Under Her Spell

"Yes, I smelled them."

"My goodness, what a naughty thing to do! And after I'd worn them all day! Did you like how they smelled? "

"Un huhn."

"You liked sniffing my panties - my fragrant soiled panties?"

"Yes"

"Say it. I want to hear you say it,"

"I . . . I liked sniffing your fragrant soiled panties." Saying it brought surprising relief.

"There, that wasn't so hard, now was it?"

Now tell me everything. Everything you did and everything you felt. Regina wants to hear you tell all."

Once the initial taboo was aired, it all started to come out, like a siphon had been started. The more I said the more embarrassed I felt but also the more relieved to let it out. It gained its own momentum to where I couldn't stop and didn't want to.

"Yes, I liked sniffing your panties, especially the soiled crotch. I love how they smelled. I put them over my head and jerked off while smelling them. I've done that at least twice a day all week since you gave them to me. I didn't want to at first but after a few days I . . . I . . . started licking them."

"Oh my! My panties compelled you to do that? Ha, ha! Oh, sweetie, were my panties controlling your behavior? I knew you would be easy to panty-whip but I didn't expect you to surrender so easily to them on your own without any encouragement! What a natural panty boy you are! Now tell me where. Where exactly did you lick, babydoll?"

"Um, . . . I licked the inside of the gusset. I lapped it up, all your sticky pussy cream. And later I sucked them clean."

"Naughty, boy! How'd it make you feel? Did Geney-weenie like sniffing and licking Aunty Regina's dirty stinky panties?"

"I loved it! It felt so good, like I was safe at home. I've never been that excited before! I couldn't control myself and didn't want to. I just had to jerk off. "

By this time I was drunk with lust. She was blatantly exposing her red panties to me and I wanted so badly to lick them while she wore them. She seemed to know this already. Her eyes glowed like coals. She spread her legs a little wider.

"That's very good, Geney, very good! I really like hearing you tell me how my panties affected you; how you lost control to them. You're looking at my panties right now, aren't you Geney?

"Unh hunh", I had fallen into a trance looking at her red panties through her slowly oscillating legs.

"Crawl over to me, Geney, so you can get a better look."

My dick was so hard it was awkward to crawl, but I did so until I was a foot away from her pantied mound. I could see the outline of her labia through the thin material and the aroma of her arousal was making my head spin.

"Look, Geney, look at my panties. They control you, don't they? You'd do anything to worship them, wouldn't you?"

"Unh hunh." was all I could muster.

"Would you like to be Regina's panty boy? You wanna to be my widdle panty-sniffing, crotch-licking, jerk-off?"

Her words got to me. "Ohhhhh, unh hunh, please, may I?"

"Mmmmm, very well. Today's your lucky day" as she slid off the desk.

She deftly unbuckled her belt, unzipped her skirt, and stepped out of it. She then pulled her red panties half way down, so they were taught between her mid-thighs. Her swollen labia protruded from just beneath her black garter belt.

"Come and get it, panty boy. Come smell Regina's panties. Only sniff."

I put my face right down close to the panty crotch. I could feel her labia brushing the hair on the top of my head. I deeply inhaled of her scent. Laced through her thick womanly bouquet were very faint overtones of urine and ass musk. The lushness of her scents with their accompanying pheromones hit me like a jolt of narcotics and my balls immediately tightened, "Oh, God! Ohhhhhhhhhhh." was all I could say. I was completely intoxicated.

"Uh, uh, that's enough for now!" she said as she pushed me away. She pulled her panties back up and proceeded to remove her shoes and unclip and remove her stockings. She pulled the desk chair over, pulled her panties half way down and sat in the chair.

She grasped the panty crotch with her fingers and turned it inside out.

"Come closer, Geney. Do you see those slimy white streaks on my dirty panties? That's Regina's pussy cream. Is that what you like to lick up?"

"Oh, God ... oh, God . . . yes! Yes! Ohhhhhh!"

"Show me how you like to lick Regina's dirty panties. I want to see you lick up my creamy pussy juices. Do it!"

The humiliation I felt when telling her that I'd licked her panties had been tempered with the relief of confession. Being told to lick her vaginal secretions off of the crotch of her panties while she watched was more intensely humiliating than I ever would have imagined. And yet I strongly felt compelled to do it. I had agreed to do as she told me – to obey her. And regardless of that I desperately wanted to. I started to lick the pungent salty goo off the cotton gusset while she held them out for me. As I licked I could feel her fingers on the other side of the crotch, pushing them against my tongue.

