Owning My Friend's MombyMr Creator©
"Oh, I'm sorry mom. I'm heading to the early show with Carol and Joan. I gotta run. I hope you don't mind?" she asked.
"Uh.....no I suppose that's OK. Make sure you grab something to eat there then. Don't just fill up on popcorn, alright?" she admonished.
"OK, mom," she replied sheepishly.
"See ya, Greg," she hollered as she ran out the door.
"Well, I guess it's just going to be you and me for supper, Greg," Mrs. Clark announced.
"I guess so." Putting a serious look on his face, Greg pressed on with the plan. "You know, Mrs. C., you really didn't set a good example for your daughter this evening. You knew the right thing to do, yet you procrastinated and stalled in doing it. Was this how you want your daughter to act, Mrs. C?" Greg demanded.
"Well........no. Of course not, Greg." she replied.
"Then, you do realize that there are going to be consequences for your inappropriate behavior?"
"But.....I.......it's just......." she stammered.
"Now stop, Mrs. C," Greg hollered, slamming his hand down on the table with a resounding crack, startling her into silence. "I think you've dug a deep enough hole for yourself. You don't want to make it any worse by continuing to argue. What would your daughter think if she could see you now, arguing like this," he said disdainfully.
Completely awash in confusion, Mrs. Clark bowed her head in defeat and muttered, "I'm sorry."
"As you should be Mrs. C., now as a consequence of your actions you are going to march into that bathroom," pointing to the one just off the kitchen, "and remove your bra and panties. You will then march back out here and hand them to me. Is that clear?" Greg demanded, raising his voice again for emphasis and to hopefully keep her off balance.
"But.....I......didn't mean to," she pleaded. Her thoughts were a jumbled mass of confusion. She didn't know what was happening anymore, or what to think, but her body seemed to have a mind of its own, and started responding without her even realizing it.
The next thing she knew, she was in the bathroom and had already removed her bra and was in the process of pulling down her panties. As she stepped out of them, she got a whiff of something and realized, with a shock, that it was the smell of her arousal. Looking at her panties, she could see the crotch was damp with her secretions.
"What's happening to me?" she asked herself. She couldn't come to grips with the feelings coursing through her and stimulating her private areas. Not only was her vagina dripping wet, but her nipples were rock hard, as they pressed against the thin fabric of the blouse. With a face as red as a beet, Mrs. Clark opened the door to the bathroom and hesitantly walked over to Greg. Without making eye contact, she dropped her bra and panties into his outstretched hand.
Greg casually placed the bundle of undergarments on the table beside his plate, where they both could see them. He hoped it would help to keep Mrs. Clark off balance, since the most daring part of his plan came next. He looked at Mrs. Clark and liked what he saw. He could clearly see the outline of Mrs. Clark's nipples, as they pressed against her blouse, and it only served to accentuate her breasts even more. He could feel his cock getting harder and harder, just looking at her.
"Now, Mrs. C., it's not that I don't trust you, you understand. But I would be remiss if I didn't, at least, confirm that you did as you were asked. It's not as if you've been well behaved to this point," Greg scolded.
Like a child, Mrs. Clark responded, "I'm sorry, Greg. I didn't mean to....I tried....."
"I know you did, Mrs. C., but I have to make sure you're telling me the truth. I need to know that you're serious about being a good role model for your daughter. You could have just given me an old pair of underwear you had lying around in the bathroom."
Mrs. Clark just hung her head in defeat. She didn't know if she could resist the urges in her body, even if she wanted to.
"Mrs. C., you WILL undo the buttons on your blouse and pull the material apart, so that I can confirm this for myself," Greg directed sternly. He held his breath in excited anticipation.
With only the slightest of hesitations, her body screaming for release, Mrs. Clark began to undo the remaining buttons of her blouse. Her face was still a deep red, and the blush was now making its way down her neck and onto her shoulders. Her head hung low as she found it completely impossible to look up and make any sort of eye contact with Greg. When at last she had them all undone, and with obviously shaking hands, she slowly pulled the material apart until both globes were completely visible to Greg.
"Very good, Mrs. C., we're almost done. Leave your shirt like that. Now, with both hands, you WILL grasp the sides of your skirt and slowly pull it up to your waist. That way, I will be able to confirm that you have done the right thing," Greg coaxed.
