Hey
 

Wow this was my first time reading this story so I had to start from the beginning but I'm glad I did but I think would be more embarassing if carano and Danielle matched underwear lol but anyways awesome story and I hope there is more like this in the future

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.

Model U.N.: An International Incident
 

With no small debt to Hal Roach Studios, Stan Laurel and obo, I present below Danielle Parnell take on the Beginner's Luck Story. I hope you enjoy.


Early one Friday morning the attention of every man standing along the main concourse of Washington, D.C.’s Ronald Reagan National Airport was drawn to only one sight. Walking purposefully before them, in 4.5” calfskin, leopard-print d'Orsay heels, that supported a spectacular set of lithe and athletic legs wrapped in a pair of high fashion distressed Capri length jeans, that in turn encased the most fabulous ass most of them had ever seen -- was Mrs. Danielle Parnell.

The 43 year old brunette had finished off her ensemble that morning with a tight fitting white tank top that permitted the slightest bit of her tone tanned midriff to show when she walked and that also revealed her perfectly fit arms to their full effect. A thin gold-buckled leopard print belt encircled her waist and, around her shoulders, to ensure that the look was “appropriate,” she wore a white large-mesh wrap that was tied loosely beneath her ample 34Cs which were profiled magnificently by her top. Her hair was tied back in a pony-tail by a small leopard print scarf and aviator shades sat atop the forehead of her perfectly made up face – her emerald eyes were radiant in the morning sun.

The fetching Mrs. Parnell could sense the men eyeing her and she loved every second of it; for the vision that had entranced each of them that morning was also her favorite – more than anything else she loved herself. But what she loved almost as much is how her beauty, sophistication and confidence rendered other women around her almost invisible. How when she walked into any room, whatever gathered assemblage of “pathetic” men might be there immediately turned away from their wives, girlfriends and daughters, and how the women’s loss of attention humiliated both them and their wayward-eyed husbands, boyfriends and fathers. They’re all such “losers” she would think to herself smiling.

Today was no different, for as the haughty Mrs. Parnell strutted down the concourse, essentially shouting “you can look but don’t even dream of touching” to the men, the women along the route could be seen unsuccessfully reprimanding their husbands and boyfriends for ogling the little show-off while staring daggers at the tease who had stolen all attention from them.

Danielle had come to the airport to pick up her nephew – Owen Parnell, or “Slow’en” as his aunt privately referred to him – the 18 year old son of her husband’s brother and his wife Andrea. To his entire family’s surprise, Owen had won the Midwest Regional Model U.N. debate tournament and was arriving in the nation’s capital to compete in the international championship. Although Mrs. Parnell looked down upon her husband Rob’s extended family as a gaggle of “flyover country hillbillies” – particularly that dumpy, stay-at-home mom Andrea -- Rob had played to his wife’s own vanity by suggesting that Owen could greatly benefit as a debater from Mrs. Parnell’s expertise as one of Washington’s most accomplished trial attorneys.

Flattered by her husband’s assessment, with which of course she completely agreed, Danielle reluctantly consented to help prepare Owen for the next night’s big debate. The quid pro quo demanded by the always imperious alpha lawyer was that she would suffer neither any resistance from her nephew to what she thought was best nor permit his parents to make an appearance until the evening of the debate itself.

When these “terms” were conveyed by Danielle’s husband to his brother and sister-in-law, Andrea Parnell was furious.

“Who does that little east coast prima donna think she is,” the angry mom ranted.

“Poor Owen is intimidated enough by that woman. And telling us we need to stay away from our own son until she deems it acceptable . . . I’ve never liked her and I don’t like this one bit.”

That said, with money tight – the east coast Parnell’s had agree to pay the cost of Owen’s flight – and the credentials of Danielle as a fantastic public speaker beyond dispute, Andrea and her husband had agreed to Mrs. Parnell’s terms.

Standing confidently outside her nephew’s arrival gate, Danielle at last spotted Owen leaving the plane. The wan, undersized boy looked every bit the nerd that he was, thought his fashionable aunt. Standing only 5’ 4” tall, young Owen emerged from the jet-way wearing “high water” khaki pants, white athletic socks, running shoes and a faded World of Warcraft t-shirt better suited to a ten year old than a high school senior.

“What a dork,” Danielle thought to herself, “how did I ever agree to this nonsense?”

“Auntie D, auntie D,” Owen shouted as he spotted Mrs. Parnell.

