Chapter 12

Brodie put me on the spot and expected me to correct his mother for her mess. I was inclined to give her a free pass because she didn’t know this was a rule. I decided to compromise – I wouldn’t do anything like spank her ass. I wasn’t ready to do that. Instead, I’d devise a more appropriate correction considering the offense.

“Then your correction for this unsightly mess is you must wear this disgusting ZZ top tank top to take me home,” I pointed to the tank top Rachel had just placed on an overloaded dirty hamper. My mom frequently called things an “unsightly mess,” even when they were barely disorganized. I sort of

channeled her style.

“That’s Jamey Johnson, Ma’am,” she plucked the tank top off the top of the pile.

“I don’t care who it is; his face doesn’t belong on your floor!” I almost called Rachel “Young Lady” because I was quoting something my mother would have said to me. I wasn’t talking to Rachel right then. I was role-playing my mother spoke to me. ““The correction will fit the crime, and you can think about how you present yourself while you wear that hideous shirt.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Rachel seemed delighted, almost amused.

“When I come back tomorrow, you’ll have made a dent in this clutter, and your laundry will not be overflowing,”

“Is this all I can wear, Ma’am?” Rachel asked as she pulled the tank top to see how elastic it was. It would definitely come down over her waist but not very far.

I had assumed that she’d wear appropriate pants and sandals. I really had not given it any thought. This was all entirely spontaneous. Given that Rachel had been delighted by the punishment but seemed a little nervous, that’s all she could wear – I made a snap decision.

It would have MORTIFIED me to be caught dead in that trashy tank top at school – and that’s with other clothing on. “You’ll cover your fat tits and big ass and be street legal. Do you have other trash on the floor that you want to wear to complete the ensemble?”

Oh god. How dare I say something like this to my girlfriend’s mom? How dare I have the audacity to take things that far. I had completely overstepped my bounds, and I knew it. I was roleplaying my mom’s way of throwing out empty threats but adding in the part about fat-tats and big-ass, and it was just – well, it was rude and mean.

Rachel got quiet, and she looked like she was simmering. “Do I have to get out of the truck at any time, Ma’am?”

“Are you worried someone would see you in that ugly shirt?”

Oh god, why was I saying that? That was SOO mean. Anna nearly lost her shit laughing, but she suppressed a giggle. Even Brodie found that amusing. Rachel, not so much.

“I happen to like Jamey Johnson. He’s an amazing singer, Ma’am. It’s just you have never given me a correction, and I was a little nervous.”

“Get outside, change like the dumb cunt you are into this piece of trash before I make you drive me home naked. Do you understand, Rachel?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Anna and I changed back into our school clothes, and all Rachel had to do was put on the tank top. It really didn’t cover as much as I thought it was going to cover. Her tits were covered except for her “side-boob,” which was visible. The hem of the tank top barely covered the tip of her pussy lips when she was standing, and part of the crack of her ass was visible.

“May I bring my purse? It has my license and credit card in it, Ma’am.”

“Yes, don’t be stupid, Rachel,” I was snippy.

Rachel seemed nervous to leave dressed as she was. Mr. Johnson wasn’t waiting for us when we left the house. We piled into the truck.

“It’s kind of a lame correction, but it’s a nice first try,” Brodie said as he sat next to me and took the window.

“Pull the tank top bottoms up so that your entire bare ass is touching the seat,” I insisted.

Rachel looked over at me in dismay. “I don’t want to get drippy all over my seat, Ma’am.”

“Is your fat-cunt dripping wet RIGHT NOW?”

“I am usually wet, Ma’am,” Rachel said.

“This is some kind of plastic or whatever,” I said of the synthetic leather. It was smooth and not very porous. “You can wipe it down after you get home.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Rachel hiked up her tank top so that her entire ass was stuck to the chair. She started the truck up and looked behind her to pull out of her driveway.

“You will naturally clean it the same way you clean your butt plug,” I said with slightly less confidence. I was pushing things. She knew what I meant.

Brodie found that amusing. I think Anna was waiting to see her mother’s response.

“Is this still a correction, Ma’am? Or what is this?” she asked.

“You don’t polish that plug after it’s been in your ash with a cloth rag. Why would you polish this chair after you dripped your pussy all over it?”

“Fair,” she admitted, that would be a new experience for her.

I had expended all of my courage and bravado for the evening. I needed to reflect on the experience of talking down to Anna’s mother. I felt like I just wanted to slink into my room and think.

However, we still had about a mile to go.

“We haven’t really left the house since Sunday to see how high protocol works,” Brodie snickered at his mother.

“It works the same as it always has, except that I must address my betters as Sir and Ma’am,” Rachel said.

“You are wearing nothing but a tank top,” he giggled fiendishly.

“It’s more than I’d wear at the beach, and I am being corrected by our house guest, Sir.”

