Chapter 3: Light Within the Dark

This time I drove Mary’s Merc and it was an absolute pleasure. For about 30 seconds anyway. Then I began to think about Mary being in the trunk and the doubts, insecurities and fears set in. I knew I wasn’t ready for my retribution. I could no more have Mary gang banged, much less pierced and tattooed, than I could fly to the moon. But I had no one to talk to about it except Mary’s own son and Paul was still only a 17 year old, despite the maturity he’d displayed.

Paul broke the silence that was threatening to become terminal. “I was just thinking about when all this began and I feel really bad for laughing at you,” he admitted out of the blue.

I thought we’d covered this ground. He had nothing to be sorry for and I had everything to be thankful for, as far as he was concerned.

“Its like the universe was screwing with my life,” he went on. “That first week, a buddy of mine told me about a game he was playing with his girlfriend and it was like you and mom all over again. But their game was different. His girlfriend got off on it big time, while you were just doing it. I was so angry with him for telling me about it right in front of her. It seemed like ... you know, just wrong ... but then his girlfriend ... she saw me getting wound up and she admitted that it thrilled her when Doug - that’s his name - told his friends about the things she did for him. You know they’re still together and they’re in love, but Doug and Becky are still playing their kinky game. It’s become part of their relationship. He loans her out to friends and she, you know ... looks after them.”

I was kind of busy thinking about Mary and myself - not really interested in Paul’s ramblings, although I owed him my ear at the very least. “I told you it’s okay, Paul. Whatever you’re trying to say.”

“I wanted you to understand why I laughed at you when you wore those girly panties around the house. Becky told me she gets off on it and I thought you were getting your jollies like that too. I’m real sorry, dude.”

Something about what he was saying was trying to make a connection in my head and it wasn’t his apology. He was talking about a friend of his and this friend’s girlfriend. There was something there. I just couldn’t grasp it. Mary was crying in my trunk and I was supposed to be getting my revenge but I wasn’t ready. THAT’S what I was stuck on.

“I’m truly okay with it, Paul. I wanted it, in a way. I came up with the idea and I don’t hold you responsible for anything. Please just drop it. You’re making me feel bad for you. So um, have you thought any more about what I’m gonna do with your mom?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

“Yeah. Just all the fricking time! It’s what made me think of Doug ... then the other stuff,” Paul finally admitted.

When I didn’t respond, Paul let it drop and conversation died out. I drove the Merc to Mary’s condo where Paul’s car was. After he got out I waved goodbye then sat there, wondering if I should let Mary out of the trunk now Paul’s seat was free. The thought of the seat being free made me imagine Mary sitting there. Thinking of Mary sitting there made me wonder what it would have been like if Mary hadn’t done what she’d done, which brought me back to the story Paul had told. Suddenly it clicked. Paul was saying his friend was in a S&M relationship, I know he was! I sat on the horn to get Paul’s attention before he could drive away.

When he stopped, I put the Merc in gear and pulled up beside him. “Can you come to my place? I know I’ve asked a lot of you already, but...” I was on the verge of unloading my thoughts and fears on Paul right there and I had to stop myself.

“Sure, dude. No problem. Might be a good idea anyway. Mom’s gonna be a pain in the ass about having to ride around in the trunk so any help I can be ... Hey are you gonna ... you know, like strip her and stuff when we get to your place?”

“It can wait, if you’re uncomfortable,” I said automatically, not even focusing on him and whether he was excited or reluctant. “Meet me there, okay? And thanks again. You’re like my only friend right now,” I admitted. I didn’t even wait for a response. I just needed to get home. Paul followed me.

At my house I popped the trunk and watched as Mary clambered out. I’d had a few minutes to compose myself and this time I focused on how Mary acted rather than what she said or did. I knew she’d be feeling sorry for herself and I knew she took no personal responsibility regarding her predicament. She’d said as much at the café. I tried and succeeded in ignoring her tear-stained face, thinking of what Paul said about, ‘crocodile tears’.

Mary didn’t even look around. She seemed to have no interest in whether or not anyone saw her exit the trunk and she didn’t even do it gracefully. She just did it quickly. I’m sure she gave Paul as much of a look at her panties as she gave me before she wiggled her skirt back into place and patted her hair self consciously. If I hadn’t been so consumed with what was going on in my head, I would have laughed. Paul did though. He saw the same humor in her actions as I did.

“Jeez mom, you’re not getting ready for a visit from the president. You just spent 20 minutes in the trunk of your own car. You look like shit, your makeup’s fucked and you laddered your stocking. Deal with it.”

“Paulie, I don’t know why you’re being so mean to me. I didn’t do anything to you.” For the first time, Mary then actually focused on me – which was a step up from grudgingly acknowledging me. “Mikey, can we go inside? I’ll use the bathroom and fix myself up for you, okay?”

Mary was doing something I seemed to have myself lost the ability to do – she was trying to take control of the situation. She was faking politeness in the hope that she’d get her way since she’d realized bullying me was not an option right now. Maybe the ride in the trunk had given her time to think about things.

I needed my mojo back, as Austin Powers would have said. One of our problems going back to when Mary and I were in a relationship was that we both wanted to control things. I’d given up control so I could watch Mary screw up. I’d been so arrogant that I’d thought my way was the only clear way. I’d sure found out I was wrong there! Now I had demanded authority and I didn’t know what to do with it. I decided I could at least reflect Mary’s attitude to me back at her for the time being.

“Just kneel ... um ... pussy face. Yeah, kneel and be a good little girl,” I added, pleased with my first clear instruction.

“But I’ll ruin my skirt!” Mary objected.

I could tell she was going to say something else and a big part of me was ready to argue with her that it didn’t matter if she ruined her skirt. In that instant, I saw the conversation in my head. Mary would plead to be allowed to just go inside and shut herself in the bathroom to, ‘clean up for me’ and I would give in because I’d become a pushover. Then I’d have a hell of a time getting her back out of the bathroom. But that wouldn’t happen immediately. Not until after I’d tried to make her understand that she’d given up control to me and I was the one in charge. More like I was trying to convince myself than her. She already knew the score, even if she couldn’t accept blame for it.

“Your skirt’s more important to you than your knees?” The question popped out of my head before I’d given myself time to analyze it.

“No, you idi ... that’s silly,” Mary spat, derision strong in her voice even though she’d tried to stop herself from calling me an idiot and avoided unleashing the verbal tirade she’d usually hurl at me. Maybe she needed a much longer ride in the trunk, I wondered to myself.

“Ah, mom. You’d better do as he says. You can’t say he wasn’t always quick to do what you said,” Paul tossed in.

I was grateful to Paul. Despite what he’d told his mom, he had chosen sides. My side. I was eternally grateful for that. Mary glanced around for the first time, satisfied that no one was watching her submit in any way, then slowly dropped to her knees on my concrete driveway.

I had no plan. I just offered up a command and because Paul had backed me up, Mary had submitted. It still felt good to have her submit, even if it was only because Paul and I outnumbered her.

“You said you have a friend who’s into the slave and master thing?” I asked Paul as casually as I could, trying to mask my excitement at the idea that had popped into my head.

One thing my life as a fuck toy had taught me was that it really didn’t matter what those around me thought of me. From the ones in charge to the casual observer, I just didn’t respect myself enough to care anymore. I could still appreciate the humiliation of submission, but the thought of being laughed at or taunted just didn’t have any bite to it. That concern had been beaten out of me – so I could hold a conversation with Paul right on my driveway with Mary kneeling between us and not worry about what the neighbors might think. Of course Paul hadn’t learned that and HE WAS uncomfortable.

Yeah. I guess. Can we go inside, dude?” He asked, nervously looking around, the idea of onlookers now outweighing his urge to help me dominate his mom.

“Mary, heel!” I said, pulling from my supply of the commands Mary had taught me over the years.

We went inside. Mary didn’t try to stand. She just crawled beside and slightly behind me as she’d taught me to do with her. She did one thing I was NEVER allowed to do though and I didn’t take issue with it. I probably should have. She kept her toes off the ground, probably to save her expensive looking shoes. I knew from experience that crawling like that was harder than allowing your feet to touch the pavement so if she wanted to make life harder for herself, who was I to complain?

As soon as the door closed behind Paul, his demeanor changed. It was like he didn’t need to pretend anything any more. “So is mom gonna strip or whatever? She always made you do that inside the house,” he justified his question – unnecessarily in my mind.

I realized that when he’d asked the same question earlier, he’d been excited at the idea of seeing his mom in her underwear or maybe even less. This kid had mommy issues but not the wimp sort I’d believed he had when I last knew him.

“You heard your son, Mary. He’s right.”

“But I can’t do that in front of him. It’s not right!”

Paul came to my rescue yet again. I would have argued with Mary about her ideas of what was right but he jumped in and told her that she needed do what she was told and left it there. Sure, it was self-serving on his part but it achieved my objectives and reminded me that I didn’t need to justify my every word or action in regard to Mary.

It was all Mary needed to hear. Not the whining or justifications I would have uttered. She already knew the score. After a long look at Paul, Mary, still on her knees, reached for the top button of her blouse.

“Make it sexy, mom! Come on. You have to do it anyway, so you may as well have fun with it!”

