Chapter 32

“Wake up, Blair” My mother’s pretty face was staring down at me as she stood over me in my bed. I almost thought I had dreamt this past week because she looked at me so differently.

My mom had been aloof and often looked at me with disdain during my training. However, now she had this callous, unemotional expression on her face like she could care less whether I woke up or I stayed in bed.

“Not going to call me Fart Face anymore?” I joked and stuck my tongue out. I wanted to add a little levity and crack that stony expression on my mother’s face.

“I am not in the mood to entertain you. You aren’t Sugar, you aren’t Fart Face, you aren’t in training. You’ve won, and you got everything you wanted. Your little joke may have amused you. I am not going to give you any lectures about repercussions or consequences. Those have never mattered to you. You are not fixable and I am not going to bother. You will be old enough to move out soon, and then you can be somebody else’s problem. Until then, while you live in this house, you will do what I tell you,” she said sternly.

“Yes, Ma’am!” I saluted her and yawned. I stretched in bed. I had slept naked without a blanket, even though I didn’t have too.

“You will call me, Mom. You haven’t earned the right to call me Ma’am or Mistress,” my mom insisted. “Get dressed. We are going to clean Honey’s trailer and then go to the beach,” she said.

I noticed my mother was wearing a skimpy G-string bikini with a hot little top that barely covered her sizable nipples.

“I am not wearing one of those bikinis,” I insisted.

“I don’t give a crap if you wear a paper bag. You can wear a bathing suit or jeans for all I care. You are not my problem. You can get up and fix yourself breakfast or go hungry. We are leaving in twenty minutes,” My mom pivoted to leave. Her ass was red as if she had been spanked a few times.

“What if I don’t WANT to go?” I asked haughtily.

“What you want is irrelevant. You will not be home by yourself because you cannot be trusted. You will not be trained or disciplined, but I’ll be damned if I leave you here to start another round of mischief. You are coming with us. You can sit out in the fucking car while we clean her trailer,” my mom said and sauntered out the door. My mom had a very sexy way of walking, even when she was angry. Her hips shimmied from side to side exaggeratedly. I hoped I had the same sort of wiggle because I wanted to be watched when I stormed out of a room just like her.

I yawned again and walked out of the room naked. I was being contrary. I assumed someone would say something to me about it when I walked into the living room. No one even looked up at me to acknowledge the fact I had no clothes on.

My brothers were playing with trucks on the carpet in the living room. Jenny was preparing food and wearing a prissy little apron over a skimpy pink chiffon bikini. Her red hair was in pigtails and she had on lots of makeup like a good little slut.

Candy and Honey were on the floor on their hands and knees, crawling around in the nude with nothing but their collars on. Their ass cheeks were spread, and they had their butt plugs in. Their eyes were locked, and they were French kissing. Kiwi was sitting at the kitchen table with Liz. Liz was directing the two of them and giving them pointers while helping Kiwi to understand how to better train the two of them.

Kiwi was wearing a pair of Sun britches and an OP shirt.

Liz was wearing a skimpy thong bikini. I didn’t think much of it at first because she was known to wear skimpy outfits at the beach. Most of her students had seen her over the years at the beach, and she made no secret she liked to strut her stuff.

I didn’t notice at first, but when I did, I became extremely jealous and angry. She was wearing the leather collar that I threw down on the ground the night before. She was wearing MY collar.

“So, are you a slave now?” I asked her with vitriol in my voice.

Candy’s mother didn’t look up, and she didn’t answer me.

“Okay, so you are all going to pretend I don’t exist?” I waved my arms around.

My little brothers looked up at me and grinned, but no one else was willing to take my bait.

“Fine, I’ll walk around naked if I want too! Buddy and Lewis have already seen me naked, and it doesn’t matter,” I said as I planted my ass in a kitchen chair next to Kiwi and Liz. I admit that I was trying to shock anyone of them into confronting me about what I was doing.

“No one is saying you have to put on clothes, Ma’am,” Liz said without looking up at me. It wasn’t lost on me that she called me Ma’am. I was about to call her out for it.

