Wednesday, October 3, 2012

Slave Son

Slave Son
by Chunk301

Kathy Harris unlocked the front door and wearily walked into her home, slamming the door behind her. Her heels clacked on the cold hard tiled floor of the short entryway as she edged along the wall, vaguely searching for the light switch with the back of her hand. It was late, and she was tired, wanting no more than a hot shower and a stiff drink before going to bed. She clicked on the light finally, and realized that that was not to be.
The living room was a wreck with dirty dishes scattered across the low coffee table, comic books and magazines strewn about in disarray on the floor and sofa, and a shirt and jacket draped on the stairway banister. The television was playing, blaring with no one in the room, with all the room’s lights glaring. Kathy shook her head in disbelief.
“Damn, Billy,” she whispered. “Why today?”
She turned the knob on the wall, dimming the living room lights, then clicked off the television. “Billy!” she called out, looking disgustedly at the half-eaten food dishes on the table. She saw the remains of breakfast cereal in a bowl, the filthy spoon dripping on one corner of the polished walnut, and there was a growing water stain seeping from beneath the half-drunk glass of milk as the condensation had spread and dried on the smooth tabletop. “Billy!” she called again, with still no answer!
Billy had stayed home from school that morning with the flu, or so she thought. She had no problem with that- kids get sick- but she had told him to stay in bed, and obviously he had not. Not too sick to gorge on cereal apparently, the sugar and milk sure to upset his weak stomach. Kathy shook her head and sighed as she started to pick up the mess he had left, then thought better of it.
‘No,’ she thought, ‘If he can make the mess, he can DAMN well clean it up!’
Kathy walked towards the stairs, setting her briefcase on the hall table and pausing in front of the full-length mirror. She looked tired, the woman in the reflection, and old. Kathy was just 44, and still in good shape after having two children, and raising a third stepson all on her own after her husband had died. Her light brown hair was long, tied back with a butterfly clip into a loose ponytail, with only a few traces of gray streaking the edges of her temples. Her body was firm and muscular from her regular morning workouts at the office, and slightly tanned from her evening 3-mile runs over the last summer. Her legs still curved nicely, accentuated by her three-inch black leather pumps, and her dark gray business suit showed off her trim waist and ample breasts. Her skin was clear of blemishes, make-up highlighting her natural beauty slightly, in just the right places. Except for the bags under her eyes, and the haggard look from too little sleep recently she was happy with the way she looked. Not old she decided after all, but mature.
Smiling slightly, she turned and climbed the stairs, slipping out of her jacket as she went. At the top of the stairs she laid her purse and jacket on a table there and stepped purposefully towards her stepson’s room. ‘He better be there!’ she thought, ‘or there’ll be Hell to pay’.
He was…
Kathy opened the door to her stepson’s room and gasped in shock. Billy Harris was on his bed, almost naked save for the nylon rope binding his hands behind his back and the similar cords wrapped around his knees and ankles. There was a large swath of silver duct-tape covering his lower face, gagging his mouth effectively. A dog collar was locked about his throat and chained to the headboard of the bed with a leash giving him only a little bit of slack to move about. He was wearing a pair of his sister's flowery cotton bikini panties as well, covering his privates. He looked up as his door swung open, and his eyes grew wide and wild. His skin quickly turned red with his obvious embarrassment, and he curled up pathetically as best as he was able.
Kathy staggered back against the door-jam in disbelief, her own eyes wide and her hand covering her mouth which was slack and agape. She did not understand what was going on, her world spinning suddenly madly and out of sync. ‘My god!’ she thought, ‘were we robbed? What’s going on?’
Kathy gathered her wits quickly however, the result of hundreds of corporate power struggles. She worked as a broker in a local firm, millions of dollars passing through her fingers on a daily basis, and she was well trained to think quickly on her feet. She ran to her stepson’s bedside, and oblivious to the pain it would bring, peeled back a corner of his gag and ripped it away with one quick yank. He squealed in pain, spitting something out of his mouth that fell wetly onto the coverlet. It was a pair of her own panties; a soiled pair that she had worn the day before and dropped into the dirty clothes hamper that night. She looked at them, crumpled and soggy on the bed, and she became more bewildered than before.
She looked down at Billy, but the boy could not meet her gaze, still curling in a queer fetus position. He was still red as a beet too, and looked pathetic swathed in rope with his sister’s panties clinging damply to his ass. He was not a handsome boy, she realized perhaps for the first time, always having seen him through a mother’s eyes before. He was small, short and thin. He barely showed any muscle, and had a slightly bloated belly from too much soda, despite his thin body. His hair almost matched her own shade of brown and was actually longer than her own. He had his father’s wide ears and tiny nose and sparkling blue eyes, his best feature she thought. He was not ugly, she decided, but he was no prize catch either.
Kathy reached for the collar around his neck and started to unfasten the clasp, then hesitated. Something was not right here. ‘If we were robbed,’ she reasoned, ‘what was stolen? And why would someone – a robber – go to the trouble of going through the dirty clothes to get a pair of dirty panties to gag him with? He doesn’t look beat up. And why the collar? We don’t have a dog. Something’s not right.’
Her fingers lingered on the clasp of the collar then moved slightly to grasp his chin. She turned his face to look at her, and his eyes met her own briefly before he looked away, closing the lids and blushing even more fiercely. Was that shame she saw?
“Billy,” she calmly asked, clearing her throat. “What happened? What’s going on?” He said nothing, so she repeated, “Billy…Were we robbed? What happened? Why are you tied up? Who did this to you?”
He still could not meet her gaze, but he tried to speak…tried to answer. His voice cut off in a high-pitched choke. Kathy put her hands on her hips and stared at her stepson, bewildered. She decided to give him a moment to gather his wits, realizing that no matter what was going on, it had to be humiliating for him to have her find him like this; naked, bound, helpless. She thought that she should untie him, but some inner voice held her back, telling her to wait. Finally Billy looked up at her and spoke, his voice barely a whisper –
“I-I’m…I did it myself.”
Kathy blinked, not believing what she had just heard. “You - YOU did this? Why?”
“I,” Billy swallowed, “I need this.”
“What?” Kathy folded her arms beneath her breasts and tried not to reel with his news. She immediately formed an idea in her head as to what this was about. She knew about men who needed to be tied up and beaten, submissive and ordered about. In fact, she had a gay friend at her office that had joked about his own like tendencies on more than one occasion. But to hear it from her own stepson… “You need this?”
“Yes,” he whispered, licking his lips as he planted his head into his pillow, trying to turn away and hide as best he could.
Kathy dipped her hand into her dress pocket and pulled out a small cigarette case. It was silver, and monogrammed with her initials, a gift from her daughter Jennifer. She took out a cigarette and lit it, sighing deeply as the nicotine calmed her racing pulse. Replacing the case in her pocket, she sat on the edge of the bed, crossing her ankles and smoothing her skirt. She locked her gaze on her stepson in a fashion she had learned at work; cold and fierce, and this made him squirm in embarrassment. She did not care. She wanted the truth.
“Explain, Billy. What’s this all about?” She settled back, blowing pale blue smoke over his head as she assumed a business-like tone that she had developed over the years. She waited patiently for him to answer, trying to stay cool and detached.
He tried to look at her, but could not, and resigned to look at her legs, long and smooth and clad in sheer gray nylon. “I- I used to get excited by comic books that had bondage scenes in them. Y’know, women tied up, or men at the mercy of a female super-villain. I liked close-up drawings of the women’s feet, and scenes of shrunken men and big women. I didn’t understand at first, but I…I would get hard, and finally started masturbating to them. I went out looking for these kinds of books. Then I found out that there were magazines that catered to my way of…thinking. Bondage magazines, S&M…I spent every penny of my allowance needing more and more new scenes to excite me. I started to draw my own drawings, and write stories where I was the slave. I started to tie myself up for the thrill, sometimes at night, when I knew you and Jennifer and Christy were still up and about and could walk in on me anytime.”
“Have you ever…” Kathy did not know quite what to ask. “Have you ever had sex? Like this I mean.”
“No,” Billy answered sheepishly, turning even redder. “I’ve never had sex, period. I’ve gone on dates, but girls don’t like me really. I asked one to tie me up once, but she just laughed at me. It was all over school the next day, that I was ‘weird’, and a ‘pervert’. I got beat up for it once.”
Kathy puffed on her cigarette, looking down at her stepson, trying to understand. “Why does this excite you?”
“I don’t know. It just does.”
Kathy dropped her spent butt into a can of soda on the nightstand, listening to it sizzle as she thought about her stepson, watching him squirm and tremble slightly. “You’ve never paid anyone to do this for you?” she asked.
“No. I thought about it, but a Dominatrix- that’s what they’re called- they’re too expensive.”
Kathy nodded, and for the first time noticed the bulge under the stolen panties that her stepson was wearing. “Does this still excite you Billy? Me sitting here, finding you like this?”
“Yes,” he whispered, hanging his head, trying to bury his face into his pillow.
“It turns you on to be tied up in front of me?” He nodded.
“It excites you to wear your sister’s underwear and to have mine in your mouth?” He nodded again, ashamed.
“Answer me!”
He blinked and looked up at her face. She must look mad as hell she knew, and stern. Maybe even dominant, at least to him… “Yes,” he whispered again.
“Do I excite you? And Christy? And Jennifer?”
“Yes.”
“When you tie yourself up at night, do you fantasize that your sisters and I did it to you? Do you pretend that you’re our prisoner? Or maybe our slave?”
He started to cry then, not believing that she, his mother was asking him these questions. He squirmed on the bed, his hands twisting in the ropes binding his wrists, but the knots just drew tighter Kathy saw. He had done too good a job. The perfect little Boy Scout…
“Answer me!” she snapped with a trace of anger now growing in her voice.
“Yes,” he whimpered, a little shocked by her tone of voice apparently. “Mom…Please! Will you just untie me now? I don’t like this anymore.”
Kathy ignored her stepson’s plea and stood up. She looked about the room, her hands on her hips. It was a typical boy’s room, she supposed, with posters on the walls, dirty clothes piled on the floor, and comic books strewn about. She looked down at him again, frowning. He really looked pathetic like that; tied up and blushing, half-naked.
“Where do you keep these magazines, and your stories and drawings?” He did not answer, but she saw him glance at his dresser, checking to see if any incriminating evidence was visible no doubt. She stalked over to the bureau and slid open the bottom drawer and began to dig through the clothes, finding what she was looking for hidden in the back almost immediately. She took out a sizable stack of newsprint and glossy magazines, a drawing pad and several spiral notebooks used for writing and held them up for Billy to see.
“Is this it?” she demanded, and Billy hung his head again.
“Mom…please…”
“IS THIS IT?” she snapped emphasizing every word.
“No…There’s some downstairs I think…by the sofa. Mom…Please untie me now.”
Kathy strolled to his bedside and set the pile of porn on the nightstand with a thump. She had seen the stacks downstairs as well, but had not really looked at what was there. She stared down at him in disgust, sneering at his helplessness and the pathetic look on his face. She could not believe that this was her stepson, and still did not fully understand how he could NEED this…humiliation. She had sexual needs as well. Everyone did. But not like this! Not in her stepson! No…she did not understand – YET. But she would learn.
With thumb and forefinger she daintily picked up her soiled panties from where he had spat them onto the bed and considered what she was about to do. It was wrong, she knew. He was her stepson, after all. But better she than some pox-filled whore. And he wanted it. She could see it in his tear stained eyes as he looked up at her, almost hopefully she thought.
Screwing up her courage, Kathy stuffed the panties back into her stepson’s mouth. He gagged, and tried to protest as she pushed them deeper with her finger, then picked up the discarded tape and replaced it, pressing hard as she smoothed down the edges across his soft cheeks. Satisfied, watching him squirm in disbelief, she finally picked up the stack of his pornographic literature and turned striding towards the door.
Billy screamed into his gag and she hesitated and turned, her finger resting on the light switch –
“Mmmmn!”
“I don’t really understand all of this Billy,” she said, her voice low and tired. “I can understand, and even accept that you have certain needs, but I don’t know what I should do about it. You’re barely sixteen, and not an adult, legally, but you act like a little kid. And I’m not going to let you ruin your life going to some whore who’s going to tie you up and whip you, giving you God knows what diseases in the process.
“I’m going to read all of this stuff, and see if I can figure out what to do. Until I come back, I think you should stay like you are and decide if you really DO like it, knowing that I know and am walking around free while you’re tied up like a prisoner. This is as close as you’ve gotten to your fantasies, I imagine, so let’s see what a few hours of reality does for your ‘needs’.”
And as Billy screamed into his gag, Kathy flicked off the light and closed the door.
Billy Harris shuddered at the finality of the door latch locking into place. He shivered in the darkness of his room, listening as his mother’s heels clicked down the hall, then muffled as she descended the stairs, not believing that this was happening to him. He snuffed back tears and mucous, trying to breathe through his gag, and strained at the ropes that were tightening around his wrists for his effort.
Silently he cursed himself. ‘Stupid! Stupid! Why did I tie the knots so tight? Why wasn’t I watching the time? How did this happen?’
He had planned it all weekend, and so well he had thought. His mother would be at work all day, and his sister, Jennifer had cheerleading practice after school, so they would both be home late. Christy almost never came home for a visit during the week, as she was away at college in a neighboring town some thirty miles away. He would play sick and hooky from school and tie himself up all day long. It was so simple, or so it had seemed.
That morning he had stayed in bed until his mother had come in to check on him. He had spoken with a nasal twang, mumbling about chills during the night and an upset stomach, and wouldn’t his mother please let him stay home. Dubious, she felt his forehead for fever and said that he was a bit warm, and finally acquiesced, and went to call his school. He was elated.
It took about an hour for both his mother and sister to leave- the longest hour of his life, he thought- but finally, he was alone. He had waited for a few minutes more; just to make sure that neither was going to return for any reason, then he scrambled out of bed and put his plan into motion.
He took his favorite bondage mags from his stash in the back of his bottom dresser drawer and went downstairs, not bothering to wash after using the bathroom. He figured he would do that later, as he expected to get sweaty over the course of the day ahead. He made some cereal and toast, got milk, and plopped down in front of the television for awhile to read a few of the better stories in his magazines just to help to get in the mood. It did not take long at all.
He thought briefly about cleaning up the breakfast mess that he had made, but decided against it, figuring to have plenty of time later, and quickly, hard on raging, ran back upstairs.
He visited his sister’s room first, having planned out everything, and went right to her underwear drawer. He stole a pair of her panties after giving them all a thorough inspection. He touched many of her private things; her nylons, clothes, jewelry and such. In her closet, he kissed several of her shoes, getting more and more excited with every one he caressed. He became heady at her smell, the rank stench, still lingering on her shoes, and fantasies raced through his head.
He went to his mother’s room next, and showed it every bit of attention that he had showed his sister’s. As he was digging through her drawer of smalls however, he got a brilliant idea. He ran to his mother’s private bathroom and opened her dirty clothes hamper. He almost came at the intoxicating smell of her worn clothes, and he moaned as he plucked free a pair of her soiled panties. Satisfied with his treasures, unable to contain himself any longer, he quickly ran back to his own room.
Closing his door he tossed the stolen panties on his bed and went to his own closet. He pulled a bag from way in the back and dumped the contents on to the bed. His meager collection of bondage toys; a few separate feet of nylon cord, a roll of duct tape, a couple of handkerchiefs, a dog collar, and a chain leash were laid out before him. Quickly he stripped and crawled up on the bed.
He gagged himself first, stuffing his mother’s dirty underwear deeply into his mouth, imagining all the while that she was doing it, berating him for the pathetic slave that he was. He then ripped off several long strips of tape and pressed them over his mouth to hold the panty-gag in place. Next he slid his sister’s panties up his legs, enjoying the cool softness as he adjusted his cock and balls in their tight confines. He was happy to note that his hard-on was still raging.
He tied his knees and ankles then, moaning as he pulled the cord tightly, knotting the rope in place so that his legs were inseparable. He wormed up to the headboard then and fastened the dog chain there, then to the collar, which he locked tightly about his neck, straining at it to test its strength, and that he would not choke to death. Satisfied, he picked up the longest strand of rope and slipped his hands through the slipknot already and forever in place. With some effort, he tightened the loop, then deftly wrapped the cord round and round, back and through his wrists, binding them perhaps too thoroughly, though he was still confident that he could escape at a moment’s notice. The final knot was always the hardest, but he maneuvered the last of the cord in and around the loops about his wrists several times until he finally felt the initial slack disappear.
Satisfied, he checked the bonds, pulling at them, then writhing and straining as he imagined a true captive would. It was good.
He spent several minutes squirming and writhing on the bed, imagining that his mother and sisters were torturing him, or that a girl from school had kidnapped him, holding him captive. He fantasized that he was on display for all the women he knew, a toy for their pleasure, and he moaned and pleaded for his freedom while they laughed. In his mind, they beat him, or ordered him around, or simply flaunted their freedom while he begged. He imagined that he was the victim of every story in his magazines, but his mind eventually returned to the best and easiest to visualize…his family. It all went on for some time.
Finally, only an hour later at best, he had had enough. Sweating and sore, Billy twisted and stretched his fingers to the knots, which held his wrists in check. He wiggled his fingers, trying to get a grip on the cord and push it back through the loops, but it would not budge. He tried again, and failed again.
And again…
Slightly panicked and breathing hard now, he kept straining, but gained nothing. He pulled at the ropes, but they only seemed to grow tighter, biting mercilessly into his already chaffing wrists. He thrashed around on the bed, but quickly became winded and weak, being able to only breathe through his nose. The ropes only seemed to tighten with every attempt he made to get free.
He was trapped!
He laid there for hours, his bladder aching shortly, his wrists rubbing raw with his futile attempts to free himself, but ever gaining nothing. He tried and tried, but could not get free. Then, before he knew it, he heard the front door unlocking downstairs, then opening! He thrashed about again, trying to free himself, panicking, wondering who it was. He heard the click-clack of heels on the stairs and the outer hall, and felt his penis swiftly swell and throb to erection again.
The door had opened…
Kathy tossed the final spiral notebook onto the coffee table with the others and chain-lit another cigarette.
She could not believe the things she had read in the bondage magazines and especially in the notebooks of her stepson, the stories that he had written…and the drawings! She and Christy and Jennifer, drawn in caricature, tying Billy up, beating him, branding him, and making him lick their feet. He had a comic strip of them shrinking him to 4 inches tall and abusing his little body with their feet.
She could not believe it…
In all of the drawings he was naked and helpless, often bound in some way. It was unreal. There were pictures of other women too; from school, the supermarket, and the subway she assumed by the notes and content. Pictures of women he had seen in passing, and liked enough to fantasize about. There were fat women, skinny girls, a lot of Asians, but mainly beautiful women with big tits and detailed legs and shoes. All were drawn incredibly well, she noted. Her stepson did have a talent with drawing. But the subject matter…
He was not alone in his way of thinking, apparently, if the magazines had any truth to them. A lot of men paid big money to be tied up and humiliated, beaten by women in ways and positions that she would not have dreamed possible.
She picked up one in particular off the coffee table. It was called Dominant Magic, and on the cover was a drawing of two women abusing her stepson. It was signed: Billy -07-. She did not recognize the women dressed in leather skirts and boots and teddies, though one resembled Christy slightly. They were savaging his ass with some metallic wheel device, like a pizza slicer, but prickly. Kathy wondered just how involved Billy was with the magazine.
His stories were the worst though. Not as graphically detailed as the articles in the magazines, they were worse because she knew the characters. Hell! She was the star in most of them. The stories all told of she and her daughters somehow, for some reason overpowering Billy, tying him up and keeping him as a slave and whipping boy. They would make him do all the housework, wait on them hand and foot, and basically make him grovel before them for any reason. They would beat him, keep him tied up for days on end, and even loan him out to the neighbors. In one story, Christy raped him with a strap-on dildo. In another, his friend Steve was induced to rape him then had sex with Jennifer on top of Billy’s body, which was tied spread-eagled on the bed.
It was too much…
Too much…
Kathy tossed away the magazine and crushed out her cigarette. Getting up, she strolled to the kitchen feeling totally exhausted, mentally and physically. She poured herself a tall Scotch and leaned against the countertop, sipping it slowly. The liquor tasted good, burning as it went down and helping to calm her nerves, though she hated to resort to it.
What to do?
She thought about calling the magazine, as there was a phone number, but decided against it. What would she say? ‘My son wants to be my slave. What should I do about it?’ She had read a few of the personal letters and their responses, and most were in favor of the woman taking control and using the man. Most of the men were willing to give themselves up totally to their ‘Mistresses’, serving them, giving them their pay, and taking whatever abuses the women dreamed up. Then asking, even begging for more!
Was Billy like that?
She had to admit, having an extra paycheck every week would be nice. Kathy made six-digits annually, plus bonuses, but still, it never seemed to be enough. There was always something else to buy. And to have someone to do all the tedious housework; the laundry and ironing, the vacuuming, the dusting…
Stop it!
She gulped down the last swallow of her drink and placed the glass in the sink. She felt better, warm and content, and just maybe relaxed enough to deal with this crisis. She set her mind to go upstairs and untie him. She would ground his ass for a year and make him get rid of all the pornographic shit he had accumulated. She would make him apologize, to her and Christy…No. Better Christy and Jennifer never found out. Thank god Christy was away at college, not due for a visit for a few more days. God…
She retrieved her glass from the sink and poured another Scotch, not quite ready to deal with this yet.


