Chapter 3: My Father’s Home

After breakfast, I went back to my room and changed into some clothes that were not quite as formal as I’d worn last night as when I dined with my father.

My slave followed me in there. When she entered, she fell to her knees and waited by the bedroom entrance.

“My father wants to see me at his home, alone,” I informed her.

She nodded, “I was there for about an hour, with my mother, before I came here. That was where she shaved my pussy.”

“Did you meet anyone there?” I asked.

“Just your father and mother, everyone else was asleep.”

The thought of her at loose-ends, while I was away, disturbed me. “Do have any other skills, besides giving great sex?”

She shook her head, “I cannot operate anything complicated like a vacuum cleaner. I do know how to operate a washing machine and dryer. I can also scrub and clean bathrooms.”

I nodded, “That’s great. While I am gone, wash my sheets. They are a mess from all your squirting. If you still have time, wash my clothes and get the bathroom spotless.”

She stood up, “Yes, Master.” She strode to the bed and took off the pillowcases.

Satisfied, I left her to her tasks.

The trip to my father’s other home in my new convertible was not a long one. I followed the instructions on the app, and I got there in fifteen minutes. I was there with thirty minutes to spare. I drove by the house slowly, wondering if I should wait in the driveway, or drive around the neighborhood. Fortunately, I saw my father waiting in the front yard, leaning against his car.

I pulled in.

He greeted me with a hug. “Tell me how you like your girl.”

Leaning against his car, under the shade of a tree, I gave him an account of the past twelve hours.

He nodded as I talked, often saying, “Good, good.”

When I finished, he looked me straight in the eye, “You need to remember one thing. Your girl is not your girlfriend or you wife. She is your sex slave. She was bred and raised for this role since birth.

“To keep her content in this, you must not spoil her, or treat her too kindly. That will lead to her thinking that she is special and in charge of the house. She is not. If you do, you will end up either getting rid of her or using force to correct her behavior.”

That was a lot for me to take in at once, so I changed the subject. “I get to give her a name? She does not have a name?”

“That’s right. It has been discovered that giving her two names is best. Give her a secret name, only known between you and her, and only used in private, and another name that is to be used in public.

“The special name is useful in creating a bond between the two of you, and foster a sense of intimacy.

“For instance, the name your mother has, that you know, is Cat or Catherine. The special name, known just between her and me, is Pussy.

“You are only the third person to know this. Please don’t tell her that you know this.”

I nodded, “I can see how the secret name evolved into the public.”

“I called her that because, to this day, she is the best pussy I have ever had. To her, I told her that her pussy was the best part of her.”

I let out a whistle, “I see what you mean about not being too kind.”

“These girls have been raised being taught that their worth is in their sexuality. If they think differently, they will spiral out of control.

“Choose her private name based on her sexuality. The public name should not be one that flatters her.”

I thought of my two housekeepers, Mable and Gertrude. “Were my two household staff members slaves?”

He smiled and nodded, “They still are. When a sex slave goes through menopause, if they have finished rearing their young and they get trained, they get sold or traded to a new household as housekeepers.

My mind raced, some ideas of names started forming.

“I thought they went home every night. Where do they live?”

“The little house across the street. That gives you some privacy, and allows them to come over quickly, if you need any help in the middle of the night.”

“Any other questions?”

“Mable and Gertrude were sex slaves? They must still like sex. Is there any way I could...”

My dad smiled, “They were strictly forbidden before you became a man. But now, if you want a little MILF action, feel free.”

I got aroused thinking about those women alone in their little house. Just themselves and their toys to keep them satisfied.”

“Any other questions?”

“Not at the moment,” I replied.

“Let’s go inside. You will probably have more when you see my household.”

As we walked to the front door, a feeling of deja vu swept over me. “Have I ever been here before?”

“You lived here, until you were two. As soon as a male is weened and toilet trained, he is moved to his own house, with his own set of servants.”

The front door opened into a reception area, similar to my home. It was situated on the edge of a cliff, and the bay windows opened to a spectacular view of the valley below.

In the room two brown-haired girls were giggling and chasing each other. They were both naked. The older one, maybe twelve-years-old, was wearing a chastity belt. The younger one, aged somewhere between eight and ten, was completely naked.

When the two saw who had walked in, they immediately fell to their knees and bowed their heads.

Just then, a young boy, about eighteen-months-old, ran into the room from a hallway laughing. He was wearing a blue romper, and had brown hair, like me and my father had.

My mother, completely naked, ran in after him, “Clark, you get back here!”

This was the first time I remember seeing her naked. She always came to my house fully clothed.

When she saw us at the door, she grabbed the boy and fell to her knees, clutching him.

“You can rise,” Dad said to the four.

The three got off their knees.

“Where’s Dex?” he asked.”

My mother answered, “She’s out by the pool, last I saw of her, Master.”

She then turned to me, “Brad, it is so good to see you. I hear you are now officially a man.”