Chapter 1

“Let us in; I am not kidding!!” my Mom demanded from outside of the house as she pounded angrily on the door. It was pretty funny to listen to our mom demand entry into her own house. My brothers and I were just playing a joke on her and my sister Hope.

It was a hot, muggy Saturday. My brothers and I had deadbolted the front and back doors as a prank. We did things like this all the time to my Mom and sister. They pranked us back, too. They knew we weren’t being serious.

“I’ve got to pee!” my Mom was so frustrated with us she almost laughed. My brothers James and Trent were giggling and looking at me to see if we should let them in. I am the oldest of my siblings, but I do not claim to be the leader.

My brothers and I are technically half-brothers. We have different dads, but all of us share the same mother. I’ve grown up with James and Trent all of my life, though, and we consider ourselves full brothers. All of us have little or nothing to do with our biological fathers. It’s the same way with our sister, Hope. My sister and I share the same deadbeat Dad. Robert is one of the few things that we have in common.

Hope used to wait for him and give him the benefit of the doubt. I sometimes wondered if the reason she became such an angry goth girl was that my dad was never around.

I just wanted to get that out of the way. We aren’t the Brady Bunch simply because we have different dads. We are a close family – but nothing really unusual happened until that afternoon when everything started to change.

My Mom’s name is Misty. She doesn’t go by Ms. Hunter. She goes by Misty, and she is the type of person that would even let her own kids call her Misty. We didn’t, but she was the type to have let us do it if we wanted. She’s been a single mom for most of my life. She has dated (mostly losers), including James and Trent’s fathers. I’d say she’s done a pretty decent job of raising us, keeping a roof over our heads, but she was never strict.

Misty has tattoos; she’s loud and gregarious. She’s always “on,” if you know what I mean. She has a lot of energy, and she is quick to anger but quick to laugh and just as quick to forgive. Misty laughs the hardest when she is laughing at herself. Right now, she and my sister Hope were not laughing.

My sister Hope is blonde, but she dresses in all purple and black. I suppose you could call her a “Goth/Emo” girl. You know the type that likes to wear dog collars, Doc Martens, and velvet dresses while listening to angry Indy rock. She’s always got something snarky to say about everything and anything.

Hope is nine months younger than me, but some people think she and my mother are sisters. That’s partly because Hope acts mature (sarcastic) and developed early, and she’s got pumpkin-sized tits and a big butt. Pumpkin may be a bit of exaggeration, but my sister knows how to make them look that way visually and expose a lot of cleavage. The funny thing is, she also HATES it when guys stare.

In many ways, My mother and sister are QUITE similar, but in others, Hope and Misty are polar opposites. Hope was seething on the other side of the door. She didn’t bother to yell at us because she knew we wanted to hear her plead and beg.

“Just break a fucking window,” Hope suggested to my Mom. I knew my sister wasn’t seriously going to do that.

“Yeah, are you going to pay for it?” she put on a nix on that idea. “Guys, it’s not funny! We are about to pee ourselves!!” she pleaded.

“That would be funny,” James laughed.

“It will be funny when I squeeze the piss from my jeans into a glass and force you to choke on my piss, James!” Hope threatened. She wouldn’t actually do that, but I knew we’d probably face some repercussions.

My Mom wasn’t the type to ground us or do traditional parenting and discipline. She’d find a way to get even later. It was fun, and we expected it.

We finally let them in, and I ran off to my room to let things cool down while Mom and Hope dashed to the bathroom. I knew they’d be angry later. We hadn’t intended to make them piss their pants.

I disappeared and tried to distance myself from our practical joke. I was certain I’d hear about it from my Mother and Sister when they cleaned up. I decided I’d take the time to rub one out before the complaining started.

I am a Junior in high school, and like most boys my age, I have an extensive (four gigabytes) collection of porn saved on my laptop. I have videos, stories, pictures – you name it. I like all kinds of stuff, but lately, I have been really into bondage and specifically Shibari rope bondage.

I was whacking it to some videos of Japanese women being tied up, suspended, and delightfully tortured and humiliated by their Japanese masters. I had my pants down around my ankles, and I was super close to finishing myself off as I pounded my cock.

“MIKE! MIKE HUNT?”

