Matriarch

'Unless you're into pain. Then, fuck up as much as you want. You are at the bottom. Any of us can use or punish you for any reason.'

Jackie took the lead, guiding her aunt and cousin toward what she considered the best versions of themselves. Heidi and I gave our opinions, and were largely ignored. This was Jackie's arena and she took charge. The transformation was stunning. Jackie worked them through her own version of a tutorial about the proper way to apply their make up and how to dress to present themselves.

Lisa and Tish stared into full length mirrors. They didn't recognize the versions of themselves that appeared before them. Jackie came in and out, occasionally giving a nod of approval or muttering, 'Wrong', removing and replacing items of clothing. In the end, there were a volume of bags at the front, and a very happy sales clerk ringing their purchases. In all, we had gone through many stores, and we all were getting tired.

Jackie wasn't done. We stopped again, and both women got waxed. Slowly, they were becoming accustomed to the nudity expected of them. Their discomfort was evident as they lay on the table, naked from the waist down, a young girl applying hot wax and ripping away hair. The girl obviously had seen it all before, and went about her work gloved and with a mask over her face with clinical indifference.

Both women on the tables tried hard to maintain their composure, even when gloved hands applied lotion to their pink and puffy lips. She took her time inspecting for stray hairs and she was very thorough. The women were poked and prodded and plucked until not a single hair appeared from waist to toes. We all took turns inspecting the girl's work, rubbing the most sensitive areas just to watch their reactions.

Once back in the car, Jackie spoke.

'One more stop'.

When we pulled up in front of a tattoo parlor, shock registered on 3 faces. I have to admit, I was as surprised as my sister and niece. Discomfort had been the theme of their day, since the back of the SUV was piled high with clothing, but not a single bra or pair of panties had been purchased. They were shifting around and walking carefully, all too aware of their breasts free under the blouses and hairless mounds under the skirts.

Inside, Jackie motioned to Lisa.

'Take off your shirt'.

Lisa stared blankly, uncomprehending.

'Don't make me repeat myself'.

The memory of my punishment from the night before must have flooded her mind, because she quickly pulled off her top. Jackie reached out and caught a nipple between her thumb and forefinger. She squeezed hard.

'This one'.

The big tattooed man just nodded and slipped on a pair of rubber gloves.

"Which ones?'

'One'.

Jackie corrected him. She pointed and the man pulled out a gold earring. Well, I guess it was actually a nipple ring. Lisa seemed stunned. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Jackie stepped up and hissed in Lisa's ear.

'One word and I'll have him put the other one on your clit and you'll get some real pain'.

My sister nodded and resigned to her fate. It seemed scary, but in the end was really a non event. The nipple was caught between some kind of forceps, some alcohol was applied, a needle was pushed through. There was a drop of blood, wiped away and the nipple ring followed the needle. A few words of instruction and a small instruction paper handed over and it was done.

Jackie exchanged a few hushed words with the man. He was a big man, covered in tattoos. I'd guess he was a biker. He just had that air about him. She came over to me.

'Tip the man'.

I blinked and looked over at the smiling man. He was unbuttoning his jeans and I got the message. With everyone watching, I fished out his cock and balls. I decided to make it a show. My sister and niece stared wide eyed as I sucked the man's balls and worked my mouth over his thick cock. Heidi and Jackie looked on in a ho hum manner. They had seen me put to the task of being a tip many times.

I tried to make it last a little while, but the man was quick on the trigger. He came in my mouth. Heidi touched my head and gestured at my sister.

'Share'.

I stood from my crouched position and kissed my sister, shoving my cum covered tongue in her mouth. After a few minutes, we both swallowed the stranger's load between us. Heidi poked my sister.

'Clean him up'.

It was more than the man expected. Lisa didn't move, at least not fast enough for Heidi. She grabbed my sister's hair and pushed her down, until my sister's mouth was inches from the deflating cock. She was slow, but caught on fast enough, licking and sucking the remaining cum from his soft cock.

