14 comments/ 110159 views/ 93 favorites What Price My Mother? By: bumblegrum This is a story of mother/son incest and female submission. If this offends you, please read no further. All characters are over the age of 18, and all characters and events in this story are fictitious, and any resemblance to any real persons, alive or dead, is purely coincidental. I would again like to thank my editor, Hatsuda, for his unfailing support and encouragement. ++++++++++++++++++++ "You fucking animal," I screamed at my stepfather. "You can't sell people, and especially you can't sell my mother." He looked at me, his piggy eyes set in a heavy, creased, unsmiling face. "Don't be so naïve, little boy. Just listen for once in your stupid life. I owe certain people who shall be nameless a large sum of money, money I haven't got. Your slut of a mother could fetch a large sum if I was to ship her to certain contacts in West Africa—they're very keen on white meat, even if it is as old and used as that bitch." I jumped out of my chair, but my stepfather, a large, brutal man could still hand me a sound beating even at fifty, and I knew he carried a knife. "Get back in your seat unless you want to catch a flogging," he said with a sardonic grin. "Alternatively, I could give her to my main creditor to use as he thinks fit. She might last a year if she's lucky—or unlucky, depending on how you look at it. On the other hand, because I'm feeling generous, and I don't need there to be any, shall we say, 'complications', I'm prepared to sell her to you at the knockdown price of $25,000. Take it or leave it but I want an answer right now." I knew I could afford the price from a legacy from a maiden great aunt, but I didn't trust my stepfather further than I could kick him. "Why should I trust you? As soon as you get the money, you'll renege on the deal and then we're in a worse situation than we are now." "Well, you'll just have to trust me. Part of the deal is a complete set of divorce papers, and I shan't want to set eyes on either of you again. It's in my interests to disappear without any loose ends, and we can exchange the goods for the money here, but it must be by the end of the week. And in cash—no cheques, transfers or other traceable methods." "And if I don't agree?" I asked, although I was pretty sure of the answer. "She'll disappear, leaving behind a grieving widower. And any nonsense from you trying to persuade the cops I had something to do with it, will cause you to suffer substantial pain and injury." He had me over a barrel and we both knew it. I sighed, "Does mum know about this 'deal'?" Another sardonic grin confirmed this would be as big a surprise to her as it had been to me. The alternatives were too appalling to contemplate, and I knew he was capable of doing exactly what he said. "Okay, you bastard, you've got a deal." "Easy on the insults, kid or the price will go up. Be here at seven o'clock on Friday evening, and you can take the whore with you." I gave him a look that ought to have made him curl up and die, but all I got was a sneer and shown the door. I was able to raise the cash, 250 one hundred dollar bills, with some fast talking to a disapproving bank manager, and I arrived at Reg's place at the appointed time. Reg Rainbird, my stepfather, and a more inappropriate name I'd yet to hear. He nodded me in with his trademark sneer. "Got the cash?" "Maybe. Where's mum?" "Oh Martha, you have a visitor." I knew how much my mother hated that name and always liked to be called by her second name, Suzie. She appeared in the doorway, not looking at me, but knelt in a submissive posture in front of my stepfather. The shock of this scene must have shown clearly on my face, as he gave his mirthless laugh. "Not quite what you expected, eh?" I hadn't seen mum for at least twelve months; Reg had made sure of that. She had changed out of all belief; she looked gaunt, her hair greasy, her skin looking gray and unhealthy and her hands worn with broken nails. She wore a dingy, shabby dress and thongs, but worst of all, an air of misery and total hopelessness. "Well, you pathetic slut, I've found someone who's prepared to buy your useless body. Say 'hello' to you new master." She turned and looked at me through defeated eyes, laced liberally with fear. When she realised who her new "owner" would be, her eyes became almost impossibly wide; she screamed and fainted. "Stupid bitch." Reg moved to kick her, but I swore at him. "Fucking leave her alone, Reg. Here's your blood money, now give me the divorce papers and we'll get out of this stinking snake pit." He produced the papers and a cursory glance showed they were in order. Mum had recovered, but surprisingly, clung to Reg's legs. "Please master, you can't do this. He's my son; I can't bear for him to see me like this ..." "Shut up and get out, the pair of you. You wimps make me sick. I'm out of here tonight and this is the last you'll ever hear of me." Without another word, I picked up the battered cardboard suitcase and two plastic shopping bags holding my mother's world, and guided her out to my car. We drove back to my flat in silence, but she gasped when she saw the complete disarray that greeted her eyes. "Sorry, mum, but this place has got too small for me, and I'm in the middle of packing to move to a new place. So we'll both be camping in this muddle for a couple of days." I had found a place with 3½ bedrooms on a long lease, and although it needed some renovations; it was supposed to be haunted, so the rent was dirt cheap. "Yes, master, I'm truly sorry for causing you these problems." She dropped to her knees in a submissive posture. "Okay, first things first. Please get up and stop this 'master' nonsense. I'm Brett and you're mum. Hungry?" She nodded. "Okay, mum, I have some instructions for you. First, I want you to have a hot shower, then come out here and we'll eat. Then I want you to have an early night and get some decent sleep. We'll have a good talk in the morning." She disappeared making no sound; I imagined she'd had to be careful around Reg. I prepared a pot of spaghetti Bolognese enough, I thought, for both of us, although mum was clearly ravenous. As soon as she finished, she rushed to clear the plates, but I slowed her down. "Take it easy for a while, mum, then get yourself to bed." She obeyed without hesitation and after sitting in silence for a while, watching TV and watching me with some uncertainty, she disappeared to bed. I camped on the lounge, and next morning, I seemed to be having a wonderful dream. My favourite movie star kneeling beside me, sucking my cock, working her tongue around the head and taking me deep in her throat. Her hands juggled my balls and she made incoherent sounds of lust and desire. I stayed with the dream, my climax getting ever closer before I woke—to discover it wasn't a dream at all. My mother was kneeling naked by the side of the couch, with my rigid and highly excited cock buried deep in her mouth. I jerked awake, shouting, "Mum, what the fuck do you think you're doing?" She pulled off me, skittering backwards across the floor with terror chasing fear across her face. "I'm s ... sorry, ma ... master; this slut m ... must wake master this way at eight o'clock every morning or be punished severely. This ... this s ... slut apologises for doing the wrong thing." So saying she got to her feet and touched her toes, presenting her bottom to me for punishment. I knew we had a lot of issues to work through, but maybe not right now. "Mum, go get