Author: Lizard69
Title: Nancy
Summary: Getting exactly what we want isn't the worst that can happen,
but it come close.
Keywords: Femdom Fm
This is a work of fiction.  If you have trouble with the boundary

between fact and fantasy, don't read it.  If the story codes following the
title freak you out, don't read it.  If I mis-coded drop me a note through
the author email link at ASSTR.  Do not under any circumstances forward
this file to anyone that hasn't specifically requested it.  In case you
haven't figured it out yet this is intended as *adult* entertainment.  Do
not allow it to be accessed by minors.  If you have inadvertently
downloaded it in a jurisdiction where such material isn't legal please
delete it immediately.  Do not re-post in whole or in part without this
notice.  Do not repost on any "for profit" site without my specific written
permission.  Copyright 2013 by Lizard69.

   Aunt Nancy (Femdom, Fm) By Lizard69



   I don't mind telling you I was nervous as hell when mom dropped me at my
aunt Nancy's house.  When she had asked me in the car if I was sure I
wanted to do this I'd answered yes almost out of reflex.  I was so fired up
to prove moms older sister couldn't intimidate me that I wouldn't have
backed down facing a loaded shotgun.  I wasn't until I was half way up her
front walk that I realized I had never been to her house alone, and maybe I
should have picked something easier to prove.

   As she answered the door and invited me inside, I began to piece my own
impressions together with what mom had recently told me.  A lot of things I
hadn't realized were bothering me started to make sense.  While Nancy
smiled easily it was never very deep.  More of a slightly, "above it all",
smirk, as if life in general was an off color joke she found not quite
funny enough for open laughter.  She was blond like mom and about the same
weight even though several inches taller.  Her figure was trim, a swimmers
build.  At thirty-eight she was two years older than mom but their faces
were enough alike they could almost be mistaken for twins.  Today she was
dressed in a tailored pantsuit that would have any of my friends nudging me
and telling me to check it out.

   I wasn't a coffee drinker and the last thing I needed right then was
caffeine, but when she offered me a cup of the chocolate/hazelnut blend she
was fond of I accepted, more for something to do with my hands than
anything else.  We settled in across from each other at her kitchen table
and she proceeded to politely tear my guts out.

   "Fran told me about Erin planting one of her little surprise packages. I
swear there are times I'd beat that girls ass bloody if I didn't think
she'd get off on it."

   She caught my expression and...  chiggled?, guckled?, whatever you call
that sound half way between a giggle and a chuckle.

   "Get a grip kid.  Fran told me that she'd given you the condensed
version of her dark side, and why she felt it was necessary.  You're now
supposed to be immunized against my corrupting influence.  We both know
that's bull but have arrived at the same opinion by wildly different
routes. I can't quite decide if I should tear into her for making extra
work for me, or thank her for making a crack I can slip a crowbar into.  In
an ideal world I wouldn't be having this conversation with you.  On the
other hand your mom is a classic example of what happens when real people
collide with a world that is often far from ideal.

   "I'm sure what Fran told you is factually accurate to the best of her
recollection.  I'm equally certain that it's far from complete and
thoroughly biased.  It can't be anything else.  She didn't have time to do
more than hit a few of what she called the low points.  The simple fact
that she tags them with that term confirms her bias."

   "Oh?  So now you're going to give me the true story?"

   "No.  And if we're going to accomplish anything useful you will not use
that tone with me again, ever."

   "I'm sorry, I'll try to do better."

   "Johnny, everyone makes mistakes, it's what you do with them that
separates the men from the boys.  Which is probably as good a place to
start as any.  I'm sure she's given you some tale of woe about her older
sister thoroughly dominating her.  She's told you how I took complete
control of her, ran her life, and almost as an afterthought, subjected her
to humiliating and degrading sexual abuse.  Is that pretty much it, in a
nutshell?"

   "Uh, yeah.  You're saying it isn't true?"

   "Oh, it's true enough.  Let me get you a napkin for that coffee.  I
strongly suggest you don't try to play poker until you develop better
control of your reactions.

