Sex-Cult Initiation Chaperone

"Good. That means we're doing it right."

I was wondering if she was going to give me trouble. I'd given her the second plug while we waited for our connecting flight in Atlanta and she'd gotten suddenly fussy, insisting I just admit this was all of one of Tom's plans. I told her nothing (just as Tom had specified). Fortunately she relented and sulked off to the bathroom to upgrade to the second plug (without 'help' from me this time... honest) but I worried she was winding herself up and might cause a scene on the flight. I'd be mortified if she embarrassed us while we were flying first class to Europe (and did I mention, Tom was flying us First Class? FIRST CLASS!!!)

"OK then," said Jane. "But first, just tell me where we're going."

"Prague honey, it says on the ticket."

"You know what I mean; why are we going there all the sudden? Why the secrecy? Why won't you admit Tom is behind all this when it so frickin' obvious this is one of Tom's things."

"You'll see soon enough, Jane. That's all I can tell you."

"Well at least tell me who we're going to be fucking when we get there. Men? Women? Vampires? Werewolves?"

"Janie ..."

"I mean, obviously Tom is flying us over to show us off, I mean I bet none of his friends have a hot, incestuous mother and daughter to..."

"Janie, control yourself! This instant!"

"Then treat me like a frickin' adult!" growled Jane.

I could tell she was on the edge of erupting into a screaming display of bad temper. If she did I'd probably follow suit and a lot of details would get loudly argued in front of my fellow first class passengers that, frankly, I would prefer not be revealed.

"Fine then," I shoved the cherry-wood box back into my purse. "Forget it."

There was a long silence between us. Finally she reached out with her palm up. "OK. Gimmie the next plug."

I gave her a dry look. "Are you sure?"

"Yes mother."

Without saying anything I got the box out again and pulled out plug number three (this one was a little wider than the width of an average man's thumb). I passed it to her with the lube. She hoisted the thing before her as if making a toast. "Well... up the hatch!" she said solemnly.

I smiled to myself in relief as I put the box away. When turned to face her again she was looking the other direction. Leaning forward to follow her gaze I spotted the young man seated across from us. He was more of a boy really, about college age, dressed casually but stylishly. He had a thick crop of freckles that were probably adorable ten years ago, brown eyes of an intelligent mien and ginger hair already thinning at the top. He was staring at the butt-plug in Janie's hand with wide, incredulous eyes.

Janie stood without looking back at me. As she did so, she fumbled the tube of lube (deliberately, it seemed to me) and it landed in the aisle. I got a full view of her curvy rump as she bent at the waist to retrieve it but, judging from the face of the kid across from us, he got an even better view of her ample cleavage. She took her time retrieving the tube and the kid took full advantage, ogling her chest shamelessly. When she finally stood she flashed him a long look and cocked a hip suggestively. As she sashayed down the aisle her tail had an extra wiggle and the kid's eyes never looked away. She cast him a 'come hither' look over her shoulder as she let herself into the toilet. He answered with a confused, sheepish smile.

I looked past the kid and saw that beside him, head against the window in slack-jawed sleep, rested a plain-looking young woman of about the same age. The kid turned towards his companion and inspected her closely. She didn't move at all. Without further hesitation the kid stood and walked quickly towards the toilet.

"Hey!" I called after him in a stage-whisper. He didn't react.

When he got to the toilet door he knocked gently and cast a last, furtive look up the cabin. The door opened a crack -- away from me, so I couldn't see inside - and a dainty hand with chipped pink nail polish reached out and seized the collar of his button-down shirt. He let himself be pulled inside and the door shut softly behind him.

"Crap," I said to myself.

I dug into my purse and, after a bit of searching, found a small, square, plastic envelope containing an unmistakable rubber ring within. Clenching it in my fist, I rose and strode purposefully to the toilet. I gave the door a sharp knock in order to be heard over the bump-and-grunt already sounding through the door.

There was a lag of a few seconds but, finally, a lad's voice spoke up. "Wot?" he said in a British accent.

"Janie!" I whispered hoarsely.

There was a brief flurry of clumsy-sounding fumbling before the door opened a crack. I looked inside but looking out at me wasn't the pretty face of my daughter, but rather the flush, freckled face of the British kid.

