Chapter 30

Kristina had created a card-in-envelope system like they have at the Grammys. She did the honors, probably as a reward for agreeing to host up to seven women in her backyard while we acted like sluts. I knew it was was hard for her, being a natural feminist and all.

“And the winner is...” she paused dramatically while Danny made a drum roll sound. “JANE!”

There was much clapping and cat calling. Jane got attagirls from her friends and even Elizabeth looked smarmy that her mother was a bigger slut than the rest of us. It was nearly five minutes before Ken could get everyone calmed down again.

“Fuck!” I actually cussed out loud when Kristina announced Jane’s name. I had been so hoping to be able to present the loser to Kendrick. Because she won, the loser would be spending the week at Jane’s house, doing who-knows-what. I could now only hope the overall loser was Elizabeth. I didn’t want Fartbox to have to spend a week there.

What I didn’t expect was to hear Fartbox called as first runner up, and only by a small margin had she lost! Now I was nervous. There was no possible way Elizabeth had won more events than me, but in the moments before Kristina announced third place, I was mentally calculating my wins versus Elizabeth’s. So much had happened that I just couldn’t immediately do the calculations. I’m not a freaking computer, after all.

My jaw dropped when Elizabeth was announced as having gained third place over me by one point. I felt there had to have been a mistake and I found myself begging to see the whiteboard. Darryl called me a sore loser and dismissed my reaction as sour grapes.

He actually called me a two-bit whore who should be shortchanged for lack of effort. That really hurt. I had sucked the man’s cock and had him in my pussy. Worse was that Kendrick just laughed along with everyone else. I hated that my pussy began to gush again at Darryl’s horrid treatment of me.

They did show us all the whiteboard, though. Elizabeth had beaten me on points - especially bonus points, which was something I’d thought was only on that one pissing event where I’d popped out a turd. There was only a ten point spread too. Two more wins and I could have been the overall champion instead of the loser.

“C’mon, Drip, let’s get you home,” Jane said even as she was stepping into a skirt, then added, “bring me your leash. It’s clear to me that your strengths lie in you being on your hands and knees.”

“Aren’t you staying for dinner? I can order pizza,” Kendrick said, doing nothing to put a stop to Jane actually leaving with me. He actually seemed more interested in watching her boobs being squeezed into her top which had managed to dry although it was still filthy.

I had unshed tears in my eyes. I felt like I was being abandoned by Kendrick. He could have cried foul and refused to accept Kristina’s tabulations. He could have simply refused to let me go. He did neither of those things and instead had offered Jane a slice of cheesy pizza (but offered me none).

I think she would have happily eaten it while it was covered in cum – I know I would have.

Oh, I got ahead of myself again. Yes, Jane obviously stayed for dinner. But I missed the part where Ken had tormented me by seemingly coming to my rescue. I said I’d felt abandoned because Kendrick didn’t cry foul. But he DID make me think he was going to when he vetoed Jane’s order for me to immediately head to her home.

“I don’t think it’s right to take Drip away like that,” he said with a stony expression towards Jane. I could tell that Jane was surprised - like Ken was reneging on the consequence for the lost sex-Olympics.

“Your own daughter announced that I won and your wife lost, Kenny,” she stated equally as stony-faced. I was sure I was about to witness a battle of wills.

“I’m not arguing that fact, Jane. All I’m saying is that Drip’s going to be gone for a week. I’d like her to spend a little quality time with each of her kids if they want her to,” he said, a little smirk appearing to reveal that he’d only been messing with Jane. Jane immediately caught on.

My eyes went immediately to each of my children. It didn’t seem to me like any of them cared too much either way. They were all munching on pizza and it made me feel unloved.

It was like no one cared that I’d lost. Ron and Darryl had even left before the pizza arrived with neither of them bothering to say goodbye or thanking me for my efforts today. I slunk over to where my collar and leash had been discarded. The only one even paying attention to me seemed to be Jane. I’d assumed I wouldn’t get to spend the quality time Ken had suggested.

“Crawl, doggy,” Jane said, barely loud enough for me to hear over the noise everyone else was making while they ate and chatted.