“Mom! I’m home!”
Kathy gasped dropping her glass as the voice of her daughter snapped her out of her reverie. It hit the carpeted floor of the kitchen and bounced, luckily not breaking, but spilling half a glass of Scotch across the floor.
“Shit!” Kathy cursed indecisive whether to clean up the mess or head off her daughter. She tossed a dishtowel over the spill and raced from the kitchen.
Jennifer was standing by the coffee table thumbing through one of Billy's magazines when Kathy ran into the living room. Her daughter was still dressed in her black and gold cheerleader’s uniform of a tight sweater, short black skirt, and tennis shoes. She had her long blonde hair tied back in a tail, framing her beautiful face nicely. She had a good body at 17 years, and was one of the most popular girls at school, almost the exact opposite of her pathetic brother.

When Kathy entered, Jennifer glanced over and broke out in a fit of laughter. “What the fuck is this?” she asked, holding out the magazine.
Kathy sighed in relief, seeing that Jennifer was taking it as a joke…so far. What would she say when she learned about her stepbrother though?
“This is sick…Billy’s I assume?”
Kathy blinked. How did she know? But of course, the only other choice was that it was Kathy’s…
“What…Did he leave this stuff here, or did you find it in his room? Fuckin’ little perv!”
“You-You knew? Christy knew?” Kathy asked incredulously.
“Yeah…” Jennifer shrugged, flipping through the pages. “He’s been a busy little monkey for a couple of years now. I've caught him doin’ stuff, and he quick, hides like, and pretends he isn’t up to nothin’. But I knew better. I’m his sister, after all. I snuck into his room before and found his stash, but he didn’t have all this.”
“You’ve seen his drawings then? His stories?”
“Yeah… me and Christy both. But he doesn’t mean anything really. It’s not like he’s gonna attack anyone or something. Hell! It’s just the opposite, I suppose. He wants somebody to attack him.” Jennifer smirked and tossed the magazine aside in favor of Billy’s drawing pad. “He’s actually pretty good.”
Kathy lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, shaking her head. “I don’t know how you can take this so calmly.”
“Aw, lighten up Mom. It’s just a phase. He’s a boy at that age where he wants to fuck everything in sight. He’s just confused. We learned all about it in Psychology last semester. He’s submissive and a little bit of a masochist, though I think he’s more into humiliation than pain. He’s got a fetish or two, just like everybody. It’s just that his are a little more kinky than other peoples’.”
“I don’t have any fetish!”
“Sure you do, Mom. Everybody does. That just means, in terms of sex, some certain thing you favor, like a position, or a way of kissing, or a tickle, or getting licked out…Anything. Don’t tell me you have straight sex all the time? No variation at all?”
“Jennifer!” Kathy started to scold her daughter, until she realized that she was right. Kathy liked having her pussy eaten, even bit! Was that a fetish? And Jon at work said he liked women’s shoes. And Alex liked anal sex. What did her current beau, James, like? She wondered…
“I caught him once, Y’know?”
“What?”
“Billy. I caught him once.” Jennifer smiled nonchalantly. “I heard him beatin’ off in the bathroom, so I peaked through the key-hole.”
“Jenn!”
“He was lookin’ at one of his magazines and strokin’ his meat with a pair of my panties from the dirty clothes. He came like a cannon. I’ve never seen so much jism.”
“And just when have you ever had the opportunity to see any ‘jism’, young lady?”
“Mom…We’re talkin’ about Billy here, remember?” Jennifer back-pedaled with a rosy blush.
“Oh, I’ll remember all right. Go on,” Kathy said with half a smile.
“Any way…I waited awhile after he went back to his room, and I heard some weird, grunting and moaning sounds so I turned off all the lights and I snuck through the bathroom to his adjoining door. I pushed it open a crack an’ saw him on the bed. He had tied himself up and was rollin’ around like he was tryin’ to get free. Somehow he had tied his wrists and ankles together, behind his back. Hog-tied I think they call it.”
“What did you do?” Kathy asked wide-eyed but intent on listening. Some how it was easier to deal with, now that Kathy knew that her daughter was aware of what was going on as well.
“Nothing. I could barely hold back the laughing. I had to run back to my room. I think he heard me, but he never said a thing. Neither did I. I was saving it to hold over his head when I needed it.” Jennifer tossed down the drawing pad and pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from her purse. Lighting one, she plopped onto the sofa and propped her feet on the coffee table, crossing her ankles. She looked up at her mother –
“So…What are you gonna do? Ground his ass forever I hope.”
Kathy stared at her daughter, noting the cruel smirk playing on her lips and couldn’t help but notice the resemblance to Billy’s caricature drawings. She sat in an easy chair, across from her daughter, and crossed her legs. She hesitated, only for a moment.
“There’s more.” She sighed, watching her daughter’s eyes sparkle with anticipation.
“Oh yeah? What?”
“Right now…Your stepbrother,” Kathy swallowed, wishing she hadn’t dropped her drink. “Your stepbrother is up in his room… tied up and gagged.”
“Get out!” Jennifer squealed.
Kathy raised a hand to quiet her daughter. “He’s wearing a pair of your panties…and…and he has a pair of mine stuffed in his mouth.”
“Shit!” Jennifer leaped to her feet, and before Kathy could stop her she was racing up the stairs taking two steps at a time.
“Jennifer! Wait!” But her daughter did not slow, and Kathy hurried up the stairs after her, more than a little excited to see what would happen next…


Jennifer burst through the door of her stepbrother's room with an unadulterated glee. Her heart was pounding, pulsing in her ears even though she knew what to expect. Even so, her eyes grew wide, and a gasp of astonishment escaped her lips as she saw her younger stepbrother bound and helpless on the bed. He was still tied, hand and foot, just as her mother had described him. His gag had peeled back at one corner, she noted, and his cock was raging beneath the flimsy confines of her cotton panties that he had stolen. He looked pathetic, she thought, and her mind swirled with ideas on how she could exploit the situation to her advantage.
With a giggle of delight she jogged forward andjogged forward and hopped right up onto the bed to peer down at her helpless sibling. His eyes were wide with fright, a pleading look wrinkling his brows as he stared up at her, she towering over him. She bent down, her palms resting on her knees for support as she stared quizzically at poor, captive Billy. An evil grin twisted her lips at the corners, pinching the skin at the edges of her eyes.
"This is so cool."
Jennifer flopped down on top of him, forcing Billy onto his back with her weight, and sat right on his chest. She wriggled a bit until she could hold his head between her knees, then leaned in close when he was immobilized. Whispering-
"You little shit. You're really in it deep this time."
She chuckled, squeezing her thighs together, locking his head in place until she could feel him squirming beneath her. He was sweating, and Jennifer could smell the fear radiating off of her stepbrother. She felt a dampening between her legs as a wave of lust racked her body. She shivered with excitement and power. She licked her lips as her hand probed behind her, gingerly stroking the rock hard cock she found waiting.
Billy moaned…
"Like that, hunh?" Jennifer squeezed his balls until Billy squealed into his gag like a pig.
"Jennifer!"
Jennifer turned towards the door, her ponytail swishing about her shoulders. Her mother was standing in the doorway, her mouth open in a silent 'O' of astonishment as she watched Jennifer torturing her little stepbrother. Jennifer smirked, and gave her stepbrother's balls a final squeeze before releasing her grip.
"Get off of him!" Her mother's voice cracked as she stomped over to the bed, a look of terror washing across her face.
Jennifer swiveled on one knee to face her mother, bringing her right leg up and over Billy, only to plant it firmly on his throat. Billy choked as his air supply was cut off, and Jennifer leaned to her right, applying more pressure. He quickly began to squirm and scream, his muffled cries like sweet nothings to her ears.
"Jennifer! Stop it! You're hurting him..."
Jennifer rolled her eyes and sighed. "Mo-ther! I told you before. He likes this." Still, she eased the pressure from Billy's throat when she saw the bluish pallor of his face.
"No! This has gone far enough." Kathy moved to pull the tape from her stepson's mouth but Jennifer rolled off of the bed and stepped between her mother and stepbrother. Gently she pushed her mother to a stop, listening to Billy as he sucked great lungs full of air through his nose, whining with every breath. She could not stop the tingling with the excitement that crackled through her body. Nor did she want to. She was hyped- high on the moment, and her brain whirled with ideas on how to make the moment last.
"C'mon Mom. Look at him." Jennifer glanced back over her shoulder and gave her stepbrother a huge grin. His color was almost back to normal and his breathing had slowed to as best as was possible with his current limitations. He had stopped squirming though, and seemed to be listening to what they would say.
Jennifer turned back to her mother and immediately noticed that the look of terror was gone, replaced by a look of almost fascination. She was intrigued, Jennifer knew, and it would not take much to push her over the razor's edge of right and wrong that she was walking. Jennifer guided her mother away from the bed, and out of earshot.
"He's loving every second of this. He needs to be cured of his sick little perversions, and his fantasies about us. The best way to do that is to give him what he wants, but to the extreme. Make every minute a living hell for him so he sees that this ‘slave fantasy’ of his isn't what he thought it'd be. It's like a smoker lighting up a whole pack of cigarettes at once and smoking to get sick of the habit. We'll show him what it's really like to be a slave."
Jennifer watched her mother; the older woman's gaze focused on the bed behind her. Jennifer knew that her mother was struggling with the idea, and if it was anyone but her stepson she would have probably already agreed. She saw hesitation in Kathy's eyes.
"But - He's your brother. My stepson."
"So?" Jennifer chuckled. "And he’s my STEP-brother, not my real brother. It's not like we're gonna have sex with him anyway. We're just gonna punish him. It'll be just like usual; but he'll be doing the chores, the cooking, the cleaning, and the laundry. He'll be grounded same as he always is it seems. The only difference will be that he does nothing without our permission. He eats when we say. He sleeps when we're through with him. We'll spank him if he fucks up, or just to let him know who's boss. We keep him humiliated by just wearing my panties or nothing at all. We can even keep him tied and leashed, just like a dog!"
"Jennifer!"
"C'mon Mom. Wouldn't it be great to have someone to do all the chores around here, and to have someone wait on us hand and foot, like a butler and a maid all rolled into one?"
"Well," Jennifer’s mother hesitated, thinking those very thoughts again.
"Wouldn't you like to have someone rub your feet after a long day? Give you a massage? I know I would. And I know you. You'll ground him for a coupl'a months, then give in and let him off for good behavior. If we don't stop him now, he'll just keep it up. And it'll get worse!"
“Worse?” Kathy blinked, glancing at her stepson again. “How could it possibly get worse?” Jennifer smirked.
“Look at us, Mom. This is as close as he’s ever gotten to one of his fantasies, tied up with us watching him. He’s never going to get this close again on his own – certainly, not without help! If we don’t do this for him, cure him of this, he’s eventually going to crave more and more, and to get that he’s going to have to pay for it. He’ll hire a Hooker! And it’s not like he can’t find one.” Jennifer gestured at the magazines on the floor and nightstand. “This is New York. There are hundreds of women over in the city alone that’ll do this for him for the right price.
“And where’s he gonna get the money? Think about it, Mom. Maybe he’ll get a job, but odds are it won’t be enough. He’ll steal from us, then others! Maybe he’ll become a mugger or a bank robber-“
“Jennifer!”
“Well,” Jennifer sniggered, “it could happen.”
“Somehow I doubt it.” Kathy smiled, looking at her stepson. “Still… What do you suggest?” Jennifer smirked again.
“I was hoping you’d ask.”

