Chapter 2

I cupped my hand and smacked my mother’s ass. My brothers let out sighs of shock over my audacity. Then I rubbed my mother’s butt cheek. I felt like I needed to warm her ass up first before I went off on her.

“Why do guys do that? Does that do something for you?” she asked.

I had no idea what my mother was asking me. I had never spanked a woman’s ass before. It just felt natural to rub her bottom. She said most men do that. “Go ahead and give me some smacks. I can’t fight back, and I won’t break.”

I cupped my hand and smacked her meaty ass cheeks hard (As hard as I felt I could without hurting her). I twisted my wrist as It came down and brought it down on my mother’s butt cheeks.

“I am not made of porcelain,” she suggested that I had not hit her hard enough. I felt like my mom was goading me or perhaps being critical. In retrospect, she was just as confused as I was, and I was clearly not spanking her ass correctly.

I spanked her three or four more times in the same spot. I was trying not to hit my mother’s butt crack and focus strictly on the meaty-part of her right butt cheek.

“You don’t have to just do that one spot, Michael,” Mom suggested when I finished spanking her. She didn’t seem to mind, and certainly didn’t seem the least bit inconvenienced by the swats I gave her.

I alternated and spanked my mom rapidly four more times on the other butt cheek to apply even wear to her body.

“Spank her on the butthole,” James suggested from the table with a laugh. Trent giggled as well. My mom didn’t beg and plead for me not to do it. She didn’t say anything – as if she hadn’t heard it. She continued to quietly hang from the rope and struggle a little. Gravity was torturing her by pulling her body down and making her spin slightly.

I waited and paused while the silence washed over me. I felt guilty and like I was at a crossroads of going too far. I assumed rightly or wrongly that my mother’s lack of a response was tacit permission.

I aimed under her legs and smacked right in the middle of my mother’s crack, just under her pussy. I drew my back as she yelped. I felt wetness on my fingers and assumed that was butt-sweat. Misty was coated in a sticky-sweet sweat.

“That’s not my butthole,” my mom snickered knowingly because I clipped her pussy. She didn’t explicitly tell me not to hit her there again. I had obviously spanked her pussy when my hand wrapped under her legs. My fingers were sticky – I tried not to process that was a sign of my mother’s arousal.

The others were shocked, and even though they didn’t laugh, I felt they were ridiculing me. My brothers had been the ones to goad me into doing that in the first place.

“Sorry,” I apologized.

“It’s okay, Michael. It’s just, is this doing anything for you? I feel like you are hurting your hand, and it’s obviously weirding you out.”

Doing anything for me? Well, making me pop a boner and think thoughts about my own mother that I had never had before? I couldn’t tell her that. “is it doing anything for you?” I asked.

“I am not getting off if that’s what you are asking,” my mom admitted in a clinical manner. Her tone alone suggested that she was frustrated. “You are very quiet, and there is no rhythm to your strokes. You are just hitting me, and it’s making me sway and feel a little nauseous. My tits hurt and feel like they are going to pop off, and I constantly feel like I am about to fall.”

“Should I untie you?”

“It’s probably taken 45 minutes to get up here for just five minutes of swinging. If you are getting weirded out, you guys can go. Just like come back and check on me every 15 minutes or something?”

“You want to stay like this?”

“Not all day, but I’ve come this far. I feel like there must be something to this if women do it so regularly on videos. It feels scary and uncomfortable but safe and serene at the same time. I can’t really explain it,” my mom said. “I just don’t want things to get weird between us after this is over. Okay?”

That was really nice of my mom. “I’d like to continue. I just don’t want to hurt you,” I said.

“I do!!” James laughed and volunteered.

“Is that okay, Michael? Are you done?”

“No, let me try a little more,” I sounded meek and unsure of myself. I didn’t want to sound that way. I was just not very confident that I had any clue or right to be doing anything of this with my mom. What I did know was that I didn’t want to stop either.

In retrospect, I should have said, “I know it makes you feel things you have never felt before to be tied up. It makes me feel things I have never felt before as well. I’d like to explore those feelings with you.”

That would have been super cool and probably weird at the same time. I would have sounded erudite and understanding at the same time. I remained quiet and that made it even more awkward. I smacked my mother on the pussy as I had before. A part of my fingers touched her pussy lips, while the bottom half wrapped around the curve of her bottom. She was wet – so she was feeling SOMETHING from this.

