My Mother, My Mistress

Ah, the moment of truth, quite literally. I had only just promised my honesty, but I still wanted to conceal my true feelings and walk everything back to the way it was. Recognizing I couldn't do that at this point, I somehow found enough courage and committed to pressing forward. It was finally time to be honest with myself and with Her. Surely my love for Her would win in the end!

"Here goes nothing..." I muttered under my breath.

I paused to gather my thoughts one last time.

"Mom, I... first I should say, I love you... No, I adore you. Ever since we lost dad, it's just been like... I have no interest in others. The cruel women out there... I know I'm safe if I'm with you. I won't be rejected or abandoned. I want to stay with you forever."

I was fully aware how cheesy and awkward I was coming across even in the moment. That wasn't even considering that I had completely trailed off and gone all elliptical on Her. It is hard to be eloquent when your mind is attempting the mental equivalent of the Daytona 500. I swallowed hard, knowing this would be the truly difficult part.

"I... really just want to be useful to you; I want to serve you, but I want to serve you more intimately than I have up till now. Mom, I want to...

"So you want to be like my full time helper? Basically a servant... Is that what you're saying?" She interrupted.

"More than that... I want to be your slave! Like really your slave, as in you own me from now on!"

I shouted the last part and stopped there shamefully fearing Her response. I felt entirely justified in my fear. After all, what I had just said was quite the leap of logic for your average person. I literally just came out and admitted to my fetish for feeling servile, which would be awkward enough under any circumstance. Adding in my own Mother as the object of my slavish affections... Who would accept such a thing?

Nevertheless, She glossed over my declaration like it had been a completely reasonable and natural thing to say. Having now heard what I wanted to do, She followed up by reiterating Her second question,

"And what am I to do?" She questioned, staring at me with what seemed to be a hint of excitement or passion.

"I want you to be my Mistress. To force me to serve you in ways that challenge me and make me fully aware of my position beneath you. I want to worship you! Please allow me to treat you the way a Goddess deserves to be treated. Use me any way you like! Make me do all manner of things for you. Treat me like a 'real slave' from now on. Refer to me as your slave, punish me as a slave should be punished, dominate me, even make me engage in taboos. I want to be yours forever, Mistress!"

I had expected some kind of shock when I referred to Her as my Mistress so suddenly, but She merely responded to my deluge of feelings with a mildly surprised look,

"I will admit your passion is very real. I am sure you realize that it may take me a little while to get used to acting 'that way' toward you, but if that's what you want..."

"Yes!!! Please, Mistress!" I interjected.

"Haha," She chuckled lightly. I didn't notice that She had become a little misty eyed, and there was no way that I could have realized at the time that She was mentally comparing me to my late father.

"I guess it will be kind of nice having my own personal slave aaag-..." She said with a playful smile having just barely managed to cut off the word that I would later deduce to have been "again."

Having completely overlooked Her near lapsus linguae in my strained emotional state, I smiled back at Her full of relief. After a little more chitchat She stretched, yawning out the words,

"Okay, it's late. Time for this 'Mistress' to get some sleep. Good night, slave." She said hardly holding in Her laughter.

"Goodnight, Mistress." I said wearily heading off to bed while praying that it hadn't all been a dream.

It was only much later that I would come to realize that there was no way my heartfelt pleas to serve Her could have possibly convinced Her on their own. Unbeknownst to me, She was already what most people would erroneously consider a sexual deviant from times before I was even born. (The unenlightened often misinterpret those who are ahead of their time) I didn't convince Her or change Her at all as I so arrogantly thought in the beginning. I simply enabled Her to act on impulses She had always wanted to in secret.

Interlude 1: A Matron's Thoughts

I have composed the following by referring to a verbal account given by my Mistress at a later date. Please note that the following record may not be entirely accurate as to what occurred at the time.

