Chapter 6

As told by Karen McGifford...

I stripped in the car without being told and buckled myself in. One tit was hanging while the other was crushed in place by the belt. I held my pussy lips without being told as well.

“You showed good restraint until the very end, Honey,” Master called me by my stripper name.

I rolled my eyes and looked at my feet. He didn’t see because he was driving us away. Two different strippers were outside smoking pot as we left the parking lot.

“The reason I let you speak was that I wanted them to hear why you’re doing this and what you’re getting from it, from you. I was very proud of how you tried to explain our relationship,” Master said.

“They wouldn’t listen and didn’t understand it at all! They think I’m just a dumb whore, Master.” I was close to crying and I don’t know why I was so upset. I do know I shouldn’t have let them have the power to make me feel bad about myself.

“That’s because THEY are dumb whores and that is their only frame of reference,” Master said as he lifted my chin and dried my eyes. “You are the smartest whore I’ve ever known,” he joked.

I smiled at that and it cheered me up. On the way back to the hotel we talked about them a lot.

“I bet the boys are used to them walking around in their stripper clothes when they come home from work,” Master said. He said boys raised in that environment probably aren’t as curious about female anatomy. “It’s probably not this huge taboo to them,” he said.

I replied that I had heard there were nudist resorts that are family friendly and people have a healthy and positive body attitude but that I didn’t think this was the same. “There is no way you can look at Cheyenne naked and think about body positive stuff. She looks like a sex beast when she’s naked,” I declared.

My husband didn’t know what I meant and I wasn’t sure how to explain it. I told him she has piercings in her nipples and clit that protrude and I noticed that they’re shaped like tiny dicks. She has bible verses held by naked demons on her body. There were dirty words about cumming on her and kissing her ass mixed in with the hearts and erotic symbols on her thighs and ass. She looks like lust personified to me - custom built for sex and nothing more.

“Yeah, I see what you mean. If you look at the statue of David, he’s just a guy who happens to be naked. Your cousin looks like she’s ready to get gang banged and there’s nothing natural or pure about her. She’s some guy’s idea of a wet dream. A pure fuckhound!” Master said excitedly.

“Is that what you want for me?” I asked him sheepishly if he’d like me to look the same way. “Eventually, yes,” Master said and he didn’t explain it any further.

I sat in silence for a while contemplating what I’d look like as a fuckhound with piercings, nasty tattoos and Master’s name written permanently on me declaring to anyone who saw me, as property. My husband told me to pull my nipples and stretch them out. I barely registered his command as I imagined myself with the words, “cum on my ass” tattooed on me and some of the things Master liked to write on my body with magic markers or lipsticks, permanently displayed where anyone who looked at me naked or dressed would know instantly I was a plaything and a whore.

We drove down an old dirt road in darkness for a while. “I think if I explained to them in more detail about BDSM, they might have understood it, Sir” I said after a long pause.

“You could explain until their titties shrivel up and fall off and they wouldn’t understand it. The only way to make girls like them learn about discipline, is to give it to them!” Master said emphatically.

I could tell he was thinking about spanking both of their asses. They had acted like total self-absorbed, greedy bitches. Even when they were together they were in constant competition. They made fun of Mike but then they tried to seduce him into buying dances from them. They were shallow and seemed like they just use people and scammed them.

“Maybe they wouldn’t need to understand it,” I offered that it would be best if they just accepted my decision.

“Why do you care what those two dumb twats think? It isn’t like they will ever see you again,” Master said.

“I don’t know why, Sir. Before you first started training me I didn’t generally care about what people thought about me. I cared about the students at my school and about my family. I didn’t really care about how anyone saw me. I just did my job and when I came home, I’d yell and scream and settle disputes with the kids so I could get enough peace to relax. I didn’t care if my kids saw me as a relentless bitch and I didn’t really care why they were arguing about whatever, just that they’d stop when I solved their petty problems. I would tune out everything and watch TV because I wanted to destress and let them manage themselves.”

“So you’re saying you DIDN’T care about the children?” Master asked for clarification.

