Twelve Months – December

Katey’s Cootchie

Twelve Months – Wednesday, December 1

“Delicious. My compliments.”

“Yeah. My little Katey has become a decent cook. Especially desserts. Though we’ve cut down on those, haven’t we, Little One?”

“She’s better than just decent. And I’m glad you’ve at least stopped calling her ‘Shrimp’.”

“Oh, I still call her that sometimes. That, or “Short Stuff,” or ‘Midget.’”

“That’s worse.”

“In what way?”

“Midget? Well, if I have to explain…. oh whatever, but any of those seem a bit demeaning. ‘Mitchell.’ Even ‘Little One.’”

“I do. You shouldn’t make such a point of her height.”

“She’s not tall.”

“I mean, for you to dwell on it. To harp on it. With a nickname. That’s kind of passive-aggressive.”

“You want that I should be aggressive-aggressive?”

Zander raised his hand. “Please, don’t start bickering again, you two.”

“It’s ’cause she’s in loooove with me,” Mitch toldhim with a mocking chuckle. “Just like my two are so in loooove with you.”

“I mean to ask you,” she said, turning again to Mitch’s girlfriend and seeking to change the subject, “you’ve lost a little weight, haven’t you? Haven’t seen you since, oh, before summer. You’re looking really toned up.”

The petite, short-haired bleach-blonde, clad in a French maid costume, giggled with embarrassment. “About thirty pounds, yeah. All in the boobs, it seems like.

“That’s not quite true,” Mitch said in mock consolation. “Plenty there.”

“You look fantastic,” Robyne, the woman he annoyingly called Bird, agreed.

“I’m barely even a C-cup anymore,” she countered.

Robyne scoffed, not unfortunately. “More information than I was really looking for. Was just paying you a compliment.”

“Isn’t what I mean, either,” Mitch said. “Still carrying a little too much freight in the caboose, is what I’m saying. Yes, you’ve come down. But 135 was too much to start with.”

“If I get down to 98 like you want, I might not have anything left at all. Especially on top.”

“We’ll find out, if you ever get there. Stuck between 103 and 105 lately.”

“Don’t go to extremes,” Robyne told her. “It should be *your* goal, honey. Besides, if Mitchell is going to dress you like that, you can’t be skin and bones.”

“98 isn’t extreme when you’re only four eleven,” Mitch insisted.

“I’m 5 feet. You just keep saying that.”

“Four feet, eleven inches, and a *half*. At most.”

“That rounds up to five. Didn’t they teach you that in math class? You’re supposed to be smart,” Katey said with a laugh.

“I keep thinking,” Robyne mused, “with that short haircut, and especially with the new color… Mitch, are you trying to remake her… into AshLee?”

Mitch snorted. “AshLee? They’re nothing alike. Not personality, not looks, not in… well, AshLee’s a lot smarter, for one thing.”

“Smart enough to move away to Boston.”

“Robyne!” Zander blurted out.

She gave him a look of disapproval, then said to Mitch, “sorry. He’s right. That was uncalled for. But you shouldn’t say things like that either. Katey’s smart enough.”

“I don’t know why you always want to bring her up when I’m around,” Katey said. “She’s ancient history.”

“Yes. I know. Sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned her.” The redhead looked towards Mitch’s other companion and smiled. “You’ve been so quiet this evening. I must say, you look very nice.”

“As a French maid? That’s all fine for her. But the outfit makes *me* look stupid,” Lana replied with eyes abused.

“No! Not at all, Lana,” the beautiful one stated. “I don’t usually go for fetish attire, but you wear it well. It flatters your figure.”

“Thank you, Mistress.” Lana looked her in the eye for the first time, briefly, in acknowledging the compliment.

“Oh, now, you don’t have to be formal, Lana. Robyne is fine. Tell me, has Mitchell started you running too? That’sprobably the one thing he and I have in common.”

The taller, homelier, and more top-heavy woman, dressed in the black and white maid’s attire similar to but not quite matching Katey’s, with dusty-blonde hair done up in twin pigtails, avoided eye contact again. Her extreme pushup bra, like Katey’s, put her mammary assets on display, although the tops of little Katey’s oversized areolas were nearly peeking out above the low-cut bodice. Lana’s prematurely saggy tits had a natural hang that was too low for exposure of her more proportional, which is to say still extremely large, nipples from a mere pushup, but the cleavage showed was immense, although not revealing of her humiliating tattoos there. “Not really,” she said quietly.

“We’ve started,” Mitch contradicted. “Baby steps.”

