The enchantments sense your reaction to Mommy’s shoes and decide to push the envelope.

You begin to take deeper and deeper sniffs into your mother's shoe, taking great pleasure in being restrained to do so. In silence you lay just like that: hard, immobile. The smell is ambrosial to you at this point. But what’s next?

You could hardly hear anything else besides the sounds of your own slow, intense breathing. Was this all the clothes had in mind for you? Maybe they're waiting for something else...

Breathing in all the while, you think about the steps that the clothes have taken so far.

‘’Trapped, bound, stripped, gagged, and **** to smell a worn shoe. Could it be they want me to initiate the next step? Just to further humiliate me?’’

Not that you mind. You begin to flex your kegels, causing your dick to twitch skyward. It tenses a few times until you you hear a new sound of shuffling around. Another glove holding a red flat with a white leathery interior hovered in front of your eyes to see. It was partially blocked; the shoe you were still smelling remained on your nose.

Not for long, though. The shoe you were being **** to smell quickly moved out of the way. Now the glove holding the red flat descended upon your nose, and not even half a second went by that you were thrust into another scent profile.

Again, it was still your mother's feet, but this time it was mixed with a novel leathery smell.

The smell was strong, if not stronger, than the black pump...but apparently the clothes only meant to give you a sample, because just a second after the new shoe invades your senses, the glove and red flat remove themselves from your face, hovering in front of you as the original black pump is **** back onto your nose.

The glove dangles the red flat at your face, making certain that you knew its smell and sight. You assume it’s just making sure, because right after you thought that, the glove released the red flat. Rather than falling straight to the floor, it hovered in the air and hung there. Then it glided away, like it was stalking something outside of your vision.

Before your eyes could follow it, you feel something grab your cock. When you look down, the red flat’s inserted itself onto your penis. The leathery toe box presses onto your head as the leathery insole cradles your balls. You could feel the material sticking onto your shaft, sliding against your balls.

So now the clothes were going to try to make you cum. Weren’t they?

All the shoe did was place itself onto your cock, and nothing else...until you feel pressure again. The toe box tightens gently around your head, and the heel lifts, juggling your balls and teasing against your taint. It feels like the entire shoe has cemented itself onto the back of your penis. The **** it’s applying is enough to make your penis harder, lifting against the embrace of the sweet, leathery shoe and pointing upward towards your own stomach.

And again the clothes left you alone. Your penis was wearing one of your mom's shoes. As if to mock you further, the clothes came up with this sort of idea of "disgracing" what had earlier been your flag of defeat. They knew that your will was broken now, that you were turned on by what was happening here... So to stick the cherry on top, they wrapped your cock in that shoe.

It was evidence alright; the hard-on showed no signs of weakening. It only stood there, supporting the weight of the fragrant, leathery shoe. And nothing. Somehow, you knew what the clothes wanted from you, and you could only comply. You began to flex your penis muscles again, trying your best to move the red flat alongside with it. The shoe only gave a little, pushing back against your dick with every tiny thrust.

Eventually you wondered if it was growing bored of your feeble attempts to please it. You wanted to try to communicate that you wanted to cum, that you needed to cum.

As if in silent agreement, your mom's clothes loosened their grip on you, offering more mobility. The clothes now expected you to hump the shoe. It wasn’t going to be enough to make you cum. It could only tease you; it could only **** you to tease yourself further.

But you did it anyway, humping and humping. Even the bed started squeaking.

The red flat wouldn’t budge; it was withholding stimulation again. It didn’t matter, though--you were urged on by the faint scent and the look of the shoe, supernaturally clinched around your dick. Your hips and body were bucking against what felt like empty air, the shoe holding on tight and offering no other resistance. Nothing but teasing.

For a few minutes you try with all of your might, but the motion only wears you out. The clothes are satisfied with your efforts, though. This becomes clear when both the red and white pairs of leather gloves comes back to massage you once more, holding you in place when you try to change positions.

And finally, the red flat on your cock starts to move again. It grips you in pulses, still attached tightly enough that it’s actually capable of tugging your oversensitive pole up and down.

You let out a moan through the dirty pantyhose gagging you. You’re literally being **** to have sex with your mother's belongings. Her shoe is toying with your dick like a pro, tugging and squeezing and sliding with a loving kind of ****. Her soft, buttery gloves are at your chest and sides, teasing your nipples and stroking your body in ways that are only reinforcing your submission. You lie there, unable to accelerate the shoe’s slow, tantalizing, pullings--not with your hands, your hips or your struggles. The clothes have you bound, and they plan to tire you out.

