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Buffy update
🕑 Added 2017-09-09 21:45:26 +0000 UTCJoyce smirked to herself as she watched the red light go out on the phone. So much for Willow listening. She hoped she’d enjoyed herself.
Joyce went back to stroke Buffy’s hair, both enjoying its softness and beaming with pride at the magnificent mane her daughter had cultivated. "I think we should call it 'Buffy's spanking rack'. It's appropriate. What do you think, Buffy?"
At the moment, Buffy was a little distracted by the satisfaction of Willow being cut off, purely by accident. And since her mom had done it, she’d get off scot-free. That was worth the small ache in her ass.
And now, they were alone. “Haha, spanking rank, that’s… that’s really funny, mom.” Buffy wet her lips with a quick motion of her lips. “Look, mom, I’ve gotta tell you the truth. I’m not really Willow’s slave. It was all a mistake. Yesterday I just wanted to do some magic with Willow, surprise her with a book I got from Giles, I had no idea—“
Buffy kept going. She hadn’t planned to relate it all in so much detail, but once she was able to admit what had happened, it was like she had to get all of it out as well. She told her mother everything, no matter how embarrassing. As much as her ears burned to cop to it, it felt better not to have it all knotted up inside her.
She was crying as she neared the finish. “And then she, uh, put her, uh, strap-on in my ass. Oh god, mom, it hurt. I had never anything in there before..."
Joyce gasped. “You mean you were an anal virgin?” She’d looked confused and then numb as Buffy explained everything, but now for the first time she looked incensed. Buffy guessed that it’d finally clicked how greviously Willow had wronged her little girl.
"Yes! It hurt so bad. And I couldn't make her stop. And then she did it, again and again. And it hurt like before"
“Hurt like before?” Joyce asked, circling around Buffy, staring at her ass. Buffy wondered if she could tell how tight her holes were, or weren’t, or were again now that they’d healed. “I asked Giles about the Slayer’s powers. He droned on and on about the regenerative rate of your tissue. I had no idea it applied to… that.”
“Yeah, mom, it’s fascinating,” Buffy snarked bitterly. “I just don’t want Willow to do it again!”
Joyce sat down convivially on the bed, lifting Buffy’s face with a finger under her chin. “I know you don’t, sweetie. Of course you don’t.” Joyce took a deep breath. "But honey, remember the summer when you ran away? I did ask Mr. Giles about magic, and do you know what he said? Sweetie, magic is all about the intent. Not about the words, those are just some nice extras. No, magic is all about what the caster means to happen. Do you understand me Buffy? Do you know what that means?"
Buffy’s mouth fell open as if trying to swallow the huge idea Joyce was feeding to her. "Y-you mean... I wanted to be a slave?” Her voice rose shrilly. “To have this happen?"
Joyce sidled closer to her on the mattress and took Buffy’s face in her hands. "Sweetie, calm down, be rational. You're a smart girl, aren't you?" Joyce used her thumbs to wiped away Buffy’s tears. "I don't think it was you consciously doing this. I think the spell picked up on your subconscious."
“I didn’t want her to fuck me in the ass, mom! I hated it!” Buffy fumed, stopped, thinking of how many times she’d gotten wet, how many times she’d climaxed, then suppressed it as hard as she could. She already felt like she’d halfway died of shame from confessing all this, but if Joyce knew that a part of her might’ve actually enjoyed it even one bit… “I hated it!”
Joyce squeezed her hands together on Buffy’s cheeks, drawing her attention as she spoke firmly and decisively. "Aren't you tired of being the Slayer? One girl in the world. Being top dog. Always the one to make the difficult decisions. Don't you long to be free of the responsibility of your calling? Imagine shaking off the crushing weight of that destiny. This is your opportunity. Don't you want to be normal? What's more normal… more down-to-earth, more free of responsibility… than a slave?"
Buffy mulled it over as if she were chewing something bitter, the muscles of her jaw actually working along her clenched teeth. "But Willow said it was a sex slave spell..."
"Forget Willow, honey. I know you think highly of your friend, but Willow doesn't know everything. As long as we don't have the book, we can't say for sure."
Buffy loosened her jaw enough to take a slow breath, feeling somewhat mollified, but really confused. What her mom was saying did make a lot of sense. So she wasn't mistaken at all. Willow was the stupid one, not her.
A slight grin passed over Buffy's face. Maybe she wasn’t an honor student or anything, but at least she hadn’t fucked up a spell and made someone a damn sex slave!
"B-but if I... uh... my... uh... some part of my brain wanted to be a slave... why didn't I like it? I don't like girls, uh, that way" Buffy asked her mother.
Joyce smiled to see Buffy loosening up and winding down from the mixed up, neurotic mess she’d been just a few minutes before. "I think Willow was a bad choice as your 'Mistress'. That girl just pushed too far, too soon. She's got no experience." Joyce eyes twinkled. "In fact, Buffy, why don't you let me help you?”
