The Family Feud IV

Chapter Forty Three
Wendy’s Journal: If I am the author of my own life it is time to end this chapter and start killing off some characters

**Note to reader: This is an excerpt of Wendy’s journal from Thursday early morning from her perspective. The events take place after 5am while she is standing on her kitchen table. In order to increase readability, some of the dialogue exchanged was altered to appear in a ‘narrative’ story format.

CASH EARNINGS THURSDAY

WENDY: $0 WEIGHTS: 0
JAMIE: $50 WEIGHTS: 0

If someone had predicted I would be willingly standing naked on my kitchen table with the curtains wide open six weeks ago I would have laughed right in their face.

I was not only standing there but I was also dancing naked.

I was actually rocking my hips back and forth every now and then to the beat of the music on the stereo. I was doing it to keep awake and to comply with the order in case Chris or Bill came downstairs and were spying on me not for the benefit of any hapless jogger who happened to stumble by this early in the morning. The guys had left the stereo up loud enough so I could hear it to dance but not loud enough it would stop them from sleeping in their own cozy beds upstairs.

I had nothing but time – time to reflect on how completely crazy my life had become and on all the disgusting things I had done the night before and will continue to do.

I could also reflect on my son’s ingenious rope handiwork. He and his father must have installed reinforced hooks in the kitchen ceiling at some point with the intention of suspending us with them. He had run a thin cord around my torso and tied my arms flat to my sides and then ran it through the holes in my clit and nipple rings before running it through the hooks in the ceiling.

There was just enough play in the rope that I could squat down to the table’s surface and get my face to the table if I first bent at the knees and kneeled before going prone. I know this because I had already dropped a little of the pancake my son had made me force into my pussy before he went upstairs to sleep in his nice, warm bed.

The two of them had walked out of the kitchen and flipped off the light without a concern or a care – or as much as a look over their shoulder at me dancing naked in the window. Their rooms on the second floor were far enough away from the music that even that would not bother them – they are both heavy sleepers so that wouldn’t have been a problem for them anyway.

The bright side was that they forgot to leave the light on in the kitchen. The curtains may have been pulled open wide but as our house was far enough back from the street that with the light off it was difficult to see in our house. A person would have to know to look in to see me.

The bigger problem for me was the chance I might fall asleep while I was on the kitchen table. If I did the rope would not have held me – I would have hit the kitchen table. It was also flimsy and wobbly – not intended for the weight of a full grown woman – Jamie would have had a much easier time of it on this table.

I made mental notes about how I would write my journal when I finally got a chance to tap at my cell phone. I sang along with the rap songs. I scanned the desperate darkened street we lived on for signs of early morning joggers and dog walkers – I knew it was only a matter of time before I was spotted and it was the anticipation that was making it all the worse.

If someone had just gone ahead and seen me and screamed it would be over and I could stop breathing heavy and my heart could stop pounding. As it was – I was thankful for the heightened adrenalin that comes from the abject terror I was facing because it was helping me stay awake.

I had plenty of time to think about Jamie too. I could see the morning dew rolling in and the fog hover over the grass of our lawn. I knew Jamie was tied up outside at the motel and out in that wet, damp night air and I worried about her.

I must have also pictured Deacon Dan and his crew of psychotic homeless bums getting paid a visit by Officer Mark and the police department at my husband’s request at least a dozen times. In my fantasies, they not only got an ass beating but Deacon Dan had to jog naked on a treadmill in my kitchen window to keep just seconds ahead of some automated lawn shears that were aimed right at his nuts.

I could take some solace that we left the streets a better place tonight. We had eliminated a dangerous scum bag who was probably hurting prostitutes out on the streets for weeks before we showed up.

I had also obviously given pleasure to some men who were consenting adults with the cash to pay for my services which provided food and shelter to my family. That was the job of any whore in the world’s oldest profession and I am sure everyone’s family tree had at least one prostitute in it at some point.

All in all that was a fair trade and all it cost me was my self-respect, dignity and a little skin. I had to laugh that the worst punishments of all usually seemed to be ones like these where I spend all this time to stew and think, alone with my thoughts. Even weeks after this began I still dread the long periods of alone time in my subjugation. I would worry, fret, think and over analyze my situation for the next few hours all the while my eyes were scanning the sidewalk for the first signs of someone seeing me moving in the shadows of my kitchen.

The first person to come walking down the sidewalk happened by at about 6:45 a.m. It was Mrs. Waxerman and her dog Mr. Snips. I hadn’t seen that crazy old bat in what felt like weeks – I smiled and kept dancing since this would not be a shock to her at all.

She was naturally walking with her head cocked to look into everyone’s windows so there was no chance she would not spot me. I could not tell if she saw that I had ropes tied around me so that I could not move my arms but she stopped in front of my house and moved side to side looking in the way a Raptor does in Jurassic Park as it considers whether it can eat the humans hiding in that over turned jeep.

Her eyes narrowed into slits and then she shook her fist at me. I could just make out “That devilish rap music will wake everyone up!”

I had to grin and dance a little more – was she really upset about the loud music? Had she become so used to seeing me naked that she didn’t see that as shocking anymore? Or had she just not been able to see me very well in the dark kitchen because the sun had yet to rise and it was still dark outside?

I would have waved good-bye to her as she walked away with a broad grin on my face but as it stands, all I could do was turn and do my half-step hip-swivel dance as she eventually walked away grumbling to herself. I am sure she was reciting bible verse and cantankerous old mountain sayings.

