Punished by Mom II
      Submitted on 09/23/06


I couldn't sleep at all that night.

Well, I did, but sleep came in short, fitful gasps like a drowning man going 
under for the third time. Every time my eyes closed I soon felt the sharp 
tug of the Christmas ribbon that my mother had lovingly tied about my penis 
to keep me in check. If I moved, or if she moved even a little, rolling over 
or simply adjusting her arms unconsciously, the thin, tight ribbon bit into 
my groin and woke me with pain. And I dared not move myself for fear of my 
mother feeling the tug on the ribbon's opposite end, tied off to the 
bracelet on her left wrist. God help me if she woke up and thought that I 
was playing with myself.

So I laid there on the cold, carpeted floor at the side of my mother's bed, 
staring up into the darkness at the ceiling, and wondering what had happened 
to my life. It had started weeks ago when my mother had come home early from 
work one fine summer's day and caught me masturbating on the living room 
floor while I watched the women of one of the Home Shopping channels 
parading about the TV screen in their Birkenstocks. Mom was furious of 
course, and immediately set down new rules and regulations as to my 
behavior. I became little better than a servile drudge around the house 
after that. Mom's thinking was to keep me too busy to play with myself; 
little realizing that the dominant role she had assumed was simply fanning 
the fire of my fetish.

I both loved and hated being under her thumb. Most of the hate came from the 
fact that my summer break was under her control. The love of course came 
from the seeds already planted; our neighbor Bonnie wrestling me to the 
floor and making me lick her shoes and Mom's as well one night when they 
were both a little tipsy. That had hooked me, right through the balls, and 
now all that I could think of was my next encounter with their feet. Hell, 
any woman's feet.

It wasn't long before Bonnie's daughter Pam got into the act, making me 
service her gorgeous feet while she babysat me. Now Pam was barely my 
senior, a little over a year and a couple grades in school, but for some 
reason my parents held her in higher esteem and left her in charge when they 
wanted to go out. Little did they know how she abused me while they were 
gone. She has the Cell Phone pictures to prove it.

Unfortunately after that it got worse. My mother ran out of work, I was just 
too good at my cleaning, so she loaned me out to Bonnie and Pam. I literally 
slaved for the two of them, waiting on both hand and foot while I did their 
house and yard work. They beat me for my infractions, and teased me with 
their feet, but I was starting to love it, becoming lost in this strange new 
world of dominance and feet.

My greatest humiliation came just yesterday - by this telling - when Pam 
took me to the Mall and I was made to grovel at the feet of her friends, 
Tasha and Robin, right in the middle of the Mall's Food Circus, in full view 
of any and everyone who cared to watch. It was the worst, and the best, and 
of course all their precautions to keep me busy went by the wayside as I 
exploded into the pretty pink shorts that Bonnie had loaned me for the trip. 
Pam's friend Tasha had a passion for feet it seemed, and a natural affinity 
to dominate, and had me licking up the dirt and mashed French Fry at her 
feet under the Food Circus' table when I had my accident.

The bell saved me, however, as before they could punish me, Pam's mother 
called and told us to get home. My own mother had gotten off work and was 
waiting to pick me up. Pam led me from the Mall to applause and jeers, me 
flip-flopping along behind her in my borrowed feminine clothes and trying to 
hide the mess that I had made in my shorts. The whole drive home, Pam was 
worried that she would be punished. Nothing came of it though, for her at 
least. I on the other hand was in for it.

Mom took me back to our home and I spent the remainder of the evening making 
her happy; sniffing her smelly pumps and licking her feet. In the end she 
had made it clear that I was no longer to be trusted, and had a plan -

So here I lay, naked save for the thin ribbon tied tightly about my penis 
and connected to the bracelet she wore, to warn her if I got frustrated in 
the middle of the night. It hurt, but I was hard regardless, afraid to move 
or even doze off for fear of the repercussions that might follow.

DAY ONE

I woke with a gasp to feel a cold, hard wait on my bare chest. My eyes 
popped open and I thrashed about in confusion, wondering where I was and 
what was happening. The cold weight easily kept me pinned - to the floor I 
realized - and I heard a soft, happy giggling drifting down from above. 
Finally I calmed, remembering as I tried to focus in the dim light, looking 
up.

I saw the warm and smiling face of my mother looking down at me. She wore a 
wide grin, her brown hair looking dark as it framed her tilted face, lost in 
the shadows. Her eyes sparkled playfully as she smiled down, and I felt the 
weight on my chest shift just a bit, rubbing. It was her feet I finally 
realized as she had swung her legs out of bed to rest her chill soles on my 
bare chest.