It had been almost a full week since Billy Harris’ exciting and embarrassing ordeal had come to an end. He had been surprised to say the least when his mother and sister had freed him from his self-inflicted bondage. From the snatches of their conversation that he had heard he had thought that Jennifer had convinced their mother to keep him tied and make him serve a penance as their slave to wean him of his ‘perverted’ ideas. His stepmother had had other plans, apparently.
“You’re grounded, Billy,” she had said as Jennifer undid the knots of his bed-tie, releasing him, “at least until I decide otherwise and then some. You’ll be doing all, and I mean ALL of the work around the house from now on; the cooking and cleaning, the yard work and the laundry. In a way you’ll be living out your little fantasies, as Jennifer and I will be giving you your orders and making sure that you do what you’re told. Until I say otherwise there’ll be no television, no going out with friends or on dates, no computer, nothing! You go to school, and then you come home and do as we say. Do you understand?”
Billy hung his head at that point, trying to suppress a smile and saying “Yes, ma’am.” It was not the perfect fantasy, but he would be under the thumb of his mother and sister, and that was close enough. There would be time enough for the bondage when he was eventually alone. He hoped they would spank him if he did wrong.
“Billy!” His mother’s eyes were cruel as he sat up on the bed, rubbing his wrists. He was still blushing, still embarrassed as he sat before them in his sister’s flowery panties but he could barely contain his excitement.
“Your grounding starts now! I want you to go downstairs and clean up the mess you left. I’ll be getting rid of all of this perverted sex material.” She gestured at the bondage mags and his stories and drawings. “So put it all in a garbage bag first thing. Do the dishes and vacuum the carpets downstairs. Then we’ll think about dinner.”
With that Kathy Harris turned on her high heel and stalked out of the room. He looked up at his stepsister, Jennifer and saw her sneering down at him.
“Lucky little shit!” she snarled, gathering his ropes and dog collar. “If it was me you’d be licking the dirt off my shoes. Don’t think this is gonna be easy, squirt.” She snorted, and then left as well. Billy sighed in relief.
It had been an easy week, more or less. He had followed the rules that his mother and sister had set down and did all of the chores around the house after getting home from school. The bondage incident had not been mentioned again, of which he was glad, but there was an odd tension in the air now between the three of them. Knowing looks and blushes, whispering between the two women. It had been embarrassing and exciting, but now he hoped that it would be forgotten. He hoped too that no one else would learn of it.
His sister had been a far crueler taskmaster than his mother, lording over Billy as he did his assigned duties. He loved it though, and never received the slightest punishment for his efforts, which was both good and bad. After the better part of a week, Billy was starting to get urges again, the daily drudgery starting to get boring…
Still, life at home wasn’t so bad despite the conditions. Billy got on well with his mother and sister, and he knew that they loved him, though at times he felt that his sister, being the eldest between them, was a little more favored than he was, and their older sister Christy even more so than both of them. All children feel that at times, he supposed, and not having a father and being a step probably made a difference as well. Some people thought that he was more than a little effeminate because he was alone in a house full of women. Most times it didn’t bother him when they made their snide comments and cruel ‘fag’ jokes. Most times anyway…
Billy jumped as thunder boomed almost overhead, rattling the house to the very foundations it felt. It had been clouding up when he was on his way home from school, hurrying the odd mile walk so that he would not get caught in the sudden downpour that had looked to be coming. He had made it home however, and though the storm had not hit the sky kept getting darker and darker. Happy to be home and dry he had not given the weather another thought.
He went about his chores, following the list that his mother had left, as she had every day so far. He had done most of the heavy stuff already, earlier in the week. The vacuuming and the laundry (which his mother had supervised for his first time), sweeping out the basement last night and moving boxes about, things like that. Tonight he was scheduled to dust and polish after school (and homework if any) until he started dinner. And he had happily been doing so. Homework had been light, twenty algebra problems for Math and a short vocabulary list for English, and ever since he had been dusting and polishing everything that seemed to need it. He still had about an hour until his mother got home from the city, and Jennifer kept irregular hours, so he had some time before he had to start the ‘suggested’ dinner of Hamburger Helper on the Chore List. Dinner was maybe a twenty minute job, so he relaxed, humming and daydreaming as he worked, listening to the pounding rain, the occasional clap of thunder as the storm moved out over Long Island Sound and towards the sea beyond.
Until he heard the click and clack of the front door’s locks, followed by the door itself slamming against the wall in the entryway. And the screaming string of curses that followed…
He recognized his sister’s voice even from a room away, though he never realized what a foul mouth she had developed. He hesitated, caught between a desire to go and see what the problem was and wanting rather to head in the other direction, knowing that he would probably get the brunt of her anger. Maybe get punished. Billy licked his lips and cautiously headed towards the front of the house.
He saw Jennifer standing there in the entryway, looking a mess from the storm. She was struggling from her long trenchcoat, apparently having heard the weather report that morning, but the coat was dark with water and soaked through, dripping on the linoleum tiles of the short hallway. He saw her umbrella sitting atop the short brass stand just inside the door, ripped and tangled and apparently useless. Her long hair was matted down, flat and stringy and framing her face, which was dark with anger. With a snarl she finally freed her arms from the sodden coat and hung it roughly on one of the brass hooks lining the wall near the door where his own coat hung. Obviously pissed at her soggy condition she turned then to pick up her discarded backpack from where it lay puddling on the floor when her eyes caught sight of his own. She quickly straightened, turning slightly to face him.
“Hello, Billy,” Jennifer hissed, the corners of her mouth quirking into a smile. Billy swallowed, meeting her gaze and swiftly looking away, down at the floor and her feet. He saw no love looking his way. “Working hard, prick?” she asked, her voice hard and cold. He nodded, seeing that she had her hands on her hips and was staring at him, actually looking him up and down. Her deep blue eyes were ice, her long blond hair wild, kinking about her shoulders as it dried. He looked down again as she started forward, shouldering her bag.
He watched as she strode forward. She was wearing a pair of black rubber rain boots that he had bought her for Christmas last year and they were slick with rainwater from the sudden storm, mostly, and muddy from her trek across the front yard. He watched however as she stepped, the mud caked and encrusting the soles and edges peeling off and staining the tiles in her wake. If Jennifer noticed, she did not seem to care. When she stopped directly in front of him though, he figured that she knew well enough.
“I don’t think you’ve been working at all.” Jennifer sneered at him, looking up only slightly, as he was barely taller than she was by an inch or so. “Just look at this mess,” she continued, waving her arm back at the filthy floor of the entryway tracked with mud and water.
“You just – “
Billy saw stars, but he never saw her move. He felt her palm as it slammed into his cheek with a mighty ‘SLAP’, spinning his head sideways with the force of the unexpected blow. He actually staggered back a step, his hand going to his face more in shock than in pain as he stared wide-eyed at his stepsister.
“You arguing with me, BITCH!” she shouted, stepping up to close the distance again. Billy flinched, thinking that he was going to be struck again as he shook his head.
“No,” he said.
“Then you were lying?”
No. I – “ Again she slapped him. The second blow hurt worse than the first, causing Billy to reel, and as he stumbled back he felt the toe of his sister’s foot hook behind his ankle as her hand planted in his chest. Billy fell to the cold floor with a thud, sprawling on his ass. He stared up as his sister stepped forward again, planting one muddy boot on either side of his prone form.
“Which is it, bitch? I’m gonna tell Mom one or the other. You either haven’t been working hard, or you’re arguing with me. Neither one’s gonna win you any gold stars.”
“I have been working,” Billy whined. “I did my homework and then started in on the dusting and polishing, just like on the Chore List. You made that mess.” Billy gestured at the trail of muddy footprints leading from the door through the hallway, his hand trembling then falling again. He closed his eye, immediately regretting what he had just said. He felt a sudden weight on his chest, followed by a dampness seeping through his tee shirt as he was forced back to thud against the floor again.
Billy chanced a glance through slitted eyelids and saw his sister towering over him, one booted, muddy foot planted firmly on his chest, pinning him down. She was leaning forward slightly so that her face was cast in shadows, her golden hair a dazzling nimbus backlit by the overhead light in the hallway and framing her dark features. She had her right hand knuckled on her hip, the other resting on her knee as she stared down at him. She ground the sole of her boot into his chest and chuckled.
“Boy, you are in so much trouble,” Jennifer taunted as she stared down at him. “You think Mom’s gonna listen to you when you whine at her that I made that mess. You’re being punished, bitch. It’s your job to clean up shit like that. And just wait'll I tell mom all the grief you've been giving me."
Billy licked his lips, suddenly worried. Up until now it had not been so bad; the work and punishment, the grounding, but he knew that things could go either way. In his fantasies he wanted his stepmother and sisters to be cruel and dominant, but now, lying on the floor with his head aching from thumping on the floor and his sister with her foot grinding into his chest, he was not so sure of what he wanted. If Jennifer told their mother, things could get worse, mainly with months of grounding and drudgery tacked on. He wanted to be their slave, not some mindless drudge.
But he was rock hard too, staring up at his sister looking so beautiful and evil as she pinned him to the floor. He was breathing hard as he finally made a decision and reached up, his hands gently cupping the sides of her slick rubber boot. “Please don’t tell Mom,” he whispered, pleading with his eyes, trying to sound sincere. He saw his sister smirk.
“You little perv,” she said, sliding her booted foot forward until the rubber toe was tapping at Billy’s chin. She inched forward and pressed down, forcing his jaw open, applying pressure until he cried out.
“You think it’s that easy?” she said, pressing down as Billy tried to turn away. She finally eased off enough so that he could, but quickly slid her foot forward again to press against his cheek, thus pressing his face to the floor. She watched as the mud smeared his pale skin, the muck oozed and dripped onto his face as he struggled beneath her. “No free rides, bitch. An apology isn’t good enough anymore.”
Billy felt Jennifer’s foot tap harder and harder on his face, forcing him to turn until he was staring upwards again. Satisfied and without a pause she planted the sole of her boot squarely down onto his upturned face.
“Lick, Billy,” she ordered. “You don’t want me to tell Mom, you lick my boots clean.”
Billy could feel the mud dripping down, drooling down his face. Worse, he could taste it as it seeped into his mouth, his sister grinding down to make certain that he took in the sensation. He could feel the grit already, grinding between his teeth. Slowly he eased his tongue up and out until it pressed against the slimy sole of his sister’s boot.
He winced at the foul taste of the mud as his tongue pushed and dragged against the rubber sole. It tasted nasty, the mud sliding readily into his mouth, making him gag as he was force to swallow. But he kept licking, fearing the worst. Fearing the reprisal of countless hours of dull cleaning and cooking and the solitude of grounding. Besides, this was what he truly wanted, right?

Jennifer Harris stared down with a wide, superior grin as she watched her stepbrother lick the mud from her boots. She had smiled smugly as he tentatively reached out with his tongue, as she eased off the pressure just a bit to allow him to do his duty. He screwed up his face at the first few soft licks, and she could only imagine just how nasty it must taste, but after about a heartbeat he was leaning up and twisting his head to get at the mud with his tongue. She eased her foot down onto his face again and she could actually feel his efforts through the thin sole of the rubber boots. She could hear him snuffling and gagging, drawing breath as he dragged his tongue along the rough sole, licking for all that he was worth.
Jennifer giggled, then started to laugh as she angled her foot just so to give him access to the sides, the toe and heel. Billy kept at it like a machine, moving his head just so to accommodate and better get at his prize; the mud on her boot.
Jennifer looked down and grinned, staring at the pathetic worm groveling on the floor under her foot. He was such a loser, and she could understand why most of the girls at school steered well clear of Billy Harris: Geek. A lot of the kids actually thought that he was gay with the way that he acted and his long hair, but of course Jennifer knew the truth. Still, he liked his kinky shit, so she would not rule out that her step might be Bi. Something to look into, definitely.
She looked down again and saw that he had cleaned her boot fairly well. There were higher splashes that he could not possibly reach, she knew, and she would chastise him later for his lack of effort, but for now…
Jennifer Harris pressed down, laughing as Billy’s head thumped against the floor. He moaned, but she ignored his pain and protest as she removed the semi-clean boot from his face and quickly replaced it with the filthy mirrored image. She leaned in, pressing until her brother started licking again…
Kathy Harris considered herself fairly lucky as she stepped from the back seat of the Livery Cab. She turned the wide collar of her trenchcoat up against the downpour, shivering only slightly as a gust of wind gushed past whipping the tails of her coat away from her nylon covered legs and sending a chill right up her skirt. She grabbed her bag and briefcase from the seat and handed the driver a five before shutting the cab door and hurrying up the sidewalk towards her front door, heels clacking in a strange staccato rhythm with the pouring rain.
She had gotten out of work a bit late, and of course because of that the trip uptown from Wall Street to Grand Central Station on the Subway was sheer hell. The Number 4 Train was packed as usual with dozens of commuters just like her trying to get home and grumbling about the conditions on the train. It was crowded shoulder to shoulder with still more people trying to squeeze through the closing doors. It reeked of the usual smells; garbage and old food, sweat and urine, but in the rain the smell was so intensified that it made everyone foul in return and wanting to gag. And of course it was slow, as the process of more commuters trying to squeeze onto the already dangerously over crowded train was repeated at every station.
At Grand Central it did not get any better. As soon as the doors opened it was a mad rush through the old stone corridors and vaulted ceilings, the commuters like lemmings heading towards their eventual doom as everyone hurried to catch their next train. The Long Island Rail Road platform was simply a bottleneck, the dozens of people turning into hundreds if not thousands, all rushing and pushing to get to their transfer. And Kathy was no better than the rest.
She had had a good day at work and had made several thousand dollars commission on two fairly easy trades in the commodities market. Making money was always good, but easy money was even better, and she had done it all before ten o’clock, making for a fairly stress free afternoon. She had just been packing up to leave for the day – and even better the long weekend as the American Market was closed for Passover on Monday – when the rain started in.
Her umbrella had proved pretty useless in the storm with the wind whipping the rain sideways at times. Like the rest she jumped with every flash of lightning and crack of thunder, finally just folding the umbrella and hurrying along, pushing and shoving with the rest all the way down to the LIRR.
Kathy Harris shook, trying to shed water before boarding the train that would take her to Port Jeff (after a change at Jamaica), then took off her coat and made her way to her usual seat. She settled in with her handbag beside her and her briefcase on the floor between her legs looking forward to a relaxing weekend. And it would be with Billy doing all the housework.
She had to admit that she had been reluctant at first with Jennifer’s suggestion that they make Billy do the chores around the house during his Grounding. That had worked out fine though, so far at least, and had left her free to relax and catch up on some much needed busy work, as well as her sleep. She looked forward to even more over the next three days.
There were some of the things that Jenny had mentioned that she thought were a bit over the top however. Even though she admitted that some of the things that she had seen and read in Billy’s stories and drawings and magazines had been exciting, she still thought that to put Billy through some of those paces was way too wrong. Granted, he was not flesh and blood, but he was still her stepson and that just made some of Jennifer’s ideas off base.
She smiled however as her eyelids started to droop and weigh on her eyes. She could still imagine, and dream…


