Lesbian Panties Stories

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Lesbian Panties Stories
I was finishing up grad school, having completed all my course work and the research for my thesis. I just needed a place to plug in my computer and finish writing the thing. My problem was money-my loans and grants were almost gone, and I wasn't eligible for a dorm now that classes were over. The ad looked perfect -- room and board in a private residence in exchange for light housekeeping. The house was a beautiful old Victorian on a quiet street. When I knocked, the door was answered by a huge severe looking woman. She was built like a battleship, with a wide moon like face, an enormous bust, wide hips and large buttocks, and powerful looking legs. She was also completely put together-- her hair was perfectly coiffed in a stiff bouffant, her make-up was perfect, her nails manicured. She was wearing a stiff maroon silk brocade dress that hugged her body, accentuating her bust, sheer hose and classic black patent pumps with spike heels. Jewelry gleamed on her hands, wrists and neck.
She looked me up and down for a full minute while I stood awkwardly in the doorway. I introduced myself. “I am the Landlady, Mrs. Fairchild,” she announced. Then without warning she reached over and grasped my elbow and steered me into the house. “I will show you the entire house, starting with the kitchen.” She walked briskly in her pumps, her grip on my elbow was like iron, and I struggled to keep up with her pace. The house was filled with beautiful furninture. We ended up in “my room” which contained what looked like a girl's bedroom set in white with gold accents, including a carved four-poster bed, frilly accents including pink floral curtains, and a large collection of antique dolls lining the shelves of one wall. Mrs. Fairchild explained my housekeeping duties and handed me a bundle, which turned out to be a gauzy full white apron trimmed in red, with short puffy sleeves, a pleated skirt and wide ribbons which tied in back.
“You will wear this while performing your housekeeping chores in order to keep your clothing immaculate. I insist on a well ordered home. Any questions?” She stood there with her hands on her hips, looking down at me. I just shook my head no. “Excellent. Get your things, I'd like you to get started this afternoon.” Even though I hadn't even said I wanted to take the room, she had already gripped my elbow again and was leading me down to the parlor, asking me when I would return with my things. I stammered that I needed some time to pack, and thought that moving in tommorow might make more sense. She immediately stopped in her tracks, turned and grasped my chin with her manicured thumb and forefinger, forcing me to look up into her eyes.
“I told you I want you to start today. We have a lot of work to do here, and I don't like dilly-dallying dear. Now, I expect you back here in four hours with your things. Understood.?” I was in shock. She kept my face tilted up in her hand. Her perfume was strong and I felt dizzy. What was I getting into? At the same time I felt my pen-s getting hard in my pants, which I didn't understand at all. Suddenly I felt myself nodding my head yes and saying “O.K.” The Landlady's red lips made an approving smile and her hand patted my cheek, her thumb pressed against my lips. “Excellent.”
While packing my things I started to have second thoughts about what I was getting into. Mrs. Fairchild was completely intimidating and obviously used to getting her way. I examined the frilly apron she had given me. What other demands would she make? I had a feeling that once I moved in things would only get worse. But I couldn't get her out of my head. When I thought of standing frozen in front of her, forced to stare directly into her eyes by the grip of her fingers firmly “chucking” me under my chin, I felt wobbly. I had to see her again. I figured if things got out of hand, I could always leave.
Four and a half hours later I arrived by taxi, my computer, books, papers and clothing packed in several boxes and couple of suitcases. I carried my things up to the front porch and rang the bell. Mrs. Fairchild opend the door and stared at me diapprovingly.
“You're 30 minutes late.” Her tone was icy, and she was impatiently tapping the toe of one of her pumps as she held the door open. I started to stammer a response when she cut me off.
“Never mind. Get those things into your room. We have a lot to do. No dilly-dallying!” I hustled the first box up the stairs. Mrs. Fairchild kept tapping her foot and admonishing me to hurry. I was panting when I finally brought the last box up to the room. I sat on the edge of the bed to catch my breath.
“What are you doing?!” I jumped up like a jack-in-the-box. The Landlady stood in front of me. Again she chucked me under the chin. The sensation of her hand holding my face made by breath come even harder.
“Sweetheart, we NEVER sit on the edge of the bedspread. It is uncouth. And it is only polite to ask my permission if you wish to be seated in my presence, don't you agree?” Her hand tilted my head back even farther, so I was looking up into her gaze.
