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--------------------------------------------------------
Copyright © 1999 - All rights reserved by Deborah the 
Cowgirl.  Please don't remove the author information or 
make any changes to this story.  All rights reserved. 
Thank you for your consideration.
--------------------------------------------------------

My Room Mate, My Panty Slut
by Deborah the Cowgirl (address defunct)

***

Being a sizzling hot looking female who knows what she 
wants and who really enjoys sex helps me control men 
that I'm attracted to. That type of man that fulfills my 
lustful needs usually is someone I can dominate and 
teasingly humiliate. (Fdom/M, forced-fem, tease, forced-
oral, s/m, huml, voy)

***

I hold that there are two kinds of submission in S&M. 
The kind where you are made to submit to the will of 
another and the kind where you are made to submit to the 
individual desires and curiosities that you yourself 
have but have not indulged because you're just too damn 
afraid. Oftentimes these latent desires can become your 
most zealously guarded secret that you reveal to no one. 
But sometimes, secrets slip out anyway.

The most common thing I do when I dominate someone is 
really just getting them to submit to aspects of 
themselves that they would rather not acknowledge - 
regardless of how obvious it is to everyone else. By 
having me force their secret wishes upon them, they get 
to partake of their secret sin and absolve themselves of 
responsibility in the process since I am the one making 
them do it.

Now what I am in S&M for is to make someone do what I 
want, so this aspect of submission does not particularly 
thrill me. The main reason I do it is that people find 
this facilitated and guiltless indulgence quite 
addictive. When they come back to me for it, I start to 
change the agenda subtly from what they want to what I 
want. I always find that process enjoyable.

The only trick is, of course, finding someone's 
submissive little secret. Despite my experience with all 
kinds of submissive men, I still can't peg what 
someone's submissive secret is until that person does 
something really out of the ordinary. Most of the times 
I am caught totally off guard. Take my college roommate 
for instance, when we first moved in together I never 
would have expected that I would soon turn him into my 
panty slut.

***

The first time I caught my roommate in my panty drawer 
was an early Tuesday afternoon. Normally I had a lab 
that went late on Tuesday, so I guess he didn't expect 
me to be home quite so soon. I had just come back from 
class to find the door to my room slightly ajar and my 
room light on. I thought Peter, my roommate, might be 
stealing something from me so I quietly walked over and 
peeked into my room. I was not prepared for what I saw.

"Peter!" I snapped in shock at my roommate who was 
standing in front of my opened dresser drawer. He was 
holding a pair of my red silk panties up to his face and 
lovingly rubbing it against his check. His eyes were 
closed and he had a look of complete contentment on his 
face, at least until I yelled at him.

Peter jumped, dropped the panties, and slammed the 
drawer shut. He looked guiltily at me as he fumbled for 
something to say. "I, uh... I thought some of our 
laundry got mixed up."

I knew he was lying, but I wasn't quite sure what to do 
about it right then.

"Yeah, right. Look just get the hell out," I said 
coldly.

I slammed the door to my room after he left. I was 
furious at him. How dare he violate my trust and go 
through my things while I was gone to get his sexual 
charge. I was also taken aback by the fact that he had a 
panty affinity to begin with. I mean he was a waifee 
little guy and I guess he seemed a bit effeminate, but I 
had felt his eyes wandering over my body and I had seen 
whose asses he was checking out when a group of people 
walked past. He wasn't gay.

No, he was a straight man with some kinky submissive 
desires lurking underneath a veneer of detached 
normality. I decided right there and then that night I 
would make Peter pay for violating my trust. I would 
first feminize him like he secretly wanted, and then I 
would turn things around and feminize him in a way that 
he hadn't planned on. 

My mind searched maliciously for the thing I could make 
Peter do that would haunt him forever. Then I remembered 
overhearing one of Peter's phone conversations where he 
was bitching to his friend about some guy name Brad that 
he hated because that guy had blackballed him out of the 
fraternity he had wanted to join.

That was it. That was the key. I would use Brad to 
punish Peter forever entering my room. And with that, I 
devised a plan. Step one of my plan involved hiding a 
video camera in my room and setting it to record during 
the times when I knew Peter would be there and I would 
not. Both the door to my bedroom and Peter's had a lock 
on it, but I left mine unlocked all the time I was gone. 
It didn't take long for step one to turn into a complete 
success.

