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Message-ID: <28629asstr$980777402@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
Reply-To: "Deborah the Cowgirl" <deb@fiendishglee.com>
From: "Deborah the Cowgirl" <deb@fiendishglee.com>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Sun, 28 Jan 2001 20:22:25 PST
Subject: {ASSM} "Panty Slut" (F/m, forced fem, teasing, forced oral, voy.)
Date: Mon, 29 Jan 2001 09:10:02 -0500
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For this and other stories visit: www.fiendishglee.com
"My Room Mate, My Panty Slut"
By Deborah the Cowgirl

I hold that there are two kinds of submission in S&M. The kind where you are
made to submit to the will of another, and the kind where you are made to
submit to the individual desires and curiosities that you yourself have but
have not indulged because you are just too damn afraid. Oftentimes these
latent desires can become your most zealously guarded secret that you reveal
to no one. But sometimes, secrets slip out anyway.

The most common role submission I do when I dominate someone is really just
getting them to submit to aspects of themselves that they would rather not
acknowledge- regardless of how obvious it is to everyone else. By having me
force their secret wishes upon them, they get to partake of their "secret
sin" and absolve themselves of responsibility in the process since I am the
one "making them do it."

Now what I am in S&M for is to make someone do what I want, so this aspect
of submission does not particularly thrill me. The main reason I do it is
that people find this facilitated and guiltless indulgence quite addictive.
When they come back to me for it, I start to change the agenda subtly from
what "they want" to what "I want." I always find that process enjoyable.

The only trick is, of course, finding someone's "submissive little secret."
Despite my experience with all kinds of submissive men, I still can't peg
what and if someone's submissive secret is until that person does something
really out of the ordinary.  Most of the times I am caught totally off
guard. Take my college roommate for instance, when we first moved in
together I never would have expected that I would soon turn him into my
panty slut.

*****

The first time I caught my roommate in my panty drawer was an early Tuesday
afternoon. Normally I had a lab that went late on Tuesday, so I guess he
didn't expect me to be home quite so soon. I had just come back from class
to find the door to my room slightly ajar and my room light on. I thought
Peter, my roommate, might be stealing something from me so I quietly walked
over and peeked into my room. I was not prepared for what I saw.

"Peter!" I snapped in shock at my roommate who was standing in front of my
opened dresser drawer. He was holding a pair of my red silk panties up to
his face and lovingly rubbing it against his check. His eyes were closed and
he had a look of complete contentment on his face, at least until I yelled
at him.

Peter jumped, dropped the panties, and slammed the drawer shut. He looked
guiltily at me as he fumbled for something to say. "I, uh...I thought some
of our laundry got mixed up."

I knew he was lying, but I wasn't quite sure what to do about it right then.
"Yeah, right. Look just get the hell out," I said coldly.

I slammed the door to my room after he left. I was furious at him. How dare
he violate my trust and go through my things while I was gone to get his
sexual charge. I was also taken aback by the fact that he had a panty
affinity to begin with. I mean he was a waifee little guy and I guess he
seemed a bit effeminate, but I had felt his eyes wandering over my body and
I had seen whose asses he was checking out when a group of people walked
past. He wasn't gay.

No, he was a straight man with some kinky submissive desires lurking
underneath a veneer of detached normality. I decided right there and then
that night I would make Peter pay for violating my trust. I would first
feminize him like he secretly wanted, and then I would turn things around
and feminize him in a way that he hadn't planned on. My mind searched
maliciously for the thing I could make Peter do that would haunt him
forever. Then I remembered overhearing one of Peter's phone conversations
where he was bitching to his friend about some guy name Brad that he hated
because that guy had blackballed him out of the fraternity he had wanted to
join.

That was it. That was the key. I would unwittingly use Brad to punish Peter
for ever entering my room.  And with that, I devised a plan. Step one of my
plan involved hiding a video camera in my room and setting it to record
during the times when I knew Peter would be there and I would not. Both the
door to my bedroom and Peter's had a lock on it, but I left mine unlocked
all the time I was gone. It didn't take long for step one to turn into a
complete success.

