Chapter 16

I knocked on my son’s door with my nose but barely made a noise and managed to hurt my face a little in the process. Jeff was waiting, and he laughed as he presented me with his bare feet at about eye level.

I looked up at him standing there naked; he was admiring my body and how I was slinking through the hallway.

“You can begin by licking my feet,” he stated flatly.

I wasn’t into feet, although I’ve had grooms who were into mine – the stinkier and sweatier, the better for them. As a show pony or a work pony, there is no shortage of stinky or sweaty girl feet at these events, and the guys into them will do anything for a chance to groom A pony girl after a long day being trotted around the field in the hot sun in thick heavy leather pony boots.

I had never given someone a foot bath with my tongue before. I swallowed and looked up to assess his sincerity and saw that Jeff was not teasing. This would have to be a new experience for me. I am a natural submissive, and I get off giving pleasure. It was still hard for me; he’s my son, and he can call me Vixen, and I call him Sir, but there is no forgetting that this is roleplay, and in the afternoons, we go back to being Mother and Son.

“This is not usual for me, sir,” I said in a very clipped tone.

“Any hole, any man, at any time, your mouth, on this man’s feet, lap them up, clean them, suck each toe like it was a cock, and I’ll allow you entry and fuck your brains out.”

I have to admit that it takes a lot to make me feel degraded and humiliated. It can be done, and at first, I felt that way. Jeff stood there awkwardly as I started on his left foot and did a thorough job of licking the salt off the top of his feet and sucking his toes.

He laughed a little as I licked in between each of foul smelling toes, and soon I became amused. “When you were little, I used to play this little piggy with your tiny little toes,” I teased him and repeated the song as I licked and sucked on them. “This little piggy went to market,” slurp “This little piggy stayed home!” suck,” This little piggy had roast beef!” kiss “This little piggy had none.” lap “This little piggy went ... Wee, wee, wee, all the way home!”

“And now this little piggy is sucking my toes but killing my boner,” he lamented as he pulled my hair and dragged me into his bed. I went with it – I was no stranger to hair-pulling. It was not like Jeff, though. He tossed me on the bed like a rag doll and got behind me.

Jeff is not quite my size, a little shorter than me. I wouldn’t say he’s a little pup, but he was definitely still growing and had yet to reach his full size as an adult, and yet he manhandled me quite nicely. He removed the candle and shoved it in my mouth (the end from my butt first) and then began to fuck it.

I rolled with it as he slapped my ass from behind and pulled my hair. It wasn’t as hard as his father, but it was enough to let me know he was trying to get rough. It wasn’t long before the candle fell from my mouth, and our bodies intertwined.

I detached from him as Jeff, my son, and let him become just a man who was fucking me – nothing more and nothing less than the groom my Master chose to train, feed and wash me during the day. It was then I could open my mouth and let him French kiss me; his kisses were sloppy and forced, not like his sister’s playful, kinky little kisses. They were big, and he tried dominating my mouth, mauling my tits, and even holding his hand over my nose to cut off my air.

I had to adjust his hands so that he didn’t break my nose and show him how to hold my throat so that he wouldn’t crush my windpipe. Once that was done, he turned into a passionate and fairly rough lover.

He kept calling me “Lela” instead of Vixen. I was thankful for that over “mom” because I doubted that I could have handled that. Even my birth name Carmen would have sounded weird coming from my son. However, my husband’s pet name for me, when I do something silly or stupid, was wearing a little thin. It meant I was stupid, and Peter reserved for when I genuinely made a mistake through my carelessness and lack of attention to detail.

Once Jeff shot his load up my ass, I thought he was finished. However, after a moment of catching his breath, he turned and asked me, “How I liked a hot load of jizz up my shitter.”

I was taken aback. That was a little graphic – I hadn’t heard him use that language. He hadn’t heard his father say it either. “It was good, Sir, thank you,” I said as I asked to be excused.

“I am not done with you yet. I want to fuck that fat cunt of yours,” he flipped me over and began to take me doggy style from behind. I didn’t complain, I could take another fuck.

“Tomorrow, I am going to spread your pussy wide open with a chain like we did to Dancer,” he promised. I have had my labia stretched that way. It can make me dry and be agonizing. I wanted to tell him that it was called Eagle-Mounting, but he wasn’t paying attention to me. I was just skin around a cum-rag as far as he knew at that moment, and his dirty talk wasn’t directed at me. It was to turn him on.

