Chapter 7

I woke up the next morning feeling most of my joints aching. The moment I tried to move, the shooting pain in my back made me cease any further attempts at getting out of bed, though I had to ask myself how this was even possible. Slowly, I tried to at least roll onto my back, but something held me in place.

Finally, I opened my eyes and understood why I was so sore: It seemed like Mom had me in such a fierce hold, I didn’t move even an inch during the entire night. She still had her arms wrapped around my torso, with her hands flat on my shoulder blades on my back, holding me close to her as her own head rested on my upper arm.

However, while her regular, slow, and deep breathing told me that she was fast asleep, it soon became clear what had woken me up. Every once in a while, she would twitch, her hold on me would momentarily intensify, and, even though her face was hidden in my shirt, I could just about see her brows slightly knit. It didn’t quite seem like she was having a nightmare, but whatever it was she dreamed about, it wasn’t nice either.

I remembered one of those cat videos the women in the coffee kitchen kept gushing over and, with a grin, wrapped my free arm around her head and cradled it against me. Her body twitched a lot stronger this time, but as soon as she realized where she was and who she was with, she relaxed with a sigh.

“Paulie,” I heard her quiet voice as she let me hold her, and that was enough for me to guess what she had been dreaming about.

Another bout of embarrassment came upon me as the same realization as last night came to me again. If I had managed to deal with my crap sooner, maybe I could have dealt with Dick sooner, and we would be in a very different situation now.

However, I also recognized that my resentment towards Mom wasn’t non-existent, despite last night’s breakthrough while forcing myself to relive the memories of my past. In my mind, she finally transitioned from an accessory to my abuse to just another victim. I wasn’t angry anymore, ... but I still held some resentment over her apparent need to yield to someone, which landed us in Dick’s grasp. I just couldn’t help it. I guess that was one of the first things I’d have to work on if I decided to try and rebuild an actual mother-son relationship with her.

It also caused my resolve to destroy Senator Dick to grow stronger than ever.

“Good morning, Pau ... So...” she finally tried to say, though her apparent insecurity over how she was supposed to address me now gave me pause.

“Call me what you feel comfortable with,” I said and felt her nod. “Though, I kinda want to ask you something that I couldn’t understand yesterday.”

I paused for a moment because, as I suddenly thought, what I wanted to ask wasn’t exactly something you spring onto someone who just woke up. However, my silence made her tense up again.

“What is it ... Paulie?”

“That. You’re calling me ‘Paulie’ now. But I’m kinda asking myself why you started calling me that during ... you know ... when I was doing that to you, of all times.”

“Oh.” She thought about it for a second, though it seemed like there was hesitation in her demeanor. She wasn’t debating what she wanted to say, but rather how much. “Well ... there are two reasons. That co-worker of yours. The young one. Ava’s brother.”

“Tim?”

“Yes, Tim. When I spoke with Ava, she said that they also had to work hard to get him back. And, when we were at their house, I got a chance to speak with their mother. And ... well ... they told me that they only made real progress after they got him to let out all of his anger.”

Just for a moment, I mentally debated whether or not I wanted to ask her for potentially embarrassing details of Tim’s private life. In no time, however, I decided that I absolutely wanted to know embarrassing details of Tim’s private life and tease him about it.

“Really. And what exactly does that mean?” I said with an overly interested tone while grinning. Something that wasn’t lost on Mom. She, again, hesitated for a second after noticing my expression, but I guess her conditioning was still too strong to outright deny answering my question. Curiously, though, she did try to work her way around it.

“They ... were in bed one evening, and ... it went the same way as with us when you took me to the bedroom the day before yesterday.” I had to blink at the shyness and insecurity in her voice when she was torn between obeying me by answering my question and respecting someone else’s privacy and secrets. Though, she quickly continued as if she was hoping I wouldn’t inquire any further. “So, when you finally took me, I was happy. Not just because I could finally give you pleasure, but because I knew that, if you had anger to let out on me, there was hope.”

