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Practical Insanity Ch. 01

By: kinked_a_bit



"Another case of practical insanity," thought Susan Helmand as the door closed behind the patient who had just passed through it. She shook her head and thought about how many of them she had seen over the years. The Psychology textbooks didn't have a name or description of it, but she had become more and more convinced that it was a specific condition, and one with many sufferers.

Practical insanity was her term for people who, particularly when it comes to relationships, do things that any rational person could easily see would lead to trouble. These patients led otherwise normal lives, showing up for work on time, doing an adequate job, engaging in hobbies or other pursuits, and yet seemed utterly clueless when it came to relating to another human being on intimate terms. Not only were they deficient in the ability to choose a prospective partner and to make good decisions on how to conduct the relationship, but they seemed incapable of learning or improving their skills in this area. 

A woman she'd seen earlier that morning was having difficulty breaking off a relationship with a man who apparently had a drinking problem, a gambling problem, and a truth problem. But somehow, in spite of his on-again, off-again attentions and the fact that every single 2 hour trip so they could be together had been made by her, not him, she had convinced herself that she loved him and that the two of them "had something special." No word yet on what exactly was special about it, but whatever it was kept her making a fool of herself over and over again. A normal woman would have long since tired of that nonsense and been on to greener pastures.

The one who had just left the office wasn't much better off. She was dating a man she'd met online who lived four hours away. Difficult, but not unheard of, and not always unsuccessful. This one though was a Wiccan. Hearing that, she decided that she too was a Wiccan. Compatibility, or at least the willingness to take on the other person's interests – fine. Unfortunately, in this case, it opened her to charges, by the girls in his coven, of putting him under a spell and sending hexes and bad mojo against them. And her prince charming believed it and she fought valiantly to hold onto him, even after learning that he was susceptible to such nonsense, even after learning he was screwing everything he could catch, and even after finding out that just about everything he'd told her about his life was a lie and that his parents were still supporting him in his 40s. She was in love too. In love with what? A version of a person that she knew didn't even exist. Practical insanity. 

There was probably a best seller in here somewhere if she could find the time to write it, but that time wouldn't be today. Her son, Jim, was going to swing by and give her a ride to the dealer where her car would, hopefully, be ready for pickup. Assuming it was, perhaps they'd have a bite to eat and catch a movie. She hadn't seen a lot of him since he'd moved out. Not that he'd gone far, he was finishing up grad school across town, but he had a life of his own and pursuing it took time. 

Besides, it's not as though she'd been the most attentive of mothers, certainly no June Cleaver. During his formative years, she'd been busy forming other, more troubled minds. Her practice had flourished and she'd written successfully in several journals of psychiatry before hitting the best seller list with a work in the self-help genre. She was respected in her field, accomplished in her practice, and a published author who had achieved modest commercial success.

She was also alone since the divorce. Jim's father had also been a psychiatrist. He'd never had quite the same drive she did and in time he grew to resent her achievements. There were probably a lot of other reasons, but she didn't spend a lot of time analyzing herself or her marriage. There's no money in that and it tends to make a person a little too introspective for her taste. At any rate, Frank was gone. She and her Italian Mastiff, Sig were the only inhabitants of the house her book deal had paid for. 

It was a nice enough house in a nice enough neighborhood. It wasn't pretentious, didn't make her look like a climber, but at the same time had all the comforts one might expect at a level of affluence that fell just short of having a live-in maid. Isabelle came twice a week and that was plenty, thank you. How much help could one person living alone really need anyway? 

Sunlight glinted off a moving windshield outside her window and she saw that Jim had arrived a few minutes early. That was a pleasant surprise. Usually he was running late, arriving with some excuse about having been busy or having lost track of time. She didn't really mind. He'd inherited her urge to get things done and his father's inattention to detail. There didn't seem to be much remedy for it, but she was pleased not to have to listen to the song and dance today. 

Stepping out onto the curb she felt a whisper of breeze under her skirt, caressing her naked thighs and reminding her she'd left her underwear at home today. It wasn't an everyday thing, just occasional, and the occasion was usually a need to be reminded she was a woman. She chuckled wryly. Was she flirting with herself? She certainly didn't flirt with anyone else. Better jot some notes on this, might make a chapter, or at least a paragraph or two, in the next book.

"Hey mom. I finished a paper earlier than expected so I came on over. Thought I'd surprise you by being early for once." 

"Indeed you did. Thank you for doing this for me. The dealer was great about coming to pick it up¸ but said he wouldn't be able to deliver it back until tomorrow. I guess half-service is still better than none though."

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"She looked good, sounded good, seemed to be saying all the right things," Jim thought as he followed her Mercedes coupe back to her house. But she still seemed lonely. Maybe she was. She wasn't much for sharing details of her personal life now that dad was gone. She might be dating, might not. He thought maybe he should ask, but the question seemed so far out of context for them. 

It had been decided that he would come for a "home cooked meal" just like he grew up with. What that meant was that she'd order something to be delivered while they sat and talked or had a swim in the pool. It happened at home. It was a meal, and it was cooked. That was a home cooked meal in the Helmand household.

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Out by the pool, they waited for the curry shrimp to be delivered from the nearby Thai place. The conversation was starting to pick up, eased by the beginning of the second beer and the effect of the first. She told him a little about the Practial Insanity idea and how she might be able to work it into another book, and he volunteered that his studies were going particularly well since breaking up with Jill or Jenny or Judy or whatever her name had been. 

Susan didn't pay that much attention to the girls that came and went through Jim's life. They had always seemed so interchangeable. She was happy to see that he wasn't hung up on one particular "type" as she always thought that was the mark of an immature man. He'd shown a preference for blondes over the years, no doubt because she was blonde, but it wasn't a rule and he'd varied from it many times.

"Mom, is that the same swimsuit you used to wear when I lived here?" He knew it wasn't, but it may as well have been. She'd worn the same pattern all his life. It was a one-piece, always patterned, usually black and white, but sometimes in bright colors. The cut was medium on the hips and medium in the front. On most women it would have been a bit bland, maybe even boring, but her figure let her wear it well. She was busty, with strong legs, and a waist. He'd noticed as he became more aware of women rather than girls, that if a woman had a small waist, everything else usually sorted itself out.

"You know it isn't the same suit. Yes, it's another version of my mom-suit, but I just got it a few weeks ago when the weather turned warm. Do you hate it?"

"Don't be silly. Of course I don't hate it. You look nice."

"Nice," she thought. Well, if she ever did start dating again, she'd need to do better than "nice." She made a mental note of it and heard the doorbell. "Sounds like food, hon. Would you get it? I'm feeling a little buzzy from the beer. There's some money on that table near the door."

She realized as soon as he'd gone, that buzzy or not, she had to go to the bathroom. Pulling a wrap around her so the delivery boy wouldn't see anything he shouldn't, she went to the hall bath. Sitting down, she noticed that in her haste she hadn't fully shut the door and as she shot a hard stream into the toilet, she hoped they couldn't hear it as they exchanged food and cash at the front door. Surely not. She got up, wiped, and shut the door securely before letting her suit slip to the floor. Studying herself in the mirror she decided, as she did every single day, that she was still an attractive woman, even if she had recently turned fifty-eight. 

The trouble that Jim had put her body through some twenty-six years ago was nowhere to be found. Her stomach was flat and unmarked. Her tits hung a lot lower than they did back then, but they were still heavy and full. Legs were solid, and always had been thanks to good genes. She shaved her pussy, as was the current fashion, but it was more for herself, more for these appraisals, than anything else. It wasn't as though anyone else ever saw it. She was softer than she used to be, but the shape was pretty consistent and all in all she was pleased with herself. 

"How does it look?" she called as she came back out onto the patio.

"The food looks great. I was thinking maybe we could eat a bit, swim a bit, eat a bit, so I put the food and drinks at the edge. I didn't plan on coming over today, so I didn't bring a suit, but I figured my boxers will do, and I'll have my shorts dry for when I go home. Ok?"

"Sure," she answered, not because she wasn't enthusiastic, but because the beer was really going to her head and it was a lot to process. "This is really nice, Jim. I've never done this myself, never even thought of it. Thank you." 

The water, the beer, and the spicy food were all working together to produce an all-over, body and mind pleasure sensation. People went on vacation for this and she was getting it in her own backyard. Amazing. She'd caught herself looking at Jim a couple of times, a little too long, a little too studiously, and she hoped he hadn't noticed. He reminded her a lot of his father, but better. Young men his age worked out a lot more today than they did when she was his age. Jim wasn't an athlete or a bodybuilder, but he was still hard and muscular. 

Her inner mother kicked in and she worried that he might have taken steroids. She'd read a lot about that lately, and before she knew it, she heard words coming out of her own mouth, "Jim, you haven't been using steroids have you?"

"No! Mom! What are you talking about?" 

"Well, you look so strong, and I've seen so many articles lately, and I worry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to accuse."

"It's ok, mom. I have been working out more lately since I broke up with Jane. Good to know it shows! 

Again she heard odd words coming from her mouth, "Oh, it does honey. It does." 

She really needed to lay off the beer for a few minutes. Maybe a swim would clear her head. She turned her back to the wall, silently ducked under the water, and pushed off with her feet, gliding as far as she could before starting smooth, effortless strokes.

Jim felt the end of his cock push out through the hole in his boxers. He was getting hard. What the hell? It was mom. A little drunk, but still mom. She seemed like she was almost flirting with him. She must be lonelier than he thought. Maybe it was time to head back to his apartment for the evening.

Practical Insanity Ch. 02



That night, as he lay in bed, Jim wondered about the events earlier that evening. There was no doubt that his mother had been intoxicated, and no doubt that she'd been a little bit flirty. But was there any more to it? He hadn't ever been one of those guys you read about in stories, masturbating to thoughts of his mother and stealing her panties. It's not that he found such ideas repugnant; they simply had not occurred to him, and by the time he'd heard whispers of such things he was already busy with girls. Try as he might to chase these ideas out of his head, he couldn't help drifting off to sleep to mental images of her, by the pool, wearing a lot less.

Susan didn't doze right off to sleep either. Jim had gone home earlier than she'd have liked. She didn't let that ruin a good buzz though. She had another beer or two and stayed in the pool for a while. She even stripped off her suit for a little skinny-dipping. Why not? It was her house and the pool was very private. Later, in bed, she thought about the evening and how odd it had been. As a practicing psychiatrist she knew a bit about rationalizing. People paid her to listen to them rationalize all day. She'd be damned if she was going to start rationalizing her own behavior. No doubt she'd been turned on by her son. Sure, beer had played its part in relaxing her inhibitions, but she wouldn't pretend it was the cause. Jim was a good looking young man and she'd been thinking recently about a younger man. The "cougar" phenomenon seemed to be taking hold and she had considered giving it a try. Maybe it was more about that than about Jim. Perhaps he had just wandered into her sights as she was considering options. 