“Don’t call her Ma’am. She isn’t worth respect. She isn’t in training, but she doesn’t warrant being spoken to with any special protocol. You will call her Blair,” my mom instructed Liz and my two former friends who were on the floor.

“Yes, Mistress,” all three of them answered her in unison.

“Wait? You are a slave now?” I asked Liz. She still wasn’t looking at me. “Why aren’t you on the floor like the other girls?”

“You don’t have any reason to ask questions of Liz. This is no longer any of your business,” my mom insisted I mind my own business before instruction Liz to get on the floor.

“Yes, Ma’am, I thought we were ready to leave?” Liz stood up and got down on her hands and knees with the other two girls. I could clearly see a butt plug in her asshole when she did. There was a single red string running down her ass crack that could never have covered the entire base of the plug. She executed a very formal pose on the ground at my feet.

“No, we have to wait for Blair to get ready. Take that thong off, and you will ride in the car like the other girls,” My mom instructed her friend.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Liz politely answered her and then, using a single untied her thong bottoms and top and wadded them up. She stuffed them in her pussy like her labia was a purse designed to hold her outfit. I noticed the hint of bikini string sticking out of Honey’s fat cunt as well.

I chuckled.

“Why doesn’t Liz have a cute little slut name like me?” I asked my mom as I watched the girls make out together. Liz joined in with her daughter and Honey to start kissing.

“I told you that this Summer program no longer concerns you,” my mom insisted angrily. She corrected the girls by swatting their butts and telling them they needed to use more tongue.

“You could call her Sugar! I am not using the name anymore,” I grinned wickedly. I enjoyed making my mom uncomfortable.

“I am not sure I even want to put Sugar in my tea anymore. You’ve left a pretty sour taste in my mouth,” my mom explained that the name Sugar was no longer one she wanted to hear.

My mom wouldn’t explain further, and no one else wanted to talk to me about what was going on either. I took my time getting ready for the beach. I decided to enjoy my new found freedom and ability to make everyone else wait for me. I eventually chose a Cherry colored bikini bottom and a white top. It wasn’t skimpy by my mother’s standards, but it still showed off my body. I put my blonde hair in a long ponytail and did my makeup, and then announced I was ready.

My mom was spanking Liz and the other girls when I walked out. She had them bent over the couch as she laid into them with a paddle. It was apparent she was giving them one of her affirmation sessions.

I gathered from Liz’s admissions that she had decided to submit last night and had asked my mother to train her, but I didn’t know anything else. I don’t know why but the fact that no one would tell me what was going on made me want to find out what REALLY was going on.

We piled into my mom’s car. The backseat was huge, and there was plenty of room for me back there. However, I tried to sit in the front seat like I used to do before my training.

My mom glared at me when I tried to call shotgun. She had reserved the front seat for Kiwi.

“Fine, but I am not riding naked,” I said as I pushed my way into the backseat. Liz, Candy, and Honey sat naked with their legs apart. My mom told them to pull their cunt lips out and hold them during the trip.

My little brothers were on the other end of the seat with Jenny. She was wearing her apron and a bikini top. “What should I do, Mistress?” Jenny asked.

“You can remove your top and hold your nipples,” My mom instructed Jenny.

Jenny removed her top, and my brothers giggled and called them boobies. I wanted to remind them that Jenny was as flat-chested as they were and that technically Jenny was a boy just like they were. It didn’t matter, though. Buddy and Lewis were easily amused. They couldn’t bother me while they were sitting on the other side of the backseat.

There was silence in the car as my mom lit up a cigarette and pulled down the street. The trunk was already loaded up with beach gear and cleaning supplies, and it was a beautiful, warm Florida day full of Sunshine. We might have seemed like any normal family in the 1980s if it wasn’t for the three naked girls and the topless boy dressed as a girl in the backseat.

My mom flipped on the radio.

“Every day, Every day I write the boo-ook,” by Elvis Costello, began warbling through the speakers.

