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The Black Panties Of Submission 2

by Jackie Rabbit

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© Copyright 2015 - Jackie Rabbit - Used by permission

Storycodes: F/m; panties; femdom; submission; pet; tease; denial; mast; sex; climax; oral; creampie; cons; X

(story continues from )

continued from part one

Part Two

Needless to say I went out the next morning and bought some books to read up on pets, and to do some other shopping. I came home in the early afternoon to a clean apartment, and a committed pet husband still wearing my, or should I say his black panties. I was just a little crossed with him for hiding his domestic skills from me previously, but how can one stay angry when your pet has done exactly what you have told him to do?

I could have picked apart his efforts easily enough, some dust behind a picture frame and the like, but it would be foolish to do so unless I wanted that job back again. The sheets were cleaned and changed and the bed not a complete mess, my delicates apparently hand washed as I had asked and hanging to dry over the shower rod, and lunch waiting for me. I had to ask how he managed to do the laundry, and here he confessed that he put on some shorts and a sweatshirt over his under things before trekking down to the laundry machines.

I was fine with that as I hadn't pondered making this little game anything but private between us, and in keeping with that theme I noticed that the shades were closed throughout the apartment so that the more nosy neighbors across the way couldn't see him in his nearly naked labors. So far so good on our game, and I at least wanted to play again, the question was would he.

There was something about the way he said the word "panties" now as well, it was different and naughty sounding to me, telling me they were different to him. There appeared to be a linkage in his mind between the taboo feminine garment that he was now required to wear, and his new helpful service to me around the house. I had intended as much, but I was surprised at how easy it was to pull off. His new panties would be his uniform of service to me, hidden under his man clothes at times for us alone to know about out of necessity, but the dominate thrill I felt was impossible to suppress.

Reward good behavior, punish bad, and always let your pup know that you love them. It was good pet advice, and good husband advice as well I thought somewhat cynically. There would be time to hone my pet's domestic skills in the future, and I realized this was a form of the teach a man to fish parable, and the thought seemed profound to me. "Clean your apartment yourself and it will be clean for a day, teach your pet man to do it for you and you will never have to touch the vacuum again." I was willing to invest the time to train him as I was in this for the long term, a pet after all was a lifetime commitment. On that score some of our friends from school were already having problems with their own marriages, and I didn't want to go there no matter how green the grass appeared on the other side of the proverbial fence.

It made little sense to me now to keep searching for the perfect man after ones marriage, I realizing my concept of perfect would likely change several more times in my lifetime anyway. When I was a teenager my idea of the perfect boy was one with a car and no acne, and later on I obviously wanted other things. As mature as I thought I was I had just added one more quality to my ever expanding list, possibly the most important one it seemed. I wanted a man who was trainable, a lump of clay that I could form as necessary to suit my changing needs and desires. Those desires would no doubt change over time, but even if my one day old dog could be taught some new tricks he could still be useful to me. There could be no wandering out of my proverbial yard this way either, but one doesn't have to worry about such if their pet is well trained, their yard's fence hardly necessary other than a subtle reminder of to whom they belong...

Being fully and properly dressed and one hundred percent in charge while being humbly served by a nearly naked man is rather empowering as well for those who haven't tried it themselves, and as my hardly dressed man served me the lunch he had made for us I pondered his reward, and my own. He was at that moment very flaccid and somehow fitting into his rather tiny underthings though, it looked rather uncomfortable to me all things considered, and I wondered if he was still "up" for this little game of ours and just needing some positive reinforcement.

"Honey, that was a wonderful lunch, and while your cleaning up I am going to jump into the shower, and when your done why don't you do the same and meet me in bed as I have a surprise for you." It was another command from me, but a gentle one that most men would find easy to follow, their potential reward all but clearly stated. I knew I needed to teach him obedience and simple tricks before I worked up to the more complex ones, he learning with every new trick to further trust me, almost as if a learned reflex action. Eventually following my commands would come naturally, his reward not even necessary, like Pavlov's dog drooling at the bell.

"Is it a good surprise?" he asked, and I could tell from his tone that he wasn't sure if he had met the requirements of our little bargain the night before.

"I guess your just going to have to find that out, aren't you?" I asked in my best come hither tone.

I then thought to myself as I walked away that this was just wonderful, he had just done more for me around the house in the last few hours than he ever had, and still he realized that there was room for improvement...

I took my shower and left behind his first surprise, they were brand new and black satin, but these had a pink little bow on the front where his other panties were plain. I bought them for him while I was out, as well as several others, but one size larger than mine as a trial. They were on the bargain table and the sales girl commented on how nice they were, and by that she meant sexy, but nice was a more acceptable way to say it at the time. I thought to myself at the time, "if you only knew who was going to be wearing them!"

