She splashed a little more of the harsh liquer into her glass. She had told herself that she would only have two drinks tonight, but it just didn't have the kick it used to. Maybe she was just getting used to it too much. Whatever. It wasn't going to be enough. She was going to need something more, if she wanted to get to sleep tonight. She needed to get fucked, is what she needed. A good filling and pounding would make her sleep. Smiling slightly, she stood up from the kitchen table. Her tail began to gently wag, as she began to unbutton her blouse. Her son Mark was in the front room, watching some adventure story on the telly. She bent over him, and leaned close to nuzzle his ear. When he turned to look at her, she raised her free hand to his head, and pulled his muzzle into her bosom. His hands lightly gripped her thighs, and slid upward against the lay of the fur, pushing the hem of her skirt as they rose. When his hands reached her panties, he lifted his head from her front enough to ask: "One of those nights, is it?" "Are you going to be a good boy, and take care of your mother?" "I suppose so," he replied, turning his head and rubbing his cheek in the valley between her boobs. "But this time, let's do something a bit different." He leaned back and gripped her hips to push her away. "First, I want to watch you get undressed." She stood up, took a quick sip of her drink, and set the glass on the occational table. She rolled her hips, doing a 'runway' walk to the telly, and turned it off. If he wanted a show, then why not? Turning to face him, she cocked her hip to one side, and tilted her head to the other. She grabbed her skirt, and pulled it up, slowly, until it almost exposed her panties; paused and let the fabric fall again. She threw her hip to the other side, grabbed her blouse at the waist and untucked it. She rolled her hips again, as she took a step forward and quickly released the last three buttons. A half turn to the right, and let the blouse fall off her right shoulder, while covering herself with the left half of the fabric. Then a turn to the left, and shake the left sleeve completely off, while halfway covering herself with the right side. Face him, let the right sleeve slip off, and lift it in front of her; then let it fall to the floor. She shook her boobs at him. Turn left to a profile, lean over a little, and reach around back to unhook her bra. Grin at him, while shaking the shoulder straps off. Hold the cups in place with her left hand, while facing him, and shake her boobs at him again. Turn her back to him, take off the bra, turn enough to smile at him over her shoulder, and lift the bra to the side before letting it fall to the floor. Spin to face him, lift her hands to her boobs, and use her index fingers to caress her nipples, which promptly swelled with arousal. Again she grabbed her skirt and lifted the hem until it almost, but not quite exposed her panties; then let it fall again. She leaned over slightly toward him, and reached around to the buttons over her tail, which promptly gave way. She held the waist band in back with her left hand, while her right reached down to grab the skirt hem, and pull it up to the panties. This time, her hand gripped between her legs and she blatently rubbed herself several times. Mercy, but she was getting seiously aroused. Beginning to feel a bit impatient with the game, she grabbed her skirt at the hips, and pushed it down to the floor. She stepped toward him, and bent over. "Like what you see?" "Very much," he replied. He leaned forward, and nuzzled her neck. "Good," she said, and reached for his shirt. "Uhp, wait a minute." He put his hands on her hips and pushed her back. "Now, I want you show me how much you want it." His hands fell to his trousers, which he had already unbottoned, and he pulled out his erect member. She smiled and reached for it. But, he caught her hands and stopped her. Her eyebrows went up in surprise. "With your mouth" He'd never been this assertive before, and she felt slightly taken aback by it. In the past she'd always treated oral as a sometime, special thing. Her first impulse was to resist. But, she was very aroused. Aroused enough to allow him to take control that way? Well, yes. In fact, she realized to her own surprise, she rather liked it. She dropped to her knees and took his member in her muzzle. She licked and caressed and stroked the thing like it was a big hard candy. After a few minutes of that, his hand fell onto her head, and began to stroke her mane; which she took as a sign that he was enjoying it. A few minutes more, and she began to wonder how long he meant to keep at it. Did he intend to spew in her mouth? So, she stopped and lifted her head. "And what about me?" "Oh, I intend to tongue you as much as you can take. But! We are going to do something new." He pushed her back, and stood up. It waved his erection in her face, and she almost moved to take it back in her mouth. When she didn't, he stepped around her, and started walking toward the bedrooms. "Wait there. I'll be right back." He skinned his shirt over his head as he passed out of sight. He had broad shoulders and a narrow waist, and was a good looking specimen of manhood. This new Mark was very unexpected. She reached for her glass, and gulped the remaining liquer. If she allowed him to take control this way, it would certainly change the parent/child dynamic. But then, they had been incestuous for - what? - three years now? They hardly had a normal relationship. Did she really want Mark to show this dominant side in their sex? It was exciting. Arousing. But would she be able to get control back afterward? Did she want to? She was still sitting on the floor, undecided, when he returned. Naked. Carrying rope. First she was pleased to see his erection waving in front of him. Second she wondered where he had acquired the rope. Then, she wondered what he intended to do with it. As he dropped the rope on the occational table, she said: "Mark, I don't think I want to -" He grabbed a pre-cut short piece out, and stepped beside her. "Do you think you have any choice?" Then, he grabbed her wrists and pulled them around to her back. "Mark! No!" But her effort to pull her hands away accomplished exactly nothing. He was that much stronger than she, that he was able to wrap the cord around her wrists and tie it, and she couldn't stop him. "Please, Mark -" "'Please'? That's a funny word coming from you," he snarled. "I was thirteen years old