MOMS SLIPPERY SLOPE
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Down The Slippery Slope - Part 2 free porn video
Over two weeks had now passed since I'd been caned by Miss Smith but the
memory was vivid and my buttocks still bore traces of the marks. The
recollections of an uncomfortable hour spent facing the wall with my
hands on my head also remained with me. However, I'd escaped being
reported to the police for stealing my neighbour's bra and knickers, and
I counted myself lucky. As far as I was concerned, the episode was now
closed, or so I thought...
It was at 6.15 on a Friday evening that my phone rang. I didn't recognise
the number on the caller display but I knew her voice as soon as she
spoke. "Joanna," she said, "I have some jobs that need doing so I want
you over here straight away."
A shiver went down my spine and my stomach started fluttering. "But, erm,
but Miss Smith," I replied, "I was just about to sit down to eat. What is
it you want doing?"
I detected impatience in her voice as she responded, "I don't expect you
to ask questions, Joanna. But I do expect you to come over here right
away. If you don't you will regret it, that I promise." With that, she
put the phone down and I accepted that I had no choice but to turn off
the oven and drive straight over to her house.
Fifteen minutes later I parked in her driveway and made my way to the
front door of her large, detached dwelling. There, stuck to the door, was
a 12 x 8 photograph of me dressed just in bra and thong, my face clearly
identifiable. Angered, I snatched the photograph and tore it into
quarters. I rang the bell repeatedly and waited, fuming, until Miss Smith
came to let me in. Slim and attractive, she was casually dressed in blue
jeans and a tight fitting white T-shirt that accentuated her pert
breasts. Her long blond hair was tied back in a ponytail. Ordinarily, I
would have paused to take in the sight but my anger had got the better of
me. "What's the meaning of this?" I shouted, pushing past her so that I
was standing in the hall. "You can't put this sort of picture up where it
might be seen. This is outrageous! We had a deal."
She didn't immediately answer, instead leading the way into her study
where my punishment had taken place two weeks earlier. "Say something,
you stupid bitch!" I yelled. "How many more copies have you got of these
photos? I want them destroyed, do you hear me?"
Still she didn't answer but she didn't seemed to be intimidated by my
shouting. I tried a different approach. "Please," I said, in a quieter
voice, "if you want some jobs doing I'll be happy to do them for you, but
only if you promise me that you will get rid of these photos. All of
them! PLEASE, Miss Smith!"
She calmly looked me in the eyes for several seconds. "You're in no
position to bargain, Joanna," she replied, after a long pause, "and I
don't appreciate being spoken to in those terms. You will be punished for
using that sort of language with me."
I remembered, perhaps belatedly, that she held all the cards and there
was little I could do other than appeal to her better nature, assuming
she had one. The last thing I wanted was more strokes of her riding crop.
"I'm really sorry, Miss Smith," I replied, now sounding rather contrite,
"please don't cane me again. It was a stupid outburst on my part. I'm
very sorry. It's just that I was annoyed to find that photo on the front
door. I really did think that the matter was closed when I'd been caned
last time. As I said, if you wanted me to do some chores I would have
been happy to do them but the picture on the door threw me off balance.
You do understand, don't you?"
"What I don't understand, Joanna," she responded, "is why you thought the
matter was closed. Whatever gave you the idea that you had been
sufficiently punished for stealing my sister's lingerie?"
I felt myself go red. "Well, I just thought that was the end of it. You
didn't say otherwise, that's all. It can't go on for ever, Miss .... can
it?"
"Joanna," Miss Smith replied firmly, "even if it had been at an end,
which it most certainly wasn't, your outburst this evening has to be
punished. You have to learn to control your temper. However, I'm going to
defer your punishment, and it's severity will be determined by how well
behaved you are this evening." She looked at me, making sure I
understood.
"Thank you, Miss," I replied, the relief evident in my voice. "I will do
whatever you want me to do."
"Yes, I think you will," she mused, a faint smile on her lips. "But, to
remove all doubt, let me make some things clear to you. I have copies of
that photograph that you tore up, as well as many others, and I am quite
prepared to reveal them to the world at large if you fail to do what you
are told. The JPGs are stored hidden on the internet but it would be a
simple matter to make them visible for all to see. Is that what you want,
Joanna?"
