tagIncest/TabooAriadne's Dreams Ch. 02

Ariadne's Dreams Ch. 02

byLordOfHell©

Ariadne never really understood what happened to her that night, but the change was sudden and significant. For ten years, she had buried something powerful and carnal . . . something that had only mutated and grown with passing neglect. . . something she had once ignored to pour everything of herself into raising her son—the last living link to her husband. It had existed there all along, just waiting for the door to open just a peek and help it manifest in full force.

Oh, she had certainly masturbated before, most often in her teen years before she met Stewart, but she was still a young girl that knew nothing about sex or the secrets of her own body. Then once Stewart had come along, she never had any need of it. She saved her body and its pleasures for him and him alone; a habit that, in retrospect, must have become commonplace by the time he passed. In the ten years following his death, Ariadne had never really thought of sex all that much, it was like after the tragedy, a switch just been set to 'off'.

Well now, she had gone and flipped that switch again. It was on. God almighty, was it on.

For the first time in her life, Ariadne was eager to discover the woman she saw in the mirror. The slut she had seen a taste of that night. She felt like a teenager all over again, giddy to experiment . . . to try new things . . . to find new ways to test her flesh.

As she'd promised herself the night before, she took a shopping trip. Only, instead of going to the clothing outlet as planned, she took a trip to the opposite end of the mall, where a quaint sex and novelty shop was stashed away in the corner. Upon entrance, her nostrils flooded with a scent she hadn't experienced in over ten years—fresh leather, rubber and incense permeated through the tight spaces of the sex shop, adding a rush of excitement that she hadn't anticipated.

Part of her felt that she shouldn't be here . . . that this wasn't the place for a woman like her.

But she stayed. She simply couldn't leave. Something within was bolstering her courage . . . highlighting her eagerness.

She closed her eyes and took a breath. She felt the same rush —the familiar feeling as conscious thought melded seamlessly with inner lust. She tried to find that hidden place . . . that secret which hid something dark and forbidden. She dreamt of it . . . her mind constructed the doorway, and she reached for it. She pushed it open, just a little.

When her eyes opened again, the switch had pulled once again. The "slut" was in control.

Unflinchingly, she took a handbasket and began picking items from the racks and shelves, tossing them inside one after another. No reasoned thought drove her choices; no calculated interest swayed her. She allowed the lust which seeped from her core to choose for her—snatching up items which made her body tremble and her pussy moist with possibilities. She piled them on, one after another, until the first handbasket was full.

By the time she was finished, there were three of them, each filled to the brim with toys. She placed them all on the sales counter and urged the boy behind the register to hurry with his scanning. Or, at least she thought that's what she was urging. The sidelong glance he held with her for a moment said that he may have interpreted something different.

There was a flash of lust in his eyes, a curiosity about the type of woman who could walk into his store and purchase so much of his inventory in such a short visit. A knowing smirk rose on his pierced lip and his head shook with disbelief.

"Well, I guess you're planning some pretty interesting nights, huh?" he remarked.

"That's what I'm going for," she answered with a smile of faux-innocence.

"You . . . uh . . . you got anybody to help you try some of this stuff?"

Her head cocked to one side. "Nooooo. . . . Why?"

"Just saying. You might, ah, need someone to teach you."

She licked her lips at the thought, pure lust driving her. This boy was half her age, not much older than her own son. He paled in comparison to Barry's sturdy build, however. And while the boy certainly wasn't bad looking in any sense, his thin features really did nothing for her. She was almost horny enough that it didn't matter, but she wasn't that far gone yet. Her body knew well what it wanted, and she didn't this child could offer.

She handed over a check and shook her head in reply. "Thanks, but I can manage for now," she said with as friendly a smile as she could muster.

"Alright," the boy shrugged, bagging the last of her items. "But you know where I work, in case you change your mind. Name's Rick. You look like a lady who knows how to have some fun."

And fun is exactly what she had when she got home. When the door slammed behind her, she dropped the bags on the dining room table and kicked the heels from her feet. She shed her clothes hurriedly, tossing layer upon layer to the floor until her slender figure emerged stark naked. She felt the force inside her growing stronger, more impatient with her. Her pussy was dripping with urgency.

