Chapter 25

In the morning, my mother was up bright-eyed, and bushy tailed. She was excited, and chipper as she breezed around the kitchen, totally nude except for a green apron, heels and the collar. She had a few red marks from some slaps, but her bruising mainly was healed.

“Are you ready to get covered in welts, slaps, and bruises, Misty?” I asked as I walked in and popped her hard on the ass before taking my seat at the table.

“Ready, Ready, Ready, Freddy,” she cooed.

I wanted to smack the snot out of her for not saying “Yes, Sir” in response. I had grown used to hearing it enough that when she didn’t say it, it felt like she was denying me a simple pleasure. I knew it meant nothing to her and that she probably didn’t actually mean it – but it felt good to hear it.

Trent joined us. He had the riding crop that I bought for him (with my MONEY) the night before. He swished it in the air like one of the Three Musketeers slashing with a rapier and then hit his mother’s ass. “Step for me horsey,” he teased.

Misty raised her knees about waist high and marched in place while she cooked as he popped her butt and hit her under the thighs. The movement made her tits jiggle, but not nearly like the day before. “Neigh for me!”

“Wiiaaaahhhh,” Misty made a beastly noise that had no resemblance to a horse.

“We can practice this weekend,” he slid his finger in her asshole as she marched. She backed into his finger and wiggled on it while lifting her feet a little in a marching motion as she bent over the stove.

“Sure, if you want to,” Misty agreed.

“Outside?” Trent asked.

“What’s wrong with marching around in circles in here, Sir?”

“We won’t make you do it totally naked!” Trent assured her.

“You’ll get a little sun on your back and fresh air,” I added.

“I’ll get noticed by our neighbor, arrested by the cops for being crazy, and you’ll violate rule five, Sir,” she countered.

“What about for an indulgence?” I offered.

“I already have two, but maybe. I guess it depends on what you want me to wear and do. I just don’t know how I’d explain it to the neighbor if they happened to look in the yard.”

“Why explain it at all?” James asked as he joined us. “It’s your backyard. He shouldn’t be looking in here.”

James moved to honk my mother’s tits, which was his typical morning greeting lately.

Misty turned to let him and said she’d think about it. “In the house, I am much more okay with things like that.”

“What’s with the apron, Misty?” James joined us next. He wanted to grab her bare tits and instead, squeezed them through the apron like he was making orange juice.

“I get fry grease all over my boobs, and this makes it easier so that I don’t feel like I have to take a shower.”

“I thought you liked pain?” I reminded her that the sizzling hot oil was a form of pain.

“I guess I do, but not like that, Sir.”

Ah, there it was. Misty called me Sir. My morning brightened. I didn’t want her to know that I felt a sense of authority and confidence surge through me when she did that. It was just a word, after all, but it felt like she meant it when she said it just then. I was the “Sir,” and she was “Misty”.

The tables genuinely felt like they had turned in our family. Even Hope called my mother “Misty” and we almost never called her “Mom”. That had been her request initially, but now it just felt more normal to address my mother as “Misty”.

In fact, it felt much more normal to call her slut, whore, or cunt. There were other names we could have called her like bitch, fat-ass, asshole, cocksucker, cum slut, dicklicker, but it was much more rare. The more vulgar names like those just didn’t seem to fit the vibe of the situation.

Trent had started to call our mother “Piss-tee” and that nickname was starting to stick. He had a glass with him. He brought it to her to drink.

“You ever hear you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make her drink it?” she joked as she looked at the thick yellow liquid in the glass and turned her nose up at it.

“You ever heard about the human urinal named Piss-tee?” Trent felt comfortable enough to grab her by the back of her head and yank her hair hard. He pulled her back and poured piss all over her face and into her mouth as she struggled. When he released her, it had spilled on her apron, and looked uncomfortable.

“I would have drunk it, Sir,” Misty assured him as she wiped her mouth and brushed her apron with her fingers.

“But you didn’t, so now you are wearing my piss, slut. I should send you out on the patio as a punishment!”

“It is a general rule,” I pointed to rule 12 on the fridge “The guys may bring her cum or piss at any time in a glass or on a saucer, and she will eat or drink it.”

“Is that all the time?” she might have been playfully pretending to be an absent-minded bimbo or had generally forgotten that was a continuous rule. “Well, I was going to drink it, Sir. You just didn’t give me a chance,” she said as she finished the glass. “When I agreed to this, I didn’t think you pissed THIS much.”

“There are three of us, so it seems like a lot,” I assured her.

“You almost never make me drink your piss, but don’t forget I pretty much always drink my own now. It’s starting to be all I taste,” she said as she noticed Trent’s stray pubic hair in her mouth and pulled it out of her teeth. “Okay, so what is my punishment?”

“You have to suggest one that is appropriate?”

“I have to drink a glass of pee at every meal over the weekend?” she offered.

“You are going to have to do that, and our cum as well,” Trent chuckled. He looked ready to make her drink a full gallon of his piss if it was possible.

“Besides, you aren’t supposed to suggest punishments you WANT to do,” James reminded her.

“I am starting to wish I hadn’t agreed to that one,” she admitted. “We don’t have a lot of time for breakfast this morning before school. I guess ride naked and handcuffed to your school?”

“I think you like that, Misty,” I grinned sheepishly.

“I definitely don’t enjoy running to the car butt naked. I keep thinking one day that old man that lives next door is going to finally catch me!”

“Good, and then you won’t have to be afraid of that happening, because he’ll have seen your fat ass and jiggling tits and no longer be surprised you usually get in trouble before school and need punishment.”