Kathy woke with a start to feel a hand shaking her awake. She blinked, looking around in confusion, finally realizing that she was still on the train.
“Your stop, Kathy.”
Kathy Harris glanced sideways to look out the window and saw the familiar sights of Port Jefferson rolling slowly by as the train came into the station. Gasping, she realized that she must have slept through the entire two-hour trip after transferring at Jamaica Station.
She looked to her left and saw her good ‘train’ friend and seat buddy, Marilyn Jacobi, smiling widely and nodding at her. “Better hurry, dear.”
“Jesus,” Kathy said, struggling to her feet, realizing that one was asleep as she tried to gather her bags and still damp coat. She shrugged into the trench shivering again at the chill of the wet material as she twisted her foot on the floor. She hissed as the feeling of needles pierced her deadened nerves. “Thanks, Marilyn,” she said as she shouldered her purse and limped past the older woman.
She had been lucky to find a seat next to Marilyn for the ride home. Marilyn Jacobi was pleasant company, and better, she knew when to talk and when not to. She was in her fifties, though you could not tell to look at her. Maybe a bit overweight, but well proportioned none the less. Her graying, black hair was always pulled back into a severe bun that seemed to accentuate a natural, matronly beauty. She reminded Kathy of a school principal in her manner and immaculate dress, but even better Kathy had learned that her friend was a judge. Always nice to have friends in high places.
“See you Tuesday?” Kathy said as she staggered into the aisle even as the train hissed to a stop. There were already about a dozen people clogging the doors and more standing to move that direction.
“Probably,” Marilyn said with a grin and wave. “Enjoy your weekend.”
PING!
Kathy went with the flow, the Port Jeff Commuters trudging from train to (thankfully) covered platform. The rain was still pounding down as the crowd made their way towards the final set of steps and the parking lot beyond.
Kathy was not looking forward to the walk home in the storm and was slipping her umbrella from its pocket in her bag as she stepped towards the stairs. It was only a half a mile or so, and usually she walked when the day was nice, as it had been that morning. The News had said nothing about rain, let alone a late winter storm like this, so she had been caught out. Luckily she always had her pocket umbrella, for all the good it did, and had decided to look the Wall Street part in her trenchcoat that day. She was still wet though, and figured to get even wetter before she made it to her front door.
But luck had been with her as when she stepped from the stairs a black Livery Cab had pulled up right in front of her. Its back door flew open and a man made a mad dash up the steps and literally diving through the closing doors on the train. Kathy barely afforded the man a casual glance as she saw another businessman running down the steps to get the cab. She took a step and slid through the open door, shutting it on the stream of curses coming from the commuter that she had beat for the ride. "Welcome to NYC," she mused as she settled into the seat, telling the driver where to go...
Now she pulled her keys from her purse and unlocked the door, happy that she was not drenched. Happy to be home for the long weekend, to relax and rest. Even happier remembering that Christy would be home for the weekend from NYU, and looking forward to the fun they would have. The four of them…
Kathy smiled, thinking that maybe she would ease up on Billy just a bit for the weekend. Maybe they could have some quality/family time together. Go out to dinner or breakfast maybe, perhaps take in a movie or even go into the City for a Sunday Matinee on Broadway. Her smile grew as she turned the knob, stepping into the foyer of her home…
And the smile just as quickly vanished at the sight that awaited her there.
Her eyes grew huge and she gasped in shock to find her son there waiting for her. It was that sudden jerk, like seeing a mouse out of the corner of your eye, making you jump, and to find Billy right there gave her a similar start. But it was far more than the sudden, unexpected shock of finding him right there:
Her son – her STEPSON she corrected – was on his knees at the far edge of the short entryway. That alone she might have anticipated, as she knew that Jennifer would already be home and probably putting Billy to work in his punishment. More shocking however was the fact that Billy was almost nude.
He was kneeling there in nothing but a pair of panties. Those same flowery panties that he had been wearing that first day, the ones belonging to Jennifer. He had his forehead to the tiled floor with his arms out in front of him, palms down. She saw that in one hand he was gripping a toothbrush and that made her brows furrow in confusion, at least until she saw the bucket of soapy water settled between him and the wall. She snorted, realizing just what Jennifer must have had him doing, then frowned slightly at the cruelty of her daughter.
“Billy,” she finally said, turning away slightly to shut and lock the door behind her. When she turned back she gasped again to find that her stepson had scrambled forward on his hands and knees and was now kneeling down right before her. Involuntarily she took a step back, thumping against the door as her stepson leaned forward, his lips pressing against the toecaps of her black kid leather pumps.
“Welcome home, Mother,” he whispered between kisses, craning his neck to reach her rear foot and back again, alternating between shoes. Kathy blinked, dumbfounded. She tried to speak but nothing came out as she stared down at Billy groveling on the floor in front of her. She heard a thump and realized that she had dropped her briefcase. Then she heard a familiar laugh.
“Hi, Mom,” Jennifer said as she stood poised in the frame of the entryway. She was leaning against the jamb with her arms folded beneath her breasts and ankles crossed. Kathy noticed that she had dressed from her school clothes into a pair of pajama bottoms, a tight pink mid-drift tank top and clean white socks. Her daughter looked clean and fresh too, as though she had taken a hot shower to get the rain away and the chill out of her bones. Something that Kathy much wanted to copy, but first…
“Wha- what the hell is this?” she asked, her voice catching at first. Billy must have heard the irritation in her words as he settled back to his half prostrate state on the floor. As Kathy stared between her son and daughter she noticed that the boy had crimson-turning-to-purple marks poking from the elastic waistband of his skimpy panties. She raised an eyebrow questioningly, finally settling her dagger-like gaze on her smiling daughter.
Jennifer shrugged and stepped away from the wall, into the hallway. She shot a foot forward when she was within reach, kicking Billy in the butt. Kathy saw her son lurch forward a bit and caught the sharp intake of his breath.“Back to work, Bitch,” Jennifer ordered as she stooped to grab Kathy’s fallen briefcase, turning to head back into the Living Room. “You missed some spots,” she giggled, stepping from the hall and out of sight. Kathy gave a final look to her son as he scrambled back to place, his arm churning as he scrubbed the tiles with his soapy toothbrush. Kathy had to bite her lip as she gingerly stepped past, her leg brushing his upturned ass, feeling the heat that it was radiating.
Jennifer was already plopped onto the sofa with her feet propped on the coffee table, her ankles crossed. Kathy saw her briefcase on the floor beside the couch and heard the television; the weatherman talking about the fierce storm that was blowing across Long Island and heading towards the Atlantic. He mentioned snow, and Kathy was glad that she was off for the weekend.
She stared at her grinning daughter as she set her purse aside then slipped out of her long, damp coat. She was taken aback by the sight of Billy on his knees to say the least, and flabbergasted that he had so willingly kissed her shoes to welcome her home. Even after the past couple of days of watching Billy do all the chores, reading more thoroughly some of his stories to get a better grasp of his fantasies, she still found it hard to accept. Harder apparently than her daughter.
First order of business was a trip to the bathroom. She felt disgusting after her ride on the various trains, along with the chill and damp that had soaked her through. Then she wanted a drink. Then, when her nerves were settling she would confront her daughter and get to the bottom of just what was going on now.
She was back in the Living Room with a Scotch in hand within fifteen minutes. A quick look showed Billy had backed up with his knees on the Living Room carpets as he scrubbed at the last foot of entryway. She could feel something stirring within as she watched him, almost mesmerized by the way his butt swayed back and forth while he worked. She had to blink to get out of her trance-like state and took a drink to see Jennifer giggling at her and watching intently.
“Well?” Kathy said, suppressing a smile and trying to look stern as she folded her arms and tapped her foot with mock impatience. She had a very good idea as to what was happening; Billy was being punished for some infraction to his new house rules, obviously. She wanted the details. Jennifer grinned all the wider as she patted the couch beside her.
“Sit down, Mom,” she said, grabbing the TV Remote and lowering the volume, “and I’ll tell you just what happened.”
Billy did not dare quit his cleaning as he listened to the wild story that his sister was spinning to their mother. He knew that if he stopped again that Jennifer would take her slipper to his butt again, dishing him a beating that would be ‘twice as bad’ as the last, just like she promised. So he kept working, grinding his toothbrush into the thin, tiny spaces between the tiles of the hallway, trying desperately to get up every trace of the mud that might remain, and then some. But he listened…
“I found him passed out on the couch when I came home,” his sister began, lying from the first. “I was pissed at that, and it just got worse as I came in soaking wet and saw that he was snug and warm here in the house. He hadn’t done a lick of work that I could see, but if he had it didn’t matter cuz he had just made a total mess of things. There were dirty dishes on the table there and comic books on the floor. Needless to say we didn’t get all of his stash of porn.
“Well I stomped in and right up to his lazy butt. He was still out so I hauled off and slapped him right across the mouth. That woke him up. I pulled him off the couch and hit him again when he started cursing. He apparently forgot that he was being punished, but I reminded him. And how…
“I laid into him, yelling and cursing his lazy ass and told him to get to work. I watched while he started in, then went to change and wouldn’t you know it, he was slacking off again when I came back downstairs. He was sitting on the floor and looking at his comic with his hand down the front of his pants. That was it!
“I slapped the comic out of his hand and shoved him to the floor, ordering him to strip. It took some more slaps, this time with my slipper but he finally started whining and did as I said. When I had him naked I gave him the spanking of his life. And would you believe he shot his load all over the floor?
“That just pissed me off even worse and I laid in again. I lost count of the swats but by the time I was done I was sweatin’ bullets and he was crying like a little girl. That’s when I started calling him Bitch, and believe me, the name fits. After that he was putty. I set him to work on his chores, but noticed that the hall was filthy with rain spots and mud so I got the idea of making him scrub it with his toothbrush. And that’s where he was when you came home.”
Billy was seething at his sister’s story, and from the sounds that his mother was making it sounded as though she was buying into the whole thing. It was not a total pack of lies. Jennifer HAD slapped him and stomped and shoved him. She HAD spanked him, but she had made him lie over her lap when she did it, and indeed he had cum, but that had been at her ministrations as much as his own burning excitement.
He had been thrilled, if not a bit surprised and scared at Jennifer’s cruelty, starting with her slaps to his face. He had loved being on his back, being forced to lick her boots if not the actual disgusting mud. That had been pretty nasty, but he knew that a real slave would do it for his Mistress, and he wanted his fantasy to come as close to reality as he could get it.
When she was finished she had stalked off towards the stairs, but in parting she had ordered him to ‘get naked and wait for her’. He watched from his position on the floor as she stomped up the steps and out of sight, disbelieving what she had just said. He knew that she was pissed though, and he wondered just how far she was willing to go.
Too, he wondered how far he would go as well.
Billy Harris quickly scrambled out of his clothes, folded them into a neat bundle and stuffed them under the sofa out of sight. She had not told him what to do with them, and he did not want to make things worse. He then wondered where, and how best to wait. He wanted both to appease her and himself at the same time, but he was not certain what she expected. He thought about waiting there where she left him, lying on the floor. He thought about waiting at attention, or in the corner like he used to spend time when he was being punished, nose to the wall. In the end he folded his legs under him and bowed down beside the couch, head to the stairs and awaiting Jennifer’s return.
It took her nearly twenty minutes to come back downstairs, and as Billy heard her soft footfalls on the staircase he chanced a glance to look. He saw that she looked clean and refreshed and had changed into a pair of pink lounging pajama bottoms and a short tanktop that showed off her breasts and figure. She had her hair tied in a ponytail with a butterfly clip, and she was wearing a pair of scruffy pink terrycloth slippers on her socked feet. He saw a wicked smirk dance across her lips before he quickly returned his gaze to the carpeting before his face.
“Much better,” she cooed as she stepped right up to him. She stopped with the pink toecaps of her slippers right before his face, side by side. He could see her toes wiggling beneath the thin fabric of the well-worn house slippers that she had had for a couple years at least. In a moment he could smell them as well.
Jennifer had to know how bad they must smell, as she wore the slippers almost every night, most times directly after stripping out of her school clothes, which included her equally well-worn leather sneakers. He knew that Jennifer had a number of pairs of shoes (as he had been in her closet many times practicing his shoe worshipping), but she was not like most girls her age and wanting a different pair for every day of the month. She had several pairs, but she had her favorite shoes that she wore religiously until they were simply too bad to continue wearing in public. Then those stayed in her closet for a time to be worn around the house or in the yard or to the beach in the summer.
The terry slippers were in that category. Her favorite pair, they were scuffed and black on the rubber soles, thin and threadbare on the toes and shining and flat on the insole. Billy knew that his sister’s size seven feet were forever imprinted there in a shadowy black impression. And they smelled…
His sister was clean, almost squeakily so. He knew that she showered every day after cheerleading practice, and most weekends too. But to smell the odor radiating from her slippers Billy knew that anyone would be hard-pressed to believe it. He could smell the stale scents that had soaked into the terrycloth over time; sweat, perfume, foot powder and the lingering traces of leather and rubber and whatever other shoe smells that had lingered on her socks. Individually the odors might have been nice, some perhaps even intoxicatingly so, but blended together as they were the result was something foul and pungent that seemed to seep through the thin material and straight into Billy’s nostrils.
She did not move her feet an inch as Billy started to sniffle, trying to turn away from the smell directly. He did not want to look obvious, but the foul, stale smell was filling his nose and starting to swell in his throat. He could almost taste the disgusting odor and it made his stomach rumble in protest. Finally he was forced to fully turn aside and gasp for air. Big mistake…
“Don’t like that, bitch?” Jennifer asked as her foot slammed down onto the side of his head with enough force that he saw stars and his ear started to ring. He blinked as he tried to focus and saw that his sister had shifted her other foot, pressing fully onto his head for a heartbeat in order to plant her funky slipper right in front of her nose. He squirmed, even as she eased up that foot onto her toes.
“Sniff!” she ordered, and holding him in place he had little choice. He took a tentative sniff, but it was not to her liking as Billy felt his sister’s pressure increase on his head. “Louder, bitch! I wanna hear it.”
Billy did as she said, sniffing loudly and immediately regretting it. The smell of her shoes invaded him, filling his every sense with a horrid, ghastly impression like some oozing slime from a game of Dungeons and Dragons. Before his eyes he could see nothing but fuzzy pink, close enough that he could feel the soft cloth of the ratty shoe. He could hear his sister’s laughter, the slight crack of popping joint as she raised and lowered her foot, fanning the overwhelming smell into his face. And it was just so gross, he could taste it and knew that he would until he was allowed to scrub the scent away with soap and a stiff brush.
“Don’t like that, Billy?” she asked in a singsong voice after a few minutes of his gagging and mewling. “I thought that you wanted this? I thought you wanted to get at my feet and worship the very ground that I walk on. Don’t you want to kiss my pretty slipper?” Jennifer adjusted her stance and pointed the toe of her foot at his face, actually thumping him on the nose and giggling over it.
“You bumped my toe!” she mock scolded. “Kiss it, Billy. Make it better.”
Billy closed his eyes and held his breath as he jutted his jaw and puckered. He winced as his lips touched the weathered cloth, the odor seeming to explode over him on contact and making him gag again. He felt his sister’s foot slam onto his head again.
“That’s the thanks I get?” she shrieked, stomping down again. Billy saw spots of gray dance across his vision as he gasped, trying to stay awake. Bile rose in his throat and it took every bit of his remaining will not to spit it all over his sister’s foot. “I try my best to make your sicko little perv fantasies come true and you whine and gag? Or maybe you don’t like my feet? Is that it?”
Billy tried to shake his head, tried to say that he loved her feet, anything to get her to ease off just for a minute, but he could not move beneath her weight, let alone speak.
“Maybe you don’t like kissing my slipper, hunh?” she mused, rubbing her foot across his face. He could feel the mud from when he had been licking her rain boots flaking away, and of course her simple movement exasperated the stench of her slippers again. “Maybe you want the slipper to kiss you.”
Before he could acknowledge or even react he felt the pressure on his face vanish only to be replaced by a tight grip on his forearm as it was wrenched around behind his back, then abruptly jerked up. “On your feet, bitch,” his sister snapped, tugging. Billy learned then and there just how strong his sister was. He knew that she was in great shape from her cheerleader practices, as well as simply working out every morning with slight weights. Too, through spring and summer she played soccer, and he realized that she would have no trouble hauling him to his feet, or probably beating the shit out of him if she wanted to.
Jennifer was just an inch or so shorter than he was, and easily wrenched his left arm way up behind his back until he was whimpering with the pain and standing up on his toes. She leaned in and he felt her free hand snake between his legs, her fingers first tickling his groin, then grabbing hold and squeezing. He yelped with the shock of pain, struggling to get away until she kept easing the pressure to make him stop. Finally he stood there held tightly in place on tiptoe as he felt the heat of his sister’s breath at his ear.
“Yeah, you like that,” she cooed, twisting his ball sack a bit. He felt her tongue touch the back of his neck and he shivered, making her giggle. Then, just as quickly she let go of his groin and he felt her step away, dragging him stumbling with her.
Jennifer flopped onto the sofa and easily directed him to sprawl over her lap. He hit solidly, and she had braced her leg, driving her knee into his gut and forcing his breath to gush out. He gasped for breath, which was just what she wanted as she yanked harder on his arm, draping him into position so that his head was almost touching the floor, right at her slippered foot. He gagged again as he sucked in the foul smelling air and she laughed.
As he continued to gasp for fresh air he saw his sister’s hand slip down and remove the slipper from her foot that was farthest from his face. The stench doubled as her socked foot was exposed, but the slipper was swiftly up and away and out of sight. His breathing was almost back to normal as Jennifer squirmed about, trying to get into position. He knew what was coming, but when it actually happened, it was still a shock…
SLAP!
He felt the rubber sole of the slipper hit his upturned butt and he lurched forward with the sudden pain that shot through his ass. It hurt like hell, bringing back memories of the times that he had been spanked as a little kid; by hand, hairbrush and flip-flop. This rivaled the worst of those.
SLAP!
He lunged with the second shot, and before he could settle back he was hit a third time.
SLAP!
“I don’t hear you counting, Billy,” Jennifer said as she touched the back of her spanking hand to his butt to feel the already rising heat. “She whistled slightly, then removed her hand – and quickly swatted his ass three hard and fast times.
Billy was already tearing up as the pain started to grow in his butt. Worse, Jennifer had not released his arm and continued to grind down on that as well, and with every swat his shoulder felt as though it would be wrenched out of the socket. He started to squirm and felt her right leg drape over his own kicking legs to pin them down.
SLAP!
SLAP!
“Count, dammit!”
“Two!” Billy screamed as she rained down blows too fast for him to follow. He tried to count along but swiftly became confused as the tears started to freely flow and the pain became almost too much to bear. Bad as it was though, it was exciting him as well and he felt his penis starting to swell.
Jennifer felt it too as it swung and brushed along her thigh. She swatted all the faster, telling him that he better not come, but it was far too late. Billy squealed as his load shot forth, spewing all over the carpeting beneath him, and worse. He closed his eyes and moaned as his sister continued her punishment, holding him fast with her one arm and legs as her free hand slapped down over and over. He was hot and flushed, sweating and gasping for breath when he finally opened his eyes and cringed to see a line of slimy white jism draping the toe of her slipper still on the floor.
Without even realizing it he felt Jennifer’s hand rubbing his burning ass. Her hand was soft, but even her gentle ministrations made him squirm in agony as she gently rubbed, feeling the heat. Abruptly she stopped and gave him a shove and Billy tumbled to the floor at her feet like an old bag of potatoes, totally limp and lifeless. Sniffling, he immediately smelled the stench of her slipper again as it eased towards his head.
“You made a mess, Billy,” she whispered, and glancing up at her breathless voice he could see that she was flushed and obviously as excited as he was. He wondered if she had cum herself. He glanced at her crotch, but her foot quickly obscured his vision. “Lick it up.”
He did…
When she had been satisfied with his efforts, Jennifer had told him to ‘STAY’ and had disappeared back upstairs for a few minutes. He remained kneeling on the floor trying to regain both his breath and some composure. His butt hurt like hell, and he could not ever remember a spanking that had hurt so bad. He had to kneel on all fours with his legs apart and his privates hanging down and away for the most comfort, such as it was.Jennifer finally came bounding back down the stairs and he noticed that she had some items in hand. She held a bucket from the upstairs storage closet, and he could smell the lemony smell of cleanser. She also had in hand the panties that she and his mother had caught him wearing a few days before. She stopped right in front of him, those damn smelly slippers right in front of his face again as she set the bucket to floor beside her.
“You better get the entryway cleaned up before Mom gets home, bitch,” she said. “It’s a filthy, muddy mess. But first,” she paused, letting the flowery panties flutter down to drape across his head, “put those on. I’m never gonna wear them again, so I think you should from now on. When you’re doing your chores, that’s your new uniform, bitch.”
Jennifer smirked and giggled as Billy struggled into the thin panties, doing so while remaining on the floor. Satisfied she then directed his attention to the bucket. “I was nice enough to fill the bucket with soap and water and a brush. Pick it up… in your teeth… and crawl on in there and get to work.”
Jennifer stood over him with her hands on her hips as he struggled to get the handle of the bucket into his mouth, then crawl to the hallway sloshing with every step. He knew that he better not spill a drop, but thankfully he made it, then reached into the warm, soapy water to get the brush. As his fingers wrapped about the skinny thing he sighed.
Billy pulled his toothbrush out of the bucket as his sister flopped onto the couch in a fit of laughter. He glanced back and saw that though she was still snickering, she was ignoring him now as she flipped through the television channels looking for something to watch. He heard Judge Judy berating some poor soul and he started to scrub…
Kathy Harris sat on the sofa watching her stepson scrub the last of the entryway even as her daughter finished the story she was telling. Kathy had no doubt that Jennifer was lying, or at least exaggerating through most of her tale, but she could get the gist of the story none the less:
Jennifer had come home in a foul mood, probably soaked and cold and had taken out her frustrations on her stepbrother. Kathy could see that her daughter had not held back a whit. Billy’s ass was still glowing red at the edges of where she had spanked him and she imagined that beneath the flimsy panties his skin was probably growing a deeper shade of lavender. Too, she could see the traces of mud on her son’s face and the impression and burn of the carpet in his skin. His long hair was a rumpled mess and his whole, almost naked body had bits of fluff and grit sticking to the light peach fuzz hair that covered his legs, arms and chest.
Kathy could not help but notice just how effeminate her stepson looked in the panties. There on his knees with his butt swaying, his long hair dangling down and his slight frame she was hard pressed not to see him as a girl. Hell, with a little make-up…
Kathy shook her head and took another sip of Scotch. She was on her third, this one with a bit of soda to ease the bite, but she was calming and loosening up. She was certain that Billy had not been asleep on the couch when Jennifer had come home, but she was just as sure that he had done something to set her off. She was a little perturbed that her daughter had beat him so severely, but he would heal – and heel – and he WAS being punished.
“I’m done.”
Kathy Harris almost jumped to hear Billy’s soft voice. She looked and saw that he was still kneeling in the doorway, but he had stopped scrubbing. He was waiting for approval like a good little slave, and even as she moved to go and inspect his work she saw Jennifer leap to her feet and run forward.
Jennifer stood over her brother as she peered into the hallway, apparently giving it a good scrutiny. Kathy could not help but notice the way that Billy cringed when she stepped close and she wondered just what her daughter had really done to him before she had got home. Finally Jennifer stepped back and smiled at her.
“It’s all good,” she said, and Kathy saw her daughter kick Billy lightly in the ribs, directing him to turn around. Billy did, looking sad and pathetic when he finally looked his mother in the eye for just a split second. He swiftly returned his gaze to the floor. She could see that he was embarrassed. She saw too that he had been crying, probably from the spanking. His face was still filthy. “Puppy did a good job,” Jennifer continued in a high, light voice, like she was talking to a baby or a dog. Kathy saw her daughter kicking poor Billy between the legs lightly, spurring him to move.
“Go thank your Mommy Mistress, bitch.”
Billy groaned but started forward, crawling on hands and knees just like a baby, or a dog. She registered just as Billy got to her that Jennifer had been referring to him as Bitch, and just then, Puppy, and it seemed to fit. Billy eased right up to her, coming around the coffee table and kneeling before her. She had not bothered to change clothes after visiting the bathroom, too interested in what was happening and had come right back to the Living Room still wearing her business suit; a gray jacket and skirt, black tee and dark, smoky pantyhose with her low leather heels. She held her glass of Scotch in hand as she looked down at Billy, he almost groveling as she kicked her foot, right leg crossed over the left.
“Thank you, Mommy,” he whispered and leaned down to kiss the top of her pump.
Kathy felt a jolt run through her body as she shivered. She almost dropped her glass as she felt her stepson’s lips press to the leather of her shoe. She could feel his efforts right through the leather, and could hear him as he kissed, making exaggerated ‘smooching’ sounds. Too, he was breathing deeply, his face pressed close and hard on the top of her foot.
“Jesus,” she whispered, feeling the rush of her blood and the flush heating her face, making her skin tingle. It was exciting to have him there at her feet, stepson or not, and she wanted more. Kathy raised the toe of her shoe on the floor even as she thumped down with the foot that was dangling, forcing Billy to continue. “Keep kissing,” she said, shivering with excitement as she did. It was such a rush to have him there at her feet, kissing her shoes…
“Lick!” she ordered, and he did. Then after awhile…
“Sniff!” and he did that too. All the while Jennifer was standing there watching, enjoying the scene as she sank deeper and deeper into sin. Kathy was not religious, but she could not imagine what level of Hell she would be condemned to for this. She moaned as Billy’s tongue brushed the nylon mesh of her ankle and felt a dampness between her legs. It was too much…
“Stop!” she shouted hoarsely, the sole of her shoe shoving him on top of the head, forcing him back. She was flushed and hot and breathing hard, and she heard Jennifer laughing as she waved her hand about, fanning herself.
“Intoxicating, isn’t it?” Jennifer said with a knowing giggle. Kathy nodded, afraid of the noises that her voice might make if she spoke, she was so worked up and embarrassed. “Wait. It gets better. Take off Mom’s shoes, Bitch!”
Billy automatically reached up and grabbed the heel of her shoe from the dangling foot. With a gentle pressure he eased the shoe off. She heard the soft ‘shuff’ as the leather slid away from the nylon, and a second later screwed up her face at the stench that wafted up and assaulted her nose. She could not imagine how Billy could stand it right there in his face as she flexed her toes.
“Sniff the shoe!” Jennifer ordered, and with only the slightest hesitation, Kathy saw her son bury his face into the confines of her kid leather pump. She had been wearing the things all day, and she loved those shoes enough that she wore them a few times a week. She had had them almost a year now, and they were showing wear and tear, but she could not even imagine just how badly they must smell to Billy with his face buried in the insole if she could smell the shoe from a few feet away.
He did not seem to care as he sniffed. He was breathing deeply, over and over, seemingly loving the horrible stench. She glanced at his penis and saw that he was getting harder and harder with every breath. It was so bizarre to her that he was enjoying this; the abuse and humiliation, getting off on the smell of her old pump, but he was.
“Lick it!” Jennifer commanded, and Billy lavished his tongue all over the soft, worn leather. He licked the sole with a relish, then just as lovingly directed his tongue to the insole and the rougher insides of the shoe. Kathy stared in awe as he went to town, oblivious of them as though he were hypnotized by the act of what he was doing; licking her shoe clean.
“Stop! Kiss Mom’s foot!”
Gingerly Billy set the shoe to the floor beside the sofa and lowered his head until he was kissing her dangling foot. He started with a peck on her big toe, then got bolder as he kissed across the top, then along the sides, up the arch and across the top again, working down the other side towards the heel.
“I can’t hear you,” Jennifer said, kicking him casually in the butt and Billy started exaggerating the kissing and sniffing noises. His lips were pressing and brushing, and occasionally she could feel his tongue dragging along the slick nylon. “Play with him, Mom,” Jennifer urged.
Kathy Harris bit her lip again as she cocked her shoeless foot at the ankle allowing her son to lick and kiss the wrinkled sole of her foot. He did without hesitation, and just as spontaneously she shoved her foot forward, pressing her foot into his face. She felt his nose scrunch under the pressure and heard his sudden intake of breath. After a heartbeat though, he continued to lick even harder than before.
“God, it must smell horrible,” she admitted. She could only imagine the smell of her feet; powder, perfume and leather all mingling with the sweat of being on the Market Floor all day long. Her feet must smell horribly, but Billy did not seem to care and actually leaned all the closer as she complained.
“He loves this, Mom,” Jennifer said as she plopped down onto the sofa, extending her legs to cross at the ankles on the coffee table. “Kick off your other shoe and let’s make him service our feet.”
Kathy Harris did, actually hooking the heel of her shoe on the back of her stepson’s head and popping it off. Her pump fell to the floor, but before Billy could react she was tapping him on the nose, then putting her feet on the table like her daughter.
“Lick our feet… BITCH!” she commanded. She giggled as he winced, squatting on his sore ass then shifting to crawl to the far side of the table. He stared for a moment at the four feet before him; Jennifer’s clad in white socks, her own in smoky gray nylon, all twisting and flexing toes before his face. He whimpered and leaned in, kissing and licking…


