Chapter 1

“Gah, OLD MAN BALLS ON THE LEFT!” my youngest daughter reacted with panicked giggles when we pulled into the gates of Dolphin Shores. She shouldn’t have been surprised. We had talked about moving to a kink-friendly nudist community in Florida for weeks.

Her shout was the first impression our new community would have of us! I was so embarrassed. The old gentleman was naked in his front yard. He was bent over, and his balls were quite long and droopy – I thought they were cute. He was setting up a birdhouse – like any normal person would it a clothed community. It was a beautiful, warm sunny day in Florida – there was nothing to freak out about.

Tiffany (my daughter that shouted) is often very hyper-active and quick to laugh and point. She is as naïve as she is pretty, and while she argues with her sister – she is the easiest of my four children to raise because she is the most like me.

“I told you this was a clothing-optional community about a million times, Tiffany,” my husband Pat sounded annoyed as he drove through the gate. We had been planning a move to Tampa, Florida, for months. The kids had been warned that Dolphin Shores was an “Alternative, kink-friendly, clothing-optional community,” and we had discussions about what that meant to them long before we moved.

“Well, he should have selected the CLOTHING option! Do your balls hang down like that, Daddy?” Casey, my eldest daughter, joked. This poor old man had no idea that my daughters were laughing about the length of his balls and the way his rather large penis drooped down. He was obliviously playing Botchi Ball with what appeared to be several friends his own age. He even waved at us with a friendly smile, and my husband tooted his horn back.

“This is going to take some getting used to for all of us. First impressions are important, though, and I want all of you to be on your best behavior. That means NO pointing and laughing!”

“SOME pointing?” Steve, my eldest quipped. He is actually my stepson and the oldest of the bunch. He has red hair, unlike the rest of us. We all have blonde hair.

“SOME laughing?” Mike, the youngest of the family, added in with a churlish grin.

“When we get to the house we are going to go over the new rules for EVERYONE,” Pat sighed. Everyone who knows him calls him Rabbit. It’s a nickname he got in school because he was good at cross-country track. I’ve got a tattoo on my right leg of a rabbit and one right next to my shaved cunt of a rabbit.

We’ve been married for 16 blissful years, and we were dating a few years before that. I’ve always been submissive, even before I knew that was the word for it. You may call it traditional gender roles, passive, or simply giving – but I always loved doing for others. Pat brought that out in me. He polished it and we formalized our relationship into a husband and wife, and Master and slave.

Moving to Dolphin Shores was about taking another step in that relationship – and really being open about it and not ashamed that even our kids know that Pat wears the pants in the family. I think that’s pretty obvious to anyone who knows us – but now it’s REALLY obvious.

“Trailer, don’t you mean when we get to the TRAILER, Dad?” Casey added sarcastically. Dolphin Shores is a gated trailer park just outside of Tampa – but it is a very upscale one, and the trailers are very nice.

“They don’t like it when you call them trailers. They are manufactured HOMES, darling,” Pat reminded his daughter. We were moving from a nice 5-bedroom brick house in Minnesota, and I knew all of the kids were disappointed that we’d be in much closer quarters. The single-wide MANUFACTURED home only had three bedrooms, and that meant Mike and Steve would have to share, and so would Casey and Tiffany.

“Why couldn’t we have moved to Paradise Lakes or Sunny Manor? Those brochures looked awesome,” Tiffany questioned. We had considered many other alternative communities before Pat settled on Dolphin Shores.

“The difference of about 500K to live in a fancy stucco house in Sunny Manor? Dolphin Shores is in our price range, and it is kink-friendly. Paradise Lakes is about our price range, and it’s a nudist resort, but it’s not kink-friendly.”

“That’s fine. I am not very kink-friendly either,” Casey joked. My kids were obviously not into BDSM, just me and my husband. They understood the dynamic that I was his slave and I wore a collar back home. We had discussed living much more openly as Master and Slave when we got to Florida, and the kids accepted it - they may not have fully understood it.

And stuck her pretty little nose up as we passed another couple. They were obviously two elderly gay men. One was in a leather vest, and assless chaps and the other was in a leather harness similar to one I own. The leather vested man was clearly leading the other on a chain as they both jogged.

“All kink-friendly means is that we don’t look down on other people’s kinks. You have friends in school that are transgender, and you hated it when they were banned from sports, right? Well, everyone is accepted here in Dolphin Shores.”

Casey rolled her eyes and reminded her father that the optimal word was “HAD” friends. “I am going to have to completely start over, and other kids are going to know I get off at the naked place bus stop.”

“Hey, you are just a Junior. Think about me? I was a varsity as a running back,” Steve complained.

