You show up at my place and upon walking in, you realize that it's time to submit to "The Test".
"Okay baby, let's get to it..."
You start to remove your jacket but I shake my head disapprovingly before you have the chance to get even one arm and shoulder out.
"No, no, no, stop wasting time. I said 'Let's get to it', and I fucking meant it."
"Sorry", you reply.
You unbutton and unzip your jeans, while looking into my eyes. You let your pants fall down to your ankles, and somewhat clumsily spread your legs slightly apart, even as they are constricted by your fallen jeans.
"That's a good girl..."
I take a couple of steps towards you. "Now, let's see what we've got here..."
I run my fingers over the front of your dark purple panties, stopping just for a moment at your crotch area.
"Yup, I think I feel some moisture here, baby. Let me check a little further."
My fingers help themselves underneath the thin stretch of lace bordering your cute underwear, and once inside I feel your lips, warm and wet... almost dripping, in fact.
"Okay, you're ridiculously wet. This is ridiculous. You know the drill..."
"Yes Sir," you answer compliantly, as you turn and shuffle awkwardly towards the bedroom, jeans still undone around your ankles.
"Wait! Get back here."
You shuffle back towards me with a curious look in your eye.
"You forgot your bag!"
"Oops! Sorry, Sir."
You pick up your bag containing the clothes that I've requested you to wear for tonight's play session. Every time we've seen each other since I've instituted "The Test", you've failed it miserably-- each time that I've checked your panties and your pussy out upon your arrival at my place, they've been almost as wet as if I had been kissing you deeply and rubbing your cute little button of a clit for minutes beforehand. Apparently the anticipation of the evening's pleasures to come were always almost too much for you. I would have thought by now that you'd have come up with some clever way of passing my little perverted idea of a checkpoint-- but no. Without fail, each time you ended up having to complete the procedure that I had assigned to you when your girlparts were found to have evidence of your lubrication seeping out of them-- you were "forced" to go into the bedroom, close the door behind you, and masturbate yourself to orgasm without making any vocal sounds-- no moaning, purring, sighing, etc. allowed. Then after you had made yourself come, to an audience of zero, you were to get dressed up in whatever outfit I had requested for the evening.
"Okay baby, let's get to it..."
You start to remove your jacket but I shake my head disapprovingly before you have the chance to get even one arm and shoulder out.
"No, no, no, stop wasting time. I said 'Let's get to it', and I fucking meant it."
"Sorry", you reply.
You unbutton and unzip your jeans, while looking into my eyes. You let your pants fall down to your ankles, and somewhat clumsily spread your legs slightly apart, even as they are constricted by your fallen jeans.
"That's a good girl..."
I take a couple of steps towards you. "Now, let's see what we've got here..."
I run my fingers over the front of your dark purple panties, stopping just for a moment at your crotch area.
"Yup, I think I feel some moisture here, baby. Let me check a little further."
My fingers help themselves underneath the thin stretch of lace bordering your cute underwear, and once inside I feel your lips, warm and wet... almost dripping, in fact.
"Okay, you're ridiculously wet. This is ridiculous. You know the drill..."
"Yes Sir," you answer compliantly, as you turn and shuffle awkwardly towards the bedroom, jeans still undone around your ankles.
"Wait! Get back here."
You shuffle back towards me with a curious look in your eye.
"You forgot your bag!"
"Oops! Sorry, Sir."
You pick up your bag containing the clothes that I've requested you to wear for tonight's play session. Every time we've seen each other since I've instituted "The Test", you've failed it miserably-- each time that I've checked your panties and your pussy out upon your arrival at my place, they've been almost as wet as if I had been kissing you deeply and rubbing your cute little button of a clit for minutes beforehand. Apparently the anticipation of the evening's pleasures to come were always almost too much for you. I would have thought by now that you'd have come up with some clever way of passing my little perverted idea of a checkpoint-- but no. Without fail, each time you ended up having to complete the procedure that I had assigned to you when your girlparts were found to have evidence of your lubrication seeping out of them-- you were "forced" to go into the bedroom, close the door behind you, and masturbate yourself to orgasm without making any vocal sounds-- no moaning, purring, sighing, etc. allowed. Then after you had made yourself come, to an audience of zero, you were to get dressed up in whatever outfit I had requested for the evening.
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