Lisa go back to sleep." She closed her eyes and collapsed."Sara, you are all alone and feeling sexy and very warm. Take all of your clothes off." This...was the test. She might reject the suggestion and wake up. She didn't. I was rationalizing this was all for Sara's benefit. Yeah, right. Well, she would benefit. She stood up and opened her jacket and shrugged it off. She had a white blouse on. She opened that and pulled it out of her skirt and removed it. She wore a matronly type bra that. Our past relationship paved the way for her to immediately peel her shirt off over her head. As she asked "well what do you think honey?" "Do they look bigger?" Indeed they did look larger. They were spilling out of her bra to the point of looking funny. To say her bra was too small was like comparing it to holding ten handfuls of sand with two hands. It just wasn't going to happen. I couldn't believe my luck at getting to blatantly stare and then comment on my mother's breasts without fear of. I hated hearing their cries and the sound of a hand - or the almost-silent sound of the hairbrush - hitting them rhythmically.The cries would sometimes turn to screams and usually begging: "Please Mommy! PLEASE NO MORE!! OWWWWWW!! I'll be good!" Of course, it was to no avail. That was what she wanted. She wanted to hear the crying and screaming and begging.At times like that I would pray to God to give me an older brother - and it wasn't just on those nights when I heard them getting spanked. I. That missing something was his real life exposure to BDSM, his actual moans to the tease of a Domme, his intense service orientation being used by a Domme. Niyol kept his submissiveness alive by being online in chat rooms, with those short and sometimes long role-plays and with those rare offline real life orders of very few Mistresses in his life yet. The extent of those obeying was up-to orgasms/nudity at home/soft punishments like self spankings/and very long teasing before release.In one of.