“I DO care, Sir. About their welfare - but I didn’t really care whether or not they liked me. Their JOB was to love me as their mother no matter how I acted. I just told myself that one day they’d be on their own and need to be able to look after themselves anyway,” I shrugged and I added that after we began this, I started to see things a little differently. I explained that I didn’t want people finding out what we’ve been doing and thinking I’m in an abusive relationship or misunderstand the point of it. It didn’t make any sense to me to do all this to improve myself, if everyone thought I was just doing it to get my sexual jollies.

Master often spanked me and did what he called, “affirmations”. He would point out shitty things I did as a mom and a person and make me own up to them and offer to be better. It was strangely cathartic and made me think about why I should care more about what people thought. Even though I hadn’t had an affirmation in some time, the lesson was still sticking with me a little.

Cheyenne and Clarita were relatives of mine and like it or not, I wanted them to understand or at least accept my choices. I hated leaving things like we did with them thinking Mike was abusing me. I asked him why he didn’t speak up when they shared their opinions.

“They needed to hear it from you. If I said anything, it would just sound like an excuse. I was there to back you up and make you be honest,” Master explained.

“I think they were confused when I kept calling them ma’am the entire time, Sir” I said with a smile.

“Yeah, I agree. They didn’t see the point. It didn’t fit with their view of your world because that was the ONLY protocol you were following. You were slouching, sitting on furniture, and at one point, wearing clothes. I think if you had demonstrated how your training has created differences in your demeanor while you were talking to them, it would have helped. If you’d enlightened them by doing things old Karen would never in a million years have done, like sitting up like a puppy, panting, rolling over and demonstrating all your one word commands, they would have been forced to reevaluate their narrow minded thinking. It’s all about context,” Master explained.

I smirked because I assumed he was joking. He continued to explain that it would be like saying you are a baseball player and having a baseball mitt but not wearing the uniform or having a ball to go along with it. “The picture was incomplete. They thought it was just fancy talk because they didn’t get a full demonstration of the benefits of training you to be my slut! Now pull those nipples out further! Really pinch them or I’ll stop and buy some clothespins!” Master promised.

“Do you think if someone saw me sitting like this in the car it would be enough context to know why I am doing it, Master?” I asked as I pinched my nipples and crushed them between my fingers. I winced a little and I felt my pussy get juicy.

“No, I think they would just think you’re an exhibitionist. They need the big Why too,” Master said.

“Big why, Sir?” I asked.

Master explained that was the overall reason for all of this. “The reason you agreed to domestic discipline and what you are getting out of being trained. WHY your training has to be this strict and constant for you,” Master said it like it should be obvious.

He went on to explain that at home I am constantly splitting myself into at least two distinct personalities. I have to put on my Mom hat and put out fires around the house by yelling at the kids and taking care of problems. I have to put on my Counselor hat at school and act professionally. I have to switch back into my submissive persona when we find the time.

“There are many wolves inside you and the one you feed the most is the one that grows the biggest!” Master said.

I wondered what T-shirt he had read that particular piece of wisdom on. He was right though! I did not feel like a submissive at home because it was more of a roleplaying game we did in the bedroom. I did feel like his submissive slave right now.

Master said that I needed to be trained because I can be lazy, selfish, vain, shallow and a bunch of other things. He said I wasn’t as bad as Cheyenne but that I could quite easily be that way if he let me. He said he needed to keep me in line for my own good. He told me that with structure and discipline I’d have less stress. He also pointed out that we hadn’t had a single argument since he started the discipline. Things were much more harmonious now that there was only one person making all the plans.

We rode in silence another few miles while I pulled my nipples and processed his words. Then I became aware of a more pressing need. “Master, may I please be permitted to shit and piss?” I asked him politely.

Mike expected me to speak in the most vulgar and profane ways. I used to cuss and say shit and piss when I was angry. I hadn’t asked to be excused to use the restroom since I was in grade school. It was incredibly humiliating to ask for permission to piss or shit.

