Gabriel's Story

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.

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My mom is a slut. That's how those gratuitous incest videos start that all the freshmen college boys are into. Undoubtedly the result of unresolved mommy issues because they weren't breastfed enough. There is no end to the fantasy porn that is available of this kind. It's impossible not to be aware of it even if you aren't hot for your mom or a guy. So yeah, I'm a woman and my mom is a slut.

Now before you start thinking that I have a kitty fetish. When I say "slut" I mean that as; she is sexually active, without limits and promiscuous. I also mean she has a Dom. And it's not my dad.

I don't know who my dad is which hardly seems unusual considering. Her Dom, Carson Dietz, Mr. Dietz to mom and I, who she lives with, as did I until moving to college last year, sexually exploits her in the extreme. Now that kind of knowledge coming to a nineteen year old could be detrimental to a girl's self-esteem if she weren't well adjusted, which I am. Though what I'm going to tell you might make you think that is debatable.

Mom is a fit and attractive late thirties white female. Yes, those college boys would call her a milf. Mr. Dietz has her on a very strict fitness regimen and has done so for as long as I can remember. She's got hard washboard abs, toned legs and at thirty-eight tits high on her chest with no sag. I'm fit too. When I was a kid it was fun to workout with mom. We made a game of the workouts. Then it became a competition to see if I could first match mom and then later if I could out do her. Let me tell you that a woman that spends a lifetime working out is next to impossible to out exercise, but by then fitness had become a habit for me too.

I'm an ethnically diverse college age gym rat woman with caramel skin, a mass of tightly curling dark brown hair and a cute little nose. I'm also smart. Well, book smart anyway. You'll see what I mean in a moment.

As I said earlier, I used to live with my mom in Mr. Dietz' home until moving on-campus last year, it's the only home I've ever known. Growing up was great. Mr. Dietz is an enlightened, fair and generous parent. I never thought there was ever anything unusual about calling him "Mr. Dietz" instead of "Dad", nor about the very specific household rules he imposed on us, because mom follows them too. When I was a kid, discipline in the home was always straight forward consequences of actions. Mr. Dietz never spanked me. His consequences are always more fiendish than that, but I never forgot a lesson or rule afterward. He was encouraging and helped with my schoolwork. He taught me all manner of useful skills, and I treasure the time we spent together on chores or projects. I just never thought there was anything unusual about calling my father figure by his surname instead of "Dad", or that there is anything unusual about looking different than my parent.

Now, just because I was never spanked doesn't mean there weren't any spankings. I just thought it normal that when mom broke a rule or underperformed spankings are what parents do. I thought it happened the same way at my friend's homes. So, you see that in a sense I was very naïve and unobservant. Not quite that smart, huh?

So, yeah, he spanked mom. Every time she broke a rule, immediately. He'd take her over his knee and raise her skirt (very rarely did she ever wear pants, though this wouldn't deter him), lower her panties and spank her bottom until it was red. I sure didn't want that to happen to me, but I thought that that was just what a husband does with his wife when she disobeys. I'm cool with that.

That's right, I thought they were married. It just never occurred to me that it was any other way despite the lack of marital/family jargon in use in our home. You know the kind; "honey, darling, dad, we, the Dietz'" and so forth.

So how do I know that my mom is a slut or that she's Mr. Dietz' sub or that he shares her with others? Well, I love my mom. We did normal family stuff too. We have pictures together. There is this great one of her and me after I won a school tennis tournament. She was so proud. I was giddy. We couldn't stop smiling and laughing because I had just beat the district's top player. Totally improbable! Mr. Dietz praised me non-stop and took a picture of us cheek to cheek. The picture is next to my bed at the dorm. I love that picture.

Cassie, my roommate, and I are besties. We like the same things, we watch the same things, we laugh at the same things, we wear each other's clothes, we share secrets and we finish each other's sentences. So it is only natural that she noticed that I look different than my supposed parents. I say supposed because Cassie just naturally assumed that I was adopted. That wasn't what tipped her off that things weren't exactly according to Hoyl at my home though.

