Bedding the Babysitter Ch 05
Introduction:
Jenny’s Mom tells how she ended up a sub to an 18-year-old.
Summary: Jenny’s Mom tells her how she ended up submitting to an 18-year-old cheerleader.
Note 1: This chapter takes place immediately after the end of part 4.
Note 2: A special thanks goes to Steve B and estragon for their tireless editing efforts in this and many of my other works.
Note 3: Narration summary:
Parts 1 and 2 were told from the point of view of the original seductress…Megan.
Part 3 and 4 were told by babysitter-turned-cheerleader sub Jenny.
Part 5 is told by Jenny’s Mom, Amy Wyatt, as she retells her shocking story of submission to her daughter, prompted by her daughter’s friend, Karen.
Story Notes:
This story was tougher to write for me. In the end it is told both in the present, in the past and eventually as a flashback. To make the distinctions clearer the normal font is the past, the italics is the present and the bold is the flashback.
MOM’S STORY
Karen’s cum glistening from my face, I was ordered by my new Mistress and my daughter’s cheerleading friend, to tell my only daughter how I came to be tied up on my own bed, a vibrator in my vagina, and her friend straddling my face.
I began retelling the story, still handcuffed and lying on my bed, completely vulnerable in front of my daughter. “I knew something was up the first time I met Karen, that morning you became a cheerleader. She just seemed to have something about her I couldn’t put my finger on. ”
Luckily, as I began to tell my humiliating story of submission, Karen untied my wrists from their tight restraints. I thanked the 18-year-old, “Thank you, Mistress.”
“You’re welcome, Mommy slut,” she replied, my shame going another shade deeper.
I continued, “That said, I was way more baffled by my daughter’s transformation overnight than I was by her pretty cheerleader friend.”
Karen, sitting beside me now, did one quick pump with the toy inside me.
I whimpered, and went on.“But my attention began to shift without me even knowing it when Karen offered me a foot massage. As Karen so gently caressed my feet, I felt a long forgotten tingle in my vagina, one that had been largely ignored since your father passed.”
“Your what, slut?” Karen reprimanded.
“Sorry, Mistress, my cunt. I felt a tingle in my cunt. When you two were getting ready to leave, I couldn’t believe that I purposely stretched, trying to showcase my big breasts to Karen. When Karen kissed me on the cheek, ever-so-delicately, I felt a chill go up my back. When she hugged me, her hand resting on my ass, I finally concluded that Karen was flirting with me. Yet, instead of being flattered, I was mortified that I had allowed her to massage my feet and even more stunned that I both liked it and wanted her touch more. Once you two were gone, I went directly to my bedroom and masturbated myself to a very intense orgasm, my first good one since your father died. Once my orgasm had faded, I was embarrassed by my impulsive actions and promised myself I would not let such innocent flirting, if she was even flirting at all, distract me.”
“You seem pretty distracted right now, dyke,” Karen pointed out, while beginning to fuck me slowly with the toy.
“Y-y-yes, that is true,” I agreed, unable to deny my newfound desire to come. I continued telling my daughter my complete fall from grace, “Obviously I couldn’t control my desire. When I came into Jenny’s room the following day or two, whenever it was, I realized two things: one, I had a small crush on my daughter’s new friend and two, my daughter was a lesbian.”
“How did you know that?” Karen led me on.
“At the time, it was just a hunch. As for you, Karen, well, I knew I had a crush on you the second you came into my house and kissed me on both cheeks again. I instinctively almost moved in for a kiss on your lips, but held back barely at the last second. But when you complimented me, ‘Mrs. Wyatt, you look amazing today,’ I was putty. When I felt your hand just touching my ass, any doubts I had that you were just really friendly were put to rest. As watched you leave, my vagina, I mean my cunt, tingled uncontrollably as I checked out your amazing legs from behind. Once you two went upstairs, I took a long cold drink of water, trying to ignore my inappropriately building fascination with my daughter’s 18-year-old cheerleader friend.”
“Did you masturbate downstairs, my slave?” Karen inquired.
