RITA'S DEPARTMENT STORE ADVENTURE
Alec Leamus and C. Lakewood
It was 8:50 on a Friday evening, and Rita Donovan was furious. She had
stepped out of the changing room for only a moment, and now her purse was
gone. Half-zipped into a black evening dress, she stormed out of the
changing room and up to the counter, where she collared the young
"Someone just stole my purse out of the changing room! I demand to speak
to the manager!"
Rita continued with her tirade, insisting that she had just stepped out
for a moment to see if there might be a smaller size, and, when she
returned, her purse was gone. All her money, credit cards, and ID, as
well as her cell phone and keys -- gone!
"Someone could be breaking into my house right now!" Rita screamed.
Several other women turned to stare at the spectacle, then slowly
returned their clothing choices to the nearest rack and moved away from
the tension-filled area.
It was almost closing time, and Stephanie Collins had already had a
stressful week and so was in no mood to deal with the screaming
irritation that faced her. Now age twenty, Stephanie had been working
at Nelson's for almost three years and had handled more than her share
of upset customers. But enough was enough.
After a full minute of abuse, Stephanie spoke. "Ma'am, please calm down.
You're upsetting our other customers. I'm sure no one is breaking into
your house. How long ago did it happen?"
"What difference does that make? Just call your manager!" Rita fumed.
Rita was twenty-four and used to dealing with staff and tradesmen. She
had led what most would describe as a privileged life. Dealing with a
common department store clerk was almost beneath her.
"I already called security. My manager is gone for the day," Stephanie
quietly answered, well aware that her calm manner would only further
"You ignorant bitch!" Rita spewed. "I make more money in a week than you
do in a month. I don't know why they hire such incompetent little fools
like you. All you have to do is ring up sales, re-hang some clothes, and
help the customers. But you're too busy gossiping with your friends and
just goofing off to notice a thief sneak into a changing room right by
your register and steal my purse." Rita was shouting now.
Stephanie drew a long, deep breath, trying to regain her composure before
trusting herself to speak.
"Ma'am, I am sorry, but I can direct you to the security office, and you
can fill out the proper forms there. And, if you like, you can leave a
message for my manager about my lack of service." Stephanie smiled.
"Right!" Rita stormed back into the changing room. Moments later,
there was a short scream from inside. "You! Miss! Whoever! Come back
here...now!" Rita shouted.
Stephanie removed her register keys and reluctantly walked back into the
dressing room area. Outside dressing room, three Rita stood with her
arms folded. "Now my clothes are gone, too," she stated flatly.
"Oh, just now? But there's no one here. The store is practically empty,
and the mall is about to close. Who could've taken them?" Stephanie was
"I don't know, but I don't have anything to wear now," Rita said.
"Ma'am, the store is closing. I have to lock up my register and do my
reports. Did you buy anything that you could wear?" Stephanie asked.
"NO. And if I had, I am sure that would have been stolen too. I guess
I'll just have to wear this home and bring it back later."
"Uh, ma'am, that's an eight hundred dollar Donna Karan. I just can't let
you walk out with that," Stephanie hesitantly replied.
"Well, go find me something else then; this is your fault," Rita spat.
"But ma'am, we have a very strict policy about that. Look there, at that
sign: "This store is not responsible for the loss of unattended personal
items," Stephanie quoted.
Rita glared at her.
"However, I might be able to find something in our lost and found. It
won't be a Donna Karan, but it will...." Stephanie's voice was
controlled, with some difficulty.
"Fine. So do it. My god, you're lame," Rita said.
Stephanie stood silently for a moment.
"There's just one thing. I have to go upstairs to get to lost and found,
but I have to lock everything up before I do."
"So what?" Rita said mockingly.
Stephanie spoke slowly, "Because we carry such high profile designer
names, they just made it a new policy that we have to lock all of our
racks. So I have to secure everything before I leave, or I could get
"What are you trying to say?"
"I have to have that dress," Stephanie said quietly.
"What? Maybe you're not listening. All my clothes are gone."
"I know, and I'm sorry, but it will just be for a moment while I go
upstairs. There's no one here. It's past nine. They have already
locked the front doors. And I'll be right back."
"Fine," Rita huffed, as she began to slip out of the black evening
dress. She cursed herself for not wearing panties (wanting to avoid the
dreaded VPL). Then she remembered that she had taken off her bra to try
on this stupid damn dress.
"You don't have anything tucked under the counter?" Rita asked, suddenly
"No, I'm sorry. We're very neat here." Stephanie suppressed a smile,
knowing full well there probably was something pushed into the back of a
drawer. Moreover, Stephanie noticed that without her clothes, Rita was
not as imposing as she had first appeared. Naked, Rita's breasts seemed
even smaller -- a 32B, perhaps -- while Stephanie was a 36C. She glanced
down at her own breasts as if for confirmation.
"What are you doing? Do you mind?" Rita asked, as she slipped the dress
down past her hips. "Would a little privacy be too much to ask?"
"Ma'am, I have to...." But Rita cut her off again.
"Whatever.... Please don't quote me any more policies, thank you....
Here!" Rita roughly tossed the dress in Stephanie's direction.
"I need the shoes, too." Rita, though seething with indignation, saw no
alternative and grudgingly complied. Stephanie stepped closer.
Previously, the two had been able to stand almost eye to eye. However,
now barefoot, Rita found herself staring up at Stephanie's chin.
Stephanie smiled quietly as she realized that, at five foot six and in
low heels, she now towered over Rita.
