Chapter 3

All day at school I was cranky. My friends asked me what was wrong with me. Of course I couldn’t tell them I’d slept badly because I kept having sick, sexy dreams of being naked in front of my brother and neighbor or that my mom had been, and stil was, living right next door as a naked, bald sex slave called Cunt.

Or that I was angry that my weakling dad had agreed it was okay for me to parade around the neighbor’s house in my birthday suit. I was so angry at dad that I’d even briefly considered going through with the idea just to pay dad back.

I was so distracted that I missed the first bus and that certainly didn’t help my mood. When I finally got home dad was already there, already had a drink and was doing some housework.

The pink page was not where I’d left it. I thought dad had done the right thing, read the rules and ripped the page up in a fit of anger. To be sure, I checked the trash. No pink paper.

Then a thought occurred to me.

“Where’s Rich?”

“He’s next door. He said you’d be joining him after you confirmed with Mr. Johnson. He left the number next to the phone.”

“What?!” I shouted in disbelief, but I was already headed to our hallway where the phone stand was. In the three seconds it took to get to the phone, I’d decided that Rich meant for me to call him at Mr. Johnson’s house so he’d know to somehow talk mom into going out to Mr. J’s backyard.

There was no pink page but there was a number written on the phone pad. I quickly dialed it. It rang a long time before it was answered.

“Is this the pussy or the slut?”

Those were the first words that came over the phone spoken by none other than Mr. Johnson himself. He clearly had caller ID. He just didn’t know if it was me or my dad who was calling.

“I need to speak to Rich, please, Mr. Johnson,” I said with gritted teeth, reminding myself that words were just words but I was winning by being polite.

“Not a great start, slut. I asked who I was speaking with. Sluts always answer questions first, before making requests. But I’ll let it slide because you’re not too bright, and you at least tried. I am surprised that Mr. Pussy signed your paper, though. I have to give him credit. At least he’s predictable.”

“Hold on! YOU have the signed page? The PINK page?” I asked, confused as to how that was possible.

“Come over right now,” Mr. Johnson said calmly while not answering my question. Then the line was disconnected. I looked at the phone for ages before hanging it up, as though it’d give me answers. All I got was the beeping signal reminding me to hang up the phone.

I didn’t want to go over there. No, scratch that. I REALLY didn’t want to, but mom was there, I had a million questions for her and something had gone wrong with my plan to meet Rich out back. Now Mr. J somehow had the freaking signed rules!

I considered ignoring Mr. J’s instruction. But if I did that, I might never get to see mom. It just wasn’t fair. Mr. J had to think both me and dad were okay agreeing to his rules even though my stupid dad hadn’t even looked at the paper and I had no desire to shed my clothes at Mr. Johnson’s door.

If I wanted to eventually spend time with mom, I’d have to go over there now, just to talk to Rich and find out why he thought giving Mr. J my signed page along with his, was a good idea. After spending almost all day angry and confused, this was NOT a great way to start my evening.

I was so distracted that I left my house and hurried over to Mr. Johnson’s front door, without putting my coat back on. I planned on speaking to Rich, not Mr. J, so I didn’t go back and get my coat. Anyway, I reasoned, it’d only take a minute or two, to get answers.

I knocked on the door, and was I ever surprised when my mom opened it! And she was still naked, too! I’d just automatically assumed she was a prisoner of sorts who Mr. J would never trust with keys to her ‘cell’ - the whole house was a jail to my way of thinking, not just the cage we’d first seen her in.

“Where’s your coat? Come inside,” mom said in that voice she uses when she’s not suggesting, she’s telling.

I went inside, and mom closed and locked the door, holding Mr. Johnson’s keys and waiting expectantly.

I bet she was expectanting the third degree and I was ready to give it to her. “Why did you abandon us, mom? And all this time you were right next door!”

“Rules, Erin. Fold your clothes neatly. There’s the chair.”

“Uh, sorry,” I said without thinking, while pulling my T-shirt out of the waistband of my jeans, then first one arm then the other through the arm holes the way I always do. My shirt was up and over my head before it really clicked that I was getting undressed. In my neighbor’s house.

I think it was because mom was already naked and it was just the two of us but it was also because mom had simply told me to strip in a way that invited no arguments the way mom always did. It was kind of reassuring.

“I can’t believe you are making me do this, Mom!” I whisper-chided my mother as I decided what to remove next.

“I’m not making you do anything. You asked your dad to sign the permission slip, then called my Master.”

“Didn’t! Rich left me the number to call. How was I to know he was already here?”

“Well you came over, didn’t you? And you’ve read the rules your dad signed. Rich said so, so you can’t really blame someone else for that. Anyway, that’s a pretty bra, Erin. I don’t remember getting it for you. Did your dad get it?” Mom asked, sounding a little surprised at the idea of dad buying me underwear.

The clasp of this bra is in the front and it was funny because I automatically reached behind my back first, as she was asking the question.

“You haven’t been around for three months to take me shopping, mom and there’s no way dad would. I ... borrowed it ... from a friend,” I said, not mentioning the friend was Victoria with her own secrets.

“Those piercings are new aren’t they? Did Mr. J get them for you?” I couldn’t help but ask sarcastically to hide my nervousness - I’d asked the question in an attempt to take the focus off me as I sprung the catch on the front of my bra causing the cups to drop away from each other, leaving a huge cleavage between my oversized breasts.

I’d always been uncomfortable having such huge breasts. They were heavy, always in the way and the focus of almost every guys’ eyes. Girls hated them too, thinking there was some sort of competition. I would happily have traded for smaller boobs with nipples that weren’t almost exactly the same color as the rest of the surrounding tissue.

“Yes he did. Do you really like them? I was ... nervous ... when I got them. I thought ... well nevermind. Do you want help with your jeans?”

