Too Good To Be True
Copyright© 2004 by Amanda
Chapter 1
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A woman is duped by her new boyfriend and both she and her daughter will pay the price
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Fa/ft Consensual NonConsensual Coercion Blackmail Mind Control Hypnosis Drunk/Drugged Lesbian Fiction Incest Mother Daughter BDSM DomSub FemaleDom Humiliation Slow
It had been the biggest mistake in all of her 34 years of life Sharon knew. They had given her a week and that timeframe ended now. During those fateful 7 days she had phoned everyone, family, friends, mere acquaintances even the bank; who's manager had almost laughed her out of his office despite, or maybe because of her attempts to make it obvious she would 'do anything' to get the $150,000 she owed.
'How could I have been so stupid?' Sharon asked her self for the 150,000th time. Alright she was lonely and earning only just enough to get by after that pig of a husband had left her to bring up a child all on her own. A child who would not have been here had it not been for the second biggest mistake of her life nearly 17 years ago. So when a young attractive man had entered her life that evening as she worked as a croupier at the black jack table, she forgot that she was nearly old enough to be his mom. Sharon was, quite rightly, still very proud of her looks that regularly brought admiring glances but more and more only from men older rather than younger than herself.
Whilst at work her neighbours or even her own family could probably have played the table and not known that Sharon had been the dealer. Sharon left home for work every day in semi casual clothes, a flower print dress or a smart trouser suit, her long blonde hair worn loose and natural, then on arriving at the casino reported to the 'entertainment office'. Her shift was 8 hours although only 5 were spent actually on the tables or taking rest breaks, the 2 hours before were spent being 'prepared' as the job description termed it and the last hour the process was reversed.
The first day she had turned up for work and been told about the preparatory session she had almost told them where to stick their job, she had been a croupier for 10 years and was good with both the cards and the punters. Unfortunately the main casino in the town had 'had to let her go' on her 30th birthday. 'Company policy you see.' They had explained. She had tried waitressing but it just didn't bring in enough and so she had applied for a job at 'Malone's'. It was a last ditch attempt as the casino had a terrible reputation and had been closed several times but each time some palm had been greased and 2 days later they were open again for business.
Like all the other female employees, be they croupiers, dancers or cocktail waitresses, Sharon had been given a locker that contained a short white dressing gown. On arriving she undressed and put on the gown putting her day wear and personal belongings away, locking the door always seemed like Sharon was distancing herself from her true identity. From the locker room she walked down a dimly lit corridor that Sharon was certain had not been cleaned since the day the casino first opened and in to the 'entertainment department'. Here the dancers, croupiers and cocktail waitresses were 'dressed' for their work.
They almost operated a conveyer belt starting with a clean fresh faced woman they gradually converted her into an 'employee'. First Sharon reported to the makeup team, a group of old women who had obviously learnt their trade working in the now defunct vaudeville theatres. The panstick applied in a thick coat, her eyes outlined in black kohl, lids painted a solid purple. Her lips, full at the best of times, were heavily accentuated as if she would only be seen from 50 yards away under full spotlight. From the makeup team she moved to the hairdressers who back combed her hair mercilessly, piling and pinning it high before applying enough lacquer to stick an elephant to the floor.
With her hair and face completed she went to the costumer who obviously thought that all women were at least 2 sizes smaller than they actually were. Sharon had long since given up trying to tell her what size she was and now just accepted the clothes she was given. First a pair of black seamed hold-up stockings, the tops of which came only a few inches above the knee. Then a suspender belt with extra long straps, 'just for effect'. The skirt would have been tight and short on a woman half her size, on Sharon it barely covered her small black panties, the straps of her suspenders highly visible through the tight black leather. Sharon had nearly quit when she'd first been given the blouse, it was white and semi transparent with a large scalloped edge collar and the first button level with her nipples that could easily be seen through the material. The outfit was 'topped off' with a check waistcoat, that had just enough fabric at the front for one button, the effect of which was to push the wearers breasts up and out, rather like a caricature of a Bavarian peasant girl. What Sharon hated most though were the 5 inch high stiletto sandals, fine to be shagged in no doubt but totally impractical for a girl who spent most of her time standing up dealing cards. It could have been worse, Sharon continually told herself, she could have been a cocktail waitress in their black basque and panties with a very short fantail skirt that was split up the front. Their legs which terminated in black button up ankle boots were encased in fishnet stockings, the long suspender straps originating from the bottom of their basques. At least most of the time Sharon had a table between her and the drunken scum who, presumably having been thrown out of a decent casino, ended up at hers.
So why had she gone out with him? because for one thing he was young and handsome, he wasn't drunk and he didn't talk to her breasts. She'd semi reluctantly agreed to him buying her a drink during her last break and then he'd asked her to go for a meal after her shift finished. Sharon had explained that she needed to sign out and that could take up to an hour. She didn't tell him about having to wash her hair at least three times to get out the lacquer or the amount of cleanser that would be needed to remove the pancake allowing her skin to breath once more. He said he didn't mind and would wait for her in the lot out back.
Like a school girl with a crush Sharon had gotten changed in record time and just for once put on some of her own makeup before slipping on her thin sun dress and walking out into the balmy night air.
To read this story you need a
Registration + Premier Membership
If you have an account, then please Log In
or Register (Why register?)