My mom flexed her toes  around my body, alternately squishing me into her hot, smelly sole and back again.  I could tell she was nervous as her voice sent vibrations down into my high heel prison.  No doubt the vice president of marketing was asking some tough questions.  At least my mom had crossed her leg again to lessen the pressure on her son's body, but she seemed to occassionally forget that she had placed me under her rather active toes.

And so I remained trapped.  Subject to my mom's actions--my fate determined by things as simple as the amount of sweat on her foot.  I could feel the blood under her skin pulsing as her heart raced with adrenaline.  Her foot became more swollen inside the tight shoe, and I found the air getting thick with odor and humidity but thin on usable oxygen.  I begged silently for a quick end to this meeting.

Time dragged on.  I couldn't hear the woman to whom my mom spoke, but she seemed to have a lot of questions, given how often my mom replied.  I tried to re-position myself under her toes, but such actions were beyond my ability.  My mother owned me--literally.  I had no choice but to endure whatever she deemed neccessary.

Finally, the meeting must have concluded, as my mom stood and began gingerly walking on me.  After a short stroll, she removed her foot from the high heel and peeled me from underneath her toes.  We were in a small office now.

Balancing me in her palm, she smiled.  "I'm so sorry about that, honey.  But, the meeting's over.  It went great! Thank you so much for your patience under there."

I simply sat down on her palm, hiding my erection.  It seemed beyond my control now.

She must have noticed.  "You're...excited, aren't you?" She had a quizzical look on her face.  "I didn't think you were getting pleasure from this."

I didn't want her to get that impression.  The situation was embarassing enough as it was!

"No, mommy!" I shouted.  Why did I call her that? "It's not like that!"

My mom smiled again.  "It's okay, honey.  I know it's been a long, strange day.  I don't blame you for that."

An awkward silence ensued. 

"You know," she said slowly, "I could...help you.  I mean...do you want me to...do something with it?"

Was she crazy! Of course I didn't want my mother touching my penis!

"No!" I yelled.  "It's not voluntary.  I think it's the feel of your skin!" Wrong answer.

"Well," she replied, "if I rub it, you know...to finish it...will that help? You almost look like it's painful."

The only pain was this conversation! "Just leave me alone!" I answered.  I felt bad about saying that, but her suggestions were making me further aroused--and I didn't want her to notice.

"I'm just trying to help, honey.  Believe me, I know some things about...private parts like that."

As if to prove her point, my mom lowered her other hand.  Before I could react, she used her middle finger to pin both arms above my head against her palm, and her thumb to straighten out my legs and pin them to her palm as well.  Practically spread-eagle, my bulging hard-on was now uncovered and plain for her to see.  I struggled against her fingers, gasping for air.

"Honey, don't struggle.  Let me do this...just pretend I'm a cute girl from class."

I couldn't speak.  What was my mom going to do? 

She then lowered her face and lightly licked her free index finger.  Raising back up, she then gently placed the moistened index finger on my throbbing member.  Her hot, soft, heavy skin instantly shot chills through my body.

"Just relax, honey," she said, and she began to lightly rub her finger up and down my penis.  I couldn't believe it.  My mother was giving me...a finger job?

"P-please" I stammared, but I could barely speak.  The waves of pleasure washing over my body made speech practically impossible.  I stopped denying the truth and admitted to myself that her finger was absolutely intoxicating, providing pleasure that was almost limitless.  I began to hump against her finger, and at that sign, she pressed deeper onto my penis, burying it in her soft skin, and stroked faster.  I humped faster to match her, and we began a rythym that synchronized perfectly.

Forgetting she was my mother--that she had pinned me against her palm, against my wishes--that her saliva was the lubricant on her finger--that I was at her mercy--I let myself go and exploded on her finger like never before.  Feeling that, she rubbed faster, working out every little bit of juice in my penis until nothing was left.  I continued humping until I became exhausted, and as I relaxed, she slowed her finger, until finally she removed it.  A sticky string of cum remained on her skin, and as she released my arms and legs, she grabbed a tissue from the nearby desk and wiped off her finger as I lay on her palm, breathing a sigh of relief and completely content.

Smiling, she looked down on me.  "So, that wasn't bad, was it?"

She was right.  "T-thank you," was all I could manage.