing as they stared at me with disdain while they sipped their coffee.

“That isn’t your Aunt.” Clint called Sheldon on his bluff.

“You are my Aunt, aren’t you succubus?” Sheldon asked and I nodded yes I was. I felt suddenly parched like I couldn’t talk.

“Why would your Aunt agree to let you bind her like a succubus?” Clint was not buying his cover story. I couldn’t be sure if he was more skeptical I was related to Sheldon or that I was really willing to be a prize in their silly game.

“My fellow Planeswalkers demand evidence, then you shall have it. Let us adjourn to my office.” They led me to the bathrooms of the vast book store. I didn’t want to go into the men’s room but I pretended I wasn’t afraid as we walked in. I was thankful that it wasn’t already occupied.

“Aunt Wendy, you have been bound by a ‘naked singularity artifact’. I cast ‘Flash of Insight’ Remove your clothing this instant and remove all doubt you are in my deck.”

I didn’t understand any of what he said except for ‘remove your clothing’. I decided to go into one of the two stalls and they followed me. “Yes Sir” I took off my top and shimmied out of my skirt as I had done so many times earlier in the day.

They seemed stunned I would get naked in front of them. There was a pregnant pause before Sheldon explained, “My Aunt is my slave, I have some heavy blackmail on her, and now she does whatever I want her to do.”

“That is right, Sir.” I added a little credence to his otherwise hokey premise.

“Wait a minute. I remember those nipples, with the hooped piercings, were you painted up like SpongeBob last night at the fair, with another girl?” Clint sounded sure of himself as he asked the question.

Sheldon and Todd hadn’t been there, but the other two boys were nodding their head in agreement.

“Yes Sir, My Master Sheldon traded me to Madam Chang for the night to work the fair.” I lied.

“So that wasn’t really your daughter you kissed?” Millhouse sounded betrayed as he asked for me to confirm his suspicion he had been lied too.

I looked at Sheldon. He seemed curious and was making me answer the questions.  “That is my daughter, Sheldon’s cousin. She is his slave too, to help me out of my blackmail.” Since I was addressing them all as an audience I didn’t feel “sirs” was the right thing to say.

“What is your blackmail?” Clint asked and clarified “I mean, what did you do to get blackmailed?”

“If I told you that, then I would be all your slaves.” I was surprised I felt in total control at that moment. Even though I was naked except for a chastity belt with my boobs hanging out in only high heels they were completely in my power. I felt like I could have told them anything and they would believe it. They wanted to believe it.

“Did you cheat on your taxes?” Millhouse guessed at the reason for my imaginary blackmail.

I smiled and said “No Sir, I didn’t cheat on my taxes.” It amused me that they seemed to think if someone has a deep dark secret, if you guess it they have to confirm it.

They guessed a few more times and I told them with a smile that wasn’t it.

“She is a MTG groupie, she has been owned by Gabriel Nassif, Kai Budde and Jon Finkel. They keep her and her daughter in a cage during  Pro Tour Qualifier and Grand Prix tournaments.  If anyone beats them in competitive play they get invited back to their hotel suite and my Aunt Wendy sucks their dicks. Isn’t that right?”

I gulped, that sounded like the dumbest thing I had heard in a long time. “Yes Sir, that is exactly right.”

“You know Gabriel Nassif?” Millhouse asked in reverence.

“Yes Sir” I lied.

“2004 Pro Tour Player of the Year?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Highest-ever constructed rating of 2318?”

“Yes Sir.” I guessed it wasn’t a trick question

“So what would happen if anyone finds out your secret?”

“My Brother Jerry would disown me from the family fortune, Sir.” I was just making this up. “If Grand Wizard Sheldon tells his father, it would spell disaster for me.” I pouted my lip.

“Now we know her secret.” Clint looked around at the others as if he had just heard the winning lottery numbers a day in advance of the drawing.

I pretended to be a lot more concerned about it than I really was. This was all make believe role playing anyway. I didn’t see the harm. “Please, you tricked me Wizard.”  I pleaded and in order to really sell the lie I put the back of my hand on my forehead like Scarlet in Gone with the Wind when she is about to feint.

“I take it you believe me now?” Sheldon’s friends all agreed. “You can remain in the stall until the end of the games. My guild and I will send in the winner for his reward.” He held my clothes and he was about to walk out.

Clint said “Oh no, if we all know her secret, then she belongs to all of us, now.”

I should have explained we were roleplaying a scenario of some kind for them. The truth that I belonged to my brother and son and they rented me to Sheldon after his father brought me to his house sounded even more implausible than the fake story.

“Well played Clinthulu.” My date addressed him by what I can only assume is Clint’s online name. “Name your demands?”

“We all get seven minutes in heaven with your aunt!”

I should have known that things would start out innocent and simple and escalate. I quietly did the math in my head. If there were five guys at 7 minutes that is at least 35 minutes. I assumed the store was open for at least another hour. I wondered if someone else would try to use the bathroom in that time.

“Yes, I concede your use of my slave, if you will support me as Grand Wizard of the Guild and keep her secret from my Father.”

“You have MY Axe, Sheldor the Mighty.” Clint offered his support to Sheldon. The others did too.

I almost rolled my eyes, but to my credit I didn’t.

“Turn around that I may unbind you, Aunt Wendy.”

I still couldn’t believe it seemed to turn him on that I was his Aunt. They could see my ass cheeks were tattooed but they couldn’t read the entire words. He fidgeted with my lock while I kept my hands behind my head waiting for him to unhinge me. The waiting can be one of the worst parts because in that time, images flash through your head of all the possible disgusting and painful ways this could go.

“It’s righty-tighty, lefty-loosey.” Chuck offered to Sheldon patronizingly.

“Dude, I made a robot once.” Sheldon sounded a little nervous as he worked the key. He couldn’t be more nervous than I was that the chastity belt might be locked on for good.

“Didn’t you make Shelbot to jerk you off?” Millhouse asked.

“Shut up!” Sheldon punched his friend in the arm and clarified “It just looked like that may be one good use for it.”

When he delivered his explanation the belt came unlocked and with a pop.

“Why do you really keep her in this?” Millhouse asked about my chastity belt.

“This was put on her by Gabriel, only five keys were ever made.” Sheldon lied as if he were telling a tall tale.

“One for each of the five schools of magic?” Millhouse sounded impressed.

“Exactly, and watch as I ease her out of it.” He slowly popped each of the metal bulbs in my metal anal plug out of my ass as he removed my belt entirely and set it on the dirty tile floor.

“Gross!!” They said as they looked at my red sore ass. I was hoping for a more positive reaction and I was glad I was facing with my back to them. Hands behind my head.

“I thought her tattoo said “WUBRG” Clint was confused. He could only see the side letters with the belt covering my crack.

“Hold your ass cheeks open so that the Planeswalkers can have a good look at your tattoo, Aunt Wendy.” Something about how he said that sent shivers down my spine, but at the same time sounded particularly naughty. I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to dominate my Aunts. They had been stodgy old spinsters.

I suppose I could see the attraction to a teenage boy. His mom is too familiar to him. His Aunt though could seem like this sexy older woman who knows the ways of the world, and is an authority figure. In the 1980s there used to be a lot of ‘coming of age’ movies about some summer a handsome fresh-faced kid learns to become a man from an older woman.

If I am not mistaken, Patrick Dempsy the actor who plays Doctor McDreamy on Grey’s Anatomy starred in at least half of those.

“Whore?” Millhouse sounded disappointed. “Why isn’t it Wooberg?” (That is how WUBRG sounds when you say it out loud).

I found it difficult to believe even these nerds had a naked a woman holding her ass apart and they were debating this.

“Gabriel Nassif is French, dummy.” Sheldon explained.

“So?”

“So in France, the colors of magic start with WHORE. He is the one who had her ass tattooed this way.” Sheldon lied with confidence.

“Which just happens to spell Whore?” Clint didn’t believe it.

I was glad I was facing away from them. I clenched my butt cheeks to stifle the laughter on my face. I know I should have been scared but their nerdspeak made them seem harmless and even funny.

I had to give Sheldon points for creativity. He was digging himself deeper and deeper with his lie to impress his friends. I had every reason to be afraid, but I was smiling to myself with my back to them.

“It’s true, I am Gabriel Nassif’s Whore as well. Now I am your whore to command, Planeswalkers.” I felt I should back up my date’s highly implausible story even if I had very little idea what I was talking about.

“Why isn’t your daughter here?” Clint asked me.

“She is on Zendikar.” I hoped that made sense to him.

“No, I mean really.” He asked. “She was really hot.”

  What is with these young guys and insulting the woman offering her naked body to you?

“Yes Sir, she is at Cherry Lawn tonight. She is a cheerleader.”

“Stuck up bitches.” Clint declared and the others seemed to agree.

“I am sorry you think so Sir,” I offered an apology. “We are learning humility as part of our training, which is why we permit powerful wizards to summon and control us.” I hoped I didn’t sound condescending when I told him that.

“Do you remember when my brother Bobby put that tail back up your ass?” Clint asked.

How could I forget? I had offered them my ass when they pulled out Jamie’s “Sandy Buttcheeks” squirrel tail and let them insert it.

“Yes Sir, that was very nice of your brother to give back the tail.” I tried to sound positive. It was already done and in truth I was having a little fun with this elaborate lie. It reminded me of when we shined on Mrs. Waxerman in order to get a rise out of her on some level.

“Do you remember agreeing to get a slushee, but then not doing it?” Chuck asked.

I did remember that, but not quite as he explained it. “Yes Sir, I remember agreeing to let you throw donuts at us and pour a slushee on our heads if you would give back my daughter’s tail, but someone came up and you ran off before you could do it.”

“So you use a slushee.” Chuck demanded.

I nodded in agreement. I was in the bathroom whatever they dumped on my head I could wash off. I would have enjoyed the cool off at that moment.

“Actually two, one for her and one for her stuck up daughter who picked cheerleading over the weekly Guild of the Planeswalkers meeting.” Millhouse piled on.

“Wow, you really are a whore.” Sheldon sounded impressed. “I wish I had gone to the fair, but I was home leveling up my Druid.”

“My Husband plays World of Warcraft, Sir.” I offered.

“I don’t care what my Uncle plays. He isn’t to know about what a pig you are if you keep your mouth shut and obey!!” He swatted me with his metal wire.

“That’s what those stripes are on her ass!” Chuck said finally understanding the red welts on my butt.

“Please Sir, you can punish me for my insolence. It was wrong of me to speak out of turn and I submit to your Slushees”

“They don’t sell Slushees in the Coffee Shop.” Todd spoke up. He was the only voice behind me that didn’t sound completely in love with what they were doing to me.

“Well, we could use hot chocolate.” Millhouse said bluntly.

I almost gasped in horror at the idea of hot cocoa burning my scalp.

“No Dummy” Sheldon chided his friend. I was relieved to hear a voice of reason. “Those are like 3 bucks each. Let’s just give her a swirly instead.”

“Two swirlies!”

I vaguely remembered the concept of a swirly from my high school days. The boys had me kneel on the cold tile floor and put my head right above the toilet bowl.

“Put a finger from each hand up your butt.” Clint demanded. “I don’t want you using your hands to grab one of us, when we do this.”

I complied without hesitation. I think they were surprised I didn’t offer some resistance.

I could hear them confer with each other about how to properly administer the swirly. I waited for the sentence to be executed picturing my head on the toilet like someone waiting on the guillotine.  It seemed all of them had been on the receiving end of one of these but none had ever done it. Millhouse even suggested I give myself one but the thought of trying to dunk my own head in a swirling toilet seemed worse than someone else dunking me.

Todd asked impatiently “Are we going to have sex with her?”

“Yes, everyone gets seven minutes. Let’s just do the swirlies first.

“Wouldn’t it make sense to do that at the end, so her head isn’t all wet?” Todd seemed like the real voice of reason of the group.

A short debate about who would be going first broke out. I am sure I heard “Spock”, “George Lucas” and “Fireball Spell” mentioned making it possibly the strangest debate about who was going to get their cock sucked first.

“Would you all like to go at once?” I am not sure if I just wanted the debate to end or I was feeling adventurous.

They froze their debate, with a sudden interest.

“If you are a guild, you can pool your seven minutes. I have two hands, I can do you all at once.” I told myself I was trying to freak them out so they might back down, but a part of me wanted to see what they would say.

There was a little homophobia about seeing each other’s cock, and I think Clint was the first to take his pants down.

“May I take my fingers out of my ass to serve you with my hands?” I had been the plaything of a few guys, but never five at once. This was something I could cross off my bucket list, when I decide to write a bucket list.

“Ewww gross, yes if you clean it off first.”

I put my fingers in my mouth and gave them a slow scrubbing with my tongue to simulate a passionate cock sucking. I was facing them now and they were all sliding down their pants or had them down around their ankles already.

I took my date in my mouth, wrapping my lips around his cock. He was already hard and I felt obliged to give him first shot at my mouth.

To my immediate left was Clint and I pulled his dick closer to me with a free hand while I remained on my knees. His manhood wasn’t all that impressive but I began to stroke it in the hopes I could pull him off with just my hand. I had become pretty skilled at that this past week.

On my right was Millhouse. He backed away from my hand when I reached for him as if I was going to play, “I got your nose” and pull it off of him. I wasn’t looking until I actually got the slab of meat in my hand. He couldn’t weigh more than 100lbs and at that moment I thought half of him was probably cock.

I had to look at his monster. “That belongs in a porno” I gasped as Sheldon turned my head back to his dick. I played with his dick, but felt I wasn’t doing it justice without two hands.

“What about us?” Chuck said, probably holding his dick in his hands waiting his turn.

“Can you put it between my big titties?” I said, although it probably sounded more like, “Carnf You Puttth tween my Bigth Titteesthsss” since my mouth was full of young cock.

“How about I put it in your pussy?”

I tried to protest. Honestly, journal you know I never lie to you. Okay, I have left out a few of the more embarrassing details of my life, but those are things I am not likely to ever forget. You know I am a good wife and I tried to obey my instructions but with five boys on me, I had little choice.

I felt Chuck mount me from behind and I tried to back off his dick, but Sheldon forced me forward choking me on his pecker. I continued to stroke Clint and Millhouse in as even a manner as I could so that I didn’t interrupt their orgasm as I wiggled my ass in an attempt to keep it from being part of their dirty little game.

Chuck only saw my resistance as teasing. He slapped me on the butt, not hard, just enough to let me know he was not going to stop. Then he put his cock into my pussy and began to pump.

Todd was the only one left without a hole or a hand.

“How am I going to get it in her with you behind her?” he asked Chuck.

I didn’t put up much of an objection as I kissed Sheldon’s cock and jerked off the other two guys. I am sure none of them felt like they were raping me since I was so willing. In my mind, I was telling myself I was being raped and I was orgasming at the loss of control.

“Double Penetration, dude.” Clint answered Todd while enjoying my hand job and massaging my back. They may have been virgins, but I soon discovered that they watched enough porn that when given a chance at the real thing they were ready to dive into the deep end of kink.

Todd didn’t understand him, and I was already tuning things out in a sweaty, panting lustful disgusting orgy.

“Chuck gets under her, she leans over the toilet, and you take her from behind.”

“Fuck her in the ass?” Todd asked

“Yes, pull my hair?” I offered meekly.

“What?” Todd asked me to speak up.

“Pull my hair Gabriel, fuck me from behind!!”  I felt like a porno slut who was asking for a rough fucking.

“Am I Gabriel?” he asked.

“Yes, Gabriel, fuck me up my ass! Please….I want you to cum inside me.” I begged. I have to admit to being lost in the moment and this had gone well past the point of ‘just playing along with Sheldon’s game’.

“Am I Jon Finkel?” Millhouse asked, “Winner of the 2008 Pro Tour in Koala Lampur and..” he was about to list his statistics when I cut him off.

“If Jon Finkel has the biggest cock I have ever seen, then yes you are Jon Finkel.” I turned and hungrily gobbled his dick while shifting hands so that I could pull on Sheldon’s slippery dick with a free hand.

They each gave themselves names of famous Magic the Gathering players. That night I fucked Gabriel Nassif, Kai Budde, Jon Finkel, David Williams and Noah Boeken. I have no idea what those people look like in real life, but for those “seven minutes in heaven” that is who Sheldon’s friends were to me.

The internet has really changed sexuality for their generation. I can’t claim to have been the innocent victim just going along with it like a naked ragged doll. I don’t want to admit that I was coaxing them, encouraging them, stroking them, slurping them. I slurped balls, cocks, I think I even ate out someone’s asshole.

Okay, I don’t think. Yes, I did. The fat one put his ass in my face and I tickled his pink virgin butthole with the tip of my tongue. “Wicked Aunt Wendy!” I thought to myself, but in for a penny, in for a pound.

I let each of them get a piece of my pussy, and two of them shot their cum up my ass. I kept driving my pussy onto Millhouse’s dick in the hopes I could make him cum before it was his turn to take my ass. I felt like he was busting out my pussy and I could only imagine how truly wore out my asshole would look when I got done taking him from behind.

I slurped each cock after it had been inside of me, tasting my wet steamy juices without concern for what Chris and Bill would do when they find out. I was being a pig and letting my pent up sexual tensions out. I had been under discipline, fucking people because they wanted me to fuck them, sucking them, serving them, but right now I was fucking these boys because I wanted too.

It was hot, dirt on your knees from the tile floor, sweaty, grimy, bathroom stall sex and I was loving it.

Four of them had cum, and now they were nursing their dicks and some were pulling their pants back on. Millhouse was the lone holdout. He was under me while I bent over the toilet so that my ass could be fucked by someone.

His leg muscles weren’t very strong so I drove my body on his substantial pecker. “You are going to make some lady a wonderful husband, Millhouse.” I offered him my puckered lips to kiss his face and he backed away shyly.

I almost laughed remembering how he had hid behind his friends the night before. I could smell the musky smell of my wet pussy mixed with sweat and salty cum in the air. I reached out my hands to offer them to the boys if they wanted to go a second time while I finished Millhouse off.

I had lost track out of who had what inside of me and what hole - Fingers probing me when dicks were going soft because they had just pumped me full of hot semen.

They had been timid at first, even polite. By the end they had mauled my tits in their hands and pulled my hair, I think because I encouraged it. I even asked them to choke fuck me and the only reason they didn’t was probably because I didn’t explain it. I was beyond naughty, I was being a true cum pig and I can’t tell you why. I may have had a lapse in judgment, I may have had some pent up resentments and sexual energy from being controlled on a metaphorical leash, in a very sexualized environment.

I don’t know if I was in control. I think not. I think the boys were completely in control, but I wasn’t afraid. They could have put anything in any hole and I wouldn’t have complained. I took everything they could give and I asked for more.

I am sure it was much longer than 7 minutes we were in there. He not only had the largest cock I had ever seen face to face and had in my mouth, but he had the most endurance. He didn’t have any idea how to use it, but as satisfied as I was from the fucking I had received I was ready to wash these boys clothes by banging them on a rock and make them a sandwich, and bring them lemonade like a fully satisfied woman should.

“Do you want to put it up my Ass, Millhouse?”

“I wish you would call me Levi.” He sounded perturbed.

“Oh I am so Sorry, Levi, how about I call you Sir?” I remembered I was supposed to be submissive and not the aggressive cock hound I let myself become.

Then he shot his load into me. This was a full release of several table spoons of cum. He started to tighten under me and cover his eyes with hands. I thought he might even be crying. I rode his dick until the last of his cum was in my sopping wet pussy and said, “Thank You Levi” as I finally ground to a halt.

I felt like I had been on one of those rides at the fair that spin you around and around and then finally comes to a complete stop and you are left facing reality again. Scratch that, I felt like I WAS one of those rides and I had just let off my final passenger.

My hair was a sweaty mess and what little make up I had on was running down my face. I hadn’t had a raw and gritty sexual experience like this in my life.

I was just now starting to process that I should have some regrets about what I just did. I may have taken most of their virginities in a Barnes and Noble bathroom.

“I am ready for my swirlies now, Sir. Would you like me to assume the position and put my fingers up my asshole again?” I offered the punishment. Journal, I don’t want you to get the impression I am a glutton for punishment. I really was counting on the fact that I had given them a wonderful ride on the ‘Good Ship Wendypop’ and the fact that they were out of breath from cumming that they would give me a reprieve.

My theory that as soon as most men orgasm all their nasty, dirty thoughts leave their mind needs some examination when it comes to teenage boys. Clint still gasping for air as he clutched his needs nodded and twirled his finger for me to turn around and face the toilet.

“Yes Sir” I agreed sounding like the most pitiable creature in the world as they pulled up their pants.

I am not sure who shoved my head in the toilet first, but it was at that point I realized there were cigarette butts floating at the top of the water. I remember a sudden hard thrust on the back of my head and blowing bubbles out of my mouth in the yellow, tepid water as I screamed,  “FLUSH FIRST”

They flushed as my head went down into the dirty toilet, and the water began to spin around my head as they submerged my entire face in the water.

I didn’t hear them come in, but as I was coming up for air from the swirly I could hear the boys I was with running out of the bathroom stall.

When I turned to look behind me, all I could say was “Oh, no!”

The Family Feud III

Chapter Thirty-Two
“Tums spelled backwards is Smut”

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 36
Get out of jail cards: 1
WHORE: 1,3,1,0,0
JAMIE: 39
Get out of jail cards: 1
WHORE: 1,3,1,0,0

**The Taylor’s Story returns to the previous narrative voice.

Jamie was standing almost naked with orange and black latex/body paint in a chastity belt in front of the rear door to the Player's locker room. Her head and arms were in between two wooden slabs that served as a form of makeshift “stocks” like the ones she had been in the night before at the fair.

Chris had gone inside the locker room to find some football players to help him with 'phase two' of the 'Cunt Stunt'. A stunt that would completely destroy her reputation at school.

“I am surprised Cathy Griffin had nothing to say about this.” Bill made conversation while standing with his daughter and Buford by the side door. He could hear the crowd cheering the half-time show but he knew they couldn't see him. They were under an awning beneath the bleachers.

“I guess she was worried about Hope, Sir.” Jamie said. She was trying to look confident and yet her nerves were starting to eat at her wondering what would happen when her brother came back from the locker room. She was having second thoughts about going through with it.

Ten feet from the locker room, when they pass the awning and run out on the field, there is no going back. She was already painted, she was already here, she already knew she wouldn't be going back.

“She didn't seem too worried about that girl either.” Bill said disapprovingly. His mind was on Hope's dad as he thought about his words. He wondered if he could have ended up a spineless jellyfish groveling like him under different circumstances. He did like teenager ass, and he had willingly ended up cuckolded by his wife at first.

He didn't have too much time to speculate as one of the players stuck his head out the door. “This better be for real, Taylor.” He demanded as he peaked out.

“Holy Buttfuck, you weren’t kidding.” Dave Stravosky #31 still padded up, opened the door so Chris could come out too. He looked Jamie’s nearly naked body up and down as he walked around her.

“Hello Sir.” Jamie tried to seem chipper about what was about to happen.

“You are one crazy bitch, you know that?” Dave’s toothy smile reminded Chris of an Alligator about to bite down on its prey.

“Yes Sir, I guess truth be told, I am.” She kept her chin up, looking straight ahead while he rubbed his finger along her butt cheek and tasted the latex.  “Will you carry me on field?”

“Will you suck my dick?” He asked reflexively.

“If I am allowed too, yes sir.” She looked at her brother.

“Fuck, you are a twisted little bitch. Who are these two old dudes?” He noticed Bill and Buford for the first time with some apprehension.

“That is my Father and Buford.”

“Your fucking father?” Dave could hardly believe it. “You know your precious little slut asked me to piss on her today in the bathroom?”

“The way I heard it told, you guys pissed on her while she was playing with herself. She didn’t even see you coming?” Bill summarized Jamie’s version of events.

That was strangely comforting to Jamie that he had automatically taken her side and defended her. She knew he had to act like he didn’t believe her and verify everything she did because of the rules, but she was pleased when it came down to it, he took her word over someone else.

Buford was beside himself with amusement. He hadn’t heard this story before and listening was giving him a hard-on and causing him to rock out.

“What is this retard’s problem?” Dave ignored what Bill had to say and focused on Buford. Dave’s ignoring the question made Bill conclude Jamie’s version of events was the correct one.

“Did you know Tums spelled backwards is Smut?” Buford asked very seriously.

“Your family is like the freak show without the tent.” Dave shook his head in disbelief.

No one answered, but at least one of the Taylor’s took that as a compliment. It might have been all three.

“If I get two other guys to run you out on the field, you will suck our cocks?” Dave said trying to make sure he understood the deal.

“She’d suck off the entire team if we told her too.” Chris said with supreme confidence.

Dave wasted no time going back into the locker room to retrieve his friends Noah and Thad. “Where can we do this?” He was scanning around for a place to get his dick sucked.

“The half-time show is almost over, can you run me out there first, Sir?” Jamie pleaded politely.

“How do we know you’ll keep your end of the deal?” Noah asked skeptically.

“Guys, I promise you, my daughter WILL suck your dick.” Bill said emphatically. “It will probably be the best cock cleaning of your entire life.”

“Whoa, her dad is here?” Noah laughed. Dave’s version of the plan had left out that detail when he summoned his friends. “Fuck it.”

He lifted her on his shoulder with the help of the two other stout football players.  For all her confidence that she previously exhibited in the locker room, once she was hoisted up in the air, Jaime’s body instinctively shivered with a nervous uncontrollable twitching.  Her breathing was intense, rapid and labored.  One look into her eyes and it was easy to see a look of fear and uncertainty. It was clear to everyone that she must have been having second thoughts. Who wouldn’t have?  She was about to be carried out practically naked in front of literally thousands of people – students that she knew and had interacted with every day, parents and neighbors who knew her as just an innocent teen. Despite all the experiences she had endured the past few weeks, they were, after all, conducted in front of a limited few. Now she was going to pull out all the stops and expose herself on a scale like never before.

Jamie’s eyes darted this way and that as if she was checking for danger. Once her gaze fell upon Cathy, she lingered as if to draw courage or perhaps to send her a message that she was strong and committed – that nothing could intimidate her – not even Cathy.   But those that knew her best weren’t so sure. Still the other cheerleaders couldn’t help but look upon Jaime with admiration. Who among them could be so brave?

“You know you will probably get suspended for this?” Thad told her, but it was too late for her to answer they were already running on field.

Hey Hey are ya Ready? Are ya Ready

To strut your stuff …..

Hey Hey are ya Ready? Are ya Ready

To get fired up

Bill noticed for the first time, with the skimpy outfits and the butt shaking that his daughter and her friends had always really been just glorified titty dancers given legitimacy only by the fact that shaking their asses at football games was a tradition.

The cheer seemed like perfect timing as the home town football heroes came charging onto the field holding Jamie as if she were a trophy over their heads, Jamie’s long blonde hair billowing behind her in the humid night air. The crowd cheered assuming that the vibrantly painted young lady was part of the night’s festivities.

Bill watched as Jamie looked over the crowd – all eyes were upon her. No one was leaving their seats making a run for the concession stand.  The crowd could sense there was something special about this half-time show and no one dared to move less they miss it.

Peanut Butter

Reeses Cup!

You mess with us!

We'll kick your butt!

Our hands are high!

Our feet are low!

and that’s the way the Trojans go!

The other girls took a position in a semi-circle around Jamie clapping “Trojan’s Got it…Trojan’s Got it” in rhythm to the reverberating beat of the marching band.

Jamie looked down and saw the football players looking right up between her legs – what a view they were getting of her incredibly wet sex and no one knew except those immediately surrounding her.  She stiffened her muscles and tried to stiffen her resolve as well, as she scanned the stadium restrained as she was in the stocks.

Just as she was about to chicken out the crowd cheered and clapped excitedly. Her moment had arrived. It was now or never! Jamie did a back flip off the backs of the football players and broke out of the stocks as if she had practiced this move for months. In her mind, she had done it a hundred times. It worked and the crowd erupted with delight.

Standing in her body-hugging latex which did little to conceal her intimate parts from the crowd she continued, “In the year 1250 BC, Helen of Troy was snuck out like a captive and taken by Trojan Heroes to the city of Troy.” Jamie jumped around her titties bouncing in the night air. She could have shouted “Fleep-flapp-flandangle” and most of the crowd would have cheered the spectacle.

“She left her husband to come to Troy of her own free will. When her husband found out, he sent Agamemnon the RAM to get her back!!”

Her fellow cheerleaders and the football players booed and hissed when the name of the Rams was spoken, using their body language to encourage the crowd to do the same.

“But you know what?” she expertly wiggled her ass as if the routine had been planned.

There was no solidified response from the crowd, so Jamie asked again, this time cupping her ear as if she wanted to hear the crowd.

“You know what, Trojans?”

The other girls, even Cathy shouted it with her the third time.

“WHAT?”Came the thunderous reply from the crowd in unison.

“I aint going back to NO Union City!!!!!!! Orange and Black colors don’t run!!!!!” She executed a perfect toe touch jump kicking her legs out in a split and placing her arms out on either side of her to reach for her toes.

The crowd exploded with excitement.

By now the teachers, coaches and staff had realized this was not part of the festivities.

We are the Trojans n we live in a hut.

'n if u dont believe us, than watch us shake our butt,

Uh sha bang bang, uh sha wana wana,

Uh sha bang bang, uh sha wana wana!

Jamie was performing along with them, gyrating and dancing in line. A teacher ran up and put his jacket around her to walk her off the field.  One of the coaches escorted the football players off the field, from his expression they were in trouble as well.

The half-time show continued unabated as if that had just been a skit of some kind. Jamie had seemed completely cool and confident as she performed. No one else could be aware of the war going on inside of her of mixed emotions, questioning her commitment to follow through with this ‘stunt’ and her sense of decency.

The entire student body, all the parents and faculty had just seen her basically naked in latex and a chastity belt dancing around to the story of Helen of Troy as if it were part of the show.

Bill, Buford and Chris followed the teacher who was taking Jamie off the field to an Office.

“Hi, I am her father, Sorry about that.”

“Did you have permission to do that?” The Teacher asked, looking her up and down. He seemed shocked and confused by her body paint.

“Was I supposed to have permission? I am a cheerleader, Sir.” Jamie said with confidence. Her tone made it sound like she thought being a cheerleader was all the permission she needed to do anything. She knew it didn’t but that was the point of her stunt.

“I hope you have on a bikini under that body paint?” The teacher said with concern. He was in his mid-thirties and seemed to be wrestling with his conscious. He should be telling her how bad her behavior was, and at the same time he liked the shape and outline of her pert butt cheeks in the orange and black paint.

“It’s latex, silly.” Jamie pretended to be a ditzy blonde. “Why would I wear anything underneath it? You can’t see through it.” She pretended she didn’t notice the entire outline of her pussy, nipples, and ass crack was plainly visible.

The Teacher spoke into a CB radio to summon the principal. He didn’t want to keep talking and tempting himself.

“Sorry, dealing with something here, can you handle it?” The deep voice of acting Principal Dragovich answered on the CB.

“A cheerleader did a very suggestive skit during half-time, I don’t think it was planned, Ktsch.” The Teacher answered.

“Murphy, don’t say Ktsch at the end of every sentence.” The Principal’s voice corrected the teacher. “Suggestive skits are what cheerleaders do. I am actually dealing with a cheerleader who was running around completely bottomless right now.”

“Do you want me to come help you with that?” the teacher asked into the CB Radio.

“Don’t be a pervert, Murphy. I gave the student something to wrap around her. I am just waiting for her mother, because the Father is a basket case too.”

“Okay, what should I do with the cheerleader here?” Murphy asked.

“Are her parents there?” The Principal asked over the radio.

“I forgot to ask, Are both of you her Dad or?” He asked Buford and Bill, inferring they may be a gay couple.

Bill spoke up and said “I am her Dad. Is my daughter in trouble?”

“Is the cheerleader in trouble?” Murphy repeated the question into the radio.

“I don’t know, I’ll have to review the tape of the half-time show when I get back to my office. You can send them home.”

“He doesn’t know, he’ll have to review the tape of the half time show when he gets back to the Office. You can go home.” Murphy smiled.

Bill had heard every word that the Principal said over the radio. “Thank you.”

Jamie hugged Bill and Chris on the way out to the truck, smiling!

She turned back to look behind her as they walked out of the office. She saw Mr. Murphy was watching her walk away intently. She gave him a wink, blew him a kiss and turned to walk off with her owners.

Meanwhile….

The Barnes and Noble men’s bathroom had just been the scene of a small orgy of geeks and nerds depositing their cum into Wendy’s face, pussy and asshole.

The teenage boys were in the process of issuing her a ‘swirly’ to make up for an agreement she had made the night before about having a ‘slushee’ dumped on her head.

She had been left mid-swirl with her head dunked in the water, naked and sweaty when the door opened. The boys had taken her clothing on the way out except for her chastity belt in their haste to get out of the room.

She was just pulling her wet head out of the slimy tank as she saw them.

Three guys much bigger than Sheldon and his friends. They were easily in their early twenties. There was a black guy, a Hispanic guy and a white guy.

Wendy was sore all over from the whippings, beatings and fucking she had just received. She couldn’t begin to process the peril she was suddenly in. It had been one thing to be fucked by Sheldon’s friends. She had even coaxed them to be a little rougher and harder on her.

Now there were three nasty looking guys glaring down at her as she lay on the dirty tile floor. She turned around so she could face them but remained on the ground with her elbows resting against the toilet seat.

“Did they rape you?” The white guy asked. His name was Anthony.

“I..I..um, no.” Wendy tried to get her bearings. She didn’t want Sheldon’s guild of nerds getting into trouble.

“So you got naked and fucked them of your free will?” The black guy asked incredulously. His name was Eric.

It had been her choice. She could have run out of the bathroom she told herself. She had not only let them, she had encouraged them. It hadn’t been her intention to have sex, but when her belt had been removed it just kind of happened. She tried to formulate an answer while she nodded yes.

“You came here just wearing that?” The Hispanic guy said without a trace of an accent. His name was George. He pointed to her chastity belt, now lying next to her.

“No Sir, I think they may have grabbed my clothes.”

“Why do you keep calling us Sir? We aren’t the police.” The black guy asked. Wendy perceived an aura of menace about his voice as if he were asking nicely, but there was a hidden agenda to his questions.

Wendy felt strange without someone around to report on her if she failed to use the proper protocol. It felt more embarrassing to tell them the answer now that Chris and Bill weren’t around to make her say it. She debated not telling them before answering “You are my superiors, so I refer to you appropriately, Sir.” She smiled.

“Why were you hanging out with those geek-boy losers?” The white guy asked after accepting her unusual response with some skepticism. He was staring at her tits as she shivered on the tile floor.

“I was on a date, Sir.” She answered truthfully, hoping that would somehow explain it all. She had felt helpless being tied up and controlled all week but this was a new kind of helpless. She knew she would never be able to just run out the bathroom door even if she wanted too. She had been ordered or agreed to earn her stars and letters all week, but right now she felt like a cornered lamb facing three hungry wolves.

“You went on a date with one of them?” Eric asked.

“We chase those losers out of here every week,” George said. “You were fucking them?”

Wendy paused for what felt like a small eternity. She finally answered “Yes Sir.”

“Holy shit, you rob the cradle, girl. How about you get with a real man?” George crouched down to make his offer.

Wendy wasn’t sure what to say. She had been required to submit up to this point, but now she was being solicited.

“I don’t think so.” She started to get up and examine her chastity belt.

Anthony touched her shoulder “Wait a minute, you don’t think so?” He asked as if he was deeply offended. “You’d rather fuck teenagers than real men? What is wrong with you?”

Wendy considered these young men half her age still ‘boys’ to some extent. They were full grown in every way, all standing over 6 foot tall and weighing about 200lbs. She was already regretting her tryst with the guild of nerds and wondering why she had been so lustful as she searched for an answer to his question.

“I should probably try to get dressed. The store will be closing soon, Sir.” Wendy’s libido was no longer daring her to be naughty. These older guys seemed dangerous to her and she wanted to get her clothes back on.

“I bet you’d like it if you tried it.” Eric reached his powerful arm across Wendy’s chest to block her from standing up and looked at her longingly.

“They say once you have black, you never go back!” George offered a high five to the black guy hovering over Wendy and he returned the slap of his friend.

Wendy had fucked a lot of guys this past week. Some of whom she had never met until shortly before they put their dick in her pussy. In each case, she had felt there was someone watching out for her. Even if they were only shouting distance away she had felt like she had been on the tight rope but with a safety net below. Even if she had her mouth gagged and her hands tied, she had this sense of security when she had fucked people. She wasn’t feeling that same way right now. She wasn’t sure if sex was all they wanted, they had maniacal looks in their eyes.

She felt like the heroine in those old black and white movies that the villain has tied to the train tracks. She didn’t want to anger them, right now they were being kind to her.

She reached out her hand to caress the black one that was blocking her from standing up. He smiled.

Then he gave her a sudden back hand to the face. “Bitch, don’t touch me.”

The three of them laughed at her sudden awareness that this was not going to be a pleasant experience. “You like it rough don’t you, Chica?” George asked without concern for her answer.

She wasn’t sure if she had just nodded yes, but in moments their pants were off and she was bent over the toilet. The three men seeming to have no issue with each other’s nudity or sharing this slut they had just found.

Erik’s big black dick was thrusting in and out of her mouth and George was behind her. She offered her hand to Anthony but he bent her wrist back and caused her to scream a muffled cry into the dick in her mouth.

“Bitch, you think I need your help to jerk off? Shut up.” Anthony warned.

“Mmmm, her tears are delicious.” George tasted the ones rolling down Wendy’s face as he slammed her from behind over the toilet fucking her hard and raw.

“Are you in her ass or pussy?” Erik asked his friend.

“Juicy pussy, why?” George was fucking her hard and concentrating on getting himself off.

“Let me have a crack at that asshole.” Anthony tapped his friend on the shoulder.

“Fuck you, man. Let me get a nut first.” George stood up to his friend and furiously pumped Wendy until he finally unloaded all his cum.

Anthony’s turn came behind her next.

“Sloppy seconds, bro.” George laughed as he stepped away from the slut he had just forced his seed into.

Anthony was adjusting Wendy’s ass, “Dude, she fucked all five of those guys before we got in here, you got sloppy sixths.” Wiping the smile off George’s  happy face.

“What is this fucking tattoo?” He pulled Wendy’s hair like the reigns of a mare he had just saddled.

Wendy couldn’t answer as Erik was forcing his cock into her throat, choking her air and causing her to almost gag. She would have definitely thrown up if she hadn’t already had a lot of practice all week from cocks being shoved down her throat.

Anthony punished her silence by cramming his dry cock directly up Wendy’s pink and sore asshole without mercy.

“Wow, it fits right up that asshole like a glove!” he spanked her ass with his hand. She was bent over the toilet and as he started to fuck her, he used his arms to row her back and forth on his cock. “You better not shit on my dick, you fucking old slut.”

She didn’t say anything in response, she couldn’t with her mouth full of cock.

Erick was the next to spurt his cum down her throat. “Ahhhhhhhhh, that’s it.” He tapped his black dick in her mouth as he shook out all his white juice.

Anthony took a little longer to finish and when he was almost ready to pop he pulled out and jizzed all down Wendy’s back laughing as he did. “God damn, look at that turned out asshole.” He jammed a thumb in and twisted it inside of her.

They left her on the tile floor like a rag doll they had just wiped their cum in. They hadn’t hurt or killed her, instead they had just used her and laughed at her. Wendy felt like crying as they walked away but almost laughed. A part of her told her that had she not endured this past week that would have felt like rape. It had felt like service and she had been able to accept it, only because she had received the training she had.

She laid on the floor for a little longer unable to move. She was wore out, sore and she felt like crying.

The door opened once again and she turned in horror to wonder who it was this time.

Her valiant “date” and his friends had returned now that George, Anthony and Erik had left.

“See I told you my aunt would be fine.” Sheldon explained to his friends as they looked down at the woman rolling around on the floor at their tennis shoes.

“Did you fuck them too?” Clint sounded jealous in how he asked the question.

“Yes Sir” Wendy croaked holding her stomach. She felt cramped and her throat muscles were sore when she spoke.

“We brought your clothes back.” Todd offered as if to cheer her up.

“Thank you Sir, that was very thoughtful.” Wendy roused herself to sit up and look at the boys assembled around her. She sniffed back a tear, as she ran her finger through her wet hair.

“We don’t have time to give you another swirly.” Sheldon said to her as if she might be waiting for her second swirly. “The store is closing, you have to get dressed.”

“May I wash myself off in the sink, Sir?” Wendy was starting to regain her composure and bearings.

“I don’t think so. What is the point in having a clean whore?”

She nodded in understanding to her ‘date’ and acting nephew, “Do I have time to put my chastity belt back on, Sir?”

“Fine, hurry up though slut.”

“Thank you Sir.” Wendy couldn’t believe how natural it was to hear herself thank someone for giving her permission to put on a tight chastity belt that was going to drive a plug up her ass and rest a French tickler on her sore pussy lips.

She was able to get the belt on unassisted, forcing the bulbs past her anal opening quickly. She had to turn and wait for Sheldon to fidget with the key behind her until there was a solid ‘click’ of the lock to snap it around her waist.

She put on her skirt and top quickly and adjusted herself in the mirror for as long as they would permit. Her hair and makeup were a complete mess.

“I am afraid I lost my cup, Sir.” She said quietly as a joke.

None of them understood her attempt at Gallows humor in pretending that the biggest concern had been the dirty Arby’s cup. She assumed Chris would have laughed.

“Do you think those guys will think we are cool?” Sheldon asked of the tormenters who had just roughly fucked Wendy and left. “They fuck with us every week,” He admitted.

Wendy wanted to answer yes, since Sheldon seemed to be hoping for an increase in status amongst the bullies who tormented him. Wendy shook her head that she wasn’t certain as a way of avoiding the truth. She knew that those men who had fucked her and left her there like a cum rag, had about as much regard for her as they did for Sheldon and his friends.

She almost vomited when she felt the tube top stick to her back from her cum and sweat. The degrading experience had been taking its toll on her mind and her nerves were frazzled. Her body was sore as she looked at herself in the bathroom mirror.

Millhouse asked with a swagger that didn’t seem to fit such a timid young man, “I bet that pussy is busted?”

“Yes Sir, I think it is.” She smiled assuming it was the kind of gallows humor Chris would use to make an awful situation a little more bearable.

He had intended the question to make him sound like a bad-ass, but when she smiled and agreed he quickly pretended that was the response he had expected all along so as not to lose face with his friends.

Wendy followed them out of the bathroom as the boys joked with one another.

“Was this your first time?” Clint asked Millhouse.

“Hell no!” Millhouse answered emphatically. When no one seemed to believe him he added “I have a girlfriend in Canada.”

They didn’t believe that either. Wendy wanted to mention that was a line from the 1980s movie Breakfast club and 16 Candles, but she wasn’t sure how much joking the ‘guild’ was in the mood for. She could read Bill and Chris and she felt they would have tolerated a well-placed comment here, but she decided to remain quiet.

There was an announcement that all final purchases should be made as the store would be closing shortly.

Wendy had just survived what was at the very least a gang bang and at worst a rape. She was feeling oddly optimistic that the worst was behind her if she could just put up with things for a few more hours until she’d be home. She was tormented and humiliated at home, but it was a question of the devil you do know over the one you don’t.

Wendy even managed a halting smile as they left the bathroom. She had fucked eight guys in the last hour, which had been considerably more than anything she had ever done in the past. She felt freed from the weight of the fear of something that disgusting and wild happening. It had finally happened. What else could be worse? She thought to herself.

Then she ran into Vicky from work.

Meanwhile….

“Dad, may I put on my clothes?” Jamie said with the self-satisfied look of someone who had faced a fear and kicked it’s ass.

“Dad?” Bill looked at her with one eye-cocked.

“I am sorry, Sir. I mean Sir, I mean Sir.” Jamie apologized next to their truck in the parking lot of the football game. The parking lot was packed full of cars, trucks and mini-vans but no one else was around since the game hadn’t ended. “It’s just when you and Chris are together, sometimes it’s hard to address just one of you?”

“Why didn’t you ask me, Ass face?” Chris looked angry.

“I am so sorry Sir.” Jamie had really just been lost in the reverie of what she had just done. It had tremendous repercussions to her reputation at school. She wasn’t sure if she would even be on the squad, she might even be suspended. “I wasn’t thinking. I am sorry Sir, I know my place.”

“Don’t you think if I wanted you to put on clothes, I would tell you?” Bill folded his arms. “Turn around, put your hands behind your head.”

“Yes Sir, it was foolish of me to anticipate. I am so sorry for that.” Jamie sounded genuinely apologetic and concerned she had just lost all the good-will she may have earned with her stunt. Jamie did as she was told as her father unlocked her chastity belt. Bill began to slide the belt down carefully watching each metal bulb pop out of his daughter’s perfect pink poophole as he slid it off of her.

“Ooh, Jamie finally gets to do her affirmation?” Buford happily reminded everyone that Wendy had been able to give hers at his store and then they skipped Jamie before she had a turn at it.

“Slut, do you think you deserve to have an affirmation right now?”

Jamie didn’t see affirmations as a ‘treat’. The way her father phrased the question she felt uncomfortable nodding like a dumb bimbo as if it were some delight. She was also still essentially naked in just a chastity belt and orange and black latex and wanted to get out of the parking lot before the crowd came out and saw just how obviously naked she was.

“The affirmations help me stay focused and grounded, Sir. I don’t know what to say to your question though Sir. They reinforce what I am learning.”

