Chapter 9

Brittany crawled through the mud and cleaned up her mess by burying it with her hands. She washed her knees off and followed me back inside, still wet from the experience. I was surprised at how readily she accepted this humiliation.

She was so sexy, crawling in the mud. The look on her face was pure bliss. It wasn’t that she enjoyed the situation. She just seemed like an eternal optimist. She chuckled playfully. If you know what a “MILF” is – she is one. She has such a sexy quality, but I qualify that by saying she isn’t seductive. She is just one big bundle of happy – that happens to have two huge tits on her chest.

My father seemed calm and collected when we returned. I had a feeling he had observed me from the window. He told me that I did an excellent job, and he was proud of me. Brittany said the same thing and shrugged it off as a typical part of her daily hygiene. Brittany asked permission to explain herself to me. She wasn’t trying to teach me anything. I granted the permission, but I was apprehensive because I wasn’t used to giving permission to anyone - much less an adult in her own house.

“You still seem confused and shaken. That really makes me sad, Sir. I don’t want you to ever be uncomfortable around me. I am just me!”

The way she breezily admitted she was “just me” made her sound so down to earth and sweet. I felt terrible that I had a boner still from the experience that I had. I knew she noticed it, but she ignored it completely.

“The women of this house do not defy. It is our lot to suffer, Oscar. Our virtue is meekness. We are humble in our words. We work hard. We think what is right and try to do that, but the flesh is weak, and we often fall to temptation. We look to you and your father to guide us. I know you probably think I am a terrible mother for not doing it myself, but I have tried to guide my daughters in the path away from sin in the absence of a man of the house.”

It made sense. I told Brittany that I did not think she was a bad mom at all. I am not sure she believed me, but she smiled brightly.

“I just don’t understand why you trust me to tell you what to do. What if I told you to walk out into traffic?”

Brittany looked over her shoulder out of the window of her farmhouse. We were as far away from a highway as most anyone could be. I clarified that I could tell her to do that in the town.

“But you wouldn’t tell me to do that, Sir” Brittany’s simple answer was trusting and honest.

“I know, but what if I did?”

“I know that you are a good and righteous person like your father. You would not tell me to do that, so I am safe. The only thing you cannot tell me to do is remove the chastity belt,” she admitted.

“Why do you wear it anyway? I understand that you are protecting your daughter’s virginity, but you have had two daughters. Why do you need one?”

Brittany impishly smirked and looked from side to side as if preparing herself to answer my question.

My father explained that was his one instruction. He held up the keys to the belt. “After we are married, it comes off, but when I am not home, it comes right back on. This is for her own good – to keep her from playing with herself,” he said.

Brittany blushed a little and seemed to nod that she would be tempted. She appeared thankful for that restriction and shyly nodded approval. “It is for my own good, Sir. I was wearing this before I met your wonderful father. It is hot, heavy, and uncomfortable, but it reminds me of the many chains I would bear in hell if I were free to indulge my lustful desires.”

Brittany seemed so wholesome. It was hard to think of her as being a nymphomaniac. At the same time, she seemed so open and honest about her sexuality it was hardly surprising she would also enjoy sex tremendously.

I grew more comfortable that afternoon around the girls, and my father often explained their strange behavior. The girls went about cleaning and performing chores. They often knelt in prayer and took time to talk to me politely. I got used to the idea of half-naked girls in chastity belts around me, but I never stopped staring.

As dinner time approached, my father announced we would have confession first. The girls seemed excited to finally admit their sins out loud. The part that shocked me the most was my Dad unlocked and removed their chastity belts completely. Heather and her mother’s humongous tits were flopping freely in front of me. Brittany’s knockers were heavy but stood up on their own. Heather’s natural tits drooped down and then curved up. Jayne was completely naked as well, but she had been walking around flat-chested and topless all day anyway.

Their cunts were completely shaved. They insisted on calling them cunts, and the first thing they did was bring out a bowl of warm water and a mirror. Then they squatted over it and shaved themselves in the living room. They were already hairless, but the girls were meticulous about ensuring their lower body was hairless. Armpits, ass cheeks, pussies, legs, everywhere was shaved.

Brittany looked up and noticed I was watching. My Dad was busy reading a book. He had obviously seen this before and paid no attention. “It has to be done. We would be hairy beasts if we didn’t shave. I wouldn’t want to be confused with bigfoot,” she laughed. I was sure she wasn’t a hairy beast, but it made it easier for me to feel less guilty about watching them.

“Do you need one of the girls to milk you, Sir?” Brittany asked as if it would be no problem for her daughters to jerk me off in the living room.

Heather and Jayne looked up when their mother offered to have them jerk me off.

“It isn’t a problem,” she explained. “Men get horny, and looking at us this way is probably sending a million little confusing signals to your brain. We don’t want you to uh, get blue balls. You could hurt yourself. If you want to be milked, all you have to do is ask.”

