Chapter 2

“Get your ass upstairs, Jenny!”

I obeyed and rushed to my room, which was empty. Slightly confused, I followed the feminine moans coming from my Mother’s room.

As I got closer, anxiety crept in. It couldn’t be! There was no way Karen had seduced my Mother already!

Now, even after a week plus of surprises, nothing could have remotely prepared me for what I was about to see.

My Mother was tied to her own bed! She had a toy buzzing away in her pussy and Karen was straddled over my Mom’s face. From Karen’s moans, it was obvious that my Mother was licking my friend’s and Mistress’s cunt. I stared in perverse curiosity and shock.

Karen had predicted she would get my Mother and, although I had doubted the prediction, although I thought it may be possible eventually, I never expected this extreme of a sight!

I stood there frozen for what seemed like an eternity but was only a minute or two before Karen screamed, while rubbing her pussy all over my Mother’s face, “That’s it Mommy, I’m coming, lick your Mistress’ cunt, yesssssss!”

Karen collapsed forward and, although my Mother couldn’t see me yet, I could see that at least her forehead was shining with pussy juice. I was mortified! I was shocked! I was mystified!

Karen looked back at me and asked with a purr, “I bet you’re dying to know how this happened?”

I’m not sure ‘dying to know’ would be the descriptor I would have used, but yes, I was curious.

Karen ordered, “Mommy slut, tell your daughter how you ended up being my personal plaything.”

Mom looked up and our eyes met. The look of humiliation on her face was extreme. She let out a soft sigh before apologizing frantically, “I am so sorry, Jenny, so sorry. I just couldn’t resist.”

Karen turned back to her and demanded, “Enough, Mommy slut. Just tell your daughter how you ended up submitting to me.”

Mom broke eye contact with me but nevertheless began...

The timeline of this story was complicated to write. In the end I decided to tell it in the present, in the past and eventually also as a flashback. To make the distinctions clear, the normal font is the past, the italics are the present and the bold is the flashback.

MOM’S STORY

Karen’s cum glistening on my face, I was ordered by my new Mistress, who was also my daughter’s cheerleading friend Karen, to tell my only daughter Jenny how I came to be tied up on my own bed, a vibrator in my vagina and her friend straddling my face.

I began telling my story, still secured to my bed by nylon stockings, completely naked, horny, ashamed and vulnerable in front of my daughter.

“Jenny, I knew something was up the first time I met Karen, that first morning when you became a cheerleader. She seemed to have something intriguing about her I couldn’t put my finger on.”

As I began to tell my humiliating story of submission, Karen took pity on me to a degree and untied my wrists from their tight, nylon restraints. I thanked the eighteen-year-old, “Thank you, Mistress.”

“You’re welcome, Mommy slut,” she replied, painting my shame another shade darker.

I continued, “That said, at the time I was way more intrigued by my daughter’s overnight transformation than I was by her pretty cheerleader friend.”

Karen, sitting beside me now, did one quick pump of the toy she’d shoved inside me.

I whimpered and went on. “But the next day my attention began to shift without my even noticing it when Karen offered me a foot massage. I accepted, and as Karen so gently caressed my feet, I felt a long-forgotten tingle in my vagina, a pleasure center that had been largely ignored since your father passed.”

“Your what, slut?” Karen reprimanded me.

“Sorry, Mistress, I’m supposed to call it a cunt. I felt a tingle in my ‘cunt’. When you two were getting ready to leave, I couldn’t believe that I purposely stretched, trying to showcase my big breasts to Karen like a cougar yearning to look attractive to this teenager. When Karen kissed me on the cheek ever so delicately, I felt a chill go up my back. When she hugged me, her hand resting on my ass, I finally concluded that no question, Karen was indeed flirting with me. Yet instead of being flattered I was mortified that I had allowed my daughter’s friend to massage my feet so sensuously, and even more stunned that I both liked it and wanted her to touch me even more. Once you two were gone I went directly to my bedroom and masturbated myself to a very intense orgasm, my first good one since your father died. But once my orgasm had faded I was embarrassed by my impulsive actions and promised myself I wouldn’t let such innocent flirting, if she was even flirting at all, distract me.”

