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The Wrong Panties
YES! Interested in the next tantalizing chapter - perhaps like the book of the month club - a chapter of the month issued (revealed).
But frankly I am not interested in paying for books by subscription over the internet.
Yes (some) of the authors are worth getting compensation for their work but I have questions about paying for content on a free forum.
Don't worry - The whole book can be bought on Amazon, all 19 chapters of it. It's not a short story, it's a full-length novel and I reckon it's far better value than the short stories you can buy which may cost half the price but are only a tenth of the length, if that! Well, I would say that, wouldn't I!?

What I'm sharing here is totally free but I can't share it all because Amazon wouldn't let me without reducing the price there to zero and, of course, I don't want to do that because I put a lot of work into writing it and I think I deserve a small reward for my efforts.

Chapter 3

My 'Little Lie Detector'

     “Your little lie detector seems to be available and definitely in full working order, so let's make good use of it, shall we?”

Well that sounded promising. After two weeks of total denial, that certain part of me was dying to be made good use of and at that moment was very emphatically showing how it felt about the idea!

     “Down, Tiger! That's not on the menu at the moment.”

     Curses: foiled again. My tormentress crossed to her bedside cabinet and took out of the drawer a small notebook.

     “I've a whole list of things here I've found in those oh-so-naughty web-sites you've been surfing and your little lie detector is going to tell me precisely what you really feel about them. It's not going to be any use denying what turns you on because the evidence is going to be sticking right out in front of you: literally,” she sniggered, “and if you try to tell me something doesn't turn you on but Mister Happy tells me you're lying: well let's just say that Mister Happy could be on short rations for a very long time!”

     Again, I looked towards the cuffs holding my wrists and tugged against each of them. I don't know why I did it, I already knew full well that there wasn't any point: it was just an instinctive thing to do. I hung my head and looked down at my engorged member which, I knew only too well, was soon to get me into serious trouble as its reactions to the things which excited me were just as instinctive.

     “So let's start with something nice and obvious: lingerie. We girls all know what the look of lingerie does to you men: you’re just so predictable but you’re one of the ones who love the feel of it too, aren't you? Come on: admit it.”

     “But most guys do,” I protested.

     “Yes but you take it a stage further than just touching, don’t you? She stated. “You like the feel of it so much you have to get yourself all tarted up in it. Isn’t that right!?”

     I had no choice and muttered a reluctant, “Yes dear.”

     “Well it seems you're far from alone according to the internet so you’ll be pleased to know that that doesn't upset me but what does upset me is that you kept it a secret and that you tarted yourself up in mine! Not only that but you ruined at least one of my favourite pairs of panties and you still didn't own up.”

     Naturally I apologised profusely for the damage I'd done to her panties and begged her to forgive me for keeping my cross-dressing a secret.

     “Yes: that was very silly of you. You may find it hard to believe but I quite like the idea of having you all dolled up in something sexy and, let's face it, most men's underwear is so, so boring. I thought we didn't have secrets in this marriage and believe me, we certainly won't have any after today!”

     “I just never thought you'd like it, that's all and I didn’t want to tell you because I was afraid of what you might think of me. You know: less of a man and all that. I love you and I didn't want to risk losing you.” It was all coming out now: the flood gates had opened.

     “Oh you silly, silly hunk. I love you too you daft ha'p'orth and just because you're so in touch with your feminine side doesn't make me think any the less of you as a man. Think about it. Wearing stockings and suspenders is hardly going to change your prowess at D.I.Y. or your love of fast cars and I can’t believe you're going to stop watching Top Gear and hanging on to every word of Clarkson, May and Hammond just because you're dressed to kill while sat in front of the telly. Will you stop going down the pub for a few pints with your mates just because you'll be doing it wearing frilly pink panties over those lovely stainless steel ones I've just bought you? I think not! Well, as long as you’ve done your chores and ask my permission nicely of course!

