“We got this guy who’s really into horror flicks,” Bedford had said one fall afternoon. He was lacing me into my new black corset as Andre put the finishing touches on my Hallowe’en vampire costume. “Cleavage” didn’t begin to describe the size of the valley developing between my boobs as Bedford cinched me into place. Andre had somehow managed to build in a truly comfortable support bra, without losing the sleek lines of the corset. “This dude would think he’d died and gone to heaven if you had your way with him in this costume, Ms Amanda, especially if you bit his neck a couple of times. Hell, if you let him nurse on these mamas, he’d pay whatever you wanted. And honey,” Bedford winked at me as he tucked the lacing ends under the intricately tied knots, “he can afford to pay whatever you want.”
In short order, I’d found out that Timmy could indeed afford my services. Frequently. From there, it was a short step to a half-dozen men who wanted to be spanked and diapered and fed a cup of warm milk, then held on Mama’s large, comforting lap to nurse contentedly on her huge ol’ boobs while they went to sleep. That costume was easy, too. I set the scene to be one of “baby” waking up at night, so the seductive peignoirs that, along with leatherwear, were the mainstay of PDF, needed only a complementary pair of feathered satin mules to have “baby’s” hard, horny dick drooling into the neatly pinned cloth cotton diapers Andre had custom-made for them. At the end of the scene, I’d sit in the oversized rocker Bedford had built and unhook my specially made “nursing bra,” one cup at a time, and let “baby” suckle my huge, dark red nipples until the heavenly stimulation – and the ben wa balls in my pussy – made me explode in orgasm. The sucking, along with my usual expert wrist action, usually had baby creaming into his diaper as soon as he’d sucked me through my climax. My submissive and infantilist clients were an excellent match for me, as my breasts were about the most sensitive part of my body. After a good session of nipple stimulation and roasting naked backsides, all it took was a few quick flicks to my clit or a well-placed toy to make my cunt gush.
Although my clients paid well enough that I only needed to have a few regulars, I was interested in branching out again. For the first time, I also had a couple of women clients. Both they and a couple of new “boys” that I’d taken on were hot to do a Teenager Gone Bad scene.
One of the girls, Cherise, had had serious problems with bulimia. I’d had a long talk with her doctor before I accepted her as a client. Cherise, however, was not into infantilism. Spanking, yes. But at twenty-six, she saw herself more as a naughty high-schooler who needed someone to take her firmly in hand and teach her to be good and do right – and to help her gain a healthy dose of the self-esteem she was fighting so hard to achieve. After her last visit, I’d told her that next week “her mother” wanted to discuss her report card with her – most specifically, her citizenship grades. She was to be sure to wear her best school clothes and saddle shoes. Cherise had shivered, her face positively glowing as she kissed my hand and whispered, “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be here right after school.” Which meant 6:30 p.m. sharp, after she’d finished work and eaten exactly as the doctor’s regimen directed.
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. I knew Cherise’s costume was done. Although Andre hadn’t shown it to me, he told me I’d be pleased. He also assured me that my costume would most definitely not be lacking by Thursday evening when I picked it up. I assured him that it had better not be, or I’d be lending Bedford one wicked fucking Lucite paddle.
Of course, Bedford had heard the whole exchange, despite how engrossed he’d appeared to have been in the website updates. 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 “closed” sign to the window 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 in 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 peek-a-boo satin and lace front-hook bra that was, again, wonderfully supportive and comfortable. Since it was a warm fall day, 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. I’d made plans for several contingencies. A pristine starched white cotton apron that 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 hairdo into place, I had just enough time to spritz on some White Shoulders perfume before the front door quietly opened.
I walked to the stove and lifted the lid on the pot of thick hearty vegetable soup that was cooking, picked up the 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 soft 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, one of her truly happy smiles, 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 a feigned disapproval. “Young lady, someone as naturally beautiful as you does not need artificial enhancements!”
The creamy, dark pink ribbon of color would have been impossible to miss. Andre had no doubt spent hours ensuring it would complement 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.” She reached back quickly to protect her bottom with her free hand. I wasn’t sure how much of that was an act. Cherise loved the catharsis of a long, hard, tear-filled spanking; she wasn’t satisfied until her backside was blazing sore and she was sobbing like a baby. “I’m much too old to be spanked.”
She moved to the table and set down her books. A bright yellow folded piece 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 you need it. I ho
pe 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. A “B,” three “Cs,” and a “D” were marked in heavy black letters in the academic 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 stepped quickly 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, highlighting the bright color of her 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, 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, reaching back to cover her backside, this time in earnest. 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.”
“Mother!!!”
Ignoring the increasingly loud protests 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. I’d taken the room that usually doubled as Mama’s bedroom for the infantilists and changed it into a teenaged girl’s dream, complete with delicately flowered chenille bedspread, turntable with rock and 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 get away with such nonsense.”
“Mother!” Cherise seemed shocked, but I knew she could hear the air conditioning running, so she’d know this room was as soundproofed as the rest of the house. But Cherise’s low self-esteem in public was a big source of her problems. 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 slip.”
“Motherrrrrrr,” she wailed, stomping her foot and backing against the closed door. 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 stand beside me and slowly unbuttoned and lowered her skirt. The delicate white satin slip that hugged her hips was a work of art. But when she removed that as well, I needed a moment of reprieve while she carefully folded her clothing onto 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 stiffened 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 caressed her until she was squirming. I wanted every inch of her backside awakened and hungry to be touched.
“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. “Ow, ow! It hurts!!!”
“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 to always 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! Mommy!!!!” After another ten scorching smacks, Cherise’s screeches suddenly dissolved in great, heaving sobs. “I w-will, Mommy! I w-will!!!” 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 catch. 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 the first 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.” I shivered as 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.
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