I had to drop once again to all fours and I carried the collar and leash to Jane in my mouth, dropping it at her feet. She’d finally sat down to put her shoes back on.

“What do I need to bring with me ... Mistress?” I asked. I decided to call her mistress because I was, after all, to be her slave for a week.

“Just these,” she said, tapping the collar and leash with her foot.

“A toothbrush, a hairbrush? Shampoo and conditioner? Makeup? Anything else?” I asked, thinking she just hadn’t thought through her reply properly. I got a slap to the face that smarted, but surprised me more than anything.

“What part of N-O-T-H-I-N-G don’t you understand, dumbass!” She actually sounded quite scary when she was angry. “This is not a sleepover where we sit around in lingerie and talk about boys, you stupid cow. I had to fuck my own son and at least one total loser to win this thing and I own you for a week as a result. Now you’d better make that sacrifice worthwhile!”

I had no idea having sex with her son had been so difficult for Jane. I’d always thought of her as open to almost anything sex-related and had never heard Jane suggest any guy was a loser before either. I didn’t have any idea which man she considered to be one but I hoped she wasn’t referring to anyone in my family. I was afraid to ask in case she answered.

If there was one thing that would have made me uncharacteristically strike out like Jane was doing over a simple question, it would be knowing she thought of anyone in my family as a loser. I chose instead to believe she meant Darryl. If anyone was a loser, it was him. He certainly had no business thinking of himself as god’s gift to sluts.

These thoughts ran through my head in a flash but what came out my mouth next was clearly the best response. “Sorry Mistress!” I squeaked, lifting a hand to my cheek. Calling her mistress instead of Jane was automatic and the title seemed to immediately melt her anger.

I was about to spend a week separated from my husband and my family for the first time ever in nearly twenty years. Only in the last few weeks or so had I even spent any nights not in the same bed as Ken.

Now I may as well be on the other side of the world. There would be no looking up at dinner time and seeing Kendrick looking back at me, no taking him lunch, no passing the time with him in the evenings talking about inane things and simply enjoying being around him.

For a week I’d actually miss folding his clothes fresh out of the dryer, something I thought of as a chore until I imagined not being able to do it for a whole week. Then there were the children. Sounds of my happy home.

Laughter, excited chatter, things my family just naturally did together that made ours a unique family - even before all this began. The sheer magnitude of this consequence was beginning to hit home.

I crawled over to Kendrick and hugged his legs before easing my body up, until I was able to hold him and kiss his lips. I know, I know. I’d been told to crawl but if there was a consequence to ignoring that order by standing to kiss my own husband, then I was willing to deal with it.

This was my husband, but he’d somehow become even more than that. Kendrick had accepted a place as my master, even if only for a month and I’d screwed him out of a week of that month by losing the games. Now I was leaving him for a week.

“Does the next week still count towards the month?” I whispered to him, suddenly worried about shortchanging him. The deal had been that I’d serve him for a month in exchange for his blessings when it came to the next level of sex bets.

“I’ll make a decision about that in good time, Drip,” he said just as softly. “You don’t want me to answer you without giving the matter some proper thought, do you?”

“I do need to know, Master,” I insisted. “If it doesn’t count, then Fartbox will be done a week earlier than me,” I replied. I didn’t expect the hardness I saw in his eyes.

He didn’t say anything but now I know that it sounded like I was being selfish and childish. I hadn’t meant it to sound like I was jealous that Fartbox wouldn’t have to serve for the same length of time I did. I certainly wasn’t inferring he should tack on an extra week to my daughter’s service.

“Thank you for promising to give the matter serious consideration, Master,” I quickly amended my words. “Please look after the children,” I added, hoping he didn’t think it was an afterthought.

I immediately knew I’d screwed up again. I’d been trying to assure Ken I didn’t want the children to think I was abandoning them for a week. Kendrick took it as a personal insult. As if I was saying he needed to be reminded to look after the children.

“You haven’t been any sort of mother in weeks, cunt,” he said then added, “I don’t need to be reminded to do what comes naturally. Unlike you,” he scolded me. “Maybe this week will teach you something about yourself,” he said.

