Modified Mother taught a lesson Part II

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I rewrote this as well as Part I because it initially seemed like a highly offensive rape story.  Again, apologies that I didn’t get the right point across last time.  Again, this is consensual sex.  I added a plot element to ensure this was clear, and that little element led to the creation of a nice little epilogue that wraps things up nicely.  Feedback and criticism welcome. Especially about the Epilogue, which I thought was cool but could have been better written. If you don’t have time to read all of this, can you give me a comment on the epilogue, know there are alot of good writers out there. I was shocked, Marcus continuing to wiggle the head of his penis inside me, as he lay behind me naked, clutching my body against his, my hands and ankles tied.  He held his strong hand on my hip to keep me from wiggling so his penis would fall out.  He continued stroking my breasts with his other hand. “Marcus, I promised after you spanked me, I promised I would stop spending so much, so just stop, please!” He said, “Mother, I told you we had more to talk about, and this doesn’t have to do with money.” “What, what!  I just want this to stop!  Marcus, don’t!”  I started to cry. “Mother, I understand this may seem awkward to you now, and you know I would never do anything to violate you, so let’s try this.  You know what a ‘safe word'” is?” “No.” “Well Mother, when two people are engaged in unconventional sex, releasing their inhibitions, sometimes part of the fun is protesting and begging for the other to stop, but you want to make sure that the protesting is pretend.  If the other person, and I guess in this case that is you, is not enjoying it anymore, then you can use the safe word and I know to stop.  I suggest ‘Red’, like a red light.  Just say ‘Red’ and I’ll stop, untie you, and this is over, at anytime.  You can trust me that I will not violate the safe word.  So, ‘Red’, agreed?” I’d never heard of such a thing, but agreed, if it would get me out of this.  “Yes, agreed, ‘Red’.  Now stop it.!” He replied, “All you have to say is ‘Red’, I don’t hear words like stop now.”  But I couldn’t bring myself to say it, and didn’t know why.  “You’re silence gives me the message, now let’s continue.” “Mother, you’ve been spanking me all my life, but something changed after I istanbul travesti turned 16. Explain that to me.” “What, what changed?  Nothing changed.  I was being a good mother, disciplining you when needed.  That’s what made you the man you are.” “Oh, but Mother, something was different.  When I was younger, you used to take me over your knee and spank me over my pants, clothed, remember?  But when I became a man, you didn’t do that anymore.  Tell me how you started to spank me then.” I realized now what he was talking about.  I said, very hesitant, “Well, I started making you undress.” “Yes”, he replied, “you forced me to strip naked, and what else?” “I would make you stand in front of the mirror.  I just thought it was a better way to teach you, I was doing it for your own good.” “Yes, stripped naked in front of the mirror in your bedroom.  You would make me bend over, put my hands on my knees, and then you would spank me.  Curious, because I was never much trouble anyway, in fact a good kid, but you decided to take my spankings to this level?  Which psychology book did you get that from.  One that said, ‘When your children become adults, keep spanking them, but spank them bare and make them watch?’ Please Mother!” “I, I, only wanted what’s best for you.” During this interrogation, he continued to rotate the head of his penis inside me, and massage my breasts.  I realized this was starting to get me more wet than even the even spanking had, and my nipples had already been erect for a while.  I prayed to God he didn’t notice.  My genuine arousal was tempered by the reminder that this was my son, and this was wrong, and I should not like it.  I felt deeply ashamed that I was enjoying it. “Well, Mother, you used to spank me maybe once a month, but once I was an adult that increased to 3 or 4 times a week.  You seemed to find any excuse to spank me!  And you kept doing this up until I was 21, got a job and moved out.” “I, I already told you..” Suddenly, he thrust his penis all the way inside me, jamming his hips against my bare ass in the process. I shouted, “Marcus, no! No!”, I started struggling to shift my body around so he would fall out, but he was holding me down too strongly. “You don’t need to fight like this, Mother, just say ‘Red'” Again, something inside istanbul travestileri me didn’t want him to stop. I couldn’t say that one word, even though I thought I wanted to. “Don’t you think I didn’t notice, Mother, that your forced me to look at myself getting spanked, I could see your face in the mirror?  