“No, Mistress. I controlled my desires, but then I heard your scream and rushed up the stairs. As soon as I entered the room, I knew that my daughter was a lesbian.”
“How did you conclude that?” Karen curiously asked, the toy now fully inside me.
“The sexual tension in the room and Jenny’s ruby red cheeks implied she was guilty about something. Your red face and slightly heavy breathing, Karen, was the next clue. There was no way you stubbed your toe. Then you asked me to check your toe and I knew this was where I should have said no, but instead I knelt down beside you, suddenly feeling absurdly nervous. I could smell your sex instantly and when I looked up, I could see your shaved cunt glistening. I instantly concluded my precious daughter’s face had just been between these legs. I then gave you a massage as requested, my own cunt beginning to uncontrollably leak into my panties. I couldn’t resist and took many quick glimpses between your legs and into your cunt. Once done and you kissed me on both cheeks again, I panicked and wanted to leave. Just as I was leaving, I glanced at my daughter, who was staring at me, her face shiny with what I assumed was your juice. Stunned and completely out of my element, I quickly left the room. I was rattled the rest of the evening, long after you left. Supper with my daughter was awkward, as I knew what she had done and I felt like she knew exactly what I was feeling. That evening, alone in my bed again, I masturbated myself to not one, not two, but three orgasms, imagining it was me between your legs, not my daughter. I couldn’t believe that instead of protecting my daughter against your powerful sexuality, I was envious of her lesbian opportunity.”
“Do you want to cum, slut?” Karen asked.
“Yes, Mistress,” I honestly replied.
“In front of your daughter?” Karen continued attempting to humiliate me.
“Yes, Mistress,” I replied, ashamed but defeated.
Pulling the toy out of me, a loud swish sound as it exited, she explained, “Well, once you are done, I will fuck you to an orgasm.”
“Yes, Mistress,” I responded, unable to hide my excitement at the opportunity of being fucked by the 18-year old Domme cheerleader.
I continued, still avoiding eye contact with my daughter, “So then, on the weekend, while you girls were at your cheerleading retreat, I searched Jenny’s computer.”
“Mom,” Jenny gasped, “how could you?”
I looked at my daughter for the first time in a while, and answered apologetically, “I’m so sorry, honey. You know I have always respected your privacy, but with the changes in you and the changes in me, I had to know.”
I could see the devastation of my betrayal in her eyes, oddly more than I had seen when she first saw me in this sexual predicament. She muttered, “I can’t believe you would do that.”
Karen ended the drama. “Enough with the pretented shock Jenny. You knew I was going to seduce and fuck your Mom, and you didn’t do anything to stop it.”
It was my turn to be shocked. “You did?”
Jenny, now on the defensive, said, “That’s not true. Well I suppose it is, but I never in a million years thought you would actually succumb to her charm. It was just way too preposterous notion.” She paused, looked at me with a facial expression that confused me, and went on, “But apparently it wasn’t so preposterous after all.”
My head was reeling with all of this new information, yet it didn’t change anything. Whether Jenny knew or not, it was still me who submitted to Karen.
Getting back to the story at hand, my utter submission to my daughter’s friend, I continued, “Anyways, as I searched Jenny’s computer, I kept getting surprise after surprise. First, I found she frequently visited a website called Literotica and read almost exclusively lesbian fiction. I read some of the stories she had saved on her hard drive and many were similar, submissive lesbian stories. My daughter was clearly a lesbian, clearly submissive and clearly just beginning to learn about her sexuality. I have to admit when I read the story Training Teacher, I actually came hard, imagining myself as the teacher during that seductive parent-teacher interview. I copied the links to some other stories to read at a later date on my own private laptop before continuing to search her computer. I eventually found some saved chats. The more I read the more stunned and shocked I became at what my baby, my sweet innocent Jenny, had been up to right under my nose. I read chats from a Dr. Meg, who was clearly seducing my daughter and read later chats of my Jenny attempting rather bluntly to submit to some stranger online.”