"M-mom?"
Joyce chuckled. She spoke as if she were reciting a long list of facts, like a history lesson. "Oh, Buffy. You might think me old, an old prude. But then I'm only forty-three years old. Back when I was in college, I was quite active in the 'scene'. That's code for dominant and submissive play, by the way. I have ample experience as a dominant, you are a slave. So what do we make of that? I know you are a smart girl, Buffy. You can figure it out."
Buffy was struck speechless. Her own mom had played these 'kind of games'? She tried to picture Joyce doing even half of what Willow had done—or more, if Willow was truly so inexperienced. Could Joyce have worn a leather corset, pranced around with a riding crop, tied people to saw-horses and done Spike only knew what with them? Why would she lie, though? And if she was such a veteran dominatrix, then wasn’t it possible she knew how to really dominate someone, the right way, not Willow’s way? Couldn’t it be she knew how to bring someone the pleasure that Buffy had felt, only fleetingly at Willow’s inept hands, but there nonetheless in all the humiliation and degradation Willow had also caused her.
Buffy licked her lips, almost afraid to look at Joyce’s gentle face for fear it might sway her. "You mean... you can help... uh... help me be a slave?!"
Joyce nodded.
It made a kind of sense. So what if she was right? This was Joyce, her mom, she could trust her. And even in this short span of time, she had told her more than Willow had, explained to her things instead of just browbeating her into compliance and expecting Buffy to enjoy her. Could this at least be worth a shot?
"I think I'd like that," she said. Anything had to be better than staying with Willow. At least as Joyce’s slave, there wouldn’t be anything sexual going on. Just the discipline that everyone seemed to agree she needed so desperately.
Joyce smiled and pinched Buffy’s nose for a wiggle before turning serious. "Understand this, Buffy, if we do this, I won't just be your mom, I'll be your owner. I'll train you, teach you the ins and outs of being a slave girl. I promise you, once I'm done, you'll be the perfect slave."
Buffy could barely listen as Joyce stroked her hair comfortingly. It felt so good. She could relax now and just let her mother own her. But she guessed being a good slave meant paying attention. She tried hard not to just collapse in relief at finally having a proper owner.
"I'll do it my way,” Joyce continued, “the mom way. Forget Willow. I'll help you get rid of Willow. I don't think she's fit to own a slave girl like you. From what you told me it's clear she lacks the experience. But I think we'll have to handle Willow carefully. Give me some time to come up with a plan. Until then, you need to play along. I'll try to run some interference."
Buffy almost cooed. Yes. Let Joyce handle Willow. Even the prospect of having Willow manhandle her some more was tolerable, so long as she knew that Joyce would eventually find a way to free her forever. After all, if there was one thing she’d proven so far, it was that she could take what Willow dished out.
Joyce softened her voice even more. "So, Buffy. Are you okay with me being your owner? Do you want to be owned by me, your mom?"
Buffy still shook a little at the thought of being owned, but if it meant she had her mom’s help, she could bear anything. “Yes, mom. You’re the best.” Trusting in the gentle smile Joyce favored her with, Buffy said “Mom, I want you to be m-my o-owner.”
As soon as Buffy said the words, a small ring shimmered into existence on Joyce’s middle finger. Though both women were startled, Buffy’s eyes truly widened in shock. It was almost exactly the same as Willow’s pendant. She truly had accepted Joyce as her owner.
While she kept talking, Joyce spoke. “See, Buffy? It’s like I told you. Magic is all about intent. Now, let’s try it out.”
She concentrated, and Buffy almost couldn’t believe how quickly she was processing all of this. It seemed like she herself still couldn’t believe all that had happened. But then, she hadn’t really been able to rest since all this had started. Joyce’s nimble mind was well-rested—it occurred to Buffy that she might actually be lucky to have someone like that, clear-headed and coolly logical, serving as her mistress.
“Hmm,” Joyce said. “Nothing. Perhaps…”
She put her jeweled hand on Buffy’s back. Now the small stone in the ring lit up. Buffy’s severe posture collar lost much of its width. Now Buffy could move her head.
Joyce sighed as if she’d just heavily exerted herself. “More difficult than I thought it would be. I guess what Willow lacks in bondage skills, she makes up for in magic.”
Joyce took Buffy by the chin and gently guided her head into the position she wanted for her daughter. Soon Buffy was looking to the bed's front, where her pillows laid. If she'd be standing she'd be looking upwards. Now her chin rested on the mattress. Willow had been crude and cruel enough to use the posture collar to hold her in such a position, but Buffy felt a sick pride at being trusted with holding herself in such a pose.
Joyce clapped her hands. “Now stay like this, Buffy. I’ll be right back.”
Buffy snorted. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” To emphasize her point, she gave a little wiggle in her bonds. As fascinating as Buffy was sure her Muggle mom was finding all this, it would be nice if she’d cut her loose. Although much of her weight rested on the horizontal bar, and the chains keeping her legs in position helped too, standing on her tippy toes was getting tiresome.
