Chapter 4

“I don’t know. I don’t really know you all that well yet. I just figured I didn’t get a choice if you were my mom or not. I didn’t even know Dad was going to ask you to marry him. You obviously did,” I stammered as I tried to think of an answer to Juliette’s question. I had seen her naked before but watching her holding her skirt up was still a distraction even in a room with pretty naked girls.

“Now you’re telling me that you set me up to be tortured and humiliated by your daughters? That’s pretty mean. But you also explained why and although I don’t understand it all that well yet, it DOES make a difference - to me anyway. I do know I need to talk to dad about it. I’m sorry I can’t just tell you what you want to hear,” I rambled my non-answer when she confronted me with the question.

Juliette stopped smiling and dropped her skirt. “I only wanted to hear your answer. One way you are different from your Father is you are wishy-washy and afraid to hurt people’s feelings by committing one way or the other. I asked what you wanted, and your response was a bunch of jibberish about what your Father would let you want,” she said. It was polite but blunt, and I felt embarrassed when she called me out for my non-answer. Juliette was absolutely correct about her observation. I am a Libra, and I see all sides to every possible equation, and that makes it difficult for me sometimes to make a decision.

I started to apologize.

“You are making it difficult to see you as the ranking male in the house, Sir” Juliette called me Sir with a tone that suggested she was testing her ability to say it with a straight face.

“I already have a mom. She isn’t the best, and from what I know about her, she is doing drugs in Barbados with her boyfriend right now. I don’t see her in the role of a parent any longer. If you want to know my answer right now about you as my mother, then the answer is no. I don’t see you as my Mom. I see you as my Father’s girlfriend, and you’ve blown my mind telling me you are his slave and that your daughters obey him too. You are their Mom, and if you are good enough for them, then you would be good enough for me. If you marry my Father, then I would want us to be a family and you to be my mother,” I tried again, and this time it flowed much more succinctly when I said it.

“That was a perfect answer, Sir. I am sorry for provoking you. I haven’t been disciplined in a while, and I may not be for a few days. I tend to get testy when I go for a little while without an attitude adjustment,” she said.

She thought about my answer for a moment and told me that I deserved better than her as a mother. “I am a parasite – I use men, I hurt them. I live off them. I can’t even work a real job. I am a whore and a damn good one, but that is the kind of work that is fitting for me,” she said.

I was confused by her comments. I asked her why she cheated on my dad and worked as a whore.

“Your dad is well aware of what I do to pay the bills. He approves and sets all the conditions for me when I work. I don’t get to make the rules even when I am driving by myself, Sir,” she explained.

“How can my father know you are obeying his rules when he is not there?” I asked.

“He doesn’t know for sure. Just like he doesn’t know if I am obeying the rules when he isn’t here. He verifies it by checking up on me. He knows some of my regular customers, and they let him know. He inspects me before I leave the house and when I come home to see if I tried to hide any of my tips from him. I would be tempted to misbehave if your Father didn’t check up on me, Sir.” She explained.

I asked her why she was a whore and not a job working as something else.

“Are you planning to give me an affirmation with all these questions, or are you doing my daughter?” Juliette grinned. Her daughters were side to side back in the punishment position, grabbing their ankles. She told me she could explain it in greater detail if I really wanted to know, but she would tell me the short version. “We really need to finish Stacy’s forty spankings and get them to bed. They have a long day of grueling chores tomorrow, and I don’t want the two of them having any excuses to drag their asses. I won’t be home the entire day to keep them on their toes,” she said.

That meant I would be alone with them again. I wondered how that would work!

“I used to hate sex and find it disgusting. It was something I did because I had to do it. It was something someone took off of me either by force or because they had something I wanted. Every stepdad, every Uncle, every male teacher, every brother or cousin, was a possible candidate to use me. I grew up thinking sex was a tool and not a vehicle for pleasure. I had to unlearn that attitude and become a three-hole whore. Sex is a daily thing for me now. Cock, cunt, or ass, I don’t care what someone has between their legs. I’ll suck it or let them stick it in me. Your Father allows me to continue being a whore because it is a good form of therapy for me. Selling my ass to strangers unlocks something primal in me. I feel like a fuck-toy and a cheap slut. It keeps me grounded and reinforces my purpose to serve and please. I would be lazy and selfish with my body if not for the requirement to make a living this way. I am a dirty whore, and I accept that it is my purpose in life. Does that make any sense, Sir?” she explained.

“Yes,” I said. I considered briefly calling her Mom. I desperately wanted to tell her I approved of her strange life choices. I could tell that she really was wicked and at times, reveled in her manipulative behavior. The look on her face when she told me that story suggested she was even proud of what a cunt she was in the past. Yet, I could also tell that a part of her wanted to be better. She just didn’t feel capable without direction in her life. I could also tell she desperately wanted better for her daughters, and she was willing to make them experience a little pain and humiliation to keep them from growing up just like her.

