The embarrassing life of Floor (Slipped in the shower finished 19-4-26)

[MunchingOnDaCookies]

I’m working on a new chapter for this story that will probably be done this weekend. Hope you will all enjoy it .

[Freesub]

I’m working on a new chapter for this story that will probably be done this weekend. Hope you will all enjoy it .

Looking forward to it, but I hope you will tell us how much of this incident was real and what was fictional!

[Diapal]

Looking forward to the next part!! Curious to see what happens to Floor at school

[EddieDavidson]

I would love more of this story. I've tried to figure out why I enjoy it so very much.

Normally, I feel bad for a character like Floor. The whole family seems to be going against her and she never seems to do anything to bring it on.

Now, let's say it was a big titty stuck up Courtney Stodden know-it-all, or Casey Anthony and her shitty mother brought to heel before they could do what they did, I'd be all over it.

Yet, it hits different. The brilliance of this story is that it feels like an alternate reality but still remains plausible. It is an enjoyable romp into treating her like a cum-dripping slut wtih a pretty butthole and flat tits.

I've tried myself to recreate the energy and I just can't do it. I get hung up on the plausibility and justifications. I wrote these three girls (Barbara, Tuna and Chicken breasts) with Barbara being their young, dumb mother and I found myself feeling bad for them. They can't stop cumming all over themselves/playing with themselves and being sort of shitty. Tuna is a "topper" - if you tell her you did something, she tells you how she did it better. If you had Chinese food, she had "better when we went to NYC". Chicken Breast once stuffed her bra with chicken cutlets and they stunk to high heaven. etc.


I know what I love about this story. I can see it, but I can't write it.

I''ve been dying for a sequel, or more or something like it. It's just really good writing and it's genius is the simplicity of the story telling.


So, I found this - I did not write it. I dont know who did. I can only tell you that I found myself asking "Floor? is that you?"

So, imagine Doctor Phil, this is written like a script.



It's a typical too-bright talk show set, with several screens on the back wall, one of which displays the reactions of the audience behind our main characters.



M is the mother, a tall, imposing-looking 40-something woman with a warm smile and dark curls pinned behind her head. She wears a sleek skirt suit that shows off her elegantly crossed legs and red-bottomed Louboutin pumps. She's seated in a comfortable armchair, sipping a piña colada. Her other hand, capped with scarlet nails to match the pumps, holds a thin leash, the end of which seems to disappear behind...



... D, the daughter, who kneels next to her mother with her hands on her spread knees and her gaze trained on the floor. She is a beautiful blonde with delicate features clad in a lilac miniskirt and a ruffled sleeveless top. What you notice right away when you look at her is that she has large, firm breasts with little obtrusions around the nipple area that are prominent even through the lilac bra that the sheer white fabric doesn't conceal. The second thing you'll notice is that she looks like she's trying not to cry, even though she knows she will probably fail at this.



H, the host of the talk show, sits across from them in a crisp suit. He's a little older than M, but fairly good-looking if you like the salt-and-pepper type. His whole body is alive with interest and anticipation, angled towards M. He occasionally casts a slightly hungry look at D.



i.



H: Hello, hello to our two wonderful women of the hour! May I just say how excited I am to have you onboard, and for the benefit of the audience—just listen to them, they're wild—



M: I'm thrilled to be here myself. She smiles with an undertone of arrogance, glancing briefly at the audience, which is indeed cheering with surprising abandon.



H: —and why shouldn't they be after all, we've all been clamoring to get you to talk to us ever since you first started blogging about your unconventional parenting style and may I just say how happy I am that you finally agreed.



M: Alright, but then no more saying for you. It's my turn. She shakes a finger at him. It's a charming gesture. The audience laughs and so does H, obviously happy to have a chance to take a joke on himself.



M, facing the sympathetic crowd: Don't you hate it when they do that? Give us guests a chance, we're only meant to make you all fall in love with us within the hour.



H, pretending to look cowed: All right, point taken. Anything as long as you don't discipline me!



