Chapter 1: The Doctor

“What is it you want to get out of these sessions, Evan?” Dr. Hugo Black removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Carefully replacing the spectacles, he looked over at his young patient.

“I don’t know, Doc. I’ve been coming here for the past two years, and, well, I just feel there is something unfinished, missing ... something that just isn’t right.” Evan Hill didn’t quite squirm in his chair, but his folded hands seemed to want to move with a mind of their own. He wasn’t nervous, or at least he didn’t feel nervous; he had been coming to Dr. Black since his father died two years earlier. Dr. Black was a grief counselor as well as a psychologist, and their weekly sessions had been a source of comfort during the troubled times following the death. But that was in the past. For a seventeen-year-old boy, two years constituted an immense amount of time, not quite a lifetime but close. His grieving was done, over; the tears came and went. Life was supposed to go on now, get better, but for some reason, it hadn’t, and he wanted the magic pill that would fix it.

“Well, let’s talk about this, try to discover what it is you seem to be missing.” Dr. Black steepled his fingers in front of his face and sighed to himself. He had a pretty good idea what was troubling the boy but was conflicted on how to clinically and ethically proceed.

“First, I think we can both agree that grief over your father’s death isn’t what’s bothering you. You were over that fairly quickly that first year.”

“Wait, I loved my--” Evan protested. The Doctor quickly cut him off by raising his hands.

“Of course, you did, Evan. I never meant to infer you didn’t. But let’s be honest: You weren’t that close to your father, and the grief you felt was appropriate and healthy for a person your age. We’ve talked about this. Of course, it hurt, and still might a bit, but that isn’t what’s bothering you now, is it?”

“No,” Evan sighed. Carefully stretching his arms out in front of him, he slowly placed them on his knees, thinking carefully about what he wanted to say. What the doctor had said was true; he had never been extremely close to his father. Grant Hill had been a very successful salesman. He earned a good living and provided well for his family, but it required a considerable amount of time on the road. It wasn’t unusual for him to be gone Monday through Friday, back for two days, and out again the next Monday. Given the time he spent at home, he was more of a stranger to his son than a real father, and his personality didn’t help either. Some would have called him a bit of a cold fish. He was aloof, reserved, and even somewhat autocratic. His father, yes; never his friend. When he died, there was shock and loss, but it wasn’t as if a huge part of his life had been ripped out. His mother had suggested they both go to the grief counselor, and it had helped, but it wasn’t the loss of his father that bothered him now.

“No,” he said again, “I don’t know what the problem is, but it’s not Dad’s death. I know something’s wrong, but I just can’t figure it out, and I keep lashing out at people even when I know it’s wrong.”

“Lashing out? Who do you ‘lash out’ at, and how do you do it?” The doctor fell easily into the role of detective; this is what he loved about his job.

Of course, there was the helping people, the money, the prestige. Yes, there was all that, but what he really loved was the chase, the hunt for the elusive reason. Once the reason was found, then it was usually fairly simple to cure the problem, or at least treat the symptoms, but finding the cause: Ah, that was the real mystery. He often thought he could have, or maybe should have been a real detective instead of a psychologist, but then cops didn’t make didilie-squat, and anyway, he never got shot at, so this was actually much better.

“Lash out? Well, I guess I mean just that. I get angry, you know, mad. I yell sometimes and, I don’t know, blow up at them. Who? My mom mostly, I guess, sometimes the kids at school, but mostly my mom.”

“Okay.” The doctor sat back, relaxing the conversation a little, letting the boy continue with just a little prompting, “Does your action come as a response to any particular stimuli, or is it random? What I mean is there one particular thing that seems to set you off, or does it just seem to happen at odd times?”

“I don’t know. Random, I guess. I can’t think of any one thing I was doing when I get mad.”

“Well, then let’s look at a couple of the situations. When did this happen last? Try to think of everything that happened before the incident and then for a little while after.”

“Okay. Actually, the last time it happened was just last week.” He looked a bit sheepish, his cheeks coloring slightly as he thought about what happened.

---

Evan took the stairs two at a time as he rushed to get ready. He was already late for his soccer game and needed his uniform jersey. Now, where is that damn thing? He knew he put it in the laundry after the last game; he remembered exactly where it had been. That had been days ago; where could it be now?

“Mom! Have you seen my uniform shirt? I put it in the laundry last week and can’t find it. Mom? Where are you?”

He ran into the family room and, to no surprise, found his mother sitting in front of the TV watching some insipid game show. Cheri Hill’s mouth was slack, eyes staring at the screen; it was obvious she hadn’t heard him.

“Mom? Hello there. Earth to Mom.” He waved his hand in front of her face. She blinked and twisted her head to look up at him. A little smile played at the corner of her mouth.

“Oh, hi Evan. Did you say something? I guess I didn’t hear you.”

“I asked if you had seen my uniform jersey. I put it in the laundry last week, and I can’t find it. Do you know where it is?” he asked patiently.

“Uniform? Laundry? I don’t know, I just don’t know.” She struggled to get out of the chair. She wore the faded blue housecoat that she normally wore, ratty and dirty, with slippers that should have been thrown away years ago and probably whatever nightgown she had on from the night before.

Evan started to get a little pissed. It was one in the afternoon, sure it was true his mom didn’t work, she didn’t need to, the life insurance money and investments were enough to take care of her for a good long while, but damn it, people didn’t just lay around all day; that just wasn’t right. She shuffled out of the family room heading toward the laundry. Evan followed her.

The laundry room was a mess. Dirty clothes lay in baskets all over the floor, there didn’t seem to be anything clean in sight. Cheri started to root around in some of the baskets, finally pulling a crumpled yellow ball of material from the bottom of one.

“Here it is, hon. I guess I didn’t get to it yet, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Mom! It’s game day! I needed this for my game!” He threw it into a sink and turned the water on. “I can’t believe you didn’t do it! What the hell have you been doing besides staring at the goddamn TV? Do we have any clean clothes? Damn it, do I have to do everything around here? Christ, how about you clean yourself up for once and get some of this laundry done!”

He sprinkled a little detergent on the wet shirt and began to hand-wash it under the faucet. He didn’t even bother to see what effect his words had on his mother. Wringing the water out of the shirt, he pushed past her and ran out of the house, thinking he could hold the shirt out the car window and maybe it would be sort of dry by the time he got to the field.

Later, as he was coming home, he regretted his harsh words and language. While he had been hurt by his father’s death, his mother had been devastated. It was like something had been ripped out of the fabric of her being. She walked around in a daze, barely conscious of what was taking place around her. She had always been the model housewife. Her house was always so clean it sparkled, meals were fabulous and on schedule, laundry always done. Mending, shopping, everything that defined a happy home was taken care of. Now it was just the opposite. Nothing was ever on time; meals could be anything from frozen TV trays to hamburger carryout. Laundry, well, laundry got done mostly when Evan did it and not before. She sat a lot and watched TV and very little else.

The strange thing was you would never have guessed this would have been her reaction. As cool and reserved as his father had been to Evan, he was as much or more so towards his wife. The times he was home, he barely acknowledged her presence unless it was to complain or berate her for some slight or even imaginary fault. And although he could never prove it, he would have sworn he had heard the smack of something hitting flesh and stifled cries coming from his parents’ room when his dad was home. As he grew older, he would have sworn she was an abused wife, but she never showed a bruise, limped, or complained. In fact, she seemed to be happiest when dad was home in spite of the treatment she received. Evan didn’t understand it but figured if she was happy, then everything must be all right.

After her husband’s death, Cheri was never quite the same. She almost never smiled, housework was chronically left undone, and she couldn’t focus. It was like she didn’t know what she was supposed to do anymore. Evan didn’t know what he could do to help her. He tried to be gentle and understanding. He knew she was ill; that had to be it. Somehow, her husband’s death had unhinged her reason, and he just had to be patient until she healed. But damn, it was hard! Not only did he have his schoolwork to do and sports, but now he was supposed to do all the housework too; it wasn’t fair! It wasn’t right! He was the kid, not her! Sometimes that anger boiled out of him before he could stop it and would result in another scene like the one in the laundry room.

He knew she would have been crying all day, and he would need to apologize. He knew she didn’t deserve this; she was sick; it wasn’t her fault. He sighed as he parked in the driveway. Entering the house, he dropped his gear bag by the front door and decided he better say he was sorry now rather than wait for later. He walked into the family room, expecting to find her in front of the TV again, but the room was empty.

“Mom, I’m home! Are you here?” he yelled. He heard a faint reply.

“Yes, dear, I’m back here in the laundry room.”

Walking into the laundry room, he was amazed at what had taken place in the few short hours since he’d left. The washing machine was running, as was the dryer. Clean clothes were folded, sorted, and stacked in neat piles waiting to be put away. His mother was bent over the ironing board, putting the final touches on one of his school shirts. She had indeed cleaned herself up. She was wearing a clean pair of jeans and one of his father’s old dress shirts. Her hair was pinned up on her head, but it was obvious that it had been washed and rolled. It looked like she had even put on a little makeup, which she very rarely did anymore.

Evan was struck silent for a minute as he looked at his mother. He had always thought of her as a pretty woman, but here in the most unflattering of places, she looked truly beautiful for the first time in months, maybe years.

Cheri Hill had always been a remarkably looking woman. Of medium height, she had dark brown hair that fell halfway down her back. Her figure would have been called the classic hourglass, a shapely if not overlarge bosom tapering down to a narrow waist flaring out to rounded but well-proportioned hips and butt. Her face was heart-shaped and slightly rounded with large, dark eyes and wide, sensual lips. What he saw was in every sense a beautiful, and he had to admit, sexy woman. But he also knew what he couldn’t see was the best of all. Cheri Hill had a set of the most drop-dead gorgeous legs ever created by God. She could easily have been a hosiery model or a Vegas showgirl. Those legs started from perfectly proportioned buttocks, the hips slightly flaring then tapering down a smooth thigh to calves that could only be described as perfection. He hadn’t seen her dressed up lately and had only briefly seen her legs when they had been swimming earlier that year, but he remembered, and his imagination filled in the rest.

