WARNING
THIS IS GRAPHIC MATERIAL MEANT FOR AGES 18 AND ABOVE. CONTAINS FETISHES: STRIP SEARCH, BLACKMAIL, INCEST, NON-CON, FORCED TO STRIP, FORCED EXHIBITIONISM, HUMILIATION, EMBARRASSMENT, ABUSE OF AUTHORITY. ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+
ISO Writer and/or 3dcg Artist to hire on retainer. Must, at the very least, enjoy my work below. (PM me here if interested).
**Ch.1**
***Parker***
Life was normal. Dad returned from his business trip and the incident between mom and the police officer was never mentioned. Oddly enough, Carl and I didn’t talk much about it either. The school was abuzz the next day as the rumors flew. And then that talk stopped too. It was as if everyone felt the ordeal to be a bit too real, maybe a bit too tragic, to discuss it openly.
Mom was clearly shaken up. She remained that way for about a week. Dad noticed but mom shrugged it off as an “odd mood.” It wasn’t like there was really any behavior change in her. She just remained more subdued than normal. Her outfits changed too.
She used to wear skirts and blouses to work. Now she wore pants and turtle-neck sweaters. Even when her cheerful demeanor returned a couple weeks later and everything was normal, her work attire remained more conservative than ever.
None of this stopped me from jacking off like a fiend — replays of her strip search ran in my head incessantly. I’m sure Carl was the same. When he came over to hang out, and mom would be in the kitchen, I could tell his eyes were unfolding every fabric off her body. And he didn’t have to imagine what was underneath.
It was an early Friday morning, maybe about a month after the incident, when I received an anonymous email. Mom was in the kitchen, cleaning up Dad’s breakfast. I was at our table, polishing off a bagel and casually browsing some porn sites with my laptop turned away so that mom couldn’t see what I was up to. Dad had gone upstairs to dress for work before taking me to school.
The email didn’t have a subject line. The message said, “You’ll enjoy this.”. Attached was a video file. I opened it.
My screen showed an empty room with a table and chair in the center. The footage was from some security camera positioned at one of the corners. A police officer and a woman entered the room. I immediately recognized them as Bill and my mom. They looked like they were talking, but the video didn’t have any audio. The officer motioned to mom to stand in the center of the room. His eyes glanced over to the camera and he winked.
“Parker! Hello!” interrupted mom. I quickly closed my laptop.
“What?” I responded back.
“What do you mean what? What are you doing over there? Clean up after yourself and get ready for school. Your father’s been yelling for you for the last minute.”
“Oh, sorry, must have zoned out…”
The video would have to wait. I knew it was it was anyway. Those police officers must have sent it. “Why would they send it,” was all I could think about as dad drove me to school. “Why would they send it?”
***Bill***
Power is fickle. It requires constant attention. It wasn’t three days before I pulled Melissa over again, this time on my own. You see, you can’t let these women accept their situation. Acceptance leads to rational thought and rational thought leads to fighting back. The key is to keep them emotional – never certain of their situation — never knowing what you might do.
She was driving home from school when I fired up my sirens. For a second, I thought she wasn’t going to pull over and I’ll admit I was nervous about how this was going to work out. But she did pull over.
As I walked up to her car, her window was already down, and she was a trembling wreck. She was wearing this opaque dark blue turtle neck sweater, sunglasses, and black pants. Her hands were shaking on the steering wheel. She didn’t even turn to me.
“License and registration, please,” I said politely.
“What do you want?” she whispered.
“License and registration,” I repeated again.
She fumbled through her glovebox and I became impatient so I interrupted her.
“Why don’t we just settle this at my office,” I said.
“Settle what?” she asked.
“The drugs your son is bringing to school.”
“What drugs? Parker doesn’t do drugs,” she said with marked confusion.
“As far as I can see, he does. Look, why don’t we settle this at my office.” She was about to say something, but stopped herself.
“And if I don’t go with you?” she said with a sigh.
