by Tina Majors
I am here to buy a pair of frilly, skimpy panties for myself upon the instruction of my boss. In order to meet her demands, the panties must leave little to the imagination, must be either red, pink, or a sufficiently lurid colour (you can surprise me on this one), and will have a high cut on the hips. If I do not meet my boss’ requirements I will be punished appropriately and will be forced to return to purchase another pair. If you feel I am required to try on pairs of panties to make sure they meet my boss’s requirements then so be it, that is fine. If you notice that I become aroused then you may also admonish me verbally and or punish me as appropriate. Please also write any notes you may feel are relevant on to this note and pass it back to my little pet so I can read it later and make any necessary punishments or even rewards.
I had no idea how I would be able to go through with this.
The thought of buying the panties at all, even with all my efforts going into keeping it a covert operation so to speak, was scary as it was but this was just simply terrifying.
But, I could not deny that there was a certain frisson, an uneasy sense of excitement, that I was feeling at the prospect.
I felt a stirring in my dick, the press of an emerging boner against my trousers – the humiliation of knowing that I had been sent out without anything underneath as punishment for messing my knickers earlier that day.
What would happen in the store, and could I go through with this? I was about to find out…
**
I walked into the supermarket with my trolley. Just my luck, there was only one left and it was one of the ones that has that annoying thing where one of the wheels, typically the font ones, had been bent out of shape a little.
What this meant was that the trolley was harder to manoeuvre and made a strange and not to mention loud clunking and thunking noise as I pushed it up and down the aisles in search of the food stuffs on my list.
I took great care to buy a good quality baguette as I had been warned that anything less than perfectly fresh would not be deemed acceptable. I’d always been a fan of bread, a connoisseur if you will, and back when I was earning big bucks and bonuses in my previous job I would think nothing of visiting my local deli and splurging upwards of five pounds on the latest artisanal delight from the local micro bakery.
These days I was shopping for someone else and so far had not been trusted with choosing my own shops, or rather, I was being sent here for reasons other than the number of seeds in a batch of freshly baked bread.
I selected a baguette that I thought would pass muster so to speak and carefully placed it in the trolley.
I purchased the remaining items on the list and knew it was time to proceed to the clothes department, and within that the women’s clothes, and within that again the lingerie and underwear section.
As I pushed the trolley in that direction, wheels clanking and bumping, I caught the odd person looking at me – of course, I knew logically that it was the awkward and grating trolley sound that was drawing their attention but a wild paranoia also set in.
Were they wondering where I was going?
Was my embarrassment and incoming humiliation painted all over my face?
The closer I got to the lingerie section, full as it was with all manner of female underwear from practical black thongs to lacy see through crisp white panties, I could feel my face redden and a trickle of sweat roll down my back.
Could the other shoppers see this? Would I be exposed?
The moment of truth was approaching, and to add humiliation on to humiliation, I could feel my dick harden and agitate against the front of my trousers.
The purchase of my panties was completely humiliating.
The woman clearly knew that they were for me, and made a big point of asking a colleague whether the frilly multipack was on special. She made a great deal of holding the panties I had bought up to her face and searching for the price scan tag, just making sure the everyone could see what it was that I was purchasing.
After I had made the purchase she said that she hoped to be seeing me again soon, and maybe next time she would help me with the purchases and perhaps give me a fitting.
I went bright red and couldn’t hold it in, my dick exploding in my trousers, my face flushing. She must have noticed a tell-tale sign because she burst out laughing.
I turned away and walked as quickly as I could.
“See you again!” she shouted.
And the thing was, I knew full well that I would be back.
**
Waiting at the traffic lights it became clear that there was a problem with the traffic light itself.
Somehow, and don’t ask me I’m terrible with technical stuff like this, the lane I was in, on the far right feeding into the turn, seemed to be stuck on red.
Each other line took their turns in proceeding on to their designated destination while I and my fellow travellers were stuck.
Normally I wouldn’t let something like this overly bother me, I’m kind of lazzaise faire on this sort of thing because I figure life has a plan for us all and what’s a few minutes here or there in the greater scheme of things after all?
But today was different, and my life was now not just about going with the flow. Ashely would be expecting me back within a reasonable time with my purchases, receipts included to make sure I hadn’t pinched the panties to avoid embarrassment, so as to ensure she could eat a timely brunch. She had emphasised several times that her belief was that good time keeping was an essential part of my position as she wanted to know that she could trust me enough to gradually give me more responsibility and even some freedom, within limits of course.
She had also said that poor timekeeping, along with the potential situation of me losing my position, something that I strangely could not even contemplate happening despite the spankings, the humiliations, and the degradations, would lead to my punishment schedule being enhanced and my freedoms reduced.
Today for instance, she had explained in no uncertain terms that for every minute I was late back from the supermarket expedition I would receive an extra spank to my naked bottom from a starting point of twenty hard spanks.
