The Beekeeper’s Daughters, Chapter 5

  • Posted on January 24, 2022 at 3:10 pm

by BlueJean

I was woken by the noisy cockerel who lived on the neighbouring farm, as I was most mornings. I dragged myself out of bed and went downstairs to be greeted by an odd sight.

Having consumed more than her share of wine, Sadie had spent the night on our couch and was sound asleep, a quilt half-covering her nakedness.

Millie was seated on the floor, stroking her teacher’s hair and softly singing a strange lullaby.

Rest tired eyes a while
Sweet is thy baby’s smile
Angels are guarding and they watch o’er thee

Sleep, sleep, grah mo chree
Your sorrows we do see
Angels are guarding and they watch o’er thee

The birdeens sing a fluting song
They sing to thee the whole day long
Wee fairies dance o’er hill and dale
For very love of thee

I hadn’t taught her that song. Perhaps Sadie had at school.

Was Millie sleepwalking again? I was getting increasingly worried about her. She was saying and doing strange things and I had no idea where it was all coming from.

“Sleep, my daughter,” Millie whispered, still gazing at Sadie.

When I put my weight on the squeaky stair, Millie turned toward me.

“I wasn’t doing anything wrong, Mummy,” she said, her face half concealed in shadow.

“I didn’t say you were, sweetie. Who taught you that nice song?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

Millie shook her head. She reached out to gently poke Sadie’s cheek, then giggled.

“Don’t poke your teacher, you don’t know where she’s been,” I said, pulling back the curtains.

“Who’s poking who?” Sadie mumbled, struggling to open her eyes.

“Miss Laine, why did you sleep on our sofa last night?” Millie asked.

“I had too much lemonade, Millie Newton,” Sadie groaned.

Freya came down the stairs and gave me a sheepish look. I wasn’t sure how much she had seen or heard last night, but knew that we would need to have a talk about it at some point.

“Good morning, elder daughter,” I said to her as she shuffled towards the kitchen.

“Uh, morning,” she replied without looking back at me.

“What’s up with her?” Sadie said as she sat up and wrapped the quilt around her nude body. Her clothes were in a pile on the floor.

“Freya’s always grumpy in the morning,” Millie explained.

“Mum!” Freya shouted from the kitchen.

“Yeah?” I called back.

“Bee’s done a poo on the kitchen floor!”

“Oh, lovely,” I said and headed into the kitchen.

Bee was lying on the floor sphinx-like, her ears pricked up, mesmerised by the turd three inches in front of her.

Freya recoiled as if it was going to rear up and attack her. “I’m not cleaning it up! I don’t do poo!” she declared.

Sadie and Millie came into the kitchen to see what all the fuss was about.

“All right, relax, it’s only… hold on…” I moved closer to the offending deposit.

If it was poo, it was certainly the spikiest one I’d ever seen. I looked closer.

“Oh, my goodness. It’s a baby hedgehog,” I said.

“Is it?” Freya said and stepped closer to the spiky little ball.

I figured that Bee must have very gently picked it up from outside when Millie had let her out into the garden for her morning ablutions, then carried it into the kitchen where it sat curled up in a defensive ball.

“Ahhh, it’s so cute!” Millie gushed, squatting down to get a good look at the poor creature.

“Aww, where’s its mum?” Sadie said.

“Take it outside and put it under the hedge, Millie. We’ll leave it some water and a bit of dog food, and hopefully it’ll find its way back to its mother,” I said. Millie carefully picked up the hedgehog and carried it out into the garden.

After Sadie had got dressed and taken some Alka-Seltzer for her inevitable hangover, she headed home, then the girls and I went out for our morning walk across the fields and through the woods.

The morning mist had left pearly drops of moisture hanging upon spiderwebs, their shimmering gossamer threads draped between the bushes and trees. The call of a red deer stag marking out his territory roared in the distance somewhere.

While Millie was off exploring in the forest with Bee, I decided that this would be a good time to have a little chat with Freya.

“Do you want to talk about last night?” I began.

“What do you mean?” Freya said, kicking a pine cone across the ground.

“I know you were watching Sadie and me. I could see you.”

“Did Miss Laine see me, too?” Freya asked, looking mortified at the thought.

“No, I don’t think so.”


“So why were you watching us?” I asked her.

“I just… I heard noises and wondered what you were doing, that’s all,” Freya told me, her face flushed a bright pink.

“Were you shocked when you saw us?”

Freya shrugged. “Yeah, a bit, I suppose.”

“But you enjoyed watching, right?” I said, wondering if I really needed to be asking her that.

Freya nodded. She picked up the pine cone and pretended to inspect it to hide her embarrassment.