Over the next few weeks of watching videotape, it became apparent that
raiding my panties was a pretty common occurrence for Peter. It also became
apparent from the tape that little Peter had a pattern: first he would go
through my dirty laundry looking for panties that had the right smell to
them, and then if he didn't find any he liked he would go into my clean
panty drawer and get a pair that he liked the look and feel of. Usually he
would try on a pair that suited his fancy, and frequently masturbate while
wearing them pair and maybe running another pair over his chest or face.  It
didn't take long for me to get hours of juicy footage of Peter. Like I said,
step one was a complete success- now on to step two.

*****

Peter had become fairly predictable about the times he would come into my
room, so one day I quietly crept into our apartment, tip toped over to my
door, and peeked in.  Sure enough, there he stood smelling at the crotch of
a thong I had worn earlier in the week.

"PETER, you sick PERVERT!" Obviously there was no reasonable defense for the
situation he was in, but he nevertheless sputtered something about missing
some laundry.

"Don't bother trying to lie to me," I scowled.   "I wonder what your friends
would think if I told them?"

"I... look... this is all just a big mistake" he said. Genuine fear had
crept into his voice now, which is exactly what I had intended.

I walked slowly over to him with a look of rage on my face. His watery eyes
got a little bigger with every step. Then I grabbed a fist full of his black
hair, leaned in, and whispered into his ear. "Listen Peter, I've been
videotaping you and the things you do in my room. I have you in all kinds of
situations, posing in the mirror in my lingerie, jerking off with my
panties, all kinds of things. I also overheard you say that a guy named Brad
blackballed you out of the fraternity you wanted. If you don't want to Brad
and everyone else in that fraternity to get a copy of that tape, then you
will do exactly as I say from now on. Understood?"

Peter really didn't have any options, but he still hesitated to nod right
away. I guess he realized that he had gotten himself into a nightmare
situation and that I had had him by the balls. Little did he realize that
this was just the beginning.
*****

Like I said, one of the things I have always enjoyed doing is taking
someone's fetish that excites them and making it so extreme that they come
to regret it. I love the whole process of taking their whole experience and
turning their emotional reaction from excitement to fear and humiliation,
and I especially enjoyed what I did to Peter.

Over the course of the next week, I taught Peter that wearing panties could
be a full time job. The first thing I had demanded was a key made to Peter's
bedroom door. Then one day he came home to find that I had gone through all
his clothes and dirty laundry and taken every single pair of boxers and
briefs that he had owned.

In their place, I left a "Veronica's Closet" shopping bag filled with an
assortment of black lace panties that were just his size. It took him a full
hour of brooding in his room before he worked up enough courage to ask.
"What happened to my underwear?"

"From now on Panty Slut, that is what I will expect you to wear," I said
menacingly. "I will inspect your panties regularly and if you aren't wearing
one of those sexy black panties that I bought for you then Brad gets that
tape."
He looked at the floor and tried to look pathetic. I suppose he wanted me to
feel sorry for him and lighten up, although I don't see why. I knew that
deep down that being a sissy was what he had always wanted; now he just had
an excuse to do it everyday. Of course, I am not so sure that he really
wanted my next revelation.  "Next week we start with the garter belts."

*****

Peter's slut training, as I called it, progressed quickly after that. Funny
thing about controlling someone, it's the first shove that is always the
hardest. After that you can have them doing things more and more depraved
with less and less effort. It was the same with Peter. I had him so trained
that on command he would pull down his pants anywhere he happened to be so I
could check to see that he was in his panties. Soon he was cleaning the
whole apartment wearing nothing but a tight pair of panties and a pair of
thigh high stockings. I especially enjoyed watching him wobble around in
heels. The looks of embarrassment and awkwardness he had only made my
victory greater.

