Chapter 49

“What is the meaning of this?” Dennis insisted as he stormed over to where we were standing in the yard. His daughter was bound to a push mower in a skimpy bra that exposed her nipples and a pair of pink panties that had been rolled up to show as much flesh as possible. That was certainly the reaction that Mrs. Waxerman expected from him.

“I am very disappointed!” he said.

Mrs. Waxerman couldn’t agree more.

“I told you to have these girls mow the lawn BEFORE I get home,” he yelled at me. Mrs. Waxerman was confused by Dennis’s concern. She expected him to berate me for making his daughter mow in this state of bondage.

“I had to punish them for playing with themselves twice without permission,” I began.

“I don’t want to hear excuses!” Dennis roared. “Now untie Rachel’s hands this minute!”

Mrs. Waxerman seemed to approve of that until Dennis explained that he wanted her to unload his jeep. “Go get her lazy sister and get her to help unload the jeep. I’ll discuss this with you later!”

“Yes Sir,” I quickly cut Rachel’s bindings with a box-cutter I had been carting around for that purpose. Then I excused myself to get Lori. Dennis apologized sweetly to Mrs. Waxerman. “I am so sorry about this. My girls get their bad behavior from their mother.”

“Well, I never,” Mrs. Waxerman was so flustered that was all she could muster.

Doris popped out of the jeep. She was wearing a shredded denim pair of shorts and a white tank top. She was bruised all over. Her pussy lips were stretched out and the hoops hung down heavily between her legs. “Well, maybe you SHOULD sometimes, and you wouldn’t be so uptight,” I heard Doris reply to her snarkily.

She looked exhausted, and sweaty but happy. Doris winked at me as I passed through the garage. I heard Dennis insist that Doris apologize to Mrs. Waxerman as I went to get Lori.

“Come on Tittler,” I demanded that Lori crawl behind me and drag her naked tits through the garage. She still had the frozen turd in her mouth, but it had thawed quite a bit and there was just a thin crust of wet ice between her lips and the brownish poop. I made her keep the dildo in her asshole like a tail as she crawled.

I stopped so that she could put on a modicum of clothes in the garage. Dennis came around the door and yelled at me. “What are you doing?”

“Letting Lori get dressed,” I said as Lori stood up and removed the dildo from her butt. She looked contrite and a little scared, as if she were nervous that her father was in a really bad mood.

“Did I tell you to play dress up Barbie with my daughter or did I tell you to get her so she could help unload the jeep?”

“Get her so she could unload the jeep, Sir?” I mumbled. I was scared too. Dennis seemed abrasive and pissed off – just like he had when I first met him on Friday.

“It’s simple. If I tell you to do something, then I want you to do it,” he insisted that I help unload the jeep as well. Mrs. Waxerman watched as we unloaded several heavy crates from the jeep. It took two of us to carry them into the garage.

Lori blushed but didn’t try to hide her nudity as she joined the others. The other girls weren’t wearing much but she was completely naked.

“Do you want to observe my wife’s spanking for making fun of you, Mrs. Waxerman?”

“Well, it’s not entirely necessary” Mrs. Waxerman seemed pleased.

“I don’t have time to spank them. I need to get this assembled. Can you handle something as simple as twenty swats on their asses?” Dennis pushed the paddle into my hands as we stood in his open garage way.

“All of them?”

“Yes, for starters,” Dennis said that he was disappointed the lawn wasn’t completed, but he assumed the girls broke other rules today and he’d want to know all about it. I thought about telling him about our mall escapade but with Mrs. Waxerman watching I decided against it.

“Panties down, asses up,” I insisted that the girls stand in the doorway of the garage and moon the street. Mrs. Waxerman seemed surprised that I was being asked to spank even Doris. Dennis went about unpacking his crates. He ignored us and focused on them in his normal brusque manner.

“Do you spank them all of the time?” Mrs. Waxerman watched as I spanked Doris on the bare ass. Her pussy lips shook each time I landed a swat and clanged together like chimes. I could tell that Mrs. Waxerman was feigning disgust and only barely hiding her delight at the same time. She was thrilled to watch her next door neighbor get this cum-uppance.

“No, just when I babysit,” I pretended I did this all the time. I told Doris to count, or I would start again.

“One sir, thank you!”

