Chapter 5

My mother continued to walk the next hour around the house bottomless with just her shirt on and permitted us to casually slap her ass when she walked by. She didn’t intentionally walk by to test us. It just happened organically.

We had seen her in just a bra and panties and in a skimpy bikini, but we had never seen her casually walk around the house naked.

It was a simple, informal swat- usually a nice hard one. We were sort of testing her willingness to let us put a hard smack on her ass when she walked by. At first, it was a quick pop, and eventually, we were slapping hard enough to make her hiss a little. She never told us to stop or tried to defend her ass with her hand.

Every now and then, I pinched her butt, and when my brothers noticed, they began doing it as well. Misty may have appeared to regret opening Pandora’s box, but she let us pinch her bottom and didn’t tell us to stop.

I felt like she might regret telling us we could spank her and eventually say that she never agreed to be pinched. I felt like I needed to document the boundaries just in case she got angry with us one day for getting too close to her pussy or asshole with a stray slap.

I worked on the new informal “rules” as I understood them and presented them around dinner.

The first rule was simple (As far as I was concerned). I planned to post it on the fridge on a sticky note once everyone approved it, and I didn’t see a reason anyone would find it ambiguous or confusing.

1. We can casually spank Mom when we pass by at home, whether she is bottomless or not, and that includes pinching or poking. No reason is necessary, and Mom can’t say no/we won’t be in trouble.

“I didn’t say I can’t say no; I said you don’t have to ask,” Mom clarified the rule’s intent (as she understood it). She remained calm and slightly amused that I had gone to this much trouble for a silly request.

“Same thing, isn’t it?” I replied.

“What’s the other rule?” she asked without pressing the issue. It seemed like she realized that not being able to say no means that we never have to ask first.

2. Mom is to take off her bottoms at every meal and offer her ass to each boy at the table. She must count out 10 swats before moving on to the next one. She must continue around the table until everyone finishes eating, and she can’t say no to this.

“That’s not exactly what I had in mind,” Misty seemed surprised at the inclusion but not entirely opposed to it. “You also didn’t stipulate anything about no insertions,” Mom observed.

She asked the others if they were okay with the rule. I offered to rewrite it for her, but she didn’t tell me that I had to rewrite it. She just wanted me to know that it seemed like I should clarify. She did have one more request. I was surprised that she was willing to agree to the second rule at all, and I was really curious about what she’d want to add.

“I am your Mom, and I’ll always be your mom, but it is kind of creepy to read ‘Mom can’t say no.’ Can you change the way the rules read to refer to me as Misty?

“Can WE call you Misty?”

“I don’t know, maybe during spankings,” Mom decided. She had only intended for the rules to say her name. It may have seemed like a silly game at first. It wasn’t intentional on my part, but I felt like the written rules normalized and formalized it into reality.

I sat down and rewrote the rules while my brothers smacked my mom’s butt more rapidly as she stood around the kitchen. She ignored them for the most part and tried to go about managing things in the kitchen. “Guys, I am trying to organize the cupboard,” she giggled playfully.

The amended rules were as follows:

1. We can casually spank Misty when we pass by at home, whether she is bottomless or not, and that includes pinching or poking. No reason is necessary, and Misty can’t say no.

2. Misty is to take off her bottoms at every meal and offer her ass to each boy at the table. She must count out 10 swats before moving on to the next one. She must continue around the table until everyone finishes eating, and she can’t say no to this.

Spoons (kitchen utensils) and hands are acceptable for spanking, but nothing can be inserted into the a-hole or pussy,

“What about flicking?” Trent asked once I laid out the new rules.

“I’d really rather you not, Trent. When I was tied up, I wasn’t tempted to slug you.”

“You’d rather I don’t, but you’d let me do it?” Trent was smirking as if he was half-joking.

“Rule one says you can poke, pinch, or twist, the same stuff you did to me while I was tied up as long as you don’t put something in a hole. I didn’t write it. I am not going to sweat the details. If you want to flick my butt when I walk past, I am not going to stop you, but I might be tempted to lay you out flat on the floor,” Mom joked.

She thanked me for writing down the rules and told us to have a seat in the living room. Hope was lurking around listening, but she was really talking to us. I think my mom hadn’t intended for there to be anything written, but she could appreciate everyone sharing a common understanding of the ground rules.

