Chapter 17

“Make them kiss, Mr. M!” Julie said gleefully from next to Kristina. Ken agreed and told Danny to bring me back to where Jessica was. Once again Danny found my nipples as if it was required in order to guide me. As if I couldn’t have done it myself. Well, I didn’t WANT to do that either, but it was another nasty thing, and I was not being given a choice anyway, right?

I wanted to screw my eyes tightly shut to combat the pain Danny was causing me, but at the same time, I wanted to see what Jessica was doing. Christian’s shorts and underwear were puddled on the floor where Jessica had pulled them off him and unceremoniously dropped them. Chris had his legs up, his knees grasped behind his forearm. He’s scooted forward in his chair so Jessica could reach his butt and Jessica was pushing her tongue between his cheeks.

What struck me most was not that she was doing it. It was Christian’s cock. This was a fourteen year old boy who didn’t even weigh a hundred pounds. If he was any skinnier he’d look malnourished. Yet my son’s dick was fully erect and was shaped like a banana. About the size of one too. Maybe six inches long, but impressively girthy. Almost as thick as Ken’s. Nor did he seem concerned about it being on display. His hairy balls were resting on Jessica’s nose as she probed his anus. It could have been a scene right out of a porno.

My first thought was one a mother should never have. I admit I wondered if Danny had a cock that big too. My second thought was as disturbing as the first. I wondered if Danny was even hairier than his brother. Danny has much thicker hair on his legs, but his brother did no manscaping to reduce what he had either. Do teenage boys ever shave down there? I wondered.

“Alright, Fartbox. Enough eating ass. Let Drip taste what you got from Chris. A nice french kiss before you clean that slobber off her face and share it,” Ken said. His voice sounded so husky it was hard to recognize as that of my husband.

Jessica didn’t hesitate. She pulled away from Chris and in moments, was kissing me. It wasn’t a harmless kiss either – this was all tongue. My daughter even sucked my lip into her mouth and ran her tongue across my teeth.

She’d once before described to me kissing Elizabeth with a dildo filling their throats. I knew Jessica had no qualms about kissing a girl instead of a guy. It seemed she had no qualms over kissing her mother either. I could feel her stubby nipples get hard as we embraced.

I’d never kissed another female before, much less my own daughter. I’d never had the inclination to. The first thing I noticed was the lack of stubble. The second thing I noticed was Jessica’s enthusiasm. She kissed HARD as if she was crazy horny or something. Maybe she was. I was. Even though it was my daughter’s mouth on mine. Her hands came up to pull my head more firmly towards hers. Then I tasted her tongue. She wasn’t trying to avoid mine with hers, but rather, she wanted to lick my tongue while we kissed, sharing the not too horrible earthy taste she’d received from Christian’s butt hole.

I think she would have continued kissing me, especially when I began to respond. It would have been impossible not to. Jessica is an amazing kisser! But Ken reminded her to clean my face off, and she knew what he meant. Kristina’s spit was dripping off my chin by this time. There were strings of saliva that had already broken off and had landed on the upper slopes of my boobs. Kristina obediently licked my face from forehead to chin before feeding it back into my mouth.

I tried to ignore what she was collecting with her mouth, but I couldn’t. One daughter was about to feed me saliva that had been inside another daughter. I did NOT want to enjoy it, and I would be happy to never have to repeat the experience, but the situation had overridden my reluctance. When Jessica’s mouth came back to mine, I put as much effort into swapping spit with my daughter as she did. Ken had to repeat himself when he told us to stop.

I’m glad Ken did force us to stop. I was contemplating the idea of getting my fingers into Jessica’s pussy. I later found out Jessica was thinking the same thing. I was NOT a lesbian or bisexual that first time. I had never before admitted, even to myself, an interest in seeing what all the fuss was about being with a woman. I was doing all this in an effort to win sex bets with cocks, not pussies.

It was like a bucket of ice water had been thrown on me when Danny said, “Damn, mom! I didn’t know you like chicks too!” His words were only magnified by him calling me, ‘mom’. Ken had been absolutely right to give me a nickname. It distanced me from being thought of as ‘mom’. But I could hardly ask my son to start calling me ‘Drip’ either. I knew Ken had come up with that name in reference to my privates being so wet.

