Seducing Charlotte

No matter what you see on television, life on a cattle ranch is not glamorous. It’s dirty, smelly, and involves a lot of hard work. Sometimes it’s just downright disgusting, like it was at that exact moment. I was standing in a barn stall, behind a cow, with most of my arm shoved up inside through her vagina. No, it wasn’t like that, you perverts. The cow was in labor, and the calf was breech. My hand was currently gripping its back legs, and I was desperately trying to turn it.

The cow moaned as she strained. I felt her muscles tensing as she pushed with all her might. I could feel the calf moving, its tiny hooves slipping through my fingers as I tried to guide it into the correct position. Sweat dripped down my face, mixing with the dirt and grime that seemed to be a constant companion on the ranch. The smell of manure and hay filled my nostrils, but I barely noticed it anymore. Today was just another day in my life; the life of a ranch hand.

Finally, with a last, powerful push, I felt the calf move into the correct position. The cow gave a low, mournful bellow, and the calf slipped out, covered in a slick, bloody membrane. I quickly grabbed the little thing, turning it so its head was down, and gave it a sharp smack on the back. The calf gave out a weak cry, and I let out a sigh of relief. It was alive.

I placed the newborn on the straw, where it lay trembling, its legs splaying out in a comical manner. The cow turned her head, her big brown eyes meeting mine for a moment before she nudged her newborn with her nose. I smiled, watching as the mother and child bonded in that first, precious moment of life.

“Not bad for your first time,” said Jim from just outside the stall, where he was leaning on the top rail of the gate. “We only get a handful of breech every year, and we probably lose about a third of them by the time we figure out there’s a problem.” He was chewing on a piece of hay sticking out of his mouth.

I nodded at him as I used my arm up near the elbow to push my cowboy hat back so I could wipe my forehead with my sleeve. A little over a week ago, I assisted him with a breech where the calf came out dead. That was a significant loss to the ranch, potentially thousands of dollars. It was also a real gut punch to fight that hard to save a newborn and fail.

Unfortunately, the work wasn’t over yet. I reached for the afterbirth, a thick, slimy mass that hung from the cow’s body. With a grunt, I pulled it away, the remnants of the placenta falling to the ground in a wet, squelching heap. I was covered in it, the sticky substance clinging to my clothes, my arms, my face. It was disgusting, but it was a necessary part of the process. The cow needed to be cleaned up, and the calf needed to be checked over to ensure it was healthy.

As I worked, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. I had saved a life just now and would get to watch this calf grow. This was what I lived for out here, the cycle of life and death, the hard work and the rewards. It sure as Hell wasn’t glamorous, but it was real. As I stood there, covered in afterbirth, I knew I wouldn’t have it any other way. That was life on a cattle ranch, and it was now my life. My time growing up in Nashville and the year in the Army seemed like distant memories now, even though I had only been out here about a little over four months now.

After I scooped up all the mess into a barrel, I hauled it out of the stall while watching the new calf latch on and start suckling off the mama cow’s teat. He had a rough start, but I think he’s going to be alright. Hopefully he’ll grow up and do a lot of breeding for the ranch, much like I was currently doing myself.

I smiled as I thought back on the last sixteen weeks of living out here. Carrie, my younger sister, was now pregnant with our first child. On her small frame, her baby bump was just starting to show, now in her second trimester. If I thought our sex life was good before, her getting pregnant had kicked it into overdrive. She was ravenous for orgasms, and I was so tired my first few weeks out here I’d had to rely on Lila to take some of the pressure off me.

Lila was the young aunt of my best friend Jake, who owned 51% of this ranch and had brought me on as a potential partner after an injury ended my military career. Technically, she lived in the cottage behind the main house, but she’d spent every night so far in the bed with me and Carrie. The bed where the three of us had fucked so much I thought they were going to kill me from pure exhaustion.

Luckily, they enjoyed going down on each other as much as they loved riding my cock, so I was able to get some extra rest I desperately needed early on. I was finally starting to get used to the manual labor involved on the ranch, along with the sexual labor required of me by two gorgeous women, but it was still hard to roll out of bed and get going every morning. This was especially true when I woke up sandwiched between two naked women who both wanted access to my morning wood. Letting them have their way was a dangerous road to head down when there were two-hundred and fifty plus head of cattle waiting for me to attend to.

“Lila just texted you,” said Jim, holding up my phone I had left sitting on top of a post. He was Lila’s uncle, and I was pretty sure he had forgotten more about cattle than I would ever know. He and the rest of the family knew about the living arrangement I had with my sister and Lila, and they seemed to have no problems with it. Apparently, Lila’s parents were second cousins, and as long as I was pulling my weight and helping them make more money on the ranch, they tended to mind their own business.

Since I still had on my gloves and was pretty nasty, Jim unlocked the phone and held it up for me. “Package is in the kitchen,” was all the text said. I grinned, knowing exactly what she meant. It was finally time to put our plan into motion.

“You mind letting me go for a few hours?” I asked. “I’ve got an important visitor back at the house.”

