Chapter 1: A Mother’s Story

My mother was one of those people who always acted like she was better than everyone else. She was born with all of the advantages; good family, attractive, great body, and the knowledge that she was just plain better than everyone else. Needless to say, it made her into royal bitch. Unfortunately, she was also a royal bitch, that had everyone wrapped around her fingers. I am sure that had nothing to do with the fact that she had an amazing body, that just oozed sexuality and she was not afraid to tease anyone to get her way.

As her son, you would think my life was golden, yes? Definitely not so. I was the product of her scheme to snare and marry a wealthy man. You see, she “accidentally” got pregnant and of course he did the right thing and married her. After a suitable amount of time, she showed her true colors and drove him away.

Of course she acted the part of the loving mother who would die without custody of her dear son, which would also come with a hefty support agreement.

She despised me as the physical reminder of my father. As a result, she was cruel and harsh to me throughout my childhood. Her punishments were often very painful and at times humiliating. As a result, I hated her and harbored deep feelings of resentment and strong desires to pay her back, if I was ever given the chance. It also drove me to leave the house as early as I could, and it drove me to be successful.

It was almost ten years until I saw her again. I heard stories about her over the years, but I never had any interest in inviting her back into my life. It surprised the hell out of me, when she showed up at my door out of the blue. She was crying crocodile tears and begging me to take her in. Apparently, she had lost almost all of the money she got from my father, had burned all other bridges, and because she never finished college after snagging my father, she had no prospects.

I am not a heartless bastard and my first instinct was to feel pity, and want to help a woman in trouble. I am sure that it as the only reason that she tried me, because she knew I was a sentimental person, despite her raising me. However, it didn’t take long for her to show her true colors again and remind me of why I hated and resented her. Unfortunately, I had already let her move into my house and she quickly embedded herself like a tick.

I tried to make the best of the situation, I generally dislike being alone and I was between girlfriends. I went through quite a few of them. I think it had a lot to do with how my mother raised me and my very skewed view of women, based on her as an example. I expected the worst from women and always got it. This is yet another thing on my list of things to repay my mother for.

It was strange to have a woman in my house, who I should have a close relationship with, but who I really only saw as a stranger. It gave me the chance to see her as a woman and not my mother. I definitely see why she is so successful manipulating men. She is petite in a very feminine way, but has nice big tits and a lush ass, both seem strange on a woman so petite. It is like she was sculpted to be the physical embodiment of sex. To make matters worse, she is almost always walking around the house in yoga pants and clinging tops or in her silk robe that just barely covers her ass. I am almost constantly aroused and on the verge of exploding. It is strange to be so excited by a woman who I should feel familial love for, but instead I feel such hate for.

The worst thing for me is the constant flip back and forth between such strong sexual desire and such strong hatred. It is building and building and I don’t know how it is going to end, until that final straw, which not only broke the camel’s back, but dropped the whole camel down on both of our heads. In an explosive mix of rage and sexual desire, both of our futures change irrevocably.

I came home after a particularly stressful day and before I can even change into comfortable clothes and relax for just a second, she launches into me about something ridiculous about the slow internet service or some such nonsense. I go to my room to change out of my work suit, and she just follows me in and continues to rant. When I tell her to back off and give me a chance to relax in my own home, she loses it and starts screaming all kinds of insulting and hurtful things at me. I am ready to snap, when of all things, she calls me a son of a bitch. I start laughing hysterically and she looks at me like I am a crazy person. I say, “You realize that makes you the bitch, right?” and laugh even harder.

Then she does something very stupid. She slaps me as hard as she can across my face. I am stunned into silence and just look at her, as she almost vibrates she is so angry at me. It is in that moment, that 25 years of rage and resentment exploded. I slap her back. It is the first time I have ever struck anyone in anger. I have been involved in a lot of BDSM relationships, but the pain and impact play was always motivated by mutual desire. This is different. She is stunned. She is silent. She is afraid. All things I have never seen her before ... and I like it.

I spent much of my childhood stunned, silent and afraid. In that moment I feel like I am freed from a long imprisonment or something. I fought back against the bully, that ruled me with fear. I am finally in control of my life. I also realize that because of her desperate situation, I am in control of her life now also. In that moment I decide to show her what a bad mother she has been and what happens to bad mothers.

I grab her by her shoulders and shake her. I shout into her face, “You are right, I am a son of a bitch, a royal bitch, a real cunt who is selfish, self centered, and nasty to everyone. She is a bitch who needs to know humility. She is a bitch who needs to be showed how other people feel, as a result of her treatment. She is a bitch, who needs to suffer.” Before she can recover or even understand what I am saying, I sit on the edge of my bed, pull her over my lap, and start to spank her ass as hard as I can with my bare hand.

I am slapping her ass so hard that it is stinging my bare hand. However, I barely notice as I become drunk on the sight of her full round ass, in the tight spandex of her yoga pants. The way her fat ass ripples with each violent slap, the way she yelps and jumps as if trying to escape through my lap, it is all so overwhelming and so very exciting.

As I spank her, I rant at her about what a nasty bitch she is and has always been. I tell her how, that all stops NOW. I am going to make her a decent person or at least someone of use. I am torn between righteous indignation and pure lustful desire. One minute I want to make her a better person and in the next, I want her to be nothing but a sex toy. It is hard to sort years of bad memories and experiences, in a sane and reasonable way. And I am definitely slipping farther toward unreasonable as I start getting hard as a rock, feeling my mother squirm on my lap, as she begs me to stop.

In a moment of clarity, I try to stop my desire and rage, so I yank her off my lap and throw her back on the bed. I hold her wrists in my hands, holding her down. My intent is to get control of myself and stop where my head is going. But when I look down and see the look in my mother’s eyes, I know something drastically has changed. She is looking up at me with this look of wild excitement in her eyes. There is fear and uncertainty, but also this look of unbridled desire.

I know this look well. I have seen this look in the eyes of many women, with whom I shared BDSM relationships. I have seen this look in the eyes of my submissives, my painsluts, and the ones who crave humiliation. It is more than just the desire, it is also the fear of themselves, and what they need, It is the shame of knowing that what they want and need, is not what they should want and need, but they want and need it even more, because of that.

Without another word, I hold her down and crush her lips with mine ... I kiss her passionately, probing her mouth with my tongue ... I shove one hand between her legs, feeling the smooth spandex ... feeling the wetness that I knew I would find, after seeing the look in her eyes...