Chapter 6

Have you ever done the right thing but for the wrong reasons? I’ve heard some pretty bad reasoning from people who were explaining themselves – maybe justifying themselves – but I don’t have that problem. If I’m doing the right thing, then it’s just because that’s what I felt like doing at the time. I don’t spend hours running things through my head and then deciding. I do sometimes wonder what the hell I’m thinking while I’m doing something I know is the wrong thing. Then I figure I’ve committed myself so I may as well enjoy it while it lasts.

That’s what I was thinking as I left Tracey and turned on my heel to go back to Beverly. Tracey, young enough to be an unplanned little sister at most, a daughter if I pushed my thinking in the other direction, was telling me I should fuck her mom. And her mom was right there, a whore who’d be able to show me a few things about sex at the very least. Who was I to argue with Tracey? Even if it meant I was in fact doing the wrong thing and I could lose Tracey when she realized what a stupid request she’d made.

So how did I react when I returned to the living room and Beverly wasn’t exactly where I’d left her? Part of me was pissed. I’d told her where she should wait, how she should wait and what she should be doing while she waited. Beverly didn’t listen. Fuck! Yeah, that made me mad. On the other hand, my anger was tempered by the thoughts I’d just been having about Tracey. Maybe I was being saved from making a huge mistake?

My condo isn’t huge. I didn’t spend five minutes looking around the living room for her. A simple glance sufficed, as I faltered in my path, then resumed walking to the bedroom. I found her under the comforter, pretending to be asleep. On MY bed. Come ON! This is my condo! What the hell! Damned women, thinking they can do whatever the fuck they want whenever they want! It was worse than bad manners, especially since she was a guest in my home.

Beverly was supposed to be a submissive. She was supposed to only do what she was told, when she was told, for however long she was told to do it, not pick and choose what she’d do, decide for herself what else she’d do if she didn’t feel like doing what she was told, or just make herself at home in a stranger’s fucking bedroom!

Was it the wrong thing for me to do when I grabbed the comforter and ripped it off her? I really didn’t care. She was in my bed without permission! She yelped in surprise when I ripped the covers off her. At least she’s still naked, I thought to myself. I mean it would have compounded everything if she’d stolen one of my tee shirts first, especially after being in the middle of a punishment for stealing my gold pen.

“I’m sorry, Charlie!” Beverly managed when she saw who it was that had stripped her cover off her.

“What are you DOING?” I shouted at her. “You were supposed to be waiting for me in the living room and here you are, taking a nap in MY bed! THAT BED IS MINE! Even Tracey hasn’t been in it. For that matter, no woman has slept in it!” I ranted.

“I slept in it earlier!” Beverly argued.

“No, you slept ON it. There’s a big fucking difference!” I shot back. Okay, now I was properly pissed off.

I haven’t actually hit a woman in anger before and I wasn’t about to start now, no matter how much they deserved it. That sounded like an Archie thing to me. I mean I don’t consider paddling a woman who’s into it as being the same sort of thing. I did, on the other hand, do something I haven’t done to a woman before. I grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled her off my bed. Later I laughed at myself. I’d manhandled a naked woman out of my bed. That’s funny no matter who you are. At the time though, I was busy being angry. I didn’t even let go of her hair when she was kneeling at my feet, being forced to look up at me.

The thought of slapping her stupid bitch face entered my mind but I pushed it away. I wish now that I had but that’s life. Regrets. I wasn’t, at that point, up to the confusion stage in my mind. It never occurred to me to put her over my knee and remind her that she’d given up the option of doing whatever she chose when she agreed to training.

“I got that bed for ME to sleep in when I moved in here. I don’t know where those nasty sex holes and that whore-skin of yours has been. Now I’m going to have to throw those sheets in the trash, you stupid cunt!”

“I’m sorry, Charlie,” Beverly repeated, sounding a little worried this time.

I know Mary would have said I was overreacting but I didn’t care. At that point, Tracey came running into my bedroom.

“Whaddid she do this time, Daddy?” Tracey asked fearfully.

“The stupid cow took it upon herself to take a fucking nap in MY bed!” I snarled, adding, “Didn’t you, pig?” All while using my fistful of her hair to make her nod her head vigorously as if she were agreeing wholeheartedly with me. Beverly just screeched and wailed. It probably hurt a little but I simply didn’t care.

“I’m real sorry, Daddy,” Tracey said in a soothing voice, the fear in her words replaced by anger now, too. “This is the sorta shit she does all’a time. Did she even do what you DID tell her to? I bet she either didn’t, or she half-assed it. It’s just how she is. There ain’t no hope fer her.”

“I told her to kneel in the living room and wait for me. If she can’t even wait without fucking up, I don’t know how to go forward from here,” I said slowly. “No wonder Archie dumped her sorry ass!”