Rita, standing in front of Stephanie completely nude, was beginning to
feel a little strange. Naked and all alone in a big department store,
relying on a younger woman to help dress her, Rita was suddenly overcome
with memories of childhood shopping trips with her mother. These trips
were often humiliating, since Rita was allowed no privacy and was often
paraded around wearing only panties during frequent and lengthy quests
to find just the right dress.
"We have to step out of here," Stephanie announced.
"What? Why can't I wait in here?"
"I have to lock it up. Policy."
As they stepped back out into the store, Stephanie turned and locked the
dressing room's main door.
"This just gets better and better," said Rita, with a sneer.
Stephanie suddenly wheeled around and stared down her nose at Rita.
"Look, I have had just about enough of you. Here I am helping you and
trying my hardest to keep my temper -- and all you can do is gripe and
moan. I'm sorry that you were careless and didn't keep an eye on your
belongings, but that is not my fault. So keep your snide comments to
yourself and wait right here quietly until I get back." Stephanie
Rita, stunned by this sudden outburst, merely nodded. The words "wait
right here quietly" struck several memory chords in Rita, leaving her
Stephanie turned and walked away briskly. She laughingly called over
her shoulder, "I can see now why you were looking for a smaller size."
Rita had always been comfortable with her shape and size, but to be
completely nude in an unfamiliar setting and then scolded like a child
made her feel small. Rita turned and looked in the mirror. She was
small on top, but she had always worn the right clothes to improve her
figure. Her eyes wandered farther down her slim frame to her
clean-shaven pubic area. She always kept herself shaved, which, she
now realized, not only enhanced her nudity but also made her appear
even more childlike.
Rita quickly dismissed these thoughts as she gazed at her reflected face.
Her makeup was always impeccable and definitely womanly. As she peered
more closely, however, she saw that she had smeared her eyeliner. A
dark brown smudge marked her cheek. She imagined it must have happened
when she took off the damn dress.
Realizing that the spiteful store clerk would take her sweet time in
returning, she glanced around the now dimly lit store. Security had
already closed everything down, and some areas of the huge department
store were positively dark. Peering around through the clothes racks,
Rita spied a cosmetics counter and moved over to the display samples.
Finding a cleanser and cotton balls, she decided to begin with a clean
"I'll be damned if I'm going to wait quietly for that little bitch. I
can do what I want. Hell, I'm the customer!" she muttered.
Unfortunately there was no mirror handy, and the only passably good
substitute she could find in the gloom was the slightly reflective glass
countertop. She commandeered a makeup stool and dragged it over to the
counter. Kneeling atop the stool, she leaned over the counter and
squinted at her dim reflection -- but then her hair fell down around her
face. Frustrated, she straightened up and peevishly pushed her hair out
of the way. Again she leaned over, only to have her hair fall right back
again. With a sigh, she climbed off the stool and glanced around the
counter. On the far end were some hair clips, barrettes. She had not
worn those things since she was about ten years old. She smiled as she
chose a pair of pink-and-white clips off the rack. She quickly clipped
them into her hair on either side of her face and went back to work.
After she had removed all of her makeup, she used several bottles of the
sample cleansers. She knew these were probably expensive, but didn't
care. After cleansing, she searched for a toner, but found none.
Then, tucked behind some perfumes, she found a small orange bottle that
obviously contained toner. She liberally applied the liquid and then
wiped it off. When she peered into the countertop again, she noticed
small markings on her face, mainly across her cheeks and nose.
"Shit!" she said out loud. "They look like freckles!"
She scrambled down off the stool and snatched up the orange bottle.
Unable to read the small print in the low light, she could only guess
that she had inadvertently used a bronzer instead of a toner.
Unfortunately for Rita, certain bronzers did not react well with her
lighter skin tone.
She was just beginning to wonder how she was going to repair this
blunder, when her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a flashlight
beam and a deep voice.
"Put your hands where I can see them," the voice commanded.
"I'm just waiting for a salesgirl to...." Rita's voice trailed off as
she remembered her nudity and tried to move behind a nearby rack of
"Just stay where you are. We've been looking for you. And don't you run,
either. I'm in no mood to chase you."
"Look, I think you're mistaking me...."
"Put your hands back where I can see them...over your head. Now
interlock your fingers.... That's right. Put them on your head and
stand still," the voice commanded. "If you move, you'll get maced."
Shaken and scared, Rita obeyed orders, and the tall figure of a security
guard emerged from the shadows. As he approached, he began to chuckle,
though his flashlight beam didn't waver. He pulled out his two-way radio.
"Yeah, Hal? I found her. She was in cosmetics. Don't know what she was
up to, but you were right -- she's sure as naked as a jaybird. Beats me
how you spotted it on the monitor in this light."
"The trained eye, my boy. Remember, I've got satellite at home and a
bunch of X-rated channels; I get in a lot of practice. So okay, Joe,
secure the area and bring her back to the office. I'll make some calls.
Hey, and check Door 7 on your way back," Hal said.
"Ten-four, over and out." Joe signed off.
Throughout this exchange Rita stood completely still, grateful for the
dim lighting. However, her surprise was now giving way to anger, and,
as Joe pocketed his radio, she began to vent.
"You're a security guard! You're in so much trouble. You have no idea
who you're dealing with! I hope you have saved up some money, goon,
because you are going to be unemployed for a long time! I'm a customer
here, and you have...."
Rita's speech was suddenly interrupted by a sharp slap on her naked
rump, causing her to unlock her fingers and rub her butt cheek.
"Shut up," he said. "You're trespassing." He chuckled again. "And
you're naked in a store that's been closed for almost twenty minutes. I
don't want to hear any threats from you. And d'you know what? If you
ARE somebody important, I'm sure your country club set would truly love
to hear about this incident." He stopped and smiled.
