Parent Trap: 3
Fake Flower Stories
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AUTHOR’S NOTE:
This is part 3 of a continuing series involving themes of blackmail, free use, dub-con, and maybe some non-con. If it’s too dark for you, then I highly recommend looking into my other works for ‘happier’ endings. I put a lot of work into making many of my other works sweeter, and with more likeable characters – but for anyone looking for the kind of tight, insane, power rush of free use and blackmail… This one’s for you.
As always,
Enjoy.
Fake Flower
Chapter 12
The next morning, I came downstairs early and found her. Mom was dishing up breakfast for my dad before he went to work. While most of the time I’d still be in bed enjoying the summer before college, this time, I was way, way too excited to waste any minute.
The last couple days with my mom were crazy. I never, ever thought a woman like her could be so slutty, so sexually fucked up that she’d allow her son to cum in her mouth and pussy, no matter the circumstances. But the circumstances were here, and I used her holes, filled her from both directions without a single consequence.
And what bothered me the most wasn’t that she liked it. Last night, after she came on my cock as I took her in the kitchen, I had the seed of realization plant itself that it would take a lot more to degrade her the way I wanted. She was too sick, too slutty to feel the shame and worthlessness, even if her son took advantage of her in her own home. It was going to take a lot more to do punish her, and I had plans; big ones, forming in my head to help me to push her to the absolute limit and to show her just how far I could go.
After all, cheaters get what they deserve.
As I entered the kitchen, mom looked up from the counter and her eyes reflexively widened. Mom normally looked at least pleased to see me, the same way any mom would when her son, budding with life’s potential, appeared for another possibility filled day. But that was before all of this started happening. This time, her eyes flared wide and her mouth opened with a hesitant gasp.
And she froze.
Not in a way that showed she was scared. It wasn’t a look I felt familiar with -- her breathing went a little faster and her shoulders hiked up a little. And the corners of her mouth went just a little upward.
She was getting excited.
She looked so, so good. She was wearing a mid-thigh flowing cotton dress, no doubt to mock me -- to call back to last night when I pulled up her nightgown and had my way with her. This dress was only a little longer than the nightgown. It was the kind of dress that I loved to see on any woman, flowing, high, revealing the marked contrast between her cute waist and her soft, wide, fuckable thighs. It was going to be so easy to fuck her again. And that stuck out to me as another bit of evidence that I hadn’t yet proven to her who was boss.
She wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t suffering, she didn’t feel like even my deviancy had any hold over her. My control over her, to her, wasn’t control.
It was a game.
“Good morning, sunshine,” she said, her tone a little condescending. “I thought you’d want to sleep a little longer after last night.”
Something in my clicked. Not anger. Just resolve. And the knowledge that I had to establish my dominance over her as fast as possible. “Hold still,” I said. I went around the counter and approached her.
“What?” Mom straightened up and tried to turn to face me, but right as she started moving, I reached her, and then gripped her by her waist and turned her around by force, pushing my erect cock against her ass, feeling the softness of her thighs and torso yielding under my hands. Mom gave a little frustrated gasp as I pushed her, hard, against the counter.
Her voice went down to an annoyed whisper. “You’re not going to fuck me again, are you?”
“I’m going to do whatever the fuck I want,” I hissed back. My hands pushed her forward. She resisted, her back pushing upward and her body trying to twist itself out of my grasp. I could feel her body engaging mine under me, I could feel her legs trying to get her wormed out and from in front of me, but I was stronger, and my hands started pushing and digging into her sides and her hips.
“You’re hurting me,” she whispered, her voice now getting a little higher and harsher. There was a nervous thread in her voice. It was working. “I’ll let you fuck me soon, just wait until dad leaves first, and --”
I didn’t listen. I pushed her against the counter, and reached down to pull up the edge of her dress.
“What, stop it--”
“Shut the fuck up.” I said, making my tone as dark and threatening as I could. “I don’t give a fuck what you want, I don’t give a fuck that you’re a fucked up slut who’s so nasty that you’ll let your own son fuck you,” The hem of her dress went up as her body started to stiffen. Suddenly I could see thigh. Then curve. The soft, plush curve of her ass, so warm and wide and lovely and abundant and fucking sexy. I reached down and felt at it, felt at my own mom’s ass, felt her flesh giving and how smooth her skin was, like an apple. “You’re going to do whatever I want, whenever I want, because if you don’t, if you don’t satisfy me, I’m going to show dad our little secret, and then you’re going to find yourself living off of alimony. Which dad won’t pay. Do you really think he’s a good enough guy to pay even if a court tries to force him?”
That made her stop struggling, almost immediately. My hands roamed her body, explored her under the dress, pulled it up and higher and revealed the thin fabric of her panties. With every part of her that I laid bare, my heart accelerated. My hand cruised upward and smoothed up her back. I hadn’t ever explored her body like this. Mom was sexy, that was for sure, but up close, the way she felt under my hands, it was transcendent. She was a woman with a woman’s soft, warm body, and she was starting to shake lightly under my touch and the fear and the threats that I held over her head.
“You think because you liked it,” my right hand went up and over her dress, and then pressed along the back of her neck, “that means you’ve got something on me? That any of this goes your way?” My hand closed over her nape, my fingers pushed upward and smoothed into and through her hair. Then my fingers started to close, gripping her hair, winding it into a fistful, a rope. “You think you can tell me when I can and can’t use you?” I started to move my arm, gently turning her face this way and that against her will, watching as her eyes widened and as she started to realize that I was in absolute control.
With my other hand, I undid my pants and pulled out my cock. The sensation of the cool air around me, with the lights in the kitchen and coming through the windows, and the sound of the strained and anxious breathing of my new toy sent electric shivers of excitement through me. I listened to the quiet silence of our house for the sound of dad’s footsteps coming from upstairs, but there was nothing. It was just me, and my mother, and her holes, waiting for me to use them whatever way I wanted.
I pushed forward. My cock found itself at that soft, warm spot between her legs, and I rubbed against her panties and pressed with the head of my cock upwards, into warmth, into a place so soft and so inviting that I could literally feel pussy lips underneath the fabric. As I rubbed my cock against her entrance and savored the soft, yielding warmth of my mom’s pussy through her panties, I noticed just a hint, a subtle humidity. I rubbed between her lips harder. And felt that warmth grow into wetness.