My Mother - My Lover
Copyright© 2017 by Bobspanks
Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Two adults tossed into a unique living situation; the mother is a problem, the son is strict. To discipline or not to discipline? Sometimes strict control can lead to other things besides a very sore bottom.
Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Mult Coercion Consensual NonConsensual Reluctant Romantic Heterosexual Fiction Incest Mother Son BDSM DomSub MaleDom Humiliation Rough Spanking Anal Sex Enema Oral Sex Pregnancy Water Sports Small Breasts Caution Transformation
I grew up on a stock farm in western Pennsylvania. My father had been an officer in the war and that never left him; he could be pretty strict. My mother (eight years younger than he was) had been a ‘war bride’. She was a true red-head and, could be a handful at times; I realized this even at a young age. My younger sister, Eve, took after my mother in most ways although, as ‘daddies’ girl’, she managed to avoid most of the corporal punishment handed out to myself and my mother at times.
I was probably eight years old when I realized that (in our family at least) there was no age limit for discipline. This was brought to my attention when I witnessed – by accident – my mother being given a very long and hard spanking, in what passed as the den. She was probably twenty-eight or nine at the time; for me the scene was both erotic and shocking. Seeing her over my father’s lap, kicking and wailing, dress up around her waist and her panties down around her ankles (until she kicked them off) gave me a preview of things to come in life.
My point of view was from her feet with her head on the other side of my fathers’ lap. I didn’t realize that she bruised easily. As I watched the spanking progress I watched her bare bottom go from a light pink to a very nasty deep red color. By the time my father helped her stand up, the lower part of both of her cheeks were one big and, nasty looking, bruise.
In the end she was left, bawling out of control, flexing and rubbing/clutching her cheeks. When she sat it was obvious that her bottom was sore as hell and, she didn’t sit well, or long, for a day after at least. Even at my age, I found the nudity and the spanking very arousing.
A few years later there was a pretty big fight over something she’d done. In the days following that argument (and my father’s lecturing her) he made what became known as the family paddle. The Saturday following that, we were sent to our rooms, our parents went to the barn.
I can remember my mother sitting at the kitchen table, waiting to be summoned to the barn. She wasn’t the happiest person in the world just then. She was upset and seemed very nervous.
Before we were told to go to our rooms, I saw my father come to the back door for her. He was carrying the new paddle. I’d seen them at school; some teachers had them in their rooms, the principal had one ... the school paddle with holes in it. This one had two rows of holes in it; they were well over half an inch in diameter. At the time I didn’t realize the reason for the holes; in a few years I’d find out – the hard way.
That trip to the barn lasted over half an hour. My one bedroom window faced the barn and I opened it to listen, out of curiosity. My sister joined me and we watched/listened to what was going on about two hundred feet away. Although we couldn’t hear any conversation; we clearly heard the slightly muffled sound of the paddle, making contact with my mother’s bare bottom. I counted twenty whacks and, there were a few loud cries of pain as the paddling went on. It was slow and deliberate.
My father was the first to return to the house. He hung the paddle on the basement door and went to do some work. Later, we watched my mother limp up the walkway to the house. She was walking slowly and carrying her white panties clutched in her one hand – we kids referred to how she was walking as the ‘robot walk’. Stiff and slow, like a robot on a TV show, the way you walked after a paddling. It was plain to see that she was crying and in pain. My mother went straight to their bedroom and flopped down across the bed to continue bawling for a while.
She did manage to make dinner – while moving around slowly and carefully. I vividly remember her sitting to join us at the table. She sat slowly, putting her hands down on the chair to support herself then, lowered herself until she was sitting with her full weight on her bottom. For a few moments her eyes were closed and she drew a few long trembling breaths before opening them; I noticed her wipe a few tears away. To me there was no doubt that the paddling had been painful as hell; I didn’t see her sit much for a few days.
This was in the 50’s and 60’s; women, wives, were punished. Spanking, paddling and the strap/belt was still used for corporal punishment in the home. This was the norm and, it wasn’t playing games or done for erotic reasons, the discipline was real. The pain was real as I’d find out the first time I got it with that paddle ... you thought twice about misbehaving again ... my mother never seemed to learn.
