Story: Her Mother’s Hangups

Taylor’s mother had had a difficult conservative-Christian upbringing, and she passed on many of her hangups to her daughter.

She insisted that a woman never touched her own breasts. She demanded that breasts never be exposed, and it was the duty of any woman to cover the tits of another woman if she saw them being a slut. Women should greet men by hugging them, and never argue with a man. She held that a woman should always remove her skirt in a bathroom, to stop it brushing against “who knows what”. She said that the only women who got raped were the ones who deserved to be raped. She insisted that a woman marry the first man she had sex with, and work in every way to please him. And lesbianism, of course, was a terrible sin.

As soon as she reached her age of majority, Taylor moved out of home, unable to stand it anymore, and immediately enrolled in a women’s studies degree and shacked up with a lesbian girlfriend. When her mother found out, she was apoplectic. She turned up at Taylor’s dorm and abducted her.

Taylor struggled, but her mother kept her captive until she could be “deprogrammed” – which in this case meant taking her to a hypnotist, and having all her mother’s weird rules and hangups implanted into her under trance, along with an urge to immediately withdraw from her studies.

Afterwards, Taylor, traumatised but driven by new compulsions, went straight to the on-campus house of the Dean of Students and knocked at his door, intending to ask for an immediately withdrawal.

When he answered the door, he was holding a glass of whiskey, and quite surprised to see her. She had meant to just ask for the withdrawal, but she had the sudden compulsion to greet him by hugging him. She enfolded him in her arms, crushing her chest against him. One of his legs ended up pressed against her groin in a way that made her blush, and she felt his cock hardening against her thigh.

Her surprise movement had made him spill his drink, though – whiskey splashed across her neck and cleavage, wettening her tits. She blushed, and released him. 

“Um, sorry…” she said. “I wanted to talk about something with you, but…”

“Of course,” he said. “Go use the bathroom to clean up, and then we can talk about… whatever it was you were interested in.” His gaze was on her wet tits, making her feel uncomfortable.

He led her to the bathroom. When she stepped inside, she closed the door – and then immediately removed her skirt, neatly folding it and leaving it on the towel rack, leaving only her panties below the waist.

Then she stepped to the mirror, and pulled down her shirt to expose her tits, so she could clean them.

She froze. She could see herself in the mirror – and the version of herself in the mirror, of course, had her tits exposed. She moaned. She was being a slut in the mirror. She had to cover the mirror-girl’s tits. She reached out – but no, she couldn’t touch a woman’s tits.

She knew she could cover her own tits… but she couldn’t immediately work out how to pull her shirt back up again without touching her titflesh. And the girl in the mirror was still topless.

There was only one way she could think of. She got up on the bathroom counter, so she was standing right against the mirror, and leaned forward, until her breasts squashed against the glass, simultaneously covering her own nipples, and those of the girl in the reflection.

But now what? She couldn’t move without exposing her breasts again, and those of the other girl. 

Over the next few minutes, it became clear to her what would happen. Eventually, the Dean would come in to find out what had happened to her, and would find her in her panties, her tits out, unable to move. He would remember her hug, and casually stroke her ass, and she would want to scream and jump away, but be unable to move her tits off the mirror, and unable to argue with a man.

He would take her silence as consent, and pull down her panties, and begin to finger her pussy, and when she still didn’t argue he would lift her down from the counter, carry to her his bed, and fuck her. She would hate every minute, as a lesbian, but from the moment his cock entered her pussy she would know that she would be obliged to marry this man, and do her best to make his raping of her enjoyable, and then afterwards she would seek out his every kink and degrading fantasy and help him practice them upon her, just like a good wife should…

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