“I don’t think your teacher would appreciate one of her pupils watching her masturbate,” I said, but I wasn’t so sure that was true.

“Sorry,” Freya said.

I put my arm around her. “But I don’t mind if you want to watch me.”

Did I actually just say that? Why did I say it?

Freya looked up at me. “Really?”

“Really,” I said and squeezed her shoulder. Too late to take it back now.

“Really really?”

“Really really.”

“Really really really?!”

“Really really really!” We both laughed.

I looked at her and made a decision. A bad one, probably. “Why don’t you come to my room tonight when Millie’s asleep and I’ll let you watch me again.”

“Okay, then,” Freya said and did that embarrassed little chuckle through her nose.

Me and my big mouth.

Millie and Bee came crashing through the ferns.

“Mummy and Freya! Come and look at what we found!” Millie shouted, and we followed her into the trees.

She led us to a patch of forest that was covered in cup-shaped mushrooms, orange on the outside and a deep red within. They were called scarlet elf cups, I remembered, although I thought they only grew in the winter months and early spring.

“Wow, good find,” I said to Millie, bending down to inspect the brightly coloured fungi. I put Bee on her lead in case she tried to sample the mushrooms. I was pretty sure they weren’t poisonous, but they probably wouldn’t do her much good either.

That’s not what I wanted to show you, Mummy. Look!” Millie exclaimed, and I walked over to where she was pointing.

Hidden amongst the trees was some kind of structure made of grey, weathered stone, half-destroyed but still recognisable.

“What is it, Mum?” Freya asked me.

“It’s an old fireplace. I think someone must have lived here once,” I said, amazed.

I had a look around. The rest of the building was long gone, but as I cleared away some of the ferns and brambles, I found the remains of four corner posts that had mostly been eaten away by rot, but were still protruding a couple of inches above the ground. The hut had been very small, probably just a single room, and I guessed the walls would have been made from wattle and daub, which would have decayed long ago.

“Goodness me, a hut in the woods. How mysterious!” I said, intrigued. Who could have been living out here in the forest?

“Mum, Millie’s acting weird again,” Freya said, gesturing towards her sister.

Millie had placed her hands on the remains of the fireplace and had zoned out.

“Millie?” I said to her, and she turned to me with a startled look.

“She just made medicine for sick people, Mummy. She didn’t hurt anyone. She didn’t,” Millie told me, clearly distressed.

Not knowing what else to do, I knelt down and took her face in my hands. “Millie, come back to us.”


“You’re scaring Mummy. I don’t know where you keep going but I need you here with me, okay?” I told her.

“Okay,” Millie said, her eyes solemn.

“No more deer hugging or Dryads,” I said and tweaked her nose, trying to lighten the mood.

“Someone left flowers,” Freya said and pointed inside the fireplace.

Someone had indeed left an offering, and recently. The bunch of flowers were dried and shrivelled, but couldn’t have been more than a few weeks old. I didn’t want to think about who had left them or why, I just wanted to be away from this place.

“Let’s go home,” I said to the girls and we left the ruined hut and its mysteries behind.


Mum sent Millie and me up to the shops to buy bread, milk and some eggs and so we took a shortcut through one of the fields where some farm workers were busy making bales of hay. Last year, Mum and Miss Laine had helped with the hay making, hoofing the heavy bales while Millie and me sat on the back of a big trailer that was being pulled around by a tractor.

We waved to the workers and they waved back.

It was another hot day and I had my sunhat on but Millie had brought her little pink and white parasol instead, to keep her shaded from the sun.

“Millie, can you keep a secret?” I asked my sister as we climbed over a stile and headed towards the village green.

“Yeah, I’m really good at keeping secrets. Except that one time I told Mummy about you flashing your kitty, but you didn’t say that was a secret so it doesn’t count.”

I was dying to tell someone about what I had seen and Millie was probably the only person I could almost trust. “I saw Mum and Miss Laine doing rude things last night,” I told her. Telling secrets was so satisfying.

“What sort of rude things?” Millie asked me.

“They were touching themselves in front of each other.”

Millie looked at me suspiciously. “Are you telling lies?”

“No, I’m not, I swear. Mum had no trousers on and Miss Laine had her skirt pulled up and they both had their knickers down.”

“Did you see Miss Laine’s kitty?”

“Not really, her leg was in the way, but they were touching their kitties and saying rude things to each other.”

“Wow, I wish I’d seen it too,” Millie said, twirling her parasol.

“But that’s not even the best bit. Mum saw me watching and I thought she’d definitely tell me off, but she didn’t. Well, not really. She just said Miss Laine wouldn’t like me spying on her. But then — and I’m not lying here, okay? — Mum said I could watch her touch herself again if I wanted.”

