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Madeline	By : Eddie_Davidson Category: Comics > Misc - General > Misc - General Views: 965 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with george pichard or anyone related to the production or publishing of his novels. This is simply a fanfiction based on the comic Madoline. I make no money from this.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Madeleine
Chapter Three
Over the next month, my Mother’s humiliations and tortures became almost routine to the rest of the family and our neighbors. My father and I routinely beat her and had our cocks licked. I frequently paraded my mother around like a circus animal for guests. I also made her sit up and beg and act as the family dog quite often. Fabienne requested that I attach a leash to her collar and let her lift her leg and piss and shit in the yard. I milked her like a cow and made her squawk like a chicken in the barnyard just to increase the novelty of the act for our frequent guests.
I also continued to go to school. Many of my classmates knew about my control of my mother. I found increased popularity, which I attribute to my growing confidence. Some girls my own age were interested in me, but most were put off by fears I might discipline them as I did my mother.
I was given free rein to squeeze Connasses’s tits, pulling her ass cheeks apart, and even shove objects up my mother’s ass. My mother was uninhibited about her body. If she was embarrassed or uncomfortable with my touches, she never let on. This was one of the reasons that Fabienne said we had to be extreme in our approach to disciplining her because a normal woman would be shamed by half of what Connasse was made to do.
My mother even begged me to find bigger objects or keep them in ice so that the effect would be more severe when I inserted them. I didn’t dare have sex with my mother, though. I did think about it, but Fabienne insisted that my mother be denied the sex with rare exceptions.
My mother occasionally sucked my cock all the way to the base and apologized for it. She said it was an old habit and begged my forgiveness. She begged me not to tell Fabienne and accepted whatever heinous punishment I wanted to give her instead.
On occasion, I had to tell Fabienne what my mother had done. My Grandmother frequently questioned me and pressured me, to tell the truth. Usually, my mother was strung up and left upside down for hours while receiving a beating for seducing me. My mother confessed to her crimes and begged for the beating to continue until her voice became hoarse.
On occasion, she was permitted to masturbate herself or fuck herself with a dilator on the stool in the living room in front of us. My sister Nannette frequently imitated my mother in the privacy of our bedroom. She didn’t do it for my benefit, but she didn’t care if I watched either.
My mother was kept in chains most of the time when she was home. She was frequently made to scrub the floors with a brush in her asshole or a sponge strapped to her mouth. We never felt sympathy for my mother’s condition. Fabienne frequently reminded us that my mother would face much harsher conditions in women’s prisons than she did at home with us.
My mother remained enthusiastic and embraced these humiliations. She frequently asked us to jab her with sewing needles, kick her, beat her, or dunk her head in a bucket of dirty water. She said that the discipline kept her from impure thoughts and thanked us profusely. Fabienne enjoyed it when my mother begged us for this wicked treatment. She felt it was a sign that my mother genuinely embraced the life of a disgusting whore and house pet because she profoundly wished to atone for her past behavior.
It became increasingly clear that no matter how harsh the conditions that were heaped upon my mother, she would ask for even harsher conditions. My mother’s diet consisted mostly of stale bread and water. She lost weight, and her ribs were visible through her chest, but her enormous tits and ass cheeks remained the same size. The effect made it seem like her tits and ass were even bigger than before she started the discipline.
If my mother pissed on the floor because she had been chained for too long, then she would lap that up just like she did our spilled cum. Fabienne frequently made my mother clean the floor with her tongue. “You are a dirty bitch with a fat ass! Get your meal from licking the bottoms of my shoes,” Fabienne frequently said.
Fabienne also began to wear my mother’s old clothes more frequently and often went out with Mr. Nicephore, the Landlord for Dinner. I was put in charge of mother when she was not home because my father was seen as somewhat incompetent and too sympathetic to my mother’s condition.
One such evening I was checking on my mother. We had a reinforced pole that was attached to a plate on the floor. My mother had to sit on the pole and impale her asshole on it as far as she could. Usually, her feet were still two inches off the ground. Her arms were cuffed behind her back, and she had needles holding her cunt lips apart like a butterfly with its wings pinned back under the glass. Her ankles were chained to the wall to force her legs apart.
Fabienne said that the pole up my mother’s ass prevented her from “wiggling obscenely,” but it didn’t really stop my mother from doing that at all.
“Robert, she is going to send me to prison!” I heard my mother whisper angrily. She didn’t realize I was standing just outside the small room. My Grandmother frequently made that threat but had never acted upon it. My mother was increasingly convinced the threat was going to be made real and soon.
“What can I do about that?” my father shrugged. He truly was henpecked by Fabienne. His mother would never listen to his opinion on the matter.
“Get the key and free me, you fool! We can leave this place together! Just you and me!” my mother whispered angrily. “I’ll remain your whore if that is what you want. I cannot go to the women’s prison. Maitresse Fabienne made me visit and observe the corrections the women receive. She even made me meet some of my friends who are incarcerated there. “Do you remember Suzane? She was convicted of indecent dancing. She received five years in the prison. The magistrate tattooed a number to her ass and stomach and pierced her nipples and nose with hoops. They shaved her beautiful hair and left her with a tiny shock of curls to remind her of her beauty. She would be thankful to have a life like mine on this pole. The day I visited, she was strapped to a wheel and slowly dunked into the water as the wheel turned. The pully to the wheel was powered by other women beaten with whips to walk in circles all day. They allowed her a brief respite to talk to me for five minutes. As compensation for a break from the wheel, the guards administered a water cure to Suzane.
