The start was very simple. Her panties were on the line that she'd put up on the back porch precisely for that purpose. She loved to have the smell of the fresh air in her panties. She'd hold them to her nose, once she'd taken them off the porch line, and the smell was spring and glorious all year long. It was one of the blessings of nice weather all the time.
It was only that, one morning it seemed like there was a pair missing. She wasn't really sure of that. Because, after all, doing her panties and hanging them out on the back porch line had become a ritual and something that she did so automatically that she didn't always notice. But she really thought that a pair was missing.
Jane dismissed the thought from her mind and went about her business. She'd put the panties on the line late, so, se thought that she'd leave them for the day and bring them in that evening.
Her day was a normal one for her, work lunch, work and then a little shopping after work, before coming home to make her dinner and settle in for the evening. It was only later after dinner that she remembered that she'd left her panties on the line on the porch. She went to get them, and they were gone. They simply weren't there.
She didn't notice it immediately, due to her consternation at the panties not being on the line but in a bit she saw a piece of paper that was attached to the line. She went and took the paper down to read it. It said:
"Thank for the pretty panties!"
There was no signature on the paper, only the printed note.
Jane was flummoxed. "Who would want to steal her panties? And why? Yes, they were pretty, she loved wearing pretty panties. Like all women she had cotton and utilitarian ones but her pride and joy were her pretty pastels, her bikinis with laces and see through panels, a few thongs, and a few lovely colored, nylon 'grannies'.
She got a glass of wine and sat in the dark on the porch and thought; she just thought. She was surprised to note that she wasn't particularly threatened by this. It didn't seem to her to be a case about a really dangerous criminal mind at work.
"No," she told herself, "It was a panty thief, and I can handle a panty thief."
It was due to this kind of thinking that Jane came to a decision that would be a fateful decision. She took the note and scrawled onto the note, under the printing:
"Why are you stealing my panties? Give them back!"
She nodded her head firmly and put the note back up on the line. She had a sense that this person was watching.
She also decided that she wasn't going try to sleuth around and spy to find out who it was. She simply wouldn't dignify this thief with that kind of effort. She took her wine into the house and watched a movie on tv. By the time it was over, she'd pretty much forgotten it.
The next morning she was up in the kitchen getting coffee to start her day; it was fairly early and she remembered the porch and the panties incident. She hurried out to the porch, and was disappointed to discover that her note was still hanging on the line.
Jane took the note and was again shocked to see that it actually had a message from the panty thief:
"Want to negotiate for them?"
"No way, Jose! I just want them back now, and there won't be any trouble. Keep it up and I'll call the police." She wrote, thinking: "That should settle their hash!"
This had gotten her dander up and she was almost relishing the challenge. She got ready for work and went off to work, trying to put it all out of her mind. Her last thought on the issue was:
"I'll get whoever it is! I'm not going to be bullied by someone stealing panties."
She worked a little later than she had thought that day. Her 'panty' problem was not the highest priority on her mind, when she got home. But she remembered it quickly enough, and went to the porch. Instead of the note a pair of her panties was now hanging on the line. She went over to them and realized that they had a note inside them.
"Don't threaten me!" the note said, "Look in your bedroom."
Jane dropped the note quickly and went off to her bed room. She noticed, when she walked into the room that the bottom drawer of her bureau was open. The thought flashed cross her mind that it was the drawer where she kept her panties.
Then she saw the piles on the bed. There was a pile of white cotton panties. They were simply cut up and destroyed. The note on top of the pile said:
"These are ugly! Don't buy or wear them!"
The next pile was her special panties. The note on them said: "These are as lovely as you!"
She didn't know whether to be mad or happy about the note. She was surprised by her mixed emotions about it. But had to admit that they were there.
Then there was a pile, with only two pair of panties in it, of white, cotton bikinis. The note here said:
Finally, there was a pile of pastel 'grannies' that had a note: "Okay for now and then."
Jane was flummoxed. She was simply blown away by the fact that whoever this was, had the nerve to come into her house, sort through her private underwear and actually leave her notes rating the underwear! She was beside herself.
She sat, and decided that she'd better think this through a bit. First, of course, she had to deal with the piles. She took the ruined white cotton 'grannies' and put them in a plastic bag. The bag she put on the porch. Then she put the others away and realized that she'd have to go shopping for some new panties now.
