I rewrote this as well as Part I because it initially seemed like a highly offensive rape story. Again, apologies that I didn't get the right point across last time.
Again, this is consensual sex. I added a plot element to ensure this was clear, and that little element led to the creation of a nice little epilogue that wraps things up nicely. Feedback and criticism welcome. Especially about the Epilogue, which I thought was cool but could have been better written. If you don't have time to read all of this, can you give me a comment on the epilogue, know there are alot of good writers out there.
I was shocked, Marcus continuing to wiggle the head of his penis inside me, as he lay behind me naked, clutching my body against his, my hands and ankles tied. He held his strong hand on my hip to keep me from wiggling so his penis would fall out. He continued stroking my breasts with his other hand.
"Marcus, I promised after you spanked me, I promised I would stop spending so much, so just stop, please!"
He said, "Mother, I told you we had more to talk about, and this doesn't have to do with money."
"What, what! I just want this to stop! Marcus, don't!" I started to cry.
"Mother, I understand this may seem awkward to you now, and you know I would never do anything to violate you, so let's try this. You know what a 'safe word'" is?"
"Well Mother, when two people are engaged in unconventional sex, releasing their inhibitions, sometimes part of the fun is protesting and begging for the other to stop, but you want to make sure that the protesting is pretend. If the other person, and I guess in this case that is you, is not enjoying it anymore, then you can use the safe word and I know to stop. I suggest 'Red', like a red light. Just say 'Red' and I'll stop, untie you, and this is over, at anytime. You can trust me that I will not violate the safe word. So, 'Red', agreed?"
I'd never heard of such a thing, but agreed, if it would get me out of this. "Yes, agreed, 'Red'. Now stop it.!"
He replied, "All you have to say is 'Red', I don't hear words like stop now." But I couldn't bring myself to say it, and didn't know why. "You're silence gives me the message, now let's continue."
"Mother, you've been spanking me all my life, but something changed after I turned 16. Explain that to me."
"What, what changed? Nothing changed. I was being a good mother, disciplining you when needed. That's what made you the man you are."
"Oh, but Mother, something was different. When I was younger, you used to take me over your knee and spank me over my pants, clothed, remember? But when I became a man, you didn't do that anymore. Tell me how you started to spank me then."
I realized now what he was talking about. I said, very hesitant, "Well, I started making you undress."
"Yes", he replied, "you forced me to strip naked, and what else?"
"I would make you stand in front of the mirror. I just thought it was a better way to teach you, I was doing it for your own good."
"Yes, stripped naked in front of the mirror in your bedroom. You would make me bend over, put my hands on my knees, and then you would spank me. Curious, because I was never much trouble anyway, in fact a good kid, but you decided to take my spankings to this level? Which psychology book did you get that from. One that said, 'When your children become adults, keep spanking them, but spank them bare and make them watch?' Please Mother!"
"I, I, only wanted what's best for you."
During this interrogation, he continued to rotate the head of his penis inside me, and massage my breasts. I realized this was starting to get me more wet than even the even spanking had, and my nipples had already been erect for a while. I prayed to God he didn't notice. My genuine arousal was tempered by the reminder that this was my son, and this was wrong, and I should not like it. I felt deeply ashamed that I was enjoying it.
"Well, Mother, you used to spank me maybe once a month, but once I was an adult that increased to 3 or 4 times a week. You seemed to find any excuse to spank me! And you kept doing this up until I was 21, got a job and moved out."
"I, I already told you.."
Suddenly, he thrust his penis all the way inside me, jamming his hips against my bare ass in the process.
I shouted, "Marcus, no! No!", I started struggling to shift my body around so he would fall out, but he was holding me down too strongly.
"You don't need to fight like this, Mother, just say 'Red'"
Again, something inside me didn't want him to stop. I couldn't say that one word, even though I thought I wanted to.
"Don't you think I didn't notice, Mother, that your forced me to look at myself getting spanked, I could see your face in the mirror? I could see something, a little smirk, some sort of satisfaction. You also took your time between smacks. But you would just look me up and down, enjoying yourself. I think you made me undress because you liked looking at me naked. I think it turned you on."
"What!?" I screamed, continuing to struggle, "How dare you speak to Mother that way! How dare you! How could I think such a thing! Marcus, stop this, this is wrong, it's a sin!"
He did not respond. He slowly slid his penis out, so again it was just the head inside me. I moaned as he partially extracted it. But at this point I stopped writhing. He stayed silent for a moment, and then moved the hand that had been holding down my hips, slid his finger down my reddened buttocks, between my legs, and stuck it inside me.
I howled, "Marcus, do not touch Mother that way, Marcus, have you gone mad?"
"If you don't like it Mother, just say 'Red'. It really is that simple." Again, silence from me.
He removed his finger and brought it up to his face and sniffed, saying, "You're pretty wet down there Mother? I think you are not only enjoying this, but you are probably reminiscing on memories of those days, remembering fondly ordering me to undress and spanking me naked."