Billy Harris lost all track of time as he licked and kissed the sexy, smelly feet of his mother and sister. Not in his wildest imaginings could he make this a reality, his fantasies come true, but they had.
This was what he wanted all these years, ever since he first got hard and came at night, dreaming of some woman making him pay homage to her sexy feet and boots. None of his stories or pictures even held a candle to reality. He was in Heaven…
He eased forward on hands and knees, shifting his attention between his mother’s feet and his sister’s. Jennifer’s feet stank, despite that she had showered. Her slippers had fouled her socks and the reek remained. He gagged, kissing and sniffing as much as he could before shifting to his mother. Her feet stank too, but it was a different stench. He loved the lingering odors of leather mingling with perfume. It was so intoxicating that it made his head swim, his vision blurring as he swayed in nirvana. It could not get better…
Then the doorbell rang…
His mother freaked, actually crying out as she pulled her feet back and away. “Oh, GOD! Who’s that? The cops!”
Jennifer laughed. “Mom, chill,” she said, pulling her feet back and glancing at the clock on the wall over the television. It was not late, and Jennifer did not seem perturbed in the least. The doorbell rang again…
“Get the door, bitch,” Jennifer commanded, shoving her foot into Billy’s face to get him moving. He shivered, feeling the dread and humiliation. He had no idea who might be at the door, but Jennifer did not seem concerned. She did not care how embarrassed he might become. Billy started to turn away and get to his feet when Jennifer stopped him.
“Hold it,” she said and he paused, turning back to her. He watched as she reached down and picked up one of her smelly slippers and held it out before him.
“Open,” she said, and he did. Jennifer slid the slipper into his mouth, then flicked her fingers on his nose. “Close, and get the door.”
Billy scampered off on hands and knees, gagging on the stench and taste of the old slipper and feeling like the family dog as he entered the hallway. He could sense the eyes of his stepsister and stepmother on him as he stopped before the door, hearing the bell again. They did not give him permission to stand, so he reached up finally and unlocked the locks, then turned the knob and opened the door, cringing and blushing as he stared at the floor.
“Billy?”
Billy Harris heard a short gasp following his whispered name and he chanced a glance out through the screen door. It was snowing he saw, flakes of white swirling beyond the glass and wire mesh of the door. He could feel the chill of late winter easing into the house as he focused on the shapely silhouette that stood framed in the doorway, backlit by the amber glow of the porch light. An all too familiar silhouette to match the timid voice that he recognized as well.
It was Christy, his other sister gone off to college in the City but come home for the holiday weekend.
He thumped his head against the floor in defeat as she started to giggle, then to laugh. Long and loud…
He was done.
Billy Harris woke again as he started to choke and gasp for air.
He was on the floor at the foot of his own bed where his family had left him for the night. His sisters had tied him hand and foot, Jennifer assuring Christy that he liked the treatment, craved it actually. Christy had been easy to convince after the evening’s activities…
His sister Christy had laughed to see him on his knees in the hallway before the door, wearing nothing but a pair of Jennifer’s frilly and feminine panties and biting down on one of her old and ratty slippers. Tears were streaming down her face when she finally pulled open the screen door and stepped into the entryway even as Billy shuffled backwards on all fours. She shut the door behind her, locking it but never taking her eyes off of him, even as he looked up to her imploringly.
Christy was wearing a long dark woolen coat against the sudden cold and snow. It was belted tightly at her waist and showed her trim figure nicely, despite its bulk. She wore a dark knit cap over her shoulder length dirty blond hair and held a bulky black bag slung over her shoulder. Billy took in her appearance, actually glad to see her as it had been several months before his gaze drifted down past her denim clad legs to settle on the dark blue suede Ugg Boots on her feet.
Like Jennifer, Christy was hot, but of course taboo. They were his stepsisters, and he knew that it was wrong to think of them sexually, but he could not help the feelings that stirred when he looked at both of them – and his mother. That was why they were in his stories and drawings. They were beautiful to him, all three of them, and readily available to be the subject of his dreams and fantasies.
“MY god,” Christy said, dropping her shoulder bag to the floor beside her and stepping right up to tower over Billy. He quickly lowered his gaze and saw that her boots were covered with sparkling droplets of water, faint traces of snow lingering at the edges of her soles. Christy crouched down and placed a hand on his head. “Jenn said that she had a surprise, but this is way too wild.” She ruffled his hair and stood, then strode past him as though he was not even there.
Billy had listened as Christy, Jennifer and their mother exchanged ‘hellos’ and swapped stories of college, high school and work respectively. They chatted, leaving him kneeling there in the hallway for he didn’t know how long, but when they finally called him his knees were aching and his mouth was dry, his spit soaked into the foul slipper of his sister.
“Come here, Billy,” his mother finally called and Billy turned about in the hall. He saw the three of them sitting side by side on the sofa, his sister on either side of his mother, all three with their feet propped up on the coffee table. “And bring your sister’s bag.”
Billy grabbed the shoulder strap of his eldest sister’s bag and dragged it along as he crawled back into the Living Room. He could feel himself getting hard as he looked at the three women waiting for him, all smiling at his approach. He said nothing, still gripping the slipper in his mouth, and laid Christy’s bag within easy reach beside the table.
“Wow, he’s hard as a rock,” Christy commented as she hoisted her bag into her lap and started to dig through it.
“I told ya,” Jennifer responded, stretching her leg and poking her brother in the nose with her sock clad big toe, laughing as Billy wrinkled his nose at the smell. “You remember his stories an’ pictures. He loves this stuff.” She shoved, forcing Billy to squat on his haunches. Billy looked to his mother for help, or at least support and saw that she was grinning widely, a glass of liquor in hand.A flash of light brought his attention back to his sisters and he saw Christy with her Cell Phone in hand as the flash went off again. She laughed as Billy hung his head to hide his face, snapping another.
“Too late, Bro,” she chided. “I got’cha. The girls back at the Dorm aren’t even gonna believe this.”
They all laughed as Billy turned red in embarrassment. He could imagine the college girls, friends of his sister looking at the pictures that she had taken and laughing as well. His mind wandered, thinking of being stolen away to the college dorm in the City and being turned into the Foot Slave of his sister and her friends.
Billy groaned as Christy’s thick boot thumped him in the side of his head.
“Wake up, Bro,” she said and he saw the stern look on her face as she stared him down. “I told you to take off my boots, but now maybe you better kiss ‘em first.”
“Make him lick ‘em,” he heard his mother say. Her words were slurred slightly, and he knew that she was getting drunk. “He likes that.”
“You heard Mom,” Christy said with a sly smile. “Lick my boots… slave.”
Billy looked to Jennifer and her nod before he deposited the ratty slipper in his mouth to the floor then eased forward towards his other sister’s booted feet. He could smell the odor of damp leather as he eased forward, the suede of the stylish boots dark from the snow. He saw there was a puddle on the tabletop as he inched closer, extending his tongue. He reached out, touching the ridged rubber of the closest sole.
His penis swelled as he ran his tongue over his sister’s boots, shifting his weight as he shifted attention from one foot to the other. He closed his eyes as he worked – slaved before the three women in his life that meant the most to him, the world to him. They chatted as he licked, breathing in the wet leather smell and the lingering traces of his sister’s perfume the higher he went along her trim legs. They ignored him, catching up on the last few months since Christy had been home; Jennifer's triumphs and victories at school and Kathy’s conquests on Wall Street. For her part, Christy relayed life in the dorms and in the Big City. She was having a wonderful time, she said, but it was nice to be home with the people she loved – or not.
“Take off my boots now.”
Billy reached up and grasped his sister’s Ugg boot on the sides of her foot and slowly started to ease the leather boot off. It took some wiggling, but finally the shoe part slid past her heel and the leg sloughed off with a ‘shush’. He immediately smelled the odor of her foot mingling with the leather and her own sweat, the mildewy stench of dampness and flowery foot powder. Billy gagged, turning away.
“Bitch!”
Billy sprawled as Christy’s still booted right foot slammed into the side of his face. He saw stars as he toppled backwards, still clutching the boot that he had removed to his chest. He shook his head and groaned as something pressed down on his crotch. The pressure increased as he looked up, his groans turning to whimpers. He saw his sister’s foot between his legs, and she towering over him.
“Don’t like my foot smell, Bro?” she asked, grinning as she pressed the sole of her boot into his groin. He squirmed and whined, heard himself begging her to stop. She did not. “Well, better learn to like it, cuz you’re gonna be enjoying it for awhile.”
Billy cried out as the pressure between his legs increased a thousandfold as his sister stepped right onto his groin with all her weight on her left foot and planted her right on his face. Billy’s eyes went wide as he stared through teary eyes around the wiggling toes of his sister’s socked foot, up her denim-clad leg and past her round breasts to see her leering face. The stench was overwhelming, and beyond any of the descriptions that he had ever read; corn chips, popcorn, tuna fish. There was nothing to compare to the dampness of the sole of her foot on his lips and nose, the reek that was making him gag, his eyes water. She shoved the ball of her foot forward.
“Lick, Billy,” she gloated, grinding down and sending the smell wafting about his face. “Show your sister some love.” To make it stop – for breath, he licked for all that he was worth.

