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From: Doug <angel03@charter.net>
Subject: Re:  Her Son's Girlfriend -  F/f, BDSM
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NNTP-Posting-Date: Fri, 28 Oct 2005 07:46:13 MST
Date: Fri, 28 Oct 2005 10:55:39 -0400

===================

Here's another one...

On Wed, 22 Jun 2005 09:51:54 -0400, Arnold Smith wrote:

> A young girl is taught the ways of sexual submission by her own
> boyfriend's mother.
> 
> 
> 
> Cheryl picked up the phone absently.
> 
> Hello, is this Cheryl?
> 
> Cheryl’s heart skipped a beat, recognizing the voice.
> 
> "This is Cheryl," she said.
> 
> "This is Mrs. Foster," the voice said.
> 
> "Uh, hi, Mrs. Foster," she said.
> 
> Cheryl, I’d like to see you this morning, if you don’t mind.
> 
> Cheryl’s stomach twisted and turned. "Uhm, why?" she asked.
> 
> "It’s something I’d like to discuss in private, if you don’t mind.
> Can you walk over now? It shouldn’t take long."
> 
> Well, uhm, I have to work later.
> 
> "This won’t take that long," she said firmly.
> 
> "Well, uhm, okay," Cheryl said helplessly.
> 
> What could she know, Cheryl thought frantically. Had she found
> something she had left behind? But no, she’d been very careful to grab
> her underwear as well as her clothes. Could she possibly know that she
> and Matt – but how could she? Matt wouldn’t have told her! Maybe it was
> something else entirely, something about Matt. Surely he wasn’t sick?!
> 
> She was dressed much as she had been the other day, in jeans and
> tank top as she hurried down the street towards Matt’s house. But her
> stomach was churning as she ran through the possibilities of why Mrs.
> 
> Foster wanted to see her. Surely she hadn’t seen her there under the
> bed the other day!? The thought of that was so horrifying it stopped
> Cheryl dead.
> 
> But no, if she had noticed her then she and her husband would have
> stopped doing what they were doing. They wouldn’t have carried on like
> that knowing she was watching. And she’d been blindfolded almost the
> whole time. How could she have seen anything? No, it must be something
> else, something to do with Matt. Maybe she had spotted her clothes
> there when she’d seen Matt out, and then thought she had left or… maybe
> Matt really was sick?
> 
> The thought of facing Mrs. Foster, though, after what she’d seen
> the other day, was daunting. How could she ever look her in the eye
> after what she’d seen – and heard!? Somehow she would have to manage.
> 
> She was very nervous and anxious as she arrived, and knocked
> somewhat timidly on the door. She planned for a hundred possibilities,
> even though some didn’t bear thinking on, and only hoped it would be
> something small, some silly little thing which most people would have
> simply told her about on the phone. It was only because Mrs. Foster was
> so - .
> 
> The door opened and she stiffened. "Uhm, hi," she said.
> 
> "Come in, Cheryl," Mrs. Foster said, her face and voice giving
> nothing away.
> 
> Cheryl stepped in nervously.
> 
> Come with me, please.
> 
> Cheryl followed her diffidently, amazed as they reached the
> basement and started down.
> 
> Uhm, is this about Matt? He’s all right, isn’t he?
> 
> "Matt is fine," Mrs. Foster said over her shoulder.
> 
> The basement was large and finished in oak paneling. There was a
> plasma screen TV at one end, and leather chairs and a sofa around it.
> 
> "We had a little get-together for some of our intimate friends last
> night," Mrs. Foster said.
> 
> Uhm, oh?
> 
> "We were showing a little home video we made. Our friends, these
> friends, at least, appreciate that kind of thing. They make home
> videos, too."
> 
> "Videos?" she asked, entirely confused now.
> 
> Yes, take a look.
> 
> With that she picked up a remote control and pointed it at the big
> screen TV. Cheryl gaped at the sight of Mrs. Foster, naked – or more or
> less so, wearing just a halter and blindfold. It was clearly taken in
> her bedroom, and, as Cheryl stared in shock, clearly was from the
> previous day. The camera had been sitting in the far corner, and she
> could see Mrs. Foster crawling across the floor to Mr. Foster’s feet.
> 
> And then, to her utter horror, because the camera was low, she
> could see past them to the bed, and see herself squirming closer to the
> edge to watch. The blood left her face and she felt the room swimming
> around as she saw herself staring, noted that her body – her naked body
> – could be clearly seen, and then watched herself beginning to
> masturbate.
