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 �>�Dare Me by neverdoubted

   Dare Me - Chapter 11 - Severance Package (Part 3)

   I was caught just as off-guard by her dare request as she was.  But I
wasn't about to let her off the hook.  She should know the rules by now. 
Once she asked, there was no backing out.  But she might have to wait a
while.  The actual dare could come at any time and not knowing when was
part of it.  In addition, once she asked me, she was prohibited from
pleasuring herself for the duration.  That's likely what had caused the
blush.

   As usual, her timing could have been better.  I would much rather be
spending my time focused on our upcoming vacation than concocting another
elaborate dare for her.  That is partially what motivated me.  Surely one
day, she would reach her limit and give up.  Until that day, I intended to
keep pushing the envelope until that stubborn child learned to control her
recklessness.  I just had to use my secret weapons; heat, pressure, and
time.

   I smiled back at her and nodded then waived her dismissively away to go
ponder her fate.  I decided the kitchen table would be our vacation
planning war room.  After lunch, I cleared the table then started to
organize all the documents and information.  There was a lot of fine print
and legalese that I knew was important to read through and understand.  Mom
checked in and noticed me studying it and smiled in pride.  She was so
happy to see me stepping up to help fill the void left by dad and carry the
load that should have been shared by two parents all along.

   I tried to stay on task but got distracted when I found a world map Kiki
had thrown in, probably for the exact purpose of distracting us.  I
unfolded it and marveled at how far away Fiji was from America.  It still
didn't seem real that within a week I would be dipping my toes into the
tropical waters of some foreign ocean half a world away.

   Then I put the map away and began diligently reviewing our travel
budget, making sure every expense was accounted for.  Ok, that's a lie. 
While I should have been doing all that, I was daydreaming and staring at
the vacation flier; the one with my smiling half-naked tropical island
girls and their beautiful breasts.

   Speaking of beautiful breasts, just then, Lucy interrupted from behind
me.  I turned in my chair and was greeted by the sight of my beautiful
naked sister standing right behind me.  I quickly hid the flier under some
other papers then gave her my attention.  Having been naked in front of me
so many times by now, she wasn't at all shy.  It still shocked my system a
little bit every time, though.  And it's only with some effort I was able
to keep my eyes from bulging out and my mouth from panting.

   "Hey Mikey," she spoke casually, "my friend Alexandra says you have to
get a bikini wax if you're going to wear a swimsuit at our age.  She says
it's the best way to keep your hair from poking out down there.  Only, I
don't see any hair.  Alexandra said the wax really hurts and I don't want
to get one if I don't need to.  Can you help me decide?"

   I couldn't believe it.  She was actually asking my opinion on whether or
not she needed a bikini wax!  Not about to pass up this opportunity, I
grabbed her by the hips and pulled her closer until she was standing
between my knees.  I took note that her breasts had grown rounder in the
past month, just by a bit, then turned my attention down below.  By now I
knew every little bend and crevice of her cute, puckered pussy.  I could
have drawn a perfect map from memory if I had any talent at drawing.  It
-(TM)s a shame Lucy got all the talent in that area.  "Hey!  Maybe I could
get her to make me a naked self-portrait," I mused to myself.  "That's an
idea!"

   I didn't recall ever seeing pubic hair on her body before.  Her immature
pussy had always been smooth and hairless.  But she was going through
puberty now and I hadn't seen her naked in about a month.  So, I guess it
was possible.  I had been growing my own pubic hair for about a year now,
so I kind of knew what to look for.

   I leaned over and peered intently between her legs.  With her legs
together, her outer lips were mostly closed with only a thin gap running
down between them in a straight line.  I did not see any sign of heat
coming from her diamond factory.  When she got aroused, something happened
deep within the folds of those cute little lips to produce moisture.  But
at the moment she was bone dry.

   I could have stared at her latent flower and pondered the mysteries of
womanhood all day, but I had a job to do.  I was supposed to be judging
whether I felt she needed a bikini wax or not.  So, I turned focus back to
the task at hand.  And to my surprise, in the right light, I thought I
could just make out the faintest coat of blonde hair starting to sprout on
her mound.

