CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Reader’s Note: These are EXCERPTS from Joanne Swift’s Journal October 10^th (Monday) 2016. While Mr. Vulgus is there to pick up Taylor.

My kids and Mr. Vulgus were all staring at me, waiting for an answer to a fairly absurd question.

The question was would I have MADE my sons jerk off into a carton of almond milk and then make her drink a glass of it in front of us daily.

I don’t know why I didn’t just answer with a simple “no”.

That really would have been the best and ONLY way I should have responded. I paused, though, and in that pause people started grinning, and I felt so embarrassed that they knew I’d been drinking a wad of cum floating in almond milk every day, right in front of them, that I just HAD to offer some kind of explanation.

The explanation of why began to sound more like a justification.

“They say the taste of semen actually serves as an antidepressant and helps you sleep better.” I gave an awkward explanation without actually answering the question put to me; and that, too, would never fly around my husband.

“Wow, Ma’am, you’re kind of wild.” Taylor was impressed with me, and because Taylor was impressed with me, my youngest daughter Janie was, too.

My super-brain eldest son already had his phone out to confirm what I knew from over 15 years of being a cum-hound. “Yep, she’s right. It says here not only what Mom says, but it contains over 200 proteins and several helpful vitamins and minerals, including vitamin C, calcium, chlorine, citric acid, fructose, lactic acid, magnesium, nitrogen, phosphorus, potassium, sodium, vitamin B12 and zinc!”

“Well, if it’s on the Internet, then it’s true!” Scotty joked sarcastically.

“Shut up, butt-breath.” Donny punched his brother in the arm and told Taylor he’d be totally down with donating if she was willing to drink it. He was clearly goofing on her, though.

“If it’s so good for you, Sir, then why don’t you drink it as well?” Taylor’s cunt may have still said “Stupid Cunt” in magic marker, but she definitely wasn’t dumb.

“Ah, good point,” Donny said, and abandoned that line of reasoning.

“Look, I know you guys do what you do in your bedroom,” I said.

“Oh gawd!” Scotty put his fingers in his ears and began saying “LALALALA!”, and Donny did as well.

“Listen, listen…” I told them they’d been mature about Taylor’s activities. “Your sister’s arousal is a topic of family discussion. We can talk about yours, too. It’s natural,” I said.

“No one wants to hear their mom talk about their arousal!” Scotty shouted.

“I do – I appreciate it. I was fucking hot as hell when she was slapping me, and I felt like she was going to beat the snot out of me,” Taylor admitted openly with a smile. She not only had no malice about my raging around the house, but she was impressed with me.

“When we started this I told you that I loved you, and that whatever happens I didn’t want you to see me as a villain and evil.” I hugged my naked daughter and Mr. Vulgus started winking.

I smacked the dirty old man on the arm playfully, like Donny would his little brother. He’d been over to our house only a few times and I already felt like I could have this conversation with him there, and that was saying a lot for how at ease he could make me feel.

“All I’m saying is that if you want to, if you’re going to anyway, I mean if nature takes it course and you…” I was careful to stop talking before the boys freaked out, and regrouped my thoughts.

“You know what? Let’s put this almond milk carton in the trash and never speak of this again. It was a mistake. I’m sorry, what was I thinking?” is what I should have said. In hindsight I think that would have probably been the most rational thing to say.

“You could masturbate into the almond milk, or bring it downstairs discreetly in your hand and pour it into the carton; and then if Fart Face decides she wants to try it, then we’ll have it ready. I mean, you’re going to do it anyway, and as long as you’re discreet about it I’d have no problem with it,” I said, without really thinking through the ramifications of that.

“Don’t you also drink the almond milk, though?” Donny asked skeptically.

“Yeah, like all the time.” Scotty reminded me that I drink that milk; at every meal I have it available. They now knew that I was knowingly drinking cum-laced milk, and the world didn’t explode – I assumed their opinion of me would plummet, but they all seemed strangely accepting of my taste. I’m not sure they’d had time to really even process it. I was still deeply humiliated they knew my secret, but it was out of the bag now.

“I could get another carton for me.” I was uncomfortable because I was being kind of sneaky. I didn’t want to drink my own sons’ cum, but it just seemed like a tragedy to pour it down the sink or the toilet – especially considering I’d just poured out my entire supply and Tom would be gone for days yet.

I would think of it like a little ‘sperm bank’ – you don’t know who donated, and as long as I didn’t actually see them doing it I told myself I could live with that.

They didn’t need to know I would drink it by “accident”, and it was a win/win. I know it sounds absolutely awful and poorly conceived to ask this of my own sons, and now that I write out what I was asking, I question how they even took me seriously.

“Hey, why was the gay guy fired from the sperm bank?” Dave told a joke. He seemed like the kind of guy who had a ready supply of these for just such occasions. He delivered the punchline: “Because he was caught drinking on the job.”

