From a very early age I can remember my mother being a hard woman to please. She’d been put in the club at the age of 18 and had no idea which prick had done the trick. In short, as a teenager, my mother was a slag.
But not only as a teenager. I remember her bringing guys home on a regular basis and, as I grew older, I would sneak from my bedroom to watch her perform with them. She loved to give head and I was fascinated to see her, sitting on the floor with a guy’s prick in her mouth and even more fascinated when he shot his load. They would laugh and she would clean him up with her tongue and off he went. Next night, new man. Same outcome.
Often though, one would want to do more and I studied carefully as she raised her skirt and straddled him. I would sit there, desperately wishing that it was my cock that was going into her.
But Mum was a strict disciplinarian. It started when I was a teenager. She caught me looking at some pictures of her that I’d found. They were filthy and I was enjoying it.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she asked, snatching the pictures from me. I was confused and didn’t know what to say, just trying to fumble my prick back into my trousers.
“Leave it, you little pervert!” she commanded. I left it but it had lost its hardness and just peeped out of the zipper.
“I’m sorry,” I stammered.
“I’m not interested,” she replied. “Little perverts who look at filthy pictures need to be taught a lesson.”
She grabbed my arm and dragged me to a straight backed chair and told me to bend over it. I did so and she slapped my hands and told me to grip the seat and not let go. The back of the chair was in my stomach. I felt her behind me and her hands came round and unfastened my belt and trouser waistband. As they fell to the floor, she pulled the belt free. I stood very still knowing what she had in mind. Her fingers scratched my skin as she roughly pulled my underpants down to my ankles and lifted my shirt. I waited as her hand ran lightly over my buttocks.
“You have to learn that looking on naked women brings pain as well as pleasure,” she said and a stinging slap made me wince as the belt struck me hard on the buttocks. Another followed and a third. But I was slightly shocked. It hurt, of course. But not as much as it gave me a hard-on. She saw what was happening and it seemed to infuriate her so that she laid into me with vehemence. My buttocks were bruised but there was a numbness that had set in and I was feeling very light-headed. I was actually getting off on this.
My prick exploded and come shot through the bars of the chair onto the seat and over onto the floor.
The beating had stopped. I turned my head to see my mother gazing down at it. Her face was flushed and her red hair was all over the place. I had a picture of her naked in my mind. Full breasts with firm nipples over a flat belly and a neat triangle of pubic hair. I could imagine her cunt as I’d seen it in the pictures, puffy lipped and her juice sparkling on puffy lips. She came out of her trance and her green eyes flashed.
“Clean it up!” she ordered.
I straightened up. The pain was beginning to kick-in now but I refused to let her see that. I went towards the kitchen.
“Where are you off to?” she asked. Her voice had lost the harsh anger and was now a little more menacing.
“To get a cloth,” I said. She laughed.
“You’ve got a tongue, haven’t you?” she said. “Use that.”
Slowly I knelt and began to lick my spunk off the chair. I’d seen her men lick her out after fucking her and had experimented with my own spunk so I had no problem with it. When I got to the floor, she placed a foot on my face and pressed it into the wetness. I twisted my eyes upward and thrilled at the sight of her long legs. I knew that between them was that neat cunt I’d seen in the pictures and glimpsed when she was being fucked.
After that, she found I did a lot of things she didn’t like and needed punishing for. My mind was being honed into creative thinking by finding new things to do that she wouldn’t like.
I was twenty when I thought things were beginning to go downhill. I wasn’t getting the same pleasure from having my arse thrashed and she didn’t seem to be going at it with the enthusiasm she used to show and I like.
I came home from work and she looked at me in the usual way but there was no sparkle in her eyes. She had the strap in hand and demanded I strip. I did and bent over in my usual pose. She took up her position and as the strap came down, I twisted, caught her wrist and f***ed her back against the wall. I’d been planning this and everything was in place. She was surprised and I saw that old sparkle in her green eyes. I took the strap from her and twisted her round. Out of my pocket I pulled a set of handcuffs and snapped them on her wrist. Pulling both hands above her head I snapped the other into place and half lifted her so that the hands were over a hook on the coat rack.
