Another Impossible Trick
Story by draconicon on SoFurry
A sequel to the earlier story, The Impossible Trick ( https://www.sofurry.com/view/975383 ), we have this story commissioned by reyoelgatubelo that follows up on it, bringing in another member of the family. Disclaimer: NOT MY VIEWS!
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[b][u][center]Another Impossible Trick
For Rayoelgatubelo
By Draconicon[/center][/u][/b]
Fatima waited for the crowd to pass before making her way across the university’s grounds. The breeze was pleasant, sufficient to blow around the edges of her abaya without disrupting it, and it helped keep her cool.
Then again, much of this country was cooler than her home. The sun didn’t blaze with the intensity that it did there, and her hijab was more of a means of keeping her warm than a means of keeping her covered. It was a soothing change, in its own way.
[i]But that does not mean we can relax our standards, at any time,[/i] she thought as she made her way towards the female dorms. Her walk was measured and calm, as any lady’s should be, rather than the frantic dashes she had seen other parents make across the grounds during her arrival. Regardless of whether her husband was with her or not, she would act as a lady, and a proper one at that.
She thought back to the reason why she was here, thinking of her daughter, Aminah. Tales of...promiscuity, of removing her hijab and being with one of the Americans here…
Fatima shivered. Her husband had been too close to denouncing their child at the first story, but she had been able to convince him to relent at the time, saying that it was likely tall tales from people that wanted to shame anyone unlike them. He had taken back his word.
But then the tales had come again, and again, and each time she had shielded her husband from the stories. Fatima did not wish to believe her daughter was throwing away her heritage, where she had come from, her faith, but the stories were getting worse with every telling.
She’d decided, then, to come to the university and learn the truth for herself. Aminah would not lie to her in person, and it would save the confrontation between father and daughter for the future.
As she stepped through the doors of the women’s dorms, she looked for some sort of guide. Lacking a reference sheet or chart, she walked over to a more professional looking woman talking with some new students.
“Pardon me.”
The lady turned, pausing for a moment - as most of the westerners had, at her way of covering herself - before smiling.
“Sorry. How can I help you?”
“I’m looking for my daughter. She’s studying here, and I believe she’s staying in this building. Could you help me?”
“What’s her name?”
“Aminah.”
“Oh, yes. Her. She’s near the far end of the first floor, second to last door on the right.”
“Thank you.”
Giving a slight bow of her head, she started walking down the hallway. At least that one had been friendly enough, and not merely assumed the way things were. The registrars had immediately assumed she was Aminah’s mother based on the hijab alone, and while they were right, the assumption had galled. Lumping people together based on a faith was…
She let it go. It wasn’t worth being that angry about.
Fatima walked and walked, past many closed doors and several open ones. Most of them were girls that were studying, or airing out their rooms in the - to them - warm weather. The only one that gave her pause was one that was slightly cracked, and then only because of certain...sounds...that should have been between a man and women alone. Not…
[i]I will have to report that,[/i] she thought. Not entirely out of regret, either. There were certain lines of conduct that one shouldn’t cross, regardless of faith.
Finally, she reached her daughter’s door. In their own home, she would have knocked, but this was a place away, a place where her daughter would be secure. She should move in quickly, to have a chance of controlling the situation. She turned the knob, stepped in -
“Aminah!”
Her eyes went wide at the sight of her daughter kissing a young man. She was rooted to the spot, staring as the kiss continued despite her shout. Her mouth agape, she turned to shut the door, not wishing to share her family’s shame with anyone else.
By the time she turned around again, the kiss had finally broken. Her daughter looked dazed, almost...drugged? Yes, that had to be it. Her poor Aminah had been taken advantage of. She rounded on the American, her eyes narrowing at him.
“What have you done to my daughter?”
“Me? I’ve done nothing. I’ve simply shown her a few tricks. Like swallowing large sausages.”
“She is not married to you. Such things -”
“Are quite happily mine to demand. She’s such an exotic thing, isn’t she? Not at all unlike you, for that matter.”
“I am covered appropriately; there is nothing you can see to say such a thing.”
“For now you are; but what if I were to -”
“If you so much as move, young man, I will call for someone. We will be shamed, but you will suffer the fate of a rapist.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, but Fatima held her ground. Her daughter still showed no indication that she knew what was going on; how deep into this stranger’s drugs had she fallen? How intoxicated was she?
[i]My poor Aminah…[/i]
Suddenly, the boy smiled.
“Perhaps we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. Let’s start off with introductions, shall we?”
She slowly nodded.
“My name is Tom. And you?”
“Fatima is my name.”
“Lovely! And we both know your daughter. Fuckslut.”
“I beg your pardon?! Her name is -”
“And I don’t think I like Fatima. I will have to think of a new name for you.”
