The Game, Part Three
Part Three
Was I really about to do this?
Everything leading up to now was a bit of a blur. Why did I agree to do dares in the middle of a Sunday morning service? I didn’t care what Abigail or Kate thought of me, and it’s not like a simple game would change their minds towards me anyway. I’d still be Abby’s older sister, and things would go on as always. Me, rolling my eyes at their antics. Them, rolling their eyes at what they viewed as ‘boring.’
Yet somehow, I let Abigail get under my skin, and I agreed to play this stupid game.
I was already nervous that my heels were off and out of reach. Barefoot in church. Not a sin, but definitely a little inappropriate. Before, I was nervous that Kate could easily grab my only footwear and walk away after the service, but that was an afterthought at this point. I’d rather be barefoot all morning than deal with the coming task. Remove my underwear. During church. While Abigail and Kate got a front row seat to the embarrassing task. I’d never live this down, yet I already felt committed. Compared to being covered in coffee, this was the lesser evil; it would draw the least attention all morning. I’d just have to walk around acting normally while going commando for quite literally the first time in my life.
Abigail pinched my arm, breaking me out of my thoughts. A tiny squeak of surprise escaped from the back of my throat, only loud enough for the two girls beside me to hear. I could feel my cheeks flush all over again, and I subtly glanced towards Abigail with a glare. She just responded with an equally subtle nod towards my legs.
Impatient brat.
The sermon started a minute or two ago, but I had no idea what was said so far. Too much focus was on my annoyance with Abigail, as well as my own worried thoughts. What if someone sees? What if Kate tells? I know my sister has a code when it comes to secrets, but her friend might not have the same discretion. Regardless, I had to get moving. It was a pinch this time, but it could be a cold, sticky drink next time.
Hiking my skirt up was out of the question. The girls’ legs on either side of me might offer partial cover, but it wouldn’t be enough. There was simply no way to expose so much bare leg and then reach under my skirt without being noticed, especially now that we had reached this part of the service. No, I had to be more creative. And destructive.
Shifting slightly in the pew, I crossed my right arm over my stomach and gripped the waistband of my skirt. After a tiny downward tug, I then used my left hand to gently pull at my underwear until both index fingers and thumbs could get a good grip on a small section of it. The nude panties weren’t exactly exciting in color, as they weren’t meant for anything but blending in underneath nice outfits, but they were incredibly comfortable. Hopefully they were still in stock wherever I got them. I’d have to check the tag. Because in a minute, they were going to be ruined.
Ignoring Abigail’s amused exhale, I tightly gripped the fabric with my fingertips. I didn’t want to do this on Abigail’s side, but my left was the most discreet. No one was directly behind us near the edge of the pew, which meant my sister would hopefully be the only witness. Pushing up with my left thumb and down with my left index finger while holding the fabric firmly in place with my other hand, I dug at the soft material with my fingernails. It was annoyingly resistant, and it was impossible to get consistent leverage. Finally, by pinning a spot with my nail, my thumb was able to press upwards enough to make the fabric give.
I cringed when I heard the faint ripping sound.
It was one of those things that was objectively quiet, but felt SO loud since I was the paranoid one trying to be as discreet as possible. Ignoring Abby’s smirk in my peripherals, no doubt a result of the combination of seeing my underwear poking out of my skirt in church and the way I decided to go about my dare, I continued the arduous task of ripping apart my own panties. One little hole in the smooth fabric was enough to give me a little more leverage, but it didn’t mean the material would simply tear as easily as a sheet of paper. I had to keep adjusting my grip with fingers and nails, softly pinching and tugging all while trying to sit still in the church pew at the same time. The waistband and the leg hole were by far the most frustrating sections, requiring a good amount of shifting and twisting until both sections finally yielded to my persistent attempts.
Despite the achievement, the resulting ‘freedom’ didn’t feel that great, especially after shoving the torn underwear back underneath my skirt for modesty’s sake. The nude panties bunched up on both sides of my leg, leaving the top of my thigh bare against my skirt and the other parts a strange combination of covered and uncovered. I wasn’t done yet. One leg hole still remained intact, and at this point I was determined to see this plan through instead of bailing halfway and trying to awkwardly slide the remaining half down one leg.
Abby had her turn to watch me fiddle with my underwear, and now Kate had her chance to watch. Shifting slightly in my seat, I reluctantly tugged at the delicate waistband until it was visible on the opposite side and then began the whole process all over again. One little hole, then a series of pinches and rips; the ends that were just as tedious the second time around. Every little tearing sound made me cringe from both the destruction and the nervousness, and made Abby’s best friend quietly amused.
Tucking the torn fabric back under my skirt when I was done, I took what felt like the first breath since I first pulled at the waistband on Abby’s side. The most difficult obstacles were out of the way, but there was still more to come.
My underwear was very much wedged between my ass and the wooden pew beneath me. There was no way I’d be able to pull from the back, as that would require way too much fidgeting, as well as sticking my arm pretty obviously behind my back to complete the task. Anyone sitting behind us would notice. Actually, pulling from the front made a lot more sense anyway. Instead of fully lifting off the seat, I could just brace my back on the pew.
Committing before Abigail could nudge or threaten me, I did just that.
Back pressed against the pew and bare feet firmly planted on the floor, I lifted myself up just a fraction of an inch. Enough so my body wouldn’t be pinning the loose underwear down. I used one hand to cover my crotch with an open bulletin, and slipped a few fingers underneath the waistband of my skirt with the other hand. Finding a firm grip on the panties, I slowly and deliberately tugged.
It was surprisingly easy. After a moment of faint resistance, the delicate fabric glided underneath my rear cheeks, between my legs, and finally rested over my crotch as I paused to deliberate what the best approach was to fully removing them. Deciding not to overthink it, I pulled the panties the rest of the way out before I lost my nerve, simultaneously bunching them up in my hand while the bulletin in my other hand still offered me cover. It wasn’t until I lowered myself back down and my ass connected with my skirt and only my skirt that it truly hit me.
I was going commando. For the first time ever. At church.