Pink Leotard

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Panties Shows Her Panties

 

“Get in your favorite position,” said Miss D. Avril Lavigne played from her computer. Miss B’s hair was wild and loose from sleep. Her mood, as it is usually, was like sweet, like a liqueur. She had read the blog and Panties had spoken too assertively about a group she was associated with. “Do you want to hold your Barbie?” Panties chose Hip-2-B-Square Barbie and bent over on the red sheets. “Lift your skirt,” said Miss D. This would be the first time Panties had to show her panties. Miss D marveled at Panties’ pink bikinis. There was a long pause, then a flash of pink. Gentle again, but Panties let out a cry. Miss D asked Panties to make the sound a few more times and allowed her to get up.

First Spanking

 

This morning Panties woke in the closet as Miss D slept on the red sheets (her preferred color as well as that of her best friend who lectured Panties on the subject) of the full size bed. She is starting not to refer to the apartment as Panties’ or even hers, but the implication is clear. Soon there will be pink walls and Barbies everywhere. There are to be portraits of Panties and herself hung as well as a pink whip hung under one of her portraits to catch the eye of any guests Panties might invite. “We can sew beads and sequins onto the whip,” she said, adding with amusement, “You’ll have to make the whip that’s used on you.” She does some things differently. Before, Panties was punished for willful m*nly acts as well as for “just being a transvestite.” Panties still hears the echo of Miss D’s words: “If, you’re a good girl, you won’t be spanked.” She prefers the pink flogger. She knotted the tops of the leather strips and tested it on her palm. She didn’t say, “get in your favorite position,” or “lift your skirt,” and she didn’t offer Panties the comfort of hugging one of her Barbies Still, to be on her knees, bent over, waiting, was significant enough. Miss D asked Panties to speak why she was being punished. “For my willful squirt.” The leather mane came down, barely brushing Panties’ bottom. “For taking a trip without permission.” Another light stroke. Panties’ involuntary cry was more surprise than pain. Like Miss B, Miss D, for some reason, very much liked the sound. She had Panties repeat the noise, louder and louder. “For doubting you.” Panties feared a long, hard lashing, but again it was a gentle slap of leather. And that was it. Panties stood up, and after serving Miss D a meal of roasted yams and leeks with melted organic cheese on top, washed the dishes and began dressing for their night out. Two girls going to a show.

First Kiss

 

Today Panties’ training shifted to a new level. Panties has always dreamed of kissing Miss D whose shapely, soft lips with her straight white teeth and flash of tongue, shape the clear words she speaks. Panties barely dared allow herself to imagine the act of her lips anywhere close to Miss D’s, anywhere near her long neck, pretty ear or hair. Even as her hopes, very forbidden, dwindled, Panties was aware how Miss D could be capricious and very capable of the unexpected. Dressed in her maid’s outfit, Panties was surprised when she was told to take out a sexy black pair of Miss D’s panties and a bra, which she took into the bathroom. Panties was equally surprised when she came out wearing just the bra and panties, and without any self-consciousness, took one of the two new dresses off the hanger. Panties had been taught never to think of Miss D in the manner of an expectant lover, but even lowering her eyes modestly, Panties could not help but be overwhelmed by the electric attractiveness of this slender girl, parading in her bra and panties, slipping on and off her dresses. Panties, on her knees, dutifully tied on the dresses, brushing a bit of thigh or hip or back through the fabric, adjusting the drape and fit of both dresses, as the reality of her relation to Miss D settled in. Panties was not allowed to help Miss D in and out of her clothing except as a lowly maid. Miss D smiled at herself in the mirror, pleased with the dress which some lucky man would get to touch, stroke and help her out of so much more meaningfully. Meanwhile, Panties was allowed to curtsy after which she dropped to her knees and kissed, Miss D’s foot.

