The Family Feud IV

Chapter Forty Four
Chris’s Journal: If I were to give up sarcasm that would leave interpretive dance as my only form of communication

**Note to reader: This is an excerpt of Chris’s journal from Thursday morning from his perspective. The events take place after 9am while just as his mother is led outside for her enema. 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

When I was a baby I could close the world up in fleshy pink mitts

Now the world flays the infant palms and the bones drip out in its spit

When I was small I reached up so high and grasped at the morning star

Now the wormwood topples down on me and smashes all my parts

When I was a child my bones spread out like peacock feathers alive

Now the feathers wilt like cancerous boils leaving sagging pores in my hide

When I was of age I saw a gate so wide and a path so broad for the taking

But the road to everything led to a cliff where I sprawled out naked and aching

I had that song stuck in my head. I can’t explain why.

I guess you could say that I had so much on my mind that my mind was trying to distract me from thinking about it all.

A few months ago my life was fairly simple. I went to school and was a nobody that no one really paid any attention too. I came home and played World of Warcraft and then masturbated to Olivia Munn on Attack of the Show. I did not have many friends but I knew who they were.

More importantly no one expected much from me. If anyone noticed me they assumed I was stupid and had nothing important to say and it was nice not to have any responsibility.

Now I feel the weight of everything that my parents are dealing with and it feels like because Mom has become our slave that some of that weight has to rest with me instead. We are losing our house and we are going to have to move – no one knows where this crazy rollercoaster of a life we are living is headed and I can tell the stress is getting to Dad and rolling downhill on the rest of us.

In the last day I’ve fucked my sister and my mom, I’ve pissed down their throats, I’ve tied them up, I’ve done some horribly sadistic things and they asked me to do them - They expected me to do them. We’ve reached a point now where what is taboo to most people seems like our normal.

I tied my mom up in the kitchen with the curtains open and she didn’t scream and say how rotten that was. She just accepted that it was a reasonable punishment and not only that – she accepted that her son had the right to punish his own mother.

Mom got down on the table and gobbled up the bacon I made her shove up her own ass. She had a disgusted but determined look on her face when she didn’t know I was watching. I saw the look of fear on her face when I caught her doing it and I will admit I felt sorry for her at first. I could tell she thought I might punish her a little further when I flicked on the light and saw her freeze in place.

I cannot say I feel guilty for punishing my mom – I quite enjoyed it. The thing is I don’t think my enjoyment comes from a cruel place. I punish her because she seems to need it now. I can’t quite figure out why but I feel like we’ve exchanged roles and now it is up to me to keep the womenfolk of the house in line and out earning for the family.

It is wise to let her feel terror that I might punish her and I can tell my mom is one of those people who will wonder why I did that and assign some meaning to it. She will wonder if it was a random act of kindness and beat herself up over why I did it. The fact is I love my mom and I thought she was being well behaved – every now and then I have to throw her a bone.

If it was just twisted and brutal with her all the time and this cruelty came from the dark places in my fantasies then the entire context of this exercise would have taken a different turn. I certainly think the girls would not have volunteered to continue if we had just been total bastards the entire time.

I will admit though – I’ve been a cruel bastard SOME of the time and laughed right in their faces as I twisted their titties and played with their pussies and it has been fun.

I keep wondering if anyone else in the family has thought about how things will be when this is all over.

I mean we are all growing more comfortable in our roles as Masters and slaves to one another but at some point when the girls no longer are whoring and we’ve found a place to live then what?

I enjoy the delicious sweet smell of my mother’s pussy juice so much that I finger her every chance I get to inspect that pussy – the one that gave birth to me. She is unaware that I smell my fingers when she isn’t around and crave it – what will happen when I can’t just stick a finger up her twat? Will I miss the smell of her body?

The sweet, salty taste of her skin and her juices dried on my fingers – a flavor saver.

Can I look my sister in the eye and not remember how vulnerable she looked when I took her ass? How sexy she was? She is so feminine in all aspects – there is this aura around her that makes my testosterone shoot through the roof.

Will we laugh about the time I tied her to a wall and left her naked outside all day or will she hold it against me and always remember me as a cruel pervert and drive a wedge between us? We were never that close before this all began but now things have really changed and I wonder if going back to the way it was – is even possible?

I was trying not to think too deeply about all of this and humming along to a Babyhead song in my mind as I went to go check on my mother.

I had Roscoe’s dog food and I was even going to let my mother have a little if she begged for it without shoving it up her ass first. My mom was outside on the ground kneeling with her ass up in the air and her face on the patio and her enema bottle wiggling obscenely out of her ass cheeks like a plastic tail. I stopped before opening the sliding glass door and watched as the Waxerman boys emerged from over the fence and approached her.

I had to smile at how bold they had become. They used to just stare all day from the other side of the fence.

I heard them say “Hello Mrs. Taylor”.

“Hello boys,” My mom sighed as if she wasn’t that surprised they had shown up when they did. She didn’t move to cover herself – she remained cuffed with her hands behind her back. They had seen her naked often enough that there was no point.

“We have missed you and your daughter,” one of the boys tells her and they ask where she has been.

“I am sorry Pooper Snoopers,” my mom came up with that nickname for them for some reason. I think it is because they are always snooping around – mostly where the girls are pooping but that is a wild guess. It could just be it rhymes. “We’ve been out trying to make money,” I had to smile at the awkward way my mom chose her words carefully. I considered walking out there and making her tell them exactly what she was and what she had been doing but I decided to let her dangle a little longer and listen.

“How?” one of them asked curiously. I think it is interesting how very naïve and innocent these boys can seem – like they stepped out of a black and white TV show from the 1950s about Mayberry but that they could stand behind my mom while she took an enema and that wasn’t their first question to her.

Then again as Mrs. Waxerman’s nephews I am sure they are no strangers to an enema themselves.

They thanked my mom. I am sure they thanked her for the many wet dreams and pre-teen boners that she had provided them, but it sounded like they were happy about some recent change in the household -I guessed their aunt, Mrs. Waxerman might be relaxing her harsh ways.

It was delicious to hear my mom answer their questions awkwardly as if she were freshly humiliated each time she had to admit something like “My husband felt I should get my enema outside this morning,” or that it was filled with her breast milk while they giggled and made her uncomfortable with their presence.

I wanted to listen more but I felt mom had been taking the enema long enough – I needed to step outside and intervene. I would let the boys watch of course if they wanted as I let her drain the enema.

A tapping on my shoulder interrupted my thoughts and I turned around to see Delilah Waxerman standing in front of me.

She is the sexy country girl who had shown an interest in me at the community pool party and older sister to the boys currently molesting my mom. I had assumed she was just flirting with me at first because she may have wanted some dirt on my sister or something but it became obvious to me that she really did like me for some reason.

She has sexy blue eyes and long dark raven colored hair with a cute upturned nose and freckles – the quintessential country girl that central casting in Hollywood would pick to play in a made for Lifetime television movie. I would never have even talked to a girl this hot before I started dominating my sister and mother but I think she was attracted to the swagger and confidence that seemed to be blossoming in me.

I guess when you know you can get laid if you want too – that is when other girls can smell that on you and want some of it too.

I assumed at first she was there to torment my mom as well but I noticed that there was something very different about her.

She had on a black choker around her neck and she wore a very short denim skirt and a red polka-dot half top tied around her chest that did nothing to hide the fact her nipples were fully erect. Her tits reminded me of Georgia peaches and the shirt only served to draw my eyes to her chest.

If she wanted my attention –she certainly had it.

She could sound like a tomboy redneck when she wanted to but this time she said in that sexy sweet southern accent “Hello Sir”.

I grinned at her and saw Mrs. Waxerman in the living room talking to my father. I am sure she was giving him a piece of her mind about something or other that she felt we were doing wrong.

“Hello Sir, huh?” I laughed because I assumed it must be a joke and she was making fun of how we run things with the girls.

She must have read my mind because she said “It is not a joke Sir, my Aunt has made a few changes around the house and I will have to show respect to you as a man of the Taylor household.”

I still thought she might be putting me on. “You have my curiosity,” I bid her to continue with her story.

She explained that after her bet with Cathy Griffin she ended up on her shit list of rivals. “She was on mine too but I had no idea how ruthless the little piece of tail could be,” she explained in a hushed whisper while her Aunt talked to my father. I could see her looking over frequently to keep a close eye on Delilah.

Cathy dug up some dirt on Delilah but she never explained exactly what it was. Cathy went to Mrs.Waxerman and pretended to be concerned about Delilah’s immortal soul and used our family as an example of sluts gone wild who needed extreme control.

“This was payback for whooping her ass in front of her grandfather I am sure,” she whispered. “My Aunt is very strict as you know and you know how if you get caught smoking some parents make you smoke a whole carton to make you lose your taste for it?”

“Salome Waxerman?” Victoria called to her niece from across the room but had given her a new name.

“That is my new name, just play along shug” Delilah whispered to me and winked. “Yes Ma’am?” she turned to answer her Aunt in a much sweeter and formal voice than I have heard.

“Come show Mr. Taylor what you are learning,” Mrs. Waxerman said sternly and added “And be thankful for the example he set with his own wayward wife and daughter that I was able to learn from his wisdom.”

That was high praise coming from the old dingbat.

“Yes Ma’am, but do I have to take off all of my clothes?” she was already removing her top and revealing her perfectly juicy and ripe, freckled teenage tits.

“Did you have ANY problem getting naked over here the other day when you were mud wrestling in the most sinful of ways?” Mrs. Waxerman answered her sternly.

Delilah looked over her shoulder at me as she undressed and winked with a smile to let me know that she wasn’t nearly as worried about it as she sounded when she begged not to strip.

“Yes Ma’am,” Delilah stepped out of the skirt revealing a cleanly shaven, but sore and puffy mound that reminded me of Jamie’s tight little beaver. Her ass had WH and RE on each cheek.

“Tell Mr. Taylor what that says on your posterior and why it is on there,” Mrs. Waxerman ordered.

“Oh this written on my little old butt, Ma’am?” Delilah reverted back to her countrified southern accent playfully. “It says WHERE I believe.” She turned around and mooned my father so he could see it.

“It mostly certainly does not, you know what it says!” Mrs.Waxerman sounded deeply embarrassed that her niece was not taking this seriously.

“Would you read it then? If that is not an E then what is it?” Delilah played dumb and pulled her cheeks apart for my father to take a good long look. Dad said nothing – he wasn’t going to let the girl tease him and manipulate him into playing her game. I could see the start of a boner in his trousers. A few weeks ago Dad might have been floored by what she was doing but after Jamie and Mom he stood there unmoved – with the exception of a quiet erection growing in his jeans.

“Mr. Taylor does not have time for your nasty shenanigans and open displays of wanton lust,” Mrs. Waxerman chided her niece but was interrupted by the sound of our sliding glass doors opening.

“Oh Gawd it’s you three,” their sister answered their excited cries of her new name ‘Salome’ with her derision. “Why don’t you three go play outside in traffic while the grown-ups talk?” she could be mean but she used to have a subtlety about it. Now it shocked me given the vulnerable way she was the only one naked in the room she dared to talk to her brothers this way.

“Ma’am, Salome’ is being rude to us!” the boys cried out for the kind of justice a kid cries out for when their sister is poking them in the back of the car on a long trip, not when she is naked and spreading her cheeks in front of them.

“Salome, recite 1 Corinthians 2:12!” Mrs. Waxerman instructed “In the position!”

“Not the position in front of the brats, Ma’am?” Salome’ removed her hands from her ass-cheeks and sounded instantly reluctant, like someone afraid to go on a rollercoaster but only slightly. I didn’t think she was all that terrified – although she is a tough girl to read.

“Do you want me to take the ruler out and deliver unto you the attitude adjustment that you seem to be begging for right here and now in front of the Taylor’s and your brothers, Salome’?” Mrs. Waxerman was flabbergasted at her niece’s defiance given the upper hand she clearly had over her.

“I really wish you would, Ma’am,” Salome answered as she got into what was obviously the ‘position’. “I really do need another twenty or so attitude adjustments to start my day just right, you seem to love giving them, you dirty old duck!” As defiant as Salome’s words were she complied with her Aunt’s wishes. Salome’ was definitely not terrified, in fact she seemed to be daring her Aunt – white alert taken to a whole new level.