I’d really blown it this time. The way he stiffened up and not between his legs, told me this was going to be a short farewell. I had been trained to speak. To answer questions even when the answers embarrassed me. What I’d learned was that the more I spoke, the more I buried myself by saying things the wrong way. Now I was even angrier at myself than I felt Kendrick was with me.

“I love you, Master. I love our children too, all of you even more than I knew I could. These last weeks have been... “ I didn’t have a way to express how these last weeks had compared to my life as Carrie. There WAS no comparison. I just couldn’t put into words what I was trying to express and if I had, they would probably come out wrong too, I knew.

“I know, Drip,” Kendrick replied, looking down at me. I had wanted to hear him say he loved me too but he didn’t. That was to be my punishment for angering him. I was left imagining a week without hearing him tell me that.

Jane had watched our interaction and saw Kendrick stiffen. She came to the rescue, but sort of draped herself over Ken as if staking a claim to him. It felt more like she was rescuing HIM than me.

“James. Be a sweetheart and run Drip over the back fence, will you? I’ll be around in the car shortly,” she said as if dismissing me from her - and Kendrick’s, attention.

James shrugged and agreed.

“Hold on, I want to spend some time with her first,” Chris said. I almost broke down in tears. My son was demanding to spend quality time with me. In retrospect, it was both a wonderful sentiment and the introduction to a whole extra level of subjugation.

“Well in that case, why don’t we take this inside? It might be nice to spend a little quality time with Jane and her friends anyway. We’ve really not had too much of a chance to just socialize but the mosquitoes will be out in full force within the next few hours.”

“You know what? You’re right, Kenny. Every time we’ve met, the planning for today has dominated all discussion. It’d be nice to get to know you a little,” Jane agreed. “Liz, help Drip and Fartbox clean up out here. I won so there’s got to be a consequence for you of some sort. Help clean up out here and we’ll call it even.”

“Lazy bitch,” Elizabeth muttered but didn’t otherwise complain.

“We’ll help too,” Tiffany said, volunteering herself and her friends.

James went inside with Chris, probably thinking he’d somehow get roped into helping too. With all the helping hands, the yard was cleaned up in just a few minutes, leaving me ‘free’ to get with my son. That’s when things stepped up to the next level.

I do not want you to think that everything I did happened at home – most of it was in the safety and sanctity of our house. I didn’t work and other than shopping or occasionally picking the kids up from school I rarely left the house. I am and always was a homebody - so that was perfectly fine with me.

Kendrick worked from home and one reason our sex life probably once felt like a chore and had waned was that we simply saw too much of each other. The new “arrangement” – whether you want to call it sexual slavery, sex-bets, or punishment had electrified our sex life – mostly mine.

I’d begun spending more of my days chained up, masturbating or serving in some capacity as a house cleaning sex-slave but I was almost always home. I liked it that way – I felt safe there.

The times I left were increasingly supervised by other members of the family. It was to the point that I would not think of leaving without someone coming with me. The shopping wasn’t going to do itself and I knew we were running low on food in the pantry, so I thought maybe it’d be nice for Chris and I to spend our last little bit of time together for a week, doing something that would benefit everyone.

I also didn’t want to bother Kendrick because he was entertaining. So then I found Chris in his room with James, I asked if he would like to come with me to the store so I could restock the pantry. I didn’t make it obvious that I felt I HAD to be supervised when I left the house – it was just starting to become understood that this was the way things had to be from now on and it’d give Chris and I some alone time
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“Nah, that’s boring. I want to go for a bike ride instead,” Chris refused my request to go to the store outright.

“I don’t have a bike, Sir” I answered as I finished sucking his cock and licking my lips. I forgot to mention I was down on my knees looking up at him while James sat at my son’s computer, ignoring us.

Even though James had been fully involved today, it felt exceedingly naughty to be sucking my son’s cock in the same room as his friend when there wasn’t a bet to be won. James seemed fine with it, though.

“That’s okay, you can run behind me. Get dressed,” Chris wiped the excess spunk from his cock in my hair. I was fit but I wasn’t used to running – I didn’t have any jogging clothes.

