Chapter 70

November 15th, 2047 –Friday Night

My daughter and I were still serving at home, but Julie was increasingly not doing anything to obey her brothers at school. She had continued using the toilet at school and was doing it more to avoid having to shit on the lawn like the dumb whores we both were.

Julie distanced herself from Misty and focused on training me. She stopped going as frequently. She still obeyed at home, but it seemed as though she had her fill of being teased and forced to eat dog food.
She and Jeremy broke up (obviously). They weren’t ever really dating.

My husband decided to take us to Wright Avenue one night. He had taken Julie down there a few times recently with me and always made sure we worked like a tag team. Julie kept an eye on me, and I kept an eye on her.

I think he noticed Julie’s waning interest in the male-dominated house and wanted to see whether or not changing things up would renew her interest or make her decide to ask to stop altogether.

He didn’t ask if we wanted to work as whores that night. He just told us to get in the back of his work pickup truck and lay down on top of one another. I got on the bottom, and my daughter laid down on top of me and started making out. I kissed her back. Jim didn’t tell us that we had to do that, so it was a good sign that Julie wanted to be nasty to me.

“You dumb whores, have fun!” Jim closed up the back gate and drove across the bridge into downtown. It was still light out. Jim frequently alternated between his work truck and his car. He could have also taken my old car because Reese and Dewey were both forbidden to drive after the dance. Even though Dewey got his brother home safely, Jim wasn’t sure either of them should be entitled to drive.

I was never consulted on the decision, nor should I have been.

There used to be a library and a public school across from the liquor store where we stopped on Wright Avenue. It was a dirty motel now that didn’t charge much money. A lot of prostitutes lived there full-time. Julie had been with me several times, and we worked together exclusively. Jim liked us to fuck together because he felt it was much safer.

He pulled into a Church’s Fried Chicken on 14th Avenue just before he got to Wright Avenue to grab a bite to eat. He liked to do that. He said their chicken was better than KFC.

“Get out, you dumb whores,” Jim said as he hit the back of the truck. I knew that Jim didn’t think Julie was dumb at all. I also knew he loved us both. Julie had asked him for new rules and told him he could call her names and treat her the way Danny Gibbons might. Jim was doing what she asked. He expected us to hop over the truck gate and get out.

“You already called us dumb whores earlier, Daddy,” Julie smiled as she stepped out completely naked, with no shoes or anything. She just had her red collar and matching little purse with a few personal items in it, including her Randall Ellington Dildo and a small riding crop.

“Who gives a fuck? I am not here to entertain you, Shit Pocket. You are here to earn, right?”

“Yes, Daddy, I thought you don’t like to repeat your names for us, is all.”

“You thought? That’s your number one problem, Whore Pocket. Thinking too much. You are here to fuck, not think!”

A family was getting out of their car. The parents were younger than us, and the kids were around Dewey’s age. They looked up at us like we were lunatics. They seemed like friendly people, fully dressed.

“Take a picture; it’ll last longer,” Jim said to them. I felt terrible for them because they were aghast by my husband’s crude reaction and our nudity. They seemed so normal. I identified with the mother. She looked like she was going to be a homemaker and live a boring life. At least, I recognized how I used to act in her.

Jim brought us into the chicken place with him so he could have something to eat. He usually let us suck on his scraps while we squatted at his feet.

He ordered something for himself while we stood behind him on either side. He liked it when we flanked him. He put one of his hands on each of our butt cheeks while he waited and drummed with his fingers.

“Daddy, can I have my own tonight?” Julie asked while watching her father eat from the floor.

“Your own what? Gang bang?”

“No, my own chicken meal, a two-piece?”

“Whores don’t eat fresh food. You eat table scraps. Isn’t that right, Piggy?”

I didn’t want to throw my daughter under the bus, but I agreed. “That’s right, Daddy. We are beneath men and don’t waste food.”