“I am not going to be mad if you hit harder,” she assured me. “You are also very quiet. You can say stuff so that it doesn’t feel so awkward,” Mom encouraged me to get into the spirit of this a little more and stop being so careful.

“Count for me,” I demanded as I hit her again.

“Ugh, not like corny stuff,” Mom instantly complained. I felt like she was in control, and I was the one simply doing what she wanted me to do. It was a mixed message. My mom wanted me to talk, but not ask her to count. I expressed some consternation and sighed. Misty suggested that we turn on the radio.

My mom had a small portable radio to listen to when her friends Jenny and Carolyn came over and hung out in the garage. They’d listen to old 90’s rock, drink wine and smoke out here.

Hope walked in to check in on us, just as I was tweaking the radio station. I felt like I had been “busted” doing something wrong. I expected that my sister was going to freak out and find what we were doing disgusting or perverted. She’s a Goth girl and not a prude – but admittedly, this was not normal behavior for any family.

“Oh god, are you spanking Mom?” she laughed at me like I was a silly child, and we were being ridiculous. That was a better reaction than yelling at us and calling us perverted weirdos.

“They are trying to, but we are just learning,” my mom defended me. It was a little passive aggressive because I HAD been spanking her butt.

“I can go get a baseball bat, and we can beat you like a Piñata,” Hope suggested darkly. She clearly thought the entire scene was beyond over the top and was planning to ridicule us mercilessly.

“Hardee, Hardee, Harr-Harr,” my mom retorted. Then Misty became uncharacteristically reserved and introspective. “Are you going to watch, Hope? I asked Michael to tie me up just to see what it felt like. There is no hanky panky going, and the boys came in. You are welcome to hang out, I am not sure how much longer we will do this for.”

It didn’t sound like my mom planned to do this much longer and I wanted to make the most of the experience.

“Oh, you are going to HANG AROUND a long time,” I plucked the ropes above her wrist like a harp string and it made my mom swing wildly. She giggled effervescently like it was fun to her.

“Sure, this should be good. You could be making us lunch like a normal mom, but you are in here getting your butt spanked by your son,” Hope teased my mom. My sister came across as judgmental and overly critical when she said that.

“Keep going,” she whispered to me. She seemed like she was mesmerized and enjoying this. I brought my hand up between her legs and tried to smack the crack of her pussy lips like I smacked the crack of my mother’s ass. I had gotten far bolder about touching her pussy.

I hurt my hand slapping her pussy. I drew away wet fingers and my mom looked at me as if I had just gone too far.

“It’s fine, It’s not like I can hit back. Give me the authentic experience, just don’t make it weird,” she asked. How could this NOT be weird?

My mom has never been shy about her body. It shouldn’t have been entirely shocking to us that she was willing to try something like bondage. I was shocked because I had just slapped her clit and gotten away with it. I can’t describe the feeling because it wasn’t sexual, but it WAS sexual in its own way.

My brain activity was heightened – I felt something akin to power and control, but not arousal. I felt like I should NOT be doing this with my mother in front of my siblings and yet I did it anyway. Words can’t truly express the complexity of emotions I was feeling.

Locking my mom out of the house for a few minutes as a joke paled in comparison to what I had just done. I was still processing my actions. Yet, my mother seemed to act like this was all just an experiment and she was mildly amused by it.

I didn’t see signs of complex thoughts or reluctance on her face. She was quite simply in the moment and Misty giggled about the slaps much more than she groaned.

I rotated my mother like a piece of meat hanging from a rack. Her pussy was red and sore. She was dripping wet. The others noticed and laughed – especially Hope.

“Are you guys laughing that I can’t take it? It’s actually kind of fun,” she admitted.

“They are not laughing about that. Are you wet, Mom?” Hope sneered.

I felt like this was beyond taboo. It was obvious my mother was wet because her pussy was dripping fluids, and my hand was coated in slimy pussy juice. However, she had not ACKNOWLEDGED her arousal until that moment. I felt like as long as we didn’t talk about it – it was not really happening.

“Yes, if somebody spanks your pussy, you’d be wet too; there is nothing I can do about it.”

“Have you been spanking mom’s pussy?” Hope looked at me like I was the most disgusting pervert on the planet.

“It’s bondage, Hope. No holds are barred,” my mom defended my actions. I still felt guilty, as my brothers looked at me like I was a total pervert as well. I could feel their disapproval.

“Holds or holes?” Hope grinned wickedly over the double entendre.

