Part 2
Hal crossed in front of Rita and sat behind the grubby metal desk that
was the primary piece of furniture in this dismal room.
"My school?" Rita trembled slightly. Her bare butt cheeks felt stuck to
the molded plastic chair in which Joe had planted her.
She mentally paged through her contacts. Her parents were in Italy with
her family's attorney. Her few friends would want to help (at first),
but would eventually close their social circle to her. She knew she was
alone. Bluster having failed, she decided to rely on reason and
diplomacy. She edged calmly forward, as her bare bottom peeled away
from the plastic chair.
"Look! My name is Rita Donovan. I am not in school. I am twenty-four
years old, and I live in Long View. Your man, rent-a-cop, security
guard, whatever, has made a huge mistake. I am not accustomed to being
handled in such a...."
Her voice rose as her frustration swelled. She began to reiterate her
entire story, but Hal smiled thinly and slowly raised his hand, palm out.
He had been in charge of security at Nelson's for almost six years. He
knew the dance. Rita's fresh face, small body, and smooth privates did
little to counter his earlier impressions. Without acknowledging Rita's
comments, he opened the folder on his desk and began a methodical series
of routine questions. He paused only twice to sip his lukewarm coffee,
and, after several minutes, Rita realized that he had stopped taking
notes. She stopped talking.
"So, one more time. What's your real name?" Hal leaned forward.
Joe grinned and clomped into the back office. He returned with a big,
black, twin-lens camera.
"Okay.... Picture time," Joe sang as he loomed over Rita and snapped a
photo.
"Stop it!" Rita cried out, rubbing her eyes and tugging at the hem of
the towel and cringing beneath Joe's shadow. The implicit menace
instantly transported her back to a distant, long-ago playground, years
of confidence melting away. Joe snorted comically at the sight of her
childish protest. He set the big camera down on the desk in front of
Hal and left the office.
"Relax. He was focused on your face. It's standard. It's for the
insurance." Hal ceremoniously tossed his pen onto the newly created
file and leaned back.
"Look miss, we're not stupid. We keep a close eye on the floor when you
kids are around here. We saw four of you come in together just before
7:00. And guess what? We spotted only three leaving. Then, 'bout an
hour ago, we got a call from Harrington's. So imagine our shock and
surprise when we see you poking around down there." His tone was
dripping with sarcasm. He gestured toward the several security monitors
(now dark) banked against the far wall.
Rita's stomach tightened. They had been watching her. They had seen her
moving around naked at the makeup counter. She unconsciously tugged
again at the hem of the towel. Then, as the ramifications of the words
"school" and "you kids" tumbled through her mind, she shifted back in her
seat. Hal smiled at her smooth bare legs. Slowly an idea began to take
shape, and Rita seductively smiled back. It was the sort of smile that
got men into trouble. She then carefully straightened her back and
repositioned her legs. Hal casually shaded his eyes and swiveled his
chair away about 90 degrees. He desperately attempted to dispel the
image of the freckled teen vamping before him.
The room remained silent for a several moments.
*********************************
Stephanie failed to repress a small giggle as she imagined the irate
woman dressed in the childish uniform. She had packed the entire uniform
into a discarded blue zippered bag and started down the passageway, back
toward her deserving prey. She checked her lapel watch: 9:34. The bitch
had had some time now to cool her heels and reflect on her manners. As
she clicked down the empty hallway, Stephanie assumed a more commanding
demeanor. She fully anticipated a conflict. And it was a battle she
would inevitably win. She smiled again. Preoccupied with her fantasy,
she turned a corner and walked directly into Joe's chest.
*********************************
"So, what was it? A bet...a game?" Hal spoke innocently, turning back
to face her. "Never mind. I really just wanna know where your clothes
are."
"Here they are," Joe announced from the office doorway, presenting a
blue zippered bag.
"Oh, thank God! Finally!" Rita was jubilant.
"Here!" Joe dropped the bag into Rita's lap, and he pointed to the back
office. "Get dressed."
