Enslaved by my Daughter

Enslaved by my Daughter – part 2

“Everyone gather round”, Carrie says, “Time for me to open my gift”. I see she is holding a big butcher knife and for a few seconds my blood runs cold, and I let out a low desperate moan through my wide-open mouth, but I keep looking out into the crowd. She’ll do what she’ll do and I can’t stop anything now. She slips the knife under my dress and slices upwards slitting the entire front open, then cuts through the straps, and it falls to the floor. Then she slices off my beautiful silk bra, and then my silk thong. She slips the knife under the top of a stocking and slices down and I feel the blade gliding down my leg . . . not cutting, but I can feel the cold sharpness of it and it freezes my body into immobility. Then the other stocking. She cuts and pulls them off at my ankles. Now I’m stark naked, suspended in front of dozens of people, my mouth wide open and my legs spread. How could anyone possibly be more helpless and exposed. There is a murmur of appreciation from the guests, and I get a flash of pride in my body, but it horrifies me and I quickly suppress the thought. My body flushes from embarrassment, and I shiver, but I can feel that my nipples are hard as little rocks and my vagina is wet and “blossoming”. And somehow the idea that this situation could arouse me is more humiliating than anything else I can think of.

“Go ahead everyone, take a closer look”, Carrie says, “and feel free to inspect and handle my gift all you want to . . . I’m sure it’s what she would want you to do”. I shake my head wildly from side to side. ”No, NO . . . NO!”, I’m thinking, but I don’t think anyone even notices my protest. I feel a hand, then more hands, then . . .

I see Carrie watching me sternly to be sure I keep my head up and make eye contact with everyone. My god, how awful it is. All these people . . . and not strangers either! Carrie’s fellow graduates, most of whom I know, come by staring, fondling, pinching, probing my mouth, ass and pussy. Saying things like, “wow Ms. Walker, you look really hot that way”, “I always wondered what you looked like naked”, “God, I’d love to fuck you”. And Hilary’s mom, Jessica . . . she smirked at me and said, “you know, you got what you deserved, letting Carrie be so willful”. But I saw lust in her eyes even as she smirked at my predicament. She was almost her daughter’s height, perhaps just as tall, with an athletic body, but a bit more “trim” than Hilary. She had dark brown hair in a sort of bob or page-boy cut, and the deepest, darkest eyes. She slipped her fingers between my spread legs and up into me, and pulled them out holding them right in front of my face. To my embarrassment, they were dripping wet. She smiled and said, “well Cassandra, it looks as if you LIKE being displayed this way”. I shook my head no, but she laughed and stuck her fingers, wet with MY juices, into my mouth and wiped them on my tongue. I flushed with humiliation and tears welled in my eyes. Jessica was my best FRIEND . . . what in the world was she thinking about me now?

Some of Carrie’s teachers, both men and women, came to “inspect” me and make comments. Other friends and neighbors and some who were strangers (to ME, Carrie must know them). But worst of all were my ex with his new wife. Also my assistant at work, but thank God no one else from my firm was there. My ex and I had an acrimonious parting, and my lawyer had really squeezed him hard financially. He looked me in the eye, smiling broadly, and said, “Well hon, I see little Carrie’s got you just where you belong, spread out for everyone to see just what a slut you are”. He gave my bare ass a HARD, stinging slap and turned away to socialize. I noticed then he seemed to be especially friendly with Carrie (I didn’t even know they had stayed in touch after the divorce), Hilary and her mom, Jessica.

