CHAPTER TEN

Reader’s Note: This is Joanne Swift’s journal, adapted for reading, detailing the events around October 8^th (Saturday) 2016 – as someone knocks on the door interrupting Taylor’s punishment.

Tom would have ignored the knocking entirely and just finished the remaining six swats.

However, Sandor began barking and jumping around the door anxiously. He loved to make a big fuss anytime someone rang the doorbell and he just would not stop.

“Janie.” Tom instructed his youngest to go answer the door and send, “any of your little friends away! It’s too late for them to come over anyway.”

I saw a very serious look on Taylor’s face as she began to realize the very real possibility that her father wasn’t kidding when he said that their friends may be allowed to come over. I thought my husband was probably kidding just to make the punishment more intense, and wouldn’t want the rumors and the possibility of needing to explain this to anyone else.

The kids had been the ones to suggest or ask about what happens if their friends came over. I think he’d always intended for this session to be the beginning and end of things, but as Taylor provoked him he’d extended it without really thinking about how we’d get through this for the next week.

Tom may have also assumed that, like my training, the punishment would be in a more private setting. Then, for all outward appearances, we would seem pretty normal and ‘vanilla’. ‘Vanilla’ is a BDSM code-word for what we were to all others – just an everyday family, like the ones you see on ‘Reba’ or ‘The Middle’ on Television.

Taylor may have been getting turned on by this treatment, and been just peachy with her butt hanging out in front of the family. However, she looked seriously uncomfortable as her younger sister ran towards the door, and the dog continued to bark, adding to the churning household chaos.

Tom insisted she look straight forward as he continued spanking her.

“If this is a bad time we can come back,” our neighbor said. It was Dave Vulgus and his wife Betty, followed by their grandson Marvin. Dave was in his late 50s and he had a military bearing about him. I could always tell because my father’s friends were all ex-military. They stood up straight and wore their hair the same way that Dave did.

His grandson was chewing gum and staring at a Nintendo DS screen he held in his hand, while simultaneously sipping from a juice box. He was so engrossed in the game he hadn’t noticed my daughter’s punishment when he walked in. Marvin was probably about Janie’s age, and she instantly recognized him from her middle school.

Once they entered the living room Marvin did what we used to call a ‘spit-take’. My family used to do them around the dinner table. We loved Danny Thomas when we were growing up and my brothers and I used to all see who could crack up our father around the dinner table.

I am sure my father would have been laughing when Marvin looked up once, twice, and then spit all his juice all over my daughter’s ass in a hysterical reaction to seeing her bare red bottom.

“No, uh...” Tom was actually caught off guard and at a loss for words.

“My dad is just spanking my ass, Sir,” Taylor spoke for him. “He should be done in a minute, but if you don’t mind wiping up that grape juice your son just spit all over my ass that would be fantastic!”

“He’s actually my grandson, and you must be Taylor?” Dave asked apologetically, and looked around for something to wipe her ass off with.

“I’ll go get it,” I volunteered even though I was already beet-red and humiliated as my kids sat snickering in the living room at the awkward situation. It was the perfect time to collect my thoughts in the kitchen while I got out of the room. I quietly thought about masturbating myself that night after Tom finished giving me what he gave her, and realized I was soaking wet as well.

I wiped myself off under the apron before getting a clean towel and returning.

I had only been gone a few minutes, but Taylor was already wiped off and standing at attention with her hands behind her head and her bare ass still showing.

The Vulgus family was seated on the other side of the living room from the couch, and our daughter’s ass was facing them as she waited. Tom had stuck a makeshift gag, in the form of a rag that had clearly been used to wipe off the grape juice, into her mouth to keep her from talking.

It turned out that Dave Vulgus was convinced my husband was spanking her because she’s blown off the babysitting. Tom had let him believe that, because it was easier than explaining he had yet to even address that and had ignored it himself. He was punishing her because she made me show my ass and shown a cell-phone video she had taken of us the night before – but Dave wasn’t made aware of that.