“I know, Daddy, but I am really hungry, and I didn’t eat dinner. I’d just like to have a normal meal for a change.”

“You can fill up on jizz if you do your job. Normal for you is eating a chicken bone out of your mother’s asshole, Cunt Pocket.”

Jim’s turn came before the cashier, and he ordered something for himself, as he always did. The cashier wasn’t shocked by us. He had seen us in the store before. A few employees and customers glanced at us. I didn’t care if they ogled me.

My daughter seemed dejected as she stood there behind him. I wanted him to slap her right there in the fast-food restaurant in front of everything. She was acting stuck up as far as I was concerned. If she wasn’t going to tell him she wasn’t willing to serve in a male-led house, then I thought she should at least try to behave.

A nice man behind us overheard and said that he’d pay for her meal. He had been staring at my daughter’s butt. I wanted to pull her ass cheeks apart and show him her butt plug so he could have a good look, but I wasn’t sure if that would piss off my husband or not.

“It’s not that I don’t have money, Sir,” Jim turned to him and politely thanked him for the offer. “It’s that my wife and daughter are in a special training Program in the NIS, and Piggy has a restricted diet.”

However, Jim abruptly changed his mind when he saw my daughter pout. I felt she was manipulating him into feeling sorry for her. I didn’t say anything because Julie was still my Trainer.

“What the heck, okay,” Jim stroked Julie’s hair magnanimously and gave in.

“Thank you, Daddy!!” Julie jumped up and down, and her perfect little boobies flopped up and down as she tugged his arm excitedly.

“I suppose you want a two-piece as well, Piggy?”

“No, Master. I don’t deserve fresh food. If you want to order a little extra, I’ll nibble on it when you are done. I had my protein shake before we left the house.”

“Give me two extra chicken meals. Make them two pieces each; the ladies like dark meat,” he grinned. I was shocked that my husband was that generous to me after all the times I had eaten on the floor in front of him. He ordered us mashed potatoes with gravy, and when the guy asked what we wanted to drink, Jim let us decide.”

“A COKE!” Julie said she missed those so much since the new rules. She largely drank water, but she had a fair amount of piss and cum. Julie also drank protein shakes for meals at home.

“What about you, Piggy?”

“Just water, please,” I thanked my husband.

“Suit yourself,” Jim smiled at me. He found a table, and I waited at the counter to carry our order to the table. I grabbed napkins and waited. Two young black boys kept looking at my big butt.

“You can look all you like,” I smiled at them warmly. It was flattering to be ogled by men of any age.

I was secretly excited to have fresh, fast food, but I also had feelings of guilt. My diet consisted mainly of jizz, water, protein shakes, and cold leftovers, just like my daughter, and that’s all I had known for months. Julie made sure I had fruit and veggies that were prescriptive, but even those were usually wilted, mushed up, or stuffed up my ass first.

“You ladies can both sit down,” Jim offered us a seat in the booth with him. We’d squatted before in the fast-food restaurant. I was surprised and hesitant.

“Don’t you eat school lunch every day, Cunt Pocket?” Jim asked.

“Yes, but that gets really old. This is fresh food!! Thank you, Daddy!”

“Now, hold on, I paid for that. I want you both to take your drumsticks out and hold them up. I want you to learn to appreciate what you are given and think about your place in this house as women. Go on.”

“Daddy!” Julie complained and scrunched her nose. We both took ours out. I smiled because I felt like I knew what he wanted us to do with them.

“I want you to stand up in your seat, spread your legs and shove those completely up each other’s asses ass, tip first!” Jim said it firmly but in a polite way that sounded sarcastic.

I pulled my ass cheeks apart and plucked my butt plug out, cleaned it with my mouth and set it on the table. It was cold and gross, but I had food scraps stuffed up my ass at home. The boys nearby who admired my body were laughing in disgust.

