spankingtheatre:

An anonymous reader writes:

With butterflies in my tummy I climbed the stairs to my apartment, well
aware of what was waiting for me when I walked through the door.

It
sat innocuously in my bedroom. Polished wood gleaming in the last rays
of sun filtering through the windows. Upon its seat, four pillows, a ribbon and pair
of black lace fringed panties. If I was going to receive a stripe, I’d wanted to do it in style.

Cautiously I tip-toed
around the chair, nervous about doing the sit down dance. I took my time
undressing. Neatly hanging my work clothes in the closet. Eventually naked, and
resigned to my fate, I turned towards the chair and readied myself, pulling my black panties
snug against my slit, then taking my seat, and tying them firmly to the back of the chair.

The rules were to read the whole story, and take one cushion away each time I commenced a new part. Four parts, four pillows.

Removing the first
pillow, I relaxed back into the chair and began the introduction. My panties were tight against my
mound… but not unbearable. Perhaps this wouldn’t be as bad as I remembered.

Time
came for the second part. Panties snug against my bare slit, I squirmed
a bit. Color rising in my cheeks. At first I read casually.. but with
each little wiggle at the particularly salacious bits my panties were
tugged more firmly against my mound. My reading pace increased. A little
grin formed as Addison made her appearance, but soon my attentions
strayed back to the slowly increasing burn between my legs.

All
too quickly it was time for the third part. I whined to myself, now
reluctant to remove the next pillow. Chewing on my lip, I finally removed it, gasping as my panties were pulled tighter against my poor abused little
slit and bottom hole. I struggled not to move. It had now moved past
uncomfortable to painful. I read quickly, trying hard not to grind against
the cloth nestled roughly against my swollen clit. I was not convinced
increasing the burning ache of the stripe was quite worth the effort of
trying to rub my clit against the panties.

The
delicious scene with Penny soon appeared on my screen. My jaw hung loosely, I was nearly panting. I wanted to touch so, so badly.
I wanted to grind against the fabric until I came hard with my legs
wide open on the chair. But the stripe hurt. And I found myself doubting I’d be able make it through to the finale…

Keep reading

As I’ve sent a few naughty young ladies to the panty-pulling chair recently, I’m reminded of this wonderful reader reminiscence, which evocatively describes the experience of the sit-down dance, and its subsequent after-effects. Perhaps the curious might be tempted to try it themselves…