Robyne, also on the tall side but much prettier in addition to being a redhead, was wearing a more conventional business-casual blouse and skirt that flattered her figure without revealing any ofit. She was more endowed that Katey, proportionately, though of course less so than Lana, in the D-cup range for sure. She was the type of prize that men aspired to, and she knew it; moreover, she made sure Zander, her boyfriend of several years, knew it too. “You should think about it, honey. The benefits of exercise are real.”

“Breaking her in slowly, on that. But, glad you’re enjoying ogling my ladies,” Mitch smiled.

“I’m just talking about her health. Katey looks so much better. I mean in the face – such a healthy glow. Exercise is a good thing. I’m glad if you help encourage that.” She paused and added, “in all your acquaintances.”

“Well, Lana did go with us to the waterfall yesterday,” Katey volunteered. “Five miles, out and back.”

“So,” Mitch responded. “Like I said. Baby steps. Running there? That’ll be a different story. She’s still not used to the altitude.”

“The waterfall up past the summit? Argen-… no. Arsenic Creek? You know there’s supposedly a nude beach if you go down that one trail, instead of up.”

Katey spoke up quickly. “You wouldn’t like it. It’s creepy down there. I went there one time, he took me I mean, but it was all just super-old dudes, and we left.

“I wasn’t trying to suggest anything. It’s too cold now, for one thing. Obviously.”

Mitch snickered. “I figured you’d be the last one interested in that location. Yeah, we can take both of ’em to a nude beach. Maybe you’ll fall in looove with them, *too*.”

Robyne scowled at the impertinence. “I’m just… still trying to wrap my mind around all this. Trying to be… I don’t know. Constructive? Just joking? Is that too much to process?”

“It wasn’t about looove,” Zander said, correctly Taking Mitch’s comment as directed pointedly towards him, while glancing over at his companion. “Only lust. That’s all any of this is about. For you too.”

“My grandma used to sing this song,” Katey said, “Love Makes The World Go Round. Personally,I think Lust is what does it.”

“Underrated,” Zander agreed.

“Yes, but how can I *possibly* know whether I’m in *lust* with *him*,” Robyne asked him sweetly, “when I haven’t even seen his *penis* yet? Lana and Katey here tell me it’s *so* much *biiiiger* than yours.” This was an unlikely statement, since in the infrequency times any description of her lover’s circular twenty-centimeter cock was called for, she would term it long, sleep, and elegant – a handsome specimen. Others more crassly called it fit for a porn video, if ever so slightly on the slender side proportionally.

Mitch purposely ignored her obvious sarcasm and stood up at the head of the dining table and began unzipping, as though to satisfy the implied request.

“I didn’t say it was longer,” Katey disputed gently. “Just that he stretches me more. Across. You know. In a *good* way.”

“This is getting graphic,” Mitch chuckled, as he began fishing around inside his open fly.

“Oh, zip *up*and sit *down*,” the beauty said sharply to him, the sweetness disappearing from her voice as abruptly as it had arrived. “Honestly. For a guy who’s supposedly intelligent, at least in certain ways, you sure can be *dumb*.”

“But you said…”

“Yeah, don’t be a moron, man,” Zander said to his friend. “Maybe we’ve all had a little too much wine.”

Mitch remained standing but zipped back up. “Or, maybe, not enough. I’ve got some brandy that you might be interested in sampling.”

“It’s not just the length, you know,” Katey went on, perhaps feeling that she hadn’t been heard the first time.

“Honey,” Robyne said patiently to her, “I was being ironic. Since, obviously, you know the facts for both of them, while I’m only guessing. Mitch is right, even if it pains me to admit it – it’s not really a dinner table topic. Being graphic.”

“*You’re* the one that said penis,” Katey groused quietly.

“You don’t have to guess,” Mitch said, giving the tab of his zipper a quick care.

“Don’t be cruel,” Robyne said curtly.

“Let him show you,” Katey countered stubbornly. “You’re the one that asked.”

“Got Christmas plans?” Zander asked, this time being the one to change the subject awkwardly.

“Cabo,” Mitch replied, sitting back down. “Again.”

“We’re trying it again, since the last time, uh, didn’t work out,” Katey elaborated. “It’ll be my first time not with my mom for Christman Eve, ever. Even though we’ll change planes right there in Phoenix.”

“The three of you,” Robyne asked leadingly.

“Of course,” Mitch said. “Why? Wanna tag along?”

“Have you traveled, Lana?” Robyne asked, ignoring Mitch’s suggestive comment.

“I grew up near Tucson,” the pigtailed one replied evasively.

“Oh! So did you ever go down to Nogales, and cross the border, to see things over there?”

“No.”

