Chapter 7

When Mr. J got back from letting the big man out, he made mom clean up the mess she’d made, and I had to help her. I was almost dry-heaving, but I knew it had to be done, and I didn’t for a moment think either Mr. J or Rich would volunteer.

I watched mom scrape her puke off the tile and into a bucket then I took the bucket to the sink and let the contents drain. It was so incredibly gross!

I did manage to ask her a couple questions while we were working together.

“You acted like you really liked that, mom, but it was so ... brutal!”

“I’m no longer your mom, slut. We’ve been over this. I’ll always be your biological mom, but I no longer have any parental authority over you and Rich. I gave that up when I came here. Please just call me, Cunt. You have to get used to it like I did,” she whispered.

Her request reminded me of a conversation we had once when I called Emily Baker a cunt for getting me in trouble with a teacher in fifth grade. Mom had been so mad that I’d used that word, saying there was no possible worse one. That’s why after that, I tried to never cuss.

Now she was asking me to call HER that. I guess in some way it was the same as how I needed to get used to my brother calling me slut. I wouldn’t mean it when I called my mom a cunt, not really, anyway.

I hoped Rich didn’t mean it when he called me slut, although I sometimes felt like he did. Those were usually at times when I was thrusting out my chest in a couple of the positions, I’d been learning but not enough to satisfy him. He’d tell me to stick my boobs out more and at the same time, whack my butt with the ruler to encourage me.

When he called me slut while we were just talking, he made the word sound special, like it was a pet name or something. I quite liked being called a slut then, because it was just between us. It was confusing and it’d be uncomfortable for a while, but I’d try to remember to always call mom, Cunt.

“Okay, Cunt.” I agreed. I couldn’t keep a completely straight face, though. It still seemed so naughty and wrong to call her that. I know I’d done it last time, but I’m just not big on cussing and no matter what I learned of her new life next door, she would always BE my mom. It was too late to undo that now.

“So did you like eating that guy’s cock? He was so mean and rough! He smacked your face with his dick!”

“That just helped him get it hard, slut. Don’t tell me a guy’s never done that with you?”

I hadn’t actually known my mom didn’t know I was still a virgin. I just assumed she’d think I was until she knew I wasn’t.

“None of the guys I know would’ve dared!” I said, which was true. No guy I knew would think it was okay to whip out his dick in the first place! “But you looked like puking on dick was your favorite thing! It was SO gross! I expected him to freak out.”

“He knew what he was doing. It’s what he wanted. I could have taken him without puking if I didn’t think he wanted me to. You just get to learn people when you’ve had as much practice as me.”

My mom the cocksucker. Skilled at puking when required and taking a nine inch cock down her throat when not. How did she learn that?

“Have you had a cock as big as that?” Mom asked.

“Cunt!” I hissed. It was easier to call her that when I was embarrassed and didn’t know what else to say.

Maybe that’s what happened with Rich too. He didn’t want to show his frustration with me, so he put his feelings into a word I had to get used to anyway. That seemed the most likely reason and it would be so like Rich to be thoughtful like that. He might be stupid, but he was stupid and thoughtful.

Anyway, I certainly hadn’t wanted to tell mom I’d never been in contact with a real dick so the easiest response was to call her a cunt and put all my emotion into it.

“Sorry, slut. Tell Master and he’ll punish me for being so forward,” mom quietly replied, sounding chastised.

I wasn’t sure if she was warning me not to tell Mr. J, asking me to, or just letting me know how Mr. J would react if I DID say something. What I really couldn’t decide was whether it was something she wanted or feared.

This was certainly not the mom I knew anymore, but I couldn’t really talk about my feelings while I was helping her clean up puke. I knew I’d get my chance once my hour was up.

Once the living room was cleaned and smelled faintly of Pinesol, Mr. J gave me a choice. I could either dust his home or learn more positions.

It wasn’t even a choice for me. Why would I want to dust!

Mr. Johnson shrugged and produced a feather duster. But it wasn’t a standard feather duster. It was connected to another of his gags!

