My Mother, My Slave

Author's note:

This is a short story and the first story I have ever written. Feedback will be welcomed in the comments. I've been reading on this site for over 10 years and I think it's about time I had a go at my own short story. I hope you like it!

If you're reading this, you're probably wondering how I got myself into this situation. So let me explain. My name is Sam and I grew up in a small town outside of Boston. As an only child my upbringing was carefully structured and as you can imagine, I received endless attention from my parents growing up. That was until I 'became of age' as they say.

My mother Maria, and my father George had brought me up the best they could. Without being too full of myself, i'd like to think that they did a pretty good job on me. I get straight A's, I'm rarely in any sort of trouble and I always do my chores when asked and on time.

You could say that I'm the perfect child. The son that most parents dream of. The truth is, I'm far from it. Like many people, perhaps yourself included, I am an addicted masterbater. It started when I came across my first nudey mag. It then progressed to hours of porn watching and many more hours of jerking my meat.

Now at nineteen, I'd watched all kinds of porn. Girl on guy, girl on girl, group sex, threesomes, step-siblings, mature women, petite women, large women, interracial... you name it, I watched it.

It was around this time that I found out that I particularly liked watching older women. It felt so taboo to watch young guys like myself, fucking and being pleasured by these beautiful older goddesses!

So, you could imagine it was very frustrating to live with a mother like mine. Mom is what us young guys like to call MILF materiel. At forty-three, she stood as though she was a women ten years younger. Her chestnut brown hair hung down to her shoulders and curled pleasantly on either side of her face. Her lips were a constant shade of lipstick red and her blue eyes sparkled amongst her brown curls.

Her weight was that of most women in their early forties. No longer thin and slender, she wore her curves well in all departments. Her chest was what most men noticed first. Her breasts pressed out against any t shirt she wore and her ass filled all of her pants to bursting point.

I still remember the morning when she had come running into my bedroom completely topless. I'd been late for school that morning and slept in by almost an hour. In my mothers panic, she must have forgotten to throw a shirt on before coming to wake me.

That morning gave me plenty of stock for the good old wank-bank as they say. I still remembered her full breasts swinging as she marched into my bedroom. Her nipples pricked and pointed in the cold winters air.

Given all of this, you'd think that most men would feel eternally lucky to have a woman at home like my mother. Not Dad though. Dad spends most of his time in his office or on business trips. "Supporting the family" He calls it.

Last year had been their 20th anniversary and still he hadn't worked up the effort to propose. That's right, my parents aren't married. Which now gets me to my point.

It was on one Thursday night that my life changed forever. I had just sat down to watch the end of the lakers game with my dad when the telephone buzzed loudly in the corner of the room. My mother, who'd been cooking dinner, wrapped her apron around her wrist and marched across the room to answer it.

I knew straight away. Her figure seemed to almost slump as she stood. Her breath shot back into her lungs and her hand darted to her mouth as she gasped.

"What is it, dear?" My father asked, doing his best to seem uninterested.

"Uhuh... okay... I understand. Thank you for letting me know." She said, calmly.

When she hung up I could feel the atmosphere quickly shifting in the room.

"It's my Father... he's dead." She said it with a real lack of emotion

I know what you're thinking. How on earth could my mother be so emotionless to finding out that her father had just died? Notice that I did not call this man my grandfather. That was because I'd never met him. He'd sent me many birthday presents and cards of course. But he never did bother to show his face around these parts.

Mom never liked to talk about him and whenever my father mentioned his name it was always with disgust or distain. The topic of my mother's dad was very rarely discussed and it had always intrigued me as to why.

Naturally, I quickly gave my mother a hug and did my very best to ignore the enormity of her breasts against my body. It was all very odd to me. My mother didn't seem to be so upset but there was a definite wetness in her eyes and I knew that deep down she must be hurting.

For the next few days leading up to the funeral my mother seemed to grow more and more stressed. Nothing like her usual happy go lucky self. She was agitated and on edge. Even my father knew to stay clear of my mothers wrath when she was like this.

