Part 3
Meanwhile, outside, Joe lit a cigarette and leaned against his usual
spot on the textured wall. He often used this time to reflect on his
decision to leave the army. "What if...." At length, a slight breeze
sent a few leaves scuttling across the deserted parking lot, bringing
him back to reality. He was relieved: there was no silver BMW parked
near the entrance or anywhere else. And yet.... He French-inhaled the
last of the cigarette and dropped the butt, grinding it into the asphalt.
Clenching his fists and stretching his big arms straight out, he twisted
his body from side to side, then tilted his head back, and groaned.
Slowly, he relaxed. He'd been an M.P. -- not a "real" cop, maybe, but
close enough to have a little voice in his gut that whispered warnings
to him when things weren't quite what they seemed. And right now, his
gut was screaming at him. Abruptly, he turned and went back through the
outer door and double-timed for the nearby automated surveillance room.
*********************************
Rita, mortified, continued to study the tiled floor. Involuntarily, her
buttocks occasionally twitched. She was grateful that her skirt and
shoes were dry, but annoyed at her socks, which felt damp. The cool,
white, almost sterile environment here made her feel particularly
unclean. Above all, though, she was glad to be out of those ghastly
panties, wet with who-knows-what. Even so, her mind was still a-whirl.
Although Stephanie maintained her cool veneer, inwardly she knew she had
acted impulsively. She knew her only real protection was that there were
no witnesses. She could deny everything. She also knew that Rita would
not be quick to acknowledge her infantile regression. Responsibly, her
next action should be to deposit Rita back into the holding room right
away, before Hal or Joe returned. However, she knew a unique opportunity
had been given her.
Stephanie rewound the last few minutes in her mind and pondered them.
As a women's wear salesclerk in an up-scale department store, she had
been expected to subordinate herself to even the most casual whims of her
customers. But spanking Rita had changed that. It had been a catalyst,
focusing all her repressed aggression. She was giddy with her new-found,
intoxicating, addictive power. And she yearned for one more turn of the
screw, though she was still sober enough to realize that her next move
would be a gamble. She turned to the mirror and positioned herself so
that she could watch Rita watching her. She removed the tortoise shell
clip and allowed her hair to fall about her shoulders.
"You really shouldn't be too mad. I mean, it's easy to see why they
thought you were a schoolgirl."
Rita's cowed expression encouraged Stephanie to continue her taunts.
Adjusting her bra, she tugged at the white fabric and slipped her right
hand inside the cup. Her hand was still warm from slapping Rita's
bottom, and her breast absorbed some of that. It was delicious.
She sighed and then continued.
"I mean, you're so small and pale. And, let's be honest, your figure is
not...well, you're not very curvy."
Rita accepted the taunt passively, and Stephanie was further encouraged.
She turned away from the mirror and stood over her. Rita slowly lifted
her eyes from the floor. Barefoot and half-naked, Stephanie was still
intimidating. Her adult figure mocked Rita's immature appearance. Rita
unconsciously crossed her feet.
"Oh, you've ruined your socks. You should have spoken up. Let's take
care of that." Stephanie's tone was distinctly motherly.
She wrapped her hand around Rita's wrist and pulled her from the stool.
The humiliation of her spanking and the shame of her accident still
lingering, Rita obediently followed, unresisting. She hoped that, if
she cooperated, things would get straightened out sooner rather than
later and she could begin putting this whole incident behind her. She
longed to end the charade and, shuffling down the hall, she let her mind
drift forward.
She imagined herself soaking in her whirlpool tub, candlelight glinting
off the marble walls of her bathroom. Lovingly the bubbles would tingle
across her bare body and dissipate the evening's events in a fragrant
mist. She would guide her Egyptian cotton towel softly over the smooth,
clean plains and inviting valleys of her body. Perhaps she would pause
for a moment to pleasure herself. Next, she would meticulously apply her
makeup and arrange her hair in a sophisticated style. Then she would
grandly fling open the double doors of her closet and gaze upon her
extensive wardrobe. Decisively, she would chose the most elegant and
expensive ensemble available....
Suddenly her thoughts were interrupted as she was pushed through a
doorway and into a small, shadowy, light blue room that was illuminated
by a single bright desk lamp.
"Sit down," Stephanie said with emphasis. "Not there. There!" She
pointed to a padded table.
Rita backed to the table and placed her hands behind her on the table's
surface. In her weakened state, she struggled to conquer the waist-high
exam table. Smiling indulgently, Stephanie took hold of Rita's hips and
lifted her the additional four inches onto the salmon-colored pad. Rita
instinctively recoiled in fear, but relaxed as Stephanie shifted her
attention toward the bank of low cabinets. Being boosted onto the table
and left sitting there, high off the floor, combined with the buttery
sensation on her bare, heated bottom made Rita feel childish. Idly, she
pushed down the front of her skirt. She began to swing her legs, but
stopped and mentally rebuked herself for regressing so effortlessly.
For several minutes, Stephanie bustled through the various cabinets
beneath the narrow counter. She emerged, finally, with a small bundle
wrapped in a towel.
"Take off your shoes and socks," she said.
Rita bent her right leg up and onto the table. As she unbuckled her
shoe, she noticed Stephanie was grinning.
"My, my, that looks like a pretty close shave down there. Real smooth."
Stephanie's tone was mocking. "How old are you...really?"
Rita ignored her, turning slightly and tugging at the hem of her jumper.
She pulled off her second shoe and placed it neatly beside the other one.
Methodically, she stripped off her damp knee socks.
Stephanie, refusing to touch the wet garments, and held out a plastic
wastebasket. She then produced a small can of powder and rubbed some of
it onto Rita's calves, caressing them in the process. This
uncharacteristic tenderness and the sweet, familiar smell of the powder
caused Rita to slip into a sensual fog.
