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Homecoming Hypnotism

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by anonymous

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Mark Eldridge flight landed more gently than most, so gently, in fact, that he was barely aware that the wheels had touched down, startling back to reality as the other passengers about him on the plane, dressed formally and smartly with suits and layered dresses, prepared to disembark. There was no sense in hastening to get ready, however, as there were still end of flight checks to be taken care of, and he settled himself a little deeper into his seat, which was not the most comfortable, pressing the tips of his fingers together.

No one noticed him, the man with neatly trimmed facial hair (he did need a shave, however, though it had been hard to find a personal barber out on his travels) and blonde hair that was neatly swept to the side, not a single hair out of place. Everything was just as it should be and his blue eyes shone with inner contemplation, smart slacks hanging just so over his legs, although the price was evident in the smooth tailoring. No one needed to look close to see that not a stitch was out of place, his class surely above the rest of those on the flight, although he made not a single complaint about his travelling companions. Things overseas were far more tenuous than a single bout of air travel and the country of his home birth felt the effects of the war, twenty years or so back now, so keenly that it would be ingrained in the days of a generation before fading to history.

This much he knew but that had not stopped life from moving on, human beings slowly managing something of a return to normal life and being, the air raids stopped and businesses booming. Not much pleasant was said about the ones who had started the world war to begin with but there were still the after effects too to take care of and artefacts to be reclaimed, which was just why he had been studying and, of course, working in the field of archaeology in his time away. The effects were widespread and he was determined to do his part in the best way he could, even if Mark was only, at that point in time, at the youthful age of twenty-six.

And unmarried. His mother, Sarah Eldridge, had never failed to forget to remind him of that in her many letters to him, although not all of them had arrived in the right order. Maybe things would have been different if she and his grandmother, Victoria Eldridge, complete with her piercing, imperious stare, had not hassled him so, moved into the forefront of his mind on a daily basis, but it was far, far too late to consider anything of another course of action now that he had set off on his chosen road. A glorious road too it was destined to be, so much so that he could not help but allow his lips to curve up on just the one side in the faintest of smirks, cocky to the last and understanding the gravity of what he had been planning for, in all actuality, several months. A hasty plan, indeed, was not a plan that he would have wanted to undertake at all with the family name in such prominence and at such personal stake.

For he had something on his mind that was soon to come to pass, something very detailed and intricate that had come to light during his time studying and working in India. A culture rich with history and teachings, he most certainly had not been at any kind of loss for fresh material to learn, although not even a man as deviant as he had expected to come across what he did. And that was about to change the course of his entire life from then on out.

He could have used his newfound powers for good but, well…just where would the fun have been in that?

Off the plane in Ohio, a whirl of smartly dressed airport officials, all getting the people of the passenger flight where they needed to go. For some, it must have been their first time flying but, even at his age, Mark was an old hand when it came to the flights that had reinstated after the war. There was no sense in holding back from life, after all, and in doing his bit he also wanted to learn and do as much as he could, immersing himself in the culture and heritage of India, the teachings in meditation.

Ah, and just who could have possibly known that the teachings would contain such pleasure at the end of them? He waited for his bags, smiling at no one, a towering, imposing figure of a muscular man who had kept up with his fitness regime even overseas. Everyone parted around him like the Red Sea from the Bible itself and he allowed them to, patient and biding his time until the chauffeur came to pick him up, the sleek, black vehicle conveying status and power in a way that machines had an innate ability to do.

And, the whole way home into the countryside where the family mansion lay, he plotted. There was nothing that would stop him, not even the grime and sweat and tiredness of travel, nothing that would stop him from putting his plans into motion the very moment he returned home. There was much work to do and he had to keep going, making the bare minimum of polite conversation with the chauffeur whose name he did not catch and whose person he would never see again. The price paid was none of his concern, the family coffers overloaded in the figurative sense – for money was not stored like that anymore, but it was still nice, in its own way, to think about all of their riches overflowing, the liberty it provided them. Yet it was liberty itself that, strangely, he sought to strip from the first two lovely ladies in his life.

His hand tightened into his fist, knuckles turning white under tension. The chauffer's eyes met his in the rear view mirror and slid away again a moment later. Mark wondered if he caught something in his eyes. Maybe, maybe not. Either way, it would not come to matter very shortly indeed.

Nothing about the estate seemed to have changed in his time away, the display of comfort and riches as extravagant as ever with the groomed hedges and sweeping land lining the driveway. Every tree resided exactly in the place designated to it, trimmed by the gardeners and landscapers, and the fountain bubbled away perfectly before the steps leading up to the grand front doors, every last inch of the mansion oozing a sense of loud elegance. They were there to make a statement, as it was, and not even Mark could have imagined his family toning it down in the slightest when everything that they could have ever have wanted was taken care of for them at a moment's notice, a snap of one's fingers and a passing on, of course, of the ever-present coin and payment.

He would take payment of a different kind from his family, however, having been under their care and almost their service too for so many years. Maybe they did owe him something, the son pushed so far and so hard in life, but maybe that was just his own sense of entitlement coming through – not that it was something that would ever be examined and deciphered by the curiosity of another soul. No one would know what he did with them as he pushed open the door, his mother, Sarah, standing smiling at the bottom of the staircase with her gloved hands clasped together before her breasts.

“Mark! Oh, my son!"

