Mother's Helper Ch. 19-24

"Not at all. If you want, you can watch at first so you pick up some tips and techniques. Then you can have her alone, or we can have her together."

"Wow." Flabbergasted, Floyd put his hand on Matt's shoulder.

"Matt, this is incredible."

Matt turned to him with a big, warm smile. "Hey, we're roommates, right?"

That night with Floyd at the boys' apartment had indeed been a marathon. When they arrived, Matt was too tired to do anything and went straight to bed, leaving her to this novice. Floyd had finished with her about 3:00 am, he'd left her hanging at the foot of his bed while he slept. Her hands were left stretched and tied to the top of the six-foot bedposts, her mound pressed against the hard horizontal railing, her legs stretched to the breaking point, ankles tied to the bottom of the bedposts.

While Matt was sleeping in his room, Floyd had acted like a kid running amok in a new toy store. He'd whipped her with every implement she'd brought and fucked her everywhere. But worst of all, he'd passed out without even thinking about removing the clamps from her nipples, clit and labia. At least she hadn't brought any weights; they were too heavy to carry. Otherwise who knows what he might have done to her abused nipples. Nor could she wake him to beg for the clamps to be removed, because he'd stuffed her mouth with the gag. Even with the gag, she was surprised her screams from the vicious caning had not aroused Matt.

By the time Matt woke up and found her, he was concerned with how far Floyd had gone. She looked a mess. Her breasts were still bound harshly. A large, black dildo had been stuffed in her ass. Three breadsticks protruded from her cunt. And he was not pleased to find her still clamped. The pain she withstood when he removed the ropes and clamps was like nothing she'd experienced before.

Floyd was not even there. When he had awoken after dawn, he'd been frightened by the sight of the hanging woman. She was drenched in sweat, the welts on her back and ass much more prominent than they had looked in the dim light last night. A long stream of cum had leaked out of the corner of her mouth onto a bulging part of her breast, bulging because the rest was so severely indented by the rope. Floyd grabbed some clothes and rushed out of the apartment.

Matt bathed her and applied salves. She slept all morning and drove back in the afternoon. During the drive, she recognized that she was a mother in name only. Actually, she was a hardcore submissive who would do anything to atone for her bad mothering, anything to maintain the love and attention of her demanding son. As his slave, Matthew was entitled to lend her to his mentors and friends, despite their debauched habits, whether or not Matthew was actually present.

When she arrived home, she rested for a couple of days, applying lotions according to a strict schedule Matt had devised. Flowers and a four-figure gift certificate to the town's best department store arrived from Floyd, as well as several new cookbooks. Floyd gave Matt a new bicycle, stereo and MP3 player. Matt and Janice had both learned a harsh lesson and neither of them were angry with Floyd; he'd been drunk and, being a novice, didn't know any better.

Thus began Matt's happy, successful college career and the continuing development of Janice's role. Or, if you prefer, thus continued the debasement of her life into that of a consummate cum-slut and pain-slave. She could barely imagine what she would do next, but she hoped it would be as pleasurable as it was sure to be humiliating and painful.

Chapter Twenty-Four — The Stockbroker

As a single mother, it was always a challenge for Janice to manage her finances. One sacrifice had been her old clothes and lingerie, which Matt was periodically updating with more expensive, revealing clothes and pricey French lingerie.

Janice heard from an acquaintance at work that their mutual stockbroker, Paul Gorgan, was running a hot streak and considered an up-and-comer. But he had too many accounts and couldn't devote more than cursory attention to a typical portfolio. So the acquaintance took Paul out to several of the best restaurants and gave him gifts. Immediately, her trades increased in value and her portfolio appreciated significantly.

Janice couldn't afford expensive dinners or lavish presents, but she could provide other attractions. She discussed the situation with Matt on the phone from college, and they devised a plan. Since Paul's firm opened at 6am, when the NY exchange began, the firm also closed early. By 3pm, virtually everyone had left. So Janice made a late appointment for 3:15. When she arrived, on a blisteringly hot afternoon in early September, the offices seemed to be deserted, and the air conditioning barely working. She knocked on Paul's door, perspiring.

"Come in, Janice." She entered a comfortable office that included a seating area, closing and locking the door behind her. Paul was turned away from her, engrossed in his monitor. "Sorry about the AC. I'll be with you in a moment. I don't mean to be rude, but I have to focus on completing this trade."

"That's fine," she said, and walked over to the sofa. Its base was slanted. When she sat, her rear was lower than her knees. It was uncomfortable, but he would get a good view up her legs. She spread them wide as she'd been trained to do, constrained by the buttons down the front. She studied him in profile. Sandy hair, mid-thirties like she was, a bit overweight but pleasant looking. She picked up a magazine and began reading.

Paul finished his trade and turned to his client, whom he'd never met. Since her face was obscured by the magazine, he observed her gorgeous, tanned long legs in 3-inch heels, as well as the tight, gauzy linen skirt. His cock twitched. All he knew about her was that she wasn't married. "All set," he said cheerfully. Janice lowered the magazine and presented him with her best smile. Paul was struck. She was not only gorgeous, but perhaps the most sensuous woman he'd ever seen. Dark glossy hair in a tomboy cut, big hazel eyes, a wide mouth, thick lips and big tits that strained against the tight linen blouse. She gave him plenty of time to scrutinize.

"Oh, excuse me, Janice, it's just that it's been a long day, especially with the AC barely working." He was blushing. "But I suppose you're used to men staring."

"Yes, but not men as good-looking as you."

