Introducing Shawna

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.

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Author's Note:

Mistress Pepper and Sophie are "anonymized" versions of me and my slave-girl. The real me. All of my stories are (or should I say will be) my memories of a session with a sub. Thus, they are true stories. Only in this version details have been changed to protect the sub. I do live in Mobile about 10 months of the year (the remaining two I spend in Nizhny Novgorod, Russia, where my father is from and lives), and almost all of my subs live in Mobile or a bordering county. I'm originally from Baldwin County, next door to Mobile. I moved across the bay to attend USA. As is/did Mistress Pepper. But I'm not a blond. And you'll most definitely have to guess at my bra size!

And remember, the names and such have been changed in this version to protect the slutty. Only Princess Lilly appears as herself. But she truly has no concept of shame.

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Introducing Shawna

Prologue:

In case this is the first of my stories you've read, there are a few things I've skipped over in this story since there are several other stories I've written about this same sub. I tend to write a story after almost all of my sessions with my toys. But I publish very few of them online.

My name is Pepper Rodgers. I'm a 19-year-old Domme, living downtown Mobile, Alabama. I have a decently well-stocked playroom in the second bedroom of my fourth-floor apartment (most of my neighbors are corporate types who aren't always around, giving me a lot of privacy, even in the halls and elevators). I also have a decently stocked toybox. I prefer my toys to be older than I am, around 30-42 years old. I prefer men for myself, however not for my toybox. When it comes to toys, I find women and couples to be far more amusing. Single men tend to be needier, and often too clingy. But that doesn't mean I don't have a few of them in my toybox. I do. They just don't have the same chances of getting there as couples and single women do.

I'm petite. Actually more "tiny" that petite. I'm 5' 1.75" and 91 pounds. I'm not bony, though, I've curvy, like a small-sized woman. I have blond hair down to my shoulders and blue eyes. Oh, and my chest is the only place I'm not small. I'm a 32-D, and I'm very pert. Which makes me popular with the boys.

I'm also slightly bisexual. I'm attracted to men, not women. I would never choose a female partner for even a date, let alone for sex. But I'm not opposed to masturbating with a female toy. Sophie happens to be my favorite sex toy to pleasure myself with. Her tongue has two big advantages over my vibrator: one, it's very delicate and tender. Two, no matter how much I use it, its batteries never die at the worst possible moment! It's better than fresh bunny batteries, it just keeps going until I want it to stop. And I don't even have to hold it in place!

When I want sex I never use one of my toys. I never allow a toy touch, or even see, all of me. And I never bring a toy to my bedroom. Nor do I chose a woman. I pick a man, usually one I find in a club or cafe, or wherever. I flirt, dance dirty a little and if he meets my standards, I ask if he's interested in a one-time-only, no-names-exchanged, hook-up. I've never been turned down.

I have a few standards for my hook-ups. I never pick a guy I know or even just see around. And I insist on a cock between 7 and 9" long and 1.5" across, plus or minus a small bit. I won't touch a guy who isn't circumcised, either. I hate the way the foreskin feels inside me. I want to feel that fat head. The dirty dancing gives me plenty of time to tease a guy hard and feel for myself what he's got. It's the only way not to be disappointed. Guys always lie about their equipment!

Sophie is my 19-year-old live-in slave-girl. She's slightly petite at 5'4" and 119 pounds. She's pretty, too, with long honey-blond hair, green eyes, and a 34-B chest. Sophie is extremely devoted to me. So devoted, and so happy as my slave, that despite not being attracted to women, she's a virgin with men. She serves and pleasures only me, and those I give her to. And while I use her, even with my male toys, I won't allow any man to touch her pussy or penetrate her bottom. Those are mine. Only mine. I've owned her since she graduated high school, but I've known her longer. Since about two months after her 18th birthday, which was also about two months before she finished high school.

I have three BFFs, (Isabelle, Reagan, and Ellie) none of whom are into my little games. But all of whom occasionally creep into my stories. After all, they are my BFFs so they tend to be around. Luckily they're not offended by anything they happen to see. They're just not eager for me to put on a show on their account.

I also have a circle of five other women friends, all of whom are Dommes as well. Andrea (26), Janelle (35), Colette (39), Diane (43), and Olive (44). we usually get together every couple of weeks for coffee and a little chat about who's doing what to whom lately. We sometimes share, or loan, our toys to each other, but not that often. Sometimes we do a favor for each other, such as providing something different for a toy. Mostly we do what girls do: we gossip.

