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Spanking Theatre

Spanking stories for the theatre between your ears

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panty pulling

Panty-pulling in bed

An anonymous reader writes:

I’ve devised a punishment based around your story, Punishment Panties,
and, as you’re the inspiration, I thought it only fair to tell you (and
to add to the humiliation of the punishment). Basically, I needed a
punishment that could be done while my roommates were home with my door
somewhat open for my pets – so, silent and relatively undetectable but
still very much a punishment.

This lead me to my current
predicament: lying back in bed, with my dress hitched up and
my blankets pulled up, ribbons looped into my panties and tied to my
headboard. The ribbons are just long enough that I can lie down but
doing so causes my panties to gather between the cheeks of my arse and,
the further down I wiggle, pull tight up against my slit.

Because
my punishment is for wasting my time on the internet (particularly on
the naughty side of tumblr) when I’m supposed to be doing work and
chores, I’ve been scrolling through my dash looking at all the naughty
posts but I’m not allowed to touch (not that I can, really, with how
tight my panties are currently). At the naughtiest posts, I get a little
squirmy and it pulls my panties tighter and increases the burning
between my thighs.

After I send this message, I’ll be allowed to
get up and untie my ribbons and pull my panties down. I’m going to do so
in front of the bathroom mirror, so I can see the little red stripe
that’s left.

Your stories never fail to inspire, thank you. 


An appropriate punishment, dear reader. And I hope the fact that your confession is going to be seen by thousands of readers will add further humiliation.

As you’ve already discovered, panty-pulling is an excellent punishment for those who lack sufficient privacy for a good spanking. A sore pink stripe between the legs rather than a sore pink bottom.

In a previous post I’ve described some other activities that you can perform discreetly. To these I’d also add the chastity belt, which can be worn under clothes in public. Having your mound and slit shaved completely bare is another act of self-discipline I encourage, providing a continuous reminder of your need for discipline every time you lower or raise your panties…

Why I went to work without wearing any panties

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…

Sometimes, when I punish a naughty young lady, I set her a task with a pen.

But writing lines is so dreary, a waste of precious time and imaginative energy.

A far better punishment, I’ve discovered, is to get her to draw her impending punishment.

Drawing Lines, if you will.

The young lady who drew this picture for me has since experienced the very panty-pulling her pen so painstakingly depicted. See if you can find the original image on this blog.

Just imagine being sent a picture and being told to trace it, knowing that what you were drawing was what you were about to experience for yourself…

Punishment Panties

spankingtheatre:

“On the whole human beings want to be good, but not too good, and not quite all the time.” – George Orwell


Alice wore her reins, every day.

She wore them to work under her elegant business suit. She wore them around the house under her jeans. She wore them whenever she went out, hidden beneath her pretty summer dress as she casually chatted with friends. She even wore her reins when she went to the gym, they were clearly visible whenever she undressed, yet no-one ever noticed. It was her kinky secret, hidden in plain sight, beyond the perception of all around her, as they busied themselves with towels, leotards, sprays and all the other paraphernalia of fitness.

Only He could see her reins, only He knew how to take them. He could control her with just one skillful hand. He could tug her, slowly increasing the force she felt, quickly silencing her bratty mouth until she was as still as a statue. He could tease her, slowly releasing his hold, feeling her squirm and longing for more, arching her back expectantly… until another firm tug brought a moan, and a reminder of who was really in charge.

That familiar soreness between her legs had been the sensation of discipline for as long as she could remember. It had begun with the appointment of Ms McGiven, an old-fashioned governess who’d brought with her some very old-fashioned methods of dealing with naughty girls. Goodness, it must have been fifteen years now since the first time.

We are the sum of our stories. And Alice could remember one particular story like yesterday. She thought of it often, retrieving it from her memory like a treasured relic, replaying it when drifting off to sleep with her fingers between her thighs, that one beautiful summer when Penny came to stay.

Keep reading

The alphabetical retrospective of stories reaches the perennially popular Punishment Panties.

This story began when I was thinking about reins – a familiar means of control for horses, but what would the equivalent device be for people who enjoyed sexual submissiveness? It would have to be something discreet, something that wouldn’t look out of place, which could be sternly tugged when a young lady misbehaved. A continuing reminder of her disciplinarian’s authority.

She would be disciplined through her very own panties, tugged tight between her tingling slit.

It was such a good pretext for a story, I felt it deserved some memorable characters, and the best way to establish them seemed to be an evocative backstory. Hence we’re introduced to two wilful young ladies, Alice and Penny, and their strict governess, and her own unique means of discipline.

