Under Her Spell

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Cuthbert
Cuthbert
92 Followers

"Yes."

"Well . . .?"

"Oh! I like your stockings. You have beautiful legs!"

She shifted to a sing-song voice, "That wasn't so hard, now, was it? And just like I told you to – so very obedient. I think you like to hear me tell you what to do, isn't that right Gene? You like doing as you're told!"

What could I say? It was true. "I . . . think so, yes. Oh! Um, yes, I do like you telling me what to do – it's very exciting. I have this strange desire to please you."

"Oh, it's not strange at all, honey. It's the most natural thing in the world, to want to please a lady. Do you know what would really please me right now?"

"What? Whatever it is, I'll do it. Just tell me. I want to!"

"I like my admirers to be very obedient, and compliant with my wishes. I will grant you certain special privileges provided that all our interactions are on my terms. Do you understand?"

"OK . . . yes, I understand. All on your terms," and when she raised an eyebrow, "All our interactions must be on your terms, and I have to do as you tell me."

"That's right! You're getting it. And you should also know that I will have many demands. Do you think you could handle that?"

"I'll try to. I mean, I want to. I think I'd like that."

"There's more. I expect you to be totally honest with me, especially with what you are feeling. Looking at me stirs up some strong feelings inside you, doesn't it, Geney?"

"Yes, it's a little overwhelming."

"I can help you with that Gene. Help you understand and explore those feelings. Would you like that?"

"Very much. I'd like that very much."

She stood up, stepped forward to me and held out her hand. As I took her hand she pulled me forward, but put her other hand on my shoulder and gently pushed me down as I slid off the chair onto my knees. She pushed me back to sit on my heels and said, "Stay right there." She walked around me and moved my chair off to the side of the rug, then circled me completely until she stood right in front of me. Her belly was level with and a foot in front of my face. It surprised me how intensely exciting such a simple act could be. Thoughts of overt sexual acts flashed through my mind. I desperately wanted to be intimately sexual with her. She had slightly different plans.

She placed two fingers under my chin and tipped it up so that I was looking up at her towering over me. Seeing her looking down at me like that made me feel very meek, even though she was smiling at me.

"Look at me, Gene. I want to see the look on your face as we do this."

I wasn't sure what 'this' was, but I did want to please her so I kept eye contact, even though it felt so intimate, but in an uncomfortably intimidating way.

She pet my hair and brushed it away from my eyes, leaned down and softly said to me, "I want to hear you ask for the privilege of admiring me, and I want to hear sincere yearning in your voice. Can you do that for me, Gene?"

I whispered a barely audible, "Yes," like it was confessing a dark secret that I was ashamed of.

"Then do it, Gene. Say it now. All of it. And mean it."

"I . . . um . . . Ms. Regina, you are so beautiful, and, um, I can't take my eyes off of you," I started out a little shakily, "and I want so much to admire everything about you. I know it is a privilege, and ask that you please give me a chance to earn it." I was starting to get some momentum. "Please allow me to admire you. God, I want so badly to kiss your legs!" I blurted out.

"That was pretty good, Gene. I bet it felt good to let that all out. But you must understand that whatever I decide to do with you will be entirely on my terms. Do you think you'd be able to accept that?"

"Um, I understand -- all on your terms. Yes, I can accept that. It's worth it – I mean, you are worth it."

"Of course I am, dear boy. And if you're a good boy, the rewards can be great. Lovely things come to obedient boys and girls. You promise to always comply with my wishes and obey my directions, hnnnh?"

"Yes . . . oh! I mean, yes, I promise to always do what you tell me to. I don't know why, but I . . . I feel . . . like I really want to."

She grasped my head and hugged my face snug to the soft swell of her belly, and said very softly "Do you trust me, Geney?"

I was feeling overwhelmed, surprised with the intensity of my emotions. It was all I could do to burble out, "Unh hunh, I want to."

"That's a good boy. You need to trust me, because I understand these feelings you are having. And I can help you realize them -- beyond your wildest dreams." She began to pet my hair and subtly rock back and forth, causing the cheek I had pressed to her belly to slide back and forth a bit. I could feel the slick slipping of nylon on nylon, and I guessed it was her slip sliding across the front of her panties.

