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The Family Feud IV
Chapter Twenty
Jamie’s Journal –Two Truths, One Lie and a Million Secrets
**Note to reader: This is Jamie’s journal from Tuesday around sunset when the girls leave the house. Jamie is provided her cell phone to carry with her in case she needs to call for emergencies – which is what she uses to tap out this narrative. 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.
I have this theory that may sound crazy – but journal you would never judge me or reveal my secret inner thoughts.
I think maybe in another life I was a dog – that or women tend to align with how either dogs or cats are wired. There is something so hard-wired in how I think that it goes beyond mere loyalty. I get uncomfortable when the rules aren’t followed. As a little girl in third grade, when the teacher left the room for a few minutes it was everyone else’s signal to throw wadded up paper and talk but me. I sat at my desk like a good little girl waiting for my gold star upon the teacher’s return.
It is ironic then that today mom and I let them suspend our stars – but more on that in a minute. I want to elaborate on the dog/cat thing – because of all the twisted and disgusted things that happened to me today, it is hard for even me to believe I am sitting here feeling guilty about the fact I was supposed to get 10 dunks in the toilet and I said nothing when Chris forgot and only gave me seven. You would think though, if I have some dog in me – that I would have taken to eating Roscoe’s Dog food. But no – my stomach is growling (In part due to nervousness for tonight) but mostly because it is hard to digest that stuff. It tastes beyond gross – kind of tastes like salty fish.
Why don’t they make garbage flavored dog-food? I think Roscoe would prefer it. Note to self: Another big idea to get rich when I am in my twenties: Garbage flavored dog food.
Where was I? Oh yes, Cat and Dog People. Then there are people who are wired more like cats – I think Delilah and Cathy Griffin are perfect examples and probably why there is this natural animosity in them that makes them see me as some sort of enemy. They would happily lie around in the window all day, but no matter what they are doing, it’s important for them to make it look like they intended to do it all along and that it looks like they are comfortable. They are clever and sneaky and hiss when they are threatened but they’ll run rather than stand up and fight when faced with real danger. They want attention but they would rather move just out of hand’s reach when you go to pet them – so you have to move a few inches closer before they’ll let you do it. If they do sit in your lap it is on their terms and they usually want something, whether it’s a snack or just warmth. Unlike Dog’s who need a fence and boundaries, you never have to leash or fence a cat – they stay because they think this is THEIR house, and it’s probably the humans who need to be fenced in.
Me? – I have more in common with Roscoe the loyal dog who’ll walk right behind you, dutifully following his human wherever we go, than I do with Delilah or Cathy. What would happen if those two ever meet? I don’t know, but I’d imagine it will be like when two alley cats finally come into contact with them hissing and and scratching at each other trying to claim their territory.
Now that I have journaled yet another theory about why I have these idiosyncratic tendencies to look to rules to define order and safety, I should probably tell you where we are and a little about my day.
Today I spent my second day of the next two weeks as a house-pet. My mom lost her job and she spent today outside with me – but for how long that will last I don’t know. If at the end of the two weeks she still has not found herself a job, I am not sure how I would feel about going to school with no restrictions while she continued to suffer.
Today was a lot like Monday except it was a lot easier with my mom out there to talk too. It gets very lonely when you are in the hot-sun down in the backyard with nothing but the wind whistling through the crack of your ass to keep you company. There is gross little Roscoe, but all he wants to do is lick, bite and play. Then again – isn’t that like most males?
Mrs. Waxerman dropped by today and we played at white alert- which coincidentally we are going to do when we get to wherever we are going for tonight’s adventure. She wanted to know why I let Delilah punish me with her nephews – and “It just kind of happened that way” didn’t sound like the right answer – I am glad I didn’t say that.
I think for me it is much easier to play the submissive little miscreant around her – I can only imagine how much more of an imposition it is for my mother –who has accomplished so much in her life to have to let Mrs. Waxerman look down her nose so far at her.
I was, as always, dutiful and apologetic and I think I’ve already covered in past journals how she can be very snooty – and never find’s fault with perfect little Delilah, who is an angel in her eyes. I think I’ve already mentioned how surreal it is that she seems to be shocked and disgusted by what we do and say, but no matter how twisted anything is that we tell her – she wants more details. My dad gave my mom and I matching butt plugs today and insisted we wear them all day (I have mine in right now), and she acted as if he had spoiled us by buying us matching earrings from Tiffany’s.
They thought it was cute to name my butt plug “License” – probably so they could tease me about getting my license as a play on words. I am just glad they didn’t name it “Bradley” or something to tease me about the guy I’ve had a crush on for weeks.
I really should write about our magical date on Monday night – but you know I kind of don’t even want to share that with my journal. Is that selfish? I already said journal, how you will never judge or reveal my inner thoughts, so why do I hesitate to relive last night by journaling it? I will say that it wasn’t like any of my ‘dates’ with crude, disgusting, perverted, juvenile boys.
He followed the rules my father had specified but with a look on his face that said he was just humoring him and me and would rather treat me like a princess. He reminds me so much of ‘Jim’ from the show “The Office” or any character Paul Rudd ever plays – that nice lovable guy who doesn’t take life too seriously.
Yeah, I probably should also just leave out how it is that we ended up having sex – I know I won’t ever forget any of the details. It is permanently etched in my mind how it was outside under the stars and how it felt right to tell him I snuck the key to my pussy prison out of the house – I can’t help but think though my father put it there for me to find. He definitely surprised me by sending me on the date in the first place – I guess he can be a real softie when he wants to be.
I wish I had access to my cell phone this afternoon because I would have written a moment by moment account of Mrs. Waxerman’s visit and how my dad made us sit on a chair leg. You would think that is not so hard until you sit an already sore cunt lip on the hard flat bottom of the chair and let your weight pull you down. Then again most people probably wouldn’t think about sitting with a chair leg up their cunt – so there is that.
I would have written about how my dad’s idea to give us some relief was to tie us up on the stairwell bannister and make us sit on the surprisingly phallic post at the bottom of the stairs. How have I lived in this house most of my life and never noticed that it was kind of dick shaped?
The more you think about how skyscrapers have to be erected taller than each other, and how most things men design are shaped – the more you realize there must be some Freudian penis envy thing going on in there. If I ever get into a college with the reputation I am building, I need to make a note to myself to take some psychology classes to better understand all this.
Dad left us groaning and gagged all day to squirm on the stair well until Chris came home from school. Now that I am no longer a virgin – it seems my cunt is fair game for his tortures and all I can say about sitting on the stair well that was positive was at least it wasn’t up my ass! I thought I was eventually going to just impale myself on the wooden plug and it would just split me in too.
My mom has had a lot more practice with getting her cunt tortured and trained, so I think she took this afternoon a lot better than I did.
My first thought upon seeing my brother wasn’t, “Oh Hi Brother, I hope you lose your virginity to me today.” it was, “Oh, I wonder if I can do my homework assignments that I am missing while on suspension and maybe he’ll order me to do them.” That has to be some sort of bizarre, teacher’s pet idiosyncrancy or I was a dog in another life - take your pick.
Dad and Chris are hung up on some new computer game – I honestly do not miss Facebook or any of the things I used to do on the computer before I started training. I can imagine though, when we took computer time away from them when they were our slaves, how it was probably like taking crack from an addict. My brother called me fart-face and I’ve been called a lot of names before but I accidentally lost my cool and corrected him. I don’t know why I feel the need to do that but I’ve grown so used to answering to ass-face that I hear that when people call me Jamie.
It isn’t that I want to call myself ass-face or that I want to refer to myself or my vagina as a cunt – it’s just that feels like what the rules are and something in me tells me to enforce them – even on myself. I hate when you are playing Monopoly and people make up their own rules about Free Parking. Show me where it says fines and taxes and 500 bucks go in the Free Parking money in the official rules? It says it is just a free resting space!