> 
> "Let me zoom in for you," Mrs. Foster said, adjusting the controls.
> 
> The camera zoomed in towards the bed, and now Cheryl filled the big
> screen TV, her body, in all its glory, wriggling, her chest heaving,
> her eyes wide as she began to finger herself.
> 
> "Turn it off!" she blurted in horror.
> 
> But we haven’t gotten to the best part yet.
> 
> Mrs. Foster fast-forwarded, then stopped, and Cheryl saw herself on
> her knees, raising her bottom, very obviously masturbating as she
> ground her hips back against her fingers. Her face looked glazed, her
> jaw open as she thrust her fingers into her own pussy.
> 
> Desperate, Cheryl turned to leave, and Mrs. Foster grabbed her
> wrist, yanking her back, swinging her around hard so she sat down –
> hard, on the sofa, then slapped her face.
> 
> Cheryl gasped, her head rocked back.
> 
> "How dare you!?" Mrs. Foster demanded, face angry.
> 
> I-I-I - .
> 
> You sneaking little peeping tom!
> 
> "I-I wasn’t! I mean, I didn’t mean to!" Cheryl cried.
> 
> Another slap to the side of her face rocked her head back, and she
> gasped in pain.
> 
> "You didn’t mean to watch my husband and myself in a private,
> intimate moment?! You moved up to get a better look, you little slut!
> And then masturbated while you were staring!"
> 
> Cheryl’s face was burning with humiliation, and she could not
> possibly think of what to say. And when Mrs. Foster slapped her face
> yet again she simply rocked back in the chair, gasping.
> 
> "I will leave aside what you doing in there naked," Mrs. Foster
> growled. "Obviously you were fucking my son."
> 
> She moved in closer and leaned over to the stunned, horrified girl.
> 
> "I think your parents and I need to have a little talk," she said.
> 
> "About safe sex, peeping toms, and privacy. Maybe this little video
> would be worth a thousand words."
> 
> "You can’t!" Cheryl cried, shocked at the very thought of her
> parents hearing what she’d done, unable to even imagine them seeing her
> like – that.
> 
> "You don’t think you need to be punished for what you did?" Mrs.
> Foster demanded.
> 
> But there was something in her stern voice, and something in her
> dark, penetrating gaze, something which made Cheryl’s churning stomach
> twitch and jerk in a new direction.
> 
> P-Punished?
> 
> "Don’t you think I deserve to punish a nasty, dirty little girl who
> spied on me when I was making love with my husband? A nasty little girl
> who fingered her little pussy to a come while she watched me?"
> 
> The words hit Cheryl hard, driving her even deeper into shame and
> humiliation. But they did something else, too, they opened a small
> door. No, they opened the possibility of a small door into – something
> else.
> 
> "Y-You could punish me," she said in a shaking, quivering voice.
> 
> What did she mean by that! What would Mrs. Foster do? God! What
> could she do?! What if Matt found out!? What - .
> 
> Take off your clothes.
> 
> The words hammered into her and she gaped up at the woman, who
> glowered back down.
> 
> I-I don’t - .
> 
> "I think the best way to punish a nasty little girl is a bare
> bottom spanking," Mrs. Foster said.
> 
> Cheryl’s eyebrows nearly climbed past her hairline. Given the
> nature of what she had seen the other night it seemed likely to her
> that Mrs. Foster was proposing more than mere punishment. But surely
> she wouldn’t! Surely Cheryl was mistaken! But what else could she do
> and - .
> 
> Now!
> 
> I-I – you want me to - .
> 
> Again Mrs. Foster slapped her face, and Cheryl gasped in pain,
> rocked back in the chair.
> 
> "I could go no slapping your face, I suppose, but Matt might notice
> the bruises."
> 
> Cheryl gaped at her.
> 
> Stand up. Stand up!
> 
> Cheryl stood shakily as Mrs. Foster, shorter than her, looked her
> up and down.
> 
> Strip.
> 
> Numbly, face flaming, she peeled her tank-top up and off. Her mind
> was reeling with the immensity of what was happening, with the frantic
> search for a way out, and for what really was going on, what the woman
> intended. She undid her jeans and pushed them reluctantly down, then
> kicked off her shoes and stepped out of them, standing up very
> nervously in front of the woman.
