Her Mother's Daughter

I wrapped her up in the blanket and did precisely that. When I got her home, I put her straight to bed with a hot water bottle. Oh I was the caring Mother which was not an act: I loved her and really did care for her: seeing her lying in bed like that, poisoned by the very drug that I was administering really tore at me. What right did I have to change the direction of my baby's life so drastically? I hardened my heart. I was not destroying her life, I was stopping her from doing it herself. The downward spiral of hatred and rebellion would surely by the end of both of us.

And that was it: I had the distinct impression that Milly was playing a tune and both Sammi and I were dancing to it. However I did not care as I knew that this was something that I had always wanted.

Sammi remained in bed, neither asleep nor awake, I helped her to the toilet when she needed it and dried her off afterwards. She ate sparingly, and only the foods that the notes said she should have: in other words nothing that produces a lot of waste. She seemed contented to doze so I left her too it.

Early that afternoon, Maud came around to see me: Maud with her short hair and mannish clothes; neither of which appealed to me. She looked in on Sammi, who smiled at her.

"Cat, I never realised just how beautiful she is: I could become envious, you know." She gasped before leading me into my own bedroom. She took the lead, as usual, and we cuddled for a bit: except for my intimacy with Anna, this was the nearest that I had come to sex for sometime. Maud was a hefty lady, twenty or so years older than I am, which I think that I have already mentioned.

Maud is a fantastic kisser, which is one of the reasons why I was happy to spend time with her. I started to undress, but she stopped me. "That's not the reason that I called round, old girl." She said.

"I was mystified. "Oh?"

"You've always claimed not to be into BDSM, yet here you are; about to take on the responsibility of a sex-slave." She stated with authority.

Her words cut into me, and quite frankly I was shocked. "Sex slave? And what do you mean, 'BDSM'? I don't even know what the letters stand for," I protested.

Maud gave me a knowing smile, climbed off my bed and walked over to my dressing table where she picked up one of my lipsticks and wrote 'B', 'D', 'S' and an 'M' on my mirror in large maroon letters. She picked up a peach lipstick and used it to draw a ring around the 'B' and 'D'.

"Right, pay attention," she said in her best 'Consultant's' voice. I sat up and she continued. "B and D stand for Bondage and Discipline: one of the pair takes charge and fulfils the needs of the other by restricting their movements and/or controls what they do – the discipline comes in the form of physical punishment if they do not reach the standards that you require."

I breathed out loudly: this was a surprise to me. "But I would never hurt Sammi, its not what I'm into." I was adamant.

Maud pulled a pained face. "Really, what if she needs it? What if she asks you to? You haven't thought it through, have you?"

I didn't answer, so she carried on and used a bright red lipstick to draw a circle around the 'D' and the 'S'. "D and S, of cause stand for dominance and submission. You will have to dominate her and keep on doing it: this in turn will force her to submit and keep her submissive. Its the basis of the normal Mistress-Slave relationship. The mistress gets off on dominating the slave while the slave gets off on being dominated by he mistress. Its a dynamic process and you are going to have to keep on top of her if you hope to be her Dom."

She must have seen the surprise on my face change to shock for she smiled knowingly. "The Dom-Sub relationship is very rewarding to both parties if done properly: a good Dom can control several Subs at the same time and can get them to compete for their Mistress's attention and control."

"I – I, never thought of it like that." I must have sounded uncertain because Maud's smile took on a predatory quality.

Lastly she picked up a very dark lipstick and circled the 'S' and 'M'. "These are sadism and masochism: I'm really not into them: but you might have to be. What if Sammi wants you to actually hurt her? What if she needs it? Will you be able to supply what is essential to her?"

I must have looked panic-stricken because her predatory expression became appraising. "Oh, Maud, what am I to do?"

She sat by me and placed a comforting arm around my shoulders. "Just do your best. Experiment: find out what you actually need and take it from there. Remember at all times that you own her. Get her a dog collar and insist that she always wears it. Get the lead as well and use it to emphasise that she is less than you are by leading her around the house naked and on all-fours. Things like that: if you start off very hard, you can slacken off later and that's much easier than the other way around.

