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The Game Controls
by Catalingus (catalingus2005@yahoo.com)

***

A mother discovers the true extent of the pleasure she 
takes at dominating others when she finds that it 
extends to her own daughter. (Ff, ped, nc, inc, oral)

***

I have always had two major personality traits... ever 
since I was a little girl. They have, as far as I can 
tell, always been the driving force in my life. The 
first is that I am a natural dominant. What I mean by 
this is not just that I always expect people to obey 
and serve me, but also that they always do. I have a 
natural tendency to be in control, and other people 
respond to that with submission, though I do not really 
understand why. 

It makes life wonderfully easy. In fact, my grandmother 
had the same strength and it made her incredibly 
wealthy. When the end of her life came, she bypassed my 
poor insignificant mother and handed the money over to 
her true heir: me. I will never have to work for as 
long as I live.

The other major personality trait is my extreme desire 
for sexual gratification. It’s a part of being a 
natural queen, I suppose. I have an overactive drive 
and I couple it with the belief that my own pleasure is 
the only one that matters.

It amazes me how completely people respond to my power, 
and how wonderfully enjoyable it is to abuse that. In 
middle school, my best friend was a girl named Cindy. 

We talked a lot about boys, as girls often do, but at a 
sleepover one night I decided that I wanted to see how 
it felt to by kissed between my legs. Although I know 
she would never consider it with any other person, 
Cindy was soon in my sleeping bag with her lips against 
my mound. It was the beginning of a beautiful 
friendship.

By the time I was in high school, I was the most 
popular girl in school. I indulged myself with boys, 
mostly, although Cindy was pleasuring me on a regular 
basis as well. In my first year of college, however, 
two things happened. First of all, my grandmother died 
and made me rich. Second of all, I became pregnant.

Jenna was born on my own twentieth birthday. She was an 
easy child to raise, because she was so eager to 
please. Most people were. By the time she was six she 
could and did do most of the housework. She was 
technically home-schooled, but I paid the tutor twice 
her fee to not show up and forge Jenna’s scores. Jenna 
was a sub, and as far as I’m concerned they don’t need 
to learn. She, like nearly all people, was here to 
serve. 

She did learn some things, though. She learned how to 
cook a number of meals. She learned how to give a great 
full-body massage from a master in the field. She 
learned how to properly bathe me and dry me off. She 
also learned a lot about human anatomy because I never 
wore clothes around the house and neither did my 
occasional pleasure-toys. Sometimes we fucked in front 
of her. It was ok... after all, she was the one who was 
going to have to clean up any stains.

When the girl turned seven, she began asking questions. 
Who were all those people (my pets), why did they do 
whatever I said (that’s what a pet does, dear), what 
was I (their owner), was she their owner too (no, 
darling, you are a pet as well), whose pet (mine).

That last part confused her. It shouldn’t have... she 
was massaging the back of my thighs when she asked. But 
for a few days she seemed uncertain. Then, something 
happened that apparently made her mind up for her.

I sent Jenna to collect groceries. It was only four 
blocks to the nearest grocery, and I never had her get 
too much at any one time. She walked. 

While she was gone, a girl scout came selling cookies. 
She was young... maybe ten years old. But she made two 
major mistakes: she caught me during a dry spell (which 
really only means it had been a week since anybody had 
pleased me) and she invited herself in to tell me about 
all the delicious cookies. She was adorable in her 
little Girl Scout skirt.

By the time Jenna returned home, little miss girl scout 
was on her knees in front of me, with her face buried 
in my crotch. I had a grip on her braid with one hand, 
and was using it to run her face up and down my slit. 
All she really did was hold her tongue out. I was 
masturbating with her face. I looked up in my passion, 
and saw Jenna staring. Here was a girl not that much 
older than her, pleasing me the way other pets did. I 
winked at her, and smiled as I began to feel an orgasm 
coming on. 

I should mention that, when I had Jenna, it changed my 
body slightly. Birthing does that to a woman. Ever 
since that day, and I have no idea why, I have been a 
squirter. When I cum, I cum like a man. Not like you 
might see in a second-rate porn where the lady shoots 
out a few thin spurts. It’s more like a Peter North 
video. It’s beautiful, really.