I was NOT sure whether I understood what she had just told me. And, if she meant what she said the way I understood it, I was not sure it was a good thing. Even when she was probably right, and, without that incident, there would never have been a chance for me to finally work through my main problem, I still felt bad that it was even necessary.

“Well,” I started after deciding to simply not get into this at the moment. “I’m kinda hungry. Let’s get breakfast.”

Now her eyes grew wide before her head whipped around to look at the alarm clock on the nightstand.

“Oh, no! I’m so sorry! I can’t believe I slept this long!” she started apologizing again. Me, however, I had the quick thought that her sleeping unusually long while being wrapped in an embrace with me, wasn’t exactly something a woman should ever apologize for.

She quickly untangled herself from me to jump out of the bed and all but ran into the bathroom. I used that opportunity to finally stretch my joints and get those aches out of my limbs. Then I walked into the kitchen and started to fry some eggs.

While Mom’s cooking, even when I still hated her guts, was something I enjoyed more than anything, given my newfound resolve, it felt weird to just sit on my ass while waiting for her to man the kitchen and serve me again. Or ... at least not until we had a proper talk about how the hell we were supposed to proceed from here. So, by the time she came rushing out of her bedroom, I had the table set with a readily waiting serving of sunny side-ups, bacon, and toast. Nowhere near as tasty as what she was capable of, but it would do.

“You ... made breakfast already?” she asked. I could be wrong, but there wasn’t just confusion in her voice. It also sounded like she was disappointed but tried to hide it. I also noted that she was, once again, standing in front of me wearing nothing but her sexy underwear.

“Yeah. I might never be as good as you, but I can make some eggs. And there’s no need to wait for you to come out of the bathroom and make something when I’m already here and ... well ... can just make some eggs.”

“No need...” she repeated my words in a quiet and slow manner, telling me that this was a completely new way of thinking for her. Then she surprised me once more as she suddenly looked down on herself and seemed to study her ‘outfit’.

“Come on, Mom, sit down. Eat.”

The moment I said those words, all confusion and insecurity vanished from her expression before she quickly followed my instructions. It was apparent, though, that she was not happy

“So...” I said, not quite sure how to start that conversation. “We never finished our talk in the evening.”

Now she slowly dropped her hand that she had brought up to her mouth to take a bite of her toast. Then she folded her hands in her lap and looked at me with the same sadness and worry in her eyes as I had seen last night.

“You have no need to apologize, Son.” I noted the sudden and curious switch from ‘Paulie’, as she had chosen to call me after waking up, back to ‘Son’. I guess she chose to be formal for this conversation. “Your feelings were ... are ... well deserved. I married Richard because I was drawn to the very characteristics that should have told me to stay away from him. And I brought my little boy with me. It was my fault.”

Again, I couldn’t tell her otherwise. In fact, I opted to stray away from that topic until I was ready to deal with it. I just found some peace with her, and I just managed to stop blaming her for Dick abusing me. It would be some time before I could address this topic without my lingering resentment making it seem like I still blamed her.

“Well, the main thing I wanted to pick up on was how we should continue from here on out,” I said and took a bite from my toast, partly to give her a chance to speak up, which she didn’t, and partly to decide on how to address the really important topic. “I understand that you ... want to make me happy. And I think that, after I finally came to terms with all the shit in my head, ... I would like it.”

Mom showed me a rather peculiar reaction to what I just told her. At first, her body had grown completely stiff while she looked at me. Then, however, her eyes slowly widened while her mouth slightly opened before her entire expression lit up. It was like a ton of weight had been lifted off her shoulders as she sat upright and unintentionally (I think) pushed her breasts in my direction. That, however, was dampened when I continued.

“Though ... I’m not sure if we should ... you know ... continue that way.”

Now she looked outright distraught, and that also found its way into her voice.

“Why!?” she called out, causing me to sigh heavily.

“I feel like I’m using you. Like he did.”

Her eyes were huge as she pulled her head back, like I threw an insult in her face and she couldn’t believe what she just heard. This obviously was completely unexpected.