“Do you think you deserve my time and attention to keep you focused and grounded, and wipe that dumb grin off your face like you think you did something special by showing your bulbous ass to your class mates?”

When her father put it that way, it was much easier to agree. “Yes Sir, thank you for your guidance, I am sorry for my prideful smirk” Jamie wiped away the goofy grin which only made Chris and Bill laugh at how silly she looked pretending to be serious.

Everyone had a chuckle, including Buford. Buford wasn’t sure why he was laughing other than the fact everyone else was.

Once they recovered, Bill ordered his daughter into the first position.

She crisply adopted the practiced position with legs shoulders width apart, chest out, head straight. Hands placed on ass cheeks pulling them both apart, and knees slightly bent next to her dad’s truck.

“We didn’t get all the latex inside the crack.” Buford looked between Jamie’s ass crack and noticed how the tight fighting liquid latex had become shredded from Jamie’s Helen of Troy cunt stunt. “We could have used some ultra-shine spray to make it really stand out. Did you buy any of that?”

“No we didn’t, Buford” Bill sounded impatient but polite.

“Oh that’s a pity.”

Bill didn’t wait for Buford to ask more questions to start the affirmation. “Why are you naked and the men fully dressed, Ass Face?”

“Because I am a cunt, who didn’t know my place, Sir. I am being taught to amuse my betters with a body I would have denied them before my training, Sir.”

“Good slut, anything else?”

“Yes Sir, I am kept naked because it bothers me, and part of my training is the acceptance of my own misery.”

“You didn’t seem so bothered by it when you danced around in front of every student in school, Sis?” Chris asked.

Jamie squelched a tiny smile as she conceded his point. “If I have to remain naked, I may as well do my best. I know that makes me seem like a big slut and attention whore, Sir and I apologize.”

“You SEEM like a big slut, or you ARE a big slut?” Chris asked not hiding his own smile.

“I am a big slut, Sir. I’ve sucked six cocks today, and promised to suck three more.”

“Is that the three you promised my friends today for your phone, or the three you promised the football players, so you could be paraded around in front of everyone like a whore?”

“Good point, I sucked six cocks and promised to suck six more, Sir.”

“I want my cock sucked.” Buford sounded like a child begging for pancakes for dinner.

“Jamie, would you like to suck this man’s cock?”

“Only if I am able to earn another W for it, Sir?”

“Oh shit, I’ve got to count up how many W’s I owe you for all this tonight.” Chris chuckled. “Sorry, Buford, she only wants to suck your dick if it benefits her.”

“I didn’t mean it to sound that way, Sir.” Jamie told Buford apologetically.

“Can I ask her one?” Buford ignored the apology, because he hadn’t been offended in the first place. The guys nodded and he was free to ask an affirmation question of his own. “If you could be any animal in the world, what would you be?”

Jamie was confused why he would ask that question. Her affirmations had usually been hard, humiliating questions that made her question her motivations and thought processes. She looked to her brother and father for a sign that she should give the question any consideration. The expression on their face was ‘go ahead and answer, he doesn’t know any better.”

“I guess I would be a cat, Sir?” her answer more a question than a statement.

“Why, so you could show the entire world your asshole when you walk around?” Buford laughed so hard his sides started to ache as he pointed at Jamie’s tight pink asshole. The laughter was infectious and soon everyone else including Jamie was laughing.

Meanwhile….

Back at the book store Wendy had come face to face with her office rival and arch-nemesis Vicky.

Vicky was dressed in a slutty outfit with big silver bangle earrings. It wasn’t nearly as slutty as the tube top, micro miniskirt that Wendy had on, but it was obvious Vicky had intentionally dressed provocatively tonight. They were both shocked to see one another and in their own way suspected the other of possibly following them to the location.

“Hello Vicky” Wendy wasn’t required to call her Ma’am at work so she assumed the same applied in her off time.

The boys that were with her stopped to see who she was talking too.

“Hello Wendy, what brings you here?” The look on Vicky’s face read ‘dressed like that, with these young men?”

“I came with my nephew to watch them play Magic the Gathering.” Wendy wasn’t lying as she smiled her answer back at the women she despised most in the world. “What book do you have there?”

The books were, Confessions of a Corporate Slut by Jacqueline Gum and he Ethical Slut: A Practical Guide to Polyamory, Open Relationships & Other Adventures by Dossie Easton and Janet W. Hardy. Vicky seemed embarrassed as Wendy glanced at the titles.

“Those seem like interesting choices,” Wendy smiled innocently. “Oprah’s book of the month club?”

“Oh yes,” Vicky lied as she looked at the boys who were leering at her. She wasn’t as good looking as Wendy, but she was fresh meat and they had already seen every bare inch of Wendy. Vicky was something new to gawk at. She was grateful Wendy had spared her the humiliation of admitting the titles of the books she was carrying. She knew she would not have been so kind and assumed Wendy had some trick up her sleeve.

“Your hair looks a mess, what happened to you?”

“Oh, it’s a bit of a long story.” Wendy dodged the question.

“Would you like to borrow a little make up? I have a blow dryer in my purse actually.” Vicky revealed a mini blow dryer in her voluminous purse.

Wendy was surprised to receive a kind offer. She looked at Sheldon for permission. Wendy wished he was a little more like Bill and able to pick up on her silent signals. “Do you mind if I go freshen up for a few minutes, my sweet nephew?”

Wendy knew that Sheldon didn’t know about her special work related rules and calling him nephew seemed technically within the rules. Sheldon nodded “Don’t take too long. We’ll wait outside.”

Wendy followed Vicky into the women’s bathroom. It was somber and clean and didn’t smell of a sweaty orgy in there. She took it all in and thanked Vicky for the use of the hair dryer and loan of make-up.

“I haven’t been able to figure out your game?” Vicky finally said, implying she knew Wendy was up to something.

“What do you mean?” Wendy said with a look of innocence on her face. She knew enough about how to play mind games with Vicky that acting innocent, especially when she was, could be a good mind fuck. She had no idea why Vicky thought she was playing a game.

“Around the office, you’ve started dressing differently, acting differently. This is some ploy to get a promotion?”

Wendy laughed drunkenly at the idea she was doing all of this to earn herself a promotion. “I am sorry Vicky. I’ve just been trying some new things. It’s really not about moving up the corporate ladder for me anymore.”

“Sure, that’s what someone would say right before they push you off the ladder to climb over you.” Vicky said skeptically.

It amazed Wendy that women could be borrowing each other’s make up and standing right next to each other and say such directly hurtful comments to one another and still remain civil and friendly. Wendy decided to try an experiment now that she was finishing up her makeup.

“Don’t read those books this weekend. I don’t think you’ll find out how to climb the corporate ladder the way I am. It is a waste of time to go to work, dressed like a slut, and find yourself a young handler to groom.”

“Handler?” Vicky took the bait.

“Okay, I think it’s one of those books,” Wendy lied. “A handler is an up and coming young MALE executive. An older woman with cougar potential recruits him and helps advance his career. As a male, he can break through the glass ceiling and then he takes you to the top floor with him. The problem is you have to make him feel you are being submissive, stroke his ego, do what he wants. I would not suggest it, that book is wrong.”

“That is what YOU are doing?”

“Me? No.” Wendy really was completely lying to her rival.

“Steve is your handler. I have seen you with him all the time, coming and going from your office. It’s Steve isn’t it?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about, Vicky.” Wendy pretended she hadn’t just planted the idea of a handler in Vicky’s mind.

“Don’t bullshit me, Wendy Taylor.” Vicky gave her a look of consternation.

“Okay look, I just don’t want you going to Steve and asking him to be your handler. I don’t think you could handle everything he wants. It’s very twisted.” Wendy fought the urge to smile as she delivered her reverse psychology.

“Oh no, I wouldn’t do anything that sordid. We are friends after all. Girls have to look after girls.” Confirming to Wendy that her rival might very well go straight to Steve on Monday morning. She felt a little guilty about setting up her friend to play Steve’s game until she remembered all the times Vicky had stabbed her in the back in the past.

They left the bathroom together, and Wendy smiled at her friend. “Well just so you know, I told Steve I am a sex addict and I can’t control myself. It drove him wild, and he came up with all these therapies to stop me from acting on my desires.”

Vicky looked impressed as Wendy walked with her.

“If he saw me with my Nephews friends, I’d probably tell him I was going to fuck all of them.”

“Oh that’s terrible.” Vicky said as she mentally imagined Wendy doing just that.

Wendy walked out the door with the guild of nerds. Sheldon was holding her hand and he patted her on the ass as they walked away. She turned her head to wink at Vicky and blew her a knowing kiss.

The Family Feud III

Chapter Thirty-Three
“Getting Down on Friday, Partying Partying Yeah”

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 36
Get out of jail cards: 1
WHORE: 1,3,1,0,0
JAMIE: 39
Get out of jail cards: 1
WHORE: 1,3,1,0,0

**Note to reader: This is Jamie’s journal from Friday Night detailing the events of approximately 10pm around the time she meets her date after her ‘cunt stunt’. In order to increase readability, some of the dialogue exchanged was altered to appear in a ‘narrative’ story format.

It has been a few hours since I started wearing the chastity belt my father and brother call the “Pussy Prison”. I am still processing the fact I wore basically nothing else but latex body paint and went out in front of the entire school to perform my swan song as a cheerleader. The world hasn’t ended, in fact I think I’ve been taking this experience with more calm than I should be. I would have thought I’d be hyperventilating or freaking out, but I have been so caught up in the moment I haven’t had time to freak out.

That and this ‘Pussy Prison’ is not just a distraction. I could probably think of a few other names for it like, the ‘Constant arousal belt’, because the constant grating and pinching on my clit hood is causing me to pump thick honey all over it.

I am surprised my father didn’t notice when I took it off in the parking lot to do the affirmations. I’ve been wet before, but now I am leaving slivers of wet goo all over this thing like some kind of nymphomaniac. It is going to be so embarrassing tomorrow around the house if they find out I enjoy the stimulation when they realize my body’s involuntary reaction to the pussy prison is to slather it in girl cum. I’ve been doing a good job pretending I’ve not been getting shocks of clitoral stimulation every time we hit a bump or I stumble, but once they get a good look of the shiny cream I left on the stainless steel belt they are going to know what has been happening.

I could also call it a ‘pain in my ass’, because in contrast to the heightened state of sensitivity on my clit from the piercing pulling my clit hood over the French tickler in the front, the metal plug in the back just plain hurts. It doesn’t just hurt once either, each of those metal bubs is like a fresh new invasion of my anus. Going in and going out is so humiliating. I am constantly afraid I am going to rip a fart and everyone is going to laugh or worse, accidentally shit when it finally pops out.

I wouldn’t blame them for making me stick my nose in it for an hour. The thought of involuntarily opening my bowels when I take it off is killing me. I just know it is bound to happen – wearing the plug makes me feel like I have to shit the entire time.

I told you in my journal that the piercings forcing my nipples to extend and rub against my shirt, and the one holding my clit out of my cunt was keeping me in a constant state of arousal that I couldn’t understand. The chastity belt is doubling it in ways I still can’t fully appreciate or control.

I suppose the idea is that it is supposed to do that. I have visions of some damsel locked away in her father’s tower awaiting her prince with one of these on in the middle ages. She couldn’t have sex out of wedlock, but I guess they wanted her to think devious thoughts so she would be raring to go on her wedding night.

I think it is working.

Speaking of which, I should probably explain where I am right now (besides in a constant state of heightened agony equally matched by heightened arousal and heightened nervousness).

I had just finished my “Cunt Stunt” and I was unsure whether or not I would be suspended, kicked off the squad, or just be ‘another attention whore who flashed her boobs’ at school on Monday morning. That wasn’t good because I think Dad is serious that if I get suspended I really will have to stay in the ‘dog house’ so to speak. I’ll be Rosco’s constant companion for however long the suspension lasts. I have all weekend to beat myself up wondering my fate.

They gave me affirmations and my father watched as I blew Buford to thank him for the kindness of participating in my affirmations and putting up with me in the back of the truck. I would look up every now and then at my father while I had Buford’s cock in my mouth for a sign he felt a little guilty about watching but all I saw was delight. He really seemed to enjoy me being a little cock sucker.

I always thought of him as the protective, jealous type. That is how fathers are supposed to be, or so I was always told. “I am just sitting here cleaning my gun, you go on and have a good night with my daughter.”

Instead, he slapped me on the ass when Buford came in my face, and said “If you can take a dick, you can take a joke”. He and Chris made fun of my hair, the way I talk, the bubble butt I inherited from my mom and just about any other flaw they could think of to prove the point.

They were right, naturally. I think being a cocksucker has taught me that there are much worse things than just being called names and laughed at. This is my first day at it and I’ve already sucked off seven guys and I would be expected to suck off at least three more at the party I was going too to pay back the football players who put their own reputations on the line to haul my ass out on the field.

We drove back home so that I could unload the truck while my father giddily watched his new electronics and our toys get unloaded one at a time. They took their time eating while I sucked my father off and played with Chris and Buford’s dick. They decided they had spent enough time waiting for the game to be over, they loaded me into the truck. Not before informing me of how fortunate I am for having been given more ‘cum than a cumgobbler like you deserves’.

My dad’s mood usually becomes softer after he has blown his load, but he didn’t shoot a lot of cum this time so my theory is that he was still being strict and sadistic. I am still trying to understand how men’s minds work. It is a mystery to me. There was a split second when he was in ecstasy and he held my head and hair and looked into my eyes that he truly seemed grateful. After that moment faded, he went right back to stern disciplinarian.

I still find it hard to believe I can ride in the truck basically naked and no one says anything. I know it’s dark and night time and I’ve got on body paint, but I guess I assumed I’d get caught. I just realized though that if a cop is roaming our neighborhood at night, he is looking for a jelly donut not checking the back of trucks for naked teenage ass popping up, lol.

Tonight I have been informed I will be dating Gerald. I wish it was his older brother Brad, but beggars can’t be choosy. I take that back, I would wish it was Brad if I wasn’t being dropped off still in the orange and black latex with just the chastity belt and handing over my key and clothes to my date.

I wanted to know if my Dad was going to make him a ‘key holder’ or an actual ‘handler’. I usually wait until I am spoken to but I wanted to find out before we picked up Gerald.

“Sir, is Gerald a handler or a key holder tonight?” I tried to keep my face emotionless, because if I smile then it may seem like I want him to be a key holder. If I look too miserable and worried, then it will seem like I don’t  and I think sometimes my dad waits to see what is going to cause me the most distress to make his decision.

“What do you think Chris? Can Gerald handle the authority?”

“This is his third date with her, I don’t see why not.” My brother chuckled. I think I’d be bad at poker, because instead of a stone face, I was probably making a sour one.

Chris went to Gerald’s door to get him. I was very thankful they didn’t send me to the door to ask if he was home. Can you imagine what I would say? “Hello Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins, I am here at 10pm tonight in black and orange body paint to take your son to a high school party, but don’t worry, I have on a chastity belt.”

My brother made room for Gerald in the truck cab. I apologized to Buford. He seemed for the first time tonight to actually be hurt that he wasn’t offered to ride up in front.

“Gerald is much smaller than you, he has a bonier butt so he can fit in the middle, Sir.” I offered a polite explanation which Buford seemed to accept without question. I got the vibe that my Dad still didn’t seem to like Buford even though he was lovably harmless.

“That is true!” all it took to brighten Buford’s face was a few kind words and he had completely forgotten about it and put it past him. I wish I could be as forgiving and hopeful about people. I sometimes think I am getting too jaded. It seems like every guy wants to hurt, fuck or use me in some way.

I suppose they can’t be blamed for the generations of hormonal programming that tells them to dominate women and impregnate them. It is natural selection at work – and young girls with straight teeth and my figure probably send out pheromones or signals or whatever it is that activates the primal set of instructions locked away in every straight guy’s brain.

When we stopped in front of Dave Stravosky’s house I gave Buford a goodbye hug and kiss and hopped off the truck to get my final instructions. They had given Gerald the “talk” about what he could and could not do. I wish I could have heard so I would know for sure what the boundaries are. I have a general idea but I am flying by the seat of my ‘chastity belt’ on some of this and just trying to use my common sense and best judgment.

“Your date wants you to escort him to the party just the way you are. He will be holding your clothes in case he wants you to wear them. How do you feel about that, Ass Face?”

I flashed my cheesy smile in order to mask my regret at getting that nickname and that Gerald now knew what it was. He had been calling me slut, toy, play thing but now he would know I am officially called ‘Ass Face’. How long would it be until his brother Brad finds out?

“If my date wants me to attend the party like this, I will naturally obey in order to amuse him, Sir.” Everybody knew I would say that, but every time I say things like that out loud it sends a shiver up and down my spine as I realize my role in all of this is to just be an amusing and compliant submissive.

“He is your ‘Handler’ for the duration of the party and if he does a good job, then he will be one of your permanent handlers.”

I wasn’t sure if they were waiting for me to say ‘Goody, goody gum drops’. I felt like saying that just to freak them out, but I didn’t want a punishment out on the street in front of Dave’s house. “Gerald is superior to me in every way, he should make a good Supervisor for me, Sir. I am looking forward to his guidance and discipline.”

A part of my stomach just threw up inside my stomach as I said I was looking forward to discipline. It goes without saying that my nipples felt like they were on fire from the electrical impulses connecting them to my brain and my brain back to my over stimulated cunt. Gerald had some very devious, or perhaps a better word is ‘deviant’ ideas behind discipline and I really was not looking forward to his or anyone else’s. They took my cheerful demeanor at face value as I knew they would.

“Gerald can inspect you, but he can’t do it in front of everyone at the party.” Chris looked at Gerald as if he were reminding him of that fact. I had to wonder what schemes and plans they had discussed to put me through at this party while they were in the truck.

I answered ‘Yes Sir’ to my brother and they gave me my final instruction. I was to beg the guys who ran me out on the football field to let me suck their cocks tonight, as promised.

“What time should I be home, Sir?”

“You will be BROUGHT home when your date tires of the party, young lady!” My dad reinforced it wasn’t up to me to get home at a certain time. I suppose being rented out to boys has an advantage in that I don’t have my Dad breathing down my neck to try and make my date get me home by a certain time.

I suppose I am a lot like my mom in that I just want to understand the boundaries and the rules. My question wasn’t prodding him to let me have control over when we get home. It was just innocently wanting to know when we should be home. There are things in my nature that I think are more genetic than they are nurture, because I can’t seem to help but ask questions like that even when I am fairly certain I shouldn’t.

“Should we have him tie her up in Cambier Park like Mom?” Chris asked my dad casually. It shocked me to think of my mom tied up at the park. It sounded like she had it much worse than I did tonight, I really worried for her.

Then again, I’ve got a “Pussy Prison” locked around my waist, driving a bulbed metal rod up my tender asshole. I am naked with the exception of Red and White latex body paint, standing outside in the dark on someone’s lawn surrounded by my dad, my brother, my date/handler and Buford. A few late arrivals to the party noticed me and surprisingly didn’t say a word, at least not a word TO me, maybe about me after they walked past giggling.

“It’s further to walk to Cambier Park than it is to walk to our house. Gerald, have her home by 2am, okay?” my dad answered pragmatically.

“How long do I get to make out with her?” Gerald asked while rubbing his hands together like the Bond villain who just captured an intruding spy.

My Dad looked at Gerald as if he were burning a hole through Gerald’s head with heat ray vision. He didn’t seem to understand the question and Gerald repeating it verbatim hadn’t made it any clearer.

My brother interrupted and said, “I thought that was covered under the exceptions for dating our whores? You get ten minutes on the porch.”

“I thought those rules were for key holders, since I am a handler I should get more authority?”

My Dad and Chris conferred for a few moments while I waited to hear the inevitable. It was worse than I thought. They hadn’t extended it to 15 minutes playing tonsil hockey at the end of the date or even twenty.

“Fine, you can get one blowjob for every date or time you are supervising her, and as long as you don’t stick your dick in her pussy and ass, you can use your best judgment to play with her.” My Dad snorted like a King who had just awarded a tract of land to one of his vassal lords. He made his proclamation as if my mouth love was something he could just grant, which for now he can. It’s weird to be talked about like a commodity or a resource while people stand right in front of you, and by weird I mean ‘humbling’.

“If she has her chastity belt off, only inspect, don’t finger bang.” Chris warned him.

“What’s the difference between inspecting her pussy and just playing with it?” Gerald asked.

“About three minutes.” Chris laughed and patted him on the back jokingly. They were still laughing as Gerald took my hand and walked me to the party. It was just starting to sink into me that I’d be basically naked and a laughing stock as his guest.

“Oh you almost forgot something.” Chris called after me and I ran back bare tits jiggling in the night air to the curb where the truck was parked. “Here is your Arby’s cup. Hold this like you are holding a beer, and if anyone offers you something to drink, tell them you already have one. Gerald will tell you when you can dump it and refill it.”

I wanted so badly to make one of my duck faces of disapproval. That lemony, “Oh man, this is so unfair!” face they hated. I gave him a sweet smile and took the cup with a crisp “Yes Sir, thank you, it’s very thoughtful you would give me an excuse not to accept beer or liquor at a party.”

I hadn’t been to very many parties. I wouldn’t say I have anything against alcohol or smoking dope, I just hadn’t gotten around to it yet. Even though I had the social connections to go to these shindigs, I have been filling my time with cheerleading, homework and the extra-curricular, goody two shoe stuff I thought I should be doing with my time.

The last party I had attended was the one where I wrecked my mom’s car, and our lives got turned upside down. I had tasted a little beer on my hands when her and I bartended in thongs and I didn’t like it anyway. I am not sure what the appeal of beer is. It seems to make people act like children and lower their inhibitions and judgment.

On second thought, I am wearing less than I wore at the last party where I was the bartending center of attention and scorn by all my girlfriends. I could probably use a stiff one.

A stiff  DRINK!

This damned chastity belt is driving me so wild, that I think every little double entendre is a dirty one. I meant a stiff drink, not a stiff cock, honestly journal I wouldn’t lie to you – hardly ever.

==

My father was in a hurry to get home. He had bought all this computer stuff and all that bondage gear at the store and he was excited to play with his new toys. I could tell by that look on his face. It was the one when he was more excited to put together my Christmas present, than I was when I saw it when I was a little girl.

I wasn’t a little girl anymore, not after today.

He and Chris wasted no time driving away and leaving us two ‘love birds’ as they called us on our ‘date’.

“Wow, you smell great.” Gerald said to me as we stood in the driveway surrounded by cars of other students and the raucous party spilling out on the lawn from Dave’s house.

“Funny Sir!” I smiled at his joke, “It is the cup you are smelling.” I could be more casual with Gerald. He liked it when I was playful (most of the time).

“No, I don’t mean the stinky you took in the cup. I meant your perfume, it smells great.” He sniffed my hair.

I don’t know any women who put perfume in their hair, but I stifled my desire to be sarcastic to my date and answered, “You might be smelling shampoo Sir, but thank you for the compliment.” Like a good girl should answer her date. I assumed I probably smelled more like pussy, sweat and fear, but it was good to know I didn’t reek.

Dave’s house is like all the others in the neighborhood I live in. It is like they tell you the American Dream is supposed to look like - with the white picket fence, white wooden siding, two stories, big porch, spacious yard. Lot after lot, street after street of nearly identical little mansions, all filled with people with their own story.

I was learning that just because I think my own story is unique and has taken a deeply perverted turn, other people have their own twisted story. Tonight Hope had a meltdown in front of all the other girls and then her Dad basically rutted around like a pig for Cathy’s approval and attention.

I’ve known Hope since I was a little girl, and I would never have expected her to get involved in anything like this or just freak out and leave the dressing room without any bottoms. At least I’ve got black and orange latex clinging to my skin. She was completely bare ass when she stormed out of the room.

Her Dad used to give us ‘double whip cream banana splits with cherries on top’ when we were little at his restaurant. He’d let us climb around in the storage room and gorge ourselves on potato chips and maraschino cherries. He always seemed like such a nice, normal guy.

I suppose people would have probably thought I was nice, and normal too, so I’ve no room to judge.

I expected when we opened the door to the party that everyone would laugh at me in my latex skin-tight body paint. It didn’t leave much to the imagination and the only thing I had on was a chastity belt.

I also expected them to take one look at my date, realize he doesn’t even go to Cherry Lawn and tell him to come back when he is older, if they didn’t throw him out on his ass.

Instead, music was blasting, people were laughing while they ‘cavorted and carried on’ as Mrs. Waxerman would have described it.

Black and yellow, black and yellow

Black and yellow, black and yellow

Yeah ah ha, you know what it is

everything I do, I do it big

Yeah ah ha, screaming thats nothin

when I pulled out of the lot, thats stuntin

reppin my town when you see me you know everything

Black and yellow, black and yellow

Black and yellow, black and yellow

I put it down from my whip to my diamonds

Dancing to some booty music that I didn’t recognize along with all the other party goers was my friend Hope.

What stood her apart from the rest was that she was now completely naked and very drunk. I am sure there were some people who were already drunk, and a lot of people weren’t wearing much but no one else was naked.

I came a close second obviously and I was already getting some stares from people who could see the outline of my nipples and boobs as we walked in the door.

“You nervous, Ass Face?” it was the first time Gerald called me that. I think my reaction was the same one people have when they hear me ask permission to ‘shit’ or call my pussy a ‘cunt’. It just sounded so wrong coming from him. Chris calls him an “Ewok”, after seeing how cute and cuddly the little space teddy bears are, I can’t think of a better description for my date. That is unless you know how devious he really can be at times.

“Yes Sir, but I have an obligation to you as my date to stay like this and accept the stares and dirty looks because it amuses you.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty funny seeing you painted up naked. You look like you can’t wait for this party to be over and we just got here.”

I can only assume, even with my training as a cheerleader, there are some things I can’t as easily mask and I was already feeling every eyeball in the place turning to stare at me and look me over. It was different on the football field when they were way back in the stands. These people were far closer and up in my space and in the house under the lights I felt basically naked.

“I did the crime, so I do the time.” I whispered to myself. He asked me to explain and I told him, “I was a bad girl, and I’ve agreed to be rented out on dates, and do my time. What should we do first Sir?”

“You seem preoccupied,” he noticed I wasn’t giving him 100% of my attention rather easily. He can be needy that way. “Looking for the football jocks so you can beg to suck their cocks?” He taunted me.

“No, I was watching my friend Hope dance and wondering what was going on, Sir.” There was enough laughing and dancing around the house I suppose it is possible he hadn’t seen my friend dancing naked in the living room from the foyer of the house. He is also about a head shorter than everyone else in the room, so maybe he just couldn’t see until we got closer.

He guided me closer to her while he looked her up and down. She was tall, slender and attractive with a completely hairless pussy and I noticed the bruise and whip marks around her ass cheeks and boobs. She wasn’t acting submissive, instead she was toying with guys, pulling them close and pushing them away while she danced like the center of attention.

When Hope saw me she honked my tits and laughed, “Little Miss Perfect is getting bitch trained?”

“I guess you could say that, Ma’am.” I answered while she tried to dance with me. I looked at my date for some sign whether I should go along with it or not.

“Not me, not any more. I won’t be on Cathy’s leash, or my father’s, or my mom’s! I am out, I am done!” She wiped her mouth as she took a sip from a plastic cup. I was still holding mine and hoping I wouldn’t spill it. “Don’t call me Ma’am, I was just like you until an hour ago.”

“So why are you dancing naked?” I asked while people watched us press our flesh together and dance around. I saw a few cell phone cameras come out, but it wasn’t the worst thing I had been photographed doing.

“Because I can! Ha-hah, I can do anything I want, and I chose to do this. It’s very freeing!!” she whirled around with me in her arms. We weren’t the only ones dancing, but we were definitely the only girls dancing like that.

“You’ve been drinking, maybe you should go lay down, and then in the morning think about this with a straight head.”

“Oh, Miss Priss wants to tell me what to do? The belle of the ball, has some advice for moi?” she pushed me hard in the chest.

“No, I am not trying to tell you how to live. I am just suggesting as a friend…” she slapped my face hard. I might have even winced if it wasn’t for the fact I had been enduring slaps twice that hard all week.

“You are no friend! You like being a slut and a slave, you want me to be just like you! Now that Princess Jamie Taylor is doing it, everyone else wants to be one too.”

I didn’t know where this was coming from. “Please, just settle down, you aren’t yourself” I rubbed my face even though it wasn’t the hardest stinger it still smarted.

“Fuck you, cunt. I am not taking orders from anyone!” she was about to swing on me again when Dave Stravosky grabbed her by the arms and stopped her.

“Whoa Nellie, don’t break my parents dining room table.” As big as he was he had no problem restraining Hope.

“Fuck you, you faggot.” She kicked and shook her head to try to head butt him while he held him in front of her.

Dave got really angry and carted her off. She was screaming how Dave must be gay because he didn’t like sex with girls.

I was surprised that once he removed her from the living room, partying resumed as if the entire spectacle had never happened. Guys were still ogling me and girls were giving me the stink eye, but it was as if the incident never happened.

Gerald asked “So now that you are doing it, other girls want in on this too, huh?” with a smile.

“I don’t know what that was about, Sir.” I admitted I had no idea what she meant or why anyone would want to be treated this way. He escorted me around the party and made small talk while people stared at my tits.

A few people congratulated me on my skit during half-time and asked me if I was suspended. I told them the truth that I didn’t know. If doing the skit was intended to end my popularity at school with a bang, so far I hadn’t met anyone who didn’t know my name at the party so maybe it was having the opposite effect.

I was getting pinched on the butt and people were ‘accidentally’ bumping into me, but I think that may have happened whether I was painted or not. I did feel like I had a big target painted on me that read ‘please come and molest me’ but I think even without my boobs jiggling around guys would do that.

Girls on the other hand, even the ones who I thought were my friends would look at me with disgust. I tried to give them an innocent shrug so they could understand I wasn’t doing this because I wanted too. They weren’t picking up on my body language or maybe they just didn’t want too. I was glad I couldn’t hear what they were saying about me behind my back.

I almost took a drink out of my dirty Arby’s cup by accident with all the people laughing and drinking at the party it’s hard not to imitate what I see.

“So how do you want to offer your lips to your football heroes?” it was obvious to me that Gerald felt that I had it in his head that acting jealous and insecure was attractive.

“Why do you think I can’t wait to suck off Dave and his friends, Sir?” I asked him. He was sitting on the couch and I was standing next to him bending down so he could hear me.

“Your brother told me since you started doing blowjobs you’ve been cock crazy”.

That was a strange thing for Chris to say. I haven’t even sucked him off yet. I suppose he saw how hard I tried to get Dad off a second time tonight and appreciated the effort I put into it.

“How many cocks have you sucked today?”

“How many times have I given a blowjob, or how many people, Sir?” I asked to clarify. I could be anal retentive about details for no reason some times. I guess that is another of my shortcomings I’ll have to mention next affirmation when it comes up.

“There is a difference?” he asked in disbelief.

“Well, I gave eight blowjobs, but two of them were to my father, Sir, so that is seven people.”

“Wow, very accurate count, do you charge by the dick or the minute?” he laughed.

“I don’t keep any of the money my brother charges, you know that Sir.” I told him deflecting his sarcastic barb and trying to appear demure and humble.

He still seemed to suspect that maybe I was in league with my brother and I was secretly keeping half of the money that he paid. I tried to explain that if I was doing this for money I would keep 100% of it, but he just shushed me and tried to tell me the ‘rules of the pimp game’ as if he had any first-hand experience with outside of an HBO Documentary on the subject.

“I’ll finally suck your cock tonight, Sir.” He just looked at me as if I shouldn’t be so sure of myself so I added “if you want me to that is.” He had been after me to let him go further than that on our first date. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to allow so I had told him no. I guess I can be a ‘Pollyanna Purebread’ type, it’s hard-wired into how I was brought up. It was all I could do not to cover my breasts and cup them with my hands.

“Yeah, I am just debating if I want you to do it before you do them, or after.” He mused pointing in the direction of some football players in the kitchen.

Before I could answer, Hope came running down the stairs of Dave’s house (completely naked of course) yelling “Free Lays!!”

“I suppose she isn’t giving out potato chips,” I’ll give Gerald credit for one thing, he is as quick witted as my brother when it comes to his jokes.

“No, I don’t suppose she is Sir” I could only watch helplessly as my friend self-destructed in a much bigger way than I had. Her make-up was smeared, her hair was fucked up and she was leading two guys upstairs telling them “Show me how you put it in me!”

The other kids at the party mostly jeered and laughed at the spectacle, but a drunk slut wasn’t enough to stop the music or the party. This was just another Friday night of drinking, sex and partying for many of them. I am not saying no one was shocked, but not as shocked as I would have thought they would be over a naked girl acting the fool at a party.

There was more to her cries to be fucked hard than just a desire for sex. I thought perhaps she was trying to make Dave jealous but if she was trying, it wasn’t’ working. He was laughing in the kitchen and playing a drinking game with ping pong balls with his friends.

I assumed it also had to do with the fact that whatever her living situation at home, she was rebelling and that has been universal to teenagers long before my generation was ever a twinkle in someone’s eye. If she really was in training like me, for whatever reason she didn’t seem to be now.

I began to realize that Cathy Griffin was missing from the party. I wasn’t’ sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. If she was there I would know what she is up to her, but when she is not around, that means she is probably up to something.

“The three guys I am supposed to blow are in the kitchen, if you want me to go beg them to let me suck their dicks I will, or if you’d rather I give you one first I will, Sir.” I could tell he already knew that but I added “I have to ask them before I go home, or else I’ll get punished though.”

“Why would I care if a snot like you gets punished?” he laughed callously.

“That’s true, you’d probably enjoy me getting punished.” I thought for the dozenth time about the punishment card I had drawn that was going to send me to Mrs. Waxerman’s house to mow her lawn and whether or not I would ask for an enema once I get there. I wish they would have just punished me right away instead of making me wait and think about it all night. “If you want to remain my handler Sir, I guess I would tell them you didn’t give me a chance to follow their orders, and they may rethink that.”

“You always get your way, don’t you?” he sounded angry with me. I couldn’t believe he thought ‘my way’ was insisting on sucking off three guys. I guess in retrospect that is exactly what I was doing, but it was because I had promised in order to do the ‘cunt stunt’. No good deed goes unpunished, I suppose.

He didn’t order me to go beg to suck their cocks. That would have been easier to justify in my mind. My mean, sadistic date was telling me to do it and what choice did innocent Jamie have but to comply?

Instead, he was begrudgingly letting me go beg to suck their cocks, which made me feel like the girl at the party with her tits out whose pussy is on fire from the French tickler she wears everywhere rubbing against her raw, wet slit who ‘gets her way’ and is allowed to beg for dick.

If Gerald wants to be a handler he wasn’t getting off to a good start in my opinion. Dad and Chris have a way of inspiring me through affirmations and the way they do things to keep at it. If this makes sense, Gerald was making me feel like shit but not in a good way.

He could have just ordered me, told me why I had to keep my promises and that probably would have perked me right up to keep on plugging along like the Energizer bunny. Instead I walked into the kitchen with shoulders and head down, trying to work myself up into the positive energy that I’d need to do this without being ordered to do it. I thought back on the fact my father had ordered me to do it even though Gerald had just made me feel like a greedy dick pig, I could rationalize in my mind I was doing this completely degrading thing because I am under orders. That was much better, I could put on a happy face.

“Hi Sir, I wanted to thank you for carrying me out on the field during half time!” I told Dave with a big goofy grin on my face.

“Yeah, the coach reamed me a new one over it.” Callously dismissing my good natured attempt to break the ice.

I wanted to make a joke that I really DID know how he felt considering I was being reamed by my butt plug right now. I decided better of it and stuck with “I am so sorry about that, Sir. I am ready to keep my end of the deal though?”

“Okay, and that is?” as the host of the party and a naturally big guy with a loud voice, everyone in the kitchen had their attention on us. There were about a dozen or so students, some of whom I recognized and some I didn’t either playing the drinking game or just hanging out and they were now listening to us like E.F. Hutton just spoke.

“You told me I had to suck your cock for helping take me on stage. I am here to make good on the bargain, Sir.” I explained with surprise he seemed to have forgotten, even though it was his idea in the first place.

“Oh yeah” He smirked as if it had slipped his mind. I want to believe he was toying with me and that I really wasn’t that inconsequential that he hadn’t remembered. “When you say it like I insisted on it though, that turns me off.” He looked at my tits quivering and bouncing up and down and not in my eyes as he added “If you really want to suck our cocks, you’ll have to beg.”

Damn him, I suck at begging. Well, suck is an interesting choice of words, I guess I suck while begging too! J

Dave, Noah and Thad were all grins from ear to ear as I am sure I turned beet red. There were some grins from the other guys in the kitchen, but the girls were staring ice daggers into my heart. In a strange way, the reaction of the girls gave me courage to continue. It was as if rejecting what I SHOULD be doing was liberating.

I dropped to my knees on the cold tile floor and begged with my hands in front of me like puppy paws as I had done for Chris many times this past week. “Please Sir, may I suck your dicks for carrying me out during the half time show so I could prance around and do my dance, I am begging, I really want too.” I was hoping I looked convincing and not completely desperate. I parted my lips slightly and gave them a seductive lick.

“With sugar on top?” Dave asked sadistically. If he wasn’t a jock, I would say he can be just as nerdy as some of Chris’s friends.

“Yes Sir, pretty please with sugar on top.” I nodded in agreement whole heartedly.

“You fellas convinced?” he asked his friends.

I couldn’t believe they could have an almost naked girl on the floor begging to suck their dicks and toy with me like that. They nodded they weren’t convinced and I stifled the urge to pout or sigh, but I would be lying if I managed to keep a completely happy face when they laughed at my pathetic groveling.

“How bad do you want it?” Dave taunted me with his question.

“So bad, I’d suck every cock in the room to get to yours, Sir?” I couldn’t believe I had just offered to suck that many dicks. There had to be at least twenty or thirty guys inside the party and more on the way.

“Could that be just because you are a slut who enjoys sucking dick?” Dave asked. His questions were reminding me of Chris’s affirmations and in their own way they were comforting me through this ordeal.

I don’t know how to explain what I was feeling. It is possible it was just the constant clitoral stimulation of the piercing and the chastity belt, along with the cool air down on the floor as it caressed my body and the adrenalin from being judged by my peers. Whatever it was, I was getting turned on by Dave’s take charge attitude, powerful sounding voice, and the way he put the questions to me.

Some guys in high school look like full grown men, and Dave was one of those guys. That is in stark contrast to a young bean pole like Gerald who is clever but not particularly commanding  or confident. He lacks that swagger that Dave has. I know Dave is a self-centered jerk, but something about him had me hypnotized.

I must have tuned out his question because he asked me a second time. “Why haven’t you put on a shirt? Games over cheerleader. That is if you are even still a cheerleader after your little stunt tonight.”

“I um, got dropped off this way.” I stumbled with my answer. I hate it when my voice goes up at the end of my sentences as if I am asking a question. I have been trying to stop that and usually getting punished by Chris has done the trick, but when I am nervous or confused it comes right back out again. Dave looked at me skeptically so I added “My date prefers me like this, Sir.”

“You are dating someone?” he asked as if he couldn’t believe a slut like me would have a steady boyfriend.
“I can’t believe a slut like you has a steady boyfriend” he said to confirm that is what he meant.

“He isn’t a steady boyfriend Sir, just someone my brother wanted me to go out with.” I indicated Gerald who was standing innocuously in the background like a puppet master watching this charade.

“This pipsqueak?” Dave looked at him with disgust as if noticing a foul odor. “Does he have a big dick or something?”

“I don’t know yet, Sir. I’ll find out tonight, I guess.” I answered honestly with a hint of ironic humor to ease the tension.

“You don’t mind if your date sucks our big dicks do you, little man?” Dave asked him with the same derisive tone he had used with me.

“Not at all, I’d love to watch.” Gerald’s squeaky voice sounded so out of place around the big footballers and it came out kind of weasally.

“What are you, a gay bait?” Dave challenged him.

“What is a gay bait?” Gerald’s answer came across as he was trying to be witty, which would have prompted a similar reply from my brother. Dave just knotted his brow and shook his head in disgust. He started to un buckle his pants right in the kitchen in front of everyone.

This was the moment I was dreading when the popular kids from school watch me gobble dick. I closed my eyes and steeled myself for what would happen next then I heard him laugh.

“You look scared.” He put his finger under my chin and lifted my head. I looked directly into his face as I opened my eyes as he added  “It isn’t that easy. I am not about to whip out my pecker right here in front of everyone. That would be total faggotry.”

“Do you want to take me upstairs, Sir?” I tried being helpful.

“You haven’t earned the right to suck this dick yet, what are you going to do to liven up the party, and then maybe I’ll let you taste this man nectar.” He was so cock-sure of himself that I think the term ‘cock-sure’ was perfectly apt for a situation in which you knew a girl was desperate to suck your dick and get it over with.

“I could dance on your kitchen table, Sir.” I smiled

“You guys want to see that?” he asked to mixed reactions. I was not sure if I should be proud so many guys seemed to want me to dance, but there were enough jeers and negative reactions that It drowned them out. That was mostly coming from other girls who weren’t happy I was being an attention whore and monopolizing the party. I don’t blame them, if I wasn’t knee-deep in this punishment I would never have had any empathy for a girl down on her knees making a fool of herself at a party.

“Seems like everyone already saw you dance.” Dave decided dismissively. “What is this thing you got on your waist, anyway?”

“It is a chastity belt, Sir.” I answered without hesitation.

“What the fuck is it for?”

Even with my own limited knowledge of history and culture, I knew what one was. I was shocked he had never heard of it. “It’s like the Knights used to use when they went on a crusade, they’d put their wives in it until they got home to keep them from getting with someone while they were gone.”

His brow furrowed as he tried to process what I told him. “Why do you wear it, Your old man afraid you’ll fuck everyone you see?”

He was right that my dad had chosen it for me, but not exactly that reason. I was desperately thinking of ways to answer his questions truthfully that he would understand. I was also violating the ‘affirmation’ principles I had learned by trying to generalize and speak in euphemisms. I wasn’t technically in an affirmation and I think instincts kicked in around so many of the peers from my school who used to think I was such a goody-two shoes.

“Yes Sir” I answered even though that wasn’t the real reason. He seemed to want to validate his own theory which seemed easier than explaining the complicated world I was now living in to him and everyone at the party who wandered into the kitchen.

I should say that music was playing loud enough that not everyone was staring at me and listening to me intently but at least a dozen people were at any given time.

“You didn’t have it on today at school, when we saw you in the bathroom.” Dave asked skeptically. He had left out the part where he and his friends peed all over me, and I wasn’t about to bring that up.

“Yes Sir, my dad just bought it for me tonight.”

“How do you pee with that thing on?” his friend Thad asked mockingly.

I wordlessly pointed to the small air holes that seemed to act like a cheese grater on my exposed pussy lips. I could feel everyone looking at me kneeling on the floor like a heavy weight on my shoulders. I could see how Hope had cracked if she were under the same kind of arrangement I was. The adrenalin rush from humiliation only lasts so long before you are left with this dreadful feeling of remorse and embarrassment and right now I was feeling about as much of it as possible.

“Unless she has to poop, then I get to unlock it!” Gerald offered gleefully.

Just when I thought I couldn’t feel any lower, he had to go and say something like that. Everyone started to laugh, in part because I think I almost cried when he said it. I just looked at the floor while the popular kids giggled at my discomfort.

When the laughter died down “It’s locked on?” Dave still wasn’t getting it.

“Yes, but I can unlock it!” Gerald answered cheerfully

“I don’t get it. If the Chastity belt is to keep you from fucking her, then why give you the key?” I could almost hear the grinding gears inside Dave’s head as he tried to make sense of that one.

“I can only take it off for certain things.” Gerald answered.

“Like?”

“Well, so she can go poop, or inspections.” Gerald answered as if that should have been obvious.

“An inspection?” Dave was still confused.

“Yes, I guess after she poops, to make sure she wiped.” Gerald answered. He was less confident this time, he hadn’t given me an inspection but apparently he and Chris had talked about it quite a bit.

“So give her an inspection!” Dave had gone from sounding like he thought Gerald was a little twerp to sounding like his best friend.

“Can’t.” Gerald explained “Her dad says I can’t inspect her in front of others.” My dad had been very explicit about that. I assume because he didn’t want me totally naked at the party, and he felt topless with latex was bad enough.

“Did he say anything about me not inspecting her in front of others?” Dave’s friendly tone had become sinister.

“Well, yes, only a key holder is supposed to do it.” Gerald was intimidated and his body language showed it.

Dave could have easily snatched the key right out of his hand, and ground him to dust in the kitchen. Instead, he looked curiously at him and then back at me. “You let this little twerp hold the key that unlocks your belt?”

My throat was raspy, I was stifling a tear when I said very sincerely “Well, I don’t have any pockets, Sir”

It must have been the tension breaker that was needed because Dave found that hilarious and when he laughed everyone else did too. I even smiled too at the reaction my unintentional joke received. My mom and I had been doing ‘gallows humor’ about our situation all week, I suppose in retrospect it was kind of funny.

“No, I don’t suppose you do have any pockets.” Dave seemed to be starting to process my situation but he still didn’t grasp how little control I really had over it. “Tell him to inspect you, I want to see this.”

“I can’t tell him what to do, Sir” I said choosing my words very gingerly. “I can only politely ask him.”

“Okay, whatever. Ask him then.” Dave was getting impatient and didn’t see the subtle distinction between telling and asking and I wasn’t about to offer up a lecture.