It seemed strange to me but the girls weren’t kidnapped or being held against their will. They may have been reluctant to obey but both of them had signed on to this discipline program as well. They could have easily told me that what she said wasn’t true and resisted her. The girls also seemed to believe it was necessary to keep them in line.

Becky and Stacy seemed impatient. They reminded me of horses that were tethered to a wooden hitch that wanted to be ridden somewhere.

“Do you two sluts have someplace you’d rather be?” Juliette asked them rhetorically. She rubbed Becky’s bright red ass. A few spots turned yellowish-brown, and she said they would make a nice bruise tomorrow so that she’d remember tonight’s lesson very well. “You may stand up,” she instructed Becky. Juliette said that she had come close to giving her fifty swats and that it was close enough. She told me that my Father was a very precise man. If he said fifty, then it would be exactly fifty and not forty-nine and not fifty-one. “I am not him, though” she chuckled that she was a lot more sloppy and played things more loosely.

Becky stood up and shook her legs and arms to get the circulation flowing again. She rubbed her sore ass as well.

“Hands off,” Juliette smacked her daughter’s butt. “You two want a nice lotion and a massage, then you can do that on your own time,” she laughed without a hint of sympathy. She tossed a pair of flower-print panties at her daughter that she got out of her dresser.

I was surprised that Juliette even owned a pair of panties.

“Stuff these in your cunt,” Juliette instructed her daughter. I watched as Becky pushed the cloth into her wet pussy until a tiny strand was visible.

“Go ahead and get started,” Juliette pointed to my wooden paddle and her other daughter’s ass when she saw me staring at Becky.

I didn’t know what to do or how to stand. Juliette had stood almost like a baseball player waiting for a pitch at home plate. I was finding it difficult to remember exactly how she did it and bring myself to swing the heavy wooden bat against Stacy’s delicate ass.

In the meantime, Juliette locked the chastity belt that Becky brought into the room around her daughter’s waist. The inside was silicone with metal on the outside. They called it “Party A183,” but I don’t know why. The front had a simple metal grate to allow her to piss through it. I imagined a girl would spray everywhere through something like that.

The back of the belt consisted of a single silicone strap that fits between Becky’s asscheeks. There was a small ring at the base that exposed her asshole. She might be able to poop through it, but she’d have to poop very narrowly. Juliette locked it with a padlock and jokingly pretended to lose the key.

I still hadn’t spanked Stacy’s ass once.

“Are you afraid to do it?” Stacy whispered to me.

“No,” I whispered back while I watched Juliette adjust and lock her daughter into the chastity belt.

“You should be,” Stacy giggled her warning and then looked forward.

When her mother realized I had cold feet, she asked me if I wanted to spank Stacy after all. I assured her I did but that I was just a little overwhelmed. I wanted to touch Stacy in any capacity. I was still a little angry about the girls playing jokes on me, but I have to admit I was desperately horny to touch this pretty girl’s butt too.

Juliette got behind me and wrapped her arms tightly around me. I could feel her nipples pressing into my back. She held me tightly and then gently guided my arms through the swing as she was teaching me to swing a tennis racket. “Don’t be afraid to hit hard. You can ask questions or not but make her count each one, and thank you,” she said.

I didn’t want to HURT Stacy. She was slight compared to Becky and Juliette. I was effectively wielding a wooden bat, and I didn’t want to knock her into next week. My first swat was something of an exploratory swing to test my strength.

-BLAP-

There was silence.

Uncomfortable, awkward silence.

“Count, please,” I reminded Stacy. Juliette was observing now that Becky was locked into the belt. Becky herself was testing whether she could shimmy out of the thing and trying to adjust it so that it didn’t pinch her lady bits.

“Oh, did you start, Sir? I didn’t realize it had begun. Did you do just the one? One, thank you Sir! May I have another please?” Stacy asked me very politely with a honey-sweet tone of voice that expertly hid any trace of sarcasm.

I took the bait Stacy was floating my way hook, line, and sinker. I was hurt, and my self-esteem was dashed.

“Don’t let her get away with that. I’ve got another chastity belt upstairs that is particularly uncomfortable. We’ll add ten swats for that little comment. I hope it was worth it, Stacy” Juliette assured her daughter that her rudeness would not be tolerated.

“Ten more swings like that? But it will ruin my perfect ass!” Stacy held her face like Kevin from the movie Home Alone as in mock-concern for what I’d do to her.

“Oh, shush, Cauliflower ass!” Becky chided her sister. Juliette told Becky to turn around, and she handcuffed her daughter while watching me spank Stacy.

Stacy returned to the punishment position. This time I was determined to make it sting. I swung the paddle upwards towards her pussy with the flat end facing her crotch.

“Way to put some stank on it!” Becky congratulated me when it made a loud sound.

