The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Package Deal”

mc md mf ff in

Synopsis: A single mother gets a strange new boyfriend.

My name is Karen, and I’m a slave. I should start by telling you what I look like.

That’s how these stories go, right? Well, let’s see. I’m 37 years old, I’m five foot six, I have black hair, thick and full-bodied hair that I’ve always been proud of. Brown eyes and a pale complexion—I’ve had men tell me that they like the contrast of my dark hair and pale skin. Dimples. Strong cheekbones. A rosebud mouth. Nice, even teeth, and a big smile. In other words, I am good looking.

And yes, I have nice big tits. How big? Well, I don’t want to brag or anything, but men notice them. When it’s sometimes hard to find a bra and you have to say “my eyes are up here” and you can’t run on the beach too fast in your bikini and you have to quit ballet once you hit puberty and you have to be careful about what blouse-and-jacket combo you wear in the office, well, you have nice tits. Nice and big and round and bouncy with lots of cleavage. They’re matched with a pretty narrow waist and child-bearing hips and a nice round ass, the proverbial hourglass figure. I’m very fuckable. I could be modest about it, but what for?

As I said above, I’m 37 years old, so I’m no spring chicken. But I take care of myself. I have found sports bras that do fit those big tits I mentioned above, so I go to the gym. My stomach is still pretty flat and toned, which I like to think is due to my exercise and my habit of eating chicken salad and fruit for lunch instead of meatball subs or something. So no, my ass and my tits aren’t as firm as they were when I was 18, and I don’t look like I did when I was 18 anymore, but dammit, I look fucking hot for 37.

But you know who DOES look like I did when I was 18? My daughter Jennifer, who is 18.

OK, you can probably guess where this story is going. But let’s try and enjoy the journey.

Her hair is brown-to-sandy-brown while mine is black. Her eyes are hazel. And her hair is wavy (not curly, but wavy) while mine has always been perfectly straight. Her nose is a little bit pointier like her father’s while mine is a button nose. And her boobs are actually a little bit bigger than mine are, big like my mother’s were, big like heaven only knows how many women in our family history. She’s pretty damn sexy as well. Plus she’s in the flower of her hotness at age 18. I used to get a little jealous sometimes—sure, I still turned lots of heads, but I remember what it was like to be her age and able to wrap men around my finger.

My childhood was pretty unremarkable; I was the only child of a father and mother who got married and produced an offspring quite late in their reproductive cycles. I had really good grades and easily earned admission to my local state university. I was the picture of a hard-working kid, joining clubs, working part-time jobs, generally doing everything right—well, except for how slutty I was.

Hey, at least I admit it. The point is, I was mattress dancing long before the time frame of this story. I lost my virginity when I was 13 and I spent high school enjoying sex. A lot. Sometimes I made the boys wear condoms. Sometimes I didn’t bother. Right after I graduated from high school, the not-bothering caught up with me. Nine months after finally not dodging a bullet, I had Jennifer. This should be a sad story, a cautionary tale, but as it turns out, I really liked being a mom.

My parents definitely helped matters a whole bunch. They were super-understanding, and despite the fact that they were closing in on retirement age themselves (like I said, I had an old mom and dad), they helped take care of Jennifer while I went to school. So with them backing me up, my single-mom story turned out better than most of those stories do. It took a little longer than it otherwise might have, but eventually I got my degree in Business Administration. I missed out on a lot of the typical college experience, because most freshmen don’t have to go home to nurse. And I certainly found out pretty quick that most young college men didn’t want to start serious relationships with a girl who had a baby attached, even with girls as good-looking as I was. (Have I mentioned that I was hot?)

But really, it was fine. I loved my little girl, and I was happy. I realized that I didn’t need a man. I needed sex from time to time, but when you are a good-looking woman and all you want is sex, then you’re not going to have a problem getting it. I was perfectly OK with my choices and how my life turned out. And, as I said above, I loved my little girl. Jennifer grew up into an awesome young woman and I was very proud of her. Life was good.

As I’ve mentioned, my parents were old. By the time Jennifer was 16 they had both passed away of natural causes. I had a few aunts and uncles but I wasn’t really that close to them; essentially Jennifer and I were alone together in the world. I felt like I needed a change, and I wound up taking an office admin job with a prestigious San Diego law firm. We moved, and we loved it. I made a good salary and had the occasional nooner with married partners in the firm. Jennifer entered her senior year of high school, turned 18, and got accepted to UCLA. It was a perfectly pleasant Southern California existence.

Everything might have been different if I’d bought a house right off the bat, but I decided to rent for a while, so we got an apartment. It was a pretty nice two-bedroom place in a relatively upscale complex that had a gym (gotta keep that stomach flat!), a pool, and a tennis court. Jennifer and I liked to sunbathe at the pool. I for one liked it when men stole a peek at my boobs. My daughter didn’t—she was nowhere near the slut I was—but I did.

So it didn’t strike me as odd when one cool, delightful San Diego evening, I saw the man looking at me while I lay back in the lawn chair in my swimsuit. He wasn’t dressed for swimming; he had a T-shirt and jeans and he looked perfectly ordinary. I can’t emphasize “ordinary” enough. I wouldn’t say he was handsome, but he wasn’t unattractive. He was of average height and weight for an adult white male in his mid-thirties. He had an ordinary head of brown hair, which hadn’t started receding yet. He wore glasses, which were practically his only distinguishing feature, but even the glasses were ordinary. He was reading some kind of history book—World War II, I think. He looked like the Platonic ideal of “average white guy.” Picture in your mind, oh, the evening shift manager at an Applebee’s. That’s him.

I was at the pool by myself that evening, as Jennifer was back in the apartment studying for her AP exams. When Bob got up from his lawn chair, walked over, and sat in the chair next to me, I thought that my being alone was probably what gave him the nerve to approach me. Boy was I wrong.

“Hi, I’m Bob.”

“Hi, I’m Karen.” I had an original instinct to close my eyes as a signal for him to go away. Instead, I flashed him a smile.

“Nice to meet you. How long have you lived here?”

“Nine months. You?”

“Three months. I see your sister isn’t here with you tonight.”

It was of course an impossibly lame attempt at charm, but goddammit, it worked. I smiled again. “Come on.”

He grinned sheepishly. “OK, your daughter. But you could be sisters, you know. You must have had her very young.”

This was kind of a personal question, and for the briefest moment I was annoyed, but then the moment passed. He was right, after all.

“Yes I sure did. Her name is Jennifer. She’s about to graduate from high school and fly out of the nest.”

“It happens to all of us. How big are those tits of yours?”

For a moment I just gaped at him. Then I started to pull my hand back in order to slap him. Then I stopped. I knew all too well that absolutely every hetero man who meets me glances at my rack within the first thirty seconds of the conversation. What was wrong with a man who just came out and said so?