“You want to go with me.”
I could see the gears working in her head. There really was only one choice she had.
“Okay,” she whispered.
At the station now, the two of us standing in the very same security room where I took my share of her not a few days ago. Her arms were wrapped around her chest as if they were going to protect her. I was leaning against one of the walls, taking her in.
“Well, why am I here?” she asked.
“Get on your knees,” I said calmly.
“No, now tell me why I’m here,” she asked again. She was too confident. I didn’t like it.
“Melissa, if you say no to me again I’m going to call in some fellow officers to search your house right now. In your son’s bedroom, hidden in his pillowcase, they will find ecstasy and heroin. Now get on your knees.”
She hesitated and then sunk to her knees. I approached her slowly, unbuckling my pants along the way. My dick was flaccid as I brought it to her face. She recoiled.
“Get it hard,” I told her. She took a moment before wrapping her lips around my cock. Her head bobbed slowly up and down, up and down. She kept her hands behind her back, like she didn’t want to touch me. I didn’t mind, her mouth was better anyway.
“Good, that feels good, Melissa,” I said with a smile.
My cock was getting hard now. Her mouth was engulfing the head, but she really wasn’t putting in much effort. I decided to show her how it was done so I wrapped her hair up around my hand and pulled her head back. Precum and spit dripped from her lips.
“Let go of me, I’m doing what you want aren’t I?” she said. She was still too confident and I didn’t like it.
“This isn’t like last time. This time you have to put in some fucking effort. Now suck my cock like you want it,” I said with force as I grabbed her head and shoved my dick down her throat. She gagged as she took me in all the way to the base. Her hands pushed away against my thighs but I didn’t budge. I pulled her head back and she gasped for air.
“That’s better,” I said, letting go of her. She took me in again and this time really in. Saliva drooled from her mouth onto the floor. My cock was a soaking hot mess. Her eyes were watering as all kinds of unpleasant noises emitted from her throat. She was having a tough time at it, but her speed was consistent.
I hunched over and groped her tits over her sweater. She was wearing a heavily padded bra but her tits still hung well and I could feel their suppleness even through the excessive fabric. She was getting good at sucking dick now, so I stopped her before I came.
“Stand up and bend over that table,” I said as she took big gulps of air.
This time she didn’t complain. She just wiped her face with the arm of her sweater, her head hanging down, and bent over the table.
“No, not like you’re at the doctor’s office. Bend over like you want this,” I told her. She sighed and spread her legs a bit, arched her back, and pushed her ass out towards me.
“Better,” I said, patting her lower back. She flinched. I grabbed the hem of her pants and in one movement pulled them down along with her white cotton panties. Her ass was a pale white and looked inviting. I slapped it. She grunted.
I brought my hands to her face, and brushed my fingers against her trembling lips. She opened her mouth gently, knowing what I wanted.
“Suck my fingers,” I said. Her tongue wrapped around them. I pulled them out and brought them to her pussy. Her saliva made it easy for me to put one, then two into her. She gasped. I worked my fingers in and out, teasing her clit when I felt like it. Her legs started to shake and I knew she was ready.
In one movement, I shoved my cock into her. A moan escaped her lips. I pounded her into that table. Her ass jiggled on every thrust. She was sopping wet now and I knew she hated herself for it. A whimper followed every push and pull.
Her knuckles where white as she tried to hold onto the shaking table. I brought my hands beneath her sweater and lifted it up over her bra. I pulled the cups away from her tits, letting them hang freely. They bounced back and forth as I plowed her. My torso hugged against her arched back. My hands cupped her breasts, pinching her hardening nipples between my fingers. I was going to cum soon.
With one final jerk, I finished and rested on top of her. She was silent except for her staged breathing which slowly subdued back to normal. My cock became soft and I let it slither out of her sopping wet snatch.
She got dressed without saying a word. I watched her with a smirk, my dick still hanging out between the zipper. The room reeked of her sex.
