Lauren's Submission

Lauren's Submission

By Jack Dallen

Introduction

This is a story about Lauren Sterling, a single mother who falls for her long-lost affair and baby daddy, Damian Grayson. It involves themes of power, submission, and eventually incest. All characters are over 18 and consenting. The themes can be taboo and shocking, intended as erotic fantasy, not real-life behavior. Damian is a toxic and powerful alpha male and Lauren's master in this story, and while his behavior here is intended to scratch certain fetish itches, this behavior would be inappropriate and unethical in real life. Don't let someone in your life be a Damian to you.

Lauren Sterling, 41, is a single mother whose daughter, Serena, is leaving for college. At 21, she had an affair with her professor, Damian Grayson, resulting in pregnancy and estrangement from her rich parents. She works as a waitress at Café De La Rue and does freelance editing to pay for Serena's college. She lives above the café in a small Victorian-style apartment in the town of Lisadelle, Illinois. She rents from her boss, café-owner Clara Henshaw. Dating her boyfriend Travis for three years, she's unsatisfied but fears loneliness. Lauren is a six-foot-tall goddess with dusty pale skin and 32HH breasts that are even now only just beginning to sag. Her luscious curves scream "breed me." Her dark, striking features include perfect red lips, powerful blue eyes, and long black eyelashes, with a hint of masculinity that intimidates weak men.

Serena Grayson, 20, is Lauren's daughter by Damian, who abandoned them. Ambitious and bookish, she's moving to Illinois State University for college. Recently sexually active with her first boyfriend, Dave, she's developed quite the appetite for his 6-inch cock. Serena is more petite and bubbly than her mother, at five foot four, with perky C-cup breasts and pointy nipples she often shows off bra-less. She has long light brown, almost blonde hair with rough messy bangs, long legs, and a charming devilish smile.

Professor Damian Grayson, 53, is Lauren's former lover and Serena's father. After the scandal ended his teaching career, he became a ruthless corporate lawyer. Now wealthy and powerful, he's dominant and seeks a submissive wife. He views women as sluts to be used and abused. Damian is six foot four, with broad powerful shoulders, arms, and a deep commanding voice. Despite his age, he's in incredible shape, with a personal trainer, nutritionist, chefs, and a gym. His beautiful big white cock is ten inches long and 8 inches in girth, with a thick uncut head, and he's an expert lover.

...

Chapter 1

Lauren Sterling's eyes blinked open gently, letting in the soft red light that filtered through the curtains of her second-story apartment above the Café De La Rue. She didn't wake up suddenly so much as drift back into consciousness after a sweet and restful slumber. Her pale, dusty curves mingled with the dark red fleece atop her big, low bed and extra-soft mattress. She stretched and cuddled into her blankets with a satisfied smile as she prepared herself for another day. Today was a big one, though she still wasn't quite sure how she felt about it. Serena was going off to college. It was a significant moment in a young woman's life.

Lauren wished she had taken her own studies more seriously, but then, if not for a certain well-endowed law professor, she wouldn't have Serena, her daughter. It had been tough raising a child alone--she'd had to drop out of school, leave Chicago, and move here to Lisadelle. Her family had been scandalized. She had damaged her father's reputation as a Chicago real-estate magnate. Now her daughter was heading to college. Lauren had been only twenty-one when she got pregnant by Professor Grayson; now Serena was twenty. Lauren had worked at the café downstairs to pay the bills and eventually managed to scrape together an arts degree, finishing her studies online. She was planning on turning Serena's room into an office where she could work as a freelance editor. She was lucky that, despite their differences, her parents had still agreed to pay for Serena's tuition.

Lauren swung out of bed and headed to the bathroom. She slept naked. She and Serena had always been close and comfortable with their bodies. Lauren maintained a healthy sex life, and now that her daughter was an adult, she tried to be a sex-positive mother. Serena was her best friend. She looked into the long bathroom mirror. She loved being a tall woman--six feet made her cut an imposing figure. It made it a little harder to find a man who could truly give it to her the way she liked; she wasn't about to get railed by a man shorter than she was. She might be forty-one years old, but her breasts were still perfect, still irresistible, still drawing the eyes of all the men--and many of the women--around her. She loved watching some poor boyfriend get caught peering into her ample cleavage. 32H and still perky, they descended to her thin, muscular waist; her hips were full and rounded, leading down to her peach-like ass. She looked good. Her dusty white skin was perfect, like freshly fallen snow. She combed her long black hair that cascaded straight over her shoulders and did her makeup--dark red lipstick on her full, powerful lips. She had a bit of a resting bitch face, just enough to drive the men crazy while still letting them know they had a shot. She fixed up her long, dark eyelashes and struck a pose in the mirror.

