Spanking for Two

"Yes, Mommy, I liked it!" I cried, "I liked it when he fucked me, and when he came inside me!  I liked it when I tasted him, and I fucking love it that his cum is inside me!  I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but I liked it!"

She leant forward further, pulling my head back with her hand tightly in my hair, until her lips were by my ear.  "There's my good girl," she breathed, then she bit my earlobe.

Fuck me but I was a total mess by that point.  She'd scared the hell out of me, intimidated me, dominated me, turned me on, forced a confession out of me in the most intense and intimate of interrogations, pulled my hair, tweaked my nipple, was still tweaking my damn nipple, and then to say, 'good girl' and fucking bite me?

I sobbed in response, having never felt such overwhelming emotions.  This was my Mommy, and she'd just played me like... well, fuck it, like only my Mommy could've done.  She knew me better than anyone, and she knew Daddy better than anyone too. 

I suddenly realized she'd planned the whole thing.  I wasn't sure if she'd deliberately been a bitch, and I should hate her, or whether she'd been a sadistic dominatrix, and I should worship her.  Both, probably.  Yeah.  Both.

I whimpered, gripping the table with both hands, not daring to resist her.  Wasn't sure I even could've resisted her if I'd wanted to.

She leant back and looked at me, that devilish smile once more on her lips.

"He told me how submissive you are, you know," she said.  "Funny thing, genetics.  You don't get that from him, that's for sure.  But I'm not sure you get it from me, either.  Oh, I'm submissive to Daddy, that's true enough, but not to anyone else.  Definitely not to anyone else."

She chewed her lip for a moment, contemplating me.  "Is your submission just how you naturally are, or your response to Daddy?" she mused. "I suppose that one's sexual responses are often a product of one's first experience.  I suppose, in your defense, that if your daddy had been my first, too, then he'd have ruined me for other men.  Alas, poor you.  Or lucky you, I suppose."

"Daddy wasn't my first," I said.  Only because it was true, not because I was arguing.

She waved her hand airily.  "That Kenny boy?  Yes, I thought you'd slept with him.  He doesn't count.  Did he rock your world, baby?  Did he make you come so hard you passed out?  Did he make you cry out his name? No, I can see in your eyes that he didn't."

She wasn't wrong there.

"See, most people don't get sex, sweetie.  Now, your daddy... he gets it.  He really gets it.  It's about being in your head as much as it is being in your body.  At the same time, and in the same way.  So that he's totally in you, all at once, and there's no escaping it."

Her face took on a slightly dreamy expression, as if she was thinking back on her experiences at Daddy's hands.  If I hadn't experienced myself exactly what she was referring to, I supposed I'd have been skeptical. But the fact was that she was abso-fucking-lutely right.  He was simply in my head from the moment we began, and it was that more than anything else that drove me to complete obedience, that drove my submission and pushed me, without option, towards orgasm.  Multiple orgasms, I seemed to remember.

She shook her head as if dismissing a thought.  "So, now you're Daddy's slut, and I missed it." She sighed.  "What a time for that stupid work trip.  Been waiting months for this, ever since you turned eighteen -- well, longer than that, as it's been obvious for a while -- but yeah, we weren't going to do anything until you were eighteen, and even then, you had to start it yourself." She smiled at me, "It was only a matter of time, Emma.  You've been like this for years... which, I suppose, answers my own question on your submission.  One of them, anyway."

Abruptly she pulled my top up high, exposing both my breasts as we stood together in the kitchen, her body still pinning me to the table. 

"The other question I had is whether or not you're submissive to me, too," and she cupped my breast in her hand, running her thumb idly over my nipple.

I could only stare at her in shock. I hadn't expected that question, either.  I already knew the answer, too, even if I couldn't find my voice. It seemed rhetorical though; she hadn't insisted on a reply.

"Have you ever been with a girl, Emma?" she asked instead, and this time she obviously expected a response.

"No, Mommy," I whispered.

"Hmm, shame," she shrugged.  "Be easier if you had.  Nevertheless... there's a certain appeal to you being so fresh and innocent, too. Turn around."