Christy Harris looked down, watching as her brother licked at the bottoms of her stinky socks. They were filthy she knew, as she had been wearing them since yesterday, not only as she walked about the city and went to classes, but also last night to sleep and today again all day and on the train. Trapped in her old Ugg Boots, she knew that her feet must really be ripe and pungent, but she did not care. She knew that Billy loved it that way, and she had been tending her feet for the past two days just for him.
She had been beside herself when Jennifer had called just a couple days ago. Jenn had said that Billy had finally fucked up and their mother had caught him; bound and gagged on his bed no less, and in panties to boot. Christy had almost died laughing. She could imagine their mother and her reaction.
She had sobered for a moment on that, knowing that their mother would have went straight to the bottle. Luckily Jenn had come home and steered things in the right direction. Not that the two sisters had been planning on enslaving their little stepbrother, but since the opportunity had presented itself…
They had both known what a queer little perv Billy really was for years. Nether of them had wanted to make waves though, so they watched him on their own and enjoyed their little digs whenever they could get them. Jennifer had caught Billy masturbating once, and Christy recalled the time that she had walked into the room that she had shared with her sister since they were little and found Billy kneeling in the closet inspecting their shoes. She had watched from the door, holding her breath as he had picked his way through the pairs of both girls, sniffing some and kissing others, licking and rubbing them along his face. It had been a crazy revelation, but one that she had never forgotten, and one that had made her see her brother for what he really was, or at least what he could potentially be.
Christy had been almost giddy with anticipation since she had spoken with Jennifer on the phone, and she could not wait for the long weekend and a chance to get home again and to play with their new toy. The family’s new house pet, her little brother Billy…


Billy eased back down onto the door mat that Jennifer had laid on the floor for him to sleep on, letting the tension out of the mesh leash that held him fast to the leg of his bed, locked to the D-Ring of the dog collar that his mother had fastened about his neck. After a moment or two he was starting to breathe regularly again. He settled as best as he could with his arms tied back behind at the wrists and elbows and his legs tied at the ankles and knees. He was glad that they had not hog-tied him, as he would have probably asphyxiated by now in his sleep. As it was, breathing was almost impossible with Jennifer’s nasty, ratty slipper shoved toe first into his mouth and taped in place with several turns of duct tape about his head.
He blinked as he tried to focus, waiting for his labored breathing to calm all the way, knowing that there would be no more sleep until it did. He stared at the things that made up his room; his desk and computer, bookshelves filled with books and old plastic models of star ships and Hollywood monsters. He stared at his bed right above him and saw his sister’s pretty foot hanging out over the edge, uncovered and soft, pale and shapely in the dim moonlight seeping through the window blinds…
Christy had finally stepped off of him accompanied by the cheers and applause of the rest of his family. Christy gave a mock bow, then laughing stepped back so that one foot was on either side of his head. He smelled the damp again, and the fetid odor of her dingy socks too. He stared up at his haughty older sister as she chuckled and stepped up. She hooked the heel of her boot on his head and started to pull, trying to work it off of her foot.
It hurt, and he moaned. Her foot slipped off several times and the sole of his sister’s boot raked along his face, burning and probably causing welts he imagined. It took several tries and as many minutes, but at last he heard that ‘shuff’ again as her heel slid from the confines of the soft leather, and the Ugg Boot finally fell away. Christy laughed as he wrinkled his face, holding his breath as she kicked the boots’ opening towards his face.
“Stick your nose in, Bro, an’ drink up!” she laughed, giving the boot a nudge until it slipped over his mouth and nose. She laughed all the harder to see him pale and to hear him gagging again…
They kept him that way for awhile, letting him breathe deeply the heavenly scent of his sister’s boot. Every breath brought him close to passing out, the smell was so thick and heady, intoxicating. The odors were almost solid, assaulting his senses of taste and smell to such a degree that he was becoming lightheaded. Still, he remained hard throughout, a fact that none of his family missed.
“You see, Mom,” Jennifer said, popping the top on a beer can. Billy could tell that their mother was well on the way to drunk, buzzed at least, and the inhibitions were being tossed aside, thus Jennifer with a beer. “I told you he loves this stuff. He’ll do whatever we say as long as we treat him like a dog, letting him lick our feet an’ shit.”
“You were right,” Kathy Harris agreed, nodding lazily. “I never would have imagined. It’s just so strange.”
“But nice, Mom,” Christy added, sipping at her own beer as she stared down at Billy, watching him breathe deeply in her boot. With a wicked grin she leaned forward. “Massage Mom’s feet now, slave.”
Billy nodded and set the boot aside, then scrambled to his knees. He rested his butt on his heels as he reached forward and gripped his mother’s nylon clad foot and began kneading the ball with both hands. His fingers probed, moving against the toes and down the arch until his knuckles were rolling against her heel. With every stroke of his hand he could smell the sweet scents of her feet escaping; the powders and perfumes mixed with the leather of her pumps and her own sweat. Billy was nearly reeling as he leaned in for a long, lingering sniff.
“Mmmmnnn…” he heard his mother moan in pleasure. “That feels SO good. It’s sinful.”
“At least,” Jennifer giggled, stretching to plant her own sock clad foot on her brother’s face, pressing her toes to his lips until he started to kiss. “But we deserve it. And if he wants to do it, all the better.”
“Too bad it’s not full time,” Christy said, easing her foot along the smooth top of the table and scratching at her brother’s arm with her toes, “or permanent.”
“Yeah,” Jennifer sneered. “We could keep Billy in panties 24/7 and at our beck and call. We could hog-tie his ass up in the basement every night, or tie him up to the tree in the back yard.”
“Hell, even better,” Christy sniggered as Billy leaned to lick at her foot and she jabbed him in the nose. “We could just tie him to the foot of the bed and make him lick our feet all night.”
“Mmmmnnn…” Kathy moaned as Billy massaged all the harder. “He needs to sleep sometime, girls.”
“I suppose,” Jennifer said in agreement, shoving the heel of her foot at his ear as he turned towards Christy. “It would be fun though. Not like he’d be missed. He doesn’t have any friends to speak of, and the only one that comes around has a crush on me.” Jennifer laughed. “Hell, his buddy Steve would probably be on our side if I gave him a tease.” The three women laughed at the thought, Billy’s best and only friend adding to his humiliation and slavery.
“We could though,” Kathy said after the laughter died down a bit. She smiled Billy saw as her two daughters looked at her curiously. He watched as his mother emptied her glass of Scotch and then sat up straight, pulling her feet from his grasp. Billy looked from one to the other until Jennifer slid her feet forward to fill the void.
“What do you mean, Mom,” she asked, settling in as Billy started to rub her feet. Christy was interested too as she shifted sideways and extended her leg draping her right ankle on the back of Billy’s neck. Billy looked to his mother and saw her staring at him, her dark eyes sparkling as she chewed her lower lip.
“I have a friend that might be willing to sign some papers for a piece of this. She’s a widow, and a judge, and a friend. Like you said, no one would really miss Billy. He has no friends. His grades are average at best, and at times his teachers have thought him a little slow.”
“Really?” Christy asked and Kathy nodded.
“I never said anything, but yeah. Your brother works hard but he’s almost been left back twice now. I don’t think that anyone would complain if I pulled him out of Public School for a bit of Home Schooling and private tutoring.”
“And your judge friend would do that?”
“I think so,” Kathy said to Jennifer. “For a bit of this, I think she would.” Billy’s mother shoved her smelly foot in his face and twisted it about, pinching his nose between her toes.
“Cool,” Jennifer said, then started to giggle. One by one the other two women joined in, each thinking their own thoughts and imagining Billy at their whim…
He had massaged their feet for the rest of the night, one by one or all at once, trying his best to meet their needs. After a few hours, their mother had finally begged off for sleep and had told the girls that they should go to bed as well. Disappointed, they eventually agreed and led their brother up the stairs to his room; Christy tugging on the collar and leash of the dog they had had when they were little that Kathy had attached to Billy’s neck, and Jennifer slapping his ass up the stairs with her slipper.
They had led him into his own room, and Billy saw that they had laid the back door mat on the floor at the foot of his bed. He was confused for a moment until Jennifer steered him onto the mat with a few well-placed blows and told him to lie there.
While their mother watched, Christy attached the end of the leash to the leg of Billy’s bed, looping the clasp through the handle around the bed’s leg and frame. Then she joined her sister and the two of them forced him down to the dirty, rough bristled mat and tied him up, teasing and taunting him and getting him hot and hard all the while.
They bound his elbows and wrists, knees and ankles with a few cut lengths of white nylon cord, and finally Jennifer held his head in hand and shoved the toe of her ratty slipper deeply into his mouth. Billy was gagging as Christy swiftly wrapped something about his face and head to hold the foul slipper in place. Immediately Billy noticed the air going sour with the stench of old sweat and nasty feet. He realized as Christy knotted off the strong binding tightly, that it must be one of his mother’s soiled and well-worn nylons or pantyhose. His gag reflex intensified as he was forced to breathe in the mucky, musty odor. Jennifer and Christy laughed at his antics. When they finished and stepped up and away, he struggled fiercely, but found that they had done their work well.
No way he was going to escape. The knots were just out of reach, doubled and twisted and doubled back again. The gag was tightly bound and out of reach as well, shoving the slipper way to the back of his throat. The leash was locked tight and no way he could get leverage to free the handle from his bound position on the floor beside the bed. He tried, but to no avail and eventually admitted defeat flushed and breathing hard through his nose. With some effort he rolled onto his side and stared up at his family, his kidnappers.
Jennifer snorted, “He can’t get away.”
“Good,” his mother had said, leaning down and grinning with her hands on her knees. “Now you be a good puppy, Billy. You get your sleep cuz we got a loooonnnggg weekend ahead with all kinds of fun planned.” Billy moaned into his gag, staring at the pink in his mother’s eyes, realizing that they probably matched his own from crying. Whatever inhibitions his mother might have had, they had faded away with the alcohol and the boldness of his sisters.
“Not to mention the rest of your life, bitch.” Jennifer snapped her foot forward; her toes slamming into Billy’s stomach and making him lurch with the impact. He winced and moaned at the sharp stab of pain.
They all laughed at Jennifer’s parting joke, then she and their mother left, saying good night. Christy stood over him for a moment, smiling down on him. Her thoughts seemed a million miles away, and Billy shuddered, suddenly a little afraid. This was for real - Forever…
“Your stories used to get me so hot, Bro,” she said suddenly, her foot probing between his legs while she licked her lips. Billy whimpered to feel the pain as she pressed on his hard-on and balls. “I used to dream of you and other guys at school being my slave, licking my feet.” She sighed, and her eyes seemed to slowly focus on him again.
“And now, here you are.”
Christy laughed as she slammed her heel into his groin. Billy screamed in agony into his gag as his sister simply stepped over him and disappeared into the adjoining bathroom. He was wailing and crying, but he heard the shower start, then the sink and the toilet flush later, and finally as he was starting to feel normal again, she came padding back into his room, fresh and clean and dressed in shorts and an over-sized NYU football jersey for sleeping.
She stepped right across him again and stood at the bed, looking down at him with a wicked grin as she turned down the sheets. She gave him an air kiss before sitting on the bed, then made a show of swinging her long legs up and out of sight before fluffing out the covers. Billy watched as her hand snaked out and clicked off the table lamp beside the bed.
“Nightie-Night, slave boy.”
He heard his sister giggle at her little comment, then before too long he heard her breathing slow and even out as she finally fell asleep…


And now he lay there on his floor mat, bound and gagged and smelling one sister’s ratty slipper as he stared at the bare foot of the other sister, hanging casually out of his bed. Christy was sleeping blissfully, no doubt dreaming of him slaving away at her feet.
And Billy Harris lay wide-awake, wondering.
He was a slave, bound and gagged and servicing the feet and shoes of his mother and sisters. When he was not gagged. Of course…
He had wanted this, and now he had it. His mother had hinted that it could become permanent, and he should be happy as hell. Hell, he should be struggling to get on his knees now and licking his sister’s exposed foot. The leash would reach, and he was not so weak and pathetic that he could not maneuver into position. But…
But…
It hurt when Christy had smashed down on his balls. Really hurt.
He had always thought that it would be a good pain; beaten and kicked and whipped, but…
God, it still hurt!
This was not what he had thought, not altogether. Not what he had expected. It was supposed to be fun and exciting and sexy. And it was to a point. But it hurt too. And he had three more days of this coming at least. Followed by a lifetime if his mother was serious and not just brave from inebriation.
Billy leaned back and stared at his sister’s foot until she finally mumbled in her sleep and rolled over, pulling her leg back under the covers. It was late, and now there was nothing left.
He wanted to sleep. He wanted to cry but found he could do neither…
Billy Harris woke with a start, blinking and gasping for breath.
His eyes went wide in panic as he tried to suck air through his mouth only to remember that it was all but sealed shut, his sister’s dirty slipper shoved into his mouth and folded over his nose to be held tightly in place by a nylon wrapped about his head and face. He tried to breathe through his nose but sniffed and snuffled, his nasal cavities clogged with snot from the chilly night he had spent…
On the floor of his own bedroom!
It came back to him in fits and flashes as he labored to draw breath. Getting caught in self-bondage by his mother and sister, then being grounded and slowly used and abused. They turned him into their servile drudge, and finally their foot licking and shoe sniffing slave. The past week had culminated when his other sister had come home for a visit over the long three-day weekend, and now he woke up almost naked but for a soiled pair of his sister’s panties, bound, gagged and leashed on the floor of his bedroom.“Mmmmnnnff!” Billy yelled into his gag, the cry muffled as what little air was in his lungs gushed out, snot spewing from his nose as something soft and icy cold pressed into his stiff, bare nipple. His eyes went even wider as he tried to twist away from the cold, something twisting about his nipple and pinching.
“Yuck!”
Billy looked up to see his sister Christy sitting on the edge of his bed looking down at him with a twist of disgust turning her lips and wrinkling her nose. She looked a little disheveled from her good night’s sleep, no doubt filled with pleasant dreams. She still had a bit of sleep in her dreamy gray eyes, her dish water blonde hair in disarray as it hung wild and loose about her shoulders. Her over-sized jersey hung low to reveal a shoulder and alabaster skin contrasting her long, slightly tanned legs. Billy stared at her legs, dangling over the bed’s edge, following their length to find her bare foot pressing on his chest, her toes wrapping about his nipple and playfully pinching. They were frigid as she rubbed her soft soles across his bare skin, giggling slightly as his soft chest hairs tickled her.
“You nasty little boy,” she said with a cruel smirk as her other foot snaked across his skin to rest on his throat. She applied the slightest pressure, grinning all the more as Billy started to gasp for breath again. “You always were a snot.”
Christy laughed as she dragged her bare foot over Billy’s face, around his slipper gag. The smelly shoe and nylon caught most of the mucous, but some had spurted free, and Billy felt Christy’s foot as it drifted about, dabbing up the excess, which she then smeared into his hair. “Gonna have to hose you down, dirty dog,” she mused, pressing all the harder. Then suddenly she stood, slamming his head to the floor as her other foot slid across his chest, her heel leaving an ‘Indian’ burn.
“Ladies first though, Bro.”
Christy stepped off towards the bathroom leaving Billy to gasp for breath and watch her ass swaying until she disappeared behind the locked door. He heard the sink’s water start to gush and the radio came on, music blaring.
Billy breathed deeply, calming and settling down again from his panic. The smells of his gag were still present, but he was so used to the stale foulness that it was now a lingering thing that only occasionally rose to the surface of his senses. He was more apparent of the chill making his body shiver slightly from lying on the cold floor all night long. The mat that his family had laid out for him was no comfort against the hardwood floor that made his bones and joints ache, and that all the worse from being bound hand and foot. In fact his bare skin itched from the scratchy bristles of the filthy mat that until last night had sat on the porch at the back door of the house. He could feel the scratches and probably an irritated rash that had developed from the long, restless night that he had spent leashed to the leg of the bed on the floor. It had been a miserable experience, and not at all what he had once envisioned in his fantasies.
But as he rolled to the side to ease an ache he swiftly realized that he was sporting a raging hard-on. The cruel ministrations of his family the night before and then his sister this morning had excited him to the brink again. Add to that of course that he had not taken a leak for the better part of fifteen hours at least, the mere thought made his groin cramp with pain. He needed release as he had a masterful case of ‘Blue Balls’, but far more appealing was the hope of a relaxing, ten minute morning pee.
Billy was writhing about on the floor mat when his sister finally emerged from the bathroom. She looked clean and refreshed again with her hair brushed into reasonable place and her cheeks glowing from a good wash. She was smiling widely, happy to see Billy squirming on the floor apparently at her return and for her pleasure.
She stepped right up to him, planting her bare feet just at his face, her pretty toes wriggling as she leaned forward with her hands on her knees to inspect him. Billy stared at the glistening pink of her toenails, his trance broken only by her light, mocking voice.
“Little Billy’s got a baby carrot between his legs,” she jeered, sniggering. Billy clenched his eyelids closed at her demeaning ridicule. He should have expected it eventually. Most of the stories that he had read on the Internet eventually led to the victim’s derision, the women insulting his manhood. Hell, his family had already forced him to do the ‘women’s work’ around the house and dressed him in a pair of his sister’s frilly, flowery panties. What next?
“Puppy got a boner for his big sister?” Christy asked, her foot easing forward so that her toes could poke at his erection. “Not much of a bone,” she chided. “I’ve squished bigger worms.”
Billy whined as Christy pressed harder, then the whine turned to a whimper as he felt a sudden warm wetness flowing into his panties. His erection jerked slightly, but his urine suppressed his excitement as the pee that he had been holding came drizzling out, soaking the panties and leaking about his groin, legs and into the door mat.
Christy yelped in surprise, quickly pulling her foot away and shuffling back a few steps. She watched Billy in fascination as he turned his face to the floor and closed his eyes again in embarrassment. He was unable to stop the flow and felt a puddle forming, seeping into the doormat and finally spreading onto the hardwood floor. He started to sob as after almost a full minute it finally slowed to a warm trickle.
He heard his sister laughing at first, which made his skin heat up and glow crimson, but eventually the laughter died away. “You pig,” she sneered and when he opened his eyes again he saw her stride past to his computer desk. She stood there looking sexy for a moment, one hand on cocked hip as the other rummaged through the organized mess that perpetually cluttered his desktop. Finally though she plucked up something, and when she turned with a wicked grin he saw that she was holding a stiff, plastic ruler.
“Pig-boy’s gotta be punished,” she said sauntering towards him again. She slapped the ruler across the palm of her left hand, wincing slightly as Billy shivered at the harsh sound. Still grinning though, Christy stepped right up to Billy’s prone body and situated her feet on either side of him. She squatted slightly and got a grip on his hips with her cold hands, then heaved, raising him to his knees. Once satisfied that he was in the position that she wanted, Christy leaned in and released the knots from the nylon gag. She deftly unwound the loops of the hose, tossing that onto the bed and finally plucked the damp, spit-soaked slipper from his mouth.
Billy’s jaws ached from the long forced position, being spread around the slipper all night long. The back of his throat felt scratchy from where the toe had rubbed and his nose ached too from the insole flattening it throughout the night. Still, despite the aches and pains, the relief of breathing freely overwhelmed Billy and he gasped for fresh air. Then his sister shoved him forward…
He felt Christy’s hand on the back of his head, forcing his face down into the puddle of urine on the floor. It smelled, strong and acrid and he tried to turn away but Christy pushed all the more. “Unh-uh,” she said, forcing him face first to the floor. “You’re gonna clean up that mess, piggy, and I’m gonna beat your ass until it’s all gone.”
She stood slightly behind him, angling just so. He could see her long left leg in his peripheral vision, her small, sexy foot easing up a bit as she drew her arm back…
SWAT!
Billy lurched forward, shocked and surprised with the force of the blow. The plastic ruler bit into the thick, padded flesh of his butt, striking flatly but firm. His face slid through the unclean puddle, his cheek smearing with his own refuse. Oddly he did not feel the pain until the second blow.
SWAT!
“I don’t see you licking, piggy,” his sister said, striking him again. The pain was slow in coming, but now sharp and burning, each blow adding to the sting and making his already sore ass hurt all the more. He had already received a slipper spanking from Jennifer the day before and he was sure that his butt was black and blue from the dull, constant ache. Now it felt as though there was a fire spreading across the flesh of his butt cheeks.
“You like this?” she asked, hitting again. Was that four or five? “That why you’re not licking? You want more?”
Christy started to rain down blows with even more force. They came fast and furious as she built a rhythm, the successive pain of each spank merging into a constant, screaming agony. Billy finally swallowed the disgust at the task that she had commanded he do and let his tongue slip from between his lips.
He tried to be tentative at first, but a swift hard blow made him squeal and bite down on his tongue. He yelped all the louder and quickly realized that if he was going to comply with his sister’s wishes he would have to get into the rhythm of the spanking. He yelped with the next blow, his tears building and dripping into the puddle as he leaned in and licked…
He paused as another spank rocked his butt…
He licked…
And so on…


