At the Mercy of Mom

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I’m a pro writer, wrote the machina series, the Monkeyland series, among others. First love is porn because kink requires imagination. Viva l’maginación!


“You and I need to have a little talk, young man.”

Yeah, right, I thought.

Mom eyed me thoughtfully.

I was just 18, of a teenager’s bent, rude, thoughtless, fuck the world.

I was immortal and I knew it.

What I didn’t understand was that unless I treated everybody like human beings…I wouldn’t be treated like a human being.

Mom came to a decision. She stood up, “Wait right here.” She walked out the kitchen door and back up the driveway.

This was different. Usually it was a long lecture, blah, blah, blah…until I was so bored I acquiesced.

But, wait here?

So I did.

She was back in a minute.

“Put these on.” She tossed a pair of handcuffs on the table. She was holding a switch in the other.


Incredulous, that was the word that summed me up.

“I said, put those on.”

“I’m not putting those on!”

Inside, I was getting pretty nervous. I mean, what the fuck was going on?

Mom said: “You put those on, behind your back, or I will use this switch to drive you from this house.”

The glare in her eyes warned me that this was real.

So I put them on.

I was trembling, I had turned one way and the world turned the other, and I didn’t know what else to do.

But she was my mom! Yes, I called her an old bitch, and lots of worse things, but she was my mother! She wouldn’t do anything bad to me, right?

She came around behind me and made sure the cuffs were on tight.

Then she hoisted them upwards.

My arms bent upward in pain and I went on to tip toes.


“Shut the fuck up you stupid, little shit.”

Never, ever, had mom spoken to me like that. The words made my eyes grow bigger than the pain in my arms.

She pushed me towards the back door.

She opened the screen with my face and I tripped and almost fell on the drive.

“This way,” she pushed me up the driveway.

I pranced in front of her, pain in my arm joints, my mind totally messed.

We approached the workshop.

I had never been in the workshop.

Well, when it was a garage I had, but dad had changed it into a workshop, kept the only key, and only he and mom had ever been in it.

They had been in it a lot. Sometimes they went back to the workshop and locked themselves in to have a long talk.

Sometimes they were angry at each other when they went back there. Sometimes they weren’t. But whatever their moods, they came back from the workshop whistling.

Great, I thought I was going to be forced to sit and listen to a bunch of blah blah.

Mom lowered my arms long enough to fit key to lock, then I was pushed into the darkness.

Quickly, she locked the door.

We stood in darkness.

She didn’t say anything.

Then I felt her hands guide me again. I was pushed against something. It was a weird shape. Being handcuffed and confused I couldn’t make out what it was.

“Lean your face forward.”

I did, and suddenly she pushed my head and something clamped across the back of my neck. My face was permanently pressed into what felt like a miniature toilet seat.

“Let me go!” I yelled.

The lights went on.

I couldn’t look down, but I was standing, hands cuffed behind me, with my head clamped through a face-sized hole on some sort of weird-shaped table that was standing on end.

Mom came into view, faced me.

“This is the last time in your life that I will force you to do something. After this you will have to ask me.”

“Ask you what? Let me go!”

She turned and went to the far wall and turned on a sound system.

She stared at the system for a second, then tossed over her shoulder: “Your father, when he was bad, always liked the Stones. ‘I Can’t Get No Satisfaction.’ We should probably play something a bit more suitable for you, more in line with your temperament.”

She pressed some buttons and Britney Spears started singing, ‘Oops, I Did It Again.’

“Mom,” I tried to speak with a reasonable tone. “You really need to let me go.”

“I do, huh?”

She walked forward and stopped in front of me.

“Do you really know just how rude you’ve been to me?”


“I try to keep us together since your father died. I work my finger to the bone, I keep the house, I do everything for you. And do you know how badly you treat me?”


WHAP! She slapped me in the face. It was a hard slap, one that, had she made a fist, would have broken my nose. I mean, there was POWER in that slap.

I started to cry.

Mom stood there, watched me for a moment. I sensed that she softened, but not that I was going to get out of this stupid contraption.

“Hush now,” she said softly.

In the background Britney went, ‘Oops.’

