Boss of My Panties Read online

  Boss of My Panties

  S.E. Law

  Contents

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  About This Book

  1. Katie

  2. Bruce

  3. Katie

  4. Bruce

  5. Katie

  6. Bruce

  7. Katie

  8. Bruce

  9. Katie

  10. Bruce

  11. Katie

  12. Bruce

  13. Katie

  14. Bruce

  15. Katie

  16. Bruce

  17. Katie

  18. Bruce

  19. Katie

  20. Bruce

  21. Katie

  22. Bruce

  23. Katie

  Epilogue

  Also by S.E. Law

  About the Author

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  About This Book

  I sell lingerie on line, just tiny little scraps of lace.

  And now, my boss wants more than just my panties.

  I like to call myself an entrepreneur. Most of the kids I went to high school with went off to college, but I stayed behind and started my own business selling lingerie.

  But not just any lingerie.

  I sell scraps of lace so naughty that they would make your cheeks blush. See-through, filmy, and so tiny that they’re not much more than a piece of floss sometimes.

  Not just that, but the lingerie isn’t exactly new.

  Because I’ve worn them, and the buyers are looking for that “special something” as part of the sale.

  It’s not wrong.

  It’s not against the law.

  It’s just smart and entrepreneurial, is what I like to say.

  But then he shows up on the scene. Bruce Lockhart says he wants to buy my business. What? Why would a man want to get into this line of work?

  But the boss wants what he wants, and now that he’s literally OWNS my panties, how can I say no?

  In this book you’ll find:

  A drop-dead gorgeous CEO

  A sassy curvy girl

  Over-the-top filth

  Insta-love that moves faster than lightning

  Lingerie, lingerie, and more lingerie

  50k words

  1

  Katie

  Wow, did those red panties really just sell for five hundred dollars? I think to myself. For a moment, I stare at the listing, blinking slowly and waiting for the number to change. I expect a zero to vanish. After all, $50 seems a little more reasonable, all things considered. Let’s not forget that I’m selling panties.

  My panties, no less.

  I grab my pen, click it by pressing the butt against my thumb, and jot down a couple of notes.

  Apparently, red panties yield even more money than black ones. Who would have known? But I guess it makes sense. Red has always been a scandalous color – the color of seduction. For whatever reason, it has the power to spark naughtiness in even the most innocent of characters.

  With a grin on my face, I sip from my mug, enjoying the taste of Earl Gray tea sweetened with a hint of honey. Mmm, there’s nothing like a good cup of tea.

  I lean back in my chair and close my eyes.

  And to think, most of my high school classmates are probably wasting their summers going to the beach while here I am, tucked away in my home office, making over $10,000 a month. While they’re off at college spending money, I’ll be here raking in the cash.

  You see, I’m an entrepreneur, first and foremost. And despite being young, I have business sense built into me – practically flowing through my blood.

  Just a few months ago, I turned eighteen. Then, a few weeks later, I graduated from high school – valedictorian of my class. Most people were surprised to hear that I wasn’t going to some fancy Ivy League institution. I mean, I got into some great schools, but realistically, spending all of that money on a degree, getting into debt, and earning next to nothing upon graduation seemed like a worthless investment to make – if I could dare call it that.

  So instead, I took the logical route and started my own business. I got the idea when I first ran across this website. Let’s just say I was perusing the darker side of the net. There, I found women’s underwear for sale, and not just the sexy kind, either. Everything. From thongs to granny panties. I kid you not.

  Look it up.

  Or better yet, look up my website: pantytime.com.

  But in this line of work, it’s important to stay anonymous. After all, I sell my used panties for a living. Do you know how many creeps would come knocking at my door if they knew exactly who I am and where I live? Trust me, it’s always best to keep your identity a secret in a situation like this.

  As a result, I’m going to be a teeny bit vague when talking about myself. I’m not proud of it, but I still bunk with my mom. She’s the only parent I’ve ever known. And yet, sometimes Meredith still feels like a stranger. Maybe it’s the fact that she’s a huge drunk. I mean, I can’t remember the last time she was sober. It’s that bad. Plus, she has this habit of using men. Every day, it’s a new dude splayed out on the couch, also wasted out of his mind.

  Try living with that, especially in a small apartment.

  There’s a reason why I locked myself in my room all the time growing up.

  But the flip side of having a mom like mine is that she’s totally on board when you tell her about your panty-selling idea.

  I still remember the conversation…

  It was a couple of months before graduation. I came home from my shitty retail job and shuffled into the kitchen, looking for something to eat. Of course, the pantry was empty and the fridge too. My mother, tasked with buying groceries that week, had once again neglected her duty.

  I sighed. With no other choice, I popped a couple of stale pieces of bread into the toaster and waited.

  As I tapped my foot, Meredith stumbled into the kitchen holding a bottle of cognac by the neck. There was a self-satisfied smirk on her face; the same smirk that always appeared whenever she was tipsy.

