The Power Over His Best Friend's MoM. free porn video

WARNING

This novel covers a wide range of explicit sexual practices, so if you are offended, in any way, by stories with strong sexual content that you may consider abhorrent were it practiced in real life, please cease reading now and delete the file.

LEGAL STUFF

This story was Copyrighted by the author, who retains all rights whatsoever over publication in any form. It must not be published on any pay-site or used in any publication for profit, without the author's written approval. The file may be reposted to Newsgroups, but must not be changed in any way, must be posted in its entirety and must contain this note "FROM THE AUTHOR" in full.

GENERAL All names are fictitious and do not intentionally relate to any person, either living or dead. All comments and constructive suggestions may be directed to me via the COMMENT tab on my profile.

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"See you, Mom. I'm heading out to the mall with Carol and Joan," Stacey hollered as she headed for the back door. "Oh hey, Greg. I didn't hear you come in. Got anything planned for today?" Stacey asked as she entered the kitchen.

"Nah. Just dropped in for some breakfast. Probably head over to the basketball courts this afternoon to shoot some hoops," replied Greg with a grin.

"Alright. I'll see you later. Have fun." Stacey waved goodbye as she ran out the door.

It was the first week of summer vacation. Stacey and Greg had just finished grade 11 and were looking forward to a relaxing summer before starting grade 12. They had known each other their entire lives, and, until the last few years, had been best of friends. They were still close, but over time had begun to drift slowly apart as their interests, and friends, took them in different directions. It hadn't always been that way.

Stacey Clark was an only c***d and lived with her mother. She never knew her father, since he had passed away when she was only 1 year old. Around that time, Greg Adams and his family had moved in next door. Since Greg was only a year older than Stacey, they became instant friends. They did everything together, including going to the same school. However, when Greg was 10 years old, his parents fell on hard times and were forced to sell the house, and move to another part of town. Greg and Stacey's friendship continued, but as they entered puberty, things began to slowly change. Through that period, Stacey developed into a beautiful woman. Though she only stood 5'3" tall and weighed 115lbs, she proportionately was well built. She had wavy shoulder length auburn hair with dark almond coloured eyes. Her high cheekbones and cute little nose topped with a few freckles gave her that 'girl next door' innocent appearance. Apart from her height, her measurements were those of a model. She had perfectly shaped breasts which fit neatly into a 'B' cup bra followed by a slender firm waist and perfectly rounded ass, held up by a pair of slender shapely legs. All in all, she was a gorgeous package.

Greg developed as well, but not nearly as pronounced as Stacey. He grew to 5'11" tall and weighed 175lbs. He had short dirty blond hair, brown eyes and average facial features. His body was toned, but not overly muscular. The best thing you could say about him was that he was average. Not overly good at any one thing.

As they came into puberty, Greg's feelings for Stacey began to change. He took notice of the beautiful woman she was becoming, and developed strong feelings for her. He was too shy, though, to let her know how he was feeling, and so continued to watch her from the sidelines, as they slowly drifted apart. His feelings for her became an obsession, as the years passed and the distance continued to grow. They were still good friends and saw each other practically every day, but it became more and more difficult for Greg, as he watched her date other boys. Stacey's mom was like a second mom for Greg, and she welcomed him in their home anytime. He would often just walk in, sit down at the kitchen table, and her mom would make him some something to eat. He was like another member of the family. Mrs. Clark didn't mind, since she knew Greg's parents were still having financial and marital difficulties. So Greg would look for every opportunity to get out of the house, and away from that situation.

Greg's obsession with Stacey took a dark turn, as he began to conspire for ways to get information on her, and, hopefully, get her to notice and start taking an interest in him. He devised a plan which, he hoped, would give him some form of leverage to use against her. Two days ago, while hanging out at the Clark residence, watching some TV, he put this plan into action. He slipped onto their computer, while Stacey was out with some friends, and Mrs. Clark was in the kitchen cooking supper. Greg quickly installed the invisible 'key logger' program he had brought with him on a memory stick. The program was designed to silently log all keystrokes made by the user, and would also take periodic screen shots and then e-mail the entire package, every 5 minutes, to his e-mail address. All of this would happen in the background, without the user ever being aware.

The first night was rather unremarkable, and mostly involved Stacey talking with her girlfriends, on MSN Messenger, about their plans for the upcoming weekend, but the next night something happened, which was so unexpected and unbelievable, that it set in motion an event which went way beyond anything Greg had ever imagined possible. After eating supper at the Clark's again, Greg indicated that he was not feeling well and was going to go home and head to bed early. He of course ran home and quickly logged onto his computer expecting Stacey to get on again and begin talking with her friends. However, unbeknownst to him, Stacey had got a last minute call from one of her girlfriends asking if she wanted to come over for the night to watch a couple of movies with the girls.

After about a half hour had passed, Greg's account began to receive e-mails from the key logger program. As he began to read through the first e-mail, Greg was beside himself with excitement. The e-mail showed that Stacey was Googling pornographic websites - specifically sites which catalogued and stored sex stories. As he checked the screenshots and the text which was being typed into the search bar, he found that she was looking for stories which dealt with S&M, dominance and submission, bondage and humiliation. The next e-mail had a screenshot of the story that she was apparently reading, since the next several e-mails all had screenshots of the same story, just pages later. Greg hastily typed in the website information and quickly navigated to the story in question. The story was entitled "My Pet Teacher" and was about a young female teacher who got blackmailed into submission by one of her grade 12 students. The story described numerous sexual acts which were designed to punish and humiliate the teacher. The story was hot and was a tremendous turn-on for Greg. He had never really considered going that far, but the thought of it intrigued him.

As the e-mails continued to come in Greg saw that Stacey had moved on to another story called "The Making of an Office Slut" which dealt with a female office executive, who was also blackmailed into submission by her secretary and was forced into performing various sexually degrading, painful, and humiliating acts. As he read through the second story, Greg couldn't help but begin to masturbate as he imagined Stacey doing the same thing as she read through the story.

After having an explosive orgasm into one of his discarded sweat socks, Greg saw that Stacey had moved on and was now Googling sites which had free sex pictures for viewing. Many of the photos showed women, in various states of bondage, being clamped, whipped, spanked, or cum on. Other pictures showed women on their knees gagging on massive cocks, which filled their mouths and throats, all eventually getting cum facials. Yet others had women getting gang banged by numerous men, filling all of their orifices at once.

Greg was floored. He had never expected this!!! On a whim, Greg grabbed the phone and dialed Stacey's number, hoping to catch her in an awkward moment.

"Hello."

"Oh hi, Mrs. C. Can I talk with Stacey please?" Greg asked Mrs. Clark.

