Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

Author’s Note

“We understand this transition may be difficult,” The rep turned to me and Mom, as we sat on the opposite side of our dining room table. “But we can assure you... This will be better for you both.” He placed the contract down, and slid it before us, a single sheet that would give me full ownership of my mother.

Mom looked down, and smiled, her stare an intense green, her cheeks soft and filled with joy, spreading in a red glow of her defined cheekbones, a small dimple formed by her soft, pink lips. “I’m ready when you are...” Her excitement was clear in the bounce of her thigh pressing against me, her movements jumpy, ready to get this done.

“Think about it like this,” The rep continued, as my mother’s chest caught his glare, her jumpy form only emphasizing her supple bust. “If you don’t own her, then it will be on somebody else to.” The words left him as a threat, a deep knowing tune targeted directly at my mother.

She raised her hands to her lips, and gasped. “That can happen?” She spoke the same way she looked, a soft innocence among an erotic form, unaware of how she looked, the movement of her hand shaking her bust beneath the deep cleavage of her white blouse. “I thought Mothers could stay with their sons?”

The rep shook his head. “Only when performing their motherly duties...” The man smirked at me. “Your son is nineteen. He has the freedom to be the master of his own home, should he wish.”

A part of me wanted to reach over, and punch him across the table. This was my mother, the woman who raised me, the woman I loved most, now asked to serve as my property.

“Ownership is a very serious thing.” He tapped his finger against the paper. “We prefer every woman can find someone they trust.”

Mom scooted her seat forward. “Well...” Her cleavage deepened even more, showcasing the soft milky tone of her globes, just enough to catch the reps eye, before he turned back to me.

“You’re a very lucky man, Mr. Richards. It’s rare to find a mother as eager as yours.”

No shit...

I took a deep breath, and gestured for a pen. The man pulled one from his blazer, the smile on his face digging a hole into my soul, forcing me to question the morals I held. “Where do I sign?”

He patted down on the three dotted lines; one after the first few sentences, another in the middle of the page, then the third by my mother’s name, right next to a description of her as property. I took an even deeper breath and felt my heart sink. I knew I should have done more. I knew I should have fought when I had the chance, never allowing things to get to where they were.

“Honey,” Mom grasped my hand in hers, as I hovered over the final line. “Look at me.” Her voice called me with the softness of a mother, a sweetness in her tone, only highlighted by the dotted freckles across her button nose. “It’s okay... I want this.”

I signed the final line, as the heat of Mom’s palm guided me. She smiled, kissed my cheek, and just like that it was over.

I now was the owner of my own mother...

“Congratulations Mr. Richards. It is a great day to be a man.”

Mom stroked my cheek, as I stared on at the paper. “It sure is.”

They left us with a collar, and a series of booklets to read. The news had been filled with unowned women being taken in public, divorcées, and single mothers, as anyone who wasn’t taking care of someone else was free game. The collar was to keep Mom safe, a way signal that she was owned, forbidding anyone from touching another man’s property.

“Is it too tight?” I pressed the soft leather across my mother neck, the smell of her perfume a slow whisk against my night, light, cherry, intoxicating. The fit seemed perfect against her slender neck. It gave her just enough space to breathe, her almond locs held up, as she smiled at her new owner.

“Mhhmnn.” She hummed her approval, as I fixed the latch in place. “Thank you, sweetie.” Her breathes deepened with each word, floating her voice in a sensual tune.

I stepped back and examined my new possession. She looked like an angel sent to taunt me, beautiful, heavenly, her white blouse draping against the strong swell of her hips, her body too erotic to hide, filling me with a nervous dredd that the collar might not be enough to protect her.