[Breaking the Shackles of Taboo] (01)

Breaking the Shackles of Taboo 01

A crisp slap echoed across my face. I covered my burning left cheek, tears mingling with

sweat from nervousness, dripping to the corner of my mouth—so salty. "Mom," I choked out.

My mother's face was ashen, her eyes flashing with anger. "What happened to you this semester? Don't you feel ashamed to bring home a report card

like this ?!"

Watching her wave the report card excitedly in her left hand, I felt both ashamed and furious. Yes, my grades were

terrible , but did I know why? I really wanted to tell her the truth, but I didn't dare.

"You went from being in the top three of the class to tenth from the bottom in just one semester!

What If our relatives and friends find out, your father and I will lose all face!" My mother continued her angry tirade.

The anger in my heart also surged. Why? Because I've grown up, because I've become interested in women

, because I've fallen for you—not the kind of infatuation a son has for his mother, but the kind a man has for a woman,

you know ? It's all because you're so mature and captivating, so beautiful and elegant. Every day in class, every night

before I go to sleep, your image fills my mind. How can I concentrate on my studies? Listening to her still grumbling, I finally

couldn't help but shout back, "It's all your fault!"

My mother stopped, her large eyes fixed on me, revealing confusion and bewilderment. I felt a pang

of guilt ; my earlier courage vanished without a trace. I stammered, "Um… um… it's because you

don't take care of me enough, and Dad's often not home. I… I… you all basically don't care about me. I don't want to study anymore."

As I spoke, my voice grew louder and more agitated.

"Enough!" Mom's face turned pale. "You're becoming more and more outrageous. You don't study hard and you blame

your dad and me. It seems you really need to reflect on yourself. Come with me!"

Seeing Mom's full breasts heaving, I knew she was truly angry, and I instantly understood

what punishment she was going to give me. I couldn't help but feel scared and said in a trembling voice, "Mom, Mom, I, I was wrong, please don't do this,

I don't want to, I..."

Unfortunately, my apology came too late. Mom grabbed my hand tightly. "Come here, let you reflect for an hour

before you apologize to me."

Being held by Mom's soft little hand is usually a wonderful thing, but at this moment I didn't have that thought.

I wanted to resist, but I still didn't have the courage. Actually, I'm 14 years old, about the same height as my 36-year-old, 1.65-meter-tall

mother . I believe I'm much stronger than her, but under her maternal authority,

I didn't dare to resist and obediently let her drag me to the bathroom.

"Mom, I was really wrong. I shouldn't have treated you like this. Please don't punish me like this, okay?"

I begged for mercy all the way, but to no avail.

When we got to the bathroom, Mom let go of my hand, took something from the corner of the wall, and placed it flat at my feet. "

Kneel on this!" Her voice was cold and authoritative.

It was an old washboard, yellowed and worn smooth. It had been in our house since I

could remember , accompanying me through my childhood. Whenever I made a mistake, I would kneel on it

under my mother's scolding to receive punishment. So, whenever I saw it, I felt a sense of fear. It

had been two years since I last knelt on it, and now, having finished the second year of junior high, I was being punished like this again.

"No, Mom, please forgive me," I pleaded repeatedly, but seeing her resolute eyes, I knew it was

futile. I could only slowly bend my knees and kneel down.

"Wait, take off your pants!" Mom commanded.

Yes, I almost forgot. Every time I knelt on the washboard, I had to kneel bare-legged. According to Mom,

it was to make the memory more memorable. I had no choice but to shakily take off my pants, leaving only my underwear on, and kneel on the washboard

.

After I knelt down, I looked at Mom with pitiful eyes, but she didn't look at me directly. Her eyes were facing

forward , and she said coldly, "Reflect on your actions. Come back before dinner to hear your explanation." After saying that, she picked up my

pants and turned to leave.