So I told him my cup size.

“They’re spectacular. You can tell they’re real, too, by how they settle out when you lie down.”

“Yep. The fake ones keep pointing at the sky.”

We talked for a while. I told him about my job and some more about Jennifer—and eventually I found myself telling him basically my whole story, the one I’ve just told to you above. He told me he wasn’t married and that he had “an income” rather than a job, which seemed to me like a pretty sweet deal. He asked for my phone number and I gave it, and then we agreed to meet for coffee the next day.

I came back to the apartment to find Jennifer nose-first in a Biology textbook. Certainly not talking with a boy or constantly posting on Facebook or anything. She never really talked about it, but I think the reason she hardly ever dated was my past. She never blamed me for getting knocked up or anything, and she was well-adjusted despite not having a dad, but I do think she was determined to not follow my example.

“Hi Mom. Done sunbathing?”

“Yep. I met a man who lives here in the complex. Made a date to have coffee with him tomorrow. Is that OK?”

“You’re over 21, right? So it’s OK.”

The next day, Friday, Bob called me and we met that evening at a coffee shop not that far from the apartment complex. I wondered why I was there. He wasn’t unattractive, per se, but he wasn’t attractive either. He was just...average. Usually I was more choosy when picking men.

We talked some more as we sipped on our absurdly overpriced coffee, and then I asked him, “So, would you like to do anything now?”

“Well, I’d like to turn you into a sex slave.”

He said that with a kind of ain’t-I-a-stinker smirk. For the second time in our brief acquaintance, I goggled at him. Then I laughed. It was just so silly. “What?”

“I’d like to turn you into a sex slave.”

“Uh, Bob, I’m not afraid to try different things with a man from time to time, but I’m not into that, sorry.”

“That’s not what I meant. I’m not talking about role play or a kinky fantasy. I’m going to turn you into an actual sex slave.”

Now, you may think that I should have gotten the hell out of there. Or that I should have smushed my now-empty coffee cup into his face and gotten the hell out of there. Nothing like that even occurred to me. The only thing that I could feel was astonishment. This man, this perfectly ordinary man who looked like he’d been created by God to be a substitute teacher, had dreams of being some sort of sexual dominant. I was amazed. I clasped my hands together, rested my chin on my intertwined fingers, and leaned forward. “Really? Tell me more. How are you going to do this?”

“Mind control.”

Now I was scared. This joker hadn’t put a date rape drug in my coffee, had he? I straightened up in my chair. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Don’t be scared, Karen.” And I wasn’t anymore. “I’m talking about mental control, the power of the mind. It’s something I can do. I don’t know how it works or why I can do it and other people can’t. I can control other people’s thoughts and actions by influencing their minds with mine.”

Now I was having to suppress a laugh again. He was obviously a loon, but he was so earnest and pleasant in manner. He could have been telling me about a model train hobby. “Oh really? Well, I don’t really feel like being a sex slave. Can you make me think I’m the Queen of England?”

It was his turn to laugh. At least he was having fun with this. “It doesn’t really work that way. It’s like—breaking a horse. I can influence people, and make them do what I want. If I do it for long enough, often enough, eventually they reach a tipping point, and they become my slave, and then I don’t even have to use my power. My slave will be devoted to serving me and pleasing me and obeying me, and she’ll do it of her own accord.”

I felt like I really wanted a glass of red wine. “OK, then do it.” I looked around. “The barista. Make her, I dunno, throw that cup of coffee against the wall.”

He smiled gently. “I don’t really like to use my power in showy ways like that. Plus it would confuse her and scare her.”

I pointed at him. “I knew it! You’re bullshitting me.”

He smiled again, and raised his hands in a peace-making gesture. “I’m not! It’s totally true! By the way, where you’d buy that bra?” This question and the sudden change of subject threw me off guard. So I told him the truth, that I’d gotten it cheap at Target. Then he said “Can you take it off and give it to me?”

I could feel myself blushing. “What? And flash everyone here?”

“Can’t you take it off without taking your T-shirt off?”

Well, I could. And I did. We got a couple of long looks, but thank Christ we were kind of off in a side corner and neither of the two baristas saw us.

I felt myself breathing heavily. I felt myself getting aroused. “I can’t believe I did that.”

“Thank you for that. Can you give it to me now?”

Blushing even more deeply, I quickly passed it to him under the table. He took it and put it in the pocket of a light leather jacket he was wearing. “Thank you, Karen. We can go now.”

So we did. We’d driven separately to the coffee shop, so as we stood in the parking lot, he said “Can I have a kiss?” and pulled me to him with one hand as he asked. We kissed. A long kiss. With lots of tongue. I felt my tits, now free of bra, crushing up against his chest as he pulled me up against him. I felt myself getting a lot more turned on than I was in the coffee shop. I started thinking—when was the last time I’d had sex? That one partner in the office three months ago? I loved my daughter to death but she did make getting laid complicated...

As my mind was lost in thoughts like this, Bob broke the kiss and pulled away from me. “Thanks, Karen. I had a nice time. I’ll call you soon.”

I was practically panting. All I could say was “See you later, Bob.” And then he left. As I drove home it occurred to me that I was now wearing a tight T-shirt sans bra and it would be very very obvious to anyone who saw, including my daughter, who was at home.

I stepped through the door and, thank fucking God, she was in the kitchen fixing something to eat and didn’t really look at me closely. “Hi Mom. Did you have a nice time with what’s his name?”

“His name is Bob, and yes,” said I, as I motored right past her into the master bedroom and hurriedly changed into another bra. And into another pair of panties, as the one I had on was soaked.

The next morning was Saturday. I was sipping coffee and idly surfing the Internet when Bob called. “Let’s go to the beach!” he said. Well, why not? Bob showed up at the door to the apartment just a few minutes later, as I was putting on makeup. I think Jennifer was a little surprised when I went to the door wearing nothing but a bra above my waist, and let Bob in. I introduced the two of them, and we sat around the living room and chatted for a while, but I could tell that my lack of a shirt was making Jennifer uncomfortable for some reason. For a moment I wondered myself why I’d opened the door without putting something on first, but then I thought that Bob was about to see me at the beach in a bikini anyway, so it hardly mattered.

Bob picked up on Jennifer’s discomfort. “Jennifer, is something bothering you?” he said. Jennifer blushed, said “Well...", and then looked down at her shoes. Bob smiled, and then looked more intently at my daughter. “That’s a lovely blouse,” he said. “Why don’t you undo the buttons?”

