Chapter 24

The next morning my entire family was outside in the yard lined up in a row in the squatting position. This was a morning ritual we had performed as a family for the last two weeks. It was the girl’s idea that we all come outside and line up this way. I think they dared each other into it and Freddy came along because everyone else was doing it.

My husband didn’t want to be out there with us – but the girls insisted and he does whatever they tell him.I think he always did even before this new arrangement. They just never told him to do anything quite like this.

We were all squatting and shitting at the same time and trying to keep our balance as we bent our knees and kept our hands behind our heads.

The girls make new rules almost daily. That is to be expected for someone on a journey of discovery when they’re trying to figure it all out in real-time. They make frequent adjustments and tweaks to the existing body of rules. They don’t usually revisit rules and remove any old ones. They usually just layer new ones on top of old ones.

Take, for example, this morning’s ritual. It began with the girls deciding to take my husband and me outside to shit on the lawn. The girls thought it would be fun to see what it felt like to take a shit on the lawn. They did it and decided it wasn’t so bad. They told Freddy that everyone was going to line up in the morning and do it this way from now on.

Freddy generally asks a lot of questions about why we do things, but he seldom questions authority. He went along with his sisters’ rules because they were the new rule-makers. However, last night he had tested the limits and boundaries of those rules by finger fucking Athena in front of a crowd of strangers. I think he meant well. It wasn’t my place to question what Athena and Myra had decided – but I was definitely uncomfortable when I heard about it.

It had given Athena and Myra a lot to talk about. They talked all night about what happened in whispered tones. They are careful not to involve their father and me in their decisions. They don’t want us to influence them with words like “Well, if you are asking my opinion, here is what I would do.”

I respect that – tremendously. In fact, even knowing I have less than a week to decide if I want them as Mistresses who own me, I was feeling pretty confident that I really did. The family was getting along and there was order.

I didn’t have strange urges to run off and join a whore circus, popping out of a clown car naked with 60 other bimbos to ride dick-shaped tricycles. That’s a little hyperbole, of course – but had such a place existed, I might have tried it out for a week.

I was well behaved, but I didn’t feel like a zombie or a robot. I felt appreciated and yet not respected or placed on a pedestal. My pussy was puffy and sore. I felt like I broken my asshole. My throat muscles had been torn, and I was speaking with a rasp this morning from deep throating so many dicks. I had the words “CUM DUMP” written like a tramp stamp in red mark and ANAL SLUT written across my ass cheeks. I was still crapping out pieces of Velveeta cheese that had congealed inside of me.

I wasn’t so sure that my husband shared my confidence in the girls. I think he was looking forward to a weekend with Francine (my mother). My womanly instinct told me he was jealous of his son. He had heard about the epic level finger banging last night after the girls walked out the last customer and told him to clean the living room.

Freddy was bright, happy and ready for a new day like he often was. He didn’t seem to process that he had created an existential crisis of sorts within the girl’s leadership structure. It had always been the two of them as partners in crime. They had each other’s backs, and they often thought along the same lines. They had complementary skills that made them an effective team. They were generally fearless about trying new things.

That is why it made perfect sense to them to extend the leadership to their brother. He was, after all, as entitled to own me as they were – if you consider me property.

His reasoning had been sound. The girls had planned to keep me as I am through college and I assumed even after they graduated. He didn’t want to be cut off from me and his dad. The girls felt we were a family before anything else – and so they had offered Freddy a partnership.

It wasn’t an equal partnership. The girls often see Freddy like I do – a goofy, nerdy, whiz when it comes to math and puzzles but an absolute dufus when it comes to common sense, hand-eye-coordination (other than video games), and social interaction.

We thought he couldn’t be trusted to wake himself up for school and remember to comb his hair or coordinate his clothes. The girls had been doing this for him for so long that he simply never had to try and do it for himself. Yet he had been doing it just fine since they started letting him handle it himself.

Today was a school holiday or teacher’s planning day. The girls didn’t tell me which. I certainly wasn’t going to undermine them and ask to double check the school website. The thought had occurred to me they could have just TOLD me school was closed and not gone.

I had surrendered my authority to them though. Just as I would have when they reached a certain age to start their own life. A parent of a 22 year old can’t tell their kid to go to school, brush their teeth and clean their room anymore. I simply trusted them to do the right thing a little earlier than most parents.

If they stayed home from school enough times when it was really open, they would face consequences. It would also be obvious they were doing it.

