Your mom’s clothing decides you’ve asked enough questions.

Suddenly, a wad of your mother's used pantyhose climbs up onto the bed. Realizing now that talking was only going to make things worse, you only wait on, anxious of what was going to happen next. The hosiery actually ball up and **** themselves into your mouth. Breathing through your nose now, you were alone with your thoughts.

‘’They’ve got me bound, naked, and gagged. I hope this isn't leading to what I think it is.’’

The situation was going to get more complicated than you expected--yet you weren’t going to terribly mind.

A black leather pump with a kitten heel flew onto your lap and hovered up with its toe against your waist. When you tried to look down for a better look, you were pushed back onto the bed. The white isotoners grab your manhood in soft leathery fingers as the black shoe dances up you stomach, but now a long pair of black satin gloves are stroking your cheeks, pushing your head back when you try to raise it. Your gaze is **** back to the ceiling.

Like as if the shoe itself was walking on top of you, you could feel it taking slow steps before reaching your neck. This was by no means turning you on; you were still flaccid--despite the attention of enchanted leather.

But that was also soon to change...

Now you could see the leather kitten heel just inside your field of gaze. As the gloves stroking your cheeks move slower and make their touch lighter, the lovely, shined shoe overturns, placing the opening of the heel directly over your nose.

All you can smell is the leather, your mother's stinky feet, and nothing else. The smell is so strong that you try to move your nose away, but the shoe pushes against you tighter and the gloves hold you in place, not giving even an inch. For some time, the gloves and shoe keep you there.

Before long you’re **** to face your own thoughts. Up to this point, you’d been quite worried and shocked, not sure what to feel or think. The bondage, the pantyhose gag, the grabby gloves and strange, psychosexual demonstrations...does it point to...

*inhale*

****?

*inhale*

No, surely not.

Your mind is succumbing. After all, you would never do anything directly with your mother, that's for sure. But even the combinations of these conflicting thoughts were kinky in themselves, and as a result, they were also turning you on. You’re still conflicted...

What would she think?

*inhale*

It's only her clothes.

*inhale*

It’s not like I would go out of my way to do these things, but...what am I supposed to do?

It was like every sniff of the fragrant, pungent shoe turned you on more and more. It didn't matter what you tried to do anyway--the clothes were patient, and they were going to get what they wanted. I their goal was to turn you on, they must have noticed that you weren’t exactly hard just yet...

*inhale*

Still, it was no use. You could feel every one of your heartbeats beginning to bring your erection to life. The last conflicts of your mind were leaving now, as the smell of the shoe got deeper and deeper into your body. It's not like you could get out of this anyways, right?

*inhale*

No, but still this is so...

*inhale*

Right. And that's exactly how it feels. Not to mention...this is just pure logic.

At last your carnal desires had betrayed you; your cock was completely hard, pledging its possession to the clothes. And there it stood, for all of the clothes to see, for you to feel and realize, a silent, tall, pole of surrender. Now that you had given your resignation to the clothes, the real fun was to begin.