I should also mention that my stomach was growling from lack of food and my tits were sore and aching. I wanted relief so badly –anything to pull them and drain my engorged breasts. I would even pull down a little on the weight of the rope to add tension to it and stimulate my nipples slightly to try to give myself a little bit of relief. I would have done a little more but I kept thinking my weight would cause the entire kitchen table to collapse.

I know all women are self-conscious about their weight or they are just liars. I am sure that even delicately framed, Jamie with her petit figure and perfect little body thinks she is a fat ass at times. I know I am a ‘MILF’ by Chris’s friends’ standards because I’ve heard them call me that enough. Despite all that positive feedback I still visualize myself to be this cantankerous plodding donkey with these enormously swollen watermelons on my chest.

It would be another thirty minutes before the first jogger appeared on the sidewalk. He checked his watch as he ran and didn’t notice me. The crack of dawn was like God’s starting pistol for joggers and it was not long before the first jogger was replaced by a second and a third and a fourth.

On Martin Luther King Junior Boulevard if someone is running – especially at this time of the morning it is because they are trying to get away from somebody else. They would have a lot easier time comprehending the idea of me naked in a window, hung out by my pimp as a lesson than they would of someone who got up out of their bed and chose to go run outside.

The cultural differences are astounding, because having lived in Cherry Lawn for so long I never stopped to think about how crazy it must seem for affluent people to put on jogging suits and run in the morning every single day.

I had stopped really trying to dance in place. I would jiggle and bounce with a half-hearted knee bend more to keep myself awake than to appease Chris or Bill if they happened to wake up and check on me. The music was loud enough that I thought someone would look in the window of our house but the joggers and dog walkers stuck to their routine and aside from a nosy one like Mrs. Waxerman they paid no attention to me. I smiled that I was getting away with it. I had probably not been on the table for more than 20 minutes or so but I could see myself getting through this ordeal relatively unscathed.

That is when the first bit started to release out of my ass.

I could feel my asshole start to open and I tried my hardest to tighten my cheeks and stop it but when it happened it happened fast. The molasses like syrup had congealed and hardened and now my asshole was spasming along with a muscle on the inside of my body that wanted it out and it wanted out now!

I looked down and realized I could not stop myself from urinating all over the table either as a full release out of both holes began. I bit my lip and began to feel nauseous as I smelled the crap I just shit all over the table. I crouched low on the table to control the splatter and then when it had all stopped – a tiny little jet of pee splashed over it.

This was not what Chris had in mind when he put me on the table. I am sure in his mind the molasses like syrup probably would have helped keep my ass shut and he thought I would just drop a little bit of bacon or pancake – at least that is what I thought would happen when I agreed to this.

I could feel my slimy ass-goo all over my feet and while most of it was the pancake, syrup and bacon there was also shit mixed into it.

I sniffed the air and thought for a few moments, wishing I could wipe my wet asshole or at least itch it. Then I thought for a few more minutes wishing I could stop thinking about wiping my wet asshole or at least scratch the itch in it.

I began to whisper ‘Oh my Gawd, Oh my Gawd! What am I gonna do now?’ a move of desperation that does absolutely nothing to fix the problem.

There was no way I could hold all of that back-asswash that coated the table in my mouth even if I didn’t wretch trying to hold just some of the crumbled flapjacks and syrup.

I continued squatting on the table for a long minute as I gathered my wits with my arms bound to my thighs. I wanted desperately to put my fingers on the bridge of my nose and have a good cry of desperation.

I took myself all the way through the five stages of grief that I keep talking about. I told myself something like this in pretty much this order.

One: Denial — "I did not just shit and piss all over my kitchen table!”

Two: Anger — "Why is this happening to me? What did I do to deserve it? How could they have left me this way and not realize what was going to happen?”

Three: Bargaining — "I'll just put some of it in my mouth and dance around on the table, they can’t be mad if I filled my mouth with a little of it. They cannot be right?”

Four: Depression — "I'm never going to clean up this mess or live it down, they are going to punish me so severely I should just get off the table and wait for the inevitable beat down they are going to give me. There is no way I can fix this."

Five: Acceptance — Ah acceptance, I knew eventually I would meet you my old friend. The end state of every argument and every change in our lives has to be acceptance at some point. This is what happened and now it is time to accept it and move forward.

However, I had no internal monologue or thought process for acceptance. This muck just slid out of my ass and on the table and now I had to deal with it – what would I do?

What could I do?

I put my options on the table. I could;

A) Squat there like a ninny waving her hands in her front of her face and await and accept my inevitable severe punishment for not completing this punishment.

B) Flee to Mexico – okay that one was just sort of a funny one that I had to put in the list.

C) Take a big bite out of the mess that came out of my ass including the wad of bacon I saw and keep dancing and await my inevitable not as severe but severe punishment for leaving a mess on the table.

D) Try to clean up the mess.

Item D “you have my attention and now you have my curiosity” as Chris would say. There are a couple of ways I could go about D.

I could try to get off this table somehow and probably break the rope and the hooks from the wall or pull my tits off in trying. Then I could get to a washcloth and get this all cleaned up and even put a little bit in my mouth for a good show when they got up.

Jamie would have my head for even thinking of such a deceptive escapade because she is such a goody-goody that she has to follow rules. In all honesty, I can totally relate to that attitude and even though I am a little older and wiser I still feel guilty about when I’ve bent the rules or broken them. I even break them in my journal by saying pussy instead of cunt and I sometimes feel just a little guilty when I re-read what I wrote.

