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Old 08-10-2017, 10:14 PM
Chasmo Chasmo is offline
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Default Overexposed -- Part 1

“She’s on the line again Principal Bradley,” came the anxious voice from Sheila Bradley’s intercom, “what do you want me to tell her this time?”

She’s never going to stop calling, the newly appointed principal of Davidson Central Middle School thought to herself as she prepared to respond to her new secretary, Ms. Linda Bertrand. Lori Whiting – Sheila’s predecessor as the school’s top administrator -- had warned her about this woman but Sheila Rudolph Bradley had never imagined it would be this bad.

“She sounds more upset than usual,” Ms. Bertrand’s voice continued, this time with more than a hint of trepidation in it, “and I should know.”

Before joining the staff of Central’s “Office of the Principal,” Linda Bertrand had been the executive assistant to the now agitated caller – a woman who she feared even more than she despised. It was Ms. Bertrand’s unceremonious firing by the woman now on hold -- for “not presenting herself in a professional manner” -- that had resulted in her having to take the much lower paying but mercifully more humane position in the public school system.

“Put her through,” answered a resigned Principal Bradley, “I can only imagine what she’s on the warpath about now.”

The “she” is question was Danielle Marie Parnell, the soon-to-be 46 year-old mother of two students presently at the school, Anna and Maria. Fourteen year-old Anna was nearing the end of her tenure at Central and about to head off to a very fancy private high school north of Baltimore. Twelve year-old Maria was just about to finish her first year at the affluent suburb’s middle school but, sadly for Sheila Bradley, she and her mother would be around for at least two more years.

Rumor had it that Lori Whiting had taken early retirement in no small part to avoid the officious Mrs. Parnell who, like many an early 21st century Tiger Mother, was the first to call the school with a complaint, loudest to criticize any teacher or administrator who challenged the imperious diva’s assessment of her perfect children and least hesitant to take any perceived affront to those children “to the highest level.”

* * *

“What is this cow waiting for,” Danielle Parnell stewed to herself as she waited to be put through to Central Middle School’s new principal, “does this woman have no idea who I am.”

The gorgeous mother of three – whose oldest child Will was soon to be a junior at the prestigious Gonzaga High School in Washington, D.C. -- was making the call form the opulent bathroom of her South River facing manse while preparing for another day as the managing partner of SmythKnight, one of the world’s largest and most influential law firms that was based squarely at the foot of Capitol Hill.

As she waited impatiently, the imperious uber-MILF looked almost lustfully at the vision she loved the most – her own reflection in the mirror staring back at her. With a body better than most women half her age -- kept perfectly toned by her ruthless dedication to fitness – and a face that she often described (accurately but without a hint of modesty) as the perfect combination of Miranda Kerr and Kerri Russel, Danielle Marie Parnell was truly a vision.

At the office she wore only the finest of fashions be they body hugging power suits or the snuggest of suede slacks. Her outfits were always “appropriate” – one of her favorite words – but never failed to accentuate her magnificently aerobicized ass or her pert, ample bosom. There was no room into which she’d walk where every male head would not turn. She was, in her view, and that of most any man, physical perfection personified.

The problem was she knew it and, more troubling to those around her, she loved to lord it over the likes of the pathetic Linda Bertrand and that newly installed puppet Sheila Bradley. It was bad enough that Danielle had to tolerate Sheila’s portly daughter Jessica as a “partner” in her law firm. That she was now on hold awaiting that stuffed sausage’s mother was infuriating her. She laughed inwardly as she thought of all the times she left Jessica Bradley and the other useless women at her firm and elsewhere humiliated as their husbands, sons and boyfriends abandoned any thought of them in Mrs. Parnell’s splendiferous presence. She couldn’t figure out in her brilliant mind which of them was more pathetic, the unworthy men who wanted to see her or their pedestrian mates who all wanted to be her – and she couldn’t care less – they’re all such peasants.

* * *

At last the voice of Principal Bradley came on the line snapping Danielle from her reverie and instantly releasing upon the unsuspecting administrator Mrs. Parnell’s latest tirade.

“How I can I help you today Mrs. Parnell,” Mrs. Bradley asked with the patience she had learned over thirty plus years dealing with parents.

“Well you could start by not keeping me waiting for ten minutes,” Danielle snipped, “but seeing as how that ship has sailed perhaps you can explain to me why my daughter Anna was texted a most inappropriate image by – and of – one of the horny little perverts of whom you’re in charge. I thought you had this disgusting behavior under control.”

“Now Mrs. Parnell . . .,” Sheila Bradley interjected.

“Don’t you ‘now Mrs. Parnell’ me you weak-willed excuse for a gate keeper. If I didn’t need to keep Maria at this school for another two years I would wash my hands of this nonsense but seeing as how she seems to insist on being with her friends for until high school I guess I have no choice.”

“Danielle, please,” the pained principal tried again.

“It’s Mrs. Parnell to you Bradley,” Danielle interrupted, “and because you’re clearly doing nothing on your own to stop this nonsense you’re at the very least going to arrange a parents’ meeting so those of us who want to protect our children from these adolescent exhibitionists and voyeurs can discuss how to address the problem.”

