The Mask of Submission Ch. 06

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To say that my family life changed after our return from Hilton Head would be an understatement.

It was not so much a change as it was a whole new life, maybe a whole new world, only faintly tied to anything that had come before it.

In the days and nights that followed Simon and I’s submission to our own daughter, we lingered in a fog of passion and thrill. We lost ourselves in each hour and in each moment, knowing only the desire to please our domineering daughter and sate our own unbridled lusts. There was no need for anything else, there would have been no room for it. There was only the three of us, our wants and our needs, and everything else just faded far away into a silent oblivion.

I can still remember the drive home when the long weekend was over. Simon and I drove home together, exhausted and weak from all we had been through, too tired and perhaps too shocked by the light of day to speak. I watched through the window as the world rolled by, taking in the damage that the storm had caused, the downed trees and the flooded lane’s, the smell of rain and of upturned earth still thick in the air…and I remember thinking that it was fitting. That it was how the world should look in the face of all that had occurred.

Fresh and expectant, ready to be remade into something new.

As I said, Simon and I did not speak on that drive, not in all the long hours back to Maryland. I was too exhausted to worry over it. Too worn out by everything that had happened to begin the process of dealing with the situation. There had never been anything in my life to compare it to, there had never been an experience which I could draw upon to understand the aftermath of having submitted to my own daughter, to having watched my husband do the same. I knew that we would have to talk about it, and I knew that surely there would be deep implications for our lives as well as our marriage…perhaps there was a part of me that simply did not wish to tackle such things. I was content to rest, to shut my eyes and revel in the sweet aches that filled my body, make believe that everything could change without provoking a single consequence.

I suppose Simon must have felt the same, for he seemed in no hurry to talk about what we had just experienced. When at last we arrived home we were so exhausted that we simply collapsed upon the bed and slept, too worn out even to eat. We slept for the rest of the day and all through the night, lost in the strangest and most wicked of dreams.

I awoke alone in the bed, with the sunlight streaming in through the windows, and I could hear the sounds of Simon moving downstairs. I braced myself then, and knew that there was no use in avoiding it. We were home and the idyll was ended, no choice but to confront the new reality and all that came with it.

I did not really know what to expect when I found Simon in the kitchen. Nothing would really have surprised me or been out of place in that particular situation. Anger, guilt, shame..I was prepared to deal with them, and even knew that there was a part of me that was experiencing the same gamut of emotions. After all, I had been taken in every hole by my oldest daughter, and no matter how wonderful it had felt there was going to be some lingering questions in the sober light of morning.

But Simon seemed calm when I entered the kitchen. He had thrown on a bathrobe and slippers exactly as I had, and there were eggs flying on the stove. When he saw me come in Simon handed me a mug of coffee and then without a word he sat down at the table, and motioned for me to join him.

“How are you feeling sweetheart?” Simon asked me, and his tone was soft and tender, so disarming that I found myself giggling.

“Like I’ve been through the wringer honey.” I laughed. ” How about you?”

“The same. I don’t think I’ve ever been this sore in my whole life…Do you…was sex that vigorous when we were young? Or is it just some new fad that the kids are trying out?”

I laughed again and replied, ” I don’t know honey, I don’t think that was anybody’s idea of an average weekend.”

Simon chuckled right along with me, and as we sipped our coffee I knew that everything was going to be alright. I don’t think şişli escort I had ever loved my husband more than I did at that moment, as he disarmed all of my worst fears with a simple and good natured joke.

We talked around the elephant in the room for a few moments, as we drank our coffee and ate the eggs which Simon had made. Simon told me he was taking two more days off to recover from his vacation and I told him that sounded like a healthy idea and that I would do the same. I reminded him to unpack his suitcase so I could start a load of laundry, he noted that he had forgotten to mow the lawn before we left. Just a normal morning for a normal couple, but of course we could not linger in that illusion forever.

When I had cleared the dishes from the table Simon cleared his throat and he asked me at last what I thought would happen now.

“I really don’t know Simon…I honestly haven’t thought that far ahead. Everything happened so fast, got so crazy and so intense that I’m not sure my mind has even fully processed all of it yet.”

“I know what you mean. This weekend wasn’t exactly what I had anticipated.”

“Do you regret it?”

“That’s the thing Gwen, I just don’t know. I mean, never in a million years did I think we’d be here talking about this. In the moment I was terrified, but also everything was just so hot that I couldn’t help myself…now that we’ve cooled off a bit I’m not sure what I’m left with. I’m not even sure if how I feel about it matters at this point.”

