Chapter 3

Hope seemed to have a change of heart. I was glad because I did not want to scare my mom away from trying this again. I felt like if Hope started throwing things at her, my mom would insist on being untied and stopping.

Misty had clearly said this would be her last time, and I have to admit – I was hoping we could make the second try last a lot longer than the first.

My sister watched as I finished securing my mom to the metal rungs over her head on the cherry picker. I raised her up using the rope like a pully until her pussy and asshole were about eye level. She could close her legs but there was little left to the imagination. I could fully see her slit, the small landing strip of pubic hair did nothing to cover her pussy. Misty swung in a small semi-circular pattern and calmly waited for us to begin.

My mom looked a little intimidated, almost as if she were starting to get reluctant but not enough to ask to be taken down.

“Can we start?” my brothers were eager to begin round two. I was unsure if they could wail on her before she fell down. I told them to hold on while I double checked my knots and tugged on my mother’s body.

Mom grew increasingly confident and even assured me that she was ready. I felt like maybe I was subconsciously stalling because I was unsure if we really should be doing this to our mother.

She dared us to hit her with their best shot. “Don’t leave me hanging”, she joked. I loved how confident she was. Misty was impatient for us to rough her up a little, and her pussy was dripping.

It took us a few minutes to get started slapping her with our hands. At first, I began patting her ass lightly. When she laughed, I started smacking harder. “Let me know when you start,” she teased playfully and pretended to snore.

I jabbed my thumb into my mother’s asshole in frustration. She perked right up and shouted, “Hey!!”

My brothers began laughing and joined me, slapping her ass and poking her butthole. Misty jerked and began to protest, but not in a way that would have been taken seriously. She was half-laughing and shouting for us to stop.

She began by goading us and teasing us about how lightly we slapped her last time. Now, she was wiggling helplessly and yelling. My mom’s tits jiggled like two mounds of Jell-o as her body quivered and spasmed.

I pinched her tits and poked her bottom with my fingers.

“Owwie! Damn, that hurts so good! Please do that again, just like that! I don’t know if I can take it, but I want to try.”

“Well, stop wiggling then!” I demanded.

“It’s not like I can help it! It really hurts, but it’s so warm and tingly. I don’t want you to stop, but my ass has to be freaking glowing by now. It certainly feels like it.”

Michael was slapping my mom with one of the dildos from her toy box. He smacked the inside of her thighs and around her pussy. My mom couldn’t’ defend herself. She opened her legs wider and present a bigger target. He didn’t hit her directly on the slit, but now we had a perfect view inside my mother’s vagina.

James focused on teasing and pinching her tits. He found a pair of pliers, and he was harmlessly threatening to use them on her but mostly used his fingers to tweak, poke, tickle, and twist. My mom’s reaction was to giggle most of the time and occasionally smirk. She clearly wasn’t afraid of what he was doing and seemed to enjoy it.

I grabbed an old screwdriver and used the handle to smack her clit, and around her pussy and ass. I didn’t hit her hard. I did smack her consistently though, and my mom giggled as much as she yelped.

“We can do it harder if you think you can take it,” I suggested.

“Just do it then! If you’re asking, you know I’m going to tell you to stop, but what can I do? Just have fun with it.”

I was shocked by my mom’s trust in us. If it had been me, I would have insisted on ground rules and avoid certain parts of the body. My mom trusted us completely not to go too far and I think we restrained ourselves for fear of losing that trust.

She frequently encouraged us to keep at it, even though at times she was laughing hysterically and begging us to stop. I noticed that when you twisted my mother’s nipples a certain way, my mom got particularly excited and also screamed for me to stop. Yet, it was obvious she didn’t really want me to stop.

Hope said she couldn’t stand my mother’s mewling, and she had enough of this spectacle. She left the garage abruptly, but we barely acknowledged her leaving. The three of us were caught up in torturing my mom while she spun.

“I am not going to get to sit on my dildos, am I?” Mom asked rhetorically between tickles and frustrated yelps. She ignored Hope leaving the room and seemed to lose herself in the experience. Our hands were everywhere – all over her body.

Misty’s pussy was dripping, and we could smell her getting turned on, but none of us were prepared to insert the dildos on her.

I only noticed Hope had returned when I smelled fresh, hot, buttered popcorn. “Anyone want Popcorn?” she asked. My mom was hysterical with laughter while James pulled her nipples, and Trent and I worked her thighs and butt with our hands and toys. It seemed hypocritical that Hope announced she was leaving, only to return a few minutes later. I didn’t address it though. I felt like Hope WANTED us to acknowledge it.

