Let's see this trope played out from a different perspective.
The room was dark, the kind of darkness that swallowed sound and left only the faint hum of silence. Claire lay in bed, her breath shallow, her body still save for the gentle rise and fall of her chest. She had been asleep—or at least, she thought she had, her mind had been circling over and over again about issues at work, making sleep difficult—when the sound of soft footsteps stirring reached her ears. Her eyelids fluttered, but she didn’t open them. The footsteps stopped beside her bed, and then she heard it. His voice, her 18-year-old son, Derek’s voice, was unmistakable, a low, deliberate whisper.
“I am your master. You will obey my every command.”
Her heart skipped, then hammered in her chest. She forced herself to remain still, her face slack, her body limp. What was he doing? She could feel the weight of his presence beside her bed, the heat of his gaze on her. She was about to ask him this question aloud when he spoke again.
“Every time I command you, you will reply with ‘Yes, Master.’”
What the hell? Was he trying to hypnotize her in her sleep? Did he think that would actually work? What did he want now? A new car? A new computer? Again she was about to speak up when he spoke first.
“You are sexually attracted to me.”
The words hung in the air, heavy and charged. Claire’s stomach twisted, a mix of shock and disbelief. A shiver started at the base of her spine and crawled upward. Her fingers twitched involuntarily, but she didn’t move. She couldn’t. Not yet. Her mind raced. How long had he felt this way? How long had he been doing this?
Before she could process the questions, she felt it—the gentle brush of his fingers against her thigh. Her breath caught, but she stayed quiet, her body rigid. His touch was tentative at first, as if he were tracing the outline of something sacred.
“I am your master. You will obey my every command. Every time I command you, you will reply with ‘Yes, Master.’ You are sexually attracted to me.” He repeated the words over and over again, gently caressing her thigh. The hairs all over her body stood on end. What should she do? Hopefully, he would stop soon and leave and she could think about how to best deal with this.
Then, slowly, his hand slid higher, the tips of his fingers grazing the sensitive skin just below her underwear.
Her pulse quickened, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it. She should stop him. She should. But she didn’t. Instead, she lay there, feigning sleep, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Shock. Fear. And beneath it all, a slow, insidious heat that coiled in her lower belly that she ignored.
“I am your master,” he whispered again, his voice barely audible. “You will obey my every command.”
His hand pressed against her thigh, gently but firmly pushing her legs apart. A tiny gasp escaped her lips before she could stifle it. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and yet…aroused. The realization shocked her, but she couldn’t deny it. It had been so long since any man had touched her that even this was turning her on. Oh, God. She needed to get laid. You know it's bad when your own son molesting you in your sleep turns you on.
His fingers brushed against the fabric of her panties, and she had to bite down on the inside of her cheek to keep from reacting. He hesitated for a moment, as if testing her, waiting for her to wake up, to push him away. But she didn’t. She couldn’t.
“You’re mine, Mother,” he murmured, his voice thick with something she couldn’t quite place. “All mine.”
His fingers pressed against her again, this time more insistently, rubbing over her slit through the thin barrier of her panties. Claire’s breath quickened, her chest rising and falling in shallow bursts. She could feel the dampness between her legs, the slick heat that betrayed her arousal. Her thighs trembled, but she forced them to remain still, her body tense with the effort of maintaining the facade.
“You want this,” he whispered, his voice low and hypnotic. “You need this.”
His fingers circled her clit lightly, the pressure maddeningly gentle. Claire’s toes curled, her body betraying her as a soft moan escaped her lips. She should clamp her legs shut, to stop him before it went too far, but she couldn’t. It was true. She did want this. She did need this.
Her son—her sweet, innocent boy—was touching her in a way no one had in years. And it felt good.
The thought sent a jolt of shame through her, but the shame just made it that much more exciting, that much more delicious. His touch, his words, the taboo of it all—it was intoxicating. His fingers pressed harder, moving in slow, deliberate circles that made her clench her fists in the sheets.
“I am your master. You will obey my every command. Every time I command you, you will reply with ‘Yes, Master.’ You are sexually attracted to me.”
His pace quickened, his fingers rubbing her harder, faster. Claire’s hips bucked involuntarily, her body arching into his touch despite her best efforts to stay still. She could feel the orgasm building, a tight coil of pressure ready to snap.
“Oh God,” she whimpered, the sound slipping out before she could stop it.
Her son’s hand stilled for a moment, and Claire froze, her heart pounding. Had he heard her? Would he stop? But then his fingers resumed their relentless rhythm, and she could hear the faint sound of his breathing, shallow and uneven, as if he were just as lost in the moment as she was.
The coil inside her tightened, her body trembling on the edge of release. She bit down on her lip, stifling the moan that threatened to escape, but it was no use. Her thighs clamped around his hand as the orgasm hit her, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over her, leaving her breathless and trembling.
She lay there, panting, as her son slowly withdrew his hand. She heard him shift, the sound of clothing rustling, and then the rhythmic sound of his hand moving over his cock. Her cheeks burned, but she remained still, her body limp and boneless.
Then she felt it—the hot spatter of his cum hitting her thighs. She bit down on a whimper, her body shivering at the sensation.
“I am your master. You will obey my every command. Every time I command you, you will reply with ‘Yes, Master.’ You are sexually attracted to me,” He said again, his voice a hoarse whisper.
He cleaned her gently with a towel, his touch tender, before he stood and quietly left the room.
The moment the door clicked shut, Claire’s eyes flew open. She stared at the ceiling, her chest heaving, her mind a storm of thoughts and emotions. She should feel guilty. She should feel ashamed. But all she felt was…hunger.
Her hand slid between her legs, her fingers slipping through the wetness still clinging to her skin. She began to touch herself, her movements desperate and hurried, as if trying to recapture the pleasure he had given her.
What have I done? she thought, even as her body arched into her own touch. What have we done?
