A Little Humiliation Never Hurt Anyone, Love

[EddieDavidson]

what I did was take the characters out - remove background then take generic images of the same location that I created and place them in it - it wasn't easy though.

[EddieDavidson]

“It’s not that it hurts – I am not a prissy little porcelain doll – I can roll with a little discomfort. It’s just humiliating, and Jack isn’t just filming us! He’s bossy and MEAN!” Joy complained. Mom didn’t seem to care. They both had a few of the cherries in their mouth while they spoke, so it was a bit of fun just listening to them try to talk and not let them drop.

“A little meanness never hurt anybody, Love! Isn’t that what you told me at lunch? Just roll with it – your brother is in charge, I don’t mind him being assertive, and honestly, you are not all in on modeling,” Mum observed.

No one ever said we had to be “all in” until that moment – now Mum acted like this was all our idea or something.

“All in? I am naked, doing everything I am told, and Jack’s never happy with me!” she added.

Jack was right behind Joy, snapping pics and ignoring her criticism – letting Mum do the talking.

“Look, your brother has high standards, wants us to live up to them! I’ve no hard feelings about it, and he talks down to me, as well! If I can do it, you can suck it up, Buttercup! Don’t like a little tough talk, then tough titty, too bad, so sad! You are no worse for the wear, and I’ve seen you smiling, so don’t act like a broken wing dove all of a sudden.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t have my feelings hurt!” Joy pouted – trying not to look like she was playing the victim all along, but realizing mum had a point.

“You? the Ice Princess? Since when did you care if you hurt anyone else’s feelings? If anything, you should have your feelings hurt, so you can see how you make other’s feel,” Mum added unflinchingly. “You said if I am willing to be treated like one of the girls – you’d be treated the same, he talks to all of us the same – so a little meanness won’t hurt!” Mum got annoyed and flustered and repeated back again what my sister had said to her during lunch.

“I just don’t see why this gets you off! This is the weirdest thing I’ve ever done in my life, and I’ve done some weird stuff.”

“You’ve already got the cherry up your bum, and you are already squatting – stop whinging!”

“I am not whinging!” Joy sucked in air in sudden surprise as she pulled her shoulders back. Jack found the cherry and popped it back up her a-hole. I’d imagine he pushed it in a might further things time because my sister’s eyes grew extra wide.

“Drop it again, and don’t immediately pop it back in. You might be whining,” Jack suggested. “You are my model – hold your cheeks apart, chin up! You can complain when we are done. You need to learn teamwork with the other girls – stop working against Joanne to get cherries faster – take turns!”

“You pull that cherry back out with your tongue, Jack, and chew it up like a good little boy. How’s that for teamwork?” she winked at him, but it was pure crass snark – classic Joy Marsh. It wasn’t defiant because she let him do it – but it was like even though he had the power, she wasn’t going to let him know she was intimidated.

"You have a hairy cherry in your dairy hole, and still you act like your shit smells of roses? Hold it open nice and wide—let me get it from a few angles. I’ll make sure to share it with the cheese maker over tea. Keep joking like that, and maybe you’ll get a real reward... though I’m sure you’ll have plenty to chew on by then. And no, Joy—I won’t make you eat the cherry. Unless you beg."

I recognized what Jack just did. I would have taken the bait and told my sister that I thought I was feeding the cherry to her mouth and pretended I couldn’t tell her face from her ass. We would have started an insulting match, and on and on, it would go.

Jack didn’t sink to her level or take the bait. He made her model it for him, said what he said about her, and then told her that she could still earn a treat – meaning he had the power to give it and take it away. I was impressed! I would never have thought of that.

“Joanne, you’ll still need to work on that posture—next time, I want you holding your head high, no slouching!” Jack said.

“Yes, Jack!” My mom preened happily and did as she was told.

“Good girl,” Jack rubbed her shoulders, and she smiled up at him.

Mum and Joy exchanged a quick glance but obeyed, shuffling into position beside me. Joy muttered something under her breath about "cherry-picking in the weirdest way possible," but Mum shot her a warning look that silenced any further complaints.

As I knelt there, still basically a human trash can for whipped cream and cherries, I could feel the absurdity of the scene sinking in. My big sister reached out first, her fingers fumbling as she tried to grab a cherry by the stem. Her nose brushed against Mum’s, smearing whipped cream across both their faces.

“Hold still, Joy!” Mum hissed, her own attempt just as clumsy. Their heads bumped lightly, and Joy let out an exasperated giggle.

Joy winced, rubbing her head where it had collided with Mum’s, her face already streaked with melting whipped cream. “Oh, bloody hell, Mum! Watch your great fat noggin next time, yeah? Fucking hell, it’s like wrestling a bull in a China shop!”

Joy being Joy, she was in pain so after lashing out Mum because of their accident and mutual pain, she lashed out at Jack. I was probably only spared because I had a mouth full of whip cream and was more like furniture than a person to the rest of them.

“I hope you’re enjoying the show, Jack. You getting off on watching us bash our bloody heads together, you pervy little git?”

Jack’s response was swift. He stepped forward and delivered a sharp slap to her backside! She yelped and held her bum – but didn’t get out of her squat.

“Don’t be a brat, Twinkle Toes!” Jack snapped, his tone firm but not cruel. “You deserved to bump your head—you weren’t taking turns. The two of you are like bloody seagulls fighting over a chip, instead of working as a team! And let me make one thing clear: I won’t tolerate any sass during modeling. And any time you call Joanne ‘Mum’ instead of her name? I’m going to pop you one until you get it right. Now, what’s her name?”

Mum snorted, half-amused by Joy’s startled reaction and half-focused on her task. Her own cherry-picking skills weren’t much better, but at least she avoided earning a slap—barely. When Jack’s hand hovered near her, she quickly adjusted her posture, muttering a breathless, “I’m trying, dear!”

They were both down in a squat – but their knees were not nearly as far apart as Jack expected me to hold mine! Double standards!

Joy rubbed her butt like it was this great wound that Jack gave her—though she was just being dramatic. Her cheeks weren’t even pink. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Seriously, it was one slap, and she was acting like he’d taken a belt to her. It made me think about the time I convinced a boyfriend to spank me with a hairbrush. I hated it—it stung like hell and left me gritting my teeth, swearing I’d never try that again. Maybe Joy felt the same, though she sure didn’t seem to mind embarrassing herself if it got her a little attention.

“Mum!” Joy whined, overplaying her indignation. “Jack can’t just slap our butts any time he wants, can he? That’s not modeling! This is starting to become BDSM or something!”

Mum sighed and glanced between Joy and Jack, clearly trying to tread carefully. “Jack, dear—I don’t mind a quick playful slap on the butt now and again—but Joy has a point. You can’t just smack us about during modeling, can you?”

Jack arched an eyebrow at Mum’s attempt to mediate and turned his attention squarely on Joy. “First of all, Joy, stop acting like I am a petulant child! You've a great big bubble butt - I am assuming women are born with such big butts because it’s expected you’ll need some padding for all the spankings you deserve that you don’t get!”

“Keep rubbing your turd cutter and see if I don’t put you over my knee!” Jack pulled Joy’s hand away from her bum. Joy’s a bit bigger than Jack, and I’ve seen her fight other girls at post-secondary – so I am not sure that Jack really wants to anger her that much! My sister can be a brat, but she’d been a good sport about the modeling all today! There had to be a limit to how much crap she was going to take from Jack today.

Mum gave a look of approval when Jack said that, but added, "I don’t mind a quick slap to my bum if I’m cheeky, but I’ve got a big bum and probably wouldn’t feel it much anyway, so it’s more a hit to my ego. But, Joy, what is BDSM?"

“C’mon, Muh...Joanne…” Joy corrected herself mid-word, still rubbing her bum like it smarted (when it didn’t—it was more like a hard tap). “Surely, you’ve heard of BDSM? Bondage? Whips and chains and leather? Sometimes I go to clubs in London and see people tied up and spanked, shoved in cages like dogs or ponies—even people having sex right there on stage!”