your robe, then come back and we'll have breakfast and then talk." She reappeared in a ratty old dressing gown, but then insisted, "Master, it is my duty to make your breakfast; please may I serve you this way?" I had a sense that to try to break previous patterns of behaviour too quickly might create problems, so I agreed to bacon and eggs, toast and coffee. She was fast and very efficient, but then walked away falling to a submissive posture when I prepared to eat. "No mother, regardless of what has happened before, we eat together. Now, make yourself whatever you want and come and join me." She did, but watched me surreptitiously, trying to gauge whether I might erupt in anger. We ate in silence then dressed, both of us almost identical in worn jeans and tee shirts. "Mum," I started, "you are now free of that bastard, Reg, and we need to stop this 'master' nonsense. I am Brett and you are mum, and that's how it should be. I see it as my role to protect you and help you get back to being the real Suzie. Would you like me to arrange some psychological counselling for you?" "No, no thank you, ma ... Brett. You're all I need, and I shall be eternally grateful if you can be there for me while I find myself again. It won't be easy, though, and sometimes I may slip back into old patterns. Please forgive me if I do." "Forgiveness won't be necessary, but if you feel a need to be forgiven, you may take it for granted. Would it help to talk about what has happened to you?" "Brett I think you're the only person I can talk to and who would understand and not judge me. It's a long story though; can we take it slowly and in bits and pieces?" The rest of the day was chaotic as I finished packing for the move. Mum tried to help, but she found the adjustment to being with me enormously difficult, and half way through the afternoon, she broke down in tears and hid in the bathroom. I coaxed her out, and held her until the storm passed, and her gratitude was almost embarrassing. When she told me she could never remember being treated with such kindness and compassion, I wondered about the full extent of her suffering. I realised she needed to talk, to get her experiences out into the open and to explore how our relationship was going to work. Just then, however, I needed to concentrate on moving, a good thing in retrospect. It gave mother time to adapt to being with me without hurrying herself too quickly into the story of her life. It took a couple of days to move into our new home, and there were extra furniture and accessories to be obtained. This was a longer term project, and my mother took great pleasure from being part of making decisions and fitting out the house. A day or two after we moved in, foul weather found us sitting in front of an open fire, relaxing. Mum took this opportunity to tell me some of her story. She told me her father had been a hard man, demanding absolute obedience from her or else some harsh physical punishment. Mum came to understand this as a reaction to her mother dying as she gave birth to my mother. This pattern continued until at sixteen, she fell pregnant with me. She told me there had been a monumental row, but her father paid my father money to, as he had said, "take her off my hands." Mum told me her relationship with my father, Don, had involved discipline and physical punishment, but he had been emotionally unavailable, being distant and unsupportive. I knew a lot of his energy was focussed on me, but he had a rigid and patriarchal view of my development, trying to minimise my relationship with mum. I never fell into such a trap; we started to argue a lot and he became progressively less interested in me. When I was sixteen, the world changed; my father died suddenly from a ruptured aneurysm and my mother and I were pretty much alone in the world. I remembered that time clearly, but mum seemed disoriented and unable to cope, even though I tried to support her as best I could. Now mum screwed up her courage and started to tell me the whole story, looking at me with an uncomfortable expression. "Brett, honey, I don't know how you will take this; please don't think too badly of me. Even as a young child, I understood I had to obey. After I reached puberty, it dawned on me; I needed someone to control me, to make personal decisions for me, and to dictate my life. I found I needed certainty, and knowing there was someone I could lean on gave me the only confidence I had. Being a lonely child without any real friends caused me to rely more heavily on the adults in my family. As a result, the men in my life had me submit to them, humiliate me and punish me and in this perverse way, I could gain pleasure. When my father spanked me, I told myself that as the man, the "superior being", I must please him. And regardless of the guilt, I enjoyed the spankings. He never abused me sexually, but sometimes I almost wished he would so I could get satisfaction from someone else." She continued with her narrative. "At first, when I started to pleasure myself, I really enjoyed all the wonderful sensations, and then my father discovered my secret and showed me all about his view of domination. He spanked me, called me demeaning names and humiliated me by making me stand in the corner of the room wearing a dunce's cap with "Slut" printed on it. But, in my odd way, I assumed this must also please him, so I let it continue, not that I had much option." "Then I met your father, and he took the idea of domination much further. He spanked me and whipped me as my father had, but he also humiliated me in public and made me do things I'd never dreamed possible. He tied me up and dripped hot wax on my nipples, bound my tits and flogged them until I screamed, pissed on me, bound me to an A frame and filled my pussy and my arse with various objects. And each time it happened, I reached an orgasm that shook my whole body. I loved it. I loved all the nasty stuff and I wanted more; it became like a drug to me and I couldn't get enough. I'm sure this had become a substitute for a real loving, caring relationship I never had with your father or with Reg. I found my pleasure in perversity." "But then things changed. As your father started to lose interest in me, I became needier and it must have shown. Eventually, he became brutal, beating me with anything that came to hand, and it was no longer exciting but scary. And then he died." "I became lost. I didn't know what to do. I was still driven. I had depraved, degenerate needs and no way to have them met. I had one or two short relationships, but they were never able to satisfy my needs." "I remember that time, mum," I commented. "You seemed so lost, and I didn't know what to do, except encourage you to talk to me and be there to support you however I could." "You know, Brett, you saved my life. If it hadn't been for you, I would probably have killed myself. Or worse, just sold my body on the streets. Then I met Reg Rainbird, and I thought all my luck had changed. To begin with he seemed so considerate, so supportive I agreed to marry him. He performed really well in bed too at first, and gave me what I needed." "After a short time, a honeymoon, I suppose you might call it, he changed and turned into the monster you saw the other day. He had a gambling problem and drank too much. I begged him not to throw you out when you turned eighteen, but he told me he didn't give a damn about you. It soon became obvious he didn't give a damn about me either. He brutalised me with straps, floggers, paddles