* Author’s note: This story has been written with a specific purpose, both in plot and grammar. Trigger warning – it contains non-consensual scenes of rape and violence. *
As time passed, the tension never ceased. Even over a few weeks, there were moments of angry tension. Moments of sexual tension. But not too much in the way of aggression from me. I was conflicted. Being honest, a big part of me really wanted to just let go and allow myself to use my mom. I wanted to use her in every way I already had and a whole lot more. Every moment of control I’d had excited me more than anything ever had. In those times I’d abused her and given her what she clearly wanted, I’d been wetter than ever. I had to admit that. Not to her though. We hadn’t really spoken about it. I just continued to be my bitchy self, probably with more attitude than before. I knew I owned her. It was only a matter of what I’d let myself do and how far I was willing to go. My stupid submissive mother would accept anything. And probably love it.
But I was still fighting myself. I felt the disgust and shame towards myself at my growing desires. That only made me angry at myself, but I only took that out on mom. Any moment of cruelty, even non-sexual, was really starting to turn me on. I knew it was sick. Messed up. Depraved. But that in itself was beginning to excite me too. I’d never felt so torn. I was like a coiled spring, ready to burst at any time. Burst, I did.
I’d started looking to date again, in an attempt to get my mind away from what it truly wanted. It did mean a change in my tinder profile from a ‘fuck me’ type to ‘date me’. Still, it didn’t take me too long to get a date out of it. I took my time getting ready and made sure I was looking my best. I opted for a white strap-less dress with a frilled hem and a sparkled pattern over my cleavage. I spent an age perfecting my hair and make up. I still arrived at the restaurant early. I was too early really, but it gave me some extra time out of the house away from mom. That’s what I needed as much as anything. Out of sight, out of mind.
I took a seat at the bar and made sure I got through a drink comfortably before he arrived. I didn’t want it to look as though I’d been there as long as I had. However, I found myself almost through my second when the clock ticked past the agreed time. I wasn’t impressed. I preferred punctuality to somebody keen on being ‘fashionably late’. I’d always hated having my time wasted. I ordered another drink and checked my messages to be sure. I had the right time. My frustration started to build and it seemed like the bar staff could tell too. I got one on the house. I was planning to give him a piece of my mind on arrival. He was going to get the kind of attitude I usually gave..my mother. Damn, I was thinking about her again. It would be so easy if she was the problem. I could just scream and threaten violence and get my way.
My rage only built as time went on and I’d heard nothing. I lost count of how many drinks I’d had. But I was pretty hammered. On my own, stood up. I paid up and left, in the worst mood I’d felt in a long while. The short walk home did nothing to stave my anger. I was fuming by the time I walked through the front door. Almost tripping over on mom’s stupid fucking Eiffel Tower statue hardly helped. Everything was starting to piss me off. Yet somehow not nearly as much as what I then found on the couch.
There was mom, asleep, clothes dishevelled and one hand blatantly by her crotch. I could even tell from the sight that she had cum drying on her fingers. The scent of her sex, which had become horribly familiar, filled my lungs as I neared. Her other hand was clutching her phone to her chest. It was pretty obvious what she’d been doing when she fell asleep. I realised there was still light from her phone and took the opportunity to pull it from her grasp. It must have been kept unlocked by her thumb. Picking it up must have flicked away whatever she’d had up, but I wasn’t going to miss the opportunity of seeing what mom had been fingering herself to. I glanced down at her as the grumble of her snoring continued. I swiped up as if to clear the apps. There it was. The last thing open, a folder simply named ‘k’. And a photo of me. I seethed.
Had she been masturbating to pictures of me?! It was just a normal one, from the time we went to Vegas. I clicked on it and started scrolling. Another of me, ironically sleeping, with the cat. A selfie I’d posted on Instagram. Mom didn’t even have Instagram. Another one I could have sworn I’d deleted. One from Christmas, of me opening presents. Another, a close up of my ass from behind. A creep shot. I felt sick. I was right all along. Even pictures from when I was younger. What a sick fuck. I couldn’t stop scrolling. What I found next, truly confirmed it. A shot of me sleeping nude in my bed. My heart was beating so quickly seeing it for real. I was drunk and angry, but felt myself getting wet. I knew she was obsessed with me. I’d always suspected the photos too. But I couldn’t believe it was making me horny to see it too. It was overwhelming. I swiped again.
I froze. It was a nude I’d taken a long time ago. It was mine. I couldn’t even think of how she’d got it. There I was, tits out and smiling playfully, wearing mom’s old nurse uniform. I’d seen enough. I glared down at her as she peacefully slept. I exploded.
