Hi, I have a story, and can use help...

[sherry_85]

Hi,

I am new here, so I do not know the "rules" or traditions.

I did not want to post all my ideas, and then have people say "Gosh, you talk too much" or something. To me, it seems silly because we all came here to read stories. You are going to read text when you come to a site like this, always just go at the pace you read in, what does it matter if its not 10 little short stories, and instead one intricate one? Read as much as you are going to read at your own pace and then come back to it if you wish. Thats my thoughts, but I have been told in the past I can type a lot and be a chatty cathy, so I will leave it alone, except to say i know better than to just post my story draft here, without first finding out if I can.

So here is what my situation is, and I will gladly take advice and constructive feedback;

I wrote a story. As many of my stories go, I don't start out knowing the ending, I just write and as I go, I figure out how the people would interact with each other.

I have about 10 parts to the story.

It is based on my real life, and getting interested in D/s. So the background for the story is all true 100% (I change some names though). Real people from my real life, just not revealing identities. This is really how I feel, and really all that.

I attempt to sort of go through in my head some things that might happen in the near future if I choose to actually take the plunge and consider going perm with a master. You see I have dabbled in BDSM, but what surprises me is all the people who commit to a lifetime thing right off the bat.

Anyway, having fooled around with it enough I am now considering it.


The story in a nutshell involves my travel to meet and be on a trial basis with a Master I have known for quite some time. In discussions, we have decided to visit my family for the christmas holidays. Now, we aren't going to beat them over the head with what I am, but its sort of my way of "coming out" about what I am and if they figure it out, well so be it. In fact, we discussed what will happen if that occurs.


In a way, its sort of a cat-and-mouse game, bluffs and bravado mostly on my part, I am actually scared shitless at the prospect of doing this. However, if I burn bridges with my family, I think then it would make it easier to accept a new life in D/s and forget about the old one.

As well, I am a single parent. A lot of times people want to gloss over that fact, (Unless they are incest heads and then they want everyone to be horny and there to be no consequences for betraying the trust of parents/uncle/siblings).

This is a real story, and I wouldn't be me, without my kid. One thing you will note if you ever do go to real BDSM gatherings like a munch is that its mostly couples (as single men are often frowned upon at some of them, or at least second-class citizens, unless they have in the past at least shown up with a subbie or something). You will note that many couples do have kids and when they come to the realization this is going to be more than just bedroom games of handcuffs and blindfolds and they want a full on Master-slave thing, they must figure out how to deal with it.


So thats the story.

Now, where I need help is, I need someone to give me some ideas. I have a serious case of writers cramp in the brain, and I haven't really thought about where else to take it. I could use just random bullet point type stuff.

My email is sherry_85@hotmail.com

if you prefer to talk that way.

 

[chatbug]

Good luck with your D/s interests and experiences.

Since you've already written 10 parts, you may have already covered some of these thoughts.

Meeting the family

Southern women were historically taught to "top from the bottom". You could have sisters that understand your submissive feelings, but shocked at how openly you express them.

Your sisters flirt with your Master in front of you, and he flirts back.

Your brothers want to protect you and take you away from your Master.

Your father could be shocked or relieved that you're with a strong domineering man.

Your mother can finally unburden herself and tell you that she's been secretly submissive, wish you well, and give you advice.

With your Master

Most stories are idealized. The sessions are always perfect, no one gets tired or sore, orgasms are always achieved or denied. You could write about fantasies that don't work out in reality. As an example, you fantacise about being whipped, but find that your skin is too sensitive to be whipped hard.

Or you can write about how you had to experience something like whipping several times before you could appreciate it / enjoy it.

Write about how your mutual trust is developing in between sessions.

Good luck

 

[sherry_85]

I am going to post the first few parts, yes you have some good ideas and yes, this is not an idealized thing. I guess I am sort of a top from the bottom (also called a smart-assed masochist or SAM). It takes someone strong to put me in my place. I only realized recently I even wanted to dare someone to try.

PREFACE:

This story is in fact my attempts to be very honest about some real issues and thoughts that people have as they discover their interests in BDSM take root. Some people who have read it, have suggested I remove or change some of the people in it, but then that would make it more fantasy and less about reality. One of the big issues I think, is that there are many single moms or couples out there with kids into BDSM and how they balance their interests when it stops just being a bedroom game, and starts becoming a lifestyle choice.

I hope you are not 'offended', and I hope perhaps I even help some out there to make their decisions. You see when I start writing I am not sure where the story is going to go, its my attempt to really see where the story goes, figuring what people will really do in a given situation (If I know them well enough).

Additional, my daughter appears in the story, and thats probably where a lot of you will find issue. There is no me, without my daughter, she is that big a part of me. It would be convienent to write a story where basically she wasn't there and an obstacle to my pursuing this life. If that was the case though, it wouldn't be as meaningful as it is. There is a lot of internet fiction out there where the woman has no vanilla family, much less kids to worry about, and thats because as a writer you can say "Well, if this character will sort of interfere with the story, then remove them."

For instance, when they wrote Little Red Riding Hood, if a grown up had been there to walk her through the woods, which should have been the case anyway, it wouldn't have made a good story. They would have ignored the wolf and done the right things.

But, call me different, call me unusual, call me sick. I am probably all of those things, but I am also honest, and I couldn't concieve of this story without her present, because at the crux of some of my concerns about my involvement in this, is how it will affect her, and how it will affect me to know it may.

To say also, that simply someone who lives with you will not know or suspect, is to be naive. To decide that because you do not want to her know, you can simply "will" her not to discover this aspect of your life is ridiculous.

To assume as a mother, you will not influence your child in some way, is to be naive as well. You will, even by trying NOT to influence them. I am mindful of that in the story, and yes, she does discover that I am property of Master William and does interact with me in a different manner, but I do that for a simple reason: Repression can be a lot worse. IF we were to try to hide everything about this situation around her, and not allow her to interact with me in any meaningful ways, then it wouldn't work long term. If we allow her to interact in harmless ways that may remove some of my authority, I am willing to live with that, because I know that Master William is there to take over some of those things that for so long as a single parent, I would be both mother and father roles to her.

People who are nudists (www.aanr.com) wrestle with the stigma around that life style as well, as people who are into BDSM. Trust me, naturalist lifestyle (nudists) is a very family oriented thing, and most people totally don't understand the concept at all.


Okay, enough rambling. Let me give you one more warning: This story is not full of "Oohs and Aaahs" and women loving pain, and cliche's. The pain hurts, if it doesn't hurts its not done correctly. This story is not a series of little vignettes of bondage sessions either. Its a story about life, and while it may be provacative, I hope you appreciate it on several levels, because I think its the best story I ever told.

PART ONE: INTRODUCTION

This story begins as many do, somewhere in the middle of someone’s life. The story is based quite a bit on truth and only the names have been changed to protect the innocent (and the truly wicked).

I will give you the short summary of my life, leaving just the details necessary to understand the events of this Christmas. I have been told that I need to keep it simple, because anyone who truly is interested in my life, is probably short on brain power, I know that I am.

A few months earlier At this time in my life,my name had been Sherry. I say it had been, because I had been totally bewitched by the Internet and BDSM. I had come to a site a few years earlier named www.chatropolis.com and what had originally started as a lark, a joke, a pass time, grew to curious fascination. You see you could chat on this site with people, and as you did, you saw the most twisted photographics scoll up across your screen.

At first it was fairly mundane things, and in my earlier life I had been a stripper in a bar and as a lifelong fan of Springer, I thought few things in life would shock me. I was truly wrong.

The internet has proven one thing, no matter how twisted and deeply perverse your deepest darkest fantasy or anything your mind can conceive, something you'd think they'd surely lock you up, or at the very least watch you very carefully, if they knew you'd only think such thoughts that you dare never tell anyone, is in reality probably a named kink on the internet. A website is most likely dedicated to it, and taking photos and making art of it, writing stories about it, webcams, and servers dedicated not only to this, but perhaps someone’s full time job is to come in everyday and produce or model for this kind of kink. A kink they have probably taken and broke out into sub-kinks and made an entire vocabulary for.

Yes, every time I got on, I became further shocked and intrigued (I hate to admit). Real photos of real people doing really strange things. I began to wonder the context of the photos. Not content to just look at a picture, but foolishly I asked myself "What is the reason behind this photo?" Did the emotion of the model seem to say "Hey I am not a model, I am this guys girlfriend and I lost a bet, but if I hadn't....oh, what I would have had him DO! oh lord, hurry up and take the photo!" as I stared at a woman in nothing but a blue shirt open and buttonless standing in front of a circuit city.

Everytime I got on, there was a new fetish, that at one time in my life I would have been sickened or at the very least not interested. But like anything, once you get the bug for it, you begin to get more and more curious. I discovered Dolcett's art, and if you are not aware of this very profound artists work, I strongly encourage you to do so. Its an acquired taste, but it helps you understand that you don't have to "want" to do something in order to like the idea of it, and to enjoy a photo or drawing of it.

As I said, I would keep this summary brief, but I am finding now that it’s important to tell you that, at the start I began to sort of play these ideas out in my head, and even write stories as I am doing now. I am not sure why, but it soon led to me working out that I should go ahead and try to live out some of my fantasies so that I could see for myself what it was all about. The stories just weren't enough.

Now, I had seen all the stories of women who met someone over the internet and ended up dead, and I had been very interested in not being one of those (Despite being a Dolcett fan) go figure, huh? I also wasn't interested in a lifetime of slavery. I met a lot of "women" online who wanted or claimed to live as someone’s lifetime slave. I figured that was a pretty big commitment, and just wanted to see what perhaps a few weeks of training was like.

You see in my stories, I was sort of figuring out the logical conclusions, impacts of following a path like this. I would usually make the main character basically me, even name her after myself. I would spend a lot of time giving her a reason for why the events would take place and how she could find herself allowing the situation to take place, because to me I needed a good reason.

Most internet fiction is horrible. It is written with a very weak premise, sort of like the movie "Boxing Helena". The characters never seem to have to work or deal with the real world, and a really ridiculous event occurs and the woman agrees to a life as a slave. Like for instance her husband owes some taxes or she has a car accident.
Everyone drinks wine and despite the woman’s abject slavery she has her makeup fixed perfectly, and its all roses, sunsets, and this sort of "Red Shoes Diaries" glamorized version of life. I also call it the "Batman phenomenon" because in the authors mind (Which is undoubtedly a man, if its bad fiction) the main character is usually his alter-ego and in order to simply dispense with any kind of concerns for reality, he simply decides he has a type of Bat cave and mansion and loyal servants and simply because he has willed it, no one other than other perverts and helpless attractive young women find out about his evil pony ranch where he subjects women to tortures on a 24/7 basis.

Don't get me wrong, there is good fiction and men can write it. Its just usually I am more disappointed then not when reading stuff, because the bad stuff is usually also free, while you almost always would have to pay for access to anything good. I guess if the internet teaches me anything though, if you patiently wait long enough, you'll get a free story or photo that will rock your world.

With Bad fiction, For instance, you might find a story out there, and I apologize if you enjoyed it and it seems I am knocking it. I further apologize because I promised to get to the point but now that I've started writing, I can't really do it justice without making my points.

The story usually involves a wealthy handsome man who owns a vast mansion and has a few life long live in servants, usually an attractive but butch nurse, and a bodyguard or two named "Mule" and "Holmes" for parts on their bodies. These amoral hangers on live for nothing other than the chance their boss will bring over some woman they can help train, and despite the fact that nothing seems to shock them or that they have family lives outside of the Master's house,they don't ever turn on their boss. The woman and her attractive 18 year old daughter, or cuckold husband or what have you finds herself enjoying her punishment in sort of an oxymoronic situation where pain is fun, and pleasurable. Where there are no consequences to being left for 18 hours on a stretching machine to the body, and everyone stays eternally young and eternally without vanilla people in their life poking around going "Hey, I am going to call the cops if you do that to her" (And the cops aren't "in" on it, and show up and address the mansion owner as a friend in a perverse brotherhood)..

I had other plans for my stories, they involved blackmail, where a seemingly normal woman with some spunk and perhaps the weakness of being willing to do what it is she agreed to do if she had too (call it stubborn resolve or just naive stupidity). My stories involved elaborate situations where the woman could allow herself to be absolved of having volunteered to do all this, and some evil mastermind had said something to give her a chance to return to her life of dignity if she would only play his game.

Yes games, bets and dares were a big part of my stories because of a few common reasons that are perfectly clear to me. To others, it almost never is, they say "why bother with consequences-winning or losing? If someone is a slave, they are going to lose anyway."
They do not see the benefits. First, there is an adrenalin rush if you have some risk. Shooting fish in a barrel or chasing a fox who was tethered on a string and whose course would be known would lose any excitement if there is no risk. Adrenalin pumping in my stomach would eventually be my downfall, because it can be as addictive as any drug on the market. So it is with the characters in those stories.

Also a game with a consequence and something to win was a carrot on a stick, to motivate. For instance, if you told a woman to pull a 10 pound weight down a trail attached to some part of her body, then why should she bother? to please master? sure perhaps if that was her motive in the first place, but no reason to put herself out about it.

If you want to get into the head of a subbie with a spirit, you'd want to phrase it like this; "Get to that tree at the end of the trail and there will be a cigarette waiting for you. If you are there in less than 30 seconds you can be puffing on it, if you are late, you'll open your mouth and accept the humble role of my ashtray as I rest on your back." Getting her to agree to play, is in itself a win, because either way you get to be treated to the site of her working as hard as she can down that dirty trail with her ass and tits flapping back and forth, now with her eyes on a prize that as far as you are concerned costs you very little.

I had found a story called "Road to Redemption" drawn by an artist named Prichard. I discovered he had drawn it in the early 1940s in France, and I realized he may have actually had some real twisted experiences that made him such an interesting artist. The story had all these twists and turns, just when you thought it was going one way, it went another unexpectedly. It described a woman in the 1600s who was on a journey, one of physical, but also spiritual and mental and her continual descent away from the prideful trappings she had been raised with, preparing her for the eternal torment of one so wicked as her in the afterlife. It was a comic or "Graphic novel" type of thing, not a written story. I must have read it 100 times. It affected me so deeply, because while there was no way to relive her journey, I wanted to do it at least spiritually. I knew deep in my hart I did, and part of that involved the pride fullness that has so plagued me all my life, the trappings and distractions of coveting physical comforts and pleasures, of wealth as being false. I strongly encourage you to search it on the web, its free to download (As I mentioned, almost any thing is, if you have the patience to wait/search).

My stories began to evolve further and further, and I wanted the guy to take a risk. To share with him the joy I was finding in my discovery that when you have something to lose worth losing it, it makes the game all the more intriguing. You see in that earlier scenario the man really has nothing to lose, which serves a man just fine if left to his own thoughts. If you show him though, that on the off chance off chance the woman "wins" (and in working so hard to please him, ends up entertaining him anyway) that he must give up something, that he in turn shares in the adrenalin rush and helps to make the woman’s goals more than just a fleeting attempt at a privilege, but perhaps some strange payback or table turning, by getting to sit on his back and dip ashes in his mouth if she should somehow manage to win. Naturally, the man usually has the house advantage and the odds are steeply stacked in his favor, but every now and then, every now and then you believe you really can pull it off.

Such as it would be this coming Christmas, except it wasn't a story this time. but I get ahead of myself, because you want to know about me and the cast of characters I am sure.


ME:
I was 32, short curly blonde hair (okay, it’s from a bottle but whatever), blue eyes, pale freckly skin of Irish descent. 5'4" a sturdy frame, won't win any modeling contests, but as I said in my earlier days I had actually been a stripper. I had come along way in my life, as a single parent of a little girl who had just turned eight years old. I had been living on my own for a large part of my life. I will give you a detailed history of my life In short snippets, but I guess if you look up the horoscope sign for Taurus woman, that’s basically me in a nutshell. The oldest of three sisters I was sort of the protector, hardened, didn't take shit from people.

As I say, I had spent my early 20's as a stripper in a bar and then after having my child quit and tried to work a real job. After I discovered the internet, I started writing stories and eventually I found that no longer worked for me (this one is the first in many many years, and only because at the moment, I can not go anywhere). I at first dabbled with short little trials with men I had met on the internet and sort of screened. I didn't just jump into the car and drive there, I would spend a long time getting to know them and after each visit I learned a little more and was more selective. I required they have a detailed contract of the rules,epectations and limits, because I detested that "checklist" that floats around the web, you know the one where you rate all these fetishes from 1-5? to me BDSM even short term was much more than a collection of fetishes strung together in scenes and further, if I am telling him what to do to me, then I am really in power. I wanted it to be where he told me what the rules were and if I foolishly agreed to those, and came out there, then it was on me to follow them. In that way, I would be assured a real dominant who knew what he expected and not someone who was simply accommodating me so that he could jump my bones and telling me what he would do to me to please me. I would be assured that the man wouldn't be easily topped from the bottom as they say.

I had done about 11 of these meets and had the pictures, scars and even a tattoo now to prove it. I hadn't wanted to get banged up too badly, and in the back of my mind the thought of a permanent slavery thing seemed finally to make sense. I mean why bounce around from person to person playing it I thought? I either wanted to scare myself out of my demons that drove me to serve, or I wanted to finally find someone to make a life with who was as twisted as I had discovered I had been. Only years before the internet if a man tried to fuck my ass, I would kick him out of bed and say he was a homosexual or something. I had never really thought much about it, but I just figured I had a perfectly good pussy, and what was in it for me if he did that hole? It just seemed to make perfect sense in my little world. Once I got on the web, it'd be rare to see someone getting fucked in the pussy unless they already had something in their ass, and I realized just how pervasive that was, it was a chink in my reality, that helped me to realize that there were things out there. I just didn't know. I wanted to know them, I wanted to feel them. "The body heals" I would tell myself as I suffered bruises and humiliations, even learned about pony training and spent more than a few nights in a cage with the morning mist coming down around me alone in the dark of someone’s backyard, wondering what the hell I had got myself into.


SIR:
I will call him William for our purposes, and leave him fairly non descript as would be his wish, other than to say William is a handsome man, who is well thought out and patient. Angry eyes and a stout build, with some experience in D/s before he met me. He had been patient with me, willing to show me his photos of himself, his home, his life. He had been willing to construct with me a plan to architect our lives together, but more than that it was a plan high enough level for anyone. It wasn't one of these things you see on the internet where its about 10 lines about "showing mutual respect" and "The slave shall have a safe word of rosebud, and she shall do whatever the master said unless of course she doesn't want too"

It was specific, a document designed to be a plan, a map. He had used an analogy once about signing on for a voyage in life, you can't possibly know where you are going to go or how it will end up, just look at the titanic. But don't sign on with a Captain who hasn't got a map and thinks since there could be storms at any time, why bother figuring out what he will do when they come until its there. Think out the most likely outcomes and situations and what the response will be, its a starting place, because when it comes upon you, you may not have the time to really react with thought, and no place to turn with answers, you will surely fail, and I wanted someone who wanted to win.

The contract outlined not just the role of the slave, but the role of the master, and any one else in the house, the rules, the expectations, the requirements, the goal! Those excluded from training or D/s such as my child still get addressed, because one of the things many D/s couples do is they just assume they can simply interact with each other and never talk about the uncomfort of what to do around their family. It bored William to discuss what he would do around my child, for as he was concerned this was something he had already planned out in his head.