Karen, always one for shock value, announced, “Do you know who Dr. Meg is?”
“No, idea,” I replied, although I was very curious.
“Your next door neighbour,” Karen revealed.
“No!” I responded, visibly shocked. Karen babysat for Meg. She had a young child. It didn’t seem possible.
“Yes,” Karen rebutted, “isn’t that so, Jenny?”
Jenny whispered, almost inaudibly, “Yes.”
“And actually, she is Jenny’s and my Mistress,” Karen revealed.
I couldn’t imagine someone more powerful than Karen, as I responded, slightly dazed by yet another bombshell, “I don’t believe it.”
“Believe it, slut, you will soon be on your knees submitting to her too,” Karen proclaimed.
Megan was a beautiful woman, one whom only a few days previously I had considered as just a friendly, sweet neighbour. But now, with my naughty side unleashed, I could imagine her exactly as Karen described, a powerful Mistress to please.
“Would you like to submit to Megan?” Karen asked.
“Do I have a choice?” I responded.
“We always have a choice,” Karen pointed out.
I realized she was right. I could have prevented this submission from occurring. But a dark side of me, a side I had held in check for a long time, had finally come out of hiding, and once out, there was no going back. “Yes, I suppose so,” I responded, trying to avoid being too committal.
Karen waved her hand dismissively, “We can talk about your submission to your daughter’s Mistress later. Please continue your story.”
I had to think briefly, to remember where I left off, before I continued, “Well, I decided I would have to confront Jenny when she returned from her cheerleading retreat, although I really had no idea how to go about it. I didn’t want her to know I had been on her computer and reading her private stuff. Conflicted and confused, I shut down her computer and contemplated how I would deal with this. I still hadn’t come up with a concrete plan I liked when she returned last night. I had planned to deal with it today somehow, but I guess that is rather irrelevant now.”
“I would say so,” Karen chuckled.
Ignoring Karen’s chuckle and the implications that went along with it, I continued my story, “So, that night, I must confess, I spent hours online, reading story after story on the Literotica website, in the lesbian section. Occasionally, I would click on a story at the end of another story that had similar themes. This led me to the occasional group sex story and, I hate to admit it, a few incest stories. It wasn’t the incest that turned me on, but the utter submission of the mother that did. For example, I…no, never mind.”
“You can’t start and then leave us hanging,” Karen teased.
“No, it’s not important,” I responded, attempting to make it seem like it really was nothing.
“You don’t want to be punished in front of your daughter, do you?” Karen threatened.
“No!” I quickly responded, terrified at what the sexy but powerful teen might do. My face flushed with embarrassment, I admitted, “There was a story called ‘Mommies Make Good Puppies’ and it was about a daughter who dominated her Mom and made her her pet, like a puppy. I can’t explain it, but such utter submission had me so wet, I ended up fucking myself with a brush.”
“You don’t have toys?” Karen asked, flabbergasted.
“No,” I admitted.
“Well, we will change that very soon,” Karen promised.
“Ok,” I agreed, although the smirk on her face had me slightly worried.
“So you fucked yourself with a brush fantasizing about being your daughter’s pet?”
“No, no, no,” I adamantly denied, “I got off on the utter submission, not the incest part.”
“Sure, sure,” Karen responded, dismissing my reasoning.
“No, really,” I countered, desperate to end this incest talk, especially with my daughter in the room.
“Jenny, would you like a new pet?” Karen asked.
My mouth dropped open, mortified at the question. Jenny luckily had the same mindset as me, “No.”
“You sure? Mommy seems like she would be a good little pet. A very obedient little pet,” Karen teased, clearly trying to humiliate me even further.
Jenny shook her head, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation.
Karen shrugged, looking directly at me, “Whatever. So then what happened, slut?”
Thankful the awkward incest conversation was over, I continued, “The next day I did my best to avoid the temptation of my newfound libido, but I ended up spending a few more hours on Literotica. I learned I could search my tags and searched under the lesbian category using tags like submissive, blackmailed, domination, teenager. I don’t know how many times I got off that day, but it was more than a dozen.”