Idly, she wondered what exactly they were doing. Was Joyce training her to better withstand the next torture session Willow put her through? She didn’t think any practice could possibly prepare to the real thing. Buffy’s years of slaying and its assorted aches and pains hadn’t prepared her for anything Willow had put her through.
Soon Joyce was back in Buffy's room, her arms full. Whatever she was carrying, she let it clatter onto Buffy's desk. Buffy twitched in her bonds at the loud noises. Whatever nerves of steel she’d once had, her time with Willow had stripped them like lead wiring. She’d have to be much better-rested before she was up for spouting puns again.
“Okay, Buffy,” Joyce said. “We’ve got a bottle of lube, one of my favorite dildos, and the Polaroid camera I know you remember.”
“What?” Buffy asked, but the only answered Joyce gave her was to run her hands over Buffy’s sex, as if testing the responsiveness of her pudenta. They quivered at the touch, tingling with every bracing sweep up and down Buffy’s labia. “Mom! What are you doing?”
"Hush Buffy. Just trust me. You'll see." Joyce answered. She gently parted Buffy’s asscheeks, her fingers rubbing sensually inward along the valley of Buffy’s buttocks, toward the wrinkled entrance to her anus. “It looks so tight… completely unused.”
Buffy froze up as she felt her mother’s fingers circle her anus, tracing the taut kinks of its rosy pinkness with slow, languid fingertips. It felt both pleasingly intimate and shockingly uncomfortable, but Joyce was doing it so slowly and carefully that the excitement of Buffy’s clenching anus almost overrode her senses.
"Uh... mom? could you please stop this?"
"Buffy, did Willow really fuck your ass? This certainly doesn't look like it. It looks, and feels, almost unused. Why is that?" Joyce asked.
Buffy knew the answer, of course. Willow had gone on and on about how being the Slayer meant she would always have a virginally tight asshole, if given time to heal. But it was just too shameful to tell her mother. The thing with Willow had been an accident, something that happened to her, but this freaky aspect of her power was something she’d been born with. It was like Buffy had been created to be some sex toy. So she didn’t say anything.
Releasing Buffy’s ass, Joyce aimed the Polaroid at Buffy’s exposed anus and snapped a picture. The flash and whirr of a developing photo should’ve been a shock to Buffy, but mostly it came as a relief that Joyce had stopped touching her ass. She didn’t care if one of her superpowers was being the best bottom in the game, she never wanted to have anal sex again.
Joyce placed the two photos on the mattress, to either side of Buffy’s head. Then she moved to sit down against the headboard.
It was now that Buffy noticed her mother was naked. And she didn't look anything like the woman who had raised Buffy. What had she done with her hair? Was it always that golden and silky? And her mouth, once prissy and tight, was now open and sensuous. And her body… Joyce was so fit, her body was practically as pert and tight as Buffy’s was.
Joyce put a pillow behind her bare back for comfort, then spread her legs, giving Buffy a good look at her womanhood. She even wiggled her ass forward, positioning her naked lap right in front of Buffy’s appropriately horrified expression.
More than the fact that this was her mother, Buffy couldn’t stop remembering how she’d been forced to lick Willow’s pussy as she posed just like this, with Buffy chained up just as she was now. She tried to move away, but the chains stopped her.
“Mom, what are you doing? Why are you naked? You’re not—you’re not going to make me eat you out, are you?”
“Of course not, Buffy. You’re not trusting me. I know what I’m doing.” Joyce leaned in to pick up the close-up Polaroid of Buffy’s sex and regard it. “I didn’t raise you to be so ashamed and embarrassed of a little nudity. You certainly weren’t so squeamish when you went out with Angel. Why be a prude now?”
She held the Polaroid over her own sex, as if teasing Buffy with the ‘censorship.’ “Look at it, Buffy. Doesn’t your cunt look beautiful? Shouldn’t you be proud of it? And my cunt—it’s beautiful too. I’m not ashamed of it. I’m not ashamed to call it what it is, either. A cunt. I have one and so do you. I want you to see the beauty in that, not like Willow. Now…” She moved the Polaroid aside, holding it against her inner thigh. “Look at my cunt, Buffy. The cunt that birthed you. Tell me some of the differences between your cunt and my cunt.”
It was as counterintuitive as looking into the sun, but Buffy gave into her mother’s sweet, imploring voice and looked. The Polaroid, had first glance, had seemed shockingly explicit, but she tried to take pride in it. It wasn’t weird or funny-looking or anything. It had given her a lot of pleasure over the years. And her mother’s was no slouch.
She had a little fuzz on the pink lips of her cunt, but it was nothing compared to the hair on her mother’s cunt. Joyce had a thick, dark-blonde bush of curly hair, shaped like a fan, with pink lips that were glistening with wetness. And unlike the petite rosebud of her own clitoris, she could see Joyce’s clit standing up in a hard knot, as if inherently proud. She could only imagine the pleasure it gave Joyce.
