Chapter 4

My mother leaned back and looked at me, that devilish smile once more on her lips.

“Your dad told me how submissive you are, you know,” she said. “Funny thing, genetics. You don’t get that from him, that’s for sure.” She chewed her lip for a moment, contemplating me. “Is your submission just how you naturally are, or is it your response to your dad?” she asked in a musing tone. “I suppose that one’s sexual responses are often a product of one’s first experience. I suppose, in your defense, that if your dad had been my first he’d have ruined me for other men. Poor you. Or lucky you, I suppose.”

“Daddy wasn’t my first,” I said, only because it was true, not because I was arguing.

She waved her hand airily. “That Kenny boy? Yes, I thought you’d slept with him. He doesn’t count. Did he rock your world, baby? Did he make you come so hard you passed out? Did he make you cry out his name? No, I can see in your eyes that he didn’t.”

She wasn’t wrong; I’d have nodded in agreement if she hadn’t been holding my head still.

“Most people don’t get sex, Sweetie. Now, your dad ... he gets it. He really gets it. It’s about being in your head as much as it is being in your body, at the same time and in the same way. So he’s totally in you, all at once, and there’s no escaping it.”

Her face took on a slightly dreamy expression, as if she was thinking back on her experiences at dad’s hands. If I hadn’t experienced exactly what she was referring to, I’d have been skeptical, but the fact was that she was absolutely right. He was in my head from the moment we began, and it was that, more than anything else, that drove me to complete obedience, that drove my submission and pushed me towards multiple orgasms.

She shook her head as if dismissing a thought. “So, now you’re Daddy’s slut, and I missed it.” She sighed. “What a time for that stupid work trip. I’d been waiting months for this, ever since you turned sixteen.” She smiled at me. “It was only a matter of time, Pam.”

She pulled my top up abruptly, exposing my breasts as we stood together in the kitchen, her body still pinning me to the table. “The other question I had is whether or not you’re submissive to me, too,” and she cupped my breast in her hand, running her thumb idly over my nipple.

I could only stare at her in shock. I hadn’t expected that question, either. I already knew the answer, too, even if I couldn’t find my voice.

“Have you ever been with a girl, Pam?” she asked, and this time she obviously expected a response.

“No, Mom,” I whispered.

“Hmmm, that’s a shame,” she shrugged. “Be easier if you had. Nevertheless ... there’s a certain appeal to you being so fresh and innocent. Turn around.”

I was still reeling from the fresh and innocent comment, trying to fit it into the current context, so I missed her instruction to turn. I certainly didn’t respond fast enough, so it was my own fault when her expression hardened and her hand came down and slapped across my breast. I gasped, more with surprise than pain at the blow, but my skin was tingling where she’d struck me and my nipple was suddenly very sensitive. “I said turn around,” and this time I heard her clearly and obeyed swiftly.

I faced away from her, the edge of the table digging into my thighs, and I again felt her hand slide into my hair. Then she was pulling me down across the table, forcing me to bend, pushing my face into the wood. “Little submissive sluts deserve to be punished, don’t they?” she asked, and I felt her lift my skirt up over my hips and trail her hand over the bare skin of my ass.

“Yes, Mom,” I said quickly, trying to show her I’d be good, I’d be compliant, in the hope she wouldn’t hurt me too much.

Her hand came down on my upturned ass with a crack that echoed around the kitchen. It didn’t hurt anywhere near as much as when dad spanked me, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that my mom was spanking my bare bottom while she held me pinned by my hair over the kitchen table, and I was reacting to her. I couldn’t deny how much I was reacting; I was so turned on I could barely think, and by my mom, of all people.

“You do have a nice ass,” she said, as she landed a solid slap on my other ass-cheek. “It’s really very spankable,” she commented as the next blow returned to the first cheek. “I suppose it would be, given that you’ve got my ass, you lucky thing.” She was right on that; we had very similar bodies and I really had inherited all her best features, including her ass.

She leaned over me until her lips were near my ear. It was very similar to the position I’d found myself in on the bed with dad the day before. “Daddy tells me you’ll do anything after a good spanking,” she murmured, and then she sank her sharp teeth into my earlobe again. I gasped, trying to pull away, but her hand was still twisted in my hair. Damn, but she had a sadistic streak. I’d never have guessed; prior to that day she’d never so much as laid a finger on me.

“Is that right, Sweetie?” she asked, licking softly at my earlobe where she’d bitten it, then trailing the tip of her warm, wet tongue across my ear. I shivered. “Are you a good little submissive slut after a spanking?”

It was another question that I couldn’t decide how to answer, or even if she expected one at all, but she wasn’t done.

“Are you able to decide, dear, or do I need to get out the riding crop?”

What? Mom has a riding crop? By this point, nothing she said would’ve surprised me, and while her spanking wasn’t as strong or as painful as dad’s had been, I had absolutely no doubt she could make up for it with a riding crop. “You have a riding crop?” I asked incredulously.

She smiled. “Well, actually, it’s Daddy’s, but I know where he keeps it.”

Holy crap. My parents must be even kinkier than I thought they were. “Does he use it on you?”

“Only when I’m especially naughty.”

“Doesn’t that hurt? I mean, isn’t that worse than a spanking?

“Yes, of course it does.” Then she really shocked me when she added, “So I’m only especially naughty every other Saturday.”

Dad has a riding crop, and mom goads him into using it on her? “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you do that? If it really hurts, why do you try to get him to use it on you?”