> 
> "The underwear too, dear. I’ve seen everything you’ve got already,
> you know, just like you’ve seen everything I’ve got. We girls have no
> secrets from each other."
> 
> Cheryl blushed even deeper, if that was possible, as she removed
> her top, then cringed as she pushed her thong down and off. She stood
> up, naked, hands half covering herself until Mrs. Foster slapped them
> away.
> 
> "So this is what my son is fucking, is it?" she asked harshly.
> 
> She moved slowly around the trembling girl, then gripped her hands
> and impatiently lifted them up.
> 
> Put your hands behind your head. Now!
> 
> Cheryl didn’t have time to think, to make any kind of decision
> about what to do, how to respond, and so she obeyed, gulping in air as
> the woman looked her up and down.
> 
> "Nice breasts," the woman said, running her hand casually over
> Cheryl’s taut breasts so that Cheryl felt another jolt of confusion and
> embarrassment.
> 
> "Though not as good as mine. Nice little ass on you, too. My
> husband thought it was nice but I guess I didn’t really notice before."
> 
> Cheryl yelped as the woman slapped her bottom
> 
> "Bend over the chair," Mrs. Foster ordered.
> 
> She turned the girl abruptly and thrust her against the back of a
> large, heavy leather chair, then pushed against her back so that she
> bent forward.
> 
> "Extend your hands. Grab the front of the seat," the woman said as
> she moved around her.
> 
> Dazed, her frantic mind fluttering like a bird in a cage and still
> unable to catch up to the speed of events, Cheryl bent forward, further
> and further over the back of the chair, until she could grasp the front
> of the seat. Mrs. Foster was in front of her there and she looked up at
> her as the woman bent over. She had a leather strap in her hands, and
> as Cheryl stared, she slipped it around her wrists, and yanked it
> together.
> 
> "Wha-what are you doing!?" Cheryl gasped.
> 
> Mrs. Foster snorted. "This is what you were watching. This is what
> turned you on. If you watched me you deserve to feel it yourself."
> 
> B-but - .
> 
> Mrs. Foster tugged on the strap, and led the other end over the
> edge of the seat and down the front part of the sofa, and there she
> managed to strap or tie it in place somehow. When she stood up Cheryl
> found her wrists strapped tightly in place. She stared at them in
> disbelief, pulling feebly against the leather.
> 
> The woman moved around behind her and Cheryl’s face continued to
> burn with fresh fire, knowing just how shamefully and obscenely open
> she must be. Then she felt a leather strap go around her right ankle,
> and a moment later it was bound in place at the side of the chair. Then
> her right ankle met a similar fate, and she was locked tightly in
> place, her bottom raised and her legs spread.
> 
> "Now for your general information, little girl," Mrs. Foster said,
> "I don’t generally allow my husband to treat me like that. I’d lost a
> bet, you see. And so I had to take what was coming to me. It was
> embarrassing, but at least I thought we were in private, my husband and
> I. I didn’t know a slutty little girl was staring and rubbing her
> pussy."
> 
> Cheryl gasped as she felt the woman’s hand cup her sex and squeeze.
> 
> "D-don’t!" she cried.
> 
> "Oh I’m going to do a lot more than that, Cheryl dear," Mrs. Foster
> growled.
> 
> She moved away briefly, and Cheryl pulled at the straps testingly,
> her mind still spinning. This was wrong, all wrong! But what was she
> supposed to do? It was in her nature to do as she was ordered by
> adults, especially people like Mrs. Foster. And there was no arguing
> she had done a terrible thing, a humiliating thing for which there was
> simply no defense, no argument, no way to plead innocence or offer
> excuses.
> 
> But this was wrong! And yet how could she argue against it? She was
> thoroughly intimidated and shocked and mortified, helpless before the
> strong-willed older woman’s stern and angry behaviour.
> 
> The woman came back, and stood beside the chair, then reached under
> and cupped one of Cheryl’s breasts.
> 
> Don’t!
> 
> "Why not? This is what my son is fondling and groping, isn’t it?
> This is what he sucks on? Does he pinch your little nipples, Cheryl?
> Does he lick and bite them?"
> 
> The shock and humiliation kept hammering at the girl, and then she
> cried out in pain, twisting and pulling against the straps as Mrs.
> Foster took her hand away and left – something – a kind of clamp which
> bit and pinched at her nipple terribly.