   But it was so very light and thin, I might be imagining it.  Whenever I
moved my head, it would frustrate me by disappearing.  There was only one
way to be sure.  I reached up and grazed my fingertips along her pussy lips
starting at the cleft.  I detected something, but still wasn't convinced.
When I reached the bottom, I slid my fingers back up; this time going
against the grain.  That's when I felt the invisible hairs tickling my
fingertips.  They were so soft and light, practically transparent, they
might not even qualify as hair, more like the softest goose down.  lol,
Goosey down!

   She gasped as my fingers rubbed against the sensitive skin of her most
intimate area.  When I reached the top, I traced my fingers back and forth
over her cleft; marveling at how impossibly supple and smooth she was in
that particular spot.  Then I traveled back down her enticing mound for
another round trip.

   I applied more pressure on my second upward stroke.  Her gasp was
accompanied by a slight shudder which caused her breasts to make a cute
little distracting jiggle.  And I was treated to the very first real sign
of heat since the start of her dare.  I saw her nipples pop out and harden
to little points in a matter of seconds as she shivered in my grasp.  How
did she do that?  Being able to affect such a change in a girl by brushing
a single spot on her body with nothing more than my fingertips made me feel
like a powerful sorcerer.

   While I was having so much fun, I knew I was playing with fire.  My
fingers were moving dangerously close to a very special place.  Somewhere
nearby was the button she was always so desperate to press at the climax of
her dares.  I didn't know exactly where, but I had watched her do it to
spectacular results.  But at the moment, she wasn't ready for that.  There
wasn't enough heat.  If her button got pressed now, too early in the
process, the resulting diamonds would be duds.  No, I had to stop playing
and give her more time.

   "Good news," I declared, my fingers reluctantly backing away from the
top of her cleft, their new favorite place, "you don't need a bikini wax."

   That was an understatement.  If I struggled to detect her pubic hair
from less than a foot away, I'm sure people on a beach would never notice.
Lucy was relieved to hear it.  She never did have a high pain threshold. 
And the idea coating your most sensitive areas in hot wax sounded painful
enough.  Never mind what came next.  Even soft goosey down would sting
being ripped out by the root!

   She gifted me a perky smile of thanks then turned and left.  Ignore the
throbbing in my pants, I tried to get back to the fine print.  But I was
interrupted a few seconds later by an exclamation in the other room.

   "Lucy Marie Jenkins," came mom's voice, "what on Earth do you think
you're doing!?"

   I went to investigate and found Lucy at the sliding glass door to our
backyard.  She was still naked and standing in the threshold like she was
on her way outside.

   Lucy replied, "Alexandra says if you're going to the tropics, you have
to have a base tan.  Otherwise, you'll get a nasty burn on the first day
and be miserable and peeling the whole time.  Her family goes to Hawaii all
the time."

   Alexandra says...  That girl was starting to annoy me.  She made a good
point that mom hadn't considered.  Still, it didn't in any way explain or
excuse Lucy's nudity.



   "That's fine," mom replied, "but why aren't you wearing your swimsuit?
Surely you don't mean to lay out naked!"

   "I don't think my swimsuit fits me anymore." was her matter of fact
answer.

   Oh shit!

   Suddenly it dawned on me how utterly unprepared we really were for this
vacation.  Lucy and her new pubescent body would never fit in her childish
swimsuit from last year.  We probably all needed new suits, maybe more. 
How many suits did a person need for two whole weeks of swimming?  But it
wasn't just suits.  Mom had business outfits and we had school clothes and
some play clothes.  But nobody had vacation or travel clothes.  Hell, we
only had one pathetic old suitcase between the three of us!

   Something clicked in my brain, and I remembered coming across a vacation
shopping checklist somewhere in the stack of papers Kiki had provided.  I
resolved to go check it out but just as soon as I helped mom resolve this
situation.  In the past, she had expressed apprehension at Lucy being naked
around me.  But I guess my authority as de facto co-parent trumped any
reservation she felt.  She looked at me with deference, clearly expectantly
me to fix this.

