Chapter 67

SUNDAY OCTOBER 20th, 2047 –BEFORE DINNER

Our house became a truly “Male-led” household. Men were above women in all things, and we deferred to them for everything. We had no privacy, no authority, and we were there to serve, amuse and be useful by earning money from using our holes or providing some benefit to the house while the men enjoyed leisure.

Women had no say in our house, and we were treated much like house pets.

That may not be a fair comparison, though. You walk some pets on leashes and put them in cages. You own them, and you control them.

However, Julie had asked the guys to do things to us you would NEVER do to a pet, like fuck it in the ass whenever you felt like it. She had opened the door to allowing them to tease us and degrade us by saying they could if they wanted to do it.

You don’t hate a pet. You love it and protect it. They loved me and protected me. I was loyal to them. However, we had an unspoken understanding that they could also treat me like I had done something wrong and betrayed them or that I deserved to be treated like a dumb bimbo. I like to believe that was because they knew I was learning to love that treatment.

It was like I was living out a fantasy – I was the luckiest bimbo in the Program. I even felt guilty over how much attention and focus they were spending on me. When I was a boring housewife, my kids rarely spoke to me unless it was to ask for dinner, and my husband and I were in a largely sexless marriage.

That felt to me like the natural order of things. All was right in my world. I was in harmony and happy with my choices, despite the nagging feeling that I shouldn’t have been allowed to make choices in the first place.

It seemed so long ago that I was in Julie’s high school for the first time this year, signing the papers to enter the Program as a Breeder. My regret was that Jim wasn’t the only one authorized to make that decision for me, and I was never consulted about whether or not I should be in the Program.

I was puzzled as to why it was clear to me now that when you surrender to men, there is harmony in the house. There is no bickering or arguments, and you are liberated from decisions. I felt like I was getting the better of the deal because the men still had to make choices, and I had none.

I knew I hadn’t felt that way when I started the Program, or I would have insisted that Jim sign the papers for me. I just couldn’t remember why I hadn’t realized it back then.

It was truly Jim and Dewey who seemed to ENJOY having the freedom to talk down to us, patronize us, call us dirty names, and humiliate us. The new rules opened a new world for both of them.

I never knew that Jim would enjoy that freedom. I don’t think I would have minded it before the Program if he had told me he liked it. It was so hard to remember how I felt before I started the Program. All I knew was that it excited me when Jim treated me with contempt, and the more he taunted me and called me a fat-ass bimbo with huge jugs, the more I felt he was superior to me in every way and he was right to joke about how much I could fit up my ass and how horny it made me be treated like scum.

Dewey, on the other hand, was a little more complex. He liked to paint us up like clowns and make us act like dimwits. His favorite things included making us sniff each other’s farts, even though he could order me to eat my daughter’s asshole. He loved butt stuff – and stretching our assholes out to obscenely wide proportions was almost like science experiments to see how much pain and humiliation we could endure.

I had yet to find a limit to what I would do. There were times Julie wanted to knock his block off; I was certain of that, but she complied with every order and instruction. Dewey seemed interested, most of all in pushing his sister’s buttons to test just how far that could go. He made her call ex-boyfriends, including the guy from the grocery store and begged them to watch her be humiliated. He made her ask the yearbook staff to replace her photo with a picture of her with obscene words written all over her body.

He made us admit we were dumb cunts, stupid fucks, cock sucking whores to strangers, neighbors, and just about anyone he could find that knew Julie before she joined the Program. He called it an “Affirmation” of what we were. Julie knew he was trying to break her resolve to continue allowing him to jerk her around by making her say things she may not believe about herself, but she let him do it anyway because I think she wanted to test herself.

I loved it, though. It was fun being spit on, stepped on, having my boobs slapped, and even pissed on. There was a novelty to it for me. I couldn’t wait to see what new perverted activity they were going to think up next to inflict upon me. I never said no; I was never asked if I wanted to participate.

I felt like only a few weeks ago, Jim used to ask if I could handle another round of Pop the Booty because my ass and tits were sore from the last time they tied me to a pole and teased me. Now, he just led me by my nose, or my nipples, or even my clit to somewhere he wanted me to be, and I followed willingly all the way.