“Let’s try these rules, and if anything makes you uncomfortable, let’s talk about it, and we’ll update them, okay?”

We all nodded. I liked that we were building a dynamic relationship or understanding of limits and boundaries. It was exciting.

“I have a favor to ask you,” Mom decided. It was obvious that now that she had these rules, she felt she had to discuss something. I was hoping it was that she wanted more sessions with us in the garage, but I was about to be made aware that she had been thinking about something else.

“I have decided that I am going to try to find a fuck buddy to tie me up out in the garage. I have a couple of old friends that I think would be up for it. When they come over, I need you to suspend the rules, and can we agree not to tell this guy and freak him out?”

“It will come out if he marries you,” Hope offered from across the room like an annoying smart-ass.

“This isn’t going to be the marrying kind of guy. I am just looking for a guy or a few guys to play slap and tickle with – no strings attached, plenty of rope attached.”

“We can still do the garage,” I was the first of my brothers to offer our own services. Trent and James were opposed to a stranger.

“That’s very kind of you, but the things I want them to do to me while I am hanging on the rope are too extreme for us to even discuss. I enjoyed the rope stuff, and it kind of checked a few boxes that I wanted to explore. I don’t know if it was a fluke or not. I’d ask that you stay out of the garage and let me sort of get my freak on.”

We respected her wishes, and Mom continued around the house bottomless for a little longer before eventually getting dressed. She didn’t seem to mind the new arrangement. She laughed when we spanked her over the shorts she wore and said that it didn’t feal nearly the same as on bare flesh.

Misty went out to the grocery store with Hope. Despite my sister’s constant ridicule, they were still close. She removed the collar before she left the house, but almost forgot that she had it on.

Misty made us a really lovely dinner. It was unusual for her to cook all day, but I think she was feeling guilty or maybe just wanted to get her butt spanked. I didn’t question her sudden interest in making us a family dinner. We were having lasagna, and that was one of my favorite dishes.

She came home and remained clothed for a little while. We spanked her bottom, but not as much as we had when she was bottomless. Misty prepared the food while wearing only a tank top. My brothers and I kept walking up, taking turns poking, pinching, or smacking her bare bottom while she worked the stove.

Misty giggled and looked a little annoyed or harumphed but never once stopped us. She seemed amused by what were often VERY hard smacks to her bottom.

“So, what is going to happen when I bring a boy over for dinner? Are you going to go round robin and give him a turn spanking your ass?” Hope asked after we sat down at the dinner table.

My mom chose to start with James since he had gone last during lunch. She looked at Hope while resting her arms on the table and bending over for my brother. He began to spank her without any formality.

“One! You have never brought a boy home to meet me, but as we discussed in the living room, I’d ask that you guys suspend punishing me at dinner, Two!! Ouchie!”

“Is this punishment?” Hope asked her as James swatted her ass cheeks and forced them to wobble and shake.

“That’s a figure of speech,” My mom admitted with a look of chagrin. That had clearly been a poor choice of words on her part.

“I meant punishment for my brothers; they have to have your big sweaty ass in their face while they eat,” Hope grinned playfully. “I am the one that has to watch you make faces and groan while they try to avoid rolling your oats at the table.”

Mom laughed hysterically at Hope’s sarcasm while trying to count three and nearly spit out her water.

James flattened her butt like a pancake with a really hard strike to the crease in her ass cheeks, and the water she spit out got all over her tank top.

“What was that?” my mom asked as she looked over her shoulder in surprise to find out what my brother had used instead of his hand.

James had been hiding the cutting board behind him. It was a 12-inch wooden cutting board, the rounded kind with a handle that was shaped for a pizza. James planted another swat on my mother’s ass nice and hard and reminded her that she hadn’t counted, so he got a do-over.

“Wait, a minute? What is that?” she looked at the paddle-shaped board and rubbed her rosy-pink ass. “Okay, that’s fine. Can you warn me next time?”

The rules had never specifically stipulated wooden cutting boards, but it did say “kitchen utensils.” I was prepared to argue in favor of my brother using it. It was perfectly shaped like a wooden paddle. My mom didn’t seem to mind, though. She returned to the spanking position and presented her ass for a fourth.