"Go to a good sex-shop and buy the usual corrective aids, I'll advise you, if you like." her voice purred at me reassuringly so I snuggled up to her and she fondled my breasts to comfort me.

"Oh my darling Cat. If it doesn't work out, I'll happily buy her from you. If that doesn't appeal; I could take you on as a matched pair of subs and we could all have a lot of fun from that." Her voice was very casual, but there was a slight tremor that told me that she was getting aroused by the possibility.

She had given me a lot to think about and she seemed determined to unsettle me. Oh her voice was very reasonable as she added. "Remember Cat, keeping a human being as a pet is a big responsibility and a lot of work. As your closest friend, I'm just offering you a possible way out."

When she left a short time later, I was in an emotional turmoil. I'd bitten off more than I could chew, I was going to make a mess of things and knew it! I was in this state of shock for about twenty minutes until it suddenly dawned upon me that Maud, bless her, had got completely the wrong idea.

I laughed quietly – just because she was into BDMS or whatever it was, she naturally assumed that I was too. I chuckled to myself and went to look in on Sammi and was rewarded with a brilliant smile. I checked. No she didn't need anything, so I left her to doze. Half way down the stairs, reality threw a bucket of ice-cold water over me – What if Sammi turned out to be into that sort of thing?

The door bell rang and broke my reverie. When I answered it, I came face to face with Sammi's 'boyfriend' – the redoubtable Alan. I smiled at him and asked what he wanted.

He asked to see Sammi, now there was a surprise! I explained that she was recovering slowly, but that the doctor had advised 'no visitors'. He looked surprised and stood there as if he expected me to change my mind.

"But, she's my girlfriend. You've got to let me see her!" He said hauling himself up to his full 5'10" and stepping forward menacingly. He was now so close that I could tell what he'd had for diner by the spots on his hoody.

I stood my ground and smiled at him and he glared back threateningly, Never the less he stopped his advance, clearly confused that I hadn't run away in terror. Next I leaned casually against the door frame and folded my arms.

"Sam's told me all about you!" He said emphasising the final word.

I looked him in the eye and tried not to recoil at his breath. "Oh really? That's nice, dear, however she hard ever mentions you." Well that was true because she rarely spoke to me.

"I love her and she loves me!" He snapped defiantly, then tried to be nasty by adding. "She's told me exactly what you are."

"What? She's told you that I'm her Mother? I would have thought that you could have worked that out for your self young, err, man." He was very amateur when it came to being nasty whereas I had been insulted by an expert on a daily basis. He just wasn't good at it.

His little fists balled in frustration showing that he wanted to apply the normal young-male approach to an obstruction. But did he dare hit his girlfriend's mother? I was gambling that he would be unsure of Sammi's response if he did. His aggression changed to confusion and he took a couple of steps backwards and tried a different approach.

"We do love each other and plan to get married." He almost pleaded.

I let my expression change to one of sympathy as I nodded an acknowledgement. Then I frowned and enquired. "But can you support and provide for her?"

He looked surprised, clearly his planning hadn't gone that far as yet. "I – I'm going to look for a job." He added uncertainly.

"Will you even be able to satisfy her?" I added, rather nastily.

He looked at me in surprise, girlfriend's mothers do not know anything about sex because the younger generation had invented it. "Well I've had no complaints from your daughter!" He replied proudly.

Oh you silly little boy – checkmate! I thought triumphantly. Then using my best sympathetic tone said. "Never mind, Alan. Samantha isn't very experienced, is she?"

His mouth opened and closed as he did a very good goldfish expression. What could he say? To agree would make him look silly and to disagree would insult Sammi. After a few incoherent sounds, he shut up and tried to think – something else that he hadn't had much practice of doing.

I carried on my attack: I'd already noticed his greasy, dandruff-flecked hair and collar. "Alan, isn't hair cream out of fashion, these days?"

He seemed to freeze and stare at me open mouthed. "I don't use..." He managed to utter before losing the power of speech. His receding chin begun quiver more than a little as he took another step backwards.

Finally I complemented him on his extensive collection of zits, spots and blackheads and was not surprised when he almost burst into tears before running away.