“Please Sir, would you mind demonstrating an inspection for Dave and his friends?” I turned to Gerald and asked as submissive and demurely as I could. I fluttered my eyes and saw him swoon just a little. It was good to feel a little power over small things, when you have no power over the big ones. Gerald’s hormones were giving me just a tiny bit of control over him and I wasn’t going to complain.

“Your Dad said no one else can watch, Sorry” Gerald was being a stickler. I thought I had convinced him the way he stared dreamily into my eyes, but he managed to resist my charms.

“Well, I guess you don’t want to suck our dicks bad enough then, look I am bored of this. I think I’ll go upstairs and check on Hope.” Dave started to walk off.

“Wait Sir, Please? I really need to suck your dick tonight or I’ll be punished.”

“Punished how?” he turned on his heel to ask.

“I don’t know Sir, but I made a deal with you and I am a good little cocksucker, please let me pleasure your cock.” I blurted out without thinking.

“Punished by him?” Dave glanced at Gerald in disbelief.

“No Sir, my father and uh, brother.”

He winced when I mentioned my brother but didn’t address it. Instead he asked “So why do you do what that little faggot says?” and motioned to Gerald “If he can’t do nothing to you?”.  Chris and my dad have asked me similar questions but I assume they already know the answer and just want to hear it from me. Dave was simply confused and it was frustrating me. I didn’t want to tell all the sordid details to everyone in the room, and I felt like it would only confuse him more if I did. I guess I could justify not being explicit in my responses because Dad did say I need to consider my audience, and Dave just isn’t the brightest bulb in the box.

“I do whatever he says within reason, because I was told to, Sir.”

“Bullshit, you do whatever HE says?” He pointed at Gerald as if he still couldn’t believe it, even though I said it.

Affirmation training has also taught me to be patient and answer the same question different ways. I didn’t sigh or anything, Chris would be very proud when I said “Yes Sir, he is my date.”

“So what if I wanted you to be MY date?”

“I already have a date for tonight, but you could talk to my brother about it, Sir.” At the time I was thinking Dave might be an interesting date if he could understand the rules. Okay, I guess it’s time to admit I was falling for the whole big dumb bad-boy routine. This is after all my journal and no one else but me is reading it after all. I hate to be one of those shallow girls who likes bad boys, but I can see why they do. It is kind of primal, an urging in my nature.

“Talk to Chris Taylor? The only thing I’d talk to that fat-ass about is a jelly donut.” He and his buddies laughed the loudest at that one.

I wanted so much to stand up, put my hands on my hips and demand he take that back. It was one thing to put me down but I had a growing respect for my brother. I hadn’t stood up for him in the past when my friends made fun of him and I was beating myself up daily over that. Then again, I was not in much of a position to stand up to anyone given I wasn’t even wearing a shirt and I was still kneeling.

To my shame, I said nothing at all to defend my brother. I just looked at the tile.

“Tell you what, take off the little harness thingy, and come find me. I am getting bored of this and I want to check on some things. If you come to me correct, I may just let you suck our cocks.” He left to go upstairs and I swore I could even hear Thad expressing disbelief he turned me down. I can’t say that didn’t at least give me a strange burst of awkward pride again -At least I wasn’t disgusting to him.

When Dave and his entourage of friends left the kitchen it was like a vacuum had sucked all the interest out of watching me. People began to mill around and it seemed like the music was louder than it had been. That may just have been the fact that Dave is such an obnoxious loud mouth the volume seems lower by comparison.

“Sir, may I stop kneeling?” I begged Gerald.

“Sure, I guess so.” He sounded dejected.

“What is the matter, Sir?”

Gerald gave me a short litany on the troubles and tribulations of being a geek, and how he didn’t get respect from other kids or his parents. It was hard to empathize about lack of respect considering all I had on were heels, a cat collar and a chastity belt. I tried anyway and stifled the desire to compare his situation to my own out loud. If I get kicked out of school next week, I may spend my days out in the yard until mom comes home. I know it’s selfish and self-centered to not really pay attention, but he has a choice, he could probably change from being a geek.

Well that isn’t entirely true. He can’t suddenly just be Dave Stravosky and say “Come at me, Bro” like some kind of square jawed jock. He is who he is, but I can’t help but think about that thing Mom and Dad always talk about when they say things like “Wendy is responsible for the things Wendy does.” It seemed like Gerald wasn’t taking responsibility for himself. He always blamed everyone else for reacting to what he does.

I kept the observation to myself as he finished his whining by saying I should have stood up for Chris and him when they made fun of him.

“Sir, I am your date. I am supposed to be polite and demure. Believe me, I wanted to say some things to him, but if I were to bitch at Dave for what he said you may tell my Dad to punish me.”

“Have I ever told your Dad to punish you after one of our dates?”

“Well we haven’t had very many, but as I recall, you did tell Chris I wouldn’t let you inspect me, and that I was rude and he did punish me.”

“Oh ouch, okay you got me on that one. That was petty of me. You weren’t rude, I was just mad you wouldn’t let me get to first base. How bad did you get it?” He asked as we made our way around the party.

I wasn’t sure if he even knew what first base was, but it wasn’t fingering my pussy which is what he wanted to do that night. “After he had me apologize to you for being a first class ass and promise to never do it again and I licked your feet, he had me draw a punishment card.” I noticed he was smiling and his dick was getting hard through his corduroys. Who wears corduroys these days?

“You like hearing about how I got punished, Sir?” I asked him skeptically.

“Why wouldn’t I? A lot of people would pay money to read a story about your life I bet.”

“Oh C’mon,  why would anyone spend their time reading about how a cheerleader fell from grace and had to get disciplined by her dad and brother and go on dates with guys she barely knows?”

He seemed taken aback by my admission I barely knew him.

“I mean, I am getting to know you better Sir.” I apologized.

He acted like it hadn’t bothered him “Tell me how you got punished, before my erection dies down.”

He was blunt I’ll give him that. “Well it’s kind of gross.” Usually when someone warns you that the story is kind of gross the appropriate reaction is not to nod your head vigorously in encouragement but that is what he did.  “My brother tied dental floss around my nipples very tightly, then he ran string through my piercing in my clit until he had enough strings to make a sort of guitar. Then he had me stick out my tongue and used some old chopsticks we had from take out dinner to splint my tongue so I couldn’t put it back in my mouth. It felt sort of the way the piercing in my cunt feels, always outstretched.” I stopped telling the story for a moment.

“Then what?” He asked excitedly. I don’t know what turned him on by my punishment, I would think anyone who isn’t totally perverted would be shocked and horrified not aroused. Then again who knows, maybe someone is reading my journal without my knowledge and playing with themselves right now to my pain? ;-X

“Well, he put a kazoo in my butthole, Sir.” I said plainly.

“What?”

He had heard me, but I knew I had to repeat it.

“He wanted me to be a marching band, so for 15 minutes I marched in place, playing my strings, trying to blow my horn out of my asshole, and clapping two ‘cymbals’  while he videotaped it. ‘Siss Siss boom, Siss Siss Boom-de-ay!’ I pantomimed the exaggerated high step I had to do while I stuck out my tongue in order to illustrate how silly I must have sounded spitting as I tried to sing the tune to go along with the rest of the music I was trying to play. “When it was done, I was given an affirmation and sent to bed like that.”

“Wow, that is fucking hilarious!”

I smirked, I guess in retrospect the mental image of that is probably pretty funny.

“What are we going to do about Dave, Sir?” I changed the subject since we were both smiling and talking casually.

“Nothing I guess, I mean I am not supposed to take off your chastity belt. I guess you better learn to do the Washington Post.” He giggled.

“The newspaper, Sir?” I was confused.

“No, John Phillips Sousa, you know…isn’t that the song he had you doing with your mouth?”

“I actually don’t know sir, I am not in band.” I admitted.

“Tell you what” he offered and I beamed with interest. “I did you wrong by getting you punished earlier in the week. If you want, I will unlock your chastity belt just this once and not tell your brother or dad.”

“Really?” I suddenly felt so naughty as if I were a rule breaker for even considering this offer. If I had stopped to think about it I would have realized I was HAPPY that someone was willing to unlock my chastity belt, so that I could get naked in front of a bunch of some guys so they would allow me to suck their cocks.

Hindsight is always 20/20, but at the time all I was thinking was this was a way to make everyone happy. I could satisfy what Dave wanted and my Dad and Chris (and avoid punishment).

I thanked him and we sought out Dave and his friends. It wasn’t too hard to find him, wherever he is there seems to be the center of the party anyway. He was out on the pool deck standing with several others. I could over hear him explaining why he gets to throw this party in the first place.

“I caught my Dad and his new wife in the hot tub, and he is going through a messy divorce, so he kinda agreed to let me throw it.”

“Didn’t you throw a party last weekend though?”

“Yeah, I pretty much catch them every week.” He answered without missing a beat. I wasn’t sure if he was joking but everyone was laughing when we walked up.

“Okay, it’s Mrs Tits and gayboy the super duo.” David was a little meaner than the last time we had talked to him. I could see he was pounding beers. I don’t really know what makes people ‘mean drunks’ but I’ve heard alcohol reduces your inhibitions and makes you act a little more like how you really are when you let down your guard.

I have to wonder if I’d be a goody two-shoes or a wanton whore, if I were drunk. I was still carrying my Arby’s cup though and hadn’t touched a beer since I got there.

“You still want her to unlock the chastity belt?”

“Sure gay boy, unlock it ferr me.” He slurred his words slightly, but he didn’t seem very drunk.

Gerald to his credit, after  what had probably been a lifetime of dealing with bullies like Dave took it in stride and came behind me with the key and began unlocking it without saying a word back.

“Whoa!! You don’t have paint underneath it?” He asked as my pale naked form emerged in the moonlight of his father’s pool deck and the chastity belt slid down. I helped Gerald remove it, taking extra care to absorb the shock from each of those metal balls on the end of the metal plug in my ass.

I couldn’t answer him because I was writhing in ecstacy. The combination of the release of pressure on my asshole and the tension on my clit as well as the sudden realization I was now for all intents and purposes totally nude had sent a shiver of orgasmic pleasure in sudden shock waves throughout my body and it clouded my mind. I couldn’t help myself, I was fingering my pussy without thinking.

When I finally caught my breath I was able to say “No Sir, the latex was just to cover me up for my stunt tonight.”

Can you imagine a fourteen year old teeny bopper girl eating her favorite chocolate with Justin Beiber on a Unicorn inside of a rainbow while she won on American Idol? That is about the level of joy I was feeling and I didn’t know why. I mean I know, my pussy was releasing pain and pleasure signals to my brain the same as heroin, which I am told is very addictive for that reason.

“May I PLEASE suck your cocks, right here?” I fell to my knees and I really meant it this time. I wanted a dick in me, and I wasn’t too particular if it was just my mouth. I was feeling mega-lust, and I was caught up in the moment.

“Oh no sweet-cheeks, that’s not how it works. That was just the first test.” Dave waggled his finger at me as if talking to a baby. “You REALLY want to suck our cocks?”

“Yes Sir, I do!!!” I wanted him to fuck me, to rape me, to do everything to me, but I at least managed to keep that thought to myself. I didn’t care what anyone else was thinking, I was horny!

“Then here take this sharpie and write on your whore ass, “Sniff My butthole”.

I didn’t think to question what he might have a sharpie for. The tattoo covered most of my ass cheeks but there was still room to write something. I didn’t say anything about those thoughts that were bouncing around in my head about this new requirement.

Instead, I just said “I can’t Sir, if my Dad finds out I took off my chastity belt I’ll really get punished. Please, Something else?” my voice was different, my pulse was racing and I could sense that the urgency in my voice was what begging was supposed to sound like.

It had worked because Dave agreed to let me write it on a small sheet of paper. I should mention that it was completely lost on me what he intended or how that hadn’t been much of a victory.

“You can hold your ass apart with this sign on your back in my living room. If you act like a good little party favor, not only will I let you suck my dick, but I’ll invite you, and your little friend Reginald to my next party.”

“Gerald” Gerald corrected.

“Your new name is Reginald, do you have a problem with that Gerald?” Dave could be funny when he was drunk as well and I have to admit that was kind of cute. I stifled a laugh as we walked into the living room.

“Please Sir, don’t lose the chastity belt.” I confided in Gerald (who was now answering to Reginald, at least to Dave).

The room seemed to pause to laugh at my nudity. I guess having the latex body paint gave the illusion of clothes, but now there was no mistaken that bald beaver had entered the room. I got on the floor near his plasma screen on all fours and they set a large bowl of nachos and cheese deep on my back with the note.

I held my ass cheeks apart, with the paper sign that I had written “SNIFF MY BUTTHOLE!” and a winky cat face ;-X (the last part had been my idea).

It occurred to me the first time I heard my classmates laughing and standing over me that they were taking photos, and photos could get back to my dad. I would be up shit’s creek without a paddle if he found out about this. It was too late now though to change my mind.

Only a few guys took me up on the sign’s offer, bending down low to sniff the aroma of what was probably a very sweaty ass - admittedly, a cheerleader’s ass, but what do you think comes out of there, honey?

I was used more as a place to set cold beers or for people to grab nachos. At least once someone joked that they would dip the nacho between my ass cheeks, but I think with others watching they were afraid to be that forward with me. I didn’t flinch or cry, I wanted too.

I stayed like furniture just waiting for the chance to suck off these football players and end this hard chapter of my life. A chapter that seemed to go on forever and ever with no end in sight.

A chapter of torment, one where I was the laughing stock and no one was standing up to my rescue.

After an hour (or what felt like an hour) Gerald prodded me and told me I could get up. “Dave fell asleep”

“What? I should probably stay here in case he wakes up” I said. I had grown used to being on the floor underneath everyone’s feet. I had tuned out the music and the noise and the laughter, and had sort of gone into my ‘happy place’ where I was one with my thoughts.

“No, he is out. You can go up and see him.” He held up the chastity belt as he took the nachos off my back. I felt like a horse being unsaddled. It wasn’t actually a relief though, I had grown used to the burden.

“Can I keep off the belt until after we check on him Sir?” I didn’t want to remain naked, but at the same time trying to get harnessed with that anal plug was probably going to be more embarrassing.  In my wildest dreams I would never have imagined having to pick being naked at a party because the alternative is worse. He took me upstairs and there was Dave with Thad and Noah passed out on top of Hope in his father’s bed.

“Wow, a three-way” I gasped as I stared at the snoring students.

“Technically, that would have been a four-way, but somehow I don’t think it went like that” Gerald pointed out how Noah and Dave were laying on top of each other, their cocks touching. He took a picture with his cell phone “Call me Reginald will you!” laughing.

“I don’t think Dave is gay, Sir” I whispered to him.

“Think about it, He wouldn’t let you suck his cock, he plays football, why else is he so free with the gay comments?”

I shuddered at the idea “May I at least suck your cock, Sir?”

I didn’t have to ask him twice. He led me into another room and unzipped his package which was the largest I had seen to date. He showed me how his long fingers could probe me as well and I didn’t say anything to him about taking the extra liberties. I wouldn’t have said anything if he fucked me with his giant cock. Well I may have said “Oh, Oh! Oh My GAWD!!” but he didn’t try and I didn’t beg.

Instead, I let him explore me, play with my ass and pussy, and taste me on his fingers, while we made out on a bed in Dave Stravosky’s house. I touched him back, playing with his cock and cupping his balls before wetting my lips and sucking his dick. This would be seven in one day, and that’s my first day ever sucking dicks.

He lasted a long time before he finally unloaded his warm semen into my mouth and I gobbled it all dutifully. “You are even better than your mom”

“Thank you Sir” I don’t want to sound like a total bitch, but I was proud of that compliment. I know that is kind of mean to my mom, but he said it, I didn’t. We laid tangled together for a few minutes while he caught his breath before an old man’s voice came out of the darkness right next to us.

“Are you two finished?”

I don’t know who he was, probably Dave’s Grandfather but we got the hell out of there before we could answer him and ran down the stairs to finish out the party.

The Family Feud III

Chapter Thirty-Four
“Olive Garden, when you are here, you are family!”

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 36
Get out of jail cards: 1
WHORE: 1,3,1,0,0
JAMIE: 39
Get out of jail cards: 1
WHORE: 1,3,1,0,0

**Note to reader: This is Wendy’s journal from Friday Night detailing the events of approximately 10PM after her talk with Vicky at the book store. Some of Wendy’s journal was altered to protect the name of the corporation and some of the employee’s identities. In order to increase readability, some of the dialogue exchanged was altered to appear in a ‘narrative’ story format.

I felt a little bad about what I had just done to Vicky. She had been my biggest rival at work, stealing the credit for my work, poaching my best staff members. There was usually no guilt associated with paying her back in kind – after all, it’s just business.

She had just been kind enough to lend me some makeup and let me blow dry my hair. I am sure I looked like a train wreck - a train that had been loaded down with dirty whores.

This past week one tip I have picked up is if you plan to suck a lot of dicks, regular lipstick just won’t cut it. Vicky had that 16 hour all-day lip color by Covergirl. It was hot pink, which isn’t my shade but beggars can’t be choosers.

The point is I suspect the kindness, and her dressing like me is her way of showing me respect.

As strange as it sounds, I don’t believe she bought those books to give her an edge in the office. I don’t believe she is dressing like a slut for that reason either. I think she is genuinely copying what she sees me wearing and doing because on some level she respects me and wants to be me.

Isn’t that the bitter irony of life? Years of professional rivalry and here we are not that unlike my Sister and I? Both after trying to be just like our idealized vision of the other.

Do I really have to worry about bad karma anymore? Could my life get any worse? Okay, no point in feeling sorry for myself. I have my health, and my family is still together. In another week, this will be done and I’ll have a new perspective and a fresh start with them. Things could definitely be worse, so yes I still have to worry about karma - what comes around, goes around.

I could of course be imagining that, and she really is just a cold, calculating monster with no morals who will do anything to succeed in the office. I like that theory better because it doesn’t make me feel so bad for planting a seed in her mind to go to Steve and ask him if he will be her handler. I don’t know what possessed me to tell her that, but I can just picture Steve putting her through the same therapy he thinks I asked him for.

Speaking of treatment, my ‘date’ and his friends weren’t sure where to take me. I am obviously the first date any of them have ever had. We walked around the parking lot of the loop so they could show me off to strangers. That was awkward, this MILF dressed like a whore walking around with a gaggle of young teenage boys telling her what to do.

“Are you really Sheldon’s Aunt?” Millhouse asked me.

“Yes Sir, why do you ask?”

“You seem so compliant, it just seems improbable.” Millhouse stated  analytically.

“You are Magic the Gathering players, I have a great deal of respect for you.”

“Respect is one thing, but you seem willing to follow our orders.” I had to hand it to Millhouse that was a fair sense of reasoning. I think the fact he finally got a little nookie may have made him less shy. I suppose I should be proud if I can claim responsibility for making a ‘man’ out of a boy.

“My nephew has blackmail on me, so I’ll do what he tells me within reason. Now that he has shared that with you, I am at your mercy too.” I tried to sound convincing with the convoluted cover story that Sheldon had given me. I had to juggle one at work, it seemed fitting I’d have to juggle one for my dates.

“So if I told you to suck my toe, you would?” Millhouse asked as if he were trying to feel out his boundaries.

“If we were some place a little more private than the parking lot of a shopping center, and it was okay with Sheldon, then Yes Sir, I would.”

Clint slapped Millhouse hard on his shoulder, “Dude, you have a foot fetish? That is gross.”

Millhouse became a little guarded and he denied having a full blown fetish.

“If you are going to stick your foot into a hole, stick it into that brown poop chute of hers!” Clint suggested.

I don’t know why I smiled at how crude their comments were, it was almost as if I weren’t present and they were bragging about things they would do to some whore if they had the chance.

“Aunt Wendy, you know it isn’t nice to tease my friends.” Sheldon had been silent until now. I didn’t understand what he was talking about so he explained further. “Don’t you think if you are going to promise you will let my friends toe-fuck you in every hole, you should deliver on that promise, instead of just talking about it like a dirty phone sex operator?”

“I am sorry Sir. I was just making conversation and answering your friend’s question.”

“Sorry doesn’t it cut it. If you are going to get us excited talking about foot fetishes and how you’d like to suck our feet, then you should have too!”

I assumed Sheldon was trying to get me to agree I had done something wrong so I nodded politely and apologized again to Millhouse. The other boys looked somewhat amused, except for Todd who just looked a little dumbfounded.

They led me behind a Bed, Bath and Beyond to another dumpster. What is it with dumpsters and sex - Doesn’t anyone like beds anymore?

I half expected to see Weird Larry or some other strange person hanging around inside the concrete cubicle that surrounded the smelly dumpster. We were all alone.

“Should I undress, Sir?” I asked awkwardly.

“No, you stand there with your thumb up your ass.” Sheldon said sarcastically. I paused wondering if he was serious. The way this night had been going I felt it could have been a legitimate order. He slapped  my tits and made it clear he meant I should strip for the boys.

I hung my skirt and top on the metal bar that runs across the top of the dumpster just like I had at Best Buy as I stepped out of what I was wearing.

“You are a real dumpster slut, you know that?” Clint asked me. I assumed it was rhetorical, but he seemed to be waiting for me to agree with him.

“Yes Sir, I guess I am a dumpster slut. Would you like me to suck your feet?”

Millhouse piped up to say that he would be first which seemed to be fine with everyone else.

“Unlock that belt though, so I can toe fuck her ass.” Clint  had cum fairly early when we were back at the bathroom and I could sense he felt gypped when the others came in my ass. He was acting like he wanted to get his money’s worth even though he hadn’t paid anything.

Once I had my chastity belt unlocked and removed, I had to kneel on the cracked pavement, but in the darkened parking lot I don’t think they saw my pained expression. If they did, they didn’t care.

I bent down to start sucking Millhouse’s big toe after he pulled off his gym shoes. It wasn’t that bad, it is like sucking a cock only smaller.

Clint gingerly added his big toe to my asscrack, jabbing it in while standing behind me. I had to take my hands off guiding Millhouse’s toe to my mouth to pull my cheeks open  so he could get his toe in. I couldn’t believe that I was still not numb to this sort of humiliation. The idea of spreading my asshole wide for a fat teenage boy to jab his big toe up my butt sent fresh shockwaves of guilt and embarrassment up and down my spine.

Sheldon and the others were laughing at me, although I think Todd wasn’t really entertained. After Millhouse had each of his toes sucked in turn, Clint came around to my face. “Open wide, magic slut!”

I did as I was told and he tried to fit most of his dirty foot into my mouth.

“How does it feel to know that I just had this toe up your ass with all your crap and the cum we packed up your ass?”

I couldn’t answer since my mouth was stuffed. A part of me wanted to defiantly remind him he didn’t last long enough to pack my ass with anything but his toe. It’s probably for the best my mouth was preoccupied accommodating his foot or else I am sure they would have been harder on me.

Sheldon and Chuck at first seemed to be trying to foot fuck me with their bare feet. They were each going for a different hole. I couldn’t hold myself open, because it was all I could do to keep with Clint’s foot driving itself into my tonsils.

I had started out kneeling, but now I was in a position some place between all fours and kneeling, trying to hold myself still.

Chuck and Sheldon began just kicking me in my ass cheeks and when they found those were too tough, they came around to the side and began kicking me in the stomach. It knocked the wind out of me and eventually I collapsed  on the ground.

“Are you okay?” Millhouse asked with what sounded like genuine concern.

“I think so, Sir.”

“See, I told you she was faking.” Clint sounded angry with me for falling over.  “We should curb stomp this bitch, and get home and finish our game.”

Todd who had been watching and not participating, came to my aid, “Nobody is curb stomping anyone.”

I was smiling to myself. There WERE some genuinely good people in the world. It seemed like almost anyone with a cock could be convinced to put it inside me one way or another.  I was glad that he was standing up for me.

Then he added, “This slut was probably born before my mom, let’s just get the fuck out of here.”

That genuinely hurt my feelings and I laid my naked body flat on the ground, hugging the cracked pavement. He had taken the wind out of my sails completely with that comment. It was true of course. I may have been as old as his mother, but it still hurt to hear it from someone who I thought was defending my decency.

Sheldon was the only one to remain after they decided to call it quits on their dirty games with me. “Are you hungry, Auntie?”

I lay there naked on the ground for a few seconds wondering why he was still calling me his Aunt. I had heard the boys leave. I got the impression that the idea of the incest, even though it was just pretend, turned him on and it wasn’t just a cover story after all.

“You aren’t going to make me eat from the dumpster, are you Sir?” I asked skeptically as I started up and began to dust myself off.

“Funny” Sheldon answered as if he might have been considering that and my sarcasm had changed his mind. “I was thinking some place really nice and elegant – Olive Garden.”

I almost laughed out loud that “Olive Garden” and “Really nice and elegant” were used in the same sentence without the words “is not”.

Sheldon’s mom is obviously well off. I am sure he has been to restaurants much nicer than Olive Garden. Chris calls it the “Highest Quality of all the low quality restaurants.” which is kind of funny, I suppose, for a teenage boy with whatever money he has. Perhaps it is the best he can do. I pretended to be gracious and thankful.

I was thankful, after all this week, most of my meals came with a side of cum sauce.  I guess I was just pretending to be gracious about it as he watched me dress, since any food had to be an improvement over that.

On the walk to Olive Garden, Sheldon rediscovered his fondness for his wire whip and he became reacquainted with my ass. I could have sworn that as hard as he was hitting my thighs and ass that it shredded my skirt but somehow the tough little thing held out under all his abuse.

“You are going to be a good Aunt at  the restaurant?”

~Thwack~

“Yes Sir!” I’d blurt out, but he’d hit my butt anyway. It didn’t matter what I answered. Bill and Chris would at least consider if the context of my answers warranted a spanking. Sheldon was just being unfair.

Friday night at Olive Garden is a depressing experience. The people waiting for a table are the usual couples and families who couldn’t get seated at Macaroni Grill or Carrabas. They have already waited at those places to be seated and now to add insult to injury they are waiting for a table at the restaurant that was never anyone’s first choice (with the exception of my date).

We had to wait next to an older couple in their late sixties.

“Is that your son?” the nice old woman asked.

“No, he is my nephew, Ma’am.” I answered sweetly. I was surprised how easy it was for me to lie about this to her.

“Oh, that is nice.” She answered seemingly oblivious to Sheldon pinching my butt as I answered.

I felt like I was about to burst out of the tube top I was wearing. Her husband was staring right at my bouncing tits and hard nipples. I suppose this is pay back for laughing at guys with obvious hard-ons underneath their pants. Nature gave me big fat nipples and I had to go ahead and let surgery gift me with d-cup boobs, so now my medicine is to sit quietly while a man older than my father pretends he isn’t  looking right at my tits through my top – and his wife pretends she doesn’t notice him looking.

“It was so nice meeting you.” they said as we were led to our table. I would have loved to hear what she said about me after we left. I am sure it was something that would have thrilled our neighborhood gossip Mrs. Waxerman about my nerve to dress this way and act so disgracefully.

I waited for my date to be seated first in the booth. He didn’t acknowledge my attempts at being  a polite little slut for him. He began studying the menu intently as if I wasn’t sitting with him.

When he finally looked up, he asked me if I knew what I wanted.

“I get to order for myself, Sir?” I asked with amazement. I had assumed he was going to choose for me.

“Oh no, good point.” He looked back down at the menu to pick out what I would be having. Me and my big mouth. I do this to Bill too without thinking about it. I think sometimes I’ve said or done something that fed him the idea to make things even harder on me than they really are. I have to wonder if my subconscious is really masochistic or if I just say the dumbest things some times?

He ordered the lasagna for himself and a root beer. “You have been putting on a few pounds haven’t you, Aunt Wendy?”

I agreed with him in front of the waitress because he implied I should. I don’t have rock hard abs like my daughter, but I don’t think I am pudgy either.

“She’ll just have the soup, salad and bread sticks.”

I smiled, that sounded like the best dinner I’ve had in two weeks. I made a mental note to send him a thank you card when this is all over for the rare treat.

“On second thought, just the breadsticks, and water with lemon.”

There went HIS thank you card. I tried to put on my thankful and gracious face, I think he bought it (or he didn’t care).

“That was very thoughtful of you, Sir.” I tried to hide the trace of sarcasm from  my voice once the waiter left.

“Yeah I know, but I already paid twenty for the date. I wasn’t sure I should have to shell out for your dinner too.” He rationalized to me. “How much of that twenty do you get to keep?”

I almost lost my cool and laughed at the idea that I was here to earn a portion of twenty dollars. “My son keeps all of the money, Sir.” I managed to keep a straight face.

“That’s the rule of the pimping game. The pimp handles 100% of the money.” Sheldon tried to sound ‘gangsta’ and it took all the self-control I had not to laugh at him.

We talked casually until the food came and I made polite conversation. I was surprised he wasn’t more interested in why I was allowing all of this to happen to me. If I had been in his situation, I probably would have as well. He was more interested in talking about himself so I listened with feigned interest while he discussed video games, and internet memes that interested him.

“I could order you to take that chastity belt off and dip those breadsticks in your pussy.”

“Technically, you couldn’t Sir.” I reminded him that according to the rules of my use, if I have on the chastity belt it can only be taken off for inspections and my using the bathroom.

“You let me and my friends fuck you though!” He said with his mouth full of what smelled like delicious lasagna.

I lowered my voice in the hopes he would lower his so that the people sitting next to us didn’t hear him say things like that. “That is true, and if you tell Chris and my husband I will be punished for it, Sir.”

“IF?” He asked incredulously. “Why wouldn’t I tell them?”

“Would you want to tell them you left me to be raped by three guys, when you were supposed to be watching me?”

“I hardly think it’s possible to rape the willing.”

I shook off the intended insult. I wasn’t sure what to think about what happened to me at the book store. I would be processing that for some time to come. “Did you know those guys?”

“Yeah, they like to make fun of us and disrupt our games. You don’t seem any worse for the wear.” He answered dismissively.

I wanted to point out that I could have been killed, carved up or anything, but I decided not to press the issue. “Would you consider not telling my husband and son about anything that happened at the book store? Let’s pretend it never happened, Sir”

“Why would I do that? I don’t care if you get punished.” He seemed genuinely amused I would be punished.

“Think about it from a practical perspective, Sir. If you tell them what I did, they probably won’t let me come with you again, and if they do, I certainly won’t play along as your Aunt and fuck all of your friends.” I tried to appeal to his sense of reason.

“Deep throat your breadsticks when the waiter comes around and I’ll think about it.” He laughed while he spun his fork in the Lasagna that he wasn’t even going to finish. I was famished and it looked fabulous. I take back all the mean things I said about Olive Garden being mediocre. Right then I would have licked the plate clean  if  it had been on Clint’s sweaty, fat ass at the time.

I agreed to his terms and each time the waiter came over, I found a reason to dip the long, phallic shaped garlic bread stick into my throat and look right at him. He gave me an awkward stare. He was one of those impossibly handsome waiters that you just know must be gay, so I don’t think this was doing anything for him.

It was doing something for my naughty nephew of a date, because he was playing footsie with me under the table whenever the waiter came by.

“What do you want to do after this?” He asked as the waiter took away his half-finished plate to clear the table.

“Take a shower and sleep in a bed, Sir.”

“They don’t let you do that at home?”

“I get to shower every day, but I am talking about a nice, private shower without someone watching me, or washing me with warm, soapy water.” I was already doing it in my mind, even if I wasn’t going to get it in real life.

“My cousin Jamie soaps up your ass every day?” He asked with a smirk.

I wanted to tell the little twerp that we aren’t really related because now that he mentioned Jamie as his cousin it was creeping me out. Truth be told, it wasn’t that, as much as it was I desperately wanted to know what happened at Jamie’s football game. I hadn’t heard police sirens or ambulances in the distance, so at least things hadn’t been TOO bad I joked to myself.

“Yes Sir, we soap each other up, and Chris makes us spend a lot of time on our dirty asses.” I answered honestly. He delighted in hearing details like that even though he rarely initiated the question himself.

“Maybe next Friday, I’ll rent you both for the night.”

“That is up to you Sir, and I am sure she will play along as your cousin.” I noticed his face wilt a little when I reminded him we were only related through make believe. “But only blowjobs for you and your friend when she is around, okay Sir?”

He seemed disappointed with me that I wasn’t willing to do everything in front of Jamie. I wondered how come he didn’t consider himself lucky we’d both be sucking his cock. He was just too young to know how good he really had it with us.

He yawned, “It’s getting late, I think I’ll take you to the park after this and call it a night.” His tone had a sudden ennui of jaded boredom  about it.

“I thought we were having a nice conversation, Sir.” I smiled reflectively.

“You just want to stall so you don’t have to get tied to a tree in the park.” He laughed. I hadn’t even  thought about that stipulation. It sounded so far out that I was going to have to willingly hug a tree and be tied there until morning that I couldn’t even picture it.

“Dine and dash.” He announced and he stood up and began to walk slowly out of the restaurant as if he had left his money on the table. I followed him, fearing the repercussion of waiting at the table with no money at all.

I haven’t dined and dashed in my entire life. I have to admit a certain thrill to it - an adrenalin rush. Once we left the restaurant we walked much faster and kept looking over our shoulder for some Manager to chase us but no one ever came. I have to admit that fear of the unknown and doing something naughty felt very familiar, it was a lot like some of the dares and humiliations I had endured this past week.

“I have never done that before, Sir!” I said with excitement once we were sure we were in the clear.

“That is a shocker. Something you have never done?”

“I wasn’t always the naughty Aunt. Last week, I would never have done any of this with you.”

“I call bullshit on that. There is no way you could handle two gang bangs and a toe-fucking in one night after just one week.”

“I was wondering the same thing about you and your friends. They seemed to have no problem taking down their pants and fucking me right in my ass in front of each other.”

“Are you kidding? We were laughing and making fun of each other the whole time. Did you see the size of Clint’s weenis? It was like a cocktail weiner.”

“Weenis, that’s funny Sir.” I laughed. “I was too busy dealing with your friend Millhouse’s thick python.”

“Really? Is his like the biggest you have ever had?” I wasn’t sure why Sheldon seemed so proud of his friend’s girth.

“I think it is definitely up there, in size.” I had just realized I had lost track of which was the biggest. I had more sexual partners than I could remember this past week after almost twenty years of marriage.

“He has such a small body, that it probably seems disproportionate to his size.” He added. ”That is forced perspective. Your vantage point makes it seem larger than it really is.”

I nodded and joked, “I need one of those for my ass to make it look smaller, Sir.”

“Actually, you have a perfect ass. It’s like J-Lo’s, firm and round”

I smiled at his flattery, unsure why he was being so nice all of a sudden. “I didn’t know guys your age still even listen to Jenifer Lopez.”

“She is a singer?”

“Well that answers that question, Yes Sir, she is a singer as well as an actress and life support for a perfect ass.”

“We are almost to the park, I am enjoying our talk. It’s going to be a shame to have to leave you  there.” He changed the subject.

“You don’t have too, Sir? You could walk me home. It is only a few more blocks.”

“No, I should be getting home. My Mom will be pissed. I didn’t tell her I was going out.”

“I thought you told her you were going to a birthday party, Sir?”

“She would have known something was up. I wouldn’t miss my Friday Night Magic the Gathering for just anything.”

“I am flattered you thought enough of me to miss your game for me. You didn’t have to tell me you were going to a birthday party though.”

“I was nervous when I first met you. I wasn’t sure you were really going to do everything Chris said.” He admitted before acknowledging my compliment. “I didn’t miss the card game. I missed PLAYING in the game, but now they are going to make me guild master, so it was worth it.”

“I am glad my fucking your friends helped your social standing then, Sir.” I giggled and we walked hand in hand for a while until we reached Cambier park. The park was only lit by a few overhead lamps and there was no one there.

We walked past the playground and the birthday pavilions where some soccer mom would be throwing her kids a birthday party tomorrow morning. I felt like I was being walked to the gallows after my last meal.

He guided me to a small wooded area next to a lake. “What if there is some homeless person living in there, Sir?” I asked him nervously as I scanned the dark woods for signs of any one.

“Then he’d probably fuck you, silly.” The flippant way that Sheldon answered my question made him seem like an annoying know it all. I could see why he was considered a ‘nerd’ at school.  He had a tendency to take that tone all of the time with adults. I know I am supposed to see him as my ‘better’ and superior but he makes it damned hard when he talks like a punk who over simplifies everything.

“You aren’t afraid of snakes or armadillos?”  I asked him as we started along a well-worn path to the center of the trees.

I should also point out that Cambier park is in the middle of the suburbs and the trees they have allowed to remain are surrounded on all sides by town houses and the park itself. That is why it came as no surprise when he dismissed my concern “This is where the cool kids go to smoke dope, one of them would have been bit by now if there were any wild animals roaming around here – stop freaking out.”

It had to be close to midnight and my body should be tired, but I had a heightened sense of nervousness that became refreshed when he told me to undress. “This time your shoes and everything.”

“My collar too, Sir?” I asked obediently as I stepped out of my skirt for what had to be the dozenth time today.

“No, that’s the symbol of your station as a slave, I guess that can remain.” He made it sound like he was doing me a favor as he impatiently collected my skirt, tube top and shoes. I hadn’t heard myself referred to as a ‘slave’ very often and it felt surreal. I guess I am a ‘slave’ but not in the traditional sense of civil war era slaves. I am my son’s and husband’s property though, so I accepted my fate and turned around so that Sheldon could unlock my chastity belt and leave me completely naked.

I put my hands behind my head without being told and waited for him to fool around with the lock in the dark until he finally got it to click. Then I shimmied out of it and presented  it to him.

“I have to give this back to Chris, you really want to send it home like this?” He asked as if I had just farted in his teeth.

I stood there confused with my fingers still interlaced behind my head until I realized what he was talking about. “Thank you for reminding me, Sir.” I turned around to face him. “May I please be permitted to clean my chastity belt before you return it to my owner?”

“Clean it of what?” He giggled at my discomfort.

Bill and Chris had Jamie really into the entre not sugar coating everything and saying what you  mean in the most vulgar way possible so that you really feel it. I was still resistant to that philosophy and it was difficult for me to do it when Bill and Chris weren’t making sure I was compliant with their rules.

“My pussy juice and my ass sweat, Sir.”

“Do you think there may be some poop on the butt plug?” He was laughing as he handed it to me.

I sniffed the metal plug and smiled, “I don’t think so, Sir.” I began to lick and as I did I was aware of just how long and oddly sharpened that anal plug really seems when you look at it closely.

“Did you get wet tonight?”

“Yes Sir, many times.” I answered unsure if he really understood the difference between orgasms and getting wet and not wanting to tell him unless he asks.

“So you get off on this treatment, then?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer him. I could tell him I hated every second of it, but in truth some of it was an adventure. “I am not sure, Sir. I try to think about if I am being pleasing to others.” I gave a safer answer that he accepted.

“May I also squat, before you tie me to the tree Sir?”

“Why do you have to go poop?”

I did, but I also wanted to get any cum that was inside of me out before my morning inspections. “Yes Sir, I have to piss and shit, and try to drain any cum from  my cunt  and ass.”

“Wow, that’s TMI.” He laughed about how much I had told him of what I needed to do and gave me permission to squat as long as I kept licking the chastity belt clean.

“My son and husband like me to be very explicit about things like that Sir, sorry if it offended you.” I squatted down over some bushes and held the chastity belt up like a ripe melon I was eating.

“There isn’t any toilet paper.” He laughed at me as if I hadn’t been aware of that when I asked permission to shit in the woods.

“I know Sir, I’ll air dry. I am rarely given permission to waste toilet paper on my own ass and cunt, Sir.” I told him the truth of my sorry existence.

“That is fucking nasty.” He laughed at me.

“Don’t you like your Aunt to be nasty, Sir?” I laughed back while grunting over releasing my bowels in the woods.

“Yeah, I guess I do, Aunt Wendy.” He brightened up while I finished letting myself dribble the last remaining icky goo out of my ass and pussy.

“Have you ever eaten shit, before?” He asked as if it were a common question.

“I can’t say that I have.” I laughed and he seemed disappointed. “If it is any consolation I have licked Jamie’s butthole when it was dirty and I think there IS some of my fudge on the plug.”

He brightened up at the idea that I had tasted my own ‘fudge’. “You licked the wet poop off your daughter’s ass?” he sounded delighted by that.

“By the time I cleaned her asshole with my tongue it had dried and it looked almost white in color, Sir.” I remembered wondering why it looked flaky and white when I cleaned the little bit of mess on her butthole.

“Could that have been dried cum?” he laughed.

“I think I know what dry cum tastes like.” I joked and he agreed. We talked a little longer like that until I had milked it as long as I could. I would have to hug the tree and stand there in silence all night.

If the walk here had felt like the long walk to the gallows pole, this next bit erased all the good natured conversation we had and made me feel like I was putting my head in the noose. I hugged the itchy bark of a big oak tree and could just barely get my arms all the way around.

He had a dirty old rope he knew would be at the playground. It was coated in some kind of all -weather plastic that made the braids itch too.

He tied it around my waist several times and then looped it around my legs and neck until there was no way I was getting out of these knots.

“Eagle Scout.” He announced with pride as he finished his knot.

“Chris was too, right up until 9th grade.” I had a flashback to the fact that he seemed to be too old for scouting and it had been about the time he stopped being a ‘regular kid’ and being considered a ‘nerd’ by most.

“You mind if I piss on your back before I go?” He asked me. He was rather polite about his request, which only made me grin. He couldn’t see my face so I answered softly “Would it matter if I mind, Sir?”

His answer was a trickle of wet urine running down my back. I suppose you could look on the bright side and assume that the piss will wash away the dried cum that had matted on my back.

“Thank you Sir, were you happy with my service tonight?” I asked him when he finally finished and left me a dripping mess.

“You just want to keep me here talking because you don’t want to be left alone.” He was partially correct, I was afraid of the silent night air and the unknown of the woods.

“I just want to be sure you were happy with my performance and will not suggest I be punished for being a bad date, Sir.” I went with the safe answer, but I had a feeling he knew he was right about my stalling before ending this chapter of my night.

“You did good. I think your daughter sucks better cock than you though.” He laughed and with that he walked away leaving me alone in the dark and tied to a tree naked.

All in all, not that bad of a first date. Hey at least he didn’t come back and shove a stick up my ass. J

The Family Feud III

Chapter Thirty-Five
“Hidey Ho, Neighbor!”

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 39
Get out of jail cards: 1
WHORE: 2,3,1,0,0
JAMIE: 47
Get out of jail cards: 1
WHORE: 4,3,1,0,0

**The Taylor’s Story returns to the previous narrative voice.

Wendy was shocked that Chris came to untie her in the clearing at the crack of dawn. Her son was a notorious over sleeper, but this week of power had changed that. He had been the first one up to untie the girls, and he hadn’t given Wendy any reason to doubt he wouldn’t keep his word.

That didn’t stop her from feeling guilty over the fact that a part of her thought she may end up in the woods for far

longer. She had spent the last few hours unable to do anything more than nod off for a few minutes before a twig, a birds call or a strange sound on the nearby road awoke her.

“You seem glad to see me.” Chris smiled enthusiastically as he walked up to his naked mother. She was tied in a fashion so she was hugging the tree with her face turned slightly to see his approach.

“Yes Sir, actually I am!” Wendy was relieved to be going home, even if it was as his pet.

“I am surprised Sheldon didn’t gag you as I asked.” Chris became pragmatic.

“Actually, I am surprised he didn’t put a stick up my butt, Sir!” Wendy wiggled her ass to punctuate her joke.

“Did he play with your ass?” Chris’s question was pedantic and straight forward.

Wendy wasn’t sure if her pause gave away the fact she had some secrets to keep about the night before. She offered diligently, but a little more guarded than before “Yes Sir, he inspected my asshole, but no more than could be expected of a dirty-ass like mine, Sir.”

That seemed to placate Chris who began untying her. “Do you need an affirmation or can it wait until you get home?”

Wendy was surprised that Chris was now so business like and seemingly concerned. “If it pleases you, I will do one with Jamie.” That was her chance to passively aggressively probe to see how things had gone with her the night before.

Chris didn’t say anything other than, “Okay” and he pulled his mother’s clothes out of some shrubs nearby.

“I thought he was dropping those by the house, which is why I had to stay naked, Sir?”

“Nah, we just wanted you to think that.” Chris sneered, “Mosquitos bite last night?”

“If they did, I didn’t notice too much sir.”

“This training is toughening you up, making you have a higher pain threshold!” Chris’s words an observation more than a question so Wendy said nothing as he slapped her ass, except to nod in agreement.

Wendy explained there had been “no see ‘em’ gnats buzzing around her face, but Chris only laughed at his mother’s discomfort.

“How did Jamie do last night?” Wendy just came right out and asked, as she pulled the chastity belt over her knees and around her waist. She was afraid Chris may backhand her for asking a direct question. He could be touchy when she tried to steer the conversation instead of waiting for him to take the conversation that way.

She had been learning to wait for Chris to finally get around to talking about topics, but she wanted to know if her daughter had gone through with the ‘cunt stunt’ and more importantly if she was out of cheerleading or school.

“Well, you got three stars and me and Dad decided she gets eight if that tells you anything. I am really proud of her.”

That didn’t tell Wendy what she really wanted to know but she was glad her daughter had made progress on the hundred star goal. She just wondered what she had to give up to make that progress.

“Did you suck Sheldon’s cock last night, Cow Tits?”