“NO!” her loud voice startled me. “Son, no! You ... I told you yesterday, I will be good to you and make you happy in any way I can! I want to!” As if finding some kind of resolve, she pushed her chair back, jumped up, and rushed around the table to kneel at my side before taking hold of my hands. “Son, I don’t just want to do this for you to make up for my past mistakes. I ... need it. I always needed it. It’s who I am. I need to please you to ... to feel good myself.”

Those last four words came out as a whisper but thundered through my head as if she had screamed them at me. This was the answer to a question I had asked myself repeatedly over the past week when wondering why she stayed with the Dick.

She just admitted that, in order to have fun herself, she needed to be submissive to her partner. And, despite having suspected it for the longest time, now I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do with this information. Because, as I realized last night, I did enjoy it despite worrying about continuing what Dick started.

Even now, while worrying about this very problem, I felt my dick harden uncontrollably when seeing her kneel next to me while begging to be allowed to please me. Something that wasn’t lost on Mom either, as her eyes dropped to my crotch. All of a sudden, there was a serious gleam in her eyes.

“Are you sure?” I asked after a moment of contemplation.

“Yes, Son! Please, please, tell me to make you feel good!” she pleaded in desperation, and whatever doubts I may still had were now overshadowed by the view of my mother’s full breasts, perfectly set in scene by that lacy bra she wore, while she looked at me with her big, sad, blue eyes.

I swallowed.

“Fine. Get under the table, Mom. You can make it up to me that I had to make breakfast today.”

As I said it, I was seriously worried about having made a mistake, or formulating my command in a way that put her off, or saying something that would cause problems later on ... but the moment her eyes widened once more as a sultry smile spread her lips, I stopped caring.

“Yes, Son,” she said happily before lowering her head slightly without breaking eye contact, to now look up at me in a meek and apologetic way. “I understand. I’m sorry for my tardiness. I will do better. Please continue enjoying your meal.”

And with that, she went on all fours, crawled under the table, and, two seconds later, I felt her hands on my knees to spread my legs. I followed her advice and tried to continue eating, though I faltered a little when I felt her delicate hands fumble with my sweatpants to pull my dick out of my pants, and almost choked when, without a second’s delay, felt her moist lips pressed against my tip.

I moaned as I felt something very soft and very wet touch the tip of my dick before something equally soft and wet was placed in a circle just above the bottom of my crown. Next, it felt like my tip was being pulled off my cock as that mellow ring pressed against it. All the while, I heard gurgling sounds of bliss emanating from below the table.

All of this was weirdly exciting! In the absence of any visual stimuli, everything I felt was intensified. I constantly tried to mentally visualize what exactly she was doing to inflict those sensations on me, and what my head came up with was a lot more depraved than what I could have seen. I kept imagining my mother, with a face morphed in lust, as all she ever wanted was to treasure the taste of my cock.

At first, I didn’t even understand why I was actually trying to keep eating my breakfast while having my cock serviced. I quickly understood, though, that acting like it was perfectly normal to have my breakfast enhanced with a blowjob, somehow added this satisfying twist to the whole ordeal that stopped me from leaning back in my chair and enjoying the sensations. As she continued in her task, though, it finally came to me. The words ‘king of my castle’ were probably the best way to describe what this did to me. I didn’t need to see the beautiful woman in sexy lingerie worshipping my cock. The knowledge that she would do that for me, for no other reason than to give me pleasure, not expecting anything in return, was a massive stroke of my ego.

Setting up a rhythm, I felt her cushy lips glide up and down my shaft slowly, though every once in a while I felt that heavenly ring of pleasure glide so far down my shaft that the tip of my dick seemed to hit a warm wall. Every time that happened, I felt the spongy texture of her tongue massage the bottom of my shaft for a few seconds before she would pull back to continue slowly bobbing her head.

“God! Mom!” I finally failed to stay composed and heard a popping sound as I felt her mouth release me.