Shaking his head slightly - after all, this was his mom, not some bimbo from school - he shouldn’t be thinking about her this way no matter how good-looking she was. But she should be told, he thought. She made the effort, and he should reward her.

“Wow, you really look great, Mom! And look at this! You have been busy! Can I help with anything?”

She looked up from the shirt she was ironing and smiled at him, blushing just a little.

“No, baby, I’m almost done here. You can carry those full baskets upstairs for me when you get a chance, though.”

“Sure, no problem, I’ll get it done right away.” He looked down, not wanting to meet her eyes, “Ah, Mom, I want to say I’m sorry about yelling at you earlier. I shouldn’t have, and, well, I’m just really sorry.”

“Oh Evan, you don’t have to say you’re sorry.” Cheri put her iron down and walked over to him. “I’m the one who should be apologizing, not you.” She grabbed his hands in hers, and tears started to roll down her cheeks. “I haven’t been much of a mother lately, have I? I’ll try to do better, I promise.” He let go of her hands and hugged her, drawing her head into his shoulder.

“Mom, we’ll get through this. Don’t you worry; I’m right here.”

“So you yelled at her for not doing the laundry,” said Dr. Black.

Evan just looked at the floor and nodded his head, yes.

“Did you hit her, or even threaten her?”

Evan’s head popped up right away. “Of course not!” he said. “I’d never touch her. Oh my God, do you think she thought that?” His face went pale with the thought that his mother had been afraid of him.

“Did she act afraid? Did she avoid you?”

“No,” he replied slowly. “In fact, she seemed happy. She actually smiled for the first time in a long time.”

“And she did the laundry and cleaned herself up?”

“Yes.”

“When you lashed out before this, was it for something she did or something she didn’t do?”

“Ah, something she didn’t do, I guess. Laundry had been a real problem, but we, I guess maybe I should say ‘I’ have had words about meals and some other things also. Look, I’m not proud of what I did, and maybe we can work this out. I don’t want to blame my mom for something that’s not her fault.”

“Hmm, yes, well, maybe it is her fault, just a little.” Dr. Black sat back again, looking at the young man in front of him. “You know as well as I do that your mother has also been my patient for the past two years.” Evan nodded his head again, not saying anything. “As my patient, I can’t discuss her condition with anyone, even you, but maybe we can work on something that may help her, and you also. I’m not condoning the yelling or verbal abuse, but it might be appropriate to ‘suggest,’ even ‘strongly suggest’ that she do some of what needs to be done. Don’t beg or plead with her, just tell her what you want done and see what happens. Do you think you can do that?”

Evan again shook his head, “I think so.”

“Good. Well, it looks like your time is up for this week. I think we have done very well. Let’s build on this next week.”

As his young patient left, Dr. Black started writing in two separate files, one labeled “Hill, Evan A.” and the other “Hill, Cheri D.” He was beginning to understand what the true underlying problem was here. If it was what he thought, there may indeed be no “cure,” but sometimes a symptom could be effectively treated such that the patient could lead a happy life. Wasn’t that the real goal after all?

Chapter 2: Cause and Effect

Evan mulled over what Dr. Black had talked about during their last session. Is that what Mom needed, a little direction in her life? Is that what she lost when Dad died? Maybe the best thing to do would be to try some experiments. He could even write down what happened, what he said, and the circumstances surrounding it. At least that would give him something concrete to talk to Dr. Black about. What did he have to lose?

He decided to start the next day. It was a Saturday; he had no practices or games, no real homework either. What better time to begin? First, he went through the house, taking a mental inventory of what needed to be done. What to start with? Well, maybe he should keep going with what had worked the other day: laundry and personal appearance. He checked the laundry room. It was obvious that nothing had been done since the previous week; Mom’s sudden burst of effort hadn’t lasted long.

He found her in the family room as expected, watching some silly game show. What was it with these game shows? Did they have their own network or what? As usual, she was dressed in her old, faded housecoat, slippers, and nightgown. Her hair was a little mussed - but not as bad as it usually was - no makeup, and, well, she could have had a shower this morning, but then again, maybe not.

“Mom, have you seen my Nike T-shirt?” He knew where it was: in the laundry room, and no, it wasn’t clean.

“I don’t know, baby.” Her eyes never even left the screen. “If it isn’t in your room, it might be in the laundry.”

“I’m pretty sure I put it in the laundry last week, Mom, and when I looked in the laundry room, I didn’t see anything clean. When do you think it might get done?”

“Oh, I’ll get to it right away, honey.” She casually waved her hand in his direction but otherwise could have been made of stone for all the movement she made.

Well, he thought, I made the suggestion now, let’s see what happens.

DAY/TIME: Saturday, 10:30 a.m.

NOTE: Subject was given a mild suggestion to wash laundry that had not been completed for approximately one week. Time limit not imposed or suggested. Initial affirmative verbal reaction noted, no following physical action observed.

Evan figured that if anything was going to happen, it would within a few hours. Now might be a good time to get the weekly shopping done. He had gradually taken over that task but didn’t really mind. This way, he could get what he wanted, and he knew they would have food in the house. Another plus was that since he had been doing the shopping, his mother had allowed him to have his own credit card with the same credit limit as hers - not bad for a seventeen-year-old kid! And as long as he didn’t abuse it, she didn’t seem to mind the little things he charged. At least he assumed she didn’t mind; maybe she didn’t even look at the bill!

Not that it mattered; the credit card was just a tool he used to purchase things they needed. Luckily, they didn’t need much, so he didn’t use it that often. He wasn’t sure what their financial situation was, and until recently, he never even thought to ask. It was stable enough that Mom didn’t seem to worry about money, and she sure didn’t seem to need to work, so Dad must have left enough, or at least had enough insurance to see them through.

Well, whatever, he thought. Grocery shopping had to be done, and it would allow for some time to see if his suggestion had been heeded.

Evan returned just after noon, put the groceries away, and checked the laundry. Not surprisingly, nothing had been done. Evan noted this in his journal. Now what to do? Try the suggestion thing again? Maybe elevate it to a request. Yes, that seemed to be the best way to go; this time, it will be a request. Surely she couldn’t ignore a simple request from her own baby boy, now could she?

He found her in the family room still watching TV. He wondered if she had even moved. It didn’t look like it. Watching her as he had for the last few days, what he saw was really beginning to bother him, and not just because her inactivity adversely impacted him. Well, maybe that was part of the reason, but what harm she did to him was nothing compared to what she was doing to herself! She was barely human! Sitting around all day, dirty, wearing ragged and unwashed clothing... Jesus, what could her bedroom look like!

This wasn’t good, it wasn’t right! She wasn’t some old maid with nothing to live for. My God, she was only thirty-six years old! Looking at her objectively, he could now see the pallor of her skin, the once dynamite legs getting just a bit chunky, more out of condition than fat, but unhealthy just the same. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced he was doing the right thing. At least he was going to try to help!

“Mom?” he asked a little tentatively, “did you do the laundry yet?”

“No, baby. I’ll get to it in a little while. There isn’t any big hurry, is there?”

“Well, yes, there is,” he added just a bit more firmness to his voice. “Would you please do the laundry for me? I’ll need it tomorrow.”

“Sure, honey. I’ll do it here in a little bit.” Again, he didn’t think her eyes left the TV.

“Okay, Mom. Thanks.” Turning, he left the room to make his journal entries.

DAY/TIME: Saturday, 12:30 p.m.

NOTE: Since the subject had no reaction to a mild suggestion, an unambiguous request for the action was made. The subject responded in the affirmative; however, no physical action was noted subsequent to the request.

There didn’t seem to be much reason to keep checking up on her for the rest of the day, he thought. She would either do it or not. But what would he do if she didn’t respond? He needed to think about that. Should he crank it up a notch or should he wait and talk to Dr. Black first? It was something he needed to think about, but not here, not now. What he needed was a little exercise. Playing some hoops with his friends would be just the ticket. Letting his mom know he was leaving, he took off for the rest of the day.

The sun peaking through the blinds woke Evan that Sunday morning. He lay in bed still wondering what he should do next. He had checked last night when he got home and the laundry still hadn’t been done. Now it was becoming a real pain. Not only did he want to help his mother but also he was running out of clean clothes! He supposed he could do it - he had many other times before - but that wasn’t the point. She should be doing this, if not this then something else anyway. It wasn’t fair that he had to take care of a thirty-six-year-old baby! Well, he would try once more today, maybe a little stronger, a little more direct; then we’ll see if that gets any response. Knowing his mother wouldn’t be up for a few hours, he slipped out of bed and went downstairs to make breakfast.

He had a nice spread of bacon, toast, eggs, and coffee ready when Cheri finally came down. She saw what he had made, grinned widely, and gave him a big kiss on the cheek.

“Why, this is wonderful, Ev! What’s the special occasion?”

He just waved his hand and gave her a noncommittal grunt.

“Well, if you can think of something, you just let me know.”

After they finished eating, Evan started moving the dirty dishes from the table to the sink, getting ready to wash them.

“Do you want me to do that, honey?” Cheri asked him. He turned and looked at her, his lips set in a straight, grim line.

“No,” he said, looking her directly in the eyes, “I want you to get into the laundry room and do the laundry like you told me you would do for the past two days.”

