Downsizing

"You want me to do what?" Chrissie's voice squeaked with shock and incredulity. Subconsciously, her hand flipped her blonde hair away from her sparkling blue eyes as she stared at her husband, Tom.

He flushed a deep red of embarrassment as he stared at her left shoulder, not daring to make eye contact. "I know, honey. I know it's a lot to ask. But I'm desperate. I worked hard all these years to get to this position in my career. With the company downsizing, it could all vanish overnight!" He ran his fingers through his short brown hair, distraught.

"But you could get another job, couldn't you, honey?" she asked, a little hint of pleading in her voice.

"Maybe. Maybe I could get another job, but times are hard, and jobs are scarce. And I'd never be lucky enough to land a position equivalent to what I have now," he replied. He gestured around them, his hands sweeping through the air indicating their house, their cars, their very lifestyle. "All this could go away. The house is heavily mortgaged... the cars are on long term leases. If we lose the house, we'll be back to living in an apartment. And not a fancy one... it would have to be one we could afford on our meager savings."

Chrissie looked horrified, imaging the loss of their... her... material possessions. But still she begged, "Please, darling. Please don't ask me to do this! I can't! I'd die of shame."

"I told you that Mr. Hopkinson, my boss, had winnowed his choice of who to terminate down to me and Carl Abernathy. So one of us will definitely be gone. But my boss took me into his private office. In a very business-like tone of voice he pointed out that he remembered you from the office's holiday party. He was struck by your beauty, and that's what prompted him to give me... us... this chance to save my job. He's offering us the chance before he'll turn and see if the Abernathy's are more willing."

"Can't we sue him or something?" she cried out. "This is tantamount to blackmail."

"If we sued him, there would be court costs. It'd be his word against mine. I doubt the court would believe my 'wild accusations' against such a prominent member of society. And then I'd be fired."

Chrissie was almost in tears now, faced with this awful dilemma. "But I've never done anything like that before! I've never had a wild streak in me!" A tiny sob escaped her lips. "Are you sure there's no other way?"

Tom felt a glimmer of hope, hearing her ask that. That no longer seemed to be a blatant refusal, more like she was starting to relent. Still, he instinctively knew she needed comforting, so he put his arms around her, letting her nestle her face against his chest and neck. Soothingly, he said softly, "I really can't see any other way, honey. And I'll be right there by your side the whole time. I'll make sure you're OK."

She murmured, "But it's such an intimate thing. I've never even let you see it." Her heart banged against her rib cage from inside as she realized that she was going to agree. That for the sake of all they had, and for their future, she was going to have to agree. Steeling her courage, she whispered, "If I do this, I'll have some conditions."

He whispered back, "Just tell me what they are, and I'll discuss them with my boss. We have an entire week to work things out."

"Let me sleep on it, and tell you in the morning," she murmured. Moving out of his embrace, she got ready for bed, but the possible conditions flitting through her mind made it difficult for her to fall sleep.

True to her word, she was up early the next morning, groggily putting her conditions down on paper as a list. She wanted Tom to be able to take it to his boss immediately, because if the conditions were not deemed satisfactory, she and her husband would have to make completely different plans for their future. As it was, she could barely look Tom in the eye as she handed him the list.

If she had been looking, she would've seen his pupils dilate in surprise as he began reading. She turned away to begin making breakfast, so she also missed seeing him swallow hard. Moments later, that wasn't the only hard thing, as evidenced by the tent rapidly forming in his pants! He read the list carefully a second time, thinking he must still be in bed, dreaming.

As he read, he could mentally hear her voicing this:

"If I am to do this, these are my conditions...

I must be completely naked (being half dressed would feel too obscene).

I must be face up on a padded bench (I want some comfort).

I must be tied at my thighs, legs and/or ankles so I cannot close my thighs (to prevent me from being tempted).

I must have loops at my elbows keeping my upper arms at my sides, but allow my hands to reach my crotch and my tits (reason obvious).

I must be tied across my torso (so I don't sit up and make eye contact with people).

I must have a strap across my forehead (again, preventing eye contact).

No one should enter my field of view during this.

I did consider doing this blindfolded, but that would freak me out, experiencing too much unknown, I fear."