She rushed for him politely, not breaking stride from a walk even as her pleasure in seeing him once again shone in her blue eyes. He'd gotten his eyes from her but the curls in her richly blonde hair were put there by time with the curlers, the little rolls of spiky beauty making her locks, ultimately, soft and wavy, so much so that something in him ached even then to run his fingers through them. She was dressed in a long, demure summer dress that came all the way down to her ankles, legs still clad in pantyhose and everything about her as prim and as proper as it had always been. The only hint of something a little rebellious about her was the smear of red lipstick adorning her lips, shaping them to a more appealing line: a little trick that he was sure that she had picked up over the course of her time working as a secretary. Of course, she had not needed to work but even a woman had to find something to occupy herself and her drive had been just the thing that had landed her a husband – to begin with anyway. It was good that she still had something to keep her mind busy.

However, as he watched her approach him as if in slow motion, it was not her attire or her smile, fixed in place, that caught him the most, but just how her breast moved lightly as she walked, not quite constrained as much as they should have been by her brassiere. She was a forty-four, double-D, cup and preferred demure underwear, even when it came to lingerie. He knew she was a forty-four, double-D, cup because he'd looked in her lingerie drawer before. Maybe even then that had been the beginning of the end that was, really, only another sort of beginning.

Shoulder blades pushed back sternly, he looked down at her, his mother a good head and shoulders shorter than him, not returning the hug.

“Mother."

The word came out softly and lowly and something in his tone made her take a step back, eyeing him uncertainly even as she obviously looked him up and down, fussing with his jacket and tugging it a little straighter across his chest, even though it had, honestly, been perfectly passable before.

“You must get these creases out," she said, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth, a shake of her head coming across as more disapproving than ever. “Did you not have anyone to manage your laundry while you were over there? Oh, you must tell me everything. But one moment – I shall have Helga fetch us refreshments!"

But Mark did not move as she turned, looking for the bell with which she could call her personal maid (if she did not hear it, there would surely be hell to pay), waiting with a small smile for the moment that had called him on for so many months. After all that, it was time, and his mother would finally see the man he had become out from under her wing.

“Mark? Mark, are you coming? Do come along now."

“Everything's going to change now, mother. You don't know that now but you soon will."

She paused, confusion crossing her face. It was hard to see just how a woman like her could be confused when her life, as it was, was already so easy and simple. Really, it was only outside affairs that complicated it but she hesitated with her torso half-turned from him, lips parted and her brow, ever so slightly, furrowed. It was not an appealing image, although he did appreciate getting to see the rise of her breasts through the front of her dress, pulled tauter than perhaps she would have liked to see for herself in the dressing room mirror if she'd taken a moment longer to observe her calculated appearance that morning. His eyes dropped and she shifted uncomfortably beneath her son's gaze, completely and utterly unaware that he would be getting far more than an eyeful all to himself soon enough.

“Mark? Whatever do you mean?"

“Pacta Sevanda."

Two little words, two words of power infused with just the right amount of desire, and they did the trick that they'd been designed to do. As if every last bit of energy had been leeched from her body, she crumpled to the floor in a heap of that pretty, floral summer dress, lips parted widely as if to moan. Not a single sound broke the tentative, sweet seal of her lips, however, and she closed her eyes, rendered asleep, the trance taking hold as both her body and her mind moved beyond her control.

Mark smiled, standing over her, hands closing and unfurling to and from fists, although his only lingering tension lay in excitement and anticipation. He was not worried, oh no, but his mother should have been as she slouched in her trance, unaware of what was going on around her. Why, if he deemed it so, after planting the seeds in the language of his letters for so many months, opening her up to the notion of mind control with a hint and a suggestion, he could have had her forget everything and all could have gone back to normal. Yet why would he have wanted to do that when he could now live out every kinky fantasy of his that he'd had of his mother in the realm of mind control?

The time had come.

“Stand."

And, like the puppet she now was, a programmed vessel for his will, she stood elegantly, fluidly, with her eyes open, a small, overly serene smile stretching her lips. She could have slipped away in her mind without the use of any kind of mind control, a drugged state encompassing her, but it was all him and every last bit of the power he'd commanded for himself. And the trigger… He'd keep that the same, a word that was easy to remember as he surveyed the woman who had once held such power in his life, in a position over him where, as her son, he had been no less than forced to love her by society.

Well, he did want to love her, just in a different way than what society wanted of him. And that was something that he could do too.

Groaning softly in the back of his throat, he stood before her, eyes riveted on her form and figure, swaying lightly, although she would not fall in such a scenario without him dictating it of her. That was the beauty of the depth of the mind control, muscles locked in place to hold her body upright.

“Strip."

She did not hesitate, moving to obey without changing the direction in which she was facing, giving him a front row seat to her dress falling lightly down the full length of her body, unclasped at the back and easing from her soft, feminine shoulders that had not done a day of hard work in her life. It was not for Sarah, of course, to take on the physical labour of men, after all, even if she did not even have to work at all with her wealth and lifestyle at her fingertips, every inch of her soft and pleasant to look at – even more so when she was stripped of her modest garb.

And it would always be much, much better to see a woman in nothing but her bare flesh, her milky skin kept pale away from sunlight, stepping out of her dress and slipping her low heels from her small feet too. She'd always had quite small feet as if her very body had been afraid to take up too much space at any one time but Mark's eyes were on her shapely legs, the curves of them running up to her thicker thighs, clad only in pantyhose, which was soon to drop to the floor too. But that pantyhose and the underwear that resided above it too was too simple and modestly cut for his liking and Mark found himself shaking his head before even his lustful mind had caught up with what his body was doing. Still, his shaft throbbed, plumping up just a little with blood as his arousal grew from the mere sight of her stripping down at his command before him, curls not hiding a single thing even as they fell down her shoulders and across her collarbone, tipping forward to continue her appointed task.