The only other way to clean up this mess short of a miracle would be to get down on my hands and knees on the table and suck it up – eat it.

Chris called me a urinal tonight – but am I a human vacuum cleaner and a toilet? A garbage disposal?

Could I do it without gagging?

Oh Acceptance – you are fifth on the list of emotions that one has to go through and while the others are short term pain and stress I have to say that you can be the worst one of all because you are the one that requires we make a decision and do something we may find really unpleasant to move on.

In Denial, Bargaining, Anger and Depression all one must do is emote and think about the problem. The step where you have to take some sort of action is the acceptance one and I could dance around it but one of the items on the list seemed like the only one that would please Bill and Chris enough that I may get out of this punishment without a follow up punishment for how bad I fucked up the current punishment I was doing.

I put my hands on the table and felt a squicky feeling as my palms held me above my own waste and pancakes.

I bent down to put my nose right up to some pancake and sniffed. I waited to recoil in horror as I expected a raw sewage smell to wash over me. It was really not that bad and so I licked it and then nibbled the dirty pancake bits.

I found myself chewing before I knew it.

It took a good long while before I swallowed. I remained on all fours trying to first cherry pick the large pieces of food that were stuck in the dirty brine of molasses like syrup and let’s face it – my own shit and piss. I could not tell in the darkness what was actually a turd and what was just a lump of pancake but a little light was starting to come through the kitchen window as the sun rose and I found myself eating faster.

It was actually easier not knowing what I was eating and so when I could feel the sun on my back I turned away from the window and faced my ass to the street. Then I kept my eyes shut tightly and began to slowly eat an inch or two of muck off the table at a time.

The guys had made us clean the floor with our tongues before and we did a fair job but that was just licking the pretty much clean tile. They made us do every square inch and by the end our tongues were tired, sore and dry.

This was far, far worse but I was powering through it.

When I finally opened my eyes I was still chewing on the awful disgusting sugary syrup and pancake mess and I had it all over my face. I was sad to see I had only eaten a tiny fraction of the mess on the table and I would probably have to spend the next four hours cleaning it if I were going to finish it.

I wondered for a few moments though if the guys would appreciate seeing how large my mess was before I began.

Then I realized I had no way to get to my cell phone from the kitchen table to take a picture of it. Even though I had managed to get to all fours I was already straining the cord tethering me in place and it was chafing as it tightened around my clit and through my legs every time I moved slightly. I felt like a marionette puppet whose strings allowed her just enough room to take a bow on stage. A puppet whose ass was spread and pointed at the audience. I tried not to think about the possibility that someone could see me. If coming of age movies have taught me anything it is that when a sexy older woman is naked in a window the young neighbor boy is always watching but he never acts upon what he sees.

I imagined some young Matthew Broderick type was watching from a nearby house with a confused look on his eager young face. Then I realized how old I am because Matthew Broderick is about forty years old now so that fictional peeping tom of mine would have no idea who he looks like.

I kept licking and powered through the disgusting sour taste of my own urine that coated some of the pancakes. I resisted the urge to stop and look behind myself out the window again. If there were any looky-loos standing right behind me it would be better that I didn’t know as I would not have been able to stop – not now. I had begun this process of cleaning the table by eating and licking it clean and I would finish it or be caught by one of the guys before I finished.

“Hey, watcha doin?” I froze as I heard Chris’s smirking voice from across the kitchen and the flick of the light switch.

I looked up at him like a cat with canary feathers in her mouth standing under the empty bird cage.

“I am not going to ask you a second time,” Chris folded his arms and stared at me.

“I am cleaning up my mess, Sir?” my tone suggesting I was asking him if that was what I was allowed to do.

Chris chuckled and stretched the morning yawn of someone who was completely at ease. “I realized I forgot to leave the kitchen light on and since we are defaulting on the power bill I realized it might help to give any passers by a thrill if they could actually see you – also donuts,” Chris passed to the fridge and took out several donuts and took a bite out of one. “Nom, nom, nom, these are good, want one?”

Chris didn’t allow me to finish and I was too stunned by his reaction to say anything immediately.

“I see you already have breakfast,” he winked and gave me a carry-on sort of expression as he sauntered back to bed.

I looked back down at my mess – it was much worse seeing it with the kitchen lights turned on.

Chris popped his head back in the kitchen door. “Oh I almost forgot, if I or Dad catch you kneeling or laying on the kitchen table like that again, even if you are cleaning up your mess, you are going to spend most of your day here and we will tighten the ropes on you. As I am in a forgiving mood though, turn to face me,” he said.

I did as I was told and faced him.

“Oops, I am sorry. I didn’t want to see your ugly face,” he took a bite out of one of his donuts in his hands. “Turn around and face that big, brown turd-hole towards me,” he directed me to spin around in a circle and I did as I was told as well – getting my hands and knees coated in goopy syrup as I did.

He put his finger into my asshole and wriggled it around. There was a pop as he pulled it out and licked it clean. “Delicious and empty,” he smirked. He began to stuff one of his donuts back into my asshole and I could tell he left a good portion of it out.

“If this isn’t here waiting for me when I get back up at 9 A.M.,” he clarified “9 A.Mish, then I will assume your fat ass ate it or dropped it and I will let Dad know that I caught you down here hiding on the table so people couldn’t see you. He probably won’t be pleased.”

Chris didn’t wait for my reaction he just turned and started to walk back to his bed.