She told Joyce so, all in a rush, barely stopping to think of what she was saying or how she was comparing them. It seemed to satisfy Joyce. She put the picture of Buffy’s pussy away. Then she began to pet her pubic hairs, running her fingers through the carpet as intimately and as joyfully as she had stroked the hair on Buffy’s head.
“I don’t want this to give you a bad impression of sex, Buffy. Look at you. Already, you’re letting what Willow’s done deprieve you of the pleasure that’s your birthright. I’m not going to let that happen. I’m going to educate you on the sexual pleasures of life. Now, Buffy—do you masturbate?”
“Yes,” Buffy said, in a clipped rush. It was more like a sigh than a word; she hated admitting it.
“Does it feel good?”
“I guess—“ How was it supposed to feel? It didn’t feel like what Willow had done to her, that was for sure—for good or ill, they were two different species.
“I want to test your knowledge, Buffy. I want you to look and describe every movement of my fingers. Just look at my cunt and tell me what you see.”
Joyce placed both of her pillows on top of one another and punched the top one with a tiny fist to make an indentation for the back of her head. She stretched her legs out in front of her at first, keeping the knees straight, trying to decide what to do first.
Joyce knew that her orgasm would be made better if she went about it slowly. She wanted to set a good example for Buffy. One of the most important things a girl could learn was that that patience was the key to giving herself a good come, even if it meant being a bit of a tease—to herself or to others.
Joyce could feel the tension in her lower abdomen getting worse by the second, and she hadn’t even begun to touch herself. She watched her fingertips shaking nervously as she placed them on her nipples. She shivered and moaned. It felt even better than Joyce had thought it would, doing it in front of her daughter, and she rolled her fingertips over her erections lovingly.
The matronly woman could feel her nipples getting even harder and longer as she touched them. Joyce could feel her juice forming in a pool at the base of her opening, preparing to spread outward like rising waters in a flood. The split of her ass would be lubricated just as well as her cunt before she was done making herself come.
She knew that she would be making a wet spot with that natural lubrication on her bedspread and the bedding would have to be washed. But she was all sweaty anyway, and Buffy would be too, so cleaning up would have been necessary if she had jilled off or not.
The little blonde placed her thumbs and forefingers on either side of her nipples and pinched at them lightly. This felt very good and soon she was pinching harder, until she felt an odd combination of pleasure and pain. She hoped Buffy noted the strange association between pleasure and pain during moments of sexual arousal. There was nothing wrong with it. In fact, it was an important aspect of taking those ten-inch dicks so many girls callously fantasized about… or the twelve-inch strap-on Joyce had under her bed.
Buffy probably knew that the muscles of her cunt would have to stretch grossly open just to get the beginnings of a well-sized penetration going in the mouth of her passage. She probably had no idea how much her cunt could stretch, for all Willow had put her through.
Joyce began to tug at her nipples until the flesh of her cleavage was pulled taut. She could feel her heart begin to race, pounding audibly as her chest heaved. She made her tits appear pointy by pulling at her nipples. It was increasingly difficult for her to breathe normally. No matter how hard she tried she could no longer fill her lungs completely with air. Her arousal was forcing her to take short rapid breaths.
In a realization of pride, Joyce realized that she was panting—just like a wild animal as it too was mated.
The woman released her nipples and allowed them to snap back into position. Buffy’s eyes—filled with awe—were open so wide at that moment that the whites were visible all the way around the blue pupils.
They shied away now, the shock finally hitting as Buffy realized her mother really was masturbating in front of her. “I know all about this. You don’t have to show me.”
“But I want to,” Joyce said. Her voice was trembling with lust, and the very breathiness of it sent a sharp jag of… something through Buffy. She hadn’t realized how turned on her mom was.
Joyce opened her fingers and stretched them apart as far as she could. She placed her palms so that the nipples were pressed against their centers. She clutched her tits and pressed them together—making her cleavage longer and deeper than it had ever been.
She moaned deeply.
Her cunt moistened.
Her clit quivered.
Her eyes closed, her long curled lashes pressed against her high rosy cheekbones.
“You’re playing with your nipples,” Buffy said, mindful of the orders her mom—her mistress—had given her. After how shamelessly she’d obeyed Willow, she felt just a little obligated to be as respectful to her mother. Even if she was blushing like Chernobyl. “You’re squeezing your boobs, too.”
“Do you go straight to your cunt, Buffy?” Joyce asked her. “That can be… such a missed opportunity.”
But, truthfully, it only made the craving below get worse—to the point where her willpower ran out.
Joyce knew that she would have to leave her breasts alone for awhile. There were parts of her body that needed to be stroked more desperately. She rolled her fingertips slowly down the flat plain of her belly, which moved up and down with her gasping.
