Chapter 8

Once we were back in the car, the girls lifted their skirts as expected without Randy having to do much more than clear his throat to remind them of the new rule. I wasn’t too concerned about it. The girls would probably tire of trying to shock Randy, and they were already naked at home.

Randy told my husband to get into the trunk and remove his pants. His shirt was long enough that it would be fine. When my husband inevitably hemmed and hawed, Randy told him that people would think he had shorts on.

I pulled my own shirt up and flipped my skirt up. I spread my legs apart so that my knees were as wide apart as they could go. I knew I was expected to do this every time from now on when I was in the car. I was already planning on ignoring the rule after I left the house and right before I came home when I drove alone. It was incredibly humiliating, and if I got pulled over, I doubted I could talk my way out of it.

I might get lucky and be able to offer the cop a blowjob – but I’d probably get a ball-busting lady cop instead.

Randy turned up the radio. It was Journey’s, ‘Don’t Stop Believing’. I love that song.

“So what if we decide to start wearing panties again, Sir?” Athena asked after a few minutes.

“I thought you said you had given them up,” Randy laughed.

“I could always decide to start wearing them again, Sir.”

“Are you indecisive or just afraid I’ll see your pussy-flaps?”

Athena’s response was to sit with her knees as wide-apart as I was. It was a bold move.

“If you think that impresses me, it doesn’t,” Randy said. “The little wishy-washy girl who changes her mind like she changes her panties? Now, if you said you would never wear panties as long as you live in MY house and you would ALWAYS sit like that in the car no matter who was in it – well then, I’d probably think you can keep your commitments.”

“I will if you will?” She looked at Myra.

“Fucking bitch,” Myra was half-joking. She knew her little sister would probably challenge her to do it as well, and she just couldn’t let her little sister do something she wasn’t willing to do. “Please don’t say we are riding topless,” she laughed and spread her knees to the side.

“I didn’t hear either of you promise shit. I just saw you open your legs like that’s all it takes,” Randy said.

“Fine, I promise to never wear panties in YOUR house again, or a Bra unless it is a sports bra, and I’ll sit like this for every ride no matter who rides with us,” Athena declared boldly.

Myra was a little more chickenshit and was not willing to give up her bra. I guess there were SOME things she’d let Athena do that she didn’t have the courage or desire to do herself.

“Well, color me impressed. Now show me that you are serious about keeping your promises and we’ll talk about loosening some of your restrictions around the house.”

Freddy asked, “What can I promise, Sir?”

“You can promise to be a good helper and tell if your mom or sisters slouch so I can keep my eyes on this road instead of their fat snatches,” he said.

“Hey, I do NOT have a fat snatch,” Myra giggled. She had a pretty big clit – something I think she was ashamed of. She had grown a dark patch of hair to cover up a lot of her pussy.

“I wouldn’t know. It looks like a fucking pube stache growing around that hog. Don’t you have any consideration for boys you date? They don’t want to mess with all that stuff. It gets sweaty and gross,” Randy said.

“Do you have pubes, Master Randy?” Athena asked playfully. One of my rules is that I am technically not supposed to speak in these situations unless I am spoken to. I pinched her bottom hard.

Athena glared at me. I knew she had to be winding him up. I wondered what her end-goal was. I suspected she was trying to either seduce him or lead him on. She might be trying to do both. Athena had flirted with previous Masters and some of them were in their late 50s. She couldn’t possibly have been interested in them.

“Don’t ask questions unless you really want to know,” Randy replied.

Master Phil used to say she was a ‘masterful conversationalist’ – but I am pretty sure he just wanted to touch her tits and play with her.

I know what you must be thinking. What kind of mother puts her daughter around men that want to fuck her. I have two hot teenage girls who have bodies almost like adults. Any straight guy that is around them is going to want to fuck them if he can. Athena was sending out signals that could lead to a serious misunderstanding.

And yes, I was getting a little jealous that I was not the center of attention, okay? I have many shortcomings, and that is one of them.

Our next stop was going to make me the focus again. I can tell you that. It was a short drive to a tattoo parlor with no name. The sign outside just said “TATTOO” and I doubted very seriously Randy had researched this place at all.

I had several tattoos – including a black ace of spades. All of them raunchy reminders of past sex-quests to get my freak on when I wasn’t under any sort of discipline. We were still several weeks from the decision to make this permanent or not, and the last thing I wanted was ‘Master Randy’ tattooed on my ass if this wasn’t going to last.

I squawked – I don’t think I said anything intelligent. I just made a noise of disinterest/revulsion.

“Don’t get your tits twisted. You aren’t getting a tattoo,” he said.

I was shocked that they let my family enter the tattoo parlor. The ones I’ve been to seemed like they were all 18+. This one was small and there was only one guy working there. A man named Tucker. He was heavily tattooed himself, about twenty years old, bald head, beard, thick black glasses, and dressed in black with Doc Martin’s on.

