A New Domination Ch. 02

At the same time, I could feel myself nearing my peak. This was no ordinary fuck, this was something new and depraved, but supremely erotic, filling me with an ecstasy I'd never experienced before. This was my mother, begging her son to take her, acknowledging his mastery over her—and loving every moment of it.

Eventually she reached the point of no return, screaming. "Please, may I cum for you, Sir? Please, let me cum?"

"Yes, whore! Cum for me! Now! Cum for your master!"

My mother's screams seemed to fill the room as she came on my hard cock, flooding me with her hot juices. Her screams and moans of delight were all I needed to plunge over the edge into my own maelstrom of sexual rapture. With a loud shout, I came harder than I could ever remember having cum before as my cock unloaded deep into her womb.

We both gasped for air, breathing hard as the rapture slowly diminished. I rolled off her back and lay on the bed with my mother on her side. I must have started to fall asleep, because the next thing I remembered was one finger slowly moving from my neck to my navel in a sensuous caress. I opened my eyes to see my mother resting on one elbow with a luminous smile glowing across her face as she trailed a finger over me.

"Oh god, Sir, that was everything I imagined and so much more. If this is how being your sub is going to be, I will crawl over broken glass for you, I'll ..."

I pulled her across me and stopped her the best way I knew how, with a kiss that started warm and gently but soon grew into a passionate, no holds barred lingual exploration.

"Sally, this is beyond beautiful, beyond sexy, beyond a rainbow explosion of sensuality. You are so beautiful and so desirable, I don't know how I am going to be able to keep my hands off you."

"Then don't try," she giggled, but then changed the moment with a wide, unstoppable yawn.

"Mmm, yes, Mum, we need some sleep—it's been an eventful day. You have one last sub's job to do ..." but before I could tell her, she shimmied down and ran her warm, soft tongue over my now wholly shrunken cock, cleaning me completely of the mixture of our joint delight.

This time we slept together, spooned into each other and she wriggled backwards, seeking the most contact with my body. It was all I could do to resist her before sleep relieved the temptation.

The week passed in a blur of sexual excitement. At least once a day, my mother would beg me to discipline her; her favourite was a spanking with me using my bare hand, but she also enjoyed a stiff leather paddle. We had sex in every room of the house, sometimes a long erotic lovemaking with extensive foreplay until we were both almost out of control. Sometimes I would take her by surprise for a fast hard fuck that had her screaming and thrashing in her climax.

On the Saturday, my mother had been shopping dressed conservatively; this style was getting me increasingly enthusiastic, knowing that underneath that prim and proper exterior was a sexual volcano. I decided to put her to a humiliating test.

"Mother, we shall go to church tomorrow." I caught her unawares and quite surprised.

"Why, sure, honey, but why; don't forget that your father is due back tomorrow evening."

"How could I forget, Sally; we shall have to curtail our excitement. But I think it might be good for you to see your girlfriends again—it's been a while, hasn't it?" She nodded her agreement, but I refused to be drawn any further.

The following morning, we were up early, with mother dressed in typical church-going clothes. Low heels, pantyhose, a severe dress with a covering jacket, a small black hat with a false veil and the most rudimentary makeup. She paraded herself for my inspection, and I nodded approval.

"Excellent, mother—how do you feel?"

"I feel a complete hypocrite, Simon. I don't understand why we're going to church, and you so seldom come."

"To answer your question, mother, this is to see just how well you cope with humiliation." So saying, I produced an egg shaped object and showed it to her.

She gasped, holding her hand to her mouth. "That's ... that's a ... that's a vibrator, isn't it?"

"Correct, mother, and you will insert it into your cunt, and it will stay there until we return from church. Now go and get it into you like a good girl."

My mother disappeared briefly, returning with a look blended from concentration and concern on her face. "Okay, I've put it inside me, what happens now?"

I said nothing, but turned the remote control to a medium setting. She screamed with the sensation, shaking and staring at me with fear in her eyes. "Oh god, Simon, I can't go to church like this, with you controlling the sensations like you are; I'd completely lose control and make a total laughing stock of myself."