"Um... Hullo." He said.

"What IS it moth-er," hissed Janie from somewhere. I followed her voice and found her crouched on the floor with Brit Kid's left leg arched over her shoulder and his cock in her hand. His florid, veiny member was firm and wet and poised about an inch from her mouth. A single glistening strand of pre-cum already stretched from its tip to her lower lip.

"Aren't you forgetting something young lady?" I held up the condom as I frowned my disappointment at her carelessness.

She rolled her eyes and pulled a condom packet out of a skirt pocket, saying: "Duh, mom."

I hated it when she said "duh, mom" to me, but I guess I kind of deserved it this time. But better safe than sorry, right? I was constantly terrified of Janie catching some horrific STD that would render her barren, blind, crazy or worse.

"Well, um, OK then," I said lamely. The door shut in my face.

As I turned around I saw most of the passengers in the first class staring at me with very curious expressions on their face. "No mile-high ménage-a-trois today, I guess", I heard one businessman quip to another, eliciting laughter. I felt my face burn with embarrassment. I scurried back to my seat while doing my best to hide my blushing face behind my bouncy mass of loopy blonde curls.

"You are making spectacles of yourselves, Ms. Graham," said an elegant woman with a slight Italian accent. It was Theresa Sergi; she was sitting in Janie's seat. I recognized her from our only previous meeting, when she and her brother Tom had visited me a week ago to discuss Tom's concerns about my Janie and his plan to address them.

At the time I'd been too flabbergasted by the revelation of Tom's plan to give Theresa much notice (other than noting her obvious contempt for Your Truly). But, as I squeezed past her to get to my seat, I took the opportunity to look her over anew. She looked like she belonged in first class: Channel suit, tinted Dolce and Gabbana glasses and a lustrous cascade of artfully coifed amber hair. She'd obviously had some plastic surgery because she looked only a few years older than me but, since I knew her to be Tom's twin sister, she was well into her late forties. The illusion of youth was further emphasized by her lean, athletic body, girlishly narrow hips and big, pert breasts (obviously fake, IMO). Unfortunately for her, this carefully maintained illusion of youth was spoiled by her voice, which was raspy and deep, probably from years of cigarette smoke.

"What are you doing here?" I asked curtly.

"I've been spying on you... and good thing too. One might say that trying to involve yourself in an airplane lavatory tryst between your own daughter and a complete stranger is wildly indiscrete, no?"

"That's not what happened! I was just making sure she was protected; just keeping her safe."

Theresa laughed a humorless chuckle. "One keeps their child safe by instilling discipline and self-respect. What you did was reckless. Do you remember nothing of your conversation with my brother last week?"

"I..."

"I told Tom I thought you two were too dangerously out of control for our organization... But he never listens." She folded her arms and sighed. "Always thinking with his cock."

It occurred to me that, given the size of Tom's cock, thinking with that thing probably made him something of a genius. But I didn't think it proper to make that observation to his sister.

"We'll do better," I said.

She ignored me. "Are you going to be able to hand her off as we agreed?"

I swallowed. That was the part of Tom's plan with which I was most uncomfortable. "Well... I... Must we?"

"It is the whole point of this exercise. Obviously you can't be trusted to supply the proper discipline."

I sighed. "I still don't like it."

"This girl needs discipline, Patricia. Trust us. Once she's inducted into The Society -- once you're both in -- you'll see..."

"I don't know..."

Theresa gave me a hard look. "Let me tell you something. When I was young I was much like her; probably like you too. I flaunted my sexual prowess shamefully; actually thinking others would admire me for my talents and good looks." She shook her head sadly. "All it brought me was spite and enmity. People despised me for my... well, my gifts; they sought to ruin me, for no other reasons than jealousy and prudery. And they succeeded! They did ruin me. The depths to which I sank, the level to which I was debased... still those memories haunt me. I had to work my way back up from the gutter... so many lost years..." She sighed heavily. "But at least I learned an important lesson: that my omnivorous tastes, voracious appetites and experience are best kept hidden. Do you understand what I am saying?"

I nodded. I knew. I felt it when I saw strangers sneer at me and Janie in public or when men yelled the most insulting things at us from passing vehicles. We may be desired for our sexuality but that did not mean we were loved. As Theresa knew, it was quite the opposite actually.