when you drunkenly raped me the first time. Did you say: 'please'?" "Mark, I -" He grabbed her under one arm, and lifted, pulling her to her feet. "Do you have any idea what a mess you've made of me? What you've done to my childhood? Have you failed to notice how much trouble I have making friends? How difficult it is for me to interact with the teachers at school?" She had an epiphany. No, she hadn't noticed his problems. It had never occured to her. Ever since her husband left her, she'd been absorbed by her own problems, her own concerns. Mark had always, just sort of, been there. In her life but not really a part of it. She suddenly realized that she had been a terrible parent. A drunken, lewd, abusive parent. Her tail tried to curl down between her legs, and her ears fell. "Oh, Mark!" "Well," he continued, "something that was said in class triggered something in me. I have spent hours in the library reading up on it." He grabbed her muzzle, and turned her face so he could look her in the eyes. "Do you realize that I could have you arrested and sent away for years, for the abuse I've suffered at your hands?" She began to pant, as the sudden flood of anquish brought tears to her eyes. He released her and bent over to pick up the remaining rope from the table. "But I won't do that. I can't do that to you. I don't want to get sent off to some home. Whatever." The rope was doubled over in the middle. He turned the doubled end back on itself to create a loop. Then, lifted that loop to her head. "Instead, I think, a little at home suffering for you." He slipped the loop over her mane and down around her neck, then slid it snug to her pelt. "A little retribution for what I've suffered at your hands?" Mark flexed his knees, grabbed her around the thighs just under her buttocks, and with a grunt, lifted her up to stand on the occasional table. She kicked her drink glass and it skittered away to fall on the floor. Then, he stepped up onto the table, beside her. He took the free ends of the rope, and tossed it over the decorative rafter. After pulling out most of the slack between her neck and the rafter, he wrapped it over two more times, then tucked the free end between the wraps and the rafter. He stepped down to the floor. Her head felt unnaturally empty, like a balloon, but her stomach was knotted with fear. Oh, this is what they meant when they said someone felt 'light headed.' Did Mark intend to -? "Now, here's what we're going to do. I am going to give you the tongueing I promised. But! I want you to hang yourself when you orgasm." She heard herself whimper, and blinked away the tears so that she could see him. He couldn't be serious, could he? Did he want her to die? "If you orgasm but don't step off, well, I'll push you off, and say goodbye. If you step off, but aren't climaxing, you'll stay there until you do. If you do. You must hang and orgasm at the same time. If you do it correctly, I might - I just might let you down." Only might? What did he want from her? "M-Mark, I -" Ignoring her, he stepped forward and roughly pulled her panties down around her knees, then shoved his muzzle into her crotch. The arousal she had felt earlier came back with a rush. Her awareness sank to her loins as his tongue slid wetly over her labia. The sudden shift in her emotions caused her to gasp. Oh, but, he was good with his tongue. He licked and lapped at her loose outer lips, and poked and proded at her inner lips. His hands firmly gripped the fatty muscle of her buttocks, pulling just enough to keep his tongue where it would do the most good. And it was good. It was sooo good! It was so good that almost forgot the rope around her neck, almost forgot her hands tied behind her back. Her head tilted back, and she groaned at the cieling. Mercy, his dominating her was so sexy. His tongue was so good on her sex. And, she was so eager, so desperate for an orgasm. The fire in her belly started to flare up. She was going to climax. She could feel the orgasm happening. But, he wanted her to - How could she - The fire exploded in her hips and in her mind. With a cry she threw herself forward. She felt the rope grab her throat and squeeze. But the power of her climax roaring through her body was greater than the pain of the rope. Her entire body seemed to clench up, again and again, with the force of her lust. The incredible orgasm, born in submission and fear, took over her body and spirit. As it faded, all too quickly, she became aware again of the rope pushing back against her trachea and digging in behind her jaw bone. She tried to scream, but no sound and no breath could get past the crushing pressure of the rope. Terror replaced lust, and she felt deperately that she needed to get away. Flee. Escape. Her shoulders waved side to side. Her hands pulled uselessly at the rope binding them. Her belly clenched and released repeatedly. Her legs kicked out wildly. She hanging! She was going to die! Suddenly, the pressure vanished. His arm grabbed her under the boobs. His erection was pressed against her tail. She sagged, and gulped in air. Her body began to spasm, several times, shaking hard. She felt as if she were going to vomit, but didn't. Then, she was lying on the carpet, the rough fabric rubbing her cheek. Panting, she started to curl up into a ball. But, instead, Mark pulled her over onto her back, lying on her bound hands. For a moment, she didn't understand what was happening, as his fingers jammed into her sex. His face was suddenly in front of her. His belly was on her belly. His erection thrust into her. This is what she wanted. A man thrusting eagerly into her. It was what she lived for. She forgot the hanging. She forgot the pain and the terror. She was being fucked and that was all that mattered. But she'd just had an orgasm. Would she - Could she - Oh, yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Afterwards, she lay on the carpet catching her breath. When she rolled over on her side, to take the weight off of her bound hands, she saw Mark with the whiskey bottle. He picked up her fallen glass, and poured a drop. She'd never given him permission to have hard liquer, but he didn't wait for her permission, and took a sip. She could feel the wetness of his spew dribbling over her thigh fur, and dripping onto the carpet. He noticed her looking at him. He took another sip. "So," he said. "Get used to the ropes. I like tying you down. And get used to being hanged. I like watching you strangle." "Yes, Mark."