"Thank you," Rita snapped. "And I want your names and a copy of that
report when I return." She carefully stood and tugged at the back of
the towel. Cautiously, she shuffled into the back office. At the sight
of her bare cheeks peeking out from under the towel, Joe smiled.
"How did you find them so quickly?" Hal asked in low voice.
Joe cocked his head and thumbed toward the hallway. "I ran into Steph.
She was bringing the clothes.... And Door 7's okay."
Hal nodded and stepped into the hall to greet Stephanie.
"You know who she is?" Hal inquired in a low whisper.
"Just one of those girls who come in here all the time. They're always
causing trouble. She practically lost it with me downstairs," Stephanie
lied smoothly.
She was pleased with her good fortune. The nude woman had been further
humiliated by being dragged off to security. Normally Stephanie would
have clocked out by this time, but the prospect of seeing Rita dressed
in the uniform was just too compelling.
Hal grimaced and shrugged his shoulders. "Better stay out here, then.
We don't want to set her off again."
"Sure," Stephanie answered, hiding her disappointment.
Suddenly a loud, exasperated wail came from the back office.
"Ooohhh! These are not my clothes! I'm not wearing this!" Rita
announced.
Hal appeared in the doorway to the back office as Rita stood there,
self-consciously clutching the loaner towel to her nude form.
"Then go around like that -- doesn't bother me," Hal said flatly.
"This is a school uniform. I'm not dressing in this. I keep telling
you people I am not a student! I was downstairs. I went out of the
changing rooms...." Rita's voice trailed off as Hal slowly approached
and stood over her. Next to his hulking form, she felt very small
indeed. He paused, then spoke in a very controlled manner.
"This is all you've got. So, unless you want to be hauled off by the
police in your birthday suit, I suggest you comply."
"What? Does this turn you on? Having me play dress up? I'm sure my
attorney would love...." Rita was immediately cut off as Hal grabbed
her left arm and spun her around, revealing her tiny, pale bottom. His
meaty right hand landed two well-placed swats on each cheek in quick
succession.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
"Put it on!"
Infuriated, Hal released her and stepped away. Rita sniffled. Slowly
she lowered the towel, trembling as more of her pale skin was exposed
to the chill office air. She reached back and rubbed both bottom cheeks
reflexively. She stood there, naked and friendless, and pondered the
situation.
("Any clothes are better than nothing at all. When I'm dressed, they'll
deal with me more seriously," she thought.)
She stepped into the plain white cotton panties and pulled them up, over
her hips. They were not as snug as she had hoped and drooped a little.
And -- omigod! -- the crotch was damp! Eeuwww! She shuddered and forced
herself to think of other things....
The white knee socks were too long, for example. She frowned. Digging
into the blue bag, she found a soft bra that contained no underwire or
padding. In fact, it more closely resembled a sports bra or even a...a
training bra. Unlike her usual bras, which enhanced her figure, this
one relied strictly on the shape of the girl. On a well-endowed woman
it would not have mattered, but on Rita it flattened her small breasts.
Adjusting the garment, she turned and drew in a deep breath. She stared
at her reflection in a metal storage cabinet. The image was distorted,
but she did have time to study it, unlike before, in Joe's grip. She
stood motionless and appalled, in her stocking feet, mouth agape. Her
small, pale frame and flat chest -- especially in combination with the
freckles, the urchin hairdo, and all -- did give her the appearance of a
skinny twelve year old. Shaken, she continued dressing.
She slipped on the white, short-sleeved blouse with its ridiculous Peter
Pan style collar. Desperately, she searched through the bag, but found
only the blue plaid "jumper" -- basically a short, pleated skirt with a
high waist and two broad straps, one over each shoulder. Though it
seemed to have been worn by a taller girl, it was scandalously short,
even on Rita.
Attached to the blouse's collar was a secretary's tie. It was a small,
flat ribbon of fabric that matched the jumper. Unfortunately, it was
sewn into the blouse's collar, so Rita was forced to button it in the
center. She bent down and pushed her feet into the two black shoes
provided. They were flat-heeled and decidedly childish in appearance.