"Now, are you going to give me any more trouble? Do I have to cuff you,
too?" Joe asked. "Right. Suppose you begin by telling me just what
you're doing in here...and in that condition."
Rita, still a bit stunned from the little slap, huffed and quickly
explained, grateful that Joe kept his flashlight trained on her face.
After listening patiently to her tale, Joe grasped her upper arm roughly
and began dragging her out of the cosmetics department.
"Where are we going?" Rita exclaimed. "Let go of me!"
"Listen, missy, that was a great story, and you can tell everybody all
about it, later. Come on." Joe took her more firmly by the arm.
"'Missy'? Who are you calling 'missy'? I'm twenty-four." Rita shouted.
Joe stopped, although he did not let go of his grip. He moved his
flashlight beam, very slowly, from the floor up over Rita's body to her
"Yeah, in eight to ten years...maybe," he said dryly.
Meanwhile, upstairs, Stephanie smiled broadly as she found the exact
outfit for her nude customer. Right on top, it must have been turned
in just before the store closed....
It was a Harrington School uniform, complete with ID.
Rita's embarrassment increased as the giant guard resumed dragging her
out of the sales area, up a series of stairs, and into a brightly lit
corridor that she presumed led to the security office. At least in the
darkness she was not as exposed; however, here in the light, she felt on
display. Once or twice, as they turned corner after corner, she caught
the security guard glancing at her bottom. When they passed a row of
reflective windows, Rita glimpsed herself in full view beside the guard.
She seemed tiny next to him. And, as she was -- naked, without makeup,
her hair pulled back in barrettes -- she did look rather like a little
girl, at least in passing. She couldn't shake that image from her mind,
and all sorts of terrible scenarios began to play out inside her head of
what he might do to her when they reached the office. Her breathing got
heavier, and she began to sweat, despite the air conditioning. In the
meantime, his stride being longer than hers, every so often he would
yank her arm and scold her for dawdling -- just as if she were a child.
So she was grateful when they reached the office and the guard roughly
manhandled her into a chair and tossed her a green and orange striped
"Here! Quit whining and don't move from that chair if you know what's
good for you," Joe said, as he disappeared into the back office.
As Rita's bottom hit the cold chair, she let out a little yelp. She
strained to hear what was being said in the next room and struggled with
the towel. She had immediately passed judgment on it as being a
"ghastly" color combination. More to the point, however, was that it
was fairly skimpy and did not cover much, even on her. Regardless of
how she draped it about her, its bottom edge came no more than an inch
or two below her navel. Her crotch and bottom being completely exposed,
she decided to obey orders and remain seated.
Eventually, Joe emerged from the back office with another security guard,
an equally large, rather older man. She assumed this was "Hal."
"So what were you up to down there?" Hal asked.
Rita began again, complaining bitterly about her stolen clothes -- and
about Stephanie, the treacherous store clerk who never returned.
Hal and Joe smiled. "Look, girlie, we already called your school," Hal
Hal crossed in front of Rita and sat behind the grubby metal desk that
was the primary piece of furniture in this dismal room.
"My school?" Rita trembled slightly. Her bare butt cheeks felt stuck to
the molded plastic chair in which Joe had planted her.
She mentally paged through her contacts. Her parents were in Italy with
her family's attorney. Her few friends would want to help (at first),
but would eventually close their social circle to her. She knew she was
alone. Bluster having failed, she decided to rely on reason and
diplomacy. She edged calmly forward, as her bare bottom peeled away
from the plastic chair.
"Look! My name is Rita Donovan. I am not in school. I am twenty-four
years old, and I live in Long View. Your man, rent-a-cop, security
guard, whatever, has made a huge mistake. I am not accustomed to being
handled in such a...."
Her voice rose as her frustration swelled. She began to reiterate her
entire story, but Hal smiled thinly and slowly raised his hand, palm out.
He had been in charge of security at Nelson's for almost six years. He
knew the dance. Rita's fresh face, small body, and smooth privates did
little to counter his earlier impressions. Without acknowledging Rita's
comments, he opened the folder on his desk and began a methodical series
of routine questions. He paused only twice to sip his lukewarm coffee,
and, after several minutes, Rita realized that he had stopped taking
notes. She stopped talking.
"So, one more time. What's your real name?" Hal leaned forward.
Joe grinned and clomped into the back office. He returned with a big,
black, twin-lens camera.
"Okay.... Picture time," Joe sang as he loomed over Rita and snapped a
"Stop it!" Rita cried out, rubbing her eyes and tugging at the hem of
the towel and cringing beneath Joe's shadow. The implicit menace
instantly transported her back to a distant, long-ago playground, years
of confidence melting away. Joe snorted comically at the sight of her
childish protest. He set the big camera down on the desk in front of
Hal and left the office.
"Relax. He was focused on your face. It's standard. It's for the
insurance." Hal ceremoniously tossed his pen onto the newly created
file and leaned back.
"Look miss, we're not stupid. We keep a close eye on the floor when you
kids are around here. We saw four of you come in together just before
7:00. And guess what? We spotted only three leaving. Then, 'bout an
hour ago, we got a call from Harrington's. So imagine our shock and
surprise when we see you poking around down there." His tone was
dripping with sarcasm. He gestured toward the several security monitors
(now dark) banked against the far wall.
Rita's stomach tightened. They had been watching her. They had seen her
moving around naked at the makeup counter. She unconsciously tugged
again at the hem of the towel. Then, as the ramifications of the words
"school" and "you kids" tumbled through her mind, she shifted back in her
seat. Hal smiled at her smooth bare legs. Slowly an idea began to take
shape, and Rita seductively smiled back. It was the sort of smile that
got men into trouble. She then carefully straightened her back and
repositioned her legs. Hal casually shaded his eyes and swiveled his
chair away about 90 degrees. He desperately attempted to dispel the
image of the freckled teen vamping before him.