The position was hard and it was more vulgar than how Delilah, who now had to answer to the name ‘Salome’ had been standing. Mrs. Waxerman’s tone had implied she wanted Delilah to be less obscene but the position clearly did not allow for it.

Salome put both palms flat on our carpet and lowered her nose to touch the carpet while keeping her legs wide apart and her knees only slightly bent. The execution was as flawless as a gymnast and the bent over “V” position of her legs had the side effect of highlighting the girl’s chiseled abdomen as her tummy strained with the rest of her body to hold the position.

“One Corinthians Two-Twelve Ma’am,” she sighed while her brother’s gleefully stood behind her to listen to her recitation of scripture that she had obviously had to memorize. “I suffer not a woman to teach a man, she shall remain silent, Ma’am.”

“Yet you run your mouth and disrespect the males of both the Taylor family and this one at every chance you get!” Mrs. Waxerman continued over the snickering of Salome’s younger brothers. “You will give thanks to Mr. Taylor for teaching me that I had spared the rod and spoiled the prodigal niece for too long and that you will learn to accept this discipline”

“For how long I gotta follow these new rules, Auntie?” Delilah sounded impatient and despite the difficulty of holding the position she did so quite well.

“You will refer to me as Ma’am from now on and all men as Sir,” she removed a ruler from her purse like a gunfighter drawing a six-shooter and smacked her niece’s ass. We heard a loud pop and chuckles from the boys as Delilah seethed and drew air out of her mouth.

“You should remain this way for as long as you are in my charge and then god-willing unless it is too late to teach you properly, and you turn out unrepentant like Wendy Taylor then whoever would have you as their wife shall keep you in biblical discipline as a wife should be!”

“That is not fair, Ezekial, Jimmy and Gordon are laughing and looking at my asshole, Ma’am. They are getting perverted notions about me!” Her protest almost sounded genuine but there was clearly something off about it.

“It is their fault that they should be around a sister so wicked and wanton as you that she leads them into temptation?” Mrs. Waxerman quickly countered with a point that sounded like she may have made earlier.

“No ma’am, it’s my fault for tempting them,” Salome’ sounded like she accepted that logic. “It’s just that it is embarrassing for them to be in here when you told me we were coming to show Mr. Taylor and his wonderful son not to give up hope on the wicked women of their own house by the example you set with me?” she made a counterpoint.

“Your brothers were not invited and I shall deal with them and their reason for coming when we get home!” Mrs. Waxerman’s glare gave the boys giggles a long pause. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“We was coming to tell Mr. Taylor that his wife’s enema bottle has popped out,” Jimmy Waxerman answered defensively. “We did not know you was gonna be in here with Salome’”

“Naturally you did not know because my movements are not of your concern and you would have hid yourself so that you not get punished for being where you should not ought to be wouldn’t you?” Mrs. Waxerman shook a finger out at the oldest of the boys that seemed to always be pointing out some flaw in others.

I thought about interrupting and pointing out the scripture she had just had Salome’ recite could apply to her as well but then I did not want to make the old hypocrite think she had to get down in V position –nobody wants to see that.

When her nephew nodded his head in agreement and seemed apologetic she said “Well you know what you did wrong and boys will be boys,” Mrs. Waxerman used to play favorites and Delilah had been the one she doted on. It was clear now that things had reversed course as she changed the girls name to Salome’ and her behavior along with it. “You can ask Mr. Taylor if you can remain while Salome’ recites the bible verses that are applicable but if it were my house I would have you outside where boys like you belong!”

“Mr. Taylor we sure could use a bible lesson from our sister, may we stay?” the smiles from the boys implied they enjoyed seeing their sister humbled beyond the containment of mere words.

“Actually, I have to say something here,” Dad finally spoke and he sounded very serious. “I did not intend for you to take the things we have done around you to heart. I don’t want a teenage girl to have to suffer because of what you think we are doing.” Dad sounded emphatically sincere.

What was he doing? He loved it when my mom and sister did it and now he seemed to grow a conscience about another young girl doing it? Granted, Mrs. Waxerman was probably a much bigger stickler than even we were and she had basically said Salome’ was going to have to live this way for the rest of her natural life if it were up to Mrs. Waxerman.

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Waxerman answered dismissively. “You are a good hard working biblical man, and you had no choice with the uncontrollable sluts in your own household but to lay down some ground rules. Even as we speak your wife is outside accepting an enema under god’s sunshine and not complaining or running off for some career to leave you to care for your son!”

I looked outside the glass window to where Mom was. She was licking the cement like a good little slut and she looked up and saw me with terror in her face. I wagged a finger at her and pointed to the fallen enema bottle. I mouthed the words “Get that back up your ass right now!” and then smirked and turned back to watch what was happening in the living room. I would let mom puzzle about how to tip the enema bottle back up with her hands cuffed behind her and sit on it.

I walked over to the living room away from the den where the sliding glass door is. Salome’ had begun wiggling her ass slightly in a provocative way despite the fact her brothers were watching intently. It was clear to me that her facial expression begrudged them a look and promised them retribution for their giggles but her body language invited them to stare.

My father was in the process of explaining that he thought Mrs. Waxerman had gone too far. He did not want his actions and decisions to sentence this girl,even if she seemed to need some tough love, to the kind of discipline she had since his wife and daughter endure. He was doing his best not to admit it had all started as a joke to see if we could shock her but it seemed he was about too.

Mrs. Waxerman just nodded her head and said that he was too modest and she had seen the change in his wife and daughter and how they had a long way to go to improve but that this was the only solution for the ways of wicked sluts like the ones they were dealing with.

Delilah interrupted the two of them – a move that if she truly feared that ruler she would not have done. “It is okay Mister Taylor, I do appreciate your concern for my vanity and pride but I am a good Christian girl and I’ve studied the bible. I do not want to ALERT you, but my lily-WHITE ass can stand some education at the hands of my Aunt.”

My father can be dense at times but she had hit him over the head with a mallet to hint she was under white alert and he nodded with a confused expression.

“May I tell the story of Salome’ so that Mister Taylor understands why you have chosen that name for me Ma’am?”

“How dare you child! He is a biblical man, I am sure he knows it as well as you if not more so!” Mrs. Waxerman smacked her ass with a ruler for daring to offer.

“I think she is just being sarcastic,” I teased because now I knew that Delilah had some little game she was playing and I would play along too. “If Delilah was forbidden sarcasm,” I corrected myself “If Salome’ was forbidden to use sarcasm then that would only leave interpretive dance to get her message across.” I joked.

“Actually, interpretive dance – you have no idea how right you are,” Mrs. Waxerman regarded me like I was a really smart idiot as she nodded her head approvingly in the way you would if a child amazed you doing something fairly simple.

“Actually, good Christian that I am,” My Dad isn’t the best liar and even I could see him smile when he said that. “I would like to hear her recite the story as an affirmation to reinforce what she is learning, to see if she understands it.”

“Very well, that seems reasonable.” Mrs. Waxerman could see no fault in that logic and conceded.

“I would like to make a request though, but it may seem a bit far out, if you will permit?” My dad smiled and Mrs. Waxerman nodded. “I believe the girl has a problem with frequent masturbation, doesn’t she?”

Mrs. Waxerman made an exasperated sigh as if that was a slight on her but Salome conceded the point “I admit I do, Sir”

“Then I would like her to tell the story using one hand for support while masturbating herself with the other in front of us to shame her into being reluctant to pleasure herself through carnal means” Dad had heard enough of Mrs. Waxerman’s bible double-speak to put together a well-reasoned argument. “Naturally, you could make her brothers move from out behind her that they do not get to see such a disgusting display”.

I quickly added “Yes, we made my sister masturbate furiously for 24 hours a day in order to break her of it. Now we rarely catch her playing with herself. It is like when you catch someone smoking and you make them smoke a carton to break themselves of it.”

“No!” Salome’ pleaded with a hint of fake tears in her voice. “Don’t make me play with myself while reciting the lord’s verse in front of, at least not right in front of Mr. Taylor and my brothers.” I almost believed she had blown the little white-alert game she was playing with her Aunt.

“That is exactly what you are going to do and be thankful it is not more obscene, your brothers have seen you masturbate before!” I had forgotten that Mrs. Waxerman seemed to want to believe these things and would overlook some of the poor acting – which is how my sister and mom came to start their little sexy charade to push the old ladies buttons. “You have peeped on your sister masturbating haven’t you?”

“Yes Ma’am, but mostly Ezekial!” Jimmy threw his little brother under the bus.

“That aint even true! you is the one told me about the peep hole in the shower!” Ezekial threw it right back at his older brother for getting him in trouble.

“Then I see no reason to hide it, Salome will only masturbate openly when she is being trained. If you catch her during her shower than you are to report it to me!” Mrs. Waxerman announced.

Salome’ for her part had already lifted one of her arms below her waist and began softly diddling her clit and hiding her smile. She confused me – did she enjoy teasing her brothers this way? I could smell the familiar pussy juice smell that I loved so much, escaping her pink puffy pussy.

“How come I am being punished for playing with myself in the shower, but it is okay that they was peeping at me through that hole I had no idea was in the bathroom, Ma’am?” Salome’ groaned – half in relief from her fingers and half to pretend to lament the unfairness of the situation for the benefit of her aunt and brothers.

“Can I answer that Ma’am?” I took the ruler out of Mrs. Waxerman’s hand and gave a hard slap to Salome’s ass without waiting for her Aunt’s permission.

She knew I was in on her charade at least I thought I understood the game she was playing. Even still she gave me a look of hurt surprise that I would sting her ass as hard as I did with the ruler – but she did not stop playing with herself. Her eyes were down-turned but when her bright blue gaze turned up at me I felt the swagger I felt when dealing with the girls in my own family and not an ounce of fear that I might have just overstepped my bounds.

“You did not have to know they were peeping on you, you should not have been masturbating for your own pleasure. The fact that you got caught at it does not change what punishment will be meted out by Mrs. Waxerman! The fact is the boys are not going to peep on you anymore!” I announced as if I were delivering new rules.

Even Mrs. Waxerman looked at me as if she were surprised they would not be – she knew they were little perverts.

“No,” I explained “Because from now on at least one of them will supervise you in the shower, or when you piss or shit and report on whether you tried to coerce them into permitting you to pleasure yourself privately!”

“Hey now!” Salome balked and I cut her off with another strapping from the ruler.

“I am sure you know better than to speak when a man is instructing you and interrupt him before he is finished?” I informed her but I was looking at Mrs. Waxerman’s eyes. She has always considered me borderline retarded but she seemed to be reassessing that as I took control of her niece.

“You will learn never to play with that dirty pleasure box of yours when you are alone,” I checked out the delicate young ‘pleasure box’ as she fingered herself in time and with added intensity to my words. “You will ask permission of Mrs. Waxerman and your brothers if you can masturbate in their presence at least four hours a day and you will only do it when they are watching so that they can mock you for your dirty, disgusting habit until such time as they feel you are not tempted to play with yourself when alone, is THAT understood?”

“Will you hit me with the ruler again if I say it aint understood, Sir?” Salome’ was half joking and I knew it. She was practically purring now as she masturbated right in my living room.

“Would you prefer I get the kind of paddle we use for my mother’s fat-ass to help you understand?” I said quite pleased with myself. This was a girl I had known for only a week or two, who would not be here like this if not for the chance encounters of her family with mine during all this discipline. It is funny how fate works – it is almost like there is an author who enjoys clever twists engineering it all, but I know this is just random chance.

“I think I would prefer that to the birch-oiled switches my Aunt would use on me when we get home Sir, could she take one of the paddles home to borry, Sir?” her southern accent became more pronounced and countrified as she mispronounced borrow in the style of a country bumpkin – lost in her little world of pleasure.

“Actually, we are going to be moving soon and selling a lot of our stuff,” Dad wasted no time trying to make a sale. “I would make you a good deal on some of our equipment to keep the womenfolk in line!”

Salome’ gave me a genuinely surprised look and stopped masturbating. I corrected her with a ruler slap to the finger on her cunt and she continued reluctantly.

