Chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty | Twenty-One | Twenty-Two
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Mitch and Carrie prepared to leave on their date shortly after Bill and Luna had already departed.
Jayna had prepared them perfectly. She had told Mitch to insult and degrade his mother, and call her a cunt to her face at least once before the night was over. And she had told Carrie to encourage her son to degrade her, to look at her tits, and to teach him that a man should expect to kiss his girlfriend and see her tits on the first date. Carrie was carrying a microphone so that Luna could listen to everything – and check that Carrie was obeying her instructions.
Jayna had helped Carrie get ready, doing her make-up and blonde hair in the style that Jayna knew that Mitch most enjoyed in his pornography – a long and straight hairstyle, with just a bit of tousle around the brow. She had helped pick Carrie’s dress, and had found one that Carrie hadn’t worn in years – a slinky black dress with a V-neck that came down to her waist, emphasising her tits and showing clearly that she wasn’t wearing a bra, while also baring her hips as it hung between her legs.
Carrie had managed to change in such a way that Jayna hadn’t seen the chastity belt she was wearing. She couldn’t believe she was going to go on a date with her son when her pussy was wet and there were vibrating dildos in her cunt and ass – but she had no choice.
When she was dressed, she came out into the living room, where Mitch was waiting in his best dress pants and a button-up white shirt.
“How do I look?” she asked nervously.
The truth was that the sight of his mother had given Mitch an erection. He had never seen her like this – so clearly dressed to be fucked. And the nervous, submissive way that she asked for his approval made it even hotter.
But he remembered what Jayna had told him – women needed to be manipulated. If he gave a woman a compliment, he needed to wrap it up in her insult.
“Wow,” he said. “You look pretty good for your age. I didn’t know you had it in you to dress like a whore.”
Carrie felt like she had been slapped. Her own son had said she looked like a whore. And it was true – she *did* look like she wanted to be paid to fuck someone. She couldn’t believe she was doing this.
But Jayna was listening, from her bedroom. And Carrie had to obey Jayna’s instructions.
“Thank you, Mitch,” she said. “You look very sexy yourself. Do you… do you think my tits look good in this?”
In fact, her tits were in pain. There were small, tight clips on each of her nipples, crushing them painfully. Carrie’s tits were often leaking milk these days, and with no bra, Carrie had been frightened that her breasts would visibly soak her dress. Jayna’s solution had been to simply clamp her nipples shut.
Mitch thought her tits looked wonderful, but he took a moment to try and rephrase it as an insult. After a moment, he said, “Don’t you think your tits are kind of big to go without a bra, mom? In that dress they look pretty slutty.”
“You can’t call me ‘mom’ on this date, Mitch,” said Carrie. “People will know we’re related.”
“So what should I call you?” asked Mitch. Then, swallowing, and blushing, he said, “Should I just call you a cunt?”
Carrie again felt like she’d been slapped. But she knew what Jayna wanted her to say.
“If you want, honey,” she said. “That’s an okay thing to call me. Just call me ‘cunt’.”
She did *not* want her beloved son to call her a cunt. And certainly not in public. But if she displeased Jayna, all her recent slutty behaviour would be exposed.
“All right, cunt,” said Mitch, still blushing – but feeling a weird sense of freedom in calling his own mother such a degrading name. “Let’s go to dinner.”
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Carrie drove them to La Valle Bella, an Italian restaurant as far out of town to the south as the steakhouse that Bill and Luns were visiting was to the north.
As they arrived, she paused, and said, “I really like how you took command and called me a cunt back at the house, Mitch. Women get turned on by men who take charge. We like it when men make decisions for us. And the way you insulted me was good too. Women need to hear the truth – and insults give us comfort that a man is in control. You’re doing very well. It’s very sexy.”
“Thanks, mom… I mean, thanks, cunt,” said Mitch.
They went inside and asked for a table for two.
As had happened with Bill and Luna, when the maitre d’ looked them up and down, it was very clear that he came to the conclusion that Carrie was a prostitute.