“I will, honey, I will.” Her eyes dropped to the floor and then began to scan the room, lighting on anything but his. He slowly closed the distance between them and, reaching with his thumb and forefinger, grasped her chin and lifted it to where he could again look into her eyes.

“I mean now. Right now. Just walk in there and get it done.” He held his breath, his heart beating about twice its normal rate. How would she react? He had never said anything like this to her before! He was ordering her to do something. That’s the only way you could take it: It was an order, plain and simple.

Her eyes dropped again, even while he held her chin up. She made no move to remove his hand or break his contact with her. She bit her lip gently, and her body seemed to tremble slightly. A little, almost-frightened smile briefly crossed her lips, like the quick passing of a cloud’s shadow across the sun on a summer’s day.

“Okay, baby. I’m sorry I didn’t get it done yesterday. I’ll go do it right now.”

With that, he released her chin, and she turned and slowly walked toward the laundry room. Just as she reached the door, she looked back over her shoulder and gave him another of those little half smiles.

“Well, well, well,” he thought to himself, “maybe we are getting somewhere now.” He decided to leave her alone while he did the dishes and see if she actually started the laundry. This was promising, not conclusive but certainly promising. Turning back to the sink, he started to clean up the breakfast dishes.

Suddenly, the fog cleared from Cheri’s mind. After so long, she finally had some purpose, some goal; a reason had been given to her. She marched into the laundry room and immediately began sorting the clothing into appropriate piles.

Cheri wasn’t stupid; in fact, she was quite intelligent. It wasn’t that she lacked determination, motivation, initiative, or inspiration. No, when she had been given a reason, she worked hard and long to get it done. No, that wasn’t the problem; being able to produce the reason , that was the problem. She could never explain it, even to herself, but she seemed totally incapable of initiating her own reason. Certainly, she knew the laundry needed to be done, but until someone else gave her the reason to begin it, it was very difficult for her to get started.

She knew there was something wrong with her, that this wasn’t normal. Other people had no problems coming up with their own reason, so why couldn’t she? Maybe she should talk to Dr. Black about this, really talk about it this time. She had tried; well, really, she tried to talk about it without really talking about it. Little hints here, inferences there, but never the whole truth. Could he help her? Maybe; she just didn’t know. Did she even want help? That was another important question. Her limitations didn’t bother her; she was perfectly happy for someone else to produce her reasons. She rather enjoyed the work once she got started.

She had been quite content when John was alive. He was her opposite in many ways. He lived to give orders, to direct, and to discipline. She shuddered a little remembering some of his discipline sessions. John had been a fine man for the most part, but he also had a bit of a psychological flaw himself. He was impotent unless he was administering pain of some kind. Luckily for her, his sex drive was very low, and his time away from home was great enough that these sessions were fairly infrequent.

Although she had to admit she did like some parts of this scene. She liked when he spanked her, so long as it wasn’t too hard. A nice cherry-red ass made her horny enough to do whatever he told her to, whereas bruises killed all desire. All in all, she liked the bondage part; it was the heavy pain she didn’t. Didn’t he realize that he didn’t need to hit her very hard? All he had to do was show her he was the master, and she would submit.

That is what she lived for, to submit to the one, the reason giver. To that one, she would give her body, mind, and soul. Maybe others would think of her as strange, not a complete human being, but she didn’t care. She was never happier than when John would tell her what she had to do, give her her reasons. He would tell her what to do, take care of the baby, clean the house, do the laundry, fix the meals. Whatever, whenever, however, he would tell, and she would do it.

She missed that. Reasonless, knowing what needed to be done but just not being able to make it become her reason for herself. She was letting down her son. She didn’t keep the house or fix the meals. In fact, she didn’t seem to do much but watch TV lately.

Except ... except the past couple of weeks. Something was there that had been missing for two long years. At least a little was there. Evan, her darling baby, had actually been able to give her a reason. Meekly for the most part, and they didn’t seem to stay reasons for very long, but they were reasons! She wished she could tell him that was what she had been waiting for, let him know that this was what she needed, wanted, had to have.

Maybe she could talk with Dr. Black, and maybe he could tell Evan what she needed. Oh, she missed that direction, her reasons. What she wouldn’t give to have that back! There wouldn’t be anything she wouldn’t give, anything! Maybe he could take his father’s place; maybe he would like being the master. She flushed, wondering what it would be like being tied up and under his control. He wouldn’t beat her hard, she knew that; he loved her. He would only give her what she needed, what she deserved, never enough to scar or bleed, never the excruciating pain, just a little pain, the kind that made her wet down there, made her heart pound, her breath catch. But would he? She was pretty sure he would, but how to do it, how to bring it about? She rushed into the laundry room, plotting her strategies, not realizing she had for the first time in a long time given herself a reason.

Evan was very pleased. Not only did it seem to work - his mother was actually doing the laundry - but she seemed happy. She smiled and joked with him when he walked by; she even turned down his offer of help. It was amazing, but once she decided to get something done, she was hell on wheels, a truly unstoppable force. Now, if he could just identify how to get her started every time and how to keep it going. But this was a very good start, a very good start indeed.

Chapter 3: First, you identify the problem...

“Cheri, do you mind if I make an observation?” Dr. Black sat back in his chair and looked at the young woman sitting in front of him. He sensed something different today, a breakthrough? Maybe not, but there was something she was trying to tell him, but not “tell” him. That part of him that became the detective felt something, and like blood in the water draws the shark, this something drew him.

“Of course, Hugo, go right ahead.” Cheri sat primly in her chair, hands folded in her lap. She had worn a dress today, a full-length peasant dress, nothing reveling but that, and the fact that she made an attempt to look presentable was a decided difference from her normal sweat clothes and tied-back hair.

“It seems like there is something on your mind today. Now we both know the reason you started coming here is no longer a factor. You are through with your grief and have handled it fairly well. The fact that you still come - and of course you are welcome here for as long as you believe it is helping you - tells me there is something else, something you are either looking for or maybe need the answer to. Now, we can sit here week after week and beat around the bush with this, or we can confront it and deal with it. It is really up to you. My only goal here is to help you become the best you can be.” Having said that, he leaned back, waiting for her reply.

“I have become aware recently that there is something missing in my life, something I had before and want again.” Cheri said slowly. “It is difficult to tell you what that something is, but I’ll try.” Her eyes remained fixed on the nameplate located on the corner of his desk.

Slowly, she continued running her thoughts through her mind before verbalizing them. “I have never been a very decisive person. When I was a child, my father and mother made all my decisions for me: what to wear, what to eat, what to take in school ... pretty much everything. When I graduated from high school, I married John, and he made those decisions for me.” She lifted her face, and her eyes locked into his. “I do not say this to complain; on the contrary, I enjoyed it. I know many people would say I need to be my own woman, independent and decisive in my own right. Well, I’m not sure that is possible for me or even desirable, but I know that I must do something. I am not being a good mother to Evan; in fact, he takes care of me more than the other way around.”

Hugo Black sat back and looked at his patient. What she said was no real surprise to him; he had already suspected something of the sort. Cheri Hill had a very submissive personality. Now they had a number of courses of action available. He could try to “cure” her. The problem with attempting a “cure” is that the patient must be at least partially willing to assist - meet him halfway as it were - and totally submissive personalities had a tendency to resist that form of treatment. He could offer institutionalization. Submissives did very well in the institutional setting. In an institution, they would direct her life right down to what she would eat, to when she went to bed, but that would be such a waste in this case. She was perfectly able to function with what he suspected was minimal guidance. Institutionalization would be a tragedy here.

The real question is what would make her happy, a fulfilled and functional person? It was obvious this personality quirk was not new; she probably had it all her life. Yet she spent over thirty years as a perfectly content person. That contentment is the true goal; the question is how to achieve it? He kept his eyes locked with hers.

“I think I understand,” he said slowly. “What we need to do is help you become the best person you can, and that may not fit the concept of what society considers normal. I see that our time is up. Why don’t you think about what it is you are looking for, what you think will help you?” Next week, they could take up where they left off. Now, why don’t you send in Evan? We’re running into his time as it is.”

---

“I am thoroughly impressed with your attention to detail and objective observations. Very clinical, and your incremental progression of stimuli is better than many graduate students I know.” Dr. Black set Evans’ journal down on the desk in front of him.

“So, ‘Doctor’, what, if anything, did your experiments reveal?”

“I... Well, I’m not sure.” Evan fidgeted in his seat, not daring to look at the doctor.

“I don’t think that’s quite correct. I believe you do have a conclusion. I would really like to hear it. It may be wrong, or it may be right. It may even be that we will never know if you are right or wrong. But let’s take a look at it nonetheless.”

Hugo Black was telling Evan the truth. He was very impressed by the young man’s attention to detail, use of progressive increase in stimuli, and very thorough record-keeping. Although the boy couldn’t realize it, his few crude experiments and observations fit almost perfectly with the profile Hugo was assembling on Cheri Hill. The question was how much to let the boy know? Would he, or even should he, be part of his mother’s therapy? There were many positives and negatives to that situation, but for now, it seemed best to let him proceed on his present course. Conventional medical ethics would, of course, demand the immediate cessation of this line of therapy, but then Hugo Black rarely worried about conventional medical ethics.

“Well, if I had to guess ... I think ... Well, she seemed to be happiest when I told her to do something!” he blurted out. “Not when I asked or hinted, just when I told her to do it. It’s almost like she wanted to be ordered to do it!”

A very sharp young man, very sharp indeed, maybe even too sharp!

“Maybe your mother is looking for a little direction in her life. What do you think of that?”

“You mean like for the longest time she did what Dad wanted her to do, and now she doesn’t have that?”