   I thought a moment then offered a compromise.  "You don't think your
suit fits you, but have you tried? -� When she shook her head, I continued,
 -�At least go try it on.  If it's too small, you can lay out in your
underthings for now." Then turning to mom, I said, "we're gonna need to
make a shopping list."

   So much for budget discipline!  Our family vacation plans weren't even
an hour old, and we already had to call Kiki and change them.  We explained
that we needed to use some of the money for supplies.  She was happy to
help us cancel whatever we needed to, but made it clear the down payment
and agency fees were non-refundable.  We had her remove some of the bonus
activities and dropped the flights from first class to business class. 
That freed up $1,000 for us to shop with.

   Lucy came down in her swimsuit, a modest and childish one-piece.  It was
obviously too small for her and pulled up into an extreme wedgie between
her legs.  Her new boobs also bulged out the top and the unicorn on front
was stretched into a grotesque figure.  So, I gave her permission to lay
out in a pair of panties and a bra instead and added a new suit for her to
my ominously growing shopping list.

   I found the sample checklist from the travel packet and started to go
over it with mom.  But I could see worry lines forming on her face as the
list grew.  The whole point of this trip was to give her a break from all
the stress.  But this just felt like another business meeting to her.

   "Mom, why don't you take a break, -� I offered, "I can finish this up by
myself." She sighed in relief and eyed the door.  I continued, "Come on,
this is supposed to be fun!  Let -(TM)s stop counting money and go spend
some.  Wanna go shopping?"

   She really perked up at that idea.  It had been a long time since
someone had given her permission to spend money on herself.

   "I could use a haircut before the trip, and maybe a mani-pedi," she
said. Then she eyed the backyard and said, "but it's such a nice day out -
too nice to spend indoors.  Can't we go shopping tomorrow?  I need a base
tan too."

   I nodded and, like a child given permission to leave the table, she got
up and made a beeline for her bedroom.  I returned to the list and, when it
had reached a tipping point, I made a hard decision.  We were going to have
to call Kiki back and ask for more money.  I tried to total everything up
but failed to come up with a hard number for her.  There were just too many
things on the list that I didn't know the price of.  How much did three
sets of luggage cost?  My best guess, we may end up needing $2,000 to get
all this stuff.

   Just then mom got my attention from the doorway.  She was wearing a
bikini and wanted my opinion.  From my time as the family's fashion police,
I guess she had gotten used to running her outfits by me for approval.  It
was by far the skimpiest thing I had ever seen her in, and I tried not to
stare.  The bottom was a little triangle of bright red fabric connected
with strings.  The two triangles of her top were similarly connected with
string and made her chest look huge.

   It turns out dad had bought it for her and always insisted she wear it
when they were together.  She hadn't worn it since he left, but it was the
only one she owned.  Her self-image was so crushed from years of abuse,
first at the hands of dad and then her boss, she needed someone in her life
who would build her up for once.  At least she wasn't naked like Lucy had
been.  And she better not ask my opinion about getting a bikini wax!  I
drew the line at that.

   Not wanting to discourage her, I gave two thumbs up and a helpful smile.
She smiled back, then turned to head outside to lay out with Lucy.  Her
pasty white bottom definitely needed a base tan if she was going to take
that bikini to Fiji.

   They laid out the rest of the afternoon and caught what remaining
sunshine they could.  That evening, when they came in, they were both
sporting the beginning hints of a base tan.  Lucy had some pink, mostly on
her cheeks and shoulders.  Mom also had a light pink hue, but only on the
parts of her that never saw the sun.  They were both showing so much skin
that I doubled the number of sunscreen bottles on my shopping list.

   Before bed, I caught up to Lucy in the upstairs bathroom getting ready
to take a shower.  She was holding up her bra strap and frowning into the
mirror.  She was upset that her bra had made an ugly tan line on her
normally flawless skin.  When I saw what was the matter, I had to laugh. 
But I told her not to worry, we had a shopping trip planned the next day
and would get her a swimsuit that fits.  She tittered with excitement at
that news.  That girl sure loved to spend money!  Then I added something
that brought her back to Earth.