“Naw, it’s fine,” he said, spitting off to the side. “Just take the rest of the day, but be ready to go early in the morning. You need to ride the fence over towards the northwest side.”

“Aight,” I said. I stripped off the gloves as I walked over towards a spigot. I pulled off my shirt and did my best to rinse the gunk off me with the hose. I had a clean t-shirt laying in the passenger seat, so I pulled that on before I slid into the driver’s seat and headed back to the house.

During the short drive, my mind played through the plan, which had mostly been cooked up by Carrie and Lila. When my sister told me she was pregnant, she asked me for something that I had readily agreed to. We’d lure our mom out here from Nashville, then seduce her and claim her for our own. At the time, I honestly didn’t think it would work, but Carrie won me over by showing me my mom’s diary entries over the years.

As it turns out, Mom had a lot of unfulfilled sexual fantasies, and some of them included me and Carrie, her own children. I think Carrie also wanted some revenge for what our parents had done to us last year, when they forced us apart and sent me off to the military. She still had an edge to her voice when we talked about Mom, and the many months since she’d seen her hadn’t seemed to dull that anger much.

If I’m being honest my dream was to fuck my mom doggy style while I watched her lick my sister’s pussy. Sometimes I would pretend Lila was my mom as I drove into her from behind while she sucked on Carrie’s pussy. It was erotic as all hell, but I knew the real thing would be so much better. My mom and my sister were both hot as fuck, and if sliding my cock inside Mom was half as hot as fucking Carrie, all this effort would be worth it.

My mom, Charlotte, had just turned forty years old, but she sure didn’t look it. She got pregnant with me when she was a seventeen-year-old Freshman at Tennessee. I wasn’t sure if it was still possible for me to put a baby on her like I had my sister, but I sure wanted to try. Mom was also rich enough all on her own that it would make our plans to improve and grow this cattle ranch much easier to accomplish, but first we had to get her out here.

Then, of course, she had to be seduced and convinced to stay. Since she was a very strong, beautiful, independent woman, I wasn’t sure it was possible, but the text Lila had sent me meant my mom was currently standing in our kitchen, waiting for me. Just getting her to come out here on our terms was quite an achievement.

“Well, here goes nothing,” I muttered as I pulled up to the end of the house. I grabbed my hat off the dash, adjusting it in the rearview mirror until I was happy with it. The face that looked back at me looked a bit older than my twenty-two years, but I guess that was only natural considering all I’d been through recently.

I had a bit of a five o’clock shadow, since it had been last night since I’d had a shave. The girls seemed to like the way it made me look, though. When I got home early yesterday evening after a long day, I’d gotten in the shower, and Carrie soon joined me. She scrubbed me down from head to toe, then of course I’d gotten a big erection. Before she could take care of that, she’d made me kneel in the shower while she rode my face, which was one of the things we’d done when we were first fooling around back in Nashville. Creaming my face always made her happy, but it also always makes her a lot hornier than she already was.

Carefully parting her lips with my fingers, I’d started stroking my tongue up between her folds, enjoying the taste I was so familiar with. Don’t get me wrong, I also loved eating Lila out, but Lila was not my sister. Shoving my tongue deep inside my younger sibling had to be one of the most erotic things I would ever do. Soon after I would add several fingers inside her, knowing exactly where to stroke to make her lose control. I brought her off as her cream was being washed off my face by the streaming water, leaving me a raging erection that needed taking care of.

When she finished shuddering and squeezing my face with her thighs, I stood up, turned her around, and shoved her against the tiled wall of the shower. Since I knew I’d already given her a nice orgasm, it wasn’t about making love to her; it was about a good, hard fucking. I made her bend over at the waist, and spread her feet to just the right distance so I could put the tip just inside her sweet little cunt.

“Whose pussy is this?” I asked in a low, dangerous voice.

“Oh God, it’s yours, big brother. You know it’s always yours,” she replied, gasping.

“Whose baby are you carrying?” I asked as I pushed about an inch inside her.

“It’s your baby, Mark. It’s my brother’s baby. Please, fuck me now… please.”

“How many babies are you going to have for me?” I continued to tease her as I pulled that inch back out, leaving just the very tip of my cock hovering inside those beautiful inner lips of hers. I liked to tease her by calling them her ‘butterfly lips’, because when they were spread open, they looked like little butterfly wings.

“As many as you want! You can breed me over and over! Just put it inside my pussy! Please!” she cried out.

“You’re goddamn right I will,” I said as I flexed to shove the entire length inside her. I bottomed out in one stroke, feeling the tight, incestuous walls of her cunt clench tight around my shaft. I gripped her hips and started pounding into her, giving my little slut sister exactly what she wanted. “I’m going to keep you filled up with babies. We’re definitely going to need a bigger house.”

“Oh God… yes!” Carrie moaned as her face slid up and down the tiled walls of the shower. I felt her trying to squeeze my cock, trying in vain to trap it inside her soaking wet passage that led straight to her womb. A womb that currently held our first child.