“Yes, I did.” Wendy was uncomfortable with the question. She had done much more than that, and she hoped this wasn’t a test of honesty. Sheldon may be close to her son and they could be hoping she admitted she did more.

“Good, you get an extra ‘W’, Jamie got three though!” He laughed at how his mother seemed to be falling behind which didn’t bother Wendy at all. She could be competitive with her daughter at times, but now was not one of them. She was glad she was earning her way through this quickly.

On the way home Chris asked questions about her date and kept it casual. He insisted she walk with her hands cuffed behind her back. “That way you can’t get up to anything.” It was a short walk through their neighborhood and early enough there were only a few people out jogging or gardening. Wendy was still horrified at the idea of being in broad daylight dressed like a slut in cuffs. She knew that Jamie had to do this to and from school every day so she didn’t complain.

She didn’t really understand the philosophy about cuffing them so they weren’t ‘up to any trouble’. It reminded her of the role she played at work - the wanton sex-addict who would masturbate at any opportunity. She played along and accepted her diminished role as she was led home by her son.

When they opened the door Wendy gasped. She probably could have gasped at the fact her daughter’s blonde head was bobbing up and down on her father’s cock while he sat on the couch enjoying a world class blow job. That was shocking but the first thing she noticed was a large computer tower with neon lights and a 32’ monitor next to their older family computer. There was a new plasma screen TV with surround sound in the living room and several of the bondage devices, cuffs and bars they had bought the night before.

‘This must have cost a small fortune?’ was the first thought that flashed through her mind before her son backhanded her. This was no small slap it was a hard back of the hand reminder to the face that she should strip.

“Yes Sir, I am sorry.” She answered without even being told what she did wrong. She began to pull her clothes off now that the cuffs were off and put them in the ‘slut box’ in the living room. Jamie kept bobbing on her father’s cock without looking up, but Wendy knew she had heard her arrival. She looked like she was actually enjoying sucking his dick.

“What an amazing actress she is, what a positive soul.” Wendy could see from the bruises up and down her daughter’s legs and the red stripes all over her ass that she’d been recently punished, but there she was chugging along giving a blowjob and smiling. Wendy decided the least she could do was stay positive and upbeat too.

Bill pointed to his wife and told her, “Get on your hands and knees and crawl over here.”

She fell to her knees and crawled naked to the couch, her husband set his warm coffee mug on his wife’s back and told her ‘get right behind your whore daughter’s ass, keep your nose right up to her brown shit hole, until she finishes giving me this blowjob. You had your little break out in the woods. I hope you had some time to think about the punishment card you drew yesterday. You’ll be facing that right after breakfast and we’ll do a little more shopping.”

Wendy’s eyes got wide. It could have been because her night in the woods was hardly ‘a break’. It could have been because she was required to stare at her daughter’s bouncing ass with her nose right between her cheeks while she sucked her father’s dick. It could have been because she remembered how harsh the punishment card she faced was. It was all of those things, but mostly it was the thought that even more shopping, surely Bill had gone spending crazy. He had normally been so thrifty and pragmatic, but Wendy was positive now that he had over spent and they had a balloon payment coming due for the house. She wanted to say something but she silently complied and nuzzled her nose into her daughter’s ass crack as if her face had always been a perfect fit and breathed a quiet sigh.

When Bill finally came, the girls were given breakfast. “You already got your meal, Ass face!” Bill said as if his precious semen should have been enough and he was begrudgingly letting her stick her face into a bowl of soggy cheerios on the kitchen floor out against his best judgment.

Once they had finished with “Slopping these hogs” as Chris said, they ran the girls through the shower and inspection process they had come to expect and began their affirmations in the living room. Wendy and Jamie didn’t admit it, but being home with the discipline they had come to expect was comforting (in its own way) compared to the previous day with so many outsiders.

The girls were ordered into “Squat” position. This wasn’t unusual for an affirmation although most of them were done in inspection position one. The girls were both spreading their knees apart squatting, cupping their ringed tits with their hands, and looking straight ahead. Ass should be parallel to the ground.

~Ring-A-Ling~ Bill rang a bell and waited for the girls to look up out of curiosity.

“Hear that lovely sound? It’s Ass Face’s bell. When you hear that sound you are to come to whoever rang it and be ready to serve. You’ll take the Squatting position unless you are told otherwise, as long as you are in the house and in green protocol, is that understood?”

The girl’s nodded as Bill let them hear the difference between Wendy’s bell and Jamie’s bell several times. He also reminded them and made them repeat back the different protocols that he introduced in his amendment the day before.

They went through the differences in public and in private for green, yellow, red, and white alert. Bill didn't mention his secret 'black alert' that was for his wife to pretend to be a wanton sex-addict at work per their agreement.

“At home, The Taylor women are to be kept naked so you can keep an eye on us, make sure we aren't hiding anything in our pockets or aroused when we should have our mind on our duties. We will not talk out of turn. We will behave in the generally accepted submissive manner according to your W.H.O.R.E/H.O.P.E. value system. We are not permitted to use the toilet, because that is too good for whores like us. Infractions, Corrections and Judgments can and will be administered openly for our failures and indiscretions. We can be ordered to openly masturbate others or ourselves and to suck the cocks of the Taylor men when you desire it. We will sit with legs apart so you have an unobstructed view of all our holes and reinforce our lack of modesty or privacy, and we naturally cannot use furniture to avoid getting snail trails and butt sweat on them.”

When both women could repeat that perfectly Bill was satisfied. He went through each protocol type, and the difference between public and private versions of each alert level.

He also made them repeat what H.O.P.E Stands for - “Humility, Obedience, Patience, Endurance.”

“Those are the core values, now tell me what “W.H.O.R.E” stands for?”

“Working, Humiliation, Obedience, Respect and Endurance, Sir.” they both repeated as they had been trained.

Repitition was a big part of Bill's idea of perfect discipline. He reminded them that the HOPE principles support his WHORE value system and if you are doing one, you are doing the other. He had a look of smug satisfaction on his face as he finished his lecture on the purpose of educating the girls to be more giving, thoughtful and less selfish.

He rang the bells again to give them another chance to learn the distinct rings of each one of the silvered bells.

“Fail to come to the bell on purpose, or come for the wrong bell and that is an immediate infraction. If you do it more than once in the same day it will be a correction and ultimately this can result in a judgment. Do you two twats think you can figure out which bell is yours?”

They both nodded and answered “Yes Sir”.

“We’ll see if you cunts are smart enough to hear your bell and answer it quickly, like good little sluts.”

Chris added “You are to offer to any guest who rings it your service, as if they are a key holder.”

“Thank you for clarifying that Sir.” Wendy answered him graciously. She was surprised and a little pleased that Chris seemed to be doing his best to clarify the rules. He had come a long way from how he was months ago when he didn’t pay attention to anything but his computer games.

“After your affirmations, we are going to the pet store to buy a few more things for you two needy bitches.” Bill announced as if he were once again accommodating their many demands. That wasn’t true of course, neither girl had any desire to go to the pet store and just hearing they were headed there made them both nervous.

“Then when you get home, you can wash our truck, you two sluts got tomato juice and latex all over back there the last two nights with all your slipping and sliding around. Then you will do your punishments, and come with us to the community pool party.” Bill laid out the days itinerary as Wendy considered bringing up their finances but decided against it once again. This time she was just intimidated.

“Wendy Taylor, my whore of a wife, the love of my life. Do you have a problem with the men deciding what you do today?”

“No Sir”

“Your face looks like you just smelled something nasty or you are lost in deep thought. Something on your chest? Besides those big old fake titties?”

“No Sir, I was just thinking about my punishment.” She wasn’t lying. She was thinking about the punishment cards she and her daughter had drawn yesterday for their corrections. That had been on her mind a lot. She was also thinking about a dozen other things like going to the pool in skimpy bikinis with her tattoo and their tenuous financial situation.

“Here, read the card out loud again so you have it fresh in your memory. I like watching your face.”

Elemental Category: Ice, Heat, Wind, Rain, the power of the earth itself will chastise you for your transgressions.

This is the twelve ice cube challenge. You will stand outside on the patio with twelve frozen ice cubes. You may pick any hole (or combination of holes). You will insert them quickly one by one.

You will stand in position one and wait with an empty glass in one free hand. The fill line on the glass is half an inch from the top. You must leak the water to fill the glass (spit or piss does not count). If you do not reach the fill line, you will return to the freezer and repeat until you have filled the glass.

You will present the glass to your owners when complete and beg forgiveness for what you did wrong. You will apologize and explain how this treatment helped you to be a better person.

Bonus: Drink the water (slut squeezin’s) for one star.

Wendy read it out loud and didn’t skimp on looking freshly uncomfortable. “That is a fun thought to roll around in your head today while you go shopping.”

He had his daughter read her punishment card next.

Endurance Category: Hard work obediently done for the pleasure of your betters according to your station.

This is the Waxerman Lawn Challenge. You will go during daylight hours dressed in a street legal bikini, and mow Mrs. Waxerman’s front yard. You will be pleasing and accommodating to her in all ways and tell her that you were sent to trim her lawn as a courtesy from Bill Taylor and his son.

You will trim all hedges, edge all sidewalks, rake and bag all leaves and do a professional job on the front lawn.

You will knock on her door and ask if she minds giving you access to her back yard. You will disrobe as it is fenced in and hang up the bathing suit saying that it is sweaty. You will ask her if she minds (After you undress) and unless she tells you she does you will complete the backyard fully undressed.

We will make sure she is home for this. If Mrs. Waxerman is unavailable for seven days, you do not have to complete the punishment.

Bonus: You will tell Mrs. Waxerman you have been constipated for several days after gorging yourself on cheez-whiz and crackers that were intended for Chris and Bill. You will ask (beg) if she will administer the “Patented Waxerman Tabasco Colonic” in exactly those words. You will tell her that you receive them regularly at home, but that Bill does not mix them quite the way she did the first time. You will ask her not to tell us (Which will ensure she tells us).

You will not be punished for asking her to not tell us something in this situation. You will receive one star if you take the bonus and she does not administer the enema. You will receive two stars if she does. You will receive four stars if you can carry the water all the way home and release here.

Jamie read it in her uplifting normally airy and cheery voice, which wasn’t quite as satisfying until the two of them imagined just what Mrs. Waxerman’s reaction might be. They instinctively fist-bumped, “Bro’s before Ho’s” after she finished reading it.

“Who wants her affirmation first?” Bill asked.

They normally didn’t let the girls have choices like this – this was a new one on Wendy. “I would like mine, Sir.” Wendy asked humbly.

“Oh you would? Don’t you think I’d rather be out playing golf right now, instead of smelling your pussy juices staining my carpet while you squat naked like a little ape that has to be watched every second?”

“Yes Sir?”

“Don’t presume to know what I’d prefer.” He lashed at his wife with a thin rod he had purchased the night before. It didn’t make a satisfactory sound when it bit into her skin and so he discarded it for a leather cat of nine tails.

“Here, get into position two, face your ass towards us, put a finger from each hand on your cunt lips and hold yourself apart while we do your affirmation seated comfortably.” Bill and Chris took a spot on the couch while Wendy bent at the waist to face away from them. She was surprised how easily it was for her to accept the instructions to bare herself so obscenely. She had been doing it so frequently, she did it instinctively.

“How was your date with Gerald last night?” Bill slapped her ass with the whip at the end of his question. It didn’t sting too bad, because he wasn’t doing it hard. He was just playing around while he talked to her.

“She went out with Sheldon last night. Gerald was Ass Face’s date.” Chris corrected his father.

“Thanks Son, it was a trick question. I wanted to see if this cunt was even listening.” He didn’t sound mad at his son, and it was possible he was just saying that rather than admitting he had gotten the names mixed up. Wendy thought the old Bill would definitely do that, but the new Bill was becoming much different.

“Sheldon took me to a book store to show me off to his friends, Sir.” Wendy started to explain.

“Oh my gosh, that geek. Let me guess, he tried to use you as leverage to get somewhere in his magic the gathering guild?” Chris laughed as he asked the question.

“Yes Sir, I was the ‘magic the gathering groupie’ for him.

“So you lied to his friends?” Bill asked with his arms crossed.

“I was a good slut, and tried to accommodate his fantasy Sir. I didn’t want to make my date look foolish by undermining him to his friends.” She thought that was a rather good answer, but she got a harder slap with the whip for her effort.

“Yet you lied, which is your nature!! Make up, stuffed bras, high heels, it is all to deceive, and it was very easy for you to do, wasn’t it Cow Tits?”

“Yes Sir, but I did feel guilty about it.”

“Bullshit.” He pronounced. “So continue, tell us all about your DATE.” Bill almost sounded jealous for a second, at least to Wendy’s ear.

“Then he took me to Olive Garden, Sir.”

“Olive Garden? What does a cunt like you deserve with good food like that?”

Wendy knew Bill wasn’t a food snob by any means, however even he wasn’t impressed with Olive Garden. She pictured the two of them going to one after this ordeal is over and joking about nights like the one she had with Sheldon. “I only ate breadsticks and water, Sir.”

“Sheldon knows how to treat a slut when he goes on a date with her!” Bill sounded impressed as he prodded his wife to continue both verbally and with the butt end of his whip.

“Then he walked me to the woods, let me piss and shit and suck his cock to show my gratitude and tied me to a tree Sir.”

“Did you have fun, slut?” Chris asked an unexpected question. It made Wendy smirk and giggle because it was so out of the blue.

“Something funny about that question, Cow Tits?” Bill lashed his wife’s ass with his cat of nine tails.

“No Sir, I guess not. It’s just that no one told me we were supposed to actually have fun with this treatment.”

“You aren’t slut, Chris was being sarcastic. Are you that fucking stupid?” his next shot came up between her legs and hit her right in the pussy-meat. It made her hiss like a cat.

“Ooh that is the sweet spot, under the legs is going to be much more fun.” Bill announced. “Can you see any reason why Sheldon might tell us to punish you for being rude or ungrateful?”

“No Sir, I think he will want to date one of us again.” Wendy indicated her daughter. “He did tell me that Jamie sucked cock better than I did.”

Jamie smiled genuinely while remaining in her own squat position beneath where her mother stood.

“You both need a lot more practice,” Bill sighed. “you going to open those mouths and offer them at the pool party later today?”

“If you tell us to, yes Sir.” Wendy hoped her husband couldn’t hear her swallow as she envisioned her friends and neighbors gasping at whatever spectacle he had planned for them.

“If you finally come face to face with the pooper snooper boys from the backyard, you gonna suck their cocks?”

Wendy answered her son, “Sir, I don’t even know how old they are.”

“Oh, Cow Tits has standards? Dad did you hear that? She sucked off a high school boy last night and the night before, and now she has height requirements to ride her ride.”

“It’s a slippery ride.” Bill reached beneath his wife’s legs and roughly dug his fingers into her pussy to emphasize that she was wet.

“They have been watching you two stand naked outside almost every day for a week, you are really worried about corrupting their innocent minds now?” Bill demanded.

Wendy gasped with what sounded almost like pleasure and answered, “If you want me to suck their dicks, I will open my mouth and serve them for you, Sir.”

“And why is that cunt?” Bill asked without removing his hand from her aroused clit, closing his finger and thumb around her clit to give it a good squeeze.

“Ayyiii, because you and Chris are my owners, and I am your whore Sir. It is a better use for my mouth than talking and spreading lies.” Wendy laid the second line on thick and when she didn’t feel the bite of the whip and her husband let up pressure, she could sense he liked that answer. He was getting aroused himself, which was pretty amazing to Wendy, considering he had cum only a few minutes earlier.

“Is your cunt off limits to them today?”

“I think so, Sir?” Wendy wasn’t really sure with all the new rules, and what had happened the night before.

“You planning on wearing your chastity belt under your thong today?”
“No Sir, but aren’t there rules where there are exceptions made for,” she swallowed and made a sound like –ulp- “thongs?”

“Hey Dad, we should stick these thongs up their ass today.” Chris held up the sandaled flip flop thongs he had on his feet for comic effect and his dad chuckled at the mental imagery of them walking down the beach with nothing on but those flip flops wedged between their cheeks.

He looked back at his wife with a smile, “You are right, slut. Can you see that we have taken the time to cover situations that you may face, give you guidelines?”

“Yes Sir, I appreciate that.”

“You should” He withdrew his hand and slapped her ass with a wooden paddle burnished with burgundy colored leather and upraised brass bumps on it. “So many new toys to try out on you. It’s going to be a much more interesting week than last week.” Bill made it sound as if the past week had just been dull and mundane when it had been the most bizarre week the family had ever experienced. “So you agree that it’s fair what we expect of you, since we have defined it and you agreed to it?”

Wendy wanted to say that things really had escalated well beyond anything she would have dreamed for the guys. Then again, she couldn’t really say if things wouldn’t have eventually ended up intense when she was in control of Chris and Bill. “Yes Sir, I think it’s very fair and generous of you both.”

Bill and Chris tag teamed some more questions in their usual style about what her purpose was, and what she was learning before dismissing her out to the yard so they could give Jamie her affirmations. They usually had them stay together but Bill wanted to try out his new toys.

He fastened his wife’s ankles in the spreader bar so that her feet were wide apart held in place by a black metal bar so she was hobbled by it. Then he had her raise her hands parallel to her head and hold her palms facing forward. He attached a metal bar to her wrists and let it rest across her shoulder blades behind her head. “Go stand out by your shovel and wait for your whore daughter.”

“Yes Sir” Wendy, hobbled and naked with only a collar, made her way to the screen door where she had to wait for someone to let her outside.

“If you hear the pooper snooper boys, make sure you invite them to the pool. Tell them you want to meet them. You don’t have to promise, sweet, sweet mouth love.” Chris rubbed it in as he let his mom out into their backyard where Roscoe was anxiously awaiting company.

It was still early morning and Wendy didn’t expect to hear the young boys who had been coming to watch them ‘sunbathe’ every day since their ‘education’ had begun. She stood silently next to the shovel wondering what questions her daughter was being asked. She would have liked to have heard about her daughter’s date the night before and how things had gone at the football game. The suspense was in its own way arousing her, and with her hands as they were she couldn’t sneak a finger to even give herself a little relief.

Wendy was left to stand silently with her thoughts and reflect about the deceptions she had been involved in both at work and with her ‘date night’. She wondered how she would keep all these stories straight and whether or not if it all came crashing down around her and everyone found out the truth, what the worst thing to happen might be. She wondered a lot of things, like if Jamie was hiding things from her too. “Oh, I want a chance to talk to her. Compare notes!” She smiled to herself.

She had to hand it to the guys. It was sweet torment to some times have to stand for long periods in utter silence with nothing but your own thoughts to keep you company.

It would be another ten minutes before the sliding glass door opened and Roscoe’s barks let everyone know he would like some attention followed. Jamie was trussed up the same way as her mother and hobbling her way over to the wooden rake pole that she usually stood next to when they were sent outside to ‘sunbathe’.

Wendy smiled at her daughter as she made her way across the yard in bare feet. With the spreader bar keeping her knees from bending, she could make only a snail’s progress. The guys were inside doing whatever they do, probably looking at all their new electronic toys and gizmos.

“Well this is another fine mess you’ve gotten us into, Stanley.” Wendy made one of the inside jokes they had come up with since this began to break the ice and make her daughter laugh.

“I guess we do look pretty ridiculous, with a wooden pole between our tits, and metal bars holding us apart.” Jamie smirked.

“Yeah, it was all I could do to keep a straight face, and I am just as bad off as you are.” Wendy couldn’t beat around the bush any longer, “So dish, girlfriend! How did it go last night at the game?” She was excited to hear the news  and hoped for the best.

“They made me recount it for the last ten minutes, are you sure you want to hear it in all the gory details?”

“Unless it makes you uncomfortable, sweet heart.” Wendy got serious for a moment in case it had been a traumatic night for her daughter. She didn’t want to make light of that.

“I am learning to be explicit and not sugar coat anything, to be honest. If you want to know, I’ll tell you. I just wanted to make sure you were ready for it.” Jamie smiled reassuring her mom that she was just being considerate of her feelings instead of her own.

She recounted how they had gone to the half-time show and painted her up in red and white colors. Wendy was shocked to learn that Hope was involved in some kind of training. Wendy wondered about the consequences for Hope and what may happen as a result of her melt down. There had been many times she had been so frustrated, angry or afraid that she had wanted to do the same thing she heard Hope did. Just quit the entire humiliating ordeal. She decided she didn't want to think about it.

“I’ve eaten at her father’s restaurant many times, I would never have guessed he is into being treated like a worm?” she asked politely.

“Lowest of the low, Cathy really keeps his balls in a vice.” Jamie explained before adding, “But he seemed to love it. Didn’t want it to end.”

Jamie said she wasn’t sure if she would be off the cheerleading squad. It depended on the new Principal viewing the tape and deciding on Monday.

“Do you think your Dad will really make you stay outside with Roscoe every day?” Wendy asked.

“He is making me stand out here naked to wait for the Pooper Snoopers and invite them to the pool party isn’t he?” Jamie’s rhetorical question removed any doubt from Wendy’s mind that Bill and Chris wouldn’t give either of them any sympathy until this was over.

Jamie described the ride over to Dave’s party and her date with Gerald. Jamie told her mom that she had left out some details about the football players falling asleep and her having the ‘sniff my butthole’ sign at the party.

“Jamie Taylor? I thought you were completely against lying?” Wendy sounded disapproving but with a hint of playfulness because the tables had turned from the lecture Jamie gave to her mom about the importance of honesty.

“No good deed goes unpunished. I am confiding in you but my reason for not telling Dad is because they won’t let Gerald be a key holder if they know he violated almost every one of their rules.”

“So? They would just find another boy to be a key holder. What is the big deal?” Wendy didn’t understand.

“I just don’t want him to get in trouble, that is all.”

“This is the one with the handsome older brother?” Wendy smiled slyly as she asked the question about Brad Jenkins.

Jamie smirked back, “Okay you got me, yes but I don’t want Gerald to be a key holder to be close to Brad. I don’t want him to know about any of this. He probably would never understand.”

“You never know, he may actually be turned on by it.” Wendy answered coyly.

Jamie told her mom about how Gerald took her in the bedroom, and how she planned to suck the football player’s cocks to make it up to them so that she wasn’t actually trying to get out of her bargain. Wendy tried to make it seem like talking about sucking guys dicks casually didn’t faze her but she was still somewhat exasperated and embarrassed to be speaking so openly about it. It had only been a day since her daughter started sucking dicks with her and it was a lot to process.

Jamie admitted she had thought about going all the way with Gerald but hadn’t. A thought that should have scared Wendy but actually made her realize that her daughter was still trying to do what was right and hadn’t got cock crazy - At least not yet. Wendy chuckled about the old man speaking up AFTER they finished having sex.

“Wow, the old man just laid there and listened to you guys grope each other in the dark, and then after you finished he spoke up?” Wendy was smiling and Jamie was laughing as she agreed that was kind of weird.

Wendy had been wrestling with the fact that she hadn’t told Jamie all about the sex she had the night before at the book store and wondering if she did would that be a signal to Jamie she should go ahead and cross that threshold too.

“When it was all over, and we ran out of the old man’s room, I thought Gerald had lost my chastity belt and I would be beaten for sure. I ended up in the pool on Thad’s shoulders playing catfights with other girls in order to get it back. I had to beat three other girls, who were also topless.”

“What the hell goes on at these high school parties?” Wendy was shocked to hear about Hope’s meltdown and the topless girls in the pool. “When our training is over, you aren’t going to any more parties like that young lady!”

“Oh mom!” Jamie rolled her eyes.

“Relax, I am just teasing you,” Wendy confided in her daughter. “After this experience, I think you will be able to handle just about anything life has to throw at you. If you decide you want to go to parties like that after this, I will stand behind it one hundred percent. I know you can handle it and I know you will make the decisions that are best for you.”

Jamie was very genuinely pleased with the compliment her mother had just given her – the respect her mother had just bestowed upon her. She wanted to tell her about the escapades they had getting her home almost naked once the latex had washed off but Roscoe began barking at the rear fence.

That could only mean one thing. There was someone on the other side and it was the customary giggling of the pooper snooper boys.

“Hello Sirs” Wendy said while looking straight ahead, knowing they were on the other side of the fence.

BOY #1 [Jimmy]: “Guess who?”

“Is it Jimmy?” Jamie said sweetly, unable to do anything about her nudity, resting a rake handle in between her boobs.

They snickered to themselves and one of the boys said to Jimmy, “Dude, she knows your name!”

“Of course we know his name, you come out here every day to watch us sunbathe.” Wendy kept up the farce that they were just outside in the yard getting some sun. It was a ludicrous explanation but then so was the truth. They had been sent out there to sweat in the sun and be gawked at while the men did whatever they wanted in the air conditioned house.

BOY #2: “What are those metal things you have on?”

“They are to help us avoid tan lines, Sir”. Jamie said teasingly.

“Yes, this way we get our armpits tanned and everywhere else, Sir.” Wendy agreed with a grin.

BOY #1 [Jimmy]: “Everywhere else?”

“Yes Sir, even on our booty-butts.” Jamie teased which was followed by expected snickers from the guys. They had been asking questions about their ‘booty butts’ every day and this was a topic they never seemed to tire of.

BOY #1 [Jimmy]: “Did you rub lotion on your booty butts today?” Jimmy was enthused.

“No Sir, my son forgot to let us have any.” Wendy admitted the truth.

BOY #1 [Jimmy]: “Oh? Why don’t you just go back in and get it?”

“Well it’s still morning and a little cloudy, we should be fine Sir. Thank you for your concern about our booty butts.”

Every mention of the silly phrase made them explode with snot-laden laughter.

BOY #2: “Can’t you put your hands down?”

“No Sir, if we could, we would and then we would not get an all-over tan.” Jamie made it sound like being a bronzed sun-kissed goddess was her primary goal and she would do anything to have the ideal tan, even the most obscene stance in her backyard.

They began to pelt the girls with tiny pebbles. There wasn’t anything they could do about it, so they stood there and pretended it was raining. “Oh look, where did these hail stones come from, Jamie?” Wendy asked as if she was falling for their ruse.

“Are you going to the pool party later today, Sir?” Wendy asked when they were slowing down tossing the tiny stones over the fence. They were standing only a few feet from the fence where the boys customarily stood. This spot hadn’t been chosen by accident but rather to give them the maximum view of the girls who had long since given up any pretense of lying on lawn chairs.

BOY #1 [Jimmy]:  “Not sure”

“We’d like to meet you and your friends.” Jamie smiled in a friendly way as she said that out loud as if speaking to the open sky.

BOY #1 [Jimmy]: “Oh no, no.” Jimmy and his friends began to titter and laugh and jeer each other about how shy they are.

“Come on, you’ve seen us, we just want to see you.” Wendy had to admit she really did wonder what they looked like and how old they were.

The more forward they became with the boys the more they sort of retreated. That wasn’t such a bad thing for Wendy and Jamie because they also stopped raining pebbles down on the girls’ heads when they turtled up about talking. “Okay, we won’t beg you. My husband and son just wanted us to extend and offer to meet at the pool today. That is all.”

BOY #1 [Jimmy]: “Are you going to swim naked?” Jimmy giggled with his question.

“Hopefully we’ll have on bathing suits, but they probably won’t hide much, Sir.” Wendy admitted.

BOY #1 [Jimmy]: “That is a good thing.”

Wendy wasn’t sure if he meant it was good they wouldn’t be naked, or good they would be revealing a lot in whatever they wore. She didn’t have a chance to ask because the glass door slid upon and Roscoe barked to signal that Chris was coming outside to check on them.

He usually told them to come inside and they started to hobble towards him. “Did I tell you to come inside? Why are you anticipating me?” Chris asked uncomfortably as they froze in place mid-step to the tittering sounds of the pooper snoopers. They knew Chris was somehow the boss of the girls but not exactly why.

“Are the Pooper Snoopers out there?” Chris asked in a half yell.

The boys giggled “Pooper Snoopers? Why do you call us that?”

“Yes Sir, they are out here with us, but they don’t want to go to the pool party.” Wendy answered her son first. Then she told them, “Because you are always snooping around, and I don’t know all of your names, Sir.”

They giggled more and one of them asked, “Does that mean we smell poop?” and another asked “Out of your booty-butts?”

Wendy smiled and explained “No, nothing like that. It just rhymed, it was something silly. I am sorry if it offended you.” She turned to face the rear fence, her bare tits jiggling in the morning breeze.

The boys said nothing as Chris walked over to the fence. Wendy and Jamie assumed they were getting nervous as Chris looked kind of intimidating in how he stalked across the yard. “Do your parents know you are peeping on my mom and sister?” He said very gruffly.

There was silence and Jimmy answered “No, they don’t, Sir.” as if he were afraid.

“Okay, your secret is safe with me then.” Chris tried to sound serious but to Wendy and Jamie it was obvious he was just playing with them. “Have my sister and mom been bugging you guys out here?”

BOY #1 [Jimmy]:   “Not really”

Wendy almost laughed out loud at his answer that they were the ones bugging them. She managed to keep herself under check and only smile a little at her daughter.

“Okay, you guys let me know if they give you a hard time or anything. They tell you they are trying to learn better manners?”

BOY #1 [Jimmy]:  “I think so.”

“We did tell you, Sir.” Jamie said as she stood frozen in the nude in a half-hobbled step towards her house. “We have to be nice, and polite, and kind. We’ve asked my Brother and Dad to make sure we don’t act like bitches towards anyone from now on!” Jamie distinctly remembered having this conversation with them in the past but the boys may have forgotten.

BOY #1 [Jimmy]:  “Oh yeah, and he can spank you on the booty-butt?”

“Well, isn’t that what parents do to an insolent child, Sir?” Wendy asked him rhetorically

BOY #1 [Jimmy]:  “Insolent?” he didn’t know the word’s meaning.

“Naughty, when we are naughty we need reminders to be good.”

There was a pregnant pause as if they were thinking about that.

BOY #1 [Jimmy]: “Sometimes when it is raining hail on you, that is us throwing stones.” he admitted as if this was a big mystery to them.

Wendy wasn’t sure why he had chosen that moment to mention it, but she added “I know Jimmy, it’s okay.”

BOY #1 [Jimmy]: “Does that make me insulin?”

“It’s naughty of you to throw stones at girls, but since we are even bigger brats, it’s okay if it’s us.” Wendy admitted to him. The pebbles hadn’t really hurt her and she wasn’t in any real danger from them other than maybe a stray one hitting her in the eye. They had just been damned annoying to be constantly pelted with them.

They seemed to confer between themselves for a few more minutes “What did you do worser than throwing hail stones on girls?” one of the ones who seldom spoke asked.

“I disrespected my brother and father, and I made them run doing all of my errands, and I was really mean to them.” Jamie answered.

“What else did ya do, Sis?” Chris chided his sister to elaborate.

She gave him back a look that implied sarcastically ‘How thoughtful of you, I’d be delighted to go over my shortcomings’ all in one lemony smirk. “I was self-centered and acted like my shit doesn’t stink, and focused only on things I wanted to do instead of getting to know my family better, Sir.” She answered more for Chris than for the pooper snooper boys.

They were already “oooohing” that she said a bad word. “You said Shit, that’s a bad word!!!”

“But, it’s the most appropriate one, Sir. I acted like it doesn’t stink and it does, just like everyone else’s.”

BOY #1 [Jimmy]:  “Not like Gary’s!!” the boys all laughed at whoever Gary was and his apparently stinky shits.

When they quieted down it seemed that Chris had his fun, and was telling the girls they could go inside now.

BOY #2 :  “Wait, they said a bad word.” He called out to them as the girls started shuffling towards their screen door.

Chris turned around to face the rear fence with an eye cocked like “So?”

BOY #1 [Jimmy]:  “Well you said you punish them if they do bad.”

BOY #2 :  “ON the Booty Butts!!” the second kid added quickly which caused explosive laughter on that side of the fence and a little with Chris.

“I understand perfectly, little man.” Chris looked back at his sister. “Let’s go back over to the fence where your rakes are, since I can’t wash your mouth out with soap here. You can apologize and get your spanking.”

Jamie wanted to protest, because she was the one who used euphemisms and had been the last person to cuss until it had been a requirement.  Chris winked at her to let her know to roll with it and said “Mom, did you say it too?”

Wendy had picked up on Chris’s signals and answered “I never said Shit, Sir. I was very good today.” Wendy didn't want to get in trouble, but she could see that Chris wanted her to play along. She blithely acted as if she hadn't intended to say the very word that her daughter was getting in trouble for.

“You just said it right now though.” Chris smiled and the boys, as juvenile as they were, laughed at Wendy's “accidental” faux pas.

They laughed so hard while he backed his mother and sister’s asses up to the fence and bent them over, that they almost hurt themselves. Chris even played Bongo’s for a little while on the four bare cheeks presented to him while he slapped their asses. He wasn’t doing it very hard, at least compared to some of the over the knee spankings they received earlier, but it seemed to be amusing the boys and Chris. Chris likened the boys to a cross between Dennis the Menace and “Wilson” from Tool Time, the neighbor who was always lurking but you never see his face.

Wendy liked that metaphor, ‘The mischievous neighbors that she never saw’. She quickly erased the other one she had been building in her mind of Statler and Waldorf from the muppets up in the balcony complaining. This one was much more apt to her encounters with them. She was impressed now that she was listening to her son (and he was talking more) that he often made so much sense and cut right to the heart of the matter.

Chris had his mother and sister shake their titties vigorously as he was finishing up. “See, your Milkshake really DOES bring all the boys to the yard!.” Wendy didn't get his inside joke and neither did the boys, but to Chris it was hilarious, the girls were shaking their 'milkshakers'.  “Damn Right, I could teach you, but I'd have to charge!” he  stopped singing when he heard Roscoe Barking.

Bill abruptly jerked the patio door open and took one look at the spectacle before saying, “We don’t have time for this shit, get your fat asses dressed so we can get to the god damned pet store!” which sent a whole new wave of “Ooohs!!!” through the kids and opened up a lot more questions that Wendy, Chris and Jamie didn’t stick around for. He hustled the women inside with just a wave and a “See ya later!” as he heard them call for Bill to get a whooping as well.

When Chris slammed the patio door closed on the hornet's nest they had stirred up in the Pooper Snoopers the three of them all stood laughing at their shared joke while Bill just stared at them impatiently.

“You’ve got perfect timing, Dad.” Chris smirked as he slapped his mother on the ass.

The Family Feud III

Chapter Thirty-Six
“How much is that doggie in the window?”

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 39
Get out of jail cards: 1
WHORE: 2,3,1,0,0
JAMIE: 47
Get out of jail cards: 1
WHORE: 4,3,1,0,0

If the world was perfect, it wouldn't be.

Yogi Berra

It was a sunny Saturday afternoon. The kind families look forward to for picnicking, boating and backyard barbeques.

The Taylor family pulled into the Pet-smart parking lot. The Taylor men seated comfortably in the front of Bill’s truck and the Taylor women on all fours in the back. Bill and Chris had chosen outfits suitable to display their sluts, short skirts and half-shirts with high heels.

“Sorry to interrupt your conversation back here, did you want me to wait until you finish?” Bill asked mockingly as he opened the gate to the back of his truck to let the girls out.

“No Sir, Sorry” Wendy and Jamie had been having one of their long introspective mother-daughter conversations. They quickly cut it short and followed Bill and Chris into the pet store.

Bill had come to the closest Petsmart, which just so happened to be in the shopping center closest to their home.

“Oh look honey, the Olive Garden.” Bill said patronizing his wife as he pointed out the restaurant she had dinner at the night before.

“Yes Sir, it is” Wendy wasn’t sure how to respond to her husband’s mocking, but in retrospect her answer sounded a little passive aggressive and implied “So what?”

She steeled herself for the slap to the ass that never came. Bill was in a grand mood today and nothing was getting him down. He still had at least a week of training his wife and daughter and things had progressed better than he could have anticipated. He had the little twat Cathy Griffin out of his hair and later today he would be showing off his beauties at the pool party.

He hadn’t gotten anything directly out of ‘date night’ and he didn’t get a thrill out of what Jamie did at the football game last night. He was determined today would be HIS day.

He had set up an all new custom gaming rig with a super-fast wireless router and he even had an iPAD. He wasn’t sure what he’d do with it, but it was his now and he’d probably play with it after he bored of playing with his wife and daughter. Which as it stood right now, they were still his favorite toys of all!

The Petsmart sells all sorts of supplies for fish, birds, dogs, cats, you name it. It is half the size of any grocery store and bright and cheerful employees are always ready to ask you if you needed help. It was just the perfect place to start out the morning’s humiliations.

“Ask that woman where the dog cages are, Cow Tits.” Bill knew the dog cages were probably in the area marked “Dog Cages” in the very back but he wanted to let his wife know that was one of the requirements.

Wendy complied and the store employee barely gave her a backwards glance at how she was dressed. She informed her where the dog cages were and went about her duties. The pudgy woman had to be in her early fifties with short dark hair in the customary blue smock that all Pet-smart employees were issued.

Bill felt a little denied by the lack of shock from the employee. He wanted an experience funnier, and more interesting like he had at the Best Buy when the girls were dancing to X-box Kinect and flashing shots on digital cameras under their skirts.

“Ask her if she can help us with the cages.” Bill instructed his wife and the employee followed them to the back wall where all manner of cages were.

“Hypothetically, What size cage would you say could fit two people?” Bill asked the employee.

She looked at him strangely and said, “Two people or two dogs?”

“Let’s say they are both, people and dogs.” Bill smirked at his inside joke as he looked directly at his wife.

“The biggest CRATE we have is 52’ inches, Sir.” The employee said with emphasis that they were called ‘crates’ instead of cages.

“Wow, where is Buford when I need him?” Bill asked rhetorically. “Anything else you can tell me about the crate?”

The employee didn’t seem to understand him. She shifted uncomfortably and shrugged as if waiting for a more specific question. She had obviously perfected the ideal balance between showing the least amount of interest while still appearing moderately helpful to the customer long ago as she demonstrated her mastery of that expression now.

“Okay, whatever, thanks.” Bill abruptly dismissed the employee and told his wife to pull down one of the 52 inch cages.

“Do you think you and your whore daughter can fit into one, or should I buy two to be on the safe side?” Bill asked her.

Wendy had the perfect opportunity to bring up checking to make sure the credit card had enough available balance after his recent shopping sprees in this question. She swallowed uneasily and said, “I think we could probably fit, Sir?” instead.

“Do we need the kind that has a padlock on it, so we can crate them when we leave the house?” Chris smirked.

“You know that’s not a half bad idea. We could leave newspaper down for them. I don’t think they sell cages with locks on them though. Dogs don’t generally lift the handles off their cage.”

“Well, Lassie might have.” Chris joked before adding “Is this in case Jamie gets suspended?”

“No, actually I have been planning to come here to get some things before you guys came up with your cunt stunt last night. I did a little checking and a lot of rubber chew toys, dog bowls, leashes and cages are much cheaper here than they would be at the adult store.”

“That was pretty fun going there last night. We should go back again.” Chris smiled while holding a conversation with his father that completely ignored the girls.

“Yeah, I was thinking a Taylor Family movie night next week.” Bill put his hands on his hips and looked at his wife struggling to hold the massive box the dog crate came in. “Would you like an opportunity to earn your stars and letters next week?”

“Yes Sir, an opportunity every day.” Wendy wasn’t kidding. The sooner she dug in and completed the agreement, the sooner the ordeal would be over.

“What about right now, can you think of a good dare for you and Ass Face to complete that is quick and might amuse me?”

Wendy preferred the guys coming up with their own dares. That way she was surprised and didn’t feel as culpable for what she was doing. She saw a sign, ‘Sign your disobedient dog up for discipline training - In-store sessions with just you, your dog, and the trainer.’. “You could sign us up for obedience training, Sir?” she guessed.

“Not a bad idea, not a bad idea.” Bill repeated as he rubbed his chin in thought. He didn’t see how her idea would work, but he decided it was best to look magnanimous as if considering it anyway. “Ass Face, what about you? Got anything? Remember we can reward you for being creative in ways you can amuse us.”

“It seemed like you were trying to make us look like sluts to that woman who was trying to help us. You could invite her back and we could ask her questions about the cage and dog treats. The goal would be to see who can ask the most daring questions without the woman actually leaving in disgust.” Jamie answered her father.

“Sort of like Jenga, except seeing who can stack the most humiliating answer on top of the last one. When the pile collapses you lose?” Chris was delighted by that idea.

Jamie smiled at her brother that he understood the game. “Yes, sort of like the way we’ve been doing for Mrs. Waxerman’s visits!”

Bill had never played Jenga but he had seen it on an episode of Friends or something. It is a party game where small wooden blocks are stacked up and a player takes one block from the bottom and places it precariously on the top. This is repeated until it falls over and someone yells “Jenga!”

Her father soberly reminded her. “And you’ll be doing humiliation Jenga when you visit her to mow her grass after we get home!!”

“Yes Sir” Jamie acknowledged him and looked at the floor. The game they played with Mrs. Waxerman also usually had painful consequences, like her patented Waxerman Tabasco Colonic ™. She wasn’t even sure she should be laughing at the reaction they got from the old woman. She seemed like a busy body gossip with a country upbringing who claimed to hate gossip but would sit right there and get you to tell her more. Her reactions had been hilarious but in the back of Jamie’s mind she felt a little guilty maybe they would give the old know-it-all a heart attack through shock.

“Your idea sounds fun… It sounds fun, but do you have something more cock sucky, as in showing your ass or licking some nuts?” Bill asked.

There weren’t any male employees on the floor and there were very few customers. It was still early morning and the store had only recently opened. “Unless they suck the dog’s nuts who are up for adoption, they’d have to lick ours.” Chris answered his father with amusement.

Chris’s off-color joke caused Jamie to wince and involuntarily do her ducklip response she is expressly forbidden to do. The lemony face she makes where she puckers her lips when she hears something weird or disgusting .

“Oh nice, Bestiality grosses you out, Sis?” Chris was pleased because he knew she was in for another punishment. The duck lip expression was specifically forbidden in the Taylor household.

“I am SO sorry, Sir!” Jamie was genuinely apologetic as she admitted, “You can’t turn on a computer without knowing about women with horses and stuff, but I mean that’s so extreme. I hope you were kidding, right?” Jamie was starting to have a mild panic attack as her mind raced ahead to the idea of what her Dad may want her to do next week if she has to live outside.

Bill chuckled, “Don’t panic sweet-meat. You don’t have to suck dog dicks in Petsmart.” He didn’t make any attempt to lower his voice, but there wasn’t anyone close by either. The aisles nearby were long storehouses of every kind of dog food, dog toy and dog chew known to man.

Jamie sighed an exasperated relief.

“You do however get an infraction for the duck lips. Now since we are at green alert in a public setting, I’ll have to check the old Taylor slide rule of what the appropriate punishment should be.” Bill pantomimed pressing buttons on an invisible handheld computer and said, “Ah, it says here that you will face away from me and get ten swats on your ass.”

Green alert was the families ‘natural’ state in the progression from yellow to red they were to become more discrete and circumspect about their protocol and discipline. Bill had made distinctions about public and private green alert

protocols, but having just introduced these new concepts he made sure to remind them at every opportunity what they meant. He felt the repetition would reinforce his structured discipline and he was right, it was working.

Bill waited for his daughter to react, which was apprehension but not complete dread. She accepted his decision without questioning it. He wondered how many other fathers of teenage girls could say the same with a sense of satisfaction.

“From both myself and your wonderful Brother who is taking time out of his day to make sure you have the supplies you need to be educated as a proper slut and productive member of society. So you will thank us afterwards.”

“Right here in the store, Sir?” Jamie was starting to look more suitably frightened. She wasn’t afraid of the twenty swats, but she was of being exposed and Bill would take that reaction.

“There isn’t anyone here, we are the only customers. You can take them now, or you can wait and I will administer them on your bare fat ass when that fellow, Brad is it? Brad Jenkins comes by.” Bill could tell by the surprised look on his daughter’s face that she was shocked he knew about her crush.

Jamie wasn’t sure what to say, she looked at her mom for guidance.

“Don’t look at that fat cow to tell you what to do. Don’t you think you should be punished when you make ugly faces that you were forbidden to make? How else will you learn?” Bill asked his daughter patiently.

“Yes Sir, I do. I just don’t want to go to jail.”

“You went topless in front of the entire high school last night; this is an empty store; what the hell is the difference?” Bill asked frustrated.

“It was dark and I had on latex paint, but I understand Sir.” She faced away from her father, lifted her skirt to bear her ass for whoever would punish her first. The girls were expected to ask for punishment when they are disobedient.  “Please punish me for making duck lips, in a way that will remind me not to keep making the same mistakes, Sir.”

Bill and Chris had not given the girls an opportunity to put on chastity belts this morning. They were still getting used to the new rules that had been laid down the night before. It had actually just slipped their mind until they loaded them into the truck.

Bill hadn’t completely changed inside of a week but he was getting better at adapting to things and planning ahead. He had decided in times when they have to wear bikinis, or it wouldn’t make sense for them to wear the chastity belts they would have certain protections that simulated what the chastity belt would provide. He wouldn’t finger his daughter or make her sit on a cucumber or anything like that.

However, he was fully intent on it if he offered her the chastity belt and she refused it. That had seemed like a good compromise to him as he evolved his rules.

Bill waited as Chris delivered ten firm ass-jiggling swats to his sister’s ass. She counted out every one of them and thanked him while she held her denim mini skirt up so her ass was a good target.  Chris delighted in her discomfort “Ah, I just love the change in the shades of the ass. It’s like the change of summer to fall, turning pink, orange and then beet red.”