I was still reeling from the 'fresh and innocent' comment, trying to fit it into the current context, so it was that I all but missed her instruction to turn.  I certainly didn't respond fast enough, thus it was my own fault when her expression hardened, and her hand came down and slapped across my breast.  I gasped more with surprise than pain at the blow, but my skin was tingling where she'd struck me, and my nipple was suddenly very sensitive.  "I said turn around," and this time I heard her clearly, and obeyed swiftly.

I faced away from her, the edge of the table digging into my thighs, and once more I felt her hand slide into my hair, this time from behind.  Then she was pulling me down across the table, forcing me to bend, pushing my face into the wood as she held me by my hair. 

"Little submissive sluts deserve to be punished, don't they?" she asked me, and I felt her lift my skirt up over my hips.  I was naked beneath, and her hand trailed over the bare skin of my ass.

"Yes, Mommy," I said quickly, trying to show her I'd be good, I'd be compliant, in the hope she wouldn't hurt me too much.

Her hand came down on my up-turned ass with a crack that echoed around the kitchen.  It didn't hurt anywhere near as much as it did when Daddy spanked me, but that wasn't the point.  The point was that Mommy was spanking my bare bottom as she held me pinned by my hair over the kitchen table.  That was a first.  And I was reacting to her.  I couldn't deny how much I was reacting to her.  I could barely think, and I was so turned on.  By my mommy, of all people.

It suddenly made sense why she was with Daddy.  They were made for each other.

"You do have a nice ass," she said, as she landed a solid slap on my other cheek.  "It's really very spankable," she commented, as the next blow returned to the first cheek.  "I suppose it would be, given that you've got my ass, you lucky thing you." She was right there.  We had such similar body types and I really had inherited all her best features, including her ass.

She leant forward over me until her lips were near my ear.  It was very similar to the position I'd found myself in with Daddy, just the day before on the bed.  "Daddy tells me you'd do anything after a good spanking," she murmured, then sunk her sharp little teeth into my earlobe again.  I gasped, trying to pull away, but her hand was still twisted in my hair.  Damn, but she had a sadistic streak to her.  I'd never even have guessed; prior to today, she'd never so much as laid a finger on me.

"Is that right, sweetie?" she asked, licking softly at my earlobe where she'd bitten, then trailing the tip of her warm, wet tongue across my ear. I shivered.  "Are you a good little submissive slut after a spanking?"

It was another question that I couldn't decide how to answer, or even if she expected one at all, but she wasn't done.

"Was that enough for you to decide, dear, or do I need to get the riding crop out?"

Mommy had a riding crop.  By this point, nothing she said would've surprised me.  She could've been bluffing, but I didn't think it likely.  And while her spanking wasn't as strong or as painful as Daddy's had been, I had absolutely no doubt she could make up for it with a riding crop.  I whimpered, and if her purr of response was anything to go by, she seemed to like hearing that noise from me.

I felt her hand move against my nakedness.  Bent over the table as I was, my ass high in the air, she had nothing impeding her access to me.  Her hand moved down over my ass and her fingers pushed between my legs, and immediately we were both made aware of just how wet she had made me.

"Oh, delightful!" she purred against my ear as she easily pushed a finger inside me.  I gasped softly at the touch, my body shivering.  "Such a little submissive slut you are! A little bit of a spanking and you're all wet for me.  Are you going to do exactly as you're told, or do I have to punish you... harder?"

There was such implied threat in that last word that it was easy to respond.  "I will obey you, Mommy, I swear."

She purred again, a throaty sound, full of sex and promise.  "There's my good little slut."  She gave my ass another sharp slap.  "Upstairs with you, girl." I felt her release her hold in my hair, and I stood slowly. "And be prepared to obey, or you can guarantee that riding crop is coming out."

I no longer thought she was bluffing.  "Yes, Mommy."

She followed me as I headed for the stairs, and I was very much reminded of a similar situation with Daddy.  This time I knew she'd want me to turn left and go to their room, not my own.  I felt butterflies in my stomach as to what that might mean. 

"Have you ever been with a girl, Emma?"

Something told me that was about to all change, and the girl in question was to be my Mommy. 

I walked into my parent's room, reflecting that I'd spent more time here than in my own the past few days. 

"Strip, Emma," she said from behind me as she entered.  "You're way too overdressed for the little slut I know you to be."

