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 ï>¿Little Bitch by Pixiehoff

   Little Bitch 4

   My instructions were clear.  Before de-training, I had to remove my
knickers.  I would have to text "knickerless Pixie" to her, and she would
inspect me.

   This was typical of her.  I had been to London for an important
conference at which I had been giving a paper.  I had relaxed into my
everyday life, but Annie was clearly wanting to prepare me for my week-end
with her.

   The idea had been arousing when we talked on the mobile, but now I was
actually about to do it, it felt risky.  Of course that was what made it
arousing.  However, between the idea and its execution fell the shadow of
fear.

   The train had been crowded in London, but most of the commuters had
poured out at the first stop, and by this, final stage, the carriage was
mostly empty.  But that was not the same as totally empty.  Unfortunately
the woman sitting opposite me had not taken advantage of the empty seats to
move, and I feared giving offence if I did.  But if I was to be
knickerless, I had to go now.

   I was wearing, as instructed, a short skirt, stockings and
suspender-belt, which allowed easy access to my knickers.  I went to the
loo, careful to lock the door.  Looking in the mirror I saw I was indeed,
as I had thought, blushing.  I redid my lipstick and touched up my mascara,
brushing my hair carefully.  I had not seen her for days - forever it
seemed.

   Pulling my knickers down, I squatted and peed, carefully wiping myself
with tissue.  Then, instead of pulling them up and adjusting them, I took
my knickers off and placed them in my handbag.  I smoothed my skirt down
and, after washing and drying my hands, stepped out.

   It felt strange, exposed, erotic.  The air felt cool around my bared
arse, and I could feel my newly-dried pussy getting wet.  As I walked back
to my seat, I was conscious of my nakedness, and took care when sitting;
but I was aware that my knickerless state would be easily revealed if I
made the wrong move.  I texted: "knickerless Pixie."

   As the train began to slow down, I rose.  Fuck I thought!  My bag was in
the overhead locker.  A nice man had put it there earlier when the train
was crowded.  At four foot eight there was no way I could reach up there.
He'd promised to get it down, but hadn't.

   The woman opposite ignored me.

   If I tried to reach up I would reveal my knickerless state.  Even trying
to raise my arms would do that.  What to do?  I felt a sense of panic as
the train slowed even more.

   Then came relief.  A tall young man, walking to the front of the train
saw my plight:

   "Would you care for some help, lady?"

   Would I?  I would ever!  Ignoring the patronising tone, I told him I'd
be ever so grateful if he'd get my bag down.  I thanked him.  Of course
that meant we had to make small-talk as the train pulled into the terminus.

   "Well," he said, "we can't have you standing on the seat, that skirt
doesn't look as though it would hide much."

   He must have seen me blush.

   "You look cute in it," he said, as he effortlessly got my case down.

   As I moved to get a grip on the case, my shoulder bag fell, and to my
horror, I realised he could see my knickers, which I was getting ready to
hand to Annie.  He grinned at me.

   "Someone waiting for you?"

   Blushing furiously, I nodded.  Looking out of the window I could see
that the lights of the town were coming into view, we had about another ten
minutes.  He gestured to me, opening the door to the loo.  We looked like
we were the only two getting off.

   "In."

   I did as I was told.  He locked the door.

   "Stand on the toilet you slut!"

   I did.

   "Show me what you got!"

   I wanted the earth to swallow me up, but raised my skirt, showing my
stocking tops, suspenders and bare pussy.

   "Open your legs."

   I did, allowing him a good grope.

   "We're coming in now, but if I see you again, I'll make you reward me
properly.  Now what do you say?"

   "Thank you for your help, Sir."

   He smiled.

   "Good girl.  Hope your man fucks you senseless."

   Little did her know that my "man" was a woman.

   As he opened the door, I swiftly took my knickers, which were damp, from
my bag to my coat pocket.  He smiled as he said goodbye.

   I could feel the cool might air around my nether regions.  She was there
- smiling.

   "Hand 'em over!" I did.

   "Wet, slut!" She grinned, sniffing them before putting them in her coat
pocket.

   "For you, always," I grinned back.

   "Car, now!"

   As we got to the car, she opened the door, standing there watching as I
exposed myself for her.

   "Are you a slut, Pixie?" She was now grinning broadly.

   "Yes, for you, always." I knew the form, and it made me so gooey between
my legs.

   "Anyone notice?"

   I had been dreading this, but had to tell her.

   "So, let's get this right, you let some young stud finger your cunt in
the toilet."

   "Yes, Miss Annie."

   "You really as such a fucking slut!"

   I shifted uneasily as we drove back home.  Whenever it was safe, her
hands would explore up my skirt, and I shifted uneasily every time her
fingers brushed my pussy.

   "Tonight, Pixieslut," she said, using the diminutive which she often
used when I was in this mood, "as you are a slut, I think we call what I am
touching your cunt, don't you?" And as she said it, she touched between my
lips, making me moan.

   "Yes, Miss," I responded, breathily, "sluts have cunts."

   "And who owns your cunt, Pixieslut?" She said, emphasising the word she
knew I hated, but which, when I was in this mood, turned me squishy.

   "You own my cunt, Miss."

   "And who owns your orgasms, slut?"

   "You do Miss," I moaned as her finger probed my wetness.

   "And what do you have to do if you need an orgasm, slut?"

   By now I was not far from that place.  Days without her, denied an
orgasm by our agreement, I was being driven to distraction by the
activities of her finger.

   "I have to beg, Mistress."

   "Beg, how, Pixieslut?"

   "I have to ask for cummies, Miss."

   In the dark no one can see you blush, but she knew how this was
effecting me; the state of my cunt told her everything she needed to know.
Suddenly she removed her finger, but left my skirt at the top of my thighs,
exposing my stocking tops.

   "LIck!" She commanded, putting her wet finger under my nose.

   I could smell my arousal, and tasting myself as I sucked her finger was
almost more than I could bear.  But bear it I did, there would be a long
night ahead.  The car began to slow.  The road was quite dark, and suddenly
she stopped about a hundred yards from the house.

   "Skirt off, you will walk the last hundred yards like that!"

   There was no point arguing.  It was late, and with some luck I would not
meet anyone.

   I stood there, knickerless.  She drove off and parked.  I saw her go
into the house.  Quickly, feeling utterly exposed, I walked to the house as
fast as I could.

   She opened the door for me and then pushed me against the wall.

   "Fuck, I was going to wait, but want you NOW!"

   I knew what she wanted, and sank to my knees, lifting her skirt and
pulling her knickers down.  They were sticky; she was as wet as I was. 
Parting her thighs I got between them and applied my tongue to her nectar.
Lapping upwards, I licked on her clit, flicking it up as two fingers found
her entrance and, parting her lips, I plunged them in, touching the side of
her walls in the way she loved.

   She gripped my head, pressing me into her needy pussy.

   "Fuck, fuck, fuck you slut, oh!"

   I worked my fingers faster, deeper, harder, nibbling her clit.  Her
pussy was making the lewd noises we both loved and which presaged pleasure
to come.  I felt her tense as my small fingers drove in and pulled out. 
She gripped my head tight as she pushed herself onto me, cumming hard, her
juices creaming my face.  Her pussy gripped my fingers.  She shook with the
after-shocks, as I slowly removed my fingers.  Looked up.

   "Welcome home, darling" she said, "am I glad to see you.  There," she
giggled, "no need for knickers for either of us really."