Chapter 2

The first month of her submission was hardly, ‘starting small’ by Karen’s standards, yet at the same time, despite her complaints and resistance, Karen made it through without once throwing in the towel.

At first, the idea of regularly occurring anal sex had scared the crap out of her and the night I made her ask for it had been like squeezing lemon juice out of a stone - actually the look Karen gave me was quite similar. I had tied her naked to the bed with her knees either side of her head and had played with her ass for quite a long time, including lots of lube, applied with my probing fingers and thumbs. I didn’t touch her clit at all, despite how much she began to beg for my touch there. That’s when I dropped my bombshell.

“You’re not getting off until you make me believe you WANT my cock in your ass, cunt-breath. What good is a three hole slut if you don’t begin begging for a cock in there? It’s going in anyway so you may as well get used to it,” I reasoned. In my mind, this was the most basic of stuff, right up there with accepting me as her Master.

We weren’t even close to living her dream as she described it to me, but we had set off in that direction. She wasn’t being hung from trees with huge butt-plugs shoved up her ass to be plucked like a ripe apple by anyone who passed, but she was discovering a new mindset that had never existed for her before her dream.

Our sex life was better than ever as we fantasized in the bedroom, about things like that happening. The house was still cluttered and at times chaotic. It was going to be, with three young kids living there. It was however, a lot more manageable than it had ever previously been.

I had established three kinds of lessons with Karen in her introduction to submission.

Sexual training was almost always in the bedroom or when we were alone. I’d begun regularly fucking her in the ass and feeding her a delicacy I referred to as, ‘face hole’ cock, much more frequently than using her cunt. Her cunt had been well used over the years for giving HER pleasure, so I was teaching her that sex wasn’t always supposed to be all about her desires and it was more than just acceptable for her to WANT to please me over getting a few orgasms.

Not only that, it was way past time to make her other holes as experienced as her cunt hole. After sucking me to completion, I’d always make her show me my cum in that hole before permitting her to swallow it. By the end of the first week, Karen was able to clean off my cock without dry heaving, even after it had splooged in her ass. I was very proud of her for that because it had been quite a challenge to get her to that point. She’d initially resisted the idea of enemas, but my insistence, and a number of corrections, seemed to make the idea of filling her guts with warm water more appealing even though she had to do it under close supervision and could only release on my command. The application of an enema before fucking her ass, ended up making all the difference to her the first time and it was nice hearing her thank me as she expelled shitty brown water from her ass into the toilet before the second time I had her clean my ass-lubed cock.

I didn’t always give her an enema before I fucked that hole, but she quickly came to think of it as a treat to be completely clean back there before cleanup time came. Other times I didn’t wash her ass out first, just because I loved to see the look of anguish on her face before she slipped my brown-streaked cock between her lips. To me, both pre and post-fucking enemas had their appeal. Especially post-enema ass fucking where she had to drip my cum onto the floor and lick it up once she was done cleaning ME up. Karen eventually developed quite a taste for cum. And to think, the first time she’d ever tried to swallow it, she’d nearly thrown up in disgust. Wow, how things can change when a person is prepared to change.

This was a huge change for Karen. She had a conservative upbringing and was resistant to doing dirty things but once I ignored her protests and forced open the floodgates within her, she realized she wanted more. Needed more. Just like in her dream.

We talked a lot about involving other people in using her and she enjoyed that fantasy too, but we didn’t immediately act upon it. I should be more clear right from the start. When she talked about it as an absolute flight of fantasy, it appealed to her to the point that she got flushed, her nipples got rock hard and she started to stink like the horny whore she can be - until I suggested we would absolutely be making that happen. Then her demeanor and opinion changed. Moving the idea from high fantasy to the realm of future activity, was one hell of a battle at first. Karen got quite obnoxious and required a substantial correction before she accepted it was my fantasy too and okay with me. It was my first experience of Karen’s morals fighting against her desires.

