Chapter Four - Shakedown

“So, what are your plans for the show?”

Sammy was naked on the spare bed for a second time. She didn't really want to get into distressing details, but they'd again just reached the bit where she needed to expose her crotch. Looking to distract her mother, she trying to delay with what felt like a slightly less embarrassing alternative. It didn’t work.

“I don’t think I should tell you that.” replied Debbie, briskly. "Now get your legs up so I can see your pussy."

“Why not? Shouldn’t I know what I’ll be doing?” Sammy persisted, leaving her legs down.

Debbie knew what her daughter was doing, but answered her question anyway. Sammy had almost no experience of snuff, however willing she might be now. Maybe a few hints would help things go more smoothly.

“I’ve always found the element of surprise adds a real sense of excitement. Trust me, seeing your face fall as you find out what’s coming next will drive the audience wild.”

Now Sammy recognised the experienced tone in her mother's voice. This seemed like a good moment to probe into the tales she’d heard from Miss Corby.

“Mum, is it true you used to run the shows at the Charnel House? Somebody yesterday said you did.”

Her mother looked taken aback for a second, and hurriedly sat down. She sounded calm enough, though, when she replied.

“By ‘somebody’ I take it you mean Miss Corby?”

“Maybe.”

“Yes, I did actually.” she smiled at the memory. “Great days.”

“So why did you give it up, it’s not as though you’ve gone off snuff?”

Debbie looked slightly embarrassed as she mumbled, “Oh, you know, sometimes things move on.”

She usually let her mother's evasive answers slide. Just for once, Sammy pushed the issue, there was clearly something being held back.

“Mum! That’s not an answer. Why did you really leave?”

There was a brief struggle over Debbie’s face before she answered her daughter. She couldn't quite meet her girl’s eye and sounded just a touch sheepish.

“All right. I’d got two little girls and I was running out of ideas. You’ve no idea how stressful it was keeping everything original. I knew if I stayed on I’d end up using my best stuff just because I couldn’t think of anything else, and I really wanted to save something for later.”

It was several seconds before Sammy realised what her mother had just implied. When she worked it out, she blurted, “Mother! How long have you been planning this show?!”

“Since I was first pregnant.” Debbie admitted, not even trying to prevaricate.

"How could you...!" Sammy started to bawl, furious that her mother had never mentioned this before. Then she realised what this meant, and stopped herself mid-sentence. Her voice had dropped to a sorry little whisper when she started to speak again. "You gave up your job and kept quiet all this time just so me and Eve could put on a really good snuff show if we ever wanted to?"

Not caring that she was naked, Sammy leapt on her mother and gave her a big hug. "I'm sorry mum. I didn't realise. That's so sweet of you."

"It's okay darling." Debbie replied, taken aback by her daughter's reaction, but happily wrapping her arms round the girl. "I hoped you wouldn't find out precisely because I didn't want you to feel guilty, and now you are. I might have wished for this day, but I didn't want to pressure you into it."

Sammy didn't feel like resisting any longer. If her mum had sacrificed so much, the least she could do was be helpful now. She grabbed her mother's hand, like she had Miss Corby's, and pushed it into the dark bush between her legs.

"Have a good rummage then." she half-whispered. "Make sure you know your way all round my pussy."

"If I don't slide off." Debbie said, probing her daughter's labia. "You're pretty wet down there."

Reddening, Sammy made to scramble off. In her confusion, she hadn't even noticed her body's growing excitement.

To her horror, her mother pushed her back down and said, "Don't be silly, stay where you are. A bit of relief for you will make us both feel better."

Had her mother really just said that? But she could feel fingers skilfully manipulating her venus mound. She wanted to protest, but her body was already bucking against the constant rhythm. It seemed like no time before the electric release of an orgasm crashed through her.

"Now, you're not going to be able to run here as easily as from Miss Corby’s house." she heard her mother's voice saying as her head stopped spinning.