She slipped into a tight but comfortable pair of dark gray yoga pants and a large black Guns N' Roses T-shirt. The drive to Illinois State was only a couple of hours, and it was just her and Serena going. She met Serena downstairs by her Rav4. It was early in the morning, just past six a. m.; the air was cold and heavy, and a thin layer of frost lay over the street. Serena flew down the stairs. She'd inherited most of her features from her father's side--nowhere near her mother's height at only five foot four and far more petite. She was less curvy but just as hot as her mother. Her light brown, almost blonde, straw-like hair was cut just past her shoulders, and she had a cute, mischievous fringe that hung over her sweet, expressive face and deep blue eyes. She was dressed in tight light blue jeans that hugged her round, peachy ass. She showed off her perky C-cup breasts under a white strapless top she wore without a bra, clinging around her chest. Her pointy nipples and the outline of her breasts could clearly be made out under the fabric.

"Hi, Mommy!" she said excitedly.

"Ahhh! College day! You're all grown up," Lauren replied. They were both barely containing their excitement. They packed up Serena's stuff and drove off to her dorm. All the way, they yakked about college, how they'd miss each other, and how they'd call every day. Eventually, the talk turned to college boys and their own boyfriends.

"Yeah, like, no, it's been okay. I mean, Dave's good--he takes care of me. He's incredible at head; like, he's so good with his fingers, and he loves going down there. It's like his favorite thing," Serena said to her mother. They both laughed.

"Okay, so he's good with his fingers, but of all the things to be good at, surely that's the lamest one! How's he in bed properly? Does he, um, get you over the line?" Lauren asked, giggling. Serena flushed red.

"Well, err, I guess not every time? You know, he tries very hard, though--like, it's not like he's not putting in the effort--and he's done it a couple of times," Serena answered, a little embarrassed.

"Oh my God! Do you cum at all from sex?" Lauren probed her daughter.

"Um, yeah, no, sometimes."

"Serenaaa," Lauren teased.

"Okay, like, twice. He's done it twice--the first time, and then last Valentine's, he did it again. It was incredible--ugh, I've been trying to push him again and again, but it's like he's just not enough, if you know what I mean?" Serena conceded.

"Oh, I definitely know what you mean. I think, uh, most dicks have done at least something for me, but I definitely have a preference, and there've been one or two that just didn't cut it. Well, at least he's good with his fingers, honey," she said, patting her daughter's head.

"Whatever, Mom. How's Travis, then? You're not telling me Travis is any better--he's total small-dick energy!" They both laughed. Lauren's boyfriend, Travis, didn't cut a particularly impressive figure, but Lauren found it hard to kick him loose because, more than anything, she was afraid of being alone.

"Ugh, how did I end up with that loser, truly? Travis! Well, he's lucky it doesn't take much. He's not even five inches, Serena--we measured it! He's just a touch under. He can barely even get it hard, and he doesn't love giving head as much as, apparently, Dave does. It's normally just a blowjob for him and the vibe for me," Lauren said, laughing.

"Mom, how can you stand that?" Serena protested.

"Well, you get to a point where sex isn't everything, dear," Lauren said, but even as she did, she knew she didn't sound convincing.

"Mom," Serena asked, a coy tone in her voice, "have you ever, um, had an affair? I know it's a big question--it's just, I'm leaving Dave behind, and, um, college is meant to be a time for experimenting, and..." Lauren cut her off with a squeal.

"My big girl wants some hung college jock dick! You are so grown up, aren't you? I am so proud of you, baby. I'm not going to tell you that," she laughed. "But let me just say, don't be an idiot like I was--make them wear protection! I love you, babe, but you were an accident," she teased Serena.

"God, Mom, you don't have to tell me that every day! But thanks for the advice." It wasn't much longer before the car pulled up at Illinois State, and mother and daughter said their final goodbyes. Lauren turned around and headed back to Lisadelle as fast as she could. She had requested the morning off, but Clara Henshaw was not only her boss but her landlady too, known as much for her generosity to women of a certain body type as for her brutal temper.

...

Lauren slipped into her apron and uniform and started her day waitressing. Clara was, as expected, all passive-aggressive, hinting that Lauren's absence that morning had been the biggest inconvenience in the world. The café wasn't large or all that well-patronized, but it had a steady, loyal clientele. Most of them were nice enough and good customers, but there was the occasional old man who'd try to cop a feel. Clara didn't care as long as it was happening to Lauren and not to her. Lauren tried to work extra hard and smile extra wide to calm Clara down, and by the end of the day, her boss had mellowed.

