6 comments/ 141836 views/ 28 favorites Auntie’s Stocking Slave Ch. 01 By: MicheleNylons It was 1959 and I was eighteen years old. My mother and father had died over a year ago in a car crash and after spending six months in a foster home my Aunty Jean had taken me in as her ward. Aunty Jean was forty-five and quite an attractive woman for her age. Her body was a little on the large side but she had large creamy breasts and stunning legs for a woman her age. She worked in an office in the city and her work attire usually consisted of skirt, blouse, heels and hosiery; she dressed sophisticatedly and wore lots of makeup and perfume. She preferred tight pencil skirts; the hem resting just above her knees, and tight satin or silk blouses. She always wore hosiery and I was occasionally rewarded with a glimpse of stocking-top or welt as it is correctly known. She wore either taupe or grey nylons and, although they had recently gone out of fashion, she preferred fully-fashioned stockings with a back-seam. She also favoured high-heels; either strappy sandals or open-toe pumps. Aunty Jean's makeup was always perfect: lashings of black eyeliner, mascara and multi-hued eyeshadow set off her sparkling hazel eyes. Her cheeks were rouged to enhance her high cheek-bones and she wore ruby-red lipstick on her full sensuous lips. She painted her fingernails and toenails with nailpolish to match the colour of her lipstick. Her pretty face was framed by a jet-black bob, which some of her friends jealously insisted was dyed. She wore exotic perfume which seemed to envelop her in a cloud wherever she went. She stood five-foot six-inches tall in her heels and was voluptuous rather than fat. To me she was stunning. My mother had worn dowdy shapeless house-dresses, flat shoes and only wore hosiery when going out somewhere special or to church. To my mind, Aunty Jean was very exotic and sensual and I was fascinated by her. She seemed a little aloof and I had overheard her say to a friend that she didn't really want me staying with her but she felt obliged to help me as I was her sister's son. It was no secret that once I had finished college she expected me to move out. Aunty preferred it if I kept to myself and not get under her feet. We saw each other at meals and I was allowed to watch one hour's television with her on weeknights. On weekends I sometimes accompanied her to church or to a friend's house for tea. I had a small room upstairs at the back of the house where I spent most of my time studying or reading books. I didn't have many friends at my new college but I had always been a loner anyway. Being an eighteen-year-old boy my hormones were seething and my thoughts constantly drifted to sex and I had a semi-permanent erection. My favourite pastime was masturbation and whilst exploring my aunt's house I had discovered a cache of fashion magazines. The lingerie section of the magazines contained glossy pictures of attractive mature women posing in underwear and they provided me with visual stimuli during my masturbatory sessions. I would take a magazine from the stack that my aunt kept in a drawer in her bedroom, and once I had exhausted my masturbatory fantasies over the models in that particular edition, I would exchange it for another. It was during this period that I discovered the delights of the laundry basket in the bathroom I shared with Aunty Jean. During what I refer to as my indoctrination period Aunty Jean explained to me the 'house-rules'; that is, the rules that I would be required to obey during my stay with her. She explained to me that I was to fold my clothes at the end of the day and place them in the laundry basket each evening prior to retiring. Twice-weekly she would wash and iron our clothes and leave my freshly laundered clothing folded at the foot of my bed. One evening, not long after I started borrowing my Aunt's fashion magazines, I was placing my dirty college uniform in the laundry basket when an item sitting on the top of the other soiled clothing caught my attention. It was a pair of black silk panties. I had seen pictures of ladies modelling panties like these in my aunt's fashion magazines and found them fascinating. I carefully lifted the garment out of the laundry basket and was immediately captivated by the sumptuous feel of the flimsy garment. The delicate material was luxurious; soft and cool to touch, and so transparent that I could see my fingers through the dark silk. I held up the panties and scrutinised them. The panties were full-cut, the back and front panels delicately sewn together at the sides, which were quite wide, and the gusset was reinforced with a second layer of the dark silken material. A tiny patch of white crust, which I guessed was my Auntie's vaginal discharge, clung to the gusset. I lifted the panties to my face and inhaled; traces of my Aunt's exotic perfume, combined with the underlying scent of her sex, invaded my nostrils. I rubbed the garment across my cheek and I felt an erection begin to grow in my shorts. I freed my turgid member from the confines of my shorts and draped the garment over my shaft and felt the most wondrous sensations flow through my body as the cool silk slid along my shaft and the bulbous glans of my penis. After a few strokes I climaxed, shooting streams of hot ejaculate over the bathroom floor. I became light-headed with the intensity of my orgasm and I almost passed out. When I recovered from my climax I was horrified to discover that a few tendrils of my semen had soaked into the black silken panties. I did my best to blot up the incriminating fluid before it could dry and then carefully returned them back to the laundry basket, trying to position them just how I had found them. I cleaned up the bathroom floor and vowed never again to commit such a foolish act. Of course I was making promises that I could not keep; my natural teenage curiosity and constant state of sexual arousal constantly led me back to the laundry basket to discover what silken delights lay therein. I was very careful to return the objects of my obsession exactly as I found them and also tried my hardest to keep my seminal fluids from staining the delicate garments when I used them to stimulate me during masturbation. The next turn of events occurred one evening when I went to take a shower. As I pulled back the shower-curtain and stepped into the bath one of Auntie's stockings fluttered down from where it was hanging on the curtain-rail to dry and alighted on my naked body. I shuddered with delight as the slinky nylon slid across my sensitive skin. Cautiously I removed the stocking from my body and examined the delicate piece of hosiery. The long garment was cut to the shape of the leg it was designed to encase and sewn together with a back-seam. The toe and heel sections of the stocking were reinforced with darker nylon. The majority of the stocking was made of flesh-toned sheer nylon with a darker two-inch band near the top, which I had leaned from the fashion magazines was called a 'shadow welt' and above that was the larger reinforced stocking-top, called the welt. This band of reinforced nylon at the top of the stocking was constructed of doubled over nylon with a 'keyhole' near the base of the welt. In antique script the word 'Aristoc' was printed on the dark nylon welt. The appearance and texture of the garment was fascinating; I rubbed it against my cheek and, as expected, my member began to thicken. I rubbed the gossamer hosiery over my body until ultimately I slid it over my now fully erect penis. I shuddered with excitement and stroked my erection, now sheathed in the diaphanous stocking, and with my other hand I caressed my scrotum which I had encased in the remainder of the stocking. Needless to say that in a few seconds a ball of white semen formed in the material of the stocking as I ejaculated into it. After a few seconds of absolute terror when I realised that I had just soiled my Aunt's stocking with my ejaculate and had probably put a ladder in it too, I stopped panicking and closely inspected the stocking and discovered that other than slightly distending the nylon where I had stretched it over my penis it was not damaged. I carefully rinsed the garment and patted it dry with my towel and hung it up next to its companion. I scrutinised the stockings hanging on the curtain rail with a critical eye and could not distinguish any dissimilarity between them. I breathed a sigh of relief and made a vow then and there that I would never be so foolish again. I kept the vow for three whole days. I was