Slut: Exposed

The last of my guests is my neighbor, Mike. He's 30, kind of nicely built, and has a good job at Airbus, which has him coming and going from here, like most of my neighbors. He's single. He's fairly vanilla, I think, but he's also been after me to invite him. I think he just wants the thrill of seeing a kinky scene. But I didn't want him to be lonely, so I summoned a girl named Joey to be his escort for the afternoon. He's not from Mobile and spends little enough time at home that he doesn't know many women here. So my evil inner imp told Joey, a toy of mine, to be a "very sweet date" for him. She knows what I mean. She's to be "all over him" teasing, touching, and kissing. But no more unless I tell her to. Joey is a fairly petite girl who turns 19 next month. She's rather cute, too. She's sitting on Mike's lap now, her arm draped snugly around him. And Mike is smiling. I'm very sure that Mike has figured out that Joey is a toy of mine, too. Thus, he must assume that she's been told to be nice to him. But he travels a lot, and Joey wants to, so they should have plenty to talk about.

"The surprised guest of amusement will be here in about fifteen minutes." I've already filled everyone in. I'd never invite someone to a scene without making sure they knew what I was planning, and what their role would be. I've told them that she won't know a thing. That not only will this be the first time she's met me, but everything will be a very public surprise for her. She may not stay for it. Or she may. Brittney assures me that she's "deadly certain for real" that her mom will stay and enjoy it. On that, I'm less sure. But willing to find out. And I've told all of the guests that it might be a short session. Who knows if I'll find this woman amusing or not? I've also told Janelle, that should I lose interest in the woman, and Janelle wishes, she's welcome to take the woman.

Brittney wanders back to the playroom, making herself scarce for an instant. I don't want her mom to see her the instant the door is answered.

The knock comes. I send Sophie to answer the door. Then I watch from the playroom door, more peeking, as Sophie greets her politely. As always, Sophie is wearing one of the "slave dresses" I bought for her. Today it's the yellow one. They're all identical, except for the color. They're stretchy dresses, made of all-lace, that snugly hug her body from her breasts down to an inch below the bottom curve of her behind. They're fringed with a frilly white lace. But the lace hides nothing. It just makes you look a little closer to see through it. Sophie doesn't get underwear, nor a bra, to wear with it. Just matching fingerless lace gloves. A plush horseshoe clip to hold her long honey-blond hair back from her eyes. And a pair of knee-high boots with sides of a stiff lace and spiked heels that match the dress. And naturally, the frilly collar that never comes off her neck.

Sophie invites her to step inside while she "tries to find Miss Brittney" for her. The woman steps in, a little hesitantly. I'm guessing that's from Sophie's very sexy, and equally slutty, outfit. Everyone else in here is dressed like "regular folks" Jeans and t-shirts are a popular outfit. And no one is paying her any attention. They're all chatting away, munching on the delicious, meatless, kosher nachos Paige made. And watching the after game show on TV.

The woman's eyes scan the room, taking in all the sights. In the living room, there's little for her to notice. It's a vanilla living room. She can't see into the kitchen where Paige slaves away. Paige is in her usual attire, too. She's wearing her pink dog collar, a less fancy one that Sophie has to remind her of her lesser status here. And she's wearing her leg irons. She always wears those in the house. I actually think she'd be disappointed if I didn't have her chained. But otherwise, Paige is nude. She always is. I don't allow her to wear any clothes in the house, no matter what. Only when she leaves, and then she dresses and undresses right at the door. Now that would give something away.

But it's my cue. I can't leave her to wait too long, or she'll start wondering where Brittney is and why she's stalling. So I walk out and straight up to the woman. "You must be Rita, Brittney's mom," I greet her. "I'm Miss Rodgers. I hear that you're a big fan of my little stories."

Rita blushes to a very deep beet red. "I... Uh... You're... HER? I... Uh..." Rita stutters as she tries to say something.

I reach a hand up behind my back and wiggle a signal for Brittney to make her entrance. I'm not worried about Brittney missing it. I told Sophie to watch for it and make sure Brittney came on cue. "My slave, 'Sophie' in my stories, has gone to fetch your daughter. I do appreciate the comments you've sent me on my stories."

Rita blushes even more. And she starts fidgeting very lightly. It's as if she's utterly embarrassed that all of these people, many of whom have been at least tangentially in those stories, are hearing that she's a fan. As if she didn't want anyone to know.

