Noah’s eyes fluttered open, the morning light streaming through his window. He groaned, stretching out on the bed, his body still heavy with exhaustion from the night before. His hand reached for his phone on the nightstand, but instead, his fingers brushed against something else—a small giftbox wrapped in black paper with a red bow. A note was attached, the bold handwriting unmistakable.

He sat up, his heart skipping a beat as he read the message: “Wear this all day. Do NOT take it off under ANY circumstances. Also, you are not allowed to cum. If you do, you will never see your mother again, yada yada. You know the drill. We are going to increase your stamina. Breakfast and lunch are in the fridge. — Love, M”

His stomach twisted, a mix of curiosity and dread coiling inside him. He opened the box, his brow furrowing as he pulled out a strange device. It took him a moment to realize what it was—a remote-controlled vibrating cock-ring. The instructions were tucked neatly inside, and after some fumbling, he managed to get it on. The rubber cinch tightened around his ballsack, holding the ring snugly at the base of his cock. It felt uncomfortable, the pressure constant and unrelenting, making him hyper-aware of every movement.

He dressed quickly, the sensation of the ring pressing against him with each step. In the kitchen, he found the fridge stocked with two groups of food labeled “Breakfast” and “Lunch.” Breakfast consisted of eight yogurt cups, a banana, a blueberry muffin, and a pint of pineapple juice. Lunch was another eight-pack of yogurt, an egg salad sandwich, baby carrots, and, of course, more pineapple juice.

He started with breakfast, peeling back the foil lid of the first yogurt cup. Leaning over the table, he stuck out his tongue, lapping at the creamy surface. His tongue grew tired quickly, but he pressed on, imagining Mom/Morgana’s lips meeting his in a slow, sensual kiss. Halfway through, the cockring suddenly vibrated, sending a jolt of pleasure through his already stiffened cock, the vibrations intensifying the sensations.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his breath coming in short gasps. He clenched his fists, focusing on the task at hand, but the vibrations continued, relentless and maddening. By the time he finished the last yogurt cup, his face was smeared with yogurt, his tongue sore, and his cock throbbing painfully from trying to hold back his orgasm. The vibrations finally stopped as he drained the last of the pineapple juice, leaving him trembling with relief.

Grabbing his backpack, he headed for the car, the cockring a constant reminder of the challenge ahead. As he drove to college, the vibrations started again, low and steady at first, then building in intensity. His hands tightened on the wheel, his knuckles white as he focused on the road, trying to ignore the heat pooling in his groin. It was going to be a very long day.

*****

Noah stepped into the house, the door clicking shut behind him. The moment he crossed the threshold, the cockring around his shaft came to life with a low, insistent buzz that sent a jolt of electricity coursing through his body. He sucked in a sharp breath, his hand instinctively flying to the bulge in his jeans as he leaned against the wall for support. The vibrations pulsed relentlessly, each wave of sensation tightening the coil of heat low in his gut.

“God,” he muttered under his breath, his cheeks flushing as he pushed off the wall and forced himself to move forward. His boots scuffed against the floor as he stumbled into the mudroom, his eyes immediately drawn to the stack of photos spread across the table. A note sat neatly on top, the bold handwriting unmistakable:

“Your task is simple: study these images carefully. The clues are hidden within. Solve the puzzle, or your mother will suffer. — Love, M”

Noah’s fingers hovered over the first photo, the vibration of the cockring throbbing against his shaft with a low hum that made his stomach tighten. He picked it up, his breath catching as the image seared into his mind. His mother knelt on the dirt floor of the shed, her wrists bound tightly behind her back, the ropes cutting into the soft flesh of her arms. Her knees pressed into the ground, shoulders forward, elongating the curve of her spine. She was nude, every inch of her skin glistening under the flickering candlelight, a fine sheen of oil highlighting her contours. Her hair draped across her face, obscuring her eyes, but the swollen redness of her lips—stretched wide against the gag stuffed between them—made his mouth go dry.

The cockring pulsed harder, a wave of heat shooting through him as he traced the lines of her body with his gaze. His thumb brushed the edge of the photo, and he froze. There, just above her left breast, was a single letter scrawled in what looked like black eyeliner: "L." He turned the photo over and found a number written in bold marker: "1."

The next photo was the same, but from another angle. The camera had been placed below her, giving a lovely view of her lush pussy and tummy and breasts. His cock pulsed at the sight. He had to focus, however, and he closed his eyes and counted to ten. When he opened his eyes, the picture was no less arousing, but he was able to notice the "A" on her inner thigh. He reluctantly set the photo aside.

Noah’s fingers trembled as he picked up the next photo, the cockring buzzing with a low, insistent hum that sent waves of heat coursing through his body. His breath hitched as he took in the image—his mother, bound and gagged, her wrists tied tightly to stakes driven into the ground. Her arms were stretched taut, the muscles in her shoulders straining, her breasts splayed outward, nipples hard and glistening under the flickering candlelight. The angle was from above, her body completely exposed, the smoothness of her stomach leading down to the gentle swell beneath. Her eyes were closed, cheeks flushed, but her expression was impossible to read.