The room remained silent for a several moments.
Stephanie failed to repress a small giggle as she imagined the irate
woman dressed in the childish uniform. She had packed the entire uniform
into a discarded blue zippered bag and started down the passageway, back
toward her deserving prey. She checked her lapel watch: 9:34. The bitch
had had some time now to cool her heels and reflect on her manners. As
she clicked down the empty hallway, Stephanie assumed a more commanding
demeanor. She fully anticipated a conflict. And it was a battle she
would inevitably win. She smiled again. Preoccupied with her fantasy,
she turned a corner and walked directly into Joe's chest.
"So, what was it? A bet...a game?" Hal spoke innocently, turning back
to face her. "Never mind. I really just wanna know where your clothes
"Here they are," Joe announced from the office doorway, presenting a
blue zippered bag.
"Oh, thank God! Finally!" Rita was jubilant.
"Here!" Joe dropped the bag into Rita's lap, and he pointed to the back
office. "Get dressed."
"Thank you," Rita snapped. "And I want your names and a copy of that
report when I return." She carefully stood and tugged at the back of
the towel. Cautiously, she shuffled into the back office. At the sight
of her bare cheeks peeking out from under the towel, Joe smiled.
"How did you find them so quickly?" Hal asked in low voice.
Joe cocked his head and thumbed toward the hallway. "I ran into Steph.
She was bringing the clothes.... And Door 7's okay."
Hal nodded and stepped into the hall to greet Stephanie.
"You know who she is?" Hal inquired in a low whisper.
"Just one of those girls who come in here all the time. They're always
causing trouble. She practically lost it with me downstairs," Stephanie
She was pleased with her good fortune. The nude woman had been further
humiliated by being dragged off to security. Normally Stephanie would
have clocked out by this time, but the prospect of seeing Rita dressed
in the uniform was just too compelling.
Hal grimaced and shrugged his shoulders. "Better stay out here, then.
We don't want to set her off again."
"Sure," Stephanie answered, hiding her disappointment.
Suddenly a loud, exasperated wail came from the back office.
"Ooohhh! These are not my clothes! I'm not wearing this!" Rita
Hal appeared in the doorway to the back office as Rita stood there,
self-consciously clutching the loaner towel to her nude form.
"Then go around like that -- doesn't bother me," Hal said flatly.
"This is a school uniform. I'm not dressing in this. I keep telling
you people I am not a student! I was downstairs. I went out of the
changing rooms...." Rita's voice trailed off as Hal slowly approached
and stood over her. Next to his hulking form, she felt very small
indeed. He paused, then spoke in a very controlled manner.
"This is all you've got. So, unless you want to be hauled off by the
police in your birthday suit, I suggest you comply."
"What? Does this turn you on? Having me play dress up? I'm sure my
attorney would love...." Rita was immediately cut off as Hal grabbed
her left arm and spun her around, revealing her tiny, pale bottom. His
meaty right hand landed two well-placed swats on each cheek in quick
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
"Put it on!"
Infuriated, Hal released her and stepped away. Rita sniffled. Slowly
she lowered the towel, trembling as more of her pale skin was exposed
to the chill office air. She reached back and rubbed both bottom cheeks
reflexively. She stood there, naked and friendless, and pondered the
("Any clothes are better than nothing at all. When I'm dressed, they'll
deal with me more seriously," she thought.)
She stepped into the plain white cotton panties and pulled them up, over
her hips. They were not as snug as she had hoped and drooped a little.
And -- omigod! -- the crotch was damp! Eeuwww! She shuddered and forced
herself to think of other things....
The white knee socks were too long, for example. She frowned. Digging
into the blue bag, she found a soft bra that contained no underwire or
padding. In fact, it more closely resembled a sports bra or even a...a
training bra. Unlike her usual bras, which enhanced her figure, this
one relied strictly on the shape of the girl. On a well-endowed woman
it would not have mattered, but on Rita it flattened her small breasts.
Adjusting the garment, she turned and drew in a deep breath. She stared
at her reflection in a metal storage cabinet. The image was distorted,
but she did have time to study it, unlike before, in Joe's grip. She
stood motionless and appalled, in her stocking feet, mouth agape. Her
small, pale frame and flat chest -- especially in combination with the
freckles, the urchin hairdo, and all -- did give her the appearance of a
skinny twelve year old. Shaken, she continued dressing.
She slipped on the white, short-sleeved blouse with its ridiculous Peter
Pan style collar. Desperately, she searched through the bag, but found
only the blue plaid "jumper" -- basically a short, pleated skirt with a
high waist and two broad straps, one over each shoulder. Though it
seemed to have been worn by a taller girl, it was scandalously short,
even on Rita.
Attached to the blouse's collar was a secretary's tie. It was a small,
flat ribbon of fabric that matched the jumper. Unfortunately, it was
sewn into the blouse's collar, so Rita was forced to button it in the
center. She bent down and pushed her feet into the two black shoes
provided. They were flat-heeled and decidedly childish in appearance.
They were also a little loose, but each did have a strap and brass
buckle that she tightened as much as she could.
She hesitated before turning again to the metal cabinet. Its distorted
reflection mocked her, and she slipped back in time. Hours earlier, all
style and arrogance, she had strutted into Nelson's, dressed in her crisp
business attire. Now her nylons had been replaced with cheap white knee
socks, her tailored silk suit had become a polyester school uniform, and
even her impeccably styled hair was tangled and childishly adorned with
barrettes. Rita shivered at the transformation.