My mom’s butt was already turning rosy red. James grinned about his clever surprise. “Four!” My mom had a hard time instinctively putting her hands behind her back to protect her bottom when he spanked her again with the makeshift paddle.

“Palms flat on the table,” I said after my mother repeatedly brought her hands behind her back to stop the paddle.

“How will I eat?” Mom asked. Her eye was turning red as if it was tearing up from the pain of the wooden paddle. I knew it must have really stung.

“I don’t know, but you can’t keep defending your ass,” I said.

“We could throw the food at her like we did the popcorn,” Trent chuckled and reminded us how we hand-fed the popcorn to my mom while she was tied up.

“That could get very messy and very embarrassing,” My mom said. She counted the seventh swat and stopped herself halfway between instinctively reaching behind her back.

“Embarrassing for who? Us or you?” I chuckled and suggested that I could tie her hands up if she couldn’t stop herself.

“I don’t want every meal to get so weird that it becomes a spectacle,” Mom said as she endured another painful swat on her rump. She counted eight and couldn’t stop her instinctive reaction. She nearly spun around angrily and clocked my brother.

“I think we are way past GETTING weird,” Hope pointed out the obvious.

“We need to tie your hands just so you don’t beat the snot out of one of us,” I joked.

My mom considered what she had done and said, “If you had done half the things to me that you did while I was tied up, I probably would have knocked your blocks off or quit,” she observed. “You can tie my hands for your own safety, but I have to eat. I’ll agree to that. If you tie me up a little, Can one of you volunteer to feed me with a fork and not get it all over?”

We happened to have some 2-foot nylon bungee cords in the cabinet. They were black and were intended to secure luggage in place on top of a car. How they ended up in the kitchen was simply my mom’s quirky lack of organization. I used those to secure her wrists and then tie them around her neck so that she couldn’t move them. She could have wriggled out of them if she really wanted to do so.

“I can’t believe I agreed to this,” she chuckled as she tested the rubber bungee cords. I didn’t make them super tight. “I suppose I’ll have to start wearing the collar to meals, lol!”

“Oh, are you going to cook meals now?” Hope asked sarcastically. “Finally, I’ll get something out of this.”

“Hey, you could miss a few meals, tubby,” Mom teased. Trent flicked my mom’s clit really hard. I don’t think he timed it for when Mom teased my sister about her weight. However, it landed at just the right time and she yelped.

Hope is a little on the plus side, but that comes with having huge tits. She’s very sensitive about her weight, but we all joke about things like that. She frowned and rolled her eyes.

“I cook as much as possible, but sometimes there isn’t time and you guys are old enough to get your own food. If everyone wants me to make food more often, I will.”

We all agreed. I think my mom’s cooking is fine, but not fantastic. I just wanted another chance to swat her ass and I think my brothers did as well.

My brother Trent continued flicking my mom’s ass and poking her while she waited for me to secure her wrists. She was shocked that Trent wanted an actual turn spanking her after that since he had flicked and pinched her the entire time. My mom allowed me to secure her wrists and bind them around her neck without any resistance. I felt like a police man handcuffing a perpetrator that is used to being arrested.

“I want to try the paddle!” he pointed out.

Mom sighed. “You guys are going to get bored of this at EVERY meal, but fine. I liked the paddle. It wasn’t that bad at all,” she presented herself to my little brother and allowed him the same opportunity to spank her ass.

I volunteered to be the first to try to feed my mother during her spanking. Trent hauled off like a slugger trying to hit a home run and brought that paddle down on her ass so hard that it made a cracking sound that scared us. Misty’s body shook, and she nearly fell to her knees. My mom yelped and spit her food all over my hands. “You hit me with the edge!” she complained.

“Yeah,” Trent admitted proudly. I assumed the edge of the paddle was pretty painful.

“It’s a good thing my hands are tied up, that’s one,” Mom said as she stuck her ass back out and presented it like a target. -SWACK- “Oooh-hoo-hoo! Hoo!” my mom cried in anguish as the side of the paddle left a mark on the back of her legs. Trent was also managing to bring the flat up against her ass after.

She spit food out all over her shirt, and it fell on the tablecloth. “This isn’t going to work with you feeding me like this, Honey,” my mom offered politely as food and slobber dripped down her chin. My Mother seemed like the world’s most polite baby being hand-fed by her own son.