I didn’t want to tell her that I’d be doing it that night, because I knew she wouldn’t go to sleep and probably even follow me to Mum’s room.

“That’s not fair. Why can’t I watch, too?” Millie said, pouting.

“You’re not old enough really, but one day Mum might let you,” I told my sister and felt very mature for saying it.

“It’s still not fair,” Millie said. I hoped she wouldn’t sulk for too long.

The post office was the only shop left in the village and Mum said that it had to start selling all kinds of different things otherwise it wouldn’t be able to make enough money to stay open anymore. The post mistress, Mrs. Jeffries, was a roly poly lady (Mum says it’s not nice to call people fat) who was really funny and friendly but always had something wrong with her and liked to tell everyone about it.

“‘Ello girls! Come to pinch all my stuff, have you?” Mrs. Jeffries said as we entered the shop.

Millie giggled.

“Hi, Mrs. Jeffries, how are you?” I said, then remembered that asking Mrs. Jeffries how she was is not a good idea. Well, it was too late now.

“Been shitting through the eye of a needle all day, I have! Bloody venison last night went straight through me, it did. I said to Mr. Jeffries it would. ‘Too bloody rich’, I says to him. ‘You know I can’t be eating rich food like that, Jeff’, I says. Shat so much I gave myself a headache, I did!”

“Oh. Sorry to hear that,” I said, trying not to laugh.

And yes, Mrs. Jeffries’ husband is actually called Jeffrey Jeffries. I don’t know what his parents were thinking.

Millie had noticed a canary that was perched in a cage on the shop counter. “Whose bird is this, Mrs. Jeffries?” she asked.

“Oh, it belonged to an old lady that Jeff used to do some work for, but she died so he brought it back home,” Mrs. Jeffries explained.

“Is it yours now, then?”

“I suppose it is, Millie, yeah.”

“Why is it in a cage?”

“It’d fly away if it weren’t, ya daft girl!” Mrs. Jeffries told my sister and laughed.

Millie didn’t find it funny though. “You should let it go. It’s not nice to keep it in a cage.”

“It wouldn’t last a day, Millie. It’s probably never been outside that cage in its life.”

“How much will you sell it to me for?” Millie asked.

“I can’t sell it to you, dear. Mr. Jeffries would be ever so angry with me if I did.”

Millie pulled out the five pound note that Mum had given us for the shopping and offered it to Mrs. Jeffries. “I’ll pay you £5 for it.”

Mrs. Jeffries crossed her arms. “It’s not for sale, my lovely. ‘Ave a bag of sweets instead.”

Millie looked at her little folded parasol sadly, then put it on the counter along with the money. “I really like this umbrella but you can have it and the £5 too for the bird, okay?”

Mrs Jeffries looked like she was at her wits end. “I can’t sell the bird to you, Millie! Be a good girl now.”

“That money’s for the shopping, Millie,” I said to my sister and she looked like she was going to cry.

“Don’t worry, I’ll come back for you soon,” Millie told the canary and then handed me the money. “I’m going home,” she said to me, then stormed out of the shop.

“What’s got into her?” Mrs Jeffries asked me.

“Sorry, she’s been acting weird lately,” I told her.

When I got home with the shopping, Millie was washing Mum’s Beetle with a big sponge. I could barely see her through all the soap bubbles.

“Why’s Millie washing your car?” I asked Mum in the kitchen as she put away the things I’d bought.

“She asked me for little jobs she could do for some pocket money. I even had to haggle with her,” Mum said, pointing to a piece of paper on the worktop.

I went over to take a look. It was done in Millie’s handwriting and read:

1 wash mummies car = £2.20
2 water veggingtables and flowers = £1.75
3 shampoo bee and trim her claws = £1.45
4 hang washing out = £1
5 hoover hole house = £2.50
6 massarge mummy = 80p (Mum got a good deal there)

I knew what my sister was trying to do and I was kind of proud of her. So I helped her hang the laundry out because it was hard for her to reach the washing line, then I held Bee for her while she lathered her with doggy shampoo and cut her nails.

By the time Millie had finished hoovering round the house, she looked absolutely exhausted. I put the hoover away for her and Mum gave her the pocket money she’d earned.

Millie looked at her watch. “I have to go to the post office before it closes,” she said to me.

“You won’t make it in time, even if you run all the way,” I told her. “But I have an idea.”

I took her on my bike, pedalling it up the road as fast as I could while Millie sat in the front basket, her legs dangling over the edge. She was wedged in so tight I wondered if I’d ever be able to get her out.

It took six minutes and forty three seconds to get to the post office. Not quite my best, but if my sister hadn’t been weighing me down I’m pretty sure it would have been a world record. Millie jumped out of the basket and ran into the shop before I’d even brought my bike to a halt.

