Chapter 15

After my brothers and I were satisfied with my Mom’s performance, we sent her back to her room. We reminded Misty that, technically, she still belonged to us until we got to school. Trent squeezed her nose and slapped her ass as she rushed to get dressed. My Mom played a long and pretended to be a dutiful Pet, even yapping and barking a little.

It was apparent she didn’t take this all that seriously, despite having licked our feet and pretended to be a dog for us.

We were running behind, for school. I was hard as a rock, and everyone in the kitchen saw my boner sticking out of my underwear. I didn’t have time for modesty, though. I was surprised that when I returned downstairs, my Mom was ready for work.

My mother had cleverly applied make-up to blend her skin over her forehead to camouflage the word “SLUT”. You could still see it if you looked close enough. Hope our Mom by brushing her bangs in a manner that drew the eye away from the forehead. “I don’t want you to get fired,” Hope shrugged.

“Thanks, Hope,” Misty smiled. It was obvious she was wearing no bra at all. Her nipples were poking through the white dress she wore. Even more obvious was that she still had the collar on.

“Were you planning to go to work without a bra and still in your collar?” I laughed.

“Well, you still own me, and I didn’t take the tack out of my titty, so I thought I’d go without a bra today. I had almost forgotten about the collar,” she touched it, needing to feel the coolness of the steel to remember she even had it on.

“You can have it; I’ll give you the key,” Hope shrugged. “I never wore it anyway,” she said.

My Mom looked at her keys and fidgeted with the lock.

I grabbed the thin spaghetti straps on her shoulders and pulled them down around her arms and exposed her tits and slapped them. “Hope just gave you something, Misty! What do you say?”

“Thank you, Ma’am!” Misty exclaimed brightly while trying to remove the collar herself. “Oh, poopy! Sorry!” Misty immediately recognized she wasn’t supposed to say Ma’am and apologized. She bounced a little at the knee and stomped her foot as she did.

“It’s okay, I get it,” Hope shrugged it off. We didn’t have a lot to mess around.

“Your punishment is you have to drive to school topless! C’mon, you can go out the backdoor!” I grabbed her arm.

“I can’t get the collar off myself, Sir. Please take it off of me?”

“I should make you go to work just like this,” I insisted as I helped her get it off. It had a key in the back, but if you lost that key, it would be hard to take off because the steel band looked almost seamless.

Misty looked terrified when I dragged her to the door. She scanned the horizon of the backyard for neighbors. It was early in the morning, and no one was out, but she stubbornly insisted on checking before following me to the car. She hurried and hopped in the car.

She doesn’t park inside the garage because she has the table and all our stuff in there. We ran from the backyard around to the front driveway.

“I am not sure I am comfortable with you punishing me, Sir,” My Mom jumped into the car with a look of panic on her face. Our driveway is open to the street, so there was a moment where she wasn’t hidden by fences, and anyone could have seen her tits jiggle. She pulled the straps back up and covered her tits.

I pulled them back down, “Do it again, and I’ll make you ride nude! You still belong to us,” I insisted.

“What if we get pulled over on the way to school, Sir?” Misty asked nervously as she cautiously pulled out of the driveway onto our street. We live in a crowded suburb, so there were cars on the street, but no one was out walking nearby on the sidewalk. It would be possible for someone to see in the car, but they’d have to know to look.

Trent supported me by reaching up behind Misty’s face and stuffing his fingers in her nostrils.

“Okay, okay, don’t make me crash! But let’s talk about it tonight, okay?” she asked.

“You get punished constantly,” I shrugged it off.

“I don’t see it like that. Punishment is when you do something wrong. I did fuck up and call Hope Ma’am after she told me not to do it, and I forgot to say thank you for the collar. That’s on me, but driving topless? Doesn’t this violate rule five?”

Our Mom seemed so nervous as she reached the stop sign. No one was there, and she waited for an extra couple of seconds as if expecting a State Trooper to emerge from behind the bushes and arrest her for indecent exposure.

“Can I pull up my top now?”

James reached over, grabbed the pushpin and pulled her left nipple like taffy and stretched it. “Shut up, Misty!”

He pulled the pin out.

She was quiet as she got on the main road leading to our school. “Thank you, Sir,” she said. A small tear ran down her cheek.

I leaned forward and wiped it softly. Then I fed it to her and said, “You are doing fine, Misty. No one can see your precious boobs!”

She licked my finger. “I am worried we’ll get pulled over, Michael. How much longer? I can’t pull into your school like this.”

“Have you learned your lesson?”

“Don’t call Hope Ma’am, and express gratitude when I get a gift,” Misty said.

“Almost,” I reminded her that Hope said it was no big deal. “The punishment is for not showing gratitude AND not following instructions because you are a dumb titty-monster, and titty-monsters have to show their boobies to everyone,” I said as I squeezed her tits like I was trying to shoot milk out of them. Then I pulled up her top for her and sat back.

“Thank you, Sir,” she said calmly. We had a short ride to the school. When we got there, she asked, “So, you officially no longer own me until Friday?”

“You are a free whore, Mom, but you still have rules to follow at home!” I said as I kissed her goodbye. She kissed each of the kids, and we all called her Mom and bid her goodbye.

At school, I was once again obsessed with thoughts about the weekend. However, my mind kept going back to my time snuggling with her. Misty’s body warmth and the way it felt to fall asleep with my arm around her were intoxicating. I loved the way her butt crack felt against my body. The indent was so deep and pronounced, and her ass cheeks were nicely rounded.