“Owen,” waived Danielle, “I’m over here -- and it’s Aunt Danielle if you don’t mind – you’re not a little boy anymore.”

Owen cringed, knowing this would be only the first of many corrections and reprimands to come over the next two days. He couldn’t believe his parents were forcing him to spend the weekend of the national debate championships “training” with his stuck-up aunt. Her withering glances and constant criticisms always made him nervous and he feared with her lording over him all weekend that the good work he’d done to get here would be undermined.

“What’s more,” the intimidated teen thought to himself, “she always manages to make my mom feel bad whether it’s about her clothes, her weight, her exercise habits . . . and I know she calls me Slow’en. She’s an arrogant snob who is just not very nice.”

“Stand up straight young man,” his aunt chided him, stirring him from his musings about how miserable the trip would be, “and put some spring in that step. We need to go shopping to buy you a new suit and for me to pick up something as well. Lesson number one, part of being a winner is looking the part.”

“Yes ma'am,” Owen cringed, infuriated by his aunt's rebuke but too frightened to do anything about it.

As Mrs. Parnell led her nephew back toward the airport's parking lot, to the lustful gaze of any man that spotted the sexy sway of her jean encased hips and bottom, she spied an unfamiliar face waiving them down. A rather rotund middle-aged Asian woman and what appeared to be her junior high school son or grandson seemed to recognize Owen. The little boy, who couldn’t have been more than 5’ tall, was wearing a pair of ratty brown loafers, what appeared to be pleated khaki pants and an over-sized shapeless black sweater that in turn covered up white turtle neck shirt. He was also wearing a baseball cap on top of his bespectacled head.

“Hi Owen,” said the younger of the two.

“Oh -- hi Erica,” said Owen to his aunt's surprise. ”This is my aunt Danielle. Aunt Danielle, this is Erica Lee from Shanghai. She's the Chinese national champion; we'll be facing one another for the international championship.”

“Hello Mrs. Parnell,” said Erica in flawless English, bowing deeply, rather than merely from the shoulder, as a sign of deep respect to Danielle. “It is a great honor to meet you.”

Eyeing the eighteen year old girl curiously, in large part because she had mistaken her for a boy, the imperious Mrs. Danielle Parnell, without a hint of warmth and bowing not one iota, held out her bejeweled hand and offered a “charmed, I'm sure.”

And then, with a devilish glint in her emerald eyes and while, thanks to the benefit of her sky high heels, towering over the tiny Erica, Danielle casually remarked, “it's unfortunate that you've traveled so far only to lose dear. Under my tutelage, you can count on Owen being more than a match for you tomorrow. Look at the bright side though, being in the U.S. for a spell will give you and . . . your grandmother . . . an opportunity to find some more stylish clothes and maybe even get a nice haircut. Good day now.”

With that, the self-satisfied, preening diva turned on her 4” heels and led the now humiliated Owen to her car.

“Your grandmother,” huffed Erica's still stunned mom, “why that obnoxious little American hussy . . . I'm no grandmother . . . someone needs to be put her in her place.”

“Calm down mom,” said Erica calmly, although still somewhat shaken by the sight of the arrogant lawyer staring down at her dismissively, “it's going to be fine. I still feel pretty good about my chances on Sunday and the world has a way of dealing with women like that in the end.”

“I certainly know what I'd like to do to her end,” her mom responded, and mother and daughter shared a good laugh while at the same time spotting in the distance the woman they recognized as the mom from Erica's sponsor family.

Approaching them with a warm smile and an outstretched hand, that woman politely introduced herself, “you must be Erica, and you must be Mrs. Lee. I'm Rachel Miras -- and it's so very nice to meet you in person.”

* * *

As Danielle eased her Mercedes into a parking spot in Washington's most fashionable mall, Owen finally found the courage to speak up.

“I don't think you needed to be so hard on Erica back there,” he mumbled.

“Excuse me young man,” chided his aunt. ”Are you trying to tell me what sort of behavior is appropriate? That girl is the competition -- she's not your pal. Lesson number two -- intimidate your adversary -- remember that. Now let's get you a suit so we can get to work preparing.”

With that, Owen's overbearing aunt led him into a very fancy men's boutique where, after air-kissing the pompous manager, Mrs. Parnell directed him to find Owen a suit appropriate for the debate. As the fastidious shop-keep headed off to the suit racks, Danielle walked Owen back to the dressing area and took a seat in front of the tailor's station as her nephew went into a curtained room to change. Almost immediately, two female sales associates appeared with the suits the manager had selected.