“So when do you get a new name?” I casually asked Liz. She ignored me. I wondered how long she was going to pretend to be a slave. She ignored me. I asked another question and I could tell that she was going to ignore me but it only made me want to ask more questions.

My mom saw that I was asking her questions when she looked in the rearview mirror. She nodded permission to Liz to explain herself to me.

“I know at school I seem like I am in control. I am a strict English teacher and kind of a bitch,” she smiled. “I am really not a naturally dominant person. The person you know as Elizabeth Sonneborne is just a front. She is prim and proper and does everything in a regimented fashion. I knew I was submissive years ago when I was your age. I just didn’t know what it was called. I first met Mistress Ann through Samantha a few years ago. They taught me to discipline and I craved it. The reason I wear a string bikini isn’t because I am a show-off. I am far from it. I was raised in the Mid-west to be very shy and stingy with my body. They insisted I show myself off and now I do anytime I can because I know it helps me stop being vain,” she said.

I usually don’t listen to people when they tell me stories about their past. I pretend and casually dismiss them, but this time, I listened very intently and nodded my head.

“They take turns being in charge because they need training and discipline too. Mistress Ann is usually the one who controls both of us. They have offered to let me be in charge for a week to complete my training but I have always declined. I don’t have a dominant bone in my body. I prefer to submit and give pleasure. I am a pleaser, not a teaser,” she giggled. She was clearly talking to me without the respectful, polite protocol she reserved for my mother or Kiwi. Liz talked to me much like she would have before she entered training.

“I was jealous when your mom insisted told us that she was going to train me this Summer. Mistress Samantha said she had to teach you how to behave and that she was afraid you would turn out just like her,” Liz explained. “I agree now that I see what it has done for Candy that she has benefitted from the training. I suppose I should thank you for your little stunt last night. I was afraid of what I would tell my sons when we brought Candy home. I knew she would need continued discipline, and if she is anything like me, she would crave it once she understood why it was essential to keep her in line,” she said.

I didn’t expect that, but I kept my mouth shut.

“We had a long discussion last night, and my sons agreed to support me when I confront my husband. I asked your mother to give me a refresher training in submission this weekend. I haven’t been consistently under discipline since last year. We do little sessions every now and then, but as you know, there is nothing like the 24/7 consistent path of austerity and humility,” Liz explained. She loved to use pithy big words because she was an English teacher.

“Gerald and Timmy want you to be their slave?” I found myself guffawing at that.

“Yes, they do,” Liz answered quite seriously. “Candy gave them a demonstration of the basic service positions, punishments, and obedience training that she does, and I asked them how they would feel if I did that as well. They were hesitant at first but I explained that when I am kept in line I am far more attentive and polite. I am happier with myself and don’t tend to fly off the handle and get argumentative. I become less petty and jealous, and I asked if they would permit me to serve their father in the same way that Candy does,” she said.

“It didn’t make me any less petty and jealous,” I snickered.

“Yes, it did, but you were already so petty and jealous that it just took you down to a normal bitch instead of a super-bitch,” Liz chuckled. “I was much worse than you when Mistress Ann first met me. I was ready to confront anyone who dared challenge me. All of my blustering and yelling was really me calling out for a TRULY dominant person to come butt heads with me until they could put me in my place. I was a SAM – a smart assed masochist.

My mother glared in the rearview mirror when the name Sam was mentioned. Then she smirked. The fact that her name was Sam and she was probably a smart assed masochist was an ironic coincidence.

Liz explained that her bratty behavior was an attempt to get attention. “I would talk back, get disrespectful, and challenge authority. There was no Principal or School Administrator who knew better than I did how things should work in my classroom as far as I was concerned. I would do things differently just because I was hoping they would call me out on it. I realized that all of this was my subconscious yearning for someone who wouldn’t put up with my shit and would keep me in line. Mistress Ann put an end to that for the most part – she reset my bitch button and kicked the snot out of me. I need that on a constant basis, and so do you – you just don’t realize it. You may never realize it,” Liz shrugged.

I didn’t agree, but I didn’t disagree.

