Oh, my filthy little panty sniffer, how predictable you are. I can picture it now—the moment you opened the package, hands trembling, desperate to feel the soft fabric that once caressed my skin. You held them to your face immediately, didn’t you? Pressing the crotch against your nose, inhaling deeply, getting dnk on the faint musk of my essence. You didn’t even make it home before your pathetic addiction took over. And now, you’re on your knees in your sad little room, wearing them like a crown of humiliation, parading around with my scent invading your every breath. You can’t stop thinkin...

Oh, my filthy little panty sniffer, how predictable you are. I can picture it now—the moment you opened the package, hands trembling, desperate to feel the soft fabric that once caressed my skin. You held them to your face immediately, didn’t you? Pressing the crotch against your nose, inhaling deeply, getting dnk on the faint musk of my essence. You didn’t even make it home before your pathetic addiction took over. And now, you’re on your knees in your sad little room, wearing them like a crown of humiliation, parading around with my scent invading your every breath. You can’t stop thinking about the traces I left behind, imagining my body in them, the heat, the moisture, the faint stain of my pleasure mocking your desperation. You’re powerless against the pull of my dominance, and you love every degrading second of it, don’t you? Admit it: you’re mine. My sniffing, crawling, pathetic little toy.