   "As I was saying, there's quite a bit she didn't, maybe couldn't tell
you.  I was fourteen when mom died.  It was rough for all of us.  In fact
it pretty much shattered what had been an average middle class family.  Dad
coped with it by throwing himself into his work.  Fran couldn't cope at all
and damn near went catatonic.  I was just an average teenage girl who had
already lost her mother and was looking at losing the rest of her family as
well.  My only choice was to fold or fight back and I decided I wasn't
going to fold up without a fight.

   "I was already the alpha child but let me tell you going from that to
stepping into the role of parent is one hell of a jump.  Our state may
allow girls that young to get married with parental consent, but fourteen
year olds who are ready to become a wife and mother are pretty rare.  None
of them are ready to become an instant mother to an emotionally dependent
twelve year old.  I could have just called social services and we would
have been put in foster care.  I'd have been able to handle that but it
would have finished wrecking Fran.  So all I could do was suck it up and be
mom for both of us.  Then Fran hit puberty.

   "Beyond basic biology kids our age weren't given much information.  The
counselors who were supposed to help us didn't have much more and weren't
comfortable talking about the issues.  I had a lower than average sex drive
to start with and with everything else going on didn't have the time or
energy to pursue it.  Fran had me as a buffer between her and the cold
cruel world.  She had more time to obsess over the changes she was going
through.  While her sex drive probably wasn't *that* much higher than
whatever range is now considered normal, it was much higher than what
anyone back then would admit to.  All I had was public information, and
comparison to myself.  By those standards my little sister had a runaway
libido.

   "I now know this is nothing to be ashamed of.  While most people fall
somewhere near the norm, there have always been a few at either extreme. 
It was Fran's misfortune that instead of having an older female relative
who could coach her in dealing with the problem, she had me.  I love my
little sister and always have.  I did my ignorant best for her.  While it
may seem pretty rough by today's standards and what I know now, when viewed
in context I'm not ashamed of my efforts.

   "In those days a girl could have an active private life.  I found out
later some of my friends had a *very* active private life.  But the girl
who played around had to have the skill and luck to maintain appearances
and the nerve to spit in the eye of anyone who even suggested she might be
one of *those* girls.  Fran didn't have any of that.  For the first year
after mom died she barely had the backbone to pull herself out of bed in
the morning.  As you've discovered yourself it's a sad fact of life that
the plumbing starts working years before you have the experience and
maturity to make the best use of it.  So, Fran became my sex slave.  It
wasn't an ideal solution but it worked.  She had one out of wedlock child
instead of several, and ended up married to a small business owner who is
tolerant of her nature and unwilling to dig too deeply into a situation he
might be unwilling to tolerate and unable to change.

   "I suppose it's natural that when she has a similar problem with her own
child she'd bring it to the person who dealt with it for her.  This leaves
me both flattered and annoyed.  This is going to seem counter intuitive but
in a Dom/Sub relationship it's actually the Sub who has the final word. 
Fran will go on about how she couldn't refuse this, or never even thought
about resisting when ordered to do that, but it's nothing more than salve
for a raw conscience.  In the course of defining our relationship there was
more than one occasion when I told her to do something she really wasn't
ready for.  Some of the demands I made of her she may never be ready for.
Any time she made a real and definite refusal, whatever it was didn't
happen.  For that alone she owes me, big time!  If she'd been arranging her
own dates she'd have been raped for real, more than once.  Without me she
most likely would have been used and dumped by a series of boyfriends.  The
best she could have hoped for would have been using an unwanted pregnancy
to pressure one of them into marrying her before her reputation was
completely trashed.

   "Dominating somebody properly, full time, is an enormous amount of work.
I did it for Fran.  I did it for Erin.  I really don't have the time or
energy to do it for you.  We just finished Christmas and New Years is
coming up.  Lets see what we can accomplish in the next three days, shall
we?  You can start by taking your clothes off."

   "Uh, just like that?"

   "Uh-huh, just like that.  I have neither the time nor inclination to
ease you into this.  If you decide you don't want to be sexually abused say
the word and I'll call your mom to pick you up, otherwise, get your clothes
off now.  No, don't turn away face me while you undress.  I want to watch
you getting naked for me.  You do realize that when I say, 'for me', that
also includes anyone I choose to have you couple with."

   "What do I get in return?"

   She laughed out loud.

   "Oh Johnny.  Why on earth would you think there was going to be anything
reciprocal about this arrangement?"

   "Well, it hardly seems fair that I'd have to do anything and everything
without getting something in return."

