Evolution

My life was full. Too full, it seemed, to move forward. It seems disingenuous to imagine my life being enhanced in any meaningful way, since I seemed to have it all. I had two successful businesses and four women that would do anything I asked.

Asked seems to be the wrong word. In my position, I requested nothing. I gave orders, and they were carried out to my satisfaction, or there were consequences. I was challenged often, especially in my early days. Individually and collectively, my mother and sisters would intentionally test me.

Being dominant without being abusive is a fine line. I did what I did out of love. I had respect for my position. I found myself within specific self imposed guidelines. I never acted out of anger, and I made it my rule to never react to anything in any forum.

Reaction is a good thing in limited cases. You need the ability to react in situations like war, sports or emergency. In real life, people far too often react rather than respond. I always took the time to respond. I thought about the words or event before I ever answered it.

Once my family determined that this was my strength, the challenges to my position became fewer and less intense. There was a lot of sex, bondage, discipline and pain, but there was also a shift. I was called on for advice and council. The women usually took my decisions as final, but I also had some emotional outbursts and fighting.

Getting any measure of outside help proved to be more of a problem than an asset. I was as anonymous as I could make myself when I went about getting answers I was seeking. Some were about general rules and codes of conduct and some were about specific issues.

I found that people can be more judgmental than friendly. Certain people seemed to have a specific, preconceived idea of exactly what a master was. Any deviation from the guidelines they had set in their minds was unacceptable to them.

I found myself alone in my world. I kept my wits about me, and always tried to do what I thought was the right thing, rather than the instinctive or self indulgent thing. There were ups and downs, but I felt that we had grown closer and I felt more loved than I ever had.

Heidi wanted a tattoo. I'm sure it was more team spirit than personal desire, but once she decided on it, she came to me. It was never a condition of our relationship that she clear such things with me. I doubt if she even had this type of request for approval with dad.

My sister knew that I had good judgement, and sought my approval about many issues, large and small. In this case, she played soccer in college, and her team had gone undefeated during the regular season. A few of the star players decided to have their numbers permanently inked on their bodies.

One part of her thought the idea was cool, and she got caught up in peer pressure. A few were getting the numbers just over their breast, one high up on her arm, two were incorporating them into tramp stamps on the lower back, and one low on her belly, just at her bikini line, off to one side. I noted that there was no uniformity to their design. It made me think this was not a good idea.

I'm sure that in her mind I didn't consider her request for a sufficient length of time before rejecting it. She went through her emotional bag of tricks. She was angry, sad, pouted like a little girl, cried, yelled and told me that she was old enough to do whatever she wanted.

I agreed with her last statement, and I told her so. She smiled and looked at me in triumph, her eyes burning with victory. She tossed her long hair and sat up in her chair. We sat across from each other at the heavy dining room table, staring at each other. Mom hovered in the background, taking in everything.

"However, if you want to continue to be a part of the family as it is now, you'll take my advice."

I swept my arm across the table, indicating the total of the house and all that our lives had become.

"If you choose to ignore me, I will take it as a personal insult."

Her sweet victory turned sour in her mouth. Her eyes narrowed in defiance. She listened intently, searching for a flaw in my reasoning.

"I have reasons that I would be happy to share. Right now, permanently marking your body seems like the thing to do. Your friends are doing it, it looks cool and sexy, and it might seem like the perfect way to express yourself."

I stared her down, feeding every argument and reason back to her.

"Once you have one, chances are you'll want another one. Some women like the pain. There are a lot of reasons that people want a tattoo. It draws attention to you. You can put it in a hidden place, like your own secret that you can reveal when you choose to."

Heidi looked up at me with her best little girl eyes. A slight smile played across her face and she was blushing a little. I had hit on a reason or reasons she liked the idea of getting inked. I could have narrowed it down until I had the primary desire in her mind and hammer away at it, but my reason took me in a different direction.

"I have heard that possession is 9/10's of the law. You've probably heard that too. I don't know if that is true. I do know that perception is 9/10's of the law. I am liberal in many ways, but when I see a girl with tattoos, my mind describes her to me in a way that is not necessarily positive."

