Chapter 3

Approximately 11:55 A.M.

I was having my ass reamed by Randy Fillmore. He is a member of the football team and one of Master Joe’s friends. He is big and not very gentle. He is also a regular visitor to my office these days. He had me bent over the desk, gripping it while he fucked my ass hard from behind. My steel butt plug was stuffed in my mouth as he furiously pushed me back and forth across my desk. My sore nipples felt like rubber erasers constantly being forced across a sheet of paper in a futile attempt to erase some past mistakes.

I wasn’t paying attention to the time. I enjoyed myself while I was riding this young stud’s dick. I lost myself in the naughtiness of fucking someone while I should be working. He would periodically grab my hair or slap my ass as he drove his hard dick into my gaping asshole.

The door to my office opened without warning. I was instantly scared that someone unexpected was going to walk in. I am always aware I shouldn’t be fucking students at school and half-expecting to get caught and lose my job. It is a constant fear in the pit of my stomach even though I do it anyway. I think the risk has been turning me on more than I realized.

I quickly realized when I looked up that it was Master Joe.

He has seen me fucking myself with dildos at home and giving blowjobs, but he has rarely seen me having sex with another person. His father has been discreet about full-blown sex around him and the kids.

Master Joe shrugged, seeing me fuck one of his teammates. “Get a real girlfriend, Fillmore!” he teased him.

“Why would I do that when fucking your hot mom is so much easier?” Mister Fillmore asked rhetorically as he balled his hand into a fist and they bumped them over my head. “Girlfriends are too much work. You have to talk to them, listen to their shit, and spend time with them. I can get my nut and get back to class after relieving a little stress,” he joked. He leaned into my butt-cheeks and began to pump semen into my ass while he looked right at my son.

“Gross, are you cumming right now?” Master Joe asked his friend. He was disgusted, but he seemed amused by it at the same time. It was an emotion he often expressed when dealing with me.

“Yeah, time is up, and I have to get back to class! You here to fuck her next?” Mister Fillmore slapped my ass hard and pulled out. I instinctively spun around and spread my dripping thighs towards my son. I started sucking Mister Fillmore’s cock clean. He had my ass juice and some leftover cum covering his cock.

“No, I am not here to fuck her. I just have to check on her during the day,” Master Joe said with a disturbed look on his face that Fillmore would even ask such a question. I am sure it seemed over the top that my son was checking on me at all but Mr. Fillmore knew I was in submissive training.

“Don’t get so defensive, McGifford!” Mister Fillmore laughed while I cleaned his cock for him. “Half the team probably thinks you fuck her too! Incest is best when it’s kept in the family!” he shrugged.

I couldn’t see Master Joe’s face, but I could sense he felt uncomfortable with the reputation he was probably getting from his association with me. We probably WERE crossing the line about incest just in how he inspected me and frequently paddled me.

“How about I come to your house and fuck your mom sometime, Fillmore?” Master Joe made a good-natured joke to deflect from Mr. Fillmore’s insinuation.

“I wish you would! That old bitch could use the dust washed off her pipes,” Mister Fillmore made me suck his dirty fingers clean before putting his uncut cock away and pulling up his pants. “How about we make a trade? You bang my mom, and I bang that hot little cunt of a sister you have?” he joked. It was a sarcastic offer that seemed like perfectly natural banter between teammates.

“Yeah, my sister would claw your eyes out, Fillmore! Watch yourself,” Master Joe chuckled.

“I wish she was as friendly as your mom,” Mister Fillmore gave my sweaty ass a friendly slap and then zipped his pants before walking out. I thanked him as he left. Master Joe locked the door behind him.

“God, that was awkward,” he sighed after his friend left. Master Joe had been smirking and acting like what I was doing was no big deal, but I noticed that he looked embarrassed once Mr. Fillmore left.

“I am so sorry for putting you through this, Master Joe. I never intended for your reputation to be affected at school. I can’t imagine how it feels to be teased by your friends. Should I talk to Master at home and ask that he find someone else to supervise me at school?” I asked. I still had my butt plug clenched in my teeth but I’ve learn to speak very well while holding it in my mouth. I squatted in front of him.

