Chapter 8

The following week went better for the two mothers and worse for the two boys. They ran their sons ragged with chores and lectures. The teens weren’t allowed to meet. They were told to stay away from each other even at school, and they had to return home right away!

On the first day of punishment, they rebelliously shared lunch at school and groused. “Mom made me climb under the house and spray all the spiders there.” Sam chomped his tuna sandwich bitterly.

“Mom told me I had to go to a shrink.”

“CRAP! Are you gonna tell what happened.”

“Hell no, Rudy convinced her I just needed alone time.”

“What, did your step-dad find out?”

“Not really, just that I spanked Mom’s butt when I thought he wasn’t looking.”

“You’re lucky.” Sam chewed, risking death by eating while talking. “This afternoon, I have to scrub the bathroom, ‘until every tile shines’, is what Mom said.”

“Yeah, that sucks. My mom took away all of my games, and she monitors me on the computer. I’m suppose to only use it for homework.”

“It was worth it, wasn’t it?”

“Hells yeah!” Joey grinned. They shared double high-fives. Despite the rebellion each boy pretended to show, they were basically happy that their moms hadn’t cut off their cocks and balls. The women were reticent to punish them any more seriously than grounding them and giving them chores, lest the other mother discovered their rapes. “Are we ever gonna make them our slaves?”

Sam swallowed the tuna-bread mush in his mouth. “I don’t know, but I’m working on it.” He fingered the string tied around his wrist, contemplating.

“Uh,” Joey didn’t want Sam to be the only one sounding cool. “I’ll work on my mom too.”

In the afternoon, when Sam returned from school, he started scrubbing the bathroom. His mother arrived at her usual hour. “That’s a decent start, Sam.” She inspected his work.

“Aw, Mom. I scoured everything twice!”

“You’ll have to bleach the stains on the grout. Be sure to wear gloves.” She turned her frown to the kitchen. “I’ll make supper.” She was still wearing the string on her wrist.

Eleanor touched her string several times during their meal. She didn’t seem to be aware of doing so. Sam worked on his corned beef and potatoes and cabbage, silently, observing her when she wasn’t looking. She finished eating before he did, a rare thing, but she had taken half of what she normally put on her plate. Was she dieting?

Sam was chewing the last bite from his plate when his mother told him. “Clear the table and set the dishes in the washer. See me in my room before starting it.” She plucked the string on her wrist, but it made no sound. Then she was up from the table and out of the kitchen.

His mother sat on her bed studying several lengths of rope in her hands. She frowned at his entrance. “Let’s get this over with.” Eleanor took charge. “You may only tie my hands and feet. I hid a knife nearby. Don’t try to find it. If you break your promise, I’ll cut myself free.”

Sam limited all signs of his excitement and relief to the bulge in his pants. “I won’t, Mom. Now take off your clothes.” He tried to usurp her authority.

“No, Son. I can’t trust you that much.”

“Maybe tomorrow.” He didn’t give up.

“I only agreed to one day.” Eleanor reminded him. “One hour.”

“Aw, Mom, that wasn’t the deal.” Sam pouted. “I should tell Joey that you lied, but I won’t. At least let me tie you up a couple more days.”

Eleanor hated little squabbles. She conceded, “We’ll see how I feel tomorrow.” She lay on her back and held her wrists and ankles together. She glanced at the clock. “You have sixty minutes. Don’t forget to start the dishwasher.”

“I won’t.” Sam quickly tied his mother’s hands and feet. Then he returned to the kitchen and started the dishwasher. He waited another fifteen minutes before sneaking back. He peeked in on her from the hall.

Even before she heard the dishwasher start, Eleanor felt the day’s stress sinking out of her. She had missed simply being roped up and left alone, not for too long, but long enough for mental toxins to languish. She closed her eyes but kept her ears alert. She had actually hid two knives, one under each pillow. If her son tried to get one, she’d get the other and be free in a flash.