Mistress Camilla was standing by the nightstand in the master bedroom when She glanced over at a picture covered in a thin layer of dust. She gently picked it up and wiped it clean. In the middle of this process She began to think to Herself with a wry smile,

"Hahaha, honestly he's turning out just like you. I thought we were pretty careful when he was little, but maybe he caught us messing around a couple of times. Oh, Cliff, if you could see your son now. That earnest face he made while pouring out his heart to me really took me back. I had to fight the urge to cry and laugh at the same time... boy, what a mess. Then again, I have been struggling to find someone who lives up to the excellent standards you set; it stands to reason that he, being your son, has a better chance than most at filling your shoes I suppose."

She paused for a moment to give a gentle but somber laugh.

"I bet you're laughing from the grave too, huh? You of all people would know that I am more than willing to take him up on his offer. In all seriousness, I'd really rather it be anyone but him... but I need it, Cliff. I need what we had back in my life; if I have to get it from my own son, I'll do it. Besides.. he wants this too. It will be a great arrangement for the both of us... assuming he knows what he's getting into and can handle it. I promise I will go easy on him at first."

She followed this line of thinking as if trying to convince Herself that what She was saying was true.

"At least I can take comfort knowing you'd support me in this anyway. Hell, you would support me in literally anything just like Jonathan will soon enough. You never could tell me no, could you?

With sleep heavy in Her eyes and Her energy quickly fading, She sighed,

"Watch over us, okay?"

Mistress Camilla returned the picture to its original resting place to again assume its silent vigil. With the slightest hint of tears in Her weary eyes She turned out the lights and slipped into bed.

Part 2: Testing the Waters

I remember waking up the next morning wondering if it really had all been a dream. Fortunately, my doubts were thoroughly dashed when my new Mistress greeted me from the dining room table with a taunting,

"Good morning, slave!"

"Good morning, Mistress." I responded with a slight tone of disbelief.

I was sad to see that She had made breakfast Herself instead of making me do it. She could apparently read the disappointment on my face because Her next words were,

"Don't worry. I'm just taking it easy on you for your first day on the job. I have plenty of other tasks for you today, so you'd better hop to it!" She winked as She said the last part.

At first She was simply testing my resolve. These first few days consisted of the typical menial labor I was accustomed to doing. She made me clean the bathroom floors, do all the dishes, do yard work, and things of that nature. The only new task that excited me greatly was having to hand-wash Her underwear for the first time. "She is a Goddess..." I thought to myself. The scent was truly divine.

There were some minor stains on many of Her older articles of underwear. Her collection ranged from comparatively large pieces to microthongs that I never knew She owned. Washing Her newer clothes was never as fun as fooling around with the well-worn ones.

She must have realized after a few days of this that I was still not satisfied. The tasks not only ramped up in difficulty, but She added a layer of humiliation as well. Now I was forced to work only wearing underwear. This didn't last long; after a short time She became even bolder.

She said on one chilly morning in late November,

"Alright, slave, time for you to get to work!"

I obeyed with a submissive "Yes, Mistress" but She stopped me saying,

"Ah, but you see... today is going to be a little different. I have something 'exciting' in mind for you. Want to know what it is?"

I patiently waited for Her to continue nodding in assent to Her question.

"From today onward, the slaves in this household are not allowed to wear anything! Not a single thing, got it?"

I couldn't hide my mixture of shame and excitement as She urged me to take off my last article of clothing and reveal myself to Her fully. I then briefly thought about the fact that She had said "slaves" in the plural. Was She perhaps planning on bringing someone else into our household, or was She perhaps just trying to tease me and get me all riled up.

"O-of course, Mistress." I finally managed to stammer.

In response to my hesitation She quipped,

"Just remember, slave, you came from me, so it's nothing I haven't seen before anyway. This is your natural state while in my presence. You'd best get used to it."

Something in my head clicked when She said this. I couldn't quite put my finger on it at the time, but a change most definitely occurred at this moment. I was too embarrassed and aroused to ponder it further.

As I was set to work in this new set of circumstances I couldn't help but touch my penis as I held Her panties to my nose. Eventually She caught me doing so. She was furious.

"What are you doing with my underwear, you filthy slave!? I can't even trust you to do your job properly without wasting time stroking your pathetic little cock? Is this the kind of slave you're going to be? If so, I don't want you!"

