Chapter 5

Near dusk, Mother found us wiping picture frames and polishing furniture. She studied our work in minute detail. “What’s left on the checklist?”

“I think we got it all, Ruth.” Words I never would have spoken to her.

She had pinned the list to the refrigerator, with a magnet. Studying it, she coughed. “Did you sand the crossbeams?”

“I don’t remember that on the list.” Andrew cocked his head.

Mother looked at me. “You didn’t tell him?”

“I was washing the rugs out back.”

“Excuses!” She told her grandson, “That’s part of the room scrubbing. The humidity weakens the surface of those two timbers. Even if you oil them, you have to sand them once a year and apply fresh oil.

“Sorry. I’ll get to it after supper.”

“You’ll have to move out half of the furniture again to avoid drips.” She shook her head. “I don’t blame you, Grandson.” Until then, she had called him, Andy. “I see I should have been more specific. I trusted your mother to remember something that important. I was wrong.” She sighed and looked at her daughter. “You look proper worn out today, Ingrid. You can’t be expected to remember everything. I’ll help you in the kitchen.”

A dreadful line was crossed, when Mother started blaming herself and took direct control.

Mom whipped up a mean Au Gratin, while I baked porkchops and sautéed green beans. After eating the moderate but tasty meal. She supervised us to clear the table and wash the dishes. She didn’t say anything, just scrutinized every task. When the last fork was placed in the drying rack, I waited.

“Thank you.” She said and walked into her not quite perfectly reset living room.

I trudged into the shower. When I was done, Andrew took his. He found me under the top sheet, with the duvet folded down to the end of the bed. He crawled in next to me, not touching. “I’m beat.”

We didn’t sleep. Somehow, Andrew knew I was waiting. The clock struck nine. Mother called from the closed door. “Ingrid, see me in my room, will you?”

I climbed out naked and grabbed my houserobe. I had pulled it out of my suitcase and laid it across the back of a chair, before crawling into bed.

“Mom?” My son watched me cover myself.

“Try to sleep, Andrew. I may be a while.” I exited the room. I found mother wearing a thick, white terrycloth robe. She sat on her bed, beside her lay a ‘gift’ I hadn’t seen in years.

“Close the door behind you, Daughter, and lock it.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Come here, Child.” She patted her lap.

I took off my robe and folded it neatly. Placing it at the foot of her bed, I turned and bent down, across her lap.

“Sweetheart, I love you.” She patted my backside with a warm hand.

“I know, Momma.”

“I’m not doing this for you. It’s too late for that. You’ve grown and built a good life for yourself. I’m proud of you.” She kept her voice low. “Your son is becoming a fine young man.”

“Thank you, Mother. I owe it to you. You raised me better than anyone could have.” I whispered.

“He’s outside. Isn’t he.” She whispered next to my ear.

I nodded. We both knew our offspring wouldn’t have remained in bed, no matter how tired he was.

Mother pick up the instrument. “Try to relax.”

I tried. I really tried.

When the hickory wand smote a red line across my backside, I cried out, “OOWWWW!!” My cheeks jiggled for several seconds after its impact.

“Don’t hold back, Daughter. I won’t.” She struck my bare cheeks again. CRACK!

“YAAAA!!!”

CRACK!!

I howled. “OOOOooooo!!”

CRACK!

“OOWWWW!”

“You forgot to count, Sweetheart.” I have to give you twenty more for forgetting.

CRACK!

“FOORRREEE!!”

“Good girl.” SWACK!! She hit harder when she praised me.

“FYIIIIVVE!”

By the tenth stroke, I was bawling, but I never forgot to count.

After the first twenty, she rubbed an astringent into my welts. It burned deep. My tears were continuous streams.

CRACK!!

CRACK!!

CRACK!!

She paused again when my count reached fifty. She rubbed more of the burning liniment into the raised lines across my ass. Mother was careful not to strike the same line more than three times. “Should we stop now, Child, or do you want the full count tonight?”

I knew better. “I need to finish it, Mommy.” I cried.

“That’s right, Ingrid. It’s always better to finish things while they’re in front of us.” Mother praised me loud enough for Andrew to hear. SWACK!! She struck out of rhythm. She put all her strength behind that strike.

“OOooowwww...” I blubbered. “Fifty one.”

Then mother did something she’d never done before. She plucked one of my hands by the wrist and drew it down my body. Shifting her seat for better access, she pushed my hand under my belly and between my legs. “I hate that you’re suffering so. You used to hurry to your room after corrections. I know what you did then. If it still comforts you, it’s okay. It won’t slow my hand one bit.”

