Mother's Helper Ch. 09-18

Matt entered. He stuffed a small, rock-hard red apple into her mouth and strapped it in. After securing her limbs, he picked up the bamboo and said, "This is for wearing a halter and shorts yesterday, rather than your approved clothing. It's time to mark you, but with something more substantial than a flyswatter."

Without more preliminaries, he raised the cutting and struck it down on the middle of her tight ass. Janice clenched her teeth on the apple but remained still, conscious of the moment: the first time her son applied an actual whip stroke to his own mother's flesh. She felt semi-delirious with excitement. Perspiration appeared in the small of her back. Her ass showed a distinct red line. He struck a second time, harder and higher than the first. She groaned for five seconds. A second stripe appeared, more livid than the first. "Your skin shows the marks beautifully, mother." Her head hung forward, saliva flowing around the apple onto the chair. He struck again with a vicious cut, lower than the first mark. Her head snapped up as she screamed outright, remembering in a flood of images the worst punishments he'd administered: dipping her breasts in burning lotion, sinking tea clamps onto her nipples and labia, heating metal funnels that imprisoned her breasts. Now she felt the sweat coursing down her spine into the crack of her ass. A third weal bloomed into being on her buttocks. When he specifically lashed the dark coral ring of her sphincter, she screamed and faded out to the familiar duet of clicks and flashes.

When Janice opened her eyes, she'd been moved up onto the chair, flipped over and retied. She was kneeling, her arms fastened to her ankles, a bolster behind her upper back so her torso was diagonal, a pillow under her ass to expose her slit. Her ass cheeks and ass hole burned on the pillow from the willow cutting. The apple gag had been removed. The heat lamps stared at her. By her side, Matthew knelt on the chair arm, facing her, holding a creamsicle.

"This is your first dessert. Time to hydrate you again. Lick the sides slowly." He held the dessert sideways against her mouth.

She extended her tongue and licked the delicious underside. "Mmmmm." Under the lamps, it was already softening.

"Again." She slid her tongue lasciviously along the top, acting as if it was his cock. It began dripping, white drops spattering on her breasts. "Open wide." He jammed the whole thing into her mouth, grinding it in a circle as she moaned, while pulling his cock out of his pants. "Suck it hard when I pull it out but don't swallow." He yanked out the creamsicle, said, "Again," plunged it in again, withdrew it slowly, warned her not to swallow and plunged it into her cunt. The entire length was absorbed. She screamed in shock from the icy cold, then gasped, her body spasming and her mouth wide open, a lake of cream inside.

He held his prick in front of her in the same way. After all this time, she needed no prompting. She licked the thick rod underneath from base to tip, then again along the top, savoring every moment. He squeezed the head of his cock and several drops of pre-cum joined the cream on her breasts. He checked the creamsicle and watched as a stream of cream from the shrinking popsicle flowed from her blazing cunt onto the floor. He straddled the chair, facing her with his knees on the arms. "Open wide."

He plunged his thick meat into her mouth hole hard and fast. The shock of the cold on his cock and the lubrication from all the cream was a rush for him. "Don't swallow," he warned. He pistoned in and out, holding her head still, and being a teenager, he had a massive cum in a few seconds, yelling, flooding her mouth with jism, so much that her cheeks bulged like a chipmunk.

He pulled out and looked down at her pussy. All he could see that was left of the creamsicle was the wooden stick. He picked up an oversized martini glass and positioned it under her mouth. Kneeling in front of her, he dipped the two cigar tubes into the pool of cream on the floor, spreading her cunt lips and positioning the larger one directly at her hole. He moved the thinner tube until it was applying slight pressure on her rosebud, beginning to distend it. "Oh my God," she thought, her eyelids fluttering in disbelief, "he's going to fuck both my holes with dildos at the same time, like he did in the kitchen."

"Mother!" he shouted. The moment her eyes met his, ensuring her humiliation, he shoved the dildos in. She screamed, her head and neck jutting forward as she spat a wave of cum and cream from her mouth into the glass, filling it till the overflow poured onto her sweaty breasts. She gazed at him blankly, dazed, as he pumped the dildos.

"Almost done. Only a bit more." He stood, walked to the microwave and heated the dripping martini glass. Now that I've marked your rear, you must wear my marks in the front as well."

