In Charge

I can still recall, quite clearly in fact, the day I raped my mother. No, I don't regret it; not one bit. If I have one regret, it's that I didn't do it sooner. Six years ago - I was sixteen then.

Let me tell you a bit about her first. She had me young - real young. She was fourteen when she got pregnant. My father split the second he heard - he was like sixteen or eighteen or something. Fed my mother all kinds of lies about sex and stuff to get his way with her. Ah well, no loss. Never met him, hope to god I never do.

So, she's thirty years old, and let me tell you, for as long as I could remember, she was hot. My friends told me that all the time - "Rob, you're mom's a fox." "Damn, I'd love to tap that bitch." "Dude, you ever see her walking around naked? In her underwear? Spy on her in the shower?"

Yes, she was a fox, but I had only seen her breasts bare once that I can remember, when I was like six or so and walked in to her bedroom without knocking and she was still getting dressed. Neither of us thought much of it at the time; I was told to knock before entering, and I did after that.

She was maybe five foot seven, but she went running every morning before she left for work. Kept a trim 120 pounds or so, I guess. Breasts weren't big, maybe B cups or so, they were large enough for her body, so it looked just right. She had brown hair, naturally wavy, always complained about how frizzy it was and how she could never control it but I thought it looked nice - a little bounce, a little shape.

Now, she never went to college - hell, she barely finished high school since her parents wanted her out of the house as soon as they heard she was pregnant. Fucking grandparents - I haven't seen them since I was five or so and that's fine with me. They don't send birthday or Christmas cards, so fuck them. They waited until she turned eighteen until they kicked her out. It's been just me and my mom since then and that's just fine.

She worked as a secretary for as long as I can remember. She's not qualified for much more, but she's been doing it since she was eighteen. She's amazingly good at it now; she gets paid very well being the head administrative assistant to the CEO of her company, but it took her a while before she got that position. I have long suspect, and recently had confirmed, that in the beginning, she had to do a little extra for her bosses to keep her job. I have no problem with a woman using her assets to help her along - it was tough for her, a young girl with a child to raise. So she fucked some bosses and sucked so cock to climb the corporate later. She also got very good at her job and was now employed for merit alone (well, maybe also cause she's still one hot babe).

I can appreciate everything she had done for me now that I can look back at it all. However, as a teenage, she pissed me the hell off. She never had the knack for firm discipline, so I grew up a punk, doing what I wanted when I wanted. We lived in a small apartment when I was a teenager, and I must admit, I did not hang out with a good crowd. I was failing school cause I never showed up. I was out doing all kinds of stupid stuff - smoking, drinking, fucking - whatever. I got my first blow job when I was twelve from one of my friend's sister. She need money to score some drug or for her boyfriend or something. Whatever. Twenty bucks, and it was damn worth it. I was paying her like once a month for a blow; stole the money from Mom's purse.

Fucked a girl at twelve. Don't even remember her name. Part of a gangbang at fifteen. One of the guys I hung with, he was a little older, had a girlfriend who he swore wanted it. I pretty damn sure she didn't, though, cause someone always had to be holding her down for the other guys. We each took turns shoving out cocks wherever we wanted - I took her cunt once and her ass once. I heard something later about how the whole was done because the dude thought she was cheating on him - not that he wasn't cheating on her with two other girls - and decided to teach her a lesson. That's cool. Sounds like the proper way to teach a girl not to cheat; she wants someone else's dick, give her as much as she could possible want. Shit, that's fucking damn near poetic!

Anyway, I was sixteen. My mom had started trying to discipline me - get me to go to school, stop being such a punk. Guess she read in some magazine about how single moms need to be tough on their kids or some shit like that. Pissed me the hell off. We got into fights constantly, which had never happened before. I swear, I came close to backhanding her several times.

Well, it was a Tuesday evening, like five of so. I had grabbed something quick from the fridge for dinner and was going out to hang with some friends. Probably be out until at least 3 in the morning. That was the way things went. Well, Mom's coming in, all huffy and shit. I don't know - maybe she had a bad day, I didn't ask. She starts bitching at me about my grades and my school work and how I wasn't going out that night.

I laughed. "I'm going out," I said. "What, are you going to stop me?" Usually that shut her up.