“Oh, no, mother…" He said slowly, pacing around her in a wide circle, taking in every inch of her hungrily down to the light, white underwear she'd donned, all pleasant enough if she wasn't going to be required to take off her clothes. “This will not do… How could you wear such a thing in my presence? Remove it immediately."

She was already doing so, however, even if that did not quell the rush of power flooding his veins, the bulge in the front of his slacks easily obvious and evident to anyone who cared to look. He did not wonder whether the maid was nearby or if they were at any risk of being walked in on out in the entrance all, the display of finery and sweep of the majestic staircase the most dominating features of the room, but continued on as he was. There was no way to go, after all, but forward once he had set himself on such a path and he was not someone who had ever deviated from a set route, even if it was one that he himself had put down.

The underwear came off, large swathes of fabric that covered her considerable assets falling to the floor. He could not have called it 'lingerie' as it was undeserving of the name, although he had to admit, to himself only, that his mother, most likely, could not have possibly have been expected to be told to strip on his return home. Maybe she would have worn something nicer if she'd thought it was her husband that she would be welcoming? Ah, but he would give her more pleasure than her husband and his father ever had before: that was something, at the very least, that he was confident in. All else, well…that was his pleasure to be taken however he deemed it fit to be taken. And that control would give him the ultimate ecstasy that no orgasm could ever live up to either.

She had not shaved but the hair at her crotch was short and neatly trimmed, making her a woman to fuck and not a little girl. Mark shivered, fingers twitching, and yet he held back I only to take pleasure in the show, sweeping his gaze up to her perfect breasts, pulling down under the weight of her age and gravity, which could not be helped. But her nipples were still large and full, responding to the chill of the air that they could not have been expecting either to perk up into luxuriously hard and full nubs that he ached to take into his mouth and suck.

“Turn."

Obediently, she turned in a circle – just the once. More could be had, of course, if the command came, but it was more than enough for him to take in the rise of her buttocks, the flesh soft and eager for the grope and squeeze of his hand. He knew what pleasures lay below the crease, the fantasies that had kept him awake night after night in India, and shivered in anticipation, lips parted and a rush of overly warm breath escaping his lungs in a rush.

“We will find something finer for you. What fetish lingerie do you have…Sarah?"

It no longer felt right to call her as his mother, the power dynamic shifting. And yet even a little word like that could have the right tone and lilt placed on it so that the power teased back in the other direction, son coming above her in the order of the household in the line of order. Never again would Sarah ever be able to actually disobey him, even though he would, at times, enjoy her little acts of rebellion, how she would try to push back against him, try to free herself from her sweet hypnotism.

She'd always be his.

“Nothing," she breathed, eyes cast down. “I have white lingerie, what I wore on my wedding night."

He nodded, eyes glittering.

“Yes… That will do. For now. You will go shopping today and return with something…nicer. Red. Fetish. Something you would never have worn before. And you will not disappoint me. Go put on what you have."

As if in a trance himself, hardly able to believe the power he wielded, Mark followed her up the stairs, leaving her clothes behind on the floor. Maybe Helga would wonder what had happened but she would gather everything up dutifully all the same and no questions would be asked as she knew well enough when to keep her mouth shut. He didn't have to worry about it, however, as he followed the sway and clench of his mother's perfect backside up to her bedroom, the grand room appearing more like the living quarters of a person than somewhere where she only needed to sleep and dress.

He didn't hear the phone ringing down the hallway, the sitting room calling their attention. And yet the person on the other end of the line would wait and wonder just what was happening as no answer was forthcoming.

That one could wait.

The lingerie drawer was just where he expected it to be in the heavy, solid oak chest of drawers placed opposite the window, although the curtains had remained drawn, casting the room and the four-posted bed into a tinted purple glow. Later, he would command her to leave the curtains and the windows open so that everyone who cared to look in could see her in the realm of debauchery, regardless of the humiliation she suffered for it.

The lingerie came out as she knelt there, the perfect little subservient housewife, although she would not and he'd never want her to be his wife. No, she was his mother and he'd wanted the curves of her luxuriously older body for so very long that he was sure that he could not have held back to do the mind control at all if he'd stayed in India for even a month or maybe even a week longer when it came right down to it. No, the fetish and fantasy had taken hold, waking up with his cock hard and needing relief after the image of his mother had bowed down before him on her knees, lips parted for the gift and offering of his cock.

Just how far would she be willing to go if he released her? Would she still obey him, his dominating hand? Mark chuckled lightly under his breath but she did not make any move to demonstrate that she'd heard him, drawing on the lingerie in a sensual swathe of satin and lace, perfectly tailored for her body.

Releasing his hold on her just a little, he smiled, arms folded across his chest as she came out of her trance slightly, blinking down at her body and the lingerie she held, shaking, in her hands as if she had never seen it before.

“Mark…" Her voice trembled, rising fearfully at the end. “Mark… What's happening? Oh, I am not decent."

Yet she did not try to cover herself up, eyes darting about as she could only stare up at him, glancing between her son and the garments that some part of her mind wanted to don. What was happening? Did she want to… No! No, what was that thought doing there? He was her son! Her lovely boy, her son, Mark…

Sarah shuddered and gasped, eyes widening so much as her eyebrows shot up from the sheer strain of keeping herself in place, fighting his hold as her heart wrenched and something in her yearned for him, the bulge in his slacks. And yet she could not understand why she was looking there of all places - oh! She would not have even behaved in such a crude, lewd manner with her own husband! – and unable to drag her eyes away as she imagined her very own son pushing his cock into her mouth, shoving it up into the back of her throat and treating her roughly, using her as nothing more than a woman and a vessel to be fucked.