“Back again, are you?” Mrs. Jeffries said. “I’m closing up now so you’ll have to ‘urry up if you wanna nick all me sweets.”

“Mrs. Jeffries, I brought more money, can I buy your bird now, please?” Millie said excitedly.

“Oh, not this again, Millie. I already told you, I can’t let you buy it!” Mrs. Jeffries told my sister, losing her patience a bit.

“I have £9.70 pocket money,” My sister said, then put the money down on the counter. She pulled some change from her other pocket and dropped it on the counter with the rest of the money. “And however much that is. I think there’s about £2 there.”

“Oh, Millie, dear,” Mrs. Jeffries said, scratching her head.

“It’s more than twice as much as I offered you before. It’s a really good deal for you!” Millie said, looking at Mrs. Jeffries hopefully.

“Please, Mrs. Jeffries. She worked really hard to get all that money,” I said.

Mrs. Jeffries let out a big sigh. “Bloody ‘ell, I won’t be getting any rumpy pumpy when Mr. Jeffries finds out,” she said and waved a hand at us. “All right, you little cowbags, take the bird!”

“Yes!” Millie shouted and jumped up and down in triumph. She put her face down next to the cage and spoke to the canary inside. “You can come home with us now. You’ll like it where we live.”

“Go on then, you pair of bullies, take the bird before I change my mind,” Mrs. Jeffries said, rubbing her temples. “Ooh, I think I’ve got a migraine coming on again.”

“Do you want to count the money?” I said as Millie walked out of the post office with the cage in her arms, cooing softly to the frightened looking canary inside.

“No, don’t worry about that, Freya. Say ‘ello to your Mum for me, won’t you?”

“Yeah, I will. Thanks Mrs. Jeffries,” I said and followed Millie outside.

I took it a lot slower on the way home. Millie sat in the basket with the cage in her lap, humming a little tune to the canary while I made sure not to ride over too many bumps.

When we got home, Millie put the birdcage down on the kitchen worktop. Mum was sitting at the table with her beekeeping books, writing stuff down on a notepad. “We have parasites in some of the colonies, girls. Varroa mites, I think. Need to get rid of them before they take hold.”

The canary chirped and Mum looked up in surprise. “Um… why is there a bird in our kitchen, please?”

Millie looked a bit worried. I don’t think she was sure how this would go. “I bought it from the post office with my pocket money.”

“The post office sells canaries now?” Mum asked.

“It wasn’t really for sale,” I explained. “Mr. Jeffries got it from a dead lady but we asked Mrs. Jeffries to sell it to us.”

Mum just peered at the bird over her glasses.

“I’m going to set it free, Mummy,” Millie said.

“It’ll probably fly away and die if you let it out of the cage, Millie,” Mum told her.

“No, it won’t because I’ll put the cage near the window and open it, and I’ll put some food inside and a nice bed and it can fly around a bit and then come back at night to sleep.”

“And what about Bee?” Mum said.

Bee had her front paws up on the kitchen worktop and was wagging her tail at the little yellow bird.

Millie bent down and had a little chat with the puppy. “Bee? This is Nigel. He’s our new friend and you’re not allowed to eat him, okay?”

I wasn’t sure Bee was convinced. I didn’t think Nigel was a very good name for a canary either, but it was up to Millie, I suppose. And Nigel might have been a girl for all we knew.

“Well, it’s your responsibility, so make sure you take it seriously,” Mum told my sister.

“I will,” Millie replied. She took a half opened bag of bird seed from the cupboard under the sink and sprinkled some onto a little dish, then filled another dish up with some water. She asked me to take them upstairs while she carried the birdcage up to our room and put it on the sill next to the open window. She set the dishes of food and drink down, then slowly opened the cage.

The canary chirped a few times but didn’t move from its perch.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to leave yet,” my sister told the bird softly. “Just take your time and then have a little fly around when you’re ready, all right?”

“It might never want to leave,” I told her.

“It will. It can see the sky from here. Birds love flying through the sky more than anything in the world.”

“If you say so,” I said.


It was just past ten o’clock when Freya poked her head round my bedroom door. The evening was warm and clingy and my window was open wide with the curtains pulled back to let what little breeze there was into my room. I’d retired early and spent the last hour trawling through bits of lesbian porn, slowly working up into a highly aroused state without even touching myself.

I wasn’t sure if she’d come. I thought she might lose her nerve or fall asleep or maybe just assume my invitation was a joke. And part of me thought it would be best if she didn’t turn up, that this wasn’t the kind of thing a mother should be doing with her ten-year-old daughter. But another part of me reassured myself that there was no harm in it, because we were just watching each other, not actually touching.