Clearly they didn’t want you interfering with their plans--which appeared to lead to ejaculation. The idea of cumming into one of your mother's shoes by **** was turning you on more and more. The unreal sight of disembodied clothes, the forbidden scents and fetishized textures of leather and nylon, satin, lace and denim dancing around the room…

There was a shoe on your cock and a heel on your nose, and all you wanted was to please them. To do whatever it took to be in the good graces of these enchanted clothes and make them give you more of this feeling.

Everything bubbled up in your head. You were so ready to cum for the shoe, for the clothing...

‘’Yes!’’

At long last, the clothes would give you what you wanted. You were getting closer and closer, and the flat got faster and faster, masturbating you lovingly. You nearly came to the point of no return when...everything stopped again.

‘’Oh, god...you brought me so close!’’

A glove flew up to your face, wagging an index finger side to side. What could it be now? You’ve already reduced yourself to condensed lust. The first glove moves out of the way. Its mate holds some paper with a message:

DO YOU WANT TO CUM? BLINK TWICE IF SO.

You blink twice, and the papers shuffle, showing you another question.

DO YOU AGREE TO COMPLY WITH ALL OUR CONDITIONS?

It brings another paper from behind.

THIS AGREEMENT IS BINDING.

Binding? What the hell did that mean?

Another squeeze from the shoe, and you forget it. You blink twice. Not like you could stop blinking anyway, right? The papers the second glove was holding disintegrate into thin air.

‘’Did I just screw myself over?’’

There’s no time to think about it now. The shoe begins pulsing around your cock, squeezing it with a soft rhythm. Just as you wondered if you were being rewarded for your compliance, the white leather gloves firmly latched around your wrists as the red pair gripped your sides.

You could feel the gloves hoisting your body into the air, and soon you’re four feet away from the bed. Just before you crash into the ceiling, your body stops. Black satin opera gloves snake around your ankles and grip them, and now your whole body is rotated so that you’re facing your bed--parallel to it.

Your bonds never move as you’re reoriented; the shoe on your face, the pantyhose gag, and the shoe on your cock are all still there--but unlike their stoic positions before, now they’re quite active.

You look like some sort of plane unloading something, with the red shoe pulling your cock down. It’s squeezing and shifting on you, refusing to relinquish the grip it has on your penis. Meanwhile, the black shoe at your face wiggles and dances against your nose. You stare at it until you see something happening below.

An army of your mom’s hosiery marches to life, rising above you and forming a canopy in the middle of the air. The ghostly legs plump and slither, weaving and sliding together. They stretch as if anchored to something, magically suspended to nothing at all. You watch the hose as they hover down and reinforce themselves against the posts of the bed.

One by one, the gloves let you go--and the hosiery whips out toward your limbs. The soft white gloves pull your wrists behind you, and nylon tentacles quickly bring your tangled body into a hogtie. You swing there gently, rocked by the pantyhose like a baby in a cradle. You can move freely, but for your head: you’re being **** to look down towards your own penis.

Two gloves appear next to to it, but one looks as if it’s...covered in a tan nylon sock of some sort. The other removes the shoe from your penis, sticking the sole of it directly under your head, where your semen would fall if you came. It's pressing into your head roughly as the nylon-covered glove begins to jack you off…right into the shoe.

You realize they're cashing in on your agreement. You have no idea what effect your cum is going to have on these enchanted objects, but part of you is only too happy to find out.

The nylon on the glove is very sheer, soft, and smooth, but the glove itself has a different personality. It has an almost painful grip on your cock, and it was beginning to go faster and faster. You kept looking between the moving nylon-glove, and the shoe where the enchantments were aiming your spunk.

The sight was so hot beyond belief. You kept thinking about the smell of feet, worn shoes, dirty nylons, dominating clothes...you couldn't turn your head. The clothes wanted you to see your own downfall: cumming into one of your own mother's shoes. The glove does not stop its nylon attack.

You begin moaning. You grit your teeth and reach the point of no return. Your penis flexes violently. By now you could feel the first of the pent-up goo finally leaving your penis, soon to meet the lovely gloss of the shoe.

But a split-second before your cum can get into your mom's red flat, the glove snaps it away from your cumshot. It doesn’t matter; you can’t stop yourself from cumming for them. Even in your final moments of this demeaning ordeal, they’ve done it again; the nyloned glove only continues.

You can see your cum streaming from your cock, and when it lands, it hits…