"I’m just worried that my oxygen supply might be cut off
as your ego creates a vacuum in the room. That’s all."
He could see my smirk, as I was watching him
hoping for a little reaction.
He sat there for what it seemed like an eternity,
letting it settle in the air
before he held out his hand.
My eyebrow arched expectantly,
as I narrowed my eyes at him,
suspicion over confusion.
I had to scream “What?”
when he caught me by surprised
and said “Your underwear”
His voice was casual, utterly assured
a touch too nonchalant
“Why do you want it for?”
He slowly shook his head
snapped his long thick fingers.
The sound made me jump. “Put them in my hand.
Say another word and I’ll make sure you’ll think of me
every time you sit for a week.”
The threat was loud and clear
the method was implied
it was enough for me to bite down my reply.
Still, I hesitated for another second or two
then the moment passed,
and my hands slid down my sides,
catching underneath the waistband,
before I pulled them down over my legs
and hand them over.
They were heavier than I’d like to admit,
the dampness giving them weight
delicately, I placed them in his hand
suddenly he was up, moving around
before his free hand went to my face,
finger and thumb digging into my cheeks,
forcing my mouth open.
My lips fell open, and the panties,
balled and damp,
stuffed, gagged, held
he forced them against the roof
of my mouth
with one thick finger.
Then he let go,
moving back to his seat,
picking up his book
my brow was furrowed,
I could feel the cotton and lace
expanding to fill the space
of its new home
I could taste myself.
One hand started to quest upwards,
to touch them, maybe remove...
“No. They stay there until I say so.
Once I think you’ve earned your voice back.”
picked up where he’d left