At about the ten minute mark, Eleanor wished there were more ropes around her and that they were tighter. Her enjoyment was limited, knowing that she wasn’t really helpless on her bed. All she had to do was wait out her boredom of the two simple bindings, and she wouldn’t have to deal with her son’s nonsense ever again.

Soft padding across the carpet, along the wall with her dresser alerted her to her son’s presence. About five feet from her, at the wall by her dresser, clothes ruffled and then she heard light slapping. She kept her eyes closed. “You promised you wouldn’t do anything.”

“This ain’t anything, Mom. I’m not doing it to you.” Sam licked his lips at the sight of his fully clothed, bound mother. He had a fresh memory of her naked, plump body to imagine being tied like she was.

Eleanor’s cheeks tinged with light pink. She got a little aroused by the embarrassment of having her son masturbate while she lay tied up on her bed. “If you stop doing that I’ll let you hold me.” She was feeling a little lonely too. Her husband hadn’t been one to tie her up and leave her. He was too loving, and she didn’t get any thrill from abandonment.

“Okay.” The slapping stopped and she felt her son climb on the bed. “Can I hug you from behind?” Hugging her from the side wasn’t particularly comfortable, she guessed. “Yes.” She was able to turn away from him without his help.

His arms snaked around her belly just below her breasts. “See how Mommy can be nice when you- Aa!” Something hard poked where her pants covered her bottom. “I shouldn’t have assumed you would put your clothes back on.” She vented exasperation. At least her pants were secure.

“I’ll have to let go to zip up.”

“Eh,” Eleanor’s slight enjoyment of the two ropes binding her was endanger. “Just don’t rub it on me.” She ordered.

“Okay.” Sam grinned. His mother sure liked to keep her eyes closed when being tied up. He closed his eyes to focus on the warmth between him. His hard peter wished he hadn’t stopped rubbing it. He adjusted its position, pressing its length along the cleft of her cheeks.

“Hey!” His mother warned. “Careful what you’re doing there.”

“I’m not rubbing it.” He was just sorta pressing it along her groove and relaxing, instead of up and down.

“You’re humping me.” Eleanor wished she’d told him to stop humping her, but the embarrassment of his tiny transgression was difficult to give up.

“Not much.” He hugged her a little harder but kept the same pace of pushing his naked erection along her clothed butt cheeks. It felt good, but he wasn’t getting off from the light, repeated contact. Sam’s goal was to get his mom to enjoy the pleasures she denied herself.

Sam’s arms were a comfort, more so than two loops binding her hands and feet. Eleanor sighed. A work day’s worth of stress continued to seep out of her. “Thank you for working hard in the bathroom.” She wanted him to know, even though cleaning the room had been punishment, she appreciated him.

“I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, Sweetheart.” Her body felt increasingly relaxed. “Don’t think I’m done punishing you.”

“No, Momma.” He was at heart, a very sweet boy, the working mom believed. If only...

Sam felt his mother relax more and more into his arms. When she started to snore, a little grin crossed his lips.

I must have drifted off. Eleanor’s eyes blinked revealing a twilight room. There was a warmth in her chest. Young hands slowly rubbed the front of her blouse, and pleasant tingles crept out of her breasts, especially from her sensitive nipples. She should tell her son to stop, but she was feeling sooo relaxed and happy. Yes, happy. The guilt of having to leave him alone during the day was trying to resolve itself by letting Sam share a simple pleasure with her. Her hips slowly hunched back against the hard peter that had not stopped pushing lightly upon her rear. The young thing was really hard. She knew that erections, in and of themselves, were not painful, but just a little rubbing might ease its urgency.

Wow, Mom’s rubbing me! Sam had felt very sly, trying to discover how long he could fondle his mother’s titties before she woke up. He hadn’t expected her to gently grind on his penis with her butt. Was she actually still asleep? “Mom?”

“Shhhh.” She whispered, and gave her son’s erection a tad more friction. “Just a little bit.” She told him.

Sam dared to counter his mother’s motion with a little up and down humping. His penis rubbed its length through her slightly rough, polyester covered butt. His hands increased their motions on her bra protected tits.

“We should stop, Honey. It’s been almost an hour.”