“Doris, how often do I spank you?” I hit her well-rounded ass again. She was dirty as if she had been rolling around at the beach. Her hair was messed up and flat as if she had been swimming and her make-up practically non-existent. It made her look quite a bit older when she didn’t wear make-up.

“Two Sir, as often as necessary when I misbehave!”

“But how many times in a day on average? Mrs. Waxerman would like to know,” I insisted.

Mrs. Waxerman tried to pretend that she wasn’t nosy, but she was watching intently. Doris seemed reluctant but then counted another swat “On the ass only or on my tits and cunt too?”

Mrs. Waxerman nearly seemed to fall over. She was no longer even attempting to hide the satisfaction she got from hearing this despite appearing shocked over the vulgarity.

“Any sort of punishment,” I insisted. I spanked her so that the paddle hit her pussy lips sharply and she jerked her body.

Doris counted again “Just you alone? Not that many. You probably punish the girls more than me, Sir”

A car went down the street. I don’t know if they saw us, but they drove pretty slow. I assumed they had seen the girls. Doris begged to move the punishment inside.

“I do what your husband tells me,” I explained as I spanked Doris’s lovely bare ass again. The metal piercings knocked together and bruised her thighs with every swat.

“Don’t we all,” Doris lamented. Mrs. Waxerman seemed to revel quite thoroughly in her neighbor’s humiliation, and she watched me give Doris twenty swats. She had less interest in watching me finish on Lori and Rachel.

“What are your daughters sucking on?” Mrs. Waxerman finally became annoyed watching the two girls actively sucking on the phallic shaped, brownish ice-pops in their mouth.

“That is a frozen turd,” I explained as if it was not something out of the ordinary. “If they hurry with their work and finish, they can stop sucking on it before it melts. Obviously, every time they stop to get punished, that becomes less and likely.”

That was more than enough to make Mrs. Waxerman leave in a huff. She harumphed and called all of us deviants and perverts. It was something of a badge of honor to the girls.

The girls almost stood up after she left and began to laugh. I double-downed on the spankings and pounded their asses with the flat of my paddle to let them know that I had not finished or given them permission to get up.

“You’ve really become quite a bit more aggressive since I first met you,” Doris seemed impressed as she returned to waiting bent over with her ass facing out towards the road in front of her house. She grabbed her ankles and patiently let me finish spanking her daughters.

The Wagner women remained in position until I finished spanking all of them. Dennis had seemingly been engrossed in assembling the contents of the crate. I still had no idea what they were but there were at least two of them. He chided me for how long it took me to deliver a simple spanking and then insisted we come into the garage and help.

Lori and Doris were bottomless, but Rachel had to help while her panties were around her ankles. Lori and Rachel still had frozen turds in their mouths and they didn’t dare remove them. They looked more like unlit cigars at this point as the ice had melted and ran down their dirty chins.

It soon became clear that Dennis was assembling clear tanks made of a plexiglass material. He explained that they were “Mermaid training tanks”.

“Do you want me to suck the turds out of their mouths, Dennis?” Doris asked politely. When he ignored her question, she assumed that was a no. She looked at the girls with a measure of empathy. The turds would thaw soon and the dirty ice was running down their chins. They didn’t dare take them out.

Dennis told me that they came from a place called Weeki Wachee. Back then it was a tourist trap in Florida. It featured antebellum style gardens, fair rides and most of all – mermaids. These were women who supposedly could breathe under water for long periods of time.

I had never been, but I had seen the tourist pamphlets. They used to put pamphlets to all sorts of Florida attractions in truck stops. The selling point was a scantily clad, beautiful woman swimming around in a underwater tank for the amusement of the audience. I know it probably sounds crazy but in the 1980s that was considered ‘family’ entertainment.

It was obviously more focused on the entertainment of the men in the family that would like to see a big-breasted girl try to hold her breath and wave at them while swimming around like a fish underwater.

Dennis pointed to some pumps that were designed to pump water into the tanks and explained that these were used to train the girls to hold their breath. “The girls can be sealed in here for hours or just for a few minutes to hold their breath. It’s a practice tank,” he explained.

The look on Lori and Rachel’s face suggested they knew that he intended to make them ‘practice’ in the tanks. He had heavy lead weights that could be attached to their legs and arms to ensure that they could not easily struggle when they were sealed in as well.