Victoria Waxerman chortled “I will be sorry to see you go, it’s a rarity to have decent folk living here. Obviously your wife and daughter excluded. I believe the mountain ways of disciplining women folk will do just fine without any of your fancy contraptions but may I ask why you are moving?”

“My wife and daughter brought us to financial ruin. My wife as you know stopped working when her need to fuck every guy at work exceeded her desire to do her work and then we had to spend so much to please them,” Dad lied.

“And with your wife unable to cook a decent meal, all those nights of fast food and TV dinners probably ate up what little you had left,” she shook her head in agreement savoring the thought of someone else’s financial ruin. Mrs. Waxerman was the kind of Christian who enjoyed neighborhood rumors and scandal, most of all when someone had a fall from grace.

I could see in Salome’s expression she had not expected our move and if I read her expression correctly it was genuine disappointment.

“What will you do for money now? You can’t work because you are too busy supervising the women folk and trying to raise your son doing double duty for the mother.” Mrs. Waxerman enjoyed these kinds of scandals. Divorce, people losing their homes, she was going to make him give her more details about his financial hardship. I would imagine if there was a 900 line you could call to hear about people’s troubles she would be calling it daily.

“Well it is a bit embarrassing to be honest, after the bank takes the house this weekend and we sell everything we own we will still be left with more debt than if we had nothing at all,” My Dad fed into the woman’s craving to hear how his life turned upside down – I wasn’t sure if he knew he was feeding the beast or just telling the truth.

She nodded to continue taking her eyes off Salome’.

“The girls are earning money the only way they can by working as whores down on Martin Luther King Junior,” Bill delivered the news and even her nephews gasped in surprised. “My wife is here because she needed an attitude adjustment before we take her down there to work tonight.”

That is awful! There are so many unsavory types down there Mr. Taylor!” Mrs. Waxerman definitely did not approve.

“You mean blacks?” I couldn’t help myself to clarify what she meant by unsavory.

“Yes well, there are many of them who are quite unsavory,” Mrs. Waxerman was uncomfortable being called out for her implied racism and I enjoyed that almost as much as I did the white alert game we liked to play to shock the shit out of her.

“I meant nothing by it Ma’am,” I smiled and looked at my dad. “It’s just that my mom and sister are mostly self-described nigger fuckers and knew that was where a huge concentration of them lived when they made us whore them out to keep a roof over our heads.” I admit I think I like white alert a lot too because I could almost sense the old woman’s asshole pucker from where I stood as she drank in the vulgarity of my words.

“Now Chris, that is not a nice thing to say about your mother and Sister in mixed company” My dad chided me. “Your mom and sister can call them niggers because they are whores and enjoy talking obscenely, but we have to say blacks, it is far more polite .” My Dad scored massive points with Mrs. Waxerman with that comment. I could imagine a big ‘500 points’ light flashing over her head if this were a video game.

“That is true and I apologize, plus if you remember yesterday they did that gang bang with all those Mexicans you found at Home Depot, right?” I almost didn’t get to finish my sentence because Salome’ interrupted me with intense groaning as she reached a deeply intense orgasm.

I spanked her ass hard with the ruler “You aren’t supposed to enjoy this!” I instructed. “You will have to keep masturbating now through orgasm and lick your fingers after, before repeating until you stop taking pleasure in this treatment!” I struck her hard on the ass cheeks again and she only intensified her orgasms.

“This must be tough for you boys,” My father said apologetically. “Your older sister is probably going to turn out to be a screw crazy whore like my wife and daughter,” he said while the girl masturbated openly and intensely. Her one arm holding her body off the floor was shaking and her knees had bent as her body lit up with goose-bumps.

I corrected her posture so she could continue to masturbate and forced her nose to just above the carpet’s edge as my father explained the importance of discipline to a woman who seemed to thrive on administering it – as the preacher to the choir.

“If I only didn’t love and spoil my wife and daughter and had let them get away with so much for so long – putting on airs,” my father lamented as if that were entirely true and he had always had the option to control them but chose not too out of the kindness of his heart.

“I begged you to let me spank mom and Jamie but you said I was just a boy and even though I was a male, I should show them respect and not try to discipline them,” I grinned at my dad as I lied through my teeth. “Don’t you wish you had let me help you try to control and correct them before it was too late for them to be anything but whores?”

“I sure do Son – I sure do,” Dad chuckled as he probably imagined a situation where we had actually had that conversation years ago.

“Well Mrs. Waxerman has nipped this in the bud, and she needs no help or advice but,” I stopped on but and waited for Mrs. Waxerman to give me her full attention. “If her nephews wanted to learn how to grow up to be like you and keep their own wives in line, then their sister would be an opportunity for you to teach them how to discipline with stern love and kindness the way you do.”

“I am sure Mrs. Waxerman knows what is best for her nephews, Son,” My dad was watching the girl masturbate herself and lick her wet fingers before replacing them again with amusement. “If she had wanted to teach them that, she could have come to me and used my wife or daughter to give lessons on how to control a woman without Salome’? Salome is it?” my dad asked Salome her name.

She nodded ‘mmm-hmmm’ with her eyes shut as she toyed with her clit and fingered herself without concern for who was watching.

I spanked her finger hard and told her “Clean that off, you are already so undisciplined you forgot to say Sir!” when she dutifully did as ordered without complaint I delivered another spank to her undefended clitoris and she spasmed almost falling over.

“I don’t know Dad, we are going to move after this weekend so it will be too late and I think this girl needs discipline.” I turned to the boys who were somewhat mesmerized by their sister’s furtive dance of self-eroticism on her own finger like a mini-stripper pole. “You boys would be willing to learn to spank your sister in ways that would reach a woman instead of playing in the yards all the time?”

There was an exultant ‘Yah!’ from all three. A reluctant Gordon added “After she get us alone though, she will give us payback for anytime we peeped on her, getting her in trouble afor, she always made sure of that.”

“There will be none of that, if you are acting upon my instruction to discipline or monitor your sister and she tries anything, then you will learn to give her the business end of the ruler.” Mrs. Waxerman had just agreed with us hook, line and sinker.

I handed the ruler to Gordon with a smile and he told his sister to remove her hand – she complied without complaint.

He delivered a hard smack to the lips of her clit just as I had done and her entire body shook electric. She waited and he delivered a second one with glee to the same reaction.

“The boy seems like a natural,” My dad complimented him and he beamed while the two other boys clamored for a turn.

“First though, let me give you a pointer. You want to spread around the impact when you can. You don’t want to numb one part of the body. Here hold her ass cheeks apart like this” I let Gordon pull his sister’s ass cheeks apart.

At first her left leg spasmed and I thought she was going to collapse on the floor. “We call that a Jamie when a girl has a spasm like that,” I pointed out. I could tell Gordon was nervous about touching his sister’s body so I added “Really grab both cheeks with each hand and spread nice and wide. You won’t hurt her, you can’t rip a hole in her butt any wider than the one she has.”

The boys loved my joke – they loved potty humor of all kinds.

Then I delivered a strong, flat edge of the ruler directly to the darkly brown and tender pucker of her asshole and she made a gasp but continued to wait for another strike.

“You can masturbate your pussy, we won’t hit that” I told her and she did not waste anytime reinserting her finger.

I gave the ruler to Gordon and told Jimmy to pull her cheeks apart so that he could get a turn.

“Is the brown on her asshole dookie?” he asked. He was shy about actually spanking his sister’s ass but I knew he genuinely thought it might be.

I bent over and gave it a sniff. Then I touched it with my finger and felt how warm and throbbing it was before licking it. “It doesn’t taste like dookie. I think some women have a nice pink one like my sister and then some girls just have a darker shade of skin around the hole. It may be genetic, Mrs. Waxerman may we see yours?”

It was a worth a try – but if looks could kill I would have been dead.

“Okay, well see, she is a good woman who doesn’t need correction. Let me go show you on my mother, she probably needs me to check on her enema anyway.” I put my arm around him and started to lead the boys to the patio. Jimmy let his sister’s ass cheeks flap back together reluctantly to follow me in awe.

“Nooooo,” Delilah softly moaned.

“No what?” I turned back to the girl playing with herself for our amusement and edification.

“No sir, I’ve not told the story of Salome’ yetttttttttt,” she fingered herself hard and intensely.

“Well, as I was saying,” I put my thumb directly on her asshole and held her open for them to see. My hands are about three times the size of theirs and her body responded much better to my man-handling than the half-hearted attempts of her younger brothers. “You never want to allow a woman to have any shit in her ass when you are going to spank it or fuck it. You will have to make sure she shits at least four times a day and punish her if she can’t produce. That will keep her nice and regular and if you follow with the old fashioned enemas once a day that Mrs. Waxerman produces you won’t get any poopy on your fingers,” I held out my dirty thumb to the boys to sniff and they backed away like vampires to holy water.

Then I stuck it in Delilah’s mouth. “Don’t worry if you put your finger in any part of her that is sticky just use her mouth to clean it off,” Delilah sucked my thumb like it was life itself and she was dying without sucking it off my finger. It felt damned good and I felt myself get fully aroused. “This one is a natural little cock sucker,” I told Mrs. Waxerman after enjoying a few more seconds of her mouth. “You should be glad you caught her in time and can show her the error of her ways. I just hope she won’t have to give blowjobs all the time like she does masturbating to prevent her natural inclination to suck on cocks. Where, after all, would you find the guys with the discretion to do it without taking her to Martin Luther King boulevard anyway,” I hinted that the boys would be feeding her cock too but my subtlety was lost on them.

They looked at me like I was the King of all things cool and the wisest man on the planet when I spoke and I really enjoyed the look on their faces as I made their sister my bitch.

“What I said for the asshole goes for the cunt as well – she should piss when she shits at least four times a day around your schedule. You will naturally want to keep her naked at home so she can be spot checked to see if she is aroused. It’s tolerable when she is masturbating like this.” I stuck my finger in her wet pussy and wriggled it around before feeding the juice back to her.

“However, if her mind is not on her discipline and she is having dirty thoughts, you can tell because her nipples are hard like these,” I flipped her nipples and twisted them hard “If her skin gets flush and covered in goose-bumps” I pointed to her quivering thighs and “naturally a very juicy wet pussy. The only response is punishment.”

Ezekial had the ruler and popped her on the pussy hard without being told – she gasped for air and moaned before returning her finger to its dance of pleasure.

“What about affirmations?” My dad was hard I could tell from how he stood and smiled as he asked me to explain those.

“Affirmations are essential. You will ask them why they permit your control, what they are learning about their body, anything you want to know and make them be explicit in their speech. Don’t let them get away with sugar coating it or half answers, you want them to hear themselves agree that they are learning or they aren’t, got it?”

They nodded but they did not have it. They no more understood what I had said then if I had asked them if they primed the flux capacitor before going to warp speed.

“What is your name slut?”

“Mrrr….Salome sir” she cooed with ecstasy.

“Notice how she accepts her shortcomings that she is a slut? It is preferable to being a dirty little bitch and it is honest,” I instructed the boys before asking her “You are a slut aren’t you?”

“Yes sir,” she gushed.

“You want to limit the number of yes or no questions you ask. It is good to ask a few but she can guess what you want to hear. Make her really think about it while you give her the questions that will reinforce what she is learning.” For no real reason I diddled her clit while I instructed the boys before feeding her finger to her to suck.

“You are a sarcastic little tramp and snotty nose bitch as well,” I made her assent to that before asking my question. “Tell us because we are all wondering, why is it you seem to enjoy what you are doing in our living room in front of your aunt and brothers so much?”

She diddled herself harder. “I am not thinking about them Sir,” she answered honestly – she was probably in her own little world. I would have liked to hear her say she was just thinking about me – I still wondered if she really liked me or had been fucking with me all along out of loneliness or pity. It had to get lonely being homeschooled in the Waxerman house with only younger boys around.

“Selfish twat!” I told them to call her out on her bullshit. “Your brothers and aunt don’t want to watch you play with yourself in my living room and frankly me and my dad can watch our girls do it much better than you can,” I was insulting her to get a rise out of her – she was actually masterful in her vulnerable and innocent yet nasty country girl way of playing with herself – it was certainly getting a ‘rise’ out of me.

