HOME | DD

Description
I could buy scissors on Amazon, cheap Chinese and crap, but I wanted to choose them carefully. I wanted to feel them and know how sharp and substantial they were before I bought some.

I chose designated dress making scissors from a hardware shop, a quality option able to dissect the fabric of any clothing I might wear but specifically I wanted some which would slice through my panties easily. I’ll feel more vulnerable knowing I can be so effortlessly exposed and the drama of the up and coming adventure depends on that.

They were packed in plastic on a card in the shop but not so inaccessibly that I couldn’t lever open a staple or two and get them out. In a moment of wickedness I thought I might lift my skirt, open the scissors and slip the lower blade under the front of the panties I was wearing. It would only take a second and if I dropped my skirt back down no one would see me snip my knickers undone, just above my bush.

I thought it would be fun to engage the shop staff to buy the scissors and go home on the bus knowing only I knew I’d sabotaged my own underwear, feeling as naughty as hell! However these days there are cameras everywhere, all shops have hundreds and I realised I’d look furtive if I looked round to find them. Would security think I was shoplifting? Of course I had to look round, knew that looked bad and decided I dare not take such a stupid risk.

Then I thought about how you might like to make me do it, if you’d been there with me. I held my new scissors in shaking hands as I imagined punishment if I didn’t do as I was told. Would you order me to lift my skirt up clear of my panties and hold it high so you could cut them as I would have, while security watched?

I imagined I’d move my feet apart a little to let the severed crotch of my panties fall away beneath me, to hang below my arse, useless.

Would you playfully chop off a few tufts off my fur, leaving me standing above curls of my pubic hair laying on the floor between my feet while you went to pay for the instrument of my disgrace. Would I be waiting, skirt up, to be challenged for it? Maybe you’d wait for the proximity of other customers. Would I be allowed to choose who I might be humiliated in front of, or would you pick someone worse?

After the fantasy had distracted me I needed to pay for my purchase with a single £20 note, to absolve me of the responsibility of trying to handle coins with trembling hands. I wasn't sure I could count change.

In spite of valiantly trying to calm down and think of something else I was forced by my own lust to find a washroom somewhere and hide in a cubicle where I sliced the front off my panties in peace, desperate to enjoy what it felt like.

Yes I rode home on the bus like that. After calculating that my lacy tail was safely short enough!

These are now your scissors and my clothing yours to shred to ribbons at your leisure, but only while I’m wearing it!

Description
I could buy scissors on Amazon, cheap Chinese and crap, but I wanted to choose them carefully. I wanted to feel them and know how sharp and substantial they were before I bought some.

I chose designated dress making scissors from a hardware shop, a quality option able to dissect the fabric of any clothing I might wear but specifically I wanted some which would slice through my panties easily. I’ll feel more vulnerable knowing I can be so effortlessly exposed and the drama of the up and coming adventure depends on that.

They were packed in plastic on a card in the shop but not so inaccessibly that I couldn’t lever open a staple or two and get them out. In a moment of wickedness I thought I might lift my skirt, open the scissors and slip the lower blade under the front of the panties I was wearing. It would only take a second and if I dropped my skirt back down no one would see me snip my knickers undone, just above my bush.

I thought it would be fun to engage the shop staff to buy the scissors and go home on the bus knowing only I knew I’d sabotaged my own underwear, feeling as naughty as hell! However these days there are cameras everywhere, all shops have hundreds and I realised I’d look furtive if I looked round to find them. Would security think I was shoplifting? Of course I had to look round, knew that looked bad and decided I dare not take such a stupid risk.

Then I thought about how you might like to make me do it, if you’d been there with me. I held my new scissors in shaking hands as I imagined punishment if I didn’t do as I was told. Would you order me to lift my skirt up clear of my panties and hold it high so you could cut them as I would have, while security watched?

I imagined I’d move my feet apart a little to let the severed crotch of my panties fall away beneath me, to hang below my arse, useless.

Would you playfully chop off a few tufts off my fur, leaving me standing above curls of my pubic hair laying on the floor between my feet while you went to pay for the instrument of my disgrace. Would I be waiting, skirt up, to be challenged for it? Maybe you’d wait for the proximity of other customers. Would I be allowed to choose who I might be humiliated in front of, or would you pick someone worse?

After the fantasy had distracted me I needed to pay for my purchase with a single £20 note, to absolve me of the responsibility of trying to handle coins with trembling hands. I wasn't sure I could count change.

In spite of valiantly trying to calm down and think of something else I was forced by my own lust to find a washroom somewhere and hide in a cubicle where I sliced the front off my panties in peace, desperate to enjoy what it felt like.

Yes I rode home on the bus like that. After calculating that my lacy tail was safely short enough!

These are now your scissors and my clothing yours to shred to ribbons at your leisure, but only while I’m wearing it!