My mother comes back later, like I knew she would. This sort of behavior doesn't go away unpunished.
"You know I can't just let you be," she explains, her expression stoic as she regards me.
I nod.
"I don't want to do this, but I need to," she continues, as if it's such a hardship for her to punish me. She purses her lips, looking me up and down.
"Your punishment will be to not move and be silent." I frown at the odd punishment, but don't say anything. To me it sounds rather easy.
She takes me to her room and to her walk through closet. Opening the door, she thrusts me inside, telling me.
"Hands on your knees, eyes forward, and don't you dare move or make a sound." I comply, folding my legs under me and placing my palms on my knees.
Mother gives me a smirk of approval before pushing the door behind her. She doesn't close it all the way, and there's a small space that allows for perfect visibility inside the room.
I wonder how long I'm supposed to sit here. Usually her punishments are corporeal. This is the first time she's made me do something like this.
I hear the entrance door to the room and I see father come in. He sighs deeply and starts taking off his clothes. My mother is quick to offer him a shoulder massage, and as my father sits down on the bed, she starts kneading his flesh.
I don't think I'm supposed to see this.
But the scene quickly changes as mother crawls on her knees in front of father, and she puts her mouth on his penis.
My first instinct is to look away, but then I remember her words.
Eyes forward.
Dreading another beating, I continue watching.
Soon mother is on her hands and knees and father is pumping into her from behind, his breaths uneven as he grunts some bad words. Mother's eyes are focused on me the whole time. Loud moans escape her mouth as she urges father to go faster, harder. The sound of a slap against mother's flesh makes me flinch, but she keeps on staring at me, her hand between her legs.
"I'm coming! Harder!" She yells, her body trembling all over. Still, her gaze does not waver from me.
This continues for the next hour. No matter what father does to her, her eyes do not move from me.
She's making sure I'm not looking away.
When it's finally over and father leaves the room, mother comes to me, still naked, and opens the door.
"Good boy," She stoops down on her knees in front of me, her breasts hanging low and swinging into my face. She leans into me to kiss my face, her lips grazing my mouth.
"Now you can go play," she says, ushering me out of the room. It hurts when I get up, my feet almost paralyzed from sitting in the same position for too long. But I'm just too happy to be out of there, so I limp out.
It's late at night when the first visit happens. I'm in my bed, sleeping, when I'm startled by the rustling of sheets, the bed dipping low to accommodate another person. I keep my eyes closed, convinced it's a dream.
There's no such things as monsters, right? I'm too old to believe in that.
Keeping myself still, I feel a breath on my cheek as a hand starts trailing down my arm. I crack one eye open, and even in the shadows of the night I can recognize my mother's profile. She looks enthralled as she caresses my skin. Her fingers settle on my hand and she tugs it softly towards her.
She molds her fingers to mine, her palm resting on top of my hand as she reaches towards her leg. She drags my hand high up her thigh, pressing my fingers into her flesh. I feel wetness coating the tips of my fingers, and she continues to use my hand, moving it into circles and getting it ever wetter.
Her breathing catches in her throat as the movements gain speed.
I try not to recoil in disgust, especially when she takes my whole hand and sticks it in a tight opening. Hot walls surround my skin, and she moves it in and out of her body.
I'm silent, willing myself to disregard what's happening, hoping it's all a bad dream.
It all stops only when she releases a semi-loud gasp, and I feel like my fingers are being swallowed whole by something.
"Good boy," she comes closer to my face, her mouth close to my ear. "Soon," is all she says before she's gone.
Sometime later, I open my eyes to find myself alone in the room. There's no evidence of her ever being there, except of a strong odor coming from my fingers.
I feel physically sick, and even in my young mind, I know this is wrong.
Everything is wrong.
"ISN'T THIS PRETTY? Mamma made it especially for me. No other girl has one like it." Lina preens around in her new dress, twirling in front of me with a huge smile on her face.
I, too, force a smile, even though the mention of mother is enough to make me want to barf.
"You look like a princess, Lina," I compliment her and she basks in the attention, taking me by the hand to show me her doll collection. I listen carefully, and when she asks me to play with her, I don't have the heart to deny her.
We spend the entire day with her dolls, putting them through different scenarios. While the activity itself is not for me, the sight of Lina smiling so heartily is the only thing that matters — because she's the only one that can make me happy.
It's late at night that I dread what's coming. When I close my eyes and pretend I'm asleep.
Mother's visits aren't daily. I've even noticed that she doesn't have a certain pattern, her arrivals whimsical. I tried to make sense of them, to prepare myself. But it always ends up taking me by surprise.
Like tonight.
For the first time this week, she comes, fitting her body close to me, her hot breath in my ear. All this time and my acting's still strong. She still thinks I'm deep asleep, and so she's free to do whatever she wants with my body.
Most times she just borrows my fingers, using them to stroke herself to what I've come to know as climax. She whispers words as she pants, my fingers deep inside her body, that only I can give her what she craves, that only with my touch she can experience heaven.
But there's also times when she does more.
Like tonight.