*****
The morning light filtered through the curtains, but Claire barely noticed. Her body still tingled with the memory of Derek’s touch, her mind a swirl of confusion and anticipation. She sat at the breakfast table, her coffee untouched, her eyes darting to him every few seconds.
"Toast?" he asked, holding up a slice with butter dripping off the edge. She blinked, snapping out of her daze. "Huh? Oh, yeah. Thanks."
He handed it to her, his fingers brushing against hers for the briefest moment. A jolt of electricity raced through her, and she nearly dropped the toast. Did he notice? His face gave nothing away—just that easy, carefree smile he always wore.
"You okay, Mom? You seem... distracted."
Her heart slammed against her ribs. "Just tired. Didn’t sleep well."
He nodded, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. "Alright. Don’t forget to eat something, yeah?"
She forced a smile. "I won’t."
The door closed behind him, and Claire exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her legs shook as she stood, forcing herself to move toward her bedroom. Each step felt heavy, her need pressing against her like a physical weight. She didn’t bother locking the door—what was the point? Her hands trembled as she unbuttoned her slacks, shoving them down along with her panties before collapsing onto the bed.
"God, Derek," she whispered, her fingers diving into her slit. The wetness there coated her skin, slick and ready. Her hips lifted off the mattress as she plunged two fingers inside, her thumb circling her clit in fast, desperate strokes. She bit her lip to stifle a moan, her body writhing on the sheets. Her mind replayed the night before—his voice, low and commanding, his fingers rubbing her through her panties, the way he’d said You’re mine. Her walls clenched around her fingers, and she came with a muffled cry, her thighs quivering.
At work, it was no better. Every idle moment sent her thoughts spiraling back to him—the feel of his hands, the heat of his cum on her thighs. In the middle of a particularly vivid daydream, she startled, realizing she’d been staring blankly at her computer screen for who knows how long.
She got up and closed and locked her office door and closed her blinds. She returned to her desk and yanked down her slacks and underwear, her fingers immediately finding their target. "Yes, yes," she hissed, biting her lip as she rubbed her clit furiously. The orgasm hit her hard, leaving her knees shaking as she slouched in her chair, panting.
By the time she got home, late as usual, she was a mess of arousal and guilt.
Derek was in the kitchen, humming as he heated leftovers. "Hey, Mom!" he called, turning to her with a grin. "Want some pasta?"
She forced a smile, though she could barely meet his eyes. "Sure."
They sat across from each other at the table, and Claire studied him while pretending not to. His posture was relaxed, his movements natural. Was he faking it? Or had she imagined everything?
"You’re quiet," he said between bites. "Headache again?"
She nodded, gripping her fork tighter. "Yeah. Just one of those days."
After dinner, he retreated to his room to study, and Claire did the same. As soon as her bedroom door clicked shut, she stripped off her clothes and lay back on the bed. Her fingers found her clit almost immediately, slow and teasing at first, then frantic as the need took over. "Derek," she gasped, her hips bucking off the mattress. She came several times, each orgasm more intense than the last, until she was a trembling, sweat-soaked wreck.
When bedtime finally arrived, she paused outside his door, her nightgown clinging to her damp skin. She knocked lightly. "Good night, honey. I going to take some sleeping pills and go to bed. Don't stay up too late."
"Night, Mom," he replied without looking up from his textbook. "Feel better."
Back in her room, she slipped under the covers, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it from across the house. Would he come to her again? Or had it all been a figment of her sex-starved imagination, some twisted fantasy conjured by years of loneliness? She closed her eyes, feigning sleep, her body tense with anticipation.
The minutes dragged on, each one stretching into an eternity as Claire lay in bed, her body taut with anticipation. The house was silent, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the walls settling. She listened intently, her ears straining for the sound of footsteps, for any indication that Derek was coming. Her heart raced, her breath shallow as she clutched the sheets, her body both dreading and yearning for his touch.
Finally, she heard it—the soft creak of the floorboards in the hallway, her pulse quickening as the sound grew closer. The door opened with a faint click, and there he was. Derek. Her son. His shadow loomed over her bed, his presence both familiar and foreign, comforting and electrifying.
“I am your master,” he whispered, his voice low and deliberate. “You will obey my every command. Every time I command you, you will reply with ‘Yes, Master.’ You are sexually attracted to me.”
Claire’s body trembled, but she forced herself to remain still, her face slack, her breathing even. His hand brushed against her thigh, the touch tentative at first, then bolder, his fingers tracing small, deliberate circles on her skin.
Yes, Master, she thought, the words echoing in her mind, unbidden, unwanted, and yet somehow…right. She could feel the dampness between her legs, the slick heat of her arousal. His fingers moved higher, slipping beneath the hem of her nightgown, and brushing against the fabric of her panties. Claire’s breath caught, her stomach tightening as she fought the urge to arch into his touch.
“I am your master,” he repeated, his voice a husky murmur. “You will obey my every command. Every time I command you, you will reply with ‘Yes, Master.’ You are sexually attracted to me.” His fingers pressed against her slit, rubbing her through her panties, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through her body. Claire bit down on the inside of her cheek to stifle a moan, her hips twitching involuntarily.
His touch grew firmer, his fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles against her clit. The pressure was maddening, her body trembling on the edge of release. She could feel his arousal pressed against the side of her thigh, hard and insistent, and the thought of what he was doing sent a fresh wave of heat through her.
“You’re mine, Mother,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire. “You’re going to cum for me.”
Claire’s breath quickened, her chest rising and falling in shallow gasps. The coil inside her tightened, her body betraying her as she neared the edge. Her thighs clenched around his hand, her back arching off the mattress as the orgasm crashed over her, wave after wave of pleasure leaving her boneless and trembling.
Derek’s breath was ragged as he pulled his hand away, standing beside the bed. Claire heard the faint rustle of clothing as he stroked himself. Moments later, she felt the hot spatter of his cum hitting her thighs, the sensation sending another shiver through her.