Over the next few weeks of watching videotape, it became 
apparent that raiding my panties was a pretty common 
occurrence for Peter. It also became apparent from the 
tape that little Peter had a pattern: first he would go 
through my dirty laundry looking for panties that had 
the right smell to them, and then if he didn't find any 
he liked he would go into my clean panty drawer and get 
a pair that he liked the look and feel of. 

Usually he would try on a pair that suited his fancy, 
and frequently masturbate while wearing them pair and 
maybe running another pair over his chest or face. It 
didn't take long for me to get hours of juicy footage of 
Peter. Like I said, step one was a complete success- now 
on to step two.

***

Peter had become fairly predictable about the times he 
would come into my room, so one day I quietly crept into 
our apartment, tip toped over to my door, and peeked in. 
Sure enough, there he stood smelling at the crotch of a 
thong I had worn earlier in the week.

"PETER, you sick PERVERT!" Obviously there was no 
reasonable defense for the situation he was in, but he 
nevertheless sputtered something about missing some 
laundry.

"Don't bother trying to lie to me," I scowled. "I wonder 
what your friends would think if I told them?"

"I... look... this is all just a big mistake," he said. 
Genuine fear had crept into his voice now, which is 
exactly what I had intended.

I walked slowly over to him with a look of rage on my 
face. His watery eyes got a little bigger with every 
step. Then I grabbed a fist full of his black hair, 
leaned in, and whispered into his ear. "Listen Peter, 
I've been videotaping you and the things you do in my 
room. I have you in all kinds of situations, posing in 
the mirror in my lingerie, jerking off with my panties, 
all kinds of things. I also overheard you say that a guy 
named Brad blackballed you out of the fraternity you 
wanted. If you don't want to Brad and everyone else in 
that fraternity to get a copy of that tape, then you 
will do exactly as I say from now on. Understood?"

Peter really didn't have any options, but he still 
hesitated to nod right away. I guess he realized that he 
had gotten himself into a nightmare situation and that I 
had had him by the balls. Little did he realize that 
this was just the beginning.

Like I said, one of the things I have always enjoyed 
doing is taking someone's fetish that excites them and 
making it so extreme that they come to regret it. I love 
the whole process of taking their whole experience and 
turning their emotional reaction from excitement to fear 
and humiliation, and I especially enjoyed what I did to 
Peter.

Over the course of the next week, I taught Peter that 
wearing panties could be a full time job. The first 
thing I had demanded was a key made to Peter's bedroom 
door. Then one day he came home to find that I had gone 
through all his clothes and dirty laundry and taken 
every single pair of boxers and briefs that he had 
owned.

In their place, I left a "Veronica's Closet" shopping 
bag filled with an assortment of black lace panties that 
were just his size. It took him a full hour of brooding 
in his room before he worked up enough courage to ask. 
"What happened to my underwear?"

"From now on Panty Slut, that is what I will expect you 
to wear," I said menacingly. "I will inspect your 
panties regularly and if you aren't wearing one of those 
sexy black panties that I bought for you then Brad gets 
that tape."

He looked at the floor and tried to look pathetic. I 
suppose he wanted me to feel sorry for him and lighten 
up, although I don't see why. I knew that deep down that 
being a sissy was what he had always wanted; now he just 
had an excuse to do it every day. Of course, I am not so 
sure that he really wanted my next revelation. "Next 
week we start with the garter belts."

***

Peter's slut training, as I called it, progressed 
quickly after that. Funny thing about controlling 
someone, it's the first shove that is always the 
hardest. After that you can have them doing things more 
and more depraved with less and less effort. It was the 
same with Peter. I had him so trained that on command he 
would pull down his pants anywhere he happened to be so 
I could check to see that he was in his panties. 

Soon he was cleaning the whole apartment wearing nothing 
but a tight pair of panties and a pair of thigh high 
stockings. I especially enjoyed watching him wobble 
around in heels. The looks of embarrassment and 
awkwardness he had only made my victory greater.