She moaned, lips turning into a dark little 'O' of desire. It was a dirty word and yet one that intrinsically fitted the situation at hand, blonde waves and curls illuminated in purple shade, a sultry colour. Yes… that was what she needed, something sultry, and her wedding lingerie in her hands didn't seem to cut it anymore, the bodice stretching down to her navel, leaving not much of a strip of skin between the top half and the bottom half of the ensemble. Set in with diamonds, it caught the eye and she moaned for it, unaware of what she was doing as part of her mind screamed to run and the rest just wanted to model it for her darling son.

“Put it on."

Swallowing, she shook her head – or, at least, Sarah tried to. Her head only actually moved a centimetre or so from one side to the other, her defiance futile and weak at best. There was nothing she could do to stand up against him as her heart pounded, straining to beat a path through her chest even as her lungs tightened, refusing to allow even a single, wanton drop of air into them while the blood roared in her ears.

He had to push her along, even if it was good to know that it would hold to a degree even without the trigger word. But there was nothing like seeing her eyes glaze over again as she moaned his name, the mind control secured just as and when he needed it to be.

“Pacta Sevanda."

Back again, her hands moved quickly, lips parted in a serene, otherworldly sort of smile as she sought to obey him as quickly as possible. On, on, on… The lingerie found its place on her body as she admired her form, yet could not help but worry that it was not quite as Mark wanted it to be. Could she make it more appealing? The lingerie had been designed for a young, thinner figure, in all fairness, so the overly tight brassiere and bodice did, at least, have the effect of pushing her breasts together and creating an overly whorish cleavage that he could not drag his eyes away from. He must have liked it then and Sarah hastened to obey the rest of his demands, sliding on the garment for the bottom half that folded down her thighs like shorts that men were, showing off her curves as the expensive diamonds glittered and sparkled, objects of lust for women as much as women were for men.

He paused her, taking control as he squeezed her breasts, admiring their curves in just the moment before she slipped the straps of her lingerie up over her shoulders. Ah, that moment could wait and he cupped and lifted them in both hands, hissing softly between his teeth as he lusted after her body. Damn... The woman had something, so very much of something, going for her and it entirely was a wonder that he had not acted on his desires many years before, squeezing her breasts roughly, too roughly. If Sarah had been more with her senses, in charge of herself and her own body, she would have shoved him away but all that passed her lips was a low, lustful moan, arching her back to push her tingling nipples into his hands, the mere brush of the hard, erotically aching nubs up against his fingers enough to make her body thrum through with illicit desire.

But playing with her breasts could not take the place of letting her tease that lingerie on and it sealed itself over her breasts as he stood back to admire the effect. Sarah gasped. It was tight, too tight, but they covered less than they had on her wedding night and that was good enough for Mark who murmured his approval, even if he would have rather have seen her in something fetish-inducing, something that could have her down on her knees in like a whore in a brothel. Was that really what he wanted his mother to be for him? Oh, the rush of pleasure that came to him and his throbbing shaft told that tale in its entirety for him. He just needed to exert enough of his control over her to plant the idea of taking his slacks off in her mind and, well, the conditioning did the rest of the work for him.

As she worked her way into his slacks, sliding both them and his underwear down to free his cock, he rocked his hips with a low groan, revelling in the sensation of her hands on him. Her nails were not painted but he would have her apply crimson polish in time to match the fetish lingerie he wanted to see her in. None of this white…no. No, that was far too pure and divine for what and how he wanted to see her, her breasts spilling out of the lingerie so far that he could see the round of her areola, the tight brassiere unable to contain her. Everything would be better once he had her in what he desired, imagining her in a bra that showed off her nipples, cut beneath the breasts, something that a woman of her passion and status and stature would never have been caught dead wearing.

And yet he'd make her. He'd make her do it even as she stroked his cock with a low moan, lips parted as if she was already anticipating sucking it into the back of her mouth, taking him deep. That seed of suggestion had not taken all that much to lock into her mind either, Sarah's muscles twitching as she waited eagerly and obediently on his next command, nothing more than his toy to be used and abused just as he pleased, every which way he pleased.

“Suck it."

It could have disrupted everything as his mother took the head of his cock into her mouth, sealing her lips around it as if it was in just the place that it had always been meant to take, the vibration of her moan travelling wantonly through his length. Heavens… Yet Mark was startled from his lustful reverie by the phone ringing and not even Sarah in her mind controlled state could help her startle reaction, jumping and looking up at her owner Mark with devotion shining in her seductive blue eyes.

Ring, ring, ring… Did people not know that they should not be disturbing them on his homecoming day? She looked at him and to the phone on the dressing table, although it was just the smaller one: the one in her dressing room was larger and far more extravagant than the little bedroom one to get her ready for the everyday.

“Do not answer it."

But she was not going to, oh no. That was not what her Mark wanted, her owner. Yes, it was good to be owned and she could let that phone ring and ring and ring and ring all day long as long as she had him there to lust after her, to control her and to take her just as he willed. She needed to be there, sucking his cock into the back of her mouth and moaning around him as she lusted after her son, pleasing him and doing all that he willed, ignoring the ring of the phone regardless of just how long it went on for. The person on the other end of the line, however, would prove to be instrumental in Mark's command of his little kingdom, but all would come in time…

Mark was in no hurry.

