Chapter 12

"It's my fault!" Jean erupted.

"Yes, it is," I agreed, "but that's almost irrelevant. It's about expectations, too -- and Karen expects to be punished. If I DON'T punish her, she'll have gotten over one time too many and there will be trouble down the road -- trust me on this." I headed up the hall.

Pete made to follow, but I waved him off. "You won't gain anything by this. There will be times when things need to be public, but this isn't one of them. You all stay upstairs." Pete nodded and backed off; Kate was even more reluctant, but she did, too. I headed on down the stairs.

Karen was right where she was supposed to be -- in her kennel, peeking out. That made things clear, from my viewpoint; if she'd just been fooling around, she might have been anywhere downstairs. She might have tried to justify her actions, too -- but she didn't. No, she was doing as she was told, and waiting to see if I was going to do what was necessary to justify her faith in me -- and at this point, the necessary tactic was to bring smoke.

I didn't disappoint. I went over to the collection of goodies I'd laid in and selected a wide, heavy leather strap, then turned to her, letting her see it. "Crawl over here." Eyes wide, Karen did as she was told. "Jean was wrong -- but you were, too, weren't you?" I asked.

"Yes, Cletus."

"Put your head on your forearms, and don't fucking move!" I warned, then, without further ceremony, I let her have it -- twenty-five good, solid licks with the strap. It left wide, red welts all over her ass -- some of which moved on to purple. I didn't take it easy, and I wasn't particularly slow, so the burn built up quickly to an unbearable level. When she started to dance on her knees, I stopped and warned her -- twice -- before adding strokes twenty-one to twenty-five because she wasn't holding still.

Obviously, it hurt like a bitch; she was crying loudly by the time I finished. I had her follow me to the couch on her knees and climb up on my lap, where I rubbed her back and ass and asked her if she was going to behave and other silly shit designed to make it clear who was boss while giving her a little post-punishment affirmation. She blubbered and sniffled and made promises and all was well with the world.

Could I have handled it differently? Sure. There were probably any number of ways to fuck it up -- and conversely, any number of ways to make my point. But this was the first big fuck-up -- and she needed to know that I was on the job and she had standards to maintain. I'd made a commitment to her and I was going to fulfill it, one way or another. Punishment needed to be swift and merciless in order to ensure that she was very clear on what to expect -- and I made damned certain it was. It would save us a lot of trouble down the line.

Now, remember, this isn't the Dr. Spock book of child-rearing we're dealing with here. Would I have done this to ANY of the kids? No. But Karen was in full submissive mode, and she didn't need Mr. Wishy-Washy, she needed a master who would hold her feet to the fire. I made sure she got everything necessary. Was it fair? Fuck no! But that didn't matter, either. A response was required -- I delivered it. Period.

When she'd settled down some, I had her get up. "Go over and look in the box and find a dog collar." She did as she was told; the intent was for her to see the tools I had acquired for her correction and control while digging for a collar. She got the point. She came back with an item with diamond-shaped studs on it and I buckled it on her neck. "Now go figure out what you have to do to give me a warm breakfast," I instructed her. That was all part of the deal, too; the teenagers upstairs would be abuzz over her little adornment...

You have to think about these things -- or at least, I do. Psych warfare isn't something you just do off the cuff. Every move needs to be thought about -- or you send the wrong message; every situation has nuances. I knew I wasn't going to get it right one hundred percent of the time, so I was going to have to build up an excess of respect that I could draw upon to cover screw-ups. I waited until she got to the top of the stairs to follow.

The kids were more or less bug-eyed; well, I couldn't blame them. "This is only the first episode of strange shit you're gonna see," I warned. "Get used to it. The rules that apply to her are not the rules that apply to you, so don't think that I plan such things where you are concerned. This is between Karen and me -- and you would be best off ignoring it as best you can. Understand?"

"You hurt her!" Heather was horrified.

