Perchance to Dom (mom/son incest, dom/sub, SLOW)


Active member
Elite Member
Mar 2, 2021
Perchance to Dom
by DiscipleN

I've lived more than 18 years. During them, I've read my share of raunchy stories. I don't believe any of them, especially this one. I like the ones about submissive mothers and young sons who break out of their comfort zones and learn to take control.

Nobody does that, though. I mean, sure a mother is fucking her son, right now, somewhere in the real world, and maybe he pressed to do so, but no one has ever lived the insanity my mother and I created from our Yin and Yang dance. And if something similar has occurred, no one has found the intensity of joy that we have.

It started with my father and my mother's father. Both were stern men. Of the two, only my father enjoyed my mother's deep embrace. Grandpa never hugged anyone, but he could wallop my mother's backside with the lust of demons. That thin, elderly copy machine technician looked and acted like a polite breeze, in public. In private, he had gone through six wives. Most divorced him. The last died. They said 'of the vapors', but did you know that severe trauma to flesh can lead to cancer? It's rare, but mother's step-mother was given a superior chance.

I love my grandpa. He's quiet and gives me presents when he visits. He doesn't talk much to me, no lectures at least. I'm thankful. When he's around, he spends most of his attention watching my mother. In his presence, Mother acts brighter, forthright, directed, no non-sense. She doesn't show him the slightest weakness.

My father knew better. He and Grandpa were discussing the house computer network that day. "I'd rather drill a hole than buy a wifi repeater. This house already had too many gadgets."

"But a cable will look terrible no matter how you string it."

Mother walked in with a pair of beers to back up the nearly empty ones Dad and Gramps sip while they chatted. She picked up the empties, turned smoothly, and tripped over something, I didn't see what, I was in the dinning room listening with one ear and playing the new tablet game Gramps had gifted. I did turn in time to see my mother collapse in slow motion with four bottles in her fingers. She managed to roll down on her side instead of smack the floor, but one glass vessel slipped free and crashed upon perfectly maintained hardwood.

"Lisa, you clumsy imp!" Grandpa burst and leaped to his feet."

"Anthony, this is my house." Father spoke calmly.

Grandpa Tony looked left and right, at my mother and my father. He took a breath and let it out.

"I'm driving home now." He said simply. He left then.

"Lisa, did your father trip you on purpose?"

"No, Ed, he didn't." She picked her self up and wiped up the broken bottle. Around her father, she kept a hand towel tucked in her skirt. He liked to spill things.

"Let's talk in the master." Father called their bedroom, the master." He walked out of the living room and down the hall, expecting his wife to follow.

She threw the glass pieces into the trash, dropped the towel in the sink, and still managed to keep three paces behind her husband.

"Walter, don't touch that towel. I'll wash the shards out of it when your father's finished with me."

They entered their bedroom and locked the door. Except for the small accident, it was a typical day in the Nelson family. Except I couldn't resist. I crept down the carpeted hall with all the stealth I had learned from computer games. Putting my ear to the door opened a new world to me.

"Bite the gag harder, wench!" If our boy hears one peep out of you, I'll drive him to a whore house, pay the madam to keep him for the night, and manhandle you until noon."

Father paused. "This is for letting your father get the better of you."

I didn't hear anything.

"This is for soiling the living room."

Was that the crack of electricity?

"This is for acting like a fool!" Father whispered intensely.

Their bed's posts squealed over the hardwood in that room, as if a body shifted upon it suddenly and hard.

"Do you need to breath?"

Another, longer pause.

"Bite." Father counted to five. "This is for lying to me."

I didn't want to hear anything. I slunk back as he said it. I'd been conditioned to respect the privacy of that room with the threat of having my groin cut to match a Ken doll.

The lights in the house dimmed for two of my heartbeats.

Mother greeted me thirty minutes later. "Is that game any good?" Her skin was flush red.

"Yeah, Mom, kinda." I felt sweat ooze out of my forehead. My armpits must have smelled like a sewer. I feared the next second. Father would step in and accuse me of listening.

She went to the sink. She took the towel outside and shook it in the alley. Then she put it in the washing machine, the only item in it. I heard it rev up. That's when Father reappeared from the hall.

"I'm going to the electronics store."

Dad would have allowed me to join him. I thought about it. Electronics were my favorite toys. Dad was a giving man, often letting me pick out something, as long as it showed respect for his pocketbook.

"I want to beat Grandpa's score on the leader board."

It was the first time I saw my father grin. "I've been trying since the day I met your mother." He exited.


"Don't ask me. Your father's probably just in a good mood."

It took longer than I imagined. It was several years before I won the top slot from Grandpa. But that day started it. That was the first time I felt desire for my mother.

The second time was a long time coming. Well before then, I decided to have a girlfriend, like a policeman decides to have a donut.

I stood in the schoolyard and watched. Something inside me knew how to pick the right girl. It wasn't about tall or short, fat or skinny, light skin or dark skin, a pretty face or a not ugly face. It had to do with posture. A weak person has terrible posture. A strong person has a posture not worth noting. I was looking for good posture carefully maintained. I was looking for the girl who would eventually put on makeup to go to 7/11. I wanted a girl with chutzpa but lacking strong confidence. Cheryl would be my girl.

I saw her walk up to a boy playing with a baseball bat. She told him to find another girl. "If you ever talk to Larissa outside of class, I'll let her father know who gave her that black eye."

The boy lifted his bat angrily, but Cheryl only smiled and walked away. I didn't see her face after she turned, but her posture slipped for just a second and then it was perfect. I got a hard on watching that.

"Hello, Cheryl."

"Do I know you?"

"We had a class together last year. I'm Walter Nelson."

"What do you want?"

"Something I'm going to have to earn from you."

She tipped one step back before stepping closer. She said in my face, "I have no time for little boys with riddles."

I attempted to look into her soul. "I'll show you how big I can be."

"Creep." She stepped past me and didn't look back.

Days of defeat followed. I turned out to be a stalker, not what I would someday call being a dom.

"Creep!" Cheryl shouted when I told her I'd walk her home.

"Creep!" Cheryl screamed when I simply walked up to her, staring into her eyes.

I needed experience.

"Mother, how did you and Father meet?"

She coughed. "Well, that was years before you were born."

"How old were you?"

"Not old enough, but I had plenty of experience."

"You dated?"

"Not exactly. Your father discovered my situation and found a place for himself in it."

"Um, you're not going into details. What the father does, so could the son."

"No time, Walter. I'm busy with my work." She turned her attention to source code from another developer.

"Yes, but you like being interrupted when your code is compiling."

"Walter, you have my genes as well as your father's. You'll never be like him."

Her compiler finished. It hadn't found any flaws in her code.

A day later, I tried pressing reset. "Cheryl, please accept my apology. I've acted very foolishly, creepily even."

For a second, light danced in her eyes.

"Fine. Whatever."

I left before she could. I had nothing to work with, except searching something.

"Larissa, I'll do your homework, if you will tell me what you like best about Cheryl." I had to ask several baseball boys before I found the one Larissa dumped. I found her sitting in the library, texting on her phone. Her back was slumped crookedly in the chair.

"I heard you were creeping her out. No way!"

"That's in the past. Ask her."

Her eyes shifted away. "Oh. What's your name?"


"I don't need your help with my homework, but you should know that Cheryl is the best friend a person could have."

"You spend a lot of time together?"

"I guess."

"What do you like to do?"

"I like shopping at the mall."

"Do you buy lots of clothes?"

"I can't. I don't get much allowance."

"But Cheryl can? Does she have a part time job?"

"Cheryl doesn't buy clothes, not many I mean. She buy's toys for her nieces and nephews."

I finally got my break.

"Yeah, she works at car dealership, washing cars."

"Your clothes look very nice." I smiled.

"Um, thanks." She hunched down slightly more.

"Thank you, Larissa. Have a nice day." I turned.

"Don't you want to know which dealership?"

"I'm not a stalker." I strode away.

The next time the weather turned stormy, I asked Cheryl if her employer was looking for extra help.

Cheryl wasn't the only girl working in the service department. One very sexy, divorced woman cussed right alongside her fellow mechanics. The elderly woman had been working there for decades, handling customers with their automotive problems.

Our boss seemed to treat Cheryl decently. She might have had him wrapped around her finger, but it wasn't visible. I noticed that I had to wash the muddy, jacked up 4 wheel drives. I was taller than Cheryl and more suspicious. That didn't really matter much. I worked my butt off.

The money was nice, but the first time Cheryl opened herself up to me proved more valuable.

"Can you believe that? Gina was shut in the tool bank for ten minutes with Jake."

"Is that important?"

"Just what do you think they did in there?"

"Fuck around, probably. But probably not fucking."

She took a minute to parse my retort, or she was struck speechless.

"Gee, you really are a creep."

"And just what would you do in there, with me, for ten minutes?"

Did I see her cheeks redden slightly?

"It too bad for you, that you'll never find out."

"That's not what's important."

"Okay, big guy, what would be important?"

"If Gina actually felt something for Jake."

"Well, she doesn't. She's just another slut." Cheryl had never shown her inner bitterness to me.

I let the conversation go. There were still cars to wash that day.

"Mom, what's a slut?"

"Are you really asking that? You must have heard that word for years, at school or-" Mom stopped mid-sentence. "Did something happen at your job?"

"Nothing that doesn't happen every now and then, there."

"Spill it, Walter. Don't start with the mystery theater."

"Yeah, well Cheryl told me the woman mechanic was a slut for being alone with a guy at work."

"Walter, we taught you sexual matters are private. Talking about them makes you look silly."

"I know. But I wasn't asking if that woman is a slut. I want to know what Cheryl meant by it."

"That's known as slut shaming. It has to do with upper class people demeaning lower class people. And here I was thinking that your friend had, until now, sounded like a decent sort."

"She is, Mom. I'm sure. It seemed more like a personal bugbear."

"That is also none of your business."

Dad came home with the bacon, right then. We spent a nice evening together.

The next afternoon I spoke with Cheryl's bugbear. "Excuse me, Gina?"

"Yes? Oh, it's you, Walter. What can I do for you?"

"Is this a good time to talk?"

"Maybe, if you have something important."

"It's pretty important, but it's entirely none of my business."

"That's the best kind of important. Do you want to talk somewhere that's quiet?"

I considered it. It was hard not to go with this sexy, grease spattered slut in overalls, into an empty office booth.

"This is quick enough. Would you help me to convince Cheryl to date me?"

"If you were five years older, I'd slap your face. You don't know how many creeps have tried that line on me. 'Pretend with me for a little while, to make her jealous.'"

"Wow, I wasn't going to- Wait. Why creeps want to pretend with someone as attractive as you?"

"You're so sweet. I could gobble you up!" She reached out to me halfway.

I wasn't going to last another minute with her, before losing my reserve. "Gina, I was just going to ask if you would talk to her about premarital sex."

Gina's fawning died like a fawn shot with buckshot. "The hell you say?"

"Okay, maybe I should have-"

"What you should do is, get back to those dirty cars." She grabbed the biggest tool near her and walked away. Her posture wasn't worth noticing.

A couple days later. Cheryl gave me the funniest look.

"Mom, I'm thinking of asking Cheryl out."

"That's nice."

"I don't think I want to have sex with her, right away."

"Good luck with th- I mean, use a condom when you do. Use two if you're easily excited."

'Thank's for the advice, Mom."

Dad interjected a minute later. "Lisa I need to spend some time with you in the master."

"I'll be right there, sweetheart."

It was a Thursday when I asked Cheryl out, our slowest day. "Would you like to grab a bite before going home?"

"Took you long enough to ask." She smiled.

"I wanted to prepare, properly."

"Will this be a suit and tie affair?"

"Chile dog and a root beer?"

"Eew! I mean, sure, as long as you're buying."

"The pushcart guy has polish sausage too."

"Variety flatters a girl like flower gardens."

She ordered a bag of chips, and a root beer. We walked in the direction of her home.

"You live in a nice place?"

"Nice enough. Someone tried to break in a few years ago, but that was the only time.

"What are your mom and dad like?"

"My step-mom is nice. Dad's a little weird. Tell me about yours."

"Mom works on open source software. Dad's a master electrician."

"Nerds squared?" She didn't mean to be mean.

"Sorta. When they're working, they're nerdy enough. But they do other things when a day's work is done."

"Like what?"

"What do your parents do."

"Squabble. Walk the dog. Argue about finances. We take trips sometimes, but we've only gone overseas once, to the Cayman isles."

"My mom and dad spend most of their time in the master bedroom."

She dropped a chip.

"Hey, I paid for that." I neither grinned, nor was I really upset.

"Well, excuse me, Mr. Moneybags of a creep. You can go home now, back to your creepy parents." Again there was bitterness.

I stopped walking and watched her head home. I felt a grin deep inside me.

"Dad, what kind of dates did you have with mom?"

"Sexy dates." He didn't smile. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"No. I'm sure you did have sexy dates. What else?"

"Your mother insisted on bringing her father to chaperone our first dates."

"You were so boring, back then, I needed someone to keep me awake!" Mom shouted from the kitchen.

"Did Grandpa not like you?"

"Well enough, after a fashion."

"Father adored you, Sweetheart." Mom leaned into the living room. "He said you were his best pupil."

"Why are you telling me that, now, and in front of our impressionable child?"

"He asked."

The next day, I studied Cheryl at work, her arm motion, her posture, her intensity. She squirted me with the hose.

I walked over to the spigot and turned it off. "That was my last car to wash. You've got two more. You can use my wet rags and soap bucket but no more with the hose."

Cheryl took my challenge, my bait. She harrumphed mightily and finished scrubbing with what water was in our buckets. I turned the hose back on and rinsed the cars. We wiped them dry together.

"Do you like sushi?"

"I love sushi! I adore it, if you're buying."

"You'll enjoy it more if you pay your share."

"You have a lousy way with women."

"Is that a step up from creep?"

"Not necessarily."

The sushi was cheap and not great, but it was the best time I'd had with her, yet. We talked about classmates and homework and our ideal futures. We talked about challenges ahead. I had to ruin it. My curiosity sank me into an ocean of creepiness.