My Career

 

Panties was told to put together a professional outfit: a women's suit, (not a pants suit) which she would wear whenever doing Miss D’s secretarial work. Miss D once worked as a secretary where she hated having to wear pantihose everyday and where she was expected to be a pretty thing with no opinions. She has modeled Panties' career on her distasteful memories, including the pantihose and disregard of opinions. She added the kind of pantihose with a line down the back and a bow which ties at the neck. Panties was told to clear a shelf specifically for Miss D’s work and to set up files in anticipation of the tasks to come.

Panties was told to buy several expensive books for Miss D. Two were filled with just addresses which would go with more than one database Miss D needs for her career. When Panties received the following email, she wondered (politely) what kind of secretary, unpaid, is expected to pay for all secretarial supplies (including toner for Miss D’s laser printer), postage, as well as books. Miss D replied with the second message.

Dear Panties,

This excel spreadsheet should be a separate database for you to keep
in addition to other databases you'll be making. This is to be a
model for your other databases. You are only to act on my behalf
with my express permission.

D

Panties,

Quit bitching about your oh so difficult life. Instead, put on
make-up; wrap my books in airtight plastic; fill the tub with warm
water and bubbles; and take a long loving bath with my books. Let the
pretentiousness and manly desires dissipate and dissolve. Think of
how much you loved kissing my boxes, and how much of an alpha m*le
you felt like you were when you posted that blog about kissing the
boxes and your manly hopes goodbye. A sissy should always struggle.
Just do your job. And never sign your name as P. You are Panties.

D

Miss D

 

She has a cold again, sniffling, her voice a sexy rasp. She’s been around kids and figures she’s picking up their various contagions. Still, she was in a bright mood, her voice reaching for high notes to make music of the most mundane chatter. You would love her laugh, which is better than music. Once in a while, when she is amused, she punctuates her words with a liquidy sound that transports you to spring meadows.

Secretary

 

Early in the training Miss D ordered Panties to handle a significant mailing of seven boxes, several heavier than what most girls could carry alone. If you’ve noticed how pretty girls can sometimes be deficient in conscience and ideals, Miss D is the lovely exception. She is one of the gentlest, kindest girls, which makes Panties even more grateful, that it is her, rather than any of a number of comparatively oblivious, unpleasant women holding the leash. As Miss D said, “if you’re going to be used, it might as well be by me.” It’s true, she is extremely honest and someone you trust. Which doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a dangerous, capricious and brilliant streak somewhere inside. So when Panties complained about the time and expense of the mailing, Miss D was sincerely polite and apologetic. Then Panties received a string of text messages instructing her to consider how she should be grateful for the assignment and that she should apologize not only to Miss D, but to her boxes. “Get dressed and get on your knees, and tell the boxes how much you love them,” she wrote. Then in an email: “I will be very happy if there are lipstick kisses all over my boxes. And if you take great care in wrapping the xxx with pretty paper. You might want to write my xxx a poem about how glad she is so heavy and how jealous you are over her for being a precious object of mine that will advance my career. You will meet me "dressed". And you will go to the post-office "dressed" and learn to be very happy and grateful for this. You are my secretary.” Panties dressed in her secretary’s outfit, put on lipstick and knelt down by Miss B’s boxes and kissed them lovingly, whispering how she loved them just because they belonged to Miss B. Panties was surprised how her resentment had vanished, replaced with a deep respect and love for her trainer. When she received the photograph, evidence of Panties’ having obeyed her, she said she smiled and smiled with “immense satisfaction.”

3 Dresses

 


Panties received an e-mail from Miss D dispatching her to her favorite boutique: “You are to choose beautiful dresses, tops, and skirts for both of us to wear to the shows– and for you to wear for your secretarial and errand girl activities.” Of course some of the most important numbers in Panties’ head have to do with Miss D's clothing sizes. She has already bought panties and bras and by now knows her every skirt, dress, top and skirt sizes. Panties spent an afternoon shopping for two dresses for Miss D. They are to hang in Panties closet to remind Panties whose place it is. Panties also shopped for a red dress for herself, to match the pink purse Miss D bought a purple dress for herself. The pretty salesgirl’s big eyes became even wider. Later Panties received this from Miss D: “I'm soooo thrilled you tried on the dresses, and bought yourself a dress.”