Most likely that was all there was to it. She decided to pay closer attention to her reactions to Jim the next time they were together, whenever that turned out to be. He may not show up again for a month, or two. Today it only happened because she called him for a favor. "Time to think about all that tomorrow," she said to herself. "Tonight I have a wet pussy and an eager clit and I'm going to enjoy it."

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Another morning of listening to people's problems. It really wasn't that she was unfeeling or unsympathetic. It was that the problems, and the solutions, were so fucking obvious! Love, or the unthinking pursuit of it was pushing people to do things that simply made no sense. And although it paid well, it got tiresome watching people run laps around the same track, again and again, all the while wondering why they weren't getting anywhere. Sure, she did get that occasional patient who was really there for help and change. Thank God. Those patients were, to a psychiatrist, like the occasional perfect shot is to the average golfer. Without them, he'd probably give up and find another hobby. But hitting one or two per game was just enough to make him come back and try again.

Between patients, her receptionist stepped in to say that her son had called and asked her to give him a call back when she got a minute. She raised an eyebrow. That was new.

"Jim, you called?"

"Yes mom. I was wondering if it would be ok to go over to your place to study today. There's some construction going on across from my apartment and the noise is making it impossible for me to concentrate here. I can do the library if you want..." his voice trailed off. 

"No, of course not. My house will be much more comfortable, and the library doesn't have a fridge you can raid. You still have your key?"

"Yes. Still got it."

"Ok. Enjoy. Oh, and if you're still there when I get home, we'll order up some food."

"Thanks mom."

She hung up the phone with a smile. Her pussy was wet again. "Interesting," she said aloud.

Jim let himself into the house and looked around. It hadn't changed much since dad left. He took a few personal mementos he'd collected over the years, but the bulk of the furnishings and decorations were hers. She had contributed most of the income and she'd made all of the decisions about the house. When he left, there wasn't much that was really his to take.

Fortunately Jim's studying was all caught up. He was ready for exams and would require only a few hours of brush-up on each one before being tested. He headed down the hall to his mother's room to look around a bit. Time to learn a bit about mom.

The lingerie drawer seemed like a good place to start. Her collection surprised him. It was sexier and more extensive than he would have guessed. She was no stranger to g-strings, that's for sure. She had every possible cut and color of them in her top right drawer. Jim let his mind run a little and realized if she wore these, she would also shave. "Nice," he thought. In his mind, he noted that most of them had tags that said "M."

One drawer to the right was a similarly comprehensive collection of bras. He noted their size, 36D. "Wow. Mom's stacked," he thought. As much as he wanted to continue exploring, he had some shopping to do, so he went back out, locking the door behind him. 

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The remainder of Susan's day was grinding ever so slowly. The patients were coming in, relating their latest tales of woe, incompetence, and sheer stupidity, and filing out. At least they all brought their credit cards. She'd run through several scenarios in her mind about how this evening could play out. She had little doubt that Jim would still be there when she arrived. His completely out-of-character phone call earlier and his flimsy excuse about construction noise were enough of a tip-off that he'd felt something odd last night too. But, was he coming back just to see if he had been correct or was he coming back to see how far he could take it? 

She really needed to get this whole crazy idea out of her head. Jim was her son. Frank's son. A sexual relationship, even a one-time experiment, simply could not happen. She didn't go to church anymore, but that had not changed her moral compass much. She understood human frailty and failings in a way that most people do not, but she still knew sin when she saw it. And what about her career? What would committing incest with her son say about her as a psychiatrist? How would she be able to look her peers in the face or hear her patient's stories and maintain some sort of distance and authority. You fuck your own son, even once, and you've lost your standing, your credibility, forever. Even if nobody else ever found out or figured it out, she would know – and she couldn't live with that. She was fifty-eight years old and that was way too late to start over or become someone else.

She missed Frank. There was no sense lying to herself about that. He wasn't a great husband, wasn't a great provider, wasn't great in bed. Good grief, she was starting to sound like her patients! Frank did one thing well though. He obeyed. She liked that in a man. If she looked at her empty coffee cup, he ran to fill it. If she mentioned the dishes on the counter, he got up to wash them. If she pushed his head down between her legs, he licked until she was satisfied. It wasn't a full Femdom or BDSM relationship with whips and bondage, but it could have been. If she had moved in that direction, he would not have fought her. He had been eager to please, and she did miss that. 

In the end, what probably drove him away as much as her success, was her lack of feedback. For a male with submissive desires, it's not enough to serve. The service must be acknowledged as such in order for him to feel fulfilled. He needs it expressed, clearly, that his submission is noticed and accepted, preferably expected. He needs his role and the role of the one he serves to be understood clearly within the relationship. She knew this well enough. Many men, some of her patients in fact, tried to use stealth submission to lure a dominant nature out of their unsuspecting wives. Sometimes it worked beautifully. Most of the time it didn't, leaving the man frustrated and unfulfilled and ultimately resentful. So why had she let him down by not openly taking control and allowing him to revel in his submission? She knew the answer to that too, and it didn't make her like herself any better. The reason was that she had always known that if she'd been looking for a slave husband, she could have had a much better one. It was ugly, cruel, and self-centered, but it was the truth. A weak slave is no great acquisition, nothing to be particularly proud of. A weakling would serve someone or something, no matter what. The slave that would appeal to her would be one who could be a leader himself, but chose to follow her instead. Frank was never that man.

Jim's shopping trip had been much faster and easier than he'd expected. Returning home with his prize, he decided to spend the rest of the afternoon getting to know his mother a little better. He couldn't help feeling that she must have other secrets besides the extensive collection of sexy underwear and he meant to find them out if he could.

He went through the remaining drawers of her dresser and didn't find much. Then he went to the bathroom. He was deliberately saving the matching bedside tables for last because he was sure that's where the best information would be found. In the bathroom, he noticed she had a fondness for the usual bath salts and creams that most women used. The loofa looked new, so that probably meant she'd worn out a previous one. The robe on the back of the door was shimmering black silk, cut short, with only a tie at the waist to keep it closed. He'd never seen her in anything that revealing, but his thickening cock confirmed that he would very much like to. There was a dirty laundry hamper, certainly containing some of the dirty underwear that are the stuff of online porn stories, but he wasn't quite ready to sniff, or lick, or masturbate into, soiled panties.

The bookcase held no big surprises. The psychiatry texts were to be expected. There were a few on deviant sexuality, which might be an exciting topic in some contexts, but not in a clinical "let's find you a cure" context. "So, on to the bedside tables," he said aloud. He knew, from having lived there as a boy, that his mother's side of the bed was on the right and his father's had been on the left. Starting with her side, he opened the drawer on top and found ibuprofen, a sleep mask, a small flashlight, and a few other odds and ends. "Hmm. How disappointing." The cabinet beneath wasn't much better.

On his side it was a different story. Mom was neat, orderly, and private. He should have known that all the good stuff would be in one place. The top drawer held a nice collection of dildos and vibrators. Glass, silicone, jelly, large, medium, small. All were well represented. He smiled at the fact that he didn't see any that looked particularly intimidating. Jim was the proud owner of seven thick inches. He was well aware that there were bigger cocks out there, but he also knew he was larger than average and none of the girls he'd ever been with had been unsatisfied. Even so, he was happy to see that his mother apparently didn't need a forearm-sized dildo to get herself off. 

The cabinet below didn't disappoint either. He knew women were more cerebral than men when it came to sex and he expected she might have a stash of racy literature somewhere. Here it was, and she evidently liked pictures too. The books mostly tended toward cougar stories with a bit of Femdom mixed in. Many of the pictures were of older women having sex with younger men, usually in some sort of dominant role or position. CFNM images were apparently another favorite. Mother, it appeared, had a slight kinky streak. He wondered whether she might have used it on his father or whether it was something that had manifested in the past year or two. In the end, he decided that under the circumstances, the less he thought about his father, the better. 

Her closet held a few other pleasant surprises. She had a little leather. Who'd have guessed? It didn't look as though it was worn often, or ever for that matter. But she had it. His mother in a leather, lace-up bra? Unbelievable. A black corset? Sexy spike heels? He'd never seen any of this, or anything remotely like it, on her. It looked like it was unused. There wasn't much dust in the house, but there was a fine layer on the shoes and the leather clothing looked a bit dull. 

A new urge came over him. None of the girls he dated had ever brought it out and most would be shocked to think such a thing was possible. He wasn't weak or soft after all. But somehow he couldn't resist going into the linen closet for a few polishing rags. He looked at his watch, decided there was plenty of time, and then stripped naked, his cock hard as stone, and began to polish his mother's shoes and leather. He couldn't help smiling quietly as, whenever he saw a drop of clear precum on the end of his cock, he dabbed it away with the cloth and worked it into the surface.



Practical Insanity Ch. 03



Susan Helmand pulled into her own driveway and, just as she expected, saw Jim's car. She smiled, a little. What the hell was going on here exactly? What sort of game were they playing. She knew. What she also knew, after thinking about it on her way home was that Jim had grown into the sort of man his father had not been. Jim was a hard-charging student, about to finish an MBA after completing a difficult double major. He had executive written all over him, inside where it really counted and outside where people thought it counted. He also had the desire to please a woman, inherited from his father, ingrained in him. It wasn't that he'd noticed the way his father served her as much as he just assumed that's how it should be. The way he was last night was an example of it. When she suggested he go handle the food delivery, he hopped up and took care of it without question or hesitation. And when she got back from the bathroom, he'd had the food already laid out by the water's edge. It wasn't a conscious effort for him to serve, it was natural and easy.

She must be losing her mind. "Practical insanity indeed," she thought. She was driving up to the house with thoughts of seducing her own son and using him as a slave. "Gee Susan, what could possibly go wrong with that idea? Surely a reasonable person couldn't find fault with it," she said sarcastically to herself. If she followed through with this idiotic idea, she'd be as bad – no, worse – than many of her patients. That book she was considering about practical insanity, might turn into an autobiography. 

"Ok, enough of this nonsense. I'm going in there to have a nice dinner with my son and that's it. We're going to use last night and tonight to start developing a healthy mother/son relationship like we should have had all along if I hadn't been so damned preoccupied with being successful." 

He had left the front door unlocked for her. She smiled. The neighborhood was safe enough and he was home. It was a nice touch. 

"Hey mom. I finished my studying." That wasn't a lie exactly, since he had finished it – a couple of days ago. He had been careful to leave a few books on the coffee table though, to keep up appearances. "I made us a couple of drinks. I figured since we had beer last night, something mixed might be a nice change this evening." 

"Oh, what did you make for us?"

"Jack and Ginger. I remember you used to like those occasionally."