She looked shocked. I was pretty shocked too, and for a second I started to get angry at this guy I barely knew, creeping over my 18-year-old daughter—then the feeling went away. Why shouldn’t she open up her blouse? Bob had seen us at the pool in swimsuits, right? Jennifer continued to hesitate, staring right at Bob, her eyes wide open, not even blinking. Then, very slowly, she undid a button to her blouse. Then a second. Then a third, then the rest. I believe she even pulled the blouse open a little bit as her hands fell away. In any case, her blouse was now open, with her deep cleavage and her belly button visible. She stared at Bob a little bit longer, and then she smiled shyly.

I scooted back into the master bedroom and looked for a top. I was reaching for a shirt when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I stopped and took a good look at myself. I might have been closing in on 40, but my boobs still looked great, big and round. I unclasped my bra and threw it in the closet. I then found an old T-shirt that really was way too small for me, one that I’d had for years and had shrunk in the wash. I put it on.

It must have been 25 years since I went out without a bra. That T-shirt left nothing to imagination, especially since my nipples were hard as diamonds. I was feeling horny before I’d even put my socks on.

Jennifer and Bob were sitting at the dinner table talking amicably. If Jennifer had been shy before about dangling her cleavage in front of Bob, she didn’t look like she was now. She was saying something about her college plans when I walked into the room.

Jennifer seemed taken aback by my old T-shirt and the stress test my bra-less tits were putting on it. I swear, I could hear fibers in the shirt snapping one at a time under the strain. After a second she said, “Mom, wouldn’t you rather—”

“Jennifer.” It was Bob, saying her name. Her head turned to him, and her face suddenly had this stunned expression, like she was whacked on her forehead with a bat. She suddenly became very still. “Jennifer,” he said again. “There’s nothing wrong with how your mother’s dressed. It’s OK to dress sexy sometimes.”

She said nothing. Just stared at him. A few more fibers somewhere in my T-shirt broke loose from the strain. Silence. Then she finally said “Yes...yes, you’re right. Sorry, Mom.”

“No problem, sweetie! We’re gonna go now, see you later!”

“OK. Have a fun time you guys!” And with that, Bob and I left.

Soon we were at the beach. Bob pulled into the parking lot. I reached for the handle and said “OK, where’s the beach hut?”

Bob looked at me and smiled and said “Why don’t you change in the car?”

Well, I was shocked at his suggestion that I strip nude in the passenger seat of his car. I looked at him for a second, and then I just felt silly. Why be ashamed of my body? Especially when it’s a body as nice as mine? So I whipped off my too-small T-shirt, which almost seemed to groan with relief as my tits sprang free, and slid my Daisy Duke shorts and panties off my legs. Bob certainly got a nice look at my tits and pussy, and got a nice look at my ass as well as I reached into the back seat for my little two-piece bikini. Bob was already dressed for the beach in a T-shirt and khaki shorts.

Bob had a beach chair for two, which he told me to carry—it seemed the only polite thing to do, really—and we found a nice spot. It was a little cool that morning, so we got under a blanket and snuggled. He ran his hand through my hair as we watched waves hit the beach. It was nice.

As Bob sipped from a bottle of iced coffee, I wondered about his slave delusion. So I decided to ask.

“So, how’s the enslavement going?”

“Pretty well. Still in the early stages.” I rolled my eyes. “No, really. You’re one of the easiest subjects I’ve ever had.”

I smacked his chest. “Hey!”

He laughed. “Don’t be offended. It has nothing to do with intelligence or temperament or, well, anything else that I’ve ever been able to figure out. I’ve had college professors that were easy to control and fast-food cashiers that gave me a headache. You, you’ve been easy to condition. I think you’re a natural slave.”

“Thanks. I think.”

“You’re welcome!” He laughed, and I did too.

We chatted aimlessly for a while as the wind blew and birds circled over the water. I rested my head on his chest and put my arm around him. Then, before I knew it, I found my hand down his shorts.

Really, I didn’t put it there, I found it. One minute we were talking about my job—he asked how much I made, I told him, and he was pretty pleased—and then the next minute I realized that my hand was down his pants and wrapped around his cock. And his cock was getting hard. It was an average-sized dick—smaller than some I’d been with, bigger than others. But it felt nice in my hand. It felt natural. It felt like my hand had been made to hold it.

No one could see because of the blanket. I looked down in surprise, then I looked up at Bob, no doubt with the same surprise on my face. He gave me only that same calm inscrutable smile he always gave me at moments like this. “It’s OK,” he said. “Go ahead.”

So I did. I’ve given plenty of hand jobs in my time. Like I said, I was a slut in high school (you may remember that story about how I got knocked up). So I know my way around a cock. But I’d certainly never given a hand job in a public place in broad daylight before. Yet there I found myself jerking Bob off on a public beach in front of God and everyone. It was under a blanket, sure, but I imagine anyone who watched us could figure out what was going on.

WAS anyone watching us? I let go of his shaft and started toying with his balls while I looked around. There was a family of four off to the left. There were a couple of surfers. There was some yuppie type with his dog. No one seemed to be looking at us. My face flushed deep red as I moved my hand back to his dick. The tip was slick with precum that I used to lubricate his sensitive spot.

He said nothing as I worked on his cock, just continued to stroke my hair and face. But then I felt him starting to tense up, and I knew what I was going to happen. What was I going to do? I couldn’t let him just make a mess in his shorts, could I?

Obviously there was only one thing to do.

Like I said, I know men, so when I could tell he was almost ready I dove under the blanket and took his cock in my mouth. Seconds after I did he came, his hand in my hair tightening into a fist and shoving my head down as he shot his load into my mouth. I swallowed it all.

I couldn’t stay down there forever, not outside in broad daylight, so once I was sure he was finished I popped back up out of the blanket. He gave me a very satisfied smile. “Thank you, Karen.”

“You’re welcome, Bob.” I then turned my head to look out at the beach. The surfers were staring at us. As I snuggled up to him and rested my head on his chest again, with the taste of his cum in my mouth, I realized that I was in love.

It was a lovely morning spent sipping on iced coffees and swimming in the water. Soon enough it was time to go back home. After a quick lunch where everybody in the sandwich shop gawked at my rack—pop, pop, pop went the fibers in that t-shirt—we made it back home. I invited Bob into the apartment, where we found Jennifer on the internet. I told Bob we had bottled water and iced tea in the fridge, and I peeled out of the restricting confines of the t-shirt.

It was not until I saw Jennifer looking at me with a startled expression that I realized I was exposing my breasts to Bob and my daughter together. For a moment, I felt shocked and embarrassed. But then the moment passed and I calmed down. After all, both of them had seen my boobs separately. Goodness knows Jennifer had seen me coming out of a shower or changing clothes or whatnot, and Bob had seen me changing into and out of my bikini just that morning. What was the big deal?