The manner of Suzane’s torture was as follows: First they hoisted Suzane up by her hands with a cord on a large door. Her hands were bound to two iron posts as far as they could stretch. Her feet were hung some two feet from the ground. They were stretched asunder as far as they could reach. Then they bound a cloth about her neck and face so close, that little or no water could go by. That done, they poured the water softly upon her head until the cloth was full. The water was poured up to the mouth and nostrils, and somewhat higher; so that she could not draw breath. Suzane was made to suck in the water as she choked and gasped. Once her belly was distended with water, and it seemed it might come out her ears and nose or faint, they took her down and made her vomit up the water.
They trussed her up again and repeated this exercise before she could fully recover until her eyes were bulging, her cheeks and body were swollen, and the wretch looked like she had been driven mad.
“Those are the consequences of indecent and immoral behavior, Connasse. I cannot go against the will of the Magistrate. What would mother say?” my father sheepishly looked at the floor.
“She doesn’t have to know you, great oaf! Give me your cock! I want to suck it!” my mother demanded.
“Can I have sex with you?” he asked her nicely.
“Yes, but be quick. Do not cum inside me. If Guillaume sees, he will tell Fabienne,” she said. She and my father clearly did not know I was eavesdropping on their conversation. I was flattered that she was concerned about my reaction. My mother feared that I might tell my Grandmother what she had done. It did not surprise me that she still had wanton and sexual desires.
Fabienne frequently accused my mother of perverse desires, and Connasse always admitted she did. Usually, when my mother was orgasming in the living room and reached a climax on the dildo, she would scream out that the pleasure she received humping the dildo was intensified by weeks of being denied fulfillment of her sexual desires.
My father took down his pants and humped her softly. My mother looked bored while he used her cunt. He didn’t need to ask her permission to use her body anyway. She was bound and exposed – he could have just taken her if he wanted to do it.
“We can do this every night. Wouldn’t you like that, Robert?” Fabienne tempted my father like a horny vixen.
“Mother says you have to call me Maitre Robert,” my dad reminded her as he humped her.
“Get rid of your mother! Denounce her! There is enough evidence of her own wickedness. She has sex with Mr. Nicephore in our bed! She gives handjobs to you and everybody who visits. She has no right to discipline me like this. We could be rid of her, and you could have me all to yourself, Maitre Robert!” my mother assured him.
“No, I could never do that to Mother,” my father insisted as he rocked slowly in and out of my mother.
“Ach, you will never disobey her. Stop humping me like a sad little puppy. You are drying me out. Put your cock in my mouth, please,” My mother begged.
My father reluctantly pulled out of her, and she bent forward on the pole. It took her great effort to reach his cock. “Get the key from Mother tonight when she returns. She will be drunk from her evening with Mr. Nicephore. Once she is in our bed, having sex with him come release me. We’ll escape together!” my mother said.
“What about Nannette and Guillaume?” my father asked. I was thankful he at least was concerned for our welfare.
“They will slow us down. I know places we can hide out in the 9th Arrondissement,” My mother mentioned a more notorious part of Paris.
“The Boulevard de Clichy? It is unseemly and dangerous!” my father insisted that he had no interest in such that sordid part of the city.
“Yes, but there are enough whores there that no one will care if there is one more! It must be this way, Maitre Robert! Now beat me, please! Guillaume should be checking on me soon. I like the way you beat me much better! You are very thorough!” my mother stopped sucking his cock abruptly and let his dick pop out of her mouth.
She had told me that she preferred how I beat her! That hurt my feelings. My father had the rod in his hands when I walked in.
“I’ll take over!” I said. My father didn’t challenge me. He had cum recently. I noticed my mother wink at him as he left.
“Please beat me, Maitre Guillaume! I have been very naughty!” My mother sat up straight and thrust her tits at me. Her nipples were extremely hard. I loved to pull and stretch them. I pinched them and began to beat her ass with the rod.
“Oui! Forniquer! Oh! Oh!” my mother reached orgasm as she humped her asshole on the pole while I beat her. I beat her hard and about the neck, shoulders, and even face tonight. I was angry that she was going to leave me behind, and most of all that she told my father she preferred how he beat her. I was jealous!
I got so worked up and angry that I couldn’t contain my own excitement. I took my pants completely off and let my cock flop around while I removed the pins and beat my mother’s cunt with a leather strap. Then I adjusted the pins and pushed them through her tits while she cried out in pain. My cock dripped pre-cum as it brushed her leg.
“Faire des galipettes?” my mother frequently asked me that question when she wanted to suck my cock. It meant to take her for a walk, but it had a naughtier connotation. She was excited and breathing heavy as I ravaged her with the crop and slashed across her tits and ass with the rod.
I put my cock in her pussy. My mother’s eyes grew wide, but she did not protest. “Connaître Moi?” my mother asked me as I pushed my cockhead in her pussy. I was losing my virginity with my mother, and I knew it was extremely shameful, but I did so anyway.
“You have a lovely cock,” she said as she looked down at me with pride while I fucked her cunt flaps. I didn’t fuck like my father. I was lifting her up the pole and dropping her down. I was fucking her angrily and squeezing her tits. I said nothing but continued to fuck her.
“Choke me, Maitre!” she begged me. I reached up and began to strangle her.
“Yes, yes! Don’t crush my windpipe! Yes, like that! Cover my mouth and nose!!” my mother seemed to enjoy having her air supply cut off while I fucked her. It was difficult to orgasm in this awkward position, but finally, I came inside of her.
“Oh! Oh! Thank you! Thank you! I’ve not had cum in cunt in so long! It feels wonderful! Thank you, Guillaume, for this gift!” my mother was euphoric and seemed impressed with how long I lasted. She quickly realized that she might be in real trouble if I told Fabienne.
“You can do this to me anytime you like as long as we keep this our secret? I can teach you how to please a woman. I can teach you things your father should know but cannot learn,” she begged.
I was still angry with her and continued to whip her about the thighs and legs. I said nothing.
“If not, I will beg Fabienne to put me in a chastity belt and lock my pussy and asshole away from you! Would you prefer me that way?” she asked.
