Family Feud IV

The Family Feud IV

Chapter Twenty-One

Wendy’s Journal –Normal is a setting on a washing machine

**Note to reader: This is Wendy’s journal from Tuesday after arriving at Rahjid’s motel. In order to increase readability, some of the dialogue exchanged was altered to appear in a ‘narrative’ story format. The Hindi words that appear in this part of the journal were originally phonetic but have been translated into their actual spellings.

New Rules for the Whores:

6- When you finish with a trick, you must return the condom to Rahjid for inspection. You will use your mouth to return the Condom. You will be inspect after each trick, to do the needful. If you have sex without the condom, you will be punished because you must be trying to enjoy the bareback.

7- You will wear the buttplug, if they want the ass they must pay. You are not to remove the plug yourself, and you may not play with yourself. You must ask them to kindly return the plug to the location.

8- If you have complaint or bring drama, you will be punish.

9- If you do not turn the trick each hour, you are to report to Rahjid to explain and be punish.

10- You are to keep your room neat and tidy – no hot plate. You will be given meal-break by Rahjid.

Were these a cruel parody of “Bill’s Bill”? Had I traded the stability of the limits and rules of his flexible rule system we worked out at home with Bill and Chris for this crudely written set of rules that Rahjid had just dashed out?

Surely, his other whores were not going to follow these rules – but then Jamie and I aren’t his ‘other whores’. We are Bill and Chris’s whores and they were already smiling when Rahjid read the first two rules out loud and saw the look on my face. If I begged Bill to go back to his old structured rule system – He would say I am being wishy-washy and probably make us do these things anyway.

I think it was more the fact that Rahjid had taken less than three minutes to dash these out and they were in such a crude format – I had a hard time accepting much less respecting them.

My daughter – bless her heart is a rule follower to the tee. I know when I was a little girl I was so much like her – If I got a “Red Star” for effort in class, it only infuriated me and made me want to earn that gold star. Note to self: Don’t tell Bill and Chris that or they’ll use my competitive nature against me – then again I think they already know that.

I should probably recap my day for you journal, I haven’t been able to make an entry in hours. I was a little ‘tied up’ – that joke never gets old. I already covered how I spent the afternoon as a doggy like my daughter (and sweet little Roscoe). I think I mentioned Victoria Waxerman’s visit and how the wicked old biddy seemed to delight at my humiliation.

You know I think when we put those “Obama 08” signs in our yards a couple of years ago I got on her radar as some sort of subversive ‘modern-day career feminist’ and now that she has seen me humiliated and acting like a slut in heat, I think there is this sense of validation for her that she is morally superior and for that matter superior in all ways.

That educated hillbilly probably thinks Rick Santorum is too liberal for her tastes, lol. Hey I don’t really have time to talk politics, and I admit I am probably just stalling writing about this again because deep down inside, despite the fun we seem to have as a family shocking the shit out of Waxerman, I think a part of me, that prideful “career feminist” that she dislikes so much, really does feel awkward and ashamed, disgusted even by having to bend at the knee for her.

Speaking of bending at the knee, I just finished sucking my first dick of the night. I should probably table my thoughts about Chris and Jamie fucking in the bathroom and my involvement. Even if no one else sensed the sexual tension between those two, I’ve known about it for weeks and I thought for sure Chris was using his humor as a defense mechanism to avoid fucking us. I think he could get his dick sucked, play with our asses, watch us shit on the lawn, paddle us and torment us, but for some reason I thought he had a gray line on fucking us… I probably need to stew a little more on that and what it means for us after the training is over. Bill offered Jamie a chance to be a puppy all summer. Can you imagine that sadistic bastard? Wanting to keep his precious daughter naked and crawling with a butt plug for three months over summer break?

Why did he not offer that to me as well? Did he just want his Toy daughter as a fuck bunny hopping around the house and figure I would sit at the coffee table watching Oprah while all this was going on? I haven’t been permitted to watch TV in so long, I don’t know even know if that show is still on the air. I doubt they let the DVR keep recording it so I can catch up, lol.

So yes, I have more than a few thoughts about today and journal you probably have some ideas about my feelings already – I promise I’ll get back to sharing them but I need to write about our family ‘Charlie Sheen Tuesday’ while it is fresh in my mind.

We weren’t even allowed to put on clothes until about 9pm. I understand that, Bill knows it makes us vulnerable and disarmed and he likes to see our little naked asses. He wanted to make a good impression on Rahjid and we’ve been playing along (at least I hope Jamie has been and wasn’t serious about all of what she said) with white alert in front of him to make Bill seem more important.

I was really impressed with Bill’s negotiation tactics this time around. His last encounter with Rahjid he had let the little Indian man hoodwink and bluff him into just about everything. This time the only thing critical I could say was that Bill was a little too short and sweet for my tastes – comes across too trusting and leaves too many details undecided. I had some bosses like that who were ‘big picture’ only – they went on to be head honchos at the company and I am a whore, so maybe their approach WAS better. I am in trouble and serving my husband and son in part because I was too critical of them and tried to make them like me – so I really need to learn that lesson. If it won’t sink in with this kind of discipline – I may never change.

We have to work until Friday to get Bill’s high school memorabilia back – okay, I expected we’d be done working here tonight after we got his stuff back and Bill could set up freelance ‘dates’ back at the house where it is a little less disgusting – and we wouldn’t have to split our profits with Rahjid. However, that may be a blessing in disguise as we can do more ‘volume’ here.

We met Rahjid’s “Other whores” around 9pm. They are a bunch of unruly trailer park sluts – Ronnie, Bobby, Ricky and Mike, I love the girl, who cares who you like.

