tagFetishLiza's in Control

Liza's in Control

byshyones©

The knock at the door was light, plaintive. It was a mild, perhaps even reluctant request to which my spirit murmured a soft, "no."

I just couldn't answer the door. I needed time to breathe. I had to think through the events that brought me to this cum-soaked couch. I had some things to figure out, some decisions to make. I had to regain control of my runaway emotions, my life. Hell, I needed a drink of water.

I was parched. During the past hour I had clogged reservoirs with snot, cried rivers and masturbated enough to flood the Sahara. Okay, you get the idea. I needed a drink of water.

I got up to drink, not answer the door. I wanted that knocking, that gentle rasping, to go away. I ignored it as I emptied the first glass. I bent over backward to drain the last drop as I stood at the sink. In bending, the short hem of my chemise rode up to expose my pantyless pussy. It touched the cool, metallic counter. God, that felt good. As I gulped down a second, my mind was able to wander from body's immediate needs to engage memory.

I thought about the spanking I'd just received from my landlord, Ms Thomas. I reached involuntarily to stroke my buttocks. Yep, still sore. Her words, "next time the hairbrush," echoed in my ears. Damn! What was I going to do? I needed to talk to somebody. She warned me, though. "Not even your husband," she said. He loves this apartment so much. I can't risk getting us thrown out. What was I going to do? How could I release her hold on me? I reached involuntarily to my pussy. Yep, still wet. How could I get hot over something so degrading? What was I going to do?

After I swallowed the last from the third glass of water, I felt somewhat refreshed. The knocking at the door was becoming less patient, though, so I finally decided to answer it. I wiped my nose, then my pussy, on the kitchen towel and went to the door.

"Are you okay?" It was Ally, the leasing agent who shared my troubles.

I opened the door for her to come in and nodded.

"I knocked and knocked. Are you sure you're okay?"

I thought I was ready to confront reality, talk to someone, but seeing her was more than I could handle at the moment. I walked to my bedroom, crawled into my still unmade bed and covered my head. She followed me. Damn!

"I need to talk to you. Ms. Thomas sent me to check on you."

'Oh, god,' I thought to myself. 'This is all I need. Does it ever end? When can I just stop and get my bearings. I need to find a context for these spiraling events. Couldn't I have a little vacation? Please, god?'

"I'm on your side, Liza. Please don't shut me out. I need to talk to you."

Slowly, tentatively, I lowered the cover from my head. I looked at her. I waited for her to begin.

"That's better. Really. I'm here to help you. Trust me."

Oh, god. The two most suspect phrases in any language and she said them both without taking a breath. I recovered my head.

"Well, cover your head if you like. I'm going to put this lotion on you no matter what, and I don't need to see your head to do it."

She lifted the covers at the foot of the bed and piled them higher on my upper half. Since I was already face down, my naked buttocks were right there for her to begin her ministrations. I felt the coolness of the lotion sink into my welts. I felt the muscles in my entire body relax. This was nice. Her gentle hands rubbed delicately that which just minutes ago were so cruelly abused. Yes, I liked it.

"No one has ever done such a nice thing for me," she said. "Ms Thomas wasn't kidding when she said your welts earned me my job. If you hadn't taken that spanking, I'd be without a job, I know it."

She bent down and kissed my bare behind!

Well, as you can imagine, it was time for me to come out of my shell and see what millennium it was. I threw off the covers and sat up. That only encouraged her, though. She threw herself around my waist and wept.

"Please, please." I struggled to disentangle myself from her.

"Tell me you forgive me," she cried. "It's all my fault. Don't hate me."

Oh, boy. Now I was on the hook. What else could I do, but say, "Don't cry, I don't blame you," huh? Yep, that's what I said.

She sat up and wiped her eyes. They shinned with a brilliance I'd evidently missed when I was fixated on her panties earlier. I smiled as I remembered how she played with herself through her panties, as would a five-year-old. I forgave her even that, now.

"We're going to be great friends. You'll see." Ally clasped me about the neck this time.

"Please, please," I struggled again to disentangle myself.

"I need to tell you what she said. It's awful." Ally managed to get my attention if she didn't have it before.

"I'm to spy on you. I have to report everything." She looked me straight in the eyes.

I felt nauseous. Would this nightmare ever end?

"I understand," I heard myself say. I patted her on the back, since her torso was still glued to my own. "It will be alright."

Curiously, for the first time since she smothered me, I felt her. The curves of her body suddenly took shape, right down to the hard nipples which punctured my chest. I felt the heat of her breasts against my own. I was suddenly aware of her breathing, and I matched its cadence. Then, just as suddenly, she released me and sat apart. She looked at me. I longed for her touch.

"Can I tell you something?" She asked.

"Anything, of course."

