Chapter 19

“Let’s talk about kissing? Okay? I don’t like French kissing anyone. It feels like something romantic that lovers do,” she sounded like she was trying to negotiate with me.

That was fair. We weren’t lovers.

“You aren’t a very good kisser though. I wish you kissed as well as you ate pussy. If you want to kiss me, let me at least teach you how to do it so it’s not wet and sloppy?”

That was a shocker.

“What about sex?” I asked.

“You do that pretty well. I wish you had more stamina. if you are okay with it, I don’t mind that at all.”

“I also wanted to ask about toilet paper,” she said. That was odd.

“You said earlier that I can’t use toilet paper anymore. Was that just for the camera or was that really for real?”

I was shocked after everything she was concerned about that right now. “That’s for real”

“My pussy is going to smell like Colgate, and it really stings, Sir,” Mom accepted my decision without any argument. “You said earlier that there was Cum Dumpster mode, and then you said I could be Loretta again and Mom. I am not sure I see the difference between being your mom and Loretta. Can you help me understand?”

“You told me before you didn’t want to write you a rule book,” I said. I tried to keep the “I told you so” look off of my face but I reminded her that this is what I was trying to do.

“Just explain it to me, please,” she said.

“Your default is Cum Dumpster. That’s what I want you to assume you are at all times unless I tell you otherwise,” I began. Mom nodded reluctant agreement. “If I put you in Bitchy Mode, I am going to dress you up like a puppy and walk you around on a leash. We’ll be doing that soon,” I said.

Mom nodded.

“If I put you in Loretta mode, you’ll stay obedient, but you can sit on the toilet, use toilet paper, eat at the table, walk around, pretty much as you did the first day. You still have to ask permission to use the bathroom or eat or drink. When in doubt, ask me, and I will tell you what to do. You can’t call me Jerry, and you need to refer to me as Sir or Master.”

Mom’s eyes twinkled a little as I said that.

“If I ever CALL you Mom, on accident or intentionally, then you get a full hour to do anything you like without restrictions. If we are doing something important, you’ll have to schedule it with me. If not, you can take it immediately or you can save it for use later.”

“Okay, that makes it really clear. Thank you, Sir. Can I tell you what to do as your Mom?”

“No.”

“Can I spend any of our money?”

“No.”

“Do I still have to do what you tell me then?”

“Minimally,” I said.

“I was hoping for this,” Mom said. “I could lose myself in cum dumpster mode and I was afraid you’d start to see me as this cum guzzling, cock sleeve that needs constant direction and grow tired of that.”

THAT’S WHY SHE DIDN’T WANT TO BE A CUM DUMPSTER FULL-TIME? MY MIND WAS LITERALLY BLOWING. I assumed that her reluctance was obviously due to the obvious difficulty and humiliation of living by these new rules.

“I hate to admit that I enjoy being a cum dumpster a little more than I probably should to make it fun for you. The interrogation was a blast. I didn’t want to end it, but you were so bad at kissing that I couldn’t take it any longer. You aren’t really torturing me fairly because you are mostly turning me on until I get super horny. The ruler stung a lot, and you nearly flattened my clit,” Mom said.

“I thought you were concerned about being a cum dumpster full time because you didn’t want to live this way full time?”

“I’ve literally never done anything quite as perverted or freaky as this. I am a little afraid that I am enjoying it and yes, a little afraid of waking up every day like this. There is a lot of it that I do not enjoy or want to do, but nothing that made me want to quit. What about you?”

“No,” I said, but obviously I had the easy part.

“You have the hardest part of it. You have to make all of the decisions, pay the bills, watch out for us both, think about the future, talk to the clients, collect the money, make the appointments, and then come up with things for me to do and boss me around. It sounds poopy. I wouldn’t blame you if you were already regretting the decision to help me.”

I chuckled and assured her that it was fine.

“Today, the guy that wanted to be a Latina maid asked if our deal was forever. I hadn’t thought that far out. Had you?”

“No.” I reminded her that his name was Matt.

“So, let’s say six weeks, six months, or six years from now, you decide that it’s time to move on and start your own life. You have me get used to living like this, and all of my clients get used to me being treated as a beloved house pet. What do I do? Just go back to struggling on my own?”

That was a great question. Was my mom really asking me to commit to this forever or was she asking me what the exit plan was?

“I said today that you just don’t’ get rid of a house pet. You love it forever. I am afraid you are stuck with me, Mom,” I said.

“Awww, I should have got you that puppy when you asked for it when you were twelve. Maybe then you wouldn’t want me to BE your puppy,” she grinned sweetly. “Seriously though, you’ll meet a girl, and she won’t want your crazy momma to come along sucking up all of your time, asking you to solve her problems, and interrogate me six nights a week.”

“Four nights,” I reminded her.

“Oh, too bad,” Mom teased. “If you are just going to tease me until I get horny, we can do it seven nights a week. I thought you were going to torture me as a kidnapper would,” Mom snickered.

“I am new at this; I also didn’t know you were such a touch bitch,” I said.

