Chapter 4

I am going to cover some of the events that started to shape our new relationship over the next few months. Karen’s friends dream-blocked us when they came over. The kids dream-blocked us when their personal drama required Karen to drop her submissive persona and become the problem solver. Karen wasn’t so much a problem solver as she was a referee with a Band-Aid. As an example, Claire stole Kyle’s shoes and hid them.

She teased him and pretended she had no idea where they were. Claire followed her little brother around and made him look all over creation to find them.

Finally, Karen had had enough of Kyle’s pleading Claire to give them back and Claire’s smug denials that she had no idea where the shoes could be. “Give your brother his shoes back!” Karen would usually handle petty little day to day squabbles like that.

I served as the big guns. I only got involved with significant issues like failing report cards, skipping school, and things that were thankfully pretty infrequent. I started to intercede in some of the petty bickerings and back and forth on Karen’s behalf, but it was overkill to get me involved. There was a formula that worked between Karen and the kids. It wasn’t perfect, but they didn’t need me in the middle of the little stuff.

It was Karen’s work where the dream-blocking was consistent and a black box that I had no insight into. I could not be with her at work because I had my own job. It went without saying that Karen was expected to maintain a non-submissive, professional persona at the High School she worked at.

She would frequently come home with the attitude she maintained at work - exactly how she was before the training began. Karen found it challenging to shift gears when she walked in the door. I’d already taken steps to address that. She now changed shoes the moment she got home. The kids were so used to taking their shoes off from the days when they were not allowed shoes in the house but they also didn’t know I REQUIRED Karen to wear footwear inside. And hers were invariably heels, unless she was going jogging or to the gym.

Karen could be a natural submissive in the bedroom, but she still had a lot of room for improvement outside of the bedroom. By making a rule that she had to change shoes the moment she walked in the door, I was providing her a reminder that she was now under my control within the house. The reminder was sometimes though, a little too subtle for Karen.

One event comes immediately to mind for me. “Please get your damned feet off the coffee table, Kyle!” I heard Karen say one afternoon when I’d come home early to change clothes before an important business meeting.

That was how Karen had greeted her youngest child when she’d put her house heels on (that part was easy for her to remember because taking outside shoes OFF had been her own forever rule anyway) and she walked into the living room after work one day. Kyle had been playing video games on the living room console and he didn’t hear her because he had his headphones on.

“Kyle!” Karen repeated, moving to the couch.

“Oh! Hi mom,” Kyle said, flipping his headphones off the back of his head so that they hung up on his neck. His fingers hardly missed a beat as they continued to twist and jerk the controller like he was some kind of maniac while he looked around his mother’s body to see the television.

“MOVE THOSE FEET, BUSTER!” Karen demanded the second time, “Or I may accidentally drop a glass of coke on your controller!” Karen threatened unnecessarily.

Kyle’s feet moved faster than if he’d been bitten on the ankle but he seemed unfazed by her outburst. “Mom, move! I can’t see!” Kyle replied, complaining even as he obeyed.

Karen hesitated then eventually dismissed Kyle’s outburst and moved to the side. “Where’s your sister? I want to get my jog out of the way and if she’s joining me she’d better be ready this time,” Karen grumped.

Kyle didn’t know or care what Claire was doing and certainly not whether or not his sister was ready to go with his mom. “She’s probably in her room. As long as she’s leaving me alone I don’t...”

“So she’s home then. You could have said that,” Karen cut in to accuse her son. He shrugged.

Karen stomped off. It seemed to me like she’d had a hard day and was all set to take her mood out on anyone in her path. At the same time, a couple of things had caught my attention. She’d said please to Kyle and she’d fairly quickly left him to his game instead of forcing him to focus solely on her. She was changing in subtle ways.

Karen knew she could seem vain, selfish, and uptight. She wanted to be gracious, considerate, polite, and humble. She felt that the training was helping her in those areas, but as soon as she got home from school, she would quibble and cut off people before they could finish speaking, just like none of the disciplines had ever happened.