The one who laughed the hardest at that was Janie. I don’t think she even really knew what sperm even was or how it was produced.

“If they do it, how much do I have to drink of it every day?” Taylor asked with a curious expression.

“You wouldn’t drink it,” Donny said in disbelief, saying he would definitely jerk off into the carton if she would, but she wouldn’t.

“I would if you would, Sir.” Taylor dared him to agree to do it.

“You don’t even know what it tastes like!” Donny warned her.

“You do, Sir?” Taylor challenged him.

“I mean, you know…,” Donny said as he pointed to his crotch. He admitted sheepishly that he’d tasted himself before.

“Trust me, I know.” Taylor pointed to her pussy. “It can’t taste any worse than my own stuff. “Besides, if you guys get to spit in my food, you may as well do that in my drink. I’m supposed to learn to appreciate food scraps you don’t want by feeding me nothing but gross leftovers, so this is right up my alley.” She added that porn stars do eat cum all day, so it can’t be poison or worse than Chinese noodles.

“Well, we aren’t training you to be a porn star.” I grimaced, and added, “Thanks for saying my leftovers are gross!”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Ma’am.” Taylor seemed frustrated and like she was trying to find a delicate way to say this. “I’m not used to trying to talk politely, so forgive me if I got it wrong, Mistress. I wasn’t saying your leftovers are gross – just that I’m supposed to eat it cold after it’s been sitting out and with spit on it, and if this milk provides all that nutrition AND makes me less of a bitch, than I may as well drink it.” She resigned herself to the idea and curled her lips into a lemony smile.

“I would totally drink it!” Janie offered enthusiastically, like she was accepting a challenge or a dare.

“No, you would not.” I stepped in and reasserted myself, and after telling Janie she wouldn’t. I told Taylor she would if I told her to do it. “The problem is, I can’t make your brothers your personal sperm bank and tell them to spank the monkey just because it may calm your rage, help you sleep, put you in the right mindset,” I said.

Janie asked how sperm could do all that, like it was some sort of wonder-drug panacea.

“The man’s seed is powerful enough to create a baby and bring the spark of life.” I explained to my youngest that without the sperm, we could have all the eggs we want but none of them will ever be a baby. “All of that DNA instruction contains hormones – and those hormones can powerfully effect the female psyche.” I explained that on the skin it also makes it smoother and the hair healthier because it’s essentially the force of life.

Donny confirmed by checking his phone that semen contained oxytocin, progesterone, cortisol, and can even serve as an anti-inflammatory.

“Yeah, but why not just take those things themselves and not have to suck a dick to get it?” Scotty could be as pragmatic as his father, and that was a reasonable question. The answer for me, of course, was that I loved to suck cock, but I could see how for him that wouldn’t work.

“You put cum IN the almond milk, didn’t you, Mistress?” Taylor figured this out on her own. “That’s why you were so mad when you thought I let Janie drink it? You thought I did it on purpose?” she asked.

I was very much busted at this point – there it was.

“There’s cum in my hair, isn’t there?” She was feeling her hair and sort of grinning.

“Okay, I think Mr. Vulgus needs to get you to the babysitting gig,” I said, trying very hard to crawl under a rock and hide. I didn’t want to be dishonest, but I couldn’t look at any of them now. “Yes, I drink it daily, and I savor it. It puts me in a good mood and keeps my skin rosy. I’ve been keeping it in the almond-milk container because I didn’t think any of you would ever actually drink it. Your father knows I do it, but he’s going to have my ass for telling you!”

“Look, it’s fine.” Taylor put her finger in her mouth and licked the cum off her hair. “If you’ll drink a glass a day, I’ll drink a glass a day. If it’ll help me be a better bitch, then I’ll do it. I just thought almond milk was kind of disgusting, but now I realize that was cum floating on the top, wasn’t it?”

“Your father would kill me if I ask Scotty and Donny to jerk off so that we can drink it. I can’t do that!” I shuddered.

“How about this?” Taylor suggested that the carton be a house carton. “Whoever wants to use it can use it. If they tell their friends Brandon or Lanny or whoever, or even Mr. Vulgus, to donate, then we never know who’s floating around in there. And like you said, they just don’t do it in front of us and keep it discreet,” she suggested.

“Sort of like a sperm bank!” I suggested and smiled. I had become carried away with the idea of anonymous sperm donors, in part because I’d been thinking this very thought myself only a few minutes earlier. “That way you never know who the donor was!”

I didn’t want to mention it, but kind of how glory-holes work to keep the anonymous donor on the other side and the volunteer on her side, completely unaware of who the other person was. You were there to suck a cock, and the few times Tom had ever taken me to an adult theater that had a glory hole, it had been very thrilling and extremely naughty.

I was completely caught up in the idea – too much to really think this through, but now that everyone else seemed to think it was such a great idea I found myself coming up with justifications to go ahead and do it.