It didn’t take long before she started crying out, going through her first climax. I knew she wasn’t even close to being finished, so I kept going. I was tired after a long day on the ranch, but not too tired to fuck this perfect little pussy of my slut sister into oblivion.

Only after her third orgasm did she start begging for mercy. Until recently, I would probably ignore that and keep fucking her until she’d had half a dozen, but I didn’t want to be too rough on her with our baby growing inside. I continued just long enough until I felt that familiar pressure start building up at the base of my cock.

“I’m gonna cum, baby girl!” I yelled out, still stroking hard.

“Ooh… ohh… nnng… yes, big brother. Cum deep inside me. Fill your little sister up!”

We both had orgasms at the same time, which was typical for us. We’d been fucking almost non-stop for over four months now, ever since that weekend in the cabin back in Texas. She knew how to milk my cock with her pussy, making sure it stayed buried deep inside her. I knew I’d have no problem putting more babies in her, simply because we were so good together. Lila wanted me to put babies in her as well, but was still on the pill for now, waiting until Carrie was further along, and also to see how things turned out with my mom.

Once we settled down and finished our shower, she put me in a kitchen chair that pretty much stayed in the bathroom lately. It sat just in front of the counter that held the sinks, and Carrie placed a bowl of hot water there along with a folding straight razor and a towel. After she stropped the razor a few times on the length of leather, she straddled my lap and used a brush and a cup of cream to slather my face. Then she carefully shaved my face while I tried to sit still, resisting the urge to play with her titties, with those nipples hanging right there in my face.

Carrie shaved me at least every other night, while Lila did the others. Lila did it differently, since she liked to do it in the big tub, with me lying back against her with my head cradled between her large breasts. I was usually so tired from working on the ranch that I often fell asleep laying there with her arms and legs wrapped around me, but she didn’t mind.

Honestly, I was afraid there would end up being some jealousy between Carrie and Lila, since they both seemed insatiable in their desire to take my cock. There had never been a hint of any problems, though. The two women seemed to love each other as much or more than they loved me. When I left each morning to head out to work on the ranch, they were often still snuggled together in the bed, whispering and giggling to each other, completely ignoring me.

On Sunday evenings, it was my turn to trim Carrie and Lila’s pussy hair. I called it Sunday Pussy Maintenance, and it was definitely one of the highlights of my week. Carrie kept just a nice landing strip above her pussy, while Lila let her pubes grow wild, but did like them trimmed enough not to peek out from her panties, if she was even wearing any, of course.

After having them soak in the tub, with lukewarm water for Carrie, I’d put one of them up on the clear area of the counter with their heels on the edge, spread wide. That gave me easy access to pull the chair up close, where I would carefully lather them up and scrape away the new growth with the straight razor.

The first time I’d used the razor; I was honestly nervous as all fuck. It’s stressful taking a blade like that and scraping it down the exposed pussy lips of someone you love. I could tell Carrie was nervous that first time as well, but she bit her lip and looked down at me with love and trust in her eyes. I took a deep breath and started doing what needed to be done.

Taking almost half an hour to finish both, after being carefully shaved, each pussy required a tongue test afterwards. I was in love with both women, and all the careful, detailed attention to their labia as I shaved them made them both so horny they would team up and practically devour me in the bed afterwards. I’d make them both cum several times before I’d unload inside one of their pussies, and they still usually wound up locked in a sixty-nine as I rolled over and passed out. I’d often fall asleep watching one of my women licking the cream pie out of the other.

Good lord, I thought, back in the truck and still staring at myself in the mirror. What if you pull this off and have to satisfy three women? You’re going to fuck yourself in an early grave. I shook my head, then opened the door of the truck and stepped out.

“Yeah, but what a way to go,” I said with a chuckle as I walked across the gravel towards the house.

I waited patiently in the kitchen of the farmhouse, having been left there several minutes ago by the dark-haired woman who I only knew as ‘Lila’. She reminded me a little of the native woman that was the doctor’s assistant on that old show Northern Exposure, but she was much taller and prettier. I felt like I was being appraised each time she looked at me. Like she was wondering if I would measure up to some mysterious criteria she was using to judge me with.

All I really wanted was to see my children. I had sent Mark away over a year away in a fit of rage after my husband Frank and I walked in on them about to have sex. Mark was lying on top of his sister, who was urging him to put it in her and make a baby. Then a little over five months ago, Carrie emptied out her bank accounts that also had my name on them and disappeared. I knew Mark had gotten out of physical therapy not long after that out in Texas, and I felt so guilty that I had not gone to see him. He’s my baby boy, and I should have been there for him.

I was so angry with both of them at the time, and I knew now that I had overreacted. Sometimes my temper overwhelms me, but that was the first time I had completely lost it with my children. It seemed simply insane to me that they were about to try to make a baby, all based on some bullshit DNA test that said they weren’t really siblings. My rage had made me lose control, and lose my children, but now I was here, standing in this kitchen after weeks of negotiating the terms of visiting them out here in this godforsaken corner of a flyover state.

