Chapter 13

Joe’s buddy Paul was in my home while Karen was wearing a very skimpy bikini. He, along with Joe, Claire and Kyle had watched her do jumping jacks and all our children egged her on as if she were a real athlete and not simply a woman whose boobs and cunt flaps were incredibly close to popping free. It was a special moment for me and I don’t want to take away from it by glossing over the event as it was the first time one of the children’s friends had seen her act this way.

Of course Claire had challenged me on my suggestion that they could help their mom with her fitness by asking her to do jumping jacks on command. I was getting into the idea of Karen washing Joe’s and his friend’s cars and Claire didn’t bat an eyelid about that - although Karen certainly seemed to be having a silent panic attack at the thought - but Claire wanted to be pedantic about what me telling Kyle that, ‘not overdoing it’ actually meant.

That challenge was SO like Claire even though she was basically being given a gift of being able to make her mom jump around on command. She didn’t seem to see it as simplistically as that. She wanted to know what the specific parameters were. Not overdoing it was not specific enough for her. So it was okay to go jogging with her mom while Karen was wearing a flimsy bikini that her boobs were always in danger of falling out. It was okay with her that she could decide which items of underwear she’d loan her own mother to wear, after I’d ‘accidentally’ on purpose thrown Karen’s underwear out just so she’d have to beg her daughter’s indulgence. It was even okay to suggest that Claire’s mom could strap sponges to her body and speed up the process of washing a car by rubbing her body all over it, but Claire still wanted to hear exact rules. Claire had reminded me of my job as Karen’s Master even though she didn’t know she had done so.

MY job is to train Karen to be the best she can be. She’s discovered that she loves being a slut and she’s working to become the best, disgusting, trashy, eager whore, she can be. I had given Claire (and others) permission to make her mother do jumping jacks but I’d neglected to make the conditions of that permission black and white. Karen and I had even covered this in our planning for the family meeting so I should have known better. If Karen hadn’t been in front of her children and one of her child’s friends, she absolutely would have asked the same question, I was certain of it. What did, ‘not overdoing it’ actually mean anyway? I decided on the spur of the moment that four times an hour would be fair. That was a hundred jumping jacks an hour if the kids wanted to see her do that many. I confirmed that with Claire.

I motioned Claire to follow me into the kitchen so we could have a private chat. “You’re right, Claire. We’re not trying to kill your mom! Let your brothers know. Give your mother a fifteen minute break between repetitions and if she’s not wearing her heels, remind her to stay on her toes while she does them. You can have her do them in the yard or inside, but keep it to the house for now, huh? She might get in trouble if you told her to do them at school and that wouldn’t be good. We need the insurance her job offers,” I’d reminded my daughter with a chuckle.

Claire seemed overall more satisfied with that more specific answer. She did ask a hard question, though.

“Why, dad? I mean I can see you’re really trying to help mom but don’t you think you’re going too far?” Claire didn’t wait for my answer. Instead, her eyes snapped to mine as a thought struck her. “I get it! You WANT mom to fail! You don’t have to prove anything to US, dad! We already KNOW she’ll give this shit up! Jeez ... I’m more surprised she hasn’t already, if truth be told. Joe and I had this bet she wouldn’t last more than one day and it’s been a week.”

“You had a bet? With Joe? What was the bet?” I asked, a little stunned that my daughter would make bets with her brother at all, much less about their mother.

“It doesn’t matter. But I’ll make one with you. I bet you wouldn’t be like this if I had to do everything mom’s doing. Just think about that. No, that’s a dumb bet. Forget I suggested it. I’m on your side though, dad. I said mom wouldn’t last a day and I was wrong. But I’ll still help, okay?” Claire assured me.

“If you’ll just help your mom by challenging her to do her jumping jacks, that’s all I need for now, pumpkin,” I assured Claire.

“I was right, wasn’t I, dad? You’re not denying it! Hah! I KNEW IT! But I’ve already been helping you! Those bras I’ve been loaning her don’t even fit me comfortably anymore and she’ll fall out of them if she does jumping jacks while wearing one. If you’re really okay with that, fine. She’s already given Kyle an eyeful when she bent over. She’d better not bend like that in front of me though! Where’s she get the stupid idea that she should bend at the waist? No one DOES that anymore!” Claire said dismissively before adding, “But YOU said I could tell her to do jumping jacks in the yard,” Claire reminded me with a smirk.