“Exactly.” Taylor was still licking her finger and the white nut-milk that was dripping down her tits. I never really saw the irony of putting milk from a man’s nut in with almond nut-milk until that moment.

There are times in the past weekend I can look back on and say that things were moving along quite slowly, and then a sudden crash or spike occurred and suddenly the entire course of our lives changed.

One example that springs to mind is when Tom went to give Taylor a choice not to be in discipline and was going to make it quite easy for her to stop training if she wanted. She suggested we actually train her harder, and we agreed to the challenge.

That moment when we made that agreement had been a huge curve on an otherwise fairly straight and steady road for us.

Another example is the chain of events that put lightning in a bottle in the first place that led to Taylor being disciplined. The things she did – taking videos of Tom and I, and making me play her dare game in the kitchen – were the final straw, but there had been hundreds of examples of her being lazy, snotty, and cruel we had ignored before that.

Once the decision was made to assign all of the chores to her, things were still on a fairly steady course of pretty ordinary and mundane discipline. I don’t think there would even BE a story to tell if it had ended with Taylor doing some extra chores and being put on restriction. She dared her father to spank her ass, and he called her bluff. That moment when she put on the apron and bared her little behind to the family was a spike that propelled us forward 15 spaces instead of just one space on the game board as well.

A pattern seemed to be emerging in my mind: Taylor asked for discipline; Taylor dared us to spank her ass in the living room; Taylor just suggested a carton be fair game for anyone that wants to put their semen into it and she and I would drink it.

The pattern wasn’t Taylor, though – the pattern was each and every time there was a spike, I agreed to it.

“If swallowing this goop helps me just like it does you to stay in the right mindset and be less of a bitch, then I’m game to drink it. I’ve already drank some – I don’t see the big whoop, it won’t kill me and it could help me. You two,” she said, turning from me to the boys, “can finally do something to actually calm me down and it won’t take any extra effort. You’re already beating off at least 10 times a day. So instead of washing it down the sink, just put it in here.” She held up the carton.

Taylor was quite brazen to essentially wave an empty milk carton and ask two teenage boys to jerk off into it.

I could quite easily see her becoming the BJ queen at her school, and I wasn’t so sure that was a fantastic idea.

I’ve been into recycling and managing natural resources all of my life, in part because I can’t stand to see things go to waste. I make all kinds of wonderful things from leftovers and I always try to buy green – a huge part of me just hated to see something they were going to go and waste not get used. I think a fairly large part of me also realized this was beyond perverted to even consider.

I shook my head on this particularly fantasy and said that, “There’s one big problem.” There were of course several problems with this idea, but the big one was, “Her father knows what’s in the carton, so if he sees Fart Face drinking it, he’ll think she’s drinking HIM.”

“Then we can either ask Master if he’ll agree to a communal carton, or we can let Master think he’s the only donor,” Taylor said with a stubborn tenacity. “I mean, I’m sure I can get boys at school who are more than happy to donate as much as I want if I’ll give them a little pleasure in return.” She alluded to the fact that she could be a BJ queen.

“You know I cannot keep secrets from your father,” I admitted.

“I definitely can’t keep a secret!” Janie raised her hand with a grin.

“You don’t even know if we’d be willing to donate to your dumb therapy.” Scotty raised his point scornfully.

“I totally would,” Donny said.

“Hot damn, I would too, if I get to keep my balls after being this late to wedding practice!” Dave reminded us he really had to go, and his Slovakian wife would likely assume he was up to something if he didn’t.

“I would do it, too,” Scotty agreed with a grin, but added, “I just wouldn’t tell Dad I’m doing it.”

“So, if I don’t know what you’re going to do, and I drink this milk, then anything or anyone could be in it?” Taylor confirmed.

“Yep,” Donny agreed.

“I won’t know if you’ll invite Brandon to use the carton or you won’t,” Taylor said.

“You don’t know if I’ll take it to the varsity team locker room at school and milk the entire offensive team and bring it back,” Donny told her.

“You wouldn’t dare, Sir,” Taylor said.

“Hope Miller might!” Donny smiled.

“In your dreams! Sir,” Taylor answered him.

I stopped the two of them and prepared Taylor for babysitting that night.

I also took Janie upstairs and made her rinse her mouth twice with mouthwash without telling her exactly why.

October 10^th, 2016 – MONDAY NIGHT – after Taylor goes babysitting with Donny and Mr. Vulgus

I had FaceTimed with my husband and reported to him on my activity that day, and naturally he asked about Taylor’s training and her behavior. I told him I thought she was doing as well as can be expected under the circumstances.

Tom didn’t like generalizations and subjective comments like “doing well” – he wanted real examples.

