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Subject: {ASSM} Mother's Daughter by Foxbat (mf nc nosex flash)
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Date: Fri,  9 Jul 2004 20:10:04 -0400
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Mother's Daughter by Foxbat (mf nc nosex flash)


Disclaimer: This story contains graphic sex should not be
read if such stories are illegal in your state, or if you are a minor.

Please feel free to distribute this, on the condition that the
disclaimer and author's name remain intact and unaltered.

For previous parts, or other stories of mine, please check out
http://assm.asstr-mirror.org.

You can search by title or author, or just browse.  Happy reading.

Thanks to ASSTR, I also have a website at
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/foxbat/www/ where you can find all of my work.  This
is also available via ftp at www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/foxbat/


Feedback, comments, suggestions, etc are always welcomed and
appreciated at foxbat00@gmail.com


Mother's Daughter by Foxbat (mf nc nosex flash)

  The doorbell chime interrupted Diane as she was doing the dishes
after dinner.  Her daughter, one day past her fifteenth birthday, was
helping her dry.

   "Can you get that hun?" Diane asked, tired still from chaperoning
the birthday party.

"Sure, mom," Julie said, as she dropped the towel and walked towards
the front door.  Reappearing a minute later, she informed her mother,
"He says he's here to see you.  Says he's an old friend."


Diane turned, just as the man stepped into view from the front
hallway.  Her heart leaped into her throat, and she had to grip the
towel-bar to keep from collapsing.  He looked just like she
remembered, except that he was perhaps a little more bald, his neatly
trimmed beard more white, and the depth of his gray eyes even greater.
 When she had first met him while working at the diner, she thought he
looked like some sort of distinguished author or statesman.  He was
the type who was instantly recognizable, but impossible to describe -
American is full of bearded men of average height and weight.  It was
those eyes which defied description that made him unmistakeable
though.  And those eyes now burned into her again for the first time
in 15 years.

   "Hun, why don't you go upstairs.  Mr..." - she realized she'd never
known his last name - "Mr. Smith and I have some things to talk
about."  Julie, despite a momentary premonition of trouble, complied,
disappearing up the stairs near the front door.

   "So you've finally come for her," Diane sighed, with a look of
resignation.  The man nodded slowly.

   "From the look of things, I would guess that you haven't told her
anything," the man observed.

   "Yes, I thought I'd leave that to you," Diane replied, a faint
smile on her lips.  "You did such a good job explaining to me."

   Both looked wistful for a moment, their minds on events that
happend 15 years prior.  Suddenly, the man looked up.

   "So I will be back later tonight then, after she's asleep."  He
paused.  "You will keep your end of the deal - you will not fight me
on this, right?"  His gray eyes tore into Diane.

   Inwardly, she laughed.  He must be getting senile if he thought
that anything she could do would stop him.  She'd already tried every
trick in the book, but after each move, every name change, the monthly
$5000 checks would always find their way into her bank account,
regularly as clockwork.  After a few years, Diane had essentially
given up, and decided that she might as well give her daughter a
normal life for as long as she could.  She sighed and nodded her
acquiescence.  It would be hard to live in an empty house again.

   Part of her wondered how her daughter would react - if Julie would
feel the same feelings that she herself had felt all those years ago. 
It was strange, she thought, but by the end, she was almost reluctant
to leave.  Not that that had stopped her.  It was testimony to her
still conflicted feelings on the matter though, that she had never
been satisfied with any relationship she'd had since.  She had not
been traumatized so much in retrospect.  She felt less like an abused
child as a result of the experience, and more as, say, a veteran who
returns from war to find the normal existence for which he'd been
longing for years too mundane to occupy him or to sate his craving
for... not for war again, but for something like it.

   Diane looked up from her reverie, but the white-bearded man had
already left.  Perhaps with her daughter gone she could now renew her
search for man in her free time.

   ***

   "Good morning, sleey," said the old man.  Julie at first thought
she was still dreaming as she opened her eyes.  She was sitting in a
large easy chair in the middle of what appeared to be a private
library.  The walls were covered in floor to ceiling shelves, and the
chairs in which she and the old man sat were the only furniture
besides a reading table or two.  She tried to sit up in the seat, only
to discover that her arms were bound behind her back.  Further
struggling established that her feet were also bound, and that all
binding were quite secure.

   The man sat calmly, watching and waiting while the girl tested her
bonds and then screamed for help.  After nearly 5 minutes of this, the
man, with a patronizing but slightly peeved look finally inquired if
she was quite done already.

   Feeling foolish, Julie shot the man a drop dead look, but remainded
silent and immobile on the floor, where she'd fell during her
struggles.

   "Now then.  Do you know why you're here?" the man with the beard
asked Julie.

   She recognized him as the friend of her mother's who had been at
the door the previous night.  "Because you fucking kidnapped me!"
Julie seethed in response.

   The man smiled.  "Touche.  Do you know why I kidnapped you then?"
he asked.  Julie shook her head in frustration, wishing that the game
of 20 questions he was playing would end, so that she could be
released or rescued or anything really except this
Alice-in-Wonderland-like reality.

   "You will be my sex slave," pronounced the man, smiling for the
first time.  "You will service me, and anyone else I designate eagerly
and skillfully, or else I will punish you.  Of the two modes of
existence available to you, I will enjoy both equally, while you might
find one much more to you liking than the other."  His smile twisted
into a leer.

   "Fuck you!  I'll never touch you, you fucking perv!"  Julie spat back at him.

   He just continued smiling.  "You remind me so much of your mother,"
the man sighed, as if the thought alone wearied him.

   For a moment, her anger was forgotten, as Julie was overcome by
curiosity.  "How did you know my mother," she asked.

   "Your mother once lay on the floor where you now lie.  She
fulfilled my every fantasy for about 5 years.  Then, one day, after
one of my little parties, she informed me that she was pregnant. 
After clinical verification, and on learning that I was not the
father, I decided to get her an abortion, but she pleaded with me to
let her have the child.  Despite having been very carefuly with birth
control for her, this unexpected condition ruined all my plans.  Her
desire to keep the child was so strong, that she told me she would do
anything to be able to have it.
   "The child is you, and the anything was the stipulation that, at
age 15, you would fill out the remainder of your mother's service to
me.  Since, at the time of her release, your mother had already been
missing 5 years, she had been declared legally dead.  Each month since
then, I have deposited a substantial amount of money into her bank
accounts to allow her to raise you in a nice environment, without
having to worry about work or money.  Despite her best efforts at
evading me, and despite having told her story to the FBI - who did not
believe her anyway - I have followed you both, waiting for today. Over
the intervening years, I have had other 'ammusements,' but none has
come anywhere near your mother in satisfying me."

   The man paused, looking down at Julie, who seemed to be in shock. 
Part of her was denying what the man said, but it did explain all the
moving and name-changing which stood out so starkly in the landscape
of her early memories.  Her mother had always told her that the money
had come from the estate of a rich aunt who'd died, but she'd never
known the name or heard about the aunt in any other context.  There
were only the most faint memories of private detectives and
investigators, police, and talk of monthly deposits - faint enough
that she was unsure to what extent they were seeded by what the man
had just told her.



------

As always, I love to hear what you think.  Drop me an email at
foxbat00@gmail.com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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