Dare Me (new 7/29)
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neverdoubted
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perseus
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Re: Dare Me (two new 4/4)
I will! May we have the next part? I'm dying to know what Mikey makes Lucy do!
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jojo12026
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neverdoubted
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Dare Me - Chapter 13 - Hardship Study Buddy (Part 13)
Dare Me - Chapter 13 - Hardship Study Buddy (Part 13)
The eighth day of Lucy's dare ended up being among the most humiliating experiences of her life to that point. I awoke with a smile and an erection so big, it hurt. I wrongly assumed that by mid-morning, both it and her dare would be addressed and resolved. Eager to get on with my day and full of excess energy, I jumped out of bed and started getting dressed. I was on a mission. All I had to do was pass that stupid test. Fourth time's a charm, right?
But my priorities were disrupted almost immediately by the sound of a disagreement coming from somewhere downstairs. Mom was using her upcoming day off to pursue some promising leads. In addition to checking out some sales positions which sounded similar to her old job, Aunt Julie had finally convinced her to consider becoming a car show booth attendant. I thought it was a mistake to even apply for that one but kept my opinion to myself.
I located the girls in the kitchen in the later stages of a heated argument. Mom had packed a small overnight bag for her trip and was already wearing a nice business outfit for interviewing. Lucy, as usual, was completely naked. Having not been around for the argument's inception, I couldn't be sure of the root cause. But I gathered it had something to do with the mess.
Lucy, likely overflowing with her own pent-up energy, had decided to spend first light tackling her lately neglected garden. Putting the visual clues together, I figured out that, at some point, she had needed one of those large trash bags that hold yard clippings from the garage. Rather than going around the outside or cleaning herself up first, she had just traipsed right through the middle of the house. Her oversized gardening boots had left mud tracks everywhere she stomped.
Mom had tried to call Lucy out on it. But being notoriously bad at confrontation, her toothless warnings had only inflamed Lucy's indignance. By the time I arrived, the disagreement had spilled beyond its original bounds and into marginally related grievances.
They were trading barbs at a rapid pace, nearly talking over each other. I tried to get their attention and break up the verbal sparring. But their eyes were locked on each other, each one refusing to look away or back down to engage me, making my initial attempts unsuccessful. I kept listening, though, and waited for an opening to present itself.
"-I'm doing the best I can to provide for you kids," mom was saying, "the least you can do is show some respect for your things. Would it be so hard to grab a broom and clean up after yourself every once in a while?"
"Not like anyone would even notice the difference, mother."
"I would notice. I take pride in our possessions, and I expect my children to do the same."
"What possessions? We're so poor, our most valuable possession is this piece of crap!"
Lucy swept her arm derisively toward the centerpiece sitting on the breakfast table. It was a large glass cylinder with a white candle in the middle and a green plastic wreath around the outside. No one would mistake it for a valuable possession. She had only chosen the nearest object to punctuate her point. But she misjudged her swinging arm. Her exaggerated gesticulation accidentally tipped over the glass tube and sent it tumbling to shatter upon the kitchen tile.
Sensing the situation spinning out of control, I moved closer until I was standing right behind Lucy who didn’t acknowledge me in the least. "Hey," I tried to speak with a voice of authority, "that's enough from both of you. There's no need to-" but mom cut me off before I could finish. It kind of pissed me off that they were both ignoring me so completely.
"That's just great! Just keep adding to your pile of slop. Go get the broom and clean this mess up, young lady!"
"Why are you so obsessed with that stupid broom, Deborah? Or should I say 'warden'?"
"Lucy," I interjected, this time more threateningly, "you can't talk to mom like that. You have to be more-"
"You wake up and don't even care enough to put on clothes!" Mom jumped in, interrupting me again. "Well, just because you would rather live like a pig, doesn't mean you get to turn our house into a pigsty! BROOM! NOW!"
"Well, just because you love brooms so much, doesn't give you an excuse to be such a witch! So, you can just-" SMACK!
Lucy had gone too far with that insult. Calling mom a bitch was the last straw. Since no one was listening to my words, and since her naked bottom was already bared right in front of me as the perfect target, I wound up and sent my open palm flying with all my might right at her backside and connected solidly on the plumpest part of her bottom. I wasn't lashing out in anger. It just seemed like the most direct way to get her attention and communicate my disapproval of how she was treating mom. And it was quite effective. The single, loud smack stopped her mid-sentence as she yipped adorably and turned to face her unexpected assailant.
She noticed me for the first time, staring wide-eyed and bewildered. Then, as the pain fully registered, she reached up and started to rub the spot where I had struck her bottom. Using her full name like I had seen mom do before to show I meant business, I began speaking, calmly, but with a quiet edge in my voice.
