I smiled at her. She had no idea what she was in for. More fun for me.

She looked absolutely confused and terrified, which made my erection return almost immediately.

"I want you to go upstairs and change. You may put on a spaghetti strap halter top and some high-heeled sandal shoes.  Nothing else. Put the sandals on first and then the top. Once you are dressed as I have [i]commanded[/i] - I let the  word sink in - I want you to clasp your hands behind your head. You will walk down the stairs like this and walk to  me and await my further instruction. You will remain in that pose until I say otherwise. Go.

She looked stunned for a few moments. I kicked out at her sharply, striking her in the ribs with my boot. She broke  out of her trance and immediately ran upstairs, stumbled and fell flat on her face but quickly righted herself and  continued, barely slowing down at all.

I smiled and turned on Sportscenter.

-------

Some 10 minutes later I saw out of the corner of my eyes, padding down the stairs in her highest pair of heels and  clad in nothing more than the halter top I had earlier "suggested".

I watched her as she climbed unsteadily down the stairs.

"You look very appropriate."

She grimaced and continued navigating the stairs in her heels.

"Come here and stand flush with the coffee table with your hands behind your head and your legs spread."

She did as I commanded, looking plaintive.

I continued watching TV.

After about 30 minutes, I saw despite her best efforts she was starting to show signs of fatigue. I took some small  pity on her.

"You may kneel. You are still required to keep your hands in the Slut position, and your legs spread.". She grimaced  a little at being called a slut but did as I commanded. After about an hour of this her hands were trembling. I took  no notice, idly playing with my cock as I watched Skip Bayless make an idiot of himself and cast sidelong glances at  Lisa, fully enjoying her suffering.

Finally, after hours and hours, and what seemed like an eternity, she found the courage to pipe up.

"Joel is coming home soon," she said. "at 5:30."

Of course I knew this. I was simply waiting for her to speak, knowing she dreaded the punishment I would give her if  she were to speak out of turn.

"I know, you stupid whore. Get up and stand against the front door, legs spread. You may run upstairs and hide in the  bathroom once the door starts to open. I expect you to do a gymnastic bridge, on all fours, stomach pointed towards  the ceiling, in the bathtub, completely naked when I check on you. If you are not you will receive a severe beating  and perhaps I will pull out a few o your teeth.", I threatened. She sobbed a few quick sobs and assumed the position  I commanded besides the door. She had an utterly beaten look about her. She had no idea how beaten she was to become.

---

Before too long, there was the sound of the garage door opening.

"Stay.." I ordered.

She did nothing but trembled more and more.

"Stay until I say."

She shivered even more.

Footsteps.

She trembled and shook but still maintained the position.

Finally, the handle of the door began to turn.

"Run."

She dashed up the stairs as the door opened and Joel stepped in.

A sight to behold for the ladies, he was nevertheless a simpleton. A retard. What a fucking moron. how could  something so worthless have crawled out of her snatch. His twin brother, Bjorn, was more of an intellectual, but I  knew from my investigation of Lisa that Joel was somehow the favorite. Women always have a soft spot for the  weakling.

Both were 16, but whereas Bjorn was a reasonably good-looking if portly intellectual, Joel was Adonis personified, but  quite slow.

Smiling at the way her tits flopped in her flight an his apparent obliviousness to the situation, I greeted Joel.

"Joel! How are you! Your mother had to use the restroom but she will be down soon. I believe she fixed you a glass of  orange juice for your snack!"

Before he could even process this wealth of information I had strode into the kitchen and was pouring a glass of  orange juice for the retard and well before he had entered the room I emptied a flask of crushed Viagra mixed with a  sedative meant for horses into it and had stirred it in nicely.

He it all so greedily, his dullard's eyes shining. He sure was easy to please.

"It tastes... A bit... funny." he said.

"She made it extra special just for you. You know how special you are to her, don't you Joel."

".......Yes." was all he could manage.

Good Christ. I thought there would have been some redeeming value to this utter retard for him to love him so much,  but no. He was just a beautiful simpleton.

He drank long and deep. After a few seconds, he began to visibly sway.

I walked to him and put my arms around him.

"You look a little under the weather, there, Joel."

He grunted a bit.

"I'll help you to your bed. You look sick. I bet you'll feel better after a nice nap, huh?" I led him to his bed and  he fell asleep almost instantly after hitting the pillow. Pulling down his pants, I found an erection already pushing  the fabric

I went into the bathroom and saw Lisa still diligently. I took out a syringe with a smaller amount of the same  sedative in it. I showed it to her and her eyes got big as saucers an her lips began to tremble.