I had a moment of clarity there, though. I never consciously thought about it, but I do remember that as he came of age, he became a very attractive, ideal young man. He was smart and handsome, and he had gone from 98-pound weakling to star athlete. I do remember looking at him and admiring his fine form. I did not consciously think that I was enjoying his undressed spankings, but I realized I did try to find reasons to spank him whenever I could.
And I realized now that I did get a thrill, that I tried to suppress, watching him take off his clothes, and I could look at his firm bottom and legs, and also look at his washboard abdominals, his nice rounded shoulders, muscular chest in the mirror! Would I also look at his manhood swinging between his legs?, That was too much for me to handle now. Again, I found myself being aroused just by the memory, and I felt ashamed and shouted out:
"No, I am NOT enjoying this, Marcus! This is a sin! Stop! Now! Please!" With the please, my tone had changed from attempted authority to begging.
He suddenly thrust himself deep inside me again. I just kept moaning and protesting for him to stop. This time, he would thrust himself in forcefully, pounding against me, he would stay deep inside me for several seconds, then withdraw very slowly, then thrust again.
"Oh, please stop." I moaned.
"Just say 'Red'. Hmm, it's not that hard to pronounce. Anytime, and I will stop. Something else I need to get clear with you Mother." He continued his hard thrusting and slow withdrawal.
"Mother, every time I had a girlfriend, or was just dating, you would find some way to drive her away, you would act all psychotic when I got a new girl, even a casual acquaintance. Why was that, they were nice girls."
I replied, at this point I was panting, my face sweating, "I just wanted to protect you. There are alot of bad people out there. Marcus, you know I only do what's best for you!"
Continuing to thrust and withdraw in his rhythm, he said, "Mother, you were jealous."
This also struck me, I really was insanely jealous of any woman who was with my beautiful boy. It occurred to me that, every time I though of him with some girl, I would get a little crazy. I even remember masturbating pretending I was one of his girlfriends. But then I would wake up to the reality that he was my son and I could never have him. Just thinking that I masturbated thinking of my son made me blush red. Those two things, two truths he just reminded me of got my mind in a torrent. Was I really so sexually attracted to my own son, but frustrated that it could never be consummated, became obsessive, possessive with him?
"Marcus, the things you're saying today, this is wrong, maybe you need therapy..."
"Oh, Mother, you say such silly things." He took his hand and slid it down my stomach, and he began to stroke my clitoris.
"Marcus, NO, you shouldn't touch your Mother there! Stop!" I started flailing again, in vain trying to escape. But I felt the orgasm coming physically, even though I tried to suppress any pleasure I was getting from this. As he continued his thrusting with his penis, stroking me, rubbing my breasts, I felt the orgasm coming on. Feeling his muscular body pressed against my back....
I came like a tidal wave, I was just lost as I climaxed, shouting, "Oh, God, Oh, God....Marcus, stop, Oh, God...!!"
It seemed to last an hour, and when it was done, I was exhausted, physically as well as emotionally. I can't believe I had an orgasm in front of my son. I was too exhausted to ponder the fact that my son had caused my orgasm. He kissed me tenderly on the neck.
"Mother, this is something you've wanted for a long time, you've just not known how to handle it. I won't think ill of you."
"What are you talking about? Stop"
"Mother, didn't that feel good for you? But I'm not done yet, if you want the best for me, keep still."
Of course I kept still I was tied up. He pulled his still hard penis from inside me. He pulled away, and pushed me down flat on my back.
"Marcus, what are you doing?" I sighed, exhausted. My previous howls of protest had turned into sighs and moans.
He straddles my chest, lay his still erect between my breasts. He takes he hands and pushes my breasts together and starts sliding back and forth.
"Look at me Mother, while I do this."
In my exhaustion, my protest was merely a whimper, "Marcus, respect Mother, don't do this, this is so dirty.."
"Then say 'Red' and we're through, but I knew from the start you don't want this to end. He continued thrusting between my breasts, he said, "Mother, you know you like looking at me, look at me now."
I tried to look away, but couldn't help looking up at him. I heard his panting as he was nearing his own orgasm. He let go of my breasts and moved up further to straddle my shoulders. He began stroking himself. I turned my head away, what was he thinking, on the face of his Mother.
"Look up and keep your mouth open, Mother."
"Marcus, no, No!!" But I was too exhausted to even try to resist when he grabbed my chin with his free hand and held me firmly in place.
"Mouth open." he ordered.
I instinctively opened my mouth wide. I was surprised, if I had thought about, I would not have done this so enthusiastically, knowing what was coming. I heard his breathing accelerate as he neared his own orgasm, I looked up at him, as he ordered me. He looked down at me, as I could tell he was getting closer. Suddenly he started moaning, "Oh, yes, oh, yes.."
When he came on me, and it was sudden and unexpected, it was like a geyser erupting, his hot semen just spewing out in waves, ejecting into my mouth and on my face, neck, in my hair!
I couldn't believe this. He stayed as he was, as his penis went flaccid after he came. He took his right hand dripping with semen, and said, "Clean me up Mother."
