The clothes pins on his nipples were killing him ... and he loved it. He'd come to learn, over about three months, that he was Mistress Melanie's Pain Slut. Often he wondered what it was he sought more: the pain; the humiliation; or Melanie's approval. She had the ability to expertly dole out a measure of each in a way that kept him coming back for more. Hell, she kept him running back for more. And, each day as his addiction for each of the three grew he ran to her faster than the day before. In the early days he wondered about himself, why she affected him as she did. But, that had long since stopped. Now he freely admitted to himself, if not to others in his life, that he lived to do her bidding.
In each of their encounters it seemed that her bidding became more and more painful, humiliating and, strangely, affectionate.
Just two nights before Melanie had called him at the hospital where he worked as the Vice President for Medical Affairs. His secretary, Kelly, had come to believe Mistress Melanie was a physician working in another hospital across town. Kelly believed that Dr. Melanie Harris was being recruited by Dr. Hunter Blane to head-up the Neurosciences Program. In fact, once she'd heard Hunter joking with Dr. Harris about her successful Pain Management Program.
About thirty minutes before the call came in Kelly brought a small brown paper-wrapped package into his office. It had been delivered DHL with a bold "Courier Delivery" sticker on it. "Dr. Harris sent this over with a note saying that you should not open it until she calls. What's going on?"
Hunter's pulse immediately began to race and he experienced a solid, spontaneous erection as he glanced up from his paperwork, trying to act normal. "Who knows? Set it down next to the phone. I guess I'll find out when she calls." Apparently, he seemed composed enough because Kelly moved on.
"Dr. Shilling would like to see you at 5:00 pm after his last patient. Seems he's unhappy with the block time the OR Supervisor is giving him. He's never happy you know and doesn't really bring us patients. I don't know why you put up with him. Pain in the ass." Richard "Dick" Shilling really could be a pain in the ass and Hunter would have shared that the Dick was a tolerable enough pain considering his wife's father was contemplating an endowment to the hospital which would go a long way in the current campaign for a new Women's Center. But, and this is how weird his personal life was becoming, the combination of her comment about "pain in the ass" and the sight of the small package resting near the phone distracted him to the extent he could not engage in their usual banter. Hunter didn't speak; Kelly smiled and left the room. Hunter waited for the call. It came.
His direct line, most recently her line. "Hunter did you get my gift?" He reached for the box with his free hand. As he did, he paused in route long enough to punch the speakerphone button. He placed the handset in it's' cradle and completed the journey to the box with both hands. The ritual began, she spoke quietly and directly, "You may open the box and tell me what you find." He deftly unwrapped the package to reveal an elegant sterling silver box, four inches square and one inch deep. He spread the box open on its silver hinges and looked with to find a pair of delicate, black, sheer lace panties. He held them wide between the thumbs and forefingers of each hand.
"Panties. Yours?"
"Of course. Smell them. Put your nose in the crotch and smell me. They are probably still a little damp from my cunt juice and pee dribble. Tell me." He did, they were, he inhaled, and he spoke.
"Wonderful."
"Wonderful?" She said nothing more but her tone spoke volumes.
"You smell wonderful Mistress Melanie." He pushed the crotch between his lips.
"Good Boy, now put them on."
"What?"
"Put them on. You are going to be a Sissy Boy tonight." Hunter looked over to the door separating his inner office from the outer office and reception area where Kelly sat. It was never locked and he never required that Kelly knock before entering when he was alone. While his panic grew he heard her speak again. "Now, Hunter. Take off that manly thousand dollar suit you are wearing, skim off your Calvin Klein's and put on my pretty lace panties. You want to, I know. Do it now." His eyes locked on the unlocked door and he reached for his belt as he toed-off his loafers. Racing he unzipped his fly and shimmied out of his trousers. He stood behind his desk in jacket, shirt, tie, white briefs and black over-the-calf Gold Toes hoping to God Kelly didn't barge in.
"Hunter, do you have them on?
Panic in his voice, "I'm putting them on now Mistress." He stuck his thumbs inside the elastic waistband and ripped his underwear down to his ankles and off in one movement. Record time to remove a pair of shorts. Just as quickly he drew her delicate panties up his legs, settling their elastic waist in the indentation left in his skin by his own shorts. As he was reaching for his trousers she spoke.
"Don't put your pants on yet. Walk over to that bookshelf with the smoked glass and take a look at your reflection. Tell me how you look." She'd been in his office before and knew that the bookshelf was twenty feet forward of his desk, half way to the door. He would be fully exposed if Kelly or anyone else walked in. She knew what she was doing. He sprinted to the bookshelf, stood before it just long enough to really see himself, and he raced back behind the shelter of his desk.
"Aside from the fact that my hard cock is about to rip the lace to shreds, they look pretty silly." Hunter tried to sound as masculine as possible. He was six-two, two hundred and thirteen pounds of fit man in a woman's panties. It didn't work to make him feel better. Actually he thought he looked they way she wanted him to look, strangely erotic. His cock throbbed as he spoke; it strained in a pleasurable way against the lace.