“Caw,” Mum said, her tone caught somewhere between shock and curiosity. “There’s nothing sexual about spanking to me—when I was growing up in Blackpool—”

“Oh crikey, not another Charles Dickens tale of the ancient age of Blackpool,” Joy interrupted, rolling her eyes. She exaggeratedly mimicked Mum’s enthusiastic tone, “In my day, we ate porridge, and girls only got it on Sundays, and we had to throw it up and spit it back in each other’s mouths, and you know what? We were grateful for it.”

“You’re making the case for a proper over-the-knee spanking,” Mum said, pursing her lips. “All I was going to say was that my parents didn’t believe in sparing the rod and spoiling the child, even for boys. If we were going to get the tawse, we had one room, so it was done right out in the open for everyone to learn the lesson when one of us needed an attitude adjustment. We didn’t have to strip completely; girls could keep their nightgowns on and just pull them up in the back. But everyone had a good laugh when it was me—I had a big dumper even back then.”

“What’s a tawse, Joanne?” Jack asked – clearly in awe. That was the Jack I knew and loved. He was Mum’s favorite precisely because he was respectful and asked questions and concerns. This blustering, swaggering tough guy thing was an act – and I think all three of us recognized Jack was just testing the waters.

I’d say that Jack was doing a fair job of the role he seemed to be thrust in simply by virtue that Mum considered anyone born with a penis to be superior to us who just have a slit and tits (well, in my case, a slit anyway). If I were in his place, I’d have been wishy-washy and trying to please everyone and getting consensus. I doubt I’d have come up with such humiliating games.

I’d probably let the power go to my head, though, and just start bossing everyone around like a female Napoleon. Jack seemed more restrained with his sudden authority to simply take a picture of us anyway he liked– like he knew it had to have some limit.

“You’ve never seen a tawse at school?” Mum looked genuinely surprised. She got a little nostalgic as she described it. “It’s a strap made of old leather with a worn wooden handle. It stings—puts a welt on your backside—but it’s not like it’s going to kill you. After twenty licks, even with a well-padded bum like mine, you’d feel it proper. It wasn’t done out of malice, though. If we sassed, made excuses, or got caught bickering, we’d answer for it. You’d be surprised how much harmony and peace it could buy. I swore when I had you lot, I’d never use one, but sometimes I think it would’ve made you girls less uppity—and less likely to go to clubs to watch it done for sport!”

Mum was flighty and absent-minded but come on! Everybody and their brother with the Internet had heard of dog collars, handcuffs, and riding crops. They sold that sort of stuff in Gatwick Airport, for crying out loud. I didn’t have much personal experience with it, because boys my age weren’t that creative, but I’d seen pictures of people in leather and read a few naughty stories. I wasn’t a total prude.

My sister looked down, unable to keep a straight face. “Joanne, do you really want to get spanked anytime he has a whim and just feels like making you bend over, tits on the table, bum up?”

“As far as I’m concerned," Mum continued, "Jack SHOULD be a bit hard on us during modeling. We need it. You girls are going to test his patience, push his buttons, and even call him names. If he thinks you need a spanking, then you bend over and let him give it to you. It won’t do more than sting your bottom pink and remind you that my name is Joanne now.” Mum giggled.

I couldn’t believe our Mum was saying JACK should be hard on the three of us – it was mad, I tell you.

“Oh c’mon, I’d have a bum that’s black and blue!” Joy predicted. “He could run us ragged!”

“Any time I step in the Fox and Hounds, I’ll get a pinch, or a smack on the bottom, even a goose now and again. It’s just something women like us have to endure for a few pints. And don’t tell me you haven’t had a finger poke up your skirt from some dirty old man. You’ve been to the tavern with me—I’ve seen you slap their faces!”

Mum seemed to find it shameful that we did that much to old men that got fresh with us! I’ve turned a beer over on an old codger’s head.

“Endure? Pitiful, Joanne! You’re in there laughing, flashing your droopy boobs, and encouraging them to get handsy. You’re not a poor, put-upon virgin at the bar. And you know that’s not what I’m talking about! They don’t make you grab your ankles, stick out your cunny, and give you a paddling! Are you really saying Jack is judge, jury, and executioner? He gets to decide if we broke a rule—or no rule at all! Just for his bloody pictures?”

My sister was being pretty dramatic—all for a single slap. Bloody hell.

"Well, first of all," Mum said, her voice firm but not unkind, "I can see why your first thought is that you’re worried your brother might be vindictive or cruel. That’s the first thing you’d do if the tables were turned, Joy. But he’s not like that. Jack isn’t going to make you girls model if I’m not there—it’s all three of us or none of us. Right, Jack?"

I didn’t think that was actually a rule, but Jack nodded anyway, his tone matter-of-fact. “Why do you think I said I can’t sort it if Sophie’s out one day, and the next it’s Joy? I want all three of you girls together—it’s the whole point.”

The cherries in my mouth nearly fell out as I fought back a laugh. Every time Jack referred to Mum as a "girl," it felt absurd. She was our mother, not one of us. Still, the word didn’t seem to bother her in the least.

Joy, however, wasn’t satisfied. Her voice rose with the dramatic flair only she could muster. “It just seems like there are no boundaries or limits—suddenly you’ve gone from Jack my brother to Jack my literal Lord and Master! Judge, jury, and executioner! You can put me over your knee and spank the snot out of me just for laughing at you wrong—or make me cut a birch branch off a tree to switch me! You’ve already blocked off Sunday morning to model, and you said 9 p.m. quitting time on weekends like it’s some sort of gift! What’s to stop you from keeping us going until one in the bloody morning?” She crossed her arms, her pout more pronounced than ever. “I’m overwhelmed, Jack!”

Jack’s gaze softened slightly, his tone even but understanding. “This is our first day doing this,” he said. “And I’ll admit, it’s going to take time to work out how everything runs—managing the pantry, sorting the shopping, and now this. You’ve got to work with me too. I’ll listen. When we’re modeling, I’d prefer we handle the chit-chat during meal breaks and not while I’m taking snaps. No one’s talking about dungeons and cages, Joy. We don’t have any. But if we did and you wanted pictures there, I’d take them. You’d survive.”

Joy started to open her mouth to protest, but Jack cut her off with a wry grin. “Simple solution to the butt-slapping issue—don’t sass me, don’t call her Mum during modeling, and don’t act like a brat. If you can manage that, your two fat butt cheeks won’t be jiggling and sore. Now, let’s finish this scene and talk more over tea.”

Honestly, it wasn’t unreasonable. I had questions, too—plenty of them—but I couldn’t exactly ask with a gob full of cherries and whippy cream.

Joy’s lips pursed as she sunk into a full pout, pulling out what Mum always called her “poor abused goth girl face.” It was classic Joy—glossy-eyed, over-the-top, and begging for sympathy.

Jack didn’t even blink. He’d seen this routine too many times to be fooled. “Save the act,” he said dryly. “I know you’re fine.”

Mum, meanwhile, was watching Joy with a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Look, for my part, I can understand why you might see this as infringing on your time and privacy,” she told her gently. “But I think Jack shouldn’t go easy on us either. And I recognize that pouty face you just pulled out of your magic hat of tricks,” Mum added, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips.

Then, glancing at me with a wink, Mum couldn’t resist a bit of teasing. “Let’s get back to it—your poor glossy-eyed sister over there is going to scream if she doesn’t get to be the center of attention again.”

I nearly choked on the cherries in my mouth. Me? The attention seeker? Hardly. That was Joy and Mum’s department through and through.

I watched as they continued their awkward attempts, their giggles and protests filling the room. Whipped cream smeared across their faces as they leaned too close, noses bumping again. Mum managed to hold a cherry by its stem, triumphantly dropping it into my mouth with an exaggerated flourish.

“One down,” she said with a grin, licking the cream from her fingers.

Joy rolled her eyes but followed suit, the two of them alternating as Jack kept a watchful eye. “Pick them up properly, or I’ll help you remember how,” he warned, his palm hovering dangerously close to Joy again.