"No, I'm sorry. Greg, but soon after you left, Stacey got a call from Carol asking if she wanted to come over and watch some movies. She left soon after you did," Mrs. Clark replied.

After a moment's pause, Greg asked, "So, you're the only one home right now?"

"Yes, that's right. It's just been me this evening. Was there something I can help you with Greg?" Mrs. Clark asked politely.

"Umm.....no that's fine Mrs. C. I'll talk to Stacey tomorrow," Greg quickly replied.

"Alright then, good night, Greg."

"Goodnight, Mrs. C." Greg slowly hung up the phone and continued to stare at the receiver for several minutes. This was a curve ball he certainly hadn't expected.

For the first time, Greg began to think about Mrs. Clark in a very different way. He had never really noticed before but she was really just an older version of Stacey. She had gotten pregnant with Stacey just after her 16th birthday, so that meant she was only 34 years old right now. 'Not really that old at all,' he thought to himself. Strange he had never noticed before. She was a couple of inches taller than Stacey, but from what he could see through the slightly baggy clothing she always wore, her figure was very similar to Stacey's. She had slightly longer, straighter and darker colored hair than Stacey, but had the exact same eyes and facial features.

Reading through the stories again, a plan began to take shape in Greg's mind. If he couldn't have Stacey, maybe he could have her mother instead.

The next morning, Greg got up early and headed over to the Clark's. He let himself in, as he always did, and sat at the kitchen table reading the paper. He had a hard time focusing on the words on the page and found his mind constantly wandering back to the plan he had formulated last night. When Stacey walked into the kitchen, hollering to her mother that she was heading out to the mall with her friends, Greg hardly noticed her, he was so deep in thought.

When she asked him a question, he found he had to struggle to focus on her and come up with an answer. He managed to blurt out something about going to shoot hoops, and was actually glad when she left it at that and ran out the door with a quick wave. Now he was home alone with her mom and could start to put his plan into action.

He continued to sit at the table and pretend to read the paper until he heard Mrs. Clark enter.

"Oh, hi, Greg."

"Hi, Mrs. C. Did you have a good night last night?" Greg asked very pointedly, staring intently at her. She was wearing another one of her bland, baggy sweaters and a pair of unflattering pants. Greg realized that in the entire time he had known her, he could never recall seeing her in anything else.

Looking at Greg with an odd expression on her face, she hesitantly replied, "Umm....yes I did, thank you."

After a pause, "would you like some breakfast, Greg?"

"Yes, that would be fine, Mrs. C," Greg replied, still looking intently at her.

As she turned and busied herself at the stove, Greg gathered his thoughts and tried to muster the courage to proceed with his plan, praying a silent prayer that it would work. When a few minutes had passed, he reached out and intentionally knocked over his glass of milk spilling it onto the floor by his feet.

Hearing the accident, Mrs. Clark spun around to see what had happened. Seeing that it was just a bit of spilt milk, she began to walk towards the closet to retrieve the mop.

"No, Mrs. C., don't use that. Use this," Greg quickly replied holding up a dish towel he had conveniently placed on the table next to the milk.

Without even thinking about it, Mrs. Clark changed directions and walked over to the table to take the cloth from Greg's outstretched hands. If she hadn't had such a sleepless night last night, because her thoughts had been plagued with images from the stories and pictures, she probably would have thought it odd that Greg didn't clean up the mess himself.

She dropped the cloth on the spilt milk and was going to use her foot to move it around, but Greg spoke up again. "No, Mrs. C. You should get down on your hands and knees to clean it up. It's the only way to make sure you do a good job," he said with a touch of authority in his voice.

Responding as if she was in a fog, Mrs. Clark slowly dropped to her knees at Greg's feet and began to, hesitantly, clean up the mess. Greg felt energized, having Stacey's mom kneeling at his feet cleaning up after him. He knew he had to proceed carefully from here or else he would risk blowing it all.

As she continued to work, Greg began in a conversational tone of voice, "you know Mrs. C., I was reading somewhere that a proper and decent woman wears a blouse and a skirt. You are a proper and decent woman aren't you, Mrs. C.?" Greg asked, again staring at her intently.

Sensing his intent gaze, and confused about the strange feelings running rampant through her, as she knelt at his feet, Mrs. Clark began to color slightly at the cheeks and could not look him in the eyes. Her thoughts were jumbled and she had a difficult time formulating a response. When she realized he expected her to answer, she finally managed to mumble, "Yes.......I guess so."

Sensing her confusion and weakness, Greg pressed the attack. "Well, if you are indeed a 'proper and decent woman', then shouldn't you also dress in that fashion?" he asked.

Head still bowed and turning a deeper red, Mrs. Clark stuttered, "well....I.....it's just......I.......I guess so."

"Well alright then. It's settled. Next time I see you, you should be dressed that way," Greg replied amicably, sensing a win. "I think you got it all cleaned up now Mrs. C. You can get up now."

Flushed deep red, Mrs. Clark rose on unsteady legs and walked back over to the stove, to continue cooking breakfast. For the rest of the meal, Greg acted as if nothing had happened and talked about various topics like school, sports, and local events.

Once he had finished eating, he informed Mrs. Clark, "I'm going to head out to the school to shoot some hoops, but would like to drop by for supper, if that's alright with you?"

Having regained some of her composure, and feeling more at ease with the rest of the conversation she had with Greg, she readily replied, "certainly Greg. You know you are always welcome here."

"Thanks, Mrs. C. I gotta go now." Greg waved goodbye as he headed for the back door. As he stepped outside he took a deep breath to steady himself and prayed that the suggestion he had planted in her would take root and come to fruition later on.

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It was late in the afternoon and nearing suppertime, when Greg finally decided to head back for supper. He had sort of wandered aimlessly for most of the day, trying to waste as much time as he could, shooting hoops, hanging out at the mall, and heading down to the skate park, prior to heading back to the Clark's.

As he walked up the back steps, Greg's stomach was roiling with anxiety and fear, since he did not know what he was going to find when he walked into the house. The first thing he noticed was the smell of supper cooking in the oven. That was certainly a good sign. As he entered the kitchen he saw Mrs. Clark standing over the stove, stirring something in a pot. She was wearing a black skirt with a white blouse!!!

Greg was ecstatic. His suggestion to Mrs. Clark, this morning, had sunk in and she had complied. He could now see her figure much more clearly. It looked even better than he had imagined. Like Stacey, she had nice thin shapely legs and a beautifully curved ass. Her breasts were slightly larger than Stacey's, but looked just as firm. Greg could feel his cock beginning to stir in his pants as he imagined Mrs. Clark standing naked in front of him.

