cuckold pantyslave
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His hands trembled, his heart raced. Peter Taylor looked around the room neverously, silently scolding himself for actually thinking someone would see him. He was, after all, in her bathroom. His eyes were drawn back to her clothes hamper, where, lying on top, was a pair of her white nylon, recently worn, freshly scented panties. With trembling hands he picked them up and pressed the soiled crotch to his nose...
Misty Walker was 34, a raven-haired beauty with a stunning figure. Her 39D-24-39 proportions were tuned to perfection thanks to six hours a week spent in the gym. She wasn't muscular, just very feminine. Over the past six years she had worked her way up through the ranks at Silent Electronics, a firm specializing in hi-tech surveillance equipment. As the Director of Marketing she enjoyed the benefits of a secure, rewarding career. She owned a two bedroom condo on the 22nd floor at Sea Dreams, an exclusive complex on the beach, with supurb views of the ocean from both her living room and her bedroom balconies. She drove a black Lexus SC400 and had a 22' Sea Ray docked at the complex marina. She was doing well for herself.
She had divorced at 29, regretting the four miserable years she had spent with a lazy, inconsiderate slob of an ex-husband. During those years he had floated through job after job, ******** and gambling most of her earnings. After three years of misery she decided to take matters into her opwn hands... she hired on as a sales rep with SE, moved in with her girlfriend, filed for divorce, and started putting every penny she could spare into savings. Two years later, when SE offered her the position on the west coast, she accepted immediately and moved to L.A.
Once there, she found life a bit different. As the Dir. of Marketing she had 17 sales reps to oversee, 13 men and four women. The women treated her with respect, which she returned in excess. The men, however, had nothing but contempt for her. They seemed to be insulted having to answer to a woman. It soon became apparant that they were pleasant to her for only one reason... to bed her. One day, thanks to one of the female reps, she caught wind of a bet the men had going amongst themselves. Each had contributed $100.00 to a pool, and the first one to score with Misty would win the money.
Big mistake on their part. Misty played right along with their male chauvinistic pig game... wearing shorter skirts, higher heels, leading them on then cutting them off cold... Each and every one of them, over a period of time, made a complete asshole of himself, and one by one she humiliated them until they resigned. Her staff was now all women... aggressive, competent women who worked hard for her, supported her, and never failed to produce impressive sales figures month after month.
Four months ago Misty's personal secretary, Denise, had informed her that because of a well deserved promotion offered to her husband, they were moving to Dallas. Misty was sad to see her go, and faced the arduous task of interviewing applicants. The ad was published, and from the 50 plus replies that were produced, she selected eight for interviews. One of those was Peter Taylor.
Misty hired him on the spot. His credentials and references were impressive, but his manner... his soft and quiet demeanor and extraordinary politeness were what got him the job. Every sentence ended with "Ma'am," and although he looked directly at her as he answered her questions, he mostly stared at the floor (or at her feet).
"Peter, do you have any problems working for a woman?"
His answer concluded the interview.
"No, ma'am... I would consider it an honor."
He began his new job three days later.
Misty was immediately impressed with his skills. His typing and computer knowledge was extensive, he kept her coffee cup filled without being asked, her daily appointments confirmed and materials and/or presentations needed were laid out and ready. He made her office a relaxing, comfortable place to be in.
One day, after he had been there a couple of months, he knocked on her door.
"The CEO just showed up with a couple of shakers... meeting in the Boardroom in 15 minutes."
Of all days! She had overslept that morning, and in her rush had simply thrown on the same skirt, blouse, and jacket she had worn the previous day.
******" she snapped, "I look like hell!"
His soothing voice both surprised... and calmed her.
"Ma'am... if I may help... I would be happy to iron your outfit and polish your shoes while you freshen up."
She looked at him, puzzled.
"I have an iron and black polish, Ma'am. I figured that someday you might be rushed, and... well... if you would just hand me your outfit... and don't worry. Hurry now!"
