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Sunday morning began as every morning over the last month did. The light snapped on and Michael awoke- exhausted, deliriously horny and frazzled from his perpetually light sleep, his body pulling against the ankle and wrist cuffs securing him to the double bed as the vibrating butt plug finally stopped its relentless stimulation of his prostate. Ms. Choi removed the noise canceling headphones from Michael’s head, unbuckled the penis gag and pulled the massive intrusion out with a pop. Michael gasped loudly, welcoming the rush of available air after a night of only being able to sip air through Ms. Choi’s dank used panties covering his nose. Ms. Choi next removed her panties from over his head, revealing herself to Michael’s sight. Today she wore her dark grey silk and lace babydoll that accentuated her cleavage and through which he could see her pink push-up bra and silken panties, balanced on six inch tall maribou trimmed red platform sandals. She stood over him, tall and Rubenesque. A powerful woman exuding dominance and sex. She smiled, but it was laced with the sadism of a woman who was in control and knew how to push his buttons.
His cock responded immediately at this vision of a goddess and pushed uselessly his cock cage. Ms. Choi traced around the stretch marks and buckle marks from the penis gag harness with her forefinger and slowly dragged her glossy silver nail down his chest, flicking one nipple then the other, smiling sinfully at his involuntary arching and groaning, then continuing her journey down to the panties that began this whole adventure. He watched her as she explored him, knowing that he would be punished if he looked away. Her finger slipped across the pink satin that was drenched in his precum, tapping gently against his fully swollen cage, revealing a sticky line of precum glistening and connecting her finger to his panty and caged wrapped aching cock.
Her expression changed to a false frown. “Oh, no. Pantyboy all wet and excited. Naughty. Naughty. Naughty. Pantyboy, ” each word accentuated with an increasingly firm tap to the tip of the cage encased by wet panties. Her voice a whisper of fake surprise, “Why so excited? You a pervert. Pantyboy.” Then wrapping her hand around his swollen balls, squeezing slowly, then firmly. His back arched, unable to escape her grip. She released his balls and retraced the fresh pulse of precum, gathering it on her fingernail and smiling brightly as she fed it between his lips. He knew his place and pursed zonguldak escort his lips, sucking on her finger gently, tasting the salty sweet result of her demented teasing.
Her finger pushed harder into his mouth and he sucked it in. Ms. Choi whispered with arch sweetness, “How did pet sleep?” knowing full well the answer. Each night was one of glorious endless teasing and torture. Every night in the last month she strapped him in, plugged ass and mouth, endlessly looping porno sounds of sissies getting pounded in the ass by huge cocks played at high volume through the noise canceling headphones. The vibrations from the buttplug tracked the arousal of the actors in the tawdry sex scenes, intensifying with the sounds of their approaching orgasms and beginning slowly anew as the loop played around. In this time, he had not cum once- the perpetual arousal and lack of sleep leaving him frazzled, raw and completely malleable to her whims and desires. Michael was convinced that if he went another day without release from this torture, his mind would snap. She smiled and pulled her finger out of his mouth with a pop. “You good pet. Obedient. Work hard. Maybe you get reward.”
Michael didn’t dare believe her and watched in vain as her silver fingernails closed around his right nipple and pinched hard, his whimper muted by her left hand covering his mouth tightly. So it began anew…
It had all started a few months before with a simple question.
“How come I no see your wife?” Ms. Choi had asked Michael curtly as she placed the bag of his washed and folded laundry on the counter. Michael had been going to Choi’s Cleaners once a week for a month since he started this consulting assignment in Seattle and was glad that he’d made it through the doors just before closing time.
“Ms. Choi, unfortunately I’m not married” Michael stammered out an answer.
“No girlfriend?” came the fast retort.
“Alas no…” Michael started to reply.
“You gay” Ms. Choi cut him off with her half statement, half question.
“No, I’m not…I just haven’t met the right girl’, Michael bristled, uncomfortable with the turn in the conversation from pleasantries to the too personal assumption from this woman whom he secretly worshipped.
“You gay” came her response as she pulled from under the counter a pair of bright pink satin panties. She dangled them off a perfectly painted brushed silver fingernail, right in front of his face, eyes tunalı escort bright with excitement, watching his expression closely.
Michael had started to protest at her accusation but blushed furiously at the reveal.