Chapter 01: Spying On Mom

Her name is Natalie. She's been my toy for several months now. She's one of my needier toys. One of the ones who needs frequent attention. I might not have kept her in the toybox too long, I prefer toys that don't take up too much of my energy when I'm not playing with them. But two things keep her in the toy box.

First, she came to me through my friend Colette. Colette is a housewife and soccer mom. Natalie is a kindergarten teacher. Last year, when Natalie first came to me, Colette's youngest son was in Natalie's class. It's why Colette didn't want to personally play with her. That and Colette's time to play is fairly limited.

Second, Natalie is useful to me. She's a licensed foster parent, although she's rather picky which kids she'll take from the State. To me, that's a plus. She's licensed to have up to four kids in her house. Usually, there's at least one vacancy. A vacancy that I've been known to fill for her. Several times I've sent her the child of a toy and told her to take care of the child until I was done playing with my toy. It's the only "payment" I get from her. Unless you count the amusement she provides. But having a safe place to park a child is valuable to me. It allows me to take my time enjoying my toy and not have to worry about the toy's child being cared for. No matter how long I keep my toy.

I usually play with Natalie about once every two to three weeks. As with all of my toys, I have Natalie email me daily and tell me what's going on with her. It lets me see when she's getting too needy and it's time for her to come play. Toys, especially ones like Natalie, will tell me when they're hungry for a session. Often by violating some little rule, subconsciously intentionally, that's certain to bring them some light punishment. A punishment they will come here to get.

I seldom respond to those emails. It would take up too much of my time. But I always read them. Just as I read the one Natalie sent me an hour ago. The one where she told me how she was "unbearably horny." It's Natalie's way of begging me for some attention.

It works, too. But not often the way Natalie really wants it to. There's no question what Natalie wants. She wants me to summon her for a very long, very strict, session. She wants me to make her really earn her relief through sweet suffering. Suffering that will definitely entertain me.

Of course, I can't let her have her way, either. That would be allowing her some modicum of control. I never allow a toy any control, over anything, in my realm. They come only for my amusement.

Tonight I "compromise" by instructing Natalie to video call me at nine pm. I've done it enough with her before that Natalie knows what to expect. At least somewhat. She'll get her chance to beg me for permission to masturbate, something that would bring her a very harsh punishment for doing without my permission. But she'll earn the chance to beg. And no matter how prolific her begging is, there's no guarantee that I'll allow it. She might just as well end up far hornier than she was, and still with no release in sight.

Natalie knows to make sure she's alone when she makes that video call. She knows there's no predicting what I may tell her to do. I could literally come with anything. All she knows is that her phone has to be propped up on something so that, without her having even a finger on it, it shows me a full view of her body as she sits in front of it.

When Natalie's call comes, I answer it on my laptop. The larger screen gives me a much better view than I'd get on my phone. Thankfully, Natalie has a good phone, even if it is an Android, with a good camera on it to feed that video to me. Plus, I have a "geek's dream" of a laptop, or so the computer science geeks assured me when they set it up for me. It runs the latest build of Linux. But most importantly, the video chat app they set up for me allows me to bypass the laptop's camera and feed a still image back to Natalie. Whatever image I want to send her. An image I can change whenever I want, even mid-call. When I answer her call I show her an image of her bare bottom, my crop searing a nice red welt across both of her cheeks. Along the top, I've superimposed the words "Bad Girl."

Natalie is sitting "properly" when the image of her appears live on my screen. I can see that she's in her bedroom, the one place she has some privacy. She keeps a small wicker chair in there, and that's what she's sitting upon. She sits with her legs fully crossed and her hands folded neatly in her lap. She keeps her back up straight and her eyes forward. She sits still and silent, waiting for me to tell her what to do now.

Natalie looks like she's wearing the same things she wore to work today. Loose-fitting jeans, sneakers, and a long-sleeved blouse. That fits loosely, too. And the material is thick enough that her bra doesn't show. It's modest, but she does teach kindergarten. It's cute though.

"There's my naughty little bitch!" I greet her with as much teasing sweetness as scorn in my voice. "I hear that skanky pussy between those legs is just so horny tonight!"

"Yes, my Queen," Natalie answers with a trace of eagerness in her voice.