I Ankara escort tried to stop crying, but it took me a few moments. It’s not every day that a guy’s mother gives him a world class slobber knocker.

Finally, I did, and that’s when the world really started to come apart.

Mom went back to the rear wall, stood next to the sound system, and started undressing.

“Jeremy,” she said, taking off her blouse, “I love you more than life itself.”

She hung her blouse on a coat hanger, placed the hanger on a coat rack standing to one side. She was a small woman, but with large breasts.

And, seeing them in only a sheer, black bra, they were perfect breasts. Full, emphasized by her flat stomach, the nipples visible, the curve over the bra heaving very slightly with her deep breaths.

I had stopped talking and could only stare.

“More than your father, even. Your father understood this. Never was jealous, for he understood what a woman was, what drives the heart of a woman, what real love is.”

She wiggled out of her pants, folded them over another hanger and placed that hanger on the tree.

“You, unfortunately, though you are of the same basic stripe, the same DNA, as your father, are totally idiotic. Calling your own mother, the mother whose womb stretched—to unbelievable lengths, I might add—that you might pop forth unto this world, a bitch, an asshole, and thinking, no doubt, that I was nothing but a stupid cunt.”

“Mom…” my voice sounded like I was gargling.

“Shut, now, Jeremy dear.”

She reached behind herself and unclasped her bra.

“And don’t worry.”

Her breasts fell into view. But they didn’t fall much. They were in good shape, jutting forth with perky nips.

In spite of myself, my situation, my relationship to this woman…I felt the stirrings of a hard on.

“After tonight you won’t be an idiot.”

She slid off her panties.

“After tonight you will understand love. You will be like your father. You will have come to full potential.”


She turned up Britney, drowned me out, and sat down at a make up table.

I knew my mom was good looking. Heck, she turned heads like doorknobs when she walked down the street. But I had never seen her prepare herself for a man.

Slowly, enjoying herself, she applied make up. Gave her skin extra color. Highlighted her eyes with pencil, making them dark around the edges so that the fierce blue of them could truly shine forth. Finally, she put on red lipstick.

The kind of lipstick that made men think: BLOW JOB!

She stood up, turned to face me.

Bingo. I had a hard on.

She wasn’t looking at me like a mother; she was looking at me like I was piece of meat.

She was cruel, proud, haughty, and ready for a meal. Ready to take a bite out of a man.

I instantly wondered how any man could be so foolish as to think that woman didn’t own the world.

Hell, looking like she did, my mom owned the universe.

And I realized that she had looked this way to own my father.

And, a bit of fear within, she was looking this way to own me.

Oh, fuck. I began to struggle.

Mom turned the music down slightly, then bent at the waist. Her magnificent breasts leaned downward, and she slipped into a pair of high heels.

She stood up.

Oh…oh sweet mother of god.

She was beautiful.

Delicate curves showed her lustful nature.

Her body was a shining example of the perfection of woman.

“I am not a fan of high heels,” she said. “But I know that men love them. Love the view of the ass, love the way the butt perks, which makes the woman counterbalance by thrusting the shoulders back, which emphasizes…the breasts.

“Or perhaps you would prefer me to refer to them as boobies? Titties? Something else?”

I didn’t say anything. I knew I was redder than a beet driving a fire engine.

She sashayed towards me, every part of her body in a confident, sexy motion. She stopped in front of me.

Her eyes, so blue, swallowed me. Her lips, so red, made me so nervous I licked my own.

Her long, shoulder length, dark hair framed her perfect face.

Hard on, yes.

And, the unfortunate side effects of a hard on: I was incapable of coherent thought.

“Let me introduce you to your father’s workshop.

She put her hands forward, gripped the sides of the contraption my face was stuck into, and began turning.

“The door, you have been through. It’s sound proofed, as is the whole workshop.”

And, if that wasn’t enough, I knew that workshop was behind the house, far from the street, passersby, or even any nosy neighbors.

“There are the paddles. Your father didn’t use them much, but I did, so he kept an extensive collection for me. ‘Never a bruise, Alice,’ he used to say to me. I was delighted to ignore him.

“This wall has our dildos, strap ons, butt plugs, and a few other odds and (she Ankara escort bayan giggled) ends.

