As she uttered the final word, Katrina’s grip tightened, starting to slowly raise her hand. At a cruel and drawn-out pace, Miss Vicksen’s panties were being pulled into a slow-motion wedgie, hoisted solely by her underwear’s little white tag. At first, the waistband just lifted higher from the back, pulling tight between the crevice of Olivia’s two bodacious cheeks. But soon, all the tension building from behind began to impact the opposite side, as the panties’ front panel was now being pulled back underneath through Miss Vicksen’s legs.
Olivia was simply beside herself, feeling her underwear (and her career) painfully start to slip from her control. Her first big chance to be seen as the authoritative figure in class, to be looked up to as a woman of stern discipline and scholarly knowledge; only to have everyone see that same woman comically reduced down to a busty pair of bouncing boobs, two trembling towers of knee-knocked legs, and a paper-thin swatch of cotton stretched so tightly over her lips, not even a camel could tell the difference.
The riled up group of spectators had again been turned speechless, all quietly observing Miss Vicksen’s erotic magic act, debuting her microscopic set of slowly disappearing panties. Every single camera lens had promptly zoomed in with pinpoint focus, all aimed squarely between those two thick thighs, patiently waiting for the priceless shot of that little pink g-string fatefully slipping past the point of no return. And as the fatal hand continued its rise, and the panties’ front triangle shrunk deeper between her writhing legs, Miss Vicksen’s humiliation (and a bit of arousal) finally reached a breaking point, resulting in one last **** plea.
“Oh god Katrina, please, PLEASE don’t do this!” Olivia wailed in despair, “I’m sorry for how I treated you in high school, okay? Just please... LET ME GOOO-!”
*SNAP*
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