Okay, that was the first thing I thought when the first whore introduced herself as “Ronnie”. That isn’t a very sexy name – but then again neither is “Cow tits” which they have all started calling me.

The other two are Doris and Maya – I think Maya is my age but she is so demure and sexy it is almost impossible to tell. I have to admit I am a little jealous of how well she purports herself around – it is like she is this sexy Diva who doesn’t realize she is standing knee deep in a cow-pasture of bullshit who pretends she is at a fancy dress gala.

I am kind of jealous with how classy she can act despite being surrounded by so much broken down crap.

I know that sounds negative but I don’t even know the name of this motel – the sign isn’t lit up. MLK Blvd is notorious in this town as the place you go for drugs, hookers and when you are homeless. If I were homeless I would go anyplace else – why not? You have no home, what keeps you here?

The entire area is run down and dilapidated – full of throw away people and throw away things. There are old shopping centers where the K-mart that was there has gone out of business and now a “J-mart” has taken its place selling even crappier knock-off stuff than a K-mart. In between the massage parlors, go-go clubs, pawn shops, liquor stores and check cashing places, there are legitimate businesses that were probably someone’s dream – a bakery, and an Italian restaurant. Those places are closed with boarded up windows – those dreams denied out here on the poor side of town.

This motel in particular is on a very nasty part of the street. Even the dreamers who thought they would give a go of starting a plumbing business on this side of town didn’t bother trying on this stretch of the avenue. On the opposite side of the street I can see a little roach-coach taco stand that looks open and another motel. That motel looks dark and is surrounded by fence and barbed wire. I don’t think it’s closed down, I think people live there full time and the fence isn’t to keep them in – it is to keep everyone else out!

After our introduction to the other girls – which we had to do naked and bent over holding our ass cheeks apart so they would know we were beneath even them – Rahjid gave us five new rules he made up on the fly. I think 10 sounds ‘official’ – the 10 commandments sounds more impressive then the nine or the eleven. I didn’t even bother to protest I just withheld a sigh and agreed.

Rahjid is obviously a sadistic little man with a Napoleon complex – driven by some lack of authority or power in his life to have it over others. I think if you couple that with his desire to impose some sort of order, but being surrounded by prostitutes who don’t take him seriously every day, he decided he wants to take it out on those he can.

His wife cooks, cleans and quietly goes about carrying out his orders – but never a word of praise. His niece – well I don’t even have time to go into all the scary things about Usimilla Devi Das. The girl is about Jamie’s age and kept in some sort of chastity bondage. I’ve watched a show (back when I was allowed to watch TV) called “Outsourced” that showed how Indian people had arranged marriages and cultural taboos about growing long hair or showing personal displays of affection – but enslaving young girls who embarrass you and shaming them?

I guess that is fairly universal to every culture because just last Sunday there was a Korean girl who was probably about Jamie’s age at the flea market in the same boat. Is it just coincidence I’ve started to notice women who are subservient or had they always been in the background and my station in life is making me see things on their level and notice them?

My mother is a strong woman, but she was hardly outspoken. She cooked, cleaned and raised three kids while my father worked our farm – would I have thought of her as submissive? Kind of, now that I have been one myself. I think people make a mistake of assuming strength and submission are not mutually compatible terms.

I think my mom was deeply submissive to my dad’s authority and to her Christian upbringing – but she was also strong and stubborn about her convictions. I wonder how much of my early life was a rejection of that stay-at-home old fashioned mom? I wonder how much of my stubbornly remaining submissiveness to the men of the family, no matter how far they have pushed, has really been subconsciously because of some maternal instinct ingrained into me by my mom?

Questions for another time deserving answers – I promised no more stalling and yet I started to bunny trail into one of a thousand thoughts that flit around my mind while I am stuck bending over spreading my ass cheeks for my ‘Pimp’s.

The other girls laughed at Rahjid’s rules and left to start working their respective corners – but we remained.

“You whores will do the rules as you are told, yes?” Rahjid demanded of us. His rules barely made grammatical sense and they told us ‘what’ he wanted us to do but not ‘why’ – I wasn’t even sure I wanted to know ‘why’.

“Yes Sir, they seem reasonable and generous, thank you.” I was still in position two with my ass parted for him to talk into. He leaned in close as if my sphincter was a microphone to my brain – and on some level I think the intense embarrassment of being in the sobering lights of his office/home it really was. I wanted him to feel satisfied with the rules and not think that there was a need for more.

He wasn’t going to come up with anything as thought provoking or well-intended as my husband’s rules – which I admit I helped tone down and clarify when I typed them up for him in the computer. All that further rules would do is make life harder for me and Jamie and I may have done that already by convincing everyone to suspend the stars.

I really do feel guilty about losing my job and sending the family into chaos – but I will be second guessing for a long time whether I should have not just finished out our sentence and earned our freedom and then got back to normal. Then again – normal is a setting on a washing machine and we are no longer entitled to think of ourselves as such. That was always a bit of an illusion anyway – we had more dysfunctions than many families – the biggest of which was the assumption we were all the ‘normal ones’.

So here are the “normal ones” – Bill and Chris sitting on filthy chairs inside a tiny apartment that doubles as an office for a roach motel discussing pimping out me and Jamie while we stand at attention in the nude.

“You looking forward to sucking all those dicks, Sis?” Chris had always had a sadistic streak since this began but there was a slightly passive aggressive bitterness to his questions tonight.

“Not as much as sucking yours, Sir!” Jamie’s playful response could have been any sister talking to any brother who ever rubbed having to do chores when they were grounded in their face.