In another home not too many miles away, Mark's grandmother clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth disapprovingly, shaking her head. Just what was Sarah thinking, not answering the phone? It was not right for her to keep Mark, her own grandson, all to herself on his return after so many months, really, it was not. It was rude of her, that was what it was, and Victoria called again, dialling the number and pressing the corded phone to her ear with a hand that dripped with rings and bracelets, her jewellery a lingering memory of her husband.

Her grey hair seemed to tremble in self-righteous indignation but she could not know that her grandson was, at that very moment in time, getting a blowjob from her daughter, the woman that she had raised to be better than that for birth. And neither could she know how he cursed, ignoring the phone as it rang and rang and rang, Victoria stubbornly pressing on and on and on as she struggled with a groan and a grunt to get hold of her family.

A rush of heat flooded Mark as he hissed through his teeth, leaning over his mother as he practically hammered into her mouth, intent only on his own pleasure as she was forced to take and gulp down every last punishing stroke he delivered unto her. On and on, he pounded, the power swamping him, a delirious cocktail more powerful than any drugs created by human hands. No, he had something better than that and all it took was the trigger word from then on out to get her lips sealed around his shaft, suckling on him like she'd never done before. And, when she was clumsy, scraping him with her teeth, he could simply adjust his control over her to make his mother into the best cock-sucker in the world, drooling on his shaft as she moaned around him, pre-cum thick and heady in her mouth.

Yes… Yes, she had to please him, she had to please Mark above all else. Dimly, Sarah was aware of the thoughts as he ripped open her bodice and growled, suckling a breast into her mouth even as she realised too that she was flat on her back on the bed. She was doing what he wanted, all that he wanted, and that was all that she truly needed to do, knowing that she was in the right place to serve her Mark, her owner. The lingerie she wore was, of course, not designed for such rough treatment but having it ripped open and the seductive bottom half torn from her just so that he could penetrate her sent her heart pounding into such a lustful overdrive that her pussy clenched, tightening so much that it truly was a wonder that she did not climax right then and there.

Over and on top of him, her back to him. Mark sat up and wrapped his arms around her, squeezing and groping her breasts, nipples poking through his keen fingers. Divine... A man could want for nothing more as he savoured the moment, the warm flesh of her breasts pushing up against her fingers as if she wanted more, always so very much more. And she would be the perfect one for him as she moaned, torn between pushing back against him and into the touch on her breasts, kneading softly and increasing the pressure, breath harsh on his lips as he breathed through his mouth.

Now!

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The time had come! Her buttocks slipped back and back and back as he tugged on her, wanting something, searching for something... And there seemed to be only one place for them to go as she sat down on his cock, his shaft magically finding her pussy and soft folds as if it could have been in no other place at all. She moaned, tipping her head back, and his lips landed on her throat, kissing and nipping passionately as she sank down deeper and deeper, lost in his spell of mind control as she squirmed luxuriously in his lap.

Imagine if Victoria could have seen… Mark laughed hoarsely, drunk on power, and ground his hips up with as much energy as he could possibly divine from his body, sweat prickling up and beading lightly on his skin, the lines of muscle demonstrating his easy kind of vitality. The phone call, it could only be her that would ring and ring and ring, pushing on even when it was quite clear that she was not wanted in that present moment. Yet she was his next target even if she did not know it yet, the woman probably pursing her lips and sighing in an over-exaggerated fashion as she wondered just why both her daughter and her grandson were so dead-set on ignoring her. She would not, however, be ignored for very long when he now had so much say in it.

Sarah moaned, her buttocks rising and falling sinuously, smoothly, as if she was simply moving through a dream. And it was an exceptionally good dream, if so, her son's hands tightening on her breasts as he squeezed them hard enough to hurt, her body a vessel with which he could do as he willed. Her pussy clenched down around his shaft and she imagined that it was rippling, the pleasantly soft flesh on her body jiggling every time she ground down, their bodies moving together in perfect unison. She couldn't remember a time where she'd been wetter, hair just about beginning to cling damply to the very nape of her neck, although that was absolutely nothing in comparison to her sodden pussy wrapped around his cock. Fingers pinched on her nipples and she tensed, lips parting in a breathy moan that should never have come from her lips with her son beneath her.

A grind and rock of her hips had her thighs bearing down on him with greater force and urgency, spread so wide to rest on either side of his hips, the males in their family so much bigger and stronger than the ladies. Truly, she could not have stood up against him but all she wanted was to keep that thrusting, ravaging cock plunging into her over and over again as the tightness in her belly grew and grew more and more with every passing second.

And then it hit her: a thought that was not truly her own but would be taken as her own. Wouldn't she look stunning in some fetish-like lingerie? Would that not make her toes curl even more luxuriously and, of course, please her master Mark and owner even more? She needed it, the red lingerie that didn't cover anything really at all but drew his attention to her best assets, her body something to be admired and tweaked exactly as he saw fit. She'd wear everything he told her to, do everything he told her to, and she could only see herself clad in that delectable crimson set of lingerie, large breasts pushed up wantonly and spilling out as if they could not be contained even by such seductive wear, her body a temple to the gods of lust and so very much more.

Mark gasped as her cunt suddenly tightened noticeably around him, grunting into her ear as one hand dropped to her hips, his raised knees restricting his range of motion as he sat with her in his lap but allowing him to keep her down on him, his cock driven into her as deeply as possible. It came in a rush but the head was more than enough to get him close to the edge anyway and he groaned out his orgasm with a masculine thrum against the back of her neck, his mother bouncing on his cock as if it was the only thing that mattered for her in the world. And that was just as it should be as Sarah too squealed and curled her toes in orgasm, panting so heavily that he would have feared something far worse was happening to her if the woman was not completely and utterly under his control.