“Hmm, a little simplistic maybe, but it is a working theory. Why don’t you continue what you have been doing and, of course, keep track of it? She seems to be happier, so I can’t think that’s bad. Well, I’ll see you next week. Good work, Evan. What you are doing for your mother is admirable. I know she would approve.”

---

The drive home was unusually quiet; both Evan and Cheri had thoughts of their own to mull over. Evan kept his eyes on the road ahead as a soft rock station played some golden oldies. Cheri looked out the passenger window, not really seeing the landscape as they passed it by.

What was it the Doctor said? Evan thought to himself. Oh yes: “Maybe your mother is looking for a little direction in her life.”

Yes, that was it, but how to do that and how much was too much or even enough? It was obvious that she wanted to be told what to do around the house. Yes, that would be the starting point. Then what? Maybe what to wear and how to take care of herself? That thought sent a little shiver up his spine. Telling his mom what to wear and maybe she would actually do it! Maybe that little bikini swimsuit she used to have, the one where her breasts seemed to spill out and the bottom was so small it was like she was naked. He knew he shouldn’t be thinking these things about his own mother, but what the heck, she was a damn fine-looking woman, or at least used to be, and she would never know what he fantasized about, so who could it hurt?

As Evan lost himself in his own little world, Cheri thought about her talk with Dr. Black. She had been far blunter with him than she had meant to be. She had practically come out and said, “I want to be controlled! I need to be used!”

His reaction - actually his non-reaction - had surprised her. He understood her, understood what she hadn’t said as much as what she had, but he had been as casual as if she’d told him she was having some bad dreams. He even said he wanted to help her, not cure her or mold her into something normal, although she thought he would if she asked.

No, it seemed like he truly wanted to help her become whatever she really wanted to be, or at least accept what she wanted to be. But what did she want to be? What had she been? That was a little easier. For the past eighteen years, she had been a homemaker, a housewife. She had taken care of the home front: cleaned the house, washed the laundry, cooked the meals, bore, and raised the child.

She wished there had been more children, but there never were. She had seen a doctor and asked about it during a routine visit. Several tests later, it was confirmed that there were no problems with her, so the most likely culprit was John. Whether it was some medical problem or just his lack of desire for regular sex wasn’t certain; it’s tough getting pregnant just by giving blowjobs. Whatever the reason, the result was their one child.

Maybe that should be her reason, her goal. She had been his mother for eighteen years. Why not continue that? It was something she understood, she could do it well, or at least she had been able to do it well and should be able to again. If he could be her reason, then everything would be all right. The only thing left out was sex, and she missed that. Even the pseudo-sex that her husband had with her was gratifying for the most part.

She longed to have a nice big dick stuffed in her, but she had wanted that for many years and could live without it, she supposed. Sighing, she thought about maybe having a boyfriend, someone to satisfy what she longed for, but the thought of giving herself to someone other than her reason giver made her mentally cringe.

Her reason giver, a new thought popped into her head. If Evan became her reason giver, did that mean that she had to give herself to him? The thought appalled her, appalled, and excited her. Just thinking about her handsome son sent a hot flash through her body. He was handsome, tall, and muscular with a very masculine face that would never be mistaken for some pretty boy.

She pictured him standing behind her as she was tied to the posts of the bed in her punishment position, ass bare and sticking up in the air, ready to receive the consequences of her poor behavior. She could hear the sound of the light wooden paddle hissing through the air and the solid, meaty thunk as it hit her exposed cheeks. She could almost feel the sharp pain of the smack as it radiated out from her ass, turning to pleasure as it traveled through her body.

Her breath became ragged, and her pussy wet to the point of soaking through her panties. She crossed her legs, pressing them together as the erotic images ran through her mind, igniting desires that had been long dormant.

“Are you okay, Mom?”

“What? Huh?” The question shattered her train of thought. Like a stunned steer, she turned toward her son, not really understanding what she was hearing.

“I said, are you okay?” He glanced over at her. He could see as well as hear her ragged breathing, her legs crossed and clenched tightly. “Do you feel all right? You don’t sound good.”

Cheri mentally concentrated on slowing her breathing, trying to relax.

“Oh, I’m fine, honey. I just need to go to the bathroom really badly, but I can hold it till we get home.”

“Well, all right.” He didn’t sound convinced. “If you say so. We should be home in just a minute or two, but if you don’t feel ... Well, tell me right away. Do you hear me?”

“Of course, dear. To hear is to obey!” she said, trying to keep her voice light and jovial.

“Just you remember that, wench!” he growled at her, clenching his teeth in a mock snarl.

“Oh, Evan!” she laughed as they turned into the driveway, but his little comment, probably said in jest, caused another shiver of anticipation to run up and down her spine. He was beginning to sound so much like a reason giver she thought.

“That’s right. You just remember who’s giving the orders around here!” He puffed out his chest and flexed his muscles, causing her to giggle a little bit. “Now get in there before you pee your pants, and then,” his look became much more serious, “we need to talk about how we want things done around the house.”

“Okay, baby,” she said as she opened the car door, “I guess we do have some things to talk about. I’ll meet you in the family room after I am done and changed.”

“No!” he snapped, “not in there. I’ll meet you in the kitchen, and don’t bother to change. We can talk wearing what we have on now.”

“Oh, okay.” She was taken aback by his tone of voice and abruptness. Feeling the thrill of being told what to do, she scurried into the house and headed for the bathroom.

Evan watched his mother practically run from the driveway to the house. Letting out his breath, he willed his heart to slow back to normal. He had told her what to do, and she had again done it without question. Well, she hadn’t questioned it anyway; it remained to be seen if she would actually do it. He got out of the car and sauntered up to the house on his way to the kitchen.

Chapter 4: The New Ruler

Evan was seated at the table when Cheri walked into the kitchen. He was amazed to see that she hadn’t changed. Score one for the good guys, he thought. She walked over to the table and started to sit down.

“No,” he said, “just stand there for a minute. You and I have some serious business to talk about, but right now I intend to talk first.”

“But I’m your mother...” she started.

“I don’t give a shit!” he shouted and pounded the table with his fist.

Her hands went to her mouth, and a sound of a sob leaked past them. Her eyes glistened; it was obvious she was on the verge of tears. He pushed back from the table, got up, and started to walk towards her. He prayed she didn’t start to cry; he didn’t know if he could do this if she started to cry.

“I don’t really care right now,” he said. “We have a problem here, and I’ve had enough of it.” He moved to where he was about four inches away from her face, his eyes boring into her, burning through her like the hot flame of a torch.

“This place has been a fucking mess for the past two years now.” His language startled her, and she started to say something, but he continued as if he hadn’t noticed.

“This place is a mess. The house is filthy unless I clean it. Our clothes are dirty unless I wash them. We would starve if I didn’t buy the food and cook it most of the time. I understand that we should share the chores, but you haven’t done a damn thing for years except watch that stupid TV.”

His voice hissed through his teeth as she stood mesmerized like a mouse caught in the glare of the poised snake, unable to look anywhere but into those burning eyes. She shivered and yet felt like she was burning up. She wanted to fall to her knees and beg his forgiveness, but she was caught in his spell, unable to move.

“Well, I’ve had enough. Things are going to change around here. I understand that right after Dad died, you needed some time to grieve. Well, that was two years ago. We’ve both grieved, and now it’s time to get on with our lives, do you understand?” She could only nod her head, yes.

“Good. Now this is what is going to happen: You are going to start doing the laundry when it needs to be done, at least every other day. Got it?” Another nod of the head.

“You are also going to clean this trash heap and keep it clean. You are going to cook decent meals, and they will be on time from now on, is that clear? Oh, and one other thing: I don’t want you lying around all day in your robe. You will get up with me and get dressed in the morning just like a normal person. Now is all that clear? Good. Now get upstairs and get changed. You can start on the laundry now.”

Cheri dropped her hands, nodded her head, and mumbled, “Yes.” It was like she was part of a dream. She was being given a reason, many reasons, by a real reason giver. Things were so much clearer now, so much better. She turned and ran out towards her room. Only she could have known that the tears streaming down her cheeks were just as much tears of joy as they were from fear and humiliation.

---

Over the next few days, the change in their household was so dramatic that Evan was having a difficult time keeping his head from spinning off. His mother had become a cleaning demon, up in the morning early, usually before he was. Breakfast was ready, and she was dressed in her old cleaning clothes, ready to go. He had forgotten what a really clean house could look like. Everything shone with a sparkle he had only seen in television commercials.

He didn’t spend a great deal of time around the house those first few days. He thought it was better to see what she would do on her own without continuous prompting. So far, it was pretty good. When he returned home, he would find another part of the house cleaned to immaculate perfection, his clean laundry folded, ready to be put away, and dinner ready at precisely 6:00 p.m.

It was like a different woman had inhabited his mother’s body. Not only was the work getting done, but she seemed to be much happier. She smiled and hummed as she worked, and he had yet to see her sitting in any one place for more than a couple of minutes. No more vegging out in front of the tube; this woman was strictly business.

He hadn’t said anything else to her about the housework since the day he yelled at her. No criticism and no real praise. He wasn’t sure how she would take any praise. Remembering how his father acted around the house, he couldn’t think of one single time he had praised Cheri for anything she had done. Is that how she wanted to be treated? It seemed crazy, but who knows? Maybe that’s what she liked. Well, he decided, there is only one way to find out. She deserved to be recognized for the hard work she was pouring into the house, and he was going to give it to her. If she slacked off or had some other negative reaction, well, that would tell him something new, now wouldn’t it?

That evening, as they sat at the dinner table eating a really scrumptious bit of pot roast, he decided to go ahead with his experiment.

“Mom?” he looked over at her expectantly.

“Yes, dear?” She looked back at him with a somewhat puzzled look.

