Chapter 4

“Wipe my filthy cum-encrusted ass, Jasper” I demanded. I stood up and pulled my ass cheeks apart as wide as they would go. My husband dutifully put my butt plug on the counter and sniffed my fragrant ass. He loves booty-sweat, and he is incredibly thorough when he licks my crack. He gets in every little crevice of my pucker and does an outstanding overall job of cleaning my whole backside. In exchange, I removed the key from my anklet and unlocked his cock cage.

Jasper is an amazing little ass-licker – both figuratively and literally. I assume my Mother trained him to do this because he never ate me out like this before he started going to her. He and I never talk much about what he does on weekends.

“Oh, thank god,” Jasper sighed as if he couldn’t wait for his little pecker to be released from the cock cage. I am sure it is frustrating to never be able to get fully hard when he watches me fuck Randy.

My husband’s comment belied his true feelings because I happened to suspect he would prefer to keep his cock cage on 24/7. My mother had told him he had to do it and he pretty much did whatever she told him.

Reality requires me to give his tiny pee-pee a little break so he can shave and clean himself and every now and then I give him a quick wank to make him more compliant. He gets frustrated when he goes longer than a week without a single orgasm.

Jasper also frequently pees all over himself because the cock cage is very restrictive and his pee splashes back on him if his little dicky isn’t perfectly positioned when I reinstall the cage.

I began to milk him just exactly as I’d learned to do, growing up. It doesn’t take long to make Jasper cum. I can look at him with my pretty green eyes and blow on his dick from 12 inches away and make him have an orgasm. I’ve done it before. Today, instead of letting him cum I denied him an orgasm.

I try to keep his orgasms to about 50/50 – sometimes I let him finish and then I make him lick it off the floor. Today, I steered clear of his most sensitive spot beneath his crown and carefully jerked him with just two fingers. I waited until I saw him make a face like he was going to cum and watched his toes curl up and at the last minute, I took my hand away completely.

He looked very dejected. It was almost comical – like a sad clown. I waited a few moments to let his throbbing stop. I know if I touched him too soon, he’d spurt right in my eye. I don’t mind that but I don’t want him to cum today. Jasper is much more compliant when he needs to cum and can’t.

He never fights me to go back in the cage and that’s how I know he loves it more than he wants to admit. He inevitably quietly surrenders and accepts his fate. I’ve often wondered what I would do if he suddenly grew a pair and resisted me. I spit on his dick just to be nice – to leave him with a little lubrication.

I am not totally heartless and sometimes I feel sorry for him. He is so nice I just want to slap his cherubic little face so he won’t look at me with such a trusting smile of acceptance. I locked my husband back in his cock cage with his dick throbbing and his balls swollen.

“Whose cock is this?” I asked him as I squeezed his balls tightly.

“Yours, Ma’am,” he said, his voice rising with his discomfort but at the same time without a trace of fear that I’d accidentally injure him.

I don’t like being called ma’am by him. It takes me out of my submissive headspace. However, he insists and I know I have to allow him his own limitations. Our arrangement is as much for his benefit as mine and if calling me ma’am is what he needs to do, to ensure his happiness, I can certainly understand it.

“No, your cock ONCE belonged to me. I gave it to Master Randy. It belongs to him now,” I informed him seriously. He hasn’t fully accepted that Randy is his Master as well. I think he is waiting for the other shoe to drop and something to go wrong again before he commits himself. He treats Randy like an extended house guest that just happens to own his wife.

I had a purpose for asking Jasper that question. I wasn’t asking for the thrill of hearing his answer but rather, to get him to acknowledge the reality of our changed situation. Jasper was once submissive to me alone and he’d never even known it.

Then Francine had opened his eyes and declared herself to be his part-time Mistress. Jasper could have just as easily acknowledged being owned by Francine - or Mrs Walker as he calls her - but he thought he knew what I wanted to hear. I knew I needed to reinforce his new position as submissive to EVERYONE, but especially Master Randy.

I saw my husband wince and nod. “Yes Ma’am, my cock belongs to Master Randy,” he admitted with a little crack in his voice. It was adorable. When I am feeling a little low, I like to tease my husband like that. I know I sound like a total bitch and I am – but keep in mind, Jasper seems to thrive on verbal humiliation in any form. Even being told he is owned by a man humiliates him.

“If Master wanted to stretch your balls, would you let him?” I asked him casually as I examined them. They were shrunken yet swollen. I suspected my mom has been squeezing and crushing them when he visits her on weekends.

