by starfiend

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, NonConsensual, Reluctant, Rape, Coercion, Incest, Mother, Son, .

Desc: Erotica Sex Story: The story of how a son wakes up his long abused mother to the true delights of sex.

Carol looked briefly up from the cock she was gently sucking, and was shocked again at the sight that greeted her. Somehow, for no explicable reason, it brought all back the carefully suppressed memories.

She had not had a very happy childhood, not because she was mistreated, or anything like that, but because she had, to a certain extent, been ignored. Her brother Ben, older than her by nearly three years, had had Multiple Sclerosis, diagnosed when he was just three months old. Their parents had naturally lavished all their attention on Ben, quite unintentionally ignoring their younger daughter. Carol had loved her brother, particularly because he radiated out such love and happiness, it was impossible not to love him, and in his own way he had loved her.

Ben died shortly after his eighteenth birthday, when Carol was not yet fifteen, and both she and her parents had been dreadfully upset. Unfortunately, her parents had turned in on themselves, leaving Carol to grieve on her own.

By the time she left school at sixteen, her father, a career diplomat, had moved the family to the USA. The move had not helped, so by now she was a little disturbed, and found it difficult to make friends. Just before her seventeenth birthday, and disenchanted by the job she was doing at the local super market, she joined a local commune.

This was the worst mistake of her life, and it didn't take her long to realise it. The commune wasn't a separate entity, it turned out to be part of a much wider network of communes, with people regularly moving from one to another. Everybody in the commune wore simple shifts and boots, and nothing else, not even underwear. At first it was difficult to work out who was who, but after a while she realised that the different colours signified different skills and trades. As an unskilled newcomer she wore plain white.

About three weeks into her stay, and two days before her seventeenth birthday, she was told she was being sent to another camp some seventy miles away, there to be trained to be a camp listener. This puzzled her at first, but she accepted it with equanimity, though she did notice some of the other women giving her odd looks, some of them even steering well clear of her. She put it down to jealousy, but was soon disabused of that notion.

At the new camp she was allowed to settle into her small cell, the first time she had had a room of her own since joining the commune, and then had to see the camp leader.

"Are you a virgin?" was his first abrupt question to her.

She gave a little gasp of surprise before nodding her head.

"All right, take your shift off."


"Take your shift off."

"But ... but..."

He started towards her, an ugly expression on his face, his fists clenched. One fist lashed out and caught her just beneath the eye. "Do as you are fucking well told." he grated.

Carol, crying and in pain, pulled the shift over her head and held it in front of her. The man, who's name she still didn't know, grabbed it and flung it behind her.

"Stand up straight." She did so, sobbing and embarrassed. He grabbed her roughly by the shoulder, ignoring her flinch, and turned her. She was a beautiful young woman, rich dark red/brown hair that reached to her shoulder blades, large brown eyes, small upturned nose, generous mouth that normally smiled readily. Her figure was equally stunning, firm 34b breasts with tiny nipples and huge aureoles, 24 inch waist, and thirty four inch hips, smooth skin, and long shapely legs. The colour of her pubic hair proved that the colour of the hair on her head was completely natural, while her small, shapely, buttocks drew the eye from the rear.

But it was her hair that was her greatest asset, and had now become her greatest enemy, for it was this that the previous camps leaders had seen, and known would make her useful.

"Lie down," he snarled, pointing at a camp bed in the corner.

"What are you going to do?" Quavered Carol in a small voice.

"Lie down." The menace was back, and Carol hurried to obey, fearful of what would come next.

She was right to be afraid, because while her back had been turned, he had removed his own shift, and was now advancing on her, his huge, to her eyes, erection out in front. She began to whimper, terrified now, knowing what was coming. He reached her and pressed her back onto the hard bed, wrenching her knees apart with a brutal strength.

He raped her mercilessly for over an hour, leaving her bruised and bloodied, her spirit totally broken. The last couple of times she'd just lain there and let him do it, her mind just retreating in on itself and ignoring him and the whole world. She was seventeen that day.

She awoke in her cell, instantly remembering the previous day, for she could tell it was now the following day, and began to sob, quietly but uncontrollably. The door opened and at first Carol was terrified that it would be the man who had raped her, instead it was a much younger man, his eyes filled with sorrow and sympathy.

"I'm so sorry," he told her gently, "Ralph should not have done what he did. He has been punished," he said with such a finality to his voice that made Carol wonder. He put a tray onto her bed. "Now eat." He left before she could respond to his statements.

For two days she was ignored except by the young man who brought her in her meals. He refused to tell her anything beyond his name, Peter, and that she would learn everything when she was ready. On the third day she learned just how deep was the hole she was in.

Just after 'breakfast' Peter came back into the room, and instead of departing with her tray, he sat down on the bed in front of her. "You are to become a hand maiden," he told her.

"I was told listener," she murmured.

"It's the same thing. We prefer 'hand maiden' or simply 'maiden' here, but out in the camps you are normally referred to as listeners. It makes outsiders," the term used for everybody not a member of the communes, "think that you are just social workers or something like that. And in a way, you are." He paused for a moment and looked at her. "Do you know anything about our camps?" She shook her head.

He paused and took a deep breath. "Well, as you're probably already aware, the whole movement has just under one hundred thousand members world wide, just under half of them here in north America., including Canada and Mexico. We have communes in Europe and Australia, two in Brazil, a couple in South Africa and one each in Japan, South Korea, Thailand and the Philippines. The one we had in Hong Kong was closed down when the chinks took over back in '97, most of those members are either in hiding or in prison. A few escaped to other countries, including this one.

"The other thing you should know, is that there are far more men than women in the system, in fact, for every woman, there are around seventeen men. This means that most men will never get a partner. This in turn means that for all the other sixteen men, something has to be done. But if one woman has a partner, there are thirty three men vying for the next woman. In fact it's far worse than that. if we have one thousand men, that's about 58 women. If fifty seven of those men have partners, that leaves just one woman for the other nine hundred and forty three. Given that we have somewhere in the region of ninety four thousand men, and about five and a half thousand of them have partners, that leaves eighty eight and a half thousand men for the remaining 95 or so women." He stared at her for a moment, and then told her, in a quiet voice, the worst news.

"There's a month's training to start off with, but then after that, for the first eight months or so, you will have at least one thousand men between your legs. You will treat them nicely, you will give them pleasure, and you will do it." His voice turned a little hard as he spoke the last sentence. "After that, you will have one month off to rest, but there will be a one week refresher course in there if we think it's necessary, and then you will go around the smaller camps, along with a small group of others, and you will do the same for all the camps who do not have permanent hand maidens. After about a year of this, you will be brought back here, and the cycle will begin again.

"There will be a three week training period starting today, followed by one week off. After that, for the next eight months, thirty three weeks, you will have forty men a week for three weeks, then a week off timed for your menses. After that, the standard rate will be raised to forty five men a week. During your camp tour though, you may be lucky and have as little as twenty men a week, with longer breaks between, but you are far more likely to be hitting the maximum."

"This camp has eight maidens based here, simply because it is one of the largest. Four are here permanently, the other four, which may be a different four each time, are often out at the various smaller camps. If a camp is not big enough to support at least three, then it has none, and has to wait for the peripatetic maidens. Strictly, this camp needs six, but by having eight here half the year, and four here for the remainder, we cope both here, and with the smaller camps. You'll be our ninth, and we've had authorisation from the Philippines, to recruit and maintain a tenth. In a few cases, camps send us a girl for training, and we send them back a year later, fully trained and experienced.

.... There is more of this story ...

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Consensual / NonConsensual / Reluctant / Rape / Coercion / Incest / Mother / Son /