Enslaved Family

©2010 Herb Cat. Do not reproduce or distribute this story without the author's permission.

As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.

.oOo.

Chapter 2 - The First Summer

The next day, I got dressed and went shopping for the things we needed. Mistress had listed steaks (the most expensive cut), Buffalo Bills beef jerky sticks, Sam Adams beer, Tanqueray gin, Grey Goose Vodka, Noilly Prat Vermouth, Seagrams tonic, fresh limes, olives. It made a considerable dent in our weekly budget. I figured the four slaves were going to be eating a lot of peanut butter. I hurried home and stripped as soon as I got in the door. All four of us stayed in the house naked. Master didn't come by.

On Monday, Master and Mistress sat with us at the Fourth of July picnic. I felt very uncomfortable, but tried to mask my feelings in front of my friends. My husband and daughter sat quietly, but Junior was his typical ebullient self, repeatedly going off to play with his friends and then coming back to sit between the Andersons.

Mistress asked me, "Who's that woman looking at us?"

"Ma'am," I whispered back, "That's Marie, Ma'am. Her boy plays soccer on Junior's team, Ma'am. And she's active in the PTA and the Oakwood Heights Association, Ma'am."

"Is she a gossip?"

"Ma'am, I'm afraid she can be, Ma'am."

"Go over and talk to her. We don't want any rumors getting started."

"Ma'am, Yes, Ma'am." I followed my orders.

"Hi, Marie. The picnic is going wonderfully. You did a great job of organizing." I figured it never hurts to butter someone up.

She came right to the point. "Who's the couple you're sitting with?"

"The Andersons. They bought Edith's house next door. They both work for the school district in the next county."

"She seems sorta stern."

"Oh, no, she's very nice. They both are. And they're taking a real interest in our children. They don't have any of their own, you see."

"Well, maybe it's what she's wearing that gives that impression then. I mean, a black jumpsuit?"

"I know, it does look warm, but I guess she's comfortable."

"Speaking of looking hot, Mr. Anderson has quite a physique. Your husband better watch out he doesn't steal you away."

"Oh, Marie, please! Bryan and I are happily married. We had our twelfth anniversary a couple months ago. Our marriage couldn't possibly be any better," I lied.

We bragged about our kids and talked about summer plans and made comments about other neighbors, and eventually I wandered back to Mistress to assure her I had squelched any embryonic rumors, at least for the time being.

Over the next few days, as promised, Master and Mistress came into our house at all hours. We were always on tenterhooks, never knowing when one or both of them would come walking in the door. Sometimes, they only came to inspect: make sure we were all naked, that the dildos were on display in the bedroom and a bowl of ties was on the coffee table in the living room, that the kids had watched the sex videos, that we had bought all the things on the list, and had not bought anything to replace the confiscated items. The smallest transgressions were paid for by our asses: the children were spanked barehanded and zero and I were whipped with Master's belt. The children and I learned to suck Master's cock. Zero and #3 were made to chew out Mistress's beaver. If any of us touched our genitals our hands were tied behind us. Sometimes, Mrs. Anderson came over with their laundry which I was expected to wash, dry, iron and fold. Often, they came over at dinnertime and devoured the meal I'd prepared for my family. #3 was taught to mix Master's martini and Mistress's gin and tonic. After dinner, they liked to have the children sit with them in the living room, or I should say, sit on them.


Then came that one special morning. I was in that state just short of awake, where the most conscious part of my brain knew a dream was going on, but the rest of the nerves in my body felt the cold, especially my feet. I was in the Coliseum. I knew the building well, for whenever we felt we could afford tickets, we'd take the kids to a hockey game. Except this time, I wasn't in the stands cheering. I was standing out in the middle of the ice. All the spotlights were aimed on my totally naked body and the stands were filled. Shivering, I reached for something to cover me. The conscious part said there was a cover on my bed, the hand crocheted afghan my grandmother had given me. But I couldn't get hold of it. Then I remembered it was no longer my afghan. It belonged to Master, just like everything else I once thought was my own.

My eyes were closed but I somehow knew I was not alone in my bedroom. Maybe not a Coliseum full, but I had an audience nonetheless. I scrunched open my lids and saw a man's face a foot away from my own. I startled and backed away groping for the elusive afghan. With thumb and index finger, I pulled my eyes against my nose and squeezed. When I saw it was Master, I grinned and relaxed.

"Good morning, #1," he smiled.