When it was Bill’s turn he added, “Yellow or Purple works too.” as he laid ten swats into his daughter’s already reddened ass cheeks.

The woman who had helped them to the dog crates earlier surprised them by walking around the corner just as Bill was finishing. “Can I help you?” she said while implying quite the opposite.

“Can you teach my daughter not to make that duck lip expression?”

The sales woman smiled politely, but said nothing.

An awkward pause followed. The disaffected employee arched an eyebrow but failed to register shock or outrage. She stood there as if to imply, “You’ve had your fun, now go.”

Wendy was the first to break the silence. “I am sorry you had to see that, Ma’am. My husband had to discipline my daughter for inappropriate behavior.” She offered cautiously.

The heavy-set middle aged employee only shrugged passively, “If you’ve picked out the crate you want, do you want me to bring that to the cash register for you?” she said in an ambivalent tone like she could care less.

“No, but thank you for the kind offer, Ma’am. I think my husband and son may want to pick out some collars for us. Can you direct us to them?” Wendy answered by instinct.

The woman pointed to the collars which were only a few feet away from the girls as if that should have been obvious. The Dog aisle had been purposely placed in the center of the store and stocked with almost everything a pet owner could need.

Jamie assumed her mom was doing the humiliation Jenga game she had mentioned earlier. That would have shocked her a little if she hadn’t voluntarily set herself up to be punished in front of the Pooper Snooper boys earlier by playing along with Chris. She had said “Shit” which the boys expected them to be punished for, even though it wasn’t a word they would be punished for ordinarily, they were actually expected to say it.

“Do you think this pink collar would fit me, Sir?” Jamie played along too. She held up a much larger pink dog collar with rhinestones to her neck and turned to address her brother.

“Hmmm, do you think it would be comfortable if you are outside all day?” Chris answered with a smirk. He wasn’t sure what was going on but he liked it.

“Should it be comfortable, Sir?” Jamie asked him, before looking at the disinterested store associate and asking if she minded if she tried it on.

The associate shrugged and Jamie looked back at her father and Chris for permission to remove the nappy cat collar that she had worn since her education began. It had been through a lot of punishment with her and was already falling apart. She felt a strangeness as she unclicked the familiar neck ribbon and took it off, as if a weight had been lifted off of her but at the same time, a security blanket had been pulled from her.

She modeled the new thicker collar for her father and brother and they approved.

Wendy piped up less cautiously than before but still in a reserved manner “Would you like me to have a matching one, Sir?” she reached for another of the pink leather collars.

“I don’t know, do you think Jerry would like it?” Bill said without any reservation. The employee wasn’t reacting but she was getting off on the girl’s reactions and couldn’t hide her prideful smile.

“What about Steve, Sir?” Wendy said as she unclasped her own worn out collar and put on the thicker pink one.

“I thought I told you, but maybe you forgot. Jerry will be your handler from now on, Steve is out. I had a long conversation with him after he dropped you off for a date with his son. It seems you left without giving him a proper goodbye?”

Wendy remembered things a lot differently. Sheldon had led her away as Jerry began bickering with his wife. It was obvious to her that he had felt betrayed after putting all his life and love into his ex-wife and she was now with a guy he felt inadequate to compete with.

“I am so Sorry, Sir. That was completely thoughtless of me. I should have waited to thank Jerry properly. I am so glad I have you to remind me not to be so completely insensitive and uncaring about others.” Wendy’s unexpected playing along delighted both Bill and Chris. It came as a much bigger surprise when she turned to the sales associate and asked if she minded if her husband punished her, “If he doesn’t do it right now while it’s fresh on his mind, it may not sink in and I’ll keep making that same mistake, Ma’am”

The woman sighed and looked around – the store was empty of other customers and employees. “I don’t know”. Her answer was neither approving nor disapproving the request.

Wendy took that for a yes, and faced away from her husband while thanking her as if she had given permission to go ahead. She lifted her skirt and displayed her well striped and well-rounded ass for her son and Bill. “Please punish me for my thoughtlessness, Sir.”

Bill obliged cheerfully, as did Chris. They laid into Wendy’s ass much harder and with a much more satisfying slap than they had Jamie and she counted out each one as they did. Jamie made a polite apologetic face to the employee who remained with a disapproving but generally uncaring look.

“You are going to also ask Jerry to punish you first thing Monday morning, because it was him who you offended, do you understand?” Bill asked while pulling his wife’s hair for affect as she let her skirt drop.

“Yes Sir.”

“Do you people even have a Dog?” the employee asked skeptically.

“We have three house pets, the other one is Roscoe and he is in his dog house back home.” Bill explained.

“Sir, do you think that Dog house would be big enough for me?”

“Why, did you want to try one out here and see if we need a larger one?”

“Do we have time, Sir? I know you want to get us home so you can apply our corrections and then prepare us for the pool party?” Jamie’s answer made Bill and Chris’s smiles even wider. They looked at the employee and back at Jamie and nodded.

“Do you want me to join her, so she can see what it’s like with Roscoe in the dog house, Sir?” Wendy offered now sounding more playful.

Bill had yet to register that the girls were playing humiliation Jenga for his benefit, but he was already making a mental note that they were earning letters if not stars with their behavior. He pointed to the back wall where the prefabricated doghouses were stacked up and the girls sauntered over with the employee standing right behind them.

“Get in Mom, get comfortable. If you ever have a sick day, you can spend the afternoon with Roscoe too.”

Wendy smiled at her son and answered, “I don’t think your father is ever going to permit a sick day, he likes the change in attitude when I get home from work.” as she and her and daughter bent down on all fours to enter one of the display doghouses.

“Can you turn around in there?” Bill asked with his hands on his knees watching his two girls squirm around together inside the dog house.

“I think so, if Mom’s ass wasn’t so big!” Jamie’s toothy grin could be seen even in the dark recess of the back of the doghouse.

“Hey, that’s not nice! Ass Face.” Wendy gave her daughter a friendly slap as the two turned to poke their heads back out like a double-headed turtle emerging from its shell.

“I liked you better the other way, with your giant asses sticking out.” Chris fist bumped his dad before saying, “Hey mom, go fetch.” He threw a plastic rubber dog toy he had picked up in the aisle and his mom dutifully ran after it on all fours to get it with her teeth before bringing it back to him.

“Good, but slow.” He looked at the employee who was now raising her eyebrows. Her previous sullen expression being replaced by a mixture of “W”, “T” and “F” with emphasis on the “F”.

He patted his mom on the head as he threw the same toy a little bit harder for Jamie. She leapt out of the doghouse determined to one-up her mom in this friendly game of humiliation Jenga, bounding hand over foot on all fours towards the red rubber bone that went tumbling down the tiled store aisle.

The metaphorical Jenga board was wobbling and teetering to near collapse. They could all see the store employee had tolerated them with a look like, “You’d really discipline your wife and daughter in a pet store?” expression. She had run the “dis” gamut from disinterest, to disbelief, to disgust. She would soon be finding it “disturbing” and if there was a word for ‘dis-get-thrown-out-of-Petsmart-and-told-never-to-come-back’ they may have saw that too.

Chris was just asking the sales lady if he could make dog tags with ‘Ass Face’ and ‘Cow Tits’ and their address and phone number on them. “In case, they get lost someone might bring them home.” as he heard a noise. The electronic door to the store swished open and a small bell intoned that they could hear all the way in the back of the store because it was so quiet.

Jamie was bent on both knees with her mouth wide open playfully clutching at the rubber bone. It had been designed for snouted mouths not the petite and precious lips of a former high school cheerleader. She couldn’t quite get hold of it. She was turning her head to look back at her parents and brother and say “Gross, mom you got spit all over it” and ask permission to pick it up with her fingers when she heard the door swish open.

The dog aisle they were in just so happened to give a perfect view of who was walking in the store. That meant if they could see the door, whoever was at the door could see her. They would have a perfect opportunity to catch Jamie red-handed on all fours vainly attempting to pick up the rubber bone.

Jamie would have even continued with her game of fetch. It was a store in her neighborhood and it was likely someone she knew might even be the customer, but she was lost in the game. She was already embarrassing herself for this store clerk to amuse her dad and brother. She may as well add one more customer.

She had just managed after several attempts to get the red rubber dog bone in her mouth, but she let it fall out and clatter on the highly polished store floor when she realized who was walking in the store.

The Family Feud III

Chapter Thirty-Seven
Ezekial 4:15 ~ Jamie Really Steps In It

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 39
Get out of jail cards: 1
WHORE: 2,4,1,0,0
JAMIE: 47
Get out of jail cards: 1
WHORE: 4,4,1,0,0

“Good lord up above, and rest my soul. What are you doing, wicked child?” Mrs. Waxerman waggled a finger at Jamie. Jamie looked up to see her carrying a small package and restraining her little dog on its leash. Mr. Snips was straining in attempt to either get to Jamie or the rubber bone she had just dropped on the floor.

“Hello Ma’am” Jamie said with a stunned expression. She could feel the big smiles of Bill and Chris behind her back laughing at Jamie’s predicament. She remained on the floor on all fours looking up with her pretty baby blue eyes unsure what to say next.

It made perfect sense that Mrs. Waxerman would be at the store this morning. The Loop shopping center was nearby, and women her age tended to do their shopping early in the day. It also just seemed to be karma kicking Jamie in the ass once again.

“Jenga” Wendy whispered to herself as she sensed the humiliation tower collapsing.

“What manner of devious spectacle are you engaging in?” Victoria Waxerman acted as if she didn’t want to know, but her curiosity had been piqued, and that was written all over her face.

“I was just playing fetch, Ma’am” Jamie stood up, wiping her hands on her skirt.

“You know I am not one to gossip, but the rumors of your inappropriate and sinful behavior have been spreading all around the neighborhood. I don’t believe you should be cavorting in such an unlady-like manner on store floors.”

“Yes Ma’am” Jamie just agreed with the woman.

Bill made a ‘tsk’ sound as he approached Victoria. “I am so sorry about that, Ma’am. I just can’t take either of them anywhere without them showing their asses.” He held up his hands as if he was powerless to stop it.

“Please Mr. Taylor, call me Victoria. I know you are doing everything you can to make sure your daughter doesn’t turn out to be as licentious as your wife.” Victoria cast an accusing glance at Wendy but addressed her attention and respect towards Bill Taylor.

“I see you brought your dog.” Chris was feeling left out of the conversation.

Mrs. Waxerman had warmed up to him, but still treated him like he might be mentally slow. She gave him a warm smile (for her) and said, “Yes, Mr. Snips and I came to return this music box.”

She held up her package and turned her attention to the sales woman. “I purchased this music box on Tuesday, it was supposed to play ‘How much is that doggy in the window’ by Patti Page.”

“Doesn’t it?” The sales woman didn’t seemed to care whether it did or not, and her question seemed like a formality.

“No it most certainly does not!” She took it out of its package and opened it.

The music was tinny as she opened it. The singers voice was lovely like an old 1940s jingle she warbled to the tune of ‘How much is that Doggy in the Window’

Do you see that doggie in the shelter

the one with the take me home eyes

If you give him your love and attention

he will be your best friend for life

In each town and city across the nation,

there's so many dogs with no home

Hungry with no one to protect them

lost is this world all alone

Collies and beagles by the roadside

puppies and dogs in the street

Once they are rescued by a shelter

they'll finally get something to eat

Doggies and kitties who are homeless

with sad eyes and tails hanging down

Let's do what we can to show them kindness

and let them know that they've been found

She let it play almost all the way through while staring at the impassive stone faced sales clerk as if waiting for her to see why it should be obvious this music box was inappropriate. When the sales lady failed to register the level of disdain Mrs. Waxerman expected she explained, “Where is the ORIGINAL song by Mrs. Patti Page?”

“That is an updated version. It is because she doesn’t support puppy mills. She wants people to get their pets from animal shelters, where they are spayed or neutered.” The sales woman’s dead pan delivery mirrored her disinterest in explaining this.

“That is absolutely barbaric to butcher such a lovely song, and I do not see why she should change the words. Her song was perfect, do you have the original version?”

“No Ma’am, I don’t think so.” She replied while looking off in the distance.

“You don’t think so, or you know you do not?” Mrs. Waxerman brooked no tolerance of uncertainty. She wanted an answer.

“No, we do not.”  The sales lady sighed.

“Then I will have my money back this instant!” Mrs. Waxerman demanded but seemed to be waiting for the store clerk to offer some form of compensation so that it wouldn’t come to that. Instead, she simply agreed and ushered her to the cash register.

This left Mrs. Waxerman unsatisfied by the lack of response she was getting. “I shall tell my fellow pet owners about this!” She was hoping that would make the cashier reconsider and try to talk her into keeping the music box or offer her some consolation for her trouble.  The sales clerk failed to oblige and her silence implied “do what you want”.

The Taylors didn’t know this but Mrs. Waxerman had been coming into this store every Saturday morning since it opened with some complaint or exchange and the response was usually the same. Every now and then she had found a new manager she could bully and intimidate into giving her the attention and respect she craved, but usually the store clerks just honored the exchange and let her make her empty demands.

While she waited for her money, the Taylors stood behind her at the register to finish their purchases. Bill asked politely “You know it really is fortunate to have run into you here like this.”

That wasn’t something people usually said to Mrs. Waxerman unless it was sarcasm. She was pleasantly surprised as she turned to hear what Bill had to say. Mr. Snips seemed interested in Wendy’s leg and was straining on his leash to get to her to sniff, smell and possibly hump it. “You beastly little thing, get down!”

“Are you talking to Wendy or Mr. Snips?” Bill said slowly. He was deliberately trying to talk with a trace of a southern accent to sound more like the simple mountain man and patriarch of his family that Mrs. Waxerman painted him to be.

Victoria laughed by covering her mouth with hand and didn’t answer that question. She gazed at Wendy and then back at Bill.

“Well, I was going to send Jamie over to offer to mow your grass this morning. You could save me the trip and the gas if you would just take her with you.” Bill offered.

“I understand about gas prices. I do not drive, I never learned, but I understand that Obama has raised the gas prices again!”

Even Bill knew that the President didn’t set gas prices, and he had no special love for the President but he almost felt compelled to answer her question.  Instead, he said, “Well, I am just a simple man, I don’t know about that Ma’am”.

“Mister Taylor, I’d be delighted to do anything you asked of me. What time would you like her home?”

“You can keep her until 2pm, then we are going to the community pool party, you can bring her by there if you plan on attending?”

“I had not intended to come to the pool party. Children splashing and urinating in the pool, their parents drinking  alcohol and allowing such horseplay. It makes a mockery of the very concept of a wholesome family picnic.”

“I am sorry you feel that way, Ma’am”

“I volunteered to bring potato salad, and they told me that I could not participate in the planning committee! Can you believe their nerve? I’ve been involved in the homeowners association for over twenty years!”

Bill had to smirk when he realized it wasn’t that she didn’t like the event. It was that they refused to let her plan it and probably for good reason. She was irritating even on her best day and this wasn’t her best day. “I don’t understand why they don’t value your experience and wisdom, Ma’am”

She ignored his smirking and agreed with him. “I’ll bring her by the pool party and stay for just a moment.”

Bill knew that she would stay for a long time at the party instead and take notes on who was doing what and with whom so she could gossip about it.

“Now you make sure to trim all hedges, edge all sidewalks, rake and bag all leaves and do a professional job on the front lawn.” He informed Jamie without waiting or asking if she even knew how to ‘edge’. Instead, he just asked Mrs. Waxerman if she needed his lawn mower and trimmer.

“I certainly have everything one should have for appropriate lawn care, Mr. Taylor, thank you for asking.” She responded indignantly as if she were offended by the implication she didn’t have proper lawn tools. “Is she going to wear this inappropriate outfit?”

Mrs. Waxerman was just getting her refund at this point. She had insisted in paying by check which took much longer to process.

“Well, she’ll probably sweat and get that all dirty, and that is what she was going to wear to church tomorrow.”
Bill lied. The family hadn’t ever attended a church regularly - Funerals, Weddings and Easter (when Chris and Jamie were much younger).

“Bill Taylor, please tell me you are joking that she would set one foot in the house of the Lord dressed in such a provocative way that it might invite the ire of the almighty?”

“Yes Ma’am, I was joking. I am sorry about that. Actually, I was going to send her over in her swimsuit, so that she would be ready for the pool party. We’ve got some shopping to do. I guess I could drive it on over later.”

“Oh nonsense, I could drop by your house and pick it up. We’ll pass right by on the way to my home.”

“Jamie, you change right into the swimsuit, and listen to Mrs. Waxerman, make sure you don’t give her any backtalk or mischief?” Bill looked his daughter in the eyes and handed a key to Mrs. Waxerman.

“Won’t you need this key to get back into your house?”

“No, that is Wendy’s key. She won’t need it. You can give it back to us at the pool. I really can’t thank you enough for this.” He left Mrs. Waxerman feeling as if she had done him a favor, even though he was sending his daughter to mow her yard for free. She didn’t think to ask him why.

“Don’t you have something else you want to tell her, Sis?” Chris prodded his sister by poking her on the back of her skirt.

“Sir?” Jamie wasn’t sure what he meant.

“My sister is too embarrassed to admit this, but she has been eating mostly junk food and she has become constipated.” Chris said on behalf of his sister.

Mrs. Waxerman didn't seem surprised and for the first time the cashier actually cracked a smile.

“Why haven’t you given her an enema to clear it?” Mrs. Waxerman’s face echoed her disdain.

“We have but I don’t think we are mixing them right. I just thought I’d tell you, because Jamie may lie about it

when she gets there.”

The actual punishment had called for her to ask for an enema and tell Mrs. Waxerman that her father didn’t mix them correctly and beg her not to tell them. That would ensure she tells every juicy detail of it. Jamie wasn’t sure if

She was more disturbed they were discussing her fake irregularity or that Chris was changing the rules right in the middle. That didn’t sit very well with her.

She played along “I am sorry you had to hear about that, Ma’am” is all she said as she fluttered her eyes.

“Don’t make goo-goo eyes at me, young lady. You have no one to blame but your own diet of candy, macaroni and sugar frosted cereals. I suppose if you have any one else to blame it’s to your own mother for lacking in the ability to cook a proper meal! Now come on dear, the hedges won’t trim themselves!”

Mrs. Waxerman looked back at Wendy woefully as she led Jamie by the hand out of the store. Jamie made a friendly offer to hold Mr. Snip’s leash as they walked away. Bill and Chris smiled as they heard Mrs. Waxerman chew her out as they left.

Wendy sighed.

“We didn’t forget about you. I hope you are ready for the twelve ice cube challenge.” Bill laughed as he handed his credit card to the clerk to finish paying.

“Frosty butt.” Wendy consoled herself with a little gallows humor as she wondered what holes she is going to use after she fills her mouth with ice in the punishment that awaited her today.

“Dad, can we get the dog tags made?” Chris asked and his father said certainly. Wendy held her breath in anticipation, half expecting the charge to be declined but it wasn’t. She heaved a sigh of relief that maybe Bill had worked out the expenses and she was just being over controlling and so worrisome.

She reflected as she nodded to the cashier and waited for her to finish the dog tags about all the changes that had happened to her and her family.

Bill had been a high school football star who never went to college. He had been raised to believe the man is the bread winner and the king of his castle. He had that TV land fantasy of Leave it to Beaver about the man coming home with the brief case to the wife in the immaculate house with the white picket fence and the glass of lemonade waiting for him and his nuclear family in the suburbs.

He had become disenchanted and disillusioned with that fantasy in his twenties as he worked hard to put Wendy through college and help raise their toddlers at the time. They didn’t have time for vacations and honeymoons and ‘date nights’.  Time just flew by and those toddlers grew into kids and now into young adults right before their eyes.

Bill had lost his job and with it part of his manhood. He had become increasingly petty and small minded. He had been convinced nothing should be planned since ‘you can’t plan for everything’. He was getting more and more into computer games and online porn to escape his reality.  He had his little schemes to get rich like his craigslist ad for nude models and all of that had backfired on him which only made him feel more and more powerless.

He would engage in long detailed internet arguments on forums to take out his frustrations. Wendy even knew the name of his rival and arch nemesis ‘Graymalkin’, stemming from some dispute about how a particular high school football game that Bill had played in had gone down years ago.

Wendy had ignored those observations and instead picked up the slack. She had focused on her career and her looks, trying to exercise and stay fit for the both of them. Where Bill had lost his high school physique she had blossomed through constant exercise and with a little help from the surgeon’s scalpel.

In the process of ‘bringing home the bacon and frying it up in the pan’ like the commercial for the perfume Enjoli she had heard when she was just a teenager - the perfect mom in the perfect house with the perfect job, who never measured up to her own unrealistic expectations. She was not only competing with herself, but her neighbors, her co-workers and most of all with her older sister’s success.

She had thought she was helping by doing everything around the house. It turns out she had come to realize that she was making Bill feel even more helpless. She was empowering Chris to be lazy and be the fat lump people made him out to be. She was setting this unrealistic example of being the perfect woman to her daughter.

They had become four individuals living in the same house. Her son was lost in his nerdism and Jamie was over-achieving her way through school simply because she assumed that was expected of her. She hadn’t even wondered why she was so focused on cheerleading and school activities, because that is all there had been.

There hadn’t been family trips and family vacations. In the past week they had spent more time with each other as a family than they had in the last year combined she estimated. She would grant that it was cruel, sadistic, humiliating and degrading family time, and that made her laugh that once again she was trying to find the positive in everything, even this.

There was positive to find. Her husband had made some mistakes, he wasn’t perfect, but he had learned the value of planning and communicating. He had taken a leadership role in the family. He had become better at mastering his own petty insecurities and she was glad she was able to let him feel more like a man than he had felt in close to twenty years.

She had seen him get impatient with Buford when he came along last night. Bill was becoming the alpha male and his first reaction was he wanted the nuisance to buzz off. She remembered how even last night Bill had overcome his old habits and acted more confident in what he had in Wendy. When he did, it seemed the petty nuisances no longer bothered him. It was like seeing a child who used to insist their peas and carrots not touch on the plate finally realize that didn’t matter at all when he just smiled at Buford and clapped him on the back and welcomed his help.

She had expected Bill to get jealous about a lot of things. She thought he would not be able to stand the idea of her having sex, many times with guys with much larger cocks. He hadn’t shown anger or jealousy though. He might if he found out what she did in the book store last night, and she wondered if what she had done was a subconscious cry for him to notice and get jealous?

Wendy wondered if she was petty and selfish and just hadn’t realized so much of her imperfections until this had all begun. She felt like a mirror had been held up to her life and she was for the first time having a really good look. She did’t like what she saw.

She was glad she had begun to change. She had twice today, even asked for punishment that wasn’t due her just to amuse Bill and Chris and get Jamie out off the hook for having to do it alone. She had been spanked twice and the world hadn’t ended. She had a sore bottom but that was all temporary.

She realized worriedly, she overthinks, she tries to do things for others when maybe sometimes letting them fail will teach them more and motivate them more than doing it for them.

Wendy had noticed that when she was with others, she kept thinking about how Bill and Chris would do something. She wondered if that was because they did everything so much better or if she was just using them as a benchmark to compare everyone else to because it was how she learned things in the past week?

She had begun to accept her own sexuality and do things that were provocative and daring. She had never given herself permission to do these things because she had been raised to think good girls don’t do those things. She had instilled that same belief in Jamie in abundance.

Now she was accepting sexual orders, positions and pain like she could never have imagined. She was finding at times she was turned on by it, and that even when she wasn’t, it was toughening her up both mentally and physically. That gave her perspective to ignore the small stuff, and the petty nuisances, and survive things she thought she couldn’t until she did this training.

Wendy was about to take mental stock of all the ways Chris and Jamie had changed and evolved when she was shaken from her thoughts.

~Whack~ a great stinging sensation burst across her bare tits. She was already home naked in the backyard. Her mouth was stuffed with ice cubes and Chris was crimping the garden hose to make the water rain down on her head. Her entire body was soaking wet and covered in goose-bumps from the chill.

“Mom, you’ve got 4 ice cubes in, come on pick a hole, you’ve got eight more to go!” Wendy had been so lost in her thoughts, or perhaps she had blacked out the hour before she got home. She was already midway through serving out her correction and she had a choice to make. She couldn’t hold more than four ice cubes and her son and husband were waiting..

A Short Time Earlier….

Jamie had followed in silence behind Mrs. Waxerman as they walked home from the store. Jamie had a sinking feeling in the pit of her tummy about the afternoon. She didn’t mind the idea of yard work but she also knew that there was more to this than that.

“Do you know your bible verses, child?”

“No, I don’t think so Ma’am”

“What do you watch, the music television instead?” Victoria said the words as if they were acid on her tongue.

Jamie was behind Mrs. Waxerman so she had an opportunity to grimace at the idea of sitting around watching MTV. They hadn’t played a music video in over ten years. It was all jersey shore and reality programming. She decided to put herself into ‘white alert’ and play along.

White alert was her father's new term, that fell outside of the green, yellow and red signal he could give to show more discretion. It meant to see if you she could push Mrs. Waxerman's buttons by saying the most outrageous things as the family had stumbled upon the joy of winding her up in her last two visits. Her father valued her honesty but the Taylor's just played along with this game for Mrs. Waxerman's benefit and embellished each other’s fabrications.

“Yes Ma’am, I listen to the rock music.”

“Today you won’t! Today, you’ll learn the value of putting your effort into the soil and sewing what you reap. How do you like that?”

“Thank you, Ma’am” Jamie had a naturally effervescent manner about her, so it was not much of a stretch to act vivacious and perky. It was kind of like asking Michael Cera to play the role of an awkward teenager in a movie. It just came as second nature.

Victoria hadn’t expected such a respectful reply. She expected a bratty answer because she had nothing but contempt for Wendy and assumed Jamie was from the same seed that grew that apple tree. “I must say that I didn’t expect you to act like you appreciated what I want to teach you.”

There was a pause and Mrs. Waxerman added, “It just means you are much better at deception than I would have given you credit for. You pretend to be polite to my face so that I will offer you warm milk and cookies rather than make you fulfill your father’s offer?”

“No ma’am, it’s not like that. I am glad you have taken an interest in me.”

Mrs. Waxerman was skeptical. She had for a moment wanted to believe this was a nice, positive Christian girl but then she looked over her shoulder and saw the slutty attire and the pink punk rock collar she had on her neck.

“Why do you have to dress so outrageously?” she asked.

“My father and brother are trying to teach me a lesson about it. They actually picked this out, Ma’am.” Jamie was still trying to get her courage up to play along with the ‘white alert’. It had been a while since they had and it was so much easier when her mom was doing it with her and Bill and Chris were playing along. She felt like she was on pins and needles and being judged for every word and inflection in her speech.

“I see.” Mrs. Waxerman concluded, “It is like when my father caught one of my sisters smoking. She made her sit right there and smoke an entire carton! And do you know what she got from that?”

“Lung cancer, Ma’am?” Jamie had let the answer she was thinking slip from her tongue. She hadn’t intended to say that. She was going to say something more polite and safe, but she had said the first thing that came to her mind and it sounded sarcastic.

“Ah there it is, the real you. The bratty response I thought I would get. Yes, she did eventually get lung cancer, but that isn’t what I was trying to teach you. She was forced to smoke so many that she didn’t want one again.”

Jamie wanted desperately to ask if she had lung cancer, is it possible that the lesson didn’t take and she smoked anyway? She was able to resist the urge to argue with the bitter old lady and just pretended to agree with her. She couldn’t conceive of making a child sit down and smoke a carton of cigarettes to teach them anything, but then again her father was teaching her something through this and it was very unorthodox.

“My generation doesn’t really smoke very much, Ma’am.”  Jamie’s generation had so much anti-smoking propaganda that she truly would rather smoke a cock than a cigarette.

“I don’t know what your generation is doing, but with the short skirts and the rock and the roll, you aren’t doing yourselves any favors. I can tell you that.”

Mrs. Waxerman continued to berate Jamie and look into windows as she passed by houses. She seemed completely oblivious to how that may seem as she nosily peeked into open garages or shook her head as she glanced into windows. She’d make a comment about someone’s lawn being unkempt or their car being dirty.

If she passed a house where everything seemed perfect with how it looked she would say something about ‘They are going through a messy divorce’ or ‘His wife sees a psychiatrist three times a week!”. It wasn’t that Waxerman wanted to confide these things in Jamie, she was saying them out loud to herself.

When they arrived at the Taylor house, Mrs. Waxerman made a show of unlocking the door and hurrying Jamie inside. This gave Mrs. Waxerman plenty of time to poke around the house and shake her head at what she saw. She’d look under rugs and around the pantry to make a mental note of the things she found lacking.

Jamie dug through the cardboard box in the living room for a swimsuit. Bill had purchased about a half a dozen for his ‘modeling’ business several months ago. The models had been Jamie’s friends who were answering his craigslist ad to amuse Cathy Griffin and not for the paltry money her dad had been offering. She and her mother had inherited the swimsuits and worn them to do yard work.

Jamie stripped off her blouse and began to step out of her skirt when Mrs. Waxerman walked back out of the kitchen.

“Girl, have you no modesty at all? Why are you changing right in the living room?”

“It’s just you and I, Ma’am and you’ve seen me naked several times?” Jamie stood motionless as her bare breasts rose and fell with every breath she took.

“Yes, but the drapes are open.” Mrs. Waxerman countered.

“Only a dreadful gossip or peeping tom would be looking inside our windows. I don’t know anyone around here who would do that, Ma’am.” Jamie teased knowing full well that Mrs. Waxerman was quite guilty of doing that.

“Two piece or one piece, Ma’am?” Jamie asked as she dug through the halter-tops and skimpy dresses to find a bikini that would satisfy her father and Chris as well as Mrs. Waxerman.

“Most certainly a one piece!” Mrs. Waxerman said as if the choice were obvious.

Jamie’s eyes gleamed and she smiled as she pulled out a Lycra one piece string monokini. “I always had trouble picking a flattering Bikini, so my Dad and brother got us several to choose from.” That was half true. She did find it difficult to find a bikini that fit her properly and didn’t make her feel self-conscious before her training began. The bikinis were never intended for her though.

She pulled out a taffy blue microkini that was actually one of the most conservative bikinis in the box.  There was just enough fabric to cover the slit of her ass and her pussy lips and two long straps she wore like suspenders to barely cover her nipples. It was tight enough that her nipple and clit piercings bulged out obscenely.

“Where is the rest of it, girl?” Mrs. Waxerman noted with displeasure.

“This is all of it, what do you think?” She modeled it for Mrs. Waxerman daintily twirling.

“Have you not started to grow pubic hair yet, child?” Mrs. Waxerman asked very seriously, while staring at Jamie’s preening and prancing.

“Yes Ma’am, but I shave every day. It wouldn’t do for me to walk around in a suit like this with a big hairy patch at the crotch. I know better than to be that obscene, Ma’am.” Jamie was starting to channel her memory of how the last conversations with Victoria had gone at her house and was feeling more comfortable playing naïve but slutty.

“You’ve something else in that box?”

Jamie stifled the urge to ask ‘in my cunt?’ Her brother had called it a box more than once. She was feeling more playful and free about how shocking she could be, but she still hadn’t built up the courage for that one.

“I have a two piece I could wear, but you probably won’t like it, Ma’am.” Jamie stripped out of the two piece in seconds and hung it on the side of the cardboard box as she dug around naked at the front door for both halves of another bikini.

She pulled out a candy red two piece with a v-string bottom that plunged so low it left the upper part of her clit exposed. The top was little more than a string that tied around the chest with two small patches of material intended to cover the nipples very precariously.

“It isn’t that I won’t like it, I am trying to find something that won’t embarrass your father and brother when they are seen in public with you.” Mrs. Waxerman sounded frustrated as she looked at the girl’s lithe frame flitting in front of her. Jamie was tall and lean and had a washboard tummy with an angel’s face. “You have a body built for speed, young one. The problem is you keep driving it like that and you are going to crash.” There was a hint of jealousy in Mrs. Waxerman’s tone but it was mostly laced with scorn.

Jamie looked more naked with the suit on than without. Her nipple rings forced the cloth flaps of her top into a position that they didn’t cover even the pink unwrinkled nipples on her perky tits.

“My father and brother actually picked these out, Ma’am” She modeled the new suit and seeing disapproval dug around for another.

“Yes, but they spoil you and placate you. They give you what you are asking for and let you have your way because your mother wears suits like these.”

Jamie smiled at the realization Mrs. Waxerman knew that for certain because she had been spying on them.

“The rest are mostly see-through.” She held up one of the matching black fence net halter top and g- strings they bought the night before at the porn store. She explained that they let the sun through so you get an allover tan as if she was a blonde bimbo who didn’t understand that they also let people’s eye sight through.

“They are completely see through!” Mrs. Waxerman was visibly shaken that the webbing of the bikini top left the nipples fully visible.

“No Ma’am, there is a tiny Velcro piece that can be inserted. I just have to find it.” She bent over the box fully naked telling herself Mrs. Waxerman was secretly enjoying this, despite her consternation so she didn’t feel so guilty for being so shocking.

“I see that you have the same piercings your mother had when I was here earlier in the week.” Mrs. Waxerman folded her arms while holding Mr. Snips on his leash.

“Yes Ma’am, I got that at the county fair on Thursday night.” So much had happened since then, that it had become a part of her. The metal hoops were still holding her in a constant state of arousal and heightened senses but she had grown accustomed to them.

“Your mother’s influence on you is very strong.” Mrs. Waxerman said before dismissively adding, “Just put on the first one you tried on, but don’t think that I can keep the neighbors from finding out you cavort around like this. They’ll definitely talk about it.”

“I understand, Ma’am, thank you for trying to dispel the rumors about me.” She lied, knowing full well it was Mrs. Waxerman who spread them feverishly. She stepped into the one piece monokini and had it on over her shoulders.

“What is written on your backside?”

Jamie turned around and spread her cheeks “WHORE, Ma’am”

“Angels up in heaven! You engaged in prostitution with the Egyptians, your neighbors with large genitals, and aroused my anger with your increasing promiscuity ~Ezekiel 16:25-27! Is that permanent?” She quoted an obscure biblical scripture as if just saying it gave her the confidence to deal with this.

Jamie remembered bragging about what she’d say if Mrs. Waxerman asked her about the tattoo at the fair.

“I am the whore daughter, of a whore mother, and I was marked, as I will mark any daughters I bear, unless providence gives me a husband strong enough to save them of my wicked influence, I do declare.” She said in her sweet southern drawl Dixie Sinclair voice.

Mrs. Waxerman placed her hand upon her forehead as if to faint. She was speechless.

Jamie added “My mother got a matching one too. I can tell you hate it?” Jamie said with a smile as if she was oblivious to Mrs. Waxermans anguished writhing.

“"Ye shall not make any cuttings in your flesh for the dead, nor print or tattoo any marks upon you: I am the Lord. ~ Leviticus 19:28!" She shouted a bible verse at the girl.

“I was told it’s because we are whores, sort of like the Scarlet Letter. They marked her with an A for her wickedness.” Jamie was very familiar with that story, and it seemed as plausible an answer as any.

“I believe it is an abomination.”

Jamie smiled as she imagined Chris saying, “An Abottomination” or something about her reaction. She wished he was there right now to interject some levity. Mrs. Waxerman’s intensity was scaring her.

“Well, it is what my Dad and brother wanted, so I did it, I am sorry Ma’am if it offends you.” She apologized sweetly, no longer holding herself apart so Mrs. Waxerman could read the letter O in the WHORE. My Dad believes in five values, Work, Humility, Obedience, Respect and Enthusiasm and this was to teach me the acronym.”

Victoria lightened up at that answer. Jamie’s latest explanation was unexpected and acceptable to her. She quoted Colossians 3:20: "Children, obey your parents in all things: for this is well pleasing unto the Lord." And smiled.

“I thought it was something else, but I agree with your father’s wisdom. Hard work, humility, obedience, respect and enthusiasm are good values. I just wish they didn’t spell whore by coincidence.”

“It is no coincidence, Ma’am. I am being taught it is better to be industrious good little whores than to be self-absorbed bitches.  Can I show you the chart in the kitchen?”

Mrs. Waxerman made a show of indulgence as she followed Jamie. There was really nothing she would rather do on the planet than dig into the dirty details of the Taylor family, even if she didn’t say it.

“This chart shows my progress in the areas of each letter. I have to earn one from each letter in WHORE to earn a star. I can also earn about three stars a day, just by using HOPE, Ma’am”.

“Hope Miller? She is another of the neighborhood girls whose behavior is despicable. There was a loud party last night, and I have it on very good authority she was running around naked at all hours of the night at that loud party with a whole host of jezebels. I wouldn’t even be surprised if you were there!”

“Oh Ma’am, you wound me. Actually, I mean to say that HOPE stands for Humility, Obedience, Patience and Endurance. They are the corner stones of what my dad is teaching me.

Victoria wanted to go into more detail about rumors that she had hear about Hope Miller’s father and his infidelity but this was far more interesting to her.

“If I earn 100 stars, then my father believes I will have learned my lesson and no longer be such a brat. I am almost half way there!” Jamie pointed proudly to the 49 gold stars they had placed on the chart.

“I see your mother trails behind you even in this.” Mrs. Waxerman was ever the Debby Downer looking at the negative side.

“Yes Ma’am, but we are both trying and doing as much as we can to be good. If we don’t hurry, I may not finish your lawn in time.”

“We will go when I am good and ready, do not rush me.” Mrs. Waxerman was taking mental photographs of the chart and the kitchen. She noted it was very clean, much cleaner than it had been previously.  “Okay, I am ready to go.” She announced and Jamie followed still smirking.

“Would you like to take my father’s enema stand? He just bought it last night.” Jamie felt a lot more confident. Victoria had momentarily had the wind taken out of her sails trying to process everything she was seeing and hearing and it had made her seem less intimidating. She also knew she was getting an enema either way so she may as well seem happy about it.

“How obscene to cart such a device around the neighborhood.” Mrs. Waxerman was recharging her derision and she added, “I’ve an antique clyster syringe that has been in the family for years that will do just fine. I would have loaned it to your father, but I am afraid that Chris might break it. It is a precious family heirloom.”

“It sounds too good for my asshole, Ma’am?”

“Would you watch your mouth, young lady? You aren’t too old to have it washed out with soap and hot sauce.” Mrs. Waxerman was back at 100% disgust with lasers charged and ice daggers ready to be stared. “It may very well be too good for you, but it served the Waxerman clan for many years, it is a very healthy tool and not intended to be used for gratification. You are grinning now, because you look forward to it. Well, I will tell you I will give you a proper enema that you will respect and thank me for, but you won’t have that cat that ate the canary smile on your lips when you get it from me.”

“Yes Ma’am” Jamie wiped the smile off her face and quietly wondered if she had pushed a little too far. She wished her mom was there so she could follow her lead.

Mrs. Waxerman walked in front of Jamie refusing to look directly at her skimpy blue bikini, casting only occasional side long glances when a car or jogger passed and leered at Jamie.

“I suppose you like the attention that the young men are giving you?” Victoria asked when they were approaching her home.

“No Ma’am, I am not supposed to take pleasure in it. I am supposed to just accept it, and learn to be gracious about it. I cannot help that they look at me.” Jamie was walking without heels for the first time in a long time and her calf muscles ached as the sidewalk singed the bottom of her tender feet.

“John 2:16 tells us that for everything in the world--the cravings of sinful man, the lust of his eyes and the boasting of what he has and does--comes not from the Father but from the world. I suppose it is right of your father to prepare you for the sinful eyes of man, and have the wisdom to accept that which you cannot change.” Mrs. Waxerman’s biblical quote wasn’t a hissing barb of admonition like her earlier ones. She was more placid and accepting this time in her justification.

“I don’t really know a lot about the Bible, Ma’am.” Jamie wished she wouldn’t make her feel so guilty about what she was doing. She believed in God but she had not given any serious thought to it.

“I would expect you to know nothing of the scripture, because your jezebel mother has no use for it. She cannot teach what she does not know. Your father works so hard, that he hasn’t time to do the wife’s job and his own as head of the household and breadwinner.”

Jamie hadn’t the heart to break it to her that her father had been out of work for months. They were almost at Mrs. Waxerman’s house. She had felt virtually naked in the one piece string microkini, although by comparison to what she had on the night before it was comforting.

Victoria removed a clicker from her purse and opened her garage revealing all of her gardening implements neatly placed on shelves. Everything was hand powered and well maintained and it smelled of WD-40 and moth balls in her garage.  “Have you seen a push reel lawn mower before, Girl?”

“In old timey movies, Ma’am.” Jamie didn’t realize how stinging that must sound until after she said it. She made to apologize but Mrs. Waxerman hushed her knowingly.

“That’s alright; you don’t see these very often any longer. Just put it in front of you, keep your feet away from the blades and push and you should have the hang of it. The blades are very sharp so don’t touch them either.” Mrs. Waxerman introduced her to the garden shears and a hand edger that she could use to leave a perfect edge along her sidewalk and driveway where the grass meets the cement. Then she went inside to leave Jamie working in the hot sun.

It was already 11am at this point. Jamie tried to stay focused on her work, but she was wondering if her Mom was already home from shopping and undergoing her own punishment. She tried to mentally calculate how many ice cubes she could take in her mouth before she’d have to stick them in her ass. She wondered if she would dare to put one in her cunt. She had to get her mind off that mental image because the stimulation of the Lycra material clinging to her body and rubbing the piercings was already making her wet.

It was hot but with the breeze blowing through her hair she wasn’t very sweaty. She had only cut a small portion of the front and she was already wishing she had taken off her makeup. She didn’t want to come to Mrs. Waxerman’s door already, asking for something after just 10 minutes of cutting the grass so she soldiered on.

Twice the old man who lived next door came out to water his lawn and she waved at him both times. She pretended to naively have no idea he was out there to gawk. The first time he had a smile on his face and it had been a happy accident. Jamie pictured him saying to himself, “I better go back out there again!” as the nice old man pretended to be interested in watering his lawn.

She smiled at him to let him know with her body language it was okay to look. He didn’t say anything to her, and the more she acknowledged him the more shy he became. Jamie enjoyed the feeling of intimidating someone who had so many years on her. It was empowering to her.

She was athletic enough that pushing the mower through the grass wasn’t that difficult. She had to redo the same patch several times but she had never used a gas mower to have any idea what she was missing so she thought nothing of the toil.

Cars would slow down and wives would slap husbands on the shoulder, or teenagers would honk.Each time Jamie would just wave and smile like a foolish blonde slut who doesn’t realize she is a traffic hazard. It was not a busy road and no one got hurt, so she just grinned and got used to the gawking. She was thankful for a chance to warm up before the pool party. That would probably be far more intense and crowded.

She took satisfaction in finishing the front lawn before she started trimming the hedges. Her hands started to blister using the heavy wooden shears almost immediately. She broke a nail but soldiered on.

The old man neighbor was back again. This time he was emboldened to actually speak to Jamie. “You do windows too?”

“Windows Vista?” Jamie said absent-mindedly.

“No, not computers. I was joking. Never mind, it was foolish.” He started to walk away.

“Like a maid, you mean, Sir?”

“Yes!” he spun on his heel. He was wearing a yellow sweater and a white golf hat despite the fact that it was a hot day. He seemed kindly and very lonely. His false teeth didn’t set quite right in his mouth which gave the impression he had an oversized smile.

“I am just here to mow her lawn, trim the hedges, and edge, Sir.” Jamie stopped what she was doing.

“You aren’t wearing gloves?” The old man seemed surprised she would take on these chores without them.

“I am not wearing a lot of things, Sir.” Jamie said with more confidence than she thought she had about her situation.

“That is true.” The elderly gentleman thought for a moment. “How much is she paying you?”

“She isn’t Sir, my father sent me over here as a punishment.”

“Well, I’ve lived next to Victoria for going on seventeen years, and I can see why your father would see that as a punishment. If you’d like to make some extra money, I’ll pay you to mow my lawn. You can even use my riding mower.”

Jamie thought about his offer and gave him her brother’s cell phone number. “If you would call my brother Chris, and tell him you’d like me to mow your lawn, he can set it up, Sir!” She smiled sweetly.

“He is like a business manager, is he?”

“Something like that Sir. I better get back to work before Mrs. Waxerman comes out. Will you excuse me?”

“Oh yes, we wouldn’t want that.” He quietly excused himself mentally repeating the phone number he had just been given so he didn’t forget it. He felt energized like a high school kid who just got a first date and he was going to call once he got inside.

When Jamie finished the front lawn she knocked on Mrs. Waxerman’s front door and waited for her. She opened it cautiously and waited for Jamie to ask something.

“I’ve finished the front lawn, Ma’am.”

“Okay?” Mrs. Waxerman seemed to be perplexed why Jamie felt the need to share that with her.

“Did you not want to inspect my work to make sure it was acceptable?”

Victoria narrowed her eyes at Jamie and considered her for a long time. “I think sometimes you are taunting me, trying to pretend to be polite to butter me up. I do not yet know the wicked game you are playing, but I will indulge you.” There were times that she totally disbelieved this child and discounted everything she said as totally a fabrication bent on getting out of discipline – this was the first time she admitted that Jamie might be just pushing her buttons and trying to rile her up.

Jamie imagined the metaphorical humiliation Jenga tower she had been building with Mrs. Waxerman was starting to wobble, so she may have to reel in some of her responses and tone them down.

Waxerman walked out onto the lawn and looked for fault where she could find it. She pointed out mistakes that Jamie had made. Uneven gaps in the edging and stray patches of grass she had missed.