If you've ever been to a "munch" its a BDSM get together, you really should find one in your area, there is usually one in any city and a search on the web will usually bring up lists of munch groups. Often they have monthly meetings where no one wears leather clothes, and outward D/s behavior isn't allowed. People meet at a public place and exchange ideas and thoughts and then there are 'after parties' by invitation only in someones home for the more fun and physical aspects of BDSM. At these groups the single male is shunned and so its often couples, and most couples have some form of kids. Some even bring their kids to the munch, its that much of a vanilla experience.

Which means to me, that each couple must find the way they can deal with raising kids in a household where one of them submits. Many want to simply will it to be unknown to the kids or their family in the house, and decide that they can flick a lightswitch on their submission and if it happens outside of their private 'sessions' in the room. The "slave" must go back to "normal" when she is out of the session and take back all her authority and her pridefulness and basically undo anything she trained, getting her 'button pressed' whenever she feels she needs it and that works for some.

Others find they can be a little more open about it, and just like families who go to nudist resorts (Www.aanr.com if you wonder, read the FAQS) they reach a conclusion about secrets and repression and decide what is reasonable. IF you think nudist resorts are sexual orgies then you probably have the same idea that is what BDSM is, and its not. Yes both involve people who may be sexually open, but the point here is that in such a group where the woman has learned to live with perhaps giving away some of her authority over the kids, because she knows she has a strong man with a plan and is fine with it, as long as someone is steering the wheel and maintaining the discipline. Kneeling at Master's feet while he sits in his chair, and calling him Sir in conservation, these are the things that people are willing to consider.

In any case, his contract was a blueprint to the roles and responsibilities of each of us, and even to taking on new members to the house (perhaps an additional slave). A trial period and training. Priveledges and rewards, and who, when, where and why an order could be given and the consequences for not taking it seriously.

We talked about 'what if' situations so much and my comments were often filled with "But, But, But...Sir? but" that eventually when I came to serve him, my slave name became simply "Butt" (Also I have a fat ass). among those "what-if" situations was the visit you are about to hear about, if I can only share with you the others in the story.


ABBEY: My child, a little wise-acre, just not turning eight years old. A crooked little smile still big front teeth coming in fully, with freckles across her nose. Extroverted and happy, with a tendency to talk too much, and if she gets you to laugh with her joke, then she'd tell it again and again if you'd let her. In short, the only right thing in my life I could point too and say "I did this", the thing that made me responsible and concerned.

You see I had met in my time fooling around on www.chatropolis.com and later MSN, people who lived extreme lifestyles. A woman who had a tantric temple in her home and had ladies come and live with her and her family. A man who ran a bed and breakfast pony ranch in Canada for BDSM couples who wanted me to be a "Bell girl" (literally wear bells) and serve around the house. A cult who also based out of canada treated women as property and auctioned them to one another but whose peaceful nature predicted a vegetarian life and no pain/whippings kind of slavery, it was just hard work recruiting and selling flowers in airports type of thing. I had met a man who had a pig farm in south dakota, another who lived in mexico and was setting up a whore house and both assured me I would live as cattle, trained to be an animal.

One thing you may get the impression of me, is I hate half measures. I prefer the concept of in for a penny, in for a pound. Imagine picking a master, after getting the courage to serve lifelong as a slave and accept someone elses rules, giving up your own freewill only to never be pushed or challenged. Imagine the irony of finding all he wanted was a kinky girlfriend who wouldn't complian about loading the dishwasher and you had thought you were going to get the treatment of a true trained slave.

Well thats one reason for a trial and a contract, you see that spells out the requirements. So when you look them over, do you see anything that shocks or scares you? that makes you uncomfortable? thats the goal, because if you are comfortable, then its not really slavery. If you are "Forced" to do things you already want to do anyway, its really just freewill with a little pretense someone told you to do it. I guess thats the real oxymoron of it, because in aggreeing to the contract you must have wanted this, despite that when you get there you may be crying, begging, whining, your compliance really does show you want it.

And so, with some of those more extreme men if it had not been for Abbey, I surely would have ended up tethered out in some cow pasture and stable, at least for a few years of my life, trying desperately to either scare myself out of this, or to find my place in life and the way I deserve.

Yet, because of my childs involvement in my life, I could not simply agree to these extreme demands, for it would only be a matter of time before at the very least with absolutely no respect/authority I would have to either answer to her fully or she may be expected to join me. This would be a sexually charged household with women coming and going (mostly cumming) who serve as furniture nude or are strung up on crosses with dildos shoved into their holes. No one could grow up in that place without being so strongly affected that eventually she would simply have to choose to participate, because you couldn't simply march around oblivious to that kind of open training unaffected.

Indeed, Master William's plan involved her knowing some of these things, but thats because there was really not any choice if we were going to do it right, but his plan was a comrpimise, the goal was not to make BDSM training seem so 'normal' and 'typical' that Abbey would likely assume this was meant for her as well as any other females she sees, nor was it made to make her simply an obstacle that we sneak around and hide everything from, because in doing that the house of cards we would build would eventually collapse if we underestimate how smart and observant someone like her can be. Anyone, even someone who has read this far into my story would figure out something was up when they saw a big training collar, manacles on my wrists and shackles on my legs after a few years of living in the same house with us, and I had indeed agreed to permanently wear them as a sign of my obedience.

a common misconception by many men is that people don't know what BDSM is, and its not mainstream. If you've checked your email box lately, there is probably spam about taboo kinks of 10 years ago, treated as if it was good old fashioned trip to hooters for wings and some T&A goggling. Hot Topic in the mall sells big leather collars and everyone has seen goth girls in the mall, everyone pretty much can see the collar and process what it may mean.


My Family: (who didn't live with me)

Connie (my mom) had a small house in missisipi on the border of Memphis, and while she had been married several times, she was currently without a boyfriend. She would take in one of my brothers or sisters, and their kids usually rotating them around as they get through one catastrophe after the next. In the 1970's she had probably been a bit "cool" and smoked dope, but now she was a bible thumper who was trying to be a genuine nice lady. Still she could lay out the guilt as easily as she could lay out a table of food. Usually the holidays center around her house, because no one else in the family seems to really want to deal with that.

My brothers (all older than me) had sort of been there to provide me with wet willies, indian arm burns, pink bellies, noogies, wedgies, pull ya down and wrestle you to the ground and hair pulling wrestling growing up, and I sort of became stronger for it. I was the type who could peirce them with my eyes and stone cold face, and my eyebrows arched, I was in short a little bitch all my life. I got my way without a lot of yelling or complaining, but with a lot of attitude. I found that if you look into the background of most true subbies, you'll find she too is something of a firebrand and its that pendulum that swings the hardest to the submissive side when it finally does.

For their part, the easiest way to describe them is to picture in your mind a black 1980 style camaro with a firebird painted on the hood. Foreigner's "Hot Blooded" playing in the stereo. Mullets and a Football jersey half-shirt with the number 69 and "Skyrnd" across the back of it. I am basically saying white trash.

My earliest memories of them is cussing and them talking about boobies, poop, lighting their fats. Embarresing stories abound growing up with step dads and my mom, they had problems wetting the bed, Danny used to throw his underwear up on the roof if he crapped them at night until one day someone went up there and saw what was a mountain of dried up boys drawers and my step dad beat his ass red. He just laughed at the man, and that kind of defiance actually inspired me to be sort of the tough one as well.

To deal with them the best I could, I was tougher than they were. I would use my attitude to put them in their place. A good joke in their mind, while growing up was to wait until you were in the bathroom run in (they can pop a lock like nobodies business with a a close hanger if it comes to that) and either yell "EEWW who farted" or steal your towel and clothes and slam the door. Now in a house with that many kids (there were six of us) you can't very well get used to the notion of privacy. There were times when all six of us shared a room with Terry on the couch in the front room. There were times when almost all of us took a bath together or in shifts (Girls first, boys second) because who draws bath water for six kids in a row? you'd have to start taking baths around 6:30PM if you had. There wasn't time to really concern yourself with privacy and to someone who never knows it,or the concept that a toy is exclusively 'yours'its not as bad as you may think.Still the jokes were never anything brutal or rape like, but there was often an element of humiliation or sexuality to it. I didn't think much of it at the time, only as I say the devil (The web) told me that guys really had thoughts about their sisters, beyond the stuff you see on Springer with redneck hillbillies.

We had truth or dare games involving stripping your clothes when we were kids, and maybe running out to the fence naked when no one could see. At that time, I had misquito bites for ta-tas and was more concerned about them seeing those, then my butt or pussy. I was a virgin until I was 19 but basically my brothers had given me an education in what boys bodies look like and what boys talk about, and probably led to me being more than able to wait some time to find out first hand what they felt like.

I simply hadn't been very sexually interested growing up as a teenager. The truth or dare games and the stealing of towels ended around the time I hit twelve or so. Let me also not give you the impression that had been the entire focus of their mean little existances, seeing me or tormenting me. They would torment my sisters more so than me, I didn't provide as much fun because I bit back and would never hesistate to bust them out to mom or laugh at their failures. They also were merciless to one another. More than one fourth of july ended with someones entire horde of toys being strapped to fireworks and thrown out a window. They were equal opportunity in their jokes, but all this was totally natural behavior given our background and education. Simple white trash, plain and simple.

An offensive word to some, but lets face it, growing up poor in the south, a lot of times in a trailer park, thats the definition.

Terry the oldest, 10 years almost to the day older than me, with his thin black mustache, he is now a carpenter. His girlfriend and her stepson still live closest to my mom, and every now and then he gets drunk and gets a DUI but otherwise he seems to have 'grown up'. I guess if I had to tell one funny story about Terry, its that one time he got his hands on what he thought were some combos. It turns out they were dog biscuits that were shaped like combos (you know, sort of little pigs in a blanket type biscuits). Anyway, we all had a good laugh when he finished the bag, and we would sing atomic dog to him "Dog Catcher, Dog Catcher, bow wow wow, yippy yo, yippy yay". I had told William that little tidbit, which was really the only interesting thing I can recall about Terry and he silently made note of it for what was to come. Terry has a step son who is half vietnamese named David as well by another woman he married, but Terry and I don't stay in touch much. The idea of a computer is probably a bit of a waste on Terry, but all of them know Mortal Kombat codes on a sega genesis despite being grown men and revel in doing the same exact move over and over on each other in a cartidge game like that.

Jeff the next oldest, is sort of the suave one. He has a little bit of a "Wigger" style, you know where you are a white boy with a fade and a little african-american style about you. He had a lot of problems stealing cars and breaking into homes, but truth be told, if you need him to help you move or something, you can usually count on him to show up (a little late, and probably take some of your stuff, but hey, its better than nothing). Jeff is an eternal ladies man, with different trailer park girlfriends, and its my understanding that Jeff escorted older ladies and possibly men in his early twenties. This fact is something of a sorespot for Jeff who will usually respond with a punch to the nose if you press him as a 'faggot'. He has a few tribal tattoos on his arms, and as a roofer I think he works with Terry during the day.

Danny the baby, is a few yearsolder than me, stocky and with a baby face. He was always my moms favorite. Jeff and Danny had a different dad. I think that there was something about his birth and her spending time with him that endeared him to her, and so he kind of got a little of the spoiling. They all do drug,s heck all of us have tried it, but Danny is the kind who goes all out. Crack, Coke, you name it. Danny and Jeff are alot alike, and very much closer than Terry is to them. Usually when growing up it was Danny and Jeff against Terry in games until eventually Jeff proved to be the most athletic. Danny has a girlfriend he lives with on and off again.

Now when I danced, they all came to the club I worked at in Memphis and hung out. Individually or together, but usually with friends. Again, I never thought much of it, my sisters all worked there at one time or another as well, so it was kind of our place, and I didn't mind at all. I didn't think of it as 'dirty' that my brothers saw me as a dancer, for I hadn't thought of dancing as humiliating. I was in control,the type who challenged men with a finger in their face and said "Want a dance, fucker?" and if they didn't respond well I enjoyed embarressing them as "cheap-asses". I wasn't a gorgeous model, but for the little dump I had chosen to work at, I was sort of hot stuff and I knew it, and I could get away with that kind of behavior.

With my brothers, they all tried to get me to get them a free drink(s) or to introduce them to an easy stripper. I'd just laugh at them and bust them out (as I had done as we were growing up) announcing to whomever was around "Oh god, Danny I am not going to set your trailer park ass up with any of these girls, get a life, you loser!". It was my nature, probably no one expected out of me any less a response, yet they asked.

They even came to me by themselves at one point or another and asked me or Kim for a table dance. Usually they would be drunk and broke and seeking a free one. Again, I wasn't thinking any of them were interested in me in "that way", it was just something a horny desperate drunk guy does to get a pity dance or whatever from a friend or in this case his sister. You know how a guy you meet says "Hey, want to be fuck buddies?" or something, thinking that somehow there is something in it for you. Anyway, for those times I'd make sure to bust them out, and they would say "Oh shit, Sherry I was just seeing if you'd fall for it" or "hah, I just wanted to see if you'd do it"

MY sisters:

Kim, is a few years younger than me. I guess growing up we always looked a lot alike in the face. I think my role as her self-appointed protecter growing up made me tougher and maybe robbed her of the commen sense to see when a trap is about to be sprung on you. She is a little shorter than me, and somehow when she was about 19 or so, she just plumped up. She got with a guy and he sort of turned her "Country". She had a son named "Jesse James" who by now is about 12 years old, and with a face full of freckles and howdy doody red hair has to have had his butt kicked every day at school, and my understanding is he calls her 'bitch' and 'motherFer' and punches her arm, and she sits there glued to the toob. I guess her passive nature would have made her a better subbie than me, but I chalk it up to just lack of ambition and stupidity.

I thought I was helping Kim out when she was younger and got her a job as a dancer (after about a day as a cocktail waitress when she realized what she wanted to do). Unlike me, when I danced I was sort of the queen bee, she was sort of the club joke. I had laughed about girls like her, who get so totally drunk to the point the money they made falls out their garter or wrapped around their fingers, and they make asses of themslves. I sort of regret getting her into it, because once she did, she liked the popularity and met a drug dealer (Also named Danny) and started dancing to country music.

I'd deny we were sisters, but if guys really pressed the issue and wanted us to dance together, I would do it for 60-80 bucks. The thing is, at the time again I didn't realize that was really taboo. I thought of men who wanted to see us dance together as just stupid idiots who wanted to waste their money watching two women dance when they could have us each individually dance. We didn't lez out or anything, we just sort of danced in place next to each other.

I Can't recall anything story wise (and thats probably good for you, because you want me to get to the narrative I am sure) but I guess the only things that stand out, is when I got a bike for Christmas when I was like 11, and she turned beet red and literally had a conniption on the floor for it. My step dad at the time decided to lower my bike and give it to her, and promised to get me another one later. Naturally, he 'forgot' to get me one, and so eventually that sort of became a sore spot between us, we'd sort of be competitive about things, and gloat a little.

Ashley was about nine years younger than me, so I didn't really get to know her. She was a baby during my teen years and I recall changing her damned diaper all the time. Eventually she went to live with one of my step dads about the time I was 13 and so I lost touch with her. She eventually made her way back to memphis about the time she turned 17 and so I got her dancing as well. She quickly got into the life, and well much cuter and all, I think it was about that time I was pregnant with Abbey so I kind of sponged off the 'new girl' by assocation with me, she was instantly 'cool' and by association with her, I probably seemed a little more cute. Anyway, we didn't really know each other that well, but we did have a lot of common interests in music (Alice in Chains for instance was something I really liked and I had all the CDs in my own case). I was in denial I was pregnant until I was about three months or so, and then I switched clubs, and lost touch with her. I had spent about five years at the first club, and I switched because basically they weren't letting me get away with the mountain of bullshit I had once done and I wasn't working as often.

In the time I worked at the smaller club it was five dollar dances. Which only later in life had I realized had been humiliating, because you really had to dry hump a guy and all you got was the cost of a value meal at mcDonalds. Naturally, only after reading about it on the web did I recognize it for what it was.

I had charged well over the 20 dollars at my first club, always saying "Its twenty, plus tip" and done my level best to ask on songs about a quarter of way already started. It was just an extra minute or so of effort, but as far as I was concerned I really didn't see the customers as anything other than sheep to be fleeced, and anything I can do, to make them feel stupid was my right. I and several other girls even had a little game we would play, we would bend down in front of a cheapy and wag our butt in his face and then silently let out a fart. then we'd walk away, and usually another of us would come over and go "God, who farted, YOU?" it was our inside joke. We had a lot of time on our hands I guess, and when you drink every night, you think up stupid ways to amuse yourself, like for instance we used to tip the DJ to play "White Lion "Wait" for our friend and see if she could dance to it with a straight face (its pretty cheesy) and then you'd try to one up each other. I had a few other friends who were sort of my regular friends, Stormy for instance, and its probably stuff like that, that at the time was just a goof that later when I would think about what attracted me to slavery, I wanted somehow to relive, only not always as the laughing bitch whose shit didn't stink, who always seemed to win, and didn't care or notice if she didn't, I'd just smoke and drink and make an excuse like "Oh fuck him" as I would notice a regular of mine start favoring a new girl when I had been mean to him and ignored him to amuse myself, or waited til the nice old man passed out and took money out of his wallet and put it back.

I could tell you a hundred or so stories that happened in the club, much of which might amuse you or paint the story of pity for me and my upbringing, but then this would be less about that Christmas holiday that I want to share with you, and more about a titty club. Suffice to say that the little club I worked in had its share of dramas, of bitches with razor blades in their mouths who would fight each other. Of stanky girls with dreams of being a 'feature' who brought stanky ice cream on stage and proceeded to pack their stanky bodies with it and let stanky customers eat it off stanky spoons. At the time, I would mock those stanky women and their trailer park dreams of grandeur, their soul goal in life to see their stage name mispelled and missing a letter out on the marquis on Lamar Avenue for "Wdnesday night Ice Cream with Frnkie and Delilllah". Of all the stories though that one struck me as interesting, because after the show they would walk still drippiing from melted ice cream (and if you ever smell a gallon of melted ice cream after a while it has a sour smell to it) wearing nothing but high heels and a smile to the back of the club, under a parking lot light next to a dumpster and let the goofy little door guy spray them down with a garden hose (Which he crimped just to prolong it) even in the cold. Again, not realizing at the time, just how humiliating a slow walk like that through a crowd of dull-eyed mexican s and rednecks with one other woman, and even a catty bitch like me sitting their smoking with a "So-what" look on my face could do to you, but only if you realized it was humiliation. For their part, neither of them seemed to be aware of it.

Oh it was a very detailed life, guys named "SS" or "Terminator" at the door, and DJ's named "Trick" or "Country" playing White Zombie, Rage against the machine and then R. Kelly for some black girl. I could write an entire book about all the people I met there, and I tried once to write a story about basically what might have happened back then if I had gone and worked at a black club out on Brooks road and ended up in the white slave trade. I am sure now that I have more time to think about it, that story would be even better, but you know what?

I came to hate writing about things that never happened or can't happen. Can't happen because the time has passed and those people have moved on (although there is always some one just as dysfunctional to take their place), but also because they don't make white slaves at Brooks blvd clubs. Its a dump, but you just pay your house fees and dance there. In fact, since I am kind of twisted and am hoping for a good reason to have to serve, its almost impossible for me to end up in a situation like one of my stories. They always involve a woman happily going through life and someone who decides to make her life hell, blackmailing her, getting her to agree to play his games and take his tests and heck, truth is thats just fantasy.

