Humiliated by Mommy part 3
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Humiliated By Mommy Part 2 free porn video
Humiliated by Mommy by Naughtieboys [email protected]
© Julian Smith and Em-bare-assed Press 1999-2001. Revised 2013.
THIS STORY IS PURE FICTION (or unpure friction) FOR ADULTS ONLY. NO REAL
CHILDREN WERE HARMED IN THE PRODUCTION OF THIS STORY. BY READING
FURTHER, YOU ARE DECLARING THAT YOU ARE A CONSENTING ADULT.
This work is copyright by the author. Commercial use is prohibited
without permission. Personal/private copies are permitted only if
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Humiliated by Mommy by Naughtieboys
CHAPTER 2 Panties on TV
I awake the next morning feeling something tickling my thighs.
"I'm just doing a little morning dusting dear. I know you're still
asleep, so just keep your eyes closed and sleep soundly while mommy
cleans up."
She briskly rubs that feather-duster over my panties, and I'm suppose to
pretend I'm asleep?
I had been dreaming, or am I still dreaming? No, I'm awake now and I
remember a time when I was a teenager. I was 13 years old. Mom is out
shopping. I am in the living room, lying on my stomach watching TV. It
is a snowy winter afternoon, but I am just in my tight, white Fruit of
the Loom briefs. I have the heat cranked up to stay toasty warm. I am
watching a lame comedy with Bob Hope and Phyllis Diller. But I'm not
watching because of them. I am so engrossed because Elke Sommer is in
it--a frequently scantily-clad Elke Sommer.
Elke is in a baby doll nightie, displaying way too much of her thighs
and panties for 1960s TV. I am humping the carpet--heart pounding,
hyper-ventilating, and about to come in my undies.
I'm startled by a noise behind me. Oh no--this can't be. It's mom. I
was so lost in my sexual fantasy I didn't hear her. She's smiling down
at me. That condescending "I caught you" grin. I sheepishly gaze up at
her. She's wearing a mini-skirt and a fur coat. The furry hem of the
coat just covers the tops of her thighs, so I know her mini must be
pretty short (even by her standards). From my vantage point, I'm
peering right up those long legs, which appear to go on forever. That
doesn't helping my hard-on go down, and I'm trapped lying face down like
this until my cock calms down.
"What's up?" she innocently asks, as if she doesn't know what I'm doing.
"Just watching a movie," I timidly reply.
She watches and starts laughing. She decides to make herself
comfortable, so she takes a seat right behind me. She's roaring with
laughter at this movie I find totally stupid, now that it's been
stripped of its jerk-off value. As I lay there, feeling totally
exposed, my ass-cheeks barley conceal by my underpants, I feel like my
mother's laughing at my predicament.
Am I just being paranoid? Is my own mother so amused by catching me
jerking off? Does she know I'm a reluctant, captive exhibitionist,
pinned to the floor in front of her, unable to leave; otherwise she'd
really get an eye-full?
"It's awfully warm in here. What do you have the heat up to 90?" She
asks annoyed.
I swivel my neck around to watch her stand up and reach under her fur
coat to unfasten her skirt. Now I'm the captive audience to her
exhibitionism, as she wriggles out of her skirt. As if taking off her
little mini-skirt is going to cool her off. She's still wearing her
damn fur coat for God's sake.
Does she know I've tried on her fur coat? Just last week when she was
out, I snuck into her closet while I was stripped down to a pair of her
pale pink panties, and wrapped myself in that white fur. The fur hem
just about drove me insane with lust as it tickled my thighs. Now she
is feeling that same sensation, as she stands over me in panties and fur
coat.
She sits back down and sensuously crosses her legs. I realize I've been
staring and abruptly snap my head back. My erection's growing if
anything. Come on damn it--go down, go down!
"Justin, mommy has something she needs to talk to you about. Why don't
you hop up here and sit next to mommy so we can have a little chat?" she
says patting the couch.