"You did a good job today, Lauren," Clara said as they were closing. "I think we caught up with everything. Just no more late days for a while, okay?"

"Okay, that's so fair. I'm sorry, Clara--you know I never want to leave you to deal with all of this alone. Serena passes on her goodbyes, and she's sorry she wasn't able to catch you this morning," Lauren said.

"She's a good kid--takes after her mother," Clara replied, giving Lauren's ass a flirty slap. "Now, I'll see you tomorrow!" Clara headed off to the backroom to take care of some paperwork.

Lauren was alone in the front of the café. She locked the door and prepared to head up to her room. Despite some of the nuances of her unique living situation, she liked living in the old Victorian-style, three-story red brick building just off Lisadelle's main street. It was dusty, drafty, and a little decayed, but also elegant and safe--it was home. Lauren headed over to the large glass bay window at the front of the café to close the blinds when she spotted, across the street, dressed in a suit and shaking the hand of another man--also in a suit--someone she hadn't seen for twenty years and never thought she'd see again. There, in the flesh, quite aged but still unmistakably the same man: Professor Damian Grayson. The very man she'd had that scandalous affair with back in college, her old law professor, the father of Serena, the man who had single-handedly stolen her heart and changed her life, then abandoned her, leaving her disgraced and cut off from her family.

She was shocked--so many feelings and thoughts flooded her at once that her head was spinning, and she hadn't had time to process any of them yet. There he was, six foot four, broad-shouldered, clad in a dark, powerful suit. His hair was tinged with gray but still quite dark and thick for a man who must be almost fifty-three, maybe fifty-four now. There he was. God, he still looked hot. Had she really just had that thought? What the hell was he doing here? Could it be a coincidence? Had he tracked her down? She'd gotten by all these years without him--without his support, his love, or his money. What was he doing here now, after all this time? God, the way he stood over that other man--you could see it even from this far away--he was in charge. He was always in charge. Did she just get a little wet? She couldn't stay here. She twisted the curtains shut as fast as she could and took off up the stairs. She half-ran to the second-floor landing, where her trembling hands fished her keys out of her handbag and stumbled into the door lock. She ran straight to her bedroom without bothering to switch on the light and dived into the covers, throwing them over her head. This was too much right now.

...

Lauren Sterling was having trouble sleeping. It was nearly 3 a. m. now. She had to be up to get the café ready to open at 6 a. m. She couldn't pull another late start--she was on thin ice with Clara. She turned over onto her left side. Maybe that wasn't him; it had been such a long time, after all. She turned over to her right side. He might not even be here for her--maybe it really was a coincidence. She lay on her back. She felt hot and not the least bit sleepy. Why should she care anyway? Who was he to her now? She'd done just fine without him--better off without him. Who needed him? She did. Did she just think that? No, not at all. She didn't need him. What about Serena? Had he come for her? It was too late to play the loving father if that was what he wanted. Would that be what Serena would want? She was, for the most part, an adult now--she'd never had a proper father. There had been long-term boyfriends over the years, sure, but none who had ever really embraced the role. Then again, Lauren had raised her on her own--fed, clothed, and housed her. He had provided nothing, and she had asked him for nothing. What right did he have to her now? The thoughts ran around and around in Lauren's head as she finally drifted off to sleep.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Lauren awoke with a shock to the sound of someone bashing at her door. What the fuck was going on? Bang! Bang! Bang! Oh fuck! What was the time? 9 a. m.? Three hours late? Oh fuck, fuck. She couldn't be late right now. Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Coming! Uh, uh, coming!" she called out. Lauren flew out of bed and wrapped her fluffy pink robe around her silky curves. There was no time to brush her hair, so she waved it straight with her hands and launched to answer the door. She barely tied the cord around her as she swung the door open to reveal Clara's red face--she was practically steaming.

"One morning off! One, Lauren! To take your daughter to college. Now look what happens. And after all I've done for you, too. You're taking advantage of my generosity. I mean, who do you honestly think..." Suddenly, Clara stopped talking, and her eyes shot downward. "Umm..."

The hastily tied dressing gown had come undone, displaying Lauren's full and perfect 32H breasts in their entirety. Her perfect curves were emphasized by her snow-white, flawless skin. God, she really did have a perfect rack--there wasn't another pair of tits like them in all of Lisadelle. Teenage boys would often loiter on the sidewalk across the road to glimpse her bending over at work. Clara was practically drooling. Lauren betrayed a sly smile of realization. She bent over just a little, pushing them together and pretending to be oblivious that she was exposed. Clara looked like she was going to have a heart attack.

