1/15/2012 - Photo

I like my panty collection… and it makes it that much sweeter, that much more blush worthy when Master tells me to -not- wear any <3 rolledtrousers: The good girls don’t wear panties, right? The ones that want to please oh so much, who are happy with their sexuality, who like to flirt with danger and risk a little, and push their limits a little.  I disagree. I think that’s the kind of thinking that’s kind of missing the point, in a way. I understand the appeal; who doesn’t like to remove all barriers to entry to such a wonderful little hole? But that’s kind of the point. Who. Exactly.  I’d rather not have that choice taken from me. More importantly, I’d rather not have that moment taken from me, where I get to peel them, or, perhaps even better, watch them being peeled away in front of me. That moment of revelation is something to be savoured. But that’s not the half of it. A pair of panties are a litmus test, a piece of evidence to be confiscated at any time, to be checked for signs of wrong doing. Or, the lack of signs that point to wrong doing. The flush on your cheeks, the way you stare at the ground as they’re held up to the light, that little dark patch showing up like cum under a blacklight… well, that’s also something to be savoured. 

I like my panty collection… and it makes it that much sweeter, that much more blush worthy when Master tells me to -not- wear any <3

rolledtrousers:

The good girls don’t wear panties, right? The ones that want to please oh so much, who are happy with their sexuality, who like to flirt with danger and risk a little, and push their limits a little. 

I disagree. I think that’s the kind of thinking that’s kind of missing the point, in a way. I understand the appeal; who doesn’t like to remove all barriers to entry to such a wonderful little hole? But that’s kind of the point. Who. Exactly. 

I’d rather not have that choice taken from me. More importantly, I’d rather not have that moment taken from me, where I get to peel them, or, perhaps even better, watch them being peeled away in front of me. That moment of revelation is something to be savoured.

But that’s not the half of it. A pair of panties are a litmus test, a piece of evidence to be confiscated at any time, to be checked for signs of wrong doing. Or, the lack of signs that point to wrong doing. The flush on your cheeks, the way you stare at the ground as they’re held up to the light, that little dark patch showing up like cum under a blacklight… well, that’s also something to be savoured. 

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