I gave him a few, but neglected to mention my rage incident or the fact I had just basically suggested my sons jerk off in my milk behind my back. I failed to mention Mort Goldman saw me get down on all fours and pretend to be a dog today, and then later I made Taylor come out and pretend to be a dog just to mess with him. I didn’t tell him that I’d given permission to Mr. Vulgus to discipline our daughter if he felt the need.

I told him instead about how well she shaved her pussy and how I was trying to hold things together and how much I missed him. I was topless up in my bedroom for most of the night.

I was deceitful by omission, but I had the best of intentions – I missed my husband and didn’t want him to worry that I was seriously showing the worst judgment possible.

“Did you spank her?” Tom asked from his hotel room into his phone.

“I put her over my knee in the living room right before Mr. Vulgus came over,” I smiled.

“Good girl!” Tom said he was right for giving me a ‘promotion’ to Head Mistress.

“I’d rather go back to just giving head and being your slave, Master,” I told him.

“You’re both now.” Tom assured me I was still his property. He pressed for more details about the over-the-knee spanking. Tom rightly guessed that she wouldn’t take me seriously.

“At first that was the case, but then she came around once I brought out Lucifer!” I said.

“I would have loved to see that!” Tom sounded impressed.

“You can when you come home, Master!” I promised him.

“I should be home Thursday or Friday night. We still have a lot of clean-up to do. There was a data breach and we’re still trying to assess the communications we need to send out to the end-users,” Tom sounded so businesslike when he talked technology.

“How about at school? Did she get in trouble for wearing the outfit?” Tom asked about the clothes he chose.

“Actually, not at all.” I told Tom about the Halloween event and the fact that a girl came to school in nothing but padded nude-colored Spanx shorts – to give her the appearance of a naked big butt – and tank-top bra as ‘Nude Kim Kardashian’.

“Where were these girls when I was in high school?” Tom laughed at how bold this generation was being, but told me that we may have to amp things up. “If she isn’t really scared of what you put her in, then it isn’t doing its job. We don’t want her kicked out of school, but we don’t want her feeling cool and getting only positive attention. It needs to make her feel on display, vulnerable, and generate a little scorn from other girls,” Tom said.

“I did gag her with the panties like you suggested this morning, and she came home with them tucked in her pussy, Master,” I told him.

“They need to be in her mouth when she gets off the bus before she gets in our yard!” Tom corrected me and told me he’d punish me for not getting his instructions correct.

“You promise, Master?” I realized I sounded like Taylor; but where I wasn’t sure about her intentions with asking for me to go off on her like a maniac again, mine were simply to get the attention and love of my wonderful man.

“I’m not joking with you, and you’re going to have to find some way to push the envelope with her wardrobe outside of the house. I want you to be creative and surprise me – take pictures if you need to – but I have a morning scrum call and I won’t be able to text back because I need to go through the issues list and do some prep work before the morning ceremony.”

I had no idea what he was talking about when he discussed his job. You’d think after 15 years I would ask what a scrum was and why they were having ceremonies, but I was too intimidated and didn’t want to seem stupid.

“Honestly, I thought yesterday’s skirt was pushing the envelope. I don’t know if she has anything or they even make anything where the hem is higher than that,” I said.

“I have faith in you, Love.” Tom smiled at me through the cell phone, and told me that I should think outside of the box. “You may have to cut up some jean shorts or cut slits in her clothes. You have a sewing machine you haven’t unboxed since we moved in.”

I felt very ashamed – I was home all day and yet I still had some of my things in boxes. I nodded and let the topic go. I’d think of something, even if I had to go shopping.

He gave me some additional instruction for tomorrow to continue with my routine. I don’t consider myself a jealous person, but a tiny part of me wished he spent less time on establishing Taylor’s routine and more on reinforcing mine.

I had established my daily chores over the last 15 years, though, and it was time for me to “put on my big-girl panties” to stretch a metaphor and focus on Taylor’s new instructions. Besides, I really had no idea what I was doing and was happy to get direction.

I just wanted Tom to know he was missed, he was loved, and that I was doing my best to hold down the fort and deserve the ‘promotion’ he gave me without trying to seem ungrateful for it.

I would have been happy to help with Taylor, but in truth I still felt unconfident about what I was doing and how I could run things until he came back.

He said that he loved me, missed me, and that he knew I’d be shaky at first. “It was only your first day as Mistress without me there. If you didn’t make at least one mistake, then you just didn’t know enough to recognize it when you made it.” He smiled reassuringly and told me to trust my instincts. “I married a good woman, and I’m sure you’ll make decisions I may not have made, but I trust that you’ll make them with the best intentions based on the information you have,” he said with a yawn. He was sleepy from a long day of work and jet lag. He sounded tired so I let him get his rest because he had a big day at work planned.

He was so right – I’d made a half a dozen mistakes today, from simple ones to really huge ones, and I knew enough to know I’d probably make several more mistakes before he got back.