"Gosh! I'm so sorry. Oh, Clara, you must have been struggling so much with the café all to yourself," she giggled. Clara audibly gasped. "I know I had the day off--I don't know what happened. I had a nasty surprise yesterday, Clara," the words came out like sugar. "A nasty surprise. Can I tell you all about it after work? Can I please? You've been so good to me, Clara--I'm so sorry, and I oh-so-appreciate it. Is it okay if I just get dressed now and come down, and we forget this awful morning ever happened?" Lauren directed the hypnotized Clara.

"Uh, uh, umm..." Lauren closed her robe. "Yes, yes, okay, that is acceptable. Yes, get dressed and come down, and we'll talk about this tonight. Just don't do it again!" Clara turned and went back downstairs in a trance, leaving Lauren to get ready and join her after.

Lauren was having a terrible day at work. No matter what she tried, she couldn't focus on waitressing. Her daughter was off at college, her job was on thin ice, and Damian--out of nowhere! She dropped a plate that morning. Clara didn't say a word to her. Her silence screamed at Lauren louder than any spoken words could. It was a bad start. Later, she messed up two coffee orders in a row--that earned her a snide comment from the cook. Thank God Clara hadn't been around to see that one, but still, she'd hear of it. Lauren didn't want to be here right now--she could hardly cope. She couldn't afford to leave. Clara was not only her boss but her landlady; she had so much power over her, and Lauren couldn't afford to displease her. The customers were really trying her patience, too--fetch this, fetch that, substitute this, take this out. This is cold; this steak is too rare. She was counting down the hours. Phew, finally lunch. Lauren told the cook she was taking her thirty-minute break and headed back upstairs.

She put her pre-made diet frozen stir-fry into the microwave and let it run. God, Damian--so long ago, but she had thought about him often. Despite everything she'd been through because of him, the ways he'd hurt her, he was just so damn sexy. He was such a powerful man and yet, for that whole year, he'd been hers. She'd teased and played with him. She'd been naive back then, though--she'd thought he loved her, that he'd do anything for her, that she could lead him around by his cock. But it became so much more than that--God, his big, beautiful dick and the things he could do with it. He was such a fucking man. There had been that time below the arts building--she'd been helping him with a few course materials to his car. That was right--she used to hide her weed there, leaving it on top of his front tire until she needed it at lunch. It shook him up so much. He was so cute when he was rattled--such a ferocious lawyer, such a powerful man. The few times you could worry or embarrass him were special.

It had been late afternoon--they'd just finished his last class for the day, where Lauren was his student. She'd walked him to his car with the course materials.

"Oh, there it is!" she exclaimed, reaching her hand down into the wheel well and pulling out her little dime bag. She'd thought she was such a badass for that in those days.

"Hey, wait, wait a second. What is that!? You know I can't be seen with that. I'm taking enough of a risk just being seen so much with you. You've got to put that back--no, for real," he said, laughing, but she could see it was making him nervous.

"Oh yeah? You're gonna get in trouble? Can't handle another little secret? So... it wouldn't be okay if I did this, then?" She reached down into the wheel hub and pulled out a little metal grinder and a few small rolling papers.

"No! You seriously cannot do that here. If anyone sees--that's my job! You cannot smoke weed in the car park, and especially not with me." His voice turned more serious now.

"Noooo? Not even a little? I can't just take this bud and grind it up here," she did so, "and just, uh..." She took her small, delicate, pale hands with their long green acrylic nails and began to stroke his bulge through his tight slacks. They concealed nothing at the best of times--even his flaccid dick was bigger than the average man's when hard. Women tended to get poor grades in his class--guys too; his cock was hypnotic. He inhaled sharply.

"No, you seriously--what the fuck are you doing? We could get caught. Seriously, it's my job. Like, no, no, stop grinding. I could lose my job--I can't get caught with drugs."

Her hand drifted over to his zipper as the other began to roll up a joint, single-handedly. She undid him with one quick tug and fished out his rapidly growing dick. His uncut head was already dripping with precum. She rolled her nail around under the foreskin and pulled back a strand of his sticky pre.

"What about this? What about your dick in my hand--your glorious, fat dick? I think it's maybe the biggest I've ever seen," she said with a giggle.

"Oh my God, Lauren, what are you doing?" he said, eliciting a visible shock when she pulled his foreskin over the large head. He was almost at full size now.