“I wanted to let you know that you have been doing a wonderful job around here lately.” She blushed and looked down at her plate.

“No, I really mean it,” he said. “The house looks fantastic, the laundry is always done and ready, and the food, well, this dinner is really magnificent! I just want you to know that I see what you’re doing and really, really appreciate it. I also wanted to say I’m sorry about the other day. I shouldn’t have yelled, and, well, let’s just say I’m sorry.”

Cheri raised her head to look at her son. Her emotions were in total chaos. She had been complimented on her work so few times in her life that she didn’t quite know how to handle it. Reason Givers gave the orders, and she carried them out. If she failed, she was punished, and if she did well, well, that was to be expected, wasn’t it?

This was something new. Each word praising her fell like rain on desert sand, sucked in and absorbed, radiating a feeling of pleasure like she had never known before. She liked this, she could get used to this, her reason giver rewarding her with something other than the absence of pain. It made her feel warm and flushed; this was good, very good! She would do almost anything to continue this. But now he was apologizing! To her! He hadn’t even beaten her and yet he was saying he was sorry for doing something that she obviously needed and deserved.

“No!” she said sharply, realizing she had said it far too loudly and strongly. She lowered her voice and her eyes again. “No. Don’t ever apologize for that again. I deserved that and more if the truth be known. I failed you for the past two years. I don’t know if I can make it up to you, but I’m going to try.” Keeping her eyes down, the blush came back to her cheeks, and she continued, “Thank you for noticing what I have been doing. It’s far too little and probably too late, but you don’t know what your appreciation means to me. It really means everything. Thank you.”

“No, thank you, Mom. Tell you what: As a reward for all the hard work you’ve been doing, I am going to take you out this Saturday night. Let’s go to dinner and a movie. It’s been too long; we both need to get out, and I’m going to take you. How does that sound?”

“That ... that sounds wonderful, honey.” Her heart was beating a million times a minute. John had almost never taken her out except when it was business-related. He had told her her place was in the home, and that was where she would stay, and now dinner and a movie! It sounded like heaven!

“Good, then it’s a date. Well, leave at 7:00, dress nicely, we’ll go to that new steakhouse, and then out to the movies.”

---

For the next few days, Cheri worked like a mad fiend. Anything that wasn’t cleaned was, and everything that had already been cleaned was again. The house sparkled from top to bottom. Evan continued to compliment her, as it seemed to make her happier and work even harder. He was really proud of what she had accomplished in less than one week.

“Great job, Mom!” he would say as he passed her while she worked, or “Wow! That looks great.” Once, he even patted her on the ass as he passed, saying, “Don’t work so hard. Everything is caught up, so take a little time for yourself.” The compliments made her feel warm and content, but that pat on the ass made her burn and yearn. It had been a long time since she had felt the itch down there, and now she was constantly in a state of semi-arousal.

Instead of immediately falling asleep like she usually did at night, now she lay awake staring up at the ceiling, pressing her legs together, trying to suppress feelings that were coming unbidden. Sweating lightly, she was warm, almost as if she had a slight fever; her light nightgown felt like a blanket trapping the heat within her. She got up, turned on the ceiling fan, and pulled off the nightgown. Lying on the bed, spread-eagled, she couldn’t help but think how slutty this must look, but other than glancing at the door to make sure it was closed, she didn’t move to cover herself.

That pat on the ass had burned like a branding iron. It hadn’t been a grope or even a caress, but she had felt it through her shorts like his hand had been a red-hot piece of iron. Visions of her son came unbidden to her mind. He was standing at the foot of the bed; all she could see of him was his upper torso, naked in the moonlight. She could almost feel the ropes tying her feet to the posts of the king-sized bed, stretching her apart and utterly open and helpless to his view.

Her nipples crinkled in anticipation, although in her fantasy her hands were tied. Since she could move them, she did. Slowly, she cupped her breasts as they lay flat on her chest like water balloons not quite inflated to their proper size. Fingers traced their outline, nails slightly digging in, causing sharp pulses of sensation. Working her way up, her tits finally reached her nipples. Rolling them between her fingers, she imagined it was Evan lightly caressing her, gently pulling the erect nubs until they stood at attention by themselves. Pinching harder, the pain/pleasure shot through her body, seeming to pool in her crotch, where it manifested itself as a growing wetness seeping out from between delicate pink lips.

While her left hand continued pinching and pulling at a nipple, her right hand slowly began to work its way down over her slightly rounded abdomen until her fingers gently caressed her labia, teasing her outer lips with feather-light touches. She could see him bending down between her legs, pushing them apart at the knees, opening her up to his most intimate inspection.

It was his fingers that gently worked at her lips, prying them apart, the tips moving down into her as he explored ever deeper into her being. As the fingers found and caressed her clit, sending jolts of electricity through her body, she imagined him rising up and over her, his face and chest filling her vision. From where she was, she couldn’t see his cock, but she could feel the head of the hardened shaft rub against her pussy lips as he positioned himself to take her.

He stared into her eyes, a slight smile on his lips; he needed no guiding to find his proper place. Eighteen years ago, he had come out of there, and now he was poised to return. Her breathing was hard and ragged; she wanted to press her hips up to him, wanting him to enter her, to possess her. She was the prize mare being held down while the stud stallion bred her. Slowly, he moved his hips forward, and the head of his cock parted the folded lips of her cunt like a hot knife cleaving through butter...

Her orgasm hit her like a runaway freight train. Exploding without warning, she felt her entire body suddenly grow rigid, her muscles locked and shaking. Pleasure coursed through her body, wave after wave hitting her on one side and then the other. Finally, they subsided, and she let her arms flop down to her sides.

It had been the most wonderful thing she had felt in years, much better than the few times John had actually fucked her, and much, much better than the spankings and pain he usually gave her. Of course, she knew how to masturbate, but he had forbidden it, saying she had no right to self-pleasure since she was his and designed for his pleasure only. He had caught her playing with herself before, and when that happened, or if he even suspected it, the punishment would be long and painful. Usually, it resulted in an orgasm for her, but nothing like this pleasure, pleasure without pain, was a new and uniquely novel idea to her.

After she lay drowsing for a while, she began to think about what she had done, not really about masturbating - she was an adult and had no problem with something so natural - but with the fantasies that came to her while she was doing it.

In her fantasy, there was no doubt it was her son that she envisioned taking her. The thought should have disgusted her, repulsed her, but it didn’t. In fact, it seemed the most natural thing in the world: He was her reason giver, wasn’t he? He demonstrated that this week. He controlled her, and she was his. Yes, he was her son, but that meant he really loved her, didn’t it?

He had given her reasons and then complimented her, told her how good she was doing; he’s even going to take her out as a reward! He was becoming what she truly needed: He was her compass, her navigator, her captain, the master of her ship. She smiled as she lay back; it didn’t matter anyway, did it? Fantasies were just that: fantasies. Such a handsome young man wouldn’t want anything to do with an old bag like me anyway, she thought, but as she drifted off to sleep, she could still feel the ghostly push of a cock head as it entered her, pushing in, deeper, deeper...

---

It was six o’clock Saturday night, and Cheri was in a tizzy. Dress nicely, he had said. Nicely! Did he mean dress up, kind of sexy? She blushed as she thought about it, remembering the last few nights and the fantasies that took over when she went to bed. Or did he mean dress nice as in “taking Mom out for dinner” type of nice? Did she wear the beige suit? It was nice, but she thought it made her look a bit matronly. Maybe the blue dress? That was a bit more risqué, with the hem ending two or three inches above her knees and a plunging neckline that gave an ample view of her cleavage. A pair of hose with matching three-inch heels set off the outfit perfectly. It was a bit tight on her - the last few years of inactivity hadn’t been kind - but it didn’t look too bad.

The question was what was she trying to do? Was she trying to seduce her son or just go out for the evening? She told herself they were just going out for a little time together and for something different, but she wasn’t sure she really believed it herself. There had never really been any doubt which one she was going to wear. The only thing that would stop her would be if he told her to change.

Evan was looking at his watch as she came down the stairs. He appeared to be mildly irritated when he looked up and saw her. His eyes got big and round, his jaw dropping as his mouth opened. Closing his mouth and swallowing, he looked up into her eyes.

“Oh Mom, you look absolutely beautiful.”

“Is this all right? I’m not overdressed, am I? Do you think I should change?” She was blushing from his statement and with the look he was giving her she already knew what his answer would be, but it didn’t hurt to hear it, did it?

“All right? Oh yes, more than all right; you are perfect! Change, don’t you dare! Maybe I should be taking you to the opera instead of the movies, but change? Never! Your carriage awaits you, milady,” he said holding his arm out for her to take.

---

At the restaurant he gave the keys to the valet and practically ran around to open her door. She couldn’t remember ever having been treated like this. He was actually showing her off! Strolling slowly to the maître d’s podium she could feel the eyes of the male guests following her as they walked. She felt like a prize being displayed to the crowd, a trophy catch paraded by the victor. It felt wonderful! She was tingly and giddy, she was amazed that anyone would actually want to look at her but even more amazed that Evan wanted her to be seen, not just seen but seen as his!

They were shown to their table. It was indeed a very nice restaurant: dark enough to be somewhat intimate yet not so dark as to be dingy. It was nicely conducive for two people who may have lived together but have not really known each other for the past few years. They talked about many things during the course of dinner: school and soccer to begin with, but as they progressed, they were able to talk about what the last few years had meant or done to them. She practically cried, blubbering with apologies for the non-mother she had been until he forbade her to continue, saying a major shock like his father’s death was enough reason and no apologies were needed or desired.

