The Family Feud IV

Chapter Forty Five
Wendy’s Journal: A dozen other twisted ideas, vignettes, scenes and questions

**Note to reader: This is an excerpt of Wendy’s journal from Thursday morning from her perspective. The events take place around 10 am just before she is discovered by her family and the Waxermans outside with the family pet. 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

It seemed like a very simple task.

I just needed to find a way to lower myself onto an enema bottle, relax my asshole enough to let it slide in and get it back in there. It was made more complicated by the fact my hands were cuffed behind me and I had no way to pick it up and put it in my ass.

Try #1 I squatted over the enema nozzle and tried to stand the empty bottle up and just sit down on it – repeatedly.

Outcome: The darn plastic bottle would not cooperate with me and just kept falling over every time.

Try #2 I tried to kneel over the bottle and scrunch down far enough that I could angle my body in such a way that I could use my hands to lift up the bottle so I could get into my ass even though they were cuffed.

Outcome: I learned that I need to leave the contortionism to my daughter and nearly sprained my stomach muscles as my diaphragm strained to keep me balanced while I tried to defy the physical laws of reality and put an enema bottle where the sun does not shine.

Try #3 I laid on top of the enema bottle and tried to inch it up my butt.

Outcome: I ended up on my back with the water bottle stuck embarrassingly in between my crack.

Try #4 I flipped over onto my knees and then tried to set the enema nozzle on its side on a chair and then back into it.

Outcome: I managed to almost get the tip stuck in my ass when I realized this was futile and I was going to get in serious trouble.

My son had been outside a few minutes earlier to tell me to clean up. I knew something was going on because he didn’t even come outside to harass me. He just smiled his usual sadistic little smile and mouthed the words “Get that back up your ass right now!” closed the curtain on the sliding glass door and walked away.

Such a loving son, huh?

I had already gobbled up the little clumps of food particles and my own booty-mess when he came to the window.

The Pooper Snoopers had been inside and not paying me any attention at all – so there must have been some kind of serious discussion going on in there. I decided to keep at my experimentations on failure in trying to think of a way to get the enema into my ass without full use of my hands.

I kept seeing Roscoe staring at me every time I looked over my shoulder at him. His mouth was hanging open and he was panting in a way that made it seem like he was smiling and happy to see me.

I felt sick inside knowing that soon they would make me fuck him and probably record it on video. I trusted my husband’s judgment and knew women did this on the internet for fetish sites – possibly even twisted perversions but I still felt in my heart it was wrong.

I longed for the early days of my training when Bill had clear rules and this would have been a gold star kind of thing where I could politely decline. I don’t think he would have dared even bring it up then – we’ve come so far and become so much more intensely disciplined than I ever imagined.

When I first began this I thought they would get me naked and try to spank my butt and then lose their nerve. I assumed that they would get a few laughs at my expense and we’d call it even – wow, how I was wrong about that one.

I had felt up to this point that even with the whore tattoo and everything my husband and son put me through we could go back to a relatively normal relationship. I would probably be a little less conservative around the house in my dress and obviously the things Chris and I did sexually would be with me forever – I would have to live with that but I felt I COULD live with it.

This on the other hand seemed like one of the most disgusting things a woman could do. This is the kind of thing women in Amsterdam or Japan do on video because they can’t find any American women depraved enough to do it.

I kept thinking that soon the pet I had fed for the last six years and never thought of as anything but – would be resting on my back and having sex with me.

I kept picturing Bill and Chris laughing hysterically and it was giving me panic attacks. I wanted to say to them ‘Laugh it up, keep laughing!’ and then stand up and beat them with a stick for making me do this.

I fantasized about it actually. I saw a rake leaning up against the wall – it was one of the ones that Chris had shoved up our butts to make us play ‘scarecrow’ with and I pictured just standing up and beating them.

My hands were cuffed behind my back making it all but impossible - but then it really didn’t matter since I was never going to attack them anyway.

I was just thinking of things to keep my mind busy to take it off my impending and immediate punishment for failing to keep the enema bottle in my ass and/or getting it back up there.

I was also trying to stop thinking about Roscoe.

That is when the strangest question occurred to me. I asked myself what sex with him is going to be like and will it feel like a man’s cock?

That is when my mind started spinning. Keep in mind, I’ve not eaten much or had a lot of sleep at this point and what I have eaten has been shoved up my ass or cunt or both and I was told to be grateful for what I did get.

I got it into my head that if I could first try this with Roscoe before the guys got out here and made me do it then it would not be so bad.

You know how the fear of the unknown is so much more terrifying than the devil you do know?

I knew my sexual submission to Roscoe was inevitable and I just wanted to get it over with – so I could conquer this mind-numbing fear. Thinking about – anticipation was making it far worse.

I backed my ass up towards Roscoe and he looked at me with that dumb, stupid panting dog-smile of his and just stared at my naked ass.

I wiggled my butt and cooed sweetly “C’mon Roscoe, have a sniff” but he was having none of it at first. I have to admit I felt strangely guilty for coaxing him but I was not thinking about the consequences. I had stubbornly made my mind up I was going to do this and I was.

He was timid at first but then just like a few days earlier he came up and started sniffing my ass. I remember being completely grossed out by it at first but now I knew it was going to be needed to get him familiar with my body.

Roscoe is not a big dog – he is medium sized. I looked at his little brown cock – the pink tip had started to emerge like a lipstick as he panted and sniffed.

I teased him and wiggled my ass for him to coax him to get on my back but the dog stood there stupefied. I wondered if the Waxerman boys would have done the same. They like to look and even touch but would they have known what to do unless I told them exactly how to fuck me?

