Chapter 16

“Get on the floor and start licking our feet while your dinner cools; I don’t want you burning those cock sucking lips of yours,” I demanded.

“Can I ask a question, Sir?” Misty asked as she went down to the floor at our feet. She flattened her palms, stuck her ass up, and bent to my feet. I already had my shoes and socks off. “The all-the-time rules say that if I showed up to mealtime nude, I have to get spanked. Do the additional pet rules apply or just rules 1-7?”

“What does it matter if you are going to do everything we tell you anyway?” I kicked her titties a couple times lightly and made them bounce while Misty prostrated herself at my feet.

“It’s not me that I am asking about, Sir,” Misty began licking my toes without being told to start. “If there is a rule in there that you have to respect, like not calling me Mom while you spank my ass, I’d like to keep it.”

“You really want us to stop calling you Mom all the time?” I asked her. Misty stopped licking.

“No, I am still your mother. It just creeps me out when you say it while I am sucking your toes or trying to finger my ass,” she said.

“Mom, Mom, Mom, Mommy, Mom, Mama, Mom!” Trent started repeatedly trying to get Misty’s attention while speaking in an erudite British accent, like the baby Stewie Griffin on the cartoon Family Guy. It was something he used to do before this began as an inside joke.

The difference was that every time he said “Mom” he kicked my mom under her ass on her pussy, and she endured it with a snicker.

She sighed, “I’ll let you guys do it, but it reminds me I really shouldn’t be under the table like this,” she said.

I held up my hand to Trent and shook my head to let him know he should stop. “Sorry, Misty,” he apologized.

“You don’t have to quit kicking my pussy,” she giggled and shook her ass playfully like a target. Trent started up again and, this time, used the same voice but said, “Misty, Misty, Miss! Miss-Teee! Mista-Mist! Piss-tee!”

We laughed, and so did she.

I scribbled down an idea for a general rule that we could deal with;

If Misty is nude, it is preferable (but not required) to avoid calling her Mom. Any other name is fine. She is permitted to call the guys Sir and Hope Ma’am, but it is also not required unless she is a house pet.

We ate while taking turns playing with her ass as she sucked our toes. When she finished, I picked up her plate and squatted down to her while she was on all fours. I grabbed the back of her head abruptly and mashed her face into the place, making certain to get the lasagna and green beans all mixed together. I didn’t expect to get sauce and cheese in her hair. It looked kind of sexy.

“Sir!!” she made a face of disgust but didn’t get up. I mashed her face down again and told her to eat like the pig that she was. I did that two more times before setting it on the floor and told her to gobble it while we paddled her.

I stood over her while her face was stuck in a plate of cold lasagna and brought the paddle down hard on her ass. The swat forced her face down into the lasagna. Misty dutifully placed her palms flat on the tile and performed a half-push-up on her knees to lift her face a few inches from the plate and meekly count out that swat.

It was almost like she was reloading so that I could blast her again. My brothers took turns, and by the time we gave her thirty, there was more lasagna on her face and the floor than had ever reached her tummy.

I used the riding crop on her pussy slit for the next ten, and she seemed to like that. I directed her to use her fingers to wipe her face and eat it, and lick the little chunks of meat and noodles from the floor.

Misty looked so pathetic and craven with her long tongue extended to the tile floor.

“Nipples should be touching the tile; get low enough to the floor your nose is touching it and stick your ass up as high as you can! Spread those legs wider; I want to see that slit! Not just smell it!”

She laughed a deep belly laugh. That had particularly amused her. I sliced into her pussy right after with the riding crop, and that stopped her laughter. “Six, thank you, Sir!”

I noticed she thanked me for that one. It felt like I had just scored “bonus points” when she showed me gratitude for a proper spanking without being forced to do it. I found myself craving her approval and feeling a little competitive with my brothers to one-up them or do something a little different than they did.

Trent had established himself as a “Booty Man.” He intended to put two green beans that had flown off the plate into her butt. James and I stopped him. That didn’t seem particularly fair or nice. He settled for putting the broom handle up her ass. He greased it up with some cooking oil stuck it in her butt and fucked her with it -in and out.

“Oh, fuck! Please, no, please don’t! This isn’t spanking; this is for the weekend; oh, no, don’t do that,” Misty protested and arched her back while forgetting all about her food. She blushed, shut her eyes, and remained rigid while he fucked her ass for about three minutes with the tip of the broom- getting about four and a half inches into her bowels.

“Stick it in my pussy, Trent, Sir! This is turning me on TOO much, please. Don’t. It’s not fair! Don’t get me all revved up, fuck! No! no! no! no! Can I cum? Can I cum? PLEASE? Fuck! OWWEIEEEEEEEE!” Misty slid forward and collapsed over the lasagna while humping her hips up and down as if she were fucking an invisible lover while reaching behind herself and playing with her pussy.

“Should we stop her?” I asked the guys.

James and Trent were ambivalent about it. It was amusing. I poured a glass of tap water over her back and ass and said, “Cool off, Slut! You haven’t earned an orgasm! Who told you that you could have that?”

“I couldn’t help it, Sir! I didn’t mean to! I begged Trent to stop,” Misty pleaded. She looked very frustrated and miserable.

“Hey, if anybody cares where I am,” Hope stood up to excuse herself. “I’ll be up in my room with my door closed and locked, pleasuring myself because I can do that whenever I want without asking,” she snickered and sashayed out of the room.