I turned my head slightly and saw the two black boys with their parents. Their mouths were agape in shock. It was legal to take my butt plug in and out in public, though, just like it was in high school. The white family that had seen us walking in was also stunned. I felt they shouldn’t watch if they didn’t want to see us. They knew we were sluts when they saw us earlier.

It was right of them to ridicule me, and while I felt ashamed, I also felt that Jim had done what he had to do to prevent Julie and I from getting too uppity and believing we could manipulate him into treating us differently than we deserve.

Julie reluctantly slid the greasy chicken up my ass. I felt my pussy drip as I sat back down at my husband’s direction. Julie had removed her own butt plug and was holding her ass cheeks apart so that I could fuck the chicken leg into her ass. I had to push a few times and masturbate it first, but I managed to stuff it in with only a little of the bone sticking out of her sphincter.

I heard one of the black boys at the table near us make a farting noise when I shoved it up my daughter’s ass by placing his hands on his face and blowing into them. It was extra humiliating, and my daughter blushed, while a small tear formed on her face.

That would teach her not to beg her father for special treatment when she hadn’t earned any.

“Now, I want you to take your drink lids off. Go ahead.”

Julie knew what was coming next, and so did I. We did it anyway. My husband told us to pour it slowly over our heads and let it fall all over us. I smiled as the ice ran down my head, shoulders, tits, and onto my legs.

“You’ll clean that up, but first, I want you to take the final piece of chicken and go dip that in the toilet. If it’s clean, that’s fine. If not, you’ll still eat it. Get it good and soggy, and come back and sit down and enjoy your fresh chicken, you dumb, ungrateful little slits.”

“Yes, Master, thank you for this lesson!” I responded gratefully. I was primarily shocked by how completely spontaneous it was and how strict my husband had become. The family behind us openly called us disgusting attention whores, and the boys with them laughed and laughed until my spine tingled with humiliation.

“Daddy, I just wanted a normal meal with you,” Julie pouted.

“You should have thought about that before you were born with a gash and asked for new rules. Now, go dunk your chicken, and maybe I won’t make you go back and rub it around the rim of the toilet!”

“Would you like us to do that, Sir?” I offered politely. I’d do it if it amused my husband.

“Yes, I would, Piggy. You shouldn’t expect to be fed at the table like a man!”

Julie strolled to the bathroom, but I hurried. We both had to waddle a little to hold the chicken in our assholes. Everyone in the restaurant knew what we had done, and a few people laughed or snickered. The bathroom was gender-neutral, so it was free to anyone. In 2042 President Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson had made ALL public restrooms gender-neutral, but there was still push back on that in some establishments.

The toilet was a little pissy and had poo stains on the sides. I dunked my chicken and then wiped it all around the edges. It was disgusting. I wished my husband and sons could watch how eagerly I did what I was told because I felt it would amuse them. Dewey would probably start requiring this at home if he saw me do it.

Julie flushed the toilet and stuck her chicken in the water after she did it. If she was going to do that, she may as well have ran it under the sink.

“Daddy didn’t say we could flush!” I admonished my daughter. I didn’t want to tell on her, but I felt I had to.

“He didn’t say we couldn’t either! I think I am going to tell Daddy I am done with this. I just wanted one meal that wasn’t humiliating. Did you see those kids? We ruined their meal.”

“We can’t help that we are silly whores that should be humiliated and ridiculed, Julie. If your father wants to see me hop around the store on one foot, wearing mashed potatoes and gravy on my head, and singing that song you made me sing, “How much fudge could a fudge packing pig pack, if a fudge packing piggy, packed all the fudge up her fat fudge hole until she couldn’t pack no more fudge!” and giving myself titty twisters, I’d put a dumb smile on my face and go out there and humiliate myself for him.”

“I can’t believe you remember that tongue twister! I almost forgot that one!” Julie seemed amused but had a bittersweet look on her face. She was clearly frustrated and had reached a point she didn’t want to continue.

