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Dear Auntie Helga, That Sunday in May 1955 changed my life forever. You see, the Friday before I really pissed off my 5th grade principal. Sadly for me, Sister Mary Margaret didn't see the humor in my flipping up the back of Kathy Robert's dress exposing her shinny pink nylon lace-trimmed panties for everyone on the playground to see. Kathy wasn't exactly pleased about my widdle prank either. After nearly pulling the ear off the side of my face Sister drug me from the laughter of gleeful children on the playground to her dungeon-like office. There in she promptly shoved me into a chair as she proceeded to call my mother, demanding that she come to the school at once to discuss my insensitive behavior. Condensing a long and boring lecture first from the Nun, then my mom in the car all the way home, the bottom line was that when I returned to school the following Monday, I was to be wearing a little girl's dress, slip, anklets, and of course, shinny pink nylon panties trimmed with lace, similar attire which I would have to wear to school each day the week. Saturday was rather quiet with mom out shopping most of the day leaving me to believe that I was off the hook. My father was out of town on business and my older brother slept in after a hard night at his high school dance, once again without a date. A stud he wasn't. Saturday evening mom and I had a quiet dinner alone and that suited me just fine, as I feared that any attempt on my part at meaningless chatter might remind her of the punishment Sister had imposed. I was sure that mom wouldn't actually make me go to school dressed up like a sissy little girl, least not till I went to my bedroom to change into my pajamas. To my horror, there on my bed was a very sissy little pink and white dress. Lying on the dress was a white nylon slip, a pair of white lace-trimmed anklets, and gad! Mom had also place a pair of shinny pink nylon panties with the leg opening trimmed in white lace. I went numb. I tried to yell for my mom but nothing came out. Tears began to flood my eyes. This wasn't happening to me. There was no way that I was going to school in those sissy clothes, No way. Never. Wasn't gonna happen! Before I had regained some semblances of masculine composure, mom came in all smiles asking me if I approved of my pretty new clothes. I was flabbergasted and speechless. Before I could voice my opinion of this nasty turn of events, mom laid another bomb on me, ordering me to remove all my clothes and try on "my" new panties; and to my intense fright, she handed me a short little pink satin nightie, instructing that I was to sleep that night in my new silky panties and night gown to prepare me for tomorrow when I would spend the day practicing to be a sweet little girl in preparation for next week. Sleep was impossible that night between my older brother's teasing and my boy equipment refusing to lay down beneath the smooth silky panties I was wearing. My dread of things to come tomorrow tormented me all night. Gad! If the guys see me dressed like a sissy little girl my life was over! My thoughts raced to Kathy, knowing that she was going to make my life a living hell, not to exempt her weird sissy friends. Skipping the hell of that Sunday, walking into school on Monday exceeded my every expectation and fear. Immediately every boy and girl in the school gathered around me, giggling and teasing me to the point of serious sissy tears. I mean, what was I supposed to say! Jes! I wanted to die, to scream out that I was a boy, which of course would have made matters worse. Well, not exactly. See it was about then that Sister Margaret arrived behind me quickly lifting the back of my dress and slip to see that I was wearing the required pink silky panties and dainty little white nylon slip under my dress. Gad that sounds funny saying "my dress". 
Unfortunately I made the mistake of yelling out a minor obscenity for which Sister promptly spanked my panty-clad widdle butt hard enough to made me scream out sounding just like a little girl, which of course sent the kids all around me into fits of laughter and giggles, more teasing and taunts. Even the teachers were enjoying my pain and humiliation. It wasn't long before the Nun was dragging me throughout the school being sure that every man, woman, and child saw me, especially my silky pink panties as she frequently lifted my dress to show off my "pretty panties and slip". After some 50 years I still feel the pain and humiliations of that week. I never go a day that I don't think about how those silky panties and slip felt rubbing my bare legs and ever-stiff picnic attachment. I can't forget the feel of those short little dresses swishing around my legs as I walked, or my constant fear each time I sat down of kids trying to look up my dress. The memories are extensive of that week, remembering when a gang of 8th graders grab me, pulling up my dress, then my slip, then fondling my privates with my panties, threatening to pull them down to see if I was really a sissy little girl. What made this experience so painful was that several teachers and nuns watched this torment and abuse, doing nothing to stop it. Each morning mom set out fresh clean silky panties, slip, and an even sissier little dress, saving the sissiest of all dresses for Friday. That Friday mom made me wear a short, very dainty and frilly pink satin and lace party dress, worn over a stand-out petticoat, over of course, pink satin panties and white lace-trimmed anklets. Death would have been a blessing. My point to this nightmare is that what was done to me in the name of "discipline", was far more devastating than being secretly fondled and or masturbated by a priest. My molestation was very public and pain caused has lasted me a lifetime. Reminders visit me all the time, be it old classmates, relatives, or seeing in a little girl all dressed up in a short frilly dress with lace-trimmed anklets and Mary Jane shoes, an 11 year old boy feeling erotic sensations, locked in the chains of embarrassment and humiliation. Stories of others victimized by Petticoat Discipline serve to ease my pain by letting me know that my discipline was not an isolate case, being more realistically, quite common. Sites like Petticoat Discipline Quarterly relax the guilt experienced as I secretly satisfy the urge in me to relive the feeling of that week by slipping on a pair of silky panties, a satin slip, maybe a dainty little girl style dress. Sensations and feelings I might never have none had I not been Petticoat Disciplined. I've never had the desire to be a little girl, nor do I lust after little girls or any children of either gender as a result of my abuse, but none-the-less I've never been able to replace the sensations felt by the experience of wearing little girls' silky panties etc. Ben PDed Thank you for your letter Ben. Teasing the little girls will get you into trouble every time, and possibly into girl's clothes for some well deserved punishment. Auntie Helga |