So I went topless at home that afternoon. Actually I went topless at home for the rest of my life, but that’s getting ahead of my story. Anyway, I chose not to put a top on as I offered Bob a glass of iced tea, which he accepted. Then we sat and talked, while I kind of aimlessly touched my nipples. Jennifer just stared at me for a while. Then, once again, and without even seeming to realize she was doing it, she unbuttoned her blouse all the way.

A while later Bob left. But then late that evening he came back. He let himself in—I’d given him the spare key that morning—and found me sitting on the couch watching TV, wearing only my panties. Jennifer had already changed into her pajamas and was brushing her teeth. As she stepped out of the bathroom, toothbrush in mouth, she watched Bob take my hand and, without a word, lead me to the master bedroom.

Now he was going to fuck me. Finally. I was so ready. I’d gotten wet the instant he’d reached out for my hand. Once in the bedroom I shucked off my panties and then sank to my knees. It was quick work undoing Bob’s belt buckle and pulling down his pants. The cock that had felt so good in my mouth that morning sprang out hard, and I took it in my mouth again. Once again it felt so good, so right—it felt even better when I was on my knees like that. I mean, I was horny, and I wanted him to fuck me, but I also felt completely right on my knees as I sucked on Bob. I would have been happy to stay there until he came down my throat again, but that wasn’t what he wanted. A painful tug on my hair let me know he wanted me on my feet. An instant later he literally threw me on my bed. My legs sprang open as if they were spring-loaded.

And then he was on top of me, his weight on my belly, his cock in my pussy as he pounded in and out of me. Oh it was good, it was so good. As I thrashed my head back and forth I saw off to one side that the door to my bedroom was still open. And Jennifer was out there somewhere, either in her room or maybe even at the door, listening.

I’d never done that before. Never had a man over for sex with my daughter at home. Let me tell you, that put a crimp in the lifestyle of a natural slut like me. I’d had office sex on occasion, and I’d come back late from dates, and I’d fucked men in the car, and there was that time she spent three weeks in summer camp—but I’d never picked up a man and brought him home for sex. There are some things you just don’t do. Until that night.

And now Bob was giving it to me good and hard, my tits bouncing back and forth, bed springs squeaking, the thump thump thump of the headboard. God, the neighbors upstairs might be able to hear. Jennifer could definitely hear all of that, as well as hearing me moaning.

I didn’t care. I just didn’t care. It felt so good. I dug my nails into Bob’s back as he fucked me. My first climax came when he leaned forward and bit my ear as he continued to pound my pussy. I think I screamed. I wrapped my legs around his waist, tried to get more open, tried to let him get even deeper even though I don’t know how he could have. Then my second orgasm hit, much stronger, as Bob grunted and filled my slutty cunt up with his cum. This time I know I screamed. Loud.

I blissed out for a while. When I came back to my senses Bob was lying next to me, breathing evenly. I rolled over and snuggled up next to him. Then I realized I’d forgotten something, so I slid down the bed and carefully cleaned his cock of our juices.

I embraced him again and ran my hand over his chest. Then I wondered. “How’s the enslavement going?”

“Oh just fine. Like I said, you’re a natural. You’ll break pretty soon, I think.”

In another setting I might have made fun of him for continuing to play his silly mind control game. But at that moment I just felt so goddamn good after cumming twice that I couldn’t muster up any snark. I settled for idly running my fingers through his relatively modest amount of chest hair.

Everything was very quiet. That no doubt is why I heard what I heard next. Soft sighing coming from Jennifer’s room. Rhythmic uh-uh-uh moans. Another set of bed springs squeaking.

She was masturbating. In the next room. My daughter listened to me being fucked, and then she started masturbating.

Shocked, I turned the other way to look at Bob. He’d rolled over to his side to face me. He just winked.

Uh-uh-uh came the moans from the next room. Uh-uh-uh.

Then faster, uh-uh-uh-uh-uh.

Then finally a single long ragged “uhhhhhhhhhhhhh” and for the first time I heard my daughter climax. Not like my own scream, to be sure.

It was quiet again. Not one peep out of the next bedroom after Jennifer got herself off. After a moment, Bob kissed me, then got up, put his pants on, and left.

* * *

Sunday morning was lazy day. I woke up, brushed my teeth, and padded into the living room. It was when I saw my daughter in her pajamas making a cup of tea that I realized I was still nude. Like I said above, my daughter and I weren’t weird about nudity, but we also didn’t make a habit of parading around the house naked.

At least we never had before. I would never wear clothes at home again, although, like I said, I didn’t know that at the time. Anyway, I walked over to the counter and started brewing a pot of coffee. It certainly felt natural to be naked.

Jennifer looked at me oddly. “Mom, why are you naked?”

Actually I didn’t know the answer to that myself. But I improvised. “I guess I just don’t feel like wearing clothes today. Thought I’d try and see what it’s like to go without them. Does that bother you?”

She took a moment to contemplate. “No, I guess not, you can be naked if you want.” It was obvious that something else was on her mind as well. “Uh, Mom?”

“Yes sweetie?”

“So, uh, I guess you two had sex last night.” She blushed.

“Yes we did, Jennifer. Is that OK?”

Again, the pause to think. “Yeah it’s OK. I mean, you’re a grown-up. Are you two really serious?”

“Yes we are. Pretty serious.”

“OK, good. Mom, I—”

I interrupted her. “I know, honey. I heard you too.”

“Mom, I’m sorry, I just had to.”

“I know.” Then I leaned in and hugged her. She didn’t seem to mind her naked mom pressing up against her. I let her go. “It’s OK, Jennifer. I was 18 once too. I know how it is.”

And that was all we said about it.

* * *

The next day was Monday, and I was back to work. I was in the middle of a meeting when Bob texted me and asked if I had my checkbook. It seemed like a weird question, but I replied that I did. He then told me to meet him in the parking lot.

There he was, right by the front door in a handicapped space. I walked up to him, a little bit mystified. “What’s up?”

“You have your checkbook, right?”

“Yep.”

“Write me a check for a thousand dollars.”

A derisive laugh welled up in me—and died. I looked at him and waited for the “just kidding” confirmation. It never came. He didn’t say anything else, but continued to calmly stare at me.

I tried to walk away, and found that I couldn’t do it.

Then something odd happened. Something that’s hard to describe. It was like everything else in the world went away. Like I couldn’t feel my shoes or the weight of the purse on my shoulder. The sound of cars, the leaves rustling in the wind, the guy 20 feet away who was jabbering into his phone while on a smoke break—all of that went away. I had no sense of self. I couldn’t see Bob, either, except for his face. I could still see his face, looking at me. Staring.

Then that weird sense of disconnection went away. I pulled out my checkbook and wrote Bob a check for a thousand bucks. What the hell, it was only money.

