By September, I had used the binoculars on the part-time maintenance staff, turning them into loyal workers, but also experimenting on them with various imagery, working to fine-tune the wondrous pair of magical binoculars. I had traveled back to the small store where the old woman and I did business, but the place had closed; the woman vanished into the ether. I combed the internet looking for news, discovering nothing, not even a manual. And if YouTube doesn't have a "how to" video, you know it's obscure.
My mother and I lived in a five-bedroom monstrosity in Del Mar that we would probably end up having to sell. Her name was Shari, and she won the lottery of shitty husbands. From Germanic stock, she stood at 5'9", and if you referenced a Venn diagram of Claudia Schiffer and Heidi Klum, you'd see my mother. There's a reason I fantasized about her.
The binoculars transformed her into a slave, dedicated to pleasing me. I was still her son, and it added to her arousal. As a symbol of servitude, both mother's nipples were now pierced with rings and had silver filigreed chains that led to the slave ring on her collar. I found it quite erotic; whenever I fastened my chain to her collar, mother would have a powerful orgasm.
I also purchased a set of normal binoculars for her to use. When I needed to prune her moral compass, I would substitute the magical version, but it wasn't needed much anymore. Remember, using a single image sent a powerful visual suggestion into the subconscious that influenced a person's core values. Due to that, care had to be observed.
Using double images worked best. It was less pervasive, taking longer to implant into the mind, but it seemed to be accepted better. An image I used on the staff was simply a photo of the word loyalty combined with a picture of me. When they began exhibiting loyalty, I would take a picture of myself with them, then add obedience to the mix.
Kenneth Estrada was head of the maintenance crew. I practiced on them, beginning with Ken. If someone resisted, it was important both he and I agreed if someone needed to be let go. He was a father of seven, one of them a daughter who had just turned eighteen. I had him show me a picture, and she seemed pretty enough for a test run. I found the girl in the photo to possess both an alluring beauty and a wholesome innocence.
"Does she still look like that, Kenneth?"
"Yes, Mr. Thomas, she is quite a handful, my Rosita. She's going to go to college soon!" He was so proud.
"Bring her by the house. I would like to show her around."
"Yes, Mr. Thomas."
It took me only three days to convert Kenneth into a loyal servant, and another three to ensure he would be okay with the corruption of his daughter. I asked about his wife, and it became a real possibility I might have to use the binoculars on her.
I know I had previously spoken about finding an ideal candidate for a wife, but I wasn't in a hurry. Indeed, I would need to refine my use of the binoculars to get to a point where my wife would be both a willing slave and help maintain the facade of normalcy. While it was true mother was now my slave, I had the steep challenge of finding a woman who rivaled her beauty. It was a tall order bar that spurred me on to make the correct choice that would last us the rest of our lives.
I also realized I wasn't intending to stop at two women, which leads me back to Rosita Estrada. With college starting, I was going to have a pool of beautiful women to choose from, but I enjoyed finding diamonds in the rough. This diamond would be over Tuesday morning. Kenneth would bring his daughter around, introduce her to me, and I would introduce her to mother, then to my binoculars.
Understand, I wasn't looking for outright subjugation of a poor young lady; indeed, I wanted her cognizant of her corruption. I wanted the deviancy to be a choice she made. My plan was to instill in Rosie an overpowering desire to see me have sex with my mother. Once this desire was ingrained, I would have fun with letting her see mother and me together.
As stated previously, I hadn't stopped looking for a wife. Besides combing the community, I looked to online mail-order bride sites, but they were such scams! It occurred to me that a woman with a darker, more exotic beauty would complement the fair skinned, sun kissed beauty of my mother. There was an olive-skinned brunette porn star who was a Ukrainian with the alias "Elizaveta." The woman seemed tall and gorgeous, her brunette locks full and curly with butterscotch highlights. She lived in Del Mar, and I wanted to find out more about her.
The other contestant was a winsome young lady, also in the area with skin the color of Umber and bright blue eyes. Her statistics had her at a diminutive five foot two inches, but she possessed intense blue eyes that I felt had to be fake. Her name was Julia, and she ran a yoga school. My approach would have mother privately hire her for one-one-one yoga lessons.
Besides call girls, escorts, and mail-order brides, I gave a thought to practicality. Both my mother and future wife would need a personal stylist and body piercing specialist. While I could pay thousands of dollars for one, I could pay nothing for a servant. I wondered if it was a good idea to find someone young to bankroll them while they went to school for either a body-piercing specialist or a stylist. Young Rosie could do either. I would have to find out which; I investigated cosmetology schools in the area.