After a little while she said, "Wait" and stopped to slide them off her legs. She made me stick out my tongue as far as I could and hold it out and she used her fingers to vigorously rub and wipe the slimy inside of the crotch on my tongue, "That's it, lick it all up, panty boy. Every little bit! Mmmm, yummy!" I almost gagged but my dick was the hardest it had ever been and I didn't want her to stop.

"Okay, Geney, that's enough. You clearly like that, even though it's second hand. I think it's time for you to get some of that yumminess fresh, right from the source. Would Geney like that, hnnnh?"

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh," All I could do was let out a low moan of assent.

She scooted forward on the chair and firmly pulled my face to her crotch. "Lick my pussy. Get your tongue in there really deep, as far as you can. Ahhhhhhhh, that's it. That's what you've been wanting all along isn't it? Suck up all my juices. Show me what a good cunt lapper you're going to be for Aunty Regina!"

She had me eat her out for a long time. She kept a tight hold of my head, pushing it around and directing me how she wanted to be licked, tongued and sucked. She told me over and over that I was her cunt lapper now, how she was going to have to train me to do it just the way she liked, and that many hours of practice would be required. I was in heaven and lost all track of time.

The first time she came, a little fluid squirted out and coated my face. She just kept going, using it as lubricant for humping my face. As her second orgasm approached she warned me and said "I'm going to come again, Geney. I'm going to squirt my cum in your mouth. Catch all of it this time, don't miss a drop! Here it comes! Ohhhhhh! Ohhhhhh! Ohhhhhhh!" and she let loose with a series of short squirts. I caught it all and swallowed it.

After she had come down a bit from her orgasms, she produced a towel from somewhere and wiped my face off in an almost methodically maternal way. "That was good, Geney, very good. Did you enjoy that too?"

I was on another planet. Her toying with me, dominating me, and using me for her sexual satisfaction was the most exciting, gratifying experience that I had ever had. I felt like I could and would do anything for this woman.

My dick was so hard that it hurt. I was whimpering a little whenever I changed position.

She saw my suffering and reached out and grabbed my dick through my pants. I almost went through the roof. "Oh, it looks like someone here did enjoy that. Good lord, it's hard! Let's take a look at your little weenie. Stand up and take your pants off, Geney."

I stood up in a daze and she started unbuckling my belt for me. As she began to pull my trousers down I came to my senses, realized what was happening and, in a panic, held onto my pants to keep them up.

"What are you doing, Geney? Let go, I want to see your little dickie," and she yanked the pants out of my hand and down to the floor. "What's this then? Oh my God! Those are my panties! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! You're wearing the panties I gave you last week! No wonder you didn't want your pants down."

With my pants around my ankles I stood before her utterly mortified. I had washed and dried her panties intending to return them to her. I had forgotten that I had impulsively put them on that morning in a desperate attempt to feel closer to her. At the time it had seemed reasonable but now it just seemed pathetic.

"Oh, Geney! you are a panty boy, aren't you? Ha, ha! You know, I've been calling you Geney as in G-E-N-E-Y, but now I think Jeanie as in J-E-A-N-I-E might suit you better. Yes, I think from now on when you hear me say "Jeanie" you should know that I mean J-E-A-N-I-E. Others might not notice the difference but you will know. Oh, we are going to have so much fun with this, Jeanie with a J."

I was dying of humiliation. What had I been thinking? I noticed that my dick had noticeably softened.

"So, Jeanie-jay, I knew you liked me wearing very feminine clothing but now I see you like wearing pretty things too. Apparently, you like wearing my pretty panties, hnnnh? Do they make you feel special? Like a pretty girl?"

She had pulled the front band of the panties out so that she could inspect my dick.

"Oooh, what happened to Jeanie-jay's little dickie-poo? It was so hard before." With that she began aggressively kneading my penis. "I want to see Jeanie-jay getting really hard in her pretty panties!"

I was moaning and whimpering. I hated the direction this was leading but the combination of the physical stimulation and the humiliation was getting me really hard again.

"Does Jeanie-jay like dressing up in girly things? Hnnnh? Maybe Jeanie-jay is curious to see what it would be like to be a girl, hnnnh?" She was grasping my dick through the panties and jacking me off. I wasn't going to last very long.