Each night I would make him tell me what a sissy whore 
he was. I even called me at his job and made him say it 
to me over the phone. I knew he had a secret crush on 
one of the women there. I am pretty sure that she didn't 
think of him as anything but a freak after I made him go 
on and on over the phone to me about how the garters and 
stocking felt against his smooth legs. Oh, didn't I 
mention. I made him shave his legs too. But this was all 
just a warm up; my true punishment of Peter was yet to 
cum.

Brad, the fraternity guy that Peter hated, was exactly 
what I expected: vain, chauvinistic, materialistic, and 
completely lacking in depth, not at all surprising given 
that he was a fraternity guy. In fact, it even worked to 
my advantage. Guys like that aren't too hard for me to 
manipulate. All I had to do was wear something sexy and 
bump into him on campus on day. Within a couple of 
minutes, we had a date for Friday night.

In preparation for Friday, I hate Peter clean my 
apartment spotlessly. He had become pretty good at it by 
now with all the practice he was getting. What I didn't 
tell him was that Brad was on his way over to pick me 
up. I suppose if he had known that, it would not have 
been nearly as easy to have put him in stocking, 
panties, high heels, and a training bra as he cleaned up 
around the house. I further complicated matters by 
locking the door to his room while he was cleaning out 
my bathroom.

Then the doorbell rang.

Peter came bolting out of my room and made a mad dash to 
his bedroom door. Only to find it locked. He tried to 
open his door again, and then he slammed against it with 
all his might. Only after exhausting himself against his 
door did he turn and look at me.

"Who is that?" he asked in the calmest voice he could 
muster.

"That's Brad, we have a date tonight," I said matter-of-
factly while walking to the door. Just before opening 
it, I turned and looked at Peter. The look on his face 
was the same blank look of terror that rabbits have when 
caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

I held up the key to Peter's bedroom and smiled cruelly. 
"What would you do for this right now? Well, you aren't 
going to get it, and since I plan on using my bedroom to 
fuck Brad's brains out, I suggest you hide in my 
closet."

Peter briefly froze with a mortified expression on his 
face, then the doorbell rang again and I turned to let 
Brad in. Behind me I heard the scramble of Peter 
scurrying to reach my bedroom before I opened the door.

I must say, my plan was perfectly executed, but 
imperfectly conceived. When I had conceived my plan I 
had intended to fuck Brad over and over again while 
making Peter watch from my closet. Strangely enough, I 
had forgotten how much I hated sex with guys like Brad.

We made some small talk over a couple of beers, and then 
we went straight to making out on the couch. I knew that 
Peter must have been watching jealously from out of my 
bedroom, and that thought was enough to keep me 
interested in what I was doing, but just barely. Kissing 
Brad was duller than ditchwater. For the record, I like 
soft kisses over my lips, face, and neck moving smoothly 
into deeper, more consuming kisses, not just minute upon 
minute of seeing how far back in my throat you can shove 
your tongue.

If this was Brad's idea of a good time, then I was going 
to have to do my own foreplay. So, instead I closed my 
eyes and visualized the look that must have been on 
Peter's face as he watched us through the crack of my 
bedroom door: how wounded he must have felt having to 
watch his rival conquer the woman he longed for while he 
sat there in women's garters and heels; how silly his 
cock must have looked bulging from his panties; and the 
fear that must be racing through his mind not knowing 
what I had planned for him next. 

Those were the thoughts that got me wet, and the more I 
thought of how I was tormenting poor Peter, the hotter I 
became.

I excused myself from the couch by telling Brad that I 
wanted to change into something that he would really 
like before we started the main event. When I closed my 
bedroom door behind me, I found Peter kneeling there 
helplessly.

"You had better get into the closet," I whispered to 
him. "Brad and I are going to be fucking like wild 
animals in here in a few minutes."

With that I grabbed him by the hand and led him into my 
closet. I quickly pulled my green lace teddy of the 
hanger. "That is what I am going to wear for him. This 
is what a woman will do for a real man, while sissy boys 
like you get to watch."

I forced Peter to his knees before me, and pulled his 
head into my crotch." Bet you can smell how excited I 
am, can't you Peter? That's how excited a real man makes 
me Peter! That's why Brad is better than you, and that's 
why he gets me and you don't."

