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Tick.
She cupped each weighty breast and raised them up to the camera.
"Oh God... What am I doing?" she stammered.
The video on the monitor was streaming what she was doing presently and she watched through bleary eyes as her already hard thick nipples pointed back towards her. Her stomach began feeling queasy like she was going to be sick.
'Smile,' the text read, 'you're on camera'.
She managed a smile, while staring blankly at the webcam mounted at the top of the monitor. It never occurred to her that smiling wasn't part of the demand. She was just so nervous, that it seemed the natural thing to do when someone asked you to smile for a camera.
Time ticked by as she waited for this humiliating event to end. Her distress made it difficult to keep track of time and she expected some notification to display on screen, but no notification or text was presented to indicate that her time had ended.
She fidgeted impatiently.
"Oh my God, I feel like a wretched fool to display myself thus and tricked into doing it longer than asked. What a fool I am to fall for this sick joke. I will seek justice when you're apprehended."
Minutes had passed; she felt gut wrenching sick at the perverse manipulation inflicted on her to show her breasts like a common whore soliciting a john at a car window.
She wrapped her robe around herself in a huff and turned her back to the computer. With one arm across her breasts holding her robe together and the other managing the phone, she proceeded to make a call.
Anger replaced her embarrassment at having been duped into displaying herself. She pressed the contact button for Sheriff Joe Conroy, her friend from church. Joe would help her. He would contact the proper authorities to investigate this cyber-crime or whatever it was. Sure, the whole incident would be difficult to explain, but something needed to be done to apprehend this ungodly criminal.
Instead of dialing the Sheriff's personal number, her phone beeped in her ear. The look she gave was one of astonishment. There displayed on her phone was a 20 second digital counter and text. This counter was shorter than the last.
'Your video will be uploaded to the number you dialed, including all contacts listed in your directory unless you provide service,' the text read.
She gasped with feelings of betrayal, "I did what you said! You promised to delete my son's video! You said that was all I needed to do to save my son."
There was no response except the continual deduction in count displayed on both screens. Then she understood. She felt an overwhelming chill, a sick queasiness in the pit of her stomach upon realizing that it wasn't the video of her son, but the video of her own indecent sinful act she just committed. It had obviously been recorded.
She understood the consequences that would arise if that video was sent to everyone in her contact list, including Sheriff Conroy. One consequence was the tremendous negative impact on her reputation and standing within the church and the community. How could a righteously faithful woman explain her smiling face as she offered up her breasts as an invitation? How could she explain that to her son?
She would be the one ridiculed and labeled a Jezebel, slut, whore, among other nasty, disgusting names. She would be shunned by her congregation and friends, forever an outcast. The damage would be catastrophic for someone like her. She couldn't allow that to happen.
"Oh my God!" she cried out. "I'll do it. I'll comply. I'll comply! Don't send that video. Please!"
The counter stopped at 10 seconds.
"What do you want me to do?" she whined.
She began reading the text displayed on the monitor which described what she was to do.
She gasped for air as if someone had knocked the air from her lungs. Her breathing was constricted by the horrid fear that overwhelmed her. Her phone dropped from her hand with a thud and bounced, resting on the carpet a short distance away.
"Oh Lord save me. You can't ask that of me. Please, not that. What you are asking is whorish and even more sinful than the last."
The demand displayed on screen was an abominable sinful act, a degenerate perversion only perpetrated by whores. She found the demand so repulsive that she had difficulty thinking, her mind froze with the inability to determine a logical way out. Her only thoughts were the consequences as to what would happen if she didn't comply with the instructions.
She stood shaking and unable act from the fear produced by her circumstances.
Then the counter started again from the 10 second mark.
In sheer panic she moved clumsily to comply. Her body nervously rattled with concern that she would be defeated by a digital number, now counting away any possibility of hope.
"Please, no! I'll do what you want. I'll comply!" she yelled out to the unholy tormentor.
Dropping her robe on the floor in a flurry, she scrambled with urgent intent into her son's chair.
