Family EnslavedChapter 4 Slave Parents
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Family EnslavedChapter 2 : Slave-Mommy free porn video
"It's so nice having lunch together, just the two of us again," my mother smiled at me.
"Yeah," I smiled back. "I was gone too long, Mom. I'm sorry about that."
We were downtown, in a nice little restaurant after doing some shopping together. It had been a long time since my mother and I had done this sort of thing, and we were both enjoying it. I was surprised that I felt no guilt over what I'd done with my dad the previous night and I wondered if he'd followed my instructions and told Mom about his dream. I very much hoped so as we sat there together and I tried to think of some way to ask her, but of course I couldn't.
"Well, I know how busy you are with your new career," Mom nodded and she looked so pretty sitting there.
"It isn't too bad," I shrugged. "The hours are flexible at least."
"I understand," she nodded.
We paused our conversation so we could order our lunch. The waiter gave us both warm smiles and he was cute, enough so that he captured our attention for a long pleasant moment. When he left I rolled my eyes and my mom giggled, a sound which might have seemed strange coming from a woman of her age, but it wasn't. The sound suited her perfectly.
"I also ... Mmmm..." Mom gave me a funny smile, obviously wanting to say something important, or personal perhaps, but hesitating as we returned to our conversation.
"What?" I asked her.
"I know what it is that you do, Susan." She reached out and patted my hand.
"Uhhh..." I licked my lips. "What do you mean?"
"I mean your website, your ... business." Mom was looking into my eyes and her sweet voice was a whisper. "Should I..." she blushed, " ... May I call you Mistress Susan?"
She was smiling too, a very real smile of the sort I saw on the faces of persons visiting my dungeons for the first time. Nervous and eager and just a little overwhelmed by the thought that their deepest fantasies were coming true. It was unmistakable. My mother was hitting on me.
"Mom, I don't think..."
"It's alright, I understand you might be ... confused," she squeezed my fingers in her hand. "I've dreamt of you, of being ... dominated by my own daughter..." she giggled nervously, " ... for so long. You have no idea."
I blinked at her and then I looked around quickly, but we were alone.
"I want to be dominated by you, Mistress..." She bit her bottom lip, looking ten years younger suddenly and I felt my body flush hotly. "May I serve you?"
"But..." I was so confused. "Daddy ... Uh, his computer ... He found my website and he told you?"
"What?" Mom laughed at that. "You're father can barely turn the thing on! He just uses it to read your emails. I found your website."
"You found it?" I swallowed hard.
"Of course. I bought a platinum membership." She leaned forward and her voice was very soft, "I love the girl you use, that Katrina. She's so perfect, you both are. So perfect for each other."
"Yeah..." I sat back, reaching for my water and drinking it quickly.
"Do you hate me?" Mom suddenly asked.
"What?" I stared at her.
"Are you angry with me because I..." She shrugged. "I've wanted to serve you since you were a teenager, Susan. My Mistress Susan. You don't know how often I've wished you were someone else's daughter, just so I could call you that."
"I'm not angry, no ... I'm just..." I didn't know what it was I was feeling.
My father hadn't known a thing and I'd played a little scene with him last night. I'd made him confess his desires and lick my shoes and he'd never had a clue about the real me. It was my mother all along, wanting to be dominated by her own daughter. It made me dizzy and I had to catch my breath before I knew for certain what I had to do.
"Are you okay?" Mom was asking me.
"Yes," I nodded and then I caught her soft brown eyes with mine. "Take off your panties, right now, and put them on the table next to your plate."
"What?" Mom swallowed hard.
"Shut-up. You'll speak when I ask you question and the first word out of your mouth will be Mistress, do you understand me, Slave-Mommy?" I spoke in normal tones, uncaring who might overhear us.
I was commanding her and staring until my mother lowered her eyes obediently. The fact that she'd brought this subject up here, in a downtown restaurant, made me acutely aware of her desire for public humiliation. The first step on our new journey would be to give my mom what she wanted. I could figure everything else out later, I hoped. For now it was enough to slip into the welcome and comforting role of being the Domme in this unexpected scene.
