The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Her Mother’s Daughter

By Writer345

6. New Beginnings — New Samantha, new Caitlyn.

Saturday dawned wet, not that I was up at dawn however. I opened my bedroom curtains and stared out at the rain pattering down into the front garden and street. Why did it always seem to be raining, or foggy, in Birmingham?

After showering, I selected some of my sexier clothes: skinny jeans and a revealing singlet-style top. Don’t ask me why: it just seemed like a good idea at the time.

I looked in on Samantha and found that she was getting dressed. “Don’t you ever knock?” She demanded irritably.

Yes, my daughter seemed to be back to her normal catty self. “How do you feel, dear?” I asked gently, careful to avoid any escalation. “I’ve been concerned about you, that was a nasty bug that you had.”

Her attitude softened and she turned towards me and smiled a little guiltily. “Yes, well,” there was a pause as she stood there in her bra and panties and just looked at me for several seconds. “I feel much better, mom, thanks for looking after me.”

As I smiled at her I swear that she was looking at my cleavage. “It’s okay darling, take your time I’ll just go and make breakfast.”

As I busied myself in the kitchen I chuckled to myself: yes, she had been transfixed by my tits: or had she? I shook my head. No! I was just imagining it. After all she’s straight and hates me, well doesn’t she? With those thoughts in mind, I added the contents of the green bottle to her fruit juice; just like I had been instructed.

I sniffed the empty bottle then touched my tongue to the neck and just as Milly had said, it was odourless and tasteless. I shrugged and slipped the bottle into a safe place for later disposal. The green bottle would open her mind to the possibility of me becoming more than her mother, or so Milly had assured me. It was, as far as I could make out, a revolutionary mind-altering drug from Forbes Lifechem, where she worked.

Breakfast, when Sammie finally arrived began pleasantly, but began to deteriorate into its normal abusive state as it progressed. I was careful not to be critical of her friends or her pet spotty moron, but even so she became angry when I informed her that they had all called around to see her.

“Why didn’t you let me see them?” She demanded.

“Sammie, you were only semi-conscious when Alan called on Thursday and you were asleep when the girls dropped in last night.” I explained gently.

She glowered at me, but said nothing although she reverted to picking at her breakfast. “What about my birthday present?” She demanded after several minutes of dirty looks and sulking.

“I thought we’d see about driving lessons and talk about getting you your own car.” I said in my best “mommy” voice.

The toast seemed to stop about an inch from her mouth as wide eyed with disbelief she stared open-mouthed at me. “mommy!” She shrieked as she dropped it on her plate, then jumped up and scampered around the table and threw her arms around me. She kissed me on the lips for the first time in years and to say that I was surprised was an understatement. Oh sure, it was not a sexual kiss but it was the first one that she had given me for about four years. I savoured the feeling of her young body pressing against mine; was this a taste of things to come? Was the liquid in the green bottle beginning to weave its biochemical magic?

Suddenly she loosed me and stepped back. She frowned, but it was confused expression and not a nasty one.

“How can you afford it, have you been saving up?”

“I’ve been trying to tell you for a week, but you wouldn’t let me—we’ve won nearly ten million pounds on the lottery. We’re rich, darling!” I said quietly and watched her confusion turn into shock and then into excitement.

Needless to say, Sammie forgot to be nasty for the rest of the meal, or would have done except that breakfast was forgotten as we danced around the kitchen like two daft children.

* * *

The final instruction from Milly had been an odd one I was to keep Sammie calm for about three hours so that the drug could alter her brain chemistry then tear into my daughter and upset her while making sure that she was trapped and couldn’t run away. In other words. I was to cause her to lose her temper with me, despite this being the thing that I had been trying to avoid for years. Milly said that this would push her to a “Behavioural Chaos Node” and that the drug would cause her hatred to flip into love which are two closely related emotions.

To say that I had even come close to understanding her would be a lie, but at least she seemed to know what she was saying. I’m no scientist, in fact I hadn’t even finished formal schooling because of Samantha, or rather her father... I think that I should say something about what happened eighteen and three quarters years ago and why I am barely fifteen years older than my daughter.

I won’t tell the whole story, this isn’t the place for it, but suffice to say I was molested by a family friend. When he found out, my dad went ballistic and killed the man by driving our family car through a wall, taking the bastard with him. Sadly, dad was killed as well, although I think that this was what he intended because the life insurance pay-out was massive. The crash was ruled “an accident” and my mom, Sammie’s only grandparent, set about putting our lives back together.

What the man, a member of the same church congregation as my family, had done to me was far from pleasant and I guess it was this that had turned me into a lesbian. So here I was pregnant and not yet fifteen years old and scared shitless. Mom, although she moved us both into a new house forty miles away and never went to church again, never the less retained her very strong religious beliefs and refused to let me have an abortion, which is how Samantha came into the world.

No, I don’t hate her for it because she helped me raise the baby, in fact she was probably more of a mother than I was and between us we made a good job of raising my little girl—right up to the week after Sammie’s ninth birthday, when mom died of liver cancer.

Samantha and I were still living in the house that her grandfather bought for us with his life and that is why my eighteen year old daughter has a mother who is only fifteen years older than she is. And yes, Sammie knew the whole story which is why she was able to scream at me that “You wouldn’t be such a sick cow if grandma hadn’t died!” This had been a favourite one of hers, although admittedly I hadn’t heard it much lately.