Propping both feet on the on the mahogany wooden desk, she spread her legs wide to allow a full view of her naked form. Facing the camera, she began to masturbate as she was instructed.
She could not hide the revulsion and disgust that marked her face. Her mouth angled crooked, holding back the deep emotion, but not the tears that trickled from her eyes like steams gathering as pools where her hands worked her shame. She knew without a doubt that her sin was being recorded, but could rationalize no conceivable end to this shame.
But it was what her tormentor did next that caused her heart to pound relentlessly in her chest. There could be nothing more evil or diabolical than playing this video at the height of her humiliation.
She cried out. This torrential outburst was her last desperate plea to stop this deviant shame, a cry for mercy for which her tormentor had none.
"Oh... God... NO! Please. Please, I beg you. Don't play that video. Don't force me to do this with that video playing. PLEASE! It's demented and perverted to force me to do this watching my son's video."
Only the Devil would force a mother to masturbate while watching her son masturbate. This was inhuman and her anonymous tormentor could only be the Devil. The Devil was making her do this.
This Devil had no mercy.
Then abruptly, a second video began playing in a small window at the corner of the screen. It displayed another woman that sat masturbating in an office chair. This woman wore business attire, but her firm, well defined breasts hung out on display where her white blouse had been ripped open. One hand continuously mauled a breast while teasing a nipple. The woman's formal business skirt was hiked up to her waist which displayed her spread thighs, open labia and the dark moist crevasse at the opening to her vagina. Cindy couldn't help but to glance at woman's other hand as it rapidly rubbed across her clitoris.
The fact that this woman was disheveled and shamefully sobbing like herself, made it evident that she was also being forced to degrade herself in a similar fashion. It was apparent that this anonymous evil person had other victims.
Instructions scrolled at the bottom of the screen, 'Mimic my new whore. Do what she does. Say what she says'.
The screen began to flicker slightly. Sometimes it would momentarily flash.
Further text scrolled and began flashing, 'Watch the hard PENIS. Imagine and fantasize about PENIS. Service the PENIS. Love the PENIS. Whores love PENIS. You are a whore. You are my whore. You love PENIS. Service. Service. Service the PENIS'.
The text really said 'COCK' in big letters, but she was too prudish and naive to formulate that disgusting word in her mind. When she read it, her mind simply substituted it with the word 'PENIS'.
Time progressed as she sat shamefully masturbating while watching the video of both her son and the woman debase themselves. Throughout the process, random flickers or occasional flashes would overlay on top of the videos. With each flicker or flash, pornographic images, nasty words or both would be displayed within a blink of an eye. These images along with vulgar text and words were continuous and unending.
Her fixated eyes reflected the light, absorbing the compulsive images that were embedded within the frames of the video. The continual bombardment of flashes and flickers caused her mind to become malleable to accepting the ideas and phrases meshed among the images. She was like a snake wobbling as if mesmerized at a fixed point. Her movements were constant; her actions were without thought or awareness as she fell deeper into this trance like condition.
Her world was being turned upside down. Her life would be forever changed.
Feelings, strange, but not unknown; Feelings long forgotten from her youth began to affect her. Her breathing and heartbeat increased. "God! Please. No, this can't be happening. Oh... Lord, save me..." Cindy whimpered at the realization that she was wet and greatly aroused. The fact that her self-manipulation and arousal stemmed from watching her son's video caused great mental anguish and shame. Her self-degradation and arousal feed upon itself, making her unwilling to stop the pleasure that invaded her body. She shuddered and slipped a finger in vagina to mimic the whorish woman on the screen.
Time was progressing as she continued to stimulate her moist opening and clit while staring intently at her son's rigid dick as it pointed towards her from the video. The video of her son seemed random, almost systematic in its display of footage. Much of the video consisted of enticing close-up shots of his full length or it zoomed in on its bulbous head.
'To service men is to serve God'
The woman in the other video began licking her lips sensually and Cindy felt compelled to mimic the whore.
She began to view the display of her son's man sized dick with lustful hunger (the word penis dissolved from her vocabulary to be replaced with words more fitting to her level of lustful arousal). His youthful rigid prick was repeatedly presented to her like an offering to be devoured.
