Practical Insanity Ch. 07-09

He did as she instructed and she climbed onto the bed between his legs, guided her cock back into his ass and began fucking him in the missionary position.

"This is nice. I missed seeing your face when you were bent over the bed."

He smiled, but it didn't seem like any additional words were needed, so he lifted his head slightly, trying to reach her lips with his. She closed the remaining distance and opened his mouth with her tongue, entering him in two places at the same time. Heaven, he thought.

But heaven on earth never lasts and this time was no exception. "Pet, I enjoyed this very much, but now it's time for a different kind of enjoyment."

She got up off him, stood at the end of the bed, and said, "Remove it and place it in the sink in the hall bath. You'll clean it and put it away later – not back in the closet. Put it in the nightstand where it will be handy."

He nodded and followed her instructions. When he returned, he saw her laying on the bed, corset off, and legs spread, "Thank me," was all she said.

The temptation was to jump on and start fucking. He'd been hard for 2 days now and it wasn't easy to focus on anything else, but she had said to thank her, not to fuck her, so he reined in his cock once more, said "Thank you, Mistress," and slid his tongue deep into her asshole.

After a few minutes, he began to lick her cunt, sucking gently at the lips, teasing her clit. He knew his best chance at an orgasm of his own was to please her. She knew exactly what he was thinking and smiled at what a good boy and fast learner he was. Susan Helmand laid back against her pillows and let her son lick her to orgasm after orgasm until she finally said, "Slave, give me your cock. I want to feel it in my pussy. You will cum tonight, but not until I am finished and give the command. Understood?"

"Yes Mistress," he said, realizing that this was in no way about him. He'd get to cum, yes, but he was sure that was more a training tool and a way of keeping him sexually healthy, than anything else. His dick was being treated like it was nothing more than one of the dildos in her drawer. She would use it until she was satisfied and only then would she allow him to orgasm. He felt like an object, a sex toy, a slave, and he loved her even more. He couldn't be quite sure what the source of it was, but he felt the desire to please her growing stronger, welling up inside him, taking him over, and driving out all other considerations.

Susan had considered allowing him to cum sooner, knowing he would easily get hard again that same evening due to his age, but she had a better idea. Instead, she would let him fuck her until she was fully satisfied, allow him one orgasm, and let his remaining sexual energy stay pent up, helping him to submit and serve. Even though he could easily go two or three times a night, she would probably only allow him to do that on very rare occasions. Control is everything, she thought.

They fucked for over an hour in various positions, various tempos, and he continued to make her cum long after she'd lost count of her orgasms. They both were surprised, and pleased, at his ability to wait for his own, but finally when she'd had all she could handle, she gave him the command he had been working toward, "Pet, you may cum. Fill my pussy with it."

That was all it took, that and 3 more strokes, to release what he was sure must have been the biggest load he'd ever shot. It just kept coming and coming, two full days of sexual tension let out all at once. When it ended, he collapsed next to her, nuzzling her neck, smiling, and breathing hard. She pushed his head down, offering her nipple to his mouth and he took it, not in a greedy, eager way, but in a way that let her know he was home, safe, satisfied, and had no desire to be anywhere else.

But she wasn't finished just yet. There was one more part of his training that she felt was important for this particular evening. She let him enjoy the afterglow for a few more minutes and then spoke, "Pet, I need to use the restroom. Come."

He raised his eyebrows but did not balk or hesitate as she led him into her bathroom and pointed to the large walk-in shower. "Down," came the command. He lowered himself to a sitting position. She said nothing but continued to point downward, until he laid flat on his back. She straddled him, spread her pussy lips with her fingers, and shot a long hard stream.

He felt the warm flow, smelled her piss, and was surprised to find that he enjoyed every bit of it, even when she shifted her stream to his face. He couldn't explain the urge to open his mouth, and held it that way until she overflowed his mouth. Her taste wasn't what he'd call good, but it also wasn't bad. He could do this going forward without dread.

Truth be told, he might even look forward to it. It was deliciously low and he had begun to understand that one of the things that appealed to him about being her slave was debasing himself in her service. Jim Helmand was a proud man, with good reason. He was smart, handsome, had accomplished much in his academic career, and had excellent prospects professionally. But worshipping her asshole with his tongue and being her personal piss target were ways he could demonstrate, with actions not words, the height of her pedestal. He was not "a slave." He was HER slave. He didn't need to serve someone to the degree that anyone would do. His Mistress would be someone special, worthy of such devotion, someone who could in his own mind, be so far above him that the feeling of her piss or her asshole on his tongue would seem like a gift from heaven. His mother was such a woman and he was happy to be right where he was – beneath her – literally and figuratively.

"Clean," came the command, and he obediently licked whatever last drops and residue he could find from her cunt.

"Now I'd like a nice shower, with you attending of course, and then to bed."

She turned on the water because he didn't yet know what temperature she liked. In the future this would be his job, but for tonight, he'd done quite enough. Well, almost enough, she thought. "Soap me, all over, and make me enjoy it."

He was gentle, but vigorous and she was a mass of bubbles in only a minute or two. She rinsed, rotating slowly in the shower stream, letting him savor the sight of hot water running off her nipples and down her body. And then, without warning, she stepped out saying, "Finish up and I'll see you in bed."

He watched her towel off and smiled to himself, wondering if all the nights, or most of them, or at least a lot of them, would be like this. No matter. Tonight was like this and if it was a long wait to the next such evening, memories of this one would feed and sustain him for quite a while.

Slipping into bed beside her, she again guided his head to her breast and let his mouth find her nipple. They both fell quickly to sleep, with the tug of his mouth on her breast the last sensation either of them felt.

