Chronicles of Humiliation
Copyright© 2026 by Daphne Parish
Chapter 3: The Mailman, Trashmen & The Pool Party
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 3: The Mailman, Trashmen & The Pool Party - Darcy moves from Pineapple Park to her parent's home to care for her Uncle Malcolm. Not everything is as it seems in this neighborhood.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Mult Blackmail Consensual NonConsensual Reluctant Heterosexual Uncle Niece MaleDom Humiliation Gang Bang Interracial Black Male White Male Hispanic Male Indian Male Anal Sex Exhibitionism Masturbation Oral Sex Sex Toys Voyeurism Illustrated
The next morning I was awakened by freezing cold water being dumped on me from my Uncle Malcolm. I was asleep in my room, still exhausted from the previous night’s activities, not the least of which included pushing him around the block naked and in heels. One shoe didn’t even make it home, in fact I had passed out and woke up as my uncle was “wheeling” us up the driveway.
“Time to get your ass outta bed and make my breakfast!” my uncle yelled as I lay shivering in my freezing wet bed. “After that, I got some rules you need to learn. It’s already past breakfast, so you don’t get a shower. I like my eggs over easy, my bacon crispy, and my toast brown like my balls! You got that? You remember my balls, right? Last night’s stroll around the neighborhood? Remember? Sucking on my balls and then taking my dick down your throat?”
“Yes Uncle Malcolm, I re–”
He cut me off. “That’s the first rule. Call me Master from now on. You understand?”
I have to admit, it threw me back for a minute. Why was he telling me to call him “Master”? He didn’t give me time to think about it as his belt came down on my butt.
“Do you understand?” he asked, now very agitated. “It’s a yes or no question, dip shit. I made it easy for you.”
“Yes Master, I understand,” I quickly interjected. My initial thought was that this would eventually blow over, but it never did. From then on, I always made sure to refer to him as “Master”, no matter where we were or who was around.
“Good. Now, here’s a list of rules you need to follow from now on!” He handed me a piece of folded paper and wheeled himself back to his room. I unfolded the paper and read the list of my new duties and tasks:
I read through them twice, but still didn’t understand why the rules were numbered and the tasks were lettered? The bottom line? I was basically his slave. What other conclusion could I come to? This was the cost of living with my uncle, unless I wanted to give up my so-called, “inheritance”. I thought I was past this point of decision making. Last night I was obeying his every command without hesitation. This morning was different. This didn’t seem too far off from indentured servitude. Then, the doorbell rang.
“Rules one, two, four, and eight are now in effect!” Uncle Malcolm yelled from his bedroom. “The ribbon is on the hat rack.”
The doorbell rang again. I quickly looked through the rules as I heard his bedroom door open and the familiar creaking of the floor underneath his wheelchair.
“Door ain’t gonna open itself, you dumb cunt,” I heard him talking to himself as his voice trailed off. I scurried to the door and found the red ribbon. The doorbell rang for the third time just as I had finished tying it. I opened the door and quickly got on my knees, sitting upright.
“Hello! May I suck your cock, Sir?” I asked, looking back at my uncle as he wheeled himself into the living room. I tried my best to sound polished, but truthfully, it was the most awkward thing I’ve ever had to say to a complete stranger, especially when I realized it was the mailman. He was a stranger, but now I felt he would never see me as a patron or a customer or even Miss Darcy Mae Snyder. I was just a slut offering to be his cocksucking whore on his mail route. I smiled anyway.
“Well Malcolm, who do we have here?” the mailman asked as he looked past me to my uncle.
“That’s my niece, Darcy,” my uncle said as he rolled up next to me. “You want her to suck your dick? She’s new to the neighborhood. Gotta break her in sometime you know?”
“No, no. I haven’t got time for that,” the mailman said with a smile. “A little bird, or maybe I should say a flock of birds told me this might belong to you, Miss Darcy?” It was my shoe from last night’s stroll around the neighborhood.
“Thank you Sir. It is mine,” I said, genuinely thankful.
“She’s always losing things, George,” my uncle interjected. “Hell, she’d lose her fucking head if it wasn’t sewn onto her neck!”
“No worries. I found it down by the Maxwell’s house. Say, have you met the Friedman’s yet?” George asked my uncle.
“Don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” Uncle Malcolm answered. “Are they new to the neighborhood?”
“Yes, they are,” George answered. “Another little birdie told me that they’ll be at the HOA meeting tonight.”
“I don’t suppose this little birdie you keep referring to is Mrs. Cromwell?”
“That’s the bird. Mrs. Cromwell is the secretary for the HOA,” George said, turning to me, the slave, as I sat on my knees naked, watching their private conversation unfold. I wasn’t sure how I felt about sitting naked in the doorway while my uncle chit chatted with the mailman, but it wasn’t about me. I smiled.
“You won’t wanna miss this meeting Malcolm. I can assure you of that!” he added.
“Oh we’ll be there, with bells on,” my uncle replied, nodding at me. “Darcy here’s gonna be a servant. Why don’t you come, George?”
