CHAPTER TWELVE

Reader’s Note: This is Joanne Swift’s journal, adapted for reading, detailing the events around October late night Saturday and early Sunday morning October 9th 2016

I shooed Sandor away from harmlessly sniffing my daughter’s bare butt, back to his pet bed in the living room. My strange daughter had remained in position after the neighbor left. There she was, naked on all fours with her ass stuck up in the air – allowing even the dog access to sniff her nether regions. I didn’t really take notice that she’d remained on all fours even after I closed the door. I couldn’t be sure if she was waiting for my permission to stand, or enjoying the dog’s attention, or if she was just as stunned as I was that we had done that.

“C’mon, let’s go to the backyard!” Scotty said, still playing along with the charade and grabbing his sister’s leash to lead her through the living room.

I really wondered if my sourpuss daughter would actually play along too. She didn’t – “I think Mom would rather I get dressed?”

I knew she was asking me to get off the hook of actually going outside. She had just been shining Mr. Goldman on as I thought. I was actually relieved that she had just been goofing on him and her brother and had no intention of following through.

She was smiling and actually cooperative – that was a big enough change already for me to process. I don’t know what I would have thought if Taylor had actually wanted to go for a naked moonlit stroll on all fours around the yard.

“Yes, and I like being called ‘Mom’.” I told her she could take out the tail and I said I would get her another apron.

“Dad said to call you ‘Ma’am’, though, Ma’am.” It sounded so silly when I heard Taylor say things like that. I just didn’t see myself as a “Ma’am” and when she called me Ma’am and said Ma’am in the same sentence it sounded completely whacky. I wondered if that is how I sounded when I had to speak in full speech protocol – probably.

“I know what your father’s wishes are, and that’s why you will continue to call me Ma’am.” I put my hands on my hips. “I should make you march around like that tomorrow on all fours,” I warned her. I had absolutely no intention of showing her off that way but I thought it may be good to scare her.

“You wouldn’t, Ma’am!” Taylor was basically daring me to make her do it – that, or she genuinely felt it crossed a line of decency to do it in front of Janie or her friends.

“You didn’t have any problem doing it in front of the neighbor and your brother!” I pointed out. I was normally a lot less direct, but I was tired and a little tipsy. I instantly regretted saying that.

Taylor was standing up but doing nothing to cover herself as she detached the leash from her collar. I noticed her tits and ass bouncing slightly as she rocked on her feet nervously. I hadn’t even realized just how big her boobs had been getting, thanks to the baggy shirts she usually wore.

Seeing her dark, wide nipples in the light of the living room fully extended and rock-hard was creeping me out, but I couldn’t stop staring at them – and neither could Scotty.

“He’s seen me naked before I guess, Ma’am.” Taylor had always valued her privacy, to the degree she was the first one to get her own room, even before Donny. Donny had shared a room with Scotty for several years before we moved to this house. It was completely out of character for her to be so blasé and comfortable with either of us seeing her completely naked.

I understood when she was panicked and made up an excuse with Mort Goldman. I actually thought she was having a laugh at his expense, as it was kind of fun watching his eyes shoot out of his head staring at her.

“Don’t tell Mom about that!” Scotty became bashful and shy – which is out of character for my extroverted and mischievous son!

“You know Dad’s policy on honesty,” Taylor reminded him, before telling me with no sympathy towards her brother’s plea that she’d caught him peeping on her and her friends several times.

“Why did I not know about this?” I asked the two of them.

“I handled it, Ma’am,” Taylor nodded confidently as she stared her brother down.

“In my defense,” Scotty said that he was, “mostly checking out Kimber and Summer when I snuck a peek.”

“What were you guys doing in your room sitting around naked anyway?” I may have been a little tipsy and groggy from waking up in the middle of the night, but I wanted to get to the bottom of this.

“They were playing little truth-or-dare games,” Scotty smirked, and now it was Taylor’s turn to look embarrassed. Continuing, he said, “I just wanted to see if Kimber was really a chick with a dick!”

“Kimber was a what now?” I knew what he had said, but I needed time to process it.

“Yes, she is transgender, Sir,” Taylor admitted freely, and told him that everyone at school already knew that.

Kimber looked like a very attractive blonde girl who usually dressed in fairly skimpy clothes.

“Yeah, but I didn’t know if she had a dick or not!” Scotty admitted.

