Chapter 1

He pried apart the cheeks of her ass with one hand while reaching for the jug of olive oil with the other. She was on her knees, head buried in the mattress, her ass up in the air. He had taken her this way every time since first coming to own her just over two weeks before. It wasn't that he didn't like fucking face to face ― he liked it just fine ― but he wanted her to know that he was in control here. She was his to do as he saw fit.

The oil had been a necessity ― well not so much a necessity as a small kindness ― although she didn't realize it at the time. She was always dry when he took her and although his plan was to ensure her complete submission it didn't include excessive or unnecessary pain. The sex was a necessary part of that plan, an extremely pleasurable part of that plan as far as he was concerned but he had no desire to have her associate pain with his pleasure. It was his hope that sooner or later she would also begin to feel pleasure from their coupling. A willing and enthusiastic participant was much more desirable than an unwilling and recalcitrant one and he was prepared to take as long as it took to achieve that goal. This time it looked like maybe, just maybe, his plan was actually working.

Under the small brown crinkled star of her anus he could see the soft, fleshy lips of her cunt; it looked like they were actually moist! Ignoring the jug of oil he brought his hand back to gently trace those lips with the tip of his finger and smiled, they were damp! Slowly he wormed the tip of his finger inside her and felt her body shiver although she didn't try to pull away like she had the first few times he had explored her. She was wet, not gushing wet but wet nonetheless.

"I think someone is starting to enjoy this," he mused out loud.

"No," came the muffled reply.

"Really? That's not what your body's telling me."

She didn't answer as he slowly worked his finger in and out, her natural lubrication wetting his finger more with each plunge. Bending down and craning his neck up he let his tongue lightly lap at the exposed lips while still moving his finger deeper and deeper into her center. He found the taste of her hairless lips exquisite, a heady blend of musk and perspiration; she whimpered but didn't say anything. At this angle his neck was getting sore so drawing back he lightly slapped her on one ass cheek and said, "Turn over, on your back." She gave a small sob and complied. What else could she do? Her hands were still bound and besides he had the legal right to do with her whatever he pleased.

She rolled to her back and he gently but firmly pushed her legs apart until her quim was fully exposed to his gaze. Dropping down again he began to lick at her open slit, his rasping tongue softly caressing her blood-engorged lips, dipping deeper to sample the juices her treasonous body began making even more copiously. No man had ever done this to her and she squeezed her eyes shut, the inherent feeling of wrongness on so many levels battling with the new sensations emanating from her groin.

The feeling was extremely pleasant and her legs involuntarily splayed even farther apart opening her up even more to his gentle ministrations. The sensations increased as he delved deeper, his tongue touching every part of her channel it could reach. She fought to control her sounds of pleasure valiantly until the tip of his tongue rubbed the engorged button located at the top of her slit; then she gasped out loud and her bound hands came up to rest on the top of his head, not to push away but with fingers entwined in his short hair to pull him down into her even harder.

"Oh, Powers!" she groaned as her hips bucked up into his mouth, she had lost all conscious control over her body. "Oh, Lords!" she repeated as he took her nub between his teeth and gently nipped it. Suddenly a sensation completely new raced through her body freezing her in a stiff rigor of pleasure and blanking everything else from her mind. She whined loudly, hands pulling him in even tighter as her legs lifted trapping his head in the smooth vise of her thighs.

It was some minutes before she recovered from the first orgasm she had experienced in her thirty-six years of life. Even as her head cleared she felt his insistent prodding and she again rolled over and lifted her ass into the air as his unspoken instructions demanded. Eyes closed and face pressed firmly into the pillow of the bed they shared she felt his hands gently grasp her inner thighs and firmly move her legs apart spreading her pussy lips and opening her up for his use. His hands moved to her hips and the next thing she felt was the spongy head of his cock pressing against her lewdly splayed opening.

"No, Antal," she protested weakly but offering no other resistance.

"Yes, Ilona," he said firmly as he started to push his way into her wet embrace.

Initially she didn't know who her new master was when she was first bought. He'd had her bound at the wrists and hooded before he led her through the busy streets of Eregli. In some part she was glad to be hooded even though it caused her to stumble over the uneven cobblestones of the street. She'd lived in Eregli all her life and the thought of her neighbors and friends seeing her reduced to bondage was one less thing she had to bear for the moment.