Although we lived in the country, my family was fairly cosmopolitan. Both parents had friends in Pittsburgh and they attended parties, dinners and other functions. I would find out (in the future) that my mother’s biggest problem was her excessive drinking and ... she could be a bad drunk; a very bad drunk. This, coupled with a lack of common sense, is what caused her to get most of her discipline. As a kid I did witness a little more of it; it was both scary and erotic as hell.
I had no idea what the future held.
Fast Forward to About Nineteen-Seventy Eight (or close to that)
At the age of twenty-eight, I had been in and out of some failed relationships; one had ended in marriage but didn’t last too long. I was living in a nice little house in the country and, operating a small but growing landscaping business. That was the year my father decided that he’d had enough of my mother’s drinking (it had become worse) and, literally, tossed her out. My sister had her own life and wasn’t interested in having her live with her; when asked, I agreed to allow her to live with me.
My mother – no work experience, no driver’s license, no job and, a small monthly payment from my father ... at the age of forty-six.
Knowing how things ‘could be’, we had a little talk before she moved in. Evelyn would have her own room, we would share some of the household chores, she would slow down on her drinking (a lot) and behave herself. Sort of, ‘my house – my rules’, in a way. Although she was my mother and I loved her dearly; I wasn’t going to put up with what my father had.
Evelyn was still attractive and took care of herself; she looked younger than her age. At five feet three inches and one hundred and twenty pounds; small breasted and compact, she was an attractive little package. She did always have a very nice ass and cute legs; even as a kid I was aware of that. Now, as an adult, even with no sexual interest in her, she was still attractive as hell. Evelyn was, after all, my mother.
It was summer, I was busy with work. Evelyn behaved herself (for the first few months) and, in other ways, misbehaved just a little – enough to make things interesting around the house. She looked pretty good in a bikini and, she had a few of them; she developed a habit of going from the shower to her room in a towel. That showed a decent amount of skin. She started wearing one of my old dress shirts around the house to lounge in; one missing a lot of buttons. At first she wore it with shorts or jogging pants then, one day, only with panties.
That had my attention for breakfast. The tail of the shirt covered her backside pretty well – except when she bent over or sat down – with the buttons missing, I was treated to a nice flash of smaller tight boobs when she bent forward.
I had no idea what was really going on and didn’t question it; I sat eating breakfast and enjoyed the show. The thought did cross my mind that she was trying to get my attention, in a sexual way but, I didn’t think so. She had always been kind of open about things at home; her actions now (I thought) were just her way of becoming comfortable around me.
It was a Saturday and we spent the day together, working around the house and in the yard. In the afternoon she decided to get some sun – that meant a change to a bikini. I didn’t mind that either; she was still a pretty sexy and attractive woman.
It was giving me no end of jack-off material. Yes, I wondered what would happen if...
As time passed, some other things changed. Kissing became on the mouth, instead of a mother/son quick peck on the cheek. Hugs became a little tighter and warmer ... a little longer too. There also seemed to be more touching and, in more intimate places. I tested this a few times; there was no resistance when my kiss lasted a little longer or, became a little ‘wet’. During a hug, if my hands found her little bottom and gave her cheeks a squeeze, she said nothing ... she did seem to tighten the hug more and push herself against me. No ‘grinding’ against me; just pushing a little harder. This all happened over time; along with her casual dress.
I had noticed that her drinking was picking up a little; nothing to cause problems but she was drinking more. When I questioned it she promised to watch it and not go overboard. I trusted her to keep her word.
Things came to a head something like a month later. Her drinking had increased, less and less of her chores were being done around the house or, nothing was being done unless I reminded her. She had started meeting some friends for a weekly card club; those days I’d find her asleep on the one small couch in the living room ... drunk and asleep.
I’d clean some things up, start dinner and let her sleep it off. Those times usually got an apology from her so, I let it slide. If she slept through dinner, she had to heat it up or get nothing ... I wasn’t waiting on her.
