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Family Feud IV

Chapter 10 Jamie’s Journal -Old McDonald Had a Farm


The Family Feud IV

Chapter Ten

Jamie’s Journal -Old McDonald Had a Farm


STAR COUNT:

WENDY: 51

Get out of jail cards: 1

WHORE: 5,3,0,0,1

JAMIE: 59

Get out of jail cards: 1

WHORE: 4,3,0,0,0


**Note to reader: This is Jamie’s journal from Sunday afternoon detailing the events of approximately 4:30 pm when she is walking to her first ‘odd job’. In order to increase readability, some of the dialogue exchanged was altered to appear in a ‘narrative’ story format.


“Alright Stinkerbell, you know what to do?” Chris asked right before I left our house dressed in a blue two piece swimming Brazilian thong swimsuit that left very little to the imagination.


“Yes Sir, I am to report to Mr. Hooker and obey him for three hours as my handler, and then report to Mrs. Waxerman and tell her what I did at the flea market wrong and say that my Father left my punishment up to her.”


I’ve been riding a roller coaster ride for the last two weeks that feels like it is going straight down. At times I have to admit to a certain amount of exhilaration as to the wind pushes past my cheeks. There are other times where I am scared and afraid the ride is never going to stop and there are there times like this one. I wasn’t afraid and I had almost fallen into a routine where my brother is sending me out the door and while he is laughing at increasingly humiliating me I am just nodding and going along with it.


Am I a good sport who is accepting rightful payback? Am I enjoying this? Am I just continuing it because my mom is doing it or because I gave my word or because I have grown accustomed to it? I really don’t know if the answer is D) All of the above at different times.


I could have opted to draw a correction card from the ‘funishment’ fishbowl and follow the instructions but I decided to take my changes with Waxerman. I was probably going to regret that decision later, it was kind of a ‘the devil you don’t know, versus the devil you do.’


“What did you do to deserve punishment, Ass Face?” Chris questioned me.


“I didn’t shit when I was given an opportunity and then fifteen minutes later I texted for permission, Sir”

He was talking to me like I am a precocious child, and I could answer with this baby talk like lisp thanks to the tongue ring – Aren’t they supposed to make you feel cool and sophisticated? Hey Mr. Ryang, your product is defective.


“And?” he was waiting for more. I am slipping I know I am supposed to give complete answers, Chris was right for prodding me to be more forthcoming.


“And, I shit in a puddle behind one of the stands at the Flea Market, Sir” I knew he was laughing not only at my lisp but the visual of me squatting in front of a bunch of people and taking a shit. I was positive Chris was implying I should make that sound like it was my idea to do and not his order. He slapped me on my ass and gave me a ‘good girl’ the way he did mom and sent me down the street on my own to walk to my ‘odd job’.


“Come Back with an ass full of cum, and we’ll talk about more stars!” I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me or Mom but I just smiled and waved as if he were telling us ‘Good luck’. It amazes me that such a disgusting suggestion has me wondering just how much it would take to fill up my ass, and how I could do it if I am supposed to squat right after I get fucked and let it drain out.


I do that with everything – if a teacher gives me an extra credit assignment I am already thinking about what books I need to read in order to finish it and how long it is going to take to complete compared to how many extra credit points it is going to give me.


He had called up Mrs. Waxerman’s neighbor and offered to rent me out to him after he expressed an interest in me mowing his lawn and doing odd jobs for him. If this worked out it would be a good way for me to contribute to the house. I was told if I don’t wear a chastity belt he can play with my pussy and ass but if he wants more I have to tell him he has to pay an additional twenty for me to suck his dick and fifty to fuck me in the ass. The part that makes it very weird is that he seems like such a nice, kindly gentleman I can’t picture him doing any of that to me.


I think there is this apprehension about walking to one’s doom but what is worse is walking towards the unknown situation like this.


It was a nice sunny day and people were out jogging and biking. Several cars slowed down to check me out and I got several odd side long glances from people as they passed me on the sidewalk but no one questioned me. I thought that was strange considering how completely out of place I looked wearing only a string bikini in middle-America suburbia.


I don’t know if I expected the cops to pull over with sirens and say “Excuse me Ma’am, did you know that bikini is WAY too small to wear in your neighborhood” or I was just hoping it would happen so I didn’t have to continue on.


