Thanks very much. Really glad you liked the story about Danielle and Jerry. Hopefully you enjoyed the other installments as well. It's always great to get feedback from someone who is as prolific as you so thanks again. And I'll see what I can do about the matching underwear . . .

Hey
 

Hey you are very welcome and thank you for looking into that for me

Another awesome story. Your attention to detail especially in her clothing just makes the payoff stripping that much better. I love what you've done with the spanking also, the exchange between Mrs. Parnell and her spanker is awesome. Can't wait to see what you do with Beginners Luck story angle. Our heroine I assume is in for another surprise. As for the male stripping, I could take it or leave it, whatever works for you.

Thanks for awesome story. I still hope, if you in the next story add details how Mrs. Parnell totally strip included her expensive jewellery and it will be great if her expressly strip and humiliate a person much younger her. Maybe in next story you added details that Mrs. Parnell walking back home totally naked.

Thanks to hocman and Frisk for your kind words. Hocman -- completely hear you on the male stripping front. It will likely be more of an occasional than regular occurrence. Hoping to get the BL installment done before Monday. Frisk -- will definitely see I can't work the jewelry into the next piece as well.

Ok, but what with other half? Maybe with jewelry you can work in the next, next story? :)

I'll see what I can do -- always open to suggestions -- thanks again.

I can only hope you have many more of these coming, they just keep getting better and better. Having Danielle spanked by her 18 yr old nephew and possibly getting off on it was brilliant. I would have loved to see the 18 year old girl do the spanking, the thought of a 18yr. exchange student publicly spanking this snob is a huge turn on. Maybe sometime down the road. Another A+ job.

Thanks hocman -- you're far too kind. I'm really glad you liked it because I was getting concerned the quality of the stories was falling off a bit. I have a few more ideas in mind so hopefully we'll see Mrs. Parnell again soon (all of her). Thanks again!

Judge Not, Lest Thee Be Judged . . .
 

The telltale echo of high heels on marble rang through the otherwise quiet halls of The Davidson Municipal Courthouse, calling the attention of the venerable old building’s occupants, especially its men, to a particularly welcome sight. Atop a pair of 4.5" black leather Prada heels, her athletic legs covered from the knee up by a severe black pencil skirt, slit modestly up the back to permit her determined strides and hugging her perfectly shaped ass like a glove, strode the Honorable Mrs. Danielle Parnell.

A wide leather belt wrapped around her toned midsection held fast the bottom of a very tightly fitted, three-quarter sleeve, white-cotton, oxford blouse that itself was covered by a very stylish black half-vest that closed just above the belt's large leather buckle. With its top two buttons undone, and framed by the stylish vest, Mrs. Parnell's crisp shirt highlighted the fabulous swell of her ample 34C breasts. Across the front of her supple neck rested a double strand of white pearls. With her luxurious brown hair up in a tight bun, her perfect nose supporting a pair of black-rimmed cat-eyed glasses that exquisitely framed her emerald eyes and her luscious lips sporting an intense but professional high-red gloss, the 43 year old mother of three looked poised to mete out the day's justice.

For two days each month the powerful Washington, D.C. lawyer, and managing partner of the international law firm SmythKnight, sat as a judge on the local criminal court of the Parnell family's home town of Davidson, Maryland. Being a very affluent, bucolic suburb of the nation's capital, the town was by no means a hotbed of crime which was one of the reasons that its criminal bench was constituted mainly by Washington and Baltimore lawyers who volunteered a day or two each month to hear a litany of petty crimes and misdemeanors.

Although she generally enjoyed the change of pace that serving as a local jurist presented -- particularly insofar as it permitted her to give back to the local community in a productive, professional and appropriate manner -- as Danielle strutted authoritatively towards her chambers this morning, the preening alpha female was particularly looking forward to the day ahead.

Having reviewed day's docket the evening before, Mrs. Parnell noticed that the first case she'd be hearing related to two teenagers caught attempting to abscond with public property. While that fact in-and-of-itself was neither here nor there, that the high school senior transgressors in question were Miranda Ross and Amanda Silver, brought a broad smile to Danielle's beautiful face. The two eighteen year old stunners, co-captains of Davidson High's award winning cheerleading squad and all-around "popular girls," had made life for young Will Parnell, Danielle's 13 year old son and a freshman at Davidson High, a bit of a tough go.

In reality, the girls paid Will no more or less attention than they did any awkward, bookish freshman but, like an elephant, Mrs. Danielle Parnell was not one to forget her offspring's hurt feelings. In her mind and despite Miranda's and Amanda's "crime" being the failed abduction of a rival public high school's mascot -- Billy Goat -- today a mother would exact her son's revenge on the comely co-conspirators -- and Mrs. Parnell could barely wait.

What made the day even better was that Miranda Ross' father -- the strapping Adam Hess -- was scheduled to be the bailiff in Judge Parnell's courtroom. Although Danielle thought no man worthy of even looking in her direction, save grudgingly for her own husband, even she could not deny the attraction of the six-foot-four Hess who, inexplicably in her estimation, had been landed as a husband by Miranda's mother Rebecca Ross.

On more than one occasion Mrs. Parnell had spied Officer Hess ogling her longingly in the court room and, while such adulation was neither unfamiliar to nor unwanted by the imperious diva, she would love nothing more than to take the oafish Adonis to task for it today while at the same time delivering a stinging verdict on his teenage tease of a daughter. That the unworthy Mrs. Ross, an affable, buxom, blonde teacher who was likely also to be in attendance, would be humiliated by the castigation of her husband and daughter would make Danielle's day complete.

In addition to the prospect of mortifying the Hess/Ross clan, Mrs. Parnell saw today's hearing as a chance to publicly denigrate the parenting skills of Amanda Silver's mother Nicole, herself a Washington, D.C. lawyer who would be representing her daughter and the Ross girl at the hearing. Danielle loved the idea of putting the admittedly attractive, fit, red-headed Mrs. Silver -- who dared to see herself as Danielle's professional equal -- in her place. That she could do it essentially by shaming her look-alike, entitled hussy of a daughter made the impending revenge for Will's perceived mistreatment that much sweeter.

With a noticeable spring in her step, and an enhanced sway in her spectacular hips, Mrs. Parnell drank in the stares of the men sizing up her fashionable yet professional appearance as she progressed down the courthouse's spacious central corridor while all but mocking the other women who, to no surprise of Danielle's, seemed to disappear in men's eyes when she was present. As she purposefully marched toward the mahogany door of her chambers, the fetching jurist was confronted by the sight of Mrs. Ross and Mrs. Silver who were clearly waiting nervously for her arrival. Let the games begin, Mrs. Parnell smiled to herself, confident that the mothers of the "accused" were there to curry favor with her based on their all being neighbors.

"Good morning ladies," offered the self-important Danielle with her best false smile, "to what do I owe the honor of your presence here today?"

As the two women uncomfortably exchanged glances, alternatively looking at one another and their own feet, Rebecca Ross sheepishly began, "you may not realize it Danielle . . .”

"Your Honor," interrupted the self-satisfied Mrs. Parnell, "what you mean to say Rebecca is 'you may not realize it Your Honor' . . . but please, go on."

"Um, you may not realize it Your Honor," continued the penitent Mrs. Ross hesitantly, " . . . well, because it's just so hard to believe . . . but my daughter Miranda and Nicole's oldest Amanda are scheduled to come before you today, and . . . well . . ."

"I'm actually quite aware of that fact, Rebecca," intoned Danielle, "and I'm hoping that your raising it here with me isn't an inappropriate, and frankly improper, attempt by you to influence my decision based on the fact that we're neighbors." Staring disdainfully at Nicole Silver the arrogant Mrs. Parnell continued "and you Mrs. Silver -- as an officer of the court -- should know better! I don't know what they taught you at whatever law school you attended -- why don't we simply say 'not-Harvard' -- but ex parte communications with the court are not permitted."

"Frankly ladies, you should both be ashamed of yourselves," glowered the dominating judge, "I know I'm ashamed of you."

"But . . .," began Mrs. Silver, "this was just a harmless prank. They're otherwise very good girls and the repercussions here could be very damaging to them . . . please understand."

"But nothing, Nicole," reprimanded the legal diva, "justice is blind!" As Danielle thought to herself, "not unlike Rebecca's husband," she continued aloud, "and your daughters will be accorded the same treatment before the law -- before me -- as anyone else having committed a similar offense -- my hands are tied. Good day ladies."

And with that, smiling devilishly to herself in satisfaction and sneering at her neighbors in contempt, the imperious Judge Parnell disappeared behind the heavy wooden door that opened into her chambers.

"Can you believe that woman," seethed Rebecca, "she's more concerned with lording her "high station" over us than with dispensing any sort of justice. It's not bad enough that she alternatively teases and chastens my husband at every turn, now she has poor Miranda over a barrel."

Laughing nervously while fearing for her own daughter's fate, Nicole Silver mused, "I'd like to put that little-show off over a barrel." Mocking Danielle's words to her, Nicole quipped to Mrs. Ross, "'my hands are tied' . . . that they most certainly would be you little tramp."

With nothing but bravado and bluster between them, the two crestfallen moms headed into the court room to witness what they were sure would be their daughters' undoing. Unbeknownst to them, it was someone else who would, soon enough, come undone.

In the meantime, Judge Parnell, over the moon with her dominance of the hapless Rebecca and Nicole, reached across the opulent desk that sat resolutely within her wood-paneled office to retrieve the file for the Billy Goat incident. Unfortunately for the almost giddy dispenser of justice, she failed to notice the Starbuck's Venti cappuccino poised precariously on the lip of the large leather blotter protecting the patina of her desk and, pulling the file toward her, managed to spill the nearly full coffee squarely onto her chest and lap. Mercifully, her time spent with her quaking neighbors had permitted the Italian libation to cool thereby sparing Mrs. Parnell a scalding. That said, each of her crisp white shirt, form fitting black skirt and exquisite cotton vest was both soaked and stained. Given that fact, there was no way she could stay in these clothes for the day which created quite a dilemma for the manipulative narcissist.

On the one hand, the good judge Parnell could inform the handsome, if in her estimation oafish, Officer Hess that she would need to continue this morning's cases to a later date thereby allowing her to go home, change and return in time to oversee the afternoon's docket. Of course, that route would cause the hearing of Miranda Ross and Amanda Silver to be pushed off to a later date and likely come before another judge. On the other hand, Mrs. Parnell mused, she could slip out of her wet clothes, don only her black judge's robe over her exquisitely naughty lingerie, sit in judgment of her son's tormentors and then, with no one the wiser and still wearing her robe, head home to change at lunch time. Because the robe came down to mid-calf and had a high white collar sewn into its otherwise crew neck, only Danielle would know that the black garment's thin but opaque fabric was all that separated the likes of the dreamy Adam Hess from seeing her most intimate underthings. As she lustily thought of her own image, the idea continued to gain appeal in her mind.

After all, that morning, like every other, the self-obsessed beauty had carefully selected a particularly sexy ensemble to wear beneath her power suit. Knowing she would be sitting in judgment of the two tarts who had "pantsed" her young son Will in Davidson High's crowded cafeteria had prompted the protective uber mom to embrace the dominatrix inside her.

"No one embarrasses a Parnell like that and gets away with it," she thought vengefully.

Once she finished her morning shower the domineering judge -- with a cheeky grin on her face -- had grabbed the tiniest of black lace thongs from her extensive collection of panties. The sheer triangle of silk fabric that covered its front, which in turn permitted a very careful observer to spy the perfectly manicured landing strip above the preening beauty's sex, was on this particular micro-garment embossed with a small rhinestone skull-and-crossbones.

"Seeing this would certainly make Roger jolly," she had privately joked to herself.

The thong's matching black lace push-up bra was fastened right below the swell of the sexy mother's ample breasts by a rhinestone skull clip that matched the smiling skeleton down below. Mrs. Parnell had completed her look by slowly rolling onto each of her incredibly toned legs a solid black, grey-lace-welt-topped thigh-high stocking and then stepping into her towering Prada heels. Before slipping into her now coffee-stained clothes she had smiled at her sexy reflection, and with her hands on her nearly bare hips cooed to herself, " you really are guilty aren't you beautiful."

Three quick raps on the door separating her chambers from the court room snapped the self-absorbed judge from her erotic reverie.

"They're ready for you Your Honor," came the husky voice of Adam Hess through the door.

"Let them wait," Danielle responded sharply, "I need another few moments."

"Of course Your Honor," replied the bailiff, "anything you say."

Having doffed her skirt, blouse, belt and vest, and standing in her office in only in her heels, thigh highs, jewelry, glasses and mouth-watering lingerie, the imperious Judge Parnell laughed to herself, "what I say Officer Hess . . . is that you can stare all you want out there but you'll never . . . ever . . . see me looking like this -- you dime-store cop -- what a loser."

After slipping into her black judge's robe, zipping it up the front and fastening the high white collar around her supple neck, Mrs. Danielle Parnell -- Her Honor -- unlocked the mahogany door separating her office from the courtroom and marched forcefully towards the bench.

"All rise," bellowed Officer Adam Hess, having no idea the double meaning his command would soon take on.

As she ascended the three wooden steps from the courtroom's floor to the platform behind the grand, turn-of-the century mahogany bench from which she presided, Mrs. Parnell took in the composition of the assembled citizenry gathered to witness the hearing. At the defendant's table, along with their counsel -- Mrs. Nicole Silver herself -- sat the comely Amanda Silver and equally fetching Miranda Ross. No doubt under the false impression when she got dressed that morning that the judge would be older -- and male -- each girl looked the perfect temptress for an aging pervert. Wearing black knee-high, high-heeled suede boots, black tights and a brown tartan plaid skirt that barely covered her pert bottom, the red-headed Amanda had also donned a tight, beige, v-neck cotton sweater that showed to full effect the fantastic rack that her mother's genetics had been kind enough to bestow upon her. Miranda Ross on the other hand was sporting a pair of fire engine red 5" platform pumps along with jeggings so tight they could have been painted on. With her lustrous blonde mane in a braided pony tail hanging over the back of her skin tight, black, turtle neck sweater, it was clear that she too had inherited her own mom's ample bosom.

"Showy little trollops," thought Danielle, "your whorish outfits will brook you no solace with me."

Looking next to the District Attorney's table, Danielle rolled her eyes at the sight of the frumpy Emma Duncan. A part-time local lawyer and practically a full-time den mother, story-time reader, tutor and other pass-times looked down upon by Mrs. Parnell, the kind, intelligent but somewhat disheveled Mrs. Duncan -- whose ill-fitting suit and comfortable shoes contained nary a natural fiber, had suffered more than her share of derision from the bench when Mrs. Parnell was the presiding judge. Unaware of the judge's plans, Mrs. Duncan braced herself for further humiliation.

The courtroom was otherwise populated by parents, including Mrs. Ross and Amanda's father Julian, teachers -- including that Hobbit of a woman Rachel Miras and the rotund Davidson Middle School Principal Lori Whiting -- and, sitting together to provide Miranda and Amanda with moral support, the balance of the seniors on the Davidson High School cheerleading squad as well as the school's ruggedly handsome 18 year old quarterback, and Amanda Silver's boyfriend, Dylan Forseth.

"One look at what I've got on under this robe Mr. Forseth and you'd forget these silly cheerleaders ever existed," thought the judge, ever confident in her power over men.

Sitting down to begin the trial, the self-satisfied Mrs. Danielle Parnell paid no heed to the condition of the judge's chair supporting her. As a general matter, she would have Officer Hess bring a private chair from her chambers into the court room and place it on the platform behind the massive bench. Today, however, caught up in the erotic musings of her present fashion choice, she had neglected so to direct the macho bailiff and, as a result, would be sitting in the comfortable but somewhat dilapidated chair of Judge Robert Ericson, an ancient but affable lawyer from Baltimore who, like Danielle, periodically presided over his town's local criminal bench. What neither Judge Parnell nor any one there assembled could yet know is that an exposed tack at the back of that chair, which the crusty Judge Ericson had been meaning to fix for weeks, would soon become a critical player in the day's tale.

Once Officer Adam Hess formally declared court to be in session, the short trial of the young cheerleaders began. District Attorney Duncan put on her case, including CCTV footage of the girls trying to lure Billy Goat into their car and the testimony of two broken up Annapolis High students who swore to the deleterious impact that the near abduction had on the psyche of the small, frightened mammal. After Mrs. Duncan rested her case, and in order to prolong the wait of her son's young manipulators -- Judge Parnell declared a ten minute recess.