M: Oh now, don't break my heart! I'm actually very nice to everyone who isn't my daughter, you can ask my colleagues and extended family and friends. And in her case, well you know it's for her own good and personally (leaning forward confidingly) as I've admitted in many posts, I wish she didn't make me do it. She smiles toothily and tugs imperceptibly on the leash. Only a trained eye would notice D's responsive inflection of breath and the slight arch of her back.



H: It must be difficult.



M: You know, it is and it isn't. On the one hand, you wish your daughter was capable of following in your footsteps as a lawyer, or even following her own dream. I'm not one of those parents who says oh, you know, you'll never get anywhere acting. My elder daughter is actually a brilliant painter, please do check out her work!



H, pulling up a portrait depicting M on a screen to oohs and aahs from the audience: Here she's painted you, I believe. Excellent likeness. And it's obvious how much she adores you.



M: Oh, yes. We share a very mutually loving and respectful relationship and (slightly coquettishly) I don't want to spoil the book for you but her creativity definitely extends to coming up with fresh discipline techniques for D!



A murmur of anticipation runs through the audience.



M, clearly warming up to her subject: So one thing I definitely want to warn parents about is, even though I already do this all over my blog: don't implement my techniques on your children, especially your daughters. In her passion, she moves her hands as she speaks. The leash wrapped around one fist moves with her and D is unable to keep herself from twitching in time with it. Some members of the audience are beginning to point and notice. I'm a proud feminist and a progressive. I take on as many pro bono cases as I can, particularly from women of color. I don't believe in breaking the spirits of normal children, and yes by that I do mean both the abled and the disabled!



A few approving claps are heard.



M: And I don't believe in abuse and rape. What you have to understand is that my situation is pretty unique. There are very few young women who are fundamentally filthy, bratty little whores who, for the good of themselves and society, are best kept on their knees, bent over, or splayed open.



Several people in the audience whoop and H echoes the cry, although otherwise seemingly intent on letting her ride out the tide of passion without interruption.



M, flushed with pleasure at her reception: The kindest thing you can do for the rare handful of women like this is to accept them for who they are and speak a language they understand. And once they're pretty well-trained, well, that's where the not-difficult part comes in, you start really enjoying not only the result but also the process! I mean maybe it's not very PC to say it (she pulls a face and shrugs her shoulders, then winks at the audience, who's obviously lapping this by-play up) but there's nothing quite like having your daughter mouth off in the food court and just yanking her tits out, bending her over the railing so seven floors of people get a nice view, and giving her a snug little wedgie and a spanking to go with it!



There's a lot of hooting going on now, and H looks faintly dazed at this information.



M, now winking at him: Bet you'd like to see that image, wouldn't you.



Laughter as H makes a "like you wouldn't believe" face.



M: It's actually available in the book, little treat for you guys. Both a security cam that got her crying face and bouncing tits, and a picture I took of my angle of things to remind her of the consequences of her actions.



At this point, two tears roll down D's face. Unfortunately for her, a camera immediately zooms in on her, and the audience "awww"s as one.



H: Oh, now don't cry—(he cuts himself off and addresses M)—I can address her directly right? I'm a little rusty on the rules.



M, with an air of concession: Yes, yes. She was actually being punished with a ballgag for the past couple of days but I let her take it out for the interview because she begged so nicely and I was feeling generous. She shrugs in a "what can you do" gesture.



H: Or it was because you realised answering questions would be even more embarrassing for her, and you just couldn't resist.



M, her face surprisingly young as she laughs: You got me.



H: There's the disciplinarian we know and love. Now for our little wuss over here—darling, let's hear from you! How do you feel about your lifestyle, what rewards has it brought you?



D, her melodic voice trembling slightly: Well, it's like Mommy said. It's the only way to deal with me, and I'm much better than I used to be now that I'm under a real firm hand. It takes effort to take the trouble to train me up and I'm very grateful for that.



M looks down at her with pleased contempt and lazily pats her head, then clutches a handful of hair at the back of her head tightly. M: Don't you have something you want to say to Mommy?