Christy Harris was breathing hard and sweating when she finally flopped down onto her brother’s bed to rest. She could not believe that she was so out of shape, that so simple a thing as delivering a spanking could leave her sop winded and weak. Her arm was actually a little sore from the exertion and she knew that she would be feeling it even worse later on. Luckily though she now had her own personal masseuse to work out the kinks.
Christy grinned as she looked down at the pathetic thing on the floor at her feet. Her little brother had slumped to the floor and was whimpering and sobbing from the beating that she had given him. His but was cherry red, deep and dark with the hues mingling with the purple stain left from his sister’s spanking the day before. His entire body was red from the humiliation of the spanking, not to mention being forced to lick up the smelly puddle of piss that he had made on the floor.
She started to laugh, biting her lower lip as she lightly touched the soft sole of her foot to his butt. He yelped and she hissed to feel the heat radiating from his flabby ass. God, it was hot.
Christy blinked, realizing that her hand had drifted between her legs. Seeing her brother bound on the floor at her feet, beating his ass and humiliating him was getting her hot too. Her fingers came away damp at the slightest touch, and a quick sniff simply got her all the more aroused. She had experimented at college with some of her friends, and though she did not believe that she was a true lesbian, she could easily go either way. She loved the scent of women and found that she enjoyed being between their legs more so than a man’s. And she loved having either sex between her own, licking for all they were worth.
Billy could lick. He had proved that, and she was contemplating the next logical step as she stared dreamily down at him. He was a mess however, with his face full of grit and stained, his skin scratched and filthy from the door mat and his hair damp and matted down from wallowing in his own piss. He needed to get cleaned up before she let him anywhere near her, and she was just deciding how to do so when a knock sounded at the door.
“Come,” she said, shifting position and folding one leg beneath her, ignoring Billy’s cry as she pressed on his butt. She looked up as the door opened and saw her younger sister step into the room.
Jennifer’s eyes grew wide to see Billy whimpering and squirming, still bound and leashed on the floor. Then she burst out laughing, actually covering her mouth, her amusement was so loud. She ran the couple steps to be right at Billy’s head and quickly squatted down in front of him.
Jennifer was dressed pretty much the same as Christy in an over-sized shirt that hung to her thighs, though she wore a pair of black flip-flops on her feet. Her blonde hair looked damp and kinky as though after a shower, pulled back with a butterfly clip loosely so that it would still dry but keeping it out of her face. Her big blue eyes sparkled as she inspected their brother, her hand tenderly brushing over his enflamed skin, finally resting on his upturned butt cheek.
“Ooh,” she cooed, looking up at Christy and grinning. “Jeez, that’s hot.” Christy nodded, returning the grin as she patted the ruler lightly across her palm.
“Nice little piggy paddle,” she said, pointing at their brother. “P-P-Porky made a mess.”
“That’s what I smell?” Jennifer said, wrinkling her nose and frowning. “Eeeww…”
Jennifer quickly stood and stepped back. “Yuck!” she sneered, angling her feet and legs to see if she had anything offensive on the rubber soles of her thongs. Both girls saw that Billy’s attention was riveted on Jennifer’s actions, little realizing that so simple a movement would excite him so.
“Gawd,” Jennifer drawled. “What a perv.”
Jennifer stood well away, planting her feet and crossing her arms to stare down at Billy. Christy took the hint and stood as well, moving to her sister’s side. Both girls smiled to see their brother looking up at them, a series of emotions washing across his face; fear, lust, embarrassment and more.
“We should get him cleaned up a bit,” Christy finally urged. “He stinks.”
“I suppose,” Jennifer agreed. “Shower?”
“Why not,” Christy said with a shrug.
Rather than drag or carry their brother, the two girls decided to untie him. Christy dropped to her knees and began picking at the knots and ropes binding Billy’s knees and ankles while Jennifer did likewise the knots at his wrists. Christy watched with delight as her sister inched forward just enough to give poor Billy a teasing glimpse and probably a sniff between her shapely legs. She heard her brother’s breathing quicken and she knew that the sisterly attention was exciting him.
It took longer than Christy would have thought. Billy’s struggles had actually tightened the knots rather than getting him anywhere near freedom. She looked at the bruises etched into his ankles and knees and actually winced in empathy, hissing through her teeth as he moaned. She reasoned that the sudden flow of blood was hurting him even more.
Jennifer decided to leave his elbows bound ‘just in case’, though Christy doubted that he would try to escape. This was what he wanted after all. Still, when she finally unclasped his leash and undid the loop holding it to the bed frame and leg, she planted a knee in his back to hold him in place. She then reattached the leash to the old, tattered collar that had once belonged to their dog Scruffy years ago. She had fond memories of the black Lab from her youth and could not help think that her brother would be a poor substitute for her childhood pet.
Both girls stood and Christy tugged on the leash, ordering Billy to his feet. To his credit, he did try but with his elbows still bound behind him it was a struggle and nearly impossible as the rope had made his legs numb. In the end, each sister grabbed an arm and roughly hauled their brother to his feet, holding him until he got his legs back under him.
“C’mon now, puppy,” Christy said after awhile, stepping towards the bathroom and giving the leash a jerk. Billy grunted but fell into step, heeling she mused as Jennifer gave him a shove for emphasis. Together they steered him into the small bathroom that adjoined the bedroom and directed him into the tub.
“Sit!” Jennifer snapped, and with a thud Billy landed on the floor of the bathtub with a wince of pain. “Good boy,” she cooed, ruffling her hand through his hair and quickly regretting it, remembering why it was damp. “Bitch,” she said, wiping her hand on the damp towel that Christy had used to dry herself not so long before.
Christy giggled and shook her head as she looped the handle of the leash over the tub’s faucet. She gave it a quick tug to make sure that it would not slip off, then reached up to angle the showerhead. “Stay!” she commanded in theme as she then reached down and cranked the cold water on.
Billy gasped as icy cold water rained down on his head and back. He started to squirm, trying to get out of the stream of water, but both girls shouted at him to ‘stay’ again, and Jennifer at the ready slapped his shoulder with the sole of one of her flip-flops. Billy yelped and still squirmed, but he stayed put.
He was shivering after awhile, his teeth chattering as Christy turned away to the cabinet under the sink. She looked inside, then reached in and withdrew two long-handled brushes. They were stiff bristled and well-used, mainly from cleaning the bathroom toilet, tub and floor tiles. She handed one to her sister who accepted with a giggle of delight and a sparkle of mischief in her eyes.
Jennifer grabbed the shampoo from the shower caddy and squirted Billy’s back and head, ignoring his cries as the soap got into his eyes, stinging them. Then together, the two girls got on their knees beside the bathtub and started to scrub their brother’s dirty hide for all they were worth.
Billy was still sullen and sobbing an hour later when his sisters returned to collect him.
They had scrubbed him raw in the shower, and he was certain that the stiff bristled brushes were ripping the skin from his body throughout the humiliating ordeal, especially on his already tender ass. Jennifer had paid special attention to his butt and genitals, actually ripping his soiled panties off of him and throwing them away with a scolding that he did not appreciate the generosity of her gift. Christy had laughed at that and had started to scrub at him even harder.
It had taken awhile, and he was red and burning while shivering when they had finally turned off the water. They ordered him to shake like a dog to shed off the excess water and he did. Then Christy undid the leash from the faucet and ordered him to stand and step out of the tub. It was hard, and this time they did not help him, Christy simply tugging on the leash while Jennifer spurred him on, poking and prodding with the toilet brush.
When he was finally up and out of the tub, Christy tied off the leash to the shower curtain rod and they ordered him to ‘stay’ again as they stepped out of the small bathroom. They turned in the doorway and he saw them both giggling and eyeing his erection now free and unfettered from the panties. The abuse and humiliation was still exciting him, and his little penis was standing as proudly as it could – almost five full inches.
“We’ll be back later, puppy,” Christy said as she reached back into the room and flicked on the heat lamp. The light in the tiny room immediately brightened and Billy felt a growing warmth bearing down on his tender red skin. He started to shift immediately in the increasing heat, going from shivering to sweating as Christy had set the lamp to full. The girls had watched him squirm for a bit, both smirking, then turning and shutting the door. After some hushed whispers and footfalls beyond, he heard them leave his room, shutting that door as well.
Billy knew that he must look totally miserable when they finally returned and opened the door. Standing there under the lamp his skin was glowing red, the welts from his beatings and the scratches from the scrubbing and door mat radiating even more. His shoulder length hair was a tangled mess and felt greasy from the forced drying, his head and shoulders taking the brunt of the heat. He imagined that he had bags under his eyes from his restless night on the floor and the whites must still be a shocking pink from all of his crying.
As expected, his sisters laughed to see him. Not because of the way he looked, but because his penis immediately sprang to life at the sight of them. They had both dressed and put themselves back together for the day. Christy was wearing a V-neck black sweater that showed some nice cleavage, a denim skirt that hung to mid-thigh and her dark Ugg boots. Her hair was combed and loose about her shoulders, framing her smiling face. Jennifer had dressed in a tight pink tee shirt and blue jeans that hugged her hips and flared at the frayed hems of the pant legs. Her pretty feet barely peeked from the flared legs, and Billy saw that she still wore her black flip-flops. She had combed out her hair as well, but still had it tied back into a tail.
“He looks done,” Christy laughed as she flipped the heat lamp switch off.“A bit well done, you ask me.” Jennifer stepped in and started to undo the leash from the shower rod, and Billy guessed that it was her turn to ‘walk the dog’. She looped the handle of the leash about her hand and tugged Billy out of the bathroom. He hoped that they would let him get dressed; even a pair of panties to hide his privates, but the girls simply strolled to the door and out into the hall.
Billy felt the warmth of the house then. The past week or so had been relatively mild up until yesterday when the weather had shifted for the worse and it had actually snowed. They had had the heat off, and with the sudden wintry chill, the house had grown cold. Billy could feel the heat of the gas inline heating in the hallway and reasoned that Christy must have closed the vents in his room to keep it cool and to make his night more uncomfortable. She could always bundle up in blankets if she got cold, after all.
Too, he could smell bacon as soon as they led him down the stairs. That was a surprise, that one of them had actually cooked breakfast and not left the job for him. His mouth started to water as they descended the steps and headed towards the kitchen. The girls laughed as his stomach started to rumble in hunger. It had been almost a full day since he had eaten.
“Puppy hungry?” Christy asked, her hand playfully swatting his butt and making him yelp. “Don’t worry, boy. We got you some Dog Chow, so you won’t starve, sweetie.”
Billy thought that his oldest sister was kidding, but as they led him into the kitchen he saw a bright yellow plastic dog bowl on the floor under the kitchen table filled with dry kibble. His mother was sitting at the table reading the morning paper and looked up when they entered only to burst out laughing at the sight of him. Where seeing his sisters in the doorway upstairs had excited him to erection, he was now feeling small and embarrassed, and his mother's laughter made him shrivel as he hung his head in shame.
Kathy Harris folded the newspaper and set it aside, only to take up a huge steaming mug of coffee and taking a sip. She eyed him, and he felt like a fly on the wall, a bug under the microscope as she looked him up and down, her gaze finally settling on his penis. She shook her head and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.
“My god,” she said with a sigh. “How pathetic. Just like your father.” She glared at his penis and shook her head again. Billy saw her recross her legs under the table.
She was wearing a sweater similar to Christy’s, but with full length sleeves rather than three-quarter and those pushed up to the elbow. It was a dark green and showed her cleavage well too, tight across her breasts. She wore a raggedy pair of blue jeans that were frayed on the ass, knees and hems, and a pair of chunky soled black leather clogs that she usually wore around the house and outside in the back yard doing summer yard work because they were easy to kick off. Billy licked his lips and felt himself stirring, knowing how old and well worn those clogs were after years of wear and tear. He looked up at her smiling face, her hair loose and touching her shoulders.
“Well, better let him eat his breakfast,” she said glancing at the kitchen sink. Billy followed her gaze and saw that it was piled high with grimy and greasy pots, pans and dishes of every shape and size. “He has a lot of work to do today.”
His mother took another sip of coffee then picked up the paper again as Jennifer ordered him to his knees and under the table. He saw clearly then his mother’s right foot hanging over his breakfast. She twirled her foot and the old pair of clunky-soled black clogs that she had had for years and as he kneeled down and he was immediately hit by the smells of old, worn leather and her feet that he was beginning to think simply stank naturally. She was dangling the clog, slapping the insole against the bottom of her bare foot, probably equally out of habit as for his benefit. Despite the fact that they were turning him into a pet and slave, they knew what he liked and continued to tease him, keeping poor Billy on edge.
It was hard kneeling down with his elbows still tied, but he managed, staring at last at the heaping bowl of dry dog chow. It hardly looked edible let alone appetizing, but his stomach still growled as he smelled the meaty odor drifting his way. His stomach started flipping as that stench mingled with the odor of his mother’s feet and shoes so close to the bowl. He yelped as something slashed across his ass again, biting and stinging and driving him forward.
“Dig in, puppy!” Christy commanded, and he knew that she had the ruler in hand. He leaned in, sniffing the kibble, his tongue easing out of his mouth. He felt the chunky sole of his mother’s shoe on the back of his head, pressing his face into the dog bowl.
“Eat!” she ordered, turning the page of the paper. “Eat it all, or you get no dinner.”
Billy opened his mouth and dug into the dry dog food, taking in a small mouthful at first, then little by little, more and more. It was not as bad as he imagined. There was a definite taste of meat, beef he thought, but more likely pig; entrails, fat, skin. He did not want to think what went into the flavoring of the kibble as he ate, trying not to gag and slowly acclimating to the food. It was all in his head. He knew that the chow was nutritious – for dogs at any rate – but it would not kill him and would no doubt fill his empty belly. He needed water though, as after just a few bites the rank smell and dry taste started to clog in his throat.
It took some time to finish, and the women oddly left him to the task. Jennifer and Christy both got coffee and joined their mother at the table. Both too put their feet on him as a foot rest while he ate, but they left him unnaccosted otherwise t his task.
It was almost a half-hour later that he swallowed the last nugget and announced that he was done.
“Good boy,” his mother praised, glancing under the table to confirm what he said. He glowed at her smile of approval, then yelped as her foot pressed against his lips. “Lick my shoes until I’m done,” she ordered, turning the page of the newspaper.
Billy gagged at the smell of her old clogs at his lips and under his nose. His stomach grumbled and churned with the dry dog food, now spoiled with the stench of old leather and sweat. Still, he felt his penis starting to grow again as he stuck out his parched tongue and touched it to the soft leather. He started to lick, his head spinning from the heady smell of shoe and foot. He felt the grit as his tongue scraped across the sole, and he was forced to pause over and over and endure the sharp jabs against his nose and cheek as he worked up spit.
One quick kick made him cry out and he felt a trickle of blood ooze from his nose. He licked even harder…