"This is going to hurt, but I don't care. If you cry out or fall, I will punch you in the face as hard as I can."

She bit her lip in response and closed her eyes.

I jabbed the thing roughly into her thigh and jammed on the plunger harder than I needed to.

I watched her carefully as she started to sway.

I helped her to her feet and put my arm around her shoulder when I sensed she could no longer sustain herself. She  followed me to Joel's bedroom without complaint. I dumped her on the bed, naked as her birthday and put her hand  around her son's fully erect cock. I framed a picture as she stared blearily back at me, obviously confused.

"Smile." The word brooked no argument and she was in such a drug-addled state that she actually complied.

Click.

I still have that picture framed in my house, her grinning like a dumb slut, fingers twined around her 16-year old  retard son's erect cock as he lay their with his eyes closed and mouth open. The first task of her day is always to  Windex the glass on top of the photo.

She seemed to sort of realize, even now, what I now had and a worried look started to cross her face, but the  sedative got to her and made her features go slack first.

Walking over to her, I lifted her up by her torso and pried her mouth open with my free hand and unceremoniously  dumped her face on top of her son's member. I took a few pictures like this, but had to lift her up for each one so  she wouldn't gag to death on it, as much fun as that might have been.

Click, Click, Click.

I took some more too, putting her mouth around the side, even managing to lift her up onto it to enter her vaginally.  That one took some doing, though, as I had to kind of use her arms to prop her up and arch her back so she wouldn't  just fall over. Realizing her son's limbs were in the same position every shot, I adjusted them a bit and retook some  of the blowjob ones for good measure.

Then I went even further, dumping her on him in a 69 position, being careful not to smother either of them. The best  was a wicked spur-of the moment idea I had where I rolled the idiot over, ass-up and shoved her face between his  buttcheeks as if she were cleaning out his asshole. Right after that one, I rolled him back over and took another  picture from behind with her splayed over him, her arms pinned behind his chest and his on top of her back and her  face resting on top of his at a slight angle. Of course, they weren't ACTUALLY kissing, but when shot from behind it  didn't really matter.

I even staged an anal shot, though of course I really just had her sitting in front of the idiot's dick. There was no  way I could get that thing in there without lubrication while she was unconscious.

Oh, yes, I had loads and loads of fun, staging such a wonderful mother-son rape.

I'd planned to let her wake in a bathtub full of cold water and ice and not show her the photos until later, but I  had another great spur-of-the-moment idea.

I hefted her up on top of him again, her on top of him, impaling her once again, this time in the rodeo position -  essentially her squatting down on his cock, facing his feet. I got a couple pairs of handcuffs from my briefcase, and  locked one around her right ankle, then ran the other under his massive chest and got the other one. The short length  of the handcuff chain forced her legs to bend inward and under him and looked seriously uncomfortable. Chuckling, I  squeezed the cuffs, ratcheting them down tighter, not enough to cut off blood flow but certainly enough to cause lots  of bruising. She, after all, was not here to be comfortable.

I cuffed her hands behind her back, this time shortening the chain to keep her wrists basically right next to each  other. I then ran a rope from that chain, over Joel's head,  and through the other handcuff chain, and lashed it good  and tight. I was about to leave them like that, but then noticed the way things had worked out, her hands were sort  of resting directly behind his head on the bed, which gave me another terrible idea. I got another, shorter, rope,  and tied a slipknot around his neck. I found a empty wastebasket in the room, and propped that against the head of  the bed and pushed her up to have her hands rest against that.

The sum total of all this is that she would be unable to get off him, due to his erect prong, which would last about  1 and 1/2 hours, judging by the life of the pill. If some evil man were to remove the wastebasket, she would have to  basically do one long, long sit-up to avoid inadvertently strangling her son. And there was, of course, the handcuffs  bruising her and the strain in her legs..

I glanced at her nipples. I'd planned to break her in slowly to the idea of torture, but why not? No reason they  shouldn't be in on the fun too! Besides, her chest looked empty without them. I got a pair of clover clamps from my  briefcase and was about to secure them on her. But then I figured... Why not let her dread a little. So I laid them  across her son's legs, so they'd be the first thing she saw when she came to.

This was just so perfect. I ran downstairs to get the video camera. This was utterly useless for blackmail, of course,  but I wanted this to be saved forever.

I gave her son another hit of the tranquilizer, intravenously this time. Lisa got a needle as well, though this time  full of caffeine instead.

I left them in their last position, with her lying on top, snatch impaled upon his dick, and gave Joel a topping-off  of tranquilizer, intravenously this time.