Each night I would make him tell me what a sissy whore he was. I even called
me at his job and made him say it to me over the phone. I knew he had a
secret crush on one of the women there. I am pretty sure that she didn't
think of him as anything but a freak after I made him go on and on over the
phone to me about how the garters and stocking felt against his smooth legs.
Oh, didn't I mention. I made him shave his legs too.  But this was all just
a warm up; my true punishment of Peter was yet to come.

Brad, the fraternity guy that Peter hated, was exactly what I expected:
vain, chauvinistic, materialistic, and completely lacking in depth. Not at
all surprising given that he was a fraternity guy. In fact, it even worked
to my advantage. Guys like that aren't too hard for me to manipulate. All I
had to do was wear something sexy and bump into him on campus on day. Within
a couple of minutes, we had a date for Friday night.

In preparation for Friday, I hate Peter clean my apartment spotlessly. He
had become pretty good at it by now with all the practice he was getting.
What I didn't tell him was that Brad was on his way over to pick me up. I
suppose if he had known that, it would not have been nearly as easy to have
put him in stocking, panties, high heels, and a training bra as he cleaned
up around the house. I further complicated matters by locking the door to
his room while he was cleaning out my bathroom.

Then the doorbell rang.

Peter came bolting out of my room and made a mad dash to his bedroom door.
Only to find it locked. He tried to open his door again, and then he slammed
against it with all his might. Only after exhausting himself against his
door did he turn and look at me.
"Who is that?" he asked in the calmest voice he could muster.

"That's Brad, we have a date tonight," I said matter-of-factly while walking
to the door. Just before opening it, I turned and looked at Peter. The look
on his face was the same blank look of terror that rabbits have when caught
in the headlights of an oncoming car.

I held up the key to Peter's bedroom and smiled cruelly. "What would you do
for this right now? Well, you're aren't going to get it, and since I plan on
using my bedroom to fuck Brad's brains out, I suggest you hide in my
closet."

Peter briefly froze with a mortified expression on his face, then the
doorbell rang again and I turned to let Brad in. Behind me I heard the
scramble of Peter scurrying to reach my bedroom before I opened the door.

*****
I must say, my plan was perfectly executed, but imperfectly conceived. When
I had conceived my plan I had intended to fuck Brad over and over again
while making Peter watch from my closet. Strangely enough, I had forgotten
how much I hated sex with guys like Brad.

We made some small talk over a couple of beers, and then we went straight to
making out on the couch. I knew that Peter must have been watching jealously
from out of my bedroom, and that thought was enough to keep me interested in
what I was doing, but just barely. Kissing Brad was duller than ditchwater.
For the record, I like soft kisses over my lips, face, and neck moving
smoothly into deeper, more consuming kisses, not just minute upon minute of
seeing how far back in my throat you can shove your tongue.

If this was Brad's idea of a good time, then I was going to have to do my
own foreplay. So, instead I closed my eyes and visualized the look that must
have been on Peter's face as he watched us through the crack of my bedroom
door: how wounded he must have felt having to watch his rival conquer the
woman he longed for while he sat there in women's garters and heels; how
silly his cock must have looked bulging from his panties; and the fear that
must be racing through his mind not knowing what I had planned for him next.
Those were the thoughts that got me wet, and the more I thought of how I was
tormenting poor Peter, the hotter I became.

I excused myself from the couch by telling Brad that I wanted to change into
something that he would really like before we started the main event. When I
closed my bedroom door behind me, I found Peter kneeling there helplessly.

"You had better get into the closet," I whispered to him. "Brad and I are
going to be fucking like wild animals in here in a few minutes."

With that I grabbed him by the hand and led him into my closet. I quickly
pulled my green lace teddy of the hanger. "That is what I am going to wear
for him. This is what a woman will do for a real man, while sissy boys like
you get to watch."

I forced Peter to his knees before me, and pulled his head into my crotch."
Bet you can smell how excited I am, can't you Peter? That's how excited a
real man makes me Peter! That's why Brad is better than you, and that's why
he gets me and you don't."