Today one of them got so close to my asshole that he watched me breathing and said that every time I breathed in he could see my pussy lips move in time. The fact is weeks ago I would have been shocked and horrified that anyone much less a teenage boy younger than my daughter had that kind of access to my body. I would have probably felt uncomfortable if Bill had shown that much interest in me – instead, I just let him get as close as he wanted and continued to breathe.

I teased them and used white alert on them the way Bill liked. I think he secretly gets excited when other men use my body – at least I hope so because if not and his jealousy is real, this is probably driving him crazy. He has to act a little jealous – how else would I know he really still wants me?

I had told them “Aww boys, I missed you too,” and kidded them as they stood around me staring down at me while I was splayed out with the enema bottle safely up my ass. It still boggles my mind that I can face even the most absurd situation when I apply a little humor and a grain of salt.

They clamored around me and asked me about my enema and how long I had to have it up my butt.

“Until my son comes back and lets me take it out, Sir” I replied to their giggles. They were no strangers to getting enemas under Mrs. Waxerman but the fact a grown woman was having to do it – outside in the nude seemed to delight them to no end and I had to answer the same question a few times before they got tired of hearing me admit it to them.

“Do you like enemas?” one of the boys asked me thoughtfully.

“No sir, do you?” I replied honestly.

“No, I hate them!” he made no secret of it. “Especially when she puts the tonic and hot sauce in them!” he growled.

“Mine is my breast milk,” I can’t believe I offered that without them asking. I chalked it up to white alert since they giggled about it anyway.

They still call me Mrs. Taylor which is some consolation to being known as ‘Cow Tits’. It is strange that they seem to respect me as an authority figure and at the same time enjoy watching me grovel and spread myself like this and not find that incongruent with what grown up authority figures do.

They asked me a few more questions mostly as an excuse to stare at my body and I just blushed and played along with the polite charade. They were probably interested on some level but I knew they were dirty little boys who liked to talk about butts and farts and boobies from past experience – so it wasn’t like I was corrupting the innocent even if they did look like extras from a Duffy Moon TV afternoon special.

These boys were so completely out of touch with most kids their age. They wore striped t-shirts and had crew cuts – they probably had no idea what Pokemon or Nintendo DS was. They seemed to be ripped out of another time and place entirely than the one we presently live in.

In a way I could respect Mrs. Waxerman’s attempts to keep them back in that time – a simpler time.

The laughter and giggles were adding to my difficulty holding the enema between my cheeks. I would never have been able to last this long if not for the daily enemas we had been getting –sometimes more than once in a day to have built up the tolerance.

I cannot always tell the boys apart but I think it was Jimmy who bent down and started pressing on my rib cage with two fingers on either side of my body.

“Please don’t make me laugh, Sir” I begged but I was already chuckling as he tickled me.

“Wha-eye?” he drew the question of why out teasingly as he played chopsticks like my ribs were keys on a piano.

“Please, please no,” I begged and I could feel the enema bottle drop while the other two boys egged him on. It was then I knew this was going to get messy. They clearly had teased each other before when they had taken enemas because the standing boys both backed up.

“Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo,” I remember saying as my sphincter first tightened, spasmed and then exploded. I didn’t look but from their comments about how white the liquid it was – there wasn’t much shit left in my ass at all.

They laughed as hard as they could as I finished expelling the breast milk and I even pissed at the same time – I could not control it. I remember my nipples hardening and my entire body getting tight and I just let go.

They made “Friippppppppp” farting sounds to remind me of how absolutely disgusting the mess I had just made was and the sound my ass made when it happened. “Thanks guys, I get it” I laughed in shame – what else could I do? These boys loved farty noises and this was their occasion to demonstrate their creativity while making me feel lower than a grasshoppers knee.

My hands were still cuffed behind my back and I was supposed to wait like I was.

“Oooh, you gonna get in trouble?” Jimmy asked me – there was a hopeful yet condescending note to his voice like he wanted me to be punished.

“Yes sir, I probably will. Do you mind telling my son what just happened?”

That was about twenty minutes before I started to get worried they were not coming back. I heard some booty music come on and then shut off really fast. Then I heard them playing a loud shit-kicking country tune and I thought I heard laughter. I could only imagine what they were doing in there while I stayed outside trying to get the enema bottle back in.

That is about the time my mind wandered to Roscoe. I had already French kissed the dog and I knew what was coming - if I could do it on my own terms before being ordered, it would be easier when it came. I told myself that.

I also told myself I was crazy for not telling Bill I would be his whore and even let him beat my ass but I wouldn’t be fucking the family dog. I should stand my ground I told myself.

Then I told myself they would attach a bunch of weights to my pussy – and rightly so since I didn’t obey and I’d never get out of my agreement to serve.

Then I imagined what it might be like to be an old gramma with nothing on but high heels and a dog collar baking pies when Jamie and Chris’s family comes over for thanksgiving – still in servitude to my husband. I pictured myself kindly letting my grandkids lick the batter off the spoon of whatever I was cooking. In my mind, I looked a lot like Mrs. Wilson the neighbor in Dennis the Menace comic strips as an old woman – only naked.

I wrestled with about a dozen other twisted ideas, vignettes, scenes and questions that include both the defense of them and the counter point reason not to do them. In the end, I decided to go ahead and try to entice Roscoe to fuck me.

I was secretly hoping he may not want to do it and I would not have to do it.

That was about the time he got on my back and started to fuck me.

He didn’t get his cock all the way in, mind you – but he was horny and he smelled my wet pussy and he didn’t mind I had just shit all over the patio – he did that too.