We had just come inside from doing one of my brother’s favorite pastimes - “The Slow Shit”. The best way to describe it is like meditation, except a brown banana is snaking its way out of your ass. You have to take the slowest shit you can and ease the turd out of your ass while he watches. It is part of our “hole training” exercises. When he first came up with the ‘game’ I didn’t really get it and because I hardly ever pooped, I usually lost to my mom who would patiently pump out perfectly long steamers of fudge.
When I first started doing it, I was definitely overwhelmingly humiliated by my brother or anyone watching me shit. I still have a hard time saying ‘shit’ instead of use the bathroom or poop, but that is the rule. I’ve come to realize that my brother thinks it is hilarious and he has already seen us at our worst, so it really isn’t that much of an imposition. I am still not clear on how he judges the winner – is it the girl with the most or who is the slowest? Wouldn’t there be some sort of ratio if you poop more but did it faster? If mom had two big turd bars and finished in 8 minutes but I had only one but made it last 9 minutes, should I not win? Chris seemed to think I took a break in between turds. In any case, my mom usually wins.
Chris would award her ‘letters’ in the past towards our stars and crown her “Queen of the Poo-Poo” or something silly – which he would write on her butt. In a way, I guess it’s not always best to be winner of Chris’s games. I think though there is something innate and primal in both me and mom that makes us want to compete with each other and be measured.
I think somehow I got un-constipated over the last few days, because as gross as it sounds, I was able to put in a much better show this time around. It was my father’s first time watching and now he probably thinks we are disgusting – which we are. I was torn between doing the best job I could, and just squeezing out a little. They would have checked my ass and found I hadn’t gone so as my mom says, “You might as well have a little fun with it” if you have to do it.
Anyway, I fucked up and told my brother my name was Ass-face and the punishment meted out was ten head dunks in the toilet. I’ve seen him do this to mom and I wasn’t scared – it really wasn’t so bad. I think my main concern was that maybe dad didn’t flush after using it or there was some sort of blue cleaning liquid in there.
Not getting to use the toilet myself – it makes bitching about when they used to leave the toilet lid up seem like we were being overly picky. I think that is one of the reasons they like to use bathroom control on us – that and my brother, like the Waxerman boys, seems thoroughly amused by fart humor.
He only made it to seven dunks before he admitted he felt guilty about punishing me. Apparently, I am not wicked and evil enough and he didn’t feel it was justified. I tried to tell him how I hadn’t stuck up for him and enjoyed my popularity while he didn’t but he just doesn’t see what a rotten selfish brat I’ve been – my confession only made him feel worse for some reason.
I suppose I am one of the wickedest of all. Have you ever watched the show Game of Thrones? It is on HBO – I wouldn’t have watched it but one of the geeky boys my brother rented me too didn’t know what else to do with me so he made me sit naked in his room and watch it with him on his computer.
It is a very well done story – and one of the characters is this fair haired queen who sort of reminds me of the singer Alanis Morrisette. She has this pure and wise look on her face – like she is above petty squabbles and can see right through any of yours. It is ironic then that her character is actually the most petty, wicked and full of secrets of just about anyone else in the series. How truly ironic then that she looks the part of the Queen of Light and her brother a dashing prince charming and yet they are both wicked and flawed people?
Did I mention she is also fucking her brother, while married to the King? That is another thing her and I have in common besides just looking innocent but being more flawed than everyone else.
There was another Queen on the show – a beautiful, blonde, blue eyed girl who grows into a warrior queen. At the very end she survives fire and she doesn’t get burned. I guess I identify with her too, because not only have I been surviving fire and somehow emerging naked but unburnt but Queen Daenerys Targaryen was also fucking HER brother as well.
Did I mention I fucked my brother today? Oh yeah, that is some big news. He brought up how he wanted to fuck me but that he was saving himself for something special and then Miss Ego suggested, “Hey, why don’t you fuck me anyway”.
See what I mean about being twisted and evil? Other people think I am just good old pure Jamie, but why would I have done that? Now if he ever wants to tell the story of his first time, it has to be ‘with my sister on the bathroom floor’ and not with a ‘Princess’ under the moonlight.
He was a little reluctant at first – but I think we both know that there has been sexual tension building and building between us and this was inevitable. I will puzzle over what Chris is really thinking about that (if anything) and whether or not I should have been the one to take a little initiative. They say when you fuck a guy he loses interest and so far I’ve not heard from Bradley – so maybe there is that. I don’t think my brother will “lose interest” in me though, not after all of this we have gone through.
Chris has a big cock – much bigger than Bradley and he fucked me hard and he fucked me long. He wasn’t too rough, but he wasn’t as gentle as Bradley had been either. He wasn’t interested in kissing and I am glad because it might have been too hard to look him in the face. He taught me a new position, “Reverse Cow Girl” where I sit on his dick and face away – that is going to come in handy – because I have a feeling that tonight some of these guys are going to look extra creepy.
I think compared to a lot of girls my age, even though everything has happened so quickly – I haven’t had nearly as much sex as most of the girls on the cheer squad. However, I can say that while he wasn’t super rough – Chris was certainly not gentle and sort of manhandled me around – pulling my hair and slapping my butt. I am not sure if it’s just the discipline I’ve received these past weeks talking, but it kinda felt raw, nasty and sexy to do it that way.
I guess I should wait until I’ve had more sensual encounters to really judge – but I think Chris pulling me around like a fuckable rag-doll was sort of hawt. I just hate to admit these things - even to myself.
I am not sure what Jerry Springer’s people are going to do with us if they ever hear our story – but I have a feeling we are at least a two-parter episode because my Dad made mom get under me and suck Chris’s balls. She didn’t show the least bit of apprehension which made it easier for me to keep going and essentially fuck him over her face without any guilt.
Did I mention I am a porn star? Oh yeah, well just internet porn star famous – which is to say not really famous at all.
I have known people were snapping photos and taking videos of us when we did dares in public but I guess I didn’t want to think too hard about where they ended up. Chris showed us how there were close to 800,000 views and all these comments on YouTube for just one of our silly videos of us dancing at the County fair that some random stranger must have taken.
My first thought should have been ‘that’s bad!’ or ‘Oh no!’ but instead it was “Wow, 800,000? That is a lot!”
I guess I AM super vain after all, and in some way I enjoyed watching myself on the computer. I know, sick right?.
Mom eventually came to grips with the fact that we are out there on the internet and once you are out there floating around there is really no reeling it back in – so you may as well accept it. I guess when we start collecting stars again, my mom negotiated for us to make videos. I may as well – there are ones already out there.
I like it when my mom negotiates for me – I think she is much better at negotiation anyway. I am going to have to tell her so. I would have probably just shrugged my shoulders and went along with whatever they demanded. I’m beginning to think that something deep inside of me has changed. If you would have told me a couple of weeks ago that I would feel this way, and do the things I’ve done, I’d have told you that you were loony.
Aside from the gory details about another shockingly painful enema, and our preparation for tonight, I have one more thing to mention – the inspection.
Usually our inspections are humiliation squared – with us being slapped, poked, prodded and even measured. They usually ask us affirmation questions like what kind of cunt we are, and how come we are inferior to them, but tonight’s was the most unusual and positive affirmation I’ve ever done.
I would not mind if every inspection was like that one going forward – Mom even broke down at the end and hugged Chris and I am not sure what Dad said to Chris but from my brother’s face it must have made him feel really proud.
No one hugged me or told me what a great person I was, and I think I deserve a little break from all that false praise – so I was good with just sort of being in the background for a change.
I did start one thing that seems to have caught on – I accidentally called Chris “Master” in the bathroom – probably while dealing with the fact that my cunt and tits are on constant sensory overload from all the stimulation they get in the heat of the moment. I think Mom picked up on it and so did the others that this was a deeply submissive title and now she has begun calling them that. I hate to admit it but I did get a little excited after I realized what I had said. I don’t think of myself as a submissive slave, I really don’t, do I? I’m beginning to get a little confused about all of this.