"Lucy Marie Jenkins, we do NOT resort to name calling in this house."
She should have repented right then but was still wound up and stuck in confrontation mode. "Ok, but you can’t just s...s...spank me!" As she uttered those dreadful words, her eyes started to well up. Even though mom never employed corporal punishment on us growing up, for some reason, Lucy had a thing about spankings. You could call it an irrational fear, or a hang-up. Whatever you call it, when she was younger, the threat alone was usually enough to make her behave.
Mom, relieved to have found an ally in me and struck upon (pardon the pun) a way to keep Lucy's out of control attitude in check, chimed in. "And why not? I think it's a great idea. Michael, from now on, feel free to spank anyone under this roof who engages in name calling."
As she processed mom's new house rule, Lucy regarded my hand warily, as if it might suddenly decide to strike her delicate bottom again. Then a thought came to her. Sensing justice being metered out unequally, she spoke up.
"Wait a minute," she said in accusation, "mom just called me a pig! How come she didn't get a spanking?"
Her logic was sound. Mom basically had called Lucy a pig. And when you really think about it, a witch isn't any worse an insult. But I drew the line at spanking my own mother. At a loss what to do, I looked over at mom for guidance. She considered Lucy's argument for a moment, then made up her mind.
"You're right, Lucy. I shouldn't have called you a pig, and for that, I'm sorry." she said, walking over to me. Then, shockingly, she turned her back to me and leaned over slightly. Resting her palms on the breakfast table, she said, "Go ahead, Michael."
I guess she wanted to be seen as a team player. Justice for all. Lucy, still rubbing the sting from her bottom, wiped away the tear that had started to well up in the corners of her eyes and looked at me expectantly. What else could I do? With a blush forming on my cheeks, I reached out and gave my mother a half-hearted smack on her bottom.
"Hey!" Lucy squealed, sounding not much unlike the aforementioned pig she had just been accused of behaving like; but I wouldn't dare make that comparison aloud, "You didn't spank her nearly as hard as me! Plus, she had clothes for padding. No fair!"
Gathering my thoughts, I fully intended to make a case for why Lucy's demands were unreasonable. Ok, perhaps I hadn't delivered my second swat with the same force and vigor as I had with Lucy’s. But it was enough to drive the message home. Furthermore, it would be patently absurd to require my own mother to submit to a bare bottomed spanking.
But before I could begin voicing my objection, mom caved.
"I guess that makes sense," she said, "but, since you're suddenly so interested in fairness, you have to apologize to me, first."
After Lucy muttered a rather weak "sorry I called you a witch", mom, to my utter astonishment, pulled her gray skirt and panties down and leaned over the bar once again. Reveling in her small victory, Lucy stopped rubbing her bottom and crossed her arms. Her bare foot tapped the ground impatiently. She stared at me, scrutinizing my every move, as if I intended to pull a fast one over on her and it was up to her to make sure I did my job properly this time.
Realizing my mouth was hanging open, I quickly shut it before someone noticed. My mind raced to figure out some other way out of the situation. Coming up empty, I sighed and did what was expected of me; mostly to end the uncomfortable silence. Winding up, and being sure not to hold back this time, I gave mom's larger, but now equally bare, bottom a giant smack. She yipped exactly like her daughter had done and tensed her whole body as the stinging, corrective punishment reverberated through her. From the strained look on her face, I feared that perhaps I had gone a little too hard. But after a couple second, she relaxed and stood up.
Embarrassed, I looked away while mom pulled her skirt and panties back into place. Addressing Lucy, I said, "Now, young lady, go get the broom and clean up this glass."
This time, apparently satisfied by the justice served, she did not protest. Once she was out of the room, mom turned to me with a smile. I could hear the relief in her voice.
"Thank you, Michael," she said, "you don't know how hard it is being responsible for everything all the time. I really appreciate how much you've stepped up and been helping with things lately."
I could hardly believe my ears. I had just spanked my own mother...and she was thanking me?!
She rambled on contemplatively, "...I still don't know what's gotten into her lately. With that attitude, and refusing to wear clothes...now name calling? She just wouldn't listen to me until you came along and gave her what she really needed. I guess you'll just have to take over of the punishment duties from now on. Anyway, I need to get going. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
I nodded. And just like that, I was the official family disciplinarian. I didn't ask for it, and I'm still not quite sure how it happened. But somehow, the mantle fell to me.
The eighth day of Lucy's dare ended up being among the most humiliating experiences of her life to that point. I awoke with a smile and an erection so big, it hurt. I wrongly assumed that by mid-morning, both it and her dare would be addressed and resolved. Eager to get on with my day and full of excess energy, I jumped out of bed and started getting dressed. I was on a mission. All I had to do was pass that stupid test. Fourth time's a charm, right?