"Would Jeanie-jay like to be Auntie Regina's niece and dress up in pretty panties and party dresses?" With that last remark I shot my load, hard. "Oh, my! I think we just learned that Jeanie-jay gets excited thinking about being girly! Ha, ha!"

I was mortified – that I had come when she said such things and that she was pointing that out. I just wanted to hide. Thankfully she seemed to let it go by. She patted my waning erection and said, "I think that's enough for tonight, Jeanie. Pull up your pants." She had me gather my things and within two minutes I was once more out on the doorstep.

I didn't see her again for over two weeks.

She had really gotten in my head. After that last encounter I couldn't go ten minutes without thinking about her. I ached to submit to her feminine authority. I wanted to be kneeling in front of her, smelling her scent, tonguing her deeply, and drinking her squirts of cum.

First thing in the morning when I woke up, I jacked off thinking about her; last thing at night before going asleep, I jacked off thinking about her; sometimes even during the day I would start thinking about her and have to find a lockable unisex restroom to jack off in.

I didn't have a pair of her worn panties anymore, just the ones I had come in and washed a second time. So as masturbated I would replay in my mind the things she had done and said. Eventually, I would come to the part where she said, "Does Jeanie-jay like dressing up in girly things? Hnnnh? Maybe Jeanie-jay is curious to see what it would be like to be a girl, hnnnh? Would Jeanie-jay like to be Auntie Regina's niece and dress up in pretty panties and party dresses?" and that's when I'd come.

I started to obsess on those remarks. Damn it, why had I put on her panties? What did that mean? And why had her remarks about me wanting to be girly and wear panties and dresses made me come? The more I thought about it (and came to that thought) the less I was repelled by it. But still, it was simultaneously compelling and frightening.

Three times a day over two and a half weeks is just over 50 ejaculations, each time hearing her words ring in my head. The longer I went without seeing her, the more desperate I felt. I was gradually convincing myself that seeing her again might be conditional on my acceptance of the truth of her remarks. After all, seeing her was completely on her terms, which meant submitting to her feminine authority. And submitting wasn't exactly masculine. And it did excite me terribly to be dominated by her and to serve her sexually, satisfying her orally. And I was inordinately drawn to the soft satiny textures she wore. And I had put her panties on, for Christ's sake. The more I thought like this, the more the prospect was turning me on. If I even thought about wearing panties or a dress I'd get a hard on.

I came to realize that she was dominating me and transforming me without even being present or involved. She'd had me doing her bidding, and now I was acting for her to mind-fuck myself all the way to Pansy City. All she'd had to do was lay the groundwork and I'd taken it from there. The first time by giving me her soiled panties and the second time by making me come in my panties while taunting me about wanting to be girly. That too was part of the submission. And yet the deeper I got the more I wanted it that way.

The next time I contacted Regina was on a Wednesday night at the library. I hadn't seen her for two and a half weeks and was quite desperate. I didn't actually see her. Midway through studying I'd gone to the bathroom and when I returned I found a note propped up against my books. It was an envelope, the fancy kind they use for special occasions. On the front in lavish floral script "Jeanie" was written. I looked around and didn't see her anywhere.

I opened the envelope and pulled out a very formal looking invitation, printed in lavender colored ink. It read:

Ms. Regina Wakefield requests your presence on this Friday evening at seven P.M. sharp at 110 Coventry Lane for an evening of service and transformative transcendence. Dress appropriately for the occasion. R.S.V.P unnecessary as attendance is expected.

I felt like I'd just received a special honor, like an invitation to the white house. My god, was that where she lived? Had I actually been invited to her home? I struggled to keep my imagination in check.

The next day, Thursday, my mind churned obsessively about what might transpire. On my way to work the next day, I walked by the street – not by the address, which was midblock – just to the corner of the nearest cross-street. I peeked down the block and guessed it was the classy building that looked like it had a courtyard. I don't know why, but I felt terribly guilty that I had gone by like that.

I also kept returning to the language in the invitation. It was addressed to Jeanie, not Gene or even Geney. It promised "an evening of service and transformative transcendence." Service was obvious enough; but it sounded like her expectations might go much farther than I dared imagine. From her choice of words, all I could surmise was that, in some big way, change was in the cards. Then there was "Dress appropriately for the occasion" but what occasion might that be? Was it going to be a party or formal dinner? I doubted that. No, I thought I knew where all the signs were pointing. Damn it if my cock didn't get hard again at the thought.