"Yeah, I am," she fired back. I must admit, I was surprised. And even more pissed off.

"How you gonna do that? Ground me? I'll leave anyway. Change the locks so I can't get back in. I'll just break the door." Which was true, I would have.

"I'll call the cops on you."

"Whatever," I replied, turning to leave. She was pissing me off something awful, and I knew the best thing for me to do was to get out of there before I acted on my aggression. She was bluffing anyway. She wouldn't call the cops.

I was almost out the door, but she had to say it. "Get back here this minute, Bobby. I mean it!"

I was livid. 'Bobby' she called me. I hated that name - it sounded so childish, especially the way she said it. My friends called me Rob; no one, no one ever called me Bobby. Except her. It felt so degrading to me - I couldn't stand it.

I whirled around and started back in to the house. She had a smug little smile on her face - she thought she had won. It was a smile of self-satisfaction, of victory. I'll never forget that smile, so bright, so confident. So completely wrong.

I backhanded her across the face then. One hit, knocked her to the ground. She was stunned, of course, and rightly so. She thought I was under her thumb; the last thing in the world she expected, ever, was for me to strike her.

I grabbed the front of her blouse and lifted her to her feet. She was trying to say something, but the words just weren't coming. Tears were starting to fill her eyes, but I was too angry to care. The look of absolute fear, that terror on her face, god it was beautiful! I had never seen anything so compelling before, so arousing. I was suddenly extremely horny, and I had a woman right here. There was no other thought process. Hard cock, hot slut. It was easy math.

"Bobby, I - "

I'm curious now as to what she was going to say. 'I'm sorry'? Seems a bit out of place, but the most likely. She didn't have the chance. I grabbed her throat with one had, crushing her words into a garble of nothing; with my other hand, I ripped off her blouse. Ever button, all at once, exploded from the fabric. It clung to her shoulders for a moment, but was gone soon after.

I had her skirt off before she was even aware of her predicament. Tears were flowing now, and she gasped out, "What are you doing?"

"What I should have done a while ago, bitch," I said, drinking in the image of her in her underwear. She was hot, hotter than most girls I knew. Her bra and panties were boring things, the kind of stuff most women wear when they have no one to impress. "Show you who's in charge here."

She barely even defended herself - her swatting hands had no force behind them. I pulled her to the ground and ripped her panties off, tearing them into two pieces. She was squirming around, trying to pull away, but she wasn't going anywhere. I undid my belt and dropped my pants.

"Don't!" she pleaded. There was urgency, but little volume to her voice; she was heaving and sobbing hard now, which only got me more turned on. I thought about gagging her, but only for a second. I was too horny to think beyond the 'maybe I should'.

I switched my grip, latching my hands hard against her thighs and pulling her roughly towards me, her legs sliding open around my legs. With my jeans and my knees, I let myself fall forward, onto her. My cock hit against her thigh, so I jabbed again and again, no aim, no patience, not caring.

She was crying still, "No, Bobby, don't. Please don't. God, don't do this, please. You can't do this, I'm you mother."

She cringed in pain when I finally rammed home; after that, she was dead silent. I was in, thrusting back and forth into her dry cunt. She cried and winced when I plowed forward, but offered no resistance. She wasn't even swatting at me anymore. She was just laying there, on the cold tiles of the kitchen floor, tears streaming down her race and submitting to my rape.

I felt powerful. I reached around her and unclasped her bra, freeing her breasts to me. She didn't react, not when I started sucking them, not when I bit into them. It wasn't until I took both nipples between thumb and index finger and twisted with all my might. Then she moaned. Her cunt was getting wet as I fucked her, and so I could go faster and pound harder. And she just got wetter.

Soon, her pussy was a slush pit - none of the girls I had fucked were ever this wet. She was still crying, but soft moans and pants fell out amongst the sobbing gasps. Her hands never moved from where they fell lifeless at her side, but her legs were hugging my hips a bit and her body rose, just slightly to meet my thrusts.

It was the best sex I had had in my life. Taking a woman by force was very erotic to me, but even more so because it was my mom. The one person, the only person, who had never held and real power over me, and now I was forcing her to submit to my desire. I was in charge, I was the boss. The power was mine!