"Mistress, yes, I ... I understand." She was blushing now, red and hot all over and it was going to be a long and interesting lunch.
"Then get those panties off. A Slave-Mommy like you doesn't need them," I chuckled. "You'll offer them to the waiter when he brings us our food."
"Mistress ... Yes..." She started moving, but stopped as I spoke again.
"Have you cheated on your husband, Slave-Mommy?" I asked, repeating the question I'd posed to my father only a short time before.
"Mistress ... I..." She blinked rapidly and looked away.
"Look at me when you speak." I reached over the table and grabbed cheeks painfully, squeezing her mouth. "Have you fucked around on my father?"
"Y-Yes ... Mistress, yes." Mom stared at me, afraid of what she might find in my eyes.
"Good," I let her go with a smile. "You're going to be doing a lot of that, Slave-Mommy. Now get those panties off."
"Mistress, thank you," Mom said softly and she was doing it, working her panties off under her dress and even though her head was down, I knew she was smiling ... and I had a plan, being the good daughter I was.
"Slave-Mommy." I smiled at her across the table from me.
"Mistress?" My mother was looking down, staring at her panties and she placed them carefully on the table.
We were in a restaurant, as I mentioned, and one of the better ones downtown, catering to the businessmen and lawyers who worked in nearby offices. As such there were far more men than women present and even if it had not been so, my mother and I would have gotten our fair share of attention. Both of us were attractive, myself with youthful beauty and my mom possessing a graceful presence that belied her forty-four years.
We were used to attention and we enjoyed it, but it was the first time I'd truly been aware of my mother as a sexual being. She'd been my mom growing up and I'd given little thought to the subject, the way most children assume an indifference to their parents' sexuality. We know it exists, but it's unimportant and even unwelcome, I suppose, for normal offspring.
And we were normal, to all outward appearance; that was the greatest perversion of all.
"He's coming," I was looking over my mom's shoulder at the waiter approaching with our lunch balanced carefully on his tray.
"Mistress, I..." Mom began to protest.
"You'll do as I say, Slave-Mommy," I said simply.
There was no reason to threaten her, no coercion or blackmail was required. There was only the surety in my voice, a sound, an inflection of dominance my mother had been longing to hear since I was barely out of childhood.
"Thank you," I smiled at the young man, who was my own age or a few years younger perhaps. All of 22 and handsome, very clean and polite and attractive in that way.
"Excuse me ... Sir?" Mom cleared her throat and the waiter paused briefly as he placed Mom's salad next to her panties, small delicate underwear of white satin and lace.
"Ma'am?" The man narrowed his eyes, confused a little, and I smiled only slightly, determined to remain still and let the two of them play the scene out.
"Would you ... Take these for me, please?" My mom was blushing furiously as she picked up her underwear between her thumb and finger, exhibiting them to anyone in that restaurant who cared to notice.
"I ... Yes, ma'am," the waiter blushed. "I'd be happy to."
"I don't need them anymore," my mother said behind closed eyes.
The man took them in his hand gingerly and looked at me, smiling and wondering what the joke was. Perhaps he was concerned that we were mocking him somehow. I simply smiled back at him and a moment later he was leaving us.
"Open your eyes, Slave-Mommy." I stabbed my salad with my fork. "Look at me."
There were a number of men seated nearby, watching us now, talking quietly and speculating on who we might be, on what we were doing. I ignored them, but my mother was finding that difficult and her attractive face was colored with fear and humiliation. But there was excitement for her too, as much as she'd ever experienced before in her life. This was what she wanted, to be dominated by her daughter in public and that really is not so uncommon as you might think.
"You did very well, Slave-Mommy," I congratulated her. "But you've always done everything so well, haven't you?"
"Mistress?" My mother's blue eyes were bright and staring into mine.
"When I was growing up I thought you were perfect," I ate my salad slowly, in small bites around my words. "When I had a problem, you always had the answer for me."
"Mistress, I didn't always..."
"Shhhh ... Eat now," I pointed at her plate with my fork. "I want to explain this to you."