"Sir, Good Morning, Sir." I was beginning to warm up. I realized the summer morning sunshine was flooding my bedroom. I saw he was kneeling beside my bed. He was wearing a black mesh top that made him look so sexy. His face came closer and I closed my eyes as my mouth prepared to receive his tongue. I felt him climb on to the bed beside me and his hand fondle my breasts. I responded in kind, running my open hand over the knit covering his pecs, down to his abs. Then the material ended and my hand was on his bare flesh. His hand also had migrated to my waiting pussy.

I opened my eyes and saw my naked husband and children lined up beside the bed watching. They had been wakened before me and brought in as silent spectators. I made them disappear from my mind. I only wanted to be aware of Master. I felt his firm tool in my hand and knew he had already stripped off his pants. As we mutually masturbated, my cunt began to hunger for more than his fingers. My mind said, "Sir, please fuck me, Sir." Except what I imagined was a private thought, I quickly realized was a quiet whisper that all in the room could hear. I opened my eyes and stared at zero, who looked like a sad puppy dog. But then I looked up at Master. He was grinning. Not that he needed my permission to push his cock into the twat he now owned, but I know he got tremendous satisfaction from knowing I was choosing him above everyone else.

I spread my legs. He put two fingers deep into my love tunnel and spread them. His throbbing drippy cock followed and the vanguard retreated. Finally, after one long week, my Master was inside me. I felt fulfilled. I wrapped my legs around his waist and grabbed his ass with my hands, trying to push his meat deeper into my loins. His tongue was buried in my mouth, his hands were pinching my tits, but my body was only aware of that part of him it now sucked into its vagina. Master was bucking, thrusting, pushing. He kept shifting his body so his pole would jab at different angles, reaching every corner of that dark moist cavern. His animal grunts mingled with my moans in our combined mouth. I knew this was what I wanted, what I needed, what I had been born for, my destiny.

Master raised his upper body up on his arms and I briefly turned my head and saw zero's kind face. He seemed to understand that Master was pleasuring me in a way he never could. We had shared one bed for twelve years. We had procreated twice. Yet here this morning, I felt like a virgin. For the first time in my life, I had a true cock inside me. For the first time in my life, a real man was fucking me.

Master stopped thrusting. Stopped moving. Stopped breathing. The world stood still. I opened my eyes wide and waited. Then it came. That first blast sent warmth radiating out to every part of my body. The second sated my raunchy hunger. The third made me feel blessed beyond measure. Who was I that I deserved such grace? I clung to my God. He was all that mattered to me.

His needs satisfied for the moment, Master stood up. He was drenched in sweat and his half-erect cock was coated in cum. He wiped both with the afghan and tossed it to zero. He tousled the heads of both children and picked up his pants. For him, it was just a nice way to start a day of relaxation. For me, it was the start of a new life.

Master fucked me every time he came over. After a week, when Master was feeling my cunt, he discovered my tampon and knew I had my period. He went over to the kitchen calendar and put a large X on the date with a red felt pen. Of course, he knew where we kept the felt pens. He knew every inch of the house, just as it was his right to know every detail of my personal life. "Is your period regular?"

"Sir, twentynine days, without fail, Sir." Instead of getting fucked again, I joined the children as we all watched zero get his ass roundly sodomized. As soon as his Master's cock entered the anus, his own puny cock hardened and remained so throughout the fuck. When Master pulled out, zero tried to jerk off to release the pressure, but Master prevented him. He had to lie on the bed his balls turning blue as we all watched. Finally, #2 was brought over to milk him with her fingers. He finally oozed a pitifully small dribble of cum on to his navel and went limp.

I began looking at the calendar with new interest. I wasn't on the pill now. They had been taken from me. What would happen if I had another baby? Did I want another baby? Master's baby? Did He?

Zero was sent to the sex shop with a list: handcuffs, a blindfold, whips, a strapon dildo, several S&M videos. We were ordered to keep the cuffs and whips on display in the living room, so we could look at them and be reminded of our new status. The strapon was to be kept in zero's room so Mistress could fuck his ass. All four slaves had to watch the videos. One day, the Andersons brought over four framed 8x10 glossies of themselves, to be placed on each of our bedside tables, like sacred icons.

By the end of July, we were getting accustomed to the routine and the punishments were less frequent. Even Julie was starting to get into the fun of it. I drove Junior to soccer and Julie to her piano lessons. Then we rushed home and stripped quickly. Mistress showed zero how to shave and wax me and Master showed me how to rid zero of all his body hair; we were to be smooth below the nose. Zero's stubble grew quickly, and shaving occupied a good part of our day. We were all in a constant state of nervousness. We'd go about our daily chores knowing at any minute, the door could open. Zero went off each morning with his hard hat and tool belt and prayed none of the guys at work would see his girly panties. And it was hard to get a good night's sleep when your services could be required at any hour.