The following week we took the three hour journey to get to his funeral. I saw cousins I'd never met, uncles and aunts that I'd not seen for over a decade. All in all, it was a very awkward experience for me. The service was pleasant enough and he seemed to have a good turn out of people.

What did make me suspicious was the very tall man, all in black, who was stood at a distance from the mourning crowd. He was dressed rather smartly in a three piece suit with a top hat and shades. My mom seemed to notice him too as she nodded in his direction, to which the mysterious man tipped his hat to her, exposing his bald head.

The after gathering was a little warmer. I got to talking to some of my distant family and decided that they weren't all that bad after all. My mother had made them all out to be crazy people. That they were all part of some secret cult or something.

Though, I didn't think there was anything wrong with them. Maybe they were a little forward with each other. I watched one of my older cousins, Lisa, kiss her father fully on the mouth. I hadn't done that with my mom for years. I also watched one of my aunts taking a rest on her sons lap. That seemed a little odd but nothing too wild.

Not weird enough to freak me out. And so the day pressed on and the tall dark man finally approached our table to introduce himself. It was the first time in my life that I'd ever saw my mom so nervous.

"Hello, Mr Anderson. It's a pleasure to see you again." She said, ecstatically.

He kissed both of her cheeks in a warm gesture before sitting down.

"The pleasures all mine, Maria. This must be your son, Samuel... isn't it?" He asked with his hand outstretched.

"It's just Sam." I said, as I took his hand.

The look in my moms eyes as we shook hands will stay with me forever. She seemed scared, frightened, yet excited for some bizarre reason. For a while he sat down and talked with my mom. My dad took this opportunity to survey the buffet once more. That was when the man turned to talk to me.

"We need to talk. You may not have known your grandfather well, but he did have something that he left for you."

This shocked me, but somehow it didn't seem to shock mom.

"Me? Why would he leave me something?" I asked, now very confused.

"I'll explain it on the way home. I fear I may need to travel home with you and your mother to finalise the transfer of possession."

My first thought had been money. As much as that would have been nice, I can't deny that what was awaiting me was something money couldn't buy.

And so we took the three hour journey with the mysterious man seated in the passenger seat, across from my dad. My dad was always eager to drive. Although, he did offer my mother the job before leaving.

Nothing was said during the drive, though my mother had reached for my hand in the back seat, she held it sweetly all the way home. At one point her thumb rubbed against the inside of my palm and regretfully I felt a familiar twitch in my pants.

Once we were home, dad locked himself away in his study. He wasn't all that pleased to be taking this man home with us but he didn't seem to have much of a say in the matter. My mother made us drinks and before we all sat down to discuss anything, mom had asked me to help her with something in the garage.

That was when I noticed how stressed she truly was. We locked eyes and she gripped my shirt and pulled me close. "Whatever it is you hear about me. Whatever it is you may think. It runs much deeper than just me and you..." She said.

"What do you mean? Is this about your family?"

"It is.." she sighed, "it's about them and it's about us now."

"Mom, I don't understand." Was all I could say.

"Mr Anderson will explain it all. Just trust me and whatever you choose to do, I will support you fully."

With that, mom pulled me into an embrace. I hugged her tightly and again I felt her breasts against me. Her hands found the width of my back and she squeezed me tightly before releasing me.

When we returned, Mr Anderson had spread sheets of paper across the small table that centred the living-room. We sat down together and my mother took a nervous sip of her drink.

"Your mom was kind enough to let me know that you are unaware of why I am here." Mr Anderson started.

"No... unfortunately, it's not about money. But I have to ask before I begin; I am sure your mother has talked about an odd side to your suburban family. Did you happen to notice anything out of the ordinary today?" His question seemed serious enough and so I answered.

"Well... there were a few things..."

"Like what?" My mother asked, encouraging me.

"Well... I saw my cousin, Lisa, kiss my uncle on the mouth."

"Anything else?..." He asked.

"And that my aunt seemed to enjoy straddling my cousins lap." I chuckled, nervously.

"So you have noticed." Mr Anderson smiled.