As she was about to leave the door, I interrupted her.
“I’ll see you tomorrow here, same time.”
“What?” she mumbled out.
“I said, I’ll see you here tomorrow, same time as today.”
“But you said…” she mumbled again.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“And if I don’… you will…”
“Yes,” I said.
She nodded her head and walked out. I slapped her ass as she exited the door.
**Ch.2**
***Bill***
The next day, I waited for her in our lobby. At 4:45pm, she walked through our doors and I smiled at her. Her eyes glared at me with true hatred. Good. I gestured her to the well-known security room and followed her through the door.
There isn’t much to say about what we did in there that wasn’t already said. Every day she wore the same neck-to-toe covered clothing and every day I stripped them off her. These days turned into weeks. We hardly spoke to each other. I could tell she was becoming used to her ordeal, which, I’ll have you know, is not a good thing. As soon as she accepts her situation, she’ll start to think of ways to get out of it.
I thought of inviting Paul to join me. I know he’s been bugging me to have a piece of Melissa again, but that would have to wait. Sometimes, you need to surprise a woman. Breaking them into complete submission is a long ladder with unevenly spaced rungs.
The next step came to me on a Friday morning. Since she was getting used to my presence, I had to get her vulnerable outside of our little room. This would first involve her clothing.
I acquired her son’s email off the high-school directory. It was then as simple as contacting him with a message he couldn’t ignore. Later that afternoon, I sent him another message.
As for Melissa, I gave her a reward, a carrot if you will, before the whip.
I texted her, “Melissa, take the afternoon off.”
She didn’t respond so I texted her again, “Ignore me, and I’ll expect you at 4:45pm. Now if I give you something, you say Thank You.”
She quickly texted back, “Thank You. I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you quicker. I’m in class right now.”
“Good. I’m tired of your wardrobe. Tomorrow you will go clothes shopping at the McHenry mall. Do you know the place?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“Good. Take your son with you and try on the clothes in front of him. I don’t care what you get, just something different. No more turtlenecks, got it? And anything your son likes on you, you buy and wear. Say yes sir.”
“Yes sir”
“Good girl. And Melissa, don’t ever delay in respond to me again. Your phone is always on you, and I am always there to tell you what to do. Understand?”
“Yes sir”
Perfect. She probably thought this was some pseudo power game: all that “yes sure” bullshit. “Just say, ‘yes sir,’ and he’ll be satisfied” is what she’s thinking. Easy enough to get a girl to do that — but it’s not sufficient. Her commitment must be real.
I’m sure the request about her son confused her, but I doubt she had any idea of where this was going. Like I said, you have to keep these women on edge. Power requires constant attention.
***Parker***
It was an agonizingly long school day before I could open the email again. During mom’s class, all those memories of her came flooding back. She was teaching us about… Actually, I forgot what she was teaching us about.
But she was teaching and standing by the white board and as she was standing there with her back facing us, all I could see was her being bent over that table — the overhead light diffusing off her pale white ass.
I didn’t mention the email to anyone, not even Carl. When I did arrive home, I was vibrating with nerves. My heart pounded out of my chest. And then I opened the email and watched it. I watched the video in its entirety.
You know, I must have been too excited because, thinking back now, I didn’t even get hard. My boxers were wet with precum, but I was just too damn enthralled with what I was seeing to bother jacking off. There she was, with her legs spread open, the officer working his hands up into her snatch and asshole. And there she was, on her knees, sucking his cock with evident disgust. And then again, spread out on the table as both officers took her.
Mom had been working late at school these days, something about parent teacher meetings she told me, and so I didn’t expect her home till later: plenty of time to watch and rewatch that video. I was a bit surprised when I heard her car pull in early, but by this hour I was on my 3rd or 4th viewing. As the front door opened, I got another email.
It read, “Respond if you like what you see.”