D: Oh, yes. She looks up through tearstained lashes. Thank you, Mommy.



H starts to comment but M waves a hand to quiet him, still looking down at her daughter.



M: Is that how you say thank you?



D, on a short desperate breath: Oh, Mommy, not in front of all these people, not on TV!



H, managing to speak: I think it's safe to say we all really need to see this now.



The audience titters, although most are too focused on the mother-daughter interaction to pay the tired old host much mind.



M just looks at her daughter and D accepts her fate very quickly. She turns around, still in position, and then gets on her hands and knees. One camera zooms in on the face, crumpling with a sob; the other on the nice ass now discernible under the skirt. M reaches down her hand and flips up the skirt.



D, H and the audience gasp as one. A completely bare and stunningly full, ripe ass comes into view with a pair of puffy pink, shaven lips between them. The kicker is the very large plug seated firmly between her cheeks. As the camera zooms in on this display — a little belated perhaps due to the shock of the cameraperson — there are a few moans of pleasure from the audience, and M smirks with satisfaction, then leans down to push the plug further in and give it a cruel twist. D's entire body bucks. M then places her index finger on the exposed pussy and rubs roughly. D releases a strangled moan of humiliation. Everyone seems to be waiting with bated breath as M raises the finger, obviously slick with moisture, and arches her eyebrows at H and then the audience.



M: Didn't I tell you? She's a whore through and through. Imagine getting off on being on a talk show! Next to your own mother!



H, his voice slightly gravelly: We agree, M, and I think I speak for everyone here when I say you have our greatest respect and admiration for continuing to deal with her so patiently.



The audience breaks out into wild applause, the loudest yet. D, who seems to think the moment is over, makes as if to pull her skirt down and sit back up but her mother's pump lands on her back in a flash, forcing her whole body to freeze.



M: Now, little girl, that's two direct orders you've disobeyed. It's almost as if you want to be punished in front of all these people. Of course that doesn't surprise me at all but I promise you you don't want to increase what's already coming to you. She ruffles her hair and flashes a smile as the audience murmurs with anticipation. Now finish saying thank you like a good slut.



D moves forward on her hands and knees, her ass swaying, pausing dutifully to let her skirt be tucked into the waistband of her top as M tuts at the audience in a "kids! You have to do everything for them" way, and presses her lips to the toe of her mother's shoe.



D, through a sob: Thank you so much, Mommy.



M: Thank you for what?



D, still speaking through tears: Thank you for working day in and day out to turn me into your useful obedient slut instead of letting me run around getting ideas about having rights to anything. All I need and deserve is to be regularly punished thoroughly on my bare bottom, pu-pussy, tits, face and any other part of my body, which all belongs to you of course—and to get safe, painful, unexpected, mommy-approved poundings from my betters. She swipes her tongue slavishly around the toe of the heel.



M: You're welcome, sweetheart. She leans down to give the head a pat.



H: How heartwarming. You know, I think she has promise!



M pulls D up by the hair until she is kneeling again, facing her mother with her exposed, plugged ass pointed towards H, who doesn’t look like he minds at all. M: Now what do you say? I'm really getting very tired of reminding you. She punctuates her words with a resounding slap that knocks D's head sideways and draws another gasp, and a tug at the leash that, it is now obvious to everyone, is snaking up D's top.



D: Please punish me for being such a stupid little cunt, Mommy. Her mother's hand starts to rise again and she scrambles for more. Please punish me by making me strip and spanking me as hard as you can in front of all these people.



The audience seems to mostly forget to cheer this time, they're so rapt, eyes swiveling back and forth between the pair.



M, caressing her cheek gently as D's lashes flutter with fear: That's almost right, dear. She raises her hand and slaps her again anyway, now with even more force, this time on the other cheek. But I don't think you should be allowed to strip yourself, do you? You're so stupid and naughty you might get that wrong too. You need your mommy to help you out, don't you?



D, nodding fervently as fresh tears slip down her cheeks: Yes, thank you, Mommy, you treat me so well.



