Chapter 11

“I thought you liked getting spanked?” I reminded my mother.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to be your slave. This sounds more and more like that’s what I am.”

“What if we considered you sort of a house pet? Like roleplaying?”

“Okay, and house pets are naked all the time. I can see what you are putting down,” my mom nodded. She took a bite of her food.

We sat down at the table, but I told her to stand up, and we’d feed her the rest of her food by hand. “we can spank you later. I want your full attention.”

“I don’t have a problem with being naked most of the time; I actually enjoy it. Can I ask a few questions first?” she asked. Naturally, she could. I was happy because it felt like my mother was bargaining with us and there was something fun about the back-and-forth exchange. “What if it’s like below 30 outside, and I am freezing my little nubbins off on the deck naked? I can’t ever just wear sweatpants on a chilly day?”

I liked that my mom was already imagining doing this months from now when it got cold. She could have just been trying to play devil’s advocate on why we couldn’t ALWAYS do things this way, but it was fun either way.

“Nope,” I smiled as I denied her concern. “You’ll have frosty nipples, and we’ll have to make sure not to leave you outside, and we’ve got a heater. If you get cold, you can ask us to slap your ass and that will warm you up!”

“I kind of liked it when it was my idea to stay naked after dinner or not,” Mom admitted as she considered whether she wanted to agree to this or not. She was clearly considering letting it no longer be an option to stay naked. “What if you tell me to put on clothes, and I don’t want to do it?”

That was a good question.

“You have to do it for your own good. You’ll wear what we tell you to wear!”

“I don’t mind that. I don’t like picking out my own clothes, anyway. Can I still wear this collar?”

“Yeah, I’ll give it to you,” Hope sounded mildly supportive. I was surprised. My mom smiled and thanked her.

“What If people come over, but you decide I can’t wear clothes, and I want to?”

“Do house pets know what is best for them?”

“No,” My mom looked sour because she understood where I was going with this logic.

“Then you will calmly explain that you aren’t wearing clothes, ask them if that bothers them, and bring it to our attention. We’ll handle it.”

Misty could have simply refused to do any of this at this point, but she continued to negotiate with me.

“What if you guys disagree on something? Trent wants one thing, and you want another?”

A GREAT question and one that I should have anticipated having an answer for.

“If we disagree, we’ll work it out amongst ourselves, but go with the last answer you got. You get to turn off your brain because you are the house pet.”

“Am I really your pet, though? Or is this just roleplay?”

“Do you want to be really the house pet?”

My mom stuck her finger in her mouth as if she was considering it. “House pets don’t worry about groceries, jobs, bills, money, getting you to the doctors, making sure you do your homework. Is being a house pet really an option?”

She had an excellent point. I didn’t answer.

“You guys like this now because it’s shiny and new, but like Doug, you might eventually decide to bail on it. You might get girlfriends and start dating. Are you really going to want to boss your mom around the house and feed me bites of Waffles for breakfast?” she asked as I fed her a piece of an Egg-O Waffle.

“Okay, okay, point taken, but could we roleplay for a while?” I asked.

“I’d love to, but are you sure we should do it all the time? Like now? Is this roleplaying, or are we taking a break trying to figure out what the necessary rules of engagement are?”

“I’d like it to be all the time,” I said.

“Yeah, but I have to work, grocery shop, and pay bills, real-life stuff. What if we just play on the weekends?”

We sat quietly. I wasn’t sure what to think about that.

“It’s the weekend. Is anyone going to spank my butt?” Mom broke the silence playfully.

I tied my mother up in the kitchen. Trent and James seemed interested, so I taught them some basic knots and used duct tape to keep my mom bent over the kitchen table with her ass and pussy fully exposed and her arms spread out to the edges. I bound her ankles to the table legs so that they were spread really far apart.

We took turns spanking her with the new paddle and riding crop, laughing and teasing her. I used a big wooden spoon and spanked her pussy over and over so until it made a wet “Putta-Putta-Putta” sound.

We tried gagging her with a Banana, but I found that I enjoyed her giggles, squeals and pleas for us to stop. I took a few pictures and let my mom see them. She admitted she really did have a very big anus.

I peeled another banana and pushed a little bit of the tip into my mother’s asshole.

“No, please. Don’t do that! Not that! don’t stick it in my butt, Michael.”

My mom’s pleas often had a light-hearted feel to them, even when we were rough with her. She’d break out in giggles or be half-smiling. There were times when she’d pant, scream, and her pleas to stop would seem more like begging for us to continue.

When things got intense, and we were spanking my mother hard or pulling her tits and really pinching the shit out of her, she’d squee like a stuck pig as if the pain was unbearable. There were times I thought I should actually stop, but we never did. We kept right on plucking, pinching, slapping, and usually, my mother would flop on the floor like a squirty fish and have an uncontrollable orgasm while moaning in agony.