“What should I wear, Sir?” I shouldn’t have asked. He had not explicitly told me to wear anything so I could have put on something appropriate for running - sneakers perhaps. I was so used to being naked around the house that I hadn’t worn clothes of any kind for days.

“Something sexy,” Chris shrugged as if he didn’t care.

“I’ll have to go into your father’s room,” I reminded him. It used to be my room too but now it was off limits to me.

“That’s fine but if he wants to fuck you while you’re there, please make it quick. I’ve got other stuff to do too,” my son waved me off.

I walked down the hallway and knocked on the open door of my former bedroom. Kendrick was inside, giving a tour of the house to Jane and co. Dianne was fascinated by my butt plug collection, picking each up, weighing it in her hands and getting a feel for the size of each by using her fingers to measure girth.

I apologized for interrupting and explained that I needed to get dressed. He quickly instructed me to wear a short mini-skirt, a half-top and some heels. I kept trying to tell him that Chris wanted me to run after his bike and the heels would never work to keep up.

Kendrick was only half-paying attention to me and insisted that he was actually being generous. “This is quite a bit more than Danny lets your daughter wear to school. You should be thanking me, Slut!”

“Thank you Master,” I swallowed and quickly went to Fartbox’s room to collect the items Ken had authorized. I admit I then spent a moment admiring myself in Fartbox’s full length mirror. Eating table scraps and practicing sucking cock every day had thinned my fat ass and firmed up my flabby tits. Not enough to make them perfect, but I certainly looked presentable as a first-class whore.

It dawned on me we were going outside in my NEIGHBORHOOD where people would know me and I’d never live down how I was about to be dressed. I climbed into the outfit Ken had described and reviewed my appearance again.

“Stop gawking at yourself and go have fun with Chris!” Ken laughed as he stepped into Fartbox’s room, followed by Jane and her three friends. “Just think of this as what you’d do if you lost one of your precious sex-bets before I put my foot down and fixed our marriage,” Kendrick chuckled at my dismay.

The mini-skirt rode up in the back. If I pulled it down to cover the bottom of my butt cheeks then it rode up in the front. The half-top showed some of my underboob as I stood there and my nipples poked through the sheer material – it was little more than a white tank top that had been cut-down. I don’t know if I mentioned it but at this point any “mom clothes” I had were locked away so that all I had access to was these kinds of clothes anyway.

I wondered what they would say if my mom and dad pulled up in the drive-way and saw me dressed like this. I could never explain myself to them! I wondered if they would understand that my husband was “fixing” our marriage by turning me into the perfect slutty hot-wife.

“Is this acceptable, Sir?” I presented myself to Chris a minute later. He looked me over with a bemused expression. He lifted my skirt up in the back so that my buttcrack was slightly visible and inspected the buttplug I was wearing. “Change it to this one,” he pointed to a new one that was a recent gift.

“You just picked this one out for me,” I reminded my son as I dutifully removed the standard latex plug from my ass and cleaned it with my mouth. I wasn’t arguing – just reminding him that I was wearing the one he chose for me from his own new collection.

“Yeah, now I want to see this new one,” he said.

We have Amazon prime and lately, new packages would arrive daily for us. I remember opening this one at Christian’s request and seeing it labelled “Oxballs bore hollow butt plug with stopper”. At the time, I didn’t think much about it. Kendrick and Christian had amassed quite a collection of sex-toys over the last few weeks, and it didn’t seem that unique at the time.

Now that I held the red plug in my hand I realized how different it was. It was heavy and fat – bigger than most of the plugs in the house. It was bigger than my son’s closed fist. I knew because he was fisting me pretty regularly now. The plug was ridged like a screw and I had to spit on it and really work it into my ass.

“C’mon mom, hurry up!” Chris watched as I struggled to pack the plug into my ass.

“Yes Sir, sorry! I am trying!” I groaned as my nipples expanded and stiffened from the intense pressure of packing my asshole in front of my son.

I had only a few minutes to learn to walk with the new plug in my ass. It felt like it was pushing against the bottom of my intestines. I felt like someone trying to walk with an entire corn cob up their ass - I had no idea how I was going to run but Chris expected me to keep up with him.

