#848) His Crisp, White Dress Shirt

I own a fairly extensive wardrobe, especially for a female with my limited means. Because I previously dated some wealthy gentlemen, who had ritzy social functions to attend and needed me to be their plus-one, their arm candy, I got lots of nice dresses and expensive shoes and extravagant lingerie. I don’t say this to brag, just stating a fact.
But the fact of the matter is that I feel both most comfortable and at my most sexy when I’m wearing one of Robert’s crisp, white dress shirts and nothing else.
It’s a lazy, leisurely Sunday afternoon. We have nothing planned, just a day to lounge around, goad him into seriously spanking me, fuck together, read together, munch on snacks together, frolic with spank-play, fuck together, bathe together, did I mention the spanking and fucking? There is a slight chill in the air this January day, and even though I like to keep the thermostat set at 73 degrees, I want a little something on, too. So, I get into Robert’s closet and pick out a crisp, white dress shirt to put on.
I love that it’s too big for me, which makes me feel all the more like his little girl, love that, even though it’s fresh from the laundry, I could swear that I still smell his scent on it. I read something somewhere saying that I’m “comfortable in my own skin, but never more secure than when in his apparel.” I relate to that.
Invariably, whenever I do this (almost every Sunday when we are at home), he will say, “Just be careful with that. That is my favorite dress shirt in my entire wardrobe…” It does not matter which one out of the many, nearly identical shirts hanging there that I choose, he’ll say the same thing.
I usually smile and say, “Yes, sir,” and find some way to thank him for making me feel so sexual and loved. But today, I also felt mischievous. So I smiled as he repeated this refrain, as I lifted the shirt tail in front, I think they call it the placate, and I wiped my lipsticked mouth with it, causing a big, red smear. (I purposefully did this way down low, so it would never show when tucked-in, if this stain did not come out in the laundry, which I was reasonably sure it would, but that was irrelevant.)
Robert got such a stern look on his face for my willful defiance, my rude disregard for the property of others, my pure bad girliness! My means achieved my ends, he took me by the wrist, returned us to our bed, and he spanked the living daylights out of my innocent, big, round bottom. It amazed me how much the tone of the moment can affect these things. He has spanked me harder in play, and I’ve laughed in response, but then, earlier today, when he was so righteously pissed-off, and lecturing me, and really getting into punishing all my wrongs, the spanking felt entirely different, so much more painful! I was made to profusely apologize for this “means to an end” to get my tail-end properly attended to. It was a really hard spanking, it was everything I needed and wanted, it left us panting and sweaty and, therefore, ruined his now-wrinkled shirt for another wearing before cleaning.
After I apologized to try to make it better, before we made love to make it all better, I had to play the minx just one more time.
“Gee,” I said, “I’m glad I didn’t go with my gut instinct. Instead of wiping my lipstick on your crisp, white dress shirt, I was seriously considering using the shirttail to reach back and wipe my ass…!”
My butt got another brisk set of spanks for that comment, but it was worth it. The resultant love-making was extra special, completely exhausting, so good! And I was super late in posting my first piece on this blog for the day.

6 responses to “#848) His Crisp, White Dress Shirt”

  1. Oh the deadly sin of bratting, crisp white shirts, and sharp tan lines, thrown in for a good measure, what a mix! Thank you, JM, for a lovely start this morning.

    I read somewhere that bratting essentially takes away consent from the Dom, giving him no choice but to punish. Now, imagine, if he would have more willpower and would send you writing lines instead, two hundred times of ‘I should not disrespect my Dom.’ But that would ruin a perfectly good story and a perfectly good morning, right?

    Liked by 2 people

    • I know me. I’d lay across his lap and tell him, “Write the lines on my ass, sir. Write them with a cane or whatever you please, as fluently as you please. Write them deep, fill the blackboard of my butt.”

      Liked by 1 person

  2. For me, about the most arousing lingerie a woman can wear is a man’s dress shirt. I have to admit, it’s even more appealing than a “birthday suit”. There’s just something about all the “good stuff” being hidden by the shirt and then there’s the extra effort it takes to get access to the “good stuff”. That extra effort is the icing on the cake, so-to-speak. Sure wish I had some icing to lick right about now…

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!

    “I feel … at my most sexy when I’m wearing one of Robert’s crisp, white dress shirts and nothing else.”

    Been saying it for years. Want to dress sexy for me – Wear my shirt! Forget the $350 bra, forget the $250 matching panties, forget the “How much?” peek-a-boo with a slit; anything forget them all – and wear my shirt. And like you, nothing else.*

    GF wore my dress shirt the morning after a black-tie event. She just threw it on to have something to wear when she finally came downstairs for her morning coffee. With my height and hers it went down to mid-thighs. And – my dress shits had studs! No buttons at the top, so I got little glimpses of titty, and nipple, and hard belly with those slender legs…!

    Drove me nuts.

    After a while I told her she looked so sexy – and she laughed at me. Told her I was going to fuck her, and nothing was going to stop me. She laughed, until I pushed her back and put my tongue on her “petals.” It was on!

    Pass the word.

    * “…and nothing else”
    Exceptions:
    Glasses.
    Fuck-me heels.
    An attitude; submissive or not, it doesn’t matter.

    Liked by 1 person

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