“We'll just hand these over to him so he can try them on,” said one of the young women to Danielle with a smile.

“We don't have time for that,” snipped the impatient Mrs. Parnell. ”Owen,” she demanded, “get out here now so that you can try on these suits and have one of them tailored in time for the debate.”

“But Aunt Danielle,” came the sheepish boy’s reply, “I'm in my underwear.”

“I said now Owen. It's nothing these people haven't seen before,” his aunt chided, not caring a wit about the embarrassment it would bring to her colossally shy nephew. It's a wonder the boy is such a successful public speaker she thought.

Knowing he had no choice, Owen Parnell slinked from behind the curtain of the dressing room, wearing nothing but his white cotton briefs, to be fitted for his new suit. As the two young women attempted to suppress their laughter, the now clearly annoyed Mrs. Parnell, who saw the skinny, pale boy in front of her as no less than a personal embarrassment, loudly called out to the absent manager, “can you also try to find him a pair or two of boxer shorts.”

Looking back at Owen, and in front of the now giggling sales girls, she added, “it's time for you to stop wearing little boy's underwear dear.”

Owen turned three shades of red, his humiliation now matched only by the anger he felt for his beautiful yet mean-spirited relative.

“I wonder how she'd like it if everyone saw her in her underwear,” thought the embarrassed teen, for the first time thinking lustfully of the diva who was his uncle’s wife. “I bet she wouldn't be so high-and-mighty then.”

Once Owen had been fitted for his new suit, Mrs. Parnell dragged him into a nearby women’s boutique to wait while she quickly tried on some new outfits herself. After air-kissing yet another obsequious fashion store manager, this time a towering blonde who looked every bit Heidi Klum's doppelganger, Danielle selected a few summer dresses and other outfits that the staff obediently brought back to the changing rooms. Not unlike the prior shop, the dressing rooms in this boutique had curtains to separate them from the store at large and, as the final dress was handed to his aunt through one such curtain the attendant failed to pull it completely closed. Realizing that the resulting gap permitted him to see his obnoxious yet stunning aunt through the mirror, and then spotting her reaching down to grab the bottom of her tight white tank top, Owen stumbled to get his iPhone in hand. But when he raised the phone to his eye to snap what he was sure to be a picture suitable to fuel his night time fantasies and get some revenge on his arrogant aunt, he found himself face-to-face with a scowling Mrs. Danielle Parnell.

“You little pervert,” she scolded him loudly enough to attract the attention of everyone in the shop. “How dare you invade my privacy? You're an inappropriate, shameful little boy. Do you think women exist merely to be objectified? Wait until I tell your mother! I should put you over my knee right here.”

With that, the dominating uber mom grabbed her nephew roughly by his narrow shoulders and escorted him out of the store to her car. On the one hand, Danielle was genuinely shocked at her nephew's lewd and licentious behavior but, on the other hand, as much as she craved the attention that her spectacular beauty, fashion sense and confidence drew from any man who laid eyes on her, she rejoiced even more in the opportunity to humiliate him if she “caught” him staring. That the “man” in this case was her boyish nephew made no difference. In fact, Mrs. Parnell's threat to tell Owen's mother was not so much intended to further humiliate him -- that ship had sailed -- but to make clear to that dowdy haus frau Andrea that even a mamma's boy like her son forgot about any other women when Danielle was around -- the nerdy little pervert.

Suffice it to say that the time between the incident at the women's boutique and the prelude to the debate passed most uneasily for young Owen. Humiliated to his core by his aunt's public tongue lashing, the young boy steadily lost confidence in his ability to successfully engage what he knew would be a tough contender in Erica Lee. What's more, Danielle's "tutelage" was really nothing more than a recitation of her “lessons” for successful debate.

“Lesson number three, ‘show no mercy’ . . . lesson number four, ‘winning isn't everything, it's the only thing’ . . . lesson number five, ‘never let them see you sweat,’” Owen kept repeating to himself, each time becoming more nervous by remembering his aunt scolding him in the store. The poor boy was a mess.

* * *

Finally, the big day had arrived. With only a few hours left before the debate was set to begin, Danielle dispatched her nephew and her husband off to the evening’s venue -- the cavernous atrium of the Ronald Reagan Center just a few blocks east of the White House. With her own three kids at their grandparents for the weekend, getting Owen and Rob out of the house would allow Danielle the time she needed to luxuriate and prepare for the event in peace.