The afternoon everything exploded was one Friday that we knocked-off early at work. I arrived home at two o’clock to find Evelyn passed out cold in the living room. There was a bottle beside her, that she’d knocked over and a half full glass of booze. Vowing to have a talk with her; I cleaned up the mess, started cleaning up in the kitchen and let her sleep.
When dinner was almost ready, I went in to check on her; she’d been sleeping soundly for almost three hours. I’d thought that, if she was up to it, we could have a nice quiet dinner – and a talk – on the back patio. When thinking about that and, before checking on her, I’d set two places on the table there.
It almost happened.
Evelyn had become very comfortable on the little couch. She was lying diagonally across it with her head resting on the one arm; her one foot was on the couch, the other on the floor. Legs spread wide, the skirt up around her backside, it was quite a picture. The white hip hugging bikini panties didn’t leave much to the imagination...
When I tried to wake her up, Evelyn stirred, moved a little and rolled over. I was presented with that great ass of hers; the material of the brief panties stretched tightly across both cheeks. It took some prodding but I finally had her semi-awake and sitting up; hung over and groggy she sat but didn’t bother pulling the skirt down. I sat down beside her, gave her a little kiss then started to talk to her.
Things started calm enough but went to hell fast. She was not in the best mood, didn’t like being awakened and really wasn’t in the mood to talk. I pressed and she lost her temper in a flash; I don’t remember the screaming conversation but I do remember the slap. I also remember the look of shock she gave me right after the hard slap; Evelyn had screwed up and she knew it. There was some stammering from her – the beginnings of an apology – it was cut short by my hard slap to her left cheek; snapping her head to the right. She sat staring at me for a minute as about a thousand thoughts rushed through my brain.
I knew what I should do and what I could do and seriously thought about doing it. The person sitting a few feet away (now filled with apprehension and shock) needed a wake-up call, something to get her attention. Still ... my house, my rules.
As I stood, I took her one wrist in my grasp and pulled Evelyn to her feet. There was only a small struggle; she was in no condition to resist much. The same was true as I towed her into the dining room, pulled out one of the armless chairs from the dining table and sat down. As I sat, I pulled her to my right side then, off balance ... Evelyn landed across my lap; wiggling, kicking, arms flailing! She did have the presence of mind to try and apologize for the slap. Gasping the apology ... wiggling around and, “Bob honey ... please ... no ... please don’t dear ... I’m sorry...
... we were both familiar with the position she was in.
While the wiggling was going on I’d taken her right wrist in my grasp then pulled it down to her side. With my arm across her back I tucked her into my lap, grabbed the hem of the skirt and pulled it up tucking it under my arm. Except for the scant panties, she was bare from waist to toe. During the struggle the panties had become bunched in the cleft between those cute cheeks; making everything a lot tighter.
As she apologized (in vain) I raised my right hand, took aim at the fullest part of those cute cheeks and brought it down hard! I had just crossed the line between son and ‘other’, Evelyn was going to be spanked.
It began pretty loud and became louder as the spanking went on. The struggling ceased quickly but not the squealing and cries of pain as I worked those little cheeks over. Evelyn bounced in my lap but; after a short while, it was only after a good hard smack to her bottom. She put most of her effort into stammering an apology and begging me to stop. I watched that little bottom turn pink, then red as I spanked away; covering every square inch, right down to the tops of her thighs. After a short break, to pull her panties down, the spanking went on until she gave a long wail of pain, arched her back hard then ... burst into tears. An explosion of emotion!
I continued, my mother wiggled and kicked a little – not much – enough to help the panties slip down her thighs then further, until they were hanging from one ankle. Most of her energy was going into howling in pain; along with some very long wet sobs. When the panties slipped off of her ankle, to land on carpet behind her, I stopped spanking – resting my hand on her red hot and glowing bottom. My poor mother slumped over my lap; breathing hard, sobbing like a little girl – snotting and drooling.
As I waited, as she began to calm a little and get her breath back, I watched her glowing bottom and rubbed it a little. There had been a few small bruises, some spotty discoloration that was darker. As I watched, they grew and became darker still until, there were three separate and distinct bruises. One large one, almost exactly in the center of her right cheek and, two matching ones, at the very bottom of each cheek. They grew more livid as I waited and watched.