Okay, so I’m not being completely honest. For all this time, every night when I tried to go to sleep, all I could see in my mind was my son’s cock, about to enter his sister’s kitty inside that bedroom back in Nashville. The image of that long, thick, beautiful shaft was burned into my memory, and the only thing that let me get any sleep after seeing it was to touch myself while I imagined it was thrusting into me. I had no idea how being out here would help that situation, but the odds of having any type of resolution seemed to be greater in Oklahoma than back at home.

Standing there impatiently, I examined the kitchen again. It was at one end of this old ranch style house, much like the ones in the suburbs of Nashville where I grew up. The kitchen was clean, but dated. The appliances looked like they were at least twenty years old. Taking a step closer to the refrigerator, I examined all the stuff that was on the front, pinned with various magnets. There was a shopping list, a list of phone numbers with names like ‘Uncle Jim’ and ‘Aunt Susan’ on it. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen a list of phone numbers. How quaint.

There were several strips of black and white images from a photo booth, stacked on top of each other with a goofy banana magnet holding them in place. The first showed Mark, Carrie, and Lila all shoved together in the booth, making silly faces at the camera. I stared at Lila in the photo, using this time to study her face without needing to stare at her in person.

The face I saw was young, maybe in her mid to late twenties, but she carried herself with a knowing confidence that seemed far beyond her years. Her Native American heritage was written in the striking, strong angles of her face and the high, elegant cheekbones, giving her a timeless, almost regal beauty. Her dark, almond-shaped eyes held a spark of mischief that I found incredibly attractive, a stark contrast to the tired, calculated expressions I was used to seeing in my world. She was raw and genuine, and I felt a pull toward her that was both unsettling and undeniable.

I moved that one to the side and the one under it showed just Carrie and Mark laughing. I froze when I looked at the last photo, which was them engaged in a deep kiss. Their eyes were closed and it looked like Carrie was melting into her brother. It wasn’t possible, was it? They couldn’t possibly be truly in love. My thoughts were about to get carried away in anger about my daughter seducing and trapping my son, but I felt enough guilt to bring me back. If I’m being honest again, part of me wished it was me in that picture instead of Carrie, feeling Mark’s lips on mine, letting his hands roam all over my body.

Still, that was all just fantasy. I agreed to come out here; to bumfuck Oklahoma with all their ridiculous conditions so I could put a stop to this nonsense. They went through a lot of trouble to keep it secret where here was, but I paid a lot of money to investigators to find them. If Carrie really was pregnant, it was not too late to have it terminated. Then I could convince them both to come home so we could work to put this behind us. I smiled, relaxed in the knowledge that I always got my way, one way or another. My law partners didn’t nickname me ‘The Stone-Cold Killer’ for nothing, now, did they?

I’m not sure how long I stood there in that kitchen; it may have been twenty minutes. I was about to become impatient enough to start calling out when I heard tires crunching on the gravel outside at the other end of the house. A few moments later I heard a screen door open and slam shut somewhere deeper in the house. That was followed by the sound of heavy, booted steps echoing down the hall as they approached the kitchen.

Staring hard at the doorway in anticipation, when I saw who it was, one hand flew up to cover the surprised gasp I let out. It was my son, Mark! It had been almost a year since I had last seen him. He was wearing blue jeans along with a wide leather belt with a large buckle on the front. The jeans covered most of his pointed cowboy boots. He also had on grimy white t-shirt and an honest to God real cowboy hat.

“Mark,” I called out, but he didn’t acknowledge me. Instead, he stepped over to a separate white porcelain sink that was mounted on the wall near the end of the counter. He pulled off his hat and hung it on a hook above that seemed to be placed there for that reason. Then he hauled off his t-shirt in that strange way that men do it, grabbing it by the back of the collar and pulling it over his head. He laid it across the side of the sink.

Seen from behind, my son’s upper body had much more muscle definition than I remembered. His upper arms seemed much bigger, and his shoulders sloped down from his neck, bulging up and making the classic V-shape. Good God! This was not my boy anymore; this was a man. I felt a shock running though me, starting at the top of my slit and racing up my groin into my spine. My entire body gave a shiver, and I knew the gusset of my panties was currently soaked.

As I continued to stare at his back, Mark turned on the water in the sink then splashed some on his face then up and down his arms. He grabbed a small towel off a rack where it hung by the sink, then turned to face me as he dried himself off. He had still not made eye contact.

Now that I could see his front, I marveled even more at his muscled chest. His pecs were so defined and while he didn’t come across as a body builder, he definitely looked like a young man that was not afraid of work or lifting heavy things. As he finished drying himself, he looked up at me then craned his head around, making his neck pop a few times. Finally, he looked me in the eyes with a small smile.

“Hello, Mother.”

I felt cheeks start to blush, and that wet spot in my panties definitely got a bit larger. Without even realizing what I was doing, I pressed one hand down on my dress, directly above my mound as another shiver ran through me.

Oh fuck, what have I gotten myself into? I can’t believe my own son is making me feel this way.

I tried desperately to clear my naughty thoughts, taking a deep breath through my nose and letting it out slowly through my mouth. “Mark,” I said finally. “I’m so happy to see you. You look… wonderful.” I took a few steps towards him, and he didn’t move or raise his arms to stop me. He just stood there with that calm smile on his face.