While they were shitting on the lawn next to me, the girls announced that after breakfast, there would be a family meeting to discuss some new rules. They left me outside to pick up the turds and scraps of toilet paper with my mouth and bag it up.

The girls don’t usually stay and watch me. They did at first, but they find what I do disgusting. They check the yard later to make sure there are no stray turd-apples that I missed. They went inside to set up the new funnel and eat breakfast.

That morning my husband and I knelt side by side next to the new wrought iron stand that my daughters bought on Amazon with the money I earned, whoring. It had been delivered here this morning along with two funnels. They shoved them down our throats.

Sandy nearly choked and gagged on the funnel he had and I had no idea what the girls had fed him. I had a combination of apple juice and piss – I can always tell when they cut it with apple juice. It tastes so much better.

The girls ate in somber silence on their hands and knees out of dog bowls. I think they had dry waffles cut up into bite sized squares this morning. Freddy sat on his butt and ate his waffle with his fingers.

“I am sorry Miss Athena if I did something wrong,” Freddy apologized. He could tell there was something wrong. The girls were ordinarily full of ideas and a day off from school would probably mean a lot of opportunities for training. I was surprised they didn’t schedule a day shift for our little bordello operation.

“No need to apologize, Mister Freddy. Let’s discuss it after breakfast,” Athena replied rather dryly.

Getting the funnel out of Sandy’s mouth was difficult. It had lodged down his throat, and pulling it out caused him to wretch and milk spilled down his bare chest. He looked angry – he hated to get dirty. The girls told him he could go outside and wash off with the garden hose.

This funnel was a lot more extreme than the one I used in the Fuck Room. It definitely wasn’t originally intended to go down a human’s gullet. The girls seemed disappointed that their new toy was more trouble than it was worth when piss spilled all over my hair and face. I chuckled – it was just my luck.

The girls gave me three minutes to wash off outside.

I waved at old Mr. Johnson, who was watching me and my husband share a garden hose in the nude as we rushed to clean ourselves off.

“How are you feeling about this? Like with the girls and Freddy? Really?” Sandy asked me quite seriously when we were alone.

“We hit some sort of a bump in the road last night. I am sure whatever it was, the girls will come to some consensus on how to deal with it. I don’t doubt it’ll be a solution that works for them and it’ll just be another adjustment for us, Sandy.”

“I don’t like that name. It sounds like a girl’s name,” he added.

“I think that was the point. They wanted a name that could be a man’s name or a woman’s name,” I smiled at him as I hogged the water to wash my tits down. There would be no chance I could wash the dirty words that someone had written on me in magic marker the night before, from my legs.

Randy used to glue big pastel letters on my forehead to spell out CUNT, STUPID, FUCK, and he would make me look at myself in the mirror and accept what I was. There was a part of me who felt that I couldn’t wash off the words CUM DUMP and ANAL SLUT because they were the truth.

I chuckled imagining trying to explain what they said to Mr. Johnson.

“Morning! Looks like a nice day!” Mr. Johnson emerged from the hedges as if I had summoned him by simply thinking about the nosy old codger.

I waved back at him and told him it was a great day. What else could I do? My husband is more timid. He didn’t say anything and just froze.

“Is that a new swimsuit you got on there? What does it say?” If he could see there were words written on me – he knew exactly what they said. I was blushing and at the same time, giggling. The new rules from my daughters was that I had to invite him over and let him get handsy.

“Want to come over and check it out?” I waved him over. I am sure his hedge didn’t need any more watering. “My suit is skintight and latex! I am trying to figure out what is written on the back? I didn’t notice that. Jasper didn’t wear his contacts so he can’t read it. Would you mind helping me figure it out?”

I pretended to be a happy dumb bimbo – although it wasn’t much of a stretch lately. It was fun to mess with Mr. Johnson and he seemed to like it when we made up outrageous lies.

Mr. Johnson checked over his shoulder with a quickness. I thought he was going to come over, but he apparently saw his wife, dropped the garden hose and ran toward the house.

“Pity! Well, maybe later when you have more time!” I waved after him.
“What are you trying to do? Get the H.O.A breathing down our necks?”

I mentioned we didn’t have a full privacy fence. We had a waist-high fence that butted up to our yard, but it belonged to someone else. There were at least two other houses that could easily see into our backyard.

Our back yard is dominated by a single shade tree in the center, and that is where we were standing. We could have been seen by anyone in their yard, and school was out today.