We left without another word.

The new women in the family seemed to be adjusting to a new way of life. They had handed over control of their sex lives to my son, and followed orders without question. There were questions in my mind about risk and reward. I really wanted to know how and why they agreed to this lifestyle without a minute of hesitation.

Early on, with my husband, I wrestled with the questions of nature vs nurture. Were we genetically predisposed to be dominated or were we raised in an environment that invited control and punishment? I never did figure it out for myself. My husband gave me a series of opportunities and exits from this life over the years. I stayed because I wanted to. For all of the punishment, I felt a sincere love between us.

Nothing in either of our families ever led me to believe that anyone else in either family lived this way. They could have been good at hiding it, but I had different ideas. I watched them fight and complain and question themselves many times over the years. Some fights were legendary, and more than once, I was aware that someone was prepared for walking away, divorce, affairs and more. We, as a couple, had no such issues.

It wasn't as though he said and I did. There were times like that, but we discussed many things. I found I had as much input as anyone could expect. The advantages were obvious to me, even if people on the outside didn't get it. At the end of the day, here was no wrestling for control. My husband, my master, had the final word.

I found that I was accepting of this. I won some and I lost some, but there was no lingering resentment. When I wanted to do things in a certain way, we would consider all of the options. He would make the decisions after weighing the options, a decision would be made and we would move toward goals together.

We looked on, with amused indifference, at other couples and their issues. Their opinions on subjects made no impression on us. They would jump on any rumor or small piece of evidence, coming to conclusions unsupported by facts. We would hear about women being abused, kids running wild, infidelity and crime. The rumor mill with certainty, came to a decision, who was at fault, what had happened, what the outcome would be. They were positive that their theories were correct, and most times, they were wrong.

The wife who showed up with a bruised face was being abused by her husband. My master listened to my gossip story and suggested I not perpetuate the rumor. I can still remember his words.

'We don't know, and what we don't know, we don't know'.

In my mind, this was simple, yet complex. It turned out that the teen daughter had hit the mother in a fit of rage. None of the stories that were spread through our circle turned out to be true. Everyone was certain of what had happened, where the event would take them or what the outcome would be. In the end, not a single part of the gossip mill turned out to be true. After this fact came out, people changed their narrative to fit the new information, and were still wrong. Not one ever admitted to being wrong. They just moved on to the next piece of gossip in a never ending chain of assumptions and innuendo.

We laughed sometimes about what people would think if they caught us in the middle of one of our events. My husband, my partner, my master, my lover had my full consent and approval. I needed and craved a clear set of rules and guidelines, and I was better off for being punished for infractions. Despite the bumper stickers, shit didn't just happen in our world. We prepared, set a direction and adjusted as needed.

The only problem I ever realized when we met like couples were changes in temperament. Masters would soften over time, and submissives would take advantage of seeing a crack in the armor. Weakness would be exploited, and couldn't recover. Even in consensual relations, the submissive, over time, would convince themselves that they had been fearful, were being abused and controlled and suffered Stockholm Syndrome.

Anything to get out of taking responsibility for personal choices. The blame game. I never assumed anything. The stories told could be true or false. The person on the bottom could very well have been living in fear and could have been abused. I reserved any opinion until I felt I had the entire story, not the opinions of outsiders or a 'he said, she said' rumor that put me in a position to take sides without being certain.

As a result, my life was good. Any attempt to exploit my situation was met with a swift attitude adjustment. I found myself playing games that would invite attention. I can't speak for anyone else, but I know that I was never abused, never a victim. I was a consenting partner in a consensual alternative lifestyle.

I think I realized early on that the submissive actually holds the power in our lifestyle. These thoughts ran through my mind often. A part of this was making assessments of people I met that were in certain roles. I looked over my family and wondered how some things would play out as personalities rejected or accepted their position.

Over the next few months, many things played out.