He traced the edge of the photo with his thumb, his gaze lingering on the curve of her hips, the way her skin seemed to glow in the dim light. The cockring pulsed harder, a jolt of electricity shooting straight to his groin. He shifted uncomfortably, his jeans tightening painfully as he forced himself to focus. There, just below her navel, was another letter scrawled in black eyeliner: "K." He turned the photo over and found the number "3" written in bold marker.

The next photo was again the same as the previous just from a different angle, this time the photo was taken from a low angle, again giving a clear view of her pussy, her legs splayed out. It took him several moments before he noticed the "E" on her foot. The back of the photo had the number "4" written on it.

The next photo made his heart skip a beat. His mother was locked in a wooden stockade, her head and hands trapped between the heavy planks. Her back was arched, her ass thrust out, the soft curves of her cheeks exposed and glistening with oil. The angle was from behind, the camera capturing every detail—the delicate crease where her thighs met her hips, the faint shadow between her legs. His mouth went dry, his pulse quickening as he studied the image. The cockring buzzed relentlessly, the vibrations intensifying the ache in his groin. He clenched his fists, trying to hold back the wave of pleasure threatening to overwhelm him. On her left thigh, he spotted the number "7," and on the back of the photo, the number "5."

The next two photos were also of her in the stockade, one from behind her showing the number "3" written next to her pussy and ass, the other from a low angle looking up at her face with the number "0" written on her cheek, dangling breast peaking out from behind the wood. The back of the photos had the numbers "6" and "7."

Altogether the letters seemed to say "LAKE 730." Not a hard puzzle, he was obviously supposed to go to the lake in the woods behind his house—more of a pond, really, but he had always called it a lake due to his overactive imagination growing up—but perhaps the challenge lay in not cumming his pants while gazing at erotic photos of his naked and bound mother.

Noah’s heart was still racing as he stepped into his bedroom, the photos clutched tightly in his hand. He set his backpack down on the floor, the weight of the day pressing heavily on his shoulders. The cockring around his shaft buzzed faintly, a constant reminder of Morgana’s control over him. His phone dinged sharply from his pocket, and he fumbled to pull it out, his fingers trembling slightly.

The screen lit up with a single message: “Come see me. —Love, M”

His stomach twisted, a mix of dread and anticipation coiling inside him. He glanced at the photos in his hand, the images of his mother—bound, vulnerable, exposed—still seared into his mind. He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and headed for her room.

The door creaked softly as he pushed it open, the dim light from the hallway spilling into the room. Morgana stood in the center, her silhouette sharp against the flickering candlelight. She wore only black panties, knee-high boots that gleamed like polished obsidian, and the sequined mask that hid her face but not the wicked curve of her lips. Her skin glowed faintly, the soft curves of her body catching the light in ways that made his mouth go dry.

“How was school?” she asked, her voice low and sultry, dripping with mockery.

Noah froze, his brain scrambling to process the question. “Oh, um—” he stammered, his cheeks flushing. The unexpectedness of it threw him off balance, his thoughts jumbling together.

Morgana cut him off with a laugh, sharp and cruel. “Poor little hero,” she purred, stepping closer. Her boots clicked against the hardwood floor, each step deliberate, predatory. “You must be so sore after edging all day.”

He swallowed hard, his throat dry. The cockring buzzed faintly, a reminder of the torment he’d endured. His jeans felt impossibly tight, the pressure building with every second she stared at him.

“Undress,” she commanded, her voice leaving no room for argument. “I want to see what I’m working with.”

Noah hesitated, his hands hovering uncertainly at the hem of his shirt. His pulse quickened, and the heat in his cheeks spread down his neck. Slowly, reluctantly, he pulled his shirt over his head, the fabric briefly catching on his arms before he tossed it aside. His fingers fumbled with the button of his jeans, and his hands trembled as he pushed them down along with his underwear, stepping out of them awkwardly.

Morgana circled him slowly, her gaze raking over his body with an intensity that made his skin prickle. Her eyes lingered on his cock, engorged and straining against the confines of the cockring. She hummed thoughtfully, her lips curving into a sly smile. “Adequate,” she finally judged, her tone dismissive.

Before he could react, her foot hooked around his ankle, and she shoved him hard in the chest. Noah stumbled backward, his arms flailing as he lost his balance. He hit the floor with a thud, the air rushing out of his lungs. Before he could recover, Morgana was on him, her boot pressing firmly against his neck.

Panic surged through him as the pressure cut off his blood flow to his brain, his vision dimming at the edges. He gasped, his hands instinctively reaching for her leg, but she pressed down harder, her weight pinning him in place. His heart pounded in his ears, the world narrowing to the feel of her boot against his throat and the dark gleam in her eyes.

“Open your mouth wide, little hero,” she commanded, her voice cold and menacing. “And keep it open.”

