Chapter 29

At first, I was planning to just tie her up and leave her that way while we went out and talked. However, the smug look on her face really rubbed me the wrong way.

“Go get the empty paint cans out of the garage! Chop-chop,” I clapped my hands abruptly to indicate I wanted her to hustle. The cans had been out there for months. Karen used to nag me a little about getting rid of them. I had intended to toss them, but I thought I could possibly use them for something if I could clean out the paint. They were perfectly good aluminum buckets!

She didn’t question me. She ran to the garage. When I told her to grab the duct tape and some cord, she grinned like she was looking forward to being tied up. I was intent on not leaving her with a smile on her face.

I had her stand flat-footed in the kitchen with her hands above her head. Then I secured the rope around her belly twice, through her legs, and around her arms. She gave me a sexy smile and almost purred.

“You told us a lot of lies over the years. You fucked all of my friends and kept it from me,” I said as I tightened the ropes binding my wife’s naked body. The kids watched me do it. I do not think any of them felt sorry for Karen’s predicament.

“I used to think sex with two guys was pretty exotic, but now that would be a slow night,” she chuckled. She sucked in and gave me a pained expression when I cinched the rope tightly around her belly and flicked her tits with my finger. It seemed like Karen had little remorse for her actions or the consequences.

I ignored it when she goaded me. I continued where I left off as I bound the rope to the ceiling lamp over the dining room table. It was fairly sturdy, and I didn’t intend to hang her from it. I just wanted to secure her in place.

“The biggest lie that you ever told wasn’t any of the shit that you confessed to. The biggest lie that you told us was that you wanted to set a good example for Gobbler. You just wanted to get your jollies,” I said as I began to tie her ankles to the legs of one of the sturdy kitchen chairs. “If you DO manage to wriggle out of this, and you aren’t ready to continue with this when we get home – I hope you just pack your shit and get out of here because I have half of a mind to kick you out and drop you off at the Interstate.”

“I’ll be here when you get back, and I DID want to be punished for what I did,” my wife sounded far more sincere and less jovial when I said I’d kick her out. “I just didn’t think you guys would understand if I confessed to it all.”

“WE do NOT, Understand, Mom!” Mandy folded her arms in front of her and seemed livid.

“Oh, pish-tosh, I hardly did anything to you compared to the others. I told you to act like a try-hard tease that was far too much trouble than you were worth so that I could bang a few young studs. Are you really angry about that?” my wife sounded less than remorseful about her behavior. It wasn’t like Karen at all to be this unapologetic and brazen. I saw a real dark side to my wife.

“There was more than one?” Mandy looked thoroughly betrayed.

“I can’t remember their names, honey. I might have banged your 3rd-grade teacher and a couple boys,” my wife shrugged.

“Mr. Peyton?” Mandy’s mouth hung open in shock. It seemed my daughter may have had a bit of an innocent crush on him based on her reaction.

“Oh yeah,” my wife smiled as if she were reliving that time with him. I tightened the rope around her tits snugly. “You can make me confess, or call them and apologize, or whatever you want. Will that help you forgive me?”

“I do not think we can forgive you until you actually act like you care about hurting us,” Steve said. Steve was not ordinarily a sensitive kid. He was happy-go-lucky and quick with a laugh. However, he looked pretty angry.

“I do feel bad about it, Steve,” My wife said in a less than convincing manner. “If I told you I was sorry, I doubt you would believe me, though – so I am proving it.” My wife sounded more sincere when she added that point.

“Yeah, and it’s not because you get a twisted thrill out of showing off?”

“I have to admit, some of what I am doing gets me excited, Steve. That’s why I asked you guys to stop constantly feeling sorry for me and throwing me a pity party or pissing on your dad for putting me in my place. I am willing to own up to what I did, and I am asking you to make sure that I don’t enjoy it. I know you know I am a liar – so you won’t believe words, but you will actions.”

“How about just not doing rotten things?” Edgar asked. He was a mama’s boy through and through. He doted on his mother, and yet, even Edgar was angry and disappointed with her.

“It’s a bit late for that; maybe when I am done being punished, we can start fresh,” my wife smiled at Edgar sweetly.

“How long will you do this for?” Edgar asked.

“Until every one of you thoroughly and completely forgives me,” my wife assured him.

“That might be a while,” Mandy assured her mother.

“Then you can take your time eating lunch. I’ll be a little tied up around the house,” my wife looked straight ahead.

I had a plan, though. I didn’t want to leave her just tied up. I tied a rope around the handles of two of the paint cans and then bound them to a rope looped around the base of her tits. The weight of the cans forced my wife’s nipples downward. She didn’t seem all that concerned until I filled both of the cans with water. The kids helped by bringing a glass of water at a time and pouring it into the paint buckets.

I would have hung the third bucket from her pussy lips, but I wasn’t sure how to keep it from falling off. Steve jokingly suggested using super glue.

Just the fact that he cracked that joke told me that the kids had a lot of unresolved anger about their mother’s behavior. I wasn’t sure if this would allow them to vent that anger or if it was going to make things worse.

