Before knocking on Brandon’s front door, Steve picked up a nondescript plastic package that a delivery man had tossed carelessly to the doorstep. Dawn Davis, Brandon’s mom, was the recipient.
Steve noticed a slight tear in it. Not thinking as he waited for the door to open, he fingered the rip. His finger touched latex and a leathery fringe. He assumed Brandon’s mom might be into jean jackets from the 1980s. There was also a rod inside. It felt ribbed with a rounded end. He pulled out his finger when the door opened.
“Dude, you’re here! I’ve been waiting and waiting,” Brandon said.
Steve stepped in.
“Just toss that package on the couch. Probably for Mom.”
“You ready to go? My car’s running. I’m wasting a lot of gas waiting for your ass,” Steve said.
Brandon grabbed his jacket.
Steve stepped outside the front door. “Come on! Hurry up so we can get to the gym before the game. We do better when we’re warmed up.”
“I do better, yeah, but you always suck.”
“Hey, dipshit, watch me tonight. I’m ready to—”
Steve suddenly was distracted by the prickly bush under the front window. Seeing it, all the memories of Brandon’s mom muddled his concentration. He had suffered the prickling some time ago to see Brandon’s mom naked and making out with one of her dates. She had become the main character in his sex dreams. He reminisced about her hanging tits, that large ass, and being on her knees begging for his cock. In his dreams, he would explode when she would simply say, “I need it.”
“Ready to what?” Brandon taunted.
Steve regained control of his mind.
“—to throw down, bitch. I’m on tonight.”
Moments later, the boys sped away from Brandon’s house.
###
Not long afterward, the garage door raised slowly and a shiny red coupe pulled inside.
In the house, Dawn set down her purse and tote bag on the kitchen table. She noticed the package in the middle of the couch. She rushed over to it.
“I can’t believe it arrived already.” She shoved her fingers into the hole to rip open the package but paused. She first called, “Brandon! Brandon, are you here?”
She heard no answer, so she tore open the package.
She flapped out the latex suit and dangled it in front of her.
“A bodysuit. Megan, really?” she said aloud. “No suit is going to fit me. I’ll need a gym membership and a personal trainer.”
She set aside the latex suit. In the package was a leather whip with a hard handle.
“And this? What is going on in your head?” She let out a controlled laugh.
Lastly, she found a gold necklace. A chic thing, relatively simple. Not high-end like her other jewelry. A clasp connected the necklace and two lengthy pieces dangled down at least a foot. Each one had a clip on the end.
“A necklace with nipple clamps? This is insane, you are insane.” She covered her mouth as she laughed even louder. Soon she flopped to the couch, cracking up uncontrollably.
She grabbed her phone and texted her friend.
Arrived. You are nuts.
A reply came immediately.
Wear tomorrow. Meet for lunch 1. I have a meeting until 12:30. Pinch you later
Dawn brought the crazy items to her room. She clipped the necklace around her neck. The small hoop set at the peak of her cleavage. The two long strands hanged down to her deep navel. She took the first end. A quick breath and she clamped her brown nipple. It was a sharper pain than she expected. She hissed and unclamped it. She lifted her breast to kiss her nipple to ask for forgiveness for the momentary brutality. She then rubbed her nipple in preparation for more cruelty.
She squeezed the clamp between her forefinger and thumb, revving up her mental capacity to handle the pain. She eased closed the clasp around one of her most sensitive protrusions. A hiss and a leap helped calm the bite. With another deep breath, a hiss and a leap, she closed the clasp on her other brown nipple.
She danced and bounced through her bedroom as if the movement might dull the pain. Her body slowly adjusted to the painful sensations at the tips of her tits. Bit by bit, the pain transitioned from a sharp pierce to a beating throb to a constant ache.
When the pain had leveled as much as it would, she then inspected the whip that doubled as a dildo. She was studying it and rubbing it when she heard Brandon.
“Mom, we’re back,” Brandon shouted. “Have you made supper or do me and Steve have to make it ourselves?”
She had to stop abruptly.
“Oh, god!” She scrambled to hide the toys in the nightstand beside her bed. She covered them, as best as she could, with her sleep mask. However, she left her nipples clipped, since it looked like she was wearing a simple necklace.
“Hi, boys,” she said strolling into the living room. “I was planning to make supper. Just need to get things out of the refrigerator and heat up the oven.”