“You promised an hour, Mom.” He chided her lightly, and humped her pants a little more firmly.

“I shouldn’t have excited you.” She felt sorry instead of irritated that her boy kept pushing her limits. “J-just don’t cum on Mommy, okay? I just washed these pants.”

“Where can I cum?” What surprised Sam was how quickly he might orgasm. He was hardly doing anything naughty or sex with his mother. Yet their warm touches and slightly naughty conversation were incredibly arousing.

“When you untie my wrists, Sammy, Mommy will let you cum in her hands.” She hadn’t called her son, “Sammy,” for many years. He told her to stop calling him that, when his father died. The memory made her choke up a little. A couple tears wet her eyes.

“I may not last that long.” There was still ten minutes left for her to be tied up.

“Sam?” Elanor gulped back the sob that was trying to escape her throat. “Would you cum in Mommy’s mouth?”

“Huh-??” REALLY! The shocked boy chopped off his outburst.

“I won’t suck you, but I - I don’t want to have to wash the comforter again.” Actually, she had made her son wash it, late the previous night.

“Uh, okay.”

“If you hug me from the front. I’ll let you rub on my hands.”

Was this the breakthrough Sam had been hoping for? His mom wasn’t a sex slave by any definition, but she was acting more and more like a slut for him. He pulled his arms and hips away from his mother and carefully climbed over her. Then he wrapped one arm over her top elbow and the other around her lower shoulder. He kissed her nose and worked his hips closer to her bound hands. Sam didn’t notice the close proximity to her crotch. Her soft palm was not much longer than the hard peter it accepted. He did feel her hand jostle slightly as if she was resisting rubbing him.

Actually, Eleanor was masturbating herself with her other hand. When she heard herself ask if he would cum in her mouth, she couldn’t stop one hand from pressing into her crotch and rubbing her hard clit. Moisture from her aroused loins seeped through her pants and wet her gentle fingers. When her son’s penis began rubbing the palm of her other hand, she had to repress a groan.

Sam tried to figure out why simply rubbing on his mother hand was so exciting. Was the reason linked to his anticipation of cumming in her mouth, or maybe her acceptance of him pushing her boundaries. All he could be sure of, was the friction from her palm, his hips humping faster and faster. Soft grunts escaped his throat.

“Uh- are you, um, ready?” His mom asked.

Pleasure flared brightly in the boy’s loins. “Yes!” He scrambled up and aimed his throbbing cock. His mother opened her mouth a tiny bit late, and the first glob from his ejaculating manhood swatted her upper cheek. Then hot wetness enveloped his spitting snake and Sam groaned loudly. “Ohhhh, Mommmma!” He shouted. “Don’t spill a drop, AAAhhhh!!”

Eleanor was surprised by her unexpectedly powerful orgasm. Her torso lurched on the bed, and she fought to keep her head and lips secured around the flared head of her son’s semen launching organ. The taste of her son’s cum, fresh from his balls, pushed her orgasm into a higher orbit. She growled from pulsing thrills flowing up from her loins, and she sucked and swallowed every bolt and squirt from her son’s prick.

Sam held his mother’s head while his satisfied cock softened in her mouth. He was so amazed by his mother’s strong reaction, he kept warning, “There might be more.” The glow of her orgasm gave her a blank gaze. She stopped sucking, but her tongue occasionally licked the slit of his dick’s head. Eventually, she spit out his drained member.

They lay on the bed, catching their breath. Not long thereafter, Sam said, “I’m gonna tie you up again, tomorrow.”

His mother’s face turned bright red, and she gave a single, shallow nod. “But don’t think we’ll do what happened today.” She warned. The day’s submission to their mutual, incestuous lust would continue to shame her for the next few days.

That same evening, when Rudy Tucker returned home from work, Joey was studying. The boy hated it, but he just couldn’t shake his mother’s stalking. He was reading an interesting paragraph in his history book about the ways that Europeans abused the natives. The most effective way had been to set indigenous nations against each other. A hushed argument in the living room caught his attention.