and canes. He made me go down on him at least twice a day and I sometimes had to clean his arse with my tongue. It was so bad I often vomited, and got a beating because of it." "Later, he could never seem to maintain an erection, so he stopped having sex with me, but when money became very tight, he whored me out to anyone who would pay a few dollars. It became a living nightmare; sometimes I'd have to service two or three men a night. That started just before I last saw you, and the last year has been hell." "Then he told me he was going to sell me, and made up lurid stories about how my life would be. I don't know when he thought about selling me to you, but when he brought me into that room and I saw you, I wanted to die. I couldn't bring myself to have my son, the one person I really loved, see me like that. But now I'm so grateful you're willing to listen without judging me." "Thank you, mum—I know how hard this has been for you. One thing I do know is what happened to you was not your fault and I don't hold any of it against you. We need to draw the line and start again, and I'll do anything I can to help you." An odd expression crossed her face, one of gratitude, blended with a sort of excitement I couldn't then identify. But she thanked me warmly, rewarding me with a chaste kiss on the cheek, and we left it at that. We settled into a domestic routine, although much of my time was spent setting up my business; I had contracted to a big developer to produce computer games and had already gained something of a reputation. Mum started to reinvent herself; she had a major makeover, bought herself new clothes and enrolled in the local gym. We established an easygoing relationship, but somehow mum seemed uneasy, edgy and lacking in confidence. I put this down to her experiences with Reg and although I offered her what support I could, it didn't seem to make much difference. That theory was blown out of the water a little later, and our lives changed completely. I had been out to visit a colleague, but I returned home earlier than expected. When I walked into the lounge, I was greeted by the sight of my mother, her jeans and plain white cotton panties discarded across the floor with her legs spread wide, her knees bent and her saturated pussy obscenely displayed. She was being ridden by a small, rather weedy looking guy who couldn't've been much more than eighteen. He thrust into her and rode her hard, impaling her with short sharp strokes as she moaned and thrashed under him, both coming closer to climax. He slapped her tits hard, causing my mother to scream, but her scream had a wanton quality of excitement and arousal as if she relished her treatment by this stranger. "Take it all, bitch; take my cock up your needy cunt. Cum for me, you whore when I drown you with my jizz." My mother screamed, "Fuck me, fuck me hard. Oh god, I need this so much. Treat me like the slut I am. Fuck me like a whore. Oh god, just make me CUM." I had seen more than enough, and interrupted their fuckfest, shouting, "What the hell is going on here?" My mother screamed, pulling away from her conqueror's pulsating prick and rolling into the foetal position on the floor. The guy jumped to his feet, backing away from me. "She wanted it, mister. She propositioned me at the shopping centre. She told me she was looking for someone to give her a good fucking and offered to pay me to do it. She ..." "Get the fuck out of here you pathetic excuse for a human being. If I ever see you anywhere near here again, I'll give you a thrashing you'll never forget. Now, piss off." With that gentle instruction, he ran out of the door as fast as his legs would carry him, leaving me to deal with my mother. I said nothing, looking down at my mother's near nakedness, still curled up on the floor with tears streaming down her face. She got up slowly and grabbed a gown, struggling into it, her head down, refusing to look at me. "You have two options, mother. Either tell me exactly what happened or pack your bags and leave now." At last she looked at me, with the same air of desolation and hopelessness I had seen when I last saw her with Reg. "Please don't reject me, Brett. Please don't make me go," she sobbed. This was way outside my experience, and I had no clear idea of how to deal with it. "Okay, mother, you've chosen the 'tell all' option, so you'd better sit down and give me all the details around that little cameo. Everything, please; don't leave out any details; I will know if you're lying." A bold claim and one which I doubted whether I could justify. She sobbed and drew a deep breath. "I don't really know where to begin, Brett, but I'll try. I've already told you how much I loved all the nasty stuff and it had become an obsession with me. I needed it like an alcoholic needs his next drink. Reg's vicious brand of punishment didn't cure me of that need but I just became trapped in myself, trying to avoid his beatings and keeping myself as safe as I could. But the need still smouldered." What Price My Mother? "Then you rescued me, and I felt as though I was free and could live again, but now I had a different problem. How could I get my needs for sexual satisfaction met? You may not know this, but I've been masturbating quite heavily, although it's only a pale imitation of the real thing, and doesn't help much." "The kid you just threw out, his name's Joey by the way, didn't tell you the whole truth, although I can't make that an excuse. He'd started flirting with me at the shopping centre, and I found it flattering. One thing led to another, and he told me he thought I was really hot, and he wanted to have sex with me." "Are those the words he actually used, mum?" I enquired. My mother blushed. "No, he actually said, 'I'd like to stuff my rock hard prick up your cunt and fuck you until you scream'. I know I should have slapped his face or called security or something, but I gave in to my urges, and he took me in the back seat of his car." "How many times did he take you, mum?" "Twice in the car, and this time he persuaded me to let him come here because I'd told him there would be no-one else home this morning. And you got back early." "I see. So what does that make you, mum?" Her breath caught in her throat. "I'm a whore. I know I'm a whore, but I can't seem to find any way out of it. I can't escape from the fact that I'm submissive and I don't really want to." "Ever since I can remember, I've needed someone to control my personal life, but I've never been able to find someone I could trust. Someone who would have allowed me to feel safe and secure, so I could relax and let myself go and thoroughly enjoy the experience." "My father was a cruel autocrat, my husband, your father was indifferent and became insensitive to my needs, and although things started well with Reg, they soon deteriorated into brutality. So I'm still trying to find someone who would be able to control my experience of being dominated, but in ways where I knew I would be safe." "And you thought Joey would be that person?" I knew I sounded callous, but I didn't want there to be any misunderstanding. "Oh god, no. I was just desperate for some physical relief. I would be anything he wanted me to be so long as I could get the high of a real orgasm. Then you arrived, and I was even denied that." There was a half smile on her face, as if testing my response. "I think I can understand, but where will you go from here? What will you do now? If you want some psychological counselling or medical help, I