I felt guilty and selfish for wanting to engage him and pick his brain about how to handle different situations or even just make small talk as we often did. He can be a man of a few words, but when he chooses to sit down and talk with you, you felt like you had been spoken to.

The things I had done wrong so far could wait, though. I knew it was for the best, after all the travel, to just let him sleep and not take up his time with details he wanted me to solve for myself.

He kissed the phone and said he was sleepy. “Donny keeps texting me to ask me how to handle Taylor while she’s babysitting. I just texted him to tell him I’m going to bed, and if he runs into any problems to just text you.”

I thanked him for the chat, wished my husband a good night, kissed the phone and disconnected from our chat.

Janie and Scotty were the only ones home, and I think Scotty’s friend Lanny was downstairs. It was a school night and I’d barely checked on them because I wanted to talk to Tom. He told me about his day, and his stories always including jargon like Agile development and ADFS systems.

I didn’t mind listening to them, though, because I just loved his deep voice and it kept me from talking about the things I was having serious misgivings about.

After I finished I had time to run to the store at the Loop where we’d gone riding Sunday afternoon. I thought about stopping by the Spirit store just to spy on Hope Miller and see if she was making dates with other boys just to stand them up on Halloween and leave them in silly costumes.

I know that was highly cynical, and Hope seemed like a genuinely nice girl, but I still couldn’t figure out why she and her friend would go out with my sons. I didn’t want to admit it, but they were simply out of Donny and Scotty’s league by several leagues.

I did my grocery shopping for the week based on the approved budget that Tom gives me. Tom has an app on my phone that lets me estimate when I’ll run out of something and tells me to pick it up before I run out.

The next item on my list was Blue Diamond Almond Milk.

I stood in the milk section looking at the carton and thinking about what I was doing. If I brought home a fresh carton and put it in the fridge, I was basically opening the door and inviting them to jerk off in my drink.

I would know and they would know, even if I never saw them, that if they jerked off in it that I would eventually be drinking them.

Why was it so important for me to have cum? I could wait for Tom, and while he could be slow providing it, I’d get what I needed from him. On the other hand, If Taylor really did want to drink a glass a day like me, then I would have to double-up production and get twice as much.

I knew it really worked, and they now knew all about it, so it wasn’t like I was really hiding anything from them about it now.

If I came home with TWO cartons, though, I’d send a real message that I was expecting them to do it. I told myself it may be best if I just buy one and hope they thought I was kidding. I definitely didn’t want to STOP drinking my milk, in part because I crave routine and I also crave the taste of my husband.

I was stuck in a quandary when a voice came from behind and a man smacked my ass hard. “Hey there!” he said as he grabbed hard and used a finger to tickle my ass. I had on a simple sundress, with no bra or panties, and my day collar – which is a simple chain necklace – with a pair of flats, so there was nothing about my outward appearance that made me look like a slut who was inviting this.

I stuck my ass up and into his hands, pushed back on him, and lovingly reaching my hand up to feel my husband’s face. I was pleasantly surprised that Tom came home and surprised me. I didn’t question how he’d found me at the grocery store. I turned around and lovingly kissed his lips and felt his beard?!

This wasn’t my husband. It was a total stranger!

“Oh my!” I turned beet-red with sudden alarm on my face – this wasn’t Tom at all, but a man who sounded a lot like him. He had gotten himself a right solid feel of my entire pussy under my short apron and goosed me pretty thoroughly, and I had not only backed into his fingers but I had turned around and kissed him!

I was just glad I hadn’t open-mouthed him. I was so embarrassed! I wasn’t even angry with him for initiating this contact.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Ma’am, I thought you were my girlfriend.” The man held up his hands in surrender, apologetically, with a good-natured smile. He seemed like a nice-enough man. He was about Tom’s age and had a salt-and-pepper beard with the look of someone who works in IT. He could have easily been Tom’s brother, by the look of him.

I missed my husband so badly.

I still wasn’t angry with him; in fact I was so horny from the events of today that I wished he would do it to me again. The shock of the surprise of this stranger’s hand coming up so swiftly sent shockwaves through me and actually turned me on, even though he grabbed a handful of my muff and gave me a squeeze.

“Your boob,” he smiled.

“Yes, I have two of them.” I was quite used to men noticing my big tits and I thought it was awkward he would mention them, but I shrugged it off with a smile until he pointed at them again and I noticed one of my tits had popped out.

I wear nipple shields. They’re bronzed cages that attach to the nipple and keep them pointed. They’re held on by a piercing. “Oops, wardrobe malfunction!” I turned red as I popped my tit back into my flimsy top. He’d been able to see my boobs for as long as I’d been talking to him.

“Oh, was that a malfunction? I was hoping it was because I was such a good kisser.” The man smiled and complimented my necklace.

