This is embarassing, but, I am the engineer of my own humiliation. Most of the time, I go commando, by choice, unless circumstances dictate otherwise. I'm sure there are many women here that do the same.

For my first task, I was to purchase some panties, the frillier the better, and let him choose which ones I was to wear that evening. I had to wear them from the time the trick or treaters started to come until 11:00 or so. After that, I was to put my panties in my mouth and play with myself or taste my juices and cum. (I had an aversion to tasting it, too.)

Below is the my report along with his comments. My nom de guerre is Ponytail.

Report for Mr. Wolff:

How I spent Halloween Night Wearing a Pair of Scratchy Panties by Ponytail


The panties were scratchy from the word 'go.' They were pretty, oh so pretty, hanging just below the curve of my buttocks. Unfortunately, they would get wrinkled once my tight jeans covered them up.

The whole time I was thinking why the fxxk was I doing this. Then I knew, the strings...

W: You wanted the jeans. A|O I know that 'why the f******* am I doing this' but it is not just the strings...

*Mr. Wolff, you didn't tell me what to wear with the panties. I couldn't go to the door wearing black panties...how am I to know what you were thinking.


Candies were waiting for the revelers by the door and the bell rang, like it was on repeat...over and over. The characters that came to the door were adorable, little angel, cat, witch, fireman, goblin, and one or two Dr. Seuss. Evey time I bent down to put a piece of candy in their tote, that lace went up the crack of my ass, like little pin pricks. Damn...why??? The strings...

W: yes the strings

* (sotto vocce) They're not strings, they're fucking rubberbands! If they were strings that could break, I'd be outta here.


Drinking beer helped divert attention from the nagging presence of the panties on my bald pussy. I would laugh at some of the reveller's rhymes and jokes, waving to the parents, our neighbors. If only they knew what I was wearing, why, and most importantly, for whom...The strings....


W:"if only they knew" strange feeling - noting (or nothing much) is going on yet - SO much is going on.

*You're not kidding...(she says sarcastically)

W:'for whom' - I said I was honored - I am ... you have fed the power in the strings believe it or not.

*(sotto vocce) Dang! I knew I shouldn't have done that! Now he's going to make me wear girdles!

Why did I wear those blasted panties. They bother me. I've thrown almost all of mine away. Then, today I bought 2 panties for ...the strings...and wore them thinking the person who holds the strings...

W: When a person is told that someone precious is wearing panties just for him, he is much - he gets a ragging mind-hard on (and not only mind lol)

*(sotto vocce) This ponytail would like to see the effects...Mr. Wolff

At the end of the candy convention, I ran to the computer for readings telling me where to drive next. It wasn't too difficult to drive, just a bump and a detour, but I made it. I tasted a warm gently briny slippery juice. It wasn't bad, not at all.

* (Actually, I lied. It tasted terrible...but, I'm a honey and peanut butter girl)

Now I know why someone would not be averse to tasting this type of beverage.* (NOT) It takes a lot of effort to collect this kind of juice but ultimately worth the effort. *Did I say that?

So the strings pulled...

W: One of the precious beverages of the world ... Of course - the more effort, the more precious - but even if it comes easy, still precious ... I hope there will be more of it - much more.

*(sotto vocce) Hopefully, it's not going into MY mouth...

As I'm writing this essay in an effort to describe the effects of the strings, I struggle with a deep, cloud-like, buffeted state of consciousness akin to being half awake and half asleep, not in need of climax or desiring one, because the whole trip was one. It has left me drained, but maybe not sated, the string still pull.

*I really wasn't high, just stressed out from the anxiety of wearing those fucking panties.

W: Drained and maybe not sated. Like a meal that is nourishing but just a little smaller that you wanted?

*Butt, I never got to see the menu!

W: And you know there are more where it came from?

*Will I get to see the menu then?

W: Great description of performer-space (for lack of better word)

What are the strings? They are invisible controls, manipulated by a clever puppeteer. He designed the game, the parameters, and the level of play, beginner, intermediate, and beyond. He challenged me, not overtly, but through suggestion, to stick my toe outside the box...while he held on to the string.

*Ouch...let go! Ouch...