It can be a little confusing to call my husband “Master” and to refer to Master Joe as Master. We’ve reached an informal understanding when I refer to “Master” without saying “Master Mike” that I am usually referring to my husband. I almost always refer to Master Joe by his complete title and name.

“Nah, it’s cool. Guys are going to talk. Trust me, they wanted to fuck you before you ever became the school slut,” Master Joe smirked. It was strangely flattering to know that I was the object of their lust before I began openly fucking anyone who made an appointment with me.

I had to wonder how long my daughter had also been an object of lust. I was sure in the locker room all the athletes probably talked about each other’s sisters, moms and girlfriends.

“Get your doggy dish so I can feed you. Do you need to squat over it and drip the cum out of your ass?” Master Joe asked the question like it was very mundane. We had been doing this for weeks and it had become routine to him. He removed the butt plug from my mouth and dropped it on my back.

“Yes Master Joe,” I nodded and crawled over to the corner to retrieve my dog dish. I have one for school and one for home use.

It was difficult to balance the butt plug on my back. I have to admit that even though it has become routine

I picked up the bowl with my teeth gingerly and then placed it in the center of the room. I waited with my mouth open as wide as I could hold it until my son re-inserted my butt plug. He didn’t have to tell me to do that; it was just something we had begun doing informally. Master Joe is less vocal in his commands and he seems to like it when I anticipate what he wants me to do. Routine is a big part of discipline.

Master Joe chuckled and laughed at how much I seemed to be getting off on this degrading treatment. I smiled at him and looked over my shoulder before retrieving my dish.

Once I gripped the stainless steel plug in my teeth I squatted over the plug with my legs apart as wide as I could so that my cunt lips do not touch. Master Joe has never told me to hold my mouth or cunt as wide open as I can when he feeds me but my husband established that is how I am supposed to do it and I assume that he would tell me if he wanted me to perform my tasks some other way. I interlaced my fingers behind my head and held my arms up behind me.

“Jesus, look at your face! Did Fillmore give you this bruise?” Master Joe rubbed my cheek. He looked horrified at my bruise but he had a trace of admiration in his voice. I wasn’t sure if that was for whoever did it or for me because I endured it.

“No Master Joe, It was a younger boy. Jeremy Ellis from my 9:00 A.M. session,” I admitted. I began to squeeze my asshole and pucker it so that I could pump cum out and let it dribble into my bowl. I didn’t want to tell him how much I got off on the treatment that morning. The other guys fucked me but Jeremy had given me a proper thrashing.

Mike gets jealous or concerned when I come home all bruised up but by now it has become a natural side effect of living this lifestyle the way I have been.

“You are coming unraveled, mom” he quipped about how I was going off the deep end.

I told him that I was the proper amount of raveled with a smirk on my face. We could joke informally that way. My son told me this was a passing fad or a sexual fetish that I was just indulging in.

“I am really trying to adapt and embrace my new life, Sir. I know it doesn’t seem that way all of the time. It isn’t easy, and it is taking a lot of adjustments. You are right to be skeptical,” I said. He looked at me with disappointment on his face but nodded understanding. He seemed to be thinking about my words as if he had something to tell me, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to express his concerns.

My son produced a Ziploc bag containing two-day-old cold spaghetti with sauce, fried egg, yogurt, and some hash browns. He squirted the contents between my legs into my dog dish and held his nose at the stench.

“That little fucker went too far! Do you want me to tell him to take it easy on you?” he asked me as he examined the bruise on my face after he poured the sloppy food in my dish. I felt ashamed that I suggested that next time I introduce Mister Jeremy to whips and paddles if he really wanted to beat me.

“No Master Joe, I told him he could hit me anywhere he wanted. He was testing my resolve to keep my promises. I am supposed to be beaten regularly, Sir. It keeps me in line and reminds me of my place. I do appreciate the concern,” I said with a tight lip as I sucked my butt plug like it was a thick cock with my tongue absentmindedly.

“You know you are getting freakier and freakier by the day,” Master Joe looked impressed. “I honestly thought that you would do this for a week tops, and yet you are still at it,” he said.

