Sweetness

"Oh, you can speak. I know all about you, Sweetness," she said, her eyes wide, her smile lifting her cheeks. "I read your file. I know where you live. Oh, and that little checkmark on divorced. Lookie here," she reached inside her scrubs and pulled on a thin piece of elastic, flashing a small swath of red. "My panties aren't as pretty as yours." She watched my eyes, "Oh, you do like panties, don't you?" Peyton laughed then, and it was delightful. "So, I already owe you one punishment and we'll get to that shortly, but do you want to go for two? I promise you don't. Now, Sweetness, tell me, do you wear anything else?" She then repeated her sexy question from earlier, "Anything naughty?" And just like before she dragged the word out.

How could I answer that question? That I did own a few other things like one extreme corset that I bought on a whim. And two pairs of heels that I loved almost as much as I loved wearing panties. I couldn't admit that to anyone, including Peyton, could I? And what did she mean about her wanting to punish me and, more importantly, why was I excited about what that could be?

She laughed again. "Oh, you do! That's awesome! So much fun." She left the room and came back two minutes later. "Now," she said, "I owe you a punishment and I think that the punishment should fit the crime. You didn't want to answer my question. That was naughty." I loved the way she said that word: both playful and sexy at once. "Since you didn't want to speak, well, let's give you a reason for being quiet." She reached into the lone back pocket of her scrubs and pulled out a piece of red fabric. "Open up," she said.

Her panties. Was she going to gag me with her panties? And why did I want her to?

"Sweetness."

I looked at her. She was giving me a gaze full of power. She was a woman used to getting her way. It dawned on me that that air of superiority wasn't an act. She was superior. I opened my mouth. I couldn't help myself. I wanted those panties. I wanted to see them. Taste them. Own them. Hell, I wanted to wear them.

Smiling, Peyton placed her panties into my mouth. They were wet. I could taste them, a strong taste that was both pleasant and acrid. She pushed them deeper into my mouth, one tantalizing bit at a time until my mouth was full, my cheeks bulging. "There," she said. "Now you have a reason not to say anything. If you're good, I'll let you take them out before you leave the hospital." She smiled. "But I doubt it."

She left again. I watched her go, looking at her ass as she left. She wasn't wearing panties and that somehow made her retreat even more tantalizing. I tasted her panties, sucking on them, savoring the taste of her body, her piss, her sweat. It was the most intimate I'd been with a woman since my ex-wife had left. Was that why I let her gag me? Was that why I kept them in my mouth? I lay there, gagged, waiting to be discharged, trying to find answers to far too many questions.

An orderly came in and cheerfully told me it was time to go. I couldn't speak so I just nodded. He gave me a pair of scrubs and waited out in the hall while I got dressed, hiding the sheer yellow panties that Peyton and who knew how many other people had seen. I found the orderly in the hallway where he helped me into a wheelchair and soon enough I was wheeled to the front of the hospital. I was still gagged with Peyton's panties. I had not spoken a word since she had shoved them into my mouth.

The orderly left me alone. I stood, staring at the darkening sky. I had lost most of the day. I couldn't help but wonder what had taken so long. I glanced from the sky, back into the hospital and back to the encroaching darkness again. I had to get home, but my car was totaled, my cell phone lost, probably in the wreck.

I needed to make a phone call which meant I was going to have to take the panties out of my mouth. Was that allowed? Where did that thought come from? Did I need permission to remove Peyton's panties? More importantly, did I want to ask for permission? I found that I did. Peyton had somehow captivated me with her smile, her playfulness, her dominance, and maybe more importantly, her acceptance. Yes, that was probably the most important thing.

"Follow me," Peyton said, coming up behind me. "I'll take you home." She started walking, not bothering to check if I was following her or not.

I followed.

(3)

"Okay," she said as my seatbelt clicked shut. "You can take my panties out of your mouth. But," she smiled at me, "I expect you to wear them tomorrow."

I whimpered. I didn't mean to, but I did it just the same. The sound caused Peyton to laugh. "You like that idea, do you?"