Master also wanted me to call my mouth a cum-hole, my pussy a cunt-hole and my ass a shit-hole. He liked to talk about my tits like they were udders and he told me once he’d like to see me lactate and give breast milk again like when the kids were little. I didn’t even breast feed back then. Enfamil was free from WIC and I smoked, so I fed them formula from the bottle. My tits got swollen and huge after I had my kids. That’s why they are so enormous now.

“Yes you may,” Master pulled off on the side of the dirt road. There was nothing for miles and there weren’t any street lamps. He got out of the car and walked around to my side of the car.

“I meant at the next gas station, Master. I can hold it,” I assured him.

“I hope you could hold it because I might have told you that you can’t shit or piss,” Master assured me as he clipped the leash to my collar. He led me out of the car. At first I giggled and resisted but Mike grabbed my head and held me down in a position on all fours. I was crawling on grass for the first time in my life. It was scratchy against my knees. I couldn’t see where I was and there were tiny stones and rocks sticking up. The darkness escalated my fear of the unknown. Cars passed a few times. I was worried that someone would see us. I asked how I could I possibly explain crawling like a dog outside like this?

“You will tell them that you are a dumb slut who lost the privilege to shit and piss like a proper lady! You aren’t permitted to put on airs. You will tell them they are welcome to watch if they wish and then wait for my command to shit and piss,” Master jerked my chain and led me down the shoulder of the road towards the tree line.

“Squat with your back straight! Legs wider,” he ordered as he pointed his cell phone flashlight down on my naked body. He made me keep my legs wide and then ordered me to piss and shit. I didn’t think I could let myself do it. I’d only ever used a toilet. I had never even had to shit in the woods when I was little. My brothers did all the time. They were proud of it but I’d always managed to find a more civilized place to do my business.

He told me to remove the butt plug from my shit-hole and put it into my cum-hole. I took the plug out of my ass and put it in my mouth. I could still talk with it clenched in my teeth because it wasn’t that big.

I finally released a hot stream of piss and felt it gather around my bare feet. I let out a soft little fart and then I heard the sound of my poop pushing past my butt cheeks like a Play-Doh Fun Factory. Mike smiled as he watched me.

“You really enjoy watching this, Master?” I said as I squinted up at his light.

“This is how I’d like to see you shit all the time. I can tell just by looking at your face that the swagger you put on after feeling like a star at the club is starting to evaporate,” Master said. He claimed I had become full of myself when men showered me with cash.

I made all of 14 bucks in ones and they were wadded up and smelled like ass and pussy. I didn’t think I had put on airs.

“If I had you working at a strip club I would make you shit behind the dumpster just like that girl who took a piss when we arrived there. You’d be timed so you couldn’t waste it talking. You’d need to keep your asshole clean and empty! It would also help keep you grounded so you don’t start feeling like you are better than everybody just because you are on stage!” Master told me.

I scrunched my nose in disgust at what I was doing. I was finished and asked him how I would wipe myself without toilet paper.

“You meant how you will wipe your cunt-hole and shit hole?” Master reminded me that he expected me to be explicit. We switched from the vanilla world to our BDSM private world so often that I wasn’t used to using those terms to describe my body. It felt silly to say it out loud. I asked the question again properly and Master told me to scooch my ass across the grass.

I looked at him in disbelief and he slapped my tits with his hand. I tried not to sigh in exasperation as I lifted my pussy over the grass and scooched forward before leaning back slightly to clean my ass. I did it twice to dry myself properly. Master made me crawl back to the car after returning my butt plug to its proper place. My knees stung from that experience. He petted me on the head and said I had done well.

Once we got back to the hotel he allowed me to put clothes on and follow him up to the room. I had to walk through the lobby dressed like a slut with my knees and elbows swollen and sore. I am sure they thought I was out sucking dick because my hair was all messed up too.

That night Master fucked me like nobody’s business. The only proper word is to say that he ravished me. I felt like he was a wolf and I was a scared rabbit he was having for dinner. He fucked me so well and completely that I didn’t mind any of the nasty things that he did to me. He bent me backwards and fucked me right off the bed. He spread my ass cheeks and blew up my filthy ass and into my pussy and then spit down my back – he treated me like a filthy whore. Once he came inside me, he introduced me to two toys he bought just for this trip.