"No!" she begged from behind the gag as he removed the glass from the microwave. He climbed back with his knees on the arms of the chair. Her jaw hung open slackly, so he stuffed the apple back in and picked up the bamboo. "Three more."

Steam wafted up from the martini glass. Once again, she remembered the intense pain when he'd forced her breasts into the hot sun block lotion at the pool, when he'd crushed her nipples in the heated tea clamps, when he'd forced her breasts into the metal funnels and heated them. He picked up the glass, placed it under a breast, and tilted it up so the tit was immersed in the hot cream. Her head twisted left and right in pain. He pulled off the glass, the abused breast encased in thick, dripping goo, and upended the glass over the other breast. Her head flipped back and forth more violently. When he removed the glass, the dark brown nipple stood out like a pillar in a sea of white. "Now they look like they did at the pool when we pushed your tits into the hot sun block. But that's about to change."

Her eyes stared up at him, wide in wonderment. In an instant, she realized he was not about to whip or flog her tits, he was actually going to cane them. It was as if they'd skipped college completely and skipped to graduate school. There were marks in this school, but they were being left on flesh, not paper. She marveled at his cruelty. He always raised the stakes. In one session, she thought, her own son had not only caned her ass, filled her cunt with a frozen dildo, forced double dildos up her holes, made her suck his cock and take his cum, he was also going to mark her beautiful tits.

Matt started to vigorously pump the cigar tubes all the way and out. When she appeared to be reaching a crescendo of screaming and twisting, he swung the bamboo across both breasts, hitting her dark aureola but narrowly missing the nipples. The goo splattered onto his naked belly, cock and balls. Even with the bindings, her body sprang up after a second's pause, her breasts smashing up against his balls and ass. After a few more seconds, even through the cream and cum, a vivid mark appeared. Her head lolled. He pulled it up by her hair until she saw the cane. "No," she moaned, and he swung again, hitting her breasts lower down, glop splashing his thighs. Her torso arced again into his cock and balls, her face contorted into a grimace. The first mark had solidified and darkened in color to a burnt red. A wider weal grew above it. "Open your eyes." He adjusted her head so she was looking at her breasts and whipped the cane down harder than ever, above her nipples. Goo flew up to his chest and nipples. "Arrgghhh!" she said, her body going into a shaking seizure for a full minute as she climaxed and passed out.

She had figured out the clicks and flashes, so it was not a surprise when she awoke a few minutes later to see Matt photographing her spread-eagled body with the digital camera. He took shots of her drenched chest, her chocolate nipples poking through the white covering, and especially the double tubes extending obscenely from her bare cunt and stretched asshole.

Finished, he straddled her again, his pelvis in her face. He squeezed her right breast and twisted the nipple on her right breast until her eyes fluttered open. "Clean me." Imagining how degraded she must look, she carefully licked the jism and cream off his scrotum and balls, heavy in their tight sac. She looped her tongue around his shaft and methodically cleaned everywhere, afraid he would cane her nipples. He tilted his chest down to her and her long tongue scraped across his abdomen and hungrily licked at his stained nipples.

"Now it's time to clean you. You're a mess again." He propped the empty martini glass underneath her breast. It was easy to grab the protruding nipple with his thumb and finger and pull it up and away from the chest. She squirmed but remained silent. Firmly, he scraped the stick along the underside of her breast, as roughly across the cane mark as elsewhere, and deposited a load of cream in the glass.

After several more scrapes, he lowered her breast and scraped off the top, cruelly raking the stick across the still-growing weals as she groaned with pain. He repeated it all on her other breast until the glass was full. She stared in wonderment and pride at the lines on her breast flesh. She now wore his marks.

"Remember, we can't let you get dehydrated. As promised, here's your second dessert." He held the glass so she could see the lurid mix of ice cream and his cum, combined with her own saliva and cunt juice. Her nose wrinkled in disgust and degradation. He lifted the bamboo and tapped it across her nipples. The threat could not have been more clear. She took a timid sip, now warmed from her breasts and the lamps. She'd forever crossed a threshold of depravity, she thought, swallowing the concoction. He was surprised when she drank the remainder more and more quickly, slurping noisily, and without being ordered, licked the inside of the glass till it was spotless.

"That is certainly a dry martini glass," Matt said. "Did you enjoy your dessert?"