I had never felt so ashamed of myself. Of losing control co completely. There was a component of self-loathing that made me want to beg for punishment. Real punishment, not the sort of punishment that I could accidentally begin to enjoy.

Like Danny squeezing my nipples even though that too had sent bolts of electricity straight to my pussy. I realized at that moment that I’d given myself a bad example. I didn’t really hate that either. I had just wanted to hate it. It had been real pain, but that pain had somehow morphed into pleasure. At the time, I was completely ignorant of endorphins and what they did to me. While all this was going through my mind, Ken had been talking. I missed everything he said until he snapped, “Drip!” I realized he was talking to me.

“I’m sorry, Sir. Can you please repeat yourself?” I asked quietly, almost whispering.

Ken had been telling the children that he wanted to demonstrate a spanking just like Jessica had suggested, and he’d asked me what punishment I was offering up. I had no idea. In a way, everything I was doing was punishing me. In my mind, I could think of nothing more I could submit to, that would be as painful as the nipple pulling, as humiliating as having someone watch me make out with my own daughter or as degrading as kneeling with my thighs splayed, my pussy on display.

“I could repeat lines?” I suggested. It was something I’d seen in a movie once where an abducted soldier was forced to repeat things his captors told him to say to a camera. The soldier had repeated the words in so many different ways and so often that he’d come to believe what he was saying. I explained that such a punishment might do me good. My ears were burning as I made the suggestion.

“That’s a great idea. Say after me. I am a slut and proud of it,” Kendrick said. He knew I hated calling myself a slut, but I dutifully repeated the phrase. “Again! But louder this time. Make us believe it!” He insisted.

By the time I’d repeated it ten times, I was practically screaming it. I was glad our neighbors weren’t too close. But more importantly, I FELT like I was trying to convince my family that it really was true.

The spanking demonstration was somewhat of a letdown in that I didn’t feel like I’d deserved to be treated the way I was. It just didn’t seem fair that Ken could swat my butt and expect me to stand still for it. After the first one, I squealed and jumped up, holding my hands protectively over my butt. Jessica did too, but she quickly resumed her position, bent over, ready for another. I had no intention of allowing Ken to slap my ass that hard in front of my children a second time!

“What’s the matter, Drip? Your bottom hurts?” He laughed at my antics. It really hadn’t hurt as much as I’d made out. It was more humiliating than painful. As if the pain wasn’t enough.

“Yes, Sir! Of course it hurts! Why don’t you drop your pants and let me show you?” I finally managed to reply.

“Then you wouldn’t learn a thing. If you want this as much as you say you do, you’ll happily submit to spankings from anyone here, just like Fartbox is.”

That was even more unfair. I couldn’t let my daughter show me up. I bent at the waist again, ready for a second one. Jessica counted hers, and this time, she didn’t move. I had to bite my lip and stay still too.

“I want to see some improvement over the next few weeks in these sluts’ behavior,” Kendrick said to my children as he finished his sixth slap on my red bottom. “These ladies will come before you again when they have demonstrated they know how to behave and tell you whether or not they want to continue. If they both say no, things will return to normal. If one of them begs for us to go back to the way things were, they’ll first have to spend another week doing anything the other tells them to. If they both want to carry on, we’ll decide how to move forward then.”

Go back to normal? I knew things could never go back to how they were. I couldn’t wave a magic wand and make everyone forget I’d stood - or rather knelt - before them and asked them to treat me this way, then switch gears and think things could ever return to ‘normal’.

Kendrick made Jessica and I stand in the corner while they continued to discuss the family project. We could hear what was said, but we were told not to make a sound, stand straight and make sure our noses, toes, and nipples barely touched the wall. No leaning against the wall, but no space between the wall and those three points of contact. It was one of the hardest things he’d made me do yet, even though it was one of the simplest. My whole family watched as I was treated like a five year old.

The only difference between Ken making me do that and me having done it to one of them when they were little, is that I would not have allowed the way Kendrick did, any snickers and giggles like I could hear from my children. Ken didn’t stop them. If anything, he encouraged it.

