Chapter 11

Opening my eyes the next morning, the first thing I saw was Mom’s smiling face. It seemed like, during the night, we had both turned onto our sides so we were facing each other. Something I was rather thankful for, as I suddenly remembered the way I usually woke up when sharing my bed with her. Which was me being her big spoon. This would have certainly caused a shitload of teasing comments from whoever was now watching the live feed of our... my temporary bedroom.

“Mornin’,” I greeted her, returning her smile. “How long ‘ve you been awake?”

“A few minutes,” was all she cared to say. She didn’t see a need to comment on her watching me sleep with a contented smile on her face.

Though, the next thing I realized was that she had just watched me sleep with a contented smile on her lips. She made no move to serve my morning wood. She made no move to serve me breakfast in bed. She was just happy to be near me.

“How late is it anyways?” I asked, rolling onto my back to reach for my phone on the nightstand, coming to a halt when I saw the clock. “Wow. Almost ten. Guess we’re getting kinda lazy with nothing to do.”

Curiously, Mom didn’t comment on this in any way. Neither did she say anything, nor did her expression change. She just kept watching me with that smile on her lips that now seemed a little weird.

“Wanna help me make breakfast?” I asked in an attempt to elicit some form of reaction out of her.

I got that reaction. Her smile widened and her eyes seemed to twinkle a little before she eagerly nodded and jumped out of bed. I could have sworn I heard a quiet giggle when she left. This was ... weird. But a good weird. I think.

Just as I got out of bed while trying not to alert my watching colleagues to the fact that I had been lying in bed with my mother while sporting a firm erection, my phone rang. It was Bill.

“Good morning, Bossman!” I greeted him in a much happier and more relaxed tone than I could have produced a few weeks ago, which he effortlessly picked up on.

“Good morning to you too, my most unproductive employee!” It sounded like a sarcastic remark. I could be wrong, though. “At least you finally sound better. I take it things are looking up on your end?”

I hesitated. There was more than just sarcasm in his voice. Something was annoying him, and it wasn’t me or my absence from work.

“Yeah. Mom and I are getting along better. We’re ... we’re having our first therapy session today. Tim’s introducing us to someone.”

“Ah! So that’s what he was talking about. He won’t make it.”

“What? Why?” Now I became rather concerned.

“He asked me to tell you. The feds finally decided to show up. And they did by pulling him out of class at the same time they shoved a search warrant for his office in my face.”

“They ... WHAT!?”

“Yeah, yeah, calm down. Tim screamed enough for the both of us already. Though, he used a lot more flowery language than both of us combined would. It’s standard procedure. They’re responding to the report he wrote about the trojan you guys found in the banks’ systems and want to make sure he didn’t place it there himself or used that access for his own entertainment. He has nothing to worry about ... apart from being the talk of the whole school for the next week or so.” The man actually chuckled at the end, though it still didn’t sound particularly happy. I had a feeling Tim didn’t worry about his reputation at school but would die of an anger aneurysm once he saw what they did to his office.

“Huh. At least that explains why you’re sounding that annoyed,” I commented while contemplating this information. Though, Bill quickly floored me again.

“The hell! I’m annoyed because now I gotta give the little shit a raise, ” he grumbled. “The agent that showed up to interview me started out with reasonable questions. Like, why I have someone working in a security firm who hasn’t even managed to finish high school yet. By the end, though, he let on that they’re gonna offer him a place at their CyD once he graduates.”

“Uh, Bill, you know there’s no way in hell he’s gonna leave us and his family to take a job with the FBI, right?”

“Of course he won’t! But what he WILL do is dangling that job offer in front of me, never shutting up about how ‘valuable’ he is.”

That made me laugh. I could see Tim weave little jabs about this into every single conversation they’re going to have from now on.

“Well, it tells us one thing though. Tim’s report checked out, otherwise they wouldn’t be interested in him. That means, whoever the senator hired to do this dirty work, didn’t remove the trojan from those systems and the FBI managed to verify its existence.”