"Why did you do that?" Sammy mumbled in confusion, unable to look up.

"I always used to wank the performers off beforehand." her mother explained, in a very matter of fact tone. " I found it heightened the intimacy of the performance. Wrecking a cunt that you've felt shiver with pleasure adds a frisson that an audience always appreciates."

Sammy protested, "You planned that?"

"Not the bit where you decided to help, but yes."

Looking at her mother's cheerful face, she was a loss for words.

Debbie carried on, apparently unconcerned. "I only used to get one chance in the dressing room beforehand. But with you I should have plenty of opportunities to build up a bond with your pussy."

This pushed Sammy into speech. "You're going to want to do that again?"

"Definitely. We shouldn't miss out on any opportunity to give our performance an edge people won't forget."

She'd been going to argue with her mother, but, reminded what they were doing this for, she lost her desire to fight, especially knowing now how much experience her mother had. It was just her natural shyness getting in the way, again. If she wanted to put on an unforgettable show, she'd have to do anything needed, however embarrassing.

"Okay." she said, resigning herself. "Whenever you want then."

"I knew, underneath that timid exterior, you were a sensible girl." said Debbie, relaxed now that Sammy seemed to be starting to understand her role.

Feeling happier at this, pleasing her mother did feel good, Sammy felt comfortable enough to probe a little further, even if still not sure she wanted more answers.

"I know you won't tell me about the show itself, but is there anything else I should expect beforehand, particularly if it's like that?"

Sammy's awkwardness had always left her mother reluctant to seriously try and explain more intimate things to her. There were some things, though, that she really needed her daughter to understand now, and this question seemed like the best moment she'd find.

"Yes." she started. This bald statement made Sammy's brow wrinkle with anxiety, she'd probably hoped for no, but Debbie pressed on. "There's a secret to a really good snuff show. You see, it's not just about the pain, although that's important, but any idiot can get a girl screaming."

"What is it then?" Sammy asked. Uneasy, but also a bit excited.

"It's about mental pain as well." Debbie regarded her daughter critically, trying to gauge her reaction. At the moment Sammy just looked confused, so she pressed on, "It's about wrecking the girl mentally as well. You have to demean and degrade them."

Now Sammy understood, she looked a bit upset as she asked, "Does that mean you'll be calling me names?"

"What do you think Sammy? Quite a lot, I should think, among other things. That's where you should be glad you've got your mother as MC, I must know more about embarrassing you than anybody." she thought a second, then carried on, "Basically, humiliation is the key. Especially when you get the girl to do it to themselves."

Somewhere in the back of her mind everything Sammy had learned recently must have told her that would be happening, but hearing her mother state it so plainly brought it into sharp relief. The worst bit was, it made sense. Just standing there screaming as her body was cut up wouldn't be that entertaining. She wanted to impress, if this was what it took to put on a good snuff show, that's what she needed to do.

"And you'll be doing all that with me?",

"Of course. I aim to have you crying before there's a mark on you."

"You will be marking me though?" Sammy blushed at the silliness of this question, but her mother appeared not to notice and answered it quite seriously.

"Don't worry darling, there'll be plenty of agony for you. I'll be breaking up that lovely young body bit by screaming bit." Debbie glanced at her daughter. "And you won't be doing that."

It took a second to realise what her mother meant. Sammy might not like humiliation, but the thought of extreme pain was somehow different. Now, unbidden, her mother's words had sent her hand creeping into her snatch.

"Sorry mum." Sammy closed her legs and hung her head. "I didn't even realise I was doing it."

"And after I told you that was going to be my job from now on." her mother chastised her gently. "You'd better open your legs again and let me get at that over-eager pussy."

Lying on the spare bed, alone with her mother, spreading her thighs, seemed to Sammy like the first real move in becoming the star of her own snuff show. It was horribly awkward, but her body again responded quickly to an expert touch.

