Humiliated in Panties Part Two
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Humiliated In Panties (Part One) free porn video
Frank rushed through the door and shot a glance at the clock on the
kitchen wall. It was only 3:30 p.m. and that meant he had at least three
hours of his special alone time before his mother would be home from work
downtown. He unbuttoned his shirt as he quickly strode to his room,
peeled off his undershirt and dropped on the bed to pull off his shoes
and socks. Moments later he had stripped off his trousers and white
cotton underpants, stood, and walked with a shiver of excitement into his
sister's room.
He had done this many times before. It had all started one Halloween with
a pair of royal blue panties that matched the junior varsity cheerleader
outfit he wore as a costume. His mother, Lisa, and his sister Lindsey had
assured him it was all in good fun as they dressed him, styled his
shoulder-length dark brown hair and applied his make-up. When they had
finished their handiwork, he could hardly believe his eyes. As he peered
into a mirror, a pretty girl looked back. 'Frankie,' his sister called
him, because no one that pretty should be called Frank.
And now as he opened the drawers of his sister's dresser he yearned to be
Frankie once again. He knew exactly what he wanted in that drawer and
where to find the white panties with the lace at the waistband and leg
openings. He had opened that same drawer countless times before when he
was home alone. At first he only stared breathlessly at the lingerie,
then he began to hold the delicate fabrics in trembling fingers,
remembering the excitement he felt wearing the royal blue panties. And
then he succumbed to his desires and picked out panties he could slip for
a few minutes and then furtively put them back the drawer. It was only a
matter of time before he began wearing the panties hidden under his jeans
and trousers whenever he could be sure neither his mother or sister would
catch him. But those times were rare enough.
Now Lindsey had gone off to her first year of college, left early in fact
to take late summer term classes. And, despite taking three suitcases and
several garment bags of clothes, she had left behind a closet full of
skirts, tops and dresses and drawers of lingerie. Lindsey always seemed
much taller than her brother, but at five-foot six-inches tall he was
only an inch shorter and with his slim build and small waist he found to
his delight that her clothes fit him. So now he had a huge wardrobe to
choose from with panties, bras, skirts and dresses.
He took the lace trimmed panties from the drawer and daintily stepped
into them, drawing the smooth, silky fabric up his lean legs, pulling
panties snug across his behind and settling them at his waist. He turned
first one hip and then the other toward the mirror above the dresser and
admired the pink bows that adorned the top of each high cut leg opening.
He ran his fingers across the swelling bulge in the panties and sighed.
He opened another drawer and drew out a full cup pink bra and a small
box. He quickly wrapped the garment backwards around him fastened it
easily, then twisted it around to position the cups over his flat chest,
and slipped his arms through the dangling shoulder straps. With the sure
touch that came from long practice he took the two foam inserts from the
box and nestled one in each cup and settled them with his hands. He
turned to look at the profile of his bosom in the mirror and tossed his
hair back over his shoulder for a better look.
A pink cashmere sweater, with a ribbed waist band and ribbed short
sleeves was retrieved from in box in another drawer and then he strode
towards Lindsey's bedroom closet. He knew what he wanted to wear and
easily found the pleated, white chiffon skirt on a hanger. With the skirt
and top on hand, he made his way to his mother's room. What a shame, he
though, that Lindsey did not have the hosiery selection he craved. But
the drawers in his mother's dresser held dozens of pairs of stockings.
Frankie laid the sweater and skirt on top of the shining white satin
damask bedspread He opened one drawer and drew out a neatly folded pair
of nylon stockings and from another, a white open-bottom girdle with
garters. He eased the girdle up his legs and settled in in place,
smoothing it with his hands. Gently, he took one nylon stocking and
rolled it from welt to toe between his fingers before easing it gingerly
up his leg. We expertly fastened one garter as he sat on the bed and
stood to fasten the other. With one stocking on he repeated the process
on his other leg and finished by bending over at the waist to run a hand
up each leg. He backed away from the dresser far enough to get a glimpse
of the stocking tops in the mirror
He slipped the chiffon skirt on next and felt a rush of excitement as
that soft fabric slipped across his nylon clad legs. Now he was ready for
the sweater and he pulled it over his head, rolled it down over his bra
and gently tugged the waistband down. With two hands he flicked his hair
out of the sweater's collar and paused again to look into the mirror.