Once again, he cleaned her gently—lovingly—with a towel before quietly leaving the room.
The moment the door clicked shut, Claire’s eyes flew open. Her hand slid between her legs, her fingers slipping through the wetness still clinging to her skin. She touched herself furiously, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Shock. Guilt. And beneath it all, an insatiable hunger that refused to be ignored.
What am I doing? she thought, even as her body writhed on the sheets. Do I stop him? Or do I keep pretending? Do I want him to know how much I love it?
The questions swirled in her mind, but for now, there were no answers—only the need, raw and relentless, consuming her from the inside out.
*****
The morning light streamed through the kitchen windows, bright and relentless. Claire sat at the table, her fingers wrapped around a cup of lukewarm coffee that she hadn’t touched. The warmth had long since seeped out, but she hadn’t moved to reheat it. Her eyes tracked Derek as he moved around the kitchen with his usual ease—grabbing a bowl, pouring cereal, humming some upbeat pop song under his breath.
Her stomach twisted. The normalcy of it all was suffocating. His smile when he slid into the chair across from her was so casual, so ordinary, that it made her chest ache.
“Morning, Mom!” he chirped, his spoon already halfway to his mouth.
Claire forced a smile, her cheeks tight. “Morning,” she managed, her voice catching in her throat. She stared down at her coffee, the dark liquid rippling slightly as her hand trembled. Her gaze flicked up to his hands—his long, nimble fingers wrapping effortlessly around the spoon. Memories of last night surged unbidden: those same fingers sliding over her thighs, pressing against her panties, coaxing her orgasm from her veins. Heat flooded her chest, spreading lower.
She shifted in her seat, crossing her legs tightly underneath the table. Her skin felt too sensitive, her thoughts too loud. Did he know? Could he see it in her face, in the way her body betrayed her? God, what if he could tell she’d been lying there awake, soaking in every second of it?
“You okay?” He tilted his head, brow furrowing just slightly as he studied her. “You seem... off.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs. Did he sound concerned? Or was there something else beneath his tone—something knowing, testing her reaction? Panic bubbled up, but she pushed it down, forcing another smile. Maybe a bit too wide, a bit too brittle.
“Just tired,” she lied, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. “Didn’t sleep well.”
He nodded, lifting another spoonful of cereal to his lips. “Me neither,” he said casually, the words hanging in the air like a threat. And yet, his expression gave nothing away.
Claire froze, her pulse thundering in her ears. Was he playing with her? Teasing her with double meanings? Or had that meant nothing—just an innocuous comment from a boy who didn’t know she’d lay awake most of the night, craving his touch?
Her fingers tightened around the coffee mug until they hurt. She needed air. She needed escape. But most of all, she needed him to stop looking at her with that wide-eyed innocence, as if he hadn’t whispered filthy promises into her ear in the dead of night—“I am your master. You will reply with ‘Yes, Master.’” Had he meant any of it? Or had it all been a game, a sick fantasy he was acting out while he thought she slept, oblivious?
“Ready for your exam today?” she asked, desperate to banish the silence, to distract herself from the tightening arousal coiling in her gut.
“Yeah, I think so.” He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “It’s not until 11, so I’ve got time to review.”
His calmness infuriated her. How could he be so nonchalant after what he’d done? After the things he’d said, the way he’d touched her, used her like she was his property. The shame burned hot in her chest, but it couldn’t extinguish the heat building between her thighs. What was wrong with her? Why did the thought of being his—his sex slave—turn her on so much?
Derek stood abruptly, grabbing his empty bowl and carrying it to the sink. The clatter of dishes filled the kitchen as he rinsed it, his back turned to her. Claire’s eyes traced the line of his shoulders, the way his shirt clung to his frame. She remembered the feel of his weight beside her bed, the heat of his stare in the darkness. What if he commanded her now? Right here, right this second—would she obey? Would she say it? Would she drop to her knees for him and call him—
“Don’t forget to take care of yourself, Mom,” he called suddenly, tossing the towel onto the counter and turning to her with that same easy grin. “You look stressed. That job is going to kill you if you let it. You need to find a way to let off some steam.”
Her stomach dropped. Was he mocking her? Testing her limits? She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. He lingered for a moment, then grabbed his backpack and headed for the door. “See you later!”
As soon as the door clicked shut, Claire exhaled a ragged breath, slumping against the table. Her legs shook; she couldn’t stay here, couldn’t sit still another second. She snatched her coffee mug and dumped its contents down the sink, her thoughts spiraling. Tonight. Would he come again? Would she let him? Did she even want to stop him?
Her hand brushed against her thigh where his cum had hit her hours ago—where he’d cleaned her gently afterward, lovingly. Her breathing quickened, her hands shaking slightly. God, she was losing control. She could barely keep herself together for five minutes alone with him. What would happen when he returned home tonight? What would he do next? And the worst part—the damning truth clawing at the edges of her mind—was how badly she wanted to find out.
Claire bolted to her room, slamming the door behind her. Her trembling fingers shoved down her skirt and panties before she even hit the bed. Her hand dove between her legs, finding her clit already swollen and slick. "Derek," she moaned, her body arching off the mattress as she worked herself furiously. Images of him flooded her mind—his voice, low and commanding, his cum spilling hot onto her thighs. The orgasm hit her hard, leaving her breathless and sweaty, but it wasn’t enough. It never was.
At work, Claire barely pretended to focus. Instead, she opened an incognito tab on her phone and typed slowly: sleeping hypnosis subliminal suggestion sex. The results were a mix of pseudo-science and porn. She sifted through it, looking for anything that sounded even semi-plausible. It was all just mumbo-jumbo nonsense to her. And even if she accepted the more legitimate sources, the de***********ions of hypnosis and subliminal messaging were nothing like what Derek had been doing at night. Eventually, she found herself going down the rabbit hole of porn and erotica sites. Her heart pounded as she scrolled through page after page of mother/son erotica. Each story described scenarios eerily similar to hers.