  “Hey, baby girl,” she cackled. “Want a sip?”

  “Mom, I’m eighteen, remember?”

  “I was drinking by the time I was sixteen,” she said airily.

  “Maybe that’s why you have a problem,” I answered under my breath as I grabbed the step stool and snatched a jar of peanut butter from the top shelf – my hidden stash because if I didn’t hide it, my mother would devour it in a day’s time.

  “Problem? I don’t have a problem!” she protested, her words slurring together.

  “Sure, okay.” Slowly, I slathered the peanut butter on the slightly burned toast. “Anyway, I have something to tell you.”

  “Oh?” Meredith slumped into a nearby chair, taking another swig of cognac. The bottle was nearly empty at this point, and it was only three in the afternoon.

  “I’m going to start a business,” I announced.

  There was no reply.

  “Mom,” I said loudly. “Did you hear me? I’m going to start a business.” This time, Meredith managed to lift her head and stare at me with bleary eyes.

  “Sounds great, baby. What kind of business?”

  I joined her at the table before taking a bite of my peanut butter sandwich.

  “Katie.” My mom leaned forward, her eyes bright. “What kind of business?” she repeated, forcing herself out of her stupor.

  I sighed. “Well, the idea is that I start this website where I’ll sell my panties – used.”

  My mother furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, her head slightly tilted to the side. “What? Why would you do that? Who would even buy that?”

  “I’ve done my research, and it’s a pretty lucrative market. Apparently, there are a bunch of guys who are willing to drop cash on used panties. I figure it’s an easy enough niche to get into.”

  Most moms would recoil with horror and shock, and tell you to stop this nonsense immediately. But not Meredith. Instead, her face broke out into a wide smile.

  “Hell yeah, Katie Kat, make that money any way that you can, girl!” She hiccupped. “But wait until you’re eighteen so that none of the pervs who buy your used panties get into trouble for buying something like that from an underage girl.”

  “Exactly,” I agreed with a nod. My mom and I were on the same wavelength for once. And so with my mother’s blessing and ‘wise words’ of advice, I set up my website and got everything prepared. Then on my birthday, all I had to do was click a few buttons, and my online business was up and running.

  Now, it’s booming.

  Seriously.

  Who knew there was such a demand for used panties?

  I stretch and put down my tea before getting up. Well, time to make another listing. I walk over to my drawer and sort through my lingerie. Red is my best seller so far, but I have yet to try an animal print. Maybe men are into cheetahs or leopards? It’s worth a shot.

  With a thong in hand, I step into the bathroom and undress. Slowly, I hook my thumbs around the waistband and hike the underwear along my legs. The triangle of fabric settles on my mound, fitting me perfectly. I adjust the straps so that they rest on my hips.

  Once I think everything is up to par, I move in front of the mirror just to make sure. I grin at my own reflection. I’ve never been one of those skinny minis, and honestly, I never want to be. I rather like the way I look. Curvy. The kind of girl with a lot to hold onto, if you know what I mean.

  I turn aroun
d. The thong disappears between my ass cheeks. Oh, the guys are going to love this.

  The grin on my face deepens.

  I turn on the beauty lights that surround my bathroom. Then I grab my camera and start to line up the shot. I have to be careful about this because I don’t want my face in the picture, but everything else is fair game. So I bend over, trying to find the perfect angle to make my ass look even bigger. I twist my body, one arm draped across my chest hiding my nipples to tease the viewer.

  When the photo shoot is over, I take off the panties. Ooh, this experience has me so wet, and a long string of fluid connects my pussy to the soaked crotch. Perfect. I snap another picture of the juicy nectar, and then place the panties in a velvet-lined box, and take a few more pictures. This is going to be gold. It’s dirty, I know, but men will pay astronomical prices for this kind of stuff.

  Once all that’s done and over with, I head back over to my computer and plug in my camera to transfer the files. Then begins the long and tedious process of editing the pictures and uploading them onto the site.

  After a while, the listing is complete, and I click ‘publish’ with an air of accomplishment.

  Within minutes, I get a few hits. The first bidder wagers a measly $5, but I know the price is about to skyrocket. The next bidder bets $20. I watch the numbers rise higher and higher. Oh yeah, this is going to be a good one.

  I lean back in my chair, a smirk playing on my lips.

  Just then, my phone buzzes with a notification. I pick it up and see my friend’s Alice’s name on the screen. Apparently, she’s just posted something on social media.

  Curious, I tap on the notification. A picture of her pops up. Alice is in a tiny room, sitting on a dirty mattress with a big smile on her face and a double thumbs up.

  Ah ha, so Alice has finally moved into her college dorm. Good for her. I comment on the post: Congratulations!

  The comment, however, feels a bit fake. After all, it’s unlikely that our friendship will last. She’ll meet a ton of people in college, and I’ll fade into the background. That’s just how the world works.