The truth, though, is that I really wanted this. Ever since that afternoon when I’d spied on the girls in the poppy field, I found myself longing to be closer to them, just as they had grown closer as sisters. I craved the intimacy, even if that meant taking our relationship a bit further than that of parent and child. Was I playing with fire? Probably. But somehow, that didn’t seem to matter like it should.

So there she was, my eldest daughter, standing in the doorway in her pyjamas, cheeks flushed with colour and a look on her face that seemed to be asking, Is this okay, Mum? Is it?

And yes. It was okay.

“Well, hello,” I said to her, smiling.

“Hi,” Freya replied and stuck both arms behind her head, pretending to stretch.

“Are you coming in, then?” I asked her.

She stepped into my room and pushed the door to, not quite shutting it.

“Close it right up. We don’t want anyone else watching, do we?” I said, playfully. I’d certainly got my money’s worth the last time I’d peeked through a gap in the door. The thought of that made me feel even hornier.

“Okay,” Freya said and closed my bedroom door as quietly as she could, then tiptoed over to my bed and climbed aboard. She sat on her heels and let out a nervous little titter.

“Is Millie asleep?” I asked her.

“Yeah, but Bee nearly tried to follow me. I told her to stay, though.”

“Good. Are you nervous about what you’re going to see tonight?”

“I’m a bit nervous, but I’m excited, too. Plus, I already saw you and Miss Laine doing it last night, so I kind of know what to expect.”

“Did you like watching us?”

“Yeah, I went back to my room and touched myself for ages.”

“And now you’re going to get a front row seat! Aren’t you a lucky girl?” I said, poking her with my foot.

Freya laughed nervously. “Are you doing it with your pyjamas on, or are you going to take them off?”

“Hmmm. What do you think would be best?”

Freya shrugged. “It’s hot tonight, so you could take them off.”

“I suppose I could.”

“If you wanted to,” Freya added.

I did want to. I very much wanted to. But I wanted to tease her, too. Teasing was fun.

“I’m not sure if I should. Shall I undo some buttons on my top first and see how we go from there?” I suggested.

“Yeah, okay, if you want,” Freya said, trying to sound as if she wasn’t all that bothered either way. Her eyes said something different, though.

“I don’t have a bra on underneath. Is that okay?” I asked her.

“Uh… yeah, that’s okay. You can… I don’t… yeah, it’s okay. Shall I close my eyes?” Freya replied, flustered.

I chuckled. “You’re here to watch, aren’t you? What would be the point in closing your eyes?”

“Yeah, sorry. Undo your buttons then.”

“That’s better. We have to be brave and tell each other what we want, okay?” I told her.

“All right.”

I undid the first button on my pyjama top, slowly and deliberately, gauging her reaction. “One button…” I said playfully.

Freya stared wide eyed, looking up at me once and smiling bashfully.

The next button. Slowly, slowly. See what her face does. “Two buttons…”

She nibbled her bottom lip and fidgeted slightly.

Another button. Halfway there now. “Three buttons…”

Still biting her lip. Hands in her lap.

“More buttons?” I asked her.

“Yeah, do the others,” Freya told me.

The next button. Slowly, slowly, slowly. Tease them open. “Four buttons…”

A casual scratch between her legs. Was it just a scratch, though?

A fifth button. Just one more remaining. “Five buttons…”

She looked me in the eye. That naughty, defiant expression she gets sometimes.

I gazed back at her and popped the last button through its hole.

Six buttons!” Freya said before I could, then giggled.

I smiled at her. “Shall I… show you my breasts now?” I asked her, trying to tantalise. My fingers were poised upon the lapels, ready to reveal myself.

“Yes, please,” Freya said quickly.

I slowly teased my pyjama top open, the satin material brushing against my hard nipples.

Freya sat there mesmerised as my breasts came into view. “Wow,” she said simply.

“Haven’t seen these for a while, have you?” I said, pushing my tits together.

“The rings around your nipples are quite big,” Freya informed me.

“They’re called areolae,” I told her.

“Areolae,” she repeated, testing out the new word.

I trapped my nipples between my fingers and massaged my breasts. “Your turn to show,” I said.

“Me?” Freya said, pointing to herself.

“No, the other little girl sitting on my bed. Yes, you, silly,” I said with a smile.

Freya fumbled with her buttons, her eyes fixed on my tits as I squeezed and kneaded them. The last button came away in her hand. “Oops,” she said.

“We’ll sew it back on tomorrow,” I told her. “Now let me see you, baby girl.”

Shyly, she slipped her pyjama top off and let it fall onto the bed. Then, looking a little apologetic, she picked it back up and folded it neatly.

