Author: Virtual Scott
Title: Falling
Part: 9
Summary: Linnea's parents get an offer they can't refuse
Keywords: mc FF MM fdom fsolo reluc

Chapter 9, In which I am not such a bad girl

It was weird enough to be having an impromptu dinner party with my
estranged parents, but I'd just found out my girlfriend, Stacey, was
scheming to restore my access to the family trust. Daddy and Mommy had cut
me off after I'd moved in with my deceased brother's gay boyfriend -- they
weren't what you'd call broad-minded.

If that wasn't enough excitement for one night, I'd just confessed to
Stacey that I'd been having a long-distance affair with a stripper in
Texas named Jenny. Stacey was the jealous type, and my revelation hadn't
gone over well. The only reason she hadn't completely lowered the boom on
me was that she was juggling so many things at once.

Stacey could do magic, you see. It had something to do with hair, and some
sort of special "lip balm" she had, but done right, she could skew what
people saw and thought, or even wanted. I'd tried it once, but only
managed to turn Jenny and myself into sluts.

Just at the moment, my parents were seated at our dinner table, either not
noticing or not caring that everybody except Stacey was naked, and
masturbating instead of arguing. Daddy didn't think much of anything I'd
done the last few years, so he'd been doing a lot of jerking off.

Stacey and I had been talking in her bedroom; she'd used a new trick I'd
never seen that left me falling all over myself to confess my history with
Jenny -- doing anything Stacey asked felt *way* better than masturbation.

Our roommate, Michael, finally looked in to see what we were doing. There
was a lot of tension between him and Stacey, mostly centering on me. That
was because he loved drilling my asshole with his stiff cock, and she
didn't like sharing me. Stacey couldn't complain too much since she was
the one responsible for confusing him into thinking he was fucking my
brother, Peter, when he cornholed me.

Also, Michael was Stacey's sponsor at their "Mind Controllers Anonymous"
self-help group, although frankly I wondered if the pair of them hadn't
fallen off the wagon, so to speak. Since I'd had like a hundred times as
much mind-blowing sex since meeting Stacey as in my entire life before,
*I* wasn't going to complain; what consenting adults did was their own
business.

"You're going to do *everything* you can to make sure you regain access to
your trust, right Linnea?" Stacey not-quite-asked as she helped me to my
feet.

I nodded eagerly, anxious to try somehow to make up for my betrayal and
express my love and devotion to her. The jolt of arousal that accompanied
my agreement was a bonus.

Michael eyed my disheveled condition. "Are you sure you're okay, Linnea?"
They'd probably heard me screaming.

Stacey patted him on the shoulder, palming a hair and transferring it to
her mouth so skillfully that only somebody watching her closely -- like me
-- could see it happen. "She's fine. Why don't you go back and keep Peter
company?" Her mouth twisted into sort of a smile. "That horny bastard's
probably jerking himself off now that you've been out of sight for 15
seconds!"

"But--" My mouth froze under Stacey's wilting stare, and closed with a
quiet sigh of pleasure. I watched Michael blink slowly and begin hardening
as he considered what she'd just told him.

He grinned and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

"Stacey!" I gasped, once we were alone again. "Daddy will *kill* Michael!
Why did you do that?"

She smiled at me, but it didn't reach her eyes; clearly I wasn't forgiven.
"Didn't you tell me your father's inability to deal with your brother's
homosexuality was the reason for your family problems? I think once he
works through that, he'll be much more comfortable with us."

"Well..." I couldn't really fault her logic, but it still seemed a bit
mean-spirited, even if Daddy probably deserved it.

"I *want* your father and Michael to really get to know each other,"
Stacey emphasized, evidently growing a little impatient with me.

"Oh!" Maybe they would end up killing each other, but once she'd put it
that way -- "Okay." Agreeing felt so good it was easy to ignore the
feeling I somehow was being disloyal to Michael.

This time Stacey's smile looked genuine. "Let's join them, shall we?"

I hurried along behind her, hoping she'd ask me to do more things.



That turned out not to be a problem. If I'd been teasing Daddy and Mommy
earlier that evening, it was nothing compared to what happened after we
returned. Stacey seated herself at the head of the table, and commenced
ordering me about as if she were the Queen. I, of course, was only too
happy to comply with her every request, and my parents were too distracted
by Michael to pay much attention to us.

Michael's cock stood rigidly at attention, its tip glistening with precum,
as he moved about to refill everyone's coffee cups. Daddy and Mom clearly
were a little uncomfortable with the display, especially because Michael
had a certain look in his eyes, which remained resolutely focused on Daddy
the entire time.

