SLUT 4 U

by Sinistra

Part VII

Ding!

Scarlett instinctively reached for her phone, but stopped upon realising that she had no pockets. She was wearing a skirt. Of course. Skirts don’t have pockets. This made sense in her mind, but something still felt wrong. It was the same feeling she’d had that morning, when choosing an outfit for the day. She looked in her drawer, but all she had seen was a bland selection of trousers. Jeans, chinos, callotts – surely these couldn’t be her clothes? Where were the miniskirts? Short shorts? She had made do with a cute pink skirt, but something still didn’t feel…right. However, after realising this would provide the perfect excuse for a weekend shopping spree, whatever anxieties that had threatened to disrupt her mental sanctity crept back into her subconscious. She found it was easier to just not think about it.

She fished her phone from her bag and checked the notification. Darius? Oh yeah, Darius. She tapped out her response. Yeah I do. Why don’t u just ask Isabelle tho?

Darius: ? Are you going to tell me or what?

Scarlett: OK. Here’s the number. [07750 962431]

Darius: ty

Scarlett tugged at her blouse. Maybe it’s a surprise or something. Hope it’s ok between those two. A hot flush coloured her pale skin. Why is it so hot in here? It felt more like a boiler room than a canteen. For some reason the school felt it necessary to crank the heating up to such a point that it seemed that they were expecting a blizzard and not a typically mild, southern town winter. Removing her jumper didn’t help, and the action reminded her of last night – the smells, the tastes, they all flooded back to her, ‘mmmh’.

Scarlett opened her eyes, her cheeks turning crimson, hoping no one had heard her. She began to feel a warm, nice feeling emanating from between her thighs and look down to see that her hand had started to rub the thin fabric of her panties. She almost let out another moan, but clasped her other hand around her treacherous mouth. Oh God, I can’t help it, I need to…

‘Excuse me’ she said apologetically, stepping up from the table.

‘Where are you going?’ asked Caitlin. ‘I’ll come with you, if y-’

Scarlett was half tempted to accept her offer. ‘Oh no, I’m just…I need the toilet.’ She replied shakily. She burst open the cubicle door, almost forgetting to slam it shut as she instantly shoved her panties to the side, plunging her fingers deep in her sopping cunt. Several eye-rolling orgasms and a melody of wordless cries later, she slumped on the toilet seat, shuddering and breathing hard. It was sore, but the itch between her legs was as sensitive as ever, and it yearned, craved for more. She looked at her watch. Only a few minutes left until the end of lunch. They’re going to wonder where I am… she thought as her hand traced lazily down and began to slide back into her moist depths. I’ll have to be quick…

* * *

Darius rolled his eyes. He began to tap out how no, I wouldn’t ask Isabelle for her own mothers phone number because anyone with half a brain cell would understandably panic if an all-powerful mind controller wanted to- he sighed, and deleted the draft. It was stupid to incriminate himself just to prove a point. This had proved to be a delicate operation, and rash behaviour would not do. Pride goeth before destruction he recalled. Even at this early stage, not everything had gone to plan. Originally he’d assumed 20 characters had been enough, but Isabelle was proving more resilient than Darius anticipated. He supposed ‘slut’ was too much of an ambiguous term, and something more like ‘obey’ would have worked more efficiently – but where was the fun in that? Then, in a foolishly ambitious move, he had given her the throwaway phone, but now it was clear she wasn’t ready to accept her fate just yet. It seemed to him that it was necessary to take matters into his own hands, and so that morning he had purchased and downloaded another strain of the malware, compatible with up to 10 characters. This time, £150.

When Isabelle had approached him that morning in the school common room to arrange a date, she had suggested Thursday or Friday.

‘Why not the weekend? Surely it would be more convenient?’

‘Oh.’ She said, visibly disheartened. ‘It’s just that my Mum has those days off, and I just thought it would be nice to…well, I’m just looking forward to it. Why, are you busy?’ The last sentence sounded like a plead.

Darius, despite his typical icy countenance, softened. ‘Isabelle, I’m – okay, you’re right. I think Friday would be good.’

Isabelle’s face blossomed into a brilliant smile, betraying herself if only for a second. ‘Okay, yeah. Sounds good. Oh – and before I forget. You won’t believe what Josh said to Miss Pascal. So…’

Darius continued to nod and grin; play it cool, but he’d seen her crack of composure. He knew that, despite any negative sentiment she seemed to harbour against him, she was still wrapped tightly around his finger.

Isabelle watched as his smile slowly faded, and his eyes began to wander, apparently more focused on other things of hers than her eyes. Poor thing. Can’t say what he wants. Oh well, It’s the least I can do.

‘Hey. I’ve got something to show you. Follow me.’ She intertwined her fingers with his, and, beckoning him with her other hand, began to walk him out of the common room and down the hallway. More than a few eyebrows were raised as Darius trailed along, half in a daze in the wake of her strut. The hallway branched off right into a long corridor, multiple sets of stairs leading up into first floor classrooms along the length of the corridor. She shot him a smirk over her shoulder, and led him into a deep alcove beneath the stairs.

