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Sort of but not really, your advice will be very helpful” “Well do you want to buy her something sluttish, classy, exotic, raunchy or fetish?” After a few moments of considered silence Toby said he thought raunchy sounded like the sort of thing he was thinking of. I told him we should meet me at Bicester Village Outlet Shopping Centre at Pret A Manger on Saturday. We agreed on 2pm. So I met Toby as arranged and after a buying me a coffee and having a quick general chat Toby provided with a small hand written shopping list with three items on it. Tiny thong. 2. Garter belt 3. Stockings (all in black). “Okay, that’s easy, just one question though. How tiny do you want the thong to be? “Quite tiny” “I whispered another question to him. Does she shave down there?” “Why do you ask? “Depends on how tiny the thong can be” “Oh, I see, I’ll tell her she’ll have to be shaved” So after finishing my coffee I popped into Agent Provocateur and purchased a Shazami suspender and thong set for a. I couldn't wait.Two days later, I checked into the motel as early as I possibly could, 3pm. I called him when I got into the room to let him know what room I was in. I then changed into my little dress, got my makeup all done up was hardly done when there was a knock at the door. I looked outside and there he was.I opened the door and he stepped in. He gave me a big kiss and one hand almost immediately went up the back of my skirt (not really all that hard because it barely covered my ass). As he had requested, I was pantyless. After fondling my ass and kissing me for a short time, he pulled away and then smacked me on the ass. "You dirty girl" he said. "What kind of little slut walks around with no panties?"I played along and said "Sorry Daddy".I had not noticed that he had one hand behind his back the whole time. He then revealed what was in his hand, a package of panties. They were not women's panties, instead they were girls panties. He told me to try on the pink pair.
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M.The sound was like the echo of a rifle shot, a sharp clap every time theheel of a shoe hit a floor tile.The steps were ominous and mean, like the cracking of a whip. Theyshouted that someone was approaching, and that world should payattention. It was the sound of a heel on an office floor, and every stepmade Paul Taylor feel worse. It was the sound of his heartbeat, beatingout of control.He moved into the office of National Travel, Inc., as he had everyworkday morning for 12 years, his heels sounding his approach. At first,no one paid attention as Paul approached the desk of the securityguard."Hello,Denny," Paul said softly. "I need to get to the office."Denny Simpson, the security guard, glanced up. Then his jaw dropped atwhat he saw. Paul Taylor, good old ordinary Paul, was standing in frontof him.Wearing a blue dress with a flared hem.And makeup.And blue heels.And carrying a purse. There were rings on his fingers, and his hair wasstyled in a page boy. Someone had added light.

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