“You seem pretty distracted right now, dyke,” Karen pointed out, beginning to fuck me slowly with the toy.

“Y-y-yes, that’s true,” I agreed, unable to deny my newfound desire to come over and over. I continued telling my daughter about my complete fall from grace, “Obviously I couldn’t control my desire. When I came into Jenny’s room and Karen kissed my cheek a day or two later, whichever it was, I realized two things: one, I had a crush on my daughter’s new friend and two, my daughter was a lesbian.”

“How did you know that?” Karen led me on.

“At the time it was just a hunch. As for you Karen, well ... I knew I had a crush on you the second you came into my house and kissed me on both cheeks again. I instinctively almost moved in for a kiss on your lips and barely managed to stop myself. But when you complimented me saying, ‘Mrs. Wyatt, you look amazing today,’ I became your putty. When I felt your hand just grazing my ass, any thoughts I had that you were only being friendly evaporated. As I watched you leave, my vagina ... I mean my cunt was tingling uncontrollably as I checked out your amazing legs from behind. Once you two went upstairs, I took a long cold drink of water, trying desperately to ignore my inappropriate fascination with my daughter’s eighteen-year-old cheerleader friend. But I couldn’t, it just kept building.”

“Did you masturbate downstairs, my slave?” Karen inquired.

“No, Mistress. I controlled my desires, but then I heard your screaming orgasm and rushed up the stairs. As soon as I entered the room I knew my daughter was a lesbian.”

“How did you conclude that?” Karen asked curiously, the toy now fully inside me.

“The sexual tension in the room and Jenny’s ruby red cheeks told me she was guilty about something. Your red face and slightly heavy breathing, Karen, was the next clue. There was no way you had stubbed your toe. Then you asked me to check your toe and I knew this was where I should put a stop to everything by refusing, but instead I knelt down beside you, suddenly feeling absurdly nervous. I could smell your sex instantly and as soon as I looked up I could see your shaved cunt glistening, so I concluded that my precious daughter’s face had just been busy in there. I then gave you the foot massage you requested, my own cunt beginning to leak into my panties. I couldn’t resist and took many quick glimpses between your legs and into your cunt, and even though I was pretty sure you both saw me doing it, I couldn’t resist my fascination. Once I was done and you kissed me on both cheeks again, I panicked and needed to leave the room. Then just as I was leaving, I glanced over at my daughter who was staring at me, still with guilt all over her face, and her face shiny with what could only have been your juice. Completely out of my element, I quickly fled the room ... I couldn’t get out of there fast enough! I was rattled the rest of the evening, long after you left. Supper with my daughter that evening was awkward as I knew what she’d done and I felt she knew exactly what I was feeling, that I was so horny for you I couldn’t stand it! But of course I couldn’t admit that to her. That evening, alone in my bed again, I masturbated myself to not one or two, but three orgasms, imagining it had been me between Karen’s legs, not my daughter. I couldn’t believe I had become such a poor mother that instead of protecting my daughter from Karen’s insinuous sexuality, I was envious of your lesbian opportunity.”

“Do you want to cum, slut?” Karen asked.

“Yes please, Mistress,” I replied honestly.

“Even in front of your daughter?” Karen continued to humiliate me.

“Yes, Mistress,” I replied, ashamed but defeated.

Pulling the toy out of me, causing a loud swishing sound as it emerged, she promised, “Well, once you finish telling her your story I’ll fuck you to an orgasm.”

“Yes, Mistress, thank you,” I responded, unable to hide my excitement at the opportunity of being fucked by this eighteen-year-old Domme cheerleader.

I continued my tawdry tale, still avoiding eye contact with my daughter, “So then on the weekend while you girls were at your cheerleading retreat, I searched through Jenny’s computer.”

“Mom!” Jenny gasped, “how could you?”

I looked at my daughter for the first time in a while and answered apologetically, “I’m so sorry, honey. You know I’ve always respected your privacy, but with the recent changes in you and the changes in me, I just had to know! For one thing I needed to know that things weren’t even worse for you than they appeared: that you weren’t in danger.”