I followed him to the garage and he got on his 10-speed. It was a hand-me-down from Jessica and was painted pink. “I used to be humiliated having to ride a girl’s bike. I won’t feel so bad if you have to run behind me,” Chris chuckled as he opened the garage and pedaled down the drive-way.

“Sir Chris, wait up!” I begged but Chris didn’t acknowledge me. I felt silly saying “Sir” out of the house but I called after him so that he wouldn’t leave me behind.

As luck would have it our neighbor Mr. Johnson was giving his bush a late afternoon watering. He heard me call my son Sir and watched as I struggled to waddle quickly down the driveway after him in an outrageously whore-like get up.

Chris slowed down and seemed annoyed. “Take the shoes off,” he pointed to my feet. “Yes Sir,” I whispered quietly as I knelt to remove my shoes.

“Nope, start over,” Chris insisted. In the house, I was expected to bend at the waist – so that my entire ass was on display. “I want to hear you acknowledge me and bend over the way you have been taught. Just because the sex Olympics are over, you don’t get to just ignore what you’ve spent so much time learning.”

“Yes, Sir,” I said a little louder. I knew Mr. Johnson could hear me. He could also see my bare-ass with the red-black rubber stopper plug between my cheeks when I bent over to remove my shoes. Chris wasn’t done with me. He wanted me to carry them by the strap with my mouth.

I felt like he was testing me to see at what point I would re-exert parental authority and tell him that enough was enough. “Yes, Sir,” I bit down on the leather straps of the impossibly high heels and prepared myself to run bare-foot after my son while he rode his bike.

I tried not to look at people staring at me as I ran down my street. People in cars honked and every now and then someone yelled something at me – usually calling me a slut. Most people just stared in shock that a grown woman would be dressed that way – with her shoes dangling from her mouth.

There is a small park in our housing subdivision about two blocks away. Chris took me there and I was thankful for the rest. I asked if I could remove the shoes from my mouth but he told me that I couldn’t because he could understand me quite clearly. I had learned to talk with various (dicks and dildos) in my mouth and I suppose practice made perfect.

We walked around the park and I felt like a total pervert. There were still kids playing at the playground. I wasn’t as worried about what they would think since they were engrossed in the swings and merry-go-round. I was more concerned at the wicked glances and derisive looks from the moms who instantly noticed me. They looked at me like I was a total pariah. I wanted to call out and say “I was once a house-wife like you! I am ONE of you!”

Instead, I hung my head in shame and continued to follow my son as he walked around the park. I kept a few paces behind him at first. He told me to walk in front of him so that he could watch me wiggle my perky ass. He insisted that I sashay like a total slut and wiggle my butt “like Jessica does at school”

I had no idea what she did at school – or how she got away with that behavior. I felt even more humiliated as I wiggled my bottom playfully for my son – but his giggles of amusement actually encouraged me.

“You got that laughy-taffy,” he said. I didn’t get the reference he was making but it sounded like he approved of how I shook my ass-cheeks when I walked and that he meant it as a compliment.

We passed an old man feeding some pigeons. He wasn’t really that much older than me – maybe ten or fifteen years. He seemed lonely and sad. Chris noticed and took pity on him.

“He looks sad,” Chris observed and whispered that I should go up and offer to suck his cock.

“What? Here?” I swallowed.

Chris slapped my bottom and reminded me to call him Sir. “No, you can take him to the woods nearby or to the bathroom,” Chris pointed to a copse of trees he considered to be “woods” and then to the public restrooms. He seemed to think I was asking if I should suck his dick right out in public at the park bench. I didn’t think that was even on the table.

“Dad wants you to be a great hot wife. It will be good practice and he looks like he is sad – you’ll make his day.” He let me put my shoes back on to do this – but he wasn’t going to let me out of it.

I looked at Chris in disbelief that he’d dare to tell me to do something like this – but I didn’t argue. “What if he tells me no?” I asked as I bent at the waist to put my shoes on.

