The Doctors\' Wives

Sylvia had promised that she would lay out Jodi’s cocktail outfit for her on the bed, and there it was as promised. Jodi stood by herself in the back bedroom looking nothing more than a small pile of lingerie. The long afternoon sun streamed in the west window and cast a bright ray across the bed, highlighting the comically-skimpy waitress outfit that Sylvia had selected for her to wear to the evening’s gala event.

 

At first Jodi looked underneath it, thinking there had to be some mistake. She pulled the covers back and checked under there, but of course there was nothing more. She even tried looking under the bed. Finally she gave up and gathered up the underwear, storming out into the kitchen with it to look for Sylvia.

 

Sure enough Sylvia was there, busy yelling at the cooks— complaining as usual about the bitterness of the consommé, the temperature of the wine, silverware and a hundred other things that rich hostesses love to do while they’re not actually doing any work. Jodi marched right up to her, indignantly holding up the handful of underwear in front of the kitchen crew and wait staff. “This? This is what you want me to wear tonight?” she said hotly, shaking the lingerie menacingly in Sylvia’s face. Sylvia’s face flushed red for just an instant, and wasting no time she composed herself enough to grab Jodi by the arm and escort her to the other room. She pinched Jodi’s arm painfully, lifting upward and making it hard for Jodi to keep up.

 

Reaching the other room, Sylvia whirled around and slapped her. Hard. Jodi rocked back, instinctively bringing a hand to her face. “That’s right, honey,” Sylvia hissed at her, just softly enough for the staff not to hear. “And if you don’t like it, you can leave right now, back to your shitty little life… without pay. Otherwise, put it on and grab a tray. I’m not paying you to embarrass me like that!” Jodi recoiled, frightened at how quickly Sylvia had turned on her. She started to cry, then decided not to give her the satisfaction. Sylvia turned to go, then turned back. “And I’ll tell you something else, you little slattern” she continued, her words dripping venom. “You’ll never make this much money without lying on your back. And you know it.”

 

With that she simply left Jodi cowering, turned, and resumed her verbal assault on the kitchen staff without missing a beat. The staff— having been noticeably silent throughout their conversation as they strained to hear— resumed their work abruptly, banging their pots and pans and continuing as if nothing had happened. Whatever else, Jodi knew that she could expect no help from them after that.

 

She returned to the bedroom, threw the underwear in a pile on the bed and turned to leave. Reaching the door she reminded herself that she needed money very badly if she was to stay in college, and that no matter what else happened she might as well walk away from this job with something to show for it. She walked back over to the bed and examined the lingerie, noting that it must’ve cost a fortune. She began to undress, deciding at last that it was worth it, if only for this one event.

 

Jodi finished dressing and sat alone on the bed in her humiliating new outfit for over an hour, waiting for the house to fill with the party guests. She felt naked— naked and dirty, hoping against hope that the guest list didn’t include anyone she knew. There was a nightstand next to the bed; she passed the time looking through the drawers. In one of them she found an expensive-looking locket, obviously an antique and with a beautiful chain. She stashed it in her purse impulsively, assuring herself that Sylvia owed her at least that much for having put her through this whole grotesque embarrassment. The locket fell to the bottom of the purse where it clinked innocently with her car keys; she saw a faint glimmer of gold and snapped the purse shut.

 

Presently the guests arrived one by one; she waited until there were a fair number of ladies present and they were all seated before coming out to work. Taking a deep breath, Jodi strode through the swinging doors and out into the roomful of women, wearing only what she’d been given: black heels, stockings, a revealing bra and black silk panties. She almost looked down to check her bra and suddenly thought the better of it; it didn’t cover her nipples anyway. The guests paused their conversations and looked her over approvingly, smiling at each other. They were extremely well-heeled; the room smelled of expensive perfume and clothes. She walked through the room to the kitchen, keeping her eyes fixed on the doorway to that room and intent on doing a job satisfactory enough to demand money from Sylvia later. The rich women quietly watched her strut through the room, each of them smiling to each other as she went by. 

 

Jodi dutifully carried her tray of drinks to the first table and tried to be as businesslike as she could under the circumstances. The rest of the wait staff giggled and nudged each other; she felt her face grow flush from embarrassment, though they knew that this was an exclusive party indeed and they quickly went back to their jobs. Jodi hastily made her way to the first table near the wall, anxious to get out of the middle of the room. She felt eyes on her as she did, and heard whispers as she passed by. She couldn’t even imagine what they must’ve been saying.

