Bitch Mother's Karma

"You creep..."

I held up my right hand and shook my wrist. I didn't need to elaborate.

"Your wish is my command," she murmured, halfheartedly.

"Louder, bitch!"

"Your wish is my command," she exclaimed, with slightly more enthusiasm, though it was still weak, forced.

"LOUDER! Like you mean it! Like you want that cash! Like you want MY DICK!"

"YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND!" she screamed, and tears rolled down her cheeks.

"On your knees. And from henceforth, you refer to me as 'Master.'"

"Ick..." she cringed, put her hands on her hips, rolled her eyes, and looked away.

"MASTER!" I yelled at her.

"Fine, Master!" she replied, threw up her arms, and dropped to her knees.

"You're going to suck my dick, mom, and I'm going to cum in your mouth, on your face, and on the floor, then you'll clean the floor, clean yourself, and cook our dinner, you fucking bitch!"

"I don't know how..." she muttered.

"What?"

"I don't know how! I never did... that..."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Geez, when was the last time you had sex?"

"With your father. Decades ago, before the divorce. We didn't do it much. I... I don't like sex. Never have. He and a boy in college were the only ones... So don't expect to fucking force-fuck me and have me like it!"

"I'll like it, though, fucking you..."

"I'm sure you will. You're sick."

"I'm horny now, too, looking at your tits. You're fucking hot, mom, and you can learn to suck dick. You'll learn, practice on me. I'm going to take your oral virginity. I'm going to sodomize your pretty little foul mouth..."

"You pig."

I broke out my cell phone and searched online for "how to give head" and found a well-put together video on a porn site, giving very precise, detailed, step-by-step instructions, showed it to my kneeling Bitch Mother, and made her practice the sucking motions on my finger.

Surprisingly, she picked up on it quickly, was working my finger like a pro, seemingly taking out her aggression on it...

Figuring she was ready, my heart beat faster and I pulled down my blue Armani sweatpants and red AX boxers, took my six-inch, pulsing hard, thick cock into my hand and grabbed a fistful of her soft curly hair, and impaled her gorgeous face onto my swollen dick.

She kept her eyes open, staring up, directly at me...

"Ohhh," I gasped and sighed. My mom's wet, hot/cold mouth engulfing, bobbing on my throbbing pipe.

My mom's lips were quite full and puffy and felt extra nice and smooth running along my shaft.

I pulled out every 10 seconds or so and smacked Bitch Mother across the face, playfully, with my dick, and rubbed it along her pouty lips...

"Lick it!" I commanded, and she obliged and tongued my cock from base to tip, which felt so amazing. I just couldn't believe it, getting a blowjob from my mother, in my kitchen.

After she ran her tongue over my dick, I stuck it back in her mouth and began viciously face-fucking her, my hands on her head, grabbing fistfuls of her curly hair, and I thrust my hips, plunging my cock as far down her throat as possible and I could hear her gagging...

"Ohhh, you're my bitch, mom, you're my bitch, my slave, my fucking cunt mother... Suck my dick, you fucking horrible bitch..."

"Rurrrrmmm" I could hear her gargling on her spit and the scintillas of pre-cum I injected into her slick, wet hot mouth...

A tingling went up my spine and I knew I would cum.

I, myself, hadn't fucked or even beat off in a few days, so I had a lot of juice in my balls, and what better way to spend it than shooting my load into my Bitch Mother's mouth!

The first shot rocketed up her throat and I pulled out, shot the next white rope of pearl jam at her angelic face, splashing, hitting her just below her cute button nose, and I finally jerked off the remaining shots onto the kitchen floor in front of her.

Bitch Mother forced herself to swallow my load and then clasped her hands over her face, gagging, dry heaving, and crying. I pulled up my underwear and sweatpants, picked up the sponge, and tossed it to her.

"Well done! Now clean up the floor, bitch! Afterwards, wash yourself up and prepare dinner..."

Bitch Mother collapsed to the floor, shaking and mewling.

I decided to change my approach, not wanting her to jump out the window or some shit. I didn't hate her that much. I was actually beginning to like her, really.

Hard to truly hate someone who let you face-fuck them and cum in their mouth...

"Listen, mom, I know it's weird, abnormal, whatever, but I'm a horny young guy, you're a hot mature lady, and I've always wanted you sexually. I've had this incest fetish for years... Let's make it fun. Maybe you'll enjoy it."

"It's disgusting!" she yelled, between sniffles and tears.