I had to chuckle. I’d always taught the girls to fold their clothes up nicely. “You don’t need to do that tonight,” I told her.


I’d seen my daughter in various states of undress before, of course. But never in this context. This was something different. Her chest was mostly flat, but there were the beginnings of something happening there – two little bumps that could have easily been mistaken for baby fat. The first whispers of womanhood. Freya put both arms behind her head to show herself off, and her little nipples stood to attention. She smiled at me. It seemed that some of her inhibitions were beginning to evaporate.

I pushed one of my tits up towards my mouth and licked my nipple. “Can you do that?” I asked Freya.

She stuck her tongue out as far as she could and tried to lick her nipple without success. “No, but I can’t wait until I can!” she said and giggled.

I laughed with her. “You can touch them, though. Give it a try,” I suggested.

She rubbed and pinched at her baby nipples, testing what felt good and what didn’t.

I licked a finger and smeared one of my own bullet-hard nipples with saliva. “Try that.”

She popped a finger into her mouth and deposited it’s wetness upon both her nipples, then went back to rubbing them. “That does feel nice,” she told me.

Hooking a thumb into the waistband of my pyjama bottoms, I raised an eyebrow at Freya. “What now?” I asked, sliding my thumb from side to side underneath the elastic.

“Um… could you take those off, please?” she asked me.

“I might, if you take yours off too,” I said, surprising myself. I hadn’t planned on asking my daughter to strip off, but the memory of that night, when I had stood over her and masturbated as she lay asleep with her knickers round her knees, pushed itself to the forefront of my mind, urgent and insistent. I needed to see her naked again.

Off they came, those little pyjama bottoms, down her legs and over her feet, leaving Freya clad in nothing but white cotton panties. I noticed a little wet patch on the front of them. Someone was getting excited.

I pushed my own pyjamas down, dropping them on the floor, then swung one knee to the side and rested a hand upon the crotch of my panties. They were wet to the touch, my juices having seeped into the fabric as I’d edged myself, waiting for my little girl to arrive.

“Do you recognize these panties?” I asked Freya.

She smiled and nodded. They were the same panties I’d found under her pillow not so long ago. The ones she had fished out of the washing basket. Light blue with a yellow trim. Simple cotton knickers. I found myself wishing that I had sexier panties, nice lacy ones like Sadie wore. Perhaps I’d treat myself sometime very soon.

“They’re very wet and juicy. I expect you’d like to take these to bed with you tonight, wouldn’t you?” I said, running the tips of my fingers across the sodden material.

“I… I wouldn’t mind,” Freya said, eyeing her potential prize.

I slid a hand inside my knickers. “No wonder my panties are such a mess. I’m really wet down here.”

“I’m wet, too,” Freya told me and stuck her hand down her own undies.

“Why don’t you show me?”

Her eyes widened. “Show you my kitty?”

“Call it a pussy. That’s what big girls say.”

“Show you my… pussy?” Should I?” Freya asked me. At the prospect of showing Mummy her private parts, my daughter’s shyness had returned.

“You’ve shown everyone else. I think it’s only fair that your mum gets to have a little peek.”

“I didn’t show everyone,” she said. “Just Millie and some girls at school, and… yeah, just them, I think.”

“Aren’t you going to show me, then?” I said, pouting.

She gave me a huge smile. “Yeah, I’ll show you,” she said. “Ready?”

“Yes, I’m ready,” I said, sliding two fingers through my wet folds inside my knickers.

“Do a drum roll,” Freya said as she gripped the elastic of her crotch, ready to pull it to one side and reveal her treasure.

I tapped out a drum roll on the bed with my fingers and finished it with a ‘tsss’ to emulate a cymbal.

Freya peeled back her knickers in one quick movement. “Ta-da!” she cried, grinning.

“Shhh!” I cautioned, but with a chuckle. “You’ll wake Millie.”

Freya put a hand to her mouth and giggled. “Ta-da!” she whispered.

I stared between my little girl’s legs. Her pussy was smooth and hairless and I could see a film of moisture upon those beautiful puffy lips.

“What a pretty pussy,” I told her.

She spread her legs and looked down, inspecting herself. “Thanks. Do you think I’ll get any hair soon?”

“You will. But it looks nice without hair, if you ask me.”

“Is Miss Laine’s ki— um, pussy hairy?”

“Didn’t you see?”

“Not really, her leg was in the way,” Freya said, making a face.

“Your teacher likes to shave hers, but she does have a little tuft of hair just… here,” I said and pointed just above my pussy.

Freya smiled wistfully. “I’d love to see it.”

“Is Mummy’s pussy not good enough for you?”

“Well, I don’t know until you show me, do I?” Freya said, taking a cheeky tone.

