When I was sixteen, the world changed; my father died suddenly from a ruptured aneurysm and my mother and I were pretty much alone in the world. I remembered that time clearly, but mum seemed disoriented and unable to cope, even though I tried to support her as best I could.
Now mum screwed up her courage and started to tell me the whole story, looking at me with an uncomfortable expression. "Brett, honey, I don't know how you will take this; please don't think too badly of me. Even as a young child, I understood I had to obey. After I reached puberty, it dawned on me; I needed someone to control me, to make personal decisions for me, and to dictate my life. I found I needed certainty, and knowing there was someone I could lean on gave me the only confidence I had. Being a lonely child without any real friends caused me to rely more heavily on the adults in my family.
As a result, the men in my life had me submit to them, humiliate me and punish me and in this perverse way, I could gain pleasure. When my father spanked me, I told myself that as the man, the "superior being", I must please him. And regardless of the guilt, I enjoyed the spankings. He never abused me sexually, but sometimes I almost wished he would so I could get satisfaction from someone else."
She continued with her narrative. "At first, when I started to pleasure myself, I really enjoyed all the wonderful sensations, and then my father discovered my secret and showed me all about his view of domination. He spanked me, called me demeaning names and humiliated me by making me stand in the corner of the room wearing a dunce's cap with "Slut" printed on it. But, in my odd way, I assumed this must also please him, so I let it continue, not that I had much option."
"Then I met your father, and he took the idea of domination much further. He spanked me and whipped me as my father had, but he also humiliated me in public and made me do things I'd never dreamed possible. He tied me up and dripped hot wax on my nipples, bound my tits and flogged them until I screamed, pissed on me, bound me to an A frame and filled my pussy and my arse with various objects. And each time it happened, I reached an orgasm that shook my whole body. I loved it. I loved all the nasty stuff and I wanted more; it became like a drug to me and I couldn't get enough. I'm sure this had become a substitute for a real loving, caring relationship I never had with your father or with Reg. I found my pleasure in perversity."
"But then things changed. As your father started to lose interest in me, I became needier and it must have shown. Eventually, he became brutal, beating me with anything that came to hand, and it was no longer exciting but scary. And then he died."
"I became lost. I didn't know what to do. I was still driven. I had depraved, degenerate needs and no way to have them met. I had one or two short relationships, but they were never able to satisfy my needs."
"I remember that time, mum," I commented. "You seemed so lost, and I didn't know what to do, except encourage you to talk to me and be there to support you however I could."
"You know, Brett, you saved my life. If it hadn't been for you, I would probably have killed myself. Or worse, just sold my body on the streets. Then I met Reg Rainbird, and I thought all my luck had changed. To begin with he seemed so considerate, so supportive I agreed to marry him. He performed really well in bed too at first, and gave me what I needed."
"After a short time, a honeymoon, I suppose you might call it, he changed and turned into the monster you saw the other day. He had a gambling problem and drank too much. I begged him not to throw you out when you turned eighteen, but he told me he didn't give a damn about you. It soon became obvious he didn't give a damn about me either. He brutalised me with straps, floggers, paddles and canes. He made me go down on him at least twice a day and I sometimes had to clean his arse with my tongue. It was so bad I often vomited, and got a beating because of it."
"Later, he could never seem to maintain an erection, so he stopped having sex with me, but when money became very tight, he whored me out to anyone who would pay a few dollars. It became a living nightmare; sometimes I'd have to service two or three men a night. That started just before I last saw you, and the last year has been hell."
"Then he told me he was going to sell me, and made up lurid stories about how my life would be. I don't know when he thought about selling me to you, but when he brought me into that room and I saw you, I wanted to die. I couldn't bring myself to have my son, the one person I really loved, see me like that. But now I'm so grateful you're willing to listen without judging me."
"Thank you, mum—I know how hard this has been for you. One thing I do know is what happened to you was not your fault and I don't hold any of it against you. We need to draw the line and start again, and I'll do anything I can to help you."
An odd expression crossed her face, one of gratitude, blended with a sort of excitement I couldn't then identify. But she thanked me warmly, rewarding me with a chaste kiss on the cheek, and we left it at that.
We settled into a domestic routine, although much of my time was spent setting up my business; I had contracted to a big developer to produce computer games and had already gained something of a reputation. Mum started to reinvent herself; she had a major makeover, bought herself new clothes and enrolled in the local gym. We established an easygoing relationship, but somehow mum seemed uneasy, edgy and lacking in confidence. I put this down to her experiences with Reg and although I offered her what support I could, it didn't seem to make much difference.
That theory was blown out of the water a little later, and our lives changed completely. I had been out to visit a colleague, but I returned home earlier than expected. When I walked into the lounge, I was greeted by the sight of my mother, her jeans and plain white cotton panties discarded across the floor with her legs spread wide, her knees bent and her saturated pussy obscenely displayed.
She was being ridden by a small, rather weedy looking guy who couldn't've been much more than eighteen. He thrust into her and rode her hard, impaling her with short sharp strokes as she moaned and thrashed under him, both coming closer to climax. He slapped her tits hard, causing my mother to scream, but her scream had a wanton quality of excitement and arousal as if she relished her treatment by this stranger. "Take it all, bitch; take my cock up your needy cunt. Cum for me, you whore when I drown you with my jizz."
My mother screamed, "Fuck me, fuck me hard. Oh god, I need this so much. Treat me like the slut I am. Fuck me like a whore. Oh god, just make me CUM."
I had seen more than enough, and interrupted their fuckfest, shouting, "What the hell is going on here?"
My mother screamed, pulling away from her conqueror's pulsating prick and rolling into the foetal position on the floor. The guy jumped to his feet, backing away from me. "She wanted it, mister. She propositioned me at the shopping centre. She told me she was looking for someone to give her a good fucking and offered to pay me to do it. She ..."
"Get the fuck out of here you pathetic excuse for a human being. If I ever see you anywhere near here again, I'll give you a thrashing you'll never forget. Now, piss off."
With that gentle instruction, he ran out of the door as fast as his legs would carry him, leaving me to deal with my mother.
I said nothing, looking down at my mother's near nakedness, still curled up on the floor with tears streaming down her face. She got up slowly and grabbed a gown, struggling into it, her head down, refusing to look at me.
"You have two options, mother. Either tell me exactly what happened or pack your bags and leave now."
At last she looked at me, with the same air of desolation and hopelessness I had seen when I last saw her with Reg. "Please don't reject me, Brett. Please don't make me go," she sobbed.
This was way outside my experience, and I had no clear idea of how to deal with it. "Okay, mother, you've chosen the 'tell all' option, so you'd better sit down and give me all the details around that little cameo. Everything, please; don't leave out any details; I will know if you're lying." A bold claim and one which I doubted whether I could justify.
She sobbed and drew a deep breath.
"I don't really know where to begin, Brett, but I'll try. I've already told you how much I loved all the nasty stuff and it had become an obsession with me. I needed it like an alcoholic needs his next drink. Reg's vicious brand of punishment didn't cure me of that need but I just became trapped in myself, trying to avoid his beatings and keeping myself as safe as I could. But the need still smouldered."
