75% OFF
by
Joe Doe
Part 4
THE SAGA CONTINUES AS JUDGE ASHLEY MARSH WATCHES A GIRL "DRESS"
A STRANGELY FAMILIAR MANNEQUIN...AND NEWS ANCHOR PAULA EVANS
CONSIDERS LIFE AS A WEATHER BUNNY.
As Ashley's car rounded the corner, she noticed the sales clerk who
had waited on her putting up an enormous sign in the display window
at the entrance to the mall. Ashley shuddered when she read the
huge block letters:
75% OFF TODAY!
SEE EVERYTHING!
She pulled her BMW into the nearby handicapped parking space, her
anger intensifying as she watched the sales clerk fuss with the
obviously oversized sign. Perhaps the mall manager needed a visit
from one of her female friends on the zoning commission....
The clerk then pulled back a large black curtain that was covering
the left half of the window. Ashley smiled as an elegantly dressed
mannequin was revealed. Its hair was carefully coifed, and it was
wearing exactly the type of elegant and tasteful suit that Ashley
herself favored.
In fact, the mannequin resembled Ashley, and the suit that the
it was wearing was almost identical to that she had on at that
moment. Even the expensive, steel-rimmed spectacles mirrored
the reading glasses Judge Ashley wore as a prop when issuing
an important ruling from the bench.
After the sexist imagery of the last few hours, Ashley was
delighted to see a positive and tasteful representative of
a successful professional.
She was pleased that the people entering the mall tomorrow would
see the image of an elegant and in-charge woman. The gawking male
spectators may have come to see a degrading and humiliating peep
show, but the elegantly dressed executive in the window would
signal that Judge Ashley planned a stunning reversal of fortune.
The fact that the mannequin looked like Ashley's plastic sister
made the irony that much sweeter.
But her smug satisfaction began to wane as she watched the clerk
casually remove the jacket and blouse.
That teenage clerk was stripping the mannequin. She was stripping
her in public, where everyone could see.
Ashley scolded herself; after all, it was only a dummy!
She really wasn't sure why she was trembling....
After the jacket and blouse had been removed, next came the
tasteful Gucci shoes, the elegant string of pearls, and the
Patek Philippe watch.
Ashley's legs turned to jelly as the clerk eased the figure's skirt
to the floor. The clerk's brusque and workmanlike manner as she
carefully boxed each item was frightening.
Ashley felt as if she were gazing into the future....
The mannequin was now wearing nothing but a lacy red bra and panty
set. It was elegant, to be sure, and just the sort of slightly
racy lingerie that Judge Ashley did wear under her demure outfits.
But, watching her look-a-like wearing only those brief
"unmentionables" in the store window was decidedly unsettling.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the clerk opening a box
in the corner. Her plastic twin was going to be given something to
wear.
Would it be another power suit? An expensive designer dress?
Perhaps the mall would capitalize on the judge's professional
appearance by dressing the figure in a full-length black judicial
robe.
She smiled as she pictured the plastic representation of herself
wearing the very emblem of wisdom, justice, and power. It was
the Supreme Court hopeful's favorite outfit....
She envisioned herself on the high court, striking blow after blow
for women's rights. As a Supreme Court Justice, she would be able
to "ease" Judge Hawthorn into early retirement...and block his
pension. Then perhaps a court-ordered investigation of civil
rights abuses at the mall and the local Sheriff's office would
also be in order....
Ashley chuckled at the idea of the sexist Sheriff and the mall
manager trembling and pleading for mercy as she prepared to hand
down their lengthy sentences.
She knew that the Sheriff's attitude about strip searches would
change when he was on the receiving end. Perhaps the recent
proposal to reinstate the chain gang wasn't such a bad idea....
Ashley looked on in triumph as the clerk carefully placed a large
wooden gavel in the figure's right hand.
The gavel ended Ashley's suspense; the fact that the mannequin
looked like her was obviously more than a coincidence. There
was no doubt about how the figure in the window would be dressed
-- it was going to be the judicial robe or nothing!
But her smug satisfaction faded into confusion as she watched the
clerk carefully ease a silk stocking over the mannequin's foot and
slowly work it up her shapely leg.