Of course, this email wasn’t really anonymous despite the cryptic address. It could only be one of those police officers, this I knew. What I didn’t know was where this was going. But I took the chance to respond — I wasn’t doing anything illegal here, right? I wrote back, “yes.”
A prompt response followed: “Good. Don’t ask questions, you don’t want to become more involved than necessary. Tomorrow your mom will ask you if you’d like to go clothes shopping with her. Say yes. Anything you like, your mom will buy and wear as part of her regular wardrobe. Anything.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I didn’t say anything at all. At the bottom of the email was a phone number with small note to text this number if mom doesn’t follow her instructions. Was this serious? I had no idea.
At first, I was nervous about the whole situation. What was this guy’s angle? Why am I becoming involved? How does he know mom would want to take my shopping tomorrow? And why would mom buy anything I wanted her to? Was he blackmailing her?
There was way too much to think about so I took the obvious, the easy, route and did as the police officer suggested. I pushed away all questions and decided that the next day, if mom did ask me to take her shopping, I would say yes. Nothing wrong with that.
Mom called for me from downstairs. She had started fixing dinner for when dad came home in an hour or so.
“Want a snack? Dad texted me that he’s working late so dinner won’t be for another couple hours.” she asked me.
“I can wait,” I said.
She busied herself working around the kitchen. You know, she even seemed a bit like her old self, bustling around, making small conversation. I sat down at the kitchen table and gave her the pleasure of my poor small talk. Things seemed quite normal.
Later that evening, I watched her cavity search again before falling asleep. The next morning was quiet. I had completely forgotten about the emails until mom knocked on my door.
“Can I come in,” she asked politely.
“Sure,” I replied. My heart was beating hard as I recalled what the officer told me.
“I’m going to out to run some errands. Would you like to come with me?”
“What errands,” I asked.
“Oh just a few small things and maybe some clothes shopping at the mall.”
“Sure!” I almost screamed it out.
Mom looked at me quizzically – I doubt she expected me to say yes – before replying, “Great — get ready then and we’ll head out.”
At the mall, mom went right to the old woman’s department of Macy’s. The racks where lined with the same turtle neck sweaters and loose black pants she was wearing at that very moment. I was bored out of my mind as mom took her time looking through every single sweater on display. Maybe this was a stupid idea.
It was almost a half-hearted accident when I complained to her: “Can we go to another store, I’m going crazy in here.” She hesitated for a split second, then said, “Sure. Where would you like to go?”
I really had no idea how to answer that, so I just pointed at one of the stores outside the glass doors into the main corridor of the mall. We walked out of Macy’s and into Forever 21.
This was a very different store. The mannequins wore short denim skirts. The racks were lined with colorful dresses, see through knit sweaters, and button up blouses. There were high heels on the shelves and sparkling jewelry hanging on display.
Mom walked around slowly, evidently a bit out of her element. I casually grabbed a black flared skirt and thought to myself “why not?” so I showed it to mom and asked, “What about this?”
She laughed, you know she has a charming laugh, and said, “Maybe for someone half my age!”
I chuckled with her and we walked on. I guess this really was a pipe dream anyway. Maybe ten minutes later, when mom was busy browsing the jewelry section, my phone buzzed. It was a text and it read, “Are you at the mall?”
“Who is this?” I replied.
“You know who this is. Are you at the mall?”
Figuring I’d go along with it, I wrote “Yes.”
“Is Melissa doing what I said she would?”
“Not really”
“Try again in a couple minutes.”
I didn’t respond to that. Was there someone watching us? I shrugged off a shiver and joined mom. Not one minute later and her phone chimed. When she looked at it, her eyes widened and she spun around, her eyes darting every which way.
“What’s wrong,” I asked her — trying my best to pretend I no idea of what was going on.
“Oh, oh nothing,” she said, “just thought I heard someone call my name.”
“Let’s try another store,” I suggested. I admit I felt a bit bad for her now that I was seeing how nervous she was becoming.
As we started to walk out, I spotted that same black flared skirt. I grabbed it on impulse and asked once more, “Are you sure you don’t want to try this on?”