"All done?" Hal interrupted. "Hurry up. They'll be here soon to take
"Back?" Rita asked. "Back to what?"
"Your school. Where did you think you were going? We're not going to
file charges. You're underage, and it's really not worth our efforts.
Besides, I know what kind of school Harrington's is." Hal's voice was
casual, but carried an undertone of amusement.
Rita felt the panic rising. Her mind flashed over the evening's sequence
of events. She had behaved like nothing more than a defiant child, and
now she was dressed the part. She realized that, without her ID or
purse or cell phone, she was stuck as a schoolgirl.
"My car is downstairs!" she said excitedly. "It has all my information,
registration, whatever.... I can prove what I'm saying."
She studied Hal's dubious expression, then she went on, trying hard to
stay calm and rational.
"Now, I want you men to think about this really carefully. If I am who
I say I am, and it does turn out that I actually am twenty-four year old
Hal considered the possibility...and realized the obvious repercussions
of such a blunder.
"Joe, go check it out," he ordered. And Joe started for the door.
"It's a silver BMW -- parked close to the entrance," Rita shouted after
Joe, who rolled his eyes and kept going.
"You better not be lying, 'cause if you are, I'm gonna punish you
myself," Hal snapped.
Tingles moved across Rita's panty-clad bottom. She swallowed as she
realized he could quite easily make good on his threat. She tried to
get rid of the mental image of her schoolgirl form flung across Hal's
expansive lap as she kicked and squealed.
Would he? Would he pull down her panties and expose her bare white butt
while Joe watched? Would Joe see her privates as she kicked? If Joe
returned, unable to find any evidence of her adult status, would Hal
really do it? Would he really spank her? Rita felt her heart pounding.
Her cotton panties were becoming even damper.
If Joe found nothing, there would be no reprieve until her situation
was resolved. Obviously the school would be aware that she was not a
student, but meanwhile her treatment would be unbearable.
The minutes ticked by slowly...until a loud buzzer broke the tension.
Hal went to his desk and pressed the intercom button. Nervous, Rita
"Yes?" Hal asked.
"Hello, I'm here from Harrington School," a woman's voice crackled
through the speaker.
"Wait there. I'll be right down." Hal swung around and roughly grabbed
Rita's upper arm.
"Please don't spank me again!" Rita cried out, instinctively covering
her backside with her free hand.
She struggled, but Hal had little difficulty in dragging her past the
back office and up to a door with a reinforced glass window. He deftly
unlocked the door, opened it, guided her inside a couple of feet,
released her, backed out, and shut the door. Confused, Rita stared at
him through the glass. There was no knob on the inside of the door. Her
mind was spinning, and she felt her adulthood slip away.
Exiting the office, Hal passed by Stephanie, standing just outside. He
"Keep an eye on her. She can't get out of there, but watch her anyway.
The keys are on the desk."
He grunted, shook his head, and hurried on down the hallway.
Stephanie had purposely and patiently waited outside the office door.
Now that Joe and Hal had both departed on separate errands, she knew her
moment had come. It was 9:49. It took a good fifteen minutes to get
from this office to the rear security door and probably a bit more than
that to escort a guest from there back to here. She also knew that Joe
tended to straggle and often took longer on his rounds than necessary.
Originally she had intended only to humiliate that woman. She had
planned to force her to dress in the uniform, and then perhaps tease her
and send her on her way. But this was so much better....
Stephanie stepped inside the security office and shut the door. She
paused for a moment, then cautiously approached the reinforced window into the holding room. She peeped through it, and what it revealed was
Oblivious, Rita was standing in the middle of the tiny and otherwise
empty holding room. She was no longer the image of a sophisticated
businesswoman. Now she was the very model of a fresh-faced schoolgirl.
She even appeared smaller and younger than Stephanie had remembered.
When Stephanie noticed the freckles dotted across Rita's nose and cheeks,
she laughed out loud. Though muffled somewhat by the intervening door,
it instantly drew Rita's wide-eyed attention.
"You! You did this. You know these aren't my clothes. You gave them
these clothes! They think I'm some...escaped reform school crazy girl.
You have to tell them the truth!" Rita was, by turns, accusatory and
pleading. Stephanie smirked.
"The truth? But you make such a cute little girl." Stephanie grinned
and folded her arms.
"I am not a little girl! Why won't anyone believe me? I am not a
little girl!" Rita screamed as she stamped her foot repeatedly. Finally
becoming aware of the implications of her outburst, she stopped and
stood trembling. A small tear formed and rolled down her right cheek.
"Well, you're certainly acting like one," Stephanie cooed. "Aww, are
Rita pressed against the window, and Stephanie instinctively stepped
back. Rita's eyes caressed Stephanie's outfit. She gazed especially
longingly at the high heels and nylons.
She calmly tried a new tactic.
"Look, you have to let me out of here. I-I have to go to the bathroom.
I do. I really do. Please?"
Rita pulled down at the hem of the jumper and pressed her thighs
together, twisting her feet inward. The illusion of the contrite
schoolgirl made Stephanie laugh again. She knew she was being conned.
"Why should I? You were really rude to me earlier, and now you are
getting a little back. I think it's perfect!" Stephanie was blissfully
"You don't understand. They really think I'm some schoolgirl runaway.
They're coming to get me right now and take me away. And please, I do
have to p-pee -- at least let me out to go do that. I'm sorry I was
rude earlier. I'll do anything you ask. But please, you have to help
me!" Rita was really blubbering now.
Stephanie contemplated the situation. She knew the game was ending.