Oh great, I think, now she wants to totally humiliate me--gets me all
excited by doing a little striptease, and then wants me to expose the
bulge in my underpants.
"I'm listening mom," I answer, trying to avoid getting up (and stalling
to give time for my thingie to go down).
She seamlessly transitions from a saccharin sweet to a scolding tone.
"Justin, you get up here right this minute. I have a serious matter to
discuss with you and I want to talk eye-to-eye. I am not going to talk
to you while leering at your underpants-clad bottom. Although if what
I've suspect is true, I may be doing another kind of communicating with
that naughty bottom of yours."
I was half-hoping she'd berate me some more. Maybe the shame and fear
would scare my cock down, but somehow her words have just the opposite
effect. Maybe it was the way she pointed out that she's looking at my
butt, that I'm just in my jockeys, and she's threatening to spank me.
I'm a teenager. She hasn't spanked me since... well, not since I became a
teenager anyway.
I don't move. I can't bear to let her see how stiff my dick is. I
don't think I could get up even if I wanted. I'm frozen to the spot.
Damn, there's Elke on screen again--still in her nightie and panties.
Suddenly my mother gets up and grabs the back of my underpants. I can
feel her fingers and long red nails grasp the elastic waistband and tug
on it. I feel the air on my now exposed bottom as she pulls the back of
my underpants a few inches away from my butt. I can feel her eyes
boring into my underpants. My bottom cheeks warmed by the shame of it
all. I feel so mortified. Here I am 13 years old and my mother is
treating me like a naughty kindergartner. Gazing at my nude ass--the ass
she's threatening to spank.
Her aggressiveness has roused me (and aroused me). I get up and plop
down on the couch next to her. She sits too close to me. Our legs are
ever so slightly grazing up against each other, and her hand remains
tucked into the back of my briefs. She releases the grip as she
straightens her fingers, but leaves her warm digits inside my
underpants. The pointy fingernail of her middle finger rests gently on
the crack of my fanny. My hard-on is stretching the confines of the
front of my briefs. I wish this was over.
"I have something I want to show you, Justin."
She takes the hand that is inside my underpants, and moves it around to
my side. Her fingers brush against my left butt-cheek, traveling slowly
around to my waist. She stretches the elastic a good three inches from
my body and lets it snap back against my skin as she smiles at me. The
THAWACK sound hangs in the air, as she leans over me to reach for her
Lord and Taylor's shopping bag. Her legs are pressing down on my lap as
she rummages around in the bag looking for something.
Why can't she just take the bag and sit up and look through it? No, she
has to torment me by sprawled over my thighs, wriggling her flesh
against mine as she searches for whatever it is she has to show me.
Finally she locates the item and sits back up. She just lets the
garment dangle from the nail of her index finger as she silently
displays a pair of ultra-feminine panties under my nose.
"Well?" she finally breaks the silence.
"Well?" I inquire back in feigned ignorance.
"Do they look familiar? They should. They're exactly the same as the
ones you've been stealing. The silky, leopard-print panties that you've
been sneaking out of mommy's draw and stretching out of shape."
As she emphasizes that last phrase. "stretching out of shape," she
deliberately looks at the underpants I'm wearing, which I am stretching
to their maximum capacity.
She continues, "... So, I had to buy a replacement pair, since you're not
the only one who finds sexy animal-print panties irresistible." Having
said that, she nonchalantly leans back, causing the hem of her fur coat
to rise up, unveiling a glimpse of black and white, tiger-stripe panties
she's wearing.
I gulp, louder than I wished.
"Now, can you promise mommy you will not ruin this new pair of pretty
panties if I give you that old pair?"
"Yes mommy," I hypnotically agree.
"Good boy. Then go fetch those leopard panties that you can't resist and
bring them here."
I dash off to her bedroom, as I hear her call out. "I'm sure you know
exactly where to find them." The shame of that remark slows me down,
but I can't deny the truth of it, as I open her top draw and find them
at the back right-hand side, where they always are. I bring the panties
back to the living room and place them in my mother's out-stretched
hand.