“You are supposed to be fully aware that we are watching and judging and laughing at you so you accept the shame of your behavior and learn from it. You are never to imagine masturbating alone when you are doing it surrounded by people – is that understood?” I had just asked her another yes or no question despite my instruction not to focus on those- but it felt like a logical follow up.

“Yes sir, but uh-ah-ohfffffffffff” she had caught herself on the edge of orgasm. “I just don’t think it’s fair my brothers will be able to tell me to play with me, myself I mean,” she sucked her lip before continuing “anytime they want. I won’t get my chores done.” She tacked on a ‘sir’ at the end just like she had the excuse that her reason for not wanting to let them have the authority was her concern for her chores.

“Life is not fair, and you teasing your pussy alone is not fair!” I added.

“It’s fornication!” Mrs. Waxerman’s eyes flashed with lightning as she began to understand the affirmation I was giving and reinforce it.

“That is right, it is fornication. You play with yourself alone, but you were not explicit!” I held up a finger of clarification. “When sluts are not explicit it means they are hiding something and you have to make them be honest, that is crucial. If they won’t be honest with you then they won’t be honest with themselves.”

“Do you play with your nipples when you play with yourself?” I reached under her quaking body and began to tease and twist her nipples to see the reaction of total surrender in her face and acceptance of my control over her – she was turning into a jellyfish.

“Yes sir, I am ashamed to admit I play with those.”

“Make her spell it out and say what THOSE are,” I tugged her nipples hard to get the girl’s attention.

“Titties, nipples, I play with my titties Sir” she admitted like it was half delightful and half a surprise to her to hear herself say it.

I would offer them some of the prolactin and oxytocin medication we had put the girls on. We had a large supply and if Mom and Jamie were only going to do this for another week they wouldn’t need it any longer. I was kind of surprised they were still taking the pills considering they never agreed to it and didn’t need them to continue whoring. I think they had just become used to it.

“Give your sister one of these each day as a vitamin. It will make her nipples very supple and sensitive, fatten them up so that when she plays with them you will hear her moan and can catch her more easily.” I saw a smile cross Delilah’s lips when she heard me. I have to admit her white-alert game was turning me on tremendously and I was impressed she was so open in front of not only me and my dad but her brothers and Aunt.

It was so taboo yet so kinky. She seemed to be in her own little world as she played with herself – I needed to bring her back to ours a bit.

“Do you play with your asshole when you are alone?” I asked calmly as I released pressure on her nipples even though I could sense she was not ready for me to stop.

“No sir,” she said without hesitation. I could see she was very shy about having her asshole touched and it was a very new thing to her. My mom and sister had been that way when this began – neither of them saw the intrusion as welcome and necessary. They didn’t see it in any way pleasant and probably still didn’t – but they grew to accept it as necessary after hours of affirmations and persistence – so would Delilah.

“Dad, do you remember when Jamie used to pretend she didn’t play with her asshole so she could do it only in private?” I completely made up a story and my dad agreed to it. “I’ve never seen a slut that doesn’t enjoy her asshole played with.” I began to finger fuck the girl’s ass and found it to be very tight – it might be the first time it had been penetrated.

I took my finger away and leaned close and spit right on it. “If she is resistant and holding her asshole tight when you try to test her or give her an enema, you should spit right on it!” I said to the cheers of ‘cool!’ from the boys who were now apparently my number one fans.

I told them they would need to tell her what to play with when they instructed her to masturbate. “If you tell her to only play with her asshole and you catch her sneaking over to the pussy then,” I didn’t get to finish before Ezekial demonstrated with a furious swat with the ruler what he would do in that case.

“Good job,” I rubbed my hand over his ginger colored crew cut to show my approval. He smiled up at me like I was his long lost father, returned to play football with my prodigal son.

“We get to put our finger right up her butthole?” Gordon asked. His tone implied he could not believe his good fortune.

In part I can totally relate to that. I could not believe my good fortune when I started training my sister and mother. I found myself testing them just to see if they would stop and tell me I had gone too far but the further I pushed the further they bent for me.

I am not the same guy I was three weeks ago. I seldom thought this deeply about anything because I had very little reason to – the world was much simpler to me.

I knew Delilah was an excellent actress and manipulator. She could switch between a honeyed-southern belle to a vixen on a dime – her performance under white alert was flawless. I could not help to believe she was definitely getting off on what she was doing by the way she mewed and cooed while frigging herself.

“Yes, you can and must from now on Gordon,” I told him.

“But she farts from there!” he insisted back. I would have thought he was grossed out by that from his tone had I not heard him and his brothers make fart jokes about my mom and sister for the last three weeks straight anytime I heard them whispering from the other side of the fence.

“That she does and let me tell you as one brother to another – you will get used to the smell of sister farts. My sister’s farts smell kind of like warm parmesan cheese.” I teased to the boys who feigned disgust with faces that read ‘tell us more’.

“She didn’t like me digging around her asshole any more than Salome’ will,” I could see Gordon was looking at Mrs. Waxerman for approval of what I was saying. I wanted to give some biblical precedent or wisdom to explain but I did not have too.

“If Mr. Taylor’s son says you have to do it then stop complaining about it Gordon, he knows what he is talking about,” Mrs. Waxerman gave me the approval I needed instead. I was an ‘expert’ in her estimation because of how effectively we had trained the women of our house and I was flattered she thought so - It had all felt like a happy accident but maybe we were experts after all.

“You don’t want to abuse your authority now Gordon,” I lied - I love abusing mine. I especially loved that somehow my mom and sister took away a lesson that I had never intended to teach when I did. They looked at my disgusting jokes and humor as some kind of sympathetic way to help them cope with an impossible situation and honestly sometimes a disgusting joke is just a joke.

I slipped a finger up the girl’s tight asshole – it was resistant but eventually I filled her sphincter completely. I wasn’t used to that – My sister and mother had learned to relax their sphincter and let me do what I wanted. My finger fit up her ass like OJ’s isotoner glove was around it – extra tight.

“She is resistant to it and tightening up her ass but you’ll just have to keep at it until she accepts it,” I smirked and played around with her asshole. “You want to drive your finger up and in and then wriggle it around before you let her shit to make sure she has to go. Then you will want to do it again after you see her finish and make sure she has gotten it all out so she won’t waste your time asking to go again 20 minutes later. I suggest you only give her a time limit of three minutes when you take her to the bathroom.” I gave the boy’s some pointers – after all, we would be leaving after this weekend and I was an ‘expert’.

“She has to lick it clean?” Gordon still could not believe his luck.

“Yes, as your Aunt reminded us in the book of Corinthians a woman’s role is not to teach or instruct men. We are men – and we are the instructors. The woman’s mouth is not for instructing, her EARS are for learning” I removed my finger from the girl’s juicy tight bottom with a satisfying plop. “That leaves her mouth free for sucking and swallowing instead of talking,” I inserted my finger into her mouth again.

At first she was resistant as I rubbed my finger on the outside of her lip to let her know it was not going anywhere until she finished. Then she opened her mouth and started to lick her finger. I loved how she seemed so conflicted – her resistance made my dick hard.

“So Delilah, I mean Salome’” Gordon was wrestling with the new version of his sister that was unfolding before him. “She has to lick my finger even if it’s been up my own butthole?” he asked seriously while his brothers laughed.

“Why would you have your finger up your own butthole?” I looked at him realizing that they may not have grasped my lessons as well as I thought.

“I am not saying I would but if I did then does she?” Gordon clarified as if this were a perfectly reasonable question.

“Gordon does put his finger up his own butthole!” Jimmy announced like a tattle-tail.

“Do not!” Gordon punched his brother in the shoulder hard.

“Do too, I saw you in the bedroom!” Jimmy replied and returned the punch.

“What you looking for, are you homo?” Gordon returned the punch and then I broke them up.

“If you have anything on your finger that needs cleaning- whether snot is running down your nose or you’ve had your finger up someone’s butt then you have your sink right here.” I returned my finger to the girl’s mouth to demonstrate. I said “You’ll want to try to depress the tongue and get the finger back as far as her tonsils if you can,” I was checking the girl’s gag reflex as I explained.

“OH GAwwwwdddd,” Delilah called out in hung ecstasy while she frigged herself. She has small teeth – like they were still her baby teeth and when she bit her lip you could see just the hint of the white ivory of a snaggle tooth emerge.

“Yes God, let’s all turn our eyes to him” I didn’t want to blaspheme but I had not been struck by lightning yet. “In your affirmations it would be good to make her recite scriptures that are applicable,” We didn’t do that with our girls but I lied and said we do it every time – which was another 1,000 point flashing award lighting up over Mrs. Waxerman’s head when she heard that.

“Tell them the tale of Salome’” I insisted like I already knew it and just wanted to know if she knew it. Every time I heard the name I thought of Salami and that made me hungry. Every time I looked at her wet juicy pussy I became hungry for pussy so while I was curious I was also extremely horny AND hungry at this point.

“Can I straighten up Sir? I will continue playing with myself!” She declared in that honeyed southern drawl of hers.

“Why is it uncomfortable the way you are doing it?” I chuckled as I looked at the girl with her nose just above the shag of our carpet, legs spread wide and bent over in my living room on full display.

“Yes sir,” she admitted with a pout.

“Good!” I slapped her hard on the ass to the delight of the boys and even Mrs. Waxerman. “It isn’t supposed to be a picnic for you anymore you hussy and jezebel! You think Satan’s clutches around you are comfortable?” I had no idea what I was talking about but it sounded good and I seemed to be baffling everyone with my bullshit.

“No sir,” she breathed out and in rapidly as she continued to frig her knob for us in the same position.

“You’ll learn to do it this way so you can be observed and it may become easier – when it does your brothers or Aunt will come up with a less comfortable position in order for you not to take pleasure in your training as you clearly do now!” I smacked her ass again and demanded she stop stalling and tell us the tale of Salome’.

“Salome the disciple witness to the Crucifixion of Jesus in Mark 15:40?” she asked.

“Heathen child!” Mrs. Waxerman was about to reach for the ruler when she thought twice of it and bid Ezekial give her a slap. He gave her a satisfying welt on the ass cheek and she seemed impressed. “Salome the disciple is apocrypha, you are studying the forbidden texts. A woman cannot be a disciple of Jesus!”

“No Ma’am, Daddy made me read it before he went away,” I wondered what the story was behind their parents anyway. I wondered how bad they had to be if Mrs. Waxerman had been a better alternative.

“Tell the story of your namesake girl, before you try my patience further,” Mrs. Waxerman for her part had been nodding and letting me instruct her sons but in matters of the bible she could clearly not be silent.

Salome was the uh-mmmm daughter of King Herod,” she clearly was having trouble concentrating. “Salome danced the dance of seven veils before the King and her mother Herodias at the occasion of his birthday at her mother’s order. Salome was a vixen of lust who was fascinated with John the Baptist but her mother wanted him dead and when the King became so inflamed of lust he granted Salome one request for her manipulations – the head of John the Baptist to fulfill her mother’s desire for revenge against him for scorning her over Salome’.”

I am going to have to read this Bible some time – It really sounds like the Jerry Springer of the ancient time.

“Why do you think your Aunt has forbidden you the name Delilah and made you answer to Salome?” I told the boys that affirmations would make girls think and this was a question I thought would definitely do that.

“She wants to humble me before Christ by making me bear the name of the greatest harlot of the Bible. My mother chose Delilah because she cut the hair of Samson to make him weak because she knew I would grow up to be like her – a temptress, however even she dared not give me the most despised name of the Bible.”

That seemed like a good answer and I shrugged “Be thankful you don’t have a name like Cow tits or Ass face, those are the ones we gave my mom and Jamie” I laughed.

“You will still refer to them as Mrs. Taylor and Jamie respectfully. Those are vulgar names!” Mrs. Waxerman instructed the giggling boys.

“I wish you wouldn’t” My dad had been standing there, arms folded doing his strong silent type routine. “They are vulgar girls in a vulgar world, so they need a vulgar name and not the pretense of civility and politeness of being proper when they aint”. My dad had perfected the trifecta of using a big word like pretense while slipping an ‘aint’ into a condemnation of his wife and daughter – in short he had just gave Mrs. Waxerman a Waxergasm.

