Mummie's Cruise

[Everyone in this story is over twenty-five years old]

***

Robertson Russell waved at his annoyed fiancée down on the dock.

"Robbie, only fags go on cruises with their moms" Bonita had said crisply.

Silly girl. Though Robertson had been a little faggy for his Mummie from time to time.

What cute heels Bonita had! Mummie had a pair about an inch higher...she had ground Bobbie's Bad Thing into the hardwood floor on more than one occasion for illicit onanism.

And then a few more times, she'd tied Bobbie to the bed, and put her cutting board under his Bad Thing (and his Raisins).

He'd begged Mummie to let him off, but she'd taken her one of her beautiful black sequined Peep Toe platform high heel by the nose.

Oh then she lifted it! and used the steel heel to pound Bobbie's Bermuda Triangle into such a stinging, welted mini-hell!

And unfortunately, it didn't cure Bobbie of wanting to play with his Bad thing, the punishment just made him want to play with it some more...and confess.

Dr. Compton had used extensive hypnosis and hours of analysis to cure Bobbie of his odd relationship with Mummie...but true pleasure knew no holding back.

As Robertson Russell walked away from his view of the gangplank, he saw a couple of crop-topped cuties laughing and oh, how his Bad Thing surged.

And oh, the STINGING!

He had been scheduled for playtime with his Bad Thing, after many months, but a week before, something had occurred.

Bobbie had cleaned the kitchen as he did every morning before breakfast.

Then, dressing for work, Mummie had called to him. Bobbie had been in such a good mood, he was going to get to Toy With Himself that night.

"Bobbie, why didn't you clean the kitchen as Mummie asked you to?"

After he'd tearfully put his clothes back on, edging his pants over the bruises left by Mummie's South African Police Baton, Bobbie tiptoed into the kitchen.

The entire kitchen was spotless. The sink, which Mummie had said was a "disgrace" was sparkling.

"Mummie, what's wrong with the kitchen? You gave me such an awful-"

Mummie at this point was enjoying her cup of chamomile tea that Bobbie had brewed. "What's that dear? I didn't like the job you did."

"Buh-where's the mess?"

"Do we have a problem, Robertson?" Mummie's eyes were steel glints.

As he'd left for work, Bobbie had heard Mummie's low chuckle.

This had happened once before. Bobbie had cleaned the kitchen, and Mummie had then dropped a lipstick-stained Kleenex into the sink afterwards, and punished him for it.

Once or twice she'd kicked over a wastebasket after he'd done such a good job, and out would come the strap and down with his pants.

But the worst part had been when Bobbie had returned from work and Mummie had informed him that because of his "attitude" problem concerning the kitchen, she was extending his chastity time-again!

Mummie had milked Bobbie from behind as he'd perched naked on the dining room table on all fours. She'd then asked him to lick up his mess, and Bobbie had shrank back-

After all, he always licked up his squirt after he'd cum, he could understand the chore, but with no cumming?

And Mummie had then brought out Bobbie's fraternity paddle and reddened his bottom once more, and Bobbie had wept but licked up the little white puddle obediently.

So now it had been a long, looong time since Bobbie had had his release, and he could only hope Mummie would give him one during their cruise.

After all, he was treating her to this glorious vacation, right?

**************************************

Mummie had told Robertson to meet her in the stateroom. She was resplendent in long white gloves and a diaphanous evening gown...black with sparkles.

Mummie loved sparkles! She had been Buttermilk Falls's most popular debutante thirty-five years ago, and had ridden a float on the Rose Bowl parade, Homecoming Queen, all that fun stuff.

But all that matters is that my son loves me!

Mummie was wildly popular with old and young men, and many had showed up to wish her farewell. Robertson had wanted to kick one upstart's ass for his attentions.

But Robertson would probably just get even by doing a corporate raid on the impudent puppy's company after the vacation was over.

Mummie combed out her long blonde hair, and put it up in a nice chignon. Usually she let Bobbie do it, but he'd been so distant and caught up with his silly business things. And of course, his attentions to Bonita.

Mummie wondered how it was going, his farewell to Bonita.

Bonita must have been so mystified, A few months into their steamy relationship Bobbie had announced that he wanted to hold off on more sex until they married.

Bonita was hot stuff, and she was happy that she was snagging the rich Russell heir. But why was he getting so moral?

But of course, Bobbie had approached Mummie some eighteen months ago, and told her that he was too focused on his lovely fiancée, and was also getting very porn-oriented.

