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A Mother's Painful duty Part 4


A Mother's Painful Duty

Part 4

By Cate.

F/F Inc

Emily followed her mother into her bedroom where they sat in the bay
window, Emily in a window seat and Mrs Armstrong in the throne-like
armchair, which she used to keep a watchful eye on the neighbourhood.
Emily was frightened, her throat dry, because of the formality with which
her mother had ordered her upstairs. "Please, Mommy," she said. "I don't
know what I've done, but I'm still very sore." "You have been talking to Dr
Mappamundi." Mrs Armstrong said. "Please, Mommy," Emily begged, "I don't
listen to everything she says" "Now you are lying as well, Emily." "Mommy,
please" "And do you think you know something you shouldn't, Emily?" Emily
felt her face blush a furious red. "When your father died, Emily, I could
have had almost any man I chose . You know that - I still could. But what
did I do? I renounced all personal pleasure in order to bring you and your
sister up properly. Is that not so, Emily?" "Yes, Mommy." "You have no
right whatever to discuss your mother behind her back, Emily, is that
clear?" "Of course, Mommy." Mrs Armstrong crossed her shapely legs with
magisterial calm and looked disapprovingly at a tiny piece of lint she
picked from her skirt.. "You are well aware there are major financial
considerations involved," she said. "I'm sorry I ever let your sister marry that idiot husband of hers who cannot even control her. I do not
think I can consent to your marrying at present- certainly not within the
terms of my will at any rate.." "Oh, Mommy, really." "You are a pleasant
child, Emily, but you are not pretty. Anyone who married you would be
doing so for your inheritance. I don't want you to fall prey to fortune
hunters." "Whatever you want, Mommy,." " Do you love me, Emily?" "Of
course, Mommy." "Have I been harsh with you?" "I deserved it, Mommy, I'm
sure I did." "Have I failed you in any way?" "No, Mommy, but..." "Come
along, Emily, don't hesitate to point out my shortcomings." "You have no
shortcomings, Mommy. It's just that always when I kissed you goodnight,
I... I wished you'd put your arms around me - you never hold me. I was
never close to you.. except when..." "You know what an orgasm is, Emily?"
"I'm not...well, yes, I suppose so," Emily said warily. "Have you ever had
one while being spanked?" "Only very little ones, Mommy," Emily said,
terrified to lie. If only she could throw herself on her knees and beg her
mother's pardon.

Emily's mother rose and, motioning Emily to stand, astonished her by
taking her in her arms. Emily was enchanted at the softness of her
mother's belly and breasts against her, the rasp of her rough tweed skirt
against her knees. The adored arms of the mother she had always
desperately sought to please enclosed her in warm security. She placed her
arms circumspectly around her mother's waist and waited for a further
indication of how much affection would be shown. Mrs Armstrong then
released her and glanced at her watch. Then she stepped down into the main
part of the room and, standing by the bed, she unzipped the top of her
skirt and stepped out of it. She was wearing plain white satin panties,
and a matching garter belt with narrow straps supported her tan stockings.
Her figure was far from perfect. She had a prominent pubis and there was a
small, muscular depression around her navel in the soft pumpkin squash of
her belly and the narrow underwear straps were etched into her hips and
meaty thighs. Only her breasts, when she slipped off her blouse, seemed
depersonalised and almost formal in her expensive matching bra. Again she
reached out her arms to Emily.

Emily revelled again in her mother's embrace, the glorious intimacy of
her body. But why had her mother taken off her clothes? And why had she,
Emily, placed her hands on the satiny cheeks of her mother's buttocks and
not been violently reprimanded for it? Her mother was giving off a strong,
feral scent, a rank musk from her armpits and lower body. Her heavy
earring grazed Emily's cheek. "Please don't hurt me, Mommy," Emily pleaded
as her mother gently removed her dress and brassiere and led her to the
bed. Mrs Armstrong released her own her breasts from the pale chalices of
her brassiere and bent to release her stockings, then stripped off her
garter-belt with a sigh of satisfaction. She removed her bracelets and
heavy earrings, dropping them on the bedside table, then lay down beside
Emily, taking her in her soft arms. Emily's skin prickled at the intimacy,
almost too much to bear after so long without a caress from her mother.
They lay side by side and, though Emily several times felt the urge to
fondle and nestle closer to her mother, the older woman insisted she remain
completely still, so that, after about twenty minutes she felt herself
swooning into the most delicious languor she had ever known. Yet the parts
of her body not within the older woman's touch were unbearably sensitive
and cried out for union. Mrs Armstrong then gave a deep sigh of
satisfaction and began to remove Emily's panties, then rolled her on her
back in the middle of the bed. Emily felt herself being mounted so that
the soft warm squash of her mother's belly pressed down on hers, and her
own tiny mound and pubic hair became fused in her mother's moist and
swollen sheath and the dark prickle of the coarse hairs of the older woman.. Mrs Armstrong then hooked her feet over Emily's ankles and held her
wrists behind her head with one hand. Then, when she had her prize fully
secured under her, she reached up with her free hand to hook the plain
cotton panties on the brass post of the bed where they hung limply above
Emily's head like a flag of surrender.