He'd make sure she was alright, yes… Yes, through everything else, he would care for her. But she was his now and that changed everything, the course of his life and her destiny forever intertwined in such a way that they would never again be the same.

Tenderly kissing the back of her neck as he spent himself inside her, Sarah moaning through her climax, he smiled to himself. It was hard to concentrate as her pussy teased around him, seeming to want to coax every last drop of cum from his aching balls, but he wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else in the world. Lifting the mind control just a little bit – he needed her to have at least some modicum of autonomy to leave the house and do what he needed her to do – Mark murmured to her, ignoring the exhaustion trembling erotically through her body.

“Get to your shopping."

He wanted to see that lingerie on her, after all.

*

He did not wait long to take her again, cementing the programming as he had been instructed. She'd gone out shopping that day without saying where she was going and he knew that she was carrying out his orders while he sat at home in the study, enjoying a whisky. That was one thing that he had not had the luxury of enjoying over in India and something that he eagerly anticipated, along with the red lingerie that his mother had returned with. He hadn't seen it yet, of course, but he'd heard the crinkle of expensive tissue paper: a tell-tale sign if he'd ever seen one.

Mark, however, had forgotten to command her to find him after her shopping excursion and, like the little programmed woman she was now, she'd simply carried on with her day as she'd intended to do before. Make him a cake? Oh, of course, she would! She had so much to do now that her darling boy was back and so much to hear of too! Would he prefer strawberry jam though or was blackberry a favourite? It did not matter as she had both preserves but she had to do what he wanted the best: yes, she did!

It could have been said that she was already quite well disposed to his control, happily humming a tune to herself as she flounced around the kitchen in a new dress, although this one was a little higher, him having planted the notion of being less demure in her mind. It was just a little change but one that he noticed immediately as he stood in the kitchen doorway, some of the cupboards in the ludicrously designed space too high for her to even reach. Sarah stood on the tips of her toes and tittered as she strained, a spoon dripping in batter clasped in her other hand. And yet she could not reach even as her breasts jiggled and her body trembled with exertion, wanting the next ingredient on her list just to make her son the very best homecoming cake that he could ever have imagined and then some.

“Wear this."

He dropped the bag of lingerie on the floor, not wanting to open it yet until he could see it on her body. Clearly, she had not heard him approach, for she gasped and whirled about, eyes wide and hand flying to her chest.

“What? Oh, Mark, you startled me! What are you…"

But she trailed off as her eyes fell to the bag and she knew, just knew, what he wanted her to do, breath catching in her throat even as she gulped and tried, oh so very desperately, to shake her head. He would know, he would, he'd understand why she could not do it – and yet she could not even move her head! What was wrong with her? No… The memories of earlier that day, his cock in her mouth, flooded back and she pressed her trembling fingers to her lips, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. Just what had her dear son done to her? And yet she could not deny either just how much her loins pulsed and throbbed for him, something tightening inside her that wanted to obey even if her rational mind reeled.

He wasn't taking no for an answer even as Sarah's hand drifted to her neckline, toying with the button there as if she was going to strip herself down right then and there, without even the trigger word to set her off. Her son inhaled sharply but she could not know or understand what that little gasp of pleasure meant as his shaft throbbed up thick and full and hard, straining to be released so that she could do her duty as his whore and ride him all over again. His fingers trailed across her cheek and she shuddered in place, unable to even shift her weight away as she remained paralyzed under his abject command.

“You will do this, mother."

Deeper and deeper… His control reached for her, claws sinking in and dragging her to him in the realm of the subconscious, those unconscious wiles and desires. Sarah swayed, her lower jaw falling slack, eyes hopelessly glazed over. Her fingers twitched on the wooden spoon in her hand, all for show for she did not need to bake, truly, when they had servants and cooks to take care of that for them, and it slowly, so slowly, fell to the wooden countertop, polished and shined but not by her own hand. In the mansion, their family home and estate, his mother had known nothing but luxury and all that was about to change even if she would still have the standard of life and living that she had become accustomed to over the years as a devoted wife and loving mother.

After all, he had his own little kingdom to build, still…did he not?

“Pacta Sevanda."

And then she was his again, turning obediently to face him and waiting on his will as her fingers trembled to obey. Mark smiled and loosened his tie, the mess in the kitchen leftover for the maid to clear up later; he was sure that it would not be the first time that his mother abandoned a baking project halfway through, caught up in some other, more alluring wile of fancy. Only, this time, it was her own son who drew her away into debauchery.

The next thing she knew was that she was in her bedroom again with the lingerie on her body, but it was not like any lingerie that she would have ever bought for herself. Blushing heavily, Sarah groaned and tried to look away from the mirror but something compelled her to keep staring at her reflection, the strange sort of teddy lingerie wearing as if like a one-piece swimming costume, although it was not the polite, sweet one that she had for herself that covered rather a lot of leg. No, this one slipped in around her crotch and did not cover any of her legs at all, although there was something between her legs too that did not feel quite right. It revealed more skin than it concealed too, the sheer, red lace leaving nothing to the imagination and not even giving her large breasts any support, nipples poking through the material as if they demanded that they were on show.

It was sexy. Too sexy for her. Sarah moaned and shuddered, hair falling softly back over her shoulders as a pair of hands that, for a moment, appeared to be disembodied, floating forth to sweep her hair away from the heated, cloying blush on her neck. And she hated how much part of her wanted to lean into his hands, fear wrapping its hands around her throat and choking down what should have purely been desire. For he was her son and, really, why should she not want his strong, muscled arms, just how they wrapped around her, how his cock felt in her mouth, tongue pressed sweetly and submissively up to the underside…

No! I will not!