“Wow,” Karen responded, impressed, “When the dam breaks, it really breaks.”
I blushed again, although my face was probably stuck on ruby red forever. Ignoring her comment, I continued, “Which I guess leads us to today.”
“Oh, yes it does,” Karen responded, her sexual innuendo impossible to miss.
I paused, pondering how to even start the bizarre events that led to me in this submissive predicament, this humiliating, yet utterly enthralling submission.
“Let’s go, slut, I don’t have all day,” Karen prodded.
I let out a sigh and began, “So that leads to how I ended up here.”
“And your final submission as my slut,” Karen gloriously added.
“Yes,” I agreed, my shame burning so hot I thought I would look like I was on fire.
“Anyways, there was a knock on the door just before twelve. I was still in my robe, having a very lazy Sunday, quite frankly. I opened the door and it was Karen in her usual cheerleading costume. I told her that you were out at the mall or something, but she said she was here to see me. I invited her in, confused at why she would possibly be here to see me.”
“But your cunt knew, didn’t it?” Karen vulgarly proclaimed.
“I don’t know. I don’t think so, honestly. It didn’t hit me at that moment what your intentions might have been,” I admitted.
“So Karen came into my house and I offered her some iced tea. She agreed and I went into the kitchen to get some. Karen followed and sat down at the table. Once I had poured the iced tea, I returned to the table and sat down.”
Karen pushed the toy fully into my cunt and demanded, “Close your legs, slut.” I obeyed. The toy was now a major distraction.
I continued telling the humiliating story to my daughter, although I changed my narration to tell the story with the dialogue as I remembered it.
I asked, “What can I do for you Karen?”
Karen smiled, “I need some advice.”
“OK,” I replied, “What’s your problem?”
“Well, you may have guessed this already, but I am a lesbian,” she revealed, rather frankly.
I was slightly surprised by her secret, although in retrospect it made perfect sense, although my first thought was to ask if she made my daughter one too. “That is ok, my dear, this is 2011,” I comforted, knowing this was a delicate situation.
“Oh, I know,” she confidently responded, “It’s just how do I tell my Mother? She will freak!”
“Hmmm,” I pondered, “I don’t know, but I have found that honesty is always the answer, although at first there may be a rough patch.”
“How would you respond if Jenny told you she was a lesbian?” Karen asked.
A week ago, it would have shocked me to my core. But now, I just assumed she was. The evidence was all there. “Well, I would support her, of course. I mean, being a woman in the world today is tough enough. Being a lesbian in a man’s world is even tougher. I would hate for her to be an outcast or ridiculed because of her sexual orientation.”
“So you would be ok with it?” Karen questioned.
“Yes, although I’d rather her be straight and eventually get married and have kids and all the other typical American family dream stuff,” I answered honestly, hoping that my daughter was just curious and not actually gay.
“It’s 2011, Mrs. Wyatt, she can still get married and have kids,” Karen pointed out, using my own words against me.
“Oh, I know,” I agreed, but rationalized, “but it will still be tougher to live in today’s society as a gay couple.”
She shrugged, before asking me a question I was not expecting, “Have you ever had a lesbian experience, Mrs. Wyatt?”
“My goodness, no,” I responded.
“Does such an idea disgust you?” Karen asked, her facial expression and tone showing I had offended her.
“Oh, no, no, no,” I tried to recover, “It’s just I grew up in a much more black and white time. You met a boy, got married, had kids, and so forth. Being a lesbian was like being from the wrong side of the tracks.”
“So you have never thought another woman was attractive?”
“Oh sure, I mean I know when a woman is good looking. I have often compared myself to other women, especially when I was married and I saw my hubby checking out younger women.”
“But you never were tempted to do anything with one?”
“No,” I honestly answered, confused at how this conversation had shifted from being about Karen’s coming out to my own non-lesbian lifestyle.
“Never?” she asked, her tone shifting in a way I can’t explain, but implied she thought I was lying.
