Yes, Mrs. Kort

Addi pulled apart the gap in her mother’s crotchless panties.

Buried her face in her mother’s pussy.

Nibbled on the lips.

Began to tongue it.

Mmmm.

Addi loved eating pussy.

Just think.

Two months ago …

… before meeting Mrs. Kort …

She had never eaten a pussy.

Never wanted to.

But now?

Ah.

Her mother was already asking permission to cum.

Damn, she was good at this.

Anyway ..

But now? She luuuuuved eating pussy.

Even her mother’s.

She preferred Mrs. Kort’s.

But would do her mother’s.

It wasn’t bad.

It would do.

For now.

But Addi had plans.

Her calculus professor.

Dr. Cullinan.

Sexy.

Silver blonde.

Addi wanted that pussy.

Addi was going to get that pussy.

She remembered how she had been seduced by Mrs. Kort.

How her mother …

… her prim, distant mother …

Had been seduced by Mrs. Kort.

Her mother who right now was creaming on Addi’s lips.

Who was groaning like a fuck slut being gang-banged.

Addi admired Mrs. Kort’s skills.

And knew she could do it, too.

Get her professor’s panties off.

Lick that pussy.

She actually hoped Dr. Cullinan had never been with a woman.

She would turn her out.

Teach her.

Get her addicted.

Abuse her.

Yeah.

And Dr. Cullinan would just be the first.

Of many.

Addi had a lot of pussy to eat.

This shit with her mother …

And that controlling bitch Mrs. Kort?

Fuck it.

No more than a shitty internship.

Preparing you for the real world.

Dr. Cullinan.

I bet she trims it nice.

You want my pussy, don’t you mother?

You mean you still …

Kneel, mother.

OK. 

Lick it.

God, yes.

Stop. Just one lick.

Why?

Because I say so.

Alright, if that’s …

And thank me after you lick it.

OK, sweetie.

Lick it.

Thank you.

Lick it.

Thank you.

Are you a whore?

What?

Are you a whore, mother?

Yes.

Lick it.

Thank you.

Are you a horny slut?

Yes.

Lick it.

Thank you.

Is my pussy beautiful?

Yes.

Lick it.

Thank you.

Is your pussy ugly?

Please don’t. Why can’t …

Is your hairy old pussy ugly?

Oh god. Yes.

Lick it.

Thank you.

Do you understand who’s in charge now?

Yes.

Lick it.

Thank you.

My pussy rules. Correct?

Yes.

Lick it.

Thank you.

You’ll do what you’re told?

Yes.

Lick it.

Thank you.

Mrs. Kort is gone and now I’m in control. Right?

Yes.

Lick it.

Thank you.

I’m in control or you never get this pussy again.

Yes.

Lick it.

Thank you.

Are you my slave, mother?

Sweetie. Please. Can’t we …

Are you my slave, mother?

Yes.

Lick it.

Thank you.

My sex slave?

Yes.

Lick it.

Thank you.

Lick it.

Thank you.

Lick it.

Thank you.

Lick it.

Thank you.

I’m going to buy me a riding crop just like Mrs. Kort had. Only I’m going to use it a lot more than she did.

[a sob]

Lick it.

Thank you.

What are you, mother?

A slave.

What?

Your slave. Your sex slave.

Lick it.

Thank you.

Lick it.

Thank you.

Mothers who are anal virgins.

God.

What a treasure.

They’ve spent 40 plus years …

Protecting themselves.

There.

Refusing lovers.

Boyfriends.

Husbands.

That.

That thing.

There.

That.

Which they will not do.

No.

Never.

Not that.

Until …

I demand it.

And I take it.

As the daughter watches.

“Yes, Mrs. Kort,” they say.

Fearful.

I make them put the strap-on on me.

Take the dildo in their mouth.

As the daughter watches.

Feel its size.

Through their lips.

Over their tongue.

Down their throat.

(Just a little ways.)