“You will submit to the inspect now, to make sure you not steal from office.” I knew Rahjid’s pretense that maybe we stole one of his cheap elephant god statuettes and stuck them up our butts was simply a pretense to play with our bodies. We answered him sweetly and he started with Jamie. I could hear her let out a gasp – either his finger was cold or he was very rough with his fingers.

Then I heard click-click-click of metal scraping metal and Jamie gasped “Please Sir, that’s too far!”

“You have baby anus, just relax your ass” I could smell my daughter’s musky sweet gas with just a hint of cinnamon and nutmeg wafting along with it. To her credit whatever he was doing to her - she didn’t complain again.

My son asked flippantly “Are you by chance studying for your proctology degree?” But Rahjid ignored him – it was obvious he really only respected Bill. My son treats me like something he stepped in and wants off his shoe some times, but it really burns me that Rahjid just gives him the cold shoulder.

After what felt like an impossible amount of time he unclanked what I came to learn was some sort of antique metal speculum to put directly in my ass (Without so much as having one of us clean it with our mouth first).

Clank-clank-clank – when it was my turn I sang “Moon riiivvver” an old Chevy Chase reference that my son and husband got – I couldn’t see their faces but I heard their giggles. It was all I could do as I felt my entire back door open in a way it had never been before. I could feel the cool air in the apartment suck into my butt and I imagined my ass hole was this big six inch around gap. I could smell my butt sweat and internal gases escape with nothing left to hold them back in and I think a whole new wave of humiliation washed over me – just when I thought I was getting used to humiliation.

“See anything you like Sir?” I teased – I thought because I was on white alert it was okay to play around this way and I was trying out Chris’s humor mechanism to deflect in times of sheer panic. I visualized my asshole staying as wide as he had it splayed out and not snapping back and the visual was not pretty.

“Shut the mouth, this one I do not like.” Rahjid announced as he pulled my cunt lips wide and gave them a tug until I felt equally exposed in both holes.

“Feel free to punish the talkative slut, if you don’t like her attitude.” Bill replied helpfully. Thanks husband – oh love of my life. He even offered him some advice on how to do it.

“We wrote the Kama Sutra 400 years before your Bible, it describes four different kinds of hitting, I think I am perfectly capable of knowing what I am doing,” the fastidious Indian with a speculum holding my ass open replied.

“It is a manual that covers virtuous living and the duties and privilege of the wife, and I have studied it well.” Despite his confidence I thought I heard a ‘harumph’ coming from his wife.

He seemed to be hesitating and I dared to look up over my shoulder to see what he was doing – despite it all he was thinking.

“Please don’t whip my ass with that rod, Sir! Anything but that.” I wasn’t sure if he would buy it, because I made my hint so obvious. I could have waited for him to come up with something on his own – but frankly I was ready to get that speculum out of my BUTT hole and start making money to get us out of this MONEY hole we are in.

“The almond tree branch?” Rahjid asked sadistically as if it would inspire fear in me. “It grew in the garden of my ancestral home for twenty years. You think I should use this on your fat, sweaty American ass?” Rahjid became defensive.

“Oh no sir! I would never dare ask you to use something important to you, please anything but the branch!” I felt a little silly – because after a week of beatings the branch didn’t scare me.

I should have been scared though - the first thrashing with it stung because it bit into my pussy and asshole that had been laid bare by Rahjid. “Aaiiiiiieeeee” that was no white-alert act for his benefit – that motherfucker really stung. Even his wife was laughing when I had to take a breath and say, “Thank you Sir for correcting my misbehavior, may I have another?”

I thought maybe it was made of eucalyptus or something – there was a chemical on the branch that stung like menthol on a cut.

I counted twelve searingly painful thrashes with a branch across my entire ass – Rahjid didn’t seem to be very precise like my husband. He hadn’t begun with a set amount so it could have been one hundred or five for my offense. I was reduced to tears and had forgotten why I was even being punished by the time he was done.

“The mascara you are having is running, and that is very attractive to me, but not to trick. Clean yourself you slut.” Someone threw a bag of clothes and makeup at us. I didn’t feel him taking it out but the crane-like speculum jaws he had used to hold my asshole apart for the punishment had been removed.

“Shall we insert our butt plugs first, Sir?” Jamie asked delicately. I could tell as she stood that she was digging a finger in her crack from the same sensation I had – that we were still flapping wide in the breeze and our buttholes were still wide.

“You have to ask? I thought you say the sluts are trained?” Rahjid goaded Bill.

I straightened myself up with poise, stood back to back with Jamie pressing our cheeks together and then pushed a butt plug straight into her asshole! Second time we did it without making it an awkward mess –perfect bullseye. Either we were getting wider back there or our coordination was improving. I shuddered to think which it was.

They both looked identical so I wasn’t sure diamond butt plug was hers or mine – I suppose it didn’t matter to anyone else –but probably did to Jamie.

We were allowed to dress in the skimpiest micro-mini and half-top we owned and given some high heels that didn’t match. I don’t think Chris makes us wear things that don’t match on purpose – bless his heart but if he only knew that the skimpy outfits themselves were less humiliating than the fact I had on red shoes with a purple skirt and a cherry bubblegum top.

“If you are good girls tonight, you will eat my wife’s tandoori Naan bread, with some authentic Indian Darjeeling Tea” I didn’t even have to see Rahjid to know from his voice that his head was bobbling and he was giggling.

“Thank you Sir, l look forward to that.” My daughter was wearing a shirt even shorter than mine and a skirt that looked like it might have made a better hand towel but she sounded like a genuine angel asking to be enlightened and try Indian cuisine.