“I said that because it’s true. Your mom WANTS to be challenged,” I assured Claire, ignoring the first part of her rant on purpose.

“What if I sent mom out into the backyard to do them while she’s just wearing my underwear? She’d refuse for sure but I’d still have to pay the price for just suggesting it and that’s not fair, so you don’t have to worry about me. Mom’s too much of a vindictive bitch for me to sass her like that, dad. I think you’d change your tune too, if the gardener saw mom in her undies anyhow. Imagine that little wetback ogling mom! You really must get real, dad. Mom’s going to bail on this fitness thing anyway. You don’t need to help things along. But I guess you’re going to have to figure that out for yourself, huh?” Claire seemed to come to her own conclusions without my help.

Claire hadn’t talked about the front yard but I was sure it would quickly occur to her that a yard is a yard. I needed to change the subject and get Claire’s mind away from thoughts that I really DID want to humiliate my wife. I didn’t want my daughter coming too soon to the realization that watching my property interact with others gave me a feeling of pride in my wife. I hoped the children would come to that conclusion without me but it was part of our discussion outline to spell it out - that each of us has needs and those needs are fed by the other.

So I hit Claire where she loved to be hit. With a bet. “You like bets, Claire? Fine. Here’s a bet. The next time you see your mother traipsing around the house in your undies, you ask her to immediately do a set of jumping jacks on the back lawn before she even gets dressed. If she gets angry and refuses, you come straight to me. I’ll make sure your mother understands that you’re ONLY trying to help her. But I bet that won’t be necessary. I say she’ll just accept you’re trying to help and she’ll do it without complaint. She knows the backyard is private.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “Suuuurrrrree, dad. Weren’t you listening? Mom will get me back for just suggesting it!” Claire’s tone was completely condescending.

“Oh, so you’re scared of a possible payback for suggesting your mom practice her fitness? What would make it worth your while then? Just asking her, I mean. She’s not an ogre, pumpkin!”

“She IS an ogre sometimes, dad! What planet have you been living on? Fine then. Twenty dollars. Give me twenty bucks and I’ll ask. But remember, if she hits the roof, YOU deal with her.” Claire held out her hand, palm up, waiting for me to put my money where my mouth is. Instead of just laying the twenty on her outstretched hand, I took it in my own and shook to seal the deal while I reminded her that bets only get paid out AFTERWARDS.

Claire smirked as if conceding the point. “Hey, dad? You’re doing good. Keep it up, huh?” Claire said with a wink before she left the kitchen.

Claire’s approval did give me an idea about something she could be helpful with, as far as Karen’s future training went, though. Really, none of the children had acted like I’d expected. Claire had gone jogging with her mom. I’d expected that. What I HADN’T really expected was for Claire to accept her mom would go dressed as she had been then actually accompany her for that particular jog, too. The conversation I’d just had with her never shone any sort of light on what Claire was thinking in that respect.

I’d always thought of my little girl Claire as having become a bit of a prude since puberty. To be faced with the reality of Claire leaving the house to go jogging in a bikini bottom and tee shirt with no bra was uncomfortable to me, but not because I was worried for her safety. It was uncomfortable because I’d been forced to look at Claire as a young woman exploring her boundaries and I hadn’t expected her not to throw a childish tantrum at her mom for how she was dressed, either. I began to wonder how well I really knew my own daughter.

Then there was Joe. Up till now, he seemed like he’d pretty much ignored the spectacle of his mom being in the house, cooking, cleaning and surreptitiously fetching and carrying for me wearing nothing more than underwear and heels. He’d even ignored it when I’d had her wear stockings to match her teddy on Thursday! She looked like a wet dream inside the house and Joe had voiced pretty much no opinion at all about it. Now I find out he’d been making bets with Claire?

