Date: Tue, 27 Nov 2018 02:17:45 +0000 (UTC)
From: JB
Subject: Kathy's Slave Son (bisexual/authoritarian)

Disclaimer:  This is a work of fiction by the author and written solely for
enjoyment.

Contains:  Bisexual, foot slavery, food play, incest

Kathy's Slave Son


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.  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.

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 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. Though he barely showed any muscle.  His hair almost matched her
own shade of brown. He had his father's wide ears and tiny nose and
sparkling blue eyes, his best feature she thought.

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 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.  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 slave stories. 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 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, yes" he whimpered, a little shocked by her tone of voice apparently.
"Mom, please! Will you just untie me now?"

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. ALL. OF. 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,
powerful sexual needs.  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 street 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.

Silently he cursed himself.  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 toy. 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 and then
finally his wrists.  He was 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 great.

He spent several minutes squirming and writhing on the bed, imagining that
his mother and sisters were torturing him, holding him captive.  He
fantasized that he was 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.

The ropes only seemed to tighten with every attempt he made to get free.

He was trapped!

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.

She could not believe it.

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.

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 her
daughters and her somehow, for some reason overpowering Billy, 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.

It was too much.  Too much.

Kathy tossed away the magazine.  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?

"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 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."
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 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 fetishes, just like everybody.  It's just that his are a way more
kinky than most."

"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?  I know I love having my pussy eaten."

"Jennifer!" Kathy started to scold her daughter, until she realized that
she was right.  Kathy loved having her pussy eaten too, even bit!  Was that
really a fetish?

"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 keyhole."

"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 come out."

"Anyway...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.  Somehow
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 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 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.  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."

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.

"Jennifer! Stop it! You're hurting him!" Her mother's voice cracked as she
stomped over to the bed, a look of terror washing across her face.

Jennifer rolled her eyes and sighed. "Mo-ther!  I told you before.  He
likes this."

"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.  She could
not stop the tingling with the excitement that crackled through her body.
Nor did she want to.  She was 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.

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.  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. "He's not my real brother. We're just gonna use
and 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.  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 take care of your feet after a long day?
I know I would. 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.

Kathy was concerned, "well, 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.

"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.

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.  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.  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 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.  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.

He heard the click and clack of the front door's locks, followed by the
door itself slamming against the wall in the entryway. There was a
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. She was dressed in her black and
gold cheerleader's uniform, short black skirt, and white tennis shoes.  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 white tennis shoes and
they were slick with rainwater from the sudden storm, mostly, and somewhat
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 what she was doing.

"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 shoe 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.  "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 ground the sole of her shoe 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.  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.

He reached up, his hands gently cupping the sides of her slick rubber
shoe. "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 shoed 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?  Lick, Billy," she ordered. "You don't want me
to tell mom, you lick my shoes clean."

Slowly he eased his tongue up and out until it pressed against the slimy
sole of his sister's shoe.  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.

Jennifer Harris stared down with a wide, superior grin as she watched her
stepbrother lick the mud from her shoes.  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.

Jennifer looked down and grinned, staring at the pathetic worm groveling on
the floor under her foot.  She looked down again and saw that he had
cleaned her shoe 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, she was enjoying this.

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.

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.

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.  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 wrong.

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.

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.  But luck had been with her as when she stepped from the stairs a
black cab had pulled up right in front of her to take her home.

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 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 still was wearing her
cheerleading uniform and shoes.

"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 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.  Kathy gave a final look to her son as he scrambled back to place,
his arm churning as he scrubbed the tiles with his 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 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 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 five 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 bullshit
story that his sister was spinning about him being lazy and messy and
masturbating, trying desperately to get up every trace of the mud that
might remain, and then some.

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 a near total pack of lies.

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 shoes if not the actual disgusting mud.
That had been pretty nasty, but he knew that a real slave would do it for
his Mistress.

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 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
treated 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 cleaning.  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
dog.  She registered just as Billy got to her that Jennifer had been
referring to him as Bitch.  Billy eased right up to Kathy, coming around
the coffee table and kneeling before her.  She had not bothered to change
clothes, too interested in what was happening. 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 was 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.  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, thoroughly 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 more than 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.

