Show and Tell - and Then Show Some More
by Mr. Flip
Part 4

Author's note: This story was inspired by Lazerou's recent "My Very Own" story on this site. I intend for this story to have more of an ENF theme to it, but there is significant discipline and light bondage involved in this part of the story.

Introduction

Let me start with some background info that will set the stage for my continuing story.

My name is Patricia Schofield. I am a 27-year-old woman, and I'm deeply in love with another 27-year-old woman, Cassandra Campbell. We are very much alike physically, but polar opposites otherwise. We have a dominant/submissive relationship; she is the dominant, I am the submissive. Sex is a huge part of our relationship, and it goes well beyond the wonderful physical episodes in bed. For the last several months, she has required me to get completely undressed every time that I enter her townhouse and then remain naked there until I leave. And then, last Saturday, she displayed me naked and bound all day at a Show and Tell event followed by a naked trip to our favorite restaurant for Sunday brunch. I should point out that she remains clothed at home and on these trips out in public; I am the only naked one. I don't really mind being naked at her home, but I sure don't like being naked out in public. However, I reluctantly go along with it because I love her so much and because our sexual lovemaking is so wonderful.

We both work for a large software company; I am a secretary; she is a top-notch programmer. She has submitted a request to the company for me to come to work completely naked. That request is still pending, but in the interim, she dresses me in provocative clothing without any underwear - no panties, no brassiere.

She has nicknamed me "Pet", because it sort of fits my place in the relationship, and it is similar to "Pat" which is what other people call me. I am required to call her "Ma'am" or "Madam"; other people address her as "Cassie", but I never do.

The previous chapter ended with me leaving work today (Thursday). It has been a stressful day at work for me. I had a meeting with the head of our personnel department, Joanne Harding (aka Mrs. Hardass), and she made me do some embarrassing things in the nude in her office. Harding said she'd fire both me and my lover if I didn't do what she said, and I just can't let my lover lose the programming job that she enjoys so much.

Harding did give me a shirt to wear when I left her office, but it is even more provocative than the one my lover had assigned for me to wear this morning. And that shirt is the only clothing that I'm wearing here in my car, as my story continues.

Thursday Dinner

I just sit in my car for a minute or so thinking about what I need to do next, and I decide to drive to the upscale grocery store nearby to see what they have at the deli counter. I know what my lover likes at this place. It only takes me a couple of minutes to get there, and I'm lucky to get a parking spot only a few spaces down from the front door.

I pause before getting out of the car, because this will be a new experience for me. I haven't yet been out shopping wearing skimpy clothing like this, and there are lots of people at the store doing just what I'm doing - that is, shopping for dinner. But they are all much better dressed than I am.

However, I know what I have to do, and I grab my purse and swing my legs out of the car. But I realize that I've forgotten the reusable cloth shopping bag that my lover insists that we must use. I stretch to reach into the back seat to grab the bag, and the shirt pulls almost up to my belly button. If someone had been sitting in the big SUV next to me, they would have gotten an eyeful of my bare pussy. But the vehicle is empty, and I pull the shirt down and just hurry barefoot into the store.

The deli counter is all the way at the back, and I carefully select the "Breakfast" aisle as the least crowded route to the deli at this time of day - my lover taught me this trick. I'm surprised to see that the deli area is not very busy, and I'm able to look over their selections for the day. I quickly spot the rigatoni that my mistress loves.

I'm almost ready to ask the guy to dish up two servings, but then I see the vegetarian rigatoni right next to the meaty rigatoni. I know what I must do, and I tell him, "One serving of the meat rigatoni and one serving of the vegetarian version." He gives me a strange look, but he does what I ask. He puts the two containers on the top of the high deli case and asks if I want anything else. "No, that's all. I'll get some salad from the salad bar and pay at the front register."

Then, I reach up to get the two containers, and I realize once again that the shirt is riding pretty far up my legs and the underarm cutouts are wide open. But there is nothing I can do about that except to be as quick as I can. As I drop the containers into my basket, I see two older ladies staring at me. I don't know if they saw my ass or boobs, but they certainly saw a lot of leg. I blush, but I just walk by them to go over to the salad bar.

I quickly throw together a salad from the fixings on display. I put some ham chunks in a separate compartment of the container; those are for my lover, because I don't think she'll allow me to have any of those. And a separate small container of ranch dressing.

On the way to the front register, I grab a baguette of sourdough French bread and a bottle of California Beaujolais wine. This will be a quick and wonderful springtime meal.

There's a line at each of the checkout registers, even the express lane has two people ahead of me. One of those older women who was watching me at the deli gets in the checkout lane right behind me. She says, "Young woman, where are your shoes and socks? Don't you know that you have to have shoes on in here?" Then, I feel her hand on my shirt, and it seems that she is going to try to lift it up.

I swat her hand away and I whisper angrily to her, "Ma'am, there's no such rule about shoes in this store."

She replies, "Well, maybe not, but you better watch your step; you never know what you might step in." But I turn away from her. And as she sort of leans over my shoulder, she continues in a whisper soft voice, "You aren't wearing anything underneath that shirt, are you, dearie?"

Thankfully, it's now my turn to check out. I glance back at her and hiss very quietly, "None of your business." And I walk to the end of the counter and slide my credit card through the machine to pay for my food. I stare daggers back at the woman and hurry out of the store.

Just as I'm about to get to my car, I step right on a small rock with my left heel. It's just a piece of loose gravel, but it sure hurts. I yelp and almost drop my bag of groceries. I limp the last few steps to my car being careful to avoid any more such rocks. Once inside my car, I bring my left leg up so I can look at my sore heel. Fortunately, there is still no one in the SUV next to me or walking nearby, because my pussy is in full view now through the car windows. I'm glad to see that there is no blood, but there is a big red spot. That old lady was sure on the right track about my lack of shoes. I slam the door and start up my VW.

The drive to my apartment is blissfully uneventful except for the ache in my left foot. I hobble from my carport spot to my apartment deciding to skip getting my mail, because I'm moving slow with a tight timetable ahead of me, and I checked it just yesterday, and even if there is something, it's probably nothing important anyway.

The walk up the outside steps to my front door is very painful. My downstairs neighbor, Gil Williams, a young guy about my age, opens his door just as I'm nearing the top of the stairs. I quickly limp up the last couple of steps, because these steps are very open, no risers, just a single center support beam, and he could easily look up under my short shirt and see everything. I quickly open my front door and let myself in.

