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From: rache <rache696@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Family Enslaved Ch.2 by Rachael Ross (F/F, (M/D) Incest, FemDom, BDSM, Humil, Mast)
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Date: Tue, 26 Jun 2007 13:10:02 -0400
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Family Enslaved

Copyright 2007 Rachael Ross all rights reserved. Intended for adults
only.
Story Codes: F/F, (M/D) Incest, FemDom, BDSM, Humil, Mast

Note: This was written as an unexpected continuation of the original
story "Slave-Daddy" and the first portion of this chapter is taken
directly from the ending of that original piece. I have since decided
to make it a larger storyline, composed of several chapters, and
retitled the whole as "Family Enslaved". So chapter 1 of this story is
posted as "Slave-Daddy" and that is where you should start...I
apologize for the confusion this may cause some readers. It can't be
helped. Unless you have a time machine I can borrow. -rr

Family Enslaved by Rache
Ch.2 : Slave-Mommy


"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." My 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..." My 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 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 flash hotly. "...
May I serve you?"

"But..." I was so confused. "Daddy...Uh, his computer...He found my website
and he told you?"

"What?" My 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?" My 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?" My 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?" My 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!" My 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 then 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..." My 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?" My mom cleared her throat and the waiter paused
briefly as he placed my mom's salad next to her panties, small
delicate underwear of white satin and lace.

"Ma'am?" The man narrowed his eyes slightly, 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 closed her eyes.

The man took them in his hand gingerly and looked at me, smiling and
wondering what the joke was, perhaps 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, what we were doing. I
ignored them, but my mother was finding that difficult and her
beautiful 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 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..." 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." My 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
tables behind her.

"Mistress..." My 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, that was
terrifying to the woman.

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 did not cease to call me Mistress,
she 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 it was unimportant at that time 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 my
mother'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 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.

It was what made life so interesting.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"A room please, for just one night." My mother was buying us a room at
the Radisson downtown and we wouldn't use it long, just for the
afternoon.

It was interesting watching her. She was so lovely, my mother. Tall
and wonderfully formed, she was much as I hoped myself to be in twenty
years. Her dark hair was brushed and pinned neatly to her neck and she
wore a dress, a real one of royal blue with white trim and buttons. It
showed off her breasts wonderfully, with a low neck and the bra she
wore was under-wired and firm, pushing her creamy breasts out and up.
And of course she wore no panties now, a fact I found secretly
thrilling.

I had no intention of forcing my mom to fuck strangers, although I'd
certainly intimated that in the restaurant. I'd merely wanted to see
her reaction to the suggestion. I did not completely understand why my
mother found it necessary to cheat on my father, and I had no details
as yet. I thought maybe she was punishing him with her infidelity, for
the indiscretion my dad had confessed to the night before.

Such were my thoughts as I waited patiently and somewhat more casual
in my attitude, wearing a mustard skirt, pleated and reaching just
above my knees. Above that a silk blouse, olive green and simple. I
hadn't bothered with a bra, I generally detested the things except as
props, accessories for my body. I had little need of their
functionality, my breasts were firm and upturned and I was always a
somewhat vain about them, as I was about all of me. I suffered very
little false modesty.

After my mother had finished checking us in, I put my arm around her,
holding the woman close and pressing my crimson lips to her ear. Not
to whisper anything, but merely to demonstrate for the clerks and
passersby in that busy hotel lobby that we were there for a very
specific and personal reason.

Two lesbians enjoying an afternoon together, it was obvious to
everyone and my mother shuddered in my arms. I was outting her in
front of strangers, in her hometown in broad daylight. It gave me a
rush of pleasure and I couldn't wait to get her upstairs.

"Undress for me, Slave-Mommy." I told my mother as soon as we were
inside the room. The bellboy was still there, holding our key and
setting the room temperature, turning on the bathroom lights, doing
what he was supposed to be doing, despite the fact that the only
luggage we carried was our purses.

"Mistress..." She glanced at the boy, another young man and fresh out of
high school probably.

"Don't speak to me." I commanded her. "And don't make me repeat
myself, Slave-Mommy."

The boy was blinking at me and his mouth was open, his small pink
tongue working uncertainly between his lips.

"Thank you." I handed him ten dollars and he had sense enough to leave
quietly, looking over his shoulder as my mother unbuttoned her dress.

"It won't be long before the entire staff knows that you're my Slave-
Mommy." I chuckled, moving around the room to turn on all of the
lights, opening the drapes to flood the room with sunlight. I wanted
her to know I could see her.

"You've been a bad mommy, haven't you?" I asked her, sitting finally
in a leather chair just as my mother was letting her dress fall from
her shoulders.