becoming acutely aware that my fascination with my Auntie's lingerie was filling most of my waking hours. At college I daydreamed of mature women dressed in sensuous lingerie and often made excuses to visit the boys-room so I could relieve myself. At home I would lie on the carpet pretending to watch television whilst peeking at Aunt Jean's legs. I particularly liked it when she wore her open-toe high-heels and I could look at her red-painted toenail encased in the dark reinforced toe of her stocking or when she kicked off her heels and the aroma of her feet drifted across to my nostrils. I would stare at her hosiery clad legs, following the shape of her legs from her toes up to just above her knees where her magnificent gams disappeared under the hem of her skirt. Sometimes she would bend down and run her hands along her legs to remove the wrinkles from her stockings and straighten the seams, and my cock would pulse as I pressed it firmly into the carpet. She once fell asleep curled up on the lounge and her skirt rode up so that I could see the welts of her stockings framed by the edge of her navy-blue skirt. She stirred and a glimpse of her creamy white thighs and the lacy hem of her satin slip came into view. Unconsciously she reached down to pull down the hem of her skirt but in doing so I was rewarded with a peek of nearly transparent white nylon knicker crotch; her dark pubic hair curled against the translucent gusset of her panty. I raced upstairs and relieved myself while the image was still fresh in my mind. It was the weekend, and as usual on Sunday morning, my Aunt Jean went to church. She didn't insist that I attend church with her, although she did invite me to accompany her, more out of courtesy than any particular desire for my company. I politely declined and retired to my room after breakfast. As soon as I heard Aunty Jean leave the house I stripped off my clothes and lay on my bed; I slipped my hand under the mattress and extracted the well-thumbed copy of one of my Aunt's fashion mags and opened it to the lingerie section. I slowly improved my growing erection as I stared with fascination at the photographs of the mature women modelling the lingerie. Images of the heavily made-up and elegantly coiffured women wearing pointy cupped brassieres, satin basques, bustieres, nylon stockings clipped to lacy suspender belts, and satin slips, fuelled my masturbatory fantasies as I whiled away the time. I knew that my Aunt would be gone for at least three hours and I was in no rush to climax. After nearly half an hour of desultory stroking I needed to urinate and I put the magazine aside and walked naked to the bathroom; my slowly deflating erection leading the way. As I urinated into the toilet bowl my curiosity was peaked by an item of clothing in the laundry basket. A pair of nearly transparent knickers was hanging over the edge of the basket. I flicked the last drips of my urine into the bowl and walked over to the basket. The flimsy white panties looked exactly like the ones I had seen under my Aunt's skirt a couple of evenings ago. I did some mental math and figured out that it was probably the same pair, as she was not due to wash our laundry until this afternoon; and the last washday had been the day before I was rewarded with the panty-peek. With trembling hands I removed the garment from the wash-basket and put them to my nose. The scent of my Aunt's perfume and vaginal juices assaulted my nasal passages and my cock sprang to attention. I recalled my vows to stop playing with my Aunt's intimates but the temptation was just too much. I looked into the hamper and saw a black satin suspender belt trimmed with red lace, and I carefully removed it, noting its position in the hamper so that I knew where to put it back from where I found it. Sure enough, two pairs of fully-fashioned stockings hung over the shower-curtain rail to dry. I carefully removed a pair of smoky-grey stockings and added them to my illicit cache. I padded back to my bedroom; my heart thundering in my chest. I opened the magazine to a page which showed a picture of a woman modelling panties, hose and suspenders and propped it on the pillow. Then I lay the panties out in the middle of the bed and arranged the garter-belt above the panties and threaded the garter-straps through the leg-holes. I carefully clipped the stocking welts to the clips at the bottom of the garter-straps, straightened out the stockings, and admired my handiwork. I had arranged the lingerie on the bed exactly as it was worn by the model in the magazine. I carefully climbed onto the bed and knelt over the lingerie until my cock was positioned over the front panel of the panties and I slowly lowered my body. I sank down until I was lying on the bed with my cock against the material of the panties and my legs against the material of the nylons. It felt magnificent; the translucent nylon panties caressed my cock whilst the sheer nylons slid against my legs. I slowly humped the bed whilst alternatively looking at the pictures in the magazine and conjuring up the image of my Auntie's panty-covered pubis. Whilst this arrangement was satisfactory for a while, my insistent humping soon moved the panties and hose away from my body and I was no longer experiencing the desired effect. Frustrated with my efforts I decided that the only way I was going to get satisfaction would be to masturbate directly into the lingerie. Throwing caution to the wind I lay on my bed with my erection pointing up at the ceiling. I slid one of Auntie's stockings over my cock and lifted her panties to my face. I slowly stroked my penis, exhilarated by the feel of the silky nylon against my cock whilst inhaling the scent of perfume and vaginal discharge that clung to the panties. I tried turning over so that I could look at the pictures in the magazine while I masturbated put this proved impossible, so I sat on the edge of the bed with Auntie's stocking wrapped around my cock and her panties over my head so that I could sniff and lick at the crotch and still look at the magazine through the leg-holes of the panties. I was oblivious to the world as my body reacted to the sensual feel of Auntie's intimates against my cock and face and the taste and smell of her perfume and her sex. I was slowly stroking my penis, trying to delay my orgasm, when the door to my bedroom suddenly flew open and Aunty Jean walked purposely into the room. I looked up to see her seething with anger; her legs apart and her hands on her hips; her stance representative of her incensed rage. "You dirty little boy!!!" she hissed. I nearly jumped out of my skin and my heart flew into my mouth as I ripped her panties from my face and flung them on the bed. I sat there red-faced with embarrassment and shame as my penis slowly deflated inside her stocking. "I guessed you were responsible for the disgusting stains that I've been finding in my underwear; I suppose you are the culprit who's been stealing my fashion magazines too!" she scalded. I nodded meekly; my head bowed so that I wouldn't have to look her in the eye. "Look at me boy! Answer me!" she demanded. I looked up and nodded at her submissively. I was acutely aware of my nakedness and of the items of her intimate apparel scattered on my bed and I thought I would die with embarrassment. I stared at my Aunt standing there tapping her foot in fury; and took in her appearance. She was wearing a navy-blue suit; the hem of her pencil skirt resting just above her knees and the jacket open to reveal a lilac satin blouse. Her legs were as far apart as the skirt would allow, and one foot was placed slightly in front of the other. The hem of her of her skirt was stretched taut just above her knees as she impatiently tapped her foot. Her legs were encased in taupe nylons which glittered in the morning sun peeking through my bedroom window and her feet were shod in black high-heeled sandals; her painted toenails just perceptible through the dark reinforced toes of her stockings. Because her hands were placed defiantly on her hips; her jacket was pulled open and the buttons on her satin blouse strained around her heavy breasts; the red lace of her bra peeked through open buttons of her blouse. Her long elegant neck was graced by a gold necklace and she wore gold drop-earrings to match. On her fingers, gold rings set with precious stones drew attention to her long red fingernails. Auntie's face was elegantly framed by her black bob. Her eyes glittered with anger, highlighted by her black eyeliner and mascara, and her pink and green