As the daughter watches.

Its size.

Larger than they want.

Exactly.

At this point …

Most of them cry.

I like that.

On the bed, I tell them.

In that most vulnerable position.

Hands and knees.

I pull down their crotchless panties.

As the daughter watches.

Oil them.

Oil the dildo.

As the daughter watches.

I tease with the tip.

At this point …

Most of them beg.

Beg to be spared.

Beg me to make the daughter leave the room.

I like that.

I enter.

A few strokes.

Then quickly to the hilt.

As the daughter watches.

Rough, I know.

But  …

This is an ass fucking …

After all.

And that thing.

There.

That they’ve protected …

For so long.

Is mine.

Moans. Curses. Whimpers. Wails. Groans. Sobs. Screams.

As the daughter watches.

And later …

A softly murmured, “Yes.”

And later …

Louder …

“Yes. Yes. Oh god, yes.”

“Yes, Mrs. Kort.”

And later …

Much louder …

“Goddamn. Goddamn.”

“Fuck me, Mrs. Kort.”

“Fuck my ass, Mrs. Kort.”

“FUCK. MY. FUCKING. ASS.”

“Yes.”

As the daughter watches.

After I make a mother take off her daughters panties for the first time …

Kneeling on my floor …

And after I make her …

Lick her daughter’s pussy …

For the first time … 

Kneeling on my floor …

I make her take her daughter’s hand.

And lead the dazed young lady to my sofa.

Where they kiss.

Of course …

Mother and daughter have kissed before.

But not like this.

No.

Nothing like this.

They know a line has been crossed.

Mother’s tongue …

On daughter’s pussy.

They know …

They are now outsiders.

Outside of what’s good.

What’s proper.

What’s acceptable.

So they kiss.

Frantic kisses.

Rough.

In need.

They are bonded.

By badness.

They seek solace.

Through assurance.

In the other’s lips.

Tongue.

She is as bad as me.

She is the only one …

… as bad as me.

She understands.

My daughter.

My mother.

I can fuck her.

She’s evil, too.

So they kiss.

As the lust …

That drove them …

To their awful decision …

Builds.

And they kiss.

As the woman …

Who seduced them …

Into their awful decision …

Smiles.

That’s me.

Mrs. Kort.

And my panties …

Are …

Soaked.

A conversation I overheard between two young ladies deep in the stacks of the library at the college where I work:

I swear. I swear. I didn’t.

You lying bitch.

No. Please believe …

You bitch. I saw you. I saw you staring. Staring at that slut’s tits.

No. I swear.

Are you fucking her?

God, no! I don’t even … No. You’re the only …

Why were you checking out her tits?

I wasn’t. I swear.

So I’m just a fucking liar?

What? No. It wasn’t …

Am I a liar? Am I just stupid?

No. Of course not. Please don’t get angry.

Don’t tell me what to do.

OK.

I’ll whip you again. Don’t think I won’t.

Oh god.

Tell me the truth. Are you fucking her?

No! I don’t even know her.

But she made you hot. That’s why you were checking her out. Right?

I … I guess. I noticed her.

You fucking whore.

Please …

You fucking whore.

If we could …

You lying fucking whore.

No. I love you. I want you. Just you.

I’m going to whip your pussy so hard tonight, you won’t be able to wear panties for a week.

No. No.

Yes. Yes. And that vibrator you like so much? Gonna shove it in your ass. See how you like that.

Please …

You fucking whore.

No …

You’ll get yours tonight. You lying fucking whore.

THE OTHER PARTS OF TIFFANY’S ORDEAL ARE HERE

I drove over to Mrs. Rosenberg’s house that morning.

To pick Tiffany up.

Mrs. Rosenberg met me at the door.

I followed her to the living room.

Tiffany knelt in front of the sofa.

Naked.

Mrs. Rosenberg sat down in front of her.

And crossed her legs.

Tiffany removed the shoe from Mrs. Rosenberg dangling foot.

