The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Her Mother’s Daughter

By Writer345

4. Quickstep — Sammie and I dance to someone else’s tune.

Milly had given me a set of hand written instructions and three bottles of something or other. I sat back and read through the notes...

The blue bottle, first of all. The notes said ‘odourless and tasteless’, I was to add all of this this to her breakfast tomorrow morning and then stand by. The larger brown bottle would keep her tranquillized until Friday morning which was her birthday all I had to do was administer regular doses. Finally the Green bottle was to be administered on Saturday morning when she was recovering.

I read and reread everything but I must admit that I was none the wiser afterwards. It didn’t matter though because I trusted Milly implicitly. Deep down I knew that she would take care of everything even though being around her was a bit like being on a helter-skelter... I seemed to be spinning around in a circle while sliding ever downwards to an unknown destination—it was fun—it was exhilarating—it was where wanted to go... Wasn’t it?... Well wasn’t it? Samantha would love it too wouldn’t she? It was clear that she was unhappy as a heterosexual, which is why she took her frustrations out on me. Milly and Maud had both explained this too me... Oh, they’d taken a long time to do so and Milly’s gentle, soothing voice had made me feel sleepy and very relaxed.

My daughter’s transformation into a submissive lesbian would be the best for both of us. Why hadn’t I realised this before? Oh. silly old me. There didn’t need to be anything more between us and we would both be happier once she was gay.

The next morning I added the liquid to Sammie’s fruit juice, breakfast cereal and tea. She stomped in glared at me and ate breakfast as usual. I decided to lighten the sullen atmosphere as my daughter was about to experience such monumental changes.

“Darling.” I said. “I’ve been thinking. Life would be easier if you had your own car...” I got no further because she jumped up and threw her arms around me.

“Oh, mummy, thank you!” I got a big kiss, the first for months.

“We’ll go and have a look at a few on Saturday and we’ll see about proper driving lessons at the same time.”

She finished her breakfast and we were out of the door on time for the first time in months. The normal sullen journey was replaced by one filled with happy chattering as I listened to the whole gamut from the new car and driving lessons (“Won’t Linnie be jealous?") to her spotty boyfriend (“Alan will think this is wonderful.") I listened patiently. In a way, I was glad that I was seeing the old Sammie in a happy mood: it made me look forward to always seeing her like that. In fact I was so overwhelmed that I clean forgot to mention our lottery win.

I dropped her off at college and made my way back home where I made myself a coffee and sat by my mobile and waited. It rang at half past ten, or rather it played a happy little tune. I answered it. It was the college: could I come and pick up my daughter as she had been taken ill with tummy trouble. I said that I was on my way, picked up the blanket that I’d put ready and drove off to get her.

When I got to her college, I hardly recognised Sammie: her normally pale skin was chalk-white and cold-clammy. She was both shivering and sweating. “Oh, mommy, please take me home.”

I wrapped her up in the blanket and did precisely that. When I got her home, I put her straight to bed with a hot water bottle. Oh I was the caring Mother which was not an act: I loved her and really did care for her: seeing her lying in bed like that, poisoned by the very drug that I was administering really tore at me. What right did I have to change the direction of my baby’s life so drastically? I hardened my heart. I was not destroying her life, Iwas stopping her from doing it herself. The downward spiral of hatred and rebellion would surely by the end of both of us.

And that was it: I had the distinct impression that Milly was playing a tune and both Sammie and I were dancing to it. However I did not care as I now realised that this was something that, deep down, I had always wanted.

Sammie remained in bed, neither asleep nor awake, I helped her to the toilet when she needed it and dried her off afterwards. She ate sparingly, and only the foods that the notes said she should have: in other words nothing that produces a lot of waste. She seemed contented to doze so I left her too it.

Early that afternoon, Maud came around to see me: Maud with her short hair and mannish clothes; neither of which appealed to me. She looked in on Sammie, who smiled at her.