Ashley was puzzled at first, but her blood ran cold as the clerk
reached into the box and removed another article of clothing even
briefer and wispier than the hose: a lacy white garter belt,
festooned with cute little ribbons and bows all over it. It was
ridiculously girly and lacy, like something a Barbie doll might
wear if trapped in a Wild West bordello.
Ashley reached into the shopping bag on the seat next to her and
carefully removed the garter belt she had purchased a few minutes
before. She swallowed. The two belts were identical!
It had to be a mistake. This wasn't the garter belt of an elegant,
refined professional woman. The woman who owned this garter belt
was a helpless, air-headed bimbo!
Ashley still couldn't understand why SHE had purchased the
humiliating garment. For a brief moment, she could almost
feel the garter belt slowly sliding up her thigh...imprisoning
her...leaving her at the mercy of the drooling, leering mob....
She watched unhappily as the clerk methodically fastened the gaudy
straps to the tops of the stockings.
The garter belt was obviously ornamental, but the long stockings
made it also a practical necessity. After all, the 75% off
"promotion" required a lot of walking, squatting, and jumping.
The enormous and enthusiastic male audience would demand value
for their shopping dollar.
Ashley frowned as the clerk brusquely shod the mannequin in high
heels. The clerk was treating it more roughly now that it was
wearing nothing but the flimsy lingerie. Clearly the teasing tart
was far less worthy of respect than the elegant professional woman
who had been standing in the window a few minutes before.
The highly realistic mannequin was fully articulated, and Ashley
watched the clerk carefully re-pose the figure.
Its original stance had epitomized sophisticated aloofness: hand
on one hip, head turned at a somewhat cocky angle, nose tilted
slightly into the air, lips displaying a faint, almost arrogant
smile....
The skillful window dresser easily stripped the plastic figure of
its aloof sophistication and made it epitomize exposure and
embarrassment: legs apart, knees bent, toes pointed in...left
hand desperately shielding her crotch...right arm (and gavel)
across her breasts.
Somehow the facial expression was also changed. The eyes were
opened wider, and the mouth was reshaped into a panicked "O."
Then the clerk carefully applied a bit of red makeup to the
face, to simulate a blush.
The humiliating and comical pose made the mannequin appear to be
trying to shield herself, as if someone had pushed her into the
display window wearing nothing but her lacy undies!
Ashley thought things couldn't get any worse for her plastic
surrogate, Until the clerk unhooked the dummy's bra....
She felt her own nipples stiffen as the clerk coolly tossed the
brassiere into the box. Ashley readjusted the thermostat in her
BMW to counter the sudden and inexplicable chill.
She gasped as the 18-year-old clerk insolently inserted her fingers
into the waistband of the blushing mannequin's panties.
"Please, no!" Ashley thought. "Not the panties too! Don't strip
me NAKED! Not in the window! Let me...um...h-her...have a scrap
of dignity!"
But dignity was no longer a part of this mannequin's wardrobe. The
panties slowly but surely came down...down...down...first over the
left foot, then over the right.
Ashley flinched as the pretty panties disappeared into the hated
box....
Her doppelganger was now wearing nothing but heels, hose, and
trashy garter belt.
In a mocking parody of Ashley's respected title and profession, the
humbled figure was allowed to keep her glasses and gavel.
Ashley watched unhappily as the clerk gathered the boxes under her
arm and prepared to leave. After all, what would a silly little
airhead need with all of those expensive clothes?
On her way out of the window, the clerk drew back the large black
curtain that had been hiding the rest of the display. Ashley saw
to her horror that the right hand side of the window contained
several male figures, all of whom were smiling and pointing at
the naked woman, who was clearly the center of attention.
One of the laughing men held a small digital camera. Another had
a camcorder.
Ashley shuddered as the clerk put up a second sign:
DIGITAL CAMERAS FOR SALE/RENT!
YOU, TOO, CAN UPLOAD PICTURES TO THE WEB!
Ashley had thought the people coming to the mall would see an
elegant professional woman, in charge and in control.
But instead they would see a helpless, nearly naked dummy....
The display made Ashley feel anxious...embarrassed...and deeply
aroused!