I could see something, a little smirk, some sort of satisfaction.  You also took your time between smacks.  But you would just look me up and down, enjoying yourself.  I think you made me undress because you liked looking at me naked.  I think it turned you on.” “What!?” I screamed, continuing to struggle, “How dare you speak to Mother that way!  How dare you!  How could I think such a thing!  Marcus, stop this, this is wrong, it’s a sin!” He did not respond. He slowly slid his penis out, so again it was just the head inside me.  I moaned as he partially extracted it.  But at this point I stopped writhing.  He stayed silent for a moment, and then moved the hand that had been holding down my hips, slid his finger down my reddened buttocks, between my legs, and stuck it inside me. I howled, “Marcus, do not touch Mother that way, Marcus, have you gone mad?” “If you don’t like it Mother, just say ‘Red’.  It really is that simple.” Again, silence from me. He removed his finger and brought it up to his face and sniffed, saying, “You’re pretty wet down there Mother?  I think you are not only enjoying this, but you are probably reminiscing on memories of those days, remembering fondly ordering me to undress and spanking me naked.” I had a moment of clarity there, though.  I never consciously thought about it, but I do remember that as he came of age, he became a very attractive, ideal young man.  He was smart and handsome, and he had gone from 98-pound weakling to star athlete.  I do remember looking at him and admiring his fine form. I did not consciously think that I was enjoying his undressed spankings, but I realized I did try to find reasons to spank him whenever I could. And I realized now that I did get a thrill, that I tried to suppress, watching him take off his clothes, and I could look at his firm bottom and legs, and also look at his washboard abdominals, his nice rounded shoulders, muscular chest in the mirror!  Would I also look at his manhood travesti istanbul swinging between his legs?, That was too much for me to handle now.  Again, I found myself being aroused just by the memory, and I felt ashamed and shouted out: “No, I am NOT enjoying this, Marcus!  This is a sin!  Stop!  Now!  Please!”  With the please, my tone had changed from attempted authority to begging. He suddenly thrust himself deep inside me again.  I just kept moaning and protesting for him to stop.  This time, he would thrust himself in forcefully, pounding against me, he would stay deep inside me for several seconds, then withdraw very slowly, then thrust again.  “Oh, please stop.” I moaned. “Just say ‘Red’.  Hmm, it’s not that hard to pronounce.  Anytime, and I will stop.  Something else I need to get clear with you Mother.”  He continued his hard thrusting and slow withdrawal.  “Mother, every time I had a girlfriend, or was just dating, you would find some way to drive her away, you would act all psychotic when I got a new girl, even a casual acquaintance.  Why was that, they were nice girls.” I replied, at this point I was panting, my face sweating, “I just wanted to protect you.  There are alot of bad people out there. Marcus, you know I only do what’s best for you!” Continuing to thrust and withdraw in his rhythm, he said, “Mother, you were jealous.” This also struck me, I really was insanely jealous of any woman who was with my beautiful boy.  It occurred to me that, every time I though of him with some girl, I would get a little crazy.  I even remember masturbating pretending I was one of his girlfriends.  But then I would wake up to the reality that he was my son and I could never have him.  Just thinking that I masturbated thinking of my son made me blush red.  Those two things, two truths he just reminded me of got my mind in a torrent.  Was I really so sexually attracted to my own son, but frustrated that it could never be consummated, became obsessive, possessive with him? “Marcus, the things you’re saying today, this is wrong, maybe you need therapy…” “Oh, Mother, you say such silly things.”  He took his hand and slid it down my stomach, and he began to stroke my clitoris. “Marcus, NO, you shouldn’t touch your Mother there!  Stop!”  I started flailing again, in vain trying to escape.  But I felt the orgasm coming physically, even though I tried to suppress any pleasure I was getting from this.  As he continued his thrusting with his penis,  stroking me, rubbing my breasts, I felt the orgasm coming on.

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