Chapter 4

It soon began to seem as if my wardrobe consisted almost entirely of spray-on sunscreen. I quickly learned to keep a can handy near every door.

I bought our groceries from our community Bodega and prepared all the meals. I started taking mine on the floor.

I usually ate whatever the family ate. I diced it up to make it easier. There were a lot of snickers and jokes at first, but my family quickly grew to accept it. Casey was the only one who continued to tease me after the first few days. I think the fact that I didn’t talk back took all the fun out of that for her.

It helped reinforce eating off the floor as perfectly normal: when we ate at Cheeks, other women were on the floor. I seldom saw a male submissive. They were sort of like unicorns in a field of horses. They were there, but it was hard to spot them. I assumed there might be one or two in the entire community. My daughters giggled anytime they noticed a man kneeling on the floor.

I felt a little bad for the guy. He probably didn’t expect two teenage girls to laugh at him for just doing what he was expected to do. I didn’t apologize for them, but I usually offered him a conciliatory glance from where I was on the floor at my husband’s feet under the table.

There were only a few times I was permitted to go to Main Street alone. I always asked for my husband’s permission. I didn’t mind being escorted by my husband at all - lots of collared women were accompanied by someone.

We once saw some girls being escorted by what appeared to be their sister. It was routine at Dolphin Shores, but it still took a little getting used to for me to think that I needed an escort.

The two pretty blondes were both wearing clothes, and only one was collared. They looked very similar in the face so I assumed they were all related. The girl leading them looked younger than them. It seemed strange, but the girls seemed to be enjoying themselves, and nobody bothered them.

One day, I needed some things from the store, and he sent me alone. I really didn’t think much of it. Some boys that couldn’t have been much older than Steve and Mike approached me.

“Noob slut!” they pointed when they saw me. I waved at them and tried to keep my head down and keep walking. “Stop when you are being spoken to, bitch!”

I was SO nervous. I just wanted to carry on my way, but I remembered the rules of the community. I stopped and looked at them. I was mortified that they would demand something I couldn’t or shouldn’t do. I think I was more afraid that I would screw up and break the rules. The last thing I wanted was for my Master to be disappointed in me.

“Egyptian,” one of them commanded me. I didn’t know what that meant at the time. I later learned it was a position that I should have known. He mocked me for my inability to execute it and told me to get into the doll position. Thankfully, he explained it so that I could understand.

The young man wanted me to lay flat on my back with my legs apart and my hands above my head. That wouldn’t have been so bad, except it was Florida-hot, and the ground was sizzling. I didn’t have shoes on, and that was bad enough. I did as I was told, and my skin started to crisp on the asphalt.

“Whose dumb cunt are you?” the youngest of the two boys asked who I belonged to. That was a personal question – It was so shocking to be talked to this way. I hate that I was dripping wet from all of the attention I was suddenly receiving. I was old enough to be their mother!

“I belong to Pat Johnson, Sir” I quickly blubbered my address so that he could speak with Pat about any misbehavior. I didn’t want to be on the hot pavement, but I also knew that the HOA rules required me to demonstrate obedience in public.

A large boy that I didn’t know approached them and scolded them for putting me on the ground. I would later learn that he was Tawny’s son. She was a woman that would be going through slave orientation with me.

“If you want to fuck with her, that’s fine, but this ground is hot!” he said.

“So? “one of the boys fired back.

“So, if you don’t want me to lay you out on the ground, I would strongly encourage you to tell her to stand up. You can get your kicks any way you want but be nice,” he said.

I would later discover that it wasn’t uncommon for boys to approach unescorted collared women. I was basically breaking the rules of the community. I didn’t realize it was that serious.

I was very thankful for his intervention, and the boys did permit me to get up. One of them had a tennis racket, and he smacked my butt as I walked to the store. He didn’t hit me hard, but he left marks on my ass. The other kicked me in the butt a few times from behind. “Cunt punt!”

The funny thing was that the huge football player that came to my rescue joined in teasing me after that. He didn’t mind pinching me or even touching my nipples as I walked. He just didn’t want me baking on the crispy Florida asphalt of Dolphin Shores.

“I hope you fellows had fun,” I said when I entered the Bodega. They didn’t respond. Instead, they ran off to get up to some other mischief. It was such a strange encounter that I didn’t even tell my husband about it when I got home. I was afraid he would go looking for the boys and bring a baseball bat.

Our kids were out of school for Spring break, so they had nothing to do except play at the pool. I suppose that is why there were so many kids their age out during the daytime.

My girls were usually on Tik Tok and the boys on video games back home in Minnesota. We were pleasantly surprised that they wanted to spend every day outside at the pool. The only holdout was Casey. She still hadn’t visited the pool or walked around our trailer naked. Her father definitely wasn’t going to push her into it.

The others rarely spent time in the trailer naked. However, they went to the pool almost every day, and they only brought a towel and sunscreen!

At night, my husband fucked me hard! I was so wet by the time we went to bed that I wanted to just jump on his dick and ride him all night. Our sex life was better than ever if that was possible. We had wild, passionate love-making sessions followed by training and after-care once he spanked me hard. That is my favorite part – snuggling with my master in a soft blanket as he wipes away my tears and brushes my hair with his hand.

