Mom's Favorite Toy

Mom's Favorite Toy (F/M, FF/M, Non-Con, Humil, Spanking, Femdom, Forced HJ)

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Just a story idea that came to me recently that I decided to write out before I lost inspiration. Not the kind of thing I typically write, even within the world of fetish stuff, but what the hey.

There is tickling in this story but I wanted to do more of a torture femdom thing rather than limit myself to just one arena. Please be advised, this content will not be to everyone's taste. There is non-consensual torture and humiliation below.

Also, a lot of setup and world-building. I haven't written THAT many fetish stories before, though I have a lot of experience writing in general, so not sure how this'll turn out, but establishing characters and some sort of situation is important to me.

The time frame for this story doesn't matter that much but I imagine it happening some time in the 2030s.

I've split the story up into parts to make it a little easier for people to skip stuff they're not interested in. If you want to skip to a particular part just use the character strings inside the [] brackets and do a search.

Part One: The Beautiful Elite - Introducing characters, their backstories, and lives [01TBE]

Part Two: A Timely Offer - Setup [02ATO]

Part Three: Secrets - Initial twist [03S]

Part Four: The Dark Side of the Mom - Start of Non-Con [04TDSOTM]

Part Five: A Sadist Is Born - Start of Humil and Femdom [05ASIB]

Part Six: A Spanking Good Time - Spanking [06ASGT]

Part Seven: Tickle Time - Start of Tickling [07TT]

Part Eight: A Test of Will - Forced HJ [08ATOW]

Part Nine: A Toy All Her Own - Sequel Tease [09ATAHO]

Part Ten: The Key To Winning - Epilogue [10TKTW]

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Part One: The Beautiful Elite [01TBE]

Yeah, yeah, I know.

Let's get the obvious out of the way first.

Daisy Scott has the kinds of problems that more than ninety-nine percent of the world wishes they had. They are a far cry from the problems of the single mother of three kids, working as a waitress, five months behind on her rent. Certainly nothing compared to the starving family living in a straw hut in Africa. And downright non-existent compared to the middle-eastern refugee, home destroyed by endless war, desperately just trying to find somewhere to live where they wouldn't get shot at or blown up. Daisy Scott is a gorgeous, white-skinned, blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl entering her physical prime, born with a silver spoon in her mouth that at this point was more of a platinum shovel, progeny to a famous athletic phenom, and a burgeoning celebrity in her own right. We'd all trade places with her in a second. And she knows that.

The eldest daughter of Jacob Scott, Daisy was granted access to exceptional physical genes the moment she was conceived thanks to her father's rare athletic gifts. Seven feet tall and two hundred and sixty pounds, Jacob had been an extremely promising and highly drafted rookie in the National Basketball Association when Daisy was born. Eighteen years later, he had more than lived up to expectations, finishing up what was expected to be his final season before retirement with 12 All-Star Selections, 7 All-NBA First Team Selections, 1 League MVP, 3 NBA Championships (with the KNICKS, of all teams!), and, oh yeah, almost 550 million dollars in career earnings. Coupled with his over 200 million dollars in sponsorships and advertising deals, plus some savvy crypto investing, Jacob was a literal billionaire.

Daisy hadn't followed her father's footsteps exactly, but she was certainly not content to sit around and look pretty. And, make no mistake, she could have done that without a word of complaint. The 18 year old girl had the physique and measurements of a supermodel, five foot nine and 125 pounds, full and rich wavy golden blonde hair that went just past her shoulders, and piercing blue eyes that could reduce just about any straight man to a jabbering puddle of sweat. She had always had first pick of the boys at her exclusive private school, there had been a disturbing number of internet countdowns to her eighteenth birthday, and she had already made a bikini-clad appearance in Sports Illustrated after coming of age.

But she hadn't been happy with just that. When your father is dominating at the highest level of competitive athletics, you can't help but want to prove yourself capable of doing the same. Daisy spent her high school years starring in volleyball, swim team, and basketball. But her skill in those fields paled in comparison to her true love, tennis. There, she was among the best in the world. A serve that could send a tennis ball into orbit while maintaining the precision aim to William Tell an apple off someone's head at a hundred feet. Range like an octopus, covering distance on the court in a flash to return any volley, no matter how out of position she might have been. Balance and dexterity to throw her lithe body around with reckless abandon while still accurately slapping the ball where she wanted. Foreknowledge and intelligence to see four or five volleys ahead, setting her opponents up before landing a decisive strike. Endurance to maintain her composure and continue to make the right moves during matches that could last as long as five hours. She had it all, and could do it all, on a tennis court.