“Both, I guess. I am tied up, and I literally can’t do anything to stop anyone from doing anything to me. That’s the experience. Right? Vulnerability? Danger? It’s supposed to sting, and bruises heal. Have at it. I’ve always wanted to try this – so, we are here now. I still don’t fully see the appeal but it’s kind of fun.”

My mom seemed to be coming out of her orgasmic stupor.

“So, you want the guys to do any perverted things they want to you?”

My mom paused as if thinking about her response carefully. I once again assumed that silence meant that she did want that. However, when she spoke, I could tell my mom was being thoughtful. “I just asked to try being tied up so that I could understand the appeal of whips and chains. It’s supposed to make me feel like ANYONE could do anything they wanted to me. It doesn’t mean they will. It’s like riding a scary ride. You know it’s not real, but you want to sort of get a scare. I trust Michael a LOT more than I trust the men I normally date.”

“Yeah, I remember Randy,” Hope mentioned the name of my mom’s last boyfriend. She sounded disdainful and somber. I had almost forgotten his name. It had been more than a year ago. Now that I knew Randy had been interested in my sister, I had a new context. “Well, spank mom’s tits then,” Hope was half joking as she changed the subject.

“Hey, whose side are you on?” my mom joked and admitted her nipples were hypersensitive. We had been reluctant to do more than cup our hands and smack her bottom or legs as she swung helplessly on the metal frame. She was nude, but she was also our mom. I don’t think any of us knew what we were doing either.

Once my mom made that joke, it sort of gave us permission to open the floodgates and start pawing at her and mashing her engorged tits. The rope had forced blood into them and made them feel like sacks full of milk. We didn’t pinch or do anything erotic to her tits. Instead, the three of us mashed, poked, and jiggled her tits while we laughed and joked.

I had secured my mom with rope, but she could jerk her body around, and it seemed like she was sliding out of the bindings. I had failed to tie her legs to anything so she could kick her feet and flail around. We alternated between playing with her tits, poking her ribs, smacking her butt cheeks, or just fighting off her kicking legs.

At one point, Trent had one of her legs, and I had the other, and we were pulling them wide apart like a wishbone. My mom wailed, gnashed, threatened, and laughed. Misty’s laugh while she was bound wasn’t like her natural chuckle when she saw something funny. I would describe it as a machine gun of intense chittering. “Hi-hi-hi-hi-hi,” she giggled intensely as she stared at us. Her hands were tightly bound to her body, and she could only endure our constant touching.

There was nothing sexual about it. It felt more like a doctor’s visit in a clinic. I know that sounds strange because she was naked, and we were touching her tits and butt. I would say it was certainly naughty and perverted but in a fun way – if that makes any sense. It wasn’t like a porno. It was more like a game. I was turned on and had an erection, but it wasn’t the focus of what we were doing. It wasn’t for her pleasure or ours. It was just this wild fun.

Hope watched it unfold with a sort of detached sarcasm. My sister directed us to do things like grab her feet and tickle them or pull on her toes, scratch behind her knees, and generally annoy my mother. Misty protested, “No, No, No,” but she was laughing hysterically as we overwhelmed her and didn’t relent.

I never touched my mom’s pussy after those initial spankings I gave her. Once my brothers and I joined forces to chaotically touch her all over, things took on a more frenetic pace. My mom’s body twitched as she swung. She had no way to hide her pussy or asshole while she swung there. We had a complete eyeful of her most intimate parts.

My mother’s pussy was wet, and her inner thighs were coated with a viscous white fluid from her arousal. None of us said anything about it, but we all knew it was sort of like pre-cum from a dick. I didn’t process that our actions were making my mom aroused. I just felt like it was something she couldn’t help because of the bindings.

The difference is I may drip a little, and this was a LOT.

None of us put our fingers INSIDE my mother, even though when she flailed her legs, she often presented her entire spread pussy to us. James grabbed at my mother’s tongue a few times and tried to catch it when she screamed or giggled.

Trent and James also touched her clit and tickled it a little, but my mom kicked them with her flailing legs, and she pleaded, “no, no, no, don’t go there! No!”

She had told us we COULD do anything to her, but she was struggling and begging us not to. It was hard to tell just how serious she was, because half the time she was giggling while she struggled. She seemed more serious this time.

She kicked me with her legs as she struggled. There were several times that I smacked her simply because she planted a foot in my solar plexus. She wasn’t angry or violent. She was mostly just wildly reacting to our touches, pokes, and smacks.