“You have a dick, Sir.” Taylor informed her brother that he could look at that anytime he wanted to see one.

“Yeah, but attached to a girl with tits,” Scotty smiled, “that’s hot!”

“You were naked in a room playing games with a boy with a penis?” I asked Taylor incredulously, thinking back over the half a dozen or more times Kimber had spent the night at our house.

“I was in a room with another girl and a transgender girl who had a penis; and yes, we were naked, but she has NO interest in putting her cock in any girl. I can assure you that if you saw Kimber when she was a boy you would know she could have had any girl she wanted then.”

I had no doubt Kimber had been a very handsome boy – she was a gorgeous girl.

“Speaking of honesty…” I reminded her that I still didn’t know what I was going to tell her father about tonight.

“Speaking of honesty…” Scotty interrupted my question by asking what Mr. Goldman had meant, “about your bodies looking similar and he thought the naked person may be you sunbathing?”

It was my turn to become beet red. I decided to try honesty, and so I said that I had been, “sunbathing when we first moved in, and Mr. Goldman looked over the fence and saw me.”

“That’s hilarious! Ma’am,” Taylor chuckled. She clarified it wasn’t funny that Goldman saw me, just that I would be daring enough to sunbathe in the backyard. “Were you just topless, or did you do the full monty and sit out there completely bare?”

“You’ll address me as Ma’am and not question me.” I tried to sound authoritative. Scotty was grinning like a ninny at me as well. “Yes, I was trying to get an all-over tan,” I answered sheepishly, before explaining that I thought the fenced-in backyard would be completely private. “I had no idea that Mr. Goldman was a boob-watcher who would stick his big nose over the fence into my business!”

“Boob-watcher! Hah, that’s exactly what he is, Ma’am.” Taylor had obviously had similar experience with Mr. Goldman talking directly to my tits and staring a little too long and hard at them.

“You didn’t give him any reason not to be,” I fired back at her, “You were out here with your boobs completely out, and now he thinks that’s your Halloween costume!”

“I didn’t know what else to say, and I was shocked he actually fell for it, Ma’am.” Taylor said she didn’t see any harm in the deception. “Did you want me to explain that my father was punishing me for exposing your butt-plug and videotaping it so he sent me to babysit in just an apron and then someone got sick on it so I ran back home naked because I’d be punished for not wearing an apron?”

That was the truth – but it definitely sounded pretty convoluted and hardly believable. I had read articles in the news about college campuses that had a ‘nude week’ where every student went to class naked and that hadn’t sounded as far out as the story my daughter had just told.

“I suppose there’s no need to bring up your little escapade to your father if you don’t mention Mr. Goldman catching me sunbathing.” I told her that I’d get her a clean apron in the morning. Her father would never question that she’d changed aprons.

“You can also not mention my peeping,” Scotty smiled along with us.

“As long as you don’t do it again,” I assured him. “The next question I have was were you planning to take that tail out tonight, or did you want to walk around with it all day tomorrow?” I’d been waiting for my daughter to remove it before bringing it up, but it had just been left swinging between her legs.

“Oh? I almost forgot, silly me!” Taylor started to yank it out and then looked at me. “Do you want me to squat and release it the way you showed me, Ma’am? Or was that just to blow Mr. Goldman’s mind?”

I realized my daughter had enjoyed laying things on a little thick to Mr. Goldman as well. I smiled that she had a little fun with a situation that could have been very strange otherwise. I would have been absolutely petrified with humiliation and shame in the same position.

I felt a slight tingle in my loins as I thought about the few times I had been caught – including the one where Mr. Goldman popped his head over the fence and introduced himself to me while I lay out naked in the hot summer sun, as if it were perfectly normal.

I was left with a new quandary. I could just tell my daughter to yank that tail out of her butt and put it away OR I could tell her that there’s a right way to release and un-clutch the plug and expect her to do it.

I cleverly decided to do what I do best – avoid making the decision myself.

“There’s a right way to do it and there’s the fast way. If you want to squat and un-clutch it properly, then go ahead. Your brother already saw you do it once with Ignotus – and you failed to put it in your mouth to clean after which is normally a punishable event. But since you are new to this I won’t mention it to your father but be sure you do it right next time. As for your tail, you could just yank it out and wipe it. It’s up to you to decide what to do to put Ignotus back in, but don’t take too long, it’s late and we may have a long day in front of us!”