The last dig wasn’t really necessary. It was aimed at insulting Beverly and I didn’t say it because I’d changed my mind about the reason I thought Archie had done what he’d done. That guy was way too smart for his own good, I knew, just based on the setup he had in suburbia. I wanted to hurt Beverly because I knew she still felt loyalty to Mr. Fuckface, as Tracey called him. Reminding her that she’d just been dumped for her poor performance was simply my way of driving home Beverly’s inadequacies.

But ... but at the same time, my anger was quickly dissipating and it was because of Tracey. I wanted to be angry and stay angry but how could I when the first thing Tracey did, was to support me in my anger and apologize for her mother.

We really needed to talk. Tracey was as different to her mom as Mother Theresa was to Sid, the sloth from Ice Age. Beverly was a selfish, lazy screw-up with the attention span of a gnat. Tracey was a kind, thoughtful, driven young woman and I was right in the middle, being asked to train the good young woman only to find out that her mom, who was an experienced submissive, was a total shit storm of uselessness. If she didn’t have a killer body, there’d be nothing redeeming about Beverly at all.

In a final display of disgust, I let go of Beverly’s hair and pushed her forehead away from me, causing her to sprawl backwards on the floor.

“Get on your knees, slut!” I demanded, trying desperately to hold on to my anger.

I had directed my order to Beverly, but Tracey fell immediately to her knees too and in fact was in position before her mom.

“I didn’t mean you, baby. I know you’re busy. It’s this useless cock sheath I was talking to. Sorry.”

Please don’t apologize on my behalf, Daddy. You done nothing wrong. I was jus’ tryin’ to be good in case ya did mean the both of us. Dinner’s gonna be about five minutes or so. Is that okay? Ummm ... I can nuke it when yer ready if ya need more time.” Tracey said, mirroring my expression when she glanced at her mother.

I don’t really need any more time at all. I’m at a loss as to what to do about Beverly,” I said, shaking my head sadly. “I don’t know how you’ve managed to turn out the way you did with this waste of space for a mother,” I said with a note of incredulity in my voice. “Is there anything she can help you with?”

“If’n ya wanna wash up or anything, Bebbs kin help me, Daddy. Thank you!” Tracey said with what I could only describe as an evil grin, before getting back to her feet and facing her mother.

“You heard Daddy, slut. Yer gonna help me an’ I have jus’ the job fer ya.” Tracey said to her mom, her grin widening.

Beverly moved as if she was going to get to her feet. Tracey stopped her with her hand on Beverly’s messed up head of hair. “Uh-ah Bebbs. I don’t know what the fuck yer thinkin’ but you ain’t done with Daddy yet!”

That caught my attention. I’d just said I was done with Beverly.

Tracey glanced at me but quickly focused on her mom again. “I din’ even hear an apology, you stupid cunt!” Tracey said to her mother. Din’ Fuckface teach you nothin’? And when yer done, you can fucking crawl!”

Beverly looked at Tracey for a good ten seconds before lowering her eyes submissively. I wondered what they’d shared in that wordless interaction. From my point of view, it seemed like Beverly was accepting that Tracey had just been put in a position of authority over her and she didn’t like it, but eventually accepted it.

Without lifting her eyes, Beverly twisted her body slightly so she was looking at my shoes, then addressed me. It sounded like she’d been thoroughly schooled in how to apologize.

This dumb cunt is sorry for her behavior and would be grateful for the chance to demonstrate her willingness to atone for her screw up,” Beverly said sincerely.

“That ain’t no apology!” Tracey declared loudly. No wonder yer a fuckin’ whore, mom. Jeez yer a stupid cow! Maybe Daddy will get yer a cow bell to jingle when ya crawl around or somethin’. Talkin’ all high and mighty jus’ ain’t you, neither. And whaddya ya mean anyways?”

I was personally quite impressed by the apology even if it was a rehash of something Archie had taught her. I liked the third-person approach she used when describing herself. It left no doubt about her lack of status. I was also interested in how she could possibly demonstrate, ‘atonement’, as she’d called it.

“I’m sorry Bubby. It’s how I have to formally apologize to Master Archie when I fuck up. Then he’ll offer me a choice of punishment implements and I have to choose the one that I think he wants me to choose. If I fuck that up too, I get to feel all the choices. I dunno what Char ... Master Charles has in the house to punish me with though.”

“You already said ya like being whooped on! Ya caint apologize then expect a re-fuckin-ward!” Tracey replied in true disbelief.

At that point I jumped in. Even I knew there was a difference between a sexual beating and a punishment beating, even for a masochist, like Beverly seemed to be. It was one of the things that had occurred to me that we needed to talk about.