But when we saw the neighbors putting suitcases in their car, we realized we would have a short reprieve, maybe a day or two. When the car pulled away we smiled at each other. Like mice when the cat's away, we began disobeying all the rules. We got dressed, hid the cuffs and whips and dildos, took down our Masters' pictures, and got a real rush from our sudden freedom. We had a pizza delivered and settled down to watch an evening of sitcoms.

About 9:30, the children and I jumped when the door suddenly opened. (Zero was in the bathroom.) In walked a strange man with a clipboard. He looked middle eastern with a full black beard. Our Masters had sent an inspector over to spy on us. He read the first item on the checklist out loud: "Y N slaves are naked; well, we're going to have to circle N on that one. Now, all of you strip. Next, Y N slaves zero and #1 are shaved. I'll check zero later." He lifted my arms and felt my pits, then felt my crotch and legs. He didn't seem to find any stubble. "Y N cuffs and whips are on display. Well, I don't see them. Now where is zero?" #3 told him he was in the bathroom. We followed the inspector there. He swung open the door and there was my husband sitting on the toilet, his trousers around his ankles, jerking off. He jumped up and immediately lost his hardon.

The inspector went through the house checking dozens of items. Of course, there were many Ns circled.

After an hour, he said, "Don't think just because your Masters are away, that you are free. You must always be ready for an inspection. Now, zero, give me a blow job so I can be on my way. Your Masters will receive my report and deal with you when they return."

Before he left he told us he'd be back. Didn't say when. We quickly put the house in order. Maybe if everything was right for the second inspection, he'd forget the first one. But he never came back.

After two weeks, the Andersons returned and were not pleased with us. Our butts were sore for days. Zero was sent back to the sex shop to buy a cock cage. He had to wear the cock cage to discourage him from masturbating. He could pee, but if he got hard, the pain would be excruciating. He wore the cage 24/7 unless Master unlocked him.

The Andersons went over all our bills. Kept track of zero's wages and accounted for every penny that went out. We were not allowed to keep cash in the house. Everything had to be paid for with check or plastic, so there would be a record. As their slaves, our money belonged to them and they couldn't allow us to waste money on ourselves. However, I had to point out to Mistress that the children would need new clothes for school. She permitted me to go to the bank and withdraw fifty dollars which I could spend at a local thrift store. I was surprised that there were actually some very attractive clothes there, some hardly worn. I was able to buy each of them a new wardrobe and Julie even found a party dress she liked for $10. She thought she could wear it for her next piano recital and I gave in. She'd been practicing hard on a medley of West Side Story songs. I'm not sure why Mistress was so generous to us, except that perhaps if the kids appeared at school in outgrown clothes, some questions might be raised and this was not the time to stir up the local gossip mills.

Master also insisted the children needed a laptop to do their schoolwork. It had to be equipped with WiFi and a Cam, he ordered. The computer made quite a dent in our budget. The kids knew it was paid for by zero's hard-earned salary. They also knew the one to be thanked was Master.

The last week of August, I had a long grocery list. In addition to the usual steaks, I was to stock up on Bubba Burgers and hot dogs, chips and pretzels, ice cream, as well as plenty of beer and liquor. I was told to prepare large amounts of potato salad, macaroni salad and cole slaw, dip, and trays of pigs-in-blankets, quiche tarts, shrimp and buffalo wings. Of course the only information we were told was on a need-to-know basis, but we assumed a party was in the works. The kids loved parties and Julie hoped she could wear her new dress.

One evening, Master came by with some hardware. Zero helped him install two rings in the ceiling beam in the middle of the living room. There was no explanation.

Monday was Labor Day and Mistress walked in while we were having our breakfast. We all stood up and she sat down. She helped herself to a cup of coffee and told me to make her two fried eggs and toast. "We're having a few guests over this afternoon. #3, you shall assist Master at the bar. Make sure all our guests have enough to drink. #2 and #1, you bitches will keep the food coming. Do you understand?"

"Ma'am, Yes, Ma'am?"

"Are there any questions? Yes, #2?"

"Ma'am, what will we wear, Ma'am?"

Mistress looked at her like she had two heads. "Don't be ridiculous, #2. You are only there to serve, so you shall be in your usual attire for service."

