Humiliated by Mommy part 3
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Humiliated By Mommy Part 6 free porn video
Humiliated by Mommy by Naughtieboys [email protected]
© Julian Smith and Em-bare-assed Press 1999-2001. Revised 2014.
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
complete and include the copyright notice. Archiving and reposting of
this story UNMODIFIED is permitted provided that no fee is charged,
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Humiliated by Mommy by Naughtieboys
CHAPTER 6 Doing Hard Time in Panty Prison
I am back in what I call "panty prison." Panty prison is a state of mind
in which mommy keeps me in a constant state of arousal through
"accidental" teasing, frustrating my attempts to relieve my sexual
tension; humiliating and embarrassing me in ways that are always
associated with sexual stimulation; and inexplicably, I am always begging
for more.
I am treated like a naughty little sissy. I have to keep my legs
hairless and my toenails painted bright red. Most days I am dressed as a
sissy, but every so often I am dressed as a girl. I stay home almost all
the time because I am too embarrassed to venture out into the world in
such feminine or juvenile attire.
When mommy goes to work I clean the house and do other chores. On the
weekends, with mommy supervising, I do laundry. A ritual that started
during my early teen years, has to do with me hand washing mommy's
unmentionables. The ritual was always the same with only minor
variations.
Saturday morning, mommy wakes me at 5 a.m. I change into a pair of
orange cheerleader panties. They have a small white megaphone
embroidered over my right butt cheek. I put on a pair of Playtex pink
rubber gloves. Mommy reminds me (with a hard swat to my behind) that I
forgot to put on my apron before I put on the gloves. She grabs my arm
and drags me into the bathroom. Mommy takes out a disposable, white,
plastic apron and ties it tightly around my waist. The apron has a loop
that goes over my head. It falls about six inches above my knees. It
leaves my pantied ass exposed, and although it is white, it is see-
through.
After a few more strategically placed slaps to the back of my legs and
panties, mommy pushes me in the direction of her bedroom. I thoroughly
search her room--under the bed, in the back of her closet, and on the
floor--for any discarded items of lingerie. I report back to the bathroom
with any underthings I find.
I reach into the laundry hamper and pull out a few items at a time and
drop them into the suds-filled sink. As mommy stands over me,
criticizing that I missed a spot, I hand scrub her slips, babydolls,
teddies, bras, and panties. As I wash mommy's lingerie, the laundry
hamper slowly empties. I don't remember the first time the next part of
the game evolved, but it has become a classic shame game. Mommy asks if
that's it. I emphatically state that that's the last of it. Mommy looks
in the hamper, and then directs an angry expression my way.
I reach way into the bottom of the hamper, and as I'm leaning down into
it, stretching for one last panty, mommy nudges me and I tip over, head
first, into the hamper. The sturdy plastic laundry hamper is like a
garbage bin. I don't fall all the way in, but rather my stomach rests on
the side of the hamper. I teeter on the edge of it, with my head way
down in it and my legs up in the air.
Mommy helps to balance me, so that I don't fall in. At the same time, I
brace myself up with my hands on the bottom of the hamper.
Mommy berates me, "I thought you said you got them all? Can't you do
anything right? You're just a silly sissy, aren't you?"
My answer echoes up from the hamper, "Yes, mommy."
"Well, since you're already in there, why don't you wash that last pair
in the hamper? Here, mommy will help you."
Mommy gets a bucket from under the sink. She squirts bubble-bath into
the bucket. Then she turns on the faucet and fills the bucket with
water. She dumps the sudsy water over my feet. The water (I never know
if the water is going to be frigid or scalding, but it's never in
between) rushes down my legs, over my panties, across my chest, and
cascades into the bottom of the hamper. As I frantically scrub the
panties in the soapy water, mommy goes back for another bucket-full.
Again, I don't know what temperature the water will be. When we first
started this ritual, she used to alternate, but she caught on that I
could anticipate, so now she randomly chooses. Today, I am tormented by
three icy-cold dousings before a burning-hot one shocks me.