We stood there while Ken went into detail about the competition he had in mind. He was acting like Jane and Elizabeth had already agreed. I listened helplessly while Ken divided us up into zones. Kristina would be responsible for our heads and necks. Danny would be responsible for our torsos and Christian, our lower bodies.

“What do you mean by that, dad?” Christian asked, and his question was echoed by the others.

“Well, each competition will test something different. If you agree to be responsible for their pussy, ass, legs, and feet, you’d have to come up with ways of ensuring they have a chance of winning competitions that test those areas. Danny would come up with ways of preparing their torsos and Kristina would prepare their heads. It’s clear to me that Kristina is most interested in understanding why they’re doing this. It will give her a chance to understand them better. Danny likes boobs, so he’ll do his best to prepare theirs. I can tell, Chris, that you have a fascination with asses. What can go inside them, how they look and what they can take, but I don’t want you to ignore their cunts. Are you willing to get to know Fartbox and Drip’s lower halves as if they were your own?”

“I’m pretty well acquainted with mom’s ass already, dad!” Chris laughed. I thought of the way Christian had focused on mine lately and knew he was right. He knew mine almost better than I knew it myself.

“Do you know how far it stretches? Do you know if she can hold things in her cunt and drop them on command? Do you know how wide she can hold her thighs apart without dropping something? How about how much weight she can hang from her piss flaps?”

“What exactly are piss flaps?” Chris asked.

“See what I mean, son? There are mysteries that I want you to uncover and understand. These days, most parents accept that their kids look at porn, yet they try their best to limit their innocent children’s exposure to it with internet blockers. I’m offering you a unique opportunity to compare what you can find online to a real pair of sluts. All I ask is that you find out what these two can do without breaking them. Think of it like a science project. How they’re the same and how they’re different. Your sister has a virgin asshole. Compare it to your mom’s. Are their cunts different too?” He asked, challenging my son to compare our pussies.

I expected at that moment for Jessica to bolt. To at least say her brother was NOT going to explore her pussy, but other than a sharp intake of breath, my daughter remained silent next to me. To be honest, I expected her to quit right then and there. She didn’t. If Christian hadn’t been taking serious liberties with me over the last week or more already, I think I would possibly have quit at that moment.

“So am I just supposed to figure out what makes mom tick or is there more to it for me too?” I heard Kristina ask in a tone I couldn’t decipher without being able to see her face. I’d heard Julie whispering to her and I hoped she wasn’t giving my youngest daughter ideas.

“Anything to do with their heads, Krissy. Can they deepthroat? Do they have easy gag reflexes, how long their tongues are, do they watch what they’re doing, or are they easily distracted. As I said, anything to do with their heads. Can you do that?”

“Can we watch them suck dick?” Julie asked as if she was part of ‘Team Kristina’ too.

“Can you find a guy willing to have his dick sucked while you watch?” Ken replied without hesitation.

“Oh,” Julie replied, not actually answering him. I would have asked if Ken was going to provide the cock for cock sucking practice. I also knew I wouldn’t have. It would have been too embarrassing.

“Look. If this is too much, I understand, guys,” Ken said, picking up on his youngest daughter’s mood or something. With my nose in the corner, I couldn’t really gauge the expressions on my children’s faces. “If you are okay with it, then I’m happy to provide the cock. But I’m not doing anything you’re uncomfortable with, okay?”

“Cool!” Julie said then I heard a slap and a bunch of whispering between Julie and Kristina that I couldn’t understand.

“What about school?” Danny asked. “Is Jess ... I mean Fartbox ... going to be normal at school and just a slut around here?” he asked.

“Well, I want Fartbox supervised at school, but I don’t know how that would work. Any ideas?” Kendrick asked Danny.

Jessica giggled any time she overheard the rest of the family call her Fartbox. It was so over the top that it did seem pretty funny. I thought she’d be outraged but she wasn’t taking everything they said seriously like I was.

“Leave it to me,” Danny said confidently as if he knew exactly what he was going to do. I suddenly didn’t relish being in Jessica’s shoes. It sounded like Danny had some ideas. From the brief, quiet whimpering from Jessica, I imagined she had some ideas too. She quickly controlled herself. She was impressing me with her courage.

