This story continues the series from Chapters 1 & 2. It contains graphic references to BDSM, incest and other taboo sexual activities, so if any of this offends you, please read no further. All characters in this story are over the age of 18, and nothing in this story is meant to represent any person alive or dead. It is all the process of the author's fevered mind.
Once again I would like to thank Hatsuda for his support and editing excellence.
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I awoke one morning with what must be the most superb, the most lascivious sensation any guy can ever experience. My mother was working her tongue around my cock, bathing it with her moist lips and stroking my morning woody close to explosion. She knew from experience the signs of my impending climax, and used her well developed oral skills to keep me on the edge for what seemed ages. I howled in desperation while she laughed, a low sensuous sound, knowing that, for a short time, she was in control. And guessing that I would punish her in ways that would give her intense pleasure. She sucked a good part of my cock into her hot, mobile mouth, running her tongue around the crown and sucking me until eventually I erupted into her, seeming to empty everything I had into her willing, exciting mouth. She swallowed every drop, and then licked my shrinking cock clean.
"Oh Sir, that was really delicious; you taste divine, although I know I'm in trouble for not asking your permission. How will you punish me?"
I laughed. "I should punish you by not punishing you," at which her face fell. "But perhaps ten strokes with my hand on your bouncy bottom might send the right message. And maybe five strikes on each nipple with the suede flogger to reinforce that message. Well, slut?"
"Oh god, yes Sir. Show me how naughty I am. Teach me to be a good girl for you. Please?"
Sally, my mother, my sub, my slut had developed a real fascination for just sufficient pain to heat her bottom and her tits, which translated itself into her pussy, making her so horny that I might have had to restrain her—not that I ever wanted to.
"Very well, slut, gown off and over my lap, NOW."
She jumped to obey, a wide smile on her face, and her smooth, pink white bottom angled to meet my spanks. First a couple of gentle caresses to get her skin crawling, and I heard her soft whimpers of desire. Then five hard smacks on each globe which created squeals of delight.
"Now, assume the position on the floor in front of me."
She hurried to comply, kneeling upright with her legs spread wide, but her heated bottom resting on her heels. Her hands rested on her thighs with her eyes focused on a spot on the carpet in front of her. Picking up the flogger, I instructed her to look into my eyes during this punishment, and she looked through half closed lids with a sultry expression on her face. My mother was going to enjoy this as much as I did.
Each stroke of the flogger fell across her hard nipples, and she gasped with pleasure each time.
She looked up at me with desire flooding her eyes.
"Oh god, Sir, you have made me so hot and horny. I need you so much."
This was how I most enjoyed her, caught between her need to submit to me and her need for release. "Please." Barely a whisper, but it conveyed her overwhelming need better than any shouts or screams.
There would have been no point in me refusing; my brain was now totally located in my cock and it was giving me irresistible messages about taking my mother, and taking her hard.
"Yes, slut, on the bed: you will ride me hard for my pleasure. You will not cum until I give you permission, understood?"
A deep, sensual moan was all the answer I needed, and in seconds, I was on my back with my mother straddling me, her weeping pussy positioned just above my rigid member.
"Slowly, now, mother, just ease me into your pleasure pit," with which she moved downwards almost painfully slowly as my cock slipped itself into her and she mewled in approaching ecstasy. Equally slowly, she rose until only the head of my cock was lodged in her pussy, but then excitement got the better of her and she plunged down with a screech of need.
"Bad girl," I said as she rose again, and I slapped her bottom hard on both cheeks. "Slowly, I said, and I meant it. I will decide whether we speed things up, not you."
"I am so sorry, Sir," she gasped and repeated the slow rise and fall as my cock progressively filled and emptied her clutching pussy.
Then I made the decision, and grabbed her hips, pulling her down hard. "Now fuck yourself hard on my cock, mother, but don't cum until I tell you."
She gasped, and began a feverish rise and fall, enveloping me in her hot, wet, needy centre, calling out my name and telling me how much she needed me and how good this all was. The perfume of her arousal grew, an intoxicating aphrodisiac that I neither could nor wanted to resist. I reached up, pinching and twisting her nipples, which caused her gasps and squeals to grow and her demands to become more frenzied. Her cunt muscles told me that she was getting close to release, and I slapped her again to warn her that her orgasm was under my control.
This lustful activity was having a marked effect on me as well. I could feel my orgasm gathering strength in my lower abdomen and moving towards my balls. I gasped out my demands—"make me cum, bitch," "give me everything you've got," "cum on my cock, slut," "show me you belong to me, whore," and more.