“Oh no. I can’t afford to live here in this ritzy neighborhood. I can barely afford to work here! If it wasn’t for the postal service, I would never have gotten to meet you fine folks! No, I’ll just hang out at home tonight and watch the news.”
“You can come as my guest,” my uncle offered. “Besides, I bet you had something to do with whatever Karen Cromwell is up to tonight. You might as well be there to enjoy it!”
“I can’t say one way or the other. I just know you won’t wanna miss it. Welp, I need to get back to my route. Let me know how it goes Malcolm. Here’s your mail, by the way. Nice meeting you Miss Darcy Mae Snyder, I love your ribbon, by the way. Hopefully I’ll have some mail for you soon!” George said as he walked out, leaving the door open.
“That reminds me, it’s trash day,” Uncle Malcolm said, smiling and handing me an envelope and another ribbon. “I need you to tape this to the top of the trash can and tie this ribbon around the mailbox handle. After that, you need to take a seat outside. I’ll let you know when you can come back in.”
The sealed envelope had me curious, as my uncle wheeled himself back to his room. I waited for him to close his door and carefully opened the envelope and read the printed note inside.
“Free pussy on the porch as a makeup for missing. She’s officially RRS now. Use the pool around back or use her on the front porch. (she loves it up the ass) Appreciate the hard work you all do! Sincerely, MKJ. Also, text me when you’re finished with her.”
That prick! He was determined to humiliate me every chance he got, but why the option of using the backyard? Then it dawned on me. Cameras. There were cameras in front and around back. That was all well and good, but he was blind. What good is a camera to him? Maybe he just wanted to hear what they did to me.
I re-sealed the envelope and tried to determine if I could wear anything outside while taking the trash down. Rule #1 indicated no such luck. It was daylight outside and I was no exhibitionist, or was I? This would be a test. Running the trash down would be easy. Tying the ribbon to the mailbox would be riskier. I decided to get it over with and think about it later. If I did enjoy showing off my body, it would give me a thrill. If I didn’t, I would know in the next 10 minutes.
I scurried outside to the breezeway between the house and the garage where the trash was always kept. I had never paid attention to the trash cans. Not even once, while I was growing up, had I ever given the trash a second thought. My dad took care of such things. At Pineapple Park, I took my trash to the dumpster on the way to work. As I rounded the house and spotted the cans, I realized it wouldn’t be as simple as I thought. The cans were very large and had wheels on them, which seemed simple enough until I tried to pull one. They were filled to the top. They probably hadn’t been emptied since my parents passed.
I reluctantly dragged them down to the curb, one at a time. Then I tied the ribbon onto the mailbox handle, as instructed. Only one car passed as I was tying the ribbon. It was an older heavy-set woman in the car and she stared at me like I was some sort of thief as she slowed down to pass me. I looked away and continued with my task. That’s when I noticed I was wet. Dammit. I was wet. My kitty was saturated and dripping down my thigh. I ran back inside, heaving from the uphill run. I sat down on the couch to catch my breath and remembered why I despised jogging. I already had “boob sweat”.
“I believe you were instructed to wait outside for the trash guys to finish,” my uncle yelled from his room.
FUCK. I can’t even catch my breath? Asshole. I grabbed a chair from the closet and took it outside. It was a foldable chair that my parents kept for guests or playing cards with a metal frame and hard plastic seat and back. Not exactly the best choice for sitting naked outside in the sunshine state with the heat and humidity. Nevertheless, I did what I did. Maybe I would be so sweaty and stinky by the time the trash people showed up that they would take a hard pass on molesting me? It could happen. It didn’t, of course, but it could have.
I was probably only out there for 15 minutes, no clue how long actually because of rule #7, no cellphone of course, before I heard the familiar squealing of the brakes on the trash truck. The truck stopped in front of my house and I watched the man in his dirty, dingy coveralls read the contents of the envelope. He slowly looked up toward me sitting naked on the porch. A huge smile came over him and he quickly alerted the driver. They pulled up into my driveway and walked up to me smiling.
“Well, well, well,” the driver said to his buddy. “Didn’t I tell you this was the best job ever?”
“You did, and now I see why!” the other man said, smiling. “I could use a blowjob and a cool dip in the pool, how about you, Jimmy?”
“Sounds good to me. Come on slut, let’s check out your pool!” Jimmy said as he grabbed my hair and pulled me along.
“You don’t have to be so rough!” I said sarcastically. “I’m obligated to go with you anyway. Is it really necessary to treat me like a dog?”
“I’m not sure, actually,” he replied. “The note just said you liked it up the ass, so I assumed you liked it rough? Ain’t that how you read it Dylan?”
“That’s just my uncle humiliating me. He has no idea what I like. I can tell you what I don’t like. I don’t like being treated like a dog. Let’s just get this over with so I can get back inside where it’s cool.”
“Ok,” he said as he let go of my hair. “You can cool down in the pool and then we’ll get down to business. That okay with you?”