It was this. Cassie has a boyfriend. I don't. Lots of guys have asked me out on dates. I am a hot chick after all, five-five with pert breasts. Some I've accepted; others I've not. Some guys have tried to get handsy, but they've found out what I can do to a thumb. Cassie and Gavin on the other hand are a pair, very cute together. I like him. They seem so normal together. They talk responsibility. They talk goofy. They talk about their future. They spend quality time together not just the staring into each other's eyes canoodling time, real quality time. They also take time apart to be individuals. They'll be very happy together for a very long time. I'm very happy for them both. And I'm not jealous because, again, I'm a well-adjusted individual. That's the way Mr. Dietz raised me.

I know, I see the obvious contradiction too. More on that later. Cassie had a secret from me.

We are all young, full of verve and impetuous. So it shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone that Cassie and Gavin are getting busy. She's hot too. My size, nice round boobs and a knockout smile. It wasn't to me either the first time she didn't come back to the dorm after their date. But, it's cool. She's a responsible adult and I know she practices safe sex. When she came home in the morning after one of their long date nights she was all happy. I knew they had been particularly rambunctious as Cassie had not even attempted to fix her lustrous blonde hair.

I remember that I was half dressed for the day with my skirt on but only my shear copper bra on top which looks so good against my skin while I fixed my hair. Her first class was an hour after mine which is why the date had lasted all night. Maybe she'd make it; maybe she wouldn't. She sat on the bed facing me and talked about how wonderful life is and about Gavin and how happy she is and how the birds sing so sweetly while working a brush through her hair. Gag. And before you ask, no, she didn't describe her evening which I didn't want to know about anyway. That would come later.

I had my blouse on and my bag in my hand before I realized that she'd stopped talking. When I looked she was staring gape-mouthed at the picture of me and mom. When I asked her if she was alright all she said was, "I've seen her!" Perhaps you see somewhat where this is going now.

"Well, yeah. You've seen her lots of times," which is true, because she always lunches with us when my mom comes over to see me.

"No, I mean that I've seen her," with emphasis on the "I've seen." As there didn't seem to be any more forthcoming and she didn't look like she was delirious. I shouldered my pack and headed to class. Of course, that turned out to be pretty useless as I thought about what she could mean all day. When I got back to our room she wasn't there and she didn't come back all night again. I was a little worried and then I noticed the picture was gone.

Now I'm not the kind of person who either panics or over reacts, but I can tell you that I was upset and I knew that she had taken it. I didn't think that she would do it any harm and I trust her to do right. But with that strange statement I was a little concerned. I called but she wouldn't answer. Mr. Dietz had taught me how to remain calm and not speculate about mighta-beens, so I dressed for bed, boy short bottoms and a half shirt top that stops just under my breasts, and got some sleep. It wasn't good sleep but I managed. The next morning the picture was back and Cassie was sleeping soundly naked in her bed. Later when I questioned her about it she just pretended not to hear me. I let it lie until she was ready to talk. We are best friends after all.

She didn't talk about it that evening or even the next day or the next week and so I forgot about the incident. What she did though was start asking pointed questions about my family life. Not in any interrogation way, just sorta in passing. Not thinking anything of it I just answered truthfully and as she didn't pry or react to my answers it just slipped from my mind. I only realize she was investigating my family relationships now after they explained things to me.

So the whole semester goes by and we've finished exams, packed our stuff for the Christmas holiday and made ready to head home. Gavin brings pizza to our room and we kick back to relax a little and chat. Cassie asks me, "What's your whole name?"

Kinda a strange question from my bestie, I thought. Laughing I say, "Gabriel Lane Patrick, how do you do, what's yours" sticking out my hand?

She shakes my hand. Gavin laughs with us and she asks, "What's your mom's name?"

"Ok, 'I'm Gabriel Patrick, daughter of Dinah Patrick, all hail!'" as I strike an imperial pose. We all laugh at that. She just waits. So like I said there is smart and then there is not-so-smart. It's really just a matter of what assumptions that a person is raised on. Because the question had never come up before I never challenged the assumption, and; of course, I still didn't see the connection.

After a moment, Cassie asked me, "Are you adopted?" She said it small and quiet which made me think there was something out of the ordinary about this conversation.