“May I have a name for the table, sir?” the maitre d’ asked.
“I’m Mitch,” said Mitch. And then, feeling emboldened, he added, “And the waiters can just call her a cunt.”
The maitre d’s eyes widened, and he looked at Carrie questioningly.
Carrie went bright red. This wasn’t acceptable. But anything she said to fix it would contradict Jayna’s instructions.
“Yes,” she said in a small voice. “I’d like the staff to call me a cunt.”
“Very good,” said the maitre d’, and there was no further conversation on the topic.
They were given a corner booth, and presented with menus.
“Any drinks?” asked the waiter.
“I’ll have a beer,” said Mitch, daringly.
“Very good,” said the waiter. “And… for the cunt?”
“Champagne,” said Mitch.
Carrie made an alarmed noise. “Mitch,” she said, “I need to drive.”
“Then drink it slowly,” said Mitch.
The waiter left, to bring them drinks.
Carrie remembered she was supposed to be drawing Mitch’s attention to her tits. She folded one arm beneath her breasts, so she could lift them up slightly, and used the other to trace patterns on her cleavage with her index finger.
Mitch’s gaze obligingly dropped from her face to her boobs.
“So, Mitch,” she said. “Have you… had any experience with girls?”
She really didn’t know what *was* happening in her son’s life. For all Carrie knew, Mitch might have a girlfriend.
For his part, Mitch wasn’t inclined to tell his mother that he had ejaculated into his foster sister’s Jayna’s mouth only hours ago, and that he was regularly molesting and finger-raping his real sister Luna.
So he shrugged, and blushed, and said, “Not a lot. What should I know about them?”
“Well, you’re doing so well already,” said Carrie, bouncing her tits for him. “The thing about girls is… we don’t really know what we want. We need a man to show us. So often we say we don’t want things, or we’re embarrassed or insulted by things, but really we love them.”
“Like when I call you a cunt,” said Mitch. “If you really didn’t want me to do that, you’d stop me.”
“That’s right,” said Carrie, blushing. “I like being called a cunt by you.”
She didn’t. Not at all. Despite the way that her pussy throbbed whenever her son repeated the word.
“I always figured I’d get in trouble calling you a cunt,” said Mitch. “Or saying that your tits look whorish.”
“You would have in the past,” said Carrie. “But… you’re a man now. It’s different.”
The waiter returned with drinks, and asked if they were ready to order.
“I’ll have the carbonara,” said Mitch. “And a salad for the cunt. She needs to watch her weight.”
“Very good,” said the waiter, and left again.
Mitch found he loved making decisions for his mother – particularly when he didn’t seek her agreement or consent.
He pointed to her champagne. “Drink,” he said.
Carrie was worried she’d get light headed, drinking without having eaten first, but she found herself obeying instinctively. The alcohol tasted good.
“So what should I expect from a woman on a first date?” asked Mitch.
Jayna had told Carrie exactly what to answer if asked this question. She didn’t want to say it – but she would.
“You should expect to get a kiss,” she said. “On the lips. With tongue. And… you should expect to see her tits.”
Mitch stared at his mother in shock. The night had already been so strange – but he didn’t expect her to say that.
“I should… expect to see *your* tits?” he asked.
Carrie’s face was bright red. She nodded.
“And what if a girl *doesn’t* show me her tits?” asked Mitch.
Carrie said something in a voice too quiet for Mitch to hear.
“What?” he said. “Speak up, cunt.”
“You should force her,” said Carrie. “Slap her. Make her do it. And you should…”
She paused again.
Mitch stared at her, not believing what he was hearing.
“You should make her touch your cock,” Carrie said, looking down at the table.
“I’m on a date with *you*,” said Mitch. “I should slap *you*, and make *you* touch my cock?”
“Yes,” said Carrie in a small voice. “It will be good practice.”
Mitch didn’t know what to say to that. He fell silent until their food arrived.
And Carrie tried to ignore the vibrations in her asshole and her wet cunt, and tried not to think about what she had just told her own son to do with her, and failed miserably in both regards.
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