“Excuse me?” I asked, not liking the tone of my son’s girlfriend.

“Don’t you recycle your cans?” She asked, her tone implying she was disgusted by me.

I had only met her twice before and had instantly disliked her. My son, Trevor, had been dating her for a couple of weeks, and just the way she had him so wrapped around her finger annoyed me. She also dressed slutty in tight blouses that didn’t even attempt to hide her big breasts, short, tight skirts that advertised her ass, thigh high stockings that were obvious to see when she was sitting because of her short skirt, and four inch heels. She dripped sex and it was obvious she was using it to get my son to do her bidding.

“I guess not,” I answered, my tone terse and my glare daring her to push me.

Yet, she did, as she said, “You should always recycle, Tiffany.”

“It’s, Mrs. Woods,” I corrected, shocked by her gall to dare speak to me so informally.

Not correcting her disrespect, she dismissed my concern instead, and repeated, “Either way, you really should recycle.”

“I’ll keep your two cents in mind,” I quipped, trying to make it clear her opinion wasn’t worth anything to me.

She said, “Trevor, let’s go.”

“Okay,” Trevor nodded, like an obedient love sick puppy.

Deciding to show the bitch who was in charge, I said, “Trevor, actually I need you to stay home tonight and help me with a couple things.”

“Like what?” He asked.

“Just do as you’re told, young man,” I firmly ordered, my glare and tone always enough to get him to do what I wanted.

She piped in, “We are going to a movie tonight.”

“Good for you,” I replied sarcastically. “I am sure you can go to the movie with someone else.”

“I suppose I can,” she shrugged, while she glanced over at Trevor, giving him a look.

A strange look of fear hit him as he said, “Mom, I have plans with Quinn tonight.”

“Well, now you have plans with me,” I corrected, not used to Trevor standing up to me. I instantly realized why I disliked Quinn so much…she was a younger version of me.

Quinn rose as Trevor stood up to me, “Sorry, Mom, I’m going out with Quinn tonight. I can help you when I get home or on the weekend.”

“Fine,” I said, seething, when of course it wasn’t remotely fine.

Quinn smiling smugly from ear to ear, “Have a good evening, Mrs. Woods.”

I didn’t respond as I walked out, steam coming out of my ears.

That night, when Damon, my husband, came home, I ranted, “That bitch disrespected me in my own home.”

Damon asked, “How?”

I replayed the conversation and once finished saw Damon was smiling. “Why are you smiling?” I asked tersely.

“Sorry, sorry,” he repeated, “it’s just that it sounds awfully familiar to your early confrontations with my mom.”

“That was different,” I protested, his mother a complete bitch who hated me. “This girl is a manipulating bitch who is using her looks and body.”

“No, not like you at all,” he laughed, which only pissed me off more.

“I’ll ignore that condescending remark,” I snapped. “I don’t want him seeing her anymore.”

“Honey, he’s eighteen and old enough to make his own decisions,” he pointed out.

“He’s thinking with his dick,” I shot back, frustrated he was not supporting me on this.

“Again, he’s eighteen,” he repeated, as if that explained everything. Fuck, men are stupid, one dimensional assholes.

“You were eighteen when we met,” I pointed out.

“Exactly,” he said.

“What are you saying?” I asked exasperated.

“Just the most truthful thing about male DNA. We fall for your looks first and then get to know the rest of you, good or bad,” he explained.

“So if I was ugly you wouldn’t have fallen in love with me?” I asked.

“Honestly?” He asked, realizing the conversation had become dangerous for him.

“Yes, Damon,” I said, using his first name instead of any sweet term of endearment, a one word message that this was serious.

“Tiffany, I love you,” he said, trying to avoid the conversation.

“Because I’m pretty,” I said, not letting him off the hook so easily.

“Yes,” he replied. “I asked you out because you were hot…is that really a surprise?”

Realizing suddenly I had said yes for the exact same reason, my icy exterior shattered as I admitted, walking over to him, “I guess not. I said yes because you were the quarterback and looked fucking hot in your uniform.”

“I feel so dirty and cheap,” he smiled, his humour almost always able to make me smile.

“Do you want me to do something dirty?” I asked, dropping to my knees.

He looked down at me, “I don’t know, I’d hate for you to just use me for my cock.”

“Don’t worry,” I smiled, as I fished out his cock, “I use you for your money, too.”

He laughed heartily as I took his cock in my mouth.

…..

The next day, Quinn was over again and once we were alone she said, “I see you still have the cans in the garbage can.”

“Yes, I do,” I said, not even looking at her.