A Celebration

 


Miss D has led Panties to the next level of secretarial training. Facing some worrisome billings and communications almost as alarming as an IRS edict, she simply passed it on to Panties, who immediately, took care of the problem without resentment, or at the very worst, just the smallest “regret” at having to spend so much of her time on these matters. (Panties immediately felt guilt over these thoughts, but was struck at how dwindling they were.) She wrote a check as well as a letter to the officials apologizing on behalf of Miss D, explaining that the problem was entirely due to secretarial incompetence and not any fault of Miss D. (This later amused Miss D audibly.) On the last day of her period, Panties received from Miss D an email regarding another task: “You have 2 weeks for this deadline. You have one more day of your menstrual cycle. Wash well.” It is Miss D’s casual, intelligent, lightly sardonic flourishes which deepen Panties devotion to her trainer. While shaving her legs and underarms in the shower, Panties felt obligated to lather and rinse the way a woman might after the end of a particularly messy menstruation. Although she can be as dangerous as Miss B, Miss D has her own elegant style, and a lighter touch. She was on the phone with Panties two days ago about some recent small non-sissy accomplishment. The non-sissy accomplishment, while not in direct opposition to proper training purposes, nevertheless allows a blush of m*nly pride which Miss B might have “celebrated,” by having Panties drink a liter of water while wearing incontinence panties. Miss D cheerfully directed Panties to toast herself with a glass of wine or grape juice. Then she added: “You are not to use a wine glass... That’s something I would use (to celebrate). (You are to) ..use a coffee cup and sit on the floor.”

What Panties Wore on a Date

 

Miss D reprimanded Panties slip regarding the first-person pronoun which Panties apologizes for. Panties has learned to apologize humbly to her satisfaction. Panties also confessed to serial unauthorized squirts behind a small amount of m*nly rudeness. Miss D in her gentle, but firm way has put Panties back on track with an extended menstruation. As further punishment, Panties wore a tampon and an extra messy amount of strawberry stickiness in Panties’ sanitary napkin. She has to get her eyebrows done and the sum of these will appease Miss D.

Diaper Training

Something Miss D said to Panties a few days ago.

"Panties, I changed a baby boy's diaper today and thought of you. He had a thumb sized appendage just under his navel; and just under that appendage was something that looked
like a skin-colored prune or a hand full of almonds. I imagine that's what you look like under your panties. Won't it be nice when you turn into a real lady and you are allowed to sprout hair to cover your embarrassing wenis...which I pronounce the German way--Venis?"

When Panties menstruates it feels like wearing a diaper. Panties wishes Miss D would let her wear a tampon like she wears. But she doesn't think Panties is grown up enough for tampons yet. She thinks tampons will make Panties think of sex. She doesn't want Panties to experience any firmness on or in my body. Panties must repeat: Panties does not have a penis; Panties has a wenis. Panties is not an m.a.n.; Panties is a sissy. Panties does not have opinions; Panties is a sissy. Panties must do what Miss D says; Panties am a Sissy.

Moon Cycle

A note from Miss D on Sept 1, 2009

Panties, you must prepare for menstruation today; I changed my mind.
Instead of switching you to menstruate with the new moon; you are to
continue menstruating the 1st through the 7th of every month. However,
you will have breakthrough bleeding on the new moon day of the 18th this
month.

Panties, tonight you are to take a shower--singing in a very high voice,
a song fit for a teenage girl. And after your shower you will
dress in panties and your menstruation equipment including jelly spread on a
feminine napkin and in your thighs. Then you are to put
on a towel as a turban on your head. You will dress in a girls nighty
or just sleep in your bra and panties or tank top and panties. You
may remove the turban after dressing. Then you are to climb in bed
and think of your barbies, your lipstick, and your devotion to me and the assistant
trainer I have chosen.

Miss D