"You like that, baby?" I was in a state of complete surrender, totally mushy. She was holding me tighter to her belly, "You want to be Regina's special pupil? Hnnnh?" A subtle verbena perfume had enveloped me and intermingled with it I could smell the scent of her excitement. It made me hard as a rock.

"Glggglggggllrg" I couldn't speak anymore.

And then, in a baby-talk voice, "Oh! It looks like Geney-weenie is all excited to be so close to Ms. Regina. It's too bad our time together this evening is almost up. Geney-weenie's going to have to go soon."

"Hunh? was all I could muster.

"Would Geney-weenie like a memento to remember our special evening together? A reminder of your agreement to our special arrangement?" With that she reached up under her skirt, pulled her panties down, and tucked them in my pocket. "A little something for you to study at home. I expect you to become very familiar with them – and next time there just might be a test."

I just stared dumbly at my pocket.

"That's it for tonight -- it's time for you to go." She abruptly pulled me to my feet, took me to gather my books, led me to the door, and saw me out with a "Until next time, good night, Gene."

Part 6 – Inducement

I stood on the entry porch in a daze. What just happened? It felt as if I'd just had a bizarre hallucination. As I walked to my apartment, the reality of the cool evening air made the memory seem like a dream. By the time I got home I had almost convinced myself that it couldn't possibly have happened.

I shut my front door behind me, dumped my books and went straight for a shot of rye whiskey to calm my nerves. The burn ran down my throat, the warmth flushed my cheeks, and I noticed I was still wearing my coat. As I went to hang it in the hall closet I saw the white lace peeking from the pocket and it hit me – it was real, it had happened, and the physical proof was right before my eyes -- the panties she had taken off and stuffed in my pocket.

I pulled them out and looked at them, stunned. My god, she had actually taken her panties off and given them to me.

Had she called me Geney-weenie? She had, and I hadn't even cared. Her words came back to me: would I like "a memento to remember our special evening together?" Well, they certainly did that. And she had said "A reminder of your agreement to our special arrangement?" What had I agreed to? Her terms, everything on her terms – that was it. To do as she said, obey her directions. That didn't seem so much. That was the price – to "admire" her. What admiring might entail made me lustfully crazy. That would be our "special arrangement" -- do as she says, get to "admire" her.

My thoughts turned to admiring her – looking at her legs in those stockings, staring at her sumptuous ass, feeling with my cheek her slip sliding across her panties, smelling the mixed scents of her perfume and her feminine arousal . . . oh my god, I had her panties in my hand! The panties she had just been wearing! What had she said? "A little something for you to study at home."

I had been lost in my thoughts and now looked at her panties closely for the first time. They were snowy white full-back panties with stretch lace in front and slippery microfiber satin in back. I alternately fingered the slick back and the stretchy lace and was overcome with unexpected emotions – gratitude that she had rewarded me with something so intimate, excitement that they had been in touch with her most private places and carried her very personal scent.

I remembered what else she had said: "I expect you to become very familiar with them – and next time there just might be a test." She wanted me to smell them! She wanted me to know her special scent! I held her panties to my nose and inhaled. The citrusy smell of verbena was the first thing I noticed then it gave way to the subtle undertone of her feminine bouquet. It was utterly intoxicating and I wanted more. I pulled them from my nose and looked at them again. The cotton crotch was damp and on closer inspection I could see a thick white streak of her sweet cream. I knew that that's where her scent would be strongest. I wanted to smell the soiled crotch but didn't want to put my nose in the goo, so I turned the panties inside out and held the satin side of the crotch to my nose. I liked the slick feel of the nylon against my nose. The odor of verbena was much fainter here, but her scent was strong.

I was so aroused I had to jerk off, immediately. I dropped my pants and underwear and knelt right there in my entryway. I pulled the inside-out panties over my head and positioned the fragrant crotch over my nose. My cock was so hard it almost hurt. I frantically jerked my cock with one hand while holding the panty crotch tight to my nostrils so that the air I breathed in was sucked through the dampened panty crotch. The smell was intense. All I could think of was "cunty." I desperately inhaled the pungently cunty air through the satiny panty crotch which was thickly smeared with Regina's pussy cream until I ejaculated. I came hard, spurt after spurt on the floor, for half a minute.