“Fine, you shall call them those vulgar names but you really should stay away from those temptresses anyway, no offense Mr. Taylor” Mrs. Waxerman deferred to him – Dad was now her new favorite person next to Jesus I think.

“Can we give Salome’ a name like that? She is vulgar aint she?” Ezekial asked.

“What name would you give her?” I asked as the girl masturbated with her legs spread before the boys. In the infinite number of cuss words and disgusting names they could literally pick any and it would work.

“Fartybutt!” Gordon announced without hesitation as if he had that name prepared for her all along and was excited to shout it out.

“Yes! Fartybutt!” Jimmy and Ezekial agreed.

I looked at Mrs. Waxerman to see her reaction. I raised my eyebrow like Mister Spock trying to understand human behavior in anticipation of her inevitable response.

“Fine, but you will refer to her as Salome at church or when I have visitors for bridge,” she agreed after giving it a moment’s thought to the cheering boys.

“You guys sure like to talk about farts a lot,” I shook my head in disbelief. “Is that name meaningful? Does your sister fart a lot or something?” I wanted to point out that my mom was Cow-tits because of the pendulous, heaving breasts full of milk and Jamie was ass-face ironically because her face was like an angel and we wanted to take her down a peg.

“Not sure, she never farted around us before,” Gordon seemed confused that I would ask such a question after he scored a victory with choosing it. He seemed perplexed that any further discussion was even necessary.

I could not help but smile that these boys could look at this slicked and well lubricated pussy and ass in front of them and think about farts. I guess when I first started this with my sister I did the same thing – I enjoyed it but I tried not to over sexualize and sensualize it. It took me a while to evolve into someone who could separate who they were as my close family members that I’ve known all my life and who they were now as my sexual subjects and property under my control.

“What about a name that is more fitting and appropriate like ‘Sexy-cunt’ or ‘Peach tits’? I tried to think of something derogatory about Delilah but I genuinely thought she was sexy as all hell – something so authentic about this little country girl that plastic-city girls did not have.

She was the kind of girl that Daniel Boone would have taken to the log cabin and raised eight babies while fighting off Indian invasions – at least that is how she looked to me.

The boys dismissed my suggestion out of hand and repeated ‘Farty Butt!’. I could see from the look on Delilah’s face that she did not like that one bit – even for white alert it would be hard to hide.

“Well it is your sister and we are moving anyway so I guess you should name her,” I shrugged.

I could see from the look on her face as the boys started to make farting noises in anticipation of her coming under their dominion that she was disgusted but she continued to masturbate herself with a look of increasing determination mixed with a resignation that she would be doing this frequently.

“One of the most important things you can do in disciplining your sister is to have fun with it,” I agreed with the cheering boys. “If you start to feel bad for her you’ll have sympathy for her situation,” I was genuinely starting to feel like perhaps we had gone too far today. Delilah had hinted that she was under white alert and was going along with this for whatever twisted reason she might have, but had I just escalated things well beyond where she wanted them?

“Salome?” I asked but was quickly corrected by Gordon “Farty Butt, I mean, that is your new name. You like what your brothers chose for you?”

There was silence as she frigged herself and before Gordon could pop her once with the ruler that the boys had been fighting over she said dejectedly “Not really, no Sir” her finger had slowed its methodic rotation around her clit as well.

“You see boys, your sister does not like the name you chose for her,” I said sympathetically. They looked at the ground defeated.

“That is why it seems like the most appropriate name,” I smiled and added “If she enjoyed it then she would learn nothing from it. Is that not right Mrs. Waxerman?”

“Tell them what 2 Corinthians 12:7 says Salome’” Mrs. Waxerman refused to refer to her as farty butt even at her nephews’ insistence – she was simply too sanctimonious and proper to dignify the name with utterance from her own lips.

She thought about it and then recited the verse “Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me.” Nodding her head in understanding.

It at first surprised me that she could quote the bible so well and that anyone would waste that much time studying it to have that memorized. Then I realized I could pretty much quote any Star Wars, Star Trek, or Monty Python skit verbatim – I just had a different focus.

“What about 2 Timothy 2:3 -join with me in suffering like a good soldier of Jesus Christ, Ma’am?” Salome’ offered in response to her Aunt.

Her Aunt was quiet while the girl slowly frigged herself and then turned to Gordon “Give farty butt my answer.”

Gordon, delighted to be asked, obliged with a solid flat-spanking of the ruler across his sister’s rosy-red ass.

“What about Peter 4:20 of the Word?” I asked with a churlish smile and then added “Oh had you not heard? The bird is in fact the word.” I was about to break into a rousing rendition of “Well-a-well-a-don’t you know, everybody’s heard the bird is the word’ when my father elbowed me to cool it.

“Forgive my son, he can easily be distracted,” My dad chimed in. He was well interested in this girl but he also knew that in a few hours the sale would be starting and he had things to do with my mom.

“I understand as can mine and I fear that they will delight in the torment, but not in the lesson that is being shared with my wayward Niece who I had come to think of as a daughter. It is now clear to me that I doted on her as a favorite when I should have been preparing the boys for their ascent to manhood. Farty butt, do you agree that I spoiled you and you took advantage of my generous nature?”

I was shocked to hear the old shrew say the words ‘farty butt’. She had learned diction after she left hog-wallow or whatever mountain-hovel she had grown up in and delivered the words with the kind of class of a Hellen Mirran mixed with a little of the self-righteousness of Tammy Faye Baker but the underlying down-home quality of a Paula Dean.

“Yes Ma’am, I guess I did and I apologize, I really do. I don’t want to have to do this anymore, I will be good.” She pleaded.

“Shall I believe a temptress who can dance the dance of the seven veils and accept her apology or remind her that the scripture Chris was talking about was 1 Peter 4:12 do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that has come on you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you.

Exekial read the next verse from memory out loud to add “In the same way, you who are younger, submit yourselves to your elders. All of you, clothe yourselves with humility toward one another, because..” he seemed to forget the rest.

Gordon smacked him with the ruler and finished the passage for him “God opposes the proud.”

“That is why you must help your sister to shed her pride and behave as a slut,” I explained. Mrs. Waxerman’s eyes burned through me with anger until I added “Because she is just a slut anyway, like my sister, and the only way to cure her of it is to make her smoke a carton of cigarettes” I continued the metaphor from earlier about being caught smoking and having to learn your lesson by smoking a carton in one sitting.

“Where are we going to get a carton of cigarettes at though?” Gordon asked dumbly.

“No, that is not what I mean,” I clarified for the kid but saw he didn’t get it. “You are going to cure her of her misbehavior by making her do it openly in front of you a lot and making it unpleasant to do, do you understand?”

“Yes sir, but when does she smoke cigarettes?” Gordon said revealing he had no idea what I meant. I needed to show him an example.

“Here, you must be tired from standing up around this slut, have a seat guys.” I bid them to sit on our couch. We were going to lose it soon enough anyway.

“Salome’” I corrected myself “Farty butt you may stop masturbating yourself,” I ordered. She seemed relieved and at the same time reluctant – amazing acting for white alert. I wondered if she was dehydrated from all the juice that had dripped down from her wet pussy the entire time she had been playing with herself.

“Clean your slit with your finger if you want a drink,” I ordered and she looked right at me with her pretty blue eyes and lifted a finger to her mouth without taking her eyes off of me. I wondered what must be going through her head right now – if I had masturbated that long I would be ready for a nap but there was a smoldering in her eyes – a fire.

“Get over here and show your brothers the dance of the seven veils that you are famous for,” I ordered.

She looked at me confused and I almost saw a tear welling up in her eye but I knew better than to fall for crocodile tears as she shook her head no. “I don’t know how it is done,” she added “Sir” with a crack in her voice.

“You are going to dance for the men as if you are trying to convince us to give you John the Baptist’s head on a platter – as a temptress I am sure working our laps is going to come very natural to you.”

She stood up and shook her arms slightly to get the blood flowing “Thank you Sir for permitting me to stand up,” I said.

“Sir?” she asked.

“That is what you should say when your brothers give you permission to get out of that position – now dance.

She glided towards me reluctantly and said ‘There is no music’ as she stood in front of me. I smirked at her because she had a genuine look of concern on her face about her lack of music more than her vanity. I overlooked her forgetting to say “Sir” because after all, this was white-alert anyway, but then I wondered if she had wanted me to call her out on it and punish her. Jamie and Mom would do that sometimes – at least I think they did when they forgot their protocol in the heat of the moment around Mrs. Waxerman and then they would beg for forgiveness and punishment.

That is fucking best. I love it. I grinned at Salome’ – I was so impressed with how good of a sport she was being and thrilled by her willingness to commit to her role. I still can’t get over the fact she had been here for what was probably thirty minutes and I got her undressed and from the door to the floor. It took much longer to get my mom and sis that way – well, I guess I can’t even take credit for that one. They pretty much did that to themselves.

“Dance for Jimmy and I’ll turn something on,” I volunteered to walk over to the stereo we had played for mom earlier. When I had my back turned, the one I called Jimmy told me his name was Ezekial – I never can keep their names straight. I think I associate them like I would a single person – and not three individuals.

“Why does the way of the wicked prosper? Why are all they at ease and thriving who deal very treacherously and deceitfully?” Mrs. Waxerman seemed to be quoting another biblical scripture rhetorically for everyone to consider. My Dad answered anyway “We are doing our best to make sure the womenfolk of this family do not prosper in wickedness, I am glad you are doing the same.”

There was a ‘ding’ of appreciation that lit up in Salome’s face right before I flicked the switch on the stereo so she could dance. The awkward silence had been difficult for me – I can only imagine what it’s like to stand there naked with your brother holding your hands on the couch.

The music that came on was a bouncy rap song – perfect for booty clapping and shaking around.

I'm goin down down baby, yo' street in a Range Rover (c'mon)

Street sweeper baby, cocked ready to let it go (HOT SHIT!)

Shimmy shimmy cocoa what? Listen to it pound

Light it up and take a puff, pass it to me now

I'm goin down down baby, yo' street in a Range Rover

Street sweeper baby, cocked ready to let it go

Shimmy shimmy cocoa what? Listen to it pound

Light it up and take a puff, pass it to me now

That is as far as the rap song got before I noticed everyone looking at me with their mouths hanging open. The boys had been shielded from rap and even my Dad looked at me as if I were crazy picking this song. I will admit I was sort of popping and locking to myself for more than an extra-long second before I noticed how this song did not fit the needs of the audience.

The boys were probably raised on Mayberry and TV land if they watched TV at all. They were more white bread Americana than my sister - and she looks like an extra sister from the Brady Bunch.

I will admit I’ve grown a bunch since this whole thing started and began thinking in ways I never would have before – but I guess I still like to fuck up every now and then.

I don’t make the same mistake twice.

I make it six or seven times to be sure – lol.

Anyway, all kidding aside I stopped snapping my fingers and shrugged. “Oops My bad,” I said as I pointed out “My mom was dancing naked in the window to this station this morning,” and left out the part about me making her do it and picking the station.

“Uncouth and vulgar!” Mrs. Waxerman made a face like she just smelled a fart -worse than her usual expression when she heard the music.

“If you don’t want yours to turn out like her, then you should make her dance to something like this,” I crossed my fingers that the next song would appeal to them.

I was lucky – it was a Country station. At first they didn’t recognize the song and listened to the bubbly, country beat. It seemed a little too fast to do anything sexy too. I was about to change the station when I saw Salome’ smile broadly at the backwoods, country tune. She excitedly took Jimmy’s hands as she leaned over him to start dancing.

Baby you a song

You make me wanna roll my windows down and cruise

Hey baby

Yeah, when I first saw that bikini top on her

She’s poppin’ right out of the South Georgia water

Thought, "Oh, good lord, she had them long tanned legs"

Couldn’t help myself so I walked up and said

Baby you a song

You make me wanna roll my windows down and cruise

Down a back road blowin’ stop signs through the middle

Every little farm town with you

In this brand new Chevy with a lift kit

Would look a hell of a lot better with you up in it

So baby you a song

You make me wanna roll my windows down and cruise

She was sippin’ on southern and singin’ Marshall Tucker

We were falling in love in the sweet heart of summer

She hopped right up into the cab of my truck and said

"Fire it up, let’s go get this thing stuck"

She was grinning like she was having fun and dancing for him playfully lying across his body. He tickled her sides with his fingers but she was able to take his hands in hers and pull them over his head to control the dance. She was definitely a natural little lap dancer because she turned around and faced her cute rosy-pink dumpling ass towards him, bent over, and then dunked her head so that her hair whipped forward and across her back.