I gave him a quick peck on the cheek while I squeezed his arm just below the shoulder. He flexed it while I was doing that, and I gave out a small gasp at how hard his muscles were. Mark made no effort to hug me back, and when I stepped back, he still had the same expression on his face.

“Do you hate me, Mark?” I asked, tears beginning to well in my eyes as I looked up at him. “You won’t even give me a hug?”

His smile got slightly bigger. “Of course I will, Mother,” then he stepped forward and put his arms around me, using one hand to pull my head sideways onto his chest. A chest I couldn’t help but notice was also hard with muscles. The other hand was on the small of my back, but I swear it brushed across the top of my left ass cheek, ever so briefly.

Letting me go, he stepped back and moved over to the refrigerator, opening it to pull out a pitcher. He raised it towards me and asked, “would you like a glass of sweet tea?”

Normally, I don’t drink sweet tea, but I nodded, still admiring the muscles on my son’s torso. He set the pitcher down on the counter and reached into a cabinet to bring out two tall glasses. He filled each then replaced the pitcher in the fridge before he moved over to the round table and set them down.

Mark pulled out one of the chairs and the table and indicated that I should have a seat. As I sat down, he gently pushed the chair in for me, then stroked his hand along my shoulder as he moved to have a seat on the other side of the table. I reached out to take the glass near me so I could take a sip, trying to cover how nervous I was at the moment. Should I ask him to put on a shirt? Did I really want him to?

“How was the ride here? Did you have a good trip?” he asked as he sat down.

“Yes, it was fine,” I replied in a quiet voice.

“I know Lila treated you well. She’s the best.” He was looking right at my eyes, but my own vision kept slipping down to his chest, taking in the curves of his pecs, and the way the hair swirled around his nipples. Jesus… I was staring at my son’s nipples, thinking such naughty thoughts. Once again, my kitty was betraying me, making me think of things no mother should ever think of.

“Who is Lila, Mark?” I asked, then took another sip of tea.

He hesitated for a moment, drumming his fingers a few times on the table. “Lila is a very complicated woman. Her family owns this ranch, collectively, and her nephew Jake owns 51% of it after his father passed away last year. Jake is my best friend from Infantry school, and he’s offered to let Carrie and I live here while I learn how to run cattle.”

“But who is she, really?” I asked, setting the glass down on the table. There was no coaster, which I found slightly disturbing, especially with a wooden table.

“Lila is an important part of my life, and Carrie’s as well,” he said. “We have a very strong relationship with her, and she’s planning to act as Carrie’s doula.”

There we were, at the crux of the entire situation. My daughter was pregnant, and my son was the father. Oh, God, please let my negotiating skills work to bring this to a good outcome. My reputation and career were too important to let an incest baby ruin it all. I leaned forward and put one hand flat on the table.

“Mark… son, please understand how serious this situation is. What you and your sister are doing is immoral… and illegal. I’m sorry I got so angry last year. I overreacted, I know, but you can’t have sex with your sister, and you definitely can’t make a baby with her. It’s just so… wrong. Can’t you see that?”

For a few moments, he just looked at me, then he smirked. “Illegal? Weren’t you seventeen years old and Dad twenty when you got pregnant with me? That’s underage sex, Mother, which I also believe is illegal, or at the very least immoral. Carrie and I are both adults, and it’s nobody’s business what we do in private.”

I leaned forward more and took his hand between mine. “Yes, Mark, but getting pregnant with your brother’s baby is a serious felony… for both of you. You could spend years in prison then have to register as sex offenders. I know you love each other, you always have, but the risk is just not worth it. Please come back to Nashville with me and we can take care of all of this. I looked up a clinic in Illinois that will terminate the pregnancy and then no one ever has to know.”

Mark snatched his hand back and slapped it hard on the table, nearly making one of the glasses tip over. “Listen to me, Mother,” he said, his voice low and angry. “No one is going to terminate our pregnancy. That baby was made in love and it will be loved going forward, along with all the brothers and sisters it will have.”

I put my hand up to my mouth, trying to cover my shock. “Brothers and sisters?” I stammered out. “Oh, Mark. You can’t do that. It… it just isn’t right.”

“We already have,” he replied, still glaring at me. “Are you going to turn us in? Because no one out here is,” he said as he waved his hand around towards the outside. “They love us and respect us here, and they know that our babies will be loved and cared for. They already treat us like family. If you truly want your children to go to prison then we can put you back on the plane to Nashville this afternoon so you can make the necessary calls. Tell me right now what it will be.”

With tears in my eyes, I stared at my son for several moments. Finally, I came to a decision. I had already lost him once, and I was not willing to do so again. He had obviously been seduced and was under the spell of his sister and that Lila woman. I had no idea my daughter was such a wicked Jezebel, but if they cut me off again then there was no way I could influence the outcome. I had no choice but to stay here, submitting to their conditions for now.