However, once I finished all of my duties, I was no longer permitted to sleep with him. I moved my cage to the living room and set it up in the center. The kids knew they could let me out anytime they wanted something. If Master slept in, then I would get up and make breakfast for the kids when they let me out. He wasn’t due to start his new job, and we saw this as a second honeymoon. He even talked about having a kink-friendly wedding to renew our vows.

“I would love that, Master,” I was elated. The cage we have was created for a medium to large size dog. There is no room to stand up. I had to crawl in and remain on all fours or curl up to sleep. I think by the third or fourth day, Mike and Steve had seen enough of my open vagina to be able to draw a map of what it looked like by heart.

I felt bad at first my kids saw me caged or crawling, but they didn’t seem to mind. They knew this was the lifestyle we chose and accepted for what I was. They were also frequently busy at the pool, and as I understood, Steve was doing very well with the girl he met on the first day.

The anal training was embarrassing. My daughter Tiffany knew that I had three different size butt plugs. She asked me why I changed them during the day. “The plugs are like exercise weights. You can’t exercise only with heavy weights. Your father would probably have me exercise with just the biggest plug, but eventually, I’d get used to that. I use the smaller ones to make me appreciate just how big the BIG one really is,” I explained.

There was more to it than that. The plugs actually strengthened the muscles in my ass and around my pussy. It did stretch me out so that I could take bigger cocks, but it also made it so I could control the cock in my ass and squeeze it. I often sat on the living room floor and alternated plugs on my husband’s command.

I met some of our neighbors when I was out doing chores, but I had made few connections. The only person I spoke to regularly was Tawny. She was the BBW that we met at the Slave’s bathroom on the first day. She had just moved here with her husband and SIX kids, five of which were boys. She was looking forward to Eternity collar training with me. Her husband had signed her up when they arrived.

She had the number 269 written in marker on her tits. I wasn’t sure what that was a reference to, but it made her fat tits give the impression she was cattle ready for milking.

I was so excited to start the training. My husband was worried that I’d be nervous. I had some apprehension, but I was looking forward to being tested and judged. I have a secretly competitive nature, and I was looking forward to earning my eternity collar.

Unfortunately, the class was held on Grove Street at a recreation center. Master escorted me in the morning at 6am for my first day. I didn’t even get to make breakfast for the kids. Master said he would take care of everything. I thanked him profusely. I felt like my testing was going to impact the rest of the family, and that made me feel self-indulgent and selfish.

Master smiled, pulled my chin up so that I could look at him in the eyes, and gave me a great big kiss. He told me that I would make him proud. It was just the vote of confidence I needed to start my day!

The training was run by a woman named Pepper. She was short and had a very stout body. She wore a leather corset and had incredibly small boobs. Pepper’s arms were covered in a sleeve of mostly profane tattoos mixed with images of angels and devils fornicating. Her head was shaved on one side, and she flipped it over – which made her look very tough. She wore extremely high heels, but I think the fact that she was short made her seem intimidating.

Pepper is a pro-domme. There were quite a few living in Dolphin Shores, and they made their entire living taking in-call appointments with kink-minded gentlemen that didn’t live here. She apparently had several male submissives and possibly a Mistress of her own. She didn’t provide much background on herself.

She had one assistant. He couldn’t have been much older than my son Steve. His name is Master Tucker. Pepper was the only one in the class permitted to call him “Tucker,” and she often said it with a churlish grin and made it sound like “FUCKER”. I got the distinct impression they had a long history. Tucker said he grew up at Dolphin Shores when he introduced himself and, despite being young, seemed very worldly and experienced. He had a slight build and a constant sarcastic tone to his voice.

The first thing they did was weigh us and measure us. It felt like we were being herded a little like cattle. I have to admit - apprehension but excitement at how indifferent my trainers were to me.

This felt like something out of a sex scene in a porno! Or maybe a naughty fantasy I once had. It was entirely mundane to my trainers, though.

Tucker measured the width of our nipples and how long they were. He pulled our pussy lips until they were like a bat’s wing and measured how elastic they were. He even measured the roundness of our asshole. It was very intrusive, and I was incredibly self-conscious. Tucker acted like it was perfectly normal, and he didn’t wash his hands between girls. He told us we’d all be swapping spit, cum, and sweat by the end of the training, and we’d better get used to being touched.

They initially talked a little about consent, contracts, limits, and stretching them. I was prepared for just about everything or anything. They went over some boilerplate liabilities on what the sessions would involve and how it was all geared toward a final ‘evaluation’ when we would prove to the community (H.O.A) that we were collared slaves.

The basic idea was that we consented to this training, and we had to obey and accept them as Mistresses and Master for the training. They would only require everything on the training agenda, but they could punish or reward us, and this was a class that included sex. They also asked us if we were on birth control or had STDs, even though that information had all been required in the screening process to sign up for the class.

“You may hate me by the end of this class, but you WILL respect me,” Pepper insisted that she was not there to make friends with us.