This was different. She was more direct, demanding, and serious. Misty wasn’t yelling at the top of her lungs like she was being murdered, but she didn’t seem happy about it at all. “No, Michael! Stop! This has to stop,” my mom struggled.

I grabbed a handful of her hair, yanked her head back, and put my face next to hers. “I saw you sit on a foot-long dildo last night and love it up your dirty ass, whore! Take this banana like the dirty slut you are!”

“Oh god, no, Michael, don’t fuck with me, please! I’ll do it, untie me, and I’ll fuck myself for you, okay? Please? “Don’t,” my mom’s attitude shifted from sternly not having this to terrified.

“Did Doug’s friends fuck you up the ass last night?” I asked while slipping the tip of the banana further up her ass.

“Please, I thought we weren’t talking about Doug; please, Michael, stop!”

Hope got up and grabbed my arm and told me to knock it off. My brothers had both backed away. I was hard enough that my boner was visible in my jeans. Hope looked down at it and laughed at me like I was a dirty little pervert. I wanted to smack her for demeaning me. I realized that I had been caught up in the moment and stopped. I removed the banana.

“Thank you, Michael! Thank you! Oh fuck, please! You can play with my ass, but please don’t start shoving things up my butt! Please?”

I said nothing. I was ashamed of what I had done. I began to untie my mother.

“You don’t have to stop everything,” my mom pleaded politely for me to continue with everything else.

Still, I said nothing. My brothers watched as I unbound her.

“This is the kind of shit I was worried about,” Misty said as she rubbed the circulation back into her arms.

“Oh, you did?” I scowled.

“I thought things might escalate, and we’d go too far, do too much, and then someone would get hard feelings! I thought it might be me!”

“You knew that would happen, did you?” I asked. My feelings were hurt and knowing that my mom thought that might happen only made me feel worse about it. I felt like she didn’t trust me to be able to handle what we were doing.

“I didn’t know. It could have been anyone of us or all of us. That’s why I mentioned getting a girlfriend. Imagine how I might feel if I really was your house pet, and you get me all hopped up on doing this every day and then start ignoring me for some girl your own age? I wouldn’t blame you, but I’d probably get jealous!”

I was rolling up some of the cord to put it away. I stopped rolling it up when my mother said, “Jealous.” A whole plethora of fresh thoughts entered my mind. Up until this point, I assumed my mom was just satisfying some sexual fantasies and physical desires. It hadn’t occurred to me that she might actually get some emotional attachment or anything out of it that would make her feel possessive or jealous about me.

I had been ashamed of the jealous feelings I had about Doug. I was tempted to tell her that.

“I thought we had an understanding now,” I pointed to the fridge and the rules. “You fucked your mouth, pussy, and ass last night in front of all of us. Now, suddenly the tip of a Banana makes you cry like a little bitch. You said you wanted to do this on weekends only, and you want to be able to take breaks when we have people over. Now, suddenly you are worried I MAY get a girlfriend?”

“That’s a lot to unpack, Michael,” my mom sat on the table, spread her legs apart wide, and locked her legs around me to pull me closer. “First of all, I didn’t say I ONLY WANTED to do this on weekends. I said that I’ve got bills and responsibilities that make it kind of unrealistic to do it all the time. What I WANT to do is rarely what I GET to do,” she explained sagely.

I understood and respected that answer.

“Second, we have rules on the fridge that restrict ME and are for ME! But I told you guys you could do just about anything to me except for my face. Yet, all three of you have slapped me in the face several times. This is all new to all of us, but there are no real limits or boundaries. Rule 5 was also that this wasn’t supposed to extend outside of the house or to strangers, but you made it pretty clear that you might want to show me off to visitors!”

“What’s wrong with that? I’d warn them ahead of time what they might expect,” I said.

“No one wants to see my big fat ass and saggy boobs, Michael. You guys keep flattering me like I am this sexy beast and making me think I am hot shit and making me have all these dirty fantasies and thoughts. You said I couldn’t have sex with anyone other than who you chose, and I immediately began to wonder just how many men that might be and how you’d find them.”

That was a hot fantasy. I said nothing and let her continue.

“This is a dangerous fantasy because we have some rules that could lead to a misunderstanding, and things are clearly escalating to the point that you are sticking things up my ass. How long before you pull your pecker out and put that up my ass?”

I didn’t intend to do that.

“Don’t make a face like it’s impossible. You didn’t try to stick things up my butt until you saw me with the dildo last night. I don’t think you would have dared, but you did pull your cock out in front of me and start jerking it last week. Look at your dick right now,” Misty said. She seductively ran her hand across the outline of my boner in my jeans. “You shake up a bottle of Sprite for hours and hours, and eventually, it’s going to explode. How long before you are feeding me your cum? Or your cocks?”