I didn't take this in a derogatory way.  I knew she was a little slut too, and felt a certain bond with her for that similarity.  We were both Daddy's little sluts, and it just so happened that she was going to make me hers, too.  I pulled off my strappy top as I reflected on this, then unfastened my skirt and let it fall down my legs to the floor.  That easily I was naked, but she still beat me to it.  All she had to do was remove her robe.  I watched her lie down on the bed, and knew I was looking at myself twenty years from now.  Not bad, not bad at all.  I'd be very happy looking like that when I'd passed forty.

She had the curves of womanhood but the leanness of someone who regularly saw the inside of a gym.  She was toned without being muscular, courtesy of her Pilates and yoga, and her breasts and ass were tight and firm.  I had all that without going to the gym, gifted to me by age instead of effort, and aside from a few laughter lines showing her age, we could've been twins.  We were often mistaken for sisters, and looking at her as she lay naked on the bed, it was as much a compliment for me as it was for her.

I saw that her mons was perfectly smooth, just like mine, but as she lay on the bed her legs were still together, and I could not be sure if she waxed her labia.  From what Daddy had said, I'd place bets on it being a yes, and I chewed my lip nervously knowing that, in just a few moments, I'd have intimate, firsthand knowledge myself.

"Come to me," she said softly, patting the bed.  "I want to be able to look at you, to touch you."

I'd promised to obey her anyway, but her request was so gentle in nature I never thought to resist.  I climbed onto the bed, crawling to her on all fours, conscious of the heat in her gaze as she watched me. 

"Mmm," she purred, and I saw her eyes flick to the mirror that ran the length of the wall behind me.  I imagine it gave a pretty good view of my ass, and it seemed she liked that.  Daddy liked it too; something else they both had in common.

She held her arms out to me, and I went to her, half aware of how rarely Mommy had offered me a cuddle in the past, and extremely conscious that we were both naked, and this wasn't for comfort.  She drew me into her, our breasts pushing together as she pulled me over her, and I felt her hand slide down my back, her fingers splaying over the top of my ass.  Then she kissed me, and all other thoughts were momentarily driven from me. 

Her lips were soft, her hand stroked my face gently as she kissed, and she teased my lips with her tongue until I opened to her.  Then her hand slid into my hair, and she held my head still as she probed my mouth.  I whimpered beneath her kiss, held helplessly by her but not wanting to pull away.

"Mmm, you taste nice," she said as she broke the kiss.  "Like fresh strawberries, with a hint of innocence just waiting to be stripped away." She giggled at her own commentary, a wicked sound that carried promise of what she wanted to do to me.

Her hand twisted in my hair again, gripping me tight, while her other clenched around my bare ass, pulling me to her.  "God, I've been waiting ages for this moment," she murmured to me.  "And now you're naked and submissive, and all mine."

I shivered at the intensity of her words, and what that might mean for me.

"I can't wait any longer," she said, "I need your tongue between my legs." She began pushing down on my head, her insistence adding to her command.

I slid down her body, kissing and licking as I went, and she seemed willing to allow me to delay, to tease, so long as my progress was consistently south.  For my part I didn't really know what I was doing, so placing kisses across her breasts, a small lick on her nipple, and running the tip of my tongue down over her tummy merely served to postpone the moment when I would have to show my inexperience.

But as I slipped lower her legs parted beneath me, her hand still entwined within my hair and pushing me, until there was no further way to delay.  Her sex was open before me and I could see her arousal, glistening on her smooth labia.  I was struck with the incongruous thought that even her pussy looked similar to my own, but then she was done waiting and, with her fingers tightly gripping my hair, she pulled my face against her.

We both gasped at that initial contact; her, for at last having the stimulation she'd been seeking; me, for the first touch, the first taste of a woman's sex against my face.  Her hips lifted slightly as she rubbed me against her, and I felt her arousal coat my nose and cheeks. 

"Fuck yes," she moaned, "I'm going to have you between my legs for hours, my little slut."  Her other hand came into my hair, her grip on me absolute.  "Now, lick.  Lick, and don't stop licking, or I will punish you until you are begging to be allowed to obey."