As dinner came to a close, he reached over and gently held her hand and, looking into her eyes, told her how glad he was that she was now “back” and how proud he was of her over the past week. She just nodded, afraid that if she spoke, her voice would crack, and she would begin crying again. She looked into his eyes, and it struck her - not that it was much of a surprise at that - that she now belonged to him, heart, body, and soul. Not with him, to him. He may not know it yet, but he owned her. She was his to do with as he pleased. If he told her to whore for him, she would, just because he asked her to. Kill for him? No problem. Die for him? Of course. He was her life, her god, her master.

Suddenly, with this epiphany, a great weight was suddenly lifted from her shoulders. Since she belonged to him, he was now responsible for her; he would take care of her. He made the decisions, and she just needed to do what he told her. It was amazing how realizing you’re a slave - although she didn’t really think of herself in those terms - made you free!

She didn’t need to be in charge now; the only pressure failure held for her now was if she failed to perform to his expectations. She wouldn’t fail by making wrong decisions. He was young for such a responsibility, but she knew he could handle it. He was strong and smart; he had really been running the household for the past two years, ever since he was sixteen! Oh yes, he could handle it.

Evan could sense the change in his mother immediately. She seemed happy all night, talkative, smiling, but all of a sudden it was like someone threw the switch on the Christmas tree. Her face lit up; it was the only way he could describe it, she just lit up. He had been telling her how proud he was of her, and then the small worry lines that had become so much a part of her face just disappeared, her smile got bigger, her eyes brighter. It was as if a drug had suddenly kicked in, but he knew she hadn’t taken anything. Besides, her eyes weren’t glassy. In fact, she appeared more aware of her surroundings than ever, just more relaxed. Well, like the doctor says, this can’t be anything but a good thing.

The rest of the meal passed quickly, although he could swear that she kept bending over on purpose, allowing him long looks down her dress into her magnificent cleavage. It was never obvious, and when he looked at her face, she was always looking or doing something else, but it just couldn’t be by accident, could it?

Accident or not, the view was wonderful. The low plunging top accentuated the tops of her creamy globes. His mother had never been huge in that department, but what she had was perfectly proportioned, and when displayed properly, like now, it would give a stone statue a hardon. Even as they finished and got up to leave, he thought he could detect a little more swish in her walk, something that told you you were supposed to look, that she wanted you to look. He didn’t know what had happened, but he sure wouldn’t complain about it!

The rest of the evening was taken up by the movie they had decided to see. He had picked a chick flick, thinking his mom would like it, although he really wasn’t interested all that much. That was probably a good thing because he found it almost impossible to concentrate on the show. More than ever, he could feel his mom’s presence sitting beside him, but not as his mom, as a sexy woman.

When she sat down and crossed her legs, the hem of her dress pulled up to within inches of her crotch. Her legs drew his eyes like a magnet, but that wasn’t all. As the movie started, she leaned over to him and rested against his shoulder. Without thinking, he put his arm around her, bringing her even closer. He couldn’t believe she was letting him do this! She was acting like this was perfectly natural, scrunching in close to him and laying her hand on his leg near his knee. From this vantage point, he not only felt her next to him, could see almost all her legs, but had a perfect view down the front of her dress! He was in heaven! That is until he started to get hard. His growing erection was pushing its way down his pants leg, the one her hand rested on, of course! He held his breath. What would she do? He couldn’t stop it. Even knowing he would be embarrassed as hell, it didn’t seem to stop his expression of lust!

He had never thought of himself as “well-hung.” As with all boys, he had measured himself when erect, and it came out to be a little over 7 inches. It wasn’t small, but he wasn’t horse-size either. Right then, it felt like it had to be a foot long and as big around as a telephone pole. Slowly, his erection grew and moved towards where his mother’s hand was gently caressing his leg. Inch by inch, it burrowed in his pants, creating what looked like a mole tunnel heading straight for her hand.

He froze, barely breathing. What would she do? Jump up screaming? Push him away? He began to tremble. Finally, the head had pushed to where the heel of her hand rested, pushing under and lifting it up. He waited for her reaction, and waited, and waited. Her hand rested lightly on top of his by now fully erect member, cupped slightly as if she was holding it. She gave no outward sign that she knew it was there.

Impossible, he thought! She was practically holding it in her hand; she had to know! Then, very softly, almost imperceptibly, her fingers closed around his shaft, giving it a gentle squeeze. Evan thought he was going to die, with embarrassment or pleasure; which one he wasn’t quite sure, maybe both!

Cheri almost jumped when she felt the lump push under her hand. She was feeling good, really good. Here she was taking it easy at a nice movie, with her man, her owner. He had his arm around her, and it felt wonderful. Watching the movie, a real - what did they call it? Oh yes, chick flick - he must have picked it for her; it sure wasn’t the kind he usually wanted to see. That was sweet of him! So here she was watching the movie, feeling very comfortable in the protection of his arm, leaning against him with her hand casually resting on his thigh, when suddenly something poked her hand. At first, she couldn’t decide what to do: fight or flee? Scream or try to hit it away? So she just froze.

After a few short seconds, she realized what it had to be. It was his cock! He was getting a hardon! The first thought that ran through her mind was what was causing this? Circumspectly, she glanced around the theater. There were only a few patrons there that night, none very close, and she wouldn’t have considered any of them to be particularly sexy. The movie, especially at this point, was decidedly non-arousing. So where did this reaction come from? She glanced down and saw that the hem of her dress had ridden up to well above mid-thigh. Nothing unmentionable was visible, but there was a great deal of leg exposed. Suddenly, she realized that from his vantage point, he would be able to look right down her dress into her cleavage! Oh my God, she thought, I’m doing this! He’s getting aroused because of me! I’m turning on my own son! She began to blush, her face feeling hot. The heat spread throughout her body, settling in her groin, where decidedly un-motherly feelings were beginning to surface.

Deciding to experiment, or maybe just to tease, she began to lightly bounce her crossed leg, her pump dangling off the end of her toe. Not only did this draw attention to her legs but tended to move the hem of her dress even farther up on her thighs. There was a whole lot of leg exposed now! Along with that, she slightly twisted her torso, thrusting her chest out just a little bit more, not so much exposing more tit but certainly making it that much harder to ignore.

She was rewarded when she heard a slight intake of breath next to her, and the hardening rod under her hand suddenly inflated to full size! She let her fingers gently curl around the tubular shape, stretching his pants, not quite holding it, just sort of conforming to its contours. As lightly as she was touching it, she couldn’t get a real good idea of its size other than it was pretty big! Much bigger than his father’s, that’s for sure! The fact that her hand was halfway up his thigh and grasping his shaft told her this was no tiny tool! She shivered. Her man was a well-built man; that was nice, very nice!

She could feel the tension radiating from him. He must be scared to death, she thought. This will never do! She was glad she could arouse him; it was his right to use her any way he wanted, including for his sexual gratification. It was true he didn’t know that yet, but somehow, sometime, he would, and he needed to be eased into his role as soon as possible. First, she must eliminate his fear; later, they would work on other things.

She was beginning to realize that a good master needed to be trained as much as the servant did. She thought that was kind of funny; the submissive needed to teach the dominant how to dominate her! But right now was a good time to begin letting him know there wasn’t anything he couldn’t do to or around her.

“It seems that someone is enjoying the show,” she whispered so that only he could hear, then giving his cock a little squeeze to leave no doubt what she was talking about.

“I’m-I’m s-s-sorry, M-Mom,” he stammered in a hoarse whisper. His arm was rigid around her shoulder, and she could hear his heart beating like a loud, fast drum as she rested against him. Then he started to lift his arm off her shoulder.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay.” Calmly, she took her free hand and captured the arm he was moving, bringing it back down to her shoulder, and then down under her arm where it almost touched her breast.

“It’s okay, honey. Relax. It’s really okay.” Emphasizing her words, she clamped down on the hand around her, snuggling even tighter into his side and gently squeezed his cock through his pants.

Evan groaned. He didn’t understand why his mother didn’t jump up and slap him, let alone touch and squeeze him like she was doing. Understand it, no, but right now he was going to relax just like she said and enjoy it. The hand squeezing his cock didn’t really feel like much through the underwear and pants, but he could certainly feel something, and it certainly felt good!

He tried to relax, shifting his weight and scrunching down in the seat, giving his mom more room to play with him. For his part, he gently rubbed up and down her side under her arm, hoping this told her how much he was enjoying her ministrations. He wished he had the courage to move his hand farther under her arm, to cup the breast that was just inches away, but he didn’t.

By the end of the movie, his balls ached. He had had an erection, carefully ministered to by a beautiful woman for over one full hour. He couldn’t wait to get home and get some release. He thought if she touched him one more time, he was going to blow it right there in his pants. He had a bit of trouble walking to the car. The erection wouldn’t go away, and it was almost painful when he tried to move.

“A little stiff from sitting too long?” Cheri whispered to him as he opened the car door for her. He blushed furiously, hobbled around to the driver’s side, and maneuvered himself behind the wheel with a grimace.

“Are you all right, honey?” Cheri asked him, a worried expression on her face.

“I’ll be okay, Mom,” he grunted.

“Well, I don’t know how you could be,” she motioned toward his groin, “given the state you’re in, that is.”

He blushed, and his hand moved to cover himself, but he stopped. After all, she had just spent the better part of an hour feeling his hardon; seeing the bulge wouldn’t shock her any more than that.

“I’m really sorry,” he began, “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. This has been such a perfect night, and now I guess I spoiled it.”

“Spoiled it? Now why would you say that? Let me ask you something: What was it that led to your, shall we say, excited ... state?” she asked in a reasonable tone.

If possible, he blushed even deeper and stared at the steering wheel.

“Do you promise not to get mad?”

“Oh, of course, I won’t get mad, baby.”