She passed by Steve, who was in the recliner, and Brandon, who was in the center of the couch.
“Ms. Davis,” Steve said, “did you get the package that I put on the couch?”
She paused and her back stiffened. Some words fumbled from her mouth in her sudden uneasiness.
“Thank you for bringing it in,” she stammered.
Did he know what was in the package?
“I found it with the tear. Probably by the delivery guy, not me.”
Was he conveying something? Fear grabbed her.
“Nothing was damaged inside, so no need to worry about it,” she said as coolly as possible. She rushed into the kitchen to put distance between her and the boys.
“Mom, you still ordering junk from Amazon? You said you were going to lay off for a while.”
She shook her head.
“Brandon, I can spend money on whatever I want. But—for your information—this was a gift from a friend. I didn’t just buy it.”
Brandon rolled his eyes. “Sure, whatever.” He looked to Steve. “She can’t lay off Amazon, but I know she’ll be old when she buys from QVC.”
“Does she?”
“No.”
Brandon then called to his mom who had walked into the kitchen. “Hey, what’d you buy this time? I may need to put some controls on your spending habits.”
The oven door squeaked as she opened it. “Leave it be. It was a gift.”
“What are you making to eat, Ms. Davis? I might want to stay and eat your food instead of my mom’s meatloaf.”
“I was thinking of the same thing,” she said.
Hearing that, Steve stood.
“I’m going to head home. Shower and eat. Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. I won’t be around Friday. Got a date with Whitney. A movie. One of those romantic flicks.” He gagged himself with his finger.
“Do it all for the nookie,” Brandon teased.
“Listening to those terrible 90s nu-metal bands?”
Brandon only shrugged.
“Stop listening to it.”
Steve then left for home.
Brandon went into the kitchen. “How long will it be before the food is done?”
“Forty-five minutes. I did the prep work yesterday, so I’m ready to slide it in. I’m going to change. Can you put it in when the oven’s heated?”
“I guess,” he mumbled.
Before she left, she asked about Whitney.
“Since Steve’s going out, are you planning to go somewhere Friday?”
“Not with him, no.”
“You doing something? A girl or someone?”
“Do you need me to leave for one of your …” Brandon didn’t ask the whole question.
“I’m not sure. I like to alert you, because of how you feel about me and my dates.” She went to her bedroom before Brandon answered.
She took off her blouse and bra and then unclamped the clasps. Her nipples had numbed to the pain. They were flattened with harsh marks of the tiny metallic teeth. She massaged each nipple as another apology for her bodily brutality. She took off the necklace and placed it with her other jewelry.
She enjoyed what Megan had sent. She knew, later on, she’d have to try out her other new toy. The whip would need to be for another time though. She wondered who she would allow to whip her. The thought was disconcerting. Sir might. A date getting to whip her would lead to a crazy relationship. One she didn’t want. Then Steve came to mind—oddly enough. She shook her head to reject the notion.
Lastly was the latex outfit. She would only attempt to shove herself into the latex when Brandon wasn’t home. Never while he was here. She knew it was tough to squeeze out the meat from the casing of a bratwurst, so getting herself into this latex casing would be even worse for her.
From the kitchen, she heard Brandon call to her about the meatloaf. The two ate dinner and relaxed for the evening.
It was half past 1 the next day. Dawn sat at a tall table, sipping on a light cocktail of soda water, Vermouth and Campari. Megan arrived late—as usual. She begged Dawn’s pardon for being late, before she even sat at the table.
The waiter came up to them before Megan had settled into her seat. She ordered her staple. A white wine, Pinot Grigio, chilled. He returned in a moment.
“The meeting was terrible,” Megan said. “My clients could not make a decision on how to approach this bridge project. Funding, design, timetable—the meeting went to hell in no time. I just wish people would make decisions. Instead they hem-haw around.”
Megan straightened herself. “Oh yes! The gifts. Are you, uh, wearing anything?” She bounced her waxed, brown eyebrows.
“Yes.” Dawn whispered her answer, as if everyone would know what she had admitted to if she spoke too loud.
Megan whispered, “Clamps?”
Dawn nodded. Her cheeks reddened and a warmth climbed up the back of her neck.