“You agreed to it,” Hope was fully amused by this new predicament.

“I also said if a rule doesn’t work, then we need to change it,” Misty replied and pointed out I was getting food all over her shirt. There were only two rules, but already I was seeing that we should have had more. I liked the rules.

I don’t think anyone else took them as “binding” contracts. It did, however, establish what was and wasn’t within the limits, and no one said we didn’t need the rules.

“Strip down topless for dinner, and he can feed you whatever falls out,” Hope suggested that my mom take her meals totally nude. She laughed about the spit dripping off my mother’s chin and the water all over her tank top.

“Or, we could OWIE, OWIE, OWIE, GOD-DAMNIT, TRENT! THREE, FU-UCHK, That was RIGHT IN MY ASS CRACK,” Mom shouted angrily and admitted she lost her train of thought. I fed her a few pieces of her food between her anguished cries. She munched them and swallowed but managed to drop or cough some of it when she spoke.

“We’ll talk about it after. I don’t mind being topless if I am going to be bottomless, but while Michael is trying to feed me, his own food is getting cold,” she lamented and called out the fourth swat with an anguished yelp. “I enjoy being naked!”

“We’ll take turns feeding you,” I snickered. I pinched my mother’s nose the way I had when she was bound so that her mouth opened and stuck a piece of roast beef on her tongue.

“FUUH-IVE, YOU BASTARD TRENT!! YOU ARE SKINNING MY PUSSY!” Mom remained flat-footed and stubbornly stuck her ass out again like a target. I wasn’t sure what he did with the paddle, but it definitely stung her. She no longer seemed to care that I was feeding her. I brought a drink to her lips between swats and let her chew her food while I hovered over her face from the other side of the table. I even wiped her lips even though a lot of it was dripping down onto her shirt and the tablecloth.

If this hurt her so badly – I wondered why she wouldn’t make us stop. Misty could easily ignore the rules if she wanted to and stop. It seemed like it hurt and terrified my mother, but she wanted to finish all ten. Her eyes were watering, and her nose had started to run a little.

“Okay, okay, do the spoon, do the spoon, please stop with the paddle, AYE-YEEEE, SEVEN, SEVEN, OH GOD,” Mom muttered and pleaded for a less painful spanking implement.

“That was six,” we all corrected her count. My brothers and I were paying close attention to this spectacle.

“Hey, there should be a rule: if she miscounts, I get to go again,” Trent giggled and plowed another swat on my mom. I almost felt sorry for her – if she hadn’t been so insistent on doing this, I would have felt like we were ganging up on her.

“Seven! Seven! It was an accident,” Mom huffed. “We need to ALL agree to a new rule!” Sweat was starting to bead from my mother’s forehead and drip down her face, with a few tears rolling out of her eyes.

“Do you agree to it?” Trent demanded that she agree and laid into her ass again.

“No, no, this is too much; I can’t take it, Trent! Please stop!! Eight!!!”

If Misty really wanted my brother to stop, all she had to do was stand up straight and move out of the way. She remained bent over the table and presented her ass cheeks. It was odd to me how much she protested, even though technically, she could stop it at any time by simply leaving.

He hit her again with the flat of the paddle, and the sound the paddle made was a satisfying ka-rack.

“Nine, nine, nine, please, Trent, no more. I can’t take it, I can’t,” she begged as she chewed bits of food. I didn’t dare feed her as I was afraid, with all her yelping, that she would hurt herself with the fork. My brother was ruthless, though. He showed her no mercy, and he swatted her again.

“Ten, Ten, Ten, Ten,” my mom seemed exhausted but strangely proud of herself for enduring all ten. She was bound and struggling with the rubber cords.

“Oh fuck, fuck-a-fuck,” My mom struggled with the rubber cords around her wrists and neck. It was as if she was testing them. I think if Misty had stopped to think about it, she could have removed them herself.

“Can you just rub my butt for a few minutes? Maybe put some melted butter on it?” she panted with relief.

“Melted butter?” I snickered.

“I don’t know, Michael. Ice, Ben-Gay, something. It feels like I sat in hornets. So much stinging! Just let me catch my breath, please?”