"No, I'm not. Why are you asking me about my family?"

"What do you know about your dad?"

"Mr. Dietz is a great father. He's..."

"Not him. What do you know about your father?"

Oh, there it was! I just stopped, "I don't ...know..." Cassie was already looking at the picture next to my bed. I looked now also, not at the picture of my mom and me that I love so much, but of a white woman and a mulato girl cheek to cheek. My mouth hung open. Sometimes it really does take a ton of bricks to fall in order to see the obvious.

I love my mom and have never felt anything but love from her. But now suddenly I realize that she's kept a secret from me all my life. I felt shock and betrayal. My mind scrambled to reconcile what I thought I knew with what was before my eyes. My mouth worked without sound. My mind raced. I stood. I sat down. I stood again. I gibbered. And then I stopped. Mr. Dietz taught me when the shocking happens; slow everything down. I sat. I closed my mouth and I thought.

Cassie, Gavin and I went through the evidence together. Clearly my father was non-white, so Mr. Dietz can't be him. Duh. He's a medium size white fitness junkie. I could be adopted? We checked out my birth certificate. Dinah Patrick is listed as my mom, but the father line is blank. Maybe my mom had an affair or there was another man before she met Mr. Dietz. There were several very normal explanations that could account for my mixed heritage. Nothing had changed about the loving home that I had grown up in, so I would just ask mom about dad when I got home. I relaxed.

Cassie wasn't done though. I'm sure you can see where this story leads, but I assure you that sitting in the situation none of this so far; nor, what would come next could be anticipated. "Honey, there's more. I have a secret." Now I don't like being talked down to any more than the next person, but the way she said "Honey" checked my pique.

"I like to be spanked," she said.

What does a girl say to that? I've just learned that the man who raised me is not my dad. Really not that unusual; happens to adopted kids all the time. But that just comes out of left field. There's no context for it. "Hey, your family isn't your family; I like my ass whipped!" See what I mean? It just doesn't go together, except I do have a context for at least the second half of that statement if not the first part. Mom gets spanked. Again I couldn't reconcile the information. And I certainly didn't want to know details about Gavin and Cassie's idea of sex play.

She told me anyway.

"Do you remember the morning that I said, 'I've seen her?'?"

"Yeah."

"The night before, Gavin and I were returning from the movie and I playfully bit his ear as we were walking. He yelped and I leapt away and he started chasing me through the commons. We played a kind of tag until he caught me. Then he pulled me over his lap and spanked my ass hard. I was laughing and kicking and he was calling me a 'bad girl' when we both realized that we were getting really turned on."

Ewwww! I mean, I certainly could see that this story was going to lead to sex which I already knew that they had done, and I could equally see that she was going to give me all the nasty details whether I wanted to hear them or not. It was the turning what I had always thought of as normal, healthy discipline into sex play that was nauseating. Honestly, if I thought about it, which I was doing now, I always imagined that my husband would bend me over his knee and spank my bottom if I failed to obey. That's just what husbands do to wives I thought. To get sexually aroused by that was just completely outside of the realm of possibility.

"We raced back to his room where he yanked down my pants and spanked me until I was screaming and promising never to bite again. When he finished I couldn't wait for him to get his own clothes off. He was harder than I had ever seen him before and I was ready and practically peeing I was so juicy. That was the hardest that he'd ever fucked me. And the orgasms we both had? God I'm wet just telling you about it." Gavin was also clearly getting excited to tell by the bulge in his jeans though he was blushing at Cassie's candor.

"Yeah, well, not what I want to hear," I said.

"I've got to tell you that part so you'll understand the next part."

"I don't want to understand the next part, or even hear it, thank you very much," I said totally grossed.

"But you need to hear it. After we finished the first time," I started to interrupt but Cass shushed me. "We talked about what happened. Then we thought about finding out more about spankings, so we went online. Let me tell you that that is not the kind of thing you just want to plug into your search engine. After weeding through all the creepy stuff we found a couple of sites that said they teach safe discipline.

"There is an amazing amount of information about the subject. Some of these guys could teach whole courses on spanking. You can find things like different devices such as paddles, crops and whips as well as the ever popular hand; methods for inflicting the most pain/stimulation without injury; safe words; health; terminology; organizations and more. Most practitioners live every minute this way."