“You are not as much bitch as your mother?” Rahjid’s question was more of a statement of observation.

“No sir, I am a bitch JUST like my mother, I am just better at hiding it,” that sweet-sweet girl. I’ve heard of underhanded compliments and launched more than my share in my corporate days - I’ve never heard of insulting yourself as a way to secretly compliment another. That is probably why there is no word for doing that – not enough people do.

Rahjid gave the key to our ‘cabin’ to my husband and Bill and Chris walked us there to have a look at where we would be receiving our ‘tricks’ tonight. I remembered working in these dimly lit one-bedroom rooms two weeks ago but it was all such a blur. I had to light a candle – not to be sensuous but because I think the lights didn’t work.

When I hear ‘cabin’ I think of a log cabin with Grizzly Addams chopping wood -these are not that. They are just stand alone rooms with a little space between each unit. The kitchenette, bed and bathroom are all in one place – just perfect for vacations right?

“This is quaint,” Chris said sarcastically as he unlocked the door and peered into the darkened room. “Cujo?” he asked causing me to laugh – I hadn’t thought of that horror movie in years. I don’t think Jamie got it – I’ll explain it to her later.

Ronnie was right – this place smelled like mildew and old ass and it looked like maybe someone had robbed it, but then had second thoughts about this junk and put it back.

“Where will you guys be, Sir?” Jamie asked sweetly

“I was thinking we would drive around for a little while, maybe hit a bar, grab a nice meal and then come back to the Office. Why, you want us to hide under the bed in case these guys jump out and try to rape you?” Bill was being Bill – his complete lack of concern for us was on one level humiliating but I think on another he was trying to make us less nervous by being circumspect.

“No sir, they are going to basically rape us. That is how we make our money right?” I wish she didn’t sound like such an angel when she says things like that – It set of my maternal instinct to protect and shield her even if she didn’t want that.

“It’s only rape if they don’t pay, hon.” I offered a supportive touch to my daughter’s wrist. My ass was STILL stinging from the branching I got, and I wanted a drink of water bad – but I tried to remain solemn and reassuring.

“So do we just walk up and down the street or how do we find them?” Jamie changed the subject.

“No, you sit in here with your finger up your ass and wait for them to knock.” I think I was the only one who was sensing a hidden context in Chris’s sarcasm. I think he was nervous for us – and rightly so.

“If Rahjid makes up new rules for us, do we have to follow them, Sir?” Jamie flashed her baby blues at her father. I think my daughter doesn’t really understand the power of her smile and angelic girl next door look. I think she can make even the most hardened heart stop and rethink their actions.

“Makes you appreciate my rules doesn’t it?” Bill was propping himself up and looking in my direction.

“That it does Sir” I answered without hesitation. “Your punishment system could scale like a socket that could increase or decrease in size depending on the nut you are trying to crack – and it was easy to understand.” I admitted.

“I think you are talking about a ratchet, but I get your meaning. Yes, that was pretty brilliant.” Bill was patting himself on the shoulder. I let him feel important without admitting I had secretly come up with the way his infraction, corrections and judgments worked so that they balanced in scope to how big of a rule violation it was. “Do you two cunts need an affirmation to get started or can you get your little asses in gear now?”

I looked down at the one bed, and the water dripping from a brown-soaked tile in the ceiling into a pan and back at my husband and son. “Will you give us one without putting that metal thing in our asses, please Sir?” I smiled wistfully at Bill and he laughed and shook his head yes.

My daughter and I stripped once again inside our room. We had only had clothes on for about five minutes today – I suppose this would be something we should get used too.

We took the ‘doggy position’ on the dirty brown Burber carpet – placing our heads on the floor almost like we were kissing it and holding our asses apart after neatly folding our clothes and setting them to the side quickly.

I heard the sound of an ice cold can of soda cracking open and then the satisfying glug-glug and fizz and my Son’s “Ahhh”. My lips were dry and I was so envious that he was enjoying it while I was down on the floor – lucky bastard. I have to keep telling myself to take my medicine like a good girl and not hold it against him. I would have (and did) treat him the same way when the shoe was on the other foot.

“Where did you get that Coke?” Bill asked.

“Rahjid,” Chris answered adding, “This is supposed to be Indian Coke, I think they put nutmeg in it.”

“Want some cinnamon, Sir?” my daughter wiggled her butt at her brother flirtatiously while maintaining her position. She was talking about the enemas we had received earlier in the night containing half my spice rack from the kitchen.

“Don’t tempt me or you’ll be walking around with this can up your tail pipe instead of just that butt plug.” Chris got the last word in.

“Okay Cunts, let’s start with Cow-tits here first since she volunteered you two for this. You still ready to be my good little whore?” Bill started the affirmation.

“Yes Sir, I am ready to fuck, suck and be plucked.” I tried to channel my daughter’s positive energy.

“If someone asks why you have a tattoo of whore on your ass, what will you tell them?” Bill asked.

“To remind me I am owned and under discipline as a whore and so that I cannot ever deny it to even myself, much less people who can see my fat ass, Sir.” I wasn’t happy with how wordy that was but it seemed to please Bill.

“Who owns that ass?” Bill kicked my legs a little wider apart.

“You do Sir.” I heard Chris cough before I could add “My husband and my son, are my owners.”

“Is there anything a trick is going to ask to do to you and your whore of a daughter that you won’t do?” Bill asked enthusiastically.

“I don’t think so, Sir?” I tried to think of all the disgusting things I had done so far and whether I would do them again. I am pretty sure I would and I couldn’t think of any new things – but a part of me was a little hesitant and Bill could sense that.