The story grew from there, like all satisfying stories tend to do. The plot is non-linear, featuring dreams, fantasies, confessions and even a transcript. The joy of reading is to add new sights
to our mind’s eye, and through this tale you’ll witness intimate bottom inspections, bathtime
spankings, toilet predicaments, dressing up, public panty play and erotic jeopardy. Gifts of discrete
imagination, new treats to add to your personal fantasy collection.

It’s little wonder that at time of writing, Punishment Panties is still my most popular story.

What do you think?

Punishment Panties

littlemisssubshine:

Good friends are often hard to come by. When you find a friend who is willing to help you achieve your goals and dreams, that’s very special. I have a friend who helps me fulfill my cravings to be punished. Did I do anything to deserve it? Maybe. Does being naughty count? Maybe. Doesn’t really matter, does it? If I want it, need it, I deserve to be punished. And when the friend is creative, like @spankingtheatre is, then they find helpful ways to work around my no touch denial. Sir was kind enough to help me out.

Imagine, if you will, a chair. It’s a hard wooden chair, with a high back. Something you’d see in a farmhouse style house. Clean lines and simple design. Now imagine that chair has a book upon it. It’s a good sized book, a thick volume. And upon that book are two stacked pillow, chosen for their height and plushness.

A girl like me, one who feels like a naughty, undisciplined, and troublesome girl, sits on the pillows in her panties. Now, these aren’t ordinary panties, my friends. No siree. These are special. These panties are punishment panties. Now you might be asking, “Little Miss? What are punishment panties?” I’m glad you asked.

Punishment panties are what naughty girls wear when they are about to be strung up to hang by them.

A girl like me, one who feels like a rude, perverse, wayward little girl will sit on the pillows, bring a rope up both sides of the waist band of the back of her panties, and tie them to the back of the hard wooden chair. And she waits until she is instructed to remove one pillow.  Her weight will pull her downward, but her panties have nowhere to go. So they will go up her bottom and up her slit. And they will begin to feel sore and tight. She will sit there feeling quite contrite as she begins to squirm to try to release some of the pressure, but nothing will budge. Are you picturing it? Cruel but effective.

So I sat there, squirming, but trying to get some work done to refocus my mind. I felt penitent, but for what? Again, it didn’t matter, because I was enjoying feeling punished. The strangest part is when my clit began to throb, begging for attention. This was when the real punishment began. As if Sir knew it would happen, I was beginning to feel very very aroused without any outlet to touch myself. I was essentially hanging there, so there would be absolutely no moving and grinding against something. And he knew as well as I that I am trying out this no touch denial thing, so my hands were above the desk I sat at, clenching and unclenching to somehow give my mind a new focus. I was teased by him, as he suggested leaving me there to dangle as he went off to do something else, which had my clit pounding, feeling aroused by being spoken to this way.

When I thought that my sore body was finally adjusting, then kind, sadistic Sir had me remove pillow #2. And I sank down… I started to breath quickly, realizing my body was a bit rigid in an attempt to somehow alleviate the pressure. It hurt, beautifully. And I realized I shouldn’t shy away from this hurt, because I sure as hell couldn’t indulge in the pleasure. And I so dearly wanted to indulge, as I was aching to touch. So I let myself sit further down onto the book, my last little booster. I was ready to let myself adjust with this new lower position, to find a way to cope with it for as long as the first wait, but Sir did not like me sitting on a book. He scolded, “That’s no way to treat books, young lady! Remove it.”

If I thought that I had reached the limit of the pain, I was mistaken. This last drop down had me yelping as it began really tugging the front of my panties backwards now. I was sore and yet still throbbing in need, yet the pull of the panties didn’t feel good no matter how tight they were. I knew I would be marked up, my skin colored and creased. I tried my best to find enjoyment in the pain. Sometimes, when I focused on something else, I was able to forget that it was there. The soreness that was almost numbing. But soon Sir instructed me to release myself and show him his handiwork. I found that I was disappointed that it had ended so soon, but I felt good knowing I had a new fun way to play with pain.


Read about making your own panty-pulling chair here!

One of the great pleasures of running this blog has been getting to know wonderful individuals, and helping realise their long-cherished disciplinary dreams. There’s nothing more tragic than a highly sensual mind who craves the sensations of spanking and punishment, yet lacks the play partner to make vivid fantasies come true.

The original Punishment Panties story (and its sequel, The Sit-Down Dance) seems to have introduced many to arousing possibilities of erotic panty-pulling. Readers of this, @littlemisssubshine‘s evocative description of her very first sit-down dance, might well feel the desire to pull their own panties up a little tighter…

Watching from the back of class

An anonymous reader writes:

I have my own favorite variation of your latest self-spanking challenge.