I too quickly responded, “No, never.”
At that moment, Karen spilt her still half-full glass of iced tea onto her cheerleader’s top. “Oh shit,” she cursed, “I’m so clumsy. If this stains, coach will kill me. I have already wrecked one this year.”
Instantly in Mother-crisis mode, I ordered, “Here, hand it to me. I’ll throw it in the wash.”
She quickly obeyed and stunned me even more when I learned she was not wearing a bra and her young, firm breasts were directly in front of me. I stood still in a slight daze, staring at her breasts. Karen asked, her tone innocent and sweet, “Is anything wrong, Mrs. Wyatt?”
Her words brought me back to reality and I stammered, pretending her firm naked breasts had no effect on me, “N-n-n-n-no, nothing. I’ll go and throw this in the wash.”
I began to leave, but Karen said, “Stop. I got some on my skirt too.” She quickly slipped out of her skirt and was now in only beige thigh high stockings and what appeared to be a pink thong. I wordlessly took the skirt and shirt and quickly rushed downstairs, my head a mess. While I tossed the clothes in my washing machine, I tried to get my head straight. I couldn’t erase Karen’s breasts from my mind. I took a deep breath and chanted to myself, ‘I am not a lesbian’. Finally confident in my self-control, I went back upstairs. Karen was still sitting at the kitchen table, still half-naked.
“I better go and get you a robe,” and quickly went to Jenny’s bedroom. I returned and handed her the robe.
She stood up, “Can you put it on for me?”
A strange request, but wanting her covered up to prevent the impact it was having on me, I obliged. My hands shook slightly as I was so close to this young girl who had caused me to question my sexuality. She stood still and once it was on, she turned around so she was eye to eye with me. She leaned in, I thought to kiss me on the lips, but instead kissed my cheek. A tingle spread to my cunt and I desperately tried to ignore it.
She excused herself to go to the washroom and I waited, the whole time trying to extinguish the fire that was getting hard to ignore. She came back down a couple of minutes later and sat across from me. She returned to our conversation, as if it didn’t miss a beat. “So you have never…ever…thought about another girl sexually?”
“I didn’t say that,” I replied, attempting to make a joke about it.
“So, you have thought of a girl sexually?” she asked, her tone giving just a hint of flirtation.
“I imagine every woman has at some point,” I responded, attempting desperately to make it seem casual.
“Ya think?” she smiled, as I confirmed to myself that she was indeed flirting with me. While my head tried to resist the temptation, the fire down below was getting harder to ignore.
I shrugged, desperately attempting to keep it casual, “Of course.”
I heard a bump on the table and Karen curse, “Ouch, shit, I stubbed my toe again.”
“Are you OK?” I asked, motherly instinct again taking over.
“I think so, can you come and take a look?” she asked.
Without thinking, I dropped to the floor and took her stocking foot into my hand. “I don’t see anything hurt, Karen. I think you…” I began and, as I moved my head to look up, I saw her completely uncovered pussy, her robe casually falling to the side.
“Do you like what you see, Mrs. Wyatt?” Karen asked, her smile giving away any last innocence that may have existed.
“P-p-pardon?” I stammered, thrown by the sudden shift in context.
“You heard me, Mrs. Wyatt, do you like looking at my cunt?” she asked, before adding “You sure seemed to the other day.”
I began to stand up, but felt her hand on my shoulder. “Don’t get up yet, Mrs. Wyatt. Take a good look at the cunt your daughter loves to savour.”
Hearing her confirm my suspicions about my daughter sent a chill up my back, but I obeyed and stayed on my knees staring at the teen’s shaved cunt. It looked so inviting. I couldn’t explain it, but suddenly I wanted nothing more than to taste my daughter’s friend’s cunt. I knew I should stand up, end this silliness right now, but instead I just stared like a teen boy at his first strip show.
“You want to savour it too, don’t you, Mrs. Wyatt?” she teased, opening her legs wider.