M then grabs a larger fistful of hair to get a better grip and turns her head to show the audience the vicious red slap prints that seem to swallow each cheek up entirely. M, cooing like a proud mother over a baby: Doesn't she look just perfect like this?



The audience's assenting murmur is vigorous.



D, thickly: You should just keep me with a red, slapped face, Mommy. I have no right to walk around in public without making sure everyone knows what a slag I am and how regularly I need to be punished. It's what I deserve.



M, sighing: Now I know you're trying to lighten your punishment but this is what I mean, darling, you don't think about anyone but yourself and your own selfish needs. How can I give up more of my busy life to training you? I can't be with you every minute of every day.



The audience makes sympathetic sounds, and a few shoot D dirty looks.



M: Although if you really think you need it I suppose I can fork over for a nanny who does it even when I'm not with you. She can be with you all the time, even in the bathroom and give you all the slaps you need, and she can make sure you keep your plugs in and follow all my other rules like I'm not quite sure you always do when I don't have time for the chastity belt.



The horror on D's face is a treat to watch. The sound of hundreds of audience members, and H, shifting in their seats in unison echoes through the auditorium.



H: This is how the brain of a true strategist and loving mother works in real time, folks. And now, we'll be back after our break to see the punishment lucky little D is going to get on air. Stay tuned!



ii.



The break ends to find D's face now dry and blank. She is standing closer to the audience, as is her mother across from her. A straight-backed chair with a large wooden paddle on it has been placed next to them, emblazoned with the slogan MOMMY'S BITCH.



M starts by slapping D's face a few more times, then rapidly unbuttoning her top and pulling it over her head. She then balls it up and stuffs it in D's mouth. D, obviously not expecting this, chokes, to laughter, and is rewarded with another slap.



M, addressing the audience conspiratorially as she unhooks the squirming teen's bra: Don't worry, we'll be taking that out eventually when she'll get to put her mouth to good use.

They, however, don't seem to register the hint. Every eye in the room is fastened on the tits that bounce free, not least because the large erect reddening nipples that cap them are hugged by a pair of wicked-looking nipple clamps, connected by a chain that links to the leash that M carries.



M, tugging harshly on it to a muffled keen from D: Oh, this. Yes, this isn't really because she's done anything, I just like to treat myself by reminding her of her place once in a while. Leading her around on this is pretty nice, especially when you make her bare her tits at a barbecue with the whole family, who by the way, are a great support. My parents are the sweetest—you should see the trouble they go to for her! All she has to do is drop a drink she's fetching them—and I admit, I'm not a perfect mom, I often look past the little clumsy errors because you just get so tired as a single mom—and the next thing you know, she's getting these clamped tits belted while she whimpers and screams on my ex-husband's cock! (chuckling) I think that's the only reason he used to go to these affairs, he used to complain I was too soft on her and didn't let him fuck her often enough.



H: You're killing us, M.



M laughs brightly, seizing her daughter's chin and squeezing with glee. M:Alright, let's get started, I'll have to tell you about things at school some other time.



A groan of disappointment reverberates through the room.



M, coquettishly: No, no, we really can't get into it, H will get upset. You'll have to buy the book for that!



Without further ado, M sits down on the chair facing the audience and pulls her daughter over her lap. She squeezes one tit punishingly with one hand and rests the other on her ass, where she plays savagely with the plug.



M, gently: How full do you feel, little girl?



There's an answering whine and M smirks. M: Oops. So you can't tell me how you feel like you just can't take anymore but you know you're going to have to because what you want really couldn't matter less? Like you're full to bursting with the reminder of how thoroughly under Mommy's control you are and your poor neglected soaking pussy (here she spreads her daughter's legs obscenely and cups her pussy with her broad hand) will just have to wait until Mommy decides it can get drilled until it's nice and sore? Is that what it's like?



The hanging head bobs up and down in defeat.



H, strained: I have to say, M, I shouldn't have doubted you when she came in looking so angelic. She really is good for nothing but a fucking.