“What do you mean Simon? How can you say that?”

My husband shrugged. “Gwen, what would happen if Corrie walked through that door right now? If our daughter walked in and told you to get down on the floor and that she was going to fuck you. What would you do?”

I felt flushed with embarrassment but even so I didn’t want to lie. “I think I’d do it Honey. I don’t think that I’d be able to resist.”

“And if I told you not to? If I forbid you to go through with anything else like that?”

Once again I was troubled by the implication of the question, but I could not bear to lie to him.

“I don’t know Simon…I think it would break my heart, but I still don’t think I could resist her. I’m sorry if you can’t understand, and obviously it’s not something I’m proud of…”

But Simon held up his hand to stop me from going any further, and told me that he understood all too well.

“That’s the whole problem Gwen. I don’t think that I could resist her either. There are so many things that we did this weekend, that I did, which I would never have considered before. Even if I could overlook the fact that she’s my daughter…she made me do things which I never thought I would, which I would never have thought were part of character. I mean, putting my tongue in her asshole? Licking my own cum out of her pussy…that’s not me. But when she told me to do it…”

” You couldn’t resist.” I nodded. ” I know what you mean. You are worried that we’ve lost all control.”

“And where does that lead?” Simon wondered. “I mean, I didn’t get the sense from the way Corrie spoke to us that she had any intention of making it a one time thing. It frightens me not knowing where all of this will leave us at the end.”

I reached out across the table and put my hand over his, offered him my most reassuring smile.

“I don’t know either honey. But I do know that you’ll always be my husband. I’ll always love you no matter what. Nothing that happens with Corrie is ever going to change that.”

“Even if you see me doing things that aren’t manly? Have to watch me be emasculated by our own daughter? That won’t change how you see me?”

I knew right then exactly what it was Simon was going through, and even if I didn’t have the words to say, I knew exactly how to help him through. Getting up from my chair I let my bathrobe fall away from my shoulders so that I stood naked before him.

“Honey, you’ll always be a man to me. You’ll always be strong and powerful…when it comes to me Simon’ you’ll always be in charge…”

I reached down into the fold of SImon’s robe and wrapped my fingers around his cock as it thickened at the sight of me.

“It’s not as big as Corri’s strap on.” Simon joked.

“But mecidiyeköy escort I know it’s a good deal tastier.” I whispered. With that I sank to my knees and pulling open his robe I buried my face in his lap.

” I’m still your Master then?” Simon groaned as He placed his hands on the top of my head, forcing his cock a little deeper into my throat. I could only offer a wet choke as I let his prick fuck my mouth, but even so I was pretty sure that it was the answer that he needed. And as absurd as it was to think it, with my husband’s cock pumping away at the back of my throat I knew that Simon and I were going to be just fine.

So days passed and slowly our lives seemed to return to a semblance of normalcy. Simon and I discussed a million things a million times and we laughed and argued and made love. We stocked the refrigerator, watched TV, and returned to our routines. I went back into the law firm and received many compliments on how relaxed I looked after my short vacation. Simon returned to the campaign trail with renewed vigor. Everything seemed so normal, exactly as it should be.

I knew of course, we both did, that our lives were anything but.

There was a strange tension underlying every hour, an expectation. We knew that something was going to happen, but we had no idea just how it would manifest itself, and we had no clue as to when.

I did not hear from Corrie after our weekend in South Carolina. She did not come by the house and I resisted the very strong urge to call her.

It was so strange, my feelings at that point. On the one hand I was concerned for my daughter. If I had just been through one of the most complicated and jarring events of my life then so had she, and the idea that she might be struggling to cope with it tugged at every instinct I had as a mother. On the other hand I had developed rather different feelings towards Corrie as well, and as embarrassing as it was, I found myself too bashful to reach out and talk to her, like a teenage girl pining away for her boyfriend to call…

As more time passed my maternal side increasingly gave way to my feelings as a nervous lover. What if Corrie was not calling because she did not want me? What if I hadn’t pleased her enough, or I’d done something wrong and my daughter had decided I wasn’t worth the effort? I started to check my phone several times every hour, desperate to hear something from Corrie, confused and lost when I did not. I toyed with the idea of sending her a submissive message or even naked photographs to show her how much I wanted her, but at the same time reminded myself that I was a woman in my forties and too old for such girlish things.