"Now turn around and face away from mommy."
I do as I'm told. I feel her thumbs hook the elastic of my Fruit of the
Looms and swiftly plunges them to my ankles. "Step out of your little
boy undies, honey."
Again, I obey. I feel a SWAT against my naked bottom. "You're a very
naughty boy. Sneaking into mommy's private things and trying on her
clothes." She lowers the leopard skimpy panties to just behind my
feet. Without being asked, I step into them. She slowly pulls the
feminine garment up my legs, while her fingernail tips gently scratch my
ankles, calves, knees, and stop at my thighs. She pulls away and leaves
the panties tautly hugging the tops of my thighs. Then she gives me
another slap on my butt. "When mommy goes out, you misbehave like a
naughty 7 year old. So mommy's going to treat you like a little child.
A naughty, disobedient child. A naughty boy. Wearing those panties,
more like a naughty little girl. A very SMACK naughty SPANK little
SPANK girlie SMACK SMACK who needs SPANK her mommy SPANK to
give her SLAP a spankie SPANK SPANK SPANK!
"Are you a naughty girl? Or are you a naughty sissy? Are you mommy's
naughty sissy?"
She then tugs the panties up, grabs my wrist, and spins me around
towards her. I end up across her lap in a very vulnerable position.
She softly caresses my silk-covered bottom, making loving circles with
her hand. My throbbing member is crammed against her thighs, with only
the thin material of the panties to protect it.
My thighs are pressed into a sea of fur and flesh. The sensation
overwhelm my young body and psyche.
"I know you don't mean to be a bad boy, you get seduced by mommy's sexy
undies. Don't you? You naughty thing. Just like mommy, you can't
resist the lure of the silky textures against your bare skin, or the
erotic attraction of animal patterns. We get such an exhibitionistic
exhilaration out of having only a tiny garment to protect us from total
nudity--the naughtiness of it all and the femininity. It's a maddening
mixture of the *vulnerability* of feeling so exposed, combined with the
*power* over any poor soul who sees us and gets ensnared in our erotic
web."
I'm the poor soul trapped in her erotic web. I can't believe this is
all happening. I am in an altered state. My heart is pounding, I feel
dizzy, spaced out, scared, and exhilarated. It's like my whole body is
one big pulsating erection. Libidinal energy is shooting through me.
My toes are involuntarily twitching. My skin is hyper-sensitized. My
cock is on fire.
I'm anticipating the spanking to start, but instead, she slides her warm
hand under my gauzy panties and rests her palm over the globes of my
buttocks. "What are we going to do with such a perverse little boy?
Hmmmm? What *are* we going to do?"
She then raises and lower her hand inside the panties. Ever-so-gently,
she sensuously love-taps my bottom. I feel crazed. I am on the brink
of something. Coming? Insanity? Hysterically crying? Having a heart
attack? I don't know what, but I can't take much more of this--the
humiliation, the teasing, the punishment. This is my own mother, what
the hell does she think she's doing?!
I snap back to the present. I'm not 6, I'm not 13, I'm a 19 year old
man. I'm half-asleep in a pair of my mother's panties, in my mother's
bed. She's gone. Last I remember, she was teasing me with that
feather-duster. She left the feather duster stuck between my thighs.
The feathers tickling me the whole time I was caught in my reverie of
that time when I was 13. How long ago did mommy leave?
I get up and find a note on the kitchen table:
Dear Justin,
You've been acting so naughty, that I've hidden your big boy's
clothes. But don't worry dear; I've left you some things to wear
that are more appropriate for the way you've been behaving.
I'll
be back before 9.
Love,
Mommy
It's just past 8:30. I can imagine what she left me to wear.... She hid
my clothes. They must be around here somewhere. This place isn't that
big. I have less than half an hour. I'm so hungry, and I'm dying to
jerk-off. I'm *so* frustrated. I've been constantly teased and
tormented.