Joyce had a tiny nose that turned up a little at the end. She had a cute little button nose, which enhanced her innocent appearance. At that moment her nostrils were flaring very wide, as she was picking up a scent.
This was the smell of her own womanhood. The scent of her pussy. The musky odor of her swollen cunt! She could hear herself making tiny gurgling noises deep in her throat as she traced a circle around her dimpled bellybutton with the tip of the long fingernail at the tip of her right forefinger. She dipped the nail into her navel and let out a surprisingly sharp grunt of physical joy.
The scent of her pussy worked as a catalyst for her horniness. Joyce placed the balls of her feet flat on the crumbled bedspread. The bed was already very damp from the hot perspiration of exertion that oozed from both of them, mother and daughter.
Joyce could feel the muscles in her thighs tensing, and she began to open and close her knees rapidly as if she were trying to fan the fire in her cunt. She clutched at the bedspread with her tiny toes. Joyce stretched her thighs apart as far as she could get them. She pointed her knees at opposite walls of her bedroom.
The walls of her room were covered with, naturally, photos of Buffy as she’d grown up.
Joyce began to stroke the insides of her own thighs. Her moans of pleasure became steadily louder and higher in pitch. The mother placed the tips of her long unpolished fingernails way up near her breasts and stroked downward toward her crotch.
She stopped just shy of touching the outer lips of her cunt, which, of course, was where she needed the stroking most severely. Joyce could feel her toes turning white from clutching at the balls of her feet so tightly. She lifted her feet off of the bed and drew back her knees so that they were very close to her chest. She placed her weight on her shoulders and the back of her head—rolling on the small of her back.
In this manner, Joyce rolled her sweet little buttocks off of the bed so she could get at them with her fingers. Joyce switched her caress to the backs of her thighs, and then down onto the cheeks of her round tiny ass. This felt a hell of a lot better than she’d ever expected, and she once again made a gurgling noise deep in her throat.
Her clit was so swollen, and was throbbing so hard, she thought it would pop right out of her pussy. She could feel the tension in her lower belly reaching the saturation point. She wondered how severe that tension could get before her panging orgasm reached the point of inevitability.
She could feel her sexual desire running below her pussy—into the moist crack of her tiny ass. Joyce scratched lightly at her buttocks for a moment, still writhing violently, and then increased the pressure.
Soon she was scratching at the backs of her thighs and the cheeks of her ass so hard she was making red streaks in the flesh. Joyce turned her fingers inward and worked the depths along the flesh toward the crack—a little at a time. She pressed her fingertips into the flesh hard enough to make the buttocks dimple, and let out a sharp grunt.
“You’re clawing at yourself… oh my God, mom… you’re breaking the skin!”
“Not quite,” Joyce said. “You shouldn’t worry so much. It’s better when someone else does this—like being tickled—but when you’re really in the mood…!”
The pretty blonde then began to pull the cheeks of her butt — very slowly and patiently.
She did not stop separating those cheeks until the skin in the crack was as tight as it could possibly go.
Joyce could feel some of the puckers in her asshole being smoothed by the pressure and her lips pulled back tightly over her teeth in a grimace. She held her ass cheeks all the way apart with exclusively her left hand so she could use the middle finger on her right to explore the moist tissues in between.
She touched herself at the top of the crack of her ass—near the small of her back—which was very close to the bed as she rolled backward into a ball, her knees still as far apart as she could get them.
She drew the finger a fraction of an inch at a time toward her anus—which had already begun to burn with anticipation. Joyce could feel her sexual desire filling the opening to her rectum, almost stretching it.
The asshole was tingling madly with an urge to be stroked. She could feel an ache deep inside her bowels also at that moment. Both sensations grew as her finger approached the opening. The tight orifice was spreading—and closing, winking.
“You’re… mom, are you going to touch yourself… touch yourself in the ass? I thought that was just… if a guy really wanted to, you might suffer through it for his sake, but if it’s just for me—“
“It’s not just for me, Buffy. It’s for you too,” Joyce said piously. “You deserve to know how good sodomy can feel. Just look at me, Buffy. Do I look like I’m in pain? Wait, scratch that—do I look like I’m not enjoying myself?”
Joyce could feel her whole body stiffen as her fingertip made contact with the membrane. As she massaged her own asshole she was only an inch away from the base of her swollen pussy. Joyce hoped Buffy was wondering how elastic the flesh of her own asshole and cunt was. She hoped Buffy wanted to know how much she could take.
The huge objects that might fit inside her holes.
Joyce rubbed her fingertip in a tiny circle, tracing the tight ring of muscle at her horny rectum. There was certainly no denying—especially not to her daughter—that the desire in her anus and bowels existed.
She had a great desire to stick her finger all the way up herself, as so she could know the thrill of penetration. But Joyce was afraid to do this, fearing that she could hurt herself internally with her long fingernail. Fortunately, she had brought more than the camera with her to Buffy’s room.