A few minutes later, as she calmed down a little, I asked if I had her attention. Her answer was to take a few deep breaths then say, “Yes honey ... oh god yes ... please, no more! I’m very sorry ... please stop ... please...”
Followed quickly by, “I have to pee ... Bob please ... I can’t hold it anymore!”
As she waited I undid the catch on the back of the skirt and then pulled down the zipper. There was no reason for the skirt anymore; it was just in the way.
When I did help Evelyn stand it was on some very shaky legs. She didn’t stop the skirt when it slipped below her hips to end up in a puddle around her ankles. That was the least of the things bothering her.
Her hands were busy and, there was no thought of any modesty. She stood trembling while pushing wet hair back out of her face, wiping tears, sniffing back snot and trying to rub the pain out of her cheeks. This while flexing her legs and moving from one foot to the other.
I reminded her why she was standing and told her to, “Go pee, use the powder room (about fifteen feet away) then, get your little ass right back here.” Then, watched her walk very carefully away. The wiggle in that backside was a little different now; more subdued. During the struggling and the spanking some of the buttons on her blouse had popped open. Enough of them that I was looking at her lacy, front-hook bra.
When she returned, to stand in front of me while still rubbing and shaking, I calmly explained that her discipline wasn’t over ... yet. Evelyn tried pleading with me but I didn’t care. Between her increased drinking, the attitude and the slap; along with simple chores not being done, I’d had enough.
As she rubbed her stinging bottom, wiped some tears and flexed, she pleaded right up to the point that I put her over my lap again, adjusted her position better then started spanking ... again.
She regained enough energy to resume wiggling and some kicking. I went back to work on both cheeks then moved down to the lowest part of her bottom to really light a fire down there.
When I’d decided that she’d been punished enough I stopped. Our roles had been reversed and, for the last part of the spanking, she had been bouncing on my semi-hard cock.
Once more, helping her to stand, I ordered, “Now ... get your little ass upstairs, to your room, and get in bed! I don’t want to hear a sound out of you or you’re going back over my knee!”
My mother turned, limped over to the stairs then, with agonizing slowness (clinging to the handrail) went upstairs as ordered. Looking over her blazing bottom – I had to believe that every little mincing step had to hurt.
I mixed myself a drink and ate dinner alone on the patio.
After eating I cleaned everything up but, left the one place set just in case Evelyn wanted to eat. I then went up to check on her; it had been a few hours and everything had been very quiet.
Evelyn was in her room; face down on the bed, legs spread and her blazing bottom on display. Even in the dim light it looked a lot worse than before. I sat on the bed and nudged her. With my help, in a few minutes, I had her in my arms ... moaning and gasping a little, her little backside still throbbing and burning, I held her for a few minutes then kissed her – hard and long. She was trembling a little, breathing hard and acting very contrite as she pushed herself against me and, hugged me tight. There were a few more kisses as I rubbed her back, rubbed my way down to her bottom then on to her thighs. There had been a gasping moan when I rubbed and squeezed her bottom, “Please honey ... don’t ... it hurts just to touch it. God ... I hope you don’t ever get that mad at me again.”
There was more moaning and, some pleading, as I explained that (although the worst was over for now) there would be a ‘reminder’ given tomorrow. “Dear,” I said, “I should take the time to make a paddle but ... for now, a second session over my knee should be sufficient to hold your attention.”
She hugged me close as a small shudder ran through her, it was accompanied by a breathless moan of anticipated pain.
Evelyn was hungry; I had no idea when she’d eaten last (probably some little things at the card club) the drinking and the struggling, the flailing around during the spanking, had sapped most of her energy. When I suggested some dinner she agreed to it.
I went down first, to warm things up for her. Evelyn appeared later, still walking cautiously – carefully, like she was walking on broken glass. She hadn’t bothered to button her blouse and had only slipped back into her panties. When I ushered her onto the patio she went through the ritual of sitting – slowly and very carefully; putting her hands down on the seat of the chair first then, lowering herself slowly until sitting. There were a few little gasps, as her bottom took the weight of her body, a few stray tears and, she sat very still once her sore ass was in the seat. As she ate I made another drink and joined her ... it was a mostly silent meal.
