"Put them on," I tell him.
He shivers, fidgets, groans a little, and gives me pleading eyes.
I tap my foot. He's already wasted an hour of my time by being late, and I'm not impressed by the current dilly-dallying.
Well... my mind isn't, but my cunt is wet, dripping down my thighs beneath my skirt, in fact.
He finally drags them over his hips, starkly neon pink against his pale, pale skin.
Next, the black lace garter belt, and another long session of pleading with his eyes, his little whimpers of humiliation.
Finally, I hand him the black thigh-highs, and he bites his lip, face crimson in an agony of embarassment as he shifts his weight back and forth, .
My eyes are cold. "Stop fidgeting, and just be glad I was nice enough to leave the camera in the other room."
His head jerks up, eyes wide. "Yes, Miss," he whispers.
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