Lisa got another shot too, though this time the syringe contained caffeine.

I had the camera loaded up with a new tape and running well before she started stirring a couple minutes after the  shot. I had sat myself down to watch and was idly stroking myself while she started to stir. In her drug-addled haze,  it took her awhile to realize what was happening, and when she did, it seemed to come all at once, and she started  uncontrollably convulsing, screaming and babbling and crying all at once and trying to get off, struggling against  her bonds. I leapt to my feet and grabbed her arm hard.

I put my face right in front her hers and let her see my anger. "STOP!" I shouted. True, abject fear showed in her  eyes. I let myself smile wickedly.

"That's better." I brought my arm around and slapped the side of her face HARD. She let out a little yelp that brought  an end to her stupid litany of mumbles and little whimpers and shuddering sobs.

"Now listen up, you dumb cunt. You're stuck. You can't get off, unless you want to snap your son's cock in two. Is  that what you want? You want to ruin your little boy's manhood like you just ruined his innocence? She shook her head  no, still mumbling incoherently a little and sagging her head. I raised it up to look directly in my eyes. "Really,  how many mothers are the first pussy their sons enter? Or the first to suck them off? You must really be some kind of  wanton slut."

Of course, none of that was fair and only half of it true. She hadn't really sucked him off and he'd been completely  oblivious and she was of course unconscious and forced. But the words found their mark because of the haze and the  confusion and the shame of waking up with her little boy's giant cock wedged in her snatch. Tears welled up into her  eyes and she began to sob in earnest again.

I slapped her again, though not has hard. She still was sobbing, so I gave her a nice punch in the solar plexus to  shut her up.

As she sucked wind, I held her face up to look at mine again. I let her see a big, horrible grin.

"But it gets better, Lisa dear. As you probably haven't managed to notice yet, because you are too busy being such a  blubbering, useless bitch, your hands are propped up against a wastebasket. When I remove that wastebasket, if let  them rest against the bed, you'll strangle your son!

She looked at me with wide, terrified eyes, pleading me silently and babbling with her mouth again. How could this  possibly get any worse?

I pointed at the clock across the room. "There's about an hour and a half left on that erection pill, at which point  you can extract yourself from him. I'm not letting you out of your bonds before then. If you're too weak to maintain  your position, even to save your son's life, I'll just gag you and leave you here. I've already falsified the  purchasing receipts for all this stuff in your name and I'll leave them in your desk drawer, take all my stuff, and  leave you to starve to death with your son's rotting corpse fucking you until you die. You don't want that do you?"

All lies, of course, I wasn't about to let her or her son die anywhere near yet, not after all this careful planning.  And of course the nonsense about falsifying the receipts, how would I even do that? But she was in no position to  think critically. I just didn't want her to assume she could just flag when she got tired and accept whatever beating  I'd give her.

Anyway, she just mumbled and sobbed more and somehow looked even more desperate and hopeless. She was starting to  seriously shake now. I'd planned to break her in slowly, one new torment to savor each day, but this was just so much  better. A series of savage slaps to her face and breasts brought her back to something approaching reality. I made a  show of kicking out the wastebasket from under her. She rocked back briefly but quickly found her stomach muscles and  launched herself upright until the rope connecting the two pairs of handcuffs twanged taut, preventing her from being  able to support her weight with anything more than her stomach muscles. Her eyes started to tear up again from the  effort.

I let her enjoy this for a few moments before picking up the clover clamps and jangled them in front of her face.

"Now, I'd planned to put these on your tits for the whole time, but I feel just a little bit sorry for you so I have  a little challenge for you. If you can keep this on your tongue for a whole 30 seconds without any of your stupid  blubbering and crying I'll put them back in my suitcase instead. Would you like that? Would you like a chance to  prove your not such a stupid, weak, rapist whore of a mommy?"

The words found their mark and she cringed from them but nodded her head yes.

I smiled. There was no way she'd manage it. It's possible, of course, but I knew in her mental state and her current  tolerance to pain it just wouldn't happen. But it'd hurt her a lot and would hurt her inside knowing she'd "earned"  the added pain by being weak.

"Good girl. Stick out your tongue, Lisa".

She actually looked gratefully at me for the small praise and this small "mercy" of allowing her to suffer tongue  torment in addition to tit torment.

I clamped the thing on the center of her tongue. Almost immediately she started to shake and tear up. She didn't last  five seconds before she began to cry and whine.

"You're utterly worthless. Three seconds is all you can take? Utterly, completely, worthless, stupid, slut, WHORE!" I  slapped her again. The words hurt more than the slap, though.