"I figured, since it's clear from your emails that you so obviously wanted to meet me, I'd introduce myself." I'm grinning widely.

Brittney walks up behind me. "Hi, mom..." She greets Rita less than enthusiastically.

I ignore Brittney for a second. I reach out and take hold of Rita's hand. She doesn't stop me. Her arm is limp and loose as if she's stunned. But I can also feel the slightest little quiver in it. "Come with me, Rita," I tell her. I start walking, slowly leading Rita by the hand. Her feet begin to move, more shuffling over the floor than walking, as she dumbly follows.

"B... But... Brit..." Rita stutters again.

"Hush," I tell her in a rather firm voice. But I don't raise my voice. I don't even scold her yet. I'm just firm. "Don't you worry about a thing!" I tell her just as firmly.

I glance over to Brittney. "I think skanky has more nachos in the kitchen if you want. Mom will be a minute."

"Uh, like, okay..." Brittney answers, feigning surprise. It's not exactly an academy award-winning act, either. I'd bet Rita is the only one in the room who doesn't catch on. But right now, Rita is too stunned to notice much.

I have a little place ready for her. Sophie set it up a few minutes ago, once we knew Rita was on her way. It's not big, maybe just six feet square. But it's at the front of the room, just beside the TV. It's a place where all attention will be on Rita. As I lead her over there, the conversation continues as if, so far, no one is paying any attention to Rita.

I'm giving Rita an unspoken choice. No one is stopping her from leaving. But I'm not suggesting she might want to, either. I'm simply telling her what to do and leading her along. And so far, Rita is submissively allowing me to lead her along.

I bring Rita up to the front of the room. Brittney vanishes to the kitchen. I figured that Brittney's presence, at least the first moments, would jolt Rita to think about her. And that might send Rita running. Brittney didn't argue, either. She might want to help her mom out and get me to see her, but she's not so eager to actually see it. I haven't told her what she's going to see. But if she doesn't leave very soon, she's going to see something if Rita doesn't run. And Rita's not running so far.

I stand Rita in the middle of the little empty place. Then I quickly turn and face her, not giving Rita any time to think about anything. "Do you know what the best thing about writers is? We're great at reading between the lines. Even on emails. See, I know that you've been a very naughty girl. You've been playing with yourself while you read my stories! And you didn't even bother to ask me if you could diddle yourself to my stories. That clearly deserves a spanking!"

I see an obvious tremor sweep over Rita. She fidgets harder now, too. And her face scrunches up slightly as if she's about to cry.

"I..." Rita begins to stutter something else.

"Hush!" I tell her again in my firm voice. "There's nothing for you to say. You deserve a spanking. And now, you're going to get it. Take your clothes off."

"Here?" Rita manages to blurt out a coherent word. "Now? Everyone is watching me!" Her voice is muted and shy. She blushes as red as ever. And she trembles lightly on her feet.

"If you can't do the spanking, don't do the naughtiness." I teasingly tell her. Unlike Rita, I'm not quieting my voice. The room can hear what I'm saying.

"Please, Miss Rodgers!" Rita blurts out with a very humiliated panic in her voice. "Please, don't make undress in front of everyone! I'll take my spanking, just please, not like this! Please, not in front of everyone!"

"Hush!" I scold her firmly. "You don't want to be spanked more for not taking your spanking like a big slut, do you? Do not make me tell you again. Do not speak. Take your clothes off. Now." I glare at Rita with cold, firm eyes.

Rita stands mute. She stands frozen for a few seconds. I see her eyes moisten up. And then, her hands trembling badly, Rita kicks her shoes off. She leaves them where they fall, on the floor.

"Rita. You know better than that. Pick those shoes up and hand them over politely. You'll take care of your things here, not leave them in a heap like some slob."

"I'm sorry, Ma'am..." Rita says, her voice muted almost to silence and breaking with a light sob. She also squats down and grabs her shoes. Then, her trembling fingers drop them, making her pick them up again. This time she manages to stand up with them. She holds them in one hand. A hand that's trembling so badly that her shoes are shaking.

She says nothing. "You've read this countless times, Rita. Do it right."

Rita fumbles badly. It's not the easiest thing to get something up atop upturned and flat palms. Her unsteady hands just make that much harder for her. She finally gets them up. She holds her hands out in front of her chest. It's very close to where those hands should be. Six inches out, and even with, the tips of her nipples. "Here are my shoes, Ma'am." Rita offers them to me in her hushed, embarrassed, voice.

