Saturday, 1 October 2011


Panties look best around the ankles. His words, a simple statement that she knew was really a command, echoed in her mind as she hooked her thumbs into the elastic waistband of her translucent black thong. The lace tickled her skin as she pulled her panties down, and then got on her knees.

He bent over and pulled the panties to her ankles as a makeshift restraint. Now, she couldn’t move her legs more than a few inches apart without the thong straining against her, pulling her ankles closer together again. He gave her ass a quick slap, just for good measure, and then straightened up, starting to unbuckle his belt.

She licked her lips and opened her mouth for him, giving him full access. He nodded approvingly, and pushed his throbbing cock into her throat, starting to thrust in and out. He did so love face-fucking his little whore.

Her hand drifted down to her clit, pleasantly exposed now her panties were in their proper place. Her thumb started to casually strum the nub of nerve-endings, that little centre of desire that throbbed in time with her now-rapid heartbeat. She whimpered a little around the cock in her mouth, the squelching in her throat almost deafening in her ears. He looked down, sighing in pleasure, and noticed her hand.

“Naughty slut. I didn’t say you could touch yourself. Move your hand” he ordered. She did as she was told.

Then, lifting his shoe, he pressed the toe to her pussy, starting to rub her clit and labia with the polished leather of his expensive loafer. She moaned again, her eyes closing in pleasure, and concentrated on her pussy, on the feelings in her clit, on the feeling of her juices leaking onto his foot, and on the throbbing emptiness in her cunt.

He seemed to sense it too, and pulled away from her throat.

“Bend over the desk.”

She stood up, following his finger to the large mahogony desk in his office. Shuffling over to the desk, she bent over, and looked back at him. His cock throbbed as he gripped the base, the veins pulsing as he approached, lining himself up with her cunt. She felt the lace tickle her ankles again as she spread her legs as wide as she could. She felt like such a whore. And she loved it. She waited for him to thrust, to banish that aching, tingling sense of emptiness in her abdomen. But as she waited, part of her couldn’t stop thinking about her panties.

Panties don’t just look best around the ankles; they’re more useful there too.

That’s where they should stay.

-Inspired by the Decadent Lifestyle picture, Thank you for the link, and thank you to all of my new Decadent friends for reading. If you like what you see, then check out the rest of the site - Thanks!

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