I thought Mrs. Waxerman might declare it ‘frivolity’ and put a stop to it like some elder Christian in Dirty Dancing. I think she just liked to look stern and condemning but like Statler and Waldorf, the two old men who complain about the Muppets from the balcony, they are back again every week even though they pretend to hate the show.

Just like those Muppets, I believe she has a stick up her butt that keeps her there but that is a metaphor for another time.

I directed her to the next brother on the couch so she could finish before the song was up. They seemed to be having fun and she gave me a ‘Y’all come over here’ sweeping hand gesture to get on the couch and receive my own lap dance.

I thought the polite thing to do was refuse but she didn’t take no for an answer – she took my hand and pulled me down on the couch as the boys made room for my fat ass. Then she gave me an extra-heaping helping of country-pussy in my face.

I am always impressed by cheerleaders and girls in general who can dance fast like this for a long time. I can’t and don’t even see the fun of it – but I sure do like to watch them do it.

I guess that is what made someone decide ‘cheer-leading’ could be a sport. “Yeah, okay so you put on a little skirt and go jump around and we watch you”

“Uh, how is that a sport? What are the teams and points?” said the first cheer-leader to the guy who thought it up.

“Don’t ask so many questions, men are playing football. Now when they do, your sport is to jump around and shake your butts-vigorously. The more you shake around the more we win somehow.” Said the guy in response and that is how cheer-leading was invented.

When the song ended the DJ came on and started talking which seemed to kill the mood. There had been this spontaneous happiness that had spread over everyone while she danced and that had lightened the mood from before.

“So that is the dance of the seven veils everybody,” I laughed and stood up. I had a mega-chubby in my pants and everyone noticed. The boys pointed and giggled. Mrs. Waxerman gave me the stink eye and Delilah looked at me with a twinkle in her eye. I had almost wondered if Delilah was trying to get me to stop the white alert but this last dance told me she wanted me to proceed with her little game. I guess I could do that – I mean twist my arm, right?

After all, in a few days we wouldn’t be here anymore and she wouldn’t have this opportunity with me so I might as well.

“This?” I pointed to my boner protruding happily in my pants.

“It’s baig,” Salome’ was impressed and the exaggerated, countrified way she said ‘big’ made me feel ‘extra-baig’.

I had thought some bump and grind or booty stripper music would have set the right tone but I was glad for the happy accident of that hillbilly-rocking country tune. It had changed the vibe in the room and she was smiling and breathing heavily from the goofiness of the dance she gave her brother and me.

She reached over to touch it with her hands and stroke it playfully– it was the sexiest move I’ve seen since I watched the movie Showgirls with that girl from Saved by the Bell on Netflix. That was a stroke movie and a half!

I slapped her hand as she reached for me. I wanted her to grab my dick – and that is the understatement of a lifetime. I wanted her to take it out and suck it on her knees right here in front of Mrs. Waxerman and then I wanted to fuck her so hard she called my name –and called me Master.

I was as committed to my role as she was hers though. I was the dutiful son who is helping his neighbor’s take in hand an unruly girl and I knew it sent the wrong message if I just stood there and let her feel me up.

“I already ignored you calling me Sir once,” she probably didn’t even realize she had forgotten to say it when she told me there was no music after I ordered her to dance. I held up a finger in her stunned face and said “ONCE!”

“Look how you repay that kindness! You lustfully reach for my cock to try to seduce me? You truly earned the name Salome’!” She had this look on her face of vulnerability –like I was betraying her or making her confused by sending mixed signals. She is an incredible actress – and I have to admit that it turned me on.

Then again watching a cross-eyed chick with big blue eyes give a blowjob like a big, dumb, blonde on Redtube turns me on - I probably have weird tastes. I just love that stupid look they give as they hurl the cock down their throat and gulp it and then when they pull up and you can see their big dumb eyes cross back – hot.

I ordered her to “Bend over right here, right now and hold your cheeks as far apart as you can!” then I turned and walked away without watching to see if she did it or not.

I went to the kitchen and found some ben-gay and handcuffs. “Dad, I know we are selling our stuff, but the Waxerman’s need our help and that would be neighborly. You don’t mind if I give them a few things do you? To help them with this little unrepentant cock-tease?”

My Dad chuckled that he was in full agreement and I could see a glint of approval in his eye. This was a fun distraction for us both. We were so used to rubbing mom and Jamie’s nose in the dirt it was a refreshing change to do this to another girl.

I think it was also refreshing because the little freckle-faced country girl was so obviously a strong-willed, tough little tom-boy and not a push-over yet there she stood with her legs apart, naked and bent over holding her ass cheeks apart in front of her family.

“Did I tell you that you could face AWAY from the couch?” I asked as I returned to the living room. I was energized to give her a good intimidating slap but before I could get to where she was she turned back to face her ass right at her brothers on the couch and answered with a meek and mewling ‘yes sir’.

“You have suddenly developed a little bit of shame and modesty since I went to the kitchen, did you?” I demanded as I took a tube of ben-gay in my hand and dabbed some on my finger.”

She mumbled something. I asked her “What was that?”

“Philippians 2:14; Do ALL things without murmuring and disputing,” Mrs. Waxerman chided her niece. Salome’ gave me an agreeable yes sir in response after that.

“Yes, ALL things without murmuring and disputing from your betters,” I slathered a little on my finger and rubbed it on the girl’s asshole –causing her to jump a little from the coldness of the cream.

“You will want to apply this to her when she gets a little too hot and bothered,” I told the boys and Mrs. Waxerman. “I am going to leave you this cream but I am sure your Aunt has some things better than store-bought Ben-Gay in her country remedies”.

Mrs. Waxerman was already nodding her head in acceptance.

“My mom isn’t as knowledgeable about things like that so we are stuck with city cures,” I tried to sound like a hill-billy but it sounded like I was mocking them so I stopped. Then I stroked Salome’s soft brown hair and said “We were all having fun, and the mood was lightened when we were listening to the music but you had to go and ruin it by grabbing for my dick, why is that?”

I could see a real fire in her eyes as she stared up at me while bending over and holding her cheeks apart. She really hated me for this one. Then again if she hated me and what I was doing and wasn’t acting she could stand up at any time and refuse. It is not like she really HAD to be obedient.

“The reason is because you are cock crazy like my sister and mom but I think Mrs. Waxerman’s watchful eye may have caught you JUST in time,” I grinned. Then I turned to the boys “In a moment she is going to start dancing around, so go ahead each of you and slather some on her lady parts. God gave women sensitive lady parts so they could be easily influenced by them.” I wasn’t sure if that was in the Bible but from what I had heard it sounded like it probably should be. They didn’t dispute it – they held out their fingers and let me give them each a dab.

Ezekial worked more of it onto her butt with a grin and a ‘I can’t believe I get to do this!’ expression on his face.

His brother Gordon applied the cream around her soaked pussy and the lips itself. I showed him how to lift the clit hood and get it right under there. He seemed grossed out by how wet and slippery it was but I assured him it was fine.

Lastly, Jimmy came around to her front and applied it to her lips. I told him “Good idea, I would not have thought of that.” Wondering if it would do any good. I added “Go ahead and get some on her nipples.”

He obliged and asked “Won’t she just rub it off?”

“Good point, that brings me to my other gift. This is the first pair of handcuffs I used on my sister,” I held up the clanky metal toy cuffs. I had busted the safety latch off the side that allows a person locked in them to pop them off easily.

Then I pulled the poor country girl’s hands up and behind her back and cuffed her with them. “You will want to keep your sister cuffed when she is not playing with herself in front of you or doing her chores.”

“Even when doing prayers?” Ezekial asked incredulously.

I thought about that for a minute. I really had no opinion on the matter.

My dad helped me out “We keep our girls cuffed when they pray because otherwise they will offend Jesus by touching their selves when they pray.”

“That is true,” I totally lied. We weren’t very religious and I honestly had no idea what my father’s spiritual beliefs are. I made a mental note to ask him some time.

Salome’ had just started to become aware of the burning tingle of the ben gay on her body. I could sense it in her manner that she was resisting the urge to hop around – it would do her no good anyway to extinguish the sensation she was about to have.

“Then we will do as the Taylor’s do on this matter when it is time for prayer and reflection in the house,” Mrs. Waxerman said decidedly.

“What about around outside and such? How can she climb trees and play?” Gordon sounded somewhat naïve and even feeling sympathy for his older sister. I wondered if I hadn’t gone too far until he slapped her ass when she started to murmur and writhe around.

“Oh, here are an old pair of my mom’s panties,” I reached into the slut-box in the living room where we kept the girl’s clothes. It was almost completely barren as we had taken everything clean to the motel. I stuffed them into Salome’s mouth.

“You don’t want her to be able to bite her tongue or start spewing vulgarities, she should blow in a minute,” I predicted. I had made my sister and mom dance and twist this way many times over the last week – it was a very enjoyable show.

Salome’ started to wriggle in place – almost in pleasure and then she bolted upright in shock. Her bright blue eyes no longer a fire of resistance but now replaced with an expression of panic. She started to dance around – I love it when they do that. It is as if they think they can somehow get rid of the fire on their ass if only they wiggle it enough.

“You can also use Icy Hot,” I explained. “Icy hot is an analgesic. It reduces the pain someone is feeling. The theory is pretty simple. Pain comes to your brain on a certain type of fiber in your nerves. The hot and cold comes into your brain on the spinal cord on a different type of nerve. The hot and cold nerve when stimulated synapses on the pain nerve and prevents the pain information from getting to your brain. Therefore, you don't feel any pain.” I explained. I had Wikipedia on my phone so it made me sound like I was expert when I needed to be.

They all looked at each other as if I had just spoken Latin to them.

As Salome’s ass began to wiggle and buck I pointed and explained “In other words, it won’t hurt her but it makes her shake her ass like this.” Which brought back the giggles and pointing fingers as they watched their sister undulate in torment as the cold and heat sensations triggered various nerve endings in her brain and sent back the reply to ‘dance motherfucker, dance!’

“Oh your question about in public? Well, here” I threw my mom’s clothes at the kid who asked me the question – I think it was Gordon but I really couldn’t give a shit to remember exactly who it was.

“You will make sure she is dressed in as few clothes as possible so she can’t hide anything and so it’s apparent what her shame is – so no one can mistake her for someone respectable like her Aunt or you boys.” I was piling on the bullshit while watching this teenage girl’s tits flap up and down as she hopped and pleaded.

The look in her eyes had gone from panic to pleading to make it stop. It was delicious when it gets to that phase in the process. I smiled at her torment while continuing to explain.

“I always cuffed my sister when I took her to the bus stop, with her hands behind her or in front carrying something for me. They can be discrete that way,” I explained.

The boy’s looked somewhat intimidated by their sister and seemed reluctant to go that far.

“You don’t want her to slap you do you?” I asked and they naturally shook their heads no. “Then you will want to keep her cuffed so she can’t most of the time. If she gets a free hand she may pop you one. Here you have the key, don’t lose it. If you are going to go play in the woods with her, you probably just want to cuff her to a tree until you are done, but you will have to use your best judgment.”

“What about in church and such?” Jimmy the oldest one asked. He was giggling at his sister and pretending it was fairly normal while she started to thrash around and hop. She was trying to spit her gag out so she could scream.

I reached up and stuffed the panties all the way back in after she managed to spit it part of the way out. “You’ll want to keep an eye on her to make she doesn’t choke or accidentally drop the gag,” I laughed with no remorse at the helpless girl’s suffering.

