Silent H. Jekyll MF, Mf, Ff, bdsm, nc, some scat: story codes refer to the series, not to specific chapters. Chapter Nine: "Love" How does one come back from total domination? One comes back to a world in which everything has changed, relationships have changed, the sun is different in the sky. The mother and daughter came back to a son who clung and a husband who didn't know how to act around them. To friends who never asked the things that were most on their minds. To a world where they wanted to avoid most familiar places and people. They came back to questioning police, police who wanted as many details as there were, police who could find no reports of a kidnapped Asian girl and who became openly skeptical, over time, of her existence. They came back to a world in which everyone went to counselors, together and apart, and everything they said was scrutinized for hidden meanings, so that each finally decided alone to just not mention certain things. It was a world in which each expected, any moment, to be snatched away again, to find her freedom to be nothing but a cruel practical joke on the part of the omnipotent Master. There were practical issues and sexual issues. She and her husband threw themselves into practical things to avoid having to face the sexual. How to get their son back in school? They had to know that the school was secure, but they also had to get him to know that. And what of the daughter? She withdrew, was sullen, was quiet, didn't go back to school, didn't even want to be home schooled. Most of the time she lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking what? The mother and her husband were afraid to express their desires to each other, afraid to try sex because they each thought it would be disastrous. But each was filled with desires, she with some she had not had before, because she was changed. He wanted to be a good husband, but he didn't know what he should do. He wanted to love her, but the counselor had told him it might be a long time before she could enjoy that again. She wanted him to hold her, but after a bit of that he was horny. It hadn't been that long that she had been back, but he'd had virtually no sex since she'd been taken. ---------------------------------------------------- One night he was massaging her back to help her relax. Then he told her to strip, to give her a complete massage. Her legs, arms, ass, the back of her neck. He was trying to stay away from anything that she would see as sexual, but he also wanted her to feel the sexual tension. Finally he had her turn over and massaged her front. He used a vanilla scented oil on her, up her thin, smooth thighs and around and past her vagina, staying away from the hair that was growing back. He did her stomach and up her chest. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing softly. He decided to massage her breasts. Her nipples stood under his hands. He took more oil and squeezed her nipples softly, then rubbed her whole breasts and pulled them in a milking motion. She tensed for just a moment, a bad look on her face, and then looked relaxed again. "That's okay, honey, I just want you to be relaxed." The liar. He massaged her face, the muscles of her neck, ran his fingers through her hair, pulling on her hair softly again and again. Then down her shoulders to her sides, and to her stomach. She put a hand on his arm and said "Massage me lower, sweetheart." He looked at her uncertainly and she said "It's all right, really. I want you to." He began massaging her in the way he knew she liked, working around her vulva, not touching there at first, then doing her thighs while he slowly pulled her legs open, then up to her labia, just brushing her sex as he moved to her stomach, then starting it again. With each cycle he brushed a little more firmly and a little more directly, and soon she was breathing much more fully and the tip of her tongue moved around her lips. The next pass he opened her pussy lips; the next he inserted fingers in her. She was very wet. He took more oil and worked her lips softly, then the valley from her vagina to her clitoris. He bent down to kiss her sex and suddenly she was crying hysterically. She rolled away from him and cried into a pillow, sobbing massive, gulping sobs, her back to him. He held her, trying to hide his penis which was completely erect. "It's all right, honey," he soothed her, "It was just too soon, that's all. You're all right with me. Really. I love you, honey, and we'll get through this." But she wouldn't be comforted. "You don't understand," she said when she could finally make sensible words, though she was just stringing phrases together. "You don't understand. Couldn't love me. If you knew. No one could. Didn't tell the police. Or the counselor. I have to tell you. You're going to hate me. I'm so ashamed." She was crying too heavily to talk again, then after a moment repeated, "I'm so ashamed. I don't deserve you to love me. I should be dead!" She hiccupped as she spoke. She was wiping her face on the sheets. He was hovering over her, not knowing what to do, wondering what he could say. "Honey, anything he made you do, it wasn't your fault. He made you do them. It wasn't you..." But she pushed him away and sat on the edge of the bed, still rubbing her face with the sheets, looking as far away from him as she could, so she could confess. "But it was me. You don't understa ... you don't ... what you don't know is that he made me want him." Now she