I run around the house until I find in the bathroom what she left for me
to wear. It's a sailor suit that be too juvenile for an 8 year old.
Complete with blue and white short-sleeved shirt with a built-in fake
tie, navy blue velvet shorts, above the knee white socks, little white
sailor's cap, and some kid's size Fruit of the Loom underpants. I'm
still in the leopard panties, so I opt for the infantile boy's clothes,
sans the cap. The kiddy outfit is very tight, especially the
underpants, but I am able to squeeze my skinny body into the ridiculous
costume.
I feel like a little sissy, ashamed but also incredibly aroused. I
rationalize that I'm so turned on because I've been deprived of my
favorite pastime (masturbating), not because I'm getting some thrill out
of my sissified image reflected in the full length bathroom mirror. I
start to hump against the bathroom sink, but then a wave of fear
paralyzes me. I don't want her to catch me in this outfit, especially
not with a raging hard-on poking at the front of these tiny shorts.
In a flash of insight, I charge into my mother's bedroom and look under
her bed. There's so much junk stored under it, I can't tell if my
clothes are under there somewhere. I'm in such a rush, I neglect to
open the drapes or turn on a light. I just flop down on my stomach, and
crawl half-way under her bed. I rummage around in the dark--flipping a
lid off a box, opening up a plastic storage container, peeking behind
crates.
As I journey deeper into this underworld, I realize it's too dark to
see. I decide to turn on a light, but I'm unable to turn around in the
cramped quarters. My wiggling causes a few boxes to fall on me. I
can't turn around, but no problem, I'll just back out. After squirming
partly around under there, I try and straighten out. This is worse than
I thought, and as I begin to panic, I try and force my way out, spasming
and jolting forward and back. Flopping like a fish out of water in
energetic bursts. This only makes matters worse, as I knock over a
couple of boxes, spilling hangers and magazines and other junk around
and on top of myself. I am able to straighten out and push myself
partway out, but I get stuck.
I start to feel panicky. I am prone to anxiety attacks in closed in
spaces, and I want out now. I try jerking forward, twisting, turning,
squirming, rocking and back and forth; and I only manage to more firmly
lodge myself in.
I'm now hyperventilating, and consider calling for help. Then I hear a
key unlocking the front door. Saved. It is only now, after feeling the
relief of being rescued, that my embarrassing position fully dawns on
me. My legs and bottom are sticking out from under the bed, while the
rest of me is hidden from view. I'm in that silly sailor's suit, with
my blue velvet shorts and thigh-high white socks on display. I hear the
click of her high heels coming towards me. Then silence.
"My, my, what have we here?"
"Please mommy, I'm stuck. Get me out," I plead, regressing to a little
boy needing mommy's help.
"What have naughty boys been up to while mommy was out? Hmmm? Mommy
can't leave you alone for two minutes, can she? Next time, I'll have to
get a baby-sitter for you. Maybe that nice teenage girl down the hall
would like to earn some spending money by keeping an eye on you when
mommy has to go out."
"I'm scared under here, please get me out mommy," I beg.
"What were you doing playing under mommy's bed when she wasn't home?
Were you trying to find some of mommy's sexy clothes? All you have to
do is ask and mommy will let you borrow a green babydoll nightie with
some pretty matching lime panties."
"Mommy, I was trying to find my big boy's clothes," I reply like a child
doing his darndest to sound all grown up.
"Awwhh, but liddle Justie looks so cute in his sailor suit," she baby-
talks to me. Then she changes her tone to a very stern mother. "You
have been very naughty, and must be taught a lesson. I won't have you
sneaking around *my* house, going through *my* things, and pulling
dangerous stunts that could get you hurt."
I can feel her grasp the legs of my shorts and tug. They are so tight
on me, they won't come down, so she fishes under my midsection and
unbuttons the shorts. I feel totally helpless, trapped like a snared
animal, gazing straight ahead into darkness, and feeling my mother
unclasping my shorts. I also feel relieved, knowing I am rescued. My
paniced feeling is gone. My mommy is here for me and all is safe. I
also feel aroused. I am mortified at being exposed and helplessly
trapped like this. I am also stimulated by the sensations of her fingers
unbuttoning my pants, as the full weight of my body presses down on her
hands, and forces the front of my shorts against her fingers.