It tells me something. Rita has definitely read my stories. And she's paid close attention to them. She knows, without my telling her, what I expect her to do and say. It's the same thing a number of subs have done in those stories.

I wiggle a finger. Sophie slips up beside me and takes the shoes from Rita. Sophie steps back and starts a pile of Rita's things on a little folding table. They won't be there for long, but Rita doesn't know that.

Rita squats back down and awkwardly pushes her socks off her feet with fumbling hands. She picks them up, folds their tops together, and offers them to me. I have Sophie get them.

Rita must know that I expect her to take everything off. I always do. She starts fumbling to take her jewelry off. It's just her little stall. A way to put off the moment where she's going to have to start showing more of her body. Her fumbling fingers slow her down.

Finally, Rita runs out of clothes to stall with. Her outfit today is a pair of slightly-snug-fitting jeans that are a very light shade of pink. Above that, I can see a black and white print pull-over blouse with long sleeves. I'll assume that she has underwear on as well. It's a rather casual, everyday outfit. I bet, if she had the slightest clue where Brittney was, she would have changed before she came here.

I see the first tear run down her cheek. I bet her blush would deepen as well if it wasn't already so deep. Her fingers fumble with the bottom hem of her blouse. They refuse to grip it. They lose their grip three times, and none of those times does she get it more than a fraction of an inch up.

Finally, she gets it up, pulling the blouse over her head. She tries to be sneaky, holding her blouse out in front of her as she turns it back right-side-out, straightens it, and folds it up. She holds it where it just miraculously manages to be in the sightline from the sofas to her bra. Isn't that so shyly creative? I let her get away with that.

It bares a rather cute hot pink bra. It's a lace-trimmed bra with ¾ cups that leave a fair slice of her ample cleavage exposed. It has a fine strap between the cups, decorated with a cute ribbon bow. But like most larger-sized bras, it has a fairly wide strap around her back with three clips. It's a fairly sexy bra, too. Its cups are like triangles that taper as they flow up into lace straps over her shoulders. It looks good on her.

Everyone is trying their best to act nonchalant. As if they're barely noticing the woman stripping in front of them. The guys aren't doing as well at it as the girls are. I can see their eyes flashing up frequently to glimpse Rita's chest, even with the cute bra still covering her breasts.

Rita reaches for the waistband of her pants, putting off baring her breasts for another moment. The command I gave her was to take her clothes off. It's a command I don't give often. It tells a sub to get those clothes off but I don't care in what order they come off. I used it now because I didn't know how closely Rita paid attention to my stories. Whether she knew the commands I use or not. With this command, it won't matter what she takes off when. She'll still be following the right order. And she won't get scolded. One look at her nervous, shaky body is all I need to know that Rita does not need anything that would lessen her self-confidence now. It's taking all she has just to undress.

Rita slips her pants down. She folds them the same way, fumbling and stalling as she uses them to block the sightline of her body. It reveals a matching pair of lacy panties. They're not the most modest of panties either. They're high cut, with a long V in front that rises up to a narrow waistband that circles over her hips. In the back, they cover about half of her bottom. A bottom I can already see is going to be fairly shapely. They're hot pink as well, matching her bra.

I've noticed that her wardrobe today is up to my dress code. The dress code that I insist my toys follow. It's mention in some stories, and the full version of it is on my website. It could very easily be a coincidence. Or it could be something Rita has looked at and decided that she'd follow on her own. It's not that demanding. The only thing I'm sure about is that she didn't know she'd be coming here or meeting me today.

Her hands reach up slowly behind her back. They fumble badly with the clasp of her bra. Another tear rolls down her cheek. "Please, Miss Rodgers, I'm begging you! Please, I'll strip, just please, may I please at least be allowed to turn around? Please! You can still me, Ma'am!" Rita's voice is pure pleading, sobbing, begging, and muted to almost silence.

"That's one more stroke," I tell her firmly, my eyes hard as they stay locked on her.

Rita sobs, once, and loudly. Then I see the strap of her bra fall to her sides. I see her arms trembling hard, and unsteadily, as her hands slip the lacy straps from her shoulders. And then her bra is off. She tries hard to cover her breasts and block the sight of them for as long as she can, as she folds her bra up. But she doesn't actually cover them. Just hinders the sight of them.