"I suppose you want to be a complete gutter slut and diddle that sloppy thing, don't you, bitch?"

"Yes, my Queen, I'd do anything for permission to diddle my skanky pussy, Ma'am."

"And just what got that skank pit so horny, bitch? We're you having slutty dreams again?"

"Yes, my Queen... I'm sorry, Ma'am..."

I sigh loudly and heavy to make sure she hears it. "Tell me all about your slutty dream, bitch."

"Yes, my Queen." Natalie answer, her voice now lowering a bit and betraying a heavy note of shyness. "I was remembering Sunday when you allowed me to visit you, my Queen... The moment, just before you sent me away when you were scolding me and telling me that if I didn't learn to control my filthy mind, you'd do it for me by 'getting all of the filth out of me.' When you told me how you'd start that by giving me a very big, and bad, enema. And I burst into tears, really crying like a baby, and begging you not to do that to me.

"In my dream last night, I was a bad girl and had a very filthy dream. So you made me have that enema. It hurt so much! But you made me lie there and suffer it. And you kept telling me that it was my own fault. If I'd been a good girl and only had clean thoughts, thoughts girls should be having, then I wouldn't have to have an enema to get the filth out of me."

I remember well. The instant I mentioned an enema, Natalie was bawling like a baby and trembling. Just the concept of it made her as nervous as she's ever been. But she's a huge sissy about her bottom, or rather about anything going into it. She cries, albeit lightly if even a finger enters her. It gets her very hot, but that doesn't mean every bit of her beside her pussy, hates it. Right then, as she tearfully begged me not to do that to her, and promised me that she'll be a good girl forever, I decided that Natalie would very soon be getting that enema.

A few clicks are all it takes for me to change the image Natalie is seeing. I have a nice selection of images. One for every occasion. The image I switch to shows a white, and near-comically large, enema nozzle. One that's about 10" long, the clear tubing attached to it. It sits atop a black background.

It only takes about two seconds for me to hear the sharp intake of breath from Natalie. And to see that overly nervous look back on her face. "I'm sorry, my Queen!" Natalie blurts out anxiously. "I'm sorry! I promise I'll never have another dirty thought, Ma'am! I'm sorry!"

I'll bet Natalie doesn't have a clue how sensitive the mic on her phone is. In the background, I can hear a faint thump. It's very faint. But a second later I hear a muted voice urgently whispering for someone to leave her alone. At the same time, I see Natalie's eyes get wide and dart to the door. A sudden, and very hard, quivering racks her body. Then her face scrunches up. The effect is a perfect cross of a deer-in-headlights and utter humiliation.

I can only imagine what the first noise was. Natalie has two foster children, a 13-year-old boy, and an 8-year-old daughter in her house at the moment. Plus there's Natalie's daughter, who is just barely 18-years-old. I could imagine any of them being snoopy.

I change the image Natalie is seeing, this time having her phone display instructions. "Do not make a sound. Go jerk the door open. Bring whomever you find to me now. Go, bitch." Natalie's head droops forward as she reads the instructions. She rises, reluctantly and slowly, and goes to the door just as hesitantly. She has definitely allowed whoever was there plenty of time to escape. Before Natalie pulls the door open, while Natalie's back is to the camera, I switch to an image of a cartoon Jaguar. An image that gives nothing away. Appropriate for all audiences.

Natalie doesn't exactly jerk the door open, but she opens it quickly enough that she catches the girl trying to listen at it. "Shawna!" Natalie blurts out, a trace of irritation in her voice. "What are you doing?" She asks her daughter. The daughter that turned eighteen less than two weeks ago.

Shawna stutters, starting and stopping, as she tries to make up some legitimate reason for listening at her mother's door. She can't. There really isn't much of an excuse for snooping on mom, is there? Especially in mom's bedroom. It's a little bit of a surprise to me. I'd expect that from a younger girl. Not a newly-minted adult.

Natalie listens for a couple of short seconds. Then the quivering suddenly returns to her body as she realizes what she has to do. Now it's Natalie sputtering instead of Shawna. But eventually, after half a dozen false starts, Natalie manages to do what she has to do. In a very shamed and quiet voice, she tells Shawna "well, you've really done it now... I don't have a choice... you have to come talk to Miss Rodgers right now... and please be very very polite to her, or we both... might wish you were..."

