Patricia's Son
They say that the bonds of kinship are stronger than steel, but I’ve always preferred silk rope. White, fat, slippery: it slid so easily across his wrists I could have tied him tighter, but I wanted him to feel every loop and twist, every tightening. The four-poster was hardly regulation furniture, but it would do for my son’s initiation. I had him faceup, splayed just enough to keep a constant, insidious tautness in the bindings. His skin already bore lurid roses from the first tightening, and his eyes flickered with a delirious blend of dread and need as I cinched the last knot.
"Comfortable?" I asked. My tongue flicked across my lower lip; I was more animal than mother, now. This had been on my mind all day, chasing away every attempt to be productive. Now that it was here, I was shaking so hard I wasn’t sure if I could do it. “Shaky” and “dominant” just don’t go together.
Chad choked a little around the harness-gag. It was a strapon in miniature designed to attach to a human face. A small dick-shaped protrusion fit into his mouth while the larger one stuck up from his face obscenely. It was an odd toy, but I liked the way it functioned. Chad would be completely unable to talk, have enough in his mouth to keep him from biting his tongue and still feel a little dirty, and of course, the seven inches rising from his face was perfect for my pleasure. It even had a loop to hold a bullet vibe right on my clit.
I checked everything one last time. Circulation was good. Range of motion was practically nil. I looked down into my son’s eyes and stroked his hair. “I love you, Chad,” I told him. “This is how we’re going to be with each other now. Be a good boy. There’s only one rule for you tonight. Don’t come in your mother’s mouth.”
He nodded his understanding and I kissed his forehead. Then I swung one leg over his face, practicality over ceremony. My knees bracketed his skull, and as I settled onto the ridged ridge of the stumpy dildo, the first shudder overtook him. I could have laughed at the predictability; the pulse at his throat triggered every sadistic instinct dormant in me since his birth.
The dildo was a good thickness, and I was slick. I let my weight bear me down on it. Chad coughed and slurped around the edges of the mouthpiece. Apparently, his end moved when mine did. The idea I was also fucking my son’s mouth was strangely arousing. Or perhaps it was the mood I was in. Either way, I enjoyed it, and I moaned as I ground against the humming vibe.
“Fuck,” I whispered the word and wondered how much my son could hear with his head held in place by my legs. It didn’t matter. I rocked experimentally. Pure heaven. I could come fast and hard on this thing. “No reason not to.”
I rode his face, not in the lazy, theatrical motion of casual lovers, but with the drive of a woman who knew precisely what she was due. The contact, cold at first, gave way to a near-violent friction as I ground my hips in metronome rhythm. I discovered that the odd knob-looking protrusion on the dildo rubbed perfectly against my g-spot.
“Fuck.” I braced myself so I could move faster. Harder. For the moment, my son didn’t exist. There was only the delicious feeling of a cock inside of me just big enough to do what I needed it to. My feet slid behind Chad’s head to hold him in place so I could use him.
Pure animal pleasure. I fucked his face with wild abandon. I didn’t care if he gagged on the dildo in his mouth. I just needed to come. Just needed to…
The orgasm came with a savagery that caught me off guard. One moment I teetered in anticipation, the next it detonated through my core, splitting me open from the inside out. It was the kind of climax that made my eyes roll up and my body crumple forward, hips stuttering and grinding down with desperate, finality-laced violence. My legs seized around Chad’s head, locking him in place as I rode out every wave, the dildo inside me and the vibe on my clit conspiring to strip me of every scrap of control. A sharp animal wail tore itself from my mouth and echoed in the four-poster’s canopied gloom. My hands, which had been steadying me on the headboard, lost all ...