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A New Domination

By: bumblegrum



All characters in this story are aged 18 or over at the time of the action. This story contains elements of BDSM, fetish and incest; and if you don't like these ideas, please read no further. To be perfectly honest, I couldn't decide which of those categories to submit the story, but as it is almost entirely about submission, BDSM seemed the logical place.

I would like to thank MiriamL whose initial idea sparked my interest and provided a central theme, and who provided support, encouragement and enthusiasm during the writing. And I must again thank Hatsuda for his eagle-eyed editing and encouragement. To them should go the applause, while I take the criticism! 

*

"Simon, if you're not doing anything too important, can you please give me a hand?" I heard my mother calling. As I didn't regard reading the paper as 'too important' I headed upstairs towards the sound of her voice. Mum was dressed in a tee shirt, jeans and sneakers, unusual for her, as she always sought to be well dressed.

"Time for a spring-clean, honey," she commented. "Will you help me to get all the junk out of this cupboard, please?"

This being the location for all unwanted family debris, I realised the size of the task, but agreed and made a start. There was plenty of material to dispose of, and mum left me to get it all together for a final inspection.

I'm around 6'2" and even then, the top shelf was a bit of a stretch. Running my hands along the shelf to ensure it was all clear, my hand hit on some form of paperwork. Pulling it down, I discovered a yellow envelope; opening it, I discovered a quantity of photos, and my jaw almost hit the floor when I saw what they were.

The first photo I saw showed a woman, wholly naked but for a long string of pearls and high (very high) heels facing a sort of altar, the centrepiece of which was a large glass phallus. Her hands were behind her back but the truly startling thing was that the woman was my mother. This photo was taken from behind the altar; her face was quite unmistakeable, confirmed by the small red birthmark on the front of her right shoulder. A second photo showed her with her back and hips towards the camera as she knelt in submission, her hands bound behind her back with a silk scarf,

I was finding it hard to breathe with the huge significance of this discovery, and I dashed to my room and threw the envelope under the bed. Further investigation would be essential.

Perhaps it might be appropriate to provide a few details of my family at this stage. My father was an accountant with his own business, a self-made man with a tendency to worship his maker. His business and golf were about the extent of his interests.

My mother, Sally, then aged forty two was the sort of woman you might see in a suburban shopping centre and not give a second glance. She was medium height with brown hair down past her shoulders, wide set brown eyes, a slightly narrow and rather long nose and full lips; she was inclined to say that they made her look too "pouty". Mum was about five feet six inches tall and weighed around 130 lbs. Breasts around 34C, with a small amount of sag, but with a curvy, heart shaped butt.

For most of my childhood and adolescence, Mum had been warm, gentle and loving towards me. She was quiet and tended to keep in the background, but this had changed somewhat over recent years. She started to place a lot of importance on respectability and became quite open about the need for decency and good behaviour. 

Mum wore clothes that were conservative and never revealing, blouses buttoned to the neck and skirts and dresses below the knee. And black rimmed spectacles. She frowned at even slightly smutty jokes and comments, and attended church regularly every Sunday—wearing a hat, of course. I was encouraged to accompany her, although it became less frequent as my views on religion changed. Dad played golf.

I realised early on that my parents' marriage was somewhat strained. I came to understand that it had been largely a marriage of convenience—Dad had wanted a housekeeper who would be available for occasional vanilla sex, and Mum wanted to get away from a family life where she felt unloved. They were married when Mum was just twenty and I was born nine months later, in 1988. At the time these events unfolded, I was 22 and moving towards qualifying as a psychologist.

Returning to the spring cleaning, I finished up, and Mum thanked me, then told me she had some shopping to do and would be out for a couple of hours. This was ideal, and I returned to my room and fished out the envelope. It contained a range of photos of a nature that rapidly gave me an erection, regardless of the fact that this was my mother. The photography was almost professional in quality with fine details.

Some caught my eye immediately. One showed her on her knees with her mouth engulfing a glass phallus, obviously deep throating it. Mum's skin was silky smooth and glowing almost as if she was generating a light within herself. Another showed her with the phallus buried to the hilt in her arse as she leaned over a bench with her bottom in the air. A similar picture of the same situation from a different perspective showed her with a look of extreme excitement and stimulation. 

There were many others, although one made me gasp in astonishment. It was one of a series, starting with my mother dressed in the usual way, but with a wedding veil covering her eyes. A second picture showed her kneeling in a sort of cradle that supported her shoulders. The veil had been lifted, but now she had a man's cock deep in her throat, with the glass version again buried in her arse. From the position of her right hand, she had to have been masturbating.

Two other photos puzzled me. They were a great deal older, in black and white and the quality was nowhere near as good. They showed a tall dark haired woman, bare footed and wearing nothing but a string of pearls. In one, she was standing with her head down in a submissive posture; in the other, her hands were bound behind her head, causing her breasts to stand out. I remembered that there was a photo of my mother in a similar position.

All of this was too much for me, and I headed to the bathroom to relieve myself with a highly satisfying orgasm. I also realised that I was definitely going to discuss this matter with Mum, which set my mind running in some highly erotic and quite dark directions. 

This had been a Wednesday and Dad was heading off next Monday for an interstate conference, supplemented by the inevitable games of golf. Good—this would give me an opportunity for some uninterrupted, in-depth conversations with my mother. First, though, I needed to visit some rather specialised stores in the less reputable parts of town to buy one or two specific objects—including a large sized glass phallus.

The rest of the week dragged more slowly than any time I had ever known, but eventually, Dad left on the Monday morning "red eye" leaving me with his usual injunction to, "look after your mother". Never had this had such significance, and I intended to make a thorough job of it.

Mum sighed as he left and turned to me. "Some breakfast, I think, Simon, then I'm going to take it easy for the rest of the day. What are your plans?"

I couldn't have had a better opening, and I looked closely at my mother. "Well, Mum, I'd rather like to have a chat with you about some photographs that I found during the spring clean."

"Photos?" she replied, puzzled. "What photos are you ..." and then the light dawned. She gave a faint scream and her hands went to her mouth, her eyes open and staring.

I held my ground and said nothing.

"You can't possibly mean those photos of me ... But you do, don't you?" she whispered.

"Right, Mum, and I think we need to talk. It's not something we can just let go and pretend never happened."

"Simon, I guess you do deserve an explanation, but this is going to be so difficult for me. I need to get this whole episode out into the open and confess to someone I trust. I need to deal with the memories so that I can exorcise them and they will no longer trouble me. Simon, would you please be a darling and give me an hour or two to collect my thoughts, then I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

"Okay, Mum. It's a miserable day out there, so let's get comfortable in the lounge this afternoon. How does three o'clock sound to you?"

"Thank you, Simon," she responded, and after breakfast we went our separate ways.

At three o'clock, I returned to the lounge. The curtains were drawn against cold wet weather, a fire was burning in the hearth and the room was lit by candles. Mum was curled on the couch with her legs tucked under her, dressed in a pastel blue blouse, buttoned down the front and cream coloured linen slacks. She had obviously brushed her hair until it shone, and wore discreet but well applied makeup. Even so, she looked uncomfortable and apprehensive.

"Okay, Mum, how do you want to play this? By the way, in addition to a lot of photos of you, there are two much older black and white pictures of another woman who I can't quite ..."

Mum was off the lounge and dashed to my side. "Please, Simon, please let me see them."

I pulled out the two photos in question and Mum's voice trembled, near to tears. "Oh Simon, thank you, thank you so much. These are pictures of my grandmother, and I thought I'd lost them years ago. They are so important to me; they're really the only pictures I had of her." And she kissed my cheek lightly.

"Mum, this just makes the story even more puzzling; why is she in these poses and what does that have to do with your activities?"

"I understand your curiosity, Simon; perhaps I should start right at the beginning."

The saga that now exposed a completely new picture of my mother, her family and where she now found herself.

"As you know, Simon," she began, "I was born in 1968, the second of three children. My elder brother was academically brilliant and my younger sister was physically beautiful, but I had neither my brother's brains nor my sister's looks. I became increasingly isolated and introverted, which just put me even further at odds with the rest of my family." Mum looked despondent, and I realised that she was returning to those lonely years.

"I was about thirteen when my grandfather died," my mother continued, "and after that, grandmother sort of took me under her wing. She was lonely and so was I. She was smart, warm, funny, beautiful—and something that just wasn't talked about in those days, she was submissive. 

She and grandfather had been passionately in love with each other, and he was her Dom, giving her what she needed. We had long talks; grandmother was very open about sex, and I eventually discovered that I had submissive tendencies as well. I had no real way to realise these tendencies, but grandmother understood, and after I turned eighteen, she became my first Dom."

My mother now seemed to have returned to the 1980s. "Oh god, it was wonderful. She taught me so much about my body. She spanked me, flogged me and humiliated me in ways that still make me tingle just thinking about it. I licked her vagina and her bottom, even into her anus, and made her orgasm." Mother's voice became ragged and her breathing irregular as she was transported back to her early experiences as a sub.

"Then early in 1987, grandmother had a stroke; she never recovered and died a few weeks later. To my astonishment, and the resentment of the rest of my family, I inherited the bulk of her estate, including her beautiful pearl necklace. Her will was rock solid, but it alienated me from the rest of my family. I had known your father for a few years before we married early in 1988. In a sense, it was an arranged marriage and afterwards I felt that I'd had little say in the matter, but both families were strongly in favour."

I could sense that Mum was again starting to feel rather sad, but she continued, "I had hoped that your father could fill my need to be dominated. He was a very self possessed man with strong opinions, but he didn't have any interest in my needs. I came to realise that he needed to be married to anyone who could enhance his status as an accountant, especially as I had my own money. Even so, I was never so naïve as to allow him to make all the decisions about how I invested it, and that has been a source of friction between us over the years."

"Then I had you," Mum continued with a warm smile, "and you took up all my time, which I thoroughly enjoyed. In a very odd way, you came to dominate me—not in any sexual sense, of course, but I found myself needing to accede to your wishes. Looking back on those days, I suppose it might have made you unbearably spoilt, but that never happened."

"No, Mum," I replied gently, "I could always tell how much you loved me, and even when I was very young, I realised how important it was for you to know that I loved you and would do anything for you."

"Thank you, honey," Mum continued. "You took up a lot of my time, and I needed to work part-time, at first while your father was establishing his practice, then to give me an interest outside the home. About ten years ago, I started to feel a big gap in my life, and that grew with time."

Now my mother looked hesitant and uncertain. "I know I shouldn't say this, but as it's confession time, I won't hold back. Your father and I ... well, our sex life almost ceased. Not only wouldn't he help me with my submissive needs, but any physical contact shrunk to nearly nothing. 

Then around seven years ago, a friend of mine introduced me to a man named Blake Sheldon. I found out later that that was a false name, but that doesn't really matter. He told me that he was the grand master of a sexual fetish cult and he promised to meet my needs to be submissive in ways that would lead me through my erotic fantasies towards fulfilment."

"Sheldon told me that he had eight "masters' who were part of the cult, and they would control every aspect of my sexuality. I could be spanked, paddled, flogged or whipped and humiliated in any ways that they decided. While in their presence I would obey without question any and all orders I might be given. I would be their plaything. I could be bound, and could have sex with one or more of the group, vaginal, anal or oral. 

Sheldon did make it clear that I would experience pain, but my skin would not be broken and I would suffer no internal injury. I was to have a safe word that I could use if the experience became unbearable, but if I did, I would be interrogated in depth for my reasons for doing so. If I used it a second time, I could be expelled from the cult."

"Sheldon was very persuasive and he had a beautiful deep voice that he could use to make you believe almost anything. It was warm and resonant, rather like yours, honey", Mum smiled as she looked at me. I was conceited enough to agree with her, although not foolish enough to verbalise this. A former girlfriend had told me that it was like "listening to chocolate." 

Mum continued, "I was also told that a series of photographs would be taken of me during the rituals, and one of the female "attendants" was a skilled photographer. The photos you found are evidence of my involvement with the cult, and my commitment to its goals."

My mother was now even more uncertain, but I made my position clear. "Mum, you clearly need to confess, but we can't leave it here. For you to do the job properly, you will need to find your way back to these experiences through the photographs and cauterise your memory of what happened and how you felt."

She blushed, but then continued, "I guess you're right, honey, but this isn't easy. Well, the first night I found my way to an old house in the hills, and I was greeted by two people in long robes with hoods; rather like monks' habits. I had a sense that they were women, but I couldn't tell for sure. I was ordered to strip naked, wearing only five inch patent leather pumps and a string of pearls, my grandmother's pearls, round my neck. I was blindfolded and led into a large room or chamber. The blindfold was removed, and I could see that I was standing facing a semi-circle of figures. When he spoke, I knew the central figure was Blake Sheldon; flanking him were four figures on either side, making a total of nine people, all men, I soon discovered.

I was told to stand with my feet together but with my hands behind my head with my fingers interlaced. This had the effect of thrusting my breasts up and out. Then I was told to revolve, slowly so that everyone could see the whole of my body. The cult members commented on my body, sometimes adding ideas about what they would like to do to me, often in quite graphic terms."

"Such as?" I enquired.

Mum blushed and stammered, "Th ... that ... they'd li ... like to 'fuck its ... its arse and ... and make it scream. That they'd like to ... to ... to 'fuck those tits and cum in its mouth'. That they'd 'cum on its tits.' And more like that. They always referred to me in the third person neutral, which was so degrading, but added to the strange sense of excitement. As well as this, it was decided that I should have a new name. Sheldon told me that, within the cult I was to be known as 'Slut' and that any reference to 'Sally Benson' would result in punishment"

"Oh god, Mum, how were you able to put up with that?" I asked with shock in my voice but, even so, starting to feel aroused by these revelations.

"That was part of the deal, honey; I was desperate to find an outlet, any outlet, for my submissive needs. Allowing myself to be subjected to this humiliation helped me to deal with those needs."

"After I had turned completely and the commentary stopped," Mum continued, "I again faced Sheldon. In front of him was a large glass phallus, looking quite lifelike. I was ordered to get on my knees, lean forward and take the phallus into my mouth, coat it with saliva and treat it as if I was sucking a man's ..." Mum hesitated but fell back on the less controversial term, " ... a man's penis. I had to take it as far down my throat as possible. The first time I gagged and had to move away. It was permitted this first time, but he told me that if this did not improve in future, I would be punished."

"Punished how, Mum?" I enquired again.

"I would be spanked with a stiff leather paddle, ten times on each cheek. On the second week, I again failed to take the whole thing down my throat, and I was paddled. It hurt and I squealed with the pain, but it also created a warm glow in my ... in my vagina." 

Mum blushed again, and I laughed gently. "Look, Mum, it's quite alright to use the common language; you won't embarrass me—I've heard it all before. It created a warm glow in your pussy or in your cunt, okay?"

Mum sighed. "Okay, I guess, although this all feels so dangerous to me. Like walking a tightrope without a safety net."

"Mum," I replied, "Don't be too scared—I can be your safety net."

She rewarded me with a sweet smile and then continued her story. "After I'd lubricated the phallus, Sheldon removed it from its mounting and had me spread my legs and bend over to touch my toes. Spread this way, my anus was open and completely visible, and he inserted the phallus into my rect ... into my arse. To be fair, he was very gentle at first, easing it in slowly, but when my sphincter muscle spasmed he slapped my arse hard. That distracted me, and he was able to get it past the opening. He gradually thrust it up inside me and moved it around; at first it was dreadful and I cried out in pain, but I gradually adjusted to this thing inside my anu ... my arse. 

It took several weeks for me to become fully accustomed to this, but when I did, the feeling of fullness was so stimulating and erotic that it almost brought me to orgasm. I would have done if they'd allowed me to play with my pussy," here Mum grinned at me, "but that was not permitted."


A New Domination Ch. 02



This is a further exploration of both Incest and BDSM themes started in Chapter 1. All persons concerned in this tale are over 18 years of age, but if these themes are uncomfortable for you, please read no further. It should go goes without saying that these characters are not intended to be identified with any person in real life, either alive or dead.