eyeshadow. Her rouged cheeks were further reddened with indignation and her ruby-red lipsticked lips were pulled back from her teeth in a sneer. Despite the mortification I felt at my current predicament, I thought she looked sumptuous. "I should throw you out into the street you little pervert!' she snarled and strutted purposely into the room, her heels clacking on the wooden floorboards; a cloud of exotic perfume preceding her. She stood in front of me seething with rage and then she lashed out and slapped me across the face; the smack echoed across the room; my face stung and my ears began to ring. "Look at this mess; you've ruined a pair of my best sheers and I don't know if I will ever be able to wear those knickers again; knowing what you've been doing with them!" "You just make me so angry; you ungrateful little wretch!" she said; stopping to take a breath. "I'm sorry," I whispered, my head lowered. "Sorry! Sorry! You little twerp; I'll show you sorry." With that she my grabbed me by the scalp and pulled me up off the bed; the stocking that had been draped over my now limp penis fluttered down to the floor. Aunty sat down on the edge of the bed and growled. "Get yourself over my knees young man!" "If your behaviour does not warrant a good spanking; then I don't know what does!" she said. "Aunty; you can't be serious?" I whined. "I'm eighteen years old, for God's sake!" "Don't blaspheme in my house you little bastard! You should be ashamed of yourself," she snapped. "I take you in because no one else wants you; and this how you reward me. You defile my underwear and steal my magazines!" "Get yourself over my knees and take your punishment, you naughty boy!" I now felt not only humiliated; I also felt dejected. My Aunt had always inferred that she was doing me a favour by taking me as her ward, but to say that no one else wanted me! I felt rejected and unloved. I resigned myself to accepting my punishment; what else could I do? I lay across my Auntie's lap feeling vulnerable and shamed. Aunty Jean roughly re-positioned me so that my bottom was where she could effectively spank it; without any hesitation she struck my bare buttocks with the palm of her hand. The slap echoed through the tiny bedroom and I cried out in pain. My buttocks burned and I could feel them redden. "This is what happens to naughty little boys!" Aunty Jean said and bought her hand back down on my bare buttocks again. She began to spank me in earnest and my buttocks began to sting as each blow intensified the pain. I wriggled in her lap; trying to move my buttocks away from her hand before she could strike me again. Auntie’s Stocking Slave Ch. 01 "Keep still and take your punishment you little bugger!" Aunty Jean said. She pushed my buttocks back down onto her lap and adjusted her sitting position on the bed so that she could get a better swing to continue the spanking. She had opened her legs slightly and my struggles had caused her skirt to ride up her thighs. Just before her hand came down I realised that my penis was now resting against her thigh. I could feel the coarse material of her skirt on the underside of my penis and it was not unpleasant. Then her hand came down on my buttocks and the pain returned. As she raised her had to strike me again I felt the hem of her skirt slide away from underneath my penis and my member now rested against the cool silky material of her stocking. To my amazement, despite the burning pain in my rear, my penis began to stiffen. My Aunt's movements and my own struggles caused my penis to rub against her sheer nylons. My Aunt became aware of the situation as my penis became fully erect and she increased the intensity of the spanking. "Oh you little pervert: I'll teach you how to behave if I have to make your bottom red for a fortnight!" she said and began to lay into me. As the ferocity of the spanking increased my Aunt kept trying to hold me down and I kept struggling. She slammed her legs closed resulting in my penis being trapped between her thighs. Conflicting sensations surged through my body. On one hand, my behind was burning with pain; but on the other my penis was rubbing against my Auntie's nylon-encased thighs, the gossamer material stimulating my shaft and glans. Her legs were soft and warm and her perfume assailed my senses. Her satin blouse hissed and rustled against her jacket as she spanked away adding to the stimuli as my cock rubbed on her hosiery and my bottom burned. "You naughty boy! Naughty boy!" she screamed as she flailed away at my buttocks with her open hand. The movements of her body as she spanked me only increased the stimulation as her thighs opened and closed on my engorged member. Despite the assault on my backside I began to rise and fall in anticipation of each smack humping my Aunt's legs. The sensations of her nylons slithering against my cock as she briefly trapped my turgid member between her thighs each time her hand fell to my buttocks increasingly stimulated me until I felt my orgasm approaching. Before my Aunt had returned home unexpectedly I had been masturbating for over an hour, bringing myself to the edge of climax, but holding back relief. Now my penis would have none of that; it craved release and I could feel my scrotum contract in anticipation of my pending ejaculation. "Please stop Auntie," I begged. My cock was leaking pre-seminal fluid and I couldn't understand why Aunty Jean couldn't feel the slippery liquid leaking onto her thighs; surely she must understand what was happening, but she didn't seem to care. She was too engrossed in meeting out my punishment. "I'll stop when you are well and truly punished," she replied; and continued to flail away at my sore bottom. I couldn't hold back any longer; despite the searing pain in my buttocks the friction on my cock against Auntie's stocking-sheathed thighs sent me over the edge into a paroxysm of orgasmic pleasure. My body quivered as my scrotum contracted and I ejaculated streams of hot semen; even as my Aunt spanked my tender backside. The release was something unimaginable; the most intense orgasm of my life wracked my body. Streams of ejaculate splashed over my Aunt's thighs and dribbled down her legs. I bent my head and watched the creamy fluid run in rivulets down Auntie's sheer stockings; the occasional spurt landing directly on her foot, the milky juice dribbled into her black high-heeled sandals. "Oh you naughty, dirty, little ingrate!" she screamed when she realised what was happening. She violently pushed my body off her lap and abruptly stood up. The last of my spend spurted onto the floor as I lay panting on the floor. "You filthy little boy!" she hissed, and poked me in the ribs with the pointy toe of her shoe. I crawled to my knees and looked up at my Aunty. She was holding her skirt up and away from her legs so that it would not get stained by my issue. I could see globules of my semen on the shadow-welt of her stockings. Even as I watched, one of the globules began to run down her leg, her taupe stockings turned a darker shade of brown where they absorbed my sperm. Little drops of my semen pooled on her leather sandal straps and soaked into her nylon-sheathed toes. I looked up and caught a glimpse of red satin panty under her raised skirt and then looked at her face. My Aunty was livid with rage. "You can bloody well clean your mess off me!" she hissed and poked me with her toe again. I turned to crawl away; my bottom burning and sore. I intended to go to the bathroom to get a warm damp cloth to clean her legs. "On no you don't! You made this mess you can clean it up right now!" she demanded. "I'm not going to stand here holding up my skirt all day just to keep it from getting stained by your disgusting mess!" "I'll get a towel," I cringed. "Bugger the towel you dirty little pervert; use your tongue!" she replied. I was incredulous! Did she really mean for me to lick my own semen from her legs and feet. The look on her face confirmed my fears. "Get on with it!" she demanded. I tentatively bowed my head and looked at the creamy gelatinous mess on her feet. I stuck out my tongue and hesitantly licked at my cooling semen. Being a teenage boy, I had of course tasted my own semen before; but this was different. Besides the fusty taste of my semen I also tasted my Aunt's perfume, the odour of her feet and traces of the fabric softener that she used on her delicates. The taste was not unpleasant, and after cleaning her feet I used my tongue to trace the rivulets of semen that had run down her legs; working my way up slowly until I got to the