Nylon stockings weren't the only guilty pleasure he had found in his
mother's room. When he first started dressing, he did so without shoes.
None of the shoes that lined the bottom of Lindsey's closet fit. But the
heels in his mother's closet he discovered one day, fit quite well on a
foot encased in a nylon stocking. So now he selected a pair of three-inch
heels, in pink patent leather, and carried them pinched between the
fingers of one hand from the closet to the bed. He ran a hand behind him
to smooth the skirt he was wearing, crossed his legs, raised his right
heel and slipped on the first shoe. He slowly uncrossed his legs,
delighting in the smooth sensation of nylon gliding over nylon and then,
just as slowly, crossed them again to slip on the other high heel.
He inched forward off the bed, stood up and taking small, mincing steps
he left the bedroom and walked down the hall towards a full length
mirror. He walked slowly with his gaze fixed on the image of a girl in
high heels with a skirt that seemed to twirl around her thighs. The girl
tugged her sweater down and thrust out her breasts and passed a hand
through her hair. As he walked closer to the mirror he could feel his
cock swelling in his panties. He stopped, leaned towards the mirror and
smiled. "Hello again, Frankie," he said to the mirror. "I love that skirt
and those heels are perfect."
With that Frankie walked down the hallway, delighting in the sound of
high heels clicking across the hardwood floor, and retrieved a small
compact and lipstick from the vanity in the large bathroom. Frankie loved
to see the girl in the mirror putting on lipstick and he was so caught up
in the moment and the excitement that left a hot spot of pre-cum in his
panties that he was paralyzed when he heard his mother's voice.
"Frank, I'm home," she called out as she strode down the hallway. "You
wouldn't believe it but a contractor cut through the power line to our
building and ..." Lisa stopped short in the doorway to the bathroom and
took a long look at her son in nylons and high heels, a short skirt and a
tight sweater, putting on lipstick.
"Don't let me interrupt, sweetie," Lisa said with a sneer. "You just go
ahead and finish putting on your lipstick. Go ahead now."
"Mother, I, I ..." Frankie stammered.
"Finish putting on your lipstick and then come out here where I can get a
good look at you," Lisa insisted.
Frankie did as he was told and stood shame-faced with his head hung and
shoulders sagging in front of his mother.
"Stand up straight," she snapped. "Put your shoulders back, brush that
hair out of your eyes." Lisa circled the trembling Frankie like a tigress
sizing up her prey and then backed away for a good long look at him from
head to toe. Well, she said to herself, the darling thing has no trouble
walking in three-inch heels, so he must have had some practice. Legs are
nice and long; time for my little sweetheart to start shaving her legs.
Looks good in a skirt, but has the legs to wear a higher hemline no
doubt. Hmm, tiny little waist, no point in covering that up with a
sweater, even one that's a little tight. Obviously wearing a bra. Wonder
what the dear used to fill it out. Oh and that hair, nice and thick and
long, but definitely not the right color, and really needs to be styled.
I'll have to do something with that. Oh yes, yes and make-up, too. This
girl is going to need more than a little lipstick. Her mind raced with
delightful possibilities and, she thought to herself, the torment will be
exquisite. She nodded and a wry smile played at her lips.
"I want you to get undressed now. Take off that sweater and put in back
where you found it. Hang up the skirt and put it back in Lindsey's
closet. Put my heels back. Then put everything else in the laundry."
Nothing more was said about the incident that afternoon nor was it
discussed that evening. For the next few days Frank was on pins and
needles, expecting at any time to be confronted by his mother. But the
days passed and he finally felt relieved, expecting now that the whole
episode would be forgotten and that the two had a tacit agreement not to
talk about it. So he thought nothing of it when she called out to him
from behind her closed bedroom door early on Saturday afternoon.
"Frank" she called out. "Be a dear and go the laundry room. There's a
black skirt hanging there. Bring it to me." He did as he was asked, found
the black skirt and brought it back to her door. "Um, I have it ..."
Lisa opened the door wearing a loosely tied pink satin robe that barely
concealed the tops of the sheer black stockings she wore, the dark high
waist panty girdle and a deeply cut black bra edged in black lace. Frank
wasn't in the least bit fazed by the sight. Growing up in a household
with two women, he had seen both his mother and sister in various stages
of undress as they rushed around the house getting ready to go out. Lisa
pointed to the bed. "Just lay it down there. I'll need you to help me zip
it up." She crinkled her nose at him. "It's supposed to fit snug."
