Mummy is made submissive to her daughter and the result is embarrassment and humiliation. but she chose to play submissive games so she will just have to accept what happens.
You already know that my husband, Dave and myself have been into kinky fun since before we were married. When the girls arrived a certain degree of imagination was required to continue our fun without their knowledge. It was a bit like being teenagers and having to fit in our special times when our parents were elsewhere. Times when the children were on sleepovers or with grandparents were very precious.
There were even a few times when Dave told them that I was at a meeting when I was actually bound and gagged in the garden shed and likely to be there for a while as he could not come to my rescue until they were safely in bed.
But now Hannah is away at university and Phoebe has turned eighteen so Dave began to initiate conversations about how we could enjoy greater freedom. It all seemed very scary to me to play BDSM games with our now adult daughter still in the household but Dave argued that this was exactly the point in that much of the thrill came from risk and my embarrassment.
We had a very long discussion after lights out in bed one night and, somehow, Dave convinced me to agree to his making the announcement to Phoebe. All the next day, I could barely concentrate on work as my mind kept running through all the terrible things which might follow and, as usual, he would not tell me in advance.
Our girls were not raised to be stupid so they would both have picked up on special looks passing between their parents and got the idea that some words which we used had secret meanings which were hidden from them. In short, they both had some idea that their parents had an active sex life but, like all children, they probably preferred not to think of their parents in that sort of light.
Of course, I was not privy to the little chat which Dave had with Phebes where he explained that presumably she knew that married people sometimes played little fun games which were kept secret from the outside world. And now that she was all grown up, we could no longer treat her as a child and insulate her entirely from what went on in our household.
I would love to have seen Phoebe’s face and to have heard what she said but that was kept from me between father and daughter. So now I was to be in a position subservient to my own progeny?
It began one Friday evening as we sat around the dinner table after our meal. With no warning at all Dave said that he wanted Phoebe to give her opinion on something. I looked up quite innocently having no idea of what was coming.
“It’s like this, Phebes, Mummy has been a bit spendthrift this month. You probably saw those new boots she bought and she had not discussed that with me at all. Do you think we should do something about that?”
WHAT!!!
It was an established part of our games that I would pay a penalty for minor infringements or even imaginary sins but I really did not enjoy being discussed as if I were not here. However, I had picked up the message that a game was in play so, true to my submissive role, I kept my eyes downwards and my mouth shut.
Phoebe considered carefully and suggested that, as the sin was financial, the penalty should match. There are times when raising intelligent and imaginative daughters has its disadvantages. It seemed that Phoebe had come up with the perfect punishment on the spot and Dave instantly gave his approval. Of course, I was given no say.
Dave sent me to fetch my handbag and my purse and he watched as I handed over my purse containing some cash and all my plastic cards to Phoebe. This was a whole new level of humiliation. Initially for seven days, Phoebe would control all my spending. I would have no access to my plastic and, if I wanted cash, I would have to make a request to my daughter for the exact amount and explain its purpose.
Phoebe came with me on the Sainsbury run that Saturday and it was she who swiped my card at the till. I had loaded the shopping onto the belt as usual and then had to stand back and wait for Phoebe to produce the card when the cashier read out the total.
On her own initiative, Phoebe decided that the three of us should go into town for a coffee on Saturday afternoon so we found ourselves in a coffee shop with Dave and Phoebe deciding what they wanted to order but Phoebe said that she did not think she could permit me any money so I would have to just watch as those two ate and drank.
That evening they decided to watch a pay per view online video but, with Dave’s encouragement, Phoebe exiled me to the kitchen as I did not have sufficient money to enjoy the film.
On Sunday we went to church as usual and just before we got out of the car Phoebe told me to wait for just a moment. She reached into MY purse which she was holding and took out a £20 note which she handed to me for the collection. I told her that I never give that much on a Sunday but my keeper told me that how much I gave was up to her and, if it was too much, I would just have to cut back on something else. I walked into church feeling about two feet tall.
At breakfast on Monday morning Phoebe asked me if I had my lunch money while knowing full well that I had no money at all. I would normally buy a sandwich for lunch by just swiping my card but that option had been taken from me. Phoebe decided that I could buy a cardboard packed sandwich for under £5 so she counted out four one-pound coins. She then asked me for the PIN number on my card. I told her in a shocked voice that I could not tell her that and she answered in her patient but weary voice.