"When I saw you standing in the corner, you know, after your spanking, with your dress pulled up to you hips, your red ass for all to see (Oh, god. I was hit by another wave of nausea and humiliation), well, I thought you were beautiful. The most beautiful woman I'd ever seen."

How does one respond to that? I just stared at her, dumbfounded.

"Tell me. I've got to know. How did it feel to take that spanking, to stand there like that? You must tell me."

"It's not something I can describe: I haven't the words." I said in a hushed, humiliated voice.

"But you did bear it! I never could have."

"We all do what we must," I replied matter-of-factly, heroically.

We sat on the bed and looked at each other, each appraising, coming to grips with, the other. She was cross-legged, now. Her business suit rumpled and pulled out of shape. The skirt was around her waist. Her white, satin panties were as tight as I remembered. They were moist now, though. I looked at them, and when I did her hand went to her mound. Her fingers weren't there to cover, but to press and probe. I raised an inquisitive eyebrow, my most aggressive act in recent memory.

"It's...a...nervous habit," she said haltingly.

I knitted my brows rather that respond.

"It's soothing. When I'm nervous, the feel of my panties against my skin is something that...well, I don't know..." her voice trailed away. "Don't you love it, too? God, it feels great."

I smiled. So that was it. She was just a little girl, playing with her panties.

"You understand, don't you?" she pressed me for a response.

"Yes, I guess so," I wanted to be agreeable. "But I haven't had much opportunity lately." I laughed lightly.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'm beginning to forget what panties feel like," I laughed. "We lost mine during our move."

"What?"

"I haven't worn panties for two days. The boxes they were in were lost."

"So, that's it. Ms. Thomas wanted to know why you were running around without panties. Now, I can tell her the reason. She'll understand, now. God, that's a load off."

"She sent you here to find out about my panties?" I asked in an incredulous tone.

"Don't worry. It's all right, now. She'll understand."

"You're going to tell her what I just said?"

"Well, of course. I have to. I told you that."

"You're really going to tell her everything I say and do?"

"I have to..."

"Please don't. Leave me one shred of dignity, please."

Ally didn't respond right away. She bowed her head to avoid my eyes. Her hand went inside her panties and she ran it along the inside from her clitoris to her ass hole; back and forth, rhythmically.

"Ms Thomas says you have to wear panties," she brought out at last.

"I don't have any."

"I can't let you go around without panties."

"I don't have any," I repeated. "And I have to have lunch with my husband at noon. He's expecting me."

"You'll have to take mine, then. That's the only way."

"What?"

As I watched her like an imbecile might listen to a poetry reading, she slid her panties down her legs. She pulled them past her feet and held them out for me as if presenting me with a gift. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"Please make it easy for all of us. If you don't take them, I'll have to tell Ms Thomas."

Now, I wanted to cry. The idea of wearing this young girl's dirty, wet panties was repugnant. Nausea was becoming a frequent companion.

Ally reached for my left foot and drew it to her. I watched as she did it. She placed the foot through a leg-hole of the panty, then reached for my right foot. She repeated the process and then began to push her smelly undergarment up my legs. As she passed my knees I obediently opened my thighs to assure passage to my crotch. I lifted my butt from the bed as she tugged at the garment to make it hug my crotch and hips. I settled back on the bed when her panties were snugly in place. She patted my pussy, just as she had her own when she was wearing them.

"See, don't they feel great," she intoned. Her hands continued to gently brush the satin over my growing clitoris. I closed my eyes and waited for it to end. Finally the rubbing stopped as she brought her hand to rest over my slit. She kept it there as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Don't you just love that?" she pressed.

"I have to pee." I looked at her earnestly. Morning's coffee and the three glasses of water had now had an effect, and I couldn't ignore the call. It was an honest way to politely extract myself from her and this awkward situation.

She didn't acknowledge my predicament, though. Instead, she settled in closer to me, making herself more comfortable to continue pressing her hand to me. I placed my arm around her shoulders as she cuddled close. She was such a dear, twenty-two year old child. I couldn't be cross with her. I couldn't even bring myself to ask her to remove her hand. I couldn't for the life of me do anything but accept her childish fascination with the feel of satin. It occurred to me that since I was wearing her panties, she had the right to touch them, and me in the process. Oh yes, I completely accepted her panties now, too. The idea was repulsive at first, I know, but it did make sense. I had to wear panties for Ms Thomas, that was for sure. Ally was doing me a great favor by allowing me to wear her panties. It all made perfectly good sense to me now as I sat there holding her, as she played with her panties. The wetness of her panties against me didn't even seem foreign anymore. They felt cool against my sore buttocks: I liked that.

"Liza, you'll be good from now on, won't you? I don't want Ms Thomas to spank you again."

"Yes, I'll be good," I chuckled. "I don't want another spanking, either."