I could see the devastation of my betrayal in her eyes, oddly more than I’d even seen when she’d first found me in this sexual predicament. She muttered, “I still can’t believe you’d do that.”

Karen ended the drama. “Enough with the pretended shock, Jenny. You knew I was going to seduce and fuck your Mom, and you didn’t do anything to stop me.”

It was my turn to be shocked. “You knew?”

Jenny now on the defensive, at first she barked, “That’s not true!” but then relented, “Well I suppose it is true, but Mom, I never in a million years thought you’d actually succumb to her charms. It was just way too preposterous a notion.” She paused, looked at me with a resigned expression and went on, “But apparently it wasn’t so preposterous after all.”

My head was reeling with all this new information, yet it didn’t change anything. Whatever Jenny had or hadn’t known, it was still undeniable that I was the adult and that it was I who had submitted to Karen.

Getting back to the story at hand, the tale of my utter submission to my daughter’s friend, I continued, “Anyway Jenny, as I searched your computer I kept finding surprise after surprise. First, I found you frequently visited a website called Literotica where you read almost exclusively lesbian fiction. I read some of the stories you’d saved on your hard drive and many had similar themes: submissive lesbian stories. It didn’t take long for it to sink in that my daughter was clearly a lesbian, clearly submissive and just beginning to learn about her sexuality. I have to admit when I read the story Training Teacher, I actually came hard, imagining myself as the teacher during that seductive parent-teacher interview. I copied the links to some other stories to read later on my own private laptop before continuing to search your computer. Not as research on how I could help my daughter this time, just because they were hot and struck a chord in me.

I had to think briefly to remember where I’d left off before I continued, “Well, I decided I’d have to confront Jenny when she returned from her cheerleading retreat, although I really had no idea how even to begin. I didn’t want her to know I’d been on her computer and reading her private stuff! Conflicted and confused, I shut down her computer and contemplated how I might deal with this. I didn’t get anywhere, so I just went to bed and jilled off endlessly before falling asleep.

“The next day, yesterday, I must confess I spent hours online, reading story after story on the Literotica website in the lesbian section. Occasionally I would click on another story listed as having a similar theme to a story I was just finishing. This led me to the occasional group sex story and, I hate to admit it, even a few incest stories. It wasn’t the incest that turned me on, but the utter submission of the mother to the daughter that did. For example, I ... no, never mind.”

“You can’t just start something delicious like that, then leave us hanging,” Karen objected.

“No, it’s not important,” I responded, trying desperately to make it seem like it was really nothing.

“Would you like be punished in front of your daughter?” Karen threatened.

“No!” I responded, quick as a knee-jerk, terrified at what the sexy but powerful teen might do to me and how that would make me look to my daughter, as if it could get any worse than it already was! My face flushed with embarrassment I admitted, “There was a story called ‘Mommies Make Good Puppies’ about a daughter who dominated her Mom and made her into her pet, like a puppy. I can’t explain it, but such utter submission had me so wet, I ended up fucking myself with a hairbrush.”

“You don’t have any toys?” Karen asked, flabbergasted.

“No,” I admitted.

“Well, that’s just stupid. We’ll change that very soon,” Karen promised.

“Ok,” I agreed, although the smirk on her face had me slightly worried.

“So you fucked yourself with a brush fantasizing about being your daughter’s pet?”

“No, no, no,” I adamantly denied, “I got off on the utter submission, not the incest part.”

“Sure you did,” Karen responded, dismissing my distinction between one and the other.

“No, really!” I countered, desperate to end this talk of incest, especially with my daughter right here in the room watching Karen dominate me and imagining who knows what.

“Jenny, would you like to have a pet?” Karen asked.

My mouth dropped open, mortified at the question. Jenny luckily had the same mindset as mine and blurted, “No!”

“You sure? Mommy seems like she would be a very good little pet for you. A very obedient little pet. She comes highly recommended ... by me,” Karen teased, clearly trying to humiliate me even further.

Jenny shook her head, clearly as uncomfortable as I was with this topic.

Karen shrugged, looking directly at me, “Whatever. Maybe later. So then what happened, slut?”