I would like to thank Hatsuda once again for his editing expertise and support. 

****************************

I sat watching my mother after her cathartic recognition of her submission to me, and I wasn't surprised to see that she quickly fell asleep. It must have been a very traumatic experience for her. As she slept, her face took on a relaxed appearance with the stress that had marked her for a long time starting to disappear. She settled for the night, and in spite of the temptation to join her, I left for my own bed.

Before I fell asleep myself, I recognised immediately that, in making myself her Dom, I had also taken on a huge responsibility. Over the past couple of years, her emotional life had become a grey monotone lacking excitement or fulfilment, and she lived day-to-day in a safe, undemanding but boring existence. By submitting to me she saw an opportunity to experience a kaleidoscope of excitement, a rainbow of sensual colours.

All of this meant that I had taken on an awesome responsibility for my mother's emotional stability; if I fouled up, she wouldn't be able to return to grey safety. I was going to move heaven and earth to make sure I didn't foul up, and, in any case, grey safety would have been the last thing on mum's mind.

I was up early next morning and sat in the kitchen reading the paper. I was completely absorbed in this when I suddenly felt two soft warm hands slide over my shoulders and down my chest. I turned to see my mother in a dressing gown, her mobile, expressive face showing uncertainty and apprehension tinged with fear, but, I was intrigued to note, just the slightest hint of desire, even lust.

"Master, I ..." she started, but I stood and put my finger to her lips.

"Let's have some breakfast, mum, then we can get comfortable in the lounge and we'll talk; we need to do that."

We sat at right angles on the settee, knees almost touching, and she burst out, "Simon, I'm so scared. I so need to belong to you, to have you take control of my emotional life and tell me what to do. I need you to be in charge and ... oh Simon, I love you so much—I long to submit to you. I've dreamed about finding the ideal master for so long, and the truth is, you are the only person I can really trust. B...but," and here she hesitated and tears filled her eyes. "I am so afraid of what will happen if your father finds out."

"Okay, mum, I completely understand about dad, and that just means we must be very careful when he's around. I won't do anything at all to compromise you in his eyes, even though he's hardly ever home, and even then, he doesn't seem to take much notice of you. We need to make a compact about how we will behave while dad's around, but I give you my word, both as your master and as your son that I won't cause you any problems regarding dad. In front of dad, and in normal day-to-day situations, I shall continue to call you mum or mother, and you should call me Simon or honey, which I particularly like."

Her smile was enchanting and she moved beside me and kissed me, gently and with a warmth not normally associated with a mother/son kiss.

I looked deep into her eyes and could see the blend of unconditional love and need but also her vulnerability reflected in them. "Mum, I know that by submitting to me in this way, you are putting all your trust in me. In that way, I have been given the power over your total pleasure and I recognise that means you trust me enough to use it wisely. I have to tell you that, for me, that is a huge aphrodisiac. It also means that I have a compelling responsibility towards you not to cause you harm but to maximise your pleasure—because I love you so much."

There was a compelling need in her to obey, and she had found someone to whom she could submit, trusting me to provide for this compulsion. I came to realise that she would obey me without question. 

"Simon, there's been this gaping hole in my life ever since my grandmother died. Sheldon only partly filled it, and although the experience was highly stimulating, it didn't go far enough. It was only once a week, and even then, the cult seemed to operate almost automatically, as if they had a sort of 'play book'," mother grinned at me, and I knew exactly what she meant.

"Can I please explain something to you? It may help you to understand me and it will help me to make clear how I feel." she continued. "Ever since I can remember, I felt a need to obey someone. First, my parents; they had huge expectations of me, particularly after my brother showed such academic promise, then later, my sister was so beautiful. And the way my parents doted on them led to arrogance where they tried to force me to obey them." 

"Obedience became ingrained in me, and my grandmother heightened it, seeing the submissive streak in my nature and allowing me to give in to it. She made me obey her, too, but I was so enthralled by her that I willingly gave up my sense of who I was and found bliss in being her plaything. That was wonderful, until her death, when my world fell apart. Your father either couldn't or wouldn't give me what I needed, and after my experience with the cult, I could only turn to religion, where obedience to the church's doctrine was so important."

"A friend had introduced me to the cult, but it never really filled my deepest need. I am a submissive who needs to be the property of someone I not only trust but who I also love and respect. I know you are wise enough to use it as both a reward and a punishment, and ... oh god, Simon, I need you so much."

"Now you have discovered the pictures and stepped in and taken control of me, and I can't wish for anything better. I need to be controlled. All I want is to forget everything and focus only on pleasing one person. I've tried to come to grips with my desires for years but I was never able to really achieve it."

Her voice was husky and strained. "Now I am your sub and that is exactly what I want. I will do anything you tell me and my only concern is what pleases you. I will be your slave if that's what you need, your sex slave, willingly making my body available for any purpose. You only have to command me and I will do it. For you, Sir, for you alone."

It was at that moment that I realised that this would be her whole life from now on. She was made to serve me, to be mine exclusively. I knew that I could use her in any way I wanted, and I sensed that that excited her greatly; that this gave her life its ultimate meaning, and that she would embrace this new reality with an enthusiasm and commitment unlike anything that she had previously experienced. She was my mother, my lover and my pet. I now knew without a shadow of doubt that this was to be her role, even if nobody else could know that she was my plaything.

"You like this idea, don't you mother? You like having to do what I tell you?"

She nodded but remained silent

"Take off your gown, come over here and stand in front of me." She stumbled towards me. "Stop and lock your hands behind your head so I can get the best view of your tits. Now turn round and face the other way." 

She turned slowly turned and faced the opposite way, knowing that I was staring at her naked bottom. "Absolutely lovely mother. You have gorgeous tits and a beautiful bottom, soft and pliant. I am going to love playing with it. Now turn and face me."

I heard a quiet moan as she did so, blushing but otherwise silent.

First, though, we need to look at a few ground rules. Now," I continued, "when we're in an intimate situation like this, I shall call you slut, bitch, whore or any other name I choose, and you will call me sir for preference or master if you wish. Do you understand the situation you are now in?"

She looked at me from under hooded eyelids, her breathing becoming rapid and shallow. Taking a deep breath, she answered with a shaking voice, "Yes Sir. 

"I hope you know what you are saying, mother, you are giving me carte blanche to treat you however I like, although you must never forget your safe word, 'wombat'."

"Yes, honey, I know, and that's what I want. Tell me what you are going to do to me, what you are going to do with me," she replied without any hesitation.

"I will spank you until your bottom is crimson and pulsing with heat—punishing you like the bad little girl you are. I will lay you on your bed with your legs in the air, and then eat you until your lose all control in your lust. I will flip you onto your hands and knees and take you hard and fast until you scream for release. You are so sexy, I doubt I will last long before I fill you up with my seed."

"Then you will clean me with your mouth before we go to the bathroom and share a long hot shower together. When we do, I will pee over your tits and your pussy. At other times, I may tie you up so that you can't move, then work over your body until you scream for release. I may—or may not—grant that release when you beg me for it."

"I shall want you to dress in sexy clothing—stockings and heels, flimsy little panties and shelf bras. When you do, I will drag you into the bedroom and have you kneel on the edge of the bed. I will lick your pussy as well as your bottom before I stand behind you and take you hard like the horny slut you are while you scream in a mixture of pain and excitement."

"Oh god, Simon, I almost reached a climax just hearing you say those things. And I want to suck your cock and have you cum on my face and tits. And please control my orgasms so I don't climax until you allow me to."

God mother looked, sounded and smelled so delicious—and I could see her starting to shiver with anticipation. This is how she was, needing to obey, needing to submit, and I could control her—through domination, and maybe humiliation. It was her overwhelming need and I could use it for our mutual satisfaction.

"Please Sir, please teach me to be a good slut. Show me how you need me to behave so that I can give you everything you need from me. It isn't only the physical stuff, spanking and whipping, that I so need, delicious though that is. What is so important to me is my total submission to you. I will give you everything you desire, just be firm and demand obedience. It's all about your power over me and my need to be controlled. You could demand that I not orgasm until you allow me to and then punish me if I don't obey you. You are my master; you own me in the same way you would own a pet."

"Very well. You need to know the basic submissive position that I shall expect you to assume when we are together. Kneel in front of me with your bottom on your calves with your feet just overlapping. Spread your knees wide, back straight, shoulders back and your hands open and resting upwards on the tops of your thighs. Your eyes must be open, but focused completely on my groin. Do you understand, mother?" 

"Oh yes Sir. I need you to humiliate me; I need to be degraded so that I know I have no existence other than through your wishes and your desires."

"Excellent, now stand, come here and undress me."

She obeyed, her hands trembling with a lust-borne thrill as she removed my clothes, and I felt a surge of power over this obedient woman, my mother and my pet. I heard her gasp as she lowered my boxers to reveal my manhood standing tall, proud and rigid in front of her. She started to reach towards it and then stopped, knowing that she had not yet been given permission.

I sat on a chair and beckoned her towards me. "Now, let us see how well you have learned your first lesson. Assume the position."

In a flash, she was on her knees in exactly the position I had demanded. She looked beautiful—her soft pale skin quivering slightly, her breasts thrust forward and her nipples hard with anticipation. Even though she was now 42, her body showed little of the ravages of time, and she looked to be in her prime, ripe, soft, smooth and so alluring that I almost drooled. She was a wet dream come true; she wanted me and the feeling was entirely mutual.

"Kiss my feet in submission, mother, then kiss your way upward along both of my legs."

She did as I demanded, soft moist kisses, using her tongue for extra erotic effect. She soon discovered some erogenous areas, and could obviously tell the effect she was having on me. She giggled when I gasped in reaction, and repeated the dose to my great satisfaction.

I stopped her briefly as she reached the top of my legs. "Use your tongue around my balls, Sally, then long slow licks along the length of my shaft and take the head into your mouth."

She moaned with excitement and then obeyed with a skill and enthusiasm that rather surprised me. But the surprise quickly disappeared with the intense pleasure that she was creating. I felt myself climbing towards a highly satisfying climax, ready to shoot a load into her sweetly sucking mouth. I also realised, however, that this first time needed to be about reinforcing my dominance and not just about my pleasure.

"Take my cock out of your mouth, slut and finish me by hand. When you do, point me at your face, then at your tits."

She whimpered in frustration as I realised that she had built up an expectation of being able to taste her son, but did as I demanded. She recognised that her child was watching her debase herself, and that was enough to send me over the edge. I clenched my body rigid and howled as my orgasm exploded, covering her face and tits with my spend.

I gradually came down from my high to see my mother still kneeling in the submissive position with my seed dribbling down her face and hanging in strings from her nipples. "Scoop up my cum and eat every drop," I ordered.

She did so, enthusiastically and with obvious enjoyment.

We relaxed for the rest of the day in a wholly domestic scenario, until later that evening, after my mother had readied herself for bed, I asked her, "Mother, although you are my sub, and must do anything I tell you, I'm not completely insensitive to your needs. So tell me, Sally, what do you most want from me?"

She shivered, unsure at first of how far she could go, but then pulled herself together. She looked deep into my eyes, almost as if trying to see if I was only playing with her emotions. "Master, I beg, take me hard, show me no mercy, rape me, make me scream in submission to show you how much of a whore I really am." 

I made a rapid decision. "Mother, I have to go out for a short while, but I won't be long. Maybe you'd better get yourself ready for bed."

With that I went out to my car and drove it onto the road, then crept back into the house and up to my mother's bedroom. She was humming to herself, always a good sign. Creeping up behind her, I grabbed her round the waist and threw her onto the bed. She screamed, at first mainly because of the surprise, but then because she knew what was about to happen.

"You asked for it, bitch, now you're gonna get it," and I tore off her gown, revealing all her glorious nakedness.

"Oh god, Simon, I ..."

"Shut it, whore, unless you want me to gag you," and I pinched her engorged nipples and pulled them hard away from her body. She screamed and writhed, but I let go of her nipples and slapped her hard on each breast, which caused her to scream again. I reached down and ran my fingers firmly along her slit, confirming what I'd already suspected; she was wet and getting wetter.

"You know you're going to be raped, don't you, you degenerate whore? You know you are totally depraved wanting your son to fuck you like this don't you? Tell me, slut," I shouted, "tell me how much you want it."

"Let me go, you bastard," she screamed.

"That's enough, bitch," I growled, and with that, she tried to lash out at me with closed fists, screaming incoherently. She was no match for my strength, however, and I grabbed her and with a quick heave, turned her onto her face. Her response almost made me believe this was serious, but the safe word remained unsaid. I was able to avoid her kicking legs, pinning her against the bed by pressing on the small of her back. She struggled, thrashing her whole body in a seemingly helpless invitation for me to take full advantage of her.

"Alright, you animal, you can have your way with me. Why don't you just get it over with and ... Aargh, yes, you motherfucker, I want you to do me; I want that big cock jammed hard into my pussy. I want to feel your cum pump into me. I want ..."

With this, I bent and bit the creamy smooth skin of her bottom. I then reached round and pinched her hard nipples relentlessly and my mother screamed as her passions won the battle over her self-control.

"Like that, do you, slut?"

"Yes." she answered quickly, biting her own lip. "I love it!" she cried out in both ecstasy and agony.

My hand came down hard across her bottom several times, and she screamed, "Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!" repeatedly, desperate for me to pierce her to her soaking writhing core.

"Come on, Sally, show me how depraved you are." I ordered. "Tell me how much of a slut you really are!"

She knew what I wanted to hear, and what she wanted to hear herself tell me. She realised that I was coming to revel in the control I had over her, and deep down she knew that the release into submission would send her into orbit as well.

"I'm such a slut and I so want to be fucked like a whore." she panted, "but I'm your whore. I so want you to fuck me and I just can't stop fantasizing about it."

"Yeah, slut, get up on your hands and knees and stay there or you will be punished severely," I demanded, to give me time to get out of my clothes. I was soon back positioned behind her and I admired the smooth slope of her back.

"Beg for it, mother, beg for your son. Plead with me to ram my cock up your needy, drooling pussy."

"Aargh, yes, Sir, please, I beg you, please do me hard. I just want you so much ..." and she whimpered and moaned as I positioned myself against her sloppy pussy and pushed just the tip into her.

"That's a good little girl. You belong to me and me alone, do you understand? Every part of your body belongs to me, to use in any way I choose."

With that, I grabbed her by her hips and thrust my rigid cock all the way into her. My mother screamed with the speed and intensity of my penetration, but was soon pushing herself back against me.

"Please Sir, fuck this slut as hard as you can. Feel how my pussy wants to hold on to your cock; it doesn't want to let go. Oh fuck, it feels so good."

She was having a highly stimulating effect on me. "Your pussy is so hot; it feels perfect around my cock." With that, I again spanked her bottom as I fucked her, and her shuddering moans told me how much this turned her on.

"That's right, slut. Push your hot tight cunt back so that I can ride you hard. You love having my fuck meat up your horny pussy, don't you, bitch?" I growled, 

"Oh, god, yes, I love your hard cock fucking me, Sir. Please, treat me like the bitch I am and make me cum," she replied.

"Mmmm! Yeah, you're going to cum for me, whore. You're my bitch, now, aren't you? Say it, slut. Tell me what you are."

"I'm a dirty cheating whore!" she gasped. "You're fucking a slut who gets off on cheating on her husband, on your father. I'm a depraved whore who loves fucking her son. I'll go to hell and I don't care. I need to be punished; please teach me to be a good girl, Sir."

She thrust back harder onto me and her breathing turned to shallow gasps as she neared her climax. My mother ... oh god, my mother, cried out almost incoherently, begging me to fuck her, begging me to use her, begging me to make her my slut. The silky muscles of her cunt gripped me, spasming in their excitement, and I knew she was close to her own explosion in a searing orgasm.




A New Domination Ch. 02



At the same time, I could feel myself nearing my peak. This was no ordinary fuck, this was something new and depraved, but supremely erotic, filling me with an ecstasy I'd never experienced before. This was my mother, begging her son to take her, acknowledging his mastery over her—and loving every moment of it.

