Chapter 52

The drive down to Walt Disney World was a long and arduous one. Mike stopped off at every truck stop and big gas station so that we could turn tricks during the day. He stopped around sunset every night, found a motel and made us crawl naked to our room whenever he could.

I think he kept hoping we’d run into some people like Victor and Ernesto again. We didn’t. There were other whores, pimps and drug addicts out on the streets but no one seemed worth talking to or getting to know, and very few every wanted much to do with us.

He also made us do another webcam call to my mom to let her know how we were progressing. I told her how hard it was and said not to worry because I was learning a lot and behaving myself. She said she didn’t believe me and thought I was just doing this for shits and giggles/to piss her off and deny her of her granddaughter.

All in all, it was a much more humiliating conversation than the last time because Mom’s boyfriend was there and he kept talking about coming to Florida and visiting us. He was actually implying he wanted to fuck us/see us naked and trained. Mom kept ignoring him and what he said and basically trying to scold us and talk “sense” into us to stop what we were doing and return home.

“There is no home back there. We were living with Jerry, and he’s long gone.”

“Jerry still misses Kim. He told me so,” Mom assured us.

“I don’t miss him, Ma’am,” Chastity finally said a few words to our mom. She stopped talking most of the time unless she was out turning tricks. Then she livened up and became flirtatious and bubbly.

I thought our diet wouldn’t get any worse as lazy bitches. I was wrong about that.

Mike left moist dog food out and let it get hard and cake up before he fed it to us. That was actually the most delicious even though it made me wretch. He fed us dry bird seed on peanut butter that we had to suck off of each other’s body.

Dumpster juice and rotten veggies would have been a welcome treat to what we ate most of the time. “Waste not, want not,” he often joked. He’d make us dig in the trash in front of a McDonalds and lick the discarded wrappers to get what little cheese and gristle was discarded by customers.

Jessie and Mike were cruel but they frequently pointed out that this was for our own good. “If you have a full understanding of what it’s like to be a lazy bitch, we only have to go through this one time. You’ll never want it again and you’ll do everything you can to please me and avoid it.”

He beat us regularly and made us confess to all the things we had done in the past. He started making me recount all the shitty things I had done to people over the years a lot more. I think he liked the idea of affirmations being more of a confession of sins like it was at the motel.

Master also frequently found places in the woods he could take us. He tied us to trees, suspended us with rope, beat us and even left us bound for hours. He liked to leave us out in the Florida heat and let us work up a big sweat, and then watch us lick each other dry.

We had always licked each other’s pussies and assholes after we pissed and shit. Master made us lap up piss and sometimes lick turds. He didn’t make us eat them but he liked the look on our face while we sucked on a frozen poop that came straight out of one of our asses that he put into the freezer. He called them “Turd-cycles” or “Poop-pops”. I am not kidding – it was gross but incredibly funny.

He let us lick it until it thawed out, put it back in the freezer and then let another one of us lick it for a while!

Master focused on three primary types of training while we were lazy bitches. Pain was pervasive and part of our daily moment to moment lives. He didn’t bother with spankings and regular beatings with canes and whips. He used ice on our pussies and assholes, heat from blow dryers and the sun, dunked our heads in dirty water, and rubbed salt into our cuts and bruises.

What we endured was continuous painful, sweaty, agony.

As an example, He tied cords around our tits and cut off our blood supply for a while just to see them get swollen. He forced water down our throats and choked us with it until our bellies became swollen and distended. Then he made us gag ourselves on dildos while we were on all fours until we threw up the water. Then he made us lick it up.

Mike also strangled us on a regular basis. He was very careful not to crush our windpipes or give us brain damage by knocking us out for long. He wouldn’t let Jessie do it. Mike was rough and his hands were extremely strong. He’d usually tie a rope or handkerchief around our neck and duct tape our nose and mouth shut. Then he would choke us out. I felt it was strangely erotic because of the danger. I orgasmed uncontrollably more than a few times.

Mike stretched our pussies out with big objects. Even Buttercup was stretched. He put a blow dryer into our pussy and turned it on low and left us tied up with the warm air blowing on our cervix.