“Cat, I never realised just how beautiful she is: I could become envious, you know.” She gasped before leading me into my own bedroom. She took the lead, as usual, and we cuddled for a bit: except for my intimacy with Milly, this was the nearest that I had come to sex for sometime. Maud was a hefty lady, twenty or so years older than I am, which I think that I have already mentioned.

Maud is a fantastic kisser, which is one of the reasons why I was happy to spend time with her. I started to undress, but she stopped me. “That’s not the reason that I called round, old girl.” She said.

“I was mystified. “Oh?”

“You’ve always claimed not to be into BDSM, yet here you are; about to take on the responsibility of a sex-slave.” She stated with authority.

Her words cut into me, and quite frankly I was shocked. “Sex slave? And what do you mean, ‘BDSM’? I don’t even know what the letters stand for,” I protested.

Maud gave me a knowing smile, climbed off my bed and walked over to my dressing table where she picked up one of my lipsticks and wrote a ‘B’, a ‘D’, an ‘S’ and an ‘M’ on my mirror in large maroon letters. She picked up a peach lipstick and used it to draw a ring around the ‘B’ and ‘D’.

“Right, pay attention,” she said in her best ‘Consultant’s’ voice. I sat up and she continued. “B and D stand for Bondage and Discipline: one of the pair takes charge and fulfils the needs of the other by restricting their movements and/or controls what they do—the discipline comes in the form of physical punishment if they do not reach the standards that you require.”

I breathed out loudly: this was a surprise to me. “But I would never hurt Sammie, its not what I’m into.” I was adamant.

Maud pulled a pained face. “Really? What if she needs it? What if she asks you to spank her? What if she is in to it? You haven’t thought it through, have you?”

When I didn’t answer, she carried on and used a bright red lipstick to draw a circle around the ‘D’ and the ‘S’. “D and S, of cause stand for dominance and submission. You will have to dominate her and keep on doing it: this in turn will force her to submit and keep her submissive. Its the basis of the normal Mistress-Slave relationship. The mistress gets off by dominating the slave while the slave gets off by being dominated by her mistress. Its a dynamic process and you are going to have to keep on top of her if you hope to be her Dom.”

She must have seen the surprise on my face change to shock for she smiled knowingly. “The Dom-Sub relationship is very rewarding to both parties if done properly: a good Dom can control several Subs at the same time and can get them to compete for their Mistress’s attention and control.”

“I—I, never thought of it like that.” I must have sounded uncertain because Maud’s smile took on a predatory quality; almost a leer.

Lastly she picked up a very dark lipstick and circled the ‘S’ and ‘M’. “These are sadism and masochism: I’m really not into them: but you might have to be. What if Sammie wants you to actually hurt her? What if she needs it? Will you be able to supply what is essential to her?”

I must have looked panic-stricken because her predatory expression became appraising when I asked. “Oh, Maud, what am I to do?”

She sat by me and placed a comforting arm around my shoulders. “Just do your best. Experiment: find out what you both actually need and take it from there. Remember at all times that you own her. Get her a dog collar and insist that she always wears it. Get the lead as well and use it to emphasise that she is less than you are by leading her around the house naked and on all-fours. Things like that: if you start off very hard, you can slacken off later and that’s much easier than the other way around.

“Go to a good sex-shop and buy the usual corrective aids, paddles are good, I’ll advise you if you like.” her voice purred at me reassuringly so I snuggled up to her and she fondled my breasts to comfort me.

“Oh my darling Cat. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll happily buy her from you. If that doesn’t appeal; I could take you on as a matched pair of subs and we could all have a lot of fun from that.” Her voice was very casual, but there was a slight tremor that told me that she was getting aroused by the possibility.

She had given me a lot to think about and she seemed determined to unsettle me. Oh her voice was very reasonable as she added. “Remember Cat, keeping a human being as a pet is a big responsibility and a lot of work. As your closest friend, I’m just offering you a possible way out.”

