Vestiphobia Pt. 05

Lisa slowly walked to the table, holding out the bottle of wine before her. She had been naked in the presence of so many, for so long, but each time was like the first time. The shock never went away. There was also the sensation of air on her newly hairless crotch.

The male guest, on the right, was an older man with hair that was more gray than black and a pointy beard. He wore a purple suit that reminded Lisa of the fashion designers she'd met on the night of the break-in. Though he was not a wholly unattractive man, he had an oily demeanor that made Lisa shudder, and this wasn't helped by the way he looked at her, devouring her with his eyes, practically licking his lips.

The female guest, on the left, was a stranger-looking specimen. She was very thin, with a face you could see the bones of, and very pale, with long, straight hair that was pure white. Her face didn't look old, but it didn't look young either--Lisa wouldn't have been able to guess her age if asked. From what Lisa could see above the table, she appeared to be wearing a shoulderless dress made entirely out of green leaves. She looked at Lisa without any obvious expression in her pale green eyes.

Seated between the two, at the head of the table, was Annabelle, smiling cruelly. "Lisa, dear, please pour us each a glass."

Lisa dutifully uncorked the bottle and poured wine into the female guest's glass. When the glass was half full, a cold, bony hand touched her own indicating that this was enough. The woman did not look at or acknowledge Lisa further as she pulled away.

Lisa then poured wine into Lady Annabelle's glass and move to the male guest, who insisted on holding his glass in such a way that she had to lean over him to pour it. She could feel his hot breath on her skin and his eyes on her boobs.

"Thanks, sweetcheeks," he said, once his glass was filled almost to the brim and Lisa could finally step back.

Annabelle caught Lisa's eye. "Leave the bottle here and bring the starters."

Lisa nodded, placed the wine on the table and turned to return to the kitchen. She tried to walk swiftly, but knew she hadn't been quick enough when she felt a hand against her ass, and then a squeeze.

Lisa almost leaped a foot in the air. She'd had her ass grabbed once or twice before, but only through clothes. It was much worse on bare skin. Reflexively, she turned her head back and gave the man a dirty look. He grinned back at her and winked.

"Lisa!" shrieked Annabelle. "That is no way to look at an honored guest! Show respect, young lady!"

The anger Lisa felt was immediately washed away by dread. Stupid, stupid, stupid! What was she thinking? She'd been seconds away from slapping the man.

"Sydney, please forgive Lisa," said Annabelle. "She is very new at this, and there's a lot she still needs to learn."

Sydney laughed heartily. "Nothing a bit of discipline won't fix, eh?"

Annabelle's characteristically cruel smile returned. "You're absolutely right, Sydney. Please, show Lisa some discipline."

Lisa's eyes widened in horror.

"With pleasure," said Sydney.

SMACK! Lisa squealed as Sydney's hand once again came into contact with her bare backside. The force of it stung, and it took all her willpower not to bring her hands back and rub it.

"That should be enough," said Annabelle. "The starters, please, Lisa."

Lisa speedwalked back to the kitchen. Once safely inside, she allowed her face to contort into an expression of rage and pain, and let a few tears drop. She rubbed the tender part of her ass. What a sleazey fucker that Sydney was! How dare he! And of course Annabelle would only encourage it...

The party would be expecting the starters soon, so there was no time for any sort of recovery. Wiping her tears and forcing her mouth back into a hard, thin line, Lisa started dishing up the soup. As she dished, she strained her ears to catch snippets of the conversations in the dining room."

"...naked waitress... wonderful idea..."

"...a thorough cleaning of course..."

"...don't doubt...a thief..."

"...suitable punishment..."

"...stroke of brilliance..."

Lisa brought out two bowls of soup and placed them in front of the two guests. This time, the party continued their conversation, acting as if she wasn't there. Well, apart from Sydney's leers.

"So she really can't wear clothes at all?" asked the female guest.

"Not without extreme discomfort," replied Annabelle. "The tighter the clothes and--I'm really proud of this one--the more private the body part, the more uncomfortable it is!"

"That explains the shoes and jewelry," said Sydney.

"Yes, those are fine," said Annabelle. "We could give her a hat, a belt, gloves, stockings, garters, even a scarf, and she'd be mostly fine. But add even just a bikini to that, and she feels compelled to take it all off immediately!"

"Very creative," said the female guest.

"I learned from the best, Drusilla," Annabelle replied, smiling at her.