So those stories just sit on my computer never doing anything. I have sent them to some friends who run websites, some I have met in person, others I wish I had. Not going for mass appeal or wide spread exposure, but I like that someone may get a thrill out of my early writing. However, now I write about things that seem like they could happen, TO ME. Because I want to see if they WILL happen to me, and if I write them well enough, I can live it out in my head before hand and remove some of the risk of painting yourself in a corner you can never return from. You see, for all my talk of submissiveness, I am also careful, and while I want to give up control, I want to be sure that I at least have a general idea of what I am signing my ass over for. so many people go into this with the naive notion of "Well, I do whatever I am told and don't ask questions" but I just couldn't be satisfied with that.

Heck, who am I kidding, its also fun to think out, and if I am a little wet writing this, then I am hoping you as the reader are going to get aroused. Perhaps even before I get to the narrative?

So in the final analysis what I decided to do, was get out on the web and meet guys who might be real Masters. I could also write books about my experiences good and bad with that, and have written quite about it. The short of it, is there are losers and wannabes who hang out the "Master" shingle and take up 8 rooms on MSN in a desperate attempt to trick a woman into thinking he may be a master and that she should come serve. There are proffesionals out there who have a business and they find willing women who are willing to work for cheap or free, housewives who want a week of sluttyness before returning to housewife life after being hunted with paintballs or escorting for some real life pimp. If you talk to 999 people, I'd say you might meet 1 who is genuine and capable of providing kind of what I am seeking.

Then you got to exchange photos, a contract, phone, and thats usually where I lose them. The phone is always a big step for me, because it means I gotta go walk to a payphone or put money on my cell phone, and stand there and talk, and who knows, this image I have them in my head as powerful beings will be punctuated with "ums" and small talk and "Wow, so its nice to talk to you" and they become more real nice guys and less the gods I tend to hold them in by this stage. I met a master in Florida, whose voice just didn't match his well muscled form, dark hair and mustache, powerful angry eyes just like Master William. Yes, this was a man I could really fall for, but he is married (she is into D/s as well) and I was just a summertime plaything, nothing in common really. They couldn't/wouldn't maintain a 24/7 thing, she and I did the same rules while I was there, but I think he knew it was exhausting fot them both to maintain a MAster slave relationship all the time. Anyway, his voice sounded a little high pitched and quaky on the phone. Just blew it for me. I resolved that when I move to phone its just to talk quick so he can't put his foot in his mouth, and that the contract will be read on tape infront of a camera to show consenting as opposed to that. Usually after the phone it may be a few weeks before I could visit, and each time I did, I ended up losing furniture or my apartment or whatever, but each time I came back with the idea that material possessions were just trappings and if I wanted to live as an object I had to get rid of my desire to covet them. This healthy attitude about poverty comes in handy when its just you, but when you to raise an 8 year old, its just impractical.

Now that I had met Master William, I had agreed to come and be trained and in the next part I will tell you about that experience that led up the Christmas Holidays.

 

[sherry_85]

PART TWO: THE HOLIDAY CHALLENGE

We spent a long time talking as we waited for the date of my training, about likely scenarios of training before I came. I had mentioned my family and eventually talk turned to the possibility of visiting them or them to visit us.

Master initially seemed to disregard the possibility since his relationship with his own family seemed to be somewhat distant if at all and while none of them would really be surprised he had no desire to telegraph to them basically what he was about. He just never really looked at it as any kind of gain, why would he?


Well we were talking, and so one day an off-handed joke about daring him to hint that I am property around the dinner table turns into talk of a real game of cat and mouse. You see aside from Abbey the only people that I am really worried about seeing me humiliated or ones who know me, as even vanilla strangers don't matter that much. So being grown up now and somewhat distant, but still trashy, the idea that my brothers might get the idea I am property and watch me as I am forced to admit men are superior to women through clenched teeth really seemed to be a challenge.

We quickly started talking about all manner of possibilities and consequences to coming for a visit with the intention of hinting at what I am, in a game of mental chicken. The first one to sort of back down and get uncomfortable (me or him) would lose the game, and if I don't back down I would eventually have to reveal who I am, possibly in such a way that I would never be welcome to return. Leaving behind who I was, and becoming "Butt" the slave.

What was the goal? At first Master thought it was only a distraction, or some of many exercises he had planned to break me down a bit, probably a little over the top and impractical to warrant a trip to Memphis when he had plenty of people there to expose who and what I am too who be equally as shocked, or so it seemed.

But then I realized, and we talked through the fact that if I come there to visit them when they are in a group, and dangle the truth before them, if fate decides they not 'get it' and I am not forced to reveal myself then so be it, perhaps I would come back again another year. As well Abbey should see her family I guess, but I had plenty of years to come visit them and I would usually never come up for XMAS or thanksgiving, just too far from North Carolina and after one of my trips I had my car Repo'd now anyway, so I had lots of excuses why I wouldn't have too.

I also realized that if Sir *MADE* me, keep the agreement then in many ways it would not be I who revealed what I am, but circumstance. It would be easier to excuse gifting them with the knowledge, and possibly the payback involved in getting one "over" on Sister Sherry, not that any of them were chomping at the bit for revenge or anything, they had gone on with their lives and we never really had that kind of relationship where they would give anything to be cruel to me.

I realized that if as adults, who were already a little twisted, I would not be revealing myself to the eyes of innocents. They would most likely be amused, but I warned Master that he might get a knuckle sandwich, because they have this testosterone requirement to protect their sister, even if they themselves as kids had done much worse than harsh words or smacking my butt. (never rape, or incest or anything mind you, not think thats what happened) but they had been rough little cusses who would steal your lunch money or lunch box or possibly cum into a magazine of yours and you not realize what it is, until you go to open it and go "Oh jeezus, is this what I think it is? oh gross" and all three of them come laughing for the prank they pulled three weeks ago finally being found out, as if it was hilarious to you as well.

I realized that humiliation (not being an extrovert) can be good for the soul and to cleanse prideful behavior. That for humiliation to work you must care whether you are seen or not. The difference between an extrovert and the humiliated is an extrovert works so hard to be seen and hopes too, and the humiliated reddens and gets embarrassed.

For humiliation to be effective, you must run the risk of being seen or be seen, or interact with someone who might be a little shocked. For instance, if you are bent down on all fours as an ottoman naked serving as furniture around a bunch of people already into D/s they'd be bored somewhat. IF you have to do it and there is a chance the door handle will jiggle and in walks four dorky brothers of yours, or the maid from the hotel, or whomever well now you got that adrenalin squirting all around your tummy.

So here was the game plain and simple:

From Monday December 15th to January 2nd we were planning to come for Christmas Break with my child, and stay with my mom. Usually people come down and stay for a day before and after the holiday at the most, but Sir insisted we needed some seeding time. In that time, it could be up to 15 people from our family and friends showing up including their boyfriends, girlfriends, kids and so on and so it might get fairly packed in a three bedroom house.

There was to be a series of events, for you see as we talked it evolved into sharing with my Master some risks and allowing him to experience a little of the challenge. Masters goal in this was to wag our life in their face without actually coming right out and telling them, but more importantly to push me to the point of uncomfortablity.

My goal as it was starting to get harder and harder to see what the point of this affair was, was not to destroy my family or offend them, not really. I realized that might be an actual possibility even though they weren't prudish rich people (As they would have been if this were an internet fictional story I mentioned before) with vested interests in the community in which hint of scandals would ruin their careers. They were just your average poor southern white family. My goal was to cooperate with Master even where it wasn't specified below as long as it wasn't explicitly stated what I was, if they guess and find me out then so be it, and as you read the rules, you will start to see why I had little doubt I would need much effort to make this happen.

The question of why I was doing this came up in my mind several times. The real reasons behind this other than it might be good for a laugh, was its kind of like that road to redemption story, a means to strip away and old life and to begin a new one, and if fate declared I had not tried hard enough, then I could count on Master to make me try harder. It was also a chance to tell them the truth without having to actually want to tell them the truth. Thats pretty profound and self-realizing, and you dear reader probably want to read some dirty parts, so I'll move on.

THE HOLIDAY GAME:

1-Pre-Butt: Before I was to be known as Butt, I was called Sherry and so the Prebutt stage of the game is the most elaborate. Its when I answer to the name Sherry, and we don't overtly advertise what I am. We would have trained before I got there, but while In Prebutt stage here were the rules:

1-I could dress in "normal" clothes (as long as they appear a little slutty, which will fit right in), but the manacles, shackles and metal collar was to remain on. If anyone ASKS about it, I have to say "I wear them because William thinks its cool"

2- I would have to call all men Sir and all women Ma'am unless they tell me not too.

3- I Am not allowed to accept an apology, thanks or welcome, or to be told to have a 'nice day'. I can apologize and thank others, and if I am asked why I am to say "I am not worthy of thanks, (Sir or Ma'am)"

4-I have certain freebies I must do, during the course of the trip that are simply out there for his amusement
A) I must be offered by him for any chore, including yard work and try to help no matter what. Bring in luggage, groceries, clean up the house (despite my moms feeling guests should not help)
B) IF cutting the grass, I must do it in a bikini even if its cold outside and heeled sandals
C) IF washing a car for someone, I must do it in only a white shirt and barefeet.
D) IF helping to serve dinner I must not sit until everyone has eaten and Sir tells me to sit.
E) If doing laundry, I am to wear only a bath towel and explain "I wanted to make sure all of the clothes provided for me are washed (Sir or Ma'am)" until the clothes are air dried (mom has a laundry line) if asked why I am wearing just a towel
F) I am not to close the door when I go to the bathroom or shower and act as if I hadn't noticed, or thought it was a big deal, unless someone shuts it for me or tells me to shut it, from then on I may shut the door. When I brush my teeth I am to first rub the brush on my pussy and then apply the tooth paste. When I apply makeup or blow dry my hair I am to leave the door open. I may use toilet paper without asking for permission.
G) If Sir whispers to me that I have a peeper in (room), I am to immediately head to the room he told me, and pretend as though I do not notice who is hidden there as best I can unless they reveal themselves. I am to then do something strange like pee on the ground and lick it up, or masturbate with a lighter. So that if they want to tell on me,it would sound too weird to be believed. I am to spend atleast 5 minutes in there and if they reveal themselves to me, I am to beg them not to tell anyone else. I cannot make any promises but direct them to "My owner William" for how to handle this.
H) Master can make me put on a ventriloquist show with him in the house, as I sit on his lap and he with his hand up my skirt, I am to ad-lib along with his jokes. We are to prepare in advance, but he warns me he will roast my relatives and I will be the one delivering the punch lines as the 'dummy'.
I) Master will tell me he is finished at the dinner table, and expect me to wordlessly scrape in one lump all of his left overs onto my plate. If anyone else should do the same, I am to repeat the same procedure and not leave the table until all food is eaten or given permission.
J) I am to openly ask Master if I may accept a gift, may use the bathroom, eat or drink, and if I may wear my clothes and do that within earshot of at least one other person. I am to accept his response either way and apologize/thank the person even if it is a gag gift even as if it I appreciated it truly. I am to use the phrase "Sir may I have some water?" for instance in this. If Master is not around and its an emergency I may ask the eldest male in the room if I truly must do this. If a male is not around I am to ask the eldest female. If I am the only other person in the room and its a gift they want to give me, then I must thank them and tell them to give it to me in front of William.
H) If after three separate times Terry is at the house and it has not been revealed I am a slave, master is free at any time to bring out a bag of "Combos" (Dog biscuits) and say "Look Sherry, combos..aren't you hungry? these are you favorite aren't they?" to which I must reply "Yes they are Sir". I may not make eye contact with Terry the entire time. When I have finished eating the entire bag, Sir will be allowed to bring out the box they originally came in and say "Oh these weren't combos". I will still have to say that I liked them no matter what kind of laughter or tittering occurs.
I) Within the first week, Master may organize a strip poker or blackjack game with any one. I will play and lose at least three hands for every four and say "I am not very good" when I have on only panties Master will offer me a chance at double or nothing but say "If you lose though, you stay naked until midnight tomorrow"
J) Master may whisper to me one night that it is 'chatty cathy night". If there is company I will begin to talk alot. Master will say nothing and leave the room and emerge with duct tape, which he will pull, cut and then place over my mouth mid-sentence. I will just look at him and shut up.
J) I will agree to ride in the trunk or on a lap if we are riding more than 4 to a car.
K) I will agree to finish any flat soda or beer if it is no more than 2 days open, if ordered to do so, even if it has spit or gum floating in it.
L) If Master burps or farts, I will take the credit for having done it.


5) Master will be allowed to tell me to "Fetch my" and I must immediately get up and bring it back and stand before him with it in both hands awaiting his notice for him to take it without raising my voice. If anyone catches on that the word fetch gets this response, I am to do it for them as well without hesitation but in order of precedence (Master First, Eldest Males, if no males then eldest females). If anyone tells me "Thank you" I am to respond "You are welcome Sir, I just love to serve" or "You are welcome Ma'am, I just love to serve".

6) Depending on where we are assigned to sleep, if it is after 10PM I can be told "Sherry get ready for bed" by Master to which I must reply "Yes Sir" and immediately go to the room and remove my clothes and lay down on the floor and await him. IF we are to sleep in the front room or share rooms with people and I have not yet been revealed as a slave, then I will go to the room despite anyone who is in there and change into a bra and panties and lay on the floor. Master may allow me to sleep in a bed or on the couch. If the house has too many people Master may offer to allow me to sleep in the car, to which I will say I do not mind. If that is the case, I will go outside in bra and panties and lock myself in the backseat and sleep until morning. If we have been there for five days or more and I have not been revealed as a slave I am to come out late for breakfast nude and sit at the table, before "accidentally" noticing I have no clothes on and apologize for oversleeping. I will look at Master who will give me permission to go put some clothes on for breakfast. I will be told to walk, not to run back to the room to change.


7) I am to try to remain cheery about the situation and seem enthusiastic as much as possible even when a logical reaction by someone is to be disapointed and complain. If I complain master may spank my ass hard wherever I stand, the number of spanks is up to him.
I must try to smile and if I am smiling he must stop spanking. (I tend to frown or have a serious expression, especially when training)


HOW I can LOSE:

-IF I am asked point blank by someone in the family what I am, or if I am a slave or property I have to admit I am property of Master William, and have been undergoing training as a slave because all men are superior to females. I will then lose the game and face the consequences.

-If I use the words "NO", "I prefer not", "I can not" or "I will not" in the family room or area. I have to stand up look straight ahead immediately and I have to admit I am property of Master William, and have been undergoing training as a slave because all men are superior to females. I will then lose the game and face the consequences. If I need to say No, I am to simply nod.

-If Sir is asked point blank if I am his slave or property, he must explain that I am and then have me stand up and confirm it by admitting that I believe all men are superior to females. I will then lose the game and face the consequences.

-If someone is watching me do something gross and unusual (4G) and they decide to tell everyone what I did, I am to admit I am devious and that is why I have been being trained by Master William to channel those lusts, as a slave because all men are superior to females. I will then lose the game and face the consequences.

-If sir wins "His Game" before this one is over, then this one is over because I will be revealed fully, I will have lost.

WHAT HAPPENS IF I LOSE

If I should lose it depends on their reactions what happens next. However, it won't be up to me to decide. Once It is known to any individual that I am a slave, they will be told by Master that they may privately be allowed by Master to:

-spank/touch/tickle/Kick/slap/punch/pull/tug or generally be mean to me and I will thank them
-Spit on me or in my mouth and tell me to hold open my mouth
-Tell me to stand at attention in private
-Tell me to crawl in private
-Tell me to get naked in private and lap dance for them

I will also be extra polite and subservient, showing respect.

If it is known by the majority of the house, Master will reveal and demonstrate that I will:

-spank/touch/tickle/Kick/slap/punch/pull/tug or generally be mean to me and I will thank them in the house and that short of a mouth kiss I am not to resist.
-Spit on me or in my mouth and tell me to hold open my mouth
-Tell me to stand at attention in the house
-Tell me to sit on their lap, or to be a footstool
-Tell me to crawl in the house
-Tell me to get naked in the house
-Tell me to eat out of a dog dish any table scraps that are not greater than 2 days old.
-Tell me to clean any mess
-Tell me to fetch anything

I will also be extra polite and subservient, showing respect and never complaining or accept a spanking on the spot.
I will get into a cage if Master can set one up to sleep in after 10pm if he lets me out by 5AM and puts up the cage.

If Master fails to tell them they may order these things and ask him for permission on just about anything. The Master will explain orders of precedence, orders from him are carried out first, and the oldest male next to the youngest, following that any females from oldest to youngest. So A 18 year old male can counter a 55 year old females orders for me.

All presents will be said to be from Master, and I will admit to anyone who asks that as property I may not give anything on my behalf, and apologize.

If I am revealed 2 days or more before Christmas, Sir will ask my mom if it is alright for me to spend 12 hours as a Tree. If she agrees, whether no one comes over or not, I am to stand in the front room naked and allow anyone who wishes to decorate me with ornaments, strings, lights, and not speak. This will not occur on Christmas morning unless every adult agrees that it is okay otherwise it should happen before christmas eve. I am for my part to admit(even through clenched teeth) that I would like to be a tree decoration for as long as I am allowed.

If I am revealed 2 days or more before New Years Eve, even if I served as a tree or not, Sir will ask my mom if she agrees, that on New Years Eve itself from 8pm to 1pm I am to be a ball drop. I am to hold a ball and be decorated as aparty ornament and lower it each hour bending as I do until my butt faces directly up and I am bent at the waist to the ground. I will remain from midnight until 1am in that position allowing them to stick pinwheels, rattlers, noise makers, drinks, and party favors on me etc. without complaint nad to admit I want to do this.

WHAT HAPPENS IF I CHICKEN OUT:
(not the same as losing)

-IF I chicken out with this and *ASK* Sir if we can leave, I lose but my only penalty is I gather up our stuff, carry it out to the car and make sure its good and packed. Then when master tells me he is ready, he is to say that We have one too many bags and to leave it here" I will then unload the things in my bag at my moms house and admit that I am property and no longer need any material items such as hair blowers and dresses. I am to remove the clothes I have on if he orders it and walk with him naked eyes front to the car and not say a word as we drive off. Only after a few miles will Sir allow me to put on a T-shirt for the rest of the drive home.

WHAT HAPPENS IF HE CHICKENS OUT:
(not the same as losing)

-IF he chickens out and feels uncomfortable and wants to leave without first being asked what I am or revealing me as a slave, then he will tell me we have to "go back right away"
We will gather up our stuff and say our goodbyes within 10 minutes even if its the middle of the night. If he chickens out when we get home he has agreed to suck off a dog in front of me until it completes within seven days of our return. As he has supreme confidence he won't chicken out, he at first had an issue with the idea but then realized that he wouldn't have to pay because he thought this was impossible.

HOW I can WIN:

--If Sir is asked point blank if I am his slave or property, and he does not answer yes directly, then I win.

--If its jan 2nd and we are leaving without having revealed me as slave or property then I win.

WHAT HAPPENS IF I WIN:

#1: We return next year to play again, until they know the truth.

#2: Sir gives $250 in Christmas presents to Abbey from me.

SPECIAL RULE: ABBEY
Unfortunately, because I will have been trained prior to this hell week reunion, there is no way to keep this secret from Abbey that I am have already chosen to live as a slave and property. We will ask her to play along and not mention it to anyone.

AS I would be a hypocrites hypocrite, to think that I can shield her in some special way and not extend those rules to anyone else’s kid who happens to be around, it will be explained to her by Master that I will have to call her Ma'am in order to be consistent and that she is to be rewarded for going along with it with additional Christmas presents.

IF she opens her mouth anyway and explains that I am a slave or freaks out, then I am to follow the same procedure as if I chickened out.