She stared at the display for several minutes. The parking lot was
empty; the clerk was gone. She closed her eyes and discreetly
slipped her hand under her skirt.
The images of the day were terrible, but...stimulating. She knew
that every man in town would desire her, would fantasize about
her.... And she was right on the brink of orgasm when....
TAP TAP TAP!
TAP TAP TAP!
Startled, Ashley's eyes flew open, and her hand jerked away from
her crotch. Release denied!
She flushed crimson as the mall security guard motioned for her to
roll down her window.
"May I see some identification, Miss?" the guard asked, sternly.
Ashley hastily dug out her judicial ID, which was her preferred
method of identification for all situations, particularly traffic
stops.
The guard smirked as he noticed a sheen of moisture on the corner
of the laminated ID, but he quickly resumed his humorless persona.
Ashley blushed and squirmed as she wiped her soggy hand on her
expensive leather car seat. She had never been so humiliated in
her life.
The guard examined the ID, and then looked down sternly at the
flushed woman struggling to regain her dignity. "Usually I catch
teenagers out here doing this type of thing to each other," he
said. "I don't know if I should call the police -- or take you
over my knee."
The image struck a chord, and Ashley was instantly transformed into
a naughty, blushing teenager caught in a forbidden act. Her butt
cheeks tightened as she envisioned the frowning father-figure
slowly removing his belt and doubling it over in his beefy hand,
as she submissively raised her fanny high in the air. She begged
him not to take down her underpants, but it was not her decision
to make. She bit her lip in helpless humiliation as his thick
fingers slid under the waistband of her lacy panties....
"Please, s-sir...," Ashley stammered. "I was j-just coming...I-I
mean...GOING.... Please don't call anyone!"
The guard was highly amused to see the crisp professional sniveling
like a little girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar (or
somewhere even more delicate). He pretended to weigh the matter
before saying, "I'll let you go this time, young lady, but, if I
ever catch you doing that again, I'll give you a good
fanny-tanning."
"Yes, sir," Ashley said. "Thank you, sir." She paused. "May I
have my ID back, sir? Um.... There are still a few precedents I
need to look up in the law library at my office, and I'll need my
ID to get back into the building."
"I'll give your ID to Judge Hawthorn in the morning; I wouldn't
want you to get it all soggy," the guard said, with a knowing
smile. "I'm sure Judge Hawthorn or one of the male attorneys
will tell you what to do tomorrow, especially if you smile sweetly
and flash a little thigh."
Ashley immediately realized that her skirt had ridden up
considerably and she was displaying more than "a little."
The guard chuckled as the blushing jurist squirmed in a
desperate effort to cover her exposed thighs.
"Now be a good little girl and scurry home, and let the men worry
about the law," the guard patronized.
"Yes, sir," Ashley said and quickly started the engine. The
guard's humiliating lecture and smug commands infuriated her.
But she was relieved that he didn't call the police, and she
was too smart an attorney to miss an opportunity for a strategic
retreat.
"You have a big day tomorrow, so I want you to go straight to bed,
young lady," the guard added, sternly. "And keep those hands on
TOP of the covers. You need your beauty sleep, so you'll look your
best tomorrow."
Ashley fumed silently as she slowly pulled away. After she put
Judge Hawthorn, the mall manager, and Evelyn in their places,
she'd deal with the entire staff of rent-a-cops at the mall.
The next few days would be busy ones.
As she drove home, Ashley considered calling the office; her
underpaid secretary, Timmy, was doubtlessly still there, toiling
away on the assignments Ashley had dumped on his desk at 5:00 PM.
"Timmy" (a name he despised, but which Ashley insisted on using)
was a good-looking young man and had actually been a law student
clerking for Judge Hawthorn until Ashley gave his scholarship away
to the daughter of one of her wealthy female political patrons. Of
course, even if Timmy had the money for tuition, he was now far too
busy slaving away at the office and running Ashley's personal
errands (not to mention giving her a weekly pedicure) to even
consider law school.