They had come for her and the house less than a week after Janos, her husband, had died. A grossly fat man thirty years her senior, he had passed suddenly while enjoying the pleasures of a young boy at one of the local whorehouses. Ilona was his second wife as he was her second husband. She had felt compelled to remarry four years after her first husband died at sea during a fishing expedition. Janos's preference for young boys was never an issue. He needed a wife to manage his household and be the hostess for the many formal and informal gatherings and parties he gave in the furtherance of what she believed was a thriving trading venture. Her first marriage had been arranged by her parents and, although loveless, was comfortable. Never having felt the touch of a true lover's hand she missed the sexual aspect of her second union not at all. Her only regret was her son, eight years old at the time of his father's death and twelve when they came to live with Janos, never forgave her for the marriage. He left abruptly when he reached the age of sixteen and she hadn't seen or heard from him in the four years since.

After Janos' death it became quickly apparent the trading business was much less solvent then Ilona had believed and the creditors descended almost before the body was cold and decently burned. As his wife, Ilona was held responsible for her late husband's debts and when the sale of the business assets, including their house, could not meet the obligations, the local court quickly ordered her sold into slavery to satisfy the remainder. Within days she had been auctioned, sold and her new master came to claim her.

Hooded, she could only hear the laughter and jeers of her former neighbors as she was led along the winding streets. Presently she was guided out of the hot afternoon sun into the cool of her new home. She heard a door closing behind her and just as quickly she was pushed another few steps into the room and roughly bent over the back of something with padding, a chair, she assumed. She cried out once as her arms were yanked down and securely fastened. She couldn't move them and her feet could no longer touch the floor as she perched precariously over the back of the furniture. Again she cried out as her short slave tunic was pushed up over her bare ass but a sharp smack on her exposed bottom cut short the protest.

She had no time to think as the cheeks of her ass were pried apart and a finger prodded her bone-dry cunt. Her assailant grunted once and shortly the finger returned this time coated with something slippery. Her master swathed a great deal of this lubricant around and in her cunt before the finger left her. She heard the rustle of clothing from behind and suddenly what could only be a cock had replaced the finger and began to slowly but firmly drive into her. She felt only a little pain but no pleasure as the invading monster slowly filled her until its spongy head nestled up against the rubbery hardness of her cervix. She could only grunt as the fleshy invader began its slow sawing into her body.

Ilona had never derived pleasure from sex and this time was no different. This was little more than her new master demonstrating he had complete control, using her for his own pleasure and confirming her new status in the world.

It didn't take long before her master quickened his motion, fucking into her firmly without any regard for her comfort. At last he thrust deep and expelled his seed into the mouth of her womb, giving a satisfied grunt as he did. Standing motionless for a few minutes, hands grasping her hips, his softening cock finally slipped from her gooey sheath and he patted her bottom as one would a favorite pet. Soon her still-bound hands were released and she was pulled back to stand upright. The hood was pulled off her head and she was finally able to see the face of her new master.

"Antal!" she screamed.

"Yes, Ilona," he said as he pushed slowly into her.

"This is so wrong, Antal," she whispered. She said the same thing every time he took her which was sometimes as often as three times a day. "I'm your mother."

"You're my slave," he grinned as he bottomed out, the head of his cock bumping up against her cervix. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with what we're doing." He began the slow in and out thrusting he normally did. But this time it was different, this time he wasn't using the olive oil to assist their coupling, this time it was her own natural oils easing the mating.

"I think you like this," he persisted.

"No," she protested weakly gasping and then moaning as he jabbed a short hard thrust into her.

"Why can't you admit you like it?" he asked never changing his pace.

"Because it's wrong," she sighed.

"Our Herceg's first wife is his mother," Antal pointed out. The Herceg was the local equivalent of a duke or governor of the province. It was their custom that royalty take their mothers as first wives when they ascend to their positions. "The emperor's first wife is his mother. Can it be wrong for me to take my mother for my first?"

"We aren't royalty," she answered through gritted teeth. His constant thrusting was driving her up the plane to another orgasm. "And I am your slave, not your wife."

"You are my woman," he grunted and began to quicken his thrusts. "You will always be the first woman in my life and will always be mine." He stopped talking and began to seriously mount her as she grunted beneath him bringing them both closer to their release. Finally as they both approached their peaks he thrust deeply one last time and began to spew his seed into her waiting womb just as she crested and her body began to shake with the release of her orgasm.

"Why, Antal?" she asked again after they had been resting for a while.

"Why what?" he lazed as he nuzzled her neck. She was lying on her side with her son spooned up behind her, one arm possessively around her chest his hand cupping a breast.

