Part of the success of our session, however, hinged on whether Andre got off his butt and got me a sexy enough loving-but-stern 1950s-middle-class Mom costume for Cherise. Andre hadn’t shown me the real design but he told me I’d be pleased. He also assured me that my costume would most definitely be ready by Thursday evening. I assured him that it had better be, or I’d be lending Bedford one wicked fucking Lucite paddle.
As I suspected, Bedford had heard the whole exchange. As I walked toward the door I heard him growl, “Drop yer pants and get over my knees, boy!” followed by the sound of a chair being pushed back, the clink of a belt being unbuckled, and Andre’s plaintive, “I’m sorreeeee, Bedford!” I smiled and turned the window sign to closed on my way out, locking the door behind me.
Whether it was the hiding Bedford gave him for sassing the customers (for which Andre tearfully apologized into my answering machine) or just his usual desire to create gorgeously sexy attire, Andre outdid himself with the new and improved version of my happy-housewife ensemble. The soft, full, autumn-colored skirt brushed just below my knees, a wide leather belt cinching Mother’s ample waist just enough to show her well-rounded hips. A simple beige silk button-down blouse tucked into the waist, veiling but definitely not hiding the cream-colored peekaboo satin-and-lace front-hook bra that was, again, wonderfully supportive and comfortable.
Since it was a warm fall day when Cherise was scheduled to visit, Mother wasn’t wearing underwear per se, just a butterfly vibrator in a thin-strapped thong-type harness, a lacy garter belt that matched her brassiere and held the tiny control box for the vibrator, and thigh-high seamed nylons. Whether or not my errant daughter was going to discover what was beneath my skirt remained to be seen. A pristine starched white-cotton apron tied at the waist rounded out my attire, along with low brown-leather heels and a pearl necklace and earrings. By the time I took the hot rollers out of my hair and sprayed my period do into place, I had just enough time to spritz on some White Shoulders before the front door quietly opened.
I walked to the stove and lifted the lid of the hearty vegetable soup that was simmering, picked up a long-handled wooden spoon, and started to stir as I heard Cherise come into the kitchen. I looked up at her and smiled.
“Hello, dear. How was school?”
Andre had outdone himself again. Cherise wore a poodle skirt and a fluffy pink angora sweater that softened the angular planes that were slowly filling out as she grew healthier. When I nodded appreciatively, Cherise blushed and slowly turned around, the careful draping of the thick skirt flowing with her as she moved to show off how her pretty bottom was finally rounding out. Her legs were bare except for ankle socks and saddle shoes, and her fragile, usually pale face was suffused with a happy blush. The three textbooks she carried under her arm added more to her teenage look than her blonde ponytail held in place by a charming pink satin bow.
“School was fine, Mother.” Cherise smiled, a truly happy smile, even as she quickly lowered her gaze. I was surprised to realize how much I’d come to anticipate that quiet, shy look. “I got all my homework done, and I had lunch with my friends.”
But Cherise was studiously concentrating on the pattern in the linoleum. Her deliberately averted eyes told my mother’s intuition that something was up. I cleared my throat and set the spoon down on the counter.
“Cherise, are you wearing lipstick?” I asked sharply, clucking in feigned disapproval. “Young lady, someone as naturally beautiful as you does not need artificial enhancements!”
The creamy red ribbon of color would have been impossible to miss. Andre had no doubt spent hours ensuring that it would compliment the natural blush that slowly suffused Cherise’s face. She obediently looked up at me, her blue eyes sparkling.
“I wanted to look pretty today, Mother,” she said shyly.
“Cherise,” I said, shaking my head in mock exasperation. “You are always pretty. This,” I pointed sternly at her lips, “is like adding lipstick to a rose. I am sorely tempted to turn you over my knee!”
“Oh, no, Mother. I’m much too old to be spanked.”
She moved to the table and set down her books. A bright yellow folded sheet of paper fell out: REPORT CARD. Quickly she tucked it under her algebra book. I bit my lip and very deliberately wiped my hands on my apron.