Breathing heavily already and with trembling fingers she pulled his body against hers and locked him in a passionate kiss. Once she’d realised he was too preoccupied by her body to listen to what she thought was a funny anecdote, she felt she ought to have walked off in repulsion or at least admonish him – but instead, she was overwhelmed with a sense of sympathy. It wasn’t his fault she was so sexy. He could take her whenever he wanted; better to be in control – until she could finally get rid of whatever he did to her, at least. In the meantime she was free to enjoy all the pleasures that came with airheaded sluttiness. ‘I nee- want you to fuck me, now.’ She whined, fumbling with his belt.

Darius’ hardness yearned in his trousers as he slid his hands beneath her skirt and squeezed the warm flesh of her buttocks. Darius still couldn’t quite believe the situation he found himself in, but he wasn’t complaining. If anything, this was just more proof that Isabelle would be ready for the next phase of his plan. ‘Isabelle I can’t believe we’re…doing this.’

She put a finger to his lips. ‘Shhh…just…take me…’ She clasped her fingers behind her hair, biting her lip as Darius teased her sex, already slick with anticipation. With a soft groan she slid down onto his shaft. He pressed her against the wall, caressing the smooth skin of her back, wait, thighs, as he thrust into her.

Isabelle whispered sweet nothings as he pounded her into the wall, clasping a hand over her mouth whenever oblivious students walked past.

At last, when he felt his balls about to boil over, he pulled himself out of her pussy and pulled her down to her knees. Her tongue skillfully brought him to the brink of orgasm, and suddenly he groaned as warm jets of cum spurted down the back of her throat, and he massaged the back of her head in his hands. She licked and teased out the last few jolts of pleasure from his softening member, fixing him with a sly smile. Isabelle then stood up on her heels and wiped her lips with the back of her hand, and Darius couldn’t stop himself from squeezing her firm ass. She giggled.

‘That was…so much fun.’ She whispered in his ear.

‘You know it.’ he replied, a foolish grin plastered on his face.

* * *

Darius inspected himself in the mirror and checked his watch. It was Friday evening, 5 o’clock exactly, with one hour to go. He was wearing a button-up blue shirt under a navy jumper with brick-red trousers; an outfit that he’d spent more time than he’d like to admit choosing. As he rolled up his cuffs and made his way downstairs, he was intercepted at the bottom by his mother.

She gasped as she ran her eyes over his clothes, clasping her hand over her mouth and standing in shock. Her look of utter adoration was imbued with a sense of surprise and awe, as if she had never thought she would ever see this day – and when she reached out to grasp his shoulders, it was with such a tenderness it was as if she was afraid he would instantly turn to dust. ‘Darius…I don’t know what to say.’

‘Mum…it’s okay.’ He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, freeing himself from her grip.

She pulled back her hands and hastily smoothened her skirt. ‘Yes, yes. Forgive me. Now give your silly mother a hug.’

Darius wondered how long this would go on as he returned the affection.

She stood on tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the cheek. ‘Okay. What time do you have to be there?’

‘Five thirty.’

‘You better get going then.’ She began to put his coat on for him but Darius shrugged her off. ‘And when are you getting back?’

‘I’m not sure,’ he said, opening the door. ‘Bye!’

‘Oh, wel- Bye!’ She waved as he shut the door.

Darius plugged in his earphones, matching his pace to the beat, imagining he looked awfully cool in his jet black trench coat. It was already pitch black, the roads illuminated only by the orange glare of looming streetlamps. It wasn’t long before he arrived. He rung the doorbell of a large suburban house, a range rover parked in the driveway and friendly light glowing from the windows. He shifted weight from one foot to another while he waited, unable to totally shake off his anxiety.

Finally the door was opened by a woman – Darius guessed around forty, but she easily could have passed for thirty – who looked like a blonde, curvier, maturer version of Isabelle. She was dressed in an orange cocktail dress and pumps with golden hoop earrings, her hair falling in wavy tresses down to her shoulders. She was just as beautiful as her daughter, with youthful, smooth skin and alluringly dark eyes – dyed hair? Darius guessed.

‘Hello! Come in, come in. Are you the Darius we’ve heard so much about?’

‘That’s me.’ He hung his coat up on the rack behind the door.

‘I’m Eleanor, and my husband Michael is in here…’ She walked him through the open hallway into the kitchen where a middle aged man was leant over the sink, washing up.

He turned around when he heard them enter. He wore a green jumper and small rectangular glasses, and with greying brown hair and a closely shaven beard he maintained a rugged yet dignified appearance. He took off his washing up gloves, laid them on the side, and stuck out his right hand, smiling. ‘Ah! Darius. It’s good to meet you.’

Darius gripped his hand firmly. ‘And you too, Michael.’

‘I think Isabelle’s still getting read- oh, that’ll be her.’

Darius heard someone rushing down the stairs, and then Isabelle was leaning over the bannister, her brunette hair falling in cute ringlets. ‘Oh – hi Darius. I’m not ready – I didn’t think you’d be coming until later.’

‘That’s fine, don’t rush. I’ll just be here until you’re ready to come down.’

‘Okay, I won’t be long.’ She darted out of view and ran back up the stairs.

Darius looked at his phone.

