Moms Against Public Drunk Nudity #14

Yet, more than the unwelcomed touches, feels, and gropes of her son that started ever since she had sex with him, she's had no privacy. Her always on the surface feelings of being sexually used and emotionally abused with her husband were beginning to resurface now with her son. Never having to lock her doors before, she'd been locking her doors now. Whether she was in her bedroom undressing for bed or dressing for the start of her day, he'd barge in to watch her undress and/or dress. At first it was sexy fun and erotically appealing to play the incestuous, sexual games of peek-a-boo with her playing the MILF of a cougar seductress. Yet, as if he's never seen a woman in her bra and panty, topless, or naked before, he'd stare at her as if he was a sexual offender hitting the voyeuristic jackpot. In the way he stared at her, as if he was about to rape her, he made her feel so exposed that he made her feel uncomfortable.

The same now happens with her in the bathroom taking a shower. Without giving her the courtesy of knocking, he feels entitled to just open the door and walk right in under the pretense that he had something so important to say that it couldn't wait until she was in her towel. In the way he leers at her, he makes her feel so naked. Sexually exciting at first for him to see her in her bra and panty, topless, and/or naked, him violating her privacy is a nuisance now.

Now, when stealthily walking in the kitchen and she was standing at the sink preparing food, he surprises her by coming up behind her to hump her while rubbing his pajama clad erection against the crack of her ass through her clothes. Normally enjoying the sensation of a man dry humping her when she was in the mood, when she wasn't sexually aroused, that unwanted attention and unwelcomed sexual behavior turned her stomach. For the sake of saving her son from himself by hoping to stop him from drinking and whoring, but now exhibiting the same, bad, sexual behavior with her instead of with his whores, it was her fault for opening up this Pandora's Box. Much like father like son, maybe there was something amiss in his genetic code with him now exhibiting the same bad, sexual behavior of his father. How dare he think that he can take control of her when she was the one who was about to take control of him.

If his dry humping and rubbing his cock against her ass wasn't enough, he'd reach up to caress her D cup breasts in his horny hands while fingering her big nipples. Not wanting to discourage his sexual interest in her, but rather wanting to encourage his sexual interest in her, for fear that he may return to his drinking and whoring, she endured his inappropriate feels and touches. Yet, what bothered her more than him French kissing her, squeezing her ass, dry humping her ass, and feeling her tits while fingering her nipples, was him cupping her pussy through her pants or going up her short skirt to cup her pussy through her panty. She needed to be in the mood for him to touch her there.

Hardly a virgin and not anywhere near being a prude, it was the fact that he acted as if her body was his body to do whatever he wanted to do to it, whenever he wanted. Wanting to be the one in control, she didn't appreciate being so sexually assaulted and controlled first by her husband and now by her son. She didn't like the fact that he now assumed that her ass was his ass. She didn't like the fact that he now assumed that her tits were his tits. Wanting everything on her terms, she didn't like to be groped and manhandled.

Truth be told, with her always wanting the attention of men, nevertheless she never liked being touched, especially touched sexually, unless she invited the man to touch her. If anyone was going to be manhandled, she'd grope and woman handle him. Woman handle? Other than in the Urban Dictionary, more evidence that it's a man's world, there's not even a word in the dictionary for woman handle, yet there's one for manhandle, of course.

Now that she thinks more about it, why wouldn't he feel that he could touch and feel her anytime he wants? It was her fault that he felt that way. She sucked his cock after all, he came in her mouth, and she swallowed her own son's cum. Being that she sexually teased him before taking inappropriate liberties with his body, now it was his turn to take inappropriate liberties with her body. Only, more repulsive to her than blowing him, not that she was repulsed by that sexual act at all, she wasn't, was that he acted as if he owned her.

His dominate attitude is the thing that pissed her off. She didn't like to be owned by any man. If anyone was going to own anybody, she was going to take ownership of him. He acted as if she was his bitch to do whatever he wanted to do with her. If anyone was going to be the bitch in this family, he was going to be her bitch. This was her time to wear the pants in this family.