That said, Karen was becoming less and less lazy around the house. I wouldn’t go as far as saying she had become a busy beaver, always doing something, but it could have been a product of working out and jogging that caused her to have more energy. She seemed motivated to stop procrastinating and take on projects she had put off for years around the house.

It was so nice to see her doing something other than sprawling on the couch after being at work for a few hours that I got to thinking. Option A, Karen lounging around with snacks littering the end table and coffee table while watching television shows like Jerry Springer and ‘80’s sitcoms, or option B, fill her day with sexy tasks that she’d have to report to me about. I would have asked her to quit her job but we needed the money and the health benefits provided by working in the public school system.

So instead, I muted my fantasies of Karen spending hours each day practicing her blowjobs or keigal exercises on dildoes stuck to the closet mirrored doors and instead texted her naughty ideas I’d have during the day. Sometimes I’d send her pictures I found on Twitter of some submissive getting whipped or disciplined with the caption, “Thinking of you!”

Some of my ideas were challenges, others were directives. She didn’t do all of the challenges but we certainly fantasized about them via text.

One challenge I gave Karen revolved around an event the volleyball team at Karen’s school had organized. That week Claire had asked me to take my car to a school car wash. It seemed so unlike Claire to request I do that, I had to ask why. Claire was considering trying out for the team and she was hoping to show school spirit for once.

I contacted the school, spoke to the organizer and found out that volunteers were definitely welcome. Unexpectedly, Claire was very happy when I told her Karen wanted to help too, to show we both supported school athletics.

Thanks to me, Karen showed up in something super skimpy even compared to the girls - except Claire. I thought Claire would be a little embarrassed to be seen with her mom and that she’d pretend she didn’t know Karen. You see I pulled out Karen’s fire engine red, Wicked Willy swimsuit that was a thong with a couple of tiny triangle shaped pieces of material connected to a string that the designer called a bra. The bra barely covered Karen’s nipples and generally refused to hold Karen’s boulders in place anyway. A quick movement and her tits were set free.

A thin white tee and a pair of cutoff daisy duke shorts I cut even more off, complimented a pair of high heeled boots and made her look like she was about to hit the stage at a strip club.

Karen played it off like it was nothing, even though she was secretly mortified. It made it better, she said, that a couple of the volleyball girls drooled over her outfit. When Claire turned up wearing a bikini bottom and a matching lime green tee with flip flops on her feet, Karen desperately wanted to send her daughter home again because Claire was once again braless.

By the time I brought my mustang in, both Karen and Claire were soaked and everyone seemed to be having a ball - especially the group of male customers! There was a line of cars waiting for their wash and it was the biggest car wash turnout the school later said they’d ever seen.

I spotted Kyle with his little friends there, trying to be subtle about taking pictures of the volleyball girls just like I’d done at his age - although I had used a disposable camera and never got half the pictures I’d taken developed. I saw him before he’d even spotted Claire or Karen but when he did, it was obvious that he didn’t know WHAT to do! He seemed horrified that his sister and mom would be there looking so hot but at the same time pleased his friends seemed so excited about his family members.

His friends stopped pretending they were snapping casual selfies with volleyball playing car wash girls in the background and instead went crazy just snapping pictures and taking video of Claire and Karen. Kyle tried to stop them at first, but they must have convinced him it was okay and he even eventually gave in and took what seemed like tons of pictures too.

That night, I asked Kyle if I could see some of the pictures he took. He looked anywhere except at me as if I’d caught him red handed sneaking my booze from the liquor cabinet but he did hesitantly offer me his phone while telling me he hadn’t known I was there. I did my best to reassure him that I thought it was great that he was supporting his mom and sister by catching their fundraising efforts for posterity.

There were a total of 10 pictures dedicated to volleyball girls (and not fake selfies), even though they too were mostly wearing shorts and tees over their more modest swimsuits - although like Claire, some of these girls wore bikini bottoms instead of shorts. Then there were more than 100 pictures of either Claire or Karen. Karen’s boobs were caught in one set of about 10 zoomed in pictures that cut off her head and legs, taken in quick succession showing them swaying from left to right and back again as if in slow motion.