"Good morning," she cooed, rubbing her feet over my skin. Her toes plucked 
at my nipples, bare and hard from the chill and touch of her soft flesh. She 
giggled again, watching as I bit my lower lip in frustration.

"Sleep well?" she asked, probably knowing that I hadn't. She on the other 
hand seemed refreshed and wide-awake, ready to take on a brand new day. I 
nodded-

"Yes, ma'am." She grinned even wider at that. She liked the respect.

Without a thought or hesitation, my mother slid her cold feet up my chest, 
pressing a bit as she passed my throat and finally settled both squarely 
over my face. The smell from the day before was gone, the stink that is. 
Maybe she washed her feet, or maybe the sheets had soaked up the odor or the 
cold had chased it away, but they smelled wonderful. I sniffed, long and 
loud and I heard my mother laugh as she wiggled her toes, scrunching them on 
my face.

"That's right baby," she said softly. "You like that don't you? Well, take a 
BIG sniff, and then kiss Mommy good morning."

She pressed her feet down and I did as I was told, sniffing hard at the 
soles of her feet. When she was satisfied, a little wiggle prompted me to 
kiss, and I did, making her happy and starting the day right.

Abruptly she pulled her feet up and out of reach, planting them on the floor 
beside me as she stood up. I stared up her long legs, licking my lips as she 
held the hem of her nighty close so that I could not get a free show. She 
smiled again when I looked to her face, then saw her remove her bracelet and 
toss it to the floor beside my head. It bounced, wobbling to rest as she 
stepped off and away towards the master bathroom door.

"You can take off the ribbon now. Then go and start the coffee. It's a 
beautiful day out by the look, so I'm going for a run after I clean up. 
Hurry up now."

Mom opened the door and disappeared into the room beyond. After a moment I 
heard the water running in the sink and quickly untied the knot of ribbon 
around my penis. I got to my feet then, staggering just a bit as I ran naked 
out of the room and towards the kitchen where I primed the coffeepot and got 
the coffee brewing. I was waiting patiently a few minutes later when she 
came strolling into the dining room.

Mom was dressed for running, looking sharp in her shorts and sports bra. She 
had her hair tied back in a tail, and had her accessories attached; watch, 
cell phone, heart meter, odometer, the works. She did not run regular, but 
when she did she went all out. She grinned widely to see me waiting at the 
kitchen table, standing naked and at attention with the coffeepot in hand 
and her favorite mug in place. She sat down and nodded that I could pour.

She sipped at her coffee and sighed in contentment, apparently happy with 
the pot that I had brewed. I watched and waited, afraid to break the current 
good cheer and soon felt the rough canvas of her running shoe scratching 
along the side of my leg. I bit back a whimper and glanced her way, only to 
find her grinning at me.

"I won't be too long," she said, taking another sip from her mug. She 
settled back in the kitchen chair and recrossed her legs. "While I'm gone, 
make yourself useful. Wipe down the countertops and appliances in here. They're 
filthy again."

They weren't. I had just cleaned the kitchen thoroughly a couple days ago. 
She was just making busy work for me.

"Then you can go to my bathroom and clean up there. I made a mess." She 
giggled and got up, strolling to the fridge. Opening the door she withdrew a 
water bottle. "You've got an hour," she said, popping the cap on the bottle, 
then twisting it tight again. "Do the right thing."

I nodded, watching her ass sway as she stepped lightly from the room. After 
a couple moments I heard the front door open, close and lock. I sighed, 
sagging in relief to be alone again. I hung my head at the solitude, if only 
for a minute. I had work to do.

***

I was on my knees scrubbing the base of the toilet in my mother's bathroom 
when I heard the front door open and close. I listened closely as I heard 
low talking, then singing I surmised coming from the living room. Mom 
singing along with the Walkman, some happy tune. I went back to work.

I had recleaned the kitchen as ordered - it didn't take too long. As I 
suspected it was not that dirty in just a couple days. After that I went 
into my mother's bathroom and started cleaning there. She had said that she 
had made a mess, but it wasn't so bad really. I gathered up her nighty, 
scrubbed out the sink that had toothpaste drippings in it and then started 
in on the tub and toilet.

Before long I heard footsteps as someone came into my mother's room, and I 
glanced back to see her standing in the doorway of the bath. She was looking 
about the room, inspecting my work, I assumed, and eventually her eyes 
rested on me. She looked good in her running clothes, a thin sheen of 
perspiration making her body glow. Her hair was damp and slicked back, still 
tied back in a ponytail. She was fastening the cap onto the top of her water 
bottle, and seeing the last swallows left, I licked my lips, realizing just 
how thirsty I was.

