I am a 40 year old typical soccer mom who leads a pretty conventional life. My stories are based on my fantasies. Most deal with the humiliation of older women by younger women, in the style of my favorite authors such as Cowgirl, Couture, Phoenix Arrow and Jane Parks. This is my first story I hope you enjoy it. I'm working on further chapters, and I'd enjoy any constructive criticism.
I'd like to thank my friend Kate for her help with this chapter. She wrote a hot chapter and sent it to me. I changed a few pieces around to better fit into my story, and added the part after the shaving scene. Thanks for your help Kate.
Chapter 4:
Heather, the girl on reception looked at me a little strangely as I exited the elevator by the front desk. Like many technology companies the lobby was sparse and futuristic – all metal and glass. The red haired girl looked very out of place lounging on a black leather sofa. Seeing me she stood and walked towards me. Barely out of her teens, she had red hair which cascaded down her back. A stretchy black mini skirt, continued down with black and purpled striped panty hose to heavy black boots. The top half was much the same. Thick black eye liner and a short crop top with, "fuck the world", written in white across it. Three inches of pale skin were revealed below, along with a pierced naval. I knew her; she worked at the bar, "Lace". I flushed red at the thought – finally! Then I was horribly embarrassed. Heather looked on in confusion.
Seeing my blush, the redhead grinned at me with amusement as she handed me gilt edged envelop. "She says, to the letter, or not at all!'" The red haired girl laughed and strode out of the building. I stood staring at the letter before me. It was addressed to "Mommy." Heading back to the elevator I was thinking hard. The letter lay on my desk. It was from her, I knew it. I was half fearful, half excited to open it. I pondered and my mind went back over the last few weeks.
It had all started when I had called into "Lace" in the early afternoon to buy cigarettes. That same red haired girl had served me before I had been chatted up and forced to serve a dancer at the bar called Princess. I looked at the hard facts. That's the way it was – I had gone in there looking for something, not knowing what it was, and had found a need I never thought I had. Me, a well respected business professional, as well as a mother with two kids almost grown and a loving husband. It doesn't make any sense, but god I had cum so hard and I knew I wanted it again, each time with her. She used and abused me, but god I wanted it...no I needed it again.
And now this ... at work ... in front of Heather in the outer office. There the envelop lay. All sorts of feelings ran through me, before I had the courage to open it and read. The contents made me blush to my roots. I sat and thought, "I can't do that! Not ever!", but in my heart of hearts I knew I would – and I didn't have much time – three days, 10:30 on Friday night. A very busy time at "Lace". That was deliberate, I knew it.
Although I'm attractive, I know that I'm no longer stunning. At 41 and with two teenage kids I'm no longer in my first flush, but still I feel I'm striking, a few too many extra pounds, but not bad. But this Friday night I feel a tart. Even in my younger days I wouldn't have worn this! I wobbled into "Lace" in my newly bought 5 inch patent heals. My toes were pinching mercilessly.
Even changing into this get up had been horrible. Waiting for everyone at the office to leave and then changing in the toilets and making a dash for my car hoping I wasn't spotted. I had my thick overcoat on. I hoped I could hide in it. I pushed to the bar and spoke the line I had been told. "I'm here to see my Princess," I said, not loudly to the girl serving drinks. A small smile crossed her lips.
"I'm sorry – it's loud in here. I didn't hear."
Louder I spoke again,"I'm here to see my Princess." The guys waiting at the bar looked at me interestedly and I started to go red. The girl looked at me again and shook her head cupping her hand to her ear. Shouting over the music again I cried, "I'm here to see ... my princess." As I said the last words the music ended and everyone close heard them. The men close by looked at me and smirked.
The girl behind the bar seemed to at last understand. "Yes, ok, I will be right back," and she disappeared into the back room. Standing nervously at the bar I looked around. To my horror I saw that serving at the far end of the bar was a girl I recognized. It was Stacy, she used to baby-sit my girls when they were younger. She must be about 20 years old right now. I remembered it didn't end well with her; I had to fire her, as I caught her sneaking her boyfriend over my place one night. I shivered thinking how I cursed her out, and the names I called her. I turned the other way, hoping she wouldn't see me in this place dressed like this.
I tried to hide from her as the first barmaid returned. She called over to me, "I'm to take your coat. You are to buy a bottle of our best champagne and sit over there." She pointed to an empty corner with a 'reserved' sign on the table. I ordered the champagne and the girl waited, with a small grin on her face as I slowly took off my coat and passed it over the bar.
The men close by looked me over. Oh! I felt such a fool. I just wanted to die. I looked like a tart. I was dressed in a "little red dress". Low cut at the front so that my large breasts were almost falling out of it and the short hem barely hiding my stocking tops – and those stockings! Black fishnets! Gathering what dignity I could find I tottered on those cursed heals over to the reserved table hoping for a little privacy. I knew I couldn't wear this dress. My plump middle pushed out I looked pregnant - or so I thought.
My champagne arrived – in an ice bucket with two glasses. To my shame the waitress that brought it was Stacy, my former baby-sitter. She set down the bucket and glasses and turned to me to ask if I needed her to pour it, then she recognized me, and her mouth dropped. She didn't say anything, but the look on her face said it all, that sneering smile on her face made me want to melt into the seat. Oh the shame of it. She just shook her head and walked back to the bar.