_ _

Yet, she would. Simply because she had no say in the matter at all, even if she was yet to understand that for herself. She would bend to his will and all it took was a firmer hold on her mind to have her dropping to her knees again with her legs parted like a slut who could not resist him. She couldn't resist her son.

“I see you obeyed my other command too," her son said, stepping into frame beside her, fingers trailing down her stomach to pull her lingerie away from her hips and crotch. “I wonder if it hurts?"

Something in the mind control and conditioning, however, must have kept it from doing so, for the tattoo on her crotch, freshly shaved from hair and crossing up to her lower stomach, read in shivering, luxurious cursive: 'Programmed One. Owner: Mark. All hail King Mark.'

“What… No."

“Pacta Sevanda."

And then she was again his obedient servant, the sense of terror that the tattoo had instilled in her gone in but a moment. No more was she scared but moaning out his name as she twisted back and forth before him, showing off to his whim and control. Every angle of her was scrutinised and he loosened his belt as her heart leapt, slowly and tantalisingly stripping off his clothes even as her pussy tingled, wet and ready for his passion and lust. She must have been good for him if he was giving her such a treat, a gift indeed, for a servant's only job and task to Mark was to obey and she was going to do that for the rest of her life: whether she wanted to or not.

There was no need for any foreplay but she still relished the sensation of his fingers sliding into her, tasting her essence, as she posed on the bed on all fours, gyrating like the slut that she'd never been. Words came from her lips that should never have passed the tentatively sweet barrier ever but she wanted him to fuck her, to slam into her, to treat her as nothing more than his possession. Of course, she was there to be used by him but that could not hold back the rampant sexual desire flooding her veins, the heated rush sending her head spinning and spinning and spinning, his thumb just barely brushing her clitoris to a throb of sensual pleasure.

“Oh, more… Mark, please… More!"

Her begging was even sweeter music to his ears than her moans and it was something that he was only too happy to oblige in, even if for the simple fact that another orgasm would further lock in his control over her. He wanted her able to go about her daily tasks – the ones he set for her, of course – without needing to worry about traffic or whether or not she was going to forget some vital component of living along the way, but getting her off again, well, that would make her tremble into his hold so sweetly. Her obedience too was swiftly becoming more than simply divine, reverent in how she cried out his name, her buttocks tensing and thrusting back as she ground onto his hand and fingers with all the passion of a woman who he could only have otherwise have suspected had been denied for months on end. He could not, however, speak for her relationship with others as she was now his and his alone.

No man could have resisted her body, still ripe and fertile, and he knelt up on the bed with a grin on his devastatingly handsome face. Was he just good looking or did he think himself better looking than he actually was because of everything his mother had said to him over the years? Maybe her sweetly thick flattery had been the first thing to prompt that darker, deeper need in him to fuck his own mother and there would never again be a first time to slide his cock into her from behind, digging his fingers into the feminine flesh of her buttocks as he pulled her rear cheeks apart.

“Yesss…"

He could not help but hiss out his desire, teasing the head of his cock through her slick pussy lips, glistening with an overdose of her own arousal, the woman simply unable to hold back her lust. Maybe she'd been a slut all along. But now she was his slut and his slut alone to do with as he willed.

It would forever be that way.

He could hold out or he could slide into her and the answer was obvious as his cock found its home once again in her hot snatch, plunging deep. Mark groaned at the same time as she did, neither of them taking note of the phone ringing yet again, their family trying to disturb them unduly from their tryst. And if Victoria was that keen to get in touch, why didn't they invite her in too? That was the only sensible answer, of course!

But Victoria didn't know that as she stretched the corded phone as far as it would go, clicking her tongue as she stared out the window of her own home, a slightly smaller mansion than that which she had passed on to her daughter and grandson but still impressive. She had much to pace and only so much cord with which to do so, thinking that they were enjoying themselves too much to spend just a few moments speaking with their dear, old mother and grandmother respectively. Both of them should have been paying attention to her and not enjoying themselves so much, although that did not stop her twisting, curling worry from growing, the thought present in the back of her mind as to whether or not something else had gone wrong, something that would prevent them from calling her back.

Yet there was nothing wrong in Mark's mind and Sarah could not have said so either as he fucked her doggy-style, gripping the bed sheets and howling out her pleasure as he forced her over the edge into orgasm after orgasm, lust taking her mind for a ride. There was nothing she could have done to tell apart one orgasm from the next as her ecstasy flourished, hips working in a blur to pound her, slamming in over and over again. Her pussy clenched at him but the sheer volume of sexual juices that her body lustfully produced made it easy to keep thrusting, leaning over her back as he threw his full power into each and every one of his thrusts, glutes working and squeezing down.

More. Always more. That was where lust and fetishes came from, that liking for something deeper, that special spark and special high that nothing else could compare to. He needed his mother – just not in the way that he had when he'd been less of a man but now that was different. Her body shifted and arched sensually in the lingerie and Sarah had not even been with her senses enough to realise that he hadn't even needed to tuck the lingerie to the side to get at her pussy, the lewd slit at the crotch allowing him perfect access to her pussy. The slit up the middle separated her large and lovely breasts instead of cramming them together, accentuated by a darker red again and he gripped them in both hands with a deep grunt that rose up from the back of his throat, lust rising more and more with every passing moment.