Joe’s only problem had seemed to be a worry that her behavior around his friends would reflect poorly on him but when he set out to teach his mom a lesson, it had been him who had learned something. His buddy thought more of HIM because Karen seemed to be so in tune with her sexuality. Joe learned his mom was a woman as much as a mother and I’d caught him checking her out as if seeing her for the first time.

As I’d watched everyone interact from the sidelines, I knew exactly what I was going to suggest Joe help Karen with too, once we’d had our family meeting. Claire was, in my mind, already helping her mom with fitness. The idea I’d had while thinking about Claire was to suggest that Claire could be like a residential fitness trainer for her mom. One who wouldn’t be hamstrung by the rules of public decency they imposed on the patrons of the gym. Kyle was probably still too young to be tasked with anything, but Joe would be perfect for helping Karen with her interpersonal skills. If he agreed, he could be in charge of Karen meeting and interacting with guests to the house in my absence.

He’d angrily introduced his friend to the new and improved Karen and had instead found himself gleefully showing her off. Once he knew that his mom’s place in the household was changed, I could imagine him as overjoyed as I am when I push Karen to perform outside her comfort zone.

These thoughts led me back to Kyle, he’d recently come to me with a question about fidget spinners! It was obvious to me that he saw his mom as sexy as well as being his mom - yet he was finding the sexy woman so much more fascinating than the hardass he knew as a mother. He stared at her ass as much as her tits and he hardly ever looked her in the eye anymore.

I had worried that Kyle might freak out if he saw the plug in his mother’s ass. I didn’t want to unfairly expose him to something he couldn’t unsee. I also didn’t want him to need therapy one day because his mother behaved like a slut around the house. He already knew it was there and had asked about it. I knew those panties were too sheer but that was what Claire had provided her to wear that day and I did like the little black fishnet style.

I also don’t want my son to think of all women as sluts or bitches. I wanted him to respect women in general. However he eventually needed to understand I was training her to be a good slut instead of an obnoxious bitch. Those were my choices. I knew some guys at work who thought they were God’s gift to women and had no respect for females at all. Kyle was nothing like them.

Knowing how to treat others respectfully is an important life lesson Kyle understood and yet the events of the last few months have taught me that it takes all kinds to populate society. There’s no doubt in my mind. Karen WANTS to be treated the way I treat her. If she didn’t, there would have been no dream to live. Our lifestyle gives her pleasure, joy and meaning. Not ALL women are like Karen and that my wife is one of them, makes her just that much more special to me.

That Kyle can still be kind, polite and respectful to a mom who’s mere presence electrifies the air, gave me hope that our youngest could learn the subtle ability to respect when appropriate and hard when called for - agreeable without becoming a female’s plaything. His own mother is so rare and special because she’d recognized the female condition and wanted to recover from its insidious infection. She had recognized a few of her shortcomings and had sought help to deal with them.

In mere weeks, we would be introducing The Dream to the whole household, to include any visitors. The thought alone made my cock twitch. Kyle was learning that females can in fact be more than one thing. More than JUST a mom or a classmate or a friend or a school guidance counselor. He was already discovering that his mom was a mother and a sexy woman too. She’d always been his disciplinarian, but could he learn that she longed for discipline herself? I felt in my heart that my youngest could be empathetic in a whole new way. Empathetic to his mother’s needs. With the help of Claire’s ability to seek specific definition of rules, Kyle could just as easily become a creative force in Karen’s training.

So with Joe’s friend Paul spellbound by Karen’s antics and the promise of her washing his car wearing little more than sponges attached to the tiny bikini, he urged Joe to take him out to the garage to look for the cleaning supplies. Kyle went back to his him game while keeping one eye on his mom. I called Karen to me.

“You did great, Honey. See, it wasn’t so bad meeting one of Joe’s friends and showing them that you’re trying to improve yourself, now was it?” I asked, aware that Kyle was still in the room with us.

“It was very scary, Sir!” Karen whispered. “Thank you for encouraging me,” she finished.

“While you’re waiting on Joe and Paul, head upstairs and work on your journal. I expect to be able to read what you’ve got at bedtime.”