Kissed the top of the foot.

The side.

The bottom.

Began to lick it.

“I’ve had 3 calls this morning,” Mrs. Rosenberg said.

“Offering to buy her.”

Our eyes locked.

My heart stopped.

She spread her toes.

Tiffany sucked.

Mrs. Rosenberg smiled.

“You can have her back dear. Don’t worry. I’ve had my fun.”

Whew.

Mrs. Rosenberg leaned forward.

Tousled Tiffany’s thick red hair.

“A wonderful girl,” Mrs. Rosenberg said.

She reached over.

Picked up her cane from the end table.

Tiffany’s body began to tremble.

Then shake.

The toes in her mouth …

Couldn’t mute her whimpers.

A few minutes later ..

Mrs. Rosenberg stood.

Put her shoe on.

Pointed with the cane.

Tiffany began to crawl.

Mrs. Rosenberg turned to me.

“I’m going to beat her again,” Mrs. Rosenberg said.

“Just one more time,” Mrs. Rosenberg said.

“Just to warm me up,” Mrs. Rosenberg said.

She touched the tip of the cane …

To the crotch of my jeans.

“Just to warm me up,” she said.

I sighed.

Trembled.

Stripped.

Crawled.

That was our Monday.

Jesse was sitting on her bed.

Reading her English 101 assignment.

When she looked up, her mother was in the doorway.

Leaning against one side.

Jesse’s heart raced.

Her mother was wearing a black negligee.

See-through.

Barely tied.

Her mother’s pussy exposed.

Her mother touched the hairy pussy.

“I want you to hurt it,” she said.

She rubbed it.

“I want to lay down and spread for you.”

Her mother stepped into the room.

Jesse could now see her mother’s other hand.

And the pair of pliers her mother held.

“Hurt it till I can’t take it anymore,” her mother said.

An hour later, Jesse’s mother was soaked in sweat.

The black see-through had been shredded by her mother’s clawing, out of control hands.

She was hoarse from sobbing.

And she was begging begging begging Jesse to stop.

Jesse bent down.

Kissed her.

Said, “I love you.”

And hurt it more.

Chastity belts.

I’m not a big fan.

They smack of paranoia.

Weakness.

There are better ways to control a pussy.

But where a chastity belt does work …

… paradoxically …

Is in a longterm, stable relationship.

It sounds odd.

But let me explain with a real-life example.

I’ve written often about Jodi.

Of all the mothers I’ve had, she was my favorite.

My relationship with her and her daughter Anna was years ago.

Jodi got married in past year.

To a much younger woman.

Chloe.

The 3 of us went out for drinks recently and they told me that Chloe had been wearing a chastity belt for 2 months.

It was a decision they made together.

Theirs was a marriage of equals.

So then. Why?

Chloe said it was a symbol of commitment.

Like a marriage ring.

Only more so.

And because she was such a sexually needy young woman …

(Jodi gave me a wink at this point. Man, she’s great.)

… having her wife restrict her access to pleasure was a nearly constant thrill.

(I also heard this thought in the movie “Shadowlands” — the greatest pleasure isn’t in the having but in the wanting.)

Of course, Jodi being Jodi, the chastity belt came off quite often.

“But some nights I leave it on her. And damn (my first name), it’s so fucking hot.”

Jodi reached out and touched her wife’s hand.

“Hot without it, too. But with it, it’s just … it’s just …”

“Let’s show her,” Chloe said.

So they took me home.

It was nice fucking Jodi again.

And Chloe?

Damn.

Beautiful Chloe.

Young sexy Chloe.

Her chastity belt drove me crazy.

I had her lips. Her tongue.

Her tits.

She had all of me.

But that pussy.

That young, yearning, needy pussy.

Off-limits.

To me.

It was for her wife.

Only.

And I knew.

Later.

As I lay in my own bed.

Jodi took off Chloe’s chastity belt.