shadow-welts of her stockings. The further I moved my tongue up her legs, the stronger the scent of her perfume. By the time I had cleaned my sperm off both of her legs I had become sexually aroused again. Aunty Jean sniggered and dropped the hem of her skirt; she pushed me away with her foot. Still kneeling I looked up at her. "I don't know if I can let you live here any longer after this deplorable incident," she said. "But I tell you one thing; while I consider your future there are going to be some new rules in this house young man." "To begin with, you can clean the floor in here and then wash the sheets and than my knickers and stockings. There is no way I'm going to touch them after the disgusting things you've been doing with them," she sneered, pointing accusingly at her stockings and panties lying on my bed and floor. "You can start cleaning the floor right now," she commanded. "Crawl out of here and go and get some cleaning gear; then you can strip the bed and wash the sheets." "After that I will oversee you as you wash my underwear and nylons; I don't want you ruining them!" she said. I crawled toward the bedroom door and just before I left the room I glanced back at my Aunty Jean. Incredulously she had a wry smile on her face. To be continued........... Auntie’s Stocking Slave Ch. 02 I crawled out the door and, still naked, I made my way down to the laundry to get a mop and bucket. After filling the bucket with warm soapy water I returned upstairs to my bedroom to find that my Aunty had gone. She had left me a note; it read: 'Wear this.........AND ONLY THIS!!! After you have completed your chores stand in the corner facing the wall and wait!' The note was pinned to a white satin apron, edged with lace. Underneath the apron was a set of clean sheets. I balked at the idea of wearing the apron but after recent events, and the possible consequences that could ensue, who was I to disobey my Auntie? I tied the little apron around my waist just below my navel; the hem of the apron rested on the top of my thighs, it was a very immodest garment. That said; the cool satin and lace felt very sensual against my bare skin. My bottom still stung from my recent spanking and I was tempted to turn the apron around so that the smooth satin would cool my buttocks. I went to work and mopped the floor, removing my drying semen from the floorboards. I mopped the entire room just to make sure I kept my Auntie happy. I collected Auntie's panties, hose and suspender belt and put them on the dresser and then I stripped and remade the bed with the clean sheets. I took the soiled sheets down to the laundry. It was strange walking around the house naked except for the apron. After I had turned on the washing machine and washed out the mop and bucket I returned to my room and stood in the corner facing the wall as per my instructions. I could hear Aunty Jean moving around downstairs; I could hear the click-clack of her high heels whenever she walked on any of the wooden or tiled floors. It seemed like I was standing in the corner for hours but it was hard to say because I had no idea of the time. The shadows in the room became longer as time passed. Then I heard the click of Auntie's heels on the stairs and I began to tremble in anticipation. I'm not sure if I was disappointed or relieved when she went to her own bedroom instead of mine. After about fifteen minutes I heard her footfalls approaching and I tensed in anticipation. Her heels clicked on the boards as she entered the room. "Come here young man!" she ordered. I walked over with my head bowed to where she was standing next to the bed. "Lift your head," she ordered. I lifted my head and Auntie's exotic perfume filled my nostrils. She had touched up her makeup; her cheeks were freshly rouged, her black mascara, black eyeliner, and green and pink eyeshadow set off her hazel eyes; her lips glistened with a fresh application of ruby-red lipstick. Her jet-black bob had just been brushed; her hair was lustrous, the highlights glistened. Her fringe rested just above her brows and the nape rested just above her shoulders. A gold necklace glittered on her neck and matching earrings peeked through the nape of her hair. My eyes followed her delicate neck and took in the rest of her body. She was wearing a mauve satin blouse, decorated with ruffles, displaying her ample décolletage. The blouse was tucked into a white duchess satin classic style pencil skirt which hugged her curves perfectly ending just below the knee, showing just enough calf to show off her flesh-toned sheer seamed stockings. The skirt had decorative gathers at the front; and back-seams, which accentuated her figure. Her stockinged legs ended in white high-heeled court-shoes. On her right ankle a small gold chain glittered. As usual she looked and smelled magnificent. "How do I look?" she asked. I gulped. "Lovely Aunty," I whispered my reply. "Yes; well; after the mess you made on my church clothes this morning I had to change," she explained sternly. She produced a black leather dog-collar and held it out at arm's length. "Come here you naughty boy; I think we need to keep you on a leash until I have taught you how to behave." I stepped forward and allowed her to put the collar around my neck; she fastened it tightly and then she clipped a long leather leash to the ring on the collar. "Hold out your hands and show me your fingernails," she ordered and I complied. "Hmm; just as I thought, they're filthy and your fingernails are ragged; there is no way you are touching my delicates with those hands." She pulled on the leash and I obediently followed her out of the room and down the hall. My eyes ogled her ample bottom and long, nylon-sheathed legs. She led me into the bathroom where she made me wash my hands repeatedly until she was happy with the results then she picked up a pair of nail-clippers and an emery board and led me back to my bedroom. "Sit!" she commanded. I sat on the bed and she had me hold out my hands and carefully clipped each of my fingernails and sanded them smooth. "That's how you are to keep your fingernails and toenails from now on. I of course have no intention of touching your disgusting feet; you can do your toenails yourself later." "Now; pick up those panties, stockings and suspenders, I'm going to show you how to wash them. I picked up the panties, stockings and suspenders that I had been using to masturbate and noticed that Aunty had added the semen stained stockings that she had been wearing when she spanked me. Silvery trails of wet semen glittered on the nylon. Aunty Jean led me downstairs to the laundry by my leash; again my eyes were locked on her backside and legs. When we arrived in the laundry she unclipped the leash and had me put the lingerie on the sorting table. "You will always wash my lingerie separate to any other clothing and you will separate each item and always hand-wash them in warm soapy water," she explained. "Here are your instructions," she pointed to a sheet of paper she had pinned to the wall above the laundry tub. It Read: Separate stockings from lingerie. Hand-wash each piece of lingerie separately in lukewarm water, rinse and hang up to dry. Stockings require special treatment; follow the instructions below EXACTLY!!! 1. Perspiration is an enemy to silk and nylon so it's important to wash my silk or nylon stockings as soon as possible after each wearing. 2. Check your fingernails before you launder stockings or a thread may snag and start a ladder. 3. Using lukewarm water make rich suds with mild soap. 4. Turn the stockings inside out and immerse them in the suds. 5. Never rub soap on the stockings. Dip them up and down in the water slowly to avoid unnecessary stretching. 6. Extract water by gently squeezing stockings from the top down. Do not slide your hands down the stockings; lightly squeeze them. 7. Rinse them several times in lukewarm water until there's no trace of soap left. Extract water after each rinse by squeezing gently. 