Chapter 9

I wanted to have my fun with Aunt Wendy, of course, but I was already a little tired of her bullshit. I suspected that the same would soon be true of Mom. I decided that I would discipline and re-educate my mother and aunt, but would soon make a pact with Uncle Manfred. He would get his former sisters-in-law, while his congress with Stacey, Ellie, and Trish would fade over time. I wanted revenge, but didn’t particularly desire either woman in reality these days. They were better off as rewards for Uncle Manfred once they had suffered enough for my needs.

But first, yes, they had to suffer. It was absolutely necessary to make the two of them pay for what they did to me, from the abuse and humiliation to the constant fear of more, to the worst part of all: the circumcision. I had never forgiven them for this and I never would. They would have to pay for it, big time! By the time that I handed them over to Uncle Manfred, they would be grateful as fuck for him! He would be their Prince Charming, their white knight savior, delivering them from bondage to me. They had damn well better treat him with the appreciation that he rightfully deserved, too.

I knew Manfred ... he could break free from the social conditioning of his upbringing only so far. He was still a bit of a schmuck at heart, at least in some ways. He could be toughened and smartened up a little, but he would only go so far. Religious backgrounds carried so much baggage, after all, though at least his religion was civilized and aloof, didn’t try to convert people. Fundamentalist Christianity was nothing short of pure medieval barbarism and absurd superstition in my book, and it tended to spread like a cancer. Radical feminism was also a disease to be purged with fire.

“Simon Says, wake up, bitches! Now, you might wonder why I bothered with the bondage gear if you’re already mind-controlled by me. Well, that’s to make you suffer, of course! You must learn lessons, my dears that only pain mixed with pleasure can teach you. You must learn to welcome the kiss and sting of the whip, of the paddle, of the lash! You must learn not to chafe at your bonds, but to embrace them and your new role for the rest of your days, that of service to your betters! And you will learn your place ... and stay here! Mark my words! You will be humbled and you will learn to cherish that humility and receive it with a quiet dignity!” I began the radical re-education of my mother and aunt in earnest now.

“Here’s your breakfast, bitches! Simon Says, eat up! It’s your last meal until I grant you permission to eat again. Grits, toast, and eggs, and count yourselves lucky for those! If you’re good, you might earn butter and sugar for those grits next time, but don’t count on it yet. Don’t expect three square meals until I decide that you’ve earned them!

“You will learn not to take anything for granted, not meals, not clothes, not even shelter! If you’re particularly bad, I might well make you sleep outside at times, perhaps even naked! Simon Says, don’t try to run off or escape me if I do! You need this deprogramming, because you’ve been brainwashed by society and its ridiculous morals! You will bend or you will break, but you will not stand up for the same idiotic dogmas ever again!” I told my mother and aunt, both of them now naked, but unrestrained.

“Do we get clothes to eat breakfast in at least?” Mom demanded, a big mistake on her part.

“NO! Simon Says, you will learn to wait until such privileges are earned back and not to ask for them until I’m in the giving vein! Simon Says that you will eat, naked, and not at the breakfast table! That’s for the ladies of the house, such as Stacey, Ellie, and Trish, as well as for the men, such as Uncle Manfred and I, as well as guests of the family! You’re both serving maids here and Simon Says that you will eat at the serving maids’ table ... in the nude!” I insisted as I led the pair to their spot in the dining room, the servants’ table that I bought and had delivered just for them.

Sure enough, Stacey came out with the much blander grits, lightly buttered toast (no jam yet, as it hadn’t been earned), and the most overcooked of the eggs that she made earlier. This was their fate, like it or not, for as long as I deemed necessary to bring them to heel. You might or might not be able to teach an old dog new tricks, but I had to at least try with those two bitches. There was satisfaction in making them suffer, if nothing else. My inner sadist was wide awake and in the driver’s seat at the moment, very much in command.