“Mrs. Parnell,” Sheila Bradley calmly continued, “I realize that you’re upset but as you just suggested problems like this really begin with parents and are not all that easy for the school to control.”

It was the break that Danielle had been waiting for and for which she had all along been planning to close the trap on the elder Mrs. Bradley.

“How right you are, Sheila,” Danielle practically purred into the phone, “this problem does begin with parents and their general lack of discipline in respect of their entitled little children. Why am I not surprised then that the first instance of these – nary I mention them – dick pics -- involved your grandson sending them to some poor unsuspecting girl less than five years ago. Perhaps if your overstuffed daughter had put him over her knee, or you her, this all could have been avoided.”

Embarrassed by her grandson’s horrible judgement along with that of his mother, Sheila Bradley blanched.

“I don’t think corporal punishment is the answer Mrs. Parnell,” Sheila weekly defended herself.

“Of course you don’t, Sheila,” Danielle mocked, “what kind of card carrying union member liberal would ever support such a thing. Well from where I sit there is nothing that the little pig deserves more than a good spanking – other than perhaps a night in jail.”

Knowing there was naught left to say in her defense, and wanting this call desperately to be over, Sheila Harris willingly gave Mrs. Parnell the benefit of the bargain the alpha-lawyer was seeking.

“I’ll arrange a meeting for parents and students alike later this week Mrs. Parnell where, as you say, you’ll have a chance to take things into your own hands. Is there anything specific I should say you’ll be addressing.”

“Phone etiquette is what I’ll be discussing, Sheila,” Danielle arrogantly proclaimed, “the appropriate use of photos on social media to be exact. I’ll bring my daughter’s phone as an example. I assure you it contains none of the prepubescent nonsense that most of these little beasts are carrying around. All I need from you is a wireless projector so that I can share with these little miscreants and their hillbilly parents an example of the propriety that has clearly gone missing in today’s society.”
* * *

“Why are doing this to me mother . . . why,” Anna Parnell asked in vain, “you’re going to humiliate me in front of all my friends.”

“You quiet down this instant young lady,” came the stern rebuke from Danielle as she drove with her daughter to the parent-teacher meeting she had brow beaten Sheila Harris into calling, “the only people who will be humiliated are those perverted little animals in your class and their irresponsible parents. To think I’m forced to waste my time to show them how to exhibit proper social media etiquette is disgraceful – as are they!”

“But mom,” pleaded Anna, “why do we have to use my iPhone as an example?”

“Because Anna – thanks to good parenting – it’s a perfect example of how to use social media to profile one’s interests and hobbies in a productive manner,” her mother haughtily responded, “now that’s quite enough out of you.”

Anna Parnell was mortified. It was bad enough that her martinet of a mother insisted that they each have the same phone – a rose gold iPhone 7 Plus – but that Danielle also insisted that her finger print be able to access Anna’s phone made the 14-year old feel like a little kid. The reason Anna’s phone had nothing but pictures of horses from her riding lessons and school band rehearsals was that her mother’s limitless access made it very perilous to post anything else. That fact, combined with Danielle’s constant policing of her daughter’s texts and e-mails and the requirement that she be able to follow her children on any social media platform, had already caused Anna endless teasing by her friends. Having to demonstrate just how sterile her online life was in front of them today was going to really subject the young teen to some – thankfully good-natured – ribbing.

“Let’s go,” barked Danielle as she eased her brand new Mercedes convertible into a spot marked “Reserved: PTA President.”

“We can’t park here mom,” objected Anna, “Mrs. Miras is the PTA President and I know she’ll be at this meeting.”

“Well then that little Hobbit will just have to find another spot now won’t she. I don’t have time to waste driving around some junior high school parking lot just to end up where any workaday teacher or, worse yet, some half-witted cow like Linda Bertrand, can put a ding in my one-hundred-twenty-five-thousand dollar Mercedes.”

Knowing it wasn’t worth the fight, Anna Parnell stepped out from the passenger side of the car while her mother exited from the driver’s side. And what an exit it was. As Danielle stepped from her car the neck of every man and boy within view immediately snapped to take in the scene.

Always one to make an impression, Mrs. Parnell on this day was wearing on her perfectly formed feet a pair of black leather 5” Christian Louboutin Alti Spike pumps. From her bare sculpted ankles upward the preening uber-MILF had outfitted herself in a pair of skin-tight black leather Lanvin leggings. The obscenely expensive $2700 pants profiled peerlessly the perfection that was her undeniably fabulous ass, carved as if from marble.

Up top she sported a short-sleeve black and white checkered Alexander McQueen wrap top. The fashionable silk garment hugged her pert and ample bosom giving her onlookers a tantalizing view of the top of that canyon of cleavage that disappeared beneath the luxurious fabric. The veritable crop top was tied together – its only fastener – immediately above her left hip, permitting any interested viewer, and there were many, a flash of her toned, tanned midsection every time she took a step. Around her supple neck hung a diamond encrusted “D” which acknowledged her to others as Danielle but to her private delight as the Dominatrix. She smiled just thinking about it.

Her thick hair today was flat-ironed straight in order to convey to the cavalcade of nobodies she was about to address the gravity of her concerns. Mrs. Parnell’s gorgeous face was made up exquisitely but in neutral tones broken only by the dark red lipstick that framed her perfectly white teeth. Her emerald eyes were at this point hidden behind her favorite Porsche mirrored aviator shades.