“Thanks, sexy,” said he. Then he pulled me in to him and we engaged in a long, slow French kiss. As usual, I got wet. He stepped back, winked at me, and got in his car—in the passenger seat. The car drove away.

That night he came over and cooked for us. It felt a little weird, him cooking for us, him working in any way for Jennifer and me, but he explained to me that it wasn’t work, he really liked to cook. While he was chopping onions and Jennifer was out of earshot I asked him who was driving him around. He told me that I didn’t need to know that. For a second I felt like insisting on knowing who was giving my boyfriend rides, but then the impulse passed, and I realized that he was right, and it wasn’t important.

We sat for dinner. I was nude, but Jennifer was wearing a loose blouse over bra and panties. Bob appraised her just before digging in.

“Jennifer, that’s a very pretty blouse, but wouldn’t you be more comfortable without it?”

She stared at him for a moment, fork in hand. Then she said “Yes...yes...you’re right.” She then took the blouse off and ate dinner in her bra and panties.

After dinner, Bob took me back into the master bedroom and fucked me. And once again, we heard the soft moans of ecstasy coming from the adjoining bedroom as Jennifer pleasured herself.

* * *

I saw Bob every night that week after work. That is, he came over, the three of us talked for a while, and then he took me in the back and fucked me. On Tuesday Jennifer was actually back in her pajamas (I was nude of course, as I always was at home now), but another word from Bob and she stripped to her underwear again, less reluctantly than she had Monday night. After that, she stopped wearing any other clothes in the apartment.

Jennifer’s masturbation also became part of the routine, an encore after Bob fucked me. She started getting louder when she climaxed. Who knows how long we might have gone on this way, but on Friday night Jennifer went out with friends.

Bob and I took the opportunity—well maybe I shouldn’t say that we took the opportunity, since we’d have fucked or done something else regardless of whether or not Jennifer was home. But as it happens, she wasn’t, and after we drank some wine and watched a movie I knelt down between Bob’s legs and gave him a blowjob. It was the first time I’d sucked Bob off from start to finish, and like I already said, it felt right. It felt good to be on my knees for him, period. It felt especially good to be on my knees in front of the couch, the coffee table pushed out of the way to give me a little more room as I swallowed his prick. I tasted him, I smelled that musky man smell as I sucked him off. It was so good, it was so right.

At the end the thought popped into my head, cum on my face. I’d done a lot of swallowing in my time but I’d never done that, always found it gross frankly, but on that night with Bob I suddenly wanted to. When I could tell he was on the verge, I took my mouth off and started jacking his prick. It was pretty quick as I didn’t have much time to say more than “Please come on me” before the first jet of cum hit my cheek.

And at the exact time that it did, I heard the key in the lock.

I kept going, stroking Bob’s dick as his cum hit me in the forehead, above my right eye, and on my chin. The door swung open as he finished. I turned to my right, and there was Jennifer, only a few feet away from me, purse clutched under her arm, staring at her naked mother with a cum-splattered face, a dick in my hand.

She said one thing—“UGH!"—and ducked back out of the doorway, slamming it shut behind her. I guess it was the shock of seeing her mother be a cumslut, rather than just listening to her mother be a cumslut.

There was silence in the apartment. Then, without saying anything, I wiped the blobs of cum off my face with my fingers and swallowed them. I zipped Bob’s pants back up, sat on his lap, and embraced him.

More silence. Then I finally had the guts to say it. “You’ve done it, haven’t you?”

“Done what?”

“Made me a slave. Enslaved me.”

“Yes honey, I have. You are my slave now.”

Words started coming to me. “I’m a slave. I’m a slave. I’m a sex slave. I’m your slave. I’m your slut.” I paused, and more words came to me. “I’m a bitch. I’m a dumb bitch. I’m your cunt. I’m your dumb whore. I’m your sex toy. You can use me whenever you want.” I rolled those words around and thought about how I felt. Of course, I knew how I felt. I felt very happy. I cried a little bit, tears of joy and happiness. I wiped the tears off and said “Oh I’m sorry. Don’t pay attention to me, sir.” That last part just slipped out.

We snuggled quietly for a while, and then I gathered the nerve to ask him a question. “Sir, are you going to enslave Jennifer too?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Yes I am, Karen. Don’t tell her, though. And don’t tell her that you’re my slave now, don’t call me Master or Sir around her. I want to see how long it will take her to figure it out herself.”

My daughter would be joining me in sex slavery. I felt even happier than before. Then I got curious again—already I knew that I should not be questioning Master like this, but I just couldn’t help it. “Sir, is that why you chose me? Because you saw my daughter and I came along with her?”

He ran his fingers through my hair and kissed my forehead. “Sort of. Not really—I could have conditioned you to not care that your daughter was a sex slave, and left you alone. It was more that you were a set, a package deal. You’re pretty sexy, Karen, but there are a lot of hot women in this town and I have spent the better part of a year searching for a new slave. When I saw the two of you together, a sexy mom and her sexy daughter, and you told me that you didn’t have any other family ties, I decided to take you.”

“Thank you, sir. Thank you.”

So we sat there for a while, me curled up nude in his lap. Bob sat on the couch watching TV while I enjoyed the feeling of physical contact with him. Finally the door opened again. Jennifer just rolled her eyes this time and said “Look, mom, we—”

“Jennifer.” It was Bob. Jennifer quieted instantly. She just stared at him, mouth open, like a switch had been flipped to the OFF position inside her. It was just like the time he first told her to open her blouse. A couple of times her mouth twitched. Her keys and her purse slid out of her arms and hit the floor. Her arms fell limply to her sides. She and Bob continued to maintain eye contact. She even swayed a little bit.

After a moment Bob gave me a nudge and I scooted off of his lap. He took Jennifer by the hand, without saying anything, and together they walked to her room. For a while there was silence. Complete silence. The door was open, and I would have been able to hear if they were talking or they were fucking. But instead, absolute silence. It couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes but it felt like forever. I was dying with curiosity but I knew now that I was a slave and I was not to stick my nose into my Master’s business.

Finally Bob came out and smiled at me. He was holding hands with Jennifer. She was nude. It was the first time she’d been naked in the home with me, much less with Bob. She also looked a little dazed, a little glassy-eyed. She looked at me but didn’t seem quite able to focus, and then she began to speak. “Mom, I...I’m sorry. You’re a...you’re...you’re a grownup and if you want to suck your boyfriend’s dick that’s your business.” She swayed again and for a second I thought she might faint, but then she drew a breath. She spoke again, her voice high in her throat, still not quite focusing on me. “You can...you can fuck as much as you want, it’s OK.” She turned and padded back to her room, bumping the doorway with her shoulder as we went. I heard a soft thump that sounded like Jennifer collapsing on the bed.

