Mother's Day was just around the corner. It was such a lovely little holiday; little children doing whatever they could to please their beloved mothers. Oh, but Regina did that every single day, like a tireless, obedient doll. She had pretty, poseable limbs that her mother twisted and manipulated to suit her needs. It was such a tiresome game, but it was one Regina refused to forfeit. After all, life was one grand game of chess, and she was her mother's favorite pawn. She always stood proudly before the Queen, waiting for the day when she would be allowed to turn into something more.
But, Mother's Day was a more pressing issue than any of Regina's own complexes and psychological hang-ups. She knew that lamenting her own feelings of inadequacy and complete lack of control over her own life would only lead to trepidation and tears. And she could just hear her mother's authoritative rumble of a voice in her ear, "proper ladies don't cry." Regina hadn't cried in front of her mother since she was six. She remembered the day clearly, and ever since she saw the disappointed look on her mother's face in the wake of her tears, she resolved to keep all future outbursts for her pillow. She shook her head, the grip on the book in her hands tightening as she thought about ways she could please the Queen of the chessboard on Mother's Day.
Speak of the devil, of course, and the devil shall appear. The moment Regina let her mind wander, she felt her mother's possessive hands grip her shoulders. The touch sent a cold shiver slithering up Regina's spine, and she could no longer focus on anything, much less the words on the page in front of her that she was supposed to be studying . The words seemed to jumble together, and paragraphs seemed miles long. Her gaze unfocused, and with a deep breath she turned her head, looking up at her mother imploringly.
Regina asked innocently, biting her lip as her mother gazed down upon her. It felt predatory, and she always wondered if her mother secretly had fangs and claws that would one day tear her into little tiny pieces.
"Do you know what day it is tomorrow, dear?"
The grip on her shoulders tightened, squeezing and oh, did her pulse quicken at the action. There was no way her mother could touch her that would ever feel calming, or loving. Every brush of a hand, every peck of her lips was domineering. It was as if they were merely meant to keep her in line, and the mere thought (and just maybe, the truth of it) made Regina want to run.
But she stayed put, desperately trying to keep her composure beneath her mother's critical gaze.
"Y-yes," don't stutter, she reminded herself, a lady speaks clearly, and with purpose, "Yes. It's Mother's Day tomorrow."
She did her best to smile, hoping her response was satisfactory. It was so hard to tell, because Cora's face gave absolutely nothing away. It was almost deadpan, had it not been for the almost judgmental raise of her eyebrows.
"Correct. Tell me, darling, what do you plan on getting me for Mother's Day?"
That, Regina did not have an answer to. Last year, she attempted to hone her artistic talents, and painted her mother a portrait. It was well-received, and she was praised for her talents, and the piece hung in the anteroom. She couldn't paint her something again, because her mother would no doubt stick her nose up at it and say, you've already done that as a gift, darling.
"I'm afraid I don't know yet, mother."
Their eyes still locked, and Regina searched for any sort of emotion in her mother's brown eyes. She almost hated how similar their eyes were. She couldn't help but shudder in revulsion at the idea of any similarity between them.
"Well, you'd best figure it out, hmm? I'll be expecting you when I wake up in the morning, as always. I'd best see a present in your hands."
Cora leaned down, capturing Regina's lips in a light kiss. Their kisses always lasted far too long. Regina counted the seconds, one ,two, three, four—every second she spent with her lips pressed gently against her mother's. It felt terribly wrong, too intimate, but there was no pulling away. That grip on her shoulders made sure of that. Five, six, seven, eight—Cora's teeth sank into the sensitive skin of her bottom lip. Regina's heart began to pound, recklessly throwing itself about in her chest it seemed, slamming against her ribcage and she was terrified it might break through. She imagined her heart bursting from her chest, landing on the floor in a mess of blood and valves, taking final, shaking beats like a fish out of water. Then it would give out, and Regina would die watching it. It was poetic, and almost beautiful, and it was what Regina chose to focus on as her mother tugged her lip with her teeth before pulling away.