“How far would he stretch them out? Permanently?” Jasper is full of questions. You can answer one, and he’ll have two more to take their place. One of the reasons I wrote my own rules as a place to get started, was to remove some of that uncertainty.

Since this was a hypothetical question, I told him six inches long and yes quite permanently. “My cunt flaps are going to be stretched out like Dumbo’s ears after a month of this,” I pointed to the two weighted balls hanging from my pussy flaps. I gently swayed my hips and they clinked together, sending a shiver through me.

“If you would do it, then I would too. Whatever makes you happy, Ma’am,”
As I said, I hate it when Jasper calls me Ma’am but it’s better than calling me Mistress. He now calls the girls ma’am and Freddy, Sir. I think it weirds them out.
Technically, I am supposed to use speech protocol as well, but I don’t. I am inconsistent in following my own rules. Sometimes I don’t follow them when it is inconvenient or sometimes, simply because I forget. \The way I see it, if no one is going to consistently enforce the rules on me that makes them more like suggestions in nature...

I don’t use the titles Sir and Ma’am at work either. I’m sure my neighbors think I’m nuts because I do call them Sir and Ma’am from time to time. They used to just be the Johnsons to me. Now I’m not supposed to be on a first name basis with any free person. I chose to be a slave so I’m not at any regular person’s level – I am beneath them.

Mr. Johnson is pretty nosy, too. I’ve seen him water the same hedge for hours while facing our house. He saw me naked in the window once and I’ve been avoiding him and hoping he doesn’t question me about it.

The terms Sir and Ma’am are supposed to be applied to everyone besides Jasper – even my kids. I think I am just too proud to call the kids by those titles, and it just felt downright awkward the one time I tried. They haven’t made a big deal out of it, so I dismissed the rule as unnecessary.

Can you imagine if I was in the supermarket with Myra and one of my friends heard me call her Ma’am? They might think I serve her and not Randy. It just another reason I don’t obey any orders from my kids – as for the idea that they might actually tell me what to do, that’s just unthinkable.

Okay, they did try to snap their fingers and get me to cater to them when I first started training. Well Athena and Myra did anyway. Freddy is way too nice.

I am not talking about sexual or degrading orders – just bring them a drink or make them a ham sandwich. It was stuff I would do for them – but they had to ask not tell.

The girls assumed since I was a slave, I had to do what they told me, too. They smirked and told me to bring them something to drink on a silver tray like they’ve always done with their father (this was when Jasper was briefly my Master).

I made them aware that I belonged to my Master and not them and if they wanted a drink, I would bring it to them – then shove it straight up their ass. I probably overreacted because I was nervous and feeling defensive and guilty about what I was doing in full view around the house.

I felt like I needed to be submissive, and yet I was embarrassed to tell my family – the people who should/would have understood the most. I’ve become a lot more open about my need to be submissive with them since then, but we established early on that I was not THEIR slave, and they never tried that again.

I have always been in charge of them whenever my Master (every one since Jasper, anyway) is not home – and that is how it has remained because no one has challenged the status quo that was established under Jasper’s lead.

My girls have pointed out I am a hypocrite with a double standard many times. I always answer the same way: “C’est la vie, C’est la vie,” What will be, will be. It’s an old Doris Day song. My mom used to dress my Dad up like Doris Day and make him sing it to me when I was growing up. He was quite fetching in glossy lipstick, a wig, and a sequin dress.

I know what you may be thinking – I cuckolded my husband just like my mom cuckolded my Dad.

As I mentioned earlier, my Mom effortlessly cuckolded my husband just like she did my Dad. I once literally begged Jasper to take charge of the house and be my Master. We even tried it for a weekend. He had no idea what to do, and he couldn’t hurt a fly. I originally wrote the first draft of the rules I gave Randy, for Jasper to enforce. To MAKE me follow. Giving them to Jasper had been a dismal failure that doesn’t even warrant talking about.

Well except to admit that he said he would discipline me as my Master, if that’s what I truly wanted. But he was simply too nice and understanding with every mistake I made. It’s one thing to understand my need for submission, but he accepted any excuse for poor behavior, forgave easily and justified everything I did wrong – even when I clearly admitted to him it was my fault.

I couldn’t help testing the poor guy and he didn’t even get off the starting block. Being a Master just wasn’t for Jasper. I will give him credit for at least trying to keep me in line. I’ve often wondered if I should give him a second chance, and I’ve even mentioned it to him, but my mother forbids him from even talking about it with me.