I loved it most of all when my husband shamed me because of the enormous size of my ass and tits, it made me feel inferior to him, and a part of me knew he was always smarter than me anyway. I felt like because he had the cock, he SHOULD be making the choices.

Reese, on the other hand, had fun with our new rules, but he may have had fun with a much lighter version of them. I was glad that Jim and Dewey were able to embrace it and push our limits while having a blast making us behave like cum sucking nymphomaniacs. The more they pushed my buttons, the more I wanted it.

I wished he enjoyed the new rules even more, like his father and brother, but it was not for me to tell him what to do. He did seem to like visiting a little revenge on Julie for sibling rivalries from the past, but Julie stoically endured whatever Reese wanted her to do for him without complaint.

I slightly regretted not having done anything to them before the Program that they could throw in my face as a good reason to punish me the way that Crabby’s kid’s did. I just wouldn’t have wanted to be an unpleasant bitch in order to get my jollies by being treated this way now.

It was a thrill ride with no brakes! Every few minutes felt like a new adventure in humiliation.

I think the guys kept waiting for me to reach a point of frustration or anger, but I couldn’t. Even Julie seemed surprised by my enthusiasm for the new rules.

After a grueling Sunday of being spanked, bound on the floor, getting two enemas, made to run behind Jim’s truck, and having lots and lots of sex, Julie discovered a few things she felt were truly punishments.

That had included having food packed into her mouth and up her nose and being forced to spit it into my mouth or eat it off the floor. Having table scraps blended into a slimy paste and then poured into a funnel in her mouth. Reese’s “planking” torture when we stood up against the wall and were spanked hard all over our bodies. Julie was really stoic about things like that. The boys rubbed her nipples raw sometimes, and she just took it without complaint. She didn’t look like she enjoyed it at all, but I liked it when they pulled my tits and poked them.

I’d get milk everywhere, and they usually make me and my daughter lap it up.

We both started drinking the protein shakes from the bottle. Julie said it was only for Breeders in the Program, but my father said that it tasted like ass, and it was free food, so she should just swallow it like the jizz she sucked out of a stranger’s cock, and Julie complied.

The first time she drank it, Julie made a nasty, disgusted face. That was surprising considering she had grown accustomed to eating leftover cold turkey bits mixed with corn pops, bacon gristle, raw eggs, bits of dry toast, and whatever else we had in the Tupperware bowl in the fridge.

“It’s an acquired taste, like piss,” I told her as I sucked mine down slowly and let it flow down my throat. It was so viscous that it coated my throat and took a long time to get down.

As far as Jim was concerned, the Program provided enough of the powder to make it for free, and he wasn’t going to waste it. He also said it had protein, and some of the leftovers probably weren’t enough nutrition for us even with all the cum we swallowed on top of that.

Julie thrived in the male-led house even though she was only experimenting to see how it felt.

Jim tested that by making jog behind his car slowly shaking her ass and tits while he stopped anytime he saw someone walking down the street to ask if they wanted to fuck her for twenty bucks.

She accepted being publicly humiliated wearing a dunce cap, being used as a footstool, or a chair by her brothers, being farted on, or having her food farted on, and most of the other things the guys did to us during the day. She thought getting an enema was helpful to keep her cleaned out, and she saw nothing wrong with shitting or pissing outside because it was perfectly natural. She didn’t like cleaning up her own mess with her hands, but she wouldn’t admit that she didn’t like any of these things.

I had to admire her tenacity. It was a fantasy for me, it may have been a nightmare for her, but if it was, she didn’t let on.

There wasn’t anything that I didn’t want to do, and I never called any of it a punishment. There were times I would get worn out, reamed out, and used so hard that I wanted to cry, but I was thrilled to see what they would do to my next and kept going through the pain.

There were times I was made to fuck myself for hours by sitting on the stool in the living room and fucking both holes that I would get tired. I wouldn’t respond to orders quickly enough. There were times I’d get distracted and horny and didn’t listen to what I was ordered to do and asked to have it repeated or simply forgot to follow instructions. I knew I DESERVED to be punished, and the guys certainly tried to punish me.

