Humiliated by Mommy part 3
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Humiliated By Mommy Part 4 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 4 Coming mother
I had been seeing Dr. Masterson for about three months. I was now
seeing her five times a week. My mother sends me a check every Monday
to cover that week's sessions--$600 for the five 50 minute meetings.
Mother and I would talk infrequently on the phone, but she would never
pry into what was going on in the therapy. Except for one incident, she
was acting like a "normal" mom.
When I mentioned I recently broke my last glass, she said she'd send me
a "care package" with some glasses and some other things that she said
she was sure I would absolutely cherish. About a week later, a large
package arrives and I excitedly open it. As I pull out the glasses, I
am shocked to discover that they are wrapped in panties. Young girlie
cotton white panties, very adult sexy thongs, teenager's teeny bikini
panties with pink roses decorating them, silk green string bikinis, tiny
tiger-striped undies, and various other panties of all styles
imaginable. One pair in particular had an immediate effect on me. It
was a plum pair of soft velvet high rise briefs.
They were so velvety smooth I had to try them on right then and there.
I quickly strip off my pants and underpants and pull them up. I have an
erection that aches. The phone rings and I grab it without thinking.
It's my mother. How does she time these things?
"Hi Justin, it's mommy. Did you get the package I sent you?"
"Yeah, as a matter of fact I was just unpacking it."
"So... do you just adore the little surprise I put in there?"
I am angry and go on the attack, "No mom, I don't appreciate the
panties. I thought you had stopped all this nonsense..." My voice trails
off as I feel so incongruous, yelling at her about the panties, while I
am standing there wearing the sexiest pair of the lot. I also become
aware that I am absentmindedly stroking myself. The velvet is
intoxicating, and I can't keep my hands off it.
"Justin," she exclaimed angrily. "Those panties were just to protect the
glasses from breaking in shipping. I know how ecologically minded you
are so I didn't buy the Styrofoam peanuts the clerk was trying to sell
me when I bought the box. The surprise is in an envelope. You are
going to feel quite the fool when you realize you falsely accused me of
wrong doing." Click.
She hung up. I dig in the box and find the envelope. In it is the
usual check made out to my therapist, but along with it is another check
made out to me for $1000. There is also a note:
Dear son,
You've been working so hard at college and in therapy. I thought you
deserved a treat. Spend it anyway you'd like.
Always be a good boy,
Your loving mother.
Well, she was right. I feel terrible. Here she sends me a thousand
dollars and I had been attacking her. I look up at the clock and I see
it's almost time for my therapy session. Damn, I wanted to jerk off in
these velvet panties. It'll have to wait till I get back. I throw my
jeans on over the plum panties and race off to Dr. Masterson's.
The discussion I had with my mother was on my mind, so naturally it was
the topic of my therapy session. Dr. Masterson points out that I chose
to wear the velvet panties, nobody forced me. My mother didn't twist my
arm to try on the panties. I acted out of my own free will. I was too
embarrassed to tell her that I was still wearing them.
Dr. Masterson tells me to close my eyes. She gently leads me through a
deep relaxation exercise. I am once again under mild hypnosis.
She says, "You know, Justin, you really do blame your mother for your
own little sexual fetishes, don't you?"
"Yes, doctor," I compliantly respond. What Dr. Masterson said makes a
lot of sense to me.
"Why don't you just own up to what you desire. Tell me some of the
things that make your dickie nice and hard."
"I li-like pa-pan-pan-ties," I stutter.
"Justin, you seem so nervous, why don't you just lie on the couch."
I walk over to the leather couch and lie back on it.
"No Justin. Do I look like Freud? Lie face down, that way you'll feel
really relaxed."
I roll over onto my stomach.
"Now Justin, keep your eyes closed but slip down your pants."
Under the hypnosis, it seems like the most natural thing in the world to
do. I pull down my pants and just let my body feel the cool leather of
Dr. Masterson's couch. I also feel my velvet panties against my cock.
I feel foolish wearing the panties in her office, but she doesn't say a
word about it.
"Justin, pretend mommy is here and admit to mommy that she's not to
blame. It's you who loves panties and all your other nasty fetishes."
I feel a bit shy about saying it in front of Dr. Masterson, but I take a
deep breathe and begin, "I'm sorry mommy for blaming you for my own
perversions. I love panties. I get so turned on by the feel of silky
panties I can hardly stand it. And I crave being humiliated by women."
I'm getting so turned on saying all this I realize I am humping the
luxurious leather sofa. The smell of the leather fills my nostrils. My
engorged cock is being teased unmercifully by the velvety panties as I
squirm on top of the black couch. I can feel a hand ever-so lightly
encouraging my rear-end to continue its rhythmic gyrations.
I'm hyperventilating as I feel the hand increasing its pressure against
my bottom. "I'M SORRY MOMMY. I'M A BAD BOY AND I DESERVE TO BE
PUNISHED FOR FALSELY ACCUSING YOU," I holler.
"Tell your mommy you'd do anything to make it up to her," Dr. Masterson
suggests.
"I'd do anything to make it up to you mommy," I parrot back.
"Like move back home, so you can be a good son and obey mommy."
I hesitate. It feels like some kind of trap, but then I realize this is
just therapy and it is the catharsis that's important. "To make it up
to you mommy, I wish I could move back home with you and be a good boy
and obey you at all times."
By now, the hand was slapping against my velvet-covered ass. I'm so
close to coming, I'm sure I'm past the point of no return.
"Then it's all set," the good doctor calmly concludes.
I freeze. The voice comes from across the room, yet the hand is still
lightly spanking my bottom. I cock my head around as I open my eyes, to
see my mother. She is smiling that grin of hers--that Mona Lisa
expression communicates that she has me exactly where she wants me. Her
hand methodically continues raining down on my rump. I feel a sinking
feeling in my gut.
She finally speaks, "I see you actually did appreciate what I wrapped
the glasses in."
As I put things together, I ask, "But I just talked to you on the phone.
How did you get here?"
"I called you from Dr. Masterson's office. ... And mommy is so glad to
hear you are finally taking responsibility for all your little panty
hang-ups. I'll be so happy to have you back home and obedient, and
mommy is going to try and accommodate you by humiliating you as often as
mommy can, since that's what you desire so much."
I just groan. I involuntarily resume humping the couch as the spanks
have turned to gentle taps interspersed with fanny rubs. The sensation
of the rubbing is incredible. Mommy's soft hand against the velvet
panties causes me to lose any resolve I had about fighting back. I'm
back under her spell. That magic potion of sensuous fabrics, teasing
caresses, and vulnerable exposure.
My tormentress says, "Mommy doesn't want to do anything baby-kins
doesn't want, so mommy will just go home alone if you want. But, if you
want to come home with mommy, then you just come in your little panties
right now and mommy will take you home and turn you into a little
sissy."
It's my last chance. I can escape. If I can just hold back, I can save
myself a lifetime of humiliation. But mommy has gathered the back of
the velvet panties in her fingers and wedgies my panties up the crack of
my butt. She teasingly scratches my fanny with her fingernails. My
hips vigorously shake, as I wildly hump the couch in spastic irregular
jerks. I don't stand a chance. I spurt stream after stream of cum into
my panties.
Mommy says, "Now thank Dr. Masterson for all she's done for you."
"Thank you Dr. Masterson," I reluctantly and unenthusiastically respond.
I walk out of there for the last time, with mommy firmly grasping my
hand.
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