That thought then hit her. She was allowing this person, or whoever it was, to dictate what she'd do. But rather quickly the notion struck her that she loved to shop for panties. That would be a treat, the silver lining to the problem, so to speak. She surprised herself by finding something good in this ridiculous situation.
Once that thought struck her, she realized that it was precisely that: it was ridiculous. The panties were now all put away, and she went downstairs to think a bit.
Jane had the capacity to be able to be frankly honest with herself, especially in situations like this. She'd just think it through a bit
She got a glass of wine, and sat on the back porch in the cool evening air to think about the situation. She wanted to be honest about this. She hated the invasion of her privacy. But was surprised to discover that this wasn't the main part of the problem. She added to this the fact that she relished the coming shopping trip for new panties. She even wondered idly, if the person would follow her on her shopping trip.
She decided on a new note. She wrote:
"You destroyed my panties! Why? What do you want? Why are you doing this? Tell me, I demand it! I will go to the police!"
She put the note into the panties that were hanging on the line, and went in the house.
She went in and settled for an evening of mindless television and another glass of wine. She watched long enough for the problem to fade in her mind, and only barely remembered to check the porch at bed time.
The note was still there. She took it out and was startled to see that there was already a return note.
"First part," it said, "I destroyed the ugly ones. You're too pretty to wear ugly panties! I bet you even are looking forward to buying new ones. Next, I want to see you in your panties, that's simple. Also, I'm doing it because I can, and it's a challenge. And, finally, I don't think you'll go to the police or you would have done it already."
She took the note and sat with it to think about it. She was surprised that this person was so much in touch with her and what she was like, especially that they knew that she was already looking forward to buying new ones. She knew that they were also right about the police; she'd have gone to the police by now, if that were her intention. She simply hadn't done that.
She knew that a part of her was even reveling in the challenge here. She thought that might be sick but she knew she was enjoying it.
"Give me back my panties!" the note said now, and it went on: "You're not going to see me in my panties! Even if you're right about a shopping trip."
She put the note out into the panties hanging on the line, and stomped off to watch more television, and have another glass of wine, to cool her frustration. She sat watching mindlessly and disturbed herself by actually giggling over the entire affair.
"Stop it, girl!" she said to herself, but this just caused her to giggle that much more. She knew it wasn't the wine that was affecting her; she was so surprised at herself that she was actually enjoying this.
In the morning, she looked even before coffee at the panties on the line on the porch. She took out the note it said:
"You're gorgeous, when you're angry!"
In a fit of heat, she scrawled on the note:
"Bring back my panties today!"
She had her coffee and then hid the key to the house in a new spot. She left for work confident about what she'd done. When she got home, she went to the back porch to check on the 'mailbox' as she now thought of the panties on the line. She was in a swaggering mood, knowing her precautions probably had done the trick. The note, however, was new, and the 'panties mailbox' was gone; Jane was shocked.
"Negotiate!" It said, and then added: "Better look around."
Jane had a sudden terrible thought; she hurried up the stairs to her bedroom. The very first thing that she noticed, when she entered the bed room was the fact that her bottom drawer was open. It was as she had feared; the panty drawer was now empty. He'd taken all of her underwear. And for good measure, she noticed a pile of her pantyhose on the floor with a note: "These are ugly; don't wear them; you're too pretty to wear these!"
She blushed at that part of the note, realizing that it pleased her. But quickly disciplined her mind to be furious. He'd gotten in and taken all of her panties, all of them, all of them.
The final discovery, the next morning, was a mind bender for Jane, for there, unnoticed previously was a pair of men's white 'y fronts' lying on the bed. There was a note: 'wear these until we negotiate.'
She looked around in a panic, not sure what to do right away. Then she got mad. She decided that she's 'show this person', always thinking of 'him.' She wrote on the note:
"Okay, pal, I'll wear the damn 'y fronts'; anxious to see me in them?"
She put the note on the clothes line, and got herself ready for work. She felt a little silly at wearing the 'y fronts' but realized, after a bit, that just the thought of wearing them was turning her on.
Jane knew she had to think this through, so she left early for work, and stopped at a Starbuck's for some coffee and think time. As she mulled over the situation, she realized that, despite the harassment of not knowing what would happen next, she was actually enjoying the challenge. That was the big news. Once she'd been honest with herself about that, she felt calmer. Unbidden the thought jounced into her mind that maybe, just maybe she should 'negotiate'.