   "I think we're going to have lots of fun tomorrow.  But don't forget,
you're still in the middle of a dare," I reminded her, "so be ready. 
Something's going to happen, probably when you least expect it."

   From her reaction, I could tell she had gotten distracted by the
vacation and the excitement of a shopping trip.  She had totally forgotten
about the dreaded dare hanging over her head.  She begged me for a pause,
at least for a day, so she could focus on shopping.  But I wasn't about to
budge.  I said maybe she would think it through and learn to hold her
tongue before blurting stuff out next time.

   Then she begged me to at least give her a hint about what the dare would
be.  So, to get her off my back, I said I would be choosing her outfit for
the shopping trip.  That's all I would say.  As I pulled the bathroom door
closed behind me, I saw her eyes fluttering into the mirror and knew my
ploy had worked.  In truth, my dare schemes were nothing more than
tentative ideas.  But I was wiped out from all the day's excitement.  I
went on to bed hoping a good night's sleep would help me come up with
something better in the morning.

   Since she no longer had work and we weren't learning anything anyway,
mom checked us out of school before noon the next day.  It was an important
shopping day.  We were due to leave in four days and hadn't bought anything
for our trip yet.  There was no time to waste.

   When I got home from school, I went straight to the kitchen table to
prepare for the trip.  I noticed the envelope suspiciously laying open on
top of the pile, not where I had left it.  But there was still money
inside, so I didn't think it worth worrying mom about.  Even after several
days off from work, she still looked to be carrying a lot of stress and
worry around with her and jumped whenever the phone rang thinking it was
Benny calling her back into work.

   I counted out some money as well as the official checklist, then turned
my attention to another pressing matter, Lucy's shopping outfit.

   She was standing at attention with a hopeful smile on her face when I
came to her room.  She had taken off her school clothes and was wearing a
modest and sensible underwear set.  On her bed she had laid out a spring
dress, something that could easily be slipped on and off repeatedly in
changing rooms, in the hopes I would just let her wear that.  It was all
very cute and wholesome.  I hated it.

   I frowned and shook my head.  Popping the balloon of hope she had
inflated, I told her to take it all off and then I headed into her closet
to pick out something else.  She watched nervously as I pulled out various
outfits, holding them up to her naked body in contemplation.  She was like
my own personal dress-up doll.  But I wasn't here to be her fashion
consultant.  The name of the game was embarrassment.  I could tell by her
reaction which outfits showed a little too much skin.  After that, I made
it a personal challenge to see how big a rise I could get out of her.

   I quickly discovered that the front of her closet contained her newest
and trendiest clothes; the ones she wore most often and that fit her the
best.  So of course, I was more interested in the ones further back.  I was
like an archeologist traveling back in time, finding smaller and smaller
outfits the deeper I dug into her closet.  She blanched each time I
returned carrying things she had stopped wearing long ago when she was much
younger, and her body had not yet started to mature.

   Finally, at the very back, I hit the jackpot.  Her face went pale when I
emerged triumphantly holding a tiny pair of shorts and a crop top.  The
crop top was the lone remaining piece of a long-gone outfit.  She had
thrown it in the back of her closet and forgotten it.  The shorts were made
of the same material as her purple P.E.  shorts, only smaller and dark
blue.

   She begged and pleaded with me not to make her go shopping in that
outfit.  Besides, it didn't fit her anymore, she argued.  I made her try it
on to see if that was true.  The shorts were of a simple design with no
pockets or flourishes.  Even though it was several sizes too small for her
now, the athletic cotton fabric did stretch greatly and she was able to
pull it up her shapely legs.  Unfortunately, she was proved right when she
got to her hips.  The elastic waistband was thicker and had more substance
than the rest.  By now, it was stretched to its limit, and she couldn't get
it to go up any further.  She no longer had the hips or bottom of a child.