Chrissie felt he'd had plenty of time to read it, but hadn't said anything yet. "Well?" she prompted, not looking at him. "Do you think he'll agree to those conditions?"

"I..." Tom choked out, his voice sounding like he had a frog in his throat. He tried again, after clearing his throat. "I can't see him having any problems with this list." He wolfed down his breakfast, kissed her, and headed to the office.

Once he'd arrived, he knocked on his boss' door. "Ah yes, Tom. Come in and sit down. Do you have news for me?" he asked, an expectant twinkle in his eye.

Tom sat and took out Chrissie's list. "Errr... yes sir, I do. Chrissie is considering it, but she made a list of conditions." He proffered the list. "Here is what she wants."

Mr. Hopkinson looked stern and mildly displeased as he heard 'conditions' being mentioned. But as he started reading the list, his expression changed to one mixing surprise with pleasure. "Holy shit, Tom! Really? She wants this? This is the... hottest... sexiest... oh my god! If she does this... This is so much better than I'd ever envisioned!" He beamed at Tom. "If she pulls this off, your job is secure, I can tell you." He handed the list back.

Settling back in his chair, he said, "You know that you and Carl are equally skilled and equally regarded, but orders from on high state I must let one of you go, much as I hate the idea." He grinned. "But you and I have more history together, which is why I offered you this chance before even approaching Carl."

"I appreciate that, Sir," Tom asserted. "So we're all set for the gathering at your place?"

"We will be, once I get a bench constructed that meets her needs. Please make a copy of that list, so I can give some specifications to a handyman friend of mine. I'll even doodle up a sketch of it."

"You can get it done that quickly?" Tom asked.

"It looks like he can start with a standard bench, and just add some padding and hardware to it, I think. Can you get me a list of your wife's dimensions - specifically the lengths of her upper arm, forearm, torso, thigh, and leg? Oh, and distance from her waist up to her forehead, I think. We'd need that information to place the hardware properly."

"I understand. I'll send you an email tonight, once I get home."

During the week, Chrissie was quite nervous. On the one hand, she wished that Saturday would never come. On the other hand, she wished that Saturday had already come and gone. She tried to distract herself with books, and television, and DVD movies. But she found she couldn't sit still. Finally, gardening allowed her to lose herself in physical activity, and that helped.

By mid-week, she'd gotten a full Brazilian waxing, which was not a new experience for her. She liked her womanhood to be smooth as silk. That always made her feel sexy, and goodness knows she needed to feel as sexy as possible for this command performance.

Saturday arrived. Only eleven hours remaining before Chrissie would learn if she had enough courage to go through with this, and save her husband's career. She was too anxious to eat very much, so she spent the time pampering herself - soaking in her tub for a while... drying herself carefully... trying different hair styles... trimming and painting her nails - anything to occupy her mind. True, she could have gone out for a professional mani/pedi but doing it herself forced her to focus. She spent hours trying on different clothes, wondering what would be best to wear.

The thought of standing there in a room full of dressed people, and stripping while they watched still twisted her stomach into knots. She just knew she'd automatically try to shyly covered her tits and pussy, which would probably cause ridicule. And even if she put her arm all the way across her tits, so her free hand could hide her pussy, the people behind her would still be staring at her bare ass!

An inspiration struck! She ran to find Tom, and ask if he thought her idea would be acceptable. She knew it would work... she just needed to see if he agreed it would be OK. Beckoning him away from the mulch he was raking, she whispered the question into his ear, not wanting any neighbors to hear it.

He grasped her by both shoulders, whispering, "Honey, that's fantastic! It'll be great, and I'm thrilled to help. He kissed her lustily, and the kiss was so wonderful that Chrissie didn't care if a neighbor saw her husband kissing her in the yard. Giggling like a naughty schoolgirl, she went back into the house after that heady kiss ended.

Problem solved, she dug the clothes out of her dresser, setting them aside. As Tom came in, she joined him in the shower, and scrubbed his back. She was still too nervous about her upcoming performance, so she didn't do anything sexual in the shower, and Tom was perceptive enough not to press the issue. He was picking up her anxious vibe, and trying hard not to add to it at all. As they dried off, he reminded her, "Honey, I'll be right by your side the whole time. I'm sure you'll do fine."