Thankful that the awkward incest conversation was over, hopefully forever, I continued, “Yesterday I did my best to avoid the temptation of my newfound libido, but I ended up spending a few more hours on Literotica. I learned I could search by tags and searched under the lesbian category using tags like submissive, blackmailed, domination, teenager. I don’t know how many times I got off yesterday, but it was more than a dozen.”

“Wow!” Karen responded, impressed, “When the dam breaks, it really breaks.”

I blushed again, although my face was probably stuck on ruby red forever. “I also tried endlessly to think of a way of talking to my daughter. Jenny, I still hadn’t come up with a plan that looked at all feasible by the time you were due to return home last night, so I just chickened out, fled to a donut shop and sat there stuffing my face with pastries while I avoided the inevitable confrontation with you, knowing I couldn’t hide forever. By the time I came home and snuck in the front door you were asleep in bed. I thought maybe I could deal with it today somehow, maybe just blurt out something unbearably awkward and wing it from there, but you’d gone somewhere by the time I woke up, and I guess that’s rather irrelevant now.”

“I would say so,” Karen chuckled.

Ignoring her comment, I continued, “Which I guess leads us to today.”

“Oh yes, it certainly does,” Karen responded, her sexual innuendo impossible to miss. “And your final submission as my slut,” she added narcissistically.

I paused, pondering how to even start the bizarre events that led to me in this submissive predicament, this humiliating, yet utterly enthralling submission.

“Yes,” I agreed, my shame burning so hot I thought I looked like I was on fire.

“Anyway, there was a knock on the door just before twelve. I was still in my robe, having a very lazy Sunday while I just sat around fretting nonstop about you, quite frankly. I opened the door and there was Karen in her usual cheerleading outfit. I told her you were out at the mall or something, but she said she was here to see me. I invited her in, unsure why she would come here just to see me.”

“But your cunt knew, didn’t it?” Karen vulgarly proclaimed.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so, honestly. It hadn’t hit me yet what your intentions were, although I guess it should have,” I admitted.

“So Karen came into my house and I offered her some iced tea. She accepted and I went into the kitchen to get some. Karen followed me in and sat down at the table. Once I’d poured the iced tea, I returned to the table with our two glasses and sat down.”

Karen pushed the toy fully into my cunt and demanded, “Close your legs, slut.” I obeyed. The buzzing toy immediately became a major distraction.

I continued telling the humiliating story to my daughter, although now I changed my narration style to tell the story with the dialogue as I remembered it.

I asked, “What can I do for you, Karen?”

Karen smiled, “I need some advice.”

“OK,” I replied, “What’s about?”

“Well, you may have guessed this already, but I’m a lesbian,” she revealed rather frankly.

I was slightly surprised by her secret, although in retrospect it made perfect sense and my first thought was to ask if she’d made my daughter one too, although I already knew the answer. “That’s ok my dear, this is 2010,” I comforted, knowing this was often a delicate situation.

“Oh, I know,” she responded, not looking all that worried, “It’s just that ... how do I tell my Mother? She’ll freak!”

“Hmmm,” I pondered, “I don’t know, but I’ve found that honesty is always the best approach, even if at first there may be a rough patch.”

“How would you respond if Jenny told you she was a lesbian?” Karen asked.

A week ago it would have shocked me to the core, but by this point I just assumed that she was one. The evidence was all there. “Well, I’d support her of course. I mean, being a woman in the world today is tough enough. Being a lesbian in a man’s world is even tougher. I would hate for her to be an outcast or ridiculed because of her sexual orientation. Her happiness is far more important to me than some label.” “So you would be ok with it?” Karen questioned.

“Yes, although I’d rather she be straight and eventually get married and have kids and all the other typical American family dream stuff,” I answered honestly, hoping my daughter was just curious and not actually gay.

“It’s 2010, Mrs. Wyatt, she can still get married and have kids even if she marries a wife instead of a husband,” Karen pointed out, using my own words against me.

“Oh, I know,” I agreed, but rationalized, “but it’s still particularly tough to live in today’s world as a gay couple unless you move to San Francisco.”

She shrugged before asking me a question I wasn’t remotely expecting, “Have you ever had a lesbian experience, Mrs. Wyatt?”