Between sensuous licks of Stacey's toes, I watched the storm intensify.
Daddy scowled at Michael and fisted his meat, which only excited Michael
more, which prompted Daddy to stroke himself more urgently. Their pas de
deux was punctuated by occasional faint squeaks from Mom.

I forgot to breath, or lick, waiting for the inevitable explosion. Stacey
appeared equally interested and didn't reprimand me for my lack of
enthusiasm.

Finally, Michael reached out to grab Daddy's cock. "C'mon, Peter; I can
help you with that," he grinned.

"You..." snarled Daddy, his face dark and angry, and then he suddenly
paused. A look of confused horror and pleasure crossed his face, and he
spurted several jets of semen onto an excited Michael. It frankly was
rather impressive, considering his age and the fact I knew he'd cum
several times already.

"You're a nasty boy," Michael leered, and stroked himself briefly before
returning the favor. Since he was younger and fresher, and standing up,
Daddy got a generous coating of spunk across his chest and face.

Mom's arm trembled like she was having a seizure. "Oh my God!" she gasped,
before staggering to her feet. "This is obscene!" She jerked again and
then stumbled from the room.

"I don't think she's ever masturbated," I whispered when Stacey looked at
me.

Stacey appeared at a loss for the first time since I'd met her. "What *is*
it with your family?" she muttered under her breath, before addressing
Daddy more forcefully. "Gay sex is pretty hot, isn't it? You were wrong to
take away Linnea's access to her trust, and you want to give it back,
right?"

Daddy stuttered, "N-n-n--" and started fisting himself again, harder than
ever. Then my view was blocked when Michael leaned over and kissed him,
right on the mouth.

I gaped at them until Stacey nudged me with her foot.

"Go find your mother. Fucking show her how to jill off; demonstrate if you
need to." I nodded eagerly, feeling like I was in heat. "You can let
yourself cum once after she does, and again when she agrees to release
your trust fund."

It seemed a bit, well, mercenary, to keep focusing on the money, but I
knew it meant a lot to Stacey. It nearly broke my heart to think Mom had
lived her life without experiencing the joy of a good self-induced orgasm,
and I mentally kicked myself for not thinking of her plight sooner. I
would have been lying if I'd said the prospect of having permission to
diddle myself didn't excite me, too.

Mom was looking around the living room, probably for her clothes, when I
caught up with her. She whirled to face me, tears in her eyes. "Linnea,
why are we acting this way? What's happening to me? It's so" -- she
struggled with the word -- "wrong!" She panted, hands trembling uselessly
at her sides.

"Oh, Mommy!" I thought about hugging her, but she flinched. "It's not
wrong; people masturbate all the time -- you should try it." I
demonstrated by sliding a finger into my slit, which nearly made me jump.
I was dying for relief anyway, and the knowledge that Stacey wanted me to
do it ratcheted my arousal even higher.

"It feels *so* good," I urged, working the finger deeper and using it to
transfer moisture to my clit, coating it and my rings until they gleamed.
"Look; it's not so hard." That was unnecessary advice, as Mom was staring
at me like she was seeing me for the first time. I caressed my breast, but
regretfully left my nipple alone -- just a brush told me any more contact
would set me off, and it was too early.

"You look like a little girl!" she exclaimed, eyeing my bare mound. "And
those rings! It seems -- sluttish," Mom said. She was big on elliptical
arguments, preferring to avoid outright confrontation. "Sluttish" really
meant "totally inappropriate and not something my daughter should be
doing, much less myself." Regardless, her hand had drifted near her bush,
but she was poking at herself the same way she'd use a broom to dislodge a
dead spider from a window.

She was just so weird sometimes. "It's not sluttish," I protested,
trapping her hand in mine. I guided it to the juncture of her thighs,
getting only token resistance, and rubbed it along her cleft several
times. Her eyes widened, but she didn't pull away, even when I levered her
index finger deeper and pressed it firmly where her clit should be.

"Oh!" Mom gasped, and I grinned. She sounded like a kid who'd tried a bite
of something new and found it tasted better than expected. I moved her
hand a few more times, and she kept stroking herself after I let go.

"It feels good, doesn't it?" I panted, stroking myself again to
demonstrate. It really did, but when I layered on top of that the pleasure
of helping Mom, and the arousal of doing what Stacey had ordered, it was
nearly orgasmic. I really wanted to jam a finger or three in my ass, but I
wasn't sure Mom was ready for that.

