Chapter 2: Camera Slut

Hi readers. Katie Muggleton again. Let me continue my story so you can understand how and why I became a slut mommie.

Earlier, towards the end of the first part of my story, I’d been unable to resist my son’s advances and succumbed to my baser desires by surrendering my willing pussy for him to cum in. My son made me feel sexy and desirable for the first time in many months, and I wanted to show him my appreciation. So after he came inside me, I knelt submissively and sucked on his gorgeous cock until he orgasmed into my mouth.

Giving oral sex is something I enjoy immensely, but until that night when Johnny climaxed and called me ‘his little Mommie slut, I’d never before orgasmed as I gave head. Therefore, as we walked back to my room, I wondered why being called ‘slut’ was turning me on so much.

It never had previously, although other than the occasional boneheaded, small-dicked tosser shouting it out his car window at me as I strutted down a street, no one had used that word when referencing me.

’Was it just the naughtiness of the word?’ I wondered. ‘Katie,’ I told myself. ‘You’ve masturbated while fantasising about being a willing slut for dominant men many times, so it’s probably only your subconscious mixing Johnny saying it with your fantasy, and you’re reacting—nothing to worry about there.’

Thinking furiously as I climbed the stairs, I became aware that my son deliberately walked behind me so he could watch my sexy ass sway and added a little bounce to my step. As I walked, I thought, ‘The hypnotherapist has implanted the word slut into my psyche as a trigger for sexual arousal.’ Determined to do something about it, I decided to call his office as soon as they opened.

I reached my door and was about to enter when Johnny placed his hand on my ass and asked, “Mom? Do you want me to sleep with you tonight?”

As his large hands caressed my curvy bottom, a new tingling began between my thighs, and I thought, ’Lawd, do I want that!’ But, instead, I turned towards him and sternly said, “No, Johnny. What we did downstairs can never happen again. It was wrong. You were wrong to start it, and I was wrong to let you. This one time has to be our dirty little secret that we hide forever, okay?” But when I turned, Johnny’s hand caressed my vulva, and even to me, my voice sounded breathy with sexual excitement.

“If you say so, Mom,” Johnny agreed, but his sure hands cupped my large, firm breasts, and his thumbs stroked enticingly across my hardened nipples. “If you no longer wish to be my beautiful, little Mommie slut, say so now, and I’ll stop, okay?”

Summoning the last shreds of my willpower, I backed through the door and closed it. Turning, I sank to the floor and leaned against it. Then, pulling my feet up to my luscious bottom, I spread my knees and pushed two fingers into my sopping pussy. Then, when I found my clit with my thumb, I groaned as a shattering orgasm raced through me. Chuckling, Johnny said, “Goodnight, Mom. If you’re unable to sleep, come and lie with me.”

Peeling off my sodden nightie, I stumbled to the bed and gratefully fell in. ‘Sleep will make things better,’ I thought as I fell into an undisturbed slumber.

By morning, I felt so guilty about what I’d done that I lay in bed until I heard Johnny leave. After showering, I went downstairs to get breakfast. My daughter, much as she’d been when I got home the previous night, sat at the breakfast bar. This morning, she wore a pink, skimpy, V-necked teddy that didn’t reach her tiny matching thong and exposed her cute belly button. Combined, they left all but her nipples and slit uncovered.

Teasing, I said, “Nice view, Kristy.”

Looking down and smiling, my daughter replied, “Do you think so, Mom? Maybe I’ll loan it to you for when Dad comes home next week.”

“It barely covers your 16-Cs,” I pointed out. “It’ll never fit over my Double-Ds.”

Taking it off, her delicious breasts bouncing softly, Kristy said, “Sure it will, see? It undoes at the front so that you can loosen it off.” She undid the laces holding the cups closed, then added, “Here, now you put it on.”

My mouth dry, I stared at my daughter’s lusciously displayed breasts, unaware of anything but the tingling between my legs as I watched their slow lift and fall as she breathed. Kristy lifted the teddy again to indicate I should put it on, and after dragging my eyes off my daughter’s naked bosom, I took it. Then, taking my sweat top off, I pulled it over my head and, after a struggle, got it positioned over my large breasts. “I’m not sure the laces are long enough,” my daughter giggled as she tried to tie them together.

Finally making a tiny bow, Kristy stepped back and said, “Oh, wow, Mom! That is so sexy!” She stepped out of her thong and handed it to me. Pulling on my sweatpants so they fell to the floor and exposed my pantyless ass, she added, “Here, put these on so you can check how you look.”