I like to dress in my school uniform and report to the room I use as my home office. I knock on the door, and wait, my heart thumping as I imagine the stern voice of my teacher instructing me to enter the detention room.

I shuffle in, contritely, and see my chair has been prepared for me. A stack of cushions on the seat, and a shoelace tied to the back. Sir tells me to sit down in front of my desk. My laptop is open in front of me, along with a few blank sheets of paper and a pen.

I lift the back of my skirt, and obediently tie my panties to the back of the chair. Then I start playing the spanking video I’ve chosen. I like to pretend I’m at the back of the detention room, watching my classmates being spanked, whacked or caned before my turn arrives.

As I’ve been extremely naughty, I often get my panties pulled before my spanking. So I progressively remove the cushions, until I’m dangling painfully. In the meantime, I write lines, or a short essay. I’m supposed to be writing, not gawping at the events at the front of the class, head down with the smacks from the video echoing in my ears. Occasionally I do dare to look up at my laptop screen, hoping I won’t be noticed as I stare at the girls’ poor bottoms, now a delightful shade of pink.

Sometimes I queue several videos, so I can prolong my anticipation. But eventually, they end, and I know it’s my turn next. I release myself from the chair, and bend over my desk obediently. My skirt is lifted and my panties are pulled down, and I open my legs so Sir can inspect my sticky pink stripe.

I beg for mercy. But it’s my turn for a sore bottom, delivered by my wooden ruler or my slipper. Sometimes I read back what I’ve written, a spank after every two or three words, or every word if I need it hard. How exciting it is to know that every line I complete prolongs my spanking, and increases how sore I’ll be.

I’m sent to the corner afterwards, of course. Hands on my head so I’m not tempted to rub myself. That comes later, when I’m dismissed from detention, and sent back to my bedroom. The finale that follows is always worth the wait…


Thank you, dear reader, for this wonderful account.

You describe some wonderful ideas for playing. I like the notion of positioning your laptop ahead of you on the desk, so as you look up from writing your lines, you can see your classmates’ spankings.

Dangling from a panty-pulling chair is an excellent way to write lines. Those not so keen on that sensation could always pull down their panties and sit on their bare bottoms to write.

And I like the idea of reading your lines or your essay aloud as you’re punished. Setting the length of your spanking by how much you’ve managed to write is clever, one of the challenges of self-spanking is deciding how long it should be.

It just goes to show, with a bit of imagination, playtimes can be so much more than just masturbating to whatever arouses you. That was the intention of that challenge, and I commend your inventiveness. And I hope your suggestions will inspire those reading this to experiment, to find more exciting and fulfilling ways to play…

What’s a punishment someone could sleep in? perhaps a wedgie and plugged bottom, something from that? you’re so good at punishments ✨

I’m a firm believer in sending the naughty to bed with sore bottoms.

The story Punishment Panties has a good description you might like to emulate, where Alice and Penny are spanked hard until their bottoms are pink, before both have their panties pulled tight. 20-30 minutes dangling on the panty-pulling chair should suffice, don’t loosen your underwear afterwards, but put your pajamas on over it, and then go straight to bed. Remember: no masturbating on the chair, no touching, and certainly no coming as you squirm.

An alternative to pulled panties is to create your own double leather chastity belt. This can be worn with a butt plug if you feel you deserve to have your bottom hole stretched. Some like to rub the plug with chilli or ginger juices for extra heat. Make sure your bottom is well spanked before bedtime, of course.

When you wake the following morning, you (or your disciplinarian) can remove your belt or punishment panties and conduct a thorough inspection of the red stripe between your legs, and the tender area between your buttocks. Best of all, you should continue to throb and ache throughout the day, as a lingering reminder of your naughtiness…

Dancing from the ceiling

An anonymous reader writes:

Hi I just needed to share this with you. My bf/Dom and I are in the process of moving bc of his work (I work for a company that has offices nationwide so I can move pretty much anywhere). Anyway, he had been away for almost 3 weeks and I was under strict orders not to play with myself while he was gone. I didn’t really follow those orders because sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do lol Well he came up with a new discipline, sort of from mixing punishment panties and the sit-down dance and how we already do it.

Instead of completely undressing me like he would for a spanking he left my panties on and tied my arms up to the ceiling. Then he took two pieces of rope and ran one through the legs holes of my panties and up my back and tied it to the ceiling hook then the other piece of rope the same way but on the front so ‘they’ll stay as tight as I want them.’