“Its okay baby. I know what she meant. In a second, you can go ahead and take her with you. We’ll talk at dinner.” Moving my focus once more to Beverly, I told her to look at me. “ I don’t accept your apology Beverly. That’s because where I come from, once an apology is accepted, it’s done with and I don’t think this is done with. You’ll keep apologizing and you’ll Express exactly what you did wrong and how you’ll ensure it never happens again before I accept your apology. Got it?”

“Yes Master,” Beverly dutifully replied.

I’m sure I heard a ‘harrumph’ from Tracey but she didn’t say anything more. I was sure she felt like I was letting her mom off too easily. I mean I know I should have still been righteously angry that Beverly ruined my sheets as well as totally ignoring her instructions, but it was hard with Tracey being so wonderful, ya know? Anyway, I wasn’t letting Beverly off at all. I planned on laying down the law while we sat down to dinner. Hell, I was seriously thinking of making Beverly eat from a dish on the floor as partial punishment. She’d already said she’d done that for Archie before anyway.

Tracey surprised me when she grabbed a handful of her mom’s hair, just like I had when I’d yanked her out of my bed. This time Beverly didn’t complain. Maybe Tracey was being more gentle with her than I had been. Tracey was about to leave my bedroom with Beverly when she suddenly stopped, causing a tiny Yelp from her mom.

Oh yeah, Daddy. Whaddya yer want me to wear for dinner? One of my new outfits, or maybe some of that sexy lingerie? I know, I bet you want me dressed in my suit to match Bebb’s?”

“I didn’t buy you a suit, baby! But I did like that zebra colored stuff you got,” I admitted, proud that I’d remembered yet another set of items I’d paid for.

“You know I meant my birthday suit, Daddy!” she giggled like a little girl. “But okay, the zebra bra and panties it is! I love you Daddy!” She exclaimed and skipped out of the room pulling her own mother by her hair, before I could process what she’d said, much less respond.

I went into my bathroom in a daze, hardly processing that Beverly had been there before me. She’d moved shit around when she’d been looking for a hairbrush. Even my deodorant had been moved although it had been neatly sitting out in the open. I lined it back up on the shelf so I’d easily be able to see the label when I used it next, before washing my hands. I know it’s silly to have the label visible since I used the same brand of deodorant after every shower, so I knew exactly what it was, if only by its location on the shelf, but it’s the principle of orderliness that I enjoy, when I look at my stuff.

As I washed my hands I briefly thought of a sitcom on TV I enjoy. One of the characters, a guy called Sheldon, who I often laugh at, came to mind. I spun the bottle around again before I even dried my hands. I didn’t want to be like Sheldon even though The Big Bang Theory on TV made him out to be unrealistically weird on purpose. I look nothing like that weedy little nerd, but I didn’t want to be thought of as acting like him either.

My living room is an open plan. That means the dining area is just an extension of it, before entering the kitchen. Beverly, looking very contrite, was laying a plate on the table. There was only one place set, which confused me. Tracey was standing at the kitchen counter with her back to me doing something.

To be honest, I couldn’t care less what she was doing. She was wearing the zebra underwear set, what there was of it. The panties were a thong style, with a really high cut. You know, the sort of panties you can see when a girl is wearing low-rider jeans. Her bubble-butt ass cheeks were highlighted and perfectly displayed and the material disappearing between them just added a little something-something. If there’s only one thing in the world better than a naked ass like Tracey’s, it’s an ass in a thong. The bra strap across her back almost ruined the perfect image I was busy burning into my memory.

To hold breasts the size of Tracey’s, the bra had to be fairly robust and the five hooks holding the two strap-ends together were a testament to that solid construction. What I meant by ruining the look was that Tracey’s skin is so startlingly white with hardly a blemish on it. Sometimes a bra strap will cause bulges – especially when a chick has big boobs because they also have an abundance of padding to go with those big jugs. Tracey didn’t have that extra padding, so the bra straps were just plain tight on her, as if she were bound. I decided right then that her wearing that particular bra wasn’t ruining anything at all.

My dick certainly agreed with me. Beverly was naked with tits even bigger than Tracey’s, yet I dismissed her with something close to contempt in favor of Tracey. I had eyes only for Tracey’s underwear-encased form from behind. Damn she was stunning.

“Where’s your silverware?” I asked, assuming the food on the plate already on the table was mine. It looked great. Even if it was intended for one of them, I instantly decided I was claiming it!

My dining table was round, so there was no ‘head’ of the table but something just made me assume it was indeed set for me. I sat. Then Tracey turned around. I admit that it took me a few seconds to focus on anything other than her tits in the zebra bra and her smile, but when I did, I saw she had two dessert bowls, with mounds of something in them and that something didn’t look like ice cream.

Fucking dog food! My mind screamed at me. With no waver in her smile, Tracey crouched and set the bowls near the legs of my chair.

“I assumed you wouldn’t want us eatin’ our food with a spoon, Daddy. Did I fuck up?” She asked, her smile finally faltering.