I'm just about ready to dash into my bedroom and empty my lingerie drawer, but I pause as I remember that my lover has told me that I must be naked at home. So, even though I'm going to be here for only a few minutes, I slip off the short shirt, carefully fold it, and put it on the chair near my front door. I'm completely alone in the privacy of my own home, but, just like last night, I feel my lover's presence - even though she is several miles away.

I make a quick pit stop in the bathroom to pee, and I carefully clean my pussy afterwards. My lover would certainly detect any uncleanliness down there.

Then, I grab a big plastic Nordstrom's bag from my closet and scoot over to the dresser drawers. A few months ago, my lover laughed when she saw my unorganized drawers - bras, panties, and stockings all mixed together in the three drawers. She pointed out how much more logical it would be if my brassieres were in the top drawer, panties in the middle drawer, and socks in the bottom drawer - just like on my body where the bra is on top, panties in the middle, and stockings at the bottom. So, it only takes a couple of scoops in the top drawer to get the bras into the Nordstrom's bag and two more scoops in the second drawer for all of my panties. I sigh as I look at the empty drawers before closing them.

My heel still hurts like hell, but I force myself to run back into the living room. I reach for the short light blue T-shirt on the chair, but I stop before putting it on. I remember that there are several soiled panties and bras in the laundry basket in my closet. I wince as I dash back into the bedroom and open the closet door again.

The big laundry basket is overflowing with dirty clothes. Not only panties and brassieres, but socks, shirts, jeans, pajamas, etc. I'm still totally naked as I dump the clothes onto the floor and start to sort through them. I quickly find 3 bras and two pairs of panties. I look quickly through the clothes for more bits of underwear, but I don't see any. So, I grab another plastic bag, a smaller one from Kohl's, and jam the soiled undies into it. And I put the other clothes back into the laundry basket. But something doesn't feel right. I pause for a moment and then realize that there should have been the same number of panties as bras. Where the hell is the other pair of panties?

I panic as I dump out the basket again. I'm almost wildly tossing the clothes around looking for the panties. No sign of them! I limp into the bathroom thinking that I might have left them there over the shower curtain rod or on the edge of the tub. Not there either. I'm becoming really worried as I limp out to the living room and glance around. Nothing. And nothing in the kitchen either. Oh, fuck, I'm going to be in real trouble with my lover!

I'm almost crying as I return to the bedroom. They're not under the bed or on the closet floor. I start to cry out loud as I resign myself to my fate. I'll probably be assessed another DD for losing the panties or being late to get to her place. Tears roll down my cheeks as I pick up the clothes that I tossed around earlier and I drop them back into the laundry basket. As I pick up the last pair of jeans, something catches my eye. There's a pair of white bikinis inside the jeans. I must have been in a hurry some night and slipped off my panties and jeans together before tossing them together into the basket. The tears turn from sorrow to joy as I drop the bikini panties into the Kohl's bag.

I put the dirty clothes basket back into the closet and dash as well as I can back to the living room. I pick up the T-shirt, but before slipping it over my nude body, I look at the label. It says L for large. It's no wonder that it doesn't cover as well as the dark blue XL (extra large) one that my lover gave me this morning. But there is nothing I can do about that, and I put my head and arms through the openings. After I pick up the Nordstrom's and Kohl's bags, I pause for an instant to look at myself in the tall mirror near my front door. I guess I should be thankful that I'm not totally nude, but it is still jarring to see myself so underdressed. I sigh as I walk out the front door and lock it.

I peek over the railing to see if Gil, the downstairs neighbor, is still down there, but he is not. And so, I limp down the stairs and out to my car.

As I settle into my driver's seat, I'm suddenly uncertain about something. My lover has told me that I'm to wear clothes (such as this T-shirt) as I'm driving to and from work, but I'm supposed to be nude at other times. But I don't know if this drive from my apartment to her townhouse qualifies as part of my drive from work to her place where I will be spending the night. I sigh, and I reach down and pull up the shirt. As it passes my boobs, I pause. I need to get this right, because I'll be punished if I get it wrong. She wants me to be clothed at work and on the way to and from work, but she wants me naked otherwise. I'm in never-never land at the moment. Finally, I decide that I'm still on the way home from work, and I let the shirt drop back down over my boobs and onto my thighs. I hope I've made the right decision here.

It only takes me a few minutes to drive to my lover's place, but I'm still not used to driving barefoot, and I almost have an accident when my right foot doesn't plant firmly on the brake pedal and slides off; I stop only a foot or so from the car in front of me at the stop sign. I'm sure that my aching left foot doesn't help the situation either.

I park in my usual spot out front, and as I get out of the car, I survey the several things that I need to take into the house - the stack of ten T-shirts, the folded white body stocking, the two bags of underwear, my purse, the envelope, and the bag of groceries. None of them are very heavy, but it would be awkward to carry all of them in one trip considering my sore foot and my minimal clothing. So, two trips it is.

I gather up my purse, the envelope, and the underwear bags and then limp up the long sidewalk to her front door. Since I know she's not home, I'm allowed to use the key she's giving me. Actually, I don't know for certain that she's not home, but it's only 5:50 and she said she won't be home till 6:30. But what if she has come home early? So, just to be sure, I ring the doorbell and wait for a minute before using my key.

I strip off the T-shirt, fold it neatly on the leather bench in the vestibule and scoot over to her chair where I place the underwear for her inspection. I'm naked as I return to the front door. Am I allowed to put the T-shirt back on for this trip back to my car? I sigh as I decide that I must make this second trip naked. I grab my car keys and look hesitantly out the front door. No one is around and I scoot as fast as my sore heel will allow me out to my car. I bend into the passenger seat of my VW bug to get the stack of T-shirts and the body stocking, and then I have to bend even more to get the bag of groceries from the back seat. I detect movement behind me, and I'm sure that whoever is there is getting a grand view of my butt and pussy lips from behind. There's nothing I can do except to be as quick as I can. I'm thankful that the stack of clothing provides some cover as I press them to my chest while locking up my car. I hesitantly turn to see who was watching me, but no one is there. The sunlight is filtering through the swaying tree leaves, and I realize that is the motion that I had detected. I smile at my needless bit of anxiety.

Once again, I limp up the long walk to the front door carrying the clothes and the groceries. As I step up onto my lover's front porch, I detect motion again. I glance over and see the curtains of the next door townhouse move, and the face of the older woman appears a moment later. She gives me a cold stare and shakes her head, but she continues looking until I close the door behind me.