“Those doors there are to closets which hold costumes, things we needed to play good role games.

“And back to the front, or rear, the sound system, make up station, and so on.”

My eyes had swung wildly during her ‘tour,’ now they fixed on her, but were still wild.

She said: “Will you be a good boy, Jeremy? And place your hands in the side restraints if I uncuff you?”

I nodded. Heck, my head jerked up and down fearfully.

My wild eyes betrayed me.

She smiled, white teeth, sharp teeth, framed by plump, juicy, wet lips.

“Of course you won’t, but there are ways to make you comply.”

She went around behind me. Suddenly I felt a large belt pulled around my waist, jerking me against contraption my face was stuck in. My whole body was now belted firmly in place.

She came around to the front. She bent out of sight, and I felt her working my belt.

Then my zipper.

I began blubbering then, but it was no use.

She grabbed my erect penis and pulled it through a smaller hole.

Something stretched over my balls, became snug, and then I was jerked forward. I was now held not so much by the belt around my back, but the grip on my penis and balls.

Then, firmly in place, unable to move, my cuffs were removed.

I tried to swing an arm, but she simply grabbed it, stretched it out, and clamped it to the table.

Then the other one.

There I was, bound spread-eagled on a table by my own, naked mother.

But worse was to come.

She went to the make up table, picked up a knife, and returned.

“Don’t wiggle,” she said. “I don’t want to cut you.”

She cut my tee shirt here and there, then ripped the fabric off my body.

She disappeared from view and a motor whirred and my table went forward to a horizontal position.

She pulled my pants off.

“Please mom, please mom,” I could hear myself mumbling.

In truth, my brain had totally stopped working. I was somewhere deeper than panic.

She cut off my underpants.

I lay naked, at the mercy of mom.

The motor whirred, the table rose into the air.

I could see strips of mirrors to the side. I could see my reflection. The table was shaped like a body. My penis hung…was erect like a mother…uh, fucker, and my face was in total shock.

Mom wheeled under me in a swivel chair. She leaned back slightly, she took hold of my cock.

“Nice.” She gripped it with her lips, ran her tongue around the helmet ledge. “Mmm.”

The feel of her perfect lips touching my penis was incredible. The fact that it was my mother doing the honors only made it ten times better.

I shivered.

Sensations rippled up and down the length of my shaft. I could fell sparks igniting deep in my groin.

“Oh, yes.” she murmured. Then she filled her hand with lube and began to gently stroke me. Up and down, again and again, causing shivers and spasms to erupt continuously.

“Your father loved this. He loved the belt. He loved a little butt fucking. Hell, he loved everything.”

I was beyond speech now, only able to eke out some weird ‘gaa gaa’ sounds.

I was dimly aware that I was drooling. I could see a puddle of wetness growing on the floor.

I didn’t care. I just didn’t want the slippery, slithery, soul-stripping sensations to stop.

She took me in her mouth again, reached up and over the sides of the table and found my nipples.

“Huh!” I grunted with the pleasure of it all. I tried to lurch my hips forward.

She suckled and stroked and pinched.

One hand came back down and squeezed my balls. Rolled them around like ben wah balls.

I felt a surging deep in my groin.

She pulled back.

“Oh, not yet.” I could feel her grinning. “You haven’t near learned your lesson.”

She slid out from under the table.

I laid on the table, my heart racing, my blood pounding, my dick harder than it had ever been in my life.

She walked to the dildo wall, took something down. The sounds I heard then were buckles being fastened as she secured a strap around her waist.

The motor whirred, the table rose halfway up.

She sat in the swivel chair and slid under me.

Our faces were inches apart, our lips were so close to touching.

I was drooling, stunned like I had been hit in the head with a two by four.

She didn’t mind the drool, let me drool on her world class breasts.

“Oh, Jeremy, I have longed for this day, and dreaded it. I was scared to do this to you, yet I knew it was the answer.”

I could feel her breath as she spoke, soft like a feather, washing over my face, telling me just how much she loved me.

Slowly, gently, she touched her lips to mine. I felt her soft flesh brushing mine. I felt her tongue come out and dab at me.

She stroked my penis, worked it gently, building Escort Ankara sensations until I felt I would burst.

