What?” Anxiety flares from within me, but something else too. Wetness quickly trickles into my panties as my breath becomes rapid and shallow. I’m...on the cusp of protesting when instead I bite my lower lip and listen to his proposition. “I’ve said it before, I’m not looking for a slave…. I’m not looking for 24/7 either. I would though, love the gift of your submission for more than a few hours on isolated days.” He pauses to find the right words, which also gives me time to process what he’s. But now, everything was changed. I wasn't stripping my mother so much as she was transforming both of us. Outside of having dressed me in her clothes and act like a little girl, mother remained the same. We went to church, she ironed my stupid white shirts, and I felt trapped in a childhood without much joy other than jacking off and now trying to figure out when I could get mother to disrobe again.My next chance occurred sooner than later. Not quite a week after mother played the piano, I. More

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