Again, when she woke later in the evening, she hardly remembered a thing. All she knew was that her pussy was dreadfully sore, and yet felt the best it had in ten years. She didn't remember anything she did, only that the pleasure had made it impossible for to think. She had transformed from Ariadne to "the slut" yet again.

And she needed more.

It took all of October and most of November for her to grow bored with her purchases. She had used each one of them. . . in every hole her body possessed . . . sometimes at the same time. But it wasn't enough anymore. That slut inside was growing stronger, and she needed stronger toys to compensate.

She made plans to go back, once she managed to catch up on her work. She had been dividing most of her time between her home décor business and her new "hobby", and at first it was hard to balance the two. She vaguely remembered that the first few days, she hardly got out of bed at all. By the end of the week, she was somewhat functional, but she was still prone to fits where she would just stop everything she was doing with the sudden craving to stick something inside her. It could happen anywhere in the house, at any time, and she would wake up back on the bed some hours later. During the next week, she finally established enough control to get through her day, but she had stopped wearing clothes outright and she almost always had something stuffed inside her holes at all times.

By this point, Ariadne had resigned to referring to herself by two different names. The normal, everyday personality was still just plain old "Ariadne Garrett", and the wanton, hypersexual personality was simply called "the slut". She felt a little silly calling herself by two different names, but often helped her cope with some of the more brazen things she tried. When calling herself "the slut", she lost all inhibition, all fear and restriction. It wasn't Ariadne who walked around the house stark nude—that was "the slut". It wasn't Ariadne who kept a finger in her pussy while on the phone with her business clientele—that was "the slut". And it certainly wasn't Ariadne who refused to wear panties and often fingered herself in public places—that, too, was the dirty, wicked "slut". It was quite the convenient half-truth, and Ariadne was beginning to invest in it wholesale.



What the heck happened to me?! She wondered solemnly. She had never been this type of person before, even when her husband had been around. Sure, she was his slut whenever he needed her to be, but she wasn't this brazen about it. When the "slut" was loose, the very thought of having to wear clothes disgusted her now. They served no purpose, except saving precious seconds that her body could be using for pleasure.

In her saner, more lucid periods, she sometimes Googled "nymphomania", "hypersexuality" and "sex addiction", worried about her sudden transformation, but from what she could tell, she wasn't suffering from anything like that. Her "hobbies" were beginning to balance with her normal life pretty seamlessly now. According to her research, the first sign of addiction is an inability to maintain a normal life alongside whatever other "needs" she had. That certainly wasn't the case for now: she was still getting work done even as she typed at her computer screen fulfilling client orders while sitting around stark naked, with a string of beads in her ass.

She felt a singe of relief at that, secure in the knowledge that as long as she could maintain her normal life, everything would be peachy-keen.

She kept up this habit for quite some time, and by Thanksgiving, she was becoming quite settled into it.

"Yeah, I'm homesick. I'm not gonna lie to you. And I don't wanna eat any of the crap they serve around here for Thanksgiving, that's for sure. I need some of what you got over there. Nobody does Thanksgiving like you, Ma."

Barry's voice paused a moment before he continued, "Ma? You there? Ma. Ma!?"

Ariadne's head rose from the mattress and she desperately gasped for air, wheezing as she tried to force the surge of her orgasm to recede. She picked up the receiver at her side, and turned off the speaker and mute.

"Yes baby, I'm here. I'm sorry." Her finger disappeared into her slit up to the knuckle. "I'm just working so hard . . ."

"Huh. I thought you usually took time off from your business stuff during this time of year."

"Yeah, well . . . I . . . with you gone, I just need something to keep me busy."

"I guess that makes sense. But anyway, I just wanted to let you know I'll be home in a few days. Seeya when I seeya."

He hung up the phone and Ariadne dropped just let the receiver fall to the floor. She placed both hands between her legs and forced as many fingers into her pussy that she could manage at one time.

The night before Barry was to finally come home, Ariadne spent a long session in her dream, having her first real heart-to-heart conversation with "the slut".

"Okay, listen you," she said, staring intently into the lustful eyes of the woman inside the mirror. "My son comes home tomorrow, so all of this will need to stop while he's here . . . just until he's left again."