But my priorities were disrupted almost immediately by the sound of a disagreement coming from somewhere downstairs. Mom was using her upcoming day off to pursue some promising leads. In addition to checking out some sales positions which sounded similar to her old job, Aunt Julie had finally convinced her to consider becoming a car show booth attendant. I thought it was a mistake to even apply for that one but kept my opinion to myself.
I located the girls in the kitchen in the later stages of a heated argument. Mom had packed a small overnight bag for her trip and was already wearing a nice business outfit for interviewing. Lucy, as usual, was completely naked. Having not been around for the argument's inception, I couldn't be sure of the root cause. But I gathered it had something to do with the mess.
Lucy, likely overflowing with her own pent-up energy, had decided to spend first light tackling her lately neglected garden. Putting the visual clues together, I figured out that, at some point, she had needed one of those large trash bags that hold yard clippings from the garage. Rather than going around the outside or cleaning herself up first, she had just traipsed right through the middle of the house. Her oversized gardening boots had left mud tracks everywhere she stomped.
Mom had tried to call Lucy out on it. But being notoriously bad at confrontation, her toothless warnings had only inflamed Lucy's indignance. By the time I arrived, the disagreement had spilled beyond its original bounds and into marginally related grievances.
They were trading barbs at a rapid pace, nearly talking over each other. I tried to get their attention and break up the verbal sparring. But their eyes were locked on each other, each one refusing to look away or back down to engage me, making my initial attempts unsuccessful. I kept listening, though, and waited for an opening to present itself.
"-I'm doing the best I can to provide for you kids," mom was saying, "the least you can do is show some respect for your things. Would it be so hard to grab a broom and clean up after yourself every once in a while?"
"Not like anyone would even notice the difference, mother."
"I would notice. I take pride in our possessions, and I expect my children to do the same."
"What possessions? We're so poor, our most valuable possession is this piece of crap!"
Lucy swept her arm derisively toward the centerpiece sitting on the breakfast table. It was a large glass cylinder with a white candle in the middle and a green plastic wreath around the outside. No one would mistake it for a valuable possession. She had only chosen the nearest object to punctuate her point. But she misjudged her swinging arm. Her exaggerated gesticulation accidentally tipped over the glass tube and sent it tumbling to shatter upon the kitchen tile.
Sensing the situation spinning out of control, I moved closer until I was standing right behind Lucy who didn’t acknowledge me in the least. "Hey," I tried to speak with a voice of authority, "that's enough from both of you. There's no need to-" but mom cut me off before I could finish. It kind of pissed me off that they were both ignoring me so completely.
"That's just great! Just keep adding to your pile of slop. Go get the broom and clean this mess up, young lady!"
"Why are you so obsessed with that stupid broom, Deborah? Or should I say 'warden'?"
"Lucy," I interjected, this time more threateningly, "you can't talk to mom like that. You have to be more-"
"You wake up and don't even care enough to put on clothes!" Mom jumped in, interrupting me again. "Well, just because you would rather live like a pig, doesn't mean you get to turn our house into a pigsty! BROOM! NOW!"
"Well, just because you love brooms so much, doesn't give you an excuse to be such a witch! So, you can just-" SMACK!
Lucy had gone too far with that insult. Calling mom a bitch was the last straw. Since no one was listening to my words, and since her naked bottom was already bared right in front of me as the perfect target, I wound up and sent my open palm flying with all my might right at her backside and connected solidly on the plumpest part of her bottom. I wasn't lashing out in anger. It just seemed like the most direct way to get her attention and communicate my disapproval of how she was treating mom. And it was quite effective. The single, loud smack stopped her mid-sentence as she yipped adorably and turned to face her unexpected assailant.
She noticed me for the first time, staring wide-eyed and bewildered. Then, as the pain fully registered, she reached up and started to rub the spot where I had struck her bottom. Using her full name like I had seen mom do before to show I meant business, I began speaking, calmly, but with a quiet edge in my voice.
"Lucy Marie Jenkins, we do NOT resort to name calling in this house."
She should have repented right then but was still wound up and stuck in confrontation mode. "Ok, but you can’t just s...s...spank me!" As she uttered those dreadful words, her eyes started to well up. Even though mom never employed corporal punishment on us growing up, for some reason, Lucy had a thing about spankings. You could call it an irrational fear, or a hang-up. Whatever you call it, when she was younger, the threat alone was usually enough to make her behave.
Mom, relieved to have found an ally in me and struck upon (pardon the pun) a way to keep Lucy's out of control attitude in check, chimed in. "And why not? I think it's a great idea. Michael, from now on, feel free to spank anyone under this roof who engages in name calling."