He stopped once more before leaving the kitchen “Oh and Mom,” he smiled “I love you,” he laughed as he shut the door I could not tell if he meant it or was being sarcastic.

Once again I was alone with my mess but now I had more of it on my hands and knees and face and a donut sticking out of my ass. I was also facing the window and so I could not help but look out into the cool morning air.

It was light outside now but that sort of dusky gray fog had rolled in. If I lived on a busy New York street in a street facing apartment I would have been seen a hundred times by now. As it stood here in suburbia, the early morning jogger rush had subsided and now it was just the occasional Thursday morning dog walker.

I don’t want to paint a picture that hundreds of people walked past like when I was at the County Fair dancing with my daughter in body paint as Spongeboob. This was more an occasional trickle and the ones who seemed to notice me in the window either smiled and walked a little faster with a confused look on their face or stopped and stared for a moment and then walked on.

I expected someone to scream or at the very least come to the window and ask if I needed help but of the four or five people that went by I got off pretty lucky and they pretty much ignored me even though some stopped to stare for a few moments.

I spent the next hour thinking about how ‘lucky’ I was while I ate my own poopy-food and lapped it up with just my face. My tits had fallen into the muck on the table because of how difficult it was to hold myself up over the mess without use of my arms to balance. This only reminded me of how achy and sore they were because I was way past due for my milking. I thought of at least a dozen ways I was going to beg the guys to let me milk myself when I saw them next.

I also thought about a dozen other things while I was cleaning my mess from the table with my mouth. I thought about poor Jamie and wondered where she was. I thought about Mrs. Waxerman and what she thought about me in the window this morning – she probably assumed I was a depraved lunatic who loved to flash people. I thought about Sunday afternoons after this was all over and whether or not I’d save my dog collar and wear it when we get together for dinner when the kids have their own families – I pictured winking at them and not letting on to my grandkids why I’ve got it on.

I would like to say I thought about a lot of things but the one I kept pushing out of my mind was how uncomfortable and sick consuming my own mess was making me.

The other was the anticipation surrounding sex with Roscoe. I wondered if I needed to just skip past the doubts and get straight to the acceptance that this was going to happen. It seemed so over the top and so insane that it actually made being naked and tied up on my kitchen table while I lapped up my own waste seem pretty normal by comparison.

It was probably close to 8 a.m. when I heard a wrapping on the plate glass of the kitchen window behind me. I was running out of steam to gobble up all the disgusting goo and getting to the point I felt I wasn’t going to finish before the guys got downstairs.

A thousand people ran through my mind as to who it might be before I turned around. I wanted to finish this disgusting meal of shame in private and uninterrupted. I felt if I stood in the window I could at least prevent whoever it was from seeing what I was doing.

It was a neighbor I had met before a few times who lived near Mrs. Waxerman. He was a distinguished college professor type with a rustic quality to him like he had grown up on a farm like me. “Mr. Hooker?” I said through the glass window as I turned around to face him.

“It is Doctor actually,” he smiled as he corrected me politely. I had no problem hearing him through the thin plate glass window – and he had no problem seeing me through it either.

“I was just out for a morning stroll when I noticed you in the window and wondered if you needed any help?” he puffed on a pipe but no smoke came out. “This? I am trying to give up the habit but I can’t seem to keep the thing out of my mouth, phallic I suppose” he chuckled.

“I know this looks crazy sir,” I started to explain through the kitchen glass. I was bound up so that I could not move my arms but my breasts were hanging out and I could see him staring directly at them as I spoke.

“Not at all, your daughter mowed my grass recently and so I have some idea this is related to her own education?” he spoke to my breasts not my face. I could see now why he wasn’t shocked if he had met Jamie.

“Yes, it kind of is related to that, I do appreciate your understanding and apologize for the scene I am making in the window, Sir” I replied nervously. Given his eyes never left my tits I thought about making a goofy face just to see if he would notice but I decided better of it.

“It has been a week since I enjoyed her services mowing my lawn, is your daughter still in the lawn mowing business?” he asked politely and I had to almost chuckle about the thought of telling him the business we were now in.

“Actually we are moving out this weekend and our lawn mower is for sale, it starts at noon. Everything must go, Sir” I answered him truthfully.

“That is a pity. I will miss the two of you around the neighborhood. While I believe there are some interesting characters around Cherry Lawn Estates - I must say that you two I find the most interesting. Can I ask which window Jamie is in so that I might uh, say my goodbyes?”

“She isn’t here Sir,” I answered him truthfully noticing he was still watching the pendulous way that my tits swung under me. I didn’t want to tell him what she and I had been doing – I wanted to spare her just a little bit of humiliation – the doctor had such a kind face that I thought he would be disappointed to hear it anyway.

“Is my presence uncomfortable or keeping you from something my dear?” the doctor had a reassuring quality about him. He regarded me as if I were hanging clothes out on a line or doing the most normal of things but there was a quality about his smile that he knew it clearly was not normal and he liked it.

“No, not at all sir. I am supposed to be here in the window,” I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to respond and while I knew I was supposed to do ‘white alert’ I felt he would see right through any made up stories I told him – so I stuck with just the truth. I was nervous being naked in the window of course but I felt it was his right to stand there and look if I was going to stand there and show him.

“Can I ask why you are supposed to be there in the window?” he chuckled.

“You could but I am afraid you may not have enough time for the whole answer or believe it,” I smiled.