“If you were mine, I would have made you pretend you forgot your credit card and offer to give that waiter a fuck behind the restaurant in exchange,” he fantasized and talked dirty about a scenario at the pizza parlor.

I have to admit, that was turning me on, even though it wasn’t a likely situation. The waiter needed to get paid.

“I would handcuff you and Ellie together behind the dumpster out back and make you crouch down naked. You could share a single strand of spaghetti and fuck all comers while me, Dad, and Eddie were inside enjoying a delicious dinner!”

That was a strangely arousing fantasy as well. I kept picturing the famous Disney movie the Lady and the Tramp though, and the acrid smell of a dumpster, and it didn’t excite me that much. It was also very implausible. His father would never go for something like that. Peter would be concerned about raccoons and cops being called after we get discovered or someone hurting us if they found us.

“I would have dressed you like a total whore, big tits hanging out, make you ice them up so your nipples are hard, short skirt, no panties, fuck me pumps, and a matching outfit for my sister. Then make you walk back and forth in front of the restaurant and turn tricks to pay for my dinner. No sitting, just hustling to sell those sweet, fat Puerto Rican asses of yours. How would you like to know that your son is enjoying the hard-earned cash you made from the sweat of your pussy spreading for total strangers?”

Jeff may look as Irish as his father, but I would have told him that he was half Puerto Rican just like his sister, if he wasn’t fucking me so right that I made a funny face and crossed my eyes while he slapped my body and fucked me like. If he could go like this, reload, and do it again, I was feeling frisky enough just to let him talk. I assumed it made him horny, and he needed to hear himself out loud describing his dirtiest fantasies.

“You two cunts can shower inside the men’s room, suck and wash any dicks for tips, and then I’ll walk you outside with just the towels on your backs, and make you change behind the trucks, and you can work the gas station until your pussies and asses are so packed with jizz that you shit white bricks of it.”

My son just told me an extremely humiliating and disgusting but highly erotically charged fantasy that Peter would never allow, and despite my disgust, I started to orgasm, one, two, three, right after the other. I choked out the words “I have never charged for sex!”

“You will, whore! Dad might leave you in the will to me, and I will be your Master! You live to serve, you live to fuck, say it, any man, any hole, anytime, anywhere!”

He slapped my face hard, and twisted my nipple, god, I didn’t want to say it because I like sex to sting a little. I said what he wanted to hear, “I’ll fuck any man, take him up any hole, anytime, anywhere!”

The smart ass in me would have snickered and added the words “But your Dad wouldn’t leave me to you as property, and I’d still have to consent, and I’ve never charged for sex!”

I could only mewl like a depraved little fuck bunny, while forced my legs up over my head to get deeper inside me.

Jeff continued to smirk, his dick thrusting in me harder, and deeper as he shared the filthiest ideas of what he’d do with me – it was an incredibly outlandish fantasy and one I would never even consider in real life. I could only pant like a stuck pig being ravaged as Jeff held his hand over my nose and mouth to limit my breathing. I wondered how he ever even learned to fuck this roughly.
I assumed that his older sister taught him. He didn’t see me as a lover or his mother. I was a filthy fuck doll to him; He fucked me so raw that I hoped he would cum because I felt guilty for not stopping him or protesting. It was good sex, and cock is cock.

That’s how I approached the idea of Jeff being my groom in the first place. I’ve seen other families at the Camp with relatives involved in training. I felt like the filthy whore he was describing because I was getting off on how little he cared if I got off.

He kept fucking me, wearing out my pussy. “Yes, Master, oh give it to me, FUUU-UUUUUUUUU,” I was creaming all over his cock, while he choked my throat, careful not to crush my windpipe. I had gotten caught up in my orgasm and called my son what he wanted to hear. Images of Peter frowning at me for betraying him and calling another man, my own son, my Master. “This was all fantasy,” I thought to myself, as I clung to the idea that if he wanted to talk dirty, I could say things that I didn’t mean to get him off, too! “Fuck me harder, Jeff! Fuck, Fuck, yes!! Punish my pussy!!!!!!”