“Yes maam.” Again she smiled and patted my cheek, letting the ball of her thumb brush against my lips.
“You have lovely lips dear, has anyone ever told you that?” She traced my lips with her thumb. I felt frozen. Her physical presence was overwhelming me. I barely shook my head no. With a final pressure, which almost caused her thumb to part my startled lips she released me. She moved behind me and I could hear her remove something from a box. Before I could turn around I felt something being brought over my head. It was the apron. Without asking me, she lifted my arms into the sleeveholes and drawing the ribbons tight trussed me into the apron, tying a large floppy bow the small of my back.
“There. Now lets get started.” As I looked down at the full pleated gauzy skirt of the apron, I was again being dragged by the arm. When Mrs. Fairchild gave me my list of chores, I could see right away that this so-called “light housekeeping” would barely leave me time to do anything else. Under her watchful eye I began my vacuming the living room carpet. Before I was halfway done the vacuum went dead. When I turned to check the plug, Mrs. Fairchild was holding it in her hand.
“Darling, look at what those shoes are doing to my carpet!” I was wearing a pair of sneakers, which slightly disturbed the pile of the thick carpet as I walked across it. She made me remove the footwear, and frowned dissaprrovingly at the rubber treads. “Don't you have any shoes with smooth leather bottoms dear? These will never do!” When I told her I did not, she left with my sneakers. I stood there akwardly in the apron and my stockinged feet, holding the wand of the vacuum. She returned, holding a pair of shiny black flats.
“Put these on.” She handed me the shoes, which smelled of leather and appeared brand new. I noticed that her spiked pumps left small indentations in the carpet and started to protest when she pushed me down on the sofa and snatched the shoes from my hand. “Really, you must learn to respond more quickly, I expect a 'yes maam' when I address you.” She slid the shoes onto my feet, and to my surprise they fit perfectly. Soon I was back at work. When I saw my reflection in the mirror, I started to feel a little queasy. With the frilly apron and shiny black flats I looked bizzare. But Mrs. Fairchild didn't give me a moment to rest, taking me from one task to the next, with me “yes maaming” and straining to keep up with her.
Finally it was dinner time. Cooking was not one my tasks, and after I remembered to ask the Landlady's permission to be seated (still in my apron and flats), she was placing a steaming plate in front of me. It was a beef liver, string beans and mashed potatoes. I never ate liver, but was afraid to say anything. When Mrs. Fairchild asked me why I was taking so long to eat, I confessed that I'd rather not eat the meat.
Without a word, Mrs. Fairchild moved her seat next to mine, and snatched the silverware out of my hands. She cut up the liver into bite size pieces, stabbed one with the fork and brought it to my lips. I opened my mouth to protest and she popped it in. I almost gagged. Before I could even start chewing a forkful of green beans was pressed against my mouth. I tried to keep my lips shut but Mrs. Fairchild effortlessly pushed the fork into my mouth. Now her right arm circled behing my back held me firmly while she continued to feed me with the left. I struggled to keep up with her pace, almost gagging on more than one occassion. Finally my plate was empty, and she had lifted a glass of milk to my lips and was pouring it in so fast some dribbled down my chin. She didn't stop until the glass was empty. Finally she was finished. She patted my face with a napkin.
“Mrs. Fairchild, I . . .” She placed a finger against my lips and cut me off.
“I always cook healthy nutritious food and I expect you to eat everything on your plate. If you can't do that by yourself, I will assist you. I can see that I'd better get you a sippy-cup since you seem to have trouble using a glass! Now run upstairs and get ready for your bath and bed.” She paused. “Did you hear me?!”
“Yes maam!” With that she gave my face a final pat and I was excused.
I felt like I was in a daze. Was I really sitting here in a frilly apron and feminine black flats, having just been fed my dinner like a child? Part of me wanted to run out of the house, but Mrs. Fairchild's looming perfumed presence, only inches away from me, was like a magnet keeping me close. I didn't want to admit it, but the tingling I felt all over, especially in my pants was too real to deny. As I slowly started to rise from my chair I felt a strong hand push me back down.
“Really dear, where did you learn your manners? You must ask permission to be excused from the table.” I looked over at the Landlady, her hand still on my shoulder.
“May I please be excused who?” She stared at me disapprovingly.
“May I please be excused Mrs. Fairchild?”
“Very well dear. Now run upstairs and run your bath.”
