On Mommy's lap

It is both extremely arousing and extremely degrading, as you slowly approach Mrs. Tyler. You signed up for sexual indulgence and didn't expect to be dominated in this way. Everything you heard about this town described the women as extremely aggressive, not shy of using **** to take what they want and caring little about the men they use. You were prepared for threats, for traps.
However Mrs. Tyler hasn't **** you to do anything. She has only given you the option to humiliate yourself, trusting her devilish body, her syrup-sweet smile and your aching cock to drive you towards her.

Even now as you make your way towards her, she simply sits there with open body language and an encouraging expression. Her fake tits wobble with every little breath, and with the sun coming in through the large windows behind her the sun dress is practically practically see-through; present her delicious silhouette.

You come to a stop in front of her, dick straining against your jeans. Everyone else in the room is silent and you realize that this is no only a powerplay on you, but all the other women as they watch you choose to submit to her. Mrs. Tyler's eyes flit down to your hard-on, then back to your face with an indulgent look.

"Looks like there is something you want to ask me.." she says patiently.

"Can I.." you're pretty sure you're blushing furiously as you stumble through the request, ".. sit on your lap.."

She raises a single expectant eyebrow.

"..Mommy?"

"Of course, my good boy." She says with clear delight in her voice. As you go to sit on her lap, you feel her hands on your body adjusting your position until your half sitting, half lying across her body. Your torso is leaning against the arm rest of the chaise lounge, your lower body in her lap. One of her hands is gently caressing your hair, the other is running up and down your thigh. There is a loving expression on her face as she pets you, that stands in stark contrast to the maddening weight of her tits against your **** cock.

"Ahem, before we begin.." Mrs. Tyler addresses the room, then once more turning her attention back to you. You watch in real time as her face morphs from a graceful host to an overindulgent smile.

"Is my good, little boy feeling a teeny tiny bit pent up?" she asks, running her fingertip in circles on the tent in your pants, "is his sweet little balls full of nasty white cum for Mommy?"

"Yes.. Mommy." You reply, the name coming easier every time.

"Now we can't have that, can't we? Do you need Mommy to help make it better?"

"Yes, Mommy."

Her hand rests softly on top of your hard-on. You eagerly push up against her, but Mrs. Tyler doesn't give you any resistance to rub against.

"I want you to use yours words, sweetie." She says, and underneath the gentle, loving gaze you see a flash of sadism, "..Tell Mommy how you need her to help you."