Voicemail
Introduction:
A mother discovers her daughter is kinkier than she thought
Voicemail
by Virtual Scott
I was in my daughter Mimi’s room balancing the phone handset on one shoulder and trying to paw through the stack of college admissions paperwork. I’d gotten a busy signal again. I cursed the guidance counselors under my breath as I almost dropped the entire file on the floor. My finger, which had been headed for the “redial” button on Mimi’s fancy phone, jerked and hit the last, unlabeled, speed dial setting instead.
I realized my mistake when instead of hearing Mr. Walkerson answer, a sultry voice purred, “Slut! I command you-” I started flailing for the switchhook but before I could reach it the voice was interrupted by a beep and several more tones — the speed dial sequence was still running! A new voice, of the type beloved by phone companies, mechanically announced, “You have — one — new message. Touch ‘7’ to hear the next unplayed message.”
The temptation to just hang up was great, but I wanted to find out what Mimi was up to. She’d always seemed so normal and well-behaved. I had to know more. After sitting down, I punched the button and listened as my illusions were shattered.
“It’s Tammy. Oh God, Mistress, I want to cum so bad,” cooed this young-sounding girl — I could hear the capitalization of ‘Mistress’ in her tone — “just thinking about you! You shouldn’t have whipped me so hard, I’m scared my mom will notice and I can hardly sit down, but it feels so good!” She sounded breathless, and I was getting that way quickly myself, although not from arousal! “I haven’t brushed since so I can keep the taste of you in my mouth, but oh I want to be with you again so much! Please, I’ll be your slave whenever you want. Call me soon! Bye!”
Mindlessly I followed the machine’s instructions to discard the message and exit the voicemail system, then hung up. The previously-important paperwork sat unnoticed on my lap while I struggled to comprehend the magnitude of my problem. What had happened to my little girl, the high school honors student and Sunday school star? It sounded like she had turned into some whip-wielding lesbian slut and I hadn’t even noticed!
“Hi, Mrs. Gianelli, I was looking for Mimi. Is anything wrong?” I jumped and the entire file cascaded to the floor. Muttering a curse, I dropped to me knees and began collecting the papers. Juliet Miner, Mimi’s best friend from down the street, came over to help me. I thought about what to say as we cleaned up the mess; Mimi and Juliet were nearly inseparable and certainly she was nearly a second daughter to me.
I knew Juliet was really bright, probably even smarter than Mimi, and had a good level head on her shoulders. (My husband Barry had said more than once, in his usual sexist fashion, that the rest of her was pretty good too.) I’d already decided I couldn’t tell Barry about this — he’d probably get excited about it, the pig — but I had to talk it over with somebody. And Juliet was planning to major in psychology, wasn’t she?
She took it well, better than I had, actually. Juliet remained calm, worked to get me to talk it out, and managed to clamp down on the shock I was sure she must have felt. Finally, though, I burst out, “What am I going to do?” Her answer was interrupted by the slamming front door and Mimi’s call, “Hi mom, I’m home! Is Juliet here yet?” Juliet sssh’ed me and promised we’d talk more tomorrow, but to act normal for now.
It was nearly the hardest thing I’d done to pretend nothing had happened and let Mimi hug me and give me a peck on the cheek before she departed with Juliet. Barry, as usual, was oblivious to my mood that evening and wasn’t interested in doing anything when we went to bed. It was just as well. I didn’t think I could have done anything with visions of Mimi letting some girl lick her running through my mind.
My impatience was rewarded the next day when Juliet showed up unusually early for our talk. “Don’t worry,” she reassured me when she saw my expression, “I ditched calc but I’m acing the course. And Mimi is important to me, too. This way we have time to chat without being interrupted.” She dumped her bookbag on the floor and plopped on the couch across from me. “What do you think we should do?”
I was relieved to note her unconscious use of “we” — it meant a lot to me that I wouldn’t be on my own in this. “I think I should just confront her and ask her to explain,” I started. It was obvious Juliet didn’t completely agree.
“But how?” she asked. “You can’t just accuse her. What if she denies it? And what will you do — punish her?” I was sure Juliet could see from my expression that if that was what it would take to straighten out my wayward daughter, I’d do it. “No,” she mused, “we need to be more clever. Hmmmm… You said the message sounded like Mimi was whipping this other girl?” I nodded.
“Well, what if we turned the tables on her? I mean, maybe if she was on the receiving end of that kind of treatment, she’d realize how cruel it was and want to stop on her own. Then she’d be working with us instead of against us!”
The idea had possibilities. It had sounded like the girl, Tammy, had liked being beaten; but I remembered Mimi crying when we’d spanked her long ago when she was just a little girl. She hadn’t liked it then, no doubt about it. Besides, if she was doing that kind of thing to other people, she deserved it. But — “Who would do it? Me?”
