In Loco Parentis

Eagen finished brushing her straight black hair and smiled into the mirror. What hair, what teeth...I look like Elvira, Mistress of the Dark. Eagen heard muffled sobbing from upstairs.

Poor Piaget. Eagen had cuffed Piaget to an eyehole in the broom closet, and the only way down was to open an old combination lock that was suspending her wrists over her head.

Piaget couldn't see the lock, of course.

The fifty-two year old periodontist was using the tips of her long nails to move the combination around. Although in her dental career, Piaget was quite dexterous, the fiddling with the combo showed a bit of clumsiness on her part.

And as she moved, she bumped hard into the closet door, which hurt her nose, and it kept reducing her to angry tears.

Eagen looked over to the corner of the living room, and Chaz was still standing there, his bare bottom on display, and his pants around his ankles.

Scars and welts covered his pudgy rear cheeks, and he'd spent most of the afternoon howling as Eagen had dutifully made the Ping-Pong paddle sting.

Last year, when Eagen moved in with Piaget and Chaz, they'd just been her foster parents.

At nineteen, it was odd to live with such strangers, but Eag's mother was a hapless schizophrenic, and whenever a spell hit, she'd had to be institutionalized.

The Ping-Pong paddle came from when Momma had used to be Table Tennis champ at the state prison, and Eagen had taken it with her when the state had come to take Mom away.

Eagen had just kept the paddle as a memory, but she'd been very unsuspecting when it had come to use in dealing with her new guardians.

Now Eagen was twenty, and in some months she would turn twenty-one. Poor Mom showed no sight of recovering her sanity this time.

But Eagen had a feeling that she wouldn't have to hit the street. Piaget and Chaz seemed somewhat attached to her.

"Chaz, come out of the corner now, and stand in front of me."

Eagen leaned back on the couch and crossed her long legs. She favored leather miniskirts.

Chaz brought home a new skirt every week, it seemed. Suede, sometimes.

Chaz ran a leather shop, and just yesterday, Eag had tried out all the new whips, riding crops and rattans on his bare buttocks...quality control, you understand.

She'd also put one of the saddles on Piaget's back when she'd dropped in and rode her around the store, whipping the old bag's bare ass with a riding crop.

Now, Chaz stood in front of Eagen. His penis was bulging in the little plastic pink cage. Today might be his lucky day!

"Now you know, Chaz, although I was annoyed with you for playing with my lacy unmentionables earlier, the paddle seems to have righted your sins."

Chaz blushed.

"Do you have the M&M's?"

Chaz turned and shuffled, his crimson buttocks bouncing under his ugly blue sweater, to the coffee table. He brought back a big yellow bag of peanut M&M's.

"Now I hope-" Eagen's eyes darkened, and her eyebrows furrowed. "Move your eyes from my tits to my face, you old pervert."

Chaz bit his lip. He knew what was coming next.

"You just don't learn, do you?" Eagen reached next to her and picked up the table tennis paddle, and drummed her long red nails on it. "Do you ever think about anything else besides my big tits?"

"W-Well, Eagen, you wear those tiny-"

Oops, he realized that was a mistake, didn't he? Chaz put his hands over his mouth.

"What's that? It's MY FAULT?"

Eagen grabbed Chaz's arm and pulled him over her knee, hearing, with gratification, Chaz begin sobbing in anticipation of his condign punishment.

WHACK! THWACK! SNAP! TWACK!

Twenty times the paddle bounced off Chaz's tender bottom. He tried not to show it, and cinched his ass together, but the drubbing of the paddle spurred him to a volley of fresh tears.

Finally, Eagen shoved him off her lap, and he stood, weeping again, but through the blurred tears, he watched her chest bob as she breathed impatiently.

Upstairs, Piaget finally exited the closet, her face sweaty and her body exhausted. She had been trying to get the combination for nearly ninety minutes. Her hands were still cuffed, because the key was locked in a block of ice.

It wasn't a huge block, but Piaget would have to wait for a bit of time before it melted. She had hoped to play a round of golf and watch a college basketball game with her girlfriends, but darling Eagen had put the kybosh on that.

Downstairs, Piaget could guess what was happening.

Chaz and Eagen were playing the M&M game.

Every two weeks, Chaz would buy a bag of M&M's that he couldn't actually eat, as he was diabetic. Eagen would rip open the bag with her teeth and tell Chaz to reach his hand in and take out one candy.

If Chaz picked out a blue M&M, Eagen would put on a hot little piece of lingerie, and Chaz would be given the key to his belt, and be able to spend twenty minutes masturbating as she pushed her tits together, and gave him flashes of her nipples.

Then, Chaz would cum, and be able to wipe up his nasty with a Kleenex. A Blue M&M was something to hope for.

If Chaz drew a green candy, he had up to ten minutes to finish, but he could only use his left hand. Usually, somewhere during that time, Eagen would swing out one of her Doc Marten boots and slam him in the nuts, but if he was lucky, he could get hard again and finish within the time limit.

And, he'd have to use his tongue to clean up his spooge.

In this case, Eagen would not change into a sexy nightie, but she still looked damn good in her sweater and miniskirt. Often Piaget would take Eagen shopping and find her even cooler stuff!

If Chaz got a red M&M, he had his hands cuffed behind his back and was blindfolded, and had to rub his penis against the floor and had five minutes to make a mess, and he'd have to lick it up.

In addition, along with not being able to stare at Eag's cute tits and legs, when he jacked off and came, she would usually throw a cigarette butt in the puddle, and he'd have to lick up the entire thing.

And so it went. This all would seem so cruel, except of course that Chaz was the writer of the contract, and his foster daughter was just giving him what he deeply needed.

In return she did no chores and got non-stop cunnilingus from both of them, and repetitive use of their Lamborghini.

Downstairs, Piaget heard a scream. Oh dear. He must've drawn the dreaded BROWN M&M. That meant Eagen was pulling out the cattle prod.