“Casey, you are beautiful, smart, and funny. You will make friends quite easily. If anyone doesn’t like that you get off at the ‘naked place,’ well then FUCK THEM ALL TO HELL,” Pat assured his daughter that things would be fine. He reminded Steve that he was third-string and likely not to play all season. “You will have a chance to start fresh here. You may be the best player on the team. You were going to a Five Star High School in the middle of Minneapolis and competing with some of the best players in the city. You’ll be going to a small country high school out here.”

“Oh great, I can be king of the shit-dump, trailer park football players,” Steve joked. He knew better than to provoke his father too much. Steve knew when to stop joking, and this was the time.

Pat has only been married one other time, and that was right out of high school. His ex-wife is pretty much out of our lives and rarely sees the kids. When we started dating, Pat told me they had an interest in BDSM. He has always been assertive and the head of the household.

I embraced submission right away when he introduced it to me. It just felt right for me. We started like most couples with little tie-up games and spanking fantasies. We kept our sexual activities to the bedroom, and we didn’t allow things to overlap around the house – at least at first.

Over time, I began to call him “Sir” or even “Master” when the kids were around. It just felt right and natural. They giggled at first, but because they were young, they sort of accepted that it was a term of affection that only I can use for their father.

We were strictly monogamous at first. I don’t know when that changed exactly, but Master brought over one of his best friends. His friend was feeling down and depressed, and he told me to “take care of him.”

His friend Ricky loved how I massaged him, lovingly did his nails, brushed him, and doted on him. It only seemed natural that I would go down on him and give him the blowjob of his life. I used to be heavy, and when I was younger, I decided that if I could learn to deep-throat a man completely, it might compensate for the fact that I was a fatty.

I eventually lost the weight and kept the ass/tits that went along with it. That was mostly to Master Rabbit, putting me on a diet that was effective for me. I also kept the skills of an excellent cocksucker. It didn’t take long before Ricky was coming over every day for some TLC. Master Rabbit gave him a key, and he could come over anytime and use me.

It was Ricky who first put me in a cage. Pat had bought it for a dog that had passed away a few years earlier, and it sat in our basement unused. I got so hot and horny waiting in that cage that I begged Master Pat to start training me downstairs in the basement.

We would arrange entire weekends around sexual escapades and fantasies in the basement. He’d invite over friends, and sometimes they would roleplay as interrogators who were trying to break me and make me tell them a secret. Usually, they would just shut up and fuck – the shit out of me!!

The sexual component of our relationship was awesome, but there was something missing. That was when I came to Master with a list of 101 rules that I found on the Internet. They were pretty vague, and some of them were misspelled. I explained that I thought there was more to BDSM than just kinky sex.

That is when Master Pat proposed to me a second time. He didn’t propose marriage. We were already married. He proposed we live as Master and Slave full time. He was so delighted by what I said that he took it to heart. He threw away those 101 rules and wrote his own. We kept it in a three-ring binder that he organized by subject.

It was a comprehensive structure of day-to-day expectations, protocols, schedules, along with general rules, and punishments for failing to meet expectations. He also included positive reinforcement and treats for me, but to do that, he had to take away some things I was used to in order to let me have them back again.

As an example, I could no longer eat whatever I wanted when I wanted. I had to ask permission to have a snack or a drink of water outside of mealtimes. The kids knew this was required before we ever moved here. At first, they had a few giggles, but they got used to it because I always reinforced that it was my choice to ask for these rules.

“I enjoy guidance, and I enjoy service,” I would explain. I always made it clear that the rules were not a burden and that they were something that I wanted.

The justification at the time was that I was still losing weight and was very likely to put it back on when he was at work. There was nothing sexual about this requirement, so the kids knew. They could tell on me, and they were encouraged to do so. It stopped me from having temptations.

The non-sexual aspect of BDSM was very important to us. I like structure, and I LOVED waking up every day knowing exactly what was expected of me. Master would leave little notes for me and reward me for a job well done.

My husband liked to say that he had a plan for the likely and a philosophy for the unlikely.

It was probably six years ago when we were at the Smitten Kitten that things really took a new turn. The Smitten Kitten is a local kink store that sells all sorts of BDSM supplies. Ricky was with us, and I considered him almost like a second Master. I only had one OWNER, but I answered to Ricky like I did my husband.

We ran into some black guys on their way to a bachelor party one day when we were shopping there.

My husband talked to them and asked why they would pay for a stripper when I would entertain them for free. I was incredibly nervous. Ricky and Pat were both there as security, but they didn’t intervene or join in. I had to serve the entire crew of the bachelor party, and it was my first ‘gang bang’ experience.