 

The first lady at the table put her hand on top of hers reassuringly. “I know how it must be for you, sweetheart,” she said, reaching in her expensive purse and sliding a bill under Jodi’s with her other hand. “But you look beautiful.” Jodi picked up the bill with a stray napkin and hastily put it on top of the drink tray, noticing out of the corner of her eye that it was a hundred. The older woman smiled warmly up at her. “I’ll have a tonic, honey.” With that, the woman simply returned to her conversation.

 

Jodi noted the woman’s drink order on a pad and moved around the table, quietly asking the ladies whose glasses were less than half-full if they’d like another. Some did and some didn’t; when Jodi had completed the table she headed for the safety of the kitchen to get their drinks. She resolved to keep her mind on that hundred-dollar bill and off of everything else.

 

The first real incident came about half an hour later, as she was setting down a drink for one woman and another pulled down her underwear from behind… all the way to her knees, giving the table a perfect show. Jodi set her tray down and hastily pulled them back up, flush with embarrassment. The woman grabbed her wrist as she did, pulling her close. “Leave them off. From now on.” came the admonishment, in the same tone Sylvia used on her earlier. Jodi didn’t know what to do, but continued pulling her panties up. The woman grabbed them by the back and yanked down hard, ripping them out of her hands, tearing the waistband as she did. The panties, now ruined, wouldn’t have stayed up now anyway. The rest of the ladies at the table looked on in innocent amusement, smiling secretly at each other as this little contest of wills played out.

 

“Give them to me.” The woman glared at her as Jodi was forced to make her choice. She could either run away screaming out the door, attack this woman… or simply surrender her panties and face a whole evening of bare-assed cocktail service in front of all the other women. The idea that this humiliation might be just part of the show was not lost on her; she looked around the room and was suddenly aware that the entire assembled party had gone nearly silent, expectantly waiting to see what would happen next over at table number four. Suddenly Jodi felt very dirty, worse than if she were at a bachelor party in front of a bunch of drunken, leering men. However, the money she made from Sylvia’s little gigs was irresistible, so she made her decision… her face burning with shame as she stepped gingerly out of the panties, picked them up with the toe of her shoe and handed them over to the woman. Victorious, the woman simply stuffed them casually into her purse, looked triumphantly around the table, then innocently resumed eating her chef’s salad while Jodi stood there fuming. The other women in the room drew in a breath as she pulled her panties off, watching each other expectantly to see if it were suitable to applaud, then abruptly returned to their own meals. The whole spectacle had been a big joke on her, but if it wasn’t her standing there it would be some other college hussy who’d walk out of there with a wad of hundred dollar bills. Her hundred dollar bills.

 

Jodi spent the rest of the evening in abject humiliation, working the tables as before sans underwear, well aware that she was being watched from all angles. The women watched their nude servant appreciatively, savoring her the same way they did their beef Wellington and Cristal. At least the tips went up after that; each time she brought a new drink she was handsomely rewarded with a hundred-dollar bill, a fifty or at least a twenty. She stuffed the bills in her purse, which at one point in the evening she’d moved from the bedroom and stashed in a kitchen drawer, on each return trip watching the stash grow each time she returned with more bills. The gold locket winked at her each time she returned; eventually she got so busy working that she failed to notice on her last trip that it was gone.

 

Returning to the kitchen for drinks turned out to be the worst part, exposed that way in front of the staff. If Jodi had been a regular drink waitress, she’d have made it a point to meet them all and find out where the party would be afterward. In this peculiar situation, the staff hushed their conversations each time she returned; she could only imagine what they were saying about her, the house ‘entertainment’ for a group of spoiled wives. Possibly the same things she was thinking about herself.

 

Other than being stripped naked and humiliated in front of fifty aristocratic, spoiled doctors’ wives, Jodi really hadn’t been expected to do much else. The bulk of the cocktails were brought regularly by other staff members specifically working that job, the water and other beverages were filled by a “real” wait-staff girl (who, working for the caterer’s, had much more to wear than Jodi). Jodi continued to circulate through the room, anxious to stay away from that one woman but afraid to avoid her table entirely for fear of drawing further abuse from the others at that table. After that one incident, however, they were as genteel to her as ever, tipping her after each round with exaggerated generosity.