Reluctantly, she held up the key.
"I'm just letting you out to go to the bathroom. We'll straighten the
rest out when Hal gets back."
"Thank you. Finally, thank you." Rita sounded sincerely grateful.
Stephanie opened the holding room door, and, in a flash, Rita shoved her
into the doorjamb and scrambled past, heading toward the office door.
With sweaty palms, she twisted furiously at the doorknob, but it didn't
In Rita's mind, one twist of the main office door and she would be
practically restored to her adulthood. Downstairs contained an entire
department store of salvation.
"Nooo," Rita cried; the sound of jangling keys caused her to pivot round.
"Locked?" Stephanie stood grinning. "I thought you might try that. I'm
not going to get fired over a little girl like you."
"Stop calling me that and open this damn door!"
Rita swung a slap at Stephanie, but the latter was prepared. She deftly
wrenched Rita's arm into a hammerlock. Noticing the nearby plastic
chair, and feeling she was going to need a bit more freedom of movement,
she had no trouble in shrugging off her jacket and draping it over the
back of the chair. She sat down and heaved Rita across her lap, never
minding that, in the process, her own skirt rode up above her stocking
tops. Rita continued her verbal assaults even as she felt her pleated
skirt pulled all the way up to her waist. She writhed across Stephanie's
nylon-encased thighs until the first swat landed on her panties. The
sound of the slap was suitably impressive in that relatively confined
"Owww!" Rita screamed. "Stop. What the hell are you doing, you bitch?
Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!
"I'm gonna sue you! Just wait till...."
"You're going to do what, little girl?"
Whack! Whack! Whack! Stephanie continued the lesson.
"I'm not a...."
"Ooow! Not a little girl!"
Whack! Whack! Whack!
"Have you looked in a mirror lately?" Stephanie mocked.
Whack! Whack! Whack!
"Lemme up, godammit!"
"Tsk, tsk. Such language. I think these need to come down." Stephanie
effortlessly whisked down Rita's panties. The cool air caressed her
heated, bare bottom.
"Noooo. Please don't!" She attempted to cover her bottom with her free
Stephanie observed the slight outline of a large hand print. "Oooh, such
a pink butt. Looks like somebody's been naughty. Have you been
Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!
"Have you?" Stephanie demanded.
"Yes," Rita answered meekly.
"Yes, what?" Stephanie prodded.
"Yes, I've been naughty," Rita choked out.
Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!
"What are you?" Stephanie barked.
"What?" Rita was nonplussed.
Whack! Whack! Whack!
"What are you?" Stephanie pushed.
"I'm...I'm a naughty little girl!" Rita sobbed. The remnants of her
adult mind faded. Dressed as a schoolgirl and draped over the lap of a
younger woman, she was being soundly spanked. She was no longer the
haughty heiress, teasing men in nightclubs. She was a bare-bottomed
little girl being punished. Images from her past collided in her mind.
Whack! Whack! Whack!
Stephanie was ecstatic. Rita had ceased being just a single snotty
customer and become the surrogate for every arrogant and obnoxious and
self-absorbed narcissist she had encountered in almost three years at
Rita kicked her legs and cried aloud, "Stop it! It hurts! Hurts bad!
Please let me up! Wait, wait, please! Oh, just let me up...please!
I'll be good, I promise!"
She struggled in vain against Stephanie's powerful hold. She began to
Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!
Suddenly Rita squeezed her legs together tightly. Stephanie stopped
in mid-swat. She felt a growing warmth spread across her lap.
Dramatically, she threw Rita off. Rita grimaced and pressed her upper
thighs together, while a small stream of urine trickled down her legs
and soaked her panties. She stood motionless, holding her skirt up,
and quietly sobbing.
Stephanie's lips curled in suppressing a laugh.
"My, my.... And I thought you were a big girl."
The smell began to permeate the stale office air. Stephanie looked down
at her wet lap and blouse.
"Dammit! Come on, let's get cleaned up. Step out of those wet panties."
Stephanie gathered up a handful of paper towels from Hal's desk. In one
quick motion, she wiped up the small pool of pee, along with the
abandoned panties, and deposited the whole mess in the wastebasket.
After unlocking the office door and returning the keys to the desk, she
wrapped her hand around Rita's wrist and led her out into the hallway.
Rita followed numbly. Childhood memories of her mother and "talks" in
the bathroom swam through her already flooded psyche.
After a short walk, they entered the women employees' locker room.
Stephanie parked Rita on a low stool next to the washbasins and tossed
her a warm, wet face cloth.
She commanded, "Clean yourself up!"
Stephanie studied her own clothing in the mirror. There was a large,
distinctive circular stain encompassing her midsection.
Indignant, but thankful that both skirt and blouse were washable, she
stripped them off and placed them in a sink full of soapy water. She
looked down again and groaned. Everything south of her bra was soaked.
So the lingerie went into a second sink.
There was a shower there, but Stephanie wanted to stay out where she
could keep an eye on Rita. So, at a third sink, she proceeded to wash
her face (what little makeup she usually wore was pretty much gone now,
anyway), and then her midriff, crotch, and thighs. Afterward, nude from
the waist down, she searched the locker room, scavenged a towel, and
fashioned herself a skirt. She deliberately put an extra wiggle in her
movements to remind Rita of the differences in their respective bodies.
It worked. Rita's eyes followed her like a cobra watches a mongoose.
Stephanie turned and placed her hands on her hips. A wicked smile
played about her lips as she stared at Rita.
Rita lowered her eyes and shuddered.
The mongoose always wins.