Now Heidi's eyes darkened. It looked like someone pulled a cloud over her face. She also tensed and went defensive.

"She might be a bright beautiful girl, talented and with extremely high morals. Her outward appearance reflects that she is trying to draw attention to herself, and not in a positive way. To me, she appears easy and cheap, a slut waiting to be used and abused."

Heidi's mouth opened. I held up my hand.

"I didn't say that it was right or fair. If I perceive her that way, others also see her that way. We face enough challenges in life. We do not intentionally narrow our choices and options by doing destructive things to ourselves."

Heidi's mouth closed as she finally fought her instinct to argue her point.

"People get tattoos for emotional reasons. Use your head. Think about it. Think about the future. I'm not talking about the lame and stupid arguments about your body changing."

A flush came over my sister's face. She was the baby of the family, and used to getting her own way. I was making her think. Part of her liked it, and part of her hated it.

"Weak people make weak arguments, and one of them is that when you get pregnant, or things begin to fall, or you gain weight, your tattoos will become blobs that no one wants to look at. Fortunately, you have good genes, and I'd never give you that argument."

With this, I looked over at mom for the first time. She had a smile of pride on her face. It could have been the complement of her passing on good genes or something else. In any case, she was swelled with pride.

"No, I'm talking about your kids. People can't help making judgements about other people. You and your kids will be judged by how you look. Teachers, principals and other parents will determine what kind of a role model you are based on how you look."

I looked at my sister, a long hard look. She had light, long hair and her big blue eyes made her look even younger than her 21 years. Her breasts were small on her athletic body, but I could still see her chest rise and fall with the angry breaths she took. I kept my voice level and commanding.

"Don't put yourself in that position. Don't put your kids in that position. Just don't do it. If you must, get a temporary one when you feel the urge and let yourself grow out of it."

Heidi blinked as my words began to take effect. Before she could respond, I continued.

"The real issue is defending yourself. Sometime, someone is going to question you about this. You will be in a position where you have to admit stupidity or defend your position. Being in either of these situations is not good."

We both considered the next move. Sometimes I was playing a chess game. Other times, I was disciplining unruly children. Heidi had spoken out harshly to me during this encounter, and I knew I'd have to address it.

"For now, think about it and make your own decision. In my mind, you're acting like a child. Children throw a tantrum when they don't get their way. They also want what they want, and they want it now."

I never broke eye contact with her, although her face flushed and she was looking for the opportunity to turn away from my words and stare.

"I expect more from you. I expect you to use your head. I do not expect you to ever act on impulse. You will not address me disrespectfully or subject me to your attitudes. You will be reminded of this."

There was no mistaking the finality of my words. I had put my sister on notice that she would answer for her tone, and I wouldn't be surprised if a shiver ran through her at this. Whether it was a shiver of dread or excitement, I didn't know. I rose slowly. I gave her ample opportunity to speak. Heidi said nothing. My words played over in her mind.

I'm sure she was in rebellion mode. She wanted what she wanted, and had every legal right to do what she wanted. I put the questions away. This was a case where I did not want to replay the past or guess about the future. I simply turned and left the room.

In my life, challenges rarely come along one at a time. Mine come in multiples. My bed was unmade. This was unacceptable, and mom knew it. She never did anything by chance. She left things askew on purpose from time to time, indicating that she wanted my undivided attention, and was inviting swift and severe punishment.

If I knew my mother, she had been twitching all day. Her pussy was probably soaked and her nipples hard as stone in anticipation of what I would do to her at finding my bed unmade. She was most likely using every ounce of self control to sit still while I talked to my sister.

My punishments had varied widely. I had come up with some inventive tortures for her, and she had great appreciation for my imagination. I didn't want to repeat myself, and kept a journal of sorts on what I had done to each woman. It was under lock and written in my own shorthand.