It's a relief to have privacy inside again. I place the stack of T-shirts on the bench next to the other shirt that I had taken off moments ago. I re-fold the white body stocking and put it on the bench. Then, I put the groceries on the kitchen counter. Next, I immediately go back into the living room and get the smaller bag with the soiled underwear. I head straight for the laundry area in the attached garage. I dump the dirty underwear into the washer and put it on a gentle wash cycle. It won't be done by the time my lover gets home, but I'm sure she will understand. Next, it's back to the kitchen to deal with the groceries.

I spend the next half hour doing my duty as the Naked Chef - a real naked chef, not the famous TV host. This is not unusual for me, because I have often fixed meals for us here, and I'm always naked when I do it. I slice the bread, set the table, get out the wine glasses, etc. I set two places at the table, one for my lover, and one for me. I am hopeful that she will allow me to sit at the table, but often she has me kneel next to her chair and she will feed me. A few times when she has been upset with me, she has dished my food into a doggie bowl and told me to eat on the floor without using my hands. I really don't like eating like that and slurping wine from a second bowl similar to how I drank coffee from a saucer in "Hardass's" office.

My foot is really throbbing now, but I know what my priorities are. Actually, there is only one priority, and that's pleasing my mistress, who will be home momentarily. And sure enough, at 6:35, I hear the big garage door open, and I listen as her BMW drives in. I smooth out the placemats on the table and limp as fast as I can to a spot near where she will come into kitchen from the garage.

She has a puzzled look on her face, but it quickly changes to a big smile when she sees me standing there naked waiting for her. I smile back at her and say, "Hi, Ma'am. Welcome home. How was your afternoon?" I know I sound like an old housewife, but that's okay, because I would really, really like to be married to this magnificent woman.

She puts down her iPad bag and without saying a word gives me a hug followed by a wonderful extended kiss. Her hand slips down to my bare ass and gives it a squeeze - and it feels marvelous. As we break apart, she gives my left boob a tender squeeze as well.

"Hi, Pet. You look great - as usual. The rest of my day went fine except that the little program that I was writing didn't work out very well, because I ran out of time." I know that I'm responsible for her running out of time, because she had to waste almost an hour with me at lunch time; I bite my lower lip and I know I have a guilty look on my face as I whisper, "Sorry, Ma'am."

She continues, "Anyway, Pet. I heard the washing machine running when I came in, and in fact, there's the buzzer telling us it's done. What's going on?"

I reply, "I hope you don't mind, Ma'am, because some of the panties and bras that you asked me to bring needed to be laundered."

"Oh, Pet. Sometimes your resourcefulness surprises me. I am very pleased. Now, why don't you toss them into the dryer and dish up dinner while I freshen up?"

I love getting compliments like that from her, and I smile broadly as I say "Okay". She playfully swats my butt as I step by her to go out to the garage.

Then she says, "Oh, Pet. Be sure to set the dryer to very low heat - you know, the delicate fabric setting. I don't usually put my lingerie in the dryer, but it's okay to do it this one time."

"Yes, Ma'am, I understand." And she's right about that; I almost always air dry my panties and bras, but there isn't time for that this evening.

But an instant later, my sore left heel hits the threshold of the doorway just in the wrong way, and I let out a little yelp and limp out to the garage. My lover says, "Pet, sweetie, what's wrong?"

"It's nothing, don't worry," I lie. "I just stepped on a rock near the grocery store, and my foot has hurt ever since. It's nothing."

She says, "Oh, honey, it's not nothing. Let me see." She comes out into the garage, and I lean my bare body back against the washing machine and lift up my left foot crosswise in front of me so I can show her the spot. She kneels down in front of me, and I realize that her face is only inches from my now dramatically exposed and spread pussy. Even though she has seen it up close and personal so many times, I am still embarrassed.

But she is focused on my foot rather than my pussy, and she tenderly pokes at the sore spot. I wince a little bit, and she says, "The skin's not broken; it's just red and it will turn into a bruise. You should be fine in a few days." Then, she gives the spot a loving kiss and lowers my foot to the floor. And just before getting up, she kisses the very top of my pussy lips at the point of my bottom pubic triangle. I rest my hand on top of her head as the sexual pleasure washes over me. After she rises, she gently twists both of my nipples and gives me a quick peck on my lips before returning back into the house.

I rest for several seconds relishing the lovely moment that just passed between us, and then I pull all of the damp underwear from the washer and toss it into the dryer along with a fabric softener sheet, because I want those panties and bras to be soft when my lover puts them on. And I carefully select the lowest heat setting before turning on the dryer.

As I walk back into the kitchen, I notice that the pain in my foot is not nearly as noticeable. Did my lover's tender kiss really cure anything? I doubt it, but it sure shifted my attention from the ache to something much more pleasurable. I look down at my tits and see that they have tightened up after her gentle twisting. Oh my, I am feeling wonderful right now!

But now, it's back to business. I pop the rigatoni containers into the microwave, and while they are warming up, I pour the wine. After putting the wine and the sliced French bread on the table, I light the wide candle in the middle of the table and turn down the lights. This is a lovely decorative candle that my lover has made herself; candle making is one of her favorite craft projects. Then, I stand in front of the microwave waiting for it to count down. A minute later, it beeps and I pop the containers out and dish up the rigatoni on her nice plates. As I carry the plates to the table, my lover walks in from the bedroom. Perfect timing!

She has changed into a T-shirt and short shorts plus a pair of white socks. She's not wearing a bra, because I can clearly see her nipples outlined under the tan T-shirt, and I suspect that she's not wearing any panties either. I try not to stare.

I stand behind her chair, and after she sits down, I slide her in under the table. Then, I stand next to my assigned seat and wait for her to tell me whether to kneel next to her chair so that she may feed me or to sit in my chair and feed myself.

She says, "Okay, Pet. You can sit down now." I breathe a slight sigh of relief, because I prefer to sit at the table like a normal person and feed myself. Well, a normal person isn't usually naked at the dinner table, but you know what I mean. I see her watching my boobs jiggle as I scoot my chair up to the table. She raises her wine glass and says, "To us." I clink glasses with her and repeat, "To us."

My lover reaches over and squeezes my hand saying, "Pet, thanks, this looks wonderful." We each eat a couple of bites of rigatoni, and she continues, "This is yummy. But yours looks different. What's going on?"