Near the end I explained that, “You’re going to spend most of tomorrow in your bedroom; that’s part of your punishment. At some point, probably in the afternoon, I’ll give you another spanking as a reminder to behave in the future.” She pouted, started to plead out of it but I silenced her. “I don’t want a repeat of today dear; hopefully, sitting on a sore backside for a while will stop that from happening.”
We talked a little more before I sent her to bed. The role reversal was now complete. When told to go to bed – like a little girl being sent to her room – Evelyn rose and walked to where I was sitting, bent to give me a kiss then, walked slowly away ... obediently. I didn’t want to stand ‘up’ anyway; part of me already was; my cock was rock hard and, had been that way for a while. I couldn’t help wondering what would happen if, I went up and got into bed with her.
The other thought, right up there with a good hard fucking was, the possibility of getting my mother pregnant. I was aware that she hadn’t gone through menopause yet; Evelyn still had a period. The tampons, in the bathroom, were proof of that. If things did end up with us having sex what were the chances of a pregnancy? I knew that I didn’t have a condom in the house so ... how to handle sex if it happened? Just pull out and blow my load ‘on’ and not in her was not the safest way but...
I’d handle that when the time came. What I did do, just then, was to close everything up and go to bed; my cock had been so hard for so long that it needed relief.
The following morning we shared a late breakfast. Evelyn wasn’t too hungry, mostly pushing the food around on her plate. She was back to wearing my old dress shirt, to lounge in and, a pair of brief bikini panties. She looked pretty bad too. Between the hangover and the hours of crying her face was swollen; her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, a real mess. She hadn’t brushed her hair so that made things look worse. Once we’d finished I sent her to her room saying, “Leave your door open dear; when I call you down later I want you to hear me.”
We hadn’t talked about it, other than what I said the night before but ... Evelyn was going to get that ‘reminder’ as promised. Not only did she have it coming but I wanted to do it. I felt that it was necessary to insure our domestic tranquility.
I busied myself with a few things around the yard and in my garage/shop. One thing that I was thinking about was the paddle I’d mentioned. In the garage one thing caught my eye; I’d had a flawless pine board planed down to a little under half an inch for something in the past. It would, with a little work, make one beautiful paddle. I looked it over then set it aside ... later ... if my mother didn’t settle down and obey ... later.
Sometime in the mid-afternoon I called her downstairs. Hesitant, apprehensive and a little pouty, she walked slowly down the stairs to join me in the dining room. She was dressed as she’d been for breakfast; I assumed that she just went back to bed after eating. Lying was less uncomfortable than sitting anyway.
I knew that an application of cold towels would ease a lot of the pain; I’d decided to let her suffer the lasting pain, it would be a lesson.
The chair was back in the same position as the day before. We both knew what was going to happen so there wasn’t a need for much conversation. Evelyn made one last try anyway; an attempt to talk me out of another trip over my lap.
“Look,” I said, “this isn’t a game ... you’re being punished and you know why. This won’t be that bad but ... I’m going to warm your little ass up good again today.” Her face took on a deeper pouting look as a few tears appeared then made little wet tracks down her cheeks. “You’re going back over my lap Evelyn; that backside of yours is going to set on fire again and ... the more trouble you give me ... the longer this spanking will last.”
By the time she was back over my lap, as I pulled her panties down once again, she was in tears and breathing hard. She was also trembling from head to toe.
That bottom of hers looked pretty bad. Although much of the surrounding and superficial redness had cleared-up, in the past twelve hours, the bruises not only remained but had increased in lividity. They had grown a little in size too.
I hesitated, running my fingers over her bottom and the bruises. This spanking would add to the damage while lighting another fire in that little backside. Evelyn winced and wiggled a little at my touch moaning, “Please honey, please ... just get it over with...”
