Clutching the sheep in both arms, I get to my feet. From here, Mother’s body enters my field of view.

She’s naked in an otherwise empty tub.

My eyes run from her perky, full breasts down over her smooth stomach to the small patch of trimmed hair above her slit.

She returns my gaze, licks her lips, and slowly strokes one hand down her smooth flesh.

“You like watching, don’t you, John?”

If my wide eyes don’t give me away, my erection certainly does. Coherent words fail me. I mumble something and bob my head up and down in agreement.

She dips her finger inside herself before teasing her clit. Her back arches. Delightful moans escape her lips.

“When I tell you, John,” she whispers through her pleasure pants, “slice the beast’s throat.”

My arm aches, as I hold the kicking, bleating thing above her. But I persevere through the pain, knowing if I stop, so will she. I want to see it. The sight of a woman masturbating has been too limited in my life, and now I can’t get enough.

Her wails of ecstasy grow louder, more urgent, as she nears climax.

With complete assurance, I relish the view. This is just the foreplay of indulgences to come.

“Now, John.” Her voice is barely a whisper.

I catch the movement of her lips more than anything and drag the knife across the animal’s neck.

Blood pours out, covering Mother with the sticky, crimson liquid.

She shrieks as she orgasms in front of me.

As her body begins calming from the intense pleasure, Mother sets her dark eyes on me. A fire flickers within them.

“Oh, you’ve been a very good boy, John.”

My arm aches from the weight of the sheep, but red drops still seep from its body onto hers. I don’t dare lower it until she gives permission.

“A very good boy,” she continues. “And what does Mother do when she’s pleased, John?”

Blood pulses in my groin.

“Rewards them,” I whimper.

“Yes.” After a final arch of her back that accentuates and lifts her crimson breasts, making them the focal point of my vision, Mother stands. She applies gentle pressure to my wrist until I lower the animal and drop it into the blood-covered bathtub. “Let’s go experience a new pleasure together. What do you say?”

“Yes, Mother. Please.” My voice trembles. My body needs release, though I continually remind it that waiting for Mother is always worth it.

One red-stained foot after the other lifts and steps out onto the light linoleum floor. I watch the red footprints Mother leaves behind as she walks from the room.

Something inside me screams that we should clean it up, clean her off, not make a mess. I don’t remember why. Yet, if Mother isn’t worried, then I’m not either.

She saunters to the bedroom, her luscious hips swaying, her round butt cheeks calling to me, whispering reminders of the bliss I found between them.

Before she disappears from view, I unfreeze and follow.

In the bedroom is the St. Andrews Cross. It wasn’t there minutes before when I passed through, but this realization doesn’t bother me. Mother simply possesses an otherworldly magic. That much is clear to me now.

Without hesitation, I step towards the wooden device, ready to be buckled in.

“Wait, John.”

I twist around, while my eyebrows climb toward my hairline.

She stands with her hands on her thrust-forward hips. “Come drink from the source, my good little boy. On your knees. Make Mother scream.”

I fall forward with a thud and obediently crawl my way to her. My hands grab the back of her thighs and pull her towards my mouth. My tongue reaches out, searching for the nub that makes the nectar flow. I clamp on, sucking and licking, mindless of the metallic taste that intermingles with the sweetness that flows from Mother.

Every nerve ignites with a scorching satisfaction as hints of her ambrosia grace my tastebuds, coaxing me to double my efforts.

“That’s it, John. Just like that.”

I barely register her words, preferring that they be incoherent in the fulfillment of her needs. One hand releases her to dive two fingers into the wetness between her legs. The pressure sends her over the edge. Her cries of ecstasy fill my ears while liquid trickles out.

I force my tongue out further, lapping from my palm with every sweep over her clit, drinking my fill.

Time stands still. This is heaven as surely as if I’d died in my sleep. Mother is my angel. My reward. I can worship on my knees at her throne forever.

A gentle hand on my cheek distracts me. Fingers grip my chin as her hips move away from my needy mouth.

“My hungry little boy. Save some for later, John. There will be time for much more later.”

Dissatisfied yet obedient, I nod. The lust and appetite in my core for her sweet drink remain unquenched. Will I ever be truly sated?

My mission remains to do whatever it takes to receive more. Ever more.

“I promise what comes next will hold great pleasure for you, John. A touch of pain at first, but nothing like yesterday. Push through and you may find yourself weeping with joy.”

With gentle pressure on my jaw, she lifts me to my feet. Mother advances, pressing her body against me until I’m forced to take first one step and then another until my back presses to the cool wooden frame.

“Turn around, John.”

I obey, though it’s difficult. Her body remains against mine as I rotate. Her breasts press into my back as she secures one wrist and then the other. My sweaty skin cools when she leaves it to bend and fasten my ankles.

Soft hands spread my ass cheeks. Slippery fingers rub against my tight anus, spreading a fluid that my body recognizes as Mother’s nectar. Even my backside wants to drink it up.

I gasp. No one has ever played with my butt before. I’d begged… The name I was about to think eludes me. In my mind lies a distinct memory of conversing with someone about wanting to try a few kinkier things, but I don’t recall who it was, and their face escapes me now.

“Relax, John,” Mother whispers into my ear, pulling me away from the slightly disturbing lapse in memory. “This will feel so much better if you trust Mother and allow your worries to melt away.”

Wanting to be her obedient servant, I take a full breath and lean into the frame, letting the restraints hold my weight.