Jeff kept right on pinning one of his filthy fantasies like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Here’s how I see it,” he said. “We take over a motel, yank all the mattresses out, and turn it into a goddamn carnival. Charge one price at the door—full access to you and Dancer. Any hole, any time, all night long. Call it the blow-out special.” His grin widened, eyes glinting as if he were imagining the whole scene play out in vivid detail. He spat in my gaping mouth, “Shut your cock hole, I won’t be kissing those lips, Mom!”

Screeeech!! Urrrrggghhh, that was the sound of my pussy drying up; at least, that’s how it felt. Hearing Jeff in Jeff’s natural voice, the child that I gave birth to, call me Mom while he was pounding the shit out of me turned me off. He didn’t care, didn’t notice, and something about the callous way that he slapped me, flipped me over, bent me over the bed, and started fucking my unlubed ass, made me cum again. I was soaking wet again!

Jeff was a little guy, but he could fuck and keep on going like the Energizer Bunny. I wasn’t thinking much about anything, but if I was, I probably would have thought I should have moved into his room earlier. I was so conflicted with guilt over fucking my son and felt so filthy for loving it – the best strategy was to try to shut my brain off.

I’ve been an anal queen since I was in my teens; I’ve been fucked raw, fucked dirty without an enema, fisted, ass-fucked with huge dildos; I am used to it. I’ve worn pony plugs with long flowing tails for hours, sometimes most of the day, without removing them. I’ve had Vaseline, spit, my own juice, K-Y, olive oil, and almost any sex-gel or make-shift lubricant you can think of other than motor oil spread on my asshole, and honestly – I can cum as long as they make it hurt a little and slap my ass.

Jeff seemed to know exactly what I liked. I forgot all about why I was mad or what was said earlier. I couldn’t remember why I felt guilty earlier, either. I lost myself in getting pounded and stretched out.

“We are going to pass you and Ellie around the Camp and let every man there cornhole you, Mom!”

Oh yeah, that! Calling me Mom during sex. I cringed and tried to tune it out. It’s just like being called Cunt or a whore. I’ve never charged a penny for sex. I am not a whore. I’ve been gang-banged at these camps; I’ve been tied up in the barn at night as a free-use pony. I know that the euphemism is “cornholing” a pony when a bunch of men take you up the ass one after the other. None of that bothered me; in fact I couldn’t wait to get it; I was Vixen, and not Jeff’s mom.

I don’t know how many men I’ve had in a row. Usually, after the first ten, I lose count and unless someone videos it, I wouldn’t be able to tell you how many spread me out and fucked me. It’s not real sex, it’s almost mechanical once that happens. No kissing, no passion, no emotion, which just happens to be how I like it best of all. They cum and don’t stick around to talk to me after they finish.

The most men that I have been told I had at once was thirty-two men. “I was at a one-woman gang bang and got fucked by 32 men, Master.”

That one was on me, I was just goading my son now. If this was just dirty talk, I wanted to see how he responded.

“I am going to bring over every guy in my school that wants your filthy, stretched-out as and let you and Ellie see how long of a train you can run, Whore!!”

“Promises, Promises,” I thought to myself as I imagined half of the senior class at Jeff’s high school pulling up to bang me and my daughter. It was so filthy and nasty that I couldn’t stop myself from cumming again.

Jeff slapped my ass hard while I gyrated on his dick and rode it like it was an electric cattle prod shocking my pussy and ass into spasms!!

“Yes, oh yes!” Jeff was sticking me good, his dick was still hard, and he was thrusting in and out while I gyrated and mewled.

“I want to hear you call me Master!”

When I refused, he stopped abruptly and shoved the candle back up my ass unceremoniously. He wiped the sweat from his tummy onto my back and told me to get out. “Go fuck, your Master!”

“I am sorry, Sir. You aren’t my Master.”

“That was just pillow talk, Mom. It was all fantasy stuff; you’ve never done dirty talk?”

I’ve done it plenty, and that wasn’t like normal dirty talk. That was a host of frantic, sometimes elaborate, but often unrealistic fantasies that often involved humiliating and degrading me and his sister.

“I have, but I only have one Master.”

“You call Uncle Eddie, Master!”