When she left a short time later, I was in an emotional turmoil. I’d bitten off more than I could chew, I was going to make a mess of things and knew it! I was in this state of shock for about twenty minutes until it suddenly dawned upon me that Maud, bless her, had got completely the wrong idea.

I laughed quietly—just because she was into BMDS, or whatever it was, she naturally assumed that I was too. I chuckled to myself and went to look in on Sammie and was rewarded with a brilliant smile. I checked. No she didn’t need anything, so I left her to doze. Half way down the stairs, reality threw a bucket of ice-cold water over me—What if Sammie turned out to be into that sort of thing?

The door bell rang and broke my reverie. When I answered it, I came face to face with Sammie’s ‘boyfriend’—the redoubtable Alan. I smiled at him and asked what he wanted.

He asked to see Sammie, now there was a surprise! I explained that she was recovering slowly, but that the doctor had advised ‘no visitors’. He looked surprised and stood there as if he expected me to change my mind.

“But, she’s my girlfriend. You’ve got to let me see her!” He said hauling himself up to his full 5′10″ and stepping forward menacingly. He was now so close that I could tell what he’d had for diner by the spots on his hoody.

I stood my ground and smiled at him and he glared back threateningly, Never the less he stopped his advance, clearly confused that I hadn’t run away in terror. Next I leaned casually against the door frame and folded my arms.

“Sam’s told me all about you!” He said emphasising the final word.

I looked him in the eye and tried not to recoil at his breath. “Oh really? That’s nice, dear, however she hard ever mentions you.” Well that was true because she rarely spoke to me.

“I love her and she loves me!” He snapped defiantly, then tried to be nasty by adding. “She’s told me exactly what you are.“

“What? She’s told you that I’m her Mother? I would have thought that you could have worked that out for your self young, err, man.” He was very amateur when it came to being nasty whereas I had been insulted by an expert on a daily basis for years. He just wasn’t very good at it.

His little fists balled in frustration showing that he wanted to apply the normal young-male approach to an obstruction. But did he dare hit his girlfriend’s mother? I was gambling that he would be unsure of Sammie’s response if he did. His aggression changed to confusion and he took a couple of steps backwards and tried a different approach.

“We do love each other and plan to get married.” He almost pleaded.

I let my expression change to one of sympathy as I nodded an acknowledgement. Then I frowned and enquired. “But can you support and provide for her?”

He looked surprised, clearly his planning hadn’t gone that far as yet. “I—I’m going to look for a job.” He added uncertainly.

“Will you even be able to satisfy her?” I enquired rather nastily.

He looked at me in surprise, girlfriend’s mothers do not know anything about sex because the younger generation had invented it. “Well I’ve had no complaints from your daughter!” He replied proudly.

Oh you silly little boy—checkmate! I thought triumphantly. Then using my best sympathetic tone said. “Never mind, Alan. Samantha isn’t very experienced, is she?“

His mouth opened and closed as he did a very good goldfish expression. What could he say? To agree would make him look silly and to disagree would insult Sammie. After a few incoherent sounds, he shut up and tried to think—something else that he hadn’t had much practice in doing.

I carried on my attack: I’d already noticed his greasy, dandruff-flecked hair and collar. “Alan, isn’t hair cream out of fashion, these days?”

He seemed to freeze and stare at me open mouthed. “I don’t use...” He managed to utter before losing the power of speech. His receding chin begun quiver more than a little as he took another step backwards.

Finally I complemented him on his extensive collection of zits, spots and blackheads and was not surprised when he almost burst into tears before running away.

After he had gone, the smell of stale tobacco smoke and male antiperspirant lingered in the hall for several hours. Ah, the fragrant essence of adolescent masculinity! I failed to see the attraction when I was that age and frankly, still don’t.. Neither do I understand the common male-held belief that antiperspirant armpit spray is the same as bathing and removes all need for any form of personal hygiene.

Chuckling to myself, I closed the door and then made a pot of tea.