“You’re still mad at me?” Rudy clamored.

“Shhh.”

Rudy had gone out of his way to forget discovering Joey spanking his mother’s behind! It had happened when they thought he had left for work, but he turned back to get an apple for a snack. “Stop it!” He’d overheard his wife. Peeking into the kitchen, he saw Joey give a last strike of his hand. “It can’t hurt that bad, Mom.” Confused by the scene, Rudy interrupted carefully. “Is everything all right in here?” His wife’s answer was curt. “Yes, Rudy. I’m handling it.” She never allowed Rudy to discipline Joey. During their breakfast, she had given the boy a bevy of chores, punishment for an unspoken transgression. Rudy had kept his eyes on his slice of quiche, stewing in guilt for his recent negligence. When faced with his step-son’s aggression towards his mother, he could only give the boy a stern look. That evening, he reassured his wife. “I can wait for your forgiveness.”

“Just a few more days, Honey. I-I just don’t feel-” Charlene Tucker couldn’t tell her husband that her ass was still purple in some places and yellow in others. She didn’t dare let him see it!

“Honey, it’s okay. I’m just missing our closeness. I took your husband’s name when we married, because you didn’t want Joey growing up with a father who had a different family name. I thought I could redeem it, for both of you. I still love you that much.”

“That still means the world to me, Sweetheart, but if I don’t stand firm after what you did, I’ll blame myself if you get that drunk again.

“I understand, but can I at least hug you?”

Joey acted on instinct. “Hey, MOM! Why did people who ran away from religious injustice treat First Americans so badly?”

“We’ll talk later, Rudy.” Mom scurried to answer her son’s question. The boy was actually engaged with learning, and she should reinforce his interest promptly! It also made the perfect excuse to escape her husband’s more than reasonable request. She entered her son’s room without knocking.

Joey was sitting at his little desk, gazing at a picture of a native woman being threatened by two European men. He was half naked and stroking a proud erection. He looked at his Mom. “Sorry! I didn’t think you’d come in.”

Charlene grumbled. “Put on your pants.” The boy had begun exposing himself when he though she was about to check up on him. She defeated his perverse tactic by simply ignoring his hard, jutting prick, but now her husband was in the house.

Joey reached for his shorts. “But what about my question?”

His mother smirked while he raised the pants at his ankles. “If I remember rightly, the colonists considered Indians to be savages. They often lied about Indian attacks on white people, to justify killing whole tribes.”

Joey was about to pull his shorts over his hips but let go of them. He looked aghast at his mother. “You said a bad word.”

“No I didn’t.” What game was her son playing now?

“Come here and I’ll show you.”

“Put that away first.”

Joey zipped up his pants and turned his history book to the first page of the chapter. “See, right here!” He pointed.

Charlene kept a wary eye on her son as she approached him.

“Although many people today refer to Native Americans as ‘Indians,’ the word is considered an insult to the surviving peoples.” Joey read.

“What do you know?” Charlene had heard some such before, but she grew up calling them Indians. “You’re right, Joey. I’m sorry. I’ll say Native Americans from now on.”

Her son turned a glee filled face to her. “I can punish you, right, Mom?” He didn’t wait for her reply. “Should I make you eat soap, or should I spank you?”

The boy’s mother felt a strange sensation below her tummy. It was a twinge of excitement. “Don’t be ridiculous, and finish up your homework. Supper will be ready soon.” She turned abruptly and left the room so quickly, Charlene didn’t hear her son snicker behind her back.

At the dinner table, Joey studied how his mom and step-dad acted with each other. Rudy clearly wanted to make up for his mistake, but his mom kept refusing him. It was all non-verbal. Hands reached and were dismissed with firm taps. Eye sought forgiveness from eyes that refused to accept their gaze. At one point the boy said, “Why don’t you back off a little, Rudy? Mom’s not ready.”

“Joey!” Charlene barked. “Go to your room.”

“I was just trying to help.”

“Go to your room!” She stood up glaring.

“Charlene, that’s a little harsh, isn’t it?” Rudy tried to calm her.