"Ma'am, I know you like rigatoni with that yummy meat sauce, but I thought I should have vegetarian. And, so, mine has mushrooms and bell peppers, but no meat."

"Good girl, Pet. You're starting to think healthy eating. Especially lower calorie options."

I'm not sure how many fewer calories it has, but it actually tastes pretty good. She hasn't said anything about the chunks of ham in her salad that are missing from mine, but I keep my mouth shut.

As we finish the meal, she talks about a few things from work, but I keep silent except to smile, nod, and occasionally say "Yes, Ma'am."

We both finish about the same time, and I pour us each another glass of the Beaujolais wine. She says, "Thanks, Pet. That was a great meal. I know it was simple to fix, but you did a great job of planning and presenting it."

I smile at her saying, "Thank you, Madam."

She goes on, "Anything for dessert? I sure hope you're not planning on just Oreos!"

Actually, I had secretly hoped that she would allow me to put a plate of Oreos on the table for dessert, but I suspect that it might upset her. I say, "Only if that's what you want, Ma'am. But there are some special cheeses in the refrig - Brie and Cotswold. Do you want some of that instead?"

"Yes, please, Pet. That would be nice." She pauses for a moment, smiles, and says, "You'd like Oreos, wouldn't you, Pet?" I sheepishly nod, and she says, "Sorry, but I will let you have some of the cheese."

I do like those cheeses, but I like Oreos better. And I'm not sure how many fewer calories the cheese has compared to an Oreo cookie. I just say, "Thank you, Ma'am." And I head to the refrigerator to get the cheese slices that I had cut earlier.

I return to the table and put the little cheese board on the table next to her. She looks at me and lightly strokes my bare butt. I continue to stand there until she says, "Have a seat, Pet. You may have one slice of the Cotswold."

I would have preferred the Brie, but I say, "Thank you, Ma'am."

After I sit down, she hands me a small slice of Cotswold. I could have snarfed it down in one big bite, but I nibble at it as she eats several pieces of both cheeses.

She leans back and says, "Wonderful dinner, Pet. Let's see, we've got a little bit of unfinished business, don't we?"

I'm confused and so I say meekly, "Sorry, Ma'am, what business is that?"

"Oh, you know, Pet. Last night when you got home to your apartment, how long did it take you to get undressed?"

I breathe a sigh of relief and proudly answer, "Twenty-seven seconds, Ma'am." That's three seconds less than the 30 seconds that I am permitted to have to get naked.

"You sure?"

"Oh, yes, Ma'am. There's a clock with a second hand in my kitchen, and I immediately looked at it when I walked in the door. I quickly got out of the body stocking, folded it, and put it on the kitchen counter. 27 seconds is all it took."

"Good girl. Now, while you clean up, I'm going to clear up this Hardass business for you. If you get finished before I come back, just stand by my easy chair and wait for me."

"Yes, Ma'am." And she grabs her cell phone and heads for her bedroom. I get up to start the cleanup, but I hear her say sharply, "Pet, come here. Right now!"

Uh, oh. What did I do now? I put the plates back on the table and meekly limp into the living room.

She's holding up the Nordstrom's bag and says, "Pet, what's this?"

"Um, Ma'am, that's my panties and bras that you told me to bring."

"I can see that, but what is it doing here in the living room?"

"I put it by your chair so you can look them over."

Ignoring my response, she says, "What's our rule about your clothes, Pet? Where do they belong in this house?"

Uh, oh. Now, I understand and I answer, "Uhhh, on the bench in the vestibule?"

"Yep. And how are they arranged on the bench?"

"Umm, neatly folded?"

"Right again." She pauses and then goes on, "Pet, dear, I'm really disappointed. You did so well this evening with the nice dinner and washing the dirty underwear. But then I find out you did something really stupid, breaking one of our long-standing rules of this house. Get your paddle and come here."

I want to complain that the panties and bras are no longer mine; they now belong to her and should not be subject to the rule. But I meekly turn back to the entryway. Tears are welling up in my eyes as I take the paddle off of its hook on the wall above the leather bench. I return slowly to the living room and hand her the paddle. She has taken her place in the paddling chair and she says, "Position, Pet."

I drape my naked body over her knees with my butt in position to take the swats from her right hand and my boobs hanging down beyond her left knee.

She goes on, "Now, it's not just your foot that's going to be sore." And she rubs the paddle over my right butt cheek in a circular motion.

I'm about to answer, but she goes on, "What time did you get home?"

I'm confused and reply, "I got here about 5:50 PM."

She says, "And let's see, it's 7:27 now. And you are allowed 30 seconds to get your clothes folded on the bench. Each second beyond that results in one swat with the paddle. It's now 97 minutes since you got here, and your clothes are still not on the bench. Let's see, 60 seconds per minute times 97 minutes is 5,820 seconds. Subtracting the 30 seconds that you are allowed means 5,790 swats. FIVE THOUSAND, SEVEN HUNDRED, AND NINETY swats with this paddle! It's going to take a while; so, let's get started." And a moment later the paddle comes down hard on my bare ass.

There's no way my butt can take that, but what can I do? I steel myself for the next swat. But all I feel is her hand on my back and the paddle resting on my butt. She says, "Stand up, Pet, and look at me."

I want to rub my ass as I scramble to my feet. I stand in front of her looking down at her face. She asks, "How many panties and how many bras are in the bag?"

Fortunately, I know the answer to that, because I had carefully counted them before I took them out of the drawer at my apartment. "Twenty two panties, and twenty two brassieres."

"And how many are out in the dryer?"

"Three panties and three bras."

"You're sure about that?"

"Oh, yes, Ma'am. I counted the ones that I put in the Nordstrom's bag. And I originally found only two panties but three bras in my laundry basket. But I found the third pair of panties stuffed inside a pair of jeans. I suspect that . . ."

She interrupts, "Just a minute. How did those three panties and three bras get out to the garage? Did you bring them in through the big garage door?"

I'm confused again, but I answer truthfully, "Oh no, Ma'am. I never use that door without your permission. I brought them in the front door and took them to the garage through the kitchen."

"That's what I thought. And so they passed through the vestibule and into the main part of the house on the way to the garage to be laundered. Right?"

"Yes, Madam."