“Not necessarily, ” Bill quickly threw in. “The way I see it, they checked out his report the day they got it from the lawyer. It only took them a week before showing up at the office. It makes no difference for you or your mother’s case, though. If you need any more from the bank’s systems, you’ll have to have the lawyer subpoena them. But that would have been true either way since the FBI would be looking over your shoulder now.”

“True.”

“The feds looking over your shoulder DOES make a difference for you personally, though. The agent I spoke with also had a lot of questions about your mother and her relationship with Carver. I’ve shown them the video from your Dash Cam, so they know that his death wasn’t an accident, even if we still don’t know who we saw on that recording. The consequence is that they have an invested interest in your mother’s testimony. So ... expect them to keep an eye on you two.”

“Oh.”

I had hoped we could move back into my apartment once Dick got arrested, which shouldn’t take too long now. Then we would have been able to enjoy life without being constantly watched. With the FBI watching us, though...

“Anyways, ” Bill continued. “I’m happy to hear you took my advice. Call me after your therapy session and tell me how it went.”

“Uh ... sure,” I said, unsure where that came from.

Yes, I knew the man genuinely cared for the people under his employment, and me especially. And, yes, I knew he was the one who told me to get therapy in the first place. But, somehow, at the back of my mind, I still had trouble believing that he wouldn’t have any problem with me being off work for even longer. However, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking about, he spoke up again.

“And don’t worry too much about your job, Paul. I’ll bill your mother if it makes you feel better, but, right now, you need to take care of yourself. Let’s see how the therapy goes for now, then we’ll figure out how you can work from home. Most of the research you do is over the internet anyways.”

He chuckled by the end, and I joined right in. Somehow, a lot of tension I didn’t even know I felt left my body.

“Alright. Thanks, Bill.”

After hanging up the phone and taking a few deep breaths, I finally jumped out of bed, put on some pants, and moved into the kitchen where Mom was already busy pouring batter into a hot pan.

“Sorry! Work call,” I quickly explained while grabbing plates to set the table.

“Don’t worry, Paulie. Everything alright?”

“The FBI finally showed up, Tim’s throwing a hissy fit, and the Boss is annoyed. So ... everything normal.”

That made her giggle. A sound that lit up my mood significantly. Though, by the time we sat down to eat, her expression had lost all signs of happiness. She seemed thoughtful and pensive. The more time passed, the less she spoke as well until, when I finally told her that our appointment with the therapist would be two hours away, she only answered by making sounds instead of using words. Though, I thought I saw her eyes narrow for a split second when she gave me a curt nod.

I learned about the reason for her curious behavior after we cleaned up the table. While I was still drying the plates, she excused herself to go into her bedroom and grab some clothes before walking right into the bathroom. Instead of closing the door, however, she paused, looked around, and then called out for me.

“What’s up?” I asked, still using the towel to clean my hands.

“Could you help me get this hook on top of the door to hang the towels?”

As she asked that in a perfectly innocent voice, she presented me with some kind of metal hook I had never seen before. Our towels hung from hooks mounted to the walls. Before I could ask her about it, though, I noticed the hard stare she gave me and understood what was going on.

“Sure!” I said, placed the hook on the door, and then closed it as if to check whether that new addition would block it. “All right, what’s going on?”

“Paulie ... About the therapist ... I’m a little scared.”

I believed her. She looked the part. Her shoulders slumped, her hands wringing in front of her, and her eyes darting around, only occasionally locking with mine.

“Mom, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“I just ... What if I say something that ... What if I say something about ... us?”

“Oh!” My dense brain finally made the connection. “Still nothing to worry about. If therapists would call the cops every time a kleptomaniac patient told them about stealing something, they wouldn’t get any therapy done. And I’m pretty sure there are ethical guidelines about gossiping. Not to mention their reputation would be ruined, since no patient could trust them again.”

She thought about this for a moment but still seemed unsure. I decided to do the one thing I knew would work: I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and pulled her into me for a hug.

