This weekend, my Son said we were going to take a drive in the country, stay at a nice little B and B and have quality time together. I was so excited. Usually he just has time to fuck me, pimp me out to his friends, humiliate me, slap me around and leave me covered in cum. Once in a blue moon, he is a benevolent master and enjoys quality time with his mother. I thought this weekend trip was one such time. Of course, I was wrong.
We returned to my house. He forgot something. When we arrived back home, there was no one else there. And the power appeared off. Odd. Before I could even put my suitcase down and check the lights, my son threw me in the basement. I was down there, in the dark for over an hour, scared and alone. Then I heard the door open, and my son came down, shoved me against the wall and said, “Ready for a little game mommy? If you survive, if you get out, we can have your precious mommy son getaway.” Apparently, all I had to do was get out of the house. Like some maze or something. Obviously, he was in a sadistic mood this weekend. Which meant he had been snorting nose candy all weekend. This is never good for me.
He left me in the basement, but untied my hands and I had to figure out how to get out of this hell hole. I tried to gain some composure and think. I started to crawl against wall till I could find some stairs or a door. I found the stairs, and started to crawl up them. I hate the dark. My son knows this. He gets sick pleasure out of watching me suffer; out of knowing I’m scared. At the top of the stairs I put my hands in something really gross and slimy. It was moving. I freaked out, pushed open the door and a little hint of light shined on this huge pile of worms. I thought I would vomit. Worms creep me out, but then my son knows that. He knows all my fears. I didn’t get far before I felt something crawling on me, more than just something, a lot of somethings. I started running in the dark, hit a table and fell down. I closed my mouth and my eyes as I felt big hairy things, spiders I bet, swarming my body. I was trembling, crying; I even peed my pants I was so scared. They seemed endless. I remembered my cell phone was in my pocket and I reached for it and turned it on for some faint light. I was horrified at all the hairy creepy spiders all over my body. I stood up, spun around trying to shake them off. My skin was crawling.
My son and a bunch of his twisted coked up friends were watching me somehow jacking their cocks to my fear; I just knew it. I was scared, trembling but kept trying to get the fuck out of there. Suddenly I was in another room, the living room I think, and for a moment I thought the worse was over, then I got a glimpse of this evil voodoo doll with a spear I think. Almost shit myself. There was some sort of flashing white light so it looked like the doll was moving. Then I felt a sharp pain, and felt blood trickling down my leg. I look down and that thing was fucking alive. It chased me around the room, stabbing my ankles and my feet. I was begging my son to give up this nonsense. Said they could all gang bang me if they wanted, just let me out of my house of horrors. I was scared and now bleeding and hurt. I was ignored. I tried to get to the master bedroom, limping. Before I could, I saw and evil clown. I have hated clowns since I was a little girl and my daddy tormented me with them. Of course my son knows this; he knows everything and that knowledge was being used against me for his entertainment. I was beginning to go mad. This was insane. Everything I am scared of was in this house.
I managed to hobble to the bedroom, praying that eventually I would just walk out the front door and this would be over. I saw the mirror and thought if I shined my cell phone in it I might be able to illuminate the room enough to get my bearings and find the window or something to get out. As soon as I shined the light I saw an evil, scary apparition. A ghostly white face staring back at me. Surely this was not my reflection. I screamed loudly closed my eyes in attempt to make it go away. I counted to ten, but before I reached the end, cold hands throttled my neck saying, “Be one of us Blair.” Be one of what? The dead? Was I even gonna make it out alive? Was this real or all part of my son’s evil plan to scare the life out of his mother. I fought whatever this creature was and got away but had scratches all over my face; I could feel blood running down my face. I was panicked, and this game had gone on too long now. I started running, but something, someone grabbed my feet and I fell to the ground. My face smacked hard on the floor. I turned around and saw this bloody, pale girl that looked literally like death pulling me towards her. I screamed and I kicked, but she kept pulling me. Until she pulled me back down into the basement. I fell several feet through a trap door and banged my body up good. I was lying there on the floor, bloody, in pain, scared shitless, thinking I might actually die in my own house when my son turned on flashing white lights and I looked around and there he was with several friends laughing at me. They started calling me a cry baby whore and kicking me, and spitting on me. I was all ready battered and bruised and bleeding all over. 
They enjoyed beating the living crap out of me for awhile before jacking their cocks all over me. They enjoyed seeing their cum on my bruised, swollen and bloody body. They enjoyed fucking my ass repeatedly as I laid their helpless, semi conscious and in need of medical attention. And my son loved turning my house, our pleasure palace, into a house of horrors for me. I love my son, but he is a sick mother fucker who gets off on tormenting me. I barely survived my scare house; I can only imagine what is in store for me next.
I have so many lovely little items around my house that keep it nice and cozy. Things like my hand collection. Hands that I have severed from victims and placed in ant hills until the flesh is completely devoured by my little insect friends so that I can keep the skeletal remains forever. Or the beautiful lamps that I make that are lit and have severed body parts floating inside them. Or my wall of heads, skulls from previous victims that have been picked clean just like the hands and placed on display .I have always cherished my little chachkies and have kept them all to myself. However recently a very nosy, very annoying family has moved into the neighborhood. I decided it was time to teach them a lesson. I know it won’t take me any time at all to scare these fuckers right out of their house. Last night I put my plan in motion. I took one of my least favorite hands and slipped into their home while they slept. I placed it in the kitchen, in the garbage disposal so that in the morning they would find it. I plan to bury a skull next to the front walk tonight with the crown sticking out of the ground. Next they will find a beheaded chicken on the back porch. Things will gradually get worse until the final nail in the coffin. A black cat that I killed yesterday. I gutted it and shaved an inverted cross into it’s fur between it’s eyes. This wonderful trinket will be left in their bed while they are at work. Under the covers so that they don’t find it until they turn in for the night. I can keep this up for ever if I have to, but I believe after a few weeks of little surprises they will be more then ready to pack.