I don’t’ want to paint myself as a scaredy-cat, a part of me walks on because walking forward is all I can do. I accept this is my fate and I am supposed to be dressed this way and I am facing it as bravely as I can, but a small piece of me is the mouse who keeps hoping it’s all just a dream. (It isn’t - Chris has pinched me enough that I know I am not sleeping! Lol).


It is strange only a few years ago if he pinched me in the backseat when mom was driving some place she’d take my side. Now, it is me and mom in the back and we have to thank him for pinching us any place he chooses – my how the worm turns.


What does that even mean? A worm turning? I heard it in a movie some place.


I should be thankful at least they let me remove my gold tit chain and the weight hanging from my clit ring. If you want a visual of how skimpy my thong is the two piercings I received in my cunt lips are only half-concealed by what little material I have in the front and the bottoms in the back are just a string that disappear in my crack.


I half expected to run into someone I know and I was half-hoping that it was Bradley Jenkins (I guess that is a quarter wishful thinking if you do the math! Lol!). I was lucky enough to make it to Mr. Hooker’s house in one piece.


I knocked on his door and he smiled as he opened the door “Wow, that is a different swim suit than the one you had on yesterday isn’t it?” He sounded genuinely interested and not sarcastic.


“Yes Sir, would you like me to start on the yard or the inside?”


“Come inside, you can do the yard when it is cooler outside. I take it you didn’t bring a cover up or a towel in case someone sees you like that?”


“They would have already seen me at that point, Sir?” I didn’t get his mention and he just shrugged.


“You can call me James or Jim if you prefer, you don’t have to call me Sir.” He said casually as he showed me around his spacious and very tidy home. “I used to own my a farm, but I gave it up after years of working with horses and moved here years ago when this land was mostly just cow pasture.” He made small talk with me for a little while and I assumed he was nervous about giving me instructions.


“If you don’t mind I’d rather call you Sir, so I don’t assume to be too familiar. You are my boss and I don’t want to be disrespectful, James?”


“If you want to get formal you could call me Doctor James Hooker VI, Ph.D.” he shrugged at a wall of books in his living room and said “But really, Jim or James is fine, I just want you to be comfortable. Your name is Jamie so I thought it might be confusing to call me James.”


“What room should I start on, James?” I asked him and he seemed taken aback that I had jumped straight digging into the chores “You only have me for three hours, Sir so I wanted you to get your money’s worth?” I flashed him my big goofy smile.


“You could clean the kitchen there are some dishes in there.” He returned my smile with one of his own, it was broad and sweet.


I nodded and awkwardly began to unhook the snap in the back of my bikini top. I knew this was coming and I felt like maybe he was just toying with me or testing me.


“What are you doing?” he asked me.


“I usually clean in the nude, I just assumed you were expecting that and I apologize Sir.” I took my hands away from the hook and put them to the side.


“Why do you clean in the nude?” He eyed me suspiciously.


“So I don’t get any dirt on what I am wearing, and because it amuses my father and brother, Sir.”


Jim looked around as if he were scanning for hidden cameras in his own home and then answered “Well, if it makes you feel at home, by all means. The swim suit really wasn’t covering all that much – You only live once, right?”


He pressed me for details about why I was doing this and at first I was coy and pretended like what was doing was totally normal “Doing what, Sir?”


I think the casual way I accepted him staring at my nudity as I bent over and let him overtly watch me as I scrubbed his floor and cleaned his house was turning him on. I would have been apprehensive about him watching my nudity a week ago but today I was much more at home and I felt I was in control of the situation.


Even though he held all the cards and was fully dressed, the way he lusted after me with his eyes told me that I held him spellbound hanging on my every word. He pressed me for answers and seemed disappointed that I was not answering all of his questions in detail. I tried to but he wasn’t Chris or Dad and the way he asked the questions made me defensive.


“Why did you start doing this?” The questions he asked were open ended and I didn’t even know where to begin? Was it at the point that my mom and I turned a corner with my brother and father and started treating them like our personal servants or was it even before that? Or did he just mean when mom and I agreed to serve?


Every time I tried to politely and truthfully answer he grew increasingly annoyed as if I weren’t following his line of questions and it felt as if he were trying to talk me out of it. “What makes you think you HAVE to be here doing this?”