After he had gone, the smell of stale tobacco smoke and male antiperspirant lingered in the hall for several hours. Ah, the fragrant essence of adolescent masculinity! I failed to see the attraction when I was that age and frankly, still don't.. Neither do I understand the common male-held belief that antiperspirant armpit spray is the same as bathing and removes all need for any form of personal hygiene.

Chuckling to myself, I closed the door and then made a pot of tea.

5. Childhood's End – passing the point of no return.

Today was Friday, Samantha's birthday and for some reason, I was up early. I looked into Samantha's room and saw her sleeping: a blonde angel with her hair seeming to flow over her pillow. I remember smiling as I stood watching my sleeping daughter for several minutes. Today she was eighteen and a child no longer. Am I really doing the right thing for both of us? I remembered Milly's words – but what if she was wrong?

Almost in a daze I walked down stairs and made my breakfast then ate it without really tasting the toast or marmalade. I felt numb as I finished my coffee. Today is her eighteenth birthday and the first day of the rest of her life. I sobbed and suddenly remembered her seventeenth birthday when she had called me a "Fucking mean cow" and thrown my present at me.

No! I corrected myself. Today is the first day of the rest of our lives.

Next, I bustled around tidying up downstairs, making it ready for her to get up later today or tomorrow when she felt better. I looked for the blue and brown 'medicine' bottles: the blue one had contained the ipecac-derivative that had been responsible for my baby's sudden "tummy-bug" while the brown one held the tranquillizer that had made her feel dull and sleepless for the last couple of days. I was instructed to give her one last 5ml dose with her breakfast and to let her recover afterwards; I was told that after a good night's sleep, she would be feeling better and should be able to get-up tomorrow.

At lunchtime I took her her birthday cards and she opened them sleepily, smiling happily as she read the messages inside each one, including mine which said "Here's to a new beginning." I took them downstairs afterwards and stood then up in the lounge for her to see tomorrow.

The rest of the day just seemed to drift by: I was still empty and still full of doubt, but there was no alternative now and I just had to let things play out. There was, after all, still the green bottle to go. After a light evening meal, I settled down to watch the television, not that it was much more than a background noise to my thoughts. Suddenly, at about seven, the door bell rang and I jumped up to answer it: half expecting it to be Maud.

It wasn't for the door swung open to reveal three scantily dressed young ladies(?). I recognised the red-head as 'Linny', my daughter's 'best friend'. I looked at them enquiringly, they would have been quite attractive if about a pound of make-up could have been scraped off each of them.

"Yes, ladies?" I enquired. 'Ladies' of course being in respect to there gender, not their status in life: well I couldn't very well greet them with. "Yes, Slags?" could I? Although, admittedly, it would have been infinitely more accurate.

I was informed, in some dialect of broken English, that they had come to take Sammi out to celebrate her birthday.

"I'm sorry, but she's still not well enough." I replied as pleasantly as I could.

They glared at me and Linny accused me of holding her prisoner; or at least, I think she did as I wasn't particularly familiar with the version of 'Idiot' that she was speaking.

"I'm afraid that I only speak English." I said with a disarming smile.

Strangely enough my remark caused a great deal of confusion. Then after a whining argument, a tall thin-faced blonde, who I did not know, glared at me and exclaimed. "Dyke whore, much!"

I smiled again. "Pleased to meet you, how much do you charge?" If you can't convince them, confuse them.

The blonde looked shocked and the third girl, the one with a coffee and cream complexion and black curly hair, stared at me and enquired. "Waaaa?"

Linnie actually turned towards the blonde and chuckled which caused the argument to resume. The little red-head however suddenly turned and stared at me. "How is Sam, Mrs Graham?" She asked in real English.

"Getting better, but still very weak and sleepy, thank you, Lynette."

After they had all turned on their very high heels and tottered away unsteadily, I closed the door and stopped suppressing my laughter. Me a dyke? Well judging how they were draped over each other, it was a fair bet that I wasn't the only one.

I returned to the lounge and poured myself a celebratory glass of sherry, then as I sat down, I realised just how much the visit by those 'charming' young females had cheered me up and strengthened my resolve. I sighed out loud and wondered if Sammi had sounded incoherently brain-damaged when she had been out with them. Very likely. I concluded.