She raised an eyebrow. He remembered right. And it seemed like he was going to adopt the "Liquor is Quicker" strategy. In spite of her better judgment, she was curious. Would he really try to seduce her? What would it be like? She chased the thoughts from her mind and decided that a good stiff drink was just the thing she needed to unwind from the long slow day she'd just endured.

"Thank you, honey. That was very thoughtful. Bring it to me out by the pool." Damn. Had she just done that? Yes, she'd just given him an order, not a request. Had she done it intentionally or was her subconscious pushing her into this? 

They sat out on the patio and made small talk about the day and how it had gone. For Jim this was key to his plan. The plan was a simple one. He was going to get a couple of drinks in her and then see if he could get her to wear the new swimsuit he'd gotten for her earlier today. After that, the plan was a little vague, consisting mostly of "play it by ear." So far, so good. She was enjoying the drinks and the conversation and didn't seem to suspect a thing. 

"What would you like to eat this evening, Jim?"

"I'm not really starving or anything. I was thinking maybe just snacks. I saw a couple of avocados in the fridge, so I made some guacamole. I was thinking drinks, chips, drinks, dessert, something like that. Do you need a more substantial dinner?"

"Sounds perfect sweetheart." She was starting to feel the drinks and he'd just mixed up the third round. Better slow this down a notch or two. 

But Jim had other ideas. "Mom, how about a dip in the pool? The water was so nice last night. Would you like to?

The water had been divine last night. "Yes. That would be a nice way to spend the evening. How much time do you have?" She wasn't surprised in the least when he said he had nowhere to be and could stay as long as she wanted. She was surprised when he said, "Mom, I did a little shopping for you today. You seemed to think I was less than thrilled about your bathing suit last night, so I went out and got one I think will look much better on you."

"How thoughtful," she said, but did not mean. She did her best to keep suspicion off her face and to seem genuinely pleased. She wasn't ready to let him know she was aware of the game, still wanting to see how far he would push. She wasn't good at lying and her ruse might have failed under normal conditions. But Jim wasn't immune to the effects of alcohol either and he missed the edge in her voice. "Nothing normal about these conditions," she said to herself as she walked down the hall to her bedroom. The package was on the bed, just as he said it would be. She decided to strip out of her work clothes before looking at it. 

"Holy shit! Would you look at this thing? He wants to see his mother in this?" It was a two-piece, technically a bikini, but this thing had so little fabric it surely must have its own specific term. "Mini-kini maybe?" The top was nothing but a couple of small triangles held together with string. They would cover her nipples and not much else. The bottom was just one triangle with a string in back. What the hell was he thinking? This must be a joke, a dare. What a little asshole! 

And then the reflection in the mirror caught her eye. She wasn't perfect, hell she was fifty eight. But she wasn't bad either. She had an all-over tan from sunning nude on the weekends. That helped a lot. Imperfections look a lot better in golden tan than in pasty white. The legs looked fine. Ass was a little bigger than she'd like. There was a dimple here and there, but they were few and far between compared to most women. Waist was small and tight. Tits, well they were lower than she wanted, but they were big, full and had a certain ripeness to them. Fine. If that little asshole wanted to test her, she'd pass the test and not even flinch. She'd return serve and see what he did once the ball was back in his court.

"Honey, I love it. That was very sweet of you. Go get the snacks and bring them over to the water's edge. I'm getting in the pool." She walked past him, head up, tits out, ass swaying, as though all this was the most natural thing in the world. She knew his cock would swell and the knowledge felt good, damn good.

He choked on his drink and sputtered, "Yes Ma'am. Be right there." That was the last reaction he expected from her. He'd guessed his odds were no better than 50/50 for getting her into that suit at all. He thought a couple of drinks would be the bare minimum opener and after that some cajoling and encouragement would be necessary, maybe even an hour or two worth of it. Even then he'd placed his chances at no better than fifty percent. Not only did she put it on, she looked fantastic in it and she walked like she knew it. He went to the kitchen, his cock already making a tent in his shorts, and gathered the snacks and two fresh drinks on a tray. 

Waiting until he saw her push off the pool wall, gliding silently underwater, he made his dash to the edge of the pool, set the tray down, and jumped in before she could see his erection. The cool water would help – he hoped.

She'd ended her glide on the far side of the pool and climbed the ladder to get out. "Jim, this bikini is really small. Are you sure it looks good on me?" she asked as she walked around the pool the short way toward his side. "Yes Ma'am. You look great in it." He wasn't lying. It was all he could do to try to keep a calm tone in his voice. 

"Are you sure?" she asked, standing directly over him. She knew the small triangle of white cloth had shifted and that one side of her shaved pussy was exposed, but she pretended to be unaware and made no move to correct it. "Y-yes Ma'am," he stuttered. His mind was racing, but most of all he was wondering where the hell all these "Ma'ams" were coming from. He'd never called her that in his life. She was his mom, not a "Ma'am." What the hell was going on here?

Now she really felt mischievous. She asked him whether the bottom looked good or whether it made her ass look too big and dimply. As she asked, she turned around, bent from the waist, picked up a chip and dipped it in guacamole. 

He was looking directly at her asshole with nothing but a thin string running across it. He was mesmerized. She turned, still bent over, and held the chip out toward his lips, giving him another view, deep into her cleavage. His view didn't stop there. The carefully chosen white bikini had, as he'd hoped, gone mostly transparent once it got wet. Her large nipples and areola were plain to see under the thin material. "You didn't answer, Jim. Does this make my ass look too big?"

"No Ma'am. It's great!" he said with a little too much enthusiasm. She smiled. "You're not just saying that?" 

"No Ma'am. It's perfect on you. I love it." 

"I believe you," she said... and she did.

His mind was reeling now. This "plan" had gone so much better than expected that he had didn't know what to do next. He still kept calling her "Ma'am." No idea what that was all about, but she didn't seem to mind it. Obviously it was natural since it was happening on its own without him planning or thinking about it. Whatever. Why fight it? What he did need to fight was the raging erection in his shorts. The cold water wasn't helping at all. He faced toward the wall of the pool and that didn't help either. Every time the end of his dick brushed the smooth concrete it felt like a caress and made him twitch and stay hard a little longer. 

While he was thinking of all this, she'd entered the pool again and come over next to him. The tray was just out of easy reach, so she lifted herself out a little, extended an arm, and dragged it closer with a fingertip. Slipping her hand back into the water, she made sure to brush the front of his shorts. 

"Jim. What is that? You have a fucking erection over your own mother?" She was enjoying the game so far and had decided to up the ante. Inside she was smiling, but her face showed cool anger and her tone cut like a knife.

"Yes Ma'am. I'm sorry. I don't know what's come over me. I haven't had sex in a while. I've had a few drinks. That must be it."

"You were sober enough when you bought this bikini for me. Were you fantasizing about me when you chose it? Does your mother make your dick stiff? How long has this been going on?"

Shit! Things were suddenly off track – way off track. Had he interpreted everything up to this minute completely wrong? She was pissed and he didn't see any way to fix it.

"Stay right here and think about what a filthy little pervert you are. I'm going inside to get out of this suit. Don't you dare move." She turned and walked toward the house. He was so ashamed that he didn't want to look, but he did anyway. "And keep your hands off your cock while I'm gone. I don't want you jacking your dick in my pool."

She looked out the window of her bedroom and saw him still in the pool. He hadn't moved at all and his head was hanging low in embarrassment. She smiled to herself. She'd already made her decision before letting him see her in the bikini. She would make him her lover on her terms. She let him think he had pulled something, and in a way he had. But his victory stopped the moment she decided to wear it. From that point on, she had been firmly in the driver's seat and she had every intention of staying there. 

She slipped out of the wet suit and into the shower, careful to leave the suit where it lay on the floor. After drying off, she looked in her closet for a wrap and noticed the shine on the leather and shoes she never wore. "That little bastard," she hissed. "He's been in here exploring. He thinks he's in trouble now? He doesn't have the first fucking clue."

Changing her mind about the wrap, she decided on the short robe that was hanging in the bathroom. Why not? He had probably seen it already while he was snooping this afternoon. The black silk hugged her curves and felt good on her nipples. She teased her clit lightly with a long manicured fingernail and smiled at the happy coincidence that she'd just had them changed from pink to red.

Stepping out to the edge of the patio she called, "Get in here boy," then turned and went inside.



Practical Insanity Ch. 04-06



Part 4

The click of her low-heeled mules across the tile floor gave her reassurance, confidence, in what she was about to do. She sat on the plush white sofa and waited for him to appear. When his sheepish face showed itself, she said calmly and firmly, "Go shower now. Come back in your shorts. We'll discuss this."

Jim moved quickly down the hall, happy to be out of her sight and happy that some sort of normal seemed to have returned to her voice. It wasn't over, but it was a lot better than the harshness she had shown him at the pool. Why did he even care? It wasn't as though they had always been close. Yet he felt a powerful urge to please her that had never surfaced like this before. Was it that leather stuff in her closet that brought it out? Was it the older woman/younger man pics in her porn stash? The CNFM? Whatever it was, it was undeniable – and weird. He'd never heard other guys mention anything like this. 

The shower felt good. It almost washed away the doubts and concerns. Almost. The effects of the alcohol were fading a little and he started to feel a little more in control of himself and the situation. What's the worst she could do? She'd tell him she was ashamed of him for buying that suit. She might give him some sort of boring lecture about the psychological implications of being attracted to his mother. For sure she'd never wear that suit again and from now on she'd be careful not to give him too many cleavage peeks. 

Even so, tonight had been hot. He'd seen her pussy, half of it anyway. He'd stared at her asshole. He felt his cock begin to respond and decided that later tonight, in his bed, would be the best time to play the mental highlight reel. For now he needed to avoid thinking about all that and deal with the task at hand – accepting mother's annoyance and correction and getting past all this.

"Come back in your shorts," she had said. What did that mean? He wasn't supposed to put on a shirt? Why would she be so specific? "Whatever," he muttered. It wasn't a good time to disobey simple clear instructions. If she asked why he wasn't more dressed, he'd just tell her he was trying to do exactly as instructed.

She smiled slightly as she saw him reenter the room in nothing but shorts. She knew that a person's impulse would be to put on more clothing – protection – to feel less vulnerable in this sort of an embarrassing situation. He had followed instructions instead and she was pleased. She let him stand in front of her in silence until he could no longer hold her gaze and his eyes fell to the floor. Only then, after thoroughly establishing who had the upper hand, did she speak.

"Go pour two more drinks and bring them here," she said in a low commanding tone. She knew that with each time she gave a simple command and received his obedience, he was being conditioned to accept her authority. She'd told him to stay in the pool, come inside, shower, wear shorts, get drinks, and each time had gotten the proper response. What she understood that he did not was that each command is a building block that helps to create a new paradigm. She was laying a foundation that would lead to his acceptance of more difficult tasks and greater authority. 