“On Sunday, I am going to negotiate with my husband. I know he cheats on me. I think he does that because I’ve been sexually distant. He also suspects that I’ve been cheating on him. I have. I am a full time whore. I work at strip clubs but I also suck cocks, fuck and suck for money as an escort. I am going to let my husband in on the secret and tell him in exchange for training me he can control our money and direct who I can fuck. I am hoping it will strengthen our marriage,” she said.

“What if he thinks you are a bat-shit crazy nymphomaniac?” I laughed at her idea.

“He has known I’ve been fucking around on him. He just thinks I was doing it for kicks and he didn’t leave. I think once he hears that I’ve been doing it to earn money for the house and that I am willing to obey him he will be excited. We will see,” she smiled.

“Now that my sons know about their sister and me, the cat is finally out of the bag. I was mostly concerned they would be disgusted with me. They may still be but they seem to understand my choices and needs now. On Sunday, I’ll ask my husband to train me at home until Candy is ready to join us, and we’ll negotiate some house rules. A lot of that is going to depend on what he is comfortable with. If he decides he wants a divorce then I will cross that bridge when I come to it. I can see how he may feel betrayed by the secrets I’ve kept from him. He may feel that I should have come to him and asked him for discipline in the first place. I knew he was capable of providing discipline but I wanted him to take control on his own. I never wanted to offer the reigns of my obedience to him. I felt like he wouldn’t be worthy if I did. I let total strangers dominate me for money,” she said.

She went on to explain that my mother, Ann, and her frequently let men tie them up and beat them for money as paid submissives. “I don’t do paid dominatrix work,” Liz clarified that my mom and Ann both did. “My husband may not be able to live with me this way. That is a real possibility, but I can’t live with myself the way I am, and I can see now that Candy needs discipline as well,” she said.

She explained that she would not force her new way of life on her husband, but she was going to do her best to make him enjoy it and understand the benefits of a male-dominated household.

“What if you wake up a few months from now and realize this was a huge mistake and you want to go back,” I thought she was being absurdly hasty with her decision.

She looked at me like I was a naïve little child. Liz seemed to stare right into my heart before she answered my question. It was as if she was in disbelief I could have asked the question that should have been so obvious to me.

“Just like every mistake I’ve ever made in my life, there is no going back once I make it. There is no undo button and no liquid paper I can pour to my mistakes to make them go away. If I made a mistake then I will own it and learn from it. I will decide what to do from there to move forward but there is no going back. I am going to offer my submission to my husband tomorrow to eliminate a mistake I made years ago by hiding it from him,” she said proudly.

She said that this weekend was going to be very helpful to her as a warm-up. “I have been very comfortable and taken a lot of things for granted. I’ve become very sloppy with my service training, and now I guess your mom has room for one more in the summer school program – at least for the weekend,” she chuckled.

I ignored the implication that my dropping out of my mom’s disciplinary program had given her the opportunity to participate. I could tell she was trying to add a little levity, but I saw it as an insulting dig on me personally.

“So, what name do you want him to call you?” I quickly changed the subject because I realized she had said something profound, and I didn’t want to dwell too deeply on the lesson she was trying to impart upon me.

“I am just Liz right now because my husband sons will make that decision. I won’t be Liz, and I probably won’t be Mom. I won’t have any parental authority at home. They will decide on something appropriate for my new station,” she said.

“This is pretty rad! You kind of made this decision over night,” I observed.

“No, this is something I’ve talked about with your mother for two years. I was too afraid to tell my husband that I needed to be led and ruled over. I need to be scolded when I am bad. I need to be made to face my shortcomings and I thrive on obedience and submission. I talked this through with my sons and I am positive my husband will agree if I ask him to take the reins over our marriage. He’ll be free to fuck anyone he wants and I’ll happily obey him. It will probably make our marriage stronger. I’ve known about his infidelity for years. Your little prank only made me realize that honesty would have been the best policy,” Liz seemed happy. I didn’t like that. It took all the fun out of wrecking her marriage.