You can't keep me away for that long, the slut answered with a smirk.



Ariadne felt her own hand rubbing against her thigh, stoking the body's fires with lust.

Mmmm . . . N-No!" She scolded herself, yanking her hand away. "This was fun while I was alone, but I'm not going to let Barry think his mom has become some disgusting, sex-crazed old cougar. Hell, I can barely even convince myself that I'm not! He's the only thing I have left, and I don't want you driving him away!

"So please . . .! Just for as long as Barry is here, let me have control again." She bit her lip. "You can do whatever you like with me, as soon as Barry leaves home again."

Mmmmmmm . . . The slut purred, her hips swaying and naked breasts bouncing as she walked closer to Ariadne. You have a deal. Her finger tips reached out and stroked Ariadne's own naked breast. But, as you know, Barry isn't here YET . . .



Once again, when Ariadne awoke, it was a slippery body and a sore pussy. She prayed that this would be the last such night, until Barry was safely back at school.

Barry's plane arrived at 10:25, and Ariadne was waiting at the terminal when it arrived. She eagerly greeted her handsome boy with a hug, and he showed off his strength by lifting her up from her heels and swinging her in an arch.

"Careful!" she demanded playfully. "Your mother is a little too old for acrobatics!"

"Aw, I wasn't gonna hurt ya," Barry said nonchalantly. "But anyway, how've you been, Ma?"

"Oh, like I said, busy busy busy."

"Oh really? I thought after getting me out of the house, you'd start throwing wild parties every night or something."

She scoffed. "I'm not like you, young man. And you better not be throwing parties either. You're at that school to study."

Barry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. But, anyway, I've been itching for one of those greasy burgers from Nick's. They don't have those in Cali, either."

Ariadne glanced back toward the baggage claim. "What about your luggage . . .?"

"Oh, I didn't bring anything," Barry told her. "I got all the stuff I'll need in my old room. I prefer to travel light, if I can."

The strange habits kids can develop after leaving the nest, Ariadne thought.

"Okay," she said, taking his hand. "Let's go get you that burger, honey. My treat."

The restaurant was more crowded than they would have liked, so they just took their order to go and decided to eat back home. Barry didn't wait that long, of course, and began stuffing his mouth as soon as he got in her car.

"Sorry, Ma," he said through a mouthful, "it was a long plane ride."

She just shook her head and smiled. "Yeah, right. That's no excuse, boy."

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry, mom. We can't all be high paragons of self-control like you."

Those words punched a bit of sore spot, forcing Ariadne to swallow a lump in her throat. Is that what he saw her as? A "paragon of self-control"? Thank God he hadn't seen her these last few months, then. He never would have recognized the woman that raised him. She couldn't ever let him find out. She had to remain in control, no matter what it took.

But, she could feel her pussy moistening just from the thought of what she had done. Even now, how much control did she really have? She hadn't even bothered wearing any panties to the airport, and here she was, sitting a foot or two away from her son, who didn't have any clue about what she had done. About the urges that she kept locked away.

God help her, she was getting horny just from the naughtiness of it.

"Mom!"

Startled, she immediately snapped back to reality, only now becoming aware of the finger stimulating her clit.

"Er . . . what? What is it, honey?" She asked, placing both hands back on the wheel.

"You didn't hear what I asked, did you?"

"No, baby, I didn't. Sorry, I must have dazed off a bit . . ."

"Pfft. Geez, I didn't know I was that boring . . ."

"No, no! You're not, sweetheart. I'm just . . . thinking a lot about work."

"Man, it's just work work work with you these days. If it's that boring in the house, why don't you get out and do something? Make some friends?"

"No, that's okay . . . I'm fine . . . really."

Barry sighed. "If you say so. Anyway, in a weird way, I guess you answered what I asked."

"What was the question, sweetie?"

Barry chuckled. "I asked if you'd found a boyfriend."

Ariadne choked. "W-What?! Of all the--? What would possess you to ask me that!?"

He shrugged. "Well, it's going on 11 years since Dad died, and now that you're all alone, I thought . . ."