SPECIAL RULE: Before the trip, I will record myself on tape or cassette reading allowed our game rules with Master. At the end we will laugh at how funny this will be. The tape may be left behind if I chicken out, but only if Master does not plan to return.

If it is proven that I am a slave, or there is some question, Master may bring out the tape and show it if he wishes.

Master may not tell anyone how to win the game, so it would be as if he chickened out if he should share with them the rules of the game or how to win/lose during or before the game.

Master may not auction, sell, trade, even in the short term my services (As we discussed during any other terms of my training) while I am on the holiday game.

MASTERS GAME:

GOAL/GENERAL RULES:
Master is very good at seduction and on a dare, he has accepted the challenge of seducing my mother. It is very unlikely to me,and actually makes me laugh to think of her, getting her 'freak on', I hate to admit. The stakes are very high.

This game is like throwing a dart at a bullseye. Phase one is the outer ring and phase three is the bullseye. It is possible Master will achieve similar results to these and he will confer privately with me as to what that counts as.

HOW HE WINS:

-If Master seduces my mom he wins, he must bring back her used panties or a Polaroid of her in the act/nude obviously posing for him he wins phase one

-If Master can shave my mom and bring back the pubic hair, or have proof he convinced her to smoke a joint he wins phase two

-If Master convinces her to participate in BDSM to the degree of handcuffs/blindfolds and brings back pictures he wins phase three

-If Master asks my mom to live with us as a slave or mistress, I will accept her choice and do what is required of me to live with her as property.

HOW HE LOSES:

-If Master has failed to seduce my mom before January 2nd then he loses.


WHAT HE GETS IF HE WINS:

Phase one:
IF Master wins Phase one, then I automatically lose "My Game" and must admit I am property and a slave the following morning by goose-stepping out naked in handcuffs with my mouth duct taped and my mothers panties within my gag. He will tear off the tape and remove the gag long enough for me to admit that I am property and a slave and that we had a bet that he could not have my mother, and I lost. That men are superior to females and that I am property. He may then reinsert the gag, I will remain like that for the duration of breakfast at which time if we are accepted Master may allow me to get dressed and we follow the rules as if I had lost my game above and everyone pretty much knows that.

Phase Two:
If masters victory is phase two, then he may at any time during the visit that he decides I should "come out" tape the hair like a mustache to my face or pin the polaroid to my body and write "I have been a bad, bad girl" on my body depending. He may then leash me and walk me on all fours out to the front room where he will admit what he did with my mother and what he is doing to me and that I am property. I will then be allowed to confirm this and we will follow the rules if I had lost my game above, except that I will rarely be allowed to wear clothes by Master during the rest of the trip and I will spend most of my time on my hands and knees unless everyone disapproves, in which case we will prepare to leave immediately.

In addition Master may bind me with handcuffs, wooden cuffs, tie me to a wall as per our training agreement for bondage openly if he dares.

In addition, Master may allow me to provide sexual relief to anyone who ASKS me to, but he may not offer it, nor make it known to them that they can ask.

Phase Three: Bullseye
Master may paint me like a target and lead me downstairs as in phase two, and he may practice shooting a plastic dart gun at my body after we have admitted what I am and that men are superior to women. Master may tether me in the kitchen if no one freaks out, and will take a bowl of cereal go to the bathroom and pee in it and return and set it on the floor for me to eat. I will spend the rest of the week following the rules of my training as if we were in Masters house unless everyone disapproves, in which case we will prepare to leave immediately.

IF HE LOSES:

Master must admit at the end of the visit to at least three (my mom, brothers or sisters) that were there in person or in phone, that he paid me to do these nasty things all week and ask them for forgiveness. We will not admit I am a slave, but that I had been paid to do this and I may act like a 'normal' person for the last two days of the trip.


Naturally after reading this agreement, you might want to know about the course of training I had been in for prior to arrival.

 

[sherry_85]

PART THREE: TRAINING

The Training could really be a story in and of itself, but this is a story about the holiday game and therefore I will be brief and share with you the highlights and a typical day with Master.

It began in November, I came out there with a small bag containing my money, clothes, and two other bags with my Daughter Abbey's stuff, for I do not have the luxury of obtaining long term child care just to go "get my freak on". I had about 200 dollars saved up and enough for plane tickets. As well, because this was possibly long term, to make it a reasonable trial it couldn't be totally different than the life we would have too much extent, so we would have to see how he got along with child and how we balanced training with a real family life. Many single moms have a lot of taboos about introducing their child to someone they are dating, but not me, I figure change is good, and if she is good at meeting knew people, then she would be stronger. I don't say "Hey this is your new dad" every time I bring home a new guy, and to be honest, since I had gotten into BDSM a few years ago, I hadn't dated anyone in the traditional sense. It didn't interest me, to many 'nice guys' who want to take you to dinner and a movie, blah.

We had arranged on a contract between he and I as I stated earlier, and I had read it a hundred times, most frequently on the plane trip to meet him nervously staring at it and thinking about all the events that led me up to the point of meeting BDSM Masters and serving them. This time would be my twelfth visit, but this time it was going to be permanent possibly after a trial.

We had decided that I would have until after the Holiday Game to walk away from this situation, but that if I came home with Master I would have to accept his collar permanently. If I asked him to drive me back to North Carolina during the trip then we would part as friends (even if I lost the game).

As for Abbey's part, well don't think I am disgusting or totally a bad-mom for bringing her along. Many people have suggested that perhaps I should snip off my desire to serve because I had a child. Just shove it in a box and wait until she was 18 and then go pursue my own destiny, for indeed many people do wait that long. Many people also when they get older say "I wish I had've done that, when I had the chance".

It was a titty dancer I knew who helped me to realize that along time ago. She had been a successful consultant at a business. She had worked with us for a very short time (Me being a little on the jealous side of her, strangely at the time I made friends with her out of instinct). She was about 6 foot tall without heels, and had giant fake tits and a lot of hair. Every inch of her appearance seemed to scream "I Am a trophy, come and win me" even to me, so I can imagine what she did to the male hormone. She was an awkward dancer though moving in fast jerky motions and she was probably a little intimidating to some men, that’s about her only saving graces and probably why she started in a dinky club like mine before moving on to Platinum Plus (A much nicer club).

Before she left though, she gave me one piece of wisdom I always kept with me. She told me that when she got out of college she got a job with a consulting firm as sort of eye-candy. They hire a lot of young attractive women and frat boys in consulting firms, to meet and greet clients, and if they turn out to actually have a brain they eventually get promoted to something where real money can be made. She was one of these people, but she said "I already did that, so what else did I have to prove?"

She said she knew she was attractive right now, and she wanted to be a ring girl and a calendar model, and this was a step towards doing that and it allowed her flexible hours. So what if a few of the consultants from work knew about it and came there, shame on them for looking at their fellow co-worker as a stripper and snickering. She knew she could have married any of them if she had wanted too, she was more interested in seeing what she could do, because she did not want to look back on her life when it was too late to pursue this and wonder, "What would have happened if I only I had taken that path?"

Now naturally, I wasn't smart enough at the time to point out that when she got older she might wonder what had happened if she took the sane path and collected those fat paychecks as a consultant because for every path taken, the other one isn't. But I guess she meant since she had already been a consultant she knew where it led. So this is how I came to the conclusion that as unconventional a life as this was going to be, being someone’s property might be perhaps evil in other peoples eyes, and totally illogical to someone whose goal it was to be a consultant, to me it made sense.

To me, I had been a bitch, and I knew that submission "Reset" my button and when I got sort of beat down, my ass kicked, that I would actually be a pretty nice person for a few weeks afterwards. I would find that I liked myself more during those weeks that followed as well, but that I would eventually fall back into my old ways and go back to being lazy, and being a bitch.

Imagine a woman who doesn't have even furniture, and leaves dirty dishes in her sink so long she ends up throwing them away rather than dealing with them, wanting to go to someone who is going to make her do all sorts of chores in the most humiliating ways. If it doesn't make sense to you, then you probably won't ever understand why I was on this trip.

Yes, I slept on the floor (because I had no bed, having lost it when I left town for three months on one of these things) but Abbey had an air-mattress she slept on. I didn't see me laying flat on my belly on the floor of my apartment butt nekked as being anything to do with BDSM or training. You know the "Sleep on the floor naked" vision of a slave? well heck, I had been doing that for along time and it was really because it was more comfortable to lay rolled up in a comforter and I always ran around the house naked. It was just me and her, and I would hope that most people feel comfortable about doing that. Still the element of being told I HAD to do it, there was something so very different about it.

He met me at the airport and he was exactly what I thought he would be like, and he seemed to regard me as if perhaps I had gained some weight from the photos I had sent. Speaking of which I had men I served take photos of me for the express purpose of documenting my actually experiencing this and my descent further into it. You would be surprised how hard it is though even after getting them to agree to take the photos to get them to send it back. They would say "Oh my scanner broke" or "Oh its on the other computer" or just not reply at all. They had been honorable during my service and kept things within the rules, and I had been generous in what I was willing to endure, but once it was over, it was like pulling teeth. I guess its like the old joke about dating. "How do you get rid of a guy you don't want to go out with?" "Go out with him and fuck him on the first date." A funny way of illustrating what happens when men get what they want, and how you have to do exactly what you didn't want too do, in order to avoid doing it.

One of the first things I had learned to do about the third visit I ever did (and let me remind you, these visits in the start had no pretense of being a permanent thing. It wasn't that I got rejected 11 times before or rejected them, it just wasn't really about serving forever, who commits to that right off on the first try? It'd be like going on one date in high school and deciding you are a loser if you don't marry that person now.) Was that I called my sister Kim and told her I was fine. I had arranged to call her daily for two weeks, it was sort of my safety net. She didn't know that I was serving as a slave, just that I was going to live with a guy, something she totally understood without question. The thing is, she isn't the sharpest marble in the box so she wouldn't question much. I wish I could say I had some clever list of code words where on monday I say "The Chair is against the wall" and that means call 911 or something, so that if he has a gun to me I could say I was fine and she'd still know I wasn't, but I had no faith in her getting something that complicated right. She did have the address I was at, and photos of me to give the cops and stuff, so at the very least, if I ended up a missing person, the guy would know he was the prime suspect and that would be good enough for me. Jeffery Dahmer appeared to be a nice guy, so did Ted Bundy, at least these men didn't pretend to be nice, they told you flat out in the contract what to expect.

We got to his house with a little conversation, and shortly after the awkwardness of the first fifteen minutes, he got Abbey comfortable with TV and snacks and books, and distractions and we went into what would be known as "The Room" and he locked the door.

The first four hours of the training was called the "Whoredeal",(a Pun on the word Ordeal, master reminds me anyone reading about my life this long, may need explanation, no offense intended). More my idea than his, it was based on the fact that early on in my explorations of BDSM men talk a good game or have no idea how hard they are really hurting you.

I don't want "Safe words" that gives me the power to end things at anytime, and thats too much power. I'd feel guilty for not ending it. I want a man to take me, to do whatever we agreed within the rules. Is that not what most women want in some form or another? By gosh, we just hate to spell it out to you.

Anyway, this was my ability to gage how painful or how light the training was going to be, and his to examine my body and interest. If you were to train to be a boxer, before the fight you might go up and clock the other person in the head with your hardest punch that you are going to throw during the train fight. Then its their turn. This is done I am told, because anything harder than that is considered unsportsmanlike, but if you can't take a punch that hard you shouldn't be practicing with this guy. I was told that by a master who had a similar ordeal for me, and thats why we were doing this now. If I was to cry by the end of it, I would walk away (no one had made me cry yet). If I Was to laugh at him for being all talk and no play I could walk away. Some men thought BDSM met light paddles to the butt area, and that anything else was abnormal. I didn't want that, I told you I am in for a penny, in for a pound.

He had me strip off my clothes and collected my gear, then he weighed me and wrote somethings down. He measured me across the legs, around the waist etc with a tape, and I was beginning to get a little impatient. I know patience training is a big part of submission, spending hours in a cage isn't about sexual release, its about learning to sit there quietly and obey. Patience just as you have had the patience to read all this without getting treated to the delicate descriptions of painful torture and sexuality like the stories you probably found this one with.

I was still getting a little ansy though with the silence. We had agreed to the whoredeal and he wasn't doing it. I thought better of reminding him though when he came up behind me without warning and kicked me hard to the ass and I instantly hit the ground on my knees. He had his hands around my throat and he was pushing my face into the ground. He began twisting my arm behind my back, and this is the point when you wonder if he is going to kill you, or if this is part of the training. My nipples dug into his shag carpet and stung, I hadn't done this in a long time, it was exasperating as I clung to the air in my throat, he held my throat in the way that men do when they choke you but don't crush your windpipe. I knew then that he wasn't going to kill me, but was mock raping me. Why did I feel disappointed?

A hard slap of his hand to my ass, and then my ribcage, he was leaving thudding marks on my body as he brought up his knees and then before you know it, he had stuck his cock into my pussy and was fucking me, while I lay on my belly knees up. I was disappointed again, he had gone to sex so quickly. I had wanted to see what he was made of and men who cum quickly into what is called in some BDSM circles a "Session" are usually only interested in cleaning off with a towel and going to sleep.

He fucked me for about fifteen minutes pumping me, dragging my knees across his carpet roughly, Carpet burn was nothing new to me, as I mentioned I guess I had done this in the past and that sometimes makes me sound like a super jaded slutbag. Face it, by the time a woman turns to letting strange men tie her up, she is no virgin, she has a sexual appetite and that comes along with experience. I hate to burst any bubbles out there, and this story is about truth (pretty or ugly).

The truth is, in that four hours he fucked me three times,once each in the ass, pussy and mouth and came each time. He pulled my hair, he tied me up, he melted candle wax over me while I was tied to an office chair that he overturned in the room. He fisted my pussy and he flogged me, at first it was like cool air whipping across my back as he warmed me up and then he began slicing into my skin with it. It had a handle like a dildo and he fucked me with it and left it in and pulled out another whip. He had a lot of evil toys in a black leather bag (which meant to me, that he usually went to other womens house to do these things). He duct taped me, He put clothesspins on my twat, pussy, and ears (I will give him credit, instead of focusing on the obvious, Master does tend to give attention to the entire body, including the weird or less than obvious).

I hadn't been impressed and it was only the first hour and a half. I wanted to ask if I get dressed and go check on Abbey who was quiet in the other room, when he went into the bathroom to take a break, when he came out with an enema and jabbed it up my ass. It was not like those kind in the porno movies where it was a big water bladder, but a dollarstore version of a fleet enema, essentialy a clear plastic bottle filled with water that they might keep ketchup in. He held my face into the carpet and duct taped my mouth shut with my own panties in them and released the water up my ass slowly.

It wasn’t long before the boiling in my belly caused me to start flailing my arms to indicate that I had to release, but he held in the bottle and ignored me. Eventually even bottles get pushed out and I released goo all over his hand, and spasmically let the contents go. He laughed and snapped a picture with his digital camera. (One for the photo album)

He ordered me to take a shower, and despite the roughness of the ordeal I was thinking I would go ahead and leave afterwards, because this was hardly the roughest I had ever been treated, even though it was rough.

I went in with the duct tape still on and my ass messy, and turned on the water and began to silently shower and examine the now purplish and pink welts and cuts on my chest, arms and legs. I was enjoying the warm water, when suddenly a kick through the shower curtain sent me falling on my ass, SLAM.

In a moment he was over me, his naked form shielding the water from hitting me, and cascading off his back. slaps to my tits and face turned into punches, even to my stomach and before I knew it he was dragging me out and dunking my head in the toilet over and over, making me cling to life. I was like a rag doll, as he let my body hit the cold hard tile of his bathroom floor.

He had constructed a rough wooden stock (like pilgrims use) while I had been in the shower and then stuck me in there, the poopoo from my enema was still on his carpet and he faced me towards it.

He blindfolded me and then he had a Wendy's chocolate frosty that he had picked up when he stopped at wendys on the way from the airport to get some food for everyone, and he fed me a few spoonfuls of it. I was smiling for a moment.

Then he poured the mess all over my head, back, and legs and let it set on me. He went out to the living room and returned in a few moments and I could hear him drop his robe "Your daughter is fine bitch, having fun?"

I said nothing. I had been told (by that former master that I quote a lot) that it is a sin to deny a man the pleasure of seeing a woman’s humiliation, embarrassment and pain by appearing too interested in your own enjoyment. As an example, if your parents had ever spanked you and after punishment you said "mmmm, please more?" they would have not been able to understand. They wanted to see you squirm.

Then he tenderly began to lick off every bit of the chocolate frosty, spending extra time on my sore pussy and tender asshole. After about fifteen minutes I was released and again told to go shower, but this time with the leather blind fold on. So he had to lead me, by my nipples, and crawling.

He didn't attack me the next shower as I blindly stood under the (now very hot) water and washed off. He led me out and made me crawl on my belly to air dry out, until yes. I was resting in the crap I had made two hours earlier. He giggled.

This was going to be a messy day.

You get the general idea, and perhaps some of his tortures are best left to your imagination. At the end of the four hours, I was thoroughly caked in body fluids; cum, piss, sweat,chocolate frosty, some my own blood, as my lip was bloody and I thought he had broken my nose when he tried to make me squeal like a pig and snout), wax, and welts and bruises. My hair he had probably pulled out more than a few strands of it. I was blindfolded, handcuffed with hands behind my back, and leg spreaders.

He came in and began to flick on and off one of those electric stun guns. I quivered but worked my mouth in defiance "I am not scared" and I really wasn't.

not until he held it to my skin and I couldn't move. It didn't knock me out as I assumed, but it scared the shit out of me. BZzzzzzzzRRAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPP and where I had a little peachfuzz on my thigh I was sure there was none.

BZZZZZZZZrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaapppppppppp and my arm felt like it was cooked in that little spot.

He would just let it go for about a half second close to my skin and let the current arc over to me. I can imagine his face in a sneer if I could see him, and thats when he drove the stunner into my left tit. I screamed and he stuck something in my mouth to shut me up.

Blackness.

When I awoke, a white leather collar was on the bed and he was out of the room. I was naked, my stuff was gone. I wasn't sure how long I was asleep, but I knew the deal. If I come out of the room crawling in the collar I am in for training. If I come out walking without it, I can get dressed and go home.

I decided to give it a try, I had come this far, and so I ended up crossing my fingers, attaching the high backed leather collar with a small lock (like from luggage) and crawling out naked. I figured he would be standing nearby, but he wasn't.

I padded into the front room area and overheard him talking to my child. I listened as he seemed to be just talking to her about whatever interested her, and she is a chatterbox, so it takes a great deal of patience, I know that on the plane there was a few time when I was like "Abbey, please just shut up for fifteen seconds, lets play the quiet game" but then I had eight years with her (she had just turned eight) and he was knew to her, so he could afford such patience.

I cleared my throat from behind the couch and he said "Come over here Sherry"

I sort of cleared my throat again, for him to come to me, because I hadn't want to shock Abbey. We had talked about what she was going to see during the trial period. After all, there was little way we could hide everything. The simple truth was, you could no more hide it all, then you could expose it all. Neither was a good plan.

Our plan was that she was going to know what I am, and that I must serve and be trained. To that end, I had even asked Sir some questions to prepare for the eventual ones she would ask. This wasn't the first time she had been with me on a visit (in fact only the first one had I not brought her). I always made sure there was some way to deal with her, and on most visits it was with a couple, and they usually had kids too, so there were built in distractions, if not there were kids in the neigborhood etc.