was calmer, and she spoke in a very quiet, very flat, very soft voice. "All the things he did to me, using me all those ways, what I didn't tell anyone was that he made me want him for sex. I wanted him to do all those things. I couldn't help myself. I thought about it all the time. " "Honey, I know, I think I know, but that was all part of being a captive. The counselor told me some things like that could happen. It just takes time." "But you see, darling, I love you, but I still want it." She was crying quietly now. Then: "I think I'm ruined. He ruined me for ordinary love." She turned to her husband. Her face was red, wet, her eyes swollen, and she had too bright a smile for him. "See, I want sex in my rear and my mouth. I learned to like it and to be good at it, and I think of ..." she started crying again. "And I still think of it all the time." When she spoke again she tried to sound ironic: "I guess the good part is that it is okay if you would like to do them, because I would like you to." "Honey, I don't want to do those things to you. I'm not like him." But he did, he always had. He just couldn't because she was so distressed. Maybe they never could. "Darling, I do like those things now, I really do. And if you'd like to try them, I'd like to do them, but with you, not him." She started crying once again and just said "Please forgive me" before dissolving. He held her a long time, doing spoons, until she was asleep. He wrapped his arms all around her and held a hand lightly over her eyes protectively. He kept kissing her hair. ---------------------------------------------------- He slept. He woke during the night and she was awake again, facing him, kissing one of his hands. He moved his fingers softly over her cheek and lips, and she sucked a finger all the way into her mouth. He turned on instantly. She moved right up to him and started kissing his face, sucking his lips, wriggling up against him. He held her away from him for a moment, and asked her: "Honey, are you sure?" "Yes. Please let's make love. I do want you. Please do this for me." He caressed her whole body, and as he did that she scooted down to his prick and sucked it into her mouth. It fit more easily than her captor's had. She gave maximum pleasure, but worked him very slowly. She paused to say: "Sweetheart, I want to do you all the way. Let me." She went back to sucking him, but let him turn her body around far enough to play with her ass and sex. She was completely slippery, not just faking interest for him. He wet his fingers on her and slipped a thumb up her ass. He fucked her ass with one thumb. He was able to reach his other hand around and moved it to her sex, lightly across the smooth skin between sex and ass, and up and over her ass. It made her shiver and quake. She moaned against his penis. He started masturbating her while she sucked him, and she made sex noises, but then he couldn't hold himself any longer and came into her mouth, gasping, losing track of what he was trying to do. The earth moved for him. It did. He had never experienced that. She hadn't come. She held his penis in her mouth for a bit, swirling his semen about with her tongue, tasting it, finding it in some indefinable way different than her captor's. His penis didn't become flaccid. It had been so long since he had done anything. She thought to take a chance. "Now, sweetheart, do my rear. Make me come." He turned her over and had her kneel up. He opened the middle drawer on the bedside table, removed their vibrator, and plugged it in. Then he took mentholated petrolatum and worked her ass until she her anus was relaxed and open. He used the petrolatum on her vulva, and put some on her nipples as well. She liked his hands on her and she wanted him, her love, preparing her body. By the time he had her ready he was completely hard again. He pushed lightly into her and she pushed outward and the head was in. Then he pushed in all the way. She used what her captor had taught her to give him the most pleasure. He fucked her slowly and started using the big rubber head of the vibrator on her sex, finding it easy to hold back a little now that he had come once. He worked her until she, too, was gasping and turning her head back and forth and grabbing the sheets, when he started fucking fast, so that they actually orgasmed at almost the same instant. They were pushing against each other, making noises in two different pitches, and finally collapsing together, her legs pushed straight down the bed and he on top of her all the way down. They lay for a few minutes. He put his forearms on the bed to support himself and take weight off of her. After a few more minutes he pulled out of her and rolled to the side, making sure that he didn't lose skin contact with her. Finally she said softly: "Wait here." She went into the bathroom and ran some water, came back with a warm washcloth, and cleaned his penis. He twitched when she ran it over the head. She tossed the cloth to the floor. They snuggled, half asleep, touching each other, kissing. He didn't mind that she had his semen on her breath. After a bit he noticed that her eyes had filled and she was trying not to cry. "Honey, what's the matter? Tell me. Did I hurt you?" "Oh no. Oh no. It's just that I, I didn't know. I didn't know if I would ever be able to make love to you again, or if you would want me." But there was something else, too. He was smaller than her captor, and she had found herself being disappointed that