Chained and Spanked Mother [ incest, m/s, BDSM, enslavement, slow,…]

Chained and Spanked Mother
by DiscipleN

– – – a fan prequel to Kathy Andrews’ 1984, raunchy novel, “Chained and Spanked Sister” – – –

[this is the worst kind of sex story: stupid, evil, un-redeeming, utterly perverse, and poorly edited… Just saying, so righteous down-voters don’t have to read it to justify their facist censorship]

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Chapter 1

“Mom, I’m going out back to practice my cheers. Don’t let Robert and Tommy follow and leer at me!” Peggy Collinsfield buried the skimpy outfit, covering her perfect, sophomore tits and ass, behind large pom poms.

Peggy’s two, younger brothers looked up, innocently, from their schoolbooks, clearly maligned by their sister’s accusation. They lay on the living room carpet in front of the television.

Joan Collinsfield smiled at her sons, “You’re imagining things, Sweetheart. They’ve been perfect angels, studying and doing their homework.” She returned her attention to the sock she was darning.

Peggy harrumphed and stormed outside to the back yard. Her mother always took those brats’ side!

Robert decried his sister’s departure, “Peggy’s just a dumb girl. Who would want to look at her?”

Tommy chimed in, “Yeah, Mom, you’re way hotter than her!”

“Excuse me, young man?” Joan was shocked her youngest would say such a thing!

“Cool it, Tommy.” Robert warned.

Tommy pouted but didn’t apologize.

“You’re not too young to wash your mouth out with soap.” Their mother threatened Tommy.

“I’ll wash your mouth with something.” The boy looked away and mumbled.

“What was that, young man?” Joan sat up straight. Her eyes bored into her son’s.

“It was nothing, Mom.” Robert tugged on his brother’s arm. “He’s just hungry.”

“Supper isn’t until six, but you may have a snack. There are fresh oranges in the refrigerator.”

Robert stood, pulling Tommy to his feet. “Thanks, Mom. We’ll eat them in the cellar.”

Boys, Joan thought, only boys would have fun in their dank, poorly lit basement cluttered with her and her husband’s old junk. She hadn’t been down there in months.

The older boy dragged his brother to the kitchen and opened the fridge. He grabbed two beers, then stocked it with two from the top cupboard. “You almost blew it, brother!” He handed one to Tommy and cracked open the metal tab.

“Fucking teases, both of them.” Tommy vented. They threw their pull tabs in the trash and retreated to the cellar.

Robert closed the upper door and switched on the dim bulb hanging from the center of the floorboards above. They descended the steep stairs. “You gotta keep your cool. I’m as horny about Mom as you, but we have to finish in here before we can stop pretending.” The older boy sipped his beer and opened a cardboard box tucked behind a barely used rowing machine. He fetched a well worn book from it and tossed it to his brother.

“I’m sick of jacking off!” Tommy caught the book and sat in one of the sturdy, metal chairs. “I want to suck Mom’s tits and fuck her holes, like the boys in these books do.” He gulped a slug of beer and unzipped his trousers.

“You’re gonna, Tommy.” Robert promised. He pulled a hammer from the tool chest. “Once we get these rings in place and test that chain, we’ll never shoot our cum into dirty rags again!”

In the living room, a dull pounding beneath her diverted Joan’s attention from the rhymes belted out by her daughter in the back yard. The boys told her they were dismantling the old, coal furnace, to make room down there. They’d been at it for weeks, but recently the noise sounded more like hitting concrete than rusty iron. They had taken a lot parts and other junk to the landfill already. Despite her youngest boy’s rude outburst, she never had to punish them, unlike their spirited, older sister. Only three days earlier, she grounded Peggy for wearing terribly revealing clothes.

Joan and her husband forbid their daughter from dating, until she turned sixteen, but both were sure the teen was meeting boys, some nights when she’d said she was visiting girlfriends. She’d come home with smeared lipstick and rumpled clothes, but never smelled like sex. Joan was pretty sure her daughter was still a virgin.

Joan had lost her virginity when she was fourteen. It would be a miracle, if she could protect her daughter from her mistakes, some far worse than getting pregnant with Peggy, when she was eighteen. Peggy’s father had done the right thing and married Joan, but few men did that anymore.

Compared to her settled, routine, life as a homemaker, Joan had been a firebrand in high school. She particularly liked to run with the bad boys, the ones who called her ‘cunt’ and ‘cocksucker’. Her husband wasn’t anything like that, and never had been. He was a good man who worked hard and could afford a good life. Joan only picked him, when she knew her grades would never get her into a college where there were lots of rich boys. She spent her senior year trying to get knocked up by him.