To the baritone call of "all rise" trumpeted by Adam Hess, everyone in the courtroom stood as Danielle got up to head back to her chambers. Had she not been so focused on revenge, the lovely lawyer may have noticed a slight pull on the back of her robe. Alas, she did not, and in any event the pull itself was of no moment as Mrs. Parnell descended the stairs, withdrew her key from the robe's side pocket, unlocked the imposing door to her inner sanctum and slid safely inside the confines of her chambers for a brief ten minute break. Making some notes to herself about advocating the hiring of a new D.A., the comely counselor absentmindedly left the door key to her chambers -- which locked when it closed behind her -- on her imposing nineteenth century desk.

With the brief recess over, and beckoned back to work by the voice of Miranda's father, Danielle again climbed the three stairs up to her chair to prepare to hear the girls' side of the story as Nicole Silver, Esquire took to the floor in their defense. Mrs. Silver was a fine a lawyer and, with her own child's future -- well at least her odds of getting into a good college -- at stake, she made a particularly strong, well-articulated and passionate case for why the failed abduction of a goat should be seen for the bungled prank it was rather than as a misdemeanor that in turn could really hurt Miranda and Amanda at what was a critical time in their lives.

In the court of the assembled public's opinion, if not the court of Judge Parnell, when Nicole Y. Silver rested her case it seemed the verdict could only go the way of her clients. Yet, despite the elegant Mrs. Silver's eloquence, notwithstanding the power of her reasoning or the logic of her well-staked out position, her oratory talents would be wasted this day. In fact, Oliver Wendell Holmes himself could not have swayed the judgment that the Honorable Danielle Parnell was about to render.

After Mrs. Silver was seated and looking literally and figuratively down upon the faces sitting before her in the Davidson courthouse, Mrs. Danielle Parnell authoritatively began, "before I render my judgment in this case, there a number of related matters that I'd like to call to your collective attention as citizens of this community."

Having carefully prepared her remarks, and plotted their timing so as to heighten the humiliation of the defendants and their families, the preening diva continued, "the issues I'm going to discuss trouble me and I think, once I've shared them, will trouble you too. They're matters that if left unaddressed can begin to fray the fabric of communities like Davidson and, ultimately, steal from us the charm of our town."

Glaring at Miranda and Amanda, Judge Parnell proceeded deliberately, "first -- and ladies let there be no mistake that this comment is directed squarely at the two of you -- women needn't dress like pop-stars or calendar girls to gain the respect or admiration of others. Ms. Silver -- do you think the way you're dressed -- or should I say undressed -- today is appropriate?"

As some of the older members of the audience nodded along with the judges' critique and the young girl began to squirm uncomfortably, Danielle played her advantage aggressively, "your skirt is shockingly short and your sweater barely covers your chest -- for shame Amanda, for shame."

While Amanda, turning red, covered her slightly exposed cleavage with her hand, the judge dug in to Miranda Ross, " and you Ms. Ross -- I can't imagine how you can breathe or walk in those pants they're so tight. And those heels must be 5" high and look not the least bit professional -- save for maybe a job in the world's oldest profession. To think that you're comfortable wearing such clothes in front of your own father is not merely inappropriate, it's disgraceful."

Glancing over at the girls' already mortified mothers, Danielle fixed on the next targets for her derision.

"But the fault doesn't lie completely with you two," Judge Parnell piously continued lecturing the young ladies. "The behavior of your mothers earlier today -- their approaching me outside proper legal channels in an attempt to leverage our being neighbors into a more lenient judgment by me of your case rather than relying on the law. That's the very type of behavior that, again, undercuts the sanctity of this community. It's the type of entitlement that passed down from their generation to yours, conveys a message, for example, that you can dress any way you want -- no matter how inappropriate that may be."

Almost drunk with her own power, but before going in for the kill, Mrs. Parnell, looking this time at the forlorn Adam Hess who had already witnessed both his wife's and daughter's humiliation, took one more swing, "it's bad enough that I have to endure the licentious glances of some of the men in this courtroom. But to think that you ladies, and your mothers, teachers and administrators not only lack the self-respect to challenge cronyism, sexism and misogyny but instead perpetuate it -- well -- it genuinely breaks my heart and gives me concern for the future of our town."

Smiling mischievously at Amanda's young but handsome boyfriend, Mrs. Parnell concluded, "what's a nice young man like Mr. Forseth to make of all this as he tries to navigate his future. For what it's worth young man, you have my apologies for the behavior of your classmates."

As the blood of the women she had just publicly humiliated boiled, and the blood of the men watching the sexy but domineering judge debase those women flooded immediately below their waists, the triumphant Judge Parnell, thrilled that she was about to completely avenge her young son Will, finally read her ruling.

"Miranda Ross and Amanda Silver, for the crime of attempted robbery, a Class I misdemeanor, I hereby find you guilty. In addition to a $500 fine to be paid today, you will each be required to spend this evening in the county lockup so that you can reflect on your behavior and, thereafter, to perform 250 hours each of community service. This court is now adjourned."

The punishment imposed upon the girls was the maximum permitted by law and far harsher than what had been requested by D.A. Duncan. As Rebecca Ross and Nicole Silver embraced their weeping daughters who had been depicted both as two-bit floozies and common street criminals by the pompous Judge Parnell, Adam Hess -- who himself felt completely emasculated -- again sounded his call to order -- "all rise."

What happened next would be long remembered as the day Karma meted out its justice in Davidson, Maryland. Pushing herself up forcefully from old Judge Ericson's high-backed chair, her voracious ego satisfied by the humiliation she had wrought upon her son's shamed antagonists, Mrs. Parnell again failed to notice the pull on the back of her robe. This time, however, the creaky chair's tack held fast to the preening prima donna's high-necked frock and, as she purposefully walked across the small platform to descend the three steps to the courtroom floor, a delicious scene began to unfold.

While the assembled group of Davidson's citizens looked on, the heavy chair appeared for a moment to follow the gorgeous if arrogant judge behind the bench. But, as the determined jurist began to descend from her high perch, the chair's pursuit came to an abrupt stop against the immovable bench. The resulting effect of that action -- namely that the Honorable Judge Parnell's august robe pulled suddenly and tightly against her -- would be the cause of the next -- a stumble by the pompous diva down three rickety wooden steps. As a few laughs were heard -- mainly from the cheerleaders who were happy to see the arrogant uber-MILF have her own awkward encounter -- Officer Hess leaped into action.

"I've got you Your Honor," called out the dutiful bailiff moving quickly enough to intercept the judge's fall.

But despite both Adam Hess' considerable strength and the spectacularly fit 5'3" beauty weighing barely 100 pounds, Danielle's momentum caused the conscientious officer to retreat a step or two as he caught her. And what a retreat it was. With the old chair's tack unwilling to release its prey, and to an accompanying RIIIIIIIIIIIIIP!!!! that could be heard throughout the cavernous building, the Honorable Danielle Parnell, now held fast buy the sinewy arms of Miranda Ross' father, had been – most ironically -- dis-robed!

What's more, and to the stunned shock of everyone present, Judge Parnell was revealed not in the fashionable power suit that had turned men's heads and stirred women's ire earlier that morning, but in her 4.5" heels, opaque black thigh-high grey-lace welted stockings, tiny, lacy, Jolly Roger bedazzled black thong, matching black push-up bra -- complete with its rhinestone skull clasp -- and black-framed cat-eye glasses.

As the courtroom erupted into a cacophonous mix of howling laughter, wolf-whistles, shock and applause, Danielle's ordinarily facile mind shifted into an overdrive of humiliation. What had just happened? Why were these nobodies pointing at her -- at her -- and laughing? This was her courtroom; she was in charge, not them. Why was Officer Hess holding her? And then . . . as clarity slowly set in . . . the once imperious alpha lawyer realized her state of undress.

"Oh my God, I'm practically naked," she shrieked, causing the already frenzied crowd to guffaw even more heartily. As every man in the room groaned with delight at the fantastic display before them, and the women celebrated the comeuppance of the once dignified show-off, Danielle sought a way out from her mortification.

"Get me out of here NOW you idiot," she screamed at the stunned Adam Hess.

"Um . . . ah . . . but . . .," stammered the bailiff equally shocked and aroused by the sight before him.

Realizing that her only potential ally had been rendered inert, and alternatively trying with flailing hands to cover her barely concealed crotch, fully exposed ass and tits on the verge of escaping their flimsy confines, Mrs. Parnell made a bee-line for her chambers door only to remember as she tried the immovable handle that she had left her silver key inside.

"Get back here you little tease," came the powerful voice of the suddenly confident D.A. Emma Duncan who, in passing the shell-shocked officer Hess had managed to unhook the handcuffs from his belt, "you're under arrest for public indecency."

As the disgraced and confused former justice attempted to evade the clutches of the determined Mrs. Duncan, she came face-to-face with the two mother-and-daughter teams who only moments before she had herself humiliated.

"Nicole . . . Rebecca . . . please . . . help me . . . we're neighbors," rambled Mrs. Parnell as her meltdown continued.

"I'm so sorry . . . Your Honor . . .," smiled Nicole Silver, "but it would be inappropriate for us to attempt to use our relationship as neighbors to mitigate whatever punishment may be in store for you. After all, I am an officer of the court."

Rebecca Ross, now smiling from ear to ear joined in, "we wouldn't want the fabric of our community to fray now would we . . . Danielle . . . at least not any more than it already has."

"But . . . I . . . I . . .," stammered the once authoritative attorney. But before she could utter another word, she felt two soft but small hands grab the waist band of her tiny thong from behind before whisking it down to her Prada encased ankles. As Miranda Ross snapped a picture of the undone narcissist, Amanda Silver -- who had pantsed the disgraced diva, joyfully proclaimed, "hey look, like mother, like son."

And with that, Emma Duncan slapped Officer Hess' handcuffs on the slender wrists of Mrs. Danielle Parnell and, cupping the sexy solicitor's firm ass in her own pudgy hand while surreptitiously sliding her finger along the alpha mom's glistening sex, the shock of which caused Mrs. Parnell's cat-eyed glasses to slip from her perfect nose to the floor, whispered into the judge's ear, "you really are guilty aren't you beautiful."

excellent chapter again,love this character,can't wait to see what else you have in store for this hapless beauty.

Amazing, how you are able to produce such quality stories in short order. Mrs. Parnell got her due comeuppance again. The setting and the characters were first rate. For me personally the payoff to her stripping is always a well deserved public spanking, but hey I'm not complaining, just my taste. Love what you implied at the end. Can't wait for the next one. Maybe those two 18 year olds can exact some more revenge and I do love Mrs. Nicole Silver, sounds like a more they worthy adversary..

Thanks hocman -- and thanks Dr. V. I'm glad you're both continuing to enjoy Danielle's adventures.

I had actually thought to work a good sound spanking for our heroine into this story but was afraid it was turning into a bit of an epic. I may play around with it and release a second version with a slightly revised ending (pun intended).

As for Mrs. Silver she -- like Mrs. Parnell -- is modeled on a friend of mine. I've been trying to think of a situation that could find the two of them, although not allies themselves, undone together to the delight of women who find both of them unbearable. We'll see where that one goes. Thanks again.

Love the "pun intended", your last revised story was awesome, look forward to it and Mrs. Silver.

BTW I do remember the incident of the Mother losing her skirt at some scout or school function. That seems to have set off these wonderful stories, so a belated thank you to that mom wherever she may be, :)

Very much looking forward to that! Reminds me a lot of the stories by Obo, who was one of my favorite authors.

Maybe in next story Mrs. Danielle Parnell can lose jewellery if she plays poker and lose everything, for example she can play with her children friends.

Judge Not -- Version 2.0
 

The original intent of this story was to have it end with a spanking for our heroine. To that end (again, pun intended), I've cleaned it up a bit and added a revised conclusion. Although much of it remains the same, I hope you enjoy the new ending. Hoping to get another (new) installment up soon.

The telltale echo of high heels on marble rang through the otherwise quiet halls of The Davidson Municipal Courthouse, calling the attention of the venerable old building’s occupants, especially its men, to a particularly welcome sight. Atop a pair of 4.5" black leather Prada heels, her athletic legs covered from the knee up by a severe black pencil skirt, slit modestly up the back to permit her determined strides and hugging her perfectly shaped ass like a glove, strode the Honorable Mrs. Danielle Parnell.

A wide leather belt wrapped around her toned midsection held fast the bottom of a very tightly fitted, three-quarter sleeve, white-cotton, oxford blouse that itself was covered by a very stylish black half-vest that closed just above the belt's large leather buckle. With its top two buttons undone, and framed by the stylish vest, Mrs. Parnell's crisp shirt highlighted the fabulous swell of her ample 34C breasts. Across the front of her supple neck rested a double strand of white pearls. With her luxurious brown hair up in a tight bun, her perfect nose supporting a pair of black-rimmed cat-eyed glasses that exquisitely framed her emerald eyes and her luscious lips sporting an intense but professional high-red gloss, the 43 year old mother of three looked poised to mete out the day's justice.

For two days each month the powerful Washington, D.C. lawyer, and managing partner of the international law firm SmythKnight, sat as a judge on the local criminal court of the Parnell family's home town of Davidson, Maryland. Being a very affluent, bucolic suburb of the nation's capital, the town was by no means a hotbed of crime which was one of the reasons that its criminal bench was constituted mainly by Washington and Baltimore lawyers who volunteered a day or two each month to hear a litany of petty crimes and misdemeanors.

Although she generally enjoyed the change of pace that serving as a local jurist presented -- particularly insofar as it permitted her to give back to the local community in a productive, professional and appropriate manner -- as Danielle strutted authoritatively towards her chambers this morning, the preening alpha female was particularly looking forward to the day ahead.

Having reviewed day's docket the evening before, Mrs. Parnell noticed that the first case she'd be hearing related to two teenagers caught attempting to abscond with public property. While that fact in-and-of-itself was neither here nor there, that the high school senior transgressors in question were Miranda Ross and Amanda Silver, brought a broad smile to Danielle's beautiful face. The two eighteen year old stunners, co-captains of Davidson High's award winning cheerleading squad and all-around "popular girls," had made life for young Will Parnell, Danielle's 13 year old son and a freshman at Davidson High, a bit of a tough go. In reality, the girls paid Will no more or less attention than they did any awkward, bookish freshman but, like an elephant, Mrs. Danielle Parnell was not one to forget her offspring's hurt feelings. In her mind and despite Miranda's and Amanda's "crime" being the failed abduction of a rival public high school's mascot -- Billy Goat -- today a mother would exact her son's revenge on the comely co-conspirators -- and Mrs. Parnell could barely wait.

What made the day even better was that Miranda Ross' father -- the strapping Adam Hess -- was scheduled to be the bailiff in Judge Parnell's courtroom. Although Danielle thought no man worthy of even looking in her direction, save grudgingly for her own husband, even she could not deny the attraction of the six-foot-four Hess who, inexplicably in her estimation, had been landed as a husband by Miranda's mother Rebecca Ross.

On more than one occasion Mrs. Parnell had spied Officer Hess ogling her longingly in the court room and, while such adulation was neither unfamiliar to nor unwanted by the imperious diva, she would love nothing more than to take the oafish Adonis to task for it today while at the same time delivering a stinging verdict on his teenage tease of a daughter. That the unworthy Mrs. Ross, an affable, buxom, blonde teacher who was likely also to be in attendance, would be humiliated by the castigation of her husband and daughter would make Danielle's day complete.

In addition to the prospect of mortifying the Hess/Ross clan, Mrs. Parnell saw today's hearing as a chance to publicly denigrate the parenting skills of Amanda Silver's mother Nicole, herself a Washington, D.C. lawyer who would be representing her daughter and the Ross girl at the hearing. Danielle loved the idea of putting the admittedly attractive, fit, red-headed Mrs. Silver -- who dared to see herself as Danielle's professional equal -- in her place. That she could do it essentially by shaming her look-alike, entitled hussy of a daughter made the impending revenge for Will's perceived mistreatment that much sweeter.

With a noticeable spring in her step, and an enhanced sway in her spectacular hips, Mrs. Parnell drank in the stares of the men sizing up her fashionable yet professional appearance as she progressed down the courthouse's spacious central corridor while all but mocking the other women who, to no surprise of Danielle's, seemed to disappear in men's eyes when she was present. As she purposefully marched toward the mahogany door of her chambers, the fetching jurist was confronted by the sight of Mrs. Ross and Mrs. Silver who were clearly waiting nervously for her arrival. Let the games begin, Mrs. Parnell smiled to herself, confident that the mothers of the "accused" were there to curry favor with her based on their all being neighbors.

"Good morning ladies," offered the self-important Danielle with her best false smile, "to what do I owe the honor of your presence here today?"

As the two women uncomfortably exchanged glances, alternatively looking at one another and their own feet, Rebecca Ross sheepishly began, "you may not realize it Danielle . . .”