M: A mother always knows, H. Now, since you guys voted in the break to have her spanked over my knee instead of over the back of the chair or H's podium, or on all fours or in the diaper position, that's how we'll do it, although some of you unfortunately won't have such a good view. She rubs her hand possessively over her daughter's ass, and then raises it and spanks her with so much force her squeal, even through her makeshift gag, is audible.



H: Did you ever play tennis, M?



M, smiling: I was a pro player and a swimmer when I was young. She raises her hand again and brings it back down on the other cheek. Then she begins spanking in earnest, tugging on the chain as she does and sometimes pinching and pulling at the nipples herself. Sometimes she moves to grip her daughter's hair for a minute, bending her head back as far as possible, but her daughter is almost never not being punished on both ends, and the constant dance of each of her hands is mesmerising to watch. About fifty swats in, she picks up the paddle, which she flashes to the audience, and then pulls the bundle from her daughter's mouth, asking her : What do you say now?



D: Oh, Mommy, it hurts so much and it's so embarrassing, please don't paddle me too! I've learned my lesson, I'll be your good obedient useful slut, I'll let you use me as a footrest all weekend and not complain once, Mommy, please—



M, with an edge to her cooing tone: It's so cute that you still think you decide what happens to you. The footrest suggestion is noted, and you can forget about seeing the new Spiderman now even if you take hot peppers up both your holes and let your friends send me a video of them putting new ones in at the interval like we agreed. Now what do you say?



D, sobbing: Mommy, thank you for hand spanking my bare bottom and punishing my tits and embarrassing me for my own good and yours and everyone else's pleasure, which is far more important than what I want. Please, Mommy, please spank me even harder with the paddle until you're sure it'll hurt even more than usual every time you tell someone to make me take it up the ass for months.



M, stroking her daughter's face and nipples with obvious condescension: That wasn't so hard now was it, baby? But you’re still forgetting something. Don’t these nice people at least deserve to see your pussy after all this time?



The audience choruses in assent, broad grins splitting every face.



D, very quietly: Mommy, please take my skirt off so I’m completely nude.



M, singing as she crashes the paddle down: I can’t hear you!



D, loudly: Mommy, please may I have my skirt taken off and show off my bare pussy to hundreds of people?



M: Of course you may.



D knows the drill. She gets up and allows her mother to pull her skirt down slowly. A completely shaven pussy comes into view.

Her mother twists her to face the audience. M:I keep her nice and clean. Her sister likes to handle the shaving herself because she says I have enough on my hands but she’s moved away and is an independent woman now. She sighs wistfully. Her stepfather was excellent at it too, and very regular with the surprise checks, bless his heart. But enough reminiscing. Open up!



D unhinges her jaw widely to accept the gag and drapes herself back over the familiar maternal lap. The paddle lands sharply on her ass the next second and stays there, pressing firmly into both wobbling cheeks.



M, conversationally to the audience as she begins to paddle her daughter just as thoroughly: Doesn't she have a whore's ass, just made for spanking?



It’s obvious—and inspiring and arousing—to everyone involved that M loves punishing her daughter, and isn't holding back at all. The paddle snaps around efficiently for a good ten minutes, with only short breaks in which M pulls the plug all the way out only to ram it back in to a yowl and a single moment's easily-suppressed struggle; strokes her pussy and tells her what a dirty nasty bitch in heat she is for how wet she is and how she probably wants every person in this room to fuck her (even more) senseless; squeezes her throat powerfully; and finally, snaps the clamps free so that the stinging, enormous nipples can be tweaked and twisted more easily.



When she’s done, she pulls the gag free and tells D to get cracking and D slides obediently off her mother's lap and crouches at her feet with her scarlet ass pointed towards the audience and kisses her feet and thanks her prettily and obediently. Then she presses her cheek down on the floor so a pump can rest on top of her head and pushes her ass up completely, her back arching beautifully.



H, laughing heartily: I can just see the difference post-paddling! I must say you've done an excellent job, although I am slightly disappointed at not getting to see any action over my podium.