Noah hesitated, his mind racing. What was she going to do? But the pressure on his neck increased, and he had no choice. He opened his mouth, his jaw trembling slightly, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

Morgana leaned over him, her face inches from his. Her lips parted, and a long string of saliva dripped from her mouth, landing squarely on his tongue. A few drops splattered onto his chin, warm and wet.

“Now swallow,” she ordered, her voice low and dangerous. She pressed down harder on his neck for emphasis, cutting off his airflow completely for a moment before easing up just enough for him to obey.

Noah swallowed, the saliva sliding down his throat. He looked up at her, his eyes wide with fear and confusion, though for some reason his cock felt ready to burst.

Morgana smirked, her lips curling into a wicked grin. “Congratulations, little hero,” she purred, her voice dripping with malice. “You just swallowed the same poison your mother had. And now… I own you.”

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut, his mind reeling. Poison? Owned? His heart pounded, a mix of panic and disbelief twisting his stomach into knots, the line between fantasy and reality blurring even further. He stared up at her, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find the words.

Morgana sauntered back toward the bed, her hips swaying with deliberate slowness. She stopped just short of it, her back still turned to him. Without warning, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her black panties and pushed them down to her ankles, her legs remaining perfectly straight. The candlelight caught every curve, every detail—her pussy glistening faintly, her asshole tight and exposed. She stood there for a moment, letting him take in the sight, before turning to face him.

Her lips curved into a sly smile, one eyebrow arched as she tilted her head slightly. “Like what you see?” Her voice was low, teasing, dripping with mockery.

Noah’s throat tightened, his mouth dry. His eyes flicked between her face and the intimate display she was offering. “Um—” he started, his voice cracking under the weight of the moment.

She cut him off with a sharp laugh, waving a hand dismissively. “I don’t care.” Her tone was cold, almost bored, as if his answer was irrelevant. She stepped backward until her knees hit the edge of the bed, then sat down with a fluid grace that made his stomach twist. She leaned back on her left hand, her right leg bending at the knee as she spread herself wide, her fingers already tracing lazy circles around her clit.

“There is an antidote, of course,” she said, her voice casual, as if discussing the weather. Her middle finger dipped inside her pussy, sliding in deep with a soft, wet sound. She moaned, low and throaty, her head tilting back slightly. “You must swallow your mother’s orgasmic juices.” She pulled her finger out slowly, the tip glistening, and brought it to her lips. Her tongue darted out, licking the moisture from her skin with deliberate slowness. Another moan escaped her, this one more drawn out, more theatrical. She popped her finger out of her mouth with a wet sound, her eyes locking onto his. “And since I occupy your mother’s body for the moment…” She trailed off, her smirk widening. “It’s time to see if your training has paid off.”

Her hand returned to her pussy, her fingers stroking lightly, teasingly. She shifted slightly, leaning forward just enough to emphasize the invitation. “Come,” she purred, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Give me a kiss, little hero.”

Noah’s heart hammered in his chest, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He hesitated for a moment, his mind racing, but the weight of her command—and the threat behind it—pushed him forward. He got up to his hands and knees, the cool hardwood floor pressing against his palms as he crawled toward her. Each movement felt surreal, like he was watching himself from outside his body. His cock throbbed painfully, the cockring still buzzing faintly.

When he reached the edge of the bed, she grabbed him by the hair, her fingers tangling tightly in the strands. She yanked his head up sharply, forcing him to look at her. Her eyes were dark, gleaming with a mix of amusement and menace. “I don’t need to tell you what happens if you disappoint me, do I?” Her voice was low, dangerous, each word a blade pressed against his throat.

Noah’s head shook quickly, his throat too tight to speak. Morgana’s smirk deepened, her eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and menace. She held his gaze for a moment longer, her fingers tightening in his hair, before she yanked him forward and shoved his face firmly into her waiting pussy.

The scent hit him first—warm, musky, and intoxicating, flooding his senses like a drug. His breath caught, his heart pounding as the taste of her arousal overwhelmed him. Salty, sweet, and impossibly rich, it coated his tongue, sending a jolt of heat straight to his groin. His nose pressed against her clit, the soft nub already swollen and sensitive, and he could feel her thighs trembling on either side of his head.

“Lick,” she commanded, her voice low and sharp, cutting through the haze of his thoughts. Her grip on his hair tightened, guiding his movements, forcing his tongue to drag along her folds. “Not like that,” she hissed, her tone laced with impatience. “Faster. Harder.”

Noah obeyed, his tongue moving instinctively, lapping at her with more urgency. The vibrations from the cockring buzzed faintly, but it was nothing compared to the way her body responded to his touch.

“Yes… yes,” she gasped, her voice breaking as her orgasm crashed over her. Her body convulsed, her pussy clenching around his tongue as she cried out, her grip on his hair tightening to the point of pain. The vibrations from the cockring surged again, stronger than ever, the pressure building in his own groin threatening to overwhelm him.

Noah groaned, his body tensing...