Dean sat alone in the empty university library and stared vacantly at the computer screen. It had been three months since he broke up with Charlotte.
She told all of her friends that Dean was locked up in her chastity cage, begging to be let out for a ridding. All of her friends idolized her even more after believing the story. Dean knew that it was something she made up to save face and get revenge, but who would believe him?
As humiliating as that was, Dean was just relieved to know that Charlotte wasn't pregnant. If she had been, then he would have already heard about it. He was in the clear but still couldn't believe that he had taken such a stupid risk and given up so much for a fleeting moment of attention from the young alpha femme.
He looked down at his phone again to see if Derek had replied to his message. He wanted to study with him for the upcoming finals. After several hours; still nothing.
"Had he heard the rumours!? Surely, he didn't believe them!" Dean thought.
A text came in from Derek, "Sorry bro I really gotta train tonight. Maybe next week."
That was the first time that Derek had ever come up with an excuse not to study. The two of them had studied together consistently over the last couple of years. Dean didn't know of any male students that were as motivated as the two of them.
They both grew up in progressive households that were ruled by authoritarian mothers who were followers of Dibella. Their shared rebellion was something that they had really bonded over.
For years he dreamt of would working alongside Derek so that they could secure top grades in their course and prove the school and their mothers wrong. But it looked like Derek had begun to believe the rumours and didn't want to hang out anymore.
Sleeping with a publicly outspoken advocate for femme supremacy was a shameful betrayal. Dean may as well have publicly endorsed her vision of matriarchy.
He didn't feel sorry for himself; he knew that he had crossed a line. As a boy who believed in equality, he had no business dating an open femme supremacist like Charlotte Femworth. The promise of status had gone to his head and now he felt like nothing more than a common whore.
He let out a reluctant sigh of defeat, got up from the desk and went to have his lunch with Stephanie. When he was out in the hallway, he walked past a couple of girls smiling at him as if they knew him but they didn't look familiar at all.
"Hey blue balls! HAHA!" they chimed together in a mocking tone.
Dean felt violation enter his body like an electric shock coursing through his stomach and up to his head. He seethed with anger but knew that he couldn't do anything about it so he looked to the floor and kept walking.
"We know you are still wearing her cage!" one turned to call out.
"She still owns you buck!" the other chimed in.
Dean kept walking and touched his pouch for a moment to remind himself that it was lie. He was free from her.
--
Later that afternoon he took the bus home and walked the same route that he had walked a thousand times before. It was comforting to have something in his daily life that wouldn't change. Stephanie was also a faithful contant despite all of his flaws. She never bought the rumours about him for a second and had actually managed to cheer him up over lunch.
She had warned him that the entire relationship with Charlotte had been a terrible mistake, but this time she didn't seem happy about being right. She was nothing but compassionate and perhaps a little disappointed in him.
Dean felt a knot form in his stomach as he neared his house. He hated being at home ever since his mother had gotten a boyfriend. Apparently, she had met him through an exclusive introduction agency that her new boss had signed her up to. Ricardo was only about 5 years older than Dean, making him 30 years her junior. Rick and Dean did not get along.
Upon arriving outside his house, Dean noticed a shiny black sedan parked on the driveway. It was unfamiliar to him. A puzzled frown formed on his brow as he walked towards the door.
"There is no way that Rick could afford that car. Who else is here?!" he pondered.
He opened the front door of his house and instantly heard urgent feminine screams before he could he could even close the door behind himself.
"Somebody is in the house! Is mom ok!? What if Ricardo is attacking her!?" his mind raced through the possibilities. He left the door ajar to avoid alerting the attacker of his presence.
A second later, he was sure that the screams were his mother's and that they were coming from downstairs.
"Was it male rights terrorists? How did they get the address to target mom?" he thought.
His heart jumped into a sprint as he moved across the soft carpet and past the staircase that was positioned in front of the entrance. Panic swept over him when he realized that he didn't have a weapon.
"What if the intruder was armed?!" he thought.
He paused just before reaching the entrance of the living room to his right. With his back to the wall, he listened more closely. There was a familiar pop song playing louder than normal. Dean's eyes went wide when he heard the distinct sound of a something striking flesh and the aggressive grunts from his struggling mother.
"She's in trouble! I have to go now!" he told himself.
Without peaking around the corner, he dashed into the living room and did his best the draw the attention of the attacker before he could do any more damage.
"HEY!" he shouted in his most intimidating voice.
His eyes darted around the room for a man, Ricardo, a stranger, anybody. But nobody was there. All he could see was his mother sitting on the couch facing the TV that hung on the wall opposite. From the height of her head he could tell that she was slouching.
Dean wondered for a moment if the sounds that he herd were coming from the TV. But it was just playing a film clip for one of his mother's favourite songs so he was sure that the sound wasn't coming from there.
After a quick pause, his mother's screaming continued to intensify and her head fell back onto the headrest. This was a different sound: relief, release, pleasure, sexual pleasure.
Dean froze like a deer caught in headlights as reality collapsed into a single remaining solution in slow motion. All that he could hear was his mother in the height of ecstatic release and the familiar chorus sung by a powerful feminine voice.
"Shake what the Goddess gave ya. All ma bucks getting me them Eleanors..."
A boy on the screen wore nothing but a g-string pouch which jiggled in time to the music. Several one-hundred credit bills were tucked into his waistband with the grinning face of the first UN president Eleanor Primrose printed on them.
After a moan that seemed to last an eternity his mother took several deep breaths.
She looked down and spoke up aggressively, "No! Get all that juice or no orgasm for two more days! Good boy!"
Dean slowly backed away for a moment, then a naked Ricardo stood up from behind the couch. He wore a leather choker and his penis was embarrassingly at full attention. He had a creamy white substance around his mouth and his face was so wet that clear fluid was running down his neck.
That sight annihilated any remaining hope that Dean had for an alternate explanation. Ricardo had been giving his mother cunnilingus. After seeing Dean, he turned around to hide his nakedness only to reveal bright red backside contrasting with his olive skin. The noise that Dean herd was his mother spanking her boyfriend while he pleasured her.