"Good slave," Jennifer said, kicking him casually in the butt.  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 cupped her stockinged toes over his
nose, making sure that he sniffed under her toes.  Kathy 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, much to the
delight of Jennifer.

"God, they smell dreadful," she admitted.  She could only imagine the smell
of her feet, the years of sweat and leather all mingling from being on the
market floor all day long.  Her feet 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,
kicking off the tennis shoes she wore without socks and 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.  And then Kathy began to slide her pantyhose
down her legs; and, one by one, slid her nylons off over her size seven
feet.

"Lick both of our feet... slave!" Kathy commanded.  Jennifer 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
and his mom's all before his face, the sweat dry and caked to their feet.
He whimpered and leaned in, kissing and licking.

"We'll make a footboy of him yet," explained Jennifer.

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 foot slavery 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
smelly feet and shoes.  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.  He inhaled the
gamy vinegar smell of her unwashed feet and the ripe cheesy stench of her
toenails.  He gagged, kissing and licking as much as he could.

"Suck on my heel and clean it with your mouth." She pressed her heel into
his mouth, making him taste it and press his tongue against it.  Billy
struggled to overcome his gagging as he sucked on her heels and the balls
of her feet; he let his tongue slide along her soles and sucked on each of
her dirty toes, provoking some moans.

Then he shifted to his mother.  Her feet stank too, but it was a different
stench.  He loved the lingering odors of leather mingling with a vinegary
perfume.  It was so intoxicating that it made his head swim, his vision
blurring as he swayed in nirvana.  It could not get better.

He was forced to lick specks of dirt and fabric from between her
toes. "Oooh, that's it. Between my nasty toes."  Occasionally, Kathy would
moan softly as she enjoyed the contact of Billy's tongue all over her feet.
"Mmmnn. I just love this," muttered Kathy with eyes closed as Billy's mouth
sucked her toes in different ways.

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 that she always keeps
on ground beside couch 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.

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.  Jennifer
assured Christy that Billy liked the treatment, craved it actually.
Christy had been easy to convince after hearing of the evening's
activities.

"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 now stink sock clad big toe, laughing as Billy
wrinkled his nose at the smell.  "You remember his stories and 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 gotcha. 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, so you can kiss my
feet."

"Make him lick your feet," he heard his mother say. Her words were slurred
slightly, and he knew that she was getting drunk.  "He likes that."

"I have an even better idea sis," Jennifer said with a sly smile.

Jennifer walked to the kitchen, leaving Christy and Kathy in suspense.

"Take off my boots now."

Trapped in her old Ugg Boots for days, she knew that her feet must really
be ripe and pungent, but she did not care.  She knew that Billy loved it
that way.  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, and the mildewy stench of dampness.
Billy gagged, turning away.

"Ooh, my feet stink to high heaven," Christy remarked.

Jennifer returned from the kitchen with Aunt Cindy's three-layer coffee
cake with buttercream frosting.

"He should lick this uneaten cake from your feet sis," Jennifer said with a
big devilish grin.

"What do you think mom?  No one was eating it," Christy asked eagerly.

"Why not," Kathy said with a shrug.

So visibly excited, Jennifer shoved the coffee table back and put the
rectangular cake pan on the ground in front of eager Christy as she
tauntingly slowly peeled off her damp rank socks and pulled off her grimy
toe ring for Billy.

Kathy watched as Christy stood up and gradually pressed her foot, toes
first, into the layered cake, the frosting showing up between her toes.

"Oh god, that feels too good," Christy declared.

"Oh god, that's so gross," Kathy muttered in bemusement, four drinks in
now.

Christy had this maniacal mean smile on her face as she pushed her other
stinky damp foot to the bottom of the cake, through all the layers as
frosting oozed up between her toes.

"Oh wow, this so cool," Jennifer exclaimed putting her hands to her face in
surprise at the excitement of witnessing this debauchery.

"I'm telling you sis, you would LOVE this," Christy said as she slowly
stepped around in the cake, enjoying the frosting stuck to her soles and
between her toes.  The thrill of doing this gross taboo act made it even
better for Christy; she thought with a smile about what Aunt Cindy and
others would think as they watched the cake and frosting gather between her
gross stinky toes, as her toes penatrated and destroyed different parts of
the once beautiful delicious cake.  No one does this to food.  But she was
doing it.  And loving it.