M: I wouldn’t be too disappointed if I were you, H. There’s a surprise in store for you. Although first–but only if you think we have time, because I notice our slot’s about to end–



H, twinkling: I’ll get on the wrong side of Taylor Swift if I have to, although I’m not sure she’d mind looking on, no one else seems to.



M: Well, that’s very flattering, H. In that case, how about another poll? You guys can decide whether I deliver the final and (wiggling her eyebrows) most painful part of the punishment or not and this bimbo (she pushes D over easily with her foot so that she lies dazedly on her back with her legs spread instead) won’t even know what’s about to hit her.



At this, a spark of life seems to come back into D. She struggles into a sitting position and gazes out into the audience beseechingly. D: Oh, please!



H, with the air of a food critic commenting on an exquisite soup: I love how cracked her voice gets.



M: Oh, you’ll have the chance to get her throat nice and sore soon. She locks her long, lovely legs loosely around her daughter’s throat, just holding her in place as she runs her fingers through her hair. No one’s going to take mercy on you. They can’t wait to see how much worse it can get for you.



While this is going on, every member of the audience has been looking at their phones for the first time all night and feverishly tapping away. There’s a ping as the results are finalised. M opens her own phone and makes a sound of obvious delight.



M: Oh darling, 99.3% of the people here want to make sure you’re really put in your place. Aren’t you happy they care so much about you?



D, mewling, more submissive now than pained or defeated: Yes, Mommy.



M, getting to her feet: Congratulations, you get to sit tight on your punished ass now. And because you’re such a bad girl, I’m just going to do you a favor here and tie you up so you can’t move and force me to have to punish you more.



D, standing and placing herself down gingerly: Thank you, Mommy.



M, slapping her idly: Back fuckhole on the edge, front fuckhole out and exposed. She spreads the labia open deftly and taps the clitoris hard in warning.

D obeys mutely, scooting over and spreading her legs as wide as they go. She allows her mother to cuff her wrists behind her back and tie her knees apart in such a way that her pussy is open to every eye.

M: Let’s see if she’s still wet first. She dips a finger past her walls, and D squirms and flushes as she obviously clenches as the finger and then two fingers, scissor furiously. The fingers are withdrawn with a sound of deep disgust. Maybe she needs a volunteer to fuck her.



The audience clamors.



D, desperately: Oh Mommy, I’ve never been fucked by a complete stranger before.



M ignores her and turns to raise an eyebrow at H.



H: Unfortunately, we won’t be able to do that at this time, as I’m a little afraid we might get a stampede on our hands.



M: Oh, well. She shrugs. Don’t worry, don’t forget you still have a show to go.



At this juncture, a staff member brings out an ottoman and a small flogger with several tails as well as some extra lengths of rope. M sits on the ottoman and angles herself just right.



M, to her whimpering, trembling daughter: What do you do now?



D: Count and thank you.



M cups her pussy again. M: Now, do you want this to be happening to you?



D: No, Mommy.



M: That’s hard to believe but good to hear. Now, why is it happening to you anyway?



D, softly but audibly as she gets manhandled: Because I’m your bitch. I’m your slut and whore and cunt to pass around to discipline and use as you see fit. I can sit here wanting you not to spank my sensitive, needy little pussy as much as I want but you’re going to do it and I’m going to thank you, and it’s going to be like that as long as you please.



M, smiling like a shark: That’s right. Then she lifts her hand up and brings it down with a resounding smack. The whole room seems to wince as D does.



D: One, thank you, Mommy!



M spanks her pussy again. And again and again and again. When she’s gotten her red, swollen folds swatted expertly twenty times in a row, M pinches her clitoris expectantly.



Through the haze of pain, it takes D several seconds to gasp out her response. D: Please use the flogger on my pussy now, Mommy.



M releases her and picks up the biting little instrument. It swishes sharply through the air. M can’t resist targeting her nipples with it for a few moments but no one seems to be complaining. When she raises the flogger to hit the pussy, however, she looks sideways at the audience slyly. M: What do you think? Too much?