This was causing Jane's mind to slip into a totally different direction. She knew herself well enough to know that there was a part of her that loved this scenario, that loved being told what to do, that loved it that he'd taken her panties and forced her to wear men's/boy's 'y fronts to work today. She even had the passing thought that she'd love to expose herself to someone, almost anyone. Jane brought herself up straight at this point, with this thought. For hard upon this thought was the also unbidden thought that if she were going to expose herself to anyone, why not 'negotiate' and expose herself to 'him'? She realized that her thinking was taking her into dangerous territory, and she put a clamp on it, finished her coffee and left. She did have the capacity to compartmentalize her thinking and so, she put off thinking about it until lunch.
She was shocked that by the end of the day it sounded like such a reasonable thing to 'negotiate'. She couldn't think of a good alternative. She'd have to see what he wanted. She also realized that she was loving the challenge, especially now that the challenge was becoming such a sexual thing for her. That part of it, though unbidden, was hugely real for her. She spent the day noticing that the crotch of her 'y fronts' was getting more and more soaked. It even made her giggle to think of 'her y fronts.' She decided, after all, that she'd see what he had in mind for this 'negotiation.'
She got home from work, and went to the porch immediately. She didn't even pretend to lock it any more. He obviously had access somehow, and she simply accepted that; for her it was merely part of the way this situation was developing.
There was a new note on the line, and it was encased in a pair of her loveliest panties. She sighed, when she saw them.
"A gift!" the note began. Then it continued: "I bet that it was a turn on to be wearing those 'y fronts' today. Negotiate?"
She wrote on the note: "Even if it were a turn on, I'm not going to admit it." (Though she realized that in saying that, she'd already admitted it.) Then the note went on; she wrote: "Thank you for the gift but I want all my panties back. What do you want to negotiate?"
She was, in a significant way, giving in but she felt okay about it. She decided to go out for dinner, to treat herself. She took a shower and put on a clean blouse and skirt, and treated herself to the lovely panties that he'd left for her.
When she got home, she found, on the kitchen table, a small pile of her panties. There was a note:
"A good faith gesture."
Jane actually smiled at that; she knew that she was enjoying this far too much. She read the note as it went on:
"Negotiate: my main point would be seeing you wearing only a pair of panties but you might not be ready for that. I will, however, give you a pile of panties back if you write for me an erotic story. Use dirty words in it to titillate me. It doesn't matter if it's something you've read on line or something from your imagination. Write it as though it were happening to you."
Jane scrawled on the note: "You're on; I'll work on a story tonight. Don't take the mailbox, please!" Then, after thinking about it for just a bit, she made a decision and wrote on the note:
"I hate it that I'm beginning to enjoy this."
She put the note into a pair of panties on the line and went into her den to think about a story to write. She mused for a while and finally remembered a story that she'd read as part of another story. To refresh her memory she went to the online story site, and, after poking around a bit, found the story. The title of the story itself was "Laid Aloft" by an author named David Shaw. But within that story was the vignette that she was interested in sending to the panty thief.
She began to work on the story, finding that she was enjoying making it her own fantasy, writing as though it actually happened to her. She was busy with it, engrossed in it, and only fairly late went to the kitchen for a drink of water. She also went out to the porch. The 'mailbox' was still there but, hanging from the clothes line was a clean pair of 'y fronts' with a note attached to them saying: "Enjoy!" She actually blushed, when she realized that she would indeed wear these to work tomorrow. She took them from the line smiling. The mailbox too had a note:
"Can't wait to read it; make it dirty, mind you, I'll like that; you probably will also. I knew that you'd enjoy all this. Relax and go with it."
She dashed an answer on the note and put it into the 'mailbox'. It said:
"Don't tell me what to do!"
In the morning she got her coffee and went out to check on the porch. There was a note in the 'y fronts'. She still marveled at his ability to get around and not be seen. She tried to quash her obvious admiration, and took the note; it said simply:
"Telling you what to do is what this is all about!!"
The note sent a shiver right down her spine, and Jane had to admit to herself, in all honesty, that it was indeed getting to be what this was all about. She felt herself caving in here, relishing the fact that 'he' had her 'over a barrel', although strictly speaking that was not true but she was pleased to think it so. And she just loved the thought of this anonymous person telling her what to do! She knew that much about herself. She just loved it. For the first time, she actually considered allowing him to see her in her panties.