What did he mean by the ‘this’ I was doing? Serving him in the nude? Answering his questions or the bigger picture of being a whore for my father and brother in order to help with the bills? Or was it even a larger question like the imponderable questions all great thinkers eventually ask about existence – why are any of us here? What is the point of it all?


His questions started to hone in on my motivations for serving more than the things I had done and learned along the way. The time passed as he wrung from me thoughts that I’ve revealed in my journal but only first came to as part of our conversations. He was clearly a well-educated man even though he pretended to be a simple farmer from the Country and he treated me as if I weren’t simply a silly girl who hadn’t even completed high school.


The difficulty of pondering his questions made me wonder if he wanted the answers as much as he wanted me to arrive at the conclusions. I began to wonder if the affirmations had been designed to intentionally do that or had unintentionally been doing that. I liked that form of questioning because it was more specific and I understood the boundaries of what was being asked.


He left things vague and in doing so made me try to determine what he was even asking and I was beginning to see that had been this cleverly man’s intention all along.


It was so strange because after all I had done, I didn’t feel worthy of his respect. He built up my confidence and finally said “Do you understand that you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to?”


“Yes Sir, but I want to do ‘this’” –I laid it back on him that word ‘this’ and let him wonder what I meant by it.


‘Suit yourself,” he sighed adding “I tried”. He left it at left me puzzled. When my mom builds up my confidence we both resolve to toughen ourselves to the challenge ahead, but he was trying to get me to consider an entirely different path than I had felt I needed to be on.


Every time I offered a concern about it, he simply tsked me away adding “I see you have made up your mind on the matter, I will say no more. Why don’t you mow the lawn?” he was being polite but distant.


“Yes Sir, I will mow and edge the back and then if you’ll permit me to put on my swimsuit, I will do the front?” He was the one who had actually explained to me how to edge and trim a lawn the day prior when I came to do Waxerman’s lawn. He told me I did good work, but he showed me how to make it look much nicer and more presentable and I was very grateful. I struggled with a way to show him.


“Would you like me to suck your cock before I go?”


He looked at me as if I had asked him if he wanted to eat fried skunk. “No Child, I don’t believe I would. Why do you think that you have to offer sex to make people like you?” He regarded me with disappointment that wounded me in ways that the sharp physical pains I’ve endured couldn’t.


I had wanted to reward him for his attention and time today, I felt I had gotten more out of our long conversation about motivations than I might even realize at the time. I could not tell him that so I simply answered “Oh, it would be for twenty dollars, it wasn’t going to be free Sir.”


He had begun our conversation with an excited lust in his eye but he now looked upon me with what felt like pity.


“No of course it wouldn’t be.” He wouldn’t say any more and I walked out into his backyard to get his lawnmower and trim his yard. His lawn had been cut recently and it was neat and well cared for. He obviously took great pride in his yard. I felt silly as I pushed the start button on his lawn mower but I was told to do it and frankly I wanted some alone time to think about all that he had given me to think about.


I didn’t get that time to think of course. I had two hours of what I would consider a break compared to the rest of my training and now here were the Waxerman boys. The ‘Pooper Snoopers’ as my mom and I used to call them before we found out they were Mrs. Waxerman’s nephews.


I turned off the mower as they popped their impish heads over the white wooden fence between her property and Mr. Hooker. I went to “Code White” as was now the standing order around the Waxermans. My orders were to behave as a wanton slut in need of guidance in an effort to push the neighborhood gossip’s buttons. It was a game I actually had fun with the first few times we played it when Mom was around.


Yesterday at her house I saw a more vulnerable side to her and she genuinely seemed to like me. I was curious how that would play out today as I answered “Hello Sirs, I actually have to report to your aunt in an hour.” As if it didn’t surprise me at all they had been watching me mow the backyard in the nude.


In truth it really hadn’t surprised me – They always had a way of showing up whenever mom and I were sent out into our own backyard to sunbathe and I assumed they were so bored they were probably always running around the neighborhood looking in people’s backyards. There is probably some sort of genetic ‘nosy’ gene they share with their Aunt who does the same things with people’s dirty laundry – although she is the first to say she hates gossip, she lives for it.


They didn’t seemed surprised to see me in the nude sweating on Mr. Hooker’s lawn either. “You coming over like that?” Jimmy asked with a smile.


