There were a few problems with my mom, Celine. The first was that she was an absolute slut. Working as a bartender, she'd fucked her way out of her marriage to my dad by the time I was five. In her mid-forties she still looked like she was barely twenty. I'd seen her parading around the house naked enough to know.
Big firm natural D cups, and a figure that was just pure porn ready. She'd generally bring some rando home a couple times a week for drunken sex, and was probably doing some back room shit at work as well. Heart of gold, but easy didn't even begin to tell the story.
I'd gotten home from work and mom was sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of Scotch.
"What's up, Mom?" I'd asked.
"I don't know, I feel bummed out, depressed." She looked up at me blankly.
"How come?" I wondered.
"I just feel lonely. Like I'm just spinning my wheels...over and over. It's just..." She stopped.
"Just what?" I prompted.
"I keep sleeping with guys, but it's just physical. Nobody really cares about me." She said in a flat tone.
"Why is that a problem now, Mom? Seems like you've always been doing that, for as long as I can remember." I observed.
"I'm a slut. I know. I wish I wasn't. I keep hoping I'll find some guy that can fix me. I just feel broken." She said.
"You don't have to..." I answered.
"I don't even think about it. And it feels real good at the time, having a man inside me. Just afterwards, when he's gone, and I realize I didn't even catch his name, but I've got his cum inside me. There's something wrong with me." She sobbed.
She wasn't wrong about that. It would wax and wane, but when she was horny, she wasn't picky, and I knew for a fact that even a few of my friends had had a turn with her. It didn't exactly make me feel proud of her. If anything, it made me feel self-conscious. Her idea of self-control was all after the fact.
I had had a steady girlfriend, Alana. We'd been virgins and we learned a lot about sex with each other. Eventually she'd fielded the idea of kink and we'd gone down that path with me assuming the Dominant role and her the submissive. When she left for college, we kind of decided to end things. I didn't want her feeling obligated, and she conceded that it was going to be a huge challenge not having her needs met, so it was better this way.
Now, looking at Mom, I kept thinking of Alana. I knew that Dad had tried to reign Mom in. But he really wasn't wired for that. He'd kept trying to reason with her, and while it had some effect, it was always temporary at best. And left to her own devices she'd backslide sooner rather than later. It broke my heart to see that happen over and over again, but on the other hand, I loved my mom.
It wasn't even really an idea. More like a reaction.
"Mom?" I said.
"What, Perry?" She answered.
"What if there was someone who cared enough about you to help you?" I said.
"That would be nice, actually. But I can't even imagine who that would be, or how they could help me!" she replied.
"I could." I stated.
"How?" she wondered.
"When Alana and I were together, we started to get into kink. She was naturally submissive, and I think you are too." I explained.
"So, what if I am? You would want to Dominate me?" she asked.
"Yes, something along those lines." I replied.
"How would it work?" she asked.
"There would be rules. Breaking the rules would have consequences. You would have tasks. Based on how well you did them you'd be rewarded, or...punished. If you were to agree to such an arrangement, it would be irrevocable, and I would be totally in charge." I said.
"It sounds weird." She commented.
"I agree. But you're a train wreck, Mom." I pointed out.
"I am, I guess... tell me more." She asked.
"I would be your Dominant. You would be my submissive. I will have your best interests at heart at all times and you will trust that I do. Any orders I give you are to be obeyed. Any failure to do so, will be met with punishment. Do you agree to submit to me? Your son?" I offered.
"I guess?" she answered.
"Not good enough. Do you agree to submit to me?" I said sternly.
There must have been something in my tone of voice that got to her, because her eyes suddenly softened, a contemplative look on her face. I took her hands in mine and looked unflinchingly into her eyes.
"I submit to you, Perry." She whispered.
And basically, that's how it began. My intention at the start was that it would be strictly non-sexual. I think that in hindsight, looking at Mom's past history, I was horribly naΓ―ve. I had contacted her manager at the bar and told him to let me know if anything was amiss. Three weeks later, he texted me that she'd been flirting with a customer, in a way that he knew all too well was usually a precursor to sex. Later that night she got her first spanking.
I was waiting there for her when she got in from her shift. Having her drop her pants and panties, she protested profusely that she hadn't done anything wrong. I bent her over my knee and spanked her ass until it glowed red and I could feel heat coming off of it. At first she squealed with each impact. Then she grunted a bit. And towards the end she moaned perversely. I checked her pussy and where she'd been bone dry when we started, she was now wet as fuck. Mom was getting off.
But it had had its intended effect. She complained about being too sore to sit comfortably for the next few days. We'd talked about it the following morning, just so that she was clear on what was expected. She admitted to getting aroused by the spanking and looked at me with a bit of a wild sparkle in her eyes, and this intense look on her face. She looked so hot right in that moment, that I could feel my cock shift in my shorts.
She was good for a couple of weeks and then I got word that things had gotten a little rowdy at the bar and she'd flashed her tits to a bunch of young guys.
When she'd gotten home, I had her sit in one of the kitchen chairs and take her top off amidst protests. I produced the nipple clamps and attached each one, increasing pressure until she was gasping her apologies, and complaining that she hadn't had sex in so long, that she should be allowed. That was kind of when it happened.