Chapter 7

Bubbles asked if I chose her to give me a hand job again would she mind if I do it differently next time.

IF? I’d have a hard not choosing her. I played it off like I would think about it. Obviously, it was the greatest sexual experience of my entire young life up until this point. I was still lost in that feeling of extreme ecstasy after shooting my load on her.

She giggled playfully and didn’t take offense when I seemed like what she had just done for me was no big deal and I would need to think about whether or not I wanted to let her do it to me again. “Can I really go out of the bathroom like this?” she let me see her cummy asshole one more time and spread it so that I could see my jizz glazing her perfect little pucker.

“Mom and Dad should be home soon,” I warned her without giving her a yes or no. Technically, she didn’t really need my permission. It’s not like I could go to Mom and Dad and say that she wouldn’t clean my cum off her asshole.

Mom said the girls had to milk us on command and I knew she meant a simple, straightforward hand job. I was shocked when they said that I could tell them to do it. Mom said she knew we were doing it to ourselves already and this was really not that much different. “It’s just like shaking up a Sprite bottle and watching all the soda fizz out of the top.”

The erotic dance and balancing act Bubbles was performing was way beyond what Mom probably had in mind. It was truly mind-blowing and unexpected.

My parents hadn’t asked for any details about the hand jobs. It was just something they said we could do, and they left it at that. Unless she asked me to describe what happened – I was not going to tell her.

“They know I get wet between my legs. They won’t know how much of that is you or me. It feels gross and slimy,” she scrunched her nose in disgust. Most people didn’t want to feel gross and slimy between their legs. However, my sister loved to play in the mud and gross and slimy was fun to her. “Pretty please?”

I snickered and nodded. She was delighted as she left the bathroom before I did. I had to sit for a few minutes. My leg muscles had frozen up and I felt like I strained them when I came. My entire body had tightened – even my stomach hurt. My toes had curled up and I felt like the tendons in my feet were sore.

When I finally returned to the living room, the girls were laughing and cleaning. Georgie was watching them and sitting on the couch eating a yogurt. Bubbles had gone back to work around the house as if nothing strange had happened.

I wondered if she had performed the same intense hand job on her twin brother. I trust Georgie and if I had to pick a best friend in the world – he is it. We share everything including a room. Yet, I felt like I couldn’t talk to him about this. If I asked him to compare notes, I wasn’t sure what might happen.

What if I told him and he was outraged and thought I had gone too far? What if he got jealous of how she treated me in the bathroom? What If I got jealous of him? It might be better not to know what happened in the bathroom between him and my sisters.

No one noticed that Bubble’s wet pussy was a little wetter than the others. Freckles often had long strands of what looked like boy cum hanging from her pussy when she was told to hold a position naked.

My mom came home first. I assembled the girls in the living room at attention while Mom walked around before my dad came home. “You’ve done a good job, Lucas,” she said. She didn’t tell the girls they did a good job cleaning.

Mom withheld praise from them when she was punishing them. I knew that seems cruel, but it was intended to make them desire it more. She said that if they weren’t doing an exemplary job they would know, and they didn’t have to get a “Gold star on their pussy” anytime they did well.

“Were there any disciplinary issues today?” Mom asked rather pointedly. I told her that other than the mandatory spankings the committee behaved. Mom seemed pleasantly surprised.

“There was one thing,” I explained. I told her about Mr. Miller’s visit and how he wanted her to babysit.

“Not going to happen!” Mom didn’t even consider it. Buffy questioned her decision on principle. She had told me she didn’t want to babysit the boys but when mom rejected the idea right away suddenly Buffy wanted to babysit.

I would learn later that Buffy wants things until she gets them. Then she doesn’t want them anymore.

The opposite is true. Buffy does not want some things until she can’t have them. Then that is all she can think about, and she starts to obsess.

Naturally, just when you think you understand that she is going to change her mind. I was so wet behind the ears and confused about women – especially on how my sister Buffy processed the world. I expected women to think like I did – rationally and logically. “If you want (x) then say you want (x)”

Buffy’s logic was circular and confusing. She wanted (x) but only if (x) didn’t want her.

“You are on punishment, slut! You are not going to spend time over at Mr. Miller’s wearing clothes, putting on airs and answering to Lindsay while the rest of the committee gets punished and educated.”

“Fine, they can call me Buffalo Butts, and I’ll wear a thong, Ma’am!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” my mom dismissed what she said as a joke.

“I am serious, He’s in a jam and he said all of his other babysitters are flakes. He knows I am on punishment, and he said that at least he knows I’d be on time and behave because you are so strict!”