I fell to my knees in supplication before Her, "Please forgive your worthless slave, Mistress! I promise it will never happen again!"

"Don't you dare forget your place. You are here to serve ME, not please yourself. I'll see to it that this never happens again!"

My Mistress proceeded to mercilessly paddle me over Her knee for the remainder of the evening. It hurt so badly that I couldn't even get hard from it. I had never been so terrified. I honestly never would have done it again if She had simply left it at that, but my Mistress has never been one to do things by halves.

Within 3 days time, a small brown box with no indication as to what was inside showed up at the door. She had me fetch it and open it as She watched from the side.

Inside the discreet box was a metallic male chastity device. I was surprised by how small it was and then sulkily thought to myself that it would probably fit me just fine. It was basically a slab of vaguely penis shaped metal that would obviously restrict my ability to touch myself at all. It worked by slipping the wearer's testicles through a tight metal ring onto which the penis shaped cage attached and could be locked.

Fortunately there was a little hole at the tip which would allow me to urinate while wearing it, and it is a good thing too. Before I even had a chance to use the bathroom or prepare myself, my Mistress reached for my balls and forced them through the ring. She then skillfully slipped it over my penis which was in the process of becoming erect at Her touch. I figured She would wait until I had become flaccid enough to slip it on without resistance, but there was apparently no need to wait.

My Mistress managed to force the cage into place and lock it using a small golden padlock. It kind of hurt! The way she had accomplished the task of setting everything in its proper place first try despite my penis in its nearly erect state being slightly too big for the cage amazed me. She achieved this way too naturally for it to have been Her first time.

She then showed me the key to the lock and proceeded to fasten it to a small anklet that She was wearing around Her right ankle. Looking back now, it has been a very rare occasion for Her to take it off aside from the occasional supervised cleaning and maintenance of my device.

We were now a little over a month into my slave training, and I was in the process of getting used to being locked in my chastity cage. I still involuntarily got erect at the very idea of my penis being locked up and possessed by my own Mother. My penis struggled in vain to press against the harsh and cold metal. I delighted in the pain and struggle.

Meanwhile, my Mistress had taken to Her new role well. She had purchased a collar and leash for me along with a whip (using what would have been considered my money prior to my enslavement). I think She was impressed that no matter how far She seemed to go, I never seemed to think it was far enough.

She started dressing more as a dominatrix than a standard housewife while at home; She traded out Her motherly long skirts of various colors for lacy leggings and leather miniskirts. Her conservative sweaters and long sleeved blouses became tight corsets which pushed up on and accentuated Her already conspicuous breasts. The overall color scheme of Her wardrobe skewed toward flattering blacks and bold reds or pure whites.

This afforded me glances at Her beautiful body as I had never seen it before. I did wonder where She had gotten these clothes. They didn't look new by any means, and I hadn't seen Her go shopping or order anything online other than my new collar and Her whip. I would have lost my mind if I had known She used to wear them for my father. As an aside, the whip wasn't all that scary. It was clearly more of a fetish thing one might find in an overly sexualized Halloween costume intended for adult play.

The body worship started about 2 months in. I began exclusively with Her feet. I loved it. (and still do!) The softness, the smell, the red nails... It was now my job to paint them for Her. I would spend at least half an hour each day worshiping (that is licking, kissing, massaging, sucking the toes) my Mother, no, my Mistress's feet. I would also spend every evening on all fours as Her personal foot stool as She watched TV; it is not lost on me that this is basically a new sexual spin on what I innocently did as a child.

Her feet were like my raison d'etre. My Mistress's feet may have conformed to the national American average in terms of size, but to me they were anything but average. They had distinguished signs of maturity that one can't find on a younger woman's feet. Wrinkles of various depths and breadths curved their way along Her soft and healthy soles.

Their smell was the telltale scent of genuine leather which had been gleaned from her gladiator style sandals earlier in the day. My nose detected just a hint of sweat wafting from the spaces between her toes as I discerned the slightest vestiges of tanlines left by Her strappy sandals. I quickly took care of any grime from the day with my deft tongue.