"Have you ever heard your parents making love?"

"Ooooo, I'm so through with you!" She stood up, pulled cash from her pants and threw it on the table. She overpaid by $3.17 and left.

This time I chased after her. "Cheryl! Sex isn't suppose to hurt your soul. Why are you hurting?"

She stopped. There were other people around. She turned to me, face blistering with hate. "I hate-"

"NO!" I interrupted. "You don't. You feel something good for me. Get off the sidewalk with me, over there. We can talk."

"She was crying, but she followed me.

"Look, you're no blushing idiot. You've seen things, learned things. But they haven't been good to you. Maybe some have."

"Some have." She agreed, wiping her eyes. More tears followed. "I can't tell you."

"Then tell the grass, it'll appreciate your tears as much as I do."

She spoke between sniffs. "My father cheats on my step-mom. She, she sometimes takes it out on me."

"Why would she do that? You said she was nice."

"Oh, she's REAL nice afterwards. She feels so guilty, she treats me like a queen. She doesn't want to hurt me, but we both know. I'm sure my dad knows."

"Why hasn't he-?"

"Because that fucking bitch slut has him pussy whipped!"

"I believe you. This next thing is the most important one. You are entirely not at fault."

"Sure. I want to believe that."

"I can make you."

She looked at me.

"No you can't." Anger flared in her.

"I can, if you do one difficult thing."


"Let me take charge of you. Let me take the blame. I'm sure you parents are heaping it on you, in ways you don't realize. I can take it, because what's going on between your step mom and your father and his slut doesn't mean shit to me."

"H-how is that even possible? You're just saying words."

"Give me a chance, and I'll prove it."

"I'll think about it."

I hoped that would be the last time she thought for herself, while she knew me.

I quit the job. Gina actually made a pass at me, the last day. Damn her! Maybe it was my imagination. I waited. Cheryl thought about my offer for three days.

"Walt." Cheryl took my hand. "I'll give you one chance."

"Okay." I took a deep breath. I could do this. "Don't call me Walt."


"You will address me as Walter."

"Walter, whatever."

"Cheryl, do really feel something for me?"

"I guess so."

"Then just pay attention to that, and follow my lead. Say, 'Yes, Walter.'"

My special friend looked at me with suspicion. "Is this just another creepy thing to you? I-"

"Cheryl. Either say it or don't. Trust me. It's important."

She huffed. "Okay. Yes, Walter."

"You'll follow my lead."

"I'll follow your lead."

"Okay. Hug me." I opened my arms.

She did. It was our first hug. Her hands were cold. So were her arms, but her body was warm against mine. I kissed her hair.

"You're going to take me home for dinner, tonight."

"I'll have to call my mom."

"You don't. You don't owe her anything. For the rest of the day, you only owe me -- everything."

She gulped.

Later that day, I was not expected.

"You should have called before bringing a boy home."

"Ms. Sayer, I asked her not to."

"Cheryl, is something wrong?" The step-mom slotted me into a very undesirable opinion space.

"No, Mom. I guess he wanted to surprise you."

That was more cooperation than I had expected from my new charge.

"Well knock my socks off. This certainly is a surprise. I didn't even know you were spending time with a boy."

"It's just dinner, Mom."

"Oh, we have plenty enough. You father may be late at work, somewhere." I learned where Cheryl's bitterness originated. Step-mom's voice was pure lemon. She worked to sweeten her voice. "Come on in."

I was ready for the barrage of usual questions. I spoke of my studies, my goals, my parents' work. I described meeting Cheryl at the dealership, but admitted to admiring her at school.

By dinnertime, the father had yet to appear.

"Dig in, Walter." Ms. Sayer's opinion of me had mellowed.

"Please, call me Walt." I smiled.

Cheryl kicked my calf. I smiled harder.

"I hope you like roast chicken and salad and corn on the cob."

"I do, but I'll wait until the man of the house arrives." I chose my words carefully.

"You can never tell with Henry. His work is worse than unpredictable."

She possibly meant that her husband's hours were despicably predictable.

"Can't be long now." I put my napkin in my lap. If only the front door's knob had click at that exact moment.

It clicked four minutes later. I endured Ms. Sayer's consternation until then. She had said very little to Cheryl, so far.

"Honey, what's wrong?" Mr. Sayer dashed in. I had used Cheryl's phone to text him. "I got your note. It said you were spending the night with a boy, in your room."

"Mr. Sayer," I offered my hand, "I'm Walter Nelson. The message didn't say in her room."

"Henry! Is that lipstick on your cheek?"

The night had just begun.

"Of course it is. You know what I was doing."

"Cheryl, you will see your friend to the front door and then go to your room."

"Cheryl, I've got this. Please, relax and think about what I told you. It'll be hard, but I know you can do it."

The adults stopped shouting when I talked to Cheryl in my normal voice.

"It's not a good thing for you to stay, son." Mr. Sayer voiced politely.

"It will be worse for Cheryl, if I don't."

"Are you threatening her, boy?" From 'son' to 'boy' in one round. I must have done something right.

"You can't see what IS threatening her, neither of you." That got their attention.

"I will slap you silly, if you don't leave this instant."

"That wouldn't look good on a police record."

"I can certainly haul you out by the collar. You're officially a trespasser."

"Cheryl, where did you find this nasty boy?" Ms Sayer tried to outflank me.

"Mr. Sayer, in my house, my mother would never be allowed to speak to me in a disparaging tone."

"This isn't your house. Now get out!" He reached for me.

"You'll have to take me out of here, and then you'll never hear what your wife says to Cheryl when they're alone and you're boffing some delicious side order."


"You really don't know."

"Henry, evict that boy at once."

"What is he talking about, Fi?"

"He's a lying smartass. I'll take him myself." The woman grabbed my arm. We were about equal in strength and height. I had some time to ponder my next words.

"Ms. Sayer, you've been placed in a dreadful situation, but you're not really a bad person."

"Shut up!" I can't remember which one said it.

"I may be a dumb kid, but I know one thing." I didn't hesitate. "Cheryl deserves better from both of you."

"What have you been telling this brat?" Her father yelled.

"Don't, Cheryl." I cautioned, just in case. "I learned it from my parents. My parents love me as much as you both love Cheryl, but neither of you have my parent's discipline."

"I've heard a lot of stupid things in my-"

"But you haven't heard the awful things your wife hurls at your daughter."

Ms. Sayer tugged me into the living room. She reached for the front doorknob.

"Fi. Let go of him. What is he talking about?"

She ignored her husband and opened the door.

"So help me, I've never touched you, woman, but if you've hurt my girl…"

Her grip tore into my wrist. I yelped despite my resolve to be unmoved. "You bastard!" She shouted back at her husband. Then she freed me. "You sick, whore chasing fuck!"

Their row was just beginning. I dashed back into the dining area to Cheryl. Her parents' anger veiled my escape. "Take me to your room."

"No. This has gone too far. Why did I trust you? Now everything is ruined!" She yelled in a whisper.

"Everything is ruined differently!" I retorted. "This time, nobody's shouting at you. Now take me to your room."

"You think you can just come into my home and turn my parents into a perfect mom and dad? You're a stupid fool!"

"An office tower full of shrinks couldn't fix your parents. But until dawn I promised I would take their abuse. I've kept my word, so far. Mostly."

She might have laughed if the hollering in the next room hadn't been filling her eyes with tears. She led me to a staircase and took me up to her room.

"They've fought before, but tonight, shit, you pressed every button on them."

"They pressed most of them themselves."

"I hate to think what tomorrow will bring."

"Don't." I reached for her and held her. We sank to sitting on her bed. I might have offered my lips to hers. I don't remember. The house was suddenly quiet.

"They're coming." She said scarily.

I continued to hold her.

There was a knock at the door. "Cheryl, will you come out, please?"

My heart fluttered when she asked me, "What should I do?"

"Stay here." I got up. I went to her bedroom door and opened it. "Mr. Sayer? Ms. Sayer?"

"We called your parents." They must have found Cheryl's phone.

Behind me, my first charge sobbed. "That won't solve anything." I said and closed the door as if I didn't care if they blocked it. They let us alone.

My phone rang. "Son, we'll be there in fifteen minutes. Should I hire a lawyer?"

"Not just yet, Dad." I hung up. "Cheryl, what would you like to do in the next fifteen minutes?

We ended up naked, spooning under her covers. At one point, she reached around and felt my erection. She dropped it like a live eel.

I told her, "I'm going to masturbate. Decide now where you'll put my ejaculate."

I came in her hands. This time, they were as warm as her breasts against my back. Sighing, I crawled out of her bed and dressed. I left her in her room.

"Hello, Father. Hello Mother."

"Your boy refused to leave when he was asked. Please take him home."

"I promised to stay with Cheryl for as long this night threatened her."

"Walter, the law doesn't care what you promised. Come along."

"Ed, may I?"

"Yes. Of course." My father agreed.

My mother knelt before me and looked very serious. "Your father and I care very much about what you promised. Sometimes you have to accept punishment without the reward of having done what's right."

I turn to the Sayer's. "I think you'd better call the police."

The room fell silent. I watched Cheryl's parent's faces twitch. Mr. Sayer spoke. "Will he leave in the morning?"

"If that's what he promised. Walter may fib from time to time, but when he makes a promise-"

"This is ridiculous!" Ms. Sayer burst. "I'm call-"

"Shut up, Fi. You may have every reason to hate me, but this time it's about my girl. I'll decide how to proceed."

And that was that. My parents left. Mr. Sayer dragged a futon into Cheryl's room. She had put on pajamas by then. After he closed the door. I got up from the futon and climbed into her bed.

"Are you going to do what I say?"

"That's what I promised, until morning."

"And when is morning?" I reached for her buttons.

"Whenever we wake up." She shucked her bottoms.

I pulled the top over her arms and left it around her wrists. "Maybe we shouldn't go to sleep, then."

"Whatever you say, Walter."

My new erection found the cleft in her butt. I sawed perfunctorily between them. My hand roamed indelicate parts of her body. I said, "I'm not sure if we should go all the way."

"Then I've picked the wrong person to surrender to, if you're unsure."

I said, "Tell me what you want."

"I'm not sure, either, but don't stop what you're doing."

"I'll decide that." I stopped and crawled over her. I leaned my face to hers and kissed her full lips. I took her hand and wrapped its fingers around my cock. "Don't drop it this time, or you'll be punished."

"You mean, like last time?" She spurt a laugh.

"Did you wash your hands after you wiped them with tissues?" I placed my hands on the sides of her lush body. I stroked up to her pits and down to her hips.

"No. Did you want me lick them clean?"

"I'd like to see that before you wipe them."

My hand smoothed her tummy. They brushed the underside of her breasts. Her hand played with my prick. I was very excited. I didn't have two condoms.

I reached for her sex. It was trembling, moist, ready. "Tell me. What are you feeling?"

"Your dick."

My hand pushed inside her. I didn't feel a hymen. "Tell me." I repeated. My fingers sought the spot I had read about.

"This is my first time." I don't think she lied.

"Your feelings."

"Ooooh, good. Your fingers. Um, good."

Then I found her spot. In time, she bucked and squealed. "You made me cum!" She was more excited than I was. I don't know why I didn't cum when she did. Maybe it was because her hand gripped my cock like a vice while her pelvis pounded against my hand.

We didn't count her cums. My second was better than my first. She mouthed my prickhead and I decided to shoot into her throat. I sucked her pussy and clit, finishing her for the night. Our last erg was spent.

We woke up. I dressed, went home, showered. My mother was working in the kitchen, on her laptop. I kissed her cheek.

I called Cheryl. She'd had a brief row with her dad that morning, but she promised it had been healthy. She wouldn't hear many outbursts in the following weeks. Neither of us went to school, and her father stayed home for the day. She texted a pledge to obey me, "for the foreseeable future".

When my father returned from work, he belted my ass black and blue before supper. I stood while eating.

"I'm very proud of you, Walter. I didn't spank you to punish you. I did it to remind you that meddling with the private affairs of others will never resolve well."

It would take more than a loving beating for me to learn that lesson. be continued...
Chapter 2

Grandpop and I were playing a cooperative RPG on the living room's game console. We'd never done that before. A suspicious thought occurred to me. Had mother told her father about Cheryl and I?

"Do you know when a boy becomes a man, Walter?" It was a classic intro into a lecture. He'd never done that before. I mean, not much.

"You said it was when you get a car."

"Yes, but you don't seem to want the expense of a car, so think of my advice as a metaphor for women."

"Finally going to take me to that brothel, Grandpa?"

"That expense is worse. Sex doesn't make a man. It makes babies."

"Yeah, it's about responsibility."

"Your parents were responsible for your first fifteen years. Since then, you've become more responsible for yourself, but a man is responsible for others."

"Mother's responsible too."

"You mother is devoted, diligent, disciplined, and smarter than all the men in her home, but she's not responsible for anything but what she's told."

"I'll be changing your diapers, Daddy, long after you remember who I am." My mother piped up from the kitchen.

"That's only because you love me. Get me a beer. No. Bring two."

"Yes, Father." Mom went to the fridge, plucked two bottles, opened them, stepped into the living room, and handed them to us. Serving me was illegal, but that fact hadn't fazed her. She did flash me a look that might have said, "You can say no." Then she resumed her post before her laptop at the kitchen table.

I sipped mine. I'd had beer before, not that brand, but I wasn't a fan. I was not going to complain to my grandfather.

"Not your first?"

"This brand."

"Tastes like dishwater from an oatmeal bowl, right? It's what your father likes. Your mother knows I hate this brand, but does she do something about it?"

"She did what you told her."

"That's right. Even though your mother really does love her daddy, she doesn't feel it's her responsibility to stock a few beers that I enjoy."

"But if you told her to-"

"Your grandfather would have to pay for them." Mother was not going pretend she wasn't involved in a conversation between men.

"Lisa, let us talk."

I got it then. Mother would be spending Father's money. Grandpa didn't have authority over Father. "Thanks, Gramps. You've given me a lot to think about."

He ended up killing more Orcs than I before Father arrived from work.

"Hello, Anthony, please stay for supper."