After soaking in the large claw-footed tub that sat nestled in a marble alcove of her sumptuous master bathroom, Mrs. Parnell slipped into a very short silk robe to begin preparing for the evening’s event. Sitting at her well lit dressing table Danielle expertly applied a tasteful hue of eye shadow that caused her emerald green eyes to pop and a ruby red lipstick aptly named “America’s Finest.” Her face looked stunning. After blowing out her luxurious mane of brown hair, and with a coy smile at her reflection in the mirror, the glamorous attorney softly cooed to herself “perfect – as usual.”

With her hair and make-up complete, the narcissistic Mrs. Parnell slipped on a pair of 5” blue and white spectator platform heels. Opening her short robe just a hint, Danielle took in the glorious view before her – her pert 34Cs looked like the breasts of a twenty year old sitting proudly above her toned abs; the narrow landing strip of perfectly manicured hair above her sex gave way to a pair of athletic legs honed by a singular dedication to fitness and made even more sexy by the height of her shoes. Lifting her robe as she turned in place Mrs. Parnell couldn’t help but groan at the sight of her perfect ass.

“Every man wants you,” she teased her reflection, “and every woman wants to be you.”

Satisfied as usual with her sex appeal, Danielle ambled into her cavernous walk-in closet to get dressed. Thinking about what to wear, Mrs. Parnell grinned devilishly. Tonight was about the U.S versus China and she intended to dress the party – completely. Opening one of the many mahogany and glass drawers on the wall in front of her, Danielle withdrew the tiniest of thongs. After slipping it up her long, tan legs and over her perfectly proportioned hips, and fastening the matching push-up bra at the cavern formed by her ample bosom, Danielle smiled proudly at her reflection. The matching stars-and-stripes lingerie set was perfect. The translucent triangle of fabric in front of the barely-there panties had a blue field covered with white stars, while the white waist band led to much smaller piece of red and white striped fabric in the rear that ultimately bisected her perfect ass. The matching bra, also barely there, had soft cups that matched the front of the panties; it was supported by one red and one strap.

Lost lustily in her own sexy vision, Danielle reflected on her nephew’s futile attempt at spying on her. “Is this what you’d like to see Auntie D wearing little boy . . . well . . . is it . . . . Slow’en,” she whispered mockingly in the empty room.

“Well dream on you slovenly perverted nerd, because it’s never going to happen.”

Laughing heartily to herself about emasculating her awkward nephew, Danielle also thought about that boyish Erica Lee – the Chinese champion.

“It’s a good thing you’re only facing my half-witted nephew little girl,” the fearsome litigator mused “because I’d wipe the floor with you and your fat, frumpy grandma. You’d be lucky to still have those Mao jackets on your backs when I was finished with you.”

With that thought bringing yet another smile to her gorgeous face, Mrs. Parnell finished dressing. After putting on a white, pleated, wrap-around skirt that came down almost to her knees, Danielle slipped into a red-and-white horizontally striped knit tank top that profiled the fine tone of her fabulous arms and plunged at the neckline to, while still “appropriate,” showcase her fabulous breasts to their full effect. Save for her 2 karat, round, flawless diamond earrings, Danielle’s jewelry was entirely costume – a chunky blue necklace around her neck with coordinating red and white bracelets around each wrist. Smiling again at her favorite image as it smiled back from the mirror, the patriotic Mrs. Danielle Parnell donned a navy blue bolero jacket and a straw boater style hat – finished with a red, white and blue silk ribbon above the brim -- to finish off her fashionable all-American look. Confident as usual, Danielle left the house for the debate.

Walking into the atrium of the Ronald Reagan Center, the stunning Mrs. Parnell could sense the effect she had on the men in the assembling crowd and she reveled in it. For their part, the lucky males in attendance that night were mesmerized by the gorgeous woman before them, bedecked in her high fashion Americana. The women in the gathering audience on the other hand were already seething at the little show-off parading before them but were powerless to do a thing about it. Aware of her dominance, and enjoying it thoroughly, the preening diva put a little extra sway in her hips as she headed down the center aisle of what would soon be a packed house of over one thousand people. Her next stop was backstage, from where ultimately she would watch the evening's event, but for now where she would give her nephew some final pointers.

Owen was sweating bullets when he saw his aunt approaching. Thankfully his mother, Andrea, who had arrived directly from the airport per his aunt's instructions, was still with him to provide support.

Determined to break his lack of resolve, Owen's domineering aunt went on the offensive.

“Pull yourself together Owen,” Mrs. Parnell chided as her attempted stