Check in with how she feels about being owned.

Before you really start heading down the hill into what you want, you know what would accentuate the experience perfectly. You pat the bed next to you, and tell her, “Come over here and sit down, Mom.” She does so, not saying a word against the idea. Of course, she can’t, and you know that. Once she’s sitting down next to you, looking at you with a touch of confusion for why you’ve called her over, you really get started. “Mom, how do you feel about the fact I own you? Be honest.”

It looks like she has to think the idea over for a few seconds, before telling you, “Well, it’s quite odd, really. I know you didn’t own me before, as hard as that is for me to believe. You’re still my son, and I love you, but I’m a little sad you’re not going to let your father continue to fuck me. I know I’m yours, and that’s your decision, but I married him for a reason, you know.” The experience is so incredibly strange. Your mother is talking to you like she usually does, but at the same time she’s saying lewd things she never would disclose to her son.

This was the answer you were expecting to get from her, and you’re not disappointed by it in the slightest. The fact she misses your father’s touch actually makes what’s about to come even better. “How do you feel about the idea of me using you sexually? Regardless of the fact that you’re mine and have to do whatever I say, tell me what you feel about the idea.” You’re so hard at this point you’re sure precum is leaking into your underwear, but you don’t care.

Your mother looks annoyed at the question. “Well, like you’ve said, I wouldn’t be able to say no. But, your property or not, I’m still your mother. I don’t like the idea of my son touching me in that way.” Despite her words, your mother isn’t looking at you with any disgust. She says it all in a motherly, matter-of-fact matter, not at all like she’s responding to her son’s incestual question.

You’ve laid the groundwork for what you really want, and decide there’s no reason to hesitate any longer. “Changing the subject a little, but how often do you help dad cum every day, mom? I mean, before I started owning you.” Half of the pleasure of this is in what you’re doing to dear old dad, after all.

After thinking the question over, as casually as if you’d just asked her how often she likes to go on walks, she tells you, “Well, your father is a very sexually active man, sweetie. At least two times a day, once in the morning and once at night, but four times on weekend days.”

Armed with the information you wanted, you tell your mother, “Since you won’t be using any of that time on him, until I say otherwise you must help me cum a minimum of twice a day on weekdays, and four times a day on weekends. You can do it however you want, but of course as your owner I can request any special services I’d like.” It was more than you were expecting, but it looks like the horniness of your father actually was helping you out.

The only sign of dissatisfaction with what you said is a small frown on your mother’s face. “I suppose that makes sense.” Then she gets up from the bed and goes to close and lock the door. For a second, you don’t know why she’s doing this, but then she looks at you and says, “It’s a weekday, so I have to make you cum twice.” She starts heading closer to you, but you hold up a hand.

There’s one last aspect you want to throw in, but it’s going to push the limits of what you can do with your power. “Mom, one last thing before we do that.” She stops, and waits for you to say more. “What I’m about to say is going to affect your behavior, but you aren’t going to remember me saying it to you. You need to forget I stopped you and said any of this to you, while letting my upcoming command take effect. Got that?” She nods her head, and you let out the breath you’re holding in anticipation. “Every time you help me cum, you’re going to become more attracted to me, more devoted to me, and more excited at the idea of having sex with me.”

With the command given, you wait a second, and suddenly your mother blinks, looking confused. “Ryan, why did you stop me?” You shrug, trying to look innocent, but inside you’re celebrating. It worked. It’s the perfect recipe. You don’t want to corrupt your mother in a single instant. You want to slowly break her down, and turn her into the slut you know she can be, bit by bit. She walks over to face you, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Well, son, how did you want my help?” From the way she says it, you can tell she’s hoping for less direct contact with you if possible. Are you going to grant that request from your property, though?