Meanwhile, outside, Joe lit a cigarette and leaned against his usual
spot on the textured wall. He often used this time to reflect on his
decision to leave the army. "What if...." At length, a slight breeze
sent a few leaves scuttling across the deserted parking lot, bringing
him back to reality. He was relieved: there was no silver BMW parked
near the entrance or anywhere else. And yet.... He French-inhaled the
last of the cigarette and dropped the butt, grinding it into the asphalt.
Clenching his fists and stretching his big arms straight out, he twisted
his body from side to side, then tilted his head back, and groaned.
Slowly, he relaxed. He'd been an M.P. -- not a "real" cop, maybe, but
close enough to have a little voice in his gut that whispered warnings
to him when things weren't quite what they seemed. And right now, his
gut was screaming at him. Abruptly, he turned and went back through the
outer door and double-timed for the nearby automated surveillance room.
Rita, mortified, continued to study the tiled floor. Involuntarily, her
buttocks occasionally twitched. She was grateful that her skirt and
shoes were dry, but annoyed at her socks, which felt damp. The cool,
white, almost sterile environment here made her feel particularly
unclean. Above all, though, she was glad to be out of those ghastly
panties, wet with who-knows-what. Even so, her mind was still a-whirl.
Although Stephanie maintained her cool veneer, inwardly she knew she had
acted impulsively. She knew her only real protection was that there were
no witnesses. She could deny everything. She also knew that Rita would
not be quick to acknowledge her infantile regression. Responsibly, her
next action should be to deposit Rita back into the holding room right
away, before Hal or Joe returned. However, she knew a unique opportunity
had been given her.
Stephanie rewound the last few minutes in her mind and pondered them.
As a women's wear salesclerk in an up-scale department store, she had
been expected to subordinate herself to even the most casual whims of her
customers. But spanking Rita had changed that. It had been a catalyst,
focusing all her repressed aggression. She was giddy with her new-found,
intoxicating, addictive power. And she yearned for one more turn of the
screw, though she was still sober enough to realize that her next move
would be a gamble. She turned to the mirror and positioned herself so
that she could watch Rita watching her. She removed the tortoise shell
clip and allowed her hair to fall about her shoulders.
"You really shouldn't be too mad. I mean, it's easy to see why they
thought you were a schoolgirl."
Rita's cowed expression encouraged Stephanie to continue her taunts.
Adjusting her bra, she tugged at the white fabric and slipped her right
hand inside the cup. Her hand was still warm from slapping Rita's
bottom, and her breast absorbed some of that. It was delicious.
She sighed and then continued.
"I mean, you're so small and pale. And, let's be honest, your figure is
not...well, you're not very curvy."
Rita accepted the taunt passively, and Stephanie was further encouraged.
She turned away from the mirror and stood over her. Rita slowly lifted
her eyes from the floor. Barefoot and half-naked, Stephanie was still
intimidating. Her adult figure mocked Rita's immature appearance. Rita
unconsciously crossed her feet.
"Oh, you've ruined your socks. You should have spoken up. Let's take
care of that." Stephanie's tone was distinctly motherly.
She wrapped her hand around Rita's wrist and pulled her from the stool.
The humiliation of her spanking and the shame of her accident still
lingering, Rita obediently followed, unresisting. She hoped that, if
she cooperated, things would get straightened out sooner rather than
later and she could begin putting this whole incident behind her. She
longed to end the charade and, shuffling down the hall, she let her mind
She imagined herself soaking in her whirlpool tub, candlelight glinting
off the marble walls of her bathroom. Lovingly the bubbles would tingle
across her bare body and dissipate the evening's events in a fragrant
mist. She would guide her Egyptian cotton towel softly over the smooth,
clean plains and inviting valleys of her body. Perhaps she would pause
for a moment to pleasure herself. Next, she would meticulously apply her
makeup and arrange her hair in a sophisticated style. Then she would
grandly fling open the double doors of her closet and gaze upon her
extensive wardrobe. Decisively, she would chose the most elegant and
expensive ensemble available....
Suddenly her thoughts were interrupted as she was pushed through a
doorway and into a small, shadowy, light blue room that was illuminated
by a single bright desk lamp.
"Sit down," Stephanie said with emphasis. "Not there. There!" She
pointed to a padded table.
Rita backed to the table and placed her hands behind her on the table's
surface. In her weakened state, she struggled to conquer the waist-high
exam table. Smiling indulgently, Stephanie took hold of Rita's hips and
lifted her the additional four inches onto the salmon-colored pad. Rita
instinctively recoiled in fear, but relaxed as Stephanie shifted her
attention toward the bank of low cabinets. Being boosted onto the table
and left sitting there, high off the floor, combined with the buttery
sensation on her bare, heated bottom made Rita feel childish. Idly, she
pushed down the front of her skirt. She began to swing her legs, but
stopped and mentally rebuked herself for regressing so effortlessly.
For several minutes, Stephanie bustled through the various cabinets
beneath the narrow counter. She emerged, finally, with a small bundle
wrapped in a towel.
"Take off your shoes and socks," she said.
Rita bent her right leg up and onto the table. As she unbuckled her
shoe, she noticed Stephanie was grinning.
"My, my, that looks like a pretty close shave down there. Real smooth."
Stephanie's tone was mocking. "How old are you...really?"
Rita ignored her, turning slightly and tugging at the hem of her jumper.
She pulled off her second shoe and placed it neatly beside the other one.
Methodically, she stripped off her damp knee socks.
Stephanie, refusing to touch the wet garments, and held out a plastic
wastebasket. She then produced a small can of powder and rubbed some of
it onto Rita's calves, caressing them in the process. This
uncharacteristic tenderness and the sweet, familiar smell of the powder
caused Rita to slip into a sensual fog.