I dropped my bra on top of my T-shirt. “Moooom. I’ve been dressing myself for years, remember? Anyway, those rings are huge! They’re like silver dollars stuck through your nipples,” I said, fumbling more than ever with my jeans button. My hands had begun to shake even though it was just me and mom. I had no idea why I was getting more and more nervous.

“Here, let me help you,” mom said, dropping to her knees in front of me which felt just wrong in the first place.

But then she reached for the button herself and I automatically tried to swat her hands away. Part of me acknowledged that mom had been standing for quite a long time and that was probably against Mr. Johnson’s rules too. Now she was trying to help me undress as if I was just a kid.

I realized mom was trying to distract me from the knowledge I was stripping in Mr. Johnson’s entryway and it was working, right up until Mr. Johnson spoke.

“What’s taking so long and where are my keys, Cunt?”

There was no pause between trying to swat mom’s hands away and trying to reach for my bra, only managing to knock both bra and shirt off the chair.

“Hey! I screamed simultaneously, like it was Mr. Johnson’s fault for peeping on me undressing.

I felt around the chair seat with one hand, covering my boobs with the other, trying to stop mom from unbuttoning and unzipping my jeans with a third hand I didn’t have - all while trying to glare at Mr. J and guilt him into looking away.

It didn’t work. None of it. I didn’t find my bra or shirt, mom got my jeans and panties off my hips, past my bubble butt, over my knees and to my ankles while Mr. J didn’t look away for a moment. In fact he smirked. Then to top it all off, Rich’s face appeared at the doorway to the living room. I stopped trying to fight mom so I could cover my bush.

I did try to do something stupid, though. My hands and arms were busy, so I tried to kick mom. I nearly fell on my butt and all I accomplished was letting my jeans get pulled all the way off one foot.

“Hey, sis, it took you long enough to get here. Where were you after school? Did you get detention or something?”

All this made me mad. Really mad. I kicked my other foot as though helping mom fully remove my jeans and panties, but my goal had been to kick her in the face. I decided right there and then that this was as much her fault as dad’s even if it was mostly dad’s fault.

Mom easily dodged the kick but took my jeans and panties away, tugging my panties apart from my jeans as if it was something she did while kneeling, all the time.

As soon as she had my jeans and panties separated, she spun on her knees and presented Mr. J with his keys.

“Sorry, Master. This slut is a little nervous and needed some help stripping,” she said to Mr. J as if it was just as much my fault as it was hers.

“Hey!” I said to mom. It was just wrong for her to call me a slut. I’m her daughter! And I didn’t intend to get naked when I came over here. But here we were. Me standing, trying to cover myself while Mr. J looked on practically drooling and Rich coming towards me as if my state of undress was just a totally normal thing.

“Present,” Mr. Johnson snapped.

Mom immediately straightened her back, dropped her chin, spread her legs further apart, and placed her hand’s palms up on her thighs.

It was kind of impressive how quickly she made the adjustments and although I was kind of off to the side of her, I could appreciate what she looked like to Mr. J and even Rich. Mom didn’t look anything like as scared as she’d been yesterday when she saw Rich and me for the first time.

I’d been playing that over and over in my mind since I’d first seen her and what I’d initially thought of as fear of Mr. Johnson yesterday, now seemed to have been more likely embarrassment that we’d witnessed her naked and in a cage.

Now, in her current position, she once again looked confident, sultry and sexy. It was as though some internal switch had been flipped and she had changed from the woman fearful that she was going to be punished for returning Mr. Johnson’s keys too slowly, to an attractive ... well ... to be honest, she looked like a slave who knew her charms were appreciated.

Just like she’d transformed yesterday, after hiding her eyes from us as if it would stop us seeing her. It was actually really interesting to see in person, and although I’d never admit it to anyone, kind of erotic.

I imagined myself in her place and I felt a shiver run through my privates despite having less than zero interest in Mr. Johnson or Rich seeing me like that. Unfortunately, my nipples weren’t so subtle. They immediately hardened.

“You too, slut. You’ve got exactly 10 seconds to copy Cunt or you’ll earn yourself a punishment. I was just explaining to Rich that sluts can’t be expected to learn anything without supervision plus thoughtful and careful training.”

Instead of simply caving, I held my ground. “I didn’t come here to strip naked and play your dirty games! I just came here to get Rich then mom answered the door. If you’d answered your own damn door you would have known that by now,” I tried to sound self assured and confident. I failed miserably.

“Five, four, three...” Instead of replying, Mr. J started counting down.

I had no idea what my punishment would be and I didn’t want to find out! I dropped to the floor, probably bruising my knees in the process and I was in an approximation of mom’s pose before he got to ‘one’. I breathed a mental sigh of relief although I was still far from pleased. I mean who’d let a total stranger look up into their open cooter? And I knew that mine was. I’d felt the dew between my legs lose its fight to hold my lips closed.

The worst part wasn’t even that. I berated myself for repeating to myself over and over in my head that I should have trimmed down there. It was kind of like being in a car wreck, wondering if you had clean panties on and knowing it was too late to worry about that now.

“Damn, Erin. Don’t you know how to use a razor?” That was said by, of all people, Rich. My little brother was critiquing my privates!

“Yeah, that’ll have to change. I won’t have sluts in my house shedding all over the floor,” Mr. J said to Rich, making them both laugh.

I couldn’t think of anything more humiliating than being talked about as if I wasn’t even there. I’d punched someone once for doing that. This time though, I was too scared to punch anyone. Especially as I was busy trying to mentally will-dry my pussy. I felt like I was lubing more and more each second I was in that humiliating pose.

“You don’t need to be bald next time you visit, slut, but that tree between your legs had better be pruned to bush-sized before you come through my door next time.”