My day collar bore the ingot that Tom had bought for me recently, but it looked like a necklace, so I thanked him, although I was still feeling embarrassed about what just happened. The feeling had begun to fade like I was coming to the end of a short roller coaster and the bar was being lifted on the ride for us to get out.

I suddenly realized why Taylor had really enjoyed my completely erratic behavior today when I was screaming at her and beating her. She liked to be terrified, but like being in a Haunted House or a roller coaster, you know there’s an end to the ride. You know you won’t die and every safety precaution has been taken.

This man groping me and seeing my tit pop out of my top had terrified me. It hadn’t been like ‘an axe-murderer chasing me down a hallway’ terror, but the humiliation of being exposed and touched by a man that wasn’t my husband. I’d only ever done that when Tom had ordered it, and never once asked for permission to do it proactively.

There’s no steering wheel on the rollercoaster and no hand brake, so you can’t go where you want or slow down when you want; but the thrill of that ride, for however long it lasts with that controlled danger, can sharpen your senses. For people like me, a thrill ride can go beyond exhilarating and into the realm of an actual turn-on.

I had had so many orgasms the last time we went to Six Flags amusement park when we lived in Georgia that someone who sat down in my seat after I got up was automatically baptized.

I’m kidding, of course, but I’ve always wanted to say that. I did get turned on by riding all those thrill rides in a sexual way, though.

I thanked the man and turned back around to consider my purchase of milk.

“Why are you thanking me? I just accidentally grabbed you and got a little free peck on the lips and a show for my troubles,” he chuckled. He wasn’t being creepy, he just seemed a little bored and curious why I’d thanked him for doing something most women would have berated him for or even called the law on his ass over.

“I’m a Trump supporter, so I liked to be grabbed by the pussy,” I joked back. His question was innocent enough, and I hadn’t even thought about why I thanked him until he’d mentioned it. I suppose I was thanking him for the thrill and for the revelation that I enjoyed thrills.

“You don’t look like a Trump supporter,” he flirted back.

I have to admit as a Libra I love to flirt and be flirted with – as long as it’s harmless. I saw no harm in playful banter, given the awkward circumstances.

“Well, I left my robe and white hood at the book-burning.” I asked if he really had a girlfriend or if he just liked to grab strange women in the supermarket and then talk to them.

“The stranger the better,” he joked, but said he really did have a girlfriend and that he’d just moved to the area for a new job. He said that she was somewhere in the store and he’d been bored and thought he would sneak up on her. “I would imagine that if someone she didn’t know did that to her, then she would have poured that almond milk you’ve been staring at for over a minute over the top of his head.”

“You watched me for over a minute before deciding to grab me by the pussy?” I asked him coyly with a smile.

“Well, when you say it like that, it does sound a little creepy,” the man said with a smile. He said that he’d seen me from behind as he walked up the aisles. “I’ll definitely check next time before I grab some strange lady by the ass from behind.”

“You definitely grabbed more than my ass.” I smiled to let him know I wasn’t angry and teasingly suggested that if he sees it’s me, since we aren’t strangers anymore, that he could grab a handful and I obviously won’t get upset about it.

He thought I was kidding and laughed, adding that his girlfriend may not like that too much, though. “I wouldn’t think too hard about that purchase.” He pointed to the almond milk and said, “Just get it and go on home,” before turning himself to leave.

“Good advice,” I thought to myself as I picked up two cartons and then put one back. “I don’t want to go overboard. If they do it, then they do it, and if they don’t, then they don’t.” I decided I didn’t want to be overly suggestive. I’d just leave the carton open in the fridge and not say another word about it.

He stopped halfway down the soup aisle and said, “I’ll be here tomorrow at the same time if you want another grope. Just meet me by the almond milk.” He was joking, of course, and I nodded that I would think about it

It was fun to flirt, even if you have no intention of following through. It made me feel attractive, and I really needed that right now. I was knee-deep into disciplining my daughter and feeling like I was just flying by the seat of my pants, and even though my husband hadn’t been gone, we hadn’t had a very active sex life for the past week.

When I got home Scotty and Janie started helping me unload the Prius and put away the groceries. “This is why we need a slave full-time.” Scotty complained that this should be ‘Fart Face Work’.

“Fart Face Work?” I giggled that it had been MY work for as long as he’d been alive, and asked him if I was also a fart face?

“Well, no, that isn’t what I meant.” Scotty tried to backtrack, now that he’d put his foot in his mouth, and said, “What I meant to say is that you do these things because you have to, but Fart Face should do them because she HAS too.”

“You aren’t making any sense, brother,” Janie’s deadpan reaction was hilarious as she added, “Quit while you’re ahead.”

“All I mean is that you always do these things without being told and because you want to, but Fart Face is doing them to teach her to be a good person like you. So what’s the point in having a live-in slave if I still have to put away the groceries?” he asked.