"Then it's up to you to make sure you control yourself, isn't it, mother? Now finish getting ready, we don't want to be late." I could see that she wanted to object, but something held her back, and I was willing to bet that her need to be dominated had overcome her fear of exposure.

We arrived at the church and Sally was greeted by some of her older acquaintances who gushed over her and me for coming with my mother. As they were talking, I tweaked the remote very lightly, giving her a light buzz in her pussy. Mum gasped, and her friends were immediately solicitous as she explained that she was having some minor pain. "Women's troubles," I commented blandly, and the others nodded in understanding.

The congregation was small and we sat in a pew by ourselves. This gave me the opportunity to play with the remote, and during the sermon, I turned it up to medium. My mother writhed in her seat, close to orgasm and had to almost physically restrain herself from making any sound.

After the service, we were again joined by mum's former cronies and they gossiped with genial malice. We were then joined by Denise Carlyle, the deaconess, a striking woman in her late thirties, cool and self-assured, wearing what was obviously Chanel No.5. I noticed my mother twitched her nose at this, and she told me later that she really disliked that perfume.

We stood talking for a while, and I manipulated the remote enough to make my mother twitch and squirm, but she concealed this quite well. But not completely, and the consensus of opinion was that I should take mum home and make sure she was okay.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure she gets the treatment she needs," I smiled as we left the church. When we were settled in the car, I turned the vibrator up to the highest setting, and she thrashed and moaned in her seat as two or three orgasms swept over her.

When we arrived home, we went into the lounge and I ordered her to strip. "Get yourself out of those 'old lady' clothes, and never let me see you wearing pantyhose again. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir" she whispered obediently and was soon naked in front of me.

"Do you know what will happen now, mother, after you nearly revealed your climax in the church? Tell me, what do you think you deserve?"

She said nothing, but rubbed her legs together, trying to gain stimulation in her weeping pussy.

"You have been a bad girl, getting so wet and almost losing control. You could barely contain your excitement, could you mother? You know you should be punished; what punishment do bad little girls get when they get wet?"

She whimpered, knowing the answer. "Bad girls deserve to be spanked, sir. Please spank me and prove what a bad girl I've been." Her voice trembled, but she held her position, and her eyes never left mine. "I need to be punished, and I need you to do it, to spank me until I scream, so I know that I belong to you."

"Come here, then, and take the position across my lap."

She did so, and the result was truly mouth watering. Her soft pink/white skin flowed across both cheeks and presented a target that no red-blooded male could possibly resist. Instead of immediately spanking her, as she probably expected, I gently stroked my hand over her responsive skin as it quivered and trembled in anticipation. God help me, it felt wonderful, and her groans and whimpers told me that she felt the same way.

Then I struck. My hand was cupped at first, making a satisfying noise but not causing much pain. Lulling her into a false sense of security, I opened my hand and spread my fingers and gave her five rapid strikes on each cheek. She squeaked and squealed as her bottom took on first a pink and then a deeper cherry red tinge. Then a further five on each side led to a change in her voice. Her response to the stinging sensation was having a different effect, and she writhed and rolled on my lap, seeming to try to force her mound against my now very interested cock.

"I see, slut—you are trying to get off on me; this wasn't supposed to be about your pleasure but about you being punished. What do you have to say for yourself?" I motioned for her to sit beside me.

"I ... I ... I don't ... I don't know, Sir. All I know is that your spanking heated my bottom and the heat transferred to my pussy, and it made me feel so hot and so sexy, and I so wanted to come to a climax, especially because you created it."

"Hmm. I see, mother. I shall have to give a lot of thought to suitable punishments that won't lead to you getting aroused. But while I am thinking about that, your response to me playing with your bottom has caused me to get very enthusiastic about the idea of fucking you, and I'm going to take you doggy style."

If her expression could have caused me to orgasm, I would have cum violently and relentlessly there and then. "Please, Sir, please fuck me as hard as you like. Oh god, just the idea is making my pussy drool. Ooh yes, I need you so much and ..."

"Quiet, slut, bedroom now, on your hands and knees in the middle of the bed."

