Catching Mommy: Daughter Domme
Summary:
An 18-year-old makes her Mom her submissive.
Note 1:
A great, big, super thanks goes to great Estragon for his dedicated copy-editing.
Note 2:
Another thanks goes to Goamz86, LaRascasse and MAB7991 for plot suggestions.
Note 3:
Lastly, a thank you to all my readers who voted, and left comments for this story so far.
Note 4:
Because two of the characters are English I will sometimes use English words like arse (for ass...it sounds so much dirtier), knickers (for panties...which also somehow sounds naughtier), shag (for fuck...I just imagine the English accent and get wet), slag (for slut...which I think sounds so much worse), snog (for kiss...which I find hard to say with a straight face) and bugger (for fuck...also makes sex sound dirtier).
Catching Up! A crash course reminder of what happened previously in the Catching Mommy series
:
Part 1: A Shocking Secret:
An 18-year-old English girl transplanted to Boston, Victoria, stays home sick one day and accidentally learns that her proud, dignified, lawyer Mom is a submissive lesbian to another 18-year-old girl. To make matters worse her Mom's Mistress is none other than Victoria's arch-enemy. (Don't deny it, if you are a female you had one in high school too!!!)
Part 2: Blackmailing a MILF:
Shocked by Olivia's attack on her mother and her disgusting attitude, Victoria decides to get revenge by blackmailing her arch-enemy's Mother and making her a lesbian sub. (They say revenge is a dish best served sweaty and hot!!!)
Part 3: Creating a Good Pet:
Victoria announces to her Mom she is a lesbian, as she begins to set up her Mother for the inevitable seduction. Meanwhile, her Mom begins her own plan to seduce her daughter. Lastly, Victoria continues the training of her new pet...her arch-enemy's mother and her own mother's Mistress.
Catching Mommy: Daughter Domme
I arrived home and was disappointed to see Mom was not home yet, even though that was her usual norm.
I texted Mom, asking if she would be home for supper and she texted back she would be home around 6:30. I quickly texted back that I would make supper. I poured some wine, trying to assist my mother in her seduction of me.
Supper was made and everything was ready when Mom got home a few minutes late.
As she closed the door, she called out, "Sorry, honey, traffic was a bitch."
"No problem Mom," I called back, walking out of the kitchen and giving her a glass of wine.
"Oh my," she smiled, "how did you know?"
"Call it a hunch," I shrugged.
She took the wine. "You always have great hunches."
I agreed. "I am pretty much perfect."
"Yes, you are," Mom laughed, flipping out of her heels, giving me a good look at her perfectly manicured stocking-clad toes.
I looked down, attempting to be obvious, before looking back up. "Hungry?"
"Famished," she replied, moving towards the kitchen.
I ordered, my tone just slightly authoritative, "Sit down, Mommy. I am here to serve you tonight." The innuendo was as obvious as humanly possible.
I could tell her head was spinning as her face went slightly flushed. She sat down with a slight wince.
"You ok?" I asked, knowing exactly why she winced; obviously the butt plug was still in her arse.
I brought her a plate and topped up her wine, which she had already had half finished.
"Thank you, my dear," Mom graciously said.
"Anything for my Mommy," I countered, my hand lingering briefly on her shoulder.
I sat across from her and we ate and chatted about work and school. It wasn't till we were having dessert, both on our third, very full, glass of wine, that Mom opened the door to my seduction. "So, did you see that girl today?"
"What girl?" I asked, playing dumb.
"That Olivia girl," she replied, pretending she had no idea who Olivia was.
"Yes," I admitted.
"Did she say anything to you?" she asked.
"No, but she gave me a really smug look. It was really strange, as if she knew something," I said, playing my Mom as she tried to play me.
"That is strange," Mom replied, her facial expression giving away that she knew exactly why Olivia looked so smug.
"I know," I said. "Half of me wants to punch her in the face, the other half wants to have her sit on my face."
Mom gasped, "Victoria!"
"Sorry," I shrugged," this wine is shutting down my inhibitions, it seems."
Mom laughed, "Well, you are an adult now, I guess I should start treating you as one."
Standing up and walking to her, I said, "Thanks Mom." I grabbed her hand and pulled her up. "You clearly need a foot massage."
"Always," she answered, now looking me in the eyes. I could see her trepidation, her eagerness to push along with her task given by her Mistress, yet I could also see her insecurity.
I pulled her along to the couch and playfully pushed her on the couch, before falling on top of her, my left hand landing firmly on her breast. She let out a loud yelp as the plug in her ass reached new depths as I stammered, pretending it was an accident, "S-s-s-sorry, Mom."
"It was an accident," Mom smiled back, clearly not embarrassed by being felt up by her daughter.
"Of course it was," I agreed, even though my tone was playfully saying the opposite, as I moved beside her. I took her stocking-clad foot in my hand and began massaging it. As I did, I pretended to ask for advice. "So Mom, how would you deal with my situation?"
Mom was quiet for a bit before she answered. "Well, you need to talk to her one on one. You need to confront her about how she has treated you in the past and how it makes you feel. "
"I have to admit that her treating me like a slag somehow makes me want to snog with her?" I asked incredulously.
"Well, I wouldn't start with that." Mom smiled. "But only by accepting who you are and what makes you tick will you find true happiness."
"Mom have you been reading Chinese fortune cookies?" I quipped.
"I am serious," she said, determined to make her point, even though I knew she was really rationalizing to herself how she became the lesbian slag she had become. "It has taken me many years to accept who I am and what makes me tick."
"And what is that?" I questioned, as my hand began massaging her calf.
Her face went red, as she answered, "That is not the point."
"Mom, if I am going to be honest with you, then I need you to be honest back," I argued.
"But I am your mother," she rationalized.
"And I am your daughter. We are all the family we have, there should be no secrets," I countered.
A long silence lingered as I continued to massage her calf. Finally, she said, "Honey, the truth will surprise you."
"More than me telling you I think I am a dyke?"