My Mother, My Mistress

Still, this didn't seem to bother my Mistress in the slightest. She insisted that we go out frequently. I theorized that She liked the attention we got from the stares of those around us wondering about our relationship. It was not uncommon for people to mistake us for a couple out on a date.

It wasn't that farfetched if people assumed I was in my late 20s and then assumed that my Mistress was only in Her mid to late 30s. She definitely looked good enough for people to make that mistake! I chalked it up being hard to determine someone's age accurately at a glance and to age gaps of 6 to 10 years not being completely unheard of in cases of incredibly wealthy older men dating younger women and such.

In any event, my Mistress became ecstatic whenever it happened. She lived for moments such as these when She could proudly deny that we were dating and follow up with me being Her son instead. The very idea that people could come to that mistaken conclusion must have made Her feel younger and therefore attractive inside. She would always follow Her declaration that I was Her son with a statement intended to belittle me or make me come across as subservient with enough ambiguity to still seem innocuous within the context of society at large.

To give an example, if we were out shopping, my Mistress would say lines such as, "Oh goodness no! This is my son, and he's just here to carry my bags for me and treat me by footing all the bills today!" To anyone else this seemed like an example of a son demonstrating filial piety and treating his Mom to a one-off shopping spree as a sign of his appreciation.

In reality this was intended to be a sort of tease or reminder from a Mistress to Her slave in a seemingly harmless way that could only be picked up on by those with insider knowledge of our relationship. It worked on me every time... the way She would emphasize that I was only there to serve Her and pay drove me wild inside.

As exciting as I found Her teasing, there was always a tinge of pain when She denied our being a couple. I thought of us as a couple in a sense, and to a certain degree I wanted to be seen as Her lover. However, at the end of the day I knew it wasn't true. Simply put, it would have been lying to say that I was Her boyfriend, for it wasn't the case from Her perspective. My Mistress wasn't lying by any means when She gleefully informed those who asked that I was Her son, but that doesn't mean that She was telling the full truth.

She and I both knew that society at large wouldn't accept the truth; that I wasn't Her boyfriend, and while I was definitely Her son, that qualification didn't really matter at all to Her beyond giving Her a moment of pleasure when seeing the shock value on the faces of those who had inquired. The truth was that from Her perspective She had fully internalized the idea that I was Her slave and She was my Mistress. The joy from discerning the hidden meaning in Her statements always surpassed that hint of pain by orders of magnitude. I was the one who wanted this from the beginning!

Interlude 3: At the Fair

Every August a fair comes to one of the parks nearby. There are all sorts of attractions from a petting zoo, miniature roller coasters for small children, a ferris wheel, etc... We were now nearly a year into our new lives as Mistress and slave and had both comfortably settled into our new roles. Acting as Her slave had almost always felt borderline natural to me, and it had become sufficiently clear that I was serious about serving Her forever.

As for my Mistress, any inhibitions (to be honest it is unclear if She ever truly had any) had gone by the wayside long ago. At this point She still hadn't done anything drastic and our relationship progressed much as it had for the past 9 to 10 months. I was still only allowed to worship Her feet; the biggest development was that She had allowed me to do so while She was fully nude on a handful of occasions. I remember feeling surprised to learn that She preferred to keep some well kempt pubic hair.

It was during one of these sessions of worship that She informed that we would be visiting the fair. I had never really cared much for the fair personally, but I obviously couldn't refuse my Mistress... let alone on grounds of ambivalence. I would soon come to love visiting the fair annually as a tradition of sorts for a reason that has little to do with the fair itself and more about the events that occurred during our visit. The fair has become a holy site to which I pay pilgrimage every year with my Mistress. Allow me to explain our trip to the fair in greater detail.

Upon our arrival at a parking garage located near the park, I proceeded to exit our 2012 Nissan Sentra and ran over to the passenger side of the car to open the door for my Mistress. I briefly looked around to see if there was anyone nearby and upon seeing no one within viewing distance, I proceeded to open the door. One would then expect me to extend my hand and help my Mistress out of the car. I did not do that. Instead I got down onto the ground lying face up as low as I possibly could to serve as a stepping stool for my Mistress as she exited the vehicle.