“He’s been our neighbor for twelve years,” Sandy questioned my judgment for egging him on. It was nearly unthinkable for him to question me even before we surrendered authority to our first Master.

He knew full well that Mr. Johnson was a peeping tom. He had been even before I ever began practicing domestic discipline at home.

“Mr. Johnson is a harmless old man who likes watching me and the girls. He isn’t going to call the cops or the H.O.A. The girls made a rule last night that I HAVE to be nice to him and invite him over – and if he wants to play grab-ass with me, he can. Why are you getting so bent out of shape?”

“I am not getting bent out of shape,” Sandy whispered in what I could only assume was his passive-aggressive demanding whisper. “The girls made a rule YESTERDAY that puts us at risk of ruining a relationship with a long time neighbor and getting arrested for lewd behavior. They are in there today in our living room making up NEW rules. They don’t know what rule they want today, but if you don’t like it, just wait until tomorrow!”

He sounded panicked. I could relate to that. I’d started to get cold feet when it started to look like things were working out with Master Randy and we’d finally move to a permanent relationship. I didn’t feel that way about the girls, but obviously, he was apprehensive.

I could have slapped his sweet little chipmunk cheeks and went back inside the house – case closed. I haven’t been feeling as domineering or even entitled to slap someone else silly for bothering me. I reasoned with him instead.

“First of all, get something straight. It is not OUR living room any longer. It is their living room, and when it goes permanent, that will be how it is for the rest of our lives. They will not abandon us, so you will always have some roof over your head. The only difference is you can’t say you own it. We just live there now. The rules change. The girls adapt. That means they aren’t stuck in their ways,” I replied to him. I wasn’t used to my husband being agitated.

“Well, it’s still our house until we sign the papers,” he grumbled.

“You are going to sign the papers, aren’t you? We have a little over a week left to make the decision,” I felt I had already made mine. Mr. Johnson stood ten feet away and stared at us while we whisper-argued in front of him.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t sign the papers. If you think that it is best, I will go along with it, but I am just asking that you reconsider. The girls change the rules because they don’t know what they are doing. They throw things against the wall and hope something sticks. Mrs. Walker has been doing this for fifty years. Her rules are all well established. She has them written out in needlepoint - in frames throughout her house. I could talk to her about you and I going there together on weekends!”

I shuddered at the thought of my mother even knowing what I have become. I wouldn’t even call the feeling I was having about her, ‘humiliation’. It was something magnified 100X and mixed with revulsion. My mother believed in the absolute superiority of women over men. She had shown me how to be a pro-domme and I was a pretty damn good one when I was little older than Myra is now. I probably would not have been ready to handle a 24/7 situation like the one Myra and Athena are in – or even a 1:1 relationship.

I could just picture my mother’s stern eyes as she judged me to be an unfit mother and a worthless whore. She would probably never forgive me for giving up my power in the household willingly.

I doubted she would understand my daughters’ methods either. They frequently behaved in a submissive manner. Their reasons ranged from keeping themselves humble to simply understanding how it feels to do it. I was impressed that they were willing to commit themselves to dominating me and literally change their entire lives around, to do it. They could be out on dates, roller skating, or whatever kids do these days. Instead they were home with me running the house like a business.

My mom was all about dignity and image. She would never have behaved like a submissive in front of a client. The girls think that it is the most respectful way they can be toward our guests. They don’t want to come across like spoiled little bitches who snap whips and clank chains and their methods have worked quite well.

My mom also would NEVER consider training a woman as a submissive. It would be as unthinkable as it was to me to be a submissive to a woman. I just didn’t think that was a good fit for me. I’ve come to discover that after seven months of watching me be tied up and degraded – the girls had a pretty good idea of why I kept coming back to it even though it was painful and difficult.

They’ve grown up with the female condition, and that gives them a perspective that most men don’t have. They know that they can easily cast a broad net and pull back a dick anytime they want - but they don’t. A man doesn’t have that sort of luxury. They know how manipulative, cruel, and wicked women can be to each other – especially ourselves. We self-sabotage and over-think.

Their rules have been different because they think like women and their goals for themselves and me have been different than that of a typical man. Men are usually direct and to the point (not like Sandy). Women tend to read between the lines and look for what something they heard REALLY means. We have a fundamental communication problem between men and women, and that is why so many of my past relationships with male masters had failed.