I was even surprised by how long I lasted; I must have held on for a good half an hour before my orgasm, the best I had known, ripped through my body and coaxed the cum from my cock. I continued to hump away, pounding in with ever blast of cum, waiting until I was completely spent before pulling out.

She moaned when I did it; I swear it sounded like a whimper, like she wanted me to go on. I wiped my cock clean with her panties and dropped them down on her. There was a little pink mixed in with the cum and juices, she was bleeding a bit, but I didn't care.

She had just begun to stir when I was on my way out again. Looking down on here, I felt my cock stir, and I almost stayed the fuck her again, but I decided against it. "I'm going out now." I told her. "My friends and I will be here around ten or so. Make sure you're in bed and there's plenty of beer in the fridge." There hadn't been beer in our fridge for a couple weeks, not since mom figured out I was drinking it.

When she didn't reply right away, I took a menacing step towards her, "Got that, bitch?"

She flinched away from me, scurrying on the floor. "Y - yes, Robert. Whatever you want."

"Good." I turned and walked now.

I never even gave a second thought to the fact she might call the cops or change the locks or not even be there when I came back. I had no remorse for what I had done. It felt so good that, all the while I was with my friends, I kept replaying it in my head, the look of terror in her eyes. Her tears. All of it - I kept getting hard, then forcing myself to think of other things, only to have my mind wander back to it. She was hot, but she looked even hotter cowering before me, stripped naked, and lying on the floor.

My friends and I were back at my place around 11, maybe midnight. The door was locked, but my key worked fine. There was beer in the fridge - an entire case of decent stuff, too - and my mom was no where to be seen. I checked her room quickly and saw a bundle under the sheets. I assumed it was her.

I thought about yanking her out of bed right then, dragging her out into the living room so that my friends and I could all have our way with her. She could be our little toy for the evening. I put that thought away, but as the evening wore on and my beer count went up, I kept coming back to it. All my friends wanted to do her, I knew, and as drunk as we were, they wouldn't think anything of me fucking her too. The only thing that kept me from doing it was the thought that she was my play thing and mine alone.

My friends stumbled out around 2 in the morning. We were all pretty hammered at that point. I was dragging myself towards my room, or I thought I was. But the next thing I knew is I was in mom's room, on her bed. I had torn away my cloths and dumped them to the floor as I walked across the room. I was horny like a motherfucker - and indeed, I was a motherfucker, and I had a mother right here. She was going to get it. Again.

I flopped down on the bed next to her. She was curled up on her side underneath the covers. I slid one hand across her leg and up her thigh; she moaned an uncurled a little. I other hand scooped under her body, up under her shirt and straight to her tit, which I began to caress, albeit roughly. She only had a t-shirt and panties on, which made it real easy for me. She was still asleep, so I continued caressing. My hand on her leg slid rather nonchalantly to her crotch and began rubbing her pussy through the material of her underwear. She was moaning louder, so I continued, pleased by the heat and wetness I was beginning to feel through the cloth.

She stirrer more, finally roused enough to realize it wasn't a dream, someone was actually groping her. "Robert?" she whispered. Her voice betrayed her shock and fear.

"Yeah," I replied. "Good job with the beer, but I'm fucking horny now."

"I - I did what you asked me, Rob. Please, I -" She swatted at me, as if I could be deterred in such a way. She had no energy to fight, to will to resist.

I smacked her again, enjoying the sound of my hand connecting with her cheek. I grabbed a fist full of her hair and pulled her face up close to mine. "I told you I was in charge now, dammit! What I say goes! If I tell you to blow me, you drop to your knees and start sucking! If I tell you I want to fuck, you bend over immediately. Do you understand?"

She was sniffing again. "Y - yes, Robert. I understand."

"Good." I tossed her back down onto the bed. "Now get those fucking panties off. That shirt too. In fact, from now on, you sleep naked. If I want to fuck you in the middle of the night, I'm going come in here and do it to you. I don't even want to have to wake you up before I start."

"Yes, Robert," she replied. I felt her shifting on the bed, stripping off her cloths. She knew she couldn't fight me - I would take beat her if I had to, to get what I wanted, and she knew I could, and would. If I raped her once, there is little she could do to prevent it again.