And with the evening of fucking over.

Wife and wife made love.

“Can I play with it?” Debi asked.

Sure, I said.

She pulled her mother’s thighs apart.

And jabbed 2 fingers into her mother’s pussy.

Ellen moaned.

She was lying across her daughter’s lap.

On my sofa.

Her wrists tied behind her back.

With her own bra.

And …

With a very, very …

Sore ass.

Bright red.

Spanked by her daughter.

“Goddamn she’s so fucking wet,” Debi said.

And then asked …

“Can I make her cum?”

“I thought you wanted to fuck her ass.”

“Yes, Mrs. Kort. I do.”

She bent over.

Bit her mother’s red ass.

“But this first.”

Finger fucked her even harder.

Ellen thrashed.

In her daughter’s lap.

“This fucking pussy really needs to cum,” Debi said.

And fingered her mother even harder.

Ellen raised her head.

Looked at me.

Her wide eyes imploring.

She knew she was close.

So close.

She knew her daughter would get her there.

Very soon.

Her eyes blinked rapidly.

She knew she needed permission

She knew she needed to ask.

And quickly.

What she didn’t know …

Was what to do with the panties.

That were in her mouth.

THE FIRST PARTS OF TIFFANY’S ORDEAL ARE HERE

Tiffany’s nipples.

Tiffany’s clit.

That’s what the next day was about.

Her nipples.

And clit.

And — of course — the clamps.

That’s what Mrs. Rosenberg did that day.

All day.

Just the two of them this time.

Mrs. Rosenberg knew what she was doing.

To use clamps this way …

You create a bond.

Of control.

And dependancy.

Of hate.

And love.

Putting the clamps on.

Taking them off.

Sometimes minutes apart.

Sometimes hours.

“I was on her coffee table the whole time,” Tiffany told me.

Hands cuffed under it.

“There were times when she took the clamps off that I …”

Tiffany teared up.

“That I loved her more than I’ve loved anyone. Or anything.”

Mrs. Rosenberg.

She’s the devil.

The soulless patience that took.

Placing and removing the clamps.

All day.

With a beautiful, naked 18-year-old …

Stretched naked before you.

No sex.

Mrs. Rosenberg didn’t get off.

Tiffany didn’t get off.

Just pain.

And relief from pain.

Nipples.

Clit.

Hours.

And hours.

Love.

Hate.

Tears.

Pleads for mercy.

Offers of sexual service.

Clamps.

No clamps.

Offers ignored.

Tears enjoyed.

Off.

On.

Clit.

Nipples.

Love.

Hate.

Hours.

And hours.

And hours.

That was her Sunday.

“Oh. You, you … Oh god.”

It was the first time Ursula had seen my riding crop.

“Listen to me closely,” I said.

“Yes. But …”

“Shut up and listen.”

“OK.”

“That’s it right there. What have I told you? Many times now. About how to speak to me.”

“Oh. Yes, Mrs. Kort. I’m sorry I forgot. Yes, Mrs. Kort. Yes, Mrs. Kort.”

“I’m going to give you a correction, Ursula. [seconds pass] Well?”

“Yes, Mrs. Kort.”

“Do exactly what you’re told. Or it’s much worse. [seconds pass] Do you hear me?”

“Yes, Mrs. Kort.”

 ”I’m going to crop your pussy, Ursula. I’m going to crop it very hard. Understand?”

[weeping]

“Yes, Mrs. Kort.”

“There’s a proper way to do this. A position. One I’m about to teach you. [seconds pass] Acknowledge me when I speak, bitch.”

“Yes, Mrs. Kort. I’m sorry. I’m so confused. Scared.”

“Take off your panties.”

“Yes, Mrs. Kort.”

“Kneel.”

“Yes, Mrs. Kort.”

“Is your daughter’s pussy my property?”

“Yes, Mrs. Kort.”

“Did you lick it after shaving her yesterday morning?”

