TracerBulletBilly: Captured by Panties

He swims up from darkness, head throbbing, eyes bleary, the stench of chloroform still in his nostrils. He's restrained somehow not sure by what but he can't move his arms, stumbling he's yanked along, his bare feet dragging along the linoleum until he can find his footing.

"Wha...?"

A hard voice answers from his right, "Best be quiet now."

They round a corner, the well lit clinical hallway stretches forever in front of him, white walls, white floor. His vision hasn't cleared, he can dimly make our a form at the end of the hallway, blocking the doorway, slender and feminine. He blinks, hard, trying to clear his vision.

His mind clears before his vision does. It all comes back to him in a rush of images. He moans, "Nooo ..."

The voice from his left answers, "Shhhhhh. Too late for that now."

It's taking forever to get down the hallway, his senses still not quite on line. Time dragging out. A Simon and Garfunkle tune comes unbidden ...

Time, time, time. See what's become of me ...

He remembers ...

He had been sitting at his usual spot on the playground, a bright sunny day, but cold. He's hunched in his jacket, hoping to catch a glimpse of MsGrace as she walks by, he hasn't seen her for days. He hopes she's OK, out and about, having fun. He's found that when She's happy he's happy.

A figure in a trench coat, wearing a gray fedora sits next to him, lights a cig and offers him one. He shakes his head no, he hates smoking. He doesn't talk much, he's the FNG, the fucking new guy and he knows his place. Tricks are always being played on him but they're gentle ones, fun. He knows he's starting to fit in, he hopes to one day be Hers, Her pet. He loves it here.

A buxom bimbo approaches. 'Nice gams' he thinks. She smiles and waves to him, coming closer. The dude next to him starts to rise, looking at him with the expression, didn't your parents teach you anything? There's a lady present! As he starts to rise the dude suddenly grabs his sweats and yanks down hard, 'pantsing' him. His Supergirl panties on display for all to see.

Face red, hearing the giggles he pulls his pants up. As he's doing so he feels a hard object press into his back. The bimbo is standing right in front of him, looking at him in a speculative way, head slightly tilted. All she says is, "They're on the list"

The object in his back presses harder making him wince. The voice behind him whispers, "Let's go to your place and discuss this." He starts to protest but the voice says, "My pal there will hurt you if you don't behave. Believe me she knows how. Now walk, we already know the way."

It's not far to his place. His mouth is dry and his mind is racing. What the heck is going on? What do these people want? He's trying to think of anything but keeps drawing a blank.

He's rudely shoved into his own house, escorted into his bedroom and motioned to sit on his bed. The broad is rummaging around in her purse but the Fedora dude is staring hard at him and says, "Where are the rest?"

He can barely speak his mouth so dry, "The rest of what?"

Fedora rolls his eyes, "The panties you thief! You're wearing a pair of Grace's panties, now where are the rest of them?!"

"These? I found them outside my door a few weeks ago, they ... they ... were just there. I um like Supergirl"

"Yeah, I've heard you mention it once or twice. Mind if I look around a bit?"

Before he can say a word Fedora is emptying drawers from his dresser onto the floor. When he empties the third one a pile of panties practically float to the floor. Fedora picks them up and hands them to the broad without saying a word. She pulls a computer sheet from her purse and starts comparing whatever is on it to the panties.

"They're all on the list but we're shy about thirty eight or so."

Fedora is not amused, "Where are the rest? It will go much smoother for you if you tell us where the rest are!"

"I don't know how those got there! I don't know what you're talking about you stupid ass!"

Fedora grins a shit eating grin, "You're very lucky. I've been told not to harm a hair on your head, not a scratch. Grace wants to talk to you. Now I may have been told these things but my partner hasn't," he cocks his head towards the broad, "shoot him."

He almost laughs when he sees the bimbo raise a squirt gun, until a cold chemical splashes across his lips, surprising him into inhaling. Darkness engulfs him...

His head snaps up, he's back in the now. He's about ten feet from her now and getting closer by the second, her hands casually resting against the door jambs, most of her weight on her right leg. She's in her black leather corset, black stockings and thigh high stiletto boots. She almost looks porcelain, her skin so white, further enhanced by her blood red lipstick. Her eyes are cold like flint. There's nothing playful about her, behind her is a candle lit dungeon, the flickering of a TV screen, strange devices lurk in the complicated shadows.

He feebly struggles against the straight jacket, realizing it and the Supergirl panties are all he's wearing. His eyes downcast, staring at the reflections coming off her boots. He can't meet her eyes.

"This is the thief?"

"Yeppers"

"How do you know?"

The bimbo reaches into her purse and tosses a pile of her panties at his feet, "They're all on the list, they all check out."

"Where are the rest?"

"He wont say"

She smirks at that, "Remove the straight jacket, we wont be needing it tonight."

He feels the straight jacket being unfastened, roughly removed. He starts to babble, "MsGrace ... I have no idea how those panties ended up in my room, I don't know what ..." She touches a leather clad finger gently to his lips, "Shhhhhh, we'll have lots and lots of time to talk." She looks at the two goons saying, "Wait here."