Eventually she reached the point of no return, screaming. "Please, may I cum for you, Sir? Please, let me cum?"

"Yes, whore! Cum for me! Now! Cum for your master!"

My mother's screams seemed to fill the room as she came on my hard cock, flooding me with her hot juices. Her screams and moans of delight were all I needed to plunge over the edge into my own maelstrom of sexual rapture. With a loud shout, I came harder than I could ever remember having cum before as my cock unloaded deep into her womb.

We both gasped for air, breathing hard as the rapture slowly diminished. I rolled off her back and lay on the bed with my mother on her side. I must have started to fall asleep, because the next thing I remembered was one finger slowly moving from my neck to my navel in a sensuous caress. I opened my eyes to see my mother resting on one elbow with a luminous smile glowing across her face as she trailed a finger over me.

"Oh god, Sir, that was everything I imagined and so much more. If this is how being your sub is going to be, I will crawl over broken glass for you, I'll ..."

I pulled her across me and stopped her the best way I knew how, with a kiss that started warm and gently but soon grew into a passionate, no holds barred lingual exploration. 

"Sally, this is beyond beautiful, beyond sexy, beyond a rainbow explosion of sensuality. You are so beautiful and so desirable, I don't know how I am going to be able to keep my hands off you."

"Then don't try," she giggled, but then changed the moment with a wide, unstoppable yawn.

"Mmm, yes, Mum, we need some sleep—it's been an eventful day. You have one last sub's job to do ..." but before I could tell her, she shimmied down and ran her warm, soft tongue over my now wholly shrunken cock, cleaning me completely of the mixture of our joint delight.

This time we slept together, spooned into each other and she wriggled backwards, seeking the most contact with my body. It was all I could do to resist her before sleep relieved the temptation.

The week passed in a blur of sexual excitement. At least once a day, my mother would beg me to discipline her; her favourite was a spanking with me using my bare hand, but she also enjoyed a stiff leather paddle. We had sex in every room of the house, sometimes a long erotic lovemaking with extensive foreplay until we were both almost out of control. Sometimes I would take her by surprise for a fast hard fuck that had her screaming and thrashing in her climax.

On the Saturday, my mother had been shopping dressed conservatively; this style was getting me increasingly enthusiastic, knowing that underneath that prim and proper exterior was a sexual volcano. I decided to put her to a humiliating test.

"Mother, we shall go to church tomorrow." I caught her unawares and quite surprised.

"Why, sure, honey, but why; don't forget that your father is due back tomorrow evening."

"How could I forget, Sally; we shall have to curtail our excitement. But I think it might be good for you to see your girlfriends again—it's been a while, hasn't it?" She nodded her agreement, but I refused to be drawn any further.

The following morning, we were up early, with mother dressed in typical church-going clothes. Low heels, pantyhose, a severe dress with a covering jacket, a small black hat with a false veil and the most rudimentary makeup. She paraded herself for my inspection, and I nodded approval.

"Excellent, mother—how do you feel?"

"I feel a complete hypocrite, Simon. I don't understand why we're going to church, and you so seldom come."

"To answer your question, mother, this is to see just how well you cope with humiliation." So saying, I produced an egg shaped object and showed it to her.

She gasped, holding her hand to her mouth. "That's ... that's a ... that's a vibrator, isn't it?"

"Correct, mother, and you will insert it into your cunt, and it will stay there until we return from church. Now go and get it into you like a good girl."

My mother disappeared briefly, returning with a look blended from concentration and concern on her face. "Okay, I've put it inside me, what happens now?"

I said nothing, but turned the remote control to a medium setting. She screamed with the sensation, shaking and staring at me with fear in her eyes. "Oh god, Simon, I can't go to church like this, with you controlling the sensations like you are; I'd completely lose control and make a total laughing stock of myself."

"Then it's up to you to make sure you control yourself, isn't it, mother? Now finish getting ready, we don't want to be late." I could see that she wanted to object, but something held her back, and I was willing to bet that her need to be dominated had overcome her fear of exposure.

We arrived at the church and Sally was greeted by some of her older acquaintances who gushed over her and me for coming with my mother. As they were talking, I tweaked the remote very lightly, giving her a light buzz in her pussy. Mum gasped, and her friends were immediately solicitous as she explained that she was having some minor pain. "Women's troubles," I commented blandly, and the others nodded in understanding.

The congregation was small and we sat in a pew by ourselves. This gave me the opportunity to play with the remote, and during the sermon, I turned it up to medium. My mother writhed in her seat, close to orgasm and had to almost physically restrain herself from making any sound.

After the service, we were again joined by mum's former cronies and they gossiped with genial malice. We were then joined by Denise Carlyle, the deaconess, a striking woman in her late thirties, cool and self-assured, wearing what was obviously Chanel No.5. I noticed my mother twitched her nose at this, and she told me later that she really disliked that perfume.

We stood talking for a while, and I manipulated the remote enough to make my mother twitch and squirm, but she concealed this quite well. But not completely, and the consensus of opinion was that I should take mum home and make sure she was okay.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure she gets the treatment she needs," I smiled as we left the church. When we were settled in the car, I turned the vibrator up to the highest setting, and she thrashed and moaned in her seat as two or three orgasms swept over her.

When we arrived home, we went into the lounge and I ordered her to strip. "Get yourself out of those 'old lady' clothes, and never let me see you wearing pantyhose again. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir" she whispered obediently and was soon naked in front of me.

"Do you know what will happen now, mother, after you nearly revealed your climax in the church? Tell me, what do you think you deserve?"

She said nothing, but rubbed her legs together, trying to gain stimulation in her weeping pussy.

"You have been a bad girl, getting so wet and almost losing control. You could barely contain your excitement, could you mother? You know you should be punished; what punishment do bad little girls get when they get wet?"

She whimpered, knowing the answer. "Bad girls deserve to be spanked, sir. Please spank me and prove what a bad girl I've been." Her voice trembled, but she held her position, and her eyes never left mine. "I need to be punished, and I need you to do it, to spank me until I scream, so I know that I belong to you."

"Come here, then, and take the position across my lap."

She did so, and the result was truly mouth watering. Her soft pink/white skin flowed across both cheeks and presented a target that no red-blooded male could possibly resist. Instead of immediately spanking her, as she probably expected, I gently stroked my hand over her responsive skin as it quivered and trembled in anticipation. God help me, it felt wonderful, and her groans and whimpers told me that she felt the same way.

Then I struck. My hand was cupped at first, making a satisfying noise but not causing much pain. Lulling her into a false sense of security, I opened my hand and spread my fingers and gave her five rapid strikes on each cheek. She squeaked and squealed as her bottom took on first a pink and then a deeper cherry red tinge. Then a further five on each side led to a change in her voice. Her response to the stinging sensation was having a different effect, and she writhed and rolled on my lap, seeming to try to force her mound against my now very interested cock.

"I see, slut—you are trying to get off on me; this wasn't supposed to be about your pleasure but about you being punished. What do you have to say for yourself?" I motioned for her to sit beside me.

"I ... I ... I don't ... I don't know, Sir. All I know is that your spanking heated my bottom and the heat transferred to my pussy, and it made me feel so hot and so sexy, and I so wanted to come to a climax, especially because you created it."

"Hmm. I see, mother. I shall have to give a lot of thought to suitable punishments that won't lead to you getting aroused. But while I am thinking about that, your response to me playing with your bottom has caused me to get very enthusiastic about the idea of fucking you, and I'm going to take you doggy style."

If her expression could have caused me to orgasm, I would have cum violently and relentlessly there and then. "Please, Sir, please fuck me as hard as you like. Oh god, just the idea is making my pussy drool. Ooh yes, I need you so much and ..."

"Quiet, slut, bedroom now, on your hands and knees in the middle of the bed."

My mother rushed out of the lounge and was quickly in position on her own bed, her body quivering and shaking with excitement while she waited for me. I stripped quickly, then joined her on the bed, giving her a brisk slap across each cheek. "Now, Sally, fold your arms and rest your head on them." She did so, presenting her luscious bottom to me, her pussy wet and ready.

I bent down behind her and ran my tongue along her slit, luxuriating in the sweet juices oozing from her pussy and the intoxicating aroma acting as its own supreme aphrodisiac. She moaned and gasped, with soft whimpers as my tongue worked hard across her clit. Her arousal was growing; mine too, and I wanted us to finish together in a blaze of glory.

I moved over her back, and stroked my almost painful cock along her slit, causing her gasps and moans to grow in volume and become ragged and needy. Without any further preliminaries, I plunged my rigid member hard into her hot, wet, clingy sweetness. Her cunt welcomed me like a long lost lover, and she screamed, partly because of the sudden intrusion, but more with delight at being filled to the brim with cock.

"Oh god yes, Sir—please fill me full of your beautiful cock—I can't get enough of it. Oh ... oh ... oh ... oh ... please Sir, don't stop, ride me hard, make me scream, fill me up. This is SO good. Ungh ... aargh ... I've never ..."

All the while her breathing became faster and more ragged and I could feel her cunt muscles contracting and dragging me deeper into her chamber of delights. Her hands grabbed and twisted the bedclothes and she screamed in a crescendo of lust and need, jerking spasmodically as she neared her climax.

I had not been idle during this time, pumping into my mother from behind, my thrusts becoming harder and more frequent as her orgasm grew closer. Then that bliss, almost indistinguishable from pain as my balls insisted that they be emptied into this hot wet receptacle. My cock swelled into its welcoming tunnel and I screamed my delight as I erupted into her. This was enough for my mother, and with an ear splitting scream, she came, bathing my cock in her superheated juices.

I fell sideways so as not to crush her, and she turned and looked at me through smoky, half-focussed eyes. "Simon, master, there aren't enough words. You are perfect for me; this means so much to me, and every time we are together, I want you more. But I worry sometimes that I am out of balance and not giving you everything you want and need. Oh Sir, what more can I do to satisfy you?"

I returned her gaze, then moved over to kiss her. I held her close to me and we wrapped our bodies around each other. Then a long, slow kiss, our tongues melding together, working against each other with a passion so different from the phenomenal sex that we had both just enjoyed, but with a desire and beauty all its own. "What does that tell you, mother?" I asked, being deliberately ingenuous.

"I think it means that you are happy with me, and that I can give you at least some of what you need. This is so beautiful, Sir, I don't ever want it to stop."

My hands moved down her sleek, smooth back in long, slow strokes and she quivered with the sensations, murmuring her happiness and excitement. We lay that way for a long time, talking, laughing, kissing, touching, both intoxicated with the other. This was my mother, but she met my needs in a way that no other woman could, and I luxuriated in her feel, her sight, her laughter and the taste of her skin.

Suddenly, and totally unexpectedly, my mother burst into tears. "Oh god, Sir, I've just realised—your father will be home in about three hours, and then all this must stop and I'll have to go back to my drab existence with him. Now I know what real love and real bliss is, I don't know how I'll be able to cope."

"Mum, listen to me. I know how much I love and need you, and I think you feel the same. If we just keep that in our minds and seize whatever opportunities there may be in his absence, I think we'll be able to get through this. Now, kiss me, and make it good."

It was. Her kiss was hot, wet and sweet. She used her mouth and tongue as if they were musical instruments and she was a concert performer, and I replied in kind. I wanted this to go further, and looking directly at her she knew what I wanted, almost without hesitation. Her hands moved to my growing cock as I said, "Blow me, slut," and she moaned in eager expectation.

My mother had developed a ritual for giving me head that I found intensely exciting. She fondled my cock and balls, gently scratching the skin so lightly that I could hardly feel it, but the result was incredible. She kept this up until the first drops of pre-cum appeared, which she licked off with just the tip of her tongue. This was the signal for her to work her tongue along the shaft, rolling it around the head of my rapidly swelling cock.

At the same time, she gently juggled and caressed my balls with her soft, warm hand. My breathing grew ragged and I started to gasp in anticipation of a major eruption. This was the signal for her to suck on my drooling cock, and the suction combined with her moans of enjoyment was more than I could control. I felt the electric tingle of an approaching climax generate in my abdomen and spread rapidly to my balls. The pressure built to that ecstasy almost indistinguishable from pain, and I unleashed my cum directly into my mother's welcoming mouth.

She swallowed hungrily, taking all I had to give, then looking at me with a mischievous grin, licked her lips and murmured, "Oh yes, Sir, that is so delicious. I think I could live on that alone."

I grabbed her and kissed her hard, tasting myself on her lips, a sensation that I found highly erotic, even though it was really depraved. But we were both completely comfortable with what was happening; her devotion to me was matched by my desire for her and my determination to protect her on the one hand and to dominate her on the other. When we had talked about this, I almost had to stop my mother throwing herself at me in a submissive desire to be my lover, my sex slave and my slut.

We showered and dressed in an atmosphere compounded of disappointment and almost dread before my father arrived home in the early evening. I was in my room when he arrived, but wandered out and greeted him, but the atmosphere was very tense.

"Hi dad, welcome home," I managed, "what's up?"

"Your father has only just got back and rather than spend time with his family, he told me he needs to go to his office. Something about a problem with a big account." My mother's voice clearly indicated her displeasure.

"Look, Sally—hi Simon, how are you?—I told you, this is important; I could lose a big account unless the problem is fixed right away. I got a message on the plane, and there is no time to lose. I'll be home later." So saying, he grabbed his briefcase and headed for the door.

My mother looked at me, then threw herself into my arms. "Thank god I've got you, Simon, otherwise I don't know how I'd cope."

"Yes, mother, you are completely mine." I took her by the hand and, sitting in a convenient chair, pulled her, unresisting, across my lap. I flipped up her sensible skirt and proceeded to spank her gorgeous bottom. The response was a little more intense than I'd expected as she squealed and cried, but as I finished, she stood and took my head in her hands, kissing me with great enthusiasm.

"Thank you so much, Sir, that is just what I needed to release the stress that he caused. One day, when we've got more time, I'll show you just how grateful I really am," and she giggled and swayed her hips as she shimmied away.

Sally and I managed to get through the next week or two but with great difficulty. We managed some fast, intense encounters, but the knowledge that dad was still around put a dampener on our activities.

Then the world changed. One morning, mum called to me in a strained and unhappy voice. "Simon, can you spare me a moment, please, I'd like your opinion."

Mum was in the laundry holding one of dad's shirts. "Look," she said, pointing to a faint red/pink stain, "that's definitely not my shade of lipstick. And smell the shirt—I don't wear that perfume."

There was no question in my mind; it was Chanel No. 5, which mum didn't like. But I knew someone who did. "Mum, I know this is way out of left field, but if my memory serves, that's the shade that Denise Carlyle was wearing that Sunday at church. I remember thinking it did nothing for her; and she wears Chanel No. 5!"

"Oh my god, Simon, you can't possibly think that your father is having an affair with the deacon at the church? That's preposterous."

"Dunno, mum, but I know of a way of finding out. Do you remember Ted Bull, a guy who was at uni last year—he called round here a couple of times, and I did him one or two favours. He dropped out to start his own private detective agency. I think I might call in those favours." My mother looked apprehensive but said nothing.

I contacted Ted and he was happy to help. I gave him a photo of my father and as much information about my suspicions as possible, and he promised to get back to me. About ten days later I had a call from Ted and I went to see him.

"Better sit down, dude," his face was sombre. "This isn't pretty." He showed me a series of photos unquestionably showing my father in intimate positions with Denise Carlyle. Worse was to come; Ted produced a DVD—the quality was not the best and the sound somewhat muffled, but there could be no doubt about the two players. This showed Ms Carlyle wearing a latex bustier and stockings with one foot on dad's head, lashing his bare arse with a riding crop. And he was begging mistress for more as she verbally abused him.

"Holy shit, Ted, how the hell did you get this?"

"Modern cameras can work wonders. They weren't hard to track down and your suspicions were absolutely correct, even if they did go a bit further than a quick cuddle and kiss behind the vestry."




