Good Girl Susan!

This story is about the power of encouraging words from a beautiful Mistress and how they can make a man submit so much more than any words of chastisement or fear of punishment.

I hope you enjoy it!

It was just an ordinary Wednesday lunchtime and I was wandering aimlessly through the department store, not really looking for anything but knowing where I would end up - I always ended up in the women's lingerie section! From an early age I had been obsessed with women's underwear. From plain white cotton knickers to lacy peach-coloured panties, bras, corsets, stockings - I was just fascinated and thrilled by it all. At first it was all very surreptitious - a long (longing) glance at the shop window or a stroll through the local department store that left my heart racing and my cock stiff. Occasionally I would enquire about something ("for my girlfriend, of course") and a tolerant shop assistant might show me a couple of different styles ("do you know her size?"). Just the thrill of talking about it with a woman, albeit on the pretence that I was shopping for someone else, would send tingles down my spine and through my groin until I would involuntarily contract the muscles in my arse and feel a little twitch at the base of my penis.

Inevitably I progressed to buying a pair and taking them home to try them on, to feel the delicate material brushing against my skin with the head of my rock hard cock poking out of the top over the waistband. It felt so transgressive but so natural as well. It was more than a sexual thrill - it was a deep longing within me that just had to be satiated, even though it was never enough and I always wanted something more, without really knowing what was missing. Over time I found the right size and styles for me: thongs were out because they really didn't cover anything; plain coloured cotton panties were my favourite to wear during the day because they were comfortable but the soft material would rub against my skin constantly; frilly or lacy ones were for special occasions when I had the house to myself and could spend an hour or two prancing around the bedroom pretending to be a girl and then masturbating into them.

I had joined a Fetlife group, with lots of other men who loved wearing panties, but I didn't want to hear about other men's fantasies - I wanted to share this feeling with a woman. Yes I wanted female attention and maybe even admiration but I also just wanted to tell someone about it, for them to say they understand and that it was ok to do these things - not just ok, that they liked it too and that they found it erotic.

And of course I was drawn to strong beautiful women, Dommes, although I could never actually approach one even online - I just didn't know how, I didn't have the nerve. And so I would leave a comment or a compliment on a post now and then, never really expecting or getting any response but needing to make some connection at least, no matter how tenuous.

So taking the opportunity of a weekday lunchtime to wander through the lingerie section of a department store near where I worked was just another thing I did to satisfy that near constant urge. Sometimes I might buy something but more often I was just browsing. This particular lunchtime, with the late summer sun drenching the streets in white gold, was no different really, until ...

I felt my phone vibrating my left buttock and assumed it was another work call, although when I looked there was no name or number ("Unknown Caller"), I moved into a side aisle so that I could answer quietly and found myself coincidentally staring at a rack of multi-coloured low-rise panties as I tapped "Accept".

"Hello Susan!"

It was a female voice, soft and accented though I couldn't tell from where. Just the timbre of her voice would have been enough to make me gasp a little - sultry but firm, almost commanding - but that she called me Susan left me breathless and shocked and even a little scared! No-one knows my Fet name! I mean, no-one that I know, no-one that would have my phone number. I was paralysed in that moment, my mind racing as fast as my heart, struggling to fix on anything that could possibly explain hearing someone call me by that name.

"What colour panties are you wearing right now?"

Just like that - no introduction, no explanation, just a question that no-one should be asking me, but asked in such a direct way that it demanded an answer, and with my conscious thoughts struggling to find an explanation my subconscious gave the answer straight out: "Pink!"

"Good girl! Where are you right now Susan?"

And though slowly my thoughts were catching up with this bizarre situation and were demanding answers, by now I had already admitted to a complete stranger that I was wearing pink women's panties and that my "name" was Susan and so I really had little defence or excuse to not continue. Besides, I could feel the adrenaline rushing through my body, tightening my chest and now converging on my groin - my anal muscles contracted and my cock twitched and I could feel the blood pump into my cock, which was starting to firm up and rub against the soft cotton. What choice did I have?