"That's kind of you," he stammered, mopping his forehead with a handkerchief. "Unless you think it's unprofessional, I usually relax after normal hours with a drink. Would you care for a gin and tonic?"

"Yes, sounds great." He poured two very stiff drinks and set hers down along with a cocktail napkin on the edge of the coffee table away from her.

"I'll be putting your paperwork right in front of you," he explained. Janice had to lean far forward to reach the glass. As she did so, her spread legs caused more tension on her skirt and a button was pulled through an eyelet, revealing a couple more inches of her magnificent legs. She seemed to be unaware, but Paul saw it clearly. They lifted their glasses and drank. He wondered if she was attracted to him.

She reopened her magazine, hiding her face. He opened her folder and set it down on the coffee table, using the opportunity to glance up the skirt at her patterned stockings, the same shade as her blouse and skirt. He could just barely begin to see the tops. He also realized that he could see her nipples, straining against the tight thin linen that was damp with perspiration. Although the aureole were quite large, they were not the largest he'd seen. But her nipples were. And they were dark, almost black.

Getting harder, he turned his back to her and went to his desk, where he took another swallow. Janice had lowered the magazine and saw him walking stiffly. He sat. "Please, drink up," he said. She felt his eyes on her as she stretched to the glass, another button popping open on the skirt front, and drank deeply.

"I've studied your portfolio and those are some recommendations. The problem is that I've so many clients there's not enough time in the day to devote to them all."

"I understand, Paul, and that's why I'm here to show you that I'm a very special client." Her words hung in the air. He wondered if she might be coming on to him.

"Well, special clients do receive extra time, and they do very well."

"Yes, I've heard about how hot you are." She reached into her purse and pulled out a spray bottle. "Paul, I'm burning up. Would you mind misting me? It works so much better if I don't do it to myself, and if you hold it up." She settled back and closed her eyes.

Awkwardly, he stood, walked over with his drink and cocktail napkin and sat on the coffee table. He held the bottle high and sprayed the fragrant mist downward onto her face. "Ummm," she moaned. Most of the mist actually wafted down onto her chest, dampening the thin blouse. "Do it again." He had an idea. He titled the bottle down and sprayed. This time a little fell onto her face, but most wetted her breasts. "Ummm," she groaned, louder and longer this time. "It's so relaxing here." She stretched her arms up, forcing the dark nipples against the fabric, and moved her arms behind her, which opened yet another skirt button.

Paul could now see the stocking tops, as well as the bare flesh above. He was stunned. The inside of her thighs appeared to be marked with welts, some roughly parallel to each other, some crisscrossed. Had some abusive guy recently hurt her? He figured that with the release of another button, he'd be able to glimpse her panties. Would they be as sheer as the rest of her clothes?

Janice opened her eyes and Paul yanked his eyes back to hers. Her mouth was open slightly. "Do you like what you see?" He nodded and reached for his drink. "Me too," she said. Since her arms were trapped underneath her, he held the cold tumbler to her wide lips. She took too much, choked and some of the gin and tonic dribbled out of her mouth to run down her chest, the iced liquid coursing down to her nipples. They both stared as the dark stalks lengthened. "Would you rub me dry, Paul?"

He picked up the two cocktail napkins and blotted each of them on an aroused nipple. She groaned, "Yeah. Paul, there's only one button left. Open it and make me more comfortable. Fumbling, he pushed the button open and the skirt fell away, baring a gauzy pair of sheer panties that did nothing to hide her pussy. He looked at the fat lips mashed against the taut, restraining fabric. They were glistening with wetness. And she was completely shaved. He finished his drink.

"Who did that to you?"

Janice pushed him back three feet from her. The coffee table moved as well. "You mean my marks?" she asked. "I deserved them," she explained, "for not obeying. They were a lesson in discipline."

"Did your boyfriend make them?" he asked hoarsely as she undid his zipper.

She sank to her knees, reached behind him and pulled him forward by the ass cheeks so his groin was at the edge of the table. "I don't have a boyfriend," she said, "only a master."

"Why did he punish you?" he croaked as she reached into his boxer shorts.

"Because I allowed a few drops of his cum to leak out of my lips." She pulled out an average size cock. It would do fine.

"Can I touch them?"

"You mean my marks? Maybe next time, if you take care of me." And with that she sank her lips over his cockhead like nobody else, beginning the slowest and hottest blowjob he'd ever experienced. Strangely, her thick lips and wide mouth made his cock look larger than it actually was. Two minutes later, as she felt his muscles tensing for his climax, he shoved her head back and held his cock as it spurted, landing first on her forehead, then her chin and chest. She was surprised by his forcefulness but shrugged at the hot load that soiled her blouse. Maybe he actually had the potential to be dominant. She removed a large handkerchief from her bag and blotted off the spunk from her skin and blouse as Paul put himself back together.

"When will I see you again?"

"In three months, assuming you've worked on my portfolio. And if you've done a really good job, I'll even remove my blouse and skirt. You'd like an unobstructed view of my tits and pussy, wouldn't you, Paul? I've already made the appointment with your admin." Smiling, she unlocked the door and sauntered out, without a doubt that Paul would perform handsomely over the next quarter.

This entry concludes Part One: The Black Diary, or Mother's Helper. Part Two, The Good Neighbor Policy and Advances in Education & Religion, begins soon.

In Part Two, a major character (a young female neighbor) is introduced. Subsequently, Janice receives detailed lessons from a number of new older male characters, who are strict authorities in, respectively, the fields of education and religion. We learn the background of Janice's character while a teen at home, at private school and in Sunday school.