8. Stretch the stockings gently into shape and hang, feet down, over a smooth rod to dry, away from heat. "Do you understand?" she asked, after I had read the instructions. "Yes Aunty," I replied meekly. "Well you better young man; any items that are laddered, discoloured or misshapen will result in a severe spanking and then you will recompense me from your allowance." I nodded again. "Get started and I will supervise you just this once," she said, and stood back, arms folded. With trembling hands I carefully separated the garments from the pile and laid them out individually on the sorting table. The first item I picked up was the pair of nearly transparent white nylon knickers that I had placed over my head. "Hold them up," Aunty said, and I held them up to the light. "Those disgusting silvery stains that you see on the front panel are dribbles from your repulsive penis; the thin crust in the gusset is the result of my natural secretions." "You will notice that these panties have no cotton gusset so you will have to be very careful when you wash them." I lowered the diaphanous knickers into the lukewarm water and carefully washed them. My fresh semen stains washed away quickly but I had to spend a few minutes carefully rubbing the material of the crotch area. Aunty Jean stood close beside me and showed me how to rub the delicate nylon in order to remove the crust made by her vaginal discharge. Her ruby-red fingernails were clearly visible through the translucent nylon and the smell of her perfume was very strong. Despite my best efforts, the proximity of her body, the smell of her perfume and the slippery feel of her soapy panties began to take effect and my penis began to swell under my apron. I pressed my lower body against the laundry tub but that didn't help. If anything it made matters worse as the cool silk of my apron rubbed against my growing erection. I rinsed the panties and hung them on the clothes-line in the basement laundry; painfully aware that I was tenting the front of my apron. Aunty either didn't notice or deliberately didn't comment. Next I washed and hung up the suspender belt and then changed the water in the tub. I followed the instructions down to the letter as I washed out the two pairs of stockings. Aunty Jean watched me intently and scolded me if it looked like I was going to transgress. The closeness of her body, her scent, and the feel of her flimsy stockings in my hands as I washed them would not permit my semi-erection to subside. I was glad when I had finished and Aunty attached the leash to my collar and led me back upstairs to my bedroom where once again I was forced to stand in the corner and await her return. She returned to my room a few minutes later. "Turn around and face me you pervert!" she ordered. Aunty stood there, her legs spread wide, the hem of her skirt stretched taught just below her knees. She was carrying a bamboo cane, which she swished menacingly through the air as she spoke. "I have tried to teach you some self-discipline but it seems you are going to take a lot of training," she said. "Look at the mess you have made on your apron!" I looked down and guiltily saw the wet patch at the front of my apron where pre-seminal fluid had leaked from my penis when I had been washing my Auntie's underwear. "I'm sorry Aunty; it's just that you are so beautiful, you smell wonderful, and touching your intimate clothing arouses me so much," I whimpered. "Well tell me something I don't know; silly!" she replied. "I understand that teenage boys get excited easily and I suppose I'm somewhat flattered that my mere presence can produce an erection; but you need to be trained to produce an erection only when I think it's appropriate." She finished. My ears pricked up; what did she mean by: 'when I think it's appropriate'? I didn't get much time to ponder this question because Aunty proceeded. "Bend over you naughty boy!" I nervously bent over and awaited what I knew was coming. My bare white buttocks, still tinged a shade of pink from my previous spanking, were presented to my Aunt. I heard the swish of the cane as it whisked through the air and then the slap of the bamboo against my bare skin. My buttocks immediately began to sting like someone had placed hot coals on them and I howled with pain. My eyes watered and tears ran down my cheeks and fell onto the floor. "There, there, Nephew. You've had your punishment so stop crying and Auntie will give you a little treat," she said. I muffled my sobs and stood upright; my buttocks still burning with pain. "This how it will work from now on; if you disobey me, or you cannot control your urges you will be punished; each time a little more severely. If you are a good boy you will be rewarded. Do you understand?" I nodded my compliance. "Now back to your corner and wait!" she said, and spun on her heels and strode out of the room, leaving me with the miasma of her perfume and the mental picture of her swaying hips, ample behind, and long stocking-sheathed, legs. I went back to the corner filled with trepidation and anticipation. What was to be my treat? Would it be something that I liked or was she just teasing me before punishing me again. I waited in the corner; my buttocks blazing. In contrast; the silky apron caressed my thighs and I had to concentrate to prevent another erection. I could hear my Aunt moving around in her bedroom, opening and closing drawers, and the clicks and clacks of her high-heels. After what seemed like an eternity she came back into my bedroom, pulled on my leash, and led me across the room. I kept my head bowed but I heard the springs of my mattress creak as she sat down on my bed. "Stand here in front of me," Aunty said, pulling on my leash. "I have a little present for you. What I have here is a called a cocquette and you will be required to wear it at all times unless I permit otherwise." "This includes when you are wearing trousers either inside or outside of the house; do you understand?" I nodded; keeping my head bowed. "It is obvious that you are going to keep staining your apron, so the cocquette is designed to keep your revolting discharges from staining your apron or your underwear," she explained. "Now look here while I show you how to fit it and explain how it works." I looked at the article that my Aunt held in her fingers. I was a little puzzled at first; but then I realised what it was. It was a black fully-fashioned nylon stocking that had a white silk ribbon threaded through the welt; the ends of the ribbon fluttered out of the keyhole. "You see how this works; the cocquette will fit over your penis and absorb any secretions. You will need to change it at least once a day I expect, as a filthy little boy like you will be unable to control your urges." "After I have fitted the cocquette to you; I will give you the matching stocking and a ribbon and you will make up a second cocquette for yourself. You may take it off only to use the bathroom and when you bathe. Do you understand boy?" Again I nodded my compliance; but I was fascinated by the cocquette. Aunty pulled my head down and unclipped the leash. "Lift your apron and stand still!" Auntie Jean commanded. I stood before my Auntie, looking down as I lifted the apron to expose my loins. Looking down over the apron I could see my Auntie's skirt stretched tight around her legs; the classic satin pencil skirt had ridden up to just above her knees and hugged the curves of her thighs. The white material of the skirt set off her flesh-toned nylons and matched her white high-heeled courts. I could just make out the reinforced toe of her nylons peeking from the top of her white leather courts. The mauve satin blouse framed her ample décolletage and I could see the frilly edge of a black brassiere. As her perfume cloyed at my nose the same effect as before began to take place and my penis began to harden. "Hmmm; I guessed this would happen but its ok this time; whenever you put on your cocquette you will need to place it over your erect penis so that it fits properly." I nodded as my face flushed with embarrassment and excitement. "Ok; you slide the cocquette over your penis like so, ensuring that your scrotum is encased by the welt; and then you tighten the ribbon by pulling the ends through the keyhole and tying a nice neat bow." I nearly fainted with excitement as my Aunty slid the delicate stocking over my manhood and tied the ribbon firmly under my scrotum. "See its doing its job already," Auntie smiled as a dribble of pre-seminal fluid darkened the nylon. "See how the cocquette soaks up your mess," she grinned and took hold of my stocking-sheathed cock and bent it upwards for me to see. My cock convulsed and I was so close to climax that I was breathing heavily and a sweat broke out on my brow. The feel of my Auntie's fingers delicately caressing the shaft of my penis was exhilarating; she ran a ruby ruby-red fingernail down the length of my shaft, slowly torturing me, as waves of pleasure flickered through my penis. "Oh God; Auntie," I groaned. She flicked the glans of my penis with her fingernail. "I've told you not to blaspheme!" she said; but her