"I knew you would." He said. "You have a keen eye, just like your mother. I suppose there is no easy way to tell you this, Sam. But your family are apart of a secret family tradition. A tradition that goes back hundreds of years."

"What kind of tradition?" I almost hesitate

"Slavery." He said.

I blinked. In truth it felt like a punch to the brain."Slavery?..."

"Yes, slavery. Though not the kind that you'd think. You see, it is tradition within your family that there is a sort of heritable ownership. Your aunt was seen on her sons lap because she is owned by her son. Lisa was seen kissing her father because her father does in fact own her."

"You don't mean to say..." I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"The slavery can be whatever kind the owner wants. It can be slave labour, it can simply be orders that must be obeyed. Or it can be sexual slavery."

The word sexual rung around my ears like a bell and the thought of my moms naked breasts came floating into my minds eye.

"Is this legal?" Was the only question that came to my head.

"Technically not, no. But it is within a secret society. It is not just your family that has continued this tradition. There are many other families as few as they are, that have continued these secret family habits."

"Are you telling me that my grandfather owns my mother?" I asked.

Mom kept her head down, staring at her glass of wine with patience.

"Owned. That ownership will now be passed down to you."

To tell you that I was shocked to my core would be an understatement. I felt my brain shake within my skull. My head felt numb and for a moment life did not seem real. It felt like a dream and for some reason it wasn't. It was real and raw.

"Your mother asked your father to relinquish her bounds to him years ago, and so he sent her away so that he could not take ownership of her any longer. Now that he has passed, that ownership now falls to you."

"Not Dad?" I asked, wondering why he wasn't the one to receive the ownership.

"Because your mom and dad are not married the title of master now falls to the slaves youngest male offspring. Which would be you."

For the first time my mother looked up at me. Her eyes were full of tears and for a second I thought that they were tears of sadness. Only for her to smile at me. She was happy.

"This can be whatever it is you want it to be, my son. I know it must be confusing to hear but I will now be yours to own. Nothing needs to change or it all can change if you want it. You have more power now than you could ever have wished for."

"Power? What power?" I asked.

"Have you ever missed a class? Ever avoided doing some of the chores around the house?" Mr Anderson asked.

"No?"

"Well now you can. If you want your mother to make you pancakes for breakfast every morning, she will do just that because you say so." He said.

"But I don't want to-" I began, but my mother cut me off.

"I have been waiting for this day for twenty years. Like it or not Sam, I am now your slave and must do as you say. If you want pancakes for breakfast it is my honour to oblige. If you want a massage after soccer practice it is only my honour to oblige. Anything you say I will do with love and with enjoyment." The tears in her eyes were now rolling down her cheeks.

In that moment I thought of a million things to do with my mom. She could drive me around like my personal cab. She could do all my chores to free up my time. She could give me money if I asked, massage my feet and fulfil any other urges that I wanted fulfilled. This all felt like some very peculiar dream.

"Any needs you may have, any at all, your mom will do as you ask." Mr Anderson, said.

"You mean... sexual needs?" I asked, catching my moms eye.

"Yes. I do mean sexual needs. I know this will be very new to you. If you must know, I am the master of my own daughters. They are very good to me and our loving relationship comes more natural than you ever would think. All you need to do is sign on the dotted line and I will leave you two to figure it out for yourselves." He said, while sliding the contract across the table towards me.

In that moment, I knew what I had to do. After a long breath I took hold of the pen and scribbled my name along the dotted line. Mr Anderson shook my hand and collected the papers.

"I will have a copy of the slave contract to you sometime next week. Until then you will not be the technical owner of her." He said, glancing over to my mother who was still wiping tears from her eyes.

I felt an underlying sense of gratitude for this man. He'd given me something that only existed in the depths of perverted dreams. My Appreciation for this power was overwhelming me. All I knew was that I was grateful for his help.

The following week was the longest week of my entire life. My mom did her best to continue as normal. She cooked, she cleaned, and for the most part, I did pretty much all of my chores. My father had questions, of course, any man would. But Mr Anderson told us to keep this from him. He said that he knew a whistleblower when he saw one and so we took his word for it.