“It’s you!” he blurted out.

“Why, thank you, honey! I’m flattered.”

“You’re not mad?”

“How could I be mad? A very handsome man I happen to love tells me he finds me attractive, and I’m supposed to get mad? I don’t think so.” She looked down at his “problem” and pursed her lips.

“So I did this to you, did I? Well, I guess it would only be fair if I took care of it for you then. Do you mind?”

“Ah, oh, I guess not,” he stammered.

Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a large handkerchief. Quickly, she reached over and with both hands unzipped his pants. Her left hand pushed his underwear out of the way while her right hand grabbed his cock, pulling it out and into the open.

“My poor baby,” she murmured, “I bet this really hurts. Let Mama take care of it for you.” Her mouth watered when she saw his magnificent piece of meat for the first time in years. It was beautiful, a full seven inches, maybe more, somewhat slender but perfectly formed. The head was a flesh-colored knob on the end of a vein-covered spear. It looked delicious; she wanted to take it into her mouth but couldn’t. He had to tell her to do that. She would provide him relief but couldn’t go any further than that on her own. It didn’t make much sense, but she knew that was the way it had to be.

Placing the handkerchief over the end, she started to slowly jack her hand up and down his shaft. His eyes rolled back in his head, mouth open, staring at the ceiling. This shouldn’t take very long, she thought, he’s been primed all night. She was right. It didn’t take but a few strokes, and his cock was jumping around in her hand, squirting semen into the cloth.

Evan was never entirely sure, but he might have passed out for a second to two at that point. As if in a dream, he saw his beautiful mom reach over, unzip his pants, and pull out his dick. Placing a handkerchief over the head, she wrapped her slim, cool fingers around his shaft and began to slowly move up and down its length. The feeling was incredible.

Other girls had given him a hand job on dates before, and of course, he had done it himself countless times, but this: this was something special. Her hand was cool but incredibly soft, the touch firm but not rough. As soon as she touched him, he could feel the pressure building up in his balls. There was no way he was going to be able to hold back even if he wanted to.

A few strokes later, he went rigid, his balls contracted, and his cum erupted from the head of his cock to be captured by the handkerchief strategically placed there. As his spurting geyser slowly ebbed to a dribble and finally stopped, his body relaxed all at once. A feeling of total calm engulfed his body. The ache in his groin was gone, and as far as he was concerned, all was right with the world. He moved his head slightly to look at his mother; she was smiling at him, a twinkle in her eye.

“Thank you,” he whispered breathlessly. “That was wonderful. I can’t believe you did that, but it was wonderful!”

Leaning over, she gave him a kiss on the cheek, somewhat more than motherly but less than sexual, something like what you could expect on a first date.

“Well, I couldn’t let you continue to hurt like that, now could I?” she said, leaning back a little. Her hands were stuffing him back into his pants and zipping them up. “After all, you did say it was my fault, although I still don’t believe that I could have turned you on, not with all that gorgeous young fluff you have running around that school of yours. I must look like an old hag to you. And besides, I did tease you in the movie, didn’t I? Well, anyway, I couldn’t let you continue with blue balls, could I?”

Without thinking, he reached across his body and grasped her around the back of her neck. Pulling her towards him, he first gave her a kiss on her cheek, much harder than the one she gave him, and then a quick kiss on the lips. Releasing her neck, he dropped his hand, turned toward her, and grasped both her hands in his while staring into her eyes.

“Mom, let me say this quick before I lose my nerve. You are one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. I hope I didn’t embarrass you tonight, but it was you, just you! You look so damn sexy tonight you could arouse a statue. I ... I was so proud to be with you tonight. I felt like a real man for the first time. Every man that saw you wanted you, and every woman wanted to scratch your eyes out! And I was with you! Me! Thank you!” With that, he lifted her hands to his mouth and kissed them several times.

“Oh, baby, I’m so glad you enjoyed being with me tonight. I wanted to look pretty for you; I wanted you to be proud!” Tears were brimming in her eyes, threatening to spill out any second. “Let’s go home, honey. We have some things we need to talk about, and we can be more comfortable there than sitting here in the car.”

Thinking she was going to put him in his place, he cringed slightly and turned to face forward. Oh heck, he thought, so what if she does take me down a notch? I had a great time tonight, and what other boy could honestly say he had his mother play with his cock in a movie theater and then jack him off afterwards? And besides, she didn’t really seem mad. Well, we’ll just have to wait and see what she has in mind.

He started the car and pulled out onto the road. He reached over and gave her hand a squeeze. She squeezed back and didn’t release him until they were safely parked in their garage. He got out and went around to open her door and offer his hand to help her out. As she stood, she suddenly wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I don’t know if it’s still the custom, but long ago, the girl had to give her date a kiss before she went inside.” Her eyes sparkled as she looked up at him. “Of course, this may be a little anticlimactic since we have already moved on to the hand job, but here goes.”

With that, she stood on her tiptoes and brought his lips down to hers. His arms automatically went around her back and drew her closer to his body. The focus of their universe suddenly shrunk to two pairs of lips. Soft, firm, and slightly moist. Evan could feel nothing except the wonderful sensation of her lips pressed against his.

Gradually, he became aware that her lips had slightly parted, and her tongue was gently probing for his. He opened, allowing his tongue to dart out to lightly touch the tip of hers. More boldly, their two fleshy appendages caressed each other, explored one another’s oral cavities. He savored her taste; she was like a sweet honey candy he had developed a craving for. Reluctantly, they broke apart, more from the discomfort of their position than anything else.

“Oh my,” she said. “In my day, the kiss was supposed to let the man know how much the woman enjoyed their date. I hope that told you how much I enjoyed being out with you tonight.”

Actually, she thought, in her day, a kiss like that would have meant she would be getting a cock stuffed inside her in two minutes. Her toes still tingled, let alone what it did to her now sopping-wet pussy. What she really wanted was for him to turn her over the hood of the car, push her dress up around her waist, rip her panties off, and plunge his stiff dick into her craving cunt!

But he didn’t know he could do that yet. What she wouldn’t give to be able to just lift her dress up and scream for him to fuck her, but she couldn’t. He had to take her. She would do anything he wanted, anything! But he had to start it. Why it had to be that way, she didn’t know, but that is the way it had always been for her, and she didn’t see it ever changing. Heaving a big sigh, she let go of him.

“Wow,” he said. “If that kiss tells me how much you enjoyed going out tonight, then you must have liked it almost as much as I did!”

“Tell you what, baby,” she giggled as she led him into the house, “I’m going to go upstairs and change. Why don’t you get into something more comfortable if you want to and open a bottle of wine for us? You’re old enough now to have a little drink or two. Meet me in the living room, and we can have a drink and talk about a few things.”

Agreeing, he ran to his room and threw on a clean T-shirt and gym shorts. Heading down to the kitchen, he rummaged around in the refrigerator, finding the bottle he knew his mom usually kept there. Armed with a corkscrew he found in a drawer and two wineglasses from a cabinet, he marched into the living room, feeling very much the mature and ever so much grown-up man. It took him a few minutes to figure out how to use the corkscrew, but he finally got the bottle opened and filled the two glasses. He took a taste and found it to be fairly sweet with just a slight sharp tang. Not bad, he thought,not bad at all.

When Cheri entered the room, Evan was sitting casually on the couch, legs crossed and a wineglass in his hand. She had put on a robe, not the ratty old blue one -that one would soon be in the rag bag - and a nightgown underneath. Nothing exceptionally sexy. Now wasn’t the time to advertise, she thought. Now was the time to clear the air, a little anyway, and set the ground rules for what will be the beginning of their new life.

Accepting the offered glass from Evan’s outstretched hand, she sat beside him on the couch, folding her legs under her. Taking a sip of the sweet wine, she set the glass down on the coffee table and turned to look at him.

“First, before anything else, I want to tell you how wonderful tonight was,” she said, smiling. “It has been a long time since I have been made to feel special like that. I know I haven’t been much help around here lately, but I think that will change. With your help, I know it will change.”

“Of course, I’ll help, Mom!” Evan wasn’t at all sure what was coming up. Given what happened tonight, it could be very good, or maybe not so good. He felt a little guilty, but he couldn’t help but remember the feeling of his mother’s cool, slim fingers wrapped around his cock, and he wanted more of it. God help him, he wanted a lot more of it!

“I’ll be here, and whatever needs doing, I’ll do,” he continued.

“I know you will, baby.” Leaning over, Cheri gave his arm a pat and a slight caress. “I’m going to try to explain what we need, really what I need. It’s not simple, and I’m not sure I can explain everything. Maybe what I can’t, we can get Dr. Black to help us with.”

“Sure, Mom, whatever you want.” His expression was more along the lines of “get on with it.”

“I guess the most important thing is you are now the man of the house.” She looked directly into his eyes, “Do you understand what that means?”

“Maybe,” he said thoughtfully. “But to be sure, why don’t you tell me what you expect from the man of the house?”

Cheri sighed, This might be a little easier than I originally thought. Maybe he knew what he was doing and maybe not. Either way, his asking for what I expected meant I don’t have to directly tell him what he needed to do. Why she couldn’t be more direct, she didn’t know, but this way, she could explain what she needed without violating her own internal restrictions.

“The man of the house,” she began, “is the leader of our household. He makes the decisions about big things and little. He needs to be strong where I am not. I rely on him to tell me what to do and what is important. I know how to do it, at least most of the time, but I need help deciding when to do it.

“Evan, you don’t understand, I know that. I’m not sure I do completely,” she looked deeply into his eyes, “I need you to be the man of the house for me. What you tell me to do, I will do, just like your father did. Tell me to do something, and I will.”