She closed her office door and undressed, then opened the door enough to hand him her clothes and shoes. As she stood in her private bathroom she smiled as she thought of his attentiveness and the lengths he was going to for her. As she washed her face she wondered about him... a tall, handsome 37 year old, who, she had earlier discovered, had never been married. Remembering that her lipstick was in her purse, which was on her desk, she walked into her office to retreive it. The office door was slightly ajar, and through the narrow opening she saw him sitting at heis desk... with her high heel pressed to his face. She stopped cold, watching him smell her shoes. She was rivited as she saw his tongue slowly lick the insoles of her pumps. "That's so strange," she thought, as she felt an unknown tingle run through her body... and she suddenly realized how wet her panties had become in the past 60 seconds. She ****** herself to turn away and hurry to apply her make-up.
when she returned to her office her suit was hanging on the back of the door, beautifully pressed, and her shoes were on the floor next to the door, impeccably polished. As she stepped into her shoe she thought about his tongue recently being there... and felt that strange tingling again... When she stepped out into the reception area he stood immediately.
"You look ravishing, Ma'am!"
She closed the distance between them, hugged him, and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
"Thank you so much, Peter. How can I ever thank you enough?"
With his eyes to the floor... and on her feet, he answered,
"You already have, Ma'am. Now hurry..."
As she stepped into the elevator, the true meaning of his answer struck her. Again she experienced the electrifying tingle as she thought about him smelling and licking her shoes. She glanced down to make sure her wet panties hadn't soaked through to her skirt.
That night, as she lay in bed, Misty yhought about the way men had treated her over the years. They were so crude... so demanding. Peter was so different... he was so quiet, so polite, and responded anxiously to her authority. She realized that she liked him, not only because of his work and manners, but because of his appearance. She admitted to herself that she was attracted to this man, but that if anything was to happen it would definately have to be her to make the initial gestures. Her mind kept returning to the image of him idolizing her high heels... and that was what he was doing... not simply kissing or smelling them, but idolizing them... adoring them... worshipping them. Her mind conjured up images of him at her feet, scurrying to obey her commands. He was naked as he served her in these images, and his penis was constantly erect as she demanded he grovel before her. Her body was screaming for release as she explored this new area of possibility, and her fingers slipped into the steaming wetness of her pussy. Within moments she exploded, her orgasm fueled by the thoughts of him serving her.
The next day Misty had SE's tiniest surveillance cameras installed in her bathroom and wired into the VCR and TV. Her next move was to invite him for dinner Saturday night. Misty was an excellent cook, and dinner was supurb. Afterwards he had excused himself to go to the bathroom. She was sitting on the couch, the TV filled with the scene in the bathroom, the VCR recording every moment. She smiled... she had purposely left her panties in plain view, hoping, that like her shoes, her intinate clothing would draw him into her web. She watched him inhale deeply, savoring the scents she had left in the panties. She eyed the swelling in his pants... wondering what his penis looked like... and felt the dampness in her own panties. His hands trembled as he held the panties out and looked at them in absolute adoration. He seemed reluctant to return them, but he finally did and joined her on the couch. They talked endlessly and it was well after midnight when they said good-bye. He had used the bathroom once more, and although his actions were being recorded, she didn't watch. She didn't have to. She knew what she would find, and she was right. When she walked into her bathroom and opened the hamper, her panties were gone.
Misty began inviting Peter over one or two nights a week. It turned out that he too was an excellent cook... would his talents ever cease to amaze her? He would cook, clean the kitchen, even clean her condo if she acted "tired." He also gave excellent manicures, and she smiled to herself, knowing that one day he would be giving pedicures as well! For three months she teased him. Some night he would find panties in the hamper... some nights stockings... and others, nothing. She would even leave her shoes in the bathroom on occassion... she had to laugh to herself as she watched tha tapes later as she realized he must be thinking of a way to get her shoes out of her condo without her noticing. She now had one and a half video tapes filled with his excursions to her bathroom. Although he didn't take every pair of panties or stockings she left, he had amassed quite a collection. He had started replacing ones he took with panties or stockings he had taken earlier.
He was bolder, too. He would drop his pants and play with himself as he sniffer her panties of shoes, stuffing his erection back into his pants... with difficulty... before returning to her. He would sit on the floor at her feet while she sat on the couch, casually rubbing her feet or legs. Finally she couldn't wait any longer. She wanted his shoe licking tongue on other parts of her body, and she felt three months of preparation was enough.