“What the fuck are you doing?” she snarled.
“I’m doing you!” I said. I am a big lad and it didn’t take much strength to rip the flimsy blouse she was wearing from her. The straps on her bra needed a pair of scissors but it came away leaving her firm 38D’s pressing against the wall. Thirty-eight, same as her age. The skirt came down around her ankles and she was naked apart from her four inch high stilettos. She hadn’t worn underwear for years.
“Now, you fucking whore,” I said grabbing a handful of her red hair and turning her face to me. “You’re going to get what you’ve been dishing out to me for all these years.”
“Go on then, if your man enough,” she said. The spark had returned. “There’s nothing you can do that’ll hurt me you fucking prick!”
I had ankle straps and fitted them so she couldn’t move then lifted her down and carried her into the dining room. I bent her over the chair she’d bent me over so often. She was on tiptoe though. Another set of handcuffs and her wrists were fixed to the chair legs and behind, her ankles were fixed to the chair legs. I stood back and looked at her tight round arse. She was in good shape. Where her legs were apart I could see the puffy lips of her cunt. She’d taken to shaving it but leaving the triangle in front like a street direction showing which way to go. All she needed was a tattoo on her belly saying ‘You are here’.
“Go on then, big man,” she taunted. “Use the strap on me.”
“Oh no, mother, dear.” I said. “You’re going to feel my hand.”
I took a swing. I had intended to start a little gently but in the excitement I let it go and it stung me. She let out a squeal. On her right buttock, a white hand mark appeared and, as I watched, began to turn red. That was it. I went berserk. I slapped and slapped, now higher on her buttocks, now lower. Her beautifully shaped buttocks began to glow red and start turning purple. I felt my hand slap across her cunt lips and she winced but that was all.
Finally I stopped. I was sweating and so was she. I grabbed a handful of hair and lifted her head.
“I need to piss,” she mumbled. “I badly need to…”
But she was too late. A stream erupted from between her legs and she sighed. I was fascinated. I placed my hand over her cunt and felt a thrill as the water splashed over us.
Now I knew my next move. I took up a position behind her, unfastened my trousers and guided my rigid cock to her hole. She moaned as I pressed it into her. I really needed this fuck and I could tell by her hole that she was in dire need of it too.
I slammed my body against her sore bum ramming myself as deep as I could into her. Once or twice she cried out but finally the cries became whimpers then grunts and finally she was coming. I kept pounding as she screamed through her orgasm and that was all I needed. I filled her cunt with my spunk. I left it deep in there and felt her twitching on it.
When she finally stopped, I unfastened her and carried her up to her bed. She was limp in my arms. I lay her down and once again fastened her in a star-like position on the bed.
For two days I kept her tied there not allowing her to move, feeding her and making sure she had lots to drink. I now loved watching her piss and I especially loved it when she said she needed to and I could just mount her and start shagging her. It’s wonderful how desperate women get. For some reason they can’t do it while a cock’s in them and when the cock comes out, it’s like a fountain.
Finally I let her go and pulled her, naked, downstairs where I had made a special dinner. I took a little delight in pushing her hard down onto the chair on her bruised arse. We had wine and I talked. I asked her about my father.
“I honestly don’t know,” she said. “Could have been one of twenty or so guys.”
“But surely you know roughly when I was conceived?”
“Oh, I know exactly the date you were conceived,” she said.
“Well then? Who were you going out with then?”
“It’s not that simple. You see, son, that night I was the only girl at the stag night.”
From then on, we would take it in turns to punish or be punished. The spark had returned.
About two weeks ago, I arrived home and she was standing, naked in the hallway. The triangle of red pubic hair had gone and she looked good. She led me into the dining room.
“My son,” she said. “My only c***d.”
“Yes,” I said, not knowing what was following.
“I won’t be able to say that much longer,” she said. I looked blankly at her and she continued. “I don’t know whether you’re going to have a b*****r or s****r or son or daughter.”
“Yes I am. Have I been a naughty girl?” she said standing up and going to bend over the chair.
“Yes and I suppose I’ve been a naughty boy.”
“Just what have I always taught you? “ she asked. “Ladies first.”