Oh, I forgot to mention. I have the unenviable name of Michael Hunt, AKA Mike Hunt. My Dad was the joker who insisted on that being on my birth certificate. My Mom’s last name is Misty Hunt, and my Dad wasn’t married to her when I was born. He thought it would be absolutely hilarious if I grew up to be called Mike Hunt. Dad promptly left my Mom 3 months after I was born and then skipped out on child support and visitation for most of my life.

She usually calls me Michael, just like everyone else. However, when she is pissed off – she calls me Mike. She was shocked at first and horrified, but that soon turned to uncontrollable laughter (at my expense).

I was reaching for my pants when she barged into my room. I had one hand still on my cock because I was seconds away from blowing my load. I was red-faced and in a state of panic.

“Hah-hah-hah, are you beating your meat? Oh fuck, this is hilarious,” My Mom nearly doubled over in laughter. She was about to rip me a new one, but when she found me in the middle of pounding my pud, she couldn’t stop laughing. Getting caught may have saved me from my Mom’s wrath, but not her ridicule.

She’s nearly caught me before, but this was the first time she found me “red-handed.”

My Mom is hot – I mean, she’s very attractive. She looks about 29 years old if you ask me. She has a great, outgoing personality. However, she has the WORST taste in men. She loves guys who are 6’5”, just out of prison, has a long collection of DUIs – that sort of thing. She’s tried to date ‘nice guys,’ but I think they bore her to tears, and they just don’t fit her personality.

My mother hasn’t dated anyone seriously in over a year and a half. She doesn’t think much of clothes around the house. She didn’t walk around butt naked, but she wouldn’t think twice about wearing just a long t-shirt or a pair of panties and a bra.

“What do you want?” I said as I reached for my blue jeans in frustration.

“Oh, you can keep going. I think you were almost finished,” she laughed. I knew she was kidding. This was rich to her, and she probably thought humiliating me was an appropriate revenge for being locked out.

My brothers and I share a room, and we often go around shirtless or in just underwear in our room. We sometimes walk around that way around my sister and Mom. It’s never been a huge deal. I was mortified now, and there was no way I was going to crank my nuts in front of my mother.

“Can you get out, please?” I begged.

“Oh, you wanted to hear me beg earlier. I think you can do better than that,” Mom laughed as she came over and examined my computer screen. There was no point in trying to close my browser tabs. I had 18 other tabs opened to porn.

“Bondage? Your Dad was into this stuff,” she said as she examined the screen with interest. “I never really understood the appeal. You are a lot like him, you know?”

I didn’t want to have this talk right now, and I didn’t appreciate being compared to a deadbeat asshole.

“He also had to open a bunch of browser tabs until he found the perfect image or video to jerk off to,” she doubled over in laughter when she realized that I shared the same technique with my father. Mom put her hand on my shoulder. I flinched, and my cock spasmed. I was covering it with my hand. I was still relatively hard.

“Oh gosh, it’s perfectly natural, Michael. I am just jerking your chain. Everybody plays with themselves,” Mom assured me that she was just teasing playfully. She still found my predicament amusing. “Why didn’t you lock the door?”

“Why didn’t you KNOCK?”

“You know I never knock, and besides, I was angry with you,” Mom’s anger had turned into gentle amusement.

“How would you like it if I walked in on you while you were trying to get busy?” I asked defensively.

“Get busy? Who says that? Who are you? Arsenio Hall?” Mom chuckled.

“Who is Arsenio Hall?” I said as I shifted in my seat uncomfortably. My bare ass was sticking to the chair.

“It’s just some guy from before you were born who used to be on television,” My Mom explained dismissively. “I wouldn’t care if you walked in on me. Your punishment would be you’d have to see me all splayed out, squirting and queefing.”

My mother has that kind of raunchy sense of humor. I wasn’t shocked she painted a colorful word picture like that but suffice it to say that I had no interest or intent on watching my Mom play with herself.

My Mom imitated someone who was spasming and made puppy-burpy noises while pretending to spasm and roll her eyes as she stood next to me. I assumed that was how she masturbated, and making me visualize it felt like further humiliation.

“You are a very quiet masturbator. You were really concentrating when I walked in. Let me see what got you so hot and bothered,” she teased playfully. I knew that my Mom was playing it kind of loosey-goosey to avoid the awkwardness of the situation, but I was still mortified. I had been caught red-handed, and now she was looking at what I was beating off too.

