Cristinas Slave Husband

Cristina was my Dad's new wife. She moved in about six months ago when they got married. I'm 19 but she insisted that I call her Mommy which I found very uncomfortable.

I complained bitterly but Cristina uses her beauty to get her own way. She said, "I know you've been sniffing my underwear in the basement while you're on laundry duty. If you learn to recognize me as your Mommy fully, your unclean urges will disappear."

She commented further, "Surely, a normal boy wouldn't sniff their own Mommy's panties."

A week later, while administering chores, Cristina gave full responsibility for her laundry to me. She knew I'd be alone in the basement with her worn thongs and cotton underwear, the difference being the panties I now sniffed belonged to my Mommy. Cristina knew full well that I wouldn't be unable to resist my urges despite the shame and humiliation.

Weeks passed, and as I walked home, I wondered why I could not stop masturbating over a woman whom I called Mom. "Oh no, not again," I said to myself as I sprinted up the stairs at high speed, pretending I didn't notice.

Cristina's voice echoed, "Sweetie pie, your Dad baked cookies, come down and have some."

I cringed, "I'm having a shower, Mom!"

Mom yelled, "They're straight out of the oven sugar bun. I want you to try them while they're hot and gooey." Why did she have to say gooey, I could feel my boxers swell.

I dropped my gear bag and grimaced. I just didn't want to see my Dad like that, and I knew he hated been seen by me in that position. I sat on the sofa and pretended I didn't notice, but there he was, seated at Mom's feet, methodically applying nail varnish to each of her toes. Dad didn't lift his head, but I could see how willing and happy he was, his only shame was me being present.

"How was football practice sugar?" asked Mom. I gave the usual reply, but I couldn't help but notice how beautiful she looked while slowly nibbling her cookie. Mom always had a golden tan, straight from the salon hair. She was a former cheerleader, but even though she had matured, her body still maintained that shape, just a bit fuller. Mom was tall, had big breasts and long legs, which were always tanned, waxed, and glistening. She had long, naturally blonde hair, and her face was just so cute, so feminine (think all American Mom). The center point of her attractiveness though lay in her large toned thighs and a big round ass, which stuck out in an adorable way.

Mom was the definition of a MILF. Her ass was her trophy. It was peculiar in the sense that it was big and round, yet it was unusually high, tight, firm, and perky. It just seemed to jut out in a perfect circular form. She'd never mention it, but she knew well that men drooled over her ass. She knew my friends glared at her from behind, so she often wore yoga pants and short summer dresses.

She went to the gym five times a week and ate healthily, but she didn't diet. She ate plenty because she knew with confidence that it would all go to her thighs and ass, her gym would just keep her ass and legs toned and in check.

I felt so ashamed thinking about her ass, but I couldn't help it, it was just so elusive to me. I had to endure the anguish of seeing her every day, the various panties, thongs, and outlines. However, I knew I could never dream of touching her.

"My milk is warm," Mom stated as she placed her manicured finger into a glass of milk. Dad assumed she was talking to me, so he didn't pay attention. Mom lifted her foot and tapped the underside of Dad's chin, and he looked up sharply. "My milk-is-warm!" Mom said in a more assertive tone.

See Mom rarely scolded Dad, there was no need because his devotion was so deep and voluntary, he adored her beyond reason. She clicked her fingers, and he did it. If Dad were idle, Mom would say, "Don't wait until I tell you to do something, think of ways to make me happy." It was never like a Dom/Sub thing, not even close. Mom never behaved like a dominatrix to him. It wasn't necessary. She was his world, and she knew it.

Anyway, Dad jumped up and rushed back in. He placed the milk on her lap and dived to her feet. I could see Mom begin to smirk as she sipped the cold milk; she could see his belly had overlapped his sweatpants. He was also sweating profusely, and he had let himself go.

"Why are you sweating so much?" asked Mom.

"I don't know Ma'am, I'm sorry," said Dad.

"I know why, look at you, you're like a little pig."

Dad went back to working on her toes in the hope that she would move onto something else. However, Mom kicked his hand away and shouted, "I told you to start your diet, but you've been eating sugary treats at work!"

I left to go up the stairs, but Mom snapped, "Jamie, sit down now! It's important, this slob is meant to support and protect this family but look at him." I sat back down immediately, but this was painful to watch, I was thinking please let it just stop.

Mom questioned him, "You are sweating like a pig because you are fat like a pig, am I right?"

Dad looked to the ground, "Yes, Ma'am."

"Now, did you have sugary treats at work?"

Dad raised his head, "Yes, Ma'am."

"So if you're sweating, fat and greedy, what does that make you?"

"A pig, Ma'am!" shouted Dad without hesitation.

Mom seemed happy with his reply, "Well done. I thought you would say something stupid like I don't know."

I could see the relief in his eyes, he thought it was over, but I had a sense she was just giving him a false sense of security. Mom sat up straight, "What noise do pigs make?"

Dad replied, "They grunt Ma'am."

Mom quickly interjected, "So grunt, do it now!"

Dad looked up with a plea of mercy in his eyes, "Please, not in front of Jamie."

Mom firmly said, "Tom, I asked you to do something, I don't ask twice. Jamie must see you for what you are."

I couldn't believe it, Mom was always bossy, but I had never seen her this mean. I knew in private she would discipline him. If he ever made a mistake while we were out, she would never act there and then. When we returned home, however, Dad was always marched up to their room. His bruises and other marks were evident in the days that followed.

Dad turned and looked at me with a plea for forgiveness in his eyes. It's as if he wanted me to understand somehow what he was about to do. However, I just looked away. It was too awkward.