“He’s A Master, but not my Master, Sir. I am sorry,” I apologized as I got up. I felt my son’s warm cum dripping down my thigh and leaking out of the candle.

Jeff had no more to say to me. I crawled out of his room, not trying to shake my rump in a sexy way, feeling a bit defeated and overly hot. I wondered if I had ruined my relationship with my son.

I’ve always had a “It’s just sex” attitude with close personal friends of ours. I try not to get attached or get emotional. Sex with them is like playing tennis – it’s just a physical activity. I had doubts that I could ever repair my relationship with my son.

I didn’t feel like that with Ellie. It felt organic, and expected to play with her. A part of me had known for years that my daughter admired my show pony regalia and wanted to do it with me. Ellie was always so hyper-sexual and kinky anyway. She was never one to be shy at school and a naughty little slut at heart.

I could relate.

Jeff was going to some dark places with me – and some of his fantasies seemed like revenge or punishment scenarios. I wondered if he was growing to dislike me.

I wondered if he was angry that I had kept a part of my life from the kids. I hadn’t done a very good job of hiding that we were swingers, but I had tried not to dangle it in their noses. I thought that was the right thing to do and I still felt that way. Yet, I could not shake the feeling that Jeff had issues to work out with me.

“Wow, you look tore up and broke down,” Peter noted as I crawled into his room. I smiled up at him, my hair was roughed up and I am sure my makeup had run. Mascara had probably run down my face.

“I just want to be held, Master,” I said as I snuggled with Peter under the covers. He held me tightly and asked me if Jeff had been too rough with me.

I found that almost laughable. I often bragged that I liked rough sex. It hadn’t been how hard he fucked at all. I wasn’t a porcelain doll. It was the things he said while he fucked me, and how his fantasies seemed to center around humiliation and degradation.

I didn’t want to get into that with Peter. I was still processing it – maybe it was just pillow talk from a teenage boy who grew up with BDSM on the Internet. “It was good,” I breathed into his ear and begged. “Are you ready for more?”

“Do you have my son’s cum still inside you?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Ass or cunt?”

“Asshole, I think,” I admitted.

Peter seemed impressed that I was confused and had obviously taken it in both holes. “Suck my dick, I am tired, and I have some work to take off tomorrow that may keep me for a while. You have obviously been well fucked today.”

I blushed and began to suck my husband’s dick, but I asked as I did if we might be going too far around Jeff. “He’s the same age as Kevin, and you didn’t want him exposed to it.”

I normally don’t talk when I am giving head unless I am begging to get fucked.

“Kevin is not my son; that’s not my call. I have no idea what his maturity level is, but I don’t think it’s very high. You already introduced Jeff to training his sister while I was gone, and he’s grown up around us. It’s a bit late to scale it back, isn’t it?”

I was sucking my husband to the base of his balls and couldn’t respond. I choked a little as I released the tip of his dick and admitted that Jeff had some dirty fantasies.

“I did, too, and so do most men,” Peter saw nothing wrong with that. “Has he acted upon them?”

“He wants to spread my labia apart tomorrow and use hooks to hold it apart the same way that Eddie showed him on Dancer,” I admitted.

“And? You have a very spreadable cunt. You will obey Jeff as if he were me at home. I have Eagle mounted your cunt wings plenty of times. You never complained.”

Eagle mount is the official name for what Eddie showed him today.

“Is there something you want to discuss with me? If so, take my dick out of your mouth, and let’s have a serious conversation,” Peter sat up with an annoyed but concerned face.

“No, I just worry that there is no putting this Jeanie back in the bottle, now.”

“They won’t be here forever, Carmen. They will both eventually find their own path, and then you’ll miss them the same way that your mother does you.”

I never thought about it like that.

“What do we do when Ellie has gone and Jeff still wants to be my groom?”

“Then we teach him to be a groom. I see no harm in that, considering he wants to do it.”

“Every day?”

“Ah, that’s what it is. You aren’t used to being trained daily at home, and you are starting to chafe at the inconvenience. You want to go to the gym, do Pilates, watch television, and do your normal shopping routine?”

“I am not that shallow, but I like a little freedom, Sir.”

“You are allowed to leave after you are finished serving, and after Camp Crucible, we’ll adjust the training frequency,” Peter played with my hair a little, wrapping strands around his fingers as he admired my face.