She closed her eyes. There was no hypnosis involved here. These were human scenarios, played by horndog guys and sex-starved ladies alike. It was all just fantasy. It was clear reading things like this is indeed where he'd gotten the idea.
That realization should have brought relief. Instead, it consumed her. Her feelings were her own. It would have been so convenient to blame mind control and enjoy the illicit pleasures it brought while avoiding moral responsibility.
She kept reading. Her cheeks burned with shame and arousal as she read, her fingers discreetly sneaking under her desk to stroke herself. She imagined herself as the woman in each story, helpless to resist the commands of her new master, made to do more and more lewd and shameful acts. Her fingers dug into her pussy under her skirt as she climaxed again and again while reading.
An email notification popped up on her desktop computer, jolting her back to reality. She slammed her phone face-down on her desk, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The rest of the day was filled with meetings and calls, every one of them a fire that needed to be put out by her. But the real fire that she needed to put out, the one inside of her, just blazed hotter as the day wore on.
Claire returned home late that evening, her mind still swirling with the forbidden images from the stories she’d read earlier. She found Derek in the kitchen, humming as he stirred a pot of pasta on the stove. His casual demeanor was maddening—didn’t he feel the tension between them? Or was it all in her head?
“Dinner’s almost ready,” he said without looking up.
She nodded silently, taking her seat at the table. Her legs bounced beneath it, her thoughts consumed by fantasies of him commanding her, using her however he pleased. The vividness of it all set her nerves on edge, her body thrumming with restless energy.
They sat across from each other, plates in front of them. Claire picked at her food, unable to focus. Every time her eyes flicked to his hands—his long, deft fingers wrapped around his fork—her stomach tightened with desire. What if those hands touched her right now? What if he leaned across the table and—
“Hey, can you pass the salt?” Derek asked casually.
Her brain short-circuited. “Yes, Master,” she blurted out before she could stop herself. Her hand froze mid-air, the salt shaker clutched tightly.
There was a beat of silence, heavy and suffocating.
Her cheeks burned as realization crashed over her. She dared a glance at Derek. His eyes were wide, fork hovering halfway to his mouth, his lips parted in shock. But there was something else too—something coiled and predatory behind his gaze. Excitement. Lust.
Claire’s heart raced, her body trembling as she stared at her plate. She couldn’t believe she’d said it. Yet part of her—a deep, insidious part—flooded with gratifying relief to see the effect her words had on him.
“Mom...” His voice was low, tentative. “Look at me.”
Slowly, she raised her eyes, her breath shallow. “Y-yes, Master,” she whispered hoarsely, her voice barely audible. Was this really happening? Was she choosing this?
The uncertainty in his expression mirrored her own, but there was no mistaking the heat in his gaze. He set his fork down, leaning back in his chair. “Stand up.”
Her knees nearly gave out under her as she rose, the weight of her decision pressing down on her like a physical force. “Yes, Master.” Her voice quivered, but obedience came easier than expected.
“Take off your shirt,” he commanded, his tone hesitant yet firm.
So bold! she thought, her chest tightening as her trembling fingers began undoing the buttons of her blouse and she said, "Yes, Master." Each button felt like a step deeper into uncharted territory. She slid the shirt off her shoulders, revealing her bra-clad breasts to her son for the first time.
His eyes darkened as they roamed over her, his jaw tensing. “Now your skirt.”
“Yes, Master.” Her voice was steadier now, the submission igniting a strange sense of freedom. She stepped out of her skirt, standing before him in only her underwear, her skin prickling under his hungry stare.
“Give me a lap dance,” he ordered, his voice thick with desire.
Heart pounding, she moved toward him. “Yes, Master.”
Though she’d never danced like this before, the act seemed instinctual. Slowly, her hips swayed, her body undulating sensuously as she closed the gap between them. She turned, shaking her ass in his face, reveling in the sharp inhale he of breath he made.
When she lowered herself onto his lap, the hard length of his erection pressing against her through his pants made her gasp. Her wetness intensified, her mind blissfully blank. For once, she wasn’t torn—she knew exactly what she wanted. To be his. He groaned behind her and a thrill went through her.
Claire’s hips rolled with deliberate slowness, her body sinking deeper into the rhythm, deeper into the surrender. Every shift of her weight against his lap sent waves of heat coursing through her, her pussy dripping, her panties clinging desperately to her swollen lips. His groans were low, guttural things that vibrated against her back, each one a spark that set her nerves alight. She could feel his cock twitching beneath her, the hardness of it straining against his pants, pressing insistently against her core. The ache between her legs was unbearable, almost primal, but it paled in comparison to the ache in her chest—the need to obey, to please, to belong entirely to him.
"Stop," Derek commanded, his voice tight, rough with restraint.
Her stomach lurched, her body freezing mid-motion. Fear clawed at her throat—had she done something wrong? Was he reconsidering, ready to call an end to this intoxicating game, to send her back to the torment of her own thoughts? Slowly, reluctantly, she rose from his lap, her thighs trembling, her breath uneven. She faced him, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, her body thrumming with unspent energy.
"Yes, Master," she whispered, the words trembling on her lips.
She stood before him, half-exposed in her bra and panties, her skin prickling under his gaze. Time seemed to stretch, every second an eternity as she waited for his next command. Her pussy throbbed, needy and slick, her mind a chaotic whirl of dread and desperate hope.
He rose from the chair, his eyes dark, predatory. Fierce.
"Kiss me," he said, his voice low, commanding.
Relief and excitement surged through her, so intense it left her breathless, her chest constricting. Her lips parted, her body trembling as she barely managed to choke out the words, "Yes, Master."