“Oh. Well, you don’t get to know Mexico as it really is, there, anyway. Though, Cabo isn’t much better either, inthat regard. Never outside the US before? You must be excited.”

“I guess.” The subtle condescension wasn’t lost on her.

“Look, why don’t we go to the living room?” Zander interjected, again trying to defend possible hostilities. “We can take our dishes to the kitchen, along the way.”

Robyne did not move. “You know what your problem is, Mitchell? No self-discipline. Just standing up and starting to disrobe at the dining table isn’t acceptable. If we go forward with this, any of this, the lack of discipline has to change. If you lack it, I can give you some. I’m good at that. Just look at Alexander. In fact, in a month, you’ll look back and say I’m the best thing that ever happened to you. But you have to at least try. To show some discipline.”

“Time for a bathroom break?” Mitch asked, pointedly not addressing her comment since he understood the general subtext. Katey shook her head no and Lana just looked away, so he continued, “no? Then come upstairs with me, you two. It would be a good idea, after all we’ve had to drink.” He looked at Zander and added, “you and Bird are welcome to use the guest bath, too.”

“I dunno,” Zander shrugged. “Maybe.”

“And don’t worry about bussing the table,” Mitch replied. “My girls will take care of clean-up, later.”

“Do you even listen to yourself?” Robyne asked, as she stood up. “Your *girls*? *Your* girls?”

“What, I look like a boy?” Katey asked, placing both hands under her breasts and giving them a little bounce for emphasis, and laughing at her own visual joke. “I know what’s expected. She and I both do.”

“Expected? Know your *place*, more like,” the redhead muttered. She looked meanningly towards the other tall woman, who still abused her gaze as she stood to follow Mitch, along with Katey, towards the spiral staircase at the entrance hallway.

“My place? He’s going to breed us,” Katey volunteered with a giggle. “That’s my place with him. And hers too. Maybe it will happen while we’re in Cabo. Maybe right on Christmas Eve. Both of us.”

“Get up the stairs,” Mitch told her with a tone of finality. As he reached the stairs himself, he called back to the guests. “The brandy’s on the coffee table. Help yourself.”

***

Upstairs, Mitch closed the door of the bedroom suite behind them and led the two women into the large bathroom and the proportionally spacious water closet inside. They had each experienced what was about to happen several times in the past month since Svetlana had moved in, so they watched attentively as they had been schooled to do, when Mitch unzipped, took out his aptly described thick, and currently tumor, cock, pulled back the foreskin and let loose a torrent of urine into the toilet, whose seat was already up because, as he occasionally liked to remind these housemates, “my house, my rules.”

Lana looked on with no visible emotion but uttered a quiet “ugh,” while Katey giggled at his exposed member and said “oh, Daddy! It’s so *big*. Do you want me to *suck* it?” She of course had seen it multiple times daily during the past year and had given him oral a majority of those times, so she was just saying this for show.

“We don’t have time for that now. Feeling good, Little One?” he asked Katey solicitously yet pointedly.

“Good? I’m high as fuck, Daddy,” she giggled again, using the term of address that he had required of them both the past month.

He finished pissing and shook a drop or two off. “Well, that explains the nonsense downstairs.”

She didn’t catch on to the fact she was being chatsised. “Guess I’m really rolling,” she said brightly as he began tucking himself back in. The two tablets he had given her, instead of the customary half of one, had been timed not to interfere with the final preparations of dinner but by now had a chance to kick in fully.

“Told you not to stack them,” Lana, who had turned down the offer of a second one herself, said impolitely.

“Shhhhhhh,” Katey said conspiratorially, as though saying something might accidentally cause him to undo the effect somehow.

“Your input’s not needed,” Mitch told the sag-titted one. “Thought the E would at least help cheer you up, Sourpuss.” He finished tucking and zipping up.

Lana ignored that and added, for the other girl’s benefit, “got a headache, or anything, honey?”

“I feel GREAT.”

“Here, sit down,” he told Katey.

She put down the seat and lifted the hem of her costume and, because she was wearing no panties, thereupon sat down. “Totally fucked up,” she added. “But GREAT.”

With a quick flip, he exposed her large nipples by pulling at the top of her extreme push-up bra which completed her French maid costume. Then he placed his left hand around her neck and squeezed gently, just enough to assert his dominance but not constrict her windpipe, and this had the desired effect of wiping the insipid grin off her face. It was a milder form of the technique that Lonnie the pimp had taught him for dealing with Lana the day the cryptocurrency transaction had gone through, and the purchase of the whore was completed, although with Lana it had been necessary to actually choke her out one time that first week, to really establish that the need for obedience hadn’t changed just because ownership had. For that matter, in the two weeks following, he had reached out to both Mrs. Goodpussy and his ex-housecleaner María, because he believedly realized he might have bitten off more than he could chew by taking in a woman only recently out of prison, and he picked their brains for tactics to ensure compliance from his emerging harem of two submissive partners. The removal of bathroom privacy was thus just another of the methods he now used, to assert his place above them both, and they each were accustomed to it happening from time to time.