No way. This little sexual relationship wasn't going to continue under his rules. This little sexual relationship will continue under her rules or not at all. She was still his mother and even if she is an incestuous slut, she still deserves respect. He needs to back the fuck off. He needs to be taught a lesson. He needs to learn some discipline. He needs to be punished. He needs to feel the point of her high heeled boot on his balls, the heaviness of her hand across his face, and the sting of her whip across his broad back, and the feel of her paddle spanking his naked ass.

* * * * *

That night, no doubt hoping she was standing there in her bra and panty, topless, or naked, when he burst in her bedroom under the pretense that he had her tell her something that was so very important that it couldn't wait, she was ready for him. Dressed in her painfully tight, black leather Dominatrix outfit resplendent with thigh high, stiletto boots, elbow length gloves, and whip, she greeted him as Mistress Carol as soon as he flung open her bedroom door. Oh, yeah, giddy up, there's a new sheriff in town and this cowboy would be kowtowing to this cowgirl or else.

"Mom?"

"Mom? From now on I'm Mistress Carol to you," she said stiffening her posture and raising her chin.

"Mistress Carol? Are you serious?"

He laughed and when he did she gave him a look that would melt metal while snapping her whip against the hardwood floor.

"Do you think you can just barge in my room without knocking?"

She looked at him as if he wasn't her son but some strange, little, fat, bald man that she had taken on as her BDSM client.

"Sorry Mom, I mean Mistress Carol," he said giving her a snide, little look.

If only she had a dungeon, she'd show him. She'd chain him to the wall and leave him there after whipping him into submission.

"How dare you disrespect me by looking at me in that way? Who do you think you are?"

When he moved his gaze downward as if she was royalty and he was her loyal subject, her transformation of dominance was working. By the apologetic look on his face, he was already acting contrite and submissive.

"Sorry."

Now that she had him, she needed to turn and twist her screw of obedience with punishment, discipline, and control.

"Sorry?" She stared at him as if she hated him when she loved him enough to save him from himself. "Sorry isn't good enough," she said snapping her whip in her hand as if it was a belt folded in half.

Frightening him, he took a step back.

"Not good enough?" He looked at her as if she was someone else who had invaded his house and took control of his mother's body. "What do you mean?"

Fear replaced his look of sexual arousal when he first burst through her bedroom door without knocking no doubt with the hopes of catching her in her bra and panty, topless, or even naked.

"You need to be punished for opening my bedroom door without knocking," she said pointing her whip at him. "You need to be punished for not respecting my privacy. You need to be punished for groping me whenever the Hell you feel like groping me. You need to be disciplined for still using wire hangers instead of wooden ones," she said snapping the whip against the hardwood floor hard enough to make him jump with the crack.

Wishing she could have done this with her husband, she was so enjoying doing this with her son.

"I promise to knock before opening your bedroom and bathroom door. I promise to respect your privacy. I'll go remove the wire hangers from my closet right now," he said turning to leave too late when the end of her whip snapped against his pajama clad ass. "Ow! Jesus Christ! That fucking really hurt," he said rubbing his buttocks.

He looked at her with tears in his eyes and instead of feeling bad, she felt invigorated. Indeed, no longer his mother, she was his Domme.

"Take off those pajamas," she said staring at the bulging impression his cock made in his pajama bottoms in the way that he always stared at the impressions her big nipples made in her nightgown.

She looked at him with sexual arousal while he looked at her with fear.

"But I'm not wearing any underwear," he said.

With a toss of her head, she flicked back her long, naturally blonde hair while running a slow tongue across her red, full lips.

"That's all the better," she said forsaking her whip to remove an oversized, wooden paddle from beneath her pillow.

As if the paddle was a double sided mirror and she was the evil, wicked queen in Snow White, she held it up to examine both sides of it before focusing her stare to her son.

'Mirror, mirror in my hand, who's the Dominatrix Queen in all the land,' she thought to herself.

"Holy shit," he said with a gulp when he saw the paddle. "Where'd you get that? Where'd you get all of these things?"

Obviously approving the way his sexy mother looked in her Dominatrix outfit, he stared at her as if she was an ice cold six pack of beer on a hot day.

"Silence! Drop your pajamas now," she said slapping the paddle against the palm of her hand to make a loud slapping noise.

The sound of the paddle against the meat of her open hand scared him and he jumped into obedience.

"Okay, okay," he said allowing his pajama bottoms to fall to his ankles.