"Mistress, yes I have."

"Take off your bra, show me your tits." I said, staring at my mother's
thinly covered sex. She had just a small amount of curling brown pubic
hair and beneath it I could see her labia, plump and ruddy and hanging
down slightly between her thighs.

"Mistress, do you like my body?" She asked me slowly, reaching behind
her to unsnap her bra.

"Not yet." I shrugged, feigning indifference. "Before tomorrow you'll
shave your cunt clean for me, Slave-Mommy. You'll keep it that way. Do
you still menstruate?"

It was strange to realize that I had no idea if my mom had gone
through menopause yet, but I doubted it. She was still relatively
young for that, and while we'd never gone out of our way to discuss
our sexuality once I'd left for college, I think she would have
mentioned it.

"Mistress, I had my period ten days ago." She pulled her bra away for
me, showing me her breasts completely.

"What do you use for birth control, Slave-Mommy?" I sat back, taking
her nudity in slowly.

She had nice breasts, although not so firm as they'd once been
obviously, but they were large and heavy with long dark nipples. She
was plainly aroused and had been for some time. My mother's skin was
pink and she shivered slightly, watching me as I looked her up and
down.

"Mistress, we us condoms." She swallowed and nodded, agreeing with
herself.

"No pills, Slave-Mommy?" I smiled. "No diaphragm or anything like
that, hmmm?"

"Mistress, no just...Just condoms."

"Spread your legs for me...Wider...Wider, Slave-Mommy, I want to see your
cunt." I told her, wiggling my fingers from side to side as she did
what I told her.

"Play with your pussy now, show me your clit." I demanded, watching
her from my chair all of six feet away perhaps, as she stood in the
center of the room.

"Mistress...Yesss..." She gave me the smallest smile and began touching
herself, as if she'd been waiting for permission all her life.

"How often do you masturbate, Slave-Mommy?" I asked, feeling my own
pussy getting moist as I watched my own mother frig her clit.

"Just...Mistress, just sometimes." She was breathing harder now and I
could see her clitoris, bright pink and the size of a child's thumb.

"Sometimes?" I laughed. "What does that mean? Once a month, once a
week? What?"

"Mistress, once a w-week...Maybe." She had her eyes closed, her knees
bending slightly and she was red, beautifully red all over fingering
her cunt for her own daughter, telling me all of her little secrets
now.

"You have a pretty clit, Slave-Mommy, a nice big one...I bet you could
fuck me with it."

"Ohhh..." She shoved two fingers into her hole, making soft wet sounds
as she worked them in and out.

"Stop!" I commanded her suddenly, just as it looked like she might be
close to cumming.

"M-Mistress..." She slowed her fingers.

"Don't you cum!" I warned her. "Put your hands in the air, above your
head. Now! Do it!"

I was loud and stern, the tone of my well-practiced voice leaving her
with no choice but to obey me. It cut through her pleasure and my
mother loosed a soft sob of frustration as she lifted her hands
slowly.

"Come here, slowly, walk towards me." I told her, reaching for my
purse.

"Stand still, Slave-Mommy, and watch me." I retrieved a bobby pin,
ever a useful item and I reached for my mother's hard clitoris with my
left hand, pinching it roughly so that she jerked with a sudden spasm
of pain and pleasure.

I clipped her nub of sensitive flesh between the thin dark bands of
metal, sliding it across the thick base of her erect clit so that it
was distended even further from its hood and held there, jutting erect
from her vulva. It hurt her, I knew, and my mother was gasping, her
hands clenched into small fists, close to her open mouth.

"Get on your knees, Slave-Mommy." I let go of her clit and she moved
slowly, as if she might lessen her discomfort that way.

I had two more bobby pins and I used them on her nipples, pulling the
dark rubbery tips out between my thumb and forefinger and clipping
them as close to her areolas as possible. If we'd been in my dungeon I
could have clamped the woman properly and given her some additional
weights, especially on her outer labia, which were wonderfully large
to my eyes. As it was I had only the few improvised tools I happened
to have in my purse.

That would be enough, such relationships do not depend on extravagant
utensils any more than they do on melodramatic scenery or elaborate
costumes. The important things were brought to the moment within our
own selves.

"How does that feel, Slave-Mommy?" I asked, settling back once more
and noting the immediate swelling of my mother's nipples with no small
satisfaction. She was a very responsive woman.

"Mistress..." She swallowed hard. "...It hurts...My clit..."

"I'll give you a safe word, Slave-Mommy, because I love you so much."
I smiled at her. "Do you know what that is?"