She interrupts, "So, those 3 bras and panties also broke our none-of-Pet's-clothing-in-the-house rule. So, there are a total of 25 sets of underwear that should be on the vestibule bench right now, but they're not there, are they?"

I want to complain that I would have had to put soiled underwear on the bench or I would have had to use the prohibited garage door. I would have been reprimanded for either of those instead. And I thought I was doing such a great thing by washing them! But I just whisper, "No, Ma'am, they aren't on the bench."

"Go get the ones from the dryer, and bring them back here."

I limp off to the kitchen and out to the garage. Thankfully, the dryer has stopped, and I retrieve the 3 bras and 3 panties. As I return to the living room, I present the underwear to her, but she says, "Put them in the bag with the others." She holds the bag open, and I drop in the still warm underwear.

My lover says, "I'm going to give you the biggest break of your life. I'm only going to spank you 25 times - once for each set of undies. Well, I've already given you one swat. So, get back in position, and you'll get the other 24. Count them off."

As I drape my naked body across her legs, I mumble, "Thank you, Ma'am."

The spanks come fast and furious. I count out each one. "One, two, three, four, five, . . ."

I'm bawling, and my ass hurts like hell as I count, "Twenty four."

I continue to lie there crying waiting for her to tell me to get up. A moment passes before I feel her shoving a butt plug into me. Where the hell did she get that thing from anyway? And I cry even harder, because I don't like things shoved up my ass.

Finally, she almost shoves me off her lap, and I fall to the floor on my knees. She stands up and says sternly, "You've got some duties in the kitchen, Pet. And I've got a phone call to make. When I get back, I expect the kitchen to be clean and the underwear neatly folded on the bench. And I want you kneeling next to my chair. And don't drip on the rug. And keep that plug in place. Understand?"

Between sobs, I answer, "Yes, Ma'am."

Thursday night - Pre-Discipline Discussion

I'm still on my knees crying and totally naked as I watch my lover walk towards her bedroom, and I hear some beeps from her cell phone. Then, I hear her say, "Hello, Joanne, this is Cassie Campbell. I want to talk to you about . . ." And that's the last I hear as she closes the bedroom door.

My ass is on fire, and my heel is still throbbing as I scramble to my feet and limp back over to the table to start picking up the dishes. And for the next 20 minutes, I put away the French bread, wash the wine glasses, run the garbage disposal, etc. I put the plates and silverware in the dishwasher, but I don't start it, because my lover wants to run it only when it is full to save energy and water. I give the kitchen counters an extra wipe, turn off the lights in the kitchen and the dining area, and head back to the living room and retrieve the bag of panties and bras.

I limp over to the bench in the entryway. My lover is very particular about how underwear should be folded. She wants each bra folded so that the right cup is out, and the straps are carefully folded inside the nested cups. And she wants the panties folded in half vertically through the crotch, and then folded in half again with the crotch underneath so that the upper hem shows. She doesn't like the "football" fold that I used to do where the panties are folded into a tight little packet; she says this technique stretches the elastic too much. I carefully but quickly fold the 25 panties first followed by the 25 bras. I arrange them in precise rows on the bench. I have to overlap the panties a little bit so that the underwear and the stack of T-shirts fit on the bench along with the body stocking and clothes from previous days.

I then take my spot next to her chair in the living room. I kneel there with my knees widely spread with the plug in my asshole for another 25 minutes waiting for her to return. A few times, I hear her when she raises her voice in anger, but mostly all I hear is muffled conversation. I'm keenly aware of my nudity as I meekly kneel there. But even with my foot and buttocks throbbing, I can feel the tingling in my pussy, and I know that I'm getting wet down there. So, I reach over and grab a few tissues, quickly wipe my damp pussy, and drop the tissues in the waste basket. I'm able to do all of this without changing my position because the box of tissues is on the table next to her chair and the waste basket is next to the small table.

It's been over an hour since she disappeared into the bedroom. I'm not really concerned about her, because I can hear the faint sound of her voice, and I hear the toilet in her bathroom flush once. The toilet reminds me that I sort of need to pee, but I stay in my assigned spot in the living room. But what is taking her so long anyway?

Finally, I hear the bedroom door open, and I'm apprehensive about what mood she will be in. As she comes around the corner into the living room, I see an exasperated look on her face. I suck in a deep breath and hold it.

My mistress stands in front of me, looks down, and says, "Okay, Pet, here's the deal. I talked with Joanne Hardass and then with Seth and Byron. And I'm sorry, but I wasn't able to cancel your Saturday thing - at least, not completely. In fact, Byron wants me to come with you. And before you ask, the answer is 'No' - I won't be naked. Only you will be. Both Byron and Seth say that this a very important meeting for some very important customers, and not only do they want some entertainment, but they want me to make a technical presentation."

As I said earlier, Seth Northcutt and Byron Wong are the company founders; Byron is now the CEO and Seth the CTO. But my shoulders sag on hearing what my lover said, because I know that I am the "entertainment" that she mentioned, and I will be naked the entire time. I wonder of Seth and Byron know about the planned nudity, but I just bite my lip. My eyes start to water.

My lover goes on, "Pet, I'm sorry that I wasn't able to get you out of this like I promised. But you don't have to spend the entire weekend with them like Hardass wants. You and I will go over there about 11:30 Saturday morning; you'll be a servant for lunch, and then, I'll give my technical talk in the afternoon. And I got her to promise that no one will touch you. We should be out of there by 3 or 4 o'clock. So, it won't be so bad. Right?"

Through my tears, I give her a weak smile and say, "Thank you, Ma'am, for doing what you could." But I'm actually pretty upset that she hadn't gotten my appearance completely canceled like she had led me to believe earlier.

She sits down in her easy chair and says, "Come around and stand on the left side, Pet. I want to relax for a few minutes." I stand up and do as she ordered, and she says, "A little closer and spread your legs, but don't let that plug slide out." I'm now right next to her chair with my open pussy about even with her eyes. She pushes the fancy remote control button to turn on the spotlight above the chair and picks up the company newsletter in her right hand. As she reads the newsletter, she reaches her left hand between my legs and plays with my pussy. Stroking, patting, and even sneaking a finger up into me. Oh, it feels wonderful.

I'm in heaven for the next 10 minutes or so while she reads and fingers me. It's hard to keep still, and I know my pussy juice is flowing freely.