I was able to lift him up on to my back so he was closer to the hole he was supposed to be in - even with my wrists cuffed behind my back. I stretched and stretched myself to help him actually get his cock in me. I remember feeling his slimy dog cock and the odd shape and thinking it reminded me of a breakfast link – a gross, smooth, breakfast link with a very pointy end.

I stretched some more until I pulled a muscle and charlie-horsed my leg. Chris would laugh his ass off when my leg muscle spasmed and I couldn’t move after he had us do some exercise- I guess this is the price of getting old because Jamie never got them. My stomach muscles were tight and I felt myself starting to slip unable to hold myself up any longer. I could not get any leverage – I was kneeling somewhat face first with my hands cuffed behind me so I had nothing on my upper body but my tits to keep me from being flat on the ground.

I was flat on the ground and now I couldn’t move due to the extreme cramp that was in my leg that had spread to my back.

Roscoe for his part had not managed to slip the tip of his dick into me.

That was until I managed to accidentally pin him under my arms. I was trying to help him up on my back into position and he struggled and got stuck under my handcuffs and arm. He yelped and then struggled and his paws bit into my back – he needs his nails trimmed!

Then he adjusted himself and wriggled before he realized he was just as stuck as I was. I suppose he decided to make the best of it as that is when I felt him enter me.

I want to reiterate that fucking my son yesterday was one of the most taboo and indecent things I thought any mom could do.

That was until today when I willingly and knowingly allowed my dog to climb up on my bare back with the intention of letting him fuck me.

He wasn’t in there hard and he wasn’t in there securely but he was in there and he started to fuck himself back and forth.

At first, I barely even felt the squirmy little cock as it darted in and out but it grew. I felt the warmth of his cum as he fucked me to fruition and then the little bastard bit my back hard and began to struggle. I later learned that he had ‘knotted’ me – his cock had grown in size around the base in such a way that he could not pull out without tearing me open.

I could feel the warm cum inside me pooling and starting to drizzle down my thigh – but there was no budging this doggy off my back.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit” I felt a sudden wave of sobriety wash over me – wondering why did I ever do this?

Why did I not wait until I had to do it? I couldn’t undo what I had done but I instantly regretted and felt ashamed of encouraging this.

Then it started to occur to me what kind of punishment I was probably in for once they caught me like this. The enema bottle dropping out of my ass seemed like really small potatoes by comparison. This was not going to go well for me.

If I could roll onto my back I cold free Roscoe and get myself righted again. I hadn’t quite figured out yet that he and I were biologically joined and connected by the laws of how puppy-cocks work. He yelped and whined because he was wedged between my elbows and wrists and I was about to crush him by rolling over on to him. I stopped myself and remained as I was.

“Roscoe, get off mommy, huh?” I whispered to him in the baby-voice I used to talk to him in before any of this began as if he could understand my command. I could hear him breathing and panting – pictured his smiling dog face with his tongue hanging out. He was probably completely oblivious to how humiliating it was going to be if I got caught this way.

Then it dawned on me – I had made it.

I am in the club.

I am a “Doggy Fucker”. One of the rare breed of total sluts who can honestly say they fucked a dog and there is no way to erase that from my ‘permanent record’. I’ve officially gone as low as one can go and there is no undoing it.

As I thought about this new low in my life - I felt a sharp pain of liquid guilt ride down my spine and into my leg where my Charlie horse had been. The fresh wave of intense humiliation had managed though to take my mind off my sore leg cramp.

I started to revisit those five stages of grief again.

One: Denial — "I did not just do this. I did not just encourage my dog to fuck me. What am I thinking?”

Two: Anger — "Why did I do this? Get this dog off me! What is wrong with his cock that he won’t get off no matter how much I wiggle and buck!”

Three: Bargaining — "I'll just let him stay like this for another minute, then I will make him get off of me. They were going to make me do this anyway, I was just getting used to it! I will just be a good girl and admit what I did wrong and then offer to do it again – they can’t be mad then right?”

Four: Depression — "I am in so much deep doo-doo when they come out here and they ARE going to come out here any moment now I just know it. I should never have done this."

Five: Acceptance — I had not reached this stage quite yet. I was still dealing with the tears that had welled up in my eyes from step four. The sliding glass door opened right before I got here- FUCK!

‘Swerrrrrrrpppp’ the sound of the metal of the sliding glass door gliding open was jarring. I had learned to fear it like a mouse fears the kitchen light in the middle of the night. I felt my tummy do back flips.

Chris and Bill walked out calmly and asked me why Roscoe was on top of me. They told me it had all been a disgusting joke and helped him out of me very gently.

Then Chris did the nicest thing – he went and got me a glass of wine.

I was about to thank him when I realized I had been fantasizing about that last bit after I panicked. My husband was standing over me asking “What the fuck? Can you explain yourself Cow tits?” while the Waxerman boys laughed and jeered under the domineering nose of their Aunt.

I started to rock back and forth. I was in that ‘denial’ stage because I just started to whisper over and over ‘oh no, this cannot be happening, oh no this cannot be happening.’ Tears had begun to stream out of my eyes.

It finally dawned on me, as the tears poured out of my sad clown face, that THIS was reality and not some twisted dream and Roscoe had been humping my ass.

“What are you doing, Cow Tits?” Bill sounded amused and outraged – I didn’t even register the tone. I was too much in absolute mind-fuck mode to even process what was happening right now. The voices of the boys seemed to escalate the intensely humiliating feeling and echo in my head.