“Please, Son, just enjoy yourself. Don’t worry about me. When you feel like coming, just let your mother eat it all. I couldn’t wish for a better breakfast treat than my son’s cream.”

The way she emphasized ‘your mother’ answered another question I had asked myself. She certainly enjoyed the incest angle in all of this. Though, given how I unsuccessfully suppressed another moan as she spoke to me in that depraved way, and given how I was the one who made her call me ‘Son’ in the first place, maybe she was doing that for me. Either way, I saw no reason to complain!

Suddenly, there was nothing slow and careful about her stimulation anymore. The moment I felt her lips close around me again, I felt them run up and down my cock with determination while loud slurping and sucking sounds filled the room. The vacuum her mouth created also increased in strength. So much, in fact, that I was tempted to look underneath the table and check if that was really just her mouth doing it.

Her tongue warped and coiled itself around my member, and I imagined her large breasts swaying back and forth as they followed the rocking motion of her body. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. That mental image was just too much. I dropped my toast, reached underneath the table, and took hold of her wavy hair to guide her movement. Against all my earlier worries, she moaned in approval when she felt my fingers weave around her hair and use it to guide her speed.

And, after roughly two minutes of this, I felt my orgasm approaching.

Remembering the feeling of her very first blowjob, and encouraged by what she had told me before, I grabbed her hair and roughly pulled her head down to slam into her throat. She did not resist in any way, and neither did her throat. In fact, the moment she felt my hands take hold of her, her own hands ceased supporting her attempts to maximize my pleasure so they wouldn’t be in the way once I shoved her down. She knew exactly what would happen and she was perfectly fine with it.

The moment I felt my tip scrape along her tonsils and hit the back of her throat, I heard her gag and cough. Instantly, my hand released her hair to allow her to pull back ... but she didn’t. Instead, she even fought to take more of me into her mouth and I felt the strong contractions of her upper sphincter massage the first three inches from my tip as she battled her gag reflex. It was an indescribable feeling. Too many sensations flooded into me, too much stimulation pushed me along, and I erupted deep inside her throat, shooting my cum directly into her stomach while she gurgled her approval.

Outwardly, she remained motionless the entire time my orgasm played out. Only when she felt that my dick was no longer twitching and spasming inside its tight, wet confines, did she slowly pull back. But, as she did, she reapplied that perfect seal around my shaft and sucked all the way up to my tip, making sure to not leave a single drop of sperm to potentially stain my clothes.

I was panting by the time she was done, and an uncontrollable twitch ran through my legs as I felt an extra strong vacuum pull on my now very sensitive tip before she finally released me.

“Did I please you, Son?” I heard her voice from underneath the table after a few very audible swallowing noises.

“Yes, Mom. That was very good.” I was still out of breath, but she must have heard in my voice how pleased I was.

“Thank you, Son. I’m glad I could be of use.” Surprisingly, she sounded – and looked – rather pleased with herself. “Do you want me to stay down here, in case you need another release before you finish your breakfast?”

That made me blink a few times. If her tone and voice weren’t perfectly communicating how satisfied she was about satisfying me, the words alone would have made me believe I was even worse than Dick.

“No, Mom. Thank you. Please come out and have something proper to eat.”

She carefully tucked me back into my pants after kissing my tip goodbye and crawled out from under the table to stand next to me. Her hands were, once again, folded in front of her, with her head bowed. As if she got some kind of signal, though, she suddenly lifted her head to regard me with a brilliant smile as she unceremoniously dropped her servant act.

“Thank you, Paulie.”

And then she sat down and continued eating as if nothing special had happened.

Maybe I was overthinking this, but it seemed to me like the sudden switch in how she addressed me confirmed my earlier impression. She called me ‘Paulie’ when she woke up and recognized me. Then she switched to the more formal ‘Son’ during the important talk and when ‘fulfilling her duty’. And now, that those things were out of the way and we could just be mother and son again, I was back to being ‘Paulie’.