After an exquisite meal he excused himself, as usual. She had carefully prepared the bathroom for him, leaving the white nylon panties she had worn the previous day, and the stockings, on the top of pile of clothes, in plain sight. She had masturbated in those panties, and knew they were strongly scented with her most intimate smells and tastes. Her shoes were 'carelessly' tossed on the floor beside the hamper. As soon as he closed the door she switched on the TV and watched him go straight to her hamper. He dropped his pants and knelt in front of it, picking up one of her pumps and pressing it to his nose before sticking his penis into it. With his other hand he picked up both her panties and stockings and pressed them to his face. He moved her pump back and forth under his penis, rubbing the insole over the underside of his erection... he was fucking her shoe! Misty knew it was time... this was the moment. She quickly ran to the bathroom and threw open the door.
The look on his face was priceless. He quickly dropped everything and his face was redder than a traffic light. He started to mumble some sort of explanation, but she stopped him.
"Don't you think it's time you stopped sniffing my panties and shoes behind my back, Peter? Is this what you've been doing with all my panties and stockings that you've stolen and taken home? Didn't you think I'd notice?"
He was totally embarrassed... completely ashamed. He moved to get up, but she put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back to his knees.
"You stay on your knees until I get some answers."
He looked up at her with tears in her eyes.
"How... how long have you known?"
She told him about the first day at the office, with her shoes, three months ago. Then she pointed out the tiny camera, and explained the tapes of his "visits" to her bathroom.
"I know you took my white nylon panties the first night you were here, Peter."
He broke down, sobbing.
"Please, Miss Walker, Ma'am... I can't afford to lose this job! I'll do anything! Please, Ma'am... I didn't nean to hurt you in any way... please!"
She looked down at him, her smile one of antipation rather than anger.
"Oh Peter... quite the contrary. Now that I know about your little secret perversion, there are many, many more things I will be using you for... around the office, and here... Get undressed, Peter. Now!"
He quickly undressed and stood before her.
"Don't stand, Peter... kneel. ALWAYS kneel when you are before me, when we are alone."
As he knelt Misty picked up her panties from the floor, where he dropped them. She pulled them over his head and adjusted them so the moist, scented crotch covered his nose.
"Smelling my panties and stockings really makes your penis hard, doesn't it, Peter."
It was really more of a statement than a question, but he answered 'yes' anyway. She took one of her stockings and fastened his hands behind his back.
"I don't want you touching yourself... not yet, anyway. You wait right here, Peter.. I'll be right back."
As a final, humiliating act, she took one of her high heel pumps and hung it on his penis. She giggled as they watched it sway slightly to the rhythm of his throbbing penis. She closed the door behind her, leaving him alone to savor his ***********.
From her closet she brought out the new outfit she had purchased just for this occassion. A black leather micro miniskirt, leather garter belt, thigh high black patent leather boots with 5" spike heels, a tiny (actually useless) leather shelf bra that could, in no way, even begin to contain her enormous breasts, and the sheerest pair of black panties she could find. She kept on the stockings she had worn to work that day. By the time she finished lacing her boots, her panties were soaked. Slipping into a floor length black satin robe, she returned to the bathroom.
"Follow me, Peter... on your knees, and don't drop my shoe!"
She watched, amused, as his knees made the tiniest of 'steps' so as not to drop her pump from his penis. Once in her living room she stood in front of the recliner and let the robe slip from her shoulders and fall to the floor. His gasp was very loud.
"OHHHHHHH.... Miss Walker..."
She sensuously ran her hands over her stomach and ribs, cupping her huge, jutting breasts in her palms, fingering her nipples with her long nails. His penis throbbed painfully, her shoe swinging wildly.
"I hope you aren't going to cum in my shoe, Peter... at least, not yet. Now, I have some specific questions and I want some very specific answers. VERY specific... do you understand, Peter? Don't lie to me, Peter... it would be very detremental to you, in your position."
She sat down and crossed her legs, her boot tip bouncing only inches from his face. His gaze was intense. Sipping her *****, she seemed very casual about her questioning.
