The start of my panties punishment
A lot of boys seem to have drifted into a regime of sissy punishment at the hands of their mother, aunt or perhaps a dominant wife or girlfriend. For them it’s perhaps hard to identify the moment their lives changed and they became either a sissy.
Not so for me. Looking back I can identify the precise incident which lead to me being what I am today – a submissive sissy husband, meekly accepting his wife’s every whim.
It was around the end of the Christmas term in my final year of junior school, so I would have been ten years old. The school were putting on a pantomime – Cinderella – and I was desperate to play the part of Prince Charming. The girl who had been chosen to play the lead role was called Sophie, and in my ten year old mind I thought she was wonderful and that we should get married as soon as possible. Playing her beau in the pantomime would surely convince her that I was the one for her!
Anyway, I did get the part, and was over the moon. My enthusiasm, however, was dampened slightly when we had a cast meeting to discuss costumes. Mine was to be a purple velvet tunic with white leggings or tights. Several of my friends teased me about having to wear tights, even though I protested that it could be leggings. Even Sophie couldn’t suppress a giggle.
I went home and told my step mother, Elizabeth, what I needed, and she said we could go shopping that weekend.
We found some velvet material for her to make my tunic, complete with some white fake fur edging and costume jewellery to make it more ‘prince-like’. But however hard we looked, we couldn’t find anywhere selling white leggings that would look the part. In the end she said she’d have to buy me some white tights.
I wasn’t happy about that – I knew the teasing I'd get at school – but I needed my costume, or I'd not get to play opposite the lovely Sophie! So I reluctantly agreed. Elizabeth took me to Marks and Spencer, and up to the girls’ section. I'd never been in there before, and felt really awkward among the shelves of knickers, vests, socks and other girly attire. I felt sure everyone would think we were shopping for things for me (even though I suppose we were), and I felt all embarrassed.
Before long we were in the section selling tights, and Elizabeth found two pairs of white ones in my size – one patterned with flowers and one just ribbed. She held them up and asked me to choose.
Of course I chose the plain ribbed ones, and we paid for them and left.
When we got home Polly, my step sister, was eager to see what we’d bought, and giggled when she saw the tights. “You're going to wear tights!” she squealed. “How funny!” I blushed, knowing that that was exactly the sort of teasing I was likely to get when my friends at school found out.
Elizabeth set to making my tunic. She had me stand up straight so that she could measure me round my chest, arms and the overall length. It took her most of the evening and part of Sunday afternoon too, but by Sunday tea time it was done.
She had me go upstairs to try it on. Polly mischievously asked if I needed to put my tights on too for the full effect, but luckily for me Elizabeth just laughed it off. Elizabeth made me strip down to my underpants so she could see how the tunic looked on me. She said it was perfect, but I thought it was a bit short. It only just covered my underpants, and I worried that if I bent over or anything that it would ride up over my bottom.
Elizabeth assured me it was fine, but that in any case there was no more material, so it would have to do.
At school the next day we had our first dress rehearsal, so everyone could see the costumes. I hadn’t thought about the practicalities of putting on my costume, and to my huge embarrassment I needed help from one of the female teachers to put my tights on. And as if being dressed by a teacher wasn’t embarrassing enough, as she pulled my tights up over my underpants she said (out loud, so everyone heard) “Oh gosh, I suppose you're not used to wearing tights, are you Robert? You’ll need to wear white underpants under them. These blue pants you have on will show right through.”
And they did. I hadn’t considered it, but everyone could see my underpants through my white tights. I hurriedly put my tunic on to cover them up.
But my humiliation didn’t end there. As we rehearsed it seemed my fears about the length of my tunic were well founded. After a few scenes the drama teacher said “Robert – you’re tunic’s a bit short and we can see your underpants through your tights. You need to make sure you're wearing white underpants next time. “
I just muttered “Yes, sir”, but inside I was dying. I could feel my face going bright red at having my underwear discussed so publicly. And the giggles from around the cast didn’t exactly help either.
When I got home Elizabeth asked how they'd liked my costume, and I told her that I needed to wear white pants next time. She kind of laughed and made a joke about how it must be difficult for a boy to learn about wearing tights. I didn’t find it at all funny, but Polly found it hilarious.
I determined that for next dress rehearsal I'd make sure I had white underpants on.
As it happened, the next dress rehearsal was the same day we had outdoor games. So I took absolutely no chances – the evening beforehand I packed a clean pair of white underpants in with my costume, just in case I got all muddy or something doing games. I went to bed feeling very pleased with my cleverness.
In the morning I didn’t even need to worry about what colour pants I wore to school, as I knew I had my white ones in with my costume.
When we came to the rehearsal, though, I opened my costume bag and felt physically sick. My tunic was there. My tights were there. But where my underpants had been was a pair of white cotton panties. I searched again, but my own underpants were nowhere to be found. All I did find was a little note from Polly. It said “These are much more suitable for under your tights – hope you like them!”
I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t keep my own underpants on, as they were red, and I'd got told off for wearing dark underpants last time. But I couldn’t put on a pair of my step sister’s panties. Could I?