On these pictures Karen’s bikini bra was obvious through the tee as well, although bunched between her cleavage not even pretending to cover anything. She may as well have been topless but the wet tee actually made her look MORE than topless! I kept my mouth shut so I wouldn’t embarrass Kyle and just once again thanked him for helping out with documenting our pretty much unplanned family event.

Our gardener showed up at the car wash with his son, as my car was being finished. I watched him point at Karen and talk to his son. It was amusing to watch their animated conversation while they were discussing something I couldn’t hear in what was probably Spanish anyway. Later, Karen who was much closer to them and pretty good at that sort of thing, told me that she’d followed their conversation as much as she could.

“I definitely heard, “La Cucaracha, aye-aye-aye, that slut over there, she squats naked with a rubber dildo in her mouth! White people are crazy, Aye, Cucaracha!” Karen told me she’d heard some of it and read their lips to fill in the gaps. It’s not like the car wash was being conducted in silence, you understand!

“That’s so racist!” I said and wondered out loud if it wasn’t Karen’s imagination making the conversation sound the way she shared it. It made me realize how much Karen looked down her nose at lowly Hispanic gardeners and she was justifying her opinion of his heritage by falsely surmising he’d said things he hadn’t.

Luckily, my car was done and I’d left before some old biddy claiming to be a student’s parent, confronted Karen, angrily denouncing her wet tee shirt as a disgraceful and obscene form of dress since her nipples were easily identifiable. Karen took this as authorization to leave and amid boos and catcalls at the old woman from the waiting patrons, Karen told Claire it was time to go.

The girls on the volleyball team unanimously begged Karen to ignore the old biddy but Karen knew our private dare rules. She pulled Claire out of there, to the considerable consternation of her daughter. Karen had to wait on the street for me to arrive and pick her up. Claire refused to wait with her and she walked home.

Claire was angry with her mom and was home for an hour before she even made her presence known so I could go pick up my bedraggled wife from off the side of the road where I’d told her to wait for me - although I hadn’t expected to be picking her up for at least another hour. Karen had continued to do her bit to promote the car wash, as MANY motorists had slowed to have a good look at her - honking and catcalling her to her immense embarrassment, before they ever saw the car wash signs.

For days after that, Claire berated her mom at any opportunity for humiliating her by bowing to the old hag’s wishes and leaving. She said being forced to leave with her mommy had made her look like a kid in front of her older ‘friends’, none of whom she personally knew well.

Inside the school buildings on Karen’s work days, our dares and challenges bloomed too. A recurring fantasy we shared included me coming to her work, locking her office door and having my way with her.

I said I texted Karen a lot at work, however Karen rarely sent suggestions of her own to me. She was kept quite busy anyway, but also afraid that searching porn on the school wi-fi would get her in trouble. She certainly didn’t mind me sending her pictures, though. She frequently asked if I thought the two women I sent her frequent pictures of, really lived as slaves or if they were just posing as models with their backstories a complete fabrication.

A lot of the amateur stuff, especially from Germany or some trailer park in Appalachia, gave us the impression that these two were definitely not models. The pictures of what looked like real people in Master/slave relationships fed our imagination and inspired more of the dream.

One scene in particular that inspired and amazed us both was a woman named Rachel Greyhound. She was kept completely bald and had been gifted an amazing boob job. Her Master kept her in discipline 24/7, according to the website where you could subscribe to watch her. The video clips on the site showed her fucking herself up and down a ladder of dildos or breaking rocks outside in a rural setting. There were even very popular videos; hours of footage of her sleeping in her cage. The first time I sent the pictures to my wife, she texted back. “Mmm, she really is living the dream! What do you think she does when her family comes to visit?” She didn’t ask if I thought Grayhound really lived the way the website said she did.

I texted back, “Maybe they are open and honest about their lifestyle, and she hopes they will understand or at least accept her choices?” My wife texted back a smiley emoji and then a poop emoji. “Yeah, right! I bet that bitch puts on the thickest sweater she can and pretends she sells stuff on ETSY. Did you see her nipples, Sir? They look like they are permanently hard!”