The most painful experience, was Mike tied us up out in the woods on time and made us sit in a pile of red ants for a while too. He washed us off and put rubbing alcohol on us afterwards.

The second focus was humiliation. As you may have guessed, we were pretty used to being exposed in public and teased. Lazy bitch humiliation was never subtle.

Mike’s idea of typical humiliation might be to write something dirty on our assholes that our tricks would see when we pull our skirts off for them. We’d have to explain it and they’d usually have a good laugh.

As a Lazy Bitch, Mike would take us to a rest stop in very skimpy tops and skirts that were definitely going to flip up and expose us a little bit. He’d rig them so they were going to fall off easily if we didn’t keep pulling them up.

Then he’d make a big deal about how we were lazy, and we needed some exercise after a long ride in the car. He’d do that to ensure the maximum amount of people at the rest stop saw us. Then he’d make Jessie direct us to do jumping jacks until our clothes fell off.

Anyone who was watching would see that we had dildos taped between our boobs, stuffed in our pussies and sticking out of our asses. We were covered in drawings of smiley faces, dicks, and phrases.

Jessie drew a big truck carrying turds and wrote “Shit Hauler” on his mother’s ass cheeks. He wrote “Black cock only” on Buttercup and then crossed it out and wrote “Black or Mexican” and crossed that out, then he wrote “Black, Mexican or Chinese” and then finally he crossed that and wrote “Any cock, please and thank you!”

He took our collars off too so that we didn’t look so we looked more like regular slutty tramps.

Then he would pretend to be shocked once we were naked and chastise us. “Aunt Amanda, you told me that you weren’t playing with your dildos any longer and you put them up.”

We used our former names for this little game. Master felt that it would be too obvious if we called them Master and Sir. It was a little surreal (and taboo) addressing them by just their first names again. It didn’t feel right.

“I put them up my ass, Jessie! Sorry! Can I get dressed please?”

“No, serves you right. Keep jumping, you dumb cunt!”

We’d beg and beg, and he’d keep the ruse going as long as we could until a highway patrol, park attendant or some bitchy mom who had enough of our shenanigans caused a scene. Mike would usually come walking out of the bathroom and pretend he was at a loss for words.

“Girls, why are you naked?”

“Jessie won’t let us stop exercising because he said you told him we had to do whatever he said for thirty minutes.”

“Jessie, is this true? You won’t let your Aunt put her clothes back on?”

“Yes Dad,” Jessie goofed on Mike.

“Well, good boy! It serves them right. They’ve been so horny all weekend and now I see why. They’ve been playing with themselves!”

They also tied me and my sister up in the men’s bathroom to the urinals one night and wrote “Free Fuck/any hole” on our asses. We didn’t get as many takers as you might think but we certainly got a lot of raised eyebrows. Only guy actually asked us if we were there against our will and of course we told him that we were there voluntarily.

On more than one occasion, they made me stick a banana up my ass, and go out with my skirt hiked up so that it was sticking out. I was only allowed to pull it back down if someone said something to me about it.

Can you imagine a grown-ass woman like me walking through a gas station with a banana sticking out of her ass, and her skirt up like she doesn’t notice?

You would think someone would say something, but most people were too shocked or busy laughing to say a damned thing. I’ll give you an example of one woman’s interaction with me in the store. She was with her teenage son. She had short blonde hair, kind of heavy set, very conservatively dressed.

“Oh my god Mom, do you see that lady?”

“Yes, of course I do, don’t look.”

“How can I not?” her son asked. “Why is she doing that?”

“She is just an attention whore,” and then she cleared her throat. I thought she’d end my humiliating suffering by telling me there was a banana up my ass. That is all she had to do and I was done.

“Yes, Ma’am?” I asked.

“Oh god,” She rolled her eyes as she scoffed.

“Is there something wrong, Ma’am?” I asked hoping she’d tell me there was a banana in my tail pipe so I could pretend I had forgotten it was there and thank her for reminding me.

“You are sick,” she snarled. Then she took her son by the hand and led him out while he laughed at me.