"Put them here for now," as she pointed to the end table. "Good. You may sit – on the floor," she said, motioning to a spot just in front of her. This was going to be fun! His willingness was making her pussy wet. Strong but compliant. She loved it!

"So. As I understand it, after we got a little tipsy last night and I told you how nice you looked, you decided I must be flirting with you. You spent the evening thinking about it and hatched a plan to come over here tonight. You came up with a cover story about construction noise and spent the afternoon snooping around my room, polishing my shoes and leather, and checking the sizes of my lingerie so you could get me a skimpy bathing suit. Then, when I got home you mixed some drinks and kept them coming in the hope of getting me drunk enough that I'd let you fuck me. Does that pretty much cover it?"

He could feel the heat and pressure in his face and knew he must be as red as the polish on her perfect nails. Every word of what she said was correct and hearing it like that, laid out plain and in the open, resonating in his ears, it sounded awful, almost like a crime.

What could he say to the charges? Only one thing. "Yes Ma'am. I'm sorry," he said in a low voice. 

"You're sorry. Now. You wouldn't have been sorry if you had ended up fucking me, would you?"

He really hoped that was a rhetorical question because there didn't seem to be any good answer. 

"Well, would you have been sorry if you'd been able to put your cock in your mother? Answer?"

"No Ma'am. I'm sure I'd have been happy about it, at least initially. Maybe later I would have felt guilty."

"Guilty of what?"

"Guilty of tricking you. Guilty of snooping. Guilty of incest, I guess," he offered.

"That's a little too much guilt. First, you didn't trick anyone. As soon as I got your phone call today I knew something was going on. You don't call me very often, Jim. I put that together with the atmosphere here last night and I had a pretty good idea what you were up to."

"I was surprised when I saw the polished leather, but that is a service and nothing to feel terribly guilty about. Checking my sizes so you can purchase a gift for me also falls in the realm of acceptable snooping. Digging through my bedside tables to look at my sex toys and porn does not."

She was guessing on the last point, but saw clearly from his face that she was on the money. That meant he was aware of the older/younger porn and the CFNM as well. Good.

She continued, "Obviously you want to fuck your mother. I could give you a lecture about what that means in psychological terms. I could scold and curse and ban you from my home for a while. Or I could accept your attentions as a flattering form of affection and allow you to express them freely."

His head popped up at the last. Was she going to...

"Of course that does not mean you will actually be allowed to fuck me. It only means you won't have to hide the attraction and I won't have to deny myself the pleasure of enjoying it. What is your opinion?"

"If I get to choose, I prefer the last option mom," he said, trying to sound thoughtful and serious and trying desperately not to smile. He was about to make it through this nightmare!

"Good. I prefer that as well, provided that we lay down some rules that will not be broken."

He nodded his agreement. He knew she could say anything she wanted and he would go along with it without a moment's hesitation. 

She began, "First, I will be giving the orders. You will be obeying. Period. I will hear your concerns, your opinions, and your wishes as long as they are offered in a respectful manner, but the decisions are mine. You will defer to my authority in all things that interest me. In other areas of your life where I am not interested, such as what kind of car you drive or what you have for breakfast, do as you please, but where I decide to become involved or interested, you will obey. Do you agree to this? If not, we can go no further."

"I agree." He felt like he was joining the Army or something. Why would she want all that power? Still, she was his mother and had never done or suggested anything to his detriment. He knew he could trust her motives and judgment. And maybe relying on her for direction would relieve pressure in some areas so he could focus better in others. It might not be so bad really. For the first time since coming inside, he allowed himself to really look at her. She was wearing the black silk robe and although he technically couldn't see anything he shouldn't, he could see a lot and he liked the view. 

She felt his appraisal and smiled. "Take off the shorts, Jim. From now on, when you're here, you'll be naked unless there's a good reason not to be." 

"Good. Much better," she said as she admired his hard cock. He was about the same length as his father but thicker. Lovely, she thought.

Oddly enough, Jim didn't feel embarrassed like this. He'd seen the pictures in her room and knew she liked this sort of thing, and he'd seen her toy collection and knew he measured up. It might be odd to be a grown man, naked in front of his mother, but it didn't feel uncomfortable. He sensed that she was becoming something more than mother, but he wasn't quite sure what it was yet. 

The uncertainty didn't last long. "From this point, you will address me primarily as 'Ma'am.' It shows a level of respect that 'mom' doesn't convey. That isn't to say there won't be tender moments when mom is appropriate. I will trust you to figure out when those happen and if you are wrong, I will correct you." 

"Speaking of correction, there will be rewards for pleasing me and punishments for failing to do so. I have not spanked you for many years, but that will change. Don't think for a moment that punishment is going to be fun or sexy. It isn't. The purpose will be to modify your unacceptable behavior into something I desire and approve. That means punishment will be painful, memorable, and an experience you will do your best to avoid. Understood?"

"Yes Ma'am," Jim said without enthusiasm. Clearly this wasn't a "mom" moment, he thought to himself.

"Now, about the things you saw in my closet. Those have never been used. They were gifts from your father, who at one time greatly desired a marriage where I was his dominant and he was my slave. Those represent his efforts to entice me. Obviously, his efforts failed since I never wore them. The reason I refused his advances is because I viewed him as weak. I do not see that same weakness in you, therefore having you serve me is far more appealing. In addition, had I played along with him, it would have been more about fulfilling his fantasies than true female dominance. That doesn't interest me."

She continued, "I do understand that the slave – and yes, I'm going to refer to you and think of you as a slave if we go forward in this – the slave has needs, and needs must be met in order for the relationship to work. That said, it's still not about you and your fantasies. It's about me and what I want. I will get fulfillment from receiving what I want and you will get fulfillment from serving and pleasing. My end of the bargain, what I provide for you, is experiences you cannot get elsewhere. Your cock will be hard and eager, and you will have all the sexual stimulation you can handle. Do you understand this?"

"Yes Ma'am. I have read a little bit about Femdom."

"Good. Tell me now, is this what you want? 

"Yes Ma'am," he heard himself say, enthusiasm returning to his voice.

"We will put something in writing soon. For now, we have a verbal contract. I accept your offer to serve me."

She motioned him forward and when he was close enough, she spread her legs and slouched down on the sofa. "I know you were looking at my asshole tonight. As my new slave, your first act will be to lick it. Before going down on my pussy, you will demonstrate to me that you know your proper place, and mine, by servicing my ass. This rule is permanent and starts now. Begin."

It surprised him how willing he was, how enthusiastically he licked and sucked at her hole. He felt her relax as he probed as deep as he could. The oddest thought that ran through his mind may have been that she was worthy of such treatment. She was an extraordinary woman, so much more than the girls he had dated so far. It felt right to be on his knees before her, taking her commands, servicing her. A shiver ran through him. 

"Well done, pet. Enough. Lick my pussy." She was really close to orgasm. She knew she could get there from anal stimulation alone, but she didn't want to inflate his ego just yet. As she felt his tongue lapping her cunt, she sunk back into the sofa, completely relaxed, certain she had made the right choice. He was good at this in a way his father had never been. How much time passed, she couldn't say for sure, but before she knew it she was on her third orgasm. The time had come to close the deal permanently. 

"Very nice, slave. You may stop. Put your cock in me now, but do not cum. You will not be cumming tonight. If you feel yourself losing control, stop and compose yourself. I do not wish to punish you tonight, but if you cum, I won't have a choice."

She had read a considerable amount of professional literature on female dominated relationships when Frank's interest became apparent understood the psychology and physiology involved. It was common practice for a female dominant to control and restrict her slave's orgasm. This kept the male on edge, obedient, and eager to please. Males tend to get lazy and self-centered when they are free to cum as much as they want. In essence the Femdom harnesses and manages the male sex drive to make it work for her. Damn good system, she thought.

He moved forward on his knees and began to fuck her, cautiously at first and then with growing intensity. His cock was every bit as good as she'd hoped. It fit her perfectly and she could feel herself building toward an easy orgasm. Her moans let him know that he was doing a good job and oddly enough, he felt very much in control of himself. Somehow, knowing he was not allowed to cum tonight had freed him to serve her needs and focus his mind on her responses and how best to please her. He'd never fucked anyone this way before, with his mind devoted solely to their enjoyment. Even though he knew he would be denied his own orgasm, this was thrilling in a different, deeper way. 

When she was finally sated, she smiled at him, stroked his hair and face, told him how pleased she was with his performance, and without apology or explanation about his lack of cumming tonight, she got up and told him to follow.

"You'll sleep in my bed tonight," she said as she laid her robe across the chair and kicked off the mules. And with that, she flipped off the light, guided his face to her breast and fell asleep as he sucked gently at her nipple. 

Part 5

In the morning things felt a little different, a little stranger. There was no lingering effect of alcohol to lower inhibitions and the full weight of daylight and societal norms came bearing down on them. She had been awake a minute or two longer than he had, knew what was coming, and was ready. 

"Mom, what now?" he said, sounding a little lost.

"Son, you may put your face between my legs and lick me good morning," she replied. "And don't forget what comes first." Her voice was gentle and her tone to him, tender. It was so unlike last night when he had been in trouble, but at the same time he heard a certain authority in it. It wasn't a "do as I say or I'll punish you" type of authority, more of a "everything is fine, you can trust me" authority. 

He smiled as he slid his tongue into her asshole and then licked her lovingly, even reverently, until she tapped him to let him know he could move to her pussy. 

After a few minutes she spoke, "That's enough pet. I'm not intending to cum this morning. I just wanted you to greet me properly before we begin the day. You may consider this a new rule. Whenever you share my bed, you will greet me this way in the morning, ass first, then pussy. If I am sleeping later than I should, you may wake me in this fashion. You will also, from now on, be allowed to choose when to switch from one to the other if I don't make a point of telling you. Understood?"

"Yes Ma'am," he said, sensing correctly that the mood had moved from mom to Ma'am. 

"Now, go in my bathroom. You will find the bikini you got for me on the floor where I took it off last night. Take it to the hall bathroom, rinse it out by hand, squeeze what water you can out of it, then put it on the back of one of the patio chairs so the sun can dry it. After that, make us some breakfast while I shower and dress. I'll see you shortly."

"Oh," she added, "in case you're wondering, you will remain nude until I tell you different. Go."

He turned to get busy with his chores, his cock erect and aching. He thought it was a good thing today was Saturday. With all day to work with, maybe she would let him cum. At that his cock twitched, emphasizing its hardness as if it needed more emphasis, and he went about his business.

Well, she thought, that had gone about as well as it possibly could have. Susan had been worried about the morning after effect and whether it would seem like the beginning of something great or an abomination that they both spent the rest of their lives trying to forget. They weren't out of the woods yet, but it was looking promising. She felt it herself. What the hell was she doing? She fucked her own son last night and she got him to agree to be her sex slave. Not going to be talking about that with her peer group anytime soon! Was she losing her mind? If so, it didn't feel like it. 

