Chapter 14

When I returned to the living room, Amanda had her iPhone playing a thumping bass song called “Hot Shit” by Cardi B through the Blue Tooth speakers in the living room.

Heather was twerking naked except for her chastity belt. She was standing up on the wooden coffee table in front of her siblings while they pretended to lavish her with imaginary one-dollar bills. She was shaking her ass, clapping her cheeks open and closed, and jiggling her tits slowly to the thumping beat.

My wife was watching aghast on the other side of the room.

I admired my daughter’s dancing and didn’t interrupt.

“Heather told us she is going to quit Hooters and be a stripper!” Amanda told me.

“I haven’t decided that yet,” I nodded. I planned to go back to the Booby Trap that night and see what it was like on the night shift.

“I think I am going to have to set a limit to play with your sister. You can give her as many simple instructions like get you a drink or bring your shoes as often as you like. If it’s going to be something like this, it should last no longer than 5 minutes. You have to wait 15 minutes before one of you can give her another task. Make sure you take turns, or at least ask each other if you have something for Heather to do. If not, she won’t get anything done.”

These five-minute tasks became known as “Performance Tasks,” although I do not remember which of us came up with that phrase.

“What if Heather has nothing to do, though? Do we really have to wait 15 minutes?” Steve seemed disappointed. I found it ironic that the kids had just been given a human toy they could make do just about anything they wanted, like a puppet on a string, and they found a way to be disappointed that they couldn’t use her constantly.

I thought about suggesting my wife dance, but given the dour expression on her face, I didn’t want to push things with her. I told the kids they could TAKE TURNS assigning their sister ‘performance tasks,’ and led my wife into the bedroom.

Once we were alone, I knelt down by her waist and began to unlock the chastity belt. I took extra care to unlock the plug in her ass.

“Did it hurt?” I asked.

“I got used to it. It’s like constantly having a finger up my butt. I was constantly aware that the belt was spreading my cheeks. The kids must have been disgusted by what they saw.”

“You said you’d do whatever Heather would do!” I reminded her playfully. I wanted her to cheer up and not be so serious.

“I don’t have the same gear that Heather is working with,” my wife touched her tits and indicated that they had a natural hang. As a woman in her forties, she looked really fine. I told her that, and she didn’t believe me.

“Whoops, no compliments,” I spanked my hand to show that I remembered the rules. She offered me a wintry smile and no comment. “What do you think of how the day went so far?”

“Cleaning the house naked? It’s fine,” my wife didn’t complain, and she didn’t even sound unhappy.

I should, however, explain something about my wife that many husbands may be able to relate to. If my wife says, “It’s fine,” and doesn’t sound unhappy – it is actually not fine. This is part of her passive-aggressive mannerism that can be annoying. I like it when people say what they mean.

“Are you regretting the decision to do this?” I asked. I didn’t have a word for what “this” really was. In Heather’s case, it was discipline and punishment that she asked for and seemed to enjoy on some level. It made her easier to be around and likable and all around easier to be around. It was kind of a win/win.

In my wife’s case, I had a bit of an enigma on my hands. She said that she could relate to my daughter’s desires, but they were obviously two different nuts to crack. Karen had been gung-ho this morning and all on board with sucking cock in a dirty glory hole. She had basically insisted that I put her into discipline, and so I told the kids that she should be Heather’s role model, and she was paying for how spoiled Heather had been.

Yet, I didn’t really believe that. Heather being Heather was mostly her fault. My wife and I probably made mistakes and enabled Heather, but I didn’t really believe that the fault lay with Karen or that she deserved punishment. I also wasn’t seeing her as much of a ‘role model’ because she was obedient but quiet and grumpy.

I chalked that up to the awkwardness of the situation. I licked her pussy right under the clit while kneeling to unlock her belt. It was dry and not soaked as it had been earlier. I rose up and tweaked her nipples and told her to shave her hairy cunt because “I do not like hair in my meals.”

“Am I still in slut mode or Mom mode?” She asked as she went into the bathroom and turned on the bathwater to prepare to shave.

“What does it matter? It’s just us now,” I said.

“I’d close the door if I am in Mom mode,” she replied.

“You are in slut mode. Get a bowl of water, squat in the bathroom, and shave your hairy cunt over a hand mirror.”

I had seen a girl do that once in a porn video online. My wife obediently turned off the bathwater and started to get out the things she’d need to shave that way.

“You seem a little sullen like you are not enjoying yourself,” I smiled at her as I prepared to watch my wife shave her pussy completely bald for the first time in 20 years of marriage. She trimmed, but this would be a first.

“It’s punishment. I am not supposed to be enjoying it. I am supposed to behave, obey, and serve.”

That was true, but I didn’t want my wife to look so grim about it all. “Did you mind standing while you ate?”

“Is that how we eat from now on?” she asked. I knew she was thinking about her standard operating procedures binder. That was actually a good sign. It meant that she wasn’t thinking about telling me to go to hell.

“I would like that, yes. I think it will build calf muscles and make you appreciate sitting down. I can always turn your ass rosy-red, so you won’t WANT to sit down,” I offered jovially.

My wife took my response quite seriously. She kept very focused on shaving her pussy. She had to pull her labia out and then shave all the wrinkles and curves quite carefully. She kept washing the razor in the bowl of warm water and looking up at me.

“When I am in mom mode, though, I can be seated, right?”