"Your Honor," interrupted the self-satisfied Mrs. Parnell, "what you mean to say Rebecca is 'you may not realize it Your Honor' . . . but please, go on."

"Um, you may not realize it Your Honor," continued the penitent Mrs. Ross hesitantly, " . . . well, because it's just so hard to believe . . . but my daughter Miranda and Nicole's oldest Amanda are scheduled to come before you today, and . . . well . . ."

"I'm actually quite aware of that fact, Rebecca," intoned Danielle, "and I'm hoping that your raising it here with me isn't an inappropriate, and frankly improper, attempt by you to influence my decision based on the fact that we're neighbors." Staring disdainfully at Nicole Silver the arrogant Mrs. Parnell continued "and you Mrs. Silver -- as an officer of the court -- should know better! I don't know what they taught you at whatever law school you attended -- why don't we simply say 'not-Harvard' -- but ex parte communications with the court are not permitted."

"Frankly ladies, you should both be ashamed of yourselves," glowered the dominating judge, "I know I'm ashamed of you."

"But . . .," began Mrs. Silver, "this was just a harmless prank. They're otherwise very good girls and the repercussions here could be very damaging to them . . . please understand."

"But nothing, Nicole," reprimanded the legal diva, "justice is blind!" As Danielle thought to herself, "not unlike Rebecca's husband," she continued aloud, "and your daughters will be accorded the same treatment before the law -- before me -- as anyone else having committed a similar offense -- my hands are tied. Good day ladies."

And with that, smiling devilishly to herself in satisfaction and sneering at her neighbors in contempt, the imperious Judge Parnell disappeared behind the heavy wooden door that opened into her chambers.

"Can you believe that woman," seethed Rebecca, "she's more concerned with lording her "high station" over us than with dispensing any sort of justice. It's not bad enough that she alternatively teases and chastens my husband at every turn, now she has poor Miranda over a barrel."

Laughing nervously while fearing for her own daughter's fate, Nicole Silver mused, "I'd like to put that little-show off over a barrel." Mocking Danielle's words to her, Nicole quipped to Mrs. Ross, "'my hands are tied' . . . they most certainly would be you little tramp."

With nothing but bravado and bluster between them, the two crestfallen moms headed into the court room to witness what they were sure would be their daughters' undoing. Unbeknownst to them, it was someone else who, soon enough, would come undone.

In the meantime, Judge Parnell, over the moon with her dominance of the hapless Rebecca and Nicole, reached across the opulent desk that sat resolutely within her wood-paneled office to retrieve the file for the Billy Goat incident. Unfortunately for the almost giddy dispenser of justice, she failed to notice the Starbuck's Venti cappuccino poised precariously on the lip of the large leather blotter protecting the patina of her desk and, pulling the file toward her, managed to spill the nearly full coffee squarely onto her chest and lap. Mercifully, her time spent with her quaking neighbors had permitted the Italian libation to cool thereby sparing Mrs. Parnell a scalding. That said, each of her crisp white shirt, form fitting black skirt and exquisite cotton vest was both soaked and stained. Given that fact, there was no way she could stay in these clothes for the day which created quite a dilemma for the manipulative narcissist.

On the one hand, the good judge Parnell could inform the handsome, if in her estimation oafish, Officer Hess that she would need to continue this morning's cases to a later date thereby allowing her to go home, change and return in time to oversee the afternoon's docket. Of course, that route would cause the hearing of Miranda Ross and Amanda Silver to be pushed off to a later date and likely come before another judge. On the other hand, Mrs. Parnell mused, she could slip out of her wet clothes, don only her black judge's robe over her exquisitely naughty lingerie, sit in judgment of her son's tormentors and then, with no one the wiser and still wearing her robe, head home to change at lunch time. Because the robe came down to mid-calf and had a high white collar sewn into its otherwise crew neck, only Danielle would know that the black garment's thin but opaque fabric was all that separated the likes of the dreamy Adam Hess from seeing her most intimate underthings. As she lustily thought of her own image, the idea continued to gain appeal in her mind.

After all, that morning, like every other, the self-obsessed beauty had carefully selected a particularly sexy ensemble to wear beneath her power suit. Knowing she would be sitting in judgment of the two tarts that had "pantsed" her young son Will in Davidson High's crowded cafeteria – completely humiliating him -- had prompted the protective uber mom to embrace the dominatrix inside her.

"No one embarrasses a Parnell like that and gets away with it," she thought vengefully.

Once she finished her morning shower the domineering judge -- with a cheeky grin on her face -- had grabbed the tiniest of black lace thongs from her extensive collection of panties. The sheer triangle of silk fabric that covered its front, which in turn permitted a very careful observer to spy the perfectly manicured landing strip above the preening beauty's sex, was on this particular micro-garment embossed with a small rhinestone skull-and-crossbones.

"Seeing this would certainly make Roger jolly," she had privately joked to herself.

The thong's matching black lace push-up bra was fastened right below the swell of the sexy mother's ample breasts by a rhinestone skull clip that matched the smiling skeleton down below. Mrs. Parnell had completed her look by slowly rolling onto each of her incredibly toned legs a solid black, grey-lace-welt-topped thigh-high stocking and then stepping into her towering Prada heels. Before slipping into her now coffee-stained clothes she had smiled at her sexy reflection, and with her hands on her nearly bare hips cooed to herself, " you really are guilty aren't you beautiful."

Three quick raps on the door separating her chambers from the court room snapped the self-absorbed judge from her erotic reverie.

"They're ready for you Your Honor," came the husky voice of Adam Hess through the door.

"Let them wait," Danielle responded sharply, "I need another few moments."

"Of course Your Honor," replied the bailiff, "anything you say."

Having doffed her skirt, blouse, belt and vest, and standing in her office in only her heels, thigh highs, jewelry, glasses and mouth-watering lingerie, the imperious Judge Parnell laughed to herself, "what I say Officer Hess . . . is that you can stare all you want out there but you'll never . . . ever . . . see me looking like this -- you dime-store cop -- what a loser."

After slipping into her black judge's robe, zipping it up the front and fastening the high white collar around her supple neck, Mrs. Danielle Parnell -- Her Honor -- unlocked the mahogany door separating her office from the courtroom and marched forcefully towards the bench.

"All rise," bellowed Officer Adam Hess, having no idea the double meaning his command would soon take on.

As she ascended the three wooden steps from the courtroom's floor to the platform behind the grand, turn-of-the century mahogany bench from which she presided, Mrs. Parnell took in the composition of the assembled citizenry gathered to witness the hearing. At the defendant's table, along with their counsel -- Mrs. Nicole Silver herself -- sat the comely Amanda Silver and equally fetching Miranda Ross. No doubt under the false impression when she got dressed that morning that the judge would be older -- and male -- each girl looked the perfect temptress for an aging pervert. Wearing black knee-high, high-heeled suede boots, black tights and a brown tartan plaid skirt that barely covered her pert bottom, the red-headed Amanda had also donned a tight, beige, v-neck cotton sweater that showed to full effect the fantastic rack that her mother's genetics had been kind enough to bestow upon her. Miranda Ross on the other hand was sporting a pair of fire engine red 5" platform pumps along with jeggings so tight they could have been painted on. With her lustrous blonde mane in a braided pony tail hanging over the back of her skin tight, black, turtle neck sweater, it was clear that she too had inherited her own mom's ample bosom.

"Showy little trollops," thought Danielle, "your whorish outfits will brook you no solace with me."

Looking next to the District Attorney's table, Danielle rolled her eyes at the sight of the frumpy Emma Duncan. A part-time local lawyer and practically a full-time den mother, story-time reader, tutor and other pass-times looked down upon by Mrs. Parnell, the kind, intelligent but somewhat disheveled Mrs. Duncan -- whose ill-fitting suit and comfortable shoes contained nary a natural fiber, had suffered more than her share of derision from the bench when Mrs. Parnell was the presiding judge. As Judge Parnell sneered disdainfully at her, Mrs. Duncan braced for further humiliation.

The courtroom was otherwise populated by parents, including Mrs. Ross and Amanda's father Julian, teachers -- including that Hobbit of a woman Rachel Miras and the rotund Davidson Middle School Principal Lori Whiting -- and, sitting together to provide Miranda and Amanda with moral support, the balance of the seniors on the Davidson High School cheerleading squad as well as the school's ruggedly handsome 18 year old quarterback, and Amanda Silver's boyfriend, Dylan Forseth.

"One look at what I've got on under this robe Mr. Forseth and you'd forget these silly cheerleaders ever existed," thought the judge, ever confident in her power over men.

Sitting down to begin the trial, the self-satisfied Mrs. Danielle Parnell paid no heed to the condition of the judge's chair supporting her. As a general matter, she would have Officer Hess bring a private chair from her chambers into the court room and place it on the platform behind the massive bench. Today, however, caught up in the erotic musings of her present fashion choice, she had neglected so to direct the macho bailiff and, as a result, would be sitting in the comfortable but somewhat dilapidated chair of Judge Robert Ericson, an ancient but affable lawyer from Baltimore who, like Danielle, periodically presided over his town's local criminal bench. What neither Judge Parnell nor any one there assembled could yet know is that an exposed tack at the back of that chair, which the crusty Judge Ericson had been meaning to fix for weeks, would soon become a critical player in the day's tale.

Once Officer Adam Hess formally declared court to be in session, the short trial of the young cheerleaders began. District Attorney Duncan put on her case, including CCTV footage of the girls trying to lure Billy Goat into their car and the testimony of two broken up Annapolis High students who swore to the deleterious impact that the near abduction had on the psyche of the small, frightened mammal. After Mrs. Duncan rested her case, and in order to prolong the wait of her son's young manipulators -- Judge Parnell declared a ten minute recess.

To the baritone call of "all rise" trumpeted by Adam Hess, everyone in the courtroom stood as Danielle got up to head back to her chambers. Had she not been so focused on revenge, the lovely lawyer may have noticed a slight pull on the back of her robe. Alas, she did not, and in any event the pull itself was of no moment as Mrs. Parnell descended the stairs, withdrew her key from the robe's side pocket, unlocked the imposing door to her inner sanctum and slid safely inside the confines of her chambers for a brief ten minute break. Making some notes to herself about advocating the hiring of a new D.A., the comely counselor absentmindedly left the door key to her chambers -- which locked when it closed behind her -- on her imposing nineteenth century desk.

With the brief recess over, and beckoned back to work by the voice of Miranda's father, Danielle again climbed the three stairs up to her chair to prepare to hear the girls' side of the story as Nicole Silver, Esquire took to the floor in their defense. Mrs. Silver was a fine a lawyer and, with her own child's future -- well at least her odds of getting into a good college -- at stake, she made a particularly strong, well-articulated and passionate case for why the failed abduction of a goat should be seen for the bungled prank it was rather than as a misdemeanor that in turn could really hurt Miranda and Amanda at what was a critical time in their lives.

In the court of the assembled public's opinion, if not the court of Judge Parnell, when Nicole Y. Silver rested her case it seemed the verdict could only go the way of her clients. Yet, despite the elegant Mrs. Silver's eloquence, notwithstanding the power of her reasoning or the logic of her well-staked out position, her oratory talents would be wasted this day. In fact, Oliver Wendell Holmes himself could not have swayed the judgment that the Honorable Danielle Parnell was about to render.

After Mrs. Silver was seated and looking literally and figuratively down upon the faces sitting before her in the Davidson courthouse, Mrs. Danielle Parnell authoritatively began, "before I render my judgment in this case, there are a number of related matters that I'd like to call to your collective attention as citizens of this community."

Having carefully prepared her remarks, and plotted their timing so as to heighten the humiliation of the defendants and their families, the preening diva continued, "the issues I'm going to discuss trouble me and I think, once I've shared them, will trouble you too. They're matters that if left unaddressed can begin to fray the fabric of communities like Davidson and, ultimately, steal from us the charm of our town."

Glaring at Miranda and Amanda, Judge Parnell proceeded deliberately, "first -- and ladies let there be no mistake that this comment is directed squarely at the two of you -- women needn't dress like pop-stars or calendar girls to gain the respect or admiration of others. Ms. Silver -- do you think the way you're dressed -- or should I say undressed -- today is appropriate?"

As some of the older members of the audience nodded along with the judges' critique and the young girl began to squirm uncomfortably, Danielle played her advantage aggressively, "your skirt is shockingly short and your sweater barely covers your chest -- for shame Amanda, for shame."

While Amanda, turning red, covered her slightly exposed cleavage with her hand, the judge dug in to Miranda Ross, " and you Ms. Ross -- I can't imagine how you can breathe or walk in those pants they're so tight. And those heels must be 5" high and look not the least bit professional -- save for maybe a job in the world's oldest profession. To think that you're comfortable wearing such clothes in front of your own father is not merely inappropriate, it's disgraceful."

Glancing over at the girls' already mortified mothers, Danielle fixed on the next targets for her derision.

"But the fault doesn't lie completely with you two," Judge Parnell piously continued lecturing the young ladies. "The behavior of your mothers earlier today -- their approaching me outside proper legal channels in an attempt to leverage our being neighbors into a more lenient judgment by me of your case rather than relying on the law. That's the very type of behavior that, again, undercuts the sanctity of this community. It's the type of entitlement that passed down from their generation to yours, conveys a message, for example, that you can dress any way you want -- no matter how inappropriate that may be."

Almost drunk with her own power, but before going in for the kill, Mrs. Parnell, looking this time at the forlorn Adam Hess who had already witnessed both his wife's and daughter's humiliation, took one more swing, "it's bad enough that I have to endure the licentious glances of some of the men in this courtroom. But to think that you ladies, and your mothers, teachers and administrators not only lack the self-respect to challenge cronyism, sexism and misogyny but instead perpetuate it -- well -- it genuinely breaks my heart and gives me concern for the future of our town."

Smiling mischievously at Amanda's young but handsome boyfriend, Mrs. Parnell concluded, "what's a nice young man like Mr. Forseth to make of all this as he tries to navigate his future. For what it's worth young man, you have my apologies for the behavior of your classmates."

As the blood of the women she had just publicly humiliated boiled, and the blood of the men watching the sexy but domineering judge debase those women flooded immediately below their waists, the triumphant Judge Parnell, thrilled that she was about to completely avenge her young son Will, finally read her ruling.

"Miranda Ross and Amanda Silver, for the crime of attempted robbery, a Class I misdemeanor, I hereby find you guilty. In addition to a $500 fine to be paid today, you will each be required to spend this evening in the county lockup so that you can reflect on your behavior and, thereafter, to perform 250 hours each of community service. This court is now adjourned."

The punishment imposed upon the girls was the maximum permitted by law and far harsher than what had been requested by D.A. Duncan. As Rebecca Ross and Nicole Silver embraced their weeping daughters who had been depicted both as two-bit floozies and common street criminals by the pompous Judge Parnell, Adam Hess -- who himself felt completely emasculated -- again sounded his call to order -- "all rise."

What happened next would be long remembered as the day Karma meted out its justice in Davidson, Maryland. Pushing herself up forcefully from old Judge Ericson's high-backed chair, her voracious ego satisfied by the humiliation she had wrought upon her son's shamed antagonists, Mrs. Parnell again failed to notice the pull on the back of her robe. This time, however, the creaky chair's tack held fast to the preening prima donna's high-necked frock and, as she purposefully walked across the small platform to descend the three steps to the courtroom floor, a delicious scene began to unfold.

While the assembled group of Davidson's citizens looked on, the heavy chair appeared for a moment to follow the gorgeous if arrogant judge. But, as the determined jurist began to descend from her high perch, the chair's pursuit came to an abrupt stop against the immovable bench. The resulting effect of that action -- namely that the Honorable Judge Parnell's august robe pulled suddenly and tightly against her -- would be the cause of the next -- a stumble by the pompous diva down three rickety wooden steps. As a few laughs were heard -- mainly from the cheerleaders who were happy to see the arrogant uber-MILF have her own awkward encounter -- Officer Hess leaped into action.

"I've got you Your Honor," called out the dutiful bailiff moving quickly enough to intercept the judge's fall.

But despite both Adam Hess' considerable strength and the spectacularly fit 5'3" beauty weighing barely 100 pounds, Danielle's momentum caused the conscientious officer to retreat a step or two as he caught her. And what a retreat it was. With the old chair's tack unwilling to release its prey, and to an accompanying RIIIIIIIIIIIIIP!!!! that could be heard throughout the cavernous building, the Honorable Danielle Parnell, now held fast buy the sinewy arms of Miranda Ross' father, had been – most unironically -- dis-robed!