“Please, Mark. Don’t send me away. I love you and I only want what is best, you have to know that.”

He gave me such a cold look that I shivered involuntarily. “I used to know that,” he said. “I used to know without even thinking about it how much my mom loved me and cared about me and Carrie. Now, I’m not sure at all. You’re going to have to prove it to us. Can you do that? Do you agree to try?”

“Yes, Mark,” I replied. I found it hard to keep eye contact with him, so I looked down at my lap. I reached out to pick up the glass for another sip, but my hand was shaking so hard I pulled it back and put in my lap instead, grasping it with the other.

Mark reached into his front pocket and pulled out his phone, swiping to unlock it. After a moment, he held it up, pointing the camera at me. “I want you to repeat after me,” he said as he clicked a button to start recording.

“I… Charlotte Thompson, do swear to obey the instructions given to me by my son Mark, my daughter Carrie, and anyone else they designate as long as I remain here.”

I hesitated. I knew this wouldn’t really be legally binding on me. I wasn’t truly being coerced, but I was being pressured enough to bring into doubt anything I said at the moment. Legally it wouldn’t have any effect if I broke my word, but it would likely end any chance I had at maintaining a relationship with my children. Taking a deep breath, I made yet another fateful decision.

“I, Charlotte Thompson, do swear to obey the instructions given to me by my son Mark, my daughter Carrie, and anyone else they designate as long as I remain here.”

Mark smiled and pushed the button to stop recording. “I’ll be right back,” he said as he stood and walked out of the kitchen down a hallway. He soon returned and had the bag with my phone in it. Sitting back down, he unzipped it and pulled my phone out, pressing the button to turn it back on. “What’s your PIN, please?”

There was silence as he looked down at the screen as the phone started up. Finally, he looked up at me and said in low, stern voice, “What is your PIN, Mother? You agreed to all of this.”

Still not answering Mark, I sat there and stared at the phone, while in my mind I replayed the text messages I’d had with Carrie in the weeks before I flew out here. When she left Nashville, she’d deactivated the phone that was on our family plan, but out of the blue she sent me a text message last month that simply said, “This is your daughter. Would you like to start over?”

I hadn’t replied until the next day, agonizing over what I would say and how I should respond. The reply I finally sent back was, “How do I know this is Carrie?”

The only thing she’d sent back was a selfie of her staring into the camera, holding up a pregnancy test stick that clearly showed as positive. Letting out a shriek, I had dropped the phone, sitting there in my car in our driveway. It slid under the seat and I had to get out of the car to fish it out, then sat back down, nearly hyperventilating.

We’d exchanged a flurry of messages after that; all centered around their demands about how I could come out to meet them. I had to fly alone to the airport in Texas. I had to give up my phone and agree to no contact with anyone back home for at least a month, even my husband Frank. I had to agree to obey ever request given to me, no matter how strange. That’s how I ended lying in the floorboard of the black SUV, blindfolded and cuffed for hours as I was driven here. All that came from Carrie, my daughter who was obviously still angry with me.

That little slut, I’d thought, consumed with anger about how she had seduced and led her older brother astray. Mark would have never done something like this on his own; he was too meek and submissive. Carrie had always been the more willful of my two children. Always being a brat and getting her way with her father and her brother. I mean, she was the one who got that damned DNA test from some shady ass company in the first place.

With Mark still looking at me expectantly, I took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Losing my temper here would not be to my advantage. I needed to see what the full situation was, then I could start moving things toward my goal of bringing my children out of whatever hellhole of a state we were currently in.

“It’s 7342,” I said, looking down at my hands again. “Why can’t I have my phone, Mark?”

“Because we don’t trust you,” he said as he punched in the PIN and started looking through my phone. After a minute or so, he turned the phone off and put it back in the special bag, zipping it up and setting it off to the side on the table. He stood up, then reached out to take my hand.

“Why don’t I show you your room, then we can discuss things a little more. Bring your tea.”

Holding on to his hand, I picked up the glass of tea with the other as he led me down the same hallway he had just come back from.

“This house was built in the 1950’s,” he said as we entered the passage. “It hadn’t been lived in for a while when we moved in, but Jake’s whole family showed up and got it all whipped into shape in less than a week. They even completely remodeled the master bath for us.”

He pointed at a door to my right. “That’s the master bedroom,” he said. “For an older house it has a really nice bathroom, now. Carrie loves the big claw-footed tub, but she can’t really use it right now, of course.”

As we kept walking, he pointed at a second door to the left. “That’s one of the guest bedrooms, but we’re going to turn it into the nursery in a few months. There’s another bedroom back towards the carport, so we should have enough room until we get past three kids.”

My stomach turned once again at the mention of children. Multiple children, even. My God, they were planning on having a large family together. This was insane. All my grandchildren would be… incest babies! A quick wave of dizziness passed over me, but I managed to hold it together. I gripped Mark’s hand tighter to help maintain control and avoid having a panic attack.