> obey darius

He hit send. ‘Whatever you’re cooking, it smells delicious.’

‘Thank you. We’re having roast potatoes and chicken, which will hopefully-’

A short jingle rang from the phone which buzzed on the counter top.

Eleanor strolled over and picked up her phone. ‘Hopefully done by…half an…’ Her shoulders sagged, her eyes locked on the screen. Her eyes glazed over.

‘Darling?’ Michael put his arm around his wife. ‘What’s-’ Suddenly his eyes became as glassy as his spectacles, his mouth hanging open.

‘Is everything okay?’ Darius couldn’t help but grin. This was perfect.

Isabelle’s parents looked up from the phone in almost comical synchronisation.

‘Yeah. What was I saying?’ Eleanor narrowed her eyes and tilted her head to one side.

‘Something about…uh…’ Michael started confidently, but he furrowed his brow upon realising that he had no idea.

‘Don’t worry about it.’ Darius told them, and instantly their expressions softened. ‘We have to talk about Isabelle. You must have noticed the change in the way she’s dressing.’

Michael’s eyes narrowed and Eleanor raised her eyebrows. ‘Excuse me young man, but who-’

‘Shut up.’

Michael sputtered as if a hand had clasped around his throat.

‘Michael?’ Eleanor gasped. She looked back at Darius, her face coloured with shock.

‘Relax. Both of you. I’m not going to lie or try to hurt you. Speak honestly to me.’

Eleanor looked at her husband, then back to Darius, her eyes dull with confusion. ‘Of course. I’m sorry for my husband – he can get a bit hot-headed. We just can’t believe you might imply something so…horrid about our daughter.’ she rubbed his shoulder. He hung his head, shamefully avoiding Darius’ gaze.

‘Nothing I say is horrid. In fact you can’t help but agree with anything I say. If I told you two add two was five, you would believe me, wouldn’t you?’

Eleanor looked at him with awe. ‘I would. I would believe you.’

Michael nodded slowly, as if he found himself agreeing due to consideration – and not mindless obedience.

Darius grinned triumphantly. ‘That’s because everything I say is true. Anyway – you must have noticed she’s been dressing…sluttier recently. Showing off her hot, sexy body, her legs, her cleavage. I don’t think it’s horrid to bring it up – in fact it sounds more like you’re just guilty about the desire you secretly harbour for Isabelle.’

Michael looked at his wife with revulsion.

A look of shock, anger, hatred, confusion, and embarrassment flashed across Eleanor’s face in a matter of seconds. ‘I-I-I…I don’t…why would you say that?

‘Because everything I say is true.’ Darius told her, grinning boyishly.

Eleanor looked at him, grinning nervously, ignoring her husband’s shocked expression. ‘Of course. Well, she is…sexy isn’t she?’

Darius looked at her, raising an eyebrow; a signal for her to continue.

Eleanor gulped. ‘I know it’s wrong to…to…to lust after your own daughter – oh it sounds awful when I say it – but Isabelle, her body, her lips, her hair…’ Eleanor tensed up, her face blanching. ‘Do I have to – Oh God – I’m sorry, this is…so wrong. Don’t make me-’

‘There’s nothing wrong about feeling attracted to your daughter.’

Michael smiled contentedly and relaxed in his chair. Well that’s a relief.

Darius continued. ‘You’ve desired her ever since she hit puberty, and you’ve been waiting to explore those desires ever since. Just thinking about her gets you wet. There’s nothing wrong with her wearing such sexy outfits – in fact you encourage it.’

Eleanor nodded, licking her lips. It’s true she realised. Images of Isabelle’s perky breasts, her lithe figure, her stunning legs, flooded her mind. She squeezed her legs together. How can he know so much about me? This Darius is something else…

‘I remember when I was her age – I would dress the same way. Nowadays I don’t have the body of an eighteen year old, but I keep in shape, and I still get looks.’

‘You look fabulous, Ellie.’ He reassured her.

She laughed, tilting her head back and blushing. Her voluptuous chest heaved. Michael sat and watched.

‘And Michael. Don’t worry about your wife’s – or even your own attraction to your daughter. It’s perfectly normal. After all, who wouldn’t want to fuck a hot piece of ass like Isabelle?’ Darius adopted a stern tone. ‘But she’s mine – so hands off!’

Michael raised his hands comically in a surrendering motion. Something inside him felt immensely relieved, but he couldn’t quite figure out why.

‘Just so you know Michael, I plan on fucking your wife and daughter after dinner. You haven’t got a problem with that,’ he looked at Eleanor. ‘And neither have you. In fact you’re looking forward to it. Oh, and Michael; you can speak.’

Michael smiled warmly. ‘Darius, it’s my pleasure. If you don’t mind however, I’ll be in the living room whilst you-’ he gulped gesturing to both of them, ‘whilst you lot get on with it.’

Darius smiled back. ‘Of course. Thank you both for being so understanding.’

‘Thank you, Darius.’ Eleanor replied, and Michael nodded. Eleanor’s eyes darted between Darius and the staircase, unable to take her mind off Isabelle. What will she be wearing?