What's more, and to the stunned shock of everyone present, Judge Parnell was revealed not in the fashionable power suit that had turned men's heads and stirred women's ire earlier that morning, but in her 4.5" heels, opaque black thigh-high grey-lace welted stockings, tiny, lacy, Jolly Roger bedazzled black thong, matching black push-up bra -- complete with its rhinestone skull clasp -- and black-framed cat-eye glasses.

As the courtroom erupted into a cacophonous mix of howling laughter, wolf-whistles, shock and applause, Danielle's ordinarily facile mind shifted into an overdrive of humiliation. What had just happened? Why were these nobodies pointing at her -- at her -- and laughing? This was her courtroom; she was in charge, not them. Why was Officer Hess holding her? And then . . . as clarity slowly set in . . . the once imperious alpha lawyer realized her state of undress.

"Oh my God . . . my robe . . . my clothes . . . I'm practically naked," she shrieked, causing the already frenzied crowd to guffaw even more heartily. As every man in the room groaned with delight at the fantastic display before them, and the women celebrated the comeuppance of the once dignified show-off, Danielle sought a way out from her mortification.

"Get me out of here NOW you idiot," she screamed at the stunned Adam Hess.

"Um . . . ah . . . but . . .," stammered the bailiff equally shocked and aroused by the sight before him.

Realizing that her only potential ally had been rendered inert, and alternatively trying with flailing hands to cover her barely concealed crotch, fully exposed ass and tits on the verge of escaping their flimsy confines, Mrs. Parnell made a bee-line for her chambers door only to remember as she tried the immovable handle that she had left her silver key inside.

"Get back here you little tease," came the powerful voice of the suddenly confident D.A. Emma Duncan who, in passing the shell-shocked officer Hess had managed to unhook the handcuffs from his belt. Hot on Danielle’s trail, Emma Duncan continued, "I’m placing you under arrest for public indecency."

As the disgraced and confused former justice attempted to evade the clutches of the determined Mrs. Duncan, she came face-to-face with the two mother-and-daughter teams who only moments before she had herself humiliated.

"Nicole . . . Rebecca . . . please . . . help me . . . we're neighbors," rambled Mrs. Parnell as her meltdown continued.

"I'm so sorry . . . Your Honor . . .," smiled Nicole Silver, "but it would be inappropriate for us to attempt to use our relationship as neighbors to mitigate whatever punishment may be in store for you. After all, I am an officer of the court."

Rebecca Ross, now smiling from ear to ear joined in, "we wouldn't want the fabric of our community to fray now would we . . . Danielle . . . at least not any more than it already has."

"But . . . I . . . I . . .," stammered the once authoritative attorney. But before she could utter another word, she felt two soft hands grab the waist band of her tiny thong from behind before whisking it down to her Prada encased ankles. As Miranda Ross snapped a picture of the undone narcissist, Amanda Silver -- who had pantsed the disgraced diva -- joyfully proclaimed, "hey look, like mother, like son."

For a moment, the once confident mother of three stood completely anchored in shock. Having entered the court room today to seek retribution for her son Will’s undoing, she had suffered a fate far worse than that she had come to avenge. Oh my God, she thought to herself -- what would Will think if he saw me in this state?

As the roaring laughter shook her from her momentary trance, the shocked Mrs. Parnell finally tried to react – but her humiliation wasn’t nearly complete. As Danielle stood with her sexy high-heeled feet turned inward, her knees nearly touching and her hands covering her now exposed landing strip, the 18 year old Ms. Silver pushed the distressed judge forcefully against the old courtroom’s solid mahogany railing – the “bar” -- that historically separated the trial’s participants from its viewers, in this case about seventy-five of the good citizens of Davidson.

Howling at her daughter’s handiwork, the redeemed Nicole Silver mocked the judge, “looks like you won’t be passing the bar today you little showoff.”

As the waist-high wooden divider bent the lovely Judge Parnell over –causing her high-heel encased feet to lift slightly off the floor which put her spectacular ass on display while also liberating her exquisitely pert breasts from the flimsy confines of her skull-clasped bra – young Amanda Silver began to deal out some punishment of her own.

“I bet you wish you had my shockingly short skirt on now don’t you Mrs. P,” taunted the teenaged temptress, as she began spanking the now mortified judge.

“That would keep everyone from seeing your very . . . very . . . naughty underwear wouldn’t it,” continued Amanda.

As the humiliation continued to well up insider her, all the shell-shocked diva could muster in response was a feeble, “yes . . . it would.”

While the astonished crowd, especially Nicole and Rebecca, laughed ever harder at Danielle’s comeuppance, Amanda Silver, still spanking the undone Mrs. Parnell heartily teased, “but that’s what you want any way isn’t it . . . Danielle . . . for all of the men here to see you in your very inappropriate underthings.”

“No, that’s not true” croaked Danielle.

Spanking the alfa mom’s perfect ass even harder, as adrenaline coursed through her veins, Amanda shouted, “you wanted my boyfriend to see you . . . you wanted Miranda’s dad to see you . . . didn’t you!?!?”

“No . . . I . . . I . . . but,” stammered Mrs. Danielle Parnell as the cheerleader continued to rain spanks down on her perfect but reddening posterior.

“TELL . . . THE . . . TRUTH,” demanded Amanda, punctuating the order with her hardest slap yet.

As her high heeled feet kicked aimlessly at the air behind her and her lustrous brown main came undone from its very professional bun, the completely broken beauty appeared to lose all reason and, as if freed by her mortification, to the shock and howling laughter of Davidson’s assembled citizens screamed out, “yes . . . YESS . . . YESSSS . . . you’re right Miss Silver. . . I wanted them all to see how hot and sexy I look in my tiny thong and bra . . . and my fuck-me pumps.”

“Don’t I look sexy . . . Officer Hess . . . I mean Adam . . . Mr. Forseth . . . don’t I,” the mortified mom pathetically pleaded -- her usual confidence having evaporated.

Then, still babbling almost incoherently, the debased debutante began loudly sobbing, “I want to be a calendar girl . . . . I want to be a pop-star. But I’m not -- I’m nothing but a big tease . . . a big tease and a dirty little girl who needs a good, hard spanking.”

And with that, as the women who she once thought entirely beneath her laughed hysterically at the judge’s erotic and highly “inappropriate” confession, Emma Duncan slapped Officer Hess' handcuffs on the slender wrists of Mrs. Danielle Parnell. Pulling the sexy solicitor to her feet while cupping her reddened but firm ass in her own pudgy hand, Mrs. Duncan surreptitiously slid a finger along Danielle’s glistening sex, the shock of which caused Mrs. Parnell's cat-eyed glasses to slip from her perfect nose to the floor. Smiling as she walked the once high-and-mighty judge into her now unlocked chambers, D.A. Duncan whispered softly into Mrs. Parnell’s ear, "you really are guilty aren't you beautiful."

This is like watching a great TV series, can't wait for next week's episode :). Great job with revised ending!! What could possible happen next!!

I know that there are plenty who like stories about false looks, but I'm more of a fan of the real thing. I would have liked to see two stripped beauties, rather than one and a fake.

That aside, the Parnell portion was masterful, as always.

Thanks amf85 -- I genuinely appreciate the feedback and your kind words.

It's funny, I set out to write a two stripped beauties story because I too prefer that to the fraud revelation angle. That said, I ran into somewhat of a hard spot in my head about how to distinguish Nicole's undoing from that suffered by Danielle. I may try this week to put a new version out there that finds Nicole left naked but spectacular. Thanks again.

Great story
 

I'm actually one of those folks who likes both angles. I haven't read anything ENF-related with the fraud exposed angle in awhile so it was kind of refreshing actually but you nailed it just the right spots to take the preening beauty down a peg or two (or several). The fake hair exposed, breasts exposed, girdle holding in what really is a spare tire. I've even seen some stories incorporate some additional elements like fake nails and fake eyelashes falling off after being doused with water, etc. I think besides the girdle erupting my favorite angle to that is probably the large breasts held up at a regal height being exposed to not really be upright at all, but a saggy, nipples pointing downward exposed lost glory from youth that no longer applies to a woman in her 40's.

Looking forward to it. :)

I to am not a big fan of the fake beauty, just prefer the real thing and I think Nicole is perfect for that. That being said the Danielle part was one of the best yet. Look forward as always to your rewrite or next new one. How you are able to do such great stories in such a short period of time is amazing.

Fantastic. I'm a huge fan of redheads, in Silver you created the perfect character. Looking forward to more of both of them. :D

Which brings me to...more thoughts. While two beauties are certainly better than one, what (for me) brings out the "whole greater than sum of the parts" opinion requires that the two interact more. Here, Silver appears, has her part, then leaves before Parnell gets her turn. Both parts were great, but in future stories, to take it to the next level you might have them together either participating in, or at least sharing, the other's humiliation.

Additionally, you build up these stories fantastically, but then the climactic portion happens pretty fast, comparatively. Stretching it out some might help. It's a problem (how do you plausibly keep the situation going when any person would take steps to end it or escape given sufficient time?) I have too (though my primary problem is inability to finish any stories, which makes the other problems sorta moot), so it definitely jumps out at me.

Please take it as constructive criticism...you're definitely one of my current favorites here! Keep the stories coming :D

Another great story well done again.

So, upon further reflection, I think I've come up with some starters. And yes, I know I'm responding to myself.

The question is why would a character, if a wardrobe malfunction is happening slowly, not just leave? How do you keep them there, allowing time to each loss/mishap to have it's own section, and allow for multiple periods of embarrassment, exposure, and shame instead of just one condensed period?

2 answers: 1) the character prevents herself from leaving, or 2) something else prevents her from leaving. I know, vague and useless, so lets move on. For #1 the scenario almost always seems to be an attempt to reclaim the clothes the character has lost instead of simply cutting her losses. Tsk tsk, poor decision. Inevitably this just leads to more being lost. For #2 it can be more varied, including physical restraint, restraint in the form of a person of authority not allowing the character to leave (such as a boss saying they have to finish their work or a teacher not allowing absence), or simply that leaving is considered worse than staying, such as if the character left she would encounter even more people. For #2, I know you already do quite well in the post-malfunction portion with the spankings, which many (myself included) very much enjoy :D

Anyway, hope this is helping. It's actually helping me a lot to put these into words.

Thanks again for all the great feedback and apologies for my delayed response (have been in the air much of this week).

Where to begin . . . I completely agree about making the whole greater than the sum of its parts by having two embarrassed ladies "share the stage" if you will rather than having the stripping occur serially (as I did with Nicole and Danielle in PAWS). A large part of where I've ended up is a function of my personally wanting to see Danielle suffer indignity without distraction - you'd have to know her to understand how well it's deserved! That said, I'm working on a story (probably not my next one which will be somewhat shorter than usual and only involve Mrs. Parnell herself) that I hope will have the benefit of two women sharing their humiliation.

As for the second issue -- extending the actual stripping scenes -- you're spot on a usual. It's really an issue of balance and since I generally come up with a theme in my head and then write the stories in one sitting I often end up typing the back story forever while attempting to fit a preordained ending. That combined with the points you note in your comment immediately above does present the inevitable challenges you describe. Again, hopefully my next long story will go some way toward addressing those challenges.

In any event, your comments are always great and truly appreciated. Thanks also to Dr. V as usual!

P.S. From the truth is stranger than fiction archives -- and apropos of the situation you describe regarding clothing retrieval -- I actually witnessed a scenario like that about 20 years ago. It was a brisk and incredibly windy spring day and I had gone out to grab a coffee at the Au Bon Pain across the street from my office. Standing at the crosswalk on my way back (I was waiting to cross the street from north to south) I witnessed a woman standing on the other side of the street (she was coming from east to west) having trouble with keeping a very long wrap around skirt from blowing open (she was carrying a banker's box so her hands were occupied). As she began to head my way -- the "Walk" sign being in her favor while I was still stopped -- the wind literally blew her skirt far enough open to expose her legs completely. Luck stayed with her as her skirt shut itself but when the next breeze came -- maybe half-way across the street -- her skirt (which was merely tied at the waist) was rendered a make-shift sail behind her and before she could pin it with her elbows had come untied and fallen to the ground about a foot behind her. With the box still in her hands she bent down, pinned the skirt (now completely off) against the side of the box and ran off in her heels and panties with skirt and box in hand into a parking garage where presumably she put herself back together. Great memory! Hope to have a short Mrs. Parnell story up before Thursday.

This is outstanding writing! Chasmo you are a man after my own heart. Your characters are interesting and your story set up is well detailed and thought out. Your wardrobe descriptions set the scene perfectly. I also like the tease you placed in the last story with the subtle lesbian tendencies of Katherine and the second antagonist Nicole. Hopefully you will develop this story line in future installments.

A few suggestions if I may. Your wardrobe descriptions are highly detailed perhaps you could add some detail to the ladies physical attributes. When I first started writing, I was counseled never to use numbers and letters to describe breasts. Write what you see in your mind's eye.

Danielle has always been on the receiving end in every episode and rightfully so. Perhaps she should get some revenge on her tormentors. Nicole would be an obvious choice. Personally I like seeing one woman have a direct hand in the undoing of another including stripping by wardrobe sabotage or in a catfight. One thing, the catfights I create are all in the spirit of slapstick nothing extreme.

I look forward to new installments. Again excellent work Chasmo.

obo -- at the risk of seeming star struck I'm both thrilled and humbled by your kind words. I've been a fan of yours for years and genuinely see your work as the very top drawer of this genre -- so thank you.

Thanks also for the constructive thoughts, particularly the advice around avoiding sizes to define physical attributes.

One of the reasons Danielle hasn't sought revenge is that I've at least been attempting to write each story as a standalone "first time" event. That said, now that Nicole is also in the mix, there may be some back and forth between the two that with any luck will be a pale shadow of what you've done with Theresa Scalia.

In any event, I'm about to post a relatively short Danielle story that I hope you and others enjoy. My goal is for the next one to integrate much of the wisdom that has come in of late including your very helpful thoughts. Thanks again.

I'm With The Band
 

"I'm quitting music," said Anna Parnell, sniffling and wiping a tear from her eye, as the 11 year old returned home after the first day of sixth grade at Davidson Central Middle School.

"You're doing nothing of the sort, young lady," snapped her mother, Danielle Parnell, "now stop acting like a baby and explain yourself."

"It's Mrs. Gold mom . . . she yells all the time . . . doesn't seem to like me at all . . . and . . . according to the older kids . . . is a really tough grader. And the rumor is that she spanked someone once. Most of my friends from the elementary school band want to quit and so do I."

Mrs. Danielle Parnell was well aware of Sharon Gold's reputation for sinking kids' GPAs and self esteem. Although her oldest child Will, now 13, was not a musician himself, Danielle had heard stories about children being demoralized by Mrs. Gold or, worse yet, quitting music altogether. The latter concept -- quitting -- was not in the lexicon of one Danielle Parnell, Esquire, and the powerful Washington, D.C. lawyer had no intention of letting her children, Anna especially, be quitters. What's more, Mrs. Parnell was not shy about going "straight to the top" to handle any issue that arose in connection with her children's school, sports or other activities -- a fact not unnoticed by teachers, principals, coaches and school superintendents alike.

"Is that so," the now angered attorney responded to her daughter, "well we'll see how tough Mrs. Gold is when I'm finished with her. Now you get your homework done . . . and practice that flute. I'll take care of this at school tomorrow."

"Mom . . . no," protested her young daughter, "you'll embarrass me if you do that."

"That's enough from you missy," scolded her imperious mother, "the only one who will be embarrassed is Mrs. Gold -- now get to work."

As it happened, the Davidson Central Middle School PTA had already scheduled a "meet the teachers" night for the following evening. The point was, at the start of the school year, to give parents of new students an opportunity to meet their children's teachers in an informal setting, to understand what would be covered in the 6th grade curriculum and generally to introduce themselves and to ask any questions they may have about what the year held in store for their kids. Because the Parnells had already attended a similar evening for their son Will only two years prior, they had not planned on showing up this year. That said, upon hearing from her daughter that the music teacher had already "caused a problem," Mrs. Parnell was determined not only to be at the meeting, but to make it very clear to the school generally and to Mrs. Gold in particular exactly who was in charge -- namely, she.

A mere 24 hours after young Anna had informed her mother that she was done with music, the sharp staccato beat of high-heels on marble broke the silence of the main hallway at Davidson Central Middle School. As the head of every man and boy within earshot turned toward the direction of the always sweet sound, a most glorious sight could be seen. Greeting the gaze of every father, teacher, janitor and student in possession of XY chromosomes, and a few with XX, strutted the haughty Mrs. Parnell in a pair of 4.75" high black leather Christian Louboutin Bianca platform heels and a fitted, knee length Dolce & Gabbana mid-calf leather pencil skirt with burgundy leather trim, that was fastened from top to bottom by a row of seven silver snaps with an eighth left open to facilitate the preening diva's purposeful strides. The light but tight leather hugged the ultra-fit mom's well exercised ass like a glove. Up top, showcasing a tan obtained from her family's recent sojourn to the south of France, the stunning Mrs. Parnell wore a crisp, white cotton, cap sleeve shirt with a wide collared neckline that plunged deeply but discreetly toward the canyon created by her ample breasts -- each one the size of a ripe orange. Her luxurious, blonde-highlighted shoulder length brown hair framed her gorgeous emerald-eyed face perfectly and the bright-red gloss that covered her sumptuous lips only added to her allure.