Protocol training involved calling me Sir, even in public. She got a few startled looks from the kids and played it off as sarcasm until they became used to it. It came out haughty at first, the same way a stuck up waitress calling you, ‘Sir’ does when she is being a bitch about a check that she has wrong. I let that slide - at least she was doing it. After regularly hearing Karen call me Sir, Claire even joked once, early on, that she’d like to be called ma’am by her mom, too. That definitely got me to thinking. Anyway, I started changing how Karen dressed. I made a few rules such as me picking out her outfits. I never included a bra and panties unless I expected those to be exposed when she bent over. I had her in tight spandex yoga pants for her trips to the gym and I actually made her go, instead of her making excuses not to.

I didn’t allow her to cross her legs when she sat on furniture at home and I only allowed actual furniture-sitting when the kids were home - mostly. I taught her a signal that she had to look for as if seeking permission to sit. When we were alone, she had to kneel for me and the complaints about her knees were damned annoying at first and generated a lot of corrections, including kneeling in a cookie pan of rice - she hated that.

But I persevered, insisting she kneel at my feet when we were by ourselves until it became a ‘thing’ that was as automatically her as flopping onto the couch had previously been.

The third lesson was the obedience training. I was making Karen jog twice around the block each night, now. The kids thought it was another one of her exercise kicks that she was going to give up on, in a few weeks. It was fun watching her tits jiggle and bounce as she waved at long time neighbors and pretended she didn’t mind or notice them ogling her fleshy funbags bouncing around with no support inside thin tops. She’d come home so full of adrenalin from the attention and humiliation that she’d fuck my brains out even though she was exahusted and out of breath.

One evening I walked in on Claire having a confrontation with Karen.

“You make me wear a sports bra and you’re off bouncing those fat tatas and wide ass of yours for all the neighbors? Don’t you think you’re making some pervy neighbor’s day? You’re all, ‘do as I say and not as I do!’ I should be allowed to run without a sports bra, as well. But I have some pride, mooootheeeeer,”Claire said, drawing the word out in a way designed to make Karen feel cheap and old. “I’d only do it for the football team, not creepy old men like Mr Jenkins who comes out EVERY day to watch you jog past.” Claire complained.

“You’re making such a big deal out of a little fat jiggling? You should be pleased that I’m finally taking care of it! You’re going to be the lard ass compared to me when I get in shape and people stop believing I’m your MOTHER and start thinking I’m your older sister,” Karen predicted with a cutting sneer towards her daughter. “Anyway, I don’t have to wear a bra because it gets too sweaty and I want to build up the muscles that keep the girls from drooping more than they already do. It’s plainly obvious you don’t run anyway, so what do you care?” Karen justified herself while accusing Claire of being fat too.

I could tell that Claire was hurt by her mom suggesting that about her, but Karen’s harsh words had caused Claire to stomp off without much more of an argument.

“You’ll NEVER be hotter than me, bitch!” Claire insisted as she stomped off.

I was sure Karen hadn’t come up with those excuses off the cuff. She’d probably practiced while she WAS bouncing all around the neighborhood, but I also noticed that Karen was annoyed about being called out by her daughter.

Later, Claire cornered me and asked if I thought she was fat. “Mom’s such a bitch, sometimes,” She complained. I could run circles around her while she lumbers down the sidewalk with her fat ass knocking her off balance every step of the way,” Claire exaggerated Karen’s size 8 to make it sound like she was a hippo stuffed into a gazelle’s spandex. “And she’s not gonna keep it up, like everything else she starts anyway. But do you think I should run, too?” She asked, sounding uncertain - which was very unusual for my daughter but only as unusual as Claire seeking my advice in the first place.

“I think you should talk to your mom about it. Personally, I think it’s a fine idea. Maybe if you challenge her to a race and win, you could win a little respect, too?” I suggested, planting a seed in my daughter’s mind, that I knew would grow.

That night we had a discussion about the female family member’s spat and Karen played it off as a way of stopping Claire from asking more questions. Karen couldn’t deny it but didn’t have an answer when I told her she’d allowed Claire to push her buttons and that I was going to suggest a way to work on that particular personality flaw. I told her that if Claire asked to join her on her run and if Claire could beat her in a fair race, she was to offer to treat ALL the kids with extra respect as part of any bet Claire suggested.