My alarm clock went off, signifying the start of another Tuesday morning. It began as a pleasantly wet sensation, accompanied by a humming vibration that affected both my balls and diamond hard shaft. Next came the moaning, which, of course, signified my mother began getting herself off while she worked to get me off. The slurping noises, coupled with a gag or two now and then, pleased me. I was proud of mom for working to control her gag reflex so that she could deep throat me whenever the mood struck. It was still euphoric to grab her by the jaw or back of her head, or each ear and just start sawing in and out of her elegant lips and talented tongue. Sometimes a little variation was needed.
"Slave, I want you to fuck me."
Mother obeyed, releasing me from her mouth, bringing strands of spittle with her when she did, saliva and pre-cum smeared on her firm chin and around her mouth.
"Your will is mine, Master," she panted, switching positions with feline-like agility, impaling her bald, wet cunt onto my spit-shined cock with both a practiced ease and a low moan. Her slave collar had two thin silver chains that connected to each nipple, with a third connecting nipple to nipple, forming an erotic triangle. I loved watching mother's full breasts bounce, the movement of the chains, her rising excitement as her hips gyrated deeper and faster. Her stomach muscles clenched, and her pussy spat her juices around my invading member, her rib cage forming a near perfect upside-down V, as if I needed reminding how perfect her body was. Both yoga and regular sex worked wonders.
Pregnancy was something I didn't want. I knew if I bred her, it would mar her physical beauty. Call me selfish, call me a prick, just keep in mind she had a body built for sin. I wanted her to have that body for as long as possible.
Back to the sex. I gifted my mother's womb with my seed, causing her to orgasm as well. She eventually pulled out of me and moved down to make sure my cock was cleansed. We gazed lovingly into each other's eyes while she kissed, licked, and sucked on my semi hard prick. I loved calling her my slave during sex, but sometimes calling her mother was nice, too.
"We will have company today, mother."
She was surprised; this was the first I'd mentioned it.
"Is it someone I know?" she asked, while kissing the crown of my cock.
"No, she's the daughter of Kenneth, the head groundskeeper."
She smiled around my dick. "Kenneth's daughter? Is it a special occasion?"
"No, but we should make plans to entertain her this morning. Perhaps we could introduce her to birdwatching?"
Mother was happy. "That would be a lovely idea. Having another woman to speak to you would be nice. What is her name, Master?"
"We should start by calling her Rosita, but if she warms to us, we could call her Rosie."
"Everyone warms to you, Master," mother emphasized that fact by taking a loving slurp on my cock, "when is she coming over?"
"An hour," I said with a grin.
"That doesn't leave me much time to get ready, Master."
"Mother, we will need to use our normal names. Please refrain from calling me Master until we're alone. Can you remember that?"
"Yes, son," she obeyed, kissing the crown of my cock lovingly.
"I also want to remind you to dress conservatively. We don't want to scare away the young woman. Be on your best behavior."
"Yes, Casper."
"Now give me one last kiss on the mouth before you get yourself ready."
Sensuously crawling up my resting form, she planted a lingering, full kiss on my mouth. She tasted like my dick, but she was so beautiful I didn't mind. While mother prepared, I went downstairs and used the shower. I was, of course, prepared before she was. I did not know how complicated applying makeup was! My mother's routine took her 45 minutes, minimum. I was a fan of the finished product.
I was impressed when Kenneth introduced her. Rosita stood at around 5 foot 4 inches. The nubile young woman's hair was a shoulder length reddish brown and straight. Her nose was slightly larger than the rest of her face, but it added to her beauty. High, dark eyebrows and inquisitive almond eyes gave her a studious. However, she had applied too much black lipstick, detracting from her overall beauty.
Delightfully, Rosita's body was nicer in person. Her breasts were 34B and bell-shaped. The young lady tried her best to hide them inside a tight sports bra; obviously she was uncomfortable with them. A pleasantly rounded bottom that swayed invitingly when she walked was her best asset, no pun intended. The Estradas must have sheltered their kids, because her naivety was clear, accentuating her air of innocence I so desperately wanted to corrupt.
Kenneth, my mother, Rosie, and I conversed on the veranda. Mother and I served them, which confused the girl. I respected the staff, only berating them if they did something wrong, and they seldom did.
"Do you like birds, Rosie?" Mother asked, wearing a white t-shirt and black jeans that fit snugly around her dazzling figure. She had a shawl, but it was currently draped over the chair as we four sat, commiserating over food and drink.