“If it helps, I’m planning to answer all of her questions as truthfully and detailed as possible. We need this. Trust me?” After a few seconds, I felt her nod against my chest. “Thank you, Mom. I love you.”

“I love you too, Paulie.”

At that moment, she looked up at me, raised herself onto her toes, and kissed me on the lips. It was probably the softest and faintest touch imaginable, but the gesture in itself had a massive impact on me. Because this felt more intimate and loving than I thought possible after what we had been through for the past few years. And I liked it. A lot!

Suddenly, I realized that her perfect body was pressed into mine as she lovingly stared into my eyes with that small, contented smile on her face. It only got worse when her hands wandered downwards to the small of my back, where her fingers interlocked, and she pulled herself strongly into my body. Finally, she just buried her face in my shirt and I heard her take a deep breath, as if she was savoring my scent. And I liked that even more!

I kissed her hair on the top of her head, gave her a quick squeeze, and then grabbed her shoulders to gently push her away.

“I ... I think we need to get ready. And we shouldn’t be in here too long. It’ll raise suspicions,” I stammered.

“Yes, Paulie. Whatever you say.”

My eyes widened. This wasn’t the type of ‘whatever’ you get when someone dismisses what you’re saying, or when someone wants to express that they don’t believe you. This was a clear and unmistakable declaration that she would do whatever I told her to. And not in the way she did until now, by following commands as a turn-on in bed. Maybe my mind was influenced by what I felt during the kiss she just gave me, but it sounded more like she was declaring to be mine to command in every way. Like she had allowed Dad to do, the first she ‘surrendered’ herself to.

And, yes, I liked that idea as well.

I could only shake my head after leaving the bathroom. Did I seriously entertain the idea of becoming my mother’s lover? Spending the rest of my life with the woman in that way? Now I wasn’t so sure about telling the therapist everything anymore.

I was unable to stop thinking about this new turn of events while we got ready to leave. I was still unable to stop thinking about it while Jim drove us to the therapist’s office. And, when we sat in her waiting room until the door opened and the woman stepped in front of us, my thoughts were still so occupied with the question of what I truly felt for my mother that I almost missed the outstretched hand pointing at me.

“Hello, Paul. I’m Dr. Walker, but you can call me Danielle. I hope you’re okay with us starting on a first-name basis?” she greeted me with a friendly smile.

“No, that’s okay with me.”

“And you must be Ms. Anderson, his mother,” Danielle continued after turning her attention towards Mom, still with the same smile on her face. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to first speak with Paul alone. To get to know each other a little and talk about what he hopes to achieve here. I find that part to be easier while maintaining some privacy.”

“Yes, of course!” Mom immediately conceded with an eager nod. “Whatever he needs.”

There it was again. The same declaration as earlier in the bathroom. And, just as in the bathroom, it didn’t sound like a concerned mother proclaiming her will to do whatever was necessary to help her child, but like a woman declaring her devotion to her man. Going by the shadow that spread over the doctor’s face as Mom spoke, she picked up on it as well.

“Very good, then. Paul, if you would?” Doctor Walker said while gesturing towards her open office door.

I stepped past her into the room and could just see Mom retaking her seat when the door closed.

“So,” the doctor started after taking a seat in a comfortable-looking armchair and gesturing for me to take my seat in an identical piece of furniture. It kinda surprised me. I was expecting a couch. “My dear nephew gave me the bullet points of what is going on with you and your mother, so why don’t you fill me in with the details?”

“Uh...” I scratched my chin while trying to figure out where to even begin. “Well. I don’t really understand it myself if I’m being honest. I had no idea how bad Mom really was until Tim introduced me to Ava and explained all this to me.”

I saw her nod and scribble something onto a legal pad, though she then just looked at me expectantly. She obviously had no intention to guide me in any way here.

“Alright ... so ... My mom’s ... submissive. VERY submissive. While she was in jail, her lawyer had a psych eval done on her, but they couldn’t really come to a conclusion either. They thought she might have something they called a ‘Dependent Personality Disorder’, but they weren’t sure.”