   Despite the setback, I was not ready concede yet.  I told her to try on
the top while I reevaluated the shorts.  They had fit her everywhere but
the waist.  The real problem was that thick waistband.  Knowing she would
never wear them again; I didn't feel bad about attempting an alteration.  I
grabbed a pair of scissors from her desk and cut off the waistband
completely.  I tried to be careful, to make the cut look even all the way
around.  But the resulting hem was pretty ragged.

   Lucy saw I was doing something and came over to investigate.  She had
put on the crop top.  I could immediately tell it too was meant for a
younger girl.  Even then, being a looser article to begin with, it did fit
over her head and onto her more mature frame.  The most noticeable
divergence was how much the fabric had to stretch over her swelling
breasts. It was originally designed to come down to the middle of a girl's
stomach.  But Lucy's growing chest caused the hem to be pulled up much
higher.  In fact, the bottom hem barely reached past her boobs.

   The top was originally yellow with green trim but the yellow was paler
now and faded almost white from so many wash cycles.  Since she wasn't
wearing a bra, the outline of her pink nipples was clearly visible through
the threadbare material and pushed the fabric out slightly in front.

   She tried to negotiate with me once again, appealing however she could
imagine.  She argued she wouldn't be able to try on outfits dressed like
this!  It wouldn't be convenient!  Besides, it didn -(TM)t even match!  She
was right about that.  The pieces were never intended to be worn together.
Even I knew not to mix blue, green, and yellow in the same outfit!  What to
do?

   Now drunk with power, I held the blue shorts and paused to take in the
sight of my dress-up doll standing in the briefest crop top imaginable,
completely naked from the bottom of her tits to the tips of her toes.  The
yellow and blue actually did go together all right.  It was really only the
green trim of her top that was messing everything up.  I could fix that!

   I ordered her to take off her top and give it to me.  When she
hesitated, I told her she was only making things worse by stalling.  She
better start cooperating and get in the habit of following requests
immediately and without question if she wanted any chance to receive
leniency from me throughout the day.  That threat kicked her into gear, and
she whipped her top off without delay and handed it over.

   We traded pieces.  I went to work on her crop top while she tried on the
newly altered shorts.  I was pleased to see she could now stretch the
material further and got it over her hips.  It hugged the contours of her
body nicely and was able to stay up even without a waistband!  But sadly,
it no longer reached her waist.  The ragged line on top ran around her
pelvis about an inch above her privates.  In back, she tugged and wrestled
with it until her entire butt crack was covered, but as soon as she let go
and started walking, it slipped and found its equilibrium much lower with
about a third of her bottom hanging out.

   Meanwhile, using the same scissors as before, I worked on altering her
top.  I carefully cut out all evidence of green trim, widening the neck and
removing an inch of green off the bottom which shortened the overall
length. When there was no green left, I handed it back to her to try on. 
The blue and yellow complemented her blonde hair and blue eyes nicely.  And
I was proud to find the ragged hem on both articles actually tied
everything together into a cohesive look.  A happy accident!

   There was one minor problem, though.  The top was much shorter now. 
Even standing still, I could see the bottom curves of her breasts hanging
out.  And whenever she raised a hand to brush a loose hair strand out of
her face or scratch her nose, one or both of her nipples peeked out.  I
started to have second thoughts.  As much fun as it would have been to
force her to keep her arms down all day or risk flashing her cute little
nipples to fellow shoppers, I worried that maybe this blatant exposure was
going too far.

   Just then mom called from downstairs that it was time to leave.  There
wasn't enough time to pick out another daring outfit for Lucy, but I didn't
want to let her off the hook and wear something normal either.  She saw me
wavering and stood with a glimmer of hope in her eyes, but didn't dare say
anything for risk of provoking my wrath.  I wracked my brain for a
solution, silently berating myself for foolishly thinking I could get
through the dare without planning ahead.  I had stupidly overestimated my
ability to improvise.

   I tried to think back to what had worked well in the past; use the tools
available to me.  Heat, pressure, time.  On edge and off balance.  I was
drawing a blank.  I was about to give up and let her change back into
something normal when, unable to keep her big mouth shut, she offered me a
last second plea deal.

   "I promise, Mikey.  I'll do whatever you say today immediately.  Just
please let me at least wear underwear to start out!"