Feeling too debased from the humiliating question to look at him, she answered hoarsely—and truthfully, "Yes, Matthew."

In Chapter Fifteen, the world is turned upside down as Matt collects his main graduation present.

Chapter Seventeen— The World Upside Down

Janice, pretending to be a normal suburban mother of a high school graduate, was particularly demure and contrite during the next day. However, she did go several times to her room where she raised her short skirt to view the fresh cane marks striping her ass and to apply an unguent. She had no need to unbutton her blouse to admire her marked breasts, for the blouse was sheer enough to see the welts as long as there was decent light. Neither she nor Matt mentioned anything about the past weeks, how he had made her into his daily sub-slut. There was an unspoken agreement between them.

During the ensuing period of the summer months, she raced through work in high-efficiency mode, turning down offers for after-work cocktails in order to rush back to the house. As we will see, he used her every night. During the day, when she was making his bed or setting the table, he would occasionally push her down, raise her skirt to her waist, fondle the weals across her ass cheeks, and note their rate of fading.

To maintain the great shape she was in, Matt had ordered her to workout hard every day. The welts on her breasts and ass were a dark, angry burgundy, raised above her skin. But at the gym, she felt too ashamed in the crowded changing room at 6 pm to strip and shower after her workout. Yet she was also strangely proud of her marks. She changed her schedule so she could workout at lunchtme, when there were few women at the gym and she could shower alone. Daydreaming in the shower, she awoke from a reverie to realize she'd been stroking the marks.

Unknown to her, Matt had discovered two drawers in her walk-in closet, full of new and unused bondage gear. He was amazed by all the expensive whips, floggers, dildos, clamps, gags, and other implements, by the glossy magazines focused exclusively on a couple of specific topics. That evening, Matt spoke. "Since you're such a good cook, I want you to prepare a "theme" dinner for Darielle and me on Sunday."

"Yes, Matthew, that sounds like fun!"

"I want it to be a formal French dinner. To make it even more fun, you're going to play the part of the French maid, in uniform, and serve us both." Startled, she found her pussy getting wet and squirmed in the chair. She'd always thought her sister extremely attractive.

Thursday afternoon, Janice found instructions on her bed, plus a traditional maid's cap and a highly starched, short white apron made of coarse white muslin. The note told her exactly how to dress.

At Friday breakfast, Janice prepared enough cream of wheat to last several days. She lost track of time and when she sat down she realized how late she was for work. She quickly stood, her cereal half-eaten and was about to dump it in the disposal when Matt clamped the wrist holding the bowl. "You're not only leaving the kitchen a mess, you're wasting good food. I'll clean up. Go to work." She thanked him and rushed out the door.

While washing up, Matt remembered how she'd looked with the lemon and the apple, her big lips spread wide around the fruit. And it had been a few days since he'd clamped her tits and labia with the tea utensils. Maybe he should clamp them again, but with something different? Tonight, he promised to make up for all the times he'd resorted to giving himself a hand job when he could have demanded more. He'd clamp her pussy as well as her tits. Moreover, he vowed again to perform the second part of the three-part scene he'd been dreaming about: to fuck her cunt.

Later that evening, entering the den, Janice saw that the coffee tables had been removed and two heavy stools had been moved in from the kitchen. She speculated about whether Matt would again tell her to suck his beautiful cock. One table displayed two long black shoelaces, the eye mask, four bungee cords, a hard plum, a couple of two inch wide binder clips from the office desk, an anal plug, and a long, hard pussy willow from the dried floral arrangement in the dining room. She realized the plum was the same color as her cherished bruises. The thought aroused her. On the microwave table was a Tupperware container holding the cream of wheat.

His written instructions were concise:

• No clothing

• Strap on all cords

• Lie on your back between the stools

Janice attached her cords, popped the plum in her mouth and even strapped it in with its cord. She put the eye mask in place and assumed the correct position. After a couple of minutes, Matt arrived, wearing only his robe. "Good. Now raise your butt and legs straight up in the classic yoga position, supporting yourself with your hands on your lower back." She did so quickly and easily. The only part of her body resting on the floor was her head, neck and upper shoulders. Her torso, pelvis and legs were held vertically upright. Matt pulled one leg wide open and attached the strap to one of the stools. He spread the other leg in the same way. Her legs pulled open wider than she thought possible. She groaned from the strain, her moist cunt and ass completely open to his control. She had never felt so exposed. He already saw a sheen of moisture all over her, from the heat lamps and the strain of the position.