"Do not disappoint me, my dear."
Regina watched her walk away, shamefully admiring the grace with which she moved; hips swinging effortlessly, footfalls even and measured. She watched in awe-struck silence, licking her lips, tasting Cora on them.
Her mother tasted like temptation.
Regina bit her lip, and turned back to her reading. She had the entire day to think of the perfect gift, and she couldn't lose valuable study time, lest she be punished.
Regina hadn't slept a wink that night, instead she tossed and she turned, mind reeling with anxieties. She had decided (perhaps it was bad idea…) to give her mother something simple for Mother's Day. After all, it was always the thought that counted. Of course, Cora had never given Regina a simple birthday present. She'd always been showered with gifts, gowns and jewels, and her mother's reassuring smiles whenever her daughter expressed concern with how expensive the gifts were.
"Only the best for my little girl," she was always told, and she was reminded of how much she loved the way Cora treated her on her birthday.
Today wasn't her day, Regina reminded herself, and she busied about the kitchen with purpose. The tray on the counter was filled with a plate of her mother's favorite breakfast foods, cooked by Regina herself. She had almost undercooked the eggs, and almost burnt the sausage, but the result looked edible. She added a small rose she had picked from the garden as the finishing touch. Now was the moment of truth, and with a deep breath she picked up the tray. She thought about dropping it, watching all her hard work fall to the floor in a heap of crumbs and grease. It was such a masochistic thought process, but she couldn't help it. Torturing herself mentally was becoming almost a hobby these days. She climbed the stairs carefully, keeping her steps light. Cora always scolded her when her footfalls were heavy.
Regina nudged her mother's bedroom door open with her foot, entering the dimly lit room with a smile on her face. Her mother was sitting up in bed, running her long fingers through her hair. She noticed Regina, and her gaze fell on her and her face seemed to light up for a split second, Regina wondered if she had merely imagined it.
"What's all this, my love?"
Cora waved a hand at the tray, beckoning for Regina to bring it to her.
"I wanted to do something simple this year. I…thought breakfast in bed would be nice."
Regina was suddenly very unsure of herself, and with shaking hands she placed the tray in Cora's lap. She watched the woman's face as she appraised her breakfast with pursed lips.
"Oh, dear. You made all my favorite foods. This is so lovely."
She reached up, pulling Regina down into a kiss. It was a mere peck, and Regina didn't count the seconds this time. She sat on the edge of the bed, watching her mother eat, beaming with pride at her achievement. She'd done it, she'd pleased her mother on the one day of the year that she insisted was meant to be all about her. Regina remembered when she was a young child, sitting in her mother's lap one Mother's Day morning.
"Is there's a little girl's day?"
She remembered asking, voice small and filled with curiosity. Cora had only smiled, brushing loose strands of hair behind her ears, and kissing her forehead.
"Every day is little girl's day, sweetheart. Mother's Day is the one day of the year that's just for mommy."
Ever since then, Regina had sworn to make each and every holiday special. She promised with handwritten cards, messy inkblot hearts on parchment, portraits in her mother's likeness, and now breakfast in bed.
Her mother put down her fork, wiping the sides of her mouth daintily with her napkin.
"That was delicious," she said, smiling warmly at Regina. That look made Regina weak in the knees, and she flushed bright red at her mother's praise.
"It was nothing, I just wanted to make you happy."
It was the truth, and Regina knew she could never deny it. Regardless of the punishments and too-long kisses and hours she had to spend studying things she didn't care about, at the end of the day all she wanted was her mother to smile at her. Cora put the tray aside, reaching out and stroking Regina's cheek with her fingertips.
"You always make me happy. And so proud. Oh, darling you're blossoming into such a lovely young woman."
Cora's eyes raked hungrily over Regina's form, and she suddenly felt too exposed in her thin little nightgown.
She mumbled, looking down as Cora cupped her cheek.
That term of endearment drove Regina up the wall. It made the pit of her stomach do backflips, it made her blush reach her neck.