Mom grew impatient, "You have two seconds, everything is in my name. You will never as much as touch or smell my feet again." Dad raised his head and grunted from his nose and just kept grunting on all fours; he had lost all his inhibitions. I cringed and covered my eyes, but Mom just smiled while biting her fingernail to contain her laughter, there was such a glisten in her eyes.

Mom leaned forward and turned Dad's nose up with her middle finger, "That's more like it. There's your snout. Jamie, get Mom that firm duct tape from the garage like a good boy."

I knew Dad would expect me to defend him. But by now, I was lost in a trance. I just wanted to help and assist her, to serve her. I ran with desperation and placed the duct tape in her hands. Mom curled up with pride, "Aww, that's a good boy, that was so fast. Now get Mom the scissors, and we'll give Dad the snout he thoroughly deserves."

I got so hard seeing her cut the duct tape. She was so callous, cruel, and cold towards Dad. She had zero empathy, which just made her more beautiful and alluring to me. As Mom double taped the tip of his nose in the direction of his forehead, she said, "Now piggy, there you go." She let go, leaned back, and just burst out laughing.

Dad turned to me, and I glanced at his now-massive nostrils. I just put my eyes to the ground; she made him look ridiculous. I was sad for him, but in a way, it's what he deserved. She told him she was leaving him months ago, but he begged her to stay in his life in whatever capacity she wanted. Having seen this weakness, she continued to push and push his boundaries until there was nothing left but a shadow of the man he had once been. He was no longer himself. He just existed to facilitate her life.

Mom gleaming at her creation, "Aww, you look so frightened with your snout. You know what noise piggies make when they are frightened, don't you? Come on, you know that noise they make when the farmer opens the gate and enters their pig pen?"

Dad replied, "No, Ma'am, I don't."

Upset by his tone and lack of subservience, Mom sat up straight. Her eyes went dead as she stared at him, "They squeal Tom, they fucking squeal, so..." Dad looked to the ground and just started to cry, in like a loud slobbering way. I couldn't take much more, I could feel a big load brewing in my cock, and I needed to release it.

The fact he broke down would have resulted in sympathy from most people; it would have put an end to most situations. However, Mom just folded her arms and stared blankly at him. Dad continued to cry loudly in an attempt to evoke some sympathy, but Mom crossed her legs and said, "Jamie, get me the phone!"

"Why, Mom?" I said.

"I'm calling the police. Dad has no right to be here, now hurry."

Dad just put his face to her dangling foot, in a sniffling attempt to appease her. Mom took one look, nudged him away with her foot, and said, "Jamie, phone now!"

Dad dived back to her foot and just started to squeal relentlessly, "eeeeeeeeeh, eeeeeh, eeeeh, eeeeeeeeeeeh." Mom observed this for a few moments, no instructions, no laughing, just cold observation.

"eeeeeeeh, eeeeeeeeeeeeeeh, eeeeeeeeeeeeeeh," Dad continued squealing as if a demon-possessed him. That was it, I couldn't take it, I stroked my cock through my trousers, and I quickly shot out a big load of cum. My face shuddered with relief. I sat up and folded my arms, hoping nobody would notice the emerging wet gooey stain on my crotch.

I need not have worried. Mom was sitting with her legs crossed, arms folded, accompanied by a stone face expression while staring at this squealing, sweat-drenched, broken man.

Mom then stood up as if he wasn't there, stretching her arms into the air and yawning. As she stretched, she stood on her tippy toes, and her white t-shirt rose, leaving me a sight of her soft tanned skin above the black yoga pants clinging to her body.

Her ass is so accentuated, so exposed. One would expect to see her underwear rise, but she was such a lady. Mom was from a wealthy country club type background, so she always maintained that class. Mom adored panties and lingerie. She brought home bags from Victoria secret almost every other day. However, she'd never let her underwear seen. She teased within the boundaries but never went further.

Finished stretching, she again turned her attention to Dad, ripping the duct tape off his face, "Take that silly thing off your face! Now Tom, chores, chores, chores. You have a list of chores as long as my personal trainer's cock, so I recommend you get doing them."

"Yes, Ma'am," Dad replied.

"I'm going up for a bath, then a nap, wake me at 7 for dinner."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Mom turned, "Oh and Tom, Trixie is pooping everywhere, don't you dare let me find her poop again!"

"Yes, Ma'am."

Trixie was Moms' pet Pomeranian dog, whom she treated like her princess. I once asked Mom why we can't just toilet train Trixie. Mom replied, "Trixie is my baby just like you're my baby, I don't want my baby going outside in the cold to poop. Anyway, Dad loves Trixie. He loves cleaning up her poop."

As Mom headed for the stairs, Dad yelped out, "I love you." Mom turned at the foot of the stairs as if she heard an unwelcome noise. She looked at him briefly and just turned around.

All either of us were left with was the sight of Mom nonchalantly skipping up the stairs, her long blonde hair bouncing as it just stopped above her lower back. Her ass was protruding outwards in all its beauty, jiggling ever so slightly. It was like a symbol of superiority, female confidence, power, and presence. I wanted just to run and fall to my knees, place my nose in her arch, and sniff her. I knew buried deep between her two-round sallow cheeks, was her tight hole. I could never use the word asshole. To me, it was so much more, a forbidden fruit, an elusive, exclusive temple of worship. It was the epitome of the female anatomy, the epicenter of her feminine beauty. I knew I'd never get to see it, touch it, explore it. I could never make my feelings known, but deep down, I yearned to worship her at her sweetest point.