“Thank you, Master Joe, I couldn’t have done it without your support and assistance,” I admitted. That was very true. If anyone in the family had been offended then I am not sure I could have justified continuing to live this lifestyle in the open around the house. My family is often shocked by what they watch me do, but so far, they haven’t demanded that I stop. Miss Claire has been the only one who seems to actively be rooting for me to give up my dream. She hasn’t done so because she is a prude, but mostly because she wants to be able to tell me she told me I would quit.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that today,” Master Joe seemed concerned as he looked down at me. He asked me if I had finished dripping all of the cum out of my ass before I finished.

“I think so, Master Joe, do you mind if I finger my asshole and cunt and check?” I asked him politely. He nodded, and I used my finger to scrape out the sweaty cum from my holes and then wiped it into my bowl.

Master Joe removed my butt plug from my mouth. He instructed me to get into my piggy eating position. I got down on my knees and stuck my ass up in the air and then leaned into my food with just my face. I lifted my arms behind me, and he put the plug in my left hand. I knew I was expected to reinsert it into my asshole, and I did.

I waited for him to give me the order to eat. I am supposed to have five minutes to finish everything in my bowl, but Master Joe is usually very informal and doesn’t time it at all. I still do my best to finish everything as quickly as I can.

“You seem to be thriving on your little fantasy life. I’ve been kind of half-assing my Master responsibilities this entire time. I don’t know anything about BDSM, and it isn’t really my bag,” he said.

I felt a shiver run down my spine. It was a selfish feeling of remorse because I assumed my son was going to tell me he no longer wanted to be my Master. I had just suggested to him that I would ask his father to have someone else check on me at school, but I didn’t think about him stopping altogether. I had grown used to the idea of Master Joe taking charge when my husband is not home. He is the responsible one in the family and seems to be able to keep order.

“Claire was telling me that I am too easy on you. She said I don’t make you do everything you are supposed to do when you are in training. I have to admit I am not a stickler for details and I feel a little guilty when I spank you. It just seems weird to me like I probably shouldn’t be doing it,” he said.

I nodded my understanding as I gobbled my food like a piggy. I wanted to say something in response, but I fought the instinct because it was not my place to interrupt my betters when they are talking. I was unsure where he was going with what he said, but I felt he was probably right. It was probably selfish of us to involve him directly in my training.

“I haven’t talked to Dad about this, but I wanted to know how you would feel if I got more strict with you?” he said.

I stopped eating altogether and nearly choked on my food. That was NOT what I expected him to say.

“That’s what I thought, forget I said anything,” he said. Master Joe had misinterpreted my response.

“I am sorry Master Joe, I just didn’t expect you to ask me my thoughts on that,” I said with food dripping from my mouth. I sucked up some spaghetti and let the sauce drip down my chin and nose as I looked up at him.

“Yeah, well, it is your dream. I feel kind of like a fraud. I am not a Master. You call me Master Joe, but you don’t say it the same way you do to Dad. I feel like Little Joe from Bonanza,” he chuckled. I didn’t even know he watched that old TV show. I didn’t understand what he meant initially.

“You call dad your Master. You call me Master Joe. You never refer to me simply as Master. It is like you know I am not really a Master. I just bring you your lunch and inspect you. I don’t really have any authority other than what Dad tells me I should do,” he admitted. It was the first time he’d ever said anything like this to me.

“I am so sorry, Master, that is my fault!” It was the first time I called my son Master without adding his name to the title. It felt strange to hear myself say it and yet it felt deserved. “I don’t really have a say in how you train or discipline me. I don’t want you to do anything you are uncomfortable doing. All you have to do is tell me to call you Master when you are the only Master in the room. I thought I was being formal by addressing you by your first name as well, Sir!”

“Yeah, I get that, and I thought you’d say something about how you don’t care what I do,” he said.

That wasn’t exactly how I phrased it, but I was trying to tell him that I wouldn’t judge him if he was strict, and I wasn’t going to force him to do anything he didn’t want to do.

“I want to know how you would feel if I start really beating your ass at school during lunch and give you an affirmation,” he said.

I swallowed some of what was in my mouth and blinked. “It would help keep me in line, Master,” I said.

“I want you to snap to positions when I give you an order. I don’t want you taking your time,” he insisted. I realized I’d been less formal with my son, but he tended not to give me instructions.

