A Week of Naked Humiliation Pt. 01

More than 30 years ago now, I chose naked humiliation over jail. I was a 32-year-old woman. I spent a week in a big house at the mercy of a wealthy couple, their two teenage kids, some other employees, and strangers. At the beginning I had to wear a sexy maid costume, which soon included waddling around with panties around my ankles. Then I spent days four days naked on all fours, as a family dog. I was leashed, spanked, fondled, and put on display doing doggie tricks. Afterwards I packed up and left town, telling nobody. But now I want to tell my story here.

I won. I bamboozled my boss. Because, as it turned out, I traded jail not for a punishment as much as it was safe fantasy. I don't know whether I was really aware I was an exhibitionist and I'm not even sure, years later, that I am or that I was. But I did fantasize being caught naked or being forced to go naked in front of other people. It connected to that part of my psychological makeup that goes back to being five or six years old and hiding with little friends, the same age, doing things we called "nasty," which was mostly just exposing our butts and privates to each other.

Furthermore, I was still recovering from a nasty divorce, and I was only recently proud of my body because I'd worked out some psychological issues with intense physical fitness. I loved looking at my new slimmer, sexier body in the mirror. I felt like showing off.

I did the books for a construction company, and I pocketed a couple thousand dollars in fake expenses I sent to my own account. I was 32, a Vietnam war widow, broke, depressed, and pretty stupid. A couple named Donald and his wife Melanie owned and ran the business, and, in retrospect, I think I was lucky that Melanie, not Donald, caught me. Donald, a sleazy man who was always too grabby, might have wanted sex or blow jobs in secret. Melanie, however, was going to turn me in and press charges.

I pleaded with Melanie. "Can't you just punish me here instead of sending me to the courts?"

"Like what? How?" Melanie asked.

"I don't know, maybe spank me?"

"Ha! Fat chance."

"Spank me naked?" I offered, tentatively. My mind flashed a scene in an old Disney movie. The fox finally catches the rabbit and the rabbit pleads, convincingly, "don't through me into the briar patch. As if that were the worst thing ever. The fox does throw him in the briar patch, and it turns out, as he hops away happily, that he loves being in the briar patch. I reached for the big win: a punishment that would keep me out of jail, but was also fulfilling a fantasy.

Melanie paused. "Ok, let's think about this," she said. And then: "Stand in the corner, facing the wall, pull your pants and panties down to your ankles." I did that. "I want a full view of your butt," she said, "so pull your blouse up higher." I did that too.

A short time passed in silence. Then she dialed her phone. "You need to come to my office," she told the phone, and then, with emphasis, "now!" More time passed and then Donald came in, and closed the door behind himself.

And then we negotiated my punishment. I remained standing with butt exposed, turning my head to talk. They had most of the leverage but I did repeatedly push my own agenda.

They started with having me naked for three days doing whatever I was told to do.

I moved quickly to rule out any bodily harm, serious pain, permanent markings, and anything that would bruise or mark me. That was fairly easy to win. Donald said "but you started this with spanking. There has to be spanking." And I agreed to that.

Then I said I wouldn't submit to any sex. "Not vaginal of course, but not oral or anal either," I said. I had no view of what Donald though about that, but he was quiet, while Melanie agreed. I was really glad Melanie was there.

I was on a roll. "And that means no penetration of any kind," I added. No fingers, no dildos, nothing."

David argued for cavity search, but Melanie countered with "okay but you agree to doing whatever we say, naked or not"

"But no name calling," I said. "I don't have to listen to being called bitch or slut or whore or any of that."

You will address everybody as Sir or Ma'am," she said.

"Nothing illegal either," I said. "No arrests for indecent exposure, no flashing in public places."

"You will wear whatever we tell you to wear, or nothing at all," she said. "And do whatever we tell you do. You will mop floors and clean toilets, serve meals, whatever."

"You won't make me eat anything harmful," I said. "Of course no drugs, but also no pee or scat or anything like that."

Then it was Donald. "With all of these conditions, it needs to be a week, not just three days." Melanie agreed.

So we came to terms. I agreed to me being punished in their home, not in the office, because of legal exposure (pardon the pun). I agreed to me being naked and being spanked and humiliated as long as they agreed on no sex or penetration. I agreed to abject humiliation but no whipping or pain beyond spanking, no harm or permanent marking on my body (so no tattoos). I agreed unlimited chores and housework and absolutely obeying not just the two of them but also their children and household workers.

Melanie took notes and then, when we were agreed, with me still standing with my butt out, she typed a document setting it all down, and only then had me pull my pants back up and come back to normal for the signing. The document had strict rules on confidentiality. Melanie had two other office people witness the signing and sign as witnesses, but she didn't let them read it. They just verified that we had signed it while they watched.

At that point, I felt pretty much safe with the rules, and I felt some fear and dread, but also some tingling fantasy-spurred excitement for what might follow. I was pretty sure I'd made the right choices, that I'd avoided jail and accepted just a week of punishment. I didn't even have to pay back the money. It was obvious that both Donald and Melanie liked the naked humiliation.

After everything was signed and the two witness signers left the office, Melanie told me to come to work as normal for three days, and then to appear at their home on the fourth day. I was to take a taxi so I didn't have to park a car there. And I was to bring only the clothes I was wearing, nothing else.

And so I did. On the fourth day, I arrived at the big house by taxi, on time, without even a purse, just the clothes I was wearing. I felt an excruciating mix of fear, dread, and thrill. It was a big house on a hill in a ritzy neighborhood. I was relieved to see the built-in privacy of high hedges on all sides, and that the winding driveway meant you couldn't see the front of the house from the street. It looked from the front like it had a big yard in back.

Melanie opened the front door, nodded me a greeting, then watched the taxi drive off before she told me to take off all of my clothes. She gave me a cardboard box to put them in. She told me to wait at the front door naked on all fours with my butt pointing out towards the driveway. She was busy, she said. She would be back for me in a while.

So I waited, outside on the porch, buck naked, on all fours. In a few minutes, a middle aged man I had never seen before came out from the side of the house and looked at me. I didn't look back, just stared at the front door. I heard him approach slowly and then felt him touch me, tentative at first, but then as if touching me were his privilege. He took his time. He touched me everywhere.

Then the door opened again. Melanie told the man, "Eddie, yes, this is the woman I told you was coming. It looks to me like you might be a bit too gentle." She paused for effect. "I'm going to bring her inside now, but before I do, let's set the tone right. Tweak her breasts to make them swing for a bit, and then give her a couple good hard spanks on the butt." I was excited by that, I admit, because it matched the fantasy.

And after he did that, she told me to stand up again and follow her inside. My fantasy fulfillment -- and fake punishment -- had begun.