I slowly stripped my clothes off. All the while watching the lust in Peter's
eyes grow. After I had removed my panties, I scrunched them into a ball.
With my other fist I grabbed Peter's head and wrenched it back.

"Open your mouth!" I commanded.

He looked at me pleadingly. "Please stop this," his eyes said to me.

"Open your mouth Goddamn it!"

Slowly, Peter obeyed. Then I shoved my wet panties into his mouth, grabbed
some duct tape off a closet shelf, and tapped them into a gag. "I would hate
for your whimpering to disturb my fun, but look on the bright side. At least
you and Brad will get a taste of me tonight."

Next I used the duct tape to hog-tie poor Peter- first his wrists, then his
ankles, and then his wrists and ankles together. Peter whimpered in protest,
but I could tell by his the hardness that was bulging out of his panties how
excited he was by all this. In my final victorious moment, I changed into my
green teddy right in front of him, all the while telling him how pathetic he
looked, about what a faggot he must be, and about how Brad was going to
satisfy me in a way he simply couldn't.

When I finished changing, I stood straddle of his face and pulled the fabric
away from my crotch. "Look at what you can never have, Peter. Take a long
last look at my glistening pussy. " Then I left him, whimpering, horny, and
humiliated on the floor of my closet.
*****

Following through with my plan, Brad and I were fucking like wild animals in
no time. I can say that with full confidence because I have never seen wild
animals have extended foreplay and that was definitely true of my boy Brad.
His idea of foreplay was fumbling around with the clips on the crotch of my
teddy. Finally we began, and I was still so hot from taunting Peter, that I
needed a good screwing. Brad's dick was better than nothing. I must
apologize if the details of my intercourse with Brad are a bit brief, but so
was the affair itself.

Of course, with all the noise I was making, I am sure that Brad thought he
was about to set a world's record. I made those little noises for Peter, and
the more I closed my eyes and thought about how it must be affecting him,
the louder I got. Brad and I came amid a torrent of my screams about how big
he was and what a real man he was.

True to form, Brad left shortly after we were finished. That was also in my
plans. With the crotch of my teddy still unfastened, I quickly went over and
opened the closet door. And there was my sweet Peter, all curled up in a
ball, eyes closed tight, covered with sweat, and his cock as hard as ever.
He looked up me wearily, wondering what was in store for him next.  Again I
straddled his face and let him see a full view of the remains of Brad oozing
out of my pussy.

"That Brad was a messy boy I'm afraid. Looks like you are going to have to
clean me up a bit." With that, I ripped the duct tape from over his mouth
and, leaving the rest of him hog-tied, lowered myself over his mouth.

I used one hand to pull my cunt apart for him, and the other I used to pull
his tongue deeper and deeper into me.  All the while my downward gaze never
wavered. I loved seeing the disgusted look on his face as he cleaned Brad's
cum out from inside of me. To Peter's credit, he actually has a very agile
tongue and knows how to use it to satisfy a woman:  he ran it broadly and
lightly over my lips, he plunged it deeply into me and wiggled it like a
loose fire hose, he made a tight little point with the tip of his tongue and
massaged my aching clitoris, and he dutifully licked my asshole like all
good little boys should.

As I could feel the orgasm building inside me, again I made noise. But it
had a different effect this time. I looked down and Peter and moaned little
"encouragements," "Yes Peter... That feels sooo good. Come on, satisfy me
the way a bitch would. Use that tongue. Come on bitch yeah."

As I got closer to orgasm, I moved my hand from holding my down to grab a
hold of Peter's panties. I forcefully started to pull them up the crack of
his ass. My eyes never left Peter's face. When an especially strong wave of
pleasure would wash over me, I would pull sharply on his panties and giggle
quietly at the look of pain it caused him.  When at last I did come, I
pulled his panties so much I ripped them in two.

Oh well. This time I am going to send Peter to get his own panties.

(c) 1999 Copyright. All rights reserved. By Deborah the Cowgirl.
--
All of Deborah's fiction is achieved at www.fiendishglee.com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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