True, she had strayed far outside of what our society – or any society – considers normal and healthy. She wouldn't deny that for a second. But she wasn't going to advocate that others do the same, so who was really harmed? Was she harmed by enjoying the body of a fit, sexy younger man who happened to be her son? Other than the fact that it would take her out of the dating pool and pretty much eliminate her chances of remarrying, she didn't see how. And those losses seemed like a very small price to pay for the pleasure she had tasted last night.

Was he being harmed? He had certainly showed an affinity for submission, so chances were good that he would have found it on his own, with someone, sooner or later. Who better than her? She knew him and loved him and genuinely cared for his well-being. It would be a rare woman who could equal her in any of that, and if she could it would take her years to catch up. Did it hurt him for her to take control of his life? She was sure quite the opposite. 

In her mind, a female dominated relationship, while clearly outside the norm, made a lot more sense than the traditional relationship did. If she had been able to respect Frank enough to want him as her slave, they would still be together, happily. Outside of the small handful of people whose minds are truly a mess, it's pretty clear that men are simpler than women. Their desires, needs, and fears are, for the most part, straightforward and easily understood compared to those of a woman. What sense did it really make to put the simpler partner in charge of the complex partner? Clearly logic would dictate the opposite. So if there really was a problem, female dominance wasn't it.

The incest was another story. As far away as Femdom was from society's idea of a normal healthy relationship platform, incest was much further. It wasn't even in the same ballpark. Hell, it wasn't even the same sport! Her religious upbringing told her it was a sin. No two ways about it; no way to finesse it. What she did last night with her son was a sin. But her practical – uh oh, there's that word again – experience told her that everyone sins and if she could limit her wickedness to just one thing, she'd be no worse than most people. Besides, it wasn't as though it was child abuse. He was a grown man and he was doing exactly as he wanted, no coercion or trickery needed. 

Her professional training told her it was a problem, but how many people did she meet, on both sides of the notepad, who had their own "problems" and still managed to live life pretty well? Plenty. 

She knew this morning that he would have second thoughts and she'd decided immediately that she would not allow his concerns to drive how this day played out. Susan had taken the initiative, as a dominant should, and set the tone for the day by putting him between her legs. She showed him by taking command that he had nothing to worry about and she reminded him of the pleasures awaiting him in this relationship by letting him taste her cunt. It had been the perfect decision, and it had allowed her to buy enough time to analyze the situation on her own and come to terms with it. 




Practical Insanity Ch. 04-06



She was going to have an incestuous relationship with her son. He was going to be her sex slave. She had taken control of him and she had every intention of keeping it – for her own pleasure and for his own good. She would still have to discuss it further with him, but it would be more of an indoctrination than a discussion. She was glad it was Saturday. They would have the whole weekend for this new reality to gel before their normal lives exposed them to others and caused them to think about just how "different" this lifestyle really was. 

After her shower and moisturizer routine, she paid particular attention to her hair. The short blonde bob was attractive in a power sense, perfect for this new undertaking. She combed it painstakingly and applied just the right touch of spray. Lipstick was enough makeup for daytime. Her skin was tanned and there was no need to cake anything on top of that. 

She put on a white lacy bra and thong, sheer to the point of being pointless, and then wrapped the whole ensemble in a long colorful silk robe, tied loosely around her waist. She didn't usually dress this provocatively for spending time around the house on the weekend, but she was no longer a "usual" woman.

For Femdom to work, the male must feel the desire to worship and adore the female. She had learned, listening to patients, that the problem with this is that many women don't understand that having a vagina isn't enough. If you want to be worshipped, you must make yourself worthy. That takes work. It's seldom the most comfortable option. It's a price to pay that each woman has to decide is worth the effort. If it isn't, it's time to pack it in and do something else.

She slipped her feet into a pair of silvery-white low-heeled mules and clicked her way to the kitchen, feeling good about the things she had done and decided.

Jim got an eyeful immediately and without the slightest prompting or planning, dropped to his knees, placed his hands together on the floor in front of him, and put his forehead on the diamond created by his thumbs and forefingers. She took a deep breath and accepted his worship and devotion in silence, letting it wash over her in waves of satisfaction. It was even better than she thought it could be, and he gave it without hesitation, freely, because he felt it inside himself. Perfect.

She bent to tap his shoulder, three times, the gesture that would become the signal that his devotion had been received and accepted and that it was time to rise to his feet. 

Over breakfast, she noticed him doing his best not to stare, but having a lot of trouble with it. She laughed and said, "Jim, are we doing this?"

He looked puzzled.

"Are you my slave now? Am I your dominant? The relationship we agreed to last night when we were drunk and excited, is it still real and still in effect? 

He had been nodding the whole time, but waited for her to finish before replying with feeling, "Yes Ma'am!"

"In that case, slave, you may look at me all you want to unless I tell you otherwise. I wore this to be seen, not to be ignored. I want your eyes on my tits. I want you fantasizing about my cunt. I demand that you dream of licking my asshole. I demand all of it. If you're going to be my slave, I am going to be worshipped, and worship begins with desire, so never again be ashamed of looking at my body and wanting it. You owe me that and I will have it."

"Thank you, Ma'am. I understand."

His dick was hard as stone and really it had been since last night. The ache was a pleasant constant reminder of the situation.

"Good. That said, there are some things we need to discuss." She went on without waiting for him to reply, "You might have some doubts about all this at some point. If you do, I want you to bring them to me. I have given it some thought this morning and decided that what we are doing is right for us. There will be a few social conventions that we'll have to work around, but I will manage that. You need not think about it. When the time comes, I will tell you what to do and you will do it and that will be that. Agreed?"

"Yes Ma'am," he said, sounding to her ear a little relieved.

"Thinking ahead, I realize I am thirty years older than you are. At some point you will want to marry, have children, and live a more normal life. That is fine. You will bring the girls you like to the house and I will decide which ones are suitable candidates and which are not. Ultimately, I will choose your wife, not you. Agreed?"

"Yes Ma'am."

"This means that at some point you will want to resume dating. I'm sure that may not be right away because this is all new and exciting and will take up most of your time and energy. But in time, you will want to date. For that reason, you will keep your apartment. Make no mistake, you will live here 99% of the time, but the apartment will allow you to date without the stigma of being the 'guy who still lives with his mom.'"

He nodded. She really had done some thinking on this.

Susan Helmand was noticing some changes in herself since last night. She had never been afraid of taking charge and she'd always trusted her own judgment more than that of others, but this was taking it to an entirely new level. She was making demands, laying down the law, and she had, just a moment ago, demanded worship from a male. It felt good and it felt right, but most of all it felt as though her dominant nature was swelling inside her, taking up all the space that might have held doubts and fears and leaving no room for them. She knew she was worthy and if she had any regret at all it was that she hadn't done this sooner. 

Jim could see it as though it were a tangible thing. Confidence radiated from her, not the false bravado kind of confidence based mostly on wishful thinking, but a real, deep, earned kind of confidence that he felt he could rely on. It was more intoxicating than the liquor had been last night and he wanted nothing more than to bask in the glory of it, of her awakening. He felt as though he was watching her become what she had been born to be and he knew he had made it possible. He couldn't have been prouder to be her slave.

Part 6

Getting up from breakfast, Susan Helmand said, "Son, you do understand that being my slave will involve more than just fun sexy things?"

"What do you mean mom?"

"Nothing terrible, but there will be errands to run, shopping to do, and other day-to-day services I need handled. You will do these things for me and I will spend more time taking care of myself for you. You get more time behind a cart at the grocery store – and I get more time in at the gym or tanning by the pool. Nice eh?"

"Very funny, mom. Of course I will do your errands and shopping and whatever else you need, but considering what you'll be doing, it sure sounds good to have a slave."

"There are some rewards. Making all the decisions and taking the lead does require some effort and energy, but overall, I am firmly convinced that having a slave should make my life easier and better and I'm going to see that it does. Got it?"

"Got it," he said with a smile.

"Good. There are some letters on the table by the door that need to be mailed. There's also a shopping list for the grocery store and a pick-up ticket for the dry cleaner. While you're out, go by your apartment and get the things you'll need to stay here. Get enough clothing to last you at least a week and whatever else you need. You won't be going to your apartment very often."

"Yes Ma'am. I'll take care of it. And I'll have my phone so if you think of anything else, you can give me a call."

"Good idea, except for one thing. You call me when you're finished with the tasks and ask me if there is anything else I need before you come home."

"Yes Ma'am. I can do that. Ma'am, is this how it's going to be from now on? You giving orders, me doing tasks, everything revolving around you and what you need or want?"

"Yes. That's how it is now. It's what you signed up for. If you're having second thoughts, forget about them. I have none and that's all that matters – to me, and to you."

"It's an odd feeling Ma'am. In a way it feels demeaning, but in a way it feels so comforting and safe. And no matter which way it feels at any given moment, it makes my dick hard and hungry," he said with a hopeful look on his face.

"Don't hint to me, Jim. That's the surest way to earn a long wait before you cum again. I know what you need and believe me, I know what you want. Your wishes and wants and needs will be addressed when and how I decide. Trying to push me in one direction or another will only cause you to end up somewhere you didn't want to go. And speaking of go – Go!"

He dressed quickly and went off on his errands, leaving his mother to do some thinking and some reading. Due to her profession, her patients, and her ex-husband, she was well-read on the topic of dominance and submission, specifically the nature of Femdom relationships, but it had been a while and she could use a refresher. She would use the time Jim was gone to brush up on some of the tactics and techniques that would help make the transition and the end state a success.

Since the weather was nice out, she decided to slip into the bikini Jim had left on the patio chair and move outside with the laptop. Going back to her room with the white triangles in hand, she had another idea. She tossed it on the bed, then gathered every one of her old bathing suits and put them in the trashcan. She wouldn't be needing those again. From now on it would either be a suit like the one Jim had gotten her, or she'd swim nude. She made a mental note to go through her entire wardrobe to eliminate everything that wasn't, on some level, sexy. Obviously she still had to work and function in the normal world, but there were clothes that were sexy and still met the requirements for regular life. She understood, even if Jim didn't, that this was her end of the bargain, this was what a slave needed from his Mistress. 

There. She'd said it, at least in her mind. She was going to be Mistress of the house, a Domina. That took a little getting used to. She wondered how "Yes Mistress" would sound coming from Jim's lips and after thinking about it, she decided it would sound just fine. 

Settling in on the patio, she got comfortable with the laptop and a final cup of coffee and began to put her plan together.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

A couple of hours later, the phone rang. "Ma'am, I'm finished with the things you gave me to do. Is there anything else you need before I come back?"