She followed that with a gasp (as I raised my hand) then, a sharp yelp of pain as my hand made contact with her bruised bare bottom. The yelp became a series of sharp cries of pain as the spanking went on – she was already in tears. For a while the noise level in the dining room went up a lot as Evelyn went to pieces like a little girl. There was some bouncing, wiggling and kicking but she wore herself out quickly. In the end she slumped over my lap, bouncing some with each good hard smack to her bottom but, stopped being as animated.
Standing before me, at the end, she went through the same little dance as her hands kept busy all over. Mostly (in vain) trying to rub the pain in her backside away. No ... it wasn’t pleasant but ... it was necessary. Now, as she hobbled away and climbed the stairs slowly, her cute little ass was really a mess.
I don’t remember making any kind of decision to fuck Evelyn; it just happened.
A few hours later, I went up to check on her, one thing led to another and I was in bed with her. I’d taken off everything but my shorts. It was probably the combination of all of my emotions, being horny as hell coupled with her being mostly nude and – the sore bottom I’d given her.
I had spanked others over time, for a variety of reasons. The way this entire thing had happened – then played out – was completely different in every way. I had forcefully taken control of my mother and spanked the woman out of her. At the end of the punishment she had been reduced to a young lady, even a little girl. I was now the adult male and she was the child. Her obedience, during the ‘reminder’ spanking, had shown that. She had created a very bad situation and I’d taken charge of it to exert what amounted to ‘parental or domestic control’ over her.
It didn’t begin by being erotic – there hadn’t been any erotic feelings or thoughts – it had begun as simple punishment. In the end, when she was bruised, sore and bawling ... when she stood dancing and sobbing, like a little girl, in front of me ... it had become erotic.
I knew what I was going to do; I didn’t know how she would react to my advances. I did know that my cock wasn’t lying; Evelyn was desirable, she was now vulnerable and reduced to (what should have been) total obedience. Her knowledge that, if she disobeyed again, she would be given another painful spanking.
That and a short lecture plus something I was pretty sure she would not like at all ... some ‘corner time’ with her sore little bottom on display. I figured that, at her age, this would have a positive impact on her behavior. At least I hoped it would. She would also spend a few days confined to her room.
When I slipped into bed and took her in my arms; my cock was good and hard, it had been for a while. I wasn’t going to jack off this time. As I held her, hugged and kissed her, I knew that I was going to, one way or another, bury my cock in her.
There was no conversation at all; she returned my hot wet kisses, I unbuttoned the rest of the buttons on the old shirt to fondle her breasts some but my hand had other ideas. Evelyn moaned as my hand slipped down over her tummy to find the light, fine tangle of pubic hair between her legs. My mother buried her face in my chest and gasped as my one finger found her clit, then the moist folds of her vagina. I held her close, used two fingers and began to explore, to probe. She moaned, gasped more and arched her back very hard as I pushed those fingers in as deep as possible then, moved them around inside of her. She was tight but she was also very wet. Evelyn clung to me, trembling and squealing like hell. Taking a handful of her short hair I moved her head until my lips could find hers then, ground our lips together in a long hot wet kiss. She openly responded breathlessly to the kiss.
I was also busy in another area off and on. When I had a free hand, it was caressing and fondling her (still fairly firm and small) breasts. When my mouth wasn’t busy with her lips; I used my tongue and lips to stimulate her there. Her nipples became hard little knobs of flesh as I played, sucked and did some gentle nibbling.
By then her juices were running like a river.
Taking her one hand, I moved it to cover the hard bulge in my shorts. Evelyn gave a little moaning gasp then covered it with her fingers before slipping the waistband down a little to uncover the head of my cock. “Go ahead,” I said, “pull my shorts down; you’re going to get that pretty soon.”
With some wiggling around and tugging, my cock was free of the shorts in a few minutes. Her fingers encircled the shaft, she moaned a little while slowly stroking it. My mother wasn’t the only one moaning. Her touch was electric, my throbbing cock turned to steel as she slowly stroked it.
When I sensed that the time was right and, when I couldn’t wait any longer; I moved her onto her back, got between her legs and moved in to mount her. As I did this Evelyn gave a long moan and, croaked, “Honey ... Bob ... I don’t know but...”
