Chapter 27

What? I thought I had fantastic grades. How on earth was this a problem now? Was I having a memory lapse? My mom looked so serious. I assumed that I was in trouble.

She read a comment out loud from my math teacher. “Tig O’Brian is quite clearly in the wrong class,” Mom said. She looked at me with disappointment. I had no explanation.

Mom continued reading. “Tig tackles complex assignments, asks the right questions and is a model student with an avaricious curiosity and insatiable need for academic progress. It is my recommendation that she be removed from basic Algebra and placed in AP Calculus. I do have concerns about dress code violations that I have noted, but those should not prevent her from consideration for a fast track to advanced placement.”

“I am sorry about the dress code violations, Ma’am.” I apologized. I was thrilled that I had done so will and couldn’t believe that Mr. Buckner ratted me out for dress code. I sucked his dick twice! I didn’t understand why my mom looked so concerned, but I apologized again. (Humility)

“You don’t seem sorry at all, Tig,” Mom said. “I am not sorry at all. I had to check all of these comments, because every teacher says the same thing about your academic progress. I didn’t trust the fact that you were on honor roll. I thought you might have convinced some hacker. I also had a parent-teacher conference with Mr. Buckner. He withdrew the concerns about dress codes when I asked him if he was slut shaming you.”

I was shocked.

“Bunny O’Brian, I am shocked! You had only ONE B. Your sister got ALL A’s – I am not sure how you can allow that to stand?” Mom asked.

Bunny suppressed the need to smile.

“Go ahead and smile, Ladies. You have earned a pat on the back!” Mom let us bathe in her praise before dropping the bomb. “But now for the bad news,” she began to read from a list of rules, which began with this one;

“You are no longer permitted to wear panties and bras at school.

We were stunned. Why would she want that?

“It was working, and I have felt miserable that your brothers felt the need to change the rules to accommodate me. You will report to me in the morning before you go out the door and prove to me that you do not have any undergarments and I will search bags randomly!”

“Yes Ma’am?” I addressed her with apprehension. That was not what I expected.

“I told you that you may not like it. What has been working, is going to continue for as long as you are under my roof. There is no take-backs,” Mom took out the chore wheel she had spent years modifying and crafting to fairly distribute chores and ripped it in half. “As unfair as it is to distribute all chores, I am afraid this is working too well. So, you will be expected to continue.”

Was this reverse psychology? Was she playing with us? I was afraid to get excited – that sounded great.

“As such, your father and I are going to start giving you direct orders. I’m tired of your brothers having all of the convenience of personal maids, gardeners, and attendants. If your father and I give you an order, I expect it to be obeyed and you will address us as Sir or Ma’am. Even though I am your mom, and always will be – and I love you very much and cherish you. You may not address me as Mom when you are acknowledging my orders or asking me permission. You may only address me as mom informally.”

“But Ma’am, we would do anything that you tell us?”

“As a courtesy, but you answer to your Masters, do you not? Oh yes, I’ve overheard you. When I give you an order, I expect just as much weight in authority as they have. That includes that beginning tonight you’ll start running my bath, and one of you will be designated to remain in the bathroom and attend my needs, light candles, play soft music, and wash my back and toes. We’ll alternate at first, but I may select one of you I prefer.”

Wow. I was stunned.

“You seem to enjoy being furniture. You have remained on all fours even when I walked into the room, but furniture does not wear clothing. The thongs are completely inappropriate for furniture. As I anticipate needing a chair for me to sit and complete contracts or knit, I expect you two to strip at the front door and dress at the front door unless you have explicit permission from someone in the house -higher rank than yourself – which is everyone seated at this table.”

I swallowed. What was the joke? Was this a mockery? She wasn’t serious – she couldn’t be.

“Why have you not started undressing?”

I began quickly to step out of my bottoms and top. “What about guests, Ma’am? Your friends?”

“This isn’t question and answer time, Tiggy. I am speaking. Get on your knees, put your nose to the floor and stick your ass up in the air while you await a punishment for speaking out of turn. The answer to your question is that I just told you that cunts strip at the door, dress at the door before leaving, and must have explicit permission from any of us to wear clothing. If I have to throw your clothes in the trash or lock them up, I shall. Now, at what point did I tell you that when there are guests here, the rules no longer apply?”

“None, Ma’am?” I placed my nose on the floor and looked at the floor.

“Ass facing me, sweetheart,” Mom said. “Yes, Mike – you can look. Don’t pretend you’ve never looked at them,” Mom shrugged it off like it was no big as I faced my ass towards my family seated at the table.

Dad’s eyes were huge. This was definitely news to him. The rest of us were just as stunned.