I am sure she thinks I am totally bananas for submitting to a man. She and I rarely talk and if we do it is just for a few minutes.

Jasper and I shower together. It’s a rule, not a cute-married-couple choice. I let him wash my back and massage me. He regularly tries to cop a few free feels and that’s fine with me. I don’t usually reciprocate or wash him back. I shave my own pussy, pits and legs and I don’t even always do a complete job. Jasper, on the other hand, will be in the bathroom for thirty more minutes primping and preening to an exacting hygiene standard.

This morning I masturbated with my toothbrush just for fun for a minute before I brushed my teeth - using the bristle end to really get my clit and sheath clean, then I slapped on some makeup and did my hair. I am sure all this shit is boring you, but the point is I do an okay job of making myself presentable before I reinsert the butt plug and crawl into the kitchen.

I can always count on the girls waking Freddy up and getting him dressed. They usually make themselves and him some cereal. The girls are naked now, so they have to squat on the floor. They were holding their bowls and eating with spoons.
They don’t sit in the most obscene or vulgar way like I have to squat. I squat down and hold my knees apart and usually put my hands behind my head – making sure my asshole and cunt are as spread and visible as possible.

They slouch and laze around. I am often onto them about their posture, but they don’t seem to care. I am envious really, that they have it so easy. I would probably slouch too, if Master didn’t punish me for it.

“Good morning rugrats, what’s for breakfast?” I asked.

“Chex,” my daughters have a bowl for me already. The milk has made the Chex soggy. I mentioned I often eat table scraps – it’s been helping me watch my weight. Master Randy doesn’t try to make me eat garbage or really gross things although I had one Master who wanted me to eat nothing but birdseed.

I usually eat like a dog out of a bowl on the floor while I am in training. Randy hasn’t said much about diet protocol or rule changes so that is what I’ve been doing. I had one Master that expected me to go face first into the food and suck it up while holding my ass cheeks as far apart as I could. I felt totally stupid eating that way. So I’ve just been eating on my hands and knees lately. It’s still humiliating and grueling but Master hasn’t demanded any changes to what he’s seen and I make the most of his lax attitude towards eating.

“Mom, can we finally get some eggs and bacon and shit like that,” Myra complained as she often did. Jasper used to cook a really nice meal before all the changes in our relationship started. He’d get up early and make scratch biscuits, fresh yogurt and even have fruit slices.

“That’s your dad’s specialty. He’s in the bathroom getting ready for work though,” I told her as I ate. He could have woken up early and started on a fresh breakfast, but he had been told by Master Randy to follow me through my morning rituals and he knows I like to sleep in.

“Mom, can I go with my friends to the movies tonight?” Athena asked next. I always feel like I am holding court. She has a friend named Charlotte who is always up to no good. A total slut and it’s pretty obvious she smokes pot. A total bad influence. Charlotte pretends to be nice but I know she is sneaky and devious.

It takes one to know one and she seems like a sour little apple masquerading as a ripe one. I could be wrong but I get that vibe that she is dishonest and a bad influence on Athena.

“Master will be awake shortly. You can ask him, but it is a Wednesday, so most likely he will say no,” I warned her. One of the good things to come out of this is I can delegate all the hard decisions to my Master. I no longer have to deal with them complaining, “You told her she could do this and now you are saying I can’t do the same thing! That’s not fair.”

I think I told you that my parenting style is that I do not seek balance or justice. I seek order. As long as that order is maintained, it doesn’t matter if it is done by me. Randy works just fine for that. I can let him be the bad guy.

“Mom, you have snot dripping off your thing,” Freddy added bashfully. I looked behind me and noticed that I had a long strand of my own cum dripping out of my pussy like a gossamer spider’s web and hadn’t realized it. I was incredibly horny.

“That’s cum, you goof,” Myra explained the concept of snail trails to her brother. He scrunched his nose in disgust. I knew he had entered puberty but I wondered just how little he knew about the female body. I would have assumed by now he knew a lot since he now saw me and his sisters naked all the time.

I told Freddy that it was girly-goo and explained it was a type of cream that gets excreted from naughty girls’ slits. Freddy never cusses around me but he knows what my slit is. He’s seen it enough times.

I could sense he was staring directly into my butthole through the plug I wore. There was a large hole in the center, and he was seated strategically in a chair that let him look inside of me.