I asked her not to look at my computer, but obviously, if you know my Mom, you know she is going to look at it anyway (especially if you just warned her NOT to do it). I was utterly humiliated now. She’d probably think I was king of the deviants when she saw it, but it was too late to close out all of the tabs that I had open.

“MILF porn? I’ve never understood MILF porn. Why look at a woman my age when there are young hot girls with perfect bodies,” Mom said dismissively. “Oh wow, look at this. These elaborate knots and ropes. Now, this is almost art...”

My Mom admired the images on another open tab that I was jerking off to. I don’t subscribe to that website, but I use the free clips to inspire me to whack off.

Misty admired the intricate rope bondage of two women. They were suspended by ropes overhead and standing on chairs with their legs spread wide. Their tits were bound tightly, and that forced them to get engorged. “Are they sisters?”

“No, they are just Asian women. They look alike,” I said. The two oriental women had light brown skin, rounded faces, and jet-black hair cut the same way. “They could be sisters. I don’t know.”

“Do you think they get paid for something like this? Or do you think they do it for the excitement?”

I had never thought about the motivations of the women in the videos that I got off on before. My mom’s tone suggested that maybe they did it for fun. There were some corny videos with obviously bad plots, but others were amateur porn that looked like it was made in somebody’s home. I assumed the only way you could get a woman to participate in this kind of activity was to pay her.

“One of them is probably married to the guy who filmed this. I’ve seen her in all of his videos.”

“Oh wow, so you are sort of an aficionado on this sort of stuff?” Mom was half-joking. I considered myself a Fetish connoisseur but no expert. “How many videos does this guy have?” Mom scanned through the site.

“I’ve seen about sixteen of his videos. He usually ties her up and then tortures her for a few hours. You can watch most of it for free on different porn sites.”

“Then they do not do it for the money. I guess if she ever gets kidnapped, she’d probably give the kidnapper some notes,” My Mom laughed. She was about to go to another tab called “EverythingButts.com,” and I stopped her.

“Mom? Can we have this conversation later, PUH-LEEZE? I’ll give you some of the URLS if you really want to check these out.”

“Oh right,” my Mom looked down at my hand. My cock was still fully hard, and I had pre-cum on my fingers. “Do you know how to tie women up like this?”

I had never tied up anyone. I had dated a few girls, but I was by no means a Billy-bad ass when it came to women in real life. What was I going to say? I lied and said that I knew about it. I didn’t think that my Mom would ask me to prove it.

“Would you be willing to tie me up, so I could try it? We’ll call it even? I saw you. You saw me. Fair is fair – and I am curious what anyone gets out of this.”

I was floored. I couldn’t believe my Mom was asking me this question. I also couldn’t believe she was asking while I had my cock in my hand and my pants around my ankles.

I asked her why me.

“I am just asking. I’d trust you to do it safely and not leave me hanging,” she chuckled over the double entendre. “Look, It’s really not that big of a deal, Michael. I walked in you, stroking it. I am not going to do that in front of you, but I’ll let you tie me up if you want to show me how this is done. I’ve always said I’ll try anything once – well, I haven’t tried this.”

“Why not get some dude to do it?” I suggested she find a guy her own age.

“I do not mean to put you in an awkward situation,” Mom replied apologetically. Then she realized just how awkward things were when she looked down at my hard dick. I was hiding the tip of my cock from her. “I mean, you are already in an awkward situation, obviously. Look, forget it. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, I’m already humiliated. I am just curious why would you ask me when you could get any guy to tie you up?”

“You know the kinds of douchebags that I date. The last guy tried to fuck Hope behind my back,” Mom admitted. I did not know that, but that tracked with what I knew about him. “I can’t trust them as far as I can throw them. I’ve had guys talk about tying me up in bed. Then when it comes time to roleplay or whatever, they just want to get their cocks sucked and leave.”

“Not snuggle?”

“Snuggle? I don’t want to snuggle, either” my Mom laughed at the outrageousness of the suggestion.

“Aftercare,” I explained. I had read that was the time when, after a very intense, erotic session that the dominant gave affection to the submissive so that she didn’t experience sub-drop. I did not explain that to my Mom. It would have been really awkward “snuggling” with her after I tied her up. I was already shocked that she was willing to go this far to try something out – and do it in front of me.