The look of disapproval on Mrs. Waxerman’s face was more intense than anything I had ever seen before – everything felt magnified like a searing, tightly focused beam of pure and utter humiliation burning through my chest into my heart and all down my spine.

“It is a long story Sir, please, please help me get HIM out of ME?” I was wiggling my ass- not in a sexy way but more to shake the damned dog loose! I was crying and sounded pathetic I am sure of that. My mind was warped at this point –panic had truly set in and I was willing to say or do anything to get him off of me –but I could not think straight any longer.

When people say “I don’t know why I did that, I just lost it” I really never had an appreciation for what that meant until this particular moment in my life – even though I thought I had before.

“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?’” Bill was doing white alert with me. He wanted me to say that I had thought of this on my own – and in a weird way I actually had jumped the gun and done that.

I just did not want to admit it. I was not in a joking mood - making Waxerman lose her shit was secondary because right now I was losing mine.

I gave Bill a glance that I hoped he would take for “I am not fucking around - Please Bill, drop the white alert and help get this dog out of me.”

“Bill, please? I can’t do this, please get him off me? Please? Please?” when my glance didn’t work I just dropped all pretense of protocol and honestly begged and pleaded with him. The Dog’s dick was throbbing in me and I could feel his paws and breath on my back as he struggled to free himself as well. The poor little guy had no idea all these people were around and he was probably wanting to get down and sniff them or get them to pet his head.

Bill wasn’t letting me out of the protocol at all. I swallowed my pride while the Waxerman boys chuckled and tried to get myself together – this was happening and I needed to deal with it now.

Mrs. Waxerman just shook her head and made a ‘tsk, tsk, tsk’ sound. If she had a pink night gown on she would have been just like that little girl I call “Nasty” back at the motel – everything to her is disgusting but she stands right in the middle of it gawking and judging.

“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 was offering some kind of friendly advice to Bill and implying I was insane.

I had to picture what kind of crazy back-home hillbilly world produced Mrs. Waxerman. Then again would a sanitarium be so far out of the question for a woman who willingly has sex with dogs? I am not talking about the strangers on the street variety either – but real puppies and beagles?

Bill was doing his strong and silent routine. I could see the bemusement in his eyes as I looked up at him. Easy for him to laugh – he didn’t have the family pet literally inside him and stuck to his back.

He bent down slowly and tried to free Roscoe gently. “Well, I’ll be, he doesn’t want to let go.” Bill was trying to sound like a wise old country gentleman. I am sure he was imitating Wilford Brimley from those oatmeal ‘Diabetes’ commercials when he talks about ‘Liberty Medical and Liberty Medical supplies’.

“He can’t Sir,” I bit my lip. I was in no mood to feed the white alert monster we had created with the Waxermans. I just wanted him off of me but I knew the more I explained the more it made things worse.

Naturally it wasn’t – Bill was going to be a stickler. That should have been no surprise after all that we have been through the past weeks but it was.

“Can you ask them to go back inside Sir?” I had only just noticed the naked girl standing in the background. She had her hands behind her back and the first thing I noticed about her was that she was the older sister to the three Waxerman boys.

I can tell you that I should have been more taken by surprise than I was by that but given the circumstance I was really focused on myself.

My mind spun a thousand reasons why the girl who had been flirting with my son at the pool party was naked in my backyard - It certainly explained the booty music earlier.

She seemed like a beautiful, freckle faced country girl with long black hair and strikingly beautiful blue eyes. I noticed how perfect and smooth her skin was and was admittedly a little envious. I also noticed she had pink marks all over her body from being hit with what I can only assume was a ruler because one of the Waxerman boys was still holding it in his hot little hands and I assumed he wasn’t measuring things with it.

“Please? Whatever you guys are doing in there?” I started to say something to Bill about the girl but I thought better of it. At this stage nothing should really shock me about the Waxermans but I have to admit I was kind of curious why Mrs. Waxerman had allowed her favorite niece to parade around naked.

“I have grinned and bared them seeing me do almost every disgusting thing you made me do, but this is more than they should see.” I decided to appeal to Bill’s sense of decency. It was one thing to have the attitude ‘boys will be boys’ and let them watch a PG-13 movie like caddyshack where the hot girl shows her boobs. I could totally get on board with that because I was a teenager once myself.

I had even been able to rationalize the fact that when they saw Jamie and I outside ‘sunbathing’ that we probably were not the only women who were sunbathing outside topless or naked behind the safety of privacy fences. I felt like a sexy MILF from one of those PG-13 ‘American Pie’ films that the main characters peek on and I had been okay with it – it had been fairly harmless.

I think up to the point I got to “Watching me fucking a dog” that I could bend reality enough to find a way to take it all with a grain of salt. I just wanted the Waxerman boys out – possibly more because they would not stop laughing and jeering and intensifying my humiliation than I did to save them from seeing the intensely, disturbing thing I had been doing if I had to really speak to my motivations.

Mrs. Waxerman agreed with me “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.”

I assumed as arbitrary as she was that she would naturally disagree with me. However, she is a bible thumper and I guess if it was in the Bible and it said something about kicking my ass then she was going to get on board with that. I almost laughed when I came to that realization if this wasn’t so ridiculous a situation.

Chris was standing behind the naked girl as if he were in charge of her as well. The thought flashed through my mind “Oh no, are they going to make her a whore like Jamie and I?”

Bill stopped them before they left. “Your boys have already seen, you can clearly tell the Dog is fornicating with my wife,” Bill was clearly still doing white alert or else he would not have used the word ‘fornicate’ to appeal to the crazy old bitch. “Or should I say that she was fornicating with him as I don’t think it was Mr. Roscoe’s idea was it?” he asked me.

