Once in my bedroom I realised I was still holding my skirt almost at my waist. What was I doing?!
My son had instructed me to show off my panties, then told me, no, ordered me to come up here and dress entirely inappropriately for his viewing. And, it struck me, how did he know how I'd dressed for his father?
I sat down on my bed. What shall I do? Go down again and act as though nothing had happened, stay here till he realised I wasn't falling for it, or, I shivered, do as asked. Strike that...do as I was ordered?
"Mother? What's keeping you? I'm waiting and the longer I wait the more I shall" he paused, "the more I shall punish you."
Slowly I began to undress. Everything came off. Then I rummaged in my drawer and pulled out the black bra and matching panties he'd stipulated, the ones I used to wear for his father. I eased myself in to them, and realised my waist had thickened a little since I'd last worn them. Then I put on the black suspender belt with dark stockings, secreted all this time in my bottom drawer. Funny how I'd never worn them for any of my more recent trysts with men, usually ones I worked with.
I looked at myself in the full-length mirror. I tried to see myself as Aaron would soon see me, but succeeded in seeing only a slutty woman, a 39 year old widow obeying her son's command to appear so sluttishly.
With no enthusiasm I picked up my blue panties, as instructed, and went back to Aaron's room and pushed open the door. What a shock awaited me. Aaron was now dressed in the fancy dress costume he'd worn to a party recently - as a schoolmaster, complete with gown and mortar board. And laying on his bed was a cane, a thin whippy-looking one. I felt the blood drain from my face. What on earth?
"Ah, mother, late but here." He beckoned me fully into the room, and I crossed my hands over my chest. My breasts are not large, but they're also not tiny, and in that particular bra I knew I was showing off an awful lot of them.
"What are you doing dressed like that, Aaron? Is this some kind of game?" As I spoke he came up to me and moved my arms to my side. And ogled my breasts.
"A game? Yes, you could call it that. You came home from seeing your latest conquest, barged into my room and had the nerve to accuse me of not being able to get a woman of my own. You, who can't keep her knickers on whenever a man smiles at you."
I knew now that I reddened. This was so unfair, but before I could remonstrate he continued.
"So, now, I'll show you what happens to naughty mothers, ones who think the world revolves around them. Put your hands on your head!"
Bemused, I did as commanded, realised what I was doing and began to put them down again when Aaron yelled: "On your head!"
I obeyed.