Read this novel at subscribestar.adult/fallenhead
Illustrations Posted on subscribestar
Chapter 15: Redemption in Despair
The day-and-night, boundary-shattering final revel in the camp suite was like a raging fever; once spent, it left marrow-deep cold and a wrecked ruin.
Chen Fang felt like a husk with the insides scooped out discarded on the filthy floor.
Her soul seemed torn by that storm of chaos into countless fragments scattered in every corner each smeared with semen, juices, and indelible sin.
Back in that familiar yet strange "home," her husband's calls came with formulaic concern asking whether camp had been pleasant.
Phone in hand, fingertips cold, throat sandpaper-dry she could only push out brittle monosyllables like "Mm," "Fine."
Looking in the mirror at a hollow-eyed, gray-faced woman, her husband's voice felt like it came from a parallel universe distant, blurred.
She was no longer the mother who sacrificed everything for her son; she was a dirty container violated in turn by her own son and another boy even her back gate opened.
The recognition coiled like a cold viper around her heart each beat a choke of pain.
Days later, an ordinary supermarket run became the final straw.
Pushing a cart in produce, she picked fruit.
Two Asian schoolgirls passed youth loud, laughter clear two sprouts beaded with dew.
One girl glanced at Chen Fang her eyes paused half a second on a not-yet-faded hickey with tooth-marks on Chen Fang's neck.
The look held no malice only a girl's naive curiosity about the adult world and a hint of… confusion?
Perhaps she simply thought this auntie's "boyfriend" was a bit rough.
But that glance, that flicker of confusion, branded her most shame-sensitive nerve like a red-hot iron.
She froze. Her blood congealed.
Voices, lights, merchandise everything faded, twisted, receded.
She felt stripped naked, under spotlights, receiving the silent judgment of all.
The hickey her son Xiaoyu's "mark," a "trophy" chewed into her after he spent himself was no longer a skin mark; it was the badge of all her filth, sins, and descent.
It proclaimed to the world: an incestuous slut owned by her own son.
"Look! It's her!"
"On her neck… tsk, she plays wild…"
"They say her son…"
"Disgusting! How does she show her face?"
Imagined whispers full of scorn flooded her mind sharp, shrill.
Everyone pointed, she felt eyes full of disgust and prying.
A great panic cold water drowned her at once.
Like a spooked cub, she wanted to flee the cage of judging gazes.
She dropped the cart left the picked goods hand clamped on the hickey rushed out stumbling.
Afternoon sun stabbed her eyes, yet she felt ice-cold fallen into an ice cave.
She ran home the heels' staccato like a death bell pounding her frayed nerves.
Inside door shut she slid down it gasping like a fish cold sweat soaking her.
Curled on the foyer tile shaking silent tears poured.
The supermarket's imagined judgment shredded her last thin pretense of "normal."
Fear boundless like black fog swaddled and swallowed her.
It's over… all over…
They'll know… everyone will know…
My husband will cast me aside… my son… my son how will he see me? No… he'll only own me more wantonly humiliate me…
What can I do? Where can I go?
Despair a cold vise on her throat.
She felt dragged toward an abyss named "social death" and "eternal scorn" no return.
Then, in that drowning despair, a faint, piercing voice like the last straw sounded in her chaos:
Only him! Only Xiaoyu!
The thought bore a chilling, sick "logic":
Xiaoyu knew all her filth and was the greatest perpetrator.
Before him, she needn't pretend pretense was already ripped apart.
He was witness and participant to her sins.
In a foreign land husband far, Wang Li barely afloat (even a pusher), society (the supermarket's imagined eyes) a fearsome enemy only Xiaoyu the son who dragged her down strangely became the only "entity" she could cling to.
His existence his "ownership" brought endless pain and shame, yes; but at least… it proved she "existed" not fully discarded.
His desire became her only "proof of value."
If she clung to Xiaoyu satisfied him, pleased him made him "need" her perhaps… in that twisted world-for-two he built, she could gain a warped "safety"?
The world outside was too terrifying; only in that sinful nest could she "safely" rot.
Xiaoyu's desire became a twisted "umbrella" against the storm.
She even painted "love" over the despair.
I am his mother… whatever he does to me… I must… accept him… It is my fate… my… duty? The thought was absurd yet in despair's soil, it grew wild.
She reframed his pathological possessiveness as an extreme, deformed "need" and "dependence."
To satisfy him became her last, twisted "redemption" as a mother self-sacrifice to purchase illusory "peace."
It wasn't a clearheaded recognition but a breaking mind's survival logic gappy yet built to "live" (even as a walking corpse).
It was a weak, twisted light deadly alluring guiding her deeper into dark descent.