She could not avoid watching as his hand gripped tightly around the veined shaft. She began to associate his rigorous stroking as a private affair directed for her eyes alone. His shaft thickened and pulsed for her and taunted her with a lustful need. The bulbous spongy head became engorged; giving it a tint of red, like an oversized plum and it taunted her with arousal.
Her fingers began moving in and out of her gaping slit to match the pumping action of his hand. She began to fantasize that each stroke of his hand was the equivalent of a deep thrust. The visual image of his thrust motivated her to impale her fingers deep into herself with each stroke.
"Feels so good... Yes, that's it, thrust it in me..."
There was a silent battle raging in her mind. It was a crisis driven by her morality and righteous faith which was now wavering against the continuous bombardment produced by the strange unnatural feelings growing within her body. The sounds of sex mixed with the nasty sexual banter produced by the whore caused her mind to become more focused on the urges within herself and it further strengthened the visual fantasy playing within her mind.
The rigid cock before her was tantalizing and inspiring a process of thought that caused her sensitive nipples to react. Pleasure began to build as she rapidly thrust her fingers like a piston through the wide opening between her thighs. Her hand mauled both breasts, wildly pulling her hard nipples, causing her body to shudder. She was experiencing something new and exotic that had never happened before.
She was incognizant about opening her mouth to form an oval while imagining it encircling the girth of the bulbous mushroom shaped head. She paid no heed to the fact that her tongue rolled within her mouth as she fantasized about licking the circumstance of the thick shaft.
Her body was in a heated state of desire which caused her to shiver with pleasure at the thought of the engorged cock thrusting into to her. Her mind was so numb with lust that she completely forgot the fact that the throbbing prick she desired to penetrate her was her son's.
An intense pressure of sexual arousal was building within her. She thrust her fingers repeatedly, plunging them faster into herself to match the pumping action of his hand as it glided with force along his hardened member.
The woman on the other video was squirming in her chair as she repeatedly thrust a hand lotion bottle deep into her wide crack. "Fuck my whore pussy!" was repeated like a mantra.
Cindy began repeating the woman's mantra with a torrid urgency to orgasm. She was at the edge of exploding. She stared with intense concentration at stiff pole as if it pointed out from the video. It was teasing her, providing a catalyst that fueled desire.
The desire overcame her. "Fuck my whore pussy. Fuck my whore pussy with your big cock! That's it... Oh ya... give it to mama! Stick that big dick in me!" She cried out with lustful vigor.
Her body convulsed violently as the orgasm burst throughout her body. She had timed her orgasm to coincide with the exact moment her son's large cock ejaculated his creamy sperm. Huge globs spurted in her direction like Old Faithful.
Although his climax occurred in the video, she reacted unnaturally in the heat of the moment. Her lustful desire compelled her to fantasize and envision his ejaculate as real. It urged her to stick her tongue out as if to capture the white globs of cream spurting from the tip.
It was at that very moment, both videos abruptly ended and the monitor went black.
Cindy had not yet realized the monitor screen was black. She was so fixated with the image in her mind that she continued to behave in a sexually deviant manner; her tongue continued to lap at imaginary jizz. She eventually realized the screen was blank, but sat stunned and unmoving with her tongue sticking out of her open mouth.
She had an expectation that text would popup to demand more, but the screen remained blank and her house was completely silent.
It took several moments for her to recover her composure, retract her tongue and close her mouth. She appeared dumbfounded; her eyes fixated the screen, disappointed, with expectations. There was still a fire within her that urged the video to play again. As she sat with her legs still widely spread, awareness began to creep into her eyes.
The silence and absence of her tormenters barrage of demands eased her mind and her emotions began to stabilize. Her mind was now able to process her thoughts in a more rational manner.
Naturally, with rational thought, thinking about what she had just done, was the worst possible thing that could happen, at this particular moment.
A tidal wave of emotion burst from her. Like a punch to her gut, the humiliation and shame at what she had just concluded overwhelmed her. A mournful wail, powered by bottled up emotion, escaped her lips. It was long and droning, a heartfelt bundle spewed forth with despair.
