Read Online Panties for Him (Punish and Pleasure - Volume 1) by Owen Wilde - Free Book Online
Authors: Owen Wilde
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Panties for Him
The dressing room curtain didn't reach the
floor and he was painfully aware that his shoes and dress socks
were visible for anyone to notice as they passed by. It was chilly,
or perhaps it was just that goose bumps had broken out from his
neck to the bottom of his spine. How had he let it go this far? His
pants were off and hanging on the hook on the wall. His fingers
twitched as he pulled down the boxers, wanting desperately to push
them back into place and get dressed before he was caught.
His hands trembled as he touched the first
pair of panties he was to try on, pink satin with ruffles across
the back. The touch of them against his palm was intoxicating; he
couldn't imagine feeling them against his small hard-on that leaked
right now against his belly. His cell phone interrupted his dirty
thoughts and it was her. Answering quickly was mandatory.
“Hello,” he talked quietly, not wanting to
risk her displeasure but equally afraid to be found here, half
naked and wet with the women’s underwear in his hand.
“Is my sissy slut in panties yet?” Her voice
was chilly and only served to torment him further, making him
wonder if he were to receive a punishment, yet aching to receive
her touch, even a glance.
“Not yet, Mistress,” he whispered.
“Put the phone down and do as you were
instructed.”
It was ice in his veins and he immediately
complied. He wiggled his hips and pulled the fabric up, tucking his
dripping dick inside. He looked in the mirror and almost forgot
where he was and a long sigh escaped.
He picked the phone up again.
“I have the panties on now, Mistress.” He
could barely speak, so drawn was he to the girl in the mirror.
“Good, sissy girl,” his Mistress purred and
his heart hammered, hoping that his compliance would in some way
win her delicious affections. He hated the word though and it
dashed his hopes every time she said it.
“I'm not a sissy, Mistress,” he swallowed
and felt the nausea rise up, knowing that he risked everything by
contradicting her.
“Are you in panties, slut?” she asked.
“Yes, Mistress,” he admitted.
“Is your little, pathetic dick leaking in
those panties?” She was relentless and he sometimes wondered if she
knew what he was doing, even what he was thinking, at all
times.
“Yes, Mistress,” he was equally ashamed and
excited to tell her.
“Well then, slut, you're a sissy. You'll
learn to appreciate that as we go along,” she continued. “One step
at a time.”
He quivered in the panties. He had imagined
this to be as far as she would take this humiliation and had
expected her tenderness after he obeyed. How much further would he
have to go?
“What do you mean?” he hissed into the
phone.
“Finish trying on all the panties. You need
enough for every day, because your boy underwear is gone,” she
snapped.
“Gone?” he stared at himself in the mirror.
The touch of the satin on his most sensitive parts would drive him
insane. He couldn't be forced to wear these under his suit
everyday. “No, I can't...” he started, but the phone said call
ended and he knew that she wouldn't have listened even if she
hadn't hung up.
Alone with his thoughts, he touched his wet
nub of a cock through the now sticky fabric and groaned. He
couldn't bear it, the softness on him, the shameful secret so close
to exposure. He wanted to tear out of the dressing room and crawl
under a rock so no one would ever find him. He wanted to touch
himself and release his shuddering orgasm all over inside the
panties just as much.
The voice of reason prompted him to make
quick work of the remainder of the panties before anyone noticed
his manly dress shoes under the curtain, to wait to rub himself in
the panties until he was far away from prying eyes and to work the
courage up to tell Mistress that he was not wearing the silky
underthings every day. His weakness was always that the voice of
reason called to him from far away while the hungry little
The dressing room curtain didn't reach the
floor and he was painfully aware that his shoes and dress socks
were visible for anyone to notice as they passed by. It was chilly,
or perhaps it was just that goose bumps had broken out from his
neck to the bottom of his spine. How had he let it go this far? His
pants were off and hanging on the hook on the wall. His fingers
twitched as he pulled down the boxers, wanting desperately to push
them back into place and get dressed before he was caught.
His hands trembled as he touched the first
pair of panties he was to try on, pink satin with ruffles across
the back. The touch of them against his palm was intoxicating; he
couldn't imagine feeling them against his small hard-on that leaked
right now against his belly. His cell phone interrupted his dirty
thoughts and it was her. Answering quickly was mandatory.
“Hello,” he talked quietly, not wanting to
risk her displeasure but equally afraid to be found here, half
naked and wet with the women’s underwear in his hand.
“Is my sissy slut in panties yet?” Her voice
was chilly and only served to torment him further, making him
wonder if he were to receive a punishment, yet aching to receive
her touch, even a glance.
“Not yet, Mistress,” he whispered.
“Put the phone down and do as you were
instructed.”
It was ice in his veins and he immediately
complied. He wiggled his hips and pulled the fabric up, tucking his
dripping dick inside. He looked in the mirror and almost forgot
where he was and a long sigh escaped.
He picked the phone up again.
“I have the panties on now, Mistress.” He
could barely speak, so drawn was he to the girl in the mirror.
“Good, sissy girl,” his Mistress purred and
his heart hammered, hoping that his compliance would in some way
win her delicious affections. He hated the word though and it
dashed his hopes every time she said it.
“I'm not a sissy, Mistress,” he swallowed
and felt the nausea rise up, knowing that he risked everything by
contradicting her.
“Are you in panties, slut?” she asked.
“Yes, Mistress,” he admitted.
“Is your little, pathetic dick leaking in
those panties?” She was relentless and he sometimes wondered if she
knew what he was doing, even what he was thinking, at all
times.
“Yes, Mistress,” he was equally ashamed and
excited to tell her.
“Well then, slut, you're a sissy. You'll
learn to appreciate that as we go along,” she continued. “One step
at a time.”
He quivered in the panties. He had imagined
this to be as far as she would take this humiliation and had
expected her tenderness after he obeyed. How much further would he
have to go?
“What do you mean?” he hissed into the
phone.
“Finish trying on all the panties. You need
enough for every day, because your boy underwear is gone,” she
snapped.
“Gone?” he stared at himself in the mirror.
The touch of the satin on his most sensitive parts would drive him
insane. He couldn't be forced to wear these under his suit
everyday. “No, I can't...” he started, but the phone said call
ended and he knew that she wouldn't have listened even if she
hadn't hung up.
Alone with his thoughts, he touched his wet
nub of a cock through the now sticky fabric and groaned. He
couldn't bear it, the softness on him, the shameful secret so close
to exposure. He wanted to tear out of the dressing room and crawl
under a rock so no one would ever find him. He wanted to touch
himself and release his shuddering orgasm all over inside the
panties just as much.
The voice of reason prompted him to make
quick work of the remainder of the panties before anyone noticed
his manly dress shoes under the curtain, to wait to rub himself in
the panties until he was far away from prying eyes and to work the
courage up to tell Mistress that he was not wearing the silky
underthings every day. His weakness was always that the voice of
reason called to him from far away while the hungry little