The tanks had breathing holes in the top that could be covered. There was also an oxygen hose that fed into the tank that allowed the girl to take a breath as she may need it. However, it was quite obvious that it was controlled from outside the tank.

Doris seemed quite amused with the tanks as she dutifully helped assemble her own future torture device. “You really didn’t have to invite my neighbor to visit anytime she wanted.”

The girls had been silent for the entire time. The melting frosty turds in their mouths helped with that. They had started to curl and hang out of their mouth like fluffy brown twinkies. There were only a few ice crystals.

“Uh, Dagda-dee, um?” Lori pointed to her mouth and interrupted her father’s work. She was clearly concerned about the melting poo and wanted his permission to remove it. Lightly brownish spit was dripping down Lori’s pretty chin. She was trying not to move her mouth and that made her speak with a lisp. I’ve seen her talk fluently around small gags and penises before. She was doing her best not to let the crap she was holding in her mouth fall off of her chin.

“The sound of silence is such a beautiful thing. We had some decent peace and quiet. It’s one of my favorite things about family weekends,” Dennis lamented the interruption. He had a placid look on his face as if he was going to miss it when the girls were able to talk freely again.

Lori and Rachel glared at him with wide-eyes and apathetic expression on their face. They were naked and kneeling by one of the tubs. The two of them had been pretending to assemble it for the last ten minutes while Dennis did most of the work.

“You have shit for brains,” Dennis said. “You talk a bunch of shit, and a mountain of shit drops out of that fat-ass of yours. Why are you suddenly so concerned about holding onto a little dollop of your own mess?” he grinned.

“Please?” she begged. A tiny drop of the melted poo landed on the top of her breast.

“I paid this boy a hundred dollars to babysit you and make you mow the grass. I still haven’t checked it yet but judging by the job your sister did on the front lawn you probably have not finished the work he assigned you. That means you are still HIS problem,” Dennis regarded me with a grin on his face. He scratched his face and told me to decide their fates. “I don’t care what you decide. They can hold the turds like that in their big mouths until they fully defrost. You can be merciful if you think they truly deserve it and let them kiss them into their mother’s sewer of a mouth and she can gobble them up like the shit-eating cunt that she is. I’ve got new toys to assemble and until I tell you otherwise, you work for me – handle it, Brian.”

I knew he was having a little fun with the girl’s dilemma. I appreciated that he reinforced that I was still in charge and that meant a lot to me. Rachel and Lori, both flashed me adoring, puppy-dog eyes and began to silently beg for mercy.

My natural inclination was to be magnanimous and let them spit it out. Dennis had not made that an option. I knew that Doris was willing to actually eat the turds but that somehow did not seem very fair to Doris.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I warned them playfully. The girls both continued to look at me with the same pleading expression, but they raised their hands and shrugged as if they didn’t know what I was talking about. Lori smiled a little and another droplet of icy-poo melted down her neck.

“I haven’t forgotten that you fed me one of those frozen turds and pretended it was a 100,000 grand bar,” I snickered at their predicament.

Lori tried to mumble something funny about her shit being golden and worth a hundred grand. Dennis didn’t look up from his work but he couldn’t hide the trace of a smile on his face. He was listening intently as he worked.

“I also haven’t forgotten that you and Ra told me that sucking on turds is good practice to be trashy whores that clean their own mess off of cocks,” I said. It was the first time I addressed Rachel as “Ra”. I heard the family call her that as a nickname before. I had felt a little strange about it, but when no one called me out for it, I thought that was pretty cool.

The girls glanced at each other furtively and then back at me. Their expression was imploring me to release them from this torture. “Practice kissing the turds back and forth. You were both caught playing with yourselves today. You were punished but I overhead you at the 7-11 masturbating again so you didn’t learn your lesson.”

I don’t know if it was the shock from the girl’s realization that they would have to pass the turds between their lips to each other, or that I had just outed myself to their father for leaving the house that shocked them more. Their faces lit up with fear.

“Your mouths are cesspools of vulgarities. It’s time you learned how it felt to be a real toilet,” I insisted they begin kissing. The girls were reluctant but leaned close until their nipples were touching as they knelt facing one another. They started to French kiss and pass the gobby-goo back and forth.