“Yes, Sir. I’ll double-check what I’ve got and update it. I’ll be ready for my affirmation tonight, for sure...” she whispered before mouthing the word, ‘Master’ to me where Kyle couldn’t see.

Excerpt from Karen McGifford’s Journal

I had my feet up in the back seat of my car. Except it wasn’t my car now, though. Mike had given it to my son Joe, a day after we returned from our wild holiday. There were times I thought my dream was a sex game and a fantasy that we could turn off anytime we wanted. Then there were times like this morning, when I realized that there was no way to stop the rollercoaster now that I got on the ride.

I’d never been able to say with a straight face to my son that I wanted my baby back. Mike bought me that Toyota Rav/4 last year and all my friends at school were jealous. Now that he gave it to Joe, it was his and there was no backing out of that.

We had less than a month left until Mike planned to hold a house meeting to talk to our kids about my new role in the house and all the rules. We weren’t going to invite them into the bedroom to watch us have sex, but a lot of my training would be out in the living room, and they’d be aware. Mike and I worked almost every night on clarifying the rules, but they were still a bit of a jumble to me.

The family accepted that I wanted to get fit and change my behavior. They knew I was cleaning, cooking, and being more polite as a result of my annual, “Karen’s New Year/New You” program. I have traditionally started some fad diet or lifestyle change and always abandoned it and given up within the first thirty days. I don’t think any of them believed that I’d stick with any of this behavior for much longer. I don’t blame them for not having faith in me. I have quit so many times before. I told them that their dad was helping me by keeping me on my toes and making me follow the plan.

It was a bit of a lie and it was also the truth. The problem was that in a few weeks, we planned to reveal that there was much more to this than just losing weight. I was not only getting a new attitude adjustment but a complete overhaul. I’d become Honey the House Pet. It scared me shitless, and it thrilled me, too.

I’ll be honest. Even on the ride home from the reunion I still thought there was a chance we’d probably come to our senses and back out of telling them about my training. There were times we agreed that we should tell them EVERYTHING and let the chips fall where they may. Then we’d realize the problems with that. They would most likely be overwhelmed and we felt there was no need to share with them everything we did in our relationship.

We would also talk about telling them almost nothing. Mike had been dangling a little breadcrumbs of information about our lifestyle and seeing if the kids noticed and asked questions. The problem was that a lot of it didn’t make a lot of sense to our kids and I think those things seemed random.

As an example, Master created rules for me in the morning. I was getting up very early and squatting into a bowl to piss and shit and then emptying the bowl into the toilet. I had to hand wash the bowl in the sink and then shave my cunt before he woke up. I woke him with a gentle blowjob at the approved time and then he’d order me into an inspection position and grade my body before he shoved a butt plug in me and spanked my butt.

Then I would usually wear a skimpy lace nightgown with some garters and stockings and wake up the kids. I used to yell and scream at them and in some cases, threaten to pour water over their heads if they didn’t get up. Now I’d go to each room and politely knocked and then softly woke them up politely. The kids liked it, but it wasn’t very effective, and we were often running late as a result of this new rule.

If the kids noticed I never sat down at the breakfast table, they didn’t say anything about it. I was lucky that we live in an age of cell phones because they were often glued to watching Youtube and didn’t engage with anyone. They HAD to notice some of the changes in my behavior and perhaps they were too embarrassed to ask? I was just thankful for small miracles.

Mike had recently made a change to how I ride to school, too. Joe drives, and Claire sits shotgun. I have to sit in the back with Kyle. They all attend the high school where I work as a counselor. It used to be Joe in the front passenger seat while I drove. They didn’t question it when I relinquished the front passenger seat because Claire was just happy to sit up front.

“Mom, why are you sitting like such a weirdo?” Claire noticed how I was sitting today.

Mike’s temporary rule is as follows: 1) When there is more than me and Joe in the car, I get the back seat. 2) Whenever possible, I should have the middle back seat and I should never crowd another back seat passenger. 3)I will sit with at least the heels of my bare feet on the seat - shoes are for outside the car only. 4) My ass should not actually be on the seat but it can be pressed into the backrest for stability in a moving vehicle. 5) I should make my squat look natural while keeping my knees and feet at least six inches apart - Lean forward a little and engage Joe or any shotgun passenger politely - it should appear that I’m very interested in anything they have to say. 6) My shoulders are not allowed to touch the back of the seat either. That’s HARD!