  In the meantime, I’ll build up my business.

  Sure, I could have gone to college like everyone else, but honestly, selling panties online is way more fun. Besides, there aren’t many people who can work in their pajamas and rake in a boatload of cash like I do – especially not at eighteen.

  Satisfied with my hard day’s work, I close my laptop and transition into my bed. There, I turn on the TV, flicking through the channels.

  I stop once I find the soap opera I’ve been watching. The plotline is completely ridiculous. Nothing that dramatic ever happens in real life, nor do people just bang out of the blue. But sometimes, it’s nice to imagine that such things can happen, even if they don’t happen to me.

  Hell, I wouldn’t mind bumping into a handsome stud and falling into bed with him. I’ve never really done that before, but I’m eager to try it out. Unfortunately, all of the guys from my high school were either douche bags, idiots, or both. I really didn’t have the mental bandwidth to deal with them.

  So yeah, I’ve been single for a while – or should I say my entire life? Technically, I shouldn’t feel bad. There are plenty of eighteen-year-old virgins, right? Still, that doesn’t help the fact that I’m itching to get under the sheets. Maybe it’s the nature of my work or the fact that my fingers just aren’t cutting it anymore.

  I sink deeper into my pillow and watch as the two main characters go at it. There’s sexy music playing in the background, setting the mood. Their hands don’t stop moving. She wraps her legs around his waist and locks her ankles together, making it impossible for him to escape. He kisses her neck and nips at the sensitive skin. Her moan echoes through the speakers as she tilts her head back in ecstasy.

  Damn.

  I wish that were me.

  With a sigh, I turn off the TV.

  Maybe in a few months, when I have enough money, I can hire a sexy male escort. Now wouldn’t that be fun? I smirk just thinking about it, my mind already traveling down the naughtiest avenues. Oh, the things we’d do together. I can only imagine.

  My hand slips underneath a fresh pair of panties. I start to rub one out, knowing that when I list this specific pair, I’ll need to capitalize on the fact that they’ll be absolutely saturated with my female juices. That’ll hike up the price for sure because men are such pervs.

  But if it weren’t for their depravity, I’d be out of business. So they can be as creepy as they want to be as long as my panties continue to sell like hotcakes.

  I won’t complain.

  And with that thought, I continue to finger myself faster and faster until finally, I reach the height of my bliss, my juices overflowing into the fabric of my panties.

  Perfect. It’s a job well done, and I smile sleepily before flipping over and turning out the lights.

  2

  Bruce

  It’s just another day at the office.

  I glance across my desk to where my personal assistant is sipping on his coffee, one leg crossed over the other. Jesse started with me a couple years ago, and although he’s young, he’s now one of the few people I trust in the world.

  “Find anything interesting this morning?”

  He shrugs.

  “A few items. Nothing too spectacular. The market’s down, Bruce. There’s no getting around it.”

  “There’s always a way,” I insist. To prove a point, I open the internet browser on my laptop and start doing a little digging of my own. After all, I didn’t become an entertainment industry mogul and the CEO of Lockhart Industries on luck alone. Grit, hard work, and skill all went into my success.

  With a keen eye, I scroll through countless Google searches, trying to find something worth tapping into.

  “I’m telling you, boss, there’s nothing worth buying.”

  “You just haven’t looked hard enough.” I roll up my sleeves and type a new set of keywords into the search bar.

  At its foundation, Lockhart Industries is a financing company. It takes the money of wealthy individuals and invests it in the stock market. Then, once that money makes a profit, the company takes a hefty cut of that profit and reinvests the remaining amount until the money snowballs into millions.

  It’s an easy and surefire way to become part of the one percent.

  But that has never been enough for me. With the company’s assets, I buy out other, smaller companies, usually in the entertainment industry. Realistically, I could invest in anything, but entertainment is my penchant. There’s just something about a good movie or a good book that piques my interest like nothing else. More specifically, I’m interested in adult entertainment, if you know what I mean.

  Finally, I stumble on something that looks rather interesting. Intrigued, I click on the link: pantytime.com.

  Bingo!

  “Look at this, Jesse.”

  I call my assistant over to check out a girl who sells her used panties online. “Damn, she’s hot as hell! Would you look at that ass?” I can’t help but wolf whistle at the screen.

  Eagerly, I click on the gallery of pictures. Each one seems to get better and better. Her ass is deliciously round and thick – the kind of ass that makes me want to spank it all night long, to mark it with my teeth, and then to bury my cock between those cheeks.

  Fuck.

  My shaft hardens, straining against the thin fabric of my dress pants. It absolutely throbs at the mere sight of this girl. “I’ve got to see this chick,” I breathe, my voice husky with lust. “I bet she’s fucking gorgeous. Too bad she’s careful to never show her face. I mean, that’s smart on her part, but it’s too bad for me.”