She planned to escape this evening. I wondered why she was making this deal with me. I didn’t say anything.
“Please, Maitre Guillaume, take me down from the pole and let me lap up your cum. If Fabienne comes home and sees my drippings on the floor, she will know someone fucked me. She may punish you,” my mother pretended to be concerned for my well-being. I remembered Fabienne telling me how manipulative she could be.
At the time, I didn’t want to believe it. Fabienne warned me that all women were manipulative, and that is the female condition of original sin. She told me it was Eve who tempted Adam out of the garden of Eden. I didn’t think much of the story at the time, but now I realized my mother had tempted my father to help her escape. Just as Connasse frequently tempted me to fuck her as I pleased. It made sense to me when I thought about the natural state of women to tempt men. She knew the pleasures that came from time between her legs were valuable to me. She knew I wanted to learn about her body and explore it. I felt my mother must be manipulating me somehow by encouraging me to ravage her. It didn't stop me from continuing to use her body, though.
I beat her about the soles of the feet.
“Oh, yes! Look at Polyphemus getting back up after his battle with my wet cunt. Put me on the ground, and I’ll show you how my asshole feels when Polyphemus invades! Please, Maitre Guillaume,” my mother begged me to take her ass.
I could not resist the temptation. Despite the confidence I had developed I was still a young lad with a lot to learn about women. My mother seemed so desperate to fuck me again and clean up her mess. She was covered in a fine sheen of her own sweat from the exhausting beating and all the sex we just had. She reminded me of a fine cart-horse after a long day pulling a carriage. I wanted to dominate her, and there was something so incredibly satisfying about her begging me.
I removed her from the pole and even untied her wrists so that she could get on all fours for me. She guided my cock into her asshole. She was ready for me when I stuck it in without any resistance. She leaned forward and licked my cum droppings from her pussy off the floor while I fucked her ass. It was tighter than I imagined it would be. I imagined my mother’s asshole must be what Nannette’s pussy felt like. She could grip my cock and hold it with her anus so that I could not remove it from her ass.
I felt incredibly powerful, watching her rock herself back and forth with her ass cheeks spread before me. It took me a long time to reach orgasm again. My mother didn’t release my cock when I finished either. She fucked my dick with her ass even while it was soft. Once I was spent, she squatted and let the cum dribble on the ground before lapping it up and begging me to put her back on the pole before Fabienne came home.
When my Grandmother came home, she brought Mr. Nicephore to the small room to check on my mother and was happy with her condition. She liked to tease our landlord by letting him gaze upon my mother and touch her before taking him to my parent’s bedroom.
She invited my father to stay and watch the two of them fornicating. My father politely declined, but Fabienne insisted he stay anyway.
“Thank you for not telling Maitresse Fabienne what you did with me, Maitre Guillaume,” my mother smiled at me when I checked on her again. Fabienne had placed her in a cage for the night in a vulgar pose with her asshole and pussy pressed against the metal cage.
I put my finger in her asshole.
“Ooh, perhaps I will teach you to put your tongue in there next!” My mother wiggled obscenely. “You will make my Devoirs Des Femmes a pleasure!” she promised me.
I did want to tell on her because I didn’t want her to leave. I wanted to learn what she could teach me. I felt betrayed because I knew she was planning to leave tonight. I desperately wanted to keep fucking her. Now that I had the courage to take my mother when I wanted, it was all going to be over, and that didn’t feel right.
I waited in hiding until my father snuck out of his bedroom and approached the small room.
“Do you have the key?” she asked him.
“Yes, but I cannot go with you,” my father said with regret.
“Fool,” my mother chided him, but she wasn’t going to beg him. “Did you bring any clothes for me?” she said.
“No, you only said to bring the key!” my father admitted.
I waited in hiding. I planned to wake Fabienne and expose my mother while she was escaping. The punishment she received from Fabienne for attempting to leave would no doubt be spectacular and well-deserved for breaking my heart and abandoning me.
“You pigeon livered oaf! Did you expect me to make my way through Paris naked with a wooden spoon up my ass? Go back and take one of my dresses and give me some money!” she demanded, “It is the least you can do!”
The least my father could do is leave her to her fate in the women’s correctional prison! I was livid, but I waited. I wanted my Grandmother to catch her in the act of leaving. If I sounded any alarm now, Connasse could say that my father released her, and she did not wish to go.
My father crept back into his bedroom. He was not very stealthy and made a lot of noise as he fumbled in the dark. It was a blessing that my Grandmother and Mr. Nicephore were drunk on wine.
My father provided her with the means to escape, and my mother quickly dressed.
“Goodbye, Connasse,” my father waited for a goodbye kiss or a last embrace.
“My name is Madeleine! If you ever call me that name again, I shall remove your balls with a rusty butcher’s knife!” my mother said as she raced down the stairs. I started for my parent’s bedroom to wake my grandmother.
My mother tripped on a toy that Nannette had left on the steps and rolled down the stairs tumbling end over end and exposing her bare ass. She had not had time to put on panties.
The ruckus woke my Grandmother, and she caught my mother red-handed. Fabienne also found my father and me out of our beds and assumed one of us had helped her. If I had protested, it would have only made my Grandmother suspect I was the guilty one, so I said nothing.
“You don’t appreciate my hospitality, Connasse?” Fabienne said imperiously once she turned on the lights and confronted the three of us.
“I do! I apologize, Maitresse Fabienne!” my mother immediately stripped out of the dress and stood with her legs apart and her hands behind her head. My sister awoke and came out of the bedroom to watch the spectacle.
