daughter who takes her mother out on the town regularly, to cafes and movies and shopping sprees. mother who thinks it’s silly and fun to call these outings their little mother daughter dates.
daughter who tosses and turns in bed every night, who can’t stop thinking about how she’s basically dating her mom. who can’t help but wish she were really dating her mom.
mother who notices her daughter getting quieter when they’re together, not distant, but almost contemplative. as if she’s started to really hang on every one of her mothers words. mother who notices the stolen looks, the flickering of eyes toward lips.
mother who notices all the light touches. the closeness. mother who notices as her daughter stops being so careful, tentative. mother who watches as every touch becomes more and more obvious, more and unapologetic. mother who knows she should be better, mother who can’t help but let it happen.
daughter who introduces her mother to clubbing for the first time. mother who gets too drunk, daughter who wants to dance, who holds her mother close on the dance floor.
mother and daughter who move together, along with the music, along with each other. bodies against each other, learning about the warmths they’ve never been brave enough to discover.
mother who can’t take it anymore. daughter who watches her mother’s eyes flutter closed, who watches her mother lean in. mother who can’t remember the last time someone had taken her so desperately.
mother and daughter who fight for breath on the dance floor, who kiss and hold and touch eachother like their lives depend on it.
mother and daughter who are done pretending like they’re not in love, who won’t pretend this isn’t a date, who are done pretending that they don’t want this <3
big sis groping my ass and thighs throughout the day, sending me pics of her tits or porn she likes. finally she catches up to me when she knows we’re alone, lifts up my skirt and immediately is able to push her dick into me. “you’re such a perfect little slut for me, aren’t you?” my whimpers are enough of an answer for her
Curiosity. You knew you weren't supposed to touch them.
Master kept them in the black box on the top shelf of his closet, the one you'd seen him open only a few times. You weren't even supposed to know they existed. But you'd watched, curious, filing the information away for a moment exactly like this one. When you'd be bored, alone, wondering what it would feel like to have something that potent coursing through you.
The vial was small. Pale pink liquid, almost innocuous. You only took a sip.
A few minutes later, you understand your mistake.
It starts as warmth. A flush across your chest that spreads downward, pooling between your legs with an intensity that makes you gasp. Your skin prickles. Every touch against your body feels amplified, electric. You're wet almost immediately. Completely soaked, really, in a way that feels obscene. Your clit throbs like a second heartbeat.
You press your thighs together. It only makes it worse.
Fine, you think. You'll just take care of it.
Your hand slides between your legs with practiced ease. You find yourself swollen, aching, so sensitive that the first touch makes you whimper. This will be fast. This will be easy. You're already right there, already climbing toward...
Nothing.
You rub faster. Harder. You try circling, pressing, everything that usually works. The pleasure builds and builds, cresting toward something that never arrives. You're gasping, hips rocking against your own hand, so close you could scream, but the orgasm stays just out of reach. Like a door that won't open. Like a sneeze that won't come.
You try for ten minutes. Twenty. An hour.
By the time you give up, you're trembling, drenched in sweat, nearly crying with frustration. Your whole body feels like an exposed nerve. The sheets beneath you are wet. Every movement sends sparks through you that go nowhere, build toward nothing, they just layer on top of each other until you feel like you might vibrate out of your skin,
You have to tell him.
-----
You find Master in his study. He looks up when you enter, takes in your flushed face, your unsteady breathing, the way you're pressing your thighs together.
His expression shifts from curiosity to understanding to something cold.
"What did you do?"
Your confession comes out in a tumble. The box. The vial. Just a sip. You didn't know. You're sorry. You're so sorry. Help. Please.
"Come here."
Your legs carry you to him before your brain catches up. He pulls you across his lap in one smooth motion, flipping up the hem of your dress. You're not wearing anything underneath, you'd taken your panties off an hour ago, soaked through and useless.
The first spank lands hard enough to jolt you forward.
And you moan.
The pain blooms into something else entirely. Heat and pleasure tangled together, radiating outward from where his hand struck. It's almost... god, it's almost enough. You can feel yourself clenching, desperate, so close...
But not quite. Never quite.
"Stupid slut." His voice is stern, you realize how serious this is. Another spank, and your whole body shudders. "You went through my things. Took something that wasn't yours. And now look at you."
Spank. You whimper.
"Do you even know what that was?"
You shake your head, the tears are starting to form. You're dripping down your thighs now, so horny it's almost painful.
"It's designed to make girls like you into dumb little nymphomaniacs. Desperate. Aching. Unable to think about anything but being filled." Another spank, and you sob with how good it feels, and how useless the goodness is. "But it doesn't let you cum. That's the point. It keeps you right at the edge, wanting and wanting and wanting. Until it's all you'll ever want."
"Can you fix it?"
"There's nothing I can do. You just have to wait it out. A few hours, maybe more." His hand rubs over the hot skin of your ass, almost soothing, and you push back into it helplessly. "You did this to yourself."
Spank. You're crying now, trembling, every nerve ending screaming.
"I can't even use you like this," he says, and there's genuine regret in his voice. "If I fucked you while it's in your system, it would lock the changes in place. Permanently." His fingers trail down, brushing against your slick folds. "You'd be like this forever. Brain gone, dripping out your cunt. Just a mindless, needy thing."
The sound you make isn't quite human.
"You wouldn't want that, would you?"
You should say no. You know you should say no.
But his fingers are still touching you, light as a feather, and your hips are chasing the contact without your permission, and the thought of being like this forever... never having to think about anything but the ache between your legs and the man who controls whether it ever gets satisfied...
"Answer me."
"No," you whisper. "No, I wouldn't want that."
He hums, unconvinced.
"Liar." Another spank, hard enough to leave a mark. "But that's okay." He pulls you upright, settling you on his lap so you can feel exactly how much your desperation affects him. "There's plenty of time for me to get the truth out of you."
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