Thursday, 25 September 2008


I am a little baffled by the reactions to the disturbing image I blogged about but that is only to be expected. I think some of you, at least, feel that this is something that happens to you too. That something you feel you don't like still intrigues you. Enough of that now.

It struck me that I am as embarrassed about silly fantasies as about wicked ones. When I started blogging I wanted to talk about all kinds of fantasies and share some of the personal and silly ones. I feel that I want to return to that. So here is a kind of fantasy that is one of those that are close to reality but still very much just an idea. And quite silly.

Heart is beating hard. Cheeks are hot. I almost stumble, feeling dizzy. My legs are trembling as I enter the bus and look around for a seat. I believe there must be something haunted in my gaze, something uncanny.

There aren't many passengers and most of them sit towards the front. This is good. This will make it easier, make it possible.

I go to the rear, almost no one there. I sit down, look around. Behind the seat I am protected. It will be possible. It is doable.

It is such a lovely day, sunshine makes the streets look cheerful, sunshine makes my head full of courage.

Why am I so obsessed? From where comes this idea? I can't do it. No, it is impossible. No one is looking. It is possible. I can't do it.

If someone tells me to do it. That is the answer. I am not free to do what I want. That is the key. I am not my own any more. I sit on the bus and someone is in charge. I have to obey.

I have to hurry. At the next stop someone may board the bus who will sit at the rear, someone who will see.

My hands tremble as I reach under my skirt, my lovely thin, white summer skirt. My fingers feel the fabric of my knickers. This is madness! I have to do it!

I close my eyes, take a deep breath and start to move the knickers down. Like a terrified bird I look around. No one notices me. They are all occupied with other things. That is good.

I shift my position, let the knickers slide down from my bottom. I can't believe I am doing it. Someone has told me to do it. I have to do it. I take a deep breath and continue.

Knickers glide slowly down my thighs. They are free from my bottom.

The bus stops. My heart stops beating. What happens if someone sits close to me? I can't put my knickers back on, and they will fall off if I rise. Have to move quickly.

The old woman sits at the front. A man rises for her. He walks back but sits down three seats in front of me. I can breath.

I slide the knickers close to my knees. Now it has to be done. I have to be quick. Still they are covered by my skirt.

In one movement I let them slip over my knees and with beating heart I feel them fall to my feet. I have to lean forward, free them from my feet, quickly. No one is allowed to see.

Panic takes a hold of me as my knickers get tangled up in my feet. I manage to free them and crumple them into a small ball in my hand. Now I am unclad.

I hide my knickers between the seat and the wall of the bus. I don't know why I have to do this. They have to be lost for me, left on the bus. Makes it more shameful. They will be there, on the bus, when I leave. Someone may find then and wonder, laugh at them.

My cheeks are red. Wonder if someone notice it?

One more thing to do on the bus. I start to pull my skirt up. I have to look around. No one is looking. I have to shift my position again, slowly working my skirt upwards.

I feel the rough seat against my skin. Makes me feel naked. Makes me feel exposed. It is me touching the world, it is my body close against the harsh reality. I am naked underneath my skirt and only I know I am. Only I know my skin is touching the world.

The sense of degradation sweeps through me. I am glad no one sees my humiliation. I don't do this myself. I have to do it.

Elation fills me, and a sense of confidence. And perhaps pride. Humiliation and pride, what a strange combination.

I feel alive, alive and bad.

Someone enters the bus and walks towards me. He can't be allowed to see. My trembling hands make sure my skirt is in order. He won't understand.

He walks past me and I am safe. I take a deep breath.

At the next stop I rise and my skirt falls down. No one can see that I am naked underneath it. I won't look back, won't check the seat. I just leave the bus. I am mad.

My skirt falls to just above my knees. That is scary. The wind may take hold of it, flip it up. Still no one can see.

Unless it is written in my face. Maybe it is. Maybe anyone who sees me knows I am naked underneath my skirt.

I feel naked, more than just knickerless. I seem to be unclad and that anyone looking at me sees how naked I am. My heart beats faster.

My knickers are still on the bus. They are forever gone. And I feel vulnerable, as if anyone can walk up to me, lift my skirt and touch me. As if politeness and inhibitions are gone. Any time now. I walk in a dream.

But I am just another citizen, another girl in skirt walking through the streets. My dream is my dream and soon I will take the bus home. Nothing has happened.

I wonder how I will sit on the bus home.


Paul said...

Janice, for you a little daring.
Me, I know for a fact that a lot of women go knicker-less and not just submissives.
You'd be surprised what one sees on a breezy summer day even in the far west.
I always enjoy you Janice, only you can make the ordinary so interesting.
Warm hugs,

Anonymous said...

Well done - I remember you writing to me about something similar, one of my earlier posts when i made K take hers off in a restaurant.....its still a favorite game and has cost me quite a bit in knickers over the years...but worth the rush it gives


Anonymous said...

If I found your knickers, on a bus, I'd wash them and perhaps wear them myself for a while--as long as they weren't frilly, silly, or thongy things. It would be amazing to do that and never know that the owner enjoyed being spanked--even more amazing to find it out! x

Anonymous said...

What an intriguing story. Exciting and, yes, daring. Even more so if someone had told you to do it.

I've never gone knickerless...what a prude! But then I mostly wear trousers. I think it would be more exciting to be knickerless under a skirt though.

Hmmm, now you have me thinking.


Anonymous said...

Wonderful, and different.

Oh, how I hope you carry this fantasy out sometime... it is eminently doable... and you would feel so exhilarated, and NAUGHTY, afterward, would you not?



Janice said...

Dear Paul, you are such a gem. Thank you for your encouragement. '...make the ordinary so interesting.' That is really what I want to do.

Dear Recidavist, yes, I have touched upon the subject before...chuckles. More than one reader has hinted at me being obsessed with knickers or the lack of...smiles.

Dear Anonymous, what an honour. They would not be frilly or thongy but perhaps silly.

Dear Mina, I think it is not the same if wearing trousers. Something with skirts that gives you ideas.

Dear Wystan, I feel naughty writing about it...giggles.



Ollie said...

What a lovely scene, the combination of fear and excitement was gently arousing. And the idea that you'd been told to do it... Who by ? By that insistent inner voice which says "Go on - I dare you" perhaps?

The next time I ride a bus I'll check behind the seat cushions - just in case.

Janice said...

Dear Ollie, I am a little intrigued by the reactions to the hidden knickers. This detail seems to have triggered the imagination. I saw it as a kind of humiliating detail, imagining someone making fun of them. It is far from my mind minding those other ideas. No, on the contrary, I do love to hear those thoughts. It is fascinating that a story can trigger so much different fantasies and ideas.