“I was waiting for the Circus to come to Paris to see if they would actually make me an offer to take you in their sideshow to perform your animal acts. We could bill you like a wild jungle woman and get some recompense for the extravagant expenses of providing you with chains and cages. However, you have left me no choice. Mr. Nicephore and I will visit the Magistrate in the morning and apply to have you committed to the Women’s Correctional Facility without a trial. I will bring you along so you can confess all your wickedness!”
“No, please, Fabienne! Beat me! Discipline me!” my mother begged and pleaded. She got down on her knees and cried. It did not dissuade her mother-in-law. “Robert MADE me put this on! He gave me money and told me to vanish! I didn’t want to go, which is why I struggled and fell down the stairs!” my mother lied.
“Why would he do that?” Fabienne held Robert in low-regard because he could be weak-willed, but she didn’t believe him capable of deceit or lying. He was still her only son, and she adored him.
“He wants you all for himself! He told me he wanted to remove all other temptations! He wants to ravish you!” My mother lied.
“Is this true, Robert? Would you like to ravish your mother?” she asked Robert with a coy smile on her face like the idea appealed to her.
“No!” my father answered adamantly. He was usually non-confrontational, but on this matter, he resolutely denied having any carnal feelings for his mother. I suddenly felt guilty having those feelings for mine.
“No one would blame you, Robert. Your wife is an animal and a gutter whore. Connasse belongs in a house of reform or an asylum. I would take better care of you and meet your needs,” Fabienne said lustily. She was wearing a very slight robe that revealed her breasts and some of her pubic hair. My grandmother was quite shapely and attractive despite being in her late fifties.
“Mamma, can we discuss this another time in private?” my father answered nervously.
“Yes, in the meantime, we shall see that Connasse is made more comfortable and ready for her new life in prison!” Fabienne explained.
We chained up my mother tightly and hung her over the breakfast table. I was told to shove a brass tube up her asshole. I could see the pink chamber inside of my mother’s bowels through the tube. I could hear her stomach rumblings, and flatulence echoed down the tube.
“Satisfy your curiosity, Guillaume,” Fabienne warned me that once the paperwork was started, it would only be a matter of weeks before the Prison made room for her, and then I would not be able to do so. “They are at capacity, but I am sure they will make room for a whore like her!”
My mother’s tongue was stretched out and attached to a clip that was chained above her head. A candle was placed in her pussy and then lit so that the wax dripped down onto her groin and down the crack of her ass.
“That will do for tonight. In the morning, I will think of something more severe!” she said and left my mother swinging in the darkness.
In the morning, Mr. Nicephore accompanied my mother and Fabienne to the Magistrate’s office. I didn’t get to attend, but they made my mother sign a formal confession and were told it might be as long as a month before they could find room for her.
Mr. Nicephore said that he knew some Ottomans who might be willing to purchase my mother for a price. Fabienne believed that such a fate as getting to live in the pleasure palace as a harem girl was too good for my mother.
That next week Fabienne was much more severe and resolved to make my mother’s life miserable. “You have to prepare for prison. I’ve been far too soft on you until now,” she said. We kept Connasse chained at all times, and the beating sessions continued all day long.
Fabienne caught me fucking my mother during one of her beatings and said nothing. She simply sighed and blamed Connasse. “Your erotic gyrations have tempted him to use you as a wife. I hope you are satisfied with yourself,” she said and left me to beat and fuck my mother roughly in the small room.
We did not do animal training that week. There was very little time for the playful aspects of my mother’s humiliations. Instead, Fabienne showed me how to apply a water cure to my mother, and together with my father, we forced her to drink water until her eyes bulged. Her stomach was distended, and then we repeated the act over and over while my Grandmother laughed.
My mother was not permitted to cum or masturbate in the living room either. One day as I was relieving myself in a chamber pot, my Grandmother entered my room. “Why do you use this pot when you have a wonderful chamber pot in the small room?” she said as she held my cock.
She led me out of my room and over to the small room where my mother was squatting with her legs chained to the wall and her hands bound behind her back. My mother’s mouth was gagged with a brass fitting so that her mouth was forced open, and her tongue was exposed. I often enjoyed cutting up tiny bits of bread and putting them in her mouth when she wore that gag. It was delightful watching her try to move the bread around with her tongue until she could swallow it.
Spit was dripping down her chin onto her massive tits.
“Here is your chamber pot,” she said as she put my cock to my mother’s mouth.
My mother grunted angrily with resistance on her face.
“Do you think the guards of the prison will not use your face as a piss-pot? Be thankful I don’t let Guillaume shit on your face! You’ll swallow anything that goes into your whore mouth, won’t you?” she said.
My mother shed a single tear and nodded in agreement. I felt no mercy or sympathy for her. After she intended to abandon me, I relished the opportunity to make her life hell. I pissed in her mouth and stuck my dick down her throat to choke her. Fabienne wholeheartedly approved.
My father never used my mother’s face that way. She licked his dick twice a day until it was hard enough that Fabienne could finish him by hand, but he avoided her. Fabienne was convinced my father was too soft on her. Strangers and neighbors who came to fuck my mother were invited to piss in her face, and they frequently did.
I remember one day when our neighbor Monsieur Henri came to fuck my mother. He visited at least once a week despite the fact that his wife disapproved of his using my mother. My mother was hanging upside down spread eagle in the small room. I had discovered tying tight bindings around my mother’s tits made them turn purple, and my grandmother approved. I was experimenting with how long I could leave her this way. My mother could endure a great deal of pain and humiliation, but even she had her limits. I also enjoyed covering her mouth and choking the air out of her. She usually orgasmed just as she fainted, and when she awoke, her cunt was a dripping mess.
It was one such day when Henri came to visit. Nannette was drawing on my mother’s ass with a charcoal. My little sister drew a penis-shaped like mine on both of my mother's butt cheeks.
“I will be sad to see this whore go to the prison! I’ve enjoyed fucking her these last few weeks,” he said to me. He held up one of his muddy boots to my mother, and she licked the sole clean of dirt for him.
