Mistresss Panty Washer

The pleasant texture of her new cotton panties touched my face again. I licked every inch of them, savoring their scent, pulling the fabric into my mouth.

My heart was pounding, and images of our director-an adult, statuesque brunette with a heavy, commanding gaze-spun in my mind. Her large, firm body radiated power and sensuality. She was always dressed in a strict business suit, like a black panther ready to crush her prey at any moment.

Her massive thighs, tightly wrapped in a black skirt, ignited my imagination. The skirt barely contained her prominent backside, which made the fabric stretch with every step she took, in perfect rhythm with her movements. Those thighs promised both punishment and mercy at the same time.

Dark blouses or shirts clung to her heavy chest every day, giving her figure poise and strength. A perfume with bitter notes of floral herbs completed her image, making even the air tremble.

Every time she walked past, my gaze involuntarily stopped on the way her skirt hugged her hips, accentuating the lines of her underwear. I greedily imagined how those panties smelled after a few days of wear, soaked in her sweat and dominant energy. From the moment I started working at the store, the desire to taste them became an obsessive thought.

Today, after yet another scolding, I locked myself in the fitting room. An opened package of new panties fell to the floor, but I didn't care. The only thing consuming my mind was the black fabric that had completely taken over my thoughts--and my mouth.

Suddenly, her voice pierced through me:

"Alek!" -- cold and sharp, like the crack of a whip.

The sound of her heavy heels approaching on the tiled floor pounded in my chest. I tried to hide the panties but, in my panic, shoved them deeper into my mouth.

The curtain was yanked open, and the scent of her perfume scorched my nostrils. She stood before me, tall and imposing. Her hips seemed to fill the entire space between us, her sharp, merciless gaze cutting into my very soul.

--Alex, I've given you more chances than you deserve. To my office. Now," her voice was low, threatening.

I could only mumble in response, but she had already grabbed me by the tie, yanking so hard that I fell to my knees, my crotch colliding with her leg.

"When I say something, you respond immediately. Am I clear?"

I wanted to swallow, but the panties in my mouth pressed against my palate and tongue. I nodded. Her lips tightened into a thin line, and she tugged harder, forcing me to bend forward.

"Get up. To the office. Now," she commanded.

I followed her, trying not to lag behind, but the sway of her hips with every step only fueled my humiliation.

Once she closed the door to the office, she abruptly turned toward me, yanking my tie like a leash. My knees gave way. Her heavy heel pressed against my crotch with force, and I moaned again, saliva starting to drip from the corners of my mouth.

"So, you little thief, I've known it was you for a long time. Your eyes give you away. Did you think I didn't notice on the cameras what you do with the panties? Or how you stare at my ass every time I walk by?"

She slapped me sharply, and the panties fell out of my mouth. Picking them up from the floor, she clenched them in her hand and smirked.

"You're a panty lover, huh? Want me to give you something more fitting for a filthy pervert like you?"

Her voice dropped, becoming slow and sultry. She stepped closer, pressing her heel harder against my crotch, sending waves of pleasurable pain that turned into arousal.

"Now you'll be useful to me. Having a personal washing machine in my office sounds rather appealing. I have a collection of dirty panties left behind by careless customers, and as a reward, I'll even give you mine. You want to taste me, don't you? That rich flavor aged between these wide hips, isn't that right, my little washing machine?"

"Yes, Miss Amanda."

The director grabbed my chin, locking her piercing gaze onto mine, searching for every ounce of fear she could find.

"Call me Mistress or Owner. I own you now; you are completely mine. Start cleaning the panties--I want to see your skills and punish you for the lack of them."

She looked down at me, her massive chest rising and falling with each breath.

Her scent and voice pierced through me, leaving no room for resistance. I had become her personal washing machine.

"Open your filthy mouth; I want to clean it so that it's spotless. All toys that belong to me must be clean." My terrified face remained tense and submissive at the same time, which both irritated and excited Amanda. She abruptly lifted my head, her fingers gripping my cheeks tightly, forcing my mouth to open on its own. My muffled attempts to resist-weak and futile,only fueled her excitement. Her gaze was predatory, and her slender fingers slid into my mouth, exploring its space with the confidence of an owner. The fingers went deeper until she finally withdrew them, wiping them disdainfully on my face as if on a rag.

The washing machine still has much to learn to become the perfect item for its Mistress.

Her voice was low but commanding:

"Take an example from my panties- they perfectly absorb everything."

She smiled, playing with her eyes, and began slowly removing her black lace panties. Her fingers pressed the fabric against her hips, digging into the curves and leaving a pale mark on her skin. Every millimeter of the fabric playfully and sensually stretched, as if it were a collar on my neck.

My breathing grew louder, my throat dry, and I involuntarily swallowed, desperately craving her touch, her patronage, her authority. I leaned my face toward her leg, as if possessed, but she only smirked and pushed me away, leaving me frozen in anticipation.

Amanda sat down on a chair, which creaked plaintively under her weight.

She removed her panties and slowly brought them to my face.

I am a kind Mistress," her voice sounded sweet, almost seductive. "That's why we'll start with a treat. You may smell them."

She pressed the fabric against my nose with her foot, completely cutting off my breath. The scent of her panties filled my nostrils, thick and intoxicating, clouding my mind and forcing submission. My body instinctively responded-my mouth opened wide, gasping for air, while she watched me with a satisfied smile.

"Good job, my washing machine. You've already learned the first command. Keep your mouth open to enjoy your Mistress's grace. Don't be afraid, I take good care of my toys."

Her hand reach for the table, where jars fil colorful liquids were arranged. one slipped on a latex glove, carefully pulling it over her fingers. Amanda squeezed out a few drops of liquid, covering every inch of the glove, as if preparing for a ritual.

"Today, I will focus only on your mouth," her voice became softer. My mouth filled with saliva, as if I had been her possession all my life. "Let's see how much you can stretch and become a convenient thing."

She stepped closer, her gaze burning through me. Then, slowly and methodically, she inserted her hand into my mouth, stretching it wider than I could have imagined. My cheeks burned, and my tongue frantically searched for a corner where her hand did not fill my mouth.

You have a spacious mouth," she said mockingly. "A lot of panties could fit in there. Of course, it still needs to be stretched more and more."

Amanda suddenly pulled her hand out, allowing me to cough, but she gave no time for rest. She walked over to a drawer and took out a brush-ordinary in appearance, yet in her hands, it seemed like a tool of punishment.

"Let's clean this filthy tongue so it becomes worthy of cleaning and pleasing me. Watch carefully what I do with it-this is what happens to things that don't suit me."

The brush slowly touched her thigh, then she pressed it against her crotch, rubbin intensely. Th re and more anda spat on the brush, completing the ritual.

And now, open your mouth wider, baby."

I obeyed without hesitation-my body was completely hers. She began brushing my tongue, pressing harder than necessary, as if trying to squeeze out the last remnants of resistance. Every movement was both painful and intoxicating.

"I am kind to you, washing machine. But don't forget, you are my thing. And if I want to fuck your mouth with this brush, it will be done, so don't even think of resisting."

Amanda finished the procedure with a smug smile, looking over my exhausted, thoroughly used face.

Covered in saliva, it pleased her. She took her panties and wiped my face.

"You did well," she said, putting the brush away. "But I think that's enough for today. Tomorrow, you'll earn these panties if you behave perfectly, slut. Get dressed and go to work-remember your reward."

She smiled and showed me her wet, glistening panties.