Once my pants are unbuttoned, my mother grabs hold of the sides of the
sailor shorts. It is still no easy chore, but she forcefully pulls the
tight-fitting velvet sissy shorts past my hips, down my thighs and
calves, and leaves them around my ankles. Actually her not removing
them, leaves me feeling even more bound and secured.
Now my bare legs and underpants-covered bottom are fully exposed. The
deep feelings of vulnerability cause my already engorged member to fully
enlarge and stretch the already tight confines of my cotton briefs
beyond their limit. Why does humiliation have to have such a sexual
effect on me? That I respond sexually to the shame only adds an
additional layer of embarrassment on top of already feeling mortified.
What a curse. Or is the turn-on of the shame actually the only
pleasurable part of the whole ordeal?
WHACK! SMACK! "What am ..." SMACK "... I going..." SPANK ".. to do with..."
SLAP ".. such a naugh..." SPANK "...ty, little..." SMACK "... boy?" SMACK
SMACK SMACK "Do you promise me you'll behave yourself from now on?"
silent pause
SMACK "Do you?"
I meekly reply. "Yes, mommy."
"And you'll obey mommy from now on?"
"Yes, mommy."
"And you'll do *whatever* mommy says?"
Uh oh. I don't want to agree to that.
SPANK SMACK "*Whatever* mommy tells you, isn't that right, Justin?"
SPANK
Her hand is spanking a *lot* harder, and I would agree to just about
anything. "Yes mommy, I promise."
"Good sissy. Now wriggle your naughty little bottom for mommy to prove
you're going to be an obedient little son from now on."
I wriggle and rotate and shake my fanny as much as I am able, given the
confining circumstances. As I do, mommy wedgies my undies, causing my
dancing butt-cheeks to pop out of the white underpants. She then places
both her hands gently against my ass cheeks. As my fleshy bottom
wobbles around, it grazes against her fingers and palm. My shaking also
causes my throbbing underpants-contained cock to rub against the plush
carpet.
As if the bottom-to-hand sensual contact and the penis-underpants-rug
friction wasn't enough, my mother engages me in a frenzied, rapid-fire
dialogue.
Mommy: "Who's naughty?"
Justin: "I am."
Mommy: "Repeat after me ... I'm mommy's sissy son."
Justin: "I'm mommy's sissy son."
Mommy: "I'll always obey mommy."
Justin: "I'll always obey mommy."
Mommy: "Mommy knows what's best for me."
Justin: "Mommy knows what's best for me."
Mommy: "I was so silly to try and get away from mommy."
Justin: "I was so silly to try and get away from mommy."
Mommy: "Thank you for teasing my bottom, mommy."
Justin: "Thank you for teasing my bottom, mommy."
Mommy: "Thank you for teasing my bottom, mommy."
Justin: "Thank you for teasing my bottom, mommy."
Mommy: "Again!"
Justin: "Thank you for teasing my bottom, mommy!"
By this time I am crying hysterically. I have lost all control and I'm
heaving and sobbing. I have been broken. I am panting trying to catch
my breath.
She rests her right hand on my exposed bottom, then begins very rapidly
rubbing her fingertips back and forth across both cheeks. After a
minute or so of that, she takes her long fingernails and ever-so-lightly
scratches up and down the backs of my thighs. I am on the verge of
coming, as I continue to grind into the carpet.
Then she reaches under the bed and removes some of the items blocking my
escape route. She grasps my ankles and drags me out from under the bed.
I am so humiliated, I just take off for the living room without even
bothering to adjust my underpants or pull up my shorts. I must be quite
a sight as I shuffle past her, my shorts inhibiting my movement, and my
bouncing bottom almost completely displayed.
