Chapter 14

“Okay, Pause,” Patty declared– presumably putting a time-out on their game.

“No pauses. They ruin the game,” Misty seemed frustrated and rejected a direct order from her mother.

“What did you say?” Patty asked in a tone that suggested Misty should consider her next words carefully.

“Patty, if you are going to pause the game, then you can’t expect us to talk to you like our Queen,” Misty said. The other girls didn’t comment, but they seemed to agree with Misty.

Patty cocked her head and gave Misty’s comment some serious consideration. I thought she’d ruthlessly deny it, but she surprised me by appearing not to give a shit about how Misty addressed her. “Fair enough. I just wanted to see what you thought and adjust accordingly. This is a new place. I do not think they’ll kick us out, but we probably can’t go back there tomorrow like this.”

“Oh! We are going back tomorrow, and YOU will have a fresh world’s worst mom displayed on your fat, wrinkled ass, because you ARE the world’s worst mother!” Misty insisted. That sounded hurtful, but Patty took it in stride.

“Back home, we did similar things like this at the community pool, but most people expect it. I wasn’t used to a manager being present. That was kind of touch and go. He could have told us we had to move out, and I like this RV park,” Patty explained. “The girls get to play brats, and then I punish them. The brattier, the more punishment.”

“Doesn’t brattiness defeat the point of the game? They act like brats all the time naturally,” I observed.

“The idea is that in order to do the fun stuff,” Misty explained to me that she had to get the crowd to hate her. “It’s kind of like the WWE. Have you ever watched Wrestling? The evil wrestler starts talking smack, and the crowd likes it when he gets his ass kicked in, but if not – they might feel sorry for him.”

“Yeah, except we are all the evil wrestlers,” Hope added with a smirk. She was talking just like a normal teenager – and usually did during the game.

I had never watched Wrestling but I got the general idea of what the girls were telling me. This was theater and they needed to create a plausible reason for the crowd not to defend the girls while Patty berated them.

“What would you give it?” Patty asked.

“The finger,” Jen held up a middle finger without hesitation.

“One to ten, Rat-face,” Patty chided her daughter for making a joke of the question. The girls had a tradition of rating experiences during their game from one to ten, with one being boring and ten being mind-blowing. At the time, I had no idea what was going on. They used these numbers to improve the process. My Aunt explained that not everything can be a 10- because then they would all be ones. “Do a couple of threes to warm up, start hitting fives and sixes, and maybe finish with a big ten.”

“Ten inches of dick up our asses,” Misty suggested and gave the experience a two. Patty thought that was unfair. “I thought you’d make us feed each other our bananas, and you spank like a fucking girl. You need a paddle!”

I didn’t fully understand Misty’s motivations, but the fact that she wanted her mom to be even more sadistic was turning me on.

“These people would never have believed I would bring a paddle with me to the pool and had it just by coincidence,” Patty said that this wasn’t “Cuntsville”.

“I’ve seen better acting in pornos about pizza delivery guys delivering sausage to co-eds who can’t pay,” Jen sneered and gave it a three. “It wasn’t your best, Mom. I wasn’t nervous or worried. You didn’t seem angry.”

“It’s hard to get pissed. We are in Florida, the sun is shining, birds are chirping, and everything is going well. I’ll turn it up a notch. Okay, Unpause!” Patty abruptly said.

Patty started marching the girls through the camp ground. They got to wear their towels. She told me a story about her and my Uncle Bob taking the girls to Myrtle Beach. They rented a cabin. She told me how they made each other stand in the yard butt naked and extend their arms out in a busy campground. People would ride by, and some asked what they were doing. They had to come up with plausible reasons they were being punished. Patty gave me examples like they shrunk all the bikinis in the wash or got caught sunbathing topless, so they were being taught a lesson.

“The police never came?”

Patty told me that the rules for girls in public nudity are a lot different for men. “If you were naked outside people would think you are a little pervert flashing your ding-dong. You’d be surprised how many ladies run topless on the beach, especially from Europe or Brazil, where they aren’t so repressed!”

Patty imitated a Swedish accent. “Maybe you are Inga, Elsa, and Freya, the girls from Sweden who don’t know they can’t go topless everywhere and act REALLY shocked when someone tells you that you can’t?” she asked.

“I did that yesterday, Ma’am,” Jen said that she was reaching into her mother’s bag of tried-and-true tricks.

Patty decided that idea was out because it had already been completed the day before.

“I liked the hot dog vendor scenario,” I commented. “You didn’t have any backstory. Jen just lined up the girls and started making them lick the table!”

“It’s kind of fun to have a little plausible explanation. We’ve done these enough times that it’s kind of like a game of ad-lib,” Patty explained.

I did not understand. How could they do that scenario in other places? It seemed so spontaneous and unrehearsed. I suppose that was the point of “ad-libbing” though.

“We play off of each other. The worst-case scenario is the people watching call bullshit, and sometimes they do. However, we have been able to play that off too. As an example, yesterday, most people were way too freaked out by our shenanigans at the Hot Dog vendor to actually talk to us. It’s fine to look, but every now and then, we’ll get someone who confronts us. Do you remember the guy who asked if we worked at the strip club?”

