"This floor is fucking filthy!!"
My nose is being rubbed in it. Literally.
Holding my hair tightly, Matthew - my husband - is showing me how useless I am. I cleaned the floor earlier this morning, but my two boys - Luke, who is 19 and Mark, who is 20 - came back from football and dragged mud all over it again. When Matthew saw it, he slapped me accross the face, knocking me to the floor. Now he is teaching me a lesson.
"Why won't you learn?" he yells at me. "You know what the rules are! Now, you get this fucking mess cleaned up, or else you're gonna end up with a lot more than a stinging face. Do you understand?"
"Yes sir," I whimper. "I promise. The floor will be clean, and dinner ready by the time you and the boys get home tonight."
Matthew grunts and releases me. As quickly as I can, I scamper to collect the bucket and scrubbing brush. I get down on my hands and knees and start scrubbing the floor. If it's not sparkling clean, my husband will beat me. The hard floor hurts my knees, and my arms quickly become sore and tired from the hard work. The cleaning chemicals make me woozy because my head is down so close to the dirty floor.
Mark, my eldest son, enters the room and stands over me. He has something in his hand. My heart sinks when I realise what it is. I tense up, knowing what is coming.
"Hey dad, mom's not wearing her collar!"
"So put it on her, dumb-ass!"
Mark grabs me by my hair and pulls me up, onto my knees. He holds the collar under my nose.
"Dopey slut! What's this?" he booms, inches from my ear.
"It's, uh... It's my collar," I answer nervously.
"And why the fuck aren't you wearing it?" he demands.
"I'm so sorry, I forgot! Your father made me clean the floor when I got up this morning, and I forgot to put it on. I'm sorry, Mark!"
I try hard not to cry. He slaps me, and fastens my collar around my neck. "You know you're just a dirty bitch."
I guiltily nod in agreement. He stands, and I go back to scrubbing.
"We're leaving," father announces. The boys file past me towards the door. Mark pretends to "accidentally" knock my bucket over with his foot. Soapy water spills all over me and across the floor I just cleaned.
"Oh, whoops! Gee, sorry mom," he says sarcastically, without looking at me. His brother laughs at him as they walk out the door. My husband smirks.
"When that little slut daughter of yours gets back from work, you make sure she cleans herself up for us, before we get home. You too. I don't want to come back, and find you looking like you do now."
"Yes sir," I answer obediently as the door slams shut, leaving me all alone.
I spend the next several hours cleaning the house from head to toe. It will be filthy again by tomorrow, but the rules are the rules. My husband will be furious if anything isn't done. Really, I should be grateful. I am lucky to have him. Such a dirty, stupid slut like me would never be of any use to anyone in the real world. I know my place.
Finally, Tracey gets back from work. Tracey is my daughter. She turned eighteen just two months ago. I greet her at the door. She looks very pretty in her tight mini skirt, midriffe and high-heels.
"How much did you make today, sweetheart?"
"Only three hundred," she laments, taking the money out of her handbag.
"Only six tricks today? Did you stick your chest and your ass out like I showed you?"
"Yes, mommy. Business was just a little slow today, thats all."
"Okay, dear. Well, you give the money to me, and go get yourself cleaned up. You know how daddy hates to find sperm in your pussy that isn't his. Is it very messy today?"
"Yeah," my teenage daughter answers, lifting up her skirt to show me the sticky, wet crotch of her panties. "I didn't get enough time to scoop it out between the last three jobs. They were friends, and they took me one after the other. They said they didn't care. After the last guy finished, I had to rush to catch my bus."
"Thank heavens daddy had your tubes tied. Can you imagine how angry he would be if you ever got pregnant?"
"I got cum on the bus seat, too, and the driver told me off. He made me give him a blowjob."
"For free? Oh no, dear, don't tell daddy or he'll have a fit."
"I'm sorry, I didn't have any choice. He said he'd have to pay to get it cleaned."
"Nevermind. Just go and get ready. I have to start dinner."
I count the money and put it in my apron pocket. Tracey goes to the shower.
After a little while, Tracey comes into the kitchen wearing white high-heels, stockings, garter belt, split-crotch panties and a flimsy, lacy bra. Her blond hair is brushed, and up in pig tails. Her make-up makes her look like a little girl.
"Do I look okay?" she asks apprehensively.
"Lovely, darling. Did you clean out your vagina and your asshole? Come over here."
I have to make sure she's done a good job. I kneel down in front of her and stick my finger up into her vagina, take it out, look at it, smell it and taste it. Then I do the same for her ass. They're nice and clean, but some fine, silky hair has begun to come up.
"You better go give it a quick shave. You know how daddy likes his girls nice and bald." My daughter goes back to the bathroom and shaves herself.
"Is this okay, mommy?" she asks when she returns, showing me her pussy.
"Yes dear, much better," I answer, running my fingers over her soft, smooth skin. Now, keep an eye on dinner for me while I go and get ready."
I hurry off to the shower, strip, and step under the hot, rushing water. I scrub and scrub, making sure that I am nice and clean for the men. I take special care to clean inside my pussy and my anus. Once, my son, Luke got shit on his dick after butt-fucking me, and he hit me so hard I cried. Then he made me lick my shit off his penis. I deserved that. Matthew always tells me and Tracey to clean ourselves properly before they use us. We must try harder to please them.
I shave my pussy and go to my room to get dressed. I put on the lingerie and high heels my husband has instructed me to wear, and put my apron back on. Then I sit down at the mirror to put on my make-up and fix my hair. Nice and slutty-looking, just the way Matthew and the boys like it.
The table is set, dinner is ready. Tracey and I have eaten already. We are not permitted to eat at the table with the men. Soon, I hear the car pull up outside. Doors slam and I hear my husband and the boys talking and laughing.
"They're here, Tracey," I tell my daughter, as I go to the door.
Tracey takes her place on the couch in the living room, in clear view of the table in the adjoining dining room where the men will be eating. I get ready to open the door to greet them. I tense up a little. This is always an anxious moment. If anything is not up to Matthew's standards, or if dinner is no good, then there will be trouble. I breifly check my make-up in the hallway mirror, then open the door.
"Hello sir, hello boys," I bow my head respectfully. "Dinner is on the table." I am careful not to look anyone in the eye.
They file past, loudly talking and laughing. They smell of sweat and grime. Matthew quickly looks over the house. Then he and the boys sit down at the table. He smells the food.
"Good girl," he grunts, and smacks my ass.
"Thakyou sir," I reply with the appropriate humility.
The boys wait for father to start eating, and then they tuck in as well, ravenous. I stand at my husband's side as the family eats. I fetch drinks and condiments as they command.
"Where's your daughter's fuck-money?" Matthew demands, between mouthfulls.
"Here sir," I quickly take the money out of my apron and give it to him.
He shuffles the notes, counting as he chews his food. Then he begins to growl; "Three Hundred? Where's the rest? If you're stealing from me, you bitch-"
I suddenly become very nervous. "No! I promise, Matthew, It's all there! You know I would never steal from you!"
Matthew gets up and calmly, menacingly walks towards his teenage girl. He waves the money in her face.
"Whats the matter? Is this all your dirty little ass can pull these days?"
"I'm sorry, daddy! I'm trying my hardest! I promise!" she pleads with him, voice all high and squeaky.
The boys watch in anticipation from the table. Matthew senses his admiring audience, and decides to set a good example for them.