I knew this little face pressed into the heat between 
my thighs was not going to be able to handle it, and 
while I had no doubt she would never tell a soul what 
had happened today I didn’t want to send her home with 
lady-juice on her face. So instead, I pushed her to the 
side and let my fluids splash onto the floor in front 
of me and coat my own sex as I moaned in orgasm.

Jenna sighed. She knew the drill when I fucked. She 
went and got a warm washcloth, and with the cookie girl 
watching in fascination, she knelt down between my legs 
and gently cleaned off my sex. I purred at the feeling 
of the warm softness. Jenna then began the process of 
cleaning my fluids off the carpet.

This was a common practice for her. After all, I 
usually had to train my lovers to be able to take all 
my juices, and until they were trained the fluids had 
to be taken care of by someone. Anyway, I masturbate 
often and it is most certainly not a domme’s concern 
where fluids fly. That is for subs to worry about.

There was something, though, about the sight of Jenna 
kneeling there cleaning that was exciting me. It was 
odd... never before had I felt that way. She was just 
there to make my life easier. It was never sexual in 
nature. She was a pet, but not that kind of pet.

Today, she looked to me the same as the cookie girl.

I looked at the Girl Scout. "You haven’t thanked me," I 
told her.

She frowned. "Th-thank you?"

I laughed, deep and feline. "Jenna," I said, "show the 
young lady how a pet thanks its mistress."

Jenna looked surprised. She surely was. My other pets 
all learned how to thank me, and she knew how they did 
it, but she had never been expected to before. She 
didn’t seem certain that she should, that I meant it. 
The implications were probably alarming to her. I 
tapped one finger on the top half of my pussy 
impatiently, and at last she leaned forward to show 
this other little creature how it was done. 

Puckering up, she kissed the top half of my snatch, so 
that her top lip was just above the line and her bottom 
lip was applying soft pressure to my clit. I smiled and 
waved my hand. 

"Good girl. Now go start mommy’s bath. I wish to relax 
for a while."

Jenna paused for a brief moment to look up at her 
mother with slightly nervous, almost fearful eyes. Then 
she scurried away to do what she was told like a good 
little pet. I turned to the Girl Scout.

"I don’t think we’ll need any cookies. I don’t much 
care for them. But you are to stop by this house every 
time you are selling. Now thank me and go."

She scurried over and returned her lips to my body.

I have a large bathtub. It’s more like a hot tub than 
anything. It can fit a number of my pets along with me. 
When Jenna bathes me, I sit in the center while she 
sponges my shoulders, back, and breasts. I then stand 
so she can thoroughly clean my lower back, ass, and 
legs. 

Finally I turn around so she can do the same with my 
front. It was like this, with her in the tub and me 
standing before her, that she began asking questions 
again that day. My pussy, which had only moments before 
known her lips, hovered directly in front of her. 

"Mistress," she asked (I had been teaching her to call 
me that of late), "who was that girl?"

I chuckled. "Just a pet. I don’t know her name."

"Oh." She paused, focused on her work. "She did what 
the adults do, huh."

"You mean suck me off?"

She turned bright red, and almost dropped the sponge. 
"I... um..."

"Yes, she did. She wasn’t very good. The young ones 
rarely have had enough training."

She looked up at me. "Did... did she like it?"

I shrugged. "I really don’t care or know if she enjoyed 
the act. She enjoyed pleasing me, and so she performed. 
You know how that works. Do you enjoy cooking?" I knew 
that she hated cooking for me.

"No!"

"But you enjoy pleasing me, and so you do it."

She dipped the sponge and continued. "Yes, mistress."

"Then it doesn’t matter. You know well, my child, that 
the only thing that really matters is me."

"Yes mistress." She still seemed curious. "But do 
you... do you think she liked the way it tasted?"

I smiled, and ran a hand slowly down my lower stomach 
before trailing one finger up along the crease of my 
snatch. The strange questioning alone was turning me 
on.