Apparently, this was where a lot of teenage girls came to get belly button piercings. I was shocked that Athena and Myra weren’t interested in one when Randy offered it to them. I wasn’t sure how comfortable I was with it.

Tucker introduced himself. He recognized the dynamic immediately. My husband and I wore collars and my shirt said “HUSBAND” and “MASTER” with arrows pointing in two directions. It didn’t take all that much to piece together.

“We get a lot of lifestyle couples in here. What can I do you for?” he asked.

“Can I get a tattoo, Master Randy?” Freddy begged as if it was some sort of new Pokemon game for his Nintendo.

“A tattoo is permanent. You should only get a tattoo when you know what you want and it means something to you – and you are comfortable having it for the rest of your life. Do you want to see why?”

Freddy nodded eagerly.

Randy raised his sleeve and showed my son his Gangnam-style tattoo. It consisted of a chubby Asian man with a bouffant haircut and sunglasses dancing with two Asian girls on either arm and the words “Gangnam style”

“What is that supposed to be?” Freddy asked curiously.

“Exactly!” Randy rolled his sleeve back up and explained that it was his first tattoo and he picked the first thing that popped into his head because his father said he couldn’t have a tattoo and he was old enough to get one. “Now I have this motherfucker on my arm for the rest of my life,” he chuckled.

“We aren’t here for a tattoo. Just nipple piercings,” he said. I started to get nervous. My whole family knows my wedding ring is in the center of my clit. However, that is symbolism. I didn’t want to get all pierced and tattooed up. I wasn’t sure I was ready to make any sort of commitment.

Randy wasted no time picking out some heavy gauge studs. I started to suspect that they were for Myra and Athena. They were walking around the tiny lobby laughing and giggling at various flash designs – most of which were in the old 1950s style. There were a lot of boobies, sailors, anchors and succubus women symbology on the walls.

“Jasper, you first. Shirt off,” Randy demanded.

“But Sir,” Jasper was reluctant and refused.

“Butt? Okay, if you insist,” Randy replied and asked the man if he had a private area. He was clearly not expecting Jasper to grow a spine anytime soon. Randy was going to prove a point to my husband that he expected his total obedience.

“I have the one booth. Bathroom is at the 7-11 across the street,” he replied.

“Do you mind if I spank Jasper in the booth while you pierce her?” Randy inquired politely.

Tucker thought he was kidding.

Jasper started pleading not to be spanked, but Randy told him the decision was already made.

“Typically, I do the piercing behind the privacy curtain and the customers stay out here,” Tucker laughed. His voice was somewhat effeminate. I suspected he wasn’t straight – probably bisexual or gay.

“Fine, do you mind if I spank Jasper in the lobby? There are no customers here,” Randy asked.

Tucker seemed bemused but reminded him that we had teenagers in there.

“It’s okay, they’ve seen their father spanked before,” he replied.

Tucker probably sees some of the freakiest people asking for body modifications to split their penis or tongue, tattoo their eyeball, all sorts of weird piercings and even he seemed shocked (and reluctant).

Jasper was quiet at this point. He knew it would only make things worse to keep protesting. He was panicked and promising he was fine with a nipple piercing. He was just worried that my mother wouldn’t approve and she’d make him take it out.

“Do you belong to me or Mrs. Walker, Jasper?”

“You, Master,” Jasper looked down. I know he might have preferred to belong to my mother. She didn’t want him full-time and I think he knew that.

“Take off your shirt and hand it to me.”

Jasper looked at the door. I would have laughed if he tried to make a run for it. He was just trying to look outside to see if there were any customers. The windows were mostly blacked except for the glass door.

He removed his shirt and stood there looking pathetic – cock cage, collar and butt plug only.

“Oh my,” Tucker laughed. He noticed my kids didn’t even bat an eye. They were talking and pointing at the art on the wall.

“Your turn,” he said.

I took off my shirt and handed it to my Master.

“Skirt as well. It’s only fair – if Jasper has to be naked,” he told me.

Tucker didn’t tell us I could not strip in his lobby. After all, there was a man with his tiny cock dangling in a cock cage and his bare bottom hanging out.

I obediently stepped out of my skirt and stood there in heels, collar, butt plug and two love-balls stuffed in my bald, wet pussy – probably looking more pathetic than sexy, myself. What a pair Jasper and I made.

Tucker told us it wasn’t the first time someone stripped down in his lobby, and it wouldn’t be the last. He had some paperwork for us to sign before we could even get started. I suppose that only prolonged my humiliation.

I was ordered initially to wait while squatting down in front of two empty folding chairs with my hands behind my head and my mouth open wide. My kids chuckled – they’ve seen me do this plenty of times – but this was the first time I did it in front of them in public. I was completely mortified but I pretended this was a perfectly normal thing for me to do.

My husband paid (don’t ask me where he kept his credit card. I still don’t know). Randy asked Tucker indiscreetly if he wanted a blowjob as a tip when it was all over.

“From who?” he asked.