My alarm sounds at 7am and I rise from my bed. I’m a bit sore, but overall pleased at the cause. You see, as of last night I became a slave whore to my son and daughter (Texas Momma Whore Ch 1-3).
I move to my bathroom and seeing the shaving cream and razor, fondly remember my daughter shaving away my pubic hair last night. I step into the shower and take stock of my situation. Last night was the first time I have had sex with another person since my husband died in an accident three years ago. His untimely death was totally devastating to the kids and me. Being younger, they were able to learn to cope with the loss much better than me.
My husband was a very successful investment banker. As such, I never had to work and stayed home to raise the kids, our daughter Stacy and our son Isaac. As fate would have it, my husband was very over insured. I also collected a rather large settlement in the lawsuit that I filed because of his death. The company where he worked was very supportive. With their continued assistance, I have made investments that insure the children and I will never have to worry about money for the rest of our lives.
What I did have to worry about was getting on with the rest of my life. My husband was raised in a family where the women were dutiful, actually submissive to the men. My own mother had raised me in this fashion so I was extremely happy when we were married. However, being a very creative and smart man, my husband found ways to expand on the duties he expected of me.
It was nothing for him to have some of his friends over and have me strip for them to show off my body. I would then be required to service each of them under my husband’s watchful eye. At any time should I fail to please him, even in front of guests, he would punish me. By the end of our first year of marriage I was comfortable with my place and enjoyed serving my husband and doing as he wished. I would never complain or say no. I truly loved him. Then he was taken away from me. So for the last three years I sat around becoming increasingly depressed. I longed to be directed, controlled. I needed to be used, to feel wanted in the manner I had grown accustom.
I climb from the shower, cleaned up the bathroom, made my bed, and went to the kitchen wearing a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. Stacy and Isaac gave me no instructions for the morning, so I started to try to get the house as clean as possible from the activities the night before.
We lived in a modest home in San Antonio. The house was actually paid for before my husband passed and I just decided to stay there. Although we had plenty of money, I always stayed safe being frugal when I shopped. Yes, there were some splurges on birthdays and at Christmas, but for the most part, we lived a normal middle class life, even though my bank account would put me closer to upper class.
I sat at the table sipping a cup of coffee wondering how much control the kids would actually take. I did have one thing that I would not tell them. I had a secret bank account with $100,000 in it. So even if they wasted away all the other money, I knew I would still have money to live on. That left me free to consider what other changes they would make.
A little after ten they came down the stairs. I stood to greet them and Stacy took my purse from the table and opened it. She thumbed through my pocket book and pulled out several credit cards and my driver’s license.
“We’re going shopping. We’ll be back in three hours. Be ready to go out then. Dress conservatively. And for God’s sake clean this pig pen up,” she told me walking out the door.
I heard our old Chevy start up and rumble down the driveway before heading down the street. I looked around and wondered what pigpen she was talking about. I move down the hall and find a note on her door.
“Clean both bedrooms and the bathroom. Bag all the clothes you find on the floor and have the Mission pick them up. If you know what is good for you, you will do a good job.”
I open her door and see her room is totally trashed with clothes all over the floor. As I look around, I realize that she has taken almost all the clothes out of her closet and dresser and thrown them on the floor. That would explain why they were going shopping. For new clothes. The same condition was found in Isaac’s room. I also noticed that the screen saver on his computer was a picture of me he took the night before with me licking my own pussy juice from my fingers.
With only three hours, I got busy and bagged all the clothes and put them in the garage. I made a note to remind myself to have them picked up the next week. With the clothes picked up, the rooms weren’t in very bad shape and I got them straightened quickly. The bathroom was another story. The floor was wet and there were towels and bottles everywhere. It took an hour just to clean that mess up. I looked at my watch and literally ran to my bedroom to change, putting on a pair of jeans and a nice top. With sneakers on my feet, I went back to the kitchen just as the Chevy pulled in the drive.
The door opened and Isaac and Stacy walk in, almost ignoring me. They both go to the refrigerator and grab a cold drink before turning to me.
“We got some stuff in the car, whore. Go out and bring it in then we’ll get going,” Isaac tells me.
The back seat and trunk of the car are filled with boxes and bags. For the most part I can tell which room to put them in from the stores they were purchased from. I get all the packages out and return to the kitchen. Stacy is sitting at the table smoking a cigarette, a habit I didn’t even know she had. Isaac was standing by the sink leaning back against the counter.
Stacy takes a drag from the cigarette and blows the smoke in my direction looking at me, something her Father used to do to me.
“Isaac is a bit anxious this morning, whore. Get over there and suck his cock so he will calm down for awhile,” she instructs me.