“Nonsense, sweetheart. A pretty young lady like you is definitely still of an age for a good, sound dose of Mother’s hairbrush when she deserves it. I hope you’re hiding that report card because you want to surprise me with your wonderful grades, and not because of bad citizenship marks again.” I carefully unfolded the card. One B, three Cs, and a D were marked in heavy black letters in the academics columns—right across from five bright red Fs in citizenship.
“Cherise!” I said sternly. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Um, I don’t know, Mother,” she said nervously, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she peered over my shoulder. “Maybe the teacher made a mistake?”
“Have you been doing your homework?” I demanded, giving her bottom a quick, sharp swat.
“Yes.” She quickly stepped back out of the line of fire, lowered her eyes again, and stirred her foot in a nervous circle. “Well, most of the time. Sometimes I forgot.”
“I see,” I said icily, tapping the card on my fingers. “And the tardiness, talking in class, and lack of participation were also caused by forgetfulness?”
“Um, sometimes.” Cherise licked her lips nervously, calling attention to her bright red lipstick.
“Yet you could still remember to put on your makeup.”
Cherise clamped her hand over her mouth and stammered, “Just today!”
“Give me the lipstick.” I held out my hand. “It had better be almost unused.”
Andre knew me well. Cherise reached into her purse, and as she drew out the well-worn tube and twisted up the color, I could see that the contents had been carefully honed down so that only half a stick was left.
“So, now you’ve started lying as well, young lady?”
Cherise hung her head in shame. Her pert little nipples were hard under her sweater. My labia started to tingle.
“I’m sorry, Mother,” she whispered. “I won’t do it again.”
“You certainly won’t,” I snapped, tossing the report card on the table and turning the soup down to simmer. “You’ve earned a good, sound bottom-roasting, young lady.”
“Mother!” Cherise wailed. She backed up against the cupboard. I shook my head sternly at her.
“Not in here, Cherise.” I took off my apron and carefully folded it over the back of the kitchen chair. “I’m going to be taking down your panties. If your crying draws the neighbors, we can’t have them looking through the window and seeing your bare, red bottom wiggling all over my lap. We’re going to your room.”
Ignoring the increasingly loud protestations of innocence and the promises to do better in the future, I took my errant daughter’s hand and marched her resolutely down the hall, hurrying her with a few well-placed swats when she dawdled. We entered her room, and I locked the door behind us.
For a moment, Cherise just stared at what was behind the door; it had been labeled Doctor’s Laboratory the last time she’d been here. I’d changed the room that usually doubled as Mama’s bedroom for the infantilists into a teenaged girl’s dream, with delicately flowered chenille bedspread, turntable with rock-n-roll records, vintage movie posters, and a neat study desk, complete with dictionary, sharpened pencils, and a new, lined notebook. As Cherise looked around the room, I purposefully strode to the window and lowered the blinds.
“It’s too hot to close the windows, Cherise. So don’t even think to complain that the whole neighborhood is going to hear your spanking. You should have thought of that beforehand. Neighbors or not, I’m going to spank you until you’re crying at the top of your lungs. Maybe it will do you some good to realize that everyone knows your mother loves you much too much to let a good girl like you g
et away with such nonsense.”
“Mother!” Cherise seemed shocked, but she could hear the air-conditioning running and knew this room was as soundproof as the rest of the house. However, Cherise’s low self-esteem in public was a big source of her problems, and the instinctive shiver that ran up her spine told me how much she was enjoying the idea of “public” proof of her value to me.
I walked over to the nightstand and moved the thick maple hairbrush to the front edge, within easy reach. Then I sat down on the bed and pointed in front of me.
“Come here, Cherise, and lift up your skirt and your slip.”
“Motherrrrrr,” she wailed, stomping her foot. I’d learned on our first visit how much Cherise enjoyed losing the battle to avoid her spankings. “I’m too old to be spanked bare!”
“Right now, young lady,” I snapped my fingers. “And for your insolence, you will now take your skirt and slip off!”
