Another pair of panties

Mufasa swore he’d never go this far. But temptation has a way of wearing a man down especially when it’s tied to the thrill of pleasing me. This time, it was another pair of panties. Softer. Smaller. Even more revealing than the last. He saw them, imagined how I’d react, and that was it—he had to have them.

The second he got home, he didn’t even wait. He pulled them on and sent the first picture. Then another, then one more, just a little bolder than the last.

It wasn’t just about how he looked—though he looked perfect. It was about what the act meant. Wearing something he once said he never would. Not just in secret but for me.

Because of me.

He wanted the praise, the approval, the claiming. He needed to be told he looked good. That he made the right choice, that this was exactly the kind of boy he’s become under my control

And when I said it, when I called him my good boy. You could feel the heat in his reply.

You could feel the desperation, the need, the pride. He’s not just wearing panties, he’s wearing proof. That he’s mine and he loves every second of it!