“No Sir, but I think I will end up like this.” I returned his smile right back at him. Their response was some giggles and after I told them I was to ask their Aunt for punishment and guidance there was even louder giggles. She had given me an admittedly painful thrashing and an enema the day before but there is something comforting about visiting familiar ground.


It just seemed every time we visited familiar ground there was something new even more terrifying there. When we were at the Flea Market when we met up with the old man from the arcade he had gone from gentle and sweet to cruel and unforgiving. When we were at Wendy’s it turned into a full-fledged piss drinking contest and sucking the guy’s dicked when we had only been spanked the time before.


It seemed that way as they informed me that their Aunt was on an errand and Delilah was in charge until she got home.


“What about me?” I could hear that southern drawl on the other side of the fence. I heard her clamor to pull herself up the way the boys were positioned and in a moment she was looking down at me like a cat that is about to pounce on a canary.


“Just that when your Aunt gets home I am supposed to seek her discipline, Ma’am” I answered as I replayed my brother’s instructions about how I was to approach this situation. They hadn’t told me what to do if she wasn’t home because we all assumed she would be.


“When she aint home, I am in charge, so you can seek mine.” Her devious smile would have sent the tiny hairs on the back of my neck up if I didn’t have them shaved off daily.


“I should call home before I do that, Ma’am” I think there is something dangerous about Delilah that would even make Cathy Griffin a little nervous.


“What and bother Chris? I know all about your little arrangement with him and your code white, so unless you want me to tell our Aunt about it, I suggest you report just as soon as you get done mowing the grass that has already been cut.”


She disappeared behind the fence to questions from her brothers “What is code white?” and “What are you gonna do” as they trailed her back into their house. I was once again truly nervous because with Mrs. Waxerman I had some idea of the limits of my suffering but with Delilah there may be none.


The final hour passed more slowly than I had hoped and I barely noticed the whistles and stares when I completed Mr. Hooker’s front yard. He kindly corrected me and told me that he used to be known as Professor Hooker and that the proper term was doctor and he just smiled as he watched me walk from his house to the neighbors. I wanted to answer with a play on words that I was Ms. Whore but I wasn’t sure he would appreciate the humor.


I walked up the Waxerman’s house in bare feet with only bikini and reached for the knocker. Gordon Waxerman opened the door as I did and told me to come on in.


The Waxerman house as I’ve previously mentioned is a gothic Victorian museum of antiques and family heirlooms all crammed together from what was obviously a much larger house at one time.


“So what did you do to get yourself in so much trouble you have to come here and ask for correction from little old me?” Delilah was sitting in a large chair that dominated the parlor area of Waxerman’s home.


I wanted to correct her that I was supposed to ask for correction from Victoria and not her but my brother’s instructions had been vague enough that technically it was true. She also knew about our ‘code white’ and I wasn’t sure how that little cat out of the bag was going to play out. I felt like I was on thin ice already so I told her the truth.


“I am here because when given an opportunity to relieve myself, I didn’t take it and then fifteen minutes I begged to be permitted to shit and piss and did so in a pothole behind the flea market.”


“AT FLEA WORLD? I LOVE THAT PLACE!” Jimmy Waxerman was the most excited of the three boys who stood next to their sister’s chair. They had actually seen my mother and I piss and shit in the yard and had demonstrated an infinite capacity to laugh at farts/poop humor so I wasn’t shocked by the fact they were thoroughly amused at what I had just said.


“Why didn’t you go when given the chance, are you just a dumb cow who wanted to waste time later?” Delilah asked calmly like a spoiled princess on the Queen’s throne surrounded by her knights. I could very easily see the boys dressed up like Cards and me in an Alice in Wonderland dress in some kind of perverted version of the fairy tale.


“No Ma’am, I had just been fucked up the ass for the first time and I didn’t realize the pressure it would put on my bowels” I answered her truthfully.


“No white alert now, are you kidding me?” Delilah pressed me for the truth. I could tell the boys had no idea what ‘code white’ or ‘white alert’ meant but they were curious and excited to hear this conversation. “Your brother said you were a virgin yesterday.” Delilah asked skeptically


“Yes Ma’am, I had anal sex for the first time, and I am still technically a virgin.” The pooper snoopers could barely contain their excitement as they chuckled at me.