My daughter genuinely looked uncomfortable with having to make the decision herself. She’d always been overly quick to make decisions before this.

“I’d like to do it the right way or else I won’t learn, Ma’am,” she said, and then asked if I’d tell her brother to look away.

“You can tell him,” I said.

Scotty’s twinkling eyes and impish smile suggested there was not a chance he was going to miss watching this.

“Dad said I couldn’t tell my brothers what to do all week, Ma’am,” Taylor explained while holding and stroking her tail.

I must have missed that rule when I was writing them up. “I don’t think he meant you couldn’t ask them respectfully to do something. You do know the difference between telling someone to do something and asking, don’t you?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Taylor looked genuinely apologetic that I had to explain that to her. “Sir Scotty, would you mind turning around or going upstairs so I can seat Ignotus properly?”

“I would mind, actually,” Scotty grinned, flashing his broad smile and folding his arms to indicate he was going to enjoy watching.

I actually thought he was kidding and I was going to give him a chance to turn around or tell him to go upstairs, but before I could do either of those things a dejected Taylor dropped down to a squat position and told him that was fine.

“Have it your way, you little pervert, Sir,” she said as she held her athletic thighs wide open, revealing her slick, wet, pink, pulsating pussy lips. She interlaced her fingers behind her head and began to push and tighten her buttocks to un-clutch the dog-toy tail she had pushed up her ass. I knew she would be at it for more than a minute working it out, due to the size and the fact she had no practice.

I am an instinctive rule-follower and probably have a mild form of OCD when it comes to doing things properly. I briefly thought about pointing out that her legs should actually be wider and mouth parted, but I think I was so embarrassed she was doing this in front of me and her younger brother I couldn’t bring myself to offer that feedback.

Scotty, on the other hand, felt no such boundaries. “You don’t get to call me pervert when you’re supposed to be referring to me as ‘Sir’!” he pointed out.

“It’s true though, Sir,” Taylor was squinting her eyes as she tried to force the plug back out of her anus. “You’re watching me do this, and that makes you a pervert, Sir,” Taylor said with no malice in her voice.

“Mom’s watching too,” Scotty said, and asked her if that made me a pervert as well.

“Fair question, Sir,” Taylor admitted, but didn’t answer. She asked me where Ignotus was.

I looked around where my daughter had set it on the floor, and then saw Sandor laying in his dog bed, chewing on something. It was my daughter’s butt-plug, and Sandor seemed to be having a great time giving it a good chew.

“Uh, now do you see why I told you these go in your mouth when you take them out?” I said. It sounded surreal, as if I were complaining about something as mundane as feeding the dog from the table.

“Ooh, I’m so sorry, Ma’am!” Taylor wiggled her ass back and forth like a duck trying to dry its tail to get the plug out. That was actually a very clever move, and one I’d have to remember for future use.

“You took Sandor’s dog toy.” Scotty giggled as he pointed to the dog and then to my daughter’s ass, pointing out that he took her butt toy.

“It’s actually Mom’s butt toy!” Taylor corrected herself and called me ‘Ma’am’.

I still didn’t feel comfortable with how she addressed me. She could add ‘Sir’ to the boys’ names and ‘Princess’ to her sister, but with me – Mom or Ma’am or Miss Mom it just didn’t sound right any way I heard it.

“Did you have that in when Mr. Goldman caught you outside naked?” Scotty asked excitedly.

My wearing a butt-plug and being naked in our backyard was not a mental image I wished on him, but he seemed quite delighted by it.

“I did, Sir,” I said, instantly aware that I had just called my son ‘Sir’ by accident. Adding, “But I was laying on my back so he had no idea I had it in,” I explained.

“Did you just call me ‘Sir’?” Scotty had clearly noticed.

“It was an accident,” I explained to him, “Taylor’s been calling you ‘Sir’, and it just slipped out – don’t read too much into it.”

I was actually very embarrassed he had noticed, and found it difficult to suppress my natural submissive urges when another woman is being submissive around me.

“Can I have Cadmus?” Taylor asked for the middle-sized butt-plug by name. I couldn’t get her to remember her sister’s birthday, but she remembered the name of a butt-plug she’d heard about earlier? “The smaller plug really did slip out a few times, and I had to put it back in,” she explained.