I didn’t say anything, although the fact that I was on my knees, in my kitchen, staring at her cunt, was probably the answer already. I tried to resist, to stand up, but I couldn’t. I was helpless and completely at the whim of this beautiful 18-year-old.
“Answer me slut!” she roared, startling me completely.
Being called a slut should have brought me back to reality. I was definitely not a slut. But instead the harsh derogatory name had my pussy getting damper. I stammered like a shy fool, “I-I-I-I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? Really?” she teased, sliding her finger inside her cunt. I watched in voyeuristic awe as she pumped her finger in and out. After a few seconds, she pulled it out and brought it towards my lips.
Without even thinking, I leaned forward and opened my mouth. She pulled her finger back a bit, although her scent lingered just above my nose. “Beg to suck my finger,” she ordered.
I again could have prevented this; stopped my humiliating fall, but all I wanted was to suck her finger, to taste her juice. “Karen, can I please lick your finger?”
“Are you sure?” she questioned, the sticky finger just lingering there in front of me.
Each question slowly weakened me, “Yes.”
“Yes what?” she asked.
“Yes, Karen?” I replied, unsure what she wanted me to say.
She explained, “As soon as your mouth touches my finger, you are mine. I will be your Mistress and you will be my slut. My cunt. My lez. Is that understood?”
The harsh reality she presented me had me reconsider my desire to submit to her. I was not a lesbian! Or a cunt! While I pondered this, she put her finger back in her cunt, coating her fingers with her juice. She brought it to my lips, and said, raising the temptation ten-fold, “Just so you know what you will be missing if you decline.”
As soon as her finger touched my lips, I extended my tongue and tasted the forbidden fruit. I didn’t know what I thought it would taste like, but one subtle taste and I craved more. I moved to satisfy my craving, but she again moved it away.
“So you are ready to submit to me completely?” she asked.
“Yes,” I whimpered without hesitation, my panties now sticky with my own fluid.
“Yes what?”
“Yes, Mistress,” I announced, officially committing to a position I didn’t yet completely comprehend.
She rewarded me by putting her finger at my lips. “Good slut, clean my finger.”
I obeyed, eagerly, like a puppy being rewarded for doing a trick. I savoured her juice, using my lips and tongue to get every drop of juice from her finger.
Once done, she asked, “Do you want to get some directly from the source, Jenny’s Mommy?”
Throwing in my daughter’s name was obviously used to shame me even more, but I was in far too deep to back down now. My eyes stared at the wet, shining pussy directly in front of me. “Yes, Mistress,” I submitted.
Karen repositioned herself so her pussy was at the end of the chair and only inches from my face. “Do you like what you see?” she teased.
“Yes, Mistress,” I responded, a slight moan escaping me.
“Are you wet, slut?” she questioned.
Humiliated, I shook my head in the affirmative.
“Give me your panties,” she demanded, before adding, “actually, get naked slut.”
Mortified, I stood up, pulled open my robe and allowed it to drop to the floor. In only my nightie and panties, I felt instantly vulnerable. No one had seen me naked since my husband passed. I trembled like a drug addict going too long without a fix as I struggled to get my nightie over my head. Once in only my panties, I hesitated.
“The panties too, slave.”
The word slave had extra leakage dampening my panties for some unfathomable reason. I obeyed and she took my panties. “Holy shit, slut, you are soaking wet! Why?”
“I don’t know,” I honestly answered standing naked in my own kitchen.
“Don’t you?” she teased, pulling my hand, implying I should fall back onto my knees. Once on my knees again, she added, “I think you know exactly why you are wet. You want to be my slut, a lesbian sub just like your daughter. You are in exactly the same position your precious little dyke daughter was just a few days ago…on her knees between my legs in this very house. Are you ready to submit completely?”
“Yes, Mistress, I will do anything,” I admitted, attempting to ignore the humiliating reality she kept reminding me I was in.
“I like that. I like that answer very much,” she purred. “Go ahead slut, taste your prize.”