Mike told me that in the future, I would probably be riding to school completely naked and holding my cunt lips apart or stretching my nipples. That was if he lets me keep my job at all after I become a house slave. I was starting to hope he’d tell me to resign because even squatting on the back seat while dressed is incredibly humbling.

“You know why, Claire!” I answered her while keeping the bitchy tone out of my voice - still difficult for me although I’d been a whole lot more placid and calm with the kids since we began living the dream. I used to be snarky and demanding almost ANY time I opened my mouth. I still don’t know if it was entirely the submissive training that reinforced my polite behavior, either. I think at least part of the reason I’ve started being nice to them is that I’m worried once they know I agreed to submit to my husband, that they will think I’m a nut. I’m not, really!

That isn’t true. If I had to be completely honest and I do, I know that they would quickly discover that I have domestic duties to serve the house, and they’d probably rake me over the coals on the first day and run me ragged. Claire definitely might demand I bring her a drink only to change her mind and tell me to take it back. I think I have begun sucking up to them in the hope they’ll feel sorry for me. I know that sounds awful, but it’s mostly a subconscious thing I have been doing.

“So you can air out your meat-flaps? I can see up your skirt! It looks like a baby’s butt between your legs when I look in the backseat,” Claire joked.

I pretended that it wasn’t that bad, but I was sure it was. Mike had me wearing skimpy, sheer dresses with no panties. “I am sitting like this so that I can develop my calf muscles a little more. Didn’t you see the Peloton commercials? I’m toning up because your father’s gift to me is helping me get fit for the new year!”

I changed the subject by apologizing to Kyle as I frequently did for crowding him. I was sitting on the hump seat in the middle of the back. I told him I sat like that for leverage, and it was technically true. It was really because Master had ordered me to sit this way and Kyle is the most agreeable and easy-going of my kids so he doesn’t mind being hip to hip in the backseat.

Mike had created a rule when we first started down this path of living the dream that was very clever. If anyone complains about what I am doing, then I can stop. The problem is that Claire pisses and constantly moans about everything. Mike had to make an exception for the kids that unless it was likely to cost them years of therapy or harm, that I was to grin and bear their complaints and keep on chugging along.

“Mom,” Joe asked casually. “The other day, the neighbor said he thought he saw you doing naked jumping jacks in front of the living room window with the blinds open. I told him he was full of shit. You’ve been doing some crazy stuff lately. Tell me that wasn’t true?” he asked.

Mike had also insisted we not lie to the kids. The problem with that is that if I don’t, we’d probably have to give the house meeting speech before we are ready. We want it to be perfect and we want to have every page in the binder I created, filled out. We are still going through and deciding what is going to be obvious and needs to be explained and what things don’t. I know I shouldn’t second guess my husband’s wisdom, but sometimes I do.

“That is crazy, Joe! What did you tell him?” I offered a non-answer and didn’t confirm or deny. I wasn’t sure how long I’d be able to keep doing that. Master is really pushing the envelope now.

“I said you were probably just doing a workout routine in that skimpy swimsuit of yours!” Joe explained.

A few weeks ago, I had begun jogging around the neighborhood in skin-tight Yoga pants and a top that lets my jugs bounce wildly. My daughter surprisingly joined me and to my dismay, started dressing almost the same. Claire is pretty, but she is no extrovert. I assume she is just trying to shock her father and me by doing what I’m doing. Mike said it’s because she wants to hang out with me and spend time with me on a 1 on 1 activity. Claire is a mini-me, and I couldn’t help but suspect it was probably a bit of both.

Mike decided to amp up the stakes to the nightly jog recently. He bought me several micro bikinis and made a big deal around the house about me having them yet never wear them as if I’d had them forever. “What did I waste my money on these for?” he asked me. It was all fake-drama for the purpose of establishing to the kids that I’d be wearing these from now on when I jogged.

