Mother's Cottage at Christmas Ch. 01

With as much effort as I could muster I swung the axe backwards and brought the blade down on the log.

CRACK!

The wood split in two and I gathered up the pieces and dropped them into the basket next to me.

My breath was a cloud in the frosty air and my hands red from the effort of holding the axe. Beads of sweat sat upon my brow as I got the next large log on to the block. Feeling hot, I paused for a moment and shrugged off my jacket. The cold air bristled against my bare arms. I took up the axe again.

CRACK!

Satisfyingly, the log cleaved in two equally. I dropped the axe, picked up the pieces and then as I came back up I saw her stood there.

"Well, look who's got wood."

My Mother. She stood on the garden path with shawl over her shoulders. Her emerald eyes sparkled in the low afternoon sun and her full, red lips smiled at her joke. She came towards me holding out a mug of tea. Dropping the logs into the basket, I took the mug from her, setting it down on the round garden table next to me.

"Thank you" I grinned

"Aren't you cold, darling?" She asked drawing her hand slowly down my arm, the muscles alive from the cold and hefting the axe.

"No it's actually quite invigorating. Do you think that's enough for tomorrow and Boxing Day?"

Mum brushed her blonde hair back and looked at the basket. In her 4-inch heeled black calf-length boots she was more or less the same height as me.

"I think so," she replied, "although did you know that wood cutting actually raises testosterone more than many other physical activities?'

She took a step towards me and I let my arm wrap around her waist.

"Is that so? I can't imagine what might make my testosterone rise more than swinging this axe about."

Mum giggled and then moved her hand to the crotch of my jeans. "Well... I do admire a man who can handle his chopper..."

The innuendo was too ridiculous and I let out a snort. Mum laughed too and our eyes met, her hand was still resting on the now growing bulge in my trousers. I pulled her towards me and our lips met. As the low sun made her hair turn amber I cradled her face as we kissed.

It was a forbidden kiss, in a secluded garden, in an English village, on a cold Christmas Eve.

After dumping the basket of logs by the fireplace, Mum reminded me that we had church for the traditional 'Nine Lessons and Carols' service. My back was drenched in sweat from the chopping and my tshirt clung to my body.

"Go and shower," Mum instructed.

The cottage Mum lived in was cosy enough, but thankfully both of us had a bathroom, mine being the 'main' one while hers was en suite.

The warm water cascaded over my naked chest and I grabbed for the shower gel and began to lather. My body responded to the water and I relaxed, though my cock remained a little hard from our garden kiss.

Our relationship wasn't normal. In fact it was another country from normal, but out here, in the village of Little Oakden, no one knew anything about us.

Picking up my razor I looked down at my cock and balls. Some itchy stubble was forming above my cock, so I took the razor to it. Mum preferred me clean-shaven and over the last few years I liked it too. I cradled my balls searching for any stray hairs and then put the razor down. I held my cock and gently squeezed my fingers. I fought the urge to masturbate, Mum wouldn't like it if I did, but regardless my cock stiffened.

A few minutes wouldn't hurt. I began squeezing my cock with my whole hand and then settled into a rhythm. It was no good, I was definitely aroused. I increased the pace and my hand splashed back and forth under the water. My mind dazed as I let the pleasure in my body increase.

"You're not touching yourself are you?"

I shot bolt upright in the shower and then wiped the door clear. Mum was stood there holding a towel for me. She'd removed her shawl and now I could see the tight, white, low cut top she was wearing. My Mum had fantastic breasts, 34DD and she was unafraid of showing off her cleavage.

I quickly turned the shower off and stepped out. My cock was stiff in front of me pointing like an arrow.

Mum held the towel to one side and stood in front of me, her black boots contrasting with the white tiles of the floor.

"Liar," she said with a smile and the slapped my cock as if she were swatting away a fly.

I cried out at the shock and then let the endorphin rush settle me back down. My cock remained resolutely stiff.

Mum brought the towel up to my head and began to rub me down. I always loved it when she did this, the fluffiness of the towel caressing my body.

She looked down and pinched my cock between her fingers, her red manicured nails tracing along the underside.

"Who does this belong to, John?"

"You, Mummy."

She wrapped her whole hand around my cock and tugged it a few times. I moaned a little.

"Shall we play a game at church, John?" She asked as her hand moved up and down my cock.

"What- what sort of game, Mummy?"