“I’ve decided that you had some privacy, and you reached a 3.5, but the less privacy that you have the better you do at cleaning. So, I have three new rules surrounding chores. The first is that you are slow! Very inefficient. That seems to improve your behavior. So, there will be no mops, no brooms, no vacuum cleaners”

Mom placed two toothbrushes and two sponges on the table. “I expected you to clean on your knees a lot so we may get you knee pads. This will be painful, grueling work. Whenever possible you will scrub with elbow grease and nothing else. You will use hand brushes when necessary but I’d you pick up the crumbs with your fingers. The chores will take longer but the benefit is that you seem to behave yourselves and it keeps you out of mischief.”

Wow.

“Time outs are over. They seem to be a waste of time and you use them as a break to rest. We will punish you immediately when a mistake is made, and you will continue working as soon as you recover.”

WOW! What? Where was this coming from? Everything mom said was even more shocking than the last thing.

“I was in your room today and noticed that you have removed your office chair. Do you stand to use your computer?” Mom asked me. Why not Bethany? I was intensely humiliated in a way that I cannot describe because I never expected my mom to talk to me like this.

“No Ma’am,” I answered truthfully.

“Do you sit on the floor?”

“No Ma’am, I do not.”

“That is what I suspected,” Mom seemed disappointed. Did she know what we did up in our room? “You seemed to do better with minimal privacy. I feel you could get by without any. As of now, there is nothing you do that isn’t visible to the rest of us. The first thing to go is your room. I will personally supervise you removing everything out of it this weekend. Most of it can be transported to the dump as you will no longer need it – but what can be salvaged will be donated to Charity. You will convert this to my new office. Tiggy, come here and be my chair,” Mom moved her chair and stood up. I crawled under neath my mother and she sat herself on my back.

“Fine, so when I am in my new office, I expect one of you to be my chair. Your back is actually fairly warm,” Mom made herself comfortable. “If I need you to perform menial tasks for me on the computer, I expect you will sit how you have been sitting.”

“We sit on a curtain rod, Ma’am.” Bethany explained.

“Hmm, that is interesting. Do you use any lubrication?” My mom didn’t even seem shocked. It was like she knew that and accepted it. I thought she’d freak out over how perverse it was. It wasn’t comfortable but it was fun sometimes sliding up and down. Magnificent.

Bethany turned beet red and when she said she did my mom asked what kind. “I didn’t see any lotion in your room.”

“My own um ... juice and spit, ma’am”

“Your juice?”

“My cream,” Bethany pointed to the slit of her bare pussy now that she was naked to emphasize that is where it was made.

“I’ve heard you call it a cunt behind my back. Why won’t you say that word?”

“My cunt, ma’am.”

“Good, okay, that will save on expensive creams. I expect you to sleep downstairs in the living room where we can see both of you and it is easier in case your father or I need something to be able to give you a command. I seldom go upstairs because your rooms were up there. You’ll have no personal effects downstairs. I do not want my living room to look like a bedroom. Now, as to the bathroom, I’ve noticed that all three of your brothers tend to go in there with you. Is it safe to assume that even Matt has seen you poop and pee?”

“Yes Ma’am,”

“Dear, would you be amenable to the girls using the backyard garden during the daylight hours and then the front yard rose bushes during the evening?”

“To poop?” Dad said.

“Yes, if you think the neighbors might complain or it might be hazardous to the plants, I am amenable to another arrangement. However, I get the impression it is rather a show and tell activity for the girls. I was thinking perhaps we could place water-resistant folding chairs outside for spectators.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Dad asked Mom in earnest.

“No, I’ve reached a conclusion. Everyone else has been okay with the arrangement, and the only one in denial has been me. I am not preventing anything by requiring everyone to hide everything. They haven’t done a very effective job of that anyway and I simply cannot deny that the girls are happier this way. I would like to try acceptance and understanding.”

“By requiring the girls to use the bathroom outside?” Dad seemed flabbergasted.

“Tiggy, have you ever used the bathroom outside, in our yard?”

I was reluctant, but I decided to tell her because it seemed like she knew. “Yes Ma’am, I shit and piss outside when I am mowing the lawn if I am given permission.”

“How do you do it?” Mom seemed to know anyway, and she just wanted to tell everyone the humiliating way I had to shit on the lawn when I was doing yard work. The first time it happened, Danny was just teasing me and rushing me, and I told him I would do it if he’d get off my back. I did it, and he didn’t get off my back – instead, that became the norm when we were in the backyard.

She wanted me to describe the process? I felt a chill run down my spine as I answered the question.

“I pull my thong to the side, squat, and take a dump like a pig.”

“Radiant” I told myself. Hearing the word in my mind made me feel calm. This couldn’t be happening. My mom shouldn’t be saying these things. She wasn’t supposed to know everything.

“And then?” My mom asked me to describe what else I did.

“I take it you saw me, Ma’am?”

“I asked you a question,” My mom smacked my butt while she sat on my back and told me to answer what I was asked and not respond with a question unless it was to clarify what she was asking.

“I am permitted to get on my hands and knees, put my nose in it, and sniff my own shit and then a Master will take a garden hose to my asshole and wash me, before giving me permission to bag it and discard my shit.”