Dad asked me if I was willing to be a house pet all summer – and in exchange, half of whatever I earn would go towards my college fund. I didn’t answer because I have no idea what is in store for me tonight, but I almost said yes, Master. You see? It was my first impulse to answer that way, not even thinking about it. I guess if mom doesn’t get a job soon, I’ll be the house pet anyway since we are in this together. I do hope she gets a job by the end of my two week suspension.
If I had agreed, that would probably blow Mom’s mind that on some level I am starting to not mind this arrangement with the guys – I know it blows mine!
What am I saying? Obviously this is the most disgusting, grueling, painful and humiliating thing I have ever done in my life. I must just be high on the adrenalin from getting fucked, poked, tweaked and prodded. I think maybe in my mind the fantasy of doing it all summer is appealing on some twisted level – but it’s only been two weeks and look at how far things have gone, what would two months of this hell be like and why does the thought of it make me a little wet with excitement?
That unanswered question brings me dear Journal to the now. I am sitting here tapping this out on the cell phone I am supposed to be using tonight in case we need to call Dad or Chris for emergencies, which is why I have been only summarizing my day and skipping some points that I should probably have included. I promise when I next get a chance to catch up my journal with everything that will happen tonight it will be much more detailed.
We agreed to ride in the back of the truck completely naked – well mom agreed for us and I trust her judgment. Our clothes and some of the stuff we need tonight where in the bag where I got this cell phone. There is also a little igloo cooler with drinks for the guys and we were told we could have some ice chips – You have no idea how good ice chips taste when you haven’t had much to drink in so long.
Mine tasted like chamomile.
Okay, enough typing for now, I am going to talk to mom and everything you read after this, I promise should be in more detail when I have the time to journal my thoughts again.
“Did they tell us what to say if we get pulled over on the way out there and the cop asks us why we are naked?” I asked my mom while putting the cell phone back in the bag.
“Decide to finally talk to me did you?” My mom was joking like most parents do when you care more for texting than you do talking to the people in the room.
“I was just making some notes to myself,” I explained innocently.
“Well, see that your father never sees your private thoughts. If I thought he saw mine, I would be in deep sheep shit”. Was my mom telling me she also kept a journal? – note to self, check her cell phone if I get the chance and compare notes!
It does make sense because I’ve seen her tapping away at her cell phone too. Then again I wouldn’t want her invading my privacy – but on the other hand (Is that a third hand?), we aren’t supposed to have any privacy or modesty, so maybe it is okay if I am a little nosy? Nah, I’ll let her have her secret thoughts like I do my own, I might just show her my journal at the end of all this and see if she wants to show me hers!
She is right though – I’d be in deep sheep shit – deeper than I am now if they read my journal.
Did I mention one of the guys my brother rented me to (not the Game of Thrones kid) actually said to me ”You show me yours, and I will show you mine.” My brother does NOT know many boys with much game when it comes to talking to girls. Am I a terrible person that I don’t remember that kid’s name?
“Day-dreaming about what lays ahead? I asked you a question,” My mom was trying to get my attention over the sound of the truck’s engine and the wind in our hair. We were hunkered down on all fours next to each other right up against the back of the truck trying to keep our head down. “I asked if we WERE stopped, what would you say?”
“Hello Officer, could we not do this? If anyone had told me that being naked in the back of a truck was frowned upon, I probably wouldn’t do it.” I joked.
“Where did you get that from?” My mom poked me on the shoulder as a friendly jab.
“I had to watch a whole season of Seinfeld on one of my dates, one of the characters said it when he was caught fucking a girl on the desk at his office.” I answered.
“Damn, I should have tried the old George Costanza technique at work yesterday! Was crawling around naked with your ass in the air like a slut against the rules? If anyone had told me, I would never have done it. I just thought it was not looked favorably upon.” My mom pretended she was talking to some CEO to explain her behavior at her job. I need to ask her some time about what she did there – I never thought to ask, which demonstrates again how self-absorbed I can be.
We both giggled at that explanation and never did come back with a reasonable explanation to a cop. We also avoided talking about whether we were nervous for what lay ahead. We both were of course – the fear of the unknown. I hate when Dad and Chris are going to punish me and I know what is coming almost as much as not knowing – I can live the same humiliation in my head 100 times before it arrives and my imagination can sometimes be more cruel than the reality.
I knew we’d be hookers, and it won’t be easy or safe. But having been on that side of town before it is obvious to me that there are women, who wake up every day and that is their reality. They don’t just do it a few nights, they do it EVERY night and they get through it.
“We are going to get through this,” I told my mom.
She smiled at me and leaned over and kissed me on the cheek whispering, “I know we will, but thank you for saying that. I wanted to hear it.”
“No problem Cow-tits,” I smiled sweetly giving her a little friendly barb. It was cute that we could joke about things. I thought about what Chris had said earlier today that really struck me as interesting. He said that people who deeply respect each other, sometimes trade quips and gallows humor as a way of dealing with danger and fear. Actually, I am not sure what he said exactly, because I was watching porn clips on the internet of me sucking strangers’ dicks at the time he said it – it was something about Star Wars, but that is what I got out of it.
“At least I don’t have an ass for a face!” My mom fired back in jest.
“Good thing too, with an ass the size of yours, you would wobble and fall over, if it was on your face” I quipped back.
She scrunched her nose at me and did duck lips and I snuck one back. I get in trouble for making those faces, but it was worth a little one to demonstrate I was in solidarity with my mom.
“On dares, I trust you to negotiate for us both,” I changed the subject. My mom seemed confused and I explained how she had been a negotiator at work, and that I trusted her to decide for us both.
“Are you sure? The guys are pretty clear that I have no authority over you?” My mom tried to convince me to change my mind and I just nodded sweetly that it was fine.
“I kind of like you to chime in, as a sanity check, the last time I came out here – things got a little out of hand.
My mom explained how on the first night I was rented out by my Brother – dad had taken her to this motel we were going too. She explained all about how shabby the place was and how creepy Rahjid the motel keeper and his wife were. That he had some sort of rivalry with his brother-in-law or something.
That originally dad was trying to just get his stuff back from Rahjid and show her off to him to make Rahjid jealous. Then one thing led to another and Dad had somehow made a deal to pimp mom out. She got a little grainy on the detail of why she agreed to that, but the jist I got from it was since this was our first weekend as their slaves, she didn’t know the limits and boundaries and she ‘walked the track’.
She said she fucked a lot of guys, and used condoms to track how many that was… but that sometimes no condom was used. She had to return the used condoms back to Rahjid so he could estimate how much money she should have to how much she was turning in.
“It had been one of the most extreme things I ever did, and still stands out in my mind as one of the times when things just escalated out of control if you let them get away with you. I think your father has learned a lot from the control he has had over us and I know you and I are better at this than we were two weeks ago.” Mom said.
“Better at being sluts you mean!” I giggled.
She poked me on the shoulder again good naturedly and pointed out that we were on MLK Blvd near the motel. Dad had given us explicit instructions to use some of the ice-chips to make our nipples as hard as possible right before we get there for when we first meet Rahjid. We opened the ice bucket and began massaging some frosty chips onto our tits to prepare for our meeting with him without even talking about.
I could tell my mom wanted to offer me some other words of advice, but I think she thought her worry and concern might make me more nervous than I already was – and she was probably right. I think outwardly though, I continued to project my normal positive, effervescent but annoying self – and just on the inside was I starting to melt like butter.
The truck pulled into what I could only assume was a motel from the signs overhead, “HBO HERE – U PAY” was on the marquis. It was already getting dark so I couldn’t actually see the name of the motel amongst all the other lights down on MLK.