As I pushed away from the table, I thought for a minute about questioning her about this, since it was early and I didn't particularly want to bathe. But I already knew better. I went up to my room, which had an adjoining bathroom with a large tub. I ran the water. As the tub was filling Mrs. Fairchild came up behind me with a box and began duumping a powder into the water. Fragrant bubbles immediately began to fill the tub.
“Umm, Mrs. Fairchild, I don't really need bubblebath....”
“Nonsense darling, this will keep your skin fragrant and supple, and you do have lovely skin, don't you.” She pinched my cheek so hard I almost yelped. “Now, quickly get out of those things and pop into the tub.”
For a minute I didn't think she was going to leave, but finally she did. I disrobed and entered the tub. Almost immediately Mrs. Fairchild re-entered the bathroom.
“Please, can't I have a little privacy!” I decided things were starting to get out of hand.
Mrs. Fairchild's face became livid. “Don't you DARE use that tone of voice to me sonny boy! And you had better learn how to address me properly or I'm going to take you over my knee! This is MY house, and I don't expect you to tell me where I can and cannot go. I came in to make sure you had folded your apron properly, and I can see that you did not! And you had better scrub yourself thoroughly, or I'll get on my knees and do it myself! Understood?”
“Yes Mrs. Fairchild maam!” I lowered my eyes. Sitting naked in the tub listening to this tirade, I could only be thankful for the perfumed bubbles that covered my raging hard-on. What was wrong with me? I had never had any desire to be bossed around by a woman, especially a large older woman who was treating me like a 12 year old. But I felt so weak with sexuality that I was literally shaking.
“Very well, now hurry up, I'll give you 5 more minutes and then I'll finish this myself.” She turned and left, closing the door. I quickly finished the bath, dried off and wrapped the large pink towel she had left around me. When I entered my bedroom the bedspread had been turned back and what looked like pajamas were resting on the bed. I couldn't find any of my own clothes. I picked up the “pajamas” which turned out to be a flannel nightgown with a short skirt and a pink and red floral pattern with a lace collar and short puffed sleeves trimmed in lace. I felt lightheaded again. What was going on?
Mrs. Fairchild suddenly steamed into the room without knocking. “What, you aren't dressed yet? Hurry up lazybones!”
“Ummmm, Mrs. Fairchild maam, I appreciate you giving me this nightgown but . . .”
The Landlady raised a hand, indicating that I should stop. “You had NO pajamas of anykind in your ratty clothing, and I insist on proper bedclothing. Now get dressed!”
I stood in my towel, realizing my pen-s was hard again. “Yes please, maam, if you could just give me a little privacy . . .”
Mrs. Fairchild unceremoniously yanked off my towel, leaving me exposed. My hands rushed down to my member, which she seemed to note with a nod. She snatched the nightgown and pulled it over my head. I had to raise my arms and she finished dressing me, her hands smoothing down the skirt right over my hard-on, causing me to squirm. “Umm, I don't have my underwear . . .”
Mrs. Fairchild was already pulling me down into the bed, and pulling the coverlet over me, sitting down next to me. “You don't need a panty to sleep in sweetheart, but I'll get you some if you insist.” Her leaned down close, tucking me in and smoothing my hair with her manicured hand, her bracelets tickling me. I couldn't stop staring into her large face.
“Now I know you've tried to be a good boy, but you must be careful to follow the house rules. I'd hate to have to discipline you.” As she said this her face leaned closer, only inches from my own, and her hand was smoothing the covers over me, again rubbing my pen-s through the thick cover and my nightgown, causing me to catch my breath. “I can see that you love your new bedclothes darling,” she continued, a smile on her face. “Don't you?” As she said this her hand again moved slowly down the coverlet over my body. “I said, don't you?” I found myself nodding affirmatively. This caused her to break out into a wide smile. “I'm so glad darling. I can see we are going to get along splendidly. You know, Mrs. Fairchild is so formal, why don't you call me 'Auntie Dear.' How does that sound pumpkin?” Again her large warm hand was pressing against the cover over my groin, causing me to squirm. Her face was just an inch from my own, an her eyes forced me tostay locked on her own. “Hmmmmmmm?”
“Ah, uh, o.k. if you'd like.” I struggled to get the words out.
“If who would like?” Her hand pressed more firmly on the cover. I felt like I was going to c-m.
“If you would, Auntie Dear.” Her face broke into a smile and her lips pressed against mine briefly. I could taste her lipstick.