With a loud sniffle she shuffled over to me and slowly unbuttoned and lowered her skirt. The delicate white satin slip that hugged her hips was a work of art. When she removed that as well, I needed a moment of reprieve while she carefully folded her clothing and placed it on the nightstand. Andre had outdone himself: pristine white satin tap pants, bordered with Irish lace and decorated with dainty pink butterflies, framed the softly swelling mound between Cherise’s legs and clung to the new fullness of her bottom. I slipped my shaking fingers into the waistband and slowly lowered the exquisite panties, exposing the neatly trimmed soft blonde tufts covering her vulva.
“I’m too big to be spanked bare,” she sniffed, reluctantly lifting first one leg, then the other.
“Nonsense.” I smoothed my skirt and patted my thigh. “Mother’s lap is quite big enough to hold you.” Cherise slowly lowered herself across my legs, reaching forward to grab a thick handful of the plush chenille bedspread as I pulled her into position. She jumped and twitched as I situated her so that her angular bones were cushioned comfortably over my full thighs. I wanted all of Cherise’s attention to be focused on her bottom.
“This is going to be a very serious spanking, Cherise.” She whimpered as I slowly slid my hand over the smooth, creamy curve of her bare behind. “I’m going to paddle your bottom until it’s so red and sore you won’t be able to sit down for the rest of the week.” I wanted every inch of her backside awakened and hungry to be touched. I caressed her until she was squirming.
“You will give your best effort, Cherise, in everything you do.” I brought my hand down sharply across her right cheek. She yelped, jerking, and I brought my hand down hard on the other side.
“Ow!” Cherise arched her bottom up to meet each slap. “Mother! That hurts! Ow! Ow! Owwww!!”
A dozen sound hand-spanks later, her bottom was pinkening nicely. After another dozen, she was sniffling loudly, though she didn’t try to move out of the way. I knew that would change the moment I picked up the brush.
“By not doing your best, you’re only hurting yourself, dear.” I quietly lifted the cool-handled maple brush and, with no warning, smacked it loudly over her right bottom cheek. Cherise howled, and her hand came up to cover her behind. I firmly held her wrist against her waist and spanked her again.
“We’ll have none of that, young lady.”
“It hurts!” she wailed, her legs flailing on the bed as I began to paddle her in earnest. She twisted and bucked, yelling at the top of her lungs as I covered her entire bottom with sharp, hard swats, up one side and down the other, with the steady rhythm I knew she so enjoyed.
“Of course it hurts,” I snapped, stopping just long enough to pull her tightly to me. “Mother is punishing you, dear. I want your bottom good and sore.”
Cherise’s ensuing howls told me she was really feeling each swat. She kicked her way through another half-dozen sound, hard cracks. Then I paused and set the brush down, cupping her heated bottom and sliding my fingers between her legs and over her labia. Cherise’s whole cunt was drenched. She arched into my hand, crying out as my fingertip slid forward to caress her swollen clit. Cherise spread her legs, sniffling loudly.
The smell of her arousal filled my nostrils. My own pussy clenched in response.
“Good girls are always doing their best.” I gently pinched her swollen nub, my nipples hardening as she cried out and pressed back into my hand. “They take care of themselves so they are strong and confident.” I slid my hand back and squeezed her hot, red flesh, first one side, then the other. “You will remember always to do your best—for yourself, dear, but also because you know that Mother will spank you if you don’t.” I picked up the brush again. “Do you hear me, Cherise? You… will…always…do…your…best!” I punctuated each word with another blazing wallop.
“I will, Mommy! Ow! I will! I will!” After another ten scorching smacks, Cherise’s screeches suddenly dissolved in great, heaving sobs. Her body shook as the cleansing tears finally started flowing into the soft, fluffy threads of the bedspread.
I set the brush down and gently pulled Cherise into my arms. “There, there, dear,” I murmured, holding her tenderly to my breast. She clung to me, sobbing, as I unbuttoned my blouse. I’d barely finished when Cherise pulled the fabric aside and immediately began rubbing her tear-stained face against the soft, creamy lace. Without a word, I unhooked the front latch. My breasts fell forward and Cherise nuzzled her face against my nipple, taking deep, gulping breaths as she shook and licked. Sensations shuddered through me as her cat-rough tongue dragged over first one side, then the other, outlining and laving the areolas. My pussy throbbed. I lifted a shaking hand and gently stroked her cheek.