"And I ask you," Theresa continued. "If the prudes and the jealous assholes were able to destroy me, despite my familial connections, how much worse will it be for your lovely but powerless young daughter? These prudes and assholes, they are very hard on we females, yes?"

I nodded sadly. She was starting to freak me out as badly as Tom had freaked me out in our meeting last week when he'd first brought up these concerns.

"Let me remind you, she will be graduated out of her high school in a few weeks. The sheltered part of her life is nearly over and you are running out of time, Ms Graham."

"OK, OK", I said. "I'll hand over control of Janie to Tom when he meets us. I'm just worried that Janie's going to..."

Theresa suddenly stood up, turned and headed back to her seat. I spun my head around to look the other direction up the aisle. The toilet door had opened and Janie was slipping out looking like a mess. Her hair was tussled, her shirt misbuttoned and the hem of her skirt was caught up in the back of her panties. However, her face was lit up with a rosy glow and she was flashing a big pleased smile on her pretty face as she waddled back to her seat, butt-plug number three apparently firmly in place.

"Hi mom!" she said as she gingerly sat down. She leaned in close for a kiss. I pushed her away as she tried to give me tongue. She laughed.

"Control yourself!" I whispered. My chat with Theresa had put me in a sour mood. "We're in first class! ...And fix your clothes."

Janie slumped in her seat and rolled her eyes. She dug into her skirt pocket. "Oh... here's this," she said and tossed butt-plug number two into my lap.

And so it went. We barely spoke for the remainder of the flight as I fretted over the ugly scene sure to come.

***

We were on the ground in Prague two hours later. One might think we'd get though customs in a flash since we had no luggage but, apparently, flying one-way with no luggage on a ticket bought by a third party from a completely unrelated country raises quite a few red flags with airport security no matter where you're flying into. So we were searched thoroughly by half a dozen female members of whatever organization was in charge of that sort of thing over there (while being watched by more than a few male officials from behind the two way mirror that took up an entire wall of the room, I have no doubt). They confiscated butt-plug number three when they found it in Janie's bottom and that discovery resulted in a lot of gratuitous orifice exploration for both of us. But, finally, after everyone who was interested had a good long look at us inside and out, they reluctantly let us go.

I wasn't in a very good mood by then. Being stripped naked and inspected by dykey uniformed customs officials who don't speak your language (or don't speak it well) is not something I recommend, especially when they're doing the same thing to your teenage daughter on the other side of the room. Janie was irritable too. I guess our fight was inevitable.

"Jesus fucking Christ, what a pain in the ass," mumbled Janie as we emerged from the customs office into some forgotten corridor in the basement of the airport.

We were both tired. I should have let that slide. But if I was a stickler about Janie's language I was even stricter about her blaspheming. "Janie! You apologize for that!"

Janie's full lips went thin and her big eyes narrowed as she briefly fought a battle with her temper and lost in a rout. "No mom. In fact, fuck no."

"Janie!"

"Tell me what the fuck we're doing in this fucking airport then! I don't know shit about what the hell... No. I mean, what the fuck we're..."

"Janie. I insist..."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..." Suddenly she was flashing me the middle finger with both hands and stomping her feet like a three year old. Thank God we weren't yet in the main concourse where people could see us.

"JANIE!"

"NO! Fuck Jesus, fuck God and fuck yooou, Mom!"

I was shocked, I really was. I started crying. I mean really crying. To hear to speak to me like that... it broke my heart a little.

"Damn it Jane!" I sobbed. "I just don't how to handle you anymore!"

Janie lowered her middle fingers and let her arms flop to her side. I could tell she was now feeling bad for losing her temper. In a normal fight -- and, like any mother and teenage daughter, we had plenty - we'd start apologizing to each other about now, eat some ice cream and then go shopping for some ill-advised clothing. But not this time. This time Tom showed up with Theresa at his side.

"Ladies!" he barked. "What is the meaning of this?"

Janie rushed to Tom and threw her arms around him. "I knew you had to be behind all this!" She smiled up at him. "Mom wouldn't admit it but I was like, du-uh, who else is gonna..."