It's difficult to keep my mind on my chore as the water splashes over me,
but if I don't hurry, I fear I'll drown. (I know mommy wouldn't let that
happen, but I have had the water-line rise up to my nose).
Mommy starts spanking my upturned wet panty-covered ass. SPANK "I give
you a nice home ..." SMACK "and you can't do ..." SLAP "a simple chore."
SPANK "You can't even ..." SMACK "clean mommy's panties." SPANK
I finally finish cleaning the panties. Mommy helps me out of the hamper.
I take a basket full of the damp undies out into the backyard. We do
this so early in the morning, so I can be out in the backyard undetected.
Our backyard can be seen by our next door neighbors, and is slightly
visible to the street in front of our house.
I am barefoot, and clad only in the orange cheer panties, which are
soaking wet from the laundry hamper escapade. Even though it is summer,
the sun is just coming up. I am shivering as I pin each item on the
clothesline.
I must confess, this is one of my favorite punishments. Being outside in
just panties, fondling mommy's silky panties as I hang them up, and the
fact that the panties I'm in are slippery from the bubble-bath; gives me
a rush. My cock is peeking out of the orange panties. I squirm around as
I reach up to pin a lace teddy up on the line. I wriggle as I bend down
to get the next item from the basket.
I am pulled out of my reverie as I hear a women's voice. "Justin, is
that you? Justin Johnson, are you home visiting your mother?"
I turn my head, but not my whole body, to see Mrs. Ledger. "Umm, yes,
Mrs. Ledger, it's me. I moved back here ... for a while."
"My goodness," she exclaimed, "I haven't seen you since you were a high
schooler."
Mrs. Ledger has lived next door to us since I was in grade school. She
was always extremely friendly, although intrusively nosey. As she
hurries over from her lawn, I notice she doesn't look a day older than
the last time I saw her. Although she was never the glamorous type like
my mother, she was (and still is) very attractive. Kind of an older Meg
Ryan/girl-next-door type. Very cute.
"Well look at you, Justin," Mrs. Ledger remarks. "You must be helping
your mother with her laundry. And those orange Speedos you're wearing
are quite something. Guys don't dress like that around here, but hey,
you're a California boy now, huh?"
I am relieved that she mistakes the panties for a Speedo. "Yeah," I
agree with whatever she just said. My head is spinning from all this.
Why doesn't she just go away now? She seems to be gawking at me in this
skimpy outfit.
"Would you be a dear and help me with one thing really quickly. It'll
just take a minute, and I'd be so grateful."
"Gee Mrs. Ledger..."
"Rene, please call me Rene. After all we're both adults now, aren't we?"
Not taking no for an answer, Mrs. Ledger, uh Rene, takes me by the hand
and swiftly walks back to her property, chatting all the way. "Little
Justie from next door. I can't believe how much you've grown. Just look
at you! When did you get back? You've been home and you haven't
stopped in to say hi to your old neighbor Rene? The messes you used to
get in. Remember the time the bullies were chasing you because you were
trick or treating in a cheerleader costume? You ran up to me as I was
going out to a costume party. I was all dolled up as a southern belle,
and I hid you under my hoop skirt. Wasn't that a time!"
Why did she have to bring up that cheerleader's costume? My mother made
me wear that thing. Did I ever get teased because of that. I feel
stupid realizing that I'm wearing cheerleader's panties right now.
"Now Justin, I want you to crawl under the house. I think the foundation
may be cracking, and I want you to just give a quick inspection. There's
an opening round the side--over there."
I can't wait to get this over with, so I eagerly get down on all fours
and pry myself into the small opening. I manage to get my head through
and look around. It looks nasty in there--dark, damp, buggy, and dirty.
I just hope there aren't any critters running around under there. I
squeeze half of my body through, but get stuck.
I tell Rene, I'm stuck, and she tries to assist by pushing me. Of
course, all that's within her reach to push on is my pantied ass.
"Justin, these swimming trunks of yours are soaked. You're going to
catch your death of cold."