I didn’t answer her question right away. I suppose if I am being honest, I would say that’s my own passive-aggressive foible. I like to give myself a little time to think about my response, and if someone demands an immediate answer, then the answer is usually no. Karen knows that, but it drives her crazy sometimes.

“We’ve been married twenty years, and we seldom talk anymore because I’ve told you all of my stories. You told me all of your stories. There are not a lot of new things happening during the day outside of work. I pretty much know all your likes, dislikes, favorite restaurants, and all of your little foibles and habits. Today, you showed me a side of you that I could have never imagined in a million years of marriage. You have this wild side that I am still figuring out.”

“I could say the same about you, but I am really not wild. I wouldn’t have gone to the glory hole place by myself for fun. The fact that you took me there blew my mind. I can’t even stop thinking about it.”

I had been going to the glory hole with Heather for a week non-stop. It was a filthy place that didn’t seem all that shocking to me any longer. I hadn’t been the one putting dicks in my mouth, though. My wife had been there only hours before, and she probably was still processing it all. I assumed that was what was bothering her.

“Do you not want to go back?” I asked.

My wife sighed. “I feel guilty. I probably should have put up more of a resistance. You must think I really am a slut. You said suck, and I just started sucking like I was picking peaches in July – one after the other,” my wife pantomimed, holding two dicks and alternating putting them in her mouth while she puffed her cheeks out.

“You are a slut, and a cunt, with a BALD cunt now. I love it!”

“Really? You don’t think we’ve lost our marbles? I mean, who does this? I am parading around naked in front of my kids and sucking off strange men through a hole in a wall. Are we having a shared mid-life crisis?”

“Heather...” I started to blame the fact that I wouldn’t have even started this if not for the ministrations of my manipulative teenage daughter.

“Oh, I don’t want to hear that name. Can’t you call her something? Give her a new name? Heather, Heather, Heather,” my wife sounded a little sore about her daughter – perhaps envious or angry. It was hard to tell with women.

“Watch your tone with me, slut!” I warned her that she was getting a little too familiar and wasn’t showing me the proper respect.

My wife didn’t apologize and restate her words submissively the way that Heather usually did when I warned her to watch her tone. Instead, she changed the subject. “You know this would look a lot better if I could get a professional waxing. Do you mind if I try to schedule something?” she asked me as if we were having a very mundane conversation.

She was squatting naked, shaving her pussy, while I stood over her and spoke. I felt a sudden need to spank my wife and teach her a lesson she wouldn’t forget.

“I have spent the last 10 minutes trying to talk nicely to you,” I grabbed my wife’s arm and yanked her off the bathroom floor. She dropped the razor. There was still a little shaving cream on her pussy. “You have done nothing but be rude to me, and I think you are testing me, Cunt!”

My wife didn’t resist or try to struggle away. I grabbed a hairbrush and then put my arm around her body. I held her close and popped her ass hard with the back of it. “What mode are you in?”

“Slut mode!” she answered loudly, like a private responding to a drill sergeant in the military. I led her out to the living room. She didn’t kick or drag her feet, but she was a little reluctant. “I am completely naked. What about my belt!”

“You don’t get privacy, slut! Those little metal straps on your belt only hide a sliver of pussy. They aren’t there to protect your dignity. They are there to keep you from rubbing one out when I am not looking!”

I dragged my wife into the kitchen area and put her over my knee on the nearest chair I could find.

Heather was bee-bopping around the living room doing something silly to amuse her siblings. The four of them stopped what they were doing when they saw me plop Karen over my lap and start to pound her ass with the back of a hairbrush.

“Who is the boss?” I spanked her ass repeatedly and nice and hard.

“You are!” she didn’t count. I was spanking too fast. There was no time between swats for her to recover and respond. I was already spanking her butt two more times by the time she finished her response.

“Tell me why I am spanking you, slut!”

“My tone was rude, and I asked to waste money waxing my hairy pussy when I could just shave it,” she added.

I hadn’t thought about the angle that she was wasting money, but I liked that response. I didn’t relent. I spanked her bare ass on both cheeks and alternated. My wife ground her hips into me, and I could see her pussy lips getting wet.

“To answer your question from earlier, when you are in mom mode, you will ASK permission to sit down during meals, and I might allow it. Heather will be standing or down on the floor!”

I heard chuckles from around me. The kids had moved closer so they could watch this spectacle. It was too late to yell at them to clear off.

I heard Karen suck in air, and she grabbed the chair and squeezed hard with her fingers as she splayed her legs apart to allow the brush to pound her ass. “I thought Mom mode was back to normal.”

“There is no normal. Normal is a setting on a washing machine. You WILL be setting a good example for your daughter, EVEN during mom mode,” I said. I liked this back-and-forth during the spanking sessions. I was just free-styling and making it up as I went, but I didn’t regret anything I said or overthink it. “What good is a chastity belt if you don’t have it on all the time?”

“I didn’t know, I didn’t know,” she pleaded. Her ass was turning a cute shade of pink, and her butt jiggled nicely as the paddle rained down on her.

“You said you’d do anything Heather would do, but you want special privileges to sit on your big fat ass while she stands. How about I turn your ass red and see how much you want to sit on it?”

“Yes, please!” she begged. She humped my leg and reached back with one hand to touch herself. I swatted her hand with the brush, and she pulled away. “Sorry, sorry!”