> 
> "Oww! Ohhh! Stop! Take it off!" she cried.
> 
> "But you have to get the whole feel of what was going on, Cheryl,
> dear. It turned you on to watch it when it was happening to me, after
> all."
> 
> And as she spoke Mrs. Foster moved to the other side of the big
> chair and snapped a second clamp on her other nipple. Again Cheryl
> squealed and jerked and twisted helplessly, but realized almost at once
> now that the more she moved the more they hurt. Looking down she saw
> that the two small clamps had inch long chains attached, and small
> weights hung from them, weights which dangled and twisted and pulled as
> she moved.
> 
> I’m going to punish you by making you feel the same pain I did,
> Mrs. Foster said, which sort of sounded almost reasonable to a mind as
> frantic and confused as Cheryl’s.
> 
> And yet it was wrong, all the same, for even as dazed as she was
> Cheryl could sense the sexual backdrop to what Mrs. Foster was doing,
> and suspected this was not mere punishment.
> 
> Her eyes went wide and she gasped, her head twisting around to try
> and see behind her as she felt – something – rubbing up and down
> against her sex. Then it began to push into her body.
> 
> What are you doing!? Stop it!
> 
> Don’t worry, dear, you’ll probably like this.
> 
> "Oh! Oh! Don’t!" the wide-eyed girl cried as she felt her sex lips
> parted, felt something cool and solid sliding deeper into her pussy.
> 
> It felt hard and yet – soft, was round and thick and – and it began
> to buzz and shake, and she realized abruptly that it was a vibrator.
> 
> "You have a nice, tight little cunt," Mrs. Foster said casually. "I
> bet Matt likes it. Do you know how to use it? Are you a good bed
> partner for my son?"
> 
> How could Cheryl even think of answering such questions! She could only
> gasp and tremble and moan low in her throat as the buzzing thing was
> thrust deeper into her sex, almost to the very bottom.
> 
> Oh! Stop! It’s too deep!
> 
> "Nonsense. You just have to get used to it. My husband has a very
> long cock. I bet Matt does too. You wouldn’t refuse to let him get it
> all inside you, would you."
> 
> With that she slapped Cheryl’s bottom hard, and thrust the vibrator
> forward, giving it an upward twist as she did. The nose of the vibrator
> seemed to grind past some sort of obstruction, and then she felt
> something curved and thin against the mouth of her sex. It was like a
> little curving arm at the base of the vibrator which hooked onto the
> outside of her sex, right over the top, or really, now, in her present
> position, the bottom – right where her clit was.
> 
> "There, you’ve got the whole thing in your tight little pussy
> now," Mrs. Foster said, her open hand rubbing against the base of the
> vibrator, demonstrating that it was flush with Cheryl’s tightly
> clinging sex lips.
> 
> Now for this little hole.
> 
> And again Cheryl felt a hammer blow to her psyche as something
> pressed against her anal opening. She knew there was no point in
> protesting, but she did anyway, and was ignored, as she’d expected, as
> another round something pushed in and out of her anal opening. It
> seemed to be slick and slippery, and each time the woman pushed it
> deeper. She knew it was a dildo, just like the one Mrs. Foster had had
> in her own bottom the other day.
> 
> She slumped weakly, helplessly, submissively, knowing she could do
> nothing, her mind still throbbing and spinning with confusion and
> shocked indecision.
> 
> And – something more. For despite the horrific embarrassment there
> was something perversely exciting about this now, something she had
> been feeling in the background almost since she had stripped and Mrs.
> Foster had first touched her, something which was now growing and
> becoming more noticeable. She was starting to feel less and less like a
> girl being punished and more like this was a sexual assault, like Mrs.
> Foster was doing lewd and obscene things to her for her own pleasure.
> 
> And as the woman worked the dildo deeper into her bottom, slapping
> her buttocks from time to time when her sphincter clamped down too
> hard, she became more convinced of that. She still didn’t know what to
> do about it, though, or what to say. She was far too intimidated to
> challenge the woman no matter what she did.
> 
> And then, when the dildo was jammed deep, so that cramps rippled
> through her abdomen, the woman came around to the front of the chair
> and sat down on the coffee table facing her.
> 
> "Let’s talk, little girl," the woman said, her eyes stern.
> 
> Cheryl gaped at her.
> 
> I-I don’t - .
> 
> Then I will talk and you will listen.
