Kitten: A Pantyboy Storybypantyboy4mistress©
It's easy now to look back and play armchair psychiatrist and see where my fetish for school uniforms and cute cotton panties started, but it wasn't until I met MISTRESS that I realized exactly how deep that fetish was ingrained in my mind and soul.
Mistress knew I was a pantyboy after the first few seconds we met. Or so she likes to remind me. She didn't need to know that I had attended a Catholic private school growing up. She said it was written all over my face, especially when I ran my hands across the silky, sexy underthings she wore.
She's had me tell her again and again how wonderful panties feel against my skin and my cock, especially when I am wearing delicious little satin teasers and stroking myself.
She's even made me write it on a chalkboard, after she's dressed me in my little plaid skirt and white cotton panties. Over and over again, even dotting my I's with little hearts or smiley faces.
"I am Mistress' pantyboy and I will do what she says without hesitation and wear what she tells me to wear. I love the feel of panties against my pantyboy bottom and cock."
Her fetish is as strong as mine, she tells me, as I sit at her feet, painting her toenails. She has a passion for men in panties and says she can't remember when the thought of men in panties didn't make her pussy wet. Then she tells me that I am the perfect pantyboy. She's never met anyone like me before.
Mistress is in control of me and everything that happens in our relationship. I don't mind. I worship Mistress and I am so lucky to have found someone who understands my compulsion and who lets me play. And she does let me play.
Her control of me started slowly, methodically. We started as all couples do with a few dates. Then there were sleepovers at the other's house. Then there was the fateful night when she caught me masturbating with a pair of her panties. My life changed from that very moment.
Over the last year, Mistress has grown much bolder and my adventures out into the world, dressed in the prettiest or the cutest of panties have become the source of excitement and dread but always end up with well-soaked panties. Mine and hers.
Mistress always takes me shopping for panties when I am in the need of a new pair or pairs, which is usually the case. We can never just buy one pair. There all just so delicious. I want to wear them all and feel all those splendid materials against my smooth skin.
Each trip to our favorite lingerie departments is the same. We walk among the displays and she has me touch everything. As I do, she tells me, in a not so quiet voice, just how lovely and sexy I would look in whatever we were admiring. If a salesperson asks if we need help, I must confess that the panties we are buying are for me. I must also say "I am a pantyboy and under my mistress' control."
Most of the women who have waited on me seemed intrigued by this and some have even become my-for the lack of a better word-personal shopper and assisted me in finding just the right panties that would please my mistress. Some even suggested I try them on and model my pretties for them as they have always wanted to see a prissy little pantyboy. Mistress of course instructs me to oblige their request.
These adventures and my humiliation thrill Mistress to no end. It has both humiliated me and thrilled me to the point of creating a creamy mess in my panties. A mess, I might I add, which I have to clean with my mouth when we get back home. As I suck my juices from my panties, Mistress opens our shopping bags and lays out all my pretties. Then she lets me choose which pair I would like to wear.
Mistress has a short temper and if I displease her in any way, punishment comes in many forms.
Spanking is her favorite tool for discipline and my boyish, round, shaved bottom has found itself over her lap on many occasions, quivering, in anticipation of what it is to come.
Mistress love to spank her naughty pantyboy.
Sometimes I wear thick cotton panties with cute little designs on them. This, says Mistress, is to remind me of my status in our relationship.
Sometimes the panties are made of thin satin and offer no protection from her hard blows on my soft cheeks. After my spankings I am made to stand in the corner of the bedroom, panties pulled to my knees for the whole world to see.
Mistress has taken several photos of me in this position and keeps them, with all ours, in my special PANTYBOY Memory Book.
Several months after my inner pantyboy was revealed, Mistress began looking on-line for certain items she insisted be part of my special wardrobe.
One of these items turned out to be a complete Catholic school girl uniform complete with short, sassy little plaid skirt, white knee socks, white blouse and white training bra. She was even able to find a company on-line that made women's shoes for men and she ordered me a pair of saddle shoes.
Of course all the panties I wear with this uniform are the regulation white cotton. Sometimes I am allowed to wear panties that features a soft pastel motif, like little flowers or butterflies.
Once, while wearing my school girl attire, I was made to answer the door for the UPS man, a very surprised black man who got quite the show when I bent over to pick up the pencil I had 'accidentally' dropped. I was wearing little thong panties that day and the material disappeared into my crack and revealed my pink cheeks. Mistress always thinks of everything. Mistress teased that the delivery man had liked what he had seen and maybe we should invite him in next. Then she made me tell her what I would do to him once I was on my knees in front of him, my little plaid skirt and blouse in a pile on the floor next to me.