 

Eventually the party wound down and the women left, bidding each other goodbye with faux European two-cheek kisses and paying no other attention to her. Jodi stood by awkwardly with her drink tray and patiently waited for them to depart, ready to put her clothes on and get out of there.

 

The last guest left and Sylvia shut the door, turning on her. Her enduring expression of kindness, reserved for the guests, melted away; she was dealing with the same Sylvia who’d slapped her now. “There is just one more thing, sweetheart: I know all about the locket. And now you’re going to be punished for stealing it.” With that she stepped forwarded and seized Jodi’s wrist, gripping it tightly as she dragged her out of the room.

 

Jodi’s heart leaped to her throat.

 

Sylvia took her by one wrist and grabbed her ponytail by the other, as she marched her briskly out of the foyer, past the stunned wait staff in the living room. Instead of being led to kitchen to call and wait for the police as Jodi expected, Sylvia instead steered her toward the basement stairs. Too late, Jodi tried to grab hold of the doorframe on the way down but Sylvia was just too strong for her. The doctor’s wife just dragged her down the basement stairs like a rag doll, into the darkness without saying a word. For a rich bitch she was remarkably strong.

 

Sylvia marched Jodi over to the corner of the basement; Jodi felt the carpet under her feet give way to hard concrete. Her eyes began to adjust to the light and she saw huge water heaters and a tentacled metal cube that was probably the furnace. Finally Sylvia put her hands on the girl’s shoulders and forced Jodi to her knees, saying only: “Hands.” Jodi looked up quizzically at her, having no idea what she meant; her mind raced. Her heart pounded; her adrenalin-charged muscles quivered.

 

Seemingly out of nowhere, another figure emerged from the darkness; Jodi recognized the woman from the party who had pulled down her underwear. She sauntered up and stood before Jodi, then leaned over and took Jodi by her chin. “So, it’s a little thief, is it?” she asked, staring mercilessly into Jodi’s eyes. “I think with a locket that valuable, it’s surely a felony… isn’t that right Sylvia?” she asked casually, smiling a little up at Sylvia, in a very condescending tone as if speaking to a child.

 

Jodi tried as hard as she could to get up, but Sylvia snatched a handful of her hair from the back, pulling down hard enough to take the fight right out of her. Jodi tried as hard as she could to get away, throwing herself to the left or right, but each time one or the other woman was able to corral her and put her back down.

 

In the end they overcame her easily, working together with one woman forcing her down by a handful of her hair, the other pressing down on her shoulders. Sylvia jerked Jodi’s head up, the other woman commanding her simply to “Open.” Jodi fought for another minute, then finally relented and opened her mouth; the woman stuffed her cheeks with a wad of cloth, pressing in with her hand. Jodi felt herself nearly choke as those long, manicured fingernails jammed the cloth deep into her mouth. Had the light been on she might have recognized exactly what was going in her mouth. “Bite,” the other woman said, and Jodi did. “Hands,” Sylvia commanded sternly, lifting Jodi’s wrists up and flattening her palms out for her, posing the girl as if she were holding an invisible serving tray.

 

Sylvia let go of her wrists and took out a long strip of cloth— which must have recently been removed from one of the straps from the cooks’ aprons— and doubled it over both of her fists. She pulled the strip between Jodi’s teeth and wrapped it once around her head, pulling it tight and cramming the cloth into her mouth. Her strong hands held it there secure, pulling hard like the reins on a horse and forcing Jodi’s head back. Jodi fought back the urge to choke, biting down hard on the strap and pushing her tongue up against the wad of cloth packing her mouth. She looked up at Sylvia, her eyes wide and sparkling, then down her nose at the other woman.

 

Jodi did as she was told and kept her hands up obediently, watching with horror as the other woman pulled out a long, flexible wand of some kind and whickered it through the air… obviously practicing, warming up before doing something to Jodi with it that was sure to be very painful indeed. Jodi’s heart pounded; she’d never faced anything like this before. It seemed surreal, like a bad dream. Jodi had never been put through any type of corporal punishment in her life, and here she was… kneeling on Sylvia’s cold basement floor, about to receive what was surely going to be a very painful punishment.