Mrs. Waxerman looked at me intently for a good answer. I didn’t have one and I looked at my Dad. He smiled at my handoff and spoke up. “That is an excellent question, Jimmy.” Jimmy smiled at my dad’s approval and acknowledgement. “Good Christians would indeed be offended by a nasty girl like your sister, I am sorry to tell you that. However, only the bad ones would ever engage in rumors and condemnations. Your Aunt will tell you she is the last one to engage in gossip and criticizing others,” he nodded at her and she nodded rather sanctimoniously back.

“So the only one who would say anything about it is probably a person of little faith. You may have to explain that it is a phase your sister is going through and that she is being shamed into behaving appropriately - Ask them to have a little patience.”

Jimmy held up the half-top my mom wore the night before and stutteringly read the words “I Heart Black Cock?” when he realized what he said – he dropped the shirt in his lap and covered his mouth.

“My mom does love black cock, my sister has a matching one they insist on wearing.” I lied. “They wear theirs to church. You can have that one though and we’ll just drive mom to work naked in the back of the truck, not a biggie.”I nodded at my father and he smiled at me in agreement.

“What church would allow, I mean what church does Mrs. Taylor attend?” Mrs. Waxerman ignored her nieces muffled cries and obscene dances while her hands were cuffed behind her.

“She uh,” I had to make something up quickly – what if it was the same one Mrs. Waxerman went too? “She goes to Deacon Dan’s church.”

“Deacon Dan?” she pressed her hand to her chest as if to calm her restless heart over the very idea. “As your father says I am not one to gossip, but he was defrocked and laicized as a minister at Fist of God Assembly and his rights removed to exercise the functions of the ordained ministry! How could she be attending at HIS Church?” she looked at me skeptically.

Already, the wild ride that Salome’ had been on was slowing down and she got herself under control and began to calm herself as the Ben-gay’s initial discomfort and stimulation subsided.

I looked at my father for help because I did not want to get caught in a lie and ruin this fun we were having. “Dad, has mom been lying to us about going?” I asked.

“Sorry Mrs. Waxerman,” My dad said slowly. “You know my son is a bit slow some times,” he smiled at me as he delivered the insult. I tried to keep from making a goofy face because I knew he respected me. He might not have before we started this training with the girls but he did now.

“First, I’d appreciate it if you would call my wife Cow tits, and not give her the respect of Mrs. Taylor, it just sounds vulgar when you refer to her as a lady like yourself,” My Dad’s slow-southern accent voice kicked in and it seemed to inflate his authority and the esteem she held him in. She nodded acquiescence to his wishes without hesitation.

“Naturally, I do not gossip but you know that Dan’s wife left him and I think he lost his daughter too?” He asked.

“Yes, he was accused of being unseemly with teenage girls at the youth ministry!” she had all the dirt and more on his wife and daughter’s departure in disgrace from the church.

“I don’t understand anyone who would take advantage of a teenage girl like that,” My Dad almost laughed as he added “Son, can you spank your sister’s ass until she calms down and gets back in position?” to the boys. They almost fell over themselves to be the one to spank her all three slapping at her bare-ass cheeks until she finished shaking around and bent over.

“Should we uncuff her?” Gordon hedped up the key to ask my father.

“Son, use a little common sense,” My Dad said “I am talking to another adult, now use your sister’s example about not showing respect and unless you want to end up like her – think!” he held his finger up to the temple of his forehead. The boy continued to look at him dumbfounded and my father added “Unless you want her to hold her ass cheeks apart or play with herself, then no.” He finally told the boy straight before finishing his story.

“So Deacon Dan started a church downtown on Martin Luther King jr. Boulevard but naturally because I do not gossip I did not know he was not an OFFICIAL Deacon any longer,” I could hear in the subtext of my father’s voice that he also had no idea what an official deacon could actually do or that there was anything that made it official other than calling yourself one.

“We’ll have to ask your mother if she has been going there as an excuse to fuck the other parishioners,” My dad reminded and I nodded. The boys were thrilled at my father’s use of an obviously forbidden cuss word to them.

“We don’t say that word, we say fornicate, Mister Taylor” Mrs. Waxerman instructed while giving my father a cold stare – how easily one can fall from her good graces.

“Well I am sorry Ma’am, my wife has fornicated a lot of men, and if you see it as often as I do it is a lot shorter just to say fuck.” My Dad replied plainly and unapologetically – the boys laughed that he had a snappy response to her statement.

“It is your house Mister Taylor and under your roof, I completely understand that the morals and standards are much lower than ours,” her boys giggling was muffled as they heard the old dingbat fire another broadside of reprobation at my dad. I only know the word reprobation because the old dingbat fires off fancy words like she does her disapproval.

Her unjust condemnation just rolled off his back. I think a few weeks ago he might have cared what the old dingbat thought but he just grinned. He had wanted her to get that impression – that was what white alert was all about. I think as long as she is not in on the joke it continues to be funny even if we have to let her mock us in the process.

“We’ll check into whether or not Deacon Dan allows my wife to roam around free or he has caught her masturbating around the Church, fair enough Ma’am?” My Dad found that one way you could beat Mrs. Waxerman was to graciously accept her stern gaze and just give in. When you stand up to her she only blows harder and sucks wind longer.

“And what church home do you attend for fellowship, Mr. Taylor?” The old ladies question was laced with the suspicion that he did not attend church at all.

“You know I wish I did have time to attend church, but between caring for my son and keeping the womenfolk out of trouble and on the straight and narrow, why I just don’t have time for Sunday school, Ma’am” my Dad may have laid it on fairly thick with his accent and pretense that he was simply too busy to attend church instead of his desire to watch football and sleep in.

“The Lord’s day is the Sabbath, Mr. Taylor which is a Saturday, but barring that I see no reason you cannot set aside whatever you are doing that you cannot attend the Lord’s instruction and give tithe and contrition as instructed by our holy father.” She was giving my father an order not a suggestion by her tone.

“Well I agree with you Ma’am, you are right,” those words are usually only said sarcastically to Mrs. Waxerman when she complains at restaurants and grocery stores by the manager of whatever employee she finds fault with.

“I would like to attend your Church, the Fist of God Assembly,” he almost chuckled on the name of the church but he kept it together. “My concern was really to your good reputation that if as your neighbors we attend how it would reflect on you that my wife and daughter are such openly unrepentant whores and by association with you if it would reflect on your impeccable name –especially given your own trials and tribulations with this one.” My dad teased the girl’s nipple with a pinch for emphasis.

The boys had completely tuned out of the conversation and were playing grab-ass with their sister. They would pinch or try to slap and she would wiggle out of the way. I could not tell if she was being playful or trying to give them a hint to leave her alone or there would be repercussions

I took the panties out of her mouth – they had slobber and were half way out anyway. I wiped her wet pussy with them. It was thick with her own pussy-honey when I stuffed them back in her mouth. She looked up at me with that fiery look of betrayal in her eyes like I was being cruel – it was kind of refreshing.

My mom and sister were so compliant that they never questioned my right to do naughty things to them. They might give me a nasty look every now and then at first but eventually they would come to some rationalization and gush about it – all it took was telling my mom how much I loved her.

I do love her, but I have to admit letting her think we are all getting along and having harmony seems to really get her maternal juices flowing and that must connect to that sweet, sweet, pussy of hers on some level because she gets wet as the panties in Salome’s sexy little mouth.

“I do see your point Mr. Taylor, that discretion may be called for,” she diplomatically agreed that we might make her look bad by extension. “You will be moving after this weekend anyway and I know you are a biblical man. Do you know your Hebrews?” she asked.

“Sure I know some Jewish people. Herschel Kauffman lives just down the block,” my Dad seemed perplexed by the question as did I.

“No, Mr. Taylor,” she smiled with a look of mental superiority “Hebrews 12:7 You must submit to and endure correction for discipline; God is dealing with you as with sons. For what son is there whom his father does not thus train and correct and discipline?”

I laughed “Hey now, I am not masturbating in front of you Mrs. Waxerman,” I chuckled with confidence.

She did not like my joke.

Naturally, that is an understatement. She sniffed like she was smelling hot horseshit and looked away from me. I heard her quote the scripture and given what had just happened I thought it was a pretty funny response.

Honestly, as horny as I was from Delilah’s delightful cum-uppance I would have been glad for an opportunity to whip it out and beat off right then. I could have done it while looking at Mrs. Waxerman’s stone-cold, hatchet face – probably.

I mean I would fuck poor little Delilah – now that she is Salome’. However, as many liberties as I took with the girl, that would probably have been too far over the top. I did think about it though - a lot. I even snatched a picture with my cell phone to ‘think about’ later if I am ever alone in the bathroom and need some inspiration.

I would definitely be plowing my mom as soon as these country-bumpkins get out of here for some release.

“I think she is saying she needs a male role model to train and discipline her sons?” My Dad was just as confused.

“Oh, no way, I don’t want to have to do what Delilah does!!” Gordon looked terrified.

His brother slapped him “It’s Salome now’” he corrected.

Ezekial slapped them both “It’s Farty butt” they all agreed and giggled.

“Actually Mister Taylor, I was saying that you have done an incredible job with your son given what you had to work with,” she looked at me like I was the hot horseshit she had been smelling and almost stepped in. “Given his mother’s abandoned her responsibilities and his sister’s influence, it is a surprise he turned out as well as he did.”

That was the most backhanded compliment I’ve ever received - and I’ve received a few.

“Thank you Mrs. Waxerman, I feel exactly the same about you!” I could not help but smile as I delivered my own goofy retort.

I know what a retort is because she told me my “retort was uncalled for if I would learn to listen and respect my elders I would have heard everything she had wanted to say.” I smiled impishly and rubbed Salome’s back softly. It was warm to the touch and goosebumps popped up as I rubbed softly.

“Today the son has disciplined and trained and shown us how he too is a man, and I am impressed with you young Man. If you would have a wretch like my niece and do not feel she is as far gone as your mother and sister, I would be inclined to let you court her and marry her one day.”

That was perhaps the nicest compliment I’ve ever received – and I’ve not received all that many as genuine and creepy at the same time as that one.

“You want me to marry your niece, Mrs. Waxerman?” I asked sheepishly. I was flattered and at the same time a little amused at how completely. I could see Salome’ was struggling with her gag to say something and I was glad she couldn’t.

“Foolish boy, if I had the ruler in my hand right now it would go across your knuckles!” she wasn’t furious with me she looked at me like I was foolish – more so than usual. “You don’t know how to listen to your elders. I said I would let you court her and then marry her one day. You would still have to prove you could tame a scurrilous tramp like this one.” She took her niece by the ear and stood her up straight.

“Take those disgusting things out of your sister’s mouth please,” Mrs. Waxerman instructed Jimmy and he dutifully removed the panties from his sister’s mouth. “Make sure you wash your hands thoroughly, all of you, when we get home.”

“Her too?” Ezekial asked of his sister.

“Her hands are the cleanest thing on her I would imagine,” Mrs. Waxerman looked the naked girl up and down with disgust before asking her if she was done showing herself to the Taylors.

“Yes Ma’am, may I be uncuffed now and get dressed please?” Salome’ sounded particularly complacent and accommodating after what she had been through.

“You sure you don’t want to leave her here so she could see my mom so she could see how she will turn out if she doesn’t listen to you?” I joked to Mrs. Waxerman. I would definitely have fucked the shit out of her sexy little country-fried pussy if Mrs. Waxerman and her boys weren’t around – it would give me a chance to ‘court’ her. I laughed mentally at my own joke.

“Where is Mrs. Tay..I mean Cow Tits,” the question did not come easily out of Mrs. Taylor’s mouth. It was like superman passing a kryptonite turd for her to say something as vulgar as ‘cow tits’. I wondered how long before she came around to Farty Butt.

“I really need to check on her actually, if you all want to see her I am sure she is still in the backyard.” Dad guided everyone outside.

“Being lazy and not doing house work, obviously” Mrs. Waxerman looked at our house with disgust and followed my father with her little flying monkeys, I mean boys following behind.

I had a spare handcuff key and took Salome’ by the hand to uncuff her. I was going to let her get dressed in my mom’s clothes and ask her how she felt after that when I heard my father yell “What the fuck is wrong with you?” and a lot of laughter and consternation.

I know what consternation means because Mrs. Waxerman said something about the level of dismay and confusion she had about what she had just seen was the ‘height of her consternation’.