"Nope. My work here is done." He smiled at Dad, patted my head, and told Mom to get his sweater.

Father kissed mother after she'd seen Grandpa to his car. "Can dinner wait?"

She nodded.

He took her into the master bedroom.

I called Cheryl. I hadn't decided to go all the way yet. Cheryl was a good charge, but I wasn't sure I wanted to make her a full sex slave. That would be a lot of responsibility. We talked about camping one night that weekend.

"Walt?" Father's voice shot adrenalin into my blood. It came from their bedroom. "Come in here for a minute."

"I've gotta go." My voice shook. I closed the flip cover on her response. I told Dad, "I'll be right there." I was already on my feet, moving.

Dad and Mom sat at the end of their king bed. He pinned one of her arms behind her back. She winced in front of me without shame. Father whispered, "Come in, Son."

I swallowed the saliva pouring into my mouth.

"I'll be brief, Walter. Your mother is not a toy. I am not a rival. Your grandfather is a blathering fool."

"Yes, Father."

"Repeat what I said." Father had never spoke like that to me. Something about him felt off.

I didn't disappoint. "Mother is not a toy. You are not a rival. Grandfather is a blathering fool."

Father released mother's arm. "Well, let's get dinner then. I'm famished!" He stood and strode out of his room, herding me out with him.

Two days before the day we had discussed going camping on, I broke up with Cheryl.

"Will you tell me why?"

"I'm not ready to be entirely responsible for you, and if I keep making mistakes with you, I'll feel guilty."

"You've found someone else."

"Not yet." I lied.

"Oh." She had been crying since she first realized what I was telling her. Now she stopped. She sniffed a few times, took a deep breath, and sighed. "Actually, I don't really need you."

A month later, Gina called me, from work. "Can you swing by here before closing time?"

"Got the mechanics armed with wrenches?" I smiled into the phone.

"A few. I'm kidding. Just one."

I made a beeline to the car dealership.

"I ought to take you by the ear and plant your face in a fresh drip pan." Gina threatened me. Cheryl wasn't around. "That girl's been moping for weeks."

"That's her business."

"Fuck you." She did shake a wrench at me.

"Look. I've never broke off with a girl before. I did the best I could."

"Oh, she won't say your shoes touch the ground, but I've been around. I've dumped and been dumped. There is no best way. If you care enough about yourself, you'll have enough to share with others."

"What? I came here for a Psychology Today lecture?"

"No. You came here to pick me up for dinner. I'll get dressed." She left me in the service waiting room.

I dialed home. "Mom, it's an emergency."

"Is Cheryl holding a gun to your head?" I hadn't told mom where I was. She probably meant it in a general sense.

"Um, yes and no, but this gun wants me to take it out to dinner."

"Go and you'll be sleeping with the fishes before dawn."

"You don't understand."

"Details, Walter."

I told her the situation.

"Something between Aelphinia's five star and Denny's. No sushi."

"You're a big help, Mom."

"You're a big boy." She hung up.

Damn. I thought this woman pushing forty looked sexy in stained overalls. Gina shook her ass into the glass walled room wearing a black tube skirt that hugged her knees and a red muscle shirt on top of a chest band. Her hair was a bit mussed, but I was staring at her breasts. They reached as far forward as her backside reached back. Gina laughed. "Where are you taking me?"

"Not home to meet my parents."

She shot to me a "get serious" glare.

"You probably don't like sushi."

Her face softened into something resembling pleasant. "Nasty stuff."

"Indian? I know a nice place-"

She tossed her keys at me. "You drive."

I only had a temporary, but I didn't tell her that.

For a mechanic, Gina's car was a temperamental bitch. I refused to swear at it after grinding the gears for the third time.

She painted her nails casually, as if we were on a flying carpet. She finished the last one as I pulled into the parking lot.

I opened the car door for Gina to step out. I opened the restaurant door for her to step in.

"Table for two?" The man greeting us smiled without obvious judgement. What was obvious, to a blind man, I was not this woman's kin. I let him hold a chair for her. I waited for her to sit before I sank into my courtroom stand.

Gina didn't even peek at the menu. "I want to hear the full story."

I didn't tell her the full story. I left out my parent's brief involvement.

"Huh." She seemed a little shaken. She picked up the menu with one hand and sipped her glass of water with the other. "Sherry," she told a passing waiter. I ordered a mint lassi.

She quieted until our table's waiter returned with our drinks and took our order. I started feeling more comfortable.

"You calculating son of a shit mucker." Her eyes trained on me. "Dating may be a testing ground, but you must be some kind of robot to have treated her like that."

"She gave me permission."

"She didn't know what you were talking about. Hell, I don't know what you are. I've heard some things." She paused, checked her purse for the third time, and finished, "But never the likes from a high schooler."

"I'm an adult."

"Hell. My fifteen year old niece is an adult. You're some kind of artificial intelligence."

"That joke's getting old." It was one of my pat responses, at school."

Gina stiffened, gave me a stern look of disapproval. It was exactly what I needed, but I did wish I hadn't said, 'old'. I saw her as a vibrant, living creature. I had to apologize and take charge at the same time.

"I blame myself, my parents, and a culture exploring sexuality so fast, nobody can keep up."

She took half her sherry in one drink. "What do you know about sex? You didn't even fuck your girlfriend who now asks me, 'why.'"

"I told you why."

"Sounded like you were scared."

"Nope. I'm not at all afraid." I stood up, took out all the cash in my wallet and placed it on the table. I went to her chair and offered to pull it for her. Gina looked up at me, curious.

She stood up and let me lead her back to her car.

"Where do you live?" I asked.

"She told me the address. I punched it into my phone. It gave directions. Then I ordered Chinese food."

Gina's car had access to the apartment's underground garage. I opened her door. So she could step out. I stopped my hands' trembling, reached around her back, and urged her close. Man, her lips were like Cheryl's breasts.

She put her hand on my groin and felt my erection, measuring it.

"Here." Gina breathed hot. She hiked up her tube skirt to her waist. She wore sensible white underpants. I reached in and felt the wetness that darkened them. She might have cum then. She bit my ear.

She took my dick out, skilled quick and leaned back against her car, spreading her legs.

I didn't waste time. I shoved the soaked panel aside and pressed my prick into her burning cunt.

"Oh, fuck that cock!" Her voice was intense but not loud. The echoes in that concrete love shack would last until morning.

"Get a condom." I said bucking my ass between Gina' thighs.

"Purse." We had to pause to get it. She fumbled to open the foil. I fumbled to roll it on with a gap.

The fucking thing broke. Passion may have started us in on risky shit. The condom broke that too.

"It was my last."

"In your apartment?"

"No. Damn!" She looked more disappointed than I felt.

I felt more frustrated. "I didn't expect this to happen tonight. I would have carried."

"Don't apologize. That condom's nearly as old as my divorce anniversary."

"You're so beautiful." I tried kissing her again. She kissed back with cooler lips."

"We could get each other off." Gina tried.

"Let's go inside."

A little music and some wine later, we found a suitable groove. It turned out to be a respectable night.

Gina insisted on driving me to school. Thank the gods Cheryl didn't see her drop me off, but Gina made sure everyone, student or teacher who could, see plenty. It took me a few minutes, after she'd driven away, to decide if I should wipe her lipstick off my mouth.

That afternoon, I realized we hadn't swapped phone numbers. It was a mistake that I wouldn't be able to correct for a long time. I took a bus to the dealership. Cheryl saw me and came running. Well, walking swiftly.

"Was she right?" She asked.


"She told me you were a little boy trying to be a big man."

"It broke." I told her.

"What broke?"

"The condom." As if that meant anything to her. It did.

"Poor, Walt." She took my hand in hers. "Gina accepted a proposal last week."

"You mean, last night was some sort of trap?"

"She called it a test."

I didn't want to hear more. "Thanks, Cheryl."

I went home and waited for Dad. Cheryl texted me, "She said you're not afraid."

"Dad, I'm afraid I've done something stupid. Can we talk in my room?"

He sized me up. "Yes." I followed him. I sat on my bed. He stood.

"Dad, did you date much before you married Mom?"

"What did you do?" True to form, he only talked about what he wanted to discuss.

"I let my feelings get the best of me. I made myself a fool for an older woman."

"So why are you afraid?" He surprised me. Dad wasn't normally a source for insight. That was Mom's expertise.

"Huh? I'm not-"

"When your mother finally accepted my proposal, she asked for two things in return. She wanted one child, and she wanted freedom to pursue her love of programming."

The way he said, "love of programming," hit me in the heart. I had always assumed that my mother loved Dad.

"Do you love this woman?"

"No." I answered.

"There's nothing to be afraid of. All men are fools." The man who was not my rival walked away.

I cried. I fucking cried the moment Father shut the door! Why did I have to chase this dream? On my terms I would gain everything without anyone losing anything. It felt like I was back at square, minus one, the square where losers start the game. Self-doubt is worse than fear and more likely after being wounded. I relapsed into default student mode, for days.

Mother took careful aim at my hurt. A week had passed before I realized she'd been working on me. "Another game of Scrabble?"

"Pffft! Maybe after I memorize the dictionary." I started picking up pieces. Mom, why don't you play video games?"

"They remind me too much of work."

"But you love programming."

"I love myself too, almost as much as I love you." She held the bag. I dropped in the tiles I had picked up.

"But you love Dad best." My chest anticipated stabbing.

"That's true, but it's not the same love. Parents are hard not to love when they do right by you."

"I meant my dad."

"We have a strong bond." Mother turned away, to put the board and bag into the box. She closed the lid on the box. She didn't want to pursue my line of questioning. I got that much. My heart winced.

"Um, did Grandpa really do right by you? He was so physically -- strict."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"I want to know."

Mother picked up the game box and returned it to its shelf. When she closed the cupboard I saw her slump, slightly. "Father would masturbate when he whipped me."

"That's not at all right." I wished I'd cut out my tongue. "Mom, I mean, how did-"

Her sharp breath interrupted me. Her sharp words cut. "I approved of it. He didn't start until I was thirteen. I knew about men and sex and desire. Not well, but I knew enough. It did no harm." Mother was fingering the back of her pants.

"How long had he been whipping you?"

Mother turned around. "Father never punished me physically or emotionally when I was a child."

"That's what his wives were for?"

"We'll stop speaking of him here." She sat down at her laptop and opened it.

I left her to her love. I resisted the urge to go into the master bedroom and touch the tools that my father used on my mother. I had never even seen them, nor knew where they actually were, but my imagination served magnificently. Before I left that fantasy, I had masturbated into a tissue in my bedroom.

Father and Mother passed down the hall into their room. I masturbated again. It was a sign that I had a life changing decision to make. I spent the rest of the night looking online at colleges.

The following Thursday, Gina must have gotten my number from Cheryl. She called me from the dealership. "Would you like to finish what we started?"

"Yes and no."

"Bit brain."

"Same ol' jokes, Gina? I meant that I'd like to, but I'm not going to do that."

"But you're going to do something?"

"Maybe try out a family tradition."

"Sounds taboo."

"I need someone to practice on."

"Not, 'with', I'm hearing."

"You have a fiance to be with."

"I'm not that kind of woman, monogamous."

"Does he know?"

"I basically said if one of us catches the other fooling around, it'd better not be what breaks our marriage."

"Optimistic outlook."

"I know me."

"I can work with that, if you're not against change."

"Walt, you say the dumbest things. I know this riddle. You want a masochist."

"Know any?"

"I've played many roles. Have you heard, the top is often topped by the bottom?"

"I'll write that down. I'll write down your phone number, too."

"I won't tell you that. Last thing I want is my phone to buzz from the wrong guy when it's stuffed in my panties."

"That, was funny."

"Seriously, I don't want you calling my cell. My apartment doesn't have a line, either."

"It has to happen at your house."

"No shit, but I choose when." Gina topped me.

We made a date.

Friday night Father invited a colleague over for dinner, Bette. She had a boyfriend who tried to set a lively tone.

"Mrs. Nelson, this spaghetti is just how I like it. Soft noodles are sexier in the mouth than that al-dente chew fest."

"You're welcome, Jim."

"I'm not Italian, but I'd marry one if she made noodles this good."

My father said, "Jim, that could be construed as a slight against Bette's cooking. She deserves more respect from you."


Mother reached, "Bette, Tony says you wrangle the office network and databases. Did you build any software to assist?"

Jim laughed, "Now, now, none of that boring computer talk tonight. Say these croutons taste fresh!"

"Jim, the women will decide what they talk about. I'm glad you're enjoying the food. Bette, I'm sorry I wasn't clear about bringing guests with you."

Yep. It was another high point of the Nelson social season. I have to give Jim credit. He kept cajoling Mom and nudging Dad in the ribs until Bette asked him to go the car and drive home.

"Mr. Nelson, please accept my apology. I didn't invite him, but he offered to drive. I wasn't even going to invite him in for that first drink."

"No harm done, Bette." Father finished his meal with a better appetite.

"We'll have Walter drive you home." Mom explained.

"I only have a temporary license."

Dad suggested, "She could stay in your room, Walt, until I drive to work in the morning."

"You are so funny, Mr. Nelson!" Bette laughed never realizing that Dad had been serious.

"She can drive home, and I'll bring the car back." I said sensibly.

I hadn't noticed how attractive Bette was, until I was shut in the car with her. She wasn't beautiful by artistic or porn star perspectives, but she had silky looking hair, almond skin with few blemishes, and she dressed conservatively, just sharp enough to imagine her being dangerous. I imagined her small hands gripping me instead of the steering wheel.

"You mother always calls you Walter, and your father calls you Walt. Which do you prefer?"

"It depends on who's addressing me." I explained. "I tell people new to me that my name is Walter. Friends can call me Walt, unless they've agreed to let me take charge of them. Then it's Walter, as it should be."

Bette's tinkling laugh softened the road noise. "You have your father's sense of humor. He was very clear that I should call him Mr. Nelson." She smiled as if it were a game.

"How long have you and Jim been together?"

"We date occasionally. I sometimes see other men, but Jim's got a good heart and is emotionally available."

"I know why you see other men."

"Walt, that's not really any of your business." Bette said softly.

