Duncan Fox: Spankin mommy

"Here, clean yourself up," she ordered, throwing him the soggy towel.

Awkwardly, humbly, the man dabbed at his spotted trousers. He was embarrassed, and so was Carla. She was probably embarrassed for him, Charlie reflected, not for herself. Ross Caldwell tucked his prick back in his pants and zipped them up.

"Now get out of here," Carla ordered.

"But…"

"Get out of here," she repeated. "And don't ever call me again."

Cowed, the man left. Carla paced the room nervously for a few minutes, then disappeared. In a moment, Charlie and Ann heard water running.

"Taking a bath," Charlie decided. "We'd better get out of here."

"My bottom hurts," Ann complained.

"You'll gets over it," Charlie assured her. "Here's your coat. Thanks for calling. I enjoyed it."

"Don't expect me to do it again," Ann responded, buttoning up her coat.

Charlie went to his room, dressed quickly and slipped out of the house. He didn't want his mother to know he had been home.

He walked for a long, long time, trying to puzzle her out. She had rejected him, and Eric Jameson. She had experimented with a weakling, then rejected him, too. Clearly, she needed some direction.

"Mom! What the hell are you doing in my room?" Charlie demanded furiously.

Carla jumped guiltily. The brown envelope slipped from her fingers, hit the floor with a thud. "Charlie! Wh-what are you doing home?" she asked faintly.

"I live here, remember?" he snapped. "And this is my room. My room! What are you doing in my room?"

"I-I was just – uh – I was – ah – uh – straightening up a little bit," Carla stammered awkwardly.

"You were snooping."

"No!" Carla squeaked feebly. "No, I wasn't snooping, I wasn't!"

"You were snooping in my room, in my closet!" Charlie said angrily, stalking across to her. "You must've been in pretty deep to have found this," he growled, picking up the porno magazine and waving it accusingly in her face.

"What are you doing with – with filth like that!" Carla shot back, going on the attack.

"How do you know it's filth?" Charlie asked. "You haven't opened the envelope yet. How do you know what's in it? You must've snooped in here before! This isn't even the first time you've pried into my privacy, is it?" Charlie asked furiously. "Well, now, that's just too much, that is too fucking much! Jesus, Mom, I thought we trusted each other. Goddamn! Snooping in my room! I trusted you!"

Carla felt as if a knife were being twisted into her guts. Still holding the envelope, Charlie turned away from her, turned his back on her, and stared morosely out the window. She made a move towards him, then drew her hand back. She was desperately fighting back her tears. She wasn't even sure why she had done what she had done. No, that wasn't true. It was really ridiculously simple. Horny, she had sought out his porno magazine.

She hadn't been snooping. This time, all she had been seeking was relief from her sexual tensions. After the crazy, disgusting episode with Ross Caldwell a week ago, she had been celibate. But it had whetted her appetite. Now, because of stupid physical desires, she had shattered Charlie's trust in her. It had been hard to reject his incestuous interest in her, but she couldn't violate that taboo again. She couldn't have a son who was a – mother-fucker.

Now, though, she was in danger of having no son at all. Which was even more frightening. The thought that she might lose Charlie completely horrified her. He was all she had. She had to somehow regain his trust.

"Charlie?" she asked hesitantly.

"What?" he said sullenly, his back still towards her.

"Charlie, please, don't – don't do this to me," Carla begged.

"Do what?"

"Just, cut me off like this. I did wrong. I did a terrible thing, but don't just cut me off!"

No answer.

"Punish me, if you like, but do-don't just ignore me," she pleaded desperately. "Don't just ignore me, please. Please, Charlie?" Her voice trailed off forlornly.

Silence. She thought she had been struck deaf. Then she heard the humming of her overloaded brain, the soft rush of the blood in her arteries. The room sparkled around her as she held her breath, waited for her son's verdict.

The muscles in Charlie's neck and shoulders were as hard as stone. He glared blindly out the window. "Go to your room," he ordered harshly. "Go to your room and get undressed."

"Ye-yes, Charlie," she said softly, a catch in her voice.

"Wait for me there," he continued, still not turning around.

"Yes, Charlie," she agreed humbly. "Undressed?" she asked faintly.

"Completely."

"But…"

"Don't argue, just do it," he said, cutting her off bluntly. Without realizing it, he had used the same words his father used to use on him.

"Yes, Charlie," Carla agreed softly. She left his room. Fear was burrowing through her like a little animal, bringing out cold sweat. It wasn't just fear fl of the spanking she knew she was going to get. It was dread of the effect her nudity was going to have on her son. There was dread of what her own reaction to being nude in front of him was going to be. Already, just thinking about it, she had a hot, melting feeling deep in her guts. And then there was still the horniness that had triggered the whole sorry mess.

She shook as she slowly removed her robe. She concentrated on meticulously straightening it after hanging it carefully on its hook. But the motions only made her more aware of her nudity. The cool air touched her amused nipples and exposed pussy. Then, she waited. She wondered what was taking him so long. The longer she waited, the greater her agony of anticipation became. Her nerves were drawn as tight as a violin string.

After she left his room, Charlie stood staring out his window for a long time. His fury was like a white-hot fire in him. It was the last straw as far as he was concerned. It was the culmination of day after day after day of frustration and aggravation. He had twice heard her turn down a date with Eric Jameson. Three times she had slammed her bedroom door in his face when he had walked past. Whether she knew it or not, she had been tormenting him with her body.

Well, now she was going to learn just who the man of the house was. He had done wrong, and been punished. Now she had done wrong, and he was going to punish her, bring her to her senses once and for all.

He knew she was strong. He didn't want her escaping before the scene was played out. Going to his closet, he took the four neckties off the rack. The wide leather belt caught his eye, so he took that, too. Then, tense and determined, he stalked down the hall to her room.

He paused in the doorway. His mouth suddenly went dry at the sight of her. She didn't see him at first. She was looking at herself in the full-length mirror. He studied her tits – the tits he had suckled on as a baby. He surveyed her hips and the loins that had borne him. He got all hot inside and his resolve to punish, her wavered. Then, she turned, startled. The fear in her eyes was mingled with relief, and his resolve hardened. He started towards her.

Carla's first reaction on seeing him had been relief – relief that he was still clothed. Then she had caught sight of the belt in his hand, and been paralyzed with fear. The neckties only puzzled her.

"If you fight me, it'll go all the harder for you," he informed her bluntly.

"Please don't tie me up," Carla begged, suddenly realizing what the neckties were for. She would be absolutely defenseless. He would be able to do anything to her he wanted. She was terrified.

"Give me your wrist," he ordered.

"Please," Carla begged, cringing back away from him.

Impatiently, Charlie reached out and grabbed her arm. Quickly, he knotted one necktie around her wrist. She shivered as he did the other one as well.