Her studied nonchalance as she paid her male onlookers scant attention masked the rapturous joy she took from their adoration -- the losers. Although Mrs. Parnell loved herself first and foremost, and in large part as a function of the incredibly high esteem in which she held her beauty and intelligence, she thrived almost equally on the undivided attention she garnered from men. To tease them with her beauty while at the same time ignoring -- or better yet disdainfully dismissing -- their attention thrilled the self-absorbed uber-MILF endlessly. What she enjoyed more was to "catch a man in the act" of lusting after her, particularly if his wife or girlfriend was present.

"Eyes up here, Mr. Hess," or "what exactly are you staring at, Mr. Duncan," were only a few of the taunts that Danielle had directed at neighbors' husbands in an effort to emasculate the men while proving convincingly to their wives that in Mrs. Parnell's presence they were mere afterthoughts at best. Not surprisingly, as the sexy solicitor sauntered her way toward the Central Middle School auditorium to "meet the teachers," she relished the stares coming her way from the gathering parents whether in the form of lustful ogling by the students' feckless fathers or the envious daggers of their unworthy soccer mom wives. Mrs. Parnell looked down upon them all equally -- the peasants. In her view, it was their collective weakness in the face of the petty tyrant Mrs. Gold that required Danielle to waste her evening ensuring that the music teacher was shown her rightful place.

The very thought of dominating this Gold woman had informed not only the leather skirt that encased Mrs. Parnell's firm posterior but the tiny, translucent, black lace Cosa Bella thong beneath it. Knowing before she left for work that morning -- where as the managing partner of the large and powerful SmythKnight law firm she lorded over its employees with near plenary power -- that she would be taking Anna's school to task for permitting Mrs. Gold's "antics" to go unchecked, the sexy solicitor had dressed expressly for the part. Before fastening the silver snaps that held her pencil skirt together or pulling on her very fitted white cotton shirt that profiled both her fantastically toned mid-section and ample breasts exquisitely, but only after expertly applying her make-up and blowing out her hair, the self-absorbed Mrs. Parnell had stood before her full length mirror in only her 4.5" black Louboutin heels and next to nothing thong.

After drinking in the sight of her flawless bronze body -- with nary a tan-line in view -- and while cupping her magnificent breasts and gently tweaking her erect nipples -- Danielle Parnell closed her eyes and imagined what Anna's polyester clad male teachers or the hapless fathers of her schoolmates would think if they could see her like this -- but they never would -- the jerk-offs. Opening her eyes and blowing herself a kiss, the delectable dominatrix picked up the worn leather riding crop that she had left idly on her dressing table the prior Saturday after returning from a fox hunt with Anna. With a devilish smile on her face, and holding the crop in her right hand while using it to slap her left palm, the lovely lawyer joked to her reflection, "you have no idea with whom you're dealing Gold." Self-satisfied as always, Mrs. Parnell finished dressing and headed off to work from whence she had come to "meet the teachers."

As is the case in many a school, Davidson Central Middle School's "meet the teachers" night was scheduled to begin with all of the parents gathered in the school's auditorium where the principal, a rather rotund Lori Whiting, would welcome them, introduce them to some of the other administrative staff and members of the PTA, permit them to be entertained by a quick instrumental rendering of God Bless America from the Mrs. Gold led 8th grade "senior orchestra" and let them know that thereafter they would follow their respective child's schedule by going from classroom to classroom to meet their teachers. To help guide the parents around the building, a number of the eighth grade students, including young Will Parnell who Alia, the Parnell family nanny, had dropped off a the school earlier, would act as escorts. Those self same students were at this point ushering parents into the auditorium for the beginning of the program.

Standing his post in penny loafers, khaki slacks, a white oxford shirt, rep tie and blue blazer, Will Parnell spotted his mom storming down the hall -- and it caused him to have a pit in his stomach. Although he loved his mother dearly, he knew that she could be very hard on people and after hearing her the night before talk about her plans to "teach this Mrs. Gold a thing or two," and despite the fact that Mrs. Parnell was here to advocate on his sister's behalf and not his -- he was justifiably worried that the evening could unfold in a way that would cause him to become the object of his friends' derision as a mama's boy. It didn't help that he was standing with his friends Hank and Callum about whom his mother had strong opinions that she shared with Will and did nothing to hide from the boys when they were at the Parnell house or on those rare occasions where she and not Alia drove them as part of a car pool.

In respect of Hank, who although he had not yet gone through puberty was a veritable giant for a 13 year old, Mrs. Parnell's most charitable words were something on the order of, "he's dumber than a box of rocks, and a complete oaf, but at least he has kind eyes." As for Callum, she had nothing but disdain for the boy who she thought merely used her son Will as a means to access the Parnell's home with its indoor bowling alley, tennis court and other amenities that any kid would love. In her view Callum was nothing but a brat and a product of bad parenting.

"Looks like your mom is here Will," Callum teased as Danielle approached the boys. "What's the matter, was she afraid you couldn't handle this on your own?"

"Shut up Callum," Will snapped back, "she's here because of Anna -- not me."

"Oh, is that so," replied the snide teen. "Did some teacher look at your sister the wrong way and now your 'mommy' is here to boss her around. Is that all your mom does -- boss people around -- my mom says she's a real snob."

But before Will could respond his mother was standing next to them.

"Hello there Hank," Danielle said with a forced smile while thinking to herself, the poor lost cause.

"Hi Mrs. Parnell," the awkward giant responded.

"Callum," she said coldly, disdainfully eyeing the boy she felt to be a bad seed, "I'm surprised to see you here. I don't think of your mother as the type of woman who values education as much as, say, dinner."

Before the seething but tongue-tied Callum could even think of a way to defend his own mom, who admittedly could lay off the donuts, the ever haughty Danielle Parnell addressed her son whose worst fears had already been realized.

"Come now Will, why don't you help mommy find a seat."

As mother and son departed, Callum finally rediscovered his voice, saying to Hank, "she thinks she's so hot and fancy. I'd love to see her end up the one feeling stupid for once."

While Will walked his mother to her seat -- in the front row of course -- the gathered dads strained to take in the sight of Danielle's fabulous form which, as always, fed the preening prima donna's ego even more. Their wives on the other hand wanted nothing more than to take the little tease down a peg or two. Feeling flush with power having just put the snotty Callum Duncan in his place, and after sending Will back off toward his friends, Mrs. Parnell spied Dr. Eric Bloom, the Davidson School Superintendent, making his way past her towards the stage. Unfortunately for Eric Bloom, there was no way for him to avoid the admittedly fetching mother's approach and he could tell by the familiar look in her eye that she was poised to complain about something.

"Excuse me Dr. Bloom," began the officious Washington lawyer who in her 4.5" heels towered over the 5' 5" administrator, "but I need a moment of your time."

"Why good evening Mrs. Parnell . . . it's nice to see you as always," Eric Bloom lied hesitantly, "do we have a problem this evening?"

"We do not have a problem Eric -- you have a problem," Danielle barked at the cowering administrator, "and your problem is the school music teacher and orchestra leader -- Mrs. Sharon Gold. Apparently she is a bully who is more interested in intimidating children than teaching them and who I understand feels unconstrained to resort to corporal punishment. What I need to know is what are you going to do about it?"

Aware that Mrs. Parnell's accusations were likely naught but bluster predicated on rumor, but too terrified of Danielle to challenge her, Dr. Bloom stared blankly ahead while attempting to gather his thoughts. Knowing how to play that blank stare to its best advantage, and inwardly smiling at how quickly and cleverly she was about to dispatch both Dr. Bloom and Mrs. Gold, Danielle Parnell went in for the kill.

"I would appreciate it if you'd look me in the eye and not the chest when you speak to me Dr. Bloom," the gorgeous alpha-mom loudly exclaimed, "your behavior here is highly inappropriate."

"But . . . I . . . no . . .," fumbled Eric Bloom who, as parents and teachers alike looked at him with shock and disgust, realized that he had just been completely outwitted by the arrogant narcissist.

"But nothing, Dr. Bloom," stormed on Danielle, "one minute you're explaining to me how Mrs. Gold will be taking early retirement and the next you're practically accosting me with your eyes. Shame on you sir!"

"Please, Mrs. Parnell, you're making a scene" said Eric Bloom as quietly as possible, "can we discuss this after the introductory program is over?"

As she watched Dr. Bloom squirm and reveled in her impending victory, Danielle cleverly cut her grand bargain. Out of earshot of anyone but Eric Bloom himself she whispered, "in exchange for my not going to the school board in the morning about your highly inappropriate behavior, you will during your introductory remarks tonight announce that after many years of dedicated service, Sharon Gold is retiring, effective immediately, as both music teacher and orchestra leader -- do you understand?"

"But Mrs. Parnell . . . that's not right . . . you must know I wasn't behaving inappropriately . . . and there is no reason to fire Mrs. Gold," Dr. Bloom stuttered.

"It doesn't matter what I know you little pervert -- it's what people will believe. And who do you think the school board is going to believe -- you -- you snivelling little weakling? No -- those old men are going to take one look at me -- at this body -- and put you out on your ear. And as for old lady Gold, she's just getting what's been coming to her for a long time. Now just do what you're told. Do . . . you . . . understand," commanded Danielle.

"Yes ma'am . . . of course . . . you're right as usual . . . she is approaching mandatory retirement age this year in any event . . . it only makes sense," said the defeated superintendent quietly. "I'll announce it immediately after my opening remarks and before she leads the orchestra in God Bless America."

Eric Bloom knew when he had been beaten. But what Dr. Bloom didn't know -- nor did anyone -- is that Callum Duncan had overheard -- and thanks to his handy iPhone 6 recorded -- the superintendent's entire conversation with Mrs. Parnell and, with revenge on his mind, was on his way to share its contents with Sharon Gold.

Gloating to herself about how simple it was to manipulate Dr. Bloom into agreeing to publicly sack Sharon Gold -- and with a broad smile of self-satisfaction on her beautiful face -- Mrs. Danielle Parnell settled into a front row seat in eager anticipation for the evening's big event. Had she not been quite so self-absorbed Danielle might have found it odd that up on stage Will's friend Callum appeared to be pointing at her while hurriedly sharing something with a clearly agitated Mrs. Gold. Alas, as Mrs. Parnell prepared to witness the fruits of her Machiavellian labors, nothing could have farther from her mind. In fact, as she momentarily closed her eyes she recalled the earlier reflection of herself in heels and a thong, brandishing her riding crop, and in her head chuckled again, "you have no idea with whom you're dealing Gold."

"Ladies and gentlemen . . . parents," came the voice of Eric Bloom from the stage interrupting Danielle from her reverie, "welcome to the Davidson Central Middle School 'meet the teachers' night. As you all know, this is an opportunity for you, as parents of our incoming sixth grade class, to learn a little bit about what your kids do here each day."

With those words as an introduction, Dr. Bloom began the introductions of those with whom he shared the stage -- Principal Whiting, Rachel Miras, the PTA President and a number of other school administrators.

"And last by but by no means least," he continued, gesturing toward the older woman standing in front of the middle school chamber orchestra on stage, "and before she leads our eighth graders in a performance of God Bless America, the conclusion of which will be the signal for you to head out to meet your children's teachers in their classrooms, I'd like to say a few words about our music teacher and conductor Mrs. Sharon Gold. Sharon has been a fixture here for almost 25 years so it's with great sadness. . ."

But before Eric Bloom could finish that thought his microphone cut out. As he tapped on the offending instrument in the hopes of getting it to work, and as some of the parents and students began to laugh at the technical difficulty Dr. Bloom was experiencing, another voice -- a woman's voice -- could be heard over the auditorium's sound system.

"It doesn't matter what I know you little pervert -- it's what people will believe," the shrill but mocking voice boomed.

And then, as the stage lights dimmed, the mysterious rant continued, "and who do you think the school board is going to believe -- you -- you snivelling little weakling?"

As it dawned on Danielle what she was hearing, and as confused parents began looking around in the dark, a spot light shown down from the rafters above the stage illuminating the gorgeous but now clearly disconcerted MILF.

"No," the voice continued as the gathered crowd began to put the formerly disembodied speaker together with the woman literally trapped like a deer in the spotlight, "those old men are going to take one look at me -- at this body -- and put you out on your ear. And as for old lady Gold, she's just getting what's been coming to her for a long time. Now just do what you're told. Do . . . you . . . understand!"

Danielle was in a panic -- what had just happened? Who could have recorded her private conversation with Bloom. And everybody was now looking at her -- and pointing -- and smirking -- and laughing. This had all gone very horribly wrong.

Any normal man or woman would have known that the gig was up and made a quick retreat for the exit but not Mrs. Parnell. She was not a quitter -- she was gorgeous, brilliant and a ruthless lawyer and manager -- and she was going to turn this thing around.

"What's the meaning of this," she demanded as the laughter and finger pointing continued.

"That's . . . that's not my voice . . . I'm being framed," she yelled all the louder confirming -- despite her express efforts to the contrary -- that the voice they had been hearing was indeed hers.

And then, still intent on salvaging her own position and finishing Mrs. Gold (and now Dr. Bloom too), and with the spotlight still on her, Danielle made what would become her most costly mistake of the evening -- she headed for the stage. Pushing past those seated beside her, including Emma Duncan and her smiling son Callum, Mrs. Danielle Parnell at last got to the edge of the front row where the steps led up to the podium and, turning on her very high Louboutin heel began to ascend the first step.

Had it not been completely dark -- and had Danielle been able to hear over the growing crescendo of laughter -- coming mostly from the women who were happy to see the normally super confident woman in distress -- she may have seen her son Willl sitting at the end of the first row, or heard him call out "mom, please don't go up there -- you're embarrassing me," or felt his small hand as it barely missed its intended target of her wrist and instead grasped in the dark the side of her very fashionable leather pencil skirt that was fastened together only by seven silver snaps. But it was dark, and it was loud, and so with a spotlight illuminating her for all in the auditorium to see, Mrs. Danielle Parnell began forcefully to climb the stairs and -- as her own son by holding fast to her skirt in an effort to save himself embarrassment caused seven shiny snaps quickly came undone -- ended up suddenly and humiliatingly on stage in only her 4.5" shoes, tiny black, translucent Cosa Bella thong and fitted white top.

As Danielle's jaw dropped and her eyes bulged at the realization of her predicament, the crowd went wild. There wasn't a flaccid man nor a disappointed woman in the auditorium. The former were thrilled at finally getting to see the fabulous and firm ass of the stuck-up little sex kitten who constantly teased and tormented them and the latter were overjoyed by the fall of the imperious little show off-who never let an opportunity to mock them pass. Meanwhile, with his mother's fashionable leather skirt in his hand and a very confused feeling in his head, young Will Parnell watched helplessly as Callum first high-fived a smiling Hank and then used his iPhone to record the scene for posterity.

What happened next began the final undoing of the imperious Danielle Parnell. As her mind tried to process the indignity of standing before the assembled parents of Davidson's sixth grade class in naught but her panties, heels and blouse, her instinct to flee at last kicked in. With the spotlight following her tight, thong encased bottom, Mrs. Parnell made for the stage's nearest wing only to find the corpulent Principal Whiting blocking her way -- "oh no you don't you little tease," snarled the smiling Lori Whiting, "you're not getting past me." Turning toward the stairs, Danielle came face-to-face with PTA president Rachel Miras -- who the once preening snob had referred to as a Hobbit on more than one occasion -- "think again sweetie," threatened Rachel who, under the cover of darkness grabbed the back of Danielle's tight white blouse as the latter tried to teeter away on her towering heels. As Mrs. Miras held fast, Danielle tried with all her might to run backstage but, as the resulting RIIIIIPPPPPP separated her high fashion top from her marvelously tan body, she was intercepted by a delighted Eric Bloom into whom she ran pert tits first.

With a smile on his face and raising up to his full 5'5" height, the now confident Dr. Bloom loudly chided the undone mom, "why Mrs. Parnell, this is most inappropriate . . . shame on you madam."