I wondered if this counted as kissing my sister and Mum? We were touching lips but not really tongue... I’ve kissed boys before with no tongue that I didn’t like. I didn’t consider that kissing—just sort of being polite for a dinner and a movie, or out of boredom because they were the only bloke about and I wanted to play kissy face.

I felt bad for them. It was hard to get the stems out, so I pushed one cherry up with my tongue for Mum. She’d put me in this situation, but I still loved her and wanted to help her. But when Joy leaned in, I sucked it back down through the cream, making it that much harder for her—serves her right for laughing at me and dipping my toothbrush where the sun doesn’t shine!

“Hey, you’re doing that on purpose!” Joy complained, pulling back and glaring at me before turning to Jack.

I was scared Jack was going to blow his top at me. I think he could tell from the look in my eyes that I was up to something—half-grinning like an idiot with cream running down my lips and onto my tiny boobs and thighs.

“This,” Jack said, his voice sharp but steady, “is exactly why Joanne thinks you both need modeling. It’s not about the photos! It’s because Sophie probably is sucking the cherries down, and Joy is trying to get her in trouble—and now it’s on me to sort it out, isn’t it?”

Joy shook her head quickly, denying it. “I’m not lying!” she snapped.

Jack didn’t flinch. “You know how I know you’re lying, Joy? Your lips are moving.”

Mum giggled—no, actually laughed—at my sister. And honestly? She wasn’t wrong.

Jack turned to me, his tone softening just enough to be unsettling. “Sophie, my sweet sister?” he said with a smile, looming over me. I didn’t say anything. My little brother told me to stick my tongue out through the cream, and I did, not even thinking about it. I’d already been following his instructions, so what was one more?

My little brother audaciously pinched my tongue and gave it a firm squeeze, nearly making me drop all the cherries as I wobbled on my knees. Jack plucked a cherry off the pile on my tongue, balancing it delicately on his finger. “Joy, come here,” he said. She shuffled over, reluctantly taking the cherry off his finger with her teeth.

“Now you’re both even,” Jack declared, looking between us. “And let me be clear—if I hear about this nonsense again, whether it’s sucking cherries down or accusing each other of doing it, here’s what’s going to happen: I’m punishing both of you. I don’t care if it’s over stolen clothes or toothbrushes. If it’s during modeling and I can’t tell who’s at fault, you’ll both take the blame. And trust me, that would mean no more cherries for anyone. So… do either of you want to spit them on the floor?”

I shook my head quickly, feeling like the world’s biggest idiot, and Joy did the same. Funny thing was, these maraschino cherries had been sitting in the fridge for a year untouched. Now, all of a sudden, they were the only thing I wanted to eat—like I’d earned them, right? And no way was I about to let Joy ruin that for me.

I nearly spit the wad of whippy cream and cherries I had stored up in my so-called “Chipmunk cheeks” when Mum tried to talk with a few in her mouth – she sounded like a silly baby lisping.

"Brilliant! Joy, how dare you suck the cherries down when your sister has to kiss them out of your mouth? That’s dirty! And here I thought you were actually helping me for once!" She paused, turning to Jack with a pleased smile. "And I absolutely love the idea of punishing the two of them if they bicker—regardless of who’s wrong or right!"

“Don’t brown nose, Joanne – you should have told me that Sophie was cheating by helping you,” Jack told her to open her mouth and spit those three she pulled out back in my mouth and start over. “I’ll punish the THREE of you together if you all pile on!”

Mum was caught off guard by Jack’s stern condemnation. She was being supportive after all. If I were him, I’d want Mum on my side, rooting for me and not want to piss her off!

"I’m innocent here, Jack! They girls are the ones causing all the drama, not me!" Mom clearly felt like Jack judged her too harshly – her feelings were probably hurt.

Instead of just agreeing with her and apologizing like I would have, “Joanne, you ARE one of the girls – and you said it yourself, that girls cheat and lie – you have a special compulsion and if were to ignore it I am not doing you or anyone else any favors. You behave just like the two brats you are raising – and letting you get away with it without calling you out only makes you a stubborn brat!!”

You should have seen Mum’s face – her lips parted and she looked at Jack like he had just kicked her in the face. If she had cherries in her mouth still she would have dropped them.

“You let Sophie cheat to help you! Now, you have the audacity to tell me that you are innocent? That’s the drama and manipulation you told me that is natural for you! You didn’t start the drama, but you created some – now apologize properly from right where you are!”

Her shoulders slumped and her face a mix of embarrassment and contrition. "I’m sorry, Jack. I knew Sophie was helping me, and I didn’t say anything. I shouldn’t have blamed the other girls, and I’ll do better. I promise."

Mum called herself an “other” girl – that was something that was subtle and Jack may not have picked up on but I did and I was shocked that she seemed to believe she was on the same level as me! Joy must have picked up on it as well, because she was grinning wickedly when Mum got taken down a peg by Jack.

“Decent for your first of what may be many apologies today, Joanne - "At tea, you’ll take yours without milk, squatting on the floor, eating off a plate. You will thank me after you pour my tea, and not ask for anything I leave behind today. You’re already expecting special privileges, Joanne. Do you still want to model every day?"

Mum hesitated for a moment, then lifted her head, her tone subdued but resolute. "Yes, Jack. I still want to model every day."

“Then act like it – I am going to dress you down just like I would any other girl in the house! and after tea -we’ll do something about those ghastly pubes as well. They are disgusting. I can smell the dried squirty cream from here!”

Once I was left with about half the cherries in my mouth, Jack stepped back, snapping pictures. “Joanne, Joy, pass them back and forth. French kiss and keep it smooth—I want this to look good.”

Mum’s eyes widened for a moment, but she recovered quickly, leaning toward Joy with an almost playful smirk. “Come on, Joy. Let’s give him what he wants.”

Joy groaned but complied, their lips meeting as they passed the cherries between them. The sound of the camera clicking filled the air as Jack captured every moment. Their giggles resurfaced as cherries slipped, forcing them to start over more than once.

“Good,” Jack said finally, lowering the camera. “Now hold it. Don’t move until I say so.”

Jack snapped the last photo, lowering the camera with a satisfied smile. “Right, that’s all for now. You girls have done well—better than I expected for a first day. I’m proud of you.”

Jack said it like he meant it – not like he was being condescending, which surprised me. He had been teasing us pretty harshly during the game, punished Mum for “brownnosing” and not turning me in for giving her an unfair advantage, and slapped my big sister's big butt pretty hard when he sassed him and forgot to address our Mum as Joanne during modeling.

All in all, I would have expected him to say we were barely adequate just given his high standards and are performance. “Stand up, twats! You can bathe and then tea-time Shake your legs and move around. You’ve done well—better than I expected.”

My mom took a big stretch, with a grin! “You’ve got a way with compliments, Jack. Twats now, are we? Lucky us.”

My Mum wasn’t roaring with laughter like she had earlier, but it wasn’t sarcasm either. I would have expected sarcasm when you are called a twat. No, my Mum’s tone was more like she had just received the world’s best mother’s day card from Jack.

She’d be on cloud nine though a lot of this, but I’d seen her struggle, and look ashamed when he punished her during the cherry game – if you can call it anything.

There were no points, no scores, no timer, no goal or way to win. It had just been a laborious chore of holding my mouth open while my Mum and sister kissed me with whip cream in my mouth. It had been grueling, humiliating, and unlike some of the earlier things we had done – it just hadn’t been fun.

My sister noticed my Mum’s reaction and gave my brother a double take -almost like she couldn’t believe he had said it, and she had reacted that way. “That was exhausting! We put in all this effort to give you the best pictures possible – humiliating ourselves, Jack! If anyone sees these pictures, I will be a laughing stock in the Goth community!! And for my effort I get a thank you and also that I am a twat!!”

Jack’s voice cut through the room like a whip. “Turn around, Joy. Let’s have a look.”

Joy froze, her jaw tightening, but she didn’t argue. Slowly, she turned, shifting her hips awkwardly as she bent forward just enough for him to see.