Trying not to stare at my daughter’s sensually naked body and intensely aware that the gusset of her thong was warm and damp, I wriggled her thong up my shapely thighs and settled it over my recently shaved pussy. They were at least a size too small and clung to my vulva like a second skin, emphasising my pussy’s assets better than being naked would.

Kristy held my upper arm and guided me into the foyer, where I’d placed a full-length mirror to check my appearance before going out. Looking at my reflection, with my big, firm breasts threatening to burst out of my top and my clit and slit clearly defined, I gasped, “I can’t wear these, Kristy! I look almost pornographic!”

“Yeah, you can, Mom,” my daughter giggled. “Stroll into your room wearing this, and Dad is either going to shit, have a heart attack, or cum on the spot!”

Kristy stood behind me, staring at my lush form in the mirror. Almost dreamily, she moved closer and pressed her hard, naked nipples against my back. Stretching her hands around my tummy, Kristy kissed the nape of my neck as she hugged me. After several soft kisses as I shivered and bit my lower lip, she sensuously slid her hands under the teddy onto my tightly held breasts.

Trying not to moan as the tingle moved higher and settled wet and squishy in my yearning pussy, I forced myself to be calm and quietly asked, “Kristy? What are you doing?”

Lightly biting where my neck and shoulder meet, my all-time favourite erogenous zone, my daughter purred, “Shh, Mommie, I’m making you feel good as you did me yesterday, is all.”

Fighting off the desire for her to continue, one incestuous interlude with one of my kids was one too many, I shook my shoulders and broke free of her embrace and growled, “Kristy Ann Muggleton, that’s enough!” Angry at myself but taking it out on her, I added, “It is as inappropriate for you to do that to me as it was for me to do it to you yesterday.”

Because I’d forced her back into the Mom/daughter role, tears filled my daughter’s expressive, big brown eyes, and she sniffed, blushed embarrassedly, and looked at the ground. Holding her fingers with her other hand, she lifted her heel off the ground and submissively twisted her knee back and forth. “Sorry, Mom,” she said contritely. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Knowing I’d made a mess of something I could have handled better, I took her in my arms and softly kissed her ‘bee stung’ lips. “No, baby girl,” I apologised. “It’s I that’s sorry. I liked what you were doing. Too much, maybe. That’s why I panicked and yelled at you.”

Looking shyly up at me through her eyelashes, Kristy asked, “I made you feel good, Mom? Did you have that same squishy feeling I get in my tummy when I’m about to cum?”

Flushing red with embarrassment, I giggled nervously and replied, “Well, it’s a little lower than my tummy, if you know what I mean. But yes, honey. You made me feel squishy.”

Grinning happily, my daughter bounced on her toes, causing her lush C-cups to jiggle enticingly, and clapped her hands. “Do you think it’s the same with women and men, Mom?” She innocently asked. “If I had a boyfriend and kissed him where I kissed you, would he get squishy, too?”

Giggling, I answered, “No, honey. If you did that to your boyfriend, he’d get very stiff instead!”

Suddenly realising we stood in front of a door with clear glass panels on either side, she was naked, and I almost so, Kristy matched my giggle, then said, “Oh, my Gawd! Look at us flashing the neighbours and anyone on the street! Anyone seeing us would think we’re nothing but sluts!”

My body reacted to that word instantly, and with a low growl, I shuddered and orgasmed.

Somewhere in the distance, I heard Kristy saying, “Oh, my, Gawd, Mom! Are you okay? Mom? Mom? Do I need to call an ambulance?”

Realising that I’d slumped to the ground with the intensity of my climax, I scrambled to my feet. Knowing I needed help, I tried to tell Kristy of my suspicions about what Edgar Fontaine had done to me, but my mind drifted away as I sagged back onto the floor. As my mind went blank, I saw,... flicker: image: my knees lewdly spread as lusciously full, red-painted lips descend onto my pussy. “Cunt”, I hear Edgar correct... “Kristy, I’m okay,” I mumble as... flicker: image: red painted lips surround my clitoris and a long, manicured, red-nailed finger slides into my pu – cunt... “You’re not okay, Mom,” my daughter desperately says as she tries... flicker: image: Liz’s probing finger finds my G-spot, and I moan into her pussy as I climax... to rouse me.

“Mom, wake up!” Kristy shouts.