“Oh, I am sure he said all of that,” Mom rolled her eyes. I confirmed he really said that to her, and the others did as well. I didn’t say that he said she could behave like she had here at his house though.

“We’ll talk to your father about it, but if you want an answer right now, that answer is no,” Mom decided. “It will definitely cost you an extra day of punishment if you get a day off.”

“It would just be a half day, Ma’am,” Bubbles seemed polite about her request, but she was treading on thin ice by asking Mom after she made up her mind. We all knew that.

I was pleasantly surprised no one brought up the robot-death-match or whatever it was that happened in the hallway that afternoon. Mom didn’t seem interested in how lunch went or the details. She asked me if I had to tie them up and I thought she was kidding.

“If they start to act like they think their farts don’t stink, or they have special privileges, tie them up and let them stew for a while. There is rope and duct tape, and you know how the handcuffs work and where we keep the key. That is why we showed you. It’s a tool – don’t be afraid to use it.”

I nodded.

“We have some shopping to do, and we are going out to eat dinner. That means you cunts get to cover your filthy asses – but barely,” Mom insisted.

There was a very different vibe when my mom got home. Things had been very laid back and time seemed to be passing quickly. The girls had behaved, and I didn’t’ feel the need to bark at them or be a stickler.

Mom didn’t have to raise her voice, but the things she said were very caustic and sharply worded. Mom expected the committee to move when she said move. Her energy seemed to permeate the house, and everyone seemed tenser – perhaps more aware that this really was a punishment.

Mom didn’t waste time. She took the girls and picked out clothes so that when Dad got here, they could put them on at the door and load into the car in the backseat. She made the girls wait in the living room window in a squatting position with the windows open until my father got home. I felt a little nervous that someone walking by might see the girls and freak out.

“What do I do if someone sees the girls in the window?” I asked. I was already dressed in long pants to go out of the house.

“Nothing,” Mom shrugged. “They will either scowl or smile. You don’t have to do anything.”

“I mean if they freak out or something?” I clarified my question.

“Then they freak out. The girls are in their own house naked. If someone is looking in our windows that is on them. It’s not like I made them stand outside and sell Lemonade in the nude while people walk by,” Mom evoked a very provocative image. She snickered and seemed to consider what that would be like before asking me if I had more questions.

“What if they call the police or something?”

“That’s pretty unlikely. I’ve literally walked outside and caught a dirty old man peeping in our windows while jerking off. Several people have seen him, and the cops never came. If anyone reports three pretty teenage girls for showing their boobs in their window, then that’s on them.”

“We had our stereo stolen out of our car and it took three days for an officer to file a report. If someone actually does call the cops, and they actually come out, then text us and we’ll handle it. The girls will tell them what they should tell anyone who asks – they are being punished and they aren’t being abused. The Itty Bitty Titty Committee lost their privileges to clothes because they were sunbathing naked and showing off on vacation. They don’t’ even have to go through the laundry list of things they did. Your Dad and I will handle it.”

Mom reminded us that the manager of the campground where we were accepted their promise that they wouldn’t do it again and they simply shrugged and punished the girls for doing it again.

“If anyone asks, we’ll tell them the truth that we punish our girls for behaving like sluts. They got to CHOOSE how much they showed and how they behaved. Their punishment is we’ll choose it for them, and they will not like it. When we go out to eat tonight – that’s how it will be too. I am not going to have them pretend that they aren’t being punished.”

Mom made it very clear that she had a problem with that for two big reasons. One was the obvious fact that the girls were supposed to be embarrassed by their punishment and admitting it was a big part of that.

The other that I hadn’t considered was that if Mom and Dad had to pretend, they weren’t punishing the girls that meant they knew they should not be doing this.

My mother explained to me that while things had recently escalated in ways she never imagined, she had no problem with what was happening. The extreme nature of the girl’s behavior required an extreme response.

“It’s the same reason we’ve always spanked you guys in the living room right in front of each other. We have done nothing wrong – you have. If we have to take you in private or pretend we never spanked you then someone could assume that we are doing something that we shouldn’t have been doing and that isn’t the case.”

Mom had a couple of really good points there.

I mentioned how Dad liked to pretend that the girls did things they did not actually do in order to shock and thrill the park manager.

“There is a subtle difference,” Mom chose her words carefully. “We weren’t lying when we say that the girls did some things wrong, and they are being punished. We aren’t pretending none of this is happening because we are afraid Mr. Miller is going to think we are perverts. Okay?”

I nodded.

“There are times when it is kind of fun to roleplay. You know what that is?” she asked.