The first was a Jazz Jackrabbit vibrator that is intended to be worn on a belt around the waist. The idea is to lift the clit and pull two pink rubber bunny teeth under them so that they hold your clit hood up. Then Master pushed a rainbow speckled nine inch dildo inside me. I didn’t resist. It felt great.

“They are rechargeable,” he told me as he put me into the cage for the first time. He made me kneel so that my head was down and my ass was raised up, resting on my calves. He cuffed my hands behind my back and stuffed a sponge in my mouth then taped it over my face. Finally, he closed and latched the crate. It didn’t register what he meant by rechargeable until he tapped an app on his phone.

The Jazz Jackrabbit began to buzz and stimulate me. It was pleasant but not entirely orgasm inducing. Then the dildo began to shudder and wobble around too. I was no stranger to vibrators but there was something different about these two!

First, they were going off at random times and usually not at the same time. Just when I started to feel some pleasure and enjoy it, they would stop. The fact that there were two and they were stimulating completely different parts of my cunt made me feel like I was playing with myself while I was being fucked.

The problem was that I could not sleep like this and I could not scream or do anything but spit into the gag. Master fell asleep and started snoring.

I spent several hours of my first night in the cage questioning why I was doing this. I had allowed Master to take control of me. I felt like I could tell him that he had gone too far. I wanted to snuggle up next to him and enjoy the warmth of my husband and my bed. Instead I had nothing but his snoring and the feeling that I was stupid for allowing myself to be put in a cage.

I imagined my cousin and her daughter laughing at me as they stared down at my cage in disbelief. I knew they wouldn’t understand why a grown woman would agree to be put in a timeout. I had lots of time alone with my thoughts and I couldn’t do anything about the insufferable sex toys stimulating me to the edge and then stopping before I could cum.

My asshole was plugged too and I could not turn off my brain. There were so many things going on in my body that it was a sublime torture. I hated it and I wanted to tell Master that this game was over. I was ready to quit yet another of my many diets and exercise regimes. Sexual domination was NOT for me.

I did eventually pass out. When I awoke my Master was standing over the cage. “Wake and bake, Honey. I brought you some things from the buffet,” he said. I couldn’t believe he was still teasing me with my stripper name. I glared at him and yelled into the gag that I wanted out. My legs were sore, my pussy was sore, my asshole was sore – my entire body ached.

“Maybe I should leave you in there until you simmer down?” Master teased.

He wouldn’t, would he? I calmed myself and nodded that I was ready to be calm. Master opened the cage door and removed my gag. It was dripping wet.

“Crawl out, my delightful little cunt!” he said. He knew that word set me off. It was like saying nigger to a black person. I had grown used to being called cunt though. I smiled at him. I wanted to confront him about being in a cage but I didn’t have the nerve to launch into a litany of curses until I was free and not cuffed. Well that’s what I told myself, anyway.

Instead, I chose a question to get the ball rolling. “Are we really going to do this the entire vacation, Master?” I asked him as I shook the spit from my chin.

“This is your life now, Honey. I don’t see why you would want to go back to being Karen,” he said. “Honey was just a stripper name, Sir.” I said I didn’t even choose it and had no idea what that DJ was talking about.

“Yeah, but it fits you! I like you as Honey. I love Karen but I think I can beat and train Honey much better,” Master said with an adoring look on his face.

“What happens when we go home and I have to be Karen at work and home, Sir?” I asked him pragmatically.

“Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it and enjoy three days of you being Honey. I want to make your dream a reality,” Master said.

“This is starting to become your dream more than it is mine, Sir,” I was aching but I couldn’t move my wrists or rub my sore hips.

“You ARE my dream! Just like this! Obedient and beautiful like a pet,” Master said sweetly.