My mother rushed out of the lounge and was quickly in position on her own bed, her body quivering and shaking with excitement while she waited for me. I stripped quickly, then joined her on the bed, giving her a brisk slap across each cheek. "Now, Sally, fold your arms and rest your head on them." She did so, presenting her luscious bottom to me, her pussy wet and ready.

I bent down behind her and ran my tongue along her slit, luxuriating in the sweet juices oozing from her pussy and the intoxicating aroma acting as its own supreme aphrodisiac. She moaned and gasped, with soft whimpers as my tongue worked hard across her clit. Her arousal was growing; mine too, and I wanted us to finish together in a blaze of glory.

I moved over her back, and stroked my almost painful cock along her slit, causing her gasps and moans to grow in volume and become ragged and needy. Without any further preliminaries, I plunged my rigid member hard into her hot, wet, clingy sweetness. Her cunt welcomed me like a long lost lover, and she screamed, partly because of the sudden intrusion, but more with delight at being filled to the brim with cock.

"Oh god yes, Sir—please fill me full of your beautiful cock—I can't get enough of it. Oh ... oh ... oh ... oh ... please Sir, don't stop, ride me hard, make me scream, fill me up. This is SO good. Ungh ... aargh ... I've never ..."

All the while her breathing became faster and more ragged and I could feel her cunt muscles contracting and dragging me deeper into her chamber of delights. Her hands grabbed and twisted the bedclothes and she screamed in a crescendo of lust and need, jerking spasmodically as she neared her climax.

I had not been idle during this time, pumping into my mother from behind, my thrusts becoming harder and more frequent as her orgasm grew closer. Then that bliss, almost indistinguishable from pain as my balls insisted that they be emptied into this hot wet receptacle. My cock swelled into its welcoming tunnel and I screamed my delight as I erupted into her. This was enough for my mother, and with an ear splitting scream, she came, bathing my cock in her superheated juices.

I fell sideways so as not to crush her, and she turned and looked at me through smoky, half-focussed eyes. "Simon, master, there aren't enough words. You are perfect for me; this means so much to me, and every time we are together, I want you more. But I worry sometimes that I am out of balance and not giving you everything you want and need. Oh Sir, what more can I do to satisfy you?"

I returned her gaze, then moved over to kiss her. I held her close to me and we wrapped our bodies around each other. Then a long, slow kiss, our tongues melding together, working against each other with a passion so different from the phenomenal sex that we had both just enjoyed, but with a desire and beauty all its own. "What does that tell you, mother?" I asked, being deliberately ingenuous.

"I think it means that you are happy with me, and that I can give you at least some of what you need. This is so beautiful, Sir, I don't ever want it to stop."

My hands moved down her sleek, smooth back in long, slow strokes and she quivered with the sensations, murmuring her happiness and excitement. We lay that way for a long time, talking, laughing, kissing, touching, both intoxicated with the other. This was my mother, but she met my needs in a way that no other woman could, and I luxuriated in her feel, her sight, her laughter and the taste of her skin.

Suddenly, and totally unexpectedly, my mother burst into tears. "Oh god, Sir, I've just realised—your father will be home in about three hours, and then all this must stop and I'll have to go back to my drab existence with him. Now I know what real love and real bliss is, I don't know how I'll be able to cope."

"Mum, listen to me. I know how much I love and need you, and I think you feel the same. If we just keep that in our minds and seize whatever opportunities there may be in his absence, I think we'll be able to get through this. Now, kiss me, and make it good."

It was. Her kiss was hot, wet and sweet. She used her mouth and tongue as if they were musical instruments and she was a concert performer, and I replied in kind. I wanted this to go further, and looking directly at her she knew what I wanted, almost without hesitation. Her hands moved to my growing cock as I said, "Blow me, slut," and she moaned in eager expectation.

My mother had developed a ritual for giving me head that I found intensely exciting. She fondled my cock and balls, gently scratching the skin so lightly that I could hardly feel it, but the result was incredible. She kept this up until the first drops of pre-cum appeared, which she licked off with just the tip of her tongue. This was the signal for her to work her tongue along the shaft, rolling it around the head of my rapidly swelling cock.