The quiet time holding her while I listened to her breathing fascinated me. I tried to re-imagine it, but the memory was so fleeting that it was like a dream. The mental images and the sensations felt like a dream because it was so surreal to have ever imagined sharing a bed with my mother.

The things she confided in me were also confusing. At first, I thought she was being fairly ridiculous by suggesting that I might want to be her pet. I thought she may even be testing me to determine how committed I was to going forward with the rules.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I needed to consider her question from her perspective. In her eyes, the role of house pet is desirable. She must assume that other people WOULD like it if they tried it.

I was reminded of a Vegan girl I once met. I tried flirting with her, and all she talked about was industrial farms and animal abuse. She assumed that I would be passionate about the thing that she was passionate about because – why wouldn’t I be? All I could think about was how I’d feel giving up hamburgers and whether I could do it if she’d go out with me.

Misty’s suggestion wasn’t absurd to her. She assumed Trent may be particularly inclined to try it, and in the right circumstances, he might. The idea of playing Misty’s role held NO appeal to me. On a purely academic level, I tried to picture getting through a weekend ordeal. I could imagine doing it solely to understand better what works and what doesn’t and be able to appreciate how it felt to Misty.

When my brother poured piss down her throat, she definitely didn’t like it. The only way I could even come close to appreciating how disgusting and humiliating that must be to be in the same position myself. It was not possible for me to even imagine how it felt.

She held her mouth open for him to pour the rest in her mouth - almost like she was daring him to continue. Misty clearly didn’t like it, but she didn’t flinch (too much). I could also appreciate the amount of mental and physical fortitude it took to do that and to drive with a needle through her nipple.

I think the biggest draw for me to ever even consider assuming the role of house pet would be to understand why it makes her horny. She seemed to be baffled how being in charge could turn me on, and I was as equally in the dark as to how submitting as the house pet excited her.

The tables had turned at home in our relationship. My mother was the absolute authority figure. She’d never really been a hard-ass, but she wasn’t a pushover either. She knew bullshit when she heard it, and she was pragmatic when she needed to be and frivolous when she could be. She did believe in moderation, but she could also be really spontaneous.

What did this new relationship dynamic mean to any of that? I’d need a crystal ball. It was difficult to make rules now because I wasn’t sure what the dynamic SHOULD BE or how far my mother was truly willing to go.

At the same time, if we didn’t establish the rules now, it would be chaotic, and it was bound to end in hard feelings due to misunderstandings. I thought Trent feeding her piss might be the end of things. I thought stabbing the pushpins directly into the tips of her nipples might be as well.

Taken individually, extreme things like that may be ignored, and we could get away with it. How long before the weight of all of these things started adding up, and Misty snapped and said she wouldn’t do ANY of it?

I scribbled ideas in the margins of my notepad and reflected. I also scribbled questions. A lot of them were about mundane details during the weekend. Would we give her a break to shower? What if she was tired or had the flu? Should she be allowed to go out shopping?

It was strangely enjoyable to anticipate doing this long enough to find out.

The bigger question to me was what would the dynamic be at home when she wasn’t a house pet. I couldn’t wait to get home to find out.

I normally come straight home and play video games or look at porn. I spent an hour reading articles about BDSM relationships. I found some erotic stories that broached 24/7 relationships where the people live as Master and Slave permanently. I thought they were mostly in the realm of science fiction and implausible.

I couldn’t imagine maintaining that headspace of the Master or the Slave for seven days a week, even at your job. I thought a lot about my mother’s resistance to the idea of being punished this morning. Driving topless with very little chance of being caught was a small thing compared to sticking a needle in them.

I wondered if, in a real 24/7 relationship would, hard feelings emerge? Would they feel that some of the punishments were unfair? Perhaps withhold affection and attention as a response to what they consider unfair treatment?

I almost didn’t hear my mother’s car when she pulled in. I looked up and heard her scratching on the door. I took my time answering.

“Hello, Honey,” Misty kissed me on the lips platonically. Her tits rubbed against my shirt. She was naked except for heels and holding the dress she wore today. “Am I allowed to call you Honey?” she asked.

“It’s fine; I don’t want to be called Sir all the time,” I said as I took the dress and allowed her in. “Thank you,” she said as she walked in. Misty showed me through the window that there was a neighbor mowing his lawn behind us. There was very little chance she would have been seen. Misty smiled like she just saw a mama raccoon and her babies cross the yard. “That guy almost caught me!”

“I doubt that,” I replied calmly.

“So how does this work when I come home on weekdays?” she asked. I didn’t understand the question. “I have to get naked at the door, but I can wear clothes.”

I brushed her hair off of her brow and tugged one of her nipples while I thought about what she was really asking me.

“Oh yeah, all day I kept worrying if people would notice the big Slut on my forehead,” she giggled as if it was funny. She could have been fired, though, and I found it hard to be amused by something Doug had done to her.

“You can get dressed if you want, or you can put clothes on, but if you stay nude, then you are ALWAYS subject to rules one through seven,” I said.

She asked to see them while she stood in the kitchen. Her legs looked so sexy in those heels. Her calves really drew my eye when she stood with her feet together and read what I had so far.

RULES FOR ALWAYS – SEVEN DAYS A WEEK