She calls out. "You're welcome." I'm not sure if her 'you're welcome'
is in response to helping me out from the bed, or the reply to my last
words, thanking her for teasing my bottom.
I am completely resigned to my fate. I am mommy's sissy son. It's not
that I am pussy whipped; it's more panty-whipped. The next night, I
crawl into mommy's bed under the pale pink sheets in a nightie that I
wore when I was thirteen. I haven't grown much during the last six
years, but enough that the already emasculating sleepwear is all the
more shameful. It consists of a pair of pale peach silk shorty-shorts
that are very high cut. The matching sleeveless top is cropped off to
expose my belly button.
Mommy comes out of her bathroom. She is wearing a chemise nightie. She
walks over to her dresser and reaches for a jar of moisturizing cream.
Her scoops out a generous portion and messages her hands together to
work the cream in. Her slippery hands make squishy noises that make me
ache for her to touch my cock. It's the same Pavlovian response as
hearing running water, then needing to pee. She goes back to the
dresser for a second scoop and in the quiet, dark room, the slushy
sounds are deafening.
I obsess on the sensation of those slippery hands fondling my penis. I
slowly wriggle under the covers as I imagine her greasy fingers petting
my shaft.
Mommy climbs under the same sheet, so we aren't separated as we were the
previous night. I am facing away from her, but she snuggles up close
and we lay in the spoon position, her arms wrapped around my waist. She
entangles her legs around mine. As I relax into it, it feels like an
octopus has enveloped its eight legs securely around my legs and
squeezed.
Mommy rubs her creamy fingers up my legs, beginning just above my knees
and ending at my shorty-shorts. She doesn't caress up and down, but
rather continuously treks up from knee to the tops of my thighs, removes
her fingers, and starts again at the knees. This technique results in a
feeling of energy ascending up towards my cock, but never reaching the
desired destination. It leaves me mad with sexual tension, and mommy
knows it.
I begin to squirm around with the hope that mommy will accidentally bump
into my penis. She's on to me, and slaps my thigh hard.
"You stop that naughtiness right now, young man. We can't have an
innocent evening of mother and son affection without you perverting it
into some lewd orgy. What is wrong with you, Justin? I am your mother,
not one of your college bimbos," mommy berates me.
Mommy remains spooned against me, but her magic fingers cease playing
with my legs. I am left horny. As I notice mommy's breathing change, I
slowly bring my fingers to my shorty-shorts. I slip my hand under the
elastic waistband and gently (so as not to disturb mommy) titillate my
dick. I can't help pumping quickly, and that awakens mommy.
"You little wanker! Are you getting all excited sleeping next to your
mommy? You're 19 years old! Honestly, I don't know what I am going to
do with you. You're nothing but a sissy who can't keep his hands off
his little dickie. Maybe it's my fault. Maybe I'm being too lenient
with you. I hoped you'd outgrown your childish pranks, but I was wrong.
Mommy thought that at 19 you could come back home and not act like a
naughty little panty-boy, but mommy gave you too much credit."
As she continues to belittle me, she pulls me out of bed. "Come on
sissy. You want to be close to mommy's clothes. You can be close to
mommy's clothes."
She opens the door to her closet and flings me in. Then she quickly
grabs a pair of discarded pantyhose and ties my wrists and my ankles.
She grabs my hog-tied ankles and lifts them up and secures them onto a
hook in the closet. This leaves me with my legs up in the air, but the
hook is low enough so that I'm not completely upside down. I am lying
on my back, it is just my legs that are up in the air.
I feel completely helpless as I hang there. Mommy gives a few rapid
tugs on my shorties to restimulate my cock. Then shuts the closet door
and leaves me and my blue balls in darkness.
Actually, the rest of the summer is surprising uneventful. There is a
continuation of the seductive teasing, a couple of over the knee
spankings, and a few other embarrassing moments. But nothing like the
"stuck-under-the-bed" episode. I think she knew she broke my spirit
that morning, and she didn't need to keep proving what she so clearly
established.
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