That weekend, I did study hard as instructed. Two or three times a day I jerked off while smelling her panties. By the second day I had to moisten the crusting smear with my breath to get its full pungency.

On Monday night I anxiously looked for her at the library and was disappointed that she wasn't there. I really wanted to see her again. That night I let go of an inhibition and licked her gooey pussy cream on the cotton gusset. A desperate need to see her was building up in me. When she didn't show again on Wednesday I lost all inhibition that night and desperately began sucking every vestige of her essence from the soiled crotch of her panties. I felt like I knew her intimately.

Part 7 – In the back office

Friday evening came and I was desperate to see her. As I entered the library I spotted her talking with Becky, who was one of the grad students that normally covered the front desk. She briefly looked over and saw me but continued talking. I sat in my regular spot and got set up to study but all my thoughts were on her. A half hour passed and I was surprised and disappointed that she hadn't dropped by to see me.

I finally got the gumption to wander up to the front desk. She was standing there flipping through the log. She was wearing an accordion-pleated skirt again, this time longer and in red, with a white satin blouse and a wide black belt. Black hose and heels finished off the outfit.

She noticed my approach and turned to face me with her fists on her hips, "Yes, what is it," she said abruptly, seeming impatient and irritated.

I was taken aback a bit, "Oh, I just wanted to say hello. I thought you might want to talk."

"I'm afraid I'm a little busy right now. When it's time, I'll let you know. Terms, sweetie, remember whose terms."

Unexpectedly chagrined, I slunk back to my alcove. I wanted to hate how she'd treated me, but I had agreed to those conditions – everything entirely her terms. She had clearly put me in my place, a place that I had already freely accepted. I hated being treated that way but there was no question in my mind that it was worth it to be close to her. I had been desperate to see her in person again and her rebuff just made it worse.

I tried to study but was in too much turmoil to get much done. I kept dwelling on thoughts that she had just been screwing with my head as a way to get back at me for ogling and actually had no other intent. I kept thinking that I had no reason to believe otherwise, but hoped that wasn't the case. I'd gladly take the grief for a genuine connection with her. I consoled myself that she had really seemed to enjoy the interaction, way beyond a simple satisfaction from revenge. She'd had a gleam in her eye that told me she enjoyed tormenting me for its own sake. I was surprised to realize that on some level I had enjoyed it too, and I definitely knew I wanted more.

All these musings kept my mind occupied for the evening as I accomplished very little studying. Finally, close to closing time, she came by. Almost reflexively I went into a more submissive mode.

She placed her hands on the desk and leaned down to me. "So you're still here."

I glanced briefly at her pendulous, satin-covered bust, quickly turned my eyes down, and meekly answered, "Yes."

"You've been at it all evening. Do you study this hard at home?" Her expression was as neutral as the words seemed innocent. The double entendre made my mouth go dry, as I knew exactly to which study she was referring.

"Yes. I've been studying very hard at home in the last week." I wanted her to know that I had diligently done my homework.

"Mmmm, that's good. Perhaps you'd like to tell me all about that -- after I close the library, of course?"

I was elated, "Yes, I'd like that very much."

"Good! Go ahead and gather up your things and wait for me in the office." and she turned and walked back towards the front desk.

I dumbly watched her swaying hips recede from view, then scrambled to pack my books and hightail it back to the office. When I got there it seemed natural to place the chairs in the position they had been in at our first encounter and sit in the hardback chair to wait. I had about five minutes to reflect on what I was doing. My mind raised objection after objection, but my passion overruled them all.

She whisked in the door and quietly closed it behind her. She turned and looking intently at me made a point of throwing the deadbolt. I felt a chill run down my spine. She walked around in front of me and stood about six feet away.

"It was thoughtful of you to try to set the room up, Geney. I like that. It shows you can anticipate what may be required of you. That's a quality I value."

"Thank you."

"Un hunh. Oh, say, how do you like my outfit?" She held the sides of her red taffeta, accordion-pleated skirt, fanning it widely to the sides.

I thought I could barely see the outline of her body through the delicate material, "It's lovely."

"More. . ."

"Oh, right! I love your skirt. It's the same style as the one you wore last week, but longer of course and red and . . ."