Since her back was to the door, Mrs. Clark had not heard Greg enter. After looking her up and down several more times, Greg cleared his throat and said nonchalantly, "hi Mrs. C."

Turning her head, Mrs. Clark smiled and replied, "Oh, hi Greg. You're just in time. Supper will be ready in 15 minutes. Stacey is just upstairs getting changed, if you want to have a seat for a few minutes."

As Greg sat at the table, he could see that it had already been set, and, fortunately, the milk was already on the table. Taking a deep breath, Greg filled his glass up and then casually knocked it over, once again spilling its contents onto the floor at his feet. "Oh my, I'm sorry Mrs. C, I did it again," he said with a wistful smile.

"Oh, that's alright Greg." She began to head toward the closet again, but then suddenly remembered the events of the morning, and abruptly turned around, grabbed the dishcloth from the handle of the stove, and walked over to the table. Slowly sinking to her knees, Mrs. Clark began to clean up the mess in the manner which she had been instructed this morning.

With a smile, Greg pulled out his digital camera and quickly, without her noticing, snapped off a shot of her kneeling at his feet cleaning up the mess. From his vantage point, he could see a hint of flesh through the opening of her shirt. He could see Mrs. Clark was uncomfortable and was having a difficult time meeting his gaze.

"You know, Mrs. C, a decent and proper woman would not have so many buttons on her shirt done up. I think it best if you undo the top one," suggested Greg.

"Well......I.......don't think that's........" she stammered.

Cutting her off before she get any further in her protestations, Greg demanded "now Mrs. C. You do want to be a good role model for your daughter, don't you? You want to set a good example, right?"

"Well.......yes.......I suppose," she murmured, feeling a fog settle over her. A combination of the lack of sleep, and confusion over the strange feelings coursing through her body created confusion and uncertainty in her.

"Well, then quit arguing about it. If you delay any longer, then Stacey will be here and it will have to be 2 buttons undone," Greg replied authoritatively. He could sense her will breaking as she looked down at her shirt, and then, with shaking hands and red face, began to fumble with the top button of her blouse. Since she was distracted looking down at her button, Greg quickly snapped off another picture with his camera.

Once it was undone, Greg could see the cleft between the mounds of her breasts and the white lacy bra she was wearing much more clearly.

'There you go, Mrs. C. I think you got it all cleaned up. Thanks," he said quickly stashing the camera back into his front shirt pocket.

Again, with shaking legs, Mrs. Clark rose and went back to the stove to continue cooking the supper. Greg was very pleased with himself, since things were going exactly as he had planned. He couldn't believe his good fortune. In his mind, he had imagined everything going wrong, at every step, and never being able to reach the prize, at the end of the tunnel, but, now, it was almost within reach.

Almost as if on cue, Stacey walked into the kitchen moments later, bringing with her a magical scent of perfume and flowers. With a big smile she said "Hi Greg. Good to see you again. How was your day?"

"Oh, it's been pretty good. It's nice just to relax and not worry about school and stuff. How was yours?" he asked.

"Awesome. The mall was packed and there was a truckload of sales going on," she replied enthusiastically.

"Stacey, honey, supper will be ready in 10 minutes," Mrs. Clark interjected.
"Oh, I'm sorry mom. I'm heading to the early show with Carol and Joan. I gotta run. I hope you don't mind?" she asked.

"Uh.....no I suppose that's OK. Make sure you grab something to eat there then. Don't just fill up on popcorn, alright?" she admonished.

"OK, mom," she replied sheepishly.

"See ya, Greg," she hollered as she ran out the door.

"Well, I guess it's just going to be you and me for supper, Greg," Mrs. Clark announced.

"I guess so." Putting a serious look on his face, Greg pressed on with the plan. "You know, Mrs. C., you really didn't set a good example for your daughter this evening. You knew the right thing to do, yet you procrastinated and stalled in doing it. Was this how you want your daughter to act, Mrs. C?" Greg demanded.

"Well........no. Of course not, Greg." she replied.

"Then, you do realize that there are going to be consequences for your inappropriate behavior?"

"But.....I.......it's just......." she stammered.

"Now stop, Mrs. C," Greg hollered, slamming his hand down on the table with a resounding crack, startling her into silence. "I think you've dug a deep enough hole for yourself. You don't want to make it any worse by continuing to argue. What would your daughter think if she could see you now, arguing like this," he said disdainfully.

Completely awash in confusion, Mrs. Clark bowed her head in defeat and muttered, "I'm sorry."

"As you should be Mrs. C., now as a consequence of your actions you are going to march into that bathroom," pointing to the one just off the kitchen, "and remove your bra and panties. You will then march back out here and hand them to me. Is that clear?" Greg demanded, raising his voice again for emphasis and to hopefully keep her off balance.

"But.....I......didn't mean to," she pleaded. Her thoughts were a jumbled mass of confusion. She didn't know what was happening anymore, or what to think, but her body seemed to have a mind of its own, and started responding without her even realizing it.

The next thing she knew, she was in the bathroom and had already removed her bra and was in the process of pulling down her panties. As she stepped out of them, she got a whiff of something and realized, with a shock, that it was the smell of her arousal. Looking at her panties, she could see the crotch was damp with her secretions.

"What's happening to me?" she asked herself. She couldn't come to grips with the feelings coursing through her and stimulating her private areas. Not only was her vagina dripping wet, but her nipples were rock hard, as they pressed against the thin fabric of the blouse. With a face as red as a beet, Mrs. Clark opened the door to the bathroom and hesitantly walked over to Greg. Without making eye contact, she dropped her bra and panties into his outstretched hand.

Greg casually placed the bundle of undergarments on the table beside his plate, where they both could see them. He hoped it would help to keep Mrs. Clark off balance, since the most daring part of his plan came next. He looked at Mrs. Clark and liked what he saw. He could clearly see the outline of Mrs. Clark's nipples, as they pressed against her blouse, and it only served to accentuate her breasts even more. He could feel his cock getting harder and harder, just looking at her.

"Now, Mrs. C., it's not that I don't trust you, you understand. But I would be remiss if I didn't, at least, confirm that you did as you were asked. It's not as if you've been well behaved to this point," Greg scolded.

Like a c***d, Mrs. Clark responded, "I'm sorry, Greg. I didn't mean to....I tried....."

"I know you did, Mrs. C., but I have to make sure you're telling me the truth. I need to know that you're serious about being a good role model for your daughter. You could have just given me an old pair of underwear you had lying around in the bathroom."

Mrs. Clark just hung her head in defeat. She didn't know if she could resist the urges in her body, even if she wanted to.