"Would you put the little cage on my Bad Thing again, Mummie?"

Mummie had predicted this, even though Bobbie had had a longer run out of the chastity cage than she would have predicted.

"Are you sure, Bobbie? Didn't your therapist say you needed your ah, how did he put it-sexual freedom?"

But of course Mummie had relented, and locked her boy back up again.

But since then, it had grown very tense with Bonita, as of course Bobbie couldn't disrobe in front of her at all. On the other hand, his frustration had gotten him to move their wedding day up.

With two failed marriages to unsuccessful men in her past, Bonita was eager to close in on this ah, merger, as she had failed out of Nail Technician School AND Bartender's Academy.

Mummie wasn't so sure this wedding should come off, but should a mother interfere?

There was a tap on the cabin door, and Mummie called "Come in, my darling son."

Bobbie came in, smiling. Look at him, all tanned in his nice Brooks Brothers twill suit.

Bobbie had been in several regattas that summer and was just bronze! He'd won his share, and Mummie had not permitted Bobbie to attend the parties afterwards, but after all, there was silver to polish, right?

"Did you say goodbye to your little friend, dear?"

Mummie had only permitted Bobbie to have one chaste dinner with Bonita per week, on Mummie's bridge night, and then they were allowed to go to the park on Saturday afternoons for about ninety minutes.

This possibly was why Bobbie had been so enthusiastic on the dock.

"Yes Mummie. I saw Bonita, who you know is my fiancée. I'll miss her on the cruise, but I agree you and I need time together before the wedding."

Bobbie looked around the stateroom.

"Did you get everything you want, Mummie? I can get the purser fired if you're not-"

Mummie smiled and breathed deeply, enhancing her cleavage.

Bobbie of course gaped, as he always did.

She smiled at her devoted son. Mummie folded her gloved hands demurely.

"Bobbie stop being such an officious bossy boy. You know masculine posturing doesn't really suit you."

Bobbie flushed.

"If you begin ordering people around, being rude to servants which is bad form, you might find yourself sucking the purser's bad thing."

"Oh, Mummie no-"

"Remember when you were curt to the stable groom at the dude ranch? I felt so badly-"

"Oh don't-"

"Borrowing his crop and then having you give him a nice wet one. And then you cried, and explained to him that you weren't really homosexual."

Bobbie stared at the floor. He loved playing the masculine "fella" but Mummie sometimes had to take the wind out of his sails a bit.

Right before their going-away party yesterday , when Bobbie had come early with refreshments, Mummie had insisted on giving him a quick Fleet enema, very cold.

Perhaps Bobbie was getting a little shy of Mummie?

"Don't be upset, baby" Mummie crooned "Does your bad thing hurt? Does the cage pinch your wee wee a wee bit?"

"Th-the cage is awful tight, Mummie."

"I ordered a tighter one this time, because I want you to stop staring at the college girls. How would Bonita feel? She's a bit of a bitch, you know."

"Mummie-"

"I'm not telling you who to marry, but we must nip the wandering gaze in the bud. There are a lot of little chippies on this boat, and you should maintain custody of the eyes as Father O'Rourke says."

"Y-yes ma'am." Bobbie responded. "But-but even when I get a little excited it hurts so much."

"A little excited?"

"When you made me take down my pants for the enema yesterday and I looked at your-"

Mummie's hand cracked across Bobbie's jaw. "Outrageous! Looking at your own mother! Aroused by-"

"But you took off your shirt and you were in your frilly brassiere."

"I can't believe that you are accusing-Bobbie I didn't want my blouse to get wet, and after all, we know each other so well."

This wasn't really true. Bobbie had been naked quite a bit in front of Mummie, but she had never disrobed for him.

Mummie did wear a lot of tight sweaters and plunging necklines, but this had been the first time Bobbie had seen her in her brassiere.

But with all this in mind, Mummie had to keep order with her sick boy.

"My breasts, you little pervert. Just like your father; you're an animal. I should cut your Raisins off."

"Mummie please-"

"So you got excited when I gave you your enema?"

"Yes, Mummie. It was just a little bit hard and the pain was so bad, Mummie. Couldn't I have just a little bigger cage?"

Mummie held back a smile.

"So you can stare at the woman who gave birth to you like a drooling psychopath? Certainly not."

But then Mummie recovered herself. "We can talk about a bigger chastity cage when we return from the Caribbean, but it would be pointless, as I'm taking you out of the cage completely then."