That evening, when Xiaoyu came home sweat from exercise his cold, possessive eyes raked her Chen Fang's body trembled faintly.
The supermarket fear returned; this time she didn't dodge or resist she even… stepped toward him.
She entered the bathroom lights off.
In the dark, she undressed and opened the shower.
Warm water washed her body mapped with kisses and bites but couldn't rinse the deep dirt.
Watching the blurred figure in the mirror, she felt the woman named Chen Fang melting away.
In her place something nameless without past or future… a container.
A vessel prepared solely for her son's desire.
I am not Chen Fang… she murmured in a self-hypnotic rite. I am… his. Only his. The thought brought eerie calm.
She washed carefully especially between her legs and behind mechanical, focused like preparing a sacrificial offering.
Shame remained but was buried under a stronger numb "duty" and "survival."
She even used the sweet-scented feminine wash Wang Li "recommended" meticulous not for cleanliness but to… "serve" better.
When Xiaoyu opened the door impatient urging she was "ready."
No frantic covering she turned slowly, letting the water course over her naked body through steam looking at her son.
Her eyes were no longer hollow or packed with pain and refusal.
They held a near-dead calm with a fire of mad, twisted resolve burning under.
She saw the instant flare of familiar desire in his eyes and walked to him, step by step.
He blinked thrown by her "initiative" a flick of doubt then desire engulfed it.
Wordless, she reached with trembling hands not to push him away but, sacrificially, to loose the band of his shorts.
His familiar rod the symbol of absolute power and incest sprang out, engorged and heady with male musk.
She looked at it eyes complex without retreat.
She knelt on slippery tiles.
A pose once the apex of humiliation now bore a self-chosen, twisted "ceremony."
No hesitation mouth opening numbly expert yet more "focused" and "devoted" than ever she took the large head deep into her warm mouth.
"Mmm…" Xiaoyu sighed in sated pleasure hand on her wet crown.
Not passive this time
She worked deep tongue agile on the ridge copying remembered pleasures throat relaxed trying to deepthroat.
Her motion carried do-or-die resolve offering this body fully to buy that illusory "safety" and "existence."
Xiaoyu, inflamed by unprecedented "enthusiasm" and "skill," breathed hard hips moving soaking in her service.
As she felt the shaft near release, she didn't pull away went deeper throat working swallowing the scalding, thick essence of her son.
Some spilled down her chin blending with water.
She didn't wipe it; she lifted her head eyes misted and eerily calm white still at her lips.
"To the bed." Her voice was hoarse yet held a startling initiative?
His eyes darkened her "command" stoked an even fiercer urge to conquer.
He yanked her up roughly toweled swept her up and carried her to the bedroom.
This time, she wasn't a passive doll.
When he pressed down, she opened guiding him.
Under his harsh pounding, she didn't grit and endure; she tried to move her hips clumsy but intent matching his rhythm.
She even mimicked Wang Li's sounds ragged, held-back moans: "Ah… Xiaoyu… harder… fuck Mommy… Mommy… inside… so good…"
Her "initiative" was raw obvious mimicry the dead flat still at the bottom of her eyes.
But that raw meeting that imitation worked like the strongest drug driving Xiaoyu wilder.
He growled harder each slam like to her soul.
She felt the familiar inner waves fullness, battering pain laced with physical pleasure.
This time, she didn't drift out and numb.
She forced herself to sink into it focus on bodily sensation on how to "please" her son.
She shut out the supermarket's imagined eyes her husband's distant concern Wang Li's wanton image shame and fear all forced outside.
Her world held only Xiaoyu his desire and this body meant to satisfy him and buy "safety."
Yes… like that… satisfy him… please him… hold him… only him… The charm looped madly.
She worked harder sweeter moans arms tight round his neck as if he were her only straw her shield against the storm outside.
When Xiaoyu burst inside her, she peaked too.
Not merely physical this time but twisted "satisfaction" of self-sacrifice achieved and a sick "calm" of gripping the straw.
She clutched his sweaty body like a drowning soul clinging to driftwood face buried in his chest greedily breathing the mix of sweat and semen now her "safe-zone" scent.
In the abyss of despair, her heart completed its last molt.
She snuffed out the last spark of the woman named Chen Fang and remade herself as a twisted vessel existing only for Xiaoyu's desire.
She had sunk and in the sinking, found a warped "calm" and "belonging" on a bed of quicksand.
This was the only "way forward" she could find after the string snapped.
Illustrations Posted on subscribestar
-----------------------------------------------------------
To read Ahead go to my subscribestar
subscribestar.adult/fallenhead
This novel has 60 chapters on subscribestar
-----------------------------------------------------------