"No. No, I'm fine, sweetie. I've got it under control."

"Well, I wasn't doubting that you did, but . . . I mean, well, you're my Ma and all, but you're still a woman . . ."

"Please, Barry, can you just drop this? This isn't right for us to be talking about." Her voice was disapproving, but her pussy lips were moistening.

Barry crossed his arms and leaned back. "Fine."

Things were quiet the rest of the trip home, and Ariadne's little close call motivated her to maintain tight self-control for the duration of the day. Barry, naturally, trudged right off to his room and turned on his videogames with nary a word. In the meantime, Ariadne knew she needed to get things ready for Thanksgiving dinner. She would be cooking most of the meal on her own, from scratch, so it was important to get things started.

Thirty minutes later, while she was taking inventory of everything she would need, she realized that she didn't have enough eggs. She could have sworn that she'd had more than this, but then again, she hadn't exactly been making regular trips to the store anymore. At least, not since . . .

Anyway, she knew she was going to need some eggs, but she didn't want to waste time on preparations. There was only one thing left to do.

"Barry, honey?" she called through the house, hoping her son could hear her from his bedroom. After a second, he came into the kitchen. "I need some eggs from the store. Mind grabbing some for me?"

"Aw, and I just turned on my Playstation . . ."

"Oh, well," she shrugged, "I guess if you don't want me to finish Thanksgiving dinner, then neverm—"

"Okay, okay . . . I'm going . . . ."

She tossed him the keys to her car. "Good boy. Be sure to check them before you buy them."

"I know, I know! Geez!"

After Barry left, Ariadne went back to work, gathering ingredients and utensils. It wasn't long after, however, that she began to get that same feeling of isolation as she had on the night Barry had left for college. Pausing from the task at hand, she looked around at the empty house, feeling that same sense of loneliness.

It wasn't until a few seconds later that she realized that one of her hands was rubbing her breast through her blouse yet again.

"No," she said to herself. "You promised. You promised to wait until Barry went back to college . . .!"

I made no such promise, the slut answered from within. I promised to wait until 'Barry left home'. And guess what he just did . . .?



Ariadne moaned as her hands slipped under her blouse. "But that's . . . that's not what I meant—"

Then you should haven't chosen you words more carefully. And don't forget YOUR end the deal. You promised that you wouldn't fight me again if I waited until he left. Do you plan to renege it?

Ariadne had no choice. The beast inside her had her trapped. "No."

She dropped everything and rushed into her bedroom. After she kicked the door closed, she dove underneath her bed and grabbed the extra-long dildo along with the KY. After fingering her asshole for a minute, she slowly began to work the hard metal tool into the opening. Her ass didn't see much action, so it was still incredibly tight. It created a surreal suction around the dildo as it slid inside, inch after inch. Ariadne was already cumming, gripping the sheets as she shook through a powerful orgasm. The slut instinct still kept tight control over the rod in her ass, giving it a nice, smooth stir as it explored the walls in her anus.

The slut knew everything that Ariadne wanted. Every time she felt one orgasm subside, there was another one right on its heels. There she was, pushing and pulling the dildo in and out of her own ass, but it felt like surrender. It made feel that much hotter to believe that there was something else inside doing it to her. It let her unleash a wilder side . . . a side willing to take risks in the name of pleasure. A side uninhibited by fear or "decency". With that side in control, she wasn't touching herself . . . she was fucking herself.

"Oh God . . .! Oh, Goooood . . ." Ariadne moaned.

Look into the glass, the slut commanded her. I want you to watch yourself being fucked.



Ariadne opened her eyes and glanced into the glass. The delirious look of ecstasy in her eyes added more flame to the lust burning inside. Her eyes were glazed, her mouth wide and panting, completely lost to the bliss she experienced.

She pounded the dildo in and out of her ass faster, ready to let the slut fuck herself with total abandon. "Yes! Yes, fuck me! Fuck me!" she shouted. "Fuck—"

But just then, her eyes caught something else in the glass. Somehow, the door was ajar, and there was a pair of eyes watching . . .

"Oh shit . . .!" She pulled the dildo out of her ass and turned. Her eyes went wide when she recognized the intruder. "Barry?!"

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