"Mrs. C., you WILL undo the buttons on your blouse and pull the material apart, so that I can confirm this for myself," Greg directed sternly. He held his breath in excited anticipation.

With only the slightest of hesitations, her body screaming for release, Mrs. Clark began to undo the remaining buttons of her blouse. Her face was still a deep red, and the blush was now making its way down her neck and onto her shoulders. Her head hung low as she found it completely impossible to look up and make any sort of eye contact with Greg. When at last she had them all undone, and with obviously shaking hands, she slowly pulled the material apart until both globes were completely visible to Greg.

"Very good, Mrs. C., we're almost done. Leave your shirt like that. Now, with both hands, you WILL grasp the sides of your skirt and slowly pull it up to your waist. That way, I will be able to confirm that you have done the right thing," Greg coaxed.

Not thinking it was possible, Mrs. Clark turned an even darker red as she began to plead, "please?" hoping to change Greg's mind.

"Just close your eyes, Mrs. C., and pretend I'm not even here. It'll be over before you even know it," he continued to coax.

Screwing her eyes tightly closed, Mrs. Clark left her shirt hanging open and reached down, grasping both sides of her skirt in each hand. As if her body had a mind of its own, she began to slowly pull the hem of her skirt up. Her juices were now flowing freely and small rivulets ran down the inside of her legs. She was sure that Greg would be able to see and smell her arousal now. She knew, deep down, she shouldn't be doing this, but she was so confused, and at a loss to explain what was happening to her. Her mind kept flashing back to the events in the stories she had read last night. She felt as if it was all just a dream, and that she would wake up soon and everything would be as it should.

While she was slowly pulling up her skirt, Greg grabbed his camera and began snapping pictures as she humiliated herself in front of him. As the hem continued to rise, her pussy mound finally came into sight. Greg could see that her hair color was natural as the pubes of her pussy were also dirty blond in color.

When she finally had the skirt completely bunched around her waist, Greg ordered, "now turn around slowly so that I can confirm you're not wearing anything."

With her breasts hanging out, nipples as hard as rock, and her pussy and ass clearly on display, she slowly rotated in the middle of the kitchen floor. Her eyes were still screwed tightly shut, making it very easy for Greg to continue to photograph her without her knowledge. As her ass came into view, Greg was absolutely beside himself with excitement. He was rock hard and was stunned by how beautiful her ass was. It was simply perfection. He couldn't wait to get into it.

When she had turned completely around, and was once again facing him, Greg put his camera away and directed her to stop. "You can lower your skirt now Mrs. C, but keep your blouse the way it was." Standing up, he walked over to where Mrs. Clark stood, and, towering over her, said "To be a good role model for your daughter, you need to realize that there are consequences for your actions. If you had simply done what was right in the very beginning, then none of this would have been necessary," he chided her, like a father to a c***d, mimicking the manner found in the sex stories from last night. "Because of what you've done, you've caused me to suffer some intense discomfort," gesturing to his own crotch region and the obvious hard-on he had. With firm pressure on her shoulders, he ordered "get on your knees, Mrs. C. You are going to make this situation all better, so that we can put it all behind us, and get on with supper."

When she was finally on her knees, she found herself staring into the crotch of his pants and wondering how she got there. She was no longer in control of herself and was convinced that it was all just a dream.

Reaching into his pants, Greg pulled out his cock, and held it in front of him. He couldn't remember ever being this hard and turned on before, and knew that it would take very little to cum now. Continuing with his instructions, he directed Mrs. Clark "Take your right hand and begin stroking it, until you have relieved the problem which you created. Keep your eyes closed, Mrs. C., it'll make it easier for you," he coaxed.

Closing her eyes, Mrs. Clark reached out and grasping his cock with her right hand, began to stroke the shaft. Greg quickly pulled out his camera and snapped some more money shots of Mrs. Clark kneeling at his feet, breasts hanging out and stroking his cock. Greg knew that he had everything he would need now, to ensure that Mrs. Clark belonged to him and would do exactly as he ordered.

Putting the camera away, Greg felt his orgasm building in his balls and knew that he would explode very soon. Before he did, Greg instructed Mrs. Clark, "I'm going to have relief soon Mrs. C., so I want you to point it at your breasts when I do. Make sure every drop lands on them. Is that clear?" he sternly asked.

Simply nodding her head, Mrs. Clark began to speed up her strokes, and lowered the tip of his cock until it was pointing directly at her breasts. With a gurgled yell, Greg's orgasm exploded out of him, and spurt after spurt of semen shot out and splashed all over her breasts, with some running down the crevice between them.

When at last she had milked the last drop of cum from him, she just stared intently at the white mass of fluid covering her breasts. It felt so real, but she knew it couldn't be, and that it must all be just a dream. She was so tired.

Seeing her lost in thought, staring at her breasts and his sticky load, Greg quickly grabbed his camera and snapped one more picture, of her cum covered breasts. After he had the camera safely tucked away, and his cock back in his pants, he ordered "Mrs. C., I want you rub the nice cream into your skin now. It's good for the skin," he said with a smile on his face.

As if she was on auto-pilot, she took a breast in each hand and began massaging his cum into them. When the last drop had been massaged in, her breasts glistened and her nipples were red and engorged from the attention to them. The kitchen, and now Mrs. Clark, reeked of sex.

Stepping back and taking a seat again, Greg instructed Mrs. Clark, "You can do your shirt up now, Mrs. C. I believe you. You've done very well today and have been a very good role model for your daughter." As she finished buttoning her blouse and began to stand up again, Greg added "Oh, Mrs. C., I want you to leave that cream in until tomorrow morning. You are not to wash it off until then. Is that clear?"

Eyes glazed, mind in a complete fog, and her body numb from the stimulus overload, Mrs. Clark simply nodded her head yes and went over to the stove, to remove the supper from the oven.

For the rest of the meal, Greg again pretended that nothing unusual had happened and talked about inconsequential topics. When he was done eating, Greg excused himself and said that he had to head home, but that he would be back tomorrow morning. And without further ado, Greg ran out the back door and practically sprinted home.

Greg spent the rest of the evening looking over the pictures he had printed off, and reading more of the stories on the site Mrs. Clark had originally visited. The more he read, the more ideas he got for things to do with Mrs. Clark. He ended up masturbating several more times that evening, each time ending with an explosive climax.

The next morning, after having a restless sleep, Greg arose, showered and headed back over to the Clark residence. Armed with the photos from last night, and copies of the stories she had read, Greg had everything he would need, to own Mrs. Clark.