She demanded that Timmy remained focused on his job. A few months
earlier, he had begun dating a successful female attorney who
actually attempted to reinstate his scholarship and get him a job
at her firm. Of course, a few calculated phone calls from Ashley
put an end both to the relationship and to Timmy's distracting pipe
dreams. And Timmy was tossed back into secretarial hell.
Ashley still chuckled as she recalled the "sympathy gift" she'd
left on her traumatized gofer's desk -- a copy of Playboy, a
bottle of baby oil, and a guidebook entitled, "Being the PERFECT
Secretary."
"Terrified Timmy" would let her into her office to check the vital
precedents, but, recalling her visit with Evelyn that afternoon,
she hesitated.
She envisioned herself in her school jumper, typing, running
errands, fetching coffee, filing, and kowtowing before the
amused Evelyn. She would be defenseless against the lecherous
smirks, cruel jibes, and sly fanny pats of the vengeful trial
lawyers whom she had terrorized.
Her stylish and elegant clothes showed that Ashley was a woman in
charge. But her degrading school uniform would demonstrate that
she was just a young lady who needed to be taught a lesson.
No more leisurely lunches at her private club; she would be forced
to wolf down her brown bag lunch at her desk. She knew she would
eat and have to drink modestly; the indignity of holding her crotch
and doing the potty dance as she begged for a bathroom pass was
unthinkable.
Judge Hawthorn might even loan out Ashley's "secretarial services"
to one of the lustful attorneys she had frequently reprimanded. Of
course, a small gratuity for Hawthorn would be required, but the
skillful caress of her warm, velvety tongue would be worth it.
She blushed as she recalled stories about what had happened to the
last female judge who had fallen into Hawthorn's clutches.
He regularly checked the humiliated jurist's underpants for
"disgusting wetness." If any telltale signs of arousal were
found, the panties would be pinned to a fan by the blushing
intern's desk for the rest of the day, ostensibly "to dry."
The fan would keep the soggy underpants flapping in the breeze
next to the embarrassed woman's desk, like a flag proclaiming
her randiness to the world. Her intimate scent would slowly
drift into the lobby....
It would be bad enough to try navigate through the building in the
agonizingly short jumper, knowing that the slightest misstep would
display her childish "day of the week" underpants to everyone. But
the thought of fighting the wind gusts that swept down the sides of
the tall building with no panties on at all was excruciating!
Once she had been reduced to a measly intern, then Herbie the
mailroom boy, Evelyn, and even Timmy, her own secretary, would
outrank her. She would be totally at their mercy....
Timmy had given Ashley a strange, knowing smile as she'd walked out
of the office that day; she'd felt uncomfortable as she glimpsed
his eyes running up her legs and fixing on her shapely backside.
She knew that her lonely secretary had a crush on her. In the
past, however, he had always been too cowed to do anything but
stare at his shoes. But she had seen him chatting quietly with
Evelyn earlier in the day, and his suddenly smug demeanor left
Ashley unnerved.
Maybe bothering Timmy tonight wasn't a good idea after all.
Ashley smiled; in a few hours it would all be over. Afterward, she
would enjoy teaching her uppity secretary a lesson in obedience.
******************************
Paula Evans stepped out of her bathroom Jacuzzi and wrapped herself
in a big, fluffy towel.
Life was good. Paula's aggressive campaigning and willingness to
use her sex appeal had allowed her to leapfrog past her competition
to the co-anchor chair. Now, if she could just dispose of Ed
Baxter, the other co-anchor, the broadcast would be hers alone.
Paula despised the way that Ed had bested her on-camera when he
asked her if she had filled out a mall contest entry form. She
had been using her sex appeal to twist men around her finger for
years, but it had always been done on HER terms. There was no way
she was going to let some sleazy mall manager parade her naked to
boost sales at his crummy discount mall.
She looked at herself in the beveled bedroom mirror and smiled.
Even wrapped in the terrycloth towel, she was stunning.
And she knew that her co-anchor and her male viewers would do just
ANYTHING to see her luscious body naked. She chuckled. "Eat your
hearts out, boys! Ain't none of you gonna see NOTHIN'!"
Paula was a natural tease, and she flirted with every man in the
station -- even her rival, Ed. It excited her to turn Ed on even
as she was lobbying the station owner to fire him. She envisioned
herself merrily watching her experienced and distinguished rival
packing his Pulitzer prizes and Emmys into a cardboard box....
