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Despite her protests, she was much more amenable this time. A bit of hesitancy at first, but once she got used to the difference in taste she dove right back in to eating me again. I could have easily just let myself float on the enjoyment of what she was doing to me, but I made a special effort to be vocal for her, to moan and gasp, making sure she knew she was doing a good job. I knew how much Daddy liked that sort of thing when he was fucking me, and I figured it was probably even more important for Mom. I got there quicker this time, I think because it just felt so naughty to be feeding Mommy Brucie's cum instead of Daddy's. I totally rubbed my pussy all over her face when I came, too—not because I was trying to this time, just because it felt so good I couldn't stop myself from bucking my hips! Daddy gave me one last kiss on my lips, then got out of my way so I could slide myself down and lay on top of her.

Something was wrong. I struggled to open my eyes, blearily forcing myself to focus. I was in a red-panelled room, dimly lit, one I'd never been in before, with... things, on the walls. Whips, floggers, toys of all descr*ptions, most of which I couldn't even name. It was only then that I realized I was naked, bound on my back to a table with my legs spread into a slight V in the air, wrists above my head, a belt around my waist holding me down. I lifted my head, and saw that my six-inch dick was hard and straining, twitching without my command. Why the fuck was I hard? Arousal was the last thing I was feeling! Confusion, fear, panic, yes. But not arousal.