Dad tapped the side of the truck, “White alert, sluts!” he reminded us in a whisper before adding, “Wait here. I’ll go see if he is here.” I am sure Chris and him had been strategizing on the truck about how they were going to come off as bad-asses and we were going to have to play along to reinforce that.
My mom and I were quiet as the ice we had in our hands melted in our mouths. My nipples felt hard enough to cut diamonds and my mom’s looked sore, hard and pink too. I imagine the fact we hadn’t been permitted to milk ourselves in hours was also adding to the plump tiny veins that were appearing around her fat nipples.
Eventually I heard a man with a thick Indian accent come towards the truck, “This better not be the bullshit, because I have stepped in your bullshit before and I am not liking the bullshit that you shit!” it was Rahjid.
Somehow I had been picturing a powerful king-pin type with a booming voice from how Mom and Dad had painted him as a cruel, greedy shark. When I heard the truck gate latch swing down, I saw that he was just a small Indian man with a very thick, black mustache. His look upon seeing us naked in the back of the truck was one of joy, like when you are unwrapping a present.
“You are not bullshitting me for once, and I thank you, Mister Bill Taylor.” Rahjid clearly had a low opinion of my father – and I wasn’t sure what my father might have said to give him that impression but I paid it no mind.
“Well whores, quit stalling and hop off the truck so Rahjid can have a look at you and get you money makers working.” My dad demanded like a boss. If I hadn’t grown up with dad all my life I would have believed that he really talked that way all the time – but I stifled a grin and pretended to be afraid of him.
The layout of the motel that I could see was a dozen or so small, concrete block, efficiency apartments laid out around a square parking lot. In the center was a dumpy little pool inside of a rusty gate with their unlit sign and under it their lit marquee. There was one really bright street light over the Office –which was right in front of where Dad Parked next to the highway.
In the darkness, it didn’t seem like there was anyone else in the parking lot – and that for the most part the motel felt pretty empty. I had to wonder about the person who first built this motel and what their motivations were. Did they imagine families would stop here to vacation? Who would have ever thought that pool looked inviting? I wondered if in the 1960s or whenever it had been built – if they had dreams of it being relaxing, before it turned into the run down dump it was today.
The sidewalk went on for miles with fast food places, dumpy motels and old shops. Thankfully there was hardly any traffic on the street right now.
Mom slid off the truck first and I was right behind. We lined up side by side right in the parking lot – which sort of blew my mind. I guessed mom had already done this before because she didn’t seem as worried we’d get in trouble for being outside naked. She snapped to attention and her tits jiggled like she was smuggling watermelons. I tried to do the same trick, but without as much body fat, I think all I might have managed was to make my knees pop and my ass cheeks clap once.
Why did you bring them here naked?” Rahjid sounded impressed but confused.
“Cow-tits, tell the man why you and your slut daughter are here naked?” I could tell Dad couldn’t think of a good answer. It probably just seemed like something cool to do and he knew my mom was better at thinking up things on her feet from our creative behavior for white alert with Mrs. Waxerman.
“Clothes are a luxury for us, and my husband,” my mom paused to give herself time to sound out her answer in her head “wanted us naked so you can inspect our goods, and see we are cleaned, shaved and ready to work, Sir.”
“You are good whore.” Rahjid nodded in appreciation, “Since you work that one night I have three other whore but they are lazy and not obedient like you – how come?”
We were standing behind the truck and at the angle Dad parked we couldn’t be easily seen by the highway. I kept wondering if someone with a big vacationing family was going to check in and see us like this but I think I was the only one who imagined that because everyone else remained as calm as if we were inside our house.
“My husband has to discipline us because we can be lazy and disobedient, but he gave us a long affirmation right before we left the house that gets us motivated to be good whores, Sir.” I knew my mom thought that last affirmation we did right before we left was something special and this was her way of telling Dad and Chris.
What is affirmation?” Rahjid was curious.
“When being inspected, or sometimes we get in a special affirmation position… May I show you Sir?” My mom answered obediently.
Rahjid nodded, my mom started to get into the “Doggy” position and I followed her lead. You have to put your forehead on the ground (in this case a disgusting black tar pavement) and then face your ass towards the person you are speaking too, while pulling your ass cheeks apart for them.
“They make us thank them for keeping us in line, and show appreciation, and then they ask us to remind them of our shortcomings or something they are teaching us. It reinforces our place, Sir”
“It sound like a lot of talk, not make the money,” Rahjid observed defensively.
“You keep the whores motivated, and then they make more money.” My mom patiently answered.
“Where are the whores who work for you?” My dad interrupted – no doubt noticing how completely dead the motel was.
“No one come out to at least 9 O’clock around here. Those bitches are drunk or having the crack, but you will see that they are good whore too - I assure you.” Rahjid didn’t sound so sure of himself.
“You may want to take my advice on how to keep sluts on a tight leash,” My dad said as if my mom’s words were his advice – I liked how that dynamic seemed to work between them.
“What is this in your assholes?” Rahjid was mentioning our butt plugs. I don’t want to sound like I’ve gone numb back there, but I had actually forgotten about it until he mentioned it.
“That is my passport, Sir” Mom answered and before I could chime in with my plug’s name, Rahjid asked her to explain. “My husband and son gave us each one as a special gift to decorate our dirty assholes, so that when someone looks at our pussy they don’t have to just see our stinky brown eye looking back at them.” I just remained silent – that seemed pretty obedient and submissive – right? Okay, I was also a little intimidated to open my trap and become the focus.
I almost giggled wondering what Rahjid thought of that because he paused as if overwhelmed that anyone would say or do that. I knew this was white – alert like when we try to shock Mrs. Waxerman, but I actually think that may have been the truth of why we had them in.
“What if I like to look at dirty assholes?” Rahjid asked skeptically.
“Then you can tell my daughter to take mine out and put it in her mouth and look all you like, Sir.” I wondered if my voice would have cracked from nervousness if I were the one talking just now, because my mom delivered her answer flawlessly. There was respect in her voice but at the same time her answer sounded as if she were explaining something as timeless and obvious as the sun coming out the next day.
“Why can’t I tell you to take it out, yourself?” Rahjid asked.
“My husband doesn’t like us playing with ourselves unless it’s for a paying customer to watch. I am forbidden to take mine out because I might pop it back in and out and play with it, so my daughter takes mine out and cleans it and I do the same for her.”
“You will be having trick’s fuck you in the asshole tonight?” Rahjid wanted clarification.
“We are both three hole whores, so I think so, Sir?” my mom answered submissively for us.
“How much will you be charging?” Rahjid asked.
“I don’t know what the prices are? The last time you had rules on what I was supposed to charge, Sir?” mom replied dutifully.
“Yes, yes, the rule, I gonna take you inside and tell you all the rules.” I got the impression from his manner that he was a little more OCD about rules than I could be. In my case, it is a sense of following them giving me order and security but in his case I think he gets that from making them. I am basing that estimation on my impression of him later on this evening as well – it isn’t like he just said ‘rules’ and I jumped to the conclusion he was someone who grew up feeling powerless and wishing to impose rules as soon as he had a little authority.
“It is kind of cool how they can kneel out here naked and no one says anything,” My brother observed with his usual sardonic wit.
“Yes, very cool, it is so cool that I have no business except for prostitute and drug addict, and cops almost never patrol here, very cool.” Rahjid’s answer was the perfect mix of sarcasm and the frustration of a failed businessman being confronted with the flaw in his business plan. He seemed to regard Chris as a non-entity and said nothing further to him. I was hoping he would do the same for me.
“Stand up daughter.” Rahjid commanded me to turn around and let him get a good look at me. I stood passively as he looked me up and down like a goat he was purchasing from market (I would say cow, but they think those are holy). He pinched my left nipple and observed, “She has cold nipple?”
“Yes, I made them use ice chips to make their nipples hard.” My dad’s explanation seemed to sit well with Rahjid
“That is very good, very good – she has full breasts, are you sure she is not pregnant?” Rahjid asked my father while squeezing both of my tits. I just stood there like a dumb blow-up doll.