"Not bad, boy. You always were a good little maid. Better than your sister 
in fact." She smiled, setting the bottle out of my line of sight on the 
dresser, then turning and walking to her bed. Sitting down, she called me 
over with a snap of her fingers.

I put my scrub brush down and crawled out of the bathroom, placing my hands 
in front of me, and then wiggling my knees forward as best as I could, 
planting my forehead to the floor at her feet. I had inched across the 
carpet, an odd looking worm, until I was kneeling before her. She was 
dabbing at her sweaty body with a towel, and her sandy brown hair hung 
loosely at her shoulders now, undone and shaken out from the tail. She 
looked down at me, wiping under her chin as she spoke.

"I want to understand why you did this, Bil- boy, so I want you to answer me 
frankly and honestly. I knew there were men out there who liked their women 
to be.In control. Hell, your father likes sex a little kinky from time to 
time, and I even enjoyed it too. But I've never actually seen it taken to 
the extreme that you seem to enjoy. It's sick, I think. And I think you're 
sick too, but we are going to cure you of this, while you work off your debt 
to me. The respect you've lost."

My mother continued wiping down her body as she spoke, and I felt ill as I 
realized that I was getting more than a little excited as I watched her. Was 
she right? Was I really some sick and twisted pervert who got off on foot 
worship and dominance, and with my own mother? It couldn't be. I closed my 
eyes shut tight and put my forehead to the floor so I could not look at her 
any more. A moment later, I felt her shoe on the back of my head, holding it 
down.

"Hmm.I like that. Is this what you want? Bowing down at my feet?"

"No." I whimpered, but I could not move. "I don't want to be a slave. It's 
just. I can't." I did not know what to say, how to tell her that looking at 
her was getting me excited.

Slap!

I felt the belt stroke across the length of my back and screamed in shock 
and pain. I had not even seen it, and assumed that she must have had it 
hidden behind her when I crawled into the room. That it was Dad's belt, I 
had no doubt.

"Do not lie to me, boy."

She kept her foot on the back of my head, pressing my face into the carpet 
as she chastised me. I moaned, trying to hold back a fresh flow of tears.

Crack!

My mother sighed, taking her foot from my head and placing both feet on 
either side of me on the floor. There was a long silent moment as she 
considered something, then she edged her left foot under my nose. The smell 
of her running shoe- the canvas and leather, mixed with the smell of her 
sweat was intoxicating.

"Kiss my shoe," she said it so casually, as though it were something in 
normal conversation, like take out the trash. I hesitated, staring at the 
tight gray laces holding the shoe tightly on her foot. She had a small foot. 
I had never noticed before.

Crack!

I felt the lash of the belt again, and I jerked forward, jamming my face 
into her shoe.

"Kiss it!" she ordered again, and I planted a light peck on the toecap. It 
was not as bad as I had expected.

"Again. And this time, so I can feel it."

I kissed my mother's shoe for some time, maneuvering about on my hands and 
knees so I could get at the outside, heel and instep. All the while she 
spoke to me, telling me how sick this was, and how perverted I was to be 
doing it, and enjoying it. Eventually I inched my way too high, and my lips 
brushed against the skin of her ankle. I quickly felt the belt across my 
back, and I whimpered, putting my face to the carpet. A second later, her 
other foot was sliding under my face, and I was commanded to continue with 
that shoe. I did, and she continued to demean me.

At one point, my mother leaned back onto her elbows on the bed and raised 
the sole of her shoe to my lips.

"Lick the dirt from my sole. Show me how much you love and adore the lowest 
part of my body. Realize that you are not even worthy to touch my skin, but 
only to lick the filth from what I wear on my feet, and only that part of 
the shoe that touches the ground where I walk. What you've done has made you 
less than a person. Less than an animal. I wouldn't even let my dog lick the 
bottoms of my shoes."

My mother talked down to me as I cleaned the soles of her shoes. They were 
black from the school track where she ran almost every day if she had the 
time, and there was sand and grit in the grooves, which I was commanded to 
remove and swallow. I grimaced, but did as I was told. What else could I do?

When she was satisfied with that phase of my humiliation, she pulled her 
feet away and leaned forward again. I could feel her eyes boring holes into 
the back of my head as I knelt before her. I wondered what new shame she was 
considering for me next.

"Undo the laces of my shoes," she purred softly, her voice breathy. "Use 
your teeth."