Honestly, this was not at all pragmatic. In an already fairly low to the ground car, stepping onto my chest wouldn't do much good and may have even made it more difficult for Her. If the intent had been to help Her out of the car, taking Her hand would have been much more efficient and helpful. Efficiency wasn't the point. The gesture was almost entirely symbolic and served to reinforce my inferiority to Her.

As an added bonus, as She stepped on top of me and stood for a moment before stepping off, I was graced with a view directly up Her (by most standards entirely too short) miniskirt. I immediately noticed that She was not sporting Her often worn black microthong today. In fact, She was not wearing panties at all. This was a new development; at least I had never caught Her not wearing panties in public.

Regaining my composure after the sudden shock of seeing my Mistress's divine genitalia in public, I quickly got up and grabbed Her bag from its spot in the back seat of the car. I had become solely responsible for carrying all of Her items. She would say a single word to indicate that She wanted something. For example, She would say, "Phone." and I would quickly grab Her phone from out of Her bag and hand it to Her. When She was done She would simply hand it back for me to return to its proper place.

This is a bit of an aside, but by this point I was responsible for organizing Her belongings in such a way that I could find every item in a timely manner. Incidentally, if I lost an item or even took a "bit too long" to find an item (from Her subjective viewpoint) I would be punished later to varying degrees depending on the severity of the infraction. I don't mean the playful kind of "oh, yes, please punish me Mistress" fun stuff either. I am talking legitimate corporal punishment with no room for unintended pleasure.

For infractions deemed less serious She would let me off with a few lashes with a whip. This is not the whip used for what could be considered a type of play that She had grown so fond of. She would legitimately flog me with what I can only think to differentiate by calling a "real whip" like one would see or imagine used in legal slavery over a century ago.

For very serious mistakes such as losing a treasured item or, to cite an example that I actually experienced, "violating Her privacy" by opening Her phone to save Her time before handing it to Her (a mistake I only made once) in addition to the brutal flogging, She would kick my balls without restraint until I was crying so hard that I passed out.

She said that She would have done even more if I had opened Her phone maliciously intending to spy on Her messages and the like, but instead let me off "easy" since I did it with Her benefit in mind. The scars left by the whip are the only reminders I need to keep me in line. This is all to say, I genuinely fear Her punishments and do my utmost to avoid them.

Returning now to the fair, having grabbed Her bag I followed after Her. When we arrived at the entrance a man asked, "How many?"

"2 please." My Mistress responded,

"Sure thing. That'll be 20 dollars total for 2 adults. You two a couple? The man asked halfheartedly feigning interest.

"Of sorts... well something like that anyway." My Mistress chuckled.

I was shocked yet again. I had expected the whole spiel that I had grown accustomed to hearing about me being Her son and the like. The evasive way She answered and didn't even bother belittling me seemed odd to say the least. In any event, I recognized my cue and paid the man from the dwindling money that the university had paid out to me as reimbursement from the total amount of my scholarships exceeding the total cost of tuition. (It pays to commute to a local uni!)

As he handed us the tickets and we walked in I tried to keep my mind from thinking about my plans to drop out of the university to serve my Mistress as much as possible. I knew I needed to focus on pleasing my Mistress on this outing, but I couldn't help but feel nervous and distracted.

The goal was to finish this semester and then start the next year to gain the scholarship money. I would then attend the bare minimum of class to pass the first semester so that I could still attend the second semester during which I would obtain the second semester money but not attend classes at all intending to drop out. I would then work a demeaning job somewhere part time funneling all my money to my Mistress.

We didn't have much to speak of beyond the typical car insurance, electricity, etc... in terms of expenditure since She owned the house we lived in. She had managed to pay for it by applying the life insurance money She received after dad died.