A tennis prodigy since she was old enough to swing a racket, Daisy was currently ranked #22 in the world among female professional players, with two top 10 finishes in the Australian Open, one top 10 finish at Wimbledon, and a victory at the Shenzhen Open and Delray Beach Open in the last year plus. In her (perhaps somewhat arrogant) mind, the only reason why she didn't already have multiple grand slam titles was because of the rule changes in the post-Martina Hingis world regarding how young you could be before turning professional. But she was confident her time at the top was coming, and that she'd own the #1 spot in the rankings, as well as multiple grand slam titles, in the next year. And her confidence was probably warranted.

So yeah, that's Daisy Scott. Superstar tennis pro, supermodel good looks, obscenely wealthy father, world famous, blah blah blah. Lives in a massive mansion by the water in Florida loaded with servants, has a bedroom bigger than your house, a shoe closet bigger than your bedroom, filled with shoes that cost more than your car that she doesn't even wear, you know the drill. She's got the life.

But you know what? That doesn't mean it's always easy.

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Part Two: A Timely Offer [02ATO]

Daisy pulled herself up into the Sirsasana, or Headstand, yoga pose, on a mat in the middle of her room, wearing a pink tank top and blue short-shorts. Trickles of sweat were running up her face and dripping down to the mat, pooling beneath her, evidence of the long and grueling yoga session she was in the middle of. Yoga was just one of many ways she kept herself in the best possible shape, putting her body through all the most intense and difficult poses, working to help prevent future injuries. She couldn't imagine how devastating it would be to make a deep run at the US or French Open, only to pull a hamstring at the end. Or, worse yet, have her career cut short by tearing a ligament. Tennis careers were short enough as it was, and Daisy wanted a room full of trophies by the time she hung up her racket.

That pressure to succeed, pressure to be perfect, exacerbated by her famous and successful father, pressure to be beautiful, pressure to maintain a cheerful, kind, magnanimous persona so she wouldn't just be that 'trust fund brat' to the general public, pressure to balance it all with college...it was enough to constitute a problem. A problem she wouldn't have if she could just turn off her competitive streak and be content to live a life of luxury off her daddy, let her younger siblings be the overachievers...but that wasn't happening. So, stress headaches and fear of failure was just going to be something to deal with for now.

As Daisy transitioned into a Kakasana crow pose, she heard her bedroom door swing open. She lifted her head up enough to see the light tan yoga pants and small bare feet that she knew belonged to her mother in the doorway.

"There's a thing called knocking," Daisy said quietly, though without any real malice or irritation.

"Are you planning on doing anything tonight?" Michelle asked her daughter, crossing her arms over her chest as Daisy contorted her body.

Michelle Wallace Scott, the settling force behind Jacob's life that allowed him to have so much success. Closing in on a full two decades of marriage, the two had been close, faithful, and loving to each through it all, meaning that Jacob got to avoid the typical love life pitfalls that NBA players tended to fall into. He hadn't impregnated dozens of different strippers, nor had he participated in a whirlwind series of marriages and divorces that cost him a huge chunk of his assets. He stayed with a woman who had loved him before he was wealthy and successful. A woman who wouldn't just see dollar signs after he signed his nine figure contracts and look for any excuse to divorce away a fortune. A woman who happily birthed all six of his children, and raised them to include not only a bombshell tennis queen, but a fifteen year old high school baseball wunderkind, with her currently-preteen children showing their own propensity for athletic achievement as well.

Despite being so obviously amazing, Michelle herself didn't look especially amazing. Well, she was in far better shape and looked much better than any woman who had given birth six times had any right to, and Daisy knew for a fact that more than one of her younger brother's friends had a crush on her. But next to Daisy, Michelle was merely 'pretty', maybe even 'cute', with brown chestnut hair that stopped just short of her shoulders and toned legs from her years as a dancer.