We used to text about what we wanted for dinner or things the kids were doing, but now our days were filled with conversations like this via text messages. I don’t know how Karen got anything done on days she worked, but it certainly made time fly for me. My wife didn’t always call me Sir or Master in text messages either, but she usually did even though I never told her to. She also began texting me to ask for permission to use the bathroom.

I think it really was Karen who started that before I asked her to do it. It wasn’t like I had any way of knowing if she was going without permission or not. I do know if it had been my idea, I would have made her use explicit language in her first request. I liked to hear my wife ask permission in the most vulgar way because imagining the look on her face as she did it, was priceless. I knew she’d look mortified but like a naughty schoolgirl who was whispering something dirty in my ear that she knew she’d get in trouble for saying, if anyone heard.

I told her polite ladies asked to use the bathroom but whores and sluts like her, shit and piss like the pets they are. I insisted she ask in the most obscene language, “Master, may I please be permitted to piss and shit?” I let her whisper her request in my ear when the kids were home, of course.

I never denied her permission or even made her wait. I thought about how much fun it would be to watch her do the pee-pee dance the way Kyle did when Claire was in their shared bathroom way too long! I did give her a time limit of no more than five minutes. If she went over that at home, I’d spank her in the bedroom.

So I insisted Karen ask that same way in text messages. I also made her text a picture of the clock before and after she went to the bathroom to prove she didn’t go over her time limit. I knew she could easily fake it, but I could tell from her reaction she liked it when I was vigilant and checked up on her. What I didn’t have, was a plan to remotely discipline her if she DID go over her allotted time. Twice she did and I had to make her wait and imagine how she’d be corrected when she arrived home.

It was as if Karen didn’t trust herself not to be tempted to cheat on a rule. She’d always cheated on her workout routines and gave up on her New Year’s resolutions every January but more now than at any time since I’d married her, Karen really was trying.

I’d felt like Karen might find it silly to send pictures of the clocks since I had the time she texted me to ask permission on the phone, but she obliged me. At the time, I was always tempted to tell her to send me a video of her sitting on the toilet. I didn’t, simply because I thought it might seem like overkill, but Karen thrived on my checking up on her and being nosy.

The first time, she got a spanking. The second, I was more creative. I’d purchased two sets of ben-wa balls online. Each set was three balls, about half the size of golf balls. Buy one, get one set free, so I had two sets. The idea of them is they’re unbalanced balls that go in a woman’s vagina and make her very aware of their presence when she moves around.

That day, when I got home from work, Karen was waiting for me with my house slippers ready. She looked absolutely delicious in the outfit I’d sent her to work wearing and her new house shoes were a full inch taller than any other pair she’d ever owned.

“Bedroom,” I simply muttered, in case little ears were around. In a barely audible voice I added, “Bitch”. Karen knew immediately why we’d be going to the bedroom.

“Yes, Sir. Thank you Sir,” she quietly and submissively replied.

Without further word, she kissed my cheek and spun on her heel, as if in a hurry to do my bidding. That alone made my cock twitch. Instead of following her right away, I toured the house and found only Kyle home, in his room playing his online games. I knocked on his cracked bedroom door and saw him at his console, the real world around him forgotten until he caught me peeking.

We spent a minute or two together while I watched him play his game. I knew immediately that he’d beat the crap out of me if I ever made the mistake of wanting to learn what the controller buttons did but it was certainly impressive watching him in action. I was proud of my son’s ability with that little electronic device and he seemed pleased when I said so.

After giving Karen plenty of time to prepare herself and imagine what she’d be in for, I moved to our bedroom. Karen was inside the door, naked, bent over holding her ankles. Her little butt plug was already on the bedside table.

“Did I tell you to assume that position?” I fake-chided her, making her rethink trying to anticipate what was coming.

I watched her back muscles flex as she tried to decide if she should stand back up or stay where she was. After a few seconds, I could tell that she had decided to follow through with her initial idea.

“I’m sorry, Master. I thought...”

