NOTE: This is a decidedly dark story of a son who takes advantage of his mother's weakness for sex and submission to abuse her in all manner of a shameful ways. If dominance and submission are not your cup of tea, I suggest you look for another story. There are many good ones on this site.
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Outside it was a typical hot, humid, Florida afternoon in early July, but it was cool and comfortable in the air conditioned Palm Beach mansion of the multi-millionaire, William C. Decker. William's 18 year old son, Arnold, was sitting on the living room couch with his mother, Evita Maria Corazon Montez Decker, seated beside him.
Evita Decker was the beautiful Cuban mestiza who some 20 plus years before had married the "muy Rico Americano", or as others said of her less kindly, she was the "spic tramp with the Solid Gold Pussy." 'They' said the marriage would not last, but two children in the first two and a half years had carried the union along. The first child, a daughter, had been of little interest to Evita's husband, but the second was the boy, Arnold, who would forever be the apple of his father's eye. Whether William Decker might have otherwise shed his Hispanic wife was an open question, but the arrival of a son made all the difference. Arnold was to have everything his father could provide, and that included a full-time live-in biological mother to raise him.
Seated on the other side of a coffee table from Arnold and Evita, were three of Arnold's classmates from his prep school. All were about Arnold's age or perhaps a year or two older. They had arrived only the day before for a summer vacation visit. Crude and ill mannered (as her son's friends so often were) Evita took an immediate dislike to them all.
How could such disreputable young men be from an expensive and presumably prestigious private school? Evita sometimes asked herself the same question about her own son. The Sullivan College Preparatory School for Young Gentlemen had accepted Arnold despite his previous academic failures and behavioral malfeasance. Evita suspected that the school was not so much interested in academic excellence as it was in 'Young Gentlemen' with wayward histories rich enough to pay an outrageous tuition.
Her three guests certainly seem to confirm that suspicion. The language from the other side of the coffee table was straight out of the gutter. None of the boys seemed to care in the least that a lady was present and listening to their foul mouths. All of them, including her own son, peppered their sentences with the f-word. If their extraordinarily raw dirty jokes weren't indiscreet enough, they bragged endlessly, often in excruciatingly dirty detail, of their sexual exploits with a wide variety of women.
At first glance the scion of the Decker family would have seemed to have little in common with his three friends. For one thing he was clean shaven, his hair was cut short, he was dressed in pants that fit, and he was better looking. Indeed, Arnold Decker was quite handsome with dark hair, a straight patrician nose, a chiseled chin, and 6 feet of muscular frame. Given a closer look, however, he fit in quite well with his classmates. His language was quite as vulgar as theirs, and he was every bit the same breed of egotistical self-centered bully obsessed with sex.
For all of his 18 years Arnold had been doted over by his wealthy father willing to excuse his son of anything, however reprehensible or even criminal his behavior. That the boy had matured into something of a spoiled, arrogant, bully was not at all unpredictable even though his father did not seem to notice. Evita, however, had watched with alarm the deterioration in her son's behavior and she could see it was accelerating.
This afternoon, however, Arnold was unusually passive, only occasionally offering a comment. He seemed distracted, hardly aware of the ongoing conversation. A coy smile never left his face as if he was listening to a joke that no one else could hear. Evita wondered if he was high on something. If so it would not have been the first time.
Evita was decidedly nervous and uncomfortable about the situation in which she found herself. The vulgar language and ribald conversation was embarrassing and distressing to her. Her son was unaccountably bombed, too 'out of it' to be have any concern as the conversation became ever nastier.
Then there was the way her three 'guests' stared at her. Evita was certain each boy was undressing her in his mind, imagining what she might look like sprawled naked on the floor with her legs spread, ready to be raped. How evil and personal that erotic vision must to been to burn its way into Evita's consciousness where she too could see herself nude and waiting helplessly to be violated. Evita shuddered. It was not a comforting thought.
As the afternoon wore on Evita became more and more uneasy until finally she found herself on the edge of panic. Several times she gave some excuse to leave, but Arnold would not allow her to go. It troubled her that she could not make such a simple decision without her son's permission, but lately, since 'that night', that is how things were in the Decker mansion. To have lost control over her own home was frightening, all the more so because Arnold seemed to have no boundaries, no restraints, when it came to this own pleasure. That smug smile across his face scared her. What did he have in mind?
She was not long in finding out. Out-of-the-blue Arnold brought the ongoing thread of conversation to an abrupt halt with a brusque order.
"Stand up mother!"
When the woman beside him didn't move, he repeated his order, louder this time.
"I SAID, STAND UP BITCH! NOW!"
For just a moment, the older woman fidgeted nervously with the string of pearls around her neck, desperately stalling for time to think. "What is he up to?" she wondered. What ever it was, Evita Decker was distressed by the hard tone of her son's voice. She had known for a long time that her son's cruelty bordered on the psychotic, and she was fearful of what he might ask of her.
She had every reason to be. It had been only a week since 'that night'. It had been on 'that night' when in a moment of drunken weakness she had invited her son to fuck her. Her husband had left the day before, on an extended business trip to Europe, and he expected to be away for a month. Evita had been angry and hurt that he refused to take her along. 'That night' Evita was bitter, drunk from too much wine, and aroused from watching an X-rated videotape. It was for a bit of revenge that a horny, intoxicated, and foolish wife had invited her son into her bed.
That had been a terrible mistake. Since 'that night' Arnold had made her life a living hell. Anytime she did not grant his every wish, he would threaten to tell his father was a slut she was, even to do so immediately by wire to Europe. Of course, Arnold's insistence on his mother's obedience included his continued access to her sexual favors, but that was only the beginning. Not satisfied to merely fuck her, the price for his silence was her total and absolute submission. Evita had become the sex slave of her own son.
After 'that night', Arnold always slept with his mother. As it suited him, even in the wee hours of the morning, he would awaken her and order her to service the rampant hard-on that seemed to be a permanent part of his anatomy. Nor was sex every night enough to satisfy Arnold's incredible libido. At least twice during the day, sometimes even more often, this oversexed and constantly horny teenager would insist that his cowed mother suck him off, and /or spread her legs to make her pretty pussy available for his use and pleasure.
Evita had tried her best to resist. She understood quite well what she was being forced to do was both immoral and unlawful, but then how could she do otherwise? Arnold's threat to tell his father of their affair was too real and too frightening to be ignored.