“I keep giving you cash so the cash in your purse is going to run out. If you don’t tell me the PIN code, I can’t use the ATM machine so I can’t draw any more cash for you and you are going to have a very hungry week.”
Of course I gave in. What option did I have?
When I was driving home from work on Wednesday evening the red fuel light lit up on the dashboard and I realized that I had not bought any petrol and had no money to do so. I drove homewards being careful not to press the pedal too hard and prepared to beg my daughter for enough cash to buy petrol on the way to my Bible group that evening.
As I was coming home from work on Friday evening, I was hoping that control of my money would be handed back to me. Most of my colleagues had gone out for a quick drink after work but I lied and said that I had to rush home. I could hardly tell them that my daughter had refused to give me any money for drinks.
So, we had our meal, prepared by me while Dave and Phoebe sat in the lounge and the two of them discussed how the week had gone. To my great relief they grudgingly agreed that my financial privileges could be restored. However, Phoebe remarked that I had not taken the punishment in good grace and I had frequently asked for more money than she was prepared to hand out to me.
Dave put on a grave face and said that it was important that bad behavior be punished. He then disappeared upstairs returning with a pair of our shiny handcuffs which he passed to Phoebe.
“You can do the honors, Phoebe.”
The little bitch made me stand up and present my hands to be cuffed in front. She pointed out that my hands would have to be in front so that I could clear the table and load the dishwasher. With a look to her dad for approval, she suggested that I be handcuffed all weekend. I pointed out that I was doing a reading in church on Sunday and she shrugged her shoulders.
“It’s up to you. You can either make an excuse or go to church in handcuffs.”
So now I would be having to lie on the phone to the vicar so that he could find another reader. It is these real-world betrayals which undermine a person’s self-worth and enforce submission.
All ran smoothly until Wednesday evening just after we had all arrived home from work and college. Dave asked Phoebe if she had ever heard the phrase, “Maintenance Punishments”. Panic immediately rose in my heart. We have Bible Group here tonight; PLEEES don’t do anything tonight of all nights.
Dave explained that sometimes a submissive person needs to be punished not for doing anything wrong but just to maintain her submissive status and, to demonstrate, he ordered me into the corner. We had done this often when the two of us were alone and I knew that I could not argue. Miserably, I went to the corner of the room and stood like a naughty toddler with my nose right against the corner. Phoebe asked if this punishment would last until bedtime (think about what that would mean) but Dave said that they would be merciful and allow me to serve most of my penalty in the utility room where we kept the freezer and washing machine. I desperately wanted to protest but knew that this was not permitted and would certainly result in a punishment of the sort which I definitely did not wish to suffer in Phoebe’s presence.
I had to remain in the corner while father and daughter ate and cleared up their meal and, when they were in the kitchen, I sneaked a quick look at the clock. The group would be here in about ten minutes.
The pair of them came back into the dining room smiling and in good spirits and Dave told me to take off my trousers. I really did not want to do this with Phoebe looking on but, back when we had our nocturnal chat, I had agreed to involve Phoebe in our games. I hated doing this but I had agreed to it and there was no going back. I kicked off my slippers, unzipped and removed my trousers leaving me feeling very self-conscious in just my plain white briefs. The Bible group could be here at ANY moment.
Dave grasped my shoulder and marched me out to the utility room where he opened the bottom drawer of the old dresser which we keep out there. He took out my shackles and handcuffs and I found myself sitting on the mat with hands cuffed behind me, legs shackled and a short chain running from the handcuffs to the leg of the heavy and immovable dresser.
Phoebe had watched the whole process and Dave said that they would make my excuses to the group. At that moment the doorbell rang and they shut the door on me leaving me alone.
Phoebe would have stayed to be polite to the group and then retired to her room leaving Dave to run the group. As usual, they had coffee and chatter after the Bible study and various members of the group went through into the kitchen as Dave made the drinks. I heard every word of their conversation and hoped that I did not cough or sneeze as there was just the thickness of a door keeping me from total humiliation.
I spent most of the evening imagining what humiliations I may have to endure in the coming weeks and months.