Although this submissive mommy enjoys roleplay phone sex, my life seems like a far cry from a fantasy roleplay. My baby boy loves to beat me beautiful for his live streaming audience. Although sometimes we do pretend that I’m more of an 80s mommy with big hair and red lips, the abuse I take feels very real.
But we have an agreement. He beats me beautiful for his live streaming audience, and I remain on the cocaine diet for life. Keeps me skinny. And in the long run, maybe cheaper than any of those weight loss shots. At this point, I’ve got skinny little bird legs, a huge thigh, gap and big bimbo boobs. When he arrived, he immediately pushed my face in the coke bowl. And you know me, I started snorting wildly because I knew the abuse would start soon. I am my boy’s, punching bag, flesh light, cum dumpster, and urinal.
When he pulled my head out of the bowl of cocaine, I looked like a geisha version of Tammy Faye. My face white from the cocaine, but you could still see my pancake makeup coming through. Perhaps to many I looked like a clown. But my son loves my clown makeup. He shoved his entire cock and balls in my mouth, and I immediately started to choke and gag. I teetered on my high heels as I squatted in front of him to suck his cock. A few punches to the sides of my face and I fell over.
My Son Punches Me and the Tips Roll In
But my boy yanked me back up and dick slapped me. I saw the bench. It’s the kind of contraption where a son can explore his rape phone sex fantasies for his mother without her putting up much of a fight. Although he does bust my face up, he leaves my nose alone so I can continue to snort.
He put the bowl of cocaine right under the bench so that my head could reach it. I continued to snort from the bowl as he tied me to the bench. He always thinks I’m a contortionist. When he put his fingers up my ass, I knew what would come next. He literally pulled my prolapsed out. He calls it his flesh light.
I heard the dings from the tips roll in. Our fan base loves it when he turns my prolapsed asshole into a fuck tube. He grabbed my hips and began to slam his cock into my prolapsed asshole while he punched the back of my head. He punched my rectum with his cock while punching the back of my head and my kidneys too. And he managed to get a few punches to my ribs, and we both felt them crack. But I take my boy’s abuse. In fact, he always points out that it makes my cunt wet.
My Son Beats Me Beautiful and His Audience Goes Crazy
The more he punched me and the harder he fucked me, the more chimes we heard. Once he stopped fucking my prolapsed asshole he came around and put his cock in my mouth for me to clean. He choked me while his cock slammed in and out of my throat. Plus, he continued to beat me beautiful by punching the sides of my cheeks. Ouch. At least I had a big bowl of cocaine to sniff periodically. My son joked that mommy does not need those bimbo injections because when he punches my face, I balloon up and nobody sees any wrinkles.
I still get duck lips though. My son loves the bimbo look. So, when he punches my face, my lips just swell up more and he jokes that I look like a MAGA influencer. Of course, I forgot to take my teeth out, so he punched them out for me. And I watched my teeth fly across the room. My son is a sadistic phone sex fuck. If his cock goes limp, he beats me more. Beating his mommy beautiful works better than Viagra for getting a limp dick hard again.
One of These Days, My Son Might Kill Me
At one point, I passed out from strangulation. And when I woke up, I discovered him pissing down my throat and punching my cheeks at the same time. This felt rough. Although I could snort some of the best cocaine on the planet, it did not dull all my pain. But I told myself to feel lucky. This seemed like a much less violent session with my boy than normal.
At least he didn’t throw me across the room until my skull broke the wall. Silver lining, I guess. But my boy needs to have back surgery and will be out of commission for a while. So, I guess that gives my bones time to heal. However, it scares me too. Because I know once my son recovers, he will light me up like the sky on Fourth of July. And I may not recover from that.