“You know, I was just telling my wife that if more people spanked their kids, we’d have less truancy and talking back,” he looked at his wife, “…from wives AND daughters!”

“What about sons?” Betty Vulgus said that their sons hadn’t paid back the money they owed him, were unemployed and smoked pot and played X-box all day.

Betty is blonde and feathered her hair the way cheerleaders did back in the 1980s. She was in her 50s with tits almost the same size as mine. She dressed and looked like the typical mid-western American but spoke with a stark German accent that made her seem a little harsh at times.

“Sure,” Dave agreed, and looked at Marvin with a gleam in his eye as if to scare the boy.

Marvin shrugged it off and alternated staring at my daughter’s pert bare butt and then down at his Nintendo game.

“You know, boy, there’s a girl’s bare butt in the room,” Dave whispered to his grandson in a way that was obviously meant as a joke and for the rest of us to hear. “You’re allowed to put down the video game and just look at it.”

Betty smacked him on the arm playfully.

“Where are my manners?” Tom asked if they wanted something to drink.

“No thanks, Tom.” Dave said that he couldn’t stay and that was part of the reason he came over. “You see, the thing we needed your daughter to babysit for got pushed back. I just came over to see if we could get her tonight and the rest of the week.”

“As you can see, I’m punishing her for what she’s done.” Tom said that he couldn’t let her go over to their house. “It’s just not possible,” he said.

“Well, why not? I’m no prude, Tom,” Dave asked, approving of Tom’s spanking. “I don’t have a problem with discipline at all.”

Betty smacked him on his arm again and told him he spoiled all his kids.

“My own kids? Sure,” Dave admitted, but added that back in his day if a kid fucked up in public then another parent would punish them before bringing them home to their parents and telling THEM what they did. “The parents all worked together!”

“I was just telling the same thing to my kids about how it worked back then.” Tom chuckled about his story.

“Can you two reminisce about the episode of ‘Leave It to Beaver’ where Wally got spanked by Whitey’s mom because Chucky sold him a bad catcher’s mitt or whatever later, Sir?” My daughter said that it should be up to her if she wants to babysit. “How much does it pay, Sir?” she asked bluntly spitting the rag out so that she could talk.

“I like how she just comes out and says what she means.” Dave smiled while addressing my husband and not her.

“Give it time,” Tom said sarcastically, implying that the novelty would wear off. Tom picked up the rag from the floor and glared at her. I could sense his frustration – this is why he used ball gags he could actually tie around my neck when we were in the bedroom.

“I was thinking something like 60 bucks a night to watch Marvin.” He explained he’d be home around 2 A.M., but that it could stretch until morning. “We have a guest room you can sleep in, and his bedtime is around nine, so most of that she could spend watching TV or texting. As long as the house doesn’t burn down, you’re fine.”

“Sounds good to me, Sir,” Taylor agreed, but then negotiated for a little more, “Can I get an extra twenty though if it stretches to morning?”

“I can do that,” Dave agreed with a grin, and said that they would love to stay, but he really needed to go now. “I was put really behind last night. I don’t know your reason for leaving me hanging, but as long as you can do it tonight we’re square! If you want to change into something else we need to go now.”

Tom seemed perfectly fine letting her go, even though the kids felt robbed. They wanted her to have to step and fetch for them, and weren’t particularly elated she was going. I was actually surprised given Tom was cracking down on her that he didn’t put stipulations on her texting or watching TV over at Dave’s house. This was all so new and happening so fast I just don’t think he thought about it.

Tom is a very practical and pragmatic man. He is going to make her go around completely nude if walking around with her butt hanging out accomplishes the same thing. I assumed the same thing was true about letting her text or watch TV – if in the end he saw her attitude improve he wouldn’t care.

That was one area I would change about him if I could. Sometimes he could be strict with me and expect things done precisely the way he said and other times he was mostly just interested in the simplest point from A to B. That is how my father was though and I suppose a lot of men process the world like that – to them the process is not as important as the destination.