As he walked in the back door of the home, he found Mrs. Clark already in the kitchen cooking eggs. She was dressed in an old frumpy sweater and slacks again. From that, Greg knew that she must have come to her senses, either sometime last night or this morning and was probably preparing for a confrontation. With a smile, Greg thought to himself, 'bring it on!'

"Hi Mrs. C., how was your night last night?" he asked in a jovial tone.

Blushing a deep red, but keeping her back to him, Mrs. Clark began, "Look, Greg, I think we need to talk. Since Stacey is still sleeping, this is probably the best time for it." Taking a deep breath she continued, "I don't know how it happened last night, I must not have been feeling well or something, but what DID happen was wrong. It should never have happened. It's my fault, but I think it would be best if we tried to put it behind us and pretend it never happened," she reasoned.

"Well, I'm sorry you think that Mrs. C, but to be quite honest, I don't give a shit!" he said with emphasis.

"What? I beg your pardon?" Mrs. Clark asked.

"Well, you see, Anne," stressing her first name, "it's like this. I own you, and the shit I have, here in my hand, guarantees that," holding up the stories and photos.

With a worried look spreading over her face, "What do you mean?"

"Do these stories look familiar, Anne?" Greg asked throwing the copies down on the table in front of her.

With trembling hands, she picked them up, and after scanning the first page, blanched white as a ghost. "How? Where did you get these? What the hell is going on?" She asked with a tremble in her voice.

"I thought I was already quite clear on this matter. Are you stupid, too?" he asked condescendingly.

Grasping at straws she began, "These stories don't mean anything...You can't prove anything."

"Oh, I beg to differ. These photos I think will tell quite a different story." Throwing one picture down at a time he began asking, "Does this look familiar? How about this one? What about this one where you're showing me your tits and cunt? Or this one, where you are kneeling at my feet, stroking my cock? I think these pictures will certainly corroborate what I am saying?" Letting it sink in for a minute, Greg then moved in for the kill. "What do you think your daughter will do when she finds out what you've done? Or how about the pastor at church, the principal at Stacey's school, her teachers, your parents? Hmm? You think they'll understand?"

"Oh my God. How did you...when...why are you doing this?" she asked with a plaintive whine as panic began to set in. "Is it money you want?"

"Again, I've already told you what I want. You. I own you. You belong to me. You will do exactly what I tell you to do, without argument, or there will be severe consequences. Is any of this sinking in Anne?" he asked.

"But why....?" she began again. She was terrified at what she was hearing, but also becoming very aroused on a purely physical level.

"Enough with the stupid questions already," Greg interjected. "I think it's pretty clear, from the stories you've been reading and the pictures you've been looking at, as well as how easily you were controlled last night, that this is something you need or perhaps even crave. I'm just happy to satisfy that craving for you. Now, I've already covered this. Either you do EXACTLY what I say, or I start sending these pictures to everyone in this town, including your daughter. The choice is yours. What's it going to be Anne?" Greg demanded.

"Please, nobody must know. This will destroy my daughter."

"Very well. But understand this. If at any time you decide to cancel our agreement, then this all becomes public knowledge. I will not tolerate any disobedience from you. If you disobey me or argue with me over any order given, then you will be punished - just like in the stories. Is that clear?"

Hanging her head in defeat, Mrs. Clark uttered a very quiet "yes." Despite the obvious wrongness of it all, she couldn't stop her body from responding to the situation and becoming more and more aroused with each passing minute.

"Now, on to the first order of business. Since you've seen fit to disobey me, by wearing those clothes and by arguing with me, you are now going to be punished," Greg explained.

"But I didn't......you never said....." Mrs. Clark began to stammer.

"Shut up! I don't want to hear excuses, Anne. Or shall I add another punishment to the list for arguing with me now?" Greg pressed.

"No please, I'll do as you say," Mrs. Clark pleaded.

"Then take off those offending clothes now," Greg ordered. From the shocked look on her face, Greg figured she was preparing for another round or arguments, but to his surprise, she simply closed her mouth, hung her head in shame and began undressing in front of him.

When she had removed her pants and sweater, Greg took them from her and ordered, "The bra and panties too, Anne." Again, it looked as if Mrs. Clark was going to argue, but then thought better of it, and did as she was told.

Once she stood completely naked in front of Greg, he began to explain to her what he wanted her to do next. "You are now going to march upstairs to your bedroom dressed just the way you are."

"But Stacey might wake..." she began to whine.

Cutting her off once again, "then you'd better walk quietly, hadn't you?" Greg replied condescendingly.

Continuing, "On the way to your room, you will knock on Stacey's door telling her it's time to wake up. Once you are in your room, you will head to the bathroom and will shave off all of the hair on your pussy. Are you getting this so far, Anne?" Greg asked.

Nodding her head, "yes."

"Good. Once your pussy is shaved clean, you will then dress in the shortest and tightest skirt you own and the tightest most see-through blouse you own. Got it?"

Another nod of her head.

"Then get moving," Greg ordered.

On wobbly legs, Mrs. Clark scurried out of the kitchen and began to tiptoe upstairs. Excuses began to run through her head, as she tried to come up with one that would make sense, were Stacey to come out of her room now and see her mother standing naked in front of her. Thankfully, Stacey was still asleep, and did not wake until Mrs. Clark had knocked several times upon the door. When she heard Stacey groggily respond, Mrs. Clark informed her it was time to get up and then sprinted the remainder of the way to her own bedroom, shutting the door as quickly as she could.

She stood with her back to the door for several seconds, as she tried to catch her breath and make sense of what was happening to her. Outwardly she knew what was happening was wrong, and for the life of her, she couldn't understand why she was complying. She knew she should be resisting. It felt like something inside of her was twisting her guts inside out. Locking the door, she walked unsteadily to her bathroom, grabbed her razor and cream, and, sitting upon the toilet, prepared to shave her pubic hair. It was with a start that she noticed her pussy beginning to dampen. Her mere touch was enough to send electrical shocks shooting through her pussy. This only added to the confusing emotions running amok within her. With a dizzy head, she applied the cream and began shaving her nether region, as delicately as she could.

As she made her final pass along the side of one of her pussy lips, she noted that her pussy was now soaking wet from her ministrations. The urge to masturbate was nearly overpowering, but something deep inside her told her to resist the urge, and with shaky resolve, she closed her legs and rose to get dressed.