They were also a little loose, but each did have a strap and brass
buckle that she tightened as much as she could.
She hesitated before turning again to the metal cabinet. Its distorted
reflection mocked her, and she slipped back in time. Hours earlier, all
style and arrogance, she had strutted into Nelson's, dressed in her crisp
business attire. Now her nylons had been replaced with cheap white knee
socks, her tailored silk suit had become a polyester school uniform, and
even her impeccably styled hair was tangled and childishly adorned with
barrettes. Rita shivered at the transformation.
"All done?" Hal interrupted. "Hurry up. They'll be here soon to take
you back."
"Back?" Rita asked. "Back to what?"
"Your school. Where did you think you were going? We're not going to
file charges. You're underage, and it's really not worth our efforts.
Besides, I know what kind of school Harrington's is." Hal's voice was
casual, but carried an undertone of amusement.
Rita felt the panic rising. Her mind flashed over the evening's sequence
of events. She had behaved like nothing more than a defiant child, and
now she was dressed the part. She realized that, without her ID or
purse or cell phone, she was stuck as a schoolgirl.
Purse...keys...car.... Car!
"My car is downstairs!" she said excitedly. "It has all my information,
registration, whatever.... I can prove what I'm saying."
She studied Hal's dubious expression, then she went on, trying hard to
stay calm and rational.
"Now, I want you men to think about this really carefully. If I am who
I say I am, and it does turn out that I actually am twenty-four year old
Rita Donovan...."
Hal considered the possibility...and realized the obvious repercussions
of such a blunder.
"Joe, go check it out," he ordered. And Joe started for the door.
"It's a silver BMW -- parked close to the entrance," Rita shouted after
Joe, who rolled his eyes and kept going.
"You better not be lying, 'cause if you are, I'm gonna punish you
myself," Hal snapped.
Tingles moved across Rita's panty-clad bottom. She swallowed as she
realized he could quite easily make good on his threat. She tried to
get rid of the mental image of her schoolgirl form flung across Hal's
expansive lap as she kicked and squealed.
Would he? Would he pull down her panties and expose her bare white butt
while Joe watched? Would Joe see her privates as she kicked? If Joe
returned, unable to find any evidence of her adult status, would Hal
really do it? Would he really spank her? Rita felt her heart pounding.
Her cotton panties were becoming even damper.
If Joe found nothing, there would be no reprieve until her situation
was resolved. Obviously the school would be aware that she was not a
student, but meanwhile her treatment would be unbearable.
The minutes ticked by slowly...until a loud buzzer broke the tension.
Hal went to his desk and pressed the intercom button. Nervous, Rita
followed.
"Yes?" Hal asked.
"Hello, I'm here from Harrington School," a woman's voice crackled
through the speaker.
"Wait there. I'll be right down." Hal swung around and roughly grabbed
Rita's upper arm.
"Please don't spank me again!" Rita cried out, instinctively covering
her backside with her free hand.
She struggled, but Hal had little difficulty in dragging her past the
back office and up to a door with a reinforced glass window. He deftly
unlocked the door, opened it, guided her inside a couple of feet,
released her, backed out, and shut the door. Confused, Rita stared at
him through the glass. There was no knob on the inside of the door. Her
mind was spinning, and she felt her adulthood slip away.
Exiting the office, Hal passed by Stephanie, standing just outside. He
paused, momentarily.
"Keep an eye on her. She can't get out of there, but watch her anyway.
The keys are on the desk."
He grunted, shook his head, and hurried on down the hallway.
Stephanie had purposely and patiently waited outside the office door.
Now that Joe and Hal had both departed on separate errands, she knew her
moment had come. It was 9:49. It took a good fifteen minutes to get
from this office to the rear security door and probably a bit more than
that to escort a guest from there back to here. She also knew that Joe
tended to straggle and often took longer on his rounds than necessary.
Originally she had intended only to humiliate that woman. She had
planned to force her to dress in the uniform, and then perhaps tease her
and send her on her way. But this was so much better....