"Ma'am, naked, Ma'am? In front of other people, Ma'am?"

"Of course, these are our guests. Master and I have nothing to hide from them. Tonight, they shall share everything we own. Yes, #3?"

"Ma'am, does that mean they can touch us, Ma'am?'

"I expect they probably will want to, #3. You shall grant them the same respect you give us. We want our guests to make themselves completely at home here. Yes, zero?"

"Ma'am, you did not say what my role will be, Ma'am."

"You will find out later, zero. For now, just know that you will be the focus of tonight's entertainment." She chuckled. "Yes, #1?"

"Ma'am, what time do you want us to come over, Ma'am?"

"Come over? Oh, I see, you think the party will be at our other house. No, you stupid bitch. Master and I don't want to mess up our lovely home. The party is in this house. Everything here belongs to us and our guests will make use of anything they fuckin want. Notre maison est leur maison. Now #3, go get a black felt pen from the desk." Of course, Mistress knew where everything was in our house. Our son came skipping back with the pen. "Good, now you will draw a nice big round zero on zero's left ass." I could tell our son was thinking a moment about which was his left and right buttock. He wanted to do it correctly. "That's very good. Now, a nice straight one on #1's ass. Good, and a two on #2's ass. And, do you think you can draw a three on your own ass?"

Junior struggled a little and then announced, "Ma'am, No, Ma'am."

"No, I didn't think so. Here, Mistress will do it for you." Of course, he giggled as she wrote on his ass. "There, that looks real nice. What do you say?"

"Ma'am, Thank you, Ma'am."

"Now our guests will know what to call you." She got up to leave. "Zero, Master noticed two wooden crates in the basement. You shall bring them up before the party. Now, all of you need to get busy and clean this house from top to bottom. I don't want our guests finding any dust or dirt or mess anywhere." Mistress finished her breakfast and left.

We all got busy dusting, vacuuming, cleaning and straightening. I put the finishing touches on the cooking preparations. I hoped there'd be enough gas in the BarBQ but there was no time now to get a new canister. About 4 o'clock, Master came over with the man who had inspected our home. "I told you I'd be back," he joked. The inspector wore black leather pants and a black harness over his bare pecs. Master had on black boots, black jeans covered by black chaps, and a black vest that showed off his hairy chest. They glanced around our home, which I knew was not our home any more, and decided it passed muster. The Inspector was shown the BarBQ. Apparently he had volunteered to take charge of the meat. Then Master told zero and #3 to assist him in the living room. #2 and I could see what was happening through the passthrough.

"#3, put those two wooden crates here and here. No, a little further apart. Yes, that's good." #3 smiled. He liked the way Master praised him whenever he followed his orders. "Now, go bring me the step ladder from the garage." I thought that was rather a large item to ask an eight-year old to carry, but I'd learned never to question Master's decisions. When my son got back with the ladder, after some struggle, zero was standing on the two crates, his feet positioned about a yard apart. Master climbed the ladder and took zero's left arm. He asked #3 to hand him one pair of handcuffs with which he secured the arm to one of the rings in the ceiling. Then he moved the ladder and did the same with the other arm. He admired his work and had #3 put the ladder back. The boy seemed to admire the job as well. There was his father, naked and helpless, his wrists locked to the ceiling, his cock locked in a cage, and his bare feet on wooden crates about 18 inches off the floor, looking like some sort of gothic X. From the kitchen, I only saw his back, his pathetic ass with the circle. He was facing the sofa and coffee table, and surrounded by a variety of chairs, upholstered and folding, small end tables and snack trays. As I set out bowls of chips and pretzels and dip, I tried not to look at his face.

Master, chewing a beef jerky stick, took #3 to the bar and began arranging the liquor bottles. I brought them buckets of ice and plenty of stemware. Mistress arrived wearing a black tight lycra body suit and carrying a small pail which she set down on the floor under zero. I couldn't see what was in it. She picked up one of the whips and gave zero a lash and laughed.

The doorbell rang and Mistress began welcoming their guests. Each one was made to feel welcome, told to make themselves at home and help themselves to anything they saw. And that's exactly what they did, opening cupboards and closets and making full use of our home and everything in it. The "few" guests turned out to be over twenty, and they considered our rooms, yard and pool were all there for their enjoyment. Some swam and took large bath towels from our linen closet, others opened display cabinets to handle our figurines. Others ingested whatever pills in our medicine chest interested them. A Japanese man was bustling about snapping pictures of everyone like he was covering the event for a society page. One woman walked into my kitchen while I was getting out the shrimp, opened a cabinet, and took out a large pitcher. She hiked up her skirt, put the pitcher between her legs and proceeded to piss in it. She laughed as she handed me the foul container. Then she grabbed a clean dishtowel to wipe herself and handed me that as well before returning to the party.