As she wailed to the heavens, attempting to awaken God from his slumber, she jumped from the chair on to her knees and put her hands together to pray. With fervor, she was fanatical as she pleaded and begged for forgiveness for her actions. She was experiencing hysteria and desperation, a great need for redemption for committing those deplorable deeds.
Unfortunately, begging for forgiveness was also one of the worse possible things she could have done. By thinking about the sinful deeds she wanted forgiveness for, she had to revisit and replay those events in her mind. The sexual imagery and remembering the feelings produced by what she had done to herself made her loins tingle with arousal, producing moisture.
When she became aware of her reaction, a scream of disgust bellowed out, "Oh my God!"
What kind of sinful harlot have I become? How can I forgive myself for my degenerate behavior? What type of person am I to become aroused and orgasm over images of my son's cock?
Again, a mournful scream bellowed out when she realized she was now thinking the word 'cock'. It wasn't just 'cock', she had also thought of her vulva as 'cunt' and 'pussy'. Oh God, what is wrong with me? Why am I forming these degusting words in my thoughts?
Sounds of a door unlocking and slamming shut could be heard from downstairs.
The sound was like lightning suddenly shooting from the sky and striking earth on sunny day. To hear it now, at this specific moment, heralded an impact of impending tragedy.
Cindy's eyes opened in surprise and a terrible state of distress replaced her emotional crisis of shame and self-loathing.
Looking at the clock on the night stand, she became confused. The digital numbers representing the time were impossible. If those numbers were correct, it would mean she had been seated at the computer with her legs spread like a whore, committing her act of self-degradation for over five hours.
Sounds of a refrigerator door could be heard closing from the kitchen downstairs.
She was having difficulty comprehending the fact that she had been masturbating herself to orgasm for almost five hours. How was that possible?
A sigh of frustrated disappointment echoed as a cabinet door closed.
She always had food prepared and ready to eat when her son came home. The events this day had interfered with the normal order of her life.
A shuffling of footsteps scrambled across the linoleum floor, not far from the stairs.
Panic and fear raged through her body at the thought of her son catching her in this compromising position, it set her in motion. She scrambled wildly, stumbling and frantic, with intent to grab her robe and phone.
Quickly she rushed from his room, but stumbled. Her phone tumbled from her hand in the hallway, bouncing away like a rock skipping across water. With urgency, she bent down to pick it up, causing her naked ass to point high in the air, displaying her hairy wet crevasse between her shaking thighs.
Sounds of footsteps that signaled the beat of heavy feet, marched up the stairs.
In sheer desperation, she snatched up her phone off the hallway floor and scrambled clumsily through her bedroom door and carefully closed it shut. Locking her bedroom door, she then dropped, placing her back against its hard surface. She exhaled with relief at having made it to her room just in time.
She listened to the sounds produced by her son as he settled in his room.
A sound of a heavy thump signified his dropping of the book laded backpack upon his bedroom floor. An irritable tone as he complained, "Darn, it freaking smells in here." Sounds produced from the squeak of his chair as he sat, followed by, "Shit! Why is my chair soaking wet?"
She felt a tinge of embarrassment at her son's remarks. There was nothing she could have done to clean up her mess; there just wasn't any time.
Her cunt was red, swollen and sore from her rough manipulation. What did I do for five hours? I'm so confused. I have no memory of masturbating for that period of time. Every disgusting thing I did felt like it was done in an hour.
The sudden knock on her door startled her and she reacted by crawling away from the door.
"Mom? You in there?" The door knob jiggled. "Mom? You ok?"
"Ye- Yes, I'm- I'm fine son. I'm just not feeling too well. There are some leftovers in the fridge from yesterday. Sorry. I was- I was asleep (a small fib). I just haven't felt like doing too much today. I've been completely drained from my illness (lie)," she replied with a strained voice to fake sickness.
"Ok mom, sorry to hear your sick. Do you want me to bring you something? Also, do you know where the air freshener is? There is a musky smell in my room."