He stepped past her towards the bed and his heart sank. There, positioned
squarely at the bottom of the bed, were the white lace and ribbon panties
he was wearing when she surprised him. His mouth went dry and he could
not tear his eyes away from the panties. Lisa shed her robe and slipped
on a low cut black blouse with three-quarter length sheer sleeves. The
lace edge of her bra was just peeking out of the blouse that now showed
off her cleavage nicely. She picked up the skirt and unfastened two
buttons and unzipped the side seam zipper. In a moment she had slid it up
over her shapely legs and hiked it to her waist. Her nimble fingertips
quickly tucked her blouse into the skirt and she turned a hip to Frank.
With her hands pressing in either side of her waist, she looked at him
and merely nodded. Frank found the zipper and tugged it closed up over
her hip and up her waist. Lisa relaxed, smoothed the skirt with her hands
and took a moment to turn before the mirror.
"In my closet there's a pair of black leather high heels," she said as a
matter of fact. "Be a dear and get them down off the shelf for me. There
in a box right next to the box with the pink heels you were wearing the
other day."
Frank cringed and with trembling hands he reached up for the box. "Just
give me the heels and put the box back up." Frank said nothing as he
opened the box and took out the pair of 4-1/2 inch heels.
"So, just exactly what were you doing darling, wearing women's clothes?"
She asked the question with an emphasis on the words were and women's.
She patted the bed beside her even as she crossed her legs to put on a
high-heeled shoe. "Sit here and tell mother all about it, honey."
He sat down, his mind reeling and his stomach in knots. "I, well, I, was,
just playing around that's all. I got home a little early and I was just
playing around." He hung his head.
"I see, she said, "so you decided to play dress-up. Well how nice for
you. Tell me, did you enjoy getting dressed up?"
He was mute and stared down at his hands in his lap.
"Was it fun wearing Lindsey's clothes, wearing my clothes? Was it? Ohhh,
honey I'll bet you were just so excited. I'll bet you love it every time
you get dressed."
Frank's head shot up and he stared at her open-mouthed. "No, I ..."
"Are you trying to tell me that this was the first time you dressed in
our clothes?" Lisa snapped. "Don't even go there, because I know better
darling. Don't you think I know that you've been sneaking into my
drawers, into my closet? And into Lindsey's things? And how often do you
dress up honey?"
"Ah, ah, well, I suppose I've done it a few times, a couple times."
"Oh really," Lisa said with a snarl in her voice as she stood up. "A few
times, a couple of times. Well just how many is a few?" She towered over
him as he sat there shame-faced. "Well I am waiting for answer."
Frank shook his head, "Oh, I don't know, maybe four or five times."
Lisa shook her head impatiently. "Really, just four or five times. Do you
expect me to believe that? Well, let's just say it was four or five
times. So what do you wear when you dress up?"
"A dress . . .or a skirt... sometimes. . . "
"Do you wear bras?" she asked quietly. He nodded.
"And panties?" He trembled and nodded again. Lisa reached over him and
picked up the white lace-trimmed panties.
"Aren't these the pretty panties you were wearing the other day?" she
asked. He nodded again. "Well, they are lovely, I must admit. The lace
around the waist and the leg openings, these pretty little ribbons.
They're just so feminine. Why I not surprised at all you picked them.
Here, take them. Go on, honey, take them, you've worn them often enough
they ought to be yours." She held up the panties in front of his face.
Tears welled up in his eyes as he reached for the panties. Lisa cooed in
his ear as she leaned forward. "Happy tears honey? So happy to have your
pretty panties? So what do you have to say now? Nothing. At the very
least you should say thank-you."
Frank lifted his head and stared at her. "Go on, let me hear you say it,"
she commanded.
He swallowed hard and in a small voice said, "Thank you."
Lisa sighed in mock exasperation. "Thank you mother, for ..."
Frank was in torment but he knew he had to answer her. "Thank you mother
for the panties." Lisa corrected him, and said "I want to hear 'Thank you
mother for letting me have my pretty panties.' "
He was in agony and but the words finally passed his lips. "Thank you
mother for letting me have my pretty panties." Tears rolled down his
cheeks.
