The Degrading of Patricia -- ch 14
After several months of searching John and Patricia found an old farmhouse about an hour's drive out in the country. The house had a lot of age on it, and in need of a lot of repairs, but nothing that John couldn't do himself. Especially after getting a job with a general contractor in the county. He was learning the trades and making good money at the same time. Every day Patricia would greet him at the door when he got home from work, on her knees with collar on, awaiting his instructions for the evening. The first thing John did each time was reach for the leash hanging from the coat hook by the door and attach it to her collar. He would then lead her to the bathroom where he'd shower, forcing her to crawl on all fours as he reminded her what a worthless cunt and fucked up mother, she was to be needing this kind of treatment from her own son.
After a couple months of this routine John realized two things had happened. His first realization was that treating his mom the way she needed to be treated had desensitized him to any of his feelings towards her as his mom. He knew in his head she was his mom. But his lust for her as the sensuous woman she was had overtaken his feelings for her as his mom. The second thing he'd come to realize was they were falling into the same trap every couple that's ever-lived fall into. They had developed a routine that they just repeated every day. Not to say it was dull and he wasn't enjoying it. Far from it. He was wakened every day by his mom sucking on his cock. She would then mount him, riding him slowly as he drained her tits of milk, either sucking on them or expressing them all over the towels they kept beside the bed so it wouldn't get soaked. Her body had become merely an instrument for his amusement, enjoyment and pleasure. Which fed into his first realization.
When he got home from work each day his mom usually met him at the door wearing her collar and nothing else. Or she was so scantily clad she may as well be naked. But that's the way John liked to keep her. She'd then service his cock again before dinner, and he would drain her tits of her milk. Something he enjoyed and never tired of. Their night usually ended with some type of lovemaking. It was only his stamina as a nineteen-year-old that allowed him to keep up with his mom's sexual needs.
But what he wrestled with daily was how to humiliate and degrade her in new ways so as to feed that need within her. The law of diminishing returns was starting to take effect. Then one Friday as he was still at work it came to him. He was just going to use her for his own pleasure however he wanted. He knew how much she needed to be reminded of his love for her as her son. He smiled to himself as he thought, 'If she wants to hear me tell her I still love her as her son. She'll have to work for it.'
Then his conscience screamed out, 'What kind of a fucked-up son have I become? Blackmail my own mother to hear me tell her I love her!' Then the picture of her groveling at his feet as foreplay to their sexual union took control. He felt that stirring in his groin at the thought of her degrading herself and submitting to his every whim. Knowing that her need for it mastered her with the same all-consuming craving that a cocaine addict is controlled by that white powder. And her daily acknowledging that would be the humiliation she needed. Then he began to wonder who the addict was.
He pulled in the driveway and parked his truck on the side of the house. It was a hot, muggy day in August. He was drenched from sweat and filthy from the day's work of framing out a new house they were building. He walked up the front steps to the porch of the house, then in the front door. The air-conditioned interior was a welcomed relief. Patricia was waiting for him just inside the front door on her knees, wearing only a pair of jean shorts and her collar.
John stared down at her for several seconds. 'She really is one gorgeous, sensuous slut.' He thought to himself. He walked past her and into the living room as he spoke to her. "Follow me slut. On your knees crawling." John walked over to the couch and turned to watch his mother crawl into the room.
Patricia crawled slowly across the floor feeling a measure of humiliation, as she always did whenever he made her do this. Her huge tits hung from her chest swaying back and forth with each step. Her nipples dripping as her breasts were engorged with milk. She knew how much her son enjoyed draining her breasts of her sweet milk. During the day, and sometimes in the middle of the night, she would pump them and save the milk for selling. They'd both discovered there was a real market for breast milk. So John set her up as a milking cow for several young mothers who had difficulty producing milk for their own newborns. Patricia sat back on her legs kneeling in front of her son awaiting instructions.
"It's been a long day." He said as he towered over her. "What are you waiting for."
Patricia untied his boots and then sat back as he kicked them off. Then she reached for his belt to unbuckle it. His jeans and t-shirt were soaked from his sweat. The odor from a day's labor in the hot sun was almost unbearable for her. This routine was always anticipated by her with the hopes of hearing some kind of tenderness from her son. She had come to crave his tenderness as much as his domination. She needed both.
John pulled his t-shirt over his head as his mother peeled his jeans and shorts down his legs. He sat down on the couch, really wanting to shower first. But today he was going to do things differently. He stared at her in silence, waiting for her to do what she knew was expected of her. He would tell her about his day later, during dinner. But for now, he wanted to establish his expectations of her.
Patricia longed to hear some words of tenderness from her son. She had seen this slowly evolving over the summer months. Her son becoming harder towards her as their sexual relationship overshadowed every other aspect of their relationship. Her need to be degraded had not only changed her, but it had also changed him and how he treated her. She reached for his flaccid cock as it lay on his thigh. Her pussy throbbed as she touched it. She loved everything about the male cock. Its texture. Its softness. Its taste. The veins running through it. The fact that this cock belonged to her son only made her desire for it that much stronger.
She leaned forward, breathing in the musky odor coming from between his legs. Then she licked the length of his cock as she held it in her hand. She could taste the saltiness of his dried sweat. She bathed it with her tongue and lips till she brought it to it's full ten-inch erection. No matter how many times she did this, she always marveled at the size and beauty of her son's cock. She lowered her head and sucked in his nut-sack, repeating the process of cleaning it of all the dried sweat on it. She felt herself being carried away by her own desires as she worshipped this piece of flesh that hung from her son's body. This man who owned her.
"You need to hear me tell you I love you. Don't you slut?" John's question was cold and calculating. As he intended it to be. He was going to call her 'mom,' but then realized that is a term of tenderness. Something he wanted her to work for, from here on out.
Her mouth made a popping sound as she pulled off his nut-sack and looked up at him. The longing in her eyes spoke volumes before she spoke a word. "Yes baby." She said softly with longing in her voice. "You know I do. I love it when you tell me how much you love me. How much you want me and need me."