None of us wanted to stop to eat popcorn. Hope wasn’t asking us if we wanted to share her popcorn, anyway. She walked over to my mom and began tossing it in my mom’s screaming mouth. “This should shut you up.”

“Harff,” Misty nearly choked on the first piece and spit out onto her chest. She ate the second and third pieces of popcorn that landed in her mouth. She didn’t have much choice. It wasn’t long before my mother’s mouth was full of popcorn. She made distressed sounds and begged Hope to stop.

“I am tired of listening to you beg them to hit you harder,” Hope sighed as she filled our mom’s mouth with popcorn. The butter dripped down Misty’s chin and on her neck. I must admit – the fact that Misty was my mom made it hard (but not impossible) to get turned on. The popcorn butter slowly dripping off of her body was incredibly sexy. “Just knock her block her off, so she’ll shut up and stop asking!”

“Sorry, I’ll try to be quiet,” Misty managed to say as she chewed the popcorn like a garbage disposal working overtime just to clear her mouth before more was tossed in.

It was sort of easy to forget she was my mother while she was writhing and begging us to stop. It was frantic but not the kind that we took very seriously – mostly because my mom was smiling most of the time while she struggled.

My brothers and I continued teasing the rest of my mother’s body as she spasmed and choked on popcorn. James was the first one to grab a handful of popcorn out of Hope’s bowl. He joked about pushing some of the popcorn in my mom’s asshole.

She yelped in a panic when she saw him pretend to actually do it. James stopped just short of pressing it into her asshole. I felt like surely my mom would put a stop to it at that point.

“NO!! Ha-ha, oh my god!” my mom yelped. This time it did sound like she really was protesting. At this point, Trent joined in and actually smushed some popcorn in my mother’s mouth.

Misty chewed – what else could she do? Stuffing her mouth full of popcorn was fun. I joined in, and any time she screamed and opened her mouth wide, one of us would push some popcorn in it.

I was caught up in the hysteria. Her cries had been muffled by the popcorn, which served as a type of gag.

“You fuckers!! Ahhhhh!” my mom screamed at us as if we had frustrated her to the point she suddenly wanted to get down. She could barely move her body as she struggled and swung helplessly from the metal bars over her head. My brothers and I were laughing, pinching, slapping, and poking, and Misty swayed back and forth. However, she only protested the popcorn being thrown at her or stuffed in her mouth. Misty had no choice about any of this, though - she was completely bound and at this stage – we could have done anything to her.

I was pretty sure she was having an orgasm, and at the same time gobbling pop corn like Ms. Pacman on overdrive.

My sister threw the most popcorn at her, and soon the bowl was almost empty.

“Stop, Hope!!” Misty was giggling and laughing while we ganged up on her, but she also furrowed her brows and glared. Hope was flinging the popcorn at her, but it rarely even hit her. If it did, it bounced off my mother’s thigh onto the floor.

“You have such a massive asshole that I thought for sure it would be a big enough target,” Hope observed rather sardonically.

“You little brat, you are getting popcorn everywhere! You are picking it up!” Mom giggled. I was tickling her ribs, and she was convulsing hysterically.

“You are the slave. You can crawl around on your hands and knees and pick up each popcorn kernel with your big fat mouth!” Hope insisted dryly. She bounced a kernel of my mom’s face, which ricocheted to her tits.

Shrieking defiantly, my mother insisted that she was nobody’s slave. We assumed Hope was just teasing her about picking up the popcorn. The idea that my mother could actually be somebody’s slave seemed to deeply insult my mother – or at least concerned her. All I knew was that it pissed it off and she wasn’t joking around about it.

I can assure you that none of us took the suggestion that she be our slave seriously. However, she was emphatic that we shouldn’t ever consider that. “This is just to tie me up, so I can see what it’s like! No 50 shades of gray nonsense!”

We didn’t stop teasing her physically, and soon we forgot all about the suggestion to be our slave.

One of my brothers found a mop and swung it like a lightsaber. He made a “Vrrooom” noise and shook it menacingly.

“Ah, are you going to beat me with that thing? Oh god!!”

I don’t think James intended to hit my mother with the mop when he first picked it up. Hope urged him to take a swing and treat our mother like a pinata. He swung it menacingly around my mother like he was a Sith Warrior practicing but never made contact.

