PAWS for the Cause

In what would be his third unintended wardrobe malfunction "assist" of the evening, the colossally awkward Julian Silver, thinking he could use the shoulder straps of Mrs. Parnell's tank top to assist her to her feet, held fast to those straps as she bounded up unassisted the result of which was to tear the black ribbed garment entirely from her sexy tanned back. As the startled sexpot regained her footing amidst the hollers, whistles, catcalls, applause and, especially from the women, howling laughter -- the full weight of her predicament hit her like a ton of bricks. How did this happen? Where are my clothes? Oh my God, Will can see me in my panties! And all these people -- these nobodies -- they can see my sexy, practically naked, body. No -- this cannot be happening -- they're pointing and laughing.

And they most certainly were!

"I love the thong Cruella," taunted Rebecca Ross as she read the glittering message atop Danielle's tiny thong.

"Look at that ass," howled Katherine Wray -- more aroused on this night than she had been in her entire life.

The still stunned, mortified mother of three, with her mouth hanging open and her eyes the size of saucers, stared vacantly at the laughing crowd. But then, upon spying the "dorky" Julian Silver at her feet holding her torn shirt in his bony hands, Mrs. Parnell reared back with an open palm shouting, "you . . . little . . . spaz . . . this is all your fault . . ." But as she swung her arm at the cowering Julian's face -- Danielle's ensuing slap was suddenly and powerfully stopped by the vice-like grip that the short but sturdy Rachel Miras placed on her wrist.

"You leave that boy alone you little tease," raged the determined Mrs. Miras. "It's time that someone taught you a lesson. The only one who's going to get a spanking tonight is you!"

As the entire crowd went wild, its women cheering Rachel on as if she was a conquering heroine, the increasingly humiliated queen bee -- Danielle Marie Parnell -- tried one last time to regain control. Somewhat frantically, but with as much authority as her current situation would permit, Mrs. Parnell commanded, "let go of me this instant you fat cow. Just who do you think you are!?!"

"I'm the girl who's finally going to give you what you deserve you show-off," responded Rachel Miras without missing a beat and, as Katherine Wray handed her a white wooden folding chair from beside the runway, the stocky Mrs. Miras, after unclasping the shocked prima donna's dog-print bra from her spectacularly pert tits, pulled a startled Danielle Parnell across her lap and began paddling the sexy mom's posterior.

"That's for taking my parking spot this morning," cried out the now dominant Mrs. Miras as she spanked Danielle's taught bottom.

"And that's for making fun of Katherine," continued Rachel, bringing the pain to Mrs. Parnell as the appreciative and nearly orgasmic Katherine Wray shouted in her dulcet Southern tones, "you go girl -- give it to her good!"

"And that's for telling me I look like my dog. In fact, looking at your slutty little outfit tonight it seems you're the one who looks like a dog. Why don't you bark for me doggy," taunted Rachel Miras as she continued to redden the uber-MILF's behind.

"Please . . . no . . . not that," whispered Danielle feebly, thinking back to how she had teased her own sexy reflection with that very command only a few short hours earlier.

"I said BARK . . . LIKE . . . A . . . DOG," bellowed Rachel Miras punctuating each word of her command with an ever more forceful slap.

What happened next was, for many women in attendance that night, a high-water mark of vindication for the abuses that Mrs. Danielle Parnell had heaped upon them over the years.

"Woof," chirped the humiliated Danielle softly from the lap of Rachel Miras as the broken alpha lawyer's eyes locked with those of her son Will right before the young man passed out.

Buoyed by her success thus far, the stout Mrs. Miras continued "bad dog -- I can't hear you!!"

"I'm sorry Mistress," croaked Danielle sheepishly, "WOOF, WOOF, WOOF, WOOF." And then, as if freed by her humiliation Danielle loudly confessed, "I am a bad dog, a very, very bad dog . . . a very bad girl dog . . ."

"And what do we call a girl dog, Danni? Tell me . . . what are you," teased Rachel Miras while softly "petting" Danielle on her head.

Completely broken at this point and having slid from Rachel's lap onto the runway where, on all fours wearing only her 5" black and white spotted heels and her now soaking wet dog-print Cruella thong, Mrs. Danielle Parnell conceded what everyone already knew.

"I'm a bitch."

And as money flew at the stage in support of PAWS for the Cause, Rebecca Ross draped the winner's sash over the neck of the astonished, broken, former tease. It read simply, "Best in Show."