“First off…” I explained that Taylor was not our slave. “She asked to be disciplined and treated as a family pet. That’s how we’ll treat her and she’ll be kept in line. That does include hard work because it teaches you something. That brings me to my second point, which is that you doing your own work and not being lazy is what keeps you from needing to be treated just like Fart Face!” I started to tickle my son, and he fought back by sticking his hip against mine and pushing back.

After our quick and playful struggle, he became more serious and said, “It’s just for girls, though, right? This training. Dad wouldn’t train a boy, would he?”

“Probably not,” I said as I put away another item. “I think it depends on if he wants to make that boy into a man or not,” I said.

Scotty prompted me to elaborate, and I probably should have just left it at what I’d already said.

“Your father was trained in China. He submitted and learned the art of submission. Before he ever was able to be a leader, he had to master the art of service and obedience. He had to have all the things he does to Taylor tried on him so that he knows how they feel and what a person can actually take. So that, like a doctor, he knows what each form of discipline actually teaches firsthand.”

I don’t think Tom wanted anyone to know about that – he only shared it with me eight years into our marriage. He didn’t see submission as weakness, far from it. He just knew some people’s perception of him may have been skewed if they knew Tom had the courage to actually submit before he was taught how to be a Master.

“So, do you submit?” Scotty asked me. Janie was hanging on our every word, and I was suddenly very uncomfortable. I had a slight reprieve to give me time to think of how or if I could even answer such an embarrassing question when my phone chimed with a text from Donny.

TAYLOR WANTS CAKE. I TOLD HER NO. SHE SAID IM NOT THE BOSS OF HER AND TO TEXT MOM BECAUSE DADS ASLEEP. SO CAN TAYLOR HAVE CAKE?

Donny texted me from his phone to ask if Taylor could have some cake. I told Scotty to wait while I responded to his brother. I used this time to formulate my response to his question as well, because I wasn’t sure how to answer his question. If I said I needed training then a flood gate of questions about what that means would have likely followed.

TELL HER TO ASK MR. VULGUS IF SHE WANTS CAKE OTHERWISE NO. YOU CAN HAVE CAKE IF YOU WANT THOUGH.

I sent the text to my son Donny, and then answered Scotty’s question. “I do submit to your FATHER as head of the household,” I said, thinking it was a fairly non-explicit answer but still truthful.

MR. VULGUS IS AT WEDDING PRACTICE. THATS WHY WE ARE BABYSITTING. SHE KEEPS ASKING. CAN I SHOVE A PIECE IN HER FAT FACE? PLEASE.

I laughed at Donny’s text. He sounded so frustrated and impatient with her. I could picture all these clawing brats eating sugary cake and running around Taylor, driving her batty, and her wanting a piece and annoying Donny.

“So why do you need to submit like Taylor? Are you rude?” Janie asked a pretty reasonable question.

I typed back to Donny before I answered her question.

TELL HER IF SHE ASKS ONE MORE TIME MOM SAID YOU CAN SMASH ONE PIECE OF CAKE IN HER FACE OR MAKE HER SIT ON A PIECE. I HOPE YOU ARE HAVING FUN THOUGH?

“I’m not rude, lazy, or prideful like Taylor, in part because when I used to be like that your father loved me anyway, but saw in me the woman I am today and helped shape me into that.” I thought that was a very sweet answer and Janie nodded.

“So did he shape you by keeping you naked and teaching you the Bunny Rabbit position?” Scotty asked with the devilish grin of someone who knew they’d just put you on the spot and was enjoying it.

I JUST CRUSHED A PIECE OF CAKE IN HER FACE AND MADE HER SIT ON ONE. SHE IS PISSED AND CHASING ME AROUND THE ROOM THROWING PILLOWS AT ME. CAN I PUNISH HER?

It sounded funny the way Donny described it. I answered him first since Taylor was obviously on the warpath now. I wasn’t sure how he was able to tell her to sit on the cake and get her to do it if she was going to chase him, but I responded as follows:

YOUR FATHER DOES NOT WANT YOU PUNISHING HER! TELL HER SHE WILL BE PUNISHED WHEN SHE GETS HOME FOR ASKING FOR CAKE AND FOR CHASING YOU. THANK YOU FOR TELLING ME, DONNY.

The question I had been dreading had finally been asked, though, and now I had to answer it somehow. Tom would expect me to be not only be honest but complete and explicit in my response, but I would hope he would understand that I was uncomfortable answering. I told myself I was answering based on Scotty’s ability to understand, but he could understand Taylor’s training just fine, so it was really my own inability to be completely honest with him.

“I can see from your face, Scotty, that you already think you know the answer to your question. So what do you think?” I answered by turning the question back on him. Tom always answered direct questions, but he also liked to ask questions to make you think about your response.

“I think you did!” Scotty answered enthusiastically.

“Okay, I did, but like with your sister it was to put me in the right frame of mind and address many of my shortcomings at that time.” I added that most of them had been addressed.

