TABOO TALES(erotica)

Becoming more anxious, she tore the cover and sheets off the bed and ripped her clothing out of the dresser. Increasingly desperate, she swept all the items off the closet shelves.

Alarmed, she returned to the kitchen and started yanking open the drawers, spilling their contents onto the countertop. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw the edge of the book peering out from behind an appliance. Thrilled, she hugged the diary to herself, only then realizing how wet she was from tension, how the base of her leotard had ridden into her ass crack.NôvelDrama.Org owns this text.

Matt had spent the week planning and organizing. He thought that an extra letter should be added to BDSM: H, for Humiliation. When he arrived at home, he seemed more mature to his mother-more sexual and in command-than before. She abruptly moved the diary behind her back, trying to hide her excitement and nervousness upon seeing him again. “Hello, Mother.” Even his voice sounded deeper. He briefly kissed her cheek and hugged her. “Good trip?”

“It was-all right,” she stammered. He waited. “I, I missed you.”

“Is that all?” He stared intensely, his eyes drilling into her hypnotically, demandingly.

“Ummm, I felt. . . guilty.” She squirmed in the silence. “Guilty for being on vacation when you were not.”

“You should feel guilty,” he agreed. “What would make you not feel guilty?”

Her pussy creamed, wetting the already damp leotard. “Being disciplined, I guess.”

“And how do you deserve to be punished?” He watched her nipples harden into the leotard.

“I-I don’t know. . . Whatever you think.”

“Should we make you strip right now?”

“Only, only if you insist. . .”

“Or should I spank you with a kitchen tool?”

“Uhhh. . . I suppose,” she said, shuffling her feet in excitement.

“Or maybe make you kneel and cover your face and tits with cum?” She gulped, unconsciously licking her lips with the memory of his hot, sweet semen.

“No, I don’t think we’ll do any of those punishments.”

Surprised and disappointed, she whimpered “No?”

“No. To compensate for a week’s vacation in the Caribbean, you need something new and much more severe.”

“Ohh. . .” she said, wonderingly.

“When did you get back?”

“An hour ago, honey.”

“You’ve been back only an hour and you’ve already made a mess out of a clean kitchen, a kitchen which you left a mess?”

She looked around her. “Yes, I did a bad thing.”

“You know I get home this same time every Friday, yet dinner’s not even begun.” She had never heard him use such a severe tone before. “Even though I’ve been working all day while you’ve been vacationing. Even though you’ve been home for an hour.”

She hung her head, ashamed. “I swear I’ll make it up to you. But I’m so tired today. I’d like to go to bed right after dinner. If that’s okay with you?”

“Yes, you will make it up to me,” he agreed. “Did you wear that leotard on the plane?”

“Of course not. I went straight to the gym from the airport. But after my workout, I didn’t do my stretches because I had to come home.”

“Go change and then make dinner. Maybe I’ll help you stretch after dinner.” She was surprised since he’d never before indicated much interest in her yoga. Matt had no idea where this new, authoritative personality kept coming from, but it felt natural and he liked it. Janice nodded.

“Mother, things can’t continue as they were before.”

She panicked. “What do you mean?”

“I no longer think you’re ever going to stop being anything other than a bad mother, making mistakes, being forgetful, resisting my orders, being slow to obey, and so on. So there are going to be a number of changes around here. You will be disciplined more firmly than ever, at least once, if not twice a day. I will tell you exactly what clothing you may wear at home. Soon your lovely skin will wear marks, front and rear. And you will accommodate all of my . . . personal needs. I am the master of this household.

“Understand?” he repeated strictly.

“Yes, Matthew,” she replied, relieved to feel her breasts and nipples tingling from this list of subjugation.

She turned her back to leave, forgetting she’d been holding the diary behind her back. “Mother, what were you trying to hide behind your back?”

“Oh!” she exclaimed. What an idiot she was! She stared down at the diary, her back still turned to him. “Umm, it’s . . . it’s just a recipe book.”

“I see. . . it’s a ‘recipe book.’ Then leave it here. Recipe books belong in the kitchen.” She hesitated, motionless, struck with panic.

“I said leave it here.” Grabbing her wrists with one hand, he forcibly pulled the book out of her hands and set it on the plastic bookstand on the counter that held books so you could follow a recipe while cooking. “I’m home for two minutes, you left your bedroom a mess, you’ve made the kitchen a mess, and then you don’t do what I ask you. Do you think you deserve to be disciplined?” After a long moment, her body tingling, she nodded her head, sweat running down her spine.

“You can go,” he said.

“Yes, Matthew.” Reluctantly, as if in a dream, she trudged out of the kitchen, burning with shame. She was definitely home again.

Upcoming: Janice is already familiar with the use of appliances such as air conditioners and kitchen utensils such as spatulas. Now she’s introduced to the creative use of more household items.

Tea for Two

After Matt had released his mother so she could freshen up, Janice took a quick shower, but saw no reason to get dressed again if she was going to bed right after dinner. She wore a thin, black cotton robe that came to mid-thigh, tied carelessly. Underneath was the same set of sheer panties and baby doll that had been torn by the air conditioner. She prepared one of Matt’s favorite meals, nervously aware of the closed diary on the counter. While cooking, she left an old, chipped plate on the edge of the counter. Sure enough, ten minutes later her elbow knocked it off, in full view of Matt. “Aren’t you going to discipline me?”

“Yes, but only when I’m good and ready.”

During dinner, she rarely looked at him, and when she did, it was only for a moment. She was buzzing with excitement. It had been an eternity since he’d last corrected her, before her vacation. Matt was preoccupied, assembling their agenda. Secretly, he was pleased at her transparent maneuver, pretending to inadvertently break a plate that he knew was already chipped. Considering all the punishments she had lined up, first for going off on vacation, then for making a mess of the kitchen, and finally for being late with dinner, she must be craving humiliation and discipline for her to break a dish.

First, he’d warm her up with a little breast discipline. Then, he’d actually beat her tits. As for below the waist? She’d taken his makeshift cigar tube dildo up her cunt, and he’d jerked off in her ass crack, but she’d never taken an anal dildo inserted by him.

It was a particularly stifling summer evening, and she was perspiring. “It’s boiling,” he said. “Why don’t you take off your robe?”

“I-I can’t. I’m going to bed right after dinner so I’m only wearing my baby doll.”

“So? You know I like it. Don’t talk back to me,” he warned.

“But it’s ripped.”

“I don’t care.”

“But it’s torn where . . . my breasts are.”

“Mother, I’m not going to tell you again.” She sat there, a look of consternation on her face. She desperately wanted to please him, but felt it was degrading to be sitting at dinner with her own son, exposing herself like a slut.

Before she could decide, Matt shoved his chair back, stood behind her and pulled the robe off her shoulders and down the back of the chair to the level of her elbows, constricting her arms and hands. “I’m going to teach you a lesson so you stop being so careless, breaking things.” Her face turned scarlet, feeling both shame and arousal coursing through her. He actually thought he saw the dark nipple growing larger and longer, with more of it poking through the jagged rip. He sat down and enjoyed the sight of his lovely mother, partly bound and partly nude, eating dinner with him. She had just enough slack to awkwardly feed herself by leaning forward. It was extremely humiliating.