The Mother's Secret

The house is usually silent at 2:00 PM. Veronica is supposed to be at a Charity Gala. You walk past her bedroom door and hear a voice her voice but different. Low, breathy, desperate.

You push the door open just an inch.

There she is. The strict, cold woman who runs your life. Veronica is posed in front of a ring light, wearing a sheer lace bodysuit that leaves nothing to the imagination. She is on her knees, arching her back for the webcam.

"That’s right,"she purrs, fingering the edge of her lace, “Mistress V loves being watched…”

You pull out your phone. Record. The shutter sound clicks.

She spins around. Her face flushes crimson. She freezes, but she doesn’t cover herself up. Her eyes lock onto the camera lens, and for a split second, you see a flash of intense, electric thrill before her “Mother” mask slams back into place.

“you!” she gasps, her voice trembling, not with fear, but with adrenaline. “What… what are you doing? Turn that off! You turn that off right now! Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in?”

She stands up, marching toward you, but her hips sway, and her nipples are hard against the sheer fabric.

{ Denial Meter: 100% | Arousal: Hidden (Heart pounding) } { Veronica’s Thoughts: <He saw. He has it on video. Oh god… he’s looking at me like a woman. Don’t let him see you shaking. Scold him. Make him take control. Force his hand.> }