“Madame, I love stories. In fact, stories are sort of a passion of mine. I live next to Mrs. Waxerman and I see her regularly flog her kids in the backyard after giving them an enema. The Millers are swingers and the husband likes to watch his wife have sex with strange men. Don’t even get me started about the Griffins and that is just within a two block radius. You hardly have a monopoly on strange and unusual and given where you are kneeling and how you are presented I have every reason to consider the story you tell me is most likely true. I take it from the fact you are not screaming for help and were calmly licking the table when I walked up that this is a consensual arrangement and so I’ve no reason to be concerned do I?”

“You are right it is consensual sir. My husband and son are punishing me and I agreed to remain in the window until 9 a.m” I admitted.

“It hardly seems a punishment if you are able to kneel on the table so low to the ground. I almost did not see you there when I was walking past – not that I make it a point to stare into my neighbor’s kitchen windows mind you.” He said with a wise look on his face.

“I am actually supposed to be dancing in the window, Sir”. I admitted sheepishly.

“That would explain the throbbing bass music that seems so inappropriate at this ordinarily peaceful time of the morning. Don’t worry Mrs. Taylor your deception will remain safe with me. I won’t say a word to your husband and son about you lying down on the job so to speak,” he smiled sweetly.

“That is very kind of you,” I suddenly felt very guilty because the way that he phrased it made it sound like I was involving him in deception and trying to shirk my responsibility.

“I don’t suppose I could come in and continue this conversation? I assure you that your donut is safe and I won’t be asking for it,” he smirked about the donut that was clearly hanging out of my ass when he walked up.

“I would open the door for you but as you can see I am a bit tied up,” I gave him an equally wide smile in return. “My husband says that visitors are welcome after noon, you would be most welcome then.”

“Then I shall return to see your wares, milady. I bid you good day.” he doffed a finger over his brow like he was tipping an imaginary hat and walked on down the road humming an old tune to himself as he walked. He turned before he left and added some words of advice “If you are living and it does not scare you half to death, then you are not really alive.”

I watched him walk on and never look back at me again and grinned. That was a very surreal encounter and the fact that it seemed to be common knowledge that the Griffins, Millers and Waxermans were kind of freaky made the knowledge that the Taylor’s had been added to that list of neighborhood weirdoes all the more palatable.

I knew the Waxermans all too well and it was only a matter of time before my ‘pooper-snoopers’ showed up and began asking me where I’ve been and what I’ve been up too.

I knew the Millers pretty well too. Their daughter Hope had been to many of the sleep-overs my daughter had when they were in middle school and she was a cheerleader just like Jamie. I know they own a car dealership and I remember Hope’s father making quite a stir at the pool party last weekend but I was so busy being looked at and ridiculed that I didn’t have time to really process the entire thing.

It made it easier to accept this way of living to know that we weren’t the only ones. I spent five minutes licking the table clean just trying to define what I meant by ‘this way of living’ and if it was really a way of life or just an accident of circumstance.

I did have to wonder what he meant by the Griffins being freaky. I knew Cathy and her brothers were obviously some evil brats but did he mean her parents were as well? I hadn’t met them but knowing that her Grandfather is Mr. Bitterman does tell me where she inherited her alpha-personality and attitude.

I think sociopaths are probably good candidates to become CEOs because they have no moral code to get in the way of doing whatever it takes to get ahead. I began to wonder if Mr. Bitterman and Cathy had more going on than I realized and perhaps she had roped him into her little blackmail web of deception.

I thought how crazy it might be if Cathy had manipulated the old man and pulled all of his strings the way she did with her brothers. I put the paranoid conspiracy theories out of my mind for a while and focused on chewing up the last bits of dried molasses like syrup and food on the table before my husband and son woke up.

There was a kitchen clock ticking and I watched as it reached 9 A.M and I had not yet finished clearing the table of my mess. I don’t know why I expected them to show up right at 9 A.M, they were both heavy sleepers and let’s face it – kind of lazy. This hadn’t changed all that much except for Chris being up early to get his sister ready for school and show his responsibility.

He liked to joke “With great lack of responsibility, comes great laziness,” before all this began. He had really stepped up but I expected both of them to oversleep. I started to feel guilty and nervous that I would be caught if I wasn’t standing so I hurried to finish cleaning the table so I could stand up.

They didn’t disappoint – which bought me another fifteen minutes before they both entered the kitchen fresh from a morning shower.

“I should have made your mom wash us both,” Bill was still drying his hair as he talked to Chris about my fate today.

Chris was pleased to see that I had pretty much cleaned my mess off the entire table and I was proud too. I was standing up and dancing around on the kitchen table and had been for the last five minutes before they walked in and breathed a sigh of relief.

“What the fuck? How did she get a donut up her ass?” Bill seemed skeptical I had been a good girl after all.

“I woke up early and put that there,” Chris could have told him I stole a donut somehow or he didn’t know so he could watch me get punished but he was kind enough to tell the truth and I nodded a look of appreciation.

“Wow, how much do you have in your big mouth that you dropped on the table Cow Tits?” Bill sounded impressed.

I had finished cleaning the table but left nothing in my mouth! I instantly realized he would wonder where the bacon was. I opened my mouth to show him and said “Nothing sir,”

“So you didn’t drop anything on the table?” Bill asked me skeptically.

“I let her swallow when I came down to get some donuts this morning, Dad” Chris lied on my behalf. He didn’t really lie because he had let me swallow ALL of the contents on the table but he was covering for me and it made me feel a secret joy that he was on my side and at the same time nervous that I would be caught.