As she was getting older though, it was getting more and more difficult to figure out how the distractions would work exactly. Yes, she had seen me in a collar, and naturally since I potty trained her and raised her solo, changing her diaper for a few years, I hadn't thought anything of her being in the bathroom when I was in there or around the house. I had actually been out to naturist resorts (not about BDSM or swinging, going to a naturist resort is just a fun distraction, and something totally natural, if you haven't gone I encourage you to look into a park or club near you), and as kids are natural nudists who don't know shame unless you teach it to them, she hadn't really had any problem with it.

She had seen me standing in the corner naked with my nose pressed to the wall, and with bells hanging from my titties and crawling when I was down in Florida visiting this other couple, but like I say there were some older kids she could hang out with (That had been about 9 and 11 at the time) while me and their mom did our slave thing. We had explained you don't sit on furniture naked, you sit on a towel or the floor so it was very reasonable that I be on the floor now.

Still, I dunno, with no explanation, it just felt weird to come padding out on all fours.

He said "Sherry don't make me talk twice. I explained it to Abbey"

"Hey, I thought you were going to wait until I decided to do this" I called out without thinking.

"Thats talking back, mom" Abbey said, and she was right, I had drilled it into her what talking back is, and its answering back defensively when a parent tells you not to do something. Had he already made her lose all respect for me?

"Now now Abbey, you aren't helping. I don't need you to tell me what it is your mom is doing, but thank you. Now come out Sherry"

I reluctantly padded out naked and to my releif Abbey didn't freak out or suck in wind and go "OH!!" she just sat there, at least I assumed she did because I had a birds eye view of the carpet with my head down.

"Good, the white collar. Yes, I did talk to Abbey about it, because I knew you would put it on." We had planned for Sir to have a discussion with Abbey and me early on, and several others over the next few years no doubt, but one that defined her role in all this, his goals, and the importance of her to us as a reason for treating her with the respect of an explanation that at her age, would be understood. I hate the words "At your age" because to me she was a little person, but I also hate the loss of innocence of what it would mean to explain to her as I am explaining it to you.

He stuck the rules under my face and said "Read them out loud and you will begin your new life" and I could tell he had his camera out to record.

"Sir" I paused, hoping he picked up that Abbey was still in the room.

"Abbey, would you excuse us for a few minutes, I can show you your room..."

She cut in "what?" clearly when faced with a decision of going to sit quietly in a strange room, or see what the adults are doing, what is any kid going to do.

"Abbey, I am not talking twice, you can see we are about to do something, come on"

"Oh man" she said, but he was patient with her and walked her to her room. I began to wonder whether it was going to work out at all, if so much of this would involve my daughter as an obstacle. A force constantly getting in the way to work around what I am and how I am training. Unlike the Holiday Game where it would be under their nose without them knowing about it, for her part in all of this as a total innocent who simply had the misfortune to be born to a crazy mom, I really didn't want to mess up raising Abbey. my point is, it sucked to have to do it this way, and a compromise wasn't really helping anyone, but it was better than so many of the alternatives that you have to consider.

When he returned, I read the contract and indicated that it was read of my own free will, and that I freely give up my rights as a human being and American citizen for the duration of the trial and do not hold him responsible as long as he acts within the framework of our contract. When I was done, he stuck a crayon in my mouth and said "Hold this", led me by my nipples as he walked over top of me while I crawled to the table. Ordered me to sit and begin writing the contract on paper until he told me to stop.

Then he went and got Abbey and took her to the movies.

By the time he got back, the crayon was in nubs, and while it was a rather long contract I had managed it three times. "Your handwriting looks like shit" he said out loud. I , tried not to cuss around Abbey, but given my background and all, you can guess that it didn't usually work.

Its kind of like the parent who tells their Kid no TV. Yes that might have worked back in the 1960s when they had like three channels and most of it was black and white. But now, this was a digital age, and anyone who wants to isolate their kids from all the images and advertising they are going to be bombarded with when they grow up and get out on their own is just delusional. Better to give it to them in healthy moderation and explain as you go. Its kind of like cathololic school girls who finally get sex after years in all girls school, they usually get buck wild just from the repression.

I was told once by a wise Master, "in all things moderation, even moderation!"

Anyway, cussing wasn't taboo, It just shocked me he was going to be so frank.

"Yes Sir, it is" I said without apology.

He slapped my face in front of her and said "Where is my apology?"

"I didn't know, I was suppose.." SLAP he didn't let me finish.

"When I have to ask for an apology, I don't want an explanation for an apology, I want an apology!"

I said I was sorry and he slapped me again. "That’s not an apology, and you already owe me two of them"

He proceeded to teach me that an apology comes in three stages;

1. It requires first admitting what you did wrong
2. sincerely admitting regret for it
3. and a promise not to do it again.

There was to be a ritual done in the house where I kneel on both knees and apologize.

Abbey for her part had not been shocked, at least I wasn't sure if she had, she was in her room.


(if anyone wants me to continue, I will otherwise I will stop here, since this may give you the flavor of where I am going. I do not want to be accused of 'spamming' or something.)

My email is sherry_85@hotmail.com if you want to discuss there as well.

 

[tr65]

Please continue...

 

[sherry_85]

well someone already warned me that it was "too long". I told them I simply couldn't tell my story in a snippet or little vignette like they were used too.

We live in an age of attention deficit disorder, 30 minute TV shows and easy resolutions to problems. I don't write for mass appeal, so I may turn off people who get used to formats.

My only advice to them, is if you hunger for 10 short stories and your attention can only stand one little bit, then just read as much as you can, masturbate or whatever it is you do and then read the rest later.

At your own pace.

Okay, well I will post a little more.

so far, not much in the way of feedback though.

 

[sherry_85]

part four

I call this story "THAT MOTHERFUCKER"



PART FOUR: THE NEXT FOUR DAYS


The training lasted over the next two weeks, and despite what you may think of me, it wasn't as bad as all that with Abbey there. She as many children do tried to see where her limits are with Master and myself. He had at first thought it humorous that when she asked for a juice box I go fetch it on all fours, but practicality on a munchkin who gets that many juice boxes in his pocket book made him decide to have her first ask him for permission to have a juice box.

Either that, or he was just a bit of a control freak (As masters tend to be) and didn't like her having authority, because it was a challenge to his own. In fact, he really didn't have any interest in her having initiative. My biggest concern in all this, and the reason I was willing to have shifted from the eyebrow dashed mother who would say "Abbey, get off your lazy butt and get it yourself" only a few weeks ago, to being nice and doing it, was that if I could show her how it benefited her, then maybe she wouldn't hate me later.

Also, I figured if she got it in her head that men were supposed to be the boss and all women should serve, then she may want to join me on all fours one day. I guess, her having some spunk was my secret desire to see her not want to walk the path I am walking, one of pain, humiliation and poverty.

Master had already hidden my luggage somewhere in the house. He had given her a few new toys, and let her have free run of the TV. He had her in day care after the first few days with us, and he had to continue to work, so I spent alot of time on two legs walking around the house naked cleaning up and doing chores, which he would come home and judge but rarely spend much time appreciating.

At night we would have wild, but rough sex. He might start my day with an enema, and he had a big thing about pissing in my mouth in the bathtub, and I complied. I hadn't really been too shy about the pee thing, if you hang out on the web, you'll see that appears to be the biggest fetish that no "real" people actually do, but seem to be interested in watching. To them in those glossy photos of piss showers, it must taste like gatorade because the women seem to enjoy it so much. To me, it tasted like warm,sour, apple cider.

He enjoyed watching me squeeze cheese (poop) out on newspaper and he liked to rub my nose in it. He made me taste it, and he liked to threaten to make me pad out to the living room and leave it on my nose, but he let me wash it off.

As fate would have it, behind his house was a restaurant, and he had a big thing about making me run to the dumpster of their parking lot, early in the morning and retrieve something he had placed there while naked, and then run back. Adrenalin pulsed through me as I strained to climb into the greasy old dumpster and pull out an old sock or something and come running back.

What I am giving you is the short version, there were a lot of things I am leaving out that happened around the house. Time spent in stocks, with handcuffs. Even how I ate, it was standing rooted to the spot over the sink, holding my food in my hands and eating. I tended to wear T-shirts with slogans like "I (hart) farts" or "I am with stupid" and an arrow pointing upwards that Master had chosen for me and nothing else around her. He wrote on my body with lipstick but not cuss words, one day he wrote on my upper right ass cheek "Hi Abbey" and when she figured it out, he just lifted up the shirt and said "Right, I thought you'd like that". I groaned silently, but kept doing the dishes (even though he had a dishwashing machine).

He would order me to be an ottoman around her, and I would bend down on all fours naked and scrunch in with my back presented to him and he could rest his legs on my back as well all three watched Rugrats. There was never any element of sexuality to this kind of training, no thing that involved sticking something up my butt or twat, but he had no problem stuffing a racquetball in my mouth or duct taping me around her, and I guess I was scanning her for signs that it shocked her. It did shock her, but she seemed like many kids to be able to process new and weird situations. At one day care they may have the boys and girls line up and pee in the only bathroom, at the next they may have them go to separate ones and go when they want instead of on a routine. The only real difference in her mind, was usually this was kids who got punished, it didn't seem that odd to assume that some grown ups can be the "Boss" of other grown ups. She knew there were workers and bosses in real life, and so she was a real trooper about what we let her see of my training during the day.

Over the next four days, Abbey asked the questions I expected her to ask about why this would a good idea, or if I enjoyed it, or if she would be expected to do that, or if she could wear a collar and so on. Sir gave the answers he had promised to give, and he thanked me one day when we were alone for preparing him.

"Butt" He had stopped calling me Sherry, and started calling me butt, the slave name that he had chosen for me. "Part of our agreement is that you not accept thanks, because you are not worthy of it, but I want to thank the former person that was Sherry". I started to wonder where he was going with this, as I stood on all fours motionless on pads in a small cage in "The Room" with a butt plug whip in my ass and a potato for a gag in my mouth.

"You see, at first I thought you were a phony, we spent so long on the web talking and I never actually talked to you on the phone. Most women I would have given up after about two days with no phone call, and your pictures, well some of them looked like professional"
I wanted to clarify it for him, but its hard when you are trying to control your drool with a potato wedged into your teeth.

"but I Can see that you were not lying obviously, thats not why I want to thank you. There were times I hated you, and grew bored by your endless questions. Thats why you have the name Butt now, its not because of your fat ass" he kicked the back end of the cage and said "Its because when I would come up with an idea you would say "But, but, but" and it was like nothing I said worked for you, like everything was a bad idea"

"I hadn't had a live in slave before who had a child, and I can see that you had thought this out, but I got the impression you wanted me to guess what you wanted me to do." I thought to myself that wasn't true, that I wanted him to want what he wanted in his hart, and that if I could live that way I would, to accommodate me would make me the boss and make me responsible for how his life turned out, he could blame me for that. I Wanted him to be the master, not the one simply following the blue print set out by me.

He continued "I see now though that even though I grew bored with your endless questions and what ifs that you really wanted to just be a good mom, and make sure that you didn't fuck up the one good thing you ever did in your life before you stopped being Sherry and started being butt, and for that I thank you".

There was silence for a time, and he got quiet and said "This is hard for me though, and I am not sure I can keep it up."

I didn't know what he meant exactly, as he left the room.

Fifteen minutes later, That’s when he came back in the room and I looked up and there was Abbey with him. She was smiling at me.

"This is what you do in the room?" she asked.

"Yes Abbey, this and other stuff" he explained. But she was looking at me.

He unlocked my lock on the cage and ordered me out and then removed the potato from my mouth.

I was naked, collared and an animal.

"Abbey, your mom is training to be my pet, and I am going to offer her a pair of manacles, if she accepts them, it means she has reached the first step in her training and won't be able to take them off unless the trial ends."

He wasn't supposed to explain this to her, at least not in our plans.

"But, the thing is your mom is having a hard time, because she also needs to be your mom to you, and she can't really do both very easily. How do you feel about that?"

Abbey was silent for a few moments and said "I dunno"

Master encouraged her "Its okay, if you say you just want her to be the way she was, I will release her collar and let her go home"

Dang, he had to put it like that, my fate in my daughters hands. Ifs he said yes, I would have no choice but to go back home with her and give up this life, and perhaps thats what I wanted. A good reason not to do this.

And she did, she said Yes.

Thats when he started with a sigh to release me. I was about to stand up and sort of like you sober up when a cop comes along, started to see the foolishness in playing at these bondage things, as he was working the key to my lock.

 

[sherry_85]

Part Five

PART FIVE: THE NEXT BULLSHIT


That’s when he started with a sigh to release me. She surprised us both by saying the next thing.

"But" and I froze, had she called me "Butt"? up until now she called me mom or mommy.

"Did you just call your mom butt?" he asked, perhaps a little too encouraging.

"Can I?" she asked.


"not if she isn't trained, she is your mom, you'll have to call her mom if she goes to back being normal"

"So I can call her butt if she stays here?"


He stopped fiddling with the lock "Do you want to call her butt?"


"Mom, how do you feel about it?" she asked, with surprising clarity.


I could have said anything. I was for my part, being released to go back to life as Sherry, no longer bound by the contract, but after four days of hard fucking, sucking, and torture I had still a lot of submission in me.

"I um, I mean" was my first reaction, racing through all the what-if scenarios that had been so clear in my mind at the time I was typing on chatropolis and MSN about these very things for how to react. I wasn't afraid if she did, I was just unsure if this would not make me a really, really bad mom.

"If I remain here, I am not allowed to have an opinion Abbey, it has to meet with Master William's approval"

"So I Can say butt, though?" she seemed not to get it.

He said "Yes, you may."

And then she said "cool, well alright, what else can I do?" she seemed to be getting a taste of megalomania and a sudden feeling like a kid in a candy store.

"What else do you want to do Abbey?" he asked her plainly

"go out and play down the street"

I normally didn't allow her to walk down the street by her self. Afraid of stalkers or someone might hit her with their car.

"Okay you may" he said pleased.

"Um Sir, I" started to point out that I didn't allow her to go out by herself

And almost in unison they both told me "I thought you said you don't get an opinion?"

"Right" was all I said and Master through a T-shirt across my back, and said "Get on two legs and put this on, walk her down to the third house and introduce yourself as her mom and ask if they can play until you come back over" The T-shirt said "I brake for bulldogs".

Barefoot and with a white collar on, I walked down three houses to the curb, where it did appear to be a pleasant side street with little traffic. The telltale sign of kids was the play jungle gym fenced in fort in the backyard.

I knocked on the door and a woman who appeared to step out of 1986 opened the door. She had bleach blonde hair, and while about my age, she just had the fashion sense that even Wal-Mart no longer sold to people. There was chaos in the front room as boys seemed to be ripping at each other to play with an XBOX and I introduced myself as Sherry.

My daughter corrected "Butt" but the lady didn't get it, and thought she meant "But, I have to say something else about her name" and when I explained we were knew to the neighborhood and knew she had kids, she smiled and said "Yes, five boys and three girls, one more won't matter, anytime you want her to come over"

I said "what about now?" and she said sure, and invited me in. I was going to explain that my master told me to bring her over and not to stay myself, but I chickened out, this lady seemed so normal, and mundane that the concept of masters and BDSM would probably be lost on her.

I came in, and she said "Dog Lover?"

"Well" I had been on the internet for so long, that the concept of women fucking and sucking male dogs had come to seem like something that was 'meat and potatoes" sexuality. The photos of the activity are so common that they didn't even shock me, only pictures of women with a kangaroo or letting a horse suckle their titties, or licking the vagina of a goat, or something had seemed rare but not unknown to me. So I was about to say something that would have revealed my loose morals when I realized the shirt and just nodded.

"Cool, we got three" and I was soon set upon by one sniffing and humping my leg.

One of her boys looked up from Mortal Kombat and said "Hey, does she have anything on under that T-shirt mom?" and my mom said "Quit it Carl, of course she does, jeezus you pervert, we just met these people".

She showed me around the "chaos that was their home" and introduced me to her sons, who each seemed to either be over-caffeinated or have a speech impediment or both. Their rooms were filled with posters of Yu-Gi-Oh and Brittany Spears, and the girls the same way. This was a rough and tumble mini-van family where the dad was out working two jobs and the mom had nothing to do but stay home most of the time and try to keep organized.

I tried to excuse myself several times, because it seemed I was the center of attention not Abbey, who was quickly inserted into whatever the girls were doing. This lady was bored and she needed a friend. She lit a cigarette and mentioned "smoke?" I was about to say I did, but realized Master had made them a privilege for me to earn through good behavior, and may smell it on me and so I joked, "Only when I can get away with it"

After a long boring while, she let me go back home, and as the door shut my face turned flush as I distinctly heard a boy say behind my back "See I told you she had nothing on underneath it?" and her say "So what? people can do what they want to do, don't embarrass me around new neighbors" and with that I walked back and told Master pretty much all about the encounter.

A smile spread across his face, and he held up the shiny chrome wrist manacles "You've earned these" and he locked them on my hands. We fucked and played hard for the next few hours and he finished it off by holding open my mouth, and spitting into it, missing every now and then and taking his time by drinking water. He pissed all over my shirt and said "Put it on and go get Abbey, and give this note, without reading it to her"

"Sir, you aren't going to tell this lady?"

"Shut up butt" he said and I was silent "It has twenty bucks in it, and its a thank you note, you ignorant cunt, she will make a great distraction for Abbey, god what is with you? do you think anyone really cares if you like kinky sex? its not like its crack cocaine or government secrets you are selling. She is a friggin' grown up, so what if she knows?"

He asked questions and usually waited for me to answer before slapping my face, because they were rhetorical. I didn't ask, but he slapped anyway. and then spanked my ass so hard it was red. "Now go get her, and when you get back you can prepare dinner, don't forget you are a slave when you get there because if I find out you thought you could get away with it, I will torture the cage you in the yard and have a fucking garage sale" "Your name is butt, and if she asks, that is what it is"

I wanted to ask how exactly that was going to say like a name and not an excuse, however the only thing I could think of to begin that question was "But" and so I walked back in the piss smelling T-shirt with what were now manacles and a white leather a collar protruding.

I knocked on the door and one of her boys answered the door and before I knew it he lifted up my shirt and let it fall quickly with a smile and said "Hey mom, there is nothing underneath, hahah. I told you"

It was going to be one of those days. I could already imagine her turning on me with angry eyes and saying how dare I come into her home dressed like this around young boys, but instead she was drinking a beer at the kitchen table and folding clothes and seemed so beat down by the amount of chaos in her house that she just went "Oh quit it Justin, god I am so sorry Sherry, I" and then she saw that my shirt was wet with piss.

"Hah, sprinklers huh?"

I nodded yes, but wondered how much I could lie to satisfy Master. I just figured I'd leave that out. "I wanted to give you this?" I said as I handed her the notebook paper folded up from my Master. She just set it down and yelled "ABBEY, YOUR MOM IS HERE" and I realized that was pretty normal around her house, because no one seemed to even react, besides Abbey.

I was thinking back to my own growing up, and we didn't have XBOX's and Playstation and Gameboy and all the soda these kids had, and my brothers were rowdy and wrastling types, but I guess times were changing and for her part, either I was old enough now to side with the mother and notice how hard it was for her to keep what even passed for any kind of order or these kids were just that much more caffeinated, but It wasn't how I had grown up, it was crazier.

I felt embaressed because if anyone had a right to ask for a vacation from all that, it was her, not me. She was in effect their slave, because she had to do all these chores and day in, day out stay at home and work at these kids for no pay at all. She did get to boss them around, but anything she said was a temporary order at best, because within minutes the boy or girl had gone back to what they were doing and "forgot" what they had been told. I had only one, and yet I had the audacity to paint it as some great burden?