“Keep up,” the suburban sexpot barked at her young daughter as she strutted through the front door of the school, “you’d think you were embarrassed to be seen with me.”

Although that is in fact exactly what young Anna was thinking, what happened next proved the point definitively.

“Well look who we have here Anna,” her mother said mockingly as the now eighteen year old Timothy Bradley – the subject of the original Davidson dick pic scandal some five years before – rounded the hallway corner, “it’s the little pervert who started this disgraceful trend but now he’s all grown up.”

Stunned by the beauty of the woman before him as well as by her stinging rebuke, Tim Bradley stood shocked and slack-jawed looking like a proverbial deer in the headlights.

“Nothing to say have we Mr. Bradley,” Danielle played her advantage loving the humiliation she was heaping on the now admittedly fit and handsome young man.

“It seems you have as little to say today as you once did to show,” she mocked, while Tim and Anna both turned three shades of red, “perhaps if you were more like my son Will and less of a deviant you would have learned your lesson sooner – but I guess you now know that. Well, excuse us Little Timmy, while we go teach a similar lesson to your overstuffed mother and ineffectual grandma.”

Drunk with the delight of emasculating the now humiliated Bradley boy, and especially pleased that his dressing down by her had been witnessed by the growing crowd of students and parents heading to the meeting, Danielle made her way down the hall with a little more sway in her perennially sexy hips. More than one woman – be it mother or student – was forced meekly to watch as her husband or boyfriend was transfixed by wanton lust staring at the diva of Davidson. And Danielle loved it – the losers.
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Old 08-11-2017, 07:02 AM
obo1 obo1 is offline
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What a wonderful surprise! Another episode with the lovely Ms. Parnell, Great to see you writing again.
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Old 08-11-2017, 09:51 AM
hocman hocman is offline
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Agee what a pleasant surprise and as always a great start to Danielle ultimate humiliation.
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Old 08-14-2017, 10:31 PM
Chasmo Chasmo is offline
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Default Overexposed -- Part 2

Walking into the large but crowded science lab, the makeshift arena for her presentation in which parents, teachers and students were sitting cheek to jowel at the twenty four lab stations that lined the room in four rows each six deep, Danielle sensed the concern of the parents over recent events as well as the apprehension of some of the students who were no doubt caught up in this disgraceful behavior. More satisfying to her insatiable ego, however, was that every man and boy present, whether teacher, parent or student was fixated on her beauty as she made her way to the head of the class.

Waiting for the meddlesome mother’s arrival, and prepared to be seated alongside her in front of the one-hundred-fifty or so people in the crowd, were Principal Brady, the nitwitted Linda Bertrand, Jessica Bradley, PTA President Rachel Miras and a representative of the local police force, one Sergeant Lori Heilkamp.

Danielle presented her best false smile on the outside and a mocking one on the inside as she greeted the women each of whom she had belittled in one way or another for years. She took particular delight in the fear she so clearly struck into the hearts of Linda Bertrand and Jess Bradley one of who she had already fired from SmythKnight and the other – although technically Mrs. Parnell’s partner – who clearly served at her pleasure.

The imperious alpha-lawyer likewise flashed a wry smile, more a barely concealed smirk, at Sergeant Heilkamp, having only minutes before trumped the fetching officer during a traffic stop. Danielle and Anna had been pulled over for speeding by the stunning, 5’10” German-American on the way to the meeting. Although the sexy sergeant was more than prepared to give the preening prima donna the ticket she deserved, Lori was shut down by her partner and senior officer, a strapping you lieutenant who was quickly manipulated by the brown haired beauty behind the wheel into letting her off with a mere warning.

“Good afternoon ladies,” Danielle snipped without a hint of kindness or recognition, and then, directing a veritable order to Lori Heilkamp, “why don’t you get this riff-raff settled so we can begin.”

Steaming at the arrogance of Mrs. Parnell, the pretty patrol-woman, with a forced smile on her face, asked that everyone be seated so that the program could begin. In the meantime, as she motioned to Anna to approach her in the front of the classroom, Danielle sifted through the contents of her Louis Vuitton bag to find her daughter’s phone.

“I thought I told you to put your phone in my bag Anna,” Mrs. Parnell scolded the pretty teen.

“I did mom, it should be in there,” the young girl replied, “see there it is, right next to yours.”

Picking up her daughter’s now discovered device, Danielle quickly used her well-manicured thumb to unlock it before tapping on “Photos.” After teeing up a video of the carrot munching George Bailey, Anna’s erstwhile equine companion, the comely counselor handed the phone back to her daughter who she had charged with synching the device to the wireless projector and advancing through the photos and videos -- at Danielle’s command – during the presentation.

As Anna retreated to the back of the room, her mother spied the young girl flashing a smile at that trouble-maker Tim Bradley. It was bad enough, Danielle thought to herself, that the little punk was always hanging around the stables where Anna rode, helping out with the horses and otherwise attending to odd jobs, but this was a bridge too far. Putting aside the fact that Little Timmy was too old for her precious daughter, there was no chance that Danielle Marie Parnell would countenance having Anna cavorting with some shiftless and perverted stable boy. The bothered beauty made a mental note to make that fact very clear to her daughter after the meeting.