“You’re not here to think, Bitch,” I laughed quietly as I interrupted her apology. I knew she’d take that as a playful jab at her. I was right. Her cheeks colored and I swear I saw the very first drop of girl goo leak from her cunt.

“Would you prefer I knelt, or stood up, Master?” she asked in a breathy voice already full of lust.

“No, I think that position will suffice for what I have in store for you, my sloppy little Bitch,” I said, moving forward and touching the spot of moisture between her nether lips before lifting that finger to my own lips.

Karen let out a sigh at the touch but then a groan when she realized I was in motion again, this time moving to her lingerie drawer where we kept the sex toys and punishment instruments. The drawer wasn’t being used for underwear anymore, so I’d repurposed it. I couldn’t tell if the moan was because she thought I’d be caning her or simply because I hadn’t finger fucked her.

Instead of pulling out a crop or cane, I pulled out the little boxes containing the ben-wa balls. My back was to her so she couldn’t see. I purposefully kept my hands hidden so that when I returned to her backside, she had no idea I wasn’t holding something to punish her with. Or at least punish her how she’d expected.

“I see you anticipated me fucking you, you slut,” I casually commented about the butt plug on the nightstand as I lifted the lid of the first box.

“Only after you punish me for taking too long in the bathroom, Sir. I’m really sorry for that but it wasn’t my fault. Cynthia...”

“No excuses, Bitch. I gave you five minutes and you took closer to ten! You should have ensured the bathroom would be free before you began, or selected another bathroom. I’m sure the school offers more than one.”

“Yes, Sir. But the principal frowns on staff using the kids’ bathrooms.”

“I said, no excuses!” I slapped her butt hard, leaving a handprint on her left cheek.

“I know, Sir. Thank you for the reminder. That was one. May I have another?” Karen asked even though I hadn’t told her I was going to spank her or do affirmations, much less tell her how many spankings I was going to give her.

“You’re assuming, Bitch. I’ll spank you for that later. Right now, I have another idea on how to correct your behavior. It’ll help you remember to plan better in future. Without warning, I fed her hungry pussy one of the ben-wa balls. It slipped into her as if being sucked inside. With a nod of approval, I fed a second in too.

“Your pussy stole my balls. It must be very hungry this evening,” I joked.

“Oh gawd, yessir!” Karen replied.

The second two balls were more of a challenge. They went into her asshole. Once they were in, I had Karen stand up.

“Will they stay inside by themselves? I asked, presuming she knew I meant the balls.

“They feel weird, Master.” Karen was close to giggling as she carefully gyrated her hips. “They feel nice. I hope they stay inside!”

“Good. They’d better,” I warned her without voicing a consequence. “I have two more for you, as well. Open your other cock hole, cunt!” I demanded.

Karen obediently opened her mouth and poked her tongue out at me playfully. I popped the last two balls into her mouth. “You’re going to keep these balls inside your holes for the rest of the evening but you will rotate them every 15 minutes. You have 1 minute to move the ones in your ass to your mouth, the ones in your mouth to your cunt and the ones in your cunt to your asshole.”

“But the kids will be home soon, Sir and I have to make dinner, yet!” she complained.

“Your point? You didn’t ask if you were to use the bathroom for the exchange or if I expect you to switch them out wherever in the house you happen to be. That’s what surprises me more, slut.” I said with a smirk.

I really had intended for her to use the bathroom every 15 minutes but the thought of making her change them in the kitchen was pretty exciting to me too.

“So can I, Sir?” Karen tried to slip a half-formed request by me.

“You most certainly can change them out wherever you happen to be,” I replied, purposefully misinterpreting the question.

“I meant can I use the bathroom to change them, Master. You knew that!” she accused in somewhat of a garbled voice with the two balls in her mouth.

“Maybe you’ll learn to keep your trap shut until you’ve figured out a whole question in future, huh?” I raised an eyebrow before taking pity on her. “If the kids are around while you’re exchanging them and they say something, then you can use the bathroom after that. If they don’t complain, just be careful not to give them an eyeful. They’re kids, Bitch. I don’t think they’d enjoy seeing their mother shit out ben-wa balls as much as I would.”