there wasn't as much pressure inside her. ----------------------------------------------------- She and her husband were affectionate in the morning. It was time for him to drop their son off at school and return to work, as long as she could stand being alone. She was careful to lock the door behind him. She then went straightaway to her daughter's room. The girl was still asleep, this dear sweet thing that shared the secret no on else would ever discover. They hadn't talked about it even between themselves. The whipping, yes, they told the police and the counselors about that. He had made them do it, so there was no shame. But not their passion for each other, required by him but then self-sustaining. Even the husband did not know about that. How could they ever tell anyone? She wondered if she and her daughter would ever be able to be normal together. The daughter had leaned on her, entering the police station in that small town, then had held her hand tightly while they waited for her husband and others to arrive. She'd gone almost silent afterwards, saying little even to her counselor, and almost nothing to her mother. Now the mother sat at the edge of her bed and stroked her hair. After a bit the daughter woke up, but she didn't look at her mother. "Sweets, it's time to get up. We have to talk." "What?" She hadn't answered for a minute, and her voice seemed hard. "Well, I think we need to talk. About what happened to us. We haven't yet." She was nervous. "What do we have to talk about?" "About what happened, what we did. What he made us do." Silence. "I think we have to, sweets, so we can get past it." "What good does talking do? It was better when he made you shut up." It was as though she had been slapped. She sat on the bed without moving, holding her hands in her lap. After a bit her lower lip quivered and her eyes filled. One drop ran down her cheek. Trying not to cry, she said: "Please, dear, it's so hard. I know it's hard, but we shouldn't be so distant, we went through so much. I love you. Isn't there anything I can do?" She scratched her daughter's back with light fingernails, the way her daughter had liked so much since she was a toddler. Silence. Then, finally, her daughter said quietly, almost too quietly to be heard, "I'm sorry Mother. I didn't mean to hurt you." The daughter sat up and they hugged and kissed. Chaste kisses. Mother/daughter kisses. They both cried. They pulled a few inches apart and she looked at her daughter's face. They were the same height now. She looked over the dark eyes, and the lips that were just a few inches away. The memory came to her out of nowhere, how it had felt to cross over from sweet to sensual kisses with her, the precise moment it had occurred, the feel of that small tongue, how she had become so lost in her lust for her daughter's mouth. How delicious it had been to do that thing, both erotic and sweet, and so easy once she started, though she knew it was evil and only God would be able to forgive her. How had her Master turned her so completely? And now she realized that she was staring at her daughter's mouth, and wanting again to kiss her sensually. No, don't do this to her. Let her recover. I need to let my baby be. I don't have to act on those feelings. She remembered how the encounters had ended and thought her daughter surely would remember the whippings as the major part of them. I hurt her so badly. I can't do anything to her ever again. She moved her head back to a more proper distance. Then the thing happened that ripped the fabric of her universe. Her daughter leaned over to her and kissed her softly on the mouth. There was no hesitation or fumbling. Her lips were partly open, and she caressed her mother's lips with hers, then pulled at her mother's lower lip with hers. The mother found herself kissing back, then stopped, leaned further back, and put her hands on her daughter's cheeks. "No, sweets, no, we can't do that. I love you, but we can't do that." "We're different now, Mother. It's not the same. What do you think I think about all the time? About what we did. It's what I want to do. I know you do too, and I know that you'll do it." She would. She knew she would do whatever her daughter told her. She had become so good at following directions. Still, she tried to resist. "Please don't do this, sweets, please, we'll get through it. You'll see. Don't make me." But when her daughter moved her hands away and pulled her mother's face to her own, she didn't resist much. She let her daughter kiss her and then she was kissing back and was hardly able to tell the moment that she became an active participant. She was sighing as they kissed open mouthed, moving the moist parts of their lips together and brushing tongues. She became suddenly short of breath. Her daughter was panting. They stopped for just a moment and rested their open mouths lightly on each other's, breathing each other's breaths, and they moved their lips and the flesh around their lips ever so softly across one another, feeling skin that is as soft as anything one can imagine, then touched just the tips of their tongues before invading each other's mouths again. "Mother, you need to take off your clothes." She knew she would do it, and she was so lost again that she wanted to do it, but part of her held back. "Now, Mother." She stood, futzed for a moment, then unbelted her robe and slipped it off. She pulled her nightgown over her head. Now her breasts were exposed. She slipped down