“Sure! You are her mother.” Juliet looked more confident than I felt. “I suppose spanking her again wouldn’t be a problem.” She shook her head. “Oh no, Mrs. G., you’d have to whip her. Otherwise you wouldn’t be making the point properly.”
Maybe we’d need another plan. “I’m not sure I could do that.” Juliet appeared unconvinced, so I added, “besides, where would we get a whip?”
She smiled gently at me before responding. “Mimi’s lucky to have a mother like you, Mrs. G. Look, you don’t have to do it hard enough to really hurt, just so she gets the idea. And I think you probably could get by with just a belt.” Her expression brightened as if she’d suddenly had a brainstorm. “That’s it! I bet your husband has a belt that would be perfect! And you could try it on me first, just to make sure you wouldn’t do any harm!”
I couldn’t let her do it. “Thank you, Juliet, really, but I couldn’t put you through that…” She reached out and squeezed my hand briefly. “Please, Mrs. Gianelli? I’d do anything to help Mimi, you know that. Besides, I know you wouldn’t hurt me. C’mon, we have to try!” With that, she shifted her grip and pulled me to my feet, then towed me towards the master bedroom.
Reluctantly I poked through Barry’s side of the closet until I found an old leather belt from his “biker-wannabe” days. It now was too small for his expanding waistline so I knew he wouldn’t miss it. I turned to find Juliet bent over the foot of the bed, watching me. I walked closer to her, but couldn’t bring myself to lift the belt.
“It’s okay,” she whispered, just the barest tremor audible in her voice, “I trust you. Go ahead.” I swung clumsily at her, but my half-hearted attempt resulted in the belt barely brushing her thigh. Embarrassed, I tried again, with more force, and connected solidly enough to generate a faint slap.
Juliet jumped up, causing me to yelp and drop the belt — I’d hurt her! “No, I’m fine,” she reassured me, “but I can’t feel a thing through these clothes. I’m just taking them off so I can get a better idea of what to expect.” She started stripping naked right there! I tried looking everywhere in the room except at the trim girl who very nearly was my daughter, but I could feel the heat of my blush. Closing the curtains gave me something to do, but all too soon she was in position and I was holding the belt again.
We worked our way up through perhaps half a dozen strokes, each followed by Juliet’s observation that I should be hitting harder. When she flinched after the last stroke, I couldn’t bring myself to hit her slightly reddened buns again. “Really,” she insisted, “it hardly hurts at all. I’m fine, Mrs. G.” Disclaimers aside, I was still concerned enough I’d tuned out her nudity. “No, Juliet, I won’t do any more. Look at your… you, it must hurt awfully. We’ll have to stop.”
“I wish I could convince you,” she pleaded. “Look, I’ll hit you just the same way, and you can feel it for yourself. Then you’ll know it’s okay.” I definitely wasn’t ready for this! “Please? It’s for Mimi.”
Somehow I found myself removing my clothing while Juliet watched! I would never have been able to do it if she’d shown any reaction, but her earnest desire to help and incredible focus worked to calm my own fears. I even realized I was comparing our bodies and not coming out as badly as I might have thought. Then I was bent over the bed, listening for the belt.
Thwack! I twitched, but the fear was much worse than the sensation, and I motioned for Juliet to continue. Thwack! THWACK! THWACK! The last stroke really burned! It sounded louder than when I’d given them to Juliet, but that probably was due to our change in positions. Anyway, she hadn’t complained about what she’d gotten. If both of us could survive the experience, so could Mimi.
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Gianelli! I didn’t mean to hit you so hard that last time, I got off balance. Are you okay?” The cool palm of Juliet’s hand softly stroked my burning rear, and drifted down towards-
I quickly turned, to reassure her, and found myself facing Juliet’s bush at very close range. It was neatly trimmed, probably for her swimsuit, and didn’t do much to obscure her lips. They looked a little flushed, too… “She made that girl lick her, didn’t she?” Juliet demanded in an intense voice. I wanted to back away, but I was pinned against the bed. “Do you think we should make her lick me? Would she like it?” She moved closer to me, now her body was filling my field of view!
Her hand was brushing my hair, and I caught a hint of a fragrance I knew must be hers. There was none of the “fishiness” Barry always complained about; did it taste as good? “You’d like to lick me, wouldn’t you?” I was so embarrassed! How had she guessed? “Try it.” Juliet pulled me into her, and I couldn’t resist darting my tongue out for a tiny taste. “Harder!” she hissed, and the belt landed on my rear again!
By mid-afternoon, my tongue was sore. So was my rear, from the belt, then the whip, and finally the dildo that was stretching my rear hole. I’d realized much earlier it hadn’t been Mimi’s voicemail I’d stumbled onto. But I knew she was going to be punished anyway; Mistress Juliet had told me I could watch.