“Haha, you got a loose butthole!” Scotty chuckled at her expense.

Taylor looked up at him with the surly expression of sarcasm I was used to seeing on her face. “I wish I did – then it would be easy to shake this thing out.” She gave it a final swing and it popped out on the ground.

“I can’t just give you Cadmus without your father’s permission,” I said. I told her she was not to call it a butt-plug. “It has a name, that name is Ignotus. The name is there so you take care of it the way you would a person, and not just a toy like you left around for the dog to get.”

“I’m sorry, Ma’am! I don’t want to be punished for ruining Ignotus! I know Sir Dad would probably make a big issue out of it and I was hoping to quietly correct my mistake, Ma’am,” she said. “What do you think he would do to me if he found out the dog chewed Ignotus up?”

I was skeptical she really didn’t want to be punished at this point. It was almost as if she was extremely turned on, and my providing her details of the punishment may just fuel that.

“Plus we’d have to tell him all about Mr. Goldman and the peeping and your sunbathing, Ma’am,” Taylor reminded me. “You can make decisions for me, too! It’s just an adjustment one size up. It’s no different than providing me a fresh apron right, Ma’am?”

She had made an excellent point – I was simply surprised she could be so practical and was willing to stick something up her ass even larger than the last plug. I wasn’t afraid of punishment from her father, I definitely didn’t like to frustrate him or make him angry. This seemed like something I could handle – a detail.

“Fine, wait here,” I sighed.

“What should I do with the dog toy now? Throw it away? Ma’am?” She scrunched her nose as she looked at it, holding the position–squatting with her legs apart–by the front door.

“If you want to do it right, you crawl over to it and pick it up with just your mouth and clean it and hold it there until I bring you a new one.” I was being honest. Tom had trained me to do with my tongue and mouth what most wives couldn’t do with their hands and fingers. I didn’t actually expect her to do it.

I wouldn’t have realized she was trying to pick it up on her hands and knees with just her mouth unless I heard my son giggling while I walked up the stairs to retrieve Cadmus.

“Stop laughing, Sir,” Taylor giggled with her lips around the rubber plug, adding, “You’re making me laugh too and I can’t pick it up.”

“Oh man, I can’t believe this!” Scotty said excitedly.

“None of your friends will believe it either, and I’ll deny it if you tell them, Sir!” she promised, with a playful tone in her voce.

She normally had nothing but vitriol and sarcasm for her siblings and here she was at least being goofy.

I didn’t feel the least bit ashamed leaving my naked daughter in the living room as I crept into my bedroom and snuck over to the sex-toy closet. It took a lot of effort to open it without waking my husband, but I knew exactly what shelf I kept Cadmus on.

One of my mottos is a place for everything and everything in its place.

I snuck back downstairs and handed my daughter Cadmus. I wasn’t supposed to actually touch these without permission but I was tired and I really didn’t want to explain to Taylor her father’s very special rules about handling training toys. I had certainly had enough excitement and humiliation for one evening.

“Shouldn’t you have carried it in your mouth?” Scotty asked. He had been nonstop teasing his sister while she had returned to the squatting position with the dog toy hanging from her mouth. Fresh saliva was rolling down her chest onto her bare tits and her pussy was still dripping wet. The floor beneath her would need to be cleaned from the stain of her snail trails.

“I’ve been very patient, but if you don’t watch how you talk to me I could make you do the same thing Taylor is,” I warned my son. I really had zero intention of disciplining him, but I thought it was a decent warning.

“It’s ‘fart face’,” Scotty corrected me on my daughter’s name like a smartass, and suggested he’d love to run around the house naked.

That much was true – Scotty was definitely an extrovert. He was always that way – the first kid to strip down to their undies and run through the yard naked under the garden hose when he was little.

“You won’t like all the hard work and discipline.” I told him that discipline was much more than losing your clothing privileges. “There’s hard work, respect and you’re strictly monitored all day.” I reminded him that Taylor had to ask permission to even use the restroom going forward.

“Oh yeah, that part would suck,” Scotty agreed, and teased, “Don’t feel sorry for ya, Sis!”

“It’s different for boys than a girl anyway,” I explained.

“How so, Mom?” Scotty had to ask for more details.