I began licking his hand, licking off the semen. Then he placed his penis on my face and said, "Clean me here, too, Mother, you've always taught me to be clean." So I licked what was left on his penis. I didn't think about why I just jumped up and did it like it was normal.
We both paused for a moment, he said, "Mother, I'll be back in a second."
I lay there on my back, tied up, my own son's still hot semen running down my face, tasting it in my mouth. He returned carrying some things, he got back on the bed.
"Ok, Mother, I have two things for you." He threw a face cloth onto the mattress. "To clean up".
Then he put a check in my sight, $5,000, then threw it next to the face cloth.
"This is for Paris, and please don't blow it all before you get off the plane."
He, still naked, lay down next to me, "Mother, we have established two things today. First, you overspend, you get spanked. I will not dishonor my father by blowing the fortune heworked so hard for."
"I already promised you I wouldn't."
"Second, Mother, I realize the spankings, the scaring off my girlfriends, that was all part of some type of sick attraction you've developed for me. What just happened, Mother, is I have become so frustrated, and you owe me. I will state this straight to you, as you are responsible, you will be available to me, whenever I want. Again, I think you understand about what I told you today, in this very bed, that you have humiliated me and left me with a reputation for having a psycho Mother that drove women away. You understand your obligations?"
"Marcus, no...", I sheepishly replied aware of what he was talking about.
"Remember the safe word, Mother, I won't make you do anything you don't want. But you do want, you just were always afraid to go further with me."
I couldn't respond, did not know what to say.
"I'm going to untie you now. I have to leave. Believe it or not Mother, I have actual responsibilities, and must be on my way. Clean yourself up. I'll see you when you get back from Paris."
He untied my legs an my ankles, "Don't move, Mother." I stayed still on my back, still feeling his semen dripping off my face, still tasting it. He grabbed the cords that he tied me with, and reached to the floor and gathered his suit. I watched him, his nice lean bottom, walk out of the room, carrying his clothes as he went downstairs.
I got up on my elbows, and that caused the semen to drip all over me and the bed. I took the face cloth and began to clean up. I took me clothes off and went to take a shower. While showering, I couldn't help the urge to pull the shower head to pulse onto my pussy. I fantasized about Marcus, and had another shuddering orgasm that day.
For the next two years, Marcus would come by dutifully on Fridays to bring me my allowance. The ritual developed, he would order me to undress and stand in the corner, hands over head, while he went over my expenses and cut the check. I obeyed him and would do as I was told, as I really wanted that check, but would still be flushed with embarrassment. But I also remembered how obedient he was when I would do the same to him.
I was still overspending, so always wound up getting a spanking. But I was getting better, and the spanking was becoming less severe and shorter. And he would praise me on the good work I was doing with my budget.
When he would drag me up to the bedroom, though, I would protest wildly, just like the first time. He always had to time me up. Every time I would protest, he would simply say, "'Red', the safe word, Mother, it's easy to remember and I remind you every week. Just say it!"
But for two years, I never used that word. No matter how rough and how, well, 'experimental' our incestuous sex became, I never once felt the need for it. To hear me screaming, crying, begging him to stop, you would think I would. But I never did.
But one night, after another bout of our forbidden lovemaking, after he had untied me and we were cuddling in my bed, he said:
"Mother, I need to tell you something that's very difficult for me, but you must know."
"Oh, Marcus, honey, you can tell me anything." as I pressed myself against him and gingerly kissed his lips. 'What is it?"
"Mother, I started dating a wonderful woman, and it's getting serious. That means this has to stop. We won't be doing this after today. I will continue the spanking, because you have been making such progress, that should not stop for your own good. But this," he said as he pushed into me hugged me tight and kissed me deeply, 'has to stop. I'm sorry."
"Oh, Marcus, that's wonderful you found a girl," but I started sobbing uncontrollably.
He held me tight and stroked my head, "It's OK, Mother, it was good, but it's time for both of us to move on. Mother, you know what an attractive woman you are, you'll have no trouble finding someone."
"Marcus, do you know how important this has become to me? I feel like I'm losing my boy."
"Mother, we will still be close, just not in this way."
"Marcus, I don't want this to stop. This hurts me!"
"Mother, I'm sorry you're sad, but this has to be."
He stood up, and began getting dressed. I looked at him, watched as he put clothes back on his naked body, a body that I would never get to see again, have pressed against me again, have inside me again, was being covered from me forever, and I continued sobbing.
"Marcus, I feel like you are a lover leaving me. I know what we were doing was not going to last, but I looked forward to your visit every Friday. I don't want this to end, are you really ending this. I don't want it to stop. You know I would never tell her about this. Please Marcus.", I pleaded.
"Mother, you know this has to end. I have to leave now, it's over."
Sobbing, I remembered the safe word, he promised he would stop what he was doing if it really hurt me, as long as I told him that little three letter word.
As he walked out the door, saying, "Mother I'm leaving, sorry, but this is over."
I sobbed, "Marcus, 'Red'."
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<a href="http://www.lushstories.com/stories/incest/modified-mother-taught-a-lesson-part-ii.aspx">Modified Mother taught a lesson Part II</a>