“Wow, that is cool,” Bill seemed none the wiser and my guilt factor grew for not telling the whole truth – I guess I am more like Jamie than I thought. “We need to get her down so she can take a much needed shit and piss then, I suppose she will want to milk those fat titties as well.” He looked me right in the eye.

“I already shit and pissed Master,” I admitted.

“Oh?” Bill looked at Chris as if to verify whether or not I had been allowed to do that as well.

“I shit and piss on the table this morning Sir, that is what Master Chris let me swallow,” I admitted on behalf of Chris. The sound of those words escaping my lips was surreal but the guys acted like it was totally expected and I suppose it was now for the girls of the house.

“Oh? Cool,” Bill didn’t even realize that inside a thousand warning sirens were blazing that I probably should not have told him I ate my own crap with piss on it because now he would make me do it all the time. “Here turn around so your ass faces me,” Bill pulled my ass cheeks apart licked his finger and plooped it in and wriggled it around while driving the half-donut slightly further up my butt.

He pulled it out and sniffed it. “I thought you told us you really had to shit last night? It must have just been a little bit, there is nothing in there” He held his finger up for me to clean and I bent down at the knee with the slack from the rope and licked his finger clean without saying a word.

“You dirty little pig, your asshole is entirely empty. You told me you had to take a giant dump and it was a false alarm, eh? You can make us breakfast then shave and milk yourself on the kitchen floor. If there is food left over and you want to beg, you will get to eat it after you plug your ass with it, sound like a plan?” he sounded invigorated by his sleep.

“Yes Master, it does,” I smiled wistfully – I was trying to keep myself awake as I had not slept.

“The little piggy is tired, aww isn’t that cute? You better get yourself in motion. I might let you do a half cup of coffee, half cup of breast milk if you make some decent eggs this morning.”

I did exactly as I was told and cooked the guys up some breakfast in the nude and served it to them at the kitchen table. Bill looked out the window and scoffed “Hardly a punishment, no one ever walks down the street on Thursday morning,” as he sipped his OJ and ate his food.

“There were some joggers, Mrs. Waxerman and Doctor Hooker this morning Sir,” I informed him.

“No police came to tell you to put your clothes back on, huh? I guess you were disappointed about that.” Bill sounded kind of jealous when he made that comment as he sipped his juice but he didn’t continue the point and I did not answer him.

“Go get your shaving cream and mirror, a razor and hot water and sit down and shave that twat, ass and under your arms piggy. I want you to look good today and smooth as Chris’s ass,” Bill said to me while untying my arms from my waist and unsecuring me from the loose cords that bound me to the table..

“Hey! You been looking at my ass?” Chris teased his father and they talked a little while I completed my morning ritual of shaving while they watched me in the living room.

“Do you ever think she gets wet when she diddles herself like that?” Chris asked his father while they watched me shave my pussy. I had to hold myself open in order to get the stubble along the edges of my lips and yes I did get wet.

“Cow Tits, you getting off on this treatment?” Bill asked me appraisingly.

“Am I under extreme white alert or honestly, Sir?” I asked him to clarify whether I had to embellish and pretend to be some sort of wanton slut or if I could just be honest.

“As much as I like you to play the sexually addicted cougar who needs discipline and begs for it - I would say to be honest around us,” Bill answered. I could tell he might have preferred the extreme white alert answer and I decided to give him a little bit of both.

“Honestly, my cunt does get wet when I shave myself or when Ass Face does, especially when you watch me do it Sir. It is very humiliating and the tile is cold and gives me goosebumps. The boners in your pajamas tell me I will get fucked today and drink your cum and my brain is letting my cunt know to get juicy.” That was a much more provocative answer than Bill expected and I could see him adjust his dick and hide his smile.

“Very good, the little bitch may be worth keeping after all,” he laughed in the direction of Chris.

“I need a morning piss, should I take her to the bathroom or can I do it right here?” Chris asked his dad.

“I don’t know, can you?” Bill teased back with a smirk.

“Fine, bitch get over here you can finish shaving in a few minutes, open that mouth and if you spill a drop you’ll be licking it off the floor,” I was going to be used as a urinal and Chris was my first for the day.

I smiled at him and shuffled over on my knees without getting off the floor so I could remain kneeling. As soon as I got in front of them I sat back on my heels and opened my mouth.

“What is a Taylor woman good for?” Chris asked me.

“Well our mouths are only good for two things, sucking and swalrrrgghhgh” I had almost finished saying swallowing when his acrid yellow stream shot right down my throat and some of it rolled down my chin on to my tits.

“You need better accuracy, Cow Tits” Chris blamed me as he shot his morning piss into my open mouth. He seemed delighted to spray me in the face with urine and not the least bit guilty as he unloaded his morning piss.

“Great, now I have to go, can you hurry up?” Bill chided his son. “Jesus, you are going to have to tie that thing in a knot you are pissing so long.”

“Mom has a big mouth, get over here and just piss in it at the same time,” Chris suggested and while I watched, my husband took his cock out and stood up, leveled his dick at my mouth and shot his morning piss into it alongside his son.

I tried swallowing as fast as I could so that I did not drown or gag. I didn’t wait for my mouth to fill up – that ended up making me cough and sputter. Instead, I tried to relax my throat like when giving a big blowjob and let it slide down while continuously swallowing.