That night, Ken took Jessica’s anal virginity. I would have described exactly what happened, but I wasn’t there. Part of me was relieved about that, yet in a way, I felt left out. There’s no way to describe how I felt, really, knowing my husband was putting his dick into my daughter’s butt. I might have totally freaked out if I’d been there that first time. At least that’s what Kendrick thought, so he forbade me from entering my own bedroom.

That in itself was almost too much. Knowing my husband was likely doing something sexual with my daughter while I slept in her bed was heart wrenching and at the same time, I masturbated half the night and woke up more tired than I was when I went to bed. Waking up in Jessica’s bed, nude, just felt wrong. I always slept with Ken. It had been different when I’d spent the night outside. Then, I had been uncomfortable, and I felt like I had been paying a price for doing what I’d done. Waking up in a comfy bed yet alone, was not something I wanted to repeat. I promised myself that I’d talk to Ken about it and I did. His response wasn’t what I’d expected.

“I can accept that, Carrie. I have just the solution, too. Tonight, I’ll tie you up.”

Kendrick was surprisingly good at bondage with ropes. The rope he chose was smooth nylon that expanded when I sweat. It wasn’t too tight and constricting. He let Chris and Danny help him and they tickled me while they wrapped the rope around my thighs, wrists, ankles and through my legs.

They did the same thing to Jessica that night and tied us on the floor so that we were laying on our sides titty to titty. We had to face each other. I was surprised they didn’t make us lay with our faces in each other’s crotches. I almost thought Jessica would have suggested it. She kept making playful wise-cracks about making the ropes tighter on us. “I guess I will just hang around,” she quipped when they were finished binding us.

“You do that, Fartbox,” Danny kicked his sister in the butt playfully while she was on the ground. “I think I’ll snap a few pictures of you like this.”

“Go right ahead, I want something to prove that I had the balls to do this,” Jessica smiled and preened for him to suggest it wouldn’t bother her to be photographed – she wanted the attention. Danny didn’t take any pictures. I think she took some of the fun out of it for him.

That night we were left downstairs on the living room floor, bound like that by the television. Anyone could have come downstairs and done anything to us and we could not have fought back.

“Well, this is a fine mess you’ve gotten me into, Stanley,” Jessica teased and quoted, of all people, Laurel and Hardy.

“Didn’t you hear? I am Drip now,” I rolled my eyes playfully. I was mortified by the name but I had to admit that I also liked the idea of being someone else for a while. My spine crawled anytime the kids referred to me as mom while I was kneeling in the nude. It instantly reminded me that mothers should not be posing nude in front of their kids like that.

It was a humiliating nickname though and it referred to my juicy pussy. I was still soaked – I wanted to snuggle with Kendrick and fuck his brains out. Instead, I was bound with my daughter with our faces so close we almost kissed when we spoke.

We whispered back and forth about how things had gone. She told me that she hadn’t expected Dad to be as strict and that this was a good opportunity to flex her acting chops. Jessica admitted she wasn’t really a sex-hound. “I never even put out for my boyfriends. I mean I sucked their dicks and gave them handies but I wouldn’t give up my pussy – anal was completely out of the question. I guess we’ll see what Danny makes me do at school tomorrow,” she sounded like she was looking forward to being tested on her limits.

I asked her what was on my mind. “Why didn’t you complain when everyone started calling you Fartbox? It’s as demeaning as them calling me Drip. I don’t have a choice but you? If you wanted to, you could just refuse to accept that name, yet you didn’t. I don’t get it, Jess,” I admitted.

“Would it have been better if they called me Lard Ass or Cum Pig? They can call me anything they like. As long as they don’t call me late for dinner,” she quipped.

“So you’re saying it’s not even a little embarrassing to you?”

“Nope. It would only be embarrassing if I chose to let it be. What sort of actress would I be if everything embarrassed me? Anyway, they expect to see a slut and I can give them that. It’s fun and I love it.”

“Not for me,” I replied. I think I was looking for sympathy. Jessica didn’t bite.