Their lips crashed together, hungry, desperate, as if they’d been starved for this moment. His hands tangled in her hair, pressing her closer, while hers roamed over his chest, his shoulders, mapping the contours of his body with trembling urgency. His tongue slid against hers, deepening the kiss until it was all she could do to keep up. The taste of him, the heat of him, overwhelmed her senses, her mind melting into a haze of lust and submission.
When he finally pulled back, his breath was ragged, his chest heaving. Her heart pounded. Her body thrummed with need, already craving his touch again.
"Pull down my pants," he ordered, his voice trembling with the urgency of his desire.
"Yes, Master." Claire’s hands moved at once, gripping the waistband of his pants and underwear in a single motion. Without hesitation, she yanked them down, his cock springing free, hard and thick, glistening with precum at the tip. Her mouth watered at the sight, her pussy clenching in anticipation, her need for him so intense it felt like a physical ache.
Was she to blow him? Or have him fuck her? She didn’t know which she wanted more, which she needed more. The uncertainty was thrilling, the thrill of submission, letting him decide, letting him take control. The possibilities maddened her and sent her heart racing.
"Blow me," he commanded, his voice thick with desire.
Her lips curled into a wicked grin as she replied, "Yes, Master," eagerly. The words were barely out before she leaned forward, taking the head of his cock into her mouth, the taste of salt and heat bursting on her tongue. She sucked gently at first, her lips tracing the sensitive ridge, her tongue swirling around the tip. His groan sent a thrill through her, her fingers tightening on his thighs as she took him deeper, her mouth stretching to accommodate his size. Her pussy throbbed, her arousal a constant thrumming beat as she moved her lips up and down his length, each stroke sending shivers of pleasure roaring to every corner of her body.
Hands trembling with need, Derek held her head steady, fingers threading through her hair as he guided her rhythm, his hips rocking gently into her mouth. She met each thrust eagerly, her eyes closed, her mind consumed by nothing but the taste of him, the smell of him, and the way his body tensed and trembled with each moment.
She didn’t just want this, she needed it. Needed him. Needed to obey. Needed to free herself from decisions and stress and guilt and just let herself go, to give control to another, to her son, to the center of her life.
Without warning, Derek’s hips bucked sharply, his cock jerking deep in her mouth as his orgasm hit. Hot, thick cum surged onto her tongue, and Claire moaned around him, her lips sealing tightly as she swallowed greedily. The salty tang of his cum flooded her senses, a decadent indulgence that sent a jolt of giddy pleasure through her body. Some of it leaked from the corners of her lips, trickling down her chin, and she reveled in the mess, in the forbidden act of consuming him so completely.
Her eyes fluttered shut, her mind lost in the heat of the moment as she continued to suck him through the aftershocks, her lips working over his tender, twitching cock. Derek groaned above her, his thighs trembling, his hands tightening in her hair as he fought to stay upright. Claire loved it—the way his body reacted to her, the little shivers of overstimulation that made his cock pulse weakly in her mouth.
“God, Mom,” he rasped, his voice rough and broken.
She didn’t stop. Her tongue swirled around his softening length, savoring the lingering taste of him, the way his body quivered beneath her touch. He was hypersensitive now, flinching every time her lips grazed him, but she didn’t let up. She lapped at him, kissed him, and worshiped him with a fervor that bordered on desperation. It felt right—this submission, this raw, unfiltered devotion to him.
As his cock grew soft, she finally pulled back, a dazed smile curving her lips. She swiped a finger along her chin, collecting the stray cum and bringing it to her lips, licking it clean with a slow, deliberate swipe of her tongue. Derek watched her, his breath still ragged, his eyes dark lust.
Claire knew this was wrong, that she should feel ashamed, but all she felt was a deep, insatiable hunger—for him, for the way he made her feel, for the way he commanded her, for the way she could free herself of all responsibilities and worries and just submit herself to his pleasure.
She belonged to him now, and there was no turning back.
"Now strip," Derek commanded, his voice low and steady, filled with a confidence that sent shivers down Claire’s spine.
“Yes, Master,” she said without hesitation, her voice trembling with anticipation. Her fingers moved quickly, unclasping her bra and letting it fall to the floor. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and slid them down, stepping out of them with a soft, shuddering breath. Naked now, she stood before him, her body exposed, her skin flushed with heat. Her nipples hardened under the cool air, and she could feel the slickness between her legs growing with every passing second.
"Lie on the table now. Bend over it," Derek instructed. A thrill of excitement surged through her as Claire almost ran to do his bidding. She arched her back, prostrating herself across the cool, smooth surface of the table, her legs spreading wide, an unspoken invitation for Derek to take her there.
“Yes, Master,” Claire whispered, her voice breathless. She turned her face slightly toward Derek, her eyes pleading. "What are you going to do, Master?" she asked as Derek knelt behind her. She blushed heavily after saying that, the uncertainty, the power difference excited her to her limits.
The first brush of his fingers against her slick folds made her jolt, her clit throbbing with anticipation. She gasped, biting her lip as he parted her labia, exposing her dripping pussy to him. When his tongue flicked against her entrance, Claire whimpered, her hips jerking involuntarily. His stiff tongue was cautious at first, awkwardly exploring her most delicate parts. But as he grew more familiar with her body, his confidence soared.
His tongue moved faster now, sliding along her slit, lapping at her juices greedily. His lips closed around her clit, sucking gently but firmly, forcing her toes to curl and her breath to catch in her throat.
"Good girl," he murmured against her flesh, the words sending a wave of warmth through her, igniting a fire deep in her core. She trembled, clamping her thighs tightly around his shoulders, needing more, needing him deeper.
"Derek—" she gasped, her voice breaking as his tongue delved inside her, teasing her entrance. Her body was on fire, every nerve ending screaming for release. Her hips rocked against his face, desperate for him to drive her over the edge.
Her orgasm built quickly, a tight coil of pleasure ready to snap. When it hit her, it was overwhelming—waves of ecstasy crashed around her, her body trying to milk his tongue as she spasmed on the table, shaking and quivering as pleasure surged.