"I don’t know, my pet," I said. I looked down at her 
and stared right into her eyes as I pressed my palm to 
my center and rubbed against it "do you think she did?" 
I was breathing heavy. Her eyes moved constantly 
between my sneering gaze and the act of masturbation 
that was happening mere inches from her face. I had 
never, ever done this before and I don’t really know 
why it was turning me on now. But goddamn it felt good. 
She was blushing, and started to back up to give me 
room.

"Don’t fucking move," I warned her, and stepped forward 
to close the gap. I overshot, and now my heated sex was 
so close that the hand atop it bumped her nose as it 
moved. I switched to sliding two fingers upon my clit, 
and moaned. Finally, I dipped the two fingers into my 
body and pressed them against my daughter’s lips. She 
didn’t pull back or flinch. She didn’t react at all. 
She just stared at them.

"Taste it." My voice was throaty with lust.

Tentatively, she licked quickly at one finger. I shook 
my head. She opened her mouth, and I slid the fingers 
in. "Suck," I said. She did, then, running her tongue 
against the skin while she sucked them clean. I pulled 
the finger back out, and placed my hands on my hips. 
"Well?" I asked. "Did you like the taste?" 

It was a trap, we both knew. She couldn’t say no. No 
pet ever could. But if she said yes, it had the 
potential to change everything. She said nothing for a 
moment, simply stared at my crotch which now threatened 
to tap against her nose. 

I softly petted her with one hand. "Your breath feels 
exquisite against my pussy, pet. But tell me..." I 
cupped her small face and turned it up towards me. "Do 
you want more?"

Her eyes held fear, but also that same desperate desire 
to please that all people had for me. It was stronger 
in her, because she more than any other was my property 
for now and all time.

"Yes, mistress," she said, giving me the only answer 
allowed to her.

The rush of the moment was invigorating, but I wanted 
to enjoy this new journey. I smiled down at her, 
feeling her exhale on my sex, letting her twist in the 
torment of the uncertainty of just what I was expecting 
her to do. Her eyes dropped to my crotch. And then I 
stepped back. "My bath is done, pet. Fetch a towel to 
dry me."

She scurried away and came back with a towel. I stepped 
out of the bath and, as always, she thoroughly dried 
me. As she started to scurry away, I snapped my 
fingers. She turned around, terror in her eyes, and I 
smiled at her. "You forgot to thank me, pet," I pointed 
to my pussy. 

She walked over and slowly leaned forward until she was 
level (it wasn’t far; she was short for her young age). 
When she pressed her lips to mine, I placed one hand on 
the back of her head and held her there for a brief 
moment before letting go. "Good girl," I said as she 
left the room.

The strength of my hormonal response was so intense 
that it was hard to think clearly. I tried reading, but 
it was no use. Television disinterested me. Phone calls 
from pets eager to serve for the night were dull. 
Thinking about her tiny lips wrapped around my finger 
drove my passions to uncontrollable levels. 

Maybe she didn’t want more of my taste, but she very 
clearly wanted to please me more in that area. And that 
was what scared her so bad. That night I masturbated 
just for the pleasure of having her softly clean my sex 
and once again remove my juices from the couch. It 
didn’t relieve the excitement; it only made it worse. 

I had never been pedophilic in nature, but first I had 
used the Girl Scout and now I was feeling a great rush 
at the prospect of dominating my seven year old 
daughter. I had glorious dreams.

***

The next morning she brought me breakfast in bed as 
always. She awoke each day at seven so she could get a 
number of chores done and be ready to awaken me by 
nine. She looked a little on edge as she watched me eat 
this day. She knew that when I was done, it was bath 
time. She probably hoped something would come up and 
bath time would never come.

Bath time did come, however, and she again found 
herself cleansing my body while I stood, facing away 
from her, she took her time in an effort to delay the 
inevitable. Her soapy hands ran along the inside of my 
ass, and the soft sponge tickled against my skin. 

I ruined her attempts at avoiding destiny by moaning as 
she slowly scrubbed my ass and saying that she was 
reminding me of Jonathan. Jonathan was an old pet whose 
specialty was licking my ass. He spent hours buried 
between my cheeks, sometimes with me atop his face. He 
did a fantastic job, and Jenna had seen him in action 
numerous times. She sped up and finally I turned 
around. She looked so scared, down there beneath my 
pussy. I love power.