I felt her hand move against my nakedness. Bent over the table as I was, my ass high in the air, there was nothing impeding her access to me. Her hand moved down over my ass and her fingers pushed between my legs, and immediately she was as aware as I was of how wet she had made me.

“Oh, how delightful!” she purred against my ear as she easily pushed a finger inside me. I gasped at the touch, my body shivering. “Such a submissive slut you are! A little bit of a spanking and you’re all wet for me. So can you guess why I act naughty?”

“You ... you like it?”

“There’s a difference between pain for pleasure, pain that turns someone on, and pain that’s for punishment,” she said diffidently. “That’s why a spanking turns you on, especially when it isn’t really punishment. The first time your dad spanked you, it was for punishment, but the other times, well, you knew it really wasn’t, didn’t you?”

I hesitated, but she had me figured out pretty well and she raised her eyebrow.

“Yes, I knew,” I admitted.

“So are you going to do exactly as you’re told, or do I have to punish you?”

There was such an implied threat that it was easy to respond. “I will obey you, Mom, I swear.”

She purred, a throaty sound, full of sex and promise. “There’s my good little slut.” She gave my ass another sharp slap. “Upstairs, girl.” She released her hold on my hair and I stood up slowly. “And be prepared to obey, or you can guarantee that the riding crop is coming out, and not for pleasure.”

“Yes, Mom.”

She followed me as I headed for the stairs, and I was very much reminded of a similar situation with dad. This time I knew she’d want me to turn left and go to their room, not my own. I felt butterflies in my stomach about what that might mean. Have you ever been with a girl, Pam? I knew that was about to change and the girl in question was going to be my mom. I walked into my parents’ bedroom, recalling that I’d spent more time there than in my own the past few days.

“Strip, Pam,” she said from behind me as she entered. “You’re way overdressed for the little slut I know you to be.”

I didn’t take that in a derogatory way. I now knew she was a little slut too, and I felt a certain bond with her for that similarity. We were both Daddy’s little sluts, and she was going to make me hers, too. I pulled off my top as I reflected on that, then unfastened my skirt and let it fall down my legs to the floor. I was naked that quickly, but she still beat me to it; all she’d had to do was remove her robe. I watched her lie down on the bed, and knew I was looking at myself twenty years from now. Not bad, not bad at all; I’d be very happy looking like that when I’d passed forty.

She had the curves of womanhood but the leanness of someone who regularly saw the inside of a gym. She was toned without being muscular, courtesy of her pilates and yoga, and her breasts and ass were tight and firm. I had all that without going to the gym, gifted to me by age instead of effort, and, aside from a few laughter lines showing her age, we could’ve been twins. We were often mistaken for sisters, and it was as much a compliment to me as it was for her.

I saw that her mons was perfectly smooth, just like mine, but, as she lay on the bed, her legs were still together and I could not be sure whether she waxed her labia. But from what my dad had said, I figured that was a yes, and I also figured that I’d have intimate, firsthand knowledge of that fact in just a few moments.

“Come to me,” she said softly, patting the bed. “I want to be able to look at you, to touch you.”

I’d promised to obey her, so I climbed onto the bed and crawled to her on all fours, conscious of the heat in her gaze as she watched me.

“Mmm,” she hummed, and she held her arms out to me, and I went to her, aware of how rarely my mom had offered me a cuddle in the past and extremely conscious that we were both naked. She drew me into her, our breasts pushing together as she pulled me over her, and I felt her hand slide down my back, her fingers splaying over the top of my ass. Then she kissed me, and all other thoughts were driven from me.

Her lips were soft, her hand stroked my face gently as she kissed, and she teased my lips with her tongue until I opened to her. Then her hand slid into my hair, and she held my head still as she probed my mouth. I whimpered beneath her kiss, held helplessly but not wanting to pull away.

“Mmm, you taste nice,” she said as she broke the kiss. “Like fresh strawberries, with a hint of innocence just waiting to be stripped away.” She giggled at her own commentary, a wicked sound that carried a promise of what she wanted to do to me.

Her hand twisted in my hair again, gripping me tight, while her other clenched around my bare ass, pulling me to her. “God, I’ve been waiting ages for this moment,” she murmured to me. “And now you’re naked, and submissive, and all mine.”

I shivered at the intensity of her words and what they might mean for me.

“I can’t wait any longer,” she said, “I need your tongue between my legs.” She began pushing down on my head, her insistence adding to her command.

I slid down her body, kissing and licking as I went, and she seemed willing to allow me to delay, to tease, as long as my progress was consistently downward. I didn’t really know what I was doing, so placing kisses across her breasts, making a small lick on her nipple, and running the tip of my tongue over her tummy merely served to postpone the moment when I would have to show my inexperience.

As I slipped lower, her legs parted beneath me, her hand still entwined in my hair and pushing me, until there was no further way to delay. Her sex was open before me and I could see her arousal glistening on her smooth labia. I was struck with the incongruous thought that even her pussy looked similar to my own, but then she was done waiting and she pulled my face against her.

We both gasped at that initial contact – her for at last having the stimulation she’d been seeking, and me for the first touch, the first taste, of a woman’s sex. Her hips lifted slightly as she rubbed me against her and I felt her arousal coat my nose and cheeks.

“Fuck, yes,” she moaned, “I’m going to have you between my legs for hours, my little slut.” Her other hand came into my hair, her grip on me absolute. “Now lick. Lick, and don’t stop licking, or I will punish you until you are begging to be allowed to obey.”