“No sir,” he had me on that one and I tried to surpass a pout.

“Not so proud of what you were doing out here now that you’ve been caught?” Bill tried to cheer me up by tickling my nipple playfully – does he not understand I have a DOG DICK INSIDE MY PUSSY AND IT WON’T COME OUT?

“You are ALERT to the fact that the FENCE needs painted white?” Could he hit Mrs. Waxerman over the head with a bigger sign that he was trying to hint that I needed to play along under the rules of white alert? Surely, even she could not be so oblivious that she thought Bill wasn’t trying to send me a not-so-secret message?

Bill had emphasized the word ‘fence’ instead of ‘white’ and unless he meant I should try to hop it and run the fuck away – I assumed he meant white alert. I did not want to play a long – all the humor of this ridiculous situation was lost on me.

Gordon started sounding out the words on my back. I could tell right away that my prediction Chris had written something other than ‘I heart my dog’ on the small of my back was true. “Dogg…Doggy Fucker? Doggy Fucker!! Ahahahahah” was what he said when he figured it out.

I began to wiggle and wriggle and probably jiggle – anything to get this dog off my back. I distinctly heard my son whisper to his father “Is the tip in or is Roscoe all the WAY inside?” but I didn’t hear his father’s answer.

The truth is – my pussy was so wet and dripping that I wasn’t entirely sure how far in he was. I just knew I could not get him out and it scared me. I wasn’t horny or turned on by any stretch of the imagination but the intense humiliation and fear I was feeling had sent signals to my body that made my nipples extra hard, my pussy wet and to be honest my asshole to start puckering.

Chris had made me do exercises to wink my pussy and ass almost every day for thirty minutes or more and now those muscles were flexing in time with my panic.

“You are going to be knotted for about 20 or 30 minutes if the animal gave you his seed,” Mrs. Waxerman said very distinctly and plainly. I was not sure how she knew that but the news only made me want to buck him off harder.

I believed her even though I did not want to believe her. I was not ready to calm down and wait.

“You will not repeat the filth written on Cow-tit’s back again!” Mrs. Waxerman addressed Gordon. I had never heard her call me ‘Cow Tits’ before this. I might have laughed that I had just scored some kind of breakthrough in the silent game we play had it been a regular white alert situation.

My son had compared white alert to Jenga. That game where you stack little wooden blocks precariously until they all collapse. The goal is to keep stacking higher so they never collapse and when you run out of blocks you can call out ‘Jenga’.

It felt a little like I had just stacked the blocks higher than anyone else – and I would have been amused if I wasn’t so completely blanketed in humiliation and shame for being seen this way.

I could feel my face turning a deep shade of red from the intense embarrassment I was feeling. The morning sun had risen and its heat was beating down on my still well-tanned body and I could hear Roscoe panting on my back. He was probably completely unaware there was anything wrong with what he was doing and just happy for the attention he was getting.

The more I thought about it – the more my nipples felt distended and hard. I pushed my boobs down onto the cement of the patio so they too would not be a subject of scorn from Mrs. Waxerman – and my son and husband had nothing else to mock me with.

“Do you see this wretched and vile woman?” Mrs. Waxerman pulled Delilah to her. The naked girl’s small breasts bounced slightly. I could definitely tell now that she had her hands bound behind her back.

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

“This is your future, do you want that?” Mrs. Waxerman asked her niece. In a strange way I was relieved to be an object lesson in avoiding doing what I was doing and at the same time offended to be an object lesson about choices I had made - I probably deserved to be though.

“If you continue in your wickedness you will end up just like this harlot!” Mrs. Waxerman’s voice was very serious – and I did not doubt there was a trace of hyperbole to her meaning.

“No Ma’am, I do not.” The naked teenage girl seemed like she might be in tears. I had seen her be sassy and wink at my son before – it was strange to see her be so vulnerable. I wondered if that is how people had seen me after I changed from high powered executive to dumb little slut.

“Are you sure? Because I could leave you here with the Taylor family to let you roll around with beasts LIKE this… this whore of satan. Would you not enjoy being like this unrepentant, prideful, utterly irredeemable and shameless slut?” Mrs. Waxerman was clearly talking to her niece but her words were directed at me.

I have to admit when we did white alert it took away some of Mrs. Waxerman’s ability to make me feel like shit. I think maybe without realizing it – our little game had insulated me from concern about what this old lady felt. It made her powerless to hurt me with her words.

Now that I was not playing white alert they stung fresh as I heard her say them. She could make an Eskimo feel guilty for turning on a space heater and I knew that almost no one ever lived up to her impossibly high standards – well except for my husband it seems.

“No Ma’am, I would not.” Delilah shook her head no, in agreement with her Aunt. I got a look at the girl’s perfectly rounded rump –they had been spanking her inside our house.

“Farty butt hurry and get your clothes on and ask your brothers to handcuff you so that we can go back home!”

I almost laughed that she addressed her niece that way. If I had to guess, the boys had some hand in coming up with that name.

She had a look on her face of total disgust with the name – but no defiance. I was surprised at how easily it seemed she had accepted it.

I have to admit I was secretly thankful for the chance to take my mind off the panting dog locked inside of me by the knot of his cock and trapped under my arms behind my back.

Everyone else outside laughed when they heard Mrs. Waxerman say the word ‘Farty Butt’. I think it just sounded so ridiculous that it was a good release valve for the intense scrutiny and humiliation I was under. My son escorted the cuffed, naked girl back inside while the others kept their eyes glued to me.