As she stood in front of her closet, she contemplated the orders Greg had given her. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to put on panties and a bra, or just the blouse and skirt. Things were still a bit foggy for her. As she mulled this over, she had another shock, when she realized that she began to ask herself, 'what would please Greg?' to help her make her decision.
Shaking her head and more confused than ever, she reached for her skirt and blouse and put them on, without any underwear. She felt so naughty standing there looking at herself in the mirror, knowing her pussy was bare underneath the skirt and seeing the faint outline of her semi-erect nipples poking through the blouse. 'What would Stacey think if she knew?' Mrs. Clark asked herself. Slipping on a pair of matching heels, Mrs. Clark hurried out of the bedroom, not wanting to take too long and risk upsetting Greg any more.

Once downstairs again, she peered nervously around the corner and saw that Greg and Stacey were both seated at the kitchen table, eating bowls of cereal and having an amiable conversation. Taking a deep breath, she walked into the kitchen, kissed her daughter on the head and then quickly headed to the stove; ostensibly to offer to make breakfast for anyone, should they wish it. In reality she really just wanted to hide the fact that her nipples were prominently poking through her blouse and her face was red with embarrassment. When Stacey and Greg indicated that they did not want anything made for breakfast, she busied herself making some eggs and toast for herself.

While Mrs. Clark was working at the stove, Stacey informed her, "I'm heading to the beach today with Carol and Joan. I'll probably be back around 5pm." Dropping her dirty bowl into the sink, Stacey gave her mom a kiss on the cheek, grabbed her day bag and towel, and rushed out the door.

Once Greg heard the car pull out of the driveway, he cleared his throat and then began giving Mrs. Clark directions. "All right, Anne, turn around and walk over here," pointing to the floor in the middle of the kitchen. On wobbly legs, Anne shuffled over to the spot indicated, head bent low, unable to make eye contact.

"Now remove all of your clothing, Anne," Greg ordered. Blushing furiously, Anne reached up, and, with horribly shaking hands, began to undo the buttons of her blouse. When the last one was undone, she hesitated for a moment, but with a sigh of resignation, her shoulders slumping in defeat, she shrugged the blouse off of her shoulders, and let if fall to the floor. Her naked breasts, with nipples now as hard as rocks, stood prominently on display for her tormentor to see. As humiliated as she was, the weird, twisting feeling in the pit of her stomach wouldn't go away. It just seemed to push her on, force her to comply with his demands. Reaching behind her, she unzipped her skirt, and again, with the slightest of hesitations, she began to shimmy the skirt down her hips. When the newly shaven lips of her vagina came into view, Anne blushed an even deeper color red, which spread down her neck onto the tops of her shoulders. Once the skirt was past her thighs, Anne let gravity do the rest and let it fall about her feet. Stepping to the side with one foot, she used the other to lightly kick the skirt away from her.

Here she stood, completely naked, before her 18 year old tormentor, save for a pair of fuck-me heels. With great effort, Anne fought the urge to cover her newly shaved pussy, but instead kept her hands firmly at her side. Sensing Greg's eyes upon her, she could not bear to look up and meet them. She could only bite her lip and hover in that emotional space somewhere between excitement and crying, as she nervously awaited his next move.

She heard his chair sc**** across the floor, as he pushed it back and rose to his feet. The weird twisting feeling in her stomach began to increase as she waited nervously for his next move. Mrs. Clark couldn't bear to raise her head and look at Greg, so she resigned herself to looking at his feet and following their movement.

Had she taken a moment to look up, she would have seen the enormous, shit-eating grin plastered across Greg's face. He looked like a k** in a candy store who had just been told he could have anything he wanted, and as much of it as he wanted. His eyes took in every inch of her body, as he slowly circled about her, nodding his head appreciatively at what he saw. He hadn't thought it possible, but for an 'older' woman, Mrs. Clark had an amazing body. Her breasts were still firm and supple, with no evidence of sagging at all. The nipples, when erect, stood out prominently from her chest, begging for attention. Moving down, she had a nice tight stomach and petite waist which flared beautifully at the hips, accentuating her gorgeously shaped ass. Her legs were lean and slender, and were a perfect end to a perfect body. Aside from being a few inches taller than Stacey, she was a mirror image of her.

Leaving her standing there, Greg walked over to the counter and, rifling through one of the drawers, pulled out the implement he was looking for. He had seen Mrs. Clark use this wooden spoon often, as she cooked the meals, but had never thought about using it in the manner he had planned. Smacking it several times into the palm of his hand, Greg marveled at the sound it made and the stinging sensation it left behind.

With nervous anticipation, Greg stepped in front of Mrs. Clark and said, "Now, Anne, for wearing inappropriate clothing this morning, you are going to be punished."

"But I...You never..." she began to stammer.

"Enough with your blubbering!" Greg shouted, cutting Mrs. Clark off mid-sentence. "You were already told not to wear that clothing, and yet you chose to willfully disobey me. You obviously need to be taught a lesson, and I intend to teach that lesson now," he said with emphasis.

Mrs. Clark wanted to argue with him, wanted to fight what was happening to her, but that sick feeling in her stomach just kept getting stronger, and she felt her willpower quickly draining away. She could only stand there, head lowered, shaking like a leaf, waiting for his next command. As scared and nervous as she was, she also was feeling excitement building from somewhere deep within her.

"Now, Anne, your punishment is not going to be pleasant. I'm not going to lie to you; it's going to hurt like hell, but I need to make sure that you are going to understand how serious it was for you to disobey me," Greg reasoned.

"Please..." she paused as she thought about how best to address Greg. Remembering the stories, and hoping that if she was really respectful, she might be able to weasel out of whatever punishment he had planned for her, she continued, "Sir, I won't disobey you again. I promise. Pleeaaassee," she whined, sneaking a glance at his face. What she saw frightened her. Greg seemed to have grown in size, since the last time she looked, and he now seemed to tower over her, with a steely look of resolve set firmly on his face.

'I'm sorry, Anne, but it's the only way you are going to learn your lesson," Greg said softly shaking his head. He couldn't believe how easy this was going for him. He had expected more resistance, but she was like putty in his hands. "Now cup your tits for me, Anne, and offer them to me," Greg ordered.

Reddening further, Anne hesitated for only a second, before reaching up and cupping each of her breasts, lifting them slightly. Instinctively, Anne knew what was coming, but found herself powerless to resist. The feeling in her stomach was now overpowering. Closing her eyes, she waited for what she knew was surely to come.

SMACK. The first blow landed squarely upon the top of her left breast, leaving a rapidly reddening mark behind. It took a fraction of a second before the pain registered in her mind. Mrs. Clark screamed in pain, and her left breast lit up and felt like it was on fire. She fought the urge to cover her breasts and to turn away from the next blow, since she knew deep down inside what was expected of her. The punishment would only be worse if she moved.