I handed her the psych eval I got from Breston and watched her as she read it over. To me, it was all gibberish, but the woman seemed to understand everything it said, because, after merely glancing at the paper, she spoke up.

“According to this, they concluded that she didn’t have that.”

“Yeah, but they also didn’t care to dig deeper.” I took a deep breath while convincing myself that this was the right thing to do. “After Mom moved in with me, she ... uh ... kinda ... offered herself to me.”

It took me a moment before I was able to directly look at the woman again, but when I ultimately managed to raise my head, there wasn’t even a hint of shock or disapproval on her face. She just kept looking at me with what would be a perfectly neutral expression if it weren’t for that faint, encouraging smile.

“And how did that make you feel?”

“Well, it ... confused me,” I said, and then quickly continued, hoping she wouldn’t ask more questions about it. “Especially since, when I proposed seeing a therapist, she fought me tooth and nail on the idea. She told me that she didn’t need help. That this is just who she is. She doesn’t see a problem with what she did.”

“Hm,” she hummed. “When she offered herself to you as you said, what did she do specifically?”

I cleared my throat as I reminded myself of what she knew about Tim, and that I had no reason to hold back.

“I woke up with my dick down her throat.” There was still no change in her facial expression. “And I mean, literally down her throat. She didn’t give a rat’s ass about choking herself on it. I was ... still half asleep and didn’t realize what was happening when the pleasure took over. So, I acted totally on instinct when I grabbed her head and...” I noticed how defensive I sounded and decided to stay with the facts. “She didn’t care about that either. She made no attempt to stop or fight me, even though she was coughing up a storm when I was ... done. Finally, she just got out of bed, told me how she would do everything to make me happy, and informed me that my breakfast would be ready soon. Like this was the most normal thing ever.”

I saw her scribble on her pad for a long time. So long, in fact, it somehow made me uncomfortable.

“That comment she made when I proposed to start with a private session ... Am I correct to assume that your relationship evolved since then?”

“Well ... yes,” I sighed. “It started with that morning but ... it kinda made me ... lose my inhibition about being sexual with her. I mean, as hard as it was to admit it ... that orgasm she gave me was mind-altering. After that, I had a hard time seeing her as my mother again, and not just as that very attractive woman who’s willing to do anything and everything I might desire.”

“Hm,” she hummed as if I just told her about tomorrow’s weather forecast. “That’s a lot of responsibility. But, in case you’re worrying, I can reassure you that this is not as weird as it sounds.” She nodded when I gave her a skeptical look. “I know from Tim that you and your mother haven’t seen each other in a familial setting for a long time. It’s even been a few years since you saw her at all. Relationships like yours occur a lot more often than people think.”

“Yeah, he said something like that,” I mumbled under my breath. “I guess my desire for revenge didn’t help either.”

“Desire for revenge?” Now she looked intrigued. Apparently, my mumbling was loud enough for her to hear.

“Look, my Mom’s had it rough. She told me that she’s been this way her entire life. First with her father, then with my dad, and then with the Dick that became my stepfather. And, while it supposedly worked out great with my dad, her second husband was an abusive asshole who used her submissiveness to make our lives hell.”

“Did he abuse you as well?” she asked, and I felt the familiar unease I always battled with when having to talk about this.

“I’ve had my fair share of trips to the ER. But I mostly got over it after I left his house and started working at Carter.”

“I see. And you blamed your mother for that?”

It helped that there was no judgment in her voice, though it was obvious she didn’t believe a word I said about being over it, which made it even more embarrassing to admit how much I had blamed Mom for it all.

“Yeah. I blamed her for the longest time. I only managed to take a step back and look at the whole mess objectively after her total submissiveness shocked me out of my anger.” I shook my head. “I ... need to make this right.”

“Is that why you finally decided to see a therapist? To make it right with your mother?”

“Mostly, yes,” I nodded, but I saw her questioning look. “Bill ... my boss ... also said that I needed to do this. But my mom needs to be your priority. Dealing with her is more important right now because there’s ... a time issue.”