Picking up a tiny plastic jar of petroleum jelly and a long, slender dildo, Joyce scooped some of the jelly out of the jar on her fingertip. She pulled her cheeks apart with her other hand.
She dabbed a plentiful amount of the lubricant on her anus. She then smeared the stuff over the wide ball of the dildo’s tip. Joyce wasted no time placing the tip against her asshole. Her desire to be deeply violated and reamed was greater than ever.
She pushed hard and concentrated on relaxing her sphincter muscle. The pressure increased for a long time before the hole began to open to let the dildo up her ass. And when the violation did begin, it all happened very quickly, making Joyce gasp for breath at the shock to her system.
“You’re fucking yourself, mom. You’re fucking your own ass! Just like a boy would—“
“Believe me, Buffy, it takes more practice than you’d think to fuck yourself ‘just like a boy would’.” Joyce winked.
Joyce felt her asshole opening until the flesh was taut. There was pain. But Joyce had never minded the pain. It was an intrinsically sexual pain, and it only enhanced her craving for fulfillment deep inside her.
Her face contorted badly with the combination of pleasure and pain she was experiencing with this intrusion. Her eyes closed so tightly that the lids were wrinkled—and little lines had formed at their corners. Buffy stared at them, wondering if they were a sign of extreme pain, or pleasure.
Her face was very flushed with her exertion and her sexual arousal. Joyce had become as red as a fire engine. She could feel a vein at her right temple very close to the surface become engorged and throb hard. This vein was clearly visible; Buffy could see it, and wondered if she had looked like that when Willow had violated her.
Once the greased tip of the dildo cleared the sphincter muscle, the penetration became swift. Joyce pushed the fake cock into her butt until there was less than an inch protruding from her asshole.
The anus was gaping open, stretched taut, and was struggling hard to grip snugly at the base of the dildo. She left just enough sticking out of her asshole for her to grip the base firmly with arched fingertips. Joyce still had to concentrate to arch her fingers when she held on to things, so her fingernails wouldn’t get in the way.
Joyce began to work the fake cock in and out of her asshole slowly, pulling it almost all the way out before thrusting it back inside. Her cheeks puffed out as she gasped and her lips blustered noisily with the self-pleasure she received.
But the focus of her anal desire was in a spot so deep inside her bowels that the fake cock could not reach it. She knew that she would need something longer and thicker than what she had to appease those urges. It had always been so. But she hadn’t wanted to scare Buffy. Not at first.
The reaming she gave herself made the tension in her cunt only worse and she knew that it was time to get to the meat and potatoes of it all. It was time to make herself orgasm blissfully. Joyce could tell that the joy she was about to give herself was going to be ten thousand times better than anything she had previously known.
Joyce pulled the dildo out of her butt slowly, not wanting to make her sphincter muscle slam shut. She set the greasy dildo on the bedspread, not worrying about making a mess as she had already decided that she would have to wash the bedding when she was done anyway.
She wanted to show Buffy that it was okay when sex was messy. That was why so many lovers showered together. It was to get clean.
Joyce placed her fingertips at the outer lips of her cunt and pulled them apart until she could stretch the flesh no further. She could feel the many folds of flesh inside her pink cunt being separated, along with her inner pussy lips.
“You’re opening yourself up, mom. Mom, I can see all of your—“
“Not bad for an old woman pussy, is it? Every cunt looks better when it’s wet, Buffy. Just so you know.”
Joyce’s clit was throbbing severely, and she wondered if it were possible to make herself come without actually touching the clit. She had the feeling that the massive explosions inside her pussy were going to start the second she touched that button.
Joyce placed the tip of her right forefinger at the base of her wet slit. She touched the spot where her natural lubrication had gathered the thickest, making her fingertip slippery. The musky scent from her pussy was stronger than ever.
Her nostrils continued to flare as she sucked the odor in.
She ran her fingertip ever-so-slowly up and down the pulled back outer lips, stretching the fingers on her left hand to keep the flesh gaping. She was careful not to touch the clit itself, but she did allow herself to caress the sheath at the sides and above that spasming love button. This made her let out a sharp cry of pleasure, and her hips bucked wildly upward from her savage sexual joy.
“You’re going to touch your clit! Mom, you’re going to touch your clit!”
“I know, dear. When I’m ready.”
“But isn’t that the best part?”
“It’s more like the last part, sweetie.” Joyce was surprised by how jagged her voice had become. Then again, this was the first time she’d tried to carry on a conversation in this particular position. “There’s a lot of fun to be had on the way there. You shouldn’t just slam your hand on the buzzer as soon as it lights up, like you’re on a game show. You have to be—mmmm—patient.”
She flicked her fingertip lightly up and down the curled back inner labia and shuddered violently. She tried very hard to keep her hips still, but this only made her writhe more, and soon she was bouncing up and down on the bed so hard that she could hear the bedsprings creaking beneath her.