I got up and embraced Bob. I felt myself getting wet. Presenting my naked body to him when he was fully dressed was always a turn-on for me, but now, now that I knew that he was going to take Jennifer too—the thought was driving me wild.

I started kissing him and humping his leg. “Did you do that? Are you turning her into a slave already?”

He kissed me back. “I have been for a while. She’s much more resistant than you are.” He must have read a reaction on my face because he said “Don’t take it the wrong way. I told you, it doesn’t have anything to do with intelligence. But it’s true, she’s been much tougher to control than you were, lots more effort. You, you’re just like a natural slut.”

It was true. “Thank you, Master. It’s true. I’ve always been easy.” Less than an hour before he’d painted my face with his cum, but I wanted more. I pawed at his crotch. He pushed me away gently, gave me a friendly kiss, and said “Goodnight.” Then he left. I heard the sound of Jennifer’s soft, regular breathing as she slept in her room. Soon I was asleep in my room as well.

* * *

The next morning found me up early. I felt happy and bubbling, humming to myself as I started the coffee pot. I heard footsteps behind me and turned to see my daughter entering the dining area, just as naked as I was. Like me, she’d be nude at home for the rest of her life, although she didn’t know it yet. Jennifer smiled and wished me a good morning. Her eyes bounced to my tits and to my naked pussy, then she looked down at herself. She grinned at me again and said “I guess we’re a couple of nudists now.” As she reached into the pantry for some cereal she said “So you and Bob must be going pretty good now, huh? I’m sorry I was so weird last night when I came home. I didn’t know you were into facials.”

“I didn’t used to be, but I am now.” Whatever awkwardness she’d felt when she came home last night was definitely gone. For that matter, I would have felt awkward talking about my sex life that graphically with my daughter—but that was before.

As she went to get a bowl she looked at my pussy again. For a moment she studied me, and then she said “Let’s shave.” And just like that she took my hand and literally pulled me into the bathroom. Moments later we were sitting next to each other on the edge of the tub, two ladies’ razors on our pussies, carefully removing all our hair. When we were done she looked at mine and then at hers and then she said “Better.” She kissed me on the cheek, and we went about our day.

* * *

The next few days passed relatively uneventfully. Bob came over every day. In fact, every day I came home to find him talking to Jennifer. I didn’t ask what they were talking about and I still don’t know. What I did know, of course, was that Bob was conditioning her to be a slave like me. He still spent some time with me. One night dinner was followed by Bob fucking me on the living room carpet. Jennifer had gone off to do her homework, and Bob had started playing with my tits, and soon enough I was on my back in the living room as he pounded into me. Eventually I heard Jennifer come back into the living room. Instead of freaking out as she had the last time she’d seen us together, she simply sat down on the couch and watched us. As I arched my back on the carpet and opened my legs even wider for Bob to fuck me deeper I looked over and saw my daughter masturbating. She had one hand on her pussy and another stroking a nipple. It was not a shock to me, of course, since as I’ve already mentioned I’d heard her masturbating after Bob fucked me in the master (ha ha, the Master) bedroom. But this was different. She was in the room with us. She was watching us fuck, for the first time.

I had an incredible climax as I always did with Bob. As I came down from my high he slid out of me and settled down by my side. I had my eyes closed, savoring the feeling, when Bob told me to open them. I did and looked at him, but he turned my head sideways to watch Jennifer. She was just about there, her face flushed red and biting her lip as she diddled her clit. As we watched she climaxed, throwing her head back as a long ragged moan escaped her throat. I cleaned Bob up with my tongue as usual, then he got up and left. I gathered myself up and cleaned myself off in the bathroom. When I returned Jennifer was pouring herself a glass of iced tea.

Friday he again stayed for dinner, although this time I cooked. Besides the fact that Jennifer and I didn’t have any clothes on, it was a perfectly ordinary dinner, with Jennifer talking about her school and her college plans. Well, it wasn’t a completely ordinary dinner, as she started asking me about my favorite sex positions. (Good old missionary, that’s hard to beat.)

Dinner was followed by wine and TV on the couch. After the movie was over I felt a sudden urge to go to bed, which I did, leaving Jennifer and Bob alone. I got out my tablet and started to read, but soon enough I started to hear the soft murmuring coming from the living room, followed by moaning, followed by the sound of flesh on flesh.

My master was fucking my daughter. And by the “yeah yeah yeah oh God” sounds I was hearing he was doing a pretty good job of it. I was filled with curiosity but I knew that my place was in the bedroom and I should not intrude on what was an important moment.

Which was why they intruded on me, of course. Eventually Bob—well, he fuck-walked Jennifer into the bedroom. He looked at me and grinned, but she certainly didn’t notice me, staggering forward as Bob thrust behind her, her eyes closed. He threw her down onto the bed next to me and she rolled over. She spread her legs like a good little whore and he was on top of her in an instant. I lay there, my tablet in my hand, watching as he fucked her. It occurred to me that I’d never seen this from this perspective before; I may be a slut but I’d never watched a porno. But now I was, as I watched my daughter’s big round tits rock back and forth on her chest as Bob fucked her. I watched her dig her nails into his back, as I had. I watched her cross her legs together behind him, as I had, as he pounded away. Eventually her eyes flew open and she looked straight at me as a ragged moan escaped her mouth. Then her eyes rolled back in her head and she climaxed.

As per what was now our ritual, I licked him clean, for the first time tasting Jennifer’s juices rather than my own. Then he got up and left. Jennifer panted for a while, gathering herself. Then to my surprise she rolled over and threw her arm around my waist. “Oh god Mom, is it always that good with him?”

“Yes, yes it is honey. Was that your first time?”

“No.” Well that made me think of a million questions. But I didn’t ask any. Then she fell asleep.

Saturday morning was our day to sleep in. I was making breakfast when Jennifer wandered in. I’d been seeing my daughter nude in the home every day of late but this was the first time I’d seen her nude and freshly fucked. She came over to me and took my hand.

“So Mom, I guess we have the same boyfriend now.”

“So it would seem.”

“Is that OK?”

“Sure. Who better to share a boy with?”

She smiled and hugged me. As I felt her tits mashed up against mine strange thoughts started running through my brain. By the way she started to run her hands up and down my back those same thoughts were going through her mind too. She pulled back a little and looked at me with surprise, then kissed me on the lips. Then, just as I didn’t know what was going to happen, she pulled away from me, smiled, and went to get herself a glass of orange juice.