I left the kitchen to serve our guests some buffalo wings and Master was talking to a dapper man in an ascot. "Mark, I didn't see you at the The Grove this summer."

"No, Anderson, things have really been busy at the store. Some of us can't take the whole summer off, you know, like you fuckin school teachers."

"You owe it to yourself to get away once in a while. You know the cabins are a great place to relax."

Mark, Master Ascot, looked up at the living sculpture hanging from the ceiling. "I like what you've done with the place."

Anderson swept his arm in a broad motion to take in my chantilly lace curtains, my Thomas Kinkade art, and my Laura Ashley slipcovers. "Well, it's not really our style, but everything here is usable." He brought his arm down and slapped my bare ass.

#3 was kept busy with their drink orders and #2 went around the trays of hors-d'œuvre. This was no easy task, for both kids found themselves pawed and petted and felt up. One man with a large black mustache pulled #2 on to his lap and began fondling her cunt, while smirking at her helpless father looking down at the whole tawdry scene. I knew the food had to keep coming, so I grabbed the next tray of cocktail franks and began serving them myself. When I offered Master Mustache one, he said to my daughter. "I can't let go of you, my little playmate. You take two of those little wieners for us." As he pawed her breasts and fingered her ass, she wriggled forward and took a frank in each hand. "There now, my little playmate. Feed me one of those nice little wieners." She turned and put one in his mouth. He immediately pressed his lips hard against hers and I realized he was pushing the frank with his tongue into her mouth. She almost choked. He grinned and took her wrist of the hand holding the remaining frank. He held it up toward her father. "Look, this tiny wiener is bigger than zero's cock, isn't it?"

"Sir, Yes, Sir."

With that, he took the frank and quickly spread the girl's little legs and pushed it up into her cunt, as she winced in pain. He laughed, "Some day, my little playmate, you'll have this big wiener stuck in there,..."–he grabbed his package,–"...so you better get fuckin used to having wieners shoved in there." He wrapped one arm around her tits and stood up, pushing me aside. He cupped her ass in his other hand and held her tiny body up to her father. "See, old man, I can do anything I fuckin want with this little girl." He spread her legs apart and whispered directions in her ear. Gingerly, she reached down into her little cunt. She pulled out the frank, now dripping in her young juices, and at his order held it up to zero's mouth. "Go on, old man, taste how sweet the little girl is. It looks like the only food you're going to get tonight." Shamelessly, my husband took the frank from his daughter's hand, chewed and swallowed it, as Master Mustache laughed. Master Flashbulb caught the whole sordid scene on film.

As Master Mustache swung back around, his elbow knocked my tray and the remaining four franks spilled on the floor. Mrs. Anderson shrieked, "You clumsy bitch! How dare you waste our food like that. Get down there and clean it up like a dog. Go on, bitch, eat them off the floor."

I got down on my hands and knees and bent down until my face was on the rug. I scooped up one of the franks in my mouth and felt hands poking around and in my anus. I quickly gobbled up the remaining franks and went to get up, but I saw a big black cock in front of my face. I knew my duty and opened up to swallow the dark meat. I brought the man to orgasm and he gave me several large loads to wash down the franks.

Finally, I was able to stand again and retreat to the kitchen. I brought in a tray of quiche tarts warm from the microwave and stayed away from Master Mustache. On the other side of the room, Junior was being passed from man to man. One played with his boy dick, one tickled him mercilessly, one kissed him lasciviously. He was like a rag doll that the wolves threw from one to the other.

"Hey, Bitch!" Mistress was shrieking again. "The meat's about ready. Get the other things on the table. I don't know what takes you so long!" Quickly, I put out the salads and breads, along with my best dishes, silverware and glassware. "Come everyone, dinner is served," Mistress announced cheerily. The guests piled their plates high and stood or sat around stuffing their faces and taking no notice of the food they spilled on carpets and upholstery. Mistress received their compliments on the food with grace as if she had spent days slaving in the kitchen.

"Say, Anderson, this is a nice looking crop," said a bald man holding a small horse whip.