But he didn’t stop. Wet sounds of licking and sucking filled the room as Derek continued his worship, sending sparks quaking through her most delicate insides. Her fingers were digging into the table, while her chest heaved. Her back arched, thrashing from the continued stimulation of her spasming vagina. More. More. She had never known this much pleasure as her climax went on and on.
"Master—oh God, Master!" she cried, her voice pleading for him to stop yet begging silently for more as she lost herself to the sheer magnitude of it all.
Her legs began shaking uncontrollably and a second orgasm hit her even as the aftershocks of the first were still rumbling through her. Her vision went white and she screamed. Her legs came off the floor and she curled around the table, her stomach cramping as her core spasmed powerfully. A sensation similar to pissing, yet with a force she had never before felt, tore through her vagina and she heard a wet splash against the tiled floor. Oh, god! Had she just pissed herself? Her vagina continued to pulse and more liquid spurted out of her, the pleasure overwhelmingly intense with each release.
Finally, with a long moan and shudder she stilled, limp on the table, her core still quivering.
"Holy shit, Mom. You just squirted so much! I didn't know that was a real thing!"
"Neither did I, Derek sweetie," she murmured weakly into the table.
"God, I want to fuck you so bad, Mom," he said.
She looked back at him. He stood behind her, stiff cock in hand. Her pussy clenched at the thought of him thrusting inside her. She wiggled her ass at him invitingly.
"Is this real?" He asked unexpectedly.
Why wasn't he fucking her already? "Master, please," she begged, wiggling for him again.
"Mom. Is this really what you want or is this just the hypnosis?"
No! Why did he have to break the fantasy? She needed his cock so bad!
She looked at his eyes. They were filled with uncertainty, but also love and concern for her. Her heart melted even as reality returned to her like a slap in the face. She supposed they did need to talk about what all this meant, what they each wanted out of this. She didn't want regrets and guilt to ruin what they had, what they could have.
Claire’s legs wobbled as she pushed herself up from the table, her thighs slick with arousal, her body throbbing with the aftershocks of what Derek had just done to her. She turned and faced him, her skin flushed, her breathing shallow but steady. The air between them crackled, heavy with unspoken questions, with the weight of what they’d just entered into. She stepped closer, her bare feet pressing against the cool tiles, until she stood directly in front of him. Her hands rose tentatively, trembling slightly as they settled on his shoulders. His bare skin was warm under her fingertips, her palms tingling where they met his flesh.
Her eyes locked onto his, deep and searching, filled with a determination that surprised even herself. “Derek,” she began, her voice low but unwavering despite the storm raging inside her chest. “Hypnosis isn’t real. I was awake the past two nights when you came to me.” Her words hung in the air, raw and exposed.
He froze, his breath catching in his throat, his hands hovering near her hips, uncertain. He searched her face, his eyes wide with confusion and disbelief. She pressed on, her heart pounding so loudly she could feel it echoing in her ears.
“This is me,” she said, her hand tightening briefly on his shoulder. “This is what I want.”
His lips parted, a soft exhale escaping him, but no words followed. She could see his mind racing, parsing her confession, processing what it meant for both of them. Her thumb traced a small, soothing circle on his skin as she continued.
“All day at work, I have to make decisions. Every single second is full of stress, and responsibilities. I’m constantly putting out fires. It never stops.” Her gaze dropped for a moment, her fingers flexing lightly against his skin before they lifted his chin so he looked back up at her. Her voice softened but carried an intensity that demanded attention. “When I get home, all I want is to shut off my brain, and let someone else take control.”
She paused, her cheeks flaring warm. Her breathing hitched, her next words barely above a whisper. “And... I haven’t been touched—really touched—in years.” A tremor ran through her, her core clenching at the memory of his fingertips brushing her thigh in the dark, of his voice whispering promises that lit her on fire inside. “Then... you...You gave me exactly what I needed. More than you know.”
Derek swallowed hard, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His uncertainty lingered, but a spark of something new flickered in his eyes—a fierceness, a hunger that matched her own.
“I’m willing to give myself to you completely,” she whispered, her voice soft but firm. “If you’ll take me. I’ll do anything you command.”
“Anything?” he asked, his tone testing, edging on disbelief.
She grinned faintly. “Well, within reason.”
He raised an eyebrow. “How am I supposed to know what’s ‘within reason’ for you?”
Claire thought for a moment, then chuckled. “A safe word. We’ll use a safe word.”
Derek tilted his head, intrigued. “What should it be?”
Her grin widened. “‘Caillou.’”
He blinked, then burst into laughter, loud and genuine. “Caillou? That whiny little shit from the cartoon?”
Claire nodded, mock-serious. “Exactly. Go ahead, say it.”
“‘Aw, Rooosiiiieeee!’” he mimicked Caillou’s grating, high-pitched whine, dragging it out dramatically.
Claire groaned, feigning disgust. “Ugh, my pussy is shriveling up already!”
Their laughter mingled, breaking the tension. But then Derek kissed her, deep and demanding, his hands sliding around her waist. Her body ignited, her arousal roaring back to life as their tongues clashed, her need for him undeniable.
When they pulled apart, both breathless, Derek growled, “Get back on the table.”
“Yes, Master,” Claire replied, her grin laced with mischief and desire as she lay on the cool surface, spreading herself eagerly for him.
Derek hovered behind her, the heat of his body pressing into Claire’s backside. His cock, hard and throbbing, slid along the length of her slit, teasing her entrance without giving her what she needed most. She clenched her fists against the table, her hips canting backward, seeking more, craving the fullness of him inside her.
“Please, Master,” she gasped, her voice shaking with need. The words felt electric on her tongue, like a secret she’d been dying to tell, waiting for the right moment to let it out. “I need you. Please.”