* * *

Life went on fairly normally after that for a while. That is, as normal as life is for a mother and daughter who have both become nudists and are well aware that they’re both fucking the same man. But it did. Jennifer was finishing off her last weeks of high school and getting college applications ready. I was doing my normal boring everyday routine. Bob was coming over just about every night now, and just about every night, he was fucking one of us. While I was happy that he’d chosen to enslave Jennifer as well I have to admit I was afraid he’d forget about me. Jennifer, as I’ve already mentioned, was an 18-year-old version of me, which meant she was sexy as hell, a girl that men would die to fuck. But Bob was a kind master and spent just about as much time with me as he did with my daughter.

One day I came home from work and found Jennifer in a blonde wig and lingerie while Bob was snapping photos. I watched the whole photo session unfold—it ended with the lingerie gone and Jennifer fucking herself with a dildo on her bed. After she was done Bob asked me to give him a copy of her birth certificate, which I did. I didn’t ask him why, but of course I guessed.

Another evening it was Jennifer’s turn to come in on the two of us. (By this point of course there was no need for her to make herself scarce, but she’s a considerate girl, and she often gave us alone time). She came in with her coffee-shop coffee in hand and found Bob fucking me over the dining room table. I was laying face down on the table, my tits pressing into the wood, as Bob pumped away from behind. His thrusting was causing my feet to leave the ground. My hands aimlessly jerked around the table as I moaned with pleasure. It felt heavenly.

Jennifer smiled at Bob and gave me a wink. She disappeared into her bedroom and came back a moment later, nude as usual. I might not have noticed this as I was focused on the heat in my pussy and the orgasm that was coming at any moment, but Jennifer actually sat down at the table opposite Bob, and right in front of me. She took my hand and clasped it in hers. This drew my attention and I tilted my head back and made eye contact with my daughter. She had an encouraging look on her face.

Bob took this moment to slap my ass, hard. Jennifer followed by squeezing my hand. The feeling was incredible. Bob, without stopping his fucking, slapped my ass again. My daughter squeezed my hand. Slap. Squeeze. Slap. Squeeze. Slap. Squeeze. The whole time, I was looking Jennifer straight in the eye, my pussy flexing, my ass on fire from the pain. Finally my climax came, the best I ever had, making my toes curl and my body clench. I screamed with pleasure as I heard Bob grunting loudly with his own climax right behind me. When I caught my breath Jennifer smiled, gave me a thumbs-up sign, and went off to her bedroom to do homework.

* * *

Another day we were at home, not doing much in particular. Jennifer came out from her room while I was sitting at the dining room table reading a book. She said “Mom, do you think something weird is happening?”

I went on full alert. Had she finally figured it out? Had she been broken? Was she a slave? I strained to keep my face neutral as I said “What do you mean, sweetie?”

She hesitated for a moment and finally said “Well, just look at us. You’re naked. I’m naked.” She looked down at her boobs and then idly lifted them up. Suddenly I was wet. “We didn’t used to walk around the house naked all the time. And we’re fucking the same man. Right in front of each other! Isn’t that weird?”

I put on my most reassuring smile, stood up from my chair, walked over and hugged her. She looked at me with a pleading expression. “Jen, are you unhappy?”

“No. I feel like I SHOULD be unhappy, but I’m not.”

“Does Bob make you happy?”

Her face lit up. “Oh he does. Yes he does.”

“The sex is great, isn’t it.” She smiled and nodded. “And you like to watch him fuck me.” She blushed, then nodded again, shyly.

I pulled her into a close embrace. Her tits mashed up against mine. I wondered if she could feel how wet I’d gotten. “I know things are different around here honey. But I’m happy and you’re happy and nothing else matters.” I curled one leg around hers. Now I knew she could feel my wetness. “Everything is fine.” We looked each other in the eye. I put my hand behind her head and pulled her face in for a kiss. Our lips and tongues danced against each other. We broke the kiss and she stared at me with her mouth open, her face flushed, panting.

This time it was my turn to smile and pull away.

* * *

Finally one Saturday afternoon, while she was reading a book and I was writing down a grocery list, Bob showed up at the front door and said “Time to go, girls.” Somehow I knew that we would never be coming back to our apartment ever again, so I put on that same tight T-shirt and short shorts that I’d worn with Bob to the beach. Jennifer dressed more plainly in a button-up blouse and jeans, although, as I noted approvingly, she was sans bra.

We left with nothing but the clothes on our bodies, never to return. We were surprised to see in the parking lot a gorgeous young woman of Korean ancestry waiting by the car. I pegged her to be probably not quite thirty, about halfway between Jennifer’s age and mine. She was modestly dressed in slacks and a T-shirt. She was maybe five foot five and she was gorgeous, with long, thick black hair, a winning smile, and you guessed it, nice big boobs, surprisingly big for a Korean woman. It was now that I realized Bob had a type.

Our busty chauffeur put out a hand and I shook it. “So glad to finally meet you,” she said, in a California valley girl voice, and from that megawatt smile of hers it was obvious that she meant it. “My name is Monica. We’ve been waiting to see you for a long time.”

Hmm, I thought—we? But Monica offered no further information and we all got in the same row of a roomy SUV, with Bob in the middle, Monica in front behind the wheel. Jennifer seemed a little startled at the introduction of a new face into our mix, and spent the ride mute, apparently content to snuggle up to Bob and rub his crotch. It was up to me to keep the conversation going, and so I was the one who learned that Monica was a photographer who did things like weddings, family portraits, and corporate event photography. Monica said she had been with Bob for a few years, but never said words like “master” or “slave.” Apparently she too had been told not to say the magic words around Jennifer.

We finally pulled up in front of a nice house of moderate size in suburbia. Monica walked ahead while Bob escorted the two of us, one arm around each of our waists. Monica opened the door and stepped inside, where we were met by a smiling naked woman. “Hi, I’m Cathy,” she said. “I’m the housewife. I do the cooking and cleaning and I look after Bob while the other girls are off at work.” Cathy was taller, maybe five foot nine, with wavy strawberry blonde hair and these amazing huge saucer blue eyes, and, yes, another fabulously curvy hourglass figure, tits as big as Jennifer’s, with two small areolas and the cutest pink nipples. I noticed that those nipples were very pointy at the moment. Her pussy, like ours, was shaved. Trailing behind her was another naked woman, with a tanned complexion and chestnut brown hair. She was gorgeous as well, with lovely round boobs that still weren’t as big as mine or Jennifer’s because she was a very small, petite woman, five feet nothing, maybe 90 pounds. “Hi, I’m Sandra. I’m a psychiatrist. I’ve been with Bob longer than anyone else,” said she as we shook her hands, Jennifer doing so rather mechanically. Sandra also had a bare pussy; it was obviously the house style.

Monica whipped off her T-shirt, causing her braless boobs to go bouncy-bouncy in the prettiest way. As she was unbuttoning her jeans she said “Go ahead and leave your clothes in the hall closet here.” My T-shirt and short shorts were off in an instant. I was turning to the closet when I noticed odd looks from our three sister slaves.