“Wait, sick? Why is that Ma’am?” I begged.

Mike and Jessie thought it was hysterical. I was allowed to finally leave after fifteen minutes. Chastity and Buttercup had to do it as well but with different fruits in different stores.

The third fundamental pillar of being a lazy bitch wasn’t sex. Sex happened all of the time, but we didn’t turn tricks. Everything we did with other people was free and we usually had to beg them for it. We were punished if men turned us down. He gave us to a bunch of homeless guys out in the woods one afternoon. There was at least eight of them.

Even my daughter served them, and I think a few slipped their peckers into her pussy. She was on birth control and by this point, with all the dildos and stretching I didn’t think it was really that shocking to her. She didn’t act like it was after it was all over anyway.

It was hard work and let me tell you that this was not your typical tedious scrubbing with a toothbrush. We were used to cleaning the motorhome spotless on a regular basis. Mike normally inspected it ruthlessly and punished for even the slightest mistakes.

As Lazy bitches, We wore bikinis so small that you could barely see them when we washed his motorhome. He’d attach sponges to our boobs, and butts and then make us rub our bodies on soap and dunk our butts into buckets of water to get them wet.

We had to wash every inch of that motorhome every day for almost a week. We had to get up on ladders and even wash the roof. When men came by to watch us and invariably ask if we were naked we were expected to respond the same way.

“No Sir, I am not naked, I’ve got a bikini on, see?” then I had to spread my ass cheeks so that he could see the string so thin that you could barely see it between my butt cheeks. A big fat butt plug and dildo was packed into my ass and pussy, and I had to pretend I didn’t realize he could see that. If he mentioned I would say “Oopsie! I forgot about that! Don’t tell my Dad. He’s in the camper and he hates it when I am playing with myself.”

Then I would go back to washing, wiggling my ass and jiggling my tits and using them to actually wash the motorhome.

Jessie graded us on how friendly we were and how giggly and playful we could be. He made it sort of a competition to see how long we could get someone to stare at us while we cleaned the RV.

We did little splash fights but only when Jessie instructed us to do it, in order to entice a curious but shy bystander to come see what we were doing.

If they got really forward with us and asked us for sex then we could say something like “Are you serious? I’d love to! But you have to ask my nephew. I promised I’d finish washing the RV and I’ve been really lazy lately.”

No one ever got the courage to ask my nephew but a lot of them smiled and thought it was pretty funny.

It wasn’t just cleaning the motorhome either. He made daily hygiene more of a chore than it already was. We were made to grow our pubes out for a few days just so that we could pluck them out of each other’s crotches with tweezers one by one.

Try it sometime. It will make you tear up and cry. It gave me goosebumps and made me shiver.

Enemas were held for twenty to thirty minutes, and Master put duct tape over our butt plugs so that no water escaped. We frequently had to do more than one enema until the water ran clean. That was even when we weren’t in lazy bitch mode. He made us shoot the dirty water onto each other’s backs, shoulders and chest when we finished.

He shoved toothbrushes up our assholes and made us brush each other’s teeth in the morning. He made us lick each other clean with a full tongue bath. We started with our toes and finished with the top of our heads. It was slow and methodical and a lot of it wasn’t erotic – but a lot of it definitely was. We ate each other’s pussies, licked each other’s nipples, and even ate each other’s assholes until we came.

We didn’t shower normally and any cum that we saved from our encounters was always poured into our face and sometimes up our nose and eyes. They weren’t trying to blind us they just wanted us to be uncomfortable and feel icky.

My daughter said it best when it was all over. “It felt like walking naked in the hot sun across broken class, in order to eat a cockroach and then impale yourself on a giant dildo.”zzzzzz

Everything we usually did was turned up to a ten on the intensity scale. We also had to break out of our normal pattern of working as whores and fuck for free. Master liked arranging gang bangs for us but they were actually pretty hard to arrange on the road.

I felt like the ordeal lasted for a week, but Master said we had only been doing it for three and a half days. My daughter and sister agreed that it felt much longer. They also only let us sleep a few hours a day so that may have accounted for the fact we lost track of time.