“They can fuck you in all three holes?” My husband was making sure I understood my last answer.

“Yes Sir, throat fuck me, fuck my cunt or my fat ass,” I was instantly reminded of the stinging from Rahjid’s confounded almond branch as soon as I said ass. “They can even spank or beat me.” I volunteered.

“I think your mother is a pain slut,” Bill said to Chris.

“Are you a pain pig, Mom?” Chris rarely called me mom these days and I kind of wish he didn’t. It seemed even more humiliating at times like these than ‘cow tits’ even.

“Yes Son, I am a pain pig,” I wasn’t sure what one was, and I was tempted to point out that I had endured birthing both him and Jamie but now was not the time to make him or myself feel guilty or weird.

“You like wearing your passport up your ass everywhere you go?” Chris and Bill switched off during affirmations effortlessly like a team to keep the energy and intensity up. Chris poked the lid to my butt plug with a finger I think while he asked.

“Yes Sir, I am glad your father and you are so thoughtful to give sluts like us a gift. We own nothing and manage nothing because you are the boss of us besides these butt plugs.”

“You are going to be good girls, keep your plugs clean, and listen to your pimps, even Rahjid right?”

“Yes Sir, as always we are obedient little twats to you. Am I to treat him as a key-holder or another Owner?” I asked back.

“We aren’t following the old rule system, remember?” Chris had a fair-point. The concept of key-holders was under the rules that were suspended. “He is your pimp, but just remember that not only are WE your pimps, but we own that cunt.”

“Yes Sir, you do.” I was oddly excited by the flying by the seat of my pants feeling of not having structure coupled by the familiarity of our pep talk ritual.

“Okay then dad, come on I am HONNGRY” Chris announced the affirmation was over abruptly focusing on his hunger.

“What? What about your sister?” Bill said something even though Jamie was too polite to pipe up.

“You do that one. I need to take a piss.” Chris answered.

“The toilet is right over there.” Bill pointed to a toilet three feet away.

“Piss in that fucking cat box? Nah, I want to go somewhere sanitary.” Chris thought for a moment “You two better not take the privilege of using that toilet too lightly. You first need to go ask Rahjid if he wants to supervise and time you – you should get no more than three minutes, and whatever you do – don’t sit down on the toilet seat!”

Judging from how dirty and stained the outside of the bowl was, I hadn’t planned on it. Chris opened the thin screen door and walked outside. It dawned on me that Bill had never shut the cabin door and had only shut the screen door on the inside of the cabin. I guess there was no one here at the cabins who probably didn’t know we were sluts – so the other whores had probably heard us.

“Okay Ass-face, your turn.” Bill turned his attention on Jamie “You scared? Don’t lie to me.”

“I am a little bit nervous Sir, but serving with Mom and knowing I can call you and Chris if we get into a jam, I think I can handle it.” I would have expected that reaction from a girl getting in her car to drive to college but not for what we were doing.

“What was the most fun thing you did all day?” Bill asked. I could sense Jamie’s confusion as she went through the day in her head. That is why it is such a good idea to journal this stuff, it all becomes a strange blur of pussy torture, gags and humiliation if you do not.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, I ask you a question, you disgusting slut!” Bill tried to sound dangerous but it was difficult when the question was ‘what was the most fun you had all day’. I don’t know what I would have answered – from the awkward licks of Rosco on my ass to spending the afternoon being impaled by the stairwell end piece that I picked out when we moved into our house, there really hadn’t been a lot of fun.

“Fucking my brother, sir.”

I would have said the affirmation before we left the house – now that I think about it.

Fucking her brother? Wait, that was the most ‘fun’? I wanted to hear Bill make her explain this one and he did.

“You asked what was the most fun, and the discipline, pain and training isn’t supposed to be fun. I could have lied and said that doing white alert around Mrs. Waxerman was the most fun but it was missing something today – Chris wasn’t there to be silly and egg me on. I think fucking him in the bathroom was the most fun I had all day, if I had to pick.”

“That was an unexpected answer,” Bill admitted he had expected to hear ‘none of it was fun’. “You aren’t here to have fun! You are here to make money! Get serious, get your pussy plowed and then get paid.” Bill decided to offer another piece of advice, “But if you and your mother can have fun with it, then try too. I really appreciate what you too are doing to get my high school stuff back. It was not necessary, but I think you two are something else and I guess I wouldn’t have expected any less than you going above and beyond my expectations. You two call us if you run into trouble. Try to use your common sense about any rules he makes up. It might be better to take a punishment from me than to do something he said that was too dangerous. Okay you snots, if you tell your brother I said all this, I’ll tell him your favorite part of the day was fucking him. I love you both.”

With that he put kisses on his hands and patted us each on the butt, “Now get dressed and get to work.” As he walked out into the distance, letting the screen door slam behind him, I could hear him say, ‘Chris, get away from that, you don’t know where it’s been’.

“Aww Dad, but it looks cool.” Chris said and then I could no longer hear their friendly banter back and forth. I let myself have a secret smile – this was my second favorite affirmation of all time.

I was the first to get up and start getting dressed. Jamie and I started talking about strategies on the street and how we were going to carry our cell phone in the waist band of our skirts with a condom. “Should we walk together or separate?” I asked.

“Well, in school, usually if two girls are walking together, I’ve noticed boys are less inclined to walk up to them, so maybe we should try it independently?” She sounded so bookish and wise. She was right of course but I wanted to do it together. Was that selfish? To share this hardship and keep each other company? Was I being needy and clingy? Bad mom! I thought to myself.

“You are right, okay let’s still stay fairly close at first, okay?”