I can feel it in the way her hands move lower, past the waistband of my pajama bottoms and inside my underwear. She wraps her hand around my penis, her touch soft yet invasive, her caresses not unpleasant yet revolting.
I don't know what she means to achieve by this. Her fingers wrap themselves around my flesh, the thumb circling the head of my penis. She keeps on jerking her hand up and down, and the movements make it hard for me to pretend I'm asleep.
"Come my little boy," her voice is melodiously low, "let me make you feel good, Enzo," her words, just like her actions, are foreign to me.
Because no matter what she does to me, it never feels good.
AGE TWELVE,
SOME PEOPLE GROW UP FEARING the monsters under the bed. I grew up fearing the one in my house.
It's hard to believe mother doesn't realize I'm awake the whole time she's there... touching me. But if she did she never let on.
At night she was one person, but during the day she was a completely different one. In the dark I was the object who gave her pleasure, while during daylight I was the handsome son she could proudly show off to the world.
But something started changing.
I'd see it in the slight narrow of her eyes as someone would stare at me or praise me too much; or the way she'd curse the girls from my school who dared give me attention.
I was meant to be hers — only hers.
"Take my hand, Lina," I stretch my hand in front of her as we get out of the car.
My older sister, Romina, is getting married today and the entire family is attending it.
I hold on to Lina and we make our way inside the venue. After the church ceremony, the celebration is to continue with more food and drink. But considering how many strangers are around, I'm not about to let Lina alone even for one moment.
I, better than anyone, know what the adults are capable of, and I'd rather die
than have the same thing happen to my little sister.
She gives me a smile and we continue inside, taking our designated seats.
Romina looks incredibly happy as she gazes at her husband, Valentino. While theirs is an arranged marriage, they'd developed feelings for one another during their courtship. Romina would often joke that it had been love at first sight. But as I look at their interactions, how Valentino is twirling her on the dance floor, their love feels very real indeed.
"You'll see when you find someone who lights up your entire world," she'd gush, trying to explain the feelings that Valentino awoke in her.
I'd just nodded, going along with her since the subject was clearly dear to her heart. I didn't want to tell her that I don't think something like that would ever happen to me. Not when all I feel is disgust when I think about a woman touching me.
"You got chocolate on your chin, silly," I glance down at Lina. She puts down the cake, frowning as she tries to wipe her face.
"Let me," I say as I grab a napkin and gently dab at her skin. My sister is the only exception to the rule. There's no one more pure and innocent in this world than my sweet Lina, and as she gazes up at me, her eyes full of love, I can't help but feel my heart burst in my chest.
I'd do anything to make sure she never knows about the monsters of the world.
It's a vow I made to myself a long time ago. I'd protect her to my dying breath.
"Can I sit here?" I turn my head to see another girl pointing towards the chair next to us. She's around my age, maybe a couple years younger.
"Sure!" Catalina exclaims, a smile stretching across her face. "You're so pretty," Lina compliments her.
"What's your name?" She plants herself in front of the newcomer.
"I'm Gianna," the girl says, taking the seat next to me.
"I'm Catalina and this is my brother Enzo," Lina proudly proclaims. I give her a tight smile, but I don't say anything. Lina loves to make new friends, and while I'd never stop her from socializing, it's not exactly high on my priority list. Most of the times I'm grateful when people don't notice me.
"Nice to meet you," Gianna says, and her eyes jump to me immediately. I try not to react to her overt perusal, but she's not being very shy about it. Not even when she purposefully pulls her chair closer to mine and tries to engage me in conversation.
I sigh, giving her curt answers and hoping she'd take the hint and leave us alone. Lina, on the other hand, keeps on asking her questions and leading the conversation.
"What?" Gianna jumps out of her seat suddenly, the front of her dress soaked. I look up to see mother standing next to her, an insidious smile painted on her face.
"Oh dear, I must have tripped," she schools her tone to seem apologetic, but I recognize the fakeness of it.
Gianna seems distraught, and she runs off in search of her parents.
"Mamma," Lina jumps in mother's arms, giving her a tight hug.
I look at them both, dreading the situation I find myself in. I know mother would never do anything to Lina — I've made sure of it. But in Lina's eyes our mother is the epitome of perfection, and her adoration is written in her gaze every time she looks at her. Mother knows this, and she subtly uses it to her advantage to make sure I'm pliant.
Because I'd never open my mouth with accusations when it would cause heartache to my little sister.
The way her face contorts, a mix of triumph and satisfaction, makes it clear that she's hit the mark with her so-called accident.
The rest of the celebration passes in a blur as I try to fend off other attempts at socialization.
Back at the house, I retire to my room. Since father is at home today, I don't think mother will come. Maybe I'll get a good night's sleep.
I let myself drift off, but even today luck isn't on my side.
I'm awoken by a feeling of moisture all around my dick. I'm momentarily startled, and as I open one eye, I see mother between my knees, her head bobbing up and down my dick. I clench my hands into fists, trying to keep myself from reacting — from kicking her off me. But shame envelops me as I realize that for the first time, I'm hard, and the way she strokes my flesh or how she pushes me so deep in her mouth doesn't feel that bad.