Joyce worked the tip of her finger in between those inner lips, near the base of the swollen slit.
She knew that her finger was at the mouth of her cunt hole, the mouth of her fuck hole, the mouth of her very womanhood.
Her body was more drenched with sweat than ever and she could tell that she was going to be exhausted by the time she finally allowed herself the sexual release that she needed so badly.
Joyce pressed her fingertip inside her cunt. When she had violated her cunt as much as she wanted, she pulled her finger out from between her inner labia.
“Your finger’s in your pussy, mom. You’re fucking yourself.”
“Oh no, dear. I haven’t even started to fuck myself yet.”
She placed the tip of her left forefinger at the top of her slit. She touched herself between her cut and the base of her pubic bone. She could still feel a slight burning in her asshole, but she kind of liked the way it felt and hoped that the sensation took a long time to fade away. Her eyes were still closed as tightly as they could go.
Joyce’s back teeth were clenched so tightly that the muscles at the sides of her face were protruding, and her jaw started to ache. But this discomfort was next to nothing compared to the sexual tension she felt filling her from the toes up.
She pulled up with her fingertip, thus pulling the semi-circle of flesh completely away from her love button. Joyce’s throbbing little clit was completely exposed and available to her caress. Joyce took a deep breath, since she knew instinctively that she would not be able to breathe during her first come.
“Now what am I doing, Buffy?”
“You’re making yourself come, mom.”
“Very good.”
She then dabbed at her clit with her forefinger, pulling the finger away almost before the contact was made.
Every time she caressed the clit—even though caresses were only thousandths of a second long—Joyce felt as if great jolts of electricity were being sent through her body. Joyce actually felt as if there were hot electrodes connected to her nipples and her clit shocking her. She wanted to see just how long she could keep herself on the brink of orgasm without tipping herself over the edge.
All of this seemed to Joyce like it was taking a lot longer than it really did, as her sexual arousal had altered her sense of time and space. It was only seconds before she could not take her own frustration anymore and placed her fingertip on her little clit—this time leaving it there.
She began to roll her clitoris in a small circle, moving it like a marble rolling in boiling oil.
Then it happened! She came with the power of a nuclear blast.
All of a sudden the massive explosions inside her began.
A little spurt of juice sprayed from her.
The pleasure spread in slow concentric circles until it filled her pussy, and then her hips. She bounced up and down on the bed on her ass so hard that her left leg fell off the side of the bed and began to kick in the air with the tiny toes clutched tightly under.
Her back teeth not only came unclenched as she climaxed, but her mouth fell gaping open. The corners of her mouth were stretched taut.
Her jaw threatened to lock there in the open position.
“AAARRRGGGHHH!!!” Joyce called out, completely unintentionally showing Buffy the force of her climax. Joyce was not at all sure that she should have kept quiet during her orgasm even if she had wanted to.
She could feel the physical pleasure rolling like a clap of thunder up her arched spine to the base of her skull. She could feel the fiery pleasure clustering like a comet at the nape of her neck before entering her brain.
Joyce could feel the bed begin to spin around, and she wondered if it were possible to lose consciousness from pure pleasure. She could see little sparks flying across the darkness of the insides of her tightly clenched and wrinkled eyelids.
She felt as if her bed had left the floor. It felt as if it were spiraling upward toward the ceiling of her bedroom.
Joyce started out touching her clit very gently, and moving it very slowly, as even the gentlest caress put a serious trauma into her aroused nervous system. But she quickly became accustomed to the new plateau of sensation and increased the pressure and speed of her clitoral massage.
She began to flick her clitoris back and forth with her fingertip as the physical joy again exploded into her brain. She couldn’t believe how much juice was squirting out of her cunt. Her pussy felt as if it could open to take a tree trunk inside. She was sure that she could take any sized cock up that tiny cunt as long as she was horny enough.
Buffy let out a cry as the first of Joyce’s ejaculate stung across her nipples. Joyce moaned happily as she felt the stream become stronger. She could feel the spattering warm droplets of her orgasm ricocheting off her calves and thighs. If her eyes were open, she would’ve seen her juices slathering all over her daughter’s face, dribbling down her chin, then pooling in her navel.
The distinct aroma of pussy filled her nostrils as she moved forward, directing the stream against Buffy's face, then slid back to send a shower into the girl's cunt. Buffy heaved and gagged, trying to clap one hand over her mouth to keep from vomiting. When Joyce ran dry, Buffy turned her head and gasped for air, her body slicked with the awful-smelling fluid.
Joyce continued to flick her finger across her love button until she was sure that her orgasm was over. Her muscles were so tensed, and she was trembling so furiously, that she feared she would hurt herself.
But then all of her muscles relaxed at the same time and she collapsed on the bed. She could feel the ecstasy of her come being replaced by the warm contentment of her afterglow. She found that she was able to breathe again, and completely filled her lungs with air the second that she was physically capable.