"No slave. Well done. You may return home." She hung up without waiting for a reply.

When he arrived a few minutes later, she smiled at his obvious appreciation of her body in the suit he'd gotten for her and allowed him to put everything away before joining her on the patio.

"I've been doing some thinking while you were gone. There are some things that many dominant women do that they believe keep their slaves happy and in the right frame of mind. Some I like, some I don't."

"For example, I do not believe it makes sense to put you in a chastity device that prevents you from getting an erection. The last thing I want to do is train you not to get hard, so we won't be using anything like that and you will never be penalized in any way for having an erection. Hard-ons are encouraged any time and all the time."

Jim nodded and smiled, "Thank goodness! Thank you, Ma'am!"

"You may not be so enthusiastic about some of the other things, but I'm happy that you like that one. Today, I am going to punish you. You have not done anything wrong, but I am going to punish you anyway. It is important for you to understand that I will hurt you if I think you need it. I told you yesterday that when you earn real punishment it's not going to be fun or sexy; it's going to hurt and make you hope it never happens again. But until I prove it to you physically, it's just words. So we're going to prove it. When I am finished today you will fear me, and with good reason. That will help you focus on pleasing me and it will also make you feel my love and affection in a deeper way. That may not make a lot of sense to you now, but as with many things going forward, you will simply have to trust my judgment."

"Yes Ma'am," he said with a bit of hesitation. He noticed she didn't ask if he agreed or was ok with what she was saying. She just said it as if there was no other possibility. Maybe there wasn't.

"You will also surrender complete control of your orgasm to me. You will never cum again without my permission. That means in me, on me, jacking off by yourself, when you're dating again, however it comes about you will never cum again without me telling you that you can. This does not mean you won't get to cum much – I believe using the body is important for maintaining its health and function – but what it does mean is that you will never again just decide on your own to have an orgasm. That belongs to me now."

"Yes Ma'am. I understand," he answered.

"I'm not going to feminize you or turn you into a "sissy" who wears female underwear and high heels. I'm not going to "cuckold" you and I'm not going to force you to perform any sex act with another male. Those things do not appeal to me. If they appeal to you, you need to tell me, honestly, right now and I will think about how to get those needs met without being directly involved myself."

"No Ma'am. I'm not bi or gay and I would much rather see you in your underwear than me."

"Good. Just so long as you understand that if I ever changed my mind, you would do any and all of those things simply because I told you to."

"I understand that, Ma'am. Being a slave isn't about doing only things that you want to do. Sometimes you have to go outside your comfort zone and outside your ideal scenario if you are going to serve someone else. I get that and I am ok with it."

"Then this is a good time to mention the last one. I am going to use a strap-on on you," she said before pausing to let him process the idea.

His face fell somewhat and he looked at her for more explanation. 

"Don't worry. It won't mean you're gay or that I'm training you to be. It will be a tool of dominance to reinforce who you are and who I am. I have one in my closet buried in a box, another of your father's unused gifts that is finally going to come into play. What this is about is dominance and trust. You will learn vulnerability and submission to me by taking my strap-on down your throat and up your ass. It isn't small – a Mistress should always have a bigger dick than her slave does – but you will learn, first to handle it and later to crave it. And you will learn to trust me not to hurt you, at least not inadvertently. I've always enjoyed anal sex Jim. That means I know what it feels like, done right and done wrong. It gives me a great advantage in understanding how to apply the strap-on," she finished.

"Ma'am, you just used the word 'Mistress.' What is that about?" he asked. He didn't even bother to argue about the strap-on. He knew her decision wasn't going to change and it made no sense to piss her off over something that was going to happen no matter what he did or said.

"Mistress is interchangeable with Ma'am for our purposes. I am your Mistress now Jim, have been since last night. It doesn't mean I'm some side-fuck the way ordinary people usually interpret it. It means I am your Goddess. It means you worship, obey, respect, and love me. And allowing you to call me by that title means I accept those gifts and return my guidance and love to you.

"Oh, and one more thing, slave. There are some out there who believe that a Mistress should never suck a cock or take one up her ass because those are "submissive acts." I don't play by those rules. I'm the boss and whatever I enjoy is what we do. If I want to suck your cock, I will. If I want you to fuck my ass, you will. The key is, it happens... and stops happening... on my command. You aren't ever in charge of one damn thing, even when you're balls-deep in my ass. Understand?"

"Yes Mistress," he replied, trying out the new terminology. It felt good, felt natural, like this whole experience had so far. He wasn't sure about the strap-on or the punishment, but he smiled at the thought that he didn't have to be – because she was. She would decide and he would obey, a simple formula. 

"Pet, there is one more thing. I will expect honesty from you at all times. If you want to be my slave, you must never lie to me either with a complete lie or a half-truth meant to deceive. I demand that from you above all else, and in return I will give the same back to you," she promised.

"Agreed, Mistress," he answered.

"That's good. I expected that would be an easy one for you. You're a good man Jim. You are strong, physically and mentally, a natural leader when in a group, and one day you will be in charge of a lot of people who will rely on you to make the right decisions and steer the course of a company. It's very gratifying that a man like you would choose willingly to serve and obey me. I believe you will find that serving me as your Mistress will not interfere with any of the traits I just mentioned but will in fact enhance them by giving you an outlet, an escape, to a part of your life where you don't have to make the decisions at all. This will become an oasis where you recharge your mind and body, by dismissing your cares and burdens in favor of serving my needs and desires."

He had to admit, it sounded like heaven. It would have sounded crazy just a few days ago but today, right now, it sounded just right, so he said it in a whisper, just loud enough for her to hear, "I'm in love with you, Mistress."

"I know pet, and I with you," came her reply.



Practical Insanity Ch. 07-09



Susan decided that was enough for Jim to digest in one sitting. It was a lot and she knew he'd need time to process it, make it his own, turn it into his new reality. She was confident he would get there because she could see the desire and need in his eyes. Susan Helmand was also glad, now more than ever, that she had chosen to pursue this. Nothing could be clearer to her than the fact that Jim was made for this lifestyle and if she had not gotten him first, someone else would have seen it in him and he'd be serving another pussy instead of her own. 

All the doubts and worries about what rules were being broken were gone in her mind and in his, for now at least. They had tonight and all of Sunday before they had to come back into contact with their real lives. Monday morning, work, class, friends, and acquaintances seemed far away right now. It was just here, just these hours, just this new relationship that preoccupied every thought in their minds. Both took this as one more sign that what they were doing was right – if not for everyone, if not for society – at least for them.

"Jim, enough talk for this morning. I'm going to lay out in the sun for a while. You're welcome to join me, have a nap, or explore my room again if you wish." She knew which one he would choose and wasn't disappointed.

"If it's really ok with you, I think I'd like to explore your room again. Is there anywhere I shouldn't look? Anything I am not allowed to open or see?"

"There are no secrets anymore. Enjoy yourself, love."

"Yes Mistress," he answered happily and went off to his task.

Susan thought for a moment about whether to remove the bikini or not. She usually preferred laying out nude for the all-over tan and for the feel of a breeze blowing across her nipples and between her legs. But for now, she decided it was better to keep the suit on, not for modesty's sake, but to create some tan lines in the new suit Jim had chosen for her. It was a way of letting him leave his mark on her body and she liked that idea. She would watch him over the next few weeks as the lines deepened. If they had the desired effect, she'd keep them. With the triangles arranged carefully over each nipple and her cunt, she laid back to enjoy the sun's caress.

In her room, with full permission and as much time as he needed, Jim didn't know quite where to start. He thought about it for a minute and decided to go somewhere new, the laundry hamper. The notion of sniffing panties had never been his thing, but he was adopting a lot that had never been his thing until today. 

He pulled out the pair she'd been wearing this very morning at breakfast. The white thong was right on top of the hamper and he pulled it out to inspect. With some hesitation, he sniffed at the crotch, down low on the front triangle. Smelled like her pussy. What else would he have expected? He felt his cock start to stir and went on with the inspection. He ran the thin back, right where her asshole would have been, under his nose and breathed deep. He felt his cock get harder as the scent of his mother's ass filled his nose. It would have been unthinkable a couple of days ago, but now it seemed like the only natural reaction was to put that strip into his mouth and suck every bit of flavor he could find out of it. 

Next he took the matching bra and pressed the inside of the cups against his face. He could smell the faint lingering scent of her soap and perfume. It was good, but it wasn't anywhere near as good as the smell of her ass.

Replacing the items in the hamper and moving on, he couldn't help wondering if she'd driven him right out of his fucking mind. She had somehow made the idea of being her slave, in a very literal sense, appealing. He actually wanted to serve her, and be denied by her, and be punished and humiliated by her. What had she done to make that happen? How had she gotten inside his head? It didn't make any sense to his logical side, but the rest of him had bought in completely. Maybe it was best to just go with it and sort out the intellectual components later, if at all. What difference did they make? It felt good and they were both happy. Accept it and move on, he thought.

And move on he did... to the closet. She'd mentioned a box with a strap-on in it and he wanted to have a look so he'd know just what he was getting into, or more precisely what was getting into him. It took very little digging. He looked just behind the sexy shoes he had polished for her. His mother was tidy and of course she would keep the spurned gifts from his father in one location. 

She wasn't kidding. It was bigger than his, probably modeled after some pornstar. He didn't have a ruler with him but this thing had to be about nine inches long. It was thicker around than his too. There would never be a doubt about who had the big dick in this house, he was sure of that much. Damn. Could he even take that thing? He'd never had anything bigger than a girl's kinky finger in his ass before. "I guess I'll find out soon enough," he muttered under his breath. The harness it was in was a nice one. Dad wasn't cheap, he'd give him that much. The leather was thick and well-sewn. It wasn't the usual low-grade workmanship you'd expect from a porn shop. He'd probably had it custom made. Jim couldn't help wondering if his father had snuck around her clothing drawers and her closet much the same as he had yesterday, trying to figure out what size this should be. He chuckled at the thought and it occurred to him that there really was something special about his mother to have men wanting to throw themselves, not at her cunt... but at her feet. 

He slid the dildo between his lips, thinking he might as well see how difficult this was going to be. It went in, but nowhere near all the way. He could barely make it to the back of his throat, the damn thing was so fat. She might not be happy with that, but if she wasn't she'd probably just push harder. He put it back in the box, hoping not to see it again for quite a while.

Next he pulled out the contents of the bedside table with the porn and toys, all of it, and put it on the bed laid out so he could take a good look. He stretched out on her bed beside it, fondled each of the toys, and when satisfied with that, he started going through her porn page by page. 