She looked down at what I was holding, paused, then looked back to me. I did my best to act bored, like I didn’t care. Then, she said the magical words, she said, “Okay, I’ll see how it fits.”
Let me tell you, it fit her well. When she walked out of the dressing room, she looked ten years younger. The skirt flared around her white upper thighs. It wasn’t sultry or offensive, but it sure wasn’t something I would expect to see my mom in.
“Well, what do you think?” she asked me.
“It looks great on you!” I blurted out.
“You don’t think it’s a bit much?”
“Not at all, you should just wear it out. It’s a nice day outside anyway.”
“I don’t know…” she mumbled nervously. I just shrugged and started walking out of the store like I couldn’t care less. A couple minutes later and she met me outside. She was wearing the skirt. I smiled but stayed quiet.
“How about some new shoes?” she asked, pointing across the hallway.
“Sure,” I said.
I was a step behind her, watching the skirt bounce with each step, as we walked into the shoe store.
I picked out a few classy black heels for her. They weren’t obscene, just dressy. Mom shrugged her shoulders and told one of the assistants her size. When the assistant came back, and mom sat down to put on the shoes, I stood above her trying to see up her skirt.
Her phone chimed once more and she paused to look at it. Her eyes became nervous again before she sighed and put her phone back down.
“Parker, can you help me put this one on, it has a lot of small straps,” she asked me.
“Sure,” I replied with some real surprise.
Mom crossed her legs and dangled her bare foot in front me. As I sat down in front of her, I could her see milky white thighs. I wanted to see more
“Could you put your foot on the ground,” I asked as I pretended to struggle with the fancy heels.
She hesitated and then uncrossed her legs. I did my best to convince her that I wasn’t trying to peek by focusing all my attention on getting those heels on. It must have worked because I sensed her legs relaxing, her knees falling apart, and I took the opportunity to glance up.
She was wearing black panties with a hint of lace. The lights in the store were bright and I could see bits of pubic hair poking out through the top sides of her panties. I continued my pretend struggle with the heels. I moved her feet around, moved the shoe around, all getting her legs spreading further and further apart.
Maybe because I was her son, but this whole time she was quite relaxed with me sitting between her legs. Her face was calm and her eyes were just looking around at the other racks of shoes. It was around this time I realized I had a bit of the perverse in myself. I wanted to see her embarrassed, see that face on her like the face she wore during her strip search.
So, I called over the assistant.
“Can you help me with this,” I asked him. Mom almost sat up, her mouth open like she was about to say something, but she didn’t. I smiled at her and she looked at me confused.
“Of course,” said this college kid as he knelt beside me. Mom’s knees were spread open a good foot apart. Her face was flushed. I could tell the employee was getting a good eyeful. His eyes kept darting up between mom’s skirt and back down to her shoes which he fumbled with mindlessly.
Finally, all the straps were buckled and mom stood up to look at them in the mirror. Her cheeks were red with embarrassment.
The show at the shoe store continued for a little while longer. I took every opportunity to get mom’s legs spread open. There were these pair of thigh high boots that you had to really straighten out your knee entirely to get on. Her thighs spread open almost three feet apart, her skirt bunching up towards her waist. There must have been at least five other shoppers there who, even standing, saw right up her skirt.
After that, I purposely dropped a pair of heels over the side of the bench and asked mom to pick them up. She bent over the bench, and the skirt rose almost to her ass cheeks. There was a large mirror behind us and her reflection pointed out to the passerby’s who saw a dark shadow where her upper thighs came together which hinted at the start of her panties.
We eventually left the store with a couple of shoe boxes in hand and mom wearing one of my favorite pair of heels. They caused her to arch her back slightly, which made the flared skirt sit even higher up on her mid-thighs.