A New Domination Ch. 02



"Thanks, Ted," I said, standing to go. "What do I owe you?"

"Nothing, dude; I owe you anyway, and this is not the nicest way to repay a debt. So let's call it quits."

I headed back home quickly. It wasn't a work day for mum and I found her drinking coffee in a spotless kitchen. I took her in my arms and kissed her hard and passionately, and she returned the kiss, clinging to me with love and devotion.

As we broke apart, she smiled and said, "That was really delicious, Sir, but a tiny bit unexpected—is there any special reason for trying to devour me?"

"Mum, you'd better sit down. This will be a bit shocking," and so saying I spread out the incriminating photos.

Mum gasped when she realised the full implications. "That rotten bastard. I suspected he was up to something, but Denise Carlyle of all people. How on earth did he manage to persuade her to whore for him?"

"It's far worse than that, mum," I said, and turned on the DVD player. To my astonishment, hardly 30 seconds into the scene, mum burst out laughing. This wasn't hysteria, she seemed genuinely amused.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Simon, honey, I know he's your dad, but this is so ludicrous. In my wildest imagination, I couldn't think of him in that situation. Oh god, look at him grovelling and whimpering and begging for her to keep lashing him."

At this point, mum changed quite markedly. "Well, he's made his bed, now he can lie in it. I'm divorcing him and I'll want at least half of his assets or this whole sordid mess will become public. And I don't think Denise, or the church for that matter, would be too impressed."

"Mum, you do know you're talking about blackmail, don't you?"

"Catchy name for it, honey; more like karma really. And that means we wouldn't have to worry about him catching us showing how we feel about each other. I know, I know I sound like a hypocrite, but at least we've had the commonsense to keep our relationship hidden."

Mum changed again. "Oh Sir, could I beg you to take me to bed and love me. please?"

I growled deep in my throat. "Bedroom, slut. I want to see you naked on your bed when I get there, ready to service me with any part of your body I choose."

She giggled and dashed from the room. When I followed a short time later, she was sitting on her bed with her back against the headboard, gently stroking her pussy. She looked at me through smoky, half-closed eyes. "Anything you want, master, anything at all. I'm all yours, now and always. Just tell me what you most desire."

"Easy, you hot, horny slut. I want you—just a simple fuck with you on top, riding me to heaven and giving me the chance to torture your gorgeous nipples and make you scream."

She panted in exhilaration and excitement. "Yes, oh god yes; please do me like that Sir, I so want you ... and I want you to hurt me like that. It's so good and turns my cunt into a blazing furnace. But you do run the risk of me melting your cock."

I laughed and stripped in double quick time, jumping on the bed and grabbing her in my arms.

She showered little kisses all over my face, mewling gently as she did so. I replied by kissing down her neck behind her ear, then nipping her ear lobe to make her jump and squeal. We were both warming up very nicely when I pinched her nipples hard and was rewarded by a deep scream of mixed pain and pleasure. In response, she took hold of my rapidly growing cock, squeezing and stroking it to its fully operational status.

"Now, I want you, Sally, load up and mount me."

It took barely a few seconds before she had one leg across me with her drooling pussy poised above my cock. She lowered herself teasingly slowly onto me, and I could feel the heat of her love tunnel gradually engulf me. I decided it was time to speed up, grabbing her hips and pulling her down as far as she would go.

She screamed and whimpered, "Oh god yes ... so good, so deep ... please, I beg you go deeper ... take me hard; no mercy ... I'm your slut, your bitch ... treat me like the whore I am ... fuck me, master, fuck me until I can't stand any more, then fuck me again ... pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease oooh fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck .........."

I thrust up into her welcoming channel, her pussy weeping love juice all over my electrified cock. Her cunt muscles gripped and released me, only to grip me again as I shoved hard into her and to release me with great reluctance.

I pinched her nipples hard, pulling them out and twisting them, causing my mother's screams to get louder and more desperate. But I knew that desperation was based on a rapidly approaching climax that threatened to tear her apart. The erotic pressure was building inside her as she writhed and thrashed around my cock, gasping, moaning and seemingly becoming disoriented. Tears started running down her face as she made meaningless sounds of lust and desire.

At the same time, all the superb signs of an impending explosion were generating in my lower abdomen, and I let them run free. My mother reached the point of no return, and the velvet vice of her cunt spasmed, gripping me fiercely. That was enough for me, and I came hard and freely, bathing her womb with my spend. My swollen cock and the blast of cum into her were the triggers for a massive orgasm, and my mother screamed at the top of her voice, then went rigid before she collapsed on to of me, sobbing and covering my face with soft, wet kisses.

I held her close as her trembling calmed and she looked at me with gratitude and a reverence bordering on hero-worship. "Simon, Sir, this is so wonderful, and I love you so much, and I don't want you to ever let me go, but ..."

"I know, Sally, we'd better do the sensible thing, and I'll go to my own room before he gets back. Just remember, I'm only next door; think of me as you go to sleep."

"Mmm, yes, master, I shall dream of you and all the wonderful—and naughty—things you do to me."

The next day was a work day for everyone, and we were all out of the house early. I was back by 4.30, with mum home around 5.00. She had an unusually set, hard look on her face as she greeted me with a very "motherly" kiss on the cheek.

"Simon, this is the time for me to lay it on the line to your father, and I'm giving him an ultimatum to get out—or else. Please, honey, if you have any hesitations about that, please let me know before he gets home."

I could see how stressed she was, and I took her in my arms and kissed her in a very un-motherly fashion to let her know I was okay with that. I followed it up verbally. "Yes, mum, I'm totally okay with that, and it might help if I was present when you tell him."

"Thank you so much, Simon. I must make sure I demonstrate my thanks in a more personal way," she giggled.

My father arrived home around 6.00 and started to busy himself as if to go out again.

"George, do you have a minute, please? I need to talk to you." My mother's voice was highly controlled, although I thought I could hear a tremor of stress.

"Not now, Sally, I have to go out again."

"Yes, now, George, unless you want your affair with Denise Carlyle to be broadcast around the town."

This stopped him dead in his tracks, and my father turned slowly to face mum with an expression blended from fear and anger on his face. "What the hell are you talking about? What sort of nonsense is that?"

Mum sighed deeply, "George, I'm sick to death of you treating me as if I'm stupid," and threw one sample photograph in his face. "I want a divorce, George, and I want you out of MY house within 24 hours!"

"Sally, you must listen—it's not what you think—that was just an innocent kiss after a long technical session; Simon, please explain to your mother that there's nothing to worry about here."

Before I could answer, mum was back on the attack. "I see, George; and does that apply to the highly explicit and really quite revealing movie of you and Mistress Denise wearing her best latex outfit, with her foot on your head, lashing your arse and you pleading for more, you worm!"

My father turned a ghastly shade of grey, and I thought he was going to vomit there and then.

"Listen, George, if you go quietly and pay over to me half of your assets, a sum I estimate at one million dollars, then this matter will remain confidential. Fight me, and all your clients will receive a very interesting full colour document detailing all your extra-curricular activities. In addition, I will have a conversation with Ms Carlyle, mentioning the church authorities and ..."

She got no further. My father looked at us both with desolation written large across his face. "If you're determined to blackmail me like that, there's not much I can do." He clearly recognised the full implications of his choices, and continued, "I'll be out of here tonight and make the arrangements you're demanding. God damn you to hell, you spiteful bitch; she's your problem now, Simon, and good luck to you." So saying, he slammed out of the room, out of the house and out of our lives.

In the event, we learned that my father and Denise Carlyle relocated interstate and that subsequently, the divorce went through without a hitch.

Oddly enough, for the first few days after my father's departure, mum and I slept apart and other than some warm, tender kisses, did not take our relationship any further.

This changed when my mother came to me looking apprehensive and rather tense, saying, "Master, I need you to punish me. I need to cauterise the joyless relationship with your father out of my soul. Please, master, I beg you, punish me and let me get rid of this demon that is haunting me." So saying, she dropped to her knees and kissed my feet, then assumed the submissive posture I had taught her.

I thought about this briefly and came up with a plan, although it involved going further with discipline than we had ever been before. Still, I thought it might have the desired effect.

"First, Sally, I want you to tell me your safe word, and I want you to promise that you will use it if the punishment becomes too much for you to take."

"Oh master, the word is 'wombat' but I shall not use it. I trust you completely; I beg you, please punish me," she finished with a gasp. I left the room briefly, and returned with a large box that contained various pieces of essential equipment.

"Very well, slut. I am going to shackle your wrists and ankles." I produced a pair of cuffs which I fastened to her ankles, then to the chair legs. 

For her wrists, I used a lightweight spreader bar with attached cuffs. This sat behind her neck and I locked her wrists to it, which pushed her chest forward and highlighted her delicious breasts. While this was happening, my mother gasped and whimpered in anticipation, partly from excitement, partly from apprehension.

"Now, slut, you are locked into position and cannot move from the chair."

"No, master, but what will you do with me?"

"Well slut, next I intend to bind your tits to engorge them and make them much more sensitive."

Sally gasped and moaned, "Oh god, master, I've never ... oh god."

I took a long piece of soft cotton rope and looped an end around her chest and tied it off at the back. Then I passed the rope around her body again and twice around her right breast. The rope was looped around her shoulders under the spreader bar and twice around her left breast, finishing with two passes around the whole of her breast, again looping up around her shoulders. I was very careful that the rope was tight enough to increase the sensitivity of her nipples, but not so tight that it would cut off circulation.

My mother was gasping, whimpering and jerking against her bonds. When I was finished, I bit gently into her swollen nipples and she squealed, "Oh my god, what are you doing to me, I never realised ... oh master ... please ..."

I moved away from Sally briefly, then returned with a wicked smile on my face. "Well, well, slut, look what I've found."

Oh god, oh god, oh god—it's ... it's a flogger," Sally's voice cracked as she croaked out her fears.

"That's right, slut, now, beg me to flog your super-sensitive tits."

"Oh master, I don't know, I'm not sure I can take this, oh master, what shall I do?"

"I've already told you slut, now BEG ME for your punishment," I shouted at her.

Sally needed this punishment to rid herself of George's influence. She seemed to realise this, and looked at me with total trust in her soft brown eyes.

"Please master, I beg you, please use the flogger on my breasts. Please hurt me and purify my soul. Please!"

I first drew the tails of the flogger slowly and lightly across her tits, making her gasp at the unexpected sensation, then with a flick of my wrist, struck her puffy nipples. The effect was dramatic and immediate. Sally screamed and twitched as the soft suede strips struck her breasts. She writhed against the restraints and her head shook making her hair fly in all directions. Her screams were punctuated by loud, deep moans as the flogging continued. 

I could soon see that something interesting was happening, and I stopped the flogging briefly and wiped my finger across her pussy. It was soaking wet and flowing with her juices; this treatment was creating a rising climax for Sally, and I put my finger into her mouth. She licked and sucked it voraciously.

"So, the naughty little slut is getting off on her punishment, is she?" I asked.

"Oh Sir, I am so sorry but I can't control myself. I'm so surprised, but this is getting me worked up and the glorious hot sensation in my tits is transmitting itself straight to my cunt. Oh please don't stop, give me more, master."

Little rolling orgasms clearly showed through her moans and gasps and they needed to be transmuted into one huge climax.

Sally moaned her disappointment when I stopped the flogging, but then screamed at the top of her voice when I introduced a vibrator/clit stimulator into her pussy. She jumped and bucked her butt into the air in an effort to maximise the pleasure, which was steadily building. Then for the coup de grace, I removed the vibrator, causing another moan of disappointment, but the scream returned when I got down on my knees and licked along her perineum from her puckered arsehole to her throbbing clit.

I inserted first one, then two fingers into her sopping cunt while I rolled her clit with my lips, then bit gently into it. I knew then that the end was not far off. Sally's screams turned into an almost continuous ululation, punctuated by a torrent of meaningless words until she shouted as loudly as she could, "I'm cumming, oh my god, I'm cumming." Her scream was so loud, it hurt my ears, then she shook violently and went completely rigid as the orgasm thundered through her whole body, radiating from her cunt in a fierce flame of release.

As her scream quieted, my mother slumped forward, unconscious. I quickly released the shackles and cut away the rope with blunt ended scissors. I picked up her limp body and placed it on the bed, then massaged her breasts, using a soothing lotion to help restore circulation.

She recovered and looked up at me with tears of gratitude in her eyes. "Thank you, master," she whispered.

It was late by now, and I recognised the signs of her slipping into sleep. I knew that my mother was mine completely, body and soul. Nothing was forbidden and she would be available to me in any way at any time. What I hadn't reckoned with was that slowly but surely, I was becoming hers. Her warmth, generosity, willingness and sensitivity to my needs were taking me under her spell. Not that I objected in the slightest, although I knew without doubt that the fundamental Dom/sub relationship would remain firmly in place. My mother had not wavered from her need to submit to me, and the latest developments had even seemed to increase and strengthen that need.

I gently caressed her arm as it lay outside the covering sheet and she half opened her eyes, smiling with absolute happiness before she fell asleep.

*****************************

Thank you for reading this far. Please vote, and any comments gratefully received, even the negative ones, and I've got a reasonably thick skin. There should be one more chapter when time permits. 



A New Domination Ch. 03



This story continues the series from Chapters 1 & 2. It contains graphic references to BDSM, incest and other taboo sexual activities, so if any of this offends you, please read no further. All characters in this story are over the age of 18, and nothing in this story is meant to represent any person alive or dead. It is all the process of the author's fevered mind.

Once again I would like to thank Hatsuda for his support and editing excellence.

*****

I awoke one morning with what must be the most superb, the most lascivious sensation any guy can ever experience. My mother was working her tongue around my cock, bathing it with her moist lips and stroking my morning woody close to explosion. She knew from experience the signs of my impending climax, and used her well developed oral skills to keep me on the edge for what seemed ages. I howled in desperation while she laughed, a low sensuous sound, knowing that, for a short time, she was in control. And guessing that I would punish her in ways that would give her intense pleasure. She sucked a good part of my cock into her hot, mobile mouth, running her tongue around the crown and sucking me until eventually I erupted into her, seeming to empty everything I had into her willing, exciting mouth. She swallowed every drop, and then licked my shrinking cock clean.

"Oh Sir, that was really delicious; you taste divine, although I know I'm in trouble for not asking your permission. How will you punish me?"

I laughed. "I should punish you by not punishing you," at which her face fell. "But perhaps ten strokes with my hand on your bouncy bottom might send the right message. And maybe five strikes on each nipple with the suede flogger to reinforce that message. Well, slut?"

"Oh god, yes Sir. Show me how naughty I am. Teach me to be a good girl for you. Please?"

Sally, my mother, my sub, my slut had developed a real fascination for just sufficient pain to heat her bottom and her tits, which translated itself into her pussy, making her so horny that I might have had to restrain her—not that I ever wanted to.

"Very well, slut, gown off and over my lap, NOW."

She jumped to obey, a wide smile on her face, and her smooth, pink white bottom angled to meet my spanks. First a couple of gentle caresses to get her skin crawling, and I heard her soft whimpers of desire. Then five hard smacks on each globe which created squeals of delight.

"Now, assume the position on the floor in front of me."

She hurried to comply, kneeling upright with her legs spread wide, but her heated bottom resting on her heels. Her hands rested on her thighs with her eyes focused on a spot on the carpet in front of her. Picking up the flogger, I instructed her to look into my eyes during this punishment, and she looked through half closed lids with a sultry expression on her face. My mother was going to enjoy this as much as I did.

Each stroke of the flogger fell across her hard nipples, and she gasped with pleasure each time.

She looked up at me with desire flooding her eyes.

"Oh god, Sir, you have made me so hot and horny. I need you so much."

This was how I most enjoyed her, caught between her need to submit to me and her need for release. "Please." Barely a whisper, but it conveyed her overwhelming need better than any shouts or screams.

There would have been no point in me refusing; my brain was now totally located in my cock and it was giving me irresistible messages about taking my mother, and taking her hard.