Stephanie stepped inside the security office and shut the door. She
paused for a moment, then cautiously approached the reinforced window
into the holding room. She peeped through it, and what it revealed was
sweet indeed.
Oblivious, Rita was standing in the middle of the tiny and otherwise
empty holding room. She was no longer the image of a sophisticated
businesswoman. Now she was the very model of a fresh-faced schoolgirl.
She even appeared smaller and younger than Stephanie had remembered.
When Stephanie noticed the freckles dotted across Rita's nose and cheeks,
she laughed out loud. Though muffled somewhat by the intervening door,
it instantly drew Rita's wide-eyed attention.
"You! You did this. You know these aren't my clothes. You gave them
these clothes! They think I'm some...escaped reform school crazy girl.
You have to tell them the truth!" Rita was, by turns, accusatory and
pleading. Stephanie smirked.
"The truth? But you make such a cute little girl." Stephanie grinned
and folded her arms.
"I am not a little girl! Why won't anyone believe me? I am not a
little girl!" Rita screamed as she stamped her foot repeatedly. Finally
becoming aware of the implications of her outburst, she stopped and
stood trembling. A small tear formed and rolled down her right cheek.
"Well, you're certainly acting like one," Stephanie cooed. "Aww, are
you crying?"
Rita pressed against the window, and Stephanie instinctively stepped
back. Rita's eyes caressed Stephanie's outfit. She gazed especially
longingly at the high heels and nylons.
She calmly tried a new tactic.
"Look, you have to let me out of here. I-I have to go to the bathroom.
I do. I really do. Please?"
Rita pulled down at the hem of the jumper and pressed her thighs
together, twisting her feet inward. The illusion of the contrite
schoolgirl made Stephanie laugh again. She knew she was being conned.
"Why should I? You were really rude to me earlier, and now you are
getting a little back. I think it's perfect!" Stephanie was blissfully
snide.
"You don't understand. They really think I'm some schoolgirl runaway.
They're coming to get me right now and take me away. And please, I do
have to p-pee -- at least let me out to go do that. I'm sorry I was
rude earlier. I'll do anything you ask. But please, you have to help
me!" Rita was really blubbering now.
Stephanie contemplated the situation. She knew the game was ending.
Reluctantly, she held up the key.
"I'm just letting you out to go to the bathroom. We'll straighten the
rest out when Hal gets back."
"Thank you. Finally, thank you." Rita sounded sincerely grateful.
Stephanie opened the holding room door, and, in a flash, Rita shoved her
into the doorjamb and scrambled past, heading toward the office door.
With sweaty palms, she twisted furiously at the doorknob, but it didn't
budge.
In Rita's mind, one twist of the main office door and she would be
practically restored to her adulthood. Downstairs contained an entire
department store of salvation.
"Nooo," Rita cried; the sound of jangling keys caused her to pivot round.
"Locked?" Stephanie stood grinning. "I thought you might try that. I'm
not going to get fired over a little girl like you."
"Stop calling me that and open this damn door!"
Rita swung a slap at Stephanie, but the latter was prepared. She deftly
wrenched Rita's arm into a hammerlock. Noticing the nearby plastic
chair, and feeling she was going to need a bit more freedom of movement,
she had no trouble in shrugging off her jacket and draping it over the
back of the chair. She sat down and heaved Rita across her lap, never
minding that, in the process, her own skirt rode up above her stocking
tops. Rita continued her verbal assaults even as she felt her pleated
skirt pulled all the way up to her waist. She writhed across Stephanie's
nylon-encased thighs until the first swat landed on her panties. The
sound of the slap was suitably impressive in that relatively confined
space.
"Owww!" Rita screamed. "Stop. What the hell are you doing, you bitch?
Lemme go!"
Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!
"I'm gonna sue you! Just wait till...."
Whack!
"You're going to do what, little girl?"
Whack! Whack! Whack! Stephanie continued the lesson.
"I'm not a...."
Whack!
"Ooow! Not a little girl!"