Rita stands about 5'6", as Brittney told me she does. She's also fairly lean. I'd guess she's somewhere around 140 pounds. It's enough weight that I don't see any of the lines of her bones at her shoulders. But no more than it takes to round her body out. It leaves her with a decent curve at her waist. It gives her hips enough roundness that it hides her hip bones but leaves the sides of her hips with a slight straightness to them and only the gentlest of curves. It gives her a flat stomach. And it leaves her with legs that are just full enough to have a nice shape to them while still looking slim and lean.

Rita's face is decently oval in shape with a defined jawline that has rounded, soft features to it. She has fine, platinum blond hair, but I can make out a bit of darkness close at the roots, too. I'd bet on the blond being out of a bottle. Her hair is fairly short, and straight, hanging down onto the tops of her shoulder blades. It has little body, staying close to her head and hanging straight. She has some bright green eyes to go with it. Her nose is slightly on the short side, its well-rounded features giving it a look of being a bit wide. A long, wide, mouth framed with a pair of light pink, decently fine, and soft lips round out her face.

I'd guess that the bra she just handed to Sophie is a size 36-D. I might be off, but not by much. And now that they're bare, I can see that Rita's mounds are soft. They lie back against her chest with a deep crease at the underside. They look as if they'll have the loose, soft feel of water balloons, but they're also nicely rounded as they hang on her chest. Especially at the front, where they're almost fully, and gently, rounded. They have a deep V of cleavage between them, too. And they're topped with a pair of rather wide rings of a faint pinkness. From the center of each huge ring, an equally light colored nipple rises. Her nipples are as wide as marbles. They stand up enough to stick out noticeably, but aren't what I'd call long. They have well-rounded tips, the rounding flowing into the short sides of them. It makes her nipples have a slightly pointy look, more so atop those softly rounded mounds. And now, as Rita cringes in shame and horror, those nipples are as hard as rocks.

Rita sobs again as her hands go to her hips. She takes her time, fumbling badly, and stalling more openly, as she pushes them off her hips. Then they're flying, dropped free, down her slim legs to her ankles. She bends over quickly, not even thinking about the view she's giving us of her bouncing breasts as she does, to grab them. Then she stands up and stalls as long as she can while folding them up. She offers them to me.

I have Sophie take them. She does. Rita is too busy cringing to notice as Sophie grabs the rest of her clothes and hurries off with them. Sophie will lock them in a drawer of the file cabinet. Only I have a key to unlock those drawers. Rita won't be getting her clothes back until I decide to give them to her. I only wonder how long it will take Rita to realize that her clothes have vanished, leaving her nothing. Just standing naked in front of this diverse crowd of strangers.

It lets me see that Rita has flat pubes that are shaven smooth. Freshly shaven, without a hint of stubble on them. Another point from my standards for toys. It lets me see that she has long lips on the modestly puffy mound of her pussy. Lips that are plush and slightly thick, but also narrow. It leaves a wide gash between them. It's enough of a gash that the edges of her light pink, purple-tinged, inner folds poke out in all their wrinkles.

I was right about her bottom, too. As she stands, her cheeks are nicely rounded in both directions. Their front has a flatness to them that's so fine I can barely make it out. They have just enough fullness to them that I know they're going to have a spongy feel to them. Her cheeks meet fully, too, their inside edges lying flush against each other to make a longish, deep crack. They also have enough definition to their muscles that her globes have a nice long curve at their bottoms. And it doesn't sag a bit.

Chapter 02: Revealing The Depths Of Slutiness

Rita, Brittney told me, is 42. Now that I have a good and very complete look at her, I'd say Rita could be 42. She could pass for her late 30s, just as easily, too. I have to firmly remind Rita to stand properly. With her hands behind her, where they won't interfere with everyone having a full view of her nakedness. And holding her head up to face her audience, not hanging her head in shame.

Now that Rita is fully naked, the guys are gawking at her body. Then again, they're guys, and there is a pussy on display for them. This is also Brittney's cue to return for the show. I know she's not eager to watch this particular show. She was only eager to get her mom here. Not to see it. But I made it part of the "price" of meeting her mom. Brittney has to watch the show. I didn't do it because I care if she watches. I did it for one, very simple, reason. It will humiliate Rita that much more to see that her daughter is watching the degrading show.