I bit the lace of her shoe and pulled, undoing the bow. I then nibbled at 
the knot, and eventually pulled it loose as well. She then thrust her other 
shoe under my nose, and I repeated the exercise. When the shoes were loose 
on her feet, my mother raised her leg and positioned the heel of her shoe on 
the back of my head. With a 'shish', I heard the shoe pop free. It fell to 
the floor beside my head even as I felt my mother's right foot replace the 
left. Soon that shoe was also on the floor, and my mother's stinking, 
stocking-clad foot was in my face, the toes prying at my lips.

"Pull off my socks."

I gripped first one stocking, then the other in my teeth and pulled them 
from her feet. They smelled of leather and sweat, far worse than the shoes, 
and I was assailed with a fresh reminder of the earlier odor of the day 
before, magnified a hundredfold. I wrinkled my nose in disgust, spitting the 
socks to the floor.

"Don't like that, baby?" my mother asked. "I thought that was part of your 
sick little fantasies. Did Bonnie's feet smell sweeter than mine, boy? How 
about Pam's?"

Mother leaned forward and scooped up her socks from the floor. She dangled 
them before my face for a moment, then rolled them into a tight ball.

"Open up," she ordered me to open my mouth, and as I looked up in shock and 
disgust, I saw the stocking balled in one hand, and the belt in the other. 
Reluctantly, I opened my mouth.

"Good boy." She mocked me, stuffing the socks deeply into my mouth. I gagged 
in reflex, as the material was crammed against the back of my throat, and 
again as the smell and taste hit my senses.

"Suck."

She positioned her running shoes below my face after she was happy with the 
way that I was sucking on her stockings, then forced my head down into the 
insides of one shoe. It was still warm, and damp with a musty odor of sweat 
lingering on the insole. It was almost overpowering. She ordered me to sniff 
while I sucked on her socks, and finally draped her sweaty towel over my 
head, encasing me with both smelly shoes under the damp terry cloth. I 
sensed her rise from the bed and step around me.

"I'm going to take a shower now, boy. I want you to clean my socks while I'm 
gone, and they better be spotless when I return. And I want you to enjoy the 
smell of my feet, as well as the taste, so you keep sniffing my shoes while 
I'm gone too. You better be there, just like that when I get back, or you'll 
get another taste of the belt on your ass."

I heard the bathroom door close, and a few moments later the water of the 
shower began to spray. I did not know how long I had to clean her 
socks.fifteen minutes, maybe twenty. I sucked for all I was worth, sniffing 
loudly on the off chance that this was just a trick, and she might be 
watching me. I did not want another strapping.

***

I was still in position when I heard the bathroom door open behind me. I had 
not heard the shower stop, but I assumed that my mother had finished 
cleaning up as I sensed her footfalls as she stepped past me. She moved 
about the room in silence as I continued to suck on her socks and sniff her 
smelly shoes, though I seemed to be getting used the foul taste and odor. I 
heard the bed creak as she sat down on the edge, then felt a thump on my 
head as she kicked me lightly to get my attention.

"Boy." she said to my still towel covered head. "I want you to count to 100, 
slowly, then crawl into my bathroom and deposit my socks in the clothes 
hamper. I'll inspect them later. I then want you to place my running shoes 
neatly in the closet and retrieve my sport sandals. You will carry them in 
your teeth, being careful not to cause any indentations, and crawl out into 
the living room to join me where you will continue your chores."

I sensed my mother rise and step to the door, where she added- "Oh, and make 
sure that towel is still over your head when you join me too. Begin!" And 
she left.

I started counting out loud, somehow knowing that that was what was 
expected. "Unnh-unnh-oww-unh.ooo-unnh-oww-unh." and so on. It was hard, with 
the socks wadded up in my mouth, and with every number I wished that I had 
the balls to just quit. That was the root of it all, I supposed. I was 
scared. Scared of the beating I would no doubt receive if I rebelled, or 
tried to escape and failed. Scared that Mom would toss me out of the house 
for my perversions, or worse: tell Dad.

I sighed, defeated for the moment and finished counting. I then went through 
the motions of the rest of my little chores. It seemed like a trick one 
might teach to a dog, though only a little more complicated and degrading. 
It was a little hard moving about and keeping the towel in place, but I 
managed, and was eventually crawling into the living room with my mother's 
sport sandals hanging loosely from my mouth.

"Here, boy." I heard my mother call, patting her leg. Calling me like a dog. 
I heard her laugh.

After some disorientation, I finally came across my mother's bare feet and 
stopped before her. I stared at her painted toes, wiggling before me until 
the towel was snatched away from over my head. I glanced up, her shoes still 
in my mouth, wondering what to do next, and received a quick thump on the 
back of my head for my stupidity.

"Put the shoes down, boy," she commanded, and I obeyed, placing them at her 
feet and adjusting them to give her easier access. That was not good enough 
for her, however, as she raised one dainty foot before my face.