"I'm not hearing 'no.' I'm hearing everything but." She gave him a stroke; he gasped. His face was flushed, and his breathing was heavy. She was leaning on the back of his car with him, his dick in her hand, the other getting ready to smoke the joint. They had the car behind them and the brick wall of the car park in front of them, so as long as no one came down this far end between classes, they'd be okay.

"The weed--someone will smell it, someone will..."

She rubbed her nail around his precum-covered head.

"I guess I could stop--put the weed away, stop hiding it under your car--but then I'd also have to stop doing this." She suddenly snatched her hand away from his cock. It had reached its full size now. His cock--how she adored it.

It stood in front of her, an incredible ten inches long--just under the length of a standard ruler or roughly the span of a large dinner plate from edge to edge. Its girth, a robust eight inches in circumference, was as thick as a soda can, giving it a formidable, almost sculpted presence. This was no subtle feature; it was a bold statement--straight as a carpenter's level, unwavering in its alignment, with no hint of curve or compromise. The shaft was strong and muscular, its surface taut like the stretched skin of a ripe watermelon, radiating a sense of coiled power. It was just a little darker than his skin tone and ringed at the base by a masculine, well-maintained bush of hair that did nothing to compromise the impressive display of his size. It pulsed with vitality and allure. Lauren struggled not to drool. It was hard to keep teasing him--hard not to just submit to him then and there, anything for the promise of his cock. His head was well-proportioned and large, taking up almost three inches of his length--he had plenty to spare. God, she'd met men who were only just larger than his head alone.

Lauren was dressed in a tight yellow sundress cut far too low--her own modification--where she wore a variety of chains and necklaces, all designed to draw attention to her incredible rack. She felt like she was doing the men of the world a service; she'd been blessed with one of the most incredible natural chests most of them had ever seen. She paused to light up her joint, then returned her hand to Damian's huge cock. She gave it a stroke. Then she bent down, took the joint out of her mouth for a second, gathered the spit in her mouth, and slobbered all over the tip of his head, making it glisten wet. She stood back up and continued stroking him. She leaned over to Damian and shoved her tits all but in his face.

"You better have a puff too, Professor, hehe," she giggled.

He took the joint in his hands and took a puff. She could barely get one hand around him, but with her other hand free, she was able to get a good grip on his warm, throbbing cock. She started to jerk him off fast all of a sudden. Her technique was perfect--there was nothing like a huge cock in your hand to play with. Fuck, she was bringing him close, and fast.

"Oh my God, I'm gonna--" She drew her hand away.

"Nuh-uh," she said.

"What the fuck, why did you--" He was cut off. She started stroking him suddenly, even faster now. Holy shit, the pleasure building in him was intense--he was gonna explode. Then, just as suddenly, she stopped.

"Hey, now don't fucking--" Then she launched into it again. Now he was really going to fucking blow. That was it--he crossed over the line, his balls tensed up, and his cum began to shoot up from within him.

"Don't st--" She drew her hand away.

"Oh my fucking--" His cock paused for a second; he looked down at his massive member standing there, twitching like an ivory tower. Then it began to shoot cum, hard and fast. There was so much of it. It shot straight up into Lauren's face--it soaked her completely. Lauren purred. They heard a rustle behind them. Lauren looked over.

"I don't know who you are, but take a good look--this is what a man's cum looks like."

Somewhere during that memory--she wasn't sure exactly when--Lauren's hands had found her clit. Her orgasms came crashing over her. Oh my God, she was due back ten minutes ago! Twice in one day! She came flying back down the stairs and back to waitressing tables. She flew right past Clara's cold, pissed-off face. It was worse that, for the moment, her boss hadn't said anything about it at all. In fact, she barely spoke to her the rest of the shift. Soon, the lunch crowd dwindled to the last few dregs, who themselves dwindled down to nothing, and Lauren and Clara closed up. Lauren knew they'd planned to meet and talk about things after work, so she was surprised when Clara suddenly said,

"Don't come see me tonight--I'm going out. You can come see me tomorrow, maybe. Be here on time tomorrow." Clara's tone was cold, measured, and passive-aggressive. Lauren knew she'd really messed up this time.

Her first day without Serena, and she was already barely coping. After dinner, she managed to squeeze in a quick phone call with her daughter. She was doing well--she was having fun. Lauren was here alone with a problem she didn't know how to tell Serena about. She needed her daughter's support more than ever. It was getting late, almost ten p. m. She should probably head to bed. There was a knock at the door--not like the one earlier; it was firm but almost a little unsure of itself, a little more considerate. She threw on her dressing gown and went to answer the door. The second surprising visit today. There, in front of her in the doorway: Damian Grayson.