© Copyright 2015 - Jackie Rabbit - Used by permission
Storycodes: FM; F/m; panties; caught; photo; tease; submission; femdom; denial; mast; climax; cons; X
(A short intro, please let me know if this is something I should continue.)
It started out innocently enough, I simply putting some of my underthings away in my husbands drawer by mistake when some of my things stuck to his. I had teased him about potentially looking good in something like a thong, to which he responded in likely fashion, and rather hypocritically since he liked the way such things looked on me. They weren't truthfully my favorites either, but I wore them for him once in a while to tease him up. The misplaced underthings in question were not truly a thong in the traditional sense either, but quite brief and intrusive, and not worn in some time as they were thought lost in our apartment's laundry machines.
We were nearly newlyweds at the time, living in our first place together, and like most of our friends in similar circumstances, struggling to get used to living with each other. The sex was wonderfully passionate, and frequent, but sometimes we argued about the most outlandish things just as passionately, and just having one such stupid argument I was in bed trying to calm down while he was in the shower likely doing the same. We were of the same apparent personality, dominate leaders, hence our clashes as like minded people rarely click in the long term.
My husband came out and fished in his drawer without really looking trying not to disturb me, (that in it's own way a signal to me of his impending surrender), stepping into my misplaced black panties and nearly getting it all the way up before he realized something wasn't quite right in the dim light. I turned the bed side light on then and nearly choked I laughed so hard, as did he when he saw what he was unintentionally trying to do.
With our argument instantly forgotten I jokingly suggested that this at least settled the argument of who was to wear the pants in our new family, (at least for now), I then telling him he looked good in them much the same way he did for me.
"Pull them all the way up" I commanded, testing the new power I wished to wield over him. Our apartments didn't allow pets, but I thought a pet husband could be an acceptable alternative, if trainable.
I was joking, but as incredible as it seemed he did as I commanded, I feeling the power I suddenly had to control him. They weren't designed for him, or for any man, the little rear strap going deep and the tiny triangle of cloth in front not able to contain his growing manhood. He was raging hard for me by the time he got himself situated, he obviously very excited to either be wearing my panties, or possibly to be under my temporary control.
Seizing the moment, (how often does one get an opportunity like this?), I told him he was officially wearing the black panties of submission, and I was in charge. This did nothing to dampen his spirit, and he looked about to pop off right in front of me without the slightest touch, a good half of him not contained behind that tiny triangle of thin cloth. To capture the moment I snapped off a picture with my phone, he doing nothing to stop me in an unusual display of passive acceptance, he even pirouetting for me so I could snap several more when I rotated my finger in the air. His hairy body and legs spoiled the look, but there was a simple solution for that.
I pointed at his side of the bed and he silently got in, and he put his hands behind his back as if they were pinned there when I told him not to touch. I rolled on my side and just touched him there with my finger, and he spasmed several times as I had never seen him do before. I knew men well enough to know he would do almost anything to be allowed to pop off, and this the opportunity of a lifetime to see what I could get him to agree to with my temporary power over him.
"Here's the way of it dear, I think I might like wearing the proverbial pants once in a while, and I think you might like wearing the panties of submission once in a while as well, certainly they fit you." My husband didn't get my intended humor at the time, I meaning "fitting for you" instead of fitting his male proportions, which they clearly weren't designed to do even if he weren't aroused.
He was nodding his head emphatically, his man hardware bobbing as well and looking painful it was so hard, looking like I had wrapped a tourniquet about it's base. It's veins were bulging under the surface of it's thin skin, and I became concerned he might damage himself if he didn't deflate soon and return normal blood flow to the area. Still he didn't touch himself, proving to me his ability to be trained, or his latent desire to be controlled by another despite his history of man posturing with me suggesting dominant traits that now were in question.
"Since tomorrow is Saturday, you will wear those the entire day, and I will go out shopping for some things while you clean this place top to bottom, including the dishes and wash. If you clean this place to my standards I will give you a nice surprise, if not, a not so nice one. In exchange for promising to do the housework tomorrow I am willing to allow you to cum now, but only if you promise to do whatever I say afterwards."
He nodded his head again far too easily, and I knew right then that I could have demanded so much more, but with my pictures and his open ended promise I knew I owned him already. "Whatever I say afterwards" after all implied until the end of time.
My girlfriends had warned me about the difference between pre orgasm, and post orgasm man promises, the former usually completely forgotten as soon as the deed was done. I intended to never allow that precedent with him in the first place, his word would be his word, no matter when it was given. To his credit he had never tried to wiggle out of any agreements with me before, but this was a bold new territory for both of us, and never had I had this kind of leverage over him.
Satisfied with his nonverbal commitment to me I laid my bare leg over his hairy one and nuzzled his new panties from the bottom with my knee, then I set about tapping him again in torment with just my index finger as he twitched in rhythm with my touches. He looked as if he were having a seizure as his hips made little thrusting motions seconds later, I never seeing such an intense response from him as he erupted without a single stroke. His mess went from his pillow to his belly before the squirts eventually stopped and he deflated, they only missing his red face because he turned his head at the last instant in combination with the fact that his man hardware wasn't trapped in perfect symmetry behind his new panties. What a power to have over a man I thought to myself, knowing he would do anything just to get more of the same, proverbial ruined orgasm or not.
He was still panting and coming down when I scooped up some of what had landed on his pillow with the same finger that just brought him off, we looking into each other's eyes, but I was smiling. He looked afraid and slightly ashamed, but didn't flinch when I pressed my messy finger to his now shut lips, he then snorting through his nose comically with his lips clamped shut, no doubt smelling his mess with every breath. We stared each other down until he nibbled at my finger in submission, he then taking my digit into his mouth and sucking it clean without being asked. It was highly erotic, if not taboo, and to drive the point home I fed him all of the seed I could scoop up on my finger, he submitting to me fully by lapping up every sticky drop despite his post orgasmic low.
That taboo first step with him was far easier than I thought it would be, and I knew if I played this new game right we could both have a lot of fun with his new found submission. I at least knew I could, he having the potential to be like my obedient pet husband when I felt the desire to get my way, or when he felt the desire to let me. Certainly I would have some more help around the apartment now, and for me that was a good start.
Anything meant any thing, (actually I had said "whatever I say", but neither of us were lawyers), and cleaning our little apartment shouldn't be a problem for a submissive man with a commitment, certainly one who just had demonstrated his ability to clean up his own little mess while laying next to me. That was a precedent of it's own, and I already had plans of how I might use this little new skill he seemed not to mind at all.
"Sweetheart, your panties will need to be hand washed in the morning, along with my other delicates, and obviously the sheets will have to be changed and laundered as well."
With that said I rolled over on my clean side of the bed and went to sleep, dreaming of what a sometimes submissive man could be made to do to get another like the orgasm I just saw. I obviously never hand washed my delicates, if I had this little opportunity would never had come to be, but I had a feeling the black panties of submission might help provide that service for me in the future, as well as a great many others. I knew then that I had some homework to do, not about husbands, but about the finer points of training a pet. I already had a husband, and now I wanted a pet husband to replace him with. Men are wonderful, and useful, but pets are obedient, certainly if well trained...
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story continues in The Black Panties Of Submission 2