Emily felt her mother's fingers on her mouth, probing, then a nipple
forced against her lips and tongue. . Her mother guided Emily's jaw so
that her tongue was circling the nipple, wetting it and caressing it
eagerly. Emily was rewarded with a faint groan of satisfaction. Mrs
Armstrong sighed when Emily seemed to tire of her task and grunted with
pleasure when the adoration of her swollen breast continued to her
satisfaction. Emily was made transfer her attentions to the other breast and her mother lay with her thumbs resting on Emily's closed eyelids and
her long fingers probing her ears as though she were invading and taking
posession of every one of Emily's senses. Mrs Armstrong then began
touching Emily's lips with tiny, dry, pecking kisses. Emily opened her
eyes to see that the aureoles of the nipples had swollen to cover as much
of the breasts as she could see. Trapped between her mother's thighs,
Emily desired nothing but to obey. Ten minutes later, when both breasts were equally engorged and slippery, Emily said, "Can we rest for a moment,
Mommy?" "No, Emily," Mrs Armstrong said testily. "If I just wanted a
little quick pleasure don't you think I could have managed quite well
enough on my own? You must learn to be a little more considerate." Mrs
Armstrong began to rock gently to and fro, her belly pressing heavily on
Emily's She directed Emily to start kissing her on the neck and throat, All
this time Emily was held in a tight embrace in her mother's arms and she
took it as perfectly natural that her mother did not otherwise caress her.
To be held in her arms, to know she would never be thrashed again was more
than enough. Emily had not expected to gain anything more that a feeling
of loving intimacy from their encounter nor was she sure that her mother,
whatever her own predilections, would altogether approve if Emily showed
any pleasure.

Emily knew she was being used cavalierly and that her mother's
experience must have been provided by the string of carefully chosen
foreign maids, none of whom had ever seemed to last very long. There had
been a few scenes, nothing as bad as with Dr Mappamundi and most left with
new clothes and luggage and satisfied smiles on their faces and, no doubt,
a substantial severance payment. How bitter for Dr Mappamundi to become
merely the latest of these! Emily began to feel the first fluttering of
real desire as her mother, who perhaps now felt herself sufficiently
aroused, began to move her pelvis against the body beneath her, slowly and
voluptuously at first, pressing Emily down by the shoulders so that Emily
shyly grasped her around the waist. Mrs Armstrong gradually increased the
pace of her rhythm, so gradually, so utterly at her own pleasure, that it
was almost five minutes before she stiffened to a canter, at first
effortlessly riding the helpless girl between her legs, then, without
warning, beginning to bear down violently, grinding her into the depths of
the bed, so furiously that their teeth almost clashed as Emily tried to
rear to up to kiss the woman she had now been brought to adore.

But Mrs Armstrong did not even see Emily, her eyes were sunk back in her
head as she fought towards her orgasm, gasping hoarsely and unashamedly as
she thrashed up on down on the girl beneath her, as though intent on
conquering her in mortal combat. Emily remembered what Dr Mappamundi had
said and felt her own orgasm approaching. Mrs Armstrong was struggling
now, frantic for release, her gasping intakes of breath becoming quicker
and quicker. Emily almost fainted in passionate surrender and had a long,
gently fluttering orgasm as Mrs Armstrong began to gasp hoarsely, then
pulled herself up to straddle Emily fully, throwing herself forward to lean
on the pillow leaving Emily's face buried deep in her navel. "This can't
be happening," Emily thought in wonder. "I am now my mother's tart," as
her sovereign mistress lay half across her, her face buried in the pillow
to muffle her long drawn out groans of satisfied desire.


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