Allison is beautiful, smart, and blessed by good fortune. Drawing many a hungry eye, she's used to men chasing after her.
However, she's never been faced with the obsession of someone so far gone, they've tumbled into the shadows.
An innocent shipment of panties, ordered on a whim, soon becomes the very thing trapping her in her own lust. What are Pet Panties, and how is it possible for a simple silky garment to make her orgasm in public, and who could be pulling the strings behind the curtains?
A steamy 7.4k word tale of exhibition, humiliation and sexual revenge, where one girl learns her own desire can sometimes be her own prison.
WARNING, THIS STORY IS FOR ADULTS ONLY AND CONTAINS GRAPHIC SCENES OF A SEXUAL NATURE
She felt extremely warm, her cheeks flushing in blooms of red, and there was a damp coating of sweat between her shoulder blades.
At first, she assumed it was from the run. As time progressed, though, the young woman became acutely aware of the heat seeming to flow down, coiling oddly in her belly. Allison touched her stomach, frowning and hoping she wasn't getting sick.
“Are you feeling alright?”
The voice made her jerk her head up, blinking as she spotted a young man, her age it seemed, standing nearby in the train car. He looked familiar, with his scrawny figure and slightly sideways smile. His brown hair was mussed, and she thought he looked like he hadn't been sleeping. It tugged at her mind, like an itch that needed to be scratched, that she definitely knew him from somewhere. 'Maybe in one of my classes?'
“Um, I'm fine.” She waved a hand, giving a weak laugh. It was cut short, turning into a mild frown as the flickering warmth seemed to make her muscles tense, and to her surprise, the spike was not one of discomfort, but a tingle of arousal. This was far beyond confusing, it made her skin cold with the out of sorts way her body was reacting.
Lowering her hands, she tugged self consciously at her skirt, the path of her sudden desire seeming to boil straight towards her nethers. It was then, in that moment, that the blonde was sure something was happening between her thighs. The panties, cupping so tightly to her, seemed to be somehow growing even smaller. She didn't know how else to explain it, her mind was running laps, trying to rationalize how the cloth gripping her skin was somehow becoming even more intimately acquainted.
“You're sure you're fine?”
His tone was concerned, and she lifted her head from where she had been staring down at her fingers balled tightly in her skirt. The window beside the boy's head caught her gaze, and she could see herself, wide blue eyes and red cheeks. Her lips seemed slightly swollen, puckered in her shock and growing lust. 'What is wrong with me?'
“Yes, yes, I mean, I'm fine. Really, really fine!” Her voice cracked, and she was stunned at how she felt so awkward, the eyes of the young man, a piercing if plain hazel, were watching her with intense interest. It made her aware of her body, of how she was dressed, of the way she was half bent over with shaking thighs; The cleavage he had to be seeing must have been deep with that angle.
Heaving a sharp breath, the girl was positive the panties were squeezing her now, like they were massaging her sensitive bits and clinging to her slit, which was growing wetter by the second. 'This is bad, at this rate, I'm going to...' She couldn't even think of it, no, the very idea of coming on that crowded train was too much. She felt the fear should have sobered her up, but her heart seemed to pulse quicker, and when she squeezed her thighs, she could feel the squish of her juices. She worried they'd slide down her legs, in plain view with her short skirt.
Out of the blue, she was unprepared for the stranger to step forward in the train, his palms clasping her shoulders in concern. “Hey, look, you really seem like you're sick or something. Maybe we should get you off at the next stop?”
About Fiora Greene
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Published January 1, 2013
Erotica, Literature & Fiction.