“Hit that donkey-butt so hard that Butterfinger bars come flying out of that disgusting asshole,” Hope painted a picture of a candy-filled donkey. I imagined my mother hanging from a rope in the backyard as the centerpiece of a children’s birthday party as some sort of obscene pinata. The blinded folded kid was joined by all the other people at his party as they swung and laughed at my naked mother. Her belly was swollen from candy that she had swallowed, and they were trying to knock her hard enough that it came flying out. It was an incredibly obscene but brutal fantasy and not one I had ever had before.

“You can doooooo it!!” Trent quoted an Adam Sandler movie in a lusty Mexican accent. I do not think he really wanted my brother to actually do it, though. It was just something Trent and James said to one another as an inside joke.

“Not in the face, not in the face,” my mom pleaded as she swung helplessly before us. I was shocked my mom was willing to let James hit her with the broom at all. I couldn’t believe she was putting conditions on it. James smiled wickedly and barely tapped her with the broom.

“You hit like a girl,” Hope chastised James. I wanted to remind my sister that she just burned herself by suggesting girls can’t hit very hard.

“You hit hard enough; you hit hard enough,” Mom laughed. She was obviously excited by what was happening, and yet she was begging us to stop. I played with her nipples and twisted them. I normally gave them a quick pluck, but this time, I held my fingers in a prolonged pinch.

“More of that, less of the stick, please!”

“This hard?” James hit my mom with the wooden handle of the mop on her ribs. It wasn’t as dense as a baseball bat. The mop probably barely hurt – but it did seem menacing.

“That’s fine,” mom giggled. Hope made a sour face and threw popcorn at my mother’s face. It was obvious Hope didn’t approve of our naughty games, and yet, in a way, she was egging us to continue them.

The popcorn bounced off my mother’s forehead and landed harmlessly in between her tits. Mom surprised us when she opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue in anticipation that one of us was going to feed it to her. She was clearly willing to play along and sort of caught up in it. She was also tied up and there was no way she could use her hands to defend OR feed herself.

Once it was established that my mom would allow us to hit her with the mop handle, we took turns. Trent took it next and began to swing it on her thighs. “I am going to have so many bruises tomorrow!”

We avoided her pubic area, but when it was my turn, I swung on her tits. Misty had relatively firm tits for a woman her age. They weren’t rock hard – but they weren’t saggy either. It was like hitting a water balloon.

“Ha-hah, no, no, no,” Mom’s protests were hardly serious as she laughed like it tickled when I brought the mop down on her boobs. “This is driving me crazy, you guys!!”

“Do you want us to stop?” I asked.

“No, no, no,” she laughed as she had when I was hitting her with the mop. I was going to hit her again. It wasn’t like I was swinging a baseball bat. It was probably more annoying than it was painful. My mother begged much more seriously, “Stop! Please! Oh god! Not on my pussy!”

“You said not the face, only!” I joked. I didn’t intend to hit her pussy. I was content to smack her ribs, arms, and around her thighs.

“Fine, any place but the face! But not much harder than that, please, Michael?”

I smiled wickedly. My mother had just implicitly provided agreed to be “caned” with the mop handle anywhere but the face. Her legs were forcibly spread open by the ropes holding her feet up. There was no way she could close them. I stood in front of her and held the mop like a samurai warrior. She begged me, “no, no, no,” while my brothers watched to see if I’d really do it. I swung between her legs, and there was a very satisfying ‘splosh’ of wetness as the wooden handle made contact with her wet pussy lips.

“Owie! Owie! Oh fuck, oh fuck,” my mom shouted. If she had insisted that I stopped or I thought it was going to do any REAL damage, I would have stopped. I took her mewling and whining to be tacit permission to continue. I did not think she was enjoying it – how could she?

It had to be intensely humiliating to be hung so that her pussy and asshole were visible to us. Add to that, my brothers continued to tickle, pinch, and slap her tits and around her body while she swung helplessly. There was no way getting hit fairly hard directly on the genitals could have felt good to her. Although she did have a half-smirk that seemed to be daring me to go further.

I swung again, and this time, the entire metal rig reverberated. I thought my mom might fall, but the ropes held. Her body swung there like a human Pinata. My brothers laughed, and she yelped again and begged me to stop. I hit her a third time, and she simply called me a “Bastard!”

“Give me a turn,” Trent demanded. Three times at bat became our sort of unspoken rule. You got three swings on my mom, and then someone else took a turn. Trent swung three times and got the same reaction I did.

James took a turn and hit a little harder. “I hate you guys, fuck!!” Mom said as my turn at bat came again. I almost gave her a break, but she said, “You can hit me other places other than my pussy!”