can ..." My mother cut me off quickly. "No, Brett, in spite of how it must look to you, I'm not sick. Put simply, I enjoy sex and I enjoy, no, I need to be dominated, and those two things need to be combined with safety and trust—and love. If I could find the right person, I would be whatever he wanted me to be and do whatever he told me to do. But it is so difficult and I just don't know what to do now." Her tears started again and she looked defeated and forlorn. I gazed at my mother, under her tears, a most attractive woman, and suddenly saw her as just that. Not as my mother, but as a highly attractive, desirable but very vulnerable woman. The answer came to me in an instant and I shivered in anticipation and at the danger of what my mind was proposing to me. She looked at me with curiosity in her eyes. "Are you okay, Brett?" "Mother, I understand you need a man in your life to love and trust. In return you have told me you would do absolutely anything for him?" "Yes." I took a deep breath. "Mother, on several occasions you've called me 'master'. Do you think we could make that happen? Could you accept me as your Dom?" She gasped. "Brett, do you realise what you're saying? Do you know that would be incest? How could we ...?" "Mother, let's cut through all the 'ifs', 'buts' and 'maybe's'. If that is what you really want and you believe we can make it work, take off your robe, come over here, sit in my lap and kiss me." Her response was so fast I could hardly believe it, but in an instant, she was in my arms, her mouth seeking mine and kissing me as if her life depended on it, which, maybe it did. The excitement in her eyes was undeniable, and she whimpered as I held her close, running my hands down her smooth body. "First things first, mother—go take a shower and clean that scumbag's cum from your vagina. Then you are to shave your pussy smooth and keep it that way always. And for the future, you might want to keep a supply of enemas handy; you never know when I might want to use your arse." She shivered with anticipation and left for the bathroom without hesitation. Perhaps I should describe my mother in a little more detail. Relatively tall, around 5'6" with a round, "soft" face and her blonde hair cut in a "pixie" style, together with blue/gray eyes and a full, "pouty" mouth. After her "regeneration", she had filled out a little, beautifully proportioned with full firm breasts with just a little sag, and tubular nipples that begged for attention. Her waist showed some thickness from age, now 40, and childbirth, but it flared to a mouth-watering bottom, firm but not too much so, pink/white and with a smooth roundness topping perfectly shaped legs and small feet. A truly delicious package. My mother returned from her shower with enough makeup to accentuate her best features even further, wrapped in her dressing gown. "Master, may I show you how grateful I am and how much I want to serve you?" "That sounds like a very good idea, mother, Show me just how much you will be prepared to submit to me." She knelt in front of me, unbuckling my belt and unzipping my jeans to pull out my already hard, excited cock. Her mouth worked sweetly around the head, licking it and endowing it with a liberal coating of saliva. She used her almost prehensile tongue on the soft, sensitive area just below the helmet and took the first inch or two into her mouth, sucking gently. All this was accompanied my murmurs and whispers of enthusiasm and longing in a wholehearted eagerness to pleasure me. This was more than I had expected, and her dedication to my gratification meant I would be unlikely to be able to hold off for long. "If you keep doing what you're doing, I shall cum very quickly, mother, and unless you're careful, I'll cum in your mouth." She stopped for just long enough to moan, "Please, Brett, please cum in my mouth. I so want to taste you and feel you fill my mouth with your spunk." I needed no more encouragement and my climax built quickly and urgently before, with a shout of release, I unloaded everything I had into her sucking, demanding mouth. My mother held me in her mouth until I wilted and shrank, then she licked me all over until I was completely clean. "Thank you, master, thank you for the gift of your seed. I belong to you, and I will do whatever you say." "Suzie," I said, using her name for the first time, "I need you to understand I have never been a Dom, although I've read enough sex fantasies to have an idea of how it works. But as well as that, I've fantasised about you for as long as I can remember, and I hated seeing how badly you were treated. I wanted to hold you, to caress you, to excite you, to make love with you and to hear you scream in release. I guess that makes me pretty perverted, but ..." "Brett, my dear, sweet, wonderful Brett, you have always been the only person I really cared about. As soon as you were born, I devoted myself to you, being the only way I could deal with the neglect and brutality I was subjected to. Yes, I got off on the nasty stuff, and I still do because I had become conditioned to it. But I ached for real love as well, and I've never been able to find it. Until now," she finished with a laugh. "Are you sure about this, mother? Seems like I'm getting the best of both worlds—a love affair full of hot, wet, steamy lovemaking and a sexy sub, willing to do anything for me." "Oh yes, Sir, there are no limits so far as I am concerned. I can be both your lover and your slut and your pleasure will always be my pleasure." It was only then that a special form of reality seeped through my sex addled brain. My mother would do literally anything I demanded; I had unlimited, unrestricted access to her body. But it wasn't the full story. "Mother, you have offered your body to me without any strings, for me to dominate you any way I choose. But there's more to it than that, isn't there? Tell me exactly what you want from our relationship, deep down where there is nowhere for you to hide." "Please understand, Brett, I belong to you in every sense and you may use me in any way you want—any way at all. That is what I most want, and in return, I will be at your service 24/7. I will also care for you as a mother should, cook for you, clean for you and keep house for you. Oh Brett, I need you, I want you—and I love you." "I understand that, mother, and I love you too. But I want to know why this is so important to you, and what makes you so ready to debase, humiliate and degrade yourself with your son?" "Brett, honey, this is so difficult for me, but I guess there are two threads coiled around me. First, I have this deep need to obey. From at least my late teens, I realised I was a natural submissive; I needed someone to control me in my personal life, but someone who I could trust. That part was supremely important to me, so I could feel safe and secure, be able to relax and let myself go and thoroughly enjoy the experience." "So I needed someone who would be able to control and regulate my experience of being dominated, but in ways where I knew I would ultimately be safe. But I have never been able to find such a person. The trust, safety and security have all been missing. Now you have offered to be my master, my son who I trust absolutely and who I know will keep me safe." "The second thread is a need to feel loved. Neither my father, your father nor Reg ever felt that way about me, and I poured all my love into you when you were young. Now you are offering to return it to me, even though we both know