In that instant when she turned away, I had a strange feeling. Under the cover of her beautiful long hair,

the expression on her face was a little strange. Yes, it was a shy expression. How could this be? I

involuntarily lowered my head and found that my penis had become erect, making my shorts look like

a tent.

"Is Mom shy?" This thought kept popping into my head, and my knees, which had been kneeling, didn't ache as much anymore.

"She saw this part of me, and she's shy?"

Yes, that was definitely it, but I really needed to think about what had caused my grades to plummet during this period

.

I don't know exactly when it happened, but I suddenly developed strange feelings for the opposite sex. On my

way to school, in the classroom, I would unconsciously glance at female classmates or teachers, especially their

breasts. Whenever I saw them, my heart would race, and sometimes my penis would even start to grow

.

Later, my desire to understand women's psychology grew stronger and stronger. I wanted to know

what a woman's full breasts looked like, and that mysterious triangle area. Finally, I couldn't concentrate on the lessons anymore, and when I got home,

I would to adult websites, staring hungrily at those tempting pictures and words.

Until one day—yes, that day I'll never forget—I got out of school an hour earlier than usual. When I

got I didn't check if anyone was home and went straight to the bathroom. When I was almost at the door, I stopped.

Someone was inside; the door wasn't fully closed. Through the crack, I saw a pale figure—it was my mother. She had just finished

showering and was combing her hair in front of the mirror. And she… she was completely naked.

I held my breath. Even though I could only see her profile through the crack, I was still stunned. Her

freshly washed body radiated a soft glow, her shapely buttocks were flawlessly curved, and her long, black hair was

pulled forward by her small hands, just covering her chest, her high, full breasts faintly visible. My mother was humming

softly , completely unaware that I was home.

My mouth was incredibly dry. I really hoped she would turn around, or open the door a little wider, so I

could see more clearly. Suddenly, I accidentally bumped into the chair next to me, making a creaking sound, startling…

I saw my mother inside, and the door was quickly closed. "Who is it?" she asked loudly.

"Mom, it's me," I could only answer regretfully, looking at the blurry figure behind the glass door, feeling an indescribable sense

of regret.

"Oh, it's Xiao Kai back," my mother's voice was calm and peaceful. "Why did you get out of school early today?"

"Well, the school organized an activity today, so I got out early," I replied. "Mom, why were you

taking a shower this afternoon?"

My mother didn't answer immediately. Through the glass door, I could see that she was getting dressed. "Well, I just came from

the gym , and I sweated a lot, so I came back to take a shower."

A few minutes later, my mother opened the door and came out. She was wearing a loose nightgown, her head tilted to the side , her hands

fiddling with her long hair. As she walked, her breasts kept bumping against the nightgown, revealing two small round dots. My mother

wasn't wearing a bra? My heart beat even faster.

"Xiao Kai, why are you still standing here?" My mother asked strangely when she saw me still standing there.

"Oh, I, I," I didn't know how to answer, and quickly fled back to my room.

That night, I couldn't sleep. My mind was filled with the faint image of my mother's body, and my little brother remained hard

all night.

Thinking of this, I glanced down at my crotch; my little brother was still as hard as iron. I

whispered to myself , "Mom, I really want to hug you, touch your breasts, and your firm buttocks, so

I won't be distracted while studying."

But I could only say this wish to myself in secret, because I knew it was impossible. My mother

was mature and beautiful, a junior manager in a public institution, and very strict with me. Let alone hugging her, even when I

was little, it was difficult to be affectionate with her.

But since that day, my gaze towards her has completely changed. I often secretly

glance , and when she's about to notice, I quickly look away and pretend to be nonchalant, looking around.

The image of the woman that used to float in my mind has all been replaced by my mother's appearance and voice.

I don't know how long I knelt; my knees were numb. Several times I wanted to stand up, but

I didn't have the courage when I thought of my mother's expression. Just as I was lost in thought, my mother walked in.

"Have you figured it out?" My mother's voice was still stern.