Furthermore, as it was related to a car journey, the spanking would take place in her driveway and with me bent over the front bonnet of the car itself.
Yes, the driveway was a private one – but as she said, what is to say a burly delivery man wouldn’t arrive with a package, or one of her cleaning maids might return to pick up one of their feather dusters, or possibly even she might just have a visit from a group of her equally powerful and intimidatingly buxom female business society friends?
I began to find myself indulging in just how painful and humiliating any of these scenarios could be when I suddenly became aware that the cards behind me were beeping their horns in a frenzy.
The lights had changed to green and as I put the car into first and quickly then second gear, I did not know whether to hope for a prompt arrival back to my new home in order for my mistress to be pleased with my performance or a somewhat later arrival that would almost certainly prompted some al fresco chastisement and bottom reddening corrective measures.
**
I lay on my bed and wondered what I should do with my evening.
Ashely had given me the rest of the night off my duties and I felt very grateful to her showing me such kindness, after all in theory she could have given me more chores to do such as unloading the dishwasher or making a start on folding the sheets that were hanging in the drying room ready to be put back in their drawer upstairs in the small airing room.
Mistress had said that as it was a chilly evening she would put the heating on all night and I would be permitted to sleep either in the pyjama bottoms she provided – a lovely pair from Marks & Spencer that cut in tight around my front and my bottom: yes, they were women’s pyjama bottoms of course, but they were comfortable and made a change from tiny panties and knickers that I was usually wearing now – or a simple pair of high c
ut tanga panties in black.
Perhaps from my enthusiasm for the pyjamas you can see that I chose to wear those.
Anyway, in my pyjama bottoms I put the television on and casually flicked through the channels to see if there was anything that caught my fancy. Ashely had warned me that I was not to watch anything too provocative that objectified the female form, one because she did not like to see women objectified by men (it should be the other way round according to her) and two because I was not permitted under the terms of my employment to become aroused unless I received express oral or written consent from her, my employer.
I couldn’t seem to find anything that interesting on the tv, it was just the classic Saturday night rubbish of reality shows and talent contests, so I decided to leave it on in the background and just chill out after my hard day at the office, so to speak.
A few minutes later I saw that a new show had started and it featured several men and women in a reality environment and they appeared to be spending less and less time wearing any clothes.
I couldn’t help but find my attention piqued by the women who seemed to have shapely bodies and weren’t shy about exposing them to raise their profile.
On the show it appeared that somewhat inebriated on cocktails and shots they had decided to have a twerking contest on the table tops of their rented house.
As I watched their partially nude but almost fully exposed bottoms jiggle and bounce, I felt a surge of blood to my dick. Back in the day I would have taken my lap top out and looked at porn when I felt aroused, but seeing as that was now strictly banned, this could be the closest I would get.
In a moment of madness, a kind of horny fever, I pulled the pyjamas down to my knees, lay back and stroked myself to the tune of these young women twerking and licking and sucking on their large nipples for the entertainment of the muscled men of they lived in the house with.
This was absolute madness, I knew that mistress could walk in at any moment and I would be in total violation of the rules.
And guess what happened?
I heard a hard and fast knock on the door.
I attempted to rearrange myself as quickly as I could.
“Spot check, make yourself presentable for your mistress,” came the call from outside my room.
I leapt up in a vain attempt to pull my pyjamas back up and cover myself.
It was all too little too late.
There I was, standing with my pathetic little erection half sticking out of my semi pulled up women’s pyjamas, and in the background a quite unedifying scene of women exposing themselves for the attention of horny gym obsessed men.
“What on earth do you think you are doing you utter, utter disgrace?” Ashely said. “NO, don’t even attempt to answer. Get those pyjama bottoms off, right off, right this second and hand them to me,”
Ashely walked over and began doing the job for herself, roughly yanking the bottoms down, pushing me over on the floor with ease due to my unbalanced position, and removing the bottoms entirely.
“Don’t move a muscle, you need to stay down there on the floor like the worm you are, you little maggot,” she said, towering above me in her stylish yoga pants and athletic sports bra that only just managed to supress her large bazooka breasts.
She dropped right down onto my chest, winding me a little.
“Oh don’t even think about moaning like a little bitch, you’re lucky I don’t throw you out onto the street boy,” she roared. “Now, you may think it’s okay to watch women debase themselves but I happen to think that it’s you who needs to experience some humiliation. Look at your little cock, still stiff, still aching. I’ll ask you a question now and you’d better answer honestly. What were you doing before I came in?”
I knew there was no room to bullshit.
I knew I had to answer honestly, because I had been warned that punishments would only be severe if I lied, and mistress would always know if that was the case.
I gulped and began to answer, finding myself mesmerised by the Amazonian goddess pressing down on me with her immensely powerful thighs and heavy buttocks. Her yoga pant cladded vagina was only inches away from my face and I knew she would smother me with it given any hesitation from my part.