“She can speak for herself,” I know my Dad’s style and he equates being the strong silent type with being powerful. I think he also just wanted me to have to open my mouth and talk.
“I come from Bhadrak district of Orissa in India. Daughter who brings shame on family by unwanted pregnancy is often sold into prostitution or to plow field and work farm in country for poor family. This is why you make pretty daughter work?” Rahjid held my arm up while he inhaled the scent of my armpits. My poor mom was left to wait naked and kneeling facing the back of the truck.
“No Sir, I am not pregnant - I take birth control pills every day,” I added, “I think my tits are full because my mom and I are lactating and we weren’t permitted to pump before coming out here tonight.”
I thought maybe my breath stunk from how long I had my mouth shut because he regarded me like I had just farted in his face when I spoke. Then he twerked my nipple between thumb and forefinger like he was stroking a tiny dick until just a hint of my breast milk emerged from the tip. “This is very, very good!” his eyes lit up and it seemed now he was pleased with me - he asked, “So why you are here?”
“My mother and I kicked my dad and brother out of the house a few months ago and my father left behind some things in his room. We are here to make them back and earn some money for our bills and a trip, Sir” I was totally honest – but unsure if he understood.
“That crap in your room? I store that junk because no pawn shop will take,” I could tell by my father’s expression as soon as Rahjid said that that I may have been too honest and just accidentally convinced Rahjid to raise the price.
“We were major bitches to them when they got home, so they turned the tables after our little family feud and now we are their…” I tried to change the subject back to how I came to be my father’s slut but Rahjid was no longer listening.
“Let’s go inside, so I can explain rules, and you can suck at my dick.” He said to us.
“Should I crawl Sir, or may I stand?” My mom’s tone was quite submissive.
“You will crawl like dog? I like it,” Rahjid’s answer was no clear instruction and perhaps because it was dawning on me how frightened I was of what we had agreed to do – I didn’t offer. I felt a little ashamed of that but no one said anything to me as I walked next to my mother padding on her hands and knees towards Rahjid’s office.
He gave a curious sounding knock and then I heard chains and bolts unlatch on the other side of the door. A middle-aged Indian woman who would have come straight from central casting at Slum Dog millionaire opened the door wearing an orange Sari (sort of a ceremonial dress). I tried not to look right at the red dot on her head as she looked at me with a very flat almost derisive expression and then she did this head-bobble thing – side to side but tilting. I wasn’t sure what that meant but despite the fact my mother and I were both naked she let us enter her office/home as if this were perfectly normal.
They spoke in what I could only assume was Hindi to one another. He introduced my father as “Betichod”, then my brother as “randi ka larka”. My mother on the floor was “Gaand ke Dhakan” or “Dheeli Choot” I couldn’t tell which but the woman seemed to chuckle upon seeing our matching butt plugs – otherwise she had a dead pan flat expression. I was introduced as “Bhai Chhod bhayee chod” which sounded pretty ostentatious.
“My owners just call me ass-face,” I said seriously extending a hand of greeting to what I assumed was his wife. She didn’t take my hand, only regarded my seriously. At least it cracked up Chris who saw the humor in the awkward presentation.
Chris introduced himself “I guess you can just call me Randy” shortening the Indian name he was introduced with and offering his hand as well. His wife kept hers at her side and looked at him like he was offering her a giant cow turd instead. He eventually awkwardly dropped his hand and that ended our attempt at introductions.
The office was also their living room and opened into a kitchen-ette that had the pungent aroma of Indian cuisine coming from it. I could smell yellow basmati rice, ginger and exotic odors that I had to assume was some sort of slow cooking dinner for them.
There was a heated exchange between he and his wife and my dad asked “Everything alright?”
“Yes, we are just talking, why do you mind your own business for a minute?” Rahjid said very pleasantly before returning to a long rapid fire Hindi discussion that sounded like an argument with his wife. He apparently won because she raised her hand as if exhausted and walked off into the other room.
“You will see my niece, who is like your daughter.” Rahjid said with something approaching pride. “We keep her in the prayer room,” Rahjid motioned down a short hallway that smelled of incense and spice.
Led by a chain around her neck, a naked Indian girl about my age with doe-like brown eyes and long brown hair cascading over her caramel butter skin walked behind Rahjid’s wife with her hands behind her back. She didn’t make eye contact with any of us but didn’t seem surprised by us standing in the office awkwardly looking at her naked. I acted as if this surreal introduction were perfectly normal as well.
I noticed that unlike our hairless cunts, hers was a deep tangle of brown curly-q fur and I could tell she looked at my hairless cunt silently in shock about how vulnerable I probably looked.
“She is a whore too?” my dad asked innocently enough but Rahjid regarded him as if he had just spit in his face.
“No, this is Urmila devi das, she was my brother-in law daughter but she became too Americanized and refused to take curfew and be good Indian daughter. He has no use for this, and he cannot discipline, so she….”
“She wears the bathing suit in public, holds the hand of boy in public, she is whore” Rahjid’s wife spoke in far more broken English than her husband. She spat upon her nieces face in disgust and Urmilla stood there letting it drip down her cheeks.
There was a heated exchange in Hindi between them before Rahjid smiled pleasantly at us “My wife means whore like slut, not whore like work on the street.” He explained.
“My wife and daughter are sluts as well as whores,” Dad answered matter of factly.
“Yes, I know” Rahjid didn’t hesitate to answer. He spoke to his nnece in Hindi and pointed at my mother’s ass several times, repeating the name he called my mom ‘Gaand ke Dhakan’. My mom took the hint and dutifully spread her ass cheeks while remaining on the floor. While Rahjid was lecturing to the girl, who was probably about my age, my mind wandered back to the flea market a few days ago when I ran into a former member of the cheer squad, Sun-Lee, who was kept in bondage by her family. I don’t know the entire story about Hope Miller, another girl from cheer, and I know it’s horrible but I take some consolation from the fact I know I am not the only one in this situation.
My mom had her ‘passport’ butt plug out by the time I stopped daydreaming about Sun-Lee and that broom they jammed up our asses to sweep their backroom. I quickly reached behind myself and pushed my butt plug out to display it as well. Rahjid pointed at mine and then to the kitchen while saying something in his language.
His wife came back with what looked like a white parsnip root that she had coated in lard. Rahjid gave Usmila a rapid fire litany of Hindi and at the end she bowed her head in acceptance of his words and stood with feet slightly apart. I didn’t have to speak Hindi to know that the root was going up Usimila’s ass and that is exactly where the wife put it. When Usimila’s eyes widened in realization of the anal invasion, I connected with her for a brief instant while the girl stood in silent anguish and humiliation.
I tried in that moment to convey my perky and positive outlook and send telepathically, a message of hope and sisterhood that we shared her fate and we would all survive this. I doubt she got all that from my goofy smile but the wife quickly walked her back into a room in their apartment so I would not know.
As she walked away I noticed the dark hew of her skin along between her ass cheeks that fades into the lighter caramel of the cheeks and how much from behind she looked like a black girl. I couldn’t see the parsnip root, and it’s probably a sign I am getting jaded and twisted but I pictured Chris leaving the long leafy stem hanging out like a bushy green tail had he popped one in my ass.
I think in some small way I am glad my brother is imaginative with his torments. At least things have been exciting and almost like an adventure. I had a feeling Usimila almost never leaves that room and very little ever changes for her.
“Shall we clean and return our butt plugs, Sir?” I asked Rahjid who nodded casually as if it was of no consequence to him.
I exchanged butt plugs with my mother and we both put them in our mouths. Then I got down on the floor in the same position as her and as if we had done this dozens of times in the past – pushed our ass cheeks together. Then we reached behind ourselves and as if by luck, for the first time were able to get the plug up each other’s ass without help. I couldn’t see my mom’s face but it probably wasn’t as goofy as my pert and perky expression of triumph for getting it right this time.