I leaned forward, full of trepidation, slowly. The closer I got to her wet cunt the more intoxicated I got with the scent alone. Finally, after so many years, I finally tasted my first pussy, and as soon as I did, I knew there was no turning back. I licked slowly at first, but once her pussy got wetter from my tongue and the juices began to leak, I became determined to get more and more juice. I licked and I sucked. I probed her pussy lips with my tongue, penetrating her pussy with my tongue, wanting nothing more than to bury myself inside her cunt. Her whimpers became moans, and after a few minutes of random licking and sucking, I felt her hand on the back of my head, pulling me in deeper. I was soon rewarded for my eagerness with an explosion of her cum coating my mouth, lips and nose. She held my face tight against her pussy till long after her orgasm had subsided. Once done, she said, “Well, you are an eager little beaver, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Mistress,” I replied, oddly thrilled by her approval, my face sticky with her cum.
“Crawl to your bedroom, slut, we are just getting started,” she informed me.
My pussy tingled with anticipation at the pleasure I desperately wanted to feel. I fell onto all fours like a dog and began crawling to my room like a puppy, humiliation and desire tearing me apart. She followed me.
Once in my room, she demanded, “Get on your bed, slut and stay on all fours.”
I obeyed and watched, both disappointed and nervous as she left my room. My nerves suddenly came flooding back as I wondered where she was going. She was gone a couple of minutes before returning, now wearing, a strap-on cock. I briefly wondered where she would have gotten such a toy, but decided it no longer mattered.
She got on the bed, “Does my slut want to be fucked?”
“Yes, Mistress,” I replied, wanting nothing more, partly because it had been so long since I had been fucked and partly because of the utter submission I was feeling at the hands of this powerful cheerleader.
Her plastic cock touched my pussy lips and I quivered just a bit, definitely hornier than I had ever been in my life. “My, my, you really are one horny bitch. Hard to believe you are a dyke virgin. Well, your daughter was too until just over a week ago.”
Every time my daughter was mentioned, my shame doubled, yet no matter how much I knew I should stop this before it went any further, my desire to come or please overtook it.
Without warning, she thrust the plastic cock deep inside my wet pussy and I screamed, “Aaaaaaaaaah, yes.”
While holding the cock deep in my cunt she asked, “Who owns you?”
My only desire was to come and the only way to come was complete submission to this radiant, beautiful, powerful teenager, so I answered, “You are, Mistress.”
One quick thrust out and back in increased the sensation in my cunt. “And you will do anything I ask, my dyke?”
“Yes, Mistress, anything,” I whimpered, just wanting her to fuck me, ignoring the unknown consequences of such a commitment.
Three quick thrusts assaulted my pussy, bringing quick pleasure I barely remembered ever feeling.
“Beg to come, slut,” my new Mistress ordered.
Propriety long out the door, I pleaded like a nasty whore, “Oh Mistress, fuck your slut, she needs to come so baaaaaaad.”
Seemingly content with my words, she began to fuck me, hard and fast, with purposeful thrusts that filled my pussy. Each hard plunge into me had me wetter and closer to my much needed orgasm. As my moans got louder, she suddenly pulled out and ordered, “Get on your back, slave!”
I quickly did, assuming she planned to continue fucking me. Instead, I watched as she tied my wrists with her thigh high stockings to my bedposts. I stared at her in utter horror as my helplessness increased, as did my desperate desire to come. Once she had me tied to the bed, she took off the strap-on and left the room, without a word. Frustration filled me both at my weakness and my need to come. I waited over forty-five minutes at least before she came back in drinking a glass of water and texting on her cell phone. Before I could react, she took a picture of me in the most vulnerable and humiliating position I had ever been in.
She shrugged, “Just in case my slut ever decides to deny her place on her knees as my slave.”
She put the water down and left again. I wondered if my humiliation would ever end and suddenly realized that Jenny could be home soon. I called out, “Mistress, please untie me, Jenny could be home any minute.”
Luckily, I thought, Karen came back in, but in her hand now was a vibrator. She walked over and none too gently shoved it in my cunt. I whimpered, my desire to come overriding my worry instantly. She straddled my face and lowered her cunt onto my lips. I began licking, as I assumed she expected, when I heard the door open.