At the same time, she gently juggled and caressed my balls with her soft, warm hand. My breathing grew ragged and I started to gasp in anticipation of a major eruption. This was the signal for her to suck on my drooling cock, and the suction combined with her moans of enjoyment was more than I could control. I felt the electric tingle of an approaching climax generate in my abdomen and spread rapidly to my balls. The pressure built to that ecstasy almost indistinguishable from pain, and I unleashed my cum directly into my mother's welcoming mouth.

She swallowed hungrily, taking all I had to give, then looking at me with a mischievous grin, licked her lips and murmured, "Oh yes, Sir, that is so delicious. I think I could live on that alone."

I grabbed her and kissed her hard, tasting myself on her lips, a sensation that I found highly erotic, even though it was really depraved. But we were both completely comfortable with what was happening; her devotion to me was matched by my desire for her and my determination to protect her on the one hand and to dominate her on the other. When we had talked about this, I almost had to stop my mother throwing herself at me in a submissive desire to be my lover, my sex slave and my slut.

We showered and dressed in an atmosphere compounded of disappointment and almost dread before my father arrived home in the early evening. I was in my room when he arrived, but wandered out and greeted him, but the atmosphere was very tense.

"Hi dad, welcome home," I managed, "what's up?"

"Your father has only just got back and rather than spend time with his family, he told me he needs to go to his office. Something about a problem with a big account." My mother's voice clearly indicated her displeasure.

"Look, Sally—hi Simon, how are you?—I told you, this is important; I could lose a big account unless the problem is fixed right away. I got a message on the plane, and there is no time to lose. I'll be home later." So saying, he grabbed his briefcase and headed for the door.

My mother looked at me, then threw herself into my arms. "Thank god I've got you, Simon, otherwise I don't know how I'd cope."

"Yes, mother, you are completely mine." I took her by the hand and, sitting in a convenient chair, pulled her, unresisting, across my lap. I flipped up her sensible skirt and proceeded to spank her gorgeous bottom. The response was a little more intense than I'd expected as she squealed and cried, but as I finished, she stood and took my head in her hands, kissing me with great enthusiasm.

"Thank you so much, Sir, that is just what I needed to release the stress that he caused. One day, when we've got more time, I'll show you just how grateful I really am," and she giggled and swayed her hips as she shimmied away.

Sally and I managed to get through the next week or two but with great difficulty. We managed some fast, intense encounters, but the knowledge that dad was still around put a dampener on our activities.

Then the world changed. One morning, mum called to me in a strained and unhappy voice. "Simon, can you spare me a moment, please, I'd like your opinion."

Mum was in the laundry holding one of dad's shirts. "Look," she said, pointing to a faint red/pink stain, "that's definitely not my shade of lipstick. And smell the shirt—I don't wear that perfume."

There was no question in my mind; it was Chanel No. 5, which mum didn't like. But I knew someone who did. "Mum, I know this is way out of left field, but if my memory serves, that's the shade that Denise Carlyle was wearing that Sunday at church. I remember thinking it did nothing for her; and she wears Chanel No. 5!"

"Oh my god, Simon, you can't possibly think that your father is having an affair with the deacon at the church? That's preposterous."

"Dunno, mum, but I know of a way of finding out. Do you remember Ted Bull, a guy who was at uni last year—he called round here a couple of times, and I did him one or two favours. He dropped out to start his own private detective agency. I think I might call in those favours." My mother looked apprehensive but said nothing.

I contacted Ted and he was happy to help. I gave him a photo of my father and as much information about my suspicions as possible, and he promised to get back to me. About ten days later I had a call from Ted and I went to see him.

"Better sit down, dude," his face was sombre. "This isn't pretty." He showed me a series of photos unquestionably showing my father in intimate positions with Denise Carlyle. Worse was to come; Ted produced a DVD—the quality was not the best and the sound somewhat muffled, but there could be no doubt about the two players. This showed Ms Carlyle wearing a latex bustier and stockings with one foot on dad's head, lashing his bare arse with a riding crop. And he was begging mistress for more as she verbally abused him.

"Holy shit, Ted, how the hell did you get this?"

"Modern cameras can work wonders. They weren't hard to track down and your suspicions were absolutely correct, even if they did go a bit further than a quick cuddle and kiss behind the vestry."