Whack! Whack! Whack!
"Have you looked in a mirror lately?" Stephanie mocked.
Whack! Whack! Whack!
"Lemme up, godammit!"
"Tsk, tsk. Such language. I think these need to come down." Stephanie
effortlessly whisked down Rita's panties. The cool air caressed her
heated, bare bottom.
"Noooo. Please don't!" She attempted to cover her bottom with her free
hand.
Stephanie observed the slight outline of a large hand print. "Oooh, such
a pink butt. Looks like somebody's been naughty. Have you been
naughty?"
Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!
"Have you?" Stephanie demanded.
Whack! Whack!
"Yes," Rita answered meekly.
Whack! Whack!
"Yes, what?" Stephanie prodded.
"Yes, I've been naughty," Rita choked out.
Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!
"What are you?" Stephanie barked.
"What?" Rita was nonplussed.
Whack! Whack! Whack!
"What are you?" Stephanie pushed.
Whack! Whack!
"I'm...I'm a naughty little girl!" Rita sobbed. The remnants of her
adult mind faded. Dressed as a schoolgirl and draped over the lap of a
younger woman, she was being soundly spanked. She was no longer the
haughty heiress, teasing men in nightclubs. She was a bare-bottomed
little girl being punished. Images from her past collided in her mind.
Whack! Whack! Whack!
Stephanie was ecstatic. Rita had ceased being just a single snotty
customer and become the surrogate for every arrogant and obnoxious and
self-absorbed narcissist she had encountered in almost three years at
Nelson's.
Rita kicked her legs and cried aloud, "Stop it! It hurts! Hurts bad!
Please let me up! Wait, wait, please! Oh, just let me up...please!
I'll be good, I promise!"
She struggled in vain against Stephanie's powerful hold. She began to
panic.
Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!
Suddenly Rita squeezed her legs together tightly. Stephanie stopped
in mid-swat. She felt a growing warmth spread across her lap.
Dramatically, she threw Rita off. Rita grimaced and pressed her upper
thighs together, while a small stream of urine trickled down her legs
and soaked her panties. She stood motionless, holding her skirt up,
and quietly sobbing.
Stephanie's lips curled in suppressing a laugh.
"My, my.... And I thought you were a big girl."
The smell began to permeate the stale office air. Stephanie looked down
at her wet lap and blouse.
"Dammit! Come on, let's get cleaned up. Step out of those wet panties."
Rita complied.
Stephanie gathered up a handful of paper towels from Hal's desk. In one
quick motion, she wiped up the small pool of pee, along with the
abandoned panties, and deposited the whole mess in the wastebasket.
After unlocking the office door and returning the keys to the desk, she
wrapped her hand around Rita's wrist and led her out into the hallway.
Rita followed numbly. Childhood memories of her mother and "talks" in
the bathroom swam through her already flooded psyche.
After a short walk, they entered the women employees' locker room.
Stephanie parked Rita on a low stool next to the washbasins and tossed
her a warm, wet face cloth.
She commanded, "Clean yourself up!"
Stephanie studied her own clothing in the mirror. There was a large,
distinctive circular stain encompassing her midsection.
Indignant, but thankful that both skirt and blouse were washable, she
stripped them off and placed them in a sink full of soapy water. She
looked down again and groaned. Everything south of her bra was soaked.
So the lingerie went into a second sink.
There was a shower there, but Stephanie wanted to stay out where she
could keep an eye on Rita. So, at a third sink, she proceeded to wash
her face (what little makeup she usually wore was pretty much gone now,
anyway), and then her midriff, crotch, and thighs. Afterward, nude from
the waist down, she searched the locker room, scavenged a towel, and
fashioned herself a skirt. She deliberately put an extra wiggle in her
movements to remind Rita of the differences in their respective bodies.
It worked. Rita's eyes followed her like a cobra watches a mongoose.
Stephanie turned and placed her hands on her hips. A wicked smile
played about her lips as she stared at Rita.
Rita lowered her eyes and shuddered.
The mongoose always wins.
*********************************