He could not tease her nipples through the lingerie but that was alright; there were other options to come for that particular kinky nuance later where he would pinch and squeeze and grope to his heart's content. Pressing down into her chest, holding her in place, he bore his weight over her, groaning deeply and claiming her breasts as his, his property alone, with the bulk of them spilling over his fingers even with the lingerie to rein them into their rightful, alluring place.

A thrust of his hips, a grind in deep. It was so easy and yet everything was better as his stomach flipped over, now that he had what had driven him mad for the last few months. And he could not stop himself from fucking her through her ongoing climaxes, heaving for breath as even his cheeks turned red from exertion, hair flopping out of its normal, slick poise, his sense of holding himself together crumbling on the precipice of orgasm. And, when his own orgasm came, he felt as if his cock was pulsing up even thicker and larger than before, balls slapping her cunt as he threw himself over her, covering her body in one long, lustful moan.

Sarah cried out brokenly as he spent himself inside her, body trembling from head to toe from her pleasure. On and on, surely no one woman could sustain such pleasure? But it was not for her to decide anymore, just her king, and he had his pleasure to take too, hot cum filling her as it trickled viscously down her pussy lips, further marking her as his. And that was just what and who she wanted to be, regardless of anything else in her life, her son's to use and his alone, cock pounding her deep into the day and night.

Eyes closed, she rolled her head back, pulse jumping in her throat. There never would be anything else for her. His semen filled her and spilt out as he pumped her fuller and fuller, imagining that there was a way…no. No, maybe the concerns of him mounting her bareback where for another day and another time. All she had to do was please her king and everything would be wonderful. As he'd look after her always and things would always be well as long as he was around to take care of her for the rest of her life.

Gently, Mark lowered his mother down to the bed with a wicked glint in his eye that may have been more becoming to a seductress than a man who was only just learning what he was truly capable of. His cock slipped from her and he spurted the last drops over her buttocks, marking the seductive lingerie. It didn't matter though as there would be plenty more where that came from and, besides: he'd have her wash it as evidence of her subservience to him in their little kingdom. Heaven knew that it would be a kingdom of pleasure indeed, however, by the time he was done with it, making the world everything he could ever have known and so much more too.

Looking down at his mother as she flaked out with her arms above her head, Mark raised an eyebrow. It was time to begin too on that front.

“Things are different now, mother… You will always, without fail, wear this fetish lingerie at home. You will buy more. Do you understand that?"

Flat out and moaning on the bed, she nodded with a smile, cum drooling from her pussy as if he had pumped far more into her than he actually had. It was an image that made his loins tighten up and tingle wantonly all over again but they had time, plenty of time.

“Yes, Mark…"

He smirked, sealing it away behind his hand – just for a moment.

“Well done, mother. I am your owner now: you know this. Your tattoo says so and you only ever have to look down at it to know who you belong to. Secondly, you will tell no one of this without my permission – not a soul at all."

Of course, his mother was hardly in a position of control in her own mind to go against him and merely nodded dumbly, eyes half-lidded in softly submissive appeasement.

Perfect.

“Also, for the moment, you will also wake me every single day with a blowjob. Fail in this and I will be extremely disappointed in you. There will be consequences for failure. And you will not fail."

“No!" Sarah hastened to cut across him, eyes wide and pleading but not to go against him in any way. “No! I will not fail, Mark, I promise! Every day, just like you say!"

It was funny how easily the control and conditioning had taken hold but he could not have been more pleased with the end result as he softly stroked her cheek, glad of how she leaned her cheek into his hand.

“Good…" He smiled. “Now, lie back and relax, mother. I have a call to make."

There was only one person he could possibly call now that his first programmed servant was under his control and she had been pacing her living room for hours already, wondering just what was going on. Her rings clanked together lightly, too large and heavy for her bony, gnarled fingers and hands, but she answered the phone with all the pleasant warmth in the world, putting on a show for the grandson she adored.

“Grandson, oh my... And I had thought you had forgotten about dear me! How was your trip?"

Victoria smiled, ignorant, of course, to what her grandson had done, for he was far from the sweet boy she remembered in that moment. Yet all that was to come would change the course of their entwined lives together for the better: all for King Mark's ultimate pleasure.

“It was a delight, grandmother, and I cannot wait to tell you all about it."

He had to concentrate to keep the smouldering tone out of his voice, desire creeping in as his mother lounged on the bed, stretched out as an offering to be tasted and desired. Squeezing her breasts in his free hand, he played with them as if she was a mere object before him, panting and moaning lightly so that he had to press the phone and the mouthpiece in just a little closer to his face.

“Actually, I was going to invite you over. Are you free? There is so much to tell you and..." He bit his lower lip delicately, sealing away a smile as Sarah panted, her nipple primed between his thumb and forefinger for a delectable little pinch. “There is so much to catch up on. When can you come?"

And it was set, so easily too. Victoria was happy, already putting together the outfit and jewellery that she was going to wear, dressing to impress at all times with the utmost attention place upon her appearance. But, in his mother's bedroom, what should have been her private sanctuary, Mark's eyes narrowed with desire, pupils dilating, as he put the next stage of his plan into action, so very easily inviting Victoria over the next day – something that, of course, she had simply been waiting to hear. And wasn't he the good grandson he'd always been to think of her like that?

When he hung up the phone, Sarah had positioned herself attractively across the bed, eyes half-lidded as if she was trying to lure him in again, a siren whispering out her call. Smirking, her son squeezed a breast, divinely clad in that first set of lingerie – there would be more to come, he'd have her go out again – that part of him still wanted to tear from her body like a tiger going in for a far more lustful kill.

“Grandmother will be mine too."

She would have no say in the matter.