He resumed his chatisement now that he felt he had her attention. “We need to make thisquick, because I have to get back downstairs and make sure our guests don’t get bored. First, make sure you don’t call me Daddy in front of her. On second thought, if you’re high as fuck, like you say, then don’t call me anything at all in front of her. Maybe don’t *say* anything at all. The idea is that you’re supposed to *help* persuade Bird to suck my cock. *Not* scare her off.” He took his hand off of her throat.

“Okay, Daddy.” She giggled vacantly.

“Are you even listening? Whatever. So, what the fuck was that about? Downstairs. About breeding you? Are you stupid? That hasn’t been decided yet. Why bring that up now? In front of her?”

“I’m sorry,” she said earnestly, looking up at his eyes. The sound of her urine hitting the water and mixing with his was muffled but unmistakable. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Let me see. See you piss. Spread your legs, Midget. Like you do for *him*. For Z.”

“I only spread my legs for *you*, Daddy,” she said coquettishly, speaking only of recent history that he occasionally knew of. Widening her stance on the seat, she pulled the bottom of the maid dress higher so he could see as far up as her bleached ‘landing strip’ of hair. “Unless you *tell* me to,” she added with an exaggerated air of innocent.

He put his left hand around her throat again, and this time slapped her face once, lightly, with his other hand. “I told you. Don’t call me Daddy tonight.”

This seemed to get her attention a little better. “I’m sorry, Da-… uh, what I am supposed to say?”

“Just don’t call me anything, okay?” He turned to Lana, and added, “same goes for you. In front of Bird, nothing, or call me Sir if you have to call me anything.”

“I’m not stupid.”

He gave Lana a brief look of Disapproval, but said to Katey, “just so you know, I know what you and he did yesterday.”

He expected some kind of ‘tell’, like a little intake of breath, or a downward cast of the eyes that would give her away. “Yesterday?” he imagined she might ask, “who? I didn’t go *anywhere* yesterday, except to the store, quick quick, to get those ribs you like when I saw they were on sale. I swear, that was all. You can check the odometer on the Audi.” Some kind of elaborate fabrication like that; it was how she always reacted to the stress of an accusation.

He expected, in turn, to respond with something like, “don’t lie to me, Midge. Z told me everything. You wanted him to come over, while I was down there at my meeting, behind my back. Seduced him with a promise of a blow job like always, but you talked him into finishing in your slut cunt. Don’t deny it. He told me *everything*. Now I want to hear it from you.” And so on, back and forth, dragging the truth out of her, bit by bit. He had the basic Information, from the tracking software he’d installed on the new cellphone he’d given her when she moved in, which gave him geographic location and content of text messages and the numbers of the phones she called, but he wanted to get her to admit the humiliating truth, that even though he’d caught her and Z in the act almost two months earlier, and in the meantime constructed this plan where the two households would share each other’s pleasures pairwise or eventually in a group… even though she and Z knew this was the plan, they still had sneaked in a quickie the previous afternoon. He wanted to humble her over this.

But no. She just looked at him blankly, and said, “okay.” She was acknowledging that he knew.

Lana broke in a little too quickly. “*I* didn’t see anything. Sir.”

“I’m done,” Katey pointed out, referring to her urination.

“Don’t change the subject. Sit there like a good girl. Do you need to shit? You should do that while you have the chance.”

“Don’t need to.”

“Well, sit there and try, and while you do that, look at me. I’m going to explain something to you.”

She looked up at him expectedly. “Yes, Daddy? Daddy daddy daddy.” She giggled at her joke, or disobedience, or whatever she thought it was.

He grabbed her lightly by the throat again and gave her left cheek a milk slap. “I said, don’t call me that tonight. So, when we go back downstairs, you’re gonna suck cock. *His* cock.” He was in his careful mode of speech now, refraining from soft turns of phrase like ‘I want you to,’ or even ‘you know what you’re gonna do?’ that might unintentionally suggest room for negotiation when he intended none. Only direct and simple sentences, important or declarative, just as Mrs. Goodpussy had explained to him. “In front of *her*,” he added, meaning Robyne. “Let her see with her own eyes what kind of slut you are.”