I don’t know why I bother with underwear when I’m around her. I used to bring a spare pair knowing she’d be likely to confiscate them but the more diabolical she gets, the less inclined I am to force further punishment. If she wants me exposed, she will have her way.
“Are you actually wearing underwear? Take them off.” She says in her authoritative tone, her eyes are sparkling with the complete confidence that I will.
I pause and shoot her the “Do I have to?” look long enough to confirm that yes, yes I fucking do. Her focus is on fully me and her expectation is that I will be a good puppy and do as I’m told. Besides, she’s knows I love it…that I love her switchy evil twin.
She’s lined up an audience of hot girls to watch me as relent to her request; I wriggle out of my pants, shimmying them down as elegantly as I can in a room full of revellers and only stumbling slightly as they catch on my shoe. I pick them up, aware that my cheeks are burning and stuff them into my bag.
“Isn’t she cute?” …”and so obedient…” ….”such a good little toy”….
Their compliments further add to my blushes.
With a dangerously short hem line on my backless dress I’m am very aware of how naked I am underneath, especially given the likelihood of being picked up for squeezy hugs. The potential for full-room flashing is high.
That risk, and the sudden exposure to the air combined with her little game suddenly has me rampant. She can see it, holding my gaze and merely threatening me with a hit to the cunt makes my hips rock uncontrollably. She hasn’t even touched me and I’m soaking wet.
Bouncing from room to room, group to group, excitable, happy and encouragable. Easy prey for known and trusted hands to slip down the back of my dress, hardly discreet with tell-tale puddles and associated shame-face I’m reminded how I love my friends.
Frequently I bound back to her, wagging and beaming. I assure her, as I have done many others, that no, really, I’m not drunk, simply happy, flying on endorphins, high on horn.
I’m her good happy puppy, her good girl… “Now hold still…”
She pulls up the corner of my already short dress and uses it to clean her glasses. Not even looking at me, casually looking across the room, she doesn’t have to watch to know that I’m squirming. I know anyone who happens to look in our direction now has full un-obscured view. I get a brief flash of her sadistic glee face before she allows the material to drop and kisses me. She’s enjoying this.
I find her again later engaged with Uncle, cutely perched on one knee, arms wrapped around his neck. Two of my favourite people, in one place, looking hot, lucky me.I perv momentarily before they spot me, holding out their hands to invite me in. I take my place on his other knee, legs either side, smattering kisses on each of them. Uncle comments on his luck, asking “whatever did I do to deserve the attention of two hot girls?”
She delights in telling him my naughty behaviour, his Little Star has been a bad girl. She’s not wearing any knickers and she’s letting the bad men touch her…and she likes it. I try my best to feign innocence, to protest and claim I was just doing as I’m told but I’m hushed as they continue their conversation, talking about me and yet ignoring me. Ignoring my words and my reactions as she tells him….
“Look….” Once again pulling up the material, further this time, and completely exposing me to the room. The very full, very noisy room.
For a moment that stands still they don’t touch me.
They don’t say anything.
They just look.
I try to persuade myself that no one can see, that no one’s looking right now but that flicker of doubt is enough to make me crumble when her eyes flick up to meet mine. Her wry smile giving away how much she understands the effect this is having on me. I want to hide my face but she doesn’t let me, linking her fingers between mine.
His rocking starts gently, bouncing me with barely a movement on his knee. Rocking that gets more enthusiastic as I start to respond, flushed and panting.
Fuck, please don’t make me cum here in the middle of the room.
It’s too late, far too late, primed and excitable it’s all too much.
They mock me gently, forcing me look at the mess I made, filthy girl.
They barely conceal the secret pride in their tag team efforts for public humiliation,. Miss Kitty is exceptionally gleeful, revelling in my confidence, my rampant-happy, delighting in her role, the originator of all the deviance, without ever having to slip her own hands between my legs, simply by making me exposed.