Finally, she puts down the newsletter, but she continues to fondle my pussy. She looks up at me and says, "Well, Pet, we need to talk and then we have some DD's to deal with, don't we?" I just nod. As she turns off the spotlight above the chair, her left index finger brushes lightly over my clit a couple of times sending another pleasurable jolt through me. I sure don't want this wonderful interlude to end, but it does when my lover gets up from her chair.

I can see that her left hand is very wet, and she turns to me and says, "Clean my fingers, Pet. You know the drill." I sink to my knees and take her damp hand. As I suck on her fingers, my eyes are looking up at her; she's smiling at me, and I do my best to smile back at her. After cleaning the fingers, I lick the palm and back of her hand. I really like the almost sweet taste of my vagina juice.

I continue licking and sucking until she pulls her hand away. She disappears into the hallway and a few moments later, she re-appears with a rope that I know so well. I cringe a little bit as she walks back to me. She simply says, "Hands, front", and then she ties my hands together in front of me and tosses the other end of the rope over two of the beams in the cathedral ceiling of the living room. She pulls it so that my arms are raised tightly above me, but not so hard as to force me to stand on tiptoes. Then, she ties it off to the heavy leg of the dining room table.

She comes over to me and arranges my head so that it is between my two raised arms. I am now completely helpless with my naked body completely exposed for her to do with as she wishes.

She says, "Oh, let's get that plug out of you." And she steps around behind me, spreads my ass cheeks, and slides out the butt plug. She disappears for a moment, probably to put the butt plug in a place for me to clean it later.

She returns to the living room, pulls over one of the dining room chairs, and sits down about two feet in front of me. I'm not gagged and my feet are not bound, but I say nothing as she looks me over, and I stand still while she traces her finger around the edges of my pubic triangles.

I actually do not mind being secured like this; in fact, it's surprisingly arousing. My lover has tied me like this many times before, and usually after she plays with my body, we make passionate love in her bedroom. But tonight, I'm uneasy about it.

She sits back, looks at my face, and asks, "Do you know what the FOMC is, Pet?"

"Um, no, not exactly. Is it a rock band?"

She chuckles, "No, Pet, honey, it's the Federal Open Market Committee. Now, do you know what it is?"

I'm bewildered, "Uhh, no, Ma'am, I'm sorry I don't."

She says, "Well, they are part of the Federal Reserve Bank, and they have a dual mandate. They are required by Congress to adjust monetary policy in such a way as to keep inflation down and employment up. Those are often conflicting goals, and the committee has a difficult time figuring out the correct course of action. For example, if they raise interest rates in an effort to fight inflation, that action may cause employers to stop hiring which will cause the unemployment rate to rise."

She pauses and continues looking at me to let it soak in. But I lost her at "dual mandate." I took Economics in college - twice, in fact. I failed it the first time, and got a D+ the second time. It's basically all Greek to me. I'm just a lowly secretary who happens to be tied up naked at the moment. The nation's financial situation just doesn't seem important to me right now. My lover continues to stare at me expecting me to say something.

I shuffle my feet and squirm a little bit trying to think what to say. Finally, I say, "Ummm, sorry, Madam, but I don't understand."

She says gruffly, "Hold still, or I will pull on the rope and stretch you out farther."

I respond meekly, "Sorry, Ma'am." She glares at me for several more seconds and then the look on her face softens and she smiles a little bit.

My lover says, "Well, Pet, yesterday morning I gave you a dual mandate. I told you that you are to remain naked except when you are at work, because the committee at work hasn't approved your request to work in the nude. And I expanded the at-work part of that to include your commute, that is, your trips to and from work. So, your dual mandate was unclothed at home, clothed at work. But as you know, I didn't provide you with very much clothing to wear at work - only a company T-shirt today. No panties, no bra, no shoes, nothing except the shirt. Right?"

"Yes, Ma'am", I answer. But I'm still confused. She's now mentioned two committees - the one at work and the stupid Federal Organic Muggle Committee - or whatever she said. What's the connection?

She continues, "Well, you seem to have done a pretty good job about the unclothed-at-home part of your mandate. But you were nude in Mrs. Hardass's office, and that bothers me enough that I think we need to talk about the clothed at work part of your mandate. I want to know if you were nude any other time today at work. Except for the time with Hardass, did you take off the T-shirt while you were at work?"

"Uhhh, no, Ma'am, I did not."

"I detect a bit of uncertainty in your voice. Come on, Pet, tell me the truth."

"Ma'am, I never took off the T-shirt except in Mrs. Harding's office. But there were at least two times that the shirt raised up and people saw something they shouldn't have seen. The first time . . ."

My lover interrupts, "Good point, Pet. Clothed at work means keeping your privates covered." She smirks a little bit as she goes on, "And I made that a little harder by telling you to keep your knees open while working at your desk without the modesty panel, didn't I?"

I say quietly, "Yes, Ma'am."

"Go on, Pet. I apologize for interrupting you. You said something about the shirt riding up on you at work."

I continue, "Thank you, Ma'am. Anyway, the first time was when I was going over to Harding's office. As I walked up the front steps of the admin building, a gust of wind blew up my shirt exposing my rear and my sex. I didn't think anyone saw me, because the front lobby was empty except for Bonnie the receptionist, and she was looking the opposite direction at the time. But Mrs. Harding subsequently told me that she saw my ass and pussy at that time through the window which is right next to the outside steps. And I suppose other people could have seen out of some other windows. Anyhow, Mrs. Harding said that's how she knew that I was wearing only the T-shirt."

My lover says, "Well, that somewhat explains why she made you take off the shirt in her office. Okay, you said there were two times. What was the other time?"

"Umm, it was not long after you left at lunch time. I was cleaning the coffee break room, and when I reached up to get a new can of coffee creamer from the upper cabinet, my shirt pulled way up. This was the new shirt that Mrs. Harding gave me, and it was shorter than the shirt you gave me this morning. Anyway, at that moment, Nate Singleton walked into the room and saw my bare ass."

She says, "Ah, old Nate. He's so shy around women that I'll bet he was really embarrassed."

I chuckle a little bit, "Yes, Ma'am. He was probably just as embarrassed as I was."

She says, "Okay, what about other times at work? What about at your desk? Did you keep your knees open like I said?"

"Oh, yes, Ma'am. I carefully kept my knees open, but no one acknowledged seeing under my shirt."

"Good. Now, how about your morning commute from your apartment to work?"

"No, Madam. I got some funny looks in the parking lot near our building, but no one saw anything."