I could have been over-thinking the entire thing though and it was probably just that Tom was trying to be a good neighbor and surprised that Dave still wanted to hire her to babysit after seeing us like this. I know I would have thought twice about hiring a babysitter wearing nothing but an apron and a punk rock collar.

“Well, hold on, Sir.” Taylor asked if she had to wear the apron over to the neighbors’ house. Tom was clearly about to tell her she didn’t have to do it when she looked at Dave and asked if he didn’t mind if she wore the apron. “I have to wear this stupid apron until tomorrow and call everybody ‘Sir’. If you’d asked for drinks I would’ve had to go serve them to you,” she explained, as if she really didn’t agree at all with that sentence.

I knew better.

“Oh, that’s just awful.” Dave didn’t hide the delight on his face and said that if he’d known that he would have asked for bourbon, just to watch her do it. His wife playfully smacked his arm but seemed pleased and amused that her husband was a little bit openly perverted.

He reminded me of a colorful uncle I once had who would show up at family gatherings, tell risqué jokes, and hand out cigars to my teenage brothers after Thanksgiving.

“I have six more swats to get and then I can go; if you don’t mind, Sir? You’ve already seen, or else I’d be mortified.” My daughter looked reluctant, but asked to be placed into the punishment position.

I couldn’t confirm that she was getting off on this, but her pussy was dripping and she was clearly electrified by the experience.

When her dad finished with the tenth swat, and she thanked him, I could detect from her body language that she was sad it was over. There’s this feeling after Tom cums inside me of elation and connection – then when he rolls off, I’m suddenly alone and missing him. It doesn’t matter if he fucked me for hours, I always end up with that feeling.

“May I ask for one thing before I go to cover myself, Sir?” Taylor asked sheepishly as if she wasn’t sure she should be asking.

I was VERY surprised by this question, and began to doubt my earlier hypothesis about her. I could have been superimposing my own kinky fantasies and reading things that didn’t exist into Taylor’s thoughts. She still had an aura of defiance smoldering in her blue eyes, and a mischievous smirk spread across her face after all.

I stood up to get her another apron similar to the one I had on. Dave would know from the cut of the apron that she wore that I wore one too, and probably infer from that we’re a kinky couple, but I didn’t mind under the circumstances.

It was dark outside except for a few streetlights, and it was a short distance across the street. We live on a pretty quiet street where nothing ever seems to happen – so I doubted she would be seen, but it seemed better safe than sorry.

“May I have a SMALL butt-plug to wear, Ma’am?” Taylor asked in the most sincere and respectful way and with the same hesitancy as before.

Now THAT question actually floored me! It just sounded so wrong and yet at the same time – even though it came out of left field actually made sense to me.

I don’t know how to describe this level of total mortification. I know I had said before there were times I was embarrassed and humiliated, but the question did it in a way that hit me out of the blue that I did not expect in any version of reality that ever existed.

Tom told me to answer her. I looked at him pleading for him to respond and he glared at me – he did not like to ask more than once.

My kids were chuckling and even Tom grinning only served to add fuel to the fire. I felt a red wave of fear and shame run down my back in a way that ended in my little asshole grabbing the butt-plug in my own ass and tugging it inward.

I knew instantly that Betty Vulgus must think I was a dirty, dirty, perverted mother who routinely used dildos and butt-plugs, and she probably guessed that I had one in right then. I felt completely exposed – like a total whore mom with a total slut daughter.

It took me a moment to catch my breath and think of something to say. “Why do you want something like that, Taylor?” were the first words that came to my mouth. In truth, I really didn’t care WHY she wanted it.

I REALLY wanted to know what Taylor was up to now. This was blowing my mind that she actually asked for a butt plug right then in front of the neighbors. Had she been playing with her ass and learned to love butt sex like me? That would be completely unlike her to come out and ask for it if she was doing it in private.