“You have an hour to get this kitchen spotless,” Kathy Harris said as she tossed her paper aside and shoved her chair back to stand. Billy was still under the table. Waiting like a good dog as her daughters stood as well. “Do the dishes. Wipe down the stove and table and countertops. I doubt you’ll have time to scrub the whole floor, but you better be on your knees and trying when I come back. If not… well… your butt can’t take much more.”
Kathy Harris motioned for her daughters to leave, and when they were gone she too moved to the door. She paused in the doorway though and watched as her son crawled from beneath the table and struggled to his feet. When he saw her he blanched, then quickly hung his head and reddened with embarrassment. Kathy laughed.
“Do your best, Billy,” she said with some compassion. “I don’t expect miracles.”
She turned and walked away, certain that he would do as he was told. Jennifer was right in that he was a total pervert and that serving them in every and all respects was what got him off. She could not believe the state of his constant – if tiny – erection, and she knew that despite his whimpering, Billy was loving every minute of his new life.
As a slave.
It was still hard to believe.
Kathy thought back as she stood in the doorway to the Living Room, watching as her two beautiful daughters settled in and started to argue good naturedly over what to watch on the television…
She had become pregnant with Christy right out of High School. Her father was the school jock, BMOC, and she was the Prom Queen. That of course was fleeting, and nine months after graduation she had brought Christy into the world. Jim Simpson had tried to be supportive, and together they were doing a good job of making it, but then just three years later she learned that she was again with child and Jennifer.
Jim had been stricken, as he had had a vasectomy, but apparently he had been a statistic and it had not taken – one in a billion or some ridiculous number. His job was next to worthless, and the pressure had been too great. Jim had joined the army and had gone off to fight in the interim between wars off in the Middle East…
Where he had died.
Kathy and family had received benefits that had helped, but she knew that she needed more with two mouths to feed besides her own. She had gone back to college to finish her degrees in finance and business. That was where she had met William Harris.
William was pleasant; nice and thoughtful if not a bit submissive and wimpy. Still, he had money, and he truly cared for her and her daughters. He had custody of his son, Billy, after a divorce, and everyone seemed to get along. Kathy pursued her degrees while William worked. Together after her graduation and appointment with Wallace and Garner on Wall Street, they had bought the house and property in Port Jefferson, Long Island and settled in to start a true life.
Until six months later when William had died of Prostrate Cancer.
Kathy had raised the three children as best she could, and had thought that she had done a damn good job of it until the past week or so. Now Billy’s perversions were out in the open and she was not so certain. She wondered just where she had gone wrong with him, but figured that it was more likely the lack of a father figure that had led him down his perverted paths.
Kathy smiled and moved to sit on the couch beside her daughters. They had finally decided to watch Casablanca on TCM, and that was fine with her. The movie was ten minutes into it, and Kathy figured to give her son some bonus time to get the kitchen squared away. She hoped that he would.
She really did not want to beat him…
Saturday became a whirlwind blur of cleaning.
Billy had cleaned the kitchen well, his mother coming in to expect the job after almost two hours rather than one, for which he was thankful. He never would have finished within the otherwise allotted time. Kathy Harris had smiled and told him that he had done a good job, and for some reason that made him feel good as well.
Billy had no problem obeying as his mother ordered him upstairs to give the second floor bedrooms and bathrooms a thorough cleaning. She expected the carpeting vacuumed, the rooms picked up and straightened, everything dusted and polished to her perfection. Billy had no idea why, as he had spent the past few days cleaning the whole house and there was nothing, save maybe his own room, that was in bad looking shape. Still, he was glad for the reprieve and actually hurried upstairs and out of sight to do as he was told.
He worked naked, as none of them had offered to clothe him – not even in a demeaning pair of panties. Too, he was still bound at the elbows, and there were several jobs that were awkward to say the least, like sweeping in the corners and scrubbing at the tiles in the bathrooms behind the toilets, but he did not complain. He was happy for the escape from the constant scrutiny of his mother and sisters, and the actual calm that the house keeping brought him.
He fixed sandwiches for his family for Lunch around one in the afternoon, and actually stood at attention without command, awaiting their pleasure throughout. His mother and sisters fairly ignored him though, only asking for more drink or a cigarette lit. Afterwards he cleaned up again and got back to the other chores.
An hour or so later his sisters passed through the hallway upstairs stating that they were going to the Mall. Bill was elated knowing how both loved to shop and knew that they would be gone for hours. They went to their respective rooms (Christy was staying in his) and they emerged a bit later, both in long coats against the outside winter chill. Christy was dressed the same, but Billy noted that Jennifer had donned her rubber rain boots again to ward off the melting snow. They shouldered their bags, and Christy spun their mother’s key ring in hand as they both thundered down the stairs and out of the house. Billy sighed with relief…
Billy kept cleaning until six-ish, when his mother ordered supper. Again Billy went to the kitchen and fixed a simple dinner of Tuna Casserole (basically macaroni and cheese with tuna and corn baked in the oven for awhile). He was totally shocked when after she was done eating that she thanked him and allowed him to finish what was left. He had been expecting dog kibble again. She did make him eat it off the floor, however…
His sisters returned after eleven.
Billy was on his hands and knees in front of the couch, his mother with her feet propped and crossed at the ankles resting on his back. She had changed to her smelly house slippers and robe and was half-dozing when Christy and Jennifer came loudly into the Living Room, obviously buzzed.
“Hey, Mom,” they both said, laughing as they caught sight of Billy acting as their mother’s footstool. Billy put his head to the floor, feeling the embarrassment again and trying to block out his family’s laughter.
“Hi, girls,” Kathy Harris said, forcing herself to awaken from her semi-doze. She was more than a little buzzed herself, but still reached for her tumbler of Scotch sitting on the table beside the sofa. “How was shopping?”
“Great!” Christy exclaimed, dropping her bags beside the couch and flopping down. She immediately draped her legs across her brother’s back, settling her crossed ankles on his neck to take advantage of his footstool status. Jennifer did likewise on the opposite end of the sofa.
“It was more window shopping than anything though. It was fun. Been awhile.”
“Yeah,” Christy agreed.
“So, did you actually buy anything?” Kathy asked, sipping at her Scotch.
“Umm-hmmm,” Christy stated, grabbing her bag from the floor beside the sofa. She handed it to her mother with a wide grin directed at her brother as Kathy Harris looked inside. The older woman gasped, then chuckled, looking from one daughter to the other.
“You didn’t,” she said, though she obviously knew otherwise.
“Oh, we did,” Jennifer giggled, “and it didn’t cost us a cent. Christy found Billy’s stash in his sock drawer; almost $300.”
“And you spent it all on that?”
“And dinner,” Christy confirmed. It WAS his money, after all.”
They all laughed, though Billy missed the joke, not knowing what his sisters had purchased. He imagined that he would learn soon enough, and that it would not be good…


Billy screamed as a jolt of electricity burned into his throat.
He woke thrashing on the doormat much the same as he had the previous morning, with just a few differences.
One, he was in his sister, Jennifer’s room. Apparently it was her turn to enjoy having her brother bound and gagged and leashed on the floor beside the bed. When they had all tired, he was led upstairs on the leash and into Jenn’s room where he saw the backdoor mat had been moved. Billy knew the drill and walked up to what was to be his bed for the night.
With his elbows still bound it was a simple matter to tie off his wrists and his legs as well. The three women then eased him to the floor and implemented the second difference that he woke to. He was hog-tied…
Christy had folded his legs over at the knees, holding his ankles to his wrists while Jennifer had tied a short cord connecting the two. When they released their collective holds, Billy’s legs moved a little, then drew up short and tight, making the ropes cut into his bound arms and legs. Satisfied that he was going nowhere quickly, Christy attached his leash to the bed frame while their mother gagged him.
Kathy Harris stuffed a fresh pair of soiled panties into poor Billy’s mouth, then started wrapping the nylon about his head again. Tighter and tighter she wrapped the material until Billy’s lips parted and the nylon dug deep into the corners of his lips, effectively cleave-gagging him. She let go of the trailing ends with a flourish when the final knot was cinched, letting his head fall forward to thump on the floor to their amusement.
They had said their good nights, and Christy and Kathy had left. Oddly, Jennifer went right to sleep with no torment or taunting. Odder still, Billy had drifted right off to sleep.
Now he was writhing as a jolting shock rocked his body. There was massive pain in his neck, causing him to cry out, screaming into his gag. Then it stopped as abruptly as it had started.
Then it hit him again.

He heard Jennifer laughing as the next jolt died away leaving him whimpering and breathing hard. He craned his neck, looking up to the bed and saw his sister sitting Indian-style atop the mattress. She grinned and held out a slim black object that she pointed at Billy, and he saw her thumb twitch-
Billy writhed as an electric shock shot into his neck again. He realized then what was happening. His sisters had spent his hard-earned and saved money on him all right. They had bought him a Remote Dog training Collar: a Shock Collar! Jennifer was leaning on the button; sending god knows how many volts of electricity into his neck and causing him incredible pain. She was laughing hard as he writhed and squirmed with every jolt.
“Like that, Bro?”
ZAP!
“Feel good?”
ZAP!
“Want another?”
ZAP!
ZAP!
ZAP!
It went on for awhile…

Billy was a docile wreck as he padded down the stairs on all fours, heeling at his sister’s feet. His head hung low, but he knew that she carried the Remote to the collar in hand and had threatened to keep zapping until he did as commanded.
He did not really understand, as he had not disobeyed once. Granted, he had done things that they had not liked, but he had not rebelled once, so he wondered why he was being so severely punished. He could not come up with a feasible answer and decided in the end that his sisters were just doing as they liked with no concern to him. He was a slave after all…
Or was about to be.
When he crawled into the Living Room, Billy was shocked to see a stranger sitting on the sofa next to his mother. She was an older woman, in her fifties he figured, but still attractive. She had grayish black hair tied back into a bun and was wearing a casual tweed skirt and long-sleeved black turtleneck against the cold. She had on a pair of low-heeled black leather boots and smoky gray hose, her legs crossed as she sipped coffee and read through a stapled sheaf of papers. Both she and Billy’s mother turned at his approach.
Kathy Harris smiled as the older woman gasped, her eyes going wide at the first sight of Billy crawling on all fours, leashed and led by his sister. Jennifer had removed his bindings, including the gag and elbow ropes, obviously for a reason as she walked him right up to the side of the sofa.
“Miz Jacobi,” Jennifer said rather primly, “May I present the article in question? My stepbrother and puppy dog, Billy.” Billy heard his mother laugh as electricity shot into his neck again. Immediately he dropped his head to the floor and stared at the stranger’s shoes.
There were snow salt stains along the soles of the woman’s boots, and water stains too from melted, dried snow. They were filthy, and they smelled of leather, and he wanted them. Too, he knew that he had better lean in and start to lick, or he would get another shock. He did…
Billy extended his tongue and started in, angling his head to get along the lower edges of the woman’s boots. The salt and dirt was nasty, and he was thankful that there was no Ice Melt chemical in the mix. The bitter rock salt was bad enough, and the woman had stepped in something rank on the way, hidden in the snow. It tasted foul and made Billy’s stomach turn at the slightest scent.
He heard the older woman titter, a fleeting little laugh. “Oh, Kathy, you were so right,” she said, angling her feet so that Billy could get at every angle of her filthy boots. “Such a good and proper son. I wish I had a child so devoted to me.”
“You can, Marilyn,” his mother said crossing her legs. She was dressed up actually, in a dark knee length skirt, hose and those kid leather pumps that reeked of feet and age. She had on a gray blouse that was only half buttoned, and her hair was tied back in a tight bun just like the older woman’s. Both were wearing glasses as they shuffled papers on their lap. “Anytime you want to use him, he’s yours.”
WHAT?
He saw the older woman smile and then it finally sank in. Miss Jacobi was his mother’s friend from the LIRR, the judge. She had come over to sign the papers that would make him the property of his mother and sisters. Papers that would declare him basically incompetent, and needing the care of his family for a time indefinite. Basically until they got bored and said otherwise. He doubted that that would ever happen.
“Ahhh!” Billy screamed as electricity shot through his neck. He crumpled down again, shaking his head as his sister prodded him closer to the old lady’s booted feet, making him lick all the harder.
“Mmmmn,” Miz Jacobi hummed as she watched poor Billy at her feet, gagging at the stench and licking for all he was worth. He did not wish to be shocked again, but little did he know that the better he licked was another nail in the coffin, sealing his ever-lasting fate. “I do like this,” the judge said. “It’s been some time since I’ve received this kind of attention.”
“You’ve had your feet licked before?” Billy heard Christy’s voice as she came into the room.
“I’m an old lady, dear,” Miz Jacobi said with an all-knowing tone. “I’ve done things in my life time you might only dream of. I’ve sentenced innocent young boys to a life of hard labor and Death’s Row without batting an eye, just to hear them begging me for forgiveness and mercy. You don’t even want to know how many have been in my private chambers hoping for reprieve at my feet or between my legs, only to have me crush their hopes like testicles under my heels. It’s been awhile since I’ve had a slave,” she mused, shoving the toe of one boot under Billy’s face and pressing the square and blocky heel of the other boot into his neck to make him lick faster and harder. “Even a part time one. I look forward to it.
“Where do I sign?”


As the final insult, they made Billy kneel before them after shoving the coffee table back. He was told to keep his back steady and to kiss his mother’s smelly leather pumps in gratitude while they all signed his life away. It barely took two minutes…
Her Honor, Marilyn Jacobi signed the official forms that declared Billy Harris mentally deficient and incompetent. It was a simple matter really, as she had brought a pre-signed affidavit from another friend that would become involved soon enough; a psychiatrist that falsified records showing that she had examined poor Billy and found him unstable, both mentally and physically.
The judge also signed papers that would allow the family to apply for State and Federal assistance. There was a potential for a $200 weekly grant to help support poor, retarded Billy. With the judges blessing and the psychiatrists’ endorsement, that money was in the bag.
Billy’s mother co-signed the papers that would make her Guardian of Trust, rather than Stepmother. The main difference being that she would basically be in command of his life indefinitely, rather than that being terminated at age eighteen. Until the courts and a psychiatrist with months of study deemed him fit, his mother would be in total control of his life in all regards.
There was a trust that his father had set up that was to have come to him at his eighteenth birthday, almost $50,000 with accrued interest and stock options that Kathy would now receive to help support his continued existence. Accordingly, and with their signatures, his sisters would be appointed secondary and tertiary Guardians as well.


With every scrape of the pen digging into his back, Billy felt his life slipping away. He was legally being ‘sold’ into slavery, forever to be at the beck and call of his family, and the judge at least. He licked his lips as they read each document aloud before signing, half for his benefit so that he would know.
He knew that if he ever rebelled that he would be out on the streets with the clothes on his back – basically a pair of panties and a shock collar. He no longer had any rights, and he was now truly an Orwellian Non-Person. He had a name, but that was all. He was property, a slave forever more…
Billy Harris took a long, deep breath, sniffing deeply of the old worn leather of his mother’s dark pumps. His head started to spin and he closed his eyes, leaning closer as he extended his tongue to scrape across the shoe in loving thanks, reveling in the heady smell of shoe and foot; boon and bane to him, desire.
There was nowhere that he would rather be, nothing that he would rather do.
And if any of the women heard his whispered prayers of thanks, they ignored them, laughing all the harder.
Ordering him to lick…
END

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