"Good! I'll help you be good. You'll see. I won't ever have to tell Ms Thomas a lie. You'll see."

"You don't ever have to tell her the truth, either. Just don't tell her anything."

"I already told you, Liza. I have to make reports. She's expecting them. You know how she is. I could never get around her."

"Well, just go easy on me," I laughed, trying to make the situation a little lighter. "Now, I really do have to get up."

"Just another minute, please. I want to sit with you some more."

"You're going to have to press really hard, there, to prevent the accident that is headed our way if you don't let me up soon, though," I joked, trying to get her to understand the gravity of the situation.

"I'll help you hold it. You'll see. I'll help you," she said earnestly and with determination.

To say I was flabbergasted would be an understatement. I was just a few steps from the bathroom. Why on earth would I want to hold it? Life was making less and less sense the longer I lived.

"I really need..."

"I know. Just concentrate on it. Doesn't it feel luscious?"

In all my days, I've never used that particular adjective to describe the discomfort of needing to pee. Had I suddenly been cast into some sort of bizarre anti-world?

"No." I started to gently push her away.

"Just wait!" She held me tightly. "We'll work through this. You'll see. Sit still. It's going to get really good."

My thighs were now tightly clenched around her hand at my crotch. I even brought my own hand to press down on her wrist, to help her. My eyes were beginning to swim. I felt that the time had passed for me to even try to struggle free. Any such straining effort would surely cause me to empty my bladder on my brand-new bed.

"Please..."

"I do this all the time. You'll see. Just concentrate. Bear down. Feel the pressure. It is good, isn't it?"

I could feel the tip of her finger against my pee-hole. She'd somehow crawled inside the tight satin. I was glad. I was surprised that I was glad, but I was glad. She was a hero to me, suddenly: like the little Dutch boy with his finger in the dike, saving the whole city. My breathing became labored. I could feel the swelling in my nipples, as if they were filling with my pee, too. As my chemise brushed them I couldn't help but squirm. Goddamn! I was getting turned on.

"Just a few minutes more, then I'll take you to the bathroom, okay?"

I nodded slightly. I'd lost the power of speech. I just hung on to the idea that this was going to end. She would eventually take me to the bathroom. Her promise gave me hope. I wanted suddenly to do this for her. We were in this together. I'd suffer how ever long I must to make her proud of me. She would see. I could do this. I swayed gently back and forth. It seemed to help. I felt her head against mine. Her breast nuzzled my shoulder. I felt closer to her at that moment than I'd ever felt to another living being. I closed my eyes. I began to concentrate as she said, and then I began to count: one-mississippi, two-mississippi, and beyond. I passed sixty seconds, then started from one again. I lost track of how many times I passed sixty, and yet we just continued to sit there, and rock. Two bodies as one. In silence.

"Okay, it's time," she whispered in my ear.

I turned to her and opened my eyes. They were watering from the pressure my whole body was enduring, and I saw her as if through a pool of my own urine. Her eyes were kind, her expression tender.

"I want to wait a little longer," I heard myself say. At last, I was in control of something.

She kissed me on the cheek, wet with water from my eyes. I kissed her on the lips and felt one of her fingers apply pressure to my engorged clit. Now, added to the urgency to pee was the pressure of arousal. I felt my pussy getting wet, but not from the pee-hole. Her tongue invaded my mouth and our tongues danced the ancient dance.

I lost track of time, for that would have required mental activity. My body was in charge, now. Never before had I been so overcome by so many different sensations spanning the length of my body.

She gently guided our bodies at long last to the bathroom. She took charge of the walk, never once removing her hand from my pussy. We proceeded slowly, deliberately. Once in the bathroom she had me straddle the bowl while standing. I faced her and stood as straight as I could. I held the hem of my chemise so as not to obscure her view. She drew the panties to one side and told me to release my pee. I was ready to burst, but, surprisingly, the first few drops were slow to come. A small trickle preceded the steady stream. Now the biggest surprise of an already incredulous morning took place: she placed her hand in the stream and then, without being coaxed, I put my hand with hers and we shared the sensation. My building orgasm was released about mid-way through the peeing. I jerked and shuddered and the mixture of my urine and cum sprayed the satin panties, the hem of my chemise, and the floor of the bathroom.

After the last drop had been squeezed from me, she escorted me back to the bed, gently lay me on my back, spread my legs and began to lick my pussy dry. It was sensual, yes, but the intention was to clean, not arouse. When my pussy and butt had both been cleaned, she drew the panties back over my mound and continued to suck, making them smell of her saliva, my urine and cum. The combination was an intoxicating aroma, one I wanted with me always.

"Do you think you'll give me a good report to Ms Thomas?" I asked.

"Definitely," she smiled.

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