The simpler answer may be that she realized how completely humiliated I was by the question. Yet, the look on her face seemed like she was genuinely interested. I wanted to know if there was an ‘undo’ button and we could rewind that question so that the neighbors wouldn’t think we were freaks.

I asked why she wanted it and surprisingly Taylor answered respectfully and without a trace of shame.

“Sir Dad…” She’d been told to address every male with Sir and add their first name when applicable. It made sense at BDSM events when there are a lot of Masters and Mistresses walking around to know which one you’re talking about – yours or someone else’s. It sounded totally wrong coming out of my daughter’s mouth just then, as she continued, “... told me that the butt-plug will protect against people looking up my butthole. No offense, but I thought it may be less obscene if I wore one, Ma’am.”

The bitter realization that she was calling me Ma’am finally hit me. She had said it a few times earlier but it hadn’t sunk in until that moment. I’d been submissive too long to really be able to see myself as a “Ma’am”.

There were three kinds of women I associated with the term Ma’am and I wasn’t any of them.

There were women that looked like my mom. If you know the actress Cathy Bates from the movie Misery with that sassy country smile, then she is a dead ringer.

There were women who had JUST pissed off the make-up counter girl or waitress at a restaurant and were returning their order. “I will fix that right up for you, MA’AM” the waitress would say as she took her food back to the kitchen to get spit in.

Then there were dominatrix bitches at the public play dungeons my husband and I used to visit.

The word Ma’am made me feel so old. I really didn’t want to be called that, and it sounded so artificial.

“I’ll get you one. But I don’t think this is something you’re ready to wear.” I told my daughter that she’d have to clean it and keep it in.

“I’m not going to lose it, Ma’am!” Taylor’s tone told me that she sounded like that thought was silly.

Tom said he was fine with it and told her he was proud of that answer. “You can be a royal pain in the ass and now you’ll have a constant reminder of that – I don’t want to hear any complaining once you’ve got it,” Tom told her.

Taylor looked like she may be rethinking her request but she actually smiled at her father.

“Well, come upstairs and I’ll show you how to insert it,” I advised my daughter. Despite my discomfort with this task, I would at least show her how to properly lubricate and put it up her ass.

“We really don’t have time.” Dave was getting antsy, and said that Taylor would have plenty of time to play with her ass later. “I promise you, Marvin and I aren’t going to look more than we already have.” Dave grinned and asked if I would just give her something to take with her.

I looked at Tom for a nod of approval or to tell me this had gone way too far. “You can bring her Ignotus,” he instructed. He had some last-minute instructions for Taylor while I was gone. I quickly ran upstairs with Janie chasing my heels.

“I really need you to stay out of our bedroom right now.” I was as uncomfortable talking about BDSM as I was about sex toys, and I didn’t want her to see the extensive stash of playthings we had collected over the years.

“Why? I want to see the butt-thing,” Janie pouted, as if she were being left out. She would fart and tell poop jokes just like the rest of the kids at the dinner table, and was no prude, but I still felt very uncomfortable with her seeing me reach for some sex toy. “Do you keep them up your butt and around the corner?” she joked.

This was a joke she had told hundreds of times. If someone lost their house keys or wondered where the remote to the television was, she would always tell them it was ‘up their butt and around the corner’.

This was the first time she was pretty close to accurate.

I shut the door on my precious daughter and ran to the closet where we locked away our sex toys and handcuffs.

Ignotus was part of a set of thin tapered medical-grade silicone butt-plugs from a company called Trubliss. Ignotus was the most slender and smallest of the three plugs in the set. It was a little over 4 inches in length. I stuck it in my mouth and wet it for her, and then jogged downstairs towards the living room.

Tom had named the other two Cadmus and Antioch, after the Peverell Brothers in the Harry Potter novel Deathly Hallows. He would train me to sit on the plug and read while asking me questions from the book. If I answered well, then I would keep Ignotus; but if I did poorly then I would switch to one of the older, larger brothers.