She seemed to believe it was her fault if her actions made me horny and that it was only fair trade that the women of the house offer some relief.

That only turned me on further. My Dad set down his book and looked at me. He said nothing. I didn’t want to seem like a pervert, so I politely declined. Brittany apologized and continued shaving.

I fantasized about titty fucking Heather again. I couldn’t imagine doing that in front of her mother or my father. It seemed so far out! Yet, they seemed okay with it. I instantly regretted not speaking up.

My father lined them up when they were finished and felt all three of them up. He made them turn around and ran his hands around their body. He told me to watch and said that if there is a single piece of stubble, the punishment is always 10 whips with the lash over the missed area.

He made them lay on their backs and spread their legs. They brought their feet up, and I could see their shaved cunts and into the pink of their pussies. Jayne was the only one whose pussy crack was just a slimline. Heather and her mother had fat pussy lips. I imagined going down on them and eating them out.

I started sweating and adjusting myself.

“What if the hair you spot is not on their butts?”

Heather and Brittany had peach fuzz on their asses before they started shaving. It was nearly imperceptible at first glance because it was blonde and very light. Jayne’s ass was completely smooth.

My Dad looked over his shoulder at me and slapped Brittany’s freshly shaved bald cunt lips. Her pussy was already red from being newly shaved. She didn’t move. “An eye for an eye, a cunt for a cunt. The girls almost never miss a spot. They are very thorough, but that is because it isn’t pleasant to get called out.”

He told me that the offending area would be spanked – and spanked Brittany’s cunt to demonstrate. It was a hard slap. I nearly shot my load on the spot.

Dad spread their cunt lips and looked at their teeth. He pulled their hair and lifted their tits as well. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for, and I didn’t have the courage to ask. I watched quietly as the girls stood at attention and looked straight ahead with their legs apart and their hands behind their head.

Once Dad was satisfied with their bodies, he marched them outside. It would have probably shocked their neighbors if they had any. The girls thought nothing of walking out of the house completely nude. They marched single file to a wooden fence post. My Dad showed me some old rope and some other objects on a table. The rope was frayed and looked very old. He told me that it had a tendency to expand when they sweat. “If you ever leave them tied up for a while, you have to watch them in this rope. If they start sweating, it will expand, and they can get loose. I like it, though because it is scratchy and itchy!”

He let me rub my hands on the coarse rope. I couldn’t imagine what that felt like against their skin.

My Dad showed me how to tie the girls up. He started with Heather and Jayne first. He made them suck on the end of a wooden stick about eight inches long. It reminded me of a dick with two ends. The stick was freshly chopped off a tree. It still had bark and leaves on it. The girls each took about three inches down their throats, and it made their necks look puffy. They groaned in discomfort as he tied them squatting to the fence post.

He used a big stick to prop each of them up while they were bound with legs spread in a squatting position. The sticks had black rubber on the tip. He made them suck them first and get them wet before placing the stakes in the dirt and making them sit down on them.

I was positive he shoved that stick up their asses (on the rubber end). It was the only thing holding up their body weight. Their tits were tightly bound, and they started to immediately fill with blood, and the veins started to show. Their arms were bound to the second wooden post with double knots and spread out away from their bodies. Their legs and knees were bound to the bottom post of the fence. Their ankles were also bound, forcing their legs apart so that their pussies were spread and fully on display.

Brittany smiled and waited her turn. She held my arm as if I were politely escorting her to dinner. She seemed enthusiastic about her own daughters being bound and helpless. We could have done ANYTHING to them, and they would not have had a choice like this.

Once the girls were finished, my father took his time with Brittany. Her huge tits required extra bindings, and he clamped her nipples with heavy screws and tightened them. Brittany looked uncomfortable, but she didn’t complain.

“How did you do this before my father started coming over?” I asked her.

“It wasn’t easy. I had to flog the girls and then flog myself. I started adding additional bindings like the titty clamps to make it less comfortable for myself since I wasn’t tied to the fence, Sir”.

“Why do you have to be tied to the fence at all?” I was expecting a biblical quote that somehow justified this. If they wanted to confess, then I assumed they would stay where they were supposed to be.

“It is in this absolute state of exposure and vulnerability that we are exposed as the wicked sluts we truly are, Sir. I know you think I am a goody-two-shoes, but I make a lot of mistakes.” Brittany offered.

Brittany didn’t really answer my question.

My father continued to tighten her bindings and explained it to me a little further. “If we just asked the girls to confess without any act of contrition, they may lie. The privacy of the Catholic confession booth allows anonymity between confessor and sinner. Their faith requires the opposite. They must be exposed as sinners, bound, and have pain inflicted on them as a form of mortification. The combination of bondage, pain, and humility sparks their desire to confess all of their sins.”