“What’s more important here is why you think you have no choice, mom. No one’s holding a gun to your head or your stringy little tits to make you do any of this. You look like you’re getting ready to complain anytime someone looks at you yet your clit starts sticking out like a miniature dick and your nipples look like they could cut glass. No, the REAL question is why don’t you just admit you love it that everyone calls you Drip? The more you’re humiliated, the hornier it makes you. Everyone can see it but you.”

“That’s not true!” I shot back, defending my secret fantasy. “I lost a bet and it led to me being no better than an actual dog to this family and with no end in sight now. My own daughter has given my husband carte blanche to mess with her. Where does that leave me? You’re young and beautiful. I can’t compete with that. I either accept what’s happened or I get kicked to the curb.”

“Whah, whah, wah, Drip! You’re using that as an excuse and you know it. Dad’s never going to kick you to the curb. He’s head over heels in love with you. He shows it every opportunity he gets. He TOLD you how much he loves you. He practically had sex on the back patio with you. Maybe he likes half empty udders and a cellulite ass more than youthful, pert tits and a tight butt? Whatever it is, you COULD simply put a stop to this yourself, any time you want.”

“Even if I could, which I can’t, it’s too late now. No one would respect me as a mother after what they’ve seen me do,” I said, grateful that the direction of our conversation had changed. I really didn’t want my daughter probing further into my motivation for allowing family members to embarrass me.

“I already told dad a month. I said I’d do this gig for a month and we’d see where we were at, after that,” she started. “If you can make it a month, you win. If you bail, I win. Once the month is up, all you have to do is assert yourself and everyone will get the idea pretty damned quick. The question is, what do I get when I win? I mean right now you think you have no choice, for whatever reason. That’ll wear off. Unless you’re hiding something from me other than getting off on humiliation?”

“I’m not hiding anything, FART BOX,” I replied, stressing the name the family had begun to use for my daughter, since she’d called me Drip. I was a little angry that she kept insisting I got off on humiliation, too. “Okay, I admit that maybe sometimes, when I’m already worked up, that someone could say something or do something that embarrasses me and it feels sexy too. Satisfied?”

“So you’re saying the whole reason you’re doing this is because you sometimes feel sexy? Hell no! There’s GOT to be more to it than that. Either dad’s forcing you, which I don’t believe for a moment, or this makes you a hell of a lot hotter than just a little ‘sexy’, Drip.”

Jessica was getting dangerously close to making me either admit my most secret fantasy or lie and blame her father. I just wanted her to drop it. Maybe I could use her offer of a bet to turn this conversation around? Kendrick had said no bets without his approval. Yet he’d clearly agreed to Jessica’s term of a month. Maybe he’d agree to a bet where the winner lasted a whole month? That way I could keep doing this and win at the same time. I’d still want to make it so that my daughter would want to quit early, though. What would make her want to quit? What if she had to bow and scrape for her own brother? That’d get old fast for her, I was sure.

“Okay, then put your money where your mouth is. Or maybe that should be, put your mouth where your morals are. I really am just doing this because I lost a bet. If I decide I can’t take anymore and demand things go back the way they were, you win and things will go back to the way they were but with subtle changes. I’ll talk to your father. I’ll make him see that you should be treated as an adult.”

“And what exactly does that mean?”

“That means you’ll be able to come and go as you please, participate or ignore family events, have boys over for the night, even drink and smoke if you want. Everything on your terms plus a weekly allowance that cannot be taken away.”

“Dad would never agree to that, Drip.”

“If things went back to normal in every other respect, your father would let me have my way. He just has to agree to the bet to begin with,” I assured my daughter.

“Not good enough, even if you can sell that idea to dad. I want you as MY do-bitch too. For another whole month, not just the week we agreed on before. And dad has to agree to all of it. He already took that away from me on a technicality once. I want to hear him agree this time. So what happens if I lose?”

“If you make it the whole month and I don’t, then I get to be a normal mom again for the rest of the time you’re serving out your month as a cum receptacle?” I asked for clarification before I went into what I’d get if I won. I was in two minds about the offer. I could quit anytime if I could bring myself to defy Kendrick and then sit back, waiting for Jessica to either finish the month or admit defeat too. If she won, I’d be firmly under her thumb the minute our first month was up.