"Yes, slut, on the bed: you will ride me hard for my pleasure. You will not cum until I give you permission, understood?"

A deep, sensual moan was all the answer I needed, and in seconds, I was on my back with my mother straddling me, her weeping pussy positioned just above my rigid member.

"Slowly, now, mother, just ease me into your pleasure pit," with which she moved downwards almost painfully slowly as my cock slipped itself into her and she mewled in approaching ecstasy. Equally slowly, she rose until only the head of my cock was lodged in her pussy, but then excitement got the better of her and she plunged down with a screech of need.

"Bad girl," I said as she rose again, and I slapped her bottom hard on both cheeks. "Slowly, I said, and I meant it. I will decide whether we speed things up, not you."

"I am so sorry, Sir," she gasped and repeated the slow rise and fall as my cock progressively filled and emptied her clutching pussy.

Then I made the decision, and grabbed her hips, pulling her down hard. "Now fuck yourself hard on my cock, mother, but don't cum until I tell you."

She gasped, and began a feverish rise and fall, enveloping me in her hot, wet, needy centre, calling out my name and telling me how much she needed me and how good this all was. The perfume of her arousal grew, an intoxicating aphrodisiac that I neither could nor wanted to resist. I reached up, pinching and twisting her nipples, which caused her gasps and squeals to grow and her demands to become more frenzied. Her cunt muscles told me that she was getting close to release, and I slapped her again to warn her that her orgasm was under my control.

This lustful activity was having a marked effect on me as well. I could feel my orgasm gathering strength in my lower abdomen and moving towards my balls. I gasped out my demands—"make me cum, bitch," "give me everything you've got," "cum on my cock, slut," "show me you belong to me, whore," and more.

She moaned and tried hard to delay the approaching storm which I knew, from experience would break in a hot, screaming fury. The effort to resist her climax showed in her face, screwed up in concentration and submission, until I told her, "I'm near breaking point, mother, and when my load hits you, you may cum yourself; just a few seconds more,"

Her effort grew more concentrated and demanding, before, with a shout of triumph, I conquered her, flooding her with a glorious load of sperm. It took no more for my mother to react. With a fierce scream of release she thrashed and writhed on top of me before her body went rigid, staying that way for a few seconds. Then she collapsed, her tits mashing into my chest as she gasped for breath.

After a short time, she rolled off me, then moved close, covering my face with kisses and murmuring words of love and delight. I held her in my arms, revelling in the warmth and seductive silkiness of her body, her skin glowing and her hands soft and warm, stroking my body. Reluctantly, I prepared for another day of study; mum made a little moue of disappointment, but she knew how important my studies were, and she shared my enthusiasm for moving ahead.

I was in the university library talking to Phil Weston, a contemporary. We were both enrolled in the same program; although he was a couple of years ahead of me. I had discovered that Phil had had an affair with the wife of one of the lecturers, and if that had come out, he wouldn't've lasted five minutes in the uni. He was complaining to me about his situation and talking about quitting his degree.

"Why, Phil; what's causing this?"

"My mother is getting more arrogant and more demanding. She's pushed herself really hard since dad left, and now she's pushing me hard as well. I wish there was some way of getting through to her, but she won't listen."

"You may have to take a strong line, Phil; she won't just buckle under because you're upset."

"Easier said than done, man," he concluded and we went our separate ways.

At home that evening, I said to mum, "Does the name 'Weston' ring any bells with you? I seem to remember you making some reference years ago, but I can't put my finger on it."

Unexpectedly, she blushed and cleared her throat. "Mmm—the woman who introduced me to Blake Sheldon was Ellen Weston; she had been a member of the cult for some time. Why do you ask, honey?"

My mind went into overdrive. "Oh no particular reason, mum, but I have a close friend at uni, Phil Weston, and I wondered whether there was any connection."

"Probably, honey; she had mentioned a son of about your age."

"Mum, would you be okay if I invited Phil round for coffee and a snack one afternoon. I'd like to introduce him to you—and all your skills and abilities!"

"Are you sure that's safe, Sir; we could get into terrible trouble and ..."

"Don't worry about that, mum. I want to show him how satisfying it is to have my mother as my sub, and maybe encourage him to do the same with his mother."

She gasped. "Oh god, do you think that's possible? Ellen Weston is a much tougher proposition than I could ever be."

"The bigger they come, the harder they fall, mum. Don't worry, everything will be alright?"

"Okay, Sir."

The next day, Phil and I were drinking coffee and I introduced the subject of incest. His curiosity was immediately obvious and I outlined my relationship with my mother. His eyes stood out on stalks and his voice shuddered as he said, "Man, that's just unbelievable. You've got to be kidding me."

"Well, if you are prepared to eat those words, come round to my place on Saturday around 4.00 pm and I'll show you."

He looked at me in astonishment, but nodded his agreement.

On Saturday precisely at 4.00 pm, the doorbell rang and mum invited Phil in. I had specified how she would dress; a floral sun dress with a flared skirt, no bra or panties but stockings with a garter belt and four inch heeled sandals. All this complemented by enough but not too much makeup but with scarlet enamelled nails. She looked delicious with her brown hair flowing freely around her shoulders and a light fresh perfume, the whole of which made a profound impact on my cock.

"Please come in, Phil," she greeted him with a dazzling smile and showed him into the lounge.

"I see you've met mum," I commented and he nodded, somewhat taken aback by her enticing looks. "Some coffee and snacks, I think Sally,"

"Yes Sir," she replied and left the room.

"Did she really call you Sir, Simon—or was she just being sarcastic?"

"Oh no, this is just the start."

My mother returned and, as per instructions I'd given her earlier, she was especially attentive to Phil, who lapped it up. She referred to him as "Sir" and was quite tactile, resting a hand on his shoulder and touching his arm as if by accident. I could see Phil getting quite excited and it was time to take it up a notch.

As mum re-entered the lounge, she tripped and some biscuits fell to the floor. Mother gasped and looked at me. "I'm so sorry, Sir what can I do to ..."

"I think a small punishment is due, don't you, slut? I think Phil would be quite interested to see how you take a spanking."

By this time Phil had turned red and his breathing was short and shallow. It was almost as if he was close to creaming his jeans.

Mother moved to me and leaned over my lap. I flipped up her skirt, showing the garter and her creamy bottom, perfectly positioned for spanking. I gave her ten hard slaps, five on each cheek and she squealed in her favourite mixture of pain and pleasure.

The punishment over, she stood in front of me saying, "Thank you, Sir; I deserved that for my clumsiness."

I moved her round between Phil and myself then slid my hand up under the skirt and stroked along her hot bottom as she whimpered with excitement.

I looked at Phil. "Why don't you do the same, feel how hot her bottom gets. I'm sure mum won't mind."

"Oh no, Phil, Sir, I'd be honoured if you would fondle my bottom; it would feel so good."

Not unexpectedly, he accepted the invitation, and mother mewled some more, shivering as he ran his hand around her globes, and then gave a quiet scream as he touched the saturated lips of her pussy.

"God, Simon, she's so hot and so wet. Is there anything she wouldn't do for you?"

"Nothing, Phil, she will do anything I say—in fact, let's try that out. I can't help noticing that you're getting a little, shall we say, enthusiastic; mother, give our guest one of your special blowjobs."

She dropped to her knees in front of Phil, unbuckling his belt, and with a little help from the man himself, pulled down his jeans and his boxers.

"Ooh nice," she crowed, taking Phil's rigid and drooling cock in her hand, then delicately licking the drop of pre-cum from the tip. She worked her tongue around and along the shaft and juggled his balls in her soft, warm hand.

Phil was in seventh heaven, gasping, "This is so good, I won't be able to last long."

"Don't worry, Sir, I can help you with that," and wrapped her fingers round the base of his cock, squeezing to reduce his growing climax. My mother played my best friend, bringing him close to orgasm, then shutting him down in one of the finest displays of cock-sucking I'd ever seen. Phil started to become delirious, begging her to let him cum, begging for release, but she continued to play with him until I winked at her, when she took his whole engorged tool into her mouth and sucked him hard to climax.

Phil yelled with delight, pumping his load into my mother's mouth; she swallowed it all, and finished by gently licking and sucking his shrinking cock until it was completely clean.

"Oh god, oh fuck," Phil was almost beside himself. "I've never had a blowjob like that before. Thank you so much, Sally, thank you Simon. So this is what I'm missing?"

"Probably, Phil. Listen, I want to show you something. Mother, fetch the DVD."

She soon returned and set the DVD going, showing her "marriage" to the phallus in the cult. Phil gasped in astonishment. "I don't believe it," he whispered. "That's incredible."

"Phil, your mother introduced Sally to the cult and to Blake Sheldon. So the odds are that she has a set of photos and a DVD like this hidden away somewhere. Find it, and you'll have all the leverage you need to make your mother your sub."

He stared at me, struggling to come to terms with what he'd just seen—and with the potential for him to dominate his own mother, making her his sex slave.

"Jesus, Simon, I'm completely blown away by all this. I had no idea, and I will certainly be combing every square inch of our place to find the evidence."

He said his farewells, and mother gave him a long wet kiss, and squeezed his cock, laughing gently at his enthusiastic response.

I looked at my mother after Phil left and she gave me a conspiratorial smile. "Did I do good, Sir?" she whispered coming into my arms.

"You were magnificent, mother, and you made a firm impression on Phil. Did you enjoy your little workout with him?"

"Yes, he's okay, but not a patch on you, Sir."

"Just the right answer mother. And right now, I'm feeling hot and horny, and you will pleasure me straight away." In anticipation of this torrid encounter, I shucked off my clothes in double quick time.

Her answer was immediate. She stripped off her dress, then fell onto her arms and legs on our deep soft carpet. "Please Sir, please take me hard, doggy style. I so want to make you explode after you fill me with your magic cock."

She gasped with glee when I slapped her bottom hard a few times to warm her up. Then positioning myself behind her, I slid my rigid member firmly into her already wet and waiting pussy.

"Ooh yes, Sir, it's you I want; have no mercy on me; fuck me hard."

This was a plea that I couldn't refuse and I increased my speed, groaning with delight as I hammered into her love channel. I changed again, concentrating on short hard thrusts that caused her to scream with pleasure, and with a rising climax. Her cunt muscles gripped at me, seemingly unwilling to let me go, and her cries became disoriented prayers for more to take her over the edge.

I knew that moment was coming soon, and so was mine. Her sweet, hot body, writhing and squirming under me was generating an inevitable detonation and I could feel my time getting closer. I reached round under her and pinched both nipples, twisting and pulling them, and this was enough to send her into orbit. My mother screamed with joy as her orgasm pulsed through her whole body, generating electrical discharges that caused her to shake and spasm. In turn her swelling, clutching love tunnel reacted with my swelling cock to cause me to discharge a goodly volume of hot sperm into her silky depths.

We lay panting on the floor before Sally moved down and licked my shrivelling cock clean, humming with pleasure as she did so.

"Come here, slut, and kiss me," I ordered, and her sweet wet kiss tasted of our fluids, an intoxicating mix that I always enjoyed. She made small sexually charged sounds into my mouth as she stroked my body with her warm soft hands.

"Simon, you are the only man that I can love unconditionally, who I can trust totally and who can do anything you want with me. I want nothing more than to give you pleasure and to prove to you that your fantasies can become reality."

"And you do that so well, mother. I feel the same way about you. Your need to be dominated and used and even humiliated reaches right into me, and I want to be your Dom to give you the pleasure you deserve."

Her kiss was everything a lover's kiss should be, and then she bit my ear lobe and ran away giggling.

About a week later, Phil caught up with me in the university library. "I've found them, Simon, I've found the pictures and the DVD; I made copies of everything and returned the originals to their hiding place, now to get to mother and force her to do my bidding."

Phil sounded almost ecstatic about his discovery, and his plans for his mother. 'Great' I thought, then, "Be careful, Phil—your mother is a tough and very successful woman. This won't be a walkover."

In his excitement, he merely acknowledged what I had said and continued with his plans to dominate his mother. A small alarm bell went off in my head, but I said no more and left it at that.

I heard nothing from Phil in the short term, which didn't concern me unduly. What did concern me, however, was the sudden and quite abrupt change in my mother's behaviour. At first there were only small indicators of coolness, but the situation blew up one evening when she said, "Simon, you need to return to your own bedroom. It isn't proper for a mother and son to be sleeping together."

I could hardly believe my ears. What on earth had got into her? "Sally, look ..."

I got no further as she interrupted, "Please don't use my given name, Simon, to you, I should be 'mum' and nothing more familiar."

"I'll call you Mrs Benson if you like," I replied with deep sarcasm.

"That's not necessary; 'mum' will do. And you should be aware that our physical relationship is at an end. I will not prostitute myself to you any longer. It is not right; it's both illegal and immoral, and I want no more of it."

"Mum, what's got into you? What's made you change like this?"

"I've had my eyes opened to the infamy of what we have been doing. I've been in touch with Ellen Weston and she has been very clear that this is just not acceptable."

"I see. Did she say anything about Phil?"

"She told me that he had tried to initiate a sexual relationship with her, but she told him not to be stupid and that it was completely inappropriate. Apparently he had told her about you and me, and she has encouraged me to break with you for my own good."

"Okay, mum, I'll go back to my own room, and be a good boy in future."

"Thank you, Simon, you won't regret this."

'Maybe not, mum,' I thought, 'but you sure will.'

I attempted to contact Phil over the next week but he seemed to have gone to ground. He couldn't stay away forever, though, and I eventually caught up with him in the campus coffee shop.

"Okay, Phil. What happened?"

"Oh god, Simon, I tried to coerce my mother into doing what I demanded but she called my bluff and I backed down. I didn't seem to be able to stand up to her, now she's twice as arrogant and full of herself as she was before. I can't see any way out of this mess."




A New Domination Ch. 03



"There is, Phil, but you're going to have to take a very tough line. I'll help you, in fact, I can take the lead in breaking her, then you can take over the control."

He looked at me with hope in his eyes. "What are you proposing?"

"I'll get mum to invite you both to our place for a meal. When you get there, we'll grab her and tie her down, then I'll go to work. Given the way she's behaving, I'll probably have to tie my mother up, too, but that shouldn't be a problem."

It was arranged; mum as very enthusiastic, and Ellen and Phil arrived the following Saturday evening, with Ellen looking as pleased as punch. She imagined that she'd had a big win.

I had not met Ellen before, and she was quite an imposing woman. Tall, about five feet nine inches in three inch heels, with hair so black that it had a slightly blue sheen to it. Its style was similar to that of Dr Lilith Sternin (Bebe Neuwirth), the ex-wife of "Frasier" in the TV series, who she somewhat resembled. Ellen's eyes were deep blue, a generous mouth and an oval, well proportioned face. Her legs were beautifully shaped, leading to a generous bum, below even more generous breasts 

I offered them drinks, then engaged in small talk, flattering Ellen, who was very susceptible to flattery and who started to lower her guard. After a short while, I looked at Phil who nodded.

"Okay, time to start," I said. "First of all, Ellen, take all your clothes off."

Her face turned black with rage. "Don't be offensive, you crude little boy. I most certainly will not."

"I see, Ellen ..."

"Mrs Weston to you," she interrupted.

"Be quiet, Ellen and listen to me. We can do this the easy way or we can do it the hard way. The easy way, you take your own clothes off. The hard way, Phil and I will do it for you."

"You filthy pig, you animal," she screamed. "I'm leaving here right now."

"I don't think so, Ellen," I replied, grabbing her by the wrists and twisting her arms behind her. "Cuffs, please, Phil."

He clicked handcuffs onto his mother and forced her backwards into a chair, tying her ankles to the chair legs.

"Help," she screamed. "Sally, help me."

"Oh dear," I sighed. "Mother, be sensible," but she moved towards her friend and received the same attention that Ellen had, being soon restrained on a chair.

"Now, Ellen we are going to release first your top half so you can start removing your clothes, then your bottom half so you can complete the job. Once again, we'll give you two options. Either do it yourself, or we will do it for you, and if we need to, we'll cut away every scrap of clothing."