She took the paper and left me in the door way with the words "Come over anytime" and went back to sitting down as Abbey came out and thats when she came running back to the door as we were walking away.

"Are you serious?" she asked. When I looked confused she repeated it and said "Jeez come back in, this is cool, lets talk about it"

I had assumed that perhaps in the paper Sir had volunteered me to sleep with her husband or something. I had half assumed correctly. Sir had volunteered me to do any chores around the house in exchange for daycare.

The note basically said here is twenty bucks for helping us out, we can pay you 80 dollars a week if you can watch Abbey for us for about six hours a day, her mom is a student and here training with me, and we realize thats not enough money, so she wanted to volunteer to clean up, walk your dogs, mow your grass, anything you want for two hours a day, starting today if you like. Let me know if thats not enough" and his phone number.

That mother fucker.

 

[chatbug]

I, for one, am enjoying these stories. I admit it's taking me a long time to read them.

 

[sherry_85]

part six

able to give any ideas? okay, next couple of parts.

take your time.











PART SIX: A DAY IN THE LIFE

(Basically to give you some idea of what a typical day had in store for me in the beggining)

Here I had come to associate the BDSM life with ropes, chains, leather, floggers, deviant sex acts and Masters and slaves at its basic form. Along with that came learning to be obedient, patient and submissive, and as well enjoying the transformation of ones self into this new life. I had read about women trained to act as ponies and who march high stepping with a horses tail stuck in their buttholes and a bit in their mouth, tandum to another bitch just like themselves on parade for men, and even tried it myself.

I had assumed hard work and chores come along with the life of a slave, for if it was lazily sitting around with a bag of nachos and watching Springer, then I had already been a slave all my life, no this was to be work. Yet, here the thought of two hours in this chaotic place filled with; "Mom she hit me" "Mom, I didn't either" "Yes you did" "no I didn't" "I saw him mom" "Mom can I have a breakfast burrito" "Stop shoving me" "give that back" "you stole it from me first!" "no you traded it for Halo" "no I said I WOULD trade it for Halo, but then I changed my mind" "mom thats not fair!" I say these quotes all at once, because I can't really begin to share with you what they sound like when they are all spoken at once, which is how it sounds when you are in the living room of this ladies house (named Ellen).

She never asked my name again, assuming it was Sherry. She said "well hon, here are pair of my shorts, I think you need them" handing me a white pair of stretch shorts she had in the bundle of unfolded clothes. I took them and smiled and remembered my orders were to do what she told me, I stood up and slid them on under my shirt. She didn't seem to ask herself why I had chosen not to wear anything under a T-shirt, I guess when you have that many kids you don't have too much time to wonder about motives, just correction of the problem.

"So did you want to start today?" she broke the silence.

I realized that I may as well "Um, yes...that would be fine...Ma'am" I added hoping perhaps she would tell me that was not necessary. She just grinned. I may be a little eccentric, but I was basically free help to her, and so she said "Well finish folding these clothes and I'll show you where they go, is there anything else, like are you allergic to anything or won't do windows?"

"I um"

and Abbey who was standing there, said it for me "There isn't much she won't do Ma'am". The little cuss had added Ma'am as if it was something we always said, which made it sound all the more normal coming from me. Plus the part about not much I won't do...well it went right over Ellen's head and she just went back to breaking up fights and let me finish. All told I ended up loading her dishwasher and straightening up, making beds. It had been more than two hours when Ellen popped into the garage where I was sweeping and said "Hey, times up cutie, now listen, one other thing, um I don't know how to tell you this, but you smell a little like pee, do you have animals at your house?"

"Only one" I said as a joke

"Oh okay, well I Can dig that, well here throw your shirt in the laundry and wear one of mine home"

"That won't be necessary, Ma'am" I had grown already used to calling her Ma'am, it didnt bother me anymore.

"Oh, no really I insist"

Well if she insisted. I removed my shirt and she saw all the welts, cuts and bruises from the last few days and she said "You two huh?". I was about to step into it and ask if they were into BDSM when she said "He used to black my eyes, I stay with him for the kids, but he works so much now I never see him anymore. You really should stay away from your EX..." and then she paused, apparently using that part of her brain reserved for motive determination for once and said "Oh wait a second, you just got here, I get it, You just LEFT an abusive relationship right?"

I wasn't sure how to answer that, if I said I had and I show up with more bruises, then I would be seen as a liar. If I said I hadn't then she would think bad of Master "I am just kinky is all" I figured she might dig that.

"Oh shit girl" she said "Three of my five boys are teens in puberty and the other two are close to it, don't let them hear you say that!"

"I don't intend to" I said quietly, as I examined the old Coca-Cola shirt she handed me, looking it over as a waft of nostalgia for these shirts hit me.

and I took Abbey with me and went back to Masters. He liked to hear how the trip went to her house, even though nothing really happened.

so it went for the next two weeks. Everyday went pretty much like this, and we arranged my visit over there to coincide with Master needing to work.

Around 7am I would be awakened with piss to the face and fucked and untied, then Master would let me shower and air dry by running to the dumpster of the restaurant (Which was not open in the morning) and back. I would shave my body and brush (after first wiping the brush on my pussy and he would laugh each time).

Then he would give me a T-shirt with a ridiculous caption on it, like "I am so happy I could fart" or "Free Blowjobs, inquire inside" and then write something on me in red lipstick like "BRAKE IF YOU ARE HORNY". He liked to write it something about a videogame on my knees or a place that would be exposed so I may have to chat with one of her kids later if it was still on as if I was a big fan of Zerogear Solid or whatever the hell computer game he had wrote. For my part, I was attempting very much to try to seem polite and attentive, but in side I would be my typical smart-assed self and prideful.
I was hoping perhaps this form of training would help to put an end to that side of me. Maybe I needed that side though? doubts.

Breakfast usually consisted of dry cereal and maybe some piss on it, and I standing over the sink while he casually talked to Abbey. If conversation turned to me, he would try to get her to joke about me being "Fat" and for her part, She had taken easily to calling me butt in private and mom in public. Little liar, she was a lot like me in many ways, I had early on grown up learning to lie, but that was I thought a protective means against the boys bullying. If I did something wrong I would convince my mom I didn't and my brothers who had no alibis and if they did sounded stupid (because they only did stupid things).

Now, keep in mind a few years ago the thought of piss in my food would seem pretty strange, and disgusting. However, having hung out on the web long enough and saw enough web sites devoted to the concept of piss, like its some kind of sexual gatorade that everyone just loves getting gushed on (at least in photos) I can tell you, that pee play, became fairly acceptable, it still tasted like warm and sour apple cider though.

I would let him scrape their bowls into my own and then walk her over to Ellen's house to play Wearing only a t-shirt, but some days he had me go over wearing daisy duke type shorts and a tube top and flats. These were days we needed to go grocery shopping and he would tell me to flash or sit topless in the car, it was pretty exciting I hate to admit, especially being told to sit on the flats of your palms. He would drive slowly by their house, but I knew they wouldn't come out to the door and accidentally see me. For the part of the boys they did do stuff outside on bikes, but they seemed to center around their videogame obsessions. Most of them were in school when I dropped Aubrey off, so she only had the youngest two kids to play with who were about 3 and 4 anyway.


While Abbey was gone we would train hard. He would fuck me, pluck me and suck me. I would lick the very sweat from his chest, and attend to him just as we had talked about it would be. Leashed in wooden stocks or caged. He even buried me in the yard one day (I had to dig the hole) face up so that I was up to my neck.

He fucked me in every room of his house, and even brought over a couple friends a few days and had me serve them and suck them off. I was for my part digging it, and he rarely seemed to care if I liked it or not, he just continued to take me for granted, which was exactly what I had asked him to do.

He would hit me with metal pans, sneak up and do a flying kick into my ass or choke me awake some mornings. He would attach weights to parts of my body and he had a fond fascination for my pooter hole. The peanutbutter hole, yep the butt. He wanted to lick it, flick it, taste it, feel it, watch it open and pucker, pour things in it, sniff it as I farted, fuck it, whip it, widen it, and he did all of those things regularly.

I had been growing accustomed to what he called "Slut basic training" as he taught me how to crawl. There were a few different ways he had me do it, including crab style (Belly up, bent at the knee with legs apart, and walking on your hands like a crab) and worm style without aid of hands orlegs just shimmy around. I have to admit there were times we both just laughed at how stupid it was.

He trained me to do the ponygirl thing in a simple outfit in the house prancing with knees up and a tray attached to my tits (which he every now and then called udders), and he had me in diapers and a baby binky, and pig tails and a plaid skirt, and a few other exotic things, but for the most part I think he was just experimenting. His real interests lie in fucking and hitting me and then piss and poop play.

He liked to watch me tied up shoot out a turd in a cage and then he'd have me sniff it and snub my nose into it. He would tell me I would have to eat it and if I had made me, I would have, but he himself wasn't into it. I could tell the stench from a real goopy turd just seemed too gross for him to really process. Piss was another story, of that there was no doubt I drank gallons.

Basically my diet consisted of dry cereals and oatmeals with a healthy does of 'man juice' either cum, pee, sweat, spit or some thing for breakfast. Maybe some vitamins and beef jerkey through out the day for a snack if I was getting a privilege. Some dried toast mushed up if I was not. Then for dinner I ate what they ate, which might be fast food or pizza or it might just be sandwiches and what not, but I always ate last. Master had been telling me he would make me eat dog food out of a dog dish, but he hadn't bought any.

He didn't make any secret it had been piss around Abbey either. He would set a glass of piss on the table like it was orange juice and say "Butt, your piss is ready" and I would drink it down. Abbey had at first been shocked and he explained to her that normal people don't have any desire too, but because this is training to prove her obedience she has too.

He also told her, "What happens in the house, stays in the house, no reason to tell our business to anyone else". Which gave me some measure of safety.

So if he was home from work, the slut basic training would focus on the things he thought made for good training and that included one word commands. There were five of them:

ATTENTION: I had to instantly snap to attention. Shoulders back, Legs together, thumbs at the side of my legs, eyes straight ahead, chest out. The goal is that ass, tits and any other part of your body seem to jiggle you move with such precision. If he told me to march from there it was to walk in a high stepping fashion but maintain attention with eyes straight ahead and pivot instead of just turn.

FOUR LEGS: He would also say two legs which meant I could stand, but four legs basically meant start crawling bitch. A very basic hands and knees kind of thing. If the day was to be spent on hands and knees he did have small pads for me.

PRESENT: Face down on floor, hands behind back crossed, ass in air facing towards him immediately to the point that if your face can be heard hitting the floor that you might hear him offer "good" in a curt manner.

BARK: He would actually say oink, bark, moo,cluck, squawk snort and any other dog noise and I had to make it, I got good at it. He would sometimes say to me "Bark once for no, and silence for yes" and he did this type of thing around Abbey as well as in private.

FETCH: He would use the words fetch me a beer, or fetch me my whip. He told Abbey she could have me fetch the same way, but for her part she didn't feel obliged to take advantage of it.

He would have me stand for hours as furniture, like a lamp with a candle in my mouth or other part of my body or perhaps both. As a table and eat off me.

If he was at work, he would just have me clean the house and he might swing by check on me, but he expected me attach small chains to my collar or manacles while I did my chores even alone. I don't much care for the idea of doing things like this without anyone "making" me doing it. There is some kind of foolish switch in my head that turns on when left alone that screams "GIRL THIS CRAZY! DON'T DO IT!!" and thats probably what some call "Sanity". If you've never tied your own self up or put handcuffs on by yourself, you can't really relate to the feeling that maybe this is kind of stupid, so I am not sure I should even bother to explain. In any case, self-training was one of those things I liked to avoid. For this to seem real, I kind of need him to micromanage me, or at the very least put the chain clips on. However, I have been coming to grips with the concept of 'comprimise'. I mean here I am trying to have a 'family' and a BDSM relationship, afterall.

After he released me from whatever bounds I had been in to go get Abbey, I would be dressed in whatever I had on earlier that day, hair a mess, usually no make up and he would alternate perhaps sending me in a mini with a g-string and a bikini top, or perhaps only a pair of see thru stretch shorts (Which he had gotten from her and hadn't allowed me to offer to return) with a sports bra.

Ellen had gotten used to the idea that perhaps I had been a stripper or something and had no other clothes and would usually send me home with more than I came in, but so she would get the hint Master did not let me return them, instead I was to calmly accept the clothes and thank her and then make no more mention of it or say I forgot them.

On a few occasions she had me walk her dog and Master took that as a chance to have me bring it over and suck its dick. They had two boys, and it was fast and usually the dog wanted nothing to do with us, but I did it. It was a great test of obedience. I even once licked up some dog piss at his house when I had failed to bring the dog to orgasm again and it pissed instead.

I was told to carry the dog turds in my hand and then throw them in the garbage when I got back to her house, which instead of shock and horror the only reaction I got was from her boys who said "Cool, I bet you will even hook a worm" and I Realized that young boys respect grossness. To make friends with them, I would seem distant but every now and then I might let out a loud fart or burp.

I mean underneath the exterior of the docile slave, I Was still Sherry. I hadn't lost who I really was, not yet. I was thinking of the humor of the situation, as those two hours dragged on and on and the chaos erupted constantly. I fixed them dinner, I cleaned their tub.

I on several occasions caught her boys staring at me, and she would usually be along shortly to tell them how nasty they were and apologize to me, and I would just shrug. I mean in just a T-shirt, who would blame them for staring at my ass? it was quite a target, and in a wicked way it made me feel attractive to tease them.

I was starting to get to know them all as well, and I would talk to them and joke. I wasn't always serious and passive. Especially if one of them asked why I had written Donkey Kong jr on my leg or something, I would construct some lie about how it was my favorite growing up.
And then they would tell me rapid fire how you can get the ultra mega nintendo 64 now, and how if you get the super power up when the boss appears you can ride the blue diamond to the whatever. I would pretend to be intererested to this, but not enough to wear it distracted me.

I mowed their grass once or twice, and all in bare foot, which caused a lot of stickers, but hey, you get the idea I am a pain freak right? well I am not. I am an ordinary woman who has done natural child birth and grew up with some rough brothers of my own, so I am not a stranger to pain, and it still hurts like the dickens.

Usually while I was working her husband would come home dressed in his work uniform, acknowledge me and then either go to his other job or he would plop himself down in his computer room and work on Everquest which Ellen referred to as "His stupid friggin game". They seldom talked to one another, I wasn't even sure he knew my name or cared, his name was Buddy or at least that’s what she called him.

I would usually leave after about two hours of work, which Ellen made no secret that she really appreciated. In the beginning she had obviously cleaned up before I even got there to avoid looking like she lived in filth or something, but over the course of the few weeks she just left messes and assumed I would complain if it was too nasty or I thought they were gross.

I would go through their dishes and flush their toilets, and clean up their messes and sort their garbage and take it out to the street and I was actually secretly pleased because these people rarely said "Thank you", and I felt that would take some of the forced feeling I got out of doing this for them. I wasn't really doing it for them, I was doing it because Master had ordered me to do it.

I would get home and then make dinner, and usually eat it over the sink with my bare hands. Master would hang out with Abbey some and cage me in my room, setting me up so I could listen to them talk and have a good time. It was boring and lonely and I was miserable and unfortunate enough for me, I was actually loving every minute of it, but I couldn't tell anyone. That would just ruin the entire feeling of abject misery.

you see if you don't know how it feels to be submissive, you may not be able to relate to having hardship heaped on you. Most people don't like it, even optimists who see it as a challenge and want to turn lemons into lemonade and so on, would rather have sunshine than rain. But to continue the analogy, here I wanted mud and I wanted to say I hate the mud being dropped on me, but I really secretly was thinking this was the best trial period ever. It was all starting to be so routine.

I am not sure if its like that for all submissives or any submissives, to want to be hobbled and stripped of who you are, is a strange path, harder to explain than to do. Maybe I am just crazy.

One night, shortly before the trip he came in to "the room" and said "Are you sure you want to go to your moms like we agreed?".

"Why you getting chicken?" I said sarcastically. Its funny to be defiant when you are belted to the wall on a cross with your hands in metal braces and your toes tied together.

"Funny, you didn't seem to want the ball gag, I guess I should go get it?" he warned, and I nodded that I didn't and wiped the smile off my face.

"Well, the time has come for you to earn your manacles" The next stage in the trial was to wear matching foot manacles with a metal hoop so as to help me be chained. I had been bound in handcuffs around my ankles and tied up by my feet, but this would be something that wasn't coming off.

"What must I do Sir?"

"You must go over to Ellen's and seduce her"

"Oh sir" I replied, rolling my eyes "You know I am not much on seducing"

"Right, you can't polish a turd" he added "I know, but I want a good challenge for you, and from what you said, I bet she'd be into it?"

"She might, but thats going to change the relationship, please something else Sir?"

"Well you can seduce her oldest son, if you don't want to seduce her. I mean I'd say her husband but he doesn't sound like the type to really have the time or energy to do it"

"Please Sir, something not involving seduction?"

"Why do you hate to be so seductive again?"

"Because sir, it makes me feel prideful and powerful, and its too much romantic cheese" It makes perfect sense to me. Sensuality and me have never been compatible even before I was into D/s, but now I really hated all that artificial sweetness. I didn't mind having to talk in a sweet and cheerful manner because of how I was being trained, and because Master let me say it through gritted teeth sometimes. However, this also involved bringing people who really had no interest in me otherwise and would not have initiated it into our circle.

He seemed to figure out this was setting me up to fail. Ordinarily Master liked to see me fail, but he decided that this was going to be one of these times when he wanted it to be more fun. He had promised we would be going out in public places and to munches (BDSM gatherings) and so on, but for the initial training we had focused on just living together.

He tapped his chin thoughtfully and said "Okay, here is the deal, if you don't want to seduce them, then you are going to have to practice revealing what you are to them."

"What do you mean Sir?"

"You know, remember what happens if you lose the holiday game?"

"Oh no Sir, you see" and he shushed me before I could explain that the beauty of the game was that I wouldn't have to see them again, and he pulled a gag out of his pocket (he carried stuff like that around with him now) and strapped a small ball gag around my mouth.

"Conversation with you, is so tedious and predictable, bitch" he said as he tied it on. "If they freak out, you don't have to go back over there. If they accept it, then you will. Its really simple. How do you know you won't chicken out when we go to your moms house? You've only known these people down the street a week and a half, and already you are concerned about how they feel?"

He left me there to think about it, and after about two hours he let me down and I put Abbey to bed and returned to the room to a hard fucking. A rough, painful, hair pulling experience like so many in the past, and when he shot in me he said "I will go with you"

I knew he meant he would come with me to Ellen’s and meet her.

That Motherfucker.

 

[chatbug]

I am interested in what you've written. As you admit, some people (including me) have problems with your including your daughter so prominently in the story. Some of us (including me)also have problems with involving other people (like Ellen and her family) nonconsentually. I realize that these situations happen in real life, but this forum, as well as this web site, have rules against writing about minors engaging in sex to help protect the web site and keep it open without some sort of age check, for us to enjoy.

I'm assuming that these narratives give us the flavor of the story. You may want to browse the Author's Hangout forum for story writing style tips and techniques. You may want to browse the BDSM talk forum to discuss specific questions about what we do.

Welcome to Literotica. Good luck with your writing and your life.

 

[sherry_85]

I am not sure what your suggestion is, you also asked me to post more of it. If you read the preface, there is no me in an isolation booth. So I am not sure how else to tell the story, if it offends, do not read it.