I didn’t say anything. I was still shy around adults, especially when they came to fuck my mother.
“How about you, Nannette? Would you be willing to take your mother’s place when she is gone? Your talkative brother and I will need something to amuse us,” he said.
Nannette smiled at him, playfully, and touched her flat chest. She was quite lovely for a young girl, and her blonde hair was braided in tight pigtails. She was wearing a simple gown with a little lace on it.
“One day, your adorable puffy little nipples will balloon to the size of your whore of a mother’s great milk sacks,” the rough man touched my sister’s boobs. She backed away teasingly. She wasn’t inviting him to touch her, but she was also not running away.
“Watch this,” Henri the Butcher removed his cock from his trousers and began to rub it between my mother’s breasts. “Would you like me to do that to you?” he asked my sister.
My mother said nothing. She sighed as if she were bored while our neighbor used her tits for his amusement.
“No Monsieur,” my sister said, but she giggled and laughed like she might want him to do it to her. It was a confusing mixed message that was not uncommon to girls around her age. I’d heard the same tone from girls my own age.
“I think you will like it,” Henri smiled and said he’d give her candy if she let him try. He rested his bearded chin on my mother’s cunt lips while he fucked her face and played with her tits.
“Oh, haha, Monsieur! Just one candy? What kind is it? Chocolate?” my little sister asked. She loved chocolate candy.
“Limon,” my mother answered abruptly that the flavor of the candy was lemonade, and she let out of a fountain of hot piss directly into Henri’s face.
Nannette giggled, and Henri was mortified and shocked. His greyish black beard was dripping with my mother’s piss. “You whore of Babylon! How dare you piss on my face!”
I laughed, and so did Nannette. It was so outrageous an act of defiance, and the comic timing of the act was perfect. Even my mother laughed even though she knew she would be beaten. Henri expected me to spank my mother’s cunt, but I couldn’t.
I felt the dirty old man received the justice he deserved for trying to play with my little sister.
My grandmother did not agree! When Henri told her what had happened, he left out the part about touching my sister’s boobies and trying to seduce her. He merely told him what a piss-whore my mother was and how she humiliated him.
“You left out the part about touching Nannette and offering her candy to play with her,” I summoned all my courage and confronted him in front of my Grandmother. It was quite a step for me, and something children generally did not do in practice in Victorian households.
“I was only kidding,” Henri shrugged it off like it was no big deal.
Oddly, Fabienne saw no harm in the act either. She told me it was just a friendly game and that it was perfectly natural. “You know how you like to play with your mother sometimes? You can play like that with other girls. Some of us like it,” she explained to me.
“I don’t think Nannette would have liked it, Mamma!” I said. My grandmother had warmed to me now that I kept my mother in line, and she liked it when I called her Mamma.
“Nannette isn’t old enough to know what she likes,” My grandmother explained. It was for that very reason I thought she shouldn’t be offered a choice. However, Fabienne felt it meant she needed to decide for herself what she liked.
“I don’t think Monsieur Henri’s wife even likes being touched by him. I doubt Nannette would either,” I joked. My little sister giggled impishly. Henri glared at me, but he didn’t address me.
“Your grandson is insolent, just like his whore-bitch of a mother! I expect you to deal with him,” he insisted, and with that, he stormed out of our apartment.
“I will deal with you,” Fabienne told me as she led me by the hand to my parent’s bedroom. I thought she was going to lash me, and when she told me to take off my clothes, I obeyed. She hadn’t spanked me since I started disciplining my mother. I bent over the bed to await the lash.
“It will work better if I bend over the bed,” Fabienne told me. I looked over my shoulder. She had removed my mother’s skimpy outfit. She stood before me with nothing but a smile. Her long dark hair speckled with flecks of grey fell down around her shoulders as she shook it free of the bun. Her tits were well proportioned and almost as big as my mothers. Fabienne had a very shapely pear-shaped bottom. Her skin was milk-white and quite soft. My mother’s skin felt hard like leather from all the beatings, and she was always sticky from cum and sweat that clung to her skin. Fabienne smelled sweet like parfum and candy. She bent over the bed and wiggled her ass for me.
I spanked with my hand, and she chuckled.
“That is not what I meant for you to do, but if it turns you on to play with me before we begin, then have your way with me,” she said.
I didn’t realize until I had spanked her nine times across the buttocks that she meant for me to fuck her. She guided my cock towards her when I finished spanking her and lined me up with her pussy hole. Her cunt was not shaven like my mother, and it felt warm and tight.
“Show me how Polyphemus digs a hole,” my Grandmother turned away from me and let me fuck her from behind. I jammed a thumb in her anus as I frequently did my mother.
“You don’t have to be as rough with me as your mother,” she didn’t protest. She smiled broadly and told me to continue if it pleased me. I fucked her in the ass after I came inside her. She told me that women her age could not get pregnant and that I could cum inside her as often as I liked.
“How many little girls do you do this with at school?” she asked me as we embraced on the bed later while I recovered from an orgasm.
“None, Mamma!” I said.
“Don’t call me that anymore,” she smiled. I thought she meant to say that I had to return to calling her Madame Fabienne on a more formal basis.
“You are growing into a man. You can call me Fabienne,” she said. She didn’t even let her son call her that! My dick grew hard again, and she smiled and told me that young boys amaze her. “When I was your age, I had no idea how much I would miss a cock that can regrow with a few strokes and naughty words. You are a wonder, Guillaume,” she said as she took my cock into her mouth and sucked me hard. She fucked me seven times before my father came home.
I think he suspected something, but Fabienne told him that she had given me an attitude adjustment for allowing my mother to piss all over Henri. Robert had no reason to suspect anything torrid had happened. We had left my mother hanging upside down for most of the afternoon with tight cords around her tits. She had pissed all down her belly, and she looked exhausted and light-headed. Her tits had turned purple, yellow, and brown, and her face was bright red.