I just enjoyed the experience so much, that I was flattered they’d go to such extremes to discipline me. I tried to behave, but freely admit that I made mistakes and needed to be punished for it. Julie saw how frustrated the guys got trying to use punishments as a deterrent for my bad behavior. She told me to think of them as “attitude adjustments” that were being applied all day to keep me from having a big ego and seeing myself at the same level as men.

That worked for me. I suggested that the guys routinely spank me and not wait for me to fuck up to deserve one. I suggested that if they consistently flogged or beat me every four hours at home that would humble me and remind me that I was just a cum gobbler who did not deserve respect, and more than that, I should be ridiculed and degraded.

Jim said that if he punished me like that, I would never know what I did wrong and learn from my mistake. I told him that I probably did something wrong during those four hours, and that would just be a maintenance spanking to keep me in line. He kissed me on the lips and told me that he loved me and wished we had done this earlier.

I was just being honest with him. I didn’t tell him that I wished they would beat me harder, because I didn’t want to make them feel guilty about it. I knew that on some level they thought they should be merciful to me when I hadn’t done anything wrong that they noticed.

I joked that I may have to start screwing up, just to see if I could get on their nerves. Jim tied up my tits so tight that they turned purple, and he made me scatter dried rice on the tile and kneel on it while licking his asshole for that. I assumed it was a punishment for suggesting I might intentionally break the rules, but he never told me.

I didn’t start screwing up intentionally, though. I made enough mistakes accidentally. I just wished the guys would be a little more severe with me at times because it always felt like they were being too easy on me for mistakes that I made.

As an example, I scraped some bones from Jim’s leftover pork chop into the garbage after I was cleaning up from the dinner that I had prepared. There was just some gristle and a few bits of meat on it.

“Aren’t you supposed to save ALL leftovers so you and Crap Pocket can eat it off the floor like the cunts you are?”

“Yes, Master!” I jumped. I knew I had fucked up right then and started to reach for the pork chop, but he slapped my hand away from the trash.

“That was a leftover; why did you scrape it into the trash? Don’t you know that so-called Miss Julie told you before she admitted she was just a dumb little cum swallower to save everything in the fridge, so we don’t waste money on fresh food for you two?

“Yes, I made a mistake, Sir! I am a dumb cow,” I admitted.

“I know WHAT you are. You lick stranger’s salty assholes and drink piss like it’s Gatorade. You don’t need hot food that taste good, because you are used to eating jizz out of your daughter’s sweaty cunt. Was that pork chop not good enough for you?”

“There wasn’t hardly anything left on it, Jim!”

My husband slapped me hard across the face to get my attention and it forced my head to the side. I smiled and thanked him for reminding me not to call him by only his first name. He rarely slapped my face but when he did, I squirted pussy juice all over my thighs automatically.

“I slapped you because you weren’t answering the question you were asked. You were going on about why you threw it away. I asked if it was good enough for you?”

“Yes, Sir!”

“Then get it!”

I started to reach in the trash, past some coffee grounds and a rotten tomato that was so old that even Jim wouldn’t have made me eat it. My husband smacked my hand and told me to put my entire face in the trash and pull it out with my teeth so that I learn not to waste food.

I bent over, stuck my ass out and pushed my face through the trash, past some egg shells, that tomato and some used napkins, and clenched the bone with my teeth to pull it back out. “You look good ass up, face down in the garbage,” he laughed and smacked my ass. Jim pushed my head down a little further in the trash and told me to get a whiff so I won’t forget that it’s not up to me to decide if the food is worthy of going in the Tupperware and to ask a man if I don’t know what to do.

Once he allowed me to stand up, I held the pork chop in my mouth and stood there naked, quivering, expecting to be punished for my wrong doing.

All he made me do was crawl outside with it, take it to the street and gnaw on the bone until it was clean of all the meat and gristle, and then crawl back inside and show him that I had eaten it all.

He was very forgiving. If he had asked me, I would have told him that he was far too merciful and that he should have at least made me shove the tomato in my ass so that it hung half way out, and then beg our neighbors the Johnsons to come watch me degrade myself on the street so that I learn not to waste food or think I know better than men about what I am capable of eating. They probably would have laughed about it.