I sat up in bed and read my pet training book while waiting for my pet husband, skipping over the house breaking chapter completely, thank heavens for that. The next section was crate training, and I skimmed through that, but did so with a smile on my face with the possibilities while wondering if they made them big enough for a man sized pet.

I put my book down when he came in, (freshly showered and smiling while wearing his present), realizing that having him under my command was turning me on like mad, especially since I had made the sacrifice of going without the night before. At that moment though I realized it was likely more of an investment in my future rather that any sacrifice.

Once again he wasn't fitting behind his panties, and I imagined Pavlov's bell ringing somewhere in the background as I smiled. These were a true string thong in every sense of the word and made from slick satin, and they looked good on him if not slightly fragile for the job. I knew if his legs were shaved smooth they would look perfect, but I wanted to go easy with this so my pet didn't revolt. I intended a long period of ownership, and remolding this man pet of mine into my version of perfection seemed like it could be a labor of love, or at the very least entertaining.

I patted the bed next to me and told him to lie down as if to a dog, he doing so without hesitation while missing the nuance of my command completely. It was obvious that he wasn't thinking, only reacting, or possibly just thinking with a different part of his anatomy.

"Last night was all about you, this afternoon is all about me. No touching or else!" I warned with a wagging finger.

I peeled off the night shirt I had thrown on, the scene different to me from last night though because the sun was shinning brightly through the closed blinds. What last night had been discreet and in the near darkness was today raw and out in the open. We had made love several times in the middle of the day before, but this was different, I was in charge both by my desire, and by his willing and unconditional surrender to my leadership.

"Grab those two bars, and don't you dare let go!" I commanded as I pointed where I wanted him to hold on to our headboard.

"Yes ma'am," he answered, and with not a hint of sarcasm either.

My husband worked in customer service and every phone call was answered the same way with a ma'am or a sir, it was good southern respect, but also his company's policy, and possibly about to become mine as well even though pets aren't expected to speak in traditional ways. I thought to myself if they did speak though, it would most certainly be respectfully...

There was no need for any foreplay on my part, and in rare fashion I mounted up on him as I was way more than ready, having short changed myself the night before. I shivered once in a little orgasm before he was even fully inside of me, confirming for myself that this was what I needed as this was a first for me. My pets face was scrunched up in concentration, he knowing without being told not to dare pop off until I was done with him. I could have several orgasms before exhaustion overtook me if everything worked out perfectly, (it almost never did), but he a single one under most circumstances, a true once and done man in every sense of the word.

When I got control of myself I bottomed out on him slowly while savoring the moment, I having little experience being on top other than the few seconds it usually took in the past for him to toss me off and to the bed like a barbarian. Those times were wonderful, but I was in charge now, and I was setting the pace. The satin of his panties felt unique under me, and I tried riding him gently with my next orgasm building with every movement.

This next orgasm was epic, and when it happened I rode him quite roughly and without the slightest regard for his own pleasure, our bodies slapping together noisily as he helped to the extent that he could with his own hips. It was just too much for him, my impassioned gasps as I molested my own breasts in his hands absence probably not helping him to keep control either, he erupting with me in a rare mutual orgasm.

He looked up at me sheepishly when he caught his breath, either because he knew I wanted more, or because he had no choice but to with me in the power position on top. It was empowering for me, but truth be told I also bore a certain responsibility for his rather short ride then, and had I managed to keep control and do things differently he may have lasted longer. I then rocked my hips slightly to see if he had any more left for another ride, but he was done for the day between last night and our rather passionate but short "nooner".

There was an ulterior motive for my position, and I WAS a complete mess thanks to my pet husband's efforts. He had proven his abilities to clean up his mess just the night before, but going down on me was not his favorite thing to do even before sex, and never had he done so afterwards. I rarely did the same for him so I had no quarter to complain, but I was on top now and thought to see how far I could take things.

I gave him that certain look, it was the come hither look when I wanted him but didn't want to ask. In any event he looked back as if he knew what I was thinking, and I felt my smile grow of it's own accord. I inched forward and felt his deflated self flop free, and despite my warning him not to move his hands he reached under my thighs and pulled me toward him.

My girlfriends called this a cream pie, something their husbands and boyfriends offered to do, but to a man they chickened out after their own orgasms deflated their courage. I knew there was more to it than that, just like with pre and post orgasm man promises. Is seems like whatever happens to a man right after the event, (some call it a post orgasm low), it ordinarily ruins their motivation for such things, as well as a great many others.

My pet husband however was on course to break still another paradigm, and I was more than willing to let him! He pulled me up by my thighs and I grabbed the headboard, he not hesitating for an instant as he attacked me like a man starving. It was just wonderful, and he kept at me until I was not only clean enough to sleep, but orgasmed out with too many to count and fit only to sleep. I was sore as well from his efforts, but who could possibly complain, I napping for hours without my ordinary post sex shower that always woke me.

That concluded my first weekend with my new pet husband, and I couldn't imagine ever living without one again...

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