"I'm OK Mrs. Ledger, just help me out of here."
Rene pushes, pulls, tugs, and even puts her shoulder to me, but all to no
avail. I'm stuck.
"Justin, I can't let you freeze out here in those wet ... Justin, what's
that megaphone doing on the back of your swimming trucks? Justin, are
you wearing panties? Cheerleading panties?"
I feel the panties being pulled away from my body, and her fingers
pulling on the tag inside the back of the panties. She reads out loud
from the label: "Size 5. Spankie pants. 50% nylon, 50% spandex."
"Spankie pants? Spankie pants! Justin these are cheerleading panties.
You're wearing cheer panties and making me think you're in Speedos. You
let me go on making a fool of myself, while you knew full well you were
wearing 'Spankie pants'. Well, I'll give you 'spankie pants' alright.
Here's 'spankie pants'.
And with that, Mrs. Ledger proceeds to spank my orange spankie pants.
After a few minutes of my neighbor smacking my butt, I fall forward into
the dank space underneath her house. Now I'm covered in mud. I managed
to crawl out of the hole without getting stuck again.
Rene glares at me. "Don't you think you owe me an apology, Justin."
"I'm sorry Mrs. Ledger," I meekly reply.
"Very well then, let's say no more about it. But we need to get you
inside. You're shivering and a muddy mess."
I follow Mrs. Ledger up to the front door where she pauses. "Justin, we
can't have you traipsing mud all through my clean house. ... I know,
stand over there."
I back up a bit. She gets the garden hose and turns on the water. I
stand there shivering while freezing cold water blasts me. Mrs. Ledger
giggles as she puts her thumb in the nozzle to increase the force of the
stream of water. She immensely enjoys spraying me up and down, has me
turn around as she takes aim at my butt, and even walks towards me, to
really get my ass good.
She roughly spins me around and pulls on the front of my cheer-panties to
peek in.
"Uh oh, muddy willie," she sing-songs.
Rene sticks the hose in the front of my orange undies while maintaining
eye contact. A Mona Lisa smirk accompanies her intense eye-lock. I am
mortified beyond words. I wish I could crawl back under the house and
hide.
Rene isn't done and forces the nozzle deeper into my panties and up and
under my balls to shoot the ice water on my ultra-sensitive premium,
between my balls and anus. My deep shame turns to shock as pain surges
through my body. She finishes the tour of my privates by twisting her
wrist causing her hand (which is inside my panties) to brush against my
balls and the flow of freezing water to alternate from my balls to my
anus. Finally she removes the hose.
I feel like an animal. I am shivering cold and dripping wet. I run up
to her front door, and as I run past her she gives me a playful swat on
my butt.
"Don't you dare go in there yet, Justin Johnson. I don't want you
dripping water on my nice, clean floors."
She runs into the house and comes out with a robe. It is a pink, shorty
robe. She wraps it around me, then rubs it vigorously against my skin to
warm me. She reaches under the robe and, before I can object, yanks down
my panties.
"I'm going to pop these into the dryer, and they'll be toasty warm in no
time."
She leaves me on the front steps, in a robe that barely covered my
privates. When she returns, she escorts me into her home. I am thankful
to be inside.
"Here." Rene hands me a pair of panties. "We can't have you scampering
around my house naked. What would the neighbor's think?"
I laugh at her joke, then it hits me. My mother. She'll wonder where I
am. I should have finished hanging up the wash long ago.
"I've got to go Mrs. Ledger, mommy will be worried about me." I explain
as I am slipping her panties up my legs. I hand her the robe and run
off.
As I leave the house I hear her say, "Mommy? You still call her
'mommy'?"
As I run back in my house, mommy quizzically looks at the strange panties
I'm wearing. I hadn't had time to examine them, but now as I do, I see
they are neon purple cotton briefs. A safety pin attached a small piece
of paper to the front. It reads: "Please return to Rene".
My mother cracks up after reading the note. Even though I find it
disconcerting that she doesn't asks for an explanation, I am also
relieved.
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