I grew up in Britain, with a single alcoholic mother who introduced me to "wanking" at a very young age! She insisted on bathing me, and paid particular attention to my 'goodies' with the result I got erections from the age of ten! Her temper was pretty hot when she'd been drinking, and I learned quickly to cooperate or be shut in a small closet for a whole day, crammed among all her coats, in stifling blackness, until asked if I was ready for another 'wank' to which I confessed hastily. It was incredibly intense, and after long spells of it, I would be driven to writhe, and even fend off her clever fingers, to her anger. So I discovered being tied up, so I couldn't interfere with her obsessive caresses. I began to enjoy this particularly, and she really appreciated my ever-increasing delight in the process. I began to get very vocal, as things progressed, and this irritated her, and one day she snatched an old musty-smelling trench coat out of the closet, threw it over my head, and knotted the sleeves round my neck, wicked tight, which silenced me instantly, as I now had to learn to breathe differently! Looking back, I think she liked this because it removed any guilt feelings, with the anonymity factor, and encouraged her to new depths of 'depravity' from the conventional point of view. Me, I found it just heightened my enjoyment of the process, and it wasn't long before I was pleading with her for more, and more, and longer and longer! "Just like your dad!" she commented gleefully. Since she was officially 'home schooling' me, our sessions became longer and longer, and more intense, and I was an unresisting plaything for her, often suggesting things that intrigued her, and to which she admitted 'my dad' had been involved in. Like being trussed up in an old sleeping-bag. the wrong way round, tied at the neck and waist, and breathing through the metal zipper, and a small opening right at the end of it, in a corner. Then the bottom half was worked back up, re-covering me to the neck, and leaving my by now huge cock exposed and vulnerable. The inability to resist, or affect any facet of my 'abuse' was addictive, and soon all I wanted, was to be kept this way, pleading faintly, and vainly for the relief of an orgasm. It is obvious, looking back, that my mother was a true sadist, and really got off on my utter helplessness, and desire for more of it. I'm sure the alcohol was a factor. About a year later, she found a boyfriend - another fairly serious drinker, and I soon learned how to suck cock from inside the sleeping-bag. I was revolted at first, but it was made plain to me that this was the price I had to pay for what I really needed, and I decided it was worth it. They got married, eventually, and they discovered they were both okay with him taking the active part, and her just watching, and making the odd suggestion. To my surprise at the time, what he subjected me to, was even more addictive than the previous arrangement! When I was twelve, she stepped in front of a bus, and it was just him and me! My grieving was aided by his non-stop wankings, and demands for fellatio, and soon I was totally dependent on him! Then he began bringing a 'friend' and then another, and another, and soon I had a cock up my ass, another in my mouth, and someone else wanking me to death! What started off as repellant, soon became an utter delight, and time passed, slowly, exquisitely, in a welter of sweat and orgasm. Now I'm middle-aged, and married to a much older woman, a sister of one of the original three, who rules my life with an iron hand in a velvet (actually latex) glove.