Not thinking it was possible, Mrs. Clark turned an even darker red as she began to plead, "please?" hoping to change Greg's mind.
"Just close your eyes, Mrs. C., and pretend I'm not even here. It'll be over before you even know it," he continued to coax.
Screwing her eyes tightly closed, Mrs. Clark left her shirt hanging open and reached down, grasping both sides of her skirt in each hand. As if her body had a mind of its own, she began to slowly pull the hem of her skirt up. Her juices were now flowing freely and small rivulets ran down the inside of her legs. She was sure that Greg would be able to see and smell her arousal now. She knew, deep down, she shouldn't be doing this, but she was so confused, and at a loss to explain what was happening to her. Her mind kept flashing back to the events in the stories she had read last night. She felt as if it was all just a dream, and that she would wake up soon and everything would be as it should.
While she was slowly pulling up her skirt, Greg grabbed his camera and began snapping pictures as she humiliated herself in front of him. As the hem continued to rise, her pussy mound finally came into sight. Greg could see that her hair color was natural as the pubes of her pussy were also dirty blond in color.
When she finally had the skirt completely bunched around her waist, Greg ordered, "now turn around slowly so that I can confirm you're not wearing anything."
With her breasts hanging out, nipples as hard as rock, and her pussy and ass clearly on display, she slowly rotated in the middle of the kitchen floor. Her eyes were still screwed tightly shut, making it very easy for Greg to continue to photograph her without her knowledge. As her ass came into view, Greg was absolutely beside himself with excitement. He was rock hard and was stunned by how beautiful her ass was. It was simply perfection. He couldn't wait to get into it.
When she had turned completely around, and was once again facing him, Greg put his camera away and directed her to stop. "You can lower your skirt now Mrs. C, but keep your blouse the way it was." Standing up, he walked over to where Mrs. Clark stood, and, towering over her, said "To be a good role model for your daughter, you need to realize that there are consequences for your actions. If you had simply done what was right in the very beginning, then none of this would have been necessary," he chided her, like a father to a child, mimicking the manner found in the sex stories from last night. "Because of what you've done, you've caused me to suffer some intense discomfort," gesturing to his own crotch region and the obvious hard-on he had. With firm pressure on her shoulders, he ordered "get on your knees, Mrs. C. You are going to make this situation all better, so that we can put it all behind us, and get on with supper."
When she was finally on her knees, she found herself staring into the crotch of his pants and wondering how she got there. She was no longer in control of herself and was convinced that it was all just a dream.
Reaching into his pants, Greg pulled out his cock, and held it in front of him. He couldn't remember ever being this hard and turned on before, and knew that it would take very little to cum now. Continuing with his instructions, he directed Mrs. Clark "Take your right hand and begin stroking it, until you have relieved the problem which you created. Keep your eyes closed, Mrs. C., it'll make it easier for you," he coaxed.
Closing her eyes, Mrs. Clark reached out and grasping his cock with her right hand, began to stroke the shaft. Greg quickly pulled out his camera and snapped some more money shots of Mrs. Clark kneeling at his feet, breasts hanging out and stroking his cock. Greg knew that he had everything he would need now, to ensure that Mrs. Clark belonged to him and would do exactly as he ordered.
Putting the camera away, Greg felt his orgasm building in his balls and knew that he would explode very soon. Before he did, Greg instructed Mrs. Clark, "I'm going to have relief soon Mrs. C., so I want you to point it at your breasts when I do. Make sure every drop lands on them. Is that clear?" he sternly asked.
Simply nodding her head, Mrs. Clark began to speed up her strokes, and lowered the tip of his cock until it was pointing directly at her breasts. With a gurgled yell, Greg's orgasm exploded out of him, and spurt after spurt of semen shot out and splashed all over her breasts, with some running down the crevice between them.
When at last she had milked the last drop of cum from him, she just stared intently at the white mass of fluid covering her breasts. It felt so real, but she knew it couldn't be, and that it must all be just a dream. She was so tired.