“Two, thank you, Sir!” Stacy hissed as she let the air out of her mouth. “Try to aim less for my belly button and more for my ass, Sir,” she begged me politely.

This time I spanked sideways so that I would connect with Stacy’s admittedly very shapely little ass. She had a tight athlete’s ass, and when she clenched her cheeks, it was like looking at two perfect half-circles of bronzed, hairless flesh without a single blemish besides the red marks from the caning she received.

“Three, thank you, Sir!” Stacy seemed to like that last spanking and even backed into the next one.

Juliette reminded me that this was just a physical exercise in enduring pain. There was a mental component to it as well. She told me that repetition is great in discipline but that after a while, the pain starts to fade, and a girl tunes it all out. It all blends together, and it no longer feels like anything once the brain is turned off. I needed to make her engage with me.

I had listened to Juliette’s questions and examples, but I couldn’t think of any questions. I wished I had a teleprompter mounted just above her ass where a tramp stamp tattoo would be so that I could read off the proper questions. I was happy that I was spanking her butt and making it jiggle and getting something approaching a genuine reaction from her over the spanking.

“Just do the best you can do. This is a demonstration and a learning experience for you and nothing more. You were going to eventually find out we have these evaluations. They are usually performed in the living room. You can’t make any mistakes,” she assured me.

It didn’t inspire me with confidence that she set the bar very low for me. I was, however, a complete novice, and she was right for telling me that.

Juliette wasn’t patronizing, and I appreciated her advice. She knew worlds more than me about what to do with a paddle. I was focused on the little red knob between Stacy’s butt cheeks. Then it occurred to me to ask my first question about the time I reached the tenth swat.

“What is that butt plug supposed to be teaching you?” I asked her.

“Ten Sir, thank you!” Stacy counted like it was routine. It almost didn’t register to her that I said anything because I had been silent up until that point. “My butt plug is a constant reminder that I am a pain in the ass for others, and it is supposed to help train my asshole, Sir,” she answered politely, almost as if she had the answer written on a teleprompter in front of her.

“Train your ass to do what?” I asked as I delivered another hard swat on her buttocks.

“Fart like a choo-choo train,” Becky made a whistling sound. Her hands were bound behind her back. Her mother slapped her tits to quiet her sarcasm.

“Eleven Sir, thank you,” Stacy counted and seemed slightly more engaged now. “Train my ass to hold bigger objects, Sir,” she answered.

“Why is it important to train your ass to do that?” I asked. I genuinely wanted to know what the point of the uncomfortable little toy was. I had no idea that Stacy would react as if she had never thought about it any deeper than what she had just told me.

“I guess so that it can be amusing to stick things up my ass, Sir. I can grip your finger and squeeze it with my Shit-Hole, Sir,” Stacy counted again. It seemed so surreal that a girl would call her asshole a shit-hole.

“You don’t always call your asshole a shit-hole,” I observed as I hit her again.

“No, sir, I am a bad slut. I don’t always do a lot of things. I usually only do what I am made to do. Even then, I do the bare minimum, and I half-ass even that if I can,” Stacy admitted like she was comfortable being that way while she counted.

“You can do better than that,” I insisted. I knew Stacy was a bright girl, and she probably was capable of so much more than even she realized.

“Make me, Sir,” Stacy’s answer was a direct challenge to motivate her to be better than she was, and it resonated with me at a level that I didn’t understand at that time. I was a strange little boy who had happened upon three girls during a spanking session and been lucky enough not to be chased away when this began. At that moment, I started to feel as if I could be capable of much more than that. My Father had to start someplace. He wasn’t born a Master with all of the answers to life’s questions. He wasn’t born with an intimate knowledge of what all of the parts of a girl were. He didn’t start out with a plan for the likely and a philosophy for the unlikely to guide him. My Father developed all of that knowledge over time with experience. He probably made a lot of mistakes and had a lot of bad ideas that he had to make better in order to make him the man he was.

I was having an epiphany while I spanked her about the man I wanted to become and how I would become that man.

A light bulb went off over my head at that moment. The affirmation had seemed like a game of questions that we were supposed to play so that the girl could prove she was paying attention to what was happening to her. The questions were supposed to be answered honestly. The pattern seemed to be that the girls always had to admit what horrible people they truly were and ask for someone to change them. Stacy was asking me to “Make her” be a better person. I was supposed to be inspiring her to have an epiphany of self-realization about her actions and behaviors and what she needed to do in the future!

It all started to make sense to me.

I swung the paddle without thinking about what I was doing. I had been careful to follow all the instructions that Juliette gave me about how to connect with her ass and follow through. I had tried to keep up a sort of rhythm so that the time between each swing was about the same. I was striking downward as Stacy’s ass cheeks were jiggling back together after the last swat they received. I targeted different spots on her ass so that I spread the pain around evenly. It took a lot of concentration to beat her ass the way Juliette had told me and remember all of her notes.