"What?" Bobbie was alarmed.

"Well yes, snicker-doodle. Mummie is handing her snookums over to Slut-let-"

"Mummie!"

"I'm sorry, Bonita. Yes. I am sure now that you've learned to control your hormones you will be a manly boy and Bonita will just worship you."

"It's a little soon-"

"No, you want to get married, and have a worshipful spouse, don't you?"

Bobbie's face grew uncomfortable. His double chin wiggled a bit. Was he having mixed feelings about his wedding to that nasty girl?

Bobbie was thirty-one now, and it was time for him to settle down. Bonita's father was a rather prosperous owner of many Roto-Rooter franchises, and that would be a nice thing to add to Bobbie's growing capital.

But on the other hand, Mummie would miss giving Bobbie his lessons in decorum, his corrections. The boy was maturing slowly, VERY slowly. And so he still needed a bit of a rigorous upbringing.

"Does it hurt that much, your cage, darling?" Mummie asked again, soothingly. "Come let Mummie see."

Bobbie was eager, Mummie could be so tender. But he approached her hesitantly, as you never knew what mood might overtake her. Mummie's mood could change on a dime.

Mummie took off her long white gloves slowly and waved her amber nails at Bobbie's crotch. Reaching over, Mummie undid Bobbie's trousers and they came down rapidly.

Briskly, Mummie tied Bobbie's shirt-tail in a little knot over his belly. Just above the navel, like those white-trash girls have it.

It had been a long time since Mummie had made Bobbie into "Roberta" and they'd gone out as girlfriends!

Now she was looking at Bobbie's caged Bad Thing, which was wiggling around behind the bars. (Bobbie's Bad Thing tended to flutter when Mummie was around.)

Yes, his excited Baddie was covered in little red dots.

Mummie had not mentioned this to Bobbie, but she had asked the nice man who made the cage custom, to put a few little tiny needles inside, just to make Bobbie look alive.

Nothing seemed to take the edge off the boy's satyr-istic activities, though.

Bobbie had only been out of the cage twice since Mummie had locked it on a year ago. Just for a quick rubbie for Christmas and his birthday.

Then last week, he was scheduled for another pud-pounding, but there had been the disrespect over his kitchen chores, which Mummie found still to be a little hilarious.

So now it had been five months since Bobbie's bad thing had been free!

All that time, all the semen storing up in Bobbie's Raisins.

Now Mummie rubbed her soft fingers against the bars of his caged Bad Thing.

Baddie could tell Mummie was visiting, and swelled through the little bars admirably. Mummie smiled inwardly as she heard her son gasp from the little needle pains.

But he was so excited!

Look at Bobbie, breathing through his nose and fighting to keep his hands behind his back.

"I might go to the captain's table alone tonight, dear." Mummie mused, as she tickled Baddie just under his swelling head.

Look at how it pulses out of the cage. Could it break the bars? Mummie wondered.

"But-but I wanted to go with you, the Captain is an old fraternity-oogh!"

"Sorry darling, I shouldn't have pinched you. You are SO sensitive down there." Mummie smiled. "Light my cigarette dear?"

As Bobbie stood, naked from waist to ankles, he obediently found a Virginia Slim in Mummie's purse, and stuck it in her plastic holder, and lit it.

Mummie took it from him with one hand, puffed on the cigarette showily, and blew a smoke ring.

"As I said, you could use a good night's sleep-"

"Mummie, I want to see my friend Colby the captain-Ow!"

"Oh did I burn wee-wee with my ciggie-butt? You interrupt so much, Bobbie. It's irritating to Mummie."

"But Mummie I want to go out! I'm thirty-one-Oww!"

"Oh, I did it again. Keep your hands behind your back, sweet."

Bobbie bit his lip. Mummie was holding the caged Bad Thing with one hand and pressing the lit Virginia Slim into his foreskin with the other.

Just before Bobbie passed out, the cancer stick extinguished itself.

"Yes" Mummie said offhandedly.

"I think I'll put you in Depends tonight and let you stay in. It's not very appealing to have to listen to you exchange ribald stories with the captain, especially as most of yours are false."

"No, you were a fraternity member, because your father and grandfather were Delta whatcha call its, but you didn't have much of a night life."

"No ma'am, that's right."

"Staying at home all the way through your M.B.A. with the eight p.m. bed time, so why lie to your old friend the captain, eh, Bobbie?"