Matt rubbed a large amount of liniment onto her thighs and onto the anal plug. She gleamed beautifully under the lamps. He had no trouble penetrating her willing asshole with the plug. He held the willow switch high above his head and swung down with plenty of momentum, hitting her inner thigh slightly above the knee. She yelled at the unexpected blow, her hands falling off as supports, but her legs were held by the stools. He swung again on the rear thighs, a few inches above the first blow. She exhaled in pain, her ribcage heaving. "Put your hands back on your hips," he ordered, and swung again twice, viciously striping her ass cheek only an inch or two from her puckering hole. She bucked but held position, uttering a long moan. He noted how much her thick clit kept growing during the whipping.

He applied three more canings to the other leg. Sweat and liniment were dripping down her stomach, forming rivulets in the crease between her breasts.

Matt tied a shoelace onto each of the metal clips and stroked one of her fat labia, coaxing it up and closing a clip along its length. Janice emitted a low-pitched grunt of intense pain. He tied the end of the shoelace to a stool, making the line taut. Her grunting changed to a tone with more pleasure in it. She should have known he would soon want to stretch her cunt lips. They were simply too long and too tempting a target. He fastened the second clip to her other lip and tied it off. He formed a loop on one end of the thin leather shoelace and slipped it over the hood of her clit, pulling it tighter until she hissed. Her cunt was so incredibly stretched it looked like the entrance to a subterranean cavern, glistening with sweat and juice.

"Open up." He removed the plum and placed the other end of the shoelace into her mouth, making sure there was no slack. He told her to clamp the shoelace in her teeth. Her throbbing clit bent towards her belly from the strain. She started shaking her head left and right in response to the pain and pleasure. She was half-delirious, staring at her clamped pussy and roped clit.

Matt ran the microwave and returned to her, ripping off the eye mask, whispering, "It's not right to waste food." He removed his robe so that he was naked, and stood over his mother, facing her clamped pussy, his balls directly above her eyes. He held a steaming pitcher of cream of wheat above her cunt and poured it in. She started moaning nonstop. He stared at her swollen clit, bending back and forth as she swung her head from side to side. When the cereal overflowed her pussy, a river of white overflow streamed across the plug in her ass hole and down her ass cheeks, still banded from the last whipping on the ottoman. She stared as another torrent surged down her belly, pooling around the base of her striped breasts and coursing between them to her breastbone.

He held the willow and struck her belly, leaving a lurid mark there. She grunted like an animal. Quickly he came down fiercely again, at the beginning of her mound. Without pausing, the switch swooshed through the air smashing into her pussy an inch or two below her clamped lips, barely averting the swollen clit, so engorged it extended a half-inch above the cereal.

He knelt in front of her and poured cereal into her mouth, letting it accumulate. "Now I'm going to get more of my graduation present." Her mouth hung open, willing to have experienced any pain and degradation as long as he would finally fuck her. "You said you'd give me anything I wanted." He stuck his cock into her mouth, dipping it into the cream of wheat. "I've waited long enough." It was actually happening, she thought. The incestuous son was taking the next to last shred of dignity from his slave mother.

He stood and pushed his fat cockhead past the cruelly stretched lips into her cunt. He was surprised at how tight she was. She cried out as the fat head spread her open, in the throes of the glorious fuck she'd been anticipating for weeks. Immediately, she raised her body an inch or two off the floor, trying to grasp more of his prick, impatient for his whole length. He pulled on the clamps for support, spreading them apart another inch, waited several seconds, then lunged, his six inches invading all the way at once, cream of wheat spurting out all around her hole. "Yesss!" he bellowed, delirious at what a fantastic fuck she was. After weeks, he was finally fucking her and it was worth the wait. Without a gag, she screamed at the top of her lungs, her first cum of the night. He fucked her savagely for a few minutes as she watched his ass and balls directly above her, the heavy sacs knocking into her thighs with each brutal thrust. She realized she'd crossed a line permanently, her caned ass and pussy, clamped labia and tortured clit all leading to a boy viciously fucking the mother who had become his slave.