Suddenly the timer for the oven went, breaking Eleanor out of her reverie. She snapped up, and began to take the chicken out of the oven. ‘Isabelle! Dinner’s ready!’

Darius heard footsteps from upstairs, and as Michael laid the table Isabelle walked into the kitchen.

She was wearing a stunning, figure hugging black dress and black high heels. Exposing a generous V down her chest and the side of her thighs, it was all Eleanor and Darius could do to not start drooling.

A strangled cry came from Michael, who hastily walked into the other room to lay the table.

Her lips were coloured a vibrant crimson, her dark arched eyebrows and voluminous chestnut tresses framing a gorgeous face. She wore two glistening gold earrings which dangled alluringly from her ears.

‘Isabelle…you look…gorgeous.’ Eleanor strode over to her, and began to caress the fabric, rolling her gaze along her daughters curves.

Isabelle tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. ‘Thanks.’

‘Dinner’s getting cold!’ Michael called out from the other room. Eleanor broke from her trance, and one by one they filtered through into the dining room and sat around a large wooden table, glasses already poured with wine. A cornucopia of steaming vegetables, roasted potatoes and chicken created a mouth-watering aroma, and soon they were tucking in. In between hungry mouthfuls, they chatted about work, childhood, hobbies. Darius learned that Eleanor was a teacher and had met Michael when they were both twenty. Two years later and they were married and expecting a child. Michael worked as a solicitor involved in mainly domestic affairs, and his stories of nightmarish, ridiculous, and unforgivably stupid clients would reliably send the table into a chorus of raucous laughter.

The first time Isabelle had caught her mother staring at her chest, Eleanor had instantly looked away, abashed. Isabelle was by no means sensitive to having her body admired, of course – but there was something in her mother’s gaze that was strange, even predatory. A shiver ran down her spine, and she adjusted her bust.

When Isabelle realised her mother was looking at her chest again, she stared back at her and coughed politely. Eleanor didn’t stop. ‘Mum!’

Eleanor looked up at her daughter earnestly. ‘Hmm?’

Isabelle sighed, exasperated. My fault for wearing such a dress. Didn’t know mum was such a weirdo though.

It was long after the main course that conversation finally simmered down and Eleanor left to fetch dessert. She brought back a dish of apple crumble, and began to whip some cream. Each whisk sent a jiggle through her chest, much to the delight of Darius. Soon they were all tucking in, the intensity of the main course complemented by the refreshing sweetness of dessert. It was delicious, and soon each of them were scraping the last remnants out of their bowls.

‘Eleanor – thank you so much. That was one of the most delicious meals I’ve ever had.’

Isabelle’s mother chuckled to herself. ‘Actually, I can’t cook for shit. Oh!’ She looked guiltily at the wine bottle. ‘Pardon my French. This was all Michael.’

‘Darius smiled apologetically. ‘My sincerest apologies, Michael.’

‘You are forgiven.’ He replied in mock seriousness.

‘This has been wonderful,’ he continued, looking at Isabelle, ‘it really has. But I think it’s time to enjoy some proper dessert.’

Michael hastily excused himself, his chair scraping noisily against the floorboards. ‘I’ll take that as my call to leave. You lot have fun.’ he said shakily, nodding towards each of them but not looking any in the eye. His smile looked more like a grimace as he stacked their dishes and hurried out of the room.

Isabelle’s eyes flicked from her mother to her father. Eleanor sat motionless, smiling sweetly at her, and Michael ignored her gaze. She wanted to ask why weren’t they reacting to such a blatantly sexual declaration, but she had a terrifying suspicion that she already knew.

‘Is everything alright, sweetie?’ Eleanor leaned towards her, placing her hand on her daughter’s knee, a sympathetic yet vacant look in her eye.

Isabelle felt her skin crawl. She jerked away from her mother’s touch, before shooting Darius a look. ‘You’ve done something to her.’ she said quietly.

Darius tried to keep a straight face. He walked over to Eleanor and put an arm round her. She squirmed girlishly in his grip.

‘Oh no.’ Isabelle whispered.

Eleanor beamed at her, leaning into Darius. ‘It’s ok, honey. Darius explained it all. It makes sense when you think about it…or don’t think about it.’ She giggled at her own joke.

Isabelle felt like she was going to be sick. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. ‘What are you…what are you going to do?’

Darius’ face broke out in a grin. His eyes gleamed wolfishly as he cupped Eleanor’s cheek. A small thrill ran through him when she batted her dark, thick eyelashes and gazed at him with her wonderful glassy brown eyes. ‘What do you want to do, Ellie? Be honest.’

‘Pleasure myself.’ she blurted out, her eyes wide with disbelief. Disbelief that – even in front of her own daughter – it didn’t make her self-conscious. It felt almost…natural, but that didn’t stop her from blushing. ‘I’m getting so wet, I need to get, um, fucked or something before I go nuts.’

‘Darius,’ Isabelle’s eyes welled up with tears. ‘How could you…’ she choked on her words, ‘…my own…mother?’

Eleanor gasped and ran over to her daughter, embracing her softly. ‘Hey, honey, sweetie. It’s ok. It’s ok.’ She gently wiped away Isabelle’s tears with one hand, caressing her daughter’s thigh with the other. ‘It’s alright. Mummy can cheer you up.’ Her hand began to snake under the gash of Isabelle’s dress which generously revealed the skin of her leg up to her hip.