I attached clothes pins to my wife’s clit and nipples. She had worn them before in the bedroom, but now she was wearing them in front of the kids. She hissed a little, but she was used to wearing this kind of pain.

No one felt sorry for her. I explained to her that I’d be doing this from now on around the house.

“It’s fine, Mike. I know I deserve it for everything I’ve done. Just don’t skin my pussy with a bowie knife,” she joked warmly to add some levity. Heather and my wife frequently did that when they were being humiliated or spanked to make it seem less scary.

No one seemed amused by her comment. I made her stick her ass out slightly, bend at the knees and arch her back. Then I attached two clothes pins to her pussy lips and tied those to the third paint bucket. I filled it with water and told her to stay like that until we came back. “If we return and you’ve stood up, the clothespins will pop off. Your hands are bound so that you can’t put them back on. I’ll know, and then I’ll make you wish I took a Bowie knife to your fat cunt!”

“Dad, can I write Mom’s name on her ass?” Mandy asked once I was certain I was leaving my wife uncomfortably exposed and very tightly bound. I shrugged.

My daughter took the magic marker, and I wrote “Lying Liar” on her mother’s ass cheek. I didn’t stop her when I realized she wasn’t writing Spunky. “Spunky doesn’t do justice to what you truly are,” Mandy seemed to despise her mother now.

Steve took the magic marker from his little sister’s hands and jokingly drew a pencil-thin mustache under my wife’s nose.

“She’s got to earn money later tonight,” I reminded him.

“It’s okay, Mike. I deserve it, and if anyone asks, I’ll say it’s to humiliate me,” my wife looked ashamed of herself. She was returning to her submissive, more passive attitude. I wasn’t sure how much of that was an act.

“No, you will say that you are being punished for lying! I’d ask the DJ to announce you as a lying cunt on stage if I thought they would do it.”

With that, we left my wife to lament and suffer quietly. I flipped off the light switch as I walked out of the house without even considering that I left her in the dark. I was certain after I did it, she probably found that to be humiliating.

I made Heather ride naked in the truck with the rest of us. She has a pair of black short-shorts, a gray tank top, and a red Hawaiian print shirt that hangs wide open and draws your eyes to her lovely tits.

Heather was about to say something snarky, but I told her to just shut up and sit quietly until she was spoken to. “I can’t handle another revelation that you were keeping something from us as well.”

“No, nothing like that, Daddy. Sorry,” Heather quietly put her head down.

I drove the kids to Culvers. It’s a nice fast-food joint with good cheeseburgers and milkshakes. “We can afford to eat out because the cunts are working almost every night.”

“Can we get a portion of that money?” Steve asked. I told him no right away.

We ordered, and first, everyone just went around the table and said how pissed off they were at their mom. Heather was the only quiet one. I let her dress but didn’t order any food for her. I told her to sit quietly with her hands flat on the table, and I’d decide if she could have something at the end.

The kids needed to vent about their mom. Heather probably did as well, but I wasn’t going to include her in the discussion. We were all stunned, blown away, and felt betrayed. None of us saw this coming today. We might not have believed her outlandishly villainous behavior if she hadn’t been so willing to be punished before it all began.

Heather politely asked to speak.

“Mom wants to be forgiven. She wants to forgive herself. She can’t unless you put her through hell.”

I knew that Heather was speaking from her own personal perspective, and that was probably part of her motivation for submitting to punishment.

I also knew she got off on her punishment, and so did her siblings.

It was making sense to me now. Karen was trying to assuage her guilt, and that was why she had volunteered abruptly when she first heard about this. We talked about the possibility of NOT letting her serve out her time around the house the way she wanted. We actually considered it might frustrate her if we never forgave her, and we couldn’t forgive her unless she served out her punishment.

Ultimately, we decided that we did love Karen, but we hated what she did, and we’d find it hard to forgive. None of us wanted to hold a grudge forever – but we certainly weren’t going to make it easier for her.

We began to talk about what would change around the house. I called them ground rules. I wasn’t going to do everything we did in the bedroom out in the common areas. I really didn’t see too much reason to change. My ground rules involved increasing the pain and humiliation around the house.

However, it became clear that the kids wanted to inflict misery upon their mother – all except for Edgar. It’s easy to say things when you are angry and the heat of the moment hasn’t fully passed. If I am being perfectly honest, most of their (and my) ideas did sound a little like revenge for how she hurt us.

My general rule of thumb was they could tell their mom to do anything they saw her do around the house. It made no sense to me any longer to insist that they limit themselves to just telling her to clean up their messes.

I was apprehensive about that trust, and my caveat was that if they abused it, then I’d take away their authority. I felt like I could use all the help I could get to keep their mother in line and said it would actually help me when I wasn’t home if they could keep an eye on her – and keep her in line.

I knew it would probably humiliate Karen if she had to obey them as she did me.

Edgar asked a simple question. “It feels like we are going to pick on Mom all the time. Is this just about doing mean stuff to her?”