Lauren, my executive assistant, came over to me with a smirky smile on her face. She had always been a bit surly with me, and I never knew why. She was an outstanding paralegal and very good at her job so I put up with her insubordinate attitude. When she came up to me, she immediately reached out, grasped one of my nipples firmly and digging a long, sharp nail into it squeezed HARD. She squeezed for a long time, smiling, enjoying my shrill screams and my futile attempts to squirm away from her grasp. Through my tears I could see that most of the others were watching . . . and laughing. “Now I’ll have YOUR job at the firm”, she said, “and you can see me in YOUR office when Carrie brings you there for visits.” WHAT?”, I think. Carrie wouldn’t be so heartless . . . would she? It hit me hard then that I had no idea, NONE, what was inside my daughters head . . . or WHAT she was capable of. An involuntary shudder of fear ran through my body. As it turned out, Lauren was only tormenting me, she didn’t have my job after all. I was still her boss in all professional matters at the firm . . . but for everything else, she was my boss. And she kept an eye on me for Carrie while I was at work.

It seemed like hours of hanging there being eyed lustfully, fondled, probed and slapped. My arms ached from supporting much of my body weight, my throat ached from screaming and trying to speak through that horrible ring-gag. I wondered when it would end . . . and then what would happen next. Then I found out . . . Carrie announced, “my friend, Becca, is giving me such a neat present too . . . well it’s kind of for mom and me both”. “Some of might know she works at the tattoo place in the mall, and she does piercing, and she’s going to do some for me now.” “Oh no”, I think, “my beautiful daughter is going to disfigure herself with PIERCINGS”. Of course I was wrong. Becca came over to ME with her swabs, needles and “jewelry”. “Oh god”, I thought, “oh NO”! Carrie said, “remember what we discussed, Bec . . . do it just that way, all nice small, thin titanium rings”. Becca cradled my left breast, kissed it, and said, “wow Ms. Walker, these are really nice”, then she began. Taking my nipple in a pair of open-nosed “piercing” forceps, she clamped down hard, then pushed a large needle through, just at the base of the nipple. I screamed and squealed, but the pain wasn’t really the only thing, more the indignity of having this done to me with all of these people watching. Becca had brought a lot of those little rings with her, and she just kept putting them into me. I screamed, I cried, I struggled as best I could . . . but all to no avail. She just kept on with her work as if I were a customer in her shop. I ended up with rings through the tip of my tongue, one in the septum of my nose, one in each nipple, and four along each of my outer labia. Carrie, standing nearby and watching intently, said to me, “I like the pussy rings, don’t you mom? . . . I can use them to keep you closed up tight or OPENED up wide”. I hung there in pain and shame. I was now “ringed”.

Then I heard Carrie say, “Hil, help me out here”. I immediately felt a steady pull on my ankles, pulling my legs even FURTHER apart. I squealed, trying to beg my daughter for mercy, and struggled to keep my balance as my feet were spread until they were completely off the ground and my arms supported my entire body weight. Then the pain in my shoulders was excruciating. I began screaming again, but still the pulling continued until my legs were spread so wide I thought they were being pulled from my hips. The tendons and muscles in my crotch and inner thighs stretched until I thought I would split wide open, and they burned with pain. Oh I screamed and tried to beg Carrie to stop as best I could, but not too effectively really. It was a reflex, deep down I knew that if she had done THIS to me, she would My legs were spread almost horizontally now and I tried to squirm myself into a position that would relieve the ache, but I was so stretched out I could only quiver helplessly and gasp and sob as tears rolled down my cheeks. I’m sure my humiliation, my agony, my exposed and helpless body were arousing everyone.

But there was more. Hilary came over and handed Carrie a large shiny metal object, teardrop shaped with a clip on the end. Carrie smiled at me as she clipped it onto my new tongue ring. As she slowly lowered her hand away I felt how HEAVY the thing was, It stretched my tongue far, far out of my mouth and down, as it hung between my breasts. I quickly felt saliva dripping down between my breasts and running down across my belly. The awful exposure and humiliation . . . in front of my FRIENDS (well, and enemies too apparently) was almost unbearable Tears ran from my eyes endlessly as I gasped and sobbed. How could my beautiful, loving daughter DO this to me?

Carrie came and stood beside me, slipping an arm around my waist and pulling me against her, my left leg crossing her body above her knees. Then I saw flashes . . . MY GOD, they were all taking pictures of me! I heard comments like, “smile Carrie, I want a picture of you with your graduation gift”. I had run out of energy for screams and just gasped and sobbed as the guests snapped photos. As if the video recording wasn’t bad enough. I’d never be able to show my face to these people again, I thought. I didn’t know it yet, but there was worse was to come.

