See those panties he’s wearing? Ivory with lace, just barely enough material to conceal his cock, high-cut to flatter his thighs and stomach. I chose those panties for him. He wore them for me. It was one of Our Things.
He’d bought them, as directed. It was a fun task – he took me along by text and photos, each pair approved by Miss. If I recall correctly he feigned shopping for someone else, nervous smiles as the shop girl rung them up, no doubt aroused by the thrill of a secret purchase. He’d wear them every Monday – “Manties” Monday – I’d choose the panties of the week and he’d dutifully wear them, often sodden with his own pleasure, having wanked furiously for me, at my demand, before he left for work. I’d taunt him and tease him, my wet, messy cumslut. Filthy Boy in lacy knickers, sitting in his own cum on the train into London. What would the other morning commuters think if they knew? His squirming and obedient discomfort always pleased me. We joked that we should move Manties Monday to Thirsty Thursday because when he leaked panty pics the Ladies of Twitter (you know who you are!) would get so … twitterpated. Seems I’m not the only gal in town who appreciates the lacy look.
I love a man in panties. It’s not feminization or sissification that does it for me. It’s the contrast of a strong, clearly cis male body decorated with the smallest scraps of delicate lace. Men in lingerie are so hot to me, not because it creates an illusion of femininity, but because the contrast highlights their masculinity. From a FemDom perspective it’s extra sexy if panties are a bit humiliating, a dirty secret you can make them keep. In the case of these particular panties shown here, on this particular submissive man, there was no humiliation. He was always proud to wear them for me. Proud to follow my instructions and meet my needs, to the letter and that was hotter than anything. I see this picture and I immediately, think “Oh, my naughty, naughty Boy.”
But he’s not mine. Not anymore.