I sighed exaggeratedly. "Alright. Fine, you retarded bitch. I picked up the loose end of the clover clamps. You can  take it off your tongue now, but you've earned a needle through toenail for disappointing me."

She looked at me in shock and disbelief.

I pulled the chain of the clamps taught. "What's wrong, stupid? Can't figure out how to get the clamps off? I bet  even that lackwit MORON of a son you shit out the wrong hole could figure it out. Pull your head and reel in your  tongue and pull it off, dumbo. Unless you just want both clamps on your tongue for the whole hour!"

This lit a fire under her and she began struggling, trying to pull back and fighting against the pain. But of course,  clover clamps just clamp down tighter the more you pull on them. She kept at it, tears in her eyes, pleading me  silently for mercy.

"PULL, you dumb bitch! I don't have patience for your useless bumbling! Get them off NOW or they're going to stay  on!"

This really got her frightened and she was crying and shuddering, pulling and pulling and pushing at it with her  teeth and pulling her tongue back in until finally they slid out of her mouth with a pop.

"Took you long enough." Was all I said. I grabbed her nipple and put the clamp on just behind it, doing the same with  the other one. She just looked up at me with these sad, beaten eyes. If she thought this was it, if she thought this  was the limit of depravity, suffering, and humiliation, she was in for a long, rocky, road.

I lay back and began to jerk myself off at a leisurely pace as I watched her struggle to maintain her position. Every  so often she's just start babbling or sobbing until she started to flag from the effort and would have to stop to  conserve her strength.

She probably thought it was going to be the longest and worst hour and a half in her life. Not true, but that would  come later. Every five minutes or so I'd lift up her nipple chain and waggle it around, and every fifteen I'd take  the clamps off and put them on again at a different angle. Pretty soon she started just crying every time I even  touched the chain, her little buds were so horribly sore.

That wasn't the worst thing, though. About an hour into this she was visibly shaking with the effort of holding  herself up. I got another pair of clamps out from my briefcase, intending to stick them on her cuntflaps. But, I  noticed that her slit was starting to get really wet! No wonder, I thought, even the horror and the pain of the  situation couldn't outweigh the fact that she WAS getting fucked, and while the stimulation was cruel it was there.  Plus, all that shuddering around had to be stimulating her little clit too.

I gave her a surprised smile as I plunged my hand down there and began manually stimulating her button.

"Wow, Lisa! Even I wouldn't have thought you'd be wet after being tortured and fucking your own son? Jesus Christ,  you're sopping!"

Well, not really, but the words had the desired effect. This utterly miserable look crossed her face as she tried to  fight the rising pleasure. It did take awhile, almost a full 20 minutes, but in the end she succumbed to a rolling,  screaming, trembling orgasm. Completely spent, she let herself dump back against the bed, panting. I let her lie there  for a few seconds, keeping one eye on Joel to make sure he didn't go blue. She realized quickly enough what she was  doing and sprung back up with energy I didn't think she had. An utterly priceless look crossed her face. This look of  absolute shame and embarrassment and real disgust with herself. Almost immediately though, her strength began to flag  and she had to steel herself again, trying to stay upright.

I just glared at her, trying to make myself look contemptuous. "You really are something. You really are such a  selfish fucking whore. You just HAD to have that little orgasm, huh? How will you feel when that strength you spent  on getting yourself off ends up costing your son his life? You care more about getting your little pussy fucked than  your son's life?"

She really looked pained and started to cry, big, wracking, heaving sobs.

"I bet you would have done this anyway if I hadn't come. Jesus Christ you are SICK and WORTHLESS. You should have  died during childbirth, your little whelps would be better off with a corpse to suckle on. I have half a mind just to  get my gun and shoot you right here, right now. You don't deserve to live."

That did it. She completely broke and began to sob, and sob, and sob, and sob. I let her just cry all her pride and  self-esteem and willpower down her face, tits, pussy, and pool up around the balls of her unconscious, retarded son.

Speaking of which, I noticed her son's cock starting to soften. I took my knife and cut her bonds, and shoved her over  onto her side. I shoved my erect member into her face and began to fuck it. I was ready to go an hour and a half  ago, and didn't bother making a show of lasting more than ten seconds in her mouth. She sat there, dull-eyed, letting  me rape her mouth without complaint, and halfheartedly swallowed without otherwise moving or protesting.

I let her lie there a couple seconds, then shoved her off the bed onto the floor.

"Get up."

She seemed to still be in a state of shock so I administered another couple kicks to her ribs. Her strength was all  but spent, but she still managed to struggle to her knees.