I pushed Salome’ forward but she did not bend very easily or step lightly at my command like she had earlier – as if she were back to her old tom-boy ways. However once she looked out the screen glass door she stepped outside of her own free will to see what everyone else saw.

I wasn’t sure what the story was but my mom was on all fours, naked with her cuffs behind her back as I had left her. She was rocking back and forth and Roscoe was humping her ass cheeks furiously. She was crying and had been struggling but he was wedged under her handcuffs and he seemed stuck.

The cement on the ground underneath her was still wet from whatever had spilled out of her ass earlier and the enema bottle was rolling around next to her.

“What are you doing, Cow Tits?” My Dad had his hands on his hips and it was hard to tell from his tone if he was amused or furious. He seemed to be feigning outrage for Mrs. Waxerman and her boys.

“It is a long story Sir, please, please help me get him out of me?” She pleaded through tears as if she was panicking and wiggled her ass a little futilely. She was on the ground and unable to stand up or even get her legs up underneath herself to stand.

“Oh, I am sure it is a fairly short story. Does it kind of start with ‘once upon a time’, and then end with ‘got so horny she fucked the family dog in the yard and was caught by her husband and the neighbor boys?’”.

My mom’s expression reminded me of the one Salome’ gave me when she was looking right at me earlier during her little show. It did not seem like ‘white alert’ where my mom was secretly shocking them by doing what Dad was going to make her do anyway- she really seemed like she was worried.

“Bill, please? I can’t do this, please get him off me? Please? Please?” she begged and it was convincing – at least to me.

My Dad insisted she rephrase that and call him Sir while the Waxerman boys cut up and joked.

Mrs. Waxerman just shook her head and made a ‘tsk, tsk, tsk’ sound. The little black girl at the motel who is always saying something is ‘Nasty!’ and her would really have a lot to talk about I think.

“My widowed-Aunt was a lonely spinster and she took to raising dogs to keep her company. We had to commit her to the sanitarium, because of her madness and lust for beasts. However, there is hardly any shame as a reflection on you,” Mrs. Waxerman passively aggressively tried to comfort my father and insult my mom and him.

He ignored her and bent down to examine Roscoe and take him off her back. “Well, I will be, he doesn’t want to let go.” My dad mused and scratched his chin.

“He can’t Sir,” my mom bit her lip and hoped that was enough of an explanation.

Naturally it wasn’t – my father insisted she clarify.

“Can you ask them to go back inside Sir?” My mom was in such a state she just noticed Salome was naked and standing there looking at her as well. She looked at her husband and back at Salome’s nudity and said “Please? Whatever you guys are doing in there? I’ve grinned and bared them seeing me do almost every disgusting thing you made me do, but this is more than they should see.”

Mrs. Waxerman agreed “Leviticus 18:23 declares, “Do not have sexual relations with an animal and defile yourself with it. A woman must not present herself to an animal to have sexual relations with it; that is a perversion.” And gathered her nephews to go back inside.

I was really surprised. I assumed a book with as much incest and perversion as this book seemed to have about Salome’ teasing and flirting with her step dad enough that he would let her have some guy killed would probably be thumbs up on dog-sex.

My dad held up a finger. “Your boys have already seen, you can clearly tell the Dog is fornicating with my wife,” he explained – Mrs. Waxerman seemed satisfied he used the words fornication. “Or should I say that she was fornicating with him as I don’t think it was Mr. Roscoe’s idea was it?”

“No sir,” my mom agreed with a pout.

“Not so proud of what you were doing out here now that you’ve been caught?” My dad tickled one of her nipples and gave it a squeeze playfully. “You are ALERT to the fact that the FENCE needs painted white?” Dad hinted she needed to play along but put the emphasis on the word Fence instead of the word White – it was kind of funny but she got his meaning.

“It says right on her back what she was gonna do!” Gordon had sounded out the words I wrote earlier. I had told my mom I wrote “I (heart) my dog”. Instead I wrote “Dog Fucker” on her back. At the time, I thought it would be pretty funny but when my mom heard what I actually wrote she started to wiggle and get even more scared. She was trying to loosen Roscoe’s hold on her back.

“You are going to be knotted for about 20 or 30 minutes if the animal gave you his seed,” Mrs. Waxerman explained. How she knew that – we did not ask.

I did smile thinking about how she did know that. I am sure it is something lame like she is a championship breeder who is a big dog buff the way she pampers Mr. Snips – her own dog. I still wished it had something to do with some hillbilly thing she was talking up on holler-hill with her widowed Aunt.

“You will not repeat the filth written on Cow-tit’s back again!” Mrs. Waxerman instructed Gordon and he nodded apologetically. That was good enough for his aunt and the matter was dropped – all except for my mom who was now even more beet-faced than any time I’ve ever seen her blush. Her entire body had goosebumps on goosebumps – and her nipples were straight out and up – hard as a rock.

They were kept that way by the nipple rings anyway – but they seemed extra taut and fat. The adrenalin was probably coursing through her veins – flight or fight reaction to being caught.

“Do you see this wretched and vile woman?” Mrs. Waxerman pulled her niece closer to see my mother and she went without resisting the way she had me.

She nodded sheepishly and answered “Yes Ma’am”.

“This is your future, do you want that?” Mrs. Waxerman asked. She pointed out “If you continue in your wickedness you will end up just like this harlot!”

“No Ma’am, I do not.” Salome’ was almost in tears herself watching my mom wriggle around uncomfortably.

“Are you sure? Because I could leave you here with the Taylor family to let you roll around with beasts LIKE a beast, would you not enjoy being like this unrepentant, prideful, utterly irredeemable and shameless slut?” Mrs. Waxerman asked again this time shaking a finger at my mom more than at the naked teenager standing next to her.

“No Ma’am, I would not.” Salome’ repeated her answer in the same tone as before.

“Farty butt hurry and get your clothes on and ask your brothers to handcuff you so that we can go back home!” Mrs. Waxerman issued the order and I volunteered to walk her back inside and supervise. The Waxerman boys continued to watch my mom writhe in humiliation on the ground.

That was the first time Mrs. Waxerman said Salome’s new nickname and it sounded hilarious. I wasn’t the only one who laughed and giggled – but the real attention was on my mother.

I did want to know the reason my mom was fucking Roscoe but I wanted to say goodbye to Salome. I had plenty of time to grill my mom over why she was doing that.

“Well that was weird, huh?” I said with a smirk. I dropped the pretense of the hard-ass trainer now that we were alone in the living room.

She picked up the clothes she brought and started to put them on.

“Uh-uh, the other ones. The ones my mom was wearing.”

“Chris!” she stamped her foot like a spoiled brat.

“Smaller” I explained. “The ones you came in here in are like something anyone can buy at JC Penny.”

“You want me to wear it because of this dumb shirt,” she held up the half-top to her bare chest and considered the words ‘I heart Black Cock’ on it and looked at me with an expression that sarcastically asked ‘really?’

“What, you said white alert. You got white alert.” I pinched her naked ass teasingly.

She smacked away my hand with a gruff look. “I didn’t know my brothers were going to walk in.” she said angrily.

I was a little confused “You had to know they would find out, my mom calls them the pooper snoopers!”

“Okay, I knew they would find out, they saw how my Aunt has had me dress to come over here and they heard the stuff Cathy Griffin said about me,” she admitted while impatiently pulling the half top over her head.

“You better keep this pussy nice and shaved,” I was teasing her and I moved closer to her and applied one finger to her clit hood with the universal ‘come here’ hand gesture.

She first pushed me away with the flat of her hand to my chest and then pulled me close to her and kissed me deeply and passionately.

“You dummy, I came here for you. I thought it would be fun to surprise you.” She admitted when we came up for air. I was completely surprised.

“I thought you were on punishment anyway? And just figured in for a penny in for a pound,” I gave an expression my mom used all the time.

She looked at me like I was an idiot and began to step into my mom’s skirt. It actually seemed a little big on her compared to my mom’s hips. Salome’ is a lot more wispy and petite – even smaller frame than Jamie.

“Why the fuck would I do that?” she asked with a frustrated expression as she looked around for her heels while buttoning the skirt around her waist.

“You were going to be punished anyway. I figured you just wanted to shock your family and fuck with their heads some?” I asked.

“For a city boy, you don’t know much,” she looked at me with a hint of contempt. I recognized that same look in her eyes now from earlier when I was teasing her and making herself lick her own juices. I waited for her to explain.

“Shit, it’s simple. Cathy Griffin hates me and she wanted to destroy me with her white-girl suburban drama. The thing she don’t understand is I was Auntie’s favorite and the things she told her I did my Aunt knew and overlooked. All I had to do was wait this out and I would have been fine.”

I nodded while looking out the screen glass door to see if anyone would walk in. They were laughing and standing around so my mom must have still been knotted and Roscoe wasn’t going to release.

“I just PRETENDED that Cathy had me over a barrel so the little twat would go away and think she won some victory. Then when my Aunt asked me about it I admitted to everything and threw myself on her mercy. It was simple enough to say not to treat me like the Taylor girls and then she insisted I put these clothes on and marched me over here.”

I nodded – this girl was devious on a whole other level. The manipulations and master plans she thought were obvious were completely unexpected.

“I had no idea you would move away, you dummy! I thought it would be hot to stand here naked and let you play around with me like you do your sister and manhandle me. We would laugh about it afterwards or something.”

She looked around the floor like a girl late for a party and doing a last minute check for something she may have forgotten on the floor. Then she sighed and turned around and put her hands behind her back.

I stood there waiting for her to finish her story.

“Dammit, go ahead and cuff me already before the twisted old bitch pitches a shit fit.” She demanded and willingly let me handcuff her.

“There is no way for me to pop these fuckers off?” she tested their sturdiness and tried to wriggle her hands out.

“I don’t think so,” I answered dumbly and asked “So you were never in any real trouble? You volunteered for this?”

“God damnit,” she continued to work her wrists around in the cuffs trying to find an escape. “That is what I just told you. I was Auntie’s favorite. If I holler I want something – she dotes on me and buys it. If I say my brothers are doing something wrong she punishes them. I could have just denied what Cathy said and manipulated my Aunt into thinking she was a heathen vixen who was telling lies and that would have been the end of it. I fell on my spear basically and said it was all true and would she please help me see the error of the ways but not like the Taylors, you get it?”

“Yes I get it,” I answered – feeling kind of dumb for not realizing any of that. How could I have anticipated all this?

“Farty Butt? Really? You let them pick the name Farty Butt for me?” she turned to look at me and chastise me for the nickname she ended up with. She was clearly not amused.

“Hey that was all your brothers’ idea!” I reminded her that I came up with “Peach tits” or “Sexy Cunt”.

“Those are fucking retarded,” her blue eyes flashed when she complained like blue fire. “They would never have gone with something that dumb sounding!”

“It could be worse, I could have suggested Farty McShittypants,” I joked trying to lighten the mood.

“You don’t get it do you?” she saw that I didn’t and continued. “I am going to have to do this now that my brothers are involved. They are never going to let my Aunt forget it or me to live it down. If I had just kept my fool mouth shut I would not have had to do anything.” She shook her head in regret.

She wriggled out of the handcuffs with a “cool” and then told me to get them back on her quick.

“But you didn’t,” I reminded her. The look she gave me was much more intimidating than Mrs. Waxerman’s worst look because there was a feisty ‘I am going to actually bust your balls’ to her pout that I have not seen before. She could be a tough girl when she wanted to be. I locked her in the handcuffs a second time – and patted her on the butt as I did.

“No I didn’t and I came here to impress you and your Dad,” she admitted reluctantly – not fighting my hand when I gave her a pat but not liking it either.

“You didn’t mind if my Dad seen you naked?” I asked.

“No, I don’t give a fuck, I aint got nothing he aint never seen before on a woman.” She tilted her head at me like she might possibly understand me better if she could see me from another angle – the way a dog tilts its head when it is confused.

“You seemed like you liked it some?” I reminded her – feeling a bit of her anger and frustration and trying to offer her at least something positive out of the experience.

“Yeah, one time to frig myself that was hot, but now I am going to have to do it like five times a day whenever those little maniacs want me too. You get that?” she said.

All I could say in my defense was “Oops, my bad.”