Once the crowd had finally been seated, Sheila Harris called the parent-teacher-student meeting to order. As diplomatically as possible, the newly minted principal recounted some of the uncomfortable problems that had arisen due to students’ irresponsible use of social media and, to drive her point home, she acknowledged the attendance of Lori Heilkamp and made it clear that going forward local law enforcement would be involved as necessary.

With that introduction, officer Heilkamp said a few words as did Rachel Miras in her role as the lead liaison between parents and teachers and Jess Bradley, as a parent who had addressed this issue some years before with her son Tim. Finally, and to the waiting men and boys in the room, at last, Principal Harris stood up to introduce the evening’s guest speaker Mrs. Danielle Marie Parnell.

“Parents, teachers and students,” Sheila Harris began, “without further ado, it is my great pleasure and privilege to introduce to you prominent Washington, DC attorney, concerned parent and mother to two of our students Mrs. Danielle Parnell, who will deliver a brief presentation on the appropriate use by students of photos in social media.”

With that introduction, Danielle uncrossed her incredibly toned legs, stood before the gathered crowd and, with an expression that was a cross between disdain for them and pity of them – and with her stare locked firmly on the offensive Tim Bradley – began her presentation.

“As most of you know by now,” Danielle began staring ever more intently at young Master Bradley, “certain boys – the original one of whom is now practically a man – have taken to social media to share prurient, deplorable and perverted images with our children. Most of these images are too lurid to warrant description in proper company but – as the Supreme Court once defined pornography – ‘you know it when you see it.’”

Shifting her stare to the women seated beside her, the domineering diva scornfully continued, “although decorum and our tax dollars tell us that we should be able to rely upon our community’s teachers, parents, PTA leaders and law enforcement professionals to put a stop to this tawdry behavior, experience has sadly shown us otherwise.”

As men and boys alike became aroused at the vituperative vixen’s minimization of the other women present, Danielle continued her screed.

“Perhaps not unexpectedly, it has fallen upon a true leader – one not ashamed of what she has done – to attempt to bring some rationality and civility to our children’s behavior and, what better way to do that, than by example.”

Gesturing to her daughter in the back of the room -- who was secretly hoping the floor would swallow up one or both of her and her arrogant mother – Danielle entreated further, “I’ve asked my daughter Anna to share with you – without need by me or anyone else to cherry pick or edit images in any way – a montage of the photos and videos she keeps on her phone, any and all of which a parent would be delighted to see. Hopefully, when this brief show is complete, it will usher in a more responsible approach by all of you. Anna – if you will.”

As Danielle took her seat and the lights in the room were dimmed, Anna Parnell endeavored to begin the slide show. In the darkness, however, she seemed unable to properly enter her passcode which, to the delight of many of the women in the audience, caused her mother the embarrassment of having to retreat to the back of the room and use her thumb to unlock her daughter’s phone.

At last, as Danielle rejoined the other women up front, the show began. One by one, photos of George Bailey trotting, George Bailey galloping, Anna’s friends at camp and at band practice and Anna and her friends at a birthday party began to flash across the screen causing Anna’s friends to giggle and the poor girl to suffer yet another humiliation brought on by her domineering mother. What surprised
Anna most though was just how few of the pictures she recalled taking.

As the last still shot faded away, the first video began. In it, with a bright blue sky as background, appeared the very fancy stables where the Parnell family boarded Anna’s horse and where the young teen did most of her riding. But rather than staying focused on the trusty old steed emerging from one of the paddocks, the video instead captured and followed a strapping young man, tan and shirtless wearing naught by jeans, cowboy boots and a cowboy hat, hauling a bale of hay from the stables to a waiting pick-up truck – it was Timmy Bradley.

As the gaggle of Anna’s friends, boys and girls alike, began to tease her in the darkness with the likes of, “ooooh Anna,” and “Anna loves Tim,” and the mothers and female teachers in the crowd, who to a one despised Danielle, exchanged comments such as, “not so appropriate after all,” and “I guess she doesn’t have as much control at home as she thinks,” Anna Parnell stared dumbfounded for she had neither seen before nor taken the video on the screen. One of her friends, she angrily surmised, must have grabbed her phone as a joke.

But before she could consider who did it, the silence in the room was broken by an unseen but not completely discernable voice – clearly that of the videographer – saying, “mmmmm . . . mmmmm . . . mmmmm . . . don’t you look yummy little Timmy.”

“Oh my God Anna,” one of her friends screamed from the darkness, “you’re such a perv!”

“It’s not me,” Anna shouted, “I didn’t take that video . . . I don’t even remember taking those pictures.”

But no one in the room believed her. No one, that is, except her mother; because no sooner had the video appeared on the screen than had Danielle realized that she had inadvertently given Anna her phone. The lovely lawyer also realized that she needed to stop this show before that secret – and a much bigger one yet to be revealed – was out. If doing that meant humiliating her daughter in public then so be it.