Calmly, Karen explained, “Be a good slut, whore, and I will allow you to come. But there is no reason to hide your new role from your daughter. She has a similar role. Like daughter, like Mother, I suppose.”
Defeated, and restrained, I accepted my role, the toy buzzing in me, as I heard Karen call out, “Get your ass upstairs, Jenny!” Karen rubbed her pussy on my face, using my face and lips to get herself off. I licked as best I could in my suffocated state for another couple of minutes until I heard Karen scream, way over the top, “That’s it Mommy, I’m coming, lick your Mistress’s cunt, yesssss!” She collapsed forward, her cum dripping onto my face.
I lay still, worried my daughter was in my room, yet distracted by the toy inside me. My worry was confirmed when Karen purred, “I bet you are dying to know how this happened?”
My daughter was obviously stunned, as I did not hear one word escape her lips. The silence was broken by my new Mistress, our Mistress, who demanded, “Mommy slut, tell your daughter how you ended up being my personal plaything.”
*****
“Which leads me to now. I am so, so, so sorry, Jenny,” I apologized with both my words and my eyes.
Jenny stared at me, clearly stunned by what she had heard and witnessed.
Karen pushed me back onto my back and began pumping the toy in my pussy. My long pent-up stress and much needed orgasm took control and I again became not Jenny’s Mom, but rather Karen’s slave. “Oh yes, Mistress, please keep fucking me.”
“Are you ready to come, slut?” Karen questioned, testing me in front of my daughter.
“Yes, Mistress, I need to come so bad,” I begged. She left the vibrating toy lodged in me while she quickly tied my wrists to my bedposts again.
“In front of your daughter?” she questioned.
The answer should have been a clear no, yet my need to come superseded logic and my daughter heard me moan, “Yes, Mistress, in front of my daughter. Make me yours completely in front of my daughter.”
Karen returned between my legs and resumed pumping the toy into me and the second she leaned in and took my clit into her mouth, I shuddered and screamed as my long-awaited orgasm followed, “Oh yes, Mistress, I am comiiiiiiiiing!”
Karen kept my clit in her mouth through my entire orgasm, easily the most intense and fulfilling orgasm I had ever felt. Yet, as soon as the orgasm was done, shame overwhelmed me. I had just submitted to my daughter’s friend in front of my daughter. I was mortified. I tried to move but realized I was still tied up. I asked, “Can you untie me, please?”
Karen asked Jenny, ignoring me completely, “How was your day, Jenny?”
Finally hearing her speak again, she said, “I accomplished my task, but it was quite a challenge.”
“You fucked Miss Morgan?” Karen bluntly announced.
“Yes, Mistress,” my daughter replied, sounding identical to me. I was double shocked. First, at hearing my daughter call Karen Mistress like I had been doing all day and secondly learning my daughter had seduced her teacher, assumedly the one I had read about online.
“I want to hear all the juicy details,” Karen said.
“Of course, Mistress, but can we go to my room? I have to also get ready for a date,” my daughter announced. I was instantly curious about my daughter’s date. A couple of weeks ago, I thought I knew everything about my daughter, but now I felt like I didn’t know her at all.
“With who?” Karen asked, her curiosity also piqued.
“Ashley,” Jenny revealed, her voice implying her insecurity, which I still could recognize.
Karen got off the bed, leaving the toy still in me, grabbed my daughter’s hand and began to leave my room. When she reached the door, she turned around and looked at me and ordered, “Stay,” and left, laughing out loud.
I lay there stunned, humiliated and exhausted. How would I ever be able to show my face to my daughter? How would I regain her respect? My mind replayed the past couple of hours in my mind, and I was mortified by what I had done. What had I agreed to? What had I become? Each simple fall of my submission flashed in my head. My shame slowly simmered as the buzzing in my cunt began to take control. I sighed, knowing I was no longer in control. I closed my eyes, awaiting the unknown….
The end….