“Why?” she asked and I sighed again.

“I don’t know if Tim told you, but she’s living with me because the abusive Dick managed to get her thrown in jail on trumped-up charges, and then used her incarceration and his influence to divorce her without having to share any of his wealth with her. I managed to find proof of her being framed and him lying in divorce court. That means, once the divorce is going before a new judge, she’ll be pretty wealthy herself.”

“And why is that a problem?”

I could be wrong, but I thought I saw a small, knowing smile on her lips when she asked that question. It also didn’t sound like she was actually inquiring for an answer. It sounded like that woman knew damn well why I had a problem with Mom’s incoming wealth and approved of my worrying.

“Because ... once she gets that money, and people learn about her having that money, it’s only a matter of time before a horde of sleazy assholes shows up to try and take it from her. If they discover her submissiveness and find a way to use it against her...” I shook my head, though I suddenly felt the need to explain myself further. “I don’t want or need her money. I want her to use it for herself! I finally understand that she was as much a victim as I was, so I’m not doing this for my personal gain.”

To my surprise, she chuckled.

“I didn’t think you were, Paul. But, more importantly, why did Bill tell you to go see a therapist? I happen to know the man. He and my husband have been friends for a long time, and I know personally that he’s a good man. Still, I also know that he’s not a big fan of therapy. He and Tim actually call me a ‘Doctor of Common Sense’ when trying to poke fun at my profession.”

“Urgh,” I groaned. “While I was investigating the Dick, there was ... a dangerous moment where I was rather close to him. It was the first time I saw him in real life since leaving his house. And ... the moment I saw him in the flesh, I suddenly felt a lot of ... rage. I almost...” My voice trailed off, but she perfectly understood what I was saying.

She seemed thoughtful for a while, not writing on her pad, not saying anything, not even looking at me. Until, after about a minute, she spoke up in a pensive voice.

“I know that you used the issues you have with your stepfather as a ruse for your mother. But I honestly think we should actually work through your abuse. Now, hear me out,” she quickly added as she saw me attempt to protest. “What your mother is displaying is what we call a masochistic disorder. The usual way to address that is aversion therapy.”

I looked at her for a moment.

“You mean, like, negative reinforcement? Like shock collars for dogs?”

“Yes, and No,” she laughed. “Basically, I would make her relive the situations in which she gave in to her submissive tendencies, but then point out the negative consequences that followed as a direct result of her submission. Slowly but surely, it reduces a patient’s desire to place themselves in another situation like that and allows them to gain the resolve to place their own wants and needs before their partner’s. But we need to do that slowly and very carefully. If we go too hard too fast, she could fall into a depression, or just close herself off because it’s too much to deal with.”

I quickly understood where she was going with this.

“So ... you’re saying that, if she sits next to us as we work on my issues, that I have because of the abuse that happened as a direct result of her surrendering herself to the Dick...”

“ ... she would be forced to face reality. She couldn’t just brush it off as a bad experience or put it behind her as something that can’t be changed. Since she told you that she wants to do whatever it takes to make you happy, she does regret what happened, and she blames herself for it. But she doesn’t seem to make the connection between her submissiveness and what happened. We need to point that out to her.”

“Well. You’re the expert here. But I’m kinda afraid that it will only hurt her.”

“It will hurt her. That’s the point. And that’s why she will need your help as well.”

“Okay?”

“How much did Tim tell you about how we tried to help Ava?” she asked carefully.

“Well, not much. But Ava did.” I saw her eyes widen in surprise. “She said that Tim somehow managed to show her the difference between being used for her own pleasure, and just being used as a sex toy.”

“I didn’t know you spoke with her.” She sounded surprised but showed a pleasant smile. “But what she said was correct. And, if you could do the same for your mother, it would be a great help.”

“Really?” I was still skeptical about a psychologist actually recommending to fuck my own mother.