Isabelle shivered, but then roughly shoved her mother away. ‘No!’ she shrieked. Through her tears she saw her mother’s face break out in hurt. ‘No. Mum, you don’t want this.’

Eleanor’s eyes lit up. ‘Oh, but honey I do. Darius made it so clear. I…I can’t stop myself.’ She licked her lips, her gaze nestling in the generous cleavage revealed by Isabelle’s plunging neckline.

Isabelle felt her nipples harden, much to her shame. Ever since the first day of Darius’ control, whenever she would catch someone admiring her body – especially her erogenous areas – she would feel a wave of arousal shudder through her. She couldn’t help it. Even if it was from her own mother. She looked at Darius, who was nonchalantly leaning against the table with his arms crossed.

‘It’s just part of the trial.’ he answered. ‘This is about proving you’re not a slut. If you had total confidence in yourself – total confidence that, after savouring so many delights, you would renounce being a slut – then you would have no problem with indulging.’

Isabelle glared at him, faintly aware that her mother, now round his arm again, was practically drooling now. ‘Darius, you know that makes no sense. This is too much, even for you.’

He smirked devilishly, pulling a gasping Eleanor into him. ‘Maybe – but I can just walk away. No more hope, no more chances. Your fate would be sealed within the week. You may not feel anything right away, but as your mind finalises rewiring, you wouldn’t be able to resist anything I say. And you would love it. In the end, it’s your choice.’

Isabelle went pale. She was beaten, and she knew it. There had never been a chance. ‘You’ll change her back too, right?’ She was terrified for an answer.

Darius blinked. ‘Yes.’ He said, his face a stone mask. ‘Of course.’

‘I’d say don’t fight it, Issy.’ her mother drawled. ‘Obeying Darius…feels so right. Once you get a taste… it’s seductive. Once you let go…no bad feelings. No crying.’

Isabelle held back tears. She knew her mother couldn’t help it. ‘Okay.’ she whispered.

Darius squinted at her. ‘I’m sorry? What did you say?’

Isabelle looked up, her bottom lip trembling. ‘Okay. Get it over with then.’

Darius grinned hungrily, and immediately tilted Eleanor’s head into his, locking her in a kiss. His left arm slid down her tight body and squeezed her right buttock. She groaned and pressed her lush body against his, melting into his embrace. He relished in the feel of her two pillowy breasts pressing against his chest, and began to rub the front of her dress, the orange fabric the only thing between him and her soaked panties.

Eleanor gasped, sheepishly glancing over her shoulder at Isabelle, who was sat totally rigid in her chair, her face pale. Eleanor’s eyes fluttered shut and she moaned as Darius sucked at her neck, arching her throat to expose more soft skin. ‘Darius-’ she managed in-between gasps. ‘We shouldn’t – really. Not in front of, mmmh, Isabelle.’

‘But at this moment, you’re too horny to care, aren’t you?’

Eleanor shivered, hitching up her knee and pressing her leg against him, her dress becoming taut between her legs. ‘Yes…’ She marvelled at how he could possibly know more about her than she did herself. She began to grind against him, every caress from her thigh onto Darius’ yearning member sending shivers of pleasure up his spine.

Darius held her slim waist and pulled her rump towards his groin, and his hands roamed her front, massaging her two firm globes on her chest.

She sighed under his touch, throwing her hair back, her golden hooped earrings glittering in the light. Unable to tear her gaze from her daughter, she kept her eyes ahead as she found Darius’ hand and gently guided it between her legs.

Isabelle’s breathing was shaky as she watched the scene unfold, the room beginning to fill with the intoxicating aroma of lust and arousal. Her throat was becoming dry, and her loins began to ache with a dull warmth, and for once she was grateful she wasn’t allowed to touch herself, worried that, given the choice, she wouldn’t be able to resist. Isabelle tried to concentrate on something other than the wanton display before her, but the hot, submissive, feminine form displayed in front of her seemed to deny the existence of anything else inside the room. It’s not like I can help it. The female body was made to be desired[i] she thought. Suddenly a panic gripped her. [i]Where did that thought come from? That’s my own mother, for God’s sake. Not some sex object, she assured herself, before once again her eyes got lost in the swell of her mother’s breasts, her smooth skin, glossy lips…

Eleanor’s eyelids closed lazily, as she guided Darius’ hand down, down under her tight dress, yes, right there, keep going, until she felt his fingers tracing the outline of her panties. She shuddered, thrusting her pelvis forwards into his teasing strokes, as his other hand gently shimmied her cocktail dress up her thighs, around her wide hips, until she was brazenly displaying her lacy white underwear to Isabelle, whose mouth was lolled open. Ellie knew that something wasn’t right about displaying herself to her daughter like this, but she couldn’t quite figure out why, especially when it felt so natural. After all, if Darius was doing it, it had to be right, had to make sense.