"On all fours, please."

This was a surprise and felt my stomach somersault. My Mum could be devious when she wanted to be so suddenly finding myself kneeling forward on my hands was a worry. I positioned a towel as best I could on the floor.

"Bottom out please, John."

I shivered, but did as she asked. At that moment that I pushed my arse back and out I felt cool drops of oil splattering over my cheeks. Her hand, very slowly and gently began to smooth the oil between my bottom and around my puckered hole. Then, I felt a cold, hard lozenge shape being pushed against my arsehole. I cried out in surprise and the oiled-up toy popped inside my arse.

"What is it?" I asked, my bum muscles squirming as I tried to get used to the sensation.

"It's a vibrator, darling. I have it connected to my phone." Mum sat on the closed toilet next to me and I swivelled to look at her.

My eyes widened with surprise as she showed me the app on her phone. The words 'BUZZ LEVEL' were at the top and in the centre of the screen was a dial, it was set to zero.

"Now watch," she told me as she slid her finger over the dial. I felt a low buzzing in my anus and I cried out. "Tut tut, John," she said as I buzzed, "You can't cry out like that in church, can you?"

I moaned and wriggled in some discomfort. Mum giggled. "I need to get dressed, sweetie". And as she left the bathroom she buzzed me once more.

Dressed in a pair of dark slacks with a white shirt and matching jacket, I walked into my Mum's room to attend to her. She was pulling up a cheery red skirt over her legs which were encased in black stockings, the tops embroidered with red lace effect.

"Zip please."

I walked forward and held my hand on her hip to steady her as I pulled up the zip on her skirt, it fitted tightly over her bottom.

Thanking me, my mother took a step back and began working on her lipstick in the bedroom mirror. Her room was framed by the slanted beams of the cottage roof, her bed was king size and sat in the middle of the cream carpet. Her large oak wardrobe sat off to the side.

I sat down on the bed and watched her put on her make-up as I had done many times before. I was always a little bit spellbound during these moments and I craned my neck forward and she winked at me in the mirror.

A few moments later and she asked me for her jacket. I brought it to her, cheery red to match the skirt with a large fur collar. She buttoned it up at the front and flicked her blonde bob a few times.

"Now... shoes please, John. The Jimmy Choos I think."

I nodded and went to the shoe shelves in the cupboard. My Mum had many different pairs of heels and knew how to wear them and how much I enjoyed them. She'd want her black patent Jimmy Choo pumps to go with her black stockings and I knew where they were. I hooked my fingers inside them and brought them to her. Now it was her turn to sit on the bed.

"Kneel," she commanded.

It doesn't matter how many times I've heard her say it, it still sent an electric shock through me. Slowly I dropped to my knees and with a swish of her nylon rubbing together she crossed her legs.

Her right leg came out straight and she angled it up to rub the stockinged foot over my face. I moaned as the material lightly grazed my face. She turned her foot up flat, positioning it over my mouth, I leaned forward and kissed her foot reverently.

I then took up the black patent pump and placed it over her right foot. She quickly swapped her legs and presented the left foot. I placed the other shoe on.

She then placed both feet on the floor as I knelt in front of her.

"Kiss them."

I bent over forward, now more acutely aware of the vibrator lodged in my arse. I began to kiss the soft leather of the heels, starting at the toes and working my way backwards. My mother ran her fingers through my hair as she did this and I moaned with delight. This was pleasure.

She let me go a few more moments before telling me it was time to leave.

Little Oakden's church perched on the hill that overlooked the sleepy village. It was now gone 6pm and the sun had set. The wind was gentle though and held back the chill of the December evening. I walked, as always, one step behind my mother, carrying her coat, while she held on to her black leather gloves and Chanel 2.55 black bag.

A few heads turned as she walked in. My mother was somewhat of a celebrity in the village. She was, by training, a solicitor and had some years ago found herself being appointed as a local magistrate. She was respected in Little Oakden not only for her position, but also that she dressed well, leaving many men in the village tongue-tied when they encountered her. She strode into the church, her heels echoing on the stonework and selected a pew in the centre.

I sat down next to her as she began to greet some of the other villagers. A bald man with a lisp, Gary turned around and said hello, his red nose suggesting he had spent some time at the 19th hole of the local golf club.s

"It's young master John back from London!"

My mother laughed.

