“Give me your other hand,” she whispers into my ear, sending goosebumps over my exposed skin from head to toe. My underpants become even more restraining and uncomfortable. When I give in, that wrist is cuffed as well.

My heart beats madly within my chest as a lump settles in my throat. Having had no altercations with the law, I’ve never been restrained like this before. It’s a very vulnerable feeling. One that I’m sure Mother will take advantage of.

The whip flicks against the back of my thigh. When I jump in response, Mother laughs.

“That was just for fun, John. I’ll be nice. As long as you yield.”

She comes back around into view, the clacking of her heels echoing through the house behind me. I hope it doesn’t wake Meisha.

“On your knees.”

My eyes widen. I never expected this. Would I have allowed myself to be cuffed if I knew this was coming? I cannot say. Would I have had a choice anyway?

She rolls the handle of the crop in the palm of her hand, like a threat for disobedience. I don’t wish to feel the sting of it again. There isn’t a masochistic bone in my body.

Careful not to fall on my face, I gingerly kneel on the hard floor. Her eyes glint with a yellow-orange light that reminds me of a fire.

“Very good.” She raises her head in approval. “Now, didn’t you say you were thirsty?”

Scotch. The desire for a drink floods back into my memory. It’s why I got out of bed. I nod my head.

“Mother has something for you that’s way better than plain old scotch.” Her voice is reminiscent of a woman talking to a baby. “Do you want what Mother has for you?”

I realize I do want what Mother is offering. Desperately. The result of every encounter with Mother has been intense pleasure. Why would I deny myself that now? I feel like a dog begging for a treat as I nod my head.

“I can’t hear you.”

“Yes, please.”

“Who are you talking to, John?”

“Yes, Mother. Please.”

Her eyes close, and her mouth falls open in a display of pleasure. “That’s my good boy. Exactly like that, John, and Mother will take care of you every time.”

Since I’m expecting to receive a sip of alcohol, I’m shocked when Mother widens her stance, pushes her small panties to the side, and drips some liquid from between her legs to the floor.

I glance up at her in question.

“Lick it up, John.”

The crop twirls in her hand. I know she’ll use it on me if I refuse.

I close my eyes in disgust as I lean forward and crash down to land on my face and shoulder. My tongue stretches forth from my mouth. I’m ready to be repulsed. I want to gag.

Instead, I’m surprised by the sweetness of the fluid. A wave of desire washes over me as I swallow the first taste.

I need more.

With increasing urgency, I begin to lap up every drop that I can find.

“John! What are you doing?”

I look up to see Meisha standing over me.

Mother is nowhere to be seen. My wife looks shocked, stunned, horrified. I can’t find a word that encapsulates the whirlwind of expressions I see on her face.

My body jerks instinctually, and I reach out to push myself up. As I stare at my hand on the dark floor in front of me, I realize I’m no longer cuffed. Was I cuffed to begin with? They felt real enough. I see light red marks around my wrists, indicating something was recently around them.

I lick my lips and find a hint of the sweet nectar that had flowed from Mother. My throat and stomach clench in a deep hungering need for more. I must have more. I will do anything for more.

Meisha drops to a knee next to me. “What happened to your cheek, John?” She puts her hand lightly against my forehead as if feeling for a fever. “Were you sleepwalking?” She lets out a deep, worried sigh. “You were licking the floor when I found you.”

“I don’t know.” I blink rapidly. “I guess I must have blacked out.” The lie turns the desperation in my stomach into an agonizing, twisting knot. My wife and I don’t lie to each other. But I can’t tell her about Mother. She would never understand. Unless Mother allowed her to. It isn’t my decision to make.

“Let’s get you back to bed.” Meisha holds onto my arm as I stand up. “Were you in the kitchen? It looks like a burn on your face.”

She inspects my cheek closely, her face near mine. A flush creeps over me as I remember the smack of the crop that caused it. “I don’t know.”

“Let’s put some burn cream on there. I hope they have some in the bathroom.” She takes me by the hand and leads me through the master bedroom into the bathroom.

I stare at my face in the mirror and find quite the welt on my cheek. My left eye above the mark is slightly bruised.

Meisha rifles through the medicine cabinet. “Here we go.” She triumphantly holds a yellow tube of something up towards my line of sight. “A&D makes everything better.” She carefully dabs some on the redness on my face.

I grimace at the discomfort of being touched. A shiver runs down my spine making my arms break out in goosebumps. That isn’t going to be the last pain that Mother inflicts on me. I’m all at once scared, nervous, and excited.

“You need to get back into bed. You’ll catch a cold running around in just your skivvies.” My wife rubs my arms to warm them.

We turn to leave at the same time, but a flash of fiery eyes in the mirror catches my attention.

“Let me go pee, and I’ll be right out.”

Meisha hesitates like she’s loathe to leave me alone.

I turn to face the toilet. “Go on. Get the covers warmed up. I don’t need you to hold it for me.”

Her lips purse into a pout. “I want to do more than hold it.”

Without a thought, I roll my eyes. “I know. In the morning. I’m just tired.”

Her face droops in hurt and disappointment.

“Can I have a moment of privacy please?”

“Oh. Yeah. Of course.” She shuffles out, closing the door behind her.

I realize as soon as I’m alone that I do have to pee. As I stand there, I glance around the room feeling as if I’m being watched. I don’t see anything-anyone-and empty my bladder in peace.