“So how do we do it?” Jamie asked as we left our cabin and walked towards the ominous sidewalk of Martin Luther King Blvd.

“I think we prowl up and down the sidewalk, and wait for them to stop. Some of them are going to try to bargain and barter, just tell them the prices.” I knew she remembered the prices but we went over those once again. She asked if we had to go back to the cabin for sex and I told her plainly that for blowjobs and quick sex she might as well do it right in the car. “Just don’t let them take you too far, jump out of the car if it looks like they are going to abduct you.”

“Oh mom, jeez!” She dismissed what I said. In the back of my mind I wondered what they might do with a hot young thing like her. I knew most of these guys just want to get off and if they were going to abduct someone – they would just as easily grab anyone anywhere.

I admit I can be over-protective. I took on all the housework, the bills, and the work around the house and then I let myself get mad when everyone took me for granted. That is what started this crazy family feud melt-down.

“You’ll get some looky-loos”. I told her about the guys who will drive up, look at her and then drive away only to circle back fifteen minutes later to do it again that I had encountered last time.

That is when the first car pulled up, took one look at me and my daughter and said “The young one, hop in.”

Jamie looked at me and I nodded yes to her and off she went. I could hear him say, “Wow, you smell great” and her telling him it was cinnamon before they rode away. I recall when her friends came over and she had just learned to ride a bike how I worried that she would scrape a knee or get hit by a car – multiply that by one hundred and you have a sense for the fear I had. At the same time, she is older now and sensible and – okay who am I kidding, my asshole puckered by itself and stayed that way watching her drive off.

I was alone walking on the streets as a prostitute. This wasn’t my first time doing that – but two weeks ago I hadn’t been through nearly as much. I was less naïve and less afraid of what might happen but I was also suddenly aware of how empty it felt without Jamie to share this experience with.

I felt like I was a Dancer in an old Bob Seger song walking alone down a dusty highway.

How does that song go?

I remember standing on the corner at midnight

Trying to get my courage up

There was this long lovely dancer in a little club downtown

I loved to watch her do her stuff

Through the long lonely nights she filled my sleep

Her body softly swaying to that smoky beat

Down on mainstreet…

Wow, I could hear it in my head like I had an iPOD on and it just seemed to fit this situation perfectly.

I kept looking for cars that passed on by to slow down but none did.

“It’s still early yet,” Ronnie emerged out of the shadows. She looks so beautiful from a distance like Halle Berry with a blonde wig but as she gets closer she looks like Chuck Berry with a blond wig. I know that’s mean but if you saw her you would laugh.

“Oh Hi there, Ronnie?” I asked.

“You know damn well who it is,” she was holding a cigarette like she was born with it as an extension of her person. She looked at me as if she was going to say ‘You aint shit’ but as she approached I could hear her say “I aint Captain Save-a-hoe.”

“I never said you were, Ma’am?”

“I aint no god-damned Ma’am either. You aint never better call me that again, or I’ll break this shoe off in your ass, you hear me?” she was plucky and streetwise. I had a feeling she had grown up on the streets and she was probably as tough as she sounded.

“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.” I admit it is really hard to stop calling people Ma’am and Sir once you get into that habit. It sounded as weird to me to stop saying it as it had when I first started saying it to Bill and Chris.

“You cannot offend me, what you can do is get the fuck off my corner before I take a bite out of you okay? You see this?” she held up a shiny fork.

“Yes,” I stifled the urge to add ‘Ma’am’ again.

“I done stabbed three ho’s and five tricks with this. I will put a fork in your ass, and that’s when you know you are done. You feel me, I done told you, I am not Captain Save-A-Hoe out here.”

“You keep saying Captain Save-A-Hoe, what does that mean?” I should have just walked away before I got tetanus or worse from that fork but I have to admit I was curious.

“It means I aint out here to hear your bullshit sad sack story, about why you used to be god-damned Mrs. Brady with a Homecoming Queen for a daughter, and how you working your way through college and all that drama. If you are expecting me to talk sense into your fool head about getting out of the game, then I aint the one.”

“No, Mah..” I was about to say Ma’am when I caught myself. “I would never ask you to talk me out of this.”

“Then why you walking out here on the street for? You know you two look too white-bread for meth-heads.” Ronnie asked skeptically. In the darkness by the cherry-light of her cigarette she once again looked like a rare beauty.

“You would probably never believe the story I have,” I smiled thinking back on how things had evolved from simply wanting the guys to take out the trash.

“You don’t think we all got stories out here? You would believe I was once a god-damned English teacher? It true. I aint lie – You probably some white bread house wife bored with your life. Swinging on the weekend with the neighbors aint enough of a thrill - so now you out here selling booty for a thrill.”

I did not want to argue with her – obviously she was wrong about my motivations but the full story would take a long time to tell and Jamie was already ahead by one customer. “You hit the nail on the head,” I know we get in trouble for manipulating and lying but Bill DID say “white alert” and that means I can lay things on thick.

In a way we are really doing ‘black alert’ now – the special protocol Bill and I had about me at work where I basically pretended to be a sex addicted ding-bat who needed someone to control me. I wouldn’t say ‘black alert’ to Ronnie though – I think she’d take that one the wrong way.

‘You go on now then and get you some of your fill fucking for money on the street so you can take that back witcha to the bridge club. I aint gonna say nuffin about you and that underage daughter of yours neever.”

I thanked her and walked back towards the motel. It was still early and other than a ‘looky-loo’ slowing down to look at me and drive off no one was biting yet.