I guess I knew what she expected me to do. I was terrified but I felt I had to do it. So, during my lunch hour I took a trip to the local mall and made my way to one of the higher end department stores. I found the women's lingerie department and loitered outside for about ten minutes trying to work up the courage to go inside. I waited until there seemed to be a lull in the number of women browsers and then headed for the area that looked like it carried panties.

The variety on display was overwhelming. I tried to narrow down the choices quickly so I could minimize my exposure time amongst the frillies. I was strongly drawn to those that had a satiny feel, and found myself fondling pair after pair to gauge the tactile sensation. I knew that I wanted that satiny feel. The style had to be the full-backs -- more room for my stuff and more fabric to feel. The color was harder. I just couldn't do pink, but really liked a lavender colored pair. Then I got to size and looked for the dimensions of the waist in inches. What the hell size is a 6 or 10 or 14? I was stymied.

"Can I help you?" She was young, maybe 18 at most. A little on the short side, but pleasantly proportioned. Dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, and dark framed glasses. An utterly charming crooked smile, and air about her that was a combination of sincerely earnest professional and intellectually irreverent goofball. I just blinked at her dumbly, not knowing what to say.

"Hello? Mars to Mr. Customer – do you read me?"

"Oh, sorry, uh no, I was just looking and . . . "

"You need help with the sizes, right?"

"Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I do."

"Do you know her size, or her waist or hip measurements?"

"Uh, no, not exactly. That's the problem."

"Has she ever worn your pants?"

"Wha . . . what?" This was getting really weird.

"You know, so you would have a comparison."

"Oh! Yes, well, then I suppose so. I guess she's pretty close to my waist size."

"Ok, in that case, I'd say she's probably close to a size 8. If they are way off, she could return them anyway."

"Oh, good. Thank you. That was very helpful."

"No problem. Nice choice by the way. Any girl would love to wear those. Very pretty color."

I could feel a blush welling up, "Thank you."

"Don't mention it. You know, we sell a matching bra, as well. Would you be interested in that?"

My ears started to burn with embarrassment and my mouth went dry. "But I wouldn't know the size."

She stepped back and looked me up and down and smilingly said, "I'd say a 38A might work."

Now I was deeply embarrassed. There wasn't any doubt in my mind that she had eyeballed the size by looking at me.

Still, I said, "Uh, I'll take it."

"Very good sir. Will that be all for you today?" Everything she said now seemed like a double entendre.

"Yes, that's it."

She wrapped it all nicely in tissue paper and I paid her.

As I was about to leave she whispered to me "Do you want to know how I knew?"

I wanted to play stupid but was genuinely curious so I said, "OK, how?

"All boys sooner or later cross paths with one of their girlfriend's bras. They are always compelled to check out the size, and they tend not to forget it, either."

"Mmm, good point. And thanks so much for your help."

"Anytime. My name is Ginny."

"Thanks, again Ginny." I didn't offer my name and was so relieved to be out of there.

When I returned to work I took great pains to keep my new purchase safely hidden from view. Still, until I could take it home, I was very nervous. I could hardly wait until I could look at the lingerie in privacy of my own home.

That evening after dinner I set my new treasure on the bed and reverently unwrapped the tissue paper. I picked up the lavender-colored panties with shaking hands and eagerly fondled the satiny texture. My heart was beating fast and I could feel my pulse in my fingertips. I stared at them and thought about the significance of the line I was about to cross.

When I had donned Regina's panties a few weeks before, I had convinced myself that it was a misguided effort to feel close to her. This was clearly something else. These panties weren't hers at all -- I had purchased them myself, of my own accord, in my size, with intention of wearing them. I had repeatedly masturbated and come so many times over the last few weeks while thinking about wearing pretty panties. The budding desire to feel girly was intensely erotic -- maybe because it was so forbidden – and I felt myself drawn towards it. That Regina seemed to encourage me in that direction and then belittle me for it made it irresistible. I didn't just want to wear panties. I wanted to do it in front of her and have her tease me mercilessly for it. I intensely desired her to humiliate me and then selfishly use me for her own sexual satisfaction.