She got her coffee and put the finishing touches on the story for him. She loved it; it made her horny, and, last night she ended up, masturbating just thinking about the story happening to her. She read it through and was pleased with it all over again:
I was on a business trip to Florida about a half year ago. Having had a trying time with the airport lines, I was, at lunch, irritated, and terribly rude to the waiter. I realized later that I should have apologized but did not do so. After a brief rest, I left my things in the room and went for a short walk to calm down and get a breath of air. When I returned to my room, I wanted to go over the papers for the presentation that I had to make. The papers were gone!
I went into panic mode immediately. There was no way that I was going to be able to get those papers in time for the presentation. It was only then that I noticed that an envelope that was shoved under my door. I went to pick it up and read it.
The note in the envelope sent chills up and down my spine:
"So, the white bitch thinks that she should take her bad mood out on everyone! If you want your precious papers back, you will do exactly as this note tells you. Otherwise, if you tell the hotel manager or anyone else, your papers will just vanish."
I set the note down and thought for a moment. I never considered the possibility of 'telling' anyone. I would do as I was told. A very strange part of me was even, unaccountably excited about being told to do something, about following someone's demands.
The note told me to go to the linen room on the floor above mine. I went there, as I had been told, and found the room open. Inside the linen room was another envelope addressed to "The White Cunt From #567." I opened it and read the new set of instructions. I was told to look on the pile of pillows that was on one of the huge racks of linens. In that pile, the third pillow case down on the pile, was a pillow case that had a large hole cut in it. I realized right away that the hole was a mouth hole.
In obedience to the note's demands:
First, I took out my cell phone and called the number that was on the note. When a voice answered, I said clearly:
"This is the White Cunt From #567; I am getting ready."
"Good, bitch" the voice said, adding: "Put the pillow case over your head and lie down on the pile of linens. Put a pile of linens over yourself but keep your feet on the floor."
"Yes, sir!" I said, realizing that compliance was my only hope now, and also realizing that the state of sexual excitement that I was now in would not allow me to do anything but comply. I put the pillow case over my head, adjusting it so that my mouth was at the hole. Then I found my way to the pile of linens and lay down, as I was told, putting another pile of linens over me.
In just a very short while, I heard the door open, and then the obvious sound of the door being locked. A few men seemed to have entered the room. Then I felt a pair of hands, or more than only one pair of hands, rubbing my ass, which hung out due to my position half on the linen cart and half off, through my skirt. My panties started to get wet at that point.
Someone then raised the hem of my skirt, exposing my panty covered ass, and then slapped my ass really hard. I squealed from the suddenness of it but the squeal was squelched by the linens in which I was wrapped. The hand kept slapping my ass, and was joined by other hands. The pain in my ass was severe but the heat that spread from the pain was becoming overwhelmingly sexual for me.
The spanking stopped and those hands pulled me to my feet. A voice demanded:
"Who are you?"
"I'm the White Cunt from #567," I said clearly.
"Are you the Rude Cunt from #567?"
"Yes, sir," I answered contritely, "I'm the Rude Cunt from #567. I'm sorry for having been rude."
"How sorry are you, Cunt?" the voice asked.
"Very sorry, sir," I answered.
"Are you willing to prove it?" the voice wanted to know.
"Yes, sir, I am willing to prove it," I replied.
"Do you know that with that pillow case over your head, you look like a slut!" he wanted to know.
"Yes, sir," I answered meekly, "I know that I look like a slut."
"Why do you think that is, White Cunt?" he wanted to know.
With no hesitation I told him/them: "It's because I am a slut!"
"I thought so," the voice said, and continued: "So, you won't mind if we take your clothes off, will you?"
"No, sir, I won't mind at all if you strip me naked right here," I assured them.
They did so instantly. I felt the hands at the buttons of my blouse, and the blouse being removed. Next the hands unhooked my bra and took it from me. There were comments then about my big tits, and about the fact that my nipples were hard, so I must be enjoying it.
I spoke up then, feeling it appropriate: "This slut will enjoy anything you do to her," I said.
"Shut the fuck up, pig, unless we tell you to speak." The voice shouted at me.