“Now this,” he said as he stopped near the end of the hall at another door, “will be your room.” He pushed the door open and led me inside. It was at the corner of the house on the backside, so there were windows on two of the walls. Both were cracked open a little less than a foot, with an electric fan on a post standing next to one. There was a bed in one corner with a nightstand beside it. In the opposite corner from the bed stood an old-style writing desk and chair with a shelf above it, lined with an array of books.

To my left there was a large wardrobe on the left side of the window, and a short chest of drawers with a mirror on top to the right of it. My suitcase was on the floor in front of the window, its modern sleek form looking out of place in this rustic bedroom. As I found out later, a door next to the wardrobe led to a closet bathroom, with no windows and barely enough room for the commode and a hand sink. I’m pretty sure it had just been tacked on to the side of the house at some point after it was built. The whole house reminded me of when I used to go visit my grandmother on her farm down in Columbia, Tennessee when I was a little girl.

Walking over to the desk, I set my glass of tea down on it, once again noting the lack of a coaster. It was quite obvious that this home was being run by someone very young, and lacked the sophistication a more experienced woman would bring to it. Just another reason Carrie wasn’t ready to be an adult yet, much less a mother.

With no warning, I jumped a little when Mark stepped over and took me by the hand. He led me over to the bed and had me sit on the edge. Then he moved the chair over in front of me, taking a seat. He pulled one of my feet up in his lap, then cupped his hands around the calf muscle, moving his hands up and down the length of it while squeezing at the same time. His grip felt much firmer than I remembered, and despite myself, I gave out a small hum of pleasure.

“I’d forgotten how soft and silky your hose is,” he said with a smile, continuing to massage my calf. “Have you missed my foot rubs?”

Looking down at him, I nodded without saying anything. It was hard to focus on anything except his bare arms, shoulders, and chest. I was fascinated by the way the muscles flexed and rippled as he firmly gripped my calf, kneading out all the tightness and tension. Then he undid the clasp on the strap around my ankle and slipped off my shoe, letting it drop to the floor.

Mark has been rubbing my feet since he was a young teenager. I’d always enjoyed it, since it was something my husband Frank never wanted to do. My son has always been a people pleaser though, especially for me, so he’d never complained when I asked him to do this for me. This time he did it without me asking, which didn’t happen often.

Once the shoe dropped to the floor, he moved his hands down my calf, pausing briefly at my ankle, before he gripped my heel firmly. He moved down the side of my foot, firmly squeezing the flesh between his thumbs and forefingers until he reached my toes. It felt so damn good, and I gave out another low hum of approval, not even realizing what I was doing.

From all the foot rubs he’d given me in the past; I knew what was coming next and I was surely looking forward to it. Starting with my pinky toe, he gripped it with the two fingers and squeezed and rolled it between them, causing the joints to pop. He also pushed the digit back towards my leg, stretching the tendons as he continued to knead and press into the flesh and work the joints.

After several minutes, he moved on to the next toe, then the next. He must have spent at least five minutes just on the toes of that one foot. That’s why I loved his foot rubs so much, because he took his time and enjoyed it himself as much as I did. Sometimes he would go back and rub more than one toe at a time, and as he finished up with the toes on that foot, he used both hands to thoroughly manipulate all of them at once.

“Oh Mark, that feels so good, baby,” I said, giving him my best smile.

“I have to admit, I’ve missed doing this for you,” he said back with a smile of his own.

Now he was set to work on the sole of my foot. When the shoe dropped off, he started with the ball, right below the toes. Gripping the sides with his four fingers, he dug his thumbs into the padded flesh, eliciting yet another hum of satisfaction from me. His grip was so strong I almost found it uncomfortable, but I didn’t want to say anything. Instead, I focused on watching the muscles in his arms and chest move, while he was looking down at my foot.

Unlike all the previous foot rubs in years past, gazing at his physique was making me feel queasy inside, and the slit of my kitty was itchy and likely leaking again. Why was I feeling like this? Was it because I knew my children were already committing unspeakable acts with each other? My thoughts kept slipping, making me wonder what it would be like to run my hands all over Mark’s chest and shoulders, then down to squeeze his powerful looking arms. I had no doubt he was strong enough to completely overpower me and bend me to his will. Deep down, some part of me wished he would.

Mark looked up and caught me staring, and a flush ran up my body and across my face. “Are you blushing, Mother?” he asked with a smile. “Why is that?”

“Don’t tease me, Mark. And why are you calling me Mother now? You’ve always called me Mom… at least since you were ten.”

He continued to work the ball of my foot over and didn’t say anything for a few moments. Finally, he looked me right in the eye, and his expression was not kind. “Because my Mom sent me away from the only home I’d ever known in a fit of rage. My Mom thinks she knows what is best for me and Carrie, and to be perfectly honest we’re not sure if we can ever trust my Mom again. So, for now, I will call you Mother.”

Tears welled up in my eyes. I pushed my chin down into my chest, trying to hide them, but then one rolled down my cheek. I wiped it away with my fingers, then sniffed, about to break down completely in tears. “I’ve only ever done anything because I love you, Mark. You have to know that.”

