Last August, less than two weeks after I turned eighteen, I found the door unlocked. There was dust in the hallway, and a weird smell was lingering in the air.
I thought we got robbed. I snuck in, instantly nervous to the point of trembling. It struck me, too, that my mom was supposed to be home today - I knew she called in sick for some reason or other. Now scared for real, I called out to her, but got no answer.
I looked inside... and stumbled upon her - alone, face-down on the coffee table in the living room, with her hands and legs handcuffed to it, her pale chubby naked ass up in the air because of a pillow tucked under her tummy.
"Mom!"
She moaned. I ran towards her and saw she was gagged and blindfolded. There was no hope that she haven't gotten fucked. Even at a glance, she was taken in all ways a woman could have been. Semen was on her face and hair, mixed with make-up, streaming down her cheeks and chin. Trying not to touch the spunk, I undid the leather belt and pulled the gag out of her mouth.
"Mom, what happened to you?!"
Mom spat out a mouthful of drool.
"Please. Untie me... ok? Dear, please."
I hastily pulled at the handcuffs. Then I noticed a key on the TV stand, grabbed it and tried freeing her hands, but the key did not fit. I ran around, trying cuffs on her legs, shocked at the whip lines all over her back and her bottom. Semen was drying on mom's lower back, slowly leaking between her ass cheeks. Her cunt, resting in a hairy puddle of goo, was red and gaping, white and yellow spunk caked inside and around it.
"Oh god, don't watch," she said, but I already saw it.
I was trying to unlock the cuffs.
"Mom, have we gotten robbed?"
"No, untie me."
"Mom, what happened?!"
She yelled at me. I jumped to the cuffs again, and it worked - her right leg was free. Mom stepped off the table, shifting her weight. I tried the other lock, but the key didn't fit. I whimpered.
"Where are the keys?"
"I don't know."
"Mom, where are the keys? I can't take these off... mom!"
"I don't know", she said. "Maybe left in the bathroom."
I ran there. Across the slippery floor were pieces of mom's underwear. Her bra lay whole in the corner, but her panties were in pieces. I saw stockings - with crotch ripped, and stains all over. On the floor, on the sink, in the shower were used condoms. There was piss in the toilet and on the floor. Lipstick was all over the mirror, with pink fingerprints, lip stains and wide vertical smears.
Having found no keys, I returned to the room and looked all over it. My thoughts were rushing. Was she forced? Why did she call in sick, though she wasn't? I imagined someone putting a thick cock across my mother's face, balls covering her mouth entirely, and spilling on her forehead, letting it fly over her head and onto the table where her fringe had sponged it. Was that before or after they whipped her? When mom was getting punished, was they fucking her, too? Was someone enjoying her cunt as he whipped her? Did she scream? For some reason, I imagined mom say "Fuck me, fuck my ass, sodomize me." I kept looking for keys, but they were nowhere to be found.
"Mom, I have no idea where the keys are," I said, walking towards her. "Mom... mom, are you ok?"
"I'm ok," she mumbled.