And then, as Danielle Parnell's mind began to reel from the mortification of it all and the crowd continued to howl with delight, the stage lights came back up. Although the orchestra members had since fled, their conductor, Mrs. Sharon Gold, stood before the nearly naked Mrs. Parnell brandishing the bow of a violin in much the same way that Danielle had only hours before held her own riding crop. Struck by the irony of it all, and with a daffy look on her once smug face, the humiliated Danielle Parnell began to wobble on her towering heels. Although a fall was likely imminent, any chance of that was dashed when the 65 year old Mrs. Gold took hold of Danielle's diamond bracelet encrusted wrist and pulled the arrogant prima donna across her lap.

"For the record, Mrs. Parnell," the older woman began, "I would not and never have spanked a child. But, seeing as how you're a grown woman who also happens to be a very naughty girl, I'm going to spank you right now. And, although all of the men are going to take well more than one look at you -- at that body -- it's you who is going to be put out on your ear . . . and who is just going to get what's been coming to her for a long, long time."

As the men and women of Davidson cheered her on, the old but stately Mrs. Sharon Gold began to reign down spanks on the perfectly formed ass of the now completely cowed Danielle Marie Parnell -- first with the riding crop bow and next with her bony bare hand.

With her toned legs flailing at the empty air behind her, Mrs. Parnell -- crying like a baby, and shouting out "stop it mommy, stop it . . . not on my bare tushy" -- managed unintentionally to kick off her sexy high heeled shoes. Meanwhile, Mrs. Gold relieved the comely counselor of her very grown-up and incredibly naughty thong so that in the end, the once highly fashionable, domineering, show-off appeared as nothing but a naughty little girl being spanked by a much older woman.

Before she passed out from shame, and so that there was no mistake about who had won the night, the elegant but elderly Sharon Gold whispered softly into Danielle's ear, "you have no idea with whom you're dealing Parnell . . . . and for the record, your daughter came to my class by mistake . . . I'm the orchestra conductor and she's in the band."

It will be great, if Danielle stripped Callum Duncan who make a record.
Maybe he can take a record and after that wrote Danielle a note, where he says that have a record and wants to meet her. Danielle met for the hall Callum. Callum says, that he wants to see Mrs. Parnell naked, if she wants record back.
Mrs. Parnell decided strip to him, but Callum clever boy took her clothes and opened the curtain, all auditory saw Danielle nudity, but Callum escaped with her clothes.

Awww, what a wonderful story!

Are there anymore Danielle Parnell stories in your future plans. Really enjoy your writing.

Thanks hocman -- and Happy New Year! Since the end of November a combination of nagging health issues (nothing serious) and a brutal year-end workload have occupied most of my waking hours. I don't have anything in the works but will take a look at some of the feedback and try to get something ginned up and posted by the end of this weekend. Thanks again.

Happy New Year to you. Thanks for reply, have to give you tons of credit, I know how difficult and time consuming it is to write this stuff. Look forward to new post. Enjoy the day..

Welcome to Gonzaga
 

First, thanks to hocman who in a recent post kindly included me in a list of authors whose talent is far greater than mine. Second, in writing the story below I attempted to be mindful of many of the very constructive comments I've received on this board. In so doing my grasp may have exceeded my reach so I apologize in a advance for any failings. You may yet see a revised version of what's below but I hope in the meantime that you enjoy.


After easing her new Mercedes convertible into a spot in front of the tony boutique that was Davidson Dry Cleaning & Tailoring, Mrs. Danielle Parnell focused for a moment on her favorite topic -- herself. As the beautiful 43 year old lawyer and mother of three gazed at her spectacular reflection in the car's rear view mirror, her bright white teeth set off brilliantly by her ruby red glossed lips and her emerald green eyes accented by a very naturally hued shadow, she thought about how "blessed" the boys of Gonzaga High School, along with their feckless fathers, would be to see her this weekend in the dress she was about to drop off to be pressed. Of course, she thought to herself, that blessing would be a curse to their unworthy mothers, girlfriends and wives, all of whom would disappear to those same boys and men once Mrs. Danielle Parnell came into view -- and she loved it. For as much as she craved the attention of men, whose undivided adoration she consistently garnered, she reveled even more in the shame and humiliation that would be felt by the wives, girlfriends and daughters of her admirers who became all but irrelevant in her presence.

Self-satisfied as always, the preening Mrs. Parnell stepped purposefully from her car and, to the admiring glances of any man nearby, and bedecked in her 4" stiletto heeled black leather Fendi boots, skin tight jeans that fitted her perfect ass like a glove and tight grey cotton turtle neck sweater that profiled both her ample bust and tight midsection while leaving no doubt as to the fitness of her toned arms, strode towards the oak and glass doorway of Davidson Dry Cleaning & Tailoring. Over her shoulder, on a hanger and sheathed in its protective soft Prada case, was her fabulous and fashionable new frock that she was entrusting Davidson's most venerable haberdashery to press.

Answering her cell phone before pushing open the door with her bejeweled hand, Danielle was in mid-conversation as she queued up to drop off her latest high fashion purchase.

"Not that Will wouldn't otherwise get in on the merits," the comely counselor loudly chatted without care, "but once these Jesuits get a gander at yours truly in this dress, they'll probably make him class president . . . or . . . at the very least, beg him to help them untie those chastity knots."

"Next," the young girl behind the counter cheerily called to Danielle.

"I've got to go Lindsay," Danielle informed the caller -- her younger sister -- signing off in what she thought was a whisper with, "the help beckons."

A bit shocked by her customer's statement, which she was clearly not intended to hear, the very attractive Davidson Dry Cleaning sales girl, Amanda Silver, smiled broadly at Mrs. Parnell. An 18 year old knockout, Amanda was a senior at Davidson High School and the co-captain of its cheer-leading squad. She was also the captain of the cheerleaders at Gonzaga High School which, as an all-boys Catholic institution with great athletic programs, was fortunate to have a long line of eager and attractive girls from nearby public schools lining up to do double duty.

"Did I overhear you mention that your son is waiting to learn whether he was accepted at Gonzaga," she asked. "My brother Jules is a senior there . . . and I cheer for them . . . and my mom is the President of the Mothers' Guild."

"If you overheard me dear it was only because you were inappropriately eavesdropping rather than attending to whatever responsibilities you've been entrusted with here," responded the arrogant uber-MILF with disdain. "Now just make sure this dress is pressed and ready to be picked up by tomorrow -- I'm Mrs. Parnell -- write it down."

"Yes, of course ma'am," said the young auburn haired stunner who although outwardly still smiling was seething at the arrogant prima donna standing across from her, "I've got your name and we'll have it ready."

What Amanda was really thinking was I have your name and your "number" you pushy snob but she wisely held her tongue -- for now.

"You know my wife Rebecca teaches at Gonzaga," came a deep voice from behind Mrs. Parnell, "and I'm on the Alumni Board of Trustees having gone there myself."

Upon turning around, Danielle found herself face-to-face with Adam Hess, a neighbor of the Parnell’s from Davidson and a volunteer bailiff in the same local courthouse where Danielle periodically sat, on a pro bono basis, as a judge. Although the gorgeous Mrs. Parnell generally did not have time to spare chatting with men, including her husband, she had always found the 6' 4" tall Mr. Hess attractive and was mystified as to how the sandy blonde haired Adonis was ever snagged as a husband by Rebecca Ross -- the cow. But far more than any interest Mrs. Parnell may have had in his appearance, on this day Danielle's attention was drawn to his access -- to Gonzaga.

One of the many first world problems faced by parents in the affluent Washington, D.C. suburb of Davidson, Maryland was whether to send their children to the public high school. Although the town's elementary and middle school programs were regarded as quite excellent, in large part due to the taxes paid by the "one percenters" who populated the bucolic burb, the type-A personalities of Davidson's parents inevitably posed for them the dilemma of whether as their children's high school years approached, to choose a parochial or private alternative to Davidson Central High.

So, in November of every year, at many a Davidson dinner table, parents and their eighth grade student children got about the business of submitting applications and taking entrance exams for some of the Baltimore-Washington metro area's most prestigious halls of secondary learning. Of the many highly desirable and extraordinarily competitive alternatives, Will Parnell, Danielle's eighth grade son, had set his heart on Gonzaga College High School in Washington, D.C. -- and his mother would not see her little boy denied.

With that in mind, and placing her highly moisturized hand delicately on Adam Hess' sinewy forearm, the beguiling and manipulative Mrs. Danielle Marie Parnell practically cooed at her neighbor, "is that so Adam -- do you know we've been neighbors all this time and I had no idea that you went to Gonzaga or that Ramona taught there."

Aroused almost instantly by the touch of the captivating vision before him, and looking to impress Danielle even more, the hapless Mr. Hess continued, "why yes . . . I'm still very much involved you know . . . and Ramona . . . I mean Rebecca . . . my wife's name is Rebecca . . ."

"Of course it is, sweetie, silly me," teased Danielle as she tightened the grip on her prey's arm.

"Well it's all to say that I'd be happy to make a few calls on behalf of your son," continued Hess, puffing out his chest in light of his new-found importance in Mrs. Parnell's eyes. "Will the two of you be attending the open house and pep rally on Saturday night . . . I will . . . and I may even have an answer by then."

"We wouldn't miss it," smiled Danielle, "and I'm particularly delighted to hear that you're going to be there," she lied. "Please give my best to Ramona," the conniving diva continued as she strutted out the door toward her car, swaying her hips just a bit more than usual to make sure her trap slammed shut on the pliable Mr. Hess.

"Will do," he called after her waiving, forgetting this time to even recall his wife's name.

Amanda Silver was shocked by what she just witnessed and, after ringing up Mr. Hess' laundry drop-off and sending him on his way, wondered how he, a married man and the father of one of her fellow cheerleaders, Miranda Ross, could be so easily manipulated by the scheming Mrs. Parnell. He couldn't remember his own wife's name, she thought. And the audacity of that Parnell show-off who knows full well that Mr. Hess is married to Rebecca Ross -- they're neighbors for God's sake. The man was helpless but something needed to be done about that woman. But what?


The red-headed teen was still steaming when she walked into her house after work to find her mother Nicole chatting with two other neighborhood moms, Katherine Wray and Rachel Miras. Amanda's friend Miranda Ross had also just arrived at the Silver house to walk with her to cheer-leading practice.

"That Mrs. Parnell is infuriating," blurted Amanda, "what a show-off . . . and a tease . . . and a bit- . . ter pill to swallow."

Her mother Nicole as well as Mrs. Wray, Mrs. Miras and, to a lesser extent, due mostly to her mom Rebecca's complaints about the way Mrs. Parnell looked at her dad, Miranda Ross, all nodded their heads knowingly and scowled. They were very well aware of the domineering alpha lawyer in their neighborhood -- and each of them had been subjected on more than one occasion to her withering criticism, back-handed compliments, snide retorts, eye rolls, sideways glances and outright mockery. Whether denigrating their kids, their clothes, their weight or their intellect or -- more often than not -- teasing their husbands, sons and fathers to distraction -- the collection of women gathered in the Silvers' lovely parlor room had been roundly humiliated by Mrs. Danielle Parnell.

"Someone needs to do something to put that woman in her place," stormed Amanda.

"You should have heard her . . . bragging loudly on the phone about how hot she was going look at the Gonzaga open house in the dress she was dropping off . . . or referring to me as "the help" and then . . . after I still tried to let her know that stupid Jules is at Gonzaga . . . and that you're the Mothers' Guild President . . . reprimanding me for eavesdropping."

"But that's not the worst part," she continued uninterrupted, "Miranda's dad was in the shop too and when he mentioned his connection to the school Little Ms. Perfect was nothing but a flirty teenager."

Looking at her friend, Amanda went on undeterred, "she called your mom Ramona and stroked your dad's arm so hard that he forgot your mother's name too!!"

"Did you say she’s going to the Gonzaga open house," interrupted Mrs. Silver.

At almost the same time, Mrs. Katherine Wray, who despite the shoddy treatment she always received from Mrs. Parnell -- or maybe because of it -- couldn't get the image of the sexy vixen out her mind, shouted, "did you say she left her new dress at your shop?"

Finally, to add to the chorus of questioners, Miranda Ross angrily queried, "did you say she was flirting with my dad?"

"Yes, yes and yes," answered young Amanda, "she'll be at the open house tomorrow night with her son, she left her dress at the shop to be pressed and . . . without any question . . . she was very heavily flirting with your dad."

As if on cue, Nicole Silver, Katherine Wray and Miranda Ross, simultaneously exclaimed, "I've got an idea."

Having sat silently so far, Rachel Miras at last spoke up, saying "well I certainly hope at least one of them involves turning the tables on little Miss Fancy Pants."

With those words, three separate plans, which would intersect with some much unintended consequences a mere 24 or so hours later, began to hatch.

Mrs. Nicole Yanika Silver was the first to weave her web. The 39 year old stunner was no slouch in the looks department herself. Standing 5'8" tall with flawless alabaster skin, the striking red head had a spectacular pair of calves upon which sat two muscular thighs and an ass that was everything that was best about the bass. Her sturdy but perfectly formed Norwegian bottom was complemented up top by a firm set of six pack abs and a very pert bust line that evoked the size and shape of two large, ripe g****fruits. Her broad shoulders and fit arms were spectacular and, with a face that was a cross between the best of Amy Adams and Emily Blunt, with ice-blue eyes and a sparkling smile, it was difficult to refer to Nicole as anything but beautiful. The problem was -- not unlike Mrs. Parnell -- she knew it.

"We'll see who the real belle of the ball is tomorrow night," began Nicole who not coincidentally was also a lawyer in Washington, D.C. "She may think she's something special but in the halls of Gonzaga High School, it's the President of the Mother's Guild who wields all the power -- namely me. Perhaps I'll have something to say about whether her precious little son gets in. Better yet, I always have one of the prettier prospective new moms sit next to me on stage during the pep rally -- she's usually so thrilled that she jumps on it without even realizing it's my way of keeping her in her place. I'll be sure to invite that self-obsessed Parnell woman to join me tomorrow night so she knows exactly whose boss."

Katherine and Rachel almost laughed out loud at Nicole's own arrogance -- she and Danielle were not so very different. And then, as Mrs. Silver's son Jules, Amanda's twin brother, walked in, Nicole drove that point squarely home.

"Jules sweetie pie, why don't you tell everyone who the prettiest mom at school is dear," Nicole only half-teased her son.

"Mom," the awkward teen said blushing, "cut it out . . . you're embarrassing me."

"Are you ashamed of how beautiful I am," his mother continued, making her undersized son feel even more uncomfortable.

"No mom -- you're the prettiest," Jules offered, as Katherine Wray rolled her eyes, Rachel Miras shook her head in disbelief and Amanda snidely offered up "mama's boy."

Turning three shades of red, the nerdy Jules continued, "although did I hear you all talking about Mrs. Parnell before . . . now she's really pretty."

"Jules," his mother shouted sternly.

"Shut up dork," Amanda piled on. "Who cares what you think any way you little loser. You wouldn't know a hot girl if she fell on you . . . naked!"

As a completely humiliated Jules, infuriated by his "cool kid" sister's rebuke and his mother's constant babying of him, slinked off to his room, Katherine Wray, thinking about how delicious it would be to see any or all of Danielle Parnell, Amanda Silver or Nicole Silver naked, adroitly changed the subject and hatched the afternoon's second gambit.

"Did Mrs. Parnell say when she planned to pick up that new dress of hers," Katherine inquired of Amanda in her dulcet Nashville toned voice.

"Sometime tomorrow -- early afternoon probably," Amanda answered, "she made it clear to whoever she was yammering with on the phone that she'll be wearing it to the open house."

"Plenty of time to make those alterations, I guess" Katherine said with a wry smile on her face initiating her own plan for Mrs. Parnell.

"She's just getting it pressed," responded Amanda before the seed that Mrs. Wray in her brain began to germinate in her mind.

"Or at least that what she thinks," the scheming teen smiled back at Mrs. Wray now knowing exactly how she'd exact a little payback on the arrogant Mrs. Parnell.

"Speaking about dresses," Nicole joined in, "Katherine, would you be a dear and pick mine up today if you're swinging by Neiman Marcus. Little Miss Show-Off isn't the only one who'll be sporting a new outfit tomorrow night."

Exhausted by the arrogance of Nicole Silver, who too often treated Katherine more like a gopher than a friend, and inspired by the thought of performing some alterations of her own on Mrs. Silver's new dress, the lithe Katherine Wray sweetly replied, "of course Nicole -- glad to help. I'm actually heading over there tomorrow morning so I'll swing by with it before the open house and we can drive over together."

Although her own son Jackson was already a freshman at Gonzaga High School, which meant that there was no need for Katherine to be at the open house, as a member of the Mothers' Guild herself, it wouldn't be out of place for her to attend. What's more, the thought of what might transpire was already driving her to distraction.