I didn’t want to seem needy or talk back to him and suggest he wasn’t right about how hard I should have punished, so I just did what I was told, and hardly anyone outside who drove by even slowed to see what I was doing by the road in front of our home.

I had a whole new respect for Crabby. There were times I wanted to cry and sob or rub my ass and beg for mercy, and sometimes I did. However, I kept my ass up and let it remain a target when they spanked me.

I didn’t intend to frustrate the guys; I just didn’t see any of this as a potential punishment for wrongdoing. It seemed like something they could do to me anytime they wanted.

The guys had grown more intense in their quest to find ways to humble us or inflict pain. They had started with silly games and kept us busy for most of the day.

Dewey told us to decorate our hair with ribbons, put on make-up, and push the handle of a hairbrush in our asses like the one Brunna had for a tail. He needed my daughter’s help to tie me up so that my hands were behind my back and around my tits and through my legs in a very fancy double braid that left me chafing and made each step tighten around my twat or my tits depending on whether I lifted my leg or stepped down.

Then, they tied a rope around my collarbone and across my shoulders so that I could pull several heavy buckets filled with water. I’d imagine I was pulling 20 gallons or more of water in four buckets. He did the same thing to Julie with her help and guidance and marched us around the backyard with a riding crop that is used on horses.

It felt appropriate; I was increasingly feeling less like a house pet and more like cattle or livestock to be paraded around for others to laugh at. I turned off what little of my brain was thinking about my situation and remained in the moment - savoring it.

We both thought that was for his entertainment and not a punishment. He even attached my weights to my nipples and clit and got the toilet brush from inside the house to shove up my ass. He left it sticking out like a tail. I wished he had pushed the brush end into my butt, but I understood why he liked it hanging out because it made me look like a poodle.

It took Dewey longer to untie us and not cut the rope than it had to tie us up in the first place. Julie struggled not to give him advice on how to do it. I could tell it was eating her up that Dewey was fumbling around and clueless. I whispered to her “He’s a man, and this is a male-led house. Be patient and let him figure it out without trying to teach him.”

“Thanks, I know,” Julie whispered her response with a frown. Dewey went inside to get a better knife and left us outside.

We were sweaty and hot and joked that waiting outside like this was a punishment by itself. It was hot in Arkansas for October. The grass made my ass itch, and I couldn’t scratch myself, which was a torture in itself – strangely, all of it aroused me even more.

My neighbor Mrs. Johnson stopped by and laughed at us lying in the ground. “You know there’s all kinds of bugs down there?” she quipped.

“Yes Ma’am”

“Are you two having fun or is this for something you did wrong?”

“I am not sure, Ma’am. We do a lot of things wrong. I guess Dewey will tell us when he gets back from the kitchen with a sharper knife.”

“He’s not going to stab you with it is he?”

“I don’t think so,” I snickered. I doubted any of my family would ever go that far.

“I’ll leave you two to your fun or punishment, I would never do anything that unseemly or degrading, but I can’t get over how much you are glowing. You are starting to show! It won’t be long before you have a new baby!”

“Yes Ma’am,” I agreed.

“Don’t forget that you that next week, you are supposed to mow our grass again. I hope you do a better job than last time. We noticed several spots you missed.”

“Please tell my husband so that I will be punished.”

“I will!”

“My daughter can join me when I mow it,” I offered. Sweat was rolling off my tits, and I felt one of those creepy caterpillars climbing up my ass cheeks. There wasn’t much I could do about it. I was bound and completely helpless.

“I am off to enjoy some nice cool air conditioning. It’s way too hot to be out here today. I hope you girls go inside soon,” Mrs. Johnson waved at us and walked away laughing as she did about how foolish I must be to allow my sons to treat me this way.

The joke was on her; I felt she was dumb for putting on airs and not asking to join us. I don’t hate my neighbor at all, but she’s a woman like me and should be serving her husband.

Julie chided me for offering her services, which brought me back to the reality of my situation: being tied up with her and my ass packed with a toilet brush.