Shawna almost refuses. She has very light white skin. Light enough that I can see her blushing. That's an interesting response. She sheepishly follows her mom over to the chair. Natalie points to the phone, where I've again changed the image. Now they're seeing an image of an old-fashioned schoolhouse paddle against a white background. As soon as Shawna sees that she hesitates in her step.

"Good girl, Natalie. You caught the naughty little miscreant." I saw in a voice that's teasingly sweet.

"Yes, my Queen," Natalie answers, lowering her voice as much as she's able as if trying to keep Shawna from hearing her, yet knowing she can't.

Shawna's head snaps to Natalie. Natalie's answer is totally unexpected, and a big shock to Shawna.

"You are Shawn, Natalie's oldest daughter. You just turned eighteen, did you not?"

"Uh... Yes..." Shawna answers in a voice as hesitant as her final step was. She's quiet and reluctant. Her eyes keep darting nervously to Natalie, who offers her no help. Instead, she only sees Natalie shirking inward, a few small tears rolling down her cheek. And hanging her head in shame, unwilling to look at her daughter.

"Well, now that you are an adult, there's no reason you can't act like one, is there? Or take responsibility for your own actions, just as a real adult does." I tell her in a very stern voice.

"Natalie, be a good bitch now. I don't think you want to misbehave anymore tonight. Go get something to tie Shawna's hands with. Now."

Natalie jumps back a little. She cringes hard, but obediently says "Yes, my Queen." It takes her over a minute, but she comes back with the sash off of a robe. Despite looking horrified, shocked, and nervous, Shawna has obediently stood beside the chair and waited. Even though she heard Natalie's instructions and knows that her hands are about to be tied. I ignore her, only watching to ensure she waits.

When Natalie returns, I tell her to tie Shawna's hands snugly behind her back. And I warn her not to disappoint me by tying them too loosely. Shawna had better not be able to free her hands. Then I watch as Natalie has to take Shawna by her shoulders and turn her. And then Natalie has to bring Shawna's hands behind her. Although Shawna isn't cooperating, it doesn't look like she's offering too much resistance either. At least Natalie isn't straining to get Shawna's hands behind her. Natalie ties them, and she does a decent job of it. I'd bet Shawna could get out of it, but it would take her a while with nimble fingers to get that knot undone. I have Natalie nudge Shawna back around to face the camera.

"According to Google, it will take you eighteen minutes to drive to my building. I'll give you two to get to your car, and five to park and get to my door. That's 25 minutes.

"Natalie, you may not speak a word to Shawna. Not one. You will tell her only that you are bringing her to me where she can face proper consequences for her actions. Then take her by the arm, walk her to your car and bring her to me. Do not be late. You know how I disapprove of tardiness. Tell her now, leave the phone where it is, and get going. Your 25 minutes begins... now!" I add a touch of taunting giggle to the last word.

Natalie's instincts take over. She turns to Shawna. "You've really done it now, kiddo. Come on, I have to take you to Miss Rodgers right now. I'm sorry, but as she said, you're an adult now, so now I can't protect you. You'll just have to face the consequence of your actions like an adult." Natalie grips Shawna's upper arm and starts guiding her out of the bedroom.

Shawna tenses up hard. Not so much to resist, but more out of nervousness as she realizes that she's scared. That she hasn't a clue what's going to happen to her. But it doesn't sound too good. And worse, her mom is going to make her do it.

It takes Natalie some strength, but she gets the reluctant Shawna moving. I leave the chat open for several minutes to be sure they don't reenter the room and then minimize the window. I have to get ready.

Chapter 02: Mommy's Spanking

Exactly twenty-four minutes later, a slightly harried looking Natalie is knocking on my door. She made it in the time I allowed her, but it looks like she didn't have a second to spare. I'd bet she bent a couple of speed limits, too. Not enough to get a ticket, but enough to make up a minute or two that she likely wasted trying to drag Shawna to the car or convince her older foster child to mind the younger for a little while.

Natalie stands about 5'6", which is about average for a woman. She's fairly lean, too. Maybe 140 pounds, tops. She has long, dishwater blond hair that hangs down to the bottoms of her shoulder blades. It frames a slightly long oval face. A face with brilliant green eyes. Her nose is slightly long, with marginally strong features. But the first thing I notice about it is that it's just ever-so-slightly upturned instead of straight along its bottom. And she has a decently wide, but straight and flat, mouth that's ringed with a pair of light pink lips. Those are fairly average looking, neither plump and full, nor fine.