Christy sat down with such a contented look her on face as he feet mushed
around a little more in the cake and Jennifer pulled the cofee in closer
again so Christy could put her feet on the coffee table.  Christy looked at
Billy, "You heard mom earlier, lick my feet clean... slave."

Billy extended his tongue, and began to lick the cake form her slightly
calloused heel.  Then he worked his tongue up the soles and sides of her
feet.  And so he licked every inch of her caked feet and sucked on her toes
"good and slow" as she moaned and leaned her head back.

Jennifer and Kathy were entranced, watching the horny spectacle.  Jennifer
found herself massaging her legs and licking her lips.  She wanted to reach
over and rub her mother's legs and couldn't believe watching Christy get
her toes sucked clean was making her want to do that.  Jennifer knew where
all this had to go next, no matter who protested.

Jennifer stood up and started removing her cheerleading uniform.

"Oh wow, what are you doing sis?" Christy asked playfully from near
orgasmic haze.

"Jennifer, what are you...," Kathy asked in slightly tipsy confusion, the
old mixture of terror and yet fascination welling up in her again Jennifer
noticed.

"Mom, we're all too horny right now not to do this, your slave son here
wants to do this," Jennifer responded.

"C'mon sis, let's undress mom," Jennifer said.

The girls helped their tipsy horny mother stand up and started removing her
business suit and skirt as Billy watched.  They left her tank top and bra
alone, but grasped Kathy's panties and tugged them down.

"Please girls, stop this now, please, this...this is going too far, I can't
go through with this," Kathy weakly protested.

Billy could tell that their mother was well on the way to drunk, buzzed at
least, and the inhibitions were being eroded.

"Go with it mom," Jennifer said with a smile. "You will enjoy it."

Kathy noticed that Billy looked so pathetic sitting there quietly, his head
bowed.  Kathy just stood there and Jennfer knew just by looking at her that
her fighting this was over.  Kathy was horny as hell.

Jennifer kicked Billy to get him moving and he moved to his mother and
reached between his mom's thighs and slowly licked her thighs and pulled
his face into her.  Kathy stood there, braced by Jennifer, as Billy slowly
explored Kathy's pussy.  He ran his tongue lightly around the outer lips,
feeling them enlarge and grow moist.  He teased her, running his tongue
around and around the outer lips, the suddenly stabbed his tongue into her.
She gasped, but the sound was muffled. Billy looked up and saw that
Jennifer had slipped her hands inside mom's bra, massaging her breasts. The
reason her voice was muffled was that their mouths were locked together in
a passionate kiss.

Christy noticed that her hand had drifted between her legs as she intensely
watched this hot action.  A son licking out his own mother as a daughter
kissed her mother.

Kathy fell back to couch, her knees perhaps buckling under the sensations.
And Billy continued to lick for all that he was worth.  Her breathing and
moaning increased, and Billy licked all the harder.  Finally Billy sensed
her shudder and her moaning stopped, turned to soft whimpers.  His mother's
breathing and gyrating movements slowed.  He kept licking but slowly now,
softly as she came back down to earth as Jennifer comforted her.

"Lick Jenn's pussy now, BITCH," Christy ordered.

Billy did as he was ordered.  And Christy loved what she saw.  Jennifer was
sitting on the sofa with her legs spread and had both hands gripping
handfuls of Billy's hair while she was forcing Billy's head between her
legs.  She was saying things like, "You filthy little whore, use your
tongue on my clit to make me cum."

Christy sat there on the ground not believing what she was watching.  She
watched as Jennifer made Billy do all kinds of nasty and degrading things.
She was enjoying everything.  Jennifer soon went stiff and her body
quivered while she pointed her toes down towards the floor.  She was
grinding Billy's face into her crotch hard.  When she relaxed she pushed
Billy away while her chest heaved from heavy breathing.  Christy saw that
Jennifer's body was sweaty and her hair was now a mess.  Her mother sat on
the sofa looking as if she was lost, the orgasm and tongue lashing from
Billy having taken its toll, along with the alcohol.