My daughter’s shout snapped me out of my reveries. But before I could voice my concerns, Edgar’s face clouded my vision, and I heard myself saying, “I swear I will follow your process”, and my throat closed. Unable to tell Kristy what had happened to me at the clinic, I tried to tell her my current problems, but every time I did, the feeling of lassitude washed over my body again. Concentrating hard, I formed the words to warn my daughter that I was in trouble. But just as I thought I had them held solidly in my mind, they burst as a branch covered in multi-coloured butterflies does when you shake it, and fluttered away on glittering ephemeral wings.

The only thought about the subject that I still held was that I needed to cancel my next appointment, but as soon as that played in my head, I saw Edgar’s face and heard, “You will return, as you must return. You need what I offer, Katie. I will set you free, and not only from your nicotine addiction.” The warm, squishy feeling between my thighs was now white hot heat in my pussy. Desperate not to orgasm in front of my daughter again, I stood and ran for my bedroom.

Locking the door behind me, I hurried across to the en suite, entered and locked that door, too. Then sitting on the loo, I lifted and spread my knees before pulling the panty’s gusset aside and stuffing two fingers into my slippery with need vagina. Seconds after my thumb found my clitoris, I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming my orgasm to the sky.

“Mom?” Kristy called from outside the en suite’s door. Vaguely wondering how she was in my bedroom when I’d locked the door, I gathered my scattered wits and managed, “Yeah?”

“Are you okay? She asked.

Lying because I couldn’t tell the truth. Not about why I had to run, nor about the trouble I was in, I said, “Yes, baby girl. Your Mommie just thought she was going to puke, so she ran here.”

“Referring to yourself in the third person, Mom?” Kristy questioned. “Not cool! Now, what’s really going on?”

I hated myself for having to do it, but the only way to stop her unanswerable questions was to make her see me as her Mom first again. So, taking a deep breath, I snapped through the door, “Kristy Ann Muggleton, do not take that tone with me. I am your mother, for goodness sake! Not one of your giddy girlfriends.”

There was silence from the other room, and I heard the door close. Sighing, I removed Kristy’s sleepwear, cleaned my pussy, changed into a sundress, and gathered the washing to begin my chores. Kristy was nowhere in sight, which saddened me as I knew I had some fences to mend. Johnny was absent, too, but he’d be at football training and be back around lunchtime. I planned to ensure I wasn’t alone with him until I’d seen Edgar, lest I find myself on my knees before him or bent over offering my pussy again.

The next few days were ones of uncomfortable silences when my daughter and I were alone together and leering, knowing grins from Johnny every time he thought his sister wasn’t watching. I tried to talk to Kristy many times, but as I opened my mouth, a hurt expression developed on her face, and she’d turned away, rebuffing my attempts.

Johnny kept talking to me and attempting to get me alone, but I was able to avoid situations that could lead to me being in compromising positions with him. But, whenever we passed, he’d cup my ass familiarly and whisper that he hoped we’d soon have some time together alone.

Although I love my husband, I’m typically indifferent to his absences as they happen so regularly that I’m almost a sole parent. This time, though, I eagerly awaited his return as that would ensure fewer chances for Johnny to manoeuvre me alone. The problem was that I’d see my children and ache. Sexual arousal became my constant companion, and I masturbated far more regularly than usual, often six or seven times a day.

When I woke in the mornings, I’d find myself lying on my tummy, face pressed into the pillow, with my fingers stroking and thrusting into my enflamed pussy. Worse, I remembered vague parts of what had me turned on in my dream, and it was always doing unspeakable lesbian acts with the therapist’s secretary. As a result, I feared to sleep and spent many restless hours walking the house, trying to stay awake.

As well as my constant need for sexual relief, I felt deeply ashamed after willingly allowing my son to take me and could not sleep. Racked by guilt and fear of the dream visions continually playing through my subconscious as I slept, I paced the house for four nights. On the fourth night, I opened a kitchen cupboard looking for the box of chamomile tea I was sure I had in there. I’d bought the chamomile tea earlier when I’d had another bout of restless nights as it helps me to sleep. I opened the box and found some teabags and a secreted box of Benson & Hedges cigarettes. Sean hated me smoking inside, but I loved to smoke and drink wine as I cooked and hid a packet in there so that even if he was home, I could sneak one from time to time. Over time, I’d forgotten I had left them there.