‘Isabelle. Isabelle?’ Darius cooed softly. He watched as her lidded eyes blinked and then stared at him. ‘I know this has been hard for you, and believe me, I don’t want to make it any harder. Remember-’ a small buzzing came from his pocket, distracting him momentarily. ‘Uh, remember how I forbade you to pleasure yourself, under any circumstances?’

Isabelle whimpered softly. She knew what was coming. ‘Please Darius, don’t. I don’t want to. This is…’ she shuddered. ‘This is so wrong.’

Darius smiled pitifully. ‘If it’s so wrong, then why are you playing with your breasts?’

Isabelle’s blood froze. Her hands were at her sides, gripping the chair. She was sure of it. No. No, no no no no this can’t be happening, this can’t be- she looked down dumbly, already knowing what she was going to see. He’s lying. I don’t even – oh no. Her fingers were lazily tracing circles around her nipples, the firm nubs making indents in the black fabric. Her cleavage was clammy with sweat, her two tits almost bursting out of her dress. She let out a frustrated moan, but didn’t stop rubbing the sensitive buds, blushing in embarrassment. It’s true. I can’t control myself. Is Darius right? Am I just a stupid, horny slut? She squirmed in her seat, not knowing whether she was frustrated with herself, Darius, or not being able to touch herself.

‘It seems that rule has done more harm than good, so I’ll offer you a compromise. You can touch yourself, but you’re not allowed to climax. Do you want that?’

Isabelle whimpered, sweat breaking out on her forehead. Her mother was still entranced, her body pressed against Darius, gazing up at him adoringly whilst her hand rubbed the hard outline his cock made against his trousers. She looks so happy, thought Isabelle. Her fingers delicately stroked and massaged her breasts, pinching her tender nipples, creating waves of pleasure that lapped away at her thoughts. If only she could stroke her pussy, relieve her yearning passion, just for a little bit – maybe she could clear her mind, think properly about what she was doing. Before she knew it she was crying ‘Please, please, yes, I want it, I want it so badly.’

‘That’s all I needed to hear, Isabelle. Go ahead.’

Isabelle’s breathing came in ragged gasps as her body responded to Darius command, and her skin tingled as a shudder of delight swept through her in anticipation of blissful release. Isabelle cried out, warm juices leaking out of her needy pussy and trickling down her thigh, her legs quivering. ‘Oh, fuck’ she muttered, unable to think to say anything else. How am I this desperate? A soothing, pleasant sensation suddenly radiated from between her thighs, and she realised that her fingers had found their way under her dress and were now sliding back and forth across her moist slit. Where are my panties? I put… I must have put them on…why would I…I’m sure… Did she really choose not to? Or was it another one of Darius’ commands. She hoped to God it was the latter. Is this it? she mused in her stated of intoxicated arousal. Is this all I am? An oversexed slut, a sex slave to depravity? She couldn’t help but admit that a small part of her enjoyed the naughty thrill, the helplessness of it, the delicious- No. This isn’t me. I’m not like this. I’m not like this. Fuck but I’m horny.

Darius took his juice smeared fingers out of Eleanor’s snatch and held them in front of her lips. She leant forwards and sucked them slowly, all the while unable to break eye contact with her daughter’s lewd display.

Eleanor suddenly looked at him and pulled herself onto the edge of the table. ‘Darius,’ she said huskily, whilst tugging down her panties, almost translucent with moisture. ‘I can’t wait anymore. Fuck me. Now.’ She kicked them before his feet, and spread her legs. Her body was evenly tanned and totally hairless apart from a fine tuft of pubic hair forming a triangle around her glistening snatch. Jogging had kept her body in good shape, and Darius admired her tight, curvy form before kneeling before her.

Darius buried his tongue into her slit with zero hesitation, clutching her buttocks and pulling her pussy into his face, nudging her clit with his nose.

Amidst cries of delight and abandon Eleanor hitched up her dress and threw it to the floor, until she was totally nude apart from her hooped earrings and cute orange pumps. She tossed her luscious blonde hair behind her earrings, which were bouncing and glittering in accordance with her throes of pleasure.

Darius’ hands retreated back and deftly undid his belt, his cock springing forth as he removed his trousers. He felt a vibration in his pocket, but decided to ignore it. Ellie held her breath as Darius stood up and positioned his rod at the entrance to her pussy. He nestled the head in between her soft pink petals and began to thrust slowly, the silky walls of her pussy massaging his stiff rod. He fucked her there on the table, eliciting a series of adorable soft moans and whimpers which eventually grew into clipped, high pitched cries, and then she was screaming Yes! Yes! Yes! as she rode the wave of her climax.

Eleanor dreamily drifted out of her rapture, still able to hear the desperate and lust-fuelled cries of her pleasure still echoing in her mind. She threw back her head and massaged her breasts, and suddenly realised that the sounds weren’t coming from her. She blinked and focused her eyes in front of her, where Isabelle was groaning in frustration, her fingers rapidly pumping in her sopping cunt. Her sweaty skin was flushed and her cheeks were a charming crimson, her eyes lidded and dreamy. She was moaning utterances of lust to herself, blissfully unaware of anything else. ‘Isabelle…’ her mother murmured.