"He's not young, he's nearly thirty and he's not master of anything... or any one, are you, darling?"

I felt the embarrassment creeping up on me and laughed along nervously.

"Never mind, young man," continued Gary. "You look after your Mum, she'll see you alright."

"What wise words," interjected my Mum. "You'll do that, won't you, son?"

"Yes of course." I knew I was a deeper shade of crimson.

The service began. The discomfort of the vibrator in my anus became more acute the longer one sat on the wooden pews. It was sometime after the third reading, when the congregation were invited to stand to sing 'Hark the Herald Angels Sing' that my Mum subtly reached into her Chanel bag and activated her phone.

The buzzing started off slowly to begin with. A rumble that made my cheeks tremble. I manfully made it through the first verse, but I could feel the vibration increasing. I looked around the church. Did anyone know this was what was happening? Did anyone know I was a young man with a vibrator slid up my bum? I could feel my face begin to redden again.

I got through verse two, even with the vibrator shooting pleasure through me that was causing my cock to thicken. I daren't look over at my Mum who I knew must be smirking between every verse.

Trying to think about other things I struggled through the third verse, my order of service shaking in my hand, and then the final chorus.

Mum must have pushed the dial to max. My cock and sphincter were throbbing as the vibe shook inside me. I could no longer sing, instead, a sort of strangulated bleating emerged from my mouth.

"HAAAAARK THE HEEEEERALD AHHHNGELS SIIIIING!"

People began to look around, one woman tutted. I stood and swayed a little from side to side as my arse and cock shook and my balls flooded.

The carol came to an end and we were invited to sit once more. I could barely see straight and Gary looked around at me like I was mad. My Mother though was trying not to laugh, her red lips fixed in a smirk to end all smirks.

There was one more humiliation to endure: The Lord's Prayer. As we were all invited to pray most of the parishioners were asked to sit.

Firmly my Mother ordered me to "Kneel" and I dropped down in front of the pew, my knees gratefully resting on a cushion featuring a Nativity scene.

The prayer began from the vicar and the villagers in the church repeated. My mother said nothing but instead rested her hand on my shoulder as I whispered the words only she could hear.

"Our Mother

Who is my Heaven

Hallowed be Her name

Her Queendom come

Her will be done

On Earth as it is in Heaven

Give Her each day Her daily head

And forgive us our red asses

As we forgive those who would not understand us

And lead us into temptation

For Hers in the Queendom

The Power and the Glory

Forever and ever.

Amen."

On the final amen Mum once again activated the buzzer. The vibe shook inside my arse and my hands shook as I prayed. Across the aisle another pensioner looked at me disapprovingly and whispered to her friend.

"He's drunk!"

We returned home and Mum popped around to our elderly next door neighbours to check they were OK and had everything they needed for Christmas Day.

I meanwhile had to sort myself out. I'd been given permission to remove the vibrator from my anus and did so, cleaning it off. I'd also be told to get into my PJs. I looked genuinely surprised when I saw a set of Transformers pyjamas laying on my bed. They fit me well enough, but the effect of the childish clothing was to once again make me feel somewhat embarrassed.

My next task was to return the vibrator to Mum's stash. I went to the far end of the wardrobe where the door was locked. I reached up on top of the wardrobe and grabbed the key. I then unlocked the door. Inside was my Mum's secret stash, the tools, toys and clothes of our hidden life. Hanging from the rail were a selection of outfits, some in black PVC and leather, others more costumes, a maid, a nun, a school teacher. Below were a set of drawers containing other items. The middle drawer was toys and inside were a variety of vibrators, cuffs, lube and clothes pegs. I dropped the anal vibe back into the drawer and closed it. Suddenly I shot bolt upright as I heard Mum's voice.

"Darling, I hope you weren't being naughty and looking for presents?"

She stood in the doorway of the bedroom, her jacket now off, but with her arms folded across her crisp white blouse, her legs stretching the red skirt as she tapped on the floor impatiently with her heel.

"No, Mum, I was just returning the vibrator, I -"

Mum strode forward and reached out pinching my ear.

"I think my baby boy was looking for presents, wasn't he?"

I shook my head, but Mum simply tutted and twisted my ear a little. I yelped.

"No, naughty boy was looking for presents. And it's time he got his punishment."

"Mum, I-" but before I could say anymore she let go of my ear and kissed me directly on the lips. I moaned for second as our hands found each others' bodies. She caressed my cock through my PJs while I squeezed her bum.