The pictures showed, as he remembered, a clear interest in older women with younger men. She had apparently become aware of the "cougar" idea that was taking hold in pop culture and found it appealing. Some of these, maybe half, were of the CFNM genre. Clothed Female, Nude Male was something he found interesting. Perhaps it was an exhibitionist streak in him or perhaps it was the clear dominance of the clothed woman contrasted with the vulnerability of the nude male. In any event, he liked imagining himself in the positions he saw depicted, particularly those involving more than one woman. He imagined himself humbled and naked in front of a room of women having tea and conversation, bringing them their cups and saucers, obeying their commands and felt his cock stiffen. 

Then he turned to the books. There were a few that were just romance type porn and a few more that verged into BDSM. Obviously something along these lines had been in her consciousness for quite a while, but he doubted that it had involved him. Probably it was no more than fantasy material for masturbation and she probably had thought that was all it would ever be, but here he was, making it real. 

He laid on her bed, inhaling the scent of her pillow and began to stroke his dick, not to cum, but just to enjoy the feeling of desire and pent up sexual tension. Soon enough she would allow him to release, he trusted that, and it was enough for now to do what he was doing.

Jim looked at the clock on her bedside table and realized he'd been in her room for two hours and just at that moment, the door opened and she walked in. 

"Time to get started, pet. Did you happen to find the paddle that's tucked under my mattress?"

"No, Ma'am. I never thought about looking under your mattress for anything," he said.

She explained, "It's another of your father's gifts to me. I slipped grabbed it once when I heard a strange noise in the house at night and after that, I thought it was comforting to have it handy just in case I needed to whack a prowler in the head. It's not really much of a weapon, but it's something. Get it out now."

Feeling around under her side of the mattress, he found it easily and pulled it free. It was a plain piece of wood with cutouts at one end to form a handle. He guessed it was about two feet long and given its weight, it would pack quite a wallop. She stretched out her hand and he gave it over.

"I told you that you would learn to fear me. There's no time like the present. Lay over the end of my bed, ass up, and I will teach you why it's best not to disobey or piss me off," she said in a calm even voice. There was no anger, no fierceness. Her tone sounded matter-of-fact and business-as-usual. 

She continued, "Because this is an example of what punishment will be like, there will be no warm-up with my hand, no gradual building to work up to the full strokes, and no pleasure at all – for you. To be quite honest, I'm pretty sure I will enjoy it. I'll let you know afterward."

"Crack!" Jim couldn't be sure if he heard it first or felt it first. Either way the sensations that shot to his brain were nothing like he'd ever felt in his life. He'd been punished as a child, by a reluctant parent who hated the duty but did it for his own good. But it had been nothing like this. He screamed in pain and confusion and when his mind cleared just a little, he wondered how many more there would be. 

She smiled and knew exactly what he was wondering and was pleased he knew better than to ask. She wouldn't have told him anyway since counting down to a number would give him comfort. She laid the wood to him again, at least as hard as the first time, and saw his ass glow red. If she kept this up, there would probably be some bruising, but that was ok. She had in mind a plan, not a specific number, more of a purpose and she would reach her objective.

He saw stars, colors, and heard the relentless whack of her paddle. He wasn't sure how many times she had hit him; he had lost count after the third or fourth time. He wasn't sure he could take much more and he felt tears streaming down his face. He was crying. Jim Helmand was crying for the first time in decades. "Please Mistress, I beg you, no more. I beg you," he managed to stutter out between tears, breaths, and jolts of intense pain.

Susan smiled again, knowing she had put him where he needed to be, but she didn't stop. She calculated that another four swings of the paddle would be necessary to make sure he didn't think that his pleas for mercy had melted her heart. One by one she gave them, pausing just a little longer between strokes to give him the hope that he'd just suffered the last of them, only to snatch away the hope by landing another squarely on his bruised flesh. 

Jim's experience of the last four blows was quite different than the satisfaction felt by his mother. He had, before each of the first two, he begged for mercy. Before the third he remembered her warning never to try to push her, and remained silent. Before the fall of the fourth, he had resigned himself that this would end when she decided and not before. And when the fifth strike did not come, he fell in love with her all over again. 

His ass was burning and he wondered if it would ever be the same again, but that was quickly forgotten when a new pain seared through him. She raked her long red nails down his back, both hands at the same time, and spoke, "Do you understand what punishment is now?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he said in a hoarse whisper.

"I will do some things that humiliate you and hurt you and we will both love them. Punishment is a little different, as you just found out. Make no mistake, I did not mind it. It felt nothing like punishing you when you were a child. That, I hated. This, not so much," she smiled at him. "Even so, if I am punishing you more than once a month, something is wrong. I would not expect you to need this level of correction even that often. See that you don't; I can swing the board harder than I did today. 

As she said these things, she had come around to sit on the side of the bed and was caressing his face and back, the tenderness a startling contrast to the past few minutes. Her purpose had been fulfilled. He still loved her as much – maybe more – than before, but he also feared her and would never willingly put himself in a position to need punishment. 

Stripping off the tiny bikini, she stretched out, face down, on the bed next to him. "Worship me," she said. 

Almost by instinct he got her meaning and moved himself between her legs. His hands spread her cheeks and he found her most private entrance with his lips and tongue. Her ass tasted of sweat and its musky scent filled his nostrils. He could feel himself falling deeper under her spell with each pass. She had given him the right to decide when to move to her pussy and he knew he could switch at any time, but he chose to stay where he was for now. The emotion he felt at the thought that he was now her slave, so far beneath her that he counted it a blessing to lick her asshole, was overwhelming and he had not had anywhere near enough of it.

She understood what he was doing, had an idea of what he was feeling, and allowed him to continue there for as long as he wished, while she drifted in and out of conscious thought and a dreamlike state. Both were pure pleasure.

Part 8

He had risen a couple of hours earlier and left her sleeping in her bed. Dinner, composed of various leftovers, warmed and combined to make new dishes, was almost ready. About to open the door to her room to wake her, he heard movement inside and decided to step quietly back down the hall to the kitchen.

Probably she was dressing in something sexy for dinner, he thought. The hardness in his cock almost never subsided now and he started laughing to himself about the "If you've had an erection for more than 4 hours..." warnings about Viagra. No Viagra was necessary around here. That much was for sure.

She came down the hall, clicking with each step. He had guessed right about her dressing in something sexy, but other than that nothing was as he expected. She was wearing the leather corset he had seen and polished when he first intruded into her privacy yesterday. It looked as though it had been made for her, and it had. She had once, only once, considered taking her ex-husband on as her slave. He begged her to allow him to measure her and order a custom corset to her specific dimensions. After climbing all over her with his tape measure for about 20 minutes, he came away with the dozen different measurements required and a couple of months later, this beautiful thing arrived on her doorstep. Unfortunately in the period between the measuring and the delivery she had decided she simply would not waste her time with him as a slave. He'd end up annoying her and little more, so the corset gathered dust until yesterday and was left unworn until today. Jim was the first person to see her in it.

The heels she wore were much like some women wore to work. They were high, black, and sharp toed. The difference was that the heel was maybe an inch higher and under the ball of her foot was a platform of corresponding height. They weren't stripper shoes or porn shoes. She could wear them to the office IF she wanted to look work-sexy. She decided tonight as she put them on that she would start doing exactly that.

Black thigh-high stockings completed the ensemble, held firmly in place by garters attached to the lower edge of the corset. 

She looked like every man's over-the-top fantasy dominatrix and he loved it. The only things missing were a whip and a strap-on and he was thankful that they were missing. Her tits filled the cups of the corset beautifully and the tops of them jiggled as she moved. He loved that about big tits. They made him think of the most desirable servings of Jello in the world.

She drank in his appreciation, feeling swell her ego and wet her cunt, before finally speaking, "Nicely done with dinner pet, but it's not quite time to eat. Come with me." She turned and went back down the hall to her room where he saw the strap-on laying in the middle of her bed. She stood at the foot of the bed, said "Put it on me," and waited.

The straps and buckles were self-explanatory and it took only a minute or two before she stood before him with a nine inch black rubber cock. He had to admit, the black rubber went well with what she was wearing, but he still wished it were safely back in its box. 

"Take your position. You may use the bed to lean against. And do try to relax. I'm going to take this slow so as not to hurt you. This is necessary to keep your mind where it should be. It's going to happen at least once a week from now on. You will learn to enjoy it and you might as well start today," she said in a smooth authoritative tone.

"Yes Ma'am, he said, bending over and placing his hands on the bed. 

He heard her open the bedside table drawer, the one with the toys in it. In his mind he felt some relief that she was getting the lube he had seen in there. Of course she's going to use lube, she said I was to enjoy it, he thought. Since this was to become a routine part of his life in the future, he set his mind to do as she had suggested. He relaxed his muscles as best he could and focused his mind on the sensation as she rubbed lube into him and slid first one finger, and then two inside. She had a gentle touch, much in contrast with the earlier punishing hand and he did find himself enjoying the experience on several different levels. He was turned on by being touched somewhere that only a couple of the women he'd dated were ever interested in touching, and their efforts had been very tentative and brief compared to this. He also liked the feeling of having no choice. No choice meant no responsibility and no guilt for the enjoyment of it. And yes, the fact that she was his mother, flying in the face of societal expectations, did it for him too. He hadn't fantasized about her as an adolescent or a young man; it wasn't like that, so he didn't get the thrill of a long held fantasy finally fulfilled, but he did enjoy doing something that was so "wrong."

The pressure against his opening was gentle but insistent and as she pushed the head of the dildo, he made a conscious effort to relax, to want it – her – inside him. She really was good at this. As she said, she enjoyed being on the receiving end, so she knew how it felt and had a good sense of when to press forward and when to pull back. 

She was in no hurry and there was no need to hurry. They were both enjoying the process and time was no issue. Eventually she had worked the entire cock into him and started a slow in and out motion. She was impressed with his control and his willingness. He was able to relax, able to give himself freely, able to submit to her completely, and it was everything she had hoped it would be. 

Feeling her cock deep in his ass, fucking him in and out, realizing he'd just become her bitch, drove him deeper into his submissiveness. It wasn't the painful shocking experience that punishment had been, but it was even more elemental on an emotional level. He felt owned and he liked it. 

"Pet, time for you to lay on your back," she said as she pulled the cock out of his ass and walked to the bathroom. 

He obediently flipped over with his ass at the edge of the bed, legs up in the air. 

"No," she said, returning with a towel which she laid flat on the bed, "Lay on this, fully on the bed, and get comfortable."




Practical Insanity Ch. 07-09



He did as she instructed and she climbed onto the bed between his legs, guided her cock back into his ass and began fucking him in the missionary position. 

"This is nice. I missed seeing your face when you were bent over the bed." 

He smiled, but it didn't seem like any additional words were needed, so he lifted his head slightly, trying to reach her lips with his. She closed the remaining distance and opened his mouth with her tongue, entering him in two places at the same time. Heaven, he thought.