During the conversation, Lisa fetched the last bowl of soup and the breadbasket for the table. Then she retreated to the far wall, away from grabby hands, and stood at attention, with her hands behind her back, hoping to hear more.

"Lisa," said Annabelle. "You're dismissed. Please return to the kitchen."

"I think she should stay!" said Sydney. Then, pushing his chair back slightly, he added, "In fact, she can come sit on my lap!"

Lisa battled to keep a blank, emotionless face.

"There's no need for that," said Annabelle brusquely. "You've had your free sample already, Sydney."

Sydney laughed. "What, don't you believe in test drives? How else can I know if it's the right fit?"

"You know how I do business," Annabelle said coldly. "I can't risk damaged merchandise. And at the rate you go through wives, I don't trust you to be gentle."

Sydney made the facial expression of a small boy who has just watched his soccer ball deflate. "Couldn't you just magic up any, uh, cracks and chips?" He chortled at his joke.

Annabelle looked down for a moment. "It's... not that simple. My domain is that of the mind. Material reality is... more complicated..."

There was a brief, uncomfortable silence. A nasty look came over Sydney's countenance.

"And besides," continued Annabelle, forcing a jovial air, "I'm rather enjoying having a servant. Lisa, bring us the main course!"

Lisa nodded and returned to the kitchen.

The rest of the dinner passed without incident. True to her word, Annabelle did not let Sydney touch Lisa again. The guests appeared to enjoy the roast that Lisa had prepared, and that gave her a strange feeling of pride.

After dessert, Lisa brought out another bottle of wine, and was then dismissed to her sleeping quarters, much to Sydney's disappointment. "Lovely to meet you," he said, blowing a kiss after her. Lisa picked up the pace.

Once inside her room, she closed the door and pushed the iron tub in front of it. Annabelle would probably be mad about that, but Lisa wasn't taking any chances.

She lay down on her mattress, entirely spent after one of the most exhausting and humiliating days of her life. And that was getting to be a stiff competition.

But though Lisa's body was tired, her mind was restless. Her thoughts turned back to the dinner-table conversation.

"My domain is that of the mind."

"Material reality is more complicated."

Lisa recalled how tired Annabelle had looked after magically filling her bathtub, and then again after shaving her pubic hair. She thought back to all the spells she'd seen Debra perform, and, more importantly, to the ones she hadn't. Why would a witch need to pick a lock?

Maybe this witch was not invincible after all.

* * *

Chapter Fifteen: Unbroken

Lisa was awoken by a pain in her temples. She shot up instantly, rubbing her head, and looked around. The headache had interrupted a dream she'd been having, about being home for Christmas. The smiling faces of her parents and her old school friends. The snow falling and the fireplace crackling.

And the feeling of fabric on her skin. Against her legs and arms and on her back. The weight of a big winter coat on her shoulders. The tight embrace and support of a bra. Gloves on her hands and a scarf around her neck. All of it, without pain or discomfort.

But it was just a dream. She was still in the witch's house, and had spent the night on a ratty old mattress, without so much as a blanket to cover herself. She looked down at her unsupported breasts and the spot between her legs, where hair was no longer visible. Her "outfit" from last night, high-heels and bracelets, lay in a corner of the room. Her long hair fell about her face.

The headache still raged. Lisa had the intuitive sense that it was Lady Annabelle's way of calling her to her duty. Duty. No, captivity. She had no duty to this evil woman, no matter what was said to the contrary. The shoplifting had been a mistake, Lisa regretted it, but she had surely suffered enough.

With a grunt of effort, Lisa pushed the heavy bathtub away from the door and opened it. Standing in the doorway, about to step out, she had a familiar moment of panic. She was stepping out into the world with nothing to cover her body. Even after so long, she felt keenly the air against her exposed skin.

"There you are," said Lady Annabelle. She wore a form-fitting emerald green dress with a plunging neckline, and her red hair was beautifully curled, like a fifties glamour model. "I have a job for you in the basement. Do it well, and you will regain your power of speech."

Lisa's eyes widened with hope and she nodded vigorously.

"In the basement, you will find a frog," Annabelle continued. "This frog was not born a frog, but a man. He brought this punishment upon himself, but has served his term and learned his lesson."

Lisa nodded again. She wondered how long her own term was to be.

"The curse can only be broken by a kiss," Annabelle continued. "Not true love or any of that fairy-tale nonsense, just a kiss on the lips. Kiss the frog, and he will become a man again. Hold the kiss through the transformation, and you will regain your voice."