"Why don't you lie back, so I can get this better? You don't want to
smell bad."
Rita nodded. She lay back into the soft cushion and wondered fleetingly
about Stephanie's orientation. To her clouded mind, it almost seemed as
though Stephanie was apologizing, and.... Rita closed her eyes.
Stephanie continued to massage Rita's lower legs. Twice her hand strayed
above the knee, causing Rita to breathe in sharply.
Rita suddenly snapped out of her dream as she felt her legs thrust into
the air. In one quick motion, Stephanie had locked her left arm under
Rita's knees and forced her legs upward. Rita's pleated skirt fell back
to her waist. She was completely exposed.
"What the hell are you doing?" Rita shouted.
"Did you think I was a lesbian?" Stephanie laughed.
"Let me go! Please put my legs down."
"Not before we're done. We don't want you to get a rash. Oh, gee,
you're so smooth...baby smooth." Stephanie punctuated her last remark
with an over-generous amount of powder. It cascaded down over Rita's
upturned, wriggling bottom. Stephanie wrapped her arm completely around
Rita's kicking legs.
"Quit it!" Rita cried. Stephanie dropped the can of powder and slapped
Rita's small behind, sending a white cloud airborne.
SWAT! SWAT!
"Haven't we been down this road already? Be still or I'll use a
hairbrush on your ass!" Stephanie barked.
The pain of Stephanie's hand had previously brought her to tears, so
Rita shuddered at the thought of a hairbrush repeatedly assaulting her
bare butt. She stopped moving, hoping that would satisfy her tormentor.
Stephanie applied additional pressure to the backs of Rita's knees,
lifting her bottom higher into the air and away from the padded table.
Rita heard the crinkle of plastic and felt something soft against the
small of her back. Her legs were allowed to fall back onto the table.
Then, presto! and her smooth crotch was encased in fabric and plastic.
She lifted her head awkwardly and stared at the disposable diaper.
"There, that's much better," Stephanie said sweetly.
Hesitantly, Rita reached down and touched the diaper.
"Why...why did you do that?" she choked out.
"Well, when I first met you, you seemed so grown up, but I think you were
just pretending. And, of course, we don't want any more accidents like
before." Stephanie spoke casually.
Rita sat up on the table. "But I don't need a diaper," she sniffled.
"Oh, really?" Stephanie gestured to her bra and towel ensemble.
"That was just an accident. I'm not wearing this."
Rita started to peel back the adhesive tab, but her hand was twisted
painfully away. For a second, she locked eyes with Stephanie, but then
she lowered her head. She feared another confrontation. Stephanie
relaxed her grip slightly and eased Rita off the table. When her bare
feet met the cold vinyl floor, Rita gasped, and her toes curled. She
shifted her gaze upward again, cautiously, to discover that Stephanie's
cleavage was now at eye level.
"Can we...can we just go back?" Rita stammered. A single tear rolled
down her left cheek. "I want to go home."
Stephanie beamed. This was the moment she had worked toward. She had
realized a fantasy. She had taken an uptight, snotty woman and reduced
her to a whimpering, diapered child. Stephanie was beside herself with
glee. Demanding customers and inconsiderate colleagues would now be on
notice. She embraced this moment of triumph and wished it could last and
last. She knew, however, that Joe or Hal would soon return. Anxious now
to clothe herself, Stephanie tossed a worn, flimsy pair of frilly ankle
socks at Rita. She waited, impatient now, while Rita put on socks and
shoes. Then she began herding the defeated woman back the way they had
come.
The hallway was silent except for the rustle of Rita's diaper, an
unmistakable sound. As they started out toward the security office,
utter humiliation welled up and washed over Rita, and she began to cry.
*********************************
Down in the surveillance room, Joe replaced the parking lot security tape
with a fresh one. He quickly labeled the old one and pushed it into the
machine they used for viewing. He rewound until he saw it: a silver BMW
parked at the entrance. He fast-forwarded the tape and watched a young
woman in a smart business suit climb into the car and speed away. (The
time was recorded as 8:59.) Moving back and forth through the moment,
he studied the scene, practically pixel by pixel, attempting to extract
anything definite regarding her identity. Unfortunately the camera
failed to show her face very clearly. Then he began rewinding the tape
and checking the scene every time the counter clicked off fifteen minutes
or so. Again and again, he was greeted by the still image of the parked
BMW. At last, however, he reached a point where that parking spot showed
up empty. It was simple then to find the the exact moment of arrival.
Fascinated (and somewhat apprehensive), he watched Rita step out of the
silver BMW. (According to the tape, that was at 6:46.) He played it
over and over, utilizing the equipment's limited enhancement features to
sharpen the image of Rita's face. He shifted back and forth between the
first scene and the last. Upon such close examination, he began to see
slight but definite differences between the two women. He inexorably
concluded that Rita had entered the store, but someone else, dressed in
her clothes, had exited and driven off in her car.
Joe, in a sweat, reached for his radio.
*********************************
Hal disengaged the alarm bar of the metal security door and pushed it
open. He was greeted by two large figures -- a man and a woman.
"Sorry about this, thanks for coming. I'm Hal Hefner, head of security
here."
"Thank you. I am Ms. Murgess, and this is Stan." She gestured backwards
while she stepping through the door and into the hallway. "Lead the way.
It was reported that the young hoyden was nude, so we came prepared.
Stan has a complete Harrington uniform in his bag...'small size' as we
were told. Stan will follow us at a suitable distance, unless he is
needed. Now, it is getting late."
Hal allowed the heavy door to slam shut. He inserted his key into the
bar and waited for the audible beep that indicated that the door was set.
He smiled at Ms. Murgess and then set off down the long hallway.
*********************************