"Not yet," Daisy replied. "What's up?"

"Oh...I just had something to show you," Michelle said, sounding just a tad evasive. "Wanted to see if tonight would be a good night."

"Yeah, sure," Daisy replied, clearly not thinking too much of her mom's offer.

"I think you're old enough now," Michelle added as an afterthought.

Now Daisy was intrigued. Falling down into a prone position on the yoga mat, she gave her mother a curious look.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked.

"You'll find out tonight, if you want to," Michelle said, looking down at her fingernails absentmindedly. "It's just something that helps me relax and get my mind off things. I think it might help you."

"Mom!" Daisy said, sounding just a touch annoyed. "What are you being all cryptic for? Just tell me!"

"Oh, it's something that is best experienced first-hand," Michelle answered. "After dinner?" she suggested, turning around and walking away. "Let me know if something comes up."

Daisy got up into a kneeling position, scratching her fingers through her thick, golden mane of hair. "Should I dress up?" she called out.

"Oh no, whatever is most comfortable for you," her mother answered, leaving her daughter to ponder the mystery. "We won't be leaving the house."

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Part Three: Secrets [03S]

At that point, there wasn't much Daisy wouldn't have been willing to cancel in order to clear her schedule for whatever her mother wanted to show her. It wasn't like her to be playing a prank, where she was just building suspense for something mundane, so she wasn't thinking that as much of a possibility.

After finishing her yoga routine, she showered off, got a massage from the family massage therapist (who basically lived in a guest room of the mansion), and ate dinner. Soon after, Michelle led Daisy down into the basement, confirming that, whatever this was, it was in the house.

But her intrigue spiked especially high when Michelle went over to one of the many large bookshelves down in the northwest corner of the basement, and started pulling out books, seemingly at random, each one being pulled out about halfway before she stopped.

She did it to seven different books, and Daisy was about to ask if she couldn't find what she was looking for, but as soon as the seventh book had been partially removed, a large section of the shelf began to slowly retract down into the floor, with barely so much as a whisper of sound. Daisy's jaw fell open as a secret passageway was revealed.

"You've got to be kidding me," Daisy said after a few seconds to let the surprise pass through her. "Really?" It was so damned corny, straight out of a cartoon or comic book, had her mother just told her about it, she would have laughed it off. So, as usual, the middle-aged matriarch was correct. This was something best experienced first hand. "Why—"

"You'll see," Michelle said, starting to sound a little playful and sly now, reaching down into the descending passageway and flicking a switch on the wall to illuminate a downward staircase. She started down the steps, Daisy standing there behind her, a little hesitant. Wild fantasies ran through her head for a moment, like wondering if her parents were members of some cult, and they were going to sacrifice her to some evil God in a ritual, but just as quickly as those concerns showed up, they disappeared. So too did the thought that her mother was actually a superhero and she was about to reveal her secret lair to her. Far more likely, there was some priceless family heirloom or rare artifact, kept hidden in a vault even more secret and secure than the main vault, that she was finally ready to show her. So, she quickly scurried down the steps after her mother.

"I expect that you'll have the respect and common sense to not tell anyone about this place," Michelle said, not sounding very stern or harsh, as if she knew her daughter's compliance in this matter to be a given. "Not your friends, boyfriends, uncles, aunts, anyone. Under any circumstance."

"Y-yeah," Daisy said, starting to play with a lock of her hair, twirling it around her right index finger. She was looking around the staircase, surprised by how well-maintained and seemingly well-used it was. You'd expect a secret passageway like this to be dark, damp, creaky and eerie, or at least be covered in dust and cobwebs, but it was almost as if these steps were used routinely.

"And, what's down here is not yours, nor is it your right to use it whenever you'd like," Michelle continued, coming to the bottom of the steps, where a steel door that looked like it belonged on a submarine was the only thing waiting for them. "This is a privilege, and I expect you'll treat it with the required respect."

Michelle started punching in a long code of numbers on a keypad in the center of the steel door, Daisy not even bothering trying to spy on her button presses or memorize the passcode. With a pneumatic hiss, the door popped open and slid upward. Daisy eagerly looked over her mother's shoulder, half-expecting the Crown Jewels or a row of authentic Van Goghs to be waiting inside.