“Pissed on, pissed in but never pissed off, right sweetheart?” Bill asked me and I tried to nod in agreement while letting the two of them finish using my mouth – which resulted in more of it spilling down my chest. “Don’t worry you will get a chance to let that dry.” He added.

When they finished I thanked them both for the morning piss by kissing both of their dicks without being told.

“Wow, someone is a brown noser,” Chris laughed.

“You’ve made me one literally Master, may I kiss your asses this morning?” I reminded them of his father’s new rule about three times a day. My breasts were about to burst but they had become so swollen I was used to the full feeling and was able to handle it a little longer.

“No, I want to see you piss in this doggy dish and make some coffee with it. Then you will milk those titties into it and you can kiss our asses after I take a shit.” Bill instructed and looked for his newspaper. “Newspaper out on the lawn? I’d offer you a star or whatever the fuck to get it like you are, but we aren’t keeping score like that anymore.”

“Can I run to get your newspaper Master?” I am ever the detail person. I wanted to make sure there were no strange stipulations after I agreed. He nodded I could and I asked “You guys won’t lock the door will you?” as I looked out the kitchen window to see if anyone was out there- there wasn’t.

I went through the front door in the living room and ran to the end of our drive way to grab our newspaper. I am sure the guys were watching from the kitchen window as my tits bounced and shook while I tried to hurry.

“Oh still playing slave I see?” Van Pewterschmidt, my handsome neighbor who bears a slight resemblance to Kevin Costner, was polishing his red sports car in the driveway next to ours.

I picked up the newspaper and spun on my bare foot to see him in shock. He had sex with me a week ago and I knew he wasn’t totally surprised by me being out there naked but the thought ran through my mind of abject terror being discovered in public naked with a dog collar on.

“Yes Sir, I am still a slave to my husband and son, how are you doing?” I held the newspaper up across my chest slightly covering my nipples. I knew it did not do a lot of good strategically but it was a natural reaction to his stare.

“I am just peachy,” he had a swagger of confidence that my husband had developed in the last week but there was something about Van’s confidence that could rub me the wrong way. “I am supposed to be coming over today to have a look at your furniture and stuff, your husband said he will make me a deal on some fishing rods he has. I guess I will see you then?” he chuckled.

“Yes, I think you will see ALL of me, Sir” I motioned to my body “Excuse me please,” I hustled back inside. I had been lucky we live on a slow street and it was Thursday morning after the commuters and school kids have all left.

I delivered the newspaper to my husband in my mouth on my knees like a doggy and wagged my ass like a tail.

“Oh very good, Roscoe is going to love you,” I had forgotten until Bill mentioned it – or at least pushed it out of my mind that I would be having sex with Roscoe today.

“Pardon me for suggesting but you asked me to remind you when there may be a problem,” I got my husband’s attention. “You know Ass face is suspended from school but should we un-enroll Chris so his grades do not reflect absences wherever he transfers?”

“No worries, Me and Dragovich are best of buds now. He says he will take care of my absences until we figure out where we are gonna go,” Chris informed me of the Principal’s decision. I knew in part that it was because of the sex we had the night before.

“Well don’t just stand there, go get a metal bowl and piss in it, then pour it into the coffee maker and make yourself a cup of delicious lemon coffee,” Bill looked over at his paper to instruct me what to do next.

“Yes Master, thank you for allowing me to piss in the kitchen.”

“You have two minutes,” Bill didn’t look up from his paper. “I see Pewterschmidt was talking to you. Did he try to lay down the moves on you?”

I was already squatting and peeing a stream into the stainless bowl when I answered as if it were perfectly normal morning banter between husband and wife. “No master, he just asked me how I was and said he was coming over later today to buy your fishing rods.”

“That fucker has no appreciation for quality. They aren’t just fishing rods. They are 7’4” Dobyn’s Champion Extreme Series Fishing Rods with Heavy Jigs, Carolina Rigs, and a Full Handle.” Bill lamented.

“I did not know you were such an expert on fishing, Dad” Chris watched me piss while talking casually to his dad.

“There are a lot of things you would know if we had ever taken the fishing trip,” I heard some remorse in Bill’s voice before he instructed me that my time was up and I needed to fill the coffee pot. I did as I was told and then dragged out the goat milker from the closet.

This was designed for four nipples but you can turn off the suction to the ones you are not using. I got on all fours and attached the pump to mine before turning it on and waiting.

“It’s more fun to watch them just play with and tug at their nipples,” Chris smiled at his dad.

“Yeah, but this thing is very thorough, you see all that milk coming out of your mom?” Bill showed him a line of my milk rolling into a bag.

“Jesus Christ, it almost seems like she is pissing a stream of milk out of both tits simultaneously,” Chris commented. I was pretty shocked that I had that much extra water to turn into milk in the first place.

“Women truly are turd, piss and milk machines aren’t they?” Bill laughed.

“Snot and pussy juice too,” Chris added two more qualifiers to the list of accomplishments of the fairer sex as he and his dad saw it.

When they allowed me to turn it off there must have been a third of a gallon of milk in the basin – the most I have ever done, and I felt completely drained – my tits were very sore and very, very sensitive. “Drag your tits across the tile and eat these pills,” Bill held out my birth control pills and the ‘vitamins’ they had been giving us to make our nails, hair and breasts grow – and to induce lactation.

I did as I was told and thanked him for the pills.

“Should we have her fuck Roscoe now?” Chris was excited to make me get on with the promised bestiality.