I slowly stripped my clothes off, all the while watching 
the lust in Peter's eyes grow. After I had removed my 
panties, I scrunched them into a ball. With my other 
fist I grabbed Peter's head and wrenched it back.

"Open your mouth!" I commanded.

He looked at me pleadingly. "Please stop this," his eyes 
said to me.

"Open your mouth Goddamn it!"

Slowly, Peter obeyed. Then I shoved my wet panties into 
his mouth, grabbed some duct tape off a closet shelf, 
and tapped them into a gag. "I would hate for your 
whimpering to disturb my fun, but look on the bright 
side. At least you and Brad will get a taste of me 
tonight."

Next I used the duct tape to hog-tie poor Peter- first 
his wrists, then his ankles, and then his wrists and 
ankles together. Peter whimpered in protest, but I could 
tell by his the hardness that was bulging out of his 
panties how excited he was by all this. In my final 
victorious moment, I changed into my green teddy right 
in front of him, all the while telling him how pathetic 
he looked, about what a faggot he must be, and about how 
Brad was going to satisfy me in a way he simply 
couldn't.

When I finished changing, I stood straddle of his face 
and pulled the fabric away from my crotch. "Look at what 
you can never have, Peter. Take a long last look at my 
glistening pussy." Then I left him, whimpering, horny, 
and humiliated on the floor of my closet.

Following through with my plan, Brad and I were fucking 
like wild animals in no time. I can say that with full 
confidence because I have never seen wild animals have 
extended foreplay and that was definitely true of my boy 
Brad. His idea of foreplay was fumbling around with the 
clips on the crotch of my teddy. 

Finally we began, and I was still so hot from taunting 
Peter, that I needed a good screwing. Brad's dick was 
better than nothing. I must apologize if the details of 
my intercourse with Brad are a bit brief, but so was the 
affair itself.

Of course, with all the noise I was making, I am sure 
that Brad thought he was about to set a world's record. 
I made those little noises for Peter, and the more I 
closed my eyes and thought about how it must be 
affecting him, the louder I got. Brad and I came amid a 
torrent of my screams about how big he was and what a 
real man he was.

True to form, Brad left shortly after we were finished. 
That was also in my plans. With the crotch of my teddy 
still unfastened, I quickly went over and opened the 
closet door. And there was my sweet Peter, all curled up 
in a ball, eyes closed tight, covered with sweat, and 
his cock as hard as ever. He looked up me wearily, 
wondering what was in store for him next. Again I 
straddled his face and let him see a full view of the 
remains of Brad oozing out of my pussy.

"That Brad was a messy boy I'm afraid. Looks like you 
are going to have to clean me up a bit." With that, I 
ripped the duct tape from over his mouth and, leaving 
the rest of him hog-tied, lowered myself over his mouth.

I used one hand to pull my cunt apart for him, and the 
other I used to pull his tongue deeper and deeper into 
me. All the while my downward gaze never wavered. I 
loved seeing the disgusted look on his face as he 
cleaned Brad's cum out from inside of me. 

To Peter's credit, he actually has a very agile tongue 
and knows how to use it to satisfy a woman: he ran it 
broadly and lightly over my lips, he plunged it deeply 
into me and wiggled it like a loose fire hose, he made a 
tight little point with the tip of his tongue and 
massaged my aching clitoris, and he dutifully licked my 
asshole like all good little boys should.

As I could feel the orgasm building inside me, again I 
made noise. But it had a different effect this time. I 
looked down and Peter and moaned little encouragements, 
"Yes Peter, that feels SO good. Come on, satisfy me the 
way a bitch would. Use your tongue. Come on bitch, 
yeah."

As I got closer to orgasm, I moved my hand from holding 
my down to grab a hold of Peter's panties. I forcefully 
started to pull them up the crack of his ass. My eyes 
never left Peter's face. When an especially strong wave 
of pleasure would wash over me, I would pull sharply on 
his panties and giggle quietly at the look of pain it 
caused him. When at last I did cum, I pulled his panties 
so much I ripped them in two.

Oh well. This time I am going to send Peter to get his 
own panties.

END

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The
author does not condone the described behavior in
real life in any way, shape or form. Anyone tempted
to act out any of the scenarios in this story should
seriously consider seeking professional help.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
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