Part 4
The click of her low-heeled mules across the tile floor gave her reassurance, confidence, in what she was about to do. She sat on the plush white sofa and waited for him to appear. When his sheepish face showed itself, she said calmly and firmly, "Go shower now. Come back in your shorts. We'll discuss this."
Jim moved quickly down the hall, happy to be out of her sight and happy that some sort of normal seemed to have returned to her voice. It wasn't over, but it was a lot better than the harshness she had shown him at the pool. Why did he even care? It wasn't as though they had always been close. Yet he felt a powerful urge to please her that had never surfaced like this before. Was it that leather stuff in her closet that brought it out? Was it the older woman/younger man pics in her porn stash? The CNFM? Whatever it was, it was undeniable – and weird. He'd never heard other guys mention anything like this.
The shower felt good. It almost washed away the doubts and concerns. Almost. The effects of the alcohol were fading a little and he started to feel a little more in control of himself and the situation. What's the worst she could do? She'd tell him she was ashamed of him for buying that suit. She might give him some sort of boring lecture about the psychological implications of being attracted to his mother. For sure she'd never wear that suit again and from now on she'd be careful not to give him too many cleavage peeks.
Even so, tonight had been hot. He'd seen her pussy, half of it anyway. He'd stared at her asshole. He felt his cock begin to respond and decided that later tonight, in his bed, would be the best time to play the mental highlight reel. For now he needed to avoid thinking about all that and deal with the task at hand – accepting mother's annoyance and correction and getting past all this.
"Come back in your shorts," she had said. What did that mean? He wasn't supposed to put on a shirt? Why would she be so specific? "Whatever," he muttered. It wasn't a good time to disobey simple clear instructions. If she asked why he wasn't more dressed, he'd just tell her he was trying to do exactly as instructed.
She smiled slightly as she saw him reenter the room in nothing but shorts. She knew that a person's impulse would be to put on more clothing – protection – to feel less vulnerable in this sort of an embarrassing situation. He had followed instructions instead and she was pleased. She let him stand in front of her in silence until he could no longer hold her gaze and his eyes fell to the floor. Only then, after thoroughly establishing who had the upper hand, did she speak.
"Go pour two more drinks and bring them here," she said in a low commanding tone. She knew that with each time she gave a simple command and received his obedience, he was being conditioned to accept her authority. She'd told him to stay in the pool, come inside, shower, wear shorts, get drinks, and each time had gotten the proper response. What she understood that he did not was that each command is a building block that helps to create a new paradigm. She was laying a foundation that would lead to his acceptance of more difficult tasks and greater authority.
"Put them here for now," as she pointed to the end table. "Good. You may sit – on the floor," she said, motioning to a spot just in front of her. This was going to be fun! His willingness was making her pussy wet. Strong but compliant. She loved it!
"So. As I understand it, after we got a little tipsy last night and I told you how nice you looked, you decided I must be flirting with you. You spent the evening thinking about it and hatched a plan to come over here tonight. You came up with a cover story about construction noise and spent the afternoon snooping around my room, polishing my shoes and leather, and checking the sizes of my lingerie so you could get me a skimpy bathing suit. Then, when I got home you mixed some drinks and kept them coming in the hope of getting me drunk enough that I'd let you fuck me. Does that pretty much cover it?"
He could feel the heat and pressure in his face and knew he must be as red as the polish on her perfect nails. Every word of what she said was correct and hearing it like that, laid out plain and in the open, resonating in his ears, it sounded awful, almost like a crime.
What could he say to the charges? Only one thing. "Yes Ma'am. I'm sorry," he said in a low voice.
"You're sorry. Now. You wouldn't have been sorry if you had ended up fucking me, would you?"
He really hoped that was a rhetorical question because there didn't seem to be any good answer.
"Well, would you have been sorry if you'd been able to put your cock in your mother? Answer?"
"No Ma'am. I'm sure I'd have been happy about it, at least initially. Maybe later I would have felt guilty."
"Guilty of what?"
"Guilty of tricking you. Guilty of snooping. Guilty of incest, I guess," he offered.
"That's a little too much guilt. First, you didn't trick anyone. As soon as I got your phone call today I knew something was going on. You don't call me very often, Jim. I put that together with the atmosphere here last night and I had a pretty good idea what you were up to."
"I was surprised when I saw the polished leather, but that is a service and nothing to feel terribly guilty about. Checking my sizes so you can purchase a gift for me also falls in the realm of acceptable snooping. Digging through my bedside tables to look at my sex toys and porn does not."
She was guessing on the last point, but saw clearly from his face that she was on the money. That meant he was aware of the older/younger porn and the CFNM as well. Good.
She continued, "Obviously you want to fuck your mother. I could give you a lecture about what that means in psychological terms. I could scold and curse and ban you from my home for a while. Or I could accept your attentions as a flattering form of affection and allow you to express them freely."
His head popped up at the last. Was she going to...
"Of course that does not mean you will actually be allowed to fuck me. It only means you won't have to hide the attraction and I won't have to deny myself the pleasure of enjoying it. What is your opinion?"
"If I get to choose, I prefer the last option mom," he said, trying to sound thoughtful and serious and trying desperately not to smile. He was about to make it through this nightmare!
"Good. I prefer that as well, provided that we lay down some rules that will not be broken."
He nodded his agreement. He knew she could say anything she wanted and he would go along with it without a moment's hesitation.
She began, "First, I will be giving the orders. You will be obeying. Period. I will hear your concerns, your opinions, and your wishes as long as they are offered in a respectful manner, but the decisions are mine. You will defer to my authority in all things that interest me. In other areas of your life where I am not interested, such as what kind of car you drive or what you have for breakfast, do as you please, but where I decide to become involved or interested, you will obey. Do you agree to this? If not, we can go no further."
"I agree." He felt like he was joining the Army or something. Why would she want all that power? Still, she was his mother and had never done or suggested anything to his detriment. He knew he could trust her motives and judgment. And maybe relying on her for direction would relieve pressure in some areas so he could focus better in others. It might not be so bad really. For the first time since coming inside, he allowed himself to really look at her. She was wearing the black silk robe and although he technically couldn't see anything he shouldn't, he could see a lot and he liked the view.
She felt his appraisal and smiled. "Take off the shorts, Jim. From now on, when you're here, you'll be naked unless there's a good reason not to be."
"Good. Much better," she said as she admired his hard cock. He was about the same length as his father but thicker. Lovely, she thought.
Oddly enough, Jim didn't feel embarrassed like this. He'd seen the pictures in her room and knew she liked this sort of thing, and he'd seen her toy collection and knew he measured up. It might be odd to be a grown man, naked in front of his mother, but it didn't feel uncomfortable. He sensed that she was becoming something more than mother, but he wasn't quite sure what it was yet.
The uncertainty didn't last long. "From this point, you will address me primarily as 'Ma'am.' It shows a level of respect that 'mom' doesn't convey. That isn't to say there won't be tender moments when mom is appropriate. I will trust you to figure out when those happen and if you are wrong, I will correct you."