“Show N Tails or something?” I nodded to Patty.

“Yeah, well, I thought about saying I was a stripper and my daughters all worked there. I could have made the case that I came home without any money, and my husband insisted that Jen punish us since she earned more than anybody!”

My Aunt told me that in the adult industry, that was pretty standard. “Whores are generally lazy, and we need a little motivation.” My Uncle Bob used to punish her all the time when she didn’t make money as a hooker or a stripper. My Aunt and her daughter seemed to enjoy punishment on their own terms, but I got the impression Patty simply endured this because she thought it was the way things were supposed to be with her husband.

“He’d take my shoes and make me walk around motels. I’d get my ass beat if I even talked to a black guy though. The only problem with lying about a club I’ve never been to was that the guy might have been a regular or work there and ask me who the manager was. Then I’d be stuck and unable to bullshit my way out of it.”

Interesting! That was certainly an unexpected wrinkle to the game. My Aunt did consider herself a “Bullshit Artist” and had frequently mentioned that in casual conversation. There was a certain amount of “Bullshitting” required to play this game. Patty said that they always had to be thinking.

“The general rule of thumb is to follow whoever is IT’s direction, and DO NOT LAUGH WHEN YOU ARE GETTING YOUR BUTT SPANKED,” Patty teased Misty for laughing earlier by lifting her towel in the back and spanking Misty’s bottom a few times.

“Ooh, more, more!” Misty stuck out her butt eagerly and panted hungrily. It was very playful. We were in a public place but no one seemed to notice the playful swats.

“I thought spankings were supposed to hurt? If they feel good, wouldn’t kids break the rules all the time to get them?” I asked.

“We certainly did,” Hope made a wise crack. Jen hit imaginary drums to indicate that was the punch line “Ba-dump-tsssssss.”

“One question at a time,” Patty warned me. “There was also a bitch of a lady that probably called the cops on us. She demanded that I leave Hope alone, so what did you do, Hope?”

“I asked for permission to speak, and then when given, I addressed her calmly and admitted that I volunteered for this treatment and enjoyed it.”

“Yep, can you imagine a group of lying bitches, resorting to the truth? The plan B for every situation where we aren’t sure what lie to use is to tell the truth. We’re doing this because we are pigs who get off on it. It usually stuns them because they didn’t expect it.”

“Half the time, they do not believe me when I say that I enjoy wearing a dog tail and being walked on a leash, Sir,” Hope added. I felt she was pointing out how skeptical I was about it.

“Yeah, or that I love getting my ass kicked and called a dumb tub of lard,” Misty added.

“Can I call you names?” I asked. The sun was starting to rise. Sunsets are beautiful because they fall on the gulf, but in the morning, it can be very bright outside. We had just arrived back at the Winnebago. I was expected to run inside and grab a few things before we went to the beach.

“You mean during the game, Sir?” Misty asked.

“I don’t want to overstep my boundaries, but if you like it, then all the time?” I asked permission to insult my cousins (and Aunt).

“You CAN call all of us names; you CAN call me Patty or Slut if you dare,” Patty said. “The problem with that is two things. The first is people will start to associate you with being the asshole. The risk of being IT and one of the reasons none of us really want to play the villain is that people may not take kindly to you calling Misty a pig-face git even though that is exactly what she is,” Patty reached over and honked her daughter’s nose by squeezing it and then turned it up a little like a pig snout.

“If I walk around doing this to her all the time, people may hate me and sympathize with her. The other thing is that it sends a signal to us, well, at least me. If you start calling me Patty when I am not playing the game – well, It’s hard for me to switch in and out of the role I am in. It’s hard to explain, but I can’t be IT for an hour and then be Cunt-Face and then be IT. I had to smoke a cigarette, drink some coffee, and sort of put on my ass-kicking mentality to do this today,” Patty explained. She patted me on the butt and said that I should grab her smokes off the counter and go grab the bikinis. They told me to throw them into a beach bag.

The girls were waiting for me in the shade under the tattered awning of the RV – so we were off the road. Patty was sitting at the picnic table, but her girls were made to stand in a line and face the door.

“Helper Hunter,” Patty did a play on my name and didn’t particularly like how that sounded. “Hunter the Helper, Helper the Hunter, yeah ... we’ll work on that.” She also said that she was surprised by how quickly I grabbed everything and said her girls only move that fast if there is black cock to sit on around. “I’ve decided that for today, I’d like you to address the girls by their number, code name, or, if you feel uncomfortable, their middle names. No first names for any of them.”

“I know Hope Ann. What are your middle names?” I asked Misty and Jen to tell me theirs.

“See? I told you he’d pick that option,” Jen said to no one in particular.

“Shut up, Rat Face!” I tried calling my cousin by her code name. It felt really wrong to be speaking to a girl like that – even one who wanted to be called rat face. Patty had a natural flow to her insults. Mine just came off like I was a petulant asshole that was being mean.