“See that?” Jack’s tone was cold, dissecting, and detached. “That’s why you’re a twat, Joy. It’s not just about doing what I tell you—it’s how you do it. Sulking, eye-rolling, acting like the world owes you a medal for barely following instructions. You think that counts as effort? That’s not effort—it’s you being a brat.”

I bit my lip, glancing at Joy. Her shoulders were rigid, her knuckles whitening against the edge of the table.

“Even now, look at you,” Jack went on, relentless. “Stiff as a board like I’m asking for something unreasonable. If you’d just leaned into it, done it properly, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. But no, you’ve got to make every bloody thing an ordeal.”

Joy’s head dipped slightly, but Jack wasn’t done. He moved to her side, his gaze narrowing. “Chin up, tits out, Joy. Jesus Christ, you’ve got nearly perfect tits, but they sag like you’ve given up. What is it? Afraid someone might call you a ninny if you stand up straight? Or are you clinging so hard to this ‘goth-bitch’ act you can’t risk looking halfway presentable?”

I couldn’t look at her anymore - Joy was just dumb to keep on about it. We’d just have to endure this until Mum finally had enough and ended it. She doted on Jack, but just like her gym memberships, fad diets, and quick-rich Amway ideas, it wouldn’t be long before she let him have it, and we were back in to our norms around here – hopefully, Mum wouldn’t have any more crazy ideas about being starkers – I could only imagine going door to door and selling THAT! lol.

I was just going to keep my head down and not cause waves.

“Sort yourself out,” Jack finished, stepping back like he’d had enough. “If you’re going to sulk, at least look good doing it!”

Joy predictably snapped back, her voice sharp and trembling. “Can you believe this, Mum?” She knew the rules—she should’ve said Joanne—but the words spilled out anyway. “Is this living out your fantasy? We’re spreading our bums, getting roasted, and he’s having a laugh. Aren’t you the least bit angry he’s calling you a twat too?”

Joy was physically rigid, maybe fidgeting slightly, but unwilling to turn away and move from the position Jack had her in – holding her ass cheeks apart with her back to him. I almost laughed because of that stupid cherry lodged in her bum!

“Oh, that’s alright! It’s all in fun, love!” Mum giggled, almost amused by Joy’s anger, like she thought it was a kick to see her upset.

“In fun? Don’t you think he means to say you and I are twats?” Joy snapped, her arms crossing tightly over her chest.

“I am a twat, love! So are you! Look at us—naked, whip cream dried all over our faces, acting like fools, bickering like twats. And you’ve got a sweet cherry in your tailpipe!” Mum grinned broadly, clearly unbothered.

Joy glanced over her shoulder, her brow furrowing in surprise. “Bloody hell, is that still there?” With a quick motion, she let it drop to the floor between her feet, then looked up at Mum, her lips twisting into a grimace. “How long are we really supposed to go along with this constant humiliation, Mum?” she asked, her tone low and exasperated as she dropped her hands from her bum.

“A little humiliation never hurt anyone, love, and it’s Joanne to you, and I can’t say boo to you, but I’d put my hands back where they’re supposed to be if you want tea.”


You’d think Jack would be fuming, but he stood there cool, calm, and collected while our big sister threw what seemed like a tantrum. Jack’s the typical British soft-spoken teenager—he didn’t raise his voice or yell. He merely spoke formally and firmly. “You are not to talk to Joanne that way, Joy!”

Even Mum looked startled, blinking like she’d just been slapped. Joy’s head snapped up, her eyes wide, clearly thinking Jack had lost it.

“She can call you ‘twat,’ because you are one. You can call each other twat, slut, bitch, or big butt—that’s what you are.” His hand cracked hard against Joy’s arse, the sound sharp and final. She yelped, stumbling slightly but holding her position.

“That’s for once,” Jack growled, his voice low and steady. “That’s for twice saying ‘Mum.’ That’s for calling her Mum—because right now, Mum’s out. The Twat is in.”

He stepped closer, looming over Joy like he was daring her to say something else. “Now get down on your hands and knees. Get your cute little nose on that cherry you just farted onto my floor – take a sniff so you know your shit does stink! Look straight at it – you belong where you are, and I want you to know why!”

Joy hesitated, her mouth opening slightly as if to protest, but she caught herself, probably realizing it wouldn’t do her any good. Slowly, she lowered herself down, her hair falling forward as she settled onto all fours, her nose hovering just above the squashed cherry. I could tell she was mortified – no act. My sister was truly stunned into silent compliance. I knew that feeling well, but it was my default, and I’ve never seen her back down quite like this.

I wasn’t sure whether to laugh, cry, or pretend I wasn’t there. I love my sister dearly, and I was still miffed over learning what she had done to my toothbrush. Mum stayed quiet, though her lips twitched, caught somewhere between amusement and disbelief.

“The cherry has been in my bum, Jack!”

“You’re kidding? I’m the one who bloody placed it there, you ignorant troll-doll! It’s still bright red and shiny—if it was brown and looked like it had been dipped in peanut butter, I might believe you weren’t trying to manipulate me for sympathy! How does it smell? You have a clean asshole, don’t you?”

“I don’t know what you want from me, Jack! This isn’t fun or funny anymore! I’ve gone all in and done everything you’ve asked of me! Why do you want to be cruel? What did I do to you? I didn’t use YOUR toothbrush if that’s what this is all about!!”

“Use my toothbrush for what?” Jack stood over my sister, looking down at her like she was a pitiful specimen of humanity. I felt bad for her—we had done everything he asked, and it seemed like Jack was just on a power trip!

“You know what,” Joy looked up at him- she must have been afraid or ashamed to say it out loud. I don’t know why not – it’s not like it was any secret now.

“Nose touching the cherry, Joy. I want to hear it from you. What might you have done to my toothbrush, explicitly—tell me. We all want to hear.”

Joy, still bent low, looked up from the cherry briefly, her face a mix of resignation and defiance before pressing her nose back to the floor. “I get it—this is about some of that ‘girls are shit because they were born with silts and tits’ talk. No matter how hard I try to make you both happy, I can’t win, is that it? Why even try if I’m always going to be found lacking?”

“You’re found lacking, Joy, because you say you’re all in, but you aren’t!” Jack shot back; his voice steady but firm.

(are people still reading? I had to update the photos for chapter five - so they should change shortly)

[Bobmagn]

Hey. It's been a while . Desperately waiting for the next chapters of this story. Haven't seen much from you lately. Your SoL page has shrinked as well. Hopefully everything is fine with you. Always looking forward to see more of you

[EddieDavidson]

Thanks for the encouragement!

So, it’s not Naked Attraction, then. It’s the whole “female condition” thing Mum’s always preaching about—girls drool, boys rule. It seemed obvious now! I was hoping it was just a game. Maybe it still was.

All I knew was this was a pain in my arse, and the most humiliating thing I’d ever been asked to do -and the worst part was my quim was dripping uncontrollably, and I was extra horny. Now my whole family knew my nipples were as hard as gummy wines, and my mum had just signed up for more sessions.

My only consolation was that mum over promises and then quickly loses interest, and I presumed she’d have her fill of taking nude snaps sooner than later.

“I knew it had to be something like that,” Joy said, her voice steady now. “Some of the things we’ve done, I quite enjoyed—I like weird shit, and I think you know that. But I don’t want to be humiliated constantly just because I was born a gender I didn’t choose. What does ‘all in’ even mean? If you want me to be all in, I’ll be all in. I’ll put my back into it, okay? Can I get up now, please, Sir? How’s that? Let’s go take a bath. I’ll do whatever you tell me.”

“I am a twat because I was born with a great massive one between my legs, birthed two more jabbering nasty little twats, and never spread my hole often enough to convince a man to come raise them properly. I’m vain, stubborn, fat, lazy, dumb—to be honest, I’ve never been book-smart. I thought myself above being held to the same standard as these two cunts and taught them to do as I say, not as I do. I suppose that’s one reason of many, Jack, but I’m all in. I don’t mind admitting I’m a twat, and I respect your decision to let them call me what I am—even if I don’t think they’ve earned that right.”