   Of course!  It was just like the history presentation!  She had been
able to endure it because she started out with the most important places on
her body covered and was only gradually exposed.  And she was willingly
allowing herself to be put in the same predicament today.  If I would only
grant her this small concession to get things started.

   "No hesitating, no arguing, and no questions asked?" I challenged her.

   "Yes, I promise," she swore, "I'll do anything.  No hesitating, no
arguing, and no questions asked."

   I could work with that!



   Dare Me - Chapter 11 - Severance Package (Part 4)

   We set out for the city of Westfield about an hour away.  It was bigger
than our town with a greater variety of stores.  While Lucy had big plans,
particularly when it came to clothing purchases, I kept the official
checklist and was in charge of the money.  I kept it in a zippered pencil
pouch scavenged from Lucy's backpack and intended to only dole out the cash
as I deemed necessary.

   I had brought $2,500 total just in case, intending to only spend $1,000.
Just the basics.  It was far more than I had ever carried in my life.  I
will tell you how badly I squandered it that day.  But please don't judge
me.  After all, I was only 14!  I had no experience managing money!

   I clutched it in sweaty hands as we drove, worried someone would see us
flashing it around and try to steal it.  It didn't even occur to me to
worry if the money was somehow dirty.  We could have totally gotten
arrested for trying to buy stuff with counterfeit or marked bills.  That we
were shopping for supplies to flee the country would have made us look even
more suspicious.  But the money was gladly accepted everywhere we chose to
spend it.

   Mom had questioned Lucy's choice of outfit when she arrived at the car.
Even with her modest bra and panty set worn underneath, it was still a
rather salacious choice for a casual shopping day.  Her white panties
showed all the way around the waistband of her shorts and her bra cups
partially hung out the bottom of her shirt.  But Lucy insisted it was fine.
Mom bought her flimsy excuse that she couldn't find anything clean to wear
and had just thrown this on.  We were clothes shopping after all, weren't
we?  As soon as she found a nice outfit she liked, she would trade it out
for these disposable rags and wear it out of the store and the rest of the
day.  To complete her outfit, she wore white closed toe slipper flats that
she could get on and off easily.  Her hair was down and held back from her
face by a simple hairband.

   My primary target destination was Westfield's big mall, a one-stop shop
for all your vacation supply needs.  But on the way, mom made a request. 
She asked if she could check on getting a massage while we were in town to
help her decompress.  How could I refuse?  She is the one who had gone
through the stress of earning the severance package in the first place. 
She deserved to be pampered a little.

   So, our first stop ended up being a massage parlor in the nicer part of
town to see if they had any appointments free today.  She was in luck. 
They had an immediate opening.  I peeled off $200 for the massage plus tip
then Lucy and I, with an hour or so to kill, walked over to the nearby
luxury shopping district.  I didn't plan to spend any money there, just
kill some time and let Lucy get a few ideas on the latest fashion.

   Her eyes sparkled at every window display we passed.  It made me glad I
had control over the expenditures instead of mom.  Otherwise, we would be
broke by dinner time.  As we shopped, I looked for an opportunity to test
her vow of total compliance.  The opportunity came inside a cute little
swimwear boutique.  I had noticed the lone salesman up front eyeing Lucy up
and down, trying to undress her with his eyes and decided to give him the
thrill of a lifetime!

   She had picked out a cute one-piece and gone into the dressing area, a
series of curtained stalls down a short hall at the back of the store.  I
gave her just enough time to get undressed then barged in.  She was naked
and fiddling with the swimsuit, about to step into it.  She jumped and
covered herself with her hands then growled her disapproval at my uninvited
intrusion.

   "Hey Lucy, remember that question you asked me about getting a bikini
wax?  Go ask the salesman up front the same question.  You know, just to
get a second opinion."

   She looked justifiably befuddled at the strange request and didn't
really acknowledge it.  Working in a swimsuit boutique did not make him an
expert on bikini waxes.  Besides, why did she need a second opinion?  In
her mind, the matter was already settled.  She shook off my request and
started to step into her swimsuit when I interrupted again.