   "You're right.  If I was the least bit worried about being fair that
might start to really bother me after a while.  If you came here with the
idea that being treated fairly was part of the package you might want to
reconsider your decision.  Is there room in that gym bag you brought for
the clothes you were wearing?  If so pack them.  Shoes you can leave in the
hall closet.  There should be a pair of sandals in there you can wear.  You
don't have an erection.  Don't you find me attractive?"

   "Yes, uh..."

   "Ma'am will do for now.  I'm not sure I'll ever want you on a first name
basis with me, and I don't allow a man to call me mistress until he has
given me at least one orgasm.  We'll get to that eventually, if you don't
run off to hide behind mommy first."

   That comment about hiding behind mom pretty much sealed my fate.  As my
friend Cheryl is fond of saying, I wasn't there to play checkers.  Having
my aunt order me to strip was weird but not as bad as some things Pam had
asked me to do.  It's just that it *wasn't* a request or suggestion.  I
could bail anytime a gut check turned up negative.  Until then I was in her
world and my presence there was going to be on her terms.  While that
thought was intimidating the certainty of getting at least some sort of sex
out of it had me semi-hard by the time I swapped my shoes for a pair of
flip flops.  She noticed as I returned to the kitchen.

   "Ok, that's a little better.  It takes just as much time and effort to
dominate some half grown nerd as it does to put a real man through his
paces.  I like to see that my efforts are appreciated."

   "Yes ma'am."

   "Much better, with a little practice you might even get good at this. 
When was your last orgasm?"

   "This morning, ma'am."

   "No need to overdo it as long as you're attentive and respectful.  Was
your last orgasm assisted or solo?"

   "Solo."

   "Ok, first change.  No more solo play, at least not on your own
initiative.  You're still going to masturbate.  Perhaps not as frequently
as you have in the past, but often.  You are no longer going to be selfish
with your erections.  I'll not have you wasting a perfectly good hardon
just because an acceptable partner doesn't wish to make use of it right
this instant.

   "Which brings us to the topic of acceptable partners.  It's my
understanding that at the present time you couple more or less randomly
with anything short of stray dogs.  It isn't surprising.  Without my
guidance your mother wouldn't have done any better.  The simple fact that
your father managed to impregnate her proves he isn't exceptionally
discriminating either.  You're blushing.  It doesn't matter if its from
embarrassment, anger, or some combination.  You are also keeping your lip
zipped on whatever snotty response you'd like to make.  While that wouldn't
be worth comment in a real man, from a half grown twerp it's actually
impressive.  Keep it up and I may begin to regard my efforts on your behalf
as worth while for their own sake rather than a favor to Fran.

   "One advantage you have over your peers is that you have already
expanded your personal definition of acceptable partner to include members
of your own gender.  Female bisexuality is still more socially acceptable,
probably because of long standing bias against homosexuals, but social
mores will continue to change.  You may not have improved your odds of
getting a date for the prom, but you've cut your chances of spending
Saturday night alone by more than half.  You have also managed to annoy
Erin.  High on her list of favorite things is coercing straight boys to
suck cock.  I'm sure she'll find something else you'd rather not do, but
let that be a lesson to you.  If you'd been a little more discrete, you'd
now be in the position of a certain legendary rabbit begging not to be
thrown into the briar patch.

   "While Erin would have been helpful in that regard, we have limited
time. There is no way we are going to substantially modify your libido. 
Experts still disagree as to whether nature or nurture have more influence
but for all practical purposes what's there is there.  The flexibility that
remains is in your coping skills and how you decide to deal with it.  You
also have the advantage that socially and biologically males are the
aggressor in our species.  A woman eager for a romantic interlude has to
make herself attractive then run away slowly.  She doesn't have much
control over which man will pursue.  If she doesn't run she'll get a
reputation for being easy.  If she has the brass to turn it around and
actually go after the guy she wants, she'll frighten him away and get a
reputation as a man eating bitch.

   So, from now on you're not doing parties.  You are not doing random
hook-ups, and any female screening potential dates for you had better be
willing to do the same person herself.  I have no way to force you to
comply with my conditions regarding your behavior.  Simply knowing that
there are limits is enough for a rational adult.  My sister tells me you
often go several days without any release at all, in order to deliberately
raise your level of sexual frustration.  Thus making it easier for you to
participate in activities you would otherwise be reluctant to engage in. 
It's something else that wouldn't be worth comment in a real man but is
quite impressive in a boy your age.

