He sees how far he can go

Callum took the cup. The ceramic was warm against his palms. He looked up at his once-strict mother showering him with affection, looking at him like he was the centre of the universe. The old Margot would have told him to get his own damn coffee. This one stood there waiting, hands folded in front of her, the short dress riding a little higher on her thighs because of the way she was standing.

“Yeah you really love me now, don’t you bitch?” Callum said, mocking her predicament.

Margot just smiled in response. The eerie grin never wavered.

“Yes son! Is there something else I can do for you?”

Callum was still very angry at his mother. Years of cold orders, of being told he wasn’t enough, of having to call her Miss Drake in his own house, all of it was still sitting under his skin. Her unnaturally sweet demeanour wasn’t helping things. If anything it made the anger sharper. He set the coffee cup down on the desk hard enough that a little liquid sloshed over the rim.

“You dumb bitch, why don’t you bend over this table so I can fuck your stupid fat ass!”

He said it aggressively, expecting some flicker of the old Margot to surface. Instead she beamed at him like he had just given her the best news of the day.

“As you wish, son!”

She swept her hand across the table on the side she stood at. Important documents, contracts, reports, the whole stack of papers she had been working on, went flying to the floor in a messy scatter. She didn’t even glance at them. She bent over the table, the short red dress riding up immediately and used both hands to lift the hem higher. The white pantyhose stretched tight over the thick curve of her ass. The material was smooth and slightly shiny under the office lights. She planted her feet a little wider, heels clicking on the floor, and waited.

Callum wasted no time. He got up from the chair. The remote went onto the desk beside the coffee cup. He stepped in close behind her and rubbed one hand on the pantyhosed ass in front of him. The nylon was warm from her skin. The flesh underneath was firm and heavy, the same ass that had filled out every tailored skirt she owned. He grabbed a handful of the pantyhose near her asshole and tore. The material gave with a soft ripping sound. A hole opened up, exposing the pale skin of her crack and the tight pucker of her asshole. He tore a little wider, making space.

Then he roughly spanked her ass. The sound was sharp in the quiet office. The thick cheek jiggled under the impact, the pantyhose doing nothing to cushion the blow. He hit her again, harder.

Much to his disappointment his mother only giggled in response.

“My my, you’re really good at this, baby!”

She looked back at him over her shoulder with fuck-me eyes. The thick makeup and the bright red lips made the expression even more obscene. Her updo stayed perfectly in place. The smile was still there, only now it looked hungry.

Despite the absolute dish in front of him, Callum was absolutely disappointed. This wasn’t as satisfying as he thought it would be. He kept one hand on the warm curve of her ass and tried to figure out why the anger wasn’t draining the way it should have. He had the woman who had spent years grinding him down bent over her own desk with her pantyhose torn open. She was offering herself without a single protest. And it still felt empty.

He wondered why. Then he looked into his mother’s eyes once again and realised it at once. Even though this woman had his mother’s body, she wasn’t his mother. Only someone wearing her face. The mind that had built the company, the mind that had looked at him with cold disappointment every single day, was gone. What fun would it be to torment someone who didn’t realise they were being tormented? There was no resistance to break. No pride to crush. Just an empty, smiling doll that would thank him for whatever he did to her.

Callum’s hand stilled on her ass. The disappointment sat in his gut, mixed with the leftover arousal of looking at her bent over like that. He knew what he had to do.