Joyce could hear her racing heartbeat slowly returning to normal, and her hot sweat began to cool. She finally opened her eyes and realized that she had to blink a couple of times before she could see clearly. This was because her eyes had welled slightly with tears during her orgasm. They were tears of joy.
It took her a few minutes to compose herself. Her hand was still resting on the soaking wet delta between her legs. She felt as if she could drift off into a marvelous sleep. Joyce pulled her wet hand away from her cunt and raised it to her face. She could see in the sunlight shining through the window how wet and shiny her masturbating fingers had become.
She pressed her fingers together for a second and then opened them wide, making her natural lubrication form thin suspension bridges between her knuckles. She was amazed at how out-of-control her thoughts had become during her long moments of acute lust.
It was then she became aware that her daughter was crying.
“Mommy!” Buffy sobbed, weeping into the mattress. “It’s just like Willow! You came all over me!”
“Oh, sweetie? I thought you wouldn’t—oh, how embarrassing.” Joyce got up to kneel next to Buffy, stroking her hand through her hair and down her back. “I’m sorry. It’s such a basic thing for a bottom to let her mistress come on her. I thought—just from bringing the subject up—that you’d like it… it’s alright, Buffy. Calm down. I’ve got you.”
Buffy calmed quickly. Perhaps Joyce’s words of comfort were that effective, or perhaps it took her that short a time to decide that a faceful of cum wasn’t such a big deal after all she’d been through. She still miserably accosted Joyce, with a wibble in her voice and a pout on her lips. “You shot your cum in my face, mom. Why’d you do that?”
Joyce took a deep breath. “Honey, I’m sorry to say this just proves your inexperience. Even with the rare bottom who doesn’t like having cum on her face… well, I can’t control my orgasm. That’s part of why I told you to pay attention, so you’d know enough to get out of the way when I came.”
“But you… I… I’m all chained up, mom!”
“Yes, Buffy, so you at least could’ve said that you didn’t want me to come on you. Or don’t you feel like I was paying you enough attention?”
“I didn’t know you were going to squirt like that!”
“You don’t?” Joyce picked up a hankerchief—another useful item she’d squirreled into Buffy’s room—and began wiping Buffy’s eyes and lips clean. “Buffy, surely you’ve realized that you yourself come buckets. All us Summers women do. If you weren’t smart enough to know that I would come just as hard as you would… or, even worse, if you don’t know that you yourself squirt… well, baby, then that’s all the more I have to teach you.”
“Oh,” Buffy said quietly. She’d had no idea she was so inexperienced—no, so foolish. She felt a trickle of Joyce’s cum run down her cheek. “Mom, you missed a spot.”
“No, I think the rest can stay where it is,” Joyce said, smoothing a lock of Buffy’s hair that had taken some unorthodox ‘shampoo.’ “Let it be a lesson to you, Buffy. If you don’t pay attention, you won’t learn anything. Now, we have one photo left…”
Joyce got up and moved in front of Buffy, facing away from her. Her ass drew the eye. It was small and petite, much like Buffy’s own, only a little chubbier. Though it hadn’t been flat to begin with, a pronounced bulge tapering out from the small of Joyce’s taut back, becoming the swell of her buttocks even as they arched back down into the muscles of her thighs, with only the slightest hint of aging sag or motherhood’s droop. The crevice between the cheeks of her ever-so-slightly plump white ass looked dark and inviting, wonderfully exciting, and Joyce spread them apart quickly, letting Buffy marvel at the sight of her dark brown puckered hole. It was creased and folded with swirls and corrugated lines. Buffy knew, both from unpleasant experience and from Joyce holding a Polaroid picture in one of the hands opening up her asscheeks, what her own looked like. It was even more petite and smart than her buttocks was to begin with, like a rose that had only begun to bloom.
But Joyce’s looked like a dusky jewel, swollen and fiery from the attention it had received, almost like a man’s organ would plump with lust if it were stroked and pleasured. Buffy could tell that this asshole was one that was fucked.
“Mom,” Buffy said, “have you… have you been done in the ass?”
“Have I been fucked there, you mean?” Joyce chortled. “Yes, that is one similarity between our two ‘shames.’ Not that you’d know it from looking at us. I have something of a gape, don’t I Buffy? I’m afraid that’s something you may not ever get to enjoy. Of course, that has its own compensations.”
“Your asshole doesn’t heal,” Buffy said, “and mine does.”
“Don’t you worry, dear, my asshole will tighten up somewhat. Believe me, it’s had far more than the little wand I just gave it, and if you’d seen if then, you wouldn’t think I’d be seeing down ever again. But mine is never quite the same after each… accommodation. I think yours may be. You should be proud of having an asshole that will look… and feel… that tight forever. I can just tell your holes will make any owner you have very happy.”
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BillyBatson
Dang buffy marathon