She takes him by the wrist and leads him into the room positioning him before the giant plasma TV. She whispers, "Kneel." He does, he's entranced with the images on the screen, they are well ... naughty. His hand goes to his panty covered crotch, he starts rubbing and pulling feeling his cock grow hard with want and need.

She watches for a few moments and then comes back with two devices in her hand, "Did I give you permission to play with My cock?" He feels the sharp bite of the stiletto heel in his back forcing him on his hands and knees as she giggles, "That's a good puppy. The device you feel me sliding into your ass is called an aneros. You will become very familiar with the sensations it induces in you."

She walks back in front of him, takes her boot and places it under his chin. He smells the leather, feels its softness against his lips. Without even realizing it he's kissing the boot, licking it. He hears her giggle and he moans very loudly as he feels the aneros press against his prostate as he's brought back into the kneeling position. His leaky cock is straining against the panties, he has got to touch it. His hand begins sliding towards it ...

"No, no, no, little boy" followed by that giggle. What's up with that giggle he wonders? It seems to be burrowing into his head. She's smiling gently, holding another device in front of him made of pink plastic. She begins to expertly disassemble it saying, "This is called a CB-2000 and will fit over your cock, keeping you from stroking. I guarantee it! Do you want me to put it on you puppy?"

He's frantically shaking his head no, "No, please no, I'll be good. I wont stroke Your cock without permission!"

Another giggle, "Goood boy! Now you watch your little show there and I'll be back in just a few minutes! Then we'll discuss why you stole my panties. Why you neeeded to do that." While she's staring into his eyes, MsGrace takes a boot toe and gently slides it up Her cock through the panties giggling as she feels it quiver and twitch through the soft leather. "And if you give Me a satisfactory answer I just may let you cum sweetie."

He can't focus and hardly notices out of the corner of his eye as she takes a pillow and something pink off a tray. His eyes locked onto the images on the screen, his mind lost in want and need for Her. He doesn't even notice the little moans escaping from his throat.

Grace emerges from the room and tosses a pillow at Friday's feet, "Kneel!" Her head snaps around as Tracer casually lights a cig. "No! Not in My house, I can't fucking stand it. Put it out!"

Tracer looks at her and calmly snuffs the cig out between his finger and thumb, "Apologies, my Lady."

Grace turns her attention back on Friday who's kneeling on the pillow, eyes down cast, face red. Grace holds in front of Friday's eyes a pink, leather collar, soft and supple. There's a little silver name tag on it, it reads:

Friday
Taken by Princess Grace

"Do you want this?"

"Yes, with all my heart," Friday whispers.

"Yes ... what?"

"Yes my Mistress"

MsGrace smiles very softly, "You know you can remove it whenever you want ... My pet," as she gently fastens the collar.

Friday whispers fiercely, "I never will! Not unless You request it of me."

MsGrace delivers a long, slow kiss and whispers, "I know ..." Still looking at Friday she straightens and says, "Now I want you to kneel here and listen to what's going on in this room. I want you to let your want and need for Me build as you hear that poor boy's moans and begging rise and fall. He wont be cumming for a long time, can you do that for me?"

Friday nods yes.

"Good Friday, good pet. Now I won't be in there that long and when I come out I'm going to take you into the adjoining room and take very, very good care of you. Will you wait for me?"

"Yes Mistress"

Grace seems startled to see Tracer standing there, "Tracer, you can go."

Tracer tips his fedora to her, turns and starts to leave. As he's heading down the hallway he glances back just as the door to the dungeon is closing, Friday on her knees waiting patiently out side. The image locks in his head. He's unsure of the symbolism, if there is any.

Tracer enters his office, opens the drawer to his desk and pours a large jigger of whiskey into his glass. He lights a cig and thinks about the case. He waits, he'll never get use to waiting, hates it but he will do it.

After a few hours he gets up and goes over to the cheap looking pine wall and presses three knots in a certain order. A small door pops opens. Friday didn't get all of the hotel dame's money, Tracer has used some of it for these types of modifications. He removes a pink envelope and a small suitcase. He places the suitcase on his desk and opens the envelope, it smells faintly of cotton candy. He reads the contents,

Steal My panties. Frame lbb

He places the letter back into the safe, locking it. He had received it a few weeks ago. Ever since his first furtive call to Her in September he's known he belongs to Her. He doesn't understand the letter, the why of it but it doesn't matter to him. The ways of the Mistresses have frequently confused him. They sit above him like moody angry gods, easily offended, not so easily pleased. He loves women, everything about them, but particularly their mystery, their uniqueness, their femininity.

Tracer tries hard not to fuck up, to please, particularly One. As time went by and he grew closer to Her other things began to matter less and less. He really doesn't care that much what other's think of him unless it reflects poorly on Her. He doesn't care if they think he's a stroker, a cross-dresser, a mama's boy, a pussy or an idiot. What matters is what She thinks, how She feels about him. He loves Her very much.

His head snaps up as he hears the far door in the hallway open. Hears the clicking swagger of Her walk heading down the hallway, the faint humming of I'm a little Teapot. He places the suitcase filled with Her panties, even the red ones, which he had laundered, next to him as he kneels on the floor.

Kneeling, he waits ... for his Mistress

I am TracerBulletBilly and I'm a dick ... Her dick.