As long as we lived within somewhat reasonable means, even a single part time income could probably afford to support Her, and since I was living the life of Her slave, I basically only required food. Luxuries were forbidden to me anyway, meaning the saved cost of what would normally be spent on the second member of the household all got channeled toward pampering and treating the Mistress to the life of leisure and luxury She deserved.

Thankfully I was wearing my trusty chastity device, because following down that line of thinking got me aroused before I knew it. Ah... to spend the rest of my life working some demeaning job I hate wearing my chastity device under my clothes to work every day for the rest of my life all to earn a paycheck I would never see a penny of; then I would have the privilege of coming home to serve my beautiful Mistress hand and foot afterward.

I would have to schedule my work so that I would get back home every day right as my Mistress would be waking up so I could serve Her uninterrupted throughout all Her waking hours and then go to sleep myself for just a few hours before doing it all again. I would just have to catch up on sleep 2 or 3 times a week on my time off from the part time job while my Mistress was still asleep. It would be an exhausting, sleep deprived life, but I desired it so badly. These thoughts really got me raring to go. That's the kind of slavery I once thought I could only dream of, but here it was becoming my reality.

Eventually I was roused from my reverie by my Mistress who said that She would like to visit some of the rides. I showed deference that both befit a slave but also didn't stand out in public when agreeing to her itinerary for the day.

After going on several of the attractions, the sun began to set. We had arrived around 1 PM (since my Mistress tends to sleep until about noon now that She had quit Her job allowing me to pick up all the expenses for Her).

At this point She announced, "I think we have time for one more ride."

Just as I was wondering what She had in mind, She clarified that we had not yet been on the ferris wheel.

As the ferris wheel grew larger and larger with our imminent approach, it seemed to me that my Mistress was getting more cheerful by the minute. She seemed almost giddy. Putting those thoughts aside, I took our last attraction tickets out and handed them to the attendant who would help us board the cabin. He smiled as he took our tickets and bid us to have fun on the ride. I entered first and helped my Mistress inside.

For a minute or two there was silence. We could hear distant carnival style music and the happy screams of distant families riding ponies or mini coasters together. Just as I was about to drift off into thoughts about my future again, my Mistress broke the silence.

"It's almost been a whole year" She started.

"I honestly didn't think you were serious when we started. I certainly didn't think you'd last this long after what I've subjected you to!" She chuckled.

"I am so glad you allowed me to become your slave, Mistress." I responded using Her formal title since we were suspended in the air nearing the apex of the wheel where no one would overhear us.

"Me too hehe." She giggled.

After a moment of silence She resumed, "I have to admit, you're really suited for it. I don't think I could go back to having you just be my son. I definitely wanna keep you on as my slave instead, ya know!"

"Yes, yes! Thank you, Mistress! I know exactly how you feel. I don't want to go back. I want to keep serving you forever! Please let me stay as your slave!" I gave a heartfelt response despite Her comments coming across as playful.

My Mistress waited a moment, put her finger to the side of Her mouth as if thinking and then began,

"Well... since we've made up our minds about this, how about we fully commit. Here and now."

Before I could even wonder what She meant, She said,

"Promise me. Promise that from now on, you are my slave forever. You will always be my son, and I love you... but from this moment on you really are just going to be a slave to me. Again, though I will always love you as my son, I will not really show it that much. I will treat you like the slave you aspire to be. The slave you are."

She emphasized how She would always love me, but also made it clear that there was no going back to a standard parent-child relationship after this.

"So, will you be my slave, my possession? You will own no property. You will be property instead, and all that you formerly owned will from now belong to me. I will punish you when necessary, I will reward you when I feel so inclined, and I will use you in any way I desire. You will be a tool for my pleasure and nothing more. It won't be easy either..."

She paused for a moment.

"But, I want you to do it. I want to own you mind, body, and soul. So if you are prepared to take that last step, then do it. You don't need to say anything, just worship me now to seal the pact. If you want to back out or keep our relationship where it is now, then sit there completely still and say nothing until we are back on the ground. In this one instance... for the very last time, the choice is yours, slave."