‘Isabelle wants you’ Darius said breathlessly, ‘She wants your tongue’

‘…Not…right…’ She replied. ‘My own…daughter…’

‘But, mmh, it is right.’ he grunted.

And Eleanor realised that it was. It was that simple. She was sure it had been wrong, or something – she couldn’t quite figure out how – but of course. It was right. It just was. She gently pushed Darius away, and slid off the table.

Darius ran a hand through his hair. Every fibre in his body screamed at him to keep fucking Eleanor, but he had to see this play out. This had the potential to be the hottest thing he had ever seen. He leaned back, pale knuckles gripping the table, his throbbing member aching and pulsing in front of him.

Isabelle’s eyes grew wide with panic as her mother knelt before her. She wanted to scream at her mother to stop, stop it, it wasn’t right, she didn’t want this. But Isabelle was gripped with a fear that in fact she did want this – and that unless she got her mother to stop, she wouldn’t be able to resist.

‘Issy…Issy…you don’t look so good…’ Eleanor tenderly rubbed her knee, and smiled when Isabelle’s legs began to spread ever so slightly. Isabelle made no resistance as her mother gently pulled her dress to the side. She was now almost fully exposed, her left hand knuckle-deep in her pussy and the other gripping the chair.

‘Mum…no…we can’t…’ she cried softly, her pussy oozing girl-juice under her mother’s hungry gaze.

‘You look so sore…’ Eleanor murmured, ignoring Isabelle’s protests, totally entranced by Isabelle’s energetic strumming of her slit. Her daughter’s pussy was raw and pink, her hooded clit protruding desperately. It begged to be touched, to be loved. She gently pulled Isabelle’s legs apart. There was a small puddle in the middle of her chair.

Isabelle shook her head weakly. ‘No…please…this isn’t right…’ Tears welled up in her eyes.

Eleanor frowned. How strange of her to say that, when it so clearly was. ‘Oh honey, you’re all sexed up and horny. You can’t think. Let mummy do the thinking.’ She leaned in slowly, feasting her eyes. ‘Let mummy eat your yummy pussy.’

Isabelle shuddered, and felt her mother’s warm breath on her moist slit, involuntarily thrusting her hips forwards. This is so wrong, so dirty…Oh God, so illicit, so taboo, oh fuck, it’s so hot. I need it. She reached out her hands to push her mother away, but her fingers became trapped in her silky smooth hair, and now she was pulling her mother’s head into her drooling pussy, and now she was suckling on her clit…‘Oh God…’ Isabelle groaned as she pulled her mother’s face deeper into her snatch, before crying out in ecstasy. ‘Yes! Mummy!’ The last syllable lengthened into a scream of delight, the dirty obscenities fuelling her arousal. ‘Oh fuck, lick me, please! I’m your horny little girl, yesss…’

She likes it just like her mother, Eleanor thought. She had fooled around with girls when she was younger, but it seemed like all the tricks Michael regularly used on her worked on Isabelle too.

Isabelle had been so close, and now she was pushed over the edge, lost to the rapture. Her thighs quivered as Eleanor eagerly lapped up her juices, each lick sending shockwaves of pleasure from her clit. Isabelle released a string of wordless grunts and moans as she rode the wave of ecstasy, rode her mother’s eager tongue. It was the best pleasure she had ever experience. As she settled back down to earth, tucking a curl of dishevelled hair behind her ear, her blushing face broke out in a smile. ‘I can’t believe you…we did that.’ She knew she had been panicked, or worried…or something, but as her mother smiled at her lovingly with girl-cum stained on her pink glossy lips, she couldn’t remember why. Oh yeah. That’s my mum. That makes it wrong or something. Isabelle was glad she could remember as her melted into her mother’s kiss, her passions inflamed by the taste of her own fluids on her lips.

‘I’ve waited so long to make you come.’ Eleanor murmured in her ear. ‘You like it when mummy makes you come, don’t you?’

Isabelle nodded enthusiastically, before reaching out and fondling one of her mother’s breasts which hung alluringly before her. She heard Darius cough, and she looked past her mother to see him standing there, his cock achingly hard. He’s all horny, someone needs to suck his dick or something, Isabelle thought.

Eleanor slid off her daughter, the illicit sensation of Isabelle’s smooth, feminine flesh sending ripples of pleasure across her skin. She took her daughter’s hand and pulled her off the chair, and then pulled Isabelle’s dress up her body and threw it to the floor in a dishevelled heap. Ellie’s eyes roamed adoringly over her daughter’s body, who proudly thrust her chest forwards.

‘You think I’m pretty, don’t you mummy?’ she asked quietly, guiding Eleanor’s hand to her pert breast. It felt wrong – but it also felt so right. She’d just let her own mother eat her out – if there was a time to have reservations, it wasn’t now. Besides, she knew her mother liked her body, so there couldn’t be harm in simply admitting it, right? Especially when it gave her such a naughty thrill.

Eleanor thumbed her daughter’s nipple delicately, Isabelle squirming and giggling in delight. Darius coughed again, louder this time, and Isabelle rolled her eyes in response. Both women had apparently mastered the art of the strut as they walked towards him, hips swaying delightfully. They knelt down before him, but as Eleanor took his cock in her hand, Isabelle stopped her.