My penetration stopped her.
The head of my cock found her soaking wet pussy lips, I hesitated for just a few seconds then pushed – slowly but with a purpose. As I entered her Evelyn gave a long hard gasp and arched her back. It was like sliding my cock into a hot and very wet oven; god was she hot inside! Once I’d buried myself to the hilt, I reached back and fumbled to pull her legs up. There was no resistance at all; my mother helped by pulling her knees up and spreading her legs. Once I had hooked her behind the knees, she finished it by moving them up and rolling her sore little bottom. I pulled out and gave a good hard thrust to bury myself again. She moaned and gasped, gave a little squeal, closed her eyes and moaned again.
This time it was only pure animal lust; I was only fucking to relieve myself and my now aching cock. My mother was being used as a cum-dump ... this time.
As my hard mindless fucking continued, I knew that I was slamming against a very sore ass; a very hot little sore ass. I was slamming it as hard as I could. Evelyn clung to me; squealing, gasping, moaning like hell and crying. Not hard but her expression was one of pain; her eyes were tightly closed and tears squeezed out to run down the side of her face.
Yes, I had thought about the possibility of getting her pregnant. Her position was, as far as I knew, perfect for that and, she was going to get a pretty big load this time. It was a fleeting thought though ... very fleeting.
A few minutes later I shoved everything but my aching balls deep inside of her and exploded. I hadn’t cum that hard or long in quite a while and damn – inside of that hot wet cunt – it felt very good; hell, it felt wonderful.
Then, worn out and totally drained, I relaxed on top of her for just a minute before putting my arms around her, rolling her onto her side and giving her a very wet and hard, deep kiss as we cuddled.
That had been the most enjoyable, the most erotic and the best (one sided) sex I’d had in years ... maybe in my life.
We both drifted off to sleep after that; I woke up hours later, in almost the same position and with another raging erection. Judging from the discomfort I felt, I’d been hard for a while. After gently prodding Evelyn awake then, getting her mildly aroused once again, I moved her onto her back and mounted her again, easing my rock hard cock back into that wet waiting cunt. This time I was more gentle, easing into her slowly, realizing that she was probably aching all over.
It must have been very early in the morning, still dark outside, when I pumped another nice big load of cum deep inside of her. I rationalized that; if she was still able to get pregnant, after that first hard fuck it didn’t matter now. We rocked together, Evelyn gasping and moaning, until I came again then, drifted back to sleep.
I was awake long before she was. Evelyn was face down with her head buried in a pillow; breathing deep and slow. Her legs were spread, almost as an invitation to mount her again. As I watched her in her sleep I surveyed the damage to her cute little bottom ... it was a mess; the multi-colored bruises pretty much covered the lower half of both cheeks. It was far from the worst discipline she’d experienced in her life however, my mother would probably have trouble walking for a few days and, sitting would be pretty uncomfortable for her; if she wanted to sit at all. As I watched her sleep I wondered about a few things; her experience with either oral or anal sex and the big one again – pregnancy.
Our roles had been completely reversed and I intended to keep it that way.
The painful day after
I woke Evelyn gently, with a few kisses then, told her that I was going down to make coffee. “I’ll bring a cup up to you dear; I’ll make breakfast after awhile and let you know when it’s ready. You’re going to spend most of today in your bedroom, except for time spent standing in a corner downstairs.”
“You mean standing in a corner like a little girl?” her tone of voice left no doubt that she wasn’t happy with the prospect. I wanted her obedience so; one way or another, she would be given corner time ... even at her age.
“Yes, like a naughty girl; more like a nasty, ill-tempered, little brat which is exactly how you were behaving. You will behave and obey me.”
Her answer was a long moan into the pillow then silence. I gave her sore bottom a gentle little pat; a quick rub then, slipped out of bed and went downstairs.
A Big Change in Lifestyle
I didn’t have to take her coffee up; half an hour later she hobbled down to join me in the kitchen. Evelyn was not very happy. To say she looked a mess would be a gross understatement; my mother was a total wreck.