this is something society condemns. Brett, I have this desperate need to belong to you, body, heart and soul, and there are no limits to what I will do for you. Why are you so surprised then that, in your words, I should want to 'debase, humiliate and degrade' myself?" "Mmm, well, mother, I do have some limits. Firstly, you must have a safe word so if anything I do becomes intolerable, you can use it and I will stop. That word is 'turnip'; do not forget it. Secondly, I don't do animals, I don't do shit, I don't do under-age sex, I don't do punishments that will cause lasting harm and I don't do piercing, although a little tattoo saying 'Property of Brett' might be fun. I do want to spank you and maybe bind you. I want to get a whole range of toys; vibrators, butt plugs and dildos, nipple clamps and other toys." "I may humiliate, punish or discipline you according to my needs and my preferences. On the other hand, I shall require you to dress as I see fit, and we will get you a wardrobe of slutty, revealing outfits, lingerie and heels. I may require you to have sex with women, and I shall call you 'slut', 'whore', 'bitch' or any other term that takes my fancy. Oh, and please don't call me 'master'; I don't think I've earned such a title. Stick with 'Sir' in future. Is all that clear, mother?" Her breathing had altered and was coming in short fast gasps, with her breasts heaving and flushing as if she was coming close to a climax. "Oh yes, Sir, yes, please treat me that way. It is what I've always dreamed of; call me slut, call me whore; it makes me feel naughty, it makes me feel nasty and it lets me know you own me, which I want so much." My mother looked at me through adoring eyes, having discovered the secret to her own satisfaction, and a way of providing satisfaction to someone she cared deeply about. More than that, I saw a woman who had re-found herself and who had finally found love. I wanted to test the strength of this devotion, and to see just how deep her desire for domination went. "Mother," I asked, "do you understand the difference between punishment and discipline?" She shook her head, but looked at me attentively. "Punishment happens when you have done something wrong, such as failing to obey an order. Discipline is simply to make certain you are obedient and attentive at all times. You will receive discipline regularly; in fact, I expect you to ask me for it, even beg for it. So expect regular discipline in addition to any punishment for misbehaviour." The adoration in her eyes seemed to deepen. "Oh god, Sir, yes, yes, please discipline me. I need to know what I can expect from you and to feel how you will make me your toy, your plaything." "Very well, mother, take the position over my lap with your delicious bouncy bottom ready to receive a spanking." She gasped with pleasure and moved into a perfect position. I started by simply stroking the velvety skin of her butt; she wriggled, almost as if to say, 'please don't tease me, I need to feel you spank me hard.' I started as I meant to continue. Hard slaps with my open hand slamming down from behind my head and bouncing off her resilient flesh. At first she just gasped, but after three on each cheek, she started to moan and later to scream as the pain, the heat and the redness grew. I eventually stopped, and told her, "Assume the slut position in front of me." That, in itself must have been uncomfortable, sitting upright on her knees, with her butt resting on the back of her legs, her legs spread to reveal her drooling pussy. Her eyes showed the evidence of tears, but they glowed with a satisfaction I hadn't really expected. In turn, it turned me on that my mother could get so hot from her son spanking her like that. "Brett, it was so humiliating knowing my own son had me across his lap, my son, the boy I gave birth too, spanking my bare bottom, causing such emotions and forcing me to accept his domination. But I need it so much; I need you to know I AM your toy, your pet, and you can treat me any way you choose. I needed to demonstrate I am yours to command." "That was the best spanking I have ever had. If this is how you will discipline me, I shall beg you for it day and night. The heat of your spanking spreads all through my body and it gets me so horny I can hardly think of anything other than your beautiful cock plundering my quivering cunt." "I see. Tell me what you are, mother." She groaned in her need and desperation. "I'm a slut who needs to be taken by her son. I'm a bitch who desperately wants to be used by the one man she lusts for. Please, master, use this degenerate whore for your own pleasure; knowing your pleasure will bring me all the happiness I need." I looked down at her, her face shining with pleasure and her body quivering with excitement. For the first time I realised I had taken a huge responsibility, balanced by the potential for ongoing pleasure for both of us in many and varied ways. My mother didn't need to be turned into a submissive slut, she was one already. But she did need to understand my needs as her master. "Stand, mother, and spread your legs." I demanded, admiring her beautifully proportioned breasts and the pink softness of her pussy. "Now turn round slowly so I can fully appreciate your luxurious bottom." She turned, taking her time, her bottom still glowing after her recent spanking. She displayed herself with a wanton enthusiasm that had my erection growing apace. On completion of the turn, I instructed her to stand between my knees, and then instructed her, "Present your tits to me." She groaned deep in her throat and sliding her hands under her breasts, held them out towards my watering mouth. Moving my head forward, I took one now engorged nipple into my mouth and licked around it; her groans changed into a continuing hum of delight, transmuted into a sharp scream as I bit firmly into the nipple. Her hands came round behind my head in an attempt to force more of her tit flesh into my mouth. I resisted but transferred my attention to the other breast, giving it the same treatment, and was rewarded with another deep, dissolute scream. "You will make your body available to me whenever I wish and be available to me any time of the day or night, with obvious limitations when I shall expect blowjobs. In the house, I expect you to wear light, filmy clothes with no bra or panties, and at least three inch heels—or sometimes without shoes at all; I've always thought you have lovely feet." "Ooh yes, Sir, that will be wonderful," and she giggled. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather see me naked all the time? My body's not too bad for a forty year old woman, and that way I can be instantly available to you." "Listen, you horny slut, a little covering adds some mystery and enchantment, firing my imagination about what's underneath." I realised then I had underestimated just how depraved she really was. And I guess such depravity had flowed through to me. "Get on your hands and knees, mother, crawl to me and kiss my feet." She did as I ordered, kissing my shoes with an eagerness I found slightly unexpected. "Just so there is no confusion about how things are going to be, mother, I'm going to fuck you—hard. I'm going to show you who's in charge, and you WILL do what I say. First, though, I want to get you warmed up and humiliate yourself. Go into my bedroom, prop yourself against the bed board and masturbate to orgasm. Two conditions, though, mother; as you frig yourself you will keep your eyes on mine for the whole time. Secondly, you will not cum until I give you permission. I need you to be fully aware of how humiliating it will be for a mother to masturbate on the order of her son, and for him to control her orgasm according to his pleasure. Understood?" She stared at me, speechlessly at first, but with a deep groan compounded from desire, submission and excitement. "Please," she whispered, "Please make me your slut. Please ... I will do whatever you say. Humiliate me, make me your sex slave— I want you so much." Her low, throaty voice almost became a growl. Without further words, she removed her gown to display her shapely, enticing body, went into my room and settled herself, her legs spread wide and her pussy already starting to leak its love juice. Wetting her right index finger, my mother stroked along her soft pink slit, alternating her stroking by inserting first one, then two, fingers into her now soaking cunt, and she started to hum with excitement. She continued to stare into my eyes and as her orgasm grew, she drove her fingers deep into her cunt, alternating with stroking and pinching her clit. The pressure was rising and her hums changed to moans. Her body shook with tension, writhing and squirming as her sexual excitement increased. My mother gasped and shook wordlessly, still looking deep into my eyes. She now shuddered with desire and a need to cum although her hand still moved over and into her pussy. "Please Sir, please let me cum, I can hardly stand this any more." "No, slut, the decision is mine, not yours. You do what I want, not what you want, and I want to see you consumed by the lust-driven excess you have created in yourself." "Oh Brett, god, don't keep me strung out like this, I need to cum so badly." My mother became obsessed by bringing herself to climax. She continued to look into my eyes, but her gaze was glassy and seemingly unfocussed. Her moans turned to a scream as the ecstasy built and her climax came ever nearer and I warned her, "You do not cum until I allow you to or you suffer unpleasant consequences." My mother gasped and sobbed as her body shuddered—her tits quivered in a most entrancing way and her legs trembled and shook. She gave an animal howl, her hand still working hard on her soaking and inflamed pussy with her inhibited orgasm seeming to take control of her whole body. The shuddering increased and her head thrashed from side to side. "P...please, S...S ...Sir, p... please, I b ... beg y ... you, please release me. I wi ... will d ... do any ... anything you w ... want, just please, l ... let me go," she seemed to pray to me. What Price My Mother? "Yes, mother, perhaps now is the time; cum for me NOW." She shook violently and screamed, an almost animal howl. Her body shuddered, then went rigid before she screamed again as her climax peaked. Then she sobbed loudly as she came down from this monumental orgasm. I allowed her a short time to recover, then said, "Excellent, mother, you have all the attributes of a submissive slut. Now, let's see if you fuck as well as you frig yourself. Get on your hands and knees while I fuck you like the bitch you are." She needed no further instruction, but knelt on the bed, her legs drawn up under her and her head on the pillow, her bottom projecting into the air, her pussy waiting, almost eagerly, to be impaled by my cock. And my cock, now like a steel bar, was impatient to plunder her depths, although I realised that, so soon after her huge orgasm, she probably wouldn't last long. I shucked off the remainder of my clothes and crawled up the bed, positioning myself with my cock just touching my mother's pussy lips, and stroked it up and down her shimmering slit. She squealed in excitement, trying to press herself backward onto me, but I had more torment for her first. I continued to stoke her drooling pussy, and pushed just the head into her entrance. She again tried to push back, begging me to, "Give me your cock, please, Sir, please take me and make me scream. I want you so much." I knew I wouldn't last long, either, and with one rapacious thrust, I skewered her quivering quim. Her answering screams were partly surprise, partly pain but mainly the thrill of a rigid cock plundering her needy cunt. I stroked in and out, long, slow shafting, burying myself as far as possible into the velvety depths of her love tunnel. My mother's screams turned to deep moans of desire, thrusting herself back onto me to gain the maximum penetration. I changed direction slightly, a new angle of attack moving over the front wall of her vagina, finding her G spot, and I also leaned over her back, pinching and twisting her nipples. Now concentrating on short staccato thrusts, I caused her moans to revert to screams as she approached the edge of sanity. "Please, please, please, fuck me, fuck me harder, make me cum, please, do me—oh godgodgodgod, fuckfucfuckfuck." She writhed and thrashed under me, a monumental orgasm gaining strength and about to tear her apart. I was responding in kind as my cock swelled and was grasped by my mother's clenching silky sheath. The force of my load built in my balls and exploded through my cock, deep into my mother's tunnel. That was enough to tip her over the edge and her every muscle went rigid. Even her breathing stopped for almost ten seconds. Her orgasm exploded within her like an elemental force and she screamed in pleasure. Violent spasms blossomed from her cunt throughout her body in a wave of overpowering sensation. Again and again she jerked beneath me, her vagina clenching at me fiercely as her pleasure boiled through her. We rolled apart and I propped on one elbow, watching her as her breathing slowed and she came down from the heights of her orgasm. She looked at me through hazy eyes and smiled with a warmth approaching adoration. "Now, Suzie, I have one further instruction for you. You are to ..." "Yes, oh yes," she forestalled me and slid down the bed, using her soft warm tongue to thoroughly clean my cock, adding a little extra excitement as she licked slowly around my balls. "Kiss me, mother," I demanded, and she returned, humming with joy and did as she was told, a hot, wet, open mouthed kiss which I returned in kind. We shared the taste of the remains of our combined juices and her tongue worked passionately in my mouth as I gently squeezed a rigid, engorged nipple. "I think we need a shower, Suzie; there should be just enough room for you to wash my back." "Ooh yes, and there's lots of other places for me to wash too," she giggled, and squealed as I gave her a satisfying slap across her wiggling bottom. The shower was long and hot and highly tactile, and only ended when we ran out of hot water. I particularly enjoyed soaping her curvy bottom and sweet pliable tits, and she showed her enjoyment too. I worked a hand up between her cheeks, and having her bend over, I also ran my tongue up around her arsehole rimming her and pushing just inside. This was greeted with squeals of delight and moans for more. "I'm definitely planning to use your arse, mother; I can hardly resist the temptation right now." "Oh Sir, I beg you, will you please take me slowly. That bastard, Reg used to like my arse, but he just thrust in and it hurt like fire. I beg you to ..." I was quick to reassure her. "Don't worry, Suzie, we need some time to prepare—some stretching exercises so you'll be ready for me when the time comes." "Ooh, thank you so much, Brett," and she rewarded me by bending and kissing my cock with slow burning enthusiasm. We dried