“So you must be happy you get to take a break outside for the next thirty minutes and avoid house work, huh?” My husband said to break the awkward silence.

I almost laughed at how ridiculous that sounded. I wanted to sarcastically agree that yes, I had planned to avoid some house work all along as part of my nefarious scheme to fuck the dog and stay on all fours naked in the yard because I am so lazy.

Then I realized I was under white alert and I was supposed to say things like that.

“Yes Sir, you found me out. I did not want to clean up before people came to start buying things so that you would not be able to sell my favorite things. I thought fucking Roscoe outside was the only way you would let me stay out here where I enjoy it.” I almost panicked towards the end and let my voice crack. That was such a lie I could not believe I had even said it.

I also could not believe the Waxermans even bought it.

“You sure is lazy, Mrs. Taylor” Gordon was the first one to speak after the pregnant pause from my false admission of guilt.

His brother punched him on the arm with two knuckles – I had come to learn that is what they call a ‘frogger punch’. “It’s cow tits, did you not hear Mr. Taylor?”

“Oh Sorry Ma’am, I meant to say Cow Tits” Gordon apologized to me.

“No offense taken, Sir” I have to admit – I said that with a smile to the boy at how over the top and naive it was he was apologizing so sincerely for forgetting to call me something so nasty and offensive. I truly love the Pooper Snoopers. If not for them, it may have been really awful being discovered this way but I think they let me see this situation with a sense of humor.

“My wife has such an attitude problem,” Bill pretended to be powerless to stop me from disrupting his life and being such a terrible wife. “I knew she loved black cock and Mexican dick, but I had no idea she loved dog cock. How long have you been seeing Roscoe behind my back?” He asked trying to coax me to play along. I could see Mrs. Waxerman’s eyes flick over to him in disgust at how he asked the question.

I suppose it was up to me to see his raise and call – or whatever they do in poker when they up the ante. I could not leave Bill hanging as the one who talked the most nastily around here and ruin his perfect reputation for him.

I relaxed my mind and calmed myself down. I was in this impossible situation and I guess I was skipping past bargaining, denial, anger and acceptance and going straight to ‘joking around about it’.

“You know I love all kinds of cocks – big ones, little ones, nigger dicks,” I stopped myself on that word – it sounded awful but there was quiet from what I was saying as I looked at the ground. “I made Chris write how much I love dog cock to show off to our neighbors and embarrass you – because your cock is not enough for me.”

Bill was quiet for a while and I kept my eyes focused on the dirty cement under me. I did not want to look up for fear that I may lose my nerve.

I was glad I did because I was not prepared for what Bill said next.

“I just don’t know what to do with you,” He spit on the ground near my face. “I suppose you want me to parade you to all the neighbors and show them what a whore you are, huh?” Bill was being sarcastic but it was clear he was also prodding me to agree with him. My husband is a lot of things – but a great actor he is not.

“Yes Sir, I would love it. Can you invite them over so they can watch me wiggle around with all this doggy spunk in me,” to be honest I wasn’t sure if Roscoe had came or not – but it stood to reason since part of his cock had grown four sizes larger and I couldn’t get him out. I bucked a little to make it seem like I was enjoying this situation.

“I should make you go next door to each of our neighbors and apologize for being such a rotten housekeeper, neighbor and wife for all these years before we move!” Bill sounded a bit too believable to me when he said that about me – but I was probably reading too much into it. He just was a terrible actor which made his believable performances stand out a little bit more.

“I would like to see you make me,” I lied. The thought of doing white alert to our more normal neighbors scared the crap out of me. The only one I could see doing that with who wouldn’t totally freak out was Van and my husband was a little jealous of him – so that probably wasn’t going to happen anyway. This was just another of the things Bill liked to say to play with Mrs. Waxerman.

“You keep forgetting to call me Sir, I am the man of the house still! And if I demand you apologize to them you will.” Bill said defiantly – but with a trace of powerlessness to his voice.

“You can’t even make me apologize to Mrs. Waxerman who has been the epitome of Christian kindness and charity, SIR.” I said Sir as if I were mocking him. This was all part of our game and he knew it. I was smiling with my face pointing straight down at the cement – this was taking my mind off the dog cock buried in my twat. I added “You are too busy looking at Delilah’s pretty pussy to worry about me anyway, SIR.” I played with him.

I thought I might have crossed the line mentioning her niece because now Mrs. Waxerman chimed in. “I would thank you to refer to her as Farty Butt,” even she was uncomfortable saying that “As we call you Cow Tits in kind, or you can say Salome’ which is her new name in mixed company.”

I wondered what the hell had happened in the house that all of this was decided - It sounded like quite a story!

“Sorry Ma’am, thank you. I prefer to be called Cow Tits. It makes me feel like I am appreciated for my sweater meat.” I only knew sweater meat from the times Chris’s friends remarked on it when they talked about me. I was sure they used to say it before this happened behind my back but they were able to say it right in front of me now.

Again, I wondered if that was going to change after this was all over – I was kind of flattered on some level that his friends thought I was a ‘sexy MILF’ – “Mom I would like to fuck”

“You think it’s wrong of me to look at this little teenage fluff and yet you show your ass to whoever wants to see it? You stopped wearing panties and bras!” Bill was pretending it had been my idea to stop doing that. I suppose now it was since I had insisted they keep the discipline in place to keep us whoring. I was getting confused as to what my story was supposed to be with Mrs. Waxerman – but the good news about that was it didn’t really have to make sense. The more we could pile on in front of her about our escapades the more she got infuriated – which was the goal.