She stood up and paced around the room hiding a triumphant smile. She
turned to him. "I hope you realize now that you can't just take my
things. You can't take your sister's things just because you like them.
And you have absolutely no business sneaking about and taking our
intimate apparel. Have I made myself absolutely clear?"
He nodded vigorously. Lisa leaned over him and wiped the tears from his
cheeks with her thumbs. "Now, that's settled, and I think we both agree
what needs to be done."
Frank looked up at his mother in confusion.
"Well," she said. "It's obvious to me that you need your own things. So,
let's get you some panties of your own. Nothing fancy, of course, maybe
some nice white cotton panties just for every day wear. How will that
be?"
He was stunned. "No, no, oh please no, I don't want panties..."
"Well," she said as she interrupted him, "I understand. White cotton
panties are so boring. How about some in colors? Some nice pastels, some
cute patterns?"
He shook his head, "No mother, no ..." His voice rose.
"Alright, alright," she said. "Calm down, no cotton panties in white or
any other color for that matter, then. We can get you some nylon panties,
they feel so nice and silky, so much better than cotton, I agree."
"No, no mother, I don't want nylon panties." Lisa reached out and put a
hand on his shoulder. "Well you certainly seem to have made up your mind
finally." She took the white lace-trimmed panties from his hands. "No
plain cotton panties, no silky nylon panties, so it's obvious that we
need to get you some pretty panties just like these. Just like the ones
you always wear." Lisa smiled broadly.
Frank just shook his head he tried to speak but no words came out.
"Now, put on your panties and we'll go."
"No, I can't, I just can't ... No!"
"Don't you dare back-talk to me," Lisa said with feigned fury. "I come
home from work and what do I find.? You wearing high heels and stockings.
A bra and panties. A skirt and a pink cashmere sweater. Putting on
lipstick. You dressed yourself then to the nines and now you tell me you
can't even put on a pair of panties." Lisa took a step toward him, tore
open his belt and dropped his pants. "You do it behind my back easily
enough, now put on these panties."
He was overwhelmed. His stomach was churning. He felt the sting of hot
tears on his cheeks. He eased off his shoes and finished taking off his
pants as she hovered over him. He trembled as he lowered his underwear.
He was shaking as he reached out for the panties. He stepped into the
lovely lace-edged panties and quickly drew them up to his waist.
Lisa quickly turned away to hide the huge grin on her face and suppress a
laugh. All this work she though, just to get him into panties and now
they're all covered up by his shirt tails. She made a show of going
through her purse on top of the dress and took out a lipstick. Lisa took
her time freshening up her lips with the velvet red color as she plotted
her next move. She could see enough of his face to realize he was
watching her intently and she paused with the cap in one hand and the
open lipstick in the other as she turned slightly to the left and then to
the right as she pretended to inspect her make-up. She purposefully held
the lipstick up at eye level and wound the cosmetic back down in its tube
and slowly slipped on the cap. She turned to the young man wearing a
woman's panties.
"There now, after all that, was it so hard just to put on a pair of
panties?" she asked quietly. He shook his head. "So, from now on, when I
tell you to do something, I expect you to do it without any argument from
you. You'll wear whatever clothes I tell you to wear." There was a hard
edge to her voice even if it was soft spoken. He simply nodded in
embarrassment standing in a pair of panties in front of her. She stepped
over to him, her heels clicking on the floor.
"Honey, I don't want to yell at you, but you must do as you are told,"
she said. She brushed back his hair, wiped away a tear on his cheek with
a manicured fingertip and lifted his chin. She slipped a finger under his
chin, and then gently down his neck to the collar and then began to
unbutton his short. She worked her way down, button by button until the
shirt front opened in her hands.
"Now, tell me dear, why do you wear panties?" she asked.
"You, you, told me to put them on ... I did what you told..." his voice
trailed off in confusion.
"Oh, sweetie, I'm not talking about today. No. I'm talking about the
other day when I came home and found you wearing panties. And for all the
other times you wore panties. What did you say, maybe six or seven other
times?"
He nodded and Lisa knew he was lying now. She slipped the open shirt off
his shoulders and down his arms and then let it fall to the floor. She
hooked a finger into the waist band of the panties he was wearing and
tugged him towards the mirror.