> 
> Mrs. Foster reached in and flicked her fingers against one of the
> weights dangling from Cheryl’s nipples, and she gasped in pain.
> 
> "My husband and I have a very special relationship," Mrs. Foster
> said. "It is a loving relationship which takes into account that both
> of us are very strong-willed and dominant individuals, and that we both
> have a particular interest in bondage and sadomasochism. That means we
> have sex not just with each other but with other people."
> 
> Cheryl didn’t want to hear this, not at all!
> 
> "We have been married for almost twenty joyful, happy years, unlike
> most couples, and we are far from bored with each other. Our sex life
> is incredible, and a major reason why we continue to enjoy each other
> so much. We would like our son to have an equally pleasant and
> enjoyable sex life. So we have an interest in who he is sleeping with."
> 
> She reached forward again, for Cheryl’s head was sort of hanging
> down, her face on her extended arms, and with a fistful of hair, lifted
> her head upwards until they were face to face. It hurt, but not that
> much. It was the casualness with which the woman simply grasped her
> hair and pulled which sent another shock through the girl.
> 
> So I ask again, are you good in bed?
> 
> Cheryl stared at her, gasping, panting, and then cried out weakly
> as the woman tugged harder, more sharply on her hair.
> 
> I asked a question, little girl.
> 
> "I-I don’t know!" Cheryl cried.
> 
> Well, maybe we should find out.
> 
> The woman let her head go and Cheryl grunted as her face dropped
> onto her arms. Then she moved away, going behind her. She disappeared
> for a minute, and when she came back she was wearing a strange looking
> contraption which shocked Cheryl yet again.
> 
> It was a cock, a long, fat, very realistic looking erect cock,
> complete with balls, and it was strapped somehow to Mrs. Foster’s
> groin. Her naked groin, for the woman was now otherwise naked, her full
> breasts jiggling slightly as she moved, her pierced nipples very
> obviously erect.
> 
> The woman reached down and twisted a long length of Cheryl’s hair
> around her hand and then lifted her head up again. This had the effect
> of pulling up on her scalp and almost instinctively causing her mouth
> to open. The woman pushed the "head" of the dildo in through it and
> 
> Cheryl’s eyes bulged.
> 
> "Let me see how you perform fellatio on my son," Mrs. Foster said.
> 
> The woman was insane! And a pervert!
> 
> Cheryl could not twist her head away, and could not speak, and when
> she did nothing the woman slapped her dangling breast hard enough to
> sting.
> 
> "Suck. Show me how you perform," she demanded.
> 
> Helplessly, Cheryl closed her lips and began to suck.
> 
> "That’s it, little girl, at least you can do that much. Suck that
> cock," Mrs. Foster ordered.
> 
> Cheryl could only moan in response. And then the woman began to
> pump the dildo in and out in slow movements. She did that several
> times, and then slapped at Cheryl’s breast again.
> 
> "Don’t you know anything?" she demanded. "You suck especially hard
> as it withdraws, and lick it and let your mouth ease up a bit as it
> pushes forward. Don’t fight it as it comes through, idiot."
> 
> Cheryl’s scalp hurt, stinging as the woman continued to hold her
> head up by the hair, but she ignored it as she tried desperately to do
> as the woman wanted, to suck harder when the cock withdrew. But now the
> dildo, which seemed to be filled with some kind of jell to soften it,
> was pushing deeper, and she had to fight not to gag.
> The woman slapped her breast again, and Cheryl squealed around the
> dildo in her mouth.
> 
> "Are you telling me you don’t even deep throat!?" she asked in an
> incredulous voice. "What kind of a useless little slut are you anyway?
> I can’t believe my son would even date a girl who didn’t know how to
> deep throat him."
> 
> She pulled the dildo back entirely and Cheryl cried out as she
> lifted her head up and back so that she was staring far up into the
> standing woman’s glaring face. "You listen to me, you selfish, lazy
> little slut. My son deserves to have a woman who puts the effort into
> learning how to deep throat. I won’t tolerate anything less. You are
> going to learn how to deep throat a man or my son is going to find
> another girlfriend."
> 
> From the ebook Her Son's Girlfriend - by Argus. Argus novels have been
> published by Nexus, Olympia, Beeline, Silver Moon, Star, and Chimera.
> His ebooks can be downloaded at <http://www.ebookblue.com>
> Come and see our free drawing galleries.

    

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