“Weren’t you afraid to be tied up and spanked?” Janie’s question made me think she was asking more because SHE would be afraid to be tied and spanked.

“At first, yes,” I admitted, but I told them that I trusted their father. “He’s doing what he does to Taylor out of love for her. This is called ‘tough love’,” I explained, while waiting for another text from Donny.

“What IS ‘tough love’?” Janie asked.

“You know, that’s a good question.” I started to explain that tough love was hard to do because you normally want to spoil the ones you love. “It’s kind of being cruel to be kind.” I could see she didn’t get that reference, so I explained, “Imagine if I gave Sandor nothing but dog biscuits and let him run wild in the streets after squirrels and basically gave him no structure or rules of any kind.”

Janie made a “Wheee!” sound, spun in her in chair and said that would be fantastic for the dog to be able to do anything he wanted.

I hadn’t made my point, but Scotty told his younger sister that if she ever wanted to know something that she should just Google it. He whipped out his phone and read the definition out loud to her.

TOUGH LOVE

Tough love is an expression used when someone treats another person harshly or sternly with the intent to help them in the long run.

In most uses, there must be some actual love or feeling of affection behind the harsh or stern treatment to be defined as ‘tough love’. For example, genuinely concerned parents refusing to support their drug-addicted child financially until he or she enters drug rehabilitation.

It is sometimes called authoritative parenting. There is a British study that indicates it is beneficial to the development of preferred character traits.

To show somebody some tough love today will save them heartache in the future, but may cause a small amount of upset for the receiver immediately after the ‘Tough Love’ has been dispensed. They would suffer more if you let them get on with their life with no interference from third parties.

“Oh, is that what that means?” Scotty shook his head after he read it out loud as if he were getting this for the first time. “This totally makes sense now. I just thought you liked making Taylor’s life hell because she made ours hell,” he laughed.

I was glad he’d read the definition out loud. I was going to make Taylor write this definition several times on a sheet of paper and hang it up in her room in place of the posters. I decided I wouldn’t ask Tom if that was okay because he would probably agree, and it was a small detail.

If Donny was constantly sending him texts all night to ask questions, then I knew he was probably growing impatient with them as I was.

FART FACE NEEDS TO SHIT BUT SHE WON’T LET ME BE THE ONE TO TAKE OUT HER PLUG AND THERES NO ONE ELSE HERE WHO CAN DO IT. WHAT DO?

I received another text from Donny with yet another problem. I sent back immediately my response, asking him how they handled this before. This was really the second night they had been doing it, but I assumed there were established rules.

WHAT DID SHE DO LAST NIGHT WHEN SHE HAD TO SHIT?

Donny texted his answer back to me quickly.

SHE DIDN’T HAVE TO POOP. SHES DANCING AROUND LIKE SHE REALLY HAS TO GO. ITS HILARIOUS. I THINK SHES GOING TO POOP ON FLOOR. SHOULD I LET HER?

I sighed. I didn’t want to bother Tom with this, and I knew he had a problem with our son’s being overinvolved as it was, but if Donny was going to watch over her and there was no one else, then what other choice did we have?

TELL HER I SAID TO BEG YOU TO REMOVE IT IN THE BATHROOM AND IF YOU WANT TO DO IT THEN YOU CAN REMOVE IT. TELL HER IF IT IS NOT CONVINCING THEN SHE NEEDS TO BE PREPARED TO HOLD IT UNTIL SHE GETS HOME. ITS JUST A COUPLE HOURS.

I didn’t hear back from Donny about it, so I assumed the situation resolved itself. I was uncomfortable making quick decisions, and I had clearly made some very bad ones today, but Tom told me I would make mistakes and to trust my instincts, so that’s what I did.

“So the tough love is why you make her drink macho juice?” Scotty asked.

I knew what he meant by macho juice: cum-flavored milk. I decided to let him keep calling it that in front of Janie because it didn’t sound quite so naughty that way. I suppose in a way it was milked from a man and an almond, so it was kind of macho after all.

“I’m not making her drink it.” I reminded him that Taylor asked to do it. “She wants the tough love because she knows it’ll keep her in line and make her a better person in the long run.”

“So I would be helping her if I contribute to the macho juice?” Scotty asked.

“You can definitely put it that way.” I was very uncomfortable talking to him about it.

“So when I want to whack into it, can I just do it in the kitchen, or do I need to take it to my room?” he asked right in front of his sister.

Janie was grinning like a ninny, and although I’m not sure she really knew what he was talking about, I’m sure she had an idea.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, and when he started to ask the question again only a different way, I took Janie by the hand and led her out of the room saying “LA LA LA LA,” as I plugged my ears and left him to do whatever it is that he was going to do in the milk.

“Okay, but I’m totally going to do it – A LOT!” Scotty promised, talking right over my verbal protest that he not inform me what he did in this regard.