"So, then, I can think of only two reasons why you wear panties. One,
it's either because you really, really like the way they feel..." She ran
her fingertip along one lace-trimmed leg. "Or because they're so very
pretty..." She tugged gently at the bows on his hips. She turned him to
face the mirror and stood behind him. She toyed with the lace on the
waist, playfully fluttered the ribbons on his hips then ran her
fingertips across his panty-covered behind.
"Hmm," she purred in his ear. "Because they are pretty, or because you
like the way they feel?" She stood behind him, wrapped an arm around his
chest and pulled him back to her pressing him against her breasts. With
her other hand she reached down and gently stroked the inside of his
thigh and then let her fingers brush slowly across the silky fabric. She
felt the heat of his arousal through the thin fabric and wrapped her
fingers gently around his cock bulging in the panties. Then she leaned
down to his ear and whispered. "Just tell me, you can tell me..."
He quivered under her touch and his face was red with humiliation and
anxiety. His mouth was dry and he felt sweat on his neck. His mind raced
and even though his aching cock betrayed him he lied again. "Oh, oh," he
said, "it's because they are pre ... pret ... pretty."
Lisa smiled and sank her lips into his hair and close to his ear. "Yes,
darling, I know why you wear panties. Look in the mirror. See, how pretty
you are in those panties. Mommy loves seeing her sissy boy in pretty
panties. We're going to get lots and lots of pretty things for you to
wear darling. Satin panties and lace bras, silky sheer nylon stockings,
naughty little nighties. Lovely lingerie. High heels. Beautiful dresses.
Oh yes, honey, wonderful dresses. And underneath those flirty, girly
dresses, always, always, I promise, just the prettiest panties for my
sweet darling to wear. Because you like pretty things."
He moaned softly as she released his cock. Lisa had felt wetness from the
pre-cum oozing from the head of his cock wrapped in the silky panties and
knew he was close to exploding, to filling those delicate panties with a
load of his steaming cum. He was trapped now. She knew it and felt a
surge of satisfaction with the power she had over him. It excited her.
She felt her own breath start to come in short gasps and she willed
herself to take control.
"Now," she said with her mouth close to his ear again, "we both know why
you love to wear pretty panties. But if you're going to be wearing pretty
panties like these honey, this will never do." She ran her fingertips
over the hair that showed above the waist band and the thin, sparse hairs
on tops of his thighs He moaned softly again. "It's so distracting to see
all this hair around these lovely panties. Don't you want to be nice and
smooth when you wear panties?" With an open palm she stroked his
imprisoned cock knotted in his panties. He was mad for release.
"Why don't you go in the bathroom right now and get nice and smooth,
hmmm,? Wouldn't that feel so much better honey? If you were nice and
smooth?"
"Yes, yes," he said between short breaths he sucked in between his teeth.
She slowly unwrapped her arm from around his small chest and quickly
tuned him to face her. She towered over him in her high heels and she
leaned down to kiss him firmly on the lips.
"Alright darling, go and get nice and smooth for me." Lisa smiled
triumphantly. She knew exactly what her darling sissy in panties would do
next. Then she realized, with an ardor that took her breath away, that
soon enough he would beg her to be dressed as her beautiful girl.
Frankie practically flew to the bathroom, closed the door and lowered the
silky panties below the head of his throbbing cock. With one hand he
clutched the panties around the shaft and rubbed the head of his penis
with his thumb even as he stroked his panty covered ass. He felt himself
shudder and ejaculated in a wave that left him weak-kneed and clutching
the edge of the vanity sink as he spurted a geyser of milky cum into the
bowl.
Still aching from the torment of being aroused, humiliated, excited and
embarrassed, he sank to his knees in exhaustion and shame. His thoughts
raced in a thousand directions. She knew, he told himself, she had to
know, had to know how excited he was when he dressed up. The panties, the
bras, the stockings, the skirts and dresses, she knew about it all. But
oh, oh, what would happen now, he thought. In his agitation he didn't
hear the first knock at the door, or the second more insistent knock. Her
voice coming through the door finally roused him.
"Sweetheart. Darling, is everything ok?"
He rose dizzily to his feet. "Yes, yes, mother. Yes, I'm alright. I'll be
a while. I, I ... I'm shaving now." He took a razor from the drawer and
stared for a moment at the velvet red color on his lips.
To be continued in Part 2
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