“You a panty boy?” Ms. Choi asked, her voice up an octave with the rhetorical question, eye brow arched.
“No,” Michael replied, his voice with far more quaver at the embarrassing situation but trying to take back control, “Those were in my laundry bag when I first picked up my laundry,” he explained lamely.
“Then why you no give them back. And they have pantyboy mess in them, ” Ms. Choi’s nose wrinkled in disgust. The panties swung a bit as Ms. Choi waggled her finger, her voice taking on a sing song quality, “You a panty boy. You make mess in panties like nasty little boy. No friend. Paaaanty boyyy…” Her smile grew.
Michael’s face got hotter. Busted. He looked down and away, unable to meet her eyes.
It was always like this- the first day he’d walked into Choi’s a month before, he’d almost knocked her over entering the door, She was teetering on high heels reaching for some hangers and the door hit her. The hangers skittered across the floor and she bent down from the waist, her tight black miniskirt stretching across her ass, revealing not just her pantyline, but also hitching up a bit, showing her muscular thighs straining atop her cork soled black platform heels. A flash of pink satin above the waistband. She stood quickly and turned on him, the moment broken, “Watch where you going!” Her eyes flashed outrage. Michael blushed hard and looked away, struck mute in her beauty and dominant presence. He tried (and failed) not to stare at her substantial cleavage being thrust up by her red silk bustier against her grey lambskin short jacket. Her perfume filled the air and Michael felt a little giddy and unsteady. She brusquely took his laundry and dismissed him, smiling at his discomfort and shaking hand as he wrote down his name and telephone number on the laundry slip.
He’d found a pair of bright pink satin panties in his laundry bag after picking up his laundry the first time and was sure they were hers. Once he noticed the stains on the crotch and smelled them, he couldn’t stop jacking off into the panties while thinking of Ms. Choi telling him what to do. Each time he brought in laundry, she mocked him a bit and was clearly amused at the discomfort her dominance created in him, until tunceli escort this last time when he unwittingly left the panties, wet with his repeated emissions, in the laundry that he dropped off.
Her sharp voice cut through his reverie, returning him to the moment, “I no clean panty boy panties. You a pervert panty boy, no?”
Her question hung in the air, offering him a way out if he was just brave enough to admit the truth. She strode to the door, locking it and flipping the open sign to closed. She walked right in front of him, eyes blazing and still dangling the panties from her hand.
“No..” Michael started.
“You like mess panties, pervert pantyboy, don’t you? Wrap you little peepee in panties and stroking, hmmm?” Ms Choi made a little jerking motion with her hand, the offending panties waving in response.
Michael felt his cock hardening at her accusations, his thoughts slowing to a crawl as his arousal raised.
“You little strokeboy with girly panties. No girlfriend want pantyboy.”
His embarrassment peaked, his cock tenting.
“Little pantyboy peepee getting hard,” Ms. Choi laughed pointedly, “You a little pantyboy, aren’t you? Aren’t you?” her hand reaching out, unzipping his fly. “Aren’t you?” her hand deftly extracting his pulsing cock from inside his trousers, stroking it slowly with the satin.
Michael moaned, his pride sliding with each stroke.
The stroking stopped. “Look at me,” Ms. Choi whispered tightly, breaking the spell. Michael’s eyelids fluttered open to see her staring hotly into his eyes. “You a panty boy.” He nodded a little, not trusting himself to speak. The stroking started again, excruciatingly slow. “You my panty boy, aren’t you?” His breath was heaving as she stroked harder and faster. “Say it. Say you my pantyboy.” His eyes started to close with the intense pleasure but she tightened her grip, reminding him to open his eyes.
“I’m..” he tried to say, her hand quickening still, insistent.
“I’m your…” his voice now not his own. Out of his control…
Her smile broadened and her hand twisted cruelly, forcing him to shift his feet in order to keep from falling over.
“Say it, jerkoff. Little boy make mess in panties,” her other hand dropped to his balls, pulling them down hard in his pants.
“You my pantyboy.” The hand stroked anew, slowly maintaining the edge. “You my bitchboy now. I train you like dog. No cummies unless I say,” her fingers gripped Michael’s shaft tightly, “You obey me, no matter what. Pantyboy.”
“I’m your pantyboy,” he cried, just on the edge and about to spill into the satiny twisting fabric.
Her hand stopped, a broad smile of victory across her face.
“You coming home with me, pantyboy.”
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