Page 14 of Innocence Tamed
“No!” I cried, my hands flying back to cover myself. “Please, don’t!”
Theodore captured my wrists in one large hand, pinning them to the small of my back. “Move your hands again, and I’ll have Mona tie them,” he warned.
I froze, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I pictured myself draped across a man’s lap, my bare bottom on display for his much-too-interested assistant.
“Please,” I sobbed, mortification washing over me in waves. “I said I’d change.”
Theodore’s hand came down hard on my bare flesh, the sting ten times worse without the protection of my skirt and panties. I yelped, tears springing to my eyes.
“I’ll stop when I believe you’ve learned your lesson,” he said, his voice maddeningly calm as he delivered another sharp slap. “Not before.”
The spanking continued relentlessly, each smack setting my bottom ablaze. My awareness of Mona watching, of her eyes on my most private parts as Theodore’s punishment exposed everything, seemed too much to bear. Much, much worse—to my absolute horror, I felt myself growing wet between my legs, my body betraying me with arousal even as my mind recoiled in shame.
“She’s responding quite nicely,” Mona observed, her voice carrying a note of clinical interest that somehow made it all even more humiliating. “Look at how pink her little bottom is getting.”
Theodore’s hand paused, resting on my burning flesh. I felt his fingers shift slightly, moving down to where my thighs met, dangerously close to my exposed sex.
“Indeed,” he murmured. “And she’s quite wet. The perineal sensor must be picking up some interesting readings right now.”
I whimpered at his words, squeezing my eyes shut. The perineal sensor. I’d almost forgotten about the tiny thing Nurse Georges had installed, silently monitoring my body’s responses. Was someone watching those readings somewhere? Could they see how my traitorous body was reacting?
“Please,” I whispered again, my voice breaking. “I’ll change. I’ll do whatever you want.”
Theodore delivered one final, stinging slap before releasing my wrists. “Stand up,” he commanded.
I scrambled to my feet, yanking up my panties and pushing down my skirt, desperate to cover myself. My face felt as hot as my throbbing bottom, tears streaming down my cheeks as I struggled to regain some semblance of dignity.
“Now,” Theodore said, his tone casual, as if he hadn’t just spanked me like a child, “let’s try again. Mona has selected some appropriate lingerie for your shoot. You will put it on here, without argument.”
I nodded, unable to meet his eyes. “Yes, sir,” I whispered, the honorific slipping out unbidden, an artifact from a midwestern childhood.
A small smile curved Theodore’s lips. “Good girl. Now we’re making progress.”
Mona approached with the white lingerie set, holding it out to me. “Let’s get you changed, darling. Your bottom will look very fetching against the white lace.”
Trying hard not to think about what I was doing, I began to unbutton my blouse. I got it off and dropped it on a chair Mona showed me. I stood there shaking in just my bra and skirt, acutely aware of both Theodore and Mona watching me with what seemed more than professional interest.
“The skirt next, darling,” Mona prompted, with a scornful half-smile when I hesitated.
I unzipped the garment and let it fall, stepping out with trembling legs. Now in just my plain cotton bra and panties, I felt horribly exposed. The smooth, freshly waxed skin between my legs felt hypersensitive against the cotton of my underwear.
Bared for my sponsor’s pleasure.I swallowed hard.
“Those too, Audrey,” Mona said, gesturing to my underwear and shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe she had to tell me to take off each article.
My hands shook as I unhooked my bra and slipped it off, then pushed my panties down my legs. I stood naked before them, my arms instinctively crossing over my breasts, my thighs pressed tightly together.
“Arms at your sides,” Theodore instructed.
I dropped my arms slowly, blinking back fresh tears as I stood completely exposed. The air-conditioning raised goosebumps across my skin, my nipples hardening in response—a reaction I prayed they would attribute to the cold rather than the confusing arousal still pulsing through me.
“Very nice,” Mona assessed, circling me. “Small breasts, but nicely shaped. Elegant lines. Good hip-to-waist ratio. And the Brazilian was well done—your pussy looks delightfully innocent. The sponsors will be quite pleased.”
Her casual appraisal of my naked body sent another wave of heat through me—embarrassment mingled with that unwanted, inexplicable arousal. I hated how my body was responding, how some part of me seemed to crave this objectification even as my conscious mind recoiled from it.
“Let’s get you into the garter belt,” she continued, wrapping the lacy band around my waist and fastening it at the back. “This sits here, just above your hips.”
Next came the stockings—sheer white nylon that Mona guided up my legs with practiced hands. I stood motionless as she attached each stocking to the dangling garters, her fingers occasionally brushing against my inner thighs in a way that made me flinch.