He then gave me the most pleasurable spanking I have ever received. We’ve done punishment panties and spanking together before but there was nothing like have that little bit of swing from being tied up to the ceiling and the pressure of the panties against my clit. I told him next time we might have to try with a plug or bullet vibe to see if I can orgasm during my dance.

Also – don’t let him know – but I might start misbehaving on purpose if this is the punishment now 😉


Thank you very much for your submission, dear reader. It’s lovely to hear the two of
you are having such fun, and I’m sure readers of this blog will enjoy
imagining you as you dangle from the ceiling with your panties pulled
so tight. Your tiptoes hovering just above the floor as you squirm, dancing to the beat of every delicious spank…

Why I went to work without wearing any panties

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…

But I managed it, I finished Part three, and it was time to lose the final pillow. I almost
didn’t do it. I was so tempted to release myself, and try to soothe
the burning stripe away. But swallowing hard, I
removed the pillow. Quickly. Before I lost my nerve. I groaned loudly as
I settled back into the chair. I couldn’t stop the little whimpers, my
toes tapping on the floor as I dangled and my chest heaved.

The fabric was pulled
impossibly tight against my slit and bottom hole. I could barely stand it, and couldn’t linger. I began to read part four quickly, which immediately put me in a conundrum. The opening is deliciously wicked. I
wanted nothing more than to grind my clit against the cloth of the
panties, relieving the insistent little throbbing. But the intensity of
the burning stripe kept me still… yearning to be released.

I
couldn’t help fidgeting as I read more, the pace of my reading
continually increasing. Quiet whimpers fell almost continuously from
my pretty lips as I tried not to concentrate on the burning line
between my legs. Struggling to keep my concentration on your words, until suddenly, the end ambushed me. I was almost startled when I finished…
I’d been so focused on the fiery sensation between my legs.

I quickly untied myself from the chair and stood.. Suddenly filled with
trepidation once more. Pulling down my panties was going to hurt almost
as much as doing the sit down dance in the first place. Taking a deep
breath I slowly started to pull them down. I squeezed my eyes shut,
almost gasping as I felt them pull free.

Taking
a moment to savor the feeling between my legs, I remembered the last
thing I had to do before coming. Hard. To spread my legs wide and pose for my inspection. Now pink faced and embarrassed, sore and
wanton, I quickly slid my fingers to the place I’d wanted to rub
throughout the entire exercise of enduring having my panties pulled. I
groaned… I was so sore.. so wet… so eager to come… and yet it hurt
to rub.

My yearning for release prompted a fierce internal struggle, forcing me to
decide what I wanted more: to endure and come hard? Or to leave my
sopping slit alone, resigned to throb and ache beneath my sheets from
both the dreadful stripe and unsatisfied need?

It was almost an agonizing orgasm.
The soreness of the stripe and the eager desperation to come duelling
forces as I wrestled with the intense sensations brought about by touching my aching
folds.

I came hard. Roughly… forcefully… at times I wanted to
stop, my stripe aching just too much… and yet I couldn’t stop… the need to
come overruling my need to leave my abused little slit alone.

The next morning I woke to find my slit still tender.  Getting dressed I tried on several different types of panties, with even
the softest pair I own proving to be too sore. I resigned myself to
going to work without panties, only to find later, to my horror, that I was
also unable to sit comfortably with my legs primly closed.

In
some ways, I think that the stripe has more of an lingering impact than
a good spanking does. My thoughts were constantly on the soreness
between my legs.. of the heart pounding embarrassment of not being able
to keep my legs properly closed. I was forced into a quite indecent posture, one I was 
unable to keep hidden beneath my desk during several parts of my day.

I now appreciate why the sit down dance is such a devious punishment. A
spanking can be covered right up, but the stripe – the stripe is often
too tender for clothing to be brushing against it all day. Ensuring a
bare cunt is hidden just below the hem of one’s professional skirt.

Even now, I perch writing this in little more than a t-shirt, I’m trying
to keep from putting too much pressure on my poor sore slit. Yet despite my discomfort, I find myself very excited again. What a
delicious little predicament…


Thank you, dear reader, for a marvellous submission. A wonderful account of the joys and soreness of panty-panting.

I loved the next-day consequences, preventing the wearing of panties and the prim closure of legs. Forcing the adoption of a highly indecent posture at work, legs spread, bare slit barely concealed.

And the wonderful torment of being so wet and desperate to come, only to
find how much it hurts to rub. You can understand why it’s Miss Hastings’ favourite punishment, and also why the members of the Red Stripe Gang find it so irresistible

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