I nodded, fishing her tiny panties from my mouth. They were wet but this time for a different reason. I looked at them, a small thong, barely any fabric at all. Peyton was a small woman; the panties were tiny. I doubt they'd fit but I wanted to wear them. I enjoyed holding them in my hand, I knew I'd enjoy wearing them even more.

Peyton drove me home, talking the whole way. She told me about her childhood. How she was an only child, that her mother had died while four months pregnant. She told me about her father, a small man with small ideas and a great big heart. She did most of the talking, dominating the conversation. She talked about what she wanted to talk about and only let me speak when she wanted an answer to a question. She learned about my own parents, living in San Diego because they both liked the warm weather and the cool Pacific water. She learned about my two older sisters and laughed when I admitted that I had to wear their more androgynous hand-me-downs. "God," I said to one of her questions. "It was so humiliating wearing my sisters' pants to school and having one of the senior girls call me on it."

"Did it turn you on?"

"What?"

"The humiliation? Did it turn you on?"

"No. Of course not."

She looked from the road and back to me. "Uh-huh." She didn't believe me. Maybe it was the blush on my face or how I had hesitated before answering. She followed that with something that terrified me, "I guess we'll find out soon enough."

I didn't like the sound of that. Or did I? I didn't expect to crash my car and I didn't expect to be so captivated by the lovely young woman that was driving me home in her old Accord. She steered the conversation to my divorce, learning far more about me than I usually revealed. But then again, she knew about my biggest secret, the one that I kept from everyone. The one secret I had even kept from myself for the longest time. Growing up, I had worn both my mothers' and my sisters' panties, never admitting how much I liked them, only knowing that I did. It took a long time to even admit it to myself. Hiding pilfered panties from my family, wearing them when I had the chance. I knew I liked it, even at that young age, I just didn't know why. I hadn't even heard the term fetish until I was a junior in high school when I happened upon a discarded Penthouse Variations magazine that someone had thankfully discarded.

Peyton pulled into my driveway. "Invite me inside."

"Would you like to come in?"

She threw hear head back and laughed. "I'd be delighted, but we haven't had a real date yet and it wouldn't be proper. Now, ask me out."

"Would you like to have dinner with me," Friday was date night, "tomorrow?"

She repeated her line about being delighted. "Tomorrow, then. Thank you, Sweetness, for the rather pleasant day. We're going to have a great time."

I got out of her car and watched her drive away. Only then did it dawn on me that she had never once called me by my name. She had only called me Sweetness. Was that a play on my last name or something else? Something fun? Something sinister? I realized that I couldn't wait to find out.

I walked to my door and realized I didn't have a key to get in. My keys were with my phone inside my totaled SUV. I made my way to my neighbor and retrieved the spare key they kept for me, thanking them for keeping it safe. I had a key to their place for the exact same reason. You never knew what life was going to throw at you, what you couldn't plan for, and today I was given Peyton. I couldn't help but wonder where it would lead.

Chapter 2

First Dates

(1)

"Are you okay, Mister Sweet?" Gayle, my secretary, asked as I came inching into the office. She stood, taking in the bandage on my head. "When you didn't call yesterday and now, with that bandage and the way you're walking, well, are you okay?"

What was wrong with the way I was walking? Damn, Peyton's panties. I had reverently washed them the night before in my bathroom sink, hanging them to dry and when I'd donned them this morning my thought from the day before turned out to be remarkably accurate. They didn't fit. Peyton was a tiny woman and the panties were just a wisp of fabric. I'd pulled them up my legs, getting an elicit thrill as I did. The same jolt of pleasure I always got from wearing what was deemed forbidden. I settled them against my waist, adjusting my junk in place. Peyton's panties were tiny, and they did not quite hold all of me in place. I loved them. Partly because they were panties but mostly because they belonged to Peyton and that she had asked me to wear them. Or maybe she had commanded me.

I had stood in front of the mirror, turning around to look at the small amount of fabric snaking between my legs. My ass was practically naked. I turned back to the mirror, my cock falling from the panties to hang next to the flash of silky red. I fished myself back into the thong. I turned again, staring at myself in the mirror and then went about getting dressed. My junk had fallen free before I even had my pants on.