NO! comes the roar.



M: Hmm, I’m going to need a little more motivation.



So D gets her pussy whipped to a chant of “Whip her! Spank her! Keep going! The slut can take it! Make her take it, what’s she gonna do? You heard her, she’s yours!”



D, once her pussy has been soundly punished: I know you couldn’t hear me thanking you over all that noise, Mommy. (Chanting to a deadly quiet auditorium) One, thank you, Mommy, two, thank you, Mommy.



For her pains, M picks the paddle up and gives her a couple of pops with that too, because her daughter deserves every kind of pain. When she’s done, D crawls slowly, agonisingly over to H on all fours, the flogger hitting her ass all the way.



D: Please may I suck your co-cock, Mr H?



M explains the history of D’s blowjob punishments as H, after slapping her squarely across the face, gets up and leads her back to the chair at the front by a nipple and forces her to her knees. He unzips his suit pants, releasing a huge erect cock that brushes against D’s cringeing tearstricken face.



M: See, I’d known for a while that I had to do something about her mouth because it was the source of so many of our problems. Then her stepfather was really convenient because he was right on hand, not related to her but in a position of authority, complaining a bit that he barely got to participate in her punishments, and she hated him, which made it all the more humiliating. It’s just so satisfying to see her mouth get stuffed with the cock of someone she’s always thought she was better than. And he was really good too, nice and rough. Of course her technique is terrible because she’s brainless, so he got me to start doing more than supervising. She wraps her hand around her daughter’s hair, and forces her mouth down on the cock. She holds D there as she splutters, tears falling down her face. Her tender nipples scrape against the fabric of H’s pants.



M: It was always a great way for us to connect. He got to fuck both her other holes too, of course, which I’m afraid we don’t have time for. My role in those situations was somewhat limited to making her thank me for her punishment fucking with every thrust. She pulls D back and lets her get in a few breaths before starting to work her mouth steadily up and down. H is looking down at D like she’s a toy he can’t believe he had the luck to take for a spin. For many years, I didn’t get to date much although sometimes if I’d been on a few dates with a guy and she’d been particularly naughty, I got to surprise her. She sighs reminiscently.



M: But that just wasn’t regular enough for me. I like having control. And so I bought a box of dildoes, attached a few to walls around the house and close family, friends, the dentist’s and so on, for easy-access sucking, attached a few to chairs and kept some around to play around with. What I love about dildoes is that they get as big as you want, so she never really gets used to it. And then I started dating women and married my now-wife and I can tell you she loves doing the fucking! She’s made an art of it, my colleagues warmed to her pretty quickly when she gave D a good long pounding right on the pool table at New Year’s Eve when she wouldn’t call her Mommy, too. Women don’t come fast enough for D to be able to withstand the pressure, and I think that was the huge double-dildo, wasn’t it, baby? She maneuvers the head to bob up and down on the cock.



M, mockingly: Oh look, she's saying yes. You should’ve seen her crawling around calling her Mommy after every sentence afterwards. And you wouldn't believe how much she hates eating pussy for Sunday morning breakfast, the selfish whore when she gets so much attention on hers.



The blowjob over, D sits back on her heels and faces the audience, in the throes of humiliated, unwanted submission. D: Thank you for my punishment, Mommy. It was just what I needed.



H: Oh, that does make her sound even sorer, how nice.



M: We’ll get you group fucked by the audience next show after the book is done, don’t worry.



D mewls.



M: A few of your teachers did offer first, but let’s see which one your other mommy thinks we should go with.



D, her thighs pressing together, without waiting to be prompted: Mommy’s Bitch comes out June 17th! Preorder now on Amazon and 10 random orders get tickets to stay with us for a week.



M: And participate in all her punishments. 40 others get updates and pictures every time she's punished!


The last thing the audience sees is a well-chastised daughter walking off stage after Mommy, still nude and flushed and bruising all over, at the end of the leash that now connects to the clamps that have been reattached to her pussy lips. In her mouth she holds the paddle.

[Melissaj15]

wow loved this story