I was 19 years old when I was first commanded to wear panties.

My commander was my mostly vanilla sex-friend. I had known her since a freshman in high school. We used to go out, and now life was taking us in different directions. Sad, but not entirely so. We liked each other too much to just throw it away. So, we opened up the relationship, and we would see each other from time to time.

She knew what I was into. We had talked about it for the last four years, and she had always been a bit too modest for it. She was the tall, thin, blonde, and very pretty soccer player from an upper middle-class family. I was a loutish, working class, and roughish teenage boy….though inside of me was a long-haired, poetry writing sadboi, who would have given up his scholarships just to serve beneath the heel of a woman.

But now we were both getting older and more adventurous. She told me she wanted to try something.

She told me to get on my knees as I watch. I did so. She begins playing with herself. I remember her making such perfect music, her voice her movements…and me on the ground, just looking at her beautiful lower body.

She finishes explosively. She rests for a second. She slips off the wet, dark blue panties.

And she tells me to put them on.

I tell you no lie, I kept them on for the next two days. Took them to work, wore them under my factory job clothes. I loved the feeling. It made me feel cocky.

To this day, I love the feel of being marked with the essence of a goddess.

I love it when her panties are the conduit.