"I'm fine, Gayle. Thank you," I said, feeling the heat rise on my cheeks. Of course, she'd noticed me walking funny. My tiny panties had once again shifted, leaving my junk hanging outside Peyton's pretty panties. The accident wasn't the reason my gait was different. Adjusting to Peyton's panties slicing into my crotch caused that. "I'm sorry I didn't get to call yesterday. I lost my phone in the accident."

Gayle rushed towards me like I was an infirm old man about to take a tumble. She reached for me then caught what she was doing. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Really. I'm fine. Just a little sore. I won't be in long today," I admitted. "I have a bunch of things to take care of."

"You shouldn't be here now," she scolded.

I shooed her away and made my way to my office. I took a seat and making sure nobody was looking I snaked my hand into my pants and adjusted my panties back in place. That felt so much better than the way the far-too-small panties dug into my scrotum when I slipped free of the fabric.

Sitting at my desk, I looked at my open office door. Gayle was sitting just outside. She was a sweet, older woman, probably close to sixty. She'd taken this job a few years ago to get away from her husband who had just retired. "He's just always in my way and I'm constantly having to clean up after him. I need a job just to get away from him." I'd hired her on the spot. I never once thought about what panties Gayle wore. No, that's not true. I've often thought that my panties were probably prettier and today they definitely were.

I picked up the phone and made a few phone calls. Enterprise would pick me up, just as their motto proclaimed and it was a far better solution than taking Lyft everwhere. After getting a rental car I'd have to go see my insurance agent and then get a new cell phone. There were a few more people that would need to know about the accident. My parents for one.

A few of my employees poked their head in to check on me and I told them all the same thing I'd told Gayle more than once. "I'm fine. Really." I guess some of them needed to see it for themselves. Jack, one of my best salesmen stopped in right before Enterprise showed up with my rental. "Damn, Mason, you are alive."

I laughed, and Jack laughed with me. "Sorry to disappoint you."

"Never stopped you before."

"Good point," I agreed. "I'm fine, Jack."

We segued into the next big sale. "I expect it'll add quite a bit of work," Jack said, beaming. That was both good news and bad. More work meant we'd need more employees and while we were a relatively small advertising firm, we seemed to be growing far faster than I could cope with. I'd only added an HR department, a husband and wife teamed named Amber and Clayton, less than nine months earlier. If this growth kept up, I'd need a bigger break than the one I already longed for. Long hours, long days, and long months have a way of catching up with you.

"Better than no work at all," I said, mostly believing it. I didn't have time to take the day off but there were too many things I needed to get done. The team could handle it and maybe that was for the best. I was getting burned out. Nineteen employees under me. And thanks to Jack that number was about to climb. Again.

"Good to see you're okay," Jack said.

"Thanks."

I left five minutes after the rental car showed up, promising Gayle I'd take good care of myself. I was chauffeured to the rental car counter and thirty minutes later I was on my way to my insurance agent. I was there for an hour, and an hour after that I had a new cell phone. A newer model than the one I'd had before. But it seemed, based on the ads, that there was always a new phone right around the corner. In my business I paid attention to the ads. Some were good. Some bad. Some stupid. I remember one commercial when I was younger that showed a lone man walking along a deserted highway. A pretty woman stopped and asked if those jeans were of a certain brand. He admitted they were. And then she drove away, leaving him alone on the highway. If you've seen it, you know how dumb it is, right? If we had done the ad, that man would have gotten into the car with the attractive young woman. I got the point. The jeans, by that manufacturer, made him noticeable but wouldn't it have been better if not only was he noticed but rewarded?

I called my folks and told the about the accident. Mom was concerned about my health; dad about my SUV. I smiled at the dichotomy.

Through the day I kept adjusting my crotch. My junk just wouldn't stay in place inside Peyton's petite panties. It was one of the reasons I preferred boy shorts and full briefs. They held me in place much better than a thong.

It was just after lunch when I started giving serious though about my date. I had far too many questions and no good way to get them answered. I didn't have Peyton's number and I didn't know where she lived. Did she work today? Was I supposed to pick her up from the hospital? Would she really want to go on a date wearing scrubs? Even I knew the answer to that one. No. It was a date. A formal date and she'd want to get dressed up. I needed to get in touch with her. Should I call the hospital?

