The Pleasure of Panty Stuffing

Slowly. Shamefully. Deeply.

Panty stuffing is more than just a sordid violation. It almost feels like a perversion of purpose, having something that should be protecting your intimate hole crudely shoved deep inside it instead.

To be filled with your own panties is to be penetrated roughly. It's not like a finger or a cock that slides in smoothly, skin on flesh. The seams and textures of intruding panties scratches and scrapes.

If I were to inspect you, and find that you'd soaked your panties like a very naughty girl, I’d have to slip them down and take them off. I'd fold the material a couple of times, keeping the wet patch with its creamy goo on top. 

Open your mouth.

I place your folded panties on your tongue, downwards, so you can taste what you've spilled. I tuck the remaining material inside your cheeks, so they puff out, making you resemble a cute little rodent.

There's really no need to stuff panties into a wet slit straight away, a mouth is just as good a place to keep them.

I take you by the hand, and escort you to your writing desk, so you can sit obediently on your bare bottom in front of an empty page. With your mouth full, you’ll need some other way to politely ask me for what you deserve.

I explain my expectations, write a page of lines for me: "Please stuff my sodden panties into my wet pussy and spank my bare bottom".

As you scribble, I might whisper:

"Sometimes you play with your panties in your cunt, don't you?"

A stifled moan, a guilty nod.

"You come so hard when you're stuffed with your own panties, don't you?"

I love how you moan against your sodden gag. How your pencil scrawls across the page with renewed urgency, how your handwriting loses its elegance with every subsequent desperate line. I love how the mere thought of being filled makes you clench your thighs together tight.

Done already? That was quick. You must be keen.

I open your mouth, tugging out your sodden underwear. Then lead you to the bed, and lift your legs. Your swollen slit stares back at me, gaping open slightly, even wetter than before.

I cover two fingertips in the soft white fabric, so it resembles the svelte outline of a cartoon ghost, then wrap it again so it’s now as thick as a ghoulish mummy’s bandaged finger.

I spread your lips, placing the tip of your own panties against the entrance of your leaking hole, and ever so slowly, begin to push.

I always take my time when stuffing panties. There really is no need to hurry. A slight push, my fingers edging forward until I feel the resistance of your tight vaginal muscles. My steady pressure overcomes your clenching, permitting me to edge forward again, slipping a little deeper every time your hole is stretched.

I know why you hate this and love this.

I know you love my tender roughness.

I whisper, "Tell me you want it to hurt."

And you do.

My intrusion is slow but relentless, every push edging closer to overcoming your resistance. Soon your tight cunt will surrender its struggle, and my fingers will suddenly jolt in so deep.

That's better, I whisper. Isn't it better when you just let me in?

I withdraw my fingers deliberately, twisting slowly, so I leave your sodden panties embedded deep inside. I splay your sticky folds apart, so the messy material is peeping out just behind your little lips. Just because it makes you blush.

And that is how I stuff panties into a wet little slit, ending with a long lingering pause so you can properly appreciate your sordid violation, and the inevitability of what is going to happen next.

Because soon, I'm going to spank you so hard.

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Kinky Thought of the Week

We can not wish a hunger away

It seems to be common for those who love spanking to have been aware of their fascination from an early age - without fully understand its importance. We might rationalise it as an interest, a preference, or a naughty secret, all of which serve to downplay its significance.

A consequence of this is it’s quite possible to fall in love with someone because they’re a wonderful loving person, whilst still harbouring desires that partner may not be able to satisfy. But then end up concealing what we crave, so we don’t offend the one we love.

But what if our obsession isn’t a pain to be endured, but a signal from ourselves to challenge old beliefs and pursue new experiences? We can not wish a hunger away. We need to find some sustenance and eat.

[Read more on the post that inspired this]

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The Naughtiest Posts of the Week

• The “No Panties On A Smacked Bottom” Rule

• Stern Questions and Nurturing Questions

• The irony of touching whilst fantasising about punished for touching

• The unexpected kinky opportunities of periods

• Turned on by the thought of being spanked in public

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Previous issue (in case you missed it)

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Until Next Time!

Huge thanks once again to my wonderful readers for contributing such awesome questions. If this has fired your desire to anonymously ask a question of your own, you’re very welcome to do so here.

play safe, and stay curious!

— spankingtheatre