Aren't those my pants?

P's not big on underwear, not for himself anyway, I normally buy him M&S stuff, he says if they're good enough for Stuart Rose they're good enough for him. I actually doubt if Rose wears any of the clothes from his own store but that's beside the point. On the odd occasion, a while ago, when he did buy for himself he bought the more expensive silk boxers and micro skin trunks which sell individually, not the value 5-packs which I always get, I think he threw them, plus a couple of vests which he never wears, into the basket to camouflage the suspender and stockings he'd bought for me. He hates going to pay desks any time but with just a suspender and stockings lying starkly in his basket I'm sure he would have felt a bit pervy.

I appreciated him sourcing the suspender and stockings and have bought more since (actually I looked after Xmas but they didn't have any, I hope they're not discontinuing), there is something delicious about being told he wants to discuss a serious disciplinary matter with me followed by the words 'and make sure you're properly dressed.' To have to go to the trouble of putting them on knowing for sure I'm going to get spanked is pure joy, I'm sure I walk taller and with a pace when I'm wearing them, before and after spanking. Anyway there is a point to all this, bear with me, the underwear he got for himself were a little small, I told him I could get them changed for him but he said no they'd be okay. A couple of days later I wore his micro skin trunks to see if they'd shape my backside under my close fitting cotton skirt, it was all quite innocent but P saw me changing into jeans later and I told him I'd got his pants on and he gave me a couple of playful swats for not asking permission. Ooh, I saw an opportunity there and there have been many occasions since when I've failed to ask permission, it quickly became a signal between us, a nice way of being naughty.

So last week I was naughty, I had his too small boxers on, I tried several times during the day to quietly encourage him to discover me, but it was busy and he wasn't tuned in, and then in the evening at home he noticed the waistband pulled high and showing over my jeans, our son was in his room, P just asked 'Aren't those my pants' more of a statement than a question followed by 'Hmm.'

Friday morning he caught me by surprise and asked me why I'd worn his pants without permission the other day, I didn't have an answer, he asked me if the cat had got my tongue, I tried to look something like coy and still didn't answer, he told me he'd have to have a word with me later at the office, in fact he thought some discipline would be in order if I didn't have a satisfactory answer and he told me to dress appropriately, then he was off. An hour or so later a tall lady with a spring in her step turned up at the office, said her good mornings and got down to work, taking care to brush close by her husband on every possible occasion, bending to retrieve dormant bottom shelf files far too often and making shy eye contact. I had no idea how he could discipline me, it was far too busy and it would be far too noisy, at least if he did it right it would.

The frisson builds up in me, it doesn't take much to get me going, about mid afternoon I was making a hot drink when P came up behind me and placed his hand on my backside, ran it round an traced the line of my suspender under my skirt, he said he was pleased I'd been a good girl and dressed as instructed, unlike yesterday, and did I have an answer for him yet. He had the front of my skirt up and his fingers were stroking the tops of my stockings as I answered that I'd just been plain naughty, very naughty in fact. His hand moved around to the crotch of my panties which were damp, he slid inside them and mmm'd as his fingers worked around in my juices, I shoved my backside into his groin and told him he couldn't do what he was doing, and then I purred and he told me I must have a filthy mind to be in such a state of arousal and his fingers found just the spot they were looking for and rubbed harder and I just lost it and with an unseemly moan which god knows I could never explain to the next door office, I came, nearly knocking the kettle over as I jerked back into P. He removed his hand allowing my skirt to fall back into place, patted my bottom and told me he'd have a coffee too, and not to think I was off the hook. Phew, these little moments should happen more often.

Well I have to be honest, I didn't get the discipline, but I wasn't complaining.

Ronnie

xx