Finally, Miranda Ross, Amanda's gorgeous blonde eighteen year old friend who also cheered with her at Gonzaga spoke up about her plan.

"I usually roll my eyes when mom goes on about how Mrs. Parnell 'has a thing' for dad," Miranda began, "but given what you saw Amanda I think she may be right. And I just got a group text from my father letting mom and me know that he'll be joining us at the open house tomorrow night. Best I give my mother a heads up and some support. My guess is she'll have a word or two to share with Danielle Parnell."

So, with Nicole's strategy of intimidation, Miranda's planned plea to her mother about confrontation and Katherine Wray's suggestion to Amanda Silver that she engage in some wardrobe modification, the Gonzaga High School prospective student open house was setting up to be quite an experience for the imperious alpha-MILF Danielle Marie Parnell. Add to those machinations Mrs. Wray's plan for Nicole Silver's new outfit and one could imagine quite a scene unfolding the following night -- and unfold it would.


Having returned home after picking up her new Prada dress from the cleaners -- and after abiding that officious little tart Amanda Silver who seemed unable today to get a self-satisfied smile off of her arrogant teenage face -- Mrs. Danielle Parnell began to prepare for the evening's big event. A letter had arrived from Gonzaga that morning confirming that Will had been accepted to the prestigious high school thereby taking much of the pressure off the evening for her and her young son. Not surprisingly in her mind, Mrs. Parnell had also received a text from Nicole Silver, the mother of that snotty little laundress and President of the Gonzaga Mothers' Guild, asking Danielle to join her on stage at the open house.

"Typical," Danielle thought to herself, "that Silver woman is already looking to raise her profile by being seen with me. Too bad that dime store lawyer doesn't understand that by sitting next to me on stage she'll only become more forgettable rather than more respected."

And then, relishing the prospect of humiliating a woman who thought she was doing Danielle a favor, Mrs. Parnell chuckled to herself, "but who am I to deprive her of the thrill?"

With Will's acceptance in hand and a spot on the stage awaiting her presence, the stunning mother of three now felt even more confident in her latitude to make a significant and lasting impression on the Gonzaga community tonight -- giving the boys and men something to dream about and the women -- particularly the hapless Silver who in Mrs. Parnell's view had foolishly let the wolf into the proverbial hen-house --something to rue. With a devilish smile on her face, and luxuriating amidst the bubbles in her opulent lion-claw-footed tub, the gorgeous lawyer thought back to the words she shared with her sister the prior day about genuinely testing the faith of the school's male clergy -- the pathetic eunuchs. What's more she'd be able to all but ignore the handsome Adam Hess who no doubt was under the misimpression from their prior day's exchange that Mrs. Parnell had even the slightest interest in his company.

Relishing the attention she knew the next few hours would afford her, Danielle Parnell stepped from her bath to begin preparing for the evening's event. Slipping on her short silk robe and kitten heel slippers, the sexy solicitor took a seat at her dressing table to apply her make-up and flat iron her spectacular brown mane. Around her emerald green eyes Danielle applied a tasteful shadow while her most luscious lips she glossed in a pale but stunning pink. Very soft earth tone rouge was applied further to accentuate her already high cheek bones. Smiling at her gorgeous face, the suburban beauty then completed the task of straightening her luxurious head of hair -- a look she knew garnered the maximum amount of male attention. Without any question the imperious Mrs. Parnell looked magnificent.

Thrilled as usual with her stunning visage, Danielle made her way into her cavernous walk-in closet to get dressed. Mindful that Gonzaga's colors were purple and white, and as excited for herself as she was for her son with "their" accomplishment, Mrs. Parnell pulled from inside one of her many glass fronted mahogany drawers a barely-there translucent purple thong. As she slipped the tiny garment up her toned thighs and over her peerless hips, the soft triangle of fabric set off in base relief the perfectly manicured landing strip that sat atop her inviting sex.

Around the back, a tiny twin of the garment's front bisected Danielle's fantastic ass that looked as if it was carved from marble. Stepping into a pair of 4.5" black peep toe Prada heels while letting her tiny robe slip from her shoulders, Mrs. Parnell took in the glory that was her astonishing body. Rising up from the top of her naughty purple panties, Danielle ran her hands over her firm, muscled midsection before cupping each of her two, pert, softball sized breasts with areolas the size of quarters and nipples aroused by the tweaking of her highly moisturized fingers.

"Is this what you went home and imagined yesterday Mr. Hess," she cooed at her reflection, "that you'd get a chance to see this body instead of Ramona plodding around in her sweat pants. Well dream on you loser . . . my son is exactly where he should be and your expiration date has just passed."

Drunk with her own self-absorption, and laughing at how easily she had again gotten just what she wanted at the expense of unworthy losers, the preening narcissist put on the thong's matching lacy purple push-up bra before unzipping the protective garment bag that sheathed her brand new Prada dress. Removing the fashionable black frock from its bag, Danielle ran her fingers over the spectacular fabric and thought to herself how magnificently the Italian outfit was constructed -- so much more sophisticated and well stitched than the polyester outfits and fashion knock-offs other mothers would be debuting later that day.

As she carefully slipped the dress over her now pin straight hair, as if by magic, it took a shape that fit Mrs. Parnell's form like a glove. Up top, with a neckline that plunged just enough to hint at the canyon formed by her ample breasts, it encased her toned midsection beautifully. Its three-quarter sleeves, held fast to her lean, muscled arms due to a hint of spandex in the fabric, made clear her dedication to fitness.

From the waist down, the couture outfit, again due to a touch of spandex in the cloth, profiled Danielle's spectacular ass and legs exquisitely. Although her sexy stems were covered to just above her glorious calves, the tight fit of the dress, from top to bottom, exhibited her incredible body to its best effect -- form-fitting enough to cause the men to drool but not so tight as to appear cheap or tawdry. Turning as she admired the finished product the self-absorbed beauty smiled at her reflection, "lust is one of the seven deadly sins boys," she teased, imagining the pathetic crowd of monks, fathers and sons that would see her tonight, “I hope you're ready for some confessions tomorrow."

Impressed with her own cleverness as always, Will's mom set off to fetch her son and head for the high school. Had she taken one last look at her magnificent visage in the mirror, she may have noticed the smallest, almost imperceptible, seam separation along her shoulder. Alas -- she did not.

Meanwhile, not even a quarter mile from the Parnell household, Nicole Silver was finishing her preparations for the evening. Having spent the better part of her morning working out at the gym and getting her hair, face and nails done at Davidson's most high end salon, Mrs. Silver stood in front of her own mirror admiring the many gifts that God and a relentless passion for exercise had bestowed upon her.

Slipping into a pair of 5", deep purple suede Greta Sue platform pumps by Jimmy Choo and wearing a very naughty white silk micro thong that she had a novelty shop produce with the purple Gonzaga "G" smack in the middle of the translucent front triangle, Nicole found it hard to suppress her desire to quickly pleasure herself. That temptation was made all the stronger by the small capitalized block letters above the "G" that read "Top Mom." Resisting her own carnal desires, the statuesque red head turned on her very high heels and, looking over one very fit shoulder at her spectacular bottom mouthed to her reflection, "you are the top mom baby . . . and don't you ever forget it."

With that exhortation to herself, Mrs. Nicole Silver put on her "Gonzaga purple" and white lace push-up bra and, after giving her melon sized breasts a gentle squeeze, prepared to slip into the deep purple silk cocktail dress that Katherine Wray had picked up for her at Neiman Marcus earlier that day.

"That silly Wray woman," Nicole chuckled to herself, "one shake of this ass I could get her to sew me a dress."

Completely unaware of the prophetic nature of those words, as Nicole stepped into her new Dolce & Gabbana creation, her love for herself and her body reached new heights. The sleeveless top with a deeply plunging neckline showed both her well-honed arms and magnificently large and pert breasts in incredible relief. From below her delectable orbs the dress hugged her firm midsection tightly before becoming a beaded tulle vision that puffed out over her fantastic ass and legs ending a good three inches above her knees. The look was out of this world with the dark hues of purple playing both complement and counterpoint to Nicole's long mane of orange-red hair. The President of the Mothers' Guild was ready. Now all she needed was to collect Amanda and Jules and, along with Katherine Wray, head over to the high school to show Little Miss Parnell who was boss.

While he waited for his mother and sister to get ready, 18 year old Jules Silver replayed in his mind the humiliation that each of them always heaped on the awkward teen. His sister was constantly calling him "dork" or "nerd" and relentlessly teasing him about his lack of luck dating. And his mother, she saw Gonzaga more as a showplace for herself and her clothes than as a school for poor Jules.

It was bad enough when he was an underclassman and Nicole was merely one of many moms who populated the Gonzaga Mothers' Guild, but the situation became almost intolerable his junior year when Nicole was made Vice President. Her preening at the Guild fashion show, put downs of the other moms and incessant flirting with his male teachers and friends' dads completely mortified her son.

He could barely imagine what this year would portend now that she was President. It was only November and her near ubiquitous presence at the school subjected him almost daily to taunts from his senior classmates who felt unencumbered telling him what they'd like to do to his MILF-y mom -- and this was on top of the razzing he took because his sister was always flaunting herself as head cheerleader.

That said, and despite the almost daily helping of multiple indignities served up to him by the women in his family, Jules generally just swallowed hard and soldiered on -- which explains the delight he felt when just a week before Gonzaga's annual autumn open house 16 year old Billy Miras, the school's most notorious prankster, asked Jules whether it was true that the Gonzaga cheerleaders kept their uniforms stored at the Silver household.

Remembering his answer, a resounding "yes," along with his wise choice to give to Billy a spare key to his parents' front door and asking from the young saboteur in return only to "surprise me" with whatever mischief he was planning, helped Jules to relax a bit on the drive with his mother and sister to the high school. For once, although Jules didn't know exactly how, Amanda was going to be on the receiving end. Too bad his mom would be spared -- or would she.


The Gonzaga gymnasium was a beehive of activity as students, prospective students, parents and faculty made their way in for the big open house. For students it marked the kick-off of the fall sports season and one part of the night was dedicated to a pep-rally complete with the Gonzaga cheerleaders whose annual arrival the boys always looked forward to eagerly.

For prospective students -- some like Will Parnell who already knew they would be joining the following year's freshman class and others who were still waiting to hear -- it marked an inauguration of sorts into a school ritual they would, or at least hoped they would, soon join. For new parents it was a first glimpse into the community of young men of which their sons would soon be a part-- it was a night of pride and hope.

For parents of existing students, those in the Mothers' Guild like Nicole, Katherine and Rachel Miras, and others who otherwise chaperoned and helped out in different ways, it was an opportunity to see their sons becoming the men into which Gonzaga was shaping them.

To host the annual autumn open house the Gonzaga community spared no expense. The large gymnasium which thanks to the generosity of generations of wealthy alumni rivaled many a college arena, was transformed essentially into a concert setting with a large stage set up on one end of the basketball court, an open area in front of that stage where the cheerleaders would perform and then rows of chairs, bisected by a center aisle and extending to the opposite end of the court that would be populated by prospective students and their parents. Current students and their families would view the events from the auditorium style seating that surrounded the basketball court and that normally housed audiences for the team's home games.

It was against this backdrop of pomp and circumstance, accompanied by her young son Will, that Mrs. Danielle Parnell made her grand entrance into the gymnasium. She had timed her arrival in such a way as to ensure that many of the attendees -- meaning most of the men and boys in the gym -- had already taken their seats because in doing so she afforded them what she knew would be a highlight of their evening, the sight of her spectacular body in her very tight, very fashionable, black dress sashaying down the center aisle of the gym towards the stage.

Both her ego and ire had already been stoked when walking through the parking lot on the way into the school the sexy solicitor heard a student shout from the safety and darkness of a passing car, "girl you're walkin' this parking lot like a runway," and then whistle appreciatively. Little savage -- she thought to herself – but she loved it.

Not to be outdone, and waiting at the foot of the steps leading up to the stage, stood Mrs. Nicole Silver looking majestic in her deep "Gonzaga purple" cocktail dress atop her towering 5", purple suede platform pumps. Despite the literally hundreds of people milling about, each of the two alpha-females, while outwardly smiling, was sizing up her rival and each arrogantly thought she had upper hand.

"Why welcome Danielle," oozed Nicole with fake sincerity.

"And this must be little Will," the imperious redhead continued, patting the young boy on the head like a dog.

"I guess congratulations are in order," Nicole droned on looking only at Will but very much intending her next words for the boy's haughty mother, "I heard from Mrs. Ross that her husband personally had a hand in getting you in."

"I'm sure you're mistaken," snapped Danielle adamantly, "Will's acceptance was a function of his qualifications and hard work not of some charity bestowed by Ramona's husband."

"Oh I'm sure you're right Mrs. Parnell," Nicole Silver falsely apologized, "and I'm equally sure you know her name is Rebecca."

Smiling insincerely at Danielle, Nicole reveled in having landed a punch squarely to the jaw of her adversary -- in her mind it was game over.

"Of course -- Rebecca," Danielle responded knowing it was only a matter of time before she turned the tables on red headed Amazon in front of her, "with all the names I need to remember running the city's largest law firm you'd think I'd get that straight."

"I'm sorry Nicole," smiled Danielle knowing full well both the answer to the question she was about to ask as well as how asking it would crush the ego of Mrs. Silver, "but what is it again that you do?"

Nicole was furious, the little tease knew that she was a lawyer too but, because she hadn't quite found the same level of relative success as Mrs. Parnell, the latter woman never missed an opportunity to demean her.

"I'm a lawyer Danielle -- just like you," responded Nicole but her words betrayed her weakening confidence.

"Oh that's right -- you're a lawyer," Danielle feigned forgetfulness and then, with a condescending smile finished off the bigger woman, "but not really like me."

With that exchange complete, and after shooting a withering glance -- that without words screamed "back off you little pervert" -- at Jules Silver, the preening Mrs. Parnell with Will in tow, followed Nicole Silver and her son onto the stage to take their seats. As the lovely emerald eyed lawyer ascended the steps she noticed the slightest of gaps in the side seam of Nicole Silver's "ghastly" purple cocktail dress and snidely thought to herself -- typical -- cheap rag.

Arriving on stage, the President of the Mothers' Guild, her gorgeous guest and their two sons made their way to their assigned seats. The four of them, Nicole, Jules, Danielle and Will, in that order, were seated in the front row of chairs on the left side of the stage. Immediately behind them sat Katherine Wray and Rachel Miras, the Mothers' Guild's Vice President and Secretary, along with a host of the school's trustees including Adam Hess who had not yet arrived. In the center of the stage stood the podium from where the school's head master would act as a veritable master of ceremonies. On the other side of the stage, also in a few rows of four chairs each, sat a mixture of the school's faculty and administrators, including English Literature teacher Rebecca Ross -- Mrs. Adam Hess.

Before taking her seat, Danielle felt a hand touch her elbow and, quickly turning around, she found herself face-to-face with the admittedly handsome Adam Hess. Mr. Hess, with a broad smile on his manly face, and encouraged by his exchange with the sexy solicitor only twenty four hours prior, moved his hand to Mrs. Parnell's shoulder and with absolute sincerity loudly said, "well it looks like my calls may have done some good, I understand Will was accepted today."

Noticing the self-satisfied grin on Nicole Silver's face that conveyed the message "your son would have never gotten in on his own," Danielle immediately went on the offensive.

"I can't imagine what you're talking about Mr. Hess," she said sternly, "my son's acceptance had clearly been sent by the school well before our brief exchange yesterday."

Raising her voice even more so as to emasculate the man whose genuine kindness she not surprisingly mistook for a come on, Danielle continued, "and I'd appreciate it if you'd take your hands off me sir. By God isn't your wife Ramona standing right there."

Having heard the commotion herself, Rebecca Ross turned just in time to see the imperious Danielle Parnell pointing her way while pushing Rebecca's husband's hand off her well exercised shoulder -- and she was livid. That little Parnell show-off took endless pleasure in a cycle of teasing and tormenting Rebecca's husband while in so doing making Mrs. Ross constantly play the fool. Something needed to be done to take her down a peg or two -- Rebecca just wished she knew what that was.

Unaware of the mini-drama playing out on stage, Billy Miras was reviewing in his mind that agenda of mischief that would culminate in the biggest and most elaborate prank of his storied high school career. Altered the head cheerleader's uniform . . . check . . . high gloss coat of wax on the basketball court floor . . . check . . . fog machine under the stage . . . check . . . accomplices at the lighting and sound board . . . check, check . . . coat of transparent quick-drying rubber cement on the first row of faculty chairs on stage . . .