"Why? Why is it disgusting? I've got needs. You're taking care of them. Look, be nice, cook, clean, fuck, finish the contract. I'll be nice if you're nice. I promise."

"The cat's out of the bag. You already sucked me off. Later tonight, I'm going to fuck you. Maybe you'll like it. Maybe the other two guys you were with didn't do it right."

"Now get up, on your knees, and sponge up my cum from the floor."

"Okay..." she whimpered.

"Okay what?"

"Okay, Master..."

I patted her on the back, and she rose to her knees, bent over and scrubbed up my cum from the kitchen floor.

I admired her ripe round asscheeks in her black panties and watched them jiggle and sway as she cleaned up the floor. I couldn't wait to bang Bitch Mother from behind. Or lie on top of her, while she was face down, hover atop her and penetrate her from behind, feel her sweet ass below me...

Yup, that was it. That was how I'd fuck her later... Fun to be the arbiter of that...

I slapped Bitch Mother hard on the ass, told her "dinner at 7:30" and went back to the bedroom, rested in bed and played on my phone.

I watched a porn video or two, incest roleplay, and read a couple incest stories online, and, really, I couldn't believe it. I'd just face-fucked my mom and was going to stick my dick into her pussy later that night.

After she cooked me dinner, of course!

...

Bitch Mother returned from the kitchen, walked into the bedroom. She'd put her bra back on but had taken off her pantyhose and was only in her black Paradise silk frilly panties.

I admired her girlish walk, how her hips swayed, and she gave me a snooty look but said nothing and went into the bathroom.

I followed her in.

"What are you doing?" she implored, obviously perturbed I'd invaded her privacy.

"I want to watch you undress. Watch you shower."

By this time, she knew better than to talk back. After her face-fuck, she clearly knew the extent of her ownage.

Wordlessly, she undid and threw off her bra again. And I again marveled at her tits.

They were really a perfect pair.

"Are they real?" I asked, eying her boobs.

"All real," she replied, dutifully, her gaze averting mine.

"They're real and they're spectacular!" I cried out.

And something amazing happened. Bitch Mother laughed! For the first time in my life, I heard her laugh, and she smiled, too.

"You like Seinfeld?" I asked, smiling myself, but feeling awkward to have this breakthrough conversation upon watching my mom get undressed in the bathroom.

"Of course I do!"

"Really?"

"Really."

"But I never saw you laugh before or make a joke."

"You never saw me watch Seinfeld. Or It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. I laugh a lot at that show."

"Really?"

"Yup, and stand-up comedy, Joey Diaz, and especially Richard Pryor. I love everything he did."

"You were so cold... I had no idea you had a sense of humor..."

"It's not like you ever made the attempt to get to know me, Master," she emphasized "Master" rather sardonically.

"You were always beating me, putting me down."

"That's how my parents raised me. That's how Russian parents are... Didn't hurt me too much, becoming a professional model. Didn't hurt you either, developing that stupid app, basically retiring in your 20s."

"Stupid app?"

"You know it's stupid."

"But it made me rich."

"It did."

"And it got me you."

"It did. That and your father being a total shit."

"Haha, yeah, but you should have been nicer to him and me. Works both ways, missy."

"Do we really have to do this? You already had your way with me."

"Yes, we do. I still want to fuck you. I want that pussy, mom... I'm gonna fuck you."

"You are so awful."

"I know. So are you. Off with the panties. I want to see your pretty pink cunt."

"Speaking like that to your mother..."

"My stone-cold fox of a mother, yup."

"Alright then. Your wish is my command, Master..."

And with that, Bitch Mother yanked down and off her panties, revealing her forbidden cunt to me.

My jaw dropped. To my delight, her pussy was bald. Clearly waxed, too, not shaven.

Just how I like it.

"You wax?" I inquired, kneeling in front of her, gripping her juicy thighs and poking my head around her vagina, inspecting it.

"I had a hair removal procedure done, many years ago. Needed to for my bikini..."

Bitch Mother shut up when I buried my face into her pussy and licked alphabetic shapes on her tasty sweet clit...

"Ahh, ohh, you, stop that, I don't... I can't..."

I continued licking and sucked her clit into my mouth, nibbled on it and cupped, squeezed her tight velvet ass, released her swollen clit, slurped at it some more and circled, rubbed my stubbly face all over her pussy, and tickled and tongued her clit again until she couldn't hold back...

"I'm going to... Oww, owww, AHHHHHH!!!!"

Bitch Mother, clutched my head, ground her hips into me and twitched and quivered and creamed into my mouth. I sopped up every bit of bitch juice from her drooling clamshell, lapping up her musky, succulent cunt nectar.

