Chapter 13

“Miss Casey, could we talk in private, please?” The request came out before I’d even properly thought it through. I should never have even asked in front of the others. “I umm ... have some chafing, and I was hoping you could help me with it?”

It wasn’t really a lie. It hurt that Casey didn’t think we could still do girl talk.

“You don’t need help with that in private, Jasmine,” Master said unhelpfully.

“I’m not putting lotion on Jasmine’s cooter in front of you all!” Casey came to my rescue. “C’mon, we’ll go in my room,” she said, immediately moving in that direction.

Since I was already standing in the kitchen working on the pans, I peeled off my rubber gloves, dropped to my hands and knees, and hurried after Casey, dragging my nipples across the floor like Master liked.

“Jeez, Mom, just get up and walk, okay?” Casey said from her bedroom doorway.

I hadn’t heard Casey call me mom in weeks, and it offset the tone of her voice. To me, she sounded more relieved than snarky, despite the actual words. I jumped to my feet, my boobs bouncing.

The bedroom door was barely closed behind me before Casey spoke. “I need you to be a mom for a minute, Mom. Do you remember how to do that?”

“Of course, Ms. Casey!” I agreed enthusiastically. Casey gave me the stink eye.

“Mom, please. Just fucking Casey or Cass for five fucking minutes, okay? This is important.”

“Sorry, Cass,” I said, knowing what she meant. If we were going to have a heart-to-heart, she wouldn’t call me Jasmine, and I wouldn’t call her “Miss” anything. I also had to put on my mom’s hat and get the ball rolling.

“So, about this Simon guy. Something you didn’t tell your dad. Something that’s bothering you. Spill,” I said how I’d spoken to her when she complained about cheerleading in Minnesota.

“He’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a guy, Mom! More than, and that’s the problem,” Casey admitted immediately. Her expression showed me that just thinking about him gave her butterflies.

I admitted my confusion with a resounding, “huh?”

It was clear she was into him. Was he not interested in her, maybe? That had to be it. I couldn’t understand how her saying a boy was everything she wanted in a boyfriend, and more was a bad thing unless it was unrequited.

“He’s not interested in you?” I asked stupidly.

“Mom. Seriously. Look at me,” Casey said, sliding her curled hands down her body from armpits to thighs just an inch outside her jeans and sweatshirt as if presenting herself as the main attraction at a fair.

She was asking me how he could possibly not be attracted to her. My daughter’s confidence and self-esteem certainly weren’t the problem.

“So, what is it? Is he married or something? This is Dolphin Shores. It could be his wife...”

“He’s not married, mom. His grandma ... She belongs to him.” Casey made a growling noise as if just saying that out loud irritated her.

“Oh. Like me ... and your father?” I asked, almost calling Pat Master.

But how? That was my thought. That was a fair way past kinky. A boy and his own grandmother? I hoped Granny was eighty and was decades past sex.

“Yeah,” she shrugged. “She even has one of those eternal collars. It’s gross. He says he likes me too, but he won’t ditch the nasty old pig to be with me.”

“Ah,” I said, really not knowing at all what to say. “It’s an eternity collar, not an eternal collar, Cass. It means she’s chosen to be a slave for life even if she’s past ... you know...”

“That’s just it. She’s not. And it gets worse. He’s fucking her almost every day. You know, like even in her butt. He was straight up about it and everything. Said she needed it. How can someone in their fifties still need sex, Mom?” Casey whined. “And she’s his own grandmother! It’s disgusting! How am I supposed to compete with that?”

“Well, he’s not the only boy in the world, Casey. You’ll be back in school soon, and there are plenty of other boys.”

“I don’t WANT any other boys! Simon is EVERYTHING I want in a guy. He’s sweet, patient, kind, smart, strong, determined, confident, can fix anything, and God, he’s fucking gorgeous! I almost creamed myself just talking to him! I. Don’t. Want. Another. Man.”

“But he’s not really single, honey. Even if you don’t agree with the idea that he ... he’s committed to the relationship he has with his grandmother, it doesn’t change that fact.”

“No! You’re not supposed to say that, Mom. You’re supposed to tell me how to get rid of the bitch so Simon can be all mine! That’s your job! You’re a slave, so you must know what’ll work. Do your fucking job, Jasmine!” Casey stomped her foot like a spoiled child.

Casey’s volume had increased until her last sentence was screamed.

“Casey! Lower your voice, please,” I begged in a whisper, trying to balance my place as the lowest member of the family with a need to calm my daughter down. I expected a knock on the door at any moment.

I felt even worse than than I had before. My daughter needed a mom but wanted someone to do her bidding - to make things the way she wanted them. She was treating me like her slave while acting like she needed advice.

As a mom, my job is to explain that we don’t always get what we want. As a slave, my job is to make the lives of others easier. I was caught between a rock and a hard place, but most importantly, I couldn’t stop being a mom first, and that’s why I needed to calm Casey down.

My instruction to my daughter was enough. She got a hold of herself as if she’d been slapped.

“I’m sorry, mom. But this is making me crazy,” she said in a quiet voice.

“Just tell me what you think you need, baby. Sometimes what we want isn’t what we need. Have you considered that?”

“I don’t care about psychological mumbo jumbo, Mom. I want Simon, period. Don’t you understand that? I want him to hold me, and I want him to fill that void I have inside. I want him to make love to me, Mom. With his rough, strong, big hands all over me, caressing me, making me feel sexy. We’ve only kissed twice, but I’d do so much more if he’d just get rid of the old hag. I want him to protect me, care for me, and keep me safe and secure from the big bad world out there. I’ve known this since I met him, and I know it’s only been two weeks, but I feel like I’ve known him for years. I just know, deep down inside, that together, nothing can stop us; nothing can get between us. Especially the old bitch.” Casey had tears in her eyes by the time she was done venting.