I sat there for a further 45 minutes, sipping at champagne. In that time no less that four men had come up to me and asked if the second glass was for them. Each time I had sent them away with a flea in their ear, but each time I felt the shame of being a tart ... and I knew I was one. I was Princess' tart and she was making sure I knew it. At last the red haired girl came to fetch me. She led me by the hand to the elevator and pushed me into it. "Go on. She is waiting."
The door opened and there was my Princess standing looking at me by the big desk. She smiled. "Come here, let me look at you!" My heart skipped a beat as I went forward obediently and stood before her. "Turn around!" her voice was cold. I did so. I stood under her gaze and that of the burly bouncer, Joe. "Good, now pay Joe and don't forget his tip! You do recall how payment was to be made?" I nodded blushing scarlet with embarrassment. I stood before the desk and slowly pulled up the hem of my short dress. The tops of the fishnets were revealed along with a matching fishnet thong – it covered nothing but pushed down the front of it was $600, a tight roll of $20 bills. Joe leaned forward and pulled the roll from my thong.
I felt like the dirtiest whore alive. He ran his fingers along the outer bill and sniffed at it. His fingers came away damp and I knew that Princess had made me sit for almost an hour with those bills between my legs just for this moment. Joe carefully took the top 5 bills from the roll, including the wet one and set them aside before counting the rest and putting it into the till. Princess looked at me and smiled. "Well who's a good mommy? Now follow me! Leave your dress round your waist it suits you, but on all fours! And crawl to the room I have prepared!" I left my dress pulled up, dropped to my knees and followed obediently.
The room my Princess; for that is how I thought of her now, led me to, was a different one than before. It had a leather sofa and other chairs and a glass coffee table. The table had lights inside it so that the glass surface lit up. I crawled in and looked up at Princess getting a proper look at her for the first time. She was wearing black leather calf boots, a short leather skirt and a baby pink crop top. From the way her nipples played against the fabric I could tell she wasn't wearing a bra.
"Stand up! Let me look at you," she commanded. I did as she asked; knowing I had no choice, wobbling as I stood on those cursed heals. My dress was still round my waist as she walked casually round me in her heals (bitch!). "My, my, how far we have fallen. You are my whore now – willingly dressing as a slut just to get to see me. What are you?"
"I'm your whore", I whispered.
"Not good enough! Louder you fat sow!"
"I'm your whore, Princess," I said firmly, knowing it to be true and hating myself for admitting it.
"Better, but what are we going to do about this?" She pointed to where my pubes were sticking out from the tiny fishnet thong.
"Stand on the table you fat bitch!" She pulled aside an ashtray and a heavy looking book so there was room for me to stand on the glass surface. Obediently, I stepped up onto the table and to my shame found that the lights inside it shone upwards, lighting my legs and crotch. Princess pulled something from a bag by the sofa and a soft buzzing came to my ears as she turned the device on. She approached me and I saw that she was holding a small set of electric clippers, with a head less than an inch wide. Smiling she caught the waist band of my thong and pressed it into the blades of the clippers. The motors struggled for a moment before cutting it through. Quickly, she cut my thong on the other side and the ruins fell to the surface of the table. "Spread you feet, slut!" I shuffled my feet apart about 1 foot. "More, or am I going to have to send you home early?" I obeyed. My feet were more than 2 feet apart. The light was shining up from below, illuminating everything and princess was grinning, her face a foot from my crotch. I was so embarrassed as I could tell I was already fully lubricated.
She started to shave me. My blonde pubes fell in locks to the coffee table. In front she left just a thin vertical strip that she trimmed down little more than fuzz. "On all fours and spread your knees," she ordered. What else could I do? She started to shave my labia and to my shame I was dripping freely. Finishing, I felt her wipe her finger between my lips. It must have been covered in my juices, as indeed it was when she pushed the finger under my nose. "Who's a horny, fat sow of a whore then?"
"I am princess."
"I'm sorry I didn't hear that."
"I'm a horny, fat sow and your whore my Princess." How could I even utter those words? She pushed her finger towards my mouth which I sucked greedily.
Princess looked down at the clippings of pubic hair lying on the table. "Look at all of that wet hair; you have more hair than a gorilla. My, my, what to do with this disgusting mess – oh, I know," a wicked gleam came into her eye. She picked up a pinch of hair and walked round in front of me. "Open, tongue out!" Knowing I had now choice I did as she asked. She dropped the pubes into my mouth and over my tongue. "Now swallow!" I took them into my month and rolled them into a ball. Very unpleasant it felt. "I'm waiting! Swallow them!" I did so and almost gagged. I spluttered as the spiked ball of hair went down my throat. I had barely time to recover before she was holding another load of hair before me. With reluctance I took a second mouthful and choked it down. Princess had a third and hopefully final handful before my face when there was a knock at the door.
"Enter." Princess shouted and in walked the young bar maid, Stacy, the girl who used to baby-sit for my daughters. "I've brought up the lady's champagne – and also, she's going to need to sign this release form."
Princess took the form, and folded it, so just the signature part was visible; placed it in front of me then said, "Just sign this, I'll explain my little surprise to you in a minute." I shivered inside wondering exactly what it was I was signing, but by this point I was too sexed up to even ask.