“Yes, Master. I have to change out the balls every 15 minutes, no matter what part of the house I’m in and I have to do it so that the kids don’t catch me. This is until bedtime? What if I ... you know ... get too excited?”

“That’s your punishment, slut. You are not allowed to cum. If you do, you’ll spend the whole night tied to the bedpost with all 6 balls in your mouth and you will hope none of the kids has a nightmare.”

The fact was that I’d be no wiser if she DID climax. Like the bathroom thing though, I was sure Karen would tell on herself if she did cum. Added to the equation was Kyle. Kyle still had the occasional nightmare that would bring him unbidden to our bedroom in the middle of the night. It hadn’t happened in a few months, so I hadn’t been surprised the most recent time, when I awoke looking instead of at Karen, but at Kyle’s unruly mop of hair on my pillow. That meant it was kind of overdue and Karen knew it too.

“Oh god, Master! That’s going to be HARD! They feel so good,” Karen gushed, still gently rotating her hips.

Dinner that night was interesting. Karen said very little, so as not to garble her words, but when her phone discreetly chimed, she was forced to cough the balls out of her mouth while the kids were busy shoveling food, so they didn’t notice. She then immediately decided that everyone needed more soda from the fridge and quickly stood up to provide the extra drinks even though Joe’s glass was still untouched. I watched as her face contorted in pleasure at the abrupt movement.

At the fridge with the kids’ backs to her, she carefully bent her knees to push the balls out of her ass while holding the last two in her cunt. I’d never considered how difficult that had to be but Karen had the process under control by that point.

The look on her face when she popped the ass balls into her mouth was another priceless one, but she didn’t hesitate. Within seconds, she was ‘restocked’ with balls and sodas for everyone.

“Hey mom, are you going to go to the parent teacher thing this semester?” Claire asked out of the blue.

Claire didn’t usually care whether her mom went or not, since she could talk to Claire’s teachers any time she wanted. It was almost as if Claire was just making conversation because she thought something was off about Karen being so quiet.

“No,” Karen replied, keeping her words to a minimum.

I couldn’t help it. I had to play with Karen. “Why not? It would give Claire’s teachers a chance to brag on her. I’m sure she’s doing well after all,” I suggested, looking at Karen and noting how the ben-wa balls in her mouth made her cheeks bulge a little even though she was doing her best to hide their presence.

“Then, yes Sir,” Karen managed.

“Great! We could go together. When is it?” I asked Karen, but Joe jumped in helpfully, Dream-blocking my game.

“Next Monday and Mr Griffiths wanted to see you anyway, dad. He thinks I should go for an athletic scholarship. Pretty cool, huh?” Joe was pretty proud of that.

Dinner had become a wonderful experience for me to be a part of and even though the kids were doing their share of dream-blocking us, I knew Karen was determined not to be bound to the bedpost for the night where she could possibly be discovered. She won that competition. According to her, it was by a ‘cunt hair’, too. She said she nearly swallowed the balls a couple of times, too!

As I’ve said, we chatted a lot more during the day via text and Karen expressed her pleasure in a variety of ways for me. Karen flashed around the school when she was sure nobody was looking. It was incredibly daring and would have gotten her in BIG trouble if she was ever caught. Imagine seeing the hot guidance counselor opening her blouse and taking a selfie in a hallway when she thought nobody was looking. She also sent pictures of herself masturbating in the bathroom when I gave her permission to pleasure herself. I did exactly the same a couple of times, while looking at her pictures.

The subtle changes in Karen were becoming more and more pronounced and consistent. I don’t think Karen or I even realized the extent to which it was happening at first.

Karen became much more agreeable. She’d always been a shoot-from-the-hip woman who would speak her mind no matter who was around, and she’d say what she was thinking no matter who was listening. That had not changed at all, but subtle changes persisted. As an example, picking a restaurant, used to be my nightmare. If you are married, then you know the drill.

“Where do you want to go, honey?” the husband asks.