"Slip them on," she ordered, wiggling her toes again, and I did, one foot, 
then the other. Finally satisfied with my performance, she crossed one leg 
over the other and dangled a foot right in front of my face. Despite my 
humiliating position (or because of it, I was starting to suspect), I felt 
my erection start to grow again. A swift kick to the side of my head 
returned my attention to my mother. She stood up and stepped behind me.

"I thought you were doing well, boy. But I can see that I was mistaken. This 
is all still exciting you, so we'll have to work on that. You're deriving 
some type of pleasure out of this, which is obviously displayed between your 
legs, so what we're going to do is this: Each time you get an erection from 
something that I make you do, you will be whipped. The idea behind that, 
boy, in case you were wondering is so that you will start to associate pain 
with whatever pleasure you're imagining. Before long, the very thought of 
getting an erection will remind you of the belt, and your penis will shrivel 
up and hide rather than come to attention. That's the theory anyway. It 
works on mice and dogs and other dumb animals. It should, therefore, work on 
you."

I heard mom laugh as the belt slammed down on my naked ass again. I screamed 
and lunged forward, falling prostrate at her feet. She did not seem to mind 
or care as she whipped that belt down again and again, five quick shots that 
had me crying and begging for her to stop. Oddly, she did, just as quickly 
as she started.

"Did you like that?" she asked, sliding her foot up so that it was touching 
my head. I whimpered out a 'no' but she did not seem to hear. "Is that part 
of your little fantasy? You want your women to beat you? We can, no 
problem."

"No," I cried into the carpet. "Please."

"What was that?"

"No."

"I can't hear you," she said as she slid her sandaled foot under my face. I 
started to kiss her toes, licking her sandal for all I was worth.

"I thought that's what you said."

Mom laughed and settled back onto the sofa, allowing me to degrade myself at 
her feet, for her pleasure for some time. I was more than happy to do it.

***

I was on my knees later, hours later I think, after I had served her both 
lunch and dinner, and was massaging my mother's tired feet while she relaxed 
and read the evening paper when the phone rang. I kept massaging and kissing 
and licking as she set the paper aside and picked up the phone -

"Hello?"

"Oh god. I was going to call you."

"Really? When? Wonderful!"

"No, not a problem at all. In fact, I have something to show you when you 
get here."

"No, I'll show you then. It's a surprise. Okay. See you soon."

Mom hung up the phone and laughed as she looked at me. I glanced up and saw 
a perverse grin there where there used to be only love. She had some new 
torture I knew, but just what she was cooking up now I had no idea, nor who 
that was on the phone. By the sound of it, whoever it was would be there 
soon enough. I just had to endure, and wait.

***

It was maybe an hour later when I heard the doorbell ring.

I was on my knees still, but now busy at work and licking the insoles of my 
mother's sports sandals while she rested her feet on my back. She was 
relaxed beyond belief, almost dozing as she read a paperback novel, nodding 
more than reading I think, with her ankles crossed and her legs stretched 
out over me. I felt her jerk slightly as the bell chimed again. Maybe she 
had been asleep.

Mom hoisted up her feet and planted them on the floor in front of me. She 
thumped me in the forehead, and as I backed away she slipped her toes into 
the sports sandals, saying, "Get that, stupid."

I turned, almost getting up then thinking better of it. I crawled across the 
living room carpet to the door, kneeling on the tiled area there in front as 
I reached up and undid the two locks and chain. I wobbled back a bit, 
turning the knob and swinging the door wide.

I heard a sharp intake of breath followed quickly by laughter.

I blushed red as I glanced downward, the outer screen door opening and 
someone stepping into the house. A heavy overnight bag thumped to the ground 
beside me as I stared at the pair of dirty black flip-flops in front of my 
face. Toes wriggled before me, the nails sparkling pink and a silver ring 
shining on the second. I licked my lips, then bit my lower lip as I chanced 
a glance skyward, already suspecting the worst.

I looked up and up the forever-long legs clad in flair leg, worn and 
tattered denim, past the round, belted hips and the flash of skin to the 
short tee shirt that barely held the breasts in check. I saw an all too 
familiar face staring down at me and grinning from ear to ear. It was a 
beautiful face - to me - and slightly reminiscent of my mother's, framed by 
sandy, shoulder-length hair that feathered around the edges. The face bobbed 
a bit as she giggled, big hoop earrings dangling as she laughed.

It was my sister; Jennifer.

"Hiya, bro."

She laughed again, and somehow I knew that she was not there to rescue me.

To be continued.

Story © Carnaj 2006