"Darling," I moaned, and ran a finger across her cheek, 
"thinking of Jonathan has made me horny. Do you know 
why?"

She bit her lip. "No, mistress." She lied.

"Because, pet, Jonathan made mommy feel so very, very 
good. That’s what pets do. You want to make mommy feel 
as good as he did, don’t you? To make mommy feel good 
like Jonathan did?" The question, she knew, held two 
parts. On the surface, I was asking her about whether 
she cared for my happiness, my continuing enjoyment of 
life. The underlying suggestion, though, was that I 
might expect her to tongue my ass the way Jonathan had 
so very many times. I bet she could smell my pussy.

She looked like she wanted to cry. A rush of sexual 
energy ran through me. "Yes, mistress," she answered.

"Good girl," I said, chuckling. "Very good girl. You 
are such a well-behaved pet, I’m going to let you have 
a treat." I stepped forward so that my pussy was 
resting on her face. It was amazing. For the first time 
I had my sex pressed to the small features of my seven 
year old daughter, and her eyes peaked out from beneath 
me. For a moment I said nothing, and nobody moved. I 
just smiled down at her terrified, yet excited, eyes. 

"You said yesterday that you wanted more," I reminded 
her. "Mommy wants to cum, but she wants some help 
getting started. I’m going to let you have four licks. 
Make the most of them, pet." I said the last part 
sternly, letting her know there would be no nonsense 
quick licks allowed. 

I felt it then. Her tongue pressed to the bottom of my 
pussy, and ran all the way up to the top. I could see 
her jaw working as it moved. The lightening bolt of 
pleasure was unlike anything I’d felt before. I moaned, 
and felt my legs go weak. The result was that my weight 
pressed slightly heavier against her face. She didn’t 
budge. She just gave me another slow, mechanical lick. 
The same lightening struck me. It was so powerful, I 
knew I must already be incredibly juicy against her 
mouth. 

She was most certainly getting a taste of me. A third 
lick elicited a louder, gasping moan from me. The 
fourth almost sent me over the edge. Afterwards she 
remained pressed into my pussy, knowing only I had the 
right to break that contact. After recovering slightly 
and pausing to enjoy the feel of her soft features 
against mine, I stood upright. She was outside of my 
snatch now, but still only about an inch away and an 
two inches below. Hardly any space at all. I smiled 
down at her. 

"Such a good girl," I cooed, as I began masturbating. 
"You did very well, for an untrained child."

She looked pleased by the compliment. Enough so that 
she offered up "I like it." Whether it was true or not 
was irrelevant to me. The words themselves only 
intensified my arousal.

"Of course you do, pet." I said breathily as I diddled 
myself in front of her. "If you continue to be such a 
good girl, I’ll teach you to really worship my pussy." 
I moaned. "Wouldn’t that be just perfect?"

"Yes," she whispered. 

I played with myself for a time, prolonging my pleasure 
in an effort to build up the eventual release. She 
watched carefully, perhaps locating the areas that I 
liked having attention paid to. Finally I spoke to her. 
"Do you remember... ah... remember Karen?" 

Her eyes widened slightly. "Yes, mistress." Karen was a 
pet from back before Jenna was trained to clean up my 
fluids. Karen was unable to handle the volume of my 
ejaculation directed into her mouth, although she 
"liked" the taste (they all did, simply because I 
wanted them to). She would tilt her head back with an 
open mouth and I would cum all over her face. 
Afterwards, I would simmer in my post-orgasm flush 
while I watched her scoop my cum off of her face and 
swallow it all down.

My ejaculation has become a symbol, for me, of the 
power I have. There is nothing more full of the 
eroticism of dominance than watching my lovers struggle 
to swallow the incredible volume down, or watching it 
streak across their faces. My fluids, thick and sticky, 
in their mouths and bellies, on their faces and in 
their hair. 

