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I’ve been aroused by the
idea of wearing panties for a good few years now, and it was my first fetish I
can remember (although it’s sparked plenty of others along the way); it started
when I was fifteen. My mom and my sister had gone to the mall together, and my
mom had asked me to get my sister’s laundry from her room and start the
washing. I was carrying her basket when a pair of her panties fell out of the
pile, and on an impulse, I took them. She didn’t notice they were gone, and I
started wearing them when I was alone in the house and masturbating. It grew
from there - I loved the feel of the lace and the satin against my cock and
ass, so I took one of her thongs next time. Before I knew it, I had a big
collection, stuffed under my bed, of panties, thongs, g-strings, a couple of
bras as well, and even one of her miniskirts. I’m quite slim, so I could fit
into it fairly easily, but what amazed me was that she didn’t notice they were
going missing (or if she did, she didn’t care).
I was sixteen when she found
them. My mom had asked her to get something from my room, I didn’t hear her
coming up the stairs and she walked in to find me wearing her skirt, bra and
silk thong; for the longest moment, she just stood there, in shock, and I
started begging her not to say anything to my parents about it - they’re quite
conservative, and they’d probably go crazy if they ever found out.
My sister was calculating
about it - being older than me, she was already sexually active, and apparently
was in touch with her dominant side as well. She agreed not to tell anyone
about it as long as I obeyed her, unconditionally. I didn’t really have much of
a choice at first, but the idea intrigued me; she is a very sexy woman, and were she not my sister, I would probably already have at
least made a pass at her. Within a matter of days, she had the perfect
opportunity - our parents were going to be out of town for a week, since we
were in the school holidays, and I spent most of that week at her beck and
call. On one day, she forced me to wear one of her pink nightdresses with a
matching bra and thong set, and I spent the entire day dressed like that.
Up until then, my sexual
experience was restricted solely to masturbation, but my sister improved all of
that; like I say, she was already sexually active, and had no qualms about
giving me blowjobs that were absolutely mindblowing.
It didn’t take long before sexual release and wearing feminine clothing were
hand-in-hand with one another - any time I so much as thought about wearing her
panties, my cock would inevitably rise to attention. It caused me a lot of
problems at times, like when I walk past a couple of girls sitting down and I
glance down their pants; one time, a girl was wearing a pair of gold-coloured
panties, and I got the intense craving to wear them for myself.
It was this that turned my
relationship with my sister from humiliation into a full-blown d/s one. I knew
where to get them from - they were in the
The late-night jacking off
sessions were one thing I’d kept secret from my sister, as I didn’t want her
interfering with them; if I didn’t jack off once every night, I would be crazy
the next morning - once, I even went as far as jacking off in a school bathroom
because I was so horny. But try as I did, I couldn’t keep it secret for long,
and the night after she’d forced me to parade up and down in our living room,
wearing a pink G-string and a pair of her four-inch heels, she caught me in the
act. She was furious.
Before I continue, I should
explain something - our garage is separate from our house, as a lot of houses
are, and there’s a path between our back door and the garage door that’s
completely out in the open. In the day, you can stand outside the house
opposite us and see all the way through into our garden, but I digress. Since
our parents were sound asleep, my sister knew we wouldn’t be disturbed; when
she came back into my room, she had one of her chokers, the one she wore with
her prom dress the year before, and she told me - no, ordered me, to put it on.
I did, but it was with shaking hands - I wasn’t quite sure what she was capable
of, but it wasn’t going to end well for me.
My suspicions were proved
right when she produced a dog leash from behind her back; clipping it to the
choker, she led me to the garage door. It took her a few moments to unlock it,
during which I was kneeling on the hard ground, bare-ass naked, then she shoved me inside and locked the door again. I
couldn’t figure out what the hell she was doing, so I pressed my face against
the glass and called out her name. I had no luck, of course, as the garage was effectively
sound-proofed thanks to the thick walls and the distance from the house.
Thankfully, she wasn’t planning to leave me there for the night; all she was
doing was getting some things.
She started out calmly
enough, pushing me face-first into the corner and putting her things on the
workbench. I could have reacted then, made a break for it, but I simply didn’t
want to. Part of me knew I was in for a lot of pain, but the other part of me
both knew it and welcomed it, and in the end, that was the bigger part.
‘Turn around, slave boy.’
Meekly, with my head bowed
and my hands instinctively cupping my cock and balls, I obeyed. There, on the
floor in front of me, was a bar stool, one of those we had in our kitchen.
‘Bend over the stool.’
Still looking down, I
shuffled over to the stool. It was at least three feet high, and I doubted
whether I could bend over it properly. My feet were just dangling off the
ground when I put my hands on the ground, so I put my feet down and grabbed
hold of the chair legs.
I had a feeling I was going
to need them.
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