“Adjust? You mean we might keep seven days a week?” I said.

Jeff picked up his shrinking dick and tapped my lips. “It’s not going to suck itself,” he teased playfully. I opened my mouth and began to suck on it like it was the tip of an ice cream cone.

“I said we will adjust. I haven’t decided yet, but I’d imagine after two weeks full-time, you’ll both be ready for a break. I was thinking of taking us down to Florida for some sun and fun on the beach, and a little vacation before summer’s break is over and Jeff goes back to school.”

I liked the thought of that, but I couldn’t help but imagine us continuing this pace. I choked down his cock, and gave my husband an expert blowjob, vowing to give him all of my attention. He likes it when I twist his cock a little, squeezing the vein, and stare up at him.

I showed him the cum when I was finished and waited for permission to swallow, and then he patted me on the head. “Now, go back and show our daughter how to behave as a submissive. If you can’t handle the cage, let me know, and I’ll tell him to keep you out some nights.”

I assured my husband that I could handle it as I savored the taste of his jizz, and rammed the candle back up my asshole, making sure to fuck my butt with it a little before dropping to my knees and crawling.

“You could probably walk to his door, get down on all fours, and then knock,” Peter said.

“That would be dishonest, Master,” I smiled and wiggled my ass for him as I left his room. I reached up to turn out his light on the way out.

Once I returned, the door was open. Jeff was giving a pounding to Ellie, and they were really going at it. Hair pulling and scratching; Ellie was having a fun time, getting plowed. Her legs were above her head, and she was holding her ankles as he fucked her deeply and they giggled like lovers.

I waited at the door, like a silly bitch with a candle up my butt and listened to the sound of their calamitous sexcapades. I was impressed with Jeff’s stamina. I could smell my daughter’s pussy juices from the door.

When they finished, Jeff collapsed into the sheets. I cleared my throat a little and announced myself meekly.

“Good girl, get up here and rim Dancer’s asshole, then show it to me,” he commanded with the clap of his hands. It reminded me of an old Master we used to refer to simply as the “clapper” because he tended to make loud pronouncements to his elderly slave and then clap his hands. It made me cringe when I was reminded of it.

“Where did Dad drop his load?”

“In my mouth, Sir. He had me swallow it.”

“Pity, Do you still have the load I pumped into your shitter,” he asked.

I cringed again at the term shitter to describe my asshole, and admitted that I hadn’t had the candle out very long.

“That’s not what I asked. Do you have a load of my cum in your backdoor, slut?” Jeff pulled my nose and pushed my face between my daughter’s sweaty, well-fucked ass crack.

“Yes, Sir!” I admitted as I began to lick and rim my daughter.

“Good, you’ll be crated together. I want you to spit it on the floor. In the morning, whoever begs to lap it up the most, will be allowed to eat some dried cum for breakfast on top of their cold feed.”

I wanted to say sarcastically, “Oh yummy!” but I didn’t. instead, I made a mrrmrmrmrmr sound as Jeff rubbed my face in Ellie’s ass crack and stuck my tongue further into her ass to retrieve a few droplets of Jeff’s jizz. There wasn’t much, but it was something.

He was disappointed when he saw all I had on my tongue.

“All that mining in Ellie’s fart box, and that’s all you found? That’s gonna have to do for breakfast! I hope you have a lot more in your backdoor, Lela.”

He instructed Ellie to hold the candle from my ass in her mouth and get into the cage with me. It was barely big enough for one girl, and there was no lying down flat. We were crowded together. He wanted me to squat and drip the cum out of my ass slowly and for Ellie to watch with her head under my ass. We were in an awkward sixty-nine position of sorts, with her upside down and me trying not to sit on her head.

Cum drips out very slowly, and Jeff was quickly losing patience as he ran out of steam. “Sit on Dancer’s face, fuck her candle with your pussy.”

“That’s been in my ass, Sir.”

“The end in Dancer’s mouth has, the tip hasn’t, has it?”

I slid on the tip and began to fuck it slowly, being careful not to hurt Ellie. She made a funny face, and I couldn’t tell if she found it amusing or was as uncomfortable as me. “Good, you can keep that up until you feel like stopping. I’ll see you two cunts in the morning.”