The day continued like this for hours. Mom would get the occasional text and ask me to help her with something. At a small clothing store with nothing but dresses, there was just one fitting room in the corner that faced out. It had red curtains which you had to pull closed. When I asked mom to try on this light blue sundress, she made a conscious effort to close those curtains completely.
But, about ten minutes later her phone texted again, and this time when she went to try on a different dress, she hesitated with the curtains and left them partially open at the sides. I moved to the opposite corner of the store and could see right into her dressing room. There was an overhead light which illuminated the room more than any part of the store.
Her back was towards me, and she was undressing down to her bra and panties. Her panties hugged her ass, with a bit of cheek peeking out beneath the cotton. The room had a mirror which she was facing and from which I could see her large breasts hanging down gently, covered and supported by a padded black bra.
There were other shoppers in the store. Some older husbands had migrated to where I was standing. They pretended to be browsing the racks, but every so often I noticed their faces dart up to catch mom trying on clothes. I think she must have known we could all see her, but her eyes never took notice.
My favorite store was Victoria’s Secret. We passed by it and mom quickened her pace, but I paused her and suggested we go in. She looked like she was about to say no, but yet again just shrugged and walked in with me. The store felt a bit surreal, with a mom and son surrounded by all this lace and lingerie. I picked out a few unpadded lace bras for her and some lace panties. By now she was used to me choosing the racier style of clothing.
I waited for her outside the fitting rooms. The store was quiet and even the few employees who were there didn’t seem to take much notice of us. I figured out of all the clothes so far, these pieces I would have to recommend her sight unseen. But, sure enough, after a couple minutes mom opened the door slightly and asked me how they fit.
She was wearing a dark red lace bra. There was no padding and I could see her chest heaving, her breath heavy with nerves. Her areolas were dark behind the lace and her nipples poked out from the cold mall air. Her stomach was flat with a few freckles and just the smallest hint of love handles around her wide hips. The panties were a matching set. Her labia and pubic hair pushed up against the dark lace.
I did my best to pretend like this was normal, like I wasn’t ogling. I’m not sure she bought it. Her eyes were downcast, her cheeks flushed, her lips quivering. As soon as I said, “definitely get that one,” she closed the door quickly.
A moment later and she shouted out for me, “Parker can you help me with this? I can’t undo the strap.”
“How can I help?” I replied nervously.
“Just come in here for a second,” she said with a stutter.
I opened the fitting room door and closed it behind. Mom was turned away from me and I took a second to look down at her shapely ass, barely covered at all by a dark red thong.
“I can’t get this clasp off,” she said as her hands fumbled with the bra strap. I couldn’t tell if she was doing this because of another text, or if she really needed help.
I too fumbled with the clasp for a little bit. Maybe a little bit longer than I needed, but I couldn’t help eating up the sight in front of me. There was a floor length mirror and I could see my mom’s face was downcast, her eyes closed like she was ashamed.
Finally, I got the clasp undone and started to pull the bra off. As my hands brushed up against the side of her breasts, as I felt her soft skin against my fingers, mom jumped away and mumbled, “Thank you! You can leave now.”
I closed the door behind me. Her tits felt amazing, even the small feel that I got, and I wanted to see more.
We left the mall with dozens of bags in arm. Mom was wearing an opaque white blouse with three buttons undone at the top. You could see a hint of a lacy blue bra hugging her cleavage. Her skirt was still that black flared skirt and her shoes those same heels I picked out earlier. I stole as many glances as I could, helping load her bags into the car, watching her bend over the trunk, opening the driver’s side door and watching her legs briefly spread open as she got in.
When we arrived home, dad was sitting in the living room, watching the news. He turned to us, looked at mom and said, smiling, “you look nice!”
Mom chuckled and replied, “Don’t get used to this – who knew our son has such a taste for fashion.”
I felt a bit insulted at that but just smirked, letting them have their moment. The rest of the weekend was uneventful. On Sunday mom was wearing one of the dresses I picked out for her. It was a modest piece, hanging just above knee length, that wrapped around her torso and gently snugged up against her breasts. I couldn’t tell what she was wearing underneath.