“My bottom hurts, Mommy,” she whispered, her tongue never missing a beat.
“It’s supposed to hurt, sweetie.” She tickled her tongue over the sensitive tip of my nipple. “That’s how you learn. Suckle Mommy’s breast if it will make you feel better.”
Cherise opened her tear-filled blue eyes to meet mine. Then she smiled, and with a long low sigh, wrapped her lips around my areola and sucked the entire nipple into her mouth like a lonely, frightened child. She inhaled deeply and started to nurse.
I held her close, panting hard with pleasure. Each tug brought exquisite sensations. For a while we just sat there, the only sounds the hum of the air conditioner and Cherise’s contented suckling, and my occasional moan. When Cherise’s fingers slid down to her vulva, I moved my hand to her thigh.
“Would you like an orgasm, dear?”
When Cherise nodded, I eased her legs apart. She slid further down, spreading wider for me, wincing, sucking hard. Her full weight rested on her well-spanked bottom cheeks and my hand slid into her slick folds.
“Don’t fight the pain, sweetheart.” I stroked my fingers up and down her slit. She whimpered, her legs stiffening as she leaned more heavily on her tender behind. “The soreness will remind you to listen to me, dear one.”
Cherise wiggled uncomfortably a few more times, then looked at me and smiled tearfully. She kissed my nipple slowly. Carefully I slipped my middle finger into her quivering hole and caressed her clit with the pad of my thumb.
“You are truly beautiful, Cherise, from the inside out.” Her eyes filled again as I pressed my finger deep, curving up toward her belly. She trembled against me as I found the sensitive spot deep inside her vagina.
“Only a healthy body can feel this intensely.” With my finger still inside her, I started massaging her juice-slicked clit with a slow, rolling motion. She cried out, sucking ferociously.
“Take care of your body, sweetie, so it can enjoy the pleasure of a healthy, happy climax.” I kept up a steady rhythm, pressing deeply.
Cherise’s skin started to flush. “That’s it, beautiful. Let your wonderful, young body come like the strong, lusty animal you are.”
Cherise sucked so hard that my whole body quivered. Then with a loud cry she arched into my hand, bucking and thrashing as her body convulsed with an orgasm that shook her from her toes to her lips, still latched ti
ghtly onto me. She clutched me fiercely to her, sucking her way through a long, rolling climax.
She left me shaking with need.
Cherise slowly caught her breath, her lips falling free of my swollen breast. My nipple was a deep, bruised burgundy against her cheek as she lifted a shaking hand to my face. Her fingers traced the outline of my chin.
“Thank you, Ms. Amanda.” Her face glowed. “I feel so good all over.” She stared at me, slowly brushing her hand over my cheek while another flush burned deeper and darker over her face. “Um, Ma’am, I was just curious, but…” She took a deep breath but this time didn’t look away as she blurted out, “Do you get turned on by my, um…” Even the skin beneath her ponytail seemed to be blushing. I laughed and hugged her tightly.
“Yes, love,” I kissed her hand. “Pleasuring you is intensely arousing to me.”
“But you didn’t…?” Her eyes stayed intently on me as she stammered out her question.
“No, dear,” I smiled. “I’ll take care of it later.”
Cherise nodded and snuggled back into my arms. Her breath was cool over my wet nipple as she sighed contentedly and whispered, “In two weeks, I get my report card from my Greek and Latin tutor. Do you want to see that, too, Ma’am?”
The possibilities for those costumes were mind-boggling.
I kissed the top of her head and settled in for a final bit of cuddling. Andre was going to be very busy.
DOING THE DISHES
Rachel Kramer Bussel
THE FIRST TIME I DID IT, I DID IT FOR LOVE.
The second time I did it, I did it to seduce.
The third time, I was ordered to do it.
And I loved every minute of it.
Best of Best Women's Erotica Page 24
