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)