"What... Why did you," she stammered as I got up and traced my finger from her thighs to her pussy to her tits.

"Because I felt like it."

It occurred to me that could have been her first orgasm in years.

Maybe ever.

"Take a shower. Then go cook us dinner." I commanded.

"Okay," she nodded, turned, and stepped into the RainShower.

I watched her naked ass ripple and looked forward to spreading her immaculate asscheeks apart later.

I stood and watched her, through the translucent curved glass sliding door. The piping hot water steaming, cascading down her curves. The bubbly soap on her satin, snow white skin.

She shot me furtive glances but seemed to have loosened up a lot after I ate her out. She had to have known how much I was getting off on watching her bathe.

I stood silently, watching, and massaged my cock and balls, as she lathered up in Qatari gold virgin honey soap, scrubbing it onto herself with my super soft London honeycomb sea sponge.

She looked back at me as she rubbed the honeycomb sponge southward, stopping at her pussy.

As we made eye contact, my cock, which had already stiffened up from eating her pussy, got even harder and I took off my sweatpants, went to the undermount sink and squirted coconut oil body lotion into my hand, and began to jerk off as Bitch Mother clamped harder at her pussy with the honeycomb sponge.

Under the sponge, I saw that her index finger was penetrating her pussyhole and I could hear her moaning.

I jerked back harder, and she picked up the pace, fingering herself furiously, using the sponge to massage her clit.

Her body convulsed, and she cried out loudly: "Yaaaa," and I could tell she'd cum again.

After she came, she quickly turned around, went back to washing herself, shampooed her hair, and kept her back to me the whole time.

Admiring her ass, I kept pounding my meat, and eventually let loose my own cum, as she bent over to wash her feet.

I let the cum stay on the marble floor, pulled up my sweatpants, and returned to the bedroom.

Little by little, contrary to my presuppositions, Bitch Mother was opening up. My slave was behaving quite well...

She emerged from the bathroom in one of my white baroque Versace bathrobes and strutted over to her suitcase, got dressed. Again, I had another voyeuristic thrill, watching her disrobe, dress.

She changed into a simple pair of navy-blue Dior cotton sweatpants and a matching blue tight silk Hermes v-shirt.

She wore no underwear.

Although simple attire, she effortlessly made it fabulous and impossibly sexy.

"Go make dinner," I told her, as she slipped into a pair of grey wool socks.

"I don't know how to cook. Don't expect it to taste good."

"The instructions are included. Plus, there's a link to a video."

"What if I burn down your condo?"

"I've got insurance. Fuck it. Just don't kill us."

"I don't even know how to turn on the oven."

"You didn't know how to suck dick, either, or have an orgasm, and you learned both of those skills. Now you learn how to cook. Even a fucktard like you can make a simple meal like that. Everything is in the fridge. Go figure it out, bitch."

"So romantic, you are..."

"What?" I got up, pissed off, ready to slap her again upside the head.

"Your wish is my command, Master," she said, this time without the sardonic tone, and she scurried off to the kitchen, without further insolence.

I played on my phone and read another incest story, this one about a mom riding on her son's lap during a bumpy car ride and the cheeky bastard of a son slipping his dick up into his mom's pussy, underneath her skirt, while his dad drove the car.

It was an apocryphal tale, sure, but fucking steamy!

Yup, I might have to try that with Bitch Mother, I pondered. Smash her in a heli-cab, her in my lap, flying out over the city or along the coast.

I wondered what the mom in the story's pussy felt like. I wondered what my mom's pussyhole would be like on my dick... Hopefully comparable to her mouth...

If her pussy wasn't good enough, I figured I'd fuck her up the ass. Since she's mine, I can do whatever I want to her... I'd fucked a couple ratchet skanks up the ass before and quite enjoyed it. Virgin tight every time.

Bitch Mother's sweet ass was begging for a sticking too... What a yummy ass indeed...

Speaking of yummy, I could smell the chicken roasting. Very succulent, the aroma. I guess Bitch Mother wasn't as incompetent as she thought.

I heard her yell something from the kitchen and figured it must mean dinner was ready, so I went in and saw that she'd done everything perfectly, the spread immaculate, even lit candles and dimmed the lights.

"Wow, mom, this is fantastic. See, even a fucktard like you can make a meal these days. Blessed internet!"

"If it doesn't sicken you, you can thank me after."

I paused for a second, wondering if Bitch Mother had poisoned it. Nah, I thought, she wasn't that sophisticated or malicious. At least I hoped not. Nonetheless, I'd let her take the first bite...