She pushes on, "And coming here tonight?" I grimace and before I can say anything, she says, "Uh, oh, Pet. Something happened, didn't it?"

I shyly nod and say, "Yes, Ma'am, at the grocery store. There were a couple of women watching me at the deli counter. You know how you have to reach over the high display case as the attendant hands you your selections." I see her nod, and I continue, "Well, the new T-shirt rode up my legs again, and I suspect they saw my ass, but I'm not sure. Or they could have seen my boob through the big cutout in the side of the shirt, but again, I am not certain. A couple of minutes later, as I was at the checkout counter, one of the old biddies who had been watching me got into line behind me, and she asked if I were wearing anything under the shirt."

"Old biddies, Pet? Careful with your language. I assume that these were older women?" I just nod and mouth "Sorry."

"Well, Pet, how did you answer her?"

"I'm sorry to say that I was rather abrupt with her, and I told her to mind her own business. And I walked out to my car."

She ponders for a moment and says, "That's probably worth a few spanks, because you need to be respectful to older folks. But I'll let it go for now. Anything else happen at the store or on the way here?"

It's hard to have this kind of conversation standing naked with my hands tied over my head, and I unconsciously twist my hips. I'm just about to answer her when she says sharply, "How many times do I have to tell you to stand still? Do you want to be paddled some more? Now, what else happened?"

"Sorry, Madam. Umm, I had to go to my apartment to get my panties and bras. I don't think anybody saw under my T-shirt. As soon as I got into my apartment, I took off the shirt, because I'm supposed to be naked at home. Then, after collecting the underwear from my drawers and laundry basket, I wasn't sure whether or not to put the shirt back on for the drive over here. I finally decided that this last leg of the trip was part of my commute to your house, and I put the shirt back on. It was a tough decision. Did I do the right thing?"

My lover thinks for several seconds, and then she says, "Yes, Pet, that was correct, because you weren't all the way home yet, and thus you needed to be dressed. Now, was there anything else you need to tell me?"

I say, "Yes, Ma'am, there is. Once I got here, I carried in the underwear bags plus the groceries in during the first trip into the house. I carefully removed the shirt and put it folded on the bench. But before going back out to my car to get the stack of T-shirts, I realized that my commute was over, and I needed to remain naked as you told me to be here. So, I walked naked out the front door to my car and got the stack of T-shirts, the body stocking, the envelope and the groceries. When I was carrying them back into the house, the woman next door saw me through her window."

She smiled, "Good girl, Pet, you did that perfectly. Mrs. Simmons is just going to have to get used to seeing you naked. So, is that it? Anything else to tell me?"

"No, Madam, that's all I can think . . ."

She interrupts, "What envelope, Pet?"

"The one Mrs. Harding gave me. It's got some form in it that I need to fill out and give to her on Saturday."

"Where is it, Pet? I want to see this form."

I'm getting uneasy now as I say, "Uhh, it's on the bench. Probably next to my purse."

She gets up from the chair and goes to the entryway leaving me hanging in the living room. It takes her longer than I expected to return. She says, "It was under the stack of shirts. And it's kind of rumpled and the edge of it is wet. This thing might be important. Why is it wet? Was it in the bag with the groceries?"

I think I'm in trouble again. "Umm, no, Ma'am, I don't know why it is wet. Maybe the grocery bag got wet and the envelope was pressed against the bag as I carried it into the house? I'm sorry."

She has a stern look on her face, but she doesn't say anything as she opens the envelope and pulls out the piece of paper. She quickly scans over the form.

My lover asks, "Pet, this is important. Why didn't you tell me about it earlier? I should have seen this before I talked with Hardass a while ago. I didn't have all of the information I should have had before talking with her. Have you even looked at this yet?"

My eyes start to tear up again, and I try to wipe them against my upstretched arms. "Oh, Ma'am. I'm sorry. No, I haven't read it yet, because it's not due till Saturday. And I just forgot about it because I was so focused on getting dinner ready for us."

"Dammit, Pet. You had all afternoon at work when you could have studied this. Fuck." She stomps off back to the vestibule, and a moment later re-appears with the paddle in her hand. She just says, "Hold still." And a moment later, I feel the paddle smack my bare butt.

My ass is still sore from the 25 whacks that she gave me earlier, and now it's being subjected to more. I'm now crying, but I dutifully count, "One" after the first spank. And I continue counting off all ten of the smacks on my ass.

I continue to bawl as she returns the paddle to its hook above the bench. I really want to rub my throbbing ass, but that's impossible with my hands tied above my head. But mostly I'm crying because I made her angry.

She returns, sits down in the chair in front of me, and starts studying the document. I try to stop crying, but the tears continue to pour out of me. She doesn't look up at me for the next few minutes; she is engrossed in the document. I really want to tell her how sorry I am, but I don't dare interrupt her now.

Finally, she gets up and grabs a handful of Kleenex. She comes back and roughly wipes my face with the tissues, and just says "Blow". I blow my nose into the wad of Kleenex.

Then she holds the document up in front of my face and says, "You probably can't make this out with all the sniveling tears in your eyes. So, I will summarize it for you. Understand?" I just nod my head, because she is right about my not being able to read anything right now.

My lover sits back down and says, "Okay. This thing is titled 'Service Contract', but it is really crude. It looks like a Xerox copy of another faded Xerox that has had some whiteout used on it. And parts are difficult to make out because you got the paper wet. It's a fill-in-the-blanks thing, and she has scribbled some stuff in here. And that bitch has got your name wrong; she has written 'Patsy Schofield'. And it's got tomorrow's date on it rather than Saturday's. Anyway, it promises to keep you safe while you are performing. That's right, it uses the word 'performing'. It says 'no sexual contact is permitted'. But then it's got some weasel words about limiting their liability. Oh, it says 'nudity is a possibility'; that's funny, because your nudity is the whole point of going there. In the compensation field, she has scribbled in a word that looks like 'none'. The name of the organization is 'J.J. Entertainment'; I think that's based on the Hardings' first names, Joanne and Jack, but I'm not sure. They must have a side business of providing nude girls to events like this."

She pauses for a moment to read some more and then continues, "Well, Pet, even though this is a really primitive contract, I want you to sign it before we go on Saturday. We'll let this thing dry out, because the wettest spot covers part of the signature line. It should be dry by Saturday morning. You'll sign it, right?"

I don't want to, but since she wants me to, I will. "Yes, Ma'am. I'll sign it."