“These are very hasty., Do you not check your work first?”

Jamie realized she hadn’t and apologized again. “Shall I do the back now, Ma’am?”

“I suppose so, and then you’ll want me to clear your blockage?”

“My blockage, Ma’am?”

“Remedy your constipation. Do you not understand even the simplest of things dear girl?”

“Oh yes, thank you Ma’am. I’ve been gorging myself on cheez-whiz and crackers.” She said the line she was supposed to say exactly as it was written on her punishment card. Her brother had changed the script when he told Victoria about the Patented Waxerman Tabasco Colonic’s she’d been receiving at home not being strong enough, but she remained true to it in spirit.

“I’ll come knock when I’ve finished the backyard.”

“See that you are more mindful and I do not have to make so many corrections to your work. I could have done it myself in the time it took me to point out your mistakes.” She shut the door on Jamie’s face without another word bluntly ending the conversation. Jamie had only seen inside very briefly – noting the house being filled with alcoves filled with bric-a-brac and oddities.

Jamie could see shelves of old books and biblical scriptures on placards arranged all over the walls with old family photos.  She thought she saw

“Very well," he said, "I will let you bake your bread over cow manure instead of human excrement."

~Ezekial 4:15

On one of them, but decided that was too far out to actually be real. She had only had a moment to take a mental snapshot of the antiques and memories adorning the old woman’s house. She assumed she had read scripture wrong and smiled.

Jamie brought all the gardening tools into the fenced in backyard. The yard was as large as her own backyard and had very few trees and a single row of hedges along one side. It was completely private and surrounded by houses on all sides just like her own yard. She stepped out of her microkini and hung it on the fence as her punishment card had explicitly instructed her. She thought it may have even been in the spirit of the white alert to ask permission to disrobe before she worked in the backyard but she was a stickler for following rules and she would do her best to adhere to it. She was to wait until asked why she did that to explain herself.

As she exerted herself in the noonday sun, her heart raced and her pulse quickened while she mowed completely nude. The Lycra swimsuit had covered very little but having nothing on at all had an entirely different vibe to it.

There was this element of, ‘I hope I don’t get caught’ that she hadn’t had with the swimsuit. Her feet were also itching from the grass and her hands throbbing from the sheers.

Jamie was coated in an oily sheen of sweat now. It was sickly sweet to smell and she could smell it mixing with the juices rolling down her thigh. Her clit ring had been particularly tickling her with every-solid stamp of her foot to push the mower through the crabgrass that dominated the backyard.

She found her muscles more taut and that she was getting a good aerobic workout from the exertion.

When she finished mowing the lawn, she wiped her eyes with her sweaty arm. This only caused her already irritated eyes from the makeup to sting more. The no-see-em gnats had picked up on her smell and honed in around her face and she was brushing them away. She was feeling sticky and exhausted as she started edging. She was longing for an ice cold drink.

She pictured Mrs. Waxerman smiling with a big pitcher of delicious lemonade. It was not too tart and not too sweet and she could drink all she wanted of it. She was daydreaming about the approval of Mrs. Waxerman and quenching her thirst at the same time and it was taking her to a happy place.

BOY #1 [JIMMY]: “What ya doing?”

A very familiar voice was right behind her. She spun around to see where it was coming from.

The Pooper Snoopers were standing right behind her. They weren’t hiding behind a fence. They were also holding her bathing suit they had retrieved off the fence.

“Jimmy?”  She had expected them to be much smaller and younger. Jamie was 5’10 and they only stood a head shorter than her. The first thing she noticed after the boys big smiles was they all three had closely shaved buzzcuts.

They instantly reminded Jamie of the ‘Dewberry Boys’ from the movie ‘Because of Winn Dixie’. The rough and tumble country boys who chase down Opal the main character on their bikes and call her ‘bologna breath’ but in the end turn out to accept her as a friend.

“What are you doing here?” Jimmy was holding her bikini and grinning.

“I am mowing Mrs. Waxerman’s yard, Sir.” Jamie had found it easier to call them Sir when she didn’t see their goofy, immature expressions. The humiliation at having to address them as superiors had increased tremendously now that she finally met them.

“We normally mow Nah-nahs yard.”

Jamie assumed that Mrs. Waxerman was their grandmother. Jamie had thought such a bitter old woman was a spinster and lived alone. It made sense now that she thought about the Pooper Snooper boy’s behavior. They

always seemed a little odd, like they were out of the 1950s. Most kids were at home playing computer games or instant messaging, but they seemed to always be outside playing. It made sense to Jamie that her grandkids came across like they had that same traditional upbringing she did.

“I was sent over to do it as a punishment, Sir.” Jamie smiled without trying to cover herself. Her instincts told her to cover up, but they had spent hours watching her and her mom outside and there was nothing that she had on her body that they hadn’t seen. Jamie took a few deep breaths and tried to remain calm.

“For saying a dirty word?” Jimmy asked.

“No, you remember I was punished for that this morning. I was sent over here for other things I did wrong.” Jamie didn’t want to explain all the sordid details and reasons for her punishment to them. It wasn’t just because she was embarrassed of admitting the reasons, it was that she felt they may not understand.

“What other things did you do wrong?” A new voice emerged from the sliding glass door that opens into the backyard. It was Mrs. Waxerman and she looked particularly angry. “They harvest a field they do not own, and they glean in the vineyards of the wicked! Job 24:6” Mrs. Waxerman quoted the bible again before adding, “Were you being punished for exposing your obscene nakedness to the impressionable innocents?”

Mrs.Waxerman was frequently flabbergasted and inconsolable towards Jamie. This façade was punctuated with brief periods where she would try to reason with the girl. It seemed to Jamie as if Victoria longed for interaction and most of all the opportunity to show scorn. She was secretly getting off on lecturing Jamie whether she realized or would admit or not.

Waxerman was unyielding and intransigent with her beliefs about what was proper and right. In order to truly savor in that she had to have an example of someone who wasn’t living up to those standards for comparison and ridicule and the Taylors had been feeding her like a gourmet chef feeds a fat person. She might have realized they had been

pushing her buttons if she hadn’t wanted so badly for someone to push them this way deep down inside.

“No ma’am, my father knows they’ve been watching my mother and I sunbathe in the nude every day.” Taken by surprise, Jamie volunteered  her answer without thinking .

“You boys have been peeping on the Taylors?” Victoria became enraged at the thought of the boys of spying on another family. It never occurred to her it was her own stock and trade.

“Yes Ma’am, but we never went into their yard, no matter how many times they invited us.” One of the boys offered as an excuse.

“You tried to lure my young grandsons into your yard?” Mrs. Waxerman focused her vitriol back on Jamie.

“My father just told us to invite them over since they had been talking to us. My brother invited them to meet us at the pool party, Ma’am.” What Jamie said was all true and it eased Mrs. Waxerman’s concerns the way the explanation was phrased.

“We knew you didn’t want us to go to the pool party, so we didn’t agree though, Ma’am.”  Jimmy offered as a defense.

“The plan has been changed.” Mrs. Waxerman announced. “Jamie’s dear father wants me to drop her off at the Community Pool, so if you can refrain from rough housing you are allowed to attend.”

There was a loud cheering from the boys that they could attend the event. Jamie quickly learned their names were Jimmy, Gordon and Zeke. The one called Zeke was “Ezekial” to Mrs. Waxerman when he had broken rules.

“Now, can you tell me why you stand here completely naked in the backyard?”

“My father told me to take off the suit when I was working in the backyard so that I didn’t get it sweaty. I didn’t think anyone would see because the backyard is fenced in, Ma’am.” Jamie offered with a pouted lip as if to evoke sympathy.

It might have in others, but cynical Victoria Waxerman took her expression as a form of manipulation. “Did you stop to think I might have some prying eyes who should not be exposed to you in your nakedness?”

“I didn’t Ma’am, I thought you lived alone.” Jamie hadn’t intended that to sting in how she said it. She wanted to reel it back in even before the words left her tongue.

“You think I am an old Spinster who nobody loves, do you?” Mrs. Waxerman asked.

“I never said that, Ma’am.” Jamie swallowed.

“Yet, you thought it!” Mrs. Waxerman held up a finger like it was an exclamation point at the end of her sentence. “So what did you do to earn this punishment of having to come be neighborly to the old spinster, hmm?”

Jamie felt increasingly more vulnerable and this question made her heart palpitate. She didn’t want to play “White Alert” with Mrs. Waxerman. She didn’t want to say anything too disgusting in front of the Pooper Snooper Boys even though they had heard her and her mom say a few things that may have been racy she was all alone now. She was feeling guilty.

“Don’t lie, because I WILL be asking your father for the truth!” Mrs. Waxerman demanded turning the finger she held up to point at Jamie like a metaphorical hot poker.

“May I tell you in private, Ma’am?” Jamie felt ashamed of what she had to say in front of the boys.

“You may certainly not. You’ve already exposed my precious grandchildren to your private parts. Surely nothing you can say is more offensive than that. It will do them good to learn from your punishment what happens to loose girls who have no modesty!”

“I fell asleep in class.” Jamie’s answer made Mrs. Waxerman pause. It looked like she were about to say that the punishment may have been too hard for just that. We may never know since Jamie continued with the second offense. “Every day my brother gives me one chance to masturbate at school as long as it is photographed and documented. I was late sending those pictures to my father.”

Mrs. Waxerman looked disturbed. She was about to offer a scathing remark when Jamie continued with her explanation.

“That isn’t all – I also agreed to suck off the dicks of three boys at school in order to get my phone back without asking for permission from my brother or father.” Jamie had been able to admit this with a very brave face to her father and mother when she was reviewing her charges the day before. This time her teeth were chattering and she was shaking.

Victoria was surprisingly calm in the same way someone who is about to go on a shooting spree at the post office probably appears right before their frenetic violent outburst. “If I understand you, your brother limits you to playing with yourself once per day?”

“At school, Ma’am.” There were tittering snickers from the boys when Jamie said this.

“You then lost the phone your father allowed you to do this wicked deed of self-gratification with and the only way you felt you could get it back was to offer mouth-copulation to your fellow classmates?”

“Yes Ma’am, I know it sounds bad when you say it like that!” Jamie thought perhaps she had told the story a little wrong. She knew that her father wouldn’t want to be made to sound like the bad guy for forcing all of this on her.

She was trying to explain it in such a way that wasn’t quite honest and she was already regretting that approach since now her lies weren’t making sense to her.

They made sense to Mrs. Waxerman. “You are telling me your mother has corrupted you so wholly, that you would masturbate all the time at school and that to control your behavior your Father indulges by letting you do it once without punishment as long as you document for him that you were supervised?”

Jamie puckered her lips almost making the duck kissy-face that got her in trouble at Petsmart. She wanted to clarify that wasn’t quite right.

This was particularly amusing to the Pooper Snoopers. “You give us salt-peter and tell us we’ll burn as fornicators when you catch us masturbating, Nah-Nah! Her father lets her do it once every day as a freebie!?” Gordon asked as if he thought Jamie was getting a better deal than him.

“Quiet Gordon.” Mrs. Waxerman continued to speculate “And you would offer oral sexual gratification to boys to get whatever you want, as often as you could. Your father and brother knowing that you are beyond reprehension allow this if you get their permission first?” Mrs. Waxerman answered her own question. “As the Lord is my witness, they are far too lenient! Spare the rod and spoil the child ~ Proverbs 13-24. They should not allow you any masturbation time or any oral copulation!!”

Jamie was thinking on her feet. She was generally a very honest person and had playfully gone along with the family when Mrs. Waxerman visited in the past. The explanation that Mrs. Waxerman had developed in her own imagination sounded as good as any and didn’t make her father and brother sound like the bad guys.

“Yes, that is exactly it.” Jamie admitted as if there was nothing she could do about it with a c’est l’vie shrug of her shoulders she added, “I am a little cocksucker, and now you see why I didn’t want to tell you my punishment in front of the pooper snoopers, Ma’am?”

“The ‘pooper whats’?”

“Oh sorry, my mom called them the pooper snoopers, ‘cause for the longest time we only knew Jimmy’s name. I am only just learning the other two, Ma’am.”

Gordon and Zeke waved at Jamie when she mentioned them and she waved back sweetly. The fact that they had an old-fashioned, naïve quality to them only made Jamie more sensitive that maybe they really shouldn’t have heard all this. They seemed like such obedient kids who weren’t allowed to even go to the community pool party and were thankful to get to go that Jamie felt a tinge of guilt even if they were undressing her with their eyes (And she was already naked!).

“Do they look like they sniff poop?” Mrs. Waxerman pursing her lips into a new previously unseen look of contempt.

“No ma’am, I don’t think she meant it like that. I think it’s because it seemed like they were always outside, lurking around and snooping.”

“Eves dropping and snooping? How do you accuse anyone in my family of such a blatantly base form of gossip and scandal!”

“I didn’t mean offense, Ma’am. You asked me to explain the name we called them. It was never meant as an insult.” Jamie was once again on solid ground with the truth and it made her feel so much more at ease. She barely noticed the grinning faces of the boys leering at her nakedness.

“When your father sends you over here for punishment in the future, you are to inform him that I must be made aware and approve of any stipulations he has. There is to be no cavorting in my backyard without a stitch of clothing!” Mrs. Waxerman demanded before adding, “Unless I approve of it.”

Mrs. Waxerman’s face was a distilled mixture of disapproval and disappointment. Jamie managed to pick up on the last thing she just said that she wasn’t as mortified as she let on. This was that thing Mrs. Waxerman did where she acted like she was sick to her stomach to hear or see something, but dug herself in and continued to watch.

“Yes Ma’am, I am sorry about that.”

“What have you to be sorry about? If you spoke the truth and your punishment required you to disrobe without asking permission, in order that you not sully and sweat in your already too small swimsuit, then you’ve nothing to fear.”

Her punishment had explicitly stated that she do just that. Jamie was quite confident she would be vindicated.

“However, YOU can neither be half pregnant nor half-truthful. You either are telling the truth, or you are not. If you’ve misinformed me, I believe your father will make you repeat the punishment over once my grass grows out the proper way?”

Jamie remembered one other stipulation in her punishment. She was to tell Mrs. Waxerman that her father wasn’t administering the enema’s correctly after claiming to be constipated and begging for her to give her one ‘properly’. Then she was to beg Mrs. Waxerman not to tell her father which would ensure that Victoria would do just that.

So far Jamie had been making a mess of the ‘white alert’ she was supposed to be doing. This was the status her father gave a name to only the previous night - The “fun status”. The Taylor women were to behave as if they were wanton sluts in need of correction and guidance.

They had evolved into doing it in the previous two visits to their house and when she caught her dancing with her mother on the lawn in the sprinklers. Jamie had been more confident then because her mom had been doing it with her and her brother and dad coaxed her. At the pet store she had gotten into a game of one-upmanship with her mom when the competitive side of her came out. Her mom had voluntarily started the dare that her father hadn’t picked – humiliation Jenga and she had all this confidence.

For the last five minutes she had felt like her knees were knocking and her butterflies were crying to get out of her tummy in part because she felt so guilty finally seeing the pooper snoopers face to face. They had fresh innocent faces.

Their jeering and comments about getting caught playing with themselves made them seem a little more human and a little more fallible. She had also seen Mrs. Waxerman really did seem to enjoy it when she played the wanton slut even if she refused to admit it.  She decided to try and redeem herself by giving it the “old college try” and risk interpreting her punishment’s instructions even if it meant playing with the truth.

“You got me. I lied to get out of more punishment. Please don’t tell my father, Mrs. Waxerman?”

“Oh, it’s Mrs. Waxerman when you want something instead of just Ma’am?” Victoria sounded skeptical.

“Actually Ma’am, I am not supposed to become familiar and address my betters as peers unless explicitly instructed too. Please don’t tell my father I broke another rule, Ma’am?”  Jamie found it hard not to smile at her roleplaying. Her father might actually punish her, but she would tell him why she did this and hope he was genuinely amused.

Waxerman could huff and puff and intimidate the kindly old man who had offered Jamie money to mow his lawn. She could intimidate the home owners association. She could scare half the ‘desperate housewives’ that make up the clique in her neighborhood of women her mom’s age that she’d reveal what dirty little secrets they all kept. She could definitely keep the pooper snooper boys in line. She could even intimidate a store clerk or three.

However, Jamie was having a revelation that she should be playing things up even though Chris and Bill weren’t there to support her slut act. She really had very little left to lose anyway.

“You honestly expect me not to tell your father that you pranced around my yard naked to ‘sunbathe’ when you should be mowing my lawn and working hard while thinking about the very reason you are being punished so you can show some honest contrition?” Victoria said the term ‘sunbathe’ but implied ‘allegedly sunbathing.”

“It isn’t like you can punish me yourself, though!” Jamie dared. She liked the look on Mrs.Waxerman’s face of righteous indignation when she said that. She felt a little like Robin Hood standing up to the evil sheriff of Nottingham – well maybe Maid Marion. The Pooper Snoopers were her ‘merry men’ delighted and surprised to see anyone confront their “Nah-nah”.

“Well that could very well be. You aren’t my kin, and I’ve not the right to lay hands on you even if you are desperately deserving of an attitude correction, but I could call your father right now, young lady!”

“Alright, please don’t do that” She didn’t wait for Waxerman to try to call her bluff and make the call to her dad. Jamie wasn’t exactly going for the Oscar with her begging but she was doing a convincing job of pretending to be someone who was going back on her story. That was in part because she was making this up as she went and smiling at the freedom of playing the bad girl role. “My father said you can punish me, but no more than ten swats, and only on my...booty butt.”

When she said the ‘booty butt’ word there was instant recognition in Mrs. Waxerman’s eyes. This was obviously a term she had taught the boys because they used it frequently. It was also a term that never ceased to stop amusing them and they burst out in laughter.

“How do you know of that word?” Mrs. Waxerman’s eyes narrowed into a stare that seemed to burrow directly inside Jamie’s head.

“This morning when your grandchildren were watching my mother and I sunbathe….”

Mrs. Waxerman held up a hand, “Grandchildren? These are my nephews!” she replied indignantly. Victoria dressed old, she looked old, she acted old, she talked old, but she did not like to be considered old. That went hand in hand with the fact she was a rumor monger and a busy body to her core, but she loathed rumor mongers and busy bodies and refused to see herself as one.

“I am sorry Ma’am, I meant no disrespect, it’s just that you are in your golden years, and I assumed these would be your grandchildren - My bad.” Jamie felt a little satisfaction at delivering a stinger to Waxerman. She was ordinarily a good person who never said anything insulting but right now she was pretending to be a bad girl and having a little fun with it. She just wished her family was here to egg her on. She pictured Chris delivering an “Oh snap!!” and her mother glancing over at Jamie with her face in a silent ‘well done’ accolade for playing it to the hilt.

“Just continue with your lies and deceptions and dig your hole deeper, about my NEPHEWS acting as peeping toms? That is something they would surely know better than to engage in. The Waxermans would never involve themselves in such heinous and reprehensible activities; it is just not in our nature.”

Jamie stifled a belly laugh at the idea that Mrs. Waxerman wasn’t the head of all pooper snoopers herself. She continued her story where she left it off. “When my brother came to tell us our time was up, I believe I accidentally said Ass and..”

This time one of her merry men turned on her. Gordon interrupted ‘Nuh-nuh, liar, liar, liar, pants on fire!”

“What did I say then, Sir?” Jamie smiled sweetly, while baiting her trap.

“You were saying you was self-centered and acted like your s-word doesn’t stink, and only focused on yourself instead of your family!”

Jamie had gambled one of them would correct her. It was not a big gamble. She could have continued to embellish on the reason her brother had punished her. He had been doing it for the boy’s benefit anyway. They were encouraged to cuss because her Dad and Chris liked to make them say the most disgusting and perverted things.

They probably liked hearing it said in her sweet voice, like when Betty White does it on a skit in Saturday Night Live. It is just so difficult to picture someone so innocent doing something so naughty.

“Yes Sir, sorry I was trying to get away with saying Ass because that is only ten punishments, but as you saw my brother whipped both my mother and I for a while because after I said my shit doesn’t stink, she did too.”

The Merry men broke out into a chorus of, “Ooooh, you are gonna SO get it!!” when they heard her say the shit word again.

Mrs. Waxerman was livid. “In your own home, I have tolerated your filthy disgusting mouth. Yet, you come to my yard – my property and you show a complete lack of respect around my nephews.”

“I am sorry Ma’am, I meant to say..” Jamie was shushed with a wave of Mrs. Waxerman’s indignant hand.

“You meant to just repeat the same perfunctory swear word as if you own this property.”  Victoria wasn’t finished and Jamie felt a mixture of adrenalin born excitement race down her leg mixed with just a tinge of fear. “You think you are being clever, but you know the solemn book of Malachi 2:3 says “Behold, I will rebuke your offspring, and spread dung on your faces, the dung of your offerings, and you shall be taken away with it!”

Jamie was disturbed that the Bible had so many unusual references like this. She thought back to the placard she had seen for an instant in Mrs. Waxerman’s home about baking bread over cow dung. She had hoped she just read it wrong but now she assumed it may well be a theme of some kind.

“You’ve exposed my nephews for peeping toms with your words, but you also hung yourself by your own spear-point, because you’ve told me you don’t think your excretions stink?” Mrs. Waxerman didn’t wait for Jamie to clarify that she had misspoke and really meant that she was learning not to hold that belief any longer. Victoria was on a roll. “You think you are the queen here and you rule, don’t you?” She didn’t wait for an answer, before adding, “This is my land, Waxerman land, and you abide by Waxerman law when you are on it, do you not?”

“Yes Ma’am, Waxerman law.” Jamie was hoping she hadn’t just agreed to being hung as a witch or something. She would have laughed at the mental image popping in her head of Chris humming the dueling banjo song out of deliverance if she wasn’t starting to get genuinely intimidated.

“Then you will agree to submit to it, or get off my land right now? None of this, only ten swats on the booty butt. A trouble-maker like you is no stranger to punishment and consequence. You would shrug off a lesson such as that with a laugh, wouldn’t you?”

“Okay, you are right.”  Just as the dark cloud of intimidation had rolled into Jamie’s mind, now it departed leaving a silver lining. She was laughing on the inside at the idea of being called a trouble-maker. In her 16 years on the planet the word had not been used to describe her until just now. Granted, she had gone on the football field during half time in a chastity belt with latex paint, and she had masturbated with a banana and she had sucked seven cocks the day before this one, so maybe she was a little bit of a trouble maker. She smiled at that thought, feeling like she was shedding some of her preconceived notions of how she had to act, and was expected to act to be playful.

“I am right, what?”

“You are right, Ma’am.” Jamie corrected and added, “My father said you could spank me as much as needed, not just on the booty butt, but my tits, or cunt, basically anywhere except my face, Ma’am.”

There was a chorus of, “Oh no she didn’t!!!” as the boys reacted to the new cuss words and Jamie realized she had let those slip. She used to never cuss but now the words seemed so natural to describe her body.

“Did he say that I could have you cut a birch switch?”

“What is a birch switch, Ma’am?”

There was laughter from the boys because it was obvious to them what it was, since they had been on the receiving end of one several times.

“Oh don’t you boys laugh. You’ll be getting yours as well. I can see why the child is so poorly disciplined and out of control. You’ve never been introduced to a birch switch!” Waxerman pointed to one of the few trees in her backyards and told her she would be selecting an appropriate switch to use.

“Then once you’ve had the switch applied, and I’ve given you an attitude adjustment, I can give you the punishments your father might be too busy or too gentle to deliver to you, but you so desperately need! Your brother bless his soul, may be willing, but he may be too simple to know ways that can particularly keep womenfolk in line and make them more mindful of their manners! You’ll find I will be neither too kind, nor too simple.”

Jamie’s eyes grew wide at that last phrase. She had really stepped in it.

Not only in pushing Mrs. Waxerman’s buttons, but she had literally stepped into Mr. Snips dog doo. She felt the brown squishy clay-like dog poop squish all over the bottom of her bare feet and heard the boys’ laughter as they watched her do it.

The Family Feud III

Chapter Thirty-Eight
Waxerman’s Guide to Country Living

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 39
Get out of jail cards: 1
WHORE: 2,4,1,0,0
JAMIE: 47
Get out of jail cards: 1
WHORE: 4,4,1,0,0

Jamie was being shown by the Waxerman boys how to cut her own switch. “You don’t’ want to bring back something too flimsy, because she’ll just send you back to get a much bigger one.”

Jamie nodded at the fully clothed boy, who stilled hadn’t grown used to her nudity. “My eyes are up here, Jimmy.” She toyed with him as he turned pink. She got the general idea that he was trying to convey - Her dad and brother were that way. This entire exercise was a metaphor to cutting her own switch.

If she had half-heartedly gone through this correction and not riled up Mrs. Waxerman, they would be unsatisfied and just send her back to cut an even larger switch for herself and repeat the process over again.

“Sorry,” Jimmy was embarrassed he got caught staring. “It was better when we were behind the fence and you couldn’t see us watching.”

“We knew you were watching though, Jimmy.” She said to point out there was no material difference.

“Yeah, but you didn’t know what we was watching exactly.” Jimmy tried to defend his position as he pulled down a branch for himself with the knife they had been issued, before getting into argument with his brother ‘Hey I wanted that one.’

“No calls-ees”

“No, I called calls-ees before you called no-callsees”

Jamie was genuinely amused at how they bickered back and forth. It reminded her of when she was little and she used to talk like that to her brother before she got so involved in cheer. They had begun to do a little friendly banter back when she used to wake Chris up for school with a bucket of water and he had continued it now that the shoe was on the other foot for her. She liked it, it was a sign they may not always get along but that they loved one another. The rivalry was a way of saying, ‘I may not agree with you, but we are gonna work together.”

Jamie tried to stand on her tippy toes to reach a branch and pull it down to cut her own switch. She couldn’t quite reach so she hopped a few times until she caught it. When her head was above the fence line she thought she saw that kindly old neighbor who had asked her to mow his lawn in the backyard for a brief instant. She wondered if he had heard any of what had been said in Waxerman’s yard. She felt as embarrassed as she had just made Jimmy feel about staring at her tits. There was something about  the fact Mrs. Waxerman’s neighbor seemed like a such a nice guy, that it made her feel guilty about him discovering what a wicked thing it seemed she was doing.

It was very wicked. Here she was standing naked with boys much younger than her in the backyard discussing the switch they were all cutting so they could be punished. The boys didn’t seem to have any hard feelings right now about the fact that Jamie had tricked one of them into revealing they had been peeping on her and her mother. That could be because they were very good natured souls or because they just hadn’t had time to think about it.

They were treating her like a guest or a friend, although a very naked guest and friend. Gordon had reached out and touched her butt once while they were cutting the switch but it had been very innocent. He explained “Jimmy dared me too!” which was followed with “Did not” and a “Did too” before Jamie said it was okay and dismissed the tap.

They were just curious and it was just skin. It hadn’t bothered her.

“Do you think she’ll let me wipe off the Mr. Snip’s landmine I stepped in back there?” Jamie was talking about the dog shit she had accidentally put her foot in.

“I don’t think you oughta.” Zeke said. He seldom spoke, but when he did it was usually short and sweet.

Jamie made the “Ick” face and scrunched her nose while trying not to think about her muddy left foot.

“You’ve got ta trim off the little twigs and leaves.” Gordon demonstrated by whittling on his own switch.

“I see.” Jamie watched as she wondered if the little twigs would hurt more or less if they were left on. “Why doesn’t she just cut one switch and reuse it?”

“You’ll see.” They all said in unison.

The fact they seemed to be aware of something she wasn’t about this experience made her even more apprehensive.

When they each had their switch trimmed, the boys swished theirs in the air making a “Wushhing” sound that sounded absolutely frightful to Jamie. They made “Swizzzzz” sounds and held them like light saber swords. Jamie thought her brother would have got a kick out of that.

“You guys know star wars?” Jamie was pleasantly surprised.

“What do you think we are, morons? Of course we know of Star Wars!” One of them said followed by giving a mock battle cry of “Chewbacca!!” and making what sounded like machine gun fire with his mouth while holding his switch like a tommy gun and pointing it at his brother.

Jamie realized they looked like they came straight from an episode of Dennis the menace from the 1950s, but they obviously weren’t completely sheltered from all things pop culture. Even if there probably wasn’t anyone yelling “Chewbacca!” dramatically as they fired machine guns in Star Wars.

The boys went inside the house first. The house was ornate and a garish combination of many different styles. There was an element of civil war antebellum antiquity in most of the teakwood furniture, brocaded curtains and porcelain lamps.  It seemed like the furniture for a house twice this size had been moved into this one and everything seemed crowded and set so precariously that a sudden movement might send several things crashing down at once.

There was also what appeared to be a full catalog of all the American decorative items in the Finger Hut catalog circa 1988 - A whole shelf of sad clown figurines atop another shelf of decorative roosters that might be salt and pepper shakers and corn on the cob holders.

A plastic fish on the wall began to sing in a Jamaican style

Ooooh Ooooh Oooh Oooh

Don't worry, be happy

The land lord say your rent is late

He may have to litigate

Don't worry, be happy

Look at me I am happy

Don't worry, be happy

Here I give you my phone number

When you worry call me

It automatically turned on when it detected motion and amused the Waxerman boys, even though they must have seen it several times by now. Its batteries were dying because it started to slow down about the time it reached the second to last verse which only seemed to amuse them more as it sang in slow motion. They even sang along with it matching the pitch and speed of the fake mounted fish.

Jamie was still standing on the patio at the screen door. “Come in, Ma’am?”

“You’ll wait right there. I don’t want you stepping on my antique Persian rugs.” Mrs. Waxermen walked past several black and white photographs hung on the wall of what Jamie could only presume was the Waxerman clan from days of old.

“Yes Ma’am” She didn’t want to suggest that maybe she just wipe off her foot just yet.

“In a Waxerman household, we do not normally permit the boys to watch the punishment of girls, or vise verse. You’ve forced me to reconsider today.” Victoria was speaking directly to Jamie when she explained, “By exposing my nephews as filthy little perverted peeping toms, it seems only fair that you witness the punishment they will receive as they witness yours.”

“Ah, but!” Gordon offered a protest that was quickly silenced when informed that he would be going first.

“Your cousin Delilah has also been invited to observe - If we are going to permit an outsider to watch the boys get their cum-uppance, then it’s only fair that she witness this spectacle as well. My time on this earth won’t be forever and being able to administer fair discipline is something she should learn, given there are no Waxermen men to deliver a proper whooping.”

All three boys groaned as a smiling Delilah walked in. Raven haired, with freckles and a sassy smile, she couldn’t be more than a year or two younger than Jamie. She sashayed into the room and spoke in the fake southern accent Jamie had used back at the fair except hers was authentic. “Hey boys, I guess you were looking where you ought not a been looking?”

Then she considered Jamie for a country second before quoting “Job 24:10 - The poor must go about naked, without any clothing. They harvest food for others while they themselves are starving.” She stared at Jamie to imply this quote should mean something to her.

Mrs. Waxerman seemed impressed with the choice of scripture. It was quite clear she played favorites, and in her eyes Delilah did no wrong.

Introductions out of the way - it was time for the punishment to begin.

The three boys groaned after being instructed to drop their trousers. Jamie could only see their bare asses as they stood in their shirts with their pants around their ankles but she heard a shriek come from Mrs. Waxerman.

“What have I told you about THAT?” She pointed to Gordon’s crotch. Jamie could only assume he was hard. She had a flashback to her mother’s reaction about Chris’s hard-ons in the same way.

“I’ve got a good excuse. We have been around Jamie Taylor, Ma’am!” The way they said Ma’am was so natural and countrified, it hardly had the same ring of deference that Jamie used for it, but it seemed quite fitting in the vulnerable state the boys were in.

“That is true, but your back is to her and you are facing your cousin and me. So what does that say about you, Gordon Waxerman?”

“That I am a lustful fornicator who covets my neighbor, Ma’am?”  Gordon looked down in defeat.

“That is absolutely right. Now assume the position, while I test the rod.” Mrs. Waxerman made several swishes of the rod, flicking it with her wrists expertly to demonstrate torque and control and frighten the bejeezus out of Jamie.

“Gordon, you know that you are loved, but wickedness must never be tolerated in a godly household. You will hold still and accept your punishment properly, so as not to bring shame on yourself before your Cousin and this wicked sinner, Jamie Taylor?”

Jamie started to wonder if Mrs. Waxerman didn’t have a ‘white alert’ of her own. It would have been tremendous irony if just as she was saying shocking things to rile up Mrs. Waxerman; Victoria had been seeing how far they could take this ritual punishment before Jamie ran home crying and defeated.

The first strike of the birch switch drove Gordon forward and he howled in pain.

“In my day, we were birched properly with a stack of twigs! If you think this stings, you should try hazel wood!” She delivered another sturdy blow that caused the boy to yelp again.

This time he replied with a memorized biblical verse of his own through his tears. “I will go stripped and naked: I will make a wailing like the dragons, and mourning as the owls."

“Very Good Gordon, and what book of the lord is that from?” Another lash and he replied that he did not know.

“Anyone else know?” She whipped him as the others shouted Micah 1:8 to earn her admiration.

When he was done, he was ordered to stand in the corner and keep his hands “off his buttocks”.

Delilah had been sitting comfortably like a cat watching the spectacle play out, but keeping her gaze on Jamie’s fearful reaction. “The birch has to be fresh. Eventually they just lose their elasticity and snap. It has been a while since Nah-nah has had to whip these boys.” Her voice sounded cute and friendly like Daisy Duke with just a hint of Wednesday Addams thrown in for danger.

It was Jimmy’s turn now and he took his place on all fours with his elbows resting on the floor where Gordon had been.

"The LORD will smite thee with the botch of Egypt, and with the emerods, and with the scab, and with the itch, whereof thou canst not be healed!” Victoria lashed hard into the center of Jimmy’s ass crack on his delicate asshole bud and punctuated her second strike by saying,  “Deuteronomy 28:27” as she brought it down for another strike.

“Noooooooooooo” he howled.

“Don’t you touch yourself like a masturbater and a fornicator. You’ll be given salt-peter with Gordon after your time on the wall is up!” She delivered 8 more strokes to a tearful Jimmy who joined his brother with his nose in the corner facing the wall.

It was finally Zeke’s turn except Mrs. Waxerman called him “Ezekial”, which meant he should know he was definitely in trouble. The boy had seldom said anything and usually it was in a whisper. He was the one who

almost never talked at the fence.

“I would not expect you to peep, even on such wanton women who openly display themselves in such a manner, Ezekial, what do you have to say for yourself?”

She let him have a slap of the rod and he suddenly wanted to talk a great deal and loudly. He quoted the bible
“And the LORD said, Like as my servant Isaiah hath walked naked and barefoot three years for a sign and wonder upon Egypt and upon Ethiopia; So shall the king of Assyria lead away the Egyptian’s prisoners, and the Ethiopians captives, young and old, naked and barefoot, even with their buttocks uncovered, to the shame of Egypt." ~Isaiah 20:2-4” and in tears finished just as she laid out the tenth swipe on his delicate ass flesh.

“You may pull up your britches, after you’ve each taken your salt-peter.” Jamie noticed with disgust that it was administered in a waxy suppository in between their ass cheeks. Delilah’s face was giggling even if she wasn’t.

“It is time to deliver a fair punishment to the harlot in our midst.” Victoria announced as the boys buckled their jeans and limped away from the wall they had been facing.

Jamie considered briefly running for the gate and not looking back. She had been very stoic the past week and her father and brother had beaten her very hard mostly with blunt paddles and their hands. The new whips they had just bought at Buford’s porn store promised to be far more painful and she assumed she had been toughened up enough to survive ten strikes of the birch switch.

Mrs. Waxerman led everyone out into the center of the yard. “I will not invite this devil child into my home, not only because of the foul dung on her foot, but because she is loathsome and I fear she may corrupt my innocent Delilah as she has begun to tempt you boys.”

She directed Jamie to get on the ground on all fours to face her punishment. Jamie hadn’t quite grown used to the grass itch she got from her lawn when her brother made them roll around on the lawn but she had at least become aware that the sensation eventually fades. It did not shock her that as soon as she put her knees and sore palms, from all the hard work she had been doing, into the grass, the itch started to spread.

She could feel the direct sunlight on her back as she waited for the inevitable slice from the switch to fall.

“Yet she multiplied her whoredoms, in calling to remembrance the days of her youth, wherein she had played the harlot in the land of Egypt. For she doted upon their paramours; There she lusted after her lovers, whose genitals were like those of donkeys and whose emission was like that of horses. ~Ezekiel 23:20” Victoria had saved a particularly descriptive passage for this moment. Jamie wasn’t quite sure what was meant by it but she wondered, could that truly be in the Bible.

“Sunday school must have been an entirely different experience for you.” She quipped trying to interject a little gallows humor into the somber moment, a move that would have tickled Chris but only raised Mrs. Waxerman’s ire.

The birch rod went back and zigged then zagged its whirring song through the air as she wound up and delivered a strike directly to Jamie’s ass that was an insidious pain. It didn’t hurt at first, it seemed to blossom and ripple after a slight delay and start to sting.

“May I hold my ass cheeks apart, so that you may strike me with the scab, and with the itch, whereof thou canst not be healed, Ma’am?” Jamie was being defiant and clinging to the role she had begun to play, although the offer sounded very sincere.

“You’ll learn not to use words like that here!” Victoria sliced into her ass a second time with the rod driving Jamie forward chiding her for using the words ‘ass cheeks’.

“I am sorry, may I spread my booty butt, Ma’am!” Jamie held her breath and braced herself for a third strike in rhythm with the first two.

“You may.” Victoria’s response was unexpected.

Jamie had already begun to doubt that she could continue to play the role, but she was determined to give it that “old college try” and so she pulled her cheeks apart. The Waxerman boys stifled their obligatory giggle after being shushed by Victoria.

The fourth and fifth strike hit the mark perfectly dead center on her asshole but Jamie did not cry out.

“Do you wipe and keep this vessel clean?” Mrs. Waxerman had to explain when she got no response, “This booty butt.”

“I am not permitted toilet paper until I finish my education, Ma’am, but my mother and I shower every day.” She gasped. She had been holding her breath on each strike and found herself swallowing air in between strikes.

“Sometimes I think you say things just to get a rise out of me.” Mrs. Waxerman said skeptically as she delivered two more strikes but missing her mark each time. “You’ll be getting an enema after this, although I suspect I should have delivered it before we began the punishment. Your dainty fortitude hasn’t prepared you for this and your bowels seem to be slipping.” She made a tsk tsk sound as she made a mental note to herself.

“You boys are permitted to get closer and watch. I will not punish you. You’ve had your salt-peter so your mind is not on the lustful juices that she excretes. It is never too soon to learn how to give proper discipline for when you have families of your own. You see how she shakes and shimmies and I’ve missed the last two times because of her obscene gyrations at the last minute spoiling my aim?”

Jamie was panting rapidly when Victoria delivered three rapid fire blows directly on target and continued to rain down strikes until she was driving Jamie through the yard on all fours. She was following behind her as Jamie padded through the grass. Do you see how I take control and can steer her?”

“Just like a real mule!” Gordon sounded excited.

“Yes, not unlike a stubborn mule, who wants to try next?”

Jamie looked over her shoulder in disbelief as the boys were jumping up and down with excitement “me, me, me!!”

“Did you have something to say, Jamie Taylor?” Mrs. Waxerman stopped her lecture to address Jamie when she caught her turning around to look at them. “Maybe you have a particular bible verse you’d like to recite like a good Christian child would know?”

“No Ma’am, I only know the ones I heard you say today.”

Jamie hadn’t meant that the way Victoria took it. “The bible verses we say aren’t what good Christian children know?” This time there were several switches on her right and left ass cheek to punctuate the question. “The bible contains references to many things, it is the word of God and it is perfect and complete. Do you agree?”

“Yes, Ma’am. I agree”

“That is some progress!” Mrs. Waxerman sounded pleased with herself as she told Jimmy he could use the rod he cut for himself on Jamie. “I hope you picked a good rod.”

“I did, Ma’am!” Jamie thought she may even be bleeding when the boy finished with her ass. He had struck her on the cheeks and in between her pink meat several times. Victoria had coached him about how to walk her around the yard and lead her in the direction he wanted her to go with his strikes.

“Who will go next?”

“Ma’am please, a rest to catch….my breath?” Jamie was on heightened sensory overload. The pain had begun to blur in her mind and one strike led into the next like a bad dream.

“Nonsense? A fit cheerleader like you! You had the energy to provide oral copulation to how many boys yesterday?”

“Seven Ma’am”

“I thought you said three?”

“That was just at school, the others my father knew about.”

“Withhold not correction from the child: for if thou beatest her with the rod, she shall not die. Proverbs 23:1" Victoria announced and gave Victor his turn to go with Jamie.

“Please Ma’am, no more on the booty butt.” Jamie was heaving and sobbing, all her muscles were tight from the pain.

“Where would you suggest the rod be administered?” Waxerman asked with arms folded. The switch she had been using was now in tatters and bent to the point of ruin.

“Anywhere else, my tits?”

“The breasts are a mother’s beacon for her child to provide nourishment but they are also sensitive enough that they can be struck if you do so directly across where this child has sought to adorn herself with metal hoops like a goat would wear.”

Jamie was allowed to rise up with her dirty knees still on the grass and her hands behind her back.

Gordon was shown how to strike, and he began spanking her across the tits with his switch. Each strike, an electric strike, that caused her to jump, jiggle and at times confuse pain with pleasure. She rarely confused the signals. It was mostly brutal pain that brought her to tears. There had been a few flashes where the line blurred and the endorphins in her brain triggered a different response to rescue her from the nerve endings that were screaming at her.

“Hey, if I’d known we could hit there, I wouldn’t have used all mine on the booty butt.” Jimmy sounded disappointed but Victoria just ignored him. Gordon’s switch struck her tits so hard it broke in two.

“See why we needed more than one? They wear out.” Gordon’s tone was cordial as if he was offering to Jamie, ‘No hard feelings about the brutal beating I just gave your melons’.

Jamie was heaving and holding her tits, but Mrs. Waxerman forbade her to rub her soreness so she had to remove them. “I’ll have none of your sneaky masturbation!”

“A loving doe, a graceful deer--may her breasts satisfy you always, may you ever be captivated by her love. ~Proverbs 5:19” Delilah quoted a passage of the Bible and Mrs. Waxerman praised her.

“Would you like a go with our guest, Delilah?”

“Maybe after Zeke has had a turn.” She sounded as if she would rather do her nails than be there at the moment.

“Can I have it across the back or the belly, next please Ma’am?” Jamie begged, suddenly wishing her tits could just be removed from her body.

“Oh you would like that, because if it hurts less you learn less, and can behave worse without fear of punishment, correct?”

“No Ma’am, I fear the punishment, thank you. This has been an eye-opener, really and truly. Please don’t show my brother and dad how to do this.” She instantly wished she hadn’t said that. She thought back to the adage that by begging her not to tell them, that would ensure the busy body showed them.

“You know, that isn’t a bad idea. Give a whore the switch and you may correct her for an hour, but teach her father to switch and correct her forever ~ Waxerman 1:1” She smiled and let Zeke have his turn where he alternated between ass and tits to the point Jamie felt her eyes roll up and her leg muscles tighten so hard she got a charlie horse

“Girl, what is this thing between your legs?”

“My Cunt, Ma’am.” Jamie was gasping and struggling, her makeup had long since ran down into her eyes and mixed with the sweat, was stinging along with almost all the other muscles in her body.

There was a gasp that she answered that way.

“She knows not what she does.” Mrs. Waxerman clasped her hands as if summoning patience and said, “The metal locket that dangles from your body, what is it and what is it supposed to do?”

Jamie tried to regain her composure and explain that it was body jewelry. “My mother has one just like it, but because of the way I am shaped, she had to pull my clit hood out of my body and sort of staple it through. It won’t go back in now. I’ve been in a constant state of arousal ever since.” She was too exhausted to lie, but the truth was as outrageous as any of the comments she made to rile the old woman up.

“So it is as if you are masturbating yourself to experience carnal pleasures at all times, even when you are not touching yourself?”

Jamie was lying on her side in the grass, sweat drenched and dirty she truly would have ruined the monokini if she had it on. “No, it’s not the same as playing with myself, but the first time I got it, I had the biggest orgasm. I’ve never had anything like it.”

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!” the boys’ cried in unison signifying that was a big faux pas on Jamie’s part. She thought she even heard Delilah join gleefully in on that chorus announcing she said something wrong.

“Jamie Taylor, you have no shame. You probably want to show us how you twist that thing and touch yourself to get that wave of sinful lust?”

“No Ma’am.” Jamie was so tired, all she wanted to do was crawl into a soft bed and hibernate until she healed.

“Would that your sexual ardor could be suppressed by the simple application of a soothing salter peter suppository. I could believe you now. Ly on your back and expose your legs wide enough that the boys do not see inside of you.”

Jamie hesitantly did as she was told – her teeth chattering in anticipation for what may be coming next.

Delilah volunteered to use the only remaining switch in good condition, despite the protests of the boys that they get the final branch.

“Shhh, you all had a turn.  Unless you want to join Jamie, you’ll hush and behave in a civilized manner.” Victoria kept order in the ranks, because they quieted down immediately.

Jamie could see the wicked smile on Delilah’s face and the gleam in her eye. She looked like she had handled a switch before and proved it when her first strike hit its mark. Dead center on Jamie’s exposed Clit. The pain caused Jamie to jerk and do what some would call a stomach crunch -lifting her shoulders off the grass and her feet, with the abdomen doing all the work to lift her up when it involuntarily clenched.