Okay, so back to that Saturday, that fateful Saturday: the one that changed the course of our lives and shattered our mother-daughter relationship (such as it was) completely. It’s funny how nothing ever works out the way that I intend.

We spent the rest of the morning looking at cars and Sammie, bless her, wanted a sports car or a Mini-Cooper. There was a small argument and after much looking around and discussion we decided on one of the new tiny Fiats: small, easy to drive and cheap to maintain and run. We had a meal in town and then headed back to Sutton Coldfield and home.

Sammie of course still had a hankering after a sports car and said so quite vocally in the lounge over an afternoon cup of coffee. I explained that if properly invested, the lottery prize: which was actually a triple roll-over, would provide an income of several thousand pounds a week and still increase in value enough to counteract inflation while the “little” over would set us up in a new home away from Birmingham and still pay for all of the new things that we needed.

Predictably Sammie erupted, but I had made sure that I was between her and the door so that she couldn’t rush upstairs and sulk, which was her usual tactic.

“Oh I get it! You’re going to use this money as a bribe to force me to split up with Alan and to get me away from my friends!” It was a classic Sammie opening gambit.

Normally I had always tried to be conciliatory at this point although it had never worked, but with Milly’s instructions uppermost in my mind, I dug my metaphorical heels in. “Give him up? Give him up? Why you silly little bimbo, with ten million at stake, that loser will come slithering after you!”

I kept my voice quiet, but Sammie reacted as if I had hit her: she had never seen this side of me before. She just sat staring at me, mouth slightly open and tears welling up in her eyes.

When she remained silent I continued. “Yes I’ve met Alan, he’s the one who smells like a dirty ashtray and has a map of the moon for a face.” I let my voice rise in volume as I continued. “Samantha, darling, have you ever taken a good look at him?”

“Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!” She screamed. “He loves me!”

“Well he certainly doesn’t love soap, does he? And the way he was bragging about how he fuck’s you, he made you sound like a push over!”

She sat back in her chair and stared at me. “He what?” Her mouth opened and closed for several seconds. “No! He’d never say that!”

I smiled triumphantly at her. “Well, he didn’t use those exact words, but that’s what the randy little shit meant!”

Her face was a picture of anguish as she jumped up out of her chair and headed for the door. However I was too quick for her, I blocked her path and just stood there, hands on hips, looking at her. If anything, she’s an inch, or so, taller than me but without my fuller figure: she looks a lot like me but with blonde hair. It was a bit like looking into a mirror; except that she was shaking. She was close to losing all control.

I carried on. “And as for your friends, no I don’t want to separate you from them. They are quite attractive: especially Linnie: wow, that girl is something special. I love her red-hair, tubby little body and plump tits just asking to be fondled, I’ll have to ask you to invite her over sometime so that I can get to know her. Just let me have...” The sentence remained unfinished because it was then that my beloved daughter snapped.

She gave a high-pitched shriek, lunged forward and grabbed hold of the shoulder straps of my black singlet and bra in one hand. She balled the other one into a fist which she looked as if she was going to use. I remained calm and looked across at her, my mouth open slightly. She tried to jerk me towards her and naturally I let her. Well I say naturally: I actually couldn’t help myself as there was something about her eyes, that didn’t match the rest of her angry face. Without knowing what was happening, my knees bent all on their own so that she was looking down at me. Time seemed to stop. Here she was pulling me towards her with one hand while the other one was a fist shaking threateningly.

I relaxed and looked up at my daughter, I don’t know what my own expression was, I guess it must have been one of vulnerability and pleading because Sammie’s expression of anger was replaced by one of confusion as she hesitated. The moment seemed to drag on and on until suddenly she heard me sigh and I felt an arm slide around my shoulders as she crushed her mouth against mine. The kiss went on for several seconds as she hugged me to her and I closed my eyes submissively.

Next thing I knew, the pair of us were on the couch, my daughter on top and me lying back being snogged. It didn’t take long for her hand to find its way inside my bra as she kissed and fondled me. It was the exact opposite of what I had imagined. I had dreamed of being the one to bring her out, the one who would kiss and fondle her. I guess Maud had been right all along. I’m a natural sub!

We must have been lying there enjoying each others bodies for half an an hour or so with my daughter taking the lead in everything. I suggested that we should move to my bedroom where there was a very comfortable king-size bed.

She broke away and whispered. “I... I don’t know what to do. I’m still a virgin. Please be gentle with me.”

Still a virgin, despite Alan’s bragging? The irony hit me.

I smiled up at her. “Don’t worry, my darling. I’ll show you, but its easy really. You know what you like to do to yourself and what turns you on? Well it will turn me on too: that’s the advantage that two women have.” She kissed me again, this time her tongue invaded my mouth and seemed to dance with mine. When she eventually ended the kiss, I sighed and whispered. “Oh, Sam, please take me; I’m yours.”

I let her lead me out by the hand and we scampered upstairs, giggling like two adolescents. We headed into what had been my bedroom until that wonderful afternoon, but was ours now. I sat on the bed and she helped me undress while shrugging off her own clothes in the process. Then as she lay down beside me she muttered. “Oh, mommy, I do love you. I think I always have!.”

I hugged her against my bare breasts. “No darling, not ‘mommy’, not any more: I’m ‘Caitlyn’ or ‘Cat’ to you now.”

We were no longer mother and daughter, we were lovers, and I think we always will be.