SMACK. With barely enough time to catch her breath, Greg landed the spoon squarely upon her right breast. Another howl of pain erupted from Mrs. Clark, as she tried desperately to stand still for her attacker. Greg marveled at the sound the spoon made, as it bounced off of her breasts, and how the smooth pearly white skin marked and reddened so quickly. His already hardening cock was now rock hard in his jeans, as he enjoyed the sensations the punishment was creating for him. It caught him a bit by surprise, since he hadn't expected his body to react to the discipline in this way.

SMACK-SMACK-SMACK-SMACK. Greg quickened the pace and applied two quick swats to each breast, spreading the strikes around to areas that had yet to feel the sting of the wooden spoons. Mrs. Clark's breasts bounced and reddened under the strikes and she screeched and howled in pain.

Tears were streaming down her face, as she began to cry and sob from the pain. Mrs. Clark was feeling more and more confused as the punishment continued. Despite the intense pain radiating throughout her body, the knot in her stomach was getting stronger, and a strange tingling feeling was now coming from her pussy.

After Mrs. Clark's breasts were an even shade of red, Greg took aim and landed the final two strikes on each hardened nipple. Mrs. Clark shrieked in agony, as the pain shot through her body. It felt as if someone had applied a red hot brand to each of her nipples. The waves of pain were almost too intense for Mrs. Clark, as she felt her legs begin to buckle.

"On your knees, Anne. NOW!" Greg ordered, knowing she wouldn't be able to stay standing much longer. Like a rag doll, Anne dropped to her knees, still holding her breasts in her hands as she had been directed. "Clasp your hands behind your back. Do not, under any circumstance, move them from that position. If you do, we will simply resume the punishment where we just left off. Is that clear Anne?" Greg demanded.

Through sobs, Anne was simply able to nod her head yes as she moved her hands into position..

"Now, Anne, since I own you, I think it important that you learn how to properly suck a cock. Have you ever given a man oral sex before?" Greg asked.

Keeping her head down, Anne nodded her head again.

"How many times?"

Through her sniffles, Anne mumbled, "a couple of times."

"Who was that with?"

"An old boyfriend," she replied.

"And did you like it, Anne?"

"It was OK. I only did it because my boyfriend had asked," she replied.

"And did you swallow his cum, Anne?" Greg asked pointedly.

With a shocked look on her face, she gasped "God no! That's disgusting."

"Well, that's really too bad then, Anne, because from now on, it's going to be your number one protein snack. We'll call it the golden rule. Unless I say otherwise, you will ensure all semen ends up in your belly. Is that clear?" he asked, with a grin on his face.

With a sob, shoulders dropping even further, she nodded her head once and mumbled a yes.

"On with the lesson now. Show me how you learned to suck a cock." By this time, Greg had dropped his pants and had his raging hard-on in hand. Greg had never really considered himself overly big in that department; certainly not as big as any of those male actors in the porn movies. He had even gone so far as to measure it one time, just to see how it compared. Once hard, it measured an even 8" long and 1 ½" wide. Looking at his hard-on now, it seemed to have grown to twice its size. Greg couldn't remember ever being this turned on before.

Scooting forward on her knees, Mrs. C. raised her mouth to his cock and began to lick the head and shaft. After thoroughly licking the cock she began to suck on the head and first few inches of the shaft. Greg gave her a few minutes to 'show' him how she did it, before he stopped her.

"Fuck! That had to be the worst blow job I've ever had!" Greg exclaimed, as he grabbed a handful of her hair at the back of her head, twisting her face towards his. A sneer covered his face as he began to explain, in great detail, what would be expected of her from now on, when it came to oral sex. "You will never use your hands, but, rather, will keep them clasped behind you at all times. Your sole goal will be to see how much of the cock you can get down your throat. This shouldn't come as a surprise to you. You read how all of the women in the stories were expected to give blowjobs."

"Do you believe yourself to be better than those women in those stories?" Greg asked. Without giving her a chance to answer, he pressed on. "Well guess what? You're not better than they are. You're a dirty little whore, just like them. You can protest all you want, but guess what? All it took were a few comments from me, and you were stripping naked in front of me and letting me blow my load all over your tits."

Still holding tight to her hair and twisting her face up to his, he continued on. "You can pretend to be all prim and proper, but when push comes to shove, you like to be treated like a filthy little whore. Just like those women in the stories you were reading." Greg could see his words were really starting to have an effect on her, as tears of shame began to start falling from the corners of her eyes.

"Still don't believe me? OK, with your right hand stick two fingers in your pussy," he ordered, still not releasing his hold on her hair.

As she hesitatingly brought her right hand around the front of her body and reached for her newly shaved pussy, she knew what she was going to find before she even touched it. She could smell her sex from where she knelt, and, just as it had been when she was shaving it, her pussy was intensely aroused and was dripping juices onto the floor beneath her. She tentatively touched her pussy and instantly felt the unbelievable amount of wetness there.

"Go ahead and bury your two fingers into your pussy." After watching her push her two fingers into her cunt, until only the knuckles were visible, Greg ordered "now take them out and hold them up in front of your face."

With her face a deep crimson red, she removed her fingers and held them in front of her. It was immediately obvious that they were covered in her pussy juices. Her body was responding to the situation, no matter how hard she tried to hide it.

"Now you see? You're obviously very aroused. So, let's recap what it took to get you to that state. While your daughter was still here in this house, you willingly stripped naked for me, right here in the kitchen, knowing that she could walk in at any minute. Then, with hardly any resistance at all, you again strip naked for me here in the kitchen, after your daughter had left, but knowing that she could walk back in that door at any minute, and willingly offered me your tits, so that I could beat them with a spoon. You then let me beat them mercilessly, with no resistance what-so-ever. Then you knelt before me and began to suck on my cock."

Taking a breath, Greg continues. "Now throughout all of that, did anyone touch you in a sexual manner? Did anyone stroke your clit or fondle your tits?"

Tears streaming from her eyes now; all she could muster was a small head shake to his very pointed questions.

"And yet, you're dripping like a bitch in heat. All I've done was to humiliate you and cause you pain, and you're getting turned on by it. Face it; you're just like those dirty little whores in your stories. You get turned on by the humiliation and abuse." Greg could see the war being raged behind her eyes as her thinking brain was trying to reconcile the strange emotions coursing through her body. With a shudder, her shoulders slumped, and Greg could see the resignation there, as she quietly agreed with what he was saying.

"Now let's try that blowjob thing again, and let's see if we can get it right this time." Releasing her hair, Greg waited for her first move.

