This is a story of dominance and submission in the context of mother/son incest. If any of these things offend you, please read no further. All characters and events in this story are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All characters are over the age of 18.
I would like to thank my volunteer editor, Hatsuda, once again for his eagle eye and his helpful suggestions.
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My name is Lyn Cox and I have no doubt that society would consider me depraved, perverted, corrupt, insane, even. Yet I love my son with a passion that many would call degenerate; even worse. He has become my master, my Dom and I revel in every moment of our relationship.
How this happened is a story of my slide into a wholly immoral bliss. When this started, my husband, Jay, and I had been married for 21 years; Jay was 50 and I was 40 with a 20 year old son, Corey. He was the apple of my eye; Jay claimed that I spoiled him, but there was never any suggestion of "spoiled brat" behaviour. He was a good kid, smart, funny, sensitive and very respectful towards me. He knew the boundaries and almost always stayed within them, and on the occasions he didn't, took his punishment, usually making a joke out of it. Corey is tall with a mop of curly black hair, pale skin and deep blue eyes. Well built and very fit -- not with rippling abs and a six pack, but he enjoyed long-distance running and cycling and he has enormous stamina.
His relationship with his father was a little different. It was not that Jay was in any sense unkind or abusive, more that he seemed to be in the background and leave much of Corey's upbringing to me. Both Jay and I were lawyers; I had an extensive criminal practice and a reputation for being particularly hard-nosed. Jay was a tax lawyer, much more conservative. We had met when he was a tutor in my law degree -- the attraction was instantaneous, and we married when I discovered I was pregnant with Corey.
From an early age, I had realised I had a submissive streak in my nature. My parents were demanding and insisted on obedience, and that became second nature to me. In my teenage years I sought guys who had a dominant streak, but they were more often abusive rather than truly dominant. But Jay knew what I needed and was prepared to provide it. In doing so, he was able to fulfil some of his own fantasies, namely having a submissive partner willing to do exactly what he wanted. He claimed that I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
I thought he might have been exaggerating, although I was quite tall, around 5'7" well built and with no fat at all. I worked out regularly to keep in shape, apart from anything else because of a physically demanding occupation. I always thought my 36C breasts were something special; Jay agreed, as he did about my long, well shaped legs terminating in a well padded bottom and a slim waist. All these complemented by an oval face with clear, pale skin, high cheekbones and a slightly retroussé nose. Glossy straight black hair down to my waist and cobalt blue eyes.
Jay and I had never hidden our special sexual relationship from our son. When he judged that Corey would be able to understand, Jay gave him the usual "birds and bees" talk. He also said that he and I greatly enjoyed being together and might sometimes be rather noisy, but not to worry, everything was okay.
I believed Corey was aware of this activity although I suspect he had the standard attitude of not wanting to think about his parents having sex. Jay told me that, later in his teens, Corey became intrigued by hearing his mother refer to his father as "master" and asked him about it. Jay said that he found this mildly embarrassing, but told Corey in simple terms, that I was submissive. He explained this by telling him that his mother would do whatever he told her to do, and they both enjoyed playing this "game".
When he continued to show an interest in this submissive "game", Jay had told him that I found it an essential diversion from my stressful professional life.
"She's able to let go completely and allow me to control her totally," Jay had said. "Your mother is very good at what she does professionally. It's stressful and getting more so, but she needs a release from that continuing stress. We discussed this for a long time, and she told me she needed someone she could trust absolutely to be able to let go of all her inhibitions and be who she wants to be. That way, she could surrender herself to someone she could rely on and give that person complete control over her, letting go of all her responsibilities in her emotional life."
Jay understood this completely. The need for me to give up responsibility for myself and to have Jay take control had become a powerful motivation for me. I could abandon myself to him completely, give up all responsibility and even 'be nothing'. I wouldn't have to 'be myself' but just allow him to take control of my body and mind. Jay and I trusted each other totally, but I had a "safe word" which would guarantee that Jay would stop whatever he was doing if I couldn't handle it any more. I had never felt the need to use it.
Some time later, Corey and his father had a similar conversation although this one went somewhat deeper. Corey wanted to know about the locked door under the stairs—we lived in an old two storey house and there was a doorway under the stairs that we had always said led to an old storage area. Corey's curiosity had got the better of him.
Jay told me that he decided it was probably best that Corey understood all the details, although I was rather hesitant about it. Jay swore Corey to secrecy, not letting any of the details out of the house, then unlocked the door and took Corey down a short flight of stairs. He told me that Corey was astounded and could hardly believe his eyes. It was a small but well equipped BDSM "dungeon", complete with a bondage bed, St Andrew's cross, an array of paddles, floggers, whips, butt plugs and dildos.
Jay had explained that my submissiveness extended to bondage and discipline, and we both had a lot of fun in the "dungeon". He had added, which, in my opinion was rather too much information, that the sex afterwards was just fantastic.
For some time, Jay's and my relationship had been under some strain, and it seemed to be getting worse. I couldn't put my finger on it, and when I suggested it might be some form of midlife crisis, Jay became quite upset, and his dominance became more extreme.
It reached a point where I had been on the verge of using my "safe word"; on one occasion, I gasped, "Oh please, master, not so hard," as my Dom thrashed my bottom with his belt. I enjoyed being spanked when it generated a pulsating heat in my pussy, but this had been too hard and was cauterising all the pleasure.
He merely lashed me harder, saying, "You will take what I give you, bitch, and if you don't like it, too bad."
I demanded that Jay should sit down with me to work this out, and he confessed to having developed a voyeuristic habit and spent time on the net watching videos of men taking women hard. He told me he particularly liked videos about young men with older women, making them scream and beg.
"Jay, that's disgusting," I said. "How can you want to watch such stuff? I thought we had a pretty good sex life and now you want to watch this ... this ..."
"Lyn, you don't understand. You know I get really excited by the idea of domination, and seeing young studs dominate older women takes me back to my youth. Honey, I'm not as young as I used to be and this gives me a heap of vicarious pleasure. We still have a great sex life, and that shouldn't change, but watching these videos adds extra spice so far as I'm concerned."
"Jay, look, I need time to process this, but I think I understand, and I won't criticise you if this is what you really need."
A few months passed, and then Jay really blew me away. He had been tense and jumpy for a few days and as we were relaxing one evening, I asked him what was wrong.
"Nothing, honey, although you might think there is. I don't know how to wrap this up, so I'll come straight out. I want to see you with another guy."
I guessed, as my master, Jay could have ordered me to do this, but this was taking things a lot further than they had ever gone before.
"I see. You want to see your wife get fucked by another man. Am I reading you right?"
"Yeah, that's right, honey, but this is different from our Dom/sub relationship. That's really just a game, but this is serious stuff."
I was shocked. Being Jay's sub was more than just a game to me. It was a central part of my life, vital to my wellbeing. This was the way for me to be able to release the stress of my job by allowing him full control of my body to do whatever he needed with it. I had never realised that his view of our relationship was so different from mine.