“My goodness, no,” I responded.

“Does the idea disgust you then?” Karen asked, sounding like I’d offended her.

“Oh, no, no, no, it’s not that,” I tried to recover, “It’s just that I grew up in a much more black-and-white time. You met a boy, got married, had kids and so forth. Being a lesbian back then almost made you a pariah, like being from the wrong side of the tracks.”

“So you’ve never thought another woman was attractive?”

“Oh sure, I mean of course I know when a woman is good-looking. I’ve often compared myself to other women, especially when I was married and I saw my hubby checking out the younger ones.”

“But you never were tempted to do anything with them?”

“No,” I answered honestly, wondering how this conversation had shifted from Karen’s coming out to my own non-lesbian lifestyle.

“Never?” she asked, her tone shifting in a way I can’t explain, but which implied she thought I was lying.

I too quickly responded, “No, never.”

At that moment, Karen spilt her half-full glass of iced tea onto her cheerleader’s top. “Oh shit,” she cursed, “I’m so clumsy. If this stains, coach will kill me. I’ve already wrecked one this year.”

At that moment, Karen spilt her half-full glass of iced tea onto her cheerleader’s top. “Oh shit,” she cursed, “I’m so clumsy. If this stains, coach will kill me. I’ve already wrecked one this year.”

Instantly leaping into Mother-crisis mode I ordered, “Here, hand it to me. I’ll throw it in the wash right away.”

She quickly obeyed and stunned me when I saw she wasn’t wearing a bra and her young, firm breasts were suddenly uncovered directly in front of me. I froze in a slight daze, staring at them. Karen asked, her tone innocent and sweet, “Is anything wrong, Mrs. Wyatt?”

Her words brought me back to reality and I stammered, pretending her firm naked breasts hadn’t had any effect on me, “N-n-n-n-no, nothing. I’ll just go and throw this in the wash.”

I began to leave, but Karen ordered me, “Stop! I got some on my skirt, too.” She slipped out of her skirt and was now wearing nothing but beige thigh high stockings and what appeared from the tiny pink triangle in front to be a thong. Not able to speak, I took the skirt and top and quickly rushed downstairs, my head a mess. While I tossed the clothes in my washing machine I tried to straighten out my head, not able to erase Karen’s almost naked body from my mind. I took a deep breath and chanted to myself over and over, ‘I am not a lesbian, I am not a lesbian, I am not... ‘ Finally reasonably confident in my self-control, I went back upstairs. Karen was still sitting at the kitchen table, still half-naked, still captivating.

“I’d better go get you a robe,” I managed, and fled upstairs to Jenny’s bedroom. I returned breathlessly and handed her the robe.

She stood up, “Can you please put it on for me, Amy?”

A strange request, but wanting her covered up as quickly as possible to derail the impact her nudity was having on me, I obliged. My hands shook slightly as I stood in such close proximity to this gorgeous and manipulative girl who was causing me to question my sexuality. She backed up to me as she reached her arms through the sleeves and once it was on, she turned around so we were eye to eye. She leaned in, I thought to kiss my lips, but instead she kissed my cheek. A tingle spread to my vag ... sorry, ‘cunt’, and I desperately tried to ignore it.

She excused herself to go to the washroom and I waited, the whole time running through ... I don’t know, song titles beginning with the letter ‘J’, anything to try and extinguish a fire that was getting hard to ignore. She came back a couple minutes later and placidly ... totally unlike me ... sat across from me, returning to our conversation as if it had never been interrupted. “So you have never ... ever ... thought about another girl sexually?”

“I didn’t say that,” I replied, attempting to make a joke about it.

“So, you have thought of a girl sexually?” she asked, her tone giving just a hint of flirtation.

“I imagine every woman has at some point,” I responded, attempting desperately to make it seem generic and not personal ... certainly not about her and me.

“Ya think?” she grinned, which confirmed to me that she was indeed flirting with me. While my head tried to resist the temptation, the fire in my belly was getting harder to ignore.

I shrugged, still desperately attempting to keep things casual, “Of course.”

I heard a thump under the table and Karen cursed, “Ouch, shit, I stubbed my toe again.”