“Then I’ll tie you naked to one of those trees for an hour,” Chris held up a pair of handcuffs he had brought with him in his shorts. “That should be proper motivation so that you ask him nicely,” my son seemed satisfied with his request.

“Hello Sir, may I sit down,” I approached the older man and introduced myself. I almost called myself Drip but I managed to say that my name was Carrie. It still felt weird hearing it – like the name was a lie.

“I am Eduardo,” he introduced himself and went back to feeding the pigeons. “You want some bread?” he offered me a slice of bread to feed the birds.

“No thanks,” I answered abruptly. I was nervous and worried he’d reject me. I wondered what his story was – why he was at the park today. “Do you come here often?” I asked awkwardly.

“Are you trying to pick me up?” Eduardo joked with a little smile. My question had been an old stereotypical pick up line people used to use in bars before all the dating apps replaced them.

“Kind of yes, I’d like to suck your cock,” I blurted out my request nervously and quickly added, “if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t have any money,” Eduardo looked disappointed when he saw I wasn’t joking and he seemed to regard me as an annoying prostitute that was trying to grift him.

“No charge of course. I’d just like the practice,” I admitted like his assessment of me was partially true.

“Why me?” Eduardo didn’t seem convinced that I was genuinely not going to ask him for money at the end of my services.

“Why not you? Does your cock work, Sir?” I smiled sweetly. I put my hand on his lap and felt for his dick. It wasn’t hard but it didn’t take long for it to stir.

Eduardo looked around as if checking for a hidden camera. “They say if something is too good to be true it usually is,” he added reluctantly.

“I am flattered you think I am too good to be true, Sir” I called him Sir – it flowed naturally out of my mouth.

“Yeah, I come to this park pretty regularly and women never walk up and proposition people for sex – either you are a cop or a prostitute.”

“I am neither, Sir,” I admitted sheepishly.

“Then why is that kid watching so intently?” he pointed out that Chris was trying to observe us and making a poor attempt at being discreet. He was walking past a closed snack stand and staring at us.

“That is my son, Sir,” I admitted – blushing intently.

The man looked horrified that I would proposition him with my son so close by. He assumed I was some wicked evil woman and a bad mother – which I probably was. I could have made up some story about being a bored housewife or even having lost a dare.

There are some people who just cannot accept getting lucky. I was kind of like that once too, so I could almost see his thought processes. This man acted like he’d just watched me steal money then offer it to him.

“I think you should go, miss,” he insisted then he himself got up and moved without bothering to excuse himself. His reaction only made me even more humiliated.

I wanted to call out an apology and assure him he had the wrong idea but I felt too ashamed of myself to be able to. About then, I heard some boys shout, “Cee!”

That’s what a few of Christian’s friends sometimes called him when they called the house after he didn’t answer his cell phone. Chris often allowed his cell phone battery to die so his friends just automatically dialled the house number when they couldn’t reach him on his own phone.

Chris had been watching me and I saw his expression of disappointment but when we both heard his nickname called, we both looked to see who’d called out. Two of Christians friends had come to the park on their bikes. Christian’s expression changed immediately and he waved to the boys then motioned me to join him.

Christian’s friends easily beat me to Chris so they were already chatting when I sashayed up. As I drew nearer, I heard the word ‘slut’ from one of them in relation to them asking Chris something. It turned out his friends recognised me.

“Hey Drip, the guys want to know if you’re DTF,” he wondered out loud as if he was wondering if I needed a drink. I’d only very recently learned what those three little words meant, myself. I had no idea Chris already knew. My cheeks burned scarlet! He’d just asked if I was ‘down to fuck’ right in front of his friends!

It seemed the friends had seen me first and then Chris. They’d intended to give him a little friendly teasing about being at the park with his mom, only Chris had turned the tables on them by bluntly asking to my face if I’d mind taking care of his buddies.

Based on the reactions of the pair, I immediately knew they were the two who’d refused to come inside our house days or years earlier. My face burned even more.

I know now that if I’d just as casually said, ‘sure’ or even ‘no’, it would have put me in control but at the time, all I could do was blush harder and nod a little before managing to reply, “if it’s okay with you, Sir.”