“We’d still have bets, but nothing that involves the family while I’m in service if you quit first. Fair?” She then reiterated her request to know what I’d want if I made it the whole month, causing her to in a way, lose by default. That was really the most attractive part of the bet to me. If she made it the whole month, I’d have to let her have the run of the house, but I could temper that win with obligations, too.

“A month of service to me, just like you want one FROM me if you win and I lose.”

“So let me get this straight. If I quit before the month is up, I have to be your do-bitch. If I make it the whole month, I have to be your do-bitch. What’s in it for me then?”

“You only have to be my do-bitch if we both make it the whole month. Tell you what. If we DO both make it a month, you’re completely released from any obligation to me AND I ask your father to get you a real agent. A good one. A reputable one. Someone who’ll get you into popular, actual Hollywood movies rather than us doing what we’ve been doing. You’re good enough that any good agent worth his salt will see it.”

It was hard to fall asleep bound in rope. I couldn’t even roll over to sleep on my other side. I was so excited about the bet and the possibilities. Jessica had agreed to my terms and now all I had to do was get Ken to agree to the bet itself. You always hear about families that live wild lifestyles – but I thought we were one of the normal/boring ones.

That morning I brought this up with Kendrick and he thought it was a fantastic idea. “I had intended to review your performance in about three weeks anyway. I don’t like the idea of you two making bets without me though,” he insisted.

“I didn’t Sir. We are suggesting we be permitted to make this bet,” I said as I sucked his dick. He had taken me upstairs to “inspect me” before Jess and I started making breakfast. I was thankful to get to suck his dick even if it meant no orgasms for me. Again.

Which reminds me, I never did cover the important event from Sunday. It’s funny what can jog my memory sometimes. Thinking about not getting an orgasm reminded me of why that was memorable.There isn’t really much to tell except that Sunday was the day I typed up the rules.

Kendrick wanted a nice copy of the rules for the fridge so that they could be referred to at any time. Kristina complained that nobody ‘wrote’ anything anymore because writing can be difficult to read. Ken nodded his agreement before amending his command to have me type the rules.

“Drip likes a challenge. Why not make it challenging?” Kristina suggested innocently enough.

“What are you thinking, Krissy?” he asked, happy to encourage his youngest daughter.

“Make her use her nose on the keyboard instead of just plain typing?” she asked, saying that she’d watched a YouTube video of a parrot who typed on a laptop. Kristina loves watching all sorts of animal videos.

“What, like tie her hands up so she can’t cheat or something?” Ken clarified.

“Well I wasn’t thinking that exactly but sure?”

Kristina had no idea of the pandora’s box she had opened with her agreement to add ropes and bondage to the home with her seemingly innocent suggestion.

“If it’s going to be a challenge, then why mess with the computer?” Christian inserted himself into the conversation. “There’s a really old word processor in the back of the garage. It’s got big old keys and everything. A real antique, older than mom ... ahh, Drip.”

“You mean your grandma’s typewriter?”

“YEAH! I can bring it in and set it up!”

That’s exactly what he did. Ken went with him to find some rope, saying he had just the thing.

So I spent the whole day typing with my nose. It’s harder than it sounds. Typewriters aren’t anything like computer keyboards other than the layout. Each key goes down and down and down before it bottoms out, which causes a letter to appear directly on the piece of paper that’s fed into it. Like a word processor and printer combined, except that if you make a mistake, you can’t erase it. I made plenty.

Luckily, Danny had the first watch. He wanted to see me do it as much as Kristina, Christian and Kendrick and after a glance at his dad, he started to set the rules. Rule one. No mistakes. Rule two, NO mistakes. He let me off easy the first couple of times, satisfied with Kristina’s giggles when I’d aim for a certain key and hit something else. She giggled at me going cross eyed trying to focus on a single key then crack up when I hit something else anyway. Her laughter made ME laugh, which only made my job even harder. Danny was amused too, but he took things just a little more seriously with a slap to the back of the head after my third mistake. We had a whole ream of paper, but Danny told me I’d better not use it all after the first six sheets each had a single, misspelled word on them.