That was a threat I could only take seriously, and swiftly I opened my mouth to comply, pushing my tongue against her sex, licking from her entrance up towards her clit.  She tasted clean and fresh and ever so slightly tangy, and I was struck by how similar she tasted to me.  She held me to her as I licked, her hands guiding my face and my mouth where she wanted them; up a little higher when she needed me to focus on her clit, or pushed down low when she wanted me to push my tongue inside her as far as I could reach.  She raised her knees and parted them, tilting her pelvis more toward me, and gasped as I pleasured her.

"Lick harder, little slut," she moaned, and I redoubled my efforts lest I be found displeasing, and she felt a punishment was required.  She had me held at her entrance and I lapped her arousal from inside her, and by this point my face was coated with her juices.  I did not know how long I had been pleasuring her, only that my jaw was beginning to ache from the constant licking.  Not that I would dare complain, or that I really wanted to stop.  I didn't.  There was something so wonderfully enjoyable about hearing her small moans and gasps as my tongue found a particularly sensitive spot.

She pulled me back up to her clit, and her hips bucked beneath my mouth when I circled her clit back and forth.  "Push a finger inside me," she instructed, and I hastened to obey.  She was slick and smooth beneath my touch, her pussy clenching around my finger with a tightness and strength that was surprising.  Bless yoga, I thought.  I would most certainly have to look into that, if I wanted to keep pleasing Daddy.

"Yesss," she hissed, "just like that."

My earlier concern that I did not have the experience faded as I'd found things she liked, and while I was sure I had much to learn, I took great satisfaction and delight in hearing her moans increase in pitch, until her hands gripped my hair almost painfully and her hips pushed upwards against my mouth.  I licked over her clit, my tongue working as hard as I could make it, until she cried out and I was rewarded with a rush of wetness over my hand.

"Good girl," she gasped softly, her body relaxing beneath my mouth and hand, but she did not release her hold on my hair nor pull me away, so I continued to lap at her, licking up the remnants of her orgasm.  I couldn't help but smile as I did so, knowing I had made Mommy come.  It was almost as satisfying, in its own way, as feeling Daddy spurt his seed into my mouth.

At last she drew me up her body once more, and at first I thought she wished to cuddle, but it quickly became apparent she had other ideas.  She lifted one leg with a flexibility that I could only envy, pulling my hips against hers, and quickly her intent became apparent.  I'd never done such a thing before either, but it seemed natural to move my hips in a way that matched hers, and my eyes widened at the sensations the movement produced.

She chuckled throatily.  "You like that, don't you?"

"Fuck yes," I said, as we moved together against one another.

"And you've taken to it so naturally, too.  You really are your Mommy's daughter, aren't you?"

"A slut like you?" I asked, playfully, still rubbing my sex against hers.

She reached up and tweaked my nipple, hard.  "Rude little girl," she said, but I could tell she didn't mean it.  My nipple still hurt though.

Then we were focused on the movements of our hips, the rhythm of working together and finding the pressures and friction that enabled us to both gain our pleasure. 

We hadn't been at it all that long when I heard a key in the front door.

"Oh, perfect timing," she murmured.  Then, to me, "No, don't stop."

I could hear his footsteps on the stairs, and though I had slowed when I'd first heard him, at Mommy's insistence I quickly found the rhythm again. He came into the bedroom behind me and stopped abruptly.

"Well," he said, "that's quite the view."

"Hello, Daddy," and it took me a moment to realize that Mommy and I had spoken the same words in unison.  We both started giggling, and then our rhythm was lost, and we giggled harder, until for some reason it was just so funny that we were in convulsions on the bed together, laughing and laughing as Daddy watched with a somewhat bemused expression.

"I'm glad you both find me so entertaining," he said, stepping forward, his tone only half serious.  I knew he didn't really think we were laughing at him, and we hadn't been anyway. We wouldn't have dared.

"Careful," Mommy stage-whispered to me, knowing full well he could hear, "that's the sort of tone he uses right before he starts spanking."  Then, to him, "Hello, my love, wouldn't you like to spank Emma?"

But two could play at that game.  I turned to look at him over my shoulder, finding Mommy's breast with my hand as I did so and tweaking her nipple, knowing he could see.  "Daddy, I would so like to watch you spank Mommy.  I've been dreaming about it since I heard you two the other day."

He chuckled, watching us both.  "I quite agree," he said, solemnly.