She knew that Ed was trying to undermine her credibility by
suggesting demeaning undercover assignments. He had implied
that she should investigate the rumors that the police were
strip-searching women for trivial misdemeanors. He'd even
suggested sending Paula out dressed up like a street hooker
to "expose" the fact that (gasp!) prostitution existed in our
fair city.
The station owner had been intrigued by the idea of parading Paula
through a series of lurid undercover assignments, but, since he
was grooming her to anchor the show alone, he was reluctant to
undermine her already questionable gravitas.
After her admission that she had filled out the form, Paula noticed
the news director had a number of "producer outlines" on his desk.
Titles included "Strip-Searched for Littering," "Straitjacketed
Naked at the Mental Hospital," "Hooker for Hire," and "Undercover
in Cellblock H's Shower."
Paula knew sweeps month was coming up, but this was ridiculous!
When she had gone upstairs to confront the owner, she overheard
part of a muffled conversation that the station owner, the station
manager, and Ed were holding in the private executive dining room.
"I think we can agree that, if she ends up strutting through the
mall naked, she's finished," the station owner said. "Ed will
resume anchoring the news alone, and we'll use her for some sexy
undercover assignments before easing her into her new role as
Weather Bunny. Sunny skies will seem that much sunnier when she's
dancing around in a bikini while Ed reads the forecast!"
"What's the mall manager going to make her wear?" the station
manager asked, eagerly.
"She's from Texas, so I suggested a cowboy hat, cowboy boots...and
that honey-drenched magnolia smile," Ed replied, chuckling.
"I guess we get to find out if our little tease is a real blonde
after all," the owner chortled.
Paula shuddered as she remembered her visit to the mall manager's
office a few days before. She had been troubled by the odd way the
man had smiled at her when she asked him about the cowboy hat and
boots in the corner.
The leering mall manager had shown her the desk drawer that he had
locked Debbie's clothes in, and he suggested that Paula give him
her station blazer so that he could demonstrate how he could "lock
up a woman's clothes, safe and sound."
She had declined his smarmy "offer," but the image of her crisp
blazer, skirt, and underwear folded neatly in the mall manager's
desk had haunted her ever since.
Paula looked at herself in the mirror and swallowed. Then she took
a deep breath, and dropped the towel to the floor.
She placed her hands on top of her head, and envisioned the
blushing woman in the mirror in a cowboy hat and boots. She
imagined her hated nemesis, Ed, chuckling as he reported to the
record TV audience that "our new Weather Bunny IS a natural
blonde!"
She quickly scampered into her huge four poster bed and pulled the
covers over her head, silently hoping that Judge Ashley was as
smart as she looked. Paula knew Ashley was supposed to be
brilliant, but she also knew that her own cute little butt
was definitely on the line.
******************************
A few blocks away, the owner of a large local software company
pondered her fate as she nervously sorted through the lingerie
in her closet. She regretted giving the interview at the mall,
but it was too late for regrets. As a Stanford MBA and
multi-millionaire, Marsha Dane wasn't used to hiding her
opinions and enjoyed telling people who she was.
When that pimply-faced college boy in the security guard uniform
complimented her and her two friends on their TV interview and
asked for their names, Marsha automatically gave him her business
card.
It was only when the guard explained that the mall manager needed
to know her name so that he could "look up the contest entry form"
that she began to worry. When the grinning guard told her that he
would "see" her tomorrow, she felt herself blush, hotly....
Marsha told herself that she had nothing to worry about. After
all, it was only that little airhead, Debbie, who they had marched
through the mall BUTT-NAKED!
Debbie was obviously a bimbo! A simpleton! A slut!
Marsha wasn't like that! She was a respected business leader, not
some cheap stripper to be paraded around to boost sales!
But, as Marsha looked out again at the squad car that was
mysteriously parked in front of her beachfront condo, she
wondered what the morning would bring. A company-wide e-mail
had slyly suggested that "something special" was going to
happen to her at the mall; Marsha blushed crimson as she
imagined her subjugated staff watching with amused
satisfaction as she was paraded through the crowd.