amusement at my discomfort was evident. "Are you uncomfortable nephew?" she giggled. "I'm so close to coming Auntie; I don't know if I can control it," I implored. "See! That's why you have to wear the cocquette; because you can't control yourself!" she laughed. "I'll tell you what nephew; if you clean up your mess immediately and wash your cocquette straight after and make up a new cocquette to wear; I'll let you have some relief. How's that for a nice present from your Auntie?" she grinned. "Oh puleeese!!! Yesssssssssss!!!" I hissed; barely able to contain myself. Aunty Jean slid her fingers around my stocking-encased cock and slowly stroked my shaft and glans. As her fingers slid over my glans it felt like butterflies were fluttering their wings on the delicate nerves of my frenulum. She stroked me like that exactly three times before my cocquette flooded with semen. Aunty diligently milked me of my seed, dribbles of sperm escaped the toe of the stocking-sheath that covered my pulsating penis and ran down her fingers. Small white globules of my spend stuck to her fingers and coated the gold rings that she wore. My knees almost buckled as I gasped in ecstasy as I trembled with the intensity of my orgasm. "See; Auntie's skirt and nylons are staying nice and clean because the cocquette is containing most of your mess." "Now clean my fingers boy; just as you promised you would. As my orgasm subsided, Auntie Jean raised her fingers to my face and I tentatively licked away my semen off her fingers. It tasted musky and slightly salty; but I didn't care; I was still enveloped in a haze of post-orgasmic bliss. "Get it all, boy," Auntie sniggered as she forced her fingers into my mouth. I licked and sucked on her fingers until they were spotlessly clean. Auntie pushed me firmly away from her. "Now; make your way down to the laundry and wash out your cocquette and your apron. When you have hung them to dry you may come back to your room and make up the other cocquette and put it on. There will also be another apron for you to wear." "You are then to do your homework and later you may join me in the lounge to watch the Sunday night movie." "Do you understand?" Auntie barked and smacked me lightly on the thigh with the cane. "Yes Aunty Jean," I answered obediently. "Good!" she said and stood up, smoothed her skirt, and walked out of my bedroom. About twenty minutes later I climbed back up the stairs, barefoot and naked except for my dog-collar, having washed my cocquette and apron. As I approached my room I heard a strange noise coming from Auntie's bedroom. Cautiously I approached the door and peeked through the gap between the hinges of the door and the doorframe. Auntie was sitting at her dressing table and I could see her reflection in the mirror. She had her skirt hiked up, the dark welts of her stockings framed the crotch of her red satin panties; the gusset of which she had pulled to one side as she stroked her clitoris and the lips of her labia. Suddenly her head snapped around in the direction of the door and I quickly but silently padded down the hall to my bedroom to find the matching stocking for my cocquette, a white silk ribbon and a black satin apron with white lace edging, lying on my bed. Beside them lay the nail-clippers and the emery board. I clipped my toenails and then smoothed them with the emery board. I diligently threaded the ribbon through the keyhole in the welt of the stocking and then went to the bathroom where I urinated and cleaned my sticky penis. I returned to my room and slid on my cocquette and tied the ribbon in neat bow under my scrotum as instructed. Then I tied my apron around my waist and tried to concentrate on doing my homework. Auntie’s Stocking Slave Ch. 02 The silence was punctuated only by little grunts and sighs emanating from Aunty Jean's bedroom. To be continued... Auntie’s Stocking Slave Ch. 03 After I had finished my homework I came downstairs for dinner. It felt strange sitting at the table dressed in only in my apron and my cocquette. Aunty Jean was still dressed in her mauve satin blouse and white duchess satin classic-style, pencil skirt, flesh-toned sheer seamed stockings and white high-heeled court-shoes. She had refreshed her perfume before dinner and her scent was delicious. My buttocks still stung a little and the cold vinyl of the dinning room chair against my buttocks did nothing to ease the pain. Aunty said very little during the meal and when we had finished eating she pointed at the dishes and pots and pans. "Wash and dry this lot and then you may join me in the lounge for an hour's TV," she said. I scrubbed the pots and pans and washed the tableware and carefully dried each item before returning them to their proper place in the cupboards and drawers. Throughout my chores I couldn't get the mental picture out of my head of my Auntie sitting in the chair in her bedroom masturbating. I had to concentrate on the matters in hand to stop myself from becoming constantly hard. I lifted my apron and saw that the end of my cocquette was damp with pre-seminal fluid; lucky for me the cocquette was doing its job and my apron was not stained. I entered the lounge to find that Aunty Jean had turned out the lights; the room was lit only by the soft glow of the television, and Aunty Jean was sitting on the lounge having kicked off her high-heels; they lay on the floor beside the couch. "Sit here!" she said, pointing to a spot on the floor directly in front of her. "You can do a couple of chores whilst you watch television," she said sternly. I sat on the carpet facing the TV with my back to the couch. "First; you can clean my shoes," she said. I made to rise and my Auntie reached out and clipped me across the ear. "Where do you think you're going you silly boy?" she asked. "To get some shoe cleaning materials," I answered shyly. "You idiot; you have all the cleaning materials you need right here!" she spat. I was dumbfounded! What could she mean? All I had was my apron and I'm sure she would not let me clean her shoes with that! I thought about it for a few seconds as my Auntie looked me with a quizzical look on her face. Then it dawned on me; and as my face set in consternation she smiled. I picked up one of her white courts and bought it to my face. The smell of my Auntie's feet and perfume assaulted my nose and my cock jumped under my apron. I tentatively stuck out my tongue and licked at the shiny white leather on the top of the shoe. "Well maybe you aren't such an idiot after all," she said disdainfully and turned her face back towards the TV. "Don't look at me; watch the TV while you clean my shoes!" Aunty punctuated her statement with another clip across my ear. I watched the television as I licked and slathered at her high-heels, completely cleaning one and then the other. Her shoes tasted of leather, foot-odour, and a hint of her perfume; the taste was not totally repugnant. When I had finished Aunty Jean picked up her shoes and inspected them. "Not bad for a first effort," she said. "Now lean back a little and keep still while I use you as a pouf for my feet," she ordered. I sat cross legged on the floor, straightened my back and then leaned back slightly. Auntie lifted her feet and placed her ankles on my shoulders, using me as a foot rest. The smell of her feet was quite pungent and the feel of stocking-clad ankles on my shoulders was very sensual. She moved her feet around a little until she was comfortable, which had the effect of producing a raging erection under my apron. I was glad that the room was dark. We sat like that in silence for about fifteen minutes watching the television; Aunty occasionally adjusting the position of her legs. It was impossible for me to concentrate on the TV and I'm sure Aunty must have been aware of my discomfort. My apron was tented and I could feel my secretions leaking into my cocquette. The smell of Auntie's sweaty feet mixed with her perfume was overlaid with a scintilla of some other musky aroma. I had smelt that aroma before on her panties when I had stolen them to masturbate with. It was the smell of her vagina; the smell remained impregnated in her panties after she had masturbated in her bedroom and was wafting out from under her skirt. My cock was now throbbing and I was aching to take it in hand and bring myself to climax. I sneaked one of my hands under my apron, safe in the knowledge that Auntie couldn't see what I was doing with my back to her in the darkened room. I slid my fingers along my cocquette-covered penis and shivered with excitement. I breathed in the