Chrissie put on the clothes she'd selected, and packed a small bag with what she'd need later. Once she had done up her hair, and applied her makeup to her satisfaction, she said, "I'm ready, dear. Well, as ready as I'll ever be." Tom was already in his business suit.

They drove to the home of his boss, arriving at the scheduled time. Mr. Hopkinson answered the door himself, and if he was taken aback by Chrissie's choice of clothing, he hid it well. After all, she wore no bra under her T-shirt, and the tiny mounds of her nipples pressed against the thin material. She also wore loose running shorts, but there was no way he could tell whether or not she had panties on under them. As a matter of fact, she didn't, and thankfully it was not her time of the month, so she didn't need a pad or a tampon.

Tom's boss took them in to introduce them to his other guests. Chrissie quickly scanned the room and her heart flip-flopped in her chest as she saw the men in their suits and the women dressed in elegant party clothes. It was just as she'd imagined and feared. If she stood there and removed her clothing, she'd be the only naked person in a sea of semi-formal elegance. Thankfully, she saw Tom whispering their amended plans to Mr. Hopkinson, so he'd not make a faux pas when he made the announcement about the performance.

And just in time.

Mr. Hopkinson tapped his glass with a spoon to get everyone's attention. When they'd quieted, he began, "You know I promised you a special event for this gathering. It's time for it to begin." He clapped his hand on Tom's shoulder. "Tom here, and his lovely wife Chrissie have volunteered to entertain us." Chrissie managed to keep from scowling when she heard the term 'volunteer' applied to her. She was still not fully confident that she could do this, but she and Tom needed to succeed. There was a murmur as he said, "Tom, if you'll help me bring in the device, we can begin."

Chrissie heard the word 'device' in the form of a question from several places around the room as the two men went into an adjoining room. They returned with the bench. It didn't have legs, being more like a rectangular wooden box that sat on the floor, so it looked very stable and sturdy as they set it down. It was indeed padded on top, and sported several large screw eyes and a couple of holes going across its length. The two men looked expectantly at Chrissie. The moment of truth had come.

Trying to keep her knees from shaking, she walked over to the bench. Her heart seemed to be thumping hard, and somehow had worked its way up into her throat. There was also a strange roaring in her ears. She wondered if people could hear that, or her heart. "Can I really go through with this?" she asked herself. "Maybe I'm dreaming... or this is just an elaborate joke?"

Tom's boss pointed toward his end of the bench. "Your head goes on this end," he said quietly.

Her heart lurched as her intestines seemed to tie themselves into knots. She reached out and touched the padding. The bench was real. This wasn't a dream. Trembling slightly, she placed herself on top of the bench, face up, with the two men helping her get into the perfect position. The murmurs of confusion from the onlookers increased in volume and frequency.

Those murmurs turned to gasps and exclamations of surprise as Tom began tying Chrissie's ankles to the proper screw eyes. He'd obviously been studying how to do this, since he was using doubled strands which held her firmly but comfortably. Next he bound her legs, and then her thighs to the bench's hardware. She tested the restraints. Her thighs were splayed open, and she could barely move her lower limbs at all.

With more doubled rope strands, Tom passed them across her torso, just below her breasts, making sure her arms stayed free. His boss passed these ropes back to him through large holes in the bench so he could knot them in place. "Lift your arms straight up, honey," he whispered to her. As she did so, he secured, with his boss' help, rope strands across her chest just above her breasts, and through her armpits. Now Chrissie found she could only lift her head, as she lowered her arms to rest on her body.

Tom now lifted a strap that looked like a seat belt. With the assistance of his boss, the strap was placed across her forehead, threaded through another pair of holes in the body of the bench, and worked through the buckle on the other end. Tom carefully pulled on the free end of the strap, snugging Chrissie's head down onto the padding. "Too loose? Too tight?" he whispered.

She tried lifting her head. "Feels good, dear," she replied. She was talking about the strap across her forehead, not the entire situation. With trepidation, she'd been mentally checking off her list of demands. Only 3 items remained, and Tom was busy anchoring her upper arms near the sides of the bench in a manner that left her forearms free to move, which was one of those items.

