"See you Mom, I'm heading to the mall with Carol and Joan," Stacey hollered as she headed for the back door. "Oh hey, Greg, I didn't hear you come in. "Have you got anything planned for today?" Stacey asked as she entered the kitchen.
"Nah. I just dropped in for some breakfast. "I'll probably head over to the basketball courts this afternoon to shoot some hoops," replied Greg with a grin.
"Alright. I'll see you later, have fun." Stacey waved goodbye as she ran out the door.
It was the first week of summer vacation. Stacey and Greg had just finished grade 11 and were looking forward to a relaxing summer before starting grade 12. They had known each other their entire lives and, until the last few years, had been best of friends. They were still close, but over time they had begun to drift slowly apart as their interests and friends took them in different directions. It hadn't always been that way.
Stacey Clark was an only child and lived with her mother. She never knew her father, since he had passed away when she was only 1 year old. Around that time, Greg Adams and his ****** had moved in next door. Since Greg was only a year older than Stacey, they became instant friends. They did everything together, including going to the same school. However, when Greg was 10 years old, his parents fell on hard times and were forced to sell the house and move to another part of town. Greg and Stacey's friendship continued, but as they entered puberty, things began to slowly change. Through that period, Stacey developed into a beautiful woman. Though she only stood 5'3" tall and weighed 115 lbs, she was proportionately well-built. She had wavy, shoulder-length auburn hair and dark almond-colored eyes. Her high cheekbones and cute little nose, topped with a few freckles, gave her that innocent "girl next door" appearance. Apart from her height, her measurements were those of a model. She had perfectly shaped breasts that fit neatly into a 'B' cup bra, followed by a slender, firm waist and a perfectly rounded ass, held up by a pair of slender, shapely legs. All in all, she was a gorgeous package.
Greg developed as well, but not nearly as pronouncedly as Stacey. He grew to 5'11" tall and weighed 175 lbs. He had short, dirty blond hair, brown eyes, and average facial features. His body and skin were BLACK, but not overly muscular. The best thing you could say about him was that he was average. Not overly good at any one thing.
As they entered puberty, Greg's feelings for Stacey began to change. He took notice of the beautiful woman she was becoming and developed strong feelings for her. He was too shy, though, to let her know how he was feeling, and so he continued to watch her from the sidelines as they slowly drifted apart. His feelings for her became an obsession as the years passed and the distance continued to grow. They were still good friends and saw each other practically every day, but it became more and more difficult for Greg as he watched her date, other boys. Stacey's mom was like a second mom for Greg, and she welcomed him into their home anytime. He would often just walk in, sit down at the kitchen table, and her mom would make him something to eat. He was like another member of the ******. Mrs. Clark didn't mind since she knew Greg's parents were still having financial and marital difficulties. So Greg would look for every opportunity to get out of the house and away from that situation.
Greg's obsession with Stacey took a dark turn as he began to conspire for ways to get information on her and, hopefully, get her to notice and start taking an interest in him. He devised a plan that, he hoped, would give him some form of leverage to use against her. Two days ago, while hanging out at the Clark residence, watching some TV, he put this plan into action. He slipped onto their computer while Stacey was out with some friends and Mrs. Clark was in the kitchen cooking supper. Greg quickly installed the invisible 'key logger' program he had brought with him on a memory stick. The program was designed to silently log all keystrokes made by the user and would also take periodic screenshots and then e-mail the entire package, every 5 minutes, to his e-mail address. All of this would happen in the background, without the user ever being aware.
The first night was rather unremarkable and mostly involved Stacey talking with her girlfriends on MSN Messenger about their plans for the upcoming weekend. Still, the next night something happened that was so unexpected and unbelievable that it set in motion an event that went way beyond anything Greg had ever imagined possible. After eating supper at the Clark's again, Greg indicated that he was not feeling well and was going to go home and head to bed early. He, of course, ran home and quickly logged onto his computer, expecting Stacey to get on again and begin talking with her friends. However, unbeknownst to him, Stacey had gotten a last-minute call from one of her girlfriends asking if she wanted to come over for the night to watch a couple of movies with the girls.
After about a half hour had passed, Greg's account began to receive e-mails from the keylogger program. As he began to read through the first email, Greg was beside himself with excitement. The email showed that Stacey was Googling pornographic websites, specifically sites that cataloged and stored sex stories. As he checked the screenshots and the text that was being typed into the search bar, he found that she was looking for stories that dealt with S&M, dominance and submission, bondage, and humiliation. The next e-mail had a screenshot of the story that she was reading, since the next several e-mails all had screenshots of the same story, just a few pages later. Greg hastily typed in the website information and quickly navigated to the story in question. The story was entitled "My Pet Teacher" and was about a young female teacher who got blackmailed into submission by one of her grade 12 students. The story described numerous sexual acts that were designed to punish and humiliate the teacher. The story was hot and was a tremendous turn-on for Greg. He had never really considered going that far, but the thought of it intrigued him.
As the e-mails continued to come in, Greg saw that Stacey had moved on to another story called "The Making of an Office Slut," which dealt with a female office executive who was also blackmailed into submission by her secretary and was forced into performing various sexually degrading, painful, and humiliating acts. As he read through the second story, Greg couldn't help but begin to masturbate as he imagined Stacey doing the same thing as she read through the story.
After having an explosive orgasm in one of his discarded sweat socks, Greg saw that Stacey had moved on and was now Googling sites that had free sex pictures for viewing. Many of the photos showed women in various states of bondage being clamped, whipped, spanked, or dumped on. Other pictures showed women on their knees gagging on massive cocks, which filled their mouths and throats, all eventually getting cum facials. Yet others had women getting gang-banged by numerous men, filling all of their orifices at once.
Greg was floored. He had never expected this! On a whim, Greg grabbed the phone and dialed Stacey's number, hoping to catch her in an awkward moment.
"Hello."
"Oh hi, Mrs. C. Can I talk with Stacey, please?" Greg asked Mrs. Clark.
"No, I'm sorry. Greg, but soon after you left, Stacey got a call from Carol asking if she wanted to come over and watch some movies. She left soon after you did," Mrs. Clark replied.
After a moment's pause, Greg asked, "So, you're the only home right now?"
"Yes, that's right. It's just been me this evening." Is there something I can help you with, Greg?" Mrs. Clark asked politely.
"Umm, no, that's fine, Mrs. C. I'll talk to Stacey tomorrow," Greg quickly replied.
"Alright then, good night, Greg."
"Goodnight, Mrs. C." Greg slowly hung up the phone and continued to stare at the receiver for several minutes. This was a curveball he certainly hadn't expected.
For the first time, Greg began to think about Mrs. Clark in a very different way. He had never really noticed before, but she was just an older version of Stacey. She had gotten pregnant with Stacey just after her 16th birthday, so that meant she was only 34 years old right now. 'Not really that old at all,' he thought to himself. strange, which he had never noticed before. She was a couple of inches taller than Stacey, but from what he could see through the slightly baggy clothing she always wore, her figure was very similar to Stacey's. She had slightly longer, straighter, and darker-colored hair than Stacey but had the same eyes and facial features.
Reading through the stories again, a plan began to take shape in Greg's mind. If he couldn't have Stacey, maybe he could have her mother instead.
The next morning, Greg got up early and headed over to the Clarks. He let himself in, as he always did, and sat at the kitchen table, reading the paper. He had a hard time focusing on the words on the page and found his mind constantly wandering back to the plan he had formulated last night. When Stacey walked into the kitchen, hollering to her mother that she was heading out to the mall with her friends, Greg hardly noticed her; he was so deep in thought.
When she asked him a question, he found he had to struggle to focus on her and come up with an answer. He managed to blurt out something about going to shoot hoops and was glad when she left it at that and ran out the door with a quick wave. Now he was home alone with her mom and could start to put his plan into action.
He continued to sit at the table and pretend to read the paper until he heard Mrs. Clark enter.
"Oh, hi, Greg."
"Hi, Mrs. C. Did you have a good night last night?" Greg asked very pointedly, staring intently at her. She was wearing another one of her bland, baggy sweaters and a pair of unflattering pants. Greg realized that the entire time he had known her, he could never recall seeing her in anything else.
Looking at Greg with an odd expression on her face, she hesitantly replied, "Umm. Yes, I did. Thank you."
After a pause, "Would you like some breakfast, Greg?"
"Yes, that would be fine, Mrs. C," Greg replied, still looking intently at her.
As she turned and busied herself at the stove, Greg gathered his thoughts and tried to muster the courage to proceed with his plan, praying a silent prayer that it would work. When a few minutes had passed, he reached out and intentionally knocked over his glass of milk, spilling it onto the floor by his feet.
Hearing the accident, Mrs. Clark spun around to see what had happened. Seeing that it was just a bit of spilled milk, she began to walk toward the closet to retrieve the mop.
"No, Mrs. C., don't use that. Use this," Greg quickly replied, holding up a dish towel he had conveniently placed on the table next to the milk.