“Anna Parnell,” Mrs. Parnell boomed as if in court thereby restoring silence again to the room, ”shame on you young lady . . .”
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Old 08-15-2017, 06:32 AM
amfanon amfanon is offline
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As a general principle, plots do not focus on a character unless that character later has a significant role to play. Hopefully, Lori Heilkamp and Danielle get some joint display time.
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Old 08-15-2017, 07:33 AM
Chasmo Chasmo is offline
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I'll say no more for now than this is neither the last nor the most that we shall see of the lovely Sergeant Lori Heilkamp!
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Old 08-18-2017, 10:45 AM
Chasmo Chasmo is offline
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Default Overexposed -- Part 3

“. . . here I am trying to show you to be a paradigm of virtue and propriety -- like me -- and it turns out you're no better than these other shameless children. Now you turn that phone off this instant -- we're going home and you're going to get exactly what's coming to you.”

“But mom, I didn't do it, I swear,” Anna protested as the likes of Jess Bradley, Linda Bertrand and Rachel Miras took no small amount of glee in the embarrassment that the girl's genuinely harmless behavior had brought upon her arrogant tease of a mother.

“I said turn off the phone right now missy,” Danielle stormed again now joined in chorus by her son Will who had come into the room part way through the meeting at his mother's request.

“You heard mom Anna,” the cocky young athlete smirked at his sister as her friends practically swooned at his presence, “turn it off you perv.”

But before the defeated Anna Parnell put her finger on the off switch, a new still image appeared on the screen -- one that exonerated one of the Parnell women present and began the downfall of the other. For as all jaws dropped, men's trousers stretched to the breaking point and smiles grew on the faces of every woman present save one, a very different and far less appropriate Danielle Parnell gazed out at the crowd from the large screen in front of the classroom.

Holding her rose colored iPhone in her bejeweled right hand, the onscreen Mrs. Parnell stood facing a full length mirror in what was a most opulent home dressing room wearing the same Louboutin Alti spike platform heels that her in personam twin had on but otherwise sporting only a tiny black, translucent, lace thong through which one could make out a very sexy landing strip, a matching push-up bra and, around her very supple neck, a 14-carat gold choker from which hung a diamond encrusted “D.” Better yet, the sexy suburbanite’s lips were pursed as if she was blowing her naughty reflection a kiss.

After a moment during which one could have heard a pin drop -- which seemed to Danielle and her gob-smacked children to be an eternity -- the gathered crowd broke spontaneously into a chorus of hoots, hollers and, especially amongst the women present, gut busting laughter.

Mom,” cried out the shocked Will Parnell as he sought to cover up the growing bulge in his gym shorts, “what on earth are you doing?”

But unlike her brother who stood catatonically staring at the image of their scandalously dressed mother, Anna Parnell, who now realized that Danielle had knowingly let her suffer the humiliation of the last few minutes, decide to return the favor.

“Anna Parnell you turn that phone off instantly do you hear me,” roared Danielle as she rose from her chair with far less moral authority than she had commanded just moments before.

And then, realizing that she needed to try to change the narrative, the ordinarily hyper-confident beauty weakly croaked, “that . . . that's not me up there. . .” But the crowd’s laughter only grew louder at her pathetic protest.

“Someone must have doctored that picture,” the humiliated uber-MILF shouted as she tried to make her way past the women she had looked down upon and mocked for so long to get a hold of her phone, “turn it off you stupid girl.”

But smiling devilishly at her mother from the back of the room, Anna did no such thing. Rather, with a swipe of her finger -- curious to see what other naughty secrets her mother might be hiding -- she caused the ribald still shot of her barely dressed mom to transition to a video of a topless Danielle Parnell this time wearing only an obscenely high heeled pair of tacky, fire-engine red, Jessica Simpson brand “cowgirl” boots on her perfect little feet, a sexy straw cowboy hat, from under which pigtails made an appearance, on her normally well-coiffed head, a minuscule silk red thong in the pattern of a classic bandana on her oh so fabulous bottom and an actual bandana around her pretty, tan neck.

What's more, the soon to be far-less-powerful lawyer in the video had clearly set her phone on a counter in her majestic marble bathroom to record, now for posterity, her wanton display. With both hands therefore free she held in her right one a large glass of white wine and in her left a black leather lasso. As she did a turn for herself in the mirror, practically fawning at her scandalously sexy image, the very naughty vixen, for the first time, began to speak to what was clearly an imagined audience of one.

“How'd you lie to hog-tie this little filly stud,” she purred sexily, “what's the matter Timmy . . . don't you think you could handle the ride.”

As the crowd went wild, Danielle's normally facile brain reeled from the humiliation brought on by the outrageous performance of her onscreen doppelgänger. Although she knew she’d never again be able to appear at Davidson Middle School she also realized she needed to end this now in order to contain the collateral damage that this could have on her up to now unblemished professional career. With that in mind the panicked parent began a beeline toward her stunned but laughing daughter to put an end to this humiliating show.

“Not so fast you little hussy,” came the bellowing voice of Jess Bradley who on the one hand saw naught but red at the objectification of her barely 18 year old son by this two-faced, judgmental Jezebel, while on the other was giddy with delight at the haughty tease's downfall.