“I’m trying to play nice,” she said.

“We aren’t friends, Quinn,” I said, turning around.

“Oh, trust me. That was not my implication,” she said, her tone oddly ominous in an inexplicable way.

“Good that we have that clear,” I said, turning away and back to the salad I was making, implying the conversation was over.

Her tone firm, like mine would be when scolding Trevor, she said, “I expect you to have the cans in the recycling container next time I am here.”

I scoffed, as I turned around to give her my patented glare, “I expect you to leave and never come back.”

Walking to me with a confident swagger that both pissed me off and made me slightly uneasy, she said, now directly in front of me, “Don’t make me do this.”

“Do what?” I asked, dying to sound confident even though her tone and look in her eyes rattled me slightly.

“Don’t make me turn you,” she said.

I had no idea what she meant and our showdown was interrupted as Trevor returned and asked, in his usual man-oblivious-to-an-awkward-situation manner, “What’s for dinner?”

I broke my stare at Quinn and said, “Your favourite, honey.”

“Yummy,” he said.

Quinn said, “I need to get going.” She moved to me and whispered, “Don’t test me, Tiffany.”

Before I could respond, she moved away, kissed Trevor on the lips and all sing-song said, “See you tomorrow sexy,” even though she was oddly looking at me when she said it.

After dinner, I tossed all three Coke cans in the garbage, a big smile on my face while doing it. Although I could recycle, I should recycle and I would have if it would have not become a power struggle (the first time I tossed a can in the garbage was just carelessness)…but her pretentious attitude made me defiant.

I also googled the definition of ‘turn’ and laughed to myself at her implication. If I was reading her intention correctly she implied she could turn me…aka…make me a lesbian. I had never, even in high school when I was a cheerleader, or college in my sorority, done anything with a woman.

While tossing and turning later that night, I couldn’t get past the pretentious implications of Quinn. When I finally did fall asleep I had a crazy sex dream, or more a sexual nightmare:

“You want my cock don’t you, slut?” Quinn asked, naked except for a strap-on.

“God, yes,” I moaned, on all fours.

“Beg, my slut,” she ordered.

“Please fuck me with that big cock,” I begged.

“But I thought you were too classy to be a lesbian submissive play thing?” She asked, rubbing the toy slowly up and down my wet, burning pussy lips.

“I was wrong,” I moaned, “I’m just a slut for you to fuck.”

“Because you’re a good slut,” she purred.

“Yesssssss,” I moaned, feeling the toy part my pussy lips.

“And an obedient pet,” she continued, the head of her cock teasingly right at my cunt hole.

“Woof,” I replied, shocked by my own response of eagerness to submit.

She laughed, as she ordered, “Fuck yourself on my cock, Tiffany.”

I bounced back on her cock and screamed, “Yessssss.” Suddenly, I was woken out of my wicked dream as Damon asked, “Honey, you okay?”

Thankful to realize it was just a dream, even though my pussy was soaked, I rolled on top of him and smiled, “Just having a naughty dream.”

Damon smiled, “Want to make it a reality?”

“Hmmmmm,” I smiled, as he tugged down his underwear and I swallowed his cock with my fevered cunt. I rode him hungrily, filled with a desire to come, yet frustrated at what had made me horny.

An intense orgasm later, I returned to sleep as Damon quipped, “I don’t know what that dream was about…but you should have more of them.”

Thankfully, I didn’t have another dream that night.

…..

The next morning, I had just gotten dressed, deciding to wear thigh highs, something I only wore on rare outings for Damon, but wanting to feel sexy, and four inch heels, somehow subconsciously competing with Quinn. I had two hours before a PTA meeting to begin preparations for prom in a few weeks, when the doorbell rang.

It rang two more times before I got there which already had me annoyed by the time I opened the door. My annoyance doubled when I was standing face to face with Quinn. “Well, that figures,” I said

She walked right past me and into he house.

I snapped, “Don’t you dare walk into my home uninvited.”

She ignored my words as she headed to the kitchen.

I slammed the door and followed her in just in time to hear her say, “How disappointing.”

“Get out of my house,” I demanded.

“Why couldn’t you just obey my order?” she said with a heavy sigh.

“Because you are a pretentious teenager and I am an adult,” I glared. “Now leave this instant.”

Ignoring my demand, which pissed me off even more, she said, sighing again, “Just remember, I didn’t want to do this, I really like your son, but you have left me no other choice.”

“Do what?” I asked, disconcerted slightly by her confident demeanour.