Christy migrated over to the large overstuffed chair masturbating and
playing with her tits and she called Billy over and got fully naked.  Billy
was grasped both of Christy's tits with his hands while he was rubbing his
face up and down between the legs of his sister.  He worked even harder at
making Christy cum, he drove his tongue deep into her pussy.  Jennifer,
exhausted, watched as Christy grabbed hold of his hair with both hands and
pulled her head tightly against her crotch at the same time she humped her
ass off of the couch and she wiggled her ass around grinding her pussy into
Billy's face.  When she came she tossed her head back and collapsed on the
chair.

"You see, mom," Jennifer said, popping the top on a beer can.  "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 and bodies."

"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
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.

"Mmmmnnn..." he heard his mother moan in pleasure.  "That feels SO
good. It's sinful."

"At least," Jennifer giggled, stretching to plant her own 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.

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...

"Nightie-Night, slave boy."

And Billy Harris lay wide-awake, wondering.

He was a slave, bound and gagged and today he was servicing the feet and
shoes of his mother and sisters.

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.  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!

"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.

"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."

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.  Billy was writhing about on
the floor mat when his sister finally emerged from the bathroom.  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 her toes, his trance broken only by her
light, mocking voice.

Billy could lick. He had proved that the night before, 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.

"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 pulled back with a butterfly clip loosely so that it
would stay out of her face.  Her big blue eyes sparkled as she inspected
their brother, her hand tenderly brushing over his skin, finally resting on
his upturned butt cheek.

"We should untie him and get him working," Christy finally urged.

"I suppose," Jennifer agreed.

Both sisters 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 wore her black flats.  She had
combed out her hair as well, but still had it tied back into a tail.

Billy was untied and 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.  He knew he was expected downstairs.

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.

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 oatmeal, so you won't
starve, sweetie."

They led him into the kitchen he saw a big bowl on the floor under the
kitchen table filled with fresh hot oatmeal.  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, but he managed, staring at last at the heaping
bowl of hot oatmeal.  His stomach started flipping as that stench mingled
with the odor of his mother's feet and shoes so close to the bowl.

"Dig in, puppy!" Christy commanded.  He readied to lean in, his tongue
easing out of his mouth.  Then he saw his mother uncross her legs under the
table.  He saw her sweaty rank feet slip out of the clogs and slip into his
oatmeal in the bowl.

"Mmmmmmmm......now 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 oatmeal, taking in a small mouthful
at first, then little by little, more and more.  Jennifer and Christy both
got coffee and joined their mother at the table.  Both put their feet on
him as a foot rest while he ate, but they left him unnaccosted otherwise.
As he ate more, his mother started wiggling her toes deep in the oatmeal
and playing with it more.  She moaned a little.  She pulled her feet up
from the oatmeal a bit so her son could lick the oatmeal from her toes.  He
felt his penis starting to grow again as he stuck out his tongue and
touched it to his mother's toes.  He licked long and good, It took some
time to finish.  It was almost a half-hour later when he did finish.  His
mother still moaning from the sensations of sheer sick dominance.

"Good boy," his mother praised, glancing under the table to confirm he was
done.  He glowed at her smile of approval, then yelped as her foot pressed
against his lips.

"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... you will pay."

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.

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.

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. 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 snacks.  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.  Billy 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 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 macaroni casserole
(basically macaroni and cheese).  He was totally shocked when after she was
done eating that she thanked him.  Then she took off each penny loafer she
wore and gently removed her knee high stockings and stepped right into the
hot casserole.  She allowed him to finish what was left as long as he ate
it off her feet.

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?"

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!

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 removed a
pair of low-heeled black leather boots which were on the ground near her
and she had on black 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 feet and toes.

They gave off a strong, musty odor, foot sweat and shoe leather combined in
a smell which overpowered Billy.  He wanted them.  And 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 slather his
tongue over her nyloned foot.

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 foot.  "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."

He saw the older woman smile and then it finally sank in.  Ms 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 feet, making him lick all the harder.

"Mmmmn," Ms 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," Ms Jacobi said with an all-knowing tone. "I've
done things in my life time you might only dream of.  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.  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. 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 lick across the nylon
mesh of her foot, reveling in the heady smell of shoe and foot; boon and
bane to him, desire.  Kathy felt that familiar dampness between her legs as
he licked.

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