I said a perfunctory, 'yes sir', and was quiet, as they took my skirt from me. My panties were really wet by then, when finally, they too were taken from me, and I was totally naked.
Hands turned me around to make me more available. I was bent at the waist by another set of hands. A hard cock struck me in the face and I opened my mouth automatically to receive it, beginning to suck hard. At the same time, with me bent over, I felt a cock pushing against my pussy from behind.
The fucking and sucking transported me to a kind of sexual heaven. The man in my mouth came first, and then was replaced by another cock, which I also began to suck, having swallowed the cum from the previous man. The man in my pussy also came and was replaced by what I supposed was the first man that I'd sucked off. They did the fucking in relays like that until all had fucked me, and had been sucked off. I didn't know if they were finished then or not. But apparently they weren't. I was bent over with my tits pressing against the linens on the linen cart again, when I felt hands forcing my ass cheeks apart. A cock, nice and hard, plunged into my pussy only to be removed and pushed into my asshole. I yelled into the pillow cases and sheet but the ass fucking continued. I got into a rhythm with it and pushed my hips back to meet the cock fucking my asshole.
"Look," a voice said, "The cunt likes being fucked up the ass. Give it to her."
The man fucking my aching ass came then and withdrew but he was then replaced by another cock pushing into my now lubricated asshole. He fucked me also. By the time the third man fucked my asshole, I was intensely sore and hoping for an end.
They finally were finished with me. I myself had cum twice in the process of the fucking and sucking. A voice spoke up to me and said:
"There is one more penalty that you have to pay for your rude behavior."
"Yes, sir?" I said to show that I was still going to cooperate.
"We're taking all of your clothes with us. You have to go down the hall to the left and down the stairs to your floor and to your room. The door will be open and your folder and clothes will be there. Do you understand?"
I started to cry then and begged them to not take my clothes and leave me naked. But they laughed at my pleading, and I heard the door unlocked and then the room was silent.
It took me a few minutes to gather my courage, after I removed the pillow case but I eventually opened the door, and looking out saw no one. I moved to the stairway door as fast as I could, and then down the stairs. It almost made me laugh that I was running naked through the hotel hallway, with my ass cheeks jiggling and my tits swaying. My room door was open, as they'd said it would be, and I was finally safe in my room, still shaking from the whole incident. On the bed were my clothes, except for my panties, and the papers that had been taken.
I sat down to stop shaking and with not other thought at all, inserted my hands into my pussy and brought myself to another orgasm.
I cleaned myself up and went over the papers for the presentation, and then went for a meal in the restaurant. I was, I realized seated in the same area as before and had the same waiter. He was ginning at me, as he came to take my order. Once I had ordered he was about to walk away but turned to me and said:
"Maybe the madam would like to have these back?"
Having said that, he handed my openly my panties. I blushed to the roots of my hair but remembered my manners and thanked him profusely.
I had a hard time keeping my mind on the presentation but it went well for me. I can never think of going to Florida for any reason without thinking of that.
Before finishing her preparations for work, she took the story and put it into the 'mailbox' on the line on the porch. She added a note saying:
"Here's the story; what do I get now in return?"
She was shaking from the effect of the story, and took time to play with herself in the shower.
She was anxious, when she got home from work; she went immediately to the porch to see what the day had brought. There hanging on the line were three pairs of her nicest panties. She smiled involuntarily at what her story writing effort had brought her. It never occurred to her, in her instant pleasure, to think about the fact that here she was only being give back three pairs of the many pairs of panties that he'd taken from her. She was pleased to have them.
There was a note in one pair of the panties, it said:
"Negotiate! Nice dirty story! I bet you really, really liked it; didn't you? Tell me and negotiate."
She put a note back up on the line, after taking down her returned panties. The note said:
"What do we negotiate next? You do something! I worked hard and only got three pairs of panties back!"
She walked away from the note but thought better of it. There was a direct order there a kind of command, and Jane was sensitive to that. She quickly wrote on the note at the bottom:
"Yes, I really, really did like the story, and thought of me being the woman in the pillow case."
She needed to go for groceries that evening; she thought that she'd catch a quick dinner of some kind while out. She was oddly at peace with the way the 'negotiations' were going. She gotten some of her panties back, and that was a good sign. Now she needed to wait for him to make his move.