“M-m-m-mistress, please accept my apologies,” I said. “I made a very big mistake. I accidentally left on a programme that featured the incorrect action of women pleasing men. I know that is wrong. Please show mercy on me. I saw their naked, voluptuous bodies and gave in to temptation, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I don’t know what came over me…”
Almost breaking down, half turned on and half devastated that I had gone against my keeper’s wishes, I was submitted to her entirely.
“Well that’s a decent start,” She said. “But I’ve got a question for you. Do you think you’re a match for the men in that programme? I’m looking at them now, tops off, rippling muscles and bulges in their tight pants. As stupid as they are, I am sure I could put them to use on my body. But I look down at you and I see a pathetic little panty pervert, a sparrow’s cock little boy’s dick. Now answer me, are you a match for these men?”
“N-n-no, no I’m not. I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m such a little wimp,” I replied. “Please, let me make it up to you mistress. I’ll do anything, anything you want,”
Genuinely desperate to please my goddess as she bounced up and down on me, laughing, gently slapping my face, I would have acquiesced to any of her commands or desires.
“Well, well, okay, this is what will happen,” She said. “We are going to reverse the roles on the television. You’re going to be the little bitch making a fool of yourself for the big strong master. You’re going to learn that if you watch trash you will be treated like trash,”
With that, she picked me up off the floor and pulled over a chair in front of the television. The reality show had now cut to a scene of one of the large men and one of the slutty women in the bedroom. They were fucking, with the woman bent over the bed and taking a pounding from behind.
Mistress roughly bent me over the chair, facing the television, then walked over to the shelf that displayed her ultimate deterrent, a large black strap on.
I watched as she placed the strap on over her yoga pants and walked in front of me, giggling.
“Okay boy, She said. “You better get this big cock nice and wet because it’s going right up that stupid little bottom of yours in a minute. And you’re going to take it for as long as the woman on television takes her big length for. That’s it, suck it, leave lots of nature’s lube on there.”
She walked behind me and I felt her spread my cheeks, exposing my puckered ass to the world.
Cold air.
I felt nervous, excited, totally in a trance.
Then, it came, I felt the large head push against me and I let out a long, deep moan.
I couldn’t deny it, it felt good, if uncomfortable at the same time.
“Ooooooh, please…” I said.
“That’s it, take it you little slut,” Ashely commanded. “You’ll learn your lesson here make no mistake. Look up at the television at that stupid little woman getting exposed in front of millions. You should thank your lucky stars that this is just between us two, for now at any rate!”
With that she began to move the fat cock in and out of me at a great speed, herself beginning to moan now.
She was really going for it – and I would later see that the strap on had a built in vibrator intended for the user’s pleasure – until she appeared to climax and then drop her full weight on my body.
I had nothing left, I felt as if my dignity had been well and truly taken away from me, but there was one more act to seal my punishment for the evening.
“Now,” she said, “Now that I have composed myself I want to see you finish yourself off, wank that pathetic little maggot and spurt it. But there’s a twist, seeing as you are a sissy little bitch, you will be wanking it to the freeze-framed image on the television. Hahaha, don’t even try and pr
otest, yes, you will bring yourself to cum to the image of that large stud standing tall with his muscular back and powerful bottom to camera. And as you stroke, on each stroke you will say: I am a pathetic sissy who knows her place in the pecking order. Now, without further ado…”
I stood up and face the television and my magnificent mistress.
I began to stroke, repeating as instructed the line: I am a pathetic sissy who knows her place in the pecking order, as instructed.
And the thing was, as humiliating as this was, I knew it to be true.
If mistress suspected my sight was drifting, she would grab my face and point me back in the direction of the large, toned man and his strong calves, thighs, buttocks, and shoulders.
“Yes, you feel degraded and humiliated by me, by this prat on the television, but you also feel turned on by us both too,” She declared. “That’s it, faster, faster, faster, faster, ooooooooooh and there it is, what a lot of mess you’ve made on your floor!”
Laughing and utterly revelling in her victory over me, she continued, “Now get on your hands and knees and lick up every drop you utter waste of space. We’ll make a good servant of you yet, but there’s a long long way to go slutty sissy boi!”
As I licked up my own hot creamy mess from the laminate floor, occasionally looking up to the magnificent sight of my new boss, I knew that I had never ever felt such degradation in my life.
But another thing was also true.
I knew that I had also never felt such commitment to serving another person, to pleasing them, to being their possession.
I knew that this would be a job I would never get sick of. I knew there would be many more tales of humiliation, punishments, and my boundaries being pushed further than I ever thought imaginable.
What would happen, not just this evening, or the next day, or back at work with her on Monday would all be revealed.
Things were bound to get more humiliating, more degrading, but I knew that this was a journey that I had to stick to, one that was probably the path I had always, deep down, desperately wanted to be on.