"No Miss, of course not! I just want to bring this to a close so we can
put it behind us. Please, Miss."
"It will be a long time before we can put this behind us, as you put it.
Now, we've wasted enough time already. Strip off to your underwear,
Joanna."
"But I thought you were deferring my punishment, Miss," I exclaimed.
"I don't like having to repeat myself, Joanna - do as you are told," she
said very firmly and with a measured, assertive tone.
Realising I was defeated, and not wishing to inflict more punishment on
myself, I did as I had been instructed, not sure what to expect. I took
off my shoes, trousers, sweater and shirt, piled them on the floor, and
stood before her naked except for my boxer shorts.
"Why are you wearing those?" she quizzed, pointing at my boxers.
Thinking I'd misunderstood her instructions, I started to pull them down.
"NO!" she replied, her voice rather louder now than before, "I mean why
are you not wearing knickers? And where's your bra?"
Stunned by what she was saying I found it difficult to reply. "Sorry, but
I don't own any knickers or a bra. The ones I wore last time were your
sister's. I gave them back to you, Miss, after you had punished me. You
remember?"
"Yes, I know you did," she replied, "you had to - they weren't yours,
were they? You had to return them, not that my sister would ever wear
them again after you'd worn them. But you must have some lingerie of your
own. And, if not, what has stopped you buying some?
I hesitated before replying, wondering where the conversation was going.
"I used to have a few items, Miss," I explained, feeling very
embarrassed, "but I threw them out after you punished me. I felt guilty
and wanted to make a fresh start. I thought that was what you wanted,
Miss." Sensing she wasn't satisfied with this explanation, I added, "And
you didn't tell me to buy any, Miss." I was now feeling very confused.
"I expected you to have used some common-sense. Someone called Joanna
does not wear male underwear, does she? Why do you think I gave you a
female name, you imbecile?"
None of this made any sense, but I knew that arguing was pointless.
"Sorry, Miss, I will buy some tomorrow," I replied, thinking that
ordering some lingerie over the internet sounded quite exciting.
"No!" she exclaimed, "You will go and buy some now."
"But it's nearly 7 o'clock!" I responded, my disbelief telling in my
voice. "The shops will be closed."
"Not the supermarkets," she riposted, "they're open 24 hours a day and
they sell underwear. Give me your wallet. Quickly!"
I bent down, pulled my wallet from my trousers and passed it to her. She
extracted a note from it. "Right," she said, "Here's ?10. You will go to
the nearest supermarket and buy yourself a plain white bra, a pair of
white cotton panties and a pair of black tights. Obviously they need to
be in your size. I don't want to see any fancy frills or lace, and
nothing sexy. You are buying cheap, plain underwear. I hope that is
clear? You will be back here one hour from now wearing all three items."
"But they will cost more than ?10, that's not enough money," I exclaimed.
"Can't I buy something tomorrow instead?"
"You are testing my patience, Joanna. If you buy the cheapest items
available you will come back with change from ?10. I'm sending you out to
buy bargain-basement, functional underwear, not to get something
glamorous for your girlfriend, assuming you have one! Now, you've got
just 59 minutes left so are you going to argue any more or are you going
to do as you have been told? If you're not back in time, then you will
find yourself in even more trouble. And keep the receipt because I will
want to see it."
I wanted to argue further but knew that I was not going to win this
fight. I took the ?10, quickly put my clothes back on and then rushed out
to the car, leaving my wallet and credit cards with Miss Smith.
Driving to the supermarket I nearly had a couple of accidents, such was
my nervousness. I could concentrate on nothing other than the task that
lay ahead of me. How crowded was the store likely to be at this time of
night? Would there be anyone there I knew? What would I say to them? How
could I explain why I'm buying a set of plain underwear for ?10? Who
would buy something so cheap and so ordinary as a present for their
partner? Will anyone realise I'm buying in my size?
I felt physically sick as I entered the supermarket and went to the
clothes section. I kept checking my watch, working out how long I had. As
I approached the clothing I could see from a distance that most of the
bras were quite ornate and colourful, and also costing ?15-20 each. I got
a bit closer and saw they had a small selection of plain white bras on
display that had a price tag of just ?4. There were a couple of women
looking at them so I had to pretend to stand a few feet away while they
nattered about what was on offer. I was becoming increasingly agitated,
wishing they would stop lingering and move on. Eventually, they did and,
plucking up courage, and hoping I wouldn't draw too much attention to
myself, I went over to the cheap bras.