She moaned and tried hard to delay the approaching storm which I knew, from experience would break in a hot, screaming fury. The effort to resist her climax showed in her face, screwed up in concentration and submission, until I told her, "I'm near breaking point, mother, and when my load hits you, you may cum yourself; just a few seconds more,"
Her effort grew more concentrated and demanding, before, with a shout of triumph, I conquered her, flooding her with a glorious load of sperm. It took no more for my mother to react. With a fierce scream of release she thrashed and writhed on top of me before her body went rigid, staying that way for a few seconds. Then she collapsed, her tits mashing into my chest as she gasped for breath.
After a short time, she rolled off me, then moved close, covering my face with kisses and murmuring words of love and delight. I held her in my arms, revelling in the warmth and seductive silkiness of her body, her skin glowing and her hands soft and warm, stroking my body. Reluctantly, I prepared for another day of study; mum made a little moue of disappointment, but she knew how important my studies were, and she shared my enthusiasm for moving ahead.
I was in the university library talking to Phil Weston, a contemporary. We were both enrolled in the same program; although he was a couple of years ahead of me. I had discovered that Phil had had an affair with the wife of one of the lecturers, and if that had come out, he wouldn't've lasted five minutes in the uni. He was complaining to me about his situation and talking about quitting his degree.
"Why, Phil; what's causing this?"
"My mother is getting more arrogant and more demanding. She's pushed herself really hard since dad left, and now she's pushing me hard as well. I wish there was some way of getting through to her, but she won't listen."
"You may have to take a strong line, Phil; she won't just buckle under because you're upset."
"Easier said than done, man," he concluded and we went our separate ways.
At home that evening, I said to mum, "Does the name 'Weston' ring any bells with you? I seem to remember you making some reference years ago, but I can't put my finger on it."
Unexpectedly, she blushed and cleared her throat. "Mmm—the woman who introduced me to Blake Sheldon was Ellen Weston; she had been a member of the cult for some time. Why do you ask, honey?"
My mind went into overdrive. "Oh no particular reason, mum, but I have a close friend at uni, Phil Weston, and I wondered whether there was any connection."
"Probably, honey; she had mentioned a son of about your age."
"Mum, would you be okay if I invited Phil round for coffee and a snack one afternoon. I'd like to introduce him to you—and all your skills and abilities!"
"Are you sure that's safe, Sir; we could get into terrible trouble and ..."
"Don't worry about that, mum. I want to show him how satisfying it is to have my mother as my sub, and maybe encourage him to do the same with his mother."
She gasped. "Oh god, do you think that's possible? Ellen Weston is a much tougher proposition than I could ever be."
"The bigger they come, the harder they fall, mum. Don't worry, everything will be alright?"
"Okay, Sir."
The next day, Phil and I were drinking coffee and I introduced the subject of incest. His curiosity was immediately obvious and I outlined my relationship with my mother. His eyes stood out on stalks and his voice shuddered as he said, "Man, that's just unbelievable. You've got to be kidding me."
"Well, if you are prepared to eat those words, come round to my place on Saturday around 4.00 pm and I'll show you."
He looked at me in astonishment, but nodded his agreement.
On Saturday precisely at 4.00 pm, the doorbell rang and mum invited Phil in. I had specified how she would dress; a floral sun dress with a flared skirt, no bra or panties but stockings with a garter belt and four inch heeled sandals. All this complemented by enough but not too much makeup but with scarlet enamelled nails. She looked delicious with her brown hair flowing freely around her shoulders and a light fresh perfume, the whole of which made a profound impact on my cock.
"Please come in, Phil," she greeted him with a dazzling smile and showed him into the lounge.
"I see you've met mum," I commented and he nodded, somewhat taken aback by her enticing looks. "Some coffee and snacks, I think Sally,"
"Yes Sir," she replied and left the room.
"Did she really call you Sir, Simon—or was she just being sarcastic?"
"Oh no, this is just the start."
My mother returned and, as per instructions I'd given her earlier, she was especially attentive to Phil, who lapped it up. She referred to him as "Sir" and was quite tactile, resting a hand on his shoulder and touching his arm as if by accident. I could see Phil getting quite excited and it was time to take it up a notch.
As mum re-entered the lounge, she tripped and some biscuits fell to the floor. Mother gasped and looked at me. "I'm so sorry, Sir what can I do to ..."