SWACK!!

“FIIIIIFFFFy two!” I howled. My hand discovered the wetness of my pussy and went right to work. Over the course of my last, additional twenty swats, I drew three orgasms from the cunt that was slowly taking over my identity.

SWACK!!!

“SSSSSEEEVENTYYY, EIGHT!” I could barely speak. My eyes had run out of tears. My loins gave no further pleasure. My body thrummed, consumed with pain.

SWACK!!

“SS-HHHEEH-venty nine.”

For the last swat, she pressed her lips to my flaming ass. “Eighty.” She declared. Instead of liniment, she spread soft, cold cream over my wounds. I cried and cried without tears. Mother hugged me and kissed my face repeatedly.

“Is it finished, Mommy? Did we finish?” I rasped.

“Yes, Ingrid.” She spoke openly. “You’re back in my good graces.”

“Thank you, Mommy. I’m going to be good. I will be. I promise.”

“You are, Darling.

I awoke at seven AM, in my mother’s bed, her arm around me. Getting up, I struggled into my robe and shuffled to the door. I was allowed to skip showering these mornings. I peeked into the guest room. Andrew snored soundly under the covers. Somehow I managed to put breakfast on the table in time.

“Grandson, you’re coming with me, this morning. It’s time you learned the nuts and bolts of things you operate.” Mother pulled a mouthful of coffee from her mug.

“What’s Mom going to do?” Upon seeing me that morning, Andrew regarded me with dreadful concern.

“I’ll put her worksheet on the refrigerator before we leave. Finish your plate, and let’s go.”

“Okay, Ruth.”

“Call me, Grandma. It’ll be easier for you.”

My son’s eyes bulged. He’d never experienced the full force of my mother’s will.

The list of tasks she left me were lighter, but they would fill every minute of the day, even if I weren’t hobbled by an ass dark from welts.

I worked steadily, without fail, grabbing fruit and nuts for lunch, continuing the work. The day wore on. I wore out, but I pressed myself. I ached from excessive labor over the two days prior. The undaunted agony in my hips and spine, masked sore muscles and stretched ligaments. I worked.

Mother called to say she would be an hour late. That still wasn’t enough time, but I managed to complete the list. I signed it, an old habit from twenty years ago.

“I’m sorry for being late.” She breezed in. Andrew followed, looking like hell. “Some lessons didn’t take as quickly as I’d hoped.” She promised to make dinner to compensate for her delay. She went to the freezer in the shed out back, returning with three frozen dinners. They were expensive organic ones, a special treat to my mother’s thinking.

My son and I ate slowly. Mother matched our pace by sheer force of will. We spoke little. She told me she didn’t need to check my work. “I trust you.”

During the day, I also washed my work worn pajamas. My son watched me change into them, his eyes blank as concrete walls. Before Andrew fell asleep, he promised, “I’ll never collar you again.”

I felt just as wretched the next day, and the next. Mother ratcheted up our workload exponentially. In one day we cleaned the attic and the guest room. The next, we cleaned her bedroom and reorganized the shed and garage.

“It’s Saturday. What shall we do?” Mother announced that morning. It was the first day I could sit down without wincing.

We spent the morning at two local museums, one historical, one of the arts. She bought us lunch at a crab shack. That afternoon, we strolled five miles through the city’s largest park. We’d left a lamb roast defrosting in the refrigerator. I cooked peas and carrots, mashed potatoes, and sweet corn on the cob, while she carefully broiled it. After dinner, we watched more of the costume drama she and Andrew had started.

“I’m going to bed, Grandma.” Andrew said as soon as the credits rolled.

“You can sleep in, tomorrow.” Mother instructed.

I woke at seven am with my son’s arm around me. I lay there for half an hour, grateful for a moment all to myself. Andrew stirred and withdrew his arm. I huddled, turned away from him. His bedclothes rustled. There was a slight jangle. I swallowed.

He slipped the collar around my neck and locked it. “Open you legs, Mother.” He wriggled up and spooned me. My son’s hard cock pressed into my sore asscheek. He waited.

I couldn’t talk. My mind blanked. My right leg lifted.

“I need you to show me, Mom.”