It had been a long day at work, and I had started a new project. I needed to refresh myself. I was worn physically and mentally but not sexually. Although mom had woken me in her typical way, by sucking my cock and licking my balls, I hadn't cum. In fact, I hadn't cum for a few days, which was quite unusual.

Jenn, my older sister, was away on assignment on a story at the state capitol. The story had local ties, and she called every day to give us updates. The television job was taking more of her time, but she loved it and was making a lot of money. I hadn't seen her for a week and didn't expect her back for a few more days.

Heidi had come over the previous weekend for some action, and I had some suspicions about her activities at school. I had planned on addressing it today, but her tattoo bomb had changed that. I made a mental note to summon her back home soon to talk to her.

Jackie, younger than me but older than Heidi, considered herself the middle child. I guess she was the middle sister, but we were both the middle kids, although my being male within this female framework cancelled out the middle child syndrome. Jackie had been there on Tuesday, and I had fucked her hard.

Jackie turned me on. She played the game well. Being a college cheerleader and very girly, she knew that guys checked her out. She never sought their attention, but wasn't beyond using her sexuality in a fun and flirty way.

Jackie was different from most college girls. She had her share of jeans and shorts, but I rarely saw them. She was in a dress or skirt when she visited, and when she attended her classes. She was a good girl, at least outside of home.

My sister could indulge her sexuality and fantasies in a safe environment. Therefore, she never sought out sexual partners at school. She preferred to be friends, and her dating, if you could call it that, was more like friends gathering for a night out.

At home, she was a different animal. Jackie was a clever girl, and had adapted the conditions of our lifestyle to suit her personality. Heidi was like a bull, charging straight ahead until I stopped her. Jenn was subtle, and would accumulate points in her mind for minor infractions that would add up.

Jenn would interrupt conversations, speak over others, walk in on people, seemingly forgetting the rules and making herself an annoyance. She would be like a fly buzzing around; not worth chasing, but would be swatted the second she landed. Or when the points added up high enough. I could tell when she was ready to land and be swatted, and she usually got her wish.

Jackie was a girl that didn't break the rules. Chances were pretty good that she would never get a speeding or parking ticket. She worked strictly within set parameters. This was a problem for her in our lifestyle. She wanted to be punished. She had a desire to be manhandled and taken sexually.

You really can't punish someone that never breaks the rules. I visited her at school and ran into her in town many times. Her skirts were never too short, and she always wore a bra. She never wore too much makeup, and she never swore in public or acted like a slut.

She worked on being like Heidi, but it didn't work for her personality. She even asked mom for advice, and even together couldn't come up with a convincing way for her to appear deserving of punishment. She was smart, and hit on her own way of getting attention.

She walked in one day in a far too short skirt. She bent over after purposely accidentally dropping her keys, and she wasn't wearing underwear. She jiggled as she walked, wearing a far too small, thin shirt that clearly showed her nipples. This was my sister, but I got hard immediately. I had rarely seen Jackie braless.

She knew I wouldn't approve, and she even stepped up her game by acting the way she dressed, sitting with her legs open, bending over to give me a clear view down her shirt, and rubbing herself. The thought of her out in public like this brought her swift and severe punishment. Rather that being a deterrent, she showed up a week or so later in even a smaller and sluttier outfit.

The third time, I caught her. She was dressed perfectly when she drove up to the house. I just happened to look out the window and saw her walk up to the house. I was waiting a long time for her to come in, and she was a different person. The girl that drove up to the house wore a brown, mid thigh curduroy skirt, white ankle socks with tennis shoes, and a white sweatshirt.

The slut that walked into the house wore a black skirt that barely covered her ass, sandals and a sleeveless pink satin blouse, tied just under her breasts, open and unbuttoned. Jackie was slutting herself up before coming in. She would never wear this is public, but wanted me to think she would. I had new appreciation for my sister.

Jackie called on Monday, saying that she would be coming over the next day. Later, I found that she was loving this part of the game. It turned her on to plan out a special look. Mom was in on the game, and they would conspire together and giggle like schoolgirls. Mom spent most of her time naked or nearly so, so she lived this fantasy through Jackie. It was like having a slutty Halloween party every week or so.