each other off with thick, thirsty bath towels, stopping occasionally to kiss or caress a particularly enticing part of the other's body. As we finished, I said, "Now, I'm very hungry mother; put on a nice light dress and go make me something to eat." She obeyed without hesitation and with a spring in her step suggesting devotion and enthusiasm. She moved quickly, bending deliberately to provide a glorious picture of her deliciously curved butt under the soft, floaty fabric of her sundress. I couldn't resist, and slapped her hard across her cheeks, generating sweet screams of pain laced passion. Over time, we established a smooth, mutually advantageous living arrangement. My mother never lost her submissive needs and I gained great satisfaction from her willingness to do whatever I demanded, when I demanded it. I greatly enjoyed playing with her, to bring her to the edge of orgasm, allowing her to cum only after hearing the words I wanted to hear. To hear her humiliate herself by unashamedly begging me in the most graphic terms to fuck her arse, to spank her harder, to pinch and twist her tits, or just to take her and make her scream for release. We also enjoyed long, slow, sensual lovemaking, with plenty of foreplay to get her worked up into a noisy frenzy of lust. And I had helped myself to her soft, curvy arse after using plenty of lube and stretching her. First with one, then with two fingers and eventually with a tapered dildo. My mother went crazy during this exercise; terrified at first, she found the gentle introduction of my approach to anal sex both highly arousing and something that played on her need to be humiliated. Reminding her to relax her sphincter muscle, I entered her and thrust slowly all the way into her anal passage. My mother went wild. She pushed back, begging me for more and begging me to take her harder. When I told her to play with her clit, she exploded almost immediately with my cock gripped in her smooth, deliciously tight tunnel. Her legs were over my shoulders, and they drummed on my back as she thrashed and screamed in her ecstasy. That was infectious, and it brought me to my climax as I filled her arse with my spend. Mum also developed a rape fantasy which I was happy to help her indulge. A typical incident occurred one evening when I slipped out of the back door, put on a balaclava and rang the front door bell. Mum answered and I pushed my way in. "What are you doing ... what do you want?" she gasped. "You, bitch. You strut around flaunting your tits at me, almost begging to get fucked. Now it's going to happen." "No ... no, you can't, I won't let you," she screamed, lashing out at me. "You don't have any choice, whore. Now get your clothes off, or I'll rip them off you." She went for my face, fortunately protected by the balaclava, screaming abuse at me. I grabbed her wrists and twisted her arms up her back, limiting her defensive options. "Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way." "Go to hell, motherfucker." I appreciated the irony. "Yeah, bitch—I'd love to fuck my mother; she's got the most gorgeous tits, and looks at least ten years younger than her age." "Bullshit." "Okay, tart, you asked for it," and grabbing her tee, I ripped it up the front, then tore it down her arms. She continued to scream abuse until I spun her round and undid the clasp on her bra. It fell off, revealing her "gorgeous tits", their nipples already hard with anticipation. "Well, looky here—something's really turning you on," and I pinched her nipples hard, twisting and pulling them for maximum effect. I could see she found it almost impossible to keep up her pretend resistance, and I pulled her into my arms, kissing her hard. She continued a half-hearted struggle, but I trickled my fingers into her ears and stroked down behind them to her neck. That was enough, and she returned my kiss, warm, wet and insistent. "Take me, Brett, take me hard, please, Sir, you've got me so hot I can only think of your big hard cock drilling into me and making me explode, seeing all the colours of the rainbow while I orgasm. I tore off my clothes in double quick time as my mother removed her jeans and panties. "How do you want me, Sir?" "On your back, mother, spread your legs wide and hold your ankles as close to your ears as they will go." She obeyed with a moan of excitement and I saw her pink, shaved pussy starting to ooze love juice, the lips opening, waiting to be plundered. I deferred her pleasure momentarily by kneeling between her legs and licking gently at first, then more firmly from her perineum upwards, lingering briefly at her clit. She screamed in pleasure, begging me, "Please, Sir, don't tease me too much, I want you in me so bad." "Patience, you horny slut, I'm going to get you even more heated up, so when I slip into your eager cunt, I'll get the full benefit of your heat and you'll get all the cock you're going crazy for." I nibbled at her engorged clit and she moaned, making incoherent sounds of pleasure and lust. Then I moved forward and lodged my cock at the entrance to her cunt. "Tell me, slut, what do you want?" "Aargh, oh god, just fuck me, please, please just fuck me hard, make me scream, I need it so much, I ..." Her words were cut short by a scream as I thrust the full length of my cock into her thoroughly lubricated pussy. This was no time for finesse. I plunged in forcefully, keeping up a fierce pace, knowing that, at times like this, she needed it hard and fast; and so did I. I pinched her tits, pulling and twisting her nipples, adding to the screams. The thought flashed through my mind, 'I'm raping my mother' but any guilt was washed away by her pleas for more. "Oh god, oh god, oh god; fuck me, Brett, fuck me. Take me as hard as you can. Make me cum. Make me wash your cock with my juices. Make me ... aargh." Neither of us wanted a long, slow love-making, and our climaxes rose fast. Mother's cunt muscles gripped and massaged me as I thrust in and out and her screams rose in a crescendo. I could feel my cum boiling in my balls, ready to blast into her sucking cunt, and we reached orgasm together with howls and screams of delight. "That'll teach you to flaunt your tits at me, bitch. Do it again and you'll get the same treatment." "Oh thank you, Sir; is that a promise?" And then our world lurched again. Mum and I had been out shopping for some filmy lingerie and new revealing dresses for her; she excused this on the grounds that she wanted to display herself to me in sensual and revealing outfits. We'd barely been home ten minutes when there was a persistent banging on the front door. Puzzled, I walked towards it, then froze in anger. "Open this fucking door or I'll fucking break it down." Unmistakeably the voice of Reg Rainbird. "Mum, go into the lounge and if he gets in, ring the cops. Listen, and I'll give you a signal." Her eyes were wide with fear but she dashed to the lounge and slammed the door. The thumping on the front door continued, and I opened it cautiously. He stood there, enveloped in a mixture of body odour, bad breath and alcohol fumes. But this wasn't the Reg from twelve months ago. He looked to have collapsed in on himself, his face was blotchy and sunken, his body more frail, his eyes bloodshot and almost closed. He shoved at the door. "Let me in, you son of a bitch—and ain't that the truth," he spluttered. "I want my woman back and I'm taking her with me now." "Got the $25,000 I paid, have you, Reg?" but my sarcasm made no impact. "If she doesn't come out here, I'm