“I really do understand, Cass. Truly. What I was saying, though, is that there really is a difference between wants and needs. Take me, for example. I thought I wanted to be your father’s full-time submissive. I’ve tried it, and now I know this is what I need. My want BECAME my need.”

“Okay, fine. Mine will too, Casey declared.

I thought for a moment, then tried again. I had to tell her something she would not want to hear.

“As for you, you might WANT this Simon boy, but first, you NEED to stop being so selfish. His grandma was there first, no matter how you feel about their relationship.”

“HE WANTS ME TOO! He’s said so!”

“Yet he’s coming from a place of honesty, telling you up front that he has sex with a slave he owns and that he won’t get rid of her. Forget for a moment. It’s his gran, Casey. Is it your problem that she’s his slave or that she’s fucking what you think of as your man?”

That shut Casey up for a long time. So long that I wondered if she was even going to answer.

“You mean like jealousy? Could I really be jealous of someone thirty-something years older than me? Me? She LOOKS old, Mom. But she acts like ... like ... well, you, honestly. It’s sickening in a way. She just dotes on Simon like you do with Dad, except it’s sometimes sweet when you do it.”

“So, is that a yes or a no? Are you jealous?”

“I ... well, maybe a little, but now that I’m thinking about it, it seems silly to be.”

“So, if it’s silly to be jealous, does that shed new light on your problem?”

“Mom, you suck sometimes, and no, I don’t mean in that way,” she said, seeing me smirk. “Ew, I don’t even want to imagine that,” she couldn’t keep a giggle out of her voice now.

Crisis averted.

“What I meant was I don’t WANT to be one of those insecure, jealous women who don’t trust their man, and you suck for reminding me I nearly was.”

“Well, it’s up to you, Casey. I doubt your father will interfere as long as you don’t give him a reason to. Just remember, you’re still in high school. Even if you decide you want to pursue a relationship with this boy, please don’t forget there is a difference between wants and needs. You can’t know you need him until the excitement of getting what you want has worn off. So many people forget that these days.”

Casey rolled her eyes, but she was smiling now. “I’m gonna head over to Simon’s place. I guess I’ve got an apology to make. I was pretty harsh with him for not doing what I wanted. As for you, weren’t you supposed to have been stretching those titties of yours while we were talking? Bad cunt!” After staring daggers at me for a second, which I did believe she was serious, she laughed to show she was joking. “God, you’re easy!”

The following day was my “evaluation” day, and everyone in the family was excited for me. My daughters woke up early and took me to the lawn. My husband had a surprise for me – he and the boys had made a pony cart for me.

“Oh, thank you! Thank you!!” I cooed. It had my name Jasmine written on the side, and it was large enough for one person to sit in it. I could be harnessed into the front. There was a dildo-shaped peg that I had to sit on in order to be fully harnessed. I knelt and got it wet with my mouth and allowed them to harness me.

I pulled my husband to Grove Street while he strapped me with a thin leather whip and encouraged me to pull harder. The boys got a much better appreciation for how hard they could strike me when they escort me. My husband popped my ass cheeks and back with the whip very evenly and firmly.

We stopped by Bambi’s house, but the house was locked up. Her sisters had already escorted her to the community center with their father.

When we arrived at Grove Street, there were several nude slaves who had been ‘volunteered’ to set up the makeshift community viewing area. I had imagined a Roman Colosseum, but it was simply an empty grass field with a few decorated bleachers. There was a stand that provided water, lemonade, hot dogs, and gruel. There was another stand that sold beaded body art that could be worn.

There were already about sixty people there, with at least two hundred more expected. At least 60% of the people attending were nude or in fetish attire of some kind. “I feel over-dressed,” Pat said as he slipped off his shorts. He didn’t normally walk around naked and hadn’t been to the pool with the kids.

I admired his big fat cock and smiled. Tiffany was happy to undress, but the others remained naked.

Tawny, Karen, and Bambi were nude over in an area designated for us. I said my goodbyes and hugged my kids. They wished me luck, but Pat said I wouldn’t need it and he had faith in me. I was glad that he gave me the pony cart before the evaluation. It meant that he felt I was a slave no matter what happened today.

We were freshly shaved, given enemas, and hosed down in the slave area before the festivities.

Eddie stood on stage and made a long speech about consent, happiness, bondage, and boobs. He peppered his speech with several amusing jokes and said how proud he was of this ‘batch of slaves of Dolphin Shores”. He had a microphone that was shaped like a dildo. It was kind of campy and fun – not a big production. It was just a community of kink-friendly people that came together to recognize a few of their own for demonstrating that they wanted to be slaves.

He said it had to be hard – because it would take away the value if it wasn’t. That we were following in the tradition of all those men and women who came before us to earn our collars and that we had an obligation to behave as representatives of true submission in the greater BDSM community as well as Dolphin Shores.

One thing I had not truly understood was that once you are accepted as a slave in the community, that is your legal status.’ It’s not binding in a federal or local court of law, but as far as the people of Dolphin Shores are concerned – you are owned property.

It may sound like “second class” because you have fewer rights, but Eddie explained that they take pride in the community and their property. “We wouldn’t let someone vandalize our property – and while each of you is individually owned just like the homes – we look after each other’s property.”