I didn't want to expose my moms family and I sure as hell didn't want to ruin the opportunity that I had in front of me. The days leading up to the contract arriving in the mail were torturous. It was odd. I really didn't know what to make of it all but I did seem to be eager to test out my new role as MASTER.

On the nights leading up to the contracts arrival I jerked off countless times just thinking about all of the possibilities. I couldn't help it, would you? If this opportunity lay in your path? Would you be excited?

I know it be wrong. She is my mother for Christ sake. Nobody should ever think of their mother as some sex slave. But I did. I thought of her serving me over and over again. A woman's body was as foreign to me as the lost city of Atlantis. So to say I was excited to explore her body was barely hitting the mark.

To make things harder, my mother opted to were shorter skirts around the house and open cut shirts with pretty writing and cute images on them. She was a wonderful women. It was bizarre to think that in only matter of days I would become her owner.

"Mom?" I asked, one morning as she hoovered the rug in the hall.

"Hmm?" She hummed before turning off the hoover.

"Are you sure this okay with you. It's just that... well I've always seen you as my mother and still do. I've always followed the rules and even if I didn't, you have disciplined me in the past... I guess what I'm trying to ask is that, everything is going to change now, isn't it?"

For a second, she watched me. I felt her loving blue eyes take in the sight of me. Her smile curved up one side of her cheek and she looked pleased. I loved that look. It always meant that she was proud.

"Honey, I will always be your mother. And yes, our relationship will change. I will have no authority over you. I can no longer tell you to go to your room or keep the noise down. It will be you that will be giving me orders. I will cook for you, clean for you, buy you what ever it is you want, I will even... Please you in others ways, if you so wish."

"You mean?..." I knew what she was meaning, I shouldn't have had to ask.

"Yes. You know what I'm talking about." She said.

To that, my body had reacted in such a way that she seemed to notice. I felt the bulge ache in my groin and for a second I had been about to adjust it right before her very eyes. Speaking of her eyes, I watched them trail slowly down the length of my body to end at my crotch.

My guess was that she knew I was a virgin. She wasn't stupid. I had never had any sort of luck with girls. I suppose my experience with the female body was about to change and I think she knew that too.

"Soon, I will be yours to do with as you wish, but for now, I suggest you relieve yourself of that strain in your pants and be patient until the papers come through."

She was gesturing to the outline of my engorged cock in my pants. To think that my mother would be willing to help me with this strain turned me on immensely. It was sick, twisted and wrong on all levels. But soon she would be my slave and that was the way of it.

Soon I'd have this woman, this mature, sexy, older woman to use at my pleasure. It was the stuff of dreams and fantasy. She was mom and it was difficult to deal with. The thought of it all was very confusing at first.

Finally, the day came. A large, white envelope arrived and was addressed to me. Thinking nothing of it, my father handed it to me with a smile.

"Thanks Dad." I said eagerly.

My mom glanced over the kitchen table towards me as she ate her breakfast. Her slow shake of her head told me that I shouldn't open it in front of him, so I didn't. Feeling butterflies in my stomach, I retreated to my bedroom where my mom soon followed me.

She opened the door and stepped inside before shutting it behind her. She had been dressed for work and wore a skin tight dress with black high heels and a matching bag on her wrist.

I watched her macular legs stroll across the room where she sat herself down on the edge of my bed. Boy she looked good. I was beginning to wonder if she had dressed this way just for me.

"What now?" I asked, looking down at the contract and then back up to her.

"Now I am yours." She said, simply.

"Does this mean I'm the boss?" I smirked.

She smirked too. "I suppose that it does."

"I don't know what to say..." I said, while twirling the piece of paper nervously in my hand.

"Let's start with formalities. Now that I am your slave, I must address you as master."

I let that roll around in my head for a moment and decided that I didn't like the title "Master."

"Why don't you call me something else?" I asked.

"You don't like it?" She seemed shocked.

"Not really. I'd prefer something less domineering."

"What about Sir?" She proposed.

Sir didn't seem like a bad idea.