Panty slave stories

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I don't know why I married a panty slave. It's not like I didn't know about James' fetish before I said yes to his marriage proposal. He had been quite up front when we were dating about his desire to be controlled by a strong woman, and the instrument of her control was to be her underwear. He isn't into bondage or spanking or any of the more traditional bdsm fare, although Panty slave stories sometimes incorporate these things into our kinky love making. He also isn't selfish about his fetish; we don't play with my panties all the time.

In fact, James told me he would only play if and when I wanted to play. It is part of his need to be controlled, but also his generous way. I assure you, I get all the things I like in the bedroom on a much more frequent basis than he gets to enjoy his little predilection.

When I am in a mood to be kinky, to be in control of my man, and to give him what he craves; I don't have to say anything, in fact I can't say anything. To verbalize it ahead of time is even to this day too awkward for me. Instead, I slip a pair of my panties in his gym bag, or his brief case, or dangle them from the rearview mirror of his car before he leaves for work in the morning. This way at some point in the day he finds out that he is going to have it his way when he comes home.

James isn't a cross dresser, but upon finding my panties, he is supposed to take the first opportunity to put them on under his suit pants. I always leave him something silky or satiny. He loves the feel of the slippery material on his gorgeous cock, and hugging his buttocks. He likes me to wear bikinis, not the thongs that most men want to see on their women. I make him wear bikinis too, and they are always very feminine, in chick colors like pink or pearl or teal, with lacy trim or girly patterns. James is in shape; his muscular thighs and hips stretch the panties out, and form a tight silky prison for his cock.

He says he stays hard all day when he wears my underwear. I've never known him to lie to me. One day I even made a point of meeting him for lunch and inspected his panty encased dick, he was quite erect, of course that could have been because I made him show me in the elevator on the way down to the lobby of his office building.

James gets home from work before I do. On days when he has something frilly of mine on, he strips down to his panties and spends the hour he has to wait for me doing house chores. He works hard to allow us to have all the play time we will need that night. When I get home I am led to the couch by my man and am served a glass of wine, a flower; usually a rose, but often something else, and a plate of cheese and fruit. James has been hungry for me all day, and cannot wait for a traditional dinner and the usual end of day unwinding.

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The wine is to relax me, the rose is to thank me and the cheese and fruit are to restore my strength so I can ravage him. And I do. When I've sipped my wine, and smelled my rose, and sampled my cheese; I feed the final morsel to my love and whisper in his ear. I pull back the hem of my skirt, slowly, teasingly. I usually wear thigh high stockings on these days, the only day I dare. I'm typically more conservative, but I must admit feeling turned on in my flirty skirt and sexy lingerie during the day; imagining what I'm going to do to my kinky little lover later that evening. When I've pulled back the skirt far enough to reveal my stocking tops and the first hint of bare thigh I stop.

James leans over and kisses my stocking tops.

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The sensation of his lips caressing the spot where the stockings end and my bare leg begins is exquisite. His kisses are punctuated with little licks and nibbles here and there. The good news for both of us is that by this time I am one creamy chick. My arousal is such that I can continue with our sexy play with little in the way of inhibition, and he is about to get sex the way he loves it the most.

I pull Panty slave stories skirt back a little more, and encourage him to kiss my exposed skin. It is at this point that sometimes I blindfold him, denying him the look up my skirt that he is craving. Sometimes I make him stop altogether and pour me another glass of wine, prolonging his agony.

And sometimes I just pull my skirt all the way back and show James my panties. His eyes become fixated on them. He's mesmerized by the way they curve over my mound. His eyes scan over every part of my underwear, and my body. Typically there is evidence of my arousal in the crotch of my panties, eventually his wandering eyes find this damp spot and lock on. This is my cue to spread my legs a little wider and encourage him to come closer to the object of his desire.

He brings his mouth close to my panty covered pussy. It's almost like telling to eat his vegetables before desert, except my man loves his vegetables. His mouth finds the soft spot on my inner thigh, right below the leg opening of my panties.

He licks Panty slave stories kisses this spot with care not to get carried away and taste the for now forbidden fruit. Were I not so aroused, I'd be giggling from being tickled in this sensitive spot.

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Because I am aroused, a moan escapes my mouth, a little wetness escapes my Panty slave stories. He works his lips, tongue and teeth back down my inner thigh to my stocking top, then switches legs and works from the stocking top back up to my panties. His eyes tear themselves away from my still covered pussy, just long enough to lock with my eyes and silently plead for what he wants.

I make him wait. I love the way his blue eyes stare up at me from between my thighs, filled with pure desire. Once I give permission, it will be a while before I see them again. A smile creeps across my face as the moment extends just past comfortable. The feeling of the pressure of his mouth and the silkiness of my panties is divine. It is in this moment that I understand him and his kink, everything about the moment is pure sex.

He devours me, pulling my juices through my panties and onto his tongue, and I give him plenty to lick up. He is mindful of my clit and spends lots of time giving this part of my sex plenty of attention through the panties. Occasionally for variety sake he returns to my thighs or kisses my pelvic bone and hips, right Panty slave stories the waistband, but always returns quickly to my pantied pussy. He is not allowed to use his hands during this time, and he struggles with balance and keeping my legs where he wants them. He once complained, saying he could please me much more if his hands were in play.

I told him he pleases me without them, and he is to do as I say. He likes it when I am in charge. I like that I can essentially handcuff him without the need for handcuffs. It usually doesn't take him long to make me cum right there in my panties; gyrating against his mouth as I moan in ecstasy from his efforts. I usually put my hand on the back of his head and pull him into me while I orgasm. He tells me he loves the power of this position, his goddess pulling him to her while she writhes in pleasure. I'm always a little nervous I'm going to suffocate my husband in my cunt.

Which I think would make a funny headline. He stays between my thighs as I come down from my peak arousal, nuzzling my panties, but not daring to press too hard against my overly stimulated sex. When I've recovered enough to make my words come out right I command him to look at me.

His eyes find mine and I wait for him to do what he's supposed to do, we've done this too many times for me to have to command him. It never takes him too long to remember. It's quite a dominant feeling to be both the recipient of the orgasm, and then get thanked for allowing the man to give it to me. Take me to the bedroom. He grins and stands. His dick isn't very hard in his panties. I take it as another of his devotion. He was so into my orgasm, he forgot about his own cock.

He reaches out his hand and I take it.

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He helps me up from the couch and my skirt falls back into place. I feel extra naughty in my soaked panties as he guides me down the hall to our bedroom. Once there I find everything is the way it's supposed to be. The bed is made It wasn't when we left for work that morningall the clothes are picked up, candles provide the only light the room.

Panty slave stories

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