I furtively glanced around the changing room to see if anyone was watching, and then spread out the panties inside my bag to get a good look at them. I'd thought they were plain white, but in fact they had little lacy trims round the legs and waist, and a pink bow at the front.
I didn’t know what to do, but as I heard the drama teacher call us to be ready I knew I had to do something. I decided that as long as I was careful getting dressed, no-one would look close enough to see the panties through my tights. I also decided that I would kill Polly when I got home.
I stripped off to my underpants and put my tunic on. Then I very quickly removed my red pants and slipped into the white panties. They felt soft and strange as I slid them up and into place, and slightly too tight around my bottom. Desperately trying to keep them covered up I sat down to put my tights on.
And I'd nearly finished when I heard someone shout “Hey, Robert! What’s that you're wearing under your tights? They look like girl’s knickers! Isn’t wearing tights girly enough for you?!”
I felt my face go bright red as I hurriedly finished pulling my tights up over the panties. But David continued “They ARE knickers, aren’t they? Come on, show us your knickers!”
I could stand his teasing no longer. I ran over towards him and punched him, and we fell wresting on the floor.
And that was when the teacher came in. He grabbed us both and said “Right, you two. You know the punishment for fighting. Off to the headmistress with both of you.”
He took us both to the headmistress’s office, and left us outside while he went in and explained. After what seemed an age she summoned us in.
“Mr Bunter has told me you were fighting. Is that correct?” We both meekly nodded. “Very well. You know the punishment for fighting. You will both bend over and I will give you six strokes of the cane. David – you first. Come here and touch your toes.”
I had to watch him bend over and receive six of the best, knowing I would soon suffer a similar fate. But as I watched I realised that I was in for a much worse punishment. David had his trousers (and presumably underpants) on to protect his bottom. I had only a thin pair of panties and tights! It seemed so unfair.
When my time came Ms Appleby bent me over and made me touch my toes. I felt my tunic ride up to totally expose my bottom. And then, just as she was about to start caning me, Ms Appleby said “Goodness me, Robert. Mr Bunter told me why you were wearing tights, but are those girl’s panties you have on under them?”
I meekly nodded my head. I couldn’t even begin to explain. It would just sound too ridiculous.
“Then in that case you will receive two extra strokes of my cane. Is that clear?” All I could reply was “Yes Miss. Thank you Miss”, and with that she began to cane me.
The tights and panties were hardly any protection at all, and each stroke stung mercilessly. By the fourth I had tears in my eyes, and by the time she’d given me all eight I was struggling to hold back the tears. I felt so foolish. So, so, sissyish, crying in front of another boy, and wearing white tights and panties.
As per the school rules, Ms Appleby then gave both David and me a letter to give to our parents telling them that we had been caned at school that day, and requiring an acknowledgement.
I somehow got through the dress rehearsal – everyone knowing we’d both been caned, and David telling everyone that I'd “cried like a girl”.
As I walked home I was seething with Polly. If it hadn’t been for her taking my underpants and replacing them with a pair of her panties none of this would have happened. When I got home I ran straight upstairs and into her bedroom.
“How did you like my little joke?” she teased. “Did you like wearing my panties?!” She smiled, but I was in no mood for laughing. I grabbed her hair and hit her hard on her arm. She screamed.
Almost immediately Elizabeth appeared in the doorway demanding to know what was going on. Polly, who hadn’t been crying at all until that point, suddenly turned on the waterworks and let tears stream down his face. Between sobs she explained that she’d just had a little joke with the panties, and that I'd come home and attacked her.
If you hadn’t been there it would have sounded like she was a poor innocent little girl who’d been savagely set upon by a nasty big strong boy. Unfortunately for me, Elizabeth HADN’T been there, and believed every word her daughter said.
I tried to explain my version of events, but I could tell Elizabeth had already made her mind up.
“And where are the panties now?” she demanded. I told her they were still in my costume bag. “Then go and put them on – you can take off the rest of your clothes, as you won’t be needing them for the rest of the day – and come to my bedroom.”
I was speechless with the unjustness of it all. I'd been tricked into having to wear panties in the first place, which had lead me to getting a sound caning, and now I feared I was in for further punishment.
Polly pulled mocking faces at me as I walked past her bedroom wearing that pair of her panties, and she followed me into Elizabeth’s bedroom.
“Robert,” Elizabeth said, “you’ve been a very naughty boy. So I'm going to teach you that boys don’t hit girls, no matter what’s happened. I'm going to put you across my lap and spank your bottom through those panties. And when I've given you 12 smacks I shall pull your panties down and spank your bare bottom. Then when I've finished I shall stand you up and allow you to pull your panties back up, and you will stay in them, and just them, for the rest of the evening. And from now on, every time you're naughty, I shall put you into your punishment panties and spank your bottom again. Now come here and lay yourself over my lap.”
So for the second time that day I received a sound thrashing while wearing girl’s panties. And true to her word, whenever Elizabeth thought I'd been naughty after that, she would put me into punishment panties and administer her own very humiliating discipline.