   "Right now!" I said, a little more forcefully this time.

   She paused then finally looked up and asked, "what?"

   "You promised, no hesitating, no arguing, and no questions asked," I
said with a wrathful edge in my voice.  "That was a question, and this is
your last warning.  Now, stop hesitating, leave the swimsuit, and GO!"

   She immediately dropped the suit and it fell into a puddle at her feet.
Her face twisted into a mix of fear and humiliation as the realization of
her impending task dawned on her.  But she forced her feet to step out of
the suit puddle and carry her naked body beyond the changing stall and down
the hall.

   The boutique was empty, maybe rich people don't shop for swimwear on
Wednesday afternoons, and it wasn't cold at all.  But Lucy still shivered
when she exited the changing area and entered the greater store area.  She
looked all around but kept her feet moving, every stride bringing her one
step closer to her impending total exposure at the hands of the lucky
salesman.

   I branched off and found a place where I could watch it play out without
being seen.  She rounded the last display and was now standing in the open
checkout area in clear sight of the windowed storefront.  The salesman
noticed the naked girl at once and his eyebrows raised.  She kept
approaching with all the innocence she could muster knowing if she acted
embarrassed, it would only make things worse.  She was just a regular
customer come to ask him a question with no clothes on.

   "Excuse me, mister," she began when she was within conversational range.
Then, after a deep breath, she blurted out her question as quickly as she
could in one big run-on sentence.

   "My friend Alexandra says you have to get a bikini wax if you're going
to wear a swimsuit at our age - She says it's the best way to keep your
hair from poking out down there - Only, I don't see any hair - Alexandra
said the wax really hurts and I don't want to get one if I don't need to -
Do you think I need a bikini wax?"

   It took him a few seconds to process her question.  Then, to her great
dismay, he smiled and waved her closer.  He told her something, an
instruction.  It was too soft for me to make out, but I saw a blush form on
her cheeks.  She had no choice but to continue her naive act; thrusting her
pelvis out for his thorough inspection as if this was a service he
regularly performed for his female patrons.

   While he grazed his hand over her naked mound, he asked her some
questions that I couldn't hear.  Then he must have said he needed to check
if she had hair anywhere else on her body, because she lifted her arms
above her head to let him inspect her armpits.  One of his hands remained
occupied with her pussy, but the other reached up to confirm they were
completely smooth.  When he dropped that hand, he intentionally let it
slide down over her breast.

   Then he had her turn in place to make sure everything else was in order
and declared her entire body to be exceptionally and completely bald; no
bikini wax needed!  She acted relieved at the news, then thanked him and
retreated in a little jog, her blonde hair bouncing behind her in time with
her cute little bottom.

   When I got back to the changing area, she glared at me angrily.  But I
knew it was all an act.  Her body betrayed her true feelings about the
encounter.  Her nipples were poking out and a glistening sheen of moisture
was beginning to form between her legs.  Heat and Pressure.  I glared right
back at her, though, sending a message that I wasn't messing around.  She
would pay with more humiliation if she dared to defy me next time I gave
her an instruction.

   Having completed my little test, I let her relax and get back to
shopping after that.  I was happy to wait until we got to the mall to give
her more challenges.  There would be a lot more people, and a lot of kids
her age too with school letting out soon.  I even let her buy something at
one of the fancy stores.  It was an overpriced designer "travel" purse for
$129.  It was completely unnecessary, but I let her get it anyway.  No need
to be a total grinch.  I would find a way to squeeze it out of the budget.

   After that, we met up with mom to go to the mall.  She looked more
relaxed after her massage.  Since she was really just here to be our
transportation, I suggested she drop us off and go get pampered some more.
She had mentioned something about a pedicure and haircut.  When we arrived,
I peeled off a few more hundreds, which she happily took, and told her to
pick us up a few hours later at 5:00.  It was nice to see her smile for a
change.  But my real motive was to keep her occupied and out of the way so
I could focus on ramping up Lucy's humiliation at the mall.  I was finally
starting to get into it and my creative juices were flowing.

   This was going to be fun!