“I know it sounds suspicious, but I’m serious. While we use our therapy sessions to point out all the negativity her submissiveness caused in both of your lives, she will blame herself. It comes with her submissiveness, Paul. So, you need to show her that you still care. That you still support her. But, most important of all, you need to reassure her that she’s not fundamentally broken. Being sexually submissive isn’t wrong. There’s nothing wrong with her either. If it leads to abuse, it’s because there’s something wrong with the abusers. So, it would help a great deal if we could show her that she can be submissive to someone who actually loves and cares for her, but needs to retain her authority in case she ends up with someone who would abuse that power.”

I hated to admit it ... but I was thankful for a professional therapist’s encouragement to fuck my mom for a reason that I could call plausible. Even after fully embracing the whole situation, there was still a big part of me worrying about just causing more damage. But now, after hearing that, I could honestly tell myself that enjoying what my mother offered would actually help her.

“You sure about that one? I’m not ... just enforcing her submissiveness if I accept it?”

That caused her to laugh.

“I see I’ll need to be blunt about that part. So, here it goes: Make out a safe word, then tie her hands and ankles to a spreader bar, and then fuck her till she begs you to stop, Paul.” My eyes grew as wide as saucers, which amused her even more. “I told you, as long as she enjoys herself and it happens out of a genuine and mutual wish to please each other, there is nothing wrong with it. If she doesn’t beg you to stop using her safe word, fuck her once more for good measure. It’s as simple as that.”

“Okay,” I said hesitantly. “Though, that might be a problem since we’re currently living in the company safe house. Meaning, we’re under 24/7 surveillance.”

“Yes, I don’t think that would be a good idea. But, if I understand you correctly, your stepfather is about to be trialed. The therapy is going to take a while, Paul. Don’t get any illusions about that. You have more than enough time to ease into it after you move back into your apartment.”

I thought about her words before nodding.

“That’ll work, I guess.”

“Great!” she called out happily. “Now, how about we get started and call your mother in? Or do you want to keep the private setting for now? Maybe there are ... aspects of your life with your stepfather that you’d rather not discuss in front of her yet.”

I was a little taken aback by the genuine concern in her voice, but I just shrugged.

“Nah. She knows everything that happened. She was there to witness it first-hand.”

Even though I said it with as much indifference as I could muster, I saw the corner of her eye twitch when I said it. Regardless, she gave me a curt nod before turning to the door and calling Mom into her office. I had to smirk when she now directed us towards a couch, so Mom and I could sit right next to each other while the doctor took a seat in some kind of a padded office chair, finally giving me the cliché-setting I expected before.

The moment we sat, Mom took hold of my hand and gave it a strong squeeze. I didn’t know whether she tried to encourage me, reassure me, or express that she would stay by my side. Either of these options would have made me feel better, were it not for the whole thing being planned as a ruse to get her into this office. It left a sour taste in my mouth.

“So, Ms. Anderson, I think I got a pretty good picture of what Paul needs. And I’m thanking you for being here as his support,” the doctor started.

“I would do everything for my Paulie!” Mom nodded with a determined expression.

“I’m happy to hear that. Because I think it would be best to start working through his trauma from the beginning.” I felt mom’s hands, which were still holding on to my own, twitch when the doctor used the word ‘trauma’. “Please, would you mind telling me how you got to know his stepfather?”

Mom looked down at her lap for a long time before we heard her take a deep breath and nod.

For the following eighty minutes, after Mom told us the detailed version of how she got to meet Senator Dick and how he managed to pull her out of her depression caused by Dad’s death while he quickly picked up on her issues, I got to start recounting the highlights of my youth in his house. I quickly understood what Doctor Walker meant when she explained that aversion therapy thing to me, because, every time I told her about a particularly painful memory, she followed up by asking where Mom was in those moments, what she did after one of us got put down verbally or physically, and how her inaction made me feel at the time.

Mom stayed quiet every time Doctor Walker did this. Not once did she inject herself into the conversation to even attempt to defend herself. Though, the tears that ran dark lines of her mascara down her cheeks about halfway through the session made it clear that she not only regretted what had happened but that she actually suffered from those memories as well.