My mind was in turmoil. Tracey really had prepared dog food for them to eat. Not only that, she fully expected to eat it off the floor! No wonder Beverly was looking contrite. She probably thought her daughter had been joking in the car – like I had been. How could I joke with Tracey if she was going to go ahead and take my comments literally every time? Was I prepared to actually allow them to eat that shit? Actually, it didn’t look so bad ... it was more the idea of it than anything else. But then there was the discussion I planned to have with both of them over dinner. I wanted to be able to look each of them in the eye while discussing house rules and plans and expectations and such. I could hardly do that with the girls sitting on the floor, now could I?

“Ahhh ... ummm ... no, you’re right baby,” I stammered my reply as I furiously attempted to get my wits about me again. “But I wanted to talk with you over dinner. It’ll be more harder if you’re sitting on the floor. Would you girls at least sit up here with me this one time and use forks?”

Pigs don’t sit at a table to eat, Daddy,” Tracey said contemptuously. “And Bebbs has certainly showed herself to be a disgusting piggy, haven’t ya mom?” Tracey directed the insult at her mom but didn’t wait for a reply before continuing, “Can ya talk to Bebbs while she sloshes around in her food, if’n I sit with you, Daddy?”

Tracey was obviously still very angry with Beverly and wasn’t hiding her feelings at all. I guess she had a lot more to be angry at than me, so I indulged her. “That’d be fine, babe. It was you I really wanted to talk to anyway.”

Tracey picked up one of the dishes and sat it on the table across from me. She then fetched a spoon instead of a fork, saying that a fork wouldn’t work so well in a bowl. I was still having a problem wrapping my head around the fact that Tracey didn’t seem the least bit disturbed at the idea of eating dog food. She just seemed pleased to be offered a seat at the table. Nothing was said at first. I sat watching my own food, as well as Tracey, out of the corner of my eye.

I didn’t taste my food or say anything until I gestured at Tracey’s bowl in a, ‘go ahead’ way and Tracey had sampled her own dinner. The look on her face answered my question about it, but she told me what she thought of it anyway.

“Hey it’s pretty good! Bebbs has cooked up shit way worse than this!”

Only then did I notice that Beverly had also started in on her dinner and was wolfing it down as if she hadn’t eaten in days. I felt something about her just digging in without permission but at the time, it didn’t click in my head what my problem was. I figured Beverly was just generally annoying.

To be honest, I only know that I ate chicken, myself. I couldn’t tell you if it was fried or grilled or broiled and I certainly couldn’t tell you what Tracey served with it. All I remember is that it was very palatable. I’m sure I’ve had worse at restaurants but the point is that I don’t remember my first home cooked meal with Tracey because I was so focused on what she was eating instead of what she served me.

Finally, I could put off my twenty questions no longer. Both Tracey and Beverly had finished their meals and I hadn’t even enjoyed watching Beverly eat hers. As I said, I was focused on Tracey. That thought made me smile. I’m pretty sure I would have enjoyed watching Beverly with her face pushed into her bowl and yet having a laugh at Beverly’s expense never even occurred to me.

“So we have a problem,” I began before backing up and amending my statement. “I mean, I have a problem. I’ve already shared what made me get to know you. You, young lady, have shown yourself to be a well adjusted, thoughtful, sympathetic young woman who feels personally affronted when your mom screws up – which she seems to do on an hourly basis. I really appreciate your reaction because some people in my past say I overreact to most things. Thank you, Tracey.”

“But.” Tracey replied then paused as if waiting for me to finish the sentence starting with the word, ‘but’. When I didn’t, she resumed, “It always starts with a compliment then the hammer falls. That’s what the priests did at school all the time.” Tracey said with her regular frown back on her face.

“Actually, I have nothing but nice things to say about you, baby. And on top of everything else, you appear to be extremely receptive to the idea of learning how to be wonderfully obedient and pleasing to the man in your life, namely me.”

“I am! I wanna be the perfect girl for ya, Daddy! But you said you have a problem? What can I do to make it right?”

“You just said you were waiting for the ‘but’. That’s how I feel. You’ve been so enthusiastic when we did private stuff...”

“You mean like the bj’s? I’ve done my best, Daddy. If there’s anything I don’t do right, I’ll practice till I get it right, I promise! And Bebbs can sure do it right. I can watch her and learn.”

“Tracey! Baby! You’ve been phenomenal! That’s what I meant. I’m half expecting you to disappear or something because you’re too good to be true. But. Okay, there IS a ‘but’, after all. But then there’s your mom. Are you sure she didn’t steal you as a baby or something? You two are as different as it’s possible to be. I just don’t know what to do with Beverly. I’m enjoying your company more than I ever thought I would and I want you to stay with me. In fact, I guess I promised you. I don’t break promises.”