scent of Auntie's feet, perfume and vagina and revelled in the sensuous feel of her nylons on my bare skin. I began to slowly stroke my cock and my mind disappeared into a reverie of delight until suddenly Auntie screamed. "What the hell do you think you are doing!!!" she scalded. I jerked out of my reverie and whipped my hand out from under my apron. I turned my head to see my Auntie's beautiful face distorted with anger. "I have made it quite clear that you may only pleasure yourself when I give you my permission! One again you have disobeyed me!" I lowered my head in shame as Aunty removed her feet from my body and stood up, raising herself to her full height. From where I was sitting on the floor I would see her voluptuous body silhouetted by the light of the television. Her pencil skirt hugged her waist and thighs and the flesh-toned stockings encasing her lovely legs glowed luminously in the dark room. "Get on your hands and knees you naughty boy and prepare to receive your punishment," Aunty growled. I did as I was told. "Crawl over here!" I crawled towards her until I was at her feet on my hands and knees. Aunty reached down and picked up the bamboo cane, which she must have had lying beside her on the couch. I tensed in anticipation of the punishment that I was about to receive. "This is for disobeying me yet again," she said as the cane whistled through the air. The biting sting of the bamboo against my bare buttocks bought tears to my eyes. My bottom burned with searing pain. I had just recovered from the shock of the first stroke when I heard the foreboding whine of the bamboo cane before it walloped again on my tender rump. I knew that pleading or crying out would only further incense my Aunty so I screwed my eyes closed, clamped my lips shut and took my beating. Aunty meted out six good strokes of the cane and when she was finished my buttocks burned with renewed agony. Tears ran down my reddened cheeks and splashed on the floor. My erection had deflated and any feelings of sexual arousal I had was replaced by shame and misery. I lay prone on the floor whimpering at my Auntie's feet. "Now; clean my feet!" I put out my tongue and hesitantly licked at my Auntie's toes. The reinforced toe of her stocking was pungent with her foot odour. The taste was not disagreeable, rather a sweet musky smell; a combination of sweat, leather and perfume. Her stocking felt slippery against my tongue and I could discern the shape of her toes as I licked and slavered at her nylon-encased digits. Incredibly the burning pain in my buttocks did not prevent me from becoming aroused yet again. I heard Aunty gasp, and then she lifted her foot off the floor and rubbed it over my face. The feel of her nyloned foot on my face was exquisite and I lapped at it, running my tongue over the top of her foot and then her sole; finally licking the valley between her sole and her toes. My penis was rock hard under my apron and aching for release. I licked at my Auntie's foot until I had cleaned it to her satisfaction and then she lowered it and bought her other foot up to my face for me to service. Auntie's breathing was slow and deep and I could hear her panting over the background noise of the television. I cleaned her other foot, this time paying special attention to each of her toes, sucking on each digit until I had sopped up all traces of her foot odour. This part of my punishment was actually a treat for all of my senses. The smell of her feet mingled with the scent of her perfume and the faint bouquet of vaginal secretions that wafted down from under the hem of her skirt. The tang of foot odour combined with the fresh zest of her nylons tasted delightful and the shape of her elegant feet and her cute little toes, the red nails glimmering through the reinforced toe of her stockings, was a spectacle for my eyes. I cautiously licked along the back of her heel, relishing the feel of her foot against my cheek, and then licked further up her foot until my tongue was nuzzling her ankle. Auntie's breathing began to become heavier and she reached down and firmly wrapped her fingers in my hair. I though she was going to push me away for being so audacious but she didn't. Instead she spun around on her stocking feet and directed my face to the back of her leg. I licked the Cuban heel of her stocking and began to slowly follow the line of the back-seam with my tongue. Aunty shuddered and let go of my hair as soon as she was satisfied that I knew my task. As I slowly ran my tongue up the back of her leg the scent of perfume and sex intensified. I licked up her calf and spent some time caressing the back of her knee with my tongue. I traced the little wrinkles in the sheer nylon with my tongue and kissed her soft warm skin, my bottom still stinging from my punishment. Aunty Jean was now purring like a contented cat and as I wondered how far she was going to allow me to proceed, she answered me by opening her stance as much as the tight pencil skirt would allow. My neck was now being tickled by the hem of her skirt and my cock was throbbing. I moved my face further up her leg and my head began to disappear under her skirt. The bouquet of sex and perfume was very strong as my tongue followed the slightly coarse back-seam of her stocking. It was dark under the hem of her skirt but I could still make out the curve of her thigh and the shadow-welt near the top of her stocking. I could discern the darker ring of nylon indicating the start of the welt attached to the garter snaps, which glittered whenever the illumination of the television penetrated the darkness under her skirt. I was in a fugue of sexual excitement as my all of my senses were assaulted and I knew that my cocquette must be soaked with pre-seminal fluid. As I attempted to move may face further up my Auntie's leg she stopped me just as my tongue caressed the shadow welt of her stocking. She bent slightly and pushed my face down towards her other ankle. I understood her intent and began the slow sensuous journey up her other leg from her ankle to the welt of her stocking. Auntie was now shuddering and whimpering; making no attempt to disguise the pleasure she was receiving from my ministrations. When my face was level with the tops of her stockings, her skirt was stretched to its full extent and I could proceed no further unless she removed her skirt or raised the hem. I worshipped the welts of her stocking with my lips and tongue, not sure how to proceed. Aunty resolved the situation by bending over until her knees came to rest on the edge of the couch. She scrunched forward and kneeled on the couch; her voluptuous bottom rose up in the air. I scooted forward on my knees keeping my head under her skirt and my lips secured to her thighs. The hem of her skirt rose up her legs exposing her stocking tops and the tops of her milky white thighs above the welts. I licked and kissed the welts, exploring the clasps of her garter-snaps with my tongue and she began to whimper with pleasure. She reached behind and took her skirt in both of her hands and slowly raised the hem up her thighs and over her ample bottom exposing her full-cut red satin panties; the material straining against the swell of her buttocks. My penis trembled as Auntie reached back and with one plum-red fingernail pointed to the crease between her buttocks. "Here!" she moaned. I caressed the back of her thighs with my cheek, delighting in the change of texture from sheer nylon to soft creamy skin and my lips and tongue traced the very top of her stockings and then licked the velvety white skin at the top of her thighs. I continued on until my tongue encountered the lace on the leg of her satin panties. The rough texture of the lace was replaced by the cool slick satin panty material and I pressed my face into the crevice between my Auntie's buttocks and inhaled deeply. The scent of her sex was almost overpowering and I moaned in concert with my Aunt as I worshipped her buttocks with my face, tongue and lips. I dared to reach up and hold her thighs in my hands so that I could push my face against the soft pillows of her buttocks as my tongue explored the dark valley of her bottom. Aunty Jean indicated her consent by thrusting herself back against my face. I buried my tongue in the crease of her bottom and licked at her puckered sphincter through the soft satin panty. The smell of vaginal juices invaded my nostrils whilst the sweet tang of her anus tantalised my taste buds. The searing pain in my buttocks waned to a warm glow. I explored my Aunt's anal cleft with the tip of