“Oh yeah, that one bikini that you own? Now THAT would have been a real correction,” Brodie implied that Rachel owned an outrageously skimpy bikini that would have been far more humiliating to wear in public.

“If you are trying to say it isn’t enough for the offense, I am more just happy that Miss Susan felt concerned enough about the cleanliness of my room to offer constructive feedback. I appreciate it, Ma’am,” she looked at me and winked.

Rachel reached over to the radio and clicked it on to a country station.

I immediately clicked it back off. “No radio for you,” I said.

“That’ll teach her,” Brodie implied that I was not being strict enough.

I thought about making her stop the truck, maybe go inside a gas station and buy a banana and some condoms and flirt with some guys. I put myself in her shoes and thought about what kind of things would terrify me while humiliating me.

I did not want to spank Anna or her mom. I knew that they probably enjoyed it, and frankly, I doubted I could spank them hard enough for it to register. I felt like humiliation would be a better tool because it would be on me.

I also felt like they were virtually impervious to it at home. They had done all sorts of naughty things in their backyard, out in the open in front of their neighbor. I remembered how ashamed and nervous Anna had looked when Brody told her to take her butt plug out and show it to him when we walked home.

It was not the same face she made when she let her mother and brother sit on her back in front of her neighbor.

I didn’t want to push my luck, and frankly, I chickened out. I was already late getting home, and I felt I might be embarrassed just being seen with Rachel while she wore only a tank top.

“You’ll ride back the same way, and I expect Anna to snap a picture on her cell phone of you kneeling on the floorboard and cleaning your seat and then text it to me,” I added sternly when we neared my house. I assured Rachel that I’d delete it once I confirmed it.

“You don’t have to delete it, Ma’am. I am sure there are enough photos of me floating around the Internet. Hell, I am sure Mr. Johnson snapped a few today.”

Just like that, Rachel had agreed to my conditions without any negotiation.

“Good night, Miss Susan?” the two of them wished me goodnight. Brodie remained silent as I left the truck, but that was normal for him.

My mom was annoyed but not livid when I got home. “You were there awfully late,” she observed sternly.

Instead of quaking in fear and apologizing immediately to avoid any conflict like I normally would do, I studied her. I observed the way my mother arched her eyebrows angrily and glared at me. I noticed her body language, and not just the tone of her voice was what intimidated me.

My mother was a slight woman, and she’d have never physically spanked me – not that I ever gave her any reason to do so. However, she had other ways of making me afraid. It wasn’t fear of punishment. It was fear of disappointment. I did not want her to be mad at me – I wanted her to praise me.

I noticed that my mom withheld praise, and that was worse than being placed on restriction. My brother had been stood in the corner and had his mouth washed out for cussing when he was younger, but my parents were stern disciplinarians.

“I am sorry, Mom,” I spoke with the same placid serenity that Rachel did when she apologized. I offered no defense and instead accepted responsibility. “I should have texted you. Mrs. Fox was a little tied up at home,” I nearly laughed.

“That’s understandable, and you should have,” my mom instantly lost steam and didn’t glare at me. The funny thing was that I wanted her to continue. It wasn’t because I was a glutton for punishment. I just wanted to watch her and take notes for future interactions with Anna and her mother.

“I’d like to meet her. She seems like a really nice lady.”

“She is,” I replied. I added, “Actually, she said I could stop by after school and work with her daughter on her homework. Is that alright with you?”

My mom isn’t stupid or naïve. She suspected that I just wanted to hang out with my friend. She even told me that. “It’s fine if you really want to tutor her, but you can just be honest with me. Is there some boy there that you like?”

“No,” I said.

“Why do you have them stop three houses down and walk up, then? I see a boy let you out on the passenger side,” my mom was very observant and extremely clever.

“That’s Brodie. He’s Anna’s little brother,” I admitted.

“He doesn’t look THAT little. He’s as tall as you are,” she said.

I wanted to tell my mom that I REALY liked Anna and that she was my girlfriend. However, I was afraid of my mother’s disappointment if she found out I was a lesbian. She had never said anything negative about gay people – but she had never said anything supportive either.

Was I gay? I liked boys too. I just didn’t have any particular crushes, and none ever spoke to me at school.

“I do like to hang out with Anna,” I offered a half-confession.

“Why don’t you have a sleepover at our house this weekend?”

I panicked because my mother had never seen Anna, and she might freak out if she saw she was bald. I didn’t want to take the chance that she forbids me to see her.

“I’d rather spend the night at their house this weekend? Maybe even all weekend?”

“You can’t just invite yourself over to their house and overstay your welcome, Susan. You spent the night there, and I am sure her mother wants a break every now and then too. It’s only fair to offer to reciprocate. We can go apple picking or antiquing,” she said.