"True. I want to say my intuition-, but no. I shouldn't. You're right." I fell silent.

"Go ahead. You might learn something when you find out how wrong you are."

"Jim is your pet. You're looking for an owner, but you'll never find one as long as he tags along to comfort you after rejection."

"See. You're completely wrong." She didn't speak again until she parked in front of her house. "Walter, would you know if your parents are in an open relationship?"

"I don't think so. I don't know for sure. Ask Father. He'll tell you. He won't think less of you."

"I did something silly, no, stupid, a while ago. I hinted at seducing your father. He said the strangest thing."

I guessed aloud, "If my father caught his woman with another man, he would ask that man to administer a severe punishment to her."

"That wasn't a joke?" She shook her head.

"If Father thought you really were trying to seduce him, he would have bent you over a desk and whipped your bottom."

Bette gazed in my direction without focus. "You're so young, to be so like him."

"Someday, maybe." I told her.

We sat in the family car for a while. She tried to make small talk. I didn't want to tell her to get out. It was pretty confusing for both of us. Finally, I got out of the car and went to her. I opened the car door. "Invite me inside." I was following a hunch.

"Okay." Bette was still confused. She got her keys out of her purse as she lead me to her front door. She unlocked it and opened it, allowing me to enter first. I flicked a light switch. She came in and asked if I wanted coffee.

It sounded like a routine invite.

"J-just stay right there, standing." I followed my instinct, but was uncertain. "I mean, you can put down your purse."

Bette seemed to get what I was doing. She didn't freak. "Okay, Walt." She set her purse on the end table and took off her coat. She lay it on a chair arm and stood in her living room.

"I want you to call me Walter."

"I can do that, Walter."

"Can you accept that my father is hopelessly in love with his wife?"

"I-I don't want to."

I stepped close to her and looked with all the sincerity that I felt. "I can do something about that, but I can't promise results."

Bette did understand. Her lips tightened in resolve. "You really are older than 18, right?"

"Yes, Bette. Stay right there. I'm going to find something and bring it to you."

I took my time, examining the kitchen, looking into the drawers. Nothing was right. I headed to her bedroom. Her home office was the dining area. I had to pass through it, I saw a five year service plaque on the wall. I took it down. I could put a decent grip on its sharp right or left top curved corners. Its wooden backing was firm oak. It wasn't very broad, but its edges would probably hurt a lot. I would have to wield it with a cloth around my hand.

She saw me carrying it and stiffened. "How did you know your father gave that to me?"

"I didn't. I simply thought it was something that would remind you of him."

"Oh, ...a few minutes ago I was telling you how wrong you were."

"This is what I'm going to do, Bette." I was trying to do it as properly as I could imagine doing it. Explaining it would set up her expectations and hopefully more than a little worry. "I'm going to pull out the couch until there's room for us behind it. You will bend over and lean on its back with your elbows. When you've done that, don't move until I'm finished."

"Okay, Walter." She sounded worried.

I nearly lost my cool just trying to move the couch. It was one of those sofa beds designed to be installed before the house was built around it, I exaggerate. It was as heavy as the cement foundation preventing the sofa from burying itself into China's back yard.

Somehow I managed it. I would have lost my nerve if Bette had giggled just once. Obediently and patiently, she followed behind the couch and bent down to it.

I thought the hard part was over. "If you scream, will the neighbors hear?"

"I don't know."

I couldn't back down. I took the plaque and wrapped my hand with a doily from the end table. My other hand unbuttoned her business suit skirt and unzipped it. It fell down her thighs past her knees. Her slip followed it. I reached into the waistband of her nylon hosiery and managed to tug it over her round ass. I decided to leave Bette's panties on. They were petite purple things. Her cheeks were plenty bare.

I want you to count each blow, aloud.

"How many will there be?" She was already breathing hard.

"I don't know yet." I swung. The board connected with a sharp report.

"HIIIEEEE!!!" She burst.

"One." I prompted.

"Wh- one." She wheezed.

I struck her left cheek square with the next blow. She shouted, but not as loudly. "T-two."

I bashed the same cheek again." It took her a second to say, "Three," after recovering her breath.

I didn't know how red an ass could or should get in these circumstances. I took pity on it and swatted the other cheek as hard as I could!

"OWWWW!!!" Bette gulped. "F-four."

When she had counted to eight, her voice couldn't stop shaking. She was crying.

"Twelve more, I think." I told her. My father would probably have given more.

"I'm sorry!" The office woman blubbered. "I never should have made a pass at your father."

"Don't ever do it again, Bette." I hit both her cheeks, closer to her thighs. Her vulva took some of it.

"AAAOOOWWW!!" Her body jumped in a new way. My dick lurched at the sight of her reaction. "N- AH- ine."

"Say it clearly."

"Nine." She whispered.

"Louder, for the next one." I struck her ass and sex harder.


"That's good, Bette!" I walloped her again. My cock was straining in my pants.

"OOOHHH!!" Heavy breathing. "Eleven!" She said crisply. I think she finally relaxed her cheeks. I would have to hit her harder.

I struck the reddest spot on her ass. CRACK!





"YEEEE!!" Sobs. "Th-th-thirteen."

"'Seventeen' was the hardest thing she'd ever had to say. I made her say it three times before I was satisfied with her pronunciation.

My hand was raw. The doily wasn't helping much. I was pretty sure she was hurting worse than I, except for my iron boner.

I pounded the last three into her ass. "Count!"

She couldn't speak. Her voice crackled. Her sobs overwhelmed it.

"Oh-oh oh oh." She sputtered. "Eighteen."


"Awwwhh." Sigh. "Twenty."

"Stay there, Bette." I lay the board on the couch back. When she tilted her head, she could read the commendation that my father had given to her.

I had seen a bottle of lotion in the front bathroom. I held it up to her face. "Will this promote infections?"

For a second, maybe she thought that's what I wanted. "I-I don't think so."

I dribbled a bit into my hand and rubbed my other one into it. I soothed her flaming skin as best as I could. Bette whimpered and groaned.

"When you feel ready, stand up, come here, hug me, and ask for my forgiveness." I stood back from her, in the middle of the room. I couldn't believe that I was still hard.

She came to me, shy, sought my embrace and looked down. "Please forgive m-me, Walter."

"If you dare to tempt my father again, I won't do this to you. He'll do it." It was the best threat I knew.

"I don't want th-this to happen ever again!" She looked up at me and hugged me again. Then she stepped back and gasped softly, "You really got hard. I thought that was a cliche." Her hands found my pregnant cock.

I didn't know how to respond to her touch. My balls cried out for release.

Bette kept talking, as if my dick were me. "I mean, I didn't feel anything except hurt." She swallowed. "N-now I do. I mean, I wish-" Her hands fled back to her.

I imagined spewing my cum over her face. I wanted to laugh at that silly, stray thought. "If you have a dildo or vibrator, fetch them." I heard myself tell her.

She limped to her bedroom and returned with several. She accepted that I had released my erection by the time she returned. She had removed her panty, something I should have told her. I took the middle sized dildo and a battery powered egg.

I had her lean over the couch from the front, until her hands held her. I switched on and placed the egg against her anus. She convulsed at its vibrating touch. I rested my cockhead on it, to keep it in its nasty place. Whoa, I never felt anything so intense before, but I didn't shoot. I eased the fake cock into her slit. It was remarkably wet, despite her panty had remained unstained.

"Ooooohhh. I can't believe it! It's never felt like that before." Bette echoed my thoughts.

I pumped her cunt and my cock at the same time. Neither of us lasted more than a minute. I shot a load that reached the collar of her suit blouse. Most of it drenched her back.

She groaned and cried. Her body shook the egg off, but it couldn't dislodge the dong thrusting into her. She shuddered one last time. Her knees sank into the couch cushions.

"Do you see the plaque?" I reminded her. "Keep it in a handy place. Bring it to me the next time I visit." I pulled up my clothes. I left her to her thoughts. I worried I was so drained I'd crash my parents' car.

Mother was standing in the living room when I returned home. "Hello, Walter." She took the keys from me and hung them on a hook near the door. I would have done it.

"Did you know what she wanted?"

"I'm not psychic, Honey."

"She wanted to know if you and father were in an open relationship."

"I place no bounds on your father, Walter."

"You don't have to, though."

"Have you considered why he invited her to dinner tonight?"

I hadn't.

Mom walked to her bedroom. I hadn't noticed it when she took the keys, but this time she had farther to go. She tried to hide it. She was experienced at hiding it, but my memory of how an ass wobbled when it hurt bad was fresh in my mind.

"Was Grandfather here?" I called after her.

"Good night, Walter." be continued...
Do this story's readers have any feedback for me? Good or harsh, I'd like to know in order to improve my skills.
Chapter 3

I called off my date with Gina. I told her in person.

"Too bad. I was considering buying black fishnets for the occasion."

"On you, they might have turned into a fetish for me."

"Instead, you turned into a shit." Her shaking head underscored disapproval.

"Look. You're only interested in playing, pretending more than participating. I won't get what I need trying it with you.

"I would have made it worth your time and, ahem, effort." Her swallow following her words spoke truer. Gina didn't back down or apologize to anyone. That she would hold out a reconcilement...

"Gina, I-I didn't think." I reached to hug her.

She swatted my hands away. "I've got an engine to overhaul." She left me then. I retreated home.


"I'm trying to think."

I let her be. She found me in my room half-hour later. "Have you been crying?"

"Yep. But it's not related to what I wanted to ask you."

Mother seated herself on my desk chair. "Ask."

"What does love feel like?"

"I can't tell you, not the love I think you're asking about."

"I feel sad, powerful, stupid, horny-"

"You've taken a big chunk of love already. You'll get there."

"What would you do if you loved me with this kind of love?"

"I'd tear off my clothes and prostrate myself before you." Mom laughed, "What a question!"

"Silly answer. Boy finds challenge in emulating his parents BDSM lifestyle. noted." I looked at my feet.

"May I leave?"

"Okay." My swirling thoughts missed her clue, and my memory lost the chance to contemplate it later.

Ten days passed. I was looking at colleges again when Bette's email arrived. She said she had peeked into Father's work computer to get my address.

I wrote back, "There are misdemeanors, crimes, and governance in this world. Only the government can get away with illegalities without punishment." I told her I expected her in my room that night for governance.

"Bette, what a pleasant surprise." Mother greeted her at the door. "Did you forget something from the other night?"

"I came to see, Walter."

"Please come right in." Mother's voice lost some of its pleasure. "Walter, Bette Travers is here to see you."

"Thanks, Mom. Tell her to wait."

"Please wait for my son." Mother returned to her laptop in the kitchen.

Without an offer to sit, Bette waited standing.

I chose to meet her a few minutes later. "Hello, Bette."

"Ms. Travers, is more proper, Walter." Mom corrected from the next room.

"Mom, she came to me. It's Bette."

Father had been sitting in his chair, the entire time, reading a wilderness survival guide. I thought, after dinner he had retired to his den. I thanked the gods that Bette hadn't said hello to him. Then I remembered, she'd worked with him for years. She knew.

"Come on." I told her.

She followed me to my room.

"Close the door." I waited for her to comply. "Did you bring it?"

"N-no, should I have?"

"I didn't specify it. It's not related to what you've done, not much. I left your email on the screen there."

She saw it.

"That is your email?"

"It is."

"You stole into my father's computer to learn my address. That's what it says."

"I did."

"Do you know how unbelievably stupid that is?"

"I'm not stupid!" She flared. I had said the wrong thing.

"W-wisdom and intelligence... er, two sides of the same coin. Foolish, then." I waited.

She didn't lash back, nor replied.

"I asked you to consider the magnitude of your trespass and to drive slowly getting here. You tell me how many stripes you think you deserve. I tell you how they'll be applied."


"That's an intelligent number, a good number but they're going to be a very hard twenty. Espionage is not in the same league as a flirt."


"You've given your number." I printed the email. I leaned over the printer and unplugged the power cord from it. "Drop down to your knees and unplug this cord from the wall. Stay on your hands and knees."

She handed the cord to me.

I waded the printout and held it before her face. "Open." I placed it between her perfect rows of teeth. "Bite down, and close your eyes. Don't do anything else until I tell you. If you spit that out of your mouth before I'm through, you will leave and never contact me again."

I stood tall and weighed the power cord in my hand. It was a nasty tool. I had received it very sparingly from my father. There was a trick to using it as safely as possible, but it could never be considered a safe tool. Twenty were going to cause some damage, no matter how carefully applied.

I had told her to wear a skirt. I reached for it, pulled it over her ass, revealing nakedness.

She concentrated on the empty wall socket.

I heard Father and Mother passing my closed door. He took her into the master. I looked at the weapon in my hand. My cock stiffened. I needed this. I set down the cord and retrieved a belt from my closet.

I wailed twenty strokes against Bette's darkening ass. I was furious with myself and horny beyond belief. I wanted to plunge my cock into this willing hole and hit her with my fists. Instead, I hurled every stroke with all my pent up anguish and desire.

I feared my parents would hear Bette's cries barely muted by the wad of wet paper in her jaws. I shouted, "LEFT! RIGHT! RIGHT-RIGHT! LEFT-LEFT-LEFT!" and so on, to mask Bette's wailing.

Twenty strokes later found us emotionally exhausted. I helped her to lay face down on my bed. I sat on the edge beside her. My plan was to sit there until our tears had dried. Hers were far more and wetter.

Despite her pain, she reached to my trousers and felt for my erection. It seemed to reassure her, that some good had come out of her suffering. I opened my fly to her gentle knocks. "Go ahead." I said.

She took my cock into her soft hand and stroked me. "Left. Right. Left-Left-", and so on. Her humor surprised me.

I came upon her hand and my pant legs. I finished more exhausted and more alive. I sought to her needs.

"Pull your skirt up. I want to see your sorry behind."

Bette whimpered. "Mercy, please, Sir."

Damn if her submissiveness didn't make my satisfied prick harden a bit. I reached under my bed for some lube.

"Raise your ass. I don't want to get this stuff on my bed."