“That’s not enough,” he growled, his breath hot against her ear as he leaned closer. His hand cupped her hip, pulling her back against him, his cock brushing against her clit this time. She shuddered, a whimper escaping her lips. “What do you need, Mother? Tell me.”
Claire’s cheeks burned, her body trembling with a mix of shame and arousal. She pressed her forehead against the cool table, her fingers splayed across the surface for balance. “Please, Master,” she panted, the words tumbling out in a rush, “I need your cock. I need to feel you inside me. Please, I’m begging you, fill me up. Work Mommy’s pussy for your pleasure.”
Her words didn’t feel humiliating; they felt freeing. Every syllable chipped away at the walls she’d built around herself, leaving her vulnerable, exposed, and utterly his.
Derek chuckled, his hand tightening on her hip. “Good girl,” he murmured, and with that, he thrust into her in one fluid, punishing motion, burying himself to the hilt. A sharp cry tore from Claire’s throat as she arched her back, her body stretching to accommodate him, her walls clenching around his thickness.
“YES!” she screamed, her voice echoing through the room, her hands clawing at the table for purchase. Every nerve in her body lit up with pleasure and she trembled from the overwhelming fullness inside her.
Claire’s body clenched around him as Derek stayed buried deep inside her, unmoving. The sensation was overwhelming—the fullness of him stretching her, the heat of his cock pulsing against her walls, the weight of his hands gripping her hips so possessively. Her nails scraped the table, desperate for something to ground her, but all she could feel was him. Every inch of her throbbed with need, raw and untamed, a wildfire licking through her veins.
“You’re mine now,” Derek murmured, his voice low and gravelly, sending shivers racing down her spine. His teeth grazed the nape of her neck, his breath hot against her skin. Her thighs trembled, her body screaming for more, but he held her still, refusing to let her move. “And I can do whatever I want with you.”
She whimpered, her hips instinctively rocking backward, seeking friction, release, anything to dull the ache between her legs. But his grip tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh as he kept her pinned, denying her even the slightest reprieve.
“Derek—please,” she gasped, her voice trembling, edges fraying. She barely recognized it as her own. How long had it been since someone touched her like this? Years. A lifetime. And now, here he was, her son, filling her in ways she hadn’t dared imagine until recently. The thought should have burned her with shame, but all it did was make her wetter. “I need... I need—”
“What do you need?” He asked, his lips kissing along her shoulders as he spoke.
“To feel you move,” she choked out, her thighs quivering, her pussy pulsing wildly around him.
He chuckled darkly, his breath hot on her neck. “Say it properly.”
“I...” she hesitated, her cheeks blazing. She could barely believe the words that tumbled from her lips next. “I need you to fuck my slutty pussy. Please, Master, please—”
“Better.” He pulled out agonizingly slowly, gliding his shaft out until only the tip remained nestled against her entrance. Claire made a broken sound, her hips twitching, her clit throbbing with need. Then he slammed back into her without warning, sheathing himself fully once more. Claire gasped, her body arching, her breasts pressed against the table. “Is this what you wanted?” he growled, his voice laced with dominance. “My cock owning your pussy? For me to fuck you into submission?”
Yes! That’s exactly what she wanted! “YES! Oh God, yes, Master! Oh, please fuck your mommy's slutty pussy!”
He laughed, a low, guttural sound that sent a shiver racing down Claire’s spine. His cock slid out of her agonizingly slow, inch by inch, until only the tip remained nestled at her entrance. She clenched around him instinctively, her pussy throbbing for the fullness she’d just lost. Then with equal slowness, he slid back inside her. Then another long, slow slide back out to the tip, her body quivering the whole way.
“Master... please, I need—” she gasped, her nails clawing at the table as Derek’s slow, deliberate rhythm left her trembling. Her body ached for more, her heartbeat pounding in her ears, and her mind fogged with nothing but the need for him to claim her.
"Poor Mommy," he teased, his voice dripping with mock sympathy, his hands gripping her hips tighter to keep her pinned. He leaned over her, his chest pressing into her back, his breath hot against her ear. “Must be so hard for you, isn’t it? Waiting for me to give you what you need?” His lips grazed her neck, his teeth nipping lightly at her sensitive skin. “What is it you need? Say it.”
Claire’s throat tightened, her cheeks burning, but the desperation was too much, her need too raw to hold back. “Please, fuck me harder! Use me, Master!” she begged, her voice cracking as her hips jerked against his, seeking more, deeper, anything to relieve the ache. “I’m your slut—your mommy-slut! Please, don’t stop!”
Her words sent a jolt of arousal through him, his cock twitching inside her as he groaned into the curve of her neck. "That’s right," he growled, his voice rough with lust, his rhythm quickening suddenly. He pulled back halfway and thrust into her hard, his cock slamming into her with a force that made her cry out, her body arching as he filled her completely. The slap of skin against skin echoed through the kitchen, each thrust driving her closer to the edge. "You’re mine, Mom. Take it. Take my cock."
Claire gasped, her fingers clawing at the table for purchase as he pounded into her, his cock hitting her in places she hadn’t felt in years. Her pussy clenched around him, her walls throbbing with each stroke, her clit pulsing in time with her rapid heartbeat. “Yes, yes, Master!” she moaned, her voice rising with every thrust. “Yes! Oh God, it feels so good! Fuck mommy’s pussy—harder, please—”
His pace quickened, his rhythm becoming more frantic, more desperate. She could feel the tension coiling in his body, the way his thighs trembled as he drove into her, his grip on her hips almost painful now. The heat between them was unbearable, her core tightening, her orgasm building with every thrust. She could feel it—so close, so fucking close—when suddenly, he slowed, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in with agonizing slowness.
“No—no, Master, please,” Claire sobbed, her thighs shaking, her clit throbbing with need. She tried to rock back against him, desperate for more, but he held her still, his cock buried deep but unmoving. “Please, don’t stop—don’t—”
"Beg," he commanded, his voice firm and unyielding, his hands tightening on her hips.