Reality was far less impressive. Another room, dull and plain, grey walls all around, two steel doors on the left wall and two on the right, a fifth one on the far wall, each one almost identical to the one they had just passed through. Again, she was surprised by how clean and neat the room looked, as she would have assumed visitors down here were rare, but otherwise nothing in particular caught her attention.

"What is this, a...bomb shelter?" Daisy asked, watching her mother go over to the closest left-side door. A glance down surprised her even further, as the floor was covered in a lush carpet. If there was ever a room in human history that demanded the presence of a cold, hard, bland, concrete floor, it was most certainly a room at the end of a secret hidden passage in the basement. And yet...

"I suppose it could serve as one in a pinch," Michelle admitted, sounding like she enjoyed her daughter's confusion. To the left of the door she was in front of, there was a covered panel, and her left hand was now pulling the panel open to reveal a series of knobs and switches. She flicked a couple of the switches as her right hand reached over to the other side of the door, grabbing a palm-sized device attached to the wall by a cord off of a hook. Michelle cleared her throat and put it up to her mouth. "Assume the position," she said.

"Whoa whoa whoa," Daisy said, finally going into the room and up behind her mother. "What is going on here?! I-If this is some kind of...surprise party, then telling everyone to get into position when I'm standing right here kind of defeats the purpose." She was vaguely aware of the door behind her swinging shut and closing, which instinctively spiked her concern, but she quickly suppressed it.

Michelle's focus, however, was on a clock on the wall right above the main entrance door down into the bunker, a digital timekeeper with large red numbers, keeping time to the second. After waiting what seemed to be about fifteen seconds, she grabbed a tiny knob in the upper center of the door that Daisy hadn't noticed before and pushed it to the right, sliding a circular disc away that was covering up a glass window. Michelle put her face up to the view portal for a second, reaching over towards the panel to her left and flipping another switch.

Daisy, now practically dying of curiosity, craned her head up to peer through the little sliver of window she could. She couldn't help but give a rather sharp yelp of surprise at what she saw.

"Ow!" Michelle hissed, wincing and reaching up towards her right ear. "Sweetie!"

"I...I...what the...mom!" Daisy stammered. "What the hell is this?!"

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Part Four: The Dark Side of the Mom [04TDSOTM]

Through the window, Daisy had been able to see a naked man, restrained in a set of pillory stocks that forced him into a kneeling position close to the ground. The remaining details of the scene had been lost on her, but that had been more than enough to freak her out.

Michelle started to tap a passcode into the keypad on the door. "Didn't you ever wonder what your mother liked to do to take the edge off in her free time?" she asked.

"Uh...not really?" Daisy replied, still utterly confused and contemplating if she should be bolting out of here. She gave her head a quick shake. "Uh, stop being so cryptic! Mom, who the hell is that?!" she pointed towards the door.

"My favorite toy," Michelle answered simply, as if that was supposed to answer all of her daughter's questions. With that, the door started to swing open, another powerful hiss and release of air accompanying the heavy steel moving.

Immediately, Daisy heard a terrified shriek from inside the room, followed by what sounded like whimpers. It seemed like a single second couldn't go by without something else freaking her out and confusing the everloving crap out of her. She just stood there, mouth agape, watching blankly as her mother sauntered forward into the room, towards the tightly imprisoned man.

"Special surprise, baby," she said, in a playful, maybe even sexual, tone that sounded very weird to Daisy, coming out of her mother's mouth. "I know you haven't seen that many different people lately, so I brought someone new for you to meet!" She crouched down over his nude form, still using that bizarre, overly sweet and honeyed tone.

Daisy looked mildly horrified, now seriously contemplating if her mother had gone insane. Her first, and at this point her most optimistic, guess was that her mother had decided it would be a good idea to invite her daughter to an extreme BDSM session with a guy she was cheating on her husband with. And yet, as she looked down at the naked, kneeling man, his wide eyes, shivering body, and contorted expression of abject terror convinced her that his fear and distress was real. Which was no small task, as the thought of anyone ever being scared of her mother was difficult for Daisy to imagine.