“I want you to give me a detailed report on everyone you fuck at school from now on. Set up your cell phone so that you can record it without them knowing so that I can review it later and make sure you are telling me the truth,” he said.

I didn’t want to contradict my son’s order but I felt the most trepidation about this new order. My first instinct was to ask his father for clarification even though my husband had told me that I should obey my son unless it puts anyone’s life at risk. He also told me I had the right to tell him at family meetings in a respectful way about orders that made me uncomfortable or seemed to be pushing me in the wrong direction. It was one thing to violate my own privacy but to violate someone else seemed wrong to me.

I said nothing. I was too afraid to confront my son and he seemed very passionate about what he was saying. It was as if he had been thinking about this for a while and wanted to unburden himself. I did not want him to bottle up his feelings the way Mr. Jeremy did. It was difficult not to argue or interrupt him but I did not protest his new orders.

If my son asked about what I did in the office I have told him details when he asked but never offered the explicit story of what I did with students and faculty in my office. He seldom asked and I seldom told. Every time I told him how I got my brains fucked out in my office I felt humiliated but also guilty that a mother shouldn’t tell her children how much of a pig she is.

It was something I had to accept – I am a pig now. Master Joe knew that now and there was no going back to who I was before. There would be no secrets – if he asked then I would tell him. If he wanted to watch me then I would let him watch and hope it amused him.

“You will also have to get out of this office during the day and walk around,” Master Joe seemed to be testing my willingness to obey him by laying out his demands. “I am going to make you jog on the track, flash your tits, walk around pretending you don’t notice your skirt flying up. Are you ready for that, Mom?” he asked.

Master Joe rarely called me Mom anymore. He usually called me Honey. I could tell he was almost as nervous as I was when he laid out his demands.

“Yes, Master, thank you! It won’t embarrass you if I do that?” I asked as my heart started racing. The adrenalin was already starting to course through my veins as I imagined obeying his humiliating dares and instructions.

“Why would I be embarrassed? You are the one who has to do it. I just have to think it up,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” I acknowledged what he said.

“Why have you stopped eating? Keep gobbling cunt. I want to beat your ass properly!” Master Joe seemed a little more confident now that I had agreed to his last demand. I began to eat my food again quickly.

“You will also obey Claire and Kyle at school. They never see you here. You stay in this office fucking and sucking all day. You shouldn’t be having all this fun. I want you to find them at least once every day and ASK them if there is anything you can do for them. That will reinforce they are your betters,” Master Joe said.

I acknowledged his order while eating my food. I was inhaling the disgusting mixture of food.

“How much cum is in that sticky condom you keep in your purse?” he asked. I told him that it was nearly full.

“Great, hand it to me,” he said. Master Joe has poured my mason jar into my dish at times, but he rarely talks about cum. He usually lets me drip whatever is fresh in my cunt into my food at school, and he knows I collect the rest and bring it home.

He poured the cum gingerly into my hair and then into my bowl. “From now on, you’ll eat the entire contents of the condom during lunch and wear it on your face on the way home. Is that understood, slut?” he said.

Master Joe usually called me Honey. He seldom called me slut or cunt, and it was usually done as if he were joking. He was very serious now. It felt humiliating but well-timed, and I obediently nodded and agreed. I asked him excitedly if he wanted me to do anything else. My cunt was juiced up, and I couldn’t believe how electrified I was by his new demands.

I got the distinct impression he wanted me to suck his cock. He tapped his bulging erection and seemed to think about asking. I’ve seen my sons get hard many times, even before I started training. I know it is something they can’t always control. I don’t know how I would have felt about it if he came out and asked. That is a lie. I know I would have felt ashamed, humiliated and yet elated that he asked me to give him sexual relief. I may have thought it crossed a line between mother and son but I was now so far into my new role that I would have gladly sucked ANY cock in my face

“You are not going to hold any of this against me IF you decide to stop submitting like this?” he asked me. I looked up and stopped eating. I told him definitively that I was not going to stop submitting.

“That isn’t what I asked. I want to know IF you do quit that you won’t make things weird or hold it against me? I need your word, Mom!” Master Joe said.