“Why do you do this?” Rahjid was impressed by the little show and frankly, I was too because in the past it had been too difficult.
“My father trains us as a team, to work together to clean each other’s plug and as we told you earlier, we aren’t allowed to insert it ourselves without special permission because he is afraid we will masturbate ourselves with it.” I said boldly.
“Which we probably would.” My mom joked, we were still in white-alert and butt to butt so she may as well go for the Oscar and lay it on thick.
“Hah, who are you kidding? You’d take both of them, one for your fat cunt and one for your fat asshole, if we weren’t being supervised.” I pushed back on my mother’s ass with my body like a metaphorical tap to the shoulder as I recalled Chris’s story about why in times of stress or danger we rib each other good naturedly. I was wondering where white alert was fantasy and how much of this was true.
“You wish, you know your license is big for your tight little asshole, but it would never satisfy my cunt.” My mom pushed bumped butts back with me.
“Silence, sluts. Can you not see that Rahjid is a very, very busy man and he wants to give you his rules, instead of watch you two play slap-ass?” My dad’s choice of ‘very, very’ was deliberate – it was something Rahjid used often in his speech and my father was half-patronizing and half emulating his speech to ingratiate himself to Rahjid. I could tell there was an underlying tone in dad’s voice that was amused - he was playing the strict disciplinarian who thought we were incorrigible. When he actually said, “I try to keep discipline, but these two sluts are incorrigible,” I was positive that we hadn’t crossed the line.
“You do a very, very good job,” Rahjid’s compliment was probably high praise to my father. “They will only work together or alone?”
“They will do whichever you think is best,” My dad answered – he was right.
“They will suck upon my dick without the condom?” Rahjid asked sheepishly.
“Your wife won’t mind?” Bill asked in reply looking over at the innocuous woman who had come back into the room without anyone noticing. I was reminded of “Uncle Creepy” the quiet security guard who seemed to always blend in harmlessly in the background from the county fair.
He exchanged a blast of Hindi with his wife and then announced, “She knows it is for the test of how good they are.” I somehow doubted that was Rahjid’s explanation but with the green light, my mother and I separated at the ass cheek and crawled over to where Rahjid was seated.
“I am a good little cocksucker, Sir.” My mom unbuckled and unzipped his corduroy pants. I’ve only ever seen hipster boys wear corduroy’s, ironically as part of a trendy anti-fashion statement. I moved in to try to help my mother kiss along Rahjid’s rather unimpressive cock.
“Do you want to give me the love kiss, Sir?” My mom asked him. I wasn’t sure what that term was but apparently he did.
“I want to give your daughter the love kiss on her pussy!” Rahjid answered matter of factly. It probably goes without saying that Indian people seldom seem to express emotion when they are speaking English, which is a stark contrast to their language which sounds like a guttural slew of insults and arguments in rapid fire no matter what they are talking about.
My mom led me on to his lap and had me sit back draping myself over the warmth of her back while she sucked his dick between my open legs.
He leaned down and pulled my clit ring to the side and then began to eat me out. His tongue was wet and nimble and I don’t know why I said this (I blame ‘white alert’) but I said “Well, he is NO Roscoe”.
My mom lost it laughing and I did too when she started in. It wasn’t that it was hysterical, but I think given how serious and sexy we were trying to be – coupled with the impossibility of the situation.
Oh I didn’t journal about that – I probably should have mentioned that today after making curly-q’s and trying to practice writing the first letter of my name with my pee in the rose bush for my brother’s amusement my dog licked my ass clean.
I guess at the time I didn’t really think about how disgusting that is – Dogs are always trying to sniff butts and probably the sweat, urine and girl-scent in general made my butt seem appetizing to him. My mom and I even joked about it when Mrs. Waxerman came over. In retrospect it was probably something that should have freaked me out a lot more than it did, but I didn’t get time to think about it – I just chalked it up to a gross experience and when dealing with a dozen or more of those in a day you probably learn to adjust and accept them.
“Who is Roscoe?” Rahjid sounded a little offended as my belly quivered while I tried to sustain my feverish giggling.
“The Dog ate you out, Ass Face?” Chris was smirking at what was probably a fresh warm pink of embarrassment washing across my face.
“In Dharmasastra sex with the holy cow is to be bringing good fortune, but what is the purpose of sex with the family dog?” Rahjid asked me seriously.
“It wasn’t sex Sir, he just did the love kiss on me and my mom.” I grinned at him impishly. I could tell Rahjid just lost his appetite for girl-pussy because he regarded me like he just smelled a fart again. He left me spread on his lap facing him but only stared at my naked, quivering body.
“What happened after you admitted to Mrs. Waxerman that you encouraged Roscoe to get busy on your back doors?” My dad prompted me to continue. We definitely hadn’t encouraged Roscoe – it was just sort of an accident of being naked and bent over, but this was ‘white alert’ so I played along – despite my disgust with lying, this was sort of play-acting.
“You stood us on wooden blocks, and beat our asses, for encouraging Roscoe to lick our cunt and asshole and arouse us” I remembered my Mom saying almost that exact phrase to Mrs. Waxerman and Dad outside earlier today.
There was something additionally humiliating about describing in detail a punishment you received – and the pain you relive is even more intense than when it was actually applied. It had seemed like a blur when I endured it this afternoon with my mother but now in describing the weights Dad applied to my boobs and clamped to my clit I remembered how the tiny little metal balls would flail and dig into my skin each time he paddled us.
“Tell Rahjid what the name of the paddle was?” My dad was very proud of his handiwork.
“Mother-In-Law, and he made us kiss it and thank it for reminding us of our place.”
“Mother-In-Law?” Rahjid didn’t like that name “Why not Father In Law, for head of household?” He asked if my father had missed a golden opportunity in naming his wicked paddle.
“Mother-In Law, because it is a pain in the ass.” Dad laughed hysterically and I could almost feel this connection with my mom as she thought about my sweet and simple grandma in Indiana – apparently the ‘pain in the ass’.
“Okay, now I see. Yes continue little Bhai Chhod bhayee chod, tell me how you were punished today.” Rahjid was delighted. The only other sound was my mother’s lips kissing and slurping on his dick which was now rock hard.
“We gave thanks for deliverance from our wickedness,” Actually my mom said that, but I thought it was such a perfect line from someone as grandiose and over the top as Mrs.Waxerman that I implied it was both of us who said it.
I described in detail the 50 swats we received and how we counted each one out in the back yard in front of our neighbor Mrs. Waxerman. I could smell my mother’s pussy juices blending with the Tikka Masala and Indian fragrances of their tiny apartment-office and finally Rahjid had heard enough of my mostly truthful description of our torment that he grabbed her hair and slammed my mother’s head against his crotch and pumped his cum into her.
“Tea?” broke the awkward silence as his wife offered my brother and father a cup of warm tea. They were too engrossed in my recounting of our punishments and watching my mother expertly deep-throat Rahjid to have noticed her until that moment.
When Rahjid had finished pumping his last drop of cum into my mother’s mouth he forced her away from him and me off him as well – zipping himself up as if he were now ashamed. “Yes, please” he answered his wife.
“No thank you Ma’am,” Dad answered with a pronounced southern drawl – something he does unconsciously when he is around Mrs. Waxerman as well. I think it makes him feel like a Gentleman Rancher or Gunslinger or something. “We have to get these whores out working soon. I suppose you have a dollar figure I owe to get my stuff back?”
“Yes, I think the entire matter of your bill and storage fees, plus interest can be resolved, but let me ask you. Are these whores going to work all week or just until you get stuff back and you will be gone again like the other night?” Rahjid did that head bobble thing his wife had done when she first let us in – there is no way to read his body language when he does that and guess what he is thinking.
“No, look Rahjid I won’t abandon you, I am a man of my word!” Dad took offense. He didn’t look at me and mom huddled naked in a corner waiting for them to finish their discussion.