I took a deep breath and gently guided her towards the sofa. She twitched,
perhaps thinking I was going to try something else, but let me sit her
down without any resistance. Mom's finger didn't miss a beat. I sprawled
happily in the armchair, making sure she could see everything I was doing,
and resumed pleasuring myself.

Daddy shouted something from the dinner table, but the living room was
quiet except for the liquid sounds of our fingers. "I can't believe you
never got yourself off," I told Mom.

She raised her eyes briefly to my face. "It's not very ladylike," she
demurred, but I noticed her finger started going a little faster.

Whether it was solely Stacey's magic, or Mom was getting into it, or a
little of both, I decided to treat the situation like one of my phone sex
calls with Jenny. It didn't take long for me to forget myself entirely and
just let the memories and fantasies spill from my mouth.

"...and he was packing a bulge like you wouldn't believe! I mean, my ass
was just aching for him! I was *so* tempted to follow him into the men's
room, but my connection was tight and his wife looked pretty territorial.
Not that she wasn't pretty tasty-looking, herself," I sighed.

Mom squirmed on the couch. "Oh my God," she whispered in an unreadable
tone of voice, never taking her eyes off my dripping slit.

Did the thought of making it with a woman make her hot? I could sympathize
with that! Smiling to myself, I shifted my monologue. "Yeah, she was
wearing those yoga pants -- you know the skin-tight ones that hit really
low on your hips? She couldn't have had more than a thong on underneath
it, and I bet she was shaved." I moaned at the thought of how sexy a bare
girl was; so did Mom.

"It's just so hot to see a clean pussy," I breathlessly continued. "The
way a girl's smooth skin feels under my tongue -- it just draws me in. I
can eat out Stacey for hours." I was so wet I had to stop and suck on a
dripping finger. "If that woman hadn't looked like such a bitch, I bet I
could have turned her gay -- or at least bi -- without even trying."

The mental image of the nameless woman writhing on my tongue superimposed
itself over Mom, and I started to buck. Just as quickly, she morphed into
a stern-looking Stacey and I jerked my hands away, feeling unsatisfied and
hotter than ever. I was being a good little slut, but I wanted to cum
badly and Mom *still* was holding up the show.

"O-oh, Linnea," Mom gasped, "When did you stop being the daughter I
raised? You never" -- she had to catch her breath and force the word out
-- "used to do things... like this." Her face was red and her body
glistened with sweat, and she arched away from the seat beneath her in an
unconscious attempt to bury her hand more deeply within her.

"Like jill off?" I laughed. "Mom, I started doing that when I barely had
anything to shave down there!" She looked stricken, and I thought she was
going to orgasm, but didn't quite make it. "Oh yes, I'd pull up my demure
nightgown late at night and diddle my juicy little cunny with a finger or
then a little candle, holding a pillow over my face so I didn't make a
sound."

It hadn't been the happiest time of my life. "God, I was so screwed up! I
spent my high school years convinced I was going to go to Hell for doing
something *everybody* was doing." I loved my parents, but I realized this
had been simmering inside for a long time. I stood up, channeling some of
my energy into nervous pacing.

"I'd like to go back in time and tell that girl not to be afraid. I'd love
to taste her creamy little gash and show her how to use her body and enjoy
it without fear." I glanced at Mom, who looked like she'd forgotten how to
breathe. "I know a girl who was Purity Club Vice President; I sucked on
her cunt while a guy took her anal cherry at the same time! Not so pure
now, eh?"

Mom looked like she was cumming her brains out, joints locked and
trembling violently with her hands trapped between her legs. I knew
Stacey'd be happy, but just then I was still caught between my wave of
indignation and happy memories of Jenny, the ultimate Forbidden Subject.

"I have orgasms every night. I love being with other women as well as men.
I've fucked people I didn't know or wouldn't even recognize again. I've
done it in public, and in groups, and even used the missionary position
once in a while. I admit it -- I'm a slut, and I like it!"

Hands on hips, I stood in front of Mom and stared at her. "But that
doesn't make me a bad person, Mom. I'm still the same daughter you had,
and I still love you and Daddy just as much as ever. But I'm not going to
hide the way I feel, like Peter did." I spread my glistening labia with
one hand and deliberately inserted two fingers deep inside myself. "And if
I feel like getting off, I'm not going to hide in my bed!"

"Oh! Linnea!" Mom gasped brokenly. Her wide eyes followed every slightest
movement of my hand. "You'll always be my little girl, Sweetie. It's
just..." Her body tensed and relaxed again, and then she licked her lips.
"You're so forward!"