Seeing her lost in thought, staring at her breasts and his sticky load, Greg quickly grabbed his camera and snapped one more picture, of her cum covered breasts. After he had the camera safely tucked away, and his cock back in his pants, he ordered "Mrs. C., I want you rub the nice cream into your skin now. It's good for the skin," he said with a smile on his face.
As if she was on auto-pilot, she took a breast in each hand and began massaging his cum into them. When the last drop had been massaged in, her breasts glistened and her nipples were red and engorged from the attention to them. The kitchen, and now Mrs. Clark, reeked of sex.
Stepping back and taking a seat again, Greg instructed Mrs. Clark, "You can do your shirt up now, Mrs. C. I believe you. You've done very well today and have been a very good role model for your daughter." As she finished buttoning her blouse and began to stand up again, Greg added "Oh, Mrs. C., I want you to leave that cream in until tomorrow morning. You are not to wash it off until then. Is that clear?"
Eyes glazed, mind in a complete fog, and her body numb from the stimulus overload, Mrs. Clark simply nodded her head yes and went over to the stove, to remove the supper from the oven.
For the rest of the meal, Greg again pretended that nothing unusual had happened and talked about inconsequential topics. When he was done eating, Greg excused himself and said that he had to head home, but that he would be back tomorrow morning. And without further ado, Greg ran out the back door and practically sprinted home.
Greg spent the rest of the evening looking over the pictures he had printed off, and reading more of the stories on the site Mrs. Clark had originally visited. The more he read, the more ideas he got for things to do with Mrs. Clark. He ended up masturbating several more times that evening, each time ending with an explosive climax.
The next morning, after having a restless sleep, Greg arose, showered and headed back over to the Clark residence. Armed with the photos from last night, and copies of the stories she had read, Greg had everything he would need, to own Mrs. Clark.
As he walked in the back door of the home, he found Mrs. Clark already in the kitchen cooking eggs. She was dressed in an old frumpy sweater and slacks again. From that, Greg knew that she must have come to her senses, either sometime last night or this morning and was probably preparing for a confrontation. With a smile, Greg thought to himself, 'bring it on!'
"Hi Mrs. C., how was your night last night?" he asked in a jovial tone.
Blushing a deep red, but keeping her back to him, Mrs. Clark began, "Look, Greg, I think we need to talk. Since Stacey is still sleeping, this is probably the best time for it." Taking a deep breath she continued, "I don't know how it happened last night, I must not have been feeling well or something, but what DID happen was wrong. It should never have happened. It's my fault, but I think it would be best if we tried to put it behind us and pretend it never happened," she reasoned.
"Well, I'm sorry you think that Mrs. C, but to be quite honest, I don't give a shit!" he said with emphasis.
"What? I beg your pardon?" Mrs. Clark asked.
"Well, you see, Anne," stressing her first name, "it's like this. I own you, and the shit I have, here in my hand, guarantees that," holding up the stories and photos.
With a worried look spreading over her face, "What do you mean?"
"Do these stories look familiar, Anne?" Greg asked throwing the copies down on the table in front of her.
With trembling hands, she picked them up, and after scanning the first page, blanched white as a ghost. "How? Where did you get these? What the hell is going on?" She asked with a tremble in her voice.
"I thought I was already quite clear on this matter. Are you stupid, too?" he asked condescendingly.
Grasping at straws she began, "These stories don't mean anything...You can't prove anything."
"Oh, I beg to differ. These photos I think will tell quite a different story." Throwing one picture down at a time he began asking, "Does this look familiar? How about this one? What about this one where you're showing me your tits and cunt? Or this one, where you are kneeling at my feet, stroking my cock? I think these pictures will certainly corroborate what I am saying?" Letting it sink in for a minute, Greg then moved in for the kill. "What do you think your daughter will do when she finds out what you've done? Or how about the pastor at church, the principal at Stacey's school, her teachers, your parents? Hmm? You think they'll understand?"
"Oh my God. How did you...when...why are you doing this?" she asked with a plaintive whine as panic began to set in. "Is it money you want?"
"Again, I've already told you what I want. You. I own you. You belong to me. You will do exactly what I tell you to do, without argument, or there will be severe consequences. Is any of this sinking in Anne?" he asked.
"But why....?" she began again. She was terrified at what she was hearing, but also becoming very aroused on a purely physical level.