I was just cleaning up from making my breakfast when she joined me. She stopped beside the kitchen table, leaned on one of the chairs and looked at me. When I asked her if she wanted a coffee, she simply nodded a ‘yes’ in reply. I knew she was debating on whether to sit or, stand and drink it. Sitting won out because she was just too tired to stand.
When I pulled the chair out for her then (just like a few times I’d watched before) she moved to the front of it, crouched a little so that her hands could grip the seat then ... ever so slowly lowered herself onto the seat. She had only slipped into my old shirt and not bothered to button it. As her sore bottom made contact with the seat she closed her eyes and grimaced in pain. When her full weight was on her bottom she sat back a little, arched her back a little and let out a long slow gasp. For a while there wasn’t much conversation at all; Evelyn sat, sipping her coffee slowly, wiping a few stray tears while breathing slow and deep. She did have a very sore little backside ... still.
“Honey,” she began, “I am sorry for what I did ... please forgive me ... please?”
I told her that I had forgiven her; that had happened before the second spanking. I went on to say that, what happened today or, in the future, depended on her. Her attitude and her obedience.
We went on to talk about some other things as she tried, in vain, to find a comfortable way to sit. There wasn’t; her fidgeting continued as we talked.
“In the next few days we’re going to have another little talk about how you’re behaving. Right now you’re going to spend some time in a corner then; spend the rest of the day in your room.” I’ll call you in time for dinner. If you get hungry before that I’ll bring something up to you,” then added, “is that understood?”
She nodded a quick ‘yes’ and sipped more coffee.
I made her a light breakfast; when she was done and, after a slow trip to the powder room to pee, I took her by the arm and led her to a vacant corner in the living room. She spent half an hour standing there, holding the shirt up around her waist, with her spanked bottom on display and her nose firmly in the corner. After that, using an older solid wooden chair, she sat in the corner for an hour. At the end of that time I told her to get up to her room and get back in bed. I would be up to check on her in a while – she was to leave her door open.
I was still debating about making a paddle or not; I had everything to do it and had found that beautiful piece of wood. In the end I decided to wait; to see what would happen in the near future. The multiple spankings had made a profound change in a lot of things so far; I could make the paddle any time.
During dinner we talked about a few other things that could change, or not. One thing was our sleeping arrangements. Although we didn’t talk about it, in my mind, the sex would continue. As far as pregnancy was concerned; we agreed that it was too late to worry about that. We would deal with that, if there was a need in the future. I’d certainly done my part in it ... three times.
In the end it was decided that Evelyn and I would share the same bed. She would begin sleeping in my bed that night.
Then, rather than sending her back to her room, I suggested that we relax and watch some television. I found a jar of cold cream to [finally] apply to her poor bruised backside. Once I sat down on the sofa, Evelyn joined me, tried to find a comfortable position and failed. I suggested that she lay down on her tummy, partially supported across my lap. Once she was in position I applied cold cream to the damaged area.
The one thing I could have done, after the spanking(s) on the first day, would have been to apply some ice cold towels to her bottom. That would have reduced both the bruising and pain quite a bit. The reason I didn’t was simple – I wanted the discomfort to last for a while. The lasting effect of the spanking would be an unwelcome reminder. Even with the application of the cold cream, this wouldn’t change much now.
The area was still pretty tender; there was quite a bit of moaning, gasping and wiggling as I applied the cream. I didn’t worry about where my fingers went; that had all changed now ... by the time I’d finished I was also rock hard. She knew because she was lying on my hard throbbing cock as I worked.
Working on the area between her cheeks then, giving her little sphincter some attention [pushing and probing a little] I asked, “How much anal sex have you had dear?” she had gasped during the probing.
“Not much,” was the answer, “your father did a few times but ... it was always painful as hell.” She had only taken a little of his cock and not for long. As I probed a little more then, eased my middle finger in, her moaning increased, along with a few short gasps. That tiny hole was very tight and, she was tense rather than relaxed. There was a long gasp of relief as I withdrew my finger.
This was going to be very interesting.