“Wow, I love to watch you run!” Dave admired my strut into the living room as his wife expectedly bashed him on the arm. “Care to leave and do that again?” he asked, without acknowledging his wife’s scornful look.

“I brought Ignotus.” I held it up for Taylor to see what she was getting.

“That little thing?” she sneered, as if she wasn’t impressed. “I thought they were silver with a crystal in them!” she observed.

“Your mom worked up to that one.” Tom freshly embarrassed me, to the point I couldn’t look directly at the neighbors. I imagined Dave was grinning, and his wife was smacking him on the arm for grinning.

Taylor took the black plug from my hand and stared at it. “Did you spit all over this?” she asked with a grossed-out expression before adding the customary ‘Ma’am’ title. I didn’t like the name – but I was glad she remembered and didn’t end up with 10 more swats.

“Yes, dear, you have to lubricate it before you stick it in your butt.” I told her that it goes in the mouth.

“Really?” she asked in disbelief.

“You carry around a mouth just like you do an ass. The ass is for training, and the mouth is a natural source of lubrication – as nature intended.” My husband had told me the very same thing when we first got together.

“I like how you think!” Dave suddenly no longer seemed like he was in such a rush to get someplace as he stood there waiting to see what my daughter would do with the plug.

“So I just spit on it? Ma’am?” She held it awkwardly like it was the world’s tiniest penis and she was completely disgusted by it. She ignored the guffaws and awkward suggestions from her brothers as she asked me how she was supposed to use the plug.

“You put it in your mouth,” I said, hoping she wasn’t going to ask me to demonstrate. I flatly refused to demonstrate in mixed company this way.

“Like this?” Taylor put the entire thing in her mouth and pulled it out with saliva dripping off of it. Her face looked like she was trying to impress me. She had no idea I could take a full 14 inches of “Big Mike” down my throat – SHE would have been impressed then.

“You need to get it a little wetter, dear,” I said while blushing.

“It’s ‘fart-face’, mom!” Janie corrected, and the kids laughed.

Marvin hadn’t spoken the entire time he was at our place. He was just as goofy as the rest of them as he asked why they called her that.

“They call me that because I am a little fart face, Sir,” Taylor addressed him, and curtsied. “They can call me any name they think of, and I have to be grateful in order to learn my place. Does that sound cool to you?”

“It sounds fun!” Marvin observed.

“What name are you going to call me if I babysit you, Sir?” My daughter’s question was framed like she was asking him what kind of ice cream he was going to get at the theme park – with a certain level of amused excitement.

“Probably ‘fart face’!” Marvin promised.

“You don’t think that would be mean?” She poked and tickled Marvin and picked the boy up off the ground playfully while he giggled.

“No, not at all,” he answered her with a smile, as they started out the door towards the Vulgus’ house.

“Fart Face?” The words sounded so strange coming out of my mouth as I stopped my daughter before she left. “Do you need me to show you how to put it in?” I didn’t want to say ‘plug’ out loud. Tom insisted I call my sex toys by their names, and I knew I’d be punished for it in private – but I was absolutely embarrassed I was talking about the butt-plug in front of my family and neighbors at all, much less asking if she knew how to insert Ignotus.

“It’s already in, Ma’am,” my daughter said as she whirled out the door and across the street to the Vulgus’ house.

I excused myself and went to the kitchen to pour myself an Antioch-sized glass of wine. I would ordinarily settle for an Ignotus-sized glass of wine, and on hectic days a Cadmus would hit the spot. I was going to need at least two Antioch glasses and maybe a Big Mike or two after I had a chance to think about what had just transpired in the living room.

Tom didn’t wait for me to finish my drink. He summoned me to the living room. I took a last swallow. It was an Australian Reserve Riesling from Eden Valley that we’d picked up in the last town we lived in.

I wondered if it was MY turn to be spanked, given my part in all of this mess, and the fact that I’d been the permissive parent who allowed Taylor to grow up to be such a brat while Tom was often on business trips earning money for the family.

I went back to the kitchen to take one last drink before walking out to the living room – just in case.