**Ch.3**
***Bill***
Melissa walked in on a Monday afternoon looking better than I could have hoped. She had on a black knit dress which clung to her chest and hips. Through the material you could see the outline of her bra cups and straps. I gestured to the security room and she walked in without looking at me.
“You look lovely,” I said as I leaned up against the table upon which I fucked her more times than I could count. She didn’t reply, her eyes were looking off into the non-existent distance.
I continued, tauntingly, “your son must have good taste.”
“Why? Why are you doing this to me? Why bring Parker into this? Are you contacting him, what does he know?”
She was right where I wanted her. I smirked.
“Get on your knees,” I said, ignoring her questions.
She sighed and five minutes later I felt like violating her mouth so I came then and there, my hands shoving the back of her head deep onto my cock. She gagged, swallowed, and gagged again. When I released her, she was gasping for air.
“You know,” I said as she was recovering, “you’d look nice in pearls. Do you have a pearl necklace?”
I gave her a second to respond between breaths, but she was silent. SMACK as I slapped her across the face.
“Answer me, bitch, I don’t like repeating myself. Do you have a pearl necklace?”
“Yes, yes, I have one.”
“For now on, you wear it and some nice earrings to match. You understand me?”
“Yes sir”
“Good, and tomorrow, wear red lace panties and don’t you dare think of changing before our little meetings. I will know. Whatever you wear, you wear it all day. Got it?”
“Yes sir,” she said with a sullen face.
“Good, now leave.”
As she collected herself and started to walk out the door, I called out with a smile, “Oh and Melissa, pay my compliments to your son.”
***Parker***
I never imagined mom would actually wear the clothing I chose for her. But when Monday rolled around and as I was getting ready for school, I spotted mom coming downstairs in one of the least provocative dresses I found. Nevertheless, it was still a dress I picked. She looked great in it.
During history class that day, mom was not herself. Instead of moving around class during her lecture, she kept seated behind her desk. I’m guessing it was her new work attire that she didn’t want to be seen in. Truth be told, I felt bad for her. Then again, I was also happy to no longer see those sweaters and pants which made her look like a WASPy grandma.
During dinner, with dad and myself, at the table, mom was quiet. Dad was never very talkative, but mom was. She always leads the conversation. Occasionally she would look up at me like she wanted to say something, ask me something, but instead she just looked back down at her food. The tension was killing me.
“Are you okay, mom?” I asked.
“Yes, yes,” she mumbled, “just a headache.”
“Would you like an Advil?” dad asked.
She shrugged her shoulders and replied, “I’m sure it’ll pass soon, honey.”
And that was the extent of our dinner conversation. Later, as I was walking up to my room, mom confronted me.
“Parker, has someone… Has someone contacted you?” she asked. I could tell she was nervous.
I played naïve and replied, “What do you mean?”
“Just… you know what never mind. Parker, we’re a family right. I know we don’t talk about what happened a couple weeks ago. But we’re in this together, right?”
“Are you sure you’re okay,” I asked again.
“Just… I need to hear you say that you’re one my side. Just say you’re on my side.” Her lips were quivering. Did she suspect me of anything? I don’t know. But she sure was making me feel guilty — as if a large pill was in my throat that I couldn’t swallow. But I had to go along with her. I couldn’t back out now. And you know what, I didn’t want to.
“I’m on your side, mom” I said with confidence as I approached her with a hug. Her eyes were moist with tears. I pressed myself against her and felt the fine material of her dress beneath my fingers, her breasts pushing up against my chest.
“I’m sorry I’m so emotional — you shouldn’t see me like this,” she said as I released the hug.
“That’s okay, I’m sure you’ll feel better in the morning. Goodnight.”
“‘night, Parker.”
And with that I went to bed, feeling more ashamed than ever.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/ag1m2r/mom_and_the_police_officer_p2_mf_mdom_humiliation