“You insolent -”
“Fuckslut, shut her up for a moment.”
And before Fatima could say or do anything, her daughter was flying across the room. In a move of surprising strength, Aminah threw her down to the floor and pinned her, sitting on her chest in a way that kept her from leveraging any strength of her own. She coughed as her daughter’s hand pushed down on her throat, keeping her from even breathing regularly.
All the while, Tom smiled on the bed.
“You see, there’s more to life than you know. For example, most people would think getting a snooty Saudi girl into bed with you would be impossible. Yet, I found a way to pull off that particular trick. But even more people would say that it’d be impossible to get that same Saudi girl to, say, fuck her mother.”
Fatima’s eyes went wide, and she looked back up at her daughter. Aminah looked back without any emotion on her face. No sign of understanding, no sign of anything...but a simple four-pointed star glowing on her forehead.
[i]What -[/i]
“Fuckslut. Strip your mother, and then strip down yourself. I want you to take her over the edge and back, twice.”
It was less stripping and more simply ripping the clothes off. Fatima was too shocked - and too weak - to stop her daughter, and soon the hijab and abaya were gone, leaving her in little more than her underthings. Aminah was merciless, yanking her legs up in the air to rip her panties off, and then breaking her bra, leaving her breasts to flatten against her chest without their support.
Fatima backed up towards the door, but for some reason, it wouldn’t open. She twisted and turned at the knob, but it didn’t respond. All she could do was stare as her daughter pulled off her clothes, quickly, efficiently, and threw them in the corner.
Then, as quickly as she’d stood, Fatima was thrown down again, screaming before she was hushed by a hand over her mouth. Her daughter loomed over her, squatting between her spread legs, and Fatima realized that they were almost touching. The taboo of incest, something she’d never even thought of, was so close to becoming a reality.
Aminah lowered herself, and started grinding. As soon as they touched, she felt her daughter’s slickness, a wetness that she hadn’t felt from anything - even herself - for more than a decade. She bit her lip, turning away. She couldn’t fight, but she would be damned if she would watch her daughter disgrace herself, disgrace the both of them.
“Ah ah ah.”
A flash filled the corner of the room where Tom sat. Suddenly, a furred grip wrapped around her head, forcing her to look back at her naked daughter, at the way Aminah’s breasts rose and fell with every bounce and grind, and she shuddered.
It was getting worse. Every time that her daughter slid along, grinding their sexes together, Fatima could feel herself responding. She didn’t want to; she wanted nothing more than to push her daughter away, to call rape down the hall and beg for help.
But instead, she was pinned, forced to take it as her daughter ground against her, their pussies - such a dirty word - getting wetter, slicker. She felt her nether lips part now and then, and when her daughter’s hip bone pressed against her just right -
“AH!”
“Heh, it feels good, old woman, doesn’t it? It feels right.”
“No! This is wrong!”
“Tell me that in a few hours.”
Fatima shivered, trying to close her eyes as she started to cry. She tried to ignore it, tried to put her mind somewhere else…
But some sinful part of her found it too good. Her body was already tensing up, the soft feeling of her daughter’s pussy rubbing up against her, grinding from her lips to her clit and back again, driving her nuts. She could feel her own juices running down between her legs, off of her other hole before dribbling down to the carpet. It was so...dirty.
She bit her lips, trying to fight it, but there was nothing she could do but muffle the moans as she went over the edge the first time. Her pussy clamped down on empty air, spasming as it was pushed into an orgasm that it wasn’t used to having.
“The first in some time, I imagine. Let’s see how long it takes you to break…”
#
In three hours, Fatima had forsaken all dignity. She panted as she was held pinned by her daughter, a wet, glistening snatch above her head, and three fingers buried in her pussy. Her daughter rolled her hips, Aminah grinding her pussy against her face, dripping into her mouth and bumping her nose with every slow slide.
She’d cum four times, and she could feel the fifth one building. She groaned, glaring past her daughter towards the boy that had started all this.
Boy. That was the wrong word. Beast, was the proper one. He glowed like a demon, covered in fur with tails that were too dexterous by half. He started this. He had caused this…
And she could do nothing to stop him as he leaned over her face.
“You’re learning now. You know I can do impossible things, yes?”
She slowly nodded.
“Then let’s do one more impossible thing. I’ve always been curious about a harem. Let’s start with the two of you. [i]Orete![/i]”
The shouted word slammed into her like a hammer to her skull. All thoughts, all words, disappeared. She went limp, her eyes staring up as a similar four-pointed star seemed to fill her vision, only to press against her forehead. A voice, as if from far away, whispered to her.
“[i]Stand and serve…[/i]”
And as her daughter moved to follow the order, so did she.
[b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b]