“You sick fucking perverted witch!!” I screamed her awake and started throwing my fists at her. I pounded her chest where her tits used to be. It didn’t take her long to start crying. But that didn’t stop me. I punched her pussy and she coiled up in pain. I pulled her hair and called her out again. “How could you do that to your own daughter?! How long have you had these pictures of me?! Fucked yourself to them?!”
She tried to respond between her groans but I didn’t really care what she had to say about it. It was too late. I had to punish her. To really hurt her. To most people, it wouldn’t be the rational response. But my brain only worked that way. “You want to fuck your fat cunt over me?! How about this, whore?!”
I went and grabbed the statue I’d almost tripped on and jabbed her with it. Mom started whining and I couldn’t help smirking. I was starting to enjoy punishing her. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I had to. She deserved it. I shouted at her to take off her clothes. If she wanted to be such a disgusting slut getting off to me, she’d have to show it. She meekly did as she was told whilst muttering something I didn’t hear.
“I can’t hear you, whore!” I slapped her face and pushed her back down on the couch. I yanked her legs apart and kicked her cunt. Over and over, watching it turn redder. Mom winced and moaned every time, but it typically glistened with her growing wetness. I picked up her tower statue and grinned at the look of horror in her eyes.
“No, no..please no” she started, but it only encouraged me.
“Didn’t exactly give me the choice when you took those photos, did you? Bitch.”
I rubbed it against her abused pussy before probing her hole with the tip. I recognised the way it turned me on thinking of being so cruel. It was so fucked up. But I was beginning to realise and accept that it was who I was. Not even bothering with lube, I did it. I pushed it inside her. The noise that came out of her barely sounded human. I loved the resistance I felt. I loved pushing against it. I knew it was agony for her. The hardness of it and the unnatural shape. I got off on it. “What’s wrong, pervert? It’s only the Eiffel Tower. You love the Eiffel Tower. You should be grateful. Thank me.”
Between whimpers, she managed it. She actually thanked me for raping her stupid cunt with that stupid model. “Thank you, k..”
Mom’s tears didn’t stop as I forced the statue through her. She started pleading again and again but I just ignored her. I was transfixed. My mouth opened wide when I noticed the first trickle of blood. I didn’t know why I hadn’t even thought of that happening. Of course she would bleed. What I truly didn’t expect though, was enjoying that sight. I didn’t know what had come over me, but I was revelling in her suffering. It was like I wasn’t even there. My actions just came naturally and I went with it. Accepted it. I gathered a drop of her blood on my finger and slowly took it to her face.
“Look, cunt. You deserve this.” I told her, before wiping it slowly on her cheek. “Open,” was my next order. I put my finger in her mouth and felt the warmth of her tongue suck the bloodstain. The way she did so was almost keen. It was like she wanted it. I’d done messed up things to her, but it was getting way beyond the point of no return. But I loved it. She continued to beg ‘please’ over and over and I’d had enough of her interrupting my cruel peace.
“Please what?!” I snarled.
“Please, may I cum?” mom muttered.
“Whatever, cunt.” I didn’t admit how much it turned me on that she was actually getting off on it. Within seconds, she was quivering in orgasm.
I kept going with the statue, getting more and more turned on by the sight of her blood and how cruel I was being. I had justified to myself that she had brought it all on herself. That she deserved it. So nothing was going to stop me. I wanted to feel it myself. I pulled it out from mom’s pussy and reviewed what I’d done. It was covered in a mix of her juices and blood. What I felt, was pride. I was responsible and I liked it. I wanted more. I threw it at her as she stared at me, fearfully awaiting my next demand.
“Suck it clean, bitch.” I wanted to force her to clean up the mess I’d made. Just like she had done my whole life, but never in such a sick way. She knew better than to resist and slowly licked at it with her eyes on me. She looked so disgusting. That was her place. I slapped her pussy and smiled at her whimpering. It must have been so sore. I pushed my fingers inside her. Three at first, then four. She felt incredibly wet. Then, I closed my thumb in and pushed. It stretched to welcome me. My entire hand was almost inside her. Mom had gone from lightly sucking to seemingly clamping down on the statue to stay quiet. I knew she wanted to scream.
“You love this, don’t you, bitch?! You’re so disgustingly fucked up.” I spoke with a hateful tone and looked right at her. She looked back with an ashamed look. It was guilt. Mom felt guilty that she loved the abuse of her own daughter so much. I’d moved past that. I was drunk, horny and angry and I didn’t care anymore that it was incest. I pushed my hand deeper until even my wrist was partly forced in. She was so tight around my hand, I knew it was hurting her. I began thrusting my arm as well as I could. The sheer heat from her cunt was getting me hotter and it was only then I realised I was still totally dressed up. Force fucking mom’s pussy had made a mess of my dress. She could clean that up later. I forced my fist in further with each push. It was so fucked up but I craved it.