Megan giggled. Dawn laughed too but felt a clamp twist her nipple when it caught on the fabric of her bra. It paused her laugh. Instead she coughed. Megan shook her head, knowing what had happened.
“Pretty painful, huh. I think John Mellencamp said it best: ‘Hurts so good.’”
They giggled and sipped their drinks.
“Do you wear these things too?” Dawn asked.
“Often, yes. I found they keep me grounded.”
“Grounded, what do you mean?”
Megan shrugged in admission to such a unique fact. “Pain helps me to remain in the moment and can slow me down.”
“Not wearing any today, I guess.”
“My meeting may not have gone as bad if I had worn them.” Megan picked up her wine glass but set it down before taking a drink. “What about the other gifts?”
Dawn thought of the package she received. “You’re wanting to know a lot about me.”
“The gifts, I want to make sure you like them. If you don’t, then I won’t buy them again. And!” She wagged her finger. “With you, I can ask anything. We’re open with each other.”
“True.” Dawn took a longer drink before she answered Megan’s question. She exhaled the answer. “I’ve had ‘fun’ with the one.”
Megan obviously loved the response, patting her palms, like she was playing patty-cake as a young girl. “I am so glad. It so reminded me of you. What about the outfit and the other thing—I won’t say what it is to avoid embarrassing you.”
“Thank you for not saying it. I’m not in the mood for complete embarrassment. As for the answer, I don’t have anyone who can use it on me—or me, on them.”
Megan rested her elbows on the table and tangled her fingers.
“How about that date you had a few weeks ago? He is not worthy of it?”
Dawn leaned back, feeling the pressure of an interrogation.
“He was moving a bit fast and we went too far. Way too far.” She shook her head in disappointment. “I let him. It was my fault. From now on, I need to keep myself in check so it doesn’t happen again like that.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Megan set down her wine, clinking its base on the table. She leaned forward, staring at her friend. “How far did you go? You make it seem like you two were at the edge.”
Dawn darted her eyes toward the bar.
“That far, huh.” Megan grinned, having read Dawn’s reaction.
“Not that far! You think so low of me.” She swatted at her friend. “I have to admit, though, we got very, very close.”
Dawn exhaled. “I let it go farther than I had ever wanted. All the time I’ve known him, he seemed so levelheaded. And dinner was great. Conversation was smooth and easy. We got along. He made me laugh. That, I’ll admit, is rare.”
Megan nodded. “He played you well.”
“Yea, we got caught up too much. I ruined things. Now our boundaries are unknown.”
“But you’ll go out with him again, right?”
“I kind of plan too—maybe, well possibly. I’m not sure.” She bobbed her head side to side. “Who else is there? And back on the topic of you, who would you let use ‘it’ on you?” Dawn was rather blunt to redirect the conversation.
“There are a few guys, but none of them have ever worked out. Their vibe was missing.” She sipped her wine. “You and I are in bad positions. Only certain guys can have everything we need—most of the things we need—and be able to stand beside a successful CEO. It’s got to do with men’s self-assurance.”
Megan then pushed back the conversation to Dawn. “Who was this guy you were out with?”
Dawn tried to divert again, but Megan pressed until Dawn began to speak.
“He’s an engineer—not in my company—who I met at a conference. We had a good time at the bar. We were out several nights at the conference. He asked me to go out when we got back.”
“At the conference, did you take him to your room, or you go to his room?”
“No way. Not nights, as in the hotel room!” Dawn waved her hands as if blocking oncoming traffic.
“So he’s an engineer. You using him to get intel from competitors? You better not date any of my employees—especially my engineers.”
The two laughed.
“Give me one employee, and I’ll get all your proprietary information,” Dawn teased. “I can make men talk.” She jutted out her heavy breasts.
“All women can make men talk.”
“A guy talking is one thing. Giving up secrets is a whole other thing.”
They agreed and clinked their glasses.
Megan warned, “I have tight-lipped employees. That whip won’t help.”
“Don’t use that W-word,” Dawn scolded, while scanning the room in case someone nearby may have heard it.
“No one’s listening.” Megan waved off Dawn’s worry. “Calm down about it. But since you haven’t found many guys to go out with, meet the engineer again. You can’t let potential love pass by because you think you may have let him go too far. Just set up guidelines. If he pushes you too much, then you can end the relationship. I mean, Dawn, what if he respects your boundaries? It’s worth taking a chance on love. I just have one suggestion: Wear the clamps on the date. It may keep you centered—grounded, you know—instead of going sex-crazy.”