"Bastards. Fucking bastards. I'll see you both in hell."

"Good-oh, Ellen, we'll be waiting for you at the gate. Okay, Phil, get the scissors, we're going to have to ruin her perfectly good clothes."

"No, wait." Our first victory; the first wedge driven into the wall of her defiance.

We removed the cuffs from her wrists and she slowly removed her blouse, then her bra to reveal nicely shaped tits—a little sag but just the right size with dark, crinkled areolas and beautifully shaped nipples. I was intrigued to see that they looked to be engorged; something had set her off, and the room was quite warm.

"Now listen, Ellen, we're going to remove the rest of your restraints and you will take off your skirt and pantyhose. But one false move, you'll be restrained again, and we'll cut everything else off. And I can't guarantee that we'll be any too gentle." She didn't resist; her face was still distorted with anger, but she was now more vulnerable. 

"Okay, Ellen, here's the situation. We know you were a member of Blake Sheldon's sex and domination cult and Phil has shown me the various photos and the DVD of your activities there. Your position is simple. Submit yourself to your son to become his sex slave, or risk everything in those photos going public. Your choice."

"No. Ellen, don't. Don't let yourself be degraded." This from my mother.

"Shut up, Sally. Any more from you and I'll gag you." She fell silent.

"Now, Ellen, what do you have to say?"

"I say, do your damndest. No one will take any notice of this filth. I'll claim it's all a fabrication put together by business rivals to discredit me."

"No, that won't wash, Ellen. Those photos are clearly genuine, and you can't claim they aren't of you. We'd be quite prepared to have a photographic expert certify that they haven't been tampered with. And it's a question of how we release them and to whom. Your business rivals would love to see them. Your women's clique would be fascinated. Phil's father would feel justified and would haul you arse back into court so fast your feet wouldn't touch the ground. Then there is the question of your reliability, you business soundness. Suppliers might think twice. Your bankers would hardly be impressed. Customers would have second thoughts. No, Ellen, for you, the easy way out is to simply do what Phil says. I'm sure he wouldn't be harsh with you, he would just need to use you to satisfy his desires."

I stopped and waited for this critique to sink in. She continued to glare at me, but I sensed some hesitation and returned to the offensive. "Just think carefully, Ellen. The public humiliation you would be forced to endure would be never-ending. No one would trust you again, and there will be a growing cloud of gossip, rumour, judgement and scandal. If that's what you want, fine, just go ahead and refuse to have anything to do with Phil, but like it or not, it IS the reality. The alternative is simple. Accept Phil as your master; yes, there will be some private humiliation, but it will never become public and you can go about your business unhindered.

The expression on Phil's mother's face was changing. The outright defiance had been replaced by uncertainty and an internal struggle. Now for the coup de grace.

"Ellen, how would you relish the prospect of being arrested as an accessory after the fact to murder?"

Her eyes sprang open in total amazement, and I heard my mother gasp.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Ellen demanded.

"Simple. As you know, Blake Sheldon died when the cult headquarters went up in flames. The police never identified the culprit, but it was thought it might have been the partner of a cult member. I know Phil's father was interrogated, but he gave the cops a convincing story, even though there were a few unanswered questions. For instance, how come you threw your husband out only days after the fire? How come he told Phil that he thought you were having an affair with Sheldon? How come he shouted at you, 'well that fixes Sheldon. You won't be seeing him again'?"

"Now this is all circumstantial, but I suspect the truth is that he confessed to you, and you threw him out. He agreed to a substantial settlement if you kept your mouth shut."

Ellen's face showed a combination of pleading and horror at the thought of her future. She had gone a dreadful grey/green colour and she gasped as she tried to speak. 'Bingo' I thought. 'Got you'.

"Please, I beg you, don't take this any further. I couldn't handle that publicity or stress, and I couldn't face the prospect of gaol time."

"No, quite, but you know the alternative. You become your son's mistress, his sex slave, his sub and you allow him to dominate you. Ellen, I'm going to put something to you. I may be quite wrong, but this isn't an uncommon scenario. I suspect that, deep down, you have a need to find sexual release with someone who can control you and make you obey them. You needed someone to control you in your personal life, but someone who you could trust. You needed to feel safe and secure, to be able to relax and let yourself go and thoroughly enjoy the experience. In other words, you needed someone who would control and regulate your experience of being dominated, but in ways where you would ultimately be safe."

"I guess you discovered that Phil's father didn't meet your needs in the bedroom, hence your relationship with Sheldon. I guess Phil's dad had little interest in you sexually. You couldn't get your needs met, so you sublimated them into a drive towards business success, where you became quite hard nosed, and which turned you into a hard, driven person, able to completely suppress all your sensual desires under a ruthless drive for success—and, probably for money."

"Ellen, this may be your last, your only chance to have your needs met. Your son loves you. He wants to help you, he wants you to realise all your suppressed sexual desires, and he will be a perfect partner. Yes, I know all about the incest taboos, but if you both care about each other and there are no official complaints, then you should be able to have a beautiful relationship. It's your call, Ellen."

Ellen's face changed. She went from looking beaten, defeated to an expression of acceptance, albeit with some hesitation. She looked across at Phil sitting quietly without revealing his anticipation. "Phillip, would you take a risk and release me, please?" Her voice was soft, laden with supplication. He moved to her and undid the cuffs on her wrists and the rope around her ankles. She immediately dropped to the floor, kneeling submissively in front of him. "I have been so wrong, and only now your friend has made me realise what is really important to me and how I can achieve what I most need. Please, master, make me your woman. I need you so much, and I will be so good to you, just let me know that you care so that I can lose myself in you and have you control me for your pleasure and my release."

Phil raised her to her feet and held her close, stroking the silken skin of her back and whispering in her ear. He turned to me, saying, "Simon, I don't know how to thank you for this. I owe you really big time, but I think mum and I will get going now if we may and get home and," here he laughed, "I think the expression is, 'consummate our relationship'."

I had known that since Ellen had revealed herself as a new woman, my mother had been sobbing quietly in the background. Phil and Ellen said their goodbyes to her in a rather subdued way, leaving us alone. I released her bonds, then left the room for a short while to gather my thoughts.

I returned to the lounge and stood looking at my mother with a set expression on my face. She trembled and sobbed, her eyes wide with fear, her face contorted in terror.

"Well, mother, what AM I to do with you after your wholesale betrayal? As this was not ENTIRELY your fault, I shall be lenient, for if it had been, I should have packed my bags and left you to your own devices."

"No, please no, oh god, don't desert me, Simon—I beg you, Sir, please stay with me; punish me in any way you feel I deserve, but please don't go."

"Very well, you treacherous slut, I'm going to flog you like you've never been flogged before, and I hope you will learn your lesson. Do this again, and I'm gone. Understand?"

"Oh yes, Sir, please whip me, flog me, show me how bad, how disloyal I've been."

I pulled my belt out of my jeans and flicked it through the air. "Right, you stupid whore, over the end of the lounge."

My mother bent herself over, her bottom quivering in anticipation of the punishment to come and posed at the perfect height for the purpose. Wrapping the belt round my hand, I struck, hard, drawing first a gasp at the pain, but I continued, lashing her backside as it got progressively redder. Her gasps turned to screams, the pain clearly becoming almost intolerable. Then I stopped briefly and she started to rise. 

"Stay where you are—I'm not finished with you yet." I then picked up a long thin leather "cane", flexible and obviously able to inflict severe pain. I lashed out, cutting her across her scarlet bottom, and her scream was harsh and uncontrolled. But so was I, seeing her and her betrayal through a fog of revenge.

More strikes, and suddenly my mother screamed through her agony, "Wombat, oh god, wombat."

I nearly dislocated my shoulder as I threw away the cane at the shriek of her safe word. The fog dispersed, and I saw the woman I loved laying on the ground in a foetal position, tears flooding down her face. I knew then that I had gone too far—the question was, how would she seek to revenge herself on me; I could almost hear police sirens in the distance. And then my world imploded in amazement; I could hardly believe what I heard.

"Oh Sir," she sobbed through her tears, "I am so very sorry. Can you please find it in you to forgive me? Please?"

"Mum .. mum, wh .. what on earth are .. are you t .. talking about?", I stammered. "I've just beaten you half to death and YOU want to apologise?"

"Simon, you don't understand. I needed to be punished; what I did was wrong and totally disloyal. I had to be punished, but I was a coward and used my safe word. I shouldn't; I should have just continued to take my punishment. Please forgive me."

"Only if you forgive me for hurting you so badly."

Her soft brown eyes still glistened with tears, but her smile was wholly loving and accepting, and my heart went out to her.

"I love you, mum, and I always will. Now, I have an instruction for you. Go to your bedroom and lay face down on the bed." She looked puzzled but did as I instructed.

I followed soon after, and spread a soothing cream liberally on her angry red butt, stroking it in to an accompaniment of purrs like a satisfied cat. She turned her head and looked at me. "Thank you, Sir. And will you please move back in with me tonight—I've been getting so lonely."

We returned to how we had been before the "Ellen incident", emphasising a powerful sexual relationship. My mother offered herself to me enthusiastically and with a sense of fun that may have been unusual in a D/s relationship, but it worked for us. 

A few weeks later, I received a phone call from Phil, inviting Mum and me to their place for a meal in a week or so. He told me that his relationship with his mother was working well, and that she was developing her submissive streak very strongly. He also told me how impressed she had been with my sense of control and my understanding of her predicament.

I was flattered but intrigued, wondering whether Phil had a "swap" in mind. I caught up with him later and sounded him out. He blushed slightly and confessed that he had been really taken with my mother and was planning a "swap" but only if I agreed.

I laughed. "I've heard of wife swapping, but mother swapping is rather different. Yeah, I think I would rather enjoy getting together with your mother and seeing how far I could take her."

"I don't think you'll have any problems there, Simon—she is one very hot, very responsive lady."

I told mum about this invitation and she responded with a smile. "You know, Simon, Phil is quite transparent. I knew from the beginning that he wanted to get into my panties. My real hesitation is how you will feel about it, Sir?"

"I'll be okay with that, mum—if you're okay with me taking Ellen for a ride. Could be an interesting evening!"

On the Saturday before we set out, my mother presented herself to me for inspection, and I came close to ripping her clothes off and taking her on the spot. She had piled her hair up in a careful coiffure and her makeup was on the verge of slutty, but not over the edge. She wore a white front buttoned blouse with ruffles down the front, a tailored skirt well above the knee, four inch heels with ankle straps and smoky grey seamed stockings. She looked good enough to eat, and I told her so.

"Do you think Phil will be able to resist me?" mum laughed.

"For about five seconds, then he'll turn to putty in your hands."

"Oh, I do hope not. I need at least one thing to stay hard and inviting."

I gave her bottom a playful slap and we left for Ellen and Phil's place. I had never been there before; it was an old style villa, high ceilings, solid brick and an air of comfort and subdued luxury. Phil opened the door and gave a quiet whistle of appreciation when he saw mum. He ushered us into the lounge and we looked around. "Nice place you've got here, Phil," and he nodded in agreement. I noticed a series of photographs of an attractive young woman; "Who's the young lady, Phil?" I asked "My sister, Jodie," he replied, in a rather offhand manner, "she's just turned eighteen and still lives with our father." 

Our conversation ceased as Ellen walked into the room, and she took my breath away. Dressed in a sleeveless V neck halter style dress in a soft electric blue fabric, tied behind her neck, it revealed a mouth watering cleavage, and was cut just above her knees. Five inch "fuck me" heels and the sheerest of stockings completed a ravishing ensemble that almost certainly included neither bra nor panties.

"Hello, Sally," she started as they air kissed, and she turned to me. Her voice became sultry and inviting. "Hello Simon. It really is so good to see you again."

Phil had a wide smile, and said, "We thought we'd eat buffet style; there's lots of things to eat and we can enjoy a few drinks. Mother, why don't you sit with Simon on that settee and I'll keep Sally company over here."

The fact that this was totally obvious didn't detract at all from the turn-on I was beginning to experience. And Ellen's luscious perfume was mixed with just an initial hint of female arousal which added to my enjoyment.

She turned to me with a wanton expression and said, "We thought it would be fascinating for me to serve you and for Sally to do the same for Phil. Then we can see what develops."

"Mmm, yes, Ellen, excellent idea," and I could see out of the corner of my eye that Phil was already groping my mother's tits while she fed him with finger food—and she was obviously thoroughly enjoying it.

Ellen offered me a canapé, making sure that her fingers went into my mouth, and I sucked them enthusiastically. She made small noises in the back of her throat, then brought a hand round to caress my face and down behind my ear. More food and more touching, mixed with suggestive comments about how I'd like to put some things in her mouth and be able to touch her where she would really enjoy it.

Ellen laughed, a smoky, sensuous sound, telling me anything would be okay.

I noticed that Phil and my mother had left the room. "Looks like we're alone, Ellen, how about we enjoy each other a little?"

"Yes," she breathed. "What did you have in mind?"

"I want to see that gorgeous body. Strip for me."

Not taking her eyes off me, she reached behind her neck and undid the halter top of her dress. It fell to her waist, revealing her breasts, proud and with almost no sag, two perfect handfuls just waiting to be possessed, the nipples already hardening.

I bent and licked around her left breast, tracing the areola with my tongue and rolling the nipple between my lips. She sighed and pulled my head closer, and when I bit into the engorged nipple, she screamed with the painful pleasure. I transferred my attentions to her right breast, again getting the same response.

"Now lose the dress completely, slut," I demanded, taking a chance on calling her a slut, but she hurried to comply. "Now wipe your finger along your slit and show me the result."

She did this, presenting me with a finger liberally coated in her love juice.

"Now, lick your finger clean and tell me what you can taste."

"Ooh yes, Sir, I can taste my arousal and it makes me want you to fuck me. Please, Sir, please fuck this slut. Please fill me with your swollen shaft and send me into orbit."

"Somewhere more comfortable, I think, Ellen," and she almost dragged me to her bedroom, throwing herself into the middle of her large bed.

"I beg you, Sir, please don't make me wait." I jumped onto the bed beside her, determined to keep her pulsating for a while longer.

I kissed down her body again, biting her nipples as she quivered and shuddered, then rimmed her belly-button before moving down to her smooth, shaved mound. She thrust herself upward, anxiously seeking my mouth, but I licked around her pleasure pit, tormenting her with my tongue.




A New Domination Ch. 03



She cried out to me, harsh and pleading. "Please don't tease me like this. Fill me up. I need your cock inside me; I need it now. Just do me hard, you bastard ..."

I needed to show her who was in charge, and slapped each tit hard, across her nipples. She screamed with the sudden pain and I told her, "Listen, whore, you get what I chose to give you and when I give it to you, nothing more. Now apologise for being so demanding, and if you humiliate yourself well enough, I might consider taking you."

"Oh master, please forgive this stupid slut. You got me so horny, so hungry for cock that I forgot who I was and let my needs become more important than yours. You can punish me any way you want master, only I beg you, please honour me with your steel hard tool and tear my worthless cunt apart."

"Not bad, slut. Now I want you to straddle me and ride me to climax, but you will not cum until I permit you to. Understand?"

She gasped and sobbed with pleasurable anticipation, and I rolled onto my back. She brought one leg over me and poised her throbbing pussy over my rigid cock.

"Now, whore, get the head of my cock into your slit and hold yourself there." She did so, and then I grabbed her hips and pulled her down roughly, filling her with my cock and causing her to scream with surprise, excitement and just a little pain.

"Ride me, bitch," I demanded, "and make it good, then I might just possibly allow you to cum."

She did as I said, her body pistoning up and down, her screams and moans getting louder, her tits shaking and bobbling in my face. "Yes, oh god, yes ... so good ... fuckfuckfuck, you're filling me up ... I'm getting close; please let me cum ... I want to cum all over your gorgeous cock."

My climax was getting closer, but there was more to do.