I tried to explain that I still loved Karen, and I saw the new requirements as punishment and not simply being mean. “She brought this on herself.”

It was Heather who helped put it into perspective. She meekly asked permission to show him. “You know by now that I enjoy a good spanking. It can be really hot if delivered right. It might feel like a punishment to you, but to me, I get off on it.”

She had our attention.

“When Dad takes me out in public, he punishes me by focusing on things that he knows really bothers me. If I get positive attention, then I tend to like that too. I feel sexy and wanted. If he makes me feel like a dunce-cap-wearing, nitwit, then I start to regret whatever it is I did to deserve it.”

“What does he do to humiliate you? Just make you flash your tits? They are fantastic,” Mandy asked of her older sister. It was obvious that Mandy thought it was no big deal to Heather because her older sister was so hot anyway.

“Well, thank you, Mandy, and I’d probably say something shitty back to you like you have a flat chest that nobody wants to see, so it wouldn’t be anything for you to do either. When I first asked Dad to put me in my place, I kind of just liked it. I didn’t know why – but It really has made me consider how what I say makes other people feel because now I am on the receiving end. Yeah, I am pretty, and guys like looking at my tits, and Mom is hot too. Dad had to adjust the punishment to FIT us. If it was Steve showing off his studly chest, it might flatter him. Dad does make me show my tits, but it’s how he makes me do something that can make it feel like a punishment.”

“Yeah, a real punishment; some guy gets to look at your pretty knockers,” Mandy seemed unconvinced.

“If the guy gets to enjoy himself, that’s even better. I wouldn’t want to disgust them. I’ve honestly hated having to be naked at home because I know you roll your eyes at me when you see me bouncing around with my butt jiggling everywhere.”

Mandy didn’t argue that with her sister.

“In the past, showing my tits was up to me, and I’d only do it because it benefitted me or I wanted a thrill. Now, if Dad tells me to walk up to that guy at the counter and quack like a duck while offering to suck his cock then I HAVE to do it.”

“Quack like a duck!” Steve repeated the idea out loud with a bemused expression. I had made her do that one time. I thought it was silly at the time, but it embarrassed the hell out of Heather.

“Yeah, or queef to the sound of the music while I am dancing on stage, or tell someone that my name is Gobbler. It sounds funny at first, but when you HAVE to do it, and you actually start to give a shit what people might think about you – it starts to reinforce that you fucked up enough to be under someone else’s direction. I know it sounds weird, but until you actually give up control over yourself – you won’t miss it. You take a decision you make every day for granted.”

That was powerful.

“You take a decision you make every day for granted,” I repeated. I hadn’t even thought about it like that. “That was well said, Gobbler,” I complimented my daughter.

She frowned – the deal was I was not supposed to praise her. I apologized and said that now I feel bad about what I needed to do next. “Go up to that dorky cashier,” I pointed out a boy that wasn’t much older than Edgar. “Offer to suck his cock for an ice cream cone. If he agrees, offer to meet him behind the restaurant. You’ll wait out there squatting naked for 10 minutes one way or the other. One of us will come to get you and give you permission to put your clothes back on. Don’t swallow his cum until you are given permission.”

I told her that she gets to masturbate for 10 minutes on the ride home if she has cum on her face or in her mouth when we check on her.

“Thank you, Daddy!”

My daughter boldly walked over to the counter and chatted him up.

“You should have made her queef like a duck for him,” Steve joked as we watched her flirt successfully with the guy. He didn’t believe her, but from their body language, it looked like he was going to go for it.

Heather turned to us and winked after she finished talking to him. Then she walked out of the restaurant. The boy said something to his manager, presumably to ask to take his break. He then stepped into the kitchen area, where we assumed he’d go to meet her behind the restaurant.

I was kind of surprised at how readily the others accepted my daughter’s instructions. I had intentionally not allowed them to witness things like that because I didn’t think they could handle it – or perhaps I simply didn’t want to admit we were doing it.

They didn’t seem all that shocked that we had been up to it. I’d imagine they might have if the girls hadn’t been punished around the house for the last week.

“The key is that you don’t want to push TOO hard. If I make your sister constantly do the most extreme or outrageous, it will soon become the norm. I give her constant, tedious, small chores, and then sometimes, I save the more outrageous things for special occasions when she needs an attitude adjustment. That’s why I can’t leave your mom tied up like we did all the time at home.”

“Mom kind of deserves it,” Mandy observed. We were all feeling pretty upset with Karen – me, especially over her infidelity. It wasn’t the sex. I had proven I wasn’t jealous as long as it was at my direction. It was that she snuck around with guys that I KNEW and TRUSTED! They betrayed me as well. Many of those men have wives and families, and I know all of them!

“Are you kidding? Mom would probably love to swallow that kid’s jizz. Why do you think they call her Spunky?” Steve pointed out with a broad grin.

“Wait a minute,” Edgar finally connected the dots on his mother’s nickname. The look on his face was amusing as he realized that Spunky wasn’t chosen because his mother had a spirited attitude. “OH!!!”