Fourteen years later, Joan had calmed down and had learned respect for her ‘good man’. What he lacked in the bedroom was more than compensated by his love for her and care and attention to their children. He was a good father and provider. His romantic side, if not his erotic one, was as enduring at it was endearing. They often hugged and kissed, when the children weren’t watching. She had grown quite fond of him, drifting slowly and far away from youthful indiscretions and rebellion. She had to make sure Peggy never loved cock and lust crazed boys as much as she had.

The heavy pounding silenced, startling Joan out of stirring memories. She wondered if the boys had finally finished their project.

“HOORAH!” Peggy cried from the backyard.

Joan started up from her couch, setting down her sewing. She noticed a tiny dark spot on the cushion still dented from her weight. Then she felt it, between her thighs. She was wet. The barest memory of her misspent youth had made her wet enough, down there, to soak through her clothes and into the couch. She shivered from shame and walked to the kitchen. Her husband would be home soon. Joan started dinner.

The cellar door opened as she was putting a roast into the oven. She leaned over, her bent ass aimed right at the two boys who emerged dirty and sweating. Tommy gasp at the sight of his mom’s round butt, close enough to smack with his dirty hands. Robert groaned at the sight, disturbing his bother and his mother.

The oven door closed with a clang when Joan bolted up and turned to her boys. “What did you do with the peels?” She looked at their grimy hands.

“Oh, the oranges,” Robert almost quailed. “Um, we threw them out back.” There was a small window in the basement that overlooked the back yard. They’d spent as much time ogling their sister’s barely clad body bouncing through her routines, as they had pounding iron devices into the cellar’s walls and floor. “You know, through the little window.” The two boys hurried away.

“We’re gonna shower and finish our homework.” Tommy promised, newly aroused by his mother’s hot ass moment. Why did she always have to be such a fucking tease? If he hadn’t just jacked off in the cellar, he swore he would have pounced on her right then and there.

Minutes later, Peggy entered from the back yard, glistening from her efforts. “Mom, I gotta shower and get dressed. I’m meeting Shiela after dinner, to um, study math.”

“No you aren’t, young lady.” Joan was still fired up from remembering her last school years. “You will study math, with your father, tonight. You’re still grounded for buying that disgusting skirt and top.”

“I told you, Mom, it’s what all the other girls are wearing. I look like a preacher’s daughter at school!”

“Let all the other girls look like sluts-” Joan covered her mouth. “I’m sorry.” She hadn’t cursed in front of her children in years.

Peggy blinked, not sure what to make of her mother’s outburst. She’d thought a preacher would swear like a devil before her mother would. A smile crept over her lips. “I guess you aren’t made of ivory and marble after all.”

“And you aren’t going out for another week.” Joan tried to regain her dignity.

“Aw, Mom…” Peggy trudged out.

“Oh, and your brothers are using the shower. You’ll have to wait.”

“I’m use to being last in this family.” The teen lamented but was glad she hadn’t barged into the bathroom where her evil brothers were naked. She just knew they had leered at her while she worked out in the backyard.

Joan returned to chopping vegetables. Serving hearty meals, made from scratch, helped to fill her sexual poverty, when her family occasionally noticed and appreciated her efforts, especially the shining eyes of her sons. She paused, half finished. Maybe I should check… The thought occurred.

Setting down her knife, she rubbed her hands on her apron and stepped over to the cellar door. She switched on the light and crept down the steep stairs. Her eyes adjusted to dim light. Old junk cluttered the dank room. Somewhere, in there, was a sealed box with her memories from high school. Even after falling in love with her husband, she couldn’t let go of her sordid past.

She reached the cement floor and saw that most of the junk had been moved to make space to play in. A battered couch and metal chairs faced a wooden crate for a table. On the crate there were a book and an old rag. She turned the worn novel, to read its title. “Threesome With Mom, by Kathy Andrews” The picture on the cover showed two boys peeking at their naked mother in bed. Dread infused curiosity caused her hand to turn over the cover and forward page. The first word of the story was, “Joanne.”

Joan’s hand jerked back as if burned. It was one of her husband’s dirty books. She had told him to get rid of those, years ago, specifically to keep their adolescent sons at the time, from finding them. Instead, he had hid them down here! Or had the boys retrieved them from elsewhere? Joan’s suspicions got the best of her, having found evidence that belied her sons’ angelic history. She looked closer at the rag and barely touched it, then squealed from disgust! It was wet, and its odor made her nostiles wrinkle. Good god, the boys were masturbating down here, to horrid filth! What other mischief were they pursuing with their intermittent banging?