   "I don't have time to let your frustration build naturally.  Erin will
be home shortly and I want to have you thoroughly warmed up for her. 
You're going to do whatever she wants eventually.  A certain amount of
whining and pleading amuses me but after a while it just gets tedious. 
Unless you enjoy getting your ass whipped I'd suggest you be very careful
how you complain about the way we treat you."

   Nancy got up and came around to my side of the table, unfastening her
slacks on the way.  Lowering them and her panties to mid thigh, she bent
over the table and displayed a lovely set of tan lines.

   "As I said, Erin will be home soon.  She knows you're here and you're
naked.  She may arrive alone.  She may be with friends.  I won't bother
trying to predict how many and what gender.  Until she gets here you are
going to use your tongue to lubricate and stimulate my anus.  You may
masturbate while doing so, but not to completion.  After she arrives, if
you have performed adequately, you will be permitted to engage in an act of
anal intercourse.  I have not yet decided whether you will give or receive,
and who will be your partner."

   Well it was nice of her to give me permission to stroke myself.  I
wasn't more than a couple of minutes into giving my first rim job when her
own fingers were churning away at her neatly trimmed muff.  Of course,
being able to cum made it much more entertaining for Nancy.  I was
certainly no stranger to sexual frustration but had never experienced
anything quite like this.  I was unable to keep my hands off my cock for
more than a few minutes at a time, and scared spitless of what might happen
if I came without my aunts permission.  It seemed like forever before Erin
arrived.  It couldn't have been that long though.  Nancy had only cum a
couple of times and she certainly wasn't holding back, trying to prolong
the experience.

   Erin wasn't alone.  That didn't startle me as much as the identity of
her guest.  I'd never have guessed that she knew Ellen, though to be fair I
really didn't know either womans social circle.  I later learned Ellen was
a recent addition, added as part of Erins most recent project.  While she
knew everything about my adventures and had seen photos of some of the most
embarrassing moments, Ellen had never actually walked in on me in the act.
The shock nearly pushed me over the edge before I could drop my cock. 
Acting like the nerd version of an Ostrich, I shoved my burning cheeks
deeper between those of Nancy's delectable ass.  At the time I was ignorant
enough to be relieved when Erin escorted her through the patio doors and
out into the back yard.  By the time they returned Nancy had either become
bored with my services or curious enough about Erins plans to give me a
break.  There isn't the slightest chance my own fatigue was a factor.

   Ellen didn't stay, but did pause beside me long enough to deliver a
message that made no sense on her way to the door.

   "It's OK.  I can understand how you couldn't approach me directly for
that sort of favor.  It will take me a little while to get used to the idea
and certainly won't be easy for me either, but I'm willing to help in any
way I can."

   I stood there blushing, staring at the floor, wondering why it wasn't
possible to dissolve and seep into the carpet.  I was so caught up in my
own situation that I didn't realize Ellen was blushing until she'd made her
exit and was driving away.  I was looking to Nancy for an explanation when
she in turn sent an inquiring eye towards Erin.  My half sister and cousin
had her own version of my aunts smirk.  I'd found it annoying from Nancy.
On Erin it was starting to scare me.

   "Oh, I was explaining to her how the idea of becoming Bruno's bitch
frightens our little slut.  If it was just a matter of kneeling there while
an animal used him for a fuck toy it would probably never happen. 
Submitting to sex with a mindless beast isn't enough of a turn on to make
the physical part of the coupling attractive.  One look at Bruno convinced
her the act itself would be, well, brutal was the word she used.  While she
readily conceded that Johnny had shocked her more than once, she didn't
believe he would engage in such an act simply for the physical sensations.
Not when those sensations would be so obviously disagreeable."

   "See?  I told you it wasn't going to happen."

   Nancy managed to hold her laughter to a single snort.  Erin's smirk
didn't change in any way I could describe but it made me recall Nancy's
comment about getting my ass whipped.