My mind was racing. This was time sensitive. We were already just past the apex of the ferris wheel and were on our way down now. I knew immediately that I wanted this, but still it is a bit hard to convince yourself to get down and worship your Mother's feet in public. I figured She had chosen this place and time to force me face that inhibition head on but still be in a semi-controlled environment.

The likelihood of being seen up here was low, but it wasn't 0 like it was at home. I then realized why She didn't call me her son earlier. She was covering Her bases on the miniscule chance we are discovered. Then I realized, I didn't have time for such thoughts. I had to respond now!

I got down on my knees between the two seats and grasped for Her right foot where the anklet containing the key to the lock on my penis resided. She stopped me and said, "No. That's not good enough to seal the deal permanently. I need you to walk a path you can't ever come back from even if you wanted to."

She spread Her magnificent legs in a graceful gesture and furled up Her miniskirt. Still no panties... I knew exactly what She wanted immediately, and I looked up at Her in shock. "I'm glad you understand. Today, you're going to worship the pussy that birthed you, slave. There's a chance we'll be seen, so if you really can't bring yourself to do it..."

Before She could offer the alternative scenario predicated on my inability to follow through with my decision to serve Her I put my head between Her legs and began to lick my heart out. Her well trimmed pubic hair tickled my nose. I was so scared that I couldn't even enjoy it or fully appreciate the gravity of what I was doing. She seemed to like it as She began to moan and put one hand on my head pulling me close to Her while ruffling my hair while She balanced Herself with the other hand putting it against the glass of the window.

After about 30 seconds of this She forced me away and unfurled Her skirt so that it looked normal again. It seems we had gotten low enough that people would start seeing us if we continued.

As our cabin reached the ground She whispered, "Wise decision, slave."

Afterward, I helped Her out of the cabin by grabbing Her hand and we returned to the car without a word. My Mistress wore a beautiful smile the whole way back to the car, and I helped Her into the car the same way I helped Her out of it earlier. I drove us home with my heart beating out of my chest the whole way.

Part 3: No Holding Back Now

Over the weeks that came following our little stunt at the fair I expected I would be made to worship my Mistress again in much the same way I did inside the ferris wheel. However, I was not immediately tasked with doing so. Instead, I was slowly commanded to work my way up from Her feet along Her legs worshiping every inch as I went while going a little bit farther up Her body each session.

Finally I reached the zone I had craved to taste again: my Mistress's womanhood. However, this delight was denied to me. I was instead made to skip past Her vulva and focus on Her belly, arms, and neck first. She seemed sensitive on Her forearms and stomach. I greatly enjoyed the feeling of making Her tense up.

I was next allowed the boon of massaging and sucking Her voluptuous breasts. I became so passionate at times I thought I'd suffocate. Her breathing always changed into short gasps and moans when I massaged and suckled on Her. It delighted me to know that one as lowly as I could bring Her such pleasure.

Her breasts were a shapely pair of double Ds with a distinct firmness to them. Her nipples were pointed sharply and surrounded by light pink areolas which were on the larger side. There was a distinct bluish vein that snaked its way down her cleavage which could only be seen in certain lighting.

The overall effect of Her breasts never failed to make me marvel at the bounty of a Mother's bosom. I secretly wished that She was still lactating like She must have been at the time of my birth, but I was able to satisfy my desire by reasoning that I was not worthy to drink Her sweet milk anyway. I wasn't even sure I was worthy to drink the golden nectar from Her lower half.

Next came Her dirty hole, and can I say, what a pleasure it is to clean Her ass for Her. After several weeks of feet into breasts into ass, She decided having Her ass licked was not as comfortable as She would have liked. She commanded me to procure a Queening Box for Her to smother me in from now on.

Thus I began my quest of finding the perfect pleasure box for my Mistress. All She had specified was that it had to be optimized for Her comfort and pleasure so that She could sit on it for hours at a time while reading or whatever She was in the mood for. She said it didn't particularly matter if it was comfortable or miserable for me. She was ambivalent toward that, as I was simply a tool and She didn't particularly want to sacrifice Her comfort on the altar of guaranteeing my discomfort.