They seemed to fit the requirement in that they were white, underwired T-
shirt bras and were plain with no lace. Despite being cheap, they looked
of reasonable quality. I took just a few seconds to pull out a size 38,
which I knew was my band size. I wasn't too worried about the cup size
but what I was holding was a size C which seemed fine. Shoving it under
my arm, I then moved to the panties area which was alongside the bras.
There seemed to be a massive selection of cheap pairs but no simple
designs in white. Then I saw a selection of boxed briefs. For ?3 I could
get three pairs of cotton knickers, one pair white and the other pairs
lilac and pink. I picked up a box of medium size. Then, without looking
to see who might be observing me, I moved along to the pantyhose section
and picked up a pair of black ones. They were ?2 so my total purchase was
?9. I was inside budget!
Looking again at my watch I saw I had just 25 minutes to pay, get changed
and drive back to Miss Smith's. There was no time to assess the checkout
assistants, I just had to choose the shortest queue in the six items or
less line. Behind me was a young woman in her mid-twenties and the
checkout assistant was younger still - her name badge told me she was
Ellie. As I put my purchases down, the assistant glanced not at me but at
the woman behind me. No words were spoken but a non-verbal message passed
between the two of them and a slight smile appeared on the face of the
assistant. I was now feeling very flushed and getting increasing agitated
as the assistant deliberately took as long as possible scanning my items.
"38C?" she enquired. "You can return it if it doesn't fit." Her eyes
flicked again to the girl behind me, her smile returning for a couple of
seconds. "Did you catch that, Sir? It's a 38C? Is that the right size?"
"Yes," I muttered, avoiding eye contact with her.
She picked up the panties. "Medium," she confirmed, "but these can't be
returned, Sir." She looked at me, waiting for me to show I understood.
"I'll tell my wife," I mumbled, wishing the earth would swallow me up.
She didn't query the size of my tights but scanned them and then asked
for ?9 which I quickly paid before packing my purchases into a plastic
bag.
Grabbing my change and receipt, I walked as quickly as I could to the
customer toilets. I was relieved to find there was an empty cubicle and I
went in and stripped off until I was naked. I put my boxer shorts and
socks into the bag and took out the box containing the knickers. I
removed the white pair and slipped them on. Despite my nervousness, I
hardened slightly as I pulled the tight underwear over my bottom, feeling
the soft thin fabric against my skin. Sitting down on the toilet seat, I
then struggled to put on the pantyhose, desperately concerned that I was
going to ladder them. I'd worn them before and always found them
difficult to put on. The first attempt resulted in severe wrinkles and
the crutch was half way down my legs. I had to start again, and the
second try was successful. The tightness of the pantyhose around my legs
and bottom, and the cool, tingling sensation they induced, drove me wild
and I became aroused despite my increasing anxiety.
Finally, I put on the bra. My hands were trembling as I wrapped it around
my waist and clipped the clasp together from the front, before turning
the bra around and raising it up my chest and slipping my arms through
the shoulder straps. It was quite a battle and I was concerned about the
bra being stretched or damaged in the process.
My bra fitted, as I had expected it to, but it was very tight although I
had no time to adjust it. Because of its moulded shape, it made me look
like I had breasts despite me not inserting any padding into the cups.
Quickly, I put my shirt, sweater, trousers and shoes back on. Leaving the
cubicle I glanced in the mirror above the washbasins. My thin sweater did
not disguise the fact that I was wearing a bra and I also suspected that
the outline of the straps would be visible from the back. I did wonder
about taking the bra off and putting it on in the car outside Miss
Smith's house but a glance at my watch told me that I didn't have time. I
had just five minutes to get back to Miss Smith's, a journey which I knew
would take fifteen minutes. In a state of near panic, I headed out of the
store, past the checkout assistant who served me. I could feel her eyes
burrowing into me as I strode past and I knew that she had detected my
bra. As I reached the door, I looked back and she was still staring in my
direction. This was one supermarket that I wouldn't be able to shop in
again.
Once out of the shop, I sprinted to my car and then raced out of the car
park, wondering what the consequences of my late return would mean.
Dottie
- 24.08.2021
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