"Enough with the stupid questions already," Greg interjected. "I think it's pretty clear, from the stories you've been reading and the pictures you've been looking at, as well as how easily you were controlled last night, that this is something you need or perhaps even crave. I'm just happy to satisfy that craving for you. Now, I've already covered this. Either you do EXACTLY what I say, or I start sending these pictures to everyone in this town, including your daughter. The choice is yours. What's it going to be Anne?" Greg demanded.
"Please, nobody must know. This will destroy my daughter."
"Very well. But understand this. If at any time you decide to cancel our agreement, then this all becomes public knowledge. I will not tolerate any disobedience from you. If you disobey me or argue with me over any order given, then you will be punished - just like in the stories. Is that clear?"
Hanging her head in defeat, Mrs. Clark uttered a very quiet "yes." Despite the obvious wrongness of it all, she couldn't stop her body from responding to the situation and becoming more and more aroused with each passing minute.
"Now, on to the first order of business. Since you've seen fit to disobey me, by wearing those clothes and by arguing with me, you are now going to be punished," Greg explained.
"But I didn't......you never said....." Mrs. Clark began to stammer.
"Shut up! I don't want to hear excuses, Anne. Or shall I add another punishment to the list for arguing with me now?" Greg pressed.
"No please, I'll do as you say," Mrs. Clark pleaded.
"Then take off those offending clothes now," Greg ordered. From the shocked look on her face, Greg figured she was preparing for another round or arguments, but to his surprise, she simply closed her mouth, hung her head in shame and began undressing in front of him.
When she had removed her pants and sweater, Greg took them from her and ordered, "The bra and panties too, Anne." Again, it looked as if Mrs. Clark was going to argue, but then thought better of it, and did as she was told.
Once she stood completely naked in front of Greg, he began to explain to her what he wanted her to do next. "You are now going to march upstairs to your bedroom dressed just the way you are."
"But Stacey might wake..." she began to whine.
Cutting her off once again, "then you'd better walk quietly, hadn't you?" Greg replied condescendingly.
Continuing, "On the way to your room, you will knock on Stacey's door telling her it's time to wake up. Once you are in your room, you will head to the bathroom and will shave off all of the hair on your pussy. Are you getting this so far, Anne?" Greg asked.
Nodding her head, "yes."
"Good. Once your pussy is shaved clean, you will then dress in the shortest and tightest skirt you own and the tightest most see-through blouse you own. Got it?"
Another nod of her head.
"Then get moving," Greg ordered.
On wobbly legs, Mrs. Clark scurried out of the kitchen and began to tiptoe upstairs. Excuses began to run through her head, as she tried to come up with one that would make sense, were Stacey to come out of her room now and see her mother standing naked in front of her. Thankfully, Stacey was still asleep, and did not wake until Mrs. Clark had knocked several times upon the door. When she heard Stacey groggily respond, Mrs. Clark informed her it was time to get up and then sprinted the remainder of the way to her own bedroom, shutting the door as quickly as she could.
She stood with her back to the door for several seconds, as she tried to catch her breath and make sense of what was happening to her. Outwardly she knew what was happening was wrong, and for the life of her, she couldn't understand why she was complying. She knew she should be resisting. It felt like something inside of her was twisting her guts inside out. Locking the door, she walked unsteadily to her bathroom, grabbed her razor and cream, and, sitting upon the toilet, prepared to shave her pubic hair. It was with a start that she noticed her pussy beginning to dampen. Her mere touch was enough to send electrical shocks shooting through her pussy. This only added to the confusing emotions running amok within her. With a dizzy head, she applied the cream and began shaving her nether region, as delicately as she could.
As she made her final pass along the side of one of her pussy lips, she noted that her pussy was now soaking wet from her ministrations. The urge to masturbate was nearly overpowering, but something deep inside her told her to resist the urge, and with shaky resolve, she closed her legs and rose to get dressed.
As she stood in front of her closet, she contemplated the orders Greg had given her. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to put on panties and a bra, or just the blouse and skirt. Things were still a bit foggy for her. As she mulled this over, she had another shock, when she realized that she began to ask herself, 'what would please Greg?' to help her make her decision.