My mother’s expression when I helped take her down was one of suspicion. I think she knew I had fucked my grandmother all afternoon.
Fabienne decided that my mother’s punishment for humiliating Monsieur Henri would be a water cure. She was not satisfied with any normal water cure. Instead, she made my mother gather all the chamber pots and fill them with water. My mother knew that the piss and turds floating in the chamber pots would soon be filling her mouth, but she obediently brought them to us and set them down without spilling a drop.
Robert and I applied her water cure using the chamber pots. When my mother spit up the first round of piss-water, we used the same water to give her a second cure. It was disgusting and foul, but my mother obeyed and swallowed piss.
After that day, my mother was expected to drink the contents of our chamber pots before emptying the shit outside. We also frequently hung her upside down until she pissed herself and watched her yellow stream roll down her belly and face before letting her lap it up off the floor.
My mother was almost never without a brass tube up her ass. She even shit down the tube at times and had to wiggle until it fell out the other end of the tube in an alley beside our Apartment.
My grandmother let me have sex with her frequently whenever the mood struck her fancy. It was usually after I punished my mother when my father was not home. “Wouldn’t you rather fuck me than your nasty hog of a mother? You won’t have long to keep playing with her anyway,” she warned me. She never told me I couldn’t fuck my mother, though, and I continued to fuck her too.
That final month I stopped letting Connasse lick my dick until Fabienne gave me a handjob. Instead, I had sex with them both.
My father never knew I was fucking either of them, or if he did, he was too embarrassed to say anything.
Nannette knew that I was fucking my mother. She often watched and even asked me questions while I had sex with my mother about what I was doing and why.
She also made Robert and I watch her have sex with Mr. Nicephore. She wasn’t shy or bashful with her body any longer around either of us.
“I find it improper that your son and grandson are watching,” Mr. Nicephore protested the first time I was invited to watch. I say invited, but the request that I stay in the bedroom was a polite command from my Grandmother, and I knew that.
“You find a lot of things improper, Monsieur Nicephore,” Fabienne smiled at him as she undressed him. “You find Sodomy improper, yet you enjoy that. Perhaps you’d like to do that with my Grandson? I am sure he would oblige,” she suggested.
I did not want to be fucked in the ass!
“I do not like young boys!” Mr. Nicephore was astonished that she would dare make the offer.
“What about Nannette? Do you like young girls?” she offered my little sister casually to the Landlord. I was so angry. I wanted to protect Nannette even though I’d seen her experiment frequently with sticking things in her own holes.
“That could be interesting, but she needs a little more time to ripen on the vine,” Mr. Nicephore said.
My father said nothing. He simply stared at my mother quietly like an impotent cuckold. Things had changed between him and Fabienne after my mother’s first escape attempt. She no longer trusted my father, and she started more and more to treat me as the man of the house. I even received the best cuts of meat and larger portions of the meal. My grandmother told me it was because I was a growing boy.
Indeed, I had a growth spurt during this month, or at least I felt more mature and stronger than I had before my mother’s re-education.
I rarely spoke to my mother. I beat her frequently and punished her. She often begged me to humiliate her and hurt her further. I obliged or sometimes ignored her pleas, but I had little to say to her. I did not forget that she was ready to leave Nannette and me. I did not forget that she told my father that she preferred her beat her instead of me.
Fabienne increasingly teased and ridiculed Connasse about being sent to women’s correction. She made her visit and say that she was looking forward to being imprisoned there. My mother often said she wanted to be rehabilitated, but there was to be no rehabilitation or release in her future.
As we entered the final week before my mother would be collected by the Magistrate and dragged to Prison, I let go of some of my anger towards her. Her frequent confessions and pleas to join the prison were convincing, and I felt sorry for her.
I had her bent over a warm radiator while I fucked her in the ass in the kitchen. I made her lift one leg, and I was squeezing her nipples. I frequently had sex with her right out in the open –even in front of my father.
Today, I had remained home from school to play with her. My father was at work, and my little sister was in her primary school. My grandmother was at Mr. Nicephore’s house, having sex with him.
“Oh yes, you fuck me so good! Maitre Guillaume,” my mother cried out with pleasure.
“Isn’t that what you told Robert? That he beats you better than me?” I rarely spoke to her. This was the first time I let her know that I had heard what she said the night she tried to escape.
“That was all talk. Your father is weak, and he needs his ego boosted, Maitre Robert!” My mother bucked her ass into my cock, and despite the discomfort of resting, her naked body across the radiator splayed herself across it for my pleasure.
“You must think the same thing of me!” I insisted my mother must consider me weak since she told me the same things.
“No, Maitre Guillaume! I had no idea you would be so strong and brutal. I admit I thought you were a foolish bashful boy at first, but you have been so efficient in your duties. I love serving you! I doubt with all the naked women to choose from any prison guard will give me the kind of personal attention that you provide!” she said.
I didn’t believe her words. I grunted and came all over her ass cheeks as I pulled out of my mother’s asshole.
“Oh! Thank you!” my mother saw the warm cum glaze on her buttocks and wiggled with triumph when I was finished. I ordered her to roll into a ball and try to lick her own ass.
“I am limber, but I am afraid that is impossible for me unless I remove a few bones from my ribcage, Maitre Guillaume!” she said.
“Fine, let my seed drip down your thighs and clean my cock with your mouth,” I said.
“Yes, Maitre Guillaume!” my mother obliged and began to suck my cock. I pulled her hair and pushed her head down on my dick. I no longer limited myself to her, licking the tip of my cock head. I used her face like I used any other hole on her body. She was a cum rag to me now and nothing more.
