TABOO TALES(erotica)

“No, Mother,” Matt said, “there’s only a couple more details on the form. Can you see the paper okay?” She was still leaning on he counter. He pushed her closer to the form by pressing on her back till her breasts touched the counter, which looked like a perfectly normal position. She gasped as the rough sandpaper crushed her poor nipples. Mrs. Pauley looked even more concerned but Janice, grimacing, said, “Let’s just finish, Mrs. Pauley.”

Mrs. Pauley checked off the last item and thanked them as Matt’s fingers exited his slave mother’s ass. Her body relaxed and she raised her chest off the counter. “Th-thanks, Mrs. Pauley.” They headed toward the door, Janis grateful for the long skirt so Mrs. Pauley couldn’t see the streaks of cunt juice on her inner thighs descending almost to her knees.

“My pleasure, Janis. Feel better. It’s so wonderful to see Matt helping when you don’t feel well.”

“Yes, he knows exactly how to handle me,” Janice said ruefully.

Matt smiled as they left and said to Mrs. Pauley, “It’s nothing that any loving son wouldn’t do.”

* * *Belonging © NôvelDram/a.Org.

During these weeks, Matt also bound his pain-slut more frequently. Sometimes the postures would result in sex, sometimes not, as when they would watch TV in the den with her tied on the floor in front of him, her head, shoulders and knees on the carpet, hands tied to her ankles with red rope.

Other times he would bind her to the wrought iron footboard of his bed. She considered it a privilege to be in the inner sanctum of his bedroom, the place where he’d inflicted so much of her initial servitude. The bed’s ironwork had a swirling floral pattern, so it was easy to tie her to different parts.

Some evenings he ordered her to kneel on the bed and would tie her facing the television, suspended from the ceiling a foot from the end of the bed. He always bound at least her waist and breasts to the iron. That way he could flog or crop her back, ass and rear thighs while she watched an S/M DVD.

A variation was to have her kneel on the bed at the foot but facing the head. Matt would pull her legs through the iron and fasten them. Then he would tie her arms, waist and/or shoulders to the footboard. Now he could have access to her entire front. Frequently he would position her leaning forward, arms stretched behind, so her heavy breasts would be even more prominent for slapping, clamping and caning.

For other sessions, he would make her kneel on a stool positioned at the foot of the bed and force her breasts through the iron rail, tying them off. Thus facing the bed, he could tease and whip her breasts as he watched a porno on the screen.

Over these weeks, it became clear to Janice that Matt was preoccupied with something. Eventually, she realized he must be planning another session, in all probability a major one. She conjectured whether she’d be forced into a scene with both her sister Darielle and Darielle’s son Alex together, and whether Janice’s lust for Matt might be a family trait shared by Darielle’s longing for Alex? Or would Matt order Janice to fuck Alex while Matt did Darielle? However, Janice’s musings about Darielle and Alex were way off the mark.

She also was curious: Would Matthew introduce her to any new implements? She hoped he would not pierce her nipples or clit, or force her to wear rings through them. The idea turned her off, as did tattoos or branding her mound or ass.

A few nights later, after dinner, Janice was changing into the new skirt and blouse Matt had told her to wear when the doorbell rang. Several minutes later, she was standing nervously in the kitchen when Matt appeared. “Like I told you, Mr. Wheland, the admissions advisor for our area, has arrived from my college. There’s a problem with my admission and he needs to speak with us.”

She felt the beginnings of panic. “But Matt, I can’t meet a stranger dressed like this, especially not your college advisor.” She became flushed, recalling the stern old Headmaster and magnetic priest.

“Let’s see: You’ve already been naked in front of your own nephew. Not to mention how you sucked him off. Then he watched you get those big tits into bondage and let him whip you while we both fucked you. So I hardly think it’s a big deal for Mr. Wheland to meet you when you’re wearing a skirt and blouse. Besides, Mr. Wheland and I have had. . . a frank discussion.

She hung her head, trying to control the rush of sex heat running through her as she listened to the description of her disgusting behavior in the kitchen with Alex. “Did you show him any photographs?” she asked indignantly.

“As a matter of fact, yes. . . I did. . . all of them.” She felt helpless as a surge of excitement shot up from her groin. “Don’t worry, Mr. Wheland is an experienced and discerning man, a connoisseur of. . . specialized photography.”