Staring at her staring at him, he stood there with his cock and testicles exposed to his mother.

"Now turn around and bend over," she said.

With the color draining from his face, he looked at her as if she was crazy.

"Turn around? Bend over? Now wait just one minute," he said.

Not allowing this long awaited moment to escape her, she took control of the situation.

"Do it now!"

This time obeying her, he turned around and bent at the waist while she stepped forward with her raised paddle in hand.

"One for opening my bedroom door without knocking. Slap! Two for opening my bathroom door without knocking. Slap! Slap! Three for trying to French kiss me every time you see me. Slap, slap, slap! Four for squeezing my ass, groping my tits, and fingering my nipples through my clothes," she said. "Slap, slap, slap, slap!"

"Ow! Fuck! Jesus fucking Christ! Holy shit! Enough. I've had enough. Okay?"

Then, she leaned her arm all the way back as if she was about to pitch a fastball to home plate.

"And five for cupping my pussy through my pants and cupping my pussy through my panty when going up my short skirt," she said ending his spanking. "Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! You're my little bitch now," she said.

He turned to look at her with tears running down his face from fifteen whacks of her paddle.

"Ow! Jesus Christ Mom, that really fucking hurt," he said rubbing his ass.

As if she was the one who was just spanked with a paddle, she stared at him with anger when he voiced his complaint with foul language.

"Do you want more? I can give you more whacks for using foul language in my house and in my presence," he said.

Obviously biting his tongue in the way he was looking at her, he didn't further complain.

"No, I've had enough," he said.

Showing him no mercy, not even verbally, she didn't care that he was crying. She didn't care that she hurt him. She was in control of him now and he had better obey or he'd be punished and disciplined again.

"And it's Mistress Carol and not Mom," she said with a vengeance.

He looked at her with confusion.

"Huh?"

She looked at him in the way her husband looked at her when he wanted her not to resist but to comply.

"You called me Mom again," she said spitting out the word Mom as if it was something dirty and evil.

He looked at her as if she was someone else or if she was on some kind of mind altering and mood possessing drug.

"I did?"

Not allowing him to get away with anything, she demanded his respect.

"You did."

He wiped away his tears with one hand while rubbing his buttocks with the other.

"Sorry Mistress Carol," he said.

With him already defeated, she told him what she wanted, what she needed, and what she expected from him.

"Tomorrow, I expect you up early, 7am, to make me breakfast, one egg over easy, two sausages, two pieces of toast with margarine and cherry jelly, orange juice, and coffee black no sugar," she said.

He looked at her as if he was a subservient waiter taking her order instead of her son.

"Sure, I can do that."

She gave him a self-satisfied smile of victory.

"Every day you're to make and serve me breakfast in bed," she said widening her smile.

Expecting him to do so, she waited for him to protest but he didn't.

"Every day? Yeah, okay. No problem," he said.

She smiled without even answering him.

"The trash goes out tonight," she said.

He looked at her in the way that an employee looks at his boss instead of a son looking at his mother.

"Okay," he said.

He looked sad. He looked defeated. Yet, judging him by his emerging erection, he looked sexually excited.

"And I'll be checking your closet for wire hangers later," she said giving him that self-satisfied smile again.

Obviously thinking that she was kidding about the wire hangers before, he gave her a look of horror now.

"I'll take care of that right now," he said stopping himself before leaving. "May I leave?"

Already a loyal servant to her whimsy, he did everything but bow.

"Yes, you do that but I'll be watching you," she said raising her middle and index fingers in the shape of a VEE and moving them to her eyes before moving them to him as if she was a snake ready to strike with her fangs. "Now get out of my room. I'll call you when I need you."

He turned to look at her one more time.

"Only..."

Looking as if he had second thoughts about what he was about to say, he looked uncomfortable.

"Only what?"

She picked up her whip ready to use it should he disrespect her with what he was about to say.

"From now on..."

He looked from his mother dressed in her sexy Dominatrix outfit to look at the whip before staring at all that his mother was showing in her revealing tight, leather outfit.

"From now on what?"

"Will you always be dressed like that?"

With his cock sticking straight out and pulsating, he stared at her in the way that he no doubt stared at strippers and hookers but never dared stare at his mother in that inappropriate, sexual way.

To be continued...