“That sloppy went cunt has been touched and played with hasn’t it?” Delilah glared at me accusingly.


“Yes Ma’am, it has.”


“Have you gone down on my brothers?” she asked and the pooper snoopers looked cautious as if they were about to be caught and wanted me to hush up.


I didn’t dare lie since I had sucked them all off at the same pool party Delilah had attended the day before and she already knew more about my situation than I thought - there was no telling what else she knew. “Yes Ma’am, I did once each in the pool shed at the party yesterday.”


“So for a virgin, you are an awful big slut aren’t you?” Delilah was toying with me. I am pretty sure I was blushing and judging from the grins on her brothers they were enjoying watching me getting questioned like this. I was surprised she let me remain clothed (even if it barely covered anything – just for the extra layer of vulnerability).


“Yes Ma’am, I am a whore and a slut and I will let just about anyone fuck me in the ass or suck their dicks for money.”


“Did my brothers pay you?” her eye arched in suspicion.


“No ma’am, they said they would tell Mrs. Waxerman if I didn’t and try to get me in trouble with her and my father.”


Delilah glared at her brothers who were predictably cowering and looking apologetic before continuing “How do you think my Aunt would react to finding out you soiled her boys dicks with your whore lips before marriage?”


“No ma’am, but you asked me to be honest.”


“Honest? Are you turned on by the prospect I am going to strip you naked and stuff your poop hole with some of my Aunt’s old fashioned remedy?” Delilah reminded me of a sarcastic cat for some reason just then.


“No Ma’am” I stammered in reply.


“Prove it,” seeing I was confused she told me to remove my bikini and approach her. I knew it was inevitable I would be naked and frankly I was pleased the order eventually came.


“Your nipples are hard, elevated goose bumps” she considered me when I stood right in front of her naked. Her brothers had seen me naked in the flesh so many times but this was the first time I could feel their breath on my skin and it was making me even more uneasy. “Is your pussy wet?” she asked after sitting back in her chair.


“Yes Ma’am” I started to explain “But that is because since my piercings, I can’t help it. I have been like that constantly.”


“I believe you Jamie, I really do,” She hardly seemed sincere as she sat forward to look at me with cold, mocking eyes and pouty lips. “Poor, poor rich city girl, she can’t help her pussy getting wet standing in front of some young little perverted boys making googly eyes at her, is that how it is?” the honey of her soft Georgia drawl juxtaposed with the vinegar in her eyes.


“I don’t know what you want me to do, ma’am?” I was confused and unsure how to gain her approval – it seemed nothing I was or did met whatever standard she had for me.


“Are you willing to accept whatever punishment I mete out for your disgusting behavior today?” she said the word disgusting with a snarl that reminded of old Elvis movies.


“You haven’t told me what it is, yet Ma’am?” One thing about my brother and dad is that they never make me agree to something unless I know exactly what it is.


Her eyes flashed in righteous indignation “You don’t think whatever punishment you are given will be fair, for the embarrassment you are to your family, dear girl?”


“No ma’am…I mean yes Ma’am,” she giggled as I stumbled with my answer. She was intimidating me and feeling as vulnerable and alone as I did I was just letting her get away with it.


“Well, when you make up your mind, perhaps we can begin?” her accent reminding me of Reba McIntire the country singer for some reason.


“I am ready for my punishment, Ma’am” I stood at attention with hands behind my head and bit my lip.


“You don’t sound ready, little miss perfect,” she cooed. “You want me to punish you for what you did wrong, you need to ask nicely.”


I got on my knees but kept my hands behind my head “Please Ma’am, punish me for my wickedness!”


“Are you believing this?” she laughed right in my face as she looked at her giggling brothers mirthful faces. “Are you expecting me to call you a heathenous varlet and scamp?” she was referring to her aunt’s love of fanciful yet outdated words.


“No ma’am, I have been wicked, in my behavior and I beg of you to punish me for it.” I may have sounded a little too dramatic in my initial request so I tried sounding more sincere.


Jimmy added “Say pretty please with sugar on top!”


They couldn’t have been more than a few years younger than me but something about their crew cuts and the way they dressed like right out of 1960s TVland sitcoms made it even more humbling to stand naked in front of them and ask for punishment than if they had been older and more mature.


“Yes Sir, may I be punished, pretty please with sugar on top.” I am sure I almost had a tear in my eye.