“You know what? It’s Earth Day today, so being the kind hearted woman I am, I will give you one more chance to do the right thing,” she said, her tone condescending as hell.

“Take them out yourself,” I defiantly replied, not backing down.

“Just remember, you made me do this,” Quinn repeated, her facial expression hinting regret before shifting to something entirely different.

She walked right past me, out of the kitchen and out of the house. I stood there bewildered by the whole conversation, not used to having anyone treat me that way, particularly a teenager. I was fuming when I heard her return.

She walked directly to me, a duffle bag in her hand, and said, “You don’t like me much do you?”

“Not at all,” I corrected.

“As you shouldn’t,” she smiled, which only pissed me off more.

“Why is that?” I asked, although I had my own reasons.

“Well, for one, you and I are a lot alike,” she said.

This annoyed me, even though it was true, “We’re nothing alike.”

“Secondly, I am fucking your son,” she said, matter-of-factly, before adding, “And I mean fucking…him.”

“Excuse me?” I gasped, somehow still shocked by her disrespect for me.

“He makes a great bitch,” she continued.

Suddenly a light bulb went on as I stammered, for the first time feeling overwhelmed by the situation, just like I had last night in that sex dream, “W-w-what do you mean?” I was suddenly praying that he was fucking her, but was pretty confident it was her fucking him.

“He has one tight ass and, man, for such a muscle head, he sure squeals like a bitch,” she continued, clearly enjoying revealing this to me.

“He would never,” I retorted, although seeing how smitten he was with her, I wasn’t confident in my response.

“Oh, trust me, he has become a very good little ass slut,” she continued, as she pulled out her phone and turned it around. “See.”

I stared at a photo of Trevor on all fours with a strap-on clearly in his ass, although I couldn’t see more than the waist of the penetrator…although assumedly it was Quinn.

“You bitch,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Actually Trevor is the bitch,” she countered, as her hand moved under my dress and directly to my vagina.

“What are you doing?” I gasped, pushing her hand away, last night’s’ dream again flashing into my head.

“Wearing thigh highs instead of pantyhose,” she nodded approvingly. “Like a good slut.”

“I’m not a slut,” I protested, now regretting at my clothing choice, “now please leave.”

“Why are your panties wet?” She asked.

I hadn’t noticed, nor could I explain it, but my panties were very damp.

“You want to be on your knees like your son, don’t you?” She asked, moving her hand back to my crotch.

“What?” I gasped, completely shocked by this girl’s aggressive, pretentious behaviour, even though I couldn’t deny the sudden horniness inside me.

“Your cunt tells me you’re a submissive slut like your son,” she said, her fingers tapping on my clit through my panties.

I let out an uncontrollable moan as her fingers brought pleasure I couldn’t ignore, before I pushed her hand away again.

“Knees, Tiffany,” she ordered.

“Leave,” I said, my face flushed.

“Knees, now,” she repeated, her tone stern…like mine usually is.

“Leave,” I repeated, completely rattled and desperate to get her out of my house.

“Knees, slut, or you will be punished,” she threatened.

I scoffed, “I am not a dog.”

“Actually, that is exactly what you are, Tiffany. You are my pet, my PTA pet, my MILF pet,” she listed, the terms insulting, but somehow, paradoxically, making my pussy wetter.

“Please, Quinn, just leave,” I said weakly, feeling my will power to stand up to her fading as my cunt burned.

“That’s one,” Quinn said.

“I’m not a child…” I began but was interrupted.

“That’s two,” she counted, adding, “if I get to three you will be punished.”

“Are you threatening me?” I asked, tersely.

“Three,” Quinn said, “You must really like being punished.”

“Please, Quinn,” I pleaded, feeling completely overwhelmed by her strong demeanour.

“Four,” she sighed. “You are only making matters worse for yourself.”

Somehow sensing she wasn’t bluffing, without another word, I felt my body lowering itself to the floor.

“Good girl,” she purred, her dominant tone shifting to condescending, as if I was a dog, “although you still need to be punished for taking so long to obey.”

I looked up at her with daggers and yet didn’t say anything.

“We’ll save your punishments for later,” she said, before asking me, “Have you ever eaten pussy before?”

I thought she was maybe going to fuck me, like she had Trevor, which frustratingly made my cunt wet, but it had never occurred to me that she may want me to do something as disgusting as eat her out. “God, no,” I replied, disgusted.

“Great, I love watching a straight bitch become a pussy lover,” she smugly replied.

“I will not,” I began, but she interrupted me again.

She ordered, “On all fours.”