PART SEVEN: MASTER MEETS ELLEN

It was a Saturday, With only days before we were about to leave for my moms remaining, the day began as it did most of the time. Me laying in a puddle of my own drool from the gag I had been wearing, a butt plug and handcuffs on the floor this time.

Except today Sir, had planned to come with me. He handed me a small hand towel and said "Hmmm, what to wear, what to wear?"

I started to suggest some things and he said "Oh I meant for me..you are going over naked"


"Sir, its like four houses down, and people will be out!" I yelped.

"Yes, and?"

"Sir, th..." I stopped "If you are with me, that would be fine"

public nudity like walking down the street wasn't part of our agreement, but I had a feeling he was just enjoying making me uncomfortable. I should have let him continue, but I Wanted to see if I could call his bluff.

He shrugged "Fine, wear this apron" and he passed me an apron that said "Kiss the cook" my fanny would be hanging out, and it really made no attempt to hide the tits. He looked me over and said "On second thought, go ahead and wear some panties with it, we don't want to make it too obvious"

I put on some fairly thin black panties under the apron, and wedged it out of my buttcrack and then he toyed with a few leashes and decided against it and said alright, get Abbey ready and lets go. Sir put on a dark shirt and pants, he liked to wear dark when he had to present himself in a powerful way.

Unsure of what would happen, walking behind the two of them, Abbey seemed totally absent minded about what I had on, after two weeks, the novelty of me as furniture or in a collar or whatever had very little appeal to her to question.

He knocked on Ellen's door and introduced himself and said he would like to come over and watch me work.

Ellen immediately noticed I had only panties on after I walked in, in my apron and Sir said "Hah, you noticed, she didn't have anything clean to wear, we don't have a laundry machine yet, and heck its no worse than you'd see at the beach. You don't mind do you?"

Ellen hadn't really thought about it much, but since he put it like that, and the labor was free to her, she said "Alright I guess, its just I have boys here"

"Let me meet them" and then Sir met all the family, except of course the husband who was at work.

The boys seemed to be flabbergasted by my buttcheeks. It was if they had never seen butt cheeks before or something, because they just couldn't get over it. Perhaps it was the fact that the apron actually hid me, and that if I had a traditional bikini on they wouldn't have noticed.

"Had you any problems with Butt here?"

She smiled, because Ellen thought obviously that when Sir called me Butt, it was because my big ass was now seperated by a pair of thong panties but otherwise exposed for all to see.

"Oh no, Sherry isn't a problem at all, its these guys, come on give them some room, go play or something" that are the real challenge. But she was finding it much easier with me doing her housework, even she had to admit that.

"Didn't she tell you, she likes to be calld Butt, Sherry is her old name."

"No she didn't" Ellen said, confused.

"Butt, you know the penalty for lying" I really didn't and I hadn't actually lied, but I knew better than to defend myself.

He turned me around to face the boys, as I had position my backside to the wall, and then bent me over and spanked my ass red right there. "Now apologize".

There was stunned silence, as I started to say "I am sorry Sir, for not..." he slapped my face.

He reminded me "Apologies are done on the knees"

I looked around and no one made a move. Would this be how my family dealt with it? I hoped not, I felt like I was such a horrible evil monster, that I was some how ruining their innocence. I got on both knees and said "I am sorry Sir, for not telling Ellen she should call me butt, I am genuinely sorry..please forgive me ignorance, and I won't do it again, she now knows that is my nickname"

"nickname?" he asked.

"slave...name" I said

Ellen’s eyes lit up "Hot damn, like on Springer, you two are wild"

"Aint we?" said Master smiling.

"Seen a couple the other day, seems he is a pimp and his wife’s neice is working for him, and they came out and made love right there in front of her...but, I guess his wife had a slave boy of her own or something. Her slave boy was also gay though. I can't remember, Collin is what it was?"

I looked behind me and to my surprise the boys were back to playing a videogame and one of her sons shouted back "I can't remember mom".

Ellen went back to me on the floor and said quietly "I figured you were wild, when I saw that leather collar and all, but I didn't want to say anything."

"So do you mind if Butt continues to work here?"

"Why would I?" Ellen added "Oh, the nudity? heck I make them put on clothes because we have company, they've seen me and their sisters naked. I just didn't want you to think we were perverted or anything, aint nothing wrong with it."

"Your secret is quite safe with us" Master added and then said "Sherry, hand me your apron and panties, I trust Ellen will give you something you can wear to come home in when you are done serving them?" he added right before he left with a smooch to my cheek "Make sure you do anything they want, okay?" I didn't answer, just nodded. He had already shut the door before I could answer anyway, in my face.

I looked around, and no one else was naked or made a move to undress like she had said, but I could tell there was some serious whispering. I removed the apron and then slipped off the panties.

"Dang, you aint got no pubes" shouted one of the boys and his mom sushed him. "So is she going to work naked every day?" another one asked and there was a heavy silence, they seemed to be waiting for me to answer. I didn't. Which made it worse.

you see, when master left no one else instantly got naked. Apparently Ellen had been exaggerating a little, they did occasionally see each other naked as anyone in a house that size with that many people would, but it was still an environment of repression where "boobies" were something to behold. I thought about just saying as someone had mentioned to me in a nudist camp;

"What you tell people who think nudity is dirty, is to go ahead and look at you. Look for 10 long minutes. Are you over it yet? and if they aren't they keep looking. Eventually you have seen it and you can get passed it. Its kind of like when you are in gym class and have to take a shower together afterwards. People either get over it and do it, or they just never get mature enough to really be out of 8th grade.

Instead, I bit my lip and said "Well, there you have it, I am in training as a slave and I am.." Ellen looked me over one more time and then the 32 year old house wife took me by the hand and led me to her room. I figured here was where she was going to tell me that this was a bit too far. Which it was.

She locked the door and sat on the bed, lifted her sundress and said simply "Eat"

I did as I was told. I began to lick her pussy and lap at it and fondle her. When I was done I had spent about hour of my two with my fingers, nose and mouth pressed to her pussy and ass.

Ellen now had a look of happiness on her face that was almost surreal. "don't tell my husband about this" she added as if I would have considered that. "You are alright, I had never had a woman before, and they say a woman knows things a man doesn't and I'll give you credit, you don't quit. So you want clothes or you want to really clean up in the buff?"

I did want clothes, but I wasn't sure how to answer now that they knew I was a slave I said "It does not matter what I want, I will do as you tell me, Ma'am" and she said "hmm, well you are a bit of a distraction out there sis, its kind of funny. How about we try it and if we get company or something, you go hide, okay?"

I was shocked, she hadn't seemed sadistic or perverted, and yet here she was really pretty much fine with the hole thing.

I cleaned up the house naked, and something about being fully naked makes you move with a little more bounce and spring, especially as cold as they kept it in there.

She asked me "Is Abbey being trained as one too?"

"No Ma'am"

"Hmm, I don't really understand it, but I think its neat. I could use a full time slave, if this is all you got to do. Heck if I could get my kids to mind as well as yours does". Abbey wasn't 'well behaved' she was very normal, had her share of tantrums and talking back, but in comparison to her kids who had a mob mentality, this was probably true.

Ellen started to ask me questions about how I came to this life and I told her the answers as best I could given that her kids are always within earshot and I didn't want them to hear all the jaded details of my past.

"So if we told you to stand on your head, you would?" asked one of her sons out of the blue from back in the living room.

I didn't answer, I just looked at his mom, for some indication of how to respond, she shrugged her shoulders at me.

"I was told to" I chose my words carefully "Come here and clean your home. Thats all I am supposed to do"

"Nuh-Uh" said the one of her sons who wears glasses "He said, you had to do whatever we said, and you gotta call us Master"

Now Bruce" said Ellen "That aint right, leave her alone, c'mon guys"

"I have only one Master" I added while seated at the dining room table, my bare ass pressed to the pleather of their chairs.

"Call us Sir"

"As you wish" I said without really thinking it out.

"Now stand on your head" said the first boy who had spoken.

I looked at his mom, she didn't seem shocked.

I nervously walked over to the wall, and did a somersault to sort of keep my balance and lifted my legs nervously leaning against the wall, to which "Cool" and "NEAT!" followed. This wasn't so bad.

"Bark like a dog"

I had a sudden suspicion perhaps Master had talked to them in advance, which if he had perhaps this was a test, but if he hadn't then these boys were weird as hell, but then aren't most of them? I was silent and then they said "Come on" and pleaded as if it was some sort of obligation. I did some mental calculations, about walking out or sticking with it. I was already in pretty deep here and no one was freaking out. Perhaps no harm, no foul I was thinking. I was actually thinking “I was getting away” with something as opposed to these young guys getting a gander at a naked ass of a grown woman. I grudgingly made the woof sound I was used too making for Sir and they tittered and slapped each others hands.

"Do a breakdance!" one of them shouted, and I said I didn't know what that means, the other said "never mind, he is stupid, um" and they shouted for a few other poses not in unison.

Eventually their mom pointed out "Okay, this is getting kind of weird, you guys had enough?" to which all of them said no, no.

"Well, I have, jeezus, you brats. you can go home now, Sherry or Butt or whatever. I want to give you something to wear home, but you never bring anything of mine back. If I give you something will you bring it right back?"

"Yes Ma'am" I didn't want to turn on Master now and say it was his idea not to return anything.

"Okay" and she gave me a sundress, similar to the one she had on.

When I got home with Abbey, Master ordered me to present at the door step and I got the distinct feeling I was being observed by a bike load of boys from their house. I did as I was told and Abbey just sort of stood there.

"Well, nice dress. Crawl inside and take it off" He had me tell him how it had gone and when I got the part about bringing it back, he smiled and said "Okay bring it back"

I looked at him and asked what I should wear, Sir.

"What you have on...oh, and these" he held up the manacles and attached them to my leg "You earned them bitch" and he gave me a congralatory slap to the ass.

It was still daylight outside, and now it was worse because it must have been at least noon and people were out and about. I started to run and stalk my way out and Master was standing on the porch and said "Walk, no march"

"That motherfucker" I whispered under my breath.

"I heard that" he shouted after me. I wasn't sure if he had, or just assumed I would be grumbling as I began my high stepping march in a straight line bare assed and bare foot.

Sure enough the boys were on their bikes, about four of them following me as I carried the sun dress. I didn't look back or to the sides, but I could almost FEEL curtain shades being opened and shut as people peered through their blinds at this flashing whore who was walking down their streets and possibly picked up their phones to call the cops.

Adrenalin had to be making me jiggle I was so damned scared. More scared than when Sir attacked me in the mornings or tied me up.

I knocked on Ellen's door as the boys stood around in the yard cackling to one another about this, which had to be an all time urban legend "The day that naked lady showed up" I could almost hear them telling their dis-believing friends about the story one day..

She smiled as I handed her the dress and I didn't explain. She just said "You ARE serious aren't you? well don't go to jail or anything...to each their own" and she shut the door and took back the dress. I now had to make the return trip and the boys again on my heels.

It was pretty obvious to me now, that essentially Ellen was a ‘live and let live’ kind of person, who perhaps had seen and heard enough these days to make an intelligent decision to just not interfere in how people choose to live. I was wondering if it would be this easy when with my family. Some how I doubted it! That mother fucker!

When I got back to our house, there stood Abbey naked on the porch as well. Now she had ran around the house naked or in an old shirt of mine that passed for a night shirt, but that was just around the house.

When I got up to the house I was furious with her, and I said "Did Master" I paused thinking perhaps I should just use his first name, I had about as much as I could take of this, and now he was telling her what to do?

I slammed the doors leaving the boys out to the street, suddenly forgetting totally about our arrangement! and what I thought would be their own break of weirdness that they can tell the story of, as unbelievable as it was. I walked up to Master with Abbey in toe and said "Did you order her to stand out there too?"

"Hell no!" he said.

"Abbey, hon..you don't have to do what I do"

"I know, but you get all the attention"

"Oh hon" I cradled her in my arms "Its bad attention, seriously don't go outside naked like that, its not fun, trust me, I know first hand"

"Then why do you go outside like that?"

"I was told too Abbey"

"Its Ma'am, butt" she said in a cute but firm way.

"Oh you rotten cuss" I didn't agree or disagree I just rubbed my hands in her hair and told her to put some clothes on.

Sir smiled, and didn't bother to punish me for making the mistake on calling her by her first name. It was too cool a moment, and added "You aren't going to sabotage this thing before we go to your parents on monday. You've had Abbey out of school this entire month and we've only a day or so to go. In fact, I want you to have a human day tommorow"

A human day, is where you spend the entire day pretty much normal. You still show respect, but you get to wear clothes, and even though all night long he kept me as a slave, this time in a small wooden box he just called "The box" with my tongue stuck through a small binder and bound up in the fetal position. That morning true to his word, he fucked me hard and then said as he was cumming "When we get back, I want you to go off birth control pills, I want a big family". I smiled and held him close. I had envied Ellen for having such a big family. I wasn't sure how I would deal with it, or if hers was just more accepting than most, or if perhaps the years with Springer, Maury and trash TV had made them more accepting of a Christina Aguilera instead of Debbie Gibson idol, but I did want a big family.

He let me put on some jeans and a regular blouse, bra and panties. Took us to Dennys. I ate last and he ordered for me, but it was pretty good using silverware and eating. He took us shopping at the mall and we made jokes about some of the hardware and pet supplies (which we bought) for the upcoming trip.

It was a blast, and there were quite a few times Abbey AND Master caught themselves calling me Sherry. We talked freely, laughed, and while I was the butt of many of Masters jokes (He can't help himself it seems) it was as mild mannered a time as I'd ever had with him.

I was not disappointed at all.

Master called Ellen and told her that on Monday we would be gone for a few weeks but that I would be available to come over when we got home, as I was unloading the car. There were no cops there to investigate me on charges of indecent exposure, there was nothing that would stop me from going in the morning to my moms. Ellen said she hadn't laughed that hard in years (Although I didn't see her laugh) and that I was welcome anytime.

That night I slept in bed with Master, and we made passionate love, the kind of sensual stuff and it wasn't bad at all. He didn't pee on me or anything. He did cum in my mouth, but otherwise it was as "normal" as you can get.

The eye before the storm, because in the morning we would be taking a rental car across the country to Memphis and I had already been told I could either ride in the backseat naked or in the trunk, my choice. I had chosen the backseat, but had my doubts I could pull it off without being seen.

We were about to embark on an adventure that made coming to Ellen's house and revealing to almost strangers seem like childs play. We went over the challenges again that night, and he told me that I would be copying the challenge again over and over and over on paper on the way there.

I guess I am finally ready to tell you all about it.

 

[sherry_85]

PART EIGHT: What a long strange Trip


The trip begin early in the morning, as I said I had loaded up the rental car with all our luggage. Sir having packed a single bag for me, which included mainly T-shirts, but some regular clothes, shoes, makeup and some toys. He had his leather bag of cuffs, candles, and BDSM toys as well, which made me smile as I loaded it into our trunk.

When we set off Abbey was belted into the front seat, and I was sitting in the back in the buff on my hands pressed in close to some suitcases and pillows but with my shoulders to some windows. At first I had protested this, because I couldn't see a highway patrol or something wouldn't eventually come along and pull us over if they saw a naked woman in the window.

I realized though at that angle really its hard to notice, you would assume (because you aren't looking for that) that the bare shoulders you see are nothing provocative and that I must have on a tube top or low cut blouse. Still it was making me kind of nervous.

Sir cut the AC on full and turned up the radio. He is a fan of country music, which didn't bother me much, since after all I had asked for a life of torture.

We pulled out and headed for Memphis, and soon silence descended on the car, broken only by Abbey asking questions or making comments about a sign on the side of the road. She is after all a bit of a jabber jaw. Sir would listen and patiently respond to her, but he seemed focused on the task of driving. He had told me he wanted me to take a turn at the wheel to get better time before we left, but I had insisted on not driving.

One of my big things in being a slave, was that I'd prefer to forget to use the computer and how to drive or deal with money and bills. You see, I think a good compromise to being a slave is that I shouldn't have to make any important big decisions any longer and that while if Abbey were sick and I had to take her to the hospital I'd do whatever I needed too to get us there, I still would prefer in most circumstances to think I had been "forbidden to drive". Sir humored me on this one, and allowed me to cling to the pretend notion that he was treating me as such.

I know it sounds stupid, the slave placing requirements on the Master, but before we met I had made several requirements known. Including that he not spend more than four hours a day on the computer in his spare time when at home. Thats not really topping from the bottom, as much as it is ensuring that both of us can agree with the contract and live that way. A very dear friend of mine said one of her biggest problems with one master had been he simply spent too much time away from her on the PC trying to recruit other girls to join them, and I did not want to repeat the same situation. I had asked for some idea of how much time per week we'd really spend training and how much time would be 'freetime' to be casual with a little discipline thrown in once it went perm, and Sir had answered with about 80/20 of our time together being spent with some element of training. It may not be tied up and slapped with whips of course, but simply my being required to kneel or be at his side.

I spent most of my time on the trip thinking about how the last few weeks had gone and if it would be as easy with my own family as it had been with strangers. I some how doubted it would be for me to reveal to those I had history with, and I doubted that they would deal with it as Ellen had in the "Hey, to each their own" philosophy that she seemed to have. I mean she thought I Was weird and probably wouldn't trust me alone around her sons (or daughters, for that matter) now that she saw I had been willing to stand on my head and humiliate myself that first session in the nude. However, she also liked the idea of a casual fling on the side, getting her house cleaned and getting paid on top of it. I knew that would what I was travelling at 65 MPH towards now though, was going to be another animal all together.

I knew that the holiday challenge symbolized the end of my life as Sherry Nettles and perhaps the beginning of my life as "Butt". In addition it was to be a test of obedience and probably a lot of my early experience in BDSM had been a test of myself in one form or another, this one just seemed to give me so many butterflies in my stomach. Whenever you let a man tie you up, even if you know him, you run the risk he may do something accidentally cutting off your blood supply or intentionally hurt or kill you, why would that not be as scary as my family knowing what I had become?

Master William made it a point to say that he disliked routine and when we had been negotiating the rules, limits and expectations of our contract he and I had a lot of discussion about "worst case scenarios". In other words, lets say he said "I am going to put you in a cage" well thats not so bad, but how long could I be kept in one without being allowed to get out and stretch? what is the smallest/crampest cage? would the cage be out in the backyard or open to people to see me, or hidden in our "Room"? and even if you knew all this, you'd still have to wonder is this something I'd have to endure daily, weekly, or just every now and then?

He had been reluctant to put these kinds of rules in place, because he thought that they spoiled the surprise and perhaps made it impossible for him to be spontaneous. I had managed to convince him that without knowing what I was signing on for, I could not commit. I had also told him he could still be very spontaneous within the rules and that I would try very hard (as I had been) to support that and entertain new rules and consequences and challenges. For the most part though, the days I had spent in his house had fallen into a pattern, whether he knew it or not, and I had a certain amount of fear in my stomach about what we were doing now, precisely because it was so different.

I wanted the trial to be as close to the reality of what it will be after I commit to life, as it could be. In addition, discipline to me, was based partly on routine and consistency. If he said two hours and it really was three hours, that wouldn't be so big a deal, but at least I had some idea of about what to expect.

We sort of likened this trial as a soldier going through basic training. While I had only seen movies like Stripes! and Private Benjamin, Officer and a Gentleman that sort of thing, I had a fair understanding of the process. You first get examined by the service to determine if you are even what they are looking for/trainable (mentally and physically. Then a drill sergeant takes you for a few months and teaches you the basics of what you need to know which was the trial we were in now. For that drill to be effective, it could not be based on what the individual was capable of "Okay, you can do 35 push ups and he can do only 10, so you have to do 35 push ups and he has to do 10". It was that everyone must do 20 or whatever the service required you to do. So it was with the trial rules, if Master should take an additional slave, my hope was he would train her as he did me. The Holiday challenge though was a bonus just for me.