“Why you want to be punished so badly?” Zeke asked me with a serious expression.


“If I do not get corrected for my bad behavior, I won’t learn to stop making the same dumb mistakes over and over, Sir” it was a well-practiced answer I had given my brother and father many times when they punished me.


“Bullshit!” Delilah interrupted “She wants to be punished because it turns her on to be treated like a disgusting little whore who, she is a masochist.”


I knew her brothers had no idea what the term masochist was and I only had a vague understanding of it at the time she said it. “No Ma’am, that isn’t true” I pleaded still on my knees in front of them.


“Prove it? We’ll punish you and if you aren’t wet and aroused then you are right, it was just for your wicked deeds, but if you are turned on then you will bend over and let my brothers each take you in the ass, since your precious pussy is broken.” They could still see the marker on my belly where it had been written earlier that day and they laughed.


I could have made the case that I was already wet, and I that I couldn’t help it but something about her challenge made me want to stand up to her. “If I win what do I get?” I tried to sound defiant but she just chuckled derisively as if I had no chance which made me feel even dumber.


“If you win, then I’ll march down to your house with you and ask your brother and father to punish me just like you.”


“Your brothers can watch too?” I summoned up as much courage as I could.


I could tell she actually thought about what it would be like to lose but she wouldn’t stumble with it for long “You are on, little miss twitch.”


What had I just done? I had made a bet over something I had trouble controlling at the best of times. I would imagine I had about as much control over my arousal as a nerd does when I bend over in class knowing full well that he can see right up my mini-skirt. The fact there was a small row of half-chubby tents raising because of me only made it even more provocative to me. I didn’t used to be such a dirty little whore, what is happening to me?


The punishment seemed simple at first – I was to lay on my back and raise my knees over chest so that they could bind my legs. Gordon even put a pillow under my back which at first I assumed was to provide me a little relief from Mrs. Waxerman’s hard wood floors. They were actually just wedging me up so that my asshole was almost directly over my head as if I were mid-way through a backwards somersault.


The first time a wooden rod struck my foot in the sensitive meaty part midway between the heel and the ball of the foot I let out an audible gasp and that only encouraged them. “Ticklish?” Delilah asked.


“How many do I get, Ma’am?” I answered as seriously as I could.


“You get twenty, but you get five more for talking.” That bitch could have just said twenty five - but it speaks to her sadism that she would start out with twenty and add five right away.


They struck me three more times and I held my breath on each down stroke – determined not to speak. My brother usually likes me to count and it has the added effect of regulating my breathing. Trying to remain silent only made my stomach muscles tighten and contract as she struck me a few more times.


“Notice how her round little asshole puckers up like it’s going to give you a kiss when I apply the rod?” I was so intent on remaining serious and holding my tongue that I barely heard her give her brothers pointers on what my body was doing.


“Gross!” they said almost in unison as she struck again and noticed it.


“Are you grinning, little miss thang?” Delilah asked me.


“No ma’am, I am just trying to remain quiet.”


“It does look like she is smiling.” Jimmy pointed out. Had I involuntarily smiled at the thought of how absurd this situation was? What is wrong with me?


Five more strikes and I was deadly serious because now it just stung like the dickens. I was trying to absorb the pain but this was one of the few places my brother and dad hadn’t been beating and I was completely sensitive there.


They were laughing at how my eyes would open about the same way my asshole did each time they struck me.


“Can we stick a finger in it?” Jimmy asked curiously.


“You don’t mind do you, little miss jezebel?” Why couldn’t she pick just one nickname for me and stick to it?


I wasn’t sure if I could say no or should say no, so I asked “Does it count as part of my punishment, Ma’am?”


“She has only had about half of her punishment now, what do you say boy’s? Should one of your pokes count as another of her strokes?” she made a lazy rhyme in her quaint but sexy southern drawl and they laughed.


They didn’t answer her verbally but soon I felt a rough finger poke itself into my asshole. His fingernails were rough and scratchy as he tried to ‘ploop’ into my butt the stroke went down on the soles of my feet. I looked up to see Jimmy smiling standing over me as he retrieved his finger to inspect it.


“My turn!” Gordon took his place.


Delilah asked Jimmy had he felt my asshole tighten around his finger when she struck me and he nodded that he hadn’t. He sniffed his finger and she scrunched her nose (the way I do involuntarily) to register her disappointment.