"Mistress I think so...I..."

"It's a word that tells me that you're not enjoying yourself anymore."
I said patiently. "A word that lets me know I've pushed you over your
limits. You'll use it when you must, and I won't punish you for it. I
won't be angry with you, or disappointed. It's a tool and a helpful
one and you mustn't be afraid of it. Do you understand me?"

"Mistress yes." She nodded her head.

"When you use your safe word, I'll stop immediately. That's my promise
and I'll never break it. Do you believe me?" I was speaking slowly,
giving the clamps time to do their work well.

"Mistress, I believe you." Her lower lip was trembling and she was
blinking back tears. My mother's clit was burning with pain now and I
looked down to see it enlarged noticeably and very nearly violet with
trapped blood.

"But you must promise me, Slave-Mommy, that you'll never use it unless
you have to. It's our bond, our sign of trust. Do you promise me
that?"

"Mistress...I swear, yes...Only if I have to..."

"Good." I nodded and took a deep breath through my nose. "Your safe
word is Tangerine, Slave-Mommy. Tangerine. Say it now so that I know
you understand."

"Tangerine." My mom said softly.

"Very good." I reached out to stroke my mother's feverish face,
feeling her tears under my thumb as I caressed her. "Would you like to
say it now? Would you like me to stop?"

"N-No...Mistress, no...Not yet..."

The clip had been on her clit for all of five minutes now, longer than
that even, and I would release it soon. She was eager, I would give my
mother that much, but inexperienced beyond what she'd seen and read on
the internet. Her limits were short as yet, and perhaps they would
always remain so, but I had no wish to torture her because of it. I
would always respect her.

My mother did want to please me so badly and I was happy with her for
it, much more so than I would show her.

"Stand up, Slave-Mommy...Turn around." I stood up behind her, pressing
my clothed body to her damp skin. She was sweating and shaking
lightly, her muscles taut as she rallied herself against the pain in
her aching clit and turgid nipples.

I reached around her, giving my mother a small reward mixed with some
additional anguish as I pressed my hand to her burning sex. I cupped
her vulva, forcing two fingers inside the cunt from which I'd been
birthed 24 years before, and my palm pressed against her clitoris,
bringing a low moan from her soft lips. I kissed my mother's neck and
hair and she turned her head so that I could find her mouth with mine.

I fingered her flaming cunt hard, digging inside her soft folds and
tormenting her swollen clitoris mercilessly. She would lose that pain,
or so I hoped, and I was testing her that way. I'd give her what she
craved, pushing my tongue into her receptive mouth so that she could
suck on it, play her own fervently across it. It was what she desired
most and she would learn that the terrible pain she was suffering was
just a door to pleasure.

It was her reward, being kissed by her daughter after so many years of
lusting for it. She would cum for me, despite the pain, and even
because of it in some respects. I'd given it to her like a gift, that
punishment my mother yearned for and she'd accepted it willingly. Now
I could reward her properly and I wrapped my left arm around her soft
trembling stomach while I fingered and kissed her. I held her up
against the weight of her climax as my mother came in my hand.

I drank my mother's moans the way I'd swallowed her milk as a newborn,
nursing on her pleasure as she sought that lofty plateau of ecstasy.
It was there, waiting for her, the magical release of endorphins, her
body's own reward for pushing itself to the limits of her endurance.
It was sub-space, in the silly slang of the BDSM community, the place
where dreams really do come true and pain is washed away.

That was where I'd wanted to bring her, what I wanted to show my
mother. And in the middle of her cum I pulled her clamp away quickly,
sliding that bobby pin off her tender clitoris like it was a grenade,
and her gasp exploded into my lungs. It was a flash of pain like she'd
never imagined, so much worse than being clamped was that paradox of
being suddenly freed. It was truly exquisite and my mother's eyes
fluttered and another orgasm, better than her first, tore through the
woman.

And she was there suddenly, born aloft on pleasure's wings and
floating beyond the tendrils of mere pain. It was a sublime moment and
I was proud of myself as I turned my mother slowly, gently, coaxing
her with my hands to sit on the bed. I removed the pins from her
nipples tenderly, rubbing the swollen buds with my thumbs as she lay
there, moaning and smiling up at me.

It was the conclusion of our first scene, and the first of many I was
certain. She was my slave now and forever, my Slave-Mommy and I would
possess her for as long as she would allow it. Just as I would own my
father, my Slave-Daddy, and very soon I would introduce them to each
other. My mother and father, my slaves, meeting each other as if for
the first time and that would be very interesting, I thought.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
end
rache696@yahoo.com
www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/rache/www/index.htm

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