She pulled away and breathing deeply she said "Spanking now. Hands on the dresser."

My heart pounded as I walked over to the dressed and put my hands down in front of me. Behind me, I heard Mum go to her drawer of toys.

I looked into the mirror and gasped. She was holding in her hand a plastic red and white candy cane. I assumed it must have been a Christmas tree decoration, it was about a foot long with a crook at the end.

Standing behind me, I stared in the mirror as Mum looked back at me and ran her tongue the entire length of the candy cane. It was so sexy I could only look slack-jawed at the sight. She pursed her lips forward and then slid the candy cane into her mouth. She sucked it back and forth for a moment and I moaned once more.

Mum took another step forward and I suddenly felt my PJ bottoms being pulled down around my ankles. My cock sprang forward, hanging just below the dresser, but painfully erect.

As she grinned from ear to ear, I had a moment to brave myself as she threw her arm back and brought the cane swinging down onto my bare arse.

"Count and thank me!"

THWACK!

"OWWW! One... thank you, Mummy."

I felt the air bristle again.

THWACK!

"TWO! Th-Thank you, Mummy."

She reached around and grabbed my cock shaking it from side to side.

"Naughty boy, looking for presents. Can't wait for Santa to come!"

THWACK!

"THREE!! Thank you, Mummy!"

"Are you sorry? Are you going to be a good boy? Are you going to stop peeking into Mummy's things?"

"Yes, Mummy, yes I will, I-"

THWACKKKK!

"FUCK! Four! Four, thank you, Mummy."

"Did you just say a naughty word, John?"

"No! I mean, yes, I mean-"

THWACKK! THWACKK! THWACKK!"

"FIVE, SIX, SEVEN, THANK YOU, MUMMY, I'M SORRY!"

She pulled on my cock now with every word: "Wicked boy, naughty little boy, shame on you for peeking at Mummy's things!"

THWACKK! THWACKK! THWACKK!

Three more blows that I counted out and thanked her for. I could see in the mirror how flush she'd become from my beating, how alive, how magnificent. I too felt the surge of life flow through me, my arse stung and my cock sent floods of pleasure throughout my body. The pain was real though and I could feel myself starting to get choked-up. The emotions were all too real. Some part of my reeling brain had registered that I'd got to ten counts.

The candy cane clattered on to the top of the dresser.

"Come here, darling."

Mum pulled me back on to the bed and then pushed me down do my head was resting on her lap. My PJ bottoms were still around my ankles and my cock was throbbing hard. Mum stroked my hair and I planted gentle kisses on to her stockinged thighs.

"Mummy loves you so much, baby. So, so much. You understand that when you misbehave you get punished, don't you?"

She leaned over and kissed my head. My tongue traced little circles over her stockings. Above my head her large breasts nuzzled against me.

"Let me see your cock."

I nodded and pulled my head from her lap and leaned back letting her see my engorged prick.

Mum smiled and wrapped her hand around it, squeezing.

"Now listen, my darling boy, tonight is the night that Santa comes, which means you need to sleep. But I'm afraid it doesn't look like your naughty little penis is going to let you, does it?"

I shook my head.

Mum mock sighed and then winked at me. I smiled back. This was a game we had played many times but the thrill never dulled.

"Come along, young man into bed. You can sleep in Mummy's room tonight."

I scooted back across the bed sheets and pushed them down. Laying on my back, my cock still red and proud in front of me, I looked over at my mother in the lamp light.

She went to her special wardrobe and opened up one of the drawers. Mum pulled out a glove. Like an opera glove but shiny and black in PVC. She pulled the glove on to her right hand hand, tugging at the material all the way up to her elbow.

She then crossed over to the bed and sat down next to me, holding in her ungloved hand a small bottle of lube. My mother squeezed the bottle down over my cock and I felt the cool liquid drip on the head.

Mum tossed the bottle aside and then gripped my cock with her gloved hand. I moaned with delight as she began to work her hand up and down my shaft.

As she stroked me, she began to talk to me in a soft and affectionate way.

"Who is my good boy? Who is my darling love? Who looks after Mummy, takes care of her every wish, her every need? Who does my little boy come to when he needs cuddles and kisses and someone to stroke his boy cock? Is it Mummy? You know it is. You always come to Mummy... you always cum for Mummy, don't you?"