A young girl is taught the ways of sexual submission by her own
boyfriend's mother.



Cheryl picked up the phone absently.

Hello, is this Cheryl?

Cheryl’s heart skipped a beat, recognizing the voice.

"This is Cheryl," she said.

"This is Mrs. Foster," the voice said.

"Uh, hi, Mrs. Foster," she said.

Cheryl, I’d like to see you this morning, if you don’t mind.

Cheryl’s stomach twisted and turned. "Uhm, why?" she asked.

"It’s something I’d like to discuss in private, if you don’t mind.
Can you walk over now? It shouldn’t take long."

Well, uhm, I have to work later.

"This won’t take that long," she said firmly.

"Well, uhm, okay," Cheryl said helplessly.

What could she know, Cheryl thought frantically. Had she found
something she had left behind? But no, she’d been very careful to
grab
her underwear as well as her clothes. Could she possibly know that
she
and Matt – but how could she? Matt wouldn’t have told her! Maybe it
was
something else entirely, something about Matt. Surely he wasn’t
sick?!

She was dressed much as she had been the other day, in jeans and
tank top as she hurried down the street towards Matt’s house. But her
stomach was churning as she ran through the possibilities of why Mrs.

Foster wanted to see her. Surely she hadn’t seen her there under the
bed the other day!? The thought of that was so horrifying it stopped
Cheryl dead.

But no, if she had noticed her then she and her husband would have
stopped doing what they were doing. They wouldn’t have carried on
like
that knowing she was watching. And she’d been blindfolded almost the
whole time. How could she have seen anything? No, it must be
something
else, something to do with Matt. Maybe she had spotted her clothes
there when she’d seen Matt out, and then thought she had left or…
maybe
Matt really was sick?

The thought of facing Mrs. Foster, though, after what she’d seen
the other day, was daunting. How could she ever look her in the eye
after what she’d seen – and heard!? Somehow she would have to manage.

She was very nervous and anxious as she arrived, and knocked
somewhat timidly on the door. She planned for a hundred
possibilities,
even though some didn’t bear thinking on, and only hoped it would be
something small, some silly little thing which most people would have
simply told her about on the phone. It was only because Mrs. Foster
was
so - .

The door opened and she stiffened. "Uhm, hi," she said.

"Come in, Cheryl," Mrs. Foster said, her face and voice giving
nothing away.

Cheryl stepped in nervously.

Come with me, please.

Cheryl followed her diffidently, amazed as they reached the
basement and started down.

Uhm, is this about Matt? He’s all right, isn’t he?

"Matt is fine," Mrs. Foster said over her shoulder.

The basement was large and finished in oak paneling. There was a
plasma screen TV at one end, and leather chairs and a sofa around it.

"We had a little get-together for some of our intimate friends last
night," Mrs. Foster said.

Uhm, oh?

"We were showing a little home video we made. Our friends, these
friends, at least, appreciate that kind of thing. They make home
videos, too."

"Videos?" she asked, entirely confused now.

Yes, take a look.

With that she picked up a remote control and pointed it at the big
screen TV. Cheryl gaped at the sight of Mrs. Foster, naked – or more
or
less so, wearing just a halter and blindfold. It was clearly taken in
her bedroom, and, as Cheryl stared in shock, clearly was from the
previous day. The camera had been sitting in the far corner, and she
could see Mrs. Foster crawling across the floor to Mr. Foster’s feet.

And then, to her utter horror, because the camera was low, she
could see past them to the bed, and see herself squirming closer to
the
edge to watch. The blood left her face and she felt the room swimming
around as she saw herself staring, noted that her body – her