I had time to take out my phone and tap out a little of the journal you are reading now while I stood on the side of the road dressed as a street whore waiting for someone to pick me as a fuck buddy. I kept looking for Jamie and wondering if she was okay.

A black sedan pulled over and rolled down his window. I sauntered over all sexy like and asked, “Are you looking for a date?” I popped my shirt down over my shoulder to reveal my nipple to him and he smiled at me.

“Oh no you did not, Cheek-ah” I heard the thick accent of a very annoyed Doris coming from behind me. “This is my spot and my regul-ah, and I know he is here to fuck me in my little chooch-ah, aren’t you Tommy?”

“You know I love you,” I could see in his eyes that he wanted me but he was conflicted. I backed out of the window and turned around to face her and apologize.

“Tommy cums every week for Mama-cita Doris, don’t you baby?” she gave me a nasty look while her voice dripped with sugary sweetness and hopped in his car to ride down a side street.

“Shit,” I said out loud as I struck out twice.

Maya emerged out of the darkness as if in response to my concerns and said, “Don’t let a little rejection get you down, baby - It is a numbers game.” She stuck out her thumb at a passing truck and just like that he stopped and let her in without a word. She blew me a kiss as she breezed into the passenger seat. “Oooh, a cowboy, I love cowboys!” she giggled to the driver.

She made it look so easy. There still wasn’t a lot of traffic and I didn’t expect there to be on a Tuesday. I had been lucky that Monday I worked because there weren’t any other girls there and I could turn tricks almost back to back. I think the fact they were lined up for me and it just kept going nonstop made it so much easier to accept. This lonely last girl standing on the sidewalk stuff was playing hell with what little ego I had left.

A disgusting homeless man was walking up the street – the backpack on his shoulder probably holding every possession he has in life.

He looked me up and down as I greeted him, sighed and kept walking. I didn’t expect he had any money anyway.

“Hey, you!! The Cow Tits!” Rahjid whistled to me from behind a glass window in his office.

I hustled over to where he was standing “Yes Sir?”

“You are not trying the hardest to get them hard,” He smiled at his play on his words.

“Yes Sir, I am trying, it’s just slow.”

“You need to smile, you look like you smell the fart!” he grimaced at me. I wanted to reply ‘that was some pep talk’ sarcastically but I was still feeling his punishment from earlier so I wasn’t going to try to be cute with him.

I smiled and put my shoulders back, then walked back out to the sidewalk when he gave me leave to do so.

It took three more looky-loos and drive-ups before I finally got a nibble on my line. He was driving a yellow mustang and he said, “Do you do everything?”

“Anything and everything, Sir”

“I have ten dollars,” he offered. He was middle aged, unshaven and looked like the typical middle-class family guy.

I wanted to ask him if he thought anyone would do ‘anything’ for ten dollars but I bit my lip and offered “I can beat you off for ten dollars, Sir?”

“I can beat my own self off, that isn’t very much.” He groaned as if I had upset him.

“I am sorry Sir, for one hundred I can take you back to my cabin and rock your world though?”

“A hundred, that is a little much for you isn’t it?” that was amazingly hurtful coming from a stranger who was checking out my body and wanting to have sex with me. There was a time when that would have been devastating but as it was it was just hurtful.

“You are probably right Sir, I am not worth a hundred, how about twenty for a blow job or fifty and I’ll suck your dick and let you fuck me?”

“Raw dog?” He sounded skeptical.

“Condom sir, but I promise you’ll love how I put it on.” I held up the condom packet I had in my waist band and made the universal ‘dick sucking’ motion with my head to entice him.

“Fifteen and you suck my dick and balls,” he haggled like it was a real imposition to even get a blowjob in the first place.

“You aren’t making this easy Sir, how about twenty and I promise you, I am a first class dick gobbler,” I stuck my index finger all the way down my throat and pulled it out with a kiss. I had been ‘throat training’ for two weeks now - I was pretty damned good.

“You got a room?” he asked.

“Yes Sir, or I can hop in the car and slob your knob right there, curb side delivery service.” I winked at him. He didn’t seem to think my flirtations were that adorable – which again was humiliating in and of itself. I feel like chopped liver or there is something wrong with me – given how critical this guy is of coming off twenty bucks.

Am I wrong to think I look good for my age and that he should consider this a bargain? Is that “prideful” of me? Is this what true humiliation feels like?

I thought having to fuck strangers as a whore was going to be the worst part of tonight – but the rejection and the self-doubt is really more painful than sitting with my kitchen chair leg up my cunt while Mrs.Waxerman sneers derisively at me and that is saying a lot. Don’t get me wrong – sitting on that chair was physically painful but I think my pussy will heal faster than my growing self-esteem issues.

It makes me wonder if Chris’s friends were just being kind when they called me a ‘MILF’.

So far it’s just been intense embarrassment for having to show my tits and ass to strangers – but for the most part they want to see. This is something far more agonizing – offering my open mouth to love this guy’s cock and he thinks twenty bucks is too much to ask?

Ouch!

Either I am hungry as hell from not eating anything but a bowl of dog food and a little cum, or watching this guy make up his mind whether it’s worth it to get his dick sucked by me really hurts. I think a little of both – Bill promised he would give us some food if we rode in the truck nude but I think he meant after we finish working. Gah, I am famished.

“Sure, why not?” he pulled his car over into the parking lot. When I told him 5B was a few cabins further down he acted like it was an imposition to make him walk three rooms over.

I tried to smile invitingly –despite finding myself intensely disliking the guy despite the fact I was about to let him fuck my mouth.