With no sign or word from my daughter/mistress I lost myself ever more to the fantasies which filled my mind. Fantasies made more tantalizing and powerful because I had experienced the basis for them first hand at last. I no longer had to imagine Corrie’s body, I knew it completely. I no longer had to manufacture the taste of her sex, it lingered still upon my tongue, distinct and sweet and unforgettable. Even simple words became delicious temptations, as I had no more than to think the words “my daughter’s cunt” than I would become overwhelmed by the need to touch myself. I had never used that word in my life, hated it as so many women do, but it was different somehow when I applied that vulgarity to my daughter and I even found myself slipping to the bathroom at work to play with myself when it came into my head.

There was one fantasy that was more powerful and persistent than any other. It did not matter where I was or what was going on around me, as soon as it popped into my head I would find myself undone and my pussy soaked with need. Even as I bounced upon my husband’s cock in my head and in my heart I was always somewhere else and always the same place.

I imagined myself in the tiny kitchen of the little rented house where I had grown up. The image that had started it all, the memory that had set all the rest into place. Sometimes I imagined myself thrown over the cluttered table, my skirt riding up around my hips to expose my wide firm ass. A rag shoved into my mouth and moaning as I clenched it between my teeth, istanbul escort just to keep from screaming out how much I wanted it, how much I needed it. And then Corrie would be behind me, her soft hands kneading the flesh of my bottom, sliding down the crack of my ass to gently graze my sopping pussy.

She’d say, “What do you want Mamma?”

And every time I spit the rag from between my lips and answer with the same words I had heard once long ago, “Dominate me baby!”

And then Corrie would.

Sometimes I imagined her crouched between my parted thighs, her tongue squirming deep inside my sex, her sweet face basking in the heat of my deepest excitement. Other times I would imagine her taking up a crop or flail and bringing it down to sting my offered flesh again and again, my body wracked with sobs and suspended between longing pain and exquisite pleasure. Always it would end with Corrie’s fingers pressed deep into my flesh, as she plowed roughly into me with a long thick strapon, laughing as I begged her for more, as I bucked and thrashed beneath her onslaught.

Then there were the times when I imagined that I was standing there in that kitchen once again, and that it was May, my own mother, who was once again laid out across it. I would imagine her looking deep into my eyes, the shock, the fear and guilt colliding with the undeniable pleasure as my daughter gave her everything she wanted, everything she needed.

Even after everything I had been through, it still embarrassed me to admit to myself how powerful the image of my mother being taken was for me. I was shocked by the cruelties I imagined her subjected to, the depth of the depravity I submerged her within. It was not enough to see her spanked or to see her flogged. It was not enough to see her fucked. In my mind I longed for my mother to be demeaned, to be degraded. I saw her collared and leashed, drooling uncontrollably as a ball gag stretched her jaws wide. I filled that little kitchen with whips and chains, leather and steel. I filled that little room and that little memory with a thousand faceless and naked men and women.

I pierced her nipples with large golden rings, or with brass bells that jingled with each movement of her voluptuous breasts, I blindfolded her and made her suck a hundred cocks fresh from a hundred fuckings of her pussy and her ass. I choked her on the flowing juices of pussies, I drowned her in spent white cum…

And then I would blink and be cumming myself, driven wild by Simon’s thrusting prick or by my own fingers going wild in my pussy and ass.

The more time which passed without word from Corrie the more intense and wild my fantasies became. It was only a week, and yet even now as I look back with full knowledge of everything, I swear that it felt like a year or more.

When Corrie did at last reach out to me it was not as I had anticipated. She did not appear at the door one evening with a cruel grin and a dominant tone. She didn’t call or text. In the end Corrie reached out through email, and in a manner I could never have imagined.

Of all the places to be, I was at work when I saw her name in my inbox, the subject line simply reading, “Dear Mom,”.

As you can imagine I opened the email right away, with no regard for where I was or what the message might contain.

The body of the email was rather short, in fact it was a single name. Susana Collins, a name which struck me as familiar but which all the same I could not quite place. I did not dwell upon that long though, for no sooner had I opened the attached image file than all other thoughts were driven from my mind.

I stared at the screen for a long time, unable to fully process the image that had sprung up before my eyes. On some level I understood it at once. It was so simple, as clear as night and day. An old polaroid fromsomedistant time somehow picked off a dusty shelf, uploaded to the modern age and sent whipping to confront my eyes once more…

Once more…those words that whipped at me as I felt my body tremble and my mind begin again to fracture.

Because I was staring into an image I had seen before, in flesh and blood, as I had looked into my mother’s eyes as she lay spread across the kitchen table,the shock in those wide eyes as she saw me and understood what I was seeing, a white woman’s body above her, laughing, as my mother was made to submit to the rubber of the strap on cock which filled her…

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