We sat on far opposite ends of the bleached oak dinner table and ate in silence. My few attempts at conversation didn't get too far so I had Alexa play soft classical music, Debussy, to lighten the mood.

"The chicken is juicy and tasty, mom. You sure you never cooked?"

"Runway models don't cook."

It amazed me how much of her identity was wrapped up into modeling, even though she'd not done it in years.

"Why don't you have any friends, mom?" I asked, figuring small talk wasn't going anywhere, and I might as well pry at her a bit.

"Everyone in the fashion industry uses each other. Hates each other. I have friends, but I hate them, and they hate me."

"Do you hate me?"

"Yes, sometimes. If you were never born, I could have worked longer, had a better career. I wish I didn't have you, but, like you say, 'The cat's out of the bag.'"

"Thanks, mom."

"But, I must admit, you did well for yourself. You went to college, on a full scholarship, made a mint off a stupid app, and, besides molesting your mother and being a disgusting pervert, you are a successful and handsome young man. I mean, you could have been a serial killer, worked for the IRS, been a politician or a telemarketer... You're somewhat redeemable."

"Somewhat redeemable. The kindest words I ever got from you."

"Don't expect any more."

"I won't."

We finished off dinner and Bitch Mother was about to simply get up and walk away from the table.

"Where do you think you're going?" I yelled at her.

"I'm not sure. To the sofa, maybe watch TV." She appeared surprised and oblivious to having forgotten one of her most important tasks.

"You have to wash the dishes. That's part of the bargain. Pick up these dishes, clean the pots and pans. Spic and span."

She rolled her eyes, grunted, and cleared the table. I sat as she gathered my dishes and whapped a playful slap on her healthy ass.

Peering over to the kitchen, I could see she didn't know how to properly wash dishes, so I brought one of my tablets in there, showed her a "how to do dishes, wash up" video and sauntered over to the crocodile skin leather sectional sofa in the living room, flopped down and flicked on my 152 inch plasma, wall-mounted TV.

Bitch Mother came and joined me shortly after.

"I fucking hate you," she seethed and sat next to me.

"Feeling's mutual," I shot back. "Let's watch Seinfeld."

"Let's..."

I had the whole series downloaded and surfed to the one about the masturbation contest (who could go the longest without masturbating).

"How often do you masturbate, mom?"

"Never."

"Never?"

"Never. I don't like sex."

"Why did you even marry my dad?"

"He had money. Models don't have long careers. He was a good back up plan."

"You didn't love him?"

"No. I didn't even like him. He was boring. I was his trophy wife. He had the money. It's that simple."

"And you never had anyone after him?"

"No."

"Never masturbated? Had a vibrator?"

"You are so disgusting. No, I did not. Why would you want to know that about your mother?"

"Because my mother is red hot, that's why..."

"I'm old."

"Mature."

"Old."

"Cougar."

"I am not a cougar. If I ever dated again, which I won't, it would be an established, worldly, sophisticated George Clooney type man, not a young, animalistic sex addict like you or your ilk."

"You were having fun in the shower there, though."

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Maybe a little. I got carried away. No one did what you did to me in there. It was..."

"It was what?"

"It was nice, okay? You depraved fucking pervert! Are you happy to hear me say it?"

"I am, yes."

"This is disgusting. I should have never let you do that. It was gross."

"Gross and fun."

"Gross."

"It's getting late. Let's go to bed."

"I'm going to sleep here, on the couch."

"No, you're not. You're coming to bed with me."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"I am your mother."

"So?"

"So, I should sleep on the couch."

"Nope, you're sleeping with me. In my bed."

"Can I just clean and cook? We can do like in the bathroom... You can touch me, just like that..."

"Nope. We're going all the way. I want to see what it feels like inside you. I want to know what it's like to fuck my mother. Return to where I came from..."

"You're not going to let up, are you?"

"Nope. So get up and get ready for bed."

Bitch Mother sat still on the sofa. I considered picking her up and carrying her into the bedroom but decided on an alternate strategy. A strategy that men have been using for centuries to loosen frigid females up and pry their legs open.

"How about a nightcap?"

I ambled over to the liquor cabinet, popped open a crystal-cut glass decanter of 28-year-old single malt scotch, and poured out a couple tumblers.

"You have exquisite taste in scotch. I'll give you that."

"Another compliment! Amazing!"

"Scotch like this will get you points, yes."

"I didn't know you like scotch. I never saw you drink..."