Joy, still bent low, glanced up briefly from the cherry, her face a mix of resignation and defiance, before pressing her nose back to the floor. “I get it—this is about some of that ‘girls are shit because they were born with slits and tits’ talk. No matter how hard I try to make you both happy, I can’t win, is that it? Why even try if I’m always going to be found lacking?”

“You’re found lacking, Joy, because you say you’re all in, but you aren’t!” Jack shot back; his voice steady but firm.

I stood there, puzzling over his words. Jack meant every word he said about me—not cruelly, but it still stung. It wasn’t entirely wrong, though. I was just standing there, blank-faced, trying to piece it together. What shocked me more was that Joy, of all people, seemed willing to keep going.

“I knew it had to be something like that,” Joy said, her voice steady now. “Some of the things we’ve done, I quite enjoyed—I like weird shit, and I think you know that. But I don’t want to be humiliated constantly just because I was born a gender I didn’t choose. What does ‘all in’ even mean? If you want me to be all in, I’ll be all in. I’ll put my back into it, okay? Can I get up now, please, Sir? How’s that? Please, let’s go have a shower—we stink to high heaven. I’ll do whatever you tell me while I am your model, Jack. Okay, please??”

Jack folded his arms, his expression unreadable. “Yeah, I am not an ogre—I want you to be happy, Joy! I like everything you just said. I don’t want us to have conflict—I am the boss while we are modeling. Hold the cherry in your mouth until tea, and we’ll have a happy lunch, talk about whatever questions you have!!” Jack was satisfied—conflict de-escalated.

Holy shit, that was tense! Everyone else kept referring to this as modeling—but something else was happening between us. I just wasn’t able to say what.

“Being all in means giving yourself over to it—no reluctance, no rebellion. I don’t expect you to be perfect—look at Sophie! She’s been a good girl, but she’s far from perfect. Standing there with a blank look in her eyes, barely paying attention. There’s nothing wrong with being a girl so long as you know your place, but you keep acting like your shit doesn’t stink. Then you throw a tantrum when I call you out for breaking a rule you knew full well you were breaking, didn’t you?”

“Fine, Jack! I’ll put my back into it, okay? You’re right—I broke the rule just to get under your skin and Joanne’s. You can slap my arse if it makes you feel better. We’ll do it your way. I’ll be better, alright?” Joy’s voice was firm but tinged with an edge of frustration, the effort to submit clearly weighing on her.

Jack wasn’t letting up. “If you were all in, you’d be an open book—no holding back. Mouth, twat, arse—all of it. But you couldn’t even hold the cherry for two bloody minutes. You had to pop it out and let it roll onto the floor, just to make a point. That’s what you do, Joy. You go along with it just enough to look like you’re trying, then muck it all up at the end to prove you’ve still got control. I was going to give you a treat for being such a good girl, but no—you had to ruin it.”

“It’s not like that, Jack!” Joy’s voice cracked, teetering on the edge of defensiveness and desperation.

“You’re a natural little liar, Joy. I saw you do it—the way you glanced back over your shoulder at me, sly as anything, while the cherry rolled away. If you’re truly all in, prove it. Suck the cherry up, clench it in your teeth—don’t bite down. Hold it in your mouth while you take a shower, and then I’ll let you have a proper lunch.”

Joy’s face twisted with conflict—I could see her battling every instinct not to explode at him. Instead, she bent down, scooped up the cherry with her teeth, and stood, showing it to him. Her lips curled slightly, but she held it firm between her teeth, speaking just a little muddled, like a Scotsman who’d had one too many pints.

“Good choice. I’ve been hard on you because you’ve been hard on me—and Joanne too. Sometimes you need a bit of that to set things right.” Jack’s words hung in the air.

“A little hard on?” Oh, why did he make it so easy? I could see Joy’s mind racing, her lips pressing together as she battled every instinct not to say something cutting.

Joy stood, lips curled slightly, still holding the cherry between her teeth—nothing left to say, but Mum cleared her throat. Her expression softened, her usual bubbliness replaced with a patient, demure demeanor.

"Jack, honey?" she said, her voice sweet as Banoffee pie, careful and deliberate. "I know you’ve got a schedule today, and I wouldn’t interrupt unless it were important. May I say a brief something to the girls?"

She delivered the request like a queen addressing her king, ready to accept a “no” without protest.
Jack didn’t even look up. "If it sets back lunch by more than five minutes, you’re going without today—and you’ll pop off at ten instead of nine tonight for the inconvenience, my fat little turd blossom. Now, turn around, spread those farty-cheeks. Let’s see if that cherry you had in your gobber dropped out or got swallowed by the mighty poop worm inside you."

"Oh, ha-ha, really? I’d all but forgotten! I am a dolt," Mum laughed, her previous restraint dissolving into her usual jubilance. "Thank you, Jack! I’d have left the sweet cherry up there if you hadn’t said—can you see it?"

She turned without hesitation, her mood shifting like the break of dawn as she bent over. Her tone was cheery and light, as though this was just another part of her day.

Jack leaned in with mock concentration. "Nope. Swallowed whole by the dookie monster," he announced, then, in one audacious motion, popped a finger in, retrieved the cherry, and held it up triumphantly.

Mum let out a hearty laugh, her reaction like one of her bar giggles when a Fox and Hounds regular goosed her on the way to the taps. "Ooh, you might have warned a lady!" she exclaimed.

“I would have if you were a proper lady,” Jack joked. “You are just a horny old slag, who puts cherries up your bum though—so what goes in, must come out.”

Jack smirked while Mum had a proper laugh at that. He held the cherry he took out of her sweaty rump aloft. "Here—chocolate-covered cherry." He wiped it clean with a quick flick and brought it to her lips.

Without hesitation, Mum clamped her teeth around it, holding it like a prize. Jack gestured toward Joy. "Clench it, like your sister. Now, pose cheek to cheek so I can at least get a few snaps while we waste time on your gabbing."

Mum’s eyes sparkled as she turned toward Joy. "Which cheeks, Jack? Gassy-ass or face?" Her voice oozed marmalade warmth, her gaze playful.

"Start face to face," Jack replied, clearly pleased that my mum had been so respectful and courteous. I was still a bit confused by how the tables had turned so much. Jack was the boss, at least for modeling—but how would it work outside of modeling?

Mum released her ass cheeks, wrapping her arms around Joy with natural affection. For once, Joy didn’t resist or squirm away. Instead, she leaned into the embrace, her cheek resting against Mum’s. The tension melted in the quiet stillness of the moment—a rare tenderness in the midst of absurdity.

After Jack snapped the photo, Mum lingered in the embrace, her arms still wrapped around Joy. She glanced at us, her smile warm but mischievous. The moment would’ve been legendary if they didn’t look so ridiculous—both of them holding cherries in their mouths like a pair of daft mice. Mum’s big buck teeth made it even funnier, like she was about to scurry off to some hidden den.

“Girls, I know this isn’t easy for you, and I need you to know how much I appreciate it. You didn’t have to do this, but you did it because I asked you to do it, and I thank you both for that!”

She didn’t ask us—she told us we were doing it in no uncertain terms. But I wasn’t going to challenge my Mum. Seeing her eyes light up like that, I would’ve done it anyway. I didn’t sign up for this—I thought it’d be simple cheesecake photos or something sexy. But now that I was here, her gratitude actually meant something. I didn’t expect it to hit as hard as it did.

“You don’t want to be here right now, and I know that. I want to thank you for putting up with it. When I started this morning, I had no idea how it would all go—it’s been bubbling up since lunch, I think. After you told me, ‘A little meanness never hurt anybody,’ I suppose you meant it as a joke, but it stuck with me. I thought, ‘Why not? Why not lean into it a bit?’”

Mum glanced at Jack with a small wink, then back at Joy. “When he roasted me playing Naked Attraction, I felt this… release. Like, finally, I didn’t have to pretend to be some proper lady. I could just say, ‘You know what? I’m a bit of a twat,’ and lean into it. And then I looked at you, Joy—not yelling, not bickering with Sophie, just taking it. And I thought, ‘If she can handle this, maybe I can crack on with it as well.’”

