Kava-Naughty Pt. 04

As a now howling crowd watched what was left of her shrinking skirt continue to disappear, Danielle's ordinarily facile mind whirled into overdrive.

"How can this be happening," the distressed diva wondered as she attempted futilely to grab at the long thread that continued to escape her incredibly fit form while simultaneously slapping back the balloons that continued to pummel her. "And how can all these people be looking at me in my . . . oh my God . . . "

No sooner had the ordinarily officious beauty remembered with horror the incredibly sexy underwear she so naughtily chose to wear that morning under her full length, skin tight Alexander Macqueen pencil skirt than did the last wisp of fabric from that skirt disappear into the still whirring fan leaving the entire audience with a most mouthwatering view. For in that moment, as Rachel Miras and Emily Duncan looked on with delight, the imperious diva who just moments before -- dressed to the nines -- had humiliated the school's headmaster, cowed its raucous 18-year-old senior student body and shamed the senior class Georgetown Visitation cheerleaders, was replaced by a shell-shocked, mouth-wateringly sexy MILF, wearing naught but a towering pair of black leather Prada heels, a tight, black, long-sleeved, cashmere Balenciaga sweater, and a pair of Bracli London panties that could only be described as scandalous.

Wrapped around Mrs. Parnell's perfect ass and hips was a spectacularly sexy Leavers lace creation that, from the front - particularly insofar as some of it was still covered by her sweater -- presented as a very sheer silk triangle that was held up by two parallel lace bands wrapping around her taught waist toward her bottom. From the back, however, and now on display to the likes of Calum Duncan, Brett Kavanaugh, her son Will and the euphoric Rachel and Emily, the true naughtiness of the Bracli creation could be seen in the double strand of pearls that bisected Danielle's perfectly formed posterior for the purpose of providing her secret stimulation as she daily lorded her beauty and sophistication over others. Well, it was secret no more.

"Mom . . .," Will Parnell croaked, unable to take his eyes off his own mother's perfectly sculpted ass as his pubescent manhood raged against his perfectly pressed khaki trousers, "what are you wearing???"

"Oh my God," Danielle silently screamed, "Will . . . and Calum . . . and Justice Kavanaugh . . . they are all staring at me . . . in my panties . . . and . . . what's that bulge in Will's pants?!?!

Justice Brett Kavanaugh knew he had to get off this stage. Although he was transfixed by the scene in front of him - and loving every second of this pompous woman's undoing - his own recent past had involved more than enough insalubrious adventures and any sign of him here would only reignite the fire of that controversy. Grateful that the fullness of his robe provided cover for his own personal excitement, and with a scowl on his face to show to the audience his complete disapproval of the unfolding fiasco, the now third-newest member of the United States Supreme Court stood up forcefully to retreat to safety. Unfortunately for the departing dignitary, his path was blocked by a guffawing Calum Duncan who, witnessing the ongoing disgrace of a half-naked Mrs. Parnell and her stunned son Will, didn't see the angered attorney approaching.

"Out of my way young man," Brett Kavanaugh barked while firmly pushing young Duncan aside, "I want no part of this disgraceful debauchery."

"I don't think so," Calum Duncan thought to himself as the very many who was the subject of his earlier altercation with Will Parnell now pushed past him robes aflutter.

Unable to give the rude Republican the shove back he deserved, Calum instead jumped with all his weight onto the tail of the good Justice's robe that trailed behind him as he left. Although Neil Armstrong placing his foot on the surface of the moon may have been "one small step for man," Calum Duncan's present effort would soon come to be known within the halls of Gonzaga High School as a "giant leap for mankind."

As young Mr. Duncan placed all his force on the jetting jurist's robes a cascade of events began that could only be described as spectacularly funny if completely unexpected. As Brett Kavanaugh continued to make his way past a knock-kneed and cowering Danielle Parnell, a loud RIIIIIIIIPPPPPPP! announced the separation of his black judge's robe from his body. To everyone's shock, however, Associate Justice Brett Kavanaugh was left not in a suit and tie - the telltale uniform of almost every male lawyer in Washington, DC - but rather in only his shoes, dark socks, sock garters and a pair of white cotton boxers across the back of which in blue block letters were written the words "Go Prep - Beat Gonzaga."

"Oh no," he thought to himself as he began to topple forward toward a now even more mortified Danielle Marie Parnell, "I can't believe I let Squee and Tobin convince me to wear this under my robes . . . I'm finished."

