Previous chapters:
One

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Melissa tried to pretend that nothing had happened between her and her son. She tried to pretend that she’d never exposed her breasts to Ethan to reward him for getting an A on his history essay, and never allowed him to masturbate in front of her and ejaculate over her face and tits.

But two days later, Ethan came home from school as Melissa was cleaning the kitchen, and slapped a marked exam down on the kitchen bench.

“A+ on my English test,” he said. “What do you think about that, cunt?”

He had been calling her “bitch” and “cunt” ever since the earlier incident. He could see that it made her flinch and become deferential every time he did it, and he had been ruthless in using it to gain every advantage in their dynamic that he could. Melissa hated it. She hated it because Ethan’s father had once insisted on calling her those names – and she hated it because, even today, coming from her son’s mouth, they still made her pussy tingle in response.

“Ethan, please don’t call me that,” she said. She hated the word “please” there – like she was asking permission, rather than enforcing boundaries – but she couldn’t help herself.

“I get a wish when I get an A in school,” said Ethan. “That’s what we agreed, isn’t it, cunt?”

It *was* what they had agreed, although Melissa had more than a little regret about making the deal. She knew she had to get Ethan’s grades up before he graduated at the end of the year, and this was the only thing so far that had seemed to motivate him – but at the same time she was scared of this new, demanding, cruel version of her son.

“Ethan, please don’t call me a cunt,” she said again.

Ethan sighed – and then walked around the kitchen bench and slapped his mother across the face.

Melissa gasped, and clutched her cheek. This, too, was something that Ethan was doing now – slapping her when she disagreed with him. Part of her knew she should give zero tolerance to this behaviour – even if it meant calling the police – but another part of her felt like, at some level, she deserved it. That was what Ethan’s father had always told her when he slapped her, anyway.

“Mom, you didn’t even finish school,” said Ethan. “Whereas I have an A+ on my English test. So I think if there’s anyone here who gets to decide what words are appropriate, it’s me, wouldn’t you say?”

She looked up at him with wide eyes, not understanding what he was saying.

“In fact, I think that’s my wish,” said Ethan. “I get to decide the words we use around here from now on. If I call you a cunt or a bitch, you’ll answer if that’s your name, understand?”

She shook her head, fearfully – not that she didn’t understand, but that she didn’t want to do it.

Ethan slapped her again, and she fell to her knees. He stood over her, backing her into the corner against the kitchen sink.

“Didn’t you promise me a wish, bitch?” asked Ethan. “Are you trying to back out? Do you want me to fail at school?”

Melissa didn’t know what to say. She shook her head again.

“Then you agree that cunt and bitch are good names for you,” said Ethan.

There was nowhere for Melissa to escape to.

She nodded.

“Say, ‘yes, cunt and bitch are good names for me’,” said Ethan.

“Yes,” mumbled Melissa. “Cunt and bitch are good names for me.”

“And you’re going to call me ‘sir’, like you did the other day,” said Ethan.

Ethan’s father had made Melissa call him ‘sir’ too.

“Yes, sir,” mumbled Melissa.

“That’s better,” said Ethan. Then he lifted his foot – still clad in his school shoes – and placed the tip of it at her neck. She felt the leather press against her flesh. Then he brought his shoe down – and as it moved down her chest, it caught the front of her dress and bra, pulling them downwards until her tits popped into view – naked, full, and round. 

Ethan removed his foot, and took his cock out of his pants. Melissa knew what was about to happen. She held still.

Her son masturbated in front of her, staring at her tits, until he reached orgasm. Hot, wet cum splattered across Melissa’s face and breasts.

“Good bitch,” said Ethan. “Say thank you.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Melissa. A glob of her son’s sperm fell from her upper lip into her mouth as she spoke, and she reflexively swallowed it before she had time to think, operating on instincts once trained into her by Ethan’s father.

“You know what to do with that, don’t you, cunt?” asked Ethan.

She did, from her last sexual encounter with her son. “Leave it on my skin until tomorrow morning to remind me what I’ve done,” she said.

Ethan smiled. “That’s right,” he said. “Now start making dinner, cunt. I’m hungry.”

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Answering to the names “cunt” and “bitch”, and calling her son “sir”, created a profound shift in the power dynamic between Melissa and Ethan. She subconsciously saw him now as taller, more mature, more commanding, and found it harder to remember that she was supposed to have authority and dignity as his mother.

He never used her name anymore, which helped her get used to answering to the demeaning names. He printed out a sign that said “CUNT” and put it on her bedroom door. He even made her answer the phone by saying, “This is Cunt”, and if he caught her saying anything else, he would slap her. He liked to ring her phone to test her, and Melissa got into the habit quickly. Luckily, in this age of the internet, she rarely received voice phone calls, and so far had only called herself a cunt to two telemarketers.

Ethan invited some of his school friends round for a movie night a few days after his English test, and he did not relent on his rules merely because there were spectators.

“Hey, cunt,” he yelled to Melissa as she walked through the room where they were watching the movies.. “Bring us some snacks.”

Melissa blushed – but said, “Yes, sir,” and went to do as she was told. 

There was shocked laughter from Ethan’s friends – but when Melissa returned with bowls of potato chips, all of Ethan’s friends were joining in.

“Thanks, bitch,” said one boy, laughing. “These are good chips, cunt,” said another. “Well done.”

She noticed that the movie they were watching was porn. She was serving snacks to 18-year-old boys who were calling her a cunt as they watched porn.

Melissa retreated to her bedroom, humiliated – and found herself urgently needing to masturbate. What was wrong with her? Why did this treatment turn her on?

She knew why. Ethan’s father had told her why, on many occasions. She felt like this because she was a disgusting whore who needed to be slapped.

She orgasmed hard, gasping and shuddering.

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Ethan’s next A was in Biology, and her heart sank when he showed her the snap test he had earned it in, because she knew it meant fresh humiliation for her – even as she chided herself for her reaction, because, after all, her son *was* doing better in school.

“Well done, sir,” she said quietly as she looked at the test.

“We’ve been looking at mating behaviour in animals,” said Ethan. “They talked about animals going into heat, and they asked if anyone had ever seen that, and I said my cunt of a mother was in heat pretty much all the time.”

Melissa’s eyes widened. Had Ethan really said that, in class, in front of a room full of students and a teacher?

“Are you in heat right now, cunt?” asked Ethan.

Melissa stammered with shock and humiliation. “N – n- no, sir.”

“Show me,” said Ethan.

“What?” asked Melissa. “What do you mean?”

Ethan slapped her, and Melissa felt her cunt wetten.

“You know what I mean, bitch,” said Ethan. “Show me your cunt, so you can prove you’re not in heat. This is my wish for this A grade. I get to check if you’re a whore whenever I want. Show me your twat, bitch.”

Melissa had nowhere to go, no route of escape. Nervously, she reached under her dress, dug her fingers into the waistband of her panties, and then pulled them down her legs. When they reached her ankles, she stepped out of them – and then, her face bright red, her eyes turned away to avoid eye contact, she lifted the front of her dress.

Ethan smiled as he stared at the fuckhole that had given birth to him. It was shaved – Ethan’s father had made it clear that her pussy should always, always be shaved, and she hadn’t dared to stop even years after he had left. 

“You ARE in heat,” said Ethan. “Look at you, you’re wet like an animal. What a whorish cunt you are.”

Melissa whimpered, and remained still, her dress still lifted.

“What’s this?” asked Ethan, reaching out to tap something near the top of her pussy slit.

“That’s a ring,” said Melissa. “It’s attached to a clitoris piercing. Your father made me get it, back before you were born.” The ring was a small loop of steel, and it sat just outside her pussy lips, in a way that at first had caused a constant tug on her clitoris, until over time her clit had lengthened slightly to better accommodate the jewellery.

“Why did he make you get that?” asked Ethan.

Melissa went even redder, and mumbled something inaudible.

Ethan slapped her.

“Don’t you mumble when you’re talking to me, bitch,” he snarled. “Why did Dad make you get the ring?”

“So he could attach a leash to it,” admitted Melissa, humiliated.

Her son laughed. “Good old Dad,” he said. “I wish he could have met him. He seems like he had good ideas on how to treat a cunt.”

Melissa couldn’t help but think that the Ethan standing before her now would have gotten along with his father very well indeed.

“Go and lie on my bed,” said Ethan suddenly, “and spread those cunt lips to give me a good look.”

Melissa blinked. “I don’t understand,” she said. “Why?”

Ethan slapped her again. “You don’t need to understand, bitch,” he said. “And you don’t ever need to know why. Just do it.”

He moved to allow her out of the kitchen, and Melissa scurried obediently to her son’s bed. She had to move some used clothes off it, but she was able to lie down, spread her legs, and use her fingers to spread her cunt lips.

Ethan followed her into the room. “You don’t approve of me looking at porn, do you?” he asked.

She didn’t. She felt that a good mother wouldn’t let her son jack off to pictures of women being abused. But she said nothing.

“You don’t need to answer,” he said. “I know you don’t. That’s because you’re a stupid cunt who can’t do anything right. But I’m actually going to do you a favour. I’m going to give you a chance to reduce the amount of porn I look at.”

He moved to stand between her legs, and took out his cock. For a moment, Melissa thought her son was going to rape her – but instead, he just looked down at her cunt and began to stroke his dick.

“From now on, when I need to masturbate, I’m going to look at you, instead of porn,” said Ethan. “Understand? You’ll bare your tits or cunt or whatever else I want to look at, while I jack off onto you. And if you’re sufficiently entertaining I won’t need porn. But if you’re boring, maybe I’ll look at porn instead, but still cum on you Do you understand, bitch?”

There was nothing Melissa could say except, “Yes, sir.”

And she watched, embarrassingly aroused, humiliatingly wet-cunted, as Ethan stared at her fuckhole, and stroked his cock, until finally he moaned, and spurted, and she felt his semen splash onto her face, and her dress, and then the last drops land directly on the pussy that Ethan had been birthed from.

And, as before, she would leave that cum on her skin until the next morning, to remind her of what she was, and what she was good for.

And as she lay there, devastatingly aroused from being used as a cum-wipe by her own son, she knew with every fibre of her being that she deserved it.

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If you enjoyed this story, you’ll love my novella-length e-book The Etrebor Exchange, available for $7.99 USD at my creator site! (Click here to view in store.)

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