Looking at the box, I remembered how many enjoyable nights I’d spent lying around the lounge room with a few good girlfriends, drinking and smoking. We’d tell tales, compare notes on our husbands, and laugh at the antics of our ‘mere males’. Taking one out, I contemplated it for a bit, then thought, ‘Fuck it! Edgar said I’d probably begin again before my next appointment’ and lit it up.

I drew as much of that divine smoke as I could take, then held until I had to release. Taking another deep draw, I felt the constant tension knot in my mind snap, and I relaxed. Suddenly exhausted, I took another drag before regretfully pinching the cigarette out and opening the window to let the smell out. After spraying air freshener to ensure the kids wouldn’t smell the smoke, I put the packet back in the tea box and went to bed.

Eight restful, dreamless hours later, I woke to see it was 11.00 am. I was surprised because, other than a vague ache of want in my nether regions, I didn’t feel horny for the first time since my appointment with Mister Fontaine. Now my mind was clear, I thought, ‘That’s it! Edgar planted a suggestion to react sexually to being called a slut! I’m ringing him immediately to rebuke him before calling the cops.’

Using the number recall on my mobile, I phoned his office and got his secretary. “The Fontaine Clinic, Liz Donnelly speaking. How may I help you?”

Thinking, ‘And I’ll deal with you next, bitch. Using me as if I were a lesbian? Oh, yes! You’ll get yours!’ “Katie Muggleton speaking, Ms Donnelly,” I said. “I need to speak to Edgar immediately. It’s a matter of grave urgency.”

“Mister Fontaine’s with a client at this time, Mrs Muggleton.” Liz’s culturally smooth voice replied. “May I get him to call you when he’s finished?”

“No!” I snarled. “If you don’t put him on the phone immediately, I’m calling the cops!”

Suddenly all traces of urbanity disappeared from Liz’s voice as she calmly, authoritatively replied, “Mrs Muggleton, I need you to take a seat and relax. I’m sure we can discuss whatever your concerns are rationally without resorting to threats.”

I began ranting again, but Liz interrupted by snarling, “Katie, my little cunt lapping slut, sit!”

To my surprise and horror, I immediately dropped onto my ass on the floor. My father’s discipline immediately took over, and I pulled my knees together and folded my legs under my thighs, ensuring I revealed little of my ‘assets’.

Hearing the thump of my curvy ass hitting the floor, Liz’s voice returned to civility, and she added, “I bet, as your father taught you, you’re sitting with your knees bent and your lower legs protecting your sweet, little pussy, aren’t you, Katie? You have your lush, firm boobies pressed against your thighs so no one can see them? But that pose isn’t you, is it, my little Katie slut?”

My pussy gushing arousal fluids, I bit my bottom lip to try and restrain a moan and remained silent. Knowing my refusal to answer was an answer itself, Liz continued, “Of course, it isn’t, Katie. And by now, you know it. Instead, you’re an incestuous, bisexual slut who lives to be fucked by her children. Tell me, Katie slut, have you fucked either of them yet?”

“No, no, no!” I soundlessly protested as my knees parted and my fingers slid inside the furnace that was my pussy. Then, as soon as my thumb found my clitoris, I grunted and groaned through an extreme, almost violent orgasm.

“Tell me, Ms Katie slut,” came Liz’s grinning, self-satisfied voice. “Which of your children have you already fucked?”

My mouth opened despite my desire to remain silent, and I replied, “Johnny.”

I could hear her knowing grin as she asked her next question, “When was that? The night after your first session, right? My, my, my, my little Katie slut, were you a willing slut for Edgar and me during your session. Most patients at their first session barely get past being unwilling to let me take their clothes off. Yet, you, you slut, let me suck your tits and eat your juicy cunt. You even licked me, Katie! I bet you smelt me all the way home and wondered what it was.”

Another orgasm built as she spoke, and suddenly my mind lost touch with reality again ... flicker: image: Liz’s probing finger finds my G-spot, and I moan into her pussy as I climax ... Flicker: image: Now that I’m cumming, Liz begins working fluids onto and into my tiny rosebud, preparing it for penetration... :Flicker: image: Liz’s soft tongue devours my pussy juices as I groan, tilt my head and lick her clit.

Screaming, my entire body, from shoulders to heels, arched off the carpet. Holding that pose, I forced my fingers as far into my pussy as possible. Then, I climaxed intensely, with my body jittering and juddering from the shocks.