Unbelievably, Bobbie's Bad Thing, so recently singed, was growing erect again.

"Mummie, you PLEASE take the cage off my Bad Thing?"

"No, of course not." Mummie meant to be curt, but couldn't help laughing again.

"I didn't bring the keys to the cage with me. I thought this would be a nice chaste trip. "

Bobbie sighed miserably.

"Perhaps if you hadn't been madly kissing Bonita on the dock-"

Bobbie's Bad Thing swelled, recalling Bonita's fragrance.

"She was practically sucking your face-"

Bobbie felt the surge of the needles against his member.

" I can still see her lip gloss all over your collar. It's quite revolting."

Mummie ran her forefinger into the cage a bit.

"If you hadn't rubbed against that slut's humongous chest, those hard nipples of hers-"

Bobbie couldn't stand it

"You might not be so distracted now." As Mummie spoke, she stroked harder with the forefinger making Bobbie's Baddie almost explode in the cage.

Shame it had his wee-wee all locked. Mummie was so tempted to push her manicured nail into the urethra. She used to do that to Bobbie's Daddy, just tie him down and run it in and out.

Bobbie's Daddy had had a nervous breakdown some time back, and was in a sanitarium, but sometimes Mummie visited, requesting a straitjacket on Robertson, Sr, when visiting him alone in his padded room.

Get those hands out of the way, and who knew what you could do?

Like father, like son.

He was so excited now, Bobbie. She wondered if she could make the Bad Thing explode in the cage?

"That disgusting blouse Bonita was wearing, her breasts shouldn't be out like that, although perhaps Mummie preaches from a glass house?"

"Wh-what?"

"As the Bard opines, Bobbie, "We often criticize others for what we perceive in ourselves."

Mummie pulled Bobbie's caged Bad thing in between her cleavage, pushing the soft mammaries as they heaved in the top of the evening gown, and Bobbie gasped.

He was so undisciplined, that boy. Ah, for the days before the Change, when I could order him to suck my tampons dry.

Bobbie was in ecstasy and also quite a bit of misery.

His Bad Thing had never been so close to Mummie's bosom!

"We can only hope you learn a bit on this vacation, Bobbie."

Mummie blew cool air on the top of Bobbie's Bad Thing, amicably trapped between her pert breasts.

"I hope you will be a good boy and make me proud. Remember when we summered in Berlin and you had a fit because I wouldn't let you sample the beer-it was Dortmund or something-and I had to pay those skinhead boys to give you a little sodomy?

"Yes ma'am." Now Bobbie was losing his erection just a bit.

Bobbie could feel the soft skin of Mummie's cleavage pushing against the skin of his Bad Thing more and more, and he was swelling so painfully.

Could he rupture?

"It's Holloway Sims, Mrs. Russell? The cruise director?"

Mummie's voice floated up. "Oh, do come in."

Bobbie attempted to frantically pull up his pants, but Mummie yanked them all the way down and squeezed Bobbie's Raisins to keep him a bit in line.

Such an impudent, impulsive boy.

The door opened, and a sweet, vacant eyed blonde girl wandered in, smiling.

"Holly, darling, this is my bad boy, Bobbie"

"Oh, wow, did I interrupt-"

"No, not at all. Bobbie, give Holly a nice tip, a portrait of Dr. Franklin will do."

"Not a pic of Mr. Jefferson?"

"Don't be cheap, darling, it's what I despised in your father."

Bobbie leaned down and took his wallet out of his pants, now gathered around his ankles (and staying there; Mummie had her foot on them) and gave Holly a hundred dollar bill.

Holly snatched it up, looking doubtfully at her benefactor's caged shame.

"I was coming to tell you about our Conga dancing tonight, and there might be some stand-up comedy."

"I am sure it's blue humor, and not fit for my son's ears."

Mummie let go of Bobbie's Bad Thing. "Holly as you can see, this bad boy doesn't deserve to go out and conga dance, either. Although he'd be so cute. Bobbie, take off your clothes."

Three minutes later, Bobbie was kneeling naked in front of the two women and Holly was sitting next to Mummie, enjoying a bit of Chardonnay.

Just before he was put to bed at six pm, Bobbie shot Bonita an e-mail from his phone. He told her that much as he'd enjoyed their time together, it just wasn't right to be engaged.

"I knew he was some kind of fag." Bonita said to her on-the-side guy, a malcontent bike courier called Tamerlane.