Suddenly terrified by the ire of the law partner she had berated so many times before, and aware now that she could be professionally as well as personally compromised, Danielle -- as quickly as her towering heels would permit -- sought to escape the infuriated Mrs. Bradley by squeezing between two of the room’s large lab tables. Unfortunately for the fleeing femme fatale, however, and in no small part due to the close quarters created by the large, laughing crowd in the rather small room, as Danielle shimmied by a hysterically guffawing mother and daughter already occupying the space she was seeking to traverse, she bumped into the immovable lab table causing, unbeknownst to her, the hip of her exquisitely expensive leather Lanvin pants to snag on the jagged corner of the ancient desk's metal top.

Thus, as the sexy solicitor continued her purposeful journey toward Anna and escape, her very fashionable, very sexy, very tight leather pants, gaining no release from the massive desk to which they were now attached, were peeled from her fabulous legs and ass like a banana skin leaving the soon to be further mortified mother in only her spiked stilettos, her wrap around Alexander MacQueen blouse -- that tied together a good two inches above her tan, toned waist -- and the merest wisp of a translucent hot pink micro thong that she had ordered online from a tawdry lingerie store and upon which -- across the barely there triangle of silk that covered her most private treasures -- were seven, white, silk embroidered letters, in cursive, reading “Got MILF?”

As she realized too late what had happened and as the crowd went yet wilder with screams of, “pornography . . . you know it when you see it,” and “I guess the true leader is ashamed of what she has done,” the smug look that generally graced Mrs. Parnell’s beautiful face was replaced with a blank, daffy, stare.

How could this day get any more humiliating . . . but then it did.
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Old 09-12-2017, 06:23 PM
Chasmo Chasmo is offline
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Default Overexposed -- Part 4

Apologies for the delay in getting this final part posted. It's getting a bit more difficult each time to find a way properly to give Mrs. Parnell her just desserts. I'll keep on trying but may start to bring the same end to some of the other women in the WMCU universe (namely Nicole Silver and Katherine Wray). In any event, please enjoy.

* * *

Emboldened by the karmic justice being meted out upon the arrogant MILF who not more than twenty minutes earlier had humiliated him, and under cover of the ensuing commotion all around, Timothy Bradley discreetly grabbed the tail end of the knotted blouse covering Mrs. Parnell’s fabulous body and gently gave it a pull.

The resultant unravelling of Danielle’s very fashionable Alexander McQueen top – which at first went unnoticed by the shell-shocked diva as she tried desperately to shield her perfect thong covered ass – unveiled not only the lovely lawyer’s taught and tanned midsection but also the clear fact that she had purchased a very tawdry and cheap pink bra to accompany her naughty neon panties. For as women laughed all the heartier and men got all the harder, the sexy solicitor was left from the waist up in naught but a diaphanous, neon pink, mesh, push-up bra that barely contained her incredibly pert, softball sized tits and each cup of which was emblazoned in white embroidery with the letters “TA.”

In case there was any doubt as to the meaning of said letters, it was erased by the now priapic Will Parnell blurting out, “Oh my God mommy . . . everyone can see . . . your . . . ta-tas!”

As the students and parents howled uncontrollably around her, Anna Parnell couldn’t help but smile at how much she was enjoying the very public comeuppance of her imperious know-it-all of a mother and her arrogant jerk of a brother.

That smile only broadened, however, when – reluctant to let them off the hook so soon – Anna clicked on the next video in her now nearly naked mother’s fancy phone. In place of Danielle’s turn as a topless, cougar, cowgirl, the appreciative audience was now treated to a very tipsy Mrs. Parnell, this time sporting a very short, black, silk robe – open in front to reveal a leopard print thong and bra – a towering pair of black platform heels and her patented diamond “D” hanging around her neck. Again with a glass of wine in her hand – this time red – the tantalizing tease appeared to be rummaging through a drawer in what was a palatial walk in closet.

“William Parnell,” she spoke out loud to herself clearly annoyed, “I think someone’s been stealing mommy’s panties again.”

And then, with a wry smile forming on her fire engine red lips as she rubbed her diamond “D” necklace in her free hand, “perhaps the dominatrix will have to give her little boy another over the knee spanking.”

As the video came to a stop and Danielle’s stupefied gaze locked with her son’s slack-jawed stare, Anna and the rest of the crowd went into an even greater frenzy.

“Who’s the perv now,” the delighted teen joked as her brother appeared to begin hyperventilating.

“Not such a big stud today -- eh Parnell?” came the voice of a young student who Will Parnell had terrorized for years.

“Didn’t you say if I was more like your son Will I’d be less of a social deviant,” Tim Bradley chimed in delighted to be turning the tables on the arrogant Mrs. Parnell and her son.

Equally mortified and aroused by his mother’s disrobing and clearly knocked back on his heels by the accusation leveled at him by her on-screen twin, the stunned soon-to-be former stud stuttered, “M-m-m-mom . . . what are you talking about . . . I would never . . . I mean . . . she’s lying . . . and . . . I don’t get spanked . . . anymore . . .”