True, they must have dismantled the old furnace. It used to block one quarter of the basement. That corner was now bare. A coil of thick chain lay at the back, hidden from the high door, by stacks of junk. She went to examine it. As she bent to pick it up, she noticed two iron rings rooted to the floor by steel bolts. They were spaced wider than her hips. Looking up, forgetting the coiled length of chain, she saw two more rings set in the wall, just beneath the house’s floor. She could barely reach them. Why in heaven’s name had her sons done this?

“They’re for you, Mom.” Robert’s voice froze his mother in her tracks.

“And us.” Tommy added, from the top of the stairs. He closed the cellar door behind him.

“Sorry you had to find this.” The older boy regretted. “We weren’t going to spring them on you until we knew it all worked.”

Her sons had returned to the basement, to find her prying into their recent work. Joan shook off guilt and shock. She had every right to pry! Joan stood tall, slightly taller than her oldest son. “We’ll see about that!” She cried. “Your father will learn about this horrible construction. You’ll both be grounded for a year, if not sent to a military school.” She charged passed Robert, but Tommy blocked her in the middle of the stairs.

“Get out of my way!” She commanded her youngest.

“Fuck, no.” Tommy crossed his arms over his chest. Slightly shorter than his brother, he towered over their mother, two steps above her.

“How dare you use that kind of language!”Frustrated, but not enough to fight the boy, she promised, “I’ll scream, if you don’t let me past.”

“Peggy’s in the shower, now, and Dad won’t be home for an hour. I’m tired of waiting. It’s time you learned who’s in charge of the house, from now on.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Joan reached up to push him out of her way, against the wall. She had to be careful of falling or pushing him over the edge of the stairs. That care was her undoing.

Tommy caught her wrists. He was only half as strong as his mother, but caution prevented her from overpowering him right away.

“Get out of my-” Joan started but her voice was suddenly blocked by a foul rag stuffed into her open mouth, from behind. It was quickly followed by a handkerchief lodging it in place and tied behind her head. “whhhggghhh!!”

“Sorry, Mom. We can’t let you out until you learn your lesson.” Robert added his strength to his brother controlling their mother’s arms. Together, they dragged/pushed her back to the cellar floor.

When concrete met her slippers, Joan struggled with all of her might. She managed to free one arm, even using it to strike Tommy’s shoulder. She hollered into her nasty tasting gag.

“OW! You’ll pay for that, Momma!” He cried.

“Shut up, Tommy. She’s going to get away if we don’t work together.” In an attempt to mimic a move he saw in a Kung Fu movie, he kicked his mother’s feet. It didn’t topple her like it did in the movie, but she stumbled, allowing Tommy to grab her free arm and secure it. Both boys were sweating by the time they jostled her next to an iron ring in the wall.

Robert had grabbed an old piece of clothesline while racing to support his brother. He worked with one hand, to secure one of their mother’s wrists to the ring.

Joan shouted and shouted, despite the sickening rag in her mouth. Maybe Peggy would hear her if she shouted as loud as she could! She spent all of her attention fighting the boys, until she felt a harsh length of plastic cord wrap around her wrist. It cut into her flesh when she pulled against it with all of her strength. She screamed!

“I think we got her!” Tommy shouted, once it was clear their mother couldn’t pull free of the ring and rope. Together, he and Robert tied her other arm to another ring in the wall. After that, they didn’t have to strength to secure her ankles to the rings in the floor.

They panted and watched their mother struggle against her bonds ineffectively.

“I’m glad we spent all that time practicing tying knots.” Tommy thanked his brother with thin breath.

Joan’s strength drained when her best efforts were thwarted by the ropes binding her arms to the wall. Tears welled up in her eyes and she hung her head. Why were her boys doing this? They had always been so good.

“Gee, Robert. Now that we have her, I dunno. Dad’s gonna be home any minute.”

“Relax, he’s at least half an hour away.”

“How are we going to win against her by then?”

“We can’t, but we can call Uncle Nick.” Robert grinned, the solution occurring to him like a bolt of lightning. He bolted to the stairs. “Keep an eye on her. Make sure the gag doesn’t get loose.” He leaped upwards and through the door, slamming it behind him.

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/a7bn92/chained_and_spanked_mother_incest_ms_bdsm