Jamie could smell her pussy musk now, the raw smell of arousal, sweat and urine coupled with the scent of freshly cut grass and the leaves on the lawn. She probably looked like a complete wretch with her long straight hair strewn wildly around her shoulders – tears streaming down her eyes as she sobbed and writhed on Waxerman’s freshly mowed lawn.

“You won’t be playing with that disgusting little hole for a while, will you, you Athanasian wench?” Jamie didn’t understand what an ‘Athanasian wench’ might be but it didn’t sound like a good thing. Victoria had the sensibilities of a traditional mountain woman, but put on airs like she was highly educated. She certainly was a walking thesaurus – a particularly cruel thesaurus.

Jamie had suffered under an enema she showed her father how to do at their house earlier in the week but this beating was nothing short of unmerciful.

“Take the garden hose to the dollymop and once she has dried off you can bring her inside for a proper enema. I don’t want to do it inside.”

“We get to watch that too?” Jimmy sounded excited as he retrieved a hose from the side of the house.

“Ordinarily I would say no. The girls shall be kept from the boys during the administering of an enema. However, you’ve already seen this one in this most distressing state, so you can watch her.”

“What about you and Delilah, Aunt Nah-nah?” Gordon asked excitedly.

“Do you want to cut another switch for yourself?” Victoria made it clear in no uncertain terms that the boys would not watch her or her favored niece’s enema. “This is purely for educational purposes, and not edification Gordon Waxerman. You are not to take pleasure in it beyond that of learning the proper way to administer an enema.”

“Yes Ma’am.” He sounded disappointed.

Jamie jerked suddenly when the spray of garden water hit her chest with a heavy thud and splattered over her face.

“Her Messalinist of a mother has taught her to endure enemas in a particularly obscene fashion for their own gratification, but she will find that while mine is thorough there is no chance she will enjoy it. This is a favor for her father who asked me to help him.” She sounded very grateful anyone would ask for her help. As shrewful as she was, that request was probably quite seldom.

“What is a Messanialist?” Zeke butchered his question.

“Valeria Messalina was a Roman empress as the third wife of the Emperor Claudius.” Victoria said the word roman as if it were a hated enemy. “Extremely lustful, but also insulting, disgraceful, cruel, and avaricious; due to her inbreeding. She had an all-night sexual competition with Scylla the fallen woman. Jamie’s mother is the physical manifestation of this debauchery, which makes her a Messalinist.”  Victoria explained patiently.

“Hey turn over, I’m done with the front.” Jimmy kicked Jamie with his foot to prod her.

“Jimmy?” Victoria asked expectantly.

“I am sorry, I mean turn over PLEASE”.

“Much better.” Mrs. Waxerman complimented her nephew while Jamie struggled to get up. “Remain on all fours so that Jimmy can wash you down, I wish you would hurry. Your father is expecting us at 2pm and I do hate to be rushed.”

“Yeah! The pool party!” The boys cheered.

“Nothing but Boodlers and Snollygosters will attend,” Victoria snorted with derision. “We will only attend because Bill Taylor asked me to deliver his daughter, because I want nothing of the bickering and in-fighting, or the flying rumors. If we stay, it is merely to enjoy politely and not engage in any of your tomfoolery or shenanigans!” She warned the boys without once looking at Delilah to include her in those instructions.

Jamie’s skin was turning a bright pink in the hot sun from the blood flowing under her skin and the tepid hose water, but she was now relatively clean except for a few places.

“You can walk inside.” Vicky offered kindly.

“If it suits you, I’ll crawl just like this.” Jamie grunted in discomfort. She was still committed to the white-alert charade she had begun and this was her half-hearted attempt to continue the game.

“Suit yourself, but you’ll wipe your knees and palms clean before setting foot into my parlor.” She sounded tolerant.

Jamie crawled in front of the boys who took liberties in poking and prodding her as she waddled to the patio door.

“You see why we all cut our own switches every time now?” Gordon asked her. She nodded her head but he felt compelled to explain anyway “The whooping t’aint over til the switches are all broke.” His toothy grin spread across his freckled face waiting for Jamie to do the same. He was surprised she didn’t seem to take to the proverbial country wisdom he had obviously learned from Mrs. Waxerman first hand.

She stood up to wipe her feet, knees and palms and entered the house. She hadn’t remembered it feeling quite so cold in Mrs. Waxerman’s house but this was her first time setting foot inside it. A cold chill ran down her spine and goose bumps immediately emerged all over her body. Her nipples were kept hard by the piercing she had received but this cold air was magnified by the contrast of the heat from outside and it made them painfully rock hard. She shivered as she stood waiting for this ordeal to begin.

Waxermen led her into a room where she placed a rubber sheet on the ground and had Jamie get down on all fours.

“You would ordinarily not take so much time to inspect the backdoor of a proper woman, but it is important that you see how I insert the syringe.”

Waxerman had Jamie pull her cheeks apart so they could see as she smeared a white substance she called ‘lard’ on Jamie’s ass.  The substance was actually bacon fat mixed with witch-hazel. The waxy lubricant stung Jamie’s asshole and Waxermen chided, ‘Hush child, don’t writhe so obscenely while my nephews are behind you!” She ceased her wriggling and bit her lip to absorb the pain.

“Do you need to break wind before you receive the enema?” Victoria asked clinically. Her question made the Pooper Snoopers laugh out loud and hold their nose as if it already smelled.

“I don’t think so, Ma’am.” The question of her farting made Jamie uneasy. Her brother had been fascinated by the idea that such a perfect butt as Jamie’s’ would fart at all. He had insisted one day that she hold herself open and watched as her butthole puckered, opened and released a tiny puft of air and it had made her very self-conscious.

“You’ll be expected to carry the water for at least ten minutes. I hope you’ve been practicing since the paltry time you were able to endure my tonic last time I was at your house?”

It had only been a few days and Jamie was shocked she meant her to go the full ten minutes. She may have had an enema at most for half that time. She decided to go back into white-alert mode. “My brother has been after me to practice my enemas, but I get distracted watching the MTV and always release much too earlier because I have a short attention span, Ma’am.”

Jamie didn’t see it, but a look of skepticism registered on Delilah’s face when she heard ‘The MTV’.  It sounded normal to the boys because they had been kept in the dark about the music channel. They had heard Victoria refer to it that way before. Delilah was a little more savvy and now she began to wonder if Jamie was egging on her aunt.

“I think then, if you don’t mind clearing the boys from behind me, I’d like that opportunity to try to break wind first, Ma’am?” Jamie spread a thin smile across her lips at the sound of laughter coming from the Pooper snoopers. She already knew they enjoyed hearing about poop and farts from the many conversations they had in her backyard when they were behind a fence. Her admission now was as much white alert for Victoria Waxerman as it was for their benefit.

“Are you so special that you’ve an aversion now to my nephews watching you break wind, when cavorted like

the quicunque vult that you are earlier?”

Jamie nodded and was prodded to answer out loud, “No Ma’am, I was just thinking of their nostrils and your delicate sensibilities.”

Victoria answered that with, “My dear child, your odious behavior is far more disgusting then any noxious emanations that may come from your booty butt.”

Jimmy laughed and asked what a ‘Cinco Day Vult’ was.

“It comes from the Latin, for, ‘Whoever wants to be saved, before all things it is necessary that he hold the Christian Faith’. The first words of the phrase are applied to a girl ‘Whoever wants to’, meaning a forward girl, ready to oblige every man that shall ask her.” Victoria lectured patiently.

“That is me!” Jamie smiled as her eyes lit up in recognition.  She waited for a moment to let the shock run down Mrs. Waxerman’s spine that anyone would admit such scandalous behavior so readily and unrepentant before adding, “Unless my brother or father tell me not too.” Pouting as if she wished they wouldn’t restrain her from sexual excess. She was putting her all into the act now for Mrs. Waxerman – and by all, that not only meant her ‘white alert’ act as a wanton slut but also a juicy ‘Friiippppppp’ sound coming from her ass.

“Ewwwww, she tooted!” Jimmy announced as if everyone hadn’t already heard it – laughing through his disgust.

“Do you have any more?”

“Yes Ma’am, would you mind if I took a hand from pulling my booty butt apart, to push on my tummy?”

“I would.”

“I’ve a gas bubble, and if I could just exert a little pressure on my stomach, I might be able to let another one out before my enema, Ma’am?” Jamie was actually playing with Mrs. Waxerman still. Her brother had pushed on her tummy while she held her ass cheeks open when he wanted to see her fart to satisfy his curiosity that pretty girls farted just like everyone else did.

“Jimmy, will you reach under the girl and press firmly upon her stomach?”

“Yes Ma’am!” he sounded delighted to be included and bent over her with a solemn expression on his face as if pretending to be very serious. He pushed her tummy upwards which forced Jamie to release a little more gas, this time a less satisfying ‘siffffffffffffffffffffffffffffpp’ escaped her anal cavity.

The sound alone was enough to cause the boys more joy, but the visual of this girl holding her ass cheeks apart while the precious pink hole in between opened and closed to release a tiny puff of air was enough to make them downright giddy.

“This is a learning experience, not an opportunity for ribald exultations! You can accommodate a female this way by helping her to pass gas, but had she asked you to rub her anus or her vagina, what would you have done Jimmy?”

He waited dumbfounded for a moment before guessing, “Not do it, Nah-nah?”

“Let us hope that should you ever be the subject of a harlot’s temptation, you’ll remember what you learn from this exercise.”

“Would you like me to test Jimmy’s resolve, Ma’am?” Jamie asked quite seriously with just a hint of playfulness.

Delilah had to stifle a giggle at that question.

Waxerman only gasped, “You know I have tried for your father’s sake to treat you with my hospitality and speak to you as a young adult, but time and again you show that you are inconsolable. Has the switch taught you nothing?”

Jamie wanted to answer that it taught her plenty but the experience only congealed into a brutal whirlwind of pain she would reflect on for some time to come. “I was just trying to be helpful Ma’am, I am done breaking wind down.” Her voice took on her vivacious cheerleader positivity, even if it was somewhat forced.

The ornate wooden syringe that had been handed down from generation to generation looked something like a blacksmith’s bellows. It ended in a bronzed funnel shape that Mrs. Waxerman had greased with the lard and rubbed with her hands to warm it. “A child such as this one doesn’t deserve such comforts as this, but for your own family you should use your hands to warm the outside that it not chill them.”

She inserted the tube into Jamie’s asshole with a push and then began to slowly stoke the bellows to squeeze out the colonic mixture by pushing on a lever mechanism that forced the liquid through the stopper at an even rate.

“You’ll find this far more soothing and effective then the tabasco enema I provided you when I was at your home.”

Jamie’s eyes widened at the intrusion of the tube into her ass and the sudden knowledge that this recipe could be even more heinous.

“This is my blackstrap M&M recipe.” Mrs. Waxerman immediately shushed the boys that it had nothing to do with the ‘devil’s grapes’ which is what she called M&M’s.

“Hey Jimmy, I bought some M&Ms once, but they were defective. They all said W&W’s” Jamie tried to calm herself by telling a joke she remembered her brother telling her a long time ago. Her way of telling it was to deliver it like Goldie Hawn telling a blonde joke.

Victoria would have none of her lollygagging and bawdy humor. She let Jamie know by squeezing more of the mixture into her ass that she was the one in control.  The warm thickness of the enema was something she had never experienced before.

“You mix half Appalachian blackstrap warm molasses with half as much again of warm buttermilk to make a full quart. Take that quart and mix it in a cast iron skillet, with another quart of warm water to fill the clyster chamber.”

“Sounds delicious!” Delilah purred like a cat and the boy’s, oblivious to her sarcasm, agreed.

Victoria didn’t have a chance to admonish them because Jamie started cramping almost immediately. She let go of her ass cheeks and began to kick with her feet and hold her stomach. The mixture was causing painful cramps throughout her body, but mostly her intestines.

“Hold her feet so she does not spill it.” Victoria ordered and the Pooper snoopers immediately complied, while Jamie writhed with the enema clyster firmly shoved up her ass. “Try and calm yourself, it will be all over directly.” She sounded calm as she delivered a steady stream of M&M remedy to Jamie’s rear entrance.

“I thought you said ten full minutes, Nah-nah?” Delilah tried to sound more caring than sadistic.

“I did indeed child, once I’ve delivered at least half of this to this thrashing child, we shall cork her off.” Mrs. Waxerman tried to sound calm as she followed every gyration of the naked girl now in excruciating pain from the mixture. “Oh cease your bellyaching, you’ll find it is far easier going in than going out!” Victoria’s words, if they had been intended to be helpful at all, were not working to slow Jamie’s painful spasms.

“Delilah, would you use the corn cob to cap this beastly girl?” Victoria didn’t want the boys to enjoy that experience and she needed them to hold Jamie’s legs and flailing arms as she hurled herself around the rubber sheet in anguish.

The clyster was removed and Delilah shoved the dried corn cob husk in much further than necessary. All corn had long since been removed from the cob, but it was still easily eight inches in length.

“Excellent job Delilah,” Victoria complemented her niece before informing Jamie that the ten minutes began from this point. She examined an old timey pocket watch to note the time. “If only we had something to restrain her with, a Waxerman woman would never gyrate so obscenely.”

Jamie wasn’t pretending under her dutiful desire to perform her ‘white-alert’ charade. There was absolutely no inhibition available to her as she groaned and struggled with the enema working its way through her insides. She had felt the dried bristles of the corn cob penetrate her asshole and it felt like the molasses was forming a seal around it. Her stomach was growling and making noises she had never heard her body make before.

“I believe you did not break wind enough before this exercise began.” Victoria looked at the girl on the floor without a trace of sympathy as her nephews worked to subdue the girl. In the process if they grabbed a tit, or touched her ass, Jamie wouldn’t have noticed because her mind was completely on the harrowing experience of his new enema. She would not have believed it would be worse than the pepper/tabasco mixture Waxerman had inflicted on her and her mother on her last visit but it was.

“GAHAAHAHAHA!!!!” Jamie had snot coming out of her nose, and her eyes had swollen up with tears while she gasped and screamed for mercy.

“Should we gag her, Nah-nah?” Delilah stood impassively next to her Aunt watching the spectacle play out.

“No, despite her calls possibly awakening the devil, her airways should not be blocked.” Victoria watched with curiosity as the girl spasmed on the floor below her.

She chided the boys for letting Jamie touch herself. Jamie wasn’t striving to give herself sexual release or to reinforce the white alert, she was working her hands to her crotch area to try to remove the cob and let out the liquid from her ass. Even if Victoria hadn’t told herself it was simply an over-sexed quicunque vult reaching for her comforts in her time of need she would have forbade the cobs removal.

Jamie’s struggle lasted 3 minutes and twenty seconds before even with three younger boys pulling her down and held her arms and legs. She managed to wriggle herself  in a position with her ass in the air, that she could force the cob out.

Waxerman had Delilah waiting with a bronzed spittoon to be used as a chamber pot for the inevitable end of the struggle. The sound of the chocolate colored mixture exploding out of Jamie’s ass was hardly delicate.

“It sounds like one of Gary’s!” Jimmy scrunched his nose in disgust while smiling.

“It smells like one of Gary’s!” Gordon added with laughter.

Jamie held herself over the metal pot without any sense of modesty and released everything in her tummy and probably some things that hadn’t quite made it there yet. After the deluge had completed she wondered briefly if the penny she had swallowed on a dare as a little girl had finally made it out in that massive and complete dump.

She was still cramped when the last squirt from her ass was dropped into the bucket. She was also wet and aroused. Her nipples were extremely hard and her pussy was dripping wet. The intensity of the experience, coupled with the humiliation of it and the piercings constant reminders to her body had left her in an intensely euphoric state which was an extreme contrast to her stomach which was still grumbling and growling and in severe pain. She was feeling two extremes in her nervous center and like peanut butter and chocolate they were coming together to form something entirely new.

“Ai-ai-ai-ai” She chattered her teeth as her hips shook over the metal bucket.

“Did you enjoy that?” Jimmy asked innocently.

Jamie couldn’t answer, she was answering a more primal call that was happening in her mind and had tuned out reality.

“Sure she did, she is smiling.” Gordon speculated.

“She is smiling because she has been unblocked from the fast food, the store bought preservatives and government cheese that has been building up in her system for years.” Victoria answered for them both. “Do you appreciate what was just done for you, girl?”

“Yes Ma’am, thank you.” Jamie wasn’t sure if it was the white alert or perhaps a masochistic tendency she didn’t know existed because she offered politely, “Please show my brother and father this recipe, Ma’am.”  She decided to tell herself that it had been a polite response in a moment of weakness, because while a part of her was overwhelmingly disgusted, a part of her felt this tremendous release now that her stomach was settling down. She still had the cramp but it was manageable.

“You did alright for a city girl.” Waxerman sounded almost pleased with Jamie’s reaction none the less. “Ezekial, will you take her outside and use the garden hose to wash her off of sweat and her excretions and show her where you hid her swimming suit so that she can finish my yard before we are late to the pool party?”

The Family Feud III

Chapter Thirty-Nine
You cannot spell Cunt without U and you cannot spell Pool without P

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 39
Get out of jail cards: 1
WHORE: 2,4,1,0,1
JAMIE: 47
Get out of jail cards: 1
WHORE: 4,4,1,0,1

Jamie had earned a begrudging respect from Victoria Waxerman. She was a hard woman who didn’t grant that easily and Jamie’s earnest acceptance of the enema, willingness to listen and to go out and finish mowing the lawn without complaint earned Jamie an unspoken measure of esteem from the shrewful old biddy.

She had finished her lawn care of Waxerman’s backyard in the monokini she was wearing at the pool party when the Waxermans delivered her to her father.

Wendy had spent her afternoon under her son and husband’s disciplined care. The ice cube correction she had received had only been part of this afternoon’s entertainment for them. Whatever had happened to Wendy today she was very polite and submissive in her attitude and demeanor and walking slightly bowlegged when she entered the

Community pool. She was in a daze and blocking out the many stares, looks and comments she was getting from the people in the neighborhood she used to see as friends and neighbors.

The pool area was large enough to accommodate at least one hundred people but only sixty or so had arrived at 2pm - The affluent members of the community often preferring to be fashionably late to such events. There were parents and teenagers on cell phones and PDAs, eating the picnic lunch that was provided and some were swimming and running around. Most people had on bathing suits but none in anything as skimpy as Wendy or Jamie.

Kids and teenagers were running around - some in skimpy bathing suits but none in anything as skimpy as Jamie and Wendy had on. Jamie was in the taffy blue Lycra monokini she had mowed Waxerman’s lawn in. It gave the impression of two thin suspenders that came together in the crotch area and acted as a slender thong in the back separating both of her perfect yet very recently whipped ass cheeks.

Wendy had on the pink bubble gum two-piece bikini that Jamie had tried on for Mrs. Waxerman just before her father and Chris must have brought Wendy home from the pet store. A string wrap around for the top did almost nothing to cover her ripe melons and the piercings underneath. The eyes were drawn naturally to her silicon boobs unnatural swaying. The bottoms were considered “Butt-floss” from a company called Wicked-Weasel. The material covered only the smallest patch between her cunt laps and ass crack and left the rest for the naked eye to see.

Wendy was composed, her shoulders were back and she had teased out her hair and done her make up so that she looked ravishing. It was unfortunate for her that very few looked at her beautiful face for long before drinking in her MILF-like body.

The two were getting a lot of attention – not only for their suits. The matching WH and RE on their rosy-red butt cheeks were on full display and there was little doubt what letter was in the middle.

Chris joked he could have worn full imperial storm trooper regalia to the pool party and no one would have noticed while he stood next to his sexy sister and mom. The two men were background noise next to the girls – blending in innocuously as if they were not even there.

“I see your wife picked the most revealing bikini in the box.” Mrs. Waxerman observed to Bill Taylor.

Bill was enjoying the attention the girls were getting and it was stroking his ego to have them both with him – answering to his whims and commands. Waxerman’s approval was meaningless to him, he felt like a King stepping into the ball in his court. He barely acknowledged the woman and the kids following her.

Wendy had a slightly defeated look in her eyes as she glanced at Victoria Waxerman. She had been through her own agonizing hell today and she was not feeling playful. She had retreated into a submissive mindset after whatever harrowing experience she had undergone.

“Yeah Mom, you should have worn one more like mine!” Jamie sounded playful as she jokingly chided her mom for wearing an outfit only slightly more ‘risqué’ than her own. She had joked with the boys on the way to the pool and it had bolstered her confidence. She also now had this feeling that Mrs. Waxerman no longer completely loathed her. She still seemed to loathe her on the surface, but there was a begrudging sort of respect that she was showing Jamie.

“You tolerate your children talking back like this?” Mrs. Waxerman asked Bill. “I can see why your daughter might have no respect for her mother though, so I can hardly blame HER for those actions.”

Bill was distracted and scanning the crowd for guys who lived in the neighborhood. He was giving them a nod and a wink as if to imply, “yeah, check it out.” He was paying little if any attention to Waxerman’s litany of complaints.

“You’ll have to excuse my Dad, he is a little distracted.” Chris apologized for his Dad’s disinterest in all things Waxerman. “Did my sister do a good job on your lawn?”

“She actually did, I have no complaints about her performance.” Not complaining was high praise from Mrs. Waxerman who found fault in almost every restaurant, store or service she had ever used.

Jamie was shocked that Mrs. Waxerman didn’t mention her getting naked in the backyard. The punishment had been written in such a way that Jamie pretend it wasn’t a requirement when it was and possibly get in trouble.

“Wow, she didn’t do anything wrong, anything at all?” Chris was surprised that the bitter old woman had nothing mean to say.

“No, I would say that she is a good girl, with a bad role model on womanhood is all.” She looked Wendy up and down once again before making a sound like ‘harumph’.

“Are these your grandkids?” Bill asked absent mindedly to be polite. He was more interested in hob knobbing around the pool and showing off the girls. Waxerman was like a social albatross around his neck, insuring no one would voluntarily approach and engage him.

Waxerman had been indignant and offended when Jamie made the same comment, but she calmly brushed the inference of her age away and introduced her nephew and niece.

Wendy started to come out of her submissive stupor at the sound of Jimmy Waxerman’s voice. She had heard it often enough behind the fence. Her eyes grew wide in recognition as she asked “Are these the..?” she didn’t want to say it in front of Waxerman.

“The Pooper Snooper boys? Yes they are, Mom!” Jamie was grinning smartly as she told her mom.

Bill’s ears perked up, “Wow, they came! That’s an E for both of you.” He seemed delighted to finally meet them although they weren’t quite what he was expecting when he looked at the freckle faced young men. He made a mental note to add an ‘E’ to their W.H.O.R.E letters when they got home for getting the Pooper Snooper boys to meet them finally.

“The E for enthusiasm or Endurance?” Victoria asked non-plussed.

“E for enthusiasm.” Bill said curious how she knew what he was talking about.

Your daughter explained to me the meaning of the tattoo. I think it is an unfortunate acronym, but when she told me it stood for work, humility, obedience, respect and enthusiasm – well I believe there are worse tattoos one could have than that,” once again delivering high praise simply by not looking down her nose too far at the tattoo

Chris was more interested in Delilah. “How come I’ve never seen you at High School?”

She smiled at him with a sheepish grin and offered her hand. “Sugar, we are all home schooled.” In a deeply sexy southern accent that reminded him instantly of his sister’s Dixie Sinclair alter-ego she had played around in at the fair.

He took her hand in his with a goofy smile and replied “Enchanté”, it seemed to Chris that he was doing quite well in charming this girl without trying very hard and he was soon walking and talking with her away from the rest of the family.

It was just as well because Waxerman felt the urge to walk around the party and inform everyone of who was there just to spread rumors she had and was going to gossip about. She dismissed her boys and with some whooping Indian shouts they cannonballed into the pool in a chaotic rush of excitement.

Jamie and Wendy were anxious to swap horror stories with one another about how they had each suffered. That would have to wait, because Bill was anxious to mingle and give them dares to earn their stars and letters. He wanted to show off his bimbo wife and slut daughter and this was prime time for him. The girls would never live this down with the neighbors and they both knew it.

The first person to mingle with them wasn’t Bill’s favorite person. It could even be said that other than Waxerman, Bill least wanted to talk to Van Pewterschmidt.  He was tall with salt and pepper hair that made it difficult to estimate his age. He was very successful having had many different careers and one of the most eligible bachelors of Cherry Lawn Acres.

He was shirtless and he had a tattoo of a tiger with red paws on his right bicep. “Looking good little sister!” he smiled with a confident swagger.

Bill normally felt jealous of him. There were many reasons a person might -Van had kept his athletic frame, his good looks, he was a success in business. His house was the scene of many exclusive parties and he drove a red convertible Ferrari that he looked like he was born to drive.

He didn’t right now though, because he wanted Van to eat his heart out. Van called Wendy ‘Little Sister’ because he had dated Wendy’s older sister Lisa back in high school and the two were Prom King and Queen. Wendy had been all knees and elbows back in those days but she had obviously blossomed since then. Van made no secret he liked to flirt with her.

He had a bemused look on his face as he addressed Bill, “You are looking good old man, how is that shoulder?” tapping his old football injury.

“It’s just fine.” Bill started to feel like Van was showing him up and he was shutting down as his bravado began to fade. Bill Taylor had managed to repair his own manhood in the past week and the confidence was showing in so many ways. Van was starting to suck that confidence and ego right out of Bill and he seemed to be letting it happen.

“You have a lovely tattoo, what does it say?” Van sipped a whiskey cocktail while noticing but not leering at Wendy’s tanned but perky ass.

She turned around to let him have a better look. “It says Whore, Sir.” She said with a bit of vigor that she didn’t think she had inside of her. She had been in a confused haze, mentally processing her fate and this afternoons training and was just starting to snap out of it.

Van wasn’t easily shocked and his expression reflected his bemusement.

“Mine too, Sir.” Jamie was still operating under the mostly self-imposed white alert she had been with the Waxermans.

“Well look at you, you’re all grown up. You favor your Aunt Lisa…in some ways.” The compliment felt like a slight dig to Wendy but she couldn’t be sure if he intended it or he was just that cavalier with his words and meant it.

Bill was silent now. He was no longer scanning the crowd for people to show off his lovely wife and daughter too. He was mentally comparing himself to Van and finding himself coming up short in every category he could think of. He barely noticed that his wife was continuing to talk to Van in an upbeat and positive manner.

“Why thank you Sir, I am glad you like my bikini, my husband picked it out for me.” Bill barely registered that Wendy was doing all the talking as he sulked.

It was minutes later he came out of his stupor when he heard his wife say “I’d have to ask my husband.”

He saw Van smiling at him with his winner’s smirk and his first response was to deny whatever the request was without even hearing it out of jealousy.

“Van would like to know if you would like to go with him to buy some beer and wine for the party, Sir.”

“Yeah, it only seats two, or else I’d take all of you lovely people.” Van could be very engaging and gregarious, and if he came off as full of himself, it was because he had many accomplishments to his name.

“Yeah okay, but I am buying.” Bill said with reluctance. He would have felt a little petty if he had outright refused the offer and he had always wanted to ride in that smoking red Ferrari F430 spider.

Bill suddenly felt like one of the ‘in crowd’ at the party as he left with Van. He told the girls to report to Chris to see if he had any instructions in his haste to leave. Now that Van was treating him like a peer, his bravado started to come back as quickly as it had faded.

Wendy and Jamie dutifully reported to Chris who shooed them away. He was in deep conversation with Delilah. She was hypnotizing him with her southern charms and he was loving every minute of it.

“Well, isn’t this just peachy? We have no one to report too.” Wendy said with a touch of gallows humor to imply that wasn’t such a bad thing.

Jamie felt a little strange about her new found freedom. “What do you think Chris and Dad would want us to do?”

“Does it matter? We can do anything we want, keep a low profile, eat something.” Wendy answered conspiratorially. In the pit of her stomach she felt guilty just thinking about it, like she was getting away with something. A short week ago she would have never questioned the privilege of walking and talking to whoever she wanted at this event, but now she felt like she was getting away with something just by being out of direct supervision. The feeling of being sneaky and getting a treat actually made the event seem fun to her.

The two were about to get in the food line when Betty Bartholomew sought them out. “Aren’t you just the talk of the party!” she smiled. She was about Wendy’s age with bleach blonde hair and enormously oversized fake breasts and just a few extra pounds that gave her a very voluptuous figure. Betty was the realtor who sold the family their home when they moved here years ago and she was also a very gabby figure in the neighborhood.

Jamie and Wendy stifled the urge to sigh and turned to face her with a smile. “How so, Ma’am?” Wendy asked as if she had no idea her bathing suit left almost nothing to the imagination.

Betty wasn’t sure how to answer that question, because she felt it might just be obvious it was the skimpy outfits, tattoos and dog collars they were wearing. “Well, just you know your change I guess you could say.”

“We’ve both started a new book by Oprah, I am sure you’ve heard of it?” Wendy said with a gleam in her eye. She was completely making this up from her memory of a discussion she had with her rival Vicky from work, at the book store the night before. Wendy was starting to realize that when you ask if women have heard of a book in Oprah’s book club they will say yes, even if you are completely fabricating it.

Betty smiled uncomfortably but listened to Wendy tell her the philosophy of the book.

“It’s the latest craze. You change your wardrobe, your diet, almost everything about yourself. It is a guide to resolving conflicts, setting goals by having consequences, it is kind of far-out but if you do it, it will change your life!”

“Kind of like, ‘The Secret!’” Betty said with some recognition about one of the more widely known Oprah recommended books.

“Yes, exactly like that,” Wendy confirmed with a grin at her daughter. “You dress provocatively and it builds confidence. It exposes your shortcomings and you have to learn to accept and overcome them.”

“Oh that sounds great. I have so much trouble staying on diets though.” Betty lamented as if she were explaining why she could never go on whatever program it is.

“You have to get a sponsor, the more the better. My sponsor is my son and husband, they keep me on the straight and narrow and whenever I start to think I can’t do it, they are right there with the consequences!”

“Oh that sounds fantastic! I wish my husband would take an interest in doing something like that with me.” Betty once again offering yet another reason why she couldn’t follow whatever philosophy was in the still unnamed book.

“You could talk to my husband when he gets back with Van Pewterschmidt about training you, but he kind of has his hands full with us.” Wendy offered with only a hint of evil joy in her head at the mental image of Betty finding out what the training included.

“Mrs. Waxerman actually was kind enough to help me through a lot of the exercises today.” Jamie joined in on her mother’s little game with Betty.

“Victoria Waxerman?” Even a gadfly like Betty avoided that woman. She was surprised she would help anyone with anything.

“Yeah, if you ask her for an M&M Colonic, she will probably agree to do it. I mowed her lawn in exchange for it.”

“Wow, I’ve heard of colonics, but I don’t really know about them. They are beneficial?”

“You notice my girlish figure don’t you?” Jamie smiled and modeled her lithe figure, implying that it was in part due to the colonic she had received earlier. “Her method is very unorthodox, but if you follow it completely and without question you’ll trim down rapidly.” Jamie made sure to add, “Not that you would need it.” to the woman who was obviously sensitive about her curvaceous figure.

“Just make sure not to tell anyone, I mean Waxerman probably wouldn’t agree to give any more to us if she knew we were telling everyone the secret of how we stay so slender.” Wendy added with a big smile. The thought of Waxerman not wanting to give them enemas was enough to please her, but she was positive Betty couldn’t keep her mouth shut anyway. She’d have to tell someone else or she’d just explode.

Betty didn’t stick around, she excused herself and when Wendy and Jamie stopped giggling at what they may had just done, they laughed again when they overheard her telling someone about “Oprah’s new book!”.

The girls dodged a few other people who wanted to talk to them and made their way to the food line at the party. Most people just wanted to gawk or talk behind their backs, not actually talk to them. That was fine with Wendy she was looking forward to something good to eat.

Jamie told her about how things had been after she left the pet store. Wendy confirmed they must have come home right after Jamie had left with Waxerman in the monokini. Wendy listened to Jamie’s story and told her she was so shocked that the Pooper Snooper boys were related.

“It makes perfect sense actually,” Jamie explained. “The boys were outside almost all the time, even when they may have been in school. Mrs. Waxerman homeschools them and believes they should be outside playing a lot.”

“It explains why they are snoopers. She is the queen of snoopers!” Wendy joked and Jamie grinned in reply.

“I am worried about Chris.” Jamie was looking in the direction of Chris and Delilah chatting away.

“Why? Your brother is having fun and he isn’t messing with us. That is win/win!”

“Yah, but she has an evil side to her. I would have to wonder if she wants to take advantage of Chris.” Jamie said skeptically. She didn’t want to say it out loud that Chris was still tubby and awkward and Delilah was a hot little piece of southern sexy and something about that didn’t seem right.

“Your brother is old enough to make his own choices and his own mistakes, just as you are and have.” Wendy reminded her daughter and it came back to Jamie that they had this conversation about the tattoos, piercings and so many other things in the past week as it applied to her.

Jamie nodded in agreement and as they neared the hamburgers and barbeque tins Jamie noticed, “Look, hot dog!” with a smile.

Wendy looked at her daughter in disbelief. They had eaten hot dogs together at almost every meal at home, often raw ones. She paused as if thinking and said, “These do look nice, with the char marks.”

Jamie stabbed one with a fork and put it in her mouth like smoking a cigar and waited.

Her mom obliged by taking the other end and slowly working herself up to the center off the hotdog with small bites. They shut their eyes and tuned out whoever might be looking as they ate the hotdog the same way they had every morning in front of Chris and Bill until they met in the center and their lips touched.

When they opened them they were about to laugh at their own silliness when they noticed Bill and Van standing next to them. “You two having fun?” Bill said looking very upset.

“Look, don’t worry about it, call your bank on Monday and have some fun.” Van offered Bill the advice without a second thought.

“The credit card was declined, any ideas why that may be?” Bill said to his wife who was sensing his anger was quite real. “Which one, Sir?” she answered fearfully.

“ALL of them, I tried ALL of them including the ATM card.”

“Perhaps we should talk about this in private, Sir.” Wendy wanted to get away from the food services line. It had embarrassed her some to eat the hot dog like a slut but it had also amused her to shock people when she did. She was having a little fun with her situation by voluntarily engaging in the humiliation. This conversation about money could possibly blow up and she wanted to get Bill some place she could talk freely and explain all of her concerns about the finances that she had wanted to tell him earlier.

“I think right here is fine, you didn’t seem to mind acting like a slut just now, why don’t you care to talk about this now? What have you not been telling me?” Bill had a hundred scenarios in his mind about why his credit cards were declined. Many of them involved, “Wendy set me up to look impotent and powerless in front of Van when I went to buy something at the liquor store!” The conspiracy theories were racing in his mind as he thought about possible motivations like if he had no money he’d have to let them out of their service until the crises was over. Each time he thought about a new scenario he got a little bit angrier.

Somewhere at the party at the mention of marital strife, Mrs. Waxerman’s ears perked up, she was that tuned into juicy gossip.

“Look, I should probably go. You don’t have to pay me back for the booze, Man. I was going to buy it for the party anyway.” Van said with a smile. His good intentions and generosity only served to make Bill feel that much smaller.

“Fine, let’s go talk about it.”  Bill told his wife.

“What should I do, Sir?” Jamie offered sweetly.

“Go suck his cock!” Bill motioned to Van and stalked away with his wife, leaving the blue-eyed, blonde haired teenage girl looking stunned.

Bill brought her into the men’s bathroom and locked the door. There were two stalls and a urinal in here and it was right next to the women’s bathroom. It wasn’t the most private place and the acoustics made it sound like your normal voice was shouting as it bounced off the concrete walls.

“Explain,” Was all he said.

Wendy patiently explained that even on a Senior Vice President’s salary in the current economy that wasn’t a lot. “The more you make, the more you spend.” She explained that during the housing bubble they had taken money out in equity on the house and now it was worth half of what they borrowed if they sold it at face value. They had two car payments, a balloon payment coming due to the house (And the Griffin’s held the mortgage), and several other credit card bills. “If I kept zero balances, they would close out the account for inactivity, so in order to keep them open I always maintained a balance and paid it down but rang it up again.”

Bill was furious and he slapped Wendy so hard her jawbone hurt. His slaps had never felt quite like this before to Wendy. This one felt real and it felt personal.

He knew he might have just hit a little too hard that time but he didn’t apologize. He stood his ground but he let Wendy hold her jaw with her hand and look at him with remorse. He normally wouldn’t have allowed that under other circumstances but even he knew that his strike to her face in anger was uncalled for, even if he wasn’t going to admit it.

“You don’t know how embarrassed I was.” Bill demanded.

Wendy considered him in silence for a moment. She looked down at the bathing suit and back at him and she didn’t have to say anymore. She most certainly had him beat when it came to embarrassment.

“I wanted to trust you with our finances and let you manage them, Sir.”

“Why would you do that?” Bill asked incredulously.

“You told me you were head of the household and that you wanted to handle all the money from now on.”

“Yeah, I wanted to handle the money and decide what to buy. I wanted you to still be my wife and tell me when I am going overboard!”

“Sir, am I really your wife? I mean look at me.” She tugged her pink dog collar with her fingers and grinned at him knowingly.

“You will always be my wife, Wendy Taylor.” Bill said and suddenly she was back in high school again. He was the upper classman who paid attention to her and swept her off her feet.

Wendy put her arms around Bill tightly and gave him the deepest, most passionate soul kiss locking her tongue with his in its own embrace of his. She hadn’t felt this passionate about him since the moment they were about to walk into the county fair together for ‘family fun night’.

She couldn’t remember being this in love with him since high school.

He pulled her bikini off with minimal effort and the two had wild bathroom sex on the sink, he also bent her over a urinal and began pounding her from behind and she reached orgasm twice while he fucked her hard but lovingly. Bill had fucked his wife many times in the past week but this time was so uninhibited he felt like taking mental snapshots of his wife’s face and body while he drove his cock into her pussy.

“Fuck me in the ass, please Sir”

Bill had never heard his wife ask for anal. She had received it a lot the past week even if she had not taken it during their marriage. “Call me Bill.” He spit on her ass and lined his cock up to her tight sphincter from behind.

She had her hips bent out, as she reached behind her with her hand bent over her head to stroke Bill’s hair and mewed “Yes Sir!”

Meanwhile….

Van had looked at Jamie as if Bill was surely kidding about his order to suck his dick and he was not taking it seriously.

“Would you like me to do it in your car?” Jamie asked Van meekly.

Van may have been the most eligible bachelor and able to resist the advances of 40-something divorcees who see him as a local George Clooney type. However, he found himself smiling at the teenage girl throwing herself at him. “You are serious, aren’t you?”

“Yes Sir, if my father wants me to suck your dick, I just ask… prefer you pick some place more private.”

Van cautioned her to keep her voice down and looked around the party. He noticed the hawklike eyes of rumormongers like Victoria Waxerman and Betty Bartholomew. He grimaced and thought twice of her offer. “I really couldn’t be seen leaving with a high school girl.”

“I may not be in high school any more after this weekend, Sir.”

“You know it’s not necessary to call me Sir. You could call me Van or Mr. Pewterschmidt if you prefer.”

“I’d really rather say Sir, if you don’t mind.” She offered and he acquiesced graciously. “During the half-time show at last night’s football game, I came out it in basically nothing but latex body paint and did a cheer, so I’ll probably get kicked out of school or at the very least off the squad.”

“High school football? I don’t follow that.” Van said abruptly.

“But didn’t you play back when my father went to school, Sir?” Jamie asked him

“Yeah, but I grew up. I don’t live in the past. Don’t tell me your dad still roots for the Trojans and lives his old glories?” Van sounded petty which surprised Jamie. He came across like this perfect guy who had everything all worked out.

She wanted to defend her father but all she said was, “Look my dad said to suck your dick and if you won’t take me some place private, I’ll unzip you right here and put your cock in my mouth, Sir.” Surprising even herself at the assertive manner in which she laid the ultimatum on him. The training she had received all week had told her to let the man take control, but he was putting down her dad and in her small way this was how she told him that Bill Taylor had power and he was important to her. He told her to suck this man’s cock and she was going to, come hell or high-water.

“Cool your jets,” Van cautioned her. He looked furtively around the pool area and told Jamie to meet him inside the pool shed in five minutes and with that he left her alone to mingle so that it would appear the two of them were not making a bee-line for the same place.

Jamie felt a little queasy still from her M&M enema and hotdog lunch. She was enduring the stares of mothers and their kids who seemed to gasp when they saw what she had on, and of the fathers who tried desperately to pretend not to be staring.

The Waxerman boys appeared soaking wet out of nowhere with grins on their faces. “C’mon, jump in the pool!” Jimmy tugged her hand.

“I can’t, Sir. I’ve got something I have to do.”

“What?”

“Please Sir, can’t I have one secret?” Jamie begged him sweetly.

“Nah, we are going to follow you until you tell us what you are doing.”

“Well you know how I got punished earlier today because I sucked those boys off at school?”

“Yeah!” The Waxerman brothers laughed raucously.

Jamie winced a little at how loud they were and how uncomfortable it was to admit all of this. “Well my dad wants me to suck someone’s dick at this party and I have to meet him in five minutes.”

“Is it one of us?” Gordon asked anxiously and Zeke punched him on the arm as if to stop his question. Gordon laughed and teased his brother, “Zeke’s got a crush on you!”

“Do not!” Zeke insisted then looked at his brothers and Jamie before admitting, “Gordon and Jimmy do too!”

Jamie was flattered and amused the boys had a crush on her. She knew they were fascinated with her and her mom from how curious they had been about them when they used to just be the seemingly omnipresent voices on the other side of the fence so their feelings didn’t come as much of a surprise.

“You look like a princess.” Jimmy swooned.

“Oh you look like a princess, Frraappppppppppppp.” Gordon sarcastically repeated his brother’s compliment adding a raspberry at the end in disgust. It wasn’t to mock Jamie, it was to register how gross he thought his brother’s flowery words were.

“Look, I am super flattered you all like me.” Jamie interrupted the brother’s squabble.

“Which one do you like best?” Zeke asked quietly.

She ignored him and said, “But if I do anything with you then my Brother and Dad will punish me again, and I don’t want that.”

“Oh I do!” Gordon had a goofy smile, thinking back to a naked Jamie getting switched in his backyard, as his brothers’ dog piled on him to carry on their squabble.

Jamie started to slowly back away to escape them and make her way to the quiet little pool maintenance shed and complete her rendezvous with Van.

“Wait up!” The boys followed her with puppy dog eyes.

“Really guys, I can’t do it.” Jamie tried to let them off easy, “I’ll get in so much trouble.”

“What if we tell your Dad you did suck our dicks, even if you didn’t?” Jimmy offered an alternative theory.

“You wouldn’t do that, isn’t lying a sin?”

“Man was made to sin!” Gordon grinned in agreement with his brother’s plan. “We’ll also tell Nah-nah!” he added.

The thought of that vindictive woman tanning her hide if she thought she had taken advantage of her innocent nephews and even touched their cocks sent shivers down her spine. She had picked up on the fact she had just turned a corner with Victoria Waxerman and for reasons still unknown to her, valued the old woman’s opinion of her. “Guys, I thought we were friends!” She smiled as she asked for leniency.

“We are, and we’ll be best of friends if you will lick our dicks!” Gordon giggled at what he had just said.

“Okay, but it has to be after I finish this one. When you see him leave, you can come one at a time into the pool shed.”

They grinned and nodded.

“You can’t tell Mrs. Waxerman!” She held up a finger.

They grinned and nodded.

“Or Delilah!”

They seemed a little less inclined to agree, but agree they did.

Jamie wondered if all boys were this way as she worked her way through the many guests at the community pool. There were many faces she recognized and some she didn’t. She got the rare pinch on the bottom from dirty old men and a couple ‘accidental’ bumps into the boobs as guys brushed past her.

Then she saw him.

Bradley Jenkins, the young Adonis, without his shirt, every bit as dreamy as she had imagined. She swallowed, her stomach flipped and her asshole she was quite sure had just puckered.

“Hey there, wow! That is some suit!” He noticed her right away.

“You think?” Was all she could say in response. She instantly regretted how dumb she sounded.

“Gerald is around here some place.” Brad mentioned his younger brother.

“Okay.” She fluttered her eyes at him still a bit stunned by suddenly seeing him. He wasn’t groping her or ogling her and she wished he would. Then she would at least be able to classify him as like all the other perverts and horn dogs. Instead, he smiled at her. It wasn’t leering and evil, and it wasn’t full of himself. It was the kind of self-deprecating smile that the love interest in those cheesy movies about boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy chases girl, boy gets girl in the end.

“You aren’t really dating my brother are you?” Bradley asked her point blank.

“He took me to a party last night, Sir.”

“A high school party?” Brad asked skeptically of his younger brother who was only in middle school.

“Yes Sir, Drave Strovasky.” Just the mention of his name reminded Jamie she never completed her promise to him and his friends and that she had Van waiting for her in the pool shed right now. If she didn’t get in there her father may punish her for keeping his friend waiting.

“That little squirt, he was just a freshmen when I went to Cherry Lawn.” Brad was placing the face.

“He’s gotten big since then, Sir.” Jamie smiled.

“Be that as it may, I find it hard to believe my little brother is being invited to high school parties, so what gives?”

“I have some things I HAVE to take care of, can I come back and answer that later?” She begged and naturally he let her go without further question.