Watching me from on high, She looked majestic in Her provocative outfits holding my leash and Her whip as I kneeled before Her glorious feet naked except for my perpetual companion the tight chastity cage. I was often whipped when touching Her feet in an at all undesirable manner. I remember the first time. It was phenomenal.

She cracked the whip and said,

"Why is your head so high? A slave ought to humble himself before his Mistress. Head down and on your knees, slave! Now that you've assumed the proper position you may begin to worship my glorious feet! Never forget that it is a privilege for a wretch like you to serve one such as me."

I wholeheartedly agreed in my mind and savored every moment while listening intently for Her specific commands.

"Make sure you suck every toe. Every part of me, big or small, they all deserve your adoration."

"Now, trace your tongue down from my toes across the arch. Then you are going to suck any traces of dead skin off my heels. Make sure you swallow it all properly and don't allow any of it to go to waste. This is the only supper you're getting tonight."

When I would take a moment to remove my tongue from Her well-shaped arches in order to lick my lips and prevent them from drying out She would chastise me,

"I didn't tell you to stop, slave!"

It seemed She was looking for any opportunity to punish me. I would feel the bite of Her whip across my bare back as I resumed the blissful affair. After fully relaxing for around an hour during Her luxurious foot bath, She finally became sleepy. She kicked my face which was still licking Her feet away saying,

"I guess you did okay tonight... I'm going to bed, but as a reward for your good service, I have decided to allow you to clean my shoe collection tonight. When I wake up I plan to inspect each and every one of them before I eat the luxurious breakfast that you are going to have prepared for me. They had better be spotless inside and out! Also, being but a humble slave, you may thank me for stipulating that you are only allowed to use your tongue. Do I make myself clear?

I immediately responded with a standard, "Yes, Mistress" and expressed my heartfelt gratitude before excitedly getting to work licking every shoe. I loved every aspect of the procedure, but I especially got excited by licking the imprints that Her toes left on Her various sandals. I only wished I could cum into her shoes and lick them clean again.

She had promised to let me out of my cage and sound my urethra with one of Her pairs of heels while She was still wearing them if I did a good job for Her. It sounded painful, and I of course wouldn't be allowed to cum. Still, I love any excuse to get my Mistress to pay attention to me and touch my penis; it would just be nice to have an unimpeded erection again for the first time in a while. At the end of the day, I reminded myself that the weirder or more disgusting a sexual act is, the better! Even (or maybe I should say especially) if that act involves my Mistress forcing Her heels down my dickhole.

(P.S. There was more bleeding than I had expected, but I still loved it.)

I could honestly go on forever about my Mistress's beautiful feet and how I cleaned her entire shoe collection at least once a month using only my tongue, but I feel that would not be doing the rest of Her perfect body justice! It soon became clear that it would be a while before this probationary period would end. Still, it would end eventually, and in the not too distant future, we would pass the point of no return in the coming year.

Interlude 2: Out and About

It was, however, during this probationary time that my Mistress began to subtly make our new relationship evident outside of our home. She had already begun to dress significantly more provocatively when going out compared to Her previously quite tame wardrobe.

She wasn't going out in full fetish wear or anything, but during the winter my eyes were blessed by the sight of various appealing sets of leggings that screamed mature domme. During the summer, Her skirts became noticeably shorter while Her blouses became tantalizingly tighter and more revealing. She maintained Her habit of wearing strappy footwear from Her sparkling clean collection of gladiators to flip flops depending on the occasion.

Meanwhile, I was, of course, wearing my chastity device under my clothes. Other than that, I was pretty much allowed to wear whatever I wanted. I tended to stick to decently nice button up shirts with slacks of matching colors. I certainly didn't want to look like a bum escorting my Mistress, but I also didn't want to be overly conspicuous. We drew enough attention as we were; after all, it isn't every day one sees a woman in her 40s dressed in the type of clothing my Mistress was wearing escorted by a recently turned 19 year old.