"I'm in a shop. A department store." And then a surge of anger, born of fear, filled me and I demanded "Who is this?"

I heard a little chuckle fill my ears (I was wearing earbuds and every sound from the other end filled my head completely as though she were inside my mind. Was she inside my mind? She certainly knew my deepest secrets.)

"This is Mistress Belgium, Susan." And that low soft voice seemed to enter me and take control.

"I saw your post on Fetlife and I liked it, so I decided to find you."

I didn't even question how - how did someone "find" me? My phone number? And as if she were reading my mind (she WAS in my mind!) she added:

"I have a friend who does research for me."

"Susan, I want you to say nothing unless I ask you a direct question - just listen to my voice and do as I say."

"Yes Mistress!" I squeaked out, my voice trailing off as I instantly realised that I had disobeyed her very first order. I gulped and was about to apologise but thought that two wrongs don't make a right and stayed silent. I could almost hear the smile on the other end of the phone - She was in complete control of what was happening and my little transgression had just given her a reason to chastise me. She didn't.

"I want you to go to the nearest public toilet Susan." The effect of this repeated calling me by my "name" was intensely strange - a mixture of fear and excitement, and a feeling of devotion that I couldn't quite understand. A willingness - a desire - to do anything that this woman asked of me.

I pulled my gaze from the panties that I had been staring at and looked around me - there would definitely be a toilet in the shop somewhere and almost zombie-like I made my way to the information board near the escalators. The toilets were on this floor ... just the other side of all the mannequins who were wearing skimpy lingerie, almost taunting me with their perfect bodies and sexy underwear.

"The ladies toilets Susan!" The command came through clearly just as I was approaching the toilets and without thinking I took the entrance on the right rather than the left. Thankfully the shop was not busy and there seemed to be no-one around who would see this simple act of rebellion, but surely there would be someone in the toilet and then I would be in trouble? There were four cubicles and I could tell that one of them was busy - the door closed - but otherwise it was empty and I quickly rushed to the end cubicle, softly closed and locked the door and sat down on the seat, pulling down my trousers without thinking even though I had no need to pee.

Mistress must have been listening to the sounds I made and guessed that I was in, for she now asked me: "I hope you are sitting comfortably Susan." (I resisted the urge to reply "Yes Mistress!", remembering her earlier command but also not wanting to make any sound while the other cubicle was occupied.)

"Now I want you to put me on FaceTime." I tapped the button on my phone, expecting to see the face to match to this incredible voice that resonated through my skull, wondering what she must look like, thrilled that I would be "face-to-face" with a real Domme.

But I was to be disappointed - all that showed on my screen was a strange symbol on a black background that I could not make head or tails of. But she could see me of course - my face appearing in the corner of the screen - and that soft lilting chuckle came through again "Aww, sweet little Susan. You didn't think I would allow you to see me did you?" And even I could see the look of disappointment on my miniaturised face.

"Point the camera down now - I want to see those panties."

I altered the phone position in my hand so that I could still see the screen (I needed to see where the camera was pointing after all) and I saw myself - my crotch, my bare white legs, my slightly expanding waistline, and those pink cotton panties barely covering my now rock hard cock. I could feel that delicious pressure within as the blood kept trying to push itself into my shaft and my anal muscles contracted again, making me twitch visibly under the fabric.

"Very nice Susan. You look adorable in those. And you must be enjoying the thrill of wearing them in public - I can see you throbbing."

Just then the other toilet flushed - a waterfall of sounds as I remembered I was not alone in the toilet and the unseen lady was finishing up, straightening herself out, unlocking the cubicle door and clicking her heels across the tiled floor to the sink to wash her hands.

"That's nice Susan - you're not alone are you. I want you to imagine that woman in the other cubicle. I want you to picture her sitting on the toilet and peeing. I want you to think about her panties - what colour they might be and what they look like round her ankles. I want you to visualise her drying her pussy with a tissue and I want you to think about what she looks like down there. Is she shaved do you think? Are her pussy lips large and swollen?"