Her voice cracked slightly. “I’m not saying I’ve been perfect—I know I haven’t. But this is… it’s been good for me, and I think it could be good for you too. Maybe if we give this a proper go—a week of just going all in—it’ll do us some good. I’m asking you, no, I’m begging you. Be an open book. I promise, you’ll get something out of it.”

Mum turned to Jack, chuckling. “Don’t think for a second I’m not humiliated. You fingered my hairy butthole to grab a cherry, took a photo of it, and told me to clench it between my teeth. I’ll never live that down, but here I am. If you tell me to put another up my bum, put it in my mouth again, I’ll do it, you can take pictures, have a laugh, fish it out if you dare get bit by the poopy-snake or whatever you called it. That’s the deal. I am your open book! If you want to touch that page – by all means! Have a go at me! I’ve never had a man, touch me there before- even the gyno doesn’t go there!”

“Does it turn you on, Joanne?” Jack asked – not sarcastic, more like he was curious. “I want the honest truth!”

“It…doesn’t make me hot to trot, if that’s what you’re asking, and I know you are my son, so it makes me feel, for lack of a better word like the world’s worst mum and a proper slag, because It excited me –it’s embarrassing to admit this out loud, but since you want honesty, I may as well tell you – it makes me feel like I shouldn’t have liked it, but it excited me.”

“A little embarrassment never hurt anyone, Love,” Jack applied my mother’s quote perfectly. My mom smiled at him. “You aren’t the world’s worst mum. You amaze me, Joanne. The past few days, you kept dropping hints you wanted to do some modeling – I think you are modeling the correct behavior.”

She called Jack over, and he joined the group hug – the three of us naked and him clothed – nothing sexual, just us holding each other in silence for a long, perfect, minute.

I thought I’d cry—something about her honesty was just… moving. Joy’s face softened, her usual snark absent, and even Jack seemed momentarily still, as if considering what to say.

“Sophie, love,” Mum said, her gaze turning to me. “You’ve been a rock. Quiet, steady, just doing what’s asked of you. I saw you squatting off to the side earlier, wide open because Jack told you to, and you didn’t bat an eye. I thought, ‘If Sophie can do that, I can let go too.’ Your brother reminds me of my own dad back in Blackpool. Hard but fair, a man who didn’t let us girls grow up spoiled.”

She paused, wiping her eye before turning back to Jack. “Thank you, sir. You’re a good son. I respect you. I’ll be here tomorrow, ready to start again at 7 a.m., bright and early. And if you’ll let us shower and have a lunch break now, I’ll try not to tear up.”

Our bathroom isn’t much space for one person. There is a toilet, sink and shower, and it opens right into the kitchen, so if you make a stink or a loud noise, everybody else hears it or smells it through the kitchen door.

It's still a might of privacy, even if the lock’s been broken for years, and we end up walking in on each other. Mum said she’d get around to calling the landlord about it, but she hasn’t in a few years.

Today, Jack decided that girls would be showering together. “You lot can leave the door open from now on when you go to the loo or shower during modeling. You are to have no inhibitions or privacy – I’ll take snaps from out here and make sure you are scrub-a-dub-dubbing instead of rub-a-rubbing,” my brother made the universal woman rubbing one out gesture around his crotch.

“What if we’ve got to go pee or worse?” Joy scrunched her nose in disgust, talking around the cherry in her mouth.

“Worse? You’ve got to learn to be more like Joanne and get explicit. We all know you mean taking a shit- so say it! You’ll sit on the bowl and plop one out like proper little twats! You’ll have no privacy – I want to see everything!”

“Why that though?” I managed to ask. I couldn’t imagine any reason he’d want to take snaps of us doing it or wiping up after. I got that Jack liked to humiliate, but this was something I didn’t want to do in front of my sister – much less the whole family.

“You need to get used to doing everything in front of me – I’ve not asked you if you are all in! Sophie. Joy and Joanne say that they are – what are you?”

“I am here – doing what you told me, Jack!” I said as I turned on the shower.

“Then hop in that tub, wash yourself good, re-apply your make up out here after you dry off – you can all shower together.”

“Dear, look at me, I am a whale, these two won’t get any water with me blocking it all,” my mum pointed out to her son, sweetly.

“Try it, you’ll sort it. Get cozy,” my brother insisted.

We tried it, and it turns out that we couldn’t do it – it was either my mum, or me and Joy. My Mumm sat on the commode and either pretended to pee or did it for real, while Joy and I washed up.

“Sophie, do you trust me?” my sister whispered conspiratorially.

“You two cunts, wash each other, don’t play with yourselves, I don’t want to see one hand touching your own bodies! When Joanne hops in, you two can dry yourselves while you wash her with the other hand!” Jack reluctantly accepted that our shower was just not big enough for the three of us.

Jack was frustrated that we couldn’t just hug each other tightly and squeeze in – it went against his vision of how it would work. “It’s the first day – I’ll think of a better way for you to shower,” he shrugged. I assumed that Jack intended to make even going to the bathroom and private time in the bathroom some sort of humiliating modeling experience.

Mom was elated. We had to shower together and saw nothing wrong with it. Her main concern was that Jack was beating himself up for what she saw as her weight problem “You are doing the best you can, given the circumstances, Jack. If I were not a lard-arse, we might all fit, Jack! Hopefully, the diet you have me on will shed a few pounds, but I am afraid I can’t manage it in here with the other girls!”

My sister leaned in and whispered, “Make a good show of it; go on! It’s what the little wanker wants to see.”

I furrowed my brow, a bit lost on what Joy was playing at, but I couldn’t deny being curious. Honestly, I was enjoying the way she scrubbed my arse. It felt... nice. Not something I’d ever admit aloud, but out of the few girls I’d been with, none of them had a touch quite like Joy’s—though I wasn’t sure what to make of that thought.

“Of course,” Joy said, flashing a grin over her shoulder at Jack as she posed for one of his shots, pulling me close under the stream of water. “We’ll sort it, Jack! This is so much fun!”

I almost laughed at how blatantly she was laying it on thick, flashing that cheeky smile like she hadn’t just told a complete porky. I couldn’t tell if Jack bought her over-the-top enthusiasm, but he didn’t call her out on it.

“When Mum loses—what, seven stone, give or take—on this massive diet you’ve got her on, I’m sure we’ll squeeze her in with us and make it work!”

That’s the spirit, Joy!” Mum reached up from the crapper, giving her a soft touch and a big smile.
I have to admit, I felt a bit obliged to back Joy on her grand plan—couldn’t exactly leave her whistling in the wind, could I? At the same time, seeing Mum this happy was something else. I’d never seen her so loving—it was like all the angels were singing to her, and bells were ringing.

“How long d’you reckon it’ll take to slim Joanne down into a proper stunner, Jack?” Joy asked, her tone light, but with that usual bite underneath. “Knowing Mum’s track record, these miracle fat-loss, total-body-transformation diets of hers barely make it to day three before she’s binned ’em. We’ve got to work fast!”

She wasn’t wrong. Mum loved dragging us along for her latest “guaranteed” slimming schemes, even though I’m basically a twig. Her logic? “I’m not suffering through this bloody cabbage soup or boiled egg nonsense while you two tuck into a proper fry-up!” Every time, like clockwork.

I was pretty sure Joy was nudging at the same thing I’d been thinking—Mum’s new passions always burned hot for about three days before flaming out spectacularly. Maybe my sister figured this modeling gig would follow the same pattern. If that was the case, there wasn’t much point kicking up a fuss. We’d just ride it out until Monday, and Mum would probably chuck the whole idea in the rubbish along with the rest. No point pretending we were “all in” when we were just along for the ride.

As much as it embarrassed me to strip and pose and let Jack call me a munter with tiny tits, I’d probably go all-in just to keep her smiling. I was already going to have to do it anyway, so maybe it wasn’t such a big thing to slap on a big toothy grin and mind the gap. Was that all there was to going all-in? Just not be annoyed, look happy, and do as you’re told?