I smirked, thinking of Jenny. My pulse quickened, and I twisted a ring,
applying delicious pressure to my throbbing clit. "We're all sluts inside,
Mom. Masturbation's the least of it! I heard other girls talking back in
school, and it's even worse, now. You know how early girls lose their
virginity?" I thought about Jenny and I finding another girl, but the
image stubbornly kept morphing into an imperious Stacey.

Mom looked from me to her hand, which was trembling in the vicinity of her
thigh. "They *fuck* in high school?" She made the question sound more like
a statement, and even now I was surprised to hear her drop the F-bomb. Her
hand darted to her slit like a frightened animal seeking refuge. "That's
so -- huh -- wrong!"

It became clear how things were going to go. "I wish I'd experimented
more," I said, honestly. "There were a few girls who were, you know, like
Stacey." Abbie Givens had been Goth before it was fashionable, and there'd
been whispers. The thought made my insides clench.

"With other girls?" Mom panted, obviously aroused. "The little sluts! Did
they sh-sh-sha-shave -- Oh my God!" She was eyeing my bared mound with
obvious desire.

Sure, I'd do anything for Stacey, but that didn't mean I was excited about
the idea of making it with my own mother; that was just gross. I wasn't
sure if Stacey had planned it that way or not, but Mom apparently had
discovered a way to break through her mental block against
self-gratification.

Now I just had to think fast enough to get her thinking about something
besides me. "Do you think Daddy was right to cut me and Peter off from the
trust?" I asked, mentally holding my breath.

"Oh, yes, Sweetie," she answered automatically, just as she'd always
supported him, and then she thought about it, fingers slowing. "Well, no.
No, it seems wrong."

I smiled as she started getting into herself again, and I knew I was going
to be cumming soon. "Isn't it right for Daddy to do that if he thinks I'm
a bad girl? The kind who sleeps with other women, shaves herself, and gets
pierced? A slut with absolutely no morals?" Actually, I had plenty of
morals, but Mom's face was beet red and she was whipping up lather between
her legs.

Mom threw her head back, her eyes glazed but still watching my bare slit,
where I was matching her stroke for stroke. "Fuck! Fuck! No, no matter how
nasty! It's too harsh!" She exhaled explosively on the last word,
climaxing again.

My legs felt like rubber, but I wasn't quite done. "Will you come and tell
Stacey that, right now?"

Her eyes grew wide, and for a moment I thought I'd blown it. "Like this?"
She gestured vaguely at herself, and I had to admit she was a sight. Her
normally well-groomed hairdo was a distressed, sweat-soaked mess, red
blooms decorated her face and chest, and her crotch reminded me of a
hair-clogged bathtub drain. "Why not?" she smiled, surprising me and
climbing wearily to her feet.

She surprised me again as I turned to exit the room. "Mom!" I wriggled
away from the hand on my ass using a move I'd perfected in bars during my
college years.

"Oh, loosen up, Linnea," she told me when I looked back at her. "Isn't
that what you were telling me?"

"Not that loose," I retorted, suppressing a mild shudder.

Mom's smile was tinged with regret. "Maybe it's too late to start over
with you, Linnea, but there must be other--" The pair of us stopped dead
in our tracks and gaped.

"I -- am -- not -- your -- boyfriend!" Daddy shouted. He punctuated every
word with a pile driver thrust of his cock into Michael's ass. As we
watched, another water glass toppled and rolled off the table. Stacey sat
calmly at the head of the table, capturing it all on my phone. "Fucking
homo! You've destroyed my family!"

"Hypocrite!" Mom screamed, freezing everybody. "I see the reports of your
sluttish behavior are not overblown, after all," she added with a biting
sarcasm I'd never heard from her.

Daddy looked confused, which was new. He opened his mouth, but no words
came.

"I certainly see no reason we should not grant Linnea's request for her
trust money," Mom continued in a calmer, if no less determined, tone of
voice.

Stacey smiled approvingly and I collapsed in a wave of ecstasy.

"Absolutely not!" barked Daddy, barely audible through the roaring in my
ears. Michael moaned, too, I think.

In contrast, every word Stacey spoke reverberated through my being, urging
me to crawl faster to my rightful place between her legs. "I think you'll
change your mind, unless you want this video to go viral," she threatened.
"Linnea's been such a good girl; surely you won't deny her her due?"

Thoughts of the rest of them already had fled my mind. I looked up at my
beautiful Stacey, filled to bursting by the sound of her luscious voice. A
tiny nod was all the permission I needed to thrust my head under her dress
and worship at the fount of her womanhood. I felt light-headed, suffocated
between her thighs, but I was exactly where I wanted to be.