“What? You are like me now; we are on the same level; shouldn’t you have to mow grass?” I asked. I knew we wouldn’t be paid for mowing the grass, and we should be contributing to the household funds, but Jim probably wanted us to do it as a favor. I did not remember ever agreeing to mow her grass, but I assumed that I was going to have to do it when she mentioned it.

“I am still YOUR boss, don’t offer my help. I offer yours!” Julie was tied up, and she asked Dewey’s permission to spank me after he finished untying us.

“What if I don’t let you?” Dewey chuckled. He let her spank me on the pussy outside and made me apologize to Ms. Johnson for speaking out of turn. Julie told her she’d have to ask her Daddy’s permission to help because they may need her at home.

I could tell that Julie was rethinking her suggestion that we have a male-dominated household. It seemed like her resolve to continue this experiment was starting to wane.

I felt there were parts she liked very much or at least found to be a learning experience. I knew the guys loved it and wouldn’t want to return to the way it was before. She was simply having a tough time being my Trainer AND switching back into a submissive mindset. It was not as easy when a boss has a boss. She was used to doing what she wanted when she wanted it, and the seams in this plan were starting to materialize and tear.

After Dewey finally cut us loose, he didn’t remove the brush from my ass, so I left it there after he hosed us down and went inside to clean the house.

We cleaned up the trash the guys left around the house that had been made while we were outside, and I taught Julie to use the vacuum cleaner. Jim told me to stick the vacuum in my pussy and turn it on. That felt amazing.

At first, I tried to fuck the handle, but he wanted me to put the hose in my pussy and let it suck my pussy out. He flicked all the different intensity settings up and down and laughed when my eyes opened wide every time it felt like my clit was going to be pulled completely off.

“You shouldn’t let me be a nasty slut and get myself off, Master!!” I begged as I creamed all over my thighs while I fucked the vacuum hose for his amusement.

I could tell that Jim was a little confused by my reaction. I guess he expected me to be reluctant or to protest the things he wanted me to do. However, I enjoyed doing everything, and if I were going to be honest, I wouldn’t feel that any of it was punishment. It was like living a waking dream – a constant fantasy in reality.

He eventually got frustrated after I fucked my asshole with it at the highest setting. I begged him to punish me for having an orgasm, but I don’t think he did. He made me use my mouth to clean the carpet while I was on my hands and knees and left the hose running in my ass until I finished.

I only wished I had thought of cleaning the house that way a long time ago.

At dinner, Jim blended up many of the leftovers I had saved and poured them into our mouths like a viscous syrup with the funnels. They watched as we sputtered and choked and spit some of it down our tits because we couldn’t swallow fast enough.

Jim and the guys weren’t wearing pants. That was great for me because I loved seeing who got a boner after they did something like that to me. He stood up and asked me, “What if I pissed in your funnel?”

I wasn’t sure why he asked me. He didn’t have to ask me anything. They just told me to do things or made me do them physically without asking.

I didn’t say anything because all I could do was make gurk noises with the funnel. I left my face where it was like a target. I didn’t pull away even when it looked like he was going to piss into the funnel. If he wanted to do it, I wouldn’t say no.

He pissed on my eyes and into the funnel and waited for my reaction. My brain was elsewhere; all I could think about was swallowing every drop and not letting it spill on his shoes if some of it splattered.

I closed my eyes and then blinked them open again and waited. Jim wasn’t aiming very well, or he was intentionally spraying my eyes. He continued as my sons watched me behave like a loving piss whore.

If I hadn’t had the funnel shoved down my throat, I would have been smiling and holding my mouth open as wide as I could. My sons thought it was funny to block off my nose for about ten seconds while the funnel drained in my throat, and I worked to keep up with it by swallowing repeatedly as fast as I could so they wouldn’t think I wasted any of it.

If I had, I would have lapped it off the floor if they allowed me to clean it that way.

I only wished that the guys had blocked off my nose about 10 seconds longer each time they made it so that I couldn’t breathe. I’d have really been terrified and spasm and choke for them. I wouldn’t have drowned; they would never go that far.