“Good, slut (a small orgasm passes over me.),” Liz said smilingly. “Now, stop resisting what Edgar has done for you. He will set you free, Katie slut (Another petite orgasm slams into me.), and not only from your nicotine addiction. Don’t resist your desires, slut Katie (orgasm), as following them will help Edgar set you free. Now say, ‘Yes, Mistress’, hang up and go about your business.”

“Yes, Mistress,” I muttered, shutting off the call. I lay there, my eyes blank and seeing nothing except the final image. Me, lifting my head and willingly tonguing Liz’s aromatic clitoris, only, as my fingers sped up in my pussy, her pussy morphed into my daughter’s tiny, sweet, big clitted one, and it was her I licked.

After another screamed orgasm, my body thrashing and bouncing across the floor, I staggered to my feet and stumbled into the shower. Later, as I peered into the mirror, applying my makeup, I knew something was wrong. But even as I concentrated on what it might be, the thoughts burst into wings and fluttered away, leaving me feeling horny and sexually frustrated. Finished making myself up, I wondered if my son had returned, dressed provocatively for him, and walked to the kitchen.

Kristy was home from her uni class and sat at the breakfast bar in her typical way. Left knee tucked under her bum, and her legs spread wide apart. Because she’d been to class, she was, at least, reasonably conservatively dressed. Only, in this pose, her tight jean shorts clung to every part of her vulva, leaving the outline of her entrance and slit displayed.

Gulping and hoping she couldn’t smell my arousal, I looked at her head and walked toward her. Hearing my steps, my daughter looked up, smiled, and teased, “Wow, were you loud, Mum! Three times, I heard you cum. You must be really missing Dad, huh?”

“I will be ecstatic when your father returns,” I confirmed. “And I am missing him something fierce.” ‘Just not for the reasons you’re imagining, my girl. Instead of wishing for him to come home and ‘ease my needs’. I needed him home to prevent me from tripping my children, so they fell between my willing thighs. Although I wouldn’t argue if Sean wanted to ‘ease my needs,’ I added with an inner giggle.’

Kristy continued smiling and holding my gaze for a little longer before her eyes fell, and a slow blush suffused her face. Looking at the ground, she stifled a small sob and whispered, “I’m sorry about the other day, Mom. I was inappropriate, and you were right to admonish me. I hate that we’re not talking, can you please forgive me and be my friend again?”

Using my mother’s voice, my conscience castigated me, ‘Well done, Katie. You became sexually excited because you desired your daughter, then overreacted and destroyed her trust by yelling at her. Now, instead of you apologising to her, she’s crying because she feels you’ve withdrawn your love. What a good mother you make. Well done you!’

There was only one thing to do, so I did it. I knelt between my daughter’s knees, pressed my barely covered breasts against her soft tummy, took her head in my hands, brought it close, and softly kissed the pouting lips on her beautiful face. Running my hands sensuously up and down her inner thighs, my fingers daringly near her shorts-covered pussy, I kissed her again, just a little more firmly and insistently, before whispering, “The problem, my darling girl, was that I was about to orgasm and I was embarrassed because I didn’t think that was right.”

Running her fingers through my hair, our lips only millimetres apart, Kristy tremulously smiled and quietly asked, “If I hadn’t panicked the first time, and Johnny hadn’t cum in his pants the second, would you have made me cum those two times?”

Kissing her softly again, barely preventing myself from turning it into a full-on French kiss, I nodded, “Yes, honey, I would have loved to have made you climax both times.”

Leaning back as she stared longingly at my lips, wondering if she dared kiss me passionately (Or that’s how I interpreted the look), Kristy asked firmly, “Why is it okay for you to make me feel good, but not okay for me to return the favour?”

I didn’t have an answer for her as I didn’t understand my motivations or reasons. I only knew that making her feel good seemed natural. Something a mother should do for her sexually inexperienced daughter. But receiving pleasure from her smacked of an uneven power exchange. Perhaps I worried that she reciprocated because I was her mother, and she had to, not because she wanted to.

I began sobbing because I felt terrible for hurting her and tried to explain what I’d thought (Described above). Kristy didn’t understand what I tried to say, but she accepted that I was sorry, and somehow, we were best friends again. My conscience appreciated that Kristy hadn’t pursued me kissing her sensually, but the blazing furnace that had replaced my vagina wished she had.