Maybe she should wear the matching purple bra and panty set and
purple pumps, just in case...
******************************
Brittany Kelly was looking forward to her first good night's sleep
in days. She had despised the way she had been forced to stand in
court and foolishly stammer excuses, while Judge Ashley smugly
beamed down at her.
Ashley had clearly relished Brittany's desperate situation. So,
when Brittany heard that the great and powerful Judge Ashley was
also a target, she was ecstatic. Being shown naked in the mall
might almost be worth it if she could see that Ashley bitch get
hers!
But Brittany was relieved when Ashley had called and asked for her
help. Joining forces with Ashley was girl-power at its finest, and
Brittany knew that together they could defeat any male adversary.
Brittany was infuriated by the way everyone at her law firm was
gossiping behind her back and by the fact that her answering
machine was now filled with lascivious messages from every pervert
the former prosecutor had ever convicted. The thought of strutting
around naked in front of those jeering ex-convicts chilled her to
the bone.
But, with the law AND the judge on her side, she was confident she
would prevail. Extremely attractive and photogenic, she knew the
media loved winners. The presence of Court TV would naturally lead
to an appearance on Larry King, and Brittany's future as the female
Johnny Cochran would be secure.
She was pleased that her feud with Ashley was finally over. Of
course, if the unthinkable should happen and something did go
wrong, she knew that her red garters, red stockings, and red high
heels would make her look way better than that BITCH!
******************************
Ashley struggled as she attempted to read Judge Hawthorn's chicken
scratchings. Evelyn had given her a few pages of text, "in case"
she wanted "to practice typing before Monday."
The idea was absurd. Ashley was NOT going to lose, and she was NOT
going to be reduced to the status of a lowly typist!
ALTHOUGH LIBERALS COMPLAIN THAT MALE AUTHORITY FIGURES
WOULD ABUSE A NEW STRIP-SEARCH LAW, QUAINT CONCEPTS LIKE
PROBABLE CAUSE DO LITTLE TO SHIELD SOCIETY FROM THE
PERNICIOUS RISING TIDE OF FEMINISM AND PROMISCUITY.
YOUNG WOMEN WOULD DRESS LIKE LADIES IF THEY KNEW THEIR
SCANDALOUS ATTIRE WOULD TARGET THEM FOR A SEARCH. LOOSER
STRIP-SEARCH GUIDELINES WOULD ENCOURAGE WOMEN TO TRAVEL
WITH MALE ESCORTS, AND TREAT MALE AUTHORITY FIGURES WITH
RESPECT.
IMAGINE THE ECONOMIC BENEFITS OF FORCING FLIGHTY WOMEN TO
SHOP WITH THEIR WISE AND FRUGAL FATHERS, HUSBANDS, AND
BOYFRIENDS....
The text enraged Ashley, and she shuddered as she imagined herself
pounding out this sexist drivel day after day on the ancient manual
typewriter in Hawthorn's chambers. She wanted to quit, but the
image of Evelyn tapping the paddle against her palm compelled her
to go on. "White Out" and "Correct-o-Type" were forbidden; Evelyn
preferred to correct "sloppy typing" by getting at "the seat of the
problem."
ALTHOUGH SOME ARGUE THAT METAL DETECTORS ARE SUFFICIENT,
THERE IS NO SUBSTITUTE FOR A TIP-TO-TOE STRIP-SEARCH.
EVEN THE MOST REBELLIOUS FEMINIST WILL LOSE HER GINGER
WHEN YOU STRIP HER OUT OF HER FANCY POWER SUIT AND PUT
HER DAINTY LITTLE FEET INTO THE STIRRUPS.
DISCRIMINATORY CLASS DISTINCTIONS WILL VANISH AS THE
PAMPERED AND SPOILED FEMALE EXECUTIVE WATCHES THE LOWLY
MINIMUM WAGE SECURITY GUARD TEASINGLY SLIP ON HIS RUBBER
GLOVE AND SLOWLY LUBRICATE HIS MIDDLE FINGER....
******************************
Ashley lay in bed and considered the strange events of the day.
As a judge, she had always been confident, assured, even cocky.