     “You’re already you and what you wear will never change that: particularly the fact that you've always been a real gentleman as well as my 'knight in shining armour' so to speak and, as I said, wearing sexy lingerie isn't going to change any of who you really are underneath, even though my knight is soon going to find himself in shining armour for real. No, it just means my handsome husband can also be my occasional rather sexy feminine lesbian lover.”

     I wasn't sure where this was going so I kept quiet. My beautiful wife then came right up and hugged me as I stood there in all my naked helplessness, crushing my ever more rampant erection between my naked flesh and her black satin corset. I was sure that even through the corset she could feel it throbbing in its desperation for the relief it had been denied for so long.

     “Having you sleeping in my nighties hasn't just been to turn you on and make you desperately frustrated while you've been locked up and prevented from taking yourself in hand you know. Mind you, that has actually been great fun for me and your desperation to please has certainly improved your oral skills but it's also awakened in me something I didn't know was there: I've found I love snuggling up to someone in a sexy nightie too - or hadn't you noticed?”

     I had and it was damned frustrating when she reached round me as we lay in bed, wrapped the sensual folds of my nightie round that infernal plastic cage she’d kept me locked in and fondled it through the sexy material, keeping me straining against my plastic prison for night after desperate night after desperate night!

     “Well, with someone like you right here, I don't have to stay curious about those feelings or consider exploring them with another woman: I have you to play with. Like it or not – and I do know you're going to like it,” She was right, there! “you're going to be my dress-up doll and my very willing lesbian sex slave who's always going to be desperate to please me. Isn't that right, lover-girl?”

     She slowly released me from her sensual embrace and my rampant, throbbing shaft gave her the only answer she needed.

     I was gob-smacked! I’d been so afraid to open up to my fabulous wife and now she’d opened up at least as much to me. I found it very hard to take in how lucky I was. However, it did have the effect of lowering my defences and it took very little time for my gorgeous interlocutor to extract from poor, helpless, me a surprisingly long list of what I had worn of hers but she wasn't content with that, she then continued to interrogate me about what else I would love to be dressed in given the chance. I owed it to her to be totally honest and soon I had confessed to my love of sensual materials from silk and satin through chiffon and organza to vinyl and even latex although the latter two weren't from personal experience, just from the way they looked on the female form and my ever-fertile imagination as to what they would feel like on mine. There was no use denying any of it as it was all there on my lap-top and my frustrated member was constantly confirming everything I confessed to or even sometimes answering for me so emphatically that words were hardly necessary. The fabulous thing was that my predilection for the ultra-feminine hadn't shocked my lovely wife. It looked ever more likely that sissy maid uniforms and Shirley Temple style girlie party dresses might soon be joining the trousers and jackets in my wardrobe and that frilly panties, suspender belts and stockings would soon outnumber the pants and socks in my underwear drawer.

     My grilling, however, was far from over.

     “Now let's talk about your reaction when I first strung you up like this. Why did you always use those cuffs on me and never tell me you wanted a little rôle-reversal?”

     “It's like the dressing-up: I was afraid of what you'd think of me and I didn't want to lose you.”

     “Well, as it happens, having you helpless and totally at my mercy is actually getting me surprisingly hot and I can see from your little lie detector that it's having exactly the same effect on you.”

     I couldn't deny it: my erection was breaking records!

     “But you can just calm Mister Happy down a bit while I get your lap-top, because it's story time.”

     My tormentress left the room and returned with my lap-top, made herself comfortable on the bedroom chair and turned it on, then logged in with my password and opened FireFox.

     “Now what kind of story shall we have first? There are so many in your bookmarks I don't know which to choose!” she said, gleefully.

     It didn't really matter, I knew I was doomed. I'd saved links to all sorts of story sites but mainly those featuring bondage, tease and denial, feminisation, spanking and chastity and, as far as I could remember, every single one had a female domination theme running through it. Needless to say, she had already found the most damning ones of all: one devoted to chastity with a section which included feminisation and another devoted to petticoat punishment which also had a strong chastity element. My beautiful wife read a few of the incriminating short stories to me and Mister Happy left no doubt whatsoever as to what got him going. My soul had very effectively been laid bare and my crafty wife now knew just about every single one of my fetishes.