She obeyed and I spread the cool gel over her blushing patches. She had a wonderfully plump ass. When my hand reached between the back of her thighs, Bette cooed.

I was groping my toy's wet pussy when father knocked at my door. "Walt, what's going on in there?"

"I'm engaged in a private matter with Bette, Father."

"Finish up and tell her to see me in the living room."

That finished us, right then. I withdrew my hand from Bette's wet hole. I wiped with a tissue while she adjusted her skirt. We met Father a minute after his knock.

My worst fears were realized when I witnessed Father urge Bette to transfer to another department in their employer's company. He didn't want to see her around ever again.

I yelled at Father after Bette had driven away. He tore up my temporary driver's license. It was conditional on a parent's signature.

"You did nothing wrong until your outburst, Son. Ms. Travers was using you to coerce me into an act of infidelity." He handed the shreds of paper to me for disposing.

Something wasn't right. He'd had no problem with Bette going into my room. I clenched the paper bits in my hand. There was only one person who could have influenced Father. Had he been topped by his bottom?

I didn't seek out Mother until the next day. She sat in a posture more relaxed than I'd seen before. Her fingers seemed to dance upon the keyboard easily with few errors. Her cute little bulge of a few extra pounds wasn't thick enough to support the breadth of her chest. Her flowing auburn hair bent slightly from ends stuck in the middle-back of her wool sweater. Father kept the house at a cool 68F.

"I thought you didn't place conditions on Father's fidelity."

Mother stopped typing and sighed. "Father instructed you to not interrupt when I'm working." She pulled out the heavy firepower.

"It seems, Father's decrees aren't absolute in his house. What exception did you use to stop Bette from coming here again?"

"Your father has his own definitions for pride and honor. I asked him if he thought they were synonymous."

"Your saying that his honor to be faithful to you was endangered by his pride of me becoming a responsible adult."

"You're inferring a lot from a simple question. You're more wrong than I could convince you." Therefore it wasn't worth trying to convince me.

Mother's sly evasion was fuel for my passions. I remembered recent times when I yearned for this woman who had created me. She was strong and beautiful and a spirit few had the ability to own. I didn't.

I put my hand on her shoulder. My grip startled her for a second. "You'll see Bette again, just not as often." She said.

"Did Father bring her here for me the first time?"

"That's not the sort of thing he tells me."

I released her shoulder when I saw her hand reach for mine. Its warmth would have melted my coldness, my feeble technique to resist falling completely for her. "Thank you, Mother."

In only a few weeks, I would be graduating from high school with honors, but my grades were not the best. A girl, Tamary Benton, enlisted me and a few others from our honors writing class, to critique her valedictorian speech. I agreed half-heartedly. I'd never really paid her much attention. I knew she was one of the smartest girls in school, but like most boys I concentrated my gaze on more attractive girls.

Tamary was not obese. She was fat, but because she was short, it belied her athletic interior. She was second string on the softball team, and she had handed my ass to me when our PE class covered tennis. Her typical student smiling mask, shaded by a clean and brushed mop of un-styled hair, no doubt hid some sadness. Her clothes were nice enough but again without style. I think she dated but not often nor for long with the same guy. I did hear that she had dated a girl on the softball team. Funny how most guys who considered themselves tolerant of homosexuals thought that most girls who dated other girls were "just experimenting".

We met in the school's smaller theater which doubled as the drama classroom. I was lost in thought. I nearly forgot to show up. My ex-boss from the car dealership had called to ask if I would consider a salesman's job for the summer. Did I really want to deal with Gina again? Seeing Cheryl regularly would be a plus - I'd been thinking seriously of starting up with her again, but my pride didn't like that I would backpedal on a decision that had affected others.

I looked up, when Tamary said, "…affects the nations of a school's community." She was talking about sub cultures, and she was carefully maintaining a very dignified posture. My imagination brought me to erection in the next sixty seconds.

She called on me third, after concluding. "Walter, how did it sound to you?"

"I'm still thinking about my notes." I hadn't taken any. I knew what I wanted to say. "I'll tell you after we're done here." I heard a few obvious hums intended to embarrass. Tamary paused, couldn't see if she blushed. That hair! To be kind, it wasn't that mopish, and she'd already said she'd made a salon appointment before graduation. She even showed the dress she planned to wear. The other girls loved it, mostly because no matter what she wore Tamary wasn't in their league of sexual competition.

I would find out that no other girl in the school was able to be in her league.

"Okay, Wally dearest." She winked. I laughed with the rest of her critics. That made it easy to approach her later.

"Wally? Even joking, if a guy called me that I'd have to punch him out just to prevent anyone from taking it seriously." I grinned.

She looked serious. "Do you really have something to say? I saw you spacing out. It's not as if the lights were off in the seats and on in my eyes."

"First of all, you shouldn't start your speech with a joke." I returned. "I know that seems counter to convention, but in your case humor will distract the students from what you say next."

"How could that be? That's a good joke and everyone else said it came off well. Did you even hear it?"

"You wanted a critique, and I say this without malice. A joke won't work for you because you're not beautiful." Her reaction would be critical to what happened between us later.

My words angered her, visibly, but she spoke carefully. "How does that even matter?"

"Because a joke from a fat girl is not respected in this world, especially not by social-status shitheads like high school students. You need to start with something vicious. You need to sound like a threat. They'll pay attention, and when you do make a joke, they'll relax without dismissing what you say." I stepped closer.

"You're, th-the shithead." She stepped back.

I nodded and stood straight. "I'm sorry to be rude. I do respect you, Tamary. You've got a lot of pluck and resilience and smarts. But am I wrong?"

"Maybe. I don't know, right now. I have to weigh what the others said."

"Do you want to talk about something else?"

"Is that your whole critique, not to start with a joke?"

"There's a lot more of the same rudeness, but I sincerely want you give a great speech."

She stood her ground. "Okay."

I called her "fat" a few more times and said "ugly" but not about her looks, and few other rude things carefully wrapped in genuine, helpful suggestions. I didn't look at her much, trying not to emphasize the insults. I just wanted her to hear me say them. I discovered a good word when I said, "Poser."

"I've heard enough." She stopped me. "Do you think I'm stupid enough to let your insults bound around the auditorium?"

"I thought you'd stop me before I said five sentences."

"Why are you doing this? A last make fun of the fat chick before graduation? Here we are on stage, and yet you wasted a brilliant dissing before empty seats." She snorted. "Shithead".

"I've been called worse." I grinned.

"Yeah, what?"

"Creep, for one thing. It really hurt. I have a lot of pride in my respect for people. Tamary, I'm not here to make fun of you. I'm here because I'd like to make myself available to you."

"What, to hear you call me 'fat?'"

"Or 'impostor', or whatever you-"

Tears flooded her eyes, and she ran off the stage.

I knew I'd made the wrong call. Tamary could handle insults, but that's not how she wanted to submit. I took a different tack the next day. It was a last chance effort.

I waited for her outside our writing class. When she saw me she turned her head away. I stepped between her and the door. "I just want to say, next time I'll tie you up so you can't run away." I turned and walked to my seat.

She didn't look at me again the next day, except for two very curious peeks. I didn't confront her. I'd said what I had to say. After the weekend, I went to class with my writing assignment, confident in its prose. We always read our work aloud. Mine was short and everyone hated it, even though it got some laughs. Tamary didn't laugh. Instead, I saw her suddenly look down at the floor after the opening paragraph.

"Macy T got caught by a carbon fiber ribbon painted red. It cut into her arms and sucked at her wounds. It tore her dance outfit and wrenched her arms together behind her back. It wrapped her ankles and pulled her to her knees. And all the while the stage manager's eyeballs rolled along the ribbon, peeking into skin crevices and sneaking between ripped sequins. She dreamt of the contract she had willingly signed."

My two page 'work' used bondage imagery to tell of a woman rapper's shame for having to sign a one-sided contract with a gatekeeper, not for fame but just a steady job.

Problem was, I don't know shit about rap music, I just thought rap was transgressive, admired by the youths of today. Apparently it's old hat. I didn't account for my class of mostly rich, workaholic, white shitheads. Rap ignorance was the first thing my classmates pounced on. The second was about blatant (and therefore base) eroticism. At one point I said aloud, "Yeah, I don't know crap about rap. I admit it. I just wanted to write something that turned me on. If more of us revealed our desires, more of us might get them satisfied." School was nearing its end, and I didn't give a shit about my reputation.

I left the room before the class ended. I waited across the hall. After the bell, Tamary came out and spotted me. She stared, not stopping. I held up a page of paper. On it I'd scrawled, "I know the truth about you." I waved my head for her to follow me down the hall in the direction opposite she was headed.

"Trust me enough to decide if I'm worth your trust." I said when she caught up to me.

"You have a stupid way of instilling initial trust." She meant the insults.

"That was stupid. If you can forget that, I'll try to be smarter."

"I can't forget it. I know you weren't insulting me, after I thought it over. You were probing. You hit the wrong button first." Tamary was a girl who had bursts of openness. She was typically more shy.

"So the insults did 'work' for you."

"No." She looked to the floor, walking. "Not, that way." She took a deep breath. "But in the way you said the next day…"

"Let's go outside." We skipped our next classes. I led her to a tree near the edge of the school grounds.

"I'm going to twist your arm behind your back and tell you something." I reached out my hand.

She didn't offer hers, but it twitched in my direction. I took it gently and stepped behind her, drawing her arm back. She kept looking at the ground. I could feel her pulse race in her wrist.

I whispered, "You are very smart and knowledgeable and competent and incredibly productive, and you think you've fooled everyone." I twisted her arm until her first wince. Her breaths gasped between stiff pauses. Her body shuddered. I sensed she was crying but not because she was sad or hurt. It was because she was relieved. I was forcing her to abandon false composure, but I didn't tighten my hold any further.

"If I had a length of soft rope, I'd make it very hard for you to move, hard for you to pretend. And after a time I'd make it so tight you couldn't continue the lie that your future would trap you with."

"I can feel something."


"Not good. It hurts. You're tightening it too hard."

I kept my hold exactly as it had been. "Better?"

She squirmed trying to find an easier position. "Maybe you should let go."

"Maybe I should tear one of your tendons." I kept my hold the same. "I've come too far to back down. Now admit it. Admit you're a fraud. Everything you've got came to you. You didn't spend more than minimal effort. The fat in your belly and cheeks and arms prove that you don't deserve the honors given to you."

"I worked. I worked hard!" She argued. "You're really hurting me."

"Listen to your body. Follow the pain into your soul and look under it. It's there, waiting for you, the gremlin of your worthlessness." I grabbed her neck and shook her head a bit. "See it!"

"No. It's not real. You're lying. I-" Her body heaved. It came from her loins. "Aaahh!" She grunted.

"You can feel him tearing at your belly. The pain is worse there, worse than in your arm. You fool. How long can you repress what you really are?"

"H-he's tearing at me! It's fire in me. I can feel him, hurting." Tamary groaned then. Her body was stiffening in my grasp.

My hand at her neck reached down and cupped a breast. I pulled it to one side. "Look deeper, under the fat and procrastination and deceit."

She convulsed. "Oh! Stars! It's in my cunt."

"Damn it, you almost got away. If I only had a rope! That's what you really need. Isn't it?"

Her body fought against my arm lock. Her other arm flailed. She sobbed. "Yeees! Please. But I can't take more. Ooohh!"

I let go. Her arms hugged her body that was wracking with release. She huffed and gasp. "Damn!"

I waited, amazed at what had happened under my supposed control. "But you want more, right Tamary?"

She caught her breath, slowed her shudders, hung her head, and nodded.

"Give me your phone number. I'll text you first. Text me back when you've bought what you need."

"Do you want a blow-job or to fuck me?" She stunned me. I almost went, "Huh?" She explained, "I don't mind. It's a good way to find out if a guy is serious. I've got condoms."

I held my breath, counted to twelve. "You're not ready for that." I bid her leave and walked home.

The next time I spoke with mother, I thought I was teasing her. "Before next week, I'll be staying late at school. I want to tie up some things before graduation."

"If you're not here when we need you, Father may have to take your cell phone away and give you a strict time to be home."

"I'll be sure my chores are done."

"A Mr. Brian Finch called. He said he wanted to offer a summer job at the car dealership."

"How's my college fund, Mom?"

"It might keep you from being completely enslaved to student loans."

"What did you tell him?"

"That's for your father to decide."

"What do you think?"

"I think car salesmen are lamprey sucking on bottom feeders." She smiled. "You'd be perfect for it."

"I would, depending upon the person at the bottom." I patted mom's shoulder and walked confidently to my room.

Father found me there shortly after arriving from work. "Walt, have you been touching your mother inappropriately?"

"In my judgement, no."

He left and took mother into the master.

Mom didn't sit down during dinner.

I got a text message. Tamary had bought twenty five feet. After dinner, I studied on the internet. I texted her back, telling her how many pieces and to what lengths she should cut them. I told her to get the green room key from the drama teacher.

It wasn't a green room proper. It was more like a coat closet with a mirror and a table and chair. It was just big enough for a couple boys or girls to change costumes during a performance in the little theater. However, the pole for hanging coats was strong.

All that day, in school, I practiced tying six critical knots. They had to be secure, comfortable, able to be made uncomfortable, and could be loosened by the victim eventually if something went wrong, unless it went very wrong very quickly. My job was to make sure that didn't happen.

We had to share the theater with a handful of drama students practicing after hours. But the instructor had told them to respect Tamary's privacy in the changing room.

Tamary locked herself in and recited her speech. Actually it was the same bullshit speech she had originally written. The curious quickly lost interest. She was working on a replacement.

I knocked at the door when nobody was in sight. Shave and haircut is still corny but cool. I greeted her with a hug after re-locking the door. I continued to hold her. I peered into her eyes until she looked away. "Bring them to me." I let her fetch the rope. It was red.

"Keep your clothes on." I hefted a short length. It was expensive cloth rope. Tamary was not a girl of much means. This was important to her.

She stopped unbuttoning the top button of her shirt.

"Hold out your hands and put your wrists together." I slipped a handcuff knot over her hands and cinched it tight. I took a similar length and tied a double half hitch around coiled length between her wrists. The other end I pulled over the coat rod and secured her hands until they were cramped against it. Standing, her head didn't quite reach the bottom of the pole.

