Bringing her home to mother

"Pull your pants down, Honey. Show her your little cage. Good boy."

"My goodness."

"Yes. He wanted me to be here when you see it because if you choose to wear his ring, there's a key that goes with it. And that said, he will always be my little boy. I will have him over for our little games. Won't we, Oliver?"

"Yes, Ma'am ."

"He is a very well-behaved boy. No real problems. Of course, when his cage is off he's reaching for his little penis all the time. A good smack will usually take care of that." She turned to him. "Take your clothes off, Honey."

The young lady's fingers were absently rubbing her thigh and a blush was rising in her cheeks. The older woman could tell this was not embarrassed discomfort but some inner agitation. Her eyes twinkled in recognition.

"Smack?" the younger one asked.

"On his bum. Or his bare bum. Or his penis. Or for something special, his balls. I have to admit, I like to smack his balls just for fun. Oliver, come here. Now stand up straight. I'm going to smack your balls."

She drew him in with an arm around his back and a hand around his sac.

"Notice how the waist belt holds the cage up and the little nub points straight out. His testicles hang nicely underneath. Now stand proud. Oliver. Nice and tall. And present yourself. See how well behaved he is. I allow him to close his eyes to help him keep from flinching. Ready, Honey?"

"Yes, Ma'am." His voice quivered.

"Now, now. let's have fun."

"Yes, Ma'am," changing his tone to an engaging lilt.

"You love your mommy to slap your balls don't you, Honey? What do you say?"

"Get them, Mom. Slap 'em." He thrust his hips and stood at attention before his seated mother. She let go and then brought her hand up quickly. It made hardly a sound but a grunt escaped his lips and he bent over double, while she rubbed his back and cupped his throbbing testicles.

"The pain shoots into his groin. That's what makes him bend over."

When he could, he let out an exhalation. "Ow, Mom. that was a good one."

"Do you little balls hurt, Honey?"

"It went deep." There was love in his eyes and she thought she saw in them a gratitude to be a part of his mommy's game.

"It's always with love," she said to the young woman. "If you have a really angry hate on for men, he won't do. He's a sensitive boy... young man, really. And I love him so. I take out my annoyances and frustrations on him. But it's not about him. Even when he misbehaves it's about what he did, not who he is. If you're going to accept this ring, and his key, can you treat him with love, smack him with love? Be cruel with love. Humiliate him with love. Keep him down and control his sex… all with love? He is not any of those bad words you hear wives call their cuckolds."

"How are you cruel with love?"

"Love is sharing joy with your partner."

"Yes."

"Well, it felt Joyous to smack him on the balls. And I shared that joy with him." She looked at her boy. "You live for my joy. Don't you sweetie?"

"Yes." He stood so exposed. It was as if he were in another place. The girl he brought home to meet his mother had become a faceless audience, and he was a show horse… a pet dog going through his tricks. Pride through the humiliation. Pride of the humiliation.

"The bonding of cruelty and love requires a deep exploration. I learned that from my husband." The woman looked into his eyes and gathered in him the memories of years ago when he was her husband and master.

"And humiliation?"

"I dismantle his manhood, not his soul. I don't demean him for being less than. I just do it to keep him where I want him. And it's so cute. Isn't it, Oliver?"

"Yes, I know… I know that … that I'm...

The young woman interrupted, "… a very good boy, aren't you?" she said, approvingly.

His face relaxed to see she wasn't going to ridicule him. It was as open and exposed as his body, standing naked before her. Only his cage as the badge of his identity, and the little strap that held it up so it pointed straight out.

"Yes," he said.

This may be fun, she thought, and noticed the stirring between her thighs.

"You could be my very good boy, couldn't you?"

"He's an excellent jerk off." His mother volunteered before he could reply. . "Aren't you Honey? You don't beg, do you?" She returned her attention to the young woman. "He squirms after a few days, but if I leave him for a while, he settles down. I like it to be stiff when we play, even though he never gets to use it. When I'm done, my little boy stands at the mirror and rubs his little thing…" She looked up to his face. "… til the squirts come out. He is quick and tidy. Into a tissue or the toilet. No fuss."

The young woman too looked at him, her eyes curious. She'd not had a hint about him. Out loud, she said to him, "You've always been polite."

"Oh, he didn't come that way," the older woman interjected. "Needed taming. I started him off on my leg, letting him rub and suck my nipple. With kisses and snuggles I taught him to hurry along. I whispered stories about the girls and boys on the block. Images to tickle his thoughts while he was jerking and squirming, first on my leg, and later against my knee." She kept his eyes on hers and smiled.

"Then all by himself like a big boy while he lay on the bed. That was fun, wasn't it Honey? But soon he was standing for me… at attention, behaving himself properly, doing his duty and showing Mommy his love."

She turned her attention to the young woman. "I may watch him or send him away, it doesn't matter. Have you cuckolded him yet?"

"No. I never… I want to wait until we're married." She was swimming in strangely familiar emotions. He had, in fact, been a polite young man and they had agreed to wait for marriage. But now it felt like the whole world was opening to her. Opportunities, freedoms. It was as if his mother had opened the door to her own cage and was inviting her to fly, to soar like an eagle.

"You are waiting for marriage? Oh my God, that is so exciting. Do you see what you can do? That most exquisite ceremony happens so rarely. You can cuckold him on his wedding night. But still more precious than that, you can make him stand and wait, crown in hand, while you give your virginity away to his best man on your wedding night. The husband you are now to share your life with, wearing the sign you have branded into him in the deepest, most primitive way. What a bond!"

The young woman stared at her with doe eyes. She wondered if this woman was from one of those tribes where the first night is given to the Lord.

"And I know just the guy to be Oliver's best man."

?

"Carl. I've let Olly listen from the next room. Haven't you, dear? My screams, my joy. He once even barged in to see if I was alright, didn't you sweetie? I don't know if he was really concerned or if he just wanted to see. To see what he doesn't get. And won't get if I have anything to say. I guess that will be up to his wife." She took the young woman's hand.

"But what does matter is your wedding night. Imagine losing your virginity and cuckolding your brand new hubby for his very first time. Two sacraments only dreamed about. And if you wear his ring on your finger the dream will come true.

"And the person to be your best Man is Carl, isn't he, Honey? Your mommy's lover. Big and strong with a big, fat cock. And he is so good with it. Isn't he Olly? Tell her. Carl would love to fuck your brand new wife for you. Wouldn't he, Olly?"

 

Thank you, Gigaman. The mother of my fantasy is not my real mother. She was filled with fear and inhibition, and taught that to me. My wife likes to play mother, and I like to play her little boy. Fantasies have a lot to teach. Coming true isn't usually the goal.