“I will miss you,” She said to me when I finished using her face and released her hair.
“You are a good liar, Connasse,” I said. I no longer knew the name Madeleine. I no longer saw her as my mother.
“You are a good son, Maitre Guillaume!” my mother smiled at me lovingly. “I saw how you were offended when Monsieur Henri tried to touch Nannette. You wanted to protect her,” she admired me.
“You pissed on his face to scare him away,” I chuckled a little. I wanted to be angry with her, but she was going away soon, and she was being nice to me. I still cared for her even if I did not want to admit it to myself. I still thought of her as my mother on some level, too – despite what I just told you.
“I would have done that with or without Nannette involved,” my mother admitted she hated Henri and was glad that he stopped coming over to fuck her after that day. She smiled, playfully at me.
“I will miss you too,” I admitted to my mother. She kissed me like a lover, not a mother, and told me that was music to her ears. I have to admit, she kissed much better than my Grandmother, and it took my breath away.
“You really weren’t concerned about Nannette?” I asked. I wanted to care about my mother’s fate, but just now, she had told me she would have pissed on Henri simply because he had his face on her crotch. It made me wonder if she cared what became of us when she was gone.
“I was younger than Nannette the first time I had sex. She is a pretty and curious girl. I would be surprised if she wasn’t playing with herself every night before bed or getting humped already,” she shrugged.
She explained that most girls had sex around Nannette's age. I didn’t agree because I said if that were true, then me and my friends would have had sex with girls around that age.
“Older men are usually the ones who take their virginity,” my mom explained that men ruled the world, and they make the rules. She smiled and said that older men sometimes had a preference for younger boys as well. I knew some of the local Catholic Priests were rumored to be sodomites.
My mother told me a short story about her youth. She said that her mother died when she was very young. She told me that her father and brothers started using her and her sister before she was Nannette’s age.
“That is terrible,” I said.
“It is the way of the world. Pretty little girls are a commodity,” My mother shrugged and said it wasn’t unpleasant. “I enjoy sex, and I enjoyed the attention, but my older sister not so much. She was beaten and bound to make her more compliant. It amused my father to watch us hang from ropes in the shed or make her sleep in the kennels,” she explained.
“I thought you said that you enjoyed it. Why did your father punish you if you were compliant?” I thought I caught my mother in one of her lies.
“As I told you, I enjoyed the attention, and it amused my father to punish us – so we were. We became good fuck bunnies and whores by the time I was your age. My sister wanted to run away, and I came with her. We were caught, and I ended up in a nunnery. The first thing they did after they stripped me and made me confess my sins was stuff my nose in a sister’s hairy pussy! I spent more time with nose in a cunt than I did with it in a Bible!” she chuckled.
She told me this was just how the world worked and accepted it. She told me that eventually, she escaped the convent, but her sister didn’t leave. She expected to eventually find her sister in the women’s correction prison. “She was a bad girl, just like me. I am sure if she is not in a convent or a brothel, then she is in the prison!”
I wanted to know how she met my father and what put her on the path of debauched sex and carousing, but she had finished her story.
“You had better shove this pipe up my asshole before Fabienne gets home,” she said. She didn’t call her Maitresse. I felt this was another test of whether I’d be a stickler about forms of address when Fabienne wasn’t home. It may have also been she simply wanted our conversation to continue and an invitation to punish her for her own wicked amusements. Despite the hardships, my mother frequently got turned on by the most painful of perverse tortures.
“When you ask me to shove the pipe up your ass, you make it seem like you can’t wait for it. Do you really enjoy it?” I asked as I worked the pipe deep into her asshole.
“It doesn’t matter, Maitre Guillaume. I found out a long time ago that whether I smile or cry, I’ll still have to accept the pipe is going up my ass. There are times that I do enjoy being treated this way. You fucking me over the radiator was pleasurable, and at the same time, the heat burned my tummy, and you wasted the cum all over my ass and left it to dry. I am a wicked cunt, and I have to accept discomfort and pain whether I like it or not,” she explained her life was a mixed bag of pleasures and humiliations.
She bent over and spread her ass cheeks for me without a trace of shame for what I had to do. She could wink her asshole at me and pucker her pussy lips in that position. I loved watching her do that for me. I didn’t grease up her pipe or need to work it in before pushing it back into place.
“I mean, sometimes you remind me to beat you or piss in your face and tell us how much you can’t wait to go to prison to atone for your past behavior. Do you really want that?” I asked.
“As I said, Guillaume,” my mother intentionally didn’t call me Maitre. She spoke to me in the same condescending tone she might have as Madeleine. “It doesn’t matter if I want to do it or not, it is going to happen. There are times when I want to repent, and I find a good beating makes me feel less like a bitch. My sister was a true believer. She believed that it is an ancient tenant of Christian morality that sin must be expiated through penitence. All that was touched by sin must be purified through penitence. Following this principle, the body contributed to sin and, therefore, must be punished. The body is sin's instrument and organ, and so must it be its victim. She refused to leave the convent and used a flogger on herself when the nun's arms got tired of beating her. There are times I admire her strength and wish I was like her,” she said as she shook her ass playfully like she was swishing a bronzed cannon seated between her ass crack.
“Then there are times that I know you enjoy playing with my ass and want to make you happy. I don’t want you to feel guilty about what you have to do to me. It is better you than a stranger,” my mother said. She had a very convincing expression of warmth on her face that made me believe her.
“Then there are times like now when I know if you didn’t have that brass pipe up my ass by the time Fabienne returns she would punish you AND me,” she smiled as I patted her butt and led her to the small room by the chain around her neck.
I tied up my mother and ignored her for a little while to do some reading. My Grandmother had a book in her bedroom called Venus in Furs. It was translated from the original Austrian into French. It was a very advanced novel for someone my age, but I am a smart boy. I would never have understood the references if I had not been living through some of them.