I melted. I completely lost my desire to lambaste him for putting me in a cage. I decided I might be able to even get used to it. He let me shake out my legs and arms and then told me to put my nose in the food plate in front of me. It was cold oatmeal with a little cinnamon and an uncut peeled banana. He had a bowl of water next to it for me so I could eat like a dog. I have to admit that I was curious what it would be like. He had shown me a lot of pictures of women lapping up milk or dunking their heads in spaghetti-o’s and eating off the floor. So I accommodated him.

“You’ve been a good little cunt. Do you want me to remove your toys while you eat?” Master asked me.

I nodded that I did. They were still driving me crazy. He pulled them out and let me suck them both clean before telling me I could eat my food. He plugged them into the wall and chuckled while he watched me clean my plate. I was hungry and thirsty but it was very difficult to eat without picking up the bowl. I knew I had to look ridiculous but I don’t think I’ve ever appreciated a meal as much before.

Master un-cuffed my hands and let me shower. He brought in an enema tube and made me take one of those before letting me shave. Mike chose the fire engine red, Wicked Willy swimsuit that he’d picked out for me. It was the one I’d worn under my shorts and tee when washing cars at a fundraising car wash. It was way too small for a woman my size. It would have barely fit Claire!

It was a low cut thong with a string in the back that I knew didn’t cover my butt plug and if I wasn’t shaved bare, it would have looked ridiculous as it barely covered the top of my slit. There were a couple of tiny triangle shaped pieces of material connected to a string that the designer called a bra although the item could have been called a nipple cover. It offered no lift or support either.

The only good news was that my kids and the students at my school wouldn’t see, since this time I wasn’t even wearing anything over it. I’d just be at a pool with a few hundred of my old high school friends from years ago instead.

As I looked at myself in the full length mirror, I began to lose my nerve. Even a wet tee shirt was more than I was to be allowed this time. At the pool I’d be able to close my eyes and pretend. I wouldn’t be able to do that between our room and the pool. When I squinted at my reflection in the mirror, I could just about make the bikini seem to disappear altogether!

I believed that my husband thought I was sexy enough to wear this swimsuit and that turned me on. It still seemed absurd to me that I’d be allowed out in public with it. When I put my arm over my chest and the other hand over my cunt, the swimsuit completely disappeared from my reflection. In the mirror, it looked like I was standing there completely nude.

I had eventually been confronted at the volleyball car-wash when I wore it last. I’d previously worn it twice to a community swimming pool two towns over from where we lived too, at my husband’s orders.

Each time I got stares and smiles from men and looks of ridicule and scorn from women but that was different. That was showing off for my Master in front of a bunch of strangers who were also wearing their swimsuits and no one dared to complain.

This was a nice hotel and not only were there classmates staying, there were business men and women by the dozen utilizing the facilities. The sort of people who wouldn’t stand for the sort of games my husband wanted me to play. I imagined by the time I walked through reception, I would be loudly and publicly told by the cerciage that nudity is illegal and they had already called the police to arrest me.

What would I do? Flee? Tits hammering together as I ran as fast as I could away from fifty policemen just like in an old Benny Hill show I’d once seen?

The more I thought about it the more I knew I couldn’t do this. Either my husband would have to keep me in the room or at least give me something to wear TO the pool. Once there I knew I’d be fine.

I knew I’d still be scorned but today, the scorn would be a good thing. I wanted some of the mean girls at my school that I didn’t get along with, to see how hot I was. I wanted their husband to see how hot I was too! I wanted them to see how hot their husbands thought I was! You get my drift.

Master put on a t-shirt and shorts. Men have it pretty easy in that department. They can throw on anything and be good to go at any time. I put off telling Master my stipulation to going to the pool by voicing concern that my collar would get wet. Master told me he had a brand new, shiny metal collar for me instead.

He made me kneel and he removed my leather dog collar. The new collar was a solid piece of stainless steel with a simple hoop in the center. I was honestly pleased he had gotten me a gift.

I remember when I was still dating my future husband and Master. My fiancé’s marriage proposal was like everything he did and the memory is as clear as if he’d proposed yesterday.