My sister showed up as what can best be described as a sleazy angel. She was dressed totally in white. Her mini skirt was so thin that I could make out her pussy lips through the fabric. The top was the same, and her nipples were on display. She wore white thigh high hose and white heels. The tops of the stockings stopped six inches below her pussy or the hem of the skirt, depending on how she was standing.

She walked straight up to me and gave me a kiss and a greeting, patting my cock. She walked up to mom and gave her a much longer, deeper kiss, reaching down to finger mom's pussy lips. While mom's mouth was used on a regular basis, I only used her pussy or ass now and then, no more or less than I used my sisters.

It kept things fair in my mind, and avoided either of us getting bored by the same activity. As a result, mom pushed her pussy into my sister's fingers, letting out a small moan. Jackie's fingers came away wet, and she licked them clean. Jackie turned and looked at me with a smile.

"You went out in public dressed like that?"

It was actually more of a statement than a question. I had to suppress a smile as I said it. I knew from experience that it was one of her favorite things to be put over my knee, and I decided to indulge her. I sat in the big armchair and gestured her to me.

Jackie stood in front of me and arched her back just enough that her skirt came up. Her pussy lips, puffy and full, were clearly in view. I reached out and pinched her nipple, pulling her to me. I have found that if you have a slut by the nipples, their hearts and minds will follow.

I drew her to me, until she was laying across my lap, face down. Her ass was exposed already, but I made a point of pulling the skirt up, fully exposing her ass to me. My hand came down hard on her ass.

"I know I told you about this. You will get your ass whipped if I catch you going out without panties."

I don't know if she knew I knew, but it didn't matter. Jackie was caught between feelings. She wanted this. She needed this. She loved this. I doubt if she would ever be able to get to the root of her desire, but at this moment, it didn't matter. Her whole being responded to the total release of giving herself over to me.

Her ass hot and red when the last of twenty hard slaps landed. Her breath was coming hard and fast. I was in a mood that I couldn't describe. Every now and then, something spurred me to a different place. To the women, I'm sure it was many things, torture, foreplay, masturbation or something else. To me, it didn't need a name or a description.

Jackie's legs came open then she felt my hand on the inside of her thigh. She opened herself to me, her breathing turning to the caught breath of anticipation. I decided I didn't like this position and shoved Jackie off of my lap. She rolled off, landing on her ass, and quickly scrambled to her knees in front of me.

With gestures rather than words, I had her stand and remove her skirt and shirt. I pointed mom to join us. I moved from the chair to the couch, sitting in the center. I pointed to my lap and Jackie went into the same position. I told her to turn over.

She was laying across my lap, face up. I told my mother to remove Jackie's shoes, leaving her in the white stockings. I pulled my sister's arms down straight to her sides.

"Do not move your hands."

It is one thing to restrain someone from moving. It is quite another to force them to restrain themselves. It is instinct to reach out, to touch, fondle, stroke, squeeze or in some way engage another. Jackie would have difficulty with this. I looked at mom.

"Keep her mouth occupied."

I had Jackie positioned in a way that her pussy was just to the right of my center. I could see her pussy lips, spread slightly, in position for my right hand. My left was just over her breast. Both hands went into action at once.

I slapped my hand down full, low on her belly, even as I pinched her nipple. Her hands shot up. My stern voice.

"Do not move your hands."

Jackie let out a whimper as mom lowered her lips and kissed her daughter. I watched the women kiss, rubbing my hand over my sister's belly, absently playing with her nipples. I squeezed her breasts fully, pinched her nipples and pulled up on them.

Little moans and whimpers came from my sister's lips, engaged as they were with kissing that was becoming deeper and more intense. Mom was stroking Jackie's face, putting her hand under her neck to draw her face up, and pulling her hair. Jackie had my hand on one breast and her mother's hand on the other. I was pulling and twisting her nipple, while mom squeezed and flicked her fingernails over the erect nipple, occasionally, scratching her nails over the whole breast.