“Yes I do SIR” I said sir as if I was forced to say it but didn’t really believe I had too. “Your daughter and I tease and flirt around this house all day long and yet you look at that pretty, little country girl? It makes me jealous!” I wondered if he would appreciate me pretending to be jealous for a change.

“You nasty little bitch, if you PLEASED as much as you TEASED maybe I would not have to look at a hot little number like Farty Butt’s perfect little ass!” Bill sounded delighted to play the arguing married couple when I took it in this direction. The poor girl wasn’t outside to hear us argue about her– but I kept looking straight down so that I didn’t accidentally break character and laugh at how ridiculous we sounded.

“I pleased Roscoe didn’t I?” It nearly killed me to say that out loud and hear it in my own voice escaping my lips even if I was kidding. No one else noticed my entire body quaking with disgust – or if they did they said nothing. I kept my tone light and playful but inside I was disgusted with myself.

“Yes, and the niggers and Mexicans down on Martin Luther King Boulevard but you don’t do your wifely duties around here!” Bill reminded me of that old comedian Jackie Mason playing the kvetching husband joking about his unfaithful wife.

“Oh you love it,” I teased playfully. “You love to watch me suck stranger’s cocks. It turns you on doesn’t it SIR?” I couldn’t see Bill’s face but I thought I may have said something that struck a nerve or rang true because he became quiet. I could hear only the sound of the boy’s muffled giggles.

“You precocious little cum gobbler,” Bill finally spoke and with it the giggles became less muffled. “You would have the audacity to get jealous over me seeing that flat-chested little girl or what I am looking at on my computer, when you flaunt yourself around and show off your goodies to whoever wants to see. Take a good look boys, this is my whore wife and her big fat titties, like what you see?” there was a tiny nugget of truth buried under Bill’s playful kidding.

He did get jealous at times or maybe he was pretending at times to get jealous for my benefit – I can honestly say though I had no real concern about him seeing Delilah naked. After all we have been through it would take a lot more than that for something to come between our marriage.

I had fucked strangers, friends, even his son – he had been faithful. This was all pretend make believe for the benefit of the Waxermans.

“I wouldn’t expect a hussy like you to understand. Your husband did not stare at her.” Mrs. Waxerman defended Bill. The more I pushed back on Bill the more she wanted to defend him and that was kind of a good thing.

“Don’t try to explain it to Cow Tits. She gets jealous if I even look in the direction of a pretty woman.” I don’t know if Bill was looking at Mrs. Waxerman longingly to suggest she was pretty – but if he was that would have been a Jenga in our little white alert game – I secretly hoped he thought of giving her a suggestive look.

“I have to put up with her fucking all sorts of strangers, but she can’t stand for me to look at another woman,” Bill was talking to Mrs. Waxerman about me – and I was waiting for my chance to chime back in like the nympho wife who loved this.

“Oh you love watching me blow strangers, besides I let you keep the money I earn when your daughter and I work the streets.” I could hear Victoria gasp when I admitted that out loud. The boys were still giggling.

“That is because you are terrible with money and it was you who lost us the house!” Bill was too serious for the white alert game we were playing. I could tell there was some half-truth and underlying anger in his voice.

“Why can’t he punish you, Mrs. Cow Tits?” Gordon asked me politely.

I giggled at how polite and respectfully he addressed me. “It is just Cow Tits if you please Gordon, Mrs. Cow Tits was my mother.” I joked.

“Oh she was?” Gordon asked innocently. My mom was actually a wonderful but stern Christian woman – but in so many ways different than Mrs. Waxerman. I decided not to tempt karma by feeding into the white alert and involving my mom in our fabrication.

“He can’t punish me because Roscoe is on my ass, so there is no place for him to spank!” I ignored his comment about my mom and jokingly answered his question with a smart-ass tone in my voice while wiggling my butt.

Roscoe for his part chose that moment on my back to sneeze one of those quick dog sneezes as if to agree with me – which made everyone giggle except for Bill.

“I CAN punish you.” He insisted. He was speaking slowly and using only a few words. Bill had been playing the good, accommodating husband who couldn’t control his wife earlier – but now he was doing his ‘strong and silent’ act. I know it is an act because I’ve been married to the man since high school and he pulls it out when he needs it.

“I know you COULD,” I wiggled my ass “But first you need to get this little doggy off my big fat ass if you want to spank me Sir” I was trying to tease him into helping me get the dog out of me while being true to the spirit of the ‘white alert’ game he liked us to play.

Bill took it as a personal challenge.

“Hey Dad, did you hear McDonald’s has new McFishBites? They are like McNuggets only with fish,” Chris had obviously just heard something on TV and repeated it.

He had emerged from the sliding glass door at that particular moment to let the Waxermans know Delilah was dressed and ready for them. He was also completely unsurprised they were still standing over me while this game played out.

“Chris, can you go inside and get the splints for your mother?” Bill asked his son.

“Those chopstick looking things?” Chris laughed and his father told him to bring them all. “I am not saying my mom’s a slut, but if her cunt had a password it would be 1234.” He added and happily strutted off to retrieve them.

“No sir, please, not the chopsticks of doom!” I had worn the little wooden slats he was talking about before on my breasts. They really didn’t hurt that bad. It was white alert so I was allowed to ham it up but in truth I wasn’t scared at all of them.

I could hear the Waxerman boys repeat my words with a hint of awe and anticipation – those little stinkers were looking forward to me wearing them.

“Do you see what I put up with?” Bill was addressing the Waxermans. “Do you understand why I prefer cock shoved down her mouth so I don’t have to listen to how she talks to me?” Bill’s joke received some guffaws and giggles from the Waxermans. “It’s too bad you have to go now, or you could watch me punish her for getting caught fucking the family dog.”