"Yeah, I did -- but I didn't HARM her. She's not permanently damaged. Talk to her about it before you condemn me," I replied. "This isn't something you're going to understand -- it isn't what you might think of as mainstream behavior. But I have Karen's permission to do these things -- remember that! She can leave at any time! I'm not blackmailing her, like I am your momma -- she's a volunteer. So you have to think she's getting something out of this, you know?"

"You're blackmailing Mom?" Heather gasped.

"Sure. Do you think she would behave herself if I didn't?"

"Think about it, Sis," Michael piped up. "He's just keeping her head on straight. You know how she gets."

I nodded. "The same thing applies to Karen -- the techniques are merely different -- and the level of cooperation."

Karen circled to my front and knelt before me. "I should cook you fresh eggs," she said carefully.

"Over easy," I told her. "Just two."

"And toast?"

"Raisin toast," I ordered. "Dry. I'll make the coffee -- I'm particular about it."

"Yes, Cletus." She rose to go take care of business.

"Are we going to see a lot of that?" Heather asked.

"Quite a bit," I agreed. "Once again, this applies to Karen and Karen alone, at this point. If it involves someone else, it probably won't be anyone in this room."

"So, you don't expect..." Kate said carefully.

I locked eyes with her. "Not at this time." She got it. If she wanted to play, she was allowed -- but I didn't think she was ready yet. I flicked my eyes to Karen, "Put on the apron -- if I want your titties burned, I'll do it myself."

"Yes, Cletus!" There were a couple of gasps from the younger set, which I thought about quelling by chiding them about believing everything they hear -- but then I remembered wax play and shut my mouth. Jean came in about then; I just looked at her and she dropped her eyes.

"Karen, apologize to Jean," I ordered.

Karen dropped what she was doing and went right over. "I'm sorry!"

I gave Jean a look; she got it. "It was my fault as much as it was yours -- maybe more. Forget it," Jean told Karen.

Karen flashed me a look; I waved it off. "Okay. Friends?" she asked Jean.

"Sure."

Karen nodded and went back to my eggs. I waved at the kids, "Hey, if you don't have anything to do, we still have to empty the truck before things get too hot..." That put THEM in gear and allowed me to eat; Jean went out to supervise.

The truck was at least fully unloaded by the time I finished eating; it would take a while to integrate things, but we could move on. I got dressed and drove the truck back to the rental agency, with Karen following in the Saturn to bring me home. Once that was done, we settled in to attempt to enjoy the rest of Sunday. Jean dragged her kids home after dinner, much to their displeasure, but it did allow the Moffats to settle in. Pete had a bunch of boxes and crap to deal with downstairs, but seemed more than satisfied with the trade-off for having his own little empire.

Bedtime came and Jean didn't return, so I took Karen to bed, making her blow me through one nut, then taking her anally, knowing that her ass was still sore from the strap. The purpose of the exercise (well, aside from the two nuts) was to ensure that she was challenged properly, which would keep her out of trouble. If I seemed rough and unfeeling, part of it was deliberate. Besides, she LIKED it -- I gave her a little vibrator time while I was poking her ass and she got off on it. That being the case, I might have been too easy on her -- only time would tell.

Monday morning, Jean toddled off to work before I got up. I waited until around ten, then asked Kate to wander over and see how Michael and Heather were getting on. Michael came back with her after about ten minutes. "Hey, Sport!" I greeted him, "How's your mother?"

"All over the place," Michael grunted. "She's been bad, but you're worse; we shouldn't come over here because you're evil, but she can't stop us because she has no control of things any more. I think she was up half the night between the heat and her brain frying."

"Where's Heather?" Heather was off Mondays.

"Dithering," Michael chuckled. "Hopping from one foot to the other. Mom tried to scare her and read her the Riot Act for sucking you, then tried to talk to her about sex -- which just fucked up her head. She's nervous, but she knows Amy will give her crap if she gets all chicken-shit."