He complained as soon as I opened the door to our room – we hadn’t bothered locking it because there was nothing of value inside. He was entitled to complain about the mildew smell, that was pretty bad and it only enhanced the otherwise seedy and disgusting aspect of what we are about to do – trade sex for money.

I promptly got down on my knees with practiced precision as I had been doing so often this past week and started to unzip his pants with a playful smile. “You aren’t even going to get naked?” he was disappointed.

“Oh no Sir, I’d be happy to strip for you,” I tried to sound bubbly and effervescent like my daughter but it came off a little forced. He looked at me like I was nuts as I stepped out of my outfit and put it on the bed.

“I like the piercings!” He commented casually while putting a finger through one of my nipple rings and tugging down on it. The mean bastard then put a finger in my pussy and wiggled it around “You even shave down there, very nice”.

I kneeled again in front of him with an accommodating smile on my face. I didn’t want to admit the thoughtless pig was turning me on – I also didn’t stop him from continue to finger me while I took his dick out. He started to pinch both of my nipples roughly after he took his finger out of my pussy. There was nothing sensual about it – it was as mechanical as some of the nipple milking exercises the guys have us do. I opened the condom package and put it on my tongue so that I could roll it down his dick with my mouth and began to suck. He didn’t even acknowledge how clever that little trick was.

That is why I felt a little sense of satisfaction when he accidentally squirted himself in the eye with a stray spray of my breast milk. “WTF was THAT?” he demanded.

His cock was big but not so big I couldn’t talk while giving him an expert hummer. I had already adopted the ‘Bubble-Bubble Pop’ song’s rhythm my son had trained us to hum in our head when we give a hummer. “That is breast milk, Sir.”

“Gross! It’s me who is supposed to squirt on you,” he let my nipples go abruptly and wiped his face. If Bill had seen me play with my own nipples without being told I would have been given a punishment but he wasn’t here –and right now I wanted to touch them in a way that turned me on.

I could tune out this disgusting man and just make love to his cock.

I have to wonder if the constant discipline and sexual energy of the training has changed my standards forever - I am actually turning myself on while I gobble this stranger’s cock wrapped in latex. I wonder the same thing about how actually encouraging Jamie was to Chris about fucking him – are we becoming nymphomaniac sex beasts?

Could it be the hormone pills that the guys gave us to start lactating? I think it is a common desire to want to blame some outside ‘magic pill’ or say you were hypnotized that way you don’t have to take responsibility for your actions – but in the back of my mind I really do wonder how much of that is contributing to the fact I don’t have any guilt about deep-throating a strange dick for twenty dollars.

My trick (I don’t even know his first name) just patted my head like a puppy and called me “good girl” – Okay, let me qualify my last statement. I am not registering the kind of revulsion, shock and disgust I should be about doing this. I am actually prolonging his cumming by teasing his dick playfully with flicks of my tongue.

The screen door squeaked open and I looked up but kept my mouth stuffed full of cock. I also didn’t take my fingers away from tweaking my nipples. It was Jamie “Oh Hi Mom,” she said while leading a man twice her age into the cabin. “Should we wait outside?”

“You can use the bed, I am almost finished.” I choked a reply over the latex while holding my own hair up. (I don’t know why I do that while I suck. I think it’s just a nervous habit or I am used to having my hair pulled now).

“God damn, I could have fucked your hot-ass daughter?” my trick didn’t seem to be the least bit surprised by the intrusion. Instead, he was watching her get undressed as the man she brought in looked at us nervously.

“Please cum for me, Sir….I want your load…” I begged while taking a deep breath. I will admit I was also a little jealous that he had tuned me out completely to look at Jamie’s pert, youthful body.

“Why do you care? I am going to spunk in the condom anyway.” He sneered back at me while looking back over at Jamie who was trying to coax the man she was with to get naked. I didn’t blame her for not wanting to share a room with us while I sucked a stranger’s cock.

“Fuck it,” I thought to myself as I unsheathed the ribbed condom from his dick. I’ll just spit some of his cum into it at the end. I have to admit the warm, soft flesh of the dick made it much easier for me and within thirty seconds he was blowing his wad into the back of my throat – but still looking at my daughter who was kneeling on the bed smiling patiently for us to finish.

I told you earlier I was hungry and had only eaten a bowl of dog food this morning. I fucked up in a big way – I swallowed his hot cum. “Shit, shit, shit,” I cussed instantly regretting the decision to consume his entire white gift to me.

“I am out.” he slid his dick out of my mouth, grabbed my skirt that was laying nearby and wiped himself off, threw down twenty bucks and left without so much as a ‘Wam-Bam, Thank you Ma’am’ on the way out to me.

“Mom, you’ve got to get the money up front,” Jamie chided me in her typical upbeat manner.

“I accidentally swallowed his cum. I was going to spit some of it back into the condom.” I said in shock as I remained kneeling.

“You could tell Rahjid he didn’t cum?” Jamie offered friendly advice.

“Little miss honesty – advising me not to take my punishment?” I was already stepping into my now cum-stained skirt. Her trick was patiently standing there listening to us – probably thinking we were ultra-perverted street whores.

“Rahjid isn’t Dad or Chris,” Jamie said as if that made a difference as to who she lied to too now, “But you are right, you should probably just let him punish you and get it over with. It was just ten swats with that branch thingy last time?” Jamie patted the bed beckoning her trick to have a seat next to her.

“That thing hurt!” I grumbled while slipping into my shoes.

“Oh you big baby,” Jamie threw a pillow at me playfully and I took that as my cue to get out.

“I’ll leave you two love birds alone.” sticking the used condom in my mouth like chewing gum and walking over to Rahjid’s office to submit myself to his discipline.

This was turning out to be some night.