I’d been doing that my whole life—Secondary School, Sunday service, Tediously predictable dates with boys I didn’t even fancy just to fill the time. Just slap a smile on your face and crack on.

I’d have never thought of nude modeling to pass the time, not by a long shot. I’d never in a million years thought I’d be standing around starkers, striking poses, while Jack bosses us around like Gordon Ramsay calling us all Donkeys. I didn’t have fantasies of being a page three model, they stopped doing that years ago and those slags found Twitter to show off their honkers a lot faster and in higher resolution.

I wouldn’t have thought to show off for the hell of it—no way. I did sell a few snaps of my tits to some bloke on Snapchat once. For what little there was to see, I’d say he got a raw deal.

But here I was, and some bits of today were, dare I say, almost fun. Not all of it, mind you—plenty of it was awkward and humiliating—but still, fun wasn’t entirely off the table.

The truth was, I didn’t have anything better to do. South Godstone was dull as dishwater, and we had fuck-all going on most days. There’s only so much wandering about, staring at the same fields and fences, a person can do before their brain starts to rot. At least this gave us something to talk about when it all fizzled out—which, knowing Mum’s track record with sticking to things, was bound to happen sooner rather than later.

What really tipped the scales, though, was Mum. She looked chuffed to bits, more alive than I’d seen her in ages. If me plastering on a big, daft smile and jumping when my little brother said “jump” was enough to keep her beaming, then I could manage that. It wasn’t like I had to enjoy it to play along. Call it “going all-in” or whatever you like—if it meant keeping her happy, I’d give it a shot. The embarrassment wasn’t exactly fun, but seeing Mum so genuinely thrilled took the sting out of it.

And anyway, at least I’d have the story. Joy would, no doubt, try to one-up me later, claiming she’d done it twice as long or twice as hard. That’s her style—always a topper, turning every shared experience into her own exaggerated triumph. But for now, I had the satisfaction of knowing we’d done something a bit mad, something that would stand out in a sea of days as dull and predictable as South Godstone itself.

The thing with Joy’s plan that worried me (other than I might not even know what it was and how it worked), was we might be doing something deceptive and manipulative just like Mum said all women did, for nothing really. if modeling was going to fizzle, then we may as well see it through to Monday and we’d never have to hear of it again – no point in pretending we are “all-in” when it was pretty obvious we were just sort of along for the ride of it all.

“You don’t want to keep doing this modeling or whatever it’s become, do you?” Joy asked, her hands on my tits, rubbing and making me feel a bit better than someone’s sister should make them feel.

“What choice have we got? It’s what mum wants,” I whispered. I was having second thoughts about participating in the plan at all.

“I didn’t ask you that,” Joy frowned, putting one of my hands down around her pussy.

“You want me to finger you?” I asked in a whisper -wondering if she really wanted me to give that a go. It was one thing to play at rubbing each other – but we are sisters!!

“You can pretend, or you can go for it, either way, if we continued doing this, we’re going to have to at this rate,” Joy seemed fine with it. I shrugged and gave it a go. I know I should have felt guilty about finger banging my sister – but I didn’t think of her as my sister in that moment. She was now just Joy the other model to me, and that made it easier to lezz out with her. She wasn’t half bad at it, either -which also helped.

I was just pleased she didn’t make a macaroni and cheese reference for once.

She was also making me drippy, teasing my nips and they are super sensitive. The worst part of it was that I wasn’t feeling guilty when I knew I should have about playing with my own sister. I was thinking to myself that if Jack DID sell the pictures, and I got a cut – sister on sister porn would probably put us in a Weybridge mansion instead of a cruddy old rowhouse in South Godstone.

“Don’t just wash each other’s tits and beef curtains!” he shouted. We switched our hands around to wash other, more mundane areas for one another. I know it’s crude, but I had to laugh over beef curtains.

“Do you want to be naked, scrubbing my bum when you go to third form?”

Third form? I was still in Secondary school. I hadn’t even thought about Monday yet – much less what life would be like in third form. I’d never even thought much about my future. I assumed I’d live with me Mum for the rest of my life.

Joy turned me so that we were close enough to kiss, embracing me like she was going to French kiss me. My heart started beating rapidly as I waited for her to take the initiative.

“Remember last month, Mum went full pelt in the Women’s Institute? She volunteered us to lug trays of flapjacks and Victoria sponge door-to-door and then four days later, she couldn’t even be assed to go again, and now we never hear about it?”

“Yeah, I guess she went all in on that too,” I giggled, a bit disappointed we hadn’t really kissed. It would have been the perfect moment to do it – hot water cascading off our bodies.

“Alright, Clean each other’s filthy Growlers, and hop out, let Joanne have a go- we’ve not had a proper shoot all day because you louts have been whinging and having your laughs. If you want to be at this until 11 pm, you’ll still be out here bright and early at 7 am naked as jaybirds! I think I’ll take you to Crawley tomorrow!” Jack insisted – talking down to us about how we hadn’t put our backs into the photo session.

Joy gave me a wink and showed the cherry in between her teeth to Jack with a big, broad, pleased smile, and told him she was still all in, but her freshly cleaned growler was out and ready for firming.

“That’s what I wanted to hear, well behaved little gits,” Jack teased and asked me.

“Um, All in, Sir?” I had no idea what to say – my voice cracked a little. I played along with my sister-somewhat confused on the plan.

Meanwhile, my Mum got in the shower. Jack made her lift her hands up over her head and hold them there -while we dried ourselves with one hand and washed her with another.

Joy had to whisper in my ear to continue telling me about her so-called brilliantly thought out plan. The problem was that I didn’t have a lot of faith in that. My sister wasn’t exactly a master planner any more than I was. That was more Jack’s thing. I could barely hear her. “I can’t talk about it now -they’ll hear. Just follow my lead. Take your toothbrush and try to clench it between your butt cheeks.”

Had she gone mad? Was she taking the piss? I was still angry with her for USING my toothbrush to wipe her own bum. Now, her “secret plan” was to make me do the same?

I doubted there was a secret plan at all! Mum would either run out of steam and have enough of Jack or we’d be bare-assed for most meals and bending and squatting for Jack in the foreseeable future as I saw it. The only way to end it would be to just stand up to the two of them and say we aren’t doing it.

The only reason I hadn’t was that like Joy, I had been raised to do as my Mum told me and found the idea of open defiance, to be about as likely as living as a life of crime a gangster and robbing banks. As much as I bicker with my sister, you’d think I’d love confrontation, but I’d have rather Mum decide we’ve had enough and that’d be the end of it.

“Are you having a laugh?” I instinctively replied angrily. Joy hushed me and gave up the pretense of hiding what she was plotting. Instead, she made it obvious to me with her body language that she wanted me to just do what she told me.

“Everybody knows what I did to your toothbrush, I did it because I am a vindictive twat, Sophie. All I am saying is prove to Jack you are all in. There aren’t any cherries – so put your brush up your bum, brush end first – and hold it between your cheeks to show Jack you are all in and you are going to do what he tells you.”

“Wha?” I didn’t like that idea, and I thought she meant long-ways inside my asshole. She had to stop me from trying to shove it up my backside and correct me, so it went lengthwise in between my crack . The thought occurred to me this an elaborate prank to make me end up brushing my teeth with a brush that I flavored myself with my own clag. Fortunately, I had just washed my ass, and there was no chance of that.

It wasn’t easy clenching my brush, but I managed. I slid it between my cheeks, lengthwise, with the bristles sticking out. Jack rushed us out of the bathroom in record time, barking orders like he couldn’t wait another second. I had to waddle to keep the brush from falling out, carrying only a few bits of makeup I’d grabbed in the scramble.

I wondered if this would be my routine every morning from now on—putting on makeup like this, rushed and awkward. I felt bare without a touch of foundation, but I’d had to leave it behind in the scramble. I felt like such a dumb goat.