This time mom didn’t go and spend time with Rich while I learned what Mr. J said would be another three positions. Her job was to dust the pictures on the walls, the ornaments that Mr. J had on cabinets and shelves around his house.

They looked dust-free to me, but Mr. J explained they only stayed dust free by getting constant attention. He said that while he was attaching wrist and ankle cuffs to mom so her hands could be bound behind her back and she could be hobbled. She seemed to accept the restraints like she’d been bound daily forever.

Rich was asked to observe while I learned the new positions. He looked longingly at mom for a second before he nodded and focused on me. I felt kind of bad for Rich. Last time he’d got to spend time with mom while I trained.

This time it looked like he wouldn’t get to spend one-on-one time with her at all because of me. It was new, feeling bad for Rich because of something I wanted, but I justified it by deciding that Mr. J treated guys differently than girls so if Rich wanted, he could have just said he wanted alone time with mom. He didn’t, so that was his bad and not my problem. It was actually kind of flattering.

The new positions were a whole new level of demeaning. I thought the Ready position had been about as humiliating as anything a woman could be subjected to until I was put into what Mr. J called a Side Tableau.

It was a variation on the Tableau position but instead of just being on hands and knees on the floor like I would be in the Tableau position with my boobs hanging under me and my knees tightly together, it was about balance.

Mr. J explained there was a third version of Tableau called Compact Tableau but he didn’t think I was capable of it because my boobs were too big so instead, he put me in Tableau position then had me spread my knees as far apart as I could.

I could feel my privates open in this position and I was sure my cheeks were no longer hiding my butt hole. Talk about embarrassing!

“Now lift your arms off the floor and interlace your fingers on your head,” he commanded.

I thought I was going to fall on my face! Still, I gingerly lifted first one hand then the other and interlaced them behind my head. Using my back muscles I was able to stay balanced on my lower legs but it was hard!

When Mr. J said I could sit back on my thighs a bit to adjust the “height” of the table, I was immediately grateful. It made a huge difference although keeping my back straight at any height was a bigger challenge than anything I’d done previously.

I spent a total of about twenty minutes just getting it right. Forget about being elegant with it! Mr. J was not impressed. He’d expected to teach me three positions and we’d only done one so far. He threatened to take however long it took to complete the three but Rich came to my rescue on a roundabout way.

“She’s just a dumb slut, Jim. Polishing a turd doesn’t stop it being a turd. It just takes her longer but she can do it and she’s clearly doing her best. If it takes more than an hour of intense effort, you can’t really hold it against her. It’s not like there won’t be a next time,” he assured Mr. J.

My brother had called me dumb, which was rich coming from Rich. He’d called me a turd which was just plain mean, but he’d also gotten me out of having to spend another whole hour doing this, so I was quietly grateful. I’d still have words to say to him when we got home, though!

“Okay, we’ll call this an hour then. But remember that you owe me eight minutes, slut. Anyway, I’ve got shit to do,” Mr. J told me.

I didn’t want to owe Mr. J anything. It’s why I’d agreed to his training in the first place. Knowing he had eight minutes, he could hold over my head wouldn’t work for me.

“I can practice transitions to the new positions for eight minutes if you want, Sir?” I asked politely.

“I told you I have shit to do, slut. Who’s going to supervise you? He asked, not expecting an answer. He said it as though it was just a fact that if he couldn’t supervise me, he didn’t want me doing anything to eat up my promised hour.

“Rich?” I replied quietly anyway.

Mr. J just laughed. “Yeah right. As if you’ll listen to anything ... how’d you put it? Yeah. Your ‘dumbass brother’ ... says?

He’d backed me into a corner with that statement. I could either promise I would, admit I already had or agree that I wouldn’t. I went with a shrug that made my boobs bounce.

That got me a little smile from Mr. J. Slut,” he said as if I’d lived up to the name he was calling me, but he let the idea drop, neither agreeing or refusing my suggestion.