"Why don't you lie back, so I can get this better? You don't want to
Rita nodded. She lay back into the soft cushion and wondered fleetingly
about Stephanie's orientation. To her clouded mind, it almost seemed as
though Stephanie was apologizing, and.... Rita closed her eyes.
Stephanie continued to massage Rita's lower legs. Twice her hand strayed
above the knee, causing Rita to breathe in sharply.
Rita suddenly snapped out of her dream as she felt her legs thrust into
the air. In one quick motion, Stephanie had locked her left arm under
Rita's knees and forced her legs upward. Rita's pleated skirt fell back
to her waist. She was completely exposed.
"What the hell are you doing?" Rita shouted.
"Did you think I was a lesbian?" Stephanie laughed.
"Let me go! Please put my legs down."
"Not before we're done. We don't want you to get a rash. Oh, gee,
you're so smooth...baby smooth." Stephanie punctuated her last remark
with an over-generous amount of powder. It cascaded down over Rita's
upturned, wriggling bottom. Stephanie wrapped her arm completely around
Rita's kicking legs.
"Quit it!" Rita cried. Stephanie dropped the can of powder and slapped
Rita's small behind, sending a white cloud airborne.
"Haven't we been down this road already? Be still or I'll use a
hairbrush on your ass!" Stephanie barked.
The pain of Stephanie's hand had previously brought her to tears, so
Rita shuddered at the thought of a hairbrush repeatedly assaulting her
bare butt. She stopped moving, hoping that would satisfy her tormentor.
Stephanie applied additional pressure to the backs of Rita's knees,
lifting her bottom higher into the air and away from the padded table.
Rita heard the crinkle of plastic and felt something soft against the
small of her back. Her legs were allowed to fall back onto the table.
Then, presto! and her smooth crotch was encased in fabric and plastic.
She lifted her head awkwardly and stared at the disposable diaper.
"There, that's much better," Stephanie said sweetly.
Hesitantly, Rita reached down and touched the diaper.
"Why...why did you do that?" she choked out.
"Well, when I first met you, you seemed so grown up, but I think you were
just pretending. And, of course, we don't want any more accidents like
before." Stephanie spoke casually.
Rita sat up on the table. "But I don't need a diaper," she sniffled.
"Oh, really?" Stephanie gestured to her bra and towel ensemble.
"That was just an accident. I'm not wearing this."
Rita started to peel back the adhesive tab, but her hand was twisted
painfully away. For a second, she locked eyes with Stephanie, but then
she lowered her head. She feared another confrontation. Stephanie
relaxed her grip slightly and eased Rita off the table. When her bare
feet met the cold vinyl floor, Rita gasped, and her toes curled. She
shifted her gaze upward again, cautiously, to discover that Stephanie's
cleavage was now at eye level.
"Can we...can we just go back?" Rita stammered. A single tear rolled
down her left cheek. "I want to go home."
Stephanie beamed. This was the moment she had worked toward. She had
realized a fantasy. She had taken an uptight, snotty woman and reduced
her to a whimpering, diapered child. Stephanie was beside herself with
glee. Demanding customers and inconsiderate colleagues would now be on
notice. She embraced this moment of triumph and wished it could last and
last. She knew, however, that Joe or Hal would soon return. Anxious now
to clothe herself, Stephanie tossed a worn, flimsy pair of frilly ankle
socks at Rita. She waited, impatient now, while Rita put on socks and
shoes. Then she began herding the defeated woman back the way they had
The hallway was silent except for the rustle of Rita's diaper, an
unmistakable sound. As they started out toward the security office,
utter humiliation welled up and washed over Rita, and she began to cry.
Down in the surveillance room, Joe replaced the parking lot security tape
with a fresh one. He quickly labeled the old one and pushed it into the
machine they used for viewing. He rewound until he saw it: a silver BMW
parked at the entrance. He fast-forwarded the tape and watched a young
woman in a smart business suit climb into the car and speed away. (The
time was recorded as 8:59.) Moving back and forth through the moment,
he studied the scene, practically pixel by pixel, attempting to extract
anything definite regarding her identity. Unfortunately the camera
failed to show her face very clearly. Then he began rewinding the tape
and checking the scene every time the counter clicked off fifteen minutes
or so. Again and again, he was greeted by the still image of the parked
BMW. At last, however, he reached a point where that parking spot showed
up empty. It was simple then to find the the exact moment of arrival.
Fascinated (and somewhat apprehensive), he watched Rita step out of the
silver BMW. (According to the tape, that was at 6:46.) He played it
over and over, utilizing the equipment's limited enhancement features to
sharpen the image of Rita's face. He shifted back and forth between the
first scene and the last. Upon such close examination, he began to see
slight but definite differences between the two women. He inexorably
concluded that Rita had entered the store, but someone else, dressed in
her clothes, had exited and driven off in her car.
Joe, in a sweat, reached for his radio.
Hal disengaged the alarm bar of the metal security door and pushed it
open. He was greeted by two large figures -- a man and a woman.
"Sorry about this, thanks for coming. I'm Hal Hefner, head of security
"Thank you. I am Ms. Murgess, and this is Stan." She gestured backwards
while she stepping through the door and into the hallway. "Lead the way.
It was reported that the young hoyden was nude, so we came prepared.
Stan has a complete Harrington uniform in his bag...'small size' as we
were told. Stan will follow us at a suitable distance, unless he is
needed. Now, it is getting late."
Hal allowed the heavy door to slam shut. He inserted his key into the
bar and waited for the audible beep that indicated that the door was set.
He smiled at Ms. Murgess and then set off down the long hallway.