I took the smallest length and created my own version of a gordian knot. "Now you can't run away or scream." I stuffed the knot into her mouth. I sealed it in with duct tape I had brought for the purpose. "You were so foolish to trust me like this."

Tamary flinched. Her eyes darted back and forth, her mind calculated. I wasn't going to give her any chance to get away. She tried to kick me, but I caught her foot and wrapped a long length around her ankle and thigh. She had to then stand on one leg. Her hands were tied over and behind her head.

"I'm going to slap you now." I warned. She shook her head and blinked. She uttered, "Uhn-uhn." I smacked her forehead like a stooge would to another stooge. "Silly goose. This isn't about physical punishment. This is about you admitting who/what you really are, a fraud."

She shook her head.

"I've had enough of that." I tugged a long piece of duct tape and cut it. I planted the middle around her chin and twisted the ends up way past her ears. I took a short length of rope, ran it around her bound wrists and tied square knots to the twists. This forced her head back against her arms.

"Now you'll listen to the truth. I told the drama teacher about you. He agreed that this was what you deserved. Why do you think you got the key so easily?" I lied. I grabbed her back with both hands and crushed my belly against her tits. I spoke in her left ear. "You're a liar and a sneak."


My arms wrapped around her fully and my embrace held her more firmly than rope. "He wanted to fuck you, but he couldn't risk it. I bet, though, if I brought him in here he couldn't resist. Rope make you as sexy as you'll ever get. He'll like your whimpering too." I bit her ear.

Tamary cried but not from pain. I hadn't bitten hard. She knew I was lying. She could believe that I wasn't. What if the drama teacher found her trussed like a delicacy hanging in an abattoir? What if he tore her clothes in the right places and mauled her? What if he pulled out a dark dick and spewed seed into her belly? My fantasies were starting to get the best of me. I focused my thoughts on her chest.

For a short fat girl, her breasts were slightly more than a handful. Their size was hard to gauge through her wire bra and shirt. Our bodies pressed together, her tits mashed into my lowest ribs. I dug my fingers into her back. "Think, woman. You deserve to be locked up, trussed up, hung on a public lamppost. The world hates posers and pretenders. Don't try to forgive yourself, or it'll go twice as hard against you. Accept your guilt and repent. Feel your resistance fade. The rope clings tighter, to squeeze out your deceit. I clutched her against me as hard as I could. "Let go of pride."

Her next reaction was strong. I barely held on to her. She had resisted as long as she could. Her nose beat air in and out. Her torso wrenched in my grip. I moved my hands down to her ass and lifted her. She was pretty heavy. I forced her legs apart with my crotch between. "Wrap your free leg around my thigh, you fake, or I'll tell another teacher - how about our honors writing instructor?"

Her leg gripped behind my knee. She was a strong girl. I nearly lost my balance. Her crotch bucked into mine as if we were fucking. I had a painful hardon, and her dry humps grated my briefs against it.

"Think I could convince him to make you write the truth about yourself, make you read it aloud in class? Maybe that's what you should read for graduation." I licked her neck and raked my teeth across it. Biting down I held her like a duck. I felt like I was trying to suffocate a 140 pound salmon by keeping it above the water she could escape into.

She kicked the back of my thigh with her heel. It was involuntary, the only physical piece that could express her mental turbulence. Was she facing her fear? Did her body recoil from or revel in guilt? Were the kicks diminutive echoes of explosions wracking her with pleasure? I felt a powerful groan erupt from her torso, rush through her lungs, and rumble her gag.

"Uuunnnggghhh!" Her eyes rolled into the top of her head. Her entire body convulsed. I wanted to cum. I'm pretty sure she had.

I'm pretty sure she did again when I explained, "Cumming is like a lie detector. Your body tells you the truth. Accept what you are, impostor! Greet your lies with lust and bed down with them. They will make you cum again and again."

I seated her crotch on my right thigh and bounced her. "I'll let you go, if you can stop cumming like a bondage slut." I wanted to rip our pants off and fuck her proper. I knew her purse had condoms. But this was our first time. I had to be cautious. After separating and straightening my clothes, I untied Tamary. I supported her, preventing her from slumping to the floor. I limped her to the chair and sat down. She knelt beside me, pressing her cheek against my stomach and breathing heavily.

"That w-was, sooo wrong."

"You can make it right." I unsnapped my jeans, unzipped them, and pulled them and my briefs to my knees. My hard cock caught musty air. She took it in one hand and drooled purposefully over it. When her mouth sucked me inside her throat, I worried about instantly filling it. Maybe she did too. She reached for her purse, cock stuffed into her cheeks, and filched a condom. Head bobbing, she unwrapped it. Her hands snuggled latex over my cock head in the instant her mouth relinquished and reacquired it.

I was overjoyed at my fate. This short, overweight, semi-athletic, braniac was the best cocksucker. She bound me with oral pleasure. Her hands were deft as pussy lips, and her mouth was a vaginal maw in need of hot spunk. Tamary sucked two loads from my balls into two condoms and left me hard. She reached for a third.

I thought we were going to fuck, until the drama professor knocked at the door. "Tamary, are you still in there?"

"Yes, Mr. Durst." She gulped. "I'm just making some changes."

"Heh, that's what the room's for. You can drop the key in my desk drawer."

We gathered our belongings. Tamary peeked out the door while I hid in back. She locked me in but returned when the coast was clear. It might have been a long wait except I was floating the entire time. Gods, I hadn't realized how much I would enjoy a good cum after tying and pleasuring a woman! And more joy looked like a sure thing for the last weeks of school.

Away from the auditorium, I told her, "We can't do this every day, but if you want to work on your new speech at my place, I'd enjoy your company."

"That's not a good idea. I have a boyfriend in college."

That didn't stop us from meeting in the changing room twice a week and hanging her up like maggot covered beef. It did stop me from wanting to fuck her for some reason.

During the stupid graduation ceremony, my mother and father sat dutifully. I chatted with friends in my row, and we sneaked a joint around. A couple flask bottles shuffled hither-thither. I passed it to the girl next to me when Tamary Benton strolled up to the podium and grabbed it with both hands. She yelled into the mike.

"One of you amazing kids at this glorious high school tied me up in a closet and forced me to see something of the truth of this world. I'm going to pay you back, right now, in front of all of you sick, beautiful people just to make sure I get the right one. I know who they are, and by they I mean one person who's sex will not be revealed. I don't see where they're sitting, but I can feel the ropes still biting into my wrists and ankles." She held up her arms and bared them.

"Thank you! You can't see the marks that I earned, like you can't see what it took to earn the privilege to speak up here. But I earned it all! I worked and I socialized and I took a lot of shit and gave it back and I was hurt and I found some happiness. Everyone of you should strive for it all, good and bad, until you know what you really need. I haven't found perfect fulfillment, but a tight knot is a good start!"

Faculty dragged Tamary off the platform. We, the graduating class, jumped and cheered! We nearly rioted our way out of the stadium, until we were on our own. be continued...
Chapter 4

I never saw Tamara again. She didn't respond to my one text congratulating her. After thinking about it, that probably wasn't what she wanted from me.

Mother pouted. Dad had actually laughed in public. It was like she'd never known the man, and she blamed me. In a bizarre form of punishment, she started wearing lipstick. It was blatant. She applied a deep red pigment to her cumulus lips, weekdays while Father was at work.

One day, her father caught her wearing it. I was given twenty dollars (to see a movie), excused from the house, and locked out. The only thing I wanted to watch was what happened between them. I put my ear against every curtained window. From the bathroom, I heard sharp blows against flesh. I didn't hear mother cry out. She must have been gagged. I was out of sight enough to risk masturbating. My cum sprayed against aluminum siding. Her father was still whacking mother as my dick shrank back to out-of-the-way size. I realized then that Grandpa hadn't said a word. It wasn't as if he had been gagged. My imagination said that he had built a psychic link to emotionally abuse Mom while he beat her. My imagination made me want to paint the house siding again.

It was a ridiculous thought, in so many ways, but I enjoyed every minute of it. Actually, from the time I first heard them, to when mother's dad stopped her punishment, less than five minutes passed. I returned two hours later. Mother's lipstick looked fresher than ever. She wiped it off before Father returned. The next morning, her deep red lips cradled my cock between them and rocked, in my mind. My dreamy wank soaked three tissues.

I learned early that getting off by myself was the best way to deal with seemingly constant sexual arousal. Once I'd cum, my mind could be rational for a few hours. I could be the power I hoped to become. Desire is the downfall of domination, until you learn to harness it. I was still learning, and it was a lesson made harder, after Dad had gone to work, when mother deliberately waited for me to wander by the kitchen before she picked up her lipstick and slowly stroked that oxygenated blood across her lips.

I took the auto sales job. It paid minimum wage plus commission. My percentage was probably half of what the other sales staff earned. It would be short term and wouldn't pay enough for a year of textbooks. But it would get me out of the house for the summer.

"No, I want the young guy." Said a blond in a blue tube dress covering her, neck to ankles. It was as if a sunlit sky had tracked me down. Her naked arms were bronze like her face that was framed with a 70's fluffed, golden mane. Said speaker twisted in her woven silk skin, away from the point salesman, my boss, and slinked up to where I stood like a cardboard poster child for suicide prevention.

"Gina sent me." The sparkle in her eyes hinted something between crocodile and supernova. The energy inside this woman, maybe 30, crackled louder than the florescent lights flooding the latest model cars destined to a junkyard in five years. Maybe it was the sound of her skin stoking static into her dress. In darkness, she would have lit up like a Van De Graaff generator.

"Well, Mmm-"

"Miss," She interrupted - her smirk intact. "Corrin."

"Miss Corrin, how may I help you?" I took a deep breath. Gina, huh. I decided she wanted to break me. I also decided this woman probably would.

"Sell me car to me." Her eyes, a hair higher than my own, suggested a gargoyle's disapproval. She waved a naked arm as if in a breeze and teetered. The ax fell to her right. "That one."

"I can sell that to you." I didn't look. I was new to the showroom, but the beast she wanted was unforgettable, an ex-military vehicle converted to commercial standards. "But you'll be back in a week, returning it."

"I don't mind the loss. What will I buy when I return?"

"The family sedan, in gray."

"I hate gray."

"Only the gray model has premium leather."

"I'll get leather from a third party, for my pick." Miss Corrin was ready to dismiss me. Her eyes withered from boredom. I didn't care as much about hers as I did about the eyes my boss drilled me with. I had to sell this woman for all she was worth.

"They won't cheat you as much as I can."

Everyone in the room heard a pamphlet drop.

Miss Corrin dripped, blond dye to green toenail polish. "Where do I sign?"

"I'll phone our financer." I didn't dare leave the woman or even her fixed gaze. I had to voice dial, to keep from glancing at the screen.

"Helen, here."

"I have a customer ready to write a check. Bring the sale slip for the Lurch floor model. She's willing to pay 128 thousand."

Maxed out, the Lurch XL Extreme, carried to your doorstep by vestal virgins, cost 114k brand spanking new. This floor model had languished for seven months, with nine hundred test miles on it (mostly from staff joyrides).

Helen's high heels were M-80s exploding across the floor tiles, until she reached the showroom. She clicked up to us and presented Miss Corrin with a clipboard. "We'll fill out your information, later." She took a picture of the customer's drivers license. She accepted the signed check. Helen clicked out of the room.

"What a dreary, little old lady." Miss Corrin turned to examine her purchase.

"I'm sorry. I can't sell this to you." I pulled the paperwork from Miss Corrin's hand and tore it in half. "We are a fine team of professionals here. I can't accept abuse against one my mates." Halves swooped to the floor.

"Allow me, Mis-" My boss launched himself between us.

But she had already turned away. "See that that boy gets a bonus." Her sensible sandals shuffled off like a blues 45 in a Wurlitzer.

My boss gave half a syllable of firing me. "Yyyy."

"I'll leave now." I exited quickly.

My walk home was interrupted. An Italian job that put the Lurch's price into a toy catalog, passed me, huffing its pipes. Its soft tires ground against asphalt. The carbon fiber body thrust a gull wing door up. A hand reached out and offered a middle finger. I walked past, head forward.

"Dreary? Really? I wouldn't have cared, if you'd called her a hag."

"Get in."

I stopped walking. "Get out."

The rumbling hum expired.

"I never expected to see a rental tag on one of those." I nodded appreciatively.

"Specialty rental. My company can afford it."

"You probably couldn't have afforded the sedan with vinyl seats."

"Give me some credit, young man. I'm debt free."

"And Gina is just a name my mother told you."


"Gina wouldn't have recommended the dealership she works at." It had occurred to me during my walk.

"Call me Corrin, please?"

"Your first name." I stepped into the car, where I had to nearly lay down to fit its low profile. "Call me Walter. And how do you close this door?"

She entered her side and flipped a switch. The door chewed its way down. The tinted windows left us in gloom. "There's not enough room in here." Her breasts rose and fell. Static electricity tinkled around them.

"There's room enough to slap your pretty face." I told her politely.

"But not to take your arm up my ass."

"That's a thing?" I almost gasp at my stupid words.

"Walter, why do you think I'm here?"

"Because Mother is testing me."

"She's afraid of you."

"She's not afraid of her father, and my father is afraid of him."

"Your father is... not quite what you think."

"Oh, is this where Lord Vader says my grandfather is my father?"

"Really?" Corrin stiffened.

"I guess not." I can't say I was disappointed. I love my dad.

She smiled then. "Your father is a charlatan."

I ignored her. "Why are you here?"

"Because Lisa said you would amuse me."

"Why do I not believe you are the rich trash bitch you've been playing at?"

"You haven't amused me yet." She snorted a laugh. "That was funny, though." She started the car and drove me to her house on top of a hill in the city. We spent most of our time together discussing appropriate lubrication.

Before dinner, she dropped me home, eyeballs still sweating. My arm was a bit bigger than she was accustomed to. Amuse. Abuse. They might as well be the same word.

Mother's lips were plain and cold. "Thank you for phoning that you would be late."