Mistress had a name for me when I was dressed as her pantyboy school girl.
She said I looked like a kitten when I was between her gorgeous legs, lapping at her wet pussy, licking at the juices which flowed molten hot. She said she had an image of me between the muscular legs of a real man, right after the blowjob I had given him, lapping up whatever spilt on his flat, washboard stomach.
KITTEN was the perfect name for me.
Who was I to argue?
"After all," she would ask as she stands behind me as I stare at my reflection in the 3 way mirror that dominates our dressing room, "what kind of a man allows himself to be pantied and spanked and treated like a plaything? You are my Kitten. My precious little Kitten."
Mistress has even paid a seamstress to create a special pair of panties for me. My party panties, as Mistress calls them, are a most exquisite white satin with pink ruffled edging along the leg openings and doubled waistband. The word 'KITTEN' has been stitched in pink across the seat directly under a small pink bow.
Mistress took me to the woman's shop and made me model the panties for both of them. It was incredibly humiliating but it made Mistress very happy. The seamstress was thrilled to see me wearing her creation and offered to make me more. There would be no charge as long as after each pair was completed I would model them for her and whoever she invited.
Mistress said of course.
I smiled nervously as Mistress traced a finger along the ruffles stretched across my bottom.
One day, after a particularly hot session, as I lay on my stomach and Mistress rubbed my bottom gently, telling me how perfect my little bottom was, she announced that was toying with the idea of getting me a tattoo.
Before I could protest she reassured me that it was just an idea, but she was thinking seriously about it. Besides, she added, what difference did it make what I wanted? If she wanted me to get a tattoo, then I would get a tattoo. She enunciated her point with a hard slap to my left buttcheek.
I bit my lip and said, "Mistress. Whatever you desire."
She said she was thinking about getting the word 'kitten' tattooed in pink on my lovely little bottom.
She saw my face and then added. "And if someone doesn't take that pouty look off their face, I will have the word 'PANTYBOY' tattooed on their pretty little forehead."
I knew she meant it too.
As she ran her long red fingernail along my inner thigh and up between my cheeks and along my tender little pucker, she hinted that she would not give me any money to pay for my tattoo and that I would have to 'pay my way' in some other fashion. She let my imagination run wild as to what that could have meant. And it did and as she slipped a finger inside me, I released my orgasm onto the satin sheets.
Sometimes Mistress has me experiment with light traces of makeup and has instructed me in the art of making myself look pretty. But it's important to know that she wasn't trying to turn me into a girl.
"I could have any pretty girl I wanted," she boasted. "But I don't want a girl. I want a man. A man in panties. Pretty panties stretched across his little smooth bottom."
I was a male, by all accounts, I was just a male in pretty panties and I knew that by remaining male in appearance, my humiliation was intensified. Mistress wants me to remain looking like a male and so my hair was kept short. I was not allowed to have a goatee or mustache and my body hair is removed regularly. She especially likes to shave my bottom and crotch, telling me she knows I love the feeling of my pretty underthings against my smooth skin.
She's right. The feeling of my satin panties against my smooth cock and balls, and even my ass, feels like a million little electric charges traveling across my body. It is so hard to control myself.
She tells me every day I am her pantyboy and hers alone.
Mistress has introduced me to her special movie collection and I always looked forward to our movie nights together.
Dressed in panties and a camisole or negligee, Mistress and I will watch movies that feature she-males and transsexuals and gay males. Some of the movies involved men like me, submissive men in pretty panties, being put over a dominant woman's lap and spanked. I liked those movies and the front of my panties were usually wet without having even touched myself.
A large part of Mistress' collection featured movies in which women with long, hard strap-on dildoes were fucking both straight and gay men. She told me she wanted to get used to seeing long hard cocks sliding in and out of men's asses. She would make me touch myself and think what it must be like to have such a big hard cock sliding in and out of such a tight little hole. She whispers to me "Do you like, Kitten? Doesn't that look like fun? Look at that man's face. He is surely enjoying himself. Look how hard his own cock is as that huge hard cock slides in...and...out of him."
I usually can't last too long when we are watching those movies and she is fingering my little hole.
Sometimes I am allowed to fuck her during the movies or after. Sometimes I am allowed to jerk myself off into my panties while she plays with herself, watching me, eyes closed, hand sliding into my pretty panties playing with my cock and ass.
But these times, like all our times together are about her being in control and HER pleasure.
