Not just yet.

You clutch at your burning bottom but immediately you feel an even sharper pain in response to the touch. You look up at your mother with tearful eyes. She seems even taller to you now. A few threads of hair have come loose from her signature bun and hang loosely along the side of her face. Her brow is furrowed in anger and her normally caring, azure blue eyes are filled with rage and contempt. A light sheen of sweat from her exerctions gives her a glow that under normal circumstances you would find extremely attractive. Her mouth which usually assumes the form of a gentle smile is tightly pursed in a quivering line of disgust. She regains her composure somewhat, controlling her ire as she speaks.

"What the hell Quinton? How could you do this to me?" She asks, a subtle hint of her betrayed feelings intermingling with her wrathful tone. "I thought you were getting passed this and now here you are doing nasty, perverted things with my goddamn underwear. What are you? Twelve?"

You cannot answer with the panties still stuffed in your mouth and lack the presence of mind in your dissociative state to remove them. You simply continue to sob, every nerve endings in your body is totally numb now from the overstimulation of your mother's beating. Without warning she reaches down and rips the panties out of your mouth and you cough and gag as a pint glass worth of drool and cum and possibly vomit escapes your previously blocked throat. She throws the now sodden panties against the wall with a slap as she continues.

"Those aren't rhetorical questions goddamnit answer me!" She barks. You continue to sputter, sob, and cough as you try to collect yourself enough to speak again.

"I'm sorry Mommy." You finally manage to almost whisper. Without another word your once loving mother now a vengeful goddess pushes you over roughly onto your back with a light shove from her high heeled foot. You grunt a little from the shove but the grunt quickly turns to a wretched scream as your mother presses the sole of her pointed, glossy heel onto your scrotum. She leans in, increasing the pressure, keeping her weight balanced between her off leg and the one she is using to **** you. You feel a pain which dwarfs the one you were feeling moments before. Your stomach turns and twists itself into knots and your thighs clinch around your mother's beautiful ankle trying to block access to your most sensitive parts. Despite the pain and humiliation of this position, or perhaps because of it, you find your member twitching and hardening once more in response to the stimulation. Your mother notices this and continues to berate you.

"You're sicker than I realized is this getting you off? Being beaten and abused by your own mommy?" Her disgust is apparent in the mocking tone of her voice. "Do you like being punished like this you sick sissy faggot?" Her words cut you deeply as you writhe and scream begging her to stop.

"PLEASE MOMMY! PLEASE DON'T DO THIS IT HURTS! I'LL BE GOOD! I PROMISE!"

"Oh you've demonstrated today just how much I can trust those promises!" She leans in as she spits her dismissive reply in your face, doubling the pressure on your poor balls. You grunt and groan as she continues. "I should throw you out for this you little freak! Give me one good reason not to!"

"Because I'm your son Mom! I love you! Please!" Your words seem only to enrage her further.

"Some son!" She retorts. "Sneaking around, peeping on his own mother like a pervert, playing with her dirty panties! What did I do wrong here Quinton? How could you?!" She emphasizes her last question by twisting her ankle slightly, rotating your crushed testicles under the merciless pressure of her foot. Your only response is to wail and scream until she lets off enough to let you breath again.

"I'm sorry Mommy I won't do it again! I don't know what I was thinking! Please stop hurting me!" She looks in your eyes. Her furious gaze penetrates your very soul and you can feel the fire of her wrath burning into you. Finally she relents and you feel one last bolt of intense pain as she pushes off your groin and regains her footing. You immediately curl into the fetal position, sobbing and crying in a pathetic ball. Your mother stares down at you imperiously for some time before speaking again.

"I'm going back to work." She says flatly. "I expect you to clean this fucking mess up, finish the kitchen, and be back in your room before I return. I don't want to see your sniveling face again today you fucking sissy." Without further ado your mother turns to leave. Her heels click on the concrete floor and then the stairs as she ascends. She stops before she reaches the door and turns to look down at you. "Forget the rest of my laundry because apparently I can't trust a pervert like you to get it done without jerking your little dickie. Throw those away." She says pointing to the panties and bra. "I obviously can never wear them again." She slams the door and you're alone again.

For a long time you simply cannot move. The afterpain from the spanking and the **** your balls received is overwhelming and you just twitch and sob in your little ball for at least an hour. You know, however, that you're running out of time and there's no telling what she's capable of if you're not done with the kitchen by the time she returns. You rise on shaking legs to your feet. You since as you pull your pants and underwear back into place. Every touch to your sensitive rump and balls brings a new jolt of pain.

You reorder the laundry room and grab the soiled panties and bra before you climb the stairs and begin working again. You cry continuously as you scrub and polish every inch of the kitchen and every now and then a loud grunt escapes your lips as you bump your sensitive ass against a corner or wall. You finish just before 6PM and thankfully your mother hasn't arrived yet. You run to your room and throw yourself down on the bed, burying your face in the pillow but you have no more tears to cry today. You simply lay there in the dark, wishing you didn't exist.