"Walter, my food is getting cold." Father called from the dining table.

Mother and I seated ourselves. She seemed disappointed. She did enjoy the food she had prepared. I thought it was her best meal ever.

Father, his plate empty, rose and carried his dishes to the sink. He ran water over them and placed them into the dishwasher. "Lisa, Walter, please hand wash and dry the rest.

Dad sat in his chair, reading Dostoyevsky. We clinked china and glass and bumped elbows.

"Has Father lied to you?" I whispered.

She shook her head. I think she might have worried that I was being indiscreet. Whispering in the house was a federal offense.

I waited until the soapy water had drained and the faucet sang with clean flow. "Cheated?"

Mother handed her drying towel to me and left the room.

"Mother, you should finish what I asked." Father pounced.

She didn't return to the sink.

He left his book beside his chair, stood up, and pounced again.

I did not see them again that night.

Corrin texted right as I was drifting off to sleep.

"It still hurts."

The next day I learned I was not fired. I walked to work. Helen was waiting for me in the sales office.

"Thank you, Walter. In all my years, I've never heard a decent word from our lamprey."

"Careful, maybe I'm trying to suck some of your blood."

"It's not doing me much good, these days."

Helen was not old. Maybe she was fifty something. Her hair was colored white, but thankfully without the blue tint that keeps elderly husbands up all night. Pudgy, short, smart as three crows, Helen could account for 1000 ships. Her blood was more iron than plasma. "Did the check bounce?"

"I didn't bother with it. Here." She handed it to me. "I signed it over to you, as a momento."

I'd been to Corrin's house. She just might have $128,000 dollars in her checking account.

"Here's the one I cashed." She held up a photocopy. It showed the price of one gray sedan with premium leather.

My boss had sold it to Miss Corrin at the crack of dawn. I was listed on the bill of sale as an assist. "I insisted." Helen barked. "Son of a bitch! He would have left you hung to dry."

"Maybe I deserved that."

"You deserved this." An assist commission was a tenth of what the primary salesperson earned.

I didn't sell a car that day. Not for a week.

Corrin picked me up at the end of the week and took me for a spin in her new car. The right fender had a scratch. "You?"

"With a picture nail. Can't get too proud; might loose my reputation."

"With who?"

She was silent for a moment. "Your arm is too big for me."

We found something else that fit her better. I came in her ass three times that night. Whenever she pulled the vibrating Pocahontas from her pussy and begged me to fuck her proper, I pushed the device back inside her. I decided then and there. I was saving myself.

She decided, if I wasn't going to play fair, I shouldn't be playing at all.

I sold two cars the following week. I tried not to boast when I told father.

"Shitty job, Walter. You're wasting yourself."

"It's just a summer job. I have enough saved for college."

"Have you decided which?"

"Yes. The state university."

"So you'll move to the capital? You won't be able to afford rent."

"Not the first year. I'm mean, Sir, I won't move until the second year. I'm going to take classes locally, ones that transfer, but I'll be fully signed up for State."

"If you continue to live here, I'll require you to stop working. I want you to study not waste your time."

"Will many of your friends from last year be around?" Mother asked.

"Cheryl, I think." It was the only name I was going to give Mother. Corrin had spilled a few beans as well as lubrication, in our last session. I was still mulling them over.

"You will stop working, then. Understood?" Father insisted.

"I will, Sir." Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Mother blink.

"Mom? May I call Grandfather over tomorrow? It's my day off."

"It's your father's house, Walter."

As I expected. Father hadn't said anything. Very interesting.

I spoke with Grandpa before tucking myself into bed.

"I may have something that you would like." I hinted.

"Don't be mysterious, Walter. I don't do mystery." He wasn't coming over.

"Her name is Corrin."

"I've met her." My grandfather's arms were larger than mine. "You don't have anything then."

"I mean, I can convince her."

"That, I would like to see."

I called Corrin the next morning and asked her to set work aside for the day. She had an office in her home that put our mayor's to shame. It was a conference enabled workspace connected to a satellite data transceiver. Miss Corrin consulted with big boys.

"They're all little boys." I met her in front of the house at noon. "Hello, Grandfather."

"Corrin. My grandson says we might have an arrangement."

"Your grandson is a cheeky brat."

"He's too grown to discipline."

"Are you?" I asked him.

"Walter. Let's go inside and fire up that alien shooter."

"Corrin," I had no choice but to take a big risk. It's not as if I'd expected the two to jump in her backseat for a quickie. "I'm going to discipline you. Grandfather is going to evaluate me."

"The fuck-?" Grandpops lost a microsecond of cool.

"Okay. That's pretty fucking kinky." The peak of her delight surprised me.

"The hell, it is."

"Shut up, Grandfather." It was my last card.

"Is this where I laugh and everyone laughs and we drive out together for lunch?" It was his
voice he used to talk down to Mother.

"No, Sir. Corrin will drive us to her house, where I will direct her to satisfy you."

All I needed was a two second pause. I got one and a half.

"There's a big problem you've forgotten. I don't perform in front of anyone, even a director."

Ulp! Our family placed privacy above that of crime families. I had forgotten. I didn't have two seconds to respond.

"Then I'll direct her from another room."

"If you can't see what I'm doing..." Corrin snorted disbelief.

"I don't have to, if you do exactly as you're told." I gave my best Stonewall Jackson face to my grandfather.

"I can only imagine a failing grade, but is your word your bond?"

"It is, Sir."

"I'm not the sort of parent who dashes foolish dreams." Why waste his effort when my dreams would likely dash upon me.

We did go together for lunch. Grandfather paid. I think he wanted to test my nerves. I could hear them rattling, in that smooth riding car, before and after lunch. She drove into her garage and stopped the engine.

"Greet your master, Slave." I started.

"Welcome to my-"

"Again!" I interrupted.

"Welcome to another of your homes, Master Anthony." She opened her door. Shut it carefully, crabbed right to the passenger door and opened it. She bowed until Grandfather extracted himself. He rolled his eyes at me.

I exited the car without fanfare. "Invite him inside."

"Allow me to usher-"

"Cut the crap, Walter." Grandpa probably killed an entire grade point then.

"Corrin, go inside and get ready, for anything."

"I never did like cheese ball." Grandpa shook his head. There might have been a slight smile for a millisecond.

He hadn't been to this house. Corrin was not as accomplished when he'd first played with her. I served instead of a lowly slave. I felt far lower.

"I know I should put you two in the master bedroom, but the den has the right weirdness." For a lusty wench, Miss Corrin's bedroom is as boring as a tea cosy. She has an erotic statue in the den, but it's the only one and is tasteful. I doubt her terabytes of personal cloud servers host anything a Cardinal would consider pornographic. She keeps her cache of play toys in the den's floor safe. The leather 5 piece is treated with a special oil, for easy cleaning. I added, "You wouldn't hear me from the bedroom, anyway."

"I don't want to hear you." My grandfather grumbled.

I had anticipated that much. "Corrin, be sure to wear something with a waistband. I hollered." We didn't have to wait long. I would have lost another grade point if we had.

She descended the staircase in a classic babydoll. It's hem danced at pussy height, teasing glimpses of a trim, golden bush. (she had dyed it too) For contrast, she sported a white garter belt and transparent, white stockings. She had even rouged her cheeks. "Daddy?" She looked at my grand old man.

I went to her and whispered. "Not sure what to think of your improvisation." I had her phone and earbuds. Incredibly, the colors matched her virginal garb. "Wear these. It's running an app that lets me speak from my phone to yours." Duh. She wanted to say. She curtsied instead. I rolled my eyes and gave Grandpa a parting smile. His own, slight one surprised me.

My communication range was limited, especially through a wall. I walked around the corner, into the laundry room. "If you can hear me, beg the old man to let you pleasure him."

"Anthony, I've thought about you, and what you did to me several years ago."

"You forgave me for that?"

"Never, but I mind it less now. Maybe I need to be reminded."

Gee. Did I even need to say anything.

"Mind what you're doing then, girl."

I didn't catch his meaning right away. Two seconds of silence spurred me. "Approach him with eyes down, chin up, Corrin. Take his clothes off as he allows." Should I suggest smalltalk? "Kiss his buttons before unfastening them." I was improvising now. I felt like an idiot. How did I know what kind of foreplay my grandfather liked?

"He tell you to do that?"

I heard her hum. Couldn't tell which way.

"Continue." Grandfather sighed.

"Bite him. I don't care where and not softly."

"Shit!" He cried out.

"Tell him, you did that."

"I get to enjoy some of this too." She told him.

"Pick up the crop I set on the computer desk. Hand it to him. Offer your ass."

I knew she liked a light whipping, but Grandfather had only heavy cream.

SMACK! I didn't know a crop could bellow like that. I've only heard them crack.

"Hey! That-" WHAP! "OOWW!!"


"Bite me, will you, cunt?"

"No, I- He-"

"Shut the fuck up!" I cried into my phone.

"No... master!" SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!


I let her rest for five seconds after the last swat landed. It was worth losing a half a grade point. I was the party responsible.

"Uninspiring." Grandfather spoke. I imagined not to her.

"Take his hand and let him feel your wetness."

"You think I care about your tears?"

"Not your face!"

"That's better, little woman. You're warmed right up."

"His dick better be out. If not, make it so." The last thing I wanted to imagine was my Grandfather's tool. I thanked our family's privacy standard with all my heart. More gross, I had to decide if she should suck on it right away or fondle it first.

"Nuzzle him. On your knees, if you're not already there."

"He must have liked something that she was doing. Grandfather took charge."

"Turn around. No. Keep me in your mouth and flip like a steak in a pan." After a few seconds of bodies contorting, he mumbled. "Where were those clamps..."

"It's okay. I set the screws to a mild position. Even if he adjusts them, he might be in a hurry-"

"FHUUGHH!!!!" She screamed onto my grandfather's rampant prick. Her second scream was loud and clear.

"I don't know what that boy's telling you, but I'm the man you listen too, pussycat."

"No. Please. Not there!" Corrin wailed. Her third shriek could have broken champaign flutes.

"You think those bite." His voice deepened from one-sided merriment. "I need to taste some things."

My role shifted from director to counselor. "You can survive this, Corrin. You can say no, even. If you have to escape, do it. But hold on as long as you can. Please. I'll even fuck you proper, if you still want that."

She cried hard enough to quiet a smoke alarm.

Grandfather gloated, "That was good enough to have more."

Corrin cursed and yelled. She must have flailed around, in my grandfather's devouring grip. Items crashed in the room.

"I'll come in there, Corrin. Just yell my name. I'll stop him, however. I promise."

"Don't run from me, Bitch!" Grandfather hollered. Corrin yelped and then she barked like a dog. Was he beating her again?

"Is he fucking you?" In the ass? She made sounds I recognized.

Fuck. Grandfather must have been giving it to her like a locomotive. She didn't stop barking.

I wanted to pull on my prick, adjust its tight length in my pants. I listened and listened. Corrin never called my name.

Five minutes later, Grandfather reproached. "Walter."

I turned off my phone, and hung my head. "Coming, Grandpa." This was failure and humiliation. Not. At. All. Fun.

I entered Corrin's den, greeted with applause. Four hands spanked me, virtually. The two adults lounged on the couch, her phone between them. They shared its ear buds. Their grins were swords of Damocles. Was she eating a chocolate? He thunked the crop against the leather armrest.

I had been played. "Good one." I turned to leave them, she still dolled up, grandfather with every stitch of his sturdy clothes adorning him. My dream dashed upon me.

"Take yourself outside, Walter. Get some air. You need to cool down, for at least an hour."

I got his hint. My entire plan to impress my grandfather had only hurled me into a cesspit.

He said to my receding back, "You don't need grades to know if you're any good, at anything."

An hour later, it was my turn to sit Corrin's house. She had dressed to drive Grandfather home. He told her to chauffeur me separately. He would square it with my mother.

"You mean my father?" I asked politely.

Grandfather scrunched up his face at me. "Doesn't he know by now?" He told his escort.

"I gave him enough hints." Corrin shook her head and lead my Grandfather out of her house. She limped in a familiar pattern.

What was it about my father?

She'd called him a charlatan. She'd also said that he had disappointed his parents, and they'd abandoned him. I figured if he were as bent as I, his parents were the stretch of the sexual ignorance bell curve flinging hatred.

Corrin had said his parents told him he didn't deserve to be called a man. Just how harsh were they?

That left Grandpa's clues. He'd agreed to let Father marry Mother, as long as Mother agreed.

I couldn't stop puzzling over it. When Corrin returned to fetch me home, I was still puzzled.

We were silent until she parked in front of my home and I emerged. "So." She called out from her side of the car. I walked to my front door, listening. "When do you want to get together for that fuck?"

If Dad had heard, I was in for a painful evening. The curtain shifted.

I sighed and put my key in the lock. Corrin drove away.

I entered an empty living room. "Father?" In my head, I heard him answer, "We are not in competition."

"He's not here, Walter." Mother was in the kitchen.

I found her typing on her laptop. The machine was still booting.

"Dad's a woman, Mom. Isn't she?"

"He." be concluded...
Chapter 5

"When did you learn about him?"

"Your father never lied to me."

"Where is he?" It was supper time.

"Father called him away."

"You were going to tell me."

Mother smiled. "I'm glad I didn't have to."

"How-?" It was the hardest question.

"You know about stem cells. They can become sperm cells."

"That's not legal."

"Not yet. The country where you were conceived was more like an enclave of mad scientists."

"You're getting too comic book on me, Mom."

She smiled again. I loved her smile. It was all too rare. "You were not an experiment. The procedure was proven safe several years before we paid to conceive you." Her smile waned. "I used to love comic books."

"Did father tell you to grow up?" He'd told me that, when I was thirteen.

"I still read them." She tapped her laptop. "But I don't love them as much."

"Do you really let him rule you?"

"Of course, Walter. I promised him."

"Because you love him?"

She quieted. "I love you. That was our deal."

"You wanted a child, and you wanted to be able to work."

"That's right." She ran a finger over her touchpad. An app launched, code editor. She was itching for it.

"No, Mother." I pulled her finger from the pad. "I have a million questions."