“I think we’ve seen quite enough as it is,” Mrs. Waxerman sounded her retreat – one of us must have tipped over the Jenga blocks to make her turn and leave without staying to witness my punishment. “We should leave before you corrupt anymore of us like you did Delilah, I mean Salome’, I mean Farty Butt!” the boys laughed at her forgetting the proper name for her niece before she could shush them properly.

“Are you sure? This is a good punishment for your sister?” Bill’s fake enthusiasm for them to stay reminded me of the time he tried to convince my mom and father to hang out with us after we were first married. “Oh please stay!” the subtext of which was “So you can delay my wife and I having sex on our honeymoon!”

Had they done so Chris would not have been born nine months later and be standing in front of me with a big grin and some wooden splints he wanted to attach to my chest. “Oh are they going? I had another one. I am not saying my mom is a slut, but she has had more balls in her mouth than hungry, hungry hippos” he called after the Waxermans as they walked off the patio.

Chris laughed and called out the Waxermans once they were out of ear shot “You find it offensive? I find it funny.”

When they were gone I breathed a sigh of relief. “I did white alert Sir,” I said in a very submissive and respectful tone. “Now will you PLEASE help get Roscoe out of me, please?” I begged. I had done everything and more that my husband could have expected – surely he would help me.

“What? After your son took the time to walk and get those splints for you?” Bill answered me sadistically. I am sure my face going from hopeful to hopeless only amused him more.

“Sir, please, that was all pretend for their benefit. You know I don’t really think any of those things?” I implored him – I was still freaked out about Roscoe and now that the joking had passed I was starting to panic again.

“You are getting a little too uppity for your own good. I still don’t know what all this,” he pointed to Roscoe “was about but I know you don’t want to question a punishment, do you?” Bill folded his arms.

“No Master,” I knew I would get punished anyway – even if I was confused about the exact lesson being taught with the punishment. My husband pulled me upright by my hair so that I was still on my knees – Roscoe yelped because he was still trapped behind me.

Chris fastened two of the wooden splints to each of my nipples and tightened them down to bind them – squishing them in between two thin pieces of wood no wider than Emory boards. I made a face of pain as they crushed my nipples and forced my piercings to stick straight out.

“Stick out your tongue, slut” Bill slapped the back of my head. I did as I was instructed and waited for my son to treat my tongue the way he did my nipples. I had done this before and it hurt but it wasn’t the end of the world. I just accepted what was happening to me.

Then Chris did something I did not expect.

He fingered my clit ring and started to play with me. I looked down but he smacked my jaw playfully so I had to look straight ahead while holding my tongue out.

“You know I would think with big tits like this you couldn’t even see what I was doing – sort of like a blind spot” Chris joked.

His dad held my tits apart and said “Naw, she has enough cleavage she can peak down at her toes every now and then” as he lifted and separated my chest for his son’s amusement.

Chris started playing with my clit more intensely and using his finger to rub into my pee-hole. If I hadn’t had my hands bound behind me I am positive I would have tried to stop him twice because it was driving me absolutely crazy.

I would imagine it’s the feeling a man has if someone tried to stick a toothpick down his pecker hole. Chris was poking and prodding and Roscoe was yelping as he helplessly flailed around on my back – unable to separate from me.

I grunted but I couldn’t say anything with the splint on my tongue – not that it would have changed their minds.

That is when I finally felt the splint Chris had in mind for my clit. It bit down as it squished my clit and exerted pressure to make it go flat.

“It looks like mom has a little dick,” Chris said. Bill held my tits apart so I could look down and see what he was talking about. Chris had managed to pull my clitoris inside out so that it looked like a little cock head and the nerve endings that were normally hidden inside were fully exposed and smashed under bound wooden splints.

I tried to breathe through my nose as the new sensation washed over me.

“She is pissing, oh my gawd” Chris gasped.

“That’s not piss son, your mom is squirting.” Bill explained. He was right – I’ve never done that before. I didn’t even know that was a thing.

“Shit just got insta-real!” Chris laughed.

“Yes it did, son. I’ve never seen her do that before. It’s like old faithful gushing.” Bill laughed and I wondered if I was going to turn purple because I was already a deep shade of red.

I knew I was swollen and aroused – but oh my god, this was like nothing I had ever felt before and I shamelessly sprayed myself all over Roscoe’s cock and down my leg.

The walls of my vagina were spasming in a way I had never experienced and lack the ability to even describe. I suppose this is what men feel when they orgasm. I was panting and all at once deeply aroused and embarrassed.

“Check out mom’s Twitter” Chris reached between my legs and tickled me as I was helplessly spasming.

“Twitter?” Bill asked. I had heard of the website that you blog in 144 characters on but I had no idea what my son was saying either.

“Yah, between the twat and the shitter” He fingered the little space of flesh between both. I have to admit I almost laughed and that caused me to leak more ‘mom juice’ as he called it.

He pulled on the base of Roscoe’s dick with his fingers and laughed. “Yep, you got it lodged in there pretty good.” Then he petted his dog and calmed him down and forced me back on all fours.

I couldn’t pull my tongue back into my mouth. My nipples were screaming something between pain and pleasure and my clit was the loudest of all – it was almost completely unbearable.

The guys laughed and fist bumped while walking back inside – ignoring my spasming orgasm.

I heard Bill ask “You think her asshole was puckering when you fingered her twitter?”

“Who cares?” Chris answered and with that the schwipp of the sliding glass doors closed as the men left me out there to wait out my punishment.