“Stab that finger into the sluts mouth first to get it good and wet, so you can get it in deeper Gordy, I am curious if she has as much muscle control around that pink little hole as she should.” Delilah’s southern accent and sadism were evoking an image of Cruella DeVille ordering her next fur coat from the pet store.


I couldn’t blame Gordon for playing along and jamming his stubby finger into my mouth to wet it and then driving it to the second knuckle up my ass with a twist at his Sister’s instruction. I am sure he was enjoying it and all but I don’t think the Pooper Snooper boys would have been this cruel without their sister’s influence.


Her strike caused me to wince and I thought the thin wooden dowel would break against my foot by how hard she struck. “Yeah I felt it, it gripped my finger when you hit it! Do it again, Sis!” Gordon shouted joyfully.


“No way, it’s my turn!” Zeke already had his finger dipped deep into my mouth to take a go.


“Gross don’t wipe it on your pants!” I heard Delilah admonish Gordon or Jimmy before adding “Just stick it back into this slut’s mouth, she doesn’t mind cleaning off her own filth, do you slut?”


“No ma’am” I cried as I answered because she lashed out catching me off guard with the rod before Zeke got a chance to penetrate my butthole with his finger.


Gordon wormed his finger in for what I think was strike fourteen and they all three repeated this exercise one more time (having me wet the finger before and clean it after). Delilah told them they had a preview of what it is going to feel like to fuck me in the ass and that I had better contract and tighten my ‘hole’ when I lose the bet.


I was trying to think about baseball, and unicorns and my Aunt and Grandmother in Indiana - anything to keep my mind off the aching feeling that I was over-stimulated and there was no way they were going to let me win this bet.


She applied the remaining eight strikes to my feet and I have to admit without the added humiliation of a finger testing the ring of my asshole for contractions it was anti-climatic – and right now the thing I needed most was anti-climax!!


When she finished with me they unbound my feet and had me stand up. My feet were still stinging but my ego had taken a bigger hit than my feet had. “Nipples are hard as diamonds” Delilah felt my cheeks adding “Warm and flush like a school girl at a Bieber concert” before sticking a finger in my pussy and drawing it back to lick it like a lollipop.


She looked me up and down “I think you are turned on by this,” She challenged.


“I was like this before you started, did I get more aroused?” a stroke of accidental brilliance on my part to think of that on the spur of the moment – I thought I made a good point.


She dismissed it and said “The bet wasn’t if you would get more aroused, it was just that you’d be more aroused.”


“It is not fair you get to decide if I lose the bet!” I pouted in frustration. I am a good sport about taking my lumps but one thing I cannot abide is a lack of fairness in a process – especially when I am being judged!


“Okay, how about my brothers my vote?” Delilah offered diplomatically her sweet southern voice losing some of its sadistic edge (to lull me into a false sense of security, no doubt!).


“No fair, they get to fuck me in the ass if I lose.” I probably did sound like I was being pouty but cut me some slack – I had just had a beating on one of the few places left on my body that hadn’t been beaten before.


“Yes, but if I lose they get to watch me ask for the same punishment at your house.” She countered that they had just as much reason to answer that I wasn’t. If she had been patient I probably would have caved and agreed to let them judge since I didn’t see any other alternative but she offered “We could ask Dr. Hooker, he would be neutral.”


She did have a point but the nice old man seemed so sweet that I couldn’t picture him even dignifying this with a response. “I don’t think he would want to be involved in this.” I remembered how he had looked at me with lust in his eyes at first but eventually a growing disappointment with me.


“Okay, if he won’t answer then you automatically win and if he does answer that you aren’t aroused then you also win – But if he answers you are turned on then you have to ask him to fuck you in the ass on top of everything else.”


“I actually did, but for fifty dollars because that is the standard price and he turned me down.” I shook my head because I didn’t believe he was going to go for this.


“You are wasting time and trying to cool down, Gordon go get Dr. Hooker!” She ordered her brother who ran off quickly to his neighbor’s house. “All you have to do is make the offer, little miss slut, now lay back down on your back so I can keep you aroused with a few stingers until he gets here.”


What kind of mess had I gotten myself into?

































Review This Story || Author: Amanda Serve
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