“Alright,” I said after gathering myself and deciding to handle the situation like she was: By not acting like anything out of the ordinary had just occurred. “Now that this is out of the way, we need to talk about the case.”

She raised her head and looked at me in apparent interest.

“Tim managed to get a copy of your signatures for those bank accounts,” I continued but stopped when I saw her brows furrow.

“Bank accounts?”

“Yeah. Your accounts at Schrader Bank & Trust and at that bank in Gibraltar that those four million were transferred to.”

“Oh. Right.” She blinked for a moment. “But I never opened that account with that bank in Gibraltar. How do they have my signature?”

“That’s a really good question, Mom.” I grinned. “One that is actually the next point on my list of things I tend to find out. I believe you when you say that you didn’t open that new account, but I’m afraid we’ll have to prove it for everyone else. The easiest way would be to get a sample of your signature and have it compared with what that bank in Gibraltar has on file.”

“Can’t you use the signature from Schrader?” she asked after a moment of thinking.

“Well, I’m honestly not sure about that one. First of all, we didn’t exactly get those files legitimately. To get them legitimately, we’d have to request them officially. Not only could that take forever if they don’t want to give them out, but once Dick learns what we’re going for, he could interfere. He could switch the signature Schrader has on file with whatever he sent to Gibraltar. Or, worst case scenario, the signature Schrader has on file is what he sent to Gibraltar. A good graphologist would still be able to determine whether the signature was traced or photocopied, though. At least that’s what I was told by a graphologist when I worked with him for another case.”

“Really? How do they do that?”

The moment I said that last sentence, she leaned slightly towards me as it positively looked like she completely forgot about her breakfast. I couldn’t help but smile a little. It could be my imagination, but it didn’t seem like she was eager to learn about the specifics of her defense. It was more like she was eager to learn about my job and the things I learned and experienced during the four years we had been separated.

“Well, I’m told that, no matter how hard you try, no two genuine signatures will ever be the same. There are a million things influencing the way you move your hand while signing something. Your posture, how much space you have, the surface the document is placed on, and even the shape of the pen. And then there are differences in how the pen writes, like what kind of ink it uses or what type of paper you’re writing on. So, they’ll probably want you to sign something a few times in succession, analyze everything we gave them, and then compare their findings with what the bank in Gibraltar has. But we should also give them a copy of something you signed before we obtained that lead, to not have them claim you just provided us with a different signature.”

“Oh.” She suddenly looked down at her plate in an almost dejected manner. “Well, the only things I signed since I married Richard would be the paperwork for our marriage, for the bank account at Schrader, and the paperwork with Mr. Breston. And deliveries, of course.”

I blinked for a moment. The paperwork for their marriage! They also used her marriage certificate instead of a photo ID to open that bank account.

“Right! I completely forgot about your marriage contract! Thanks, Mom! That’s gonna be a huge help!”

“It ... it will?” As she asked this, she half raised her head so her eyes could jump from her plate to my face and back. It looked as if she was hopeful to have been of use but was still somehow afraid of actually voicing that hope.

“Yes. If you truly barely signed anything, and we could gather as many of those old signatures as we can, maybe we can even find out where they copied it from to open that bank account. I better call Breston right now. There’s other things I need to discuss with him, maybe he can take some time in the afternoon for a face-to-face meeting.”

I half expected her to ask some more questions, but she didn’t. I honestly couldn’t tell whether she wasn’t interested, wanted to avoid the questions because she was already scared enough, or if my tone sounded too commanding and she simply accepted that I, as ‘the man of the house’, had to take care of something that didn’t concern her.

Breston sounded very interested when I brought him up to speed, though. I didn’t have a chance to inform him about the break-in the day before and, when I did mention it, he sounded surprisingly eager to meet in person this afternoon. I proposed Tim’s office as the meeting place again, which he accepted without a word of protest before he had to end the call to ‘make arrangements’.