She wanted him to like her so bad and dreaded whatever he father had in store for her at the pool that much more now that he was here. She didn’t have time to think about it because she had to get inside the pool shed and make good on her offer. Jamie was flushed beet red by the time she made it to the pool shed with embarrassment as she realized she was getting wet either at the thought of Bradley Jenkins or at the idea of hurrying to suck off four dicks. She wanted very much to believe it was Bradley Jenkins.

When she got to the pool shed she opened the door and saw that the room was dark. She felt around for anything in the clutter of old paint cans and pool maintenance equipment. She had a lump in her throat because Van wasn’t there. She knew she would be punished if he left because he waited too long.

Suddenly, She heard a voice from outside the shed over the steady hum of the pool pump, “Over here” it whispered hoarsely.

She moved closer to the pump where the hose went back outside the far side of the shed. It was Van on the outside. “We don’t have a lot of time. I am going to stand here and pretend to have a smoke and put it through the hole, understand.”

“Yes Sir” Jamie agreed as she looked through one of the holes intended for a pool pump air intake. She saw his one-eyed snake slide down that hole and into the dark shed as he told her ‘well?” with his stomach pressed up against the side of the shed.

“Why not come inside?” she touched his dick with her fingers and teased it.

“If someone saw me come out with you I am busted no matter what. This way I can zip and walk away if I hear someone coming. Just hurry!” he repeated.

Jamie didn’t waste any time getting started. Even though this was her second day as a certified cock sucker and her first one of the day, she had been told she was very good at it and she believed it. If the look of satisfied relief on the faces of the guys she had sucked off had been any indication. She worked her tongue along his shaft and took everything he stuck through the hole in her mouth. She was learning to relax her throat muscles and use her saliva to coax the man to orgasm lovingly.

She hadn’t gone all the way yet, but she imagined Van’s cock in her pussy the same way he thrust it through the hole into her hungry mouth. He lasted approximately three minutes of solid stroking and thrusting before he made a slight sound, stiffened and poured his hot cum on her tongue without further warning.

“Sorry, I should have warned you in case you don’t swallow.” He whispered through the hole.

“I swallow, Sir.” She said still wiping her mouth in the darkness of the pool shed.

“Good girl, wait a while then you can come back out, but it might be best if we don’t tell your father you actually did this.” He smiled.

“My dad told me to do this, you heard him Sir.” Jamie was confused but Van didn’t wait around to explain further.

Moments later there was a tap-tap-tap on the door and giggles.

“Come around to the back” Jamie whispered to the door. She pictured the movie “Forest Gump” and how Jenny had told Forest to do the same thing back on the farm and she smiled at how naughty it must have sounded.

She peeped out of the hole that Van had just stuck his cock through and saw all three of the Waxerman boys standing around looking excited.

“Come back one at a time, only one of you can be here or someone will catch us!” She whispered through the hole.

There was an immediate struggle as the three boys worked out who would stay and who would go. In the end, Jimmy who seemed to be the most alpha of all of them remained.

“Put your cock through the hole in the wall, Sir.” Jamie whispered.

“Why? Is someone else in there? Mr. Snips?” Jimmy said skeptically.

“No, no one is in here, Jimmy. If someone caught us together in here they’d know we were up to something. If you hear someone coming you can zip up and walk away and no one will be the wiser. You can tell them you were just playing hide and seek or something.”

Jimmy accepted this theory and put his dick through the hole. It was short and stubby and uncircumcised. Jamie looked at it strangely before opening her mouth and planting the boy sausage in her mouth. “You naked?” he asked.

“Jimmy, I can’t do this if you keep asking questions, Sir.” She let his dick out of her mouth just enough to answer.

“Sorry, Sorry, it would just help to know you are naked.”

“I am, okay Sir?” she lied.

“Then put your suit out the door so I can see it.” Jimmy said skeptically.

“You’ll snag it and run off with it.” Jamie said and giggles emerged from just outside the shed door. “Guys, seriously. Come back one at a time or we’ll get in trouble.”

Gordon and Zeke begrudgingly left the side door and Jamie continued to work Jimmy’s cock until he busted his nut in her mouth and sprayed her with thick cum. She swallowed every last drop. He stuck his thumb in his mouth when he came and closed his eyes. “Don’t tell Gordon and Zeke I suck my thumb!” Was all he said as he ran towards the pool area almost as soon as he finished his orgasm.

Gordon came shortly after and followed the same drill of putting his uncircumcised cock through the hole. His stunk like asparagus and piss but Jamie had swallowed worse since she started her training and she tried to think about something else as she bobbed her head up and down on his dick. She pulled her monokini bottoms to the side and fingered herself with the hand she wasn’t using to guide the pecker into her mouth.

She reached her own orgasm shortly after Gordon left a hot, sticky load of his crème filling down her throat. He thanked her several times before getting the hint and running back to the pool so that Zeke could have his turn.

Jamie hadn’t stopped fingering herself. She was in a dark room filled with bleach and paint and decided she might as well have a little relief if she was going to squat in there and give these boys relief of their own.

Zeke’s uncircumsised dick was much larger in width and length and the shaft of extra skin seemed to hide even more dick that Jamie had not anticipated for such a young guy. He invaded her mouth through the hole in the wall and try as she may to take it all, she just couldn’t without fear she would vomit. She thought if her Dad were pushing her head down all the way on it, she might be able too but there was just no way in the position she was in she could see that happening.

Zeke took longer than the others to finally uncork his load and when he did it was enough to drip down Jamie’s mouth. “I’ve always wanted to know what oral copulation felt like!” He whispered quietly.

“This was your first time?” Jamie answered back with a smile.

“Yes Ma’am, I’ve heard a lot about it from Nah-nah, but it was nothing like she said and I don’t think I will go to hell for getting it.”

Jamie smiled at the sweet boy. She was pleased he hadn’t been brainwashed.

Then he added, “I mean you’ll probably go to hell for giving them, but you already did so many yesterday you may as well be a trollop.”

Jamie smiled, “Yes Sir, I AM a whore.” she admitted before adding, “Now get out of here before your Nah-nah finds out. I’ll come out in about five minutes.”

Jamie wondered what her mom was doing right then while she finished fingering herself. Then she briefly wondered what Delilah Waxerman and her brother might have in common to talk so long about before finally fixing her monokini bottoms and cleaning her finger off with her tongue. She had done it enough times at home that it felt like the right way to finish masturbating.

Jamie was still processing whether or not it had been right to suck off the Waxerman brothers. She assumed her father would be happy since he had mentioned them doing it for stars at home before he knew who they were.

When Jamie finally emerged from the pool shed she was surprised to see an entirely new spectacle waiting for her.

It was Hope Miller in a brown thong bikini with her father in a red speedo. Jamie and her mother had been the source of giggles, leers, and even gropes but this new spectacle was gaining even more buzz with pool guests. Hope was a tall cheerleader who had grown up with Jamie. She knew she was involved in some sort of blackmail with Cathy Griffin because of her refusal to continue to participate in the cheerleader’s locker room the night before and her father’s begging her to continue.

The last time she had seen Hope she was naked with three football players at Dave Stravosky’s party passed out in bed with them.

Here she was very compliant and prancing on a leash while being led about by Cathy Griffin. Her silver haired, pot-bellied father smiling and laughing as if this were some kind of joke, waddling behind both of them in an impossibly small bathing suit.

Most of the males at the party had knee-length suits, typically dark blue with the name of a beer like “Corona” down the side. There weren’t any in small bathing suits and this was tiny. Women would usually just stare scorn silently at other women in skimpy bikinis and talk behind their backs, and very few men would say anything negative about what she or Hope had on.

However, Hope’s Dad was awkwardly pretending not to notice all the men who outwardly said things like, “Are you smuggling grapes?” and “Did you forget to put on swimming trunks?” Jamie winced at how he must be feeling as Cathy took her time on her procession around the party as if she didn’t realize they were the center of attention.

“Disgusting,”  Waxerman said from behind Jamie causing her to flinch from surprise.  Mrs. Waxerman ignored the girl’s jumpiness and whispered to her, “I’m not one to gossip, but Hope Miller is an even bigger quicunque vult than you or your mother combined. I’ve been told there are strange men coming from their home almost 24 hours a day and it operates like a brothel, not that I would know firsthand.”

Jamie knew that Mrs. Waxerman most certainly walked her Dog past Hope’s house because it was between Waxerman’s house and her own and that this was her way of positioning herself to tell rumors without admitting she started them. “What if she has no choice in the matter, Ma’am?” Jamie replied wistfully watching as Cathy toyed with Hope and her father around the community pool opening them to ridicule by leading them about.

“Nonsense, everyone has choices, but there are consequences to those actions.” Mrs. Waxerman dismissed the very notion that there could be any other explanation than Hope was simply a loose girl. “Her father is one of the flim-flammers and schysters who run the public school system. You can see how liberals are. Cavorting in an indecent swimsuit himself, he has taught his daughter the absolute absence of morality and this is the fruit of those seeds.” She indicated with her hand the rude spectacle playing out near the cocktail bar at the pool.

Hope’s ass was being pinched as she stood there with her father and Cathy. Jamie couldn’t quite hear what was being said but there was laughter as if Cathy were telling jokes and Hope and her father were the butt of those jokes.

Jamie wondered why Mrs. Waxerman was confiding in her, this condescension about the Miller family. She didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth and maybe it was just because Jamie was one of the few people who would listen to the old woman without making an excuse to walk away. “You don’t like my swim suit, either though Ma’am?”

Victoria looked at Jamie as if she had to be kidding. “It isn’t a proper swimsuit, but I picked it out from the more obscene ones your mother would prefer you to wear. You are most certainly a temptress for man’s base carnal desires in that suit, but you would have worn far worse if the she-devil mother of yours had influenced you.”

Jamie wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or a convoluted justification for Victoria’s hypocrisy over judging the Millers and not her, but she just smiled and that seemed to satisfy Waxerman.  “Have you seen my nephews? They’ve been hiding around here and I want to keep an eye on them.”

“Yes actually I saw them over by the pool shed just a few minutes ago, Ma’am.” Jamie stifled the smile that spread across her face thinking that wasn’t all she did with them at the pool shed a few minutes ago.

Waxerman stalked off to see what mischief her nephews might be into and left Jamie standing alone by the pool. She was wondering where her father and mother were and watching her Brother and Delilah on the other side of the pool under a cabana umbrella chat away.

When she turned her head she noticed Cathy Griffin’s grinning face staring at her. “We wondered how long it would take for you to notice us standing here.” Cathy’s long strawberry blonde hair was flowing over her shoulders and she wore a skimpy bikini over her pale frame made innocuous by Hope and her father who were standing right by her.

“I thought you were done with all of this.” Jamie asked Hope by making an observation. She let the implication ‘All of this’ be the humiliating game that Cathy had her playing without actually saying it.

“You can answer, Pet.” Cathy told Hope.

Hope was behaving demurely and without any trace of the defiance from the night before. “I am a Pet, Ma’am. I am on the leash so that I don’t run around the party and act like an out of control slut.” It was a practiced explanation she must have told other guests who asked about the 3 foot silver chain attached to her neck.

“Jamie is playing a game like you and your father’s, she can know a little more about how it works, Pet.” Cathy’s tone was sweet but mixed with an aura of menace, “After all, I am still your mistress too aren’t I, Jamie?”

“Yes Mistress, my father calls it a key-holder, now.” Jamie wasn’t sure if Cathy was privy to the new rules her father had introduced the night before.

“That’s cute, your father and his rules.” Cathy’s honeyed tone was laced with sarcasm. “Miller, would you like to sniff my butthole?” She asked.

Hope’s father swallowed and looked around the pool. He reminded Jamie of a TV Televangelist who was admitting he ‘sinned’ on Television. He was sweating and trying to look apologetic but still desperate to continue sinning. “Yes Mistress, I would love to sniff your butthole.” He admitted.

“Motivations are different, some come at this out of fear, others pride, some just because they are addicted to my sweet, sweet butthole, isn’t that right Miller?”

“Yes Mistress, may I have a sniff?” He sounded like a meth addict asking for another fix.

“You saw Hope go through the five stages of grief.”  Cathy ignored his anxious request and explained to Jamie.

“The first is denial. You can’t believe this is happening to you. It could happen to someone else, but not you. Somehow your pussy is too precious to be on display and your freedom is too unique to be taken from you. Isn’t that right Pet?”

“Yes Mistress, I did feel like that.” Hope answered sweetly.

“A temporary defense of the weak; as the subject gains a heightened awareness of their situation, it is followed by Anger.” Cathy’s eyes flashed dramatically as if mimicking someone who was angry but powerless. “Oh why me? The world isn’t fair! You saw Hope’s rage in the locker room last night. Hope was a bad girl wasn’t she?”

Hope answered, “Yes Mistress, I was bad.”

“What happens to bad girls?”

“They get punished Mistress.”

“Should bad girls be mad at the person punishing them, or themselves for refusing to cooperate with the rules they themselves agreed too?”

“The bad girl should accept her punishment gracefully and thank the Mistress for helping her to see the error of her ways.” There was a melancholy enveloping Hope’s responses that was almost robotic.

“Once anger passes, there is bargaining.” Cathy grinned. “I enjoy this part the most. The negotiation when you know you hold all the cards is the most sublime of all the stages in this process.” She made it sound like she was worldly beyond years and Jamie had to wonder if she was more than just a diabolical teenager with a sadistic streak.

“The third stage of bargaining is where the subject thinks they can postpone the inevitable by bargaining. They can somehow change their fate and live happy. If they don’t negotiate with me, they negotiate with themselves. Hope

Went to Dave Stravosky’s party and told herself she could fuck anyone she wanted, when she wanted. What did Hope learn about that?”

Hope sniffled slightly and answered, “My pussy belongs to Mistress, and I fuck only when and if she tells me.” It sounded like a practiced mantra that frightened Jamie. She felt Hope must have things even worse than her. Her father was still prancing in place as if fighting the urge to fall to his knees and beg to sniff someone’s butthole.

“The fourth stage is only emptiness. When the consequences of her actions kicked in, there was what my Pet?” Cathy asked Hope.

“Depression, Mistress.” Hope looked defeated. Jamie was very curious what kind of punishments and corrections Cathy had inflicted on the poor girl to bring her back in line so completely. Her imagination ran wild with possibilities.

“That’s right, emptiness without the direction I provide. The gnawing fear has turned you upside down and submitting to it brings you to the fifth and final stage of acceptance.” Cathy gave Jamie a wintry smile as she ended her lecture on how she maintains control over others.

Jamie wanted very much to understand the back story on Cathy. She knew that her older brothers were somehow involved and in their careers as an attorney, private investigator and repo-man they were suited to digging up dirt in her blackmail games.

She knew that Cathy had once been just one of the girls who attended the many sleepovers in grade school that so many other girls on her cheerleader squad had. Then they were equals – giving each other make-overs, making lists, drawing unicorns, telling innocent secrets.

Somehow things had changed when they entered high school and she never noticed. Jamie speculated that Cathy probably started with one gullible girl who she blackmailed just like Hope. Surprised at the success and drunk on the power, she may have convinced other people to participate. They may have done so to be part of the ‘in-clique’ or for the promise of power or because of some secret blackmail.

It was entirely possible that Cathy had at one point or another controlled every member of the varsity cheer squad.

Simply because she started with one and the others fell over like bowling pins as she worked her way through to them. Jamie didn’t know the extent of her control, but months earlier she had sent several to model for her father’s ‘craigslist’ ad as a form of humiliation. Cathy was as unaware then that Jamie herself would be part of these blackmail games because when she saw the pictures for the first time she thought it was Jamie trying to turn the tables on her.

That was one theory and maybe the simplest answer. The other was she was some sort of diabolical mastermind with unlimited resources and impossible influence who knew all and saw all.

“May I sniff your butthole now, Mistress?” Hope’s father begged quietly.

“Have you been given permission to ask me offensive questions like that?” Cathy sounded annoyed

“No Mistress!”

“Are you just trying to get punished so that I will pay attention to you?” She sounded skeptical.

He stopped skipping from foot to foot as if he were dodging the odd looks he was receiving from guests who were watching the four converse by the pool. “Yes Mistress, I am.” He hung his head in shame.

“You see, Jamie? A Mistress’ work is never done.” She led Hope and her father away towards the bathrooms with a sigh.

The Family Feud III

Chapter Forty
Everyday I write the book

STAR COUNT:
WENDY: 39
Get out of jail cards: 1
WHORE: 2,4,1,0,1
JAMIE: 47
Get out of jail cards: 1
WHORE: 5,4,1,0,1

Don't tell me you don't know what love is

When you're old enough to know better

When you find strange hands in your sweater

When your dreamboat turns out to be a footnote

I'm a man with a mission in two or three editions

An old Elvis Costello song was grooving through the pool party over the loud speakers as the family assembled under a cabana.

Jamie had been looking for Bradley Jenkins to answer some of his questions but hadn't found him. Chris had to be pried away from his deep conversation with Delilah but vowed to get back to it. Wendy and Bill had been fucking hard in the bathroom and only stopped after someone kept repeatedly banging on the door.

Bill called an impromptu family meeting to deliver the news. “We are broke.” He didn't blame Wendy for this (as he had when he first discovered his account was empty and his credit cards were maxed out). He accepted ultimate responsibility and said that some of the things they bought will be going back to the store today.

This didn't bother either of his kids who hadn't grown used to any of those items and Jamie was hoping some of that stuff may be from Buford's porn store since most of it had been purchased to torment her anyway.

Bill explained that even with Wendy's paycheck they would not have enough for groceries, gas and immediate bills since everything was purchased with ATM debit cards and credit cards these days. He had about ten dollars to his name.

Chris immediately offered eighty dollars he had made off renting his sister and mom. “I was saving this for some super-sweet full size replica of the Doctor's Tardis I saw on E-bay!”

Bill didn't know what Chris was talking about but he shook his head. “That's your money, I can't take it. You earned it.” He said pridefully.

“It's actually money earned off the sweat of the slut's asses. I would have had more but I already spent it on Battlefield 3.” Chris added, “The family is in trouble, I am part of the family, so I contribute to the family.” his logic couldn't be disputed especially in light of the family coming together in the recent week.

“Yes Sir, we'll work harder to earn more money for the family too.” Wendy felt confident she was speaking for Jamie when she made her offer.

“Wendy has made me aware that there is a balloon payment coming due this week on the house, and our car insurance, car payments, and a bunch of other bills are coming due. I don't think the twenty dollars you are making per night is going to make a dent in this.” Bill's brow was knotted as he thought about what to do.

“I could sell some blood at the free clinic.” Chris said with a smile trying to offer some levity into a difficult situation.

“If it's free, how much do you think you can get for it, Sir?” Jamie quipped knowing now was a time they could speak more freely and taking the opportunity to be funny.

“I didn't mean my blood? I meant yours and moms!” Chris topped her joke with one of her own.

“Actually, we could probably mow lawns, too. Did that guy contact you, Sir?” Jamie offered helpfully.

“You mean that old guy? I didn't know what he wanted and he sounded like a creeper so I just hung up on him.”

“A man approached me today while I was mowing Mrs. Waxerman's lawns about mowing his. I didn't know what to tell him so I told him that my brother could schedule it.”

“That isn't a bad idea, diversify my pimpin portfolio.” Chris jovially popped his collar and slit his eyes to act 'cool'.

“I suppose you girls want stars if you mow lawns and wash cars so we can afford groceries to feed your fat asses?” Bill sneered.

“At least earn a W for working, Sir.” Wendy counter offered. “You still get the money we earn, and it demonstrates we are trying to help the family in our currency capacity.”

Her mother was an expert negotiator of contracts at work and that came across in how succinctly she made that case. Jamie wondered if this was that point in Cathy Griffin's cycle where the negotiation was happening. It didn't feel like anger and denial had preceded getting to this point, at least not recently.

She had grown to accept her role and even have fun with it at times. “I sucked Van's cock like you told me too Sir, do I get a W for that one?” She asked changing the subject.

Wendy was surprised to hear Van’s name. She knew her sister had dated him years ago and it made her uncomfortable to think her daughter had just blown him. She told herself ,‘There is no way Lisa could find out her niece did that’, as she calmed herself over it. Jamie had sucked several dicks since the day before and she’d suck more before the week was out. This was something Wendy just needed to get used too. Van was very handsome and a lot of women her age might really like to suck Van’s dick, she thought to herself as she pictured it.

“Wow, I didn't really mean,” Bill started to explain and then he grinned at his daughter's admission. He had only said that in anger in his haste to be alone with Wendy and get to the bottom of the financial situation. He accepted her admission and asked where he took her.

“Through a hole in the pool shed.” She explained his logic for being able to keep his distance and not be caught inside the shed.

“Wow, my sister at the glory hole.” Chris joked.

That was the first time she heard that term, she was surprised there was a word for it. “I also had to suck off the Pooper Snoopers.”

Even her mom was shocked when she explained how they made it clear they would sick Waxerman on her, and that Jamie hadn't turned them down.

“You are becoming a real cocksucker.” Bill grinned at the mental image of what Van's reaction might have been to his daughter's offer. “Yeah, you get a W for that. What should your punishment be for not learning your lesson from yesterday? You don't get to hand out sexual favors to guys to get your way. Your mouth belongs to us!”

Jamie pouted slightly at the unfairness of the question. “I couldn't find you and Chris was talking to Delilah, Sir.”

“You could have interrupted to ask if you could suck off her cousins. I get the impression she would enjoy hearing you grovel and beg to be allowed to lick their sacks.” Chris lit up at the mention of the sweet and sassy Waxerman niece.

“Then I apologize Sir, and submit to a correction from the funishment jar. I haven't learned the appropriate lessons that I am under control even when you are not there to directly supervise me.”

Bill's grin was very broad as he leaned back in his patio chair. “I could make you go tell Mrs. Waxerman you blew her nephews and submit to her punishment.”

Jamie's eyes became wide like Millhouse at the thought of what the woman might do to her.

“I am a fair man though; obviously it's going to keep coming up that for some coincidence, groups of boys want you to suck their dick in exchange for something else. I mean that happens to me all the time, doesn't it happen to you Chris?” Bill said it in a tone that implies it never happens.

“Oh yeah Dad, the other day I was lost and I couldn't find my way home, and the only way a guy would give me directions was if I sucked his dick and his three friends.” Chris joked.

“That's nothing, I found someone's wallet and when I returned it to him, he said he'd report me unless I blew thirty cocks in a makeshift glory hole.” Bill fist bumped his son as they made fun of Jamie's apparently coincidental bad luck.

She took their condescension with lemony good humor and nodded along with a hint of a smile that it did seem like maybe more than a coincidence she always had to pay in BJs.

“From now on when you are in a situation where you are not under immediate direct supervision, and you feel like you have to do it, you need to get 5 dollars for hand jobs and 10 dollars for blowjobs or else it's a correction. ONE for each dick.” Bill said

“Wait, maybe she has to suck fifty dicks at once. It should probably just be one correction per dick sucking session, Dad?” Chris was half joking as he asked for leniency.

“Okay, I am willing to say up to three cocks for one correction and another correction for every fraction of three cocks after that IF it is in the same setting, but if she sucked three cocks in three separate incidents it is three corrections and that's my final offer.” Bill and Chris were having fun joking about Jamie's change to the rule.

“That seems fair, Sir.” Jamie squirmed while they laughed and talked about her like a whore.

“Good, that’s settled. You girls will do your best to earn as much as you can, and we men will take leadership and supervision roles to keep you settled.  Do you need affirmations, because I am bored and I want to see if you really are loyal sluts who are learning your place.

Wendy looked around the pool party. It was in full swing with music, people laughing and playing. The adults were talking business and pleasure as realtors and insurance salesmen mingled in to talk about golf but end up talking about investments and annuities with some hapless party guest.

The initial shock over Cathy Griffin and her pets had died down and they were no doubt off some place doing something wicked.

“Okay, let’s do Dancing for Stars. You have three songs on the dance floor each to outdo each other. I want you to go dance with men on the dance floor and be as suggestive and interesting to watch as possible. The girl who performs the best today earns an extra star.” Bill quickly outlined his competition and with the clarification that he wanted them to get the most attention as possible and they were to be near the DJ booth.

Chris held up two water bottles with hastily hand written labels “Lemonade” and “Chocolate Drink” on them.

“Oh yeah, slut squeezins, whoever wins gets to pick which bottle she wants.” Bill smirked at Wendy.

She knew exactly what was in them. “Sir, don’t you think it’s fair she knows what is in each bottle.”

“Your mom’s slut’s squeezins, I am sure you’ve tasted worse.” Bill laughed at his daughter’s uncomfortable expressions. “Melted ice cubes mostly, with a little added flavor.”

Jamie wasn’t so naïve she didn’t know what they were talking about. “Do I get more stars for picking chocolate when I win, Sir?”

Before her father could complain that she was being greedy about stars her mother joked, “Who says you are going to win?” and took her by the hand out on the dance floor. The two were actually chuckling softly as they strolled through the party guests.

The DJ was a young Puerto Rican guy who looked like he’d rather be spinning house music that he could scratch and cut too than be at a suburban pool party. He stood with his arms folded as if he was waiting to have his picture put on a Beastie Boy’s album. He was playing Al Jarreau, Maddona, and Jimmy Buffet for a crowd of affluent Forty-somethings and teenagers but he did crack a smile when Wendy and her daughter joined the dance floor.

Wendy joked with her daughter as she scanned for someone to dance with, “Is my camel toe showing?” as if that might be the reason she was getting so many leering glances. The two were giggling at each other’s jokes as they slid around the dance floor together.

“I think you’ve got reverse camel toe,” Jamie joked back that it seemed everything else was showing except the slit of her clit.

“Chris says reverse camel toe is when your ass eats your shorts and your booty is showing” Wendy corrected jokingly over the music while the two danced together to get warmed up on the dance floor.

“I guess you have that too.” Jamie smirked noting how many disgusting terms they had learned from Chris in just over a week.

Hey, where did we go

Days when the rains came?

Down in the hollow

Playin' a new game

Laughin' and a-runnin', hey hey

Skippin' and a-jumpin'

In the misty mornin' fog

With our, our hearts a-thumpin'

And you, my brown eyed girl

You my brown eyed girl

A bouncy Van Morrison song, the first person to want to dance with Wendy was Van Pewterschmidt. “Hey, they are playing my song, shall we...” Implying some connection to the singer.

“We shall” Wendy accepted his offer and started dancing with him. She could see Chris and Bill in the distance watching from their table and trying to encourage her to be more frisky and entertaining. She wasn’t quite sure how to do more than jiggle and bounce.

“Who would have known you’d grow up to be more the beautiful Sister?” Van said confidently.

“Have you seen Lisa recently, Sir?” Wendy asked of her sister, barely acknowledging the compliment.

“Not in twenty years, but I can’t imagine she is as lovely as you. Bill is a very lucky man.”

Jamie was dancing with some teenage boys who Wendy didn’t know. They weren’t geeks so they were probably not Chris’s friends. She noticed her daughter was touching their shoulders and turning around to grind her butt cheeks into them while she danced sexy to the song and so Wendy stepped up her dance with Van the same way.

“You have a very lovely daughter.” Van offered.

“Oh thank you, Sir.”

“You just have to watch out, I think she may be a wild one.”

“Wild, how so?” Wendy played Coy, turning around to put her arm around his neck for leverage while she bumped her crotch into his waist. She had a small look of satisfaction on her face as she noted he was a little harder with each bump of her ass.

“Oh, I probably shouldn’t say.” Van got quiet and then joked “Well, she seemed to think your husband was serious when he left with you in a big hurry.”

“Serious about what, Sir?” Wendy was still being coy as she danced a sexy salsa style to the chorus of Brown eyed girl. She could hear her son in the distance ‘Brown EYE girl’ or perhaps that was her imagination.

“Oh, um he joked that she should, you know suck me off.”

Wendy gave him a flash of her beautiful eyes. She was a sexy older woman, equal parts Jamie Lee Curtis, Katy Segall and Connie Britton in the face, but nowhere near the youthful vibrancy of her daughter. She did outshine her daughter in one key area and that was her perfect tits that bounced and swayed hypnotically and she enjoyed the power they were having over Van. It seemed to put him off his swagger just a bit.

“She didn’t suck you off, Sir?” She sounded innocently annoyed as she continued to tease and dance.

That wasn’t the response Van expected from her. He had lived in the neighborhood long enough to see her as a confident executive type woman and assumed she was just letting her hair down at this pool party. He himself understood mid-life crises and he thought perhaps her wearing the way-too-skimpy bikini was just one of those things women her age do to see if they ‘still got it’ – and from where he was standing, it seemed she still had it!

“I’ll tell her father about that, he won’t be happy she lied and said she did, Sir.” She glanced at her daughter who was oblivious to the conversation and having fun dancing with two boys on either side of her while she did a little shake-shake. As a cheerleader with a lifelong interest in dance, just playing around on the dance floor was refreshing.

“Bill WAS serious? I didn’t know you guys rolled like that.” Van looked boyishly mischievous as he spun Wendy around the floor. “Actually, of all the DuBois women, I would have liked it to be you.” He whispered in her ear.

“Oh I would,” Wendy sighed as if this was the most normal request in the world, “but I’d have to charge ten dollars, Sir.” Her eyelids flicked up to gaze at his reaction and she was pleased to see it was something of a cross between disbelief and ‘jackpot!’ She wasn’t sure how Bill’s new rule was supposed to work since he wasn’t that far away and technically she could have asked his permission but she was enjoying the effect, her being so naughty and forward had on Van.

“I think we could arrange that.” He whispered in her ear, now feeling more free to pull her warm body close to his as they danced together.

“Can it wait until after I finish dancing? I’ve got two more songs to go, Sir?” She saw him nodding yes as she felt a surprising tickle run down her back and she spun on her heel.

It was her date from the previous night Sheldon with a big grin on his face. She excused herself from Van and picked up dancing with the young teenage boy. “Am I your Aunt, Sir?”

“Sure, if anyone asks, Aunt Wendy.”

She gave him a mischievous wink as she picked up the pace to catch up to her daughter. The two were often very competitive and this event was bringing it out in her. As she danced more vigorously she had to continue to adjust her suit because her silvered nipple ring kept poking out.

“Having fun, Sir?”

“Not as much fun as you seem to be. Whenever Jamie revvs up, you get even more wild.”

“Oh, I hadn’t noticed Sir?” A week without nightly aerobics, but Wendy wasn’t even winded, despite the provocative dancing she was doing. She had planned to let Jamie win this competition because she had wanted to let her pick the lemonade water bottle. The chocolate bottle was mostly water and a little bit of actual chocolate syrup. The twist was that the water had all at one time been ice cubes that had melted out of her ass and her sweat and tears and she didn’t want to foist that on Jamie.

She noticed Jamie seemed to be bumping and grinding with three much larger boys who were probably football players by the looks of them. Jamie had encouraged them to start slamming into her on the dance floor earlier in the song but now she seemed to be regretting that choice as they tossed her around like a rag doll. Her heart went out for poor sweet Jamie and her predicament.

That was until she said, “What are you looking at old woman?” Jamie called to her over the music with a smirk.

“Oh, old woman is it?” Wendy swiveled her hips like she was dancing with a hula hoop, gyrating and fucking the invisible air while holding Sheldon. She knew some where Victoria Waxerman was probably having a heart attack at the scandalous behavior but she was caught up in her fun competition with her daughter.

Jamie whispered something to the DJ. She was asking him for a song which at first he didn’t seem to want to play. He just shook his head stone-faced. Jamie pulled her monokini suspenders to the side while facing him with her back to the majority of dancers and with that he tapped something into his laptop and “Bubble Pop” came on.

This was the song Chris had insisted they learn to do hummers too. It was mostly Korean but the hook was unmistakably American “ooh boy! Hey boy! Bubble Bubble Pop!” and now Wendy and Jamie were dancing together.

They embraced and tried to look each other in the eyes very sexily but they both started to giggle after about twenty seconds of that. Their bodies were locked together in an embrace while they kept rhythm to the music.

They had plenty of attention from how they were dancing and dressed before this but now they were the highlight of the dance floor as they worked their bodies together in synchronicity to the music.

Wendy was the first one to adjust Jamie’s top so that half of her pink nipples were showing. She had a big cheesy grin as if she were playing a little joke on her daughter while they danced. Jamie returned the favor by pulling her mother’s bikini bottoms higher on her hips so that the crack of the string buried itself in her crotch.

The two could hear some people egging them on “Oh Damn!” and “Get it, Girl!” in the background. The music was sexy and up tempo and the two got caught up in touching and playing with each other until whether by accident or intention they stepped over the side of the pool and landed in the water together. Neither of them could ever be sure if the other had wanted to do it or not, but when they came up for air both weren’t wearing their suits.

Jamie was the first to cover her chest with her hands with a gasp, the hands providing far more protection than the monokini had ever done for her modesty. Her mother didn’t seem to notice at first but she smiled and covered hers as well.

The Waxerman boys may have been the first ones to dive into the pool when people realized they had lost their suits in the fall, getting a good look at their exposed asses in the water. They had been cavorting all night in almost nothing at all, but seeing them stripped of those final inches of bathing suit material was enough to put man and teenager into the water.

With nothing else to say after a pause, “You did that on purpose!” Jamie splashed playfully at her mother returning a hand to her bare chest.

“Me? You were the one who pulled my string off when we fell!” Wendy’s splash was both hands.

The music was just finishing as the two started to accuse each other of pulling off the others suit and splash-cat fighting. There wasn’t a trace of malice in either woman though and it was possible by the end of the fight they had forgotten they were standing in four foot of water completely naked surrounded by about a hundred pool guests.

They might have continued a little longer until Jimmy Waxerman held up an impossible sliver of a wet bathing suit and shouted, “Hey, looking for this?” and turned and ran.

Jamie was the first to launch herself out of the pool after him with Wendy right behind. It might have seem tragic or even despicable if not for the DJ’s perfect timing;

Oh, yes, they call him the Streak

Look at that, look at that
Boogity Boogity!

He likes to show off his physique

Look at that, look at that
Boogity Boogity!

If there's an audience to be found

He'll be streakin' around

Invitin' public critique

Boogity Boogity!

There wasn’t a dry eye that didn’t laugh when the two grown women chased the Waxerman boys around the pool to the funny old 70s music (With Victoria Waxerman being one of the few exceptions). The DJ transitioned perfectly into the Benny Hill saxophone chase music when the initial joke of the Ray Steven’s song had run its course.

Wendy and Jamie were rounding the pool with hands half-covering their crotch and breasts in vain when Victoria put a stop to her boys. “Give them back their suits”

“Do we have ta’, Nah-nah?” Jimmy was already handing back the wet rags to the girls as he asked the question he already knew the answer too.

“Thank you, Ma’am.” Wendy was very polite to Victoria who only snubbed her nose at the woman.

There was gawking as the two women stepped into their bikinis, and if not for the comic timing of a DJ who seemed to understand how to turn what could seem like the end of the laughter into more with a rocking tune;

Oh, she said

Any way you want it

That's the way you need it

Any way you want it

She said, Any way you want it

That's the way you need it

Any way you want it

The Journey song brought memories of the classic moment in Caddyshack when Rodney Dangerfield calls everyone “Let’s Party”, and if it hadn’t, that guy who still quotes old Fletch movies made sure everyone heard HIM say it.

That might have been the talk of the party until next year’s shindig, the most scandalous and wildest thing anyone had seen in person if not for what came next. As fate would have it, Cathy Griffin was chasing a naked Hope Miller out of the bathroom with a make shift cutting board paddle and  a beer bottle right through the pool area and into the parking lot. Hope’s father loping along behind the two of them completely naked and carrying his speedo calling for Mistress Cathy was a scene that even made Mrs. Victoria Waxerman laugh out loud. She’d deny it of course, but if you were there you would have seen it.

The family had come full circle again from where they were a week ago at the entrance to the county fair. Bill had taken Wendy into his arms and gave her a big kiss and told her he was happy she was his wife.

They had learned so much about themselves and each other.

Bill was realizing he couldn’t be perfect but he could try and plan for the obvious things life through his way. He was realizing he would never again be that Adonis football player he was in high school – and that there would always be men who had more, did more, looked better but he had three things they did not. He had Wendy his wife, Chris his son and Jamie his slutty daughter and that was enough for him.

Wendy was realizing she couldn’t be perfect, and she shouldn’t be. She was realizing she had wasted a lot of time on her career and looks and she had missed out on so much she didn’t know about her husband, son and daughter. They were each much more interesting than she had ever imagined. She was able to find a way to not take personally all the sadistic things Bill and Chris had put her through and even find ways to have fun with them.
She had Jamie to thank for so much of that because without her to face these tribulations with she might have folded.

She still wanted to protect and be the guardian angel for Jamie if she could, whether she wanted her to or not. She couldn’t remember if she had wanted her mom to stop looking after her when she was a teenager and let her spread her wings or not, but she thought maybe she had and it was something you forget when you become a mother yourself.

She had chosen the ‘chocolate’ slut squeezins when she won the ‘dancing for stars’ contest. She didn’t say it was to protect Jamie, instead she playfully pretended she was a sucker for chocolate. Chris didn’t question this one bit. He laughed and said, “I knew if I put real chocolate in the water that would get you!” as he pumped his fist in a victory pump.

Wendy had to suck Van’s dick while squatting in the pool shed and he took his time before he finally came in her mouth. She wasn’t going to let Van rub it in that he’d had Wendy, Lisa and Jamie at one time or another. Instead, she made a big show of giving the ten dollars to Bill right in front of Van so he felt more like a trick than a stud.

Chris was having fun at the pool party and he talked to Delilah right up until Mrs. Waxerman announced it was time to get out of this ‘heathen-filled orgy’. He knew she was probably evil in some way but he was fascinated by the girl and for some reason unknown to him, she seemed to be genuinely interested in him.

He had grown in confidence by bossing around his sister and mother this past week. The kind of confidence that relaxes you and makes you feel comfortable with your position and what you know. He had thought power would be stressful – worrying about losing it or what might happen if he made a bad decision.

This feeling wasn’t like that at all. He suspected that confidence had managed to charm Delilah and he looked forward to seeing her again. He still wanted to play his computer games and his X-box and read comic books, but he now had other interests outside of the fantasy worlds he escaped too. He had found a balance.

Jamie had to suck the cocks of Dave, Noah and Thad from the football team at the party. They didn’t have to pay her father because she owed them from the night before. They weren’t too sure they liked the idea of using the pool shed ‘glory hole’ but after she finished loving their cock until they exploded, none of them complained.

She had just finished sucking Sheldon’s cock for ten dollars when she finally saw Bradley Jenkins again.

This time there was no one else around to distract her or pull her away and she could talk to him. She had no pockets to speak of and not only was her hair still wet but her pussy was too. She had been playing with herself in the pool shed and now she had the money she just earned sucking dick in her sticky fingers.

“Hey, the popular one.” Bradley said to her when he noticed her walking towards the party. He had been laughing with some friends when she came up, but turned to give her his full attention.

“Hello Sir, I didn’t see you earlier.” She blinked at him. He had a way of making her nervous in a way that was nothing like the jitters she got from being exposed in front of the community or being punished for being a bad girl -this was excitement jitters, lust jitters, first-crush jitters.

“Yeah, we ducked out of this lame party. My father is here pressing flesh and trying to sell some time shares, and my mom is here to catch up on the latest gossip. I am just here to keep up appearances. I heard you and your mom took a little spill into the pool though, what was that all about?”

“It was an accident, Sir.” She wasn’t sure if it was or not, but she regretted sounding so naïve and dumb. She kept kicking herself to try to sound more mature.

“You both fell in the pool, and you both completely came out of your bathing suits?” His tone said he did not believe it but his broad grin said he was more amused than anything else about it.

“There are some things about me I should probably tell you, Sir.” Jamie said trying to get her confidence up.

“Every time you call me Sir, I can’t help but feel like Peppermint Patti.” He was gregarious and funny and she was absolutely charmed by everything about him. He normally wore his hair in that messy way that you know he took a long time in the mirror to get just so, but Jamie liked it since he’d been in the pool. It had curled up slightly and it was wild and unruly. She drank in his lean tan body and wondered if this was how the dirty old men who drink in her body must feel. She could suddenly understand why they did it.

“That is what I wanted to talk to you about, Sir. There are some things about me you should know.”

“Is this where you quote Pee Wee Herman to me?” he laughed at her as the two found a quiet table by the pool to sit at. “There's a lotta things about me you don't know anything about, Dottie. Things you wouldn't understand. Things you couldn't understand. Things you shouldn't understand.” He said with a dramatic flair.

She didn’t know the reference and she shrugged, her blue eyes twinkling in the light of the pool.

“You don't wanna get mixed up with a guy like me. I'm a loner, Dottie. A rebel. So long, Dott.” And he laughed as he quoted an old movie.

Jamie couldn’t help but think Chris would have known that reference right away. She opened her mouth to say something but no words could come out of her pretty lips.

He looked at her, noticing she was having an awkward time of explaining herself “You are a slave to your brother and father, and they make you go on dates for money, right?” he grinned.

“You knew?” Her face was a mixture of relief and ‘I wish you would have told me you knew!’.

“Yeah, Gerald told me all about it. I didn’t believe it at first, but it all started to make sense. The Sirs and the dog collar, which by the way, I really like this new one, it is very elegant.”

“Thanks, my father wanted to get it engraved with my name on it.” She took the compliment before she realized he was teasing her and slapped him on the shoulder playfully. She became a little more serious “I know it probably sounds really disgusting and Jerry Springerish.”

“Actually,  I was thinking you would make an excellent guest and I scheduled you for next Thursday, how does that work for you, or will you be tied up that day?” he let the double-entendre’ about being ‘tied up’ linger and the two laughed. He asked, “The one thing I don’t really understand is why are you doing this exactly?”

“It is such a long story, Brad.” She decided to take a risk and call him by his first name. Her father and brother were nowhere nearby and he seemed like he didn’t like to be called Sir anyway. “My mother and I did some really bad things - We had the best of intentions.”

“Oh yes, I know how the best of intentions goes.” He prodded her to continue her story.

She explained how it had begun almost as a joke to prod the men into getting in shape and cleaning up after themselves. Things had escalated when Bill and Chris left and went to the motel and they were so desperate to get back they agreed to anything. Her mom and her hadn’t tried to make it sexual but somehow they ended up naked and monitored and it seemed to be keeping the guys in line. Cathy Griffin had even taken Chris off her hands and watched him one day.

“Her brothers are bad news. I went to high school with them.” Brad agreed with her and listened intently as Jamie summarized how they had cuckolded the men and made them clean up and had fun laughing at them.

“Then somehow things got twisted around, and we ended up their slaves.”

“Let me guess, you got in a spaceship, came back to Earth and when you saw the Statue of Liberty (and in his best Charlton Heston impersonation) ‘Oh my God. I'm back. I'm home. All the time, it was... We finally really did it…You Maniacs! You blew it up! Ah, damn you! God damn you all to hell!’ Then he pointed out, “He was named Taylor too!”

Jamie smiled even though she didn’t recognize his Planet of the Apes reference. “My brother would like you.”

“I knew your brother, he was a freshmen when I was a Senior. I liked him.”

“You knew him?”

“Hey, I wasn’t always the coolest guy you know. Yeah, I was a big band nerd and audio/video club.” He admitted with his modest good humor.

“What happened?” she asked

“I guess I blossomed?” He was for the first time uncomfortable with the conversation. He didn’t want to come across too narcissistic.

She was reminded of how often her Mom had used that phrase ‘blossomed in high school’. It didn’t apply to Jamie, she had been attractive all of her life, but she liked that he had that in common with her mother.

She tried to explain the details of what she agreed too with her father and why. She had wanted to repair the family before they got a divorce and give the guys payback that she felt they deserved. The rules had been much tougher but they were designed to address the female condition instead of the male one because the girls would have been able to do most of the things they were after the guys to do (exercise/eat right) without any sacrifice at all.

She explained about the stars and the letters and as she was describing another stipulation Bradley Jenkins bent in close and as natural as could be, kissed her on the lips lovingly. “How many stars do you earn for a kiss, Jamie Taylor?” He whispered in a sexy voice.

She had kissed boys and men during her service but it was always something she dreaded. It was so intimate that she preferred sucking cock to it. She hadn’t told anyone, but the thought of looking them in the eye and opening her mouth to be invaded by someone else seemed far more personal than just massaging their cocks with her tongue.

This was different – it was mutual and it was giving and it felt good.

She smiled and kissed him back and rather than escalate by reaching behind her monokini to touch her nipples or try to dig into her pussy he just caressed her hair and kissed her sweetly.

She wasn’t sure if that meant they were boyfriend and girlfriend. She wondered if he might just be here for a little while before he returned to college. So many men had used her for their own sexual perversions she would not have been surprised but she decided to stop thinking for a while and just go with the flow.

Her father and brother may have known what she was doing but neither of them said a word to her about it or punished her. Jamie liked to imagine that she had earned this time and even if she had been punished it would be worth it.

The party continued until sunset with a lot of people leaving before then. Jamie got to spend time talking and laughing with Bradley Jenkins and not thinking.

Well, she did think about one thing.

Jamie thought to herself that Cathy Griffin wasn't quite right about those five stages she described earlier at the party when she went over how things had gone according to a predictable pattern of denial, anger, negotiation and so on.

Sometimes the negotiation has a happy ending for all parties.

The sun melted on the pool, and the Taylor’s watched it go down. Wendy was in Bill’s lap and Jamie across the pool with Bradley. Chris was still thinking about Delilah and despite the bills, the problems, and all the shit they had gone through for the first time in a long while everyone could say - life was good.

Life was damned good!