“I’m not so sure about that, Mother,” Mark replied. “After all, we were raised by a governess and au pairs until we were in grade school, so you could go back and finish your degree and law school. Then we got shipped off every summer to long camps so you could work even more. Carrie and I learned to take care of ourselves at a very young age.”

That made me really start crying, with the tears streaming down both my cheeks. It was true, I had put my career first over raising my children. I had achieved so much, though. Surely, they could see that, couldn’t they? Mark let go of my foot and leaned forward, grabbing my hand to pull me towards him. He gripped my chin with his hand, and used it to force my face up, so I was looking directly into his eyes.

“No one was there to kiss our tears away,” he said as he leaned even closer and kissed me on each cheek, capturing the tears with his lips. Then my son did something totally unexpected. He pulled my chin up a little further and planted a soft, tender kiss directly on my lips. To this day, I have no idea why I let that kiss continue. Why I gently kissed him back as I exhaled slightly. It only lasted a moment, but that moment is something I will never forget. That exact moment in time was the beginning of the end for the old Charlotte Thompson.

As the kiss ended and he pulled his head back, Mark looked me directly in the eyes again and smirked. Then he leaned back and picked up my foot again, laying the back of the heel on his knee and immediately started digging his thumbs into the arch. It was pain and pleasure at the same time, with his strong hands really digging in and releasing all the tension in the tendons running along the bottom of my foot. My mind was still swirling, thinking about the kiss that had just ended, and this time I gave out a moan of pleasure instead of a hum. That made my son smirk once again. Smart ass.

Soon, he was done with that foot, and he lifted the other one onto his lap to start in on it as well. His grip didn’t get any weaker as he proceeded to work that foot over just as much as he had the other. My gaze grew bolder as he went along, and I spent the time watching the movements of his bare upper body as I leaned back on my elbows and smiled.

When he was done, he dropped the foot and stood up as he reached for my hand. When I was standing in front of him, he leaned in very close and gave me a kiss on my left cheek. Then he moved over and did the same on the opposite side. I stood there, mesmerized, as he pulled his head back until our faces were only inches apart. He held my gaze with his own, each of us taking a few breaths as he slowly, oh so slowly, leaned in as if to kiss me on the lips again. I closed my eyes, expecting to feel the touch of his lips on mine, but then he took half a step back and squatted down next to my legs.

“Pull your skirt up some, Mother,” he said to me in a quiet voice. I was confused, but reached down to either side of the garment and pulled it about half way up my thighs, exposing the top of my hose where the garters attached. Mark put both hands around my left leg, right at the knee, the slid them both up my thigh, stopping just before he reached the fabric of the bikini panties I was wearing.

Oh fuck! I thought as my knees nearly buckled. What is he doing to me? I felt a shiver run up and down my legs, which Mark had to have felt. He rubbed and squeezed my thighs and glutes a few times, then I felt him start detaching the garters that held up my thigh high hose, both on the front and back.

“Mark,” I started to say, but he made a shushing noise, which made me stop. He moved his big, strong hands over to my other leg and repeated the process, leaving the garters hanging down on both legs. I wasn’t naked by any means, but I definitely felt exposed, especially while standing directly next to my own son.

He stood up, then took my hands and had me sit back down on the bed with my dress still pulled up to the middle of my thighs. As he returned to his seat in the chair, starting at my foot, he slowly massaged up my leg, using both hands to firmly squeeze and knead the muscles again. Finally, he grabbed the top of the hose, then slowly slid them down my thigh until the top reached my knee. With neither of us saying anything, I lifted my lower leg up until he was able to slide the garment completely off.

Still saying nothing, Mark moved over to my right leg and repeated the process. I was becoming intensely uncomfortable with the amount of close contact, especially with my son sitting directly in front of me with no shirt on. At the same time, my old nemesis, my wanton, shameless kitty, was causing me to have intense, shameful feelings of lust. I knew I should be putting a stop to this, but I was completely unable to find the willpower to do so.

Once the other hose was off, Mark said, “Roll over,” in a quiet voice. Still unable to believe I was going along with all of this, I complied. I rolled over on my stomach and he said, “turn around and lay your head on the pillow. It will be more comfortable.”

“Mark, what are you…” I began to ask, but he shushed me once again. He stood up and sat down on the bed, lifting my legs up so he could lay them across his lap, with my thighs on top of his. My mind was screaming at me to stop this, but my kitty ruthlessly overruled it. He reached to his right and grabbed both my calves at the same time, massaging and squeezing them. Oh damn, it felt so good.

“Your hose are nice, but your bare legs feel even better,” he said quietly. “You know I’ve wanted to massage the rest of your legs for years, don’t you?”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I didn’t say anything. I kept my eyes closed with my head laying sideways on the pillow, just trying to enjoy the feel of his strong hands on my body. Despite that, I still jerked when his hands went past the back of my knees and started firmly rubbing and squeezing the lower part of my hamstrings. That was much further up than he had ever ventured before, but once again I found myself with no ability to ask him to stop. I heard him chuckle, then he kept going up, reaching the bottom of my glutes.

Stop him! You have to stop him! my mind scre