Bad Girl's Sexy Punishment
The figure wasn't at its usual place to drop off a pair of its special creations.
The nondescript form slipped in through the crowds at the First Baptists Church's clothes drive. The figure wove through the conservatively dressed crowd of people dropping off clothes in boxes, trash bags, and sometimes loose piles. The articles were dumped onto tables to be sorted to be distributed to those with less and in need. The figure was inspired to leave this pair of panties here. It was the perfect place for them.
They were muted compared to the last few it had made. A solid black color, waistband trimmed in lace, and with one unique feature: they were crotchless. Lace also surrounded the slit in the panties' gusset, allowing naughty access to the pussy of the lucky girl who donned them.
Chastity Reynolds was a good girl. The perfect one for the panties emblazoned with the all-capitalized letters, each one white and bold. "Bad Girl" they read.
With a flick of its wrist, the figure dropped the panties into a pile of clothing. Soon a girl, eighteen, would arrive to sort them. By then, the figure would be long gone, not remembered by anyone.
Chastity Reynolds, a sweet, blonde girl with her hair falling in a long braid on her back, arrived to gather up the next load of clothes to be sorted. They had to be separated by sex, by age, and then by sizes and types. There were laundry baskets waiting behind her, ready to receive the clothing as she processed them. She dumped her load on her sorting station, eager to help her church provide for those with need in her community. It made her feel fulfilled. It gave the girl such a thrill to be so helpful.
She froze when she came across the panties.
Underwear was
not
one of the things that were asked for. Not used. If they came sealed in packs, that was fine. But these were clearly used. She picked them up, and an electric tingle raced through her. She gripped them, stroking the lace. They were the naughtiest pair of panties she'd ever seen in her life. The eighteen-year-old girl shuddered, surprised by the liquid heat bursting inside of her. The wanton sensation was something alien to the good girl. It rushed through her. She blushed and she noticed the lace on the gusset.
She gasped as she poked her finger
through
the slit in the crotch. They were torn, but deliberately. The innocent girl didn't understand why someone would do that.
What's the point of wearing panties like these?
she wondered.
She turned them in her hand and gasped at the words printed in those bold, all-capitalized letters. "Bad Girl," she breathed, reading the phrase. "What are these doing here?"
Those two words galvanized her mind. Chastity was a good girl. Yes, she'd gotten in trouble, told a few fibs, tried to get out of eating her greens or not doing her homework, but she had never done anything truly
bad
.
She took her first step on that path as she balled up the panties and shoved them into her skirt's pocket. She gasped at what she'd done. She was stealing from the church's clothing drive.
Cheeks burning, she dove back into her sorting, hoping to forget she'd done anything so wicked.
* * *
Chastity Reynolds
I stared at the panties, my fingers stroking through the slit in the crotch. It was all I could think about since I stole them yesterday at the clothing drive. I couldn't believe I'd done that. But those two words, Bad Girl, just electrified me. They were so tantalizing. So at odds with everything that I was. Christians didn't steal. A Christian shouldn't want to wear something like this. And yet...
I wanted to wear them.
I squirmed, the heat rushing through me. It was Sunday, and I was back from morning service. I had changed out of my pink dress, standing only in my bra and panties now. I wanted to put on some casual clothes, to do my homework, and relax around the house before evening service. All I could think about during church service was the panties.
What would it be like to wear a pair that didn't have a crotch?
A shuddering, electric tingle raced on my fingers
demanded
that I don them.
Cheeks burning, I set the panties down on my bed and stood up. My small breasts quivered in my white bra. They were little A cups, not really needing the support, but a good woman wore her brassiere. That's what mama said.
I hooked the waistband of my panties and rolled them off my hips. I was shocked by the sweet musk that filled my nose. I groaned, realizing the scent was coming from the wet heat that had engulfed my pussy. I shouldn't think of my vagina as a pussy, but I couldn't help it. Bad girls had pussies.
Was I a bad girl now?
I stepped out of my panties and set them with care on my bed. I grabbed the black panties, the lace trim of the waistband caressing my fingers. I turned the pair in my grip until they were facing the right way. I stepped my right leg through the appropriate hole. I groaned as I slid my left leg through them and then drew the naughty panties up.
The electric tingles intensified.
Everywhere the cloth touched me came alive. A crackling sensation surged up my legs and reached my pussy, increasing the molten heat. I let out a groan of wanton pleasure. I shuddered, my breasts jiggling in my brassiere. I pulled the panties over my rear, the waistband riding low on my hips. My virgin sex clenched as a wicked sensation rippled out of me.
I glanced down and saw my blonde pubic hair peeking through the panties' slit.
That wasn't right. What was the point of wearing panties like these if my pubic hair peeked out? I smiled, this calm settling upon me. A bad girl didn't need pubic hair. A bad girl was shaved. And why was I wearing this pointless bra? My small titties didn't need it. I reached behind me and undid it as I smiled.
I had some grooming to do.
Wearing only my bad girl panties, I sauntered out of my bedroom. I yanked open my door, not caring if my parents spotted me. I calmly walked down the hallway, a sway to my nubile hips I'd never possessed. I smiled, my firm breasts jiggling before me. My nipples were so hard. I tweaked them. Right there in the hallway, I let out a wanton groan of delight as the tingles raced down to my pussy.
No one caught me.
I entered the bathroom and closed the door behind me.
"Chastity, honey," Mom said a heartbeat later, "I'm going out for a jog. You better do your homework."
I rolled my eyes as I heard mom's footsteps pass. God, she was such a stuck up bitch. Homework? Eww.
I stared at myself in the mirror. My face was so plain and innocent. And what was up with this braid? It was long.
Cute
. That had to go. I wrenched open a drawer and found a pair of scissors. I unwound my braid, my golden locks spilling around me. And then I took the scissors to them.
Snip. Snip. Snip.
My hair fell to the flooring, golden strands fluttering to their death. I cut my hair at the shoulder, creating something that was so ragged and wild. I shuddered when I finished, shaking my head, watching my new locks dancing about my mischievous face. I loved it. I pursed my lips, smiling. Mom would hate it. She thought women should have long hair.
Not me.
I didn't like slipping out of the panties, but I had to shave. I thrust them down, gathered up the pink foam and my razor, then slid into the bathtub. I threw my legs over the sides of the tub, feeling my tight pussy lips parting. I couldn't help but run a finger up and down my folds. I didn't have a hymen. I'd broken that riding my bike years ago.
Feeling bad, I thrust my finger inside of my virgin pussy. I gasped, having never done that before. It felt so wicked. I was hot and juicy and oh, so, silky. I shuddered, my toes curling.
I masturbated right then and there. The bathroom door wasn't even locked. Dad could walk in and catch me. He could see me being a bad, bad girl. He could watch my fingers plunging in and out of my pussy. I stirred my twat up. He would stare at me with such a wanton lust and see that I was a wicked thing.
A slut.
"Daddy!" I moaned as I came, my toes curling as the pleasure rippled through me. It was wonderful.
I sucked the sweet cream off my fingers, loving the flavor, and set to work. I coated my pubic hair in pink foam and started shaving. I wasn't afraid. Bad girls didn't get afraid. We acted. We took what we wanted.
We shaved our pussies to be wicked, wanton sluts.