I didn’t want to answer, because what I had just said was a Pandora’s box, but I had opened my mouth and felt I needed to at least clarify my response. “As you know,” I started, continuing, “…there’s a difference between boys and girls and how they process the world.”

“Oh, is this the birds and the bees talk?” Scotty told me he already knew that one.

“Not quite,” I grimaced at my son’s oversimplification of the topic. “There’s a sexual element to discipline training as you can see here.”

I pointed to my daughter who was clutching Cadmus while she sucked on a dog toy that had only minutes earlier been lodged up her ass.

“Girls are always being hit on – and so we have a different, more stingy, view about providing pleasure to others.” I tried to find the most clinical way to describe something that was very erotic about BDSM. I was also trying not to say this WAS BDSM, but for all intents and purposes Tom was using domestic discipline on her.

I really wanted to say that someone has been trying to get into our jeans since the time we hit puberty or before, and that you can’t train a woman the same way you would a man. Tom had made me a cum-guzzling three-hole slut who would do anything to pleasure him sexually when I had actually been taught, from an early age, to make men work for what I had between my legs and give it up as sparingly as possible.

If you wanted to train a normal man to be a nympho, it wouldn’t take all that much effort. You’d just point him to a hole and let him do whatever he wanted with it.

I had seen women who dominated their husbands in the past, and they had to take a totally different approach to training than Tom had. They cuckolded them by feminizing the man. He may appear outwardly like a macho stud, but at home he wore panties and a pink apron with heels.

Panties and an apron wouldn’t humiliate me in the slightest, but it would a man like that.

He had to learn what women had to go through by shaving, plucking, and wearing pantyhose and heels.

Where Tom would stretch me out and make me use my pussy all the time for his amusement, the woman controlled by tying a pink ribbon, or locking a cock cage, around his penis to send him a signal he only gets to use that when and IF she decides.

Tom also knew I had self-esteem issues and terrible anxiety from a past relationship, so he made sure to snuggle me with after-care following any intense beating or whipping. He could humiliate me a little, but he generally built me up and made me feel like a sexy whore for him; a vixen who would do anything or anyone for him, if he ordered it – but that I belonged to him as property. I even have a subtle slave tattoo on my neck, of a registry number, to demonstrate my commitment to Tom.

The female led relationship couples where the man was cuckold to the wife we had met were far more into extreme humiliation. The man’s ego and swagger was much more difficult to remove, so they would write dirty words on their bodies and call them disgusting little piggies at dinner.

This usually pleased the kind of men who wanted to devote themselves completely to a powerful woman.

I had one become enamored with me a few years ago. His name was Charles and he was a CIO for a big electronics firm. He called himself “Chucky” and wore a diaper under his 500-dollar Brooks Brothers suit.

He promised he would come over and dress in a French maid costume and clean up for me and be a slave to my husband and me – if only I would agree to train him.

In retrospect, we could have used the extra income. He was willing to sleep in a cage by our bed and let us make all the decisions for him. I suppose as a powerful man in the corporate world he was tired of that and wanted to just take orders at home.

We didn’t agree to his request, although we definitely thought about it. One of the main reasons we couldn’t agree to it was that we couldn’t think of a viable way to explain who he was to our kids.

“Oh, Chucky? He lives in Mommy and Daddy’s bedroom.” I simply couldn’t picture myself saying that.

The last I’d heard, Chucky had found himself two Asian pro-dominatrixes in Los Angeles that said they were sisters. He was still working for that same company and at night coming to their dungeon and living in a cage. I hadn’t thought about him in years before just that moment.

“Ma’am? Can I go upstairs? Can I have an apron?” I realized I had tuned out my daughter’s questions and been lost thinking about the past.

“Oh yes, let me go get one for you,” I instructed, adding that she should wait in her room and I would bring her one.

“You need to get to bed too,” I chided my youngest son and sent the two of them upstairs.

I noticed Taylor was wiggling her ass slightly and trying to walk with her shoulders back as I had told her earlier that night.

“Try gliding as you move, so that you pick up your feet and bend at the knee, but also wiggle just a little here,” I indicated my hips and then my tits, “jiggle here at the same time, but up and down.”

She smiled thankfully and told me good night.

I only mention this because I have made it a habit to wish my kids a good night all of my life and tucked them all in up until they no longer needed a story and a kiss good night from Mom.

Taylor hadn’t wished me a good night back in about five years.

That felt really good.