“Just one … I mean … Yes, Mrs. Kort.”

“Did you have my permission to lick it?”

“No … Mrs. Kort.”

“Anytime you disobey me like that, Ursula, you will be corrected. With this.”

[in a low voice] “Yes, Mrs. Kort.”

“You’re more right than you know, Ursula. To fear my crop.”

“Yes, Mrs. Kort.”

“Put your palms and the bottoms of your forearms flat on the floor.”

“Yes, Mrs. Kort.”

“Put your tits and the right side of your face flat on the floor.”

“Yes, Mrs. Kort.”

“Spread your knees.”

“Yes, Mrs. Kort.”

“Wider.”

“Yes, Mrs. Kort.”

“Lift your ass.”

“Yes, Mrs. Kort.”

“That, Ursula, is the proper position for you or your daughter to take when I have to correct one of you. Always. And I won’t tell either of you again.”

“Yes, Mrs. Kort.”

“If you don’t take the proper position when I tell you a correction is necessary … well, you would hate to find out.”

“Yes, Mrs. Kort.”

“To remind you, Ursula. Your daughter’s pussy is my property. You will now be corrected.”

[sharp snap of struck flesh]

“OH GOD! OH MY GOD!”

“Shut the fuck up.”

[sharp snap of struck flesh]

“Ooooooo …”

“Ursula?”

“Ssssss … meh meh esss corrrrr.”

“Keep. [sharp snap of struck flesh] Your. [sharp snap of struck flesh] Fucking. [sharp snap of struck flesh] Mouth. [sharp snap of struck flesh] Shut. [sharp snap of struck flesh] During. [sharp snap of struck flesh] A. [sharp snap of struck flesh] Correction.”

[sharp snap of struck flesh]

[for forty minutes]

[sobs and groans through a bitten lip]

[for forty minutes]

There’s nothing …

More powerful than a pussy.

So you must control their orgasms.

It’s basic.

It’s critical.

When you fuck a mother.

And her daughter.

And make mother and daughter fuck each other.

You must.

Must.

Must.

Must.

Have complete control.

Of when they cum.

Or you lose authority.

And that’s dangerous.

Because a mother and a daughter who are fucking each other …

Are crazed beasts to begin with.

You lose control …

They’ll turn on you.

Leave you broken and battered.

And worse.

Render you unnecessary.

Don’t make that mistake.

Train them.

If she wants to cum …

If she needs to cum …

She asks permission.

Asks in ritual way.

Don’t complicate it.

Not that part.

Keep it simple.

Mine merely say, “Mrs. Kort, may I cum?”

And whether I agree or not, they say …

“Yes, Mrs. Kort.”

And do what they’re told.

Or else.

But keep them off balance.

Don’t be generous.

Don’t be stingy.

But enforce your decision.

Correct them …

If you say “no” and they cum anyway.

Mine get their pussies cropped.

And if you want the mother or daughter to cum …

And she’s not ready …

Order it.

Correct her …

 If you say “cum” and she doesn’t.

Crop that pussy.

Or whip her ass.

Which ever. Or something else.

Just. Keep. Control.

The whole reason a mother and a daughter would fuck each other to begin with …

Is for the raw, base, primal pleasure of the unallowable.

And its release.

You must be the one.

Who allows that release.

Or requires that release.

You’d better.

Or I swear to god …

Mother and daughter will eat you alive.

And I don’t mean like that.

THE FIRST PARTS OF TIFFANY’S ORDEAL ARE HERE

The next morning, Mrs. Rosenberg bathed her.

“A really hot bath. I really needed it.”

And it was the only time Mrs. Rosenberg touched her.

“She even fingered me. Not long. It was when she was telling how beautiful I was.”

Yeah, Mrs. Rosenberg loved beautiful women.

Loved to see them suffer.

Make them suffer.

After the bath …

Tiffany was caned again.

Tits and ass and pussy again.

Not as long.