As soon as he turned his back on me to check mom’s progress, Rich said to me, “Heel.”

I felt like a dog being ordered by its master, but I quickly crawled over to my little brother and knelt next to him anyway. Maybe Rich had another idea that Mr. J would accept? I was sure Rich knew I wouldn’t want to owe Mr. J eight minutes.

“Good slut,” Rich said in that voice of praise he uses when we’re alone. Want to do some transitions? I’ll watch you, okay, slut?”

Mr. J acted like he wasn’t hearing Rich talk, but I’m sure he did.

For the next eight minutes I transitioned from Pole Dance to Side Tableau, to Spoon, to Side Tableau, to Pres-sent, to Side Tableau, to Present, to Side Tableau, to Tableau, to Side Tableau then through the lot again.

I only stayed in each of the original five positions long enough to establish that I had clearly achieved the position then Rich gave the order for the next. I was still having difficulty with the Side Tableau because each time, Rich motioned me to kneel up higher and higher by tapping my butt.

It wasn’t a slap or anything, just a polite upward tap with his fingers on the crease where my thigh meets my butt cheek. Almost strumming my butt cheek, using one finger at a time but quite quickly. It felt really good and I didn’t mind it at all, even when he accidentally brushed my privates from behind a couple of times. I pretended not to notice, and may have even backed into it once or twice. I knew I shouldn’t but it was strangely as pleasurable as it was humiliating and annoying.

I found myself doing my absolute best for him despite how much my back began to hurt from using it to support my whole upper half without using my hands.

I almost collapsed at the end when Rich playfully swiped his hand between my legs, all the way from the top of my cooter to my butt hole in the back before giggling at his joke on me. I almost came on his hand and he had to have felt how wet I was.

“Hey, Cunt. You finished dusting yet? Slut’s done her time and now it’s your turn,” Rich called into the hallway where mom had gone as she worked her way through the house.

“Slut, I didn’t get time with Cunt today because I had to help you. Could we maybe share her this time?” He asked.

My green-eyed monster peeked out. I’d worked hard to get some one-on-one time with mom, and my little brother was trying to horn in on it now. I wanted to have some girl talk with mom, to understand everything that had led up to her disappearance three months ago, not to sit around with my dorky brother talking about video games or what he did in geometry or whatever, at school.

“Five minutes, squirt,” I reluctantly offered.

“Forty five! I gave up any chance with mom when you needed me,” he shot back.

I answered before I thought about what he said, increasing my offer to ten minutes. Then I realized what he’d said. I hadn’t asked him to help me! That was all Mr. J.

Still, it had made it easier to perform the humiliating poses with him there, keeping Mr. J in check.

I rolled my eyes but felt particularly magnanimous when I said, “Fifteen minutes, but no school talk!”

I figured I’d make up the time tomorrow when we came over again. It just really sucked that I could only get thirty minutes and I hated giving half of that precious time away for my dumb brother to share.

“Thanks, slut. I know how much having mom-time means to you too,” Rich said like he really meant it. I immediately felt bad for having argued about it in the first place. He really was a pretty good little brother.

Rich led the way to the spare room after mom finally reappeared from the hallway, wiping her mouth. Mr. J must have removed her feather gag.

“On your cheek, Cunt,” Rich said with a smile, making mom blush as she wiped first one cheek then the other before she realized Rich was joking and she didn’t have semen in her cheek at all.

I couldn’t help but giggle. Rich hadn’t actually SAID she had spooge on her cheek, he’d just inferred it, but we both understood it, and it WAS funny.

Even funnier was that mom had been face-fucked by a stranger right in front of us less than an hour earlier. She had no business blushing now!

“Just see if I tell YOU if I catch you with cum on your face some day,” mom said, but she was smiling. I giggled louder. As if THAT would ever happen!

We all went into the room and Rich closed the door behind us and then ordered us onto the bed. After we were comfortable, he sat down and snuggled up to the other side of mom like it didn’t make a lick of difference to him that she was naked or that his head was resting on her boob.