The idea of kissing a frog, and then basically making out with an unknown man made Lisa wrinkle her brow. But if that's what she had to do to get her voice back, she would do it.

Lady Annabelle led Lisa to the entrance of the basement, a door in the kitchen. She opened the door, beyond which stone steps spiraled into the dark.

Taking a deep breath, Lisa walked down the steps, the stone cold against her bare feet. She trailed the wall with her right hand as she descended into the darkness.

"Ribbit."

The sound startled her. It didn't sound like a frog, but a human being. At the bottom of the staircase, she fumbled against the wall for the light-switch. There it was! CLICK.

A dim bulb on the ceiling flickered to life, illuminating the "frog". Lisa gasped.

In the center of the basement, a stocky man crouched in a frog-like position, with his fists on the ground. He wore blue jeans and a green t-shirt, and looked a few years older than Lisa. He blinked at her and stuck out his tongue.

"Ribbit," he said again.

The effect was uncanny. Lisa felt like she ought to be embarrassed in the presence of a fully clothed man, but his dumb, animalistic stare seemed wholly innocent. He really was, at least in his own mind, a frog. Lisa couldn't decided whether this made her job easier or harder than if she'd had to kiss an actual frog. She took a step towards him.

Looking panicked, the frog hopped away, a clumsy, ridiculous movement to watch a human body make. Catching him would be no problem.

Animated by the goal of regaining her voice, Lisa stomped towards the frog and grabbed him by the shoulder. Allowing herself a brief preliminary shudder, she forced his head around and puckered up her lips. She held his dumb animal gaze for a moment before taking the plunge.

Their lips met, Lisa aggressively holding the back of the frog's head still. Initially, the frog thrashed against her, his lips unyielding. But gradually he calmed down and leaned into it, lips softened.

Lisa released the kiss as she felt his hand on her lower back.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," she said, stiffening and drawing her head back. "Just breaking a curse here." Her voice sounded hoarse, but she could speak again. The witch had been telling the truth.

The man who was no longer a frog looked at her with a mix of desire and confusion. "Why are you naked?"

Lisa blushed and put an arm across her chest. "It's a long story."

"Well, it's not every day a hot naked chick forces herself on me," he said. "But it is a welcome change from frog life."

Lisa took a step back, but not before the man managed to slide his hand down and squeeze her butt-cheek. "Eep!" she yelped.

"Hey baby, you started it," he said, pulling himself up to from the floor. "I don't think I'm fully cured yet. Ribbit." He winked.

Lisa balled her hands into fists and glared daggers at the man.

"You wanna fight? I like it rough."

WHAM! The sound of Lisa's fist meeting the man's cheek echoed across the basement. He staggered backwards, clutching his face in his hands. "Bitch!"

Lisa dropped into a fighting crouch, fists again readied. She felt strong, powerful, more than a match for this dweeb.

The man's cheek was swollen and his eyes were clouded with hatred. "I swear, I'll--"

But before he could finish his threat, his face went blank, and he dropped back down into a crouch. "Ribbit."

Lisa turned around to see Lady Annabelle standing at the foot of the stairs. "Perhaps he hasn't learned his lesson yet after all," she said. "I did this to him after he 'accidentally' felt up Bethany. Two weeks as a frog was not long enough to give this disgusting little pervert respect for women. Perhaps another month will do it."

The frog man sat motionless, his face blank of all expression. If he could hear the extension of his sentence, it didn't show.

"Come, Lisa," said Annabelle, beckoning her with a finger. "There is much you must do to learn your own lesson."

"How much?" Lisa asked. The words tumbled out of her mouth, though she'd only meant to think them.

A cruel smile spread across Annabelle's face. "Did you ever see the play Les Miserables?"

"No."

"Well, near the start, Jean Valjean is arrested for stealing a loaf of bread to feed his family. He is given five years on the galleys. Every time he attempts to escape, another five years is added to his sentence. I think this is a good model to follow."

Lisa cocked her head. "I--I don't understand."

"Let us must keep in mind the differing circumstances of the crimes," Annabelle continued. "Valjean stole out of desperation. His family was hungry, they had no food. You stole out of greed. You were not naked, but had many clothes to wear. So your punishment must of course be... greater."

Lisa's mouth fell open.

"And you did not merely steal from my shop. You also broke into both my shop and my cabin, in attempts to steal more. Like Valjean, you have extended your own sentence."