My new phone dinged. I had a text message. My phone may have changed but my number had stayed the same.

How do my panties feel?

It was Peyton. I plugged her number into my phone. I smiled. She had my number. Of course she did. She'd told me so the day before. I typed back my response. I keep falling out of them.

She sent back a smiley emoji. Aww. I know a way to keep that from happening.

Oh?

You'll find out. That was followed by a little yellow face sticking out its tongue.

What did that mean? She was a mysterious woman full of so many secrets. My phone beeped again. She gave me her address and told me to pick her up at seven. I was smiling as I typed my response. Looking forward to it.

Me too. Gotta go. Later, Sweetness.

Well, that answered that question. Now, what were we going to do?

(2)

Once, a long time ago, I took my ex-wife on our first date. At the time I thought that that would be my last first date ever. Turns out I was wrong. Turns out you can't predict the future no matter what television psychics would have you believe. Although, truth be told, I bet I could write an ad that would make people believe.

I had thought that first date with my ex-wife had been perfect. The perfect last first date. My first date with Peyton was somehow much better. Maybe it was the novelty of it; there had been times I thought I would never date again. Before Peyton I wasn't exactly looking for a new relationship. I wasn't opposed to one, I just wasn't seeking one out. Whatever would happen would happen and I would be okay with that. Only I wasn't just okay with Peyton. I was ecstatic. She was fun and sweet and mysterious. Definitely mysterious.

After my accident, she had driven me home from the hospital telling me how much she wanted to see what other naughty things I had in my panty drawer, laughing when I told her during that drive to my house that I did actually have one. Then, once we pulled into my driveway and I invited her in she was the one that told me no, that we hadn't had our first date yet. She was interesting and complicated, and it was fun trying to figure her out.

When I showed up at her door she had nearly taken my breath away. She was wearing a little black dress and it didn't just fit her. If sculpted her, molding to her alluring body in a way I had been unprepared for. I had only seen her in scrubs and they hid so much that was now being revealed. The dress was low-cut giving a tantalizing view of cleavage. The dress ended just above her knees. She was wearing simple heels with an open toe. Her toes were painted a deep burgundy color. A gold necklace encircled her throat drawing my eye upward just as that small flash of cleavage drew the eye down.

"Wow." I said and then could say no more. Her hair was coiffed and hung to her shoulders. She wore a simple flower in her hair. I didn't know if it was a daisy or an orchid and I didn't much care. Somehow that flower made her even more lovely than I remembered.

Peyton smiled. "You clean up pretty good yourself," she said.

Even wearing a suit, it was obvious she outclassed me. By a lot. "Thanks. You look amazing."

She beamed at the compliment.

I held out my arm. Peyton draped her arm in mine. I led her to the car, suddenly thanking that idiot driver. Without rolling my SUV I would have never met this stunning lady. Funny how things like that can happen, something bad that leads to something much greater.

I drove to the restaurant. It wasn't exactly a five-star restaurant, but it was clean with good food. The lighting was subdued, giving the place more of an adult feel than say a Chili's or an Applebee's. Couples were enjoying their meal at some tables while a family of five sat at a booth, the parents sharing a desert while their three children sat quietly, their eyes glued to their phones.

We got a seat right way. A young man came up to the table, "I'm Brad," he greeted us with a practiced, professional smile. He was wearing black slacks with a white shirt buttoned to the collar and a thin black tie. The same outfit the whole wait-staff wore. "What would you like to drink? We have a lovely Pino that I could recommend."

"A glass of your house merlot please," Peyton told the waiter.

"Very good. And you, sir?"

I was driving. "Half and half tea, please."

Peyton considered what I ordered, seemed to regard it and what it meant. She nodded and then giggled, "Oh, live a little Mason. Have a cosmopolitan."

I knew what she was doing, and I felt my cheeks flush. My mysterious playful date was being playful. She wanted me to order a drink. A decidedly feminine drink. She was smiling at me, her head tilted to the side. Was I being tested? Probably. Did I enjoy the course? Absolutely. "On second thought," I said, playing along with whatever game Peyton was playing, "I'll have a Cosmo."