Although I had never realized it until this moment, 
having my prepubescent daughter cleaning the residue 
off my crotch and scrubbing it out of the carpet had 
always held the same seductive feeling of sexual power. 
Now she would embark upon the next level of submission. 
If there had been any doubt in my mind it was now gone. 
She would be my sex slave as well as my maid and 
servant.

I moaned and reached one hand down to cup my baby’s 
face. I tilted it up towards me and leveled it in just 
the right place. "Hold still, baby," I said as I began 
to more aggressively bring myself towards climax. It 
wasn’t going to take long. The excitement had my toes 
tingling already. "Open your little mouth," I gasped, 
"open wider. I want you to catch as much as possible." 
She did as she was told. I erupted.

It was one of the best orgasms I’d ever had. My 
ejaculation of feminine fluids immediately hosed down 
her head and face. She jerked with surprise at the 
first one, but then did an amazingly good job of 
staying with it. Her eyes were tight against the threat 
of intrusion, and her mouth remained wide open. My cum 
roped into her hair, splattered atop her cheeks and 
forehead, glistened on her chin, and dripped in big 
droplets off her lips and into her mouth. 

My hips jerked forward almost like a man’s as shot 
after shot caught her face and mouth. By the time I was 
done, her entire face was wet with me and a thick pool 
of fluid rested inside her mouth. The sight of my seven 
year old daughter turned so thoroughly into a 
receptacle of my pleasure was almost overwhelmingly 
sexy.

"Swallow," I commanded. Her lips closed and I could 
actually hear the wet gulp of my sexual excretions 
running down her throat. I fought to avoid letting her 
know of my supreme satisfaction at the sound. She 
mustn’t begin to think I was easy to please as a sexual 
partner. "Continue," is all I said.

She began scooping great amounts of the juice into her 
mouth, swallowing eagerly (either earnestly or because 
it was how she had seen my lovers do it) every drop. I 
smiled as I stood before her small kneeling form, 
watching her consume my pussy juice. She never made a 
face, nor gave any indication that the flavor or 
texture was unwelcome. There was no evidence that the 
act disturbed or bothered her. She was going to make an 
excellent receptacle.

Afterwards, she dried me off and "thanked" me before 
scurrying from the room to prepare my midmorning snack: 
a glass of zinfandel and a movie from my enormous 
collection. It was already prepared by the time I sat 
down on the couch. 

***

That evening I had a pet over for playtime. I had 
planned on having Ed over, because I enjoyed the size 
of his genitals, but instead the fun with Jenna made me 
crave something else. I called Jonathan. We had a 
fantastic time. Jenna watched the entire thing (she 
knew she was not to leave the room during my 
couplings). I looked over at her several times, and I 
think she almost seemed humiliated. What a strange 
thing for her to feel. I smiled and pressed my ass 
harder against Jonathan’s face. 

When Jonathan came, I was still very wound up. I hadn’t 
climaxed, and recent events had my sex drive running at 
full tilt. I remembered now that Jonathan had been 
useless beyond his posterior pleasuring. After he had 
left, I sat back on the couch and beckoned Jenna over. 
"Daughter," I said, "I have not been pleasured and my 
pet is gone. Finish the job."

She looked torn by the idea. "Yes, mistress," she said 
as she knelt between my legs. I reached out and pulled 
her head into my crotch. She began working immediately, 
and after a time I began the very first of her many 
instructions in pleasing me. 

She learned quickly, from then on. She serviced me 
often, and was soon able to swallow my entire 
ejaculation like a good girl. She learned to rim and 
lick my ass, to keep from passing out while I sat atop 
her tiny face and rode myself upon her. She learned to 
swallow men’s cum when I wanted her to, and even to 
pleasure them the way she pleasured me. 

My good little girl had become the perfect slave well 
before her ninth birthday. Years later, she had a 
daughter of her own after I leant her to one of my male 
pets, and I decided to sell her to another domme and 
keep the child. The rush of the sexual dominance had 
diminished as she had aged, and this new young creature 
could be trained much earlier now that I knew what I 
wanted. 

END

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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is
meant as an erotic fantasy not real life. Anyone acting
out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to
many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a 
fellow convict in their local prison.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 39