The framing story concerns a man who dreams of speaking to Venus about love while she wears furs. The unnamed narrator tells his dreams to a friend, Severin, who tells him how to break himself of his fascination with cruel women by reading a manuscript, Memoirs of a Suprasensual Man.
This manuscript tells of a man, Severin von Kusiemski, who is so infatuated with a woman, Wanda von Dunajew, that he asks to be her slave, and encourages her to treat him in progressively more degrading ways. I found parallels to this and my mother’s frequent requests to be humiliated and punished.
At first, Wanda does not understand or accede to the request, but after humoring Severin a bit, she finds the advantages of the method to be interesting and enthusiastically embraces the idea, although, at the same time, she disdains Severin for allowing her to do so.
Severin describes his feelings during these experiences as suprasensuality. Severin and Wanda travel to Florence. Along the way, Severin takes the generic Russian servant's name of "Gregor" and the role of Wanda's servant. In Florence, Wanda treats him brutally as a servant and recruits a trio of African women to dominate him.
The end of the book confused me. After Severin sacrifices his dignity and free will to Wanda, she no longer wants him. She meets a Byronic hero known as Alexis Papadopolis and wishes to submit herself to him. At the end of the book, Severin, humiliated by Wanda's new lover, loses the desire to submit.
I stopped at the passage where Severin is disenchanted and describing Wanda. “That woman, as nature has created her, and man at present is educating her, is man's enemy. She can only be his slave or his despot, but never his companion. This she can become only when she has the same rights as he and is his equal in education and work.”
I heard our front door slam, and I went to see what was happening.
“Monsieur Nicephore, please, I implore you to have mercy on me!” Fabienne said.
“I am afraid that you have left me no choice! I have to denounce you before the magistrate. I would be committing perjury not to include the entirety of your crimes!” Mr. Nicephore insisted. He left abruptly and wished her a good and happy life.
Fabienne cried until my father came home from work. She explained to him that Mr. Nicephore was going to denounce her to the magistrate for crimes against nature. My grandmother had sex with me, let me and my father watch her have sex. Mr. Nicephore was also going to assert that he knew I was fucking my mother when we disciplined her.
“Then I should go to prison!” I said.
“Don’t be silly,” Robert told me not to worry. There were clearly two different standards for the behavior of men and women. Only my grandmother stood to be tried for her crimes.
“We can testify on your behalf, and I am sure you won’t be convicted,” my father assured her nervously. His tone was uncertain and only increased Fabienne’s worry. It was a certainty my mother would be going to prison because she had been forced to confess. My father said Fabienne might be able to avoid any lengthy sentence.
“A lengthy sentence? Five years is the minimum sentence!” Fabienne said nervously. She would be tattooed and processed, just like my mother! “The shame alone of being tried will ruin my reputation, but if I get released, I would have to live in the gutter like a common whore! There is no place in polite society for a woman convicted of indecency!” she admitted.
It became apparent that Fabienne had other deviant perversions that she didn’t tell us about that she was concerned about.
When my mother learned about this, she laughed so hard that she pissed herself. “Well, mother in law, I look forward to sharing a cell with you! Would you like to strip now and prepare yourself as you have prepared me?” she asked.
“This is no joking matter!” Fabienne lashed out at my mother, but she was consumed with worry about our landlord’s threats. She didn’t focus on my mother at all. She spent most of her time in the bedroom, writing letters, and trying to plan her next steps.
Over the next few days, I was the only one to punish my mother, feed her, or use her. I did not bother going to school.
“Maitre Guillaume,” my Mother addressed me. I had her seated on the wooden Spanish Horse with leg weights crushing her pussy lips. We talked much more frequently now.
“We must get out of this place,” she said. “When they arrest Fabienne, your father will fall apart. He needs a strong woman to tell him what to do and keep his house in order. Help me escape, and I will serve you as I do now!” she promised.
I told her that I heard make the same offer to my father a month ago.
“I thought you might have heard that. You have been holding a grudge for quite some time. Your father is weak. I thought I could manipulate him to do my bidding. I didn’t count on him being an imbecile, too,” she said.
“You were the one who tripped down the stairs,” I reminded her.
“True, but this time I have a plan! I need you to make it work,” she said.
“Because I am weak-willed like my father?” I said. I thought of Wanda in the Book Venus in Furs.
“No, because you are clever and strong!” she said. “I was afraid you would tell on me before. Fabienne is concerned about her own hide now. She isn’t going to care if you tell on me,” she said.
“Are you so sure?” I asked her.
“You won’t tell on me anyway. You know we have to leave. It is obvious, Maitre Guillaume. This house is going to fall apart,” she said. She was right. Fabienne had stopped paying bills, and without the pension from her deceased husband, I doubted my father could afford this apartment on his salary.
“Do you want to leave without Nannette?” I asked her sourly. It still bothered me how quickly my mother would have abandoned me.
“Where I am going is the streets and underbelly of Paris. The only jobs there are pimps and whores. I did not want that fate for either of you. I think you will make a fine pimp one day, though. If Nannette comes with us, then you must understand she will most likely become a whore like me. Do you want that fate for her?”
“What happens if she stays here?” I asked my mother to make a prediction.
“Mr. Nicephore and Henri will prey upon her, and Robert will let it happen,” she said.
“Fine, then the three of us will go, but I make all the final decisions!” I said. I didn’t like either choice but at least with me she stood a chance of being protected.
“Yes, Maitre Guillaume! So assertive! Here is what you must do,” she explained her plan of escape to me in great detail. It was thrilling and frightening to considering escaping with my mother. The idea of this grand adventure felt like my life was going to be just like the main character in an erotic novel! I was frightened and excited at the same time.
My mother admitted to me, that was how she felt ALL the time about being kept naked and chained.
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