“Are you two cunts coming in or do you need me to hang you from that tree?” Myra shouted through the door angrily. Then she turned and smiled broadly at Mr. Johnson and waved sweetly before giving him a thumbs-up signal. “Mr. Johnson, that hedge is looking really good!”

We had no time to continue the discussion, and I was done talking about it anyway. I felt like my husband was just getting last minute jitters.

“Nice of you to join us,” Athena was standing in the living room talking to Freddy when we hustled inside – still dripping wet. “Inspection positions everyone,” Athena took the position herself and pointed to our spots in the semi-circle.

Myra bent over at the waist and grabbed her ankles. Freddy thought this was an amusing turn of events and grabbed his angles too – letting his hard dick flop between his knees.

My husband and I adopted inspection positions next to one another.

“In the future, all family meetings will be held while we’re all in one of the ten house positions,” Athena explained.

She saw Freddy had questions but she told him to hold them because she and Myra anticipated them. She looked at Myra to continue.

“The meeting can go over five minutes. The person who gets to decide the position will rotate. The position will be decided by first Athena, then me, then you,” she pointed to Freddy and left me and my husband out (obviously). There will be only one position per family meeting. If it goes over thirty minutes, the person who chose the position can decide to offer a one minute break or not – but it goes for everyone, even slaves. There will be no touching each other during the meetings – no distractions. Clear? Cool.”

“Last night, we made over 5,000 dollars,” Athena held up a stack of cash. I had no idea where they were keeping the money. I hoped they were being smart about it. “Miss Myra and I work our asses off to keep drinks full, talk to customers, keep order and make things run smoothly. Since we made you an owner yesterday, that means a third of this money is yours, Mister Freddy.”

Athena looked comfortable grabbing her wrists and looking up at him now that she wasn’t being ogled at by men and penetrated by his tiny, agile fingers. She was good looking and she knew it – and growing more confident in her skin every day.

Athena had been a gangly teenage girl before all of this began, she was more knees and elbows than she was tits and ass. After weeks of walking around Master Randy in the nude, I feel she started to get comfortable with her body being on display. In other words, it had been good for her.

Her confidence wasn’t the only thing that improved. She was polite, considerate, stood tall and didn’t slouch, and she was becoming a very effective leader.

I didn’t want to admit it to myself at the time, but she was also coming of age and accepting her own sexual desires. She had been sexually active before Randy ever moved in.

I am sure she messed around with boys (and sometimes girls). However, now that she was in charge with her sister Athena seemed to grow in her understanding of the things she enjoyed about sex. She embraced the weird and unusual fetish stuff – seemed to seek it out.

I felt sometimes she was training me to do things that she wanted to do. As an example, my daughters frequently made me put a dildo on a chair and fuck it over and over while they caned my ass. This type of training was frequently done out in the open.

The girls often ignored my pained expression and talked to one another as if I wasn’t even present. However, Athena asked Myra to make her do it to see how it felt. It wasn’t unusual for the girls to try the punishments and fetishes that I engaged in. However, she did it for a full hour and then seemed disappointed when it was all over. Myra told her that her hand was worn out.

Athena made me whip her bottom with the cane while she practiced with my dildo the next day for an hour. She never mentioned the training again – but I think she got off on it more than she realized.

I had worried I was the worst mom ever – and yet, Myra and Athena both had become stronger, more resilient and matured in ways I never imagined.

Myra grew a thick patch of hair over her pussy and wouldn’t shave it when she had to be naked around Master Randy. I knew she was sensitive about what others might say about her fat clit – now she was proud of it and called it her little dick.

(I can’t say her clit was bigger than her father’s cock but they were comparable in size)

Myra had matured as well, but I do not think she changed as much as Athena did.

“What we cannot have is chaos and disorder if we are going to keep doing this. There are only two of us doing the work of entertaining the guests while they wait, serving drinks and refreshments and coordinating the appointments. The guests sometimes wait for over an hour and it gets difficult for us to talk to them all and keep them amused. We’ve recently had a lot of walk-outs who say they will come back later and wont. We need a way to keep them amused temporarily without trying to talk 1:1 to each of them. That just isn’t feasible,” Athena said.

“So let me help!” Freddy interrupted.

“Oh you will, SIR!” Athena’s use of the word Sir sounded sarcastic. I saw Myra shoot her a glance. I wondered what the two girls had talked about before this meeting. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way but you can’t do what we do. Guests aren’t going to want you squatting naked in front of them, bringing them nachos and gin, or talking to them about video games.”