"You're disgusting and sweaty and covered in come." I made another exasperated sigh. "Time to hose you down like the  sow you are, I guess."

I really had planned to take this much slower, but this was so much better. It would have been nice to break her in  slowly, but I had to admit there were probably benefits to hurting her so much, so quickly. Over time she'd start to  dull to the emotional pain as she began to believe she truly was all the things I called her, but having it all come  so quickly and having the proof right there in front of her was really going to have an interesting effect, I  wagered.

I grabbed her nipple chain lightly, and even that small movement brought a shrill cry of pain.

"Come on, dumbass. To the shower."

I pulled on it and she sort of half-stumbled along, hands still cuffed behind her back, knees scraping against the  carpet.

--

I got her into the bathroom and made a show of turning the shower into ice cold.

"Get in," I ordered.

She found her words for the first time.

"Please... please.. It's cold.. I hate cold sh.."

I cut her off.

"You just got done FUCKING your retarded son. You came all over his cock. Your vile juices are caked in his pubic  hair. You almost strangled him to death because you were too busy getting off raping his dick. You don't deserve warm  water, skank."

She began to cry again but nodded her head and stepped meekly into the shower. I let her have the cold water spray  full on in her face, then her breasts and back and finally up her pussy and asshole. She began to shiver and shake  and slipped and fell down. Just then she burped up a bit of come, but without any prompting scrambled to lick it up,  correctly assuming she'd get beaten for that.

I soaped up a sponge and began to clean her body off, chiding her all the while about how useless she was and how I  had to do this for her since she'd only diddle herself if I let her. She jumped every time I washed her breasts,  seeing as how that chain was still on there.

Finally, I was done. I grabbed her handcuffs and lifted her up by them, causing another squeal of pain. I sat her  down, naked, on the toilet.

"Look up at me."

She looked through dead, pleading eyes.

I picked up the chain again, bringing a gasp of pain. But wisely, she didn't break eye contact.

"I'm going to take these off. It's been almost an hour since I moved them around so this is going to hurt, a LOT."

She sobbed and half-nodded.

I pulled them off and she wailed and wailed and though she tried, she broke eye contact not once but twice. I would  have put them back on anyway, but this way was more fun.

"Since you broke eye contact with your master, these are going right back on. You will learn that displeasing me  results in more pain for you. I imagine that's going to be quite a lot of pain since you seem utterly incapable of  doing anything right.

She started to sob and half-plead but made no move to resist as I put them back on, switching the angle again. She  did howl as I pulled the chain up again, but managed to mostly maintain eye contact. I chose to ignore the fact she  scrunched up her eyes as she howled.

"If you think that hurts now, bitch, just wait until tomorrow when they're all bruised. It'll hurt more than twice as  much!"

Her reaction to this was almost in detectable as she was utterly fatigued and already sobbing, but it was there. An  extra-long sob betrayed her dread.

"Now pay attention. You don't get to towel off. You don't get to dry or comb your hair. I want you to put on the  outfit you had before - halter top, high-heel sandals, and this time, a pair of panties. Then, go into your son's  room, and stuff his dirty underwear down the back of your panties. I knew her hair would drip onto them and make them  soaking wet and would serve to make her feel even more horrible and humiliated, like she had a full diaper or  something."

"You might as well clean off your son's pubic hair. You got your cum all over him when you raped him. You aren't  allowed to use warm water, EVER, but you can use your mouth if you think he deserves better than you."

I knew she would. I could tell I was getting to her already. She was starting to actually believe me through some  combination of the residual effect of the drugs and the absolute overwhelmingness of it all.

"I hope your tiny brain can find some way to get all that done in ten minutes with your handcuffs still on. IF you  don't, you can just stay like that until you get another chance tomorrow night, for all I care."

This didn't please her judging by her stricken expression.

I pushed her face down and left. Over my shoulder, I called back to her:

"If by some miracle you manage to get all that done, I'll be downstairs watching more television. Come stand where  you did before, this time with your legs closed. If you're not down there in ten minutes having done everything I  commanded you can just sleep on the floor of the bathroom until I come get you tomorrow morning.

I left her there, crying and sobbing as she began to fumble at her clothes.

--

I turned on the football game and didn't even bother watching, just replaying the wonderful wonderful afternoon in my  head. I almost didn't even notice as she minced down the stairs, sopping wet, shivering and looking utterly  ridiculous with the ball of underpants in the back of her panties. She stood in the correct place, ankles locked  together, and bowed her head in humiliation or submission or possibly both.

A moment just doesn't get any better than that. Or maybe it does. You'll have to wait to find out.