Carrie announced to the group, “Why don’t you all select a whip, strap or paddle from the table behind mom.” “O.K. now, have at her, as hard as you want”, she said. I squealed loudly and tried to squirm, but spread as wide as I was I really couldn’t move much. Then it began. First a few strokes from someone, then more, and soon the blows of whip and strap were endless on my ass, legs and breasts. I saw and FELT Hilary whipping me . . . god that girl was STRONG. Then Hilary’s mom Jessica, my friend I had thought; she worked over my tender inner thighs and vagina, bringing her thin strap up hard between my helplessly spread legs. And my assistant Lauren followed suit. Among the worst were my ex and his new wife . . . terrible pain and humiliation too. Of course all of our neighbors, Carrie’s fellow grads, EVERYONE had a go at me. I had thought I was a good friend, mother, co-worker and neighbor, but apparently I wasn’t universally perceived that way. I heard almost everyone comment something like “this is what she deserves, don’t you think?”, “thought she was better than everyone”, “I always thought she was a slut!”, “I like her better this way, don’t you?” and, “Oh yeah, Carrie was right to do this!”

I screamed and screamed, my throat burning, feeling the unrelenting pain in my body. I must have passed out several times, but Carrie revived me. Finally she called a halt and said, “now it’s MY turn”. She leaned close to my face and whispered in my ear, “this is only the beginning mom; I’m going to train you to be my absolute slave, to do any awful, disgusting thing I want you to do.” Then she gave me a tender kiss on the cheek, licking a bit at my tears, and began whipping me, ass, thighs, breasts, it was so unbelievably painful. The smile on her face and the intense look in her eyes made me realize I was lost. The pain . . . THE PAIN! And from my own daughter . . . what had I done wrong . . . what had I done to her to deserve this. She is a strong young woman and she used all of that strength in whipping me!  When I passed out the last time it was over for the evening. Of course it had all been recorded digitally, as well as the guests snapping more photos of my humiliation and abuse, but there was never time for me to think about that. Now it was sweet, merciful unconsciousness for me.

I blinked myself groggily awake, thinking it’s time to get up and fix breakfast. It takes only a second to remember yesterday and understand my present situation. I lie on a mattress on the floor of my former walk-in closet . . . I recognize it although all of my clothes are gone now, just bare walls and my mattress. I’m so sore and stiff, but I can’t stretch and limber myself up. My arms are bound tight behind me, strapped together tightly at wrists and elbows. It’s VERY uncomfortable. My legs are strapped tightly together too, at ankle, knee and mid-thigh. But the worst is what I feel between my legs. I feel absolutely stuffed in my lower abdomen. Later I find that I’ve been “wearing” large, inflatable plugs in my pussy and ass, and they’ve been pumped up to the size of grapefruits. It HURTS. My jaw aches too . . . my mouth has been filled with an inflated gag so that I must struggle to breathe. My entire body burns from the intense whippings I received yesterday night. It all rushes back to me, so real it almost seems to be happening again . . . the exposure, the pain, the humiliation. I’m too trussed up and exhausted to even cry, but tears well up and run down my face. What will happen to me next, I wonder?

Then Hilary walks into the room, and I’m so glad to see her. I sense that she is the only person who MIGHT take some pity on me . . . she’s really a sweet girl. She kneels beside me, deflating and removing that awful gag, as she says, “Hi Ms. Walker”. I gasp for breathe for a while, then when I can speak, I say to her, “oh Hilary, please, PLEASE let me go, I know you’re a sweet, wonderful girl, I know you don’t really want to do this to me, please . . .”. She says, “shhhh Ms. Bennett”, putting a hand gently but firmly over my mouth, “Ms. Bennett, you are soooo pretty . . .  I’ve had dreams about you for a long time”.

To be continued . . .