Once though the trial was over though, I can certainly agree that within a house with multiple slaves that a pecking order would only be natural. There would have to be a top girl, and anyone else living there would understand that. I kind of felt that if that were to be the case, Master would want me to be the top girl, even though I wouldn't want any responsibility, I could see myself easily being territorial and competitive with other girls.

I had some time to really just reflect on the sex, and the obedience, and discipline of the trial and my reasons for coming. I mean here I was a grown adult woman who had always been resourceful enough on my own. For my part, I hadn't even mentioned Abbey's father in all this because I had been a single mom for so long, I hadn't even thought about him. I had never wanted child support payments from him and he had long since stopped coming around to see Abbey. It had been my character all my life to be tough and strong, and not to rely on anyone. Yet, some how finding out if I was meant to be a submissive had occupied all my thoughts for the last few years in the back of my mind.

I mean imagine the irony of having had these stories where the woman had been bound by the fact her tormentor had some blackmail over her, and then deciding to submit to someone "just because I wanted too". Was I just as bad as those authors had been of what I described in the start of my story as "Bad Internet fiction" where the women in most of the stories either wanted to submit or eventually grew to want to submit? I used to attribute that to the fact that it made the story easier for the author and their readers to enjoy.

For instance, a story I once read about a cowboy ranch where women are kept generation ally since the slave days as ponies. They are stabled, treated and trained as if they were horses. Bred and trained to do rodeos, where the ones who grew up there knew nothing but what they learned on the ranch, and never wore a stitch of clothing other than leather straps. While the story was titilating, it had so many holes in it. I mean how did the owner of the ranch support himself? in the story it didn't matter to the author, apparently he was just wealthy. I mean how do you pay for all these people? all the ranch hands work for free? have no family or friends who show up unexpectedly?

And to my point about some of the women, were volunteers from the local community who just liked the feel of the whip and extroverts who wanted to be ogled by perverted ranch hands. At the time I read it, I could understand that because from my perspective I had gone to some pony training to see how I could deal with it. I could not imagine though committing to living like that for the rest of your life to the point, you aren't concern if you get sold or that your children get raised up to be slaves, etc. The story did not bring up any of these points, but then it was written by a guy, so I guess thats really a female type of question you ask yourself. Thinking ahead as we do in relationships, I guess its natural.
The story never covered how you deal with kids or growing old or whatever, but I guess it didn't have too for its purposes.

Of all those story flaws, In the story he had "Half-broke fillies" which was the writers way of defining women who had been abducted and to be trained. Those women he all had 'eventually love' their torment and training. That was the real strain to me. I mean why do they have to eventually 'enjoy' it? isn't the point of training the unwilling that they resist and appear repulsed and angry at their treatment? I mean a willing rape is such an oxymoron that, by its very definition it can't happen, and yet most of these stories involved the women not only liking it so much they will work hard to get even more punishment and pain and situations that are uncomfortable.

Yet, here I was sitting on my hands, waiting naked at a BP gas station for my Master, hoping and wondering what would happen, and having volunteered to do all these obscene and humiliating acts. I was a regular bad fiction internet cliche' but I could be nothing other than what I truly am. I wanted this, I had to face it.

I have been told that when I free form think things out like this, it stops the narrative of what happened and interrupts the flow of the story. I can really think of no other way though to express to you my thoughts at the time. Its important you understand them, because without that context you may be asking yourself "Why does this crazy broad do this?" and you may assume by how easily I accepted Sir's judgments and stood on my head at Ellen's house that I was simply a stupid slut who didn't realize what I was doing or why. Yet, I do understand. On a side note, I don't mind you calling me a stupid slut and I will answer to it. Hah.

Anyway, if you ever read "Catcher in the Rye" when you were in grade school, you may recall that part of his story was that he sort of wrote stream of thought, as well as his narrative. I am in no way saying I am able to achieve the same result, I guess that author was a genius, but in inviting you to look into my head, as well as describing how I sucked a cock or went places and did things, I am revealing the pieces of myself to you that I should.

I mean if I am going to dare my family to look under the hood of my exterior with this titillating game, then I should be willing to get on the web and share with my friends and even strangers these thoughts and who knows, maybe it will be healthy. Maybe some one with a secret life that they are too ashamed to share with their family will feel compelled to set up a challenge such as mine that fits their situation, and if they are found out, pay the consequences, possibly burning bridges. If they are not found out, you can enter into your new life with more of a clear conscience that you tried. There is an element of psychological closure here.

Back to the trip at hand, periodically, he stopped and got gas; he and Abbey stretched their legs and got a soda. He didn't make me pump gas, because as I say I was butt naked in the backseat. The time came that first day I had to pee, and I said something like "Sir, May I go pee?" with the reluctant but polite tone I had adopted as a course of my training. He would stop along the side of the road, and I would be allowed to run out to a bush by a barbed wire fence, squat down in the high grass and pee. Toilet paper was something of a privilege in Sirs training for me, limited to "Three squares a day" and so I was used to making do with nothing at all.

He would tease and revv the car up as if he were leaving me, and making me chase the car quickly as cars wizzed by, no doubt going for their double-take "Was that a naked woman?" and then the subsequent thought "no, thats so unlikely, she must have had something on" or perhaps going for their cell phones to warn the highway patrol that a perverted flasher was on the loose. In any case, it didn't bring any unwanted attention.

Later that day he pulled into Mcdonalds drive thru, and ordered me what he called an "Unhappy Meal", consisting of a cheeseburger and fries with a cup of ice. He gave Abbey the same thing, but she likes her cheeseburger plain. He insisted on talking to me as he gave the cashier the money in the window, but I did not flinch I just said in response "No sir, I don't have any money on me" as I sat there watching the goosebumps prickle up on my bare nipples as I sit face forward on my hands.

Abbey kind of giggled, but was a good actress and didn't say anything at all.

As he picked up our food, he whispered over to the boy at the second window "Yes, she is naked, get over it" whose mouth fell suddenly open, as we pulled away. God, what chances we were taking, and for what reason? Was it making him feel good to flaunt me? Was he getting the adrenalin rush I was getting?

At least for his part, he seemed to know the unspoken rule of exhibitionism versus humiliation. If it was my idea or no one made me, then there was not as much of an effect. For instance, before I met him, I could have easily just walked down my street naked or gone to the mail box and bent over for the mail box guy or whatever. I sat around the house naked all the time or half dressed casually. Yet, when you have someone requiring you too, or you 'accidentally' lock yourself out of your house when you go to get your newspaper in your undies or something, thats where the real fear begins. It was kind of like the feeling you get when you are about to go up or down real fast on a roller coaster. You don't have that blind exhilarating rush of rapid free fall, but you know something is about to happen and your hart hits your tummy. It was kind of like that, except you start to get used to it being so consistent.

I said "Thank you sir for the food, may I eat?" and he said "Sure butt, just let me set it out for you...I can't take my hand of the wheel, Abbey will you open up her sandwich and set it here on the arm wrest between the seats?". I wasn't sure what was going on.

She did and I soon realized, he wasn't going to let me take my hands from under my butt to pick up the hamburger. After she laid it out for me, I bent over at the waist and stretched to bite into the burger but I couldn't pick it up with my mouth and break off any. I was nibbling.

"Sir, I can't eat it like this, can we not allow me to eat with my hands?"

"Jeez, you want everything the easy way!" he said, but in a mock humorous tone, not heavy handed "Abbey, tear up her burger into pieces".

I stopped him "Please sir, I'd prefer she not..." I wasn't sure why it seemed taboo, but it just didn't seem write for her to tear up my burger for me to eat. I tried to quickly think of a good reason to explain it to him. When she was a baby, I had wripped up her food and set it on her tray to eat in the same fashion, but that wasn't really a very good reason.

He sensed my discomfort. "Look, I can't take my hands off the wheel, and I am not going to stop. You have a choice, plain and simple, you can be practical and let her rip it up, or you can turn your eyes and pretend I wripped it up, but its already half torn and the more of an issue you make about this now, the more its going to be making Abbey uncomfortable" which Abbey didn't respond too, she didn't have too.

"Yes Sir"

She wripped up the burger and I waited for her to finish before I started again.

"Oh fries" he added "Smush some fries into her burger, and then pour some coke on it please Abbey?"

"SIR?" I said questioningly and shocked.

"Just kidding, Butt. Jeez....you are so black and white about everything.

Abbey sort of laughed at the predicament and that made it easier to calm down. She didn't smush my food or anything, and I stuck my tongue out like a cat, wrapped it around each piece of the burger and ate, eventually turning to my now cold fries as they had finished long before I did. It was difficult to eat without anything to drink, but I had grown very used to it while I was at his house. Usually when I ate over the sink I wasn't allowed to drink except at the end, and then it was poured water in the cup of his hands that I sucked up real quick.

"Thirsty?" He asked.

I thought about saying I wasn't, but realized it was a long trip. I said "Yes Sir" and he asked Abbey to hold my ice cup to my lips, as I sucked the straw. God, he was making this hard.

You may be asking yourself, about Abbey by now. She seemed to be a little trooper in all of this, and I failed to probably present her as the fun loving, wise cracking, talk-machine that she is fully. You may be a bit disappointed that we 'involved' her to this degree, many do find that to be the case.

Let me say this much about it to put your concerns to rest. I may have mentioned she is the single most important thing I can point to in my existence that I can be proud of. The majority of my concerns had been about her and how we would deal with things like this very issue.

When people are asking you about family and BDSM, they ask something like "Are you going to tell her about it"? as if "it" or "this" encapsulates the entire length and breadth of obedience training/slavery. I think thats a little naive. There are some things that I knew would be known, and others I had hoped to at least shield her from, that she never see/know, and then some things that when the time came, I had hoped to at least arm her with the right answers about it.

I mean you may come to realize your parents had sex when you learn that sex is what it takes to have a child and they had you, but you never had to see them doing it, to know that it happens right?

So it would have been impossible to go on this trip as it was with her in the car, and then somehow keep her in this imaginary bubble with blinders and ear plugs on and rosy colored glasses that kept her thinking that I was like any other mom. I mean who says I had to be like other moms?

I do realize though that it gives some power to her, some authority is taken from me when she has to tear up my food for me and extended to her and I was prepared for some of that where it made sense or where it was consistent. What a meanie I would be, if I said "Okay, everyone else in the world can boss me around...EXCEPT for you". yet, there is another part of me that says once you give up that authority, you can't so easily regain it, and maybe its hormonal, or maybe its just common sense, but you want to minimize that as much as you can and do no damage to her in the long term.

So it was that I approached this training, with the apprehension that it was do. That the simple act of chewing back a stale old cheeseburger, could be made into a form of training and done enough it would seem like a routine/ritual and that in itself would also take the form of discipline. That what starts out as a practical seeming necessity, her feeding me, could end up biting me in the ass as I find her bringing fresh food to my cage or petting me on the head and being unable to logically see a way out of this other than putting an end to it an never coming back to my submission until she grows up.

No, I had to come up with the perfect balance. A way to have this training and for her to have her childhood with out being blamed for any issues that come up later in her life. I had to endure some of this around her, because there was simply no way to flick off this kind of training like a light switch and expect her to know nothing ever happened. A "Yes Sir" or left out leather collar even could tip off some one to what is going on behind closed doors if they live with you.

Sane people say "Well, if you get found out for being into an alternative life, you can address it at that time" and I agree, that is one way to deal with it. You can lead a double life and try to be as 'normal' as you can and have all that authority on the surface and in the bedroom or 'sessions' you can submit. But, I was wanting to be a slave who gave up the ability to drive and manage her own money, who doesn't sit on furniture and whose life is consistent 24/7 training. It would be better to simply plan to reveal and address those surface issues that are going to be known from the very start and decide what stays behind closed doors.

I finished sucking the last of the melted ice through my straw and stopped sucking. Sir heard this and said "tell her thank you butt". I reluctantly added "Thank you Abbey for the drink".

There was silence for a minute and he added "Its Miss Aubrey, or Ma'am when we get to your parents". And with that silence, I felt my hart skip a beat and the silence lingered in the air.

A few hours later, it got dark and Master was looking for a motel. He farted and waited. I said (As we had agreed I would do) "Ooops, I am sorry I a farted, please forgive me" and he laughed. Abbey just added "Gross" and we all had a good laugh.

When Master pulled into the motel, he had us both wait in the car, and once we pulled into the parking lot in front of the room he through me a t-shirt that had the outlines of a bird, a poodle and the same bird, and underneath the words "Swallow, Bitch, Swallow". I grimaced and he said "bring in the bags in the front seat, and I will order us a Pizza.

He got on his cell phone and I started carrying in the bags while Abbey jumped on the bed in the room. I looked at her and instinctively said "Abbey, quit jumping on the bed."

She did but said "Its Miss Abbey!" defiantly.

Sir walked in and overheard and said "Abbey, get off the bed, don't rub your moms nose in it".

Interesting, he took my side over my daughters. I was hoping Abbey wasn't going to get confused, but I was glad I still had some authority. I am sure Master William hadn't really thought about the battles that were going on in my head or the consequences of siding with either of us. It probably served him that he let me keep her from doing stuff like that, and so he had simply made a snap decision.

I smiled, and as I smiled so infrequently, preferring to show either a blank expression or misery on my face, it probably came off as a smart assed grin. Master noticed and said "Get that smart assed grin off your face Butt" led me by my hand into the bathroom and spanked my ass with a wooden brush for about 10 minutes and then had me suck him off quickly.

"You know what to do" he said as he pulled out his cock and rubbed the head infront of my mouth while I kneeled red-assed on the bathroom tile. I did, and I sucked him, letting my spit lubricate his cock, while I gave him a healthy bobbing and rigorous blow job.

"Good practice, okay the Pizza will be here soon, you are going to pay for it" He said as he spunked into my eye, pulling out at the last second.

"Oh shit" I managed to say.

"Don't worry, you can wipe off the cum before you go out there...but only because Abbey is out there, if she wasn't with us, I'd have you answer the door as you are" and he through a washcloth at me. He gave me a brief outline of what he wanted me to do, and things like this were in the rules of our contract, but only if he had dared to make me. He dared.

When the Pizza guy got there, he knocked and I said just a minute. Master William took Abbey into the bathroom and said "c'mon, lets hide" as I looked at the twenty dollar bill on the bed, me in nothing else but collar and foot and leg shackles, in the reflection in the mirror. I took a deep breath and did as I had been told before his arrival.

I rolled the twenty into a straw like you use for coke, and I quickly said "Cumming" to the door. I grinned at the humor as I stuck the straw into my mouth hole (Masters word for mouth) between my teeth and opened the door cautiously. It was as I had expected a young guy about mid twentys, looking like a reject from the movie American Pie.

"Hello" he said.

I looked straight ahead and he was a bit shocked and unsure of what the deal was. He handled it well "Hah, well there is a first for everything...do you um, want me to come in?"

I shook my head no, and he seemed confused..."Okay, well then can I have the money, you are um, have in your mouth?"

I shook my head yes, and he seemed to be waiting for me to give it.

"I have to take it?" he finally offered, as I listened to crickets chirping and felt the cold night breeze through my body as I stood in the opened motel doorway, hoping people didn't pass by.

I shook my head yes. He seemed to be confused but reached up with his hand. I held out my hand to stop him and mumbled "not with your hand".

"Oh" he finally got it and while he was a little on the short side, put on one hand on my waist, bent down and put his mouth around the twenty and slid it off, I could feel his tongue come up to my lips on the chance that perhaps I would open my mouth.

Master had this thing about me kissing other guys. He had me as I said earlier blow his friends and he was not at all worried about me having sex with strangers. He had a lot of confidence in the realm of sharing a woman, and that it was a test of my obedience, not of his possessiveness or generosity to have me serve other men on his behalf. Yet, he didn't want me to tongue kiss. He felt that it was like a Mexican whore or something, and while he had yet to share me very much, I had for my part had sex with a lot of strange guys since getting into this D/s thing and was willing if he set it up.

I stood in the door way and didn’t close it after he finally took the twenty and handed me the pizza. "Is there something else?" he said confused, as I looked straight ahead.

I gathered up my courage "Your tip...that pays for the pizza"

"Okay, put it in your mouth" clearly he wasn't weary of this game yet.

"I have a twenty for you in my other holes"

"What? Which one?" he blurted out.


"Both of them?"

If he had been a naive little virgin, he sure didn't show it. He looked down and noticed that I had a twenty rolled up just like the one in my mouthing jutting down out of my twat.
He didn't need encouragement, he got down on his knees, looked up and lapped me, and then sucked out the twenty. "Fuck, you are wild..no one will believe this?" he said

"I can't stay at the door all night, but if you have a camera?" I ad-libbed, this wasn't something I had been told I could offer, but he didn't take me up on it. He just added hopefully, "Is the other one deeper in? The other twenty?"

I turned around still holding the pizza "Other hole" this was too easy.

"Gross lady, I am not kissing your butt." "You keep it"

Some guys weren't into the butt and I was relieved anyway, he was so nervous and fearful it kind of made me repulsed by him. I said only "As you wish" and walked into the room.

When the door shut, Master came out laughing and pulled the last twenty out of my butt and had me sniff it and said "don't blame him".

"Well Abbey, how should your mom eat the pizza?" he said, moving on to the next issue.

She didn't have an answer, and neither had I. They both had slices in a few moments and eating them hot over a napkin, they both looked at me as I stood there naked clueless.

"I could wait until its cold and you are both done?" I offered enthusiastically.

"C'mon its a vacation, can't you think of anything interesting?" he said to me.

"Not really Sir, thats why you are the master"

"Its always work" he grumbled. Then he through a pepperoni at me and said fetch, after the hot little slab of meat and cheese thudded and bounced off my body. I went down and picked it up and ate it.

"Not good enough" and he through another one at me and I flinched, and before you know it, Abb was also throwing mushrooms, peppers, onions, melted cheese, at me and what was weird about this. We were all three smiling. It was funny.

It wasn't at all the horrid, and psuedo-incestuous kind of thing I had thought perhaps would happen. It wasn't evil. It wasn't the kind of thing that if childcare workers discovered they would or should take your kid away from you. It was just plain old fun. Sure I didn't fire any pizza back, but I took some hot cheese to the body and they both periodically ate a bite and then chucked something at me. I even did a thing where I shrugged, and walked back and forth in a straight line like a moving target at the fair going "Ding" and then turning back the other direction.

I wasn't even concerned about the little pieces of carpet hair that I was eating when I bent down to grab one, or that Sir liked to time his throw for precisely when I was bending over to pick something up. I just did it, and found that like my earlier thoughts about nudity being taboo to some people and how if you just go ahead and 'get over it' its not nearly as bad as you had wondered.

We all genuinely laughed, as a family. When I think about moments in my life, its genuine laughter that sticks out the most.

Later she brushed her teeth and went to sleep watching Dexter’s Laboratory and Master and I shared the other double bed. She had on one of my old shirts, I was naked still, and Master was wearing underwear and a T-shirt.

When she was finally out, he said "Okay, are you ready for where you are going to spend the night?"

"On the floor?"I said, as if I didn't care.

"No outside, c'mon dumbass"

and with that he flung off the sheets and took me by my hand...

Strangely, I smiled “That Mother Fucker” I thought silently, both cussing him and thinking he was definitely a creative and consistent cuss.