Evan’s head was swimming, and it wasn’t just the wine, although it was making his thinking a little fuzzy. What she was telling him seemed to fit with what he had observed. The cooking, cleaning, and household chores she did only after he blew up and told her what to do. Couple that with the fact that she seemed to be happier after that happened.

This was something new to him. Not that he was a particularly domineering person, but the thought of having someone else do your thinking for you just didn’t appeal to him. Actually, it sounded like a lot of work. He had enough trouble making sure he got his own work done without worrying about someone else’s.

But maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. After he told her what to do the other week, it wasn’t like he had to follow her around all day to make sure it was done. Could be he just needed to set up the big priorities, and she would be able to handle the rest. He could talk to Dr. Black about this also, well, about most of it anyway; he sure wasn’t going to tell him about the hand job!

That brought up another interesting point: What did she mean by “Tell me to do something and I will?” Did that mean anything? More hand jobs? Maybe something more? He was getting an erection just thinking about the possibilities, so he tried to push it from his mind.

“Mom,” he said slowly, “you’re right, I don’t really understand, but I do know this: I love you, and whatever it takes to make you happy, I will do, or at least try. You say this is what your father used to do; did you like what he did? Should I do the same?”

She hesitated slightly before responding.

“Your father was a very controlling man. We fit fairly well together in that way. But when I say controlling, I mean very controlling. He ran my life down to the last detail. What I would wear, what to cook, what day to do laundry, what day to shop ... everything. I ... well, I don’t need to be told what to do in quite that detail!”

“Wow, I never knew that was going on,” Evan was truly amazed. “When did he do all this? I mean, he was gone so much, he was usually here only on the weekends.”

“That’s when he would give me my ... orders.” She had almost said reasons, but for some reason, it didn’t seem right to say that to him. Reasons were what ruled her life; he may be the reason giver, but let him just think of them as orders; reasons were just too personal. Besides, it made her sound even crazier than she really was!

“He would write his lists during the week and give them to me when he got home. Then he would review what I had done and punish me if I missed anything.” Oops, she thought, that kind of slipped out!

Maybe it was the wine or maybe because it seemed so right to talk to Evan this way, but she was saying a little more than she had originally intended. Oh well, she sighed, he did own her now, didn’t he? If he wanted to know, who was she to keep it from him?

“Punish you? What do you mean punish you? For what and how?” Evan may have been just a little drunk, but he zeroed in right away on her little slip of the tongue.

“Well,” she tried to think of a less graphic way of answering, but the master asked, and she must answer. “Well, he would spank me if I didn’t do exactly what he told me or if it wasn’t done exactly to his liking.” She was getting a little uncomfortable. Not only was this her son, but also this could get very graphic, and the very thought of talking about it was making her horny. She could feel her vagina begin to secrete lubricating fluid. She was becoming wet!

”Spanked you? He spanked you? With what? His hand?”

“Ah, well, yes, sometimes with his hands,” she was blushing a deep red. This whole line of questioning was turning to a subject she didn’t think she, or he, was ready for yet. It was humiliating, degrading; telling him how his father controlled and punished her made her feel used and dirty. It was wonderful! The more she talked about it, the hotter she got. She craved the humiliation, she wanted to be used and degraded. He was giving her just what she needed, and he didn’t even know it!

“Yes, sometimes with his hand, and sometimes with a paddle, or even a small whip.”

“You let him do this to you? Why? How?”

“How or why? Well, he would tie me up, that’s how. He tied me up, and I couldn’t move.”

“But why would you let him do that to you? Did you enjoy it? Did you like getting hit, being hurt?” Evan was wide-eyed; he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Again, it fit what he had heard those years past, the strange sounds, the smacking of flesh, and the whimpering cries.

“I never liked the pain, baby,” she stared at the couch between them, afraid to look him in the eye. Afraid she would see disapproval, or worse: disgust. She could live with a lot, but she couldn’t live with her son thinking she was some kind of sicko. “I hated the pain; I’m not very good with pain. Yes, I like being tied up, and maybe even a little smack or two was, well, kind of exciting, but he hit very hard. He liked to hurt me, and that I didn’t like.”

“Mom,” Evan reached out his hand and lifted her chin so they were looking eye to eye, “I don’t think I can hurt you. No matter what you do or how much you want it, I don’t think I can really hurt you; I love you too much for that. Is that what you want me to do? Tie you up and beat you? I suppose I could tie you up and maybe even spank you a little, but I could never beat you!” Tears started streaming down her cheeks, and he lifted his T-shirt to wipe them off. Taking her glass, he filled it with the rest of the wine and handed it to her.

“Here, drink the rest of this. I didn’t want to make you cry. I just don’t know what I should say.”

She tossed down the glass of wine, her head swimming a little both from the wine and from him. She didn’t know where she should go with it right then, but her mouth seemed to know.

“Oh baby, I’m crying because I’m so happy. You don’t know what it means to hear you say this to me.” She smiled a little and had a little trouble focusing on him, but her mouth seemed to have no trouble working. In fact, she couldn’t stop it.

“I’m happy, uh, glad, that you don’t want to hurt me.” Her words were becoming a little slurred as the last glass of wine hit her bloodstream. “But maybe we can play some games together if you like. You don’t have to hurt me to have fun. Nope, we can have lots of fun without hurts.”

He could definitely tell she was more than a little looped, but what she was saying! Could it be true? It seemed like she was saying they could play sex games! He wondered if it was the wine talking or if it was what she really meant. No telling tonight, he thought. Maybe he should just get her to bed and tomorrow they could talk about it some more. He started to get up but found it was extremely difficult with the erection this talk had given him. His shorts were tented like he had stuffed a huge banana down his pants. He was slightly embarrassed, but then his mother had seen this before, and taken care of it for him, while she was sober! He moved to stand up and help get her to bed.

Cheri would have had to have been a lot more drunk than she was to miss his situation as he stood to help her up. When he stood up his tented shorts were about eye level to her. Chuckling she reached out and grabbed his cock through the shorts.

“Looks like someone enjoyed our little talk,” she began to jack him off through the pants as he groaned.

“Oh Mom, that feels great but maybe you can take care of me upstairs. I would like that.”

“Okay, baby, let’s go!” She wobbled just a little as she got to her feet. She was feeling pretty good but was not really drunk. She had lost some of her inhibitions, which she thought might be a good idea.

Although she really didn’t need it, he placed his arm around her waist and guided her to the stairs and up to her room, her hand still holding him firmly. As they entered her bedroom she whirled around and sank to her knees.

“Does the Master want this one to do something?” she said breathlessly.

His heart started beating rapidly again. He looked down at his beautiful mother kneeling in front of him inches away from his throbbing cock. Maybe this is where she wanted him to be strong, he thought. Give her orders, tell her what to do.

“Yes, wench, I demand you service me. You see what you have caused. Now you must take care of it.” He was proud that his voice didn’t break when he said it. He fully expected her to tell him to go to hell and throw him out of her room. Instead, she reached up and pulled his shorts down to his knees, his dick springing free, jutting out to almost hit her in the eye.

“Oh yes, Milord. Your wish is my command.” Reaching up, she grabbed his throbbing cock and began to slowly jack him up and down its length. Her shining eyes gazed at the bulbous head like a hawk watching a mouse, just waiting for it to move. Her hand felt excruciatingly wonderful. Her small, cool fingers wrapped around his shaft provided the perfect amount of pressure. Soon, the pressure was building in his ball; he knew it wouldn’t be very long before he would be shooting all over her face. He didn’t think she would like that, so he tried to warn her.

”Ah, Mom, I, I, think I’m, going to cum, now, in, your, face, watch, {i}out.”

Just as he felt the surge of cum rise up through his cock, her mouth darted forward and engulfed as much of him as she could. She could only get about three to four inches in her, especially this quickly, but it was enough. The unbelievable feeling of her hot, sucking lips on his dick magnified his orgasm beyond any he had ever experienced. Wad after wad of semen and sperm shot into her mouth, where it was eagerly gulped down and swallowed with little or no problem. Finally, his ejaculation slowed and stopped. She continued to suck and lick him clean until he started to soften and slip from her mouth. Looking up at him, she smiled, a little twinkle in her eye that wasn’t put there by the wine.

“Was Milord satisfied? Has his problem been relieved?”

Leaning down, he placed his hands under her arms and lifted her back to her feet. With one hand slipping down and around her waist, the other held her chin while he lowered his head to kiss her lips. Eagerly pressing against him, her lips readily parted when his tongue tentatively explored her oral cavity. He could taste the salty residue of his spunk in her mouth, and far from being disgusting, it excited him to realize she had taken and swallowed his whole load.

Breaking their embrace, he pushed her toward her bed. Her breath coming deep and raggedly, there was a definite flush to her face. He thought she wanted more. He knew he did, but he was too unsure of himself right now to see just how far he could push it. Maybe tomorrow when they were both sober, then he would see, but not right now.

“You have done very well, wench. Now get to bed. You have a house to clean in the morning, and you need to be up at the crack of dawn.” He bent down and pulled up his shorts, turned, and walked to the door as she sunk down into her bed. At the door, he turned and before he turned out the light, he said, “Good night, Mom. I love you.”

“Love you too, baby,” she whispered as he closed her door.

She was hot and bothered, wet and wanting. He could have had her tonight; she knew it, he knew it, so why didn’t he? She didn’t know, but it didn’t really matter. She had been used, given her reason, and there were no beatings or pain. She thrust two fingers deep into herself, striving to cum, thinking how wonderful he had been to her and how much she wanted to fuck him. In fact, it was imagining him cuming deep in her cunt that finally caused her orgasm. After that, she was able to drift off into a deep sleep with dreams of her and her wonderful son living the ideal life of master and slave.