I knew about games like Dungeons and Dragons where you roleplay wizards and warriors.

Mom said it wasn’t quite like that. “We knew Patton was lying when he told us the girls did something wrong. We knew he was trying to come up with an excuse to get them punished. We were going to do that anyway for other reasons. We collectively played along with him so that he could get a thrill, and the real punishment was the girls got humiliated in front of Patton while having to tell him they were sorry for something he said they had done. It’s like a little game and a distraction. The point of the punishments is teach the girls a lesson and if these games didn’t hurt anyone else, made them happy and were not going to have any consequences then what was the harm?”

Mom explained that well and I felt I understood what she was saying.

“If we had made Patton believe that the girls were in love with him and played with his emotions, or we got him to give us money then we would have been as bad as the girls we are trying to punish. That is a good rule of thumb. Okay, Lucas? You are a good boy for asking. My advice is just stick to the truth.”

I felt a little guilty because I hadn’t told my mom about how intense the hand-jobs were, or about our wrestling games.

After she had that discussion with me in front of everyone, she confided in me that the windows had been treated with a special window coating designed to allow natural light to come in but not be fully transparent from the road.

“It’s true someone could see your sister’s boobs if they got within 10 feet of the house. Your father and I checked it from all angles on the road. The way they designed the living room to our house was intentionally to give us privacy while allowing light in. The geometry of the windows is curved out and the light is refracted through a clear tinting like an optical illusion. Your sisters look blurry in the window from a distance.”

I imagined a magician’s mirror. The mirror reflects light and tricks your eyes into seeing nothing on the other side.

“We can see out clear as crystal, but it’s more difficult to see in. Your sisters have obviously never stood at the road and looked in. Yes, there is a possibility they could be seen from the road but not very well. Let’s keep that between us.”

“What about what you said about honesty?” I asked.

She nodded. “You’ve got a fair point, and if you want to be the one to tell them that we’ve been making them stand naked in the window so that they think everyone can see in as well as they can see out – that’s up to you. At the cabin in Myrtle, we didn’t care who saw the girls. It was a beach and we saw quite a few topless women. We didn’t have to see those people again. We have to live here. This is a little like that roleplaying thing I told you about. Your father, me and you know that it isn’t really that risky. They don’t, but it scares them and makes them nervous. They need to feel that way for a while. No harm is being done. I told you because you are a member of the management now and you seemed genuinely worried about it. I didn’t want you to think we were irresponsible or that we’d really put you in danger. Okay?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

When Dad came home, he seemed perturbed. He didn’t ask all of the questions about the day or check the chores like Mom had done. He trusted that she had taken care of all that. He was more like the commanding general coming to visit the base and she was more like the captain who made sure the barracks were ready for inspection. I was like the cadet fresh out of the academy if you want to continue the metaphor.

His only question to me was “Have they asked for permission to masturbate today?”

“I ordered them to play with themselves earlier,” I said.

“Ordered?” Dad seemed surprised but not unhappy. “These little cunt-grabbers don’t normally need to be told they have to masturbate. Did they not want to play with themselves?”

“No, they did,” I said. Dad seemed to imply that masturbation was a form of reward for the girls. “Everybody plays with themselves. Anyone that says that they don’t is a liar.” Dad didn’t say anything more about it. He asked my mom if she was ready to go.

Mom told the girls to get dressed in what she had chosen for them. There wasn’t’ much for them to put on. Skin-tight tank tops, tight short-shorts, shoes.

“I thought they were going to ride naked?” he said.

“I was going to make them run to the end of the street and then we could pick them up at the entrance to the housing development?”

“Good idea, they can run back. Get in the car girls! Pop the tops, lose the shorts! Chop-chop!” Dad hurried my sisters into the car. Fortunately, we had a garage, and they didn’t have to walk through the yard naked to get to the driveway.

Our seating arrangements changed. Mom put the Itty-Bitty Titty Committee in the backseat where Lucas and I used to sit.

Me and my brother got to sit in the swivel chairs in the middle where Buffy and Bubbles got to sit. Mom and Dad got to sit up front as they normally did.

“Are you cunts leaking pussy juice all over my backseat?” Dad looked over his shoulder as he backed out. The girls said they couldn’t help it. “That’s the problem with open plumbing, Sir,” Buffy joked. Dad didn’t seem amused.

“What if they sat with their legs up?” I offered. Dad said he’d rather tie them up and leave them in the trunk and the only reason he didn’t was that getting them out when he arrived someplace would draw suspicion. He asked me to describe what I had in mind. He was distracted pulling out of the driveway and only seemed to be half listening.