“Your word was to check out with advanced notice of one week, and to pay your rent and deposit, but you did not and your wife work one night and then leave.” I could tell from how he pointed out the ‘one night’ and then leave there was more to it. Why should he be concerned if a street walker works or doesn’t work?
He explained how he had told his brother-in-law he would make his motel profitable by running prostitutes and apparently his brother-in-law who is much more successful laughed at him. It seems that my mom not coming back the next day caused Rahjid’s business model to get rich in the ‘pimp-game’ to crash around him and apparently he wasn’t satisfied with the girls he was able to recruit.
“I’m Sowwy Sah,” My mom sounded like she had marbles in her mouth. We all looked at her and she held her mouth open with Rahjid’s salty cum glistening on her tongue.
“Oh she is waiting for permission to swallow,” Chris explained but Rahjid ignored his explanation.
“You can tell her to swallow it, spit it on the floor and put her nose in it, snowball it into ass-faces mouth to gobble, whatever suits your fancy. We have trained them to be good cum-gobblers.”
I could hear a sigh from Rahjid’s wife, but Rahjid himself was ‘very, very happy’. “She can be spitting the cum into a cup of tea and the ass face will drink it?” his face of delight reminding me of the juvenile Waxerman boys when they hear something naughty.
“Yeah, if you’d like to see that.” Dad, who had only been sipping the bitter hot tea put his white cup in front of my mom. She kneeled over the cup and dropped a long spit dribble with Rahjid’s cum into it.
Then it was my turn.
“Thank you Mr. Rahjid for permitting me to have some authentic Indian Tea.” I said with my normal bubbly enthusiasm and then I kneeled over the cup like it was a dog food dish and put my hands behind my back to pull my ass cheeks apart. I started to lap the cum-tea up like a kitty-cat with my tongue when I heard his child-like laughter.
“Oh this is exceptional to see American girl to do,” Rahjid clapped his hands and proclaimed , “Very, very good”.
“Yeah, we don’t let them use silverware at home,” Chris explained but Rahjid ignored him again. He said some things in Hindi to his wife (yelled some things) and then she excitedly offered him some sort of rebuttal. Then she calmly walked into the kitchen and took a cup of hot tea into Urmilla and closed the door – I could only wonder if our ‘white alert’ might be inspiring Rahjid to torment and humiliate the poor girl in new ways.
“Okay, here is what we will do, you will have girls work from 8pm until 3am each and every night and on Friday, I will release your storage, and forgive the debt of your room and the interest and late penalties.” Rahjid said to my father while I lapped up the warm tea. I knew better than to joke to my mom, “Do you want some?” but I felt Chris would have laughed if I had.
“How much do I get of their earnings on top of that?” Dad said back skeptically.
“You get nothing? I pimp to them, and provide also a room, then after this week, then maybe we can talk to each other about the cut of profit!” Rahjid sounded firm.
“No, that doesn’t work for me, you see there is overhead, gas, food, enemas, you know, that sort of thing.” Dad sounded cavalier like he could walk away from this deal at any moment. I probably would have been happy to do that because my stomach was turning flip-flops from how ‘real’ things were getting and the anticipation of what it meant to work for Rahjid.
“You want to be Rahjid partner, then your woman will follow Rahjid rules, if they do not, then Rahjid can fine you, and hold you to be responsible?” There was an underlying respect in Rahjid’s haggling. I think he had expected Dad to just fold right away on the first offer.
“The same rules your other girls follow?” I took a big slurp in quiet pleasure of Dad’s asking for clarification on the rules. The tea was bitter and sour and made my mouth dry – I couldn’t imagine anyone drinking this by choice with or without cum and spit dribbled into it. In some way I wondered if the cum probably hadn’t improved its flavor – but then I eat dog food and water every day so enjoy whatever I get, right?
“No, your bitches are not like them, well-disciplined and attractive, I will be having new rules for them. You can get the other whores to follow these rules and I will give you a cut of their profit as well, is that being our deal?” Rahjid was keen to shake my father’s hand now.
“No, what is the cut and what are the rules?” Dad and him negotiated for five more minutes back and forth before settling on 40% of the profit for us, and a commitment to work the entire week. In exchange, we were to receive 10% off at his brother-in-law’s gas station on everything except Deli, and we would get to stay in one of his ‘cottage’ apartments at the motel. “You can also work during day, some times during day time drivers, mechanics, and the like will like to screw and I will give you 50% of money during this time”.
It seemed like Rahjid wanted to introduce new rules – as I said earlier he was a ‘rule lover’ like me only he liked to create them. Dad had us get into position two in the center of the living room to hear them out. We were facing the guys, naked – of course and bent at the waist. His wife was sitting behind us passively sounding exasperated as she sighed.
Rahjid had a sheet of paper with his current rules, although from how he described these rules it sounded like he had a problem enforcing them.
There was a knock on the door “Shit, let me in, it’s cold out here.” said a woman from outside. Rahjid’s wife got up to answer the door instantly.
“That is the knock you are to be having for security purposes, and you are fifteen minutes late!” Rahjid shouted in frustration while sitting in a dirty recliner and not taking his eyes off us.
When the door opened a short black girl with a pretty face in a long blonde wig saw us naked and squealed “Shit! Is this Hee-haw? God damned, you got you another one like Usa-milla from your brother-in-law?”
As she walked in out of the darkness the spirited and vibrant youthful face I had seen in the dark seemed to almost transform into something a little haggard and plain looking. I imagine she probably was quite beautiful at one time.
“No, this is not like Urmilla Devi Das,” he sounded like he had corrected her before on how to say the name properly. “I am about to go over the rules of the pimping game with them. They will be your wife-in-laws.”
“Oh, fresh meat!” there was a scratchy and street smart tone to her voice as she walked over to look at us standing side by side naked. “Mmm, mhmm, mmm, aint that some shit white people do - bondage? I aint never been paid enough to try it, name is Ronnie and I am the bottom girl, ya hear?” she said looking at us with a sort of intensity like ‘this is my bread and butter and you better believe me!’.
“You know I am the bottom bitch, Ronnie and you better stop running your little squeaky mouth, hooker!” a thick New York Puerto Rican accent emerged from the hallway. The woman it was attached too had big lips, a big butt and was thick in just about every other place on her body besides her boobs. She had big hair like someone from the 1980s, and big silver bangle earrings. She wore a thin polyester dress and wore big white heels. I would have guessed she was going to a 70’s or 80’s costume party if this were any place else.
“Hello, it’s nice to meet you,” she came forward with a smile but that curled into a look of derision, “I’d shake your hands, but I see you are playing with your booties or something.” she chewed gum while she talked like an art form, it was actually kind of sexy in a shallow and insincere way. She sat on the couch next to my brother and said “Ooh how you doing?” while simultaneously taking out her nail file to give herself a touch-up. My brother acted a little shy and she told him her name was Doris.
“Hi Doris, I am Chris,” he said back.
“Ooh, I want to fuck you, you got a big dick?” She wasted no time making it clear she was flirting – kissing the air with her rosy red lipstick for his benefit.
The only thing I could think about this woman was she was equal parts Rosie Perez and that annoying “Jack-ay” from 227 that comes on Nick at Night.
My brother didn’t say anything back and she didn’t take any offense to that - she just kept right on blowing on her nails and honing them. I have to admit – they looked great!
“You two bitches are in here running your mouth? I know because I don’t hear any shit out in the parking lot.” a third and final woman’s voice emerged from the hallway and as I heard the click-clack of heels down the short-hallway that led into the living room I expected to see more of the same.
“Hi I am Maya, and you must be new?” she stood at about 6’4” in heels, and wore a corset, very sexy fishnets and garters. Her black stiletto heels were shiny and provocative and her tits were enormous – like a porn star. She had long natural blonde hair and a face like Marylyn Monroe. She held her cigarette like Greta Garbo in an old film noir and there was something sexy and glamorous about her that impressed me.