my tongue and dared to remove one hand from her thigh and hook my fingers under the leg of her panty. Receiving no rebuke, I pulled the satin panty across her buttock until her puckered sphincter was exposed. Aunty again reached back with her plum-red fingernail and pointed to the wrinkled opening of her anus. "Clean it!" she ordered, and I obediently licked at the puckered flesh. Aunty Jean wriggled in delight as I lapped at her dark hole; the tiniest scintilla faecal matter mingled with the taste of her sweat and perfume. I ran my tongue up and down the crease of her bottom; stopping to explore her anus with tip of my tongue occasionally, as my Auntie kneeled on the couch quivering with excitement. My own buttocks glowed and my penis throbbed inside my cocquette as my own excitement mounted. I yearned to take myself in hand; one or two strokes would bring release, but I dared not. Suddenly, Aunty Jean reached around and pushed my face away for her bottom. I was bitterly disappointed; but not for long. She spun around so that she was sitting on the lounge; her skirt hiked up to her waist; her black garter-belt and red satin panties fully exposed. I marvelled at the spectacle before me; my Aunt's suspender straps contrasted with the skin of her creamy thighs and the silver clips glittered where they connected to the dark welts of her stockings. Aunty Jean threw back her head and pointed a painted fingernail at the gusset of her panties. Her pubic mound stretched the satin panty so tight that I could see the silhouette of her labia. A small wet patch was evident on the material covering her sex and the pungent odour of vaginal secretions filled the room. "Now here; if you do a good enough job, I might grant you release!" Auntie whimpered. I couldn't believe that I was finally going to touch the object of my heart's desire; but before I could reflect any further on the matter, Aunty Jean took my head in her hands and, spreading her legs wide, pulled my face down into her crotch. The sensations I experienced as my nose disappeared in the soft fabric of her panty panel and my lips crushed against her satin-clad vulva were indescribable. I thought I would climax as my penis became so hard that it was painful. I ran my tongue along the ridges of my Auntie's vulva, tracing the outline of her labia as she shuddered and her juices flowed, soaking the panty gusset. I sucked up the delightful nectar; tasting my Aunty for the first time. Her fresh juice was sweeter than the musk that I had licked from her panties when I had masturbated with them, and I lapped at the tight gusset of her panties with renewed enthusiasm. "Awwww!!!!" she moaned, and impatiently pushed my head away from her crotch. She slid a finger under the gusset and pulled the material to one side exposing her wet pink labia, which opened like an exotic flower before me. Her juices glistened on the lips of her sex and small beads glistened on her pubic hair. I lowered my face and drank in the sweet syrup as my Auntie's other hand grasped my head and pushed my face hard against her sex. Aunty Jean wriggled and bucked on the lounge, holding her panties aside with one hand whilst the other pressed my face to her. She lifted her buttocks up off the lounge and lunged her hips forward in rhythm with my tongue. For the first time in my life I was touching a lady's sex organs and the experience was sublime. My cock was dribbling a constant stream of pre-seminal fluid and I could feel it dribbling from the end of my cocquette, soaking into my apron and dripping on my thighs. I knew that this would probably result in more punishment but I was past caring. My tongue found the hard nubbin of my Auntie's clitoris and she quivered in a paroxysm of pleasure. I suckled the tiny pink organ and my Aunt reacted by lifting her legs up over my shoulders and wrapped them around my back, pulling my face hard against her sex. Her legs drummed on my back and her nylons whispered as the diaphanous material chafed against my bare skin. "Oh God! I'm coming!" Auntie screamed into the darkened room; any imperative to blasphemy forgotten in the throes of lust. I lapped and suckled at my Aunt's sex, alternatively stimulating her clitoris and licking her labia. "There! There! There!" she commanded, and pushed her crotch hard into my face, directing my attention to her swollen clitty. I sucked, licked and nibbled Auntie Jean's clitoris as her orgasm built and then erupted. She took my head in both of her hands and crushed my face against her vulva as she shuddered and screamed as her orgasm washed over her. She locked her legs around my body and pulled me harder against her. I thought I might suffocate but I didn't stop attending to her; I licked, suckled and caressed her sex throughout the throes of her climax. At the peak of her orgasm she drummed her feet against my back and screamed out obscenities into the darkened room as she rode my face to the pinnacle of her pleasure. She slowly descended from the zenith of her orgasm and released her hold on my head. Her legs unlocked but remained draped over my shoulders and I began to moderate the attention I was paying to her with my mouth until she eventually reached down and pushed my face away from her crotch and distractedly pulled the soaking gusset of her panties back into place over her pubis. She lifted her legs off my shoulders and put her feet on my chest and pushed my body away from hers. She lifted her buttocks up off the couch and pulled down her wrinkled skirt, smoothing the hem around her thighs. Her breathing, which had been hard and erratic, was returning to normal. She looked at me, her makeup smeared and her pretty face aglow with post-coital flush framed by her black bob, which had become mussed; her fringe was damp with perspiration. "I suppose you may be good for something after all," she said sarcastically. "And now I suppose you want some sort of reward," she sneered, as she looked at the tent in the front of my apron. I didn't respond; but she could see the supplication on my face. "Ok; I suppose so. You're going to have to wash my clothes tonight anyway," she said resignedly. Without any further indication she reached out with her foot and lifted my apron and exposed my cocquette-clad erection. "You may take off your cocquette," she said, and I quickly complied. She placed one of her stocking-sheathed feet under the base of my penis, tickling my scrotal sac with her toes. I groaned as my scrotum constricted; a prelude to climax. She placed the sole of her other foot on top of my penis and pressed down, effectively milking me of my seed. Auntie’s Stocking Slave Ch. 03 My cock spasmed and convulsed as my Aunty stroked and squeezed me with her gossamer-encased feet. I almost collapsed with the intensity of the orgasm that engulfed me. I shuddered and moaned until the last drop of semen was squeezed from my cock. When I had ceased producing semen my Auntie took her feet from my groin and offered them to me. I knew what I had to do, and I licked every drop of the warm sticky substance from her feet. When she was satisfied, she took her feet away from my face. "I see your cocquette was not very effective in keeping you from staining your apron. I'll have to think of some other way," she said. "Now; to the laundry with you and I'll drop my clothes off to you so that you can wash them. Make sure you follow the instructions exactly or your punishment will be severe," she scalded. Aunty Jean picked up her high-heels and padded out of the room on her stocking feet, my eyes glued to her ample bottom. As if she somehow sensed that I was ogling her; she looked back over her shoulder and gave me a stern scowl and what may or may not have had the ghost of a smile. I spent the next few hours in the laundry carefully washing my Auntie's clothes, lingerie and stockings as per her written instructions. When she had dropped them off in the laundry she was freshly showered, her face clear of makeup, and she smelled of soap and shampoo. She wore a full-length dressing down. Without her sexy clothes, stockings, high-heels, makeup and perfume she was just another middle-aged woman. But I knew that I was looking at a goddess in disguise. I washed my cocquette and apron and replaced them with the ones I that had washed and hung to dry earlier in the day. As I lay awake in my bed late that night I knew that my life had changed forever. I wondered what other demands my Aunt was going to make of me; and what other forms of punishment she intended to meet out. To be continued....................