I turn my head to the side, squeezing my eyes and telling myself this is all a bad dream.
It's not real!
She continues to apply suction, her tongue tickling the sensitive area. My muscles tense and I feel a tingling down my spine. I don't know what happens as my mind blanks and an intense feeling overtakes my entire body.
Spurts of something come out of my penis, right into mother's waiting mouth as she keeps on sucking.
A lone tear makes its way down my cheek as I realize the enormity of what just happened... and my entire being fills with self-loathing.
Why? Why is she doing this to me?
It's not the first time I've asked myself the same question. Night after night, she'd just whisper in my ear that she'd make me feel good as she'd work her hands around my body.
But it's only today that I understand what her brand of good demands — the price of my soul.
I'm almost paralyzed as I wait for her to finish whatever she's doing. I keep my eyes closed and I envision all the ways I would make her suffer — destroy her so she'd never come near me again.
And yet I know that it can never come to pass... and that tomorrow this will happen again.
As time goes by, it gets harder and harder to put on a happy face and pretend I'm normal. Even my school friends abandoned me when they realized I'd become too closed off. Not that I'd cared too much since it meant less effort from my part — less pretending.
I even stopped going out of the house if it wasn't completely necessary, because having a pretty face means that people will swarm around me with fake intentions.
My only source of solace is my little sister — the only one that still has the power to make me happy.
But as she grows... I have to wonder if she too will start looking at me differently... less brotherly. Mother's already done it, what's to stop her from doing the same?
The nights continue as they have before, but soon, I find myself better at controlling my body, at not letting her win. At some point, I manage to hold off my ejaculation, and no matter how much mother tries to coax a reaction out of me, how much she tries to make me feel good, it doesn't work anymore.
But while I hoped this would deter her, it only gave her other ideas.
That's what I realized when one night, I found myself pinned to the bed, with mother's naked body straddling my lower half.
I don't move as I watch her hands work my dick, my whole attention concentrated on not showing any weakness, on not giving her what she craves.
But this time, instead of trying to rouse me with her mouth, she changes tactics. She grinds her already wet genitals all over me, the sensation sickening. But no matter how much she tries to get me to react, my dick is still limp.
Just as I think she's going to give up and leave, she whispers those dreaded words again.
"I'll make you feel good, Enzo. Just this time," she says as she strokes me, her fingers wrapping around my flaccid shaft and guiding it towards her entrance.
It's like my entire brain goes off with trigger warnings, the knowledge of what's about to happen dawning on me.
For the first time, I stop pretending.
She's struggling to fit me into her opening when I rouse off the bed, my hands shoving at her shoulders and pushing her off me. My eyes go wide as I see her fully for the first time, naked on the floor, her expression flabbergasted.
"Enzo, honey..." she stammers, "it's not what it seems," I'm staring at her in horror, at the act that was about to happen just now.
"Out," my voice is small, almost trembly, but as disgust fills me and threatens to spill over, I gain the courage to command her, "get out!"
She scrambles back, picking up her discarded dress before leaving the room.
And I'm le
ft staring at the shadows on the wall...
"HOW LONG ARE YOU GOING to mope around on my couch, mon cher?" Maman Margot pulls open the blinds and sunlight assaults my sensitive eyes.
How long has it been since I arrived at her place? Two days? Three? I've spent the entire time at the bottom of a bottle so I haven't been keeping track.
"Maman, please," I groan, shielding my eyes with the back of my hand.
"Enzo, you know I love you mon fils, but you need to go. I haven't seen Alfredo in a couple of days, and it's all because you've laid siege to my boudoir. I get you're frustrated since," she narrows her eyes at me, regarding me pitifully, "you're not getting any, but now you're making sure I'm not getting any either."
"Water," I croak, and maman just shakes her head, tossing me a bottle of water and some ibuprofen.
"At first I let you be since I thought this was all about ta soeur, but it's not just that, is it?"
Taking a seat across from me, she pours some vodka into her cup and brings it to her lips. Maman's always started her day with a rejuvenating dose of vodka, but this time, I find the smell of alcohol repulsive, my nose scrunching up in disgust.
Maybe because I've been drowning in it.
I'm silent for a few seconds, not knowing what to tell her... how much to tell her.
"I thought things were going well with your wife." She takes another sip, her eyes watching me intently.
"It's... complicated."
"Complicated my ass, Enzo!" Maman rolls her eyes at me, emptying the cup and slamming it down on the table with resounding force. "What did you do? Out with it!"
"I made her hate me." I admit with a sigh, and the memory of Allegra on the ground, her big eyes looking at me with such disappointment makes my heart squeeze painfully in my chest.
I never wanted her hate. Yet it seems I'm bound to have it if I want her to be happy... safe...
"Why on earth would you do that? Mon Dieu, Enzo!" She looks at me horrified, and her expression echoes how I feel inside.
I'd gotten so used being with Allegra... talking to her, touching her.
"I froze up..." I admit, lowering my gaze. "She said something that reminded me of..." I trail off, but maman picks up on it immediately.
Morally Decadent (Morally Questionable Book 3) Page 20