She was equal part Jane Mansfield and Jessica Rabbit – and on top of her overt sexiness was a sort of catty enthusiasm. She looked right at me and parted her lips with a pout and gave me a wink like she just thought the site of me bending over naked was the campy and totally normal.
She moved with a practiced grace that I would probably never master and everything about her facial expressions seemed exaggerated but intensely provocative and lady like.
“Shut up and sit down Big Bird, Rahjid wants to go over his precious rules with us.” Ronnie told the woman.
“Oh hush your fanny, Jigga-butt, you know that I don’t give a shit, dahling!” Maya answered Ronnie in her ribald over-the-top kind of way. She put her hand over her mouth to direct a whisper that everyone could hear right at me “They call me big bird, because I am so tall and positive all the time – Jealous!” she hid her finger pointing right at the two other girls - they knew she was pointing at them but it was all in good fun. It was pretty clear they were all used to bagging on each other and I had to wonder if that was like my mom and my banter on some level.
She sort of lit up the room with her presence, and all eyes were on her. She remained standing which made me even more intimidated by the vastness of her presence filling the tiny room.
“You will be shutting up please, because the two girls are the wife-in-laws to take the 5B room and you will not be under-cutting them or trying to trick them!” Rahjid demanded. Everyone remained in a casual and relaxed manner around us which only provided a stark contrast to the fact we were naked and bent over holding our ass cheeks apart in high protocol.
“Good, 5B smells like dead fish anyhow,” Ronnie commented derisively.
“That’s because you were in there spreading that punani, Chica!” Doris laughed.
“Oh, I’d know if it was god-damned Rice and bean fart in there!” Ronnie shot back.
Okay, maybe this wasn’t quite the same back and forth my mom and I had.
“Shssshhhhttt!” Rahjid held up his hand, “Every minute you are here running mouth, you are not running your vaj-jay-jays for the money. So listen to the rules, because these two are going to be partners with the pimp.”
He introduced my dad and brother and Ronnie immediately replied in concern “Oh nuh-uh, I am not splitting more money with them!”
“You are having the same pay-out! Now just listen, they are here to keep the eye on the new girls.”
“Oh okay, I wouldn’t mind fucking the handsome one,” Ronnie who had just spit venom at the idea of additional pimps, overtly flirted with my dad. My dad shrugged that he was flattered but didn’t answer her.
“Yeah, I like the son, he has some meat on his bones, you have a sweet face!” Doris rubbed my brother’s chest. I didn’t feel an ounce of jealousy and why should I? He is the boss of me and he fucked me today. That’s my job to be his cum-bucket bitch and so what right would I have to get possessive anyway? I mean other than he is MY brother and I have to look out for him (note to self: think about if on some level you think no girl is good enough for your brother). It was good to see that he didn’t really seem to want her attention anyway though – smart.
“Well who are these delicious biscuits in the middle of the floor? That is what I want to know” Maya exuded a sexuality that sent a shiver up my spine as she touched my skin with her long sexy finger. She wore antique over-sized rings that were probably cosmetic jewelry – big rubies and cubic zirconias.
“You are Cow-tits, and the Ass Face?” Rahjid asked us seriously and the whores exploded into hysterical laughter.
“Yes Sir, I am Cow-tits,” My mom was the first to respond after the wave of laughter at our expense died down.
“Oh honey, I am the Cow-tits here,” Maya cupped her giant DD boobs in the bustier she had on, then stuck out her tongue to reach the nipple.
My mom didn’t straighten up – she reached over to pinch her right tit and squeeze and after a few strokes a little milk squirted onto the carpet, “That’s why they call me Cow-tits, Ma’am”
There was laughter this time, but now it was more approving than before. “Okay, and why they call you Ass-face then little Tinkerbutt?” Ronnie asked me.
“They call me Ass-face, so I don’t get a big ego about my pretty face, and to keep me humble, Ma’am”. I replied.
She touched her cheek and said, “You better enjoy that pretty face, because out here on the street, they’ll use that up quick, and then your best friend will be Maybelline and Avon.” her voice had a hint of old-time gospel revival in it when she gave me advice.
“Those are some harsh names, girls. You sure you don’t want to use something like Candy or Genevieve? Sexy beasts like you should have sexy names.” Maya purred at my mother and I couldn’t help but smile back as I saw her lipstick glisten over her broad toothy smile.
I didn’t answer her question but I knew that the answer would have to be something humiliating about these names being chosen for us. Instead, when I tried to engage my brain to send words to my mouth I said “When I grow up, I want to be just like you, Ma’am.” I was thinking that but I couldn’t believe I said it out loud.
There was laughter from Ronnie and Doris but Maya asked “Oh, and why is that honey?”
I honestly don’t know why I said that. I think just being bent at the waist and looking at this impressive woman – I was overwhelmed. I could only think of a powerful Clydesdale, the horses that pull the beer wagons. How they are over-sized in every way of a regular horse but have this sort of carriage in their movements.
I swallowed while I tried to think of something suitable to get me out of this ,“You just seem like womanhood personified and distilled.” I bleated meekly in response.
“You don’t know the half of it, honey” she swiveled her hips and I memorized the pattern of her movement. I admit I was truly enamored of her style and presence and impressed – she seemed larger than life in a way that simply didn’t belong with the others.
Rahjid silenced our discussion and went over the rules he had established for all the “Hos”. They booed and mocked like a bad class of 10th
graders when they get a substitute teacher for the first time as he listed them off.
RULES OF THE “GAME”
50 “50/50” BJ to get them hard and then fucking
100 dollar ‘around the world’ (anything)
(If the trick wants any “extras” we are to be creative in our pricing along these lines.)
“Why can’t they just come get another condom? Why bring the old one. All that matters is they turn in the money, right?” My brother had to ask the question twice to get Rahjid to acknowledge him.
“Because he is a pervert. He likes to make us cart the nasty old condom across the parking lot and show it to him like a trophy. The same reason he has peep holes in all the bathrooms to watch us take a dump – he nasty.” Ronnie said to titters and laughter from the other girls.
“Those peep holes were there when I buy the motel!” Rahjid answered defensively without addressing Chris’s question “And besides, I need to make sure you are not wasting time on the toilet doing the chrystal meth when you could be making more money!”
“Honey, I done told you, I am totally clean and sober, have been for six years!” Ronnie became serious as if she were deeply offended.
“Besides the occasional joint!” Doris slapped her on the knee and laughed.
“Well I won’t lie, there is that,” Ronnie became light hearted and joked back.
Maya looked at me sweetly, “We are a family here, we get each other’s back and we can kid each other.” she explained.
“Sir, should we stand up and get dressed so we can work too?” My mom had heard Maya but didn’t reply.
“No, I am having the enjoyment of seeing you two this way, you other girls will stand this way for the rest of our meeting!” Rahjid demanded.
“Oh hell to the naw we are NOT!” Doris said and the others laughed.
“Do you see, what I am working with? They are the bitches of Naraka!” which I assumed Naraka was some kind of Indian Hell.
While the girls became flustered and antsy about having to sit and listen this long, I noticed my mom looking at me for a long time while we held our position – I had not wanted to make her jealous by saying I wanted to grow up to be Maya. When I got the chance and I thought no one was listened I whispered in her ear, “You know you are my number one role model on being a woman.”
My mom didn’t say anything back and I wished she would – I kept wondering what was on her mind. She was so serious and businesslike that I couldn’t tell if she was afraid, humiliated, or just humoring Dad and Chris and wasn’t nervous or disgusted at all.
More importantly I didn’t know if I had hurt her feelings by my off-hand compliment about Maya.
Some Charlie Sheen Party Night things were starting out as – So far this had been nothing like I imagined it would be. I had the intense feeling though that it soon would be.
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