All the same, I had to admit that there was an attractive air of naïvety about them; if I was more predatory, I think that I would have enjoyed turning them – the redhead, especially. There was an intensity about Linny that was intriguing: I would really love bringing her out.

It's strange, but as I sat there and relaxed, the TV still on in the background, I daydreamed. I "saw" Lynette there in front of me, which was odd because I had never really been attracted to eighteen year old girls – not even when I was one! Still, perhaps it was the sherry, or the sight of the scantily clad nubile "maidens", or the warm room, or even a combination of all of then: but I was definitely turned on by them. No! Not them – By Linnie.

I imagined the young redhead there in front of me: I made the trowelled on make-up vanish and the intensity of her beautiful green eyes seemed to look deep into my soul. I envisaged her naked, no great feat considering how skimpily she was dressed for mid-October. She was dumpier than my Sammi – shorter too with better developed hips and breasts. By now you will realise that I loved breasts, providing that they are in proportion to the rest of the woman. Hell, I love 'the rest of the woman' also; I wouldn't be a lesbian if I didn't; but there was something about Lynette – she had hidden depths where the other two seemed to have hidden shallows. Did I fancy my daughter's best friend?

"Hell, yes!" I said out loud, which both surprised me and snapped me out of my reverie.

It didn't end there, oh no, not even the shock of my realisation was enough to shatter my my illicit longings. I tried to watch the television, but found myself slipping back into my fantasy. I closed my eyes and there she was standing naked in front of me, red hair just touching her areolae and her nipples poking towards me in a most inviting manner.

Without realising it, I realised that my right hand had hiked up my skirt and worked its way into my panties. I was wet – very wet! I shrugged and regained control of it, but why waste the opportunity? I began to play with my own pussy, which obviously was the only one available, I explored the familiar territory and commanded my fingers to begin their familiar dance. I rubbed myself with a circular motion and heard a familiar low moan... I really did need this.

As I rubbed myself faster and faster, my fantasy changed. Samantha materialised behind Linnie, they hugged and then kissed. I could see them as real as life its self, my slim blonde daughter and her plump best friend. The kiss went on and on, I heard them moan sensuously, their heads moved in a well-practised dance as the kiss turned to mutual tongue-fucking.

Suddenly my back arched as I gave a loud scream of ecstasy: I had cum! Oh how I had. The girls vanished as I carried on twitching and spasming for several seconds. My fingers stopped and I relaxed. The room stank of my arousal and I was so wet that I had soaked the seat of my favourite armchair. I could have squirted or pissed myself: I didn't know, or care. In fact the only thing that I did care about was that wonderful vision of the girls making out... If only!

6. New Beginnings – New Samantha, new Caitlyn.

Saturday dawned wet, not that I was up at dawn however. I opened my bedroom curtains and stared out at the rain pattering down into the front garden and street. Why did it always seem to be raining, or foggy, in Birmingham?

After showering, I selected some of my sexier clothes: skinny jeans and a revealing singlet-type top. Don't ask me why: it just seemed like a good idea at the time.

I looked in on Samantha and found that she was getting dressed. "Don't you ever knock?" She demanded irritably.

Yes, my daughter seemed to be back to her normal catty self. "How do you feel, dear?" I asked gently, careful to avoid any escalation. "I've been concerned about you, that was a nasty bug that you had."

Her attitude softened and she turned towards me and smiled a little guiltily. "Yes, well," there was a pause as she stood there in her bra and panties and just looked at me for several seconds. "I feel much better, mom, thanks for looking after me."

I smiled at her, I swear that she was looking at my cleavage. "It's okay darling, take your time I'll just go and make breakfast."

As I busied myself in the kitchen I chuckled to myself: yes, she had been transfixed by my tits: or had she? I shook my head. No! I was just imagining it. After all she's straight and hates me, well doesn't she? With those thoughts in mind, I added the contents of the green bottle to her fruit juice; just like I had been instructed.

I sniffed the empty bottle then touched my tongue to the neck and just as Milly had said, it was odourless and tasteless. I shrugged an slipped the bottle into a safe place for later disposal. The green bottle would open her mind to the possibility of me becoming more than her mother, or so Milly had assured me. It was, as far as I could make out, a revolutionary mind-altering drug from Forbes Lifechem, where she worked.