“Good night precious.” She tucked me in even tighter before she left, till I felt like I couldn't breathe. We have a BIG day tommorow sweetums, so get plenty of sleep.”
“Yes Auntie Dear” I heard myself say. With that she left the room, and when the door closed I heard a key click in the lock.
It took me a long time to fall asleep. Spending my first night in this strange new bedroom in nothing but a frilly nightgown had me on pins and needles, the fabric causing a constant state of arousal that I could do nothing to relieve. What was I doing? I made up my mind that I had better get out of this situation--I had not been able to even think about working on my paper, let alone plug in my computer, and I didn't see that changing anytime soon. Mrs. Fairchild obviously had an agenda that I didn't understand at all. Finally I drifted into a fitful sleep.
“Wake up sleepyhead!” Mrs. Fairchild yanked back my covers and was pulling me from the bed. I opened my eyes to see that she had obviously been up for some time--Her hair and make-up were perfect, and she wore a cream colored satin blouse, a brown wool skirt to the knee, stockings and a pair of expensive looking chocolate alligator pumps with 4” heels. “Good morning dearheart.” She looked at me expectantly, and began tapping the toe of her pump. Finally I understood.
“Good morning Auntie Dear.” I was mortified hearing the words come out of my mouth. Mrs. Fairchild's lips curled into a Mona Lisa smile and her fingers locked onto my own and she half dragged me into the bathroom. She started putting toothpaste on my toothbrush and snapped her fingers, pointing toward the toilet. I stood frozen.
“Ummm, please Mrs. ... I mean please Auntie, can't I have a little privacy?” I couldn't believe I was pleading just to be able to relieve myself alone. The Landlady's eyes blazed.
“Your are to refer to me as Auntie DEAR or Dearest, I thought that was understood. One more slip like that I'll be introducing you to my hairbrush. And if you wanted to use the bathroom privately you should have gotten up on time. You're late, and you obviously need help getting ready which I intend to provide. I suggest you sit on the potty if you crave privacy, your nightgown will hide your privates.”
My face red, I lowered myself onto the toilet. I hoped Mrs. Fairchild would turn her back, but she stood with her hands on her hips, tapping her foot impatiently.
“You'd better hurry princess, I already told you you're late!” The problem was my pen-s was so stiff I couldn't go. Finally I got up sheepishly, my bladder still full. The Landlady pulled me over to the sink and handed me my toothbrush. I had to brush and wash up while she stood next to me. When I dried myself with the towel, she insisted on “inspecting” my hands back and front, and even bent my ears to check behind them. Before I could protest she had again locked her fingers with mine and pulled me back out to the bedroom.
“There's no time to get dressed now, just put on your slippers.” She pointed to the side of the bed, to a pair of fuzzy pink slippers.
“But Auntie Dear, I . . .” Mrs. Fairchild cut me off.
“Do I have to start dressing you too? Really!” Not wanting to give her the chance I quickly slipped on the slippers. She again took hold of my hand and led me down the stairs.
My mind was scrambling for a plan. Despite my constant state of sexual arousal, I had to get away from Auntie Dear before it was too late. Once I got dressed, I would have to come up with a reason to go to town. I would worry about my stuff later. But when I looked down at my nightgown, I could see it tenting in front of me. I still had no underwear! As I sat down for breakfast, I decided this was the first problem I had to solve. Auntie Dear was ladeling oatmeal into a large bowl.
“Excuse me, Auntie Dear, I know I got up late but I still don't have any underwear on so . . .” The Landlady placed the bowl in front of me and before I knew what was happening she was tying a large plastic bib around my neck from behind.
“Are you still going on and on about your panties princess? Very well. There's no time to go back upstairs, you need to eat your cereal pronto.” She dissapeared for a minute, and when she returned something was dangling from her outstretched finger. It was a pair of pink satin panties, bordered in frilly white lace, with row after row of lace on the seat in a “rumba” style. I was so shocked I dropped my spoon, which clattered to the floor.
“Your lucky I have some extra undies in my linen closet. Get up and put these on.” She brought her hand closer, the panty still dangling from her finger, till it brushed against my face.
This was the last straw. I jumped from my chair, my face red. “Look, I don't know what your game is, but I came here to rent a room, nothing more. I'm getting out of here!!” I turned to leave.
Mrs. Fairchild grabbed my wrist and twisted. In one motio
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