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Chapter 10 Part 2: Complete Surrender
She gripped the table edge until her nails rasped wood; her bow-body arched, trembling, convulsing.
With one thrust, she climaxed soul shorn from her body.
"Fuck! Mom… you're scorching… sucking… sucking your son gonna cum!" The tight, hot, many-mouthed channel and the grinder-clench of her climax blew his scalp numb, vision blacked.
He growled and drove into a frenzy.
Each stroke ripped back to loud, wet "plip"s then slammed forward like a ram with all his might.
The glans battered the softest, most sensitive center without fail.
Each full-seat crash rang "pa-pa" with the table's protesting creak a mad, degraded symphony for a rainy night.
Wang Li was lost to the tsunami of pleasure in her son's conquest.
Her legs locked his waist like the lewdest vine; her hips thrust to meet the ruthless spearing.
Her hands clawed his sweat-slick, corded back, leaving bloody tracks.
Her mouth poured high, meaningless cries pain braided with bliss:
"Ah! Ah! Son! So deep… to… to Mommy's innermost… ah… so full… you'll… you'll split me… harder… harder fuck your mom… wreck Mommy's… slutty pussy… ah… Mommy… I'm dying… my son's… fucking me to death… ah !!!"
Her filth drugged him to madness.
He bent to seal her wanton mouth again; her cries turned to hotter whimpers.
His pace and force climbed; each stroke seemed to nail her to the table.
Flesh slaps, wet squelches, rough breaths, smothered moans, the table's groans woven into an image of utter incestuous ruin.
At last, his frenzy peaked; his roar was a dying beast's; his body drew taut scalding jets blasted unreserved into her depths.
The impact and violent throbbing triggered another blanking peak in her; she clung to him, nails buried; her body convulsed with shocks as her core milked greedily the life his body poured.
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Warm water poured from the showerhead; steam filled the small bathroom, fogging the mirror and blurring lines that should have been clear.
Chen Fang stood naked beneath the water; it slid over well-kept skin but could not rinse bone-deep exhaustion and a numb resignation.
In her hands, a bath sponge; she carefully, mechanically scrubbed another naked, young, powerful body before her her son, Xiaoyu.
Xiaoyu's eyes were closed; head tilted back; the stream washed his chiseled face and firm chest.
His arms were spread, palms on the tiled wall relaxed, even enjoying.
But she knew the pose masked absolute control.
Since that humiliating "bargain" since she knelt and served him with her mouth their relationship had warped beyond repair.
Here, in steam and closeness, she was no longer mother only a lowly attendant to meet his every need.
She dared not linger her gaze on his heaved chest or blocky abs much less look down, where even soft, that symbol of his absolute power and her endless shame loomed.
She forced concentration onto the sponge and foam, as if this were only routine help.
Yet each accidental brush on warm skin, feeling the young body's latent force and aggression, pinched her heart and stirred a flitting, loathsome quiver in her depths.
It was not desire more a weak animal's reflex to absolute dominion.
What am I doing? a cold voice asked.
I am washing my son and about to do worse. The thought coiled cold around her heart.
Another voice crushed it: This is your only choice. You owe him. This "peace" was bought with your body. You must do it until… until he is satisfied. Numb persuasion.
She stopped thinking of "mother" and cast herself as a soulless tool to finish a task.
Only thus could she keep a surface calm in suffocating shame only thus could she keep the family's tottering shell.
"Wash down there too." Xiaoyu's low voice broke the water's hush. He didn't open his eyes. The tone was flat, the order absolute.
She jolted; the sponge almost fell.
So it came.
She drew a breath laden with steam and despair.
Slowly she knelt; warm water beat her head and shoulders.
Her gaze fell between his legs.
During her descent, it had risen visibly fearsome and engorged, veined broadcasting male heat and… silent mockery.
She shut her eyes as if to block reality.
"Look at me, Mom." His cold voice cut through, stressing "Mom" rich with sarcasm and control.
She trembled hard but surrendered slowly opening her eyes.
Her focus fixed on the symbol of incest and ruin.
Her stomach heaved; bile rose; she forced it down.
No vomiting… no protest… She reached not for the sponge but to wrap her hand around that burning, hard, pulsing weapon.
The contact made her shiver.
The size, the iron, the heat reminders of what she must do.
She forced a "task" calm washing her son.
She stroked awkwardly up and down trying to "clean."
Water flowed over her hand and the shaft with delicate sounds.
Xiaoyu grunted in pleasure, leaning back to the wall enjoying her clumsy service.
He looked down at her pale, humiliated face in the steam her shut eyes, trembling lashes, the callused hand working him an ethic-defying sense of absolute control and conquest thrilled him.
This was stronger than simple lust he was conquering and possessing his mother, body and soul.
"Use your mouth." He ordered, curt voice hoarse with contained fire and imperious will.
She froze.
So it could not be avoided.
Resigned, she slowly lifted her head and opened her eyes.
The tenderness once in them was dead; in its place, stagnant despair and hollow submission.
She met his commanding gaze, then looked at the angry, jutting head.
No hesitation. No struggle.
She parted her lips; with sacrificial, near-reverent abasement, she took the large, purple head salty and lathered with soap into her warm mouth.
"Mm…" The invasive feel and taste made her body shake she whimpered.
Humiliating tears welled, sliding with the water.
A soul-obliterating chill seized her.
But she moved awkwardly, gingerly mouthing and licking the corona, mimicking remembered filth.
Xiaoyu sucked a breath his mother's warm, wet, tight wrap, her clumsy but utterly compliant suction outstripped his imaginings.
A taboo, annihilating pleasure surged like a high-voltage blast.
He groaned, palming her wet head as his hips began to thrust driving deeper into the soft heat.
"Yes… like that… deeper… tongue… lick below…" He panted, unable to mask the rising excitement basking in the twisted ecstasy of maternal service.
He looked down at the tear-streaked, empty-eyed face forced to work him ethic-defying dominance and possessiveness thrilled him.
His strokes grew longer and faster; the thick shaft banged her throat, triggering gagging.
She bore it mechanically.
She blanked her mind, focusing on "technique" how to please him, how to finish this torture faster.
She even tried relaxing her throat to let it in deeper.
Each deepthroat's suffocation brought a near-death illusion like release.
Her mouth was stuffed; drool streamed, mixing with tears and bathwater.
Her soul seemed to drift leaving a husk performing a dirty ritual to preserve a false peace.
His breaths roughened; his rhythm went wild. He pressed her head hard to his belly driving into her throat.
"Uhh… Mom… I'm… gonna cum… open… swallow it all!" he snarled, body drawn to the limit scalding, thick jets blasted in pulses into her gaping throat.
"Mm… gulp…" She choked and coughed, body trying to struggle but he held her fast.
Forced to swallow her son's essence, salty and hot as lava burned her esophagus and her numb soul.
Humiliating tears poured.
At last he growled in sated relief and let go; withdrawing the softened shaft from her mouth, he left Chen Fang boneless on the slick tile racked by coughs and dry heaves.
Curled on the floor, the water coursed over her naked body beaded with water and semen traces and over the filth of tears and saliva on her face.
Standing in the spray, Xiaoyu looked down at the broken doll by his feet his chest full of twisted satisfaction.
He bent, voice lazy and absolute after sex:
"Wash up. Then… go back to your room."
He turned off the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist, and left without a glance leaving Chen Fang alone to shiver in the cold steam and colder despair.
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