They were all staring at Jennifer, who, I realized, was not stripping. Why I don’t know. Maybe it was being in a new place as opposed to getting naked in our apartment. Maybe it was the surprise of finding out that we had three new sisters. Maybe it was the fact that three strangers were going to be seeing her nude. Maybe it was all of the above.

Whatever the reason, my daughter, whom I’d thought to be fully enslaved now even if she hadn’t realized it, was definitely not. She had a look of shock on her face, like she’d woken up in a strange place. She turned on her heel as if to leave—and faced Bob.

Bob looked at her with a face that was calm and patient. “Jennifer,” he said, and that was all. She said nothing, just stared at him, her eyes wide and unblinking. It was just like the other times I’d seen this happen, and, as I now realized, just like the time Bob met me outside of my work. Her mouth hung open. A couple of times she tried to speak but the only thing that came out of her mouth was “uh”, a sort of moan that reminded me of the sounds she made when Bob fucked her. She swayed on her feet and for a moment I thought she might collapse, but she righted herself. Her eyes remained locked on Bob. Her hands, which had been limp at her sides, rose up and met in front of her belly, where they twitched aimlessly. Her mouth trembled.

Then, just when I thought I might have to intervene, she flashed a huge joyful smile, reached up, and ripped her blouse open, buttons popping off in several directions as she whipped the blouse over her head and flung it at her feet. A second later her jeans and panties had joined her blouse on the floor, and right after that she jumped into Bob’s arms and gave him a passionate kiss. Our sister slaves and I clapped and cheered. It was then that, if I may steal a line from a famous author, I knew that Jennifer had won the battle over herself.

Jennifer looked ready to fuck Bob right there in the hallway but he politely disengaged and the whole harem followed him into the dining room. Cathy had set out a lovely fancy dinner for us, with six champagne glasses sitting by six plates. I nearly forgot myself and said something when Jennifer picked up her glass of champagne, but then I realized that decisions like that were no longer up to me. Bob gave the toast, “To us!", and we all clicked glasses.

It was certainly a sight, five naked slaves sitting at dinner with our master in his blue jeans and buttoned shirt. The conversation was casual, with Jennifer being much more chatty than she had been in the car, telling the others about how her senior year had gone. Bob told me that I’d need to cash out my checking account the next morning, and explained that Cathy and Monica would soon be leaving to start packing up our things and bringing over whatever Bob wanted to keep.

Jennifer raised a hand and said “Bob, uh, sir, um, will I still be going to college this fall?”

The impertinence irritated me but Bob showed no irritation at all. “Of course! We need to get you educated so you can get a good job and support the family. Not UCLA, though. You’ll need to get something close to home so you can come home at night. UCSD or San Diego State.” Jennifer smiled happily.

Cathy served dessert, and then dinner was over. Bob stood and said “All right girls, it’s time.” I realized that he was ready to fuck us now. He took mine and Jennifer’s hands and led us into the master (ha!) bedroom while our three sisters followed behind. Jennifer and I climbed into the impressively (and necessarily) wide bed while the other girls undressed Bob, and then he joined us.

Oh it was wonderful. I’d watched him fuck Jennifer and she’d watched him fuck me but the three of us had never done it together. We did now. There was kissing, there was licking, there was sucking. His cock spent time in each of our mouths. I held Jennifer’s boobs together so Bob could fuck them, while she reached up and pulled on my nipples. It was wonderful.

Finally it ended with Jennifer and me on all fours presenting our asses to our lord and master. He fucked me first, the headboard rocking as he pumped in and out of me. Jennifer’s hand clasped mine, just like that time on the dining room table. I had a violent climax and collapsed on the bed.

I think I blissed out but when I came to, Bob was pounding away at Jennifer’s pussy. Just as that time in my bedroom was the first time I’d ever watched a man fuck a woman, this was the first time I’d ever watched a man fuck a woman doggystyle. I saw her tits bounce and sway and I knew how it felt. Jennifer’s eyes were screwed shut, her face a mask of passion, her mouth in an O. She squeezed my hand every time he thrust inside her. Finally she climaxed as well, screaming as Bob grunted and filled her up with cum.

Jennifer crumpled to the bed beside me. Bob took a moment to catch his breath and then got off the bed. It was at that moment I realized that Cathy, Monica, and Sandra had all stood around the bed and watched. Monica knelt in front of Master and carefully, lovingly licked his cock clean. Then they gave him a bathrobe and the four of them left.

Jennifer and I were alone. She snuggled up next to me and I thought she was going to go to sleep. I know I was about to go to sleep, until I felt her hand kneading and caressing my breast. She tweaked my nipple. She ran her hand down my side and over my belly. She began to kiss and nibble my ear.

I knew what she wanted and spread my legs. Her hand glided to between my legs and found my clit. She began to stroke it while continuing to kiss and lick my ear and my neck. Jennifer had my earlobe between her teeth when I climaxed again, not the violent orgasm I’d had with Bob but one that washed over me like a wave. I shuddered and moaned, Jennifer kissed me once on the cheek, and we both relaxed.

After two climaxes in quick succession I would have fallen asleep even quicker if my daughter hadn’t asked me a question.

“We’re slaves, aren’t we?”

Finally. “Yes sweetie, yes we are.”

“We’re his slaves. Bob’s slaves. He owns us, like he owns this bed, like he owns the dinner table. We’re sex toys. We’re his sluts.”

“Yes honey. How does that make you feel?”

A pause. “I feel happy. I feel really good. I feel like I’ve found something, like I belong. I’m going to be owned forever.”

“Me too.”

Another pause, then another question. “Mom, can I call you Karen?

Hadn’t expected that. “Why?”

“I just, well, I kind of don’t feel like you’re my mom any more. We’re both his slaves. He’s our master. You feel like my sister, like the others are my sisters.”

Now I understood. “Well I’ll always be your mom, of course. But you’re right, I’m not in charge of you any more. He is. He’s in charge of both of us. So I guess we’re equal, I guess we are sisters. You can call me whatever you want.”

“OK. Thanks, Karen.” She snuggled up even closer to me, her hand cupping my breast again, but not for sex this time, just to touch.

I had something to say as well. “I’m very happy too, sweetie. Do you know why?”

“Because you’re a slave, I guess. Like me.”

“Yes Jennifer but I wasn’t thinking about that. I never told you, but I was very sad at the thought of you going away to college this fall. You were the center of my life for eighteen years and you were about to go away. Now you aren’t ever going to go away. Now we’ll be together forever, with our Master and our sisters. Now I’ll never lose you.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Karen. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

THE END