     “So, my sexy sissy slut; from now on this evening you're going to call me Mistress and in the future you're going to be the one wearing those sissy pink cuffs and your French Maids uniform is going to have all those little extras your lie detector tells me you're so keen on which will let me keep you locked in it until you've carried out all my orders.”

     I felt as if I’d been attached to one of those brain draining machines you see in cheap sci-fi movies which leaves the mind turned completely to mush and I started shamelessly thrusting into mid air, desperate for any stimulation while, although I'm sure she didn't mean to, all my tormentress could do was laugh! There she stood before me in strict black satin and lace laughing at me while I, naked and totally helpless, was trying to have sex with thin air! I suppose it could have been a scene straight out of a low budget erotic sci-fi movie.

     “Awww. . . . Is my poor sissy slut desperate then?” teased the erotically dressed mad scientist, gloating over her victim’s helpless predicament..

     “You know damned well I am! . . . . . . . . errr. Mistress.” I dragged my addled brain back to reality then saw the sudden light in her eyes. I'd just made a big mistake.

     My wife went to the wardrobe, reached to the top shelf and returned with a riding crop. Where the Hell did she get that from and how long had she had it!!? My jaw dropped and my eyes opened wide at the sight – but not for long. I screwed them tightly shut as the sting of the crop striking the underside of my erection shot through me. The reaction of my throbbing member to being struck was not what I expected though: nor was it what my wife expected.

     “So you like a bit of pain too?”

     “No, Mistress.” I replied. Glad that the corset-wearing mad scientist didn’t have any plans to wire me up to the national grid but intrigued as to the possibilities afforded by the electro-stimulation machines I’d read about.

     “Liar!” she snapped., “You really do, don't you?”

     “Please, Mistress, no. It hurt.”

     “Of course it hurt. It was meant to hurt but your little lie detector has already told me that you like the stories where that happens and it's now confirming that it likes it for real.”

     She picked up her little notebook and wrote something down. Heaven knows what it was but my breathing had become a lot shallower and more rapid. The mistress of my dreams; the dominatrix of all my fantasies; had arrived and my erection was making no secret of the fact that I was loving it.

     Then she hit me again; not with the riding crop but with the words I had been dreading all along.

     “So let's talk about another overriding theme to those stories you love so much: chastity.”

     It had to come, unlike me: so desperate to but, in my current helpless situation, totally unable to.

     Unfortunately, apart from the stories, there were far too many other chastity-themed web-sites amongst my bookmarks for me to claim it was just a passing interest.

     “I've visited all those sites on your lap-top but some need your user-name for full access and they aren't all stored in FireFox so you're going to tell me all about it if you know what’s good for you; aren't you!?”

     “Yes, Dear, errr, Mistress.”

     She made another note in her little book.

     “So. Chastity.”

     Oh dear. The subject absolutely fascinated me. I had read countless articles about male chastity and devoured innumerable stories of hapless blokes totally unable to so much as touch themselves where it mattered most while their wives kept them locked up for ludicrously long periods and enjoyed limitless orgasms thanks to their caged victims' tongues - and all the time they gave me tremendous erections. What I couldn't understand is why! Why should something which stops you having erections and orgasms make you want both so intensely? All I knew was that women all over the World were enjoying the benefits of obedient, well-behaved men and limitless oral sex while new devices for preventing men enjoying their favourite piece of anatomy seemed to be appearing daily.

     The trouble was that now my wife had also been awakened to the possibilities afforded by a tame desperately frustrated male and it appeared that she was thoroughly intent on joining that ever-increasing sisterhood of supremely happy women.

     Full chastity belts aren't cheap but what my new mistress had invested in was no cut price economy version from the far east. No, it was the real deal: proper stainless steel panties from an instantly recognisable and well respected manufacturer in Germany and I knew there was no way I was going to be allowed to avoid finding out just exactly why they were so well respected. I wasn't just going to be unable to touch my beloved joystick: once that belt was locked securely around my pelvis, I wasn't even going to be able to see it!