I was so fucking horny that I could have fucked an entire high school marching band. I wished the Program would breed me again and let every boy at school take a turn in one session. That was my becoming my nastiest fantasy! I’d have so much cum packed up my ass, pussy, and mouth and be so worn out that I would finally be satiated and no longer constantly craving cum -at least for an hour or two.

Jim finally pulled the funnel from my mouth, and I puked up a little piss and snot all over my chin. He asked me later what I thought about that experience at the dinner table while we were eating as a family: girls on the floor and men in chairs and comfort above us.

Some of the piss had sprayed our food, I didn’t mind. It wasn’t very tasty anyway.

“As long as you get it all over me and not all over the floor, I think it’s fine,” I looked at the thin puddle of piss collecting around my thighs and on my food. “I don’t mind any of that. I just worry some will get on your shoes or pants.”

“You mean piss in your mouth as entertainment?”

“Sure, you guys did it yesterday as part of a game, and I only said the B-word because I am a clueless bimbo. I missed out on the rest of the game! I haven’t drunk piss very much, but I don’t mind if you do that. I hope it turned you on, Master!”

“Julie?” Jim didn’t piss on her. He was asking what she thought.

“As long as you don’t shit in our food, I am fine with cum and piss, Master.”

Julie’s reaction wasn’t as enthusiastic or encouraging as mine. She continued eating off of the floor, hands behind her back, and barely looked up when she answered casually as if it were the most mundane thing anyone could ever do.

Dewey and Reese pissed on our butts right after that. They aimed right for our assholes, so we used our hands to hold our ass cheeks apart and continue to chew our food face down on the floor like two cows grazing on a ranch.

Their piss cascaded down our thighs and onto our food and made a huge mess that we’d have to mop up later. It was everywhere in the kitchen by the time it was done. I was more concerned about the pee getting in the baseboards than I was myself. They hosed us off outside after we mopped up and started to give us another enema.

“What’s that on your foot, Piggy? Is that a rash from the grass?” Jim noticed my ant bites. I admitted to him that they were ant bites.

“Did that happen when you were pulling those buckets around the backyard when Dewey couldn’t get you untied because he tied so many double knots?” he glared at Dewey for allowing me to get bitten by ants.

“No, Sir, it’s entirely my fault. This morning, I wanted to see how it felt to get bitten by ants, and I intentionally stepped in a few.”

“Why in the fuck would you do that, Piggy?” Jim asked in consternation. I was sorry he was worried about it. Pain was becoming a regular part of my life, and enduring it was both a pleasure and a reminder that I was there for their amusement. If it amused them to make me uncomfortable or slap me, I wanted them to feel free.

“I am a dumb bimbo; why do I do anything?” I joked. He wanted a real answer, so I explained that he pretended to throw ants on Julie during the game last night. I wondered what it would feel like to have real ants bite me and if I could handle it.

“I would NEVER do that to either of you. That was just to get her to say Banana.”

“It was an experiment; I am sorry for doing it without permission. I think about 25 ant-bites could be a reasonable punishment. You were looking for something you could use when I screw up as a deterrent to future fuck ups. My foot has stung and been throbbing all day, and I definitely didn’t enjoy it. I wouldn’t want you to make me sit in ants for entertainment, so that could also be a punishment.”

“You’d sit in ants?”

“As a punishment if I do something particularly wrong, yes, Master. If you want, I wouldn’t presume to know what is best for me.”

Jim thought I was nuts, but I assured him that my intention wasn’t to be a brat. “I don’t want to break any rules intentionally to be reminded of my place in this house. There will be times I get lazy or forget my place, and I guess this would be enough of a shocker to make me think twice and take things more seriously.”

He didn’t make me sit in ants, and we didn’t discuss it further. Jim seemed to think I had lost my mind, and maybe I was losing it. I knew for certain I was deathly afraid of Arkansas fire ants and had been since I was a little girl and accidentally got bitten by a few. I wasn’t even sure why I had performed the experiment on myself any longer. I just knew that it seemed like something that I was afraid of could be used against me and I wanted to equip my husband with something that wouldn’t frustrate him when he tried to teach me a lesson.