My sister’s comment to me when he told us we had earned the right to be considered “Good Girls” was that this was nothing compared to the horrors that Victor’s mom had to endure for years in an old-fashioned Brazilian torture chamber. She was right – but it was the most grueling experience of my life and I could probably end the story here.

I had my bitch button held down permanently. It was what I wanted and what I had asked to receive. It was what I deserved on some level and I felt like karma had acted to take one manipulative rage bitch out of circulation by finally showing me that I was better off as someone’s whore and property.

I accepted that and looked forward to serving Mike. I looked forward to serving with my sister and my daughter even though I knew for them this was not a permanent situation.

I had fully surrendered to my Owner. I assumed at that stage when you have given up all dignity and control to someone you become a robo-slut and a total thoughtless bimbo.

However, I kept thinking and feeling and experiencing pain, humiliation and the exhaustion of hard work with no appreciation or gratitude given or expected. It was perfectly suited to keeping me in line and preventing me from having any attitude.

I rarely thought about “Amanda” the person I was any longer. At times, I had to say that was my name, but I no longer felt like I was telling the truth. It felt humiliating to say it out loud.

I didn’t want to go back to my old life. I didn’t want to be free either. I identified a lot with Dancer in that I felt this was my calling and my place now. I didn’t want to live like a lazy bitch and or a piggy either.

I didn’t think I deserved to be a “good girl” that was master’s top tier. It came with all sorts of perks like sitting on the toilet and using toilet paper. I was able to eat human food again at a table and not even have to stand (unless I misbehaved).

I felt guilty when I sat on the toilet for the first time in weeks. I didn’t have to turn around and spread my cheeks and squat either. I sat down and took a crap without someone standing over me laughing and holding their nose.

It was enjoyable to me but bittersweet because I knew I would seldom go above and beyond what Master expected. I certainly did everything I was told and Master didn’t set me up to fail, but I couldn’t imagine ways I could give “more” and do “more” than what was asked.

I wasn’t wired to be an extra-credit seeker. I was wired to do what I had to do. I had learned to do it with a smile and show appreciation. I had learned to be empathetic about other people’s pain and give them the respect of actually listening to what they had to say. I knew I would probably be a “Well Behaved slut” and all of the things that I was experiencing as a “Good girl” like time to relax or people food would be taken away from again.

In a way, I felt it was cruel because I had forgotten the simple joy of having a moment to contemplate while smoking a cigarette. Master gave me that again and I knew he would be taking it away after I had a few days as a Good Girl.

He first told us we were going to be good girls when we hit Orlando. We still had to be polite and follow our disciplinary protocol. We still had to dress like sluts. We still had to turn tricks. We were naked slaves in the motor home but we were given a modicum of dignity and modesty when we were out in the real world.

Master didn’t mock us, tease us, or even give us daily affirmations. He spanked us when we did or said something stupid but it only happened once and we stopped.

We cheered when we finally arrived at Disney World. We were permitted to look out of the window as we drove under the big arches at the entry way. I was in awe. I’ve always wanted to go there.

His wife was waiting for us at the Wilderness Lodge when we arrived. Disney has a campground for motorhomes and I assumed that we’d be staying there. Mike had gone all out and booked us a suite in a nearby hotel. It was designed for large families and had adjoining bedrooms and a kitchen! I don’t mean a fridge and a microwave – I mean a full on kitchen.

I could imagine Victor and Ernesto going wild in a place like that.

The hotel was elegant but very earthy. The lobby was vast and made of huge beams of carved wood that looked like they came from the biggest trees in the world. The fireplace was made of huge boulders and there were dozens of comfy rocking chairs.

I nearly shit myself when Mike offered to let us have a hot cocoa and sit in front of the fireplace. It was a small comfort but one we enjoyed tremendously. My sister and daughter and I chatted and talked non stop about how cool this place was.

His wife Wendy wasn’t happy to see us. She knew about us but she had told him that he could pick up one slave. She had brown wavy hair and was middle aged. She wasn’t bad looking.