Reaching out for something to break his fall, Brett Kavanaugh's flailing hands grabbed the first thing that they could - the crewneck of Danielle's tight fitting, cashmere, long sleeved Balenciaga sweater. The fashionable garment stood no chance under the weight of the collapsing conservative and - to the delight of everyone watching but Mrs. Parnell and her son - was torn completely from the delicious body of the Will's mortified mom. The resulting scene, Brett Kavanaugh on all fours in just his boxers, shoes, and socks, with his face mere inches from the perfect ass of Danielle who now stood in only her towering high heels, Bracli London panties and matching Bracli London bra, caused the crowd to go wilder still. The women in it could not believe their good fortune in seeing the well-deserved comeuppance of one of the school's most sanctimonious mothers. Men in the meantime were transfixed by the embarrassed beauty's dance of shame as she tried with one hand to cover up her spectacularly formed bottom and with the other to shield her magnificent breasts as they stretched to its limit her barely there bra.

As pandemonium reigned on stage, Adam Sanin - the 18-year-old senior who had warned the nearly naked MILF who was now frozen in place not to walk across Gonzaga school seal - was about to fail in his struggle to keep the living embodiment of that seal, Claude the eagle, calm.

"Claude," the startled senior shouted as the large bird took flight toward the mayhem on stage, "come back!"

But it was too late, with a wingspan of nearly eight feet, the colossal bird of prey angrily made its way toward the stage.

"Mrs. Parnell . . . Justice Kavanaugh," Dr. Bloom cried out instinctively as Claude approached in full winged fury, "look out!"

But the headmaster's warning came too late and within an instant the Claude's talons had seized upon the ridiculous boxer shorts of the now fully humiliated judge and his beak had torn from the perfect body of Danielle Marie Parnell the sexy bra that was all that stood between the eyes of the appreciative audience and her baseball sized breasts.

At this point - with balloons flying, wind blowing, smoke rising and shocked shouts of "daddy" from Justice Kavanaugh's 18-year-old gob-smacked cheerleading daughter and "mommy" from the Priapic Will Parnell - two secret service agents swooped in to save their nearly-naked neo-con charge from any further indignity. In the meantime, as a completely mortified Mrs. Parnell - now only in her towering high heels and pearl-thonged panties -- teetered for dear life down the stage's front stairs and through the thrilled throng of teachers and parents alike, a steely-eyed Sister Beatrice Sadlier, with her gaze clearly darting between the mortified mother and the still circling Claude, lifted from the seat behind her a large CODA all-purpose net gun.

"But Sister," a shocked Adam Sanin implored, stunned by the ease with which the frail nun had lifted the powerful weapon the purpose of which was to capture Claude in the event his "flight" went off script, "Claude hasn't done anything wrong . . . I think I can get him to come back to his crate without the net."

"Oh, this isn't for Claude young man . . . he'll be just fine," the petite old Papist said with more than a glint of glee in her clear blue eyes as she trained them upon the fleeing Mrs. Parnell, "I'm off to bag myself a peacock!"

As Sister Beatrice set off on her hunt, Danielle was attempting to make her way across the open gym floor where only minutes earlier she had imperiously strode with her typical arrogance. But this time, instead of her holding out bejeweled hand to stop the 18-year-old senior Georgetown Visitation cheerleaders in mid-routine, it was Mrs. Parnell who found her retreat blocked by their captain Sharon Miras who was eager for a little payback.

"Not so haughty now are you lady," the young woman smiled as - hands on hips - she placed herself squarely between the mortified mother of three and her avenue of escape into the halls of Gonzaga.

Now terrified by the smaller, younger woman, Danielle, with her eyes as big as saucers and a daffy look on her once arrogant face, couldn't even manage a reply. It was only instinct that caused her to cover her bare breasts with her perfectly manicured hands.

Thrilled to press her advantage over the mother of her former boyfriend, Sharon Miras used the terrified tease's very own words against her.

"Who is the one gyrating half-dressed . . . or should I say undressed . . . in front of a roomful of testosterone charged men now Danielle," she mocked.

"And are you just going to stand there and have this little girl tell you what to do" the charged-up 18-year-old cheerleader continued, "or is there something you'd like to do about it. Well? I didn't think so."

Danielle was too tongue-tied to respond. How could this little 18-year-old trollop be humiliating her . . . her . . . and in front of all these people. Had a hand just grabbed her bottom? Where was Will? And had Justice Kavanaugh been stripped too?

"Stop . . . stop . . . stop picking on me," the cowering counselor screamed incoherently as she took off as fast of her high heeled shoes would carry her - with hundreds of guffawing men and women in tow - while endeavoring to cover her perfect ass with one hand and her bouncing breasts with the other.

"Will . . .," Danielle implored as she began a sprint from the long hall that lead away from the gym and back toward the school's front lobby, "help mommy . . !"