But heaven on earth never lasts and this time was no exception. "Pet, I enjoyed this very much, but now it's time for a different kind of enjoyment."

She got up off him, stood at the end of the bed, and said, "Remove it and place it in the sink in the hall bath. You'll clean it and put it away later – not back in the closet. Put it in the nightstand where it will be handy."

He nodded and followed her instructions. When he returned, he saw her laying on the bed, corset off, and legs spread, "Thank me," was all she said. 

The temptation was to jump on and start fucking. He'd been hard for 2 days now and it wasn't easy to focus on anything else, but she had said to thank her, not to fuck her, so he reined in his cock once more, said "Thank you, Mistress," and slid his tongue deep into her asshole. 

After a few minutes, he began to lick her cunt, sucking gently at the lips, teasing her clit. He knew his best chance at an orgasm of his own was to please her. She knew exactly what he was thinking and smiled at what a good boy and fast learner he was. Susan Helmand laid back against her pillows and let her son lick her to orgasm after orgasm until she finally said, "Slave, give me your cock. I want to feel it in my pussy. You will cum tonight, but not until I am finished and give the command. Understood?"

"Yes Mistress," he said, realizing that this was in no way about him. He'd get to cum, yes, but he was sure that was more a training tool and a way of keeping him sexually healthy, than anything else. His dick was being treated like it was nothing more than one of the dildos in her drawer. She would use it until she was satisfied and only then would she allow him to orgasm. He felt like an object, a sex toy, a slave, and he loved her even more. He couldn't be quite sure what the source of it was, but he felt the desire to please her growing stronger, welling up inside him, taking him over, and driving out all other considerations.

Susan had considered allowing him to cum sooner, knowing he would easily get hard again that same evening due to his age, but she had a better idea. Instead, she would let him fuck her until she was fully satisfied, allow him one orgasm, and let his remaining sexual energy stay pent up, helping him to submit and serve. Even though he could easily go two or three times a night, she would probably only allow him to do that on very rare occasions. Control is everything, she thought.

They fucked for over an hour in various positions, various tempos, and he continued to make her cum long after she'd lost count of her orgasms. They both were surprised, and pleased, at his ability to wait for his own, but finally when she'd had all she could handle, she gave him the command he had been working toward, "Pet, you may cum. Fill my pussy with it."

That was all it took, that and 3 more strokes, to release what he was sure must have been the biggest load he'd ever shot. It just kept coming and coming, two full days of sexual tension let out all at once. When it ended, he collapsed next to her, nuzzling her neck, smiling, and breathing hard. She pushed his head down, offering her nipple to his mouth and he took it, not in a greedy, eager way, but in a way that let her know he was home, safe, satisfied, and had no desire to be anywhere else. 

But she wasn't finished just yet. There was one more part of his training that she felt was important for this particular evening. She let him enjoy the afterglow for a few more minutes and then spoke, "Pet, I need to use the restroom. Come."

He raised his eyebrows but did not balk or hesitate as she led him into her bathroom and pointed to the large walk-in shower. "Down," came the command. He lowered himself to a sitting position. She said nothing but continued to point downward, until he laid flat on his back. She straddled him, spread her pussy lips with her fingers, and shot a long hard stream.

He felt the warm flow, smelled her piss, and was surprised to find that he enjoyed every bit of it, even when she shifted her stream to his face. He couldn't explain the urge to open his mouth, and held it that way until she overflowed his mouth. Her taste wasn't what he'd call good, but it also wasn't bad. He could do this going forward without dread. 

Truth be told, he might even look forward to it. It was deliciously low and he had begun to understand that one of the things that appealed to him about being her slave was debasing himself in her service. Jim Helmand was a proud man, with good reason. He was smart, handsome, had accomplished much in his academic career, and had excellent prospects professionally. But worshipping her asshole with his tongue and being her personal piss target were ways he could demonstrate, with actions not words, the height of her pedestal. He was not "a slave." He was HER slave. He didn't need to serve someone to the degree that anyone would do. His Mistress would be someone special, worthy of such devotion, someone who could in his own mind, be so far above him that the feeling of her piss or her asshole on his tongue would seem like a gift from heaven. His mother was such a woman and he was happy to be right where he was – beneath her – literally and figuratively.

"Clean," came the command, and he obediently licked whatever last drops and residue he could find from her cunt. 

"Now I'd like a nice shower, with you attending of course, and then to bed."

She turned on the water because he didn't yet know what temperature she liked. In the future this would be his job, but for tonight, he'd done quite enough. Well, almost enough, she thought. "Soap me, all over, and make me enjoy it."

He was gentle, but vigorous and she was a mass of bubbles in only a minute or two. She rinsed, rotating slowly in the shower stream, letting him savor the sight of hot water running off her nipples and down her body. And then, without warning, she stepped out saying, "Finish up and I'll see you in bed."

He watched her towel off and smiled to himself, wondering if all the nights, or most of them, or at least a lot of them, would be like this. No matter. Tonight was like this and if it was a long wait to the next such evening, memories of this one would feed and sustain him for quite a while.

Slipping into bed beside her, she again guided his head to her breast and let his mouth find her nipple. They both fell quickly to sleep, with the tug of his mouth on her breast the last sensation either of them felt. 

Part 9

Sunday passed quickly and in a haze of forbidden sex, degrading submissions, the pool, the sun, lingerie, and nudity. More rules were laid down about how life in the house would be conducted. Mundane things were discussed like money, school schedules, and how to manage things with the maid.

It was decided that he would establish the appearance of using one of the empty bedrooms and, to some degree the fiction would be true. She certainly had no room for his clothes in her closet – and wouldn't have them there if she did. She had no desire to look at her dresser and see a man's things on it ever again – and she wouldn't. He would have his own space, for things, for study, for alone time, and for times when she simply did not want his company. 

But each and every night, he would share her bed. Susan believed that was important to maintaining the bond of slave and Mistress. She knew some women preferred their slaves to sleep on the floor, but in her mind an unshared bed was a cold bed and the knowledge that a naked male was sleeping on the floor at her command would not provide the kind of warmth she sought.

She also instructed him to have for her, by next Sunday, a written service agreement that detailed the relationship he hoped to have with her. She would, of course, make changes as she saw fit before they both signed it. The term would be one year and he would have unlimited opportunity in the coming week to discuss things and ask questions of her to aid him in the preparation of it.

There were concerns on her side about what going back to school, reentering the "real world" might do to him, but there was no way to guard against it any better than she already had done. She felt she had taken possession of him, body and soul, and if it only lasted for one weekend it wasn't nearly as strong as she had believed. As for herself, she didn't think there would be any problem at all.

Putting on clothes and getting ready to face the day was an odd feeling for Jim. Odder still was the walk across the parking lot to his first class. Looking around him he was sure that nobody, not one person here, had a weekend like he had just experienced. It made him a little queasy to realize that if they knew, they would point and stare, laugh and mock, to the point that he would have to leave this college and move somewhere he was completely unknown.

Pushing those fears and doubts out of his mind worked, but only for a few minutes at a time. He was fine for a little while, and then he'd look at a teacher or another student and wonder, what if they found out?

By lunch the inner turmoil had built to the point that he wondered how he was going to make this work, but then he had the fortunate opportunity to overhear a conversation between two female students. It wasn't about anything much, their recent dates, school concerns, whether the parents would come across with enough cash for a decent spring break trip, just that sort of thing. But he heard it completely differently than he would have last week. A few days ago this conversation would have seemed normal to him, worth talking about, even interesting. Today it was childish, simple, and unappealing. 

Neither of them gave the impression that they were inexperienced at sex, but hearing them talk about it was like listening to a freshman muddling his way through an algebra problem. They got to the end eventually but there was no art to it and it left the listener with no desire to hear more.

He realized he had crossed a subtle boundary this weekend in addition to all of the obvious ones. Before, he had been satisfied with sex that involved the body only. But this weekend had indoctrinated him into a new sex that fully engaged the mind as well. It was the difference between watery decaf and strong black coffee. He knew he wouldn't be going back to decaf again, probably ever.

So he was done with "girls" entirely. Even if he and his mother never did one more thing sexually, he knew he would only want to be with women, older women, from now on, an acceptable practice in today's world, if a bit on the fringe. 

That only left the incest for him to wrestle with. But she was past menopause. There was zero possibility that a child could result from anything they did, so was the incest really a problem? 

Clearly it was, but only if it ever became known. As long as they kept it their secret, it was no problem at all. People kept secrets every day, about sexuality, unethical behavior, unappealing ambitions, embarrassing past events, and no doubt much more. Why couldn't he? 

The obvious answer was that he could, especially when the reward for doing so was enormous. 

For the remainder of the day he went to class and had no further problems. He had reasoned them away and came to conclusions that were logical and sustainable over time and it felt good. He couldn't help wondering though, if his mother was going through the same process across town in her office.

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By the time her third patient had come and gone, Susan Helmand had experienced most, if not all, of what Jim had been dealing with. She buzzed her receptionist and said, "Give me 15 minutes before sending in Mr. Ellis please. I have some thoughts I want to jot down before I forget them. Thanks."

She leaned back in her chair and took a deep breath. "Enough of this nonsense," she whispered aloud to herself. 

Mentally she listed the pros and cons of the situation she had put herself in. On the one hand, she was fucking her own son. So what? There wasn't going to be a pregnancy. What did it really matter then?

On the other hand, she was living at home like a Goddess with a beautiful nude male at her beck and call, serving her, servicing her, and eager to accommodate any wish or whim. A woman would have to be a fool not to want that.

On the one hand, if it were ever made public knowledge, she would probably have to shut down her practice and possibly even lose her license. 

But on the other hand, who the hell is going to make it public knowledge? Not her certainly. Not Jim. And that left... nobody.

She was indeed done with "this nonsense." 

Susan Helmand had created a world for herself that most women don't even know is possible on this earth. Of those who do know, most won't attempt to seize it and make it their own. And of those who try, most will fail because their own commitment isn't strong enough or they have made the attempt with an inferior male.

But where all of them had failed out of ignorance, lack of commitment, or unsuitable stock, she had succeeded brilliantly. 

She smiled to herself as she said under her breath, "If my asshole doesn't deserve to be licked, whose does?"

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That evening, turning into her own driveway, she was pleased to see Jim's car already there. She stepped onto her porch, tried the doorknob, and was again pleased to find it open to her touch. Entering the house she saw her son, nude, come into the room where he dropped to his knees and then lowered himself until his palms and forehead were touching the floor. 

She smiled, reached under her skirt and tugged the thong panties away, letting them drop to the floor. Kicking free of them, she walked over to where he was and tapped him three times on the shoulder. As he started to rise to his feet, she put a hand on his shoulder to keep him kneeling, then turned away from him, lifting the back of her skirt.

"Welcome home, Mistress," he said just before his tongue found its target.