"Why do you insist on fucking me?" she persisted. "Do you hate me that much?"

"I don't hate you," he insisted. "Well, not anymore, anyway. I hated you when you married that asshole. There was no reason for that; we were doing fine. We still had some money and I was old enough to start working on the boats. We would have had plenty to live on and if you needed a man in your life I could have taken care of that too."

"It wasn't that at all," she insisted. "It seemed like that best choice at the time." Grunting, she continued, "Looking back, I suppose it wasn't the best choice I could have made."

"Not for you, maybe," he said giving her breast a gentle squeeze. "And certainly not for me at the time either, but right now it sure turned out just fine for me. I think you actually enjoyed it today and I think the more we do it the more you'll enjoy it."

"That's not the point," she persisted. "I'm still your mother and boys shouldn't bed their mothers."

"Who says?" he snorted. "Tell that one to the Emperor, and Milklos has been fucking his mother for years ever since that needle-dicked father of his couldn't get it up. She sure hasn't been complaining."

"Milklos' mother is nothing but a slut," Ilona retorted. "She'd bed anything on two legs and some with four."

"So? You're my slut now and sooner or later you're going to realize that the only place my cock belongs is in your cunt."

"You should have a wife of your own," she said changing tactics. "A pretty young wife that can give you children and a home to come back to. What could you possibly want with an old woman like me?"

"You are beautiful, and still young," he said lazily, his fingers playing idly with her stiffening nipples. "You should have been mine four years ago and now you're where you belong. You should have been my woman when I turned sixteen; you should have waited. You should have given yourself to me, but no, instead I had to put up with you being fondled by that fat bastard. You know I even had to threaten him with a knife to keep him from fucking my ass?"

"I am so sorry, Antal," she whispered turning to lay her head on his hairy chest, tears running down her cheeks to drip into the dark furry mat. "If I had only known..."

"What would you have done?" he demanded. "He was your husband. Everything that was yours was his, even me. What would you have done? Left him? He would just send the peacekeepers to find and drag us back. I kept him away from me. He knew if he touched me again I'd cut his little balls off and stuff them down his throat. You couldn't do anything."

"I am so sorry," she whimpered again. "Please, are you going to keep punishing me forever?"

"Punish you?" he mused. "I suppose it is a punishment of a sort, but that's not why I bought you. I loved you, Ilona. Loved you and wanted you from the time I understood there was a difference between boys and girls and now I have you. In fact I still love you. You are my mother but you are now my woman and soon you will realize that and grow to love me as your man."

"I do love you, Antal," she protested. "With all my heart, I do love you. But we should not be ... lovers. I don't love you like that."

"You will," he said confidently. "You will and if not then at least I have what I want and that's all that matters."

As the days came and went, Ilona realized that life as her son's slave wasn't all that much different than being a fisherman's wife, or even a rich man's wife for that matter. She cooked and cleaned, shopped for the groceries and whatever else was needed for their household. The first few days in the marketplace were difficult. She endured the taunts of former friends and the sellers in their stalls but that passed quickly. Soon she hardly noticed the thin metal slave collar around her neck and those she dealt with seemed to do the same.

It had to be common knowledge that her own son was bedding her but the taunts and recriminations she expected never materialized. It would seem Antal was correct: Nobody cared. It was just a man using his slave as was expected. She soon came to realize that he was probably also correct that nobody would have cared if she had been bedding him even if she hadn't been his slave. Outside of royalty it wasn't a common practice, but it wasn't completely unknown. Again people had better things to worry about.

His attentions were fairly continuous and relentless. It was difficult to pretend she didn't enjoy his frequent use of her body. Although she tried to never let him know, it was fairly obvious he wasn't fooled by her weak and almost automatic protests. The fact was he was never rough with her and always did his best to make her orgasm during their intercourse which was by now almost as frequent as her protests. The only time he left her alone was during his frequent "business trips" or when she hurt from cramping during her monthly flows. At first when she discovered he would let her be if she felt bad, she considered feigning illness more often but now she didn't even consider it.

Other than being used frequently as a vigorous young man is apt to do ― although no more often than any other young bride would expect ― being her son's slave was not unpleasant. She even derived some small status and respectability from being of his household. After all, her son was one of the most prosperous smugglers along their section of coast and, in their niche in society, smugglers were well respected and approved of.

"Why do you do it, Antal?" she would ask. "It's so dangerous. You know what the penalty would be if you are caught." He did: It was death.