Was this some sort of declaration of love, I thought as I held her close and felt her breasts flatten against my chest. The scent of her body made me dizzy; I inhaled deeply. I wanted to take away all of her saness and make her smile. We lay in bed together. I starting stroking her face, tracing lines with the tip of my finger. I grew bolder and let my finger stray down to the long slender throar. Mom lay here passively, her sad pale blue eyes gazing up at me. Her pajama top was open, breasts partially exposed and gently rising and falling with each breath. This was a silent confirmation of what I had suspected all along. Her feelings transended "normal" motherly feelings, they were deeper and darker. I could not absolve myself of having similar feelings. We seemed to belong together. I traced patterns connecting the small constellation of freckles on her chest. She giggled softly. Her fingers opened several more buyyons of her top and pulled it aside so that one breast was now. The captain seemed very pleased with me. "You are becoming an excellent love slave," he said proudly. "Slowly but surely your pride is disappearing. Every spank and every humiliation you've received is breaking down those false airs and stuffy ideas. Soon you will even _think_ like a commoner!" I nodded obediently. A part of me felt alive and invigorated by what the captain said. Another part wondered what my mother would think if she could see me now. She'd die of shock right on the spot, no doubt. The very idea that her daughter would be seen with such common trash was scandalous. That her daughter would be engaged in sexual activity with such low-bred creatures--criminals and outlaws, no less--was even worse. That thought made me wonder again why I was cooperating with the captain. Why wasn't I fighting his every advance, screaming at his touch, spitting on his face when I got the chance? I decided it wasn't so much the punishment I feared, though I did dread the spankings and.
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