"Did that bring back good memories for you, honey?" she said, smiling.

"Oh, yes, very much so. I like the color, it's very . . . assertive."

"Interesting word choice, Gene. Red does make me feel more confident, as I'm sure you'll find out. Do you like my blouse?"

"Yes, it's very pretty. I love that it's so shiny."

"Mmmm, satin is lovely, isn't it? It feels so sensual against the skin, and it's so nice to touch. Very soft and smooth –wonderfully feminine. But the tailoring is quite professional, don't you think? It makes for an interesting contrast. Do you see that, Gene? Can you tell me what that contrast might be?"

"Um, like between pretty and businesslike?"

"Very good! But I prefer different terms – feminine and authoritative. To the uninformed that may seem paradoxical, but I assure you it is not. She pondered silently for a while and then said, "You're attracted to me, aren't you Gene?

"Yes," I squeaked out, "very much."

"And you like how I dress – in very feminine, sensual textures -- isn't that true?"

"Oh yes, absolutely!"

It's perfectly natural for you to be attracted to the feminine, sweetie. I can tell how much you desire to be near it. So much so that, for the opportunity, you are willing to do my bidding. You are willing to submit to my feminine authority, isn't that right Gene?"

I choked out an embarrassed, "Yes."

"I love dressing as I do, partly because it enables me to control men -- which I thoroughly enjoy. Would you say I already have some control over you, Geney-weenie?

I winced at the name, then thought about all that I had said and agreed to, and what I'd done with her panties all week, and confessed "Yes, more than I could have imagined."

"And I bet you enjoyed that, am I right?"

"Yes . . . yes, I enjoyed it . . . quite a lot."

She pulled my hand and pushed down on my shoulder like the last time, saying "Get on your knees, Geney, where you belong" and I slid into the same position I had taken the week before.

She leaned her bottom against the edge of the desk, placed her palms behind her on the desktop, and casually crossed her extended legs. The contrast of our positions was not lost on me; she was relaxed in a casual position above me while I knelt uncomfortably in a subservient position below her. What particularly struck me was how comfortably at home she seemed with the situation, like it was the most natural thing in the world and totally expected. That in turn made it easier for me to accept.

"Now, Geney, it's time to talk about your studies at home. Tell me everything -- and I expect you to be honest and frank."

"OK . . ." The magnitude of telling her what I had done with her panties suddenly hit me. What if it wasn't what she wanted? What if it grossed her out? I hadn't even considered that. I struggled with that thought in silence.

"Awww, what's the matter, honey, cat got your tongue?" she taunted.

I just couldn't bring myself to talk about it. I was facing telling this seemingly proper, middle-aged woman of the pathetically perverse acts I had performed with her panties, and the embarrassment was suddenly overwhelming.

She stood up and stepped forward to stand right in front of me. The rustle of her taffeta skirt and swishing of her stockings were intimately close. She looked down at me and bemused, "Oh sweetie, you look terrified! Ha, ha! Poor baby. Let me help you out." She tipped my head up to look at her face and softly intoned, "Just pretend that I'm your favorite aunt, the one you've always been able to confide in. You need to tell your Aunty Regina what you've gotten into, poor boy. Get it off your chest to Aunty Regina and it will help you feel better, hmmmmh?"

"OK," I was melting inside.

"OK, who? Who am I now?"

"OK, Aunty Regina." It was humiliating, but it did make it easier to talk.

"Now, Geney, to make this easier for you, Aunty Regina is going to ask you some questions. And Geney needs to be a good boy and tell his Aunty all about the things he's done, understand?"

"Yes, Aunty."

She stepped back and scooted up to sit fully on the desk. Her legs were splayed open, revealing a peek at the red panties she wore. She knew exactly what she was doing. My eyes were fixated on her red panties. Her knees opened and closed rhythmically.

"Good. Aunty Regina gave Geney something special last time. Tell me what that was."

"Um, her panties. The panties she had been wearing."

"Yes! What a special present for Geney! Did Geney-weenie like them, hmmmh?"

"Yes," my voice was cracking.

"And did Geney-weenie study Aunty's panties like he was told? "

"Yes, very thoroughly."

"Did you smell them?"

Cuthbert
Cuthbert
92 Followers