"Go on, be my guest, try it out." With that, Master Baldie began lashing zero's ass all the while telling Master how well it handled. Other guests began playing with the toys in the pail. There were clothespins which they clipped on zero's scrotum and ears, clamps that gripped his nipples and supported a chain with a heavy weight on it, feathers to tickle his pits, candles to drip wax on various exposed parts. A stranger brought one of zero's sexy female g-strings from his dresser and he was made to don it to everyone's amusement.

A muscular man with blue eyes grabbed my arm. "Hey, Anderson, you mind if I take her into the bedroom?"

"Please, you're my guest! You know you don't have to ask. Whatever I have here is for you to enjoy. But if you want to fuck her, you don't have to go all the way up to the bedroom! Do it right here where we all can watch." He took his boot off the coffee table. Master Blue Eyes dragged me over to the table and had me assume the doggy position. He opened his fly, grabbed my hips, and started thrusting himself into me. A woman, perhaps his wife, stood in front of my face, opened her skirt and shoved her beaver at my face to munch. Each time he rammed his cock into me, my body shot forward into her twat. Master Flashbulb was snapping away. I could hear Master Anderson's voice speaking to zero. "See how many men can please your wife the way your couldn't? Now tell me, do you miss fucking #1?"

"Sir, Yes, Sir." my pitiable husband answered.

"Do you think she misses your fucks? Be honest."

"Sir, Yes, Sir."

"Well, let's find out then." Master put his face by my ear but spoke so everyone would hear. "Do you miss zero's fucks? Be honest."

Between thrusts, when I could get a word out, I responded, "Sir, No, Sir." Everyone laughed, but Master knew I told the truth. Deep down, zero knew also.

The night wore on. Dessert was served, but nothing stopped the abuse of the four slaves. I was fucked by several of the men in both ass and pussy, and by some of the women wearing the strapon from zero's room. The children were handed off like rag dolls, enduring constant pawing over every inch of their bodies. My husband was whipped, clipped and nipped, clamped and punched and spat on. At one point, his eyes were drooping. He'd been hanging from the ceiling for over six hours. Master had #3 get scotch tape from the desk and He used it to tape zero's lids open.

Someone asked who played the piano, and Mistress made Julie go over. A man was sitting on the piano bench and when Julie went to sit beside him, he placed his hand under her ass and impaled her with his finger. The brave girl went through her repertoire of West Side Story and everyone began singing along. When she got to the song, "I feel pretty," Mistress thought zero should sing it as a solo. There he was with his girly lacy g string, his lacerated ass, his clamps and pins, his taped eyelids and his dried candlewax, telling the world in his baritone voice that he felt pretty. Master Flashbulb got a nice picture of him.

When the last guests departed, and Master and Mistress went next door, I got the ladder and unlocked my husband's wrists from the ceiling. When he stepped down, he almost collapsed. I supported him in my arms as he removed the tape from his lids and stumbled toward the stairs. I got him to his bed and he fell asleep whimpering like a baby.

The next morning, we had lots of work to do. The whole house was a mess. There were broken china dishes out by the pool and cracked drinking glasses in the kitchen. We never did recover all the silverware; some utensils probably ended up in the garbage. There were food stains and cum stains on most of the furniture and floors, and candle drippings on the living room carpet. There were urine and shit stains in the bathroom. It took all day to wash the dishes, gather the garbage and vacuum and straighten the rooms. In the afternoon, Mistress came over to inspect. She seemed satisfied with the house. However, when she felt my legs and zero's balls, she frowned. "You didn't shave today. There is no excuse for not following directions. Even the children know that. Now bend over." She gave us ten lashes each, then put down the whip and looked at our son.

"So, #3, did you have fun last night?"

"Ma'am, Yes, Ma'am." The eight-year old seemed to be enjoying every day of his young slavehood.

"#2?"

"Ma'am, No, Ma'am." It was obvious Julie did not like her body manhandled by so many strangers, all those mouths kissing her, all those filthy fingers penetrating her cunt and ass. It didn't matter if she liked it or not, of course, but she was expected to answer the question honestly.

"Zero?"

"Ma'am, No, Ma'am." There was nothing about the night the man could possibly have found pleasure in.

"And #1, did you have any fun at the party?"

"Ma'am, there were some pleasurable moments, Ma'am." She smirked. She knew I had enjoyed getting fucked. She opened my display cabinet and took out a Roseville planter my parents had given us as a wedding gift. "One of our guests was admiring this last night. I told her I'd give it to her." She walked out with the treasure.

We all got to bed early that night because the school year was starting on Wednesday.

.oOo.

As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.