 

 The woman finished a few practice strokes with the wand through the air, then put her finger over the other end of it and slowly bowed the wand that way between her hands. She looked down at Jodi menacingly. “That locket was Sylvia’s grandmother’s. You’re about to get a lesson in respect for other peoples’ property. You can either hold out your palms for twenty strokes…” she said, waving the wand. “Or we can summon the police, whom I’m sure would be interested to learn about your little ‘activities’ here in this house. Isn’t that right, Sylvia?” The women paused, obviously waiting for some response from Jodi. She kept her hands up, indicating that she would submit to the beating… also knowing that women as rich as these surely had connections with the police as it was. Her eyes darted from Sylvia to the other woman, nervously aware that cops aside, having her palms beaten with that little wand was going to be very unpleasant.

 

Finally, the woman reached in her pocket and pulled out the locket, its golden chain sparkling in the dim light as she briefly dangled it before Jodi’s eyes, after which she fastened it carefully around Jodi’s neck. They made her sit that way for a few minutes, gagged and perched with her waiting palms outstretched, as the woman before her prepared to deliver the beating.

 

There in the basement, with the dim light of the outdoor security light streaming in the window, Jodi received twenty strokes across her palms, just as Sylvia had promised, from that thin little switch. The wand whickered viciously through the air, coming down on her soft palms over and over again, followed each time by a muffled scream from Jodi. Whatever the wand was made of burned like fire coming down on her hands, worse with each stroke, as the woman delivering her pain stepped gracefully around her, whipping it expertly up and down on the girl’s outstretched palms. She raised welt after welt across her hands, patiently waiting for her to recover and lift them back up before coming down with the next stroke. She seemed to know exactly when to hit her, catching her off-guard every time. Sylvia stood behind her all the while, pulling down hard on the strip of cloth in her mouth, holding Jodi’s head back and pinning her legs together between her feet.

 

The whipping seemed to go on and on, her muffled cries growing louder toward the end. The walls echoed the last few strokes as she screamed out, trying desperately to keep her hands up for the strokes. Finally she reached twenty and they released her. Realizing it was over she put her head down and cried softly to herself, slowly drawing her beaten palms into her chest as she did. The loose apron strap dangled from her neck; she kept the cloth in her mouth, afraid to spit it out yet. She sat that way for a few minutes, the locket swinging from her neck as she sobbed, while the women stood over her and exchanged satisfied glances with each other.

 

After a short time the women each took her up by an arm and abruptly stood her up. They walked her that way to the side door of the basement, which was beautifully finished on the other side of the stairs. Unceremoniously they marched her out the side door into the night, giving her a final push out into the side lawn. She nearly stumbled, trying to get her footing in the soft grass in her high heels. Sylvia tossed Jodi’s purse at her, which fell in the wet grass. Still wearing only her stockings and bra, she turned without a word and made her way to her car out front, gingerly picking up her purse with her fingertips as she was unable to grasp anything in her hands… nor would she be able to for quite some time. She realized in her daze that she still held the wad of cloth in her mouth, but dared not spit it out on the lawn, fearful of what the penalty might be around there for littering.

 

Sylvia, obviously not having forgotten the earlier confrontation, called over her shoulder as she made her way up the side yard to the driveway, “Next time, you’ll be wearing even less.” 

 

Jodi broke into a run as she hurried down the deserted driveway and along the sidewalk to her car, her tall heels clicking on the pavement as she went. She fumbled her keys out of her purse and unwound the loose apron strap from around her head, spitting the rag out on the front seat as soon as she had the door open. When the dome light came on, she realized with horror that the cloth had been the black silk panties in her mouth all along, the same panties that had been stripped from her earlier in the evening.

 

She got in the car, put on her seatbelt and dumped her purse out on the passenger seat; all told, she’d cleared almost six thousand dollars for that little gig. Looking up, Jodi caught sight of her reflection in the rear view mirror; the little gold locket still hung from her neck; apparently, it was just another gift from Sylvia at this point... what once was stolen now paid for in full. She made a note to herself to fling it out the window when she got far enough away from the house. She left the money there in a pile, crying hysterically for a few minutes. Once her tears had stopped coming she started her car, put it in gear and steered for her apartment— driving gingerly, using only her fingertips and the sides of her beaten hands— swearing to herself that she’d never see these people again.

 

However, she knew full well she’d be back, which was possibly the most upsetting thing of all.