One hand reached between my open legs and caught the head of my son’s flaring prick. He eased it through my thighs. My hand guided it past the hairs of my nest and into my vulva. My vagina was dry. “Wait, Honey.” I slid his head up and down the warm slit, to occupy him and stimulate lubrication. I pressed and rubbed it several times against my hard clitoris.

Andrew’s heart raced and his breathing matched it. “What’s happening, Mom? Tell me.”

“I’m almost there. Can you feel it getting ready?”

“Yeah. It’s growing wet.” His said with ragged breath.

“For you, Andrew. It’s getting wet for you.”

“Aaaauuggghhhffff.” He suddenly groaned. Cum spurted out of his dick and along the groove of my pussy. He shot three times before I aimed it away from my wanting cunt. I held on, trying to catch every drop in my hand. It pulsed happily, spewing for lingering seconds.

“Oh my god, Mom. I can’t believe that happened!”

“You do realize, a chance like this may never occur again?” I warned.

“Not if I can help it.” He said stupidly.

“Pull the covers away, Andrew. My hands are messy.”

He was careful to keep them from dragging against my behind. Some of his cum dribbled out there. My right hand kept it from reaching the sheets. I didn’t put on a show, but I licked every drop of incestuous sperm from my hands. I reached between my legs for a second helping.

“Next time, Mom, push it into your pussy.” He urged hoarsely.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I chinned the collar away from my neck, and he unlocked it.

The dresser clock chimed eight o-clock. I rose, showered quickly, dressed, and entered the kitchen.

Mother read the paper while I fixed French toast and turkey sausages. “I don’t approve.” She muttered.

“What?” I asked setting the table.

Two teams, baseball and soccer are fighting for access to the sports arena. The world would be a better place if society emphasized games of cooperation rather than conflict.”

“That’s something Andrew knows a lot about.” He loved to play co-op games.

“What, Mom?” The devil himself arrived.

“Good morning, Grandson.” Mother greeted him with a smile and folded the paper. She reached over and laid it on the counter. Andrew sat at his designated place.

“It’s Sunday,” I trolled, “Chew every morsel ten times.” I placed dishes laden with food between our plates.

“Rest is for the wicked-” Mother started. I chimed in. “Relaxing is for the accomplished.”

Breakfast stretched out for over an hour.

“How are you holding up?”

“Barely.” Her grandson didn’t lie. “Mom’s incredible!”

“She’s adequate, Child. Any greater praise will go to her head.”

“Mother, I’m going to visit Lila today. I’ll bake cookies before I go.”

“I’m a little upset about her, Ingrid. She’s been regularly irresponsible for a few years now.”

“She’s having trouble with Eric.” I spoke without thinking.

“How would you know that?” Mother stabbed.

“Um, we talked, briefly, a few days ago.”

“Is she well? I haven’t seen her in weeks.”

“I’m not sure. That’s one reason for seeing her today.”

“She likes gingerbread cookies with caramel bits.”

“I’ll have to go to the store.”

“Take Andrew. I’ll get things ready in the kitchen. Be back in an hour. I have a surprise for you both, this afternoon.”

I chuckled. “It’ll be faster if I leave him here.”

“Don’t contradict me.” Mother sliced.

“Andrew, clear the table and help me wash.”

“No.” Mother intervened. “I’ll do that. Change into something decent and go.” She scanned his sweats. “You too.”

Fifteen minutes later, my son and I rode away in Mother’s car. Funny, never in my life had she cautioned me to be careful with it, as if an accident’s result would be a pleasure to fix or junk at her discretion.

“What was that about?” Andrew wondered aloud.

“Best not to ask. Best to let her alone.”

“Have we been cramping her style? Maybe she’s got a boyfr-”

“Rip that thought out of your head. Your grandmother is a virgin. She bore me from her navel.” I pulled into the local market’s parking lot and stopped the engine.

He pulled the collar from the inner pocket of his jacket. “I’m going to put it loose on you. So it will rest as low as possible. Hide it with your coat collar.

“Andrew, we don’t have time for foolishness!” I objected. I ended up pushing a cart with one hand and clasping the top of my coat with the other.

“Isn’t it fun, Mom. Only you and I know.”

Fortunately, it was Sunday morning when most people were at church or still asleep. Only the grocers took notice of us. Most of them looked close to the end of their shift or hung over.

Andrew seemed content with my level of embarrassment. Other than having to shop with one hand, we made it out of the store in good time. “Thanks for buying the wooden clothespins.” I’d told him there were plenty at home. He argued, they weren’t his to do with as he liked.