I knew Karen and I knew Claire. Both were very competitive and it would only be a matter of time before the challenge was issued. It took longer than expected, but it did happen. In the meantime, as I already said, I made Karen go to the gym, too. Twice a week. I was hedging my bets with Claire and Karen, although I had something else in mind for Karen. I encouraged her to flirt with the young guys there, now that she’d accepted that it was okay with me, for her to overtly do it.

“You want to me to cheat on you? For real?” Karen had asked, the first time I demanded a report on her sexual activities at the gym.

“No. It isn’t cheating if I know about it,” I explained calmly.

“Mike!”

“What, Karen? You couldn’t get any of those gym rats anyway!” I scoffed at her. Okay, I used reverse psychology on her but it was an approach that had worked before. What can I say? It appealed to her competitive nature.

“Challenge accepted!” Had been Karen’s response.

The first time she convinced a guy to let her suck his cock, she took a picture with his dick in her mouth and sent it to me. She was glowing about it for a week. I smiled too, because I knew why she did it. I told her after her she crowed for a while, “I love you Karen. You may share your mouth with someone but you know who you belong to.”

Karen eyes lit up because she agreed and since it was ‘only’ oral sex, she hadn’t revisited her moral dilemma about cheating.

There were unexpected benefits to Karen’s submission, too. She was keeping the house cleaner, without being told exactly what needed to be done, but in my opinion, she was still failing miserably. The first thing I noticed, was that she wanted praise for wiping a counter or running a vacuum cleaner. As far as I was concerned, housework was an expectation. She should have been doing it properly all along. Before all this fetish stuff began between us, it had been a condition of her remaining employed after we married. So instead of praising her, I began inspections of the house. I brought out a notebook and walked around, writing things down.

Karen was dying to know what was in it. I told her that on Sundays, I would go through what she did well and what she needed to improve on at a family meeting.

“Mike, you’re not serious!” Karen looked worried at those words.

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” I held up the notebook. “You’d better get your shit together and begin paying attention, is all I can say right now.”

The kids had absolutely no interest in participating in a review of the week’s housekeeping. They were too busy with their video games and personal dramas. The first time we sat down as a family to review it, Joe and Claire checked out after a few minutes. Kyle remained interested but that was Kyle being Kyle. He was just being polite. I structured my feedback to provide Karen with one positive thing she did right, one constructive thing she could improve on and one negative thing which, in my opinion, she’d fucked up on. Naturally, Karen focused on the positive thing.

“The counters were completely cleared for the first time in a month, this week. I was pleased to see that you finally took care of the toaster crumbs that have been driving me nuts, when you polished the toaster and put it up. You should have properly cleaned the coffee machine when you cleaned the pot, though. That’s gone for weeks since it was last cleaned and a quick wipe wasn’t enough. What disappointed me most though, was when I glanced at the floor while I was inspecting the coffee machine. There’s crud buildup in the corners where the cabinets meet the tile floor! What the hell, Karen? Do you NEVER clean the floors in the kitchen?” I demanded an answer and instead for an excuse.

Of course even with just Kyle present for the whole first meeting, I didn’t punish her or provide any consequences for her to learn from, but I could tell that me asking about the floor had embarrassed her in front of Kyle.

“Use an old toothbrush and get down there as soon as we finish this review,” I instructed her casually as if she always used a toothbrush to clean floors.

“There’s a big scrubbing brush under the sink that’ll work,” she replied.

“It’s not what you’ll use though, is it Karen? You want to get good at this stuff. Use the tools that will do the job to my satisfaction and there won’t be a need to address it again,” I said calmly while letting her know that my decision was not open for debate. “In fact, bring a second one. I’m sure you’ll find a place to store it.”

I moved on with my review, quickly running out of things she’d done well or that needed constructive criticism to improve. Most of it was what I felt she could have done ten times better with effort, or that she had missed entirely. I mean, who dusts AROUND ornaments? That was just plain lazy!

What was surprising to me was that Karen expected to be punished for the negative things, though. She just didn’t want to ask me to do it. When I later checked on Karen doing the corners as I’d instructed, I lifted her skirt with the toe of my shoe and saw the handle of a second toothbrush between her cheeks. The bristles were either in her cunt or up her ass, I couldn’t be sure. Without bending down and parting her cheeks or having her do it for me, I couldn’t tell and knowing the kids were home, I didn’t want to risk investigating.