"Just imagine what I'll be doing." Debbie started saying, her fingers feeling her daughter near climax. "Making you scream as I rip open your tender young flesh."

Sammy gasped and panted in a wave of pleasure.

"Of course." Debbie continued, as her daughter subsided. "You'll probably be weeping in mortification as well. That greedy snatch of yours being leered at by everybody."

Sammy scrunched herself up, involuntarily trying to hide her greedy snatch away. She might be horribly nervous at the thought of doing it, but she was really getting an insight into why her mother's shows had been so popular.

"Will I be getting any fun at the party?" she asked anxiously. "Or will you be leading me in naked on a dog chain or something?"

"You'll have plenty of time to say hello to everyone." her mother reassured her. "Your father's not expected until the party's well under way."

"So the show won't start until he arrives?"

"I didn't say that." her mother stopped reassuring her. "It'll just be good for everyone to see you as a sweet young girl at a party, add a little something to when the show starts."

"How will I know when we've started?"

"You'll know when we've started, I have a tone of voice that always used to get the crowds going."

"What does that sound like then?" Sammy asked innocently.

"Don't worry." her mother replied, with an evil little grin. "You'll know it when you hear it."
.
****

"Oh shit!" Sammy's moan was half shame, half pleasure, as her mother's fingers brought her to yet another climax.

Her mother got up quickly. Casually wiping her hand on a handkerchief, she spoke briskly to Sammy, still panting on the bed, "Now don't just lie there. I've put out your party clothes, you need to get dressed before we're late."

"What underwear should I wear?" Sammy shouted through to her mother. There was none laid out with the party clothes and she wanted to get every bit of her dress right. After all, everyone was going to see it at some point this evening.

"You're not wearing any." was the dismaying response. "Just the blouse, skirt and shoes."

"Not even a bra?" she shouted back hopefully.

"No!" there was a finality in her mother's voice. Sammy surrendered to the inevitable and clambered into the flimsy pleated skirt and plain, white, cotton blouse. More or less decently covered, but feeling almost naked. Only the shoes, shiny-smart and with a low heel, didn’t disconcert her. She pulled her soft brown hair back into a single, neat ponytail, ensuring an unobstructed view of her face.

"I'm jiggling horribly." Sammy complained as she came downstairs, holding her boobs.

"Of course you are darling." was her mother's blunt response. "And, just think, one unfortunate gust of wind as we walk to the club and you could be flashing anyone passing in the street."

It was true, the unusual feeling of cool air wafting over her unprotected pussy was definitely making her feel vulnerable.

"I thought we weren't starting until after we've got to the party?"

"We're not, unless there's an accident. Apart from a bit of extra jiggle, no one will know. It's a question of getting you in the right frame of mind. Leaving you susceptible to a bit of a breeze, or a bursting button, should help a lot."

This made Sammy examine what her mother had chosen to wear herself. Debbie’s costume was almost a parody of her daughter’s. A snug, but not too tight, blouse with a high frilly collar, a heavy, rich, red velvet skirt shielding her legs. The only suggestion of anything improper was a flash of fishnet around her ankles and short, stiletto-heeled boots. Her hair too aped Sammy’s, the ponytail twisted into a tight bun and pinned up.

There was quite a risk of an 'accident' to Sammy’s party clothes. The light, pleated skirt seemed to rise up in even the slightest draft. The blouse material might be thick enough for decency, but it had felt rather tight when she put it on. Now, as each movement stirred her abundant bosoms, it felt like it was straining at the seams, ready to split on every next step.

Debbie knew her daughter. By the time they'd made the short walk to the club, Sammy was looking far from relaxed. Already just a little bit broken, as her mother had promised her she would be.

This story is a fantasy, set in another place, with only the slightest passing nod to our reality as it’s glimpsed on a distant horizon. If this isn’t immediately apparent to you, I strongly suggest you seek urgent psychiatric care.