"This is how you want to live," I couldn't help asking confused as to what this had to do with my dad?

"No. I just like it when Gavin slaps and spanks my ass. It makes me really wet. Oh, we play act that I've been naughty, but I'm not into being controlled like that. They're called slaves or subs and they live completely at their Dom's command. Some of the things that they do are truly repulsive. But, that isn't the point."

Let me say it again, EWWWW! Now I'm imaging her and Gavin. It's easy to do. Cass likes to sleep in the all together so I know exactly what her 'ass' looks like. And it's not hard to visualize her lying over Gavin's lap with his hard dick pressed into her side as she kicks her legs and tosses her hair crying and screaming as he delivers blow after blow to her bare, round bottom. Not hard at all since I've grown up seeing that very thing happen to my mom. But now what I had always thought of as totally normal had been turned gross and perverted. Ewww! "Thanks, now I'm going to be stuck with that image. So what is your point?"

Cassie continued, "My point is this; we kept digging and found an interesting site that purported to teach disciplining without all the leather bondage kink humiliation stuff." She was practically bouncing as she said this.

"This is what we opened," Gavin said turning his laptop to me.

I swear to god that if I live to be a hundred I will never, ever get that image out of my mind. The web page was called In Slave D©. The image was Mr. Dietz in a very crisp suit and a woman that I absolutely knew to be my mom kneeling naked with her legs spread awkwardly exposing her shaved crotch, back arched, breasts thrust forward, arms bound in what I later learned was called a sleeve behind her back, her bob-cut hair held in place by a mask with red marks on each nipple pierced breast no doubt from the riding crop in Mr. Dietz' hand, and a leash trailing from the thin collar around her throat to his other hand. They both wore matching stylish masks, but you can't live with a person for most of two decades and not know every nuance about them. I knew them both. Besides, there is the choker. The same one mom is wearing in the picture of us next to my bed; the same one that I had never seen her without even showering and dressing after workouts together. And then there is the blemish on her right hip. I looked at the scar for I could now see it for what it truly was. I never thought about it and we never talked about it but in this new light it hit me that that is a brand. I ran to the bathroom and puked.

There is an inherent desire in all of us to control our surroundings and most especially those around us. That is the urge that drives (mostly men) to engage in this behavior. And I know from personal experience that that is exactly what Mr. Dietz desires. He is very good at it. There is a competing desire in all of us to be freed from the burden of personal responsibility. It is so much easier to have someone else make all the decisions. Mom is very good at following.

After I brushed and rinsed Cassie and Gavin went on to explain how participants in this lifestyle describe what happens as a voluntary power transfer. I wanted to transfer right out of that conversation. They called it a lifestyle like people put on clothes. They were talking about my life. Finally, I just grabbed my things and went to kiss Cass bye but stopped. I had my arm around her shoulder about to press my lips to hers like we have done every time either of us has gone home. Suddenly I started seeing normal, wholesome behaviors between friends and family differently. Right then I was thinking about what her lips felt like. I thought about how they are full, soft and yielding. I thought about the taste of the strawberry balm she favors during the winter and the pink color she uses when she goes out with Gavin. I could smell her floral body wash and perfume. My reaction to these thoughts wasn't chaste anymore. Instead I thought about the woman nearly in my arms as a sexually desirable being. This was freaking me out. I pulled away.

Cass looked confused. I told her that I was overwhelmed by everything they had told me and needed time alone to get a handle on it all. I told her that I loved her and left. No kiss.

I knew that she was hurt. Somewhere in her heart she realized I was really in the dark about the closest people in my life. Maybe she thought that I was being lied to or even that I was being manipulated for some nefarious purpose. I really believe that she thought she was acting in my best interest when she imploded my family history. But another part of her was excited by what she was learning and saw a place of power over me. By revealing the strange relationship of my mom and Mr. Dietz she could push me to do what she wanted. Take control over my decisions as it were. Because when I got right down to the bottom of what had happened it turns out that I really didn't need to know. What has been going on between mom and Mr. Dietz has nothing to do with me.