My mom’s laughs were infectious. I think if she wasn’t constantly babbling and laughing, it might have felt incredibly wrong to do this to our own mother. The fact that she seemed to be delighted but in a crazy panic added a level of excitement to it all that only encouraged us to tease her body even more.

I was kneading her breasts like two balls of pizza dough. She managed to get her legs over my shoulders so that her pussy was right in front of my face. If I had pushed my head further, I could have put my tongue in my mother’s pussy. “Hah-hah!! Who has who now,” she managed to say. She rarely spoke. Instead, she alternated between giggles, screams, and groans.

I jabbed my fingers into her butt cheeks and pinched her. “Ow!! DAMMIT!” she laughed. Trent grabbed one leg and pulled her off of me. James grabbed the other and twisted. My brothers pulled our mom’s toes up at my sister’s direction and began to tickle the bottom of her feet. My mom’s terrified giggles and hysterical demands that they stop, only encouraged us to tease her more.

I moved behind my mother while she bucked her hips wildly. Her butt cheeks were flapping open and closed as she reacted to the tickling. It’s hard to describe my mother’s asshole. It wasn’t gaping open, but it was larger than I expected it to be. It was very inviting. I didn’t think about it. I was reacting in the moment as I stood behind her. I poked my index finger into her asshole, and it slid right in without any give.

I didn’t push it in deep, but I felt like I had gone “too far.” There was an unspoken, invisible grey line that I knew must exist. We all played with my mom’s butt. None of us had dared to stick our fingers in her butthole, though – until I did. I blushed and felt guilty. I withdrew my finger as soon as I noticed Hope glaring at me with disappointment.

My mom should have been humiliated, but if she noticed, she didn’t let on at all. She was busy fighting off my brothers as they tried to control her thighs and hips with their hands. “Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,” My mom’s startled cry shocked me. I thought she was sliding out of the ropes. She had managed to loosen them with her body sweat and struggles.

“Emergency potty break, let me down, let me down, let me down,” Mom warned like a Klaxon siren. The others backed away from her front. I stood back in case she was going to poop on me. “No, no, no, no...” my mom begged her own body to stop what it was doing. She kicked her legs a little, and then a single squirt of what I assumed was a combination of pre-cum and piss shot out of her pussy flaps and splashed onto her thighs and the floor below her. “Sorry, sorry, sorry!” Mom apologized.

Misty obviously embarrassed and disappointed with herself for pissing uncontrollably after she had a spasmodic orgasm. She had gone from excited meat puppet on a string jerking and wriggling with big smiles to hanging wet and defeated from the metal pole.

“Get her down, so she can clean up,” Hope instructed.

“Sorry guys, I’ll clean the floor!” my mom apologized several times. I was the only one who knew how the ropes were supposed to be tied. I ended up having to cut a few of them with some hedge clippers because the knots were not easy to undo.

The others lost interest and left once the spectacle was over. The smell of my mother’s wet pussy permeated the garage. My mom said nothing. She waited patiently for me to let her down. I felt she was having some misgivings and doubts about what had just happened. I did not want to say anything to her and compound the awkwardness.

Misty thanked me when I fully freed her. “I always wanted to see what the fuss was about. There are millions of pictures of bondage online. I assumed there was some reason people into it,” she said without further comment on whether she enjoyed it or not.

Misty rubbed her wrists where the rope had bitten into her skin and grabbed her clothes. My mom thought nothing of bending over at the waist. I saw her big asshole for what I assumed would be the last time as she bent over. She stood up and looked over her shoulder at me with surprise when she caught me looking at her butt. “I guess we are even for me barging in on you while you rubbed one out, huh?” she asked rhetorically before stalking through the house to clean herself up.

I took a mop and cleaned up the little bit of pissy mess she left behind. It wasn’t that big of a deal. My mom took her time in the bathroom, showered, and came out looking refreshed. I was already back in the kitchen by the time she returned.

“You didn’t have to clean up. I would have done that,” Mom observed after she returned to the garage. She seemed detached, perhaps a little mortified about what had just happened. She also didn’t seem inclined to debrief on what we had just done either.

I think my brothers and I were ashamed of how far we had gone with her. In particular, I had washed my hands thoroughly and felt deeply ashamed of my behavior – especially at the very end. I wanted to apologize to her, but I felt like it was best not to say anything at all.