"No, even better. This is my bed now," she had a queen size. It was much newer and better than my twin. "You can sleep at my feet like a dog. If you're good. If you're not, you sleep on the floor next to the bed. I'll fuck you if I want, or wake you up and have you serve me."

"Yes, Robert," she replied. Her voice was low, meek. Broken. She was mine. She was crying silently to herself; she probably hoped I couldn't tell, but I knew. And it made me want to fuck her even more.

I flipped her onto her side, straddled her leg and slid right in. If possible, she was even wetter than when I had finished fucking her earlier. Her cunt was red hot when I slid my cock in, and I felt her muscles clenching and unclenching hard on my shaft as I began to pound away.

"And if I have a girl over for the night, well, I guess you'll just have to sleep on the floor in my room. Naked, too, in case I decide I want a piece of your sweet cunt in the middle of the night."

I drew my hand up and smacked her hard on the ass. She drew in a sharp breath, a gasp of sheer pleasure. Her body was reacting, even if she was disgusted by what I was doing to her. I decided to press the matter, to turn it against her. To fuck with her had as well as her body.

"You like this don't you, bitch," I sneered. "This is what you need all along - so man to treat you like the dog-whore you are. Worthless cunt - I'm not surprised. Too dumb to do anything on your own, you've need a man to tell you exactly what to do with yourself." I spanked her again, harder.

She cried out in pleasure, but she said nothing. I like to think that, while she was weeping, she just kept thinking that maybe I was right - maybe she did need this and that she was a worthless cunt. After all, her body was responding quite passionately to the domination. Maybe this is what she really wanted after all.

"Tell me you are trash."

I hear her sniff, nothing more, so I yanked hard on her hair and repeat myself. She was a little bit better about responding, thought her words were little more than a whisper, "I am trash."

"You are cock-whore, my cum-rag. The only thing you are good for is keeping my cum from staining the bed sheets. You are lower than a dog, less than a pet would be to me. You are not even a servant. You are my slave."

Her moans were overtaking her sobs now, but they were still mingled. She knew she could not resist me, that she was helpless to stop me from doing whatever I wanted from now on. I was still taking her by force and would continue to do so; there was no avoiding it.

"Tell you are my whore, my slave. That I own you." She sobbed a bit louder, so I spanked her a few times as hard as I could. She cried out in pain each time my hand fell, but the words were not quick to come.

"Say it, bitch," I cried out, slapping her across the face without breaking my rhythm. Then again. And a third time. I was about to punch her, she saw me draw my fist back and she turned away, mumbling into the pillow. "So I can hear you."

She was crying, it was no longer choked back anymore. The tears were flowing solid now, and she could barely breathe from the sobs. Her words were spattered and broken, but there was an underlining moan to her voice hinting at some dark pleasure and secret desire. More maybe I just like to think they were there, I don't know.

"I'm your slave. Your - your fuck toy," she spat the words, as if disgusted by herself for saying them. I continued fucking her through it all, relishing the sound of her voice declaring her submission. "You own my body; it is yours. I am you whore."

"You want my cum again, don't you, slut? That's the only thing you're good for, isn't it? Accepting my cum. Isn't it?"

"Yes," she wept, knowing that if she didn't say what I wanted to hear, she would be hurt. "Yes, that's all I'm good for. Please cum inside me."

It was too much for me to take; whether it was true or not, hearing those words put me over the edge and I fulfilled her wish.. For the second time that day, I was cumming in my mother's pussy.

I unleashed my load into her. She laid there, not moving as I emptied myself inside of her. She was sobbing still, crying into a pillow to muffle the sound. She was ashamed of her tears, ashamed to be raped by her son. I have no doubt she felt dirty, most likely ill, too. But I was confident that some part of her enjoyed it and wanted more.

I wasn't trying to justify what I had done - it was a complete and total violation whether she had wanted, even a little, or not. I didn't care, either. I liked the idea that she was a slut who liked getting raped and dominated by her son; it was my little fantasy to make me enjoy it more, not feel better about my self. Like I said, no regrets about it - ever.

I collapsed on the bed, exhausted and a bit drunk. I pulled myself up into a seating position, my back against the back board, and watched her shudder in the dim light.

"My cum's leaking out of you, slut. You don't want to loose it do you? Eat it up!"

Once more, she did not react - she was not good at taking instructions. She would have to be taught to obey me better. I pulled her head back yard, nearly ripping her hair from her scalp. I wrapped my other hand around her throat, squeezing hard, making it very difficult for her to breath.

"Listen, you dumb cunt-whore. When I tell you to do something, you better do it. I have not yet begun to hurt you, do you understand? Now, my patience is very thin, and as you can tell, I really enjoy hurting you. Now, you either eat up every last bit of cum, or so help me, I'll beat you so hard the only thing you'll eat for the rest of you life is the spunk I shoot down your throat. Now do you understand me?"

She nodded. At least as much as she could with my hand clamped around her neck. Her eyes were wide and full of fear - I could see that even in the barely lit room. She made a show of it then; my mother dipped her fingers into her cunt, scooped out a blob of my cum, then licked her finger clean. She continued this until her fingers produced nothing but her own juices from her cunny.

"Now make yourself cum, slut. I know your snatching is dripping wet; I know how horny you are," I whispered to her, trying to get excited by it. Trying to trick her into really enjoying it. "You want it so bad. You need it. You loved it all so much, now let yourself really enjoy it. Realize your desire. Make yourself cum."

She crying became audible again, but still, above her tears was the sound of her fingers working her wet pussy. I wish the lights had been on; I sure her face was beat red with shame are mortification.

"Suck me clean while you do it, whore. I'm sure pleasuring me will make it all the more enjoyable for you."

She rolled onto her stomach, her face buried in my lap, her mouth on my wilting cock. She took it in her mouth and began to suck. She really worked with her mouth, too - so much better than any blow job I had ever had. She treated it like it was a very important job and she threw all of her energy and dedication into it. Maybe she was afraid of what I would do to her if I didn't enjoy it. But she seemed to be enjoying herself, too. Her crying final gave way to shallow moans and heavy breathing; she was trying to hide the fact that she was receiving pleasure from all of this, but I could read the signs. She was working her way to an orgasm, probably one of the best's ever had.

When intoxicated, tired, and having just cum hard, I was sleepy and drifting off. I felt the urge to piss, but ignored it in favor of sleeping. I figured it was a wonderful way to fall to sleep, having you cock sucked. I was practically out, my reality had faded to darkness; her sharp cry, the sound muffled by my cock between her lips, brought me back quite suddenly, but it still took me a couple moments until I realized piss was dribbling from my dick.

I tightened up, sealing it off. Then I realized that her move was sealed tightly around the base of my cock - I wasn't sure how I had let leak, but she hadn't let a single drop escape her. I figured why the hell not. It sure as shit beat interrupting this great blowjob to use the toilet. I relaxed again, a sharp spurt blasting out, which caused her to jump a bit, but she didn't pull away. It was a quick shot, then the rest just flowed naturally; I could have forced it out faster, but didn't want her spilling any on the bed. Mom kept her slips sealed around the base of my cock and swallowed everything.

"Looks like we found something else that you're good for, huh?" I asked, not expecting nor receiving a reply.

She came at some point in the middle of it all, I could tell by the jerks and muffled moans of pleasure that vibrated against my cock. She resumed bobbing her head up and down my flaccid shaft for a few moments when the flow stopped, making sure I was completely done before pulling off my cock.

I was spent completely then and wanted nothing more than to sleeop "You've done well for today. You may sleep by my feet tonight." I slumped down in the bed, rolling on to my side underneath the covered. I felt her curl up in a ball at the foot of the bed, completely naked and uncovered. She was crying again, no doubt hating herself for being so weak and powerless and for enjoying the whole thing so very much. I took great comfort in that and her sobbing sung me to sleep as surely as lullaby to a baby.

That was the day everything changed. Form that point on, she was mine, my obedient slave. Well, not always obedient, at least not right away, but Mom learned very quickly that even hesitation was dealt with harshly; refusal was never accepted. One way or another, she would comply with my wished, no matter what I wanted. And it was usually easier to do it eagerly and happily, but it took her some time before she learned that lesson.