“Never mind, I do not know what I was thinking. I am probably just a little horny and a little lonely, and these pictures are really kind of hot. I am sorry for asking,” Mom was genuinely apologetic.

I felt like the book was about to close on this story before it began. I quickly pulled my jeans up. “I’d love to tie you up,” I said boldly.

“Where?” she asked.

“Around your boobs and stuff,” I answered.

She laughed and clarified that she was asking about where we could do this. I hadn’t thought it out, but I planned to tie my mother up in the room.

“We could do it in the Batcave,” my Mom suggested. That was her name for our garage. She had a folding card table with six chairs that dominated the center of the garage. There was even a couch in there. She parked outside in the driveway, so there was plenty of space. Mom also had a mini-fridge out there. She often sat and smoked with the garage door open. “It’s kind of like those videos in there, like a dungeon.”

There wasn’t a lot of ventilation, which is why the garage door usually remained open. I assumed she wouldn’t let me open the garage door.

I quickly ascertained that my mother wanted to recreate the scene from the video that I was watching as closely as possible. She wanted a dungeon setting, and the garage was perfect.

“We’re not going to be able to keep this a secret from the others,” I reminded her. I was ecstatic about this opportunity. It was strange and unexpected but exciting as well. I did not want to jinx it.

“I didn’t think we would,” Mom frowned at me like that would be obvious. “I don’t care if they see. I am sure your brothers jerk it to porn too. I am sure they will want to come in when you’ve got me hanging up there.”

I did not discuss my porn interests with my brothers, but my Mom was probably correct. Mom explained there was no use in trying to keep it a secret. They’d find out one way or the other.

Misty acted nonchalantly as we left my room. I tried to contain my enthusiasm, so Mom didn’t freak out.

“How long can we do this for?” she asked as we walked through the living room.

“The sessions usually last 45 minutes to an hour,” I said.

“Guys don’t get bored watching the same scene that long?”

I did not want to admit that I usually fast-forwarded to the good parts or left it playing in the background while I pounded one out.

“Hey guys, I am going to be a little tied up in the garage. There is lunch meat in the fridge if you want a sandwich,” my Mom half-joked with my brothers and sister when she entered the living room. My brothers had no idea our Mom meant literally tied up.

Hope was livid. She had her hand planted on her chin and was giving our brothers the cold shoulder.

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes when we walked past the others to the garage.

We walked into the garage, and I shut the door. I warned my Mom that I did not have any bondage tools.

“There are all kinds of household items that I am sure will work,” Mom said as she started digging through the stacked boxes in the garages. It was kind of a disorganized mess. We’ve lived in the same house for years, but Mom never really unpacked from the last place we lived. She pulled out some rope from a box and suggested that I use that on her. I was taken aback by how casual she was about getting tied up. It seemed to me that my mom saw her request as not sexual at all. The rope was stiff and coated in silicon, like the kind you use to tie up boats to the dock. She handed me some duct tape and said that it had a million uses.

There was also some white coarse rope and even a red rubber ball that would make a perfect gag. I decided that coarse rope may not be ideal because it might scratch my mother’s skin.

“It didn’t look like that guy had a bunch of dildos and expensive sex toys in the clips you were watching, Michael. It was just an empty room with ropes hanging from the ceiling and four chairs. It was kind of terrifying, like something out of the movie Saw.”

“Garage door open or closed?” I asked as I scanned the garage for things that I might be able to use. I still wasn’t sure how far my Mom was willing to take this demonstration. She had all of her clothes on, and I presumed she’d remain that way while I tied her up.

“I’ll warn you right now,” Mom explained. “I am the kind of female that sweats, gets a little sloppy wet, and squirty. I can’t do this clothed. Is that okay?” she asked as she started to remove her shirt.

“Obviously, garage door closed then,” I replied nervously. My Mom seemed perfectly calm and stoic about what was about to go down.

“Yeah, I don’t think the neighbors want to see this,” she chuckled when she realized I had asked seriously if the garage door should be open. My mom regarded me like I was a dumbass, but shrugged it off. “It’s going to get hot in here. How do you want me?”

My Mom stood flat-footed in the clothes that she had just changed into after she pissed herself outside. She seemed to be asking me to position her.

“I guess just sit here,” I said. I chose a chair in the garage. I didn’t want her to have to sit on the floor. It was dusty, and the cement was rough.