I found myself kissing her back.

And crying. God, I was crying.

I couldn’t believe I had ever been mean to this wonderful woman.

I couldn’t believe the nastiness in my soul.

Yet I was determined to atone, to make amends, to do right for all the wrongs I had done.

To make up for thinking her a stupid cow, a dim-wit bitch, a cunt.

I cried, my tears fell on her cheeks, and I think she was crying, but the tears were good. Our tears were good.

A washing of the soul.

A new turn in the road.

A way to make up for the nasty things of life.

A way to make it all right.

Long we kissed.

Deeply we kissed.

I learnt of the crevices of her mouth, the soft cushions of her lips, the thrusting forcefulness of her tongue.

Some minutes later, long minutes, she broke contact.

She was still eyeball to eyeball with me, and she said: I now must do what I must do, for there can be no mistake concerning our relationship.

“You will be able to screw me, to your heart’s content. You will be able to plummet your massive cock deep into my tunnel, you will be able to find out all my secrets.

“But this time…this time I must screw you. I must be dominate for you to understand.

“Do you understand?”

I was still sobbing, but a softer, understanding sobbing, and I gave a nod of my head.

She kissed me one last time, lingered, then pushed away.

Now, all business, she stood up and walked behind me, and I discovered a nasty truth: the legs of the table came apart. Which meant that my legs came apart.

Mom pushed the legs apart, exposing my asshole.

“I have lubricated, but it will still hurt. I will go slow, but it will still hurt. In the end—no pun intended—it will not hurt.

I nodded.

She stroked the insides of my thighs. She worked my penis and rolled my testicles. She brought me to full erection that I might forever understand the sexiness of agreeable rape, of how the asshole might be used, of the leveler of man to woman: that a he might be taken by a she.

That there was an equality of the sexes that could not be denied, if one was willing to strap on the tools and do the job.

She inserted a finger.

Very gently, she wiggled, taught my rectum how to make room.

“Try to relax,” she whispered.

I tried.

Two fingers.

In and out, round and round. Slowly, my resistance went away.

Three fingers.

I could hear myself grunting. I could feel pain, but wonderful, wonderful pleasure, assaulting me, robbing me of my senses, making me a better man.

Then the head of the dildo.

She had chosen a soft, flexible tool for her assault, and it took a moment for her to get in far enough, to make the head pop past my stubborn ring.

Then it was in.

It had six inches to go…but it was in.

In my head everything had stopped.

There was only the sensation of expanding pleasure as my body was split asunder and forever.

She pushed slightly.

I would have crawled away, except for the table, that wonderful, blessed table.

She pushed again. Four inches in, four to go.

I was making mewling sounds, begging, but whether begging for less or more I do not know.

But whatever I wished, somewhere in the deep spaces of my mind I do know I didn’t want it to stop.

I want to be ripped open, to be exploded from within, to suffer—and survive—the greatest degradation a man could endure.

I wanted her to find my heart and make me whole, to change me forever and never let me go.

She slid forward, gently, millimeter by millimeter. The soft skin of the false penis rubbing my own soft innards, and I could feel myself shedding control of all those emotions that had made me rude and thoughtless.

I felt the soft faux balls up against my perineum; I felt the tip tingling deep inside; I felt my heart exploding with warmth.

Softly, gently, she sawed into me. Back and forth, in and out, round and round.

My ass started to dance with her thrusts, to sway with her movements, become the yin to her yang.

That it should have been my yang to her yin was not thought of, was put off for another time, a time when I would plumb her depths.

But now…now was my time.

And I let go, dissolved into a puddle of sobbing gratefulness.

Then I felt her, as she stood balls deep in me, reach under and massage me.

My dick exploded.

Rope after rope issued forth.

I grunted and strained, taken beyond the pale of pain and entered into a heaven so electric and satisfying that I had not known it existed.

And then it stopped.

I dripped on the floor.

The fake penis was withdrawn from my now educated nether regions.

She undid the restraints, helped me walk.

Back into the house, down the hallway to her room.

She tucked me in, crawled in next to me and held me.

Dried my tears and pressed her beautiful breasts into my body.

I slept, and the dreams…the dreams they were worthwhile.

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