I was thrusting my cock into her hard and fast, generating my own pleasure as well as for Ellen. Then I reached up and pinched her tits, pulling and twisting the nipples and causing her to scream out in a pain barely distinguishable from pleasure.

"Mmm, that's what I like to hear, slut," I hissed, "Let me know I'm hurting you."

"Aargh, yes, it hurts but it's so good. Please, master, just let me cum; I don't think I can keep going much longer."

"Before you cum, whore, tell me who this pussy belongs to?"

"Ooh, my god, master," she moaned, "Yes, yes, yes, my cunt belongs to you. Use me whenever however and wherever you want"

I was now close to my peak; my breathing had become rapid and shallow, and I could feel the gathering storm in my abdomen, rushing towards my balls.

"Yes, bitch, you may cum after I do. Cum all over my cock." With this, I exploded a huge load of cream into her throbbing, gripping, searing cunt, shouting with the joy of conquest.

With that, she blew apart in orgasm. She shook like a tree in a gale, half screaming, half whimpering, thrashing on top of me while she met the thunderous climax that blasted through her cunt and into the whole of her body. 

She opened her eyes and gazed at me with longing and happiness. "Oh god, Sir, it's never been this good before. I never dreamed I could let go and erupt into heaven this way. So good. You've shown me something I never guessed existed, and I need it again very soon."

"I'm sure Phil can take you to the same place," I reassured her, but Ellen looked cautiously at me and made no further comment.

""I can hear Phil and mum still having a good time next door," I commented as I heard his shouts coming through the wall. "Time for a little more fun ourselves. Get yourself up against the bed-head, spread your legs and start playing with yourself."

Ellen did as she was told, and her hand was soon working hard into her wet pussy, two fingers disappearing inside. She writhed and moaned as her excitement rose, and I then took over, replacing her fingers with my tongue.

I spent time playing with her, bringing her to the edge of one orgasm after another, allowing her just the occasional plunge into delirium. As a condition of allowing her that delight, I made her say the things I wanted her to say, the things that showed clearly just how much of a slut she really was. She unashamedly begged me to fuck her, to use her arse whenever I felt the need, to spank her, to bite her tits, or to just fill her with my cum so she could go again.

Towards the end of this little game, I heard movement in the doorway, and my mother and Phil were standing watching this depraved show with grins across their faces. This gave me an idea. I stroked Ellen's clit just enough to keep her simmering, and she begged for release. 

"Mother, can you see how much this slut wants to cum?" I asked.

"Oh yes, Sir, she's almost coming apart as you stroke her needy pussy."

"Mmm, right, well, come over here and finish her off with your mouth, mother."

"Oh god, I ... I ... I've never done anything like that ..."

"Time to learn, then, mother. Shuck off the gown, come here right now and eat her out until she screams with ecstasy."

My mother moved somewhat hesitantly to the bed and worked her body between Ellen's naked thighs, She tentatively stuck out her tongue and started licking at Ellen's drooling, swollen love tunnel. The response was immediate. Ellen screamed, "Oh yes, please, that's so beautiful. You have a magic tongue, Sally—give me more, bite my clit, make me cum, oh god, make me cum, please, please bring me off mistress."

Phil and I looked at each other in amazement—Ellen calling my mother "mistress" as perhaps the last thing that either of us had imagined, but to me, the possibilities seemed almost endless.

My mother did as Ellen asked and worked her tongue, lips and teeth against her inflamed clit until she came in a long, ululating wail, shaking and thrashing and calling out in her lust.

Sally got up and wiped her mouth, not wanting to look at Phil or myself, and Phil went to Ellen, holding her protectively. Then, almost as if he didn't want the evening to end, Phil said, "Mother why don't we offer our guests a shower before they leave. It's been a busy evening?"

I agreed, feeling both amused and aroused; Ellen made it quite clear that she wanted to "wash my back". In the event, it was a most luxurious experience. Ellen joined me in the shower and we lathered each other, stroking and caressing in a mutual demonstration of lust and excitement. I resisted the temptation to take her again, although I think she may have been disappointed. I had my thoughts on another beguiling and inviting body.

We gathered our things together and said goodbye, Phil looking very full of himself as if he'd had a perfect evening, and Ellen looking at me as if I was some sort of minor deity.

The drive home was unusually quiet, and mum seemed preoccupied. I offered her a nightcap when we got back, and sitting in the lounge, mum turned to me and asked, "Simon, do you still love me?"

I was stunned. "Whatever gave you the idea that I don't? You are the most important person in my life, and nothing will change that. Now, just what's going on?"

"Well, I could hear you and Ellen in the next room, and she was screaming with delight, high on rapturous sex. I thought that, maybe ..."

I laughed, grabbing her in my arms and kissing her fiercely. "No, you silly girl, no one can take your place. All my erotic dreams are about you—the things I want to do to you, and the things we have already done together. Now strip for me, and I'll show you just exactly what I mean."

She laughed joyfully and was soon out of her clothes, dragging me towards our bedroom. She moved quickly into my arms and moulded her body to mine, making little mewling, humming noises of pleasure before I kissed her, soft and warm at first, but quickly developing into an all out lingual assault, our tongues writhing and working against each other, hot, wet, open and highly erotic.

I could feel the pressure of her tits hard and aroused, through my clothes. I stroked down her back and mauled her bottom, grasping and fondling the firm yet pliant flesh.

"Hmm, now, mother, your first task is to undress me so that we can compete equally. But I want to feel your hands all over me as you do so."

She kissed me again, wet and excited as she started the slow, tantalizing process of stripping me. Her touch was warm and eager, and by the time she removed my boxer's my rod was rock hard.

"Now, come here, slut and beg me to take you."

Her smile was smoky and lit by lust. "Ooh please, Sir, I am completely vulnerable to all your most intimate needs. You can do anything you want to me, just tell me how you want me and I'll be your whore."

My mother stood in front of me, still wearing the stockings, garter and heels—and an expression of such rapturous longing that I was almost tempted to throw her to the bed and rape her on the spot. I doubt that she would have resisted for one second.

I ran my hands over her body, concentrating on the swell of her breasts, the smooth roundness of her bottom and the so-familiar contours of her face. I kissed her ears, trickling into their regular shell-like contours, and licked down behind them to her neck.

This treatment was causing my mother to become frenzied, writhing in my arms and making inarticulate cries of hunger and elation.

I picked her up in my arms and placed her on the bed. She sprawled on her back, her legs spread wide in a carnal invitation, her pink outer lips coated in her dew and drawn back in expectation.

"Please, Sir, please fuck your slut. Please make me your special property. Own me, hurt me, make me scream ... oh god, I want you so much."

I proceeded to kiss my way down her body, avoiding her luscious mouth as it tried to capture mine. Along her neck, making her gasp and hum, then down to her breasts, kissing in a spiral from the outer swell into her crinkled areola to her rigid nipple. I bit hard, causing her to scream—but to sob for more. I turned my attention to her other breast with the same result.

Then I moved down, rimming her belly-button, eventually arriving at her smooth mound. I kissed around the outside, down to the soft skin on the inside of her legs, generating moans and demands for more.

The I kissed upwards, peeling open her engorged lips and rolled my tongue to push it into her wet, inviting depths. She screamed as she pulled at my head, seemingly in an effort to bury me inside her, and my tongue found her clit, standing proud of its protective sheath. I nibbled at her hardening clit, making her screams louder and more urgent, then moved up and with one long, solid thrust, entered her love tunnel as its muscles squeezed and embraced me, trying to drag me still deeper.

She hummed and gasped as I rode her steadily with long unrelenting strokes. I felt me own orgasm start to build, and the pure unalloyed pleasure of controlling and fucking my own mother, with her total obedient acceptance grew in me, coming ever closer to the surface.

I changed to short, hard, brutal thrusts, forcing her body into the bed, but being rewarded by screams of the heady mix of pain and pleasure that ruled her life. Her legs wrapped around me, trying to force me into her body and her nails clawed into my shoulders, any pain being anaesthetised by the sensual perfection of this incestuous coupling.

Neither of us lasted much longer. I had no intention of holding back, and my climax became unstoppable. My seed blasted through my swollen cock into the warm, welcoming receptacle of her cunt, and she screamed even louder as this triggered her own climax. She writhed and shook as the storm of her orgasm swept over her, leaving her rigid, almost catatonic, before she collapsed, seemingly boneless, a collection of exhausted nerve endings.

I fell to the side, breathing heavily for a while, then propped myself onto one elbow, looking down at my exhausted mother. Her eyes opened and smiled in complete satisfaction. "Yes," she whispered, "yes," then wrapped one arm round my head and brought it down for a long highly sensual, voluptuous kiss.

"Does that go some way towards proving how I feel about you?" I asked.

Her eyes were drowsy and sated and suffused with love. "Simon, you are wonderful, and I will never doubt your love. I am your willing slut, and whatever you want to do is perfect for me."

Then she gave me a slow, lazy grin. "You know, you are so much better than Phil. He seems to think that good sex is me laying on my back while he pumps his cock into me and then just cums. No wonder Ellen is so hung up on you. Watch out for her, honey, or I might have real competition."

"Jealous, mum?" I asked, but with the faintest of hidden agendas.

"No, honey, so long as you always come back to me the way you just did, you can fuck the arse off Ellen for as long as you like. In fact, I'd like to be there to watch and hear her squirm and squeal under you."

"And maybe exercise your newfound taste for domination, 'mistress'?"

"Maybe, but I'll always be your sub, Sir."

"Amen."

*****

Thank you for reading this far, and hopefully for voting. Please feel free to leave comments; I've got quite a thick skin, so even negative stuff doesn't faze me – much. I've left a couple of "hooks" in that could link to a Chapter Four, but that won't happen for a while as I have some other priorities. But maybe, one day ...



A New Domination



Mum moved on to another photo. "Sheldon fastened a collar round my neck, and I was led on all fours round the room, stopping in front of each cult member. They had taken their ... cocks out and rubbed or slapped them into my face. The sensation of a rigid cock being stroked against my face was unbelievable," Mum seemed to have gone into something like a trance, reverting to her experience of more than five years ago.

"Each week, one of the members was allowed to cum over my face, and I can remember that so vividly, especially the aroma of fresh warm cum—I found that so enormously arousing. On guy in particular had a huge black cock, and when he came, he almost covered my face with his spend. And I loved it—you can see it in this picture. I hoped he would cum on me every week, but it seemed to be on some sort of a roster."

"At the end of each meeting, there were two auctions. In the first, the "masters" made bids to determine who would have sex with me. It could be in any position, but could not be anal, for reasons that will be obvious in a minute. It could be oral or vaginal, and I know the winner was encouraged to make it as humiliating as possible. During the performance, the rest of the group made more humiliating comments." 

I didn't have to ask this time. "Things like 'take it all, slut', 'ride it as hard as you can and make it beg for release' or 'pinch its tits and make it scream' and more comments like that.

At the same time, my bottom was put up for auction, and this included anal sex. The highest bidder could do whatever he wanted to my backside, so long as he didn't draw blood or cause any internal injuries. Some of them liked to spank, paddle or flog me, one or two liked to bugger me and a couple liked to bite me, leaving bite marks that stayed for several days."

The harder spankings or floggings left marks as well, but they were all so erotically wicked that I came to depend on this demonstration of my submission to give me the sexual satisfaction I craved. I carried them around at home, secretly while I was being a wife and mother, but still with the evidence of my degradation hidden under my panties. There was something intensely arousing in knowing that my bottom was marked while I was later dressed demurely, handing around the mashed potatoes, washing up—or sitting in church."

This confession was having a marked effect on my mother and it seemed as if it was essential for her to admit to her actions as a means of exorcising those memories. However, it didn't seem to be working, as the confession was creating some kind of submissive high in itself. She was falling into a sort of submissive trance, returning to and reliving her experiences of five years ago. At the same time, she was pressing her legs together in an attempt to achieve some degree of stimulation, and her breathing became shallow and ragged.

"Mother," I said, "If you need to touch yourself, please just do it and don't worry about me." She looked at me with half-closed, hazy eyes and then reached down and undid the snap on her slacks and slid her right hand down to her sex. Very quickly, I could see her gently stroking herself along her pussy. 

One more photograph fascinated me; the picture of my mother being led forward with a wedding veil over her face. She looked at me with a very intense expression, and said, "Simon, honey, I won't be a minute," and left the room. She returned shortly after carrying a DVD case. "This bizarre 'ceremony' was videotaped and this is a copy converted to DVD."

"As the final stage of my initiation, I was 'married' to the phallus in a grotesque parody of the wedding service, and this is how it happened." My mother was led forward by one of the female acolytes and presented formally to Sheldon who asked, "Slut, the woman formerly known as Sally Benson, do you know of any impediment why you should not be bound to the phallus as the representative of the male procreative organ?" She answered, "No."

"Do you give yourself freely without any duress, coercion or compulsion to the service of the phallus?" Her reply was, "I do."

Then, "Slut, will you pledge your undying loyalty to the service of the phallus as it here represents the male procreative organ, and serve the male organ whenever and wherever you are required to do so?" To this she answered, "I will." 

She was then instructed to place both hands on the phallus and repeat the following words after Sheldon; "I take this phallus as the true representative of the male procreative organ, to have and to hold from this day forth, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in heath, to love, cherish, honour and obey until the time of my death." My mother repeated those words as required by Sheldon.

Sheldon then produced a ring in the form of a twisted golden cord and placed it on the third finger of my mother's right hand. She repeated at Sheldon's instruction, the words, "With this ring, I pledge my obedience to the phallus and shall worship it with the full extent of my body."

He then raised the veil from over her eyes and said, "Now, Slut, you must kiss the phallus and take it all into your mouth, demonstrating your submission to the sacred member." My mother did so, deep throating the glass object. She was then collared and led around to each member of the cult, sitting back on her heels and kissing, licking and sucking their cocks, bringing each one to orgasm but not permitted to take any cum in her mouth. Each finished by spraying over her body.

Finally, she was placed in the cradle and Sheldon forced the phallus into her upturned arse, this time with little preparation, causing her to scream with the initial pain. Then she took Sheldon's cock into her mouth, and in his case she again brought him almost to a climax. Sheldon then moved until he was lying on his back, and Mum was required to straddle him with the phallus still buried in her arse, and ride him to orgasm. She was told specifically that under no circumstances was she allowed to cum before he did; if she was able to do so after him that was a bonus for her.

During this whole bizarre performance, my mother watched intently, continuing to rub her pussy and almost reach a climax, but the end of the DVD caused her to stop. She looked around, embarrassed and quickly removed her hand, although I could see that it was glistening with her juices.

"How often do you watch that DVD, mother?" I asked, "Every day?"

"Oh no, Simon, nothing like that," she replied, a little too quickly.

"Every week, then?"

Mum blushed. "Well, I suppose ... perhaps every few days."

"Hmm, I see. This is obviously a very powerful reminder of your submission to the cult. You told me that you wanted to confess to me all your activities within the cult in an attempt to cauterise these memories, but clearly it isn't working. You are still intensely bound up with your experiences as a submissive slut."

I knew I was taking a risk referring to her as a slut, but this seemed to make no difference. She was miles away, seemingly in some sort of sensual overload, where confession of her actions had caused her to submit to her memories.

"Oh my god, Simon, what am I going to do?" she cried, suddenly breaking free from her fantasy.

"What do you want to do, mother?" I replied, deliberately avoiding any direct answer.

"I ... I so need to be able to submit myself to someone I can really trust. I need to be able to lose myself in the experience of submission, but know that I can be understood, supported and satisfied. I desperately need someone that I can establish an intimate emotional bond with and really be able to rely on so that I can surrender myself completely to them. I can give that person complete control over me, and let go of all the responsibilities in my emotional life. They can do anything they want to me or with me, Simon, but it's all about complete and absolute trust, like the trust I had with my grandmother. Then I can release all my inhibitions and be who I want to be." 

I stayed silent, knowing that there was more to come.