“What?” I gasped, shocked again by the command.

“On all fours, like a good puppy,” she repeated.

“Please, just leave,” I protested.

“Now!” She roared.

I quickly obeyed, overwhelmed by her powerful personality, even as the humiliation burned to my core.

“Good girl,” she again instantly purred, as she slipped out of her heels.

“Lick my feet,” she ordered.

I looked up and stammered, “P-p-please let me pay you.”

She laughed, “Trust me, I don’t need your money. Plus, what would you be paying me for?”

“To not show those pictures of my son,” I pointed out.

“I wouldn’t do that to Trevor,” she said. “He is a sweetheart.”

“Then why am I…” I began, realizing I didn’t have to follow the orders of this bitch since she apparently wasn’t blackmailing me like I just assumed she was.

“Because like your son, you are submissive deep down,” she interrupted. “You can’t explain it, but your cunt is soaked, your body hungry for submission…your mind just hasn’t caught up to the obvious revelation yet.”

“That’s absurd,” I countered, beginning to get up.

“Sit!” She roared, again scaring me as I instantly dropped back onto all fours.

I quickly obeyed again, her tone frightening me.

She said, her tone smug, “Tell you what, if your panties aren’t soaked I will leave now, if they are soaked, which we both know they are, you will be my pet without any more silly acts of disobedience.”

I bit my lip, knowing that my panties were drenched, although I couldn’t understand why. I wasn’t a lesbian…I didn’t enjoy being treated like this…and I thought she was a bitch. Yet, there was no denying my cunt was on fire.

She continued, “Right now you are thinking to yourself…why am I so horny? I hate this bitch. But unfortunately, the psychology of the submissive is one where once the invisible barrier that has helped you resist or not even be aware of your sexual needs is broken…you’re completely at the whim of your need of sexual submission.”

“That’s ludicrous,” I retorted, even though it felt she was reading my mind.

She moved behind me, lifted up my dress and said, “Yet, you’re on all fours, in your kitchen, allowing your son’s girlfriend to feel up your cunt.”

Before I could respond in protest, to try and defend my submission for fear of blackmail (which was becoming a growingly weak protest), her finger slid under my panties and directly between my pussy lips. So instead of a strong worded firm protest, I moaned.

She chuckled, “Shit, Tiffany, you’re fucking revved up and ready to go.”

I tried not to moan again, as her fingers teased my pussy, and I responded, “It’s not because of yoooou.”

“It’s not because of meeeeeee,” she mocked, slipping a finger inside my pussy.

“Please stooooop,” I pleaded with a moan, which betrayed me yet again.

“Okay,” she agreed, pulling her finger out of my pussy and returning to her position in front of me.

I felt a shocking disappointment when her finger slipped out of me.

“I imagine you’re wishing to reword your last sentence now,” she smirked.

“Please, just go,” I said for the umpteenth time, knowing I was too weak to stand up to her anymore.

“You sure you want me to leave?” She asked, as her skirt dropped to the floor.

I looked up and was staring at her shaved pussy. I had never really looked at a pussy sexually before, but looking at hers I couldn’t help but wonder what it would taste like. Her pussy was like a magnet drawing me in as I couldn’t look away, even though I knew I had to.

As if again reading my mind, she said, “I know what you’re thinking Tiffany. You’re not a lesbian…yet you want to lick it, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I admitted, before I realized I had answered in the affirmative.

“Ready to lick me?” She asked, her fingers parting her pussy lips for me.

“I shouldn’t,” I weakly protested, even as I felt my mouth water with anticipation. A taboo I had considered disgusting was suddenly the only thing on my mind.

“But, you want to,” she clarified.

“Yes, dammit,” I admitted frustrated that ,she continued to be right.

“And you want to be a good pet,” she continued, sliding a finger into her cunt.”Yes, no,” I responded confused, her pussy distracting me from any sort of rational thought.

“Which is it?” Quinn asked, bending down and moving her finger that was just inside her to my lips.

I didn’t hesitate as I opened my mouth as if I was conditioned to obey.

Her finger moved inside and I sucked on it like it was a small cock…the taste so appealing that I instantly wanted more.

“Good girl,” she again purred, before pulling her finger out of my mouth and standing back up.

I couldn’t explain it, but a wave of disappointment hit me as I looked back up at her.

“Be a good pet and I will let you have all the pussy juice you want,” she smiled down at me.

I just nodded as I awaited her next words. She went to her duffle bag, pulled something out, moved behind me and put it in my pussy.

I moaned, as something inside me began buzzing, “What is that?”