Her son Eddie looked Hispanic even though nether she or Mike looked the least bit Hispanic. I wasn’t sure if he was adopted or had a different father. He was handsome, affable and easy going. He introduced himself and talked to us like we were equals. He knew all about us and he called us by our new names.

I’d love to tell you the story about our adventure at Walt Disney World except there really wasn’t anything exciting that happened. At least, it wasn’t as exciting as everything it took to get there.

We slept in actual beds (together) and we were not tied up. We didn’t have to eat each other’s asses or eat off the floor either. We actually sat at the table in the room even though we could have totally crawled and ate like dogs.

Mike did expect us to flash our tits on Thunder Mountain. They automatically snap a picture when you are at the most exciting moment on the ride. He told us all to pop our tops at the same time and we lifted our shirts and let our boobs hang out.

It turns out that Disney frowns on that big time and they won’t let you ride it again.

We were a little naughty around the theme parks. We weren’t all that risqué’ though. There was a drunken bridal party that were flashing their tits and flirting with guys in Epcot that was a lot wilder than us. The Bride-to-be wore a white shirt that said “I WANT THE D” in Disney font (implying she wanted Dick instead of Disney)

All of her bridesmaids wore black shirts that said “SHE WANTS THE D! (And so do we, so it’s HI-HO, HI-HO, THAT’S ALL YOU’VE GOT TO SAY TO ME!) in smaller letters under that.

I didn’t know if they bought those shirts at Disney or had them made.

All in all, our visit was pretty PG-13 compared to everything else. It was a perfect time to let us be Good Girls. I doubted we could have gotten away with anything really raunchy. We were naked in the room but our only housekeepers were women and they left when they saw we were undressed.

My mom was confused when she saw us on the webcam after we called her. She didn’t believe we were really at Disney and thought we were bullshitting her for some reason. She made Mike move the computer around so that she could see everything in the room and the pool area below our balcony. I think my mom was actually jealous that we were finally there.

She had always promised she’d take us when we were little. She dated a long series of asshole men and married a few of them that promised to take us as well. None of them ever did. Mike did and I think she saw that as an insult to her for some reason. It was a strange call and she told us to quit and come back and stay with her.

“You can run around naked up here. I talked to your step-father and he said we’ll put a dog cage for each of you and feed you like animals if that is what it takes for you to be happy,” Mom finally offered. I knew she meant well.

I wanted to say that her boyfriend/husband was never my step-father. He didn’t raise me and she had only been dating him for the last three years. They weren’t legally married as far as I knew either. That never stopped my mom from telling us that a guy she lived with us was our new dad though.

We assured her we were happy where we were, and this is where belonged. She looked at us like we were ungrateful pieces of shit and actually hung up on us.

There were times at Disney we expected Mike to spank us or dunk our heads in the toilets but it just never happened.

Master paid for a three-day park hopper for all of us so we got to go Magic Kingdom, Epcot and Animal Kingdom but not Hollywood studios. It was too packed. That was a bummer for Master Jessie because he was a huge Star Wars fan.

Wendy didn’t talk to us much. She made it clear she was the boss of us but she didn’t want to be called Mistress. We had to call her Ma’am or Wendy. She didn’t tell us much about herself or what her experience with BDSM was.

I got the impression she may have been submissive at one point with Mike but not fulltime. I also had the impression she was concerned that Eddie would be able to see/do things with us that she didn’t want him to do.

His son really didn’t seem all that interested in us to be honest. Well, that’s not true. He really liked Jessie and they got along great. They talked a lot. He used to swat our asses, pull our hair, twist our nipples and keep us on our ties all the time over little infractions but he didn’t do that at Disney.

My daughter really liked Eddie. I think she had a crush on him, but he didn’t give her the time of day. Well, that is not true. He’d be polite and respond to things she said, and he wasn’t being a dick to her. He just didn’t seem interested in her and I think that frustrated her. It may have also made her more interested in him. She made it pretty obvious she was flirting with him and he just wouldn’t take the bait.

Eddie showed no interest in being our Master, and enforcing his father’s rules with us. The three days were glorious but confusing.