“Yeah, but it’s fun,” I said as I swung hard enough to make my mother flinch and spasm a little. The look on her pretty face was so intoxicating. I would say ‘sexy’ If I am being honest. It was still my mom, but I was separating the woman from the role.

My mom and my sister look a lot alike in the face. The big difference is Hope looks stuck up and prissy, and my mom is more down-to-earth and pragmatic. I still found it hard to believe she’d let us tie her up naked.

I stopped wondering why she agreed to give up her clothes and be tied up like this and just had fun with it. I swung hard again, and this time, I think I hit her clit with the wooden mop. “Oh god!!” she yelled and jerked. She began to struggle. I hit her again another time on the same spot. “This is not fair, guys; I am so close! Let me cum! Fuuuuck!”.

I didn’t have time to process that my mother was begging to be allowed to have an orgasm when I hit her with my third swing and caused her to jerk and spasm violently. Misty yanked her foot so hard that she freed her ankle from the loop strap. Her foot went flying, and she kicked me in the face accidentally.

“Oh, sorry!” she laughed at her mistake. It was obviously not intentional. She joked that was what I got for hitting her right on the “sweet spot” – which, at the time, I was not certain she was referring to her clit.

“Ow,” I held my nose and hit her one more time playfully as she dangled helplessly with one leg free. The weight of her body forced all of the knots to shift, and she was starting to fall. It was obvious that I’d need to untie her. The fun seemed to be coming to an end.

“Get me down from here before I fall on my ass, please,” Mom begged. I was already starting to untie the knots. It wasn’t very easy to undo them because I had double-knotted them and applied the rope redundantly a few times to make sure she couldn’t move. I had to cut some of the knots with scissors.

“Careful, careful, you guys already beat the snot out of me. Don’t cut me open,” she joked nervously as I freed her from the ropes.

My mom didn’t immediately leave like she had earlier when the session was over. She stood there and shook her arms and legs to get the blood flow started again. “Okay, are we done, or can we go again?”

I was pleasantly surprised when my mom asked me if we could keep going. “I didn’t think you’d want to continue?”

“I can go again if you guys are up for it, but it’s not really fair to hang me up like that,” Mom said. “I feel like I am presenting my pussy like an open purse when you had me spread like a bunny. It made me super horny but with no relief. Can you tie me up like earlier today, just over one of my dildos?”

My brothers giggled about my mother’s suggestion because she was implying that she was going to masturbate and getting really horny from all of this. It should have made what we were doing seem more intensely sexual. The casual way that my mom suggested it only enhanced the levity and encouraged us.

“All three of you beat off,” Mom countered when she saw us laughing at her. “I walked in on Michael today pumping his penis. I can’t exactly pretend that didn’t get me wet. If you don’t want to tie me up, I’ll go take care of myself in my room anyway – one way or the other; I really need to get a little satisfaction. If it’s too weird, I totally understand. You are getting me super excited, and it sort of driving me batty not to be able to do anything about it.”

“No, it’s not weird; it’s fucked up,” Hope complained sarcastically from the table like a judgmental prude. The thing is, she had watched the entire spectacle play out and could have left if she didn’t like it. Hope made us all feel guilty, but probably made my mom more inclined to keep doing it anyway just to piss Hope off.

“Don’t knock it until you try it, Hope,” my mom seethed in response. “Look, I am all worked up,” my mother indicated, her nipples were extremely hard. “You guys poked, jabbed, and teased me, but I never quite got over the edge into orgasm land. I am super close to the biggest one of my life. If someone touched you like that, you’d want to get your nut, too, wouldn’t you?”

We silently agreed. I turned my mother to face me as she stood flat-footed under the cherry picker frame. She raised her arms voluntarily so that I could begin tying the ropes to her wrists. However, I took my time and began by tying it around her midsection.

“Why are you even watching then if you don’t like it?” Mom asked her.

“I am just shocked that you’d let my brothers beat the snot out of you,” Hope admitted. I would have agreed with her. I was shocked she’d let us do that before.

“They didn’t beat the snot out of me,” Misty dismissed her daughter’s concerns as absurd exaggerations. “It’s part of the experience of being tied up, getting spanked or whatever. It added to the excitement. I am shocked you are such a fuddy-duddy about it,’ my mom seemed disappointed that Hope looked down her nose at us.

I made my mom stand on a folding chair while I stood on another one and secured her so that she could really swing from the Cherry Picker when I removed it. I was tempted to tie her legs above her head again, but she seemed to want to be bound so that she was hanging by her wrists and mid-section from the top of the metal frame. I tied her ankles together instead.