I nodded, my voice trembling with sobs, and replied, "I understand now. This semester, I've gotten addicted to

playing games and neglected my studies. Mom, I'm sorry, I know I was wrong, sob—."

My mother's expression softened considerably, and her voice became gentler. "It's good that you know you were wrong

. Get up."

"Okay," I stood up, but my legs gave way, and I almost collapsed. In that instant, I was embraced by

a soft body. My mother said with concern, "Be careful, son, did you hurt yourself kneeling?"

I couldn't hold back my tears any longer. I cried, "Waaah, Mom, my legs are numb, I can't walk."

"Come on, let Mom help you walk out," my mother said, supporting me as I leaned against her and slowly moved forward. "

Son , Mom really doesn't want to punish you. It hurts the mother as well as the child. As long as you're obedient from now on,

how could I bear to punish you?"

"Yes, I understand, Mom. I promise I won't let you down again," I replied.

My mother was wearing a blue floral dress with flesh-colored stockings underneath. My bare thighs

brushed against hers with each step, and a surge of desire welled up inside me. A few strands of hair occasionally brushed against my face,

tickling me . I was intoxicated by the faint fragrance emanating from my mother.

That night, I tossed and turned, my mind filled with my mother's sexy and alluring figure, her beautiful face that revealed both

sternness and love . I gripped my penis tightly with both hands. "Ah, Mom, I miss you so much, I want you, let me

touch your breasts and your little hole," I whispered in a daze, and a thick stream of semen gushed

out .

As the fatigue slowly subsided, I savored the feeling of my mother supporting me that afternoon, and my penis slowly grew larger again

. "Ah, no, I'll go crazy if this continues. I must have you, Mom, I must have

your body, to properly caress your full breasts, and to thrust hard into your little hole." Thinking of the punishment I

received , an inexplicable fire rose within me again. Mom, I must possess you, conquer you, and make

you writhe and grovel beneath me.

Mom, at this age, according to erotic novels, is probably at the peak of her sexual desire, and Dad is rarely home,

so she must be very lonely. Son, my cock is big now, it can fill your emptiness. I imagined my naked mother crawling on my bed, cupping her large breasts, giving me seductive glances, then turning her back to me, showing me

her mysterious little hole, moaning and begging me to penetrate her. 　　Although I thought about it, I had absolutely no clue how to make it a reality. I didn't believe in the stories in those pornographic novels where the mother's eyes would light up and she would obediently kneel at my feet, licking my penis with insatiable hunger, just like in those novels. 　　Should I just give up like this? I wasn't willing to. What should I do? I got out of bed, took out a pen, and analyzed the various methods of incest between mother and son that I had read about. I summarized the following methods: First, drugging and raping. This method is easy to implement, and it's even easier to succeed in my current situation—it's just my mother and me at home. However, the effect is far from what I envisioned. I don't just want to play with my mother once; I want to possess her permanently, to make her my loyal sex slave. Therefore, this method is unacceptable. Second, rape. This is even more unacceptable. Even if my mother doesn't report me, our relationship will be completely destroyed. That's even more unacceptable. Thirdly, there's the threat. This method seems plausible, but it requires a prerequisite: catching Mom in the act of cheating, and doing it perfectly. Mom doesn't seem like the type to cheat at all, making this plan too difficult. The last method is seduction, but this is the riskiest; it could easily backfire. 　　Looking at what I'd written on the paper, I pondered deeply. That's it! While the scenarios in erotic novels are fictional, combining these methods to win over Mom might actually work. 　　A smile crept across my face, as if I saw the light of victory. Then I lowered my head and frantically wrote —my plan, my method. As long as I took it one step at a time, and the time was right, I didn't believe I wouldn't succeed.

"Come on, Mom, I want you, I want to conquer you, I want you to be my captive!" I

whispered .

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[Breaking the Shackles of Taboo] (01)

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