But before he could finish his protestations or his mother could weigh in, a quick and deliberate move by Tim Bradley proved unequivocally that Danielle’s suspicions were very well founded. As Will stood stupidly staring at his mortified mother, young Mr. Bradley grabbed the waist band of the buff oarsman’s purple Gonzaga sweatpants and, in one fell swoop, pulled them down to the stammering student’s ankles. But instead of his school issued crew shorts, compression pants or even a purple jockstrap, Will Parnell was revealed to be wearing only a black and white zebra patterned silk thong that he had stolen from his mother’s drawer that very morning. Worse yet, the formerly haughty helmsman stood sporting a raging – although somewhat undersized -- hard-on brought on by both the state of his pink-pantied mother and his own secret joy at the indignity of being found out.

As mother and son were immobilized by their joint undoing, the former red-faced trying at once to cover her perfectly formed bottom and barely constrained boobs while unable to pull her eyes from her son’s obvious show of excitement and the latter too aroused by the discovery of his secret shame and the pulchritude of his humiliated mother to cover himself, the Bradley women, Linda Bertrand and Sergeant Lori Heilkamp all joined the fray.

It was Principal Bradley who spoke first after she and her daughter managed to box the quivering Danielle Parnell between themselves and two of the large lab tables.

“Well, well, well Mrs. Parnell,” Sheila Bradely smiled, “it looks like your reason for demanding this meeting – to protect our children from exhibitionists and voyeurs I think you said – was well founded after all. But something tells me you didn’t expect to be found out to be the biggest of both – video voyeuring my grandson and exhibiting yourself – for shame.”

“And it looks like the only thing overstuffed here today,” Jess Bradley joined in taunting Danielle with the same phrase the little tease had so often thrown at her loving for once that she had leverage over her usually imperious law partner, “is your sl*tty little bra and your son’s – well – panties.”

Trapped between the mother and daughter Bradley, her normally facile mind reeling from her own humiliation as well as that of her once proud son, Danielle reached deep inside herself in an attempt to cow her gloating junior partner who she hoped would respond with customary fear.

“You get out of my way this instant Bradley,” barked the barely dressed barrister, “or, mark my words, your days at SmythKnight are over!”

But as Mrs. Parnell, hoping to have thrown Jessica Bradley off guard with her stern rebuke, attempted to storm past the somewhat portly practitioner, it became quickly evident that ordinarily domineering Danielle had made a major miscalculation.

“Not this time Parnell,” smiled a newly confident Jessica Bradley who never before had addressed Danielle by her last name and who, with her mother’s help, stopped the mortified mother of three in her tracks by forcefully grabbing the smaller woman’s bejeweled wrist.

“Leave me alone you fat cow,” snapped the undone diva in a panic before shouting at her still stupefied son, “Will . . . do something you nitwit . . . help mommy!”

Pulled from the daze of his own demise, Will Parnell attempted to heed his mother’s call without first thinking to pull up the warm-up pants now pooled at his feet. To the further delight of the room’s already appreciative male population, the be-thonged teen’s resulting tumble caused him – in an effort to break his fall – to grab blindly onto the skirt of Officer Lori Heilkamp who was resolutely moving toward the kerfuffle between the terrified Mrs. Parnell and the now quite assertive Jess Bradley.

As another RIIIIIIIPPPPPP!!! echoed through the packed classroom, the statuesque sergeant was parted from her form-fitting blue uniform skirt leaving her in a pair of very high, black, patent leather heels, a tight white dress-uniform blouse that stopped at the very top of her waist, a meter-maid style police cap and the briefest pair of “police blue” thong panties – with a gold badge stenciled on the translucent silk triangle in front – that were most definitely not regulation issued.

“Oh noooo . . . my skirt,” cried Lori Heilkamp with a look of shock and terror replacing her austere gaze of officialdom as students, teachers and parents alike continued to laugh hysterically at the clothing catastrophes continuing to unfold before them.

But despite her own embarrassment and with a more than somewhat lessened aura of authority, the dis-dressed deputy grabbed Will Parnell by the scruff of his polo shirt covered neck and, depositing him on a nearby stool, whisked the young man’s sweat pants clear off him before quickly climbing into them herself. And as Will Parnell – now in only his trainers, a polo shirt and his mother’s thong – attempted to cover his “excitement” piqued by the site of his near naked mother, Lori Heilkamp pulled the handcuffs from the belt that had never left her slender waist and snapping one of them onto the wrist of the befuddled bozo, used her free hand to radio her partner – sitting in a patrol car in the Davidson Central Middle School parking lot – for backup.

In the meantime, while Anna Parnell and the rest of the guffawing daughters and mothers cheered her on, Jessica Bradley Esquire set out to administer her own brand of justice on the oh so pert be-thonged bottom of Will’s mother. Feeling more liberated than she had any time in her professional career, Jess Bradley – with the able assistance of her elated mother and Linda Bertrand – had managed to put her long-time nemesis squarely across the knee of the polyester skirt that Danielle had mocked so many times before.

“You let me go this instant, do you hear me,” protested SmythKnight’s soon to be ex-managing partner while she wildly kicked her legs like the spoiled brat she was a result of which was to send one of her very expensive Christian Louboutin spiked heels flying into the crowd.

“I’ll do no such thing you little tease,” Ms. Bradley shouted as she waived Linda Bertrand over.

“Miss Bertrand,” Jess then asked the smiling secretary, “I believe little Miss MILF here fired you from our firm for . . . what was that offense that you committed?”