I nodded, grunting. I don't rape my women, but I was coercing the living shit out of Jean; that made it a bit difficult to get up on my hind legs and claim I was as pure as the driven snow. "I'll go talk to her."

I went and threw on a pair of shorts and some running shoes and snagged a cup of coffee, then went and pounded on the Cantrell's front door. Heather opened it cautiously, "Yes?"

"Can I come in? We need to talk. I won't bite -- I promise," I told her.

She backed up. "Mom says not to trust you."

"Good advice," I agreed, "but probably for the wrong reasons. From my perspective, you mother's head isn't on quite straight. Your mother is afraid of men -- and it colors everything she says and does. I know she's working hard on making YOU afraid of men, too -- she calls it protecting you, but it's more like she's scaring you to death."

"You're blackmailing her," Heather accused.

"Guilty as charged," I agreed, "but if she hadn't been making like a voyeur, she'd never have gotten caught. It's another hang-up she has -- an indication that she's got issues and she isn't coping well. I'm doing it mainly to try to fix things by forcing her to get back in the saddle where men are concerned -- but I admit that my reasons aren't squeaky clean; she's a fine little piece of ass, okay?"

"Okay. What's this got to do with me?" Heather asked.

"Well, I'd prefer that you didn't hold what I'm doing against me, because I AM trying to help," I replied. "Also, I want you to know that you're as safe as you want to be around me. Your mom is an exception, but I generally don't force myself on my women -- and that includes Karen, visual evidence to the contrary."

"That's scary," Heather opined.

"What could happen if Karen went hog-wild is even scarier," I replied. "I'm using discipline and some challenges to keep her from going out looking for a new, kinky experience every night -- and having them get kinkier and kinkier until she ends up in a ditch somewhere. Talk to her about it -- it's a little weird, but I'm trying to help her whole family, because if she's stable, she won't lose them and Pete in particular won't go off the deep end."

"If you say so," Heather said dubiously.

"Don't take my word for it."

"I won't." Heather puffed out a breath. "Mom says you're worse than Dad -- more manipulative."

"Maybe I am. Maybe she attracts my type," I replied. "At least, taking advantage of her isn't my ONLY objective. If you look at things, I think I've helped out occasionally."

"Mom hates that," Heather ventured.

"I'm not surprised," I replied. "But she needed help and I was there. She needs a man in her life -- maybe not all the time, but on a regular basis. She needs someone to lean on -- and, frankly, someone to fuck."

"She's not sure about that."

"If you'd seen her sexual response, you would be," I retorted. "Jilling off isn't doing it for her -- and now that she's had a taste of the good stuff, it'll be even less satisfactory. The plan is more or less to let her discover that on her own -- but if she's as stubborn as she tends to be, we may have to rub her nose in it first."

Heather grimaced. "Who died and made you Mr. Fixit?"

"That's a fair question," I replied. "Nobody. Your mother just makes my dick hard -- and she's broken -- and I find the combination to be irresistible." I got up and headed for the door. "Don't let her issues become yours. The door is always open -- and it swings both ways." That said, I let myself out.

Next on the agenda, whether I cared to deal with it or not, was giving Karen's notice. We got in the Saturn and headed for her place, just Karen and I. I asked her who her landlord was, and she related to me that the guy's name was Ignacio.

"Ignacio Flores?" I asked.

"Yeah, that's it."

I knew Ignacio -- he was a member of the local Landlord's Association. He spent a lot of time bitching about his tenants -- but then, he wasn't any too selective. I think he liked drug dealers because they tended to pay on time and in cash -- let' face it, drug dealers do NOT want legal problems -- even an eviction notice. Can you imagine having the Sherriff's deputy show up at your apartment while you're weighing out nickel bags? Anyway, given Karen's neighborhood, Ignacio's name was one I was unsurprised to hear. "Great. Let me handle this." She directed me to Ignacio's place.