“We thought you’d ask, so I had them write it down,” Patty twirled her fingers.

The girls executed an about-face maneuver almost at the same time. They lifted their towels in the back to reveal their entire ass. It was broad daylight and the other RV next to us was extremely close. They could have quite easily been seen in the yard. They were smirking and blushing a little because they found this amusing.

“HOPE ANN” was written in striking red letters on Hope’s butt cheeks.

“MISTY GRACE” was on Misty’s ass. The Y and the G disappeared into her massive ass crack. She already had COW spelled out with the O being circled around her asshole. The end result was that her ass read “MISTY GRACE” above the word “COW” to suggest that was my cousin’s “Cow Name”.

I noticed that Misty blushed, looked deeply humiliated and then her pussy began to drip profusely down her thigh -which only humiliated her even more. I couldn’t stop watching her drip as her mother wrote her name on her ass. Misty seemed to CRAVE attention, but also hate it. The more I looked at her, the more she seemed to blush.

“JEN HONOR” was written on Jen’s cheeks, but the word Honor was crossed out, and the words “On Her” replaced it.

Jen explained that her father had started saying, “Jen Honor, Cum On-Her, Piss On-Her, Crap On-Her, Jerk Off On-Her, whatever you want to do, you can do it On-Her,” when he punished her for enslaving her sisters.

“He did to you what you did to them?” It was just now occurring to me that seemed hypocritical. I couldn’t fathom how my Uncle could teach his daughter not to do what he himself was doing.

“Yeah, it’s kind of like, here is a taste of your own medicine; let’s see how you like it?” Jen shrugged. “The problem was that I REALLY liked it. I didn’t at first, but its fun to be on the bottom of the shoe instead of the one stomping the boot. Once I suffered enough humiliation to get some forgiveness, or maybe he just got bored of punishment, he stopped being so hard on me. I started playing the game with Mom because I wanted to keep doing it.”

I still didn’t understand the appeal of being on the bottom of the shoe.

“Okay, I have a suggestion. Just tell them the truth. Nobody gave any crazy dares or lost bets; nobody is from Sweden or Africa where they don’t know they can’t give blowjobs on the beach,” I suggested. It was rather uncharacteristic for me to talk like this, but I felt more at home with them today.

“What do you suggest?” Patty was intrigued. The girls seemed slightly amused. They continued to hold their towels up to expose their bare asses. I was positive someone in the camper next to us had seen them from their window.

“You say your plan B is the truth when there are no other options. What if you have a plan A? Just tell anyone that asks that you get off on this, and you asked your mom to tease you and make you do these things consensually.”

“We like to change it up because it’s kind of fun to see what we can get away with, but it’s boring to do the same things,” Patty said as she considered what I said. “Plus, we’ve told people about the game that we’ve known for five years. The neighbors all know that Hope likes to pretend to be a dog and everything. Not everybody understands, but most accept it. They still do not believe that the girls and I take turns and enjoy it. The more plausible lie is a little easier for some to swallow.”

The girls were STILL holding their towels UP and sticking their butts out while we held this ad-hoc conversation. A golf cart went riding by. If the guy saw them, he didn’t stop.

“Yeah, we are probably getting kicked out tonight,” Patty concluded with a shrug of acceptance. “We can try it your way, Hunter, but on two conditions?”

I asked her what they were.

“Oh, look at this one. He’s smart enough to find out what he is agreeing to before he agrees,” Patty looked right at Misty to suggest that she didn’t have that common sense. “The first condition is you can’t stand there like you don’t know us. Your body language suggests we are holding you hostage, and you want to get away.”

The other girls nodded politely.

I chuckled a little – that was constructive feedback. I hadn’t realized that I was doing that until they mentioned it.

“You have to engage with us and be honest as well. You can’t participate in the game, but that doesn’t mean you should act like a zombie.”

I nodded.

“The other condition, and don’t take this the wrong way because I do kind of like your suggestions. This is not YOUR game. We’ve been playing for a long time, and we do it our way because it works for us. We do tell the truth we run out of options, so it isn’t like it’s a big change, but why don’t you hold your suggestions until you’ve run around with us a few weeks? We have to drop you off before South Dakota, but there is a lot you haven’t seen yet and still don’t understand.”

“Absolutely, I was just trying to be helpful...” I began. She cut me off and said she knew I was, or she wouldn’t have accommodated me. “I can’t say what we’ll do tomorrow. That will be the Princess’s call. She may not even want you as a helper. You understand that, right?”

I felt bad because I liked the idea of having some kind of job. I wasn’t a ‘participant.’ I envisioned myself more like a ball boy at a professional tennis game – there to keep things running but not steal the show.

“Starting out with the truth? I guess there go my scenarios where I spank you for back talk in front of big crowds or say you lost a bet.”

I felt guilty that I had made a suggestion. That wasn’t what they asked me to do. “I shouldn’t have interfered. You are right. You know what works for you guys, and I am sure a lost bet is a very plausible reason for a lot of the things you do!”