His First Pink Panties

When my husband (then fiance) admitted years ago—after lengthy interrogation—that he liked the idea of sissification, the big reveal was pretty anticlimactic. For one thing, I had no idea what sissification was at the time! Then, once he’d explained it some, I wrinkled my nose and said I didn’t see myself ever particularly wanting him to wear girls 'undies.

Oh, how suddenly things can change.

One evening home alone, my slave and I decided to read through a list of activities and behaviors to rank how willing he’d be to try them on a scale of 1-5. The list came from She’s in Control, a book being sold by Sarah Jameson which I’ll review once I get a chance to finish reading it.

When we came to the line for "Forced dressing (opposite sexual identity - private)," slave said that he ranked it a three in the diffident tone I know to mean, "I am lying to you a little bit because I don’t want to admit how much I desire this embarrassing thing."

Luckily, my slave can’t lie to me. I always know, and if he doesn’t admit it immediately, he will be punished.

"Three?" I said archly. "I would’ve thought this would be a five. Didn’t you mention to me once that you wanted sissification?"

"Yes..." he conceded in the slightly whimpering tone that says he thinks he’s about to get himself in trouble. "But you said you weren’t interested."

His head tilted downward, his eyes fixed on the sheets. His hips pressed down into the bed slightly. I knew his cock was hard and leaking against the sheets and his eyes would be wide and dilated if I forced them up to mine.

I told you, I know my slave.

"True, but you are very interested, aren’t you?" His head ducked further down toward the sheets. "Aren’t you, slave? You will answer me."

"Yes," he finally said in a small voice.

Was I particularly eager to see pink panties on my husband? No, not particularly. But our bodies are programmed to respond to our lovers' arousal with arousal. He was horny as hell and dripping precum, ready to lick my feet if I asked. And the idea of pink panties had done it. Well, hell. Why not?

I hopped off the bed and went straight to my dresser, rummaging around in the top drawer.

"What are you doing?" he asked warily.

"Looking for those one-size-fits-all panties that are huge on me, of course." I pulled out the lacy pink things and held them up. "Well? Here you go. Put them on now."

He stood up slowly but hung back, giving me a petulant pout. I stalked up to him, gripped his balls, shoved the lace into his hand and whispered against his ear, "You will put those panties on."

The next morning, after twelve hours of watching my slave walk around in panties, I can’t say I really knew why it aroused me. I suppose it aroused me because it aroused him.

In any case, the effect was undeniable: as he licked my clit and thrust his fingers against my g-spot, I found myself gasping threats and promises: "Soon I’m going to buy you more panties, sissy. You’ll be wearing them all the time, under your uniform, no one else will know but you will, lacy panties with a wet spot on the front from your little clitty, just like a woman, my sissy slave.…" With every word my slave squirmed more, my pussy got wetter, my clit got tighter, until I finally exploded.

That afternoon I went to the store and bought some more XL pink panties.

Mistress K