As she processed mom's new house rule, Lucy regarded my hand warily, as if it might suddenly decide to strike her delicate bottom again. Then a thought came to her. Sensing justice being metered out unequally, she spoke up.
"Wait a minute," she said in accusation, "mom just called me a pig! How come she didn't get a spanking?"
Her logic was sound. Mom basically had called Lucy a pig. And when you really think about it, a witch isn't any worse an insult. But I drew the line at spanking my own mother. At a loss what to do, I looked over at mom for guidance. She considered Lucy's argument for a moment, then made up her mind.
"You're right, Lucy. I shouldn't have called you a pig, and for that, I'm sorry." she said, walking over to me. Then, shockingly, she turned her back to me and leaned over slightly. Resting her palms on the breakfast table, she said, "Go ahead, Michael."
I guess she wanted to be seen as a team player. Justice for all. Lucy, still rubbing the sting from her bottom, wiped away the tear that had started to well up in the corners of her eyes and looked at me expectantly. What else could I do? With a blush forming on my cheeks, I reached out and gave my mother a half-hearted smack on her bottom.
"Hey!" Lucy squealed, sounding not much unlike the aforementioned pig she had just been accused of behaving like; but I wouldn't dare make that comparison aloud, "You didn't spank her nearly as hard as me! Plus, she had clothes for padding. No fair!"
Gathering my thoughts, I fully intended to make a case for why Lucy's demands were unreasonable. Ok, perhaps I hadn't delivered my second swat with the same force and vigor as I had with Lucy’s. But it was enough to drive the message home. Furthermore, it would be patently absurd to require my own mother to submit to a bare bottomed spanking.
But before I could begin voicing my objection, mom caved.
"I guess that makes sense," she said, "but, since you're suddenly so interested in fairness, you have to apologize to me, first."
After Lucy muttered a rather weak "sorry I called you a witch", mom, to my utter astonishment, pulled her gray skirt and panties down and leaned over the bar once again. Reveling in her small victory, Lucy stopped rubbing her bottom and crossed her arms. Her bare foot tapped the ground impatiently. She stared at me, scrutinizing my every move, as if I intended to pull a fast one over on her and it was up to her to make sure I did my job properly this time.
Realizing my mouth was hanging open, I quickly shut it before someone noticed. My mind raced to figure out some other way out of the situation. Coming up empty, I sighed and did what was expected of me; mostly to end the uncomfortable silence. Winding up, and being sure not to hold back this time, I gave mom's larger, but now equally bare, bottom a giant smack. She yipped exactly like her daughter had done and tensed her whole body as the stinging, corrective punishment reverberated through her. From the strained look on her face, I feared that perhaps I had gone a little too hard. But after a couple second, she relaxed and stood up.
Embarrassed, I looked away while mom pulled her skirt and panties back into place. Addressing Lucy, I said, "Now, young lady, go get the broom and clean up this glass."
This time, apparently satisfied by the justice served, she did not protest. Once she was out of the room, mom turned to me with a smile. I could hear the relief in her voice.
"Thank you, Michael," she said, "you don't know how hard it is being responsible for everything all the time. I really appreciate how much you've stepped up and been helping with things lately."
I could hardly believe my ears. I had just spanked my own mother...and she was thanking me?!
She rambled on contemplatively, "...I still don't know what's gotten into her lately. With that attitude, and refusing to wear clothes...now name calling? She just wouldn't listen to me until you came along and gave her what she really needed. I guess you'll just have to take over of the punishment duties from now on. Anyway, I need to get going. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
I nodded. And just like that, I was the official family disciplinarian. I didn't ask for it, and I'm still not quite sure how it happened. But somehow, the mantle fell to me.
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Azrael
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Re: Dare Me (new 4/7)
I'm really liking the direction of this story. I'm glad Mikey didn't concede. I can't wait to see what happens when she has deliveries or school. I can't wait for more chapters.
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perseus
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Re: Dare Me (new 4/7)
Well the next part be soon? I'm not sure I'll make it through the weekend leaving it here 
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jojo12026
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Rjun17
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Re: Dare Me (two new 4/4)
Yes I'm waiting and hoping for the same. Hopefully the second last part was just a teaser
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rural_randy
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Re: Dare Me (new 4/7)
This is quite an interesting development. It opens the door to a lot of opportunities for sexy situations. And its been done in a believable way. Lucy needs her attitude corrected and Mikey's control re-established. Its also great to bring the mom back in to the picture. She needs to be involved more. Having her forced to wear revealing cloths as a booth girl or sales woman can certainly up the prurient interest to the story. More interaction with both Lucy and the mom showing off could create interesting dynamics. In general, a lot of these chapters set up situations. Hope that you can turn these situation into many more believable, sexual thrills. For now, looks like you are setting Lucy up for something big next. Thanks for the story.
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