Chapter 13

When I woke up, Pam’s bedside clock read a few minutes after four. I backed away from her warm body and slid out of bed, but my movement must have awakened her; because she rolled over onto her back and stifled a yawn.

“You told mom to dress slutty for dinner; do you want me to do the same?”

“I think you know I’m going to be with her after dinner tonight, so wear whatever you like as long as it includes high heels.”

“Yes, Sir, I’ll do that,” she replied with a grin. “I know it’s her turn again, and I promise not to be jealous.”

“Good,” I told her sincerely. The last thing I need is for either of them to be jealous of the other. I leaned over the bed to kiss her and then picked up the clothes I’d discarded earlier and went down the hall to my own room. Given what I intended to happen later, I decided to go commando; I pulled on Dockers and a polo and slid my feet into a pair of loafers without bothering with socks.

When I exited my room, Pam was standing in the hall waiting for me, so we went downstairs together. She was wearing a nice blouse and skirt combination and, as I’d specified, high heels. Even though she knew I’d be spending the night with mom, I could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra, and I figured she probably wasn’t wearing panties either.

We went to the dining room entrance and surveyed the scene. Our mom was setting the table wearing a black halter-neck club dress. At that moment, she was standing sideways to me, so I could see that the front of her dress was cut down almost to her navel, showing a lot of her big breasts, and her back was completely bare to her waist. The dress hugged her hips but then flared out; it ended about a third of the way down her thighs and swirled around her legs when she moved. Her black high-heeled pumps were even taller than the mules she’d been wearing earlier in the day. Mom usually wore subtle pink lipstick, but tonight her bright shade matched the red soles of her shoes.

I sat down at the head of the table, the place where my dad sat when he was home, and Pam helped mom bring the food out from the kitchen. Then they stood, mom to my right and Pam to my left, waiting submissively for me to direct them. “You both look beautiful,” I said.

“Thank you, Sir,” they replied together, and when I nodded, they seated themselves. Each of them picked up a serving utensil and put portions of each item on my plate, and then they served themselves.

As we ate and chatted casually about nothing important, I couldn’t stop thinking about what their behavior and their manner of speaking was telling me. My mom is treating me with respect and subservience, and Pam is being the same way. Both of them are acknowledging my dominance, and my mom is signaling that she expects me to be in charge tonight.

When we all put down our forks, Pam rose and stood close by my side. “I’ll clean up,” she said, and she smiled at mom and then at me. “You two have a good time this evening.”

“Thank you, Pam,” I responded, and I slid my hand up her leg and rested it on her bare ass, confirming that she wore nothing under her skirt. She wiggled her bottom, then bent down and kissed me on the cheek.

“Have fun, Big Brother. I’ll be thinking of you.”

“Don’t just think, you have fun too,” I told her.

“Oh, I will. See you both tomorrow.” She stepped back so I could stand up, and I pushed my chair away from the table. I walked behind my mom’s chair and pulled it back so she could rise, and she did and took my hand in hers. She bowed her head and I led her up to her bedroom.

There was no pretense of shyness or coyness; as soon as I’d closed the door behind me, my mom was on me, kissing me ravenously and pressing her breasts against my chest and her belly into my groin. She opened her lips wide and I pushed my tongue forward, pushing hers back, and she moaned against my mouth. I took my mouth off of hers and licked up the side of her neck, and she groaned. “God, Alex, after last night, you’ve had me hot for you all day; my pussy is dripping wet already.”

From everything I’d read online, I knew that to be successful at this dominance thing I had to assert myself, and she’d given me the opening I needed. “Is that how you should be addressing me... Mandy?”

She visibly shivered when I said that name. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry, Sir, I’m so ready I forgot myself.”

“Well, I think there have to be penalties for that kind of mistake.” I pointed to the end of the bed. “Bend over and put your hands on the covers.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said meekly, and when she’d assumed the position, I flipped the hem of her dress up to her waist. “At least you followed that instruction.”

“Of course, Sir,” she said, and she turned her head and gave me a seductive smile. “Don’t you want to check out how ready I am for you?”

She’s trying to distract me, I thought, or maybe to test me. I forced myself to keep my face calm and serious. If I wasn’t feeling so confident, it would probably have worked. “I do ... and I will...” I let those words hang in the air before adding, “ ... as soon as I’ve punished you for your inappropriate use of my name.” I leaned over and spoke softly into her ear. “Where’s the riding crop?”

“Oh, please, no, Sir, please just spank me, I’ll be good forever, please, not that, Sir.”

I couldn’t tell whether she was really unhappy about the question or just playing some kind of head game and faking distress, but I knew that, at this early stage of our relationship, I couldn’t back down. “Where is it?” I repeated.

“She hung her head down. “It’s in your father’s chest, fourth drawer down,” she whispered.

I walked over and got it out, then asked her another question. “Does he use this for pleasure or for punishment?”

“He uses it for both purposes.”

“Does he use the rod on you like a cane, or just the tip?”

“He does both.”

“I saw a ball gag in the drawer with the crop; does he gag you when he uses it?”

“Only if one of you is around; otherwise, he likes to hear me cry out.”

“I think I’ll like that too.”

Needless to say, I’d never used a crop or any other kind of BDSM implement, so I knew I had to be careful. But I knew I had to use it on her, if only for symbolic reasons, so I stood beside her hip and swung it lightly so the flap on the end just touched her firm round left ass cheek. She didn’t react, so I swung it again, slightly harder, and hit her other ass cheek, and she made a soft mmm sound. I figured that meant it wasn’t hurting her, and this was supposed to be punishment, so I swung more, harder each time, alternating cheeks in a slow rhythm, until she said, “Owww, that hurts.”

“Good, it’s supposed to,” I said, and then I gave her another two quick strokes.

“Owww, please, Sir, that really hurts,” she cried, and I hit her two more times. Despite the red marks I was creating, I didn’t think I was hitting her all that hard, but after the second one she started pleading for mercy. “Please, Sir, you’ve made your point, please let me please you now.”

I ran my fingers over her pussy lips and felt wetness. “Have I made my point? It seems like you’ve been enjoying this. Do I need to hit you even harder for it to seem like punishment?”