I tucked my fingers into the waistband of my knickers. “Should I take these off, then?”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

“Are you sure you want to see your mum’s pussy? I don’t want to traumatise my poor baby…” I cooed, teasing her.

“Oh, Mu-um! Show me! I showed you mine!” Freya protested.

“Hmm, okay. I suppose I could give you a little look,” I said, and slowly slid those damp panties down my legs. “Close your eyes.”

“Why? You told me not to close them earlier.”

“Just close them. You can open them again in a minute.”

Freya shut her eyes and laid there propped up on her elbows, feet together, knees spread apart, her white panties pulled to one side. She looked so delectable.

I spread my legs wide, the cool breeze from the window caressing my exposed pussy lips. “Now you can open them.”

Her eyes snapped open, then went wide.

“Ta-da!” I trilled. Spreading myself open with my fingers, I treated Freya to a full-on gynaecological view, my hot, pink interior moist and inflamed.

“Wow,” Freya gushed.

“Does it look nice?” I asked her as I pushed my fingers through my wetness.

“Yeah, it’s all meaty and sexy,” she told me.

“Meaty and sexy? I’ll take that, I suppose,” I said, laughing. “Stand up and take your panties off for me, baby. Nice and slow.”

Standing up on the bed, Freya tried her best at sliding her knickers down her legs in a very seductive manner, swaying her hips from side to side in a little dance.

I encouraged her as I played with myself. “Ooh, yeah! What a hot girl!” I was so unbelievably horny, I thought I might come there and then.

Freya pushed her panties over her ankles and kicked them off. They landed on the pillow next to me. I picked them up and brought them to my face. I’d sniffed my own panties a few times, but had never even considered using my ten-year-old daughter’s used knickers as a sex aid. Tonight I was feeling especially dirty, though. I inhaled her aroma, finding it fruity and ever so slightly musky.

“Do they smell okay?” Freya asked me, looking a bit shocked to see her mother doing such a naughty thing with her knickers.

“They smell delicious. Now lay back down and spread your legs nice and wide for me, then Mummy will finger herself for you.”

She lay down on the end of my bed and opened her legs as wide as she could, scraping her knuckles up and down her smooth pussy as she stared at my cunt. “I feel so grown up, doing this with you,” she told me.

“You mustn’t tell anyone though. Not even Millie. This is a secret for big girls,” I said, then slipped two fingers inside myself.

“I won’t tell,” Freya assured me and pushed a middle finger into her vagina, imitating me.

I withdrew my fingers from my cunt and smeared their wetness over my nipples. “I love the smell of my pussy. Can you smell it?”

“Yeah, I really like it,” Freya said to me. “I can’t wait to take your knickers to bed with me later.”

“What a naughty girl. Shall I make them extra messy for you?”

Freya nodded at me and grinned.

I picked my panties up and rubbed my cunt with them, my eyes glued to Freya’s busy hand as she masturbated. “Oh, yeah. Finger that sexy little pussy for me, baby. You’re making Mummy so wet.”

Freya watched me intently as I made a mess of my knickers, her finger pistoning in and out of her pussy so rapidly that I thought she might hurt herself. Her technique was crude, but judging from the look of lusty bliss on her face, it was clearly doing the job.

Spreading myself open, I stuffed my knickers inside my cunt until just an inch or two of the material was left sticking out.

“Oh my God, that’s so rude!” Freya gushed, clearly enjoying my lewdness.

“These panties are going to be so nasty and dirty for you. Is that what you want?” I said as I strummed my clit.

“Yeah, I can’t wait. I’m going to smell them while I hump my pillow and think about licking Miss Laine’s kitty,” my daughter said as she fingered herself.

Putting a hand up to my mouth in surprise, I couldn’t help but laugh at my ten-year-old blurting out her innermost thoughts. That was quite the admission she’d just made. Was this merely a girl crush? Or the beginnings of true lesbian desire?

“What?” Freya asked me, still diddling herself.

“You want to lick your teacher’s pussy?”

My daughter looked a little abashed. “Did I say that out loud?”

“I’m afraid so, poppet. Is that what you want to do to her, then?” I asked her, my fingers returning to my clit.

“I – I dunno. Yeah. A bit. Am I weird?”

“Of course you’re not weird. I’ll bet just about every kid in Sadie’s classroom would like to lick her pussy,” I reassured her, trying to sound serious – but couldn’t stop myself from tittering.

Freya grinned at me. “Oi! Stop laughing! I’m trying to touch my kitty!”

I beckoned her towards me. “Come here and stand over me while you play with yourself. I want to see your pussy up close while I make myself come.”

“Is ‘come’ another way to say ‘orgasm’?” my daughter asked me as she got up and stood over me, her sweet, hairless pussy just a few tantalising inches from my face.