“Please don’t punish me! I really did try not to be naughty and have dirty thoughts,” she begged.

“Only a wicked cunt like you would get turned on while having her dirty ass fucked by a broom while she lies face down in lasagna!”

I meant it to tease her. Misty giggled and nodded as if it was a badge of honor.

“I really never thought in a million years that would turn me on so much. Damnit it. I should NOT be doing that with you guys,” she turned around and sat on her butt on the floor at our feet in a casual position with her hands on her knees.

Trent offered the tip of the broom handle to her, and without telling her, she began to suck the handle clean after it had been in her ass.

“I don’t know how to follow that one,” James shrugged.

“Take your turn, Sir. I am going to stop following orders after this, so we can all sit down and talk without distractions,” she said politely.

I reminded her that she had to follow the general rules, but my mother was engrossed in lovingly trying to swallow almost six inches of broom handle. We were amazed by how deep she could take it down her throat.

“I think I ate about half of it. Can I clean this up real fast?” Misty asked as she began cleaning up her plate.

I wondered just how tightly I wanted to control her. My instinct was to spank her down to the floor and demand she wait for permission. I realized her request was more of a courtesy, and we were all new to this and just figuring it out.

I didn’t want this to devolve into just an excuse to be mean to my mother. I wanted her to know that we loved her even though this was the kinkiest thing I’d ever been involved in. I told her that.

“I love you too, and this is the kinkiest thing I’ve ever done! I have done a three-way with a guy and a girl and with two guys, but I thought that was maximum kinky! I can still feel that broom in my intestine.”

She seemed to enjoy the sensation but touched her lower abdomen on the side and seemed uncomfortable. “May I be excused to go poopy, please? I think Trent knocked something loose inside me, and it’s probably best if you let me get it out first,” she giggled at the raunchy nature of her humor.

“Yeah,” Trent and James said. They followed her to her bedroom.

Misty turned and asked them why they were following her.

“You can’t shut your doors, and you aren’t allowed to play with yourself. No privacy, so we are going to watch!”

“You don’t want to see this,” Misty assured them by covering her nose and making a face like she smelled something stinky.

“March! You have permission to poop, don’t make me forbid you!!” Trent half-giggled.

“You’ll be dancing like you were outside last week!” James broke out in a hysterical laugh while dancing like Pee-Wee Herman. He brought his knees in tight and made a silly face while imitating my mother, trying to prevent herself from pissing her jeans when we locked her out as a prank. I have to admit that was kind of funny.

She was stuck outside and yelling at us, threatening us, and now here she was aghast with her mouth open in shock.

“I HAVE To ask permission to poop? Even when I am not your pet?”

We had never really talked about anything like that. By coincidence, I had made a list of mundane things like blowdrying her hair, painting her nails, taking showers that I wanted to consider while she was a House Pet. Misty and Hope could disappear for hours and work on their appearance. I was thinking about how much time might be wasted and whether it was an indulgence she could earn or if I wanted to forbid it. I liked Misty with minimal make-up, sweaty hair messed up, raw, and earthy.

“Nope, not ask! Beg!!!” Trent pointed down at his feet playfully and lorded it over my terrified mother.

Misty looked at me silently as if begging for help, but she was already going down to her knees, clasping her hands. “I’ll beg while I am a house pet, but c’mon! I didn’t know I’d have to beg you every time I need to go pee or poop!!”

I genuinely think James and Trent were just teasing her and weren’t serious about it up until this point.

“You have constant house rules all the time, bitch,” James slapped her face with a dildo he had been carrying. “Beg, or I’ll send you out to the lawn, and you can drag your ass on the grass after that!”

“No, no, you can’t do that!!” she insisted he couldn’t do that to James. Then she looked right up at me on the floor and asked, “Can he?”

“I am not the only one who decides here; we all three own you, Misty; you wanted to be a pet and pets’ crap on the lawn!”

“Rule five, rule five! Please? Let me poop in the house? I’ll be good. I’ll be good, damn it, guys? Please? I am your pet! Not your slave!”

“You need more practice groveling,” James wasn’t impressed. He pinched Misty’s nose real hard while she begged him.

“I really need to go,” she was starting to get frantic.

“You don’t have any privacy, PISS-Tee; what are you?” Trent asked as he came around behind Misty while she knelt. He put his hand under her pussy.

“A human urinal and a slut, Sir! Please don’t play with my ass right now, Trent! You won’t like what comes out! We are in the living room! It’s going to get all over! Please, let me go in the bathroom!”

“I want to hear you beg to take a shit, like the toilet that you are!”

A small tear appeared and rolled down her cheek as she called herself a toilet and begged and pleaded like a whiny little girl instead of the strong, adult woman she truly was. I didn’t think she was acting either. If she was, it was Oscar-worthy. Misty seemed so vulnerable. “Let me take a shit; I’ll do it wherever the lawn! Okay? It’s dark out! It’s going to slide out!”

“Oh god, look at it! its crowning!” Trent laughed and pulled Misty’s ass cheeks apart. The dry tip of a chocolate-colored turd emerged from Misty’s asshole. I’ve never seen her face redder, the humiliation washed over her, and she begged and pleaded.

“Turtle it back in, and I’ll let you shit!” Trent held her butt apart.