"There is one more thing I would like for Mother's Day."
Regina looked up, cocking her head to the side. What else was there to give?
"What is it?"
Cora had a wicked glint in her eye as she spoke,
Regina felt that all-too familiar shiver run up and down her spine. It was relentless, and she felt chilled, but so hot. Her…mouth? Did she want a kiss? Her innocence was shining, and Regina tried to keep the handful of romance novels she'd read out of her head.
"M-my mouth? Do you…want a kiss?"
Regina was about to pucker up, but Cora only laughed, pulled her closer and into her lap. She threaded her fingers in Regina's hair, smoothing tangles as ran her fingers through soft, black tresses.
"So innocent, my little bird."
Regina trembled, twitching about in Cora's lap. She felt far too nervous, too unsafe in her mother's embrace.
"I want you to do a very special thing for me, and you have to use your mouth."
Cora 's words dripped with all the bad intentions in the world, and Regina couldn't stop remembering those romance novels, and how strong, heroic men used their dirty mouths on their damsels in distress. Surely her mother couldn't want that…?
"How special is it?"
She asked, terrified of the answer, but eager for it. She was hanging on her mother's every word, like an eager little bird.
"Very special. Not even your father does it."
Cora moved Regina out of her lap, throwing the covers off her. She smiled at her, but it wasn't the warm smile she'd bestowed upon her after she'd finished her breakfast. It was more of a smirk, a seductive little smirk that made Regina's throat dry. She watched at Cora hiked her nightgown up her hips, exposing so much skin.
"I want you to put your pretty little head between my legs. It would make me so happy."
Cora let her legs fall open, and with a hard swallow, Regina took notice of the fact that she was not wearing undergarments. Her mother gave a come hither gesture, curling her finger and pointing down towards the apex between her thighs.
"Show me how good my little girl can be."
Regina licked her lips, wondering if this was just another exercise to test her willingness to obey. The idea that her doing this…act with her mouth would make her mother happy was more than enough to propel her to listen. She got on her knees, crawling towards her mother and settling between her legs.
"Tongue and lips, baby."
Cora urged, reaching down and taking fistfuls of Regina's hair and forcing her face closer to her wet cunt. The smell of sex was intoxicating, and Regina inhaled it eagerly, like an addict desperately trying to get a fix. Her mouth watered, and she relied on whatever instinct she had as she stuck her tongue out. Her mother was so wet and hot, all glistening folds and a taste so addling Regina felt her head spin. She let her tongue drag up and down those folds, flicking against her mother's clit, and oh, she was rewarded with a breathy little moan. Cora's grip on Regina's hair tightened, and her hips bucked against her face. She gave complete attention to her clit, flicking and curling, quickly gaining her footing in this endeavor.
"That's it," Cora moaned, "that's my good little girl."
Regina closed her lips around Cora's clit, sucking hard, pleased that her mother was enjoying her other present. She loved the way her mother's back arched, the perfect bow of her back and the steady movements of her hips. Her mother was an enigma, and one that Regina was one step closer to understanding with each suck and each swipe of her tongue.
"You're such a good girl for mommy,"
Every word of praise made Regina bolder, and she let her tongue travel down, teasing her mother's entrance. She spread her with her fingers, barely managing to stifle a moan as she touched her, and dipped her tongue inside her. Cora gasped, arching even further off the bed as Regina curled her tongue, retracting and repeating, a torturous rhythm that brought her teetering over the edge. She dug her nails into Regina's scalp, and her little girl groaned in pain against her. The little sound was enough to do her in, it was enough to throw her over the edge and send her spiraling into orgasm, hips bucking hard against Regina's face.
Cora slumped against the bed, releasing her grip on Regina's hair. Regina was stunned, licking her wet lips, sitting up slowly and looking up at Cora, mouth wet, cheeks flushed and oh, she'd never looked more beautiful. She crawled up Cora's body, kissing her hard on the lips, counting the seconds—one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten—
"Happy Mother's Day, mommy."