"Okay, we got that cleared up. Now, you also mentioned the stack of T-shirts. I think I should have a look at them. But you need to remember that one of those shirts has already earned you a DD. And so, I'm going to give them a critical eye."

"Yes, Ma'am, I understand," I reply sheepishly. She has just reminded me of the real reason that I am here tonight, and that is to punish me. I earned two DD's, that is, discipline demerits, at work today, and she needs to dole out the discipline.

"I'm going to unhook you, and we're going to look over those shirts together in the vestibule." She wipes my face with another bunch of Kleenex, and then she unties the rope from the table leg and lets me lower my bound hands to my waist. She comes back over to me and unties my hands leaving the rope hanging over the ceiling beams. She guides me towards the entryway.

But just at the edge of the living room, she pauses, turns to look at me, and says, "Oh, Pet. You are so gorgeous, and I love you so much." And she clutches me into a tight embrace. I'm caught off guard by this sudden display of affection, but I quickly grasp my arms around her back and return her loving hug. For several seconds, nothing is said as we continue hugging.

Then, I whisper in her ear, "Ohhh, Ma'am. I love you, too." A few seconds later, I feel one of her hands creep down my back and gently squeeze my very sore ass. Then, she pulls back and looks at my face again, and then we kiss each other passionately.

We slowly break apart, and I hope that she will lead me into her bedroom, but after she quickly kisses my nose, she says matter-of-factly, "Let's look at those shirts, Pet." She guides me on into the entryway.

I stand naked in front of the bench, and while she turns away to pick up a shirt, I reach around to massage my sore butt hoping for a bit of relief, but there is none. As she looks back at me, she says, "Does it hurt, Pet?"

I realize that she has caught me in the act, and I glance down saying, "Yes, Ma'am. Sorry, . . ."

She interrupts sarcastically while reaching for the nearby paddle, "Do you want it to hurt even more?" I flinch as she rubs the paddle in a circular motion on my right ass cheek.

"No, Ma'am. I'm sorry," I plead.

"Well, get your hands back at your sides where they belong."

I do as she says, but her verbal reprimand hurts almost as much as I know some additional spanking would hurt. I continue with my pleading and apologetic look, but I don't say anything. She returns the paddle to its hook and then shows me the shirt that I had been wearing this afternoon. She says, "Pet, this shirt is responsible for part of your problem this evening. Any comments?"

I'm sort of at a loss for words because I'm still thinking about the scolding she's just given me, but I know that I must say something. I mumble, "Umm, it's the shirt that Mrs. Harding gave me to wear. It's a bit more revealing than the dark blue shirt you gave me this morning." I hope that's sufficient, but I'm not sure.

She hands me the shirt and says, "Put it on." I quickly slip it over my head. I feel a tiny bit better having my naked body covered - even if it is barely covered for only a brief period of time.

She gets down on her knees and looks to see how far down my legs the shirt extends. She gives it a slight tug. I know that it is futile to try to stretch it even a tiny bit further, because I've been doing that all afternoon. She stands up and tells me, "Lift your arms over your head. Just pretend that they are bound to the rope like they were a minute ago." I do as she said, and I feel the shirt lift up. I'm certain that my butt is now exposed, and she confirms it. "Yep, that's why Nate was embarrassed. And that old lady probably saw the same thing. Lower your arms."

A moment later there is a flash in my eyes, and I notice that she has taken my picture with her iPhone. Then, she looks me in the eye and says, "Well, Pet, I've decided that you can keep this shirt. It will be one of the things you can wear to work until your request is approved by the committee. But you will have to be more careful about keeping your privates covered while wearing it."

I notice that she merely said "your request" rather than the more descriptive "your request to come to work naked." I guess in my current life of near nudity that some things are just assumed rather than being explicitly stated.

She picks up the next shirt from the stack and says, "Okay, Pet, take that one off and put this one on."

I slip the light blue sleeveless shirt over my head and carefully fold it before putting it back on the bench. I glance quickly at my lover and I see the satisfied look on her face; I'm very glad to see that I've now pleased her.

With that, she guides me a couple of steps to the left and positions me in front of the full length mirror.

The next shirt is a light yellow with the company logo discreetly printed on the upper left chest, not far above my boob. It's a little longer than the previous one, and it has short sleeves. It is a bit tighter, and my breasts are more prominent. I feel my nipples tighten up as I look at them pressing against the fabric of the shirt. I'd like to scold them for showing off like that.

My lover sees the same thing with my nipples and breasts. She pinches my left nipple through the fabric. She takes a photo of this one, also. "I like that look, Pet. Perky tits will get you some glances from the guys and some envy from the girls. That shirt's a keeper. Put it on the bench."

After I fold the shirt and place it on top of the light blue one, she hands me the next one. It is also light blue, but a different shade of blue. It comes well down my legs, almost to my knees. She frowns, but with a sigh she says, "Okay, it's a keeper, too."

And so it goes through the entire stack of eleven shirts. She has declared all of them to be "keepers" and has taken a picture of each of them.

After I put the carefully folded last shirt on the stack, I'm left naked in front of the mirror. While my lover is going through the pile, I look at my nude body in the mirror. I'm well aware that most people would say I'm a beautiful woman, and I've always been proud of my body. But I smile as I think of the way my lover gets excited at the sight of my naked body - my tits, my ass, my pubic triangles, and most especially my pussy lips. I'm just standing there with my hands at my sides, but my nips tighten up in excitement once again, and I can feel my pussy juices starting to flow.

Finally, my lover says, "Okay, Pet, here's what I'm going to do. Well, actually, it's what you're going to do. I expect that the committee will approve your request in the next two weeks, but until that time, you are going to wear one of these company T-shirts each day. You will be kind of like a walking billboard advertising the company, and it should keep old Hardass happy as well. I will assign a shirt to you each morning. So, your dual mandate continues. And I don't want to hear more reports of your pussy and ass being seen - at least, not until the committee comes through with its approval. Got it, Pet?"

"Yes, Ma'am," I reply submissively.

"Good. Now, let's get you back in the living room. And let's deal with those DD's." And she guides me naked back under the beam with the dangling rope. Without being told, I meekly hold out my hands. She ties them, and then goes over by the dining table and pulls on the rope so that I'm stretched out again - a little tighter than before. I have to struggle to get my face between my upstretched arms.

End of part 4

Copyright© 2014 by Mr. Flip. All rights reserved.