“I am dumb, but I remembered what you taught me, Miss Julie! We have to hurry, or your dad will think we are masturbating. Are you going to tell him, or are you going to go eat this chicken?”

“Eat the chicken,” Julie sighed and acquiesced to her father’s instructions. “I wanted to see what a male-led house would be like, but I didn’t know it would be THIS extreme. Now I know I wouldn’t want to live this way forever.” She chuckled as we left and went back to the table.

We returned to Jim with our toilet-soaked fried chicken and another piece of chicken sticking out of our asses and waited for permission to sit back down, presenting our wet chicken to my husband.

“You took your sweet time. It surely wasn’t busy in there because I didn’t see anyone come out after your farty asses went in there!”

“No, Master! We dunked our chicken really well. May we sit?”

“You can hold your ass cheeks apart, bend over and eat your soggy chicken like the two lazy bitches that you are.” Jim looked at Julie and sarcastically asked if he had already called her a lazy bitch since she was keeping score.

“Sorry, Daddy, I shouldn’t have joked about that.”

“Jokes are supposed to make me laugh, Chicken Pocket. Turn around, spread your ass, and show me that chicken leg sticking out,” he insisted. When my daughter about faced and pulled her cheeks apart to let him look at the greasy fried chicken in her butt, he laughed pretty hard.

“You have both embarrassed yourselves in this restaurant. I had to punish you for getting uppity, and now I look like a bad guy. It’s your fault for asking me to break the rules YOU both asked me to follow! YOU consented. Now, you are Grease Pocket, and you eat leftovers. Don’t ask for any treats.”

We did as we were told, and Julie and I made spectacles of ourselves bent over, holding our asses apart. I dropped my chicken on the floor and bent my knees enough so that I could eat it off the floor, and Julie followed suit.

A manager walked over and asked us to kindly stop as others were trying to eat and we were disgusting the entire store. Jim apologized to us and told us to stop. He did that any time he publicly humiliated us, and someone spoke to him about it. Jim thought that it was fine up until the point it bothered someone to ask him to knock it off.

Technically, we could behave exactly as we did in the high school in public, and this would have been something I might have done in the request booth. Julie would usually defer eating requests to me.

We could legally stand with our asses spread and something in our butts in public places. It was legal to wear butt plugs, and it was legal to hold our ass cheeks. The chicken was an odd butt plug, but technically I felt it counted.

I understood in California, almost all of the women have designer butt plugs and love to show them off to the Paparazzi. You should see some of the ones Taylor Swift and Kim Kardashian can fit up their assholes! Kim has one shaped like a human fist.

However, once again, we were in bumfuck, backward Little Rock, Arkansas, and even though we were close to one of the seedier streets known for prostitution, our behavior was unsettling to the other customers. It may be legal, but it was very much frowned upon. I had never seen any woman do what we were doing in public around here. I knew that. I just didn’t worry because it wasn’t my choice to do this. I was obeying my husband, and I no longer felt shame about that.

“Okay, sit down and finish. You can use your fingers. You are disgusting whores. I can’t go any place with you that doesn’t involve you acting like selfish little twats.”

“You didn’t have to make us do that, Sir,” Julie reminded her father respectfully. We both had to sit in the wet spots we left from pouring our drinks over our heads.

“Oh? And if not, you’d run over to the Gibbons house and get your little clit mashed by them because I wasn’t hard enough on you today.”

“Actually, I was thinking about that,” Julie said. I kicked her foot gently under the table. Julie’s eyes locked on mine.

“I think I’d like a little time off from a male-led household.”

“It doesn’t work like that. You said three-day trial period, and you consented Fart Pocket,” Jim explained calmly as he ate some of my mashed potatoes.

“I know, and I appreciate you putting all this effort into it and giving me the experience, but it’s starting to wear me out. I have a hot piece of greasy fried chicken in my ass, Dad. I feel like a total freak and a laughing stock.”