"There's only one question you need, and you have to answer it. Do you love your father?"

I released Mother's finger. "Yeah." All other questions were worthless.

"Wait. I can't help it. You gotta tell me. Is he really your sex partner?"

"That's private, Walter. I won't tell him you asked." She shook her shoulders and rubbed her neck." She wanted to get back to work.

"Is Grandfather your sex partner?"

"Walter. I'm not going to be patient with you."

I'd lost. I'd never know how my mother really felt about how the 'men' in her home could treat her. "Um- Am I your sex partner?" I felt like I was about to pee in my pants. I was terrified.

"Make yourself dinner, Walter." She examined her code.

Father arrived later that night. I was studying for a special exam that might merit a college subsidy. He passed my door.

"Good night, Walter."

"Good night, -" I started to cry.

I was wiping my eyes when Mother knocked. "Walter, your father is very upset."

"I'm sorry." I wanted to cry again.

"We'll talk in the morning."

I couldn't sleep. I went out for a midnight walk around the neighborhood, against Father's curfew. I didn't return until four in the morning. I stayed up, reading an online manual for submissives. It was shit. I woke up, head on my desk, at a knocking.

"Come to the breakfast table, Walter." Father called.

Bleary, weary, heartsick, and scared, I stumbled into the dining area.

"Walter, you'll leave for college next week. Your mother and I will pay for your housing."


"I can't be anyone but who I am, Walter. You need time and space to figure out how to process my birth sex."

"I can manage. I-I will manage, F-father."

He shook his head.

"Sweetheart, your father has decided."

I slammed my hand on the table. "I haven't."

Dad leaped up. "I can order you out of my house this minute, Son."

"You can. Father." I couldn't face him. "But then you'll lose Mother, too."

Three individuals struggled with individual thoughts.

"We have an agreement. You don't understand." Father began.

"I understand, if you don't let her love me, you break that agreement."

"I don't have to live with you, to love you, Son." Mother backed him.

"Try it, Mom. I'm not the one with something to lose." Both of them did.

"Emotional blackmail is the worst, Walter. I didn't think you capable."

"I didn't think I was a freak!" I broke down again. I slumped in my chair and bawled.

Arms quickly hugged me. "You don't believe that."

"I've thought I was a freak since I first wanted to fuck you."

Father exploded. "Out of my house! Out! Out! We'll send your things."

Mother could have calmed him. "Go, Son. I'll call your grandfather."

"I'm not going!" I threw off Mother's arms. I stood up to my dad. "I would go, if you loved me."

She shook her head. "I will drag you out."

"Ed!" Mother shot his name.

"I will fuck you!" I pointed at him. "I will rape you, until you break."

Mother cracked my plate over my head. The memory of warm eggs crawling down my face was my last.

My first was a warm lap. "That's a doozy of a hen's egg on your noggin, Walter."

"Grandpa, why do I have a cock?"

"The hell you ask?"

"If mom and dad are females, why do I have a prick?"

"Oh." Grandfather wasn't much of a scientist. He'd earned his money the easy way, cheating stupid people.

"Your mother was raped, Walter, by your other grandfather."

Oh no.

"When your father began dating Lisa, she didn't know. He was already estranged from his parents. Ed doesn't like to admit his birth sex. He hates women."

"But he's a lesbian."

"Themz jus' werds."

"He didn't hide his sex. Lisa just assumed. Hell, I would have too." Grandfather hated to admit imperfection. "Lisa was a big nerd, at the time. A man who treated her like a woman was exciting. The other nerds treated her as if she didn't have tits or a cunt. They all wanted to fuck her, but she was more goddess than women to them."

"Mom and Dad dated, but didn't have sex."

"At first. When Ed came out to her as transgendered, Lisa freaked out."

"How did they get back together?"

"Lisa freaked out with curiosity. She took to sex with Ed like a lab rat to cocaine. It was Ed who was fooled. He even bragged to his parents, that he was more of a man than his father, who was then divorced.

"That piece of shit father came after Ed like a vengeful god. He ambushed him and my daughter." Grandpa paused. His fists clenched knuckles white. "He's still in prison, double counts of attempted murder.

"Ed wanted Lisa to abort."

"That's when Lisa offered her deal?"

"That's right. I told her she was foolish. She's no lesbian. I asked her to amend her deal."

"You wanted her to have sex with men." I gulped. "With you."

"I don't enjoy sex with your mother, Walter. It's not right. It is her only outlet."

"Don't lie." I smiled. "You love whipping her like your wife."

"Yes. I love that. She loves it too. So did Ursula. But when she begs me to fuck her, I don't get off. I might as well be a vibrator. If I haven't already cum, I go home and jerk off to a porno." I'd never seen my Grandfather embarrassed.

"How long was I out?"

"Long enough. Look around."

My things were heaped in Grandfather's study. He'd moved some of his out, to make room for them and a trundle bed. He was sitting on it. I lay across it with my head on his lap. "How long can I stay?"

"Until I'm sure you don't have a concussion. Never declare rape, in front of your mother."

"I was overwrought. How much of an apology do I owe?"

"To me? A big one. To your dad, nothing will pull that hurt out of him."


"She moved into my room."


"She's worried sick about you."

I tried to get up.

"She won't see you. Not yet."

Words left me. I hugged Grandfather's knee.

Eventually, I slept. It had been dark when I came to. It was light when I awoke, alone.

I patted my head and winced. Mom's stoneware must have been made of granite. Looking around, I made plans. I tackled the heap closest to me. Eventually, I found my cell phone. It was dead. Later, I found the charger. I finished sorting and stowing and left, phone plugged in. "Grandpa?"

"Here." He was in his apartment's living room. It was a two bedroom. The second was his study. Now it was a bedroom again, for an unknown time.

"Where's Mom?"

"She's at your dads."

"How are they?"

"Check the internet. How should I know?" He rattled his thin newspaper.

Grandfather lived several miles from home. If I left now, I might walk there by lunch. Maybe there was a bus. Grandfather rarely invited me to his home. We always hung out at my- I stopped for a teary moment.

"How's your head?"

"Still stupid."

"Good. I'll get my leeches out when you're feeling smart again."

"That may take a while."

"Why do I doubt that?"

"What can I make to eat?"

"Salad. It's already made, and shriveling in the refrigerator."

Mom's work, no doubt. Grandpop like hamburgers, buns, and mustard. He distrusted pickles because they were green, not because they weren't delicious, garlic ones at least.

I ate the whole bowl. "What's your wifi info?"

"Sorry!" I saved myself from his answer. The internet was worse than pickles, to Grandpa.

His cable had internet, but he'd asked the service tech to switch off the wifi. I searched my room for a data cord. Mother had packed my things, lumped together as they had been. There was a wire for every available standard, going back three generations of data connectors.

I hunkered into the living room, plopped down beside the cable box and plugged my netbook into porn paradise. Actually, I wanted to email work and half of the women I'd dominated successfully and otherwise. I claimed illness. They might not hear from me for the rest of summer. My parents were at odds, and I might have to move to college.

I was reading the same news online that Grandpa had folded an hour before. He was puttering in his bedroom. A key turned in the front door. Mother stepped in.

"Walter." She looked at me, worried clearly. About what, unclear. She walked past me, "Father?" She closed the bedroom door behind her.

My brain couldn't help but think they were in need of a hot session, but I knew better. They were talking about me and Father and what was to be done. I wished they had been fucking. That was easier for me to deal with.

An hour later, they emerged, Grandfather leading. "Walter, stand up. Your legs must be asleep." He was right. I wobbled to my feet. Insects flooded my calves and thighs. Mother stood beside him. It was time for a talk.

"I'll do whatever you suggest." I granted.

"Your Grandfather is going to rape you." Mother spoke.

I bit my lip. "Mom, I have never been more stupid-"

"Don't ever be that much, ever again!" She cried.

"Hate me. I deserve it."

"Walter, shut up." Grandfather calmed. "We're going to talk about your Father."

"Ed refuses to let you back home." Mother said. "I've asked him for a divorce."

"You're not a minor. So that won't take long." Grandpa added. "Money isn't a problem. Your Mom's savings will keep her in furs and slave boys until she's in the grave next to me. Your college fund will be doubled. Don't think that'll make it easy. Tuition climbs every year."

"H-how can this have happend? Why so fast? What's the hurry?" I felt increasingly frantic!


"This is serious, Walter. It wasn't just you. Ed has been too comfortable, too long. Your mother's deal prevented her from wising him up when it might have helped."

"You honestly stuck to that deal, for all of my life, like a knight in armor?" Who was the stupid one? "I thought it was a strong rule of thumb."

"This may come as a shock to you, Walter, but a sexual pact has to be followed to the letter. It's the ultimate negotiation."

"The problem with Ed was, he never allowed your mother to discuss adjusting their agreement to cope with the changes in their lives."

"...because a man doesn't suffer the conniving of women." I looked at Grandpa.

"I said it. I've spent my time in the stupid room, too." He exhaled through his snout like a tea kettle.

"Walter. What's important right now is, what do you want?" Mother implored.

I wanted to get off the merry-go-round. "I want to be with you." I stared. She had never looked more beautiful, free, powerful. "And Grandpa."

"Thanks." He snorted.

"Mom. What do you want?"

Finally, there was calm in Grandfather's apartment.

"I want to love you and work." She never relented, after all my years.

"And Grandpa?"

She laughed. "And Father."

"Idiots! In my house. The one thing you can't call pest control for."

That was the lightest moment. For the rest of the day and evening, we hashed out a new deal, not a sexual one. Mother and I would live with Anthony until the end of summer. I would move to the capital, to a dorm, and Mother would get her own apartment there. Grandpa would visit us when he could. Mother offered to buy him a train pass. He refused.

I imagined he would see more of Corrin. Maybe Cheryl would pick my college and continue our times together. She'd been hinting. For companionship, Mother was a heap of trouble and joy for anyone who met her. Just one dating website would keep her in hot hetrosex for the rest of her vagina's warrantee. There was a wide world of opportunity for everyone.

Father hired a divorce lawyer.

I ended up selling used cars. Grandfather lives in a convalescent home, strapped into his bed at night to keep him from spanking nurses. There is a court order preventing Mother from using a computer. We shared Grandpop's old apartment, impoverished by law.

I still love my Father. He raised me to be strong willed and fair minded. I like my job. I don't screw customers. They come to me after the internet tells them, my word is my bond. I hired Gina to make sure I never sold junk. She's became a partner, married and a mother of two.

I can't forgive my Father though. He answers my texts, sometimes, but won't answer our phone calls. He says no one is to blame. Apparently, he's already dating. I wondered if Bette knows. I won't tell her. I do blame, Father. He could have kept his dog leashed but didn't. His lawyer was certain that Mother had cheated her every penny from Ed, because she hated transexuals. At least that's how he sold her to the jury.

She'd used Father's identity to conduct her business, because he was the master of the house. It was a big crime, though. She avoided prison, but was banned from the work she loved.

Grandpa had a stroke, when he was seventy eight, three years after the trial. I worked as hard as I could to pay the bills. Corrin set up a trust for his convalescence. We wouldn't accept a dime from her, but she did it behind our backs. That was the turning point.

I was able to save enough to buy a small home on the other side of town. I had to move my business and buy out Gina. I struggled to re-establish my car lot, successfully.

I came home one night, tired but smiling. I'd paid off a bill. It was for a repair garage. I still owed more money on my home and business mortgages than I'd paid. That garage would double my revenue. I had my health and my mother's love.


"Yes, Mother." I found her typing on a mock typewriter keyboard. I hugged her shoulders.

"I'll make you something."

"Keep working, Mom." She was beautiful in the blue glow of the widescreen monitor. Fuck court orders. It's not like cops actually cared. Her parole officer stopped visiting after the first year. They had real shit to deal with. Still she used my identity when online. Unfortunately, that left only the sleaziest of dating sites, ones that didn't require ID verification, for her to find lovers who could satisfy her particular needs. She dated twice. I doubt she fucked either of them. She described one as a dom who tried to sound like Peter Lorre, and the other a gay man who needed to come the fuck out.

I opened the fridge. Everything was fresh and delicious looking. Our house was in order. Mom worked hard too. I shut the fridge and walked to my lounge chair. Sinking in, I worried I'd fall asleep. I heard Mother shut down her computer.

"Honey, I need your help."

"No, Mother, You don't."

"What can I do for you, to get you to help me?"

"You need to agree." I reminded her. She never would. The original was her lesson of a lifetime.


My heart stopped.

"I'll agree."

It restarted with a thump that could be heard around the room. I didn't ask her, why now after seven years. I clawed my way out of the deep chair and stood, head clear. "Okay."

Mother stood and walked over to me.

"On your knees, Mother. Tell me exactly what you agree to."

She kneeled slowly, smoothly. "I promise to obey you. I promise to give you everything that is mine."

"In return for your obedience and possessions, I will punish you physically whenever I desire and love you with all my heart." I didn't have to promise the last part. She knew.


I nodded. "Wait there." I wanted to run, but I marched into the bathroom and looked through her things. I found it, buried under her few cosmetics. I brought it to her.

"Next time, have this with you."


"No. I've changed my mind." I withheld the lipstick from her. "Stand and bend over the arm of my chair."

"Thank you."


"Thank you, Son." She leaned cautiously. We had never done this before. She had never begged, and I had never offered. I had wanted her full agreement.

"Mother. First, I'm going to punish you for making me wait."


Users who are viewing this thread

Latest profile posts

hi4u35yu01 wrote on mursa15's profile.
Would you reupload this one on katfile, please?

JK天使隊 ディバインフォース
hi4u35yu01 wrote on Shine's profile.
Would you reupload this one on katfile, please?

[170426] [CARYO] JK天使隊 ディバインフォース [RJ198381]
hi4u35yu01 wrote on ROSS's profile.
Hi, can you reupload this one ?
Sorry for disturbing you. Hope you have a nice day.
JK天使隊 ディバインフォース
nobis_c wrote on Shine's profile.
Would you reupload the mexashare link part 7, please? That's the only broken one.

聖奴隷学園祭 Remaster Complete Box