Mom started moaning more intensely and I felt her getting wetter, making it easier for my fist. She was enjoying it! Admittedly, it was a turn on that she liked me abusing her perhaps even more than I did. It felt like every thrust made the whole fucked up scenario somehow feel a little more normal. Like it was supposed to happen. Whatever inhibitions I had left, I knew were slipping away as mom tensed towards orgasm. I spat on her pussy and watched it drip down and gather with the mess I was plunging inside her. A mess was the only way to describe her. That simple act seemed to have an effect on mom and I watched her eyes roll back. I felt her cum around my fist and I simply muttered “you fucking sick whore.”
The reality was that I was probably even more sick, but I was never going to admit that to her. She didn’t stop cumming for what felt like an age. Eventually, she stopped writhing around and fought to get her breath back. I pulled out slowly and my eyes widened at the state of my arm. I stared, almost awe inspired by what I’d done. Dripping with her cum with streaks of red all over, I found myself naturally drawn in. I glanced to see mom watching me marvel at my own cruelty. My expression turned darker and I hit her in the face. Hard. The ridiculous moan of pain she released only made me want to punish her more. I shoved my hand in her mouth and shouted at her to suck. The tenderness of her tongue cleaning felt so dirty, yet soothingly satisfying at the same time. I was burning with desire. I took a moment to yank my dress away and then push mom back down on the couch.
“Eat my fucking cunt!!” it was my desperate need for my own relief that fuelled my passionate tone.
I climbed on top of her as I spoke and practically shoved my pussy down in her face. I knew I’d instantly soak her. I was wetter than I’d ever been in my life. I leant forward and slapped her pussy a couple of times, as if to encourage her like an animal. That’s how I was starting to see her. It was the way I’d treated her for a while. I could hear her whining and feel the vibration against me. I was pretty sure I’d already had a mini orgasm just ruining her but I was so ready for more. I craved more. I started rubbing her clit back and forth as mom’s mouth worked wonders. I couldn’t help myself.
“Fuck yes, eat your daughter’s cunt you fucked up pervert!”
I was encouraging myself towards orgasm more than anything. It certainly seemed to work on her too. The way she sucked and used her tongue was expert level. I pressed myself down on her. I wanted to suffocate her until she’d satisfied me.
“You don’t need air. You need me. You can breathe once you’ve made me cum, bitch.”
I leant back and pinched my nipples, still grinding against her with all my weight. I felt it building inside me and smirked. I needed it so badly. To cum. I was about to, all inhibitions gone about how messed up it was. About the fact it had all started because of mom’s disgusting stalking of me. Preying on me like the filthy animal she had clearly always been. Well it was my turn to prey on her. I let out my moans as the wave rose. In that moment, I could tell it was going to be huge. My eyes closed. The intensity was all I could feel. So close. Then it hit. It felt earth shatteringly good. I zoned out as the orgasm took over. It felt like an eternity, somehow increasing in power just when I thought that would be it. It was too strong. Too much. I had never cum like it. I was sent to another world, where I was kept. I’d blacked out.
I woke with a groan, my head pounding. I had something resting on me. I opened an eye groggily to see a stuffed monkey. One of mom’s many. Then, it hit me. I had a flashback to the night before. How angry I was before I even got through the door. What I’d found on her phone. The rage I reacted with and the way it turned to cruelty, and the way that became an extreme turn on. Like nothing I’d ever felt. There was no doubt, it had pushed me beyond any doubts. I’d crossed the line from being hesitant about how fucked up it was and it had become what I craved most.
I opened both eyes and only then realised I wasn’t in my bed. I was in mom’s. I could remember what happened last night whilst I was awake. But I had no idea what happened after I blacked out. I turned over and the scent hit me. Piss. Figuring it wasn’t me, I sat up slightly and saw exactly what the source was. There was mom, lying on the floor by the bed in the fetal position. She was bruised and covered in the stains of her blood. My eyes widened when I noticed one of my high heels seemingly part way in her pussy. Apparently, the night had only got wilder after I’d cum. I wasn’t even sure she was alive. I forced myself out of bed and kicked her.
“Please mistress,” she said quietly, seemingly in her sleep. Wow. That was it. That’s what we we’d become that night. What a night.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/p911fq/mistress_daughter_part_2_trigger_warnings_rape