‘I’m not sure why I’m doing this.’ she said, a nervous edge in her voice. ‘You’re my mum…and I know it should feel wrong. It just makes me feel so…good.’

Eleanor nodded. ‘Yeah?’

Isabelle bit her lip. She wanted to be proven wrong, have thing explained to her coolly and rationally. Why didn’t Eleanor understand? ‘Why don’t I know why it’s wrong?’ she whined.

‘Honey, I don’t know what you’re talking about – but maybe you’ll find out after sucking some dick.’

Isabelle wasn’t sure how that would work, but when she felt Darius’ cock brush against her lips, she couldn’t think of anything else but to take his member in her lips and begin to suck greedily on his shaft. Her mother was right – this did put her mind at ease. What was she thinking about?

Darius groaned as Isabelle’s head bobbed back and forth, her skillful tongue swirling around the sensitive head, Eleanor massaging the base. He was so close to erupting already, and was struggling to withhold his climax. Suddenly he felt his balls boil over, and he pulled back, grunting as spurts of warm semen coated Isabelle’s chest as Eleanor pumped away at his engorged member. Two pairs of bright eyes sparkled up at him as he climaxed, painting Isabelle with his cum. He slumped back onto a chair as Eleanor started to massage the dribbling semen onto her daughters nipples.

‘We wouldn’t want any to go to waste, would we?’

Isabelle shook her head, eagerly receiving a jizz-coated finger and sucking it between her lips before leaning in to kiss her mother.

‘Did you work out what you were worried about?’ Eleanor asked, pinching a nipple.

Isabelle squirmed. ‘Uh, no. I don’t think so.’ She was sure it was something important though. Embarrassing? Maybe. Nothing seemed to quite make sense. She guided her mother’s hand back to her nipple. Much better.

Darius cupped Isabelle’s chin and tilted her adorable face towards him. ‘Isabelle, you’ve done so well. I can’t wait to see how you get on in your third and final challenge.’

Third challenge? What for? Being a slut? She hoped she’d done well. She briefly remembered a conversation they’d had, but she remembered having her brains fucked out at the time and was struggling to remember what was agreed. ‘Huh?’

Darius frowned. ‘What we agreed, remember? You successfully complete 3 challenges and I remove your mental conditioning.’

Isabelle looked confused. ‘Mental conditioning?’ Think Isabelle, think! You’re looking stupid in front of your mother and your boyfriend. ‘Oh yeah.’ she replied dumbly. She didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.

Darius sighed. ‘Isabelle, don’t you remember? I made you a slut and now you have to prove that you’re not.’

‘But then why am I doing all these things? Like letting my mother eat me out, and fucking you all the time? Surely that makes me a slut.’

Darius stared at her. ‘Are you saying you’ve lost? That you’d like to be a slut forever?’

Something in Isabelle’s mind screamed at her. ‘No, no.’ she replied hastily. ‘I don’t want to be a slut. I’ll do your third challenge.’ She couldn’t quite work out what she was saying, or whether it made sense. She tried to gage his reaction. She wasn’t sure whether she agreed with what she had just said, but it felt right. Am I saying the right things? Oh please don’t be angry.

Darius raised an eyebrow. ‘Sure? You can always change your mind.’ He walked to his trousers and pulled them up his legs.

Eleanor’s mother gave her an enthusiastic thumbs up.

Isabelle shivered, something was nagging her. ‘No. I’m…sure.’

‘Shame. Oh well, I’m sure you’re up to it. Do you know Miss Green?’

Isabelle nodded. Miss Green was a new teacher at the school, a woman in her 20 somethings who had immediately landed a job as an assistant teacher straight out of university. Now she worked full-time at their school, and had quickly become one of the most popular teachers there, especially among male pupils – for a couple of large, round, alluring reasons. ‘I know her. I have her for biology.’

‘Good. Because I’d like to get to know her a lot better. I’m meant to have a…’ he felt a buzzing his pocket. Who the hell is texting me? Don’t they get that I’m busy? ‘I have a detention with her on Tuesday, but this doesn’t really fit my plans. I feel as though it may be necessary to renegotiate. It would make me very happy if you would make her open to anything I might suggest. Does that sound doable?’

‘And then I won’t have the mentally – no wait, mental concentrat…uh, thing that makes me a slut?’

‘Once all is said and done, yes.’ He opened up his phone, half expecting to see a series of increasingly more frustrated messages from his mum – that he’d forgotten to do something, or was late, the usual – but instead saw that he had over 20 snapchat notifications. They were all from Scarlett.

‘Okay. I’ll-’ Isabelle was interrupted by the doorbell. ‘Daisy!’

‘She’ll want to see us…’ muttered Eleanor.

Darius grinned. ‘Then you two better get yourselves cleaned up before she arrives. Remember, Eleanor, that other people won’t be very accommodating of your relationship with your daughter. It’s best to keep it secret.’ He couldn’t be sure how hard she had been listening given the fact that now that she was slurping up the rest of the stains of their lovemaking off Isabelle’s chest. They descended into a heap on the floor, hair flying, giggling wildly as Darius left the room and made his way out the back door.

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