All comments and criticism welcome.
My Boss, My Master:
Losing it
I kept up my office routine, even though I knew Mr. Compton was out of town and might not be back for the rest of the week.
Each morning, I would stop in the lobby restroom, change into a pair of panties and then head to my office. I quickly found that I liked the feel of women's underwear against my skin. But with only three pairs to choose from, I knew I would soon be bored with what I had.
I took a long lunch on Wednesday and drove out to a mall on the opposite end of town from my home, in hopes that I would not run into anyone I knew.
I headed straight for the lingerie store, my heart thumping in my chest. I had only been browsing a few moments when the clerk approached, offering help. I managed to get out a halfway believable lie, telling her I was looking for a gift for my wife.
She showed me a few things, and didn't bat an eye when I "guessed" my wife would wear a large.
I quickly picked up a black lace thong, a red g-string that I hoped would cover my man clit and little else, a red stretch lace boyshort that looked very similar to ones my wife liked to wear, and a pair of black mesh bikinis.
I was ready to check out when a white lace thong caught my eye. I had to add add it to my stash.
I paid and got out of there, stopping in the men's room to change. The red g-string was theft most daring, and I wanted to feel the microfiber on my manhood and the tiny string in my crack.
They were snug, but not too uncomfortable. As I left the mall, I could feel the back string rubbing against my rosebud. By the time I got to my car, my cock was stiff and pushing against my panties. I squeezed myself through my pants on the drive back to the office, but I refrained from jerking off after I got back.
I tried to concentrate on work that afternoon, but every time I shifted in my chair, I could feel the g-string against my skin. I was just about to give in and lock myself in the bathroom for a quick jerk, when my office phone range.
It was Mr. Compton.
"Are you wearing your panties, Mitchell?" he asked.
I assured him I was and I told him of my lunchtime shopping trip. He seemed pleased.
"Are you wearing your new panties?" he asked.
When I told him I was, Mr. Compton wanted to see. He gave me an email address, instructed me to take a photo of myself and send it along immediately.
I happened to keep an inexpensive digital camera in my office, so I shut my door, quickly undressed, and tried to snap a photo that would please him. I tried a few poses, before settling on the one I liked best.
Sitting in my chair, I put my feet on the desk and held the camera between my legs. With my knees spread wide, I was able to get a shot that showed off my panties best.
But when I looked at it, something was missing. My dick had gone soft while I worked to get the best shot. I stroked myself to erection and took another snap. It was much better. My stiff little man clit stretched the panties, making them look even better.
I created a new yahoo account for myself and fired off the photo to Mr. Compton as instructed. But even as I did, my erection would not go away. I couldn't wait any longer.
I put my feet back on my desk and reached into my panties, gripping my cock.
As I stroked it, I thought of Mr. Compton taking my cherry. I let my other hand rub the thin string that runs along the crack of my ass. When my fingers brush against my rosebud, I shuddered and stifled a moan.
It didn't take long and I filled my panties with cum, the white goo running down my shaft and matting to the landing strip I wear at my boss' command.
I grabbed the camera and took a few more shots, including one in which I pulled the g-string down far enough that my softening cock and the mess I'd made on myself were clearly visible.
I dressed after that, knowing that someone could knock and open my office door at any moment, exposing me to certain ridicule.
My phone rang again.
"You enjoy wearing your panties, don't you, Mitchell? They make you feel slutty, don't they?" Mr. Compton asked. "Is that why your little clit was sticking out?"
I admitted that I enjoyed my panties and confessed that I had touched myself after taking the photos.
"You are a dirty little slut, Mitchell," he said. "Isn't that what got you in trouble in the first place?"
He paused, but I didn't answer. We both knew the answer.
"Did you come?" he asked. "Are your little panties soiled?"
When I admitted that they were, his tone of voice became stern.
"Send me a photo. Now."
I did as instructed. A few seconds later, I could hear a chime in the background. I could hear his breath catch in his throat. I knew I had pleased him.
"That will be all, Mitchell," he said before the line went dead.
* * *
The next afternoon, I was working on a long, boring boilerplate brief in a land dispute case. A courier appeared at my door, dropped a package and was on his way.
I was so engrossed in my work that I didn't even look to see who it was from, let alone open it.
It was a couple of hours later before I examined the small box. While the recipient label was complete with my name and address, the sender's label simply read GC.
It had to be from Mr. Compton.
I tore open the box. Inside I found a white garter and stocking set and a note, which read "Virgins look best in white."
As I fondled the material, my office phone rang.
"I hope you like your gift," Mr. Compton said. "I will see you at 5 p.m. Friday at the Four Seasons downtown. The desk clerk will be expecting you."
When I got home, Amber wasn't thrilled to hear I'd be late getting home, especially on a Friday. At least until she learned that I was working late with the managing partner. Every lawyer's wife knows that the key to moving up the corporate ladder is getting noticed by the boss.