Standing and pulling me up with her, Kristy pushed me a little away, then took my hand and spun me slowly around. I wore a bright orange cross-over halterneck cut-out side mini bodycon dress and nothing else. A bra would have been redundant as the cross-over pieces cupped and supported my globes beautifully, and I hardly ever wore panties anyway, so I was sans both. My shoes were Gianvito Rossi, seven-inch heeled, suede pumps.

“Phhuuwwweeeeet-Phheeew, Mum!” Kristy whistled. “Wow, you’re gorgeous! I wish I looked as good as you!”

“Oh, but you do, my love,” I replied. Feeling joyous because my daughter and I were close again, I took her hand and dragged her after me. “Come on. I want to show you something.” I guided her upstairs, along the hall, and into the craft room. Searching amongst the shelves, I found the two albums I wanted and brought them to my craft table. Then opening mine to the age my daughter was now, I laid it beside the one I’d recently finished scrapping and began flipping pages over.

As it’s impossible to tell height differences between photos unless the subjects are side by side or stand beside some recognisable object, our pictures were eerily similar and could easily have been of the same person. When I commented that Kristy was a virtual mini-me, I didn’t exaggerate. In these pics, we looked as if someone had cloned us.

Looking at me wonderingly, Kristy said, “That would mean I could wear pretty much the same clothes as you. We have the same hair, eye and skin colouring and are close enough to the same size. But if I’m as pretty as you, Mom, why don’t I have a steady boyfriend?”

Trying to be gentle, I replied, “Because you act cold towards men, honey. The other night, you said you were a virgin, right?” Kristy nodded. “And that you were afraid to go all the way because you feared getting pregnant, yes?” My daughter nodded again. “So, baby girl, that fear makes you standoffish and comes across as you being a cold-hearted bitch too good for any man she sees.”

“Did you have that problem as a teenager, Mom,” Kristy asked.

Giggling, I coquettishly flounced so my bosom jiggled, then widened my eyes as far as possible, turned and looked back over my shoulder as I held my hair over one side of my neck and let a tiny, amused smile play over my lips before hooding my eyes, pursing my lips and staring at her intently.

With her lips suddenly dry and her hands unknowingly on her nipples, Kristy moaned and said, “OMG, Mom! That was, I dunno, WOW!”

I smiled, “Honey, I had no trouble finding a boyfriend. Most of the time, I had to beat them off with a stick!”

Unawarely kneading her breasts, Kristy bit her bottom lip before pleading, “Will you show me, please? Show me how to do what you just did. That was so sexy that I’m sure men crashed their cars or walked into things when you did it.”

“Oh, baby,” I sighed. “You don’t want that type of attention. It’s the type that...” Realising that I was about to say ‘sluts’, I stopped, afraid of what I might do if I heard that word voiced. But before I could replace it with another, my daughter innocently said, “The type sluts get? Is that what you were about to say, Mom?”

Shuddering as an intense climax ripped through my body, I sank onto the loveseat and tried to pretend I was doing anything else but having an orgasm. However, even someone less experienced than my daughter would know I’d just cum, and Kristy certainly did!

Another piece added to the puzzle, Kristy said, “Do you like being called ‘slut’, Mommie?” I moaned, and my knees sprang apart. “Slut,” Kristy repeated. Shuffling down, I let my dress drag above my hips. “Mommie slut.” My daughter tried.

“Please, Kristy,” I begged, as my fingers probed between my salaciously spread thighs. But for what I didn’t articulate.

Looking at me with curiosity, my daughter asked, “My Mommie slut? A slut for me?”

I protested, “No, Kristy, please! I can’t. It’s wrong!”

I pleaded, begged and tried to refuse, but my daughter stood, arms folded and staring imperiously down at me, and I slid off the couch, crawled over, and knelt before her. Sobbing, I looked up at my sweet innocent daughter and knew that if she asked, I’d destroy her innocence by eating her sweet, young, virginal pussy.

Luckily, my tears ashamed my daughter, and she dropped to her knees before me and hugged me. Her tears joined mine, and she repeatedly whispered, “I’m so sorry, Mom. I’m so sorry, Mom. I’m so sorry, Mom. I thought you were aroused, and I wanted to make you feel good, not cry.”

“I am aroused, honey,” I sobbed. “The problem is that when someone calls me ‘slut’” (I had to stop as I shuddered, trying not to climax), “When someone calls me that name, I become aroused and submissive and will do anything they ask.”

“So, if I want a new car,” Kristy joked. “All I have to do is call you sl, umm, that word and ask you for one, and you’d buy it for me?”