"Now, Peter, how many pairs of my panties have you stolen from me?"
His face reddened, again. He knew it would be futile to try to lie at this point... she had caught him, and obviously knew everything anyway... she was just 'checking' his honesty.
"Nine, Ma'am. I have nine pairs of your panties."
She smiled.
"Nine... very good, Peter. You keep them, and tomorrow I expect you to be here to present me with nine new pair of panties. And, starting Monday morning, you will begin wearing my old panties to work... unwashed. Do you understand, Peter?"
Again he acknowledged that he understood.
"Now tell me, Peter... what have you been doing with my nasty, dirty panties... do you masturbate with them? Do you sniff one pair and ejaculate in another?"
He broke down again, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Please, Miss Walker... please don't do this to me. I am so sorry."
Her voice changed, taking on a stricter tone.
"Answer me, Peter! Your job and your reputation are sofe as long as you are honest with me... but, lie to me and I will humiliate you beyond your worst nightmare."
He was ******* on his words as he spoke.
"I... do smell them, Miss Walker... and sometimes I... I rub my... my cock in them, but I would never cum in them. I would never defile them like that."
Misty could not believe how turned on she was, seeing him kneeling before her, totally humiliated. Her panties were absolutely soaked, and that tingling sensation... that feeling of... of power... was surging through her body.
"You look so silly with my panties on your head, Peter. Lick them. I want to see your tongue licking my panty crotch. Have you licked my other panties, Peter? Have you tried to taste my pussy on my panties that you stole?"
He admitted that he had. She watched his tongue anxiously lick her panty crotch, trying to taste any juices her oozing pussy had left there. She was excited by his fetish, not repulsed by it.
"And my stockings, Peter... how many?"
"Four, Ma'am."
She prompted him for an admission that he also used them to masturbate with. She pulled her panties from his head and tossed them aside.
"Peter, I need to find out just how good your tongue really is. Kiss my boots... start at the toes and work your way back to the heels, then up the calves. I want to see your tongue cleaning and polishing them, Peter. If you show promise with your tongue, perhaps I could find other uses for it as well."
Back and forth he went, from one boot to the other... from the one swaying in front of his face to the one on the floor. It was difficult, with his hands tied behind him, but he managed, his penis remaining erect the entire time. When he reached her knees she had to uncross her legs and part them to allow him access to the upper parts of her boots. His eyes were drawn to the tiny, saturated strip of nylon that covered, but didn't hide, her oozing pussy. She tapped him on the shoulder.
"My boots, Peter. Pay attention to my boots."
Soon he reached the tops, and she had to push him away as he started to kiss her stocking tops and creamy inner thighs.
"Down, boy... not so fast. You have alot of work to do yet..."
She unzipped her boots and slipped them off, directing him to her stocking clad feet, rich with the scent of sweat and fresh leather. Again he worshipped his way up her feet and legs, to the very tops of her stockings and garter snaps. Again she pushed him away, a difficult decision for her, bacause his mouth was producing exquisite sensations in her body as he worshipped her legs, making her pussy cream. She raised her legs and draped them over the arms of the recliner. She slid forward until her ass was resting on the very edge of the seat, Her tiny wet panties were stretched obscenely tight over her pussy, the narrow strip of transparant nylon not completely covering her swollen lips. Her swollen clit was plainly visible, its tiny hood pulled back, and throbbed with her every heartbeat.
"Would you like to use your tongue some more, Peter?"
He was begging in an instant. Hearing a man, on his knees, naked, bound and helpless, begging for permission to lick her wet panties, turned her on more than she could ever imagine. Her pussy was oozing so much nectar she felt as though she was pissing her panties. She managed to stand, turn around, and thrust her panty clad bottom in his face.
"Kiss, Peter."
His mouth was on her panties in less than a second. Misty couldn't believe the sensations... the exquisite pleasure he was giving her. His tongue traced the outline of her panties where they hugged her lush cheeks, and his lips left kisses on her burning flesh. They were both consumed with desire. She wanted more.
"Take my panties off, Peter... with your mouth. Be careful... no teeth..."
It took some effort, since they were so tight, but he finally ma
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