Dawn growled at Megan for using the S-word so outright. Still, she agreed with Megan.
Later, the garage door raised, and the shiny red coupe pulled inside. In the house, Dawn set down her purse and tote bag on the kitchen table. She quickly unbuttoned her flimsy, blue blouse so she could get the clamps off her nipples, which were numb now. Buttons undone, she tossed her shirt onto the recliner as she strode across the living room to her bedroom. She slipped off one strap of her lace bra and stopped dead in the middle of the room.
Her son’s friend was on the couch. Silent. His jaw had dropped nearly to the floor. He was staring.
“Oh, god! Steve!” Dawn flung her arms around her chest to hide her trapped breasts.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” the pair said in unison.
“I didn’t know you were here,” Dawn said.
She noticed Steve’s face had flushed red. He didn’t breathe or close his mouth. His eyes were bulged, and he could not take his eyes off of her chest.
He coughed and cleared his throat.
“Ms. Davis, I am so …” Steve stuttered. “I am waiting—Brandon—Ran … for some … drinks. Should I leave?”
“It’s okay, Steve,” she said as she inched sideways across the room by television to the hallway. “We’ll just pretend this never—”
She noticed the growth in the crotch of Steve’s basketball shorts. He moved his hands, but his mind wasn’t cognizant enough to shield himself subtly.
The two stood before each other forever—brief though it was. Their minds were trapped in both the unexpected and the sexual deviance. Steve’s fantasies were happening, and Dawn realized her aged attractiveness was still capturing men of all ages.
Dawn broke their silence.
“We won’t tell Brandon, okay? You didn’t see me like this,” Dawn said. She let down one arm to pull up the bra strap.
“But I did.” The words spilled from Steve’s mouth. “I saw you.”
“Do not talk about it.”
“I … can’t forget.”
“Okay, don’t forget, but keep quiet. This would be bad for us and for Brandon—very bad for him,” Dawn said.
“You’re so hot. Amazing body,” Steve stuttered in his stupor.
“Thank you.”
“Can I?”
“Can you what?”
“See.”
“See me?”
“Yes.”
She darted her eyes away at the awkwardness of the request. Moments ago, when she had closed the garage door, such an instance as this would have been only for absurd erotica stories. Now though, this was the situation in which Dawn was caught. A teenager—Steve of all of them—was engrossed in her body.
Seeing him still spellbound, she said, “And we won’t talk about it then, right? Never, ever again.”
Steve only nodded.
She moved her arms, although her bra was on. Her arms dangled at her sides, shoulders slumped, as she felt his eyes move over her large, motherly form. He cupped his erection, trying to block its obvious bulge. When she saw him do it, her throat tightened, strangling her sexually. Her pussy moistened and her lips bloated and tingled. Worse, her nipples tightened, straining against the clamps. She grabbed her tits, squeezing them. In her moment of pain, she ignored the young man before her. She reached inside her bra and unclipped the first pincher. She reached into the other cup to release the other. Her breasts felt at ease finally. Then her mind came back to Steve.
“This was all an accident, Steve. I didn’t mean to. This was a mistake.” She rushed to her bedroom, leaving him standing there.
She closed and locked her bedroom door and then collapsed, flushed and scared, into the armchair next to her bed.
She wiped her forehead. “Did that really happen?”
But, as much as embarrassment clung to her, excitement settled in too. “I made him get hard. At attention right away. He has the girlfriend and all kinds of young girls around him. But he thinks I look hot.”
She removed her bra. She rubbed her scrunched nipples. Soon she tugged them and rolled them between her fingers. The physical and mental thrill consumed her whole body. Flushing heat, thudding temples, curling toes, tightening back, spreading thighs. Her fingers slipped beneath the thin fabric of her panties, through her trimmed bush and into her moist pussy.
Her head fell onto the back of the chair. She loved the feeling of all this. The number of men she had turned on kept increasing to her surprise. Sir, the engineer, now her son’s friend. She imagined getting whipped by each of them in order.
Her breathing became harsher, her face tensed, a whoosh of sparkles shot from her center to the tips of her toes and fingers. The net of the orgasm encircled her and let her fall into its canopy.
However, the canopy vanished when she suddenly heard Brandon in the living room.