     Oh no! - Just thinking about it was turning me on and guess where my new mistress's gaze was fixed. Yes, 'there' and the flag was way above half-mast already. I'd been released from two whole long frustrating weeks of chastity not hours before and now my downstairs brain and its associated appendage were telling my gloating mistress that they wanted more of it! This was so damning. While locked, I was so turned on that I was straining incredibly hard to get erect: so hard that it seemed I was in danger of breaking the cage and, now I was free of the accursed device, I was getting erect through the thought of being locked up again.

     When I was in, I wanted out and, now I was out, it appeared I was showing all the signs of wanting back in!

     “I can see from your lap-top that the subject holds, shall we say, some fascination?” She raised an eyebrow quizzically. “And I can see from your little lie detector that you find it exciting. But why? It seems to go against all the primitive male instincts.”

     She was right, I had to admit that it turned me on. Let's face it, the evidence was clear for her to see but I had as much difficulty in understanding why as she did. It all came back to the questions as to why something which stops you having erections and orgasms should make you want both so intensely and, more importantly and even more inexplicably, why, now I was free of that awful plastic prison, I was getting erect through the thought of being locked up again and in an even more secure and effective proper chastity belt. The human mind is a strange thing: the submissive mind even more so.

     I did my best to explain to my beautiful mistress the apparent contradiction but, while I could explain about wanting something more when you can't have it, I couldn't come up with any logical explanation why any sane male would actually want to be put into that situation or why the threat of it should be such an erotic turn-on. The nearest I could get was by explaining about it being a form of portable bondage and that it was therefore exciting to be made to wear it by a dominant woman but, as for wearing one voluntarily, then all I could come up with was how a guy lost interest in sex as soon as he'd come but how wonderful the feeling was which led up to it and how he wanted that feeling to last forever but didn't have the self-control to stop himself from masturbating.

     Her eyes lit up.

     “So you actually want the help of a chastity device to keep you from playing with yourself?” she enquired rather incredulously.

     “I guess so,” I replied.

     “And you find the promise of staying randy for long periods exciting enough to want to be locked up?”

     “Sort of.”

     “But what really gets you going is the thought of being forced to wear one?”

     My lie detector sprang into action immediately and a broad smile graced my mistress's beautiful face.

     “OK – No need to answer that one!”

     However, I just had to deny it.

     “No, no. I've hated the last two weeks!”

     “Really? So why is Mister Happy telling me he wants to be locked up again?”

     “No, really, I hate it”

     “No you don't. You LOVE it!”

     I was rapidly losing any vestige of composure.

     “All right, I love it and hate it.” I had to admit it: it was very much a love/hate relationship and Mister Happy wasn't helping one jot!

     My new mistress was winning and she knew it. She took hold of my erect shaft, squeezed gently and whispered in my ear, “Stainless steel panties.”

     Instinctively I tensed . . . . and she understood all too well my reaction as she felt my cock pulse in her hand.

     “Stainless steel panties.”

     It happened again.

     “You want them, don't you? . . . . . Lovely stainless steel panties. . . . . . Tell me how much you want to wear them. . . . . . Show me how much you want me to lock you in them.”

     Then I totally lost control and started to thrust into her hand.

     “If you don't want me to lock you in them it’s very simple. All you have to do is just stop what you're doing to my hand right now.”

     Stop? STOP!!? Mister Happy was on a mission. I was approaching the point of no return and my downstairs brain just didn't understand the word ‘stop’. Didn't my mistress know there was absolutely no way I could stop?

     With hindsight, of course she knew there was no way I could stop. . . . . . She was playing with me and then, when I carried on thrusting into her hand regardless of the consequences . . . . . .

     She let go!

     “Oh no you don't!”

     Yet again I was left trying to get my rocks off with nothing but the non-existent friction of thin air. Her timing was perfect. Well it was for her but it certainly wasn’t for me. I thrust into nothingness, thrashed from side to side, shook up and down, all to no avail. So close . . . . . . yet so far.