Claire’s mind was a haze of desperation and arousal, her body trembling as she clung to the edge of release. She could feel the tension in her core, the way her pussy pulsed around him, pleading for more, for the release he was denying her. “Please, Master, let me cum!” she gasped, her voice cracking. “I need to cum for you! I’ll do anything—please, I’ll be your mommy-slut, I’ll obey every command—just let me cum!"
He chuckled, the sound sending shivers racing down her spine. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. Then he thrust into her again, hard and deep, his cock filling her completely as his pace quickened, relentless and unyielding.
Claire screamed, her body convulsing as the first wave of her orgasm hit. Pleasure ripped through her, wave after wave of ecstasy crashing over her as she came around his cock, her walls clenching tight, milking him as he pounded into her.
But Derek wasn’t done. "I’m going to cum, Mom," he growled, his hips slamming against hers, his balls slapping against her clit with every thrust. "Beg for it. Beg for me to fill you up. Beg for me to fill your womb. Beg for me to breed you."
Her eyes widened, pleasure and panic warring in her chest. Oh, god! He wanted to make her pregnant?! The thought both thrilled her and terrified her. "Derek, wait. I don't think we should—"
"Say it!" he commanded, his voice sharp, dominant.
Tears streamed down her face as the intensity overwhelmed her. Oh, God! He was going to make her pregnant! What had she let herself get into?!
She almost said the safeword. She almost stopped this before it got out of hand. But she couldn't, any more than she could stop him when he first entered her room in the middle of the night. Just like the thought of submitting to him had driven her wild with lust, now the thought of him breeding her drove her to new heights of desire.
She looked over her shoulder, locking eyes with her son, her master. "Please, Master! Cum inside me! Fill my womb! Breed me! Make me your mommy slut, your breeding whore!" Her words sent her over the edge again, her body clenching wildly as her most intense orgasm tore through her, her pussy pulsing against his cock, milking him as he pounded into her. She was dimly aware of his grunts, the way his rhythm faltered, the way his body shuddered as he buried himself deep inside her and came with a groan, his cock pulsing as he filled her with his cum.
"Your pussy’s mine now," Derek growled, spurt after spurt of his cum flooding her, sticky and warm, the sound of her needy, desperate moans filling the kitchen. Claire trembled, overwhelmed, as he stayed buried inside her, his cock's pulse slowing as he emptied himself into her. She belonged to him now—body, mind, and soul.
For a moment, they stayed like that, trembling and gasping, the weight of what they’d done washing over them. Claire’s mind was blank, her body boneless as Derek slowly pulled out of her, his cum dripping down her thighs. She turned her head to look at him, her chest heaving, her heart pounding in her ears. His face was flushed, his hair damp with sweat. God, how she loved him, both as her boyish son and now as her strong, handsome lover.
“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice rough with satisfaction.
Claire’s heart swelled, her body tingling with the aftershocks of their passion. She knew this was wrong, that she should feel guilty, but all she felt was a deep, overwhelming sense of belonging—to him, to this, to the new relationship they started. She was his, completely and utterly, and there was no turning back.
Claire lay on the kitchen table, her body still trembling, her thighs sticky with Derek’s cum. Her mind was a whirlwind—guilt, exhilaration, fear, and a raw, unshakable desire. The thought of pregnancy terrified her, but it also sent a thrill through her veins, a dark, forbidden excitement she couldn’t deny. She had begged him for it. Begged her own son to fill her, to breed her, to claim her entirely. And now, as his warmth dripped from her, she felt a strange sense of peace, of belonging. It was wrong, so fucking wrong, but it felt right.
Derek stood over her, his chest rising and falling, his eyes glazed with satisfaction. He reached out, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from her face, his touch tender now. “God, that was fantastic, Mom,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.
Her cheeks flushed as she met his gaze. “Yes, it was,” she purred, her voice trembling but playful. “Mmh, I feel so relaxed. I could stay right here forever.”
His laughter was soft, almost shy, but his eyes burned with a hunger that made her stomach clench. “I have a better idea,” he said, his hand slipping under her, hauling her up into his arms with surprising ease. “Let’s go cuddle on the couch and binge-watch ‘Cake Empire.’”
Claire giggled, the sound light and carefree, a stark contrast to the intensity of what they’d just done. She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning into him, her skin still feverish with the heat of their passion. “You really are the perfect Master,” she teased, her lips brushing against his chest.
His lips curled into a smile, but there was a seriousness in his eyes that made her heart skip a beat. “I suppose we’ll have to talk about when to be Master and Mommy-slut and when to be mother and son,” he said, his tone thoughtful.
She nuzzled into him, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Yes, but not right now,” she replied, her voice soft but firm. She pressed a kiss to his chest, her lips lingering against his skin. “Right now, I want to bask in the afterglow and cuddle with my new master.”
His laugh was low, a rumble in his chest that vibrated against her cheek. “Well, then get your freshly fucked ass on the couch, cuddle-slut,” he growled.
Claire giggled. "Yes, Master." He spanked her hard as she turned toward the living room, making Claire squeal and start running. Derek chased her. Claire turned to face him, cackling with laughter, when she got to the couch.
Derek pounced, his body crashing into hers, their laughter mingling as they tumbled onto the couch. His fingers tickled her sides, making her squirm and shriek, her hands flailing as she tried to push him away. “Stop it!” she gasped between giggles, her legs wrapping around his waist almost instinctively. Then he kissed her, and soon their tongues were exploring each other's mouth as their hands explored each other's body.
Once they came up for air twenty minutes later, she asked, "We're not going to cuddle are we?"
"Oh, no," he replied. "We're going to cuddle. But first, you're going to have to beg for it." Derek then drove his cock into her.
Claire managed to beg enough for her Master to cuddle her, eventually, but not until after she had several more orgasms and another load of his cum in her womb.
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