Misty could have argued. Instead, she stuck her tongue playfully out at me and nodded. I thought the matter was solved. “Okay, what punishment would you prefer?”

“Eat on all fours outside like the pig you are, big ass facing their yard, face down in the dog dish I bought you and then CRAWL to the car and ride in the BACKSEAT with us.”

“Nobody is going to sit up front?” she seemed surprised. I thought about it, and it did seem a little cramped. I decided I’d sit up front.

“Wait a minute, I think we should make Misty jog behind the car slowly until we get to the first stop sign and then she can beg to be let in!” Trent suggested. “THEN she can ride naked to school in the backseat!”

“Run naked to the stop sign?” my mother asked in disbelief. That was far too extreme.

“Hang on, if we are assigning punishments,” James had his own idea as well. “We slather hot sauce on her pussy...” he was about to describe it when Hope cut him off.

“You guys don’t have to be so mean,” Hope interrupted. “All mom did was not want your piss shoved in her face this morning, and now you are competing to see who can come up with the most sadistic punishment?”

I was about to say something about how it wasn’t a competition, it was more of a collaboration. It was a very clever joke, and people would have laughed, but Hope shushed me. She actually shushed me into silence.

“I’ve never seen Mom be this into anything. She has been happy, and bouncy, and she fucking walks around here with her tits hanging out to amuse you, cleans, cooks, takes shit from you non-stop and all you can do is think of ways to make her life miserable after pouring actual piss down her apron?”

Misty was dumbfounded. “Thank you for standing up for me, Hope. I actually appreciate that more than I can tell you. I don’t see it as being mean. Guys, do you hate me?”

We shook our heads no.

“It’s just a game, and the rules of the game are on the fridge. I am a good sport, and I am not above admitting I broke the rule. I AM the house pet when I get home, tonight. That’s the deal. So, don’t be mad at them. There are times they get me so hot and bothered, and other times they get me screaming and frustrated, but I don’t take it personally. I don’t want anyone to resent each other.”

I was genuinely pleased with her response.

“I don’t hold any hard feelings about being punished, and I don’t want you to hold any hard feelings to them for doing what I agreed to do.”

“Did you agree to run behind the car completely naked?” Hope folds her arms stubbornly.

“No, ma’am, but I did agree to let the guys punish me if I broke the rules. I am just a little confused about who gets to decide what it is. They all want something different.”

I have to admit, I felt embarrassed that there was confusion. “You were told to suggest an appropriate punishment to help remind you that you are our dick licking urinal! So, your punishment will be you will drink THREE glasses of pee, and your own at every meal. If you can’t piss, then you will have your head dunked in the toilet until we feel you had enough toilet water to make you feel like you are in your natural habitat. Is that okay with you guys?”

The guys agreed, and I unzipped my pants in front of everyone and pissed in a glass. I pointed to my mother’s new dog dish and told her to piss in the pancakes she had cut up and put. She made a disgusted face.

“Don’t give me that face, you piss drinking whore. You love being treated like a little slut! You can’t wait for this weekend to unfold, can you?” I demanded as I grabbed her hair like Trent and poured it in her mouth.

“I can’t wait, Sir!” Misty genuinely sounded excited. This time, she was ready for it, opened her mouth wide and I poured almost ALL of it down her throat. James did the same thing.

We made Misty squat over her bowl and piss on her food before eating it on her hands and knees. We didn’t really have to make her. She squatted and pissed over her pancakes right in front of us while laughing a little about how she couldn’t believe she was really doing this. “This is going to be the grossest pancake syrup I’ve ever tasted!”

“We should wait until your pussy is dripping for an orgasm and have you squirt your pussy-honey all over your pancakes,” I threatened.

“You should,” was all she said about that as she blushed and dropped down on all fours behind the bowl. She rested on her elbows with her face down in the bowl. I could tell she was struggling with the taste. She said the smell was worse than the taste.

“It’s your pussy! I bet!” Trent joked that the smell from my mother’s pussy was worse than the taste.

“James liked it,” Misty teased my brother. James blushed and looked ashamed of himself. I was surprised that Misty could be so forgiving about that.

I would periodically make her suck my toe and tell her I’d make her start licking our assholes if she thought that a little piss in her food was bad.

Hope seemed frustrated by Misty’s acceptance of the situation. I believed that Hope was genuinely asking us to be more merciful or considerate, but mostly because she I think she saw us ganging up on Mom as us ganging up on the females of the house.

She went to clean up after breakfast and take a quick shower before getting dressed. When she came out, she said “Very funny guys. You can just come in my bathroom while I am showering. You didn’t scare me,” My mom insisted.

“We weren’t in your bathroom,” we shrugged. I was puzzled. I wasn’t sure what my mother was talking about.

“I heard you at my window trying to scare me,” she said. Then she shrugged and assumed it was a bird. It wasn’t that big of a deal to anyone. We sent her out the backdoor to meet us at the car. She sat in the front, but I sent her to the back seat to be my brother’s toy for the drive.

“Strip, Misty!” James said. Misty climbed in between them and wriggled out of the knee length dress and top she was wearing. She had almost forgotten to remove her collar before leaving the house. They helped her out of that while playing with her tits and poking her with their fingers.

I noticed that my sister was wearing a particularly offensive t-shirt that morning. She typically dressed a little goth with elements of lace, plaid, mesh, and leather. The base of her outfit was almost always some Doc Marten boots, a short skirt, and a black or dark purple t-shirt. The one she wore today said “Big Titty Goth Girl” in white gothic lettering.