her panties. She stood naked before her little girl, and her daughter was looking at her body. Her mind was filled with danger signs. She felt naked again, for the first time since the captor had made her strip and then had shaved her muff. She didn't know what to do. "Don't move." Her daughter got up and walked over to her. She was still dressed. She put her hands under her mother's breasts and hefted them, as if weighing sacks of some useful liquid. She took her mother's nipples in her fingers and squeezed them hard. The mother gasped a little but didn't move. "You can make sounds for me, Mother. I like to hear them." She pulled her mother to her and began kissing her again, while playing with her breasts. She bent down and sucked and nibbled on the nipples. The daughter pulled off her nightgown. She wasn't wearing panties. The two of them embraced, feeling the other's body with her own body, all the way down the front. The mother still knew she oughtn't do this. She moved her palms over her daughter's ass, then brought them around and made circular motions with her palms on her daughter's pointy nipples. "Mother, do to me what you did to me there. When I was hung up." She led her mother by one hand back to the bed and lay down. The mother leaned over her and sucked a whole tit into her mouth. She wouldn't be able to do that much longer. She remembered to bite a nipple, and her daughter cried out, not loudly. She moved down to her pussy and sucked one side into her mouth. It was then that she found that her daughter was still shaving herself there. She took two fingers and put them into her daughter. For a moment she thought she might hurt her, but then she remembered that her daughter had been had by the captor's enormous cock for months. So she fucked her fingers in and out while she licked and sucked on her daughter's vulva. The daughter was making only little whispered cries, still more sound than she would have made at his place. At some point the cries became louder, almost sob-like. At that time she pushed her sex, rhythmically against her mother's face. She cried "yes, yes, yes," and her mother didn't for a second think of it as being a trite outburst, because her daughter was climaxing and pulling mother's face into her vagina, and mother was breathless and excited herself. They lay still, just breathing, then the mother crept up her daughter's body and held her, nuzzled her hair, brushed her lips across her daughter's closed eyes, then moved her lips down and across her daughter's mouth. Her daughter opened her eyes and they kissed and her daughter fondled her pussy. "Mother, you need to shave yourself." She was playing with her mother's pussy while she talked. Her mother lay with half-closed eyes, doing what she was good at, surrendering. "I can't sweets." She made a little squeak because her daughter's hand moved right across her clitoris. "I can't, because your father would know." She didn't want her daughter to stop. "Just tell him that it's another thing you learned to like when you were a prisoner." Mother's eyes grew wide. She pulled her daughter's hand away, leaned up on a elbow, looked down at her, and said: "You were listening!" "Yes, Mother. I heard everything. You really aren't very quiet in there. I've listened to you two having sex a lot of times, and you never close your door all the way. Just tell Daddy that you like the feeling of a smooth pussy. That's all you have to do. You already do other new things with him." She kissed her mother again and pushed her gently down to the bed. She pushed two fingers into her mother. Mother was so easy. "I'll talk to him, Sweets, okay? I'll do that." She was high, her clitoris felt electric. Her daughter's fingers were so smooth and tiny, moving over her, over her, into her. She tried to say something but only sighed, then managed, "Sweets, do me please. I need that now. I ... oh! Oh! Do me like I did you." "No, Mother. You have to do yourself. I'll kiss you while you do." "No! I can't do that. It's too much." "Do it, Mother." She moved a hand to one of her mother's breasts and twisted the nipple. Her mother gasped. "Please, Sweets." "Do it." She twisted it again, and used her fingernails on it. The mother held her arms at her sides and screwed her eyes shut. A vein stood out on her forehead and her face was red. "I told you we were changed. And I'm different from you. You can be the mother when other people are around, but you're not in charge when we're alone." So her mother started masturbating, using two fingers on herself, then rolling herself with the palm of her hand. She thought she couldn't finish it, doing herself in front of someone else, but she was wrong. Her daughter leaned over her and placed open mouth on open mouth, touching lips and tongues and mainly breathing her mother's breaths. She tickled her mother's breasts gently, no hurting, and they breathed together, and when her mother came over the edge she caught her breath and with it her soul. She would have it forever. They dozed, cuddling, for a long time. The mother drifted in and out. When awake she wondered how she would handle her husband, and how she and her daughter could keep this a secret. They would have to be so careful and private. She drifted back out. And at that very moment the slim Asian girl hung straight down by her arms, her legs spread, her lovely hair across her face, welts on her front and back. She was whimpering. "Master. Master, please. I'll be good." End.