Each word she spoke felt like warm nectar rushing through my body, through my ears down my spine, past my racing heart and right into the base of my throbbing penis, and I could see a little dark spot form on the pink fabric at the very tip of my cock as tiny little beads of pre-cum made their way up the inside of my shaft with each heartbeat and every throbbing twitch.

And of course, Mistress must have seen this too, very clearly in the centre of her screen.

"I bet you would like to touch your little clitty, wouldn't you Susan?"

This felt like a question to me and though I hesitated - I didn't want to disobey her and the other woman was still in the toilet - I found myself almost whispering "Yes Mistress!"

"I can't hear you Susan."

"Yes Mistress!" I almost shouted it out, overcompensating for my whisper, and the room went silent - the other woman must have heard, and would have known it was a male voice coming from the end cubicle.

Silence. A long pause. I didn't breathe. Then a tentative clicking of heels on tile and the door swinging open and banging closed.

Mistress must have clearly heard all this and known what was happening for she said nothing until the door had closed. I carefully and slowly let out my breathe as though even that slight noise could give me away somehow.

"You may touch yourself Susan. But only with one finger!" This last sentence sounded stern enough that I knew I would have no control even over how I could touch myself and it felt reassuring to me. I didn't have to think about this - I just had to do what I was told.

Slowly, gently, taking care to ensure the screen clearly centred on the panties and my throbbing cock, I took my left index finger and placed the tip right on the now expanded spot of pre-cum and started to rub in circles around the head of my cock. It felt sublime - finding the sensitive skin around the head and gently stroking through the panties. And with every touch my anal muscles contracted pushing that warm feeling up through my perineum and along the shaft initiating another twitch.

"Good girl Susan, good girl. Touch yourself for Mistress. Show Mistress how you get yourself right to the very edge of orgasm!"

Her encouragement was like a soothing balm and filled me with desire and devotion. I wanted to show her! I wanted her to see how I could tease myself to the brink. After all I had had plenty of practice on my own, but now there was this incredible female voice right inside me, telling me what to do, demanding that I please myself to please her. Was that a little moan I heard? Was that me, or was Mistress also touching herself on the other end? I could no longer tell what was happening as I approached the edge and I closed my eyes a little, trying to suppress and control my body's need to take myself over that edge and feel the short-lived rush of orgasm.

"Are you close Susan?"

"Yes Mistress I am."

"Then stop and use that finger to pull aside your panties, there's a good girl. Show Mistress your swollen cock!"

That "good girl" felt beautiful and engendered a powerful emotional response - I felt like I wanted to cry with joy that this amazing woman would call me a "good girl". I wanted to be her good girl more than anything else in the world. I needed to please her so she would say those words to me again. I needed that more than my body needed an orgasm.

So I carefully hooked my index finger around the leg of the panties, pulled around and up and out popped the top of my penis, almost snapping into place against my groin, coming to rest against the waistband with the small flowery bow in the centre. I could see the bead of pre-cum emerging from my peehole and as the fabric pulled away from it a long delicate string formed connecting my cock to those panties. It looked so erotic! And this time I was sure I heard a little gasp from the other end of the phone - a short intake of breath followed by a low moan - almost inaudible. Was she also finding this erotic? Was it just the thrill of the control she was exerting over me, or was she getting aroused?

"Now touch yourself again Susan - I want to see more pre-cum. I want you to squeeze at the base of your cock with your finger and thumb and then move them up your shaft - I want to you squeeze out that pre-cum for your Mistress."

I did exactly as she said, pulling the pink cotton further down and gripping the base of my shaft firmly between my thumb and finger and pulling upwards all the way to the head. And as I did so the bead of clear fluid that was resting right in the opening slowly expanded and then spilled over and started to run down the side. It felt so good - my cock was absolutely rigid and strained and was being stretched upwards - and the sight of the pre-cum spilling over was incredibly hot. As I reached the head I contracted my anal muscles again and felt a shudder ripple through me. I wanted to cum so desperately now.