Without even thinking about it, Mrs. Clark changed directions and walked over to the table to take the cloth from Greg's outstretched hands. If she hadn't had such a sleepless night last night because her thoughts had been plagued with images from the stories and pictures, she probably would have thought it odd that Greg didn't clean up the mess himself.
She dropped the cloth on the spilled milk and was going to use her foot to move it around, but Greg spoke up again. "No, Mrs. C. You should get on your hands and knees to clean it up. It's the only way to make sure you do a good job," he said with a touch of authority in his voice.
Responding as if she were in a fog, Mrs. Clark slowly dropped to her knees at Greg's feet and began, hesitantly, to clean up the mess. Greg felt energized, with Stacey's mom kneeling at his feet and cleaning up after him. He knew he had to proceed carefully from here, or else he would risk blowing it all.
As she continued to work, Greg began in a conversational tone of voice, "You know, Mrs. C., I was reading somewhere that a proper and decent woman wears a blouse and a skirt. You are a proper and decent woman, aren't you, Mrs. C.?" Greg asked, again staring at her intently.
Sensing his intent gaze and confusion about the strange feelings running rampant through her as she knelt at his feet, Mrs. Clark began to color slightly at the cheeks and could not look him in the eyes. Her thoughts were jumbled, and she had a difficult time formulating a response. When she realized he expected her to answer, she finally managed to mumble, "Yes. I guess so."
Sensing her confusion and weakness, Greg pressed the attack. "Well, if you are indeed a 'proper and decent woman', then shouldn't you also dress in that fashion?" he asked.
Head still bowed and turning a deeper red, Mrs. Clark stuttered, "Well, it's just... I guess so."
"Well, alright then. It's settled. Next time I see you, you should be dressed that way," Greg replied amicably, sensing a win. "I think you've got it all cleaned up now, Mrs. C. You can get up now."
Flushed a deep red, Mrs. Clark rose on unsteady legs and walked back over to the stove to continue cooking breakfast. For the rest of the meal, Greg acted as if nothing had happened and talked about various topics like school, sports, and local events.
Once he had finished eating, he informed Mrs. Clark, "I'm going to head out to the school to shoot some hoops, but I would like to drop by for supper, if that's alright with you?"
Having regained some of her composure and feeling more at ease with the rest of the conversation she had with Greg, she readily replied, "Certainly Greg. You know you are always welcome here."
"Thanks, Mrs. C. I've got to go now." Greg waved goodbye as he headed for the back door. As he stepped outside, he took a deep breath to steady himself and prayed that the suggestion he had planted in her would take root and come to fruition later on.
*******************************
It was late in the afternoon and nearing supper when Greg finally decided to head back for supper. He had sort of wandered for most of the day, trying to waste as much time as he could, shooting hoops, hanging out at the mall, and heading down to the skate park before heading back to the Clark's.
As he walked up the back steps, Greg's stomach was roiling with anxiety and fear since he did not know what he was going to find when he walked into the house. The first thing he noticed was the smell of supper cooking in the oven. That was certainly a good sign. As he entered the kitchen, he saw Mrs. Clark standing over the stove, stirring something in a pot. She was wearing a black skirt with a white blouse!
Greg was ecstatic. His suggestion to Mrs. Clark this morning had sunk in, and she had complied. He could now see her figure much more clearly. It looked even better than he had imagined. Like Stacey, she had nice, thin, shapely legs and a beautifully curved ass. Her breasts were slightly larger than Stacey's, but they looked just as firm. Greg could feel his cock beginning to stir in his pants as he imagined Mrs. Clark standing naked in front of him.
Since her back was to the door, Mrs. Clark had not heard Greg enter. After looking her up and down several more times, Greg cleared his throat and said nonchalantly, "Hello, Mrs. C."
Turning her head, Mrs. Clark smiled and replied, "Oh, hi Greg. You're just in time. The supper will be ready in 15 minutes. Stacey is just upstairs getting changed, if you want to have a seat for a few minutes."
As Greg sat at the table, he could see that it had already been set, and, fortunately, the milk was already on the table. Taking a deep breath, Greg filled his glass up and then casually knocked it over, once again spilling its contents onto the floor at his feet. "Oh my, I'm sorry, Mrs. C, I did it again," he said with a wistful smile.
"Oh, that's alright, Greg." She began to head toward the closet again, but then suddenly remembered the events of the morning and abruptly turned around, grabbed the dishcloth from the handle of the stove, and walked over to the table. Slowly sinking to her knees, Mrs. Clark began to clean up the mess in the manner in which she had been instructed this morning.