This is an example of a cute tri-top with micro bikini bottoms he chose for me. https://wickedweasel.com/en-us/product/candy-kiss-312-tri-top-457-micro-bottom-bikini?colour=21657

Even Claire wouldn’t dare be caught dead running around the neighborhood in an outfit like this. He also told me to run barefoot. I was doing almost everything barefoot now to build up my pain tolerance to running on hot gravel and pavement. I also have to sit out on the front lawn on the weekends to sun in this outfit and leisurely rub lotion on my body. The neighbors have begun talking about me and a lot of nice old men have started gawking.

Mike is never happy with me just putting on a show, though. He wants me to TALK to them. He expects me to get phone numbers from people I don’t know. I dread having to ask people for their phone numbers. Obviously, he usually wants me to get them from men. Every week he picks 9 numbers at random, and I have to call them. I have to ask how they are doing and flirt with them. If they even infer they want sex, then I arrange it and Mike drops me off at their house at whatever time is convenient for them.

I’ve also fucked Mr. Jenkins. He is the older neighbor who made it a point to watch me and my daughter jog past his house every night. He couldn’t believe I’d really do it, and he was so nervous that his wife would find out, that he almost canceled on me twice. He wasn’t much of a lay either. Mike likes to test my obedience by making me fuck old men and really young guys around Joe’s age.

I’ve also been fucking our gardener. I’ve never bothered to learn his name. I think it’s is Pedro Garcia although I call him Master Garcia now. My husband told me that I have one owner, but I can have more than one teacher use me. He’s promoted Philbert and our gardener to the role of Masters. God that makes me cringe and cream at the same time. They don’t have as much authority over me as Master does but they are both involved heavily in my training now.

Every weekend when the gardener comes, I meet him with lemonade in one of those micro bikinis. I smile and ask him if he wants help today. That is all just for show around the kids. He knows I have to help him. I go out in the backyard and bend at the waist and clip weeds, trim hedges and haul off the heavy tree limbs. I do this without gloves or shoes, and sometimes my hands get blisters. I know the kids think I am nuts, and some of the neighbors have noticed me outside too. My huge nipples poke against the tiny bikini top. I’ve been stretching them in the car frequently and now they are puffy and always sore. I complained to Master Garcia one day that the neighbor was staring at my nipples tenting my bikini bra.

His solution was to give me two strips of sandpaper and to make me wear them on the inside of the bikini to chafe my nipples. It hurts, but God-damn does my pussy juice up every time I insert them into my top! I’ve discovered that pinching my nipples isn’t enough – clothespins and even needles through them have been giving me orgasms lately.

I usually escort Master Garcia to our garage, where I give him head and then eat out his ass. He considers it cheating to have sex with me but says his wife probably wouldn’t mind if he just gets oral sex. I always thought he was an easy-going guy, but he loves to beat me with a bag of oranges in the garage. They don’t leave marks, and it is very brutal. I am always frightened one day Joe is going to walk into the garage and discover us and think the gardener is attacking me.

Master Garcia especially likes turning me into a white-bitch dog. He loves to see me sit up and beg, pant, and roll over like a real dog. He says more white women should be like me and tells me that I am not the only freaky bitch who likes to be treated this way on his route. I wouldn’t have believed there are other women who practice domestic discipline with their husband, but Mike has shown me picture after picture of what appears to be very amateur porn from couples living the dream just like we do. It has helped me resolve to continue the training even though it is constantly being ramped up.

Master says once we the initial house meeting with the kids takes place, things should level off to where he wants them. A few weeks ago, I was going to the gym and discreetly fucking my trainer in the tanning bed. I’d wear something skimpy and tight to the gym. I was definitely not the only woman fucking Tony at the gym. The L.A. Fitness where I go is full of self-absorbed, shallow, narcissistic women my age who love to show off their tight little bodies so I didn’t even stand out in a room full of sluts.

After several weeks, my rules at the gym have also evolved. Master is thinking about talking to Tony about becoming one of my Masters and formally introducing him to the expectations he set for me. Tony is a muscle head and he hasn’t questioned why I do what I do. He probably just thinks I am a sex-starved housewife and doesn’t question it.