Sensing how tense she felt, he took her hand and led her into the den. Mr. Wheland was pacing impatiently by the fireplace. The older man, about sixty, was well dressed in a traditional style: a navy blazer, tan slacks and loafers. He was tall and lean with a stern face, which didn’t look as if it laughed often. She could see the same cruelty and control in his eyes that she witnessed in Father Hood’s, who could see through her as being a cock-hungry, natural submissive. She wondered if Mr. Wheland could do the same.

“Ah, there you are, Janice.” He took her hand firmly, but instead of shaking it, he turned her around. “You look lovely in that blouse and short skirt.”

“Oh! Why, thank you,” she replied, blushing.

Satisfied, he sat in the chair, the chair she would always remember as the one where Matt had first whipped her breasts, made her suck his cock and swallow his cum. “Janice, serve us drinks, including one for yourself. Make them doubles.” Janice noticed he had not waited for her as host to make the offer of drinks. Nor did he say please. He had taken control, instantly and naturally. “I’ll have a double scotch on the rocks.”

“Yes, sir.” She made his drink, plus a double vodka rocks for Matt and a triple white Russian for herself. She served the drinks, so nervous she swallowed a third of hers in a single gulp.

“Sit,” he said.

She went to sit next to Matt on the sofa, but Wheland said, “No, sit on the coffee table facing me. And Matthew, sit in the chair next to me so we can both see your mother.” She thought his command to sit on the table was a bit odd and rather forward but did so. “Your mother is indeed lovely, Matthew,” he said, his eyes unabashedly roaming her body.

“Janice, your son has already answered a series of questions about what a . . . cooperative woman and mother you are. Answered in detail . . . For example, I know what a talented cook you are, and what . . . unusual ideas you have about . . . creative uses for foods.” Her head snapped toward Matt, eyes wide in alarm, but his face was blank. To cover her embarrassment, she had more of her drink. “Are you aware that Matthew’s record gave him no chance of gaining entrance to our college?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” she said, feeling as though she, as a single mother, was at least partly to blame.

“But Matthew has other qualities. You might say the whole equals more than the sum of the parts. I alone have the authority to grant or deny his admission, which all depends on this meeting tonight.” Very apprehensive, Janice finished the remainder of her cocktail. Matt stood and made her a second drink. “Our college believes that one of the essential ingredients in good students is active, willing participation from their parents. Do you agree with that educational concept?”

“Why, yes, I do, absolutely.” Janice took another swallow from the second glass.

“Good. Because if we are assured that Matthew’s mother is willing to do what it takes, then I can assure you he will have the best possible education and possibilities for whatever path he chooses after college.” He paused. “Is that correct?” He sat on the edge of the ottoman, close to her, and leaned forward, taking her chin and raising it until their eyes locked. “I asked you a question and am waiting for a reply.” She glanced at Matt, who stared back at her, stone-faced. As the saying goes, the air was thick with tension. She nodded, grateful to be feeling a major buzz from the alcohol. She drank again.

“Of course you can,” Wheland replied approvingly. “First of all, I’m not a stranger, since Matthew and I have met before and since I’m a guest in the privacy of your own home. Secondly, your willfulness is your first infraction. Third, you were most obedient with your own sister and nephew. Fourth, we all know that this is the next step in your training, learning obedience from experienced older men.” She was too humiliated to respond. “And we all know that deep down, you crave more punishment, more discipline to compensate for your shameful feelings of being a neglectful, inadequate mother. Don’t we?”

Janice nodded slightly, incredulous that this domineering man was saying such degrading things to her “You deserve to pay the price for being a bad mother. For example, you were late mailing Matthew’s letter to me, weren’t you?” She nodded again. “Its lateness caused extra work for me and for my admin.”

“Would you like to know tonight’s agenda?” She nodded. “For the first half, we’ll strip and clamp your wet clit and luscious tits. Then I’ll insert an anal plug into your ass for stretching. “During the first half, you’ll be DP’d. Do you know what that means, Janice?” She shook her head. “Double penetration, which I think will be a very exciting experience for a submissive of your appetites. You’ll blow your son on your knees while I fuck your cunt from behind. That should be nothing new or special to you, considering the scene you had with Matthew and your nephew.” She turned to look at him, deeply degraded that he would verbally announce such an explicit agenda to her, like a waiter reciting a menu.