He scowled down at her. "Jane, you have your mother in tears!"

"...I..."

"I had warned her that she needed to improve your social graces before arriving... but I can see she has failed. You are still quite a... ah... what do you call it?"

"A brat?" suggested Theresa.

"Yes. A brat." The tips of his mustache trembled as he spoke forcefully.

Janie's mouth dropped open as if she'd been slapped.

Tom turned away from Janie and walked up to me, saying: "Patricia! Are you OK my dear?"

I nodded with tears in my eyes. Tom took me in his arms and held me close. As he did so he whispered in my ear: "The timing is perfect. It must be now."

I swallowed hard, not wanting to take the next step. I was second-guessing everything. Did this plan even make sense? It sure seemed like it a week ago. But then, the concerns he had laid out for me in perfectly logical detail had touched on a host of anxieties that I'd been nursing for a long time. I knew firsthand how the world treated sexually generous young women and I could see the danger in Janie's oversexed naiveté. I had tried to explain to her about the hazards of predatory men or the jealous women who'd ruin her merely to soothe their own inadequacies. But she wouldn't listen. Young, beautiful and not prone to head-over-heels crushes or puppy love, affection came and went too easy for her. She just flitted away to the next screw whenever things got too weird or ugly, leaving a string of broken hearts and bitter ex-lovers in her wake. She always came away unscathed but I knew her luck couldn't last forever. When Tom had put my dread into words and then immediately suggested his plan to teach my girl some self discipline and discretion, I had agreed, gratefully so.

And now here I was, and it was time to hand my daughter over to this mustachioed European pervert.

"I can't control her..." I said before being choked by a sob. I couldn't even say my line.

Tom improvised. "There is nothing for it. She is just too... unrefined for my 'Event'. I will just have to send you two back to America."

"Unrefined?" asked Janie. "What am I too unrefined for?"

"Tom is throwing a big party for his friends; it's at a castle or something," I said as Tom nodded along in confirmation. Janie's eyes popped wide. "He invited us... I thought you might behave, you know, after all we've been through..." I sobbed a genuine sob. "It was a dumb idea. I was stupid to think..."

"No. No. I... I can be good."

"Absolutely not," said Theresa, sounding like she really, really meant it.

"Pleeease..."

"Well..." said Tom.

"Well what?"

"If you and your mother agreed to put you under my control for the duration of my event, I might consider..."

"Just take her. Do what you can. I give up." I said. I turned away, feeling wretched.

"And you, Janie?" said Tom.

I had to hand it to Tom, he had really caught her off guard. I watched confusion and embarrassment and desire and curiosity play across her face as she struggled to understand what was being proposed. "Your control?"

"Yes. My total control. I must insist on that."

"I... um... yeah, I guess."

"Refer to him as 'Master'" ordered Theresa.

"Yes... Master."

"On your knees."

Janie looked toward me before following the command. I had to look away. Tom and Theresa's faces were expressionless. Finally, Janie lowered herself to her knees. Her face became placid as she gazed up at Tom.

Tom looked at Theresa. Theresa cocked an eyebrow. Tom nodded. Theresa opened her purse and extracted a black leather dog collar and leash. He dangled it in front of Janie. Janie looked up, her face meek and obedient. She took the collar in her hand and fastened it around her neck.

"Does this please you... Master?" she asked quietly.

Tom smiled.

I tried not to start crying again but I just couldn't help it.

***

We turned away from the main concourse and moved down the shabby little corridor deeper into the bowels of the airport. Janie led our little group, her leash held firmly by Tom while Theresa directed her to turn this way or that by barking commands and occasionally swatting her across the ass with a riding crop. Janie squawked a couple of times at being struck but this always eliciting another swat for complaining so she generally kept quiet and followed direction. I brought up the rear, slumping along and feeling miserable.

We reached a scratched and dented metal door bedecked with serious-looking signs in a foreign language. Theresa ordered Janie to halt as Tom fumbled a key out of his pocket and opened the door. We went down a small stair into a big noisy room where a couple dozen coarse, sweaty men manhandled luggage and freight between various mechanical methods of conveyance. The noise quickly fell off in expanding concentric circles as the men stopped their activity to stare at our strange little group.