"Have you made a little mess for me Susan?" came that beautiful voice in my head, almost a whisper now "Wipe it up for me that's a good girl." And I ran my finger up along the viscous trail, and pulling it away that little thread formed again. Unconsciously I put my finger to my lips and licked it clean, tasting its slight saltiness.

"You're a good little slut aren't you Susan?"

"Yes Mistress!"

"Are you close to cumming?"

"Yes Mistress!"

"I want you to rub the tip with one finger now, just around the head."

I needed no further encouragement - I wanted to cum now - I wanted to cum for Her. I started to grab for some tissue paper but was immediately chastised with a firm "NO! No tissue!"

Returning to my cock I started rubbing with just one finger all around the sensitive head and quickly found the most sensitive part - the frenulum. I could feel my orgasm building up inside and contracted my anal muscles again, and this time I could almost feel the cum rising up through my twitching shaft.

Just a few more gentle rubs and I was sure I'd be spurting everywhere.

"Slowly now Susan - very slowly."

My eagerness was overwhelming me but I forced myself to slow down, still feeling like I would cum any second now, and as I contracted those muscles once again a little droplet of cum, milky in colour and silky in texture appeared at the head and I felt her short sharp command course through my whole body: "STOP!"

At this I pulled my finger away, but kept contracting my anus and to my amazement I could see drop after drop of cum pushing out and over the head and down the side of my stiff and throbbing penis. And it kept coming - I couldn't do anything now to stop it - every pulse of my anus, every twitch of my cock seemed to draw it out until it was flowing freely, but slowly, down the side and onto my panties, turning them from bright pink to a dusky rose colour. I was desperate for the orgasm but it just wasn't there. Instead I was making a mess all over my groin and yet there was no feeling of satisfaction - just that desperate urge, the sensitivity around the head of my cock almost burning, my anal muscles contracting and contracting over and over and that river of cum spreading through my panties, finding crevices onto my balls and into the crease of my anus and now dripping into the toilet. And all the time my cock throbbing and twitching as if it had a life of its own - like it was searching for any contact from anything, but there was none.

"Mmm Susan. That is hot isn't it!" Mistress was definitely moaning now and I was moaning too - groaning out loud from sheer desperation and despair!

The river started to run dry although I kept contracting those muscles - it was all the pleasure I could get from this ruined orgasm. And when my cock finally stopped its desperate flailing up and down and settled back onto the now dark pink fabric, and as I was thinking about how to clean this mess up and again realising just where I was (in a public ladies toilet for fuck's sake - what on Earth am I doing?), I heard that little chuckle again deep inside my head and Mistress' voice soft and clear and calm:

"Eat it for me Susan - will you eat your own cum for me now, like a good girl?" I knew this wasn't a question but an order, and with two fingers I scooped up as much as I could from the little pool that had formed in my crotch and drew it to my mouth, not even hesitating as I lapped it up and even sucked my fingers clean.

"Such a good girl aren't you." That endless encouragement more of a reward than anything else she could have said or done right now.

"Now listen to me very carefully Susan! I want you to know that I have been recording this little incident."

My blood ran cold, but my cock was still as rock hard as it had ever been.

"And as you know, I have ways of finding things out don't I."

She left that sentence just hanging there, let it settle in for a moment. She had drawn me into this from the start - she knew exactly what she was doing and I had fallen for it like the fool I am. She had my phone number and who knows what other information about me, my wife, my friends, my boss, what must she know about me?

And now she had a video recording of me - with my face - in pink women's panties, rubbing myself to a ruined orgasm - licking up and eating my own cum. I felt a deep sense of shame flush through me and a fear too. What have I done, what have I got myself into?

"You are going to wear those dirty panties for the rest of the day aren't you

Susan!" Again, not really a question!

"Yes Mistress!" I replied with a sense of dread in my heart.

"From now on, whenever you touch yourself you must think of me and my voice when you do so."

"Yes Mistress." And then quickly: "Thank you Mistress."