With a smile, Greg pulled out his digital camera and quickly, without her noticing, snapped off a shot of her kneeling at his feet, cleaning up the mess. From his vantage point, he could see a hint of flesh through the opening of her shirt. He could see Mrs. Clark was uncomfortable and was having a difficult time meeting his gaze.
"You know, Mrs. C, a decent and proper woman would not have so many buttons on her shirt done up. I think it's best if you undo the top one," suggested Greg.
"Well... I... don't think that's..." she stammered.
Cutting her off before she got any further in her protestations, Greg demanded, "Now, Mrs. C. You do want to be a good role model for your ********, don't you? You want to set a good example, right?"
"Well, yes, I suppose," she murmured, feeling a fog settle over her. A combination of the lack of sleep and her confusion over the strange feelings coursing through her body created confusion and uncertainty in her.
"Well, then quit arguing about it. If you delay any longer, then Stacey will be here, and it will have to be two buttons undone," Greg replied authoritatively. He could sense her will breaking as she looked down at her shirt and then, with shaking hands and a red face, began to fumble with the top button of her blouse. Since she was distracted from looking down at her button, Greg quickly snapped another picture with his camera.
Once it was undone, Greg could see the cleft between the mounds of her breasts and the white lacy bra she was wearing much more clearly.
'There you go, Mrs. C., I think you've got it all cleaned up. Thanks," he said, quickly stashing the camera back into his front shirt pocket.
Again, with shaking legs, Mrs. Clark rose and went back to the stove to continue cooking the supper. Greg was very pleased with himself since things were going exactly as he had planned. He couldn't believe his good fortune. In his mind, he had imagined everything going wrong at every step and never being able to reach the prize at the end of the tunnel, but now it was almost within reach.
Almost as if on cue, Stacey walked into the kitchen moments later, bringing with her a magical scent of perfume and flowers. With a big smile, she said, "Hi Greg. It's good to see you again. How was your day?"
"Oh, it's been pretty good. It's nice to just relax and not worry about school and stuff. How was yours?" he asked.
"Awesome. The mall was packed, and there was a truckload of sales going on," she replied enthusiastically.
"Stacey, honey, supper will be ready in 10 minutes," Mrs. Clark interjected.
"Oh, I'm sorry, mom. I'm heading to the early show with Carol and Joan. I've got to 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 didn't set a good example for your ******** this evening. You knew the right thing to do, yet you procrastinated and stalled in doing it. Was this how you want your ******** to act, Mrs. C?" Greg demanded.
"Well... no. Of course not, Greg," she replied.
"Then, do you 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 ******** 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 pants. "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, had already removed her bra, and was in the process of pulling down her pants. 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 pants, 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 pants 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 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 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 chest getting harder and harder just by 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 ********. 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 be. 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 pubic hairs of her pussycat 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, her nipples as hard as rocks, and her pussycat 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 ********, 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," he said, gesturing to his crotch region and the obvious hardness 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 that 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 to rub the ice cream into your skin now. It's good for the skin," he said with a smile on his face.
As if she were on autopilot, 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 ********." 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 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. 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 it 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 sh*t I have here in my hand guarantees that," she said, holding up the stories and photos with a worried look spreading over her face, she asked, "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, she 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." After letting it sink in for a minute, Greg then moved in for the kill. "What do you think your ******** 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, and 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 ********. The choice is yours. What's it going to be, Anne?" Greg demanded.
"Please, nobody must know. This will destroy my ********."
"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 of 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 pants too, Anne." Again, it looked as if Mrs. Clark was going to argue, but she 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, I said, "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 shave off all of the hair on your pussycat. Are you getting this so far, Anne?" Greg asked.
Nodding her head, she said, "Yes."
"Good. Once your pussycat is shaved clean, you will dress in the shortest and tightest skirt 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 if Stacey came out of her room now and saw her mother standing naked in front of her. Thankfully, Stacey was still asleep and did not wake up until Mrs. Clark knocked several times on 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 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 her was twisting her guts inside out. Locking the door, she walked unsteadily to her bathroom, grabbed her razor and cream, and, sitting on the toilet, prepared to shave her pubic hair. It was with a start that she noticed her pussyfoot beginning to dampen. Her mere touch was enough to send electrical shocks shooting through her pussycat. This only added to the confusing emotions running amok within her. With a dizzy head, she applied the cream and began shaving her neoteric 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 pants 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.