“Yeah, it is,” I said as she slipped her finger back into her cunt. “Oh, sweetie, that looks so sexy.”

“We should do this every night,” Freya suggested as she fucked herself, thrusting her pelvis out towards me lewdly.

“I… I don’t know about that,” I moaned, my climax building; churning inside me, urgent to erupt.

“Well, I think we should. Maybe I could lay on top of you and we could rub our pussies together. I know how to do that.”

“Naughty girl. Such a… oh, Freya! Mummy’s coming!” I groaned, trying to come as quietly as I could so as not to wake Millie. I thrust my hips out, pressed my palm tightly against my cunt and rode the waves of my orgasm, one after another. “Oh, shit… so good…”

Freya sat back down on her heels and craned her neck forward to get a good look at my spent cunt. “Wow, it looked like you really enjoyed that one!”

I opened my eyes and smiled at her. “Do you want to come too, baby?”

She shook her head. “I’ll go back to my room and have one. Then I can take my time… and think about all the rude things we did tonight.”

“Okay, then,” I said, basking in the pleasant afterglow of my orgasm, only half listening to what my little girl was saying. “You should go back to bed now. It’s getting late.”

Freya pointed between my legs and gave me an abashed look. “Um… I just need to take those panties with me, remember?”

“Oh, sorry, I forgot,” I said and pulled the soaked panties out of my cunt, inch by inch, until they lay sodden and creamy in my hand. I handed them to her and she took a little bashful sniff. “I hope you enjoy them,” I told her.

She snatched up her pyjamas, eager to be away with her dirty prize. Picking up her own panties, she gently placed them on my pillow.

“Well, that’s a lovely present,” I chuckled. “Thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome,” Freya said and did a cute little curtsey. She blew me a kiss. “Goodnight, Mum.”

“Goodnight, sweetie, and have fun. Try not to wake your sister,” I replied and blew her one back.

She tiptoed out of my room, quietly closing the door behind her.

On to Chapter Six!


8 Comments on The Beekeeper’s Daughters, Chapter 5

  1. Tim says:

    Yes, I’ve read the whole story before on the other forum as Blue Jean knows, but I have still very much enjoyed reading this chapter again.
    Beautifully written, a hint of mystery and intrigue building with Millie, and of course culminating in the wonderfully erotic time spent with Mum and Freya.
    All in all, just another great addition to JS – thanks Jetboy for finding it and Bluejean for writing.

  2. Kim & Sue says:

    Yes a very wonderful chapter. Indeed what is going with Millie? It’s a very interesting aspect to this charming story.

    Mother and daughter teasing each other. That first time getting naked with each other in a very sexual way, very hot, red hot. Great job Bluejean, we’ll treasure this chapter till the next one comes along.

  3. Erocritique says:

    Blue Jean continues to weave a magical spell of a story. I am captivated, mesmerized, end enchanted in equal measure;by the narrative; whether it be the strange super “natural” events involving Millie, or the incredibly erotic taboo involvimg mother, daughters, and Sadie. Better than great. Thank You Blue Jean, JetBoy, and Amanda. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

  4. David says:

    Love the story line both mystical and erotic, well written and detailed.
    Reading about Freya and her mom stripping for each other and masturbating together was so erotic. I have a feeling both Freya and her mom will be touching and licking each other soon. Looking forward to the next and future chapters. Thanks BlueJean and JetBoy!

  5. BlueJean says:

    Thank you very much for the feedback.

    Feel free to voice your criticism as well.

    “OMG, it’s sooooo boring!” doesn’t count, though.

    • Erocritique says:

      Not much to criticize thus far. This really is an incredibly charming and erotic taboo masterpiece. It’s right up there witht the best I have ever read on JS or anywhere else. Of course there is the possibility that the quality could suddenly drop off, but that seems highly unlikely. Please accept the praise on behalf of your fine work and the work of the JS team. You all earned it.👍👍👍👍👍

  6. cherryco says:

    DAMN, I love this story! So hot, yet mysterious too! More please!

  7. Tim says:

    Hey BlueJean. Thought you’d just become famous up here in the north when I saw the names Blue and Jean in the local paper linked with the word “filming”. Turns out, a film is being made about a lesbian teacher in the 1980’s trying to keep her sexuality hidden until a young female pupil has other ideas!
    So it wasn’t about you after all (unless you are that teacher!!) but my dirty mind came up with lots of ways the filming could continue. As I am sure yours can too!
    Still, it made a light hearted change from serious discussions about content on JS and I thought you’d enjoy hearing about it.
    Oh, and it must be time for the next chapter in this great story of yours! Hint, hint, Jetboy.

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