After only a slight hesitation, she placed her right hand behind her back again and clasped it with the left. Then, nudging forward, she once again took the head of his cock into her mouth and began working its length in. She was about to do something she'd never done before, and Greg could see she was both scared and turned on. With each head thrust down, she worked more and more of his cock in, until he finally felt it bump the back of her throat. She immediately began to gag from the contact and began to pull out.

Grabbing her hair again, Greg stopped her from pulling his cock completely from her mouth. "Remember, my little whore, the cock stays in your mouth. I don't give a shit whether you're starting to gag or not. I'm not here for your entertainment or amusement. As my filthy whore, you have a job to do. Now keep sucking." And with that, he pushed her head hard onto his cock, until it was once again pressing on the back of her throat. Of course, she immediately began to gag again, but with his hand holding the back of her head, she was unable to pull out. Greg held it there for a bit, letting her adjust to having a cock pressing against the back of her throat. Once the gagging subsided, Greg coaxed her again. "OK, it's now time to start working that cock down the throat. I want to see the entire length buried in your throat."

Greg could feel her starting to panic beneath me, so he gently eased off on the pressure in her throat, giving her a chance to relax a little. Then without warning, Greg thrust hard back into her mouth, this time pushing past the barrier at the back of her throat, and lodging an inch or two into her throat. She instantly began gagging around his cock, since he held her head in place for several seconds before pulling out of her throat, allowing her to breathe around his cock once more.

"That's a good little whore Mrs. C. You see, you were able to get a cock down your throat. Now, let's try that again."

Pushing on the back of her head again, more slowly this time, Greg once more forced the head of his cock past the barrier in the back of her throat, and sank several inches of it into her throat, before stopping once again. Holding her head in place with both hands, he enjoyed the sensations rippling up from his cock, while her throat alternately pulsed and gripped his cock, as she struggled with the gag reflex. Feeling her squirm beneath him, and knowing that her very breath depended on his whim was an awe-inspiring feeling of power and dominance. It was a feeling Greg knew he would come to enjoy, and, perhaps, even crave in the weeks to come.

Greg pulled out of her throat once more and allowed her a few moments to catch her breath around his cock. Despite the panic she must have been feeling, Mrs. C. maintained her position on the floor with her hands firmly clasped behind her back. Greg began to coo soft words of encouragement to her as he stroked her hair with one hand.

"That's a good whore. You're doing very well. It's feeling great. Now let's keep working more of that cock into your throat. I want to see all 8 inches of it, buried in your mouth."

With a gentle nudge on the back of her head, she began to work its length back into her mouth. This time, he let her do it herself. When it reached the back of her mouth, she paused for a second, and then began pushing hard until it, once again, slipped past and slid into her throat. This time, without any force from Greg, she allowed several more inches into her throat, and began to piston her head back and forth sliding his length in and out of throat. The gagging still occurred but she seemed more able to deal with it, and to continue to function despite being unable to breath.

She continued this for a while, stopping periodically to catch her breath around his cock, before resuming her ministrations to his cock. By the time Greg could feel his orgasm building, Mrs. C. was an awful mess. From her repeated gagging, her face, and chest were covered in her own saliva, long strands of it hanging from her chin. But despite this, she continued to throat his cock, like the whore she was becoming.

Grabbing a handful of hair at the back of her head, Greg began to piston forcefully into her throat, increasing the pace with each thrust, as the orgasm quickly built within him. Within a few seconds his cock was practically a blur, as he hammered away at her throat. With one final thrust, Greg buried the entire length of his cock into her throat and mouth, and let loose a torrent of cum straight down her throat and into her stomach. Mrs. C. Began to thrash underneath him, as she, literally, choked on his semen and cock. As Greg felt the last few spurts exit his cock, he slowly withdrew from her mouth, and allowed her to hack and cough, as she attempted to regain some of her equilibrium.
When Greg felt the worst of her coughing was over, he began to praise her for a job well done. "Anne, that had to be the best blowjob I have ever had. You suck cock like a real pro. From this point on, that is what I expect of you whenever you are giving a blowjob." Stroking her hair, he continued. "As well, you will also learn to love the taste of cum. If the load is not deposited in your mouth, but rather somewhere on your body, then you will scoop that cum up and place it into your mouth. Protein shakes will become your favorite little whore snack. Is that clear?" Greg asked.

Mrs. C. still knelt at his feet, face red with exertion and shame. She simply nodded her head, too shocked to respond.

"Now Mrs. C., we are half-way through your punishment and you're doing great. Hopefully, after all of this is over, you'll realize the importance of doing whatever I say, when I say it."

Greg found the look of shock on her face was utterly priceless. It was quite obvious that she had thought her ordeal to this point was over. Reaching down, he grabbed a nipple and pinching hard, pulled her to her feet. Still holding her nipple, Greg pulled her toward the kitchen table. When she was standing before it, he positioned her so that she was facing the back door and then pushed her down over the table.

"Now, Mrs. C., I want you to grab the edge of the table in front of you with both hands. You will hold on to this table and not let go, no matter what happens. Should you let go, then your punishment will be doubled. I'm hoping by now, that you realize I am quite serious about your punishments." With those words Greg could see the knuckles on her hands whitening, as she instinctively tightened her grip on the table's edge.

"Spread your feet apart. Wider. Now keep your feet like that." Greg stepped back to admire the view for a few seconds. With her bent over the table and her feet spread apart, her nicely shaven pussy was clearly on display, as was her puckered little asshole. It was also quite obvious, to anyone who cared to look, that she was immensely turned on. Her pussy lips positively glistened with moisture and small rivulets of it trickled down her thighs. Grabbing the camera from his pocket, Greg snapped a few more pictures for his growing album.

Walking over to the back door, Greg bent and picked up one of Stacey's discarded flip flops. As he stood back up, Greg checked the lock on the back door and confirmed that it was not locked. Walking back over to stand in front of Mrs. C., he informed her that, "I am going to spank you now with Stacey's flip flop. This will be our little secret. Every time she puts this shoe on, she'll be oblivious to the fact that it was used to spank your pretty little ass." Walking behind her, Greg continued. "You will keep your head up through it all, and keep watching the back door. Just so you know, it is not locked, and anyone could come walking through it, at any moment to find you in this compromising position. Perhaps even Stacey will walk through that door, having forgotten something or other, and find you willingly humiliating yourself for me." Greg could tell the words were having an effect on her, since she began to visibly shake on the table. "Remember - don't let go of that table, under any circumstances," he cautioned.

With those final words, Greg reared his hand back and brought it down hard upon Mrs. C.'s left ass cheek. The responding CRACK echoed throughout the kitchen, as Mrs. C. shrieked in shock. Taking aim at the other cheek, Greg, again, smacked it as hard as he coul