“Mom’s shirt! What’s it doing out here? She always gets on me for leaving my stuff out. I’ll have to get on her about this.”
Further stealing her peace, she heard Steve.
“It was here when I got here,” he said.
She calmed hearing Steve’s reply. Of all he could say, Steve kept to himself what actually happened. Maybe she would be safe, their accidental encounter forgotten.
Still, there was a hiccup in the timeline. When Brandon left, her shirt wasn’t on the chair. Dawn hoped Brandon wouldn’t notice. Basketball or video games may have distracted his mind.
Dawn remained in her room, waiting until the boys—specifically Steve—were gone.
Eventually, she strode to the living room in just her bra and French-cut panties. Her mind was titillating in play.
“I didn’t know you were here!” she acted as if Steve was again on the couch.
She imagined Steve stood up. He wasn’t surprised by her this time. Instead, he had a wolf-like sneer.
Dawn’s hand slid from the gulf of her cleavage to the band of her panties.
“Did you really like me? I made you hard?” Dawn asked.
“Yes, and not just me.”
“Oh my! Who else?”
He waved and two other men appeared. It was Sir and her date—the engineer. They startled her.
“When did both of you get here?”
Steve answered for them. “I told them about you. How you really needed a hard fuck. And several men could satisfy you.”
“You know me more than you let on.”
“I have watched you for years, Dawn. I am only Brandon’s friend so I can see you. Now is the time that the three of us get a piece of you. On your knees.”
She knelt and grabbed the engineer’s hard dick and Steve’s cock. She pushed the heads together in her mouth. She sucked and slurped them as best as she could with her mouth stretched painstakingly wide. Sir came behind her in his usual smooth, suave manner. He pulled aside her panties, letting them slap against her round ass. He ran his fingers down her ass and shoved them into her pussy, rocking in and out. Her pussy was already drenched, and her body’s palpitations were becoming more violent.
She loved these three men’s attention. She needed this sex. She wanted to be dominated, controlled, and taken to her limits without a choice. She wanted to be whipped.
Before she got too comfortable, the men changed positions. Steve laid on the couch. She sat facing him, her breasts paddling his face, and she sheathed her open pussy over his cock. Then Sir pushed his dick against her anus. She let it ease until he had entered. Two dicks had stretched her mouth moments ago. Now two dicks stretched her below. She had not been double-teamed before in her life. The pain was harsh but only in waves as the two worked in tandem.
Not to leave out anyone, she stroked the engineer. He stared down at her. She felt like he wanted to broach the subject of her favorite paintings. “You have such good taste in artwork. I want to see more of your art,” he said.
Then Sir demanded of her harshly to focus on his dick. “You hear me, bitch!”
“Yes, Sir,” she quickly answered.
Steve grabbed her breasts to get her attention. He tugged her nipples, asking her if her nipples were still sore after a day of clamps.
“I wore them all day, and I’m not used to the pain yet, but—”
Her sentence was cut short as her date put two fingers in her mouth and dragged her face toward him. He had one leg pushed into the couch cushion and his cock was waiting for her to shut up and open up. And she did.
It was the third dick she sucked in a few moments.
The three men banged her harshly, causing her to grunt and howl. She winced her eyes shut from the heated pain of stretching her ass and pussy and the gagging reflex from her date’s dick. Moments later, the joyride of pleasure took over. She rode up hills of sexual pleasure and slid into valleys, then back high again. Soon, her body shook and exploded inward toward her center, like an inverted firework. She remained in the luxury of debauchery for a long time.
When she opened her eyes and exhaled, the living room was empty. The room was quiet. No one was around. The men were gone. Had never been there.
She was caught on the carpeted floor between the couch and the coffee table. Her knees were sore, and her elbow had banged against the low table. She noticed, in her hand, the ribbed rod that was on the end of the whip was coated in her wetness. It had done its work.
She had forgotten how she loved that sort of attention, to be the centerpiece, to be taken ruthlessly and without caution or concern.
Once able to rise, she staggered back to her bedroom. Then she plopped onto her bed and slept through the night. It was a better sleep than in several weeks. The next morning, still under the blankets, she texted Megan.
Loved the toy. Best ever. Owe you BIG.
Megan texted back.
Think of what whip will do!
The idea intrigued Dawn. Hmm.
