Mark smiled, leaning back in the leather chair of the study with a pipe in his mouth. He didn't smoke one, personally, but there was something to the image of power of a man in 'his' chair with a pipe that he rather did like. It conveyed his status in the family, taking the place of his late father, and what was, truly, his rightful place as the right and just sexual head of the household too.
That was further demonstrated by the fact that his mother's lips closed around his shaft, sucking and bobbing her head obediently. Sarah sealed her lips around his cock and suckled wantonly every time she drew back to the tip, hardly allowing him to move at all for it was her job and place in the household to please him in every which way he could possibly desire, her body a vessel with which he could do as he pleased. Her blonde curls had loosened after bathing and still came with a hint of dampness, erotic in her unfinished state. As it was, she was merely a beautiful clay pot to him that required shaping, carefully so. The tattoo on her crotch, stretching up lightly onto her lower abdomen, denoted her to be his property and he groaned, rolling his head back and languishing in the exhilarating luxury of being, well, the king.
And was that not indeed a good place to be?
Maybe for him but not for his hypnotised mother, who could have been aware of what she was doing if he had allowed her to come out of her trance. But why would he do such a thing unless he was toying with the power he held over her? Mark could, after all, allow just the barest semblance of rebellion for the sole pleasure of quashing it beneath his thumb, cock sealing off any further protests as he fucked her mouth, pinning her back down to the sofa. The sofa creaked beneath them as she squealed, complaints devolving into the moans that he had lusted after for so many months and finally had for himself, murmuring her trigger just to slip her back into the state of hypnotism that made everything all the more delightful for the two of them.
Shuddering, he moaned in recollection, heat creeping through his body, desire uncontrollable in the most pleasant of ways. Just what man would have been strong enough too to resist its allure, he asked himself? He was just a man who had taken control through the incantation, her trigger phrase well and truly locked in, making his mother nothing more and everything of his submissive first of his sex harem.
But there was one other that he needed to immediately have under his control too; number one simply was not enough for him, as good as she looked in the lingerie he had her dress in to serve him, her king, and just how good her hot, wet mouth felt on his spear. There was a number two soon to come and it was just the woman who had spent so much time on the very day of his arrival striving to get hold of him while he was, suitably, otherwise engaged in far more carnally lustful matters than she may have wanted to consider for her grandson.
Hissing through his teeth, Mark twisted his fingers into Sarah's hair and held her head down as he ejaculated, pinning her there even as she hacked and gagged around his shaft, not ready for the tip to teasingly squeeze up into the back of her throat. Of course, she could have taken him if she'd been more with her senses but turning her into his personal cock-sucking servant was just another thing on his list of improvements that he would make to his mother. Yet all of that would come in due course and he raked his eyes over the paler red lingerie that he had sent her for, breasts free and lewdly on display, the 'cups' hardly doing anything at all as they cut far too low beneath the heavy spill of her tits and nipples. Just why, after all, would he have possibly have wanted to hide her best asset away? And there was so very much indeed that he could do with her glorious breasts...
That time, the phone did not ring, his grandmother already on her way to his mansion -- of course, now, as the head of the household, it was his mansion by rights -- most likely driven by one of her several personal chauffeurs. The family had most certainly landed on their feet in the world but that was hardly something he was going to complain about when he reaped the spoils day in and day out, luxuriating in pleasures that a lower class family would never have been able to enjoy.
As Sarah tenderly suckled down every last drop of cum he had to give her, golden locks falling across her flushed face as if she was shy in the moment, blushing from the subservience of being beneath him, exactly where she had always been supposed to be. Mark inhaled sharply, trembling up to her, fingers tight, although his control found its true place in far more secure ways.
It was time that Victoria learned of her new position in the family.
Mark's kingdom would be everything he dreamed it would be.
*
"Grandson..."
Her lips spread into a fixed yet warm smile, affection burning lightly through the air of strict discipline that her attire and manner of being usually gave off. Stiffly wrapping her taller grandson in her arms, Victoria allowed the hug in return, pearl earrings dangling. She wouldn't have worn such flashy jewellery in her younger days but it was something that simply seemed appropriate as the years wore on with her, the tides of time and change taking her along with them even as her ageing body seemingly refused to grow frail. Despite the years behind her, she would cling to life with the rigid vitality that she had so carried with her all the while, drawing despair to the heart of her late husband time after time again.
Yet that was all about to change. With her grey hair pulled back into a tight, prim bun that was too severe for the sharper angles of her face, flesh sinking back slowly as the years did indeed catch up with her in that manner at least, the light that should have come from such a smile did not quite reach her eyes still. Mark held her as stiffly, everything about their interaction formal and plain as if they had rehearsed it beforehand.
"How was your journey?"
"Did you enjoy the cherry blossoms on the driveway?"
"The gardens are lovely this time of year."
She did not ask about his research, his innovations and forward thinking in the field of archaeology -- what he had travelled all the way over to the country of India to study in the first place. As Victoria knew and understood nothing about that, it held no interest for her at all and she did not even bother touching on the topic. Just what was a man going to say to interest her, after all? And, to her, he had been such a boring child and no more interesting as he grew up. Why, he'd even needed her to prod and poke into his life just to get him packed up to boarding school and then sent off to college, all in the pursuit of at least something of an education. Their family name was all that, in her eyes, of course, lent him any credit to his education, although neither had Victoria ever truly thought to ask just what her grandson had achieved during the course of his studies or lifetime. It simply had never been of any interest of her and that most certainly did not change just because he was an adult.
The maid brought them tea, quietly moving in and placing all that they needed down before them on the fine china. Helga was in and out quickly, blonde hair tucked away as she said not a word, her traditional maid's garb setting her up to be prim and proper enough for the service she provided. Victoria didn't even look at her but that was not something that the German woman was going to waste any time worrying about at her age. After all, Mark had given her the rest of the day off and that meant more time with her family and loved ones.
Little did she know what Mark was going to be doing with his loved ones once she had duly left the building, a pot of perfectly brewed tea left in her wake and a cup already poured. Mark smiled in her aftermath, pressing the tips of his fingers together and nodding politely. He made the right polite noises in all the right places as Victoria talked and talked, conversation streaming over him where he had not a reason to join in. She had more than enough words in her to carry a conversation or far more than just two people and she didn't need him to interject either. Why, of course, would she desire him to speak words when she had no interest in that at all? She could fill in any supposed gaps in his manner of conversation well enough and another droplet of control in the pail that she had well and truly overfilled years ago was not going to make any difference in that regard.
And yet Mark was not a little boy anymore that could be pushed around. He was a man and a man with power under his belt, the will and knowledge to change the course of his destiny and that of those around him.
"You should drink your tea, grandmother."
Ah, now that was different. Inhaling deeply, Victoria's bosom raised as she drew herself up a little, a shrewd look in her eyes, wrinkled at the corners. In fact, most of her was wrinkled but she did not allow it to define her. It was more of an...accentuation of what had already been.
"Do not speak to your grandmother like that," she said, ice ringing through her tone, the clamour of the crack as the glacier melted. "What ideas have they put in your head over in that lord forsaken country, boy? I shall have you know that we respect our elders in our homeland."
He could have said that it was hardly their homeland when, in all honesty, they were migrants from another land to begin with. He could have made a polite noise and tipped his chin down, as he had done for so many years. It would have been easier not to argue, that was true, but something in him pressed up, a smile pulling the corners of his lips up as his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, the tingle of control drawing him in.