But just as hard.

She was given some time to recover.

And then …

Well, I knew this was coming.

“I can’t even tell you …,” Tiffany said.

“… how many.”

“I just don’t know.”

Mrs. Rosenberg invited her “dear old” friends over.

The gray-hair, dry-snatch bitches.

They came and went throughout the afternoon and evening.

And Tiffany …

On her knees …

Licked.

And licked.

One old pussy after another.

Pulled down …

One pair of panties after another.

Tongued worn, wrinkled clits.

Over and over.

“So many,” Tiffany said — with a far off look.

“So old.”

Mrs. Rosenberg kept the cane handy.

To keep Tiffany’s attention …

On those gaping cunts.

And they pinched her.

Fingered her.

Put her over their knees.

Rich old bitches.

An afternoon of fun.

With a slim, big-breasted, sexy 18-year-old redhead.

Who had no choice.

Who had to submit to and service …

Them.

“Old,” Tiffany repeated. “So old.”

“So many.”

That was her Saturday.

“Well?”

“Well … God, I don’t think we have a choice. I sure want to.”

“Yeah. Me too,” Anna said.

“OK then,” her mother Jodi said.

“But … I mean … what about Mrs. Kort.”

“We’ll deal with that later.”

Jodi took the double dildo off the shelf.

“Besides,” Jodi said, “I’m use to her crop on my pussy.”

“Yeah. Me too,” Anna said.

And mother and daughter walked to the register.

***

Jodi watched her daughter strip.

The naked Anna walked over.

Mother and daughter kissed.

Anna undressed her mother.

Knelt.

Ran her tongue …

Slowly.

Slowly.

Up and down …

Through her mother’s pussy.

***

Jodi spanked her daughter’s ass one more time.

Then told her to roll over.

Anna did.

And bent her knees.

And spread her legs.

And said, “Now. Please?”

Jodi picked up the double dildo.

Rubbed the head of one end between the lips of Anna’s pussy.

Getting the dildo wet.

Getting her daughter wet.

Getting herself wet.

She pushed the dildo in.

Anna grabbed the pillow under her head.

Moaned.

Jodi fed the other end into her own pussy.

Moaned.

She lay down on Anna.

Her daughter pulled her close.

Whispered in her ear.

“Fuck my tight little pussy, mother. Fuck my tight little pussy.”

***

They lay silently together.

On their sides.

Spooning.

One end of the dildo was in Jodi’s ass.

The other in Anna’s pussy.

Anna was stroking slowly.

Her mother looked back at her.

And spoke in a tired voice.

“See how deep it will go, baby.”

***

When they told me …

I made them throw the dildo away.

Cropped their pussies.

… and Jodi’s ass.

Then lay in bed with them.

Mother and daughter.

One on each side.

And made them tell me again.

Made them lick me.

Together.

Mother and daughter.

And tell me again.

And again.

Tongue my ass.

And tell me again.

THE FIRST PART OF TIFFANY’S ORDEAL IS HERE

Mrs. Rosenberg caned Tiffany.

To start with.

Tits.

Ass.

Pussy last.

That thin wooden cane I know so well.

Broke Tiffany immediately.

So about an hour later …

(That was Tiffany’s best guess.)

… when the 4 women arrived …

(“Almost my age,” Tiffany said. “A couple a years older.”)

… she was very obedient …

(“So sore still.”)

… as the young women …

(“They looked like girl’s on the college volleyball team. Bodies like that.”)

… undressed and strapped on dildos …

(“Mrs. Rosenberg never said anything. Just sat in the chair. Smoking. Watching.”)

… and took Tiffany.

In pairs.

Took her.

On the bed.

On the floor.

Took her.

In her ass.

In her mouth.

In her pussy.

Two at at time.

Pairs switching out.

Hard.

Constantly.

As night fell.

And the dark hours drew out.

Until Tiffany could take no more.

And fainted.

That was her Friday.