Part 9

Sunday passed quickly and in a haze of forbidden sex, degrading submissions, the pool, the sun, lingerie, and nudity. More rules were laid down about how life in the house would be conducted. Mundane things were discussed like money, school schedules, and how to manage things with the maid.

It was decided that he would establish the appearance of using one of the empty bedrooms and, to some degree the fiction would be true. She certainly had no room for his clothes in her closet – and wouldn't have them there if she did. She had no desire to look at her dresser and see a man's things on it ever again – and she wouldn't. He would have his own space, for things, for study, for alone time, and for times when she simply did not want his company.

But each and every night, he would share her bed. Susan believed that was important to maintaining the bond of slave and Mistress. She knew some women preferred their slaves to sleep on the floor, but in her mind an unshared bed was a cold bed and the knowledge that a naked male was sleeping on the floor at her command would not provide the kind of warmth she sought.

She also instructed him to have for her, by next Sunday, a written service agreement that detailed the relationship he hoped to have with her. She would, of course, make changes as she saw fit before they both signed it. The term would be one year and he would have unlimited opportunity in the coming week to discuss things and ask questions of her to aid him in the preparation of it.

There were concerns on her side about what going back to school, reentering the "real world" might do to him, but there was no way to guard against it any better than she already had done. She felt she had taken possession of him, body and soul, and if it only lasted for one weekend it wasn't nearly as strong as she had believed. As for herself, she didn't think there would be any problem at all.

Putting on clothes and getting ready to face the day was an odd feeling for Jim. Odder still was the walk across the parking lot to his first class. Looking around him he was sure that nobody, not one person here, had a weekend like he had just experienced. It made him a little queasy to realize that if they knew, they would point and stare, laugh and mock, to the point that he would have to leave this college and move somewhere he was completely unknown.

Pushing those fears and doubts out of his mind worked, but only for a few minutes at a time. He was fine for a little while, and then he'd look at a teacher or another student and wonder, what if they found out?

By lunch the inner turmoil had built to the point that he wondered how he was going to make this work, but then he had the fortunate opportunity to overhear a conversation between two female students. It wasn't about anything much, their recent dates, school concerns, whether the parents would come across with enough cash for a decent spring break trip, just that sort of thing. But he heard it completely differently than he would have last week. A few days ago this conversation would have seemed normal to him, worth talking about, even interesting. Today it was childish, simple, and unappealing.

Neither of them gave the impression that they were inexperienced at sex, but hearing them talk about it was like listening to a freshman muddling his way through an algebra problem. They got to the end eventually but there was no art to it and it left the listener with no desire to hear more.

He realized he had crossed a subtle boundary this weekend in addition to all of the obvious ones. Before, he had been satisfied with sex that involved the body only. But this weekend had indoctrinated him into a new sex that fully engaged the mind as well. It was the difference between watery decaf and strong black coffee. He knew he wouldn't be going back to decaf again, probably ever.

So he was done with "girls" entirely. Even if he and his mother never did one more thing sexually, he knew he would only want to be with women, older women, from now on, an acceptable practice in today's world, if a bit on the fringe.

That only left the incest for him to wrestle with. But she was past menopause. There was zero possibility that a child could result from anything they did, so was the incest really a problem?

Clearly it was, but only if it ever became known. As long as they kept it their secret, it was no problem at all. People kept secrets every day, about sexuality, unethical behavior, unappealing ambitions, embarrassing past events, and no doubt much more. Why couldn't he?

The obvious answer was that he could, especially when the reward for doing so was enormous.

For the remainder of the day he went to class and had no further problems. He had reasoned them away and came to conclusions that were logical and sustainable over time and it felt good. He couldn't help wondering though, if his mother was going through the same process across town in her office.

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By the time her third patient had come and gone, Susan Helmand had experienced most, if not all, of what Jim had been dealing with. She buzzed her receptionist and said, "Give me 15 minutes before sending in Mr. Ellis please. I have some thoughts I want to jot down before I forget them. Thanks."

She leaned back in her chair and took a deep breath. "Enough of this nonsense," she whispered aloud to herself.

Mentally she listed the pros and cons of the situation she had put herself in. On the one hand, she was fucking her own son. So what? There wasn't going to be a pregnancy. What did it really matter then?

On the other hand, she was living at home like a Goddess with a beautiful nude male at her beck and call, serving her, servicing her, and eager to accommodate any wish or whim. A woman would have to be a fool not to want that.

On the one hand, if it were ever made public knowledge, she would probably have to shut down her practice and possibly even lose her license.

But on the other hand, who the hell is going to make it public knowledge? Not her certainly. Not Jim. And that left... nobody.

She was indeed done with "this nonsense."

Susan Helmand had created a world for herself that most women don't even know is possible on this earth. Of those who do know, most won't attempt to seize it and make it their own. And of those who try, most will fail because their own commitment isn't strong enough or they have made the attempt with an inferior male.

But where all of them had failed out of ignorance, lack of commitment, or unsuitable stock, she had succeeded brilliantly.

She smiled to herself as she said under her breath, "If my asshole doesn't deserve to be licked, whose does?"

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That evening, turning into her own driveway, she was pleased to see Jim's car already there. She stepped onto her porch, tried the doorknob, and was again pleased to find it open to her touch. Entering the house she saw her son, nude, come into the room where he dropped to his knees and then lowered himself until his palms and forehead were touching the floor.

She smiled, reached under her skirt and tugged the thong panties away, letting them drop to the floor. Kicking free of them, she walked over to where he was and tapped him three times on the shoulder. As he started to rise to his feet, she put a hand on his shoulder to keep him kneeling, then turned away from him, lifting the back of her skirt.

"Welcome home, Mistress," he said just before his tongue found its target.