   "Well, yes, a purely physical coupling is off the table.  That was never
my intention anyway.  It's your history of, how did your mother put it,
offering yourself unconditionally for the sexual gratification of another
person, that piqued my interest.  That and the link you have formed between
embarrassment and sexual arousal.  Ellen agreed that homosexual intercourse
with a dog, would be without a doubt the most degrading, humiliating act
imaginable.  However, dogs as a general rule don't, 'kiss and tell'.  Mom
and I are nearly as discrete.  Either of us could take a few snapshots for
circulating after the event but the incentive you need has to be in place
before anything will happen.

   "Your mother was my first thought, since you now know the origin of her
scars.  That social climate is too tight and unpredictable.  It would be
like using a flamethrower to light the candles on a birthday cake.  While
it would certainly get the job done the collateral damage would offset any
possible entertainment value.  When it was her turn you were younger.  The
scratches had time to scab over, both physically and emotionally, before
you were old enough to discover their cause.  If you had been present at
the time, and the age you are now, the experience might have been too much
for her.

   "Pam and/or Cheryl would be an obvious choice in view of your history.
Unfortunately neither of them has the experience or maturity to fully
appreciate what the event would mean to you.  For them it would be one more
stunt, maybe a little more, 'out there', than previous acts but part of the
same continuum.  They wouldn't see it as some sort of ultimate act or rite
of passage.  For you to submit in this fashion it has to be as much of an
event for somebody you know well as it is for you."

   "You can't make me do that...  Not in front of Ellen...  Not even at
gunpoint..."

   "Don't be silly.  If it were a matter of force we could tie you down and
let Bruno have you in front of a movie camera.  What would be the point? 
I've told Ellen the idea of becoming Bruno's bitch both frightens and
fascinates you.  You could never pursue the idea on your own.  If Nancy or
I tried to push, you'd have to resist even if you secretly desired the
experience.  If Ellen suggested it you would still refuse, no matter how
much you wanted to please and impress her."

   "So?  It isn't going to happen.  That's what I've been telling you."

   "Perhaps.  In any case the final decision has to be yours.  Acting on
your behalf, what I asked Ellen to do, is fantasize.  She agreed to imagine
you engaging in this act, not for your own gratification, but for hers. 
You are aware that she has masturbated countless times while fantasizing
about you and your antics.  The deep sense of shame afterwards has not been
enough to deter her.  She considers herself depraved for thinking that way
about a *nice* boy.  I convinced her that a young man who would allow
himself to be raped by a canine for the titillation of a female audience,
couldn't possibly retain his *nice* status."

   "You didn't!  She wouldn't!  You, you...  *BITCH*!"

   "Well...  Really now.  I told you up front that I was evil.  She's had
enough time to get home.  I doubt that she'll wait until later, although
she'll probably do it more than once.  I could wait a few more minutes and
give her a call.  There really isn't any need to, is there?  From the
volume of your protests alone it's obvious that you know exactly what
she'll be doing when she picks up the phone."

   Her smirk blossomed into full smile as she stepped forward and grabbed
my dick with one hand while starting to pop the buttons on her blouse with
the other.  I hadn't realized it, wouldn't have believed it, but I'd
started to lose the erection I had when Ellen left.  Erin's practiced touch
and the thought of Ellen masturbating had me hard again in moments, though
I mentally shied away from what Ellen would be thinking.  Nancy's voice was
a surprise and I'll have to admit, a welcome one.

   "He's right you know.  Maybe brat is more accurate.  He was very sweet
to me before you got here and should be rewarded.  Continue undressing. 
I'm going to allow him to spank you, then use you sexually for the rest of
the day.  I know you'll probably enjoy it but Johnny will have the
satisfaction of making you a fuckhole's bitch, or is it a bitches fuckhole?
I won't cheat him of that just to keep you from having a good time.

   "Johnny?  I know it will be difficult, but resist the urge to punch her
face in.  Slaps are OK as long as they won't show when she's dressed. 
Don't worry about anything you do to her with your penis.  You'd have to
ram it down her throat and hold it there to do any permanent damage.  While
the thought of that might be amusing I'm sure she'd bite before she'd
suffocate.  Try to pace yourself.  I'm planning to have lunch ready in an
hour.  That should be long enough for you to take the edge off.  Be
creative.  I'm curious if you'll find something she hasn't done before."

   Well, I did, eventually.  It took a while.  Besides, that's a different
story.
   (not quite) The End