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The panty slut story of blackmailed panty sissy

Life as a Panty Slut

What does it mean for me to be a panty slut? It goes back a long time, when I first met
Mistress over ten years ago now. Back to when She first ensnared me into Her web and I
became helpless and weak for Her.

Looking back it is harder to see what I was then. It was Mistress that started the ball
rolling by having me steal a pair of my girlfriends dirty knickers from the laundry and
put them on.

She instantly saw what I was.

I obeyed with a little reluctance but once the panties were on me I lost a bit more of my
will along with my masculinity. Mistress laughed at me and I loved it. The more my face
burned red with the shame and humiliation the more Mistress loved it. I knew how much I
loved that sound, to see Her smile that I sank deeper into Her control.

One more brick in the wall between being a normal, regular person and the slave slut I
really was. I didn't have to wear the panties the first time and I was very relieved at
that: Little did I know that would be a short lived concession.

The next session they went on straight away. More dirty knickers. The dirtier the better
She said, as I was a panty slut the smellier the better.

I felt more at home in them that time. I watched Mistress and She weaved Her spell on me
some more. Before I knew it, I had to wear the panties to work. I was nervous but Mistress
was insistent.

I knew it was Her way or the highway. I could not let Mistress go. I did not want to be
banished from Her presence and so very very timidly, I gave in.

Another brick in the wall.

I wore the panties to work, terrified the whole time someone would see me for what I was,
a pathetic panty slut good only for wearing dirty smelly panties.

Mistress would text me during the day, randomly, to make sure I was wearing them. Every
time I would have a short time to send Her a picture so She could check. It was degrading
and very very humiliating.

I would come out of the work toilets flushed with shame. I'm sure it raised a few eyebrows
with my colleagues but I was sinking deeper and deeper with every day that passed.

So many days have passed now, every time I see Mistress I am pleased that She remarks on
how good my panties look. I have discovered my true slutty self and been moulded by Mistress.
So many pictures, so much time, She has me helplessly dangling on the end of Her line
captured and emasculated.

I am not really a man anymore, just a panty slut. A little bitch for Mistress' amusement
and I cannot now go back to what I was before. I don't even remember that person anymore.

I sit here now in my pretty, dirty panties and know truly what I am.

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