Mr. Hopkinson gestured to attract his guests' attention, since there was now almost a hubbub of speculation about what was going on... things like 'why is he tying her down' and 'what is happening' and 'why is she dressed like that' were flying around. People's eyes were fairly bulging as they watched. Someone whispered loudly, "Maybe it's some sort of magic trick." They gradually settled down to hear what he had to say.

"Friends, I must ask you all to come over to this end of the room where I'm standing." He was at the foot end of the bench. "Trust me, this is the vantage point you'll want to have." As they shuffled into place near but a little behind him, he gave a glance of inquiry at Tom.

"Can you see anyone now, Chrissie?" Tom whispered in her ear.

She strained a little, her eyes darting every which way. "No. They're all out of sight," she replied quietly. Then she thought to herself, "Oh my god... the only requirement left is that I must be naked!" Fear blossomed anew, and she almost wept, anticipating. Tom gave her a quick kiss, and stood up.

As he pulled out a gleaming pair of EMS scissors, there was a collective gasp from the onlookers. Effortlessly, he snipped up each T-shirt sleeve to the neck opening, before moving to stand near her right hip. Lifting the center bottom edge of Chrissie's T-shirt, he began snipping upward, slowly and carefully. When he reached the rope passing across her body below her breasts, he stopped. The watchers fell silent, spellbound, seemingly holding their collective breaths, eyes riveted. This included Tom's boss, who was not expecting this aspect of the performance. Tom grabbed the lower section of the partially severed T-shirt, one side in each hand. With a powerful sideways pull, the cloth ripped up the remaining center up to its hemmed neck. Tom snipped through that remaining barrier. With a quick pull at one lower edge, the T-shirt whisked out from under Chrissie, leaving her topless.

There was such utter silence for a moment that a person could hear a proverbial pin drop. Then a male voice cried out 'Wow!' and the spell was broken. People shuffled around to get a better look, while obediently staying on that side of the room. Virtually everyone began talking at once, the men mostly commenting on Chrissie's breasts, with the rope restraints only adding to their salacious presentation. The women were mostly speculating about how Chrissie must be feeling right now, and wondering aloud if they'd ever allow themselves to be shown like that, and being told by their friends that of course they'd look great. Chrissie was meanwhile feeling the burning heat in her cheeks, embarrassed as she imagined what they were seeing.

Getting into his role as a showman, Tom stood near Chrissie's knee and held up the scissors. When people tore their eyes away from his bound wife they noticed him waiting. Words like 'wait' and 'look' were hissed among the crowd, and they fell silent again.

When he felt he had their full attention, he lifted the bottom edge of one of the legs of her shorts. The sound of the scissors parting the cloth was clearly audible as he worked. He carefully but easily snipped up the leg and ultimately through the waistline of her shorts. His boss had moved up beside him, carefully keeping out of Chrissie's line of sight, and pantomimed a query. Tom looked thoughtful, then nodded and gestured that they should walk around the foot of the bench.

Tom kept himself in view of Chrissie as he silently handed the scissors to his boss. Mimicking what Tom had done, he carefully and gently, almost reverently snipped up the other side of her shorts. Handing the scissors back to Tom, he moved back to the foot of the bench, looking pleased for having participated. The whispers going around the room expressed mainly incredulity about what might happen next. But that step was rather inevitable.

Tom took hold of the top center section of Chrissie's shorts and, murmuring something meant to be placating, pulled down slowly, until the shorts came completely free from her body. As he stepped back, everyone in the room was able to view her hairless labia. Comments erupted. In the clash of conversations, Chrissie heard words like 'pussy', 'cunt', 'hairless', 'snatch', 'no bush', 'tasty', 'bald', 'shameless', 'obscene', 'fascinating', 'lovely', and 'slit' along with ribald suggestions of what they'd like to do with that part of her anatomy. If she'd felt embarrassed when her tits were exposed, she now felt mortified. If she hadn't been tied down, she'd have been tempted to flee from the room!

As it was, she had to endure it.

And then she remembered her assignment. To satisfy Tom's boss, she had to bring herself to orgasm as he and his guests watched. She had to masturbate for their entertainment!