“Why Ms. Bradley I was terminated for failing to present the appropriate professional image,” laughed Linda Bertrand loving that tables were for once being turned on Danielle Marie Parnell.

“You can’t fire me Bradley,” shouted Danielle, “I’m . . . I’m . . . I’m the managing partner.”

“Maybe I can’t you stuck up little show-off, but I can – and I will – call a vote of the partners to expel you in light of your violation of the morality clause that you insisted be included in our partnership agreement . . . Dani,” Jess responded calling Mrs. Parnell by a name she knew the defeated diva hated.

“And in light of your behavior here today,” Jess continued, “I’m fairly certain it’s your days at SmythKnight that are numbered not mine.”

As Danielle squirmed, the audience continued to go wild and Lori Heilkamp dragged Will toward what Jess Bradley knew could be the end of her fun, the newly confident counselor unclipped the diamond “D” necklace from around Mrs. Parnell’s supple neck and, after putting it on herself, whispered into Danielle’s ear.

“I’m the dominatrix now you little tart and I’m going to spank this tight ass of yours – that you love so much to flaunt – to pay you back for every time you’ve rolled your eyes at me, called me fat, made fun of my clothes or otherwise been an absolutely intolerable shrew. And if I ever see you as much as looking in my son’s direction again, I’ll strip you completely naked and kick that ass of yours so hard you’ll wish you’d never been born . . . do I make myself clear.”

And then, to the delight of all present, and with a look of abject terror on her once smug face, Danielle Marie Parnell, sounding like a child, squeaked, “yes Miss. Bradley . . . very clear . . . I’m a bad little girl who needs the dominatrix . . . I mean you Mistress . . . to spank my tushy for my completely inappropriate behavior.”

And as Jessica Bradley gladly accommodated that wish . . . raining spank after painful spank down on Danielle’s fabulous ass while the latter managed to kick off her one remaining oh so sexy, oh so grown-up high heeled shoe, Lori Heilkamp clasped the mate to the hand-cuff locked on Will Parnell around the diamond encrusted wrist of his once imperious mother. Then, pulling the literally and figuratively diminished diva to her feet (which caused the flimsy bra holding her “ta-ta’s” in place to fall uselessly to the ground) the powerful police woman marched mother and son out of the classroom, down the school’s long central hallway and out into the parking lot where, having retied her damaged skirt back in place after giving young Will back his warm up pants if not his dignity and outfitting Danielle in an orange “juvenile offender” jumpsuit that made her look much more like the naughty child she was than the haughty alpha-mom who had disdainfully addressed the crowd mere minutes before, Lori Heilkamp came face-to-face with her partner – the young, strapping lieutenant who had been teased by the speeding Danielle earlier in the day into letter her off with only a warning.

As Lori worried that she would once again be overruled, Danielle, in a last ditch attempt to restore some dignity and her freedom, tried again to play the sexpot card that had permitted her to manipulate so many men before.

“Officer, it’s me,” she purred using her most alluring come-hither voice as she pulled down the zipper on her ill-fitting orange jumpsuit in an effort to reveal some cleavage, “it seems there’s been a terrible mistake and I think your partner has . . . again . . . crossed the line.”

But as her former savior’s gaze shifted between this small, disheveled woman in the ridiculous children’s jumpsuit on the one hand and, on the other, his statuesque blonde partner standing tall in her black high heels and hastily repaired skirt that permitted him a view of Lori Heilkamp’s leanly muscled, sexy thigh, the strapping young lieutenant’s response instantly confirmed whose side he was on.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but you must have me confused with someone else, you’re under arrest.”

As the blonde stunner smiled inwardly having triumphed over the once arrogant little tease in her grasp, and as she roughly deposited her two “perps” into the rear of the waiting cruiser, a tow truck was pulling Danielle’s very fancy Mercedes out of the spot into which it had illegally been parked barely an hour earlier.

Before the evening was over Will Parnell had been expelled from Gonzaga High School, the Davidson Municipal Court – where Danielle had sat as a judge on a pro bono basis for years -- had dismissed her from that position and issued temporary restraining order against her requiring – due to her inappropriate, shameful and lewd display – that she keep at least five hundred feet away from all Davidson public schools, the partnership of SmythKnight had held an emergency meeting expelling its once imperious managing partner, and videos of Danielle and Will Parnell’s public stripping – posted by Anna and many others – had gone viral on social media.

The following weekend, as Will Parnell was mowing the Bradley family’s lawn for some extra money now that his allowance was gone, Jess Bradley stared out at the shirtless boy and, smiling, rubbed the diamond “D” now hanging around her neck.
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Old 09-20-2017, 02:35 AM
Roxxy Roxxy is offline
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Damn, they really fell hard this time. I kinda feel bad for will.
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Old 09-22-2017, 08:02 AM
Chasmo Chasmo is offline
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Hey Roxxy -- I was worried I may have gone a bridge too far with poor Will's demise and your comment confirms that may be so. Once we're feeling bad for Will or his mom something has definitely gone sideways (although if you knew his real mom -- trust me -- you'd have no sympathy for her)!

I'll be sensitive to that in the next tale so thanks. I have a few other ideas in store for Danielle but always open to suggestions.
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