We were in a restaurant and we’d just finished sharing dessert. He said to me, “Wanna get married? The courthouse is open till 4pm. I checked.”

With that he pulled the ring box out of his pocket. It’s the same ring I still wear to this day. Master has stripped me and denied me fancy jewelry but he’s never ever asked me to remove my ring.

I mentioned that because this time, when Master produced the shiny steel collar, he broke with his own normal way about things. He didn’t just casually put it around my neck for me like he’d a month ago added my panties to decorate the mustang’s rear view mirror. It no longer felt like a game when he held the collar in his palms and spoke to me.

“Honey. Horny Honey Holes, you’ve begun to live the Dream with me and I didn’t know I could be so happy. You’ve fulfilled a need in me I never knew was so strong until I first bent you over and paddled your bare ass. I never knew you were capable of the level of submission you’ve shown in the last few months and I never want it to end. This collar is as important to me as that ring on your finger. Wear it and know that you’re MY cunt. My property and MY toy. Mine in every way. Wear this collar as a symbol of your submission and your loyalty. You’ve earned it, Honey. “ Master told me.”

I covered him in kisses and thanked him profusely, never thinking about the fact that it wasn’t a diamond ring or a gold necklace.

And that seemed to be my cue. I WAS doing everything he asked of me so I knew he’d accept my next request. “Master, I can’t walk through reception dressed like this.” I let out a breath that I hadn’t known I was holding. I’d just denied Master something.

“Sure you can,” my husband replied, thinking I was joking. I never planned on hogtying you or making you crawl, although...”

“Seriously, Master. I can’t. I won’t. Give me a towel or a wrap, please?” I cut him off and begged. I was about to assure him it’d only be for the walk to the pool but I never got a chance to.

My husband’s expression changed as if I’d slapped him. He didn’t even pause. “Who the fuck do you think you are, Bitch? Where do you get off telling me no? I’ve been too easy on you, is that it?” He roared at me.

Master hollering was about the scariest thing I’d experienced since we left the house. He’d been angry about three times in the last ten years and they were times when his anger was directed at someone else.

This time I’d caused it and I was supposed to be his agreeable slave. “Please Master! I’ll suck the pool boy if you want me to. I’ll even seduce him! I’ll let him fuck my ass then squeeze the juice out and lap it up off the floor for you! Please just let me wear a towel until we get to the pool! I’m not asking much, Master. Just from the room to the pool, Sir!”

I recognized my mistake when he went red. My husband has amazing control. I made him angry and it was scary. Now I’d made him furious!

“This is OUR dream, cunt! YOURS as much as mine. YOU started this and agreed to obey me in all ways. Now you’ve insulted me by begging and bargaining and outright refusal! You can’t offer me something I own! OF COURSE you’ll fuck anyone I want you to! That is the fucking dumbest verbal vomit that’s ever spewed forth from your cum hole! If you’re not at the door within 5 seconds with your nose pressed to the surface, you will be CRAWLING there with a leash on and everyone will see the new cane welts your ass will be featuring. YOUR FUCKING DECISION! 5... 4...”

I was at the door with my nose and tits pressed against it before I even consciously decided to move.

I was happy he didn’t make me crawl out of the hotel room although he obviously didn’t give me a bikini wrap or a towel either. I had to stand in the elevator next to four screaming kids while their mother glared at me like I was the devil herself.

Then I had to walk through the lobby into the pool area wearing practically nothing. I wiggled and jiggled while I walked too, trying to appease Master while shaking like a leaf inside and moving my eyes from left to right and back again, expecting to see the Benny Hill coppers converging on me.

As was now standard in Master’s rules, if the hotel management told us I couldn’t wear something that skimpy then Mike would have to let me wear the much more conservative suit I had packed instead. I felt like my senses were hyper alert for the sound of a concierge’s voice or a police whistle.

Management didn’t question me nor was I stopped by any of the suits we passed on our way to the pool, though. We walked out to the pool area and Master and I played in the pool for a while as if my meltdown had never happened.