"Mistress, yes," she nodded slightly and picked up her fork slowly, jerking her head as a small group of men seated behind her laughed at something.
"Your answers were always the right ones, too," I gave her a pleasant sigh. "You were confident and lovely, respected and well-liked. The perfect mother for a girl growing up, weren't you Slave-Mommy?"
"Mistress, I love you. I'm sorry..." She thought I was angry with her, probably for her infidelity.
"I know, Slave-Mommy. You've always loved me and I've always adored you," I told her truthfully. "So you can imagine my surprise at this, can't you? My mother isn't perfect after all, is she? How many lies have you told me, Slave-Mommy?"
"Mistress, I never lied to you!" Mom licked her lips.
"That's one right there," I laughed at her and she was red-faced. "Just recount the big ones for me, Slave-Mommy. I want to understand this."
"Mistress, I ... I don't understand." My mom's eyes were growing moist and she really was confused, uncertain as to what I wanted to hear from her.
"Do you want to suck my pussy, Slave-Mommy?" I asked in reasonable tones, loud enough so the conversation came to an abrupt halt at the table behind her.
"Mistress..." Mom's mouth was open and her eyes were wide.
"It's alright, tell me," I smiled at her, a real one full of warmth to reassure her.
"Mistress, yes." She lowered her eyes.
"Yes what?"
"Mistress ... Please..." she whispered, begging me weakly.
"Yes what, Slave-Mommy?" I demanded.
"Mistress, yes ... I want to suck your pussy," my mom groaned and a small tear ran from her left eye, down her flushed cheek.
"That was a secret, wasn't it?" I sat back. "Secrets are lies, Slave-Mommy, and we won't have them between us. Not any more. Do you understand me?"
"Mistress, yes."
"What else do you want to do with me?" I took a sip of water. "Tell me everything now."
It was not easy for her to confess her fantasies to me, and the fact that she was doing it in front of strangers who quite honestly bent their heads close to hear every soft word she uttered, must have been terrifying for the woman. Or perhaps it was her enjoyment that gave my mother's voice a sweet quail as she spoke.
She could have stopped anytime, of course. She could have stood up and walked away, or even more simply than that, my mother could have stopped playing the game. But she didn't cease to call me Mistress. Mom acceded to all of my demands and I sensed that she was very close to orgasm as she voiced her long secret desires.
My mother wasn't unusual in her fantasies, other than the fact that they centered on her own daughter. She wanted much of the same things many submissives desired from me. Humiliation, punishment, pain tempered with the occasional tenderness. I suspected she had always wanted sex with me, although I didn't understand the psychology of it. Perhaps it was just a manifestation of her fear of aging; she would recapture her youth through physical love with me. But I didn't know for certain and for the moment it was unimportant in any event.
At some point her desire for sex with her daughter had weighed upon my mom's conscience. That much at least was clear to me. She wanted to be punished for it and of course even that illusion of repentance was spoiled because Mom wanted me to do the punishing. She wanted me to do the forgiving as well; I could see that in her eyes and hear it in her voice as she spoke.
But how could I ever forgive my mother when I blamed her for nothing at all? And that was my secret and keeping it was essential to the woman's pleasure, believe me. Her goal was to be forgiven and so that would be her reward in any given scene we played out. Slave-Mommy would earn her daughter's love and respect over and over again, or if she performed poorly or displeased me in any way, I would withhold it from her.
That was the nature of a Dominant-submissive relationship and it would be the foundation of ours. We were off to a very good start, I thought, much as my father and I had begun so well the previous night. And that relationship was something I needed to consider very carefully, in light of the fact that I'd mistaken my mother's interests for his, and seduced him into a submissive role without realizing it.
It struck me as funny, actually, finding my parents this way, engaging in sexual relations with them. I wasn't so jaded or cynical as some people might believe. It's true I found none of it especially surprising; I wasn't shocked to find that my father wanted to fuck me, or that my mother wanted me to humiliate her in public. I was the ultimate realist and I'd come to understand that people are not perfect in their hearts. The world is not a perfect place and we all have secrets even from those we're closest to.
Alma
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