And then it struck him. Looking up at the stage from his seat in the first row of the audience Billy Miras recognized instantly his mistake. Although he had stolen the seating plan from the headmaster's office without incident, he clearly misread it for “prank planning” purposes. What he thought had been stage left was actually stage right. Instead of coating the seats of the headmaster and three faculty members for the purpose of pinning them in place he had painted the quick drying cement on the chairs of -- glancing down at the plan -- the "Mothers' Guild President" . . . Mrs. N. Silver, her "guest" . . . Mrs. D. Parnell and each one of their sons.

"Oh crap . . . Jules . . . and his mom," Billy thought to himself but just then the school band began to play the National Anthem and the program commenced. The headmaster's welcome was followed by some faculty introductions, an inspired speech by the head football coach, a roll call of this year's varsity team and a brief history of the school. Thereafter, and immediately before the scheduled performance of the Gonzaga cheer-leading squad, the school's headmaster began to introduce the President of the Gonzaga High School Mothers' Guild.

"Prospective parents and students," he began, "those of us who have been here for a while, including all of our current boys and their parents, know that none of what we do would be possible without the dogged assistance and inspired guidance of so many dedicated moms. To represent them today, I introduce to you the President of the Mothers' Guild, and the mom of one of our proud seniors, Mrs. Nicole Yanika Silver."

Having been sitting on the glue treated chair for only a few minutes, Nicole Silver was for the most part spared the entirety of its effect -- although only for the most part. While she was able to successfully get out of the chair and make her way to the podium, the careful eye of Katherine Wray, who was seated immediately behind Mrs. Silver, spied the faintest hint of stick between Mrs. Silver's fashionable purple dress and the seat of her chair. What's more -- and although the dress did not hold fast to the still drying glue -- Mrs. Wray saw that her "alterations" were beginning to take hold as the rear seam at the waist of Nicole's fancy frock had begun to separate revealing just a hint of her pink flesh beneath. Needless to say, Katherine was excited for what lied ahead.

After strutting to the podium as if to say to the other mothers present -- particularly Danielle Parnell -- that she, Nicole, was the alpha-female in this otherwise male dominated institution, the stunning red-haired Mrs. Silver imparted on all women in attendance the importance of supporting their sons and brothers through the boys' journey into manhood that was the Gonzaga experience.

"Remember ladies," Nicole Silver practically lectured the gathered mothers and daughters, "we should do anything we can as women to encourage and foster our sons' development here at school to help them become the successful men we all know they will be."

As mothers rolled their eyes at the snobby Mrs. Silver's condescension and as the attendant fathers, students and prospective students feasted their own eyes on the lusty the vision before them, Nicole finished her entreaty on female support by introducing the Gonzaga cheerleaders led "by my gorgeous daughter, and Julian's sister, Amanda."

And with that introduction, the lights of the gymnasium lowered, the loudspeakers began to play Britney Spears' "Circus" and the Gonzaga high school cheerleaders -- led out by the gorgeous Amanda Silver and otherwise consisting of ten incredibly hot 18 year old girls who as the sisters, cousins and girlfriends of Gonzaga students made up the sexy squad -- began a choreographed dance routine that made man and boy alike "stand" and take notice. Fittingly, Circus was an apt musical selection for what next began to transpire, for a mere thirty seconds into the song, Billy Miras' plan, along with Amanda Silver's uniform, began to unfold.

As the young, fit Amanda, dancing a solo in front of the squad, mouthed along to the music, "I'm like a ring leader, I call the shots . . . I'm like a firecracker I make it hot . . . when I put on show," while thrusting her perfect ass rearward and her pert breasts forward, her words suddenly became more prophetic than she ever would have desired. Per Billy's plan, and to the joy of Jules and every other man in attendance, her very small, very tight, "Gonzaga purple" shorts, that had been shrunken a size and the seams of which had been weakened thanks to the access provided to Billly Miras by her brother, shot from her body like a rubber band into the first row of students revealing her fantastic thong covered bottom for all to see. Before the stunned teen could even react, her equally snug, equally altered top followed suit, revealing her lemon sized, and firm braless boobs.

"Oh my God, my uniform," screamed a shocked Amanda while trying to shield both top and bottom with flailing hands as boys and dads alike put their camera phones to work and mothers gasped -- except for Danielle who sneered and took pleasure in the embarrassment of the sales clerk who she thought had not paid her enough respect. With the Gonzaga boys going wild with cheers and laughter, and Amanda seeking a route away from her humiliation, the fog machines under the stage kicked into high gear adding to the mayhem.

Just then, the school headmaster's booming voice was heard over the loudspeaker angrily bellowing, "turn the lights up now."

But, per his plan, Billy Miras had stationed student "accomplices" in the A/V room and instead of the house lights coming up, two spot lights blazed through the darkened auditorium to highlight first the still struggling Amanda, who due to the high gloss coat of wax that the pranksters had applied to the court's wooden surface had in her attempt to flee fallen flat on her thong encased bottom and second, due again to a misreading of the seating chart, the seats that still held Nicole and Julian Silver and Danielle and Will Parnell. It was with them that the prank -- completely unintentionally -- would continue.

Mrs. Nicole Silver was incensed. Although dumbstruck at first by the sudden indignity suffered by her daughter, and neither noticing nor caring about the spotlight focused on her or the "fog" rolling over the stage, the statuesque beauty who was the President of the Gonzaga Mothers' Guild began to rise forcefully from her chair and headed for the podium in an attempt to restore Amanda's dignity and bring order to this chaos.

What the imperious Mrs. Silver could not have realized, but what was all too apparent to a nearly salivating Katherine Wray sitting immediately behind her, was that the quick drying glue Madame President had narrowly escaped before now held fast to her fashionable purple dress. That fact, coupled with Katherine's earlier alterations and her opportunity in the impending mayhem to lean heavily on the back of Nicole's chair as the determined mother strode off to her daughter's aid was the predicate for a most delicious scene.

Despite the music, the laughter, the shock and the confusion, the piercing scream that accompanied the loud RIIIIIIIPPPPP that separated Mrs. Nicole Silver from her now tattered purple frock ensured that she instantly became the center of attention. After a moment of shocked silence, the gathered crowd went wild -- from the surprise and delight of the high school boys, including some of Julian's pals who had been scolded on more than once occasion by the imperious Mothers' Guild President, to the satisfaction of their mothers who had suffered her scorn and arrogance, to the lust of the gathered fathers who had long wondered what the sexy Mrs. Silver might look like unclad.

The sight of Nicole Silver standing in only her 5" purple platform heels, her white micro thong emblazoned with the purple Gonzaga "G" and the words "Top Mom" and her white and purple push-up bra that barely contained her monstrous breasts disappointed no one.

"I guess you weren't kidding about doing everything you can as a woman," yelled one mother through the darkness.

"You can be the "top mom" on me anytime," bellowed one of the senior football players knowing that the now rising "fog" would protect his anonymity.

Nicole's mind was reeling at the dual humiliation suffered first by her daughter -- who thankfully had escaped to the ladies loo in all the commotion -- and now by herself. Where were her clothes -- her beautiful dress? What happened to Amanda -- her daughter had been nearly nude? Oh my god, these panties!! I'll never be able to show my face here again. And then -- why is Jules laughing at me . . . and leering. Oh no, what's that bulge in his khakis??

In the meantime, Danielle Parnell was furious. It was one thing to suffer the cat calls of some faceless high school pervert whistling at her in the parking lot -- while inappropriate she also knew that it only confirmed how desirable she was to men. It was quite another however to think that Will should spend any more time -- forget four years -- in a school that could charitably be described as a den of iniquity. That point became clearer still when, turning to her son to escort him off the stage she saw his adolescent gaze -- a mix of wanton lust and eye bulging goofiness -- fixed on Nicole Silver's nearly naked form.

"You get that look off your face right now young man and stop staring at that . . . that . . . woman," she scolded her son.

While she was in part delighted at the humiliation being suffered by the idiotic Silver woman she also didn't need her "little boy" becoming a lecherous pervert. Of course, looking again at Will it was as if the boy didn't even hear her.

"William Parnell," she shouted, "get yourself out of that chair -- we're leaving here this instant."

But as the sexy Mrs. Parnell attempted to stand she realized that somehow she was stuck -- her brand new high fashion dress seemed to be affixed completely to the seat of the folding chair upon which she sat. What's more, it appeared that the seams along each side of her tight pencil skirt had begun to separate. Still one row behind Danielle, and hoping that the now humiliated Amanda Silver had taken her hint to alter Mrs. Parnell's dress, Katherine Wray sprang into action. Leaning forward onto the worried mother’s chair -- as if genuinely concerned with Danielle's predicament -- Mrs. Wray enlisted Will's unwitting help to carry out her plan.

"Will," Katherine implored, "don't just sit there -- be a gentleman and help your mom out of her chair."

Shaken by Katherine’s entreaty from the trance brought on by the disrobing of the now virtually catatonic and very much still on display Nicole Silver, Will attempted to jump to his feet only to realize that he had a folding chair attached to the back of his pants. Without any counterweight, it came up with him forcing him to stand bent over at the waist.

"Mom, the chair is stuck," gasped the confused teen.

"Don't you worry about that," Katherine chimed in," just help your mother up first and then we'll get it off you."

Listening to his mom's concerned friend, young Will Parnell grabbed his mother's wrist and forearm and, despite Mrs. Parnell's protests -- made because after recalling her separating seams, the uber-MILF suddenly now understood the potential consequences of her son's valiant assistance -- pulled with all his might to help Danielle to her feet.

For the second time in as many minutes, the sound that was music to men's ears, the tearing of a woman's clothing, echoed across the Gonzaga High gym. There on stage, in only her 4.5" Prada heels, her translucent purple lace micro thong that profiled her sexy landing strip for all to see and her matching lacy purple push-up bra, stood the true bane of many a woman and fantasy of many a man and boy in the audience -- Danielle Marie Parnell. Whereas only a second before she had been disgusted at the inappropriate nature of the bacchanalian festival that the assembly had become she was now its most definite epicenter.

Before the disgraced diva even had time to think, her son Will -- tottering at the edge of the stage still entrapped by a folding chair -- reached out desperately toward Danielle to steady himself but managed with his flailing grasp only to snag his mother's bra which, as he spun on his heel before nearly toppling into the audience, came tearing off Danielle's delicious body. With no thought for herself, and with her glorious tits topped by diamond hard nipples on full display, Mrs. Parnell grabbed onto the back of the folding chair that had ensnared her little Will but in tugging strongly managed only to separate the boy from his khakis as he fell face first from the stage landing on top of the Gonzaga eagle mascot in only his blazer, shirt, tie, shoes and Spider Man Under-Roos.

As her pant-less son Will passed out -- his last vision being the daffy look on his topless mother's usually smug face -- he meekly squeaked, "mommy, you ripped my pants off . . . and I can see your boobies." Meanwhile the nearly naked Mrs. Parnell's rearward momentum caused her firm body to fall fantastic ass first squarely into the lap of a startled but smiling Adam Hess.

“Oh my,” gasped a startled Danielle as the perfect cleft between her now exposed ass cheeks was bisected by the raging manhood of Adam Hess as it pressed mightily against his slacks.

“Mr. Hess . . . I mean Adam . . . I mean . . . please cover me . . . I’m so humiliated,” pleaded the completely undone Mrs. Parnell.

“Not so fast you little tease,” came the booming voice of Rebecca Ross as she stormed across the stage to separate the near nude sexpot from her husband, “it’s time you learned some manners and some respect.”

As a terrified Danielle attempted to flee both Mr. Hess’s lap and his wife’s enraged approach, the back of her flimsy purple thong caught on the sharp edge of the former’s belt buckle and, within one high heeled stride, was stripped clear of its former perch on Mrs. Parnell’s perfectly sculpted bottom. What’s more her near escape from Rebecca Ross’ clutches was foiled completely when the sexy emerald eyed mom – now completely naked save for her very high Prada heels – ran headlong into a still shocked – and still very exposed --Nicole Silver. As the audience continued to howl at the collective comeuppance of the two completely deserving prima donnas, the ladies’ collision signaled the start of the comedy’s final chapter.

On the one hand, the force of the crash knocked Danielle back into the all too eager hands of Rebecca Ross who after securely grabbing the wrist of the once confident mother of three proceeded quickly to pull the sexy diva over her knee for a humiliatingly public comeuppance. Meanwhile, finally uprooted from center stage by the force of Mrs. Parnell’s errant escape, Nicole Silver was teetering aimlessly on her own towering heels until her less than graceful stutter step caused her to fall headlong across the lap of her son Julian who in all of the commotion remained still seated in his original spot on stage.

For the already howling audience, the site of these two delectable women, each a tremendous tease, with one splayed across the lap of a very angry Rebecca Ross and the other over the knees of her own son, only added to the Vaudevillian bedlam. The cohort of high school boys, who made up the majority of the crowd, was going wild. More than once they had been subjected to Nicole Silver’s arrogance and scolding and those who were friends with Will Parnell, particularly Callum Duncan and his friend Hank, had been put down by the imperious Mrs. Parnell too often to count. The women in the crowd were in stitches. Rachel Miras had been subjected to Danielle’s taunts for as long as she could remember and this display made that all worthwhile.

As between the prospective on-stage spankers, young Julian Silver was the first to act. Years of being ridiculed, babied, embarrassed and – too often – spanked by his mother welled up inside the boy and despite the maternal bond between them he began to paddle Nicole’s firm behind with his bare hand.

“Jules, what are you doing,” yelped Nicole, “this isn’t right . . . I’m your mother.”

“And this is to make sure you remember that,” raged her son, as his spanks rained down harder, “remember that you’re my mother and not some 20 year old school . . . mascot.”

“But Jules,” Nicole protested, her mind becoming delirious with humiliation, “I just want to look pretty for all the boys . . . to be the prettiest mom at school . . . to be top mom . . . like it says on my panties.”

As Jules reached down to tear those very panties off his now passed out mother, Rebecca Ross was making quick work of the firm bottom of Mrs. Danielle Parnell whose own mid was reeling with confusion. What just happened? Where is my beautiful Prada dress – and my sexy underwear? I’m naked!! Why are all these nobodies – these pathetic soccer moms -- laughing at me . . . and pointing? Don’t their husbands and sons want me anymore? Oh my God Will . . . did I tear his pants off . . . did he see mommy’s boobies? But as her thoughts became increasingly incoherent her voice rang out clearly.

“Please . . . Rebecca . . . please stop,” cried out the mortified MILF.

“Oh – so now you know my name do you,” responded Mrs. Adam Hess.

“Of course Rebecca . . . I mean Miss Ross . . . I mean Mrs. Hess . . . I was only teasing before.”

“And that’s your problem Missy,” Rebecca stormed while continuing to tan Danielle’s reddening hide, “you’re always teasing. Shaking that little ass of yours at my husband, flirting with him to get what you want and then humiliating him in – and me – in front of everyone. Well that ends here – do you understand me!”

“But . . . but every man wants me . . . don’t they . . . don’t you Adam . . . and Callum . . . and Jules . . . I work the parking lot like a runway . . . don’t I boys,” mumbled the disgraced Danielle as her confidence disappeared and her mind went all but blank.

“I said,” screamed Rebecca, “DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME!!”

And as the wild crowd cheered crazily, the once proud Danielle Marie Parnell began to come finally undone.

“Yes, ma’am,” she squeaked, “I understand. It ends here. I’m a bad, bad girl . . . a naughty tease. But I won’t be a bad girl anymore, I promise.”

“And you and your son will have nothing to do with this school ever again will you,” pressed Rebecca.

“No ma’am, never again, we don’t belong here,” Danielle conceded before she too passed out amid the deafening cheers of the assembled crowd.


As the Jesuit monks who administered the school quickly covered the two naked women on stage, Katherine Wray, unseen as she slipped one hand from beneath her dress and the other from the unzipped pants of a now depleted Adam Hess, thought wickedly to herself, “sometimes a plan just comes together perfectly.”

I don't think so. Other than a handful of awkwardly structured parts and a few tiny grammatical slips, it seems pretty close to perfect structurally. As to content, I put it at your best story so far.

I agree, it's certainly up to your usual (high) standard. I've never really been into erotic stories and I used to ignore this part of the forum, but yours have introduced me to them. I have since found more that I enjoy, so thanks for inspiring me Chasmo. Could you recommend a good site for similar ones to your own?

Thanks for your kind words and genuinely happy that my stories have provided you with an opportunity to enjoy the ENF genre. As far as recommendations go, take a look at the great thread started by amf85 earlier today entitled "My Hall of Fame." He hits on some truly top drawer sites and authors whose writings I'm sure you'll enjoy. My personal favorite is obo but all of them are fantastic and Gao's art is to me the best of breed!

Oh, great. Nice coincidence that thread popped up, I'll check them out when I get a chance.