"Oh, Simon, I feel so lost. I just don't know what to do. I sort of trusted Sheldon, but the cult was so wicked, so decadent that I became addicted to it and its activities. At a deeper level, though, I still felt incomplete. There was no real personal bond, no individual that I could completely relate to and trust to give me what I so needed. After the cult dissolved, I tried to hide behind this disguise of propriety, religion and respectability, but it hasn't worked."

"Okay, Mum, but why did you leave the cult, then?"

"I had no choice, Simon. One evening I arrived at the house to find it was a smouldering ruin. I'd heard about a fire in that general area, but I hadn't connected it with the cult. Apparently, Sheldon had been killed in the fire; the police believed it was arson, but they never located the culprit. I wouldn't be surprised if it was an irate husband who discovered that his wife had been a participant, and took his revenge in a pretty spectacular way. Of course, that meant that the cult had collapsed, and I returned to my conventional suburban lifestyle."

Mum hesitated for a while, looking uncertain and rather desperate.

"I thought that leaving the cult behind and returning to being a traditional homemaker would allow my submissive element to fade away. I was foolish enough to keep watching the DVD, and that stirred something dark, dissolute and lustful deep inside me that wouldn't be denied. Now you've found the photographs, Simon, and I thought that reliving my experiences and confessing to you would exorcise the demons. But it hasn't; it's made my desires more powerful, more demanding that I do something about them." 

Here, Mum burst into tears. "Oh god, Simon, what am I to do?"

"One quick question, Mum, and please be honest with me. Did you leave those photos there knowing or even hoping that someone would find them? How would you have reacted if it had been Dad?"

Mum looked at me and I could see a flood of emotions crossing her face. "I guess I did want this dirty secret exposed so that I could confess. I don't know how your father would have reacted; underneath it all, I suppose I hoped that he would realise that I needed help and been prepared to take a more active interest in my sex life. 

When I realised that you had found them, at first I wanted to run and hide. But then I started to feel excited and so naughty that I was confessing all this erotic stuff to the son I loved so much.

Confessing to you plunged me back into submission. The very act of telling the stories behind the photos took me back powerfully to the experiences themselves, and I became so aroused at the memories and the raw sexuality of what happened. Now it's over, I just don't know where to go or what to do." 

"What do you most want to do, Mum? Would you like psychological or psychiatric treatment to rid yourself of these desires?"

"No, Simon, it's part of who I am, and I'm not ashamed of how I feel. It's just that I can't find anyone who will take me seriously and who I can trust."

"Okay, Mum, how about Dad? Could you make a confession to him and beg that he will treat you as you need so much?"

"Simon, I have tried that or something like it. He thought that I was just depraved and I needed to cleanse myself of this unhealthy obsession. He wanted me to talk to our minister and seek God's help. I sidestepped this and never brought the subject up again, and I don't intend to suffer that type of humiliation again."

"I see—maybe you'd have had more success if you'd stuck a couple of golf balls up your arse!"

Mum tried to look stern and said, "Simon, how could you think such a thing," but she betrayed herself by laughing.

"Um, maybe not, Mum, but have you thought of trying to find a professional Dom, someone a bit like Sheldon, perhaps, but maybe not quite so extreme?"

"That did occur to me, honey, and I have made one or two tentative enquiries, but the trust issue just gets in the way. I guess I'm just condemned to a lifetime of vanilla sex with a man I hardly know, maintaining a respectable façade but dying inside," and she again burst into tears.

I moved over to my mother and took her in my arms as she trembled and shook against me. I knew the answer, but the problem was to sell it to her so that she would be able to accept it.

"Mum, there is an answer, but it will depend on your willingness to engage in something both illegal and immoral."

She looked at me, puzzled and intrigued but worried about the implications.

"Okay, here goes nothing," I thought to myself. "Mum, how much do you trust me?"

She smiled. "To the ends of the earth, honey, and beyond. Why do you ask?"

"Then I will be your Dom and you can submit to me."

She gasped and her hands flew to her mouth. "Simon, no, I couldn't possibly do that. You're my son and I love you like a son, but I couldn't allow you to have a sexual relationship with me."

"Why not, Mum—give me one compelling reason why it shouldn't happen?"

"It's illegal for a start, it's totally immoral, I'm twenty years older than you and what about your father? There, that's four reasons!"

"None of which is compelling, mother. Yes, it's illegal, but, as Bob Dylan once said, 'In Jersey anything's legal, as long as you don't get caught'. That's the point; we would have to be very careful, but that needn't prevent us enjoying each other. The same comment applies about Dad. In addition, he's hardly ever here, and he's so self-involved that he probably wouldn't even be aware of anything going on. 

As to immorality, well, maybe, but that's more a question of us being willing to square our own consciences. From my point of view, if two people truly love each other as I love you, Mum, and I think you love me, then morality is irrelevant. We should be able to do anything we both enjoy. Finally, Mum, age really doesn't matter. You're a sweet and gorgeous but needy woman and I'm convinced that I can help you to meet that need."

"Simon, I ... I just can't get my mind round this. You've really stirred a hornet's nest in my head and I need time to think this through."

"Fair enough, Mum—anyway, it's getting late and I'm hungry. Why don't we sleep on this and talk again tomorrow?"

She was very hesitant, but agreed with a great deal of uncertainty. I knew then that she would become my sub and be able to refuse me nothing. I had to masturbate that night, and my orgasm was volcanic; one of the best ever.

I was up before Mum next day, but I soon realised that she was doing her best to avoid me. Eventually, I found her in the lounge; she looked pale and drawn and she told me she hadn't slept well.

"I understand, Mum; I guess this whole Dom business has been on your mind."

"Simon, I feel so confused, so uncertain, so scared so ..."

"Excited?" I added quickly.

She blushed a deep red and just nodded her head in agreement.

"You can't really escape from all this can you? You've tried, but I suspect that you don't really want to, even if the implications are a bit out of control."

She nodded her silent agreement again.

"Okay, Mum, here's what's going to happen. We are going to resolve this issue once and for all, as well as explore whether you can face being my sub. I promise I won't hurt you, but you must be prepared to trust me completely and do everything I say. Are you okay with that?"

This time, she spoke her agreement, very hesitantly and sounding quite scared.

"We need to re-enact some of the scenes shown in the photographs," I told her. "You will remove all your clothes, then return here wearing only your five inch heels and your pearl necklace. And your makeup will be the same as in the photos—slutty."

I sat and read while I waited for mum to return. Later, I heard the unmistakeable click of high heels on a hard floor, a sound that I always found remarkably erotic. Mum returned dressed as I had instructed. She had applied her makeup skilfully with understated eye shadow but overstated glistening lip gloss and gleaming, blood red nails. Her hair was carefully styled in the same way that she always wore it for church. The contrast between this and her nakedness was unexpected but surprisingly exciting.

Mum's body looked delicious. Her skin was silky smooth, and a little pale. Her breasts were full and sagged only slightly, and although the room was warm, her nipples stood out hard against wrinkled areolas. I saw that she had trimmed her bush to a neat brown patch of what looked like soft, unusually fine hair.

"Excellent, mother, now lock your hands behind your head—I want to see those beautiful tits to their best advantage.

She blushed furiously as she did so but was clearly uneasy. "Simon, I ... I don't know ... I don't think I can ... Isn't there some other way?"

"No, mother, and in any case, what are you afraid of? If it's about losing control, you will have to trust me; even in the cult you had a safe word, so we will use that."

"Yes, Simon, with Sheldon it was always 'wombat'."

"Good. Now mother, tell me exactly how your hands were bound behind you."

"Sheldon made me knee in front of him with my body upright. Then he took both my hands and pulled them behind me, tying them with a silk scarf."

"Like this one, mother?" I asked, producing a scarf I'd bought for the purpose.

She gasped and answered weakly, "Yes, just like that; Simon, what are you going to ...?" but I silenced her by putting my finger against her lips.

I moved behind her, and taking her hands in mine, pulled her arms behind her back and tied her wrists with the scarf. "Just like that, mother?''

"Yes"

As she answered, I opened the zip on my pants and with some difficulty, took out my rigid, straining cock, starting to stroke it in front of her face.

Her eyes went wide and there was a look of astonishment on her face. "Oh my god, Simon, what are you doing?"

"Tell me mother," I demanded, "what am I doing?"

"Simon, no, please, this is so wrong, you must stop."

"Stop what, mother?"

"What you're doing to ... to your ... to your penis."

"Wrong, mother," I said and walked closer to her, slapping her across the face with my rigid cock.

"This is my cock, mother, now, what is it?"

"Oh god," she moaned, "it's your cock," in a whisper so low I could hardly hear her.

"Louder, mother, what is it?"

"Your cock, it's your cock," this time she was almost shouting.

"Much better, mother, now what am I doing with it?" I demanded again, stroking it so that pre cum started gathering on the head.

She seemed almost mesmerised, gazing intently at my cock, pulsing and growing in front of her eyes.

"Uh, you're ... you're stroking it ... stroking it to a climax."

"That's right mother. Guys love to stroke their cocks. Tell me, mother, do you think it's appropriate for a son to stroke off in front of his decent, respectable, polite, church-going mother? Don't hesitate, mother, tell me?

"No."

"You're telling me that it isn't appropriate for me to jerk off in front of my mother, but the truth is that there's a part of you that LIKES it, that likes to watch, that gets excited watching me get close to orgasm—isn't there?"

"No." In spite of her denial, I could hear the desperation in her voice. She needed to let go. "Simon, how could you do this to me, your own mother; how could you degrade me by asking me these questions and masturbating in front of me?"

I walked slowly around her kneeling form, taking my time and occasionally stroking her smooth, slick skin. She was trembling and shuddered as I touched her.

"Wait there, mother, I shall be gone for less than a minute," I said and left the room briefly, returning with two framed photographs. One was a portrait photo of my mother, dressed very primly in her "Sunday-go-to church" outfit, looking thoroughly decent, but with a smile that barely touched her eyes. The other was a still, taken from the "wedding" DVD, showing mum with the veil pushed back and about to deep throat the glass phallus. The look on her face was of someone totally consumed by lust.




A New Domination



"Tell me, mother, which of these photographs is the real you?"

"I ... I ... I don't know; you can't ask me to answer a question like that, Simon, I just can't, ... I mustn't ..."

I wasn't going to let her off the hook. "Look at your expressions in these pictures, mother. The photos don't lie and nor will you!"

I stood close to her stroking my cock with more pre cum gathering at its tip. My mother seemed almost to be in a trance as she looked at it. 

"Oh god, I ... I." She looked up at me with a mixture of desperation and pleading in her eyes. I maintained a mask of stony indifference, even though underneath I too was boiling with lust.

"So which is it, mother, tell me NOW," I finished with a shout, and this was enough to cut through her crumbling resistance

"I'm ... I'm the slut in the second photo, worshipping the phallus. That was the time I felt really alive. The person in the other photo was a phony, someone I made up to hide my real feelings behind a mask of respectability and modesty."

"Hmm, very good. Now you can admit it to me. Somewhere deep down inside, mums, especially you, like to watch."

She looked at me and whispered, "Yes"

"Yes, what Mother. You must SAY THE WORDS!"

"I ... I ...I like ... it."

I moved behind her and took her pearl necklace in my hands, twisting it until I felt some resistance. "What is it that you are prepared to admit to liking, even if you are so reluctant?"

She gasped. "When guys do ... inappropriate things, nasty things."

"I see. Tell me, mother, do you think it is "appropriate" to use your word, to display your naked bottom to a room full of strangers and to have a glass phallus inserted deep into your arse? Is it appropriate to worship that phallus with your mouth, deep throating it. It wore off all your lipstick didn't it mother?"

There was no answer, so I went to the next level. "Was it 'appropriate' to allow your cunt or your mouth, as well as your bottom to be auctioned for men's pleasure?"

This time, she whimpered but could not find an answer, so I pushed her again.

Was it "appropriate" to go through that grotesque, warped "marriage" to the glass phallus, representing the male reproductive organ, representing all men's cocks? And then to masturbate while you have the glass cock in your arse and Sheldon's cock in your mouth. Are these things "appropriate", mother? Answer me, mother!" I finished sternly, allowing he no way out.

"Simon, I don't know whether those things are appropriate but I thought so at the time. I had no option. I needed to submit in that way. I needed the rush it gave me, I needed to be the slut they said I was. I needed the release and being able to give complete control to someone else. Now I realise that I am still the prisoner of my past and I can't do anything but accept my fate. I've been condemned to the flames"

"I see. Well, perhaps we need to do something about that. You will go to your bedroom and prop yourself against the bed-head. Open your legs as wide as you can, then masturbate to orgasm. There are some conditions to this, however. Firstly, you will look into my eyes for the whole time you do it, not taking your eyes off mine at any stage. Secondly, you will not climax until I allow you to. Thirdly, as you masturbate, you will tell me, in detail, all of your fantasies about control in general and about me in particular. Is that clear?"

Mum nodded in agreement, but with some hesitation and left for her bedroom; I followed shortly after.

By the time I arrived, Mum was in position, but I forestalled her. "First, Mum, do you still have the ring from your "marriage?"

She whispered, "Yes," and I instructed her to find it and place it on the third finger of her right hand, which she did.

Back in position, my mother looked at me intently and wetting her right index finger, started to stroke up and down her soft pink slit. Her outer lips began to open and her saliva lubricated her pussy until her bright pink, perfectly shaped inner lips started to glisten with her own dew.

She alternated her stroking by inserting first one, then two, then three fingers into her now soaking cunt, and started to moan and quiver with excitement.

"Very nice, Mum, now don't forget that you need to reveal your innermost fantasies."

She gasped and shook but couldn't seem to find the words. She continued to look deep into my eyes, and I refused to allow any softening of my demands for her revelations.

"Oh god, Simon," she stammered, "You are taking me back to my days with the cult and I can only remember the sensations that I felt when I was able to submit myself wholly and without reserve to their demands. I so need to experience that again—but I don't know how," she finished with a deep moan.

"No, mother, now you need to be completely honest with me. The truth is that you do know how, don't you?"

"Oh Simon, I can't ... I mustn't ... it's so wrong." She was now shuddering with her need to reach a climax and her hand continued to move in, around and across her pussy steadily and through increasing wetness, just flicking the tip of her engorged clitoris. She also used her free hand to pinch and pull her nipples, sobbing with the mixture of pain and pleasure she was inflicting on herself. "Please, Simon, please just let me cum, I can hardly stand this any more." 

"No, mother, not until I know the whole story."

"Oh Simon, don't keep me strung out like this, I need to cum so badly."

"You know the rule, mother, now tell me," I barked.

"Aargh, oh god, alright, alright. Your cock ... your cock ... I NEED your cock. I went back to the so-called marriage ceremony where Sheldon married me to the phallus and then took me himself. But ... but ... but ... this time it wasn't Sheldon who took me. It ... it was y ... it was YOU. Oh god, Simon, I want you to control me, make me do naughty, nasty things. Make me do what people say is wicked, perverted and evil. I want you to dominate me. I want to be your slut, your bitch, your whore, just for you alone. You are the only person I can really trust and I need you so very, very much," she whimpered in a voice that was now choked and almost incoherent. Then in the same low voice she begged, "Oh Simon, please I'm desperate—please, I beg you, let me cum."

I managed to say, "Now I think we understand each other, mother. When I count to three, you may cum. One." She moaned and thrashed on the bed.

"Two." A five second pause, then, "Three."

My mother shook violently and screamed, an almost animal howl. Her body shuddered, then went completely rigid before she screamed again as her climax reached its peak. Then she sobbed loudly as she came down from this monumental orgasm and I joined her on the bed, holding her in my arms,

She looked at me through tear streaked eyes as if trying to gauge my response to what she had told me.

I had one final demand, "Mother, take off the ring and put it onto the third finger of my right hand. It won't quite fit, but that doesn't matter."

She did as I instructed and I continued, "You are now married to my cock, and it will rule your life. Do you understand?"

She seemed to reach some sort of conclusion as she simply whispered one word in my ear.

"Master."

*

Thank you for reading this effort. Any comments or feed back, hopefully constructive, will be welcome.