"H--how long was he in jail for?"

"Twenty years."

Lisa could feel the beginnings of tears in her eyes. She pointed angrily at the frogman. "B--but that guy only got a few weeks!"

Annabelle put a hand to her chin. "That's a good point. But I can't have him living in my basement forever, you know."

"S--surely you need the spare room too!" Lisa was just saying whatever came to mind now.

Annabelle's smile softened, and she placed a handle gently under Lisa's chin. "Oh Lisa, but you've been so useful! I do so enjoy having a helping hand around here."

At this, Annabelle spread her arms wide and pulled Lisa into an embrace. The fabric of her dress was silk against Lisa's back.

"In some ways," she whispered in Lisa's ear, "you're like the daughter I never had."

Lisa shuddered.

"But you're right," Annabelle continued. "Eventually, I will need the room. Even favorite daughters must eventually leave the nest."

Hope swelled in Lisa's chest.

"I'm sure Sydney will be more than happy to take you off my hands when the time comes," Annabelle concluded, releasing Lisa from the hug. "He's very good in bed, you know." She winked.

As Lisa stood in that basement, feet rooted to the floor, perspiring, her future unfurled before her mind's eye. She would serve in Lady Annabelle's house, cooking and cleaning and entertaining her guests, going on shopping trips as the strange, mentally deficient daughter. Always naked, with no more than a few bangles on her body.

Then, when Annabelle tired of her, or found a new slave, she would be sold off to Sydney, the nasty, oily old man who spanked her at dinner last night. She imagined herself at the wedding ceremony, naked but for a bridal veil, Sydney slipping a ring onto her finger to claim her as his own.

And then, finally, if she survived as Sydney's bride, she would be released, a woman of forty. She saw herself, tired, broken, worn out, and still naked, with wrinkly skin and sagging breasts. Released at last after twenty long years of naked servitude.

"It'll have to be more than twenty years, of course," mused Annabelle. "That's far too short. Let's go with twenty five. That's a good number."

Tears rolled down Lisa's face.

"Come now, Lisa, or I'll make it twenty six." Annabelle was already ascending the staircase.

Lisa blinked out the tears and shook the visions out of her head. She could feel anger building inside her. She looked back at the frogman's face, still badly bruised from her punch. Lady Annabelle appeared not to have noticed it. She seemed to have no idea how strong her curse had made Lisa.

There was a temptation to rush at Lady Annabelle. To hold her down and beat her. To hit her once for every year she planned to keep Lisa imprisoned. It would feel good, even better than it had felt to punch the frogman. But it would be rash.

Lisa climbed the stairs slowly, taking deep breaths in and out to calm herself. As she climbed, she forged her anger into determination. The witch could not hold her for twenty five years. Not even for twenty five days.

* * *

Over the next two weeks, Lady Annabelle worked Lisa hard throughout the day. She would wake her up early in the morning and send her outside in the damp dew to tend to the plants and occasionally mow the lawn. Though she got cold and wet, she was grateful to be up too early to draw attention to herself, beyond the double-takes of a few joggers.

Then she would hose the dirt and grass off her skin and drip dry in the early morning sun. After that, she would prepare her lady's breakfast, and then begin cleaning the house. Through the day, she would prepare lunch and dinner.

About twice a week, Lisa did the laundry. Being forbidden to use the washing machine, she washed the clothes by hand in a bucket of soapy water. Lady Annabelle would watch, sometimes, enjoying the spectacle of the naked girl washing mountains of clothing she couldn't wear.

Another thing Annabelle liked to do with Lisa was practice magic. Each night, after dinner, she would summon Lisa into the drawing room and cast a succession of spells on her.

The spells Annabelle liked to cast followed a pattern that was becoming clearer and clearer to Lisa. One night, she was turned into a succession of animals, in the way the frogman had been. She bawked like a chicken and meowed like a cat, but no physical transformation came over her. Instead, it was like her body was possessed by the spirit of an animal, who gained control of her limbs while she looked on, powerless.

Annabelle broke the final spell just as Lisa, in dog mode, was raising her leg over the couch leg. She collapsed into a mortified, blushing heap as control returned to her body.

Another night, Annabelle experimented with tweaking the parameters of Lisa's nudity curse. In one version, Lisa felt as though she was fully clothed, while still remaining naked. It was a strange, confusing feeling, looking down at her bare skin while she could feel fabric rub against it.