coming in to get her." I wasn't surprised when he pulled a large, ugly looking knife, and I yelled "NOW" at the top of my voice. Reg gave another shove, and, catching me a little off balance, he stumbled into the hallway, waving the knife. In turn, I grabbed a marble statue of a naked woman from the hall stand (mum had insisted it looked just like her and it had become one of our "in jokes") and using all my strength, I smashed it down on Reg's forearm. There was a satisfying crack and an even more satisfying scream from Reg as he dropped his knife. "You dead cunt," he screamed, "you've broken my fucking arm." I kicked the knife away. "Okay, Reg; still want to take me on?" He backed away, stumbling for the door and groaning in pain when I heard a beautiful sound. Police sirens getting rapidly closer. "Bastards," he yelled, "I'll make you pay for this." He tried to open the door the wrong way and cannoned his injured arm into the door jamb. His scream was even louder this time, and was answered by a reassuring knock from two large cops wanting to know what was going on. I told them the story, pointing out the knife on the floor while Reg enriched my vocabulary of profanity. However, when I told them his name, the police officers looked unexpectedly interested. "Reg Rainbird?" said the more senior officer. "Well, well, well; we've been looking for you for a while, Reg. Get the ambulance, Joe," he said to his partner. "Well get him to hospital under guard and have a little chat with him later." Mum had come out of the lounge; she looked white and shaken and explained her relationship with Reg. "Thank you, Mrs Rainbird," the senior officer started, but mum jumped in quickly. "No, I never want to be known by that name again. Now I'm Ms McIntyre, my maiden name," and the police officer apologised. "Apologies, Ms McIntyre; we'll need you and your son to make formal statements, and you'll also need to appear as witnesses when the case comes to court." We acknowledged this, an ambulance arrived and Reg was escorted away, still venting his feelings about mum and me. I turned to mum who was still shaking and took her in my arms. "He's gone, mum, and if there is any justice he'll go down for a long stretch. I don't think we'll be bothered by him again." She looked at me, the fear gradually draining out of her eyes. "Please, Brett, please take me to bed and just hold me. Keep me secure from all the demons that came back into my mind. I know I'm safe in your arms." We did just that; my mother slept snuggled close to me finding sanctuary in my arms, making soft little contented noises. The finale to this saga was bizarre and brutal. A few days later, we had another visit from the same police patrol. "Mr Bowman, Ms McIntyre, I have to tell you that Reg Rainbird has died in the remand centre. I don't know how to put this gently, but he was murdered by other inmates and we suspect it was a contract killing." "Thank you for telling us," I responded, "but I hope you won't think us too callous if we don't break down and cry over his loss." The officer smiled, and as I escorted him out, I asked, "Just so I know, can you tell me how it happened?" "Not nice. Apparently, he had a piece of rag stuffed in his mouth, and we think four other people grabbed him and smashed his head into a brick wall, more than once. It crushed his skull. No-one else saw it, or is prepared to admit to having done so, and the security cameras were inconclusive." I decided not to give mum the gory details, and she didn't want to know. "Honey, please don't think badly of me," she said, "and I wouldn't wish anyone dead, but I have to admit I am relieved he's out of our lives forever." "Mum, seeing what that bastard did to you, you wouldn't be normal if you thought any other way." A warm, wet and very passionate kiss told me she could come to terms with what had happened. We went out to dinner later as a form of "celebration"; release might be more appropriate. My mother looked stunning; she dressed in a figure hugging gown in a rich deep green silk jersey. It had a rolled halter neck but completely bare shoulders. Cut just a fraction above knee height, it gave her the opportunity to show off her gorgeous legs. Three inch heels and seamed stockings completed the ensemble with her makeup striking but not overdone. It was all I could do to keep my hands off her; she knew it and revelled in my close attention. Dinner was great success, and mum had a glass or two of champagne, which made her mellow and giggly. As soon as we got home, she turned to me, saying, "Please, my gorgeous son, take me to bed and love me." "You are a dreadful woman, trying to seduce her innocent son into sexual excesses." "Yes," she purred, "and I feel no shame about doing just that." We headed for the bedroom and she jumped into my arms, kissing me and making highly suggestive comments about what we should do next. "Okay, mother, strip for me, slowly, then bend over the back of the chair so I can give your unprotected bottom some appropriate treatment for making sexual advances to your son." Her striptease was an incitement to riot as she teased me, removing the dress as if it was a second skin. She stood for a minute, trembling with barely suppressed desire and watching me through half-closed, smoky eyes. "Please Sir, please spank me until I scream and the heat runs riot through my pussy and makes me ready for your beautiful cock." I knew exactly what dose would bring about the expected result, and spanking hard over her sweet, curvy cheeks, the red flush was matched by her squeals and screams. Her wriggling and moaning told me when we'd reached the right temperature and I pulled her up and into my arms. "Well, mother, what do you have to say for yourself?" Her voice was deep and needy. "Please Sir, please Brett, just fuck me. Make me cum, for you. Make me cum all over your cock. Make me your sex slave—just take me, now." Being more than happy to oblige, I ordered my mother to straddle me and ride me to orgasm. She laughed with delight and desire and as I fell onto my back, she jumped onto the bed beside me and threw one leg across me, poised over the tip of my rigid, throbbing tool. "Like this, sweetheart?" she queried, mischievously, and I could barely get out a strangled "Yes" before she slid me into her hot, quivering love tunnel and forced herself down, impaling her body on my eager weapon. I thrust up into her as she pushed down, then she changed to slide backwards and forwards and rotating her hips for maximum penetration and pleasure. She rode me hard, exciting both of us, and bent forward, her swinging tits brushing against my chest. Her words became jumbled, with the sounds seeming to come directly from her pulsating cunt, and we both convulsed and shook with the almost overwhelming ecstasy of our forbidden, incestuous mating. I revelled in her screams and moans of pleasure, and she clung to me, her nails digging into my shoulders and her body seeming to want to meld into mine. The pressure rose for both of us. I grabbed her hips and pulled her down onto me, forcefully, trying to get as much of myself into her as I could. She kissed me hard, then bit my bottom lip, her passion now nearly out of control. Then her control broke and she threw herself upright, giving an ululating wail of release as her orgasm overwhelmed her. All my resistance had faded, too and I howled in triumph as my cum flooded through me and into my mother, offering her my essence that she welcomed with every fibre of her being.