It truly did feel like Jack wanted to take every aspect about being a woman and make us feel sorry we were one – or punish us by making something like spending time in the bathroom painting our faces up pretty into a more cumbersome task we had to do in front of him while he laughed at us rushing about to please him and hauling our makeup to the table.

I wondered if I’d really be putting my makeup on like this every morning from now on -I felt naked without a little foundation, and I’d left it behind in my hurry.

Maybe I was reading too much into it, and Jack was just having a laugh watching us jiggle, dripping wet and rushing about. The thing is—my sister and Mum were now completely in sync, treating it like his right and their privilege to go along with it.

Jack sat in his chair in the kitchen, snapping pics of us scurrying back to the kitchen from the bathroom with an armload of makeup to set up at the table.

Mum and I were already working on our makeup at the kitchen table. We tossed down the essential mess of brushes and compacts we’d need to paint back on our faces after a shower, I ran my mascara wand over my lashes and squeezed my butt cheeks together – very much aware of the toothbrush. Jack hadn’t even noticed it yet – or if he did, he didn’t seem to care much about it.

Joy had barely started on her eyeliner. I wondered what she was plotting!

I wished my Sister hadn’t even told me about her “secret plan” – now I ran the risk of giving it away if I didn’t say yes or no at the right time when she asked me. All I knew was that she claimed to have one, and it would speed up the time it took Mum to get over the modeling thing all together.

I doubted My mum would want to give this up – she seemed so blissful and excited to be here – she was adapting even to applying makeup in the kitchen – even though we had a mirror just in the bathroom.

Mum’s unwavering reverence for Jack and the idea of doing what he told her during modeling sessions seemed so different than how excited she normally got about one of her schemes. I didn’t hold out much hope that my sister’s plan would get us out of this jam – worth a try, perhaps.

Honestly, I was starting to think this truly was gonna be my life, at least for a bit anyway, when it lost its luster for my Mum.

We were overdue for tea, and all of us were hungry. Mum was getting a little antsy about it. She might forget to pay the rent on time and let the laundry pile up for weeks, but tea after three o’clock was downright sacrilegious to her. It was already creeping up to a quarter past, and she looked like she might boil over before the kettle did.

“If you don’t want to be here shaking your butts for the camera until 11 tonight, you’ll clear out of the loo and put your makeup on at the table.”

“I don’t mind staying as long as you want, Sir!” Joy offered graciously, flashing a sweet smile—revealing that cherry was still clenched between her teeth, after everything it had been through today.

I’d have said she was laying it on a bit thick, but my sister’s “secret plan” seemed simply to kill Jack with kindness. I just wasn’t sure how that was supposed to get us out of modeling altogether. Mum was thrilled, though, copying her as if they’d rehearsed it.

“Aye, we can go all night; we’ve got nothing to do on Sunday, Jack! It’s totally up to you!” Mum was delighted -although it seemed like perhaps, she was a bit unnerved by not eating, or maybe she was already starting to find the idea of modeling as much as she had committed us to doing was too much to keep up with.

“You dumb cows ever think I may want to sleep sometime instead of watching your slutty monkey-antics and taking pictures of it? It’s our first day at this, and now we are at it seven days a week. I like your enthusiasm though Joy. It’s unexpected, I guess it was worth taking a moment to give you an attitude adjustment.”

Jack was basically patting himself on the back for what I felt was an obvious act from my sister. My sister agreed with him and thanked him – now I knew for sure that the plan was to pretend like she loved it. I assumed I’d better do the same.

I hoped I hadn’t misread the plan or else I’d end up even worse off.

“Let’s go, girls. Get your faces painted back on! That’s the way of women, isn’t it? If you’re a bloke born ugly, you just live with it. But you lot? You paint over it. Isn’t that right, Mum? Are you an uggo without your precious blue eye shadow?”

Mum seemed a bit hurt, The cherry still clenched between her teeth as she fumbled with her eye makeup, no mirror in sight -not an easy task to do. She normally laughed herself silly when he was mean, but seemed sullen, perhaps resigned to accept his teasing. "Do you want me to look pretty for the next shoot, Jack? Or would you rather I leave it off altogether?"

You're putting it on because I said so, you blithering tubby sod! Now tell me—are you just plain ugly without it, or what?

“I am a fat, old fart of a twat, you said it yourself earlier when you got me good, Jack. Blackpool’s finest seaside sow, with droopy udders, a gut like a pub landlord, and a quim that looks like a bird’s nest!” Mum smiled sweetly, still holding the maraschino cherry between her teeth. “I couldn’t give it away at the Fox and Hounds with a tenner shoved up my holes for the first piker who wanted it, could I?”

Jack grinned, leaning back slightly. “Hey, a little meanness never hurt anyone, right? I also said you were Goddess Crump, the Poolie in Yellow with her Magnificent Melons,” he countered, his voice taking on a playful yet oddly supportive edge. He reached out and gave her nipple a cheeky tweak. Mum didn’t bat his hand away—instead, she flushed and lit up like she’d just won ten grand on Mastermind. “If you’re so sure, Mum, how about I dress you up, take you to the Fox and Hounds one night modeling, and we’ll see how much the punters would fork over? What do you say to that?”

“No, it never did hurt anyone, Jack. I don’t mind being teased -I know what I am. “Mum smiled, flattered by Jack’s unexpected compliment but less excited than when he was mean to her. “Even three pints deep, I’m last choice for a goose from the old farts up at the tavern, so I doubt you’d get more than a free pint of ale and a packet of crisps for a tumble with me,” she said, brushing him off as if he were joking, she added, “What can I make for tea?”

"Since we’re modeling, girls stand, men sit for all meals from now on, you can work off a little extra calories, and it makes it easier to take snaps of your entire body. I haven’t forgotten that you are being punished, Joanne. You’ll sit your big butt on the wooden floor, legs crossed after you’ve brought the tea and laid out the food."

I expected as much for today - given Jack was making us model past supper and he thought it was good fun to make us stand at the table. However, it was still unclear to me if that meant every day, and when we weren’t modeling. I was afraid to ask, because he’d probably say we’d have to stand all the time and Mum was probably willing to go right along with any pure muppetry Jack suggested at the moment.

We’d started at breakfast with the idea that we just had to hold out until lunch. Then Mum had the brilliant idea to do Naked Attraction and Jack told us we’d have to show up tomorrow for that bit. Then Mum gave us one of her “Back in Blackpool” stories about the way women should behave, and Jack set our schedule just until tea.

All the time, no one asked us Joy and if we minded – just cracking on and bending over, wiggling our bits, and letting him snap us like “open books” anywhere Jack well pleased. Then Mum said wouldn’t it be a posh idea if we just did this every day for two hours from now on. That because as long as Jack well pleased, because he felt we’d shortchange him when we went out on weekends or came home from school.

Mum ASKED Jack earlier if he was alright with us going just until 9 pm on Fridays and Saturdays, as if it was a favor to us, and a big hassle to him -when we had only ever signed on for lunch. He only reluctantly agreed on the stipulation we be good girls and show up on time and give our all each day – every day. We’d gone from one day of modeling to two days to now every day for the foreseeable future.

Lucky us, right?

Just a few minutes earlier, Jack was saying that Mum and Joy’s outbursts made us late for tea, so now he was pushing us back to 5 pm, and 5 pm became 9 pm for reasons I couldn’t even remember, and suddenly we were likely to go until 11 pm?

When would we sleep? Was this truly going to be like this everyday? Or would it collapse by Monday like most of my Mum’s other off-the-deep end crusades that end with her tossing it all in the bin and forgetting it about it?

I’d trust in Joy’s plan, or wait for someone to get tired of it all and put a stop to the modeling or just slap a smile on my face and crack on with it, – we’d find out soon enough one way or the other what he decided. We’d probably end up well past 11pm at this rate. I could whinge and wail but at the rate things had been changing any answer I’d get at half past five would be different by 6 pm.

I can tell you one thing for sure – no one was going to ask me my opinion of it, anyway – so there was no point in my asking and making things worse.