Whether she was berating Herbie the mailroom boy or ordering Timmy,
the hapless hunk, to fetch her laundry (at the same time she was
hurling the stapler at his head), she always knew just what to do.
But her lingering concern that something might go wrong at the mall
tomorrow aroused unaccustomed feelings of helplessness and panic.
It was easy enough to dismiss a vengeful shrew like Evelyn, and
Ashley was confident that she had her pitifully horny male
secretary totally under her thumb. But the female salesclerk
had been a different matter. The clerk's matter-of-fact,
businesslike attitude made the unimaginable humiliation seem
almost inevitable. Ashley was used to other women treating her
with deference and respect. But, to the relentlessly efficient
clerk, Ashley was clearly just another day's work. The most
respected woman jurist in the state would soon be nothing more
than sexy eye candy used to lure in male shoppers and goose
lingerie sales.
The earnest clerk would ensure Ashley's humiliation was brisk and
efficient. There would be no chance of escape; the businesslike
clerk would methodically strip Ashley of every last shed of her
pride and dignity, and then push her out the door for everyone
to gawk at.
The clerk wouldn't do it out of spite; humbling Ashley would be
just another task, no different than stocking the shelves.
Ashley envisioned the clerk methodically folding and boxing each
item of her tasteful, expensive attire: clothes, jewelry,
watch...everything. To Ashley, the slow striptease would be
the most mortifying experience imaginable. And the smiling
clerk's pleasant but no-nonsense manner would make it all the
more humiliating.
Ashley flushed, recalling the clerk's casual comment that it would
be "easier to check the fit when you don't have so much on." That
breezy observation wasn't meant to be chilling; it was just a
simple statement of fact. Adjusting the stockings and tightening
the straps would be easier after Ashley's judicial robes had been
removed and her expensive clothes had been seized and boxed.
Once she was stripped, forcing the proud jurist into her heels and
hose would be no more difficult than dressing the dummy in the
window.
Ashley shuddered as she pictured the clerk carefully adjusting
her gaudy garter tabs while the smiling mall manager watched
approvingly. It certainly wouldn't do to have a tasty tart's
stockings sag as she paraded around the mall.
The exact positioning of the garter belt and hose would be vital.
After all, no one would care what Ashley herself said or thought.
The important thing was that she looked good as she pranced
prettily for the men.
After the garter belt was properly adjusted, a sharp SLAP on the
fanny would send her out the door to face her eager audience.
She wondered if she had made a mistake by postponing her fitting.
She was still in charge tonight, but tomorrow might be a different
story.
What if the mall manager decided to help "adjust" her scandalous
lingerie? Ashley shivered, imagining his piggy hands running up
her creamy thighs. If a playful finger strayed off course, she
would be helpless to resist.
She was clearly smarter than her opponents, and she desperately
wanted to defeat them one more time. But, despite her obvious
superiority, she briefly considered packing her bags and leaving
town.
The events of the last few hours made her feel as if fate itself
was conspiring against her. How could things go so wrong?
She was beginning to feel like the heroine in one those awful Joe
Doe stories!
She was tired, but she was also excited. She wanted to relieve the
pressure, but, recalling the mall guard's strict warning against
self-gratification, she hesitated.
But the forbidden nature and dire consequences only made it more
exciting. And, of course, there was no way the mall guard would
ever know...unless she confessed.
Ashley closed her eyes and slipped her hand under the covers,
determined to finish what she had she had started....
******************************
The mall manager smiled and sipped his Scotch, as he sorted through
the pictures on top of his desk. So many women, so little time!
He knew he would get to all the women eventually, but who would be
next? A number of candidates were already on "stake-out," but the
Sheriff had assured him that he didn't have to make his final
decision until morning.
He finished his drink and headed up for bed. No need to rush; he
still had a few more hours to decide.
The manager's home office was empty; the lights were out, and
all was quiet. On the corner of his desk sat the file folders
containing the unlucky finalists for tomorrow's contest. The
thick stack contained the photographs of the most beautiful
and alluring women in town.
On top of the stack was a picture of an attractive young woman
in a black judicial robe, smiling confidently at the camera.
Edited by C. Lakewood