There were parts of it that were a lot of fun. We could talk freely without being spoken to first. Mike was very relaxed about speech protocols. We rode rides, we ate awesome food, we even got to pick out what we wanted to eat. I thought it was a trick at first.

My sister had a good time, I had a good time, everyone did. It was nice.

“All good things come to an end,” Mike announced as we packed up. He gave us our first “family meeting” on Sunday before we checked out. We squatted in a semi-circle in the nude with our legs spread. Mike gagged us with a black rubber gag. He wanted our undivided attention and made it so we couldn’t interrupt.

Eddie and Wendy were present but they didn’t really participate. They just observed.

Mike listed off what we did well, what we did poorly, and what we needed to do more of. He told us what we needed to work on and gave us constructive feedback. It was stuff like forgetting to hold the door open for him and his family or expressing the appropriate amount of gratitude towards strangers.

It wasn’t anything big like “You are a terrible slave and you don’t know the five basic positions.”

He also went over our financial statements. I was surprised that one of the things Mike had been doing on his laptop was keeping pretty accurate counts of our earnings. He showed us what we earned by week and then how much of that went into the bank. He said he’d like to start a saving’s account for each of us at his bank when he got to West Palm Beach (where he lived) and make us hand over the cash to the teller.

“It will feel more real to you if the money passes from your hand to theirs. It doesn’t seem like much on paper,” he said.

My daughter had over eighteen hundred dollars saved after expenses had been taken out. (Remember we only get 50% of our earnings if we are good girls or well behaved sluts. We get 25% as piggies but Mike gave all of our earnings to Victor while we were there. We get nothing as lazy bitches).

Kim had twenty-seven hundred dollars in her account. That was a lot.

Then he removed our gags. He put a dildo between my tits and made me titty fuck it. “When you are done telling you will pass it to your sister next to you and she can talk. You can’t pass it with you hands obviously.”

He expected me to talk about what I learned, questions I had, what I wanted and what I was learning. I didn’t have anything prepared and I said some generic things about appreciating being at Disney and being a good girl.

Then I leaned over my sister and passed the dildo while holding my tits together. Eddie laughed at how silly we looked, and Wendy glared at him.

Kim addressed Mike politely. Her first question was about the money he showed in her account. “I appreciate everything you are doing for me but Is $2,700 more than $7.25 an hour?” she asked as she tried to do math in her head. She wasn’t very good at math. Mike told her if she counted a 40-hour week she was probably making closer to 10-20 dollars an hour.

“Yeah, but I don’t just work for forty hours. I work all day, Sir” she appeared disappointed.

Wendy told her to be grateful she was getting anything and had a roof over her head. “I’ve got all sorts of jobs lined up for you cleaning houses, mowing lawns, and turning tricks. You’ll be cleaning houses and offering additional services to the men of the house when they are home!”

“Thank you Ma’am,” my sister nodded appreciatively. She asked Mike another question while humping the dildo between her chest. She probably looked ridiculous. “You said that you use our money to cover the cost of keeping us. How much did we have to pay from our savings for the tickets to Disney?”

Mike chuckled and said that he hadn’t adjusted the savings yet because he hadn’t received the final bill but he would not split the bill evenly. “I paid for one suite, you just stayed in it.”

Chastity (my sister) picked the tip of the dildo up with her mouth, sucked it out from between her cleavage and passed it to my daughter. She sucked the base and then did her best to move it to her own smaller boobs and titty fuck herself with it by pressing her boobs together.

“I guess my question is do I go to the second grade?”

“Yes, I think you are ready. You’ve probably been ready for a while and I am glad you asked about it. You’ll start training your asshole a lot more. I am going to expect you to start taking dick up the ass, too.”

“Yes Master,” my daughter actually gushed like she was embarrassed in front of Eddie.

“You can start charging twenty dollars for a half hour. You’ll tell customers they can finger fuck you, flick your clit, pinch it, lick it, and you can suck their dicks or take them up your ass.”

“Oh wow,” she said. Master ordered her to bend over, and he instructed her to fuck herself in the ass with the dildo we had been using to fuck our titties. We watched as she rode it.