I knew she loved the movies in which a woman wearing a strap-on cock was fucking some pretty young thing, were the movies that seemed to excite her the most. Usually because by the time I am allowed to crawl between her legs and pleasure her, she is soaking wet and molten hot. As I lick and kiss her pussy to a shuddering climax,
As we watch the powerful woman on the television long-stroke her panty-wearing sex toy, she will place a finger under my chin and lift raise my eyes to meet her gaze.
"Does PantyBoy like that?" she will ask.
"Does my sweet little PantyBoy want Mistress to do that to him. Does he want a long hard dildo inside his tight little pussy?"
She will then grab my cock or slide a finger along my asscrack, teasing my little puckered hole and whisper into my ear.
"Or does my PantyBoy want...need...crave the real thing?"
Just about three months ago, Mistress began introducing 'toys' to our playtime. She started with small vibrators and plugs. She said she had to break me in slowly. She said she would never want to hurt me and I trusted her.
I loved the toys she bought. I was a virgin when it came to things larger than a finger or two and she was careful about the things she was buying. They were all pink and small. Some vibrated and some didn't.
She would have me get on all fours on the bed and slowly tease me, sliding the toys up and down my crack, brushing it against my boy-pussy, as she called it, until I begged her to slide them into my hungry hole. That usually didn't take too long.
Sometimes, with my white cotton panties pulled back into place and my plaid skirt smoothed out, she would have me sit on our king-sized bed, or a hard wooden stool, and grind my naughty pantyboy bottom down onto the plug that was stretching my ass and driving me to new pleasures.
Pleasures that I was craving more and more as playtime with Mistress continued and I became more submissive and addicted to my pretty panties.
Sometimes we 69'd and she would fuck me with my toys as I tongued and licked her magnificent pussy to explosive orgasm.
Two weeks ago Mistress brought home a new dvd and I knew my life was about to take a wild turn.
In the video a slender, white man was being dressed en femme by his mistress. He was dressed a little too whorish for my standards, in leather mini-skirt and heels and a small top, but that's not what got my attention.
As the story progressed and the Mistress dressed her little pet to slutty perfection, it's little cock tucked away between his legs and encased in sexy red satin panties, two men entered the scene.
The men were black and obviously spent a lot of time in the gym. They were dark skinned and looked to be carved from marble. Their stomachs were flat and their legs like tree trunks. Their arms bulged and their black nipples rested on perfectly formed pecs. Their asses were toned and magnificent.
And jutting from between their legs were two of the biggest cocks I had ever seen. Clearly at least 10 inches. Thick and heavily veined with large purple-black mushroom heads that glistened with precum. I swear I could smell the musky aroma of their man-sex through our HD tv.
I watched in fascination at heir black cocks. One curved a little to the right and stood straight up against the man's stomach. The other's hung down almost to his knees like a sleeping anaconda.
Their balls hung heavy in their sacks like lemons and swung with pendulous rhythm as they walked towards the younger white man.
I had seen black cocks before in locker rooms before and had thought about what it would be like to be fucked by something that big.
I was about to get a good idea because on the screen in front of me, the two ebony statues approached the cross-dressed man before them as the Mistress who had arranged the party watched from a high-backed chair.
She smiled as her pantyboy pleasured both men with his mouth and pussy. The pantyboy swallowed both, choking at first but then got used to the monster cocks. He bathed their heavy, cum-filled balls with his tongue and red, lipstick smeared mouth. He whimpered and moaned as they belittled him by calling him "little bitch" and "little white cocksucker." A voice in the back of my mind told me I wanted to be called names like that by men like that.
In the climax of the movie, no pun intended, the slender white man took the men from both ends. The men, their black skin glistening with sweat, thrust their hard cocks into him all the while grunting like two wild animals.
The one in front grabbed his head and forced fed him the mushroom head of his steel rod. The one behind him pulled almost all the way out and then thrust forward violently, his balls slapping those tender white cheeks hard and fast. He even spanked the man as he fucked him and chastised him.
It was one of the hottest things I had ever seen and I worried about the ramifications of those feelings.
Did I secretly wish to be like that pantyboy in the movie? Did I want a real cock...not a silicone one sliding into my mouth...or ass...or both at the same time?
Did I secretly crave black cock in my pantyboy pussy?
And more importantly, did my Mistress think I did?
The answer was simple for the front of my yellow cotton panties, the ones with the little black and white daises, were soaked with my own silent orgasm and as Mistress turned off the tv and directed me to the molten sex between her legs, she patted my head and whispered, "I thought as much, my little Kitten. I thought as much."