I spent the following few hours monitoring the Senator’s car through the tracking app. Something I fully planned on asking Tim about because I just couldn’t believe how fast they got that done. Mom, meanwhile, busied herself with cleaning the apartment from top to bottom, washing clothes, and cooking food.

Please believe me when I say: Never in a million years would I expect a woman to behave like a housewife out of a TV commercial from the 1950s. But I also couldn’t deny how much I enjoyed suddenly having one. Especially since, every time that thought popped up in my mind and I started watching her with a slightly uncomfortable expression, she seemed to sense my discomfort. She then walked up to where I sat and started to either massage my shoulders, offer to prepare a snack, or bring me something to drink and tell me how thankful she was for the chance to be a proper mother to me. Every time she said those words, I no longer cared about her also acting like a real-life June Cleaver.

And, yes, she spent the first fifteen minutes of our lunchtime under the table again, though, this time, she took her time to simply make me feel good instead of pushing me towards a release, which is why it took so much longer than at breakfast.

At about two p.m., I received a text message from Tim, informing me that he was now on his way to the office. Knowing it would take me at least as long as him to reach it, I could get going.

“Alright,” I said loudly, ensuring I had Mom’s attention. “I need to go to the office for the meeting with Breston. You wanna come with?”

For some reason I didn’t immediately understand, she blinked at me in confusion before opening her mouth with a surprised face.

“I ... Would that be fine, Paulie? I wouldn’t be in the way?” she asked insecurely.

“Of course you can. This is your case, after all.”

“Oh! I understand. I will make sure to make myself presentable.”

There it was again. That word the Dick always used to tell her she looked good enough to be paraded around his associates like a trophy, without actually saying that she looked good enough to be considered a trophy. Or even that she looked good at all. Hearing it from her, in the context of going out with me this time, seriously rubbed me the wrong way.

“Mom!” I called after her in a stern voice before she could enter her bedroom, and then waited until she turned around to look at me with a slightly worried expression. An expression that was no doubt brought upon her by the tone I had used, now expecting to be scolded in some way. “You’re fucking beautiful. Even when I woke up next to you this morning, before you went to the bathroom and dolled yourself up, you were already beautiful.”

Seeing her expression turn from worry to confusion and then to utter shock, I turned around to walk into my own bedroom and get some clothes. When I came out of the bedroom on my way to the bathroom, though, she was still standing in front of her door, having not moved an inch since I said that to her. I looked at her for a few seconds before she seemingly found the courage to speak meekly.

“A-Are you ... Do you really think so, Paulie?”

“Yes. You’re much more than just presentable. Don’t use that word with me again.”

Another few seconds of her staring in disbelief went by before she gave me a jerked nod and turned to get dressed. When she came out of her bedroom, however, I was taken aback at how she looked. She was a vision to behold! Her hair was done up in some loose twisted bun, which looked simple and yet elegant. Her make-up was subtle but made her skin look flawless and perfect. The only thing standing out in her choice of make-up was the bright red she used for her lips, which caused my eyes to constantly look at them and think about how they felt pressed against my own.

“Damn...” I breathed out after a moment of stunned silence, and I could see the faintest little smile curl her lips upon hearing it. Then she walked up to me, hooked herself to my arm, and we both left the apartment.

After arriving at Tim’s office and making sure our phones were turned off, I found out that we weren’t alone.

“Hello, Paul,” Bill greeted me after looking up from a bunch of paperwork he was reading. “And Ms. Anderson. It’s very nice to see you again.”

Mom’s reaction was to hold on to my arm a little stronger before bowing her head slightly to return my boss’s greeting.

“Should we come back later?” I asked, not sure why Bill was even here, though he quickly set me straight.

“No, you’re right on time so we can talk in confidence before the others arrive. I’m here for your case,” he explained, and I noted him saying ‘the others’ instead of just Breston. I decided there were more pressing questions, though.

“So, I just have to ask,” I started before waving the cheap Chinese Smartphone with the tracker app towards Tim. “How the hell did you pull that off?”

“Not that complicated,” he said, causing Bill to snort. I looked at him for an explanation.