“You should have known I was a tough bitch. I raised one tough son on my own, Sir. I may have been terrible at math and keeping track of things, but I raised one hell of a son. I am not invincible. There are times I want to scream in terror, but so far, you’ve done more to turn me on and push my buttons than anything else. Four nights a week is good,” she smiled generously.

“If we ever need to think about ending this relationship, I am not going to just drop you off behind the car wash of the M&H Gas station and let you fend for yourself. I would probably keep you in Loretta mode until I felt you were ready to move on from there. You’d have enough money from the Only Fans by then to retire,” I promised.

“I know you wouldn’t, and I am being silly asking about it. You understand though my entire world is turned upside down. I was kind of the boss up until a week ago. I never really told you when to get up or go to school. You always were a good kid who made my job easy. You got yourself ready for school; you did your homework, you never got in trouble.”

“Kind of hard to run with a gang when you are in a wheelchair,” I said.

“Hey, the Crips might accept you,” Mom teased me by comparing the name of a notorious street gang with the fact that I am a cripple. My mom could get away with that joke with me – nobody else could.

“Funny,” I rolled my eyes.

“My point is that I was always just holding down the fort, hoping from one month to the next that I had enough to make rent, pay the bills and keep food on plates. The window for me to find a rich guy to marry closed a long time ago, and I’ve just been sort of coasting on what I know how to do – which is fuck for the last few years. I used to dread all the decisions, little ones or big ones it didn’t matter. What are we going to eat? Where are we going to go for your Birthday? What bill do I wait to pay and what bill do I pay now? Should I open that credit card and go splurge or is that stupid? Nah, obviously it’s not stupid, let me go ruin my credit. Stuff like that – the point is, I could make whatever decision.”

I nodded.

“Now, you are stepping up saying that I can’t even wipe my ass or use the bathroom when I want, and I’ve never had anyone tell me what to do. My parents tried. They wanted a puppy; they couldn’t handle what they got - a bulldog. I was headstrong and stubborn. Your father couldn’t tell me what to do. The more he did, the more I told him to eat a dick.”

“So why me?”

“I trust you; I am not sure I trusted them, and also back then, I thought I knew it all. I am old enough to know that I don’t.”

“I don’t either,” I assured her.

“I know, but at your age, I thought I did know it all, and that was way more dangerous. You are considerate. You put thought into things. You made all these rules, and I shit all over them, but really it impresses me that you’d even bother to try to add some order and discipline or whatever to this. I wouldn’t have thought of that. I just thought we’d make some sexy videos and see if anyone would pay a couple of dollars. I didn’t expect to get this far. Have we been at this a week?”

“Oh yes,” I said.

“I’ve lost all track of time. I’ve been more turned on, and excited than I’ve been in my whole life. I’ve always enjoyed sex but in the last few years I’ve been phoning it in. I can pretend to have an orgasm with the best of them, but I’ve had more real orgasms this week than I’ve had in a year. It’s all thanks to you. I go to sleep at night thinking about all the nasty things you made me do and wonder what you have in store for me the next day. It makes me feel really perverted and excited, then at times I feel guilty like I know I shouldn’t be doing this with you, and other times I feel so humiliated and disgusted with myself. It’s been confusing. This probably doesn’t make sense,” she said.

I assured her that I understood. I gave my mom some time in “Loretta mode” after that talk.

“Can I put on clothes?”

“Not unless I give you permission,” I said. “I’ll let you wear panties and a tank top, or an apron with nothing else underneath.”

“Can I play with myself,” she asked.

“Yes, but you can’t cum without permission,” I said.

“Can I use the bathroom?”

“No, when you need to poop, I want you to get your Bitchy outfit on and come beg like a dog so I can walk you outside,” I said. “You have three hours before bedtime. You can watch TV, you can get on the computer, use your phone, sit on the furniture, talk freely and joke and I’ll let you make popcorn and have one Pepsi.

She thanked me and remained naked. She went into the living room and watched some television.

I went to the computer and uploaded more videos. There was more discussion about “TT” and theorizing that about my mom and her making out. I considered cutting the video of my mother’s interrogation when I kissed her. Watching it back was embarrassing. I looked frightened, and I seemed to be assaulting my mother’s mouth like I was trying to stick my tongue down her throat. It wasn’t a good look.

Ultimately, I posted it anyway.

I also started adding up all of the money we had earned. I had kept records with only the first names of the clients and what they were interested in, and how much money they ‘donated’. Mom made it clear that no one paid for sex in the house. Sex was free – the ‘donation’ came with a complementary contraceptive.

Prostitution was technically illegal in South Dakota, although from what I gathered there were more than few women in the area that did what my mother did. I did a few google searches and the lowest price I saw was $150 an hour, but the posts were old and possibly fake. The women did look much younger.

I still felt like $80 was a bargain, and $40 was a joke. 40 dollars to cum inside of a woman’s hole? Get sweaty with her? She has to take a shower after you get her all messy. It seemed like more than just a bargain. Mom seemed to think that was more than fair and she left it to me to set the prices.