Clara Vs. Gravity

Clara sprang into action, desperately trying to keep her swaying breasts from tumbling into full display as she struggled to control her errant undergarment. One hand desperately fumbled for the hem of the slippery knickers as the other clutched her tits, her nipples popping merrily over the side of her arms.

The gravity had her feet locked into place, preventing her from shuffling away. All she could do was shift awkwardly from side to side, wiggling her hips as she struggled to haul the red lace panties back up her curvy thighs.

The audience tittered appreciatively as she squirmed, red-faced, trying to keep her forearm positioned between her legs. The gravity field was teasing her, letting her get her panties almost all the way back up to safety before hauling them down again with a sudden jerk, giving the eager crowd a tantalising peek of her clean-shaven mound of Venus, the intimate details of her sex peeking out from behind the flimsy silk.

Clara, flustered, couldn't think of anything to say. With one mighty pull she tugged the panties all the way back up, and the gravity field chose just that moment to let go, making her wince at the unintentional pressure on her pussy. Her mouth was open, her eyes wide with shock and anger. She wanted to say something like "Stop looking!" or "This isn't funny!", but she couldn't quite articulate the words.

She felt the kiss of warm air on her nipples, and hastily let go of her panties, both arms flying to cover her breasts as she wriggled in the spotlight. The crowd was loving it. Clara scowled at the gathered extra-terrestrials, some pink, some green, some blue, some made of metal or clad in sheathes of seaweed, some to all appearances just perfectly ordinary human beings.

Was that Dalek up the back... laughing? Could they even do that?

She folded her arms primly across her tits and rose to her full height, intending to give the aliens a piece of her mind. At which point the gravity field, with one single strong tug, jerked her panties right down around her ankles and kept them there.

Clara's squeal echoed through the theater. Her hand flew to cover her pussy, but didn't quite make it. Instead, the **** of gravity seized her wrists.

Clara's arms were **** up over her head, raised high into the air as the field coalesced around her. She whimpered, trying and failing to shift her knicker-entangled feet, as she was **** to stand to attention at centre stage. Hands up in surrender, legs slightly parted to stretch out her knickers and give a clear view of the naked, sensitive mysteries between her thighs.

Her breasts hung free, bouncing gently for the spectators' amusement, her pink nipples stiffening as the gravity field raised and dropped them. Her hair was tousled, flowing unkempt around her pretty face. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't move.

Clara whimpered as the laughter rose to a crescendo, feeling the heat of shame flood into her pretty cheeks. The panties round her ankles only accentuated her nudity. And she was, in fact, very, very nude.

Stupid TARDIS.