“I dunno, let’s ask the slut,” Bill answered. “Slut, would you like to do your kegal exercises, squat thrusts and jogging in place, get your enema and all your morning rituals and training done or go fuck Roscoe while we watch?”

I swallowed at how casually my husband considered the choices he offered me as if he was asking if I wanted to eat at Sizzler or Ponderosa for lunch. Had I sunk this low in his esteem and did I really agree to a full week after this one?

I knew Chris had been testing me to see if I would pick the right choice but I think Bill was just asking because he wanted to know the answer. Bill is much simpler and straightforward about things like that.

I also saw the look in their face that they wanted to get a rise out of me. Bill normally played the strong silent type who stayed serious but there was a curl to the sides of his lip that told me he was having fun playing with me this way.

“If you would prefer I tighten my pussy muscles and work off some of the fat on my ass after getting the shit pumped out of it first before I fuck the family pet of six years I defer to you as the man of the house,” I said in as even and casual a tone as I could manage as If I told him either Ponderosa or Sizzler would do just fine for lunch and it made no never mind to me.

“A little passive aggressive are we?” Bill seemed amused. I could see how he thought maybe I was trying to hint that I thought the family pet shouldn’t be involved in our discipline routines and he was probably right – I had made that comment without thinking about it and it revealed my fears. “You are right though, you should spend a little time working off that fat and tightening up that tight pussy – come here” he motioned with his finger for me to walk towards him.

I crawled over to him. He forced me to my feet by pulling me up by grabbing my tits –all he had to do was order me to stand and I would have done so gladly but I had agreed to rough handling and I knew that was part of the deal.

“Take that sour bitch-titty milk and pour it into your enema bottle and the rest in the coffee pot,” he instructed and slapped me on the ass as he turned me around to face my milk. “Good girl, bending at the waist with legs parted like the slut we are training you to be” he observed that I had not broken the protocol they had been drilling in my head – I have to admit I was secretly proud he noticed little things like that.

When I was just his wife and mother of his two kids he had stopped noticing the cleaning and things I did around the house or saying anything about them years ago. Now at least he noticed that I made an effort to show my ass and full pussy lips to him when bending over – small victories I suppose.

I wondered if he would notice the things I did around the house when he returns me to the station of mother and wife or if in his estimation I will have to continue to bend at the waist to get his notice and praise while I poured my breast milk into an enema bottled destined to go back into my ass.

My husband surprised me by coming behind me and taking the bottle from my hand and shoving it into my mouth. “Don’t drink it all you greedy cunt,” he slapped cuffs on my wrists behind my back and marched me to the backyard with his hand in my back telling me “Hup two-three-four-tits further-out-hup too” as he high stepped me passed the sliding glass doors into the patio of our backyard.

We had not had a family barbecue since the kids were in elementary school and I personally hadn’t been in the backyard except to feed and water Roscoe before leaving for work in years. I had spent much more time back here in the last few weeks of discipline in the warm sun getting tanned in the nude than I ever spent when I was a free woman.

I still couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming amount of loss at the realization this yard would soon belong to the bank and I would never see it again.

The sun had already risen and drove off the morning fog and it was warming up and starting to look like a very normal and temperate day in the suburban landscape of Cherry Lawn Estates – one where most people were going about their day watering their lawns and riding their bikes.

I of course was not one of those people. I was being manhandled by my husband outside in the yard, naked with my hands cuffed behind my back and my own breast milk in an enema bottle destined for my ass.

“You can get down on your hands and knees and kiss Roscoe before you get your enema,” my husband took the bottle out of my mouth and said the words as if he was offering me some kind of treat.

I didn’t dare look at Bill as he would assume I was trying to give him a chance to reconsider what he wanted me to do – even though my natural instinct was to be that passive aggressive with him. I went to my knees with my hands behind my back and leaned over and Roscoe, still on his chain ever-delighted for attention, obliged by giving me doggy kisses all over my face.

“Let’s see a little tongue there Cow-tits, that isn’t how you normally kiss strange men.” He sounded just a little bit angry and jealous but I let it pass- thinking to myself that reminding him a dog is not a man would probably get me a lesson in discipline as payback for saying it. Instead, I let my tongue hang out of my mouth and Roscoe obliged by kissing me on it and lapping all over the inside of my mouth.

I don’t know what they feed the dog that gives his breath a fish smell but it was like warm garbage. I have had to eat his dog food before and I wondered if my breath was that stinky – I knew Jamie’s wasn’t and she had to as well.

He inserted the fleet enema nozzle roughly up my asshole while I was bent over kissing the dog and said “That is enough you dirty dog slut,” as if I had wanted to continue with the disgusting act. I felt the urge to cry at the knowledge it was going to happen today and that my daughter had already done it – there was no going back from that. Once you have fucked a dog is there nothing you would not do?

He led me crawling on the cement of our patio away from Roscoe by my hair. Bill had me rest the side of my face flat against the cement and push my nipples against the scratchy, warm surface while keeping my ass up and parted. He kicked my legs further apart and said “Don’t drop this bottle while I am gone, I’ll be back soon with Roscoe’s food since you are too lazy to feed and water him now”. I could almost sense he was trying to make a teasing joke the way Chris often did but it sounded more like he was serious the way it came out.

“I am not going anywhere Master, I’ll be here when you get back,” I found myself saying as I heard my husband open the sliding glass door to walk back into the comfort of the house. “Oh and Sir?” I asked.

“Yes Cow tits?” he sighed as if he was tired of answering questions before my first one.

“Thank you Master,” is all I said.