I know Mary was thinking that the only ones having fun would be me and Paul then I amended the thought to just Paul. Mary probably wouldn’t even consider my feelings about seeing her disrobe. My thinking was reinforced when she shakily got to her feet and began to remove her blouse. She was supposed to be doing it for me, but even though she refused to look at Paul, she was more facing him than me.

I wasn’t to be considered. She’d prefer to do what she had no choice in, for her own boy rather than for her ex-slave. That pushed a button or two for me.

“Hey Paul, put some music on. She can do it properly and you can take some pictures of her shaking her tits for you, since she seems intent on ignoring me and would prefer to expose herself to her own son.”

Mary stopped mid button, possibly realizing that I was right. That didn’t stop her from reluctantly resuming her striptease for Paul rather than me once the music began playing, blushing profusely in humiliation as she did.

This time it was Paul that was beginning to be distracted while I tried to talk to him about his friend. Mary’s blouse came open and underneath she wore a pretty, red lace bra. Paul confirmed that yes, his friend lived the, ‘lifestyle’, as he referred to it. His girlfriend, Becky, was all about being tied up and treated like property, just like I’d been. The only difference, he said was that Becky seriously got off on Doug’s treatment and he was very protective of her.

He completely lost his train of thought when Mary slid her skirt off. I didn’t doubt he’d seen his mom in a bikini before but seeing her in a bikini was probably different than seeing her in tiny, lacy lingerie and stockings. Seeing her doing a very poor dance while she stripped – more of an uncoordinated sway than a dance – didn’t seem to bother him in the least. Paul didn’t even remember to take his first picture until Mary reached behind her to pop the catch of her bra.

Unlike a striptease, Mary didn’t tease at all. She just dropped the bra, allowing her son to see her tits for the first time since he’d been a baby.

“Really Mary?” I said, stopping her from going further. “If I’d stripped like you’re doing, you would have whipped me. Well you would have whipped me anyway since you seem to enjoy that shit so much but you get the idea. It just seems like you’re trying to give me every excuse to hurt you too.”

“It’s not like that Mikey. I’d do better but Paulie...”

“You’re full of shit, Mary and stop calling me MIKEY! I always hated that name! It’s getting you excited to be stripping for Paul because he’s a red-blooded man and I’m not. Well you MADE me this way but the point is that as long as you’re the center of attention you don’t give a fuck about taking your clothes off. So put your bra back on.”

I certainly didn’t have to tell her twice and she didn’t argue about what I said. Instead, she immediately stooped, picked up her bra and began to slip it back on before the echo of my words had died in the room. It was clipped before Paul even opened his mouth to weakly protest, knowing after all that he was protesting the thought that his mom wasn’t going to strip for him.

“It’s okay, Paul. Mary’s just going to do it properly, aren’t you Mary?”

Mary didn’t bother replying to my question, as if my questions didn’t count.

“Would you be able to stand getting a nice lap dance from your mom while she strips the way she should have in the first place? I know you want to see her naked and more and that’s certainly understandable.”

In a way I felt bad that I’d given up Paul’s, ‘not-so-secret’ secret desire for intimacy with his mom but I thought that if Mary knew her son had the hots for her, she’d put more effort in. It seems I was close to being wrong. Mary straddled her son but wouldn’t grind herself against him and she was certainly having second thoughts about exposing her tits to him again. Paul took it upon himself to pull her hard onto his lap after popping her a good one on her panty clad ass, which certainly got Mary’s attention.

“Paulie! What the hell are you doing?! I’m still your mother!”

“Not for at least the next month, Mary,” Paul laughed, grabbing her hips and forcefully grinding her ass on his lap. “Get busy! Mike says you strip so you’d better do a good job or face the consequences!”

“Mike’s not gonna do anything. You and I both know that,” Mary tried to whisper to Paul so I wouldn’t hear.

I did pretend not to hear. I mean she was right anyway. I’d been pussified by her over a 3 year period. That’s what I was trying to have a conversation with Paul about. I needed my own re-education. I’d bluffed and blundered my way into having Mary in my clutches and now Paul was reaping the rewards of that effort much more than I was. The only thing that seemed to work for me when it came to dominating Mary, was when she pushed what few hot buttons I had left within my personality.

While I was pretending not to hear Mary telling her son what a wimp she’d turned me into, Paul was defending me. He seemed to be a natural at this. “Mike doesn’t really NEED to do anything,” he whispered back loudly enough for me to hear.

“You fucked him over so badly that he could use 6 months of physical and psychological care and yet here he is, once again because of YOU. He saved your ass – kept you out of jail – and you’re not even grateful. So you know what? Until we figure out how to get the original Mikhail back, I’m going to make it my business to ensure you don’t get off easy. Anything he’s okay with, I’m going to subject you to. Like my dick right now. Feel how hard I am right now? And your tits and pussy are still covered too. Just think how hard I’m going to be when you’re going down on me!”