There were only three other girls in the class with me. The first was my friend Tawny. Her eldest son had escorted him. She smiled at him and blew him a kiss as he walked away. He looked like he was destined for the NFL. He was 6’6 and had at least 250 lbs of pure muscle. Tawny was incredibly proud of her sons and bragged about them all the time.

The second was a woman about my age named Karen. She had short blonde hair and reminded me a little of Meridith Baxter Birney from the old TV show “Family Ties.” You know, the one with Alex P. Keaton? She argued with her husband when he arrived. “I don’t need this, Bernard,” she said.

“Karen, we talked about this already. You agreed to it. I’ve already paid for the tuition and the collar,” her husband countered politely.

“Yeah, but I changed my mind,” she sounded reluctant but not in a state of panic.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of you,” Pepper approached Karen to calm her down. That only made Karen more ansy. The two argued for a little while, but Karen ultimately decided to take the class. Karen rubbed me wrong almost instantly – I think she did that to a lot of people.

My final classmate was a red-headed spitfire named Bambi. She had a body built for speed. I couldn’t imagine she was much older than Casey. She had lovely green eyes, is dapple of freckles across her nose, and perfect dew-drop tits that jutted out on her chest. She looked like a professional model.

My husband wanted to stay to watch, but Pepper forbade it. She said they had problems in the past with Masters armchair coaching the slaves during this orientation and certification week.

“You will only make the students nervous. They are going to unlearn all the bad habits and learn good ones. I promise I’ll return your woman in one piece. She may be banged up, bruised, and have a sore cunt, but she’ll be better behaved and far more acceptable when we are done with her. Every night after class, she has two hours of homework where she will go over what she learned with you,” Pepper said.

I didn’t know there would be homework. I was excited and a little frightened. I think the other girls were as well. Bambi didn’t seem scared or nervous at all. She had a very intelligent look to her – like she had a lot to say and was far more than just a dumb bimbo. Yet, she seemed interested in becoming one. I noticed that right away.

Mistress Pepper warned us that the testing would bend us but wouldn’t break us. That was an important stipulation. We were free to leave at any time, but if we did, then we lost our deposit and could not return to the class that week. It was an automatic failure in the program. We could not miss a single day or even a single hour. She said the lessons for each day we’re focused on a central topic. She didn’t want us to focus on the future topics. “Today’s lessons are about protocol and behavior. You will learn the basics of service. You will learn to give up privileges that you may have taken for granted in the past. You will learn that by giving, you end up receiving!”

That all made perfect sense to me. I was happy to be there!

The first thing we do every morning when class begins is get clean - “Your spread cunts, semen-filled assholes, dirty faces, grungy legs, greasy hair - all clean and sparkling.”

She walked around and grabbed us roughly while examining our bodies and smelling us like we were ripe blocks of cheese.

“You dirty bitches may never be truly clean, but your bodies will be. You will be free of shit, cum, dirt, and general scum at all times. Is that understood?” Pepper asked us.

“Yes, Ma’am,” we answered in unison.

Tucker brought us outside to the front yard of the community center. Everyone in the community would be able to - watch us bathe ourselves. It was my first taste of humiliation of the morning. There was a constant reinforcement that privacy didn’t exist while I was in a session.

Occasionally, we did get spectators, but anyone Pepper knew was part of our family was not permitted to observe. Tawny’s kids were told to go home and not stick around to goof on their mother or make her nervous.

I was happy about that. I didn’t expect to see the kids on Grove Street anyway. It was exactly what Mr. Davidson had told us it was.

People sometimes had sex out in the open at times on Grove Street. I saw a man jerk off while watching a couple get their rocks off on a public bench nearby.

I also saw a woman drop to her knees and suck her husband’s dick in the middle of the street. At least, I assumed he was her husband. It was not a constant orgy, but no one else seemed surprised when it happened.

We weren’t the only spectacle on display – although I think the site of three women lined up naked definitely drew some stares. The community held these sessions frequently, and we were hardly the first ones to go through the collaring training and rituals.

It felt a little like a fantasy come to life, though. In my wildest dreams, I had never expected to be in a community and be able to be naked in public.

We were told by our instructors to shit and piss right on the lawn.

I was shown how to squat properly. It was exactly the way the woman had done it in the slave bathroom. I was to hold my ass cheeks apart while I kept my knees wide and squat deeply so that my asshole and cunt were visible. Tucker was not gentle. He used a leather strap to poke and prod me until I was holding the position properly and able to maintain my balance even if someone pushed me.

Tucker also ordered me to start and stop pissing on command- like a faucet. He didn’t explain why I had to learn to control my stream – I assumed it was to frustrate me and possibly test my patience.

When we finished, we bagged up our mess. The entire scenario made me laugh because I felt like we were playing Simon sez. It was a disciplined environment, but there were times Tucker and Pepper joked with us as well.

I wondered what Pat would think when I told him all about my first day.

“Jasmine, you seem to have a problem with this assignment already. Are you a dainty bitch who is too good to squat with the rest of the girls?”

“No, Ma’am,” I answered. We were in sort of a military head-space already with Pepper as the Drill Sergeant and Tucker as her assistant.