     “Awww. . . . . . Does my sexy toy want to come then?

     What a stupid question!

     “Yes! Please, please, please, mistress. PLEASE let me come.” Ye gods, I must have sounded so pathetic.

     “All right. Yes: I'll give you a chance. We'll play a little game which will not only give you the chance to come but will also determine how long you get to wear your new panties.”

     I wasn't totally sure I liked the sound of this but I was so desperately frustrated and totally at her mercy that I had no choice but to agree to whatever she said.

     “Is that agreed?” she asked.

     “Yes, Mistress.”

     “But . . . . . . you're far too excited right now and we do really need to know first that they're comfortable for long-term wear so I'm just going to lock you in them until tomorrow morning and we'll have some more fun then.”

     I was flabbergasted!

     “No! Please! I need to come right now!”

     Without a word, she picked up the riding crop and tapped it into the palm of her hand while staring piercingly into my eyes.

     “Errr . . . . . . Mistress?”

     It was, of course, too late.

     “You . . . . . don't . . . . . NEED . . . . . to . . . . . come . . . . . at . . . . . all!

     Every single word was punctuated with a stinging blow from the crop to the underside of my still-erect shaft. Damn, she was getting good at this: far too good!

     “And you'll now stay in them until tomorrow evening.”

     I squirmed in my bonds breathing fast and shallow yet again but, of course, it was all to no avail.

     The gorgeous vision before me laid down the crop and left the bedroom soon to return with a bowl of water, some liquid soap, a flannel and a towel and without a word proceeded to wash my throbbing meat and two veg. Then, after drying me off but, sadly, without bringing me off, brought over the waist section of the dreaded chastity belt.

     “Stand still, sissy. This needs adjusting so it fits without any nasty pressure points but, if you give me any trouble, it's going on regardless.”

     I uttered a rather meek, “Yes, Mistress,” and did as commanded.

     I must say that my divine wife, now my mistress, did take particular care to get the belt comfortable by fitting, removing, bending, adjusting the length and then refitting over and over until it felt like it was made for me: but then, unfortunately, it of course was.

     “How's that? Comfortable?” she asked.

     “I guess so,” I reluctantly replied.


     The whole process had been rather un-erotic and the part of me which was facing imprisonment had relaxed somewhat but, when she picked up the next piece, it started to take quite some interest in the proceedings. My wife quickly smeared the inside of the tube liberally with baby skin moisturising lotion but it was too late: Mister Happy was wide awake and insisting that he was never going to go into his new home. Once again it was time to raid the freezer and soon, all too soon, the tube was installed over my freshly chilled shaft.

     The exact model of belt my wife had bought was called a 'she-male transformation' style so the tube had to be engaged into a slot in a shield plate at the front and then adjusted for height to suit my anatomy. Next the front band which, up until then, had been dangling from two chains attached to the rear of the waist band was brought between my legs and up to be slotted onto the front plate and tube assembly and the whole arrangement engaged with the point where the two ends of the belt met. I think my wife must have practised this before as it seemed to present her with surprisingly little difficulty. She engaged the lock, inserted the key and said just one word.


     What was I to say?

     “I suppose so.”

     And she turned the key.
Don't knock it if you haven't tried it.
(05-02-2018, 06:41 AM)BABYLOCK Wrote: Haven't done a great deal of research - any other stories by the author Sandy Heath - before I tear down the walls of the PDQ internet website ?

(05-02-2018, 06:55 AM)Paulette the Tart Wrote: I am working on a second but I've been very busy with other matters lately. When it's ready I may well put some of it up here - maybe a chapter or more before it's published.

My second novel, The Panties From Hell, is now being reviewed by Amazon and should be published in the next two or three days but I've just posted the Intro, Prologue and Chapter 1 here and will add more if people are interested.

Like The Wrong Panties, it's a full length novel, not one of those short stories which cost a quid for 10 pages. In fact, The Panties From Hell is even longer than The Wrong Panties at over 98,000 words!
Don't knock it if you haven't tried it.

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