But Will Parnell wasn't in any condition to help his mortified mom. Despite his own embarrassment at his bossy show-off of a mother being stripped nearly naked in front of his classmates, Will loved that -- for once -- she was the one made to look stupid. Unfortunately, the excitement of those conflicted feelings combined with his raging teenage hormones, left him somewhat indisposed back on stage with a large dark stain now gracing the lap of his khakis. It also didn't help that he had brought the situation on himself.

"You stop right there, young lady," came the authoritative voice of Sister Beatrice Justinian Sadlier who - net gun in hands - had emerged at the front of the phalanx excitedly following the fleeing Mrs. Parnell.

Despite being almost to the school's opulent foyer, which in turn would have led her through its front doors to where her fancy Bentley and escape awaited, and notwithstanding her near nudity, upon hearing the nun's entreaty Danielle Marie Parnell reverted instinctively to her imperious, supercilious self.

"Don't you dare tell me what to do you old crone," she barked as, not unlike ninety minutes or so prior, she began to trammel across the school's sacred seal.

Although the aged nun stopped dead in her tracks in response to the departing diva's cold words, it was not their rancor that caused her to pull up, but rather her decision, as she raised her rifle to her shoulder, to shut this blessed woman up once and for all. And then it happened - as Eric Bloom, Emily and Calum Duncan, Rachel and Sharon Miras and hundreds of other titillated men and women looked on - Sister Beatrice pulled the trigger on her raised rifle which, as a terrified Danielle Parnell stepped with one of her stilettos squarely onto the center of the great seal of Gonzaga College High School, caused a heavily weighted net ultimately to ensnare the sexy solicitor resulting in her to crashing down, ass first, into a disheveled heap on the ground.

"Oh, my bottom," cried the humiliated former uber-MILF as she scrambled out from under the net to hasten her departure, "what have you done to me . . ."

"It's not what I've done to you that you should be concerned about missy, it's what I'm about to do," came the voice of the now triumphant Sister Beatrice as, grabbing Danielle by the ear with one hand while taking from a guffawing Emily Duncan a folding chair with the other, she took a seat and pulled the nearly denuded diva over her knee.

"What do you think you're doing," came the plaintive cry of the distressed beauty as camera phones recorded her comeuppance for posterity, "get your hands off me."

"I'll do no such thing young lady," came the nun's pointed response as she rolled up the sleeves of her habit and took from a smiling Rachel Miras the yardstick that was offered up.

"And what I'm doing is giving you the spanking you so richly deserve," she continued.

"The way you walk around these young men in your high heels and tight clothes, look down your nose at the other mothers and faculty - and your incredible boldness - it's shameful I tell you, and now it's time you get what you so richly deserve."

And with that statement, Sister Beatrice raised the long ruler she had in her hand and began to rain spanks down on the perfect posterior of the devastated Danielle Marie Parnell.

"Ouch," the bound beauty cried, "you're hurting my bottom . . . please stop."

"Not until you apologize you little hussy," came the nun's instant reply.

"For what," croaked the broken beauty.

And that's when the floodgates opened.

"For being such a tease," offered Emily Duncan.

"And strutting around here like a diva," added Rachel Miras.

"And for being such a bad little tart," concluded Sister Beatrice as many of men in the hall tried to control - some unsuccessfully - their excitement at the domination of this woman who had so often teased and looked down upon them.

"Well," commanded the nun, as inadvertently, by catching the pearls in Danielle's naughty panties, she began to stimulate the usually supercilious socialite.

Oh my God, thought Danielle, as with each spank on her perfect bottom she became both more humiliated and more aroused until, finally, at the edge of climax and complete degradation she couldn't take it any longer.

"I am a bad little tart," the haughty hottie finally screamed, "a very bad little tease who likes to strut around in her high heels and tight clothes teasing men. Who loves to look down her nose at other women and to wear very naughty panties . . . and bras . . . Who deserves this spanking . . . and . . . who . . . "

And at that moment, as Danielle Marie Parnell experienced a head clearing orgasm on the floor in front of Sister Beatrice Justinian who had just rolled her from her lap, reality set back in.

"Oh my God . . . it's true . . . I'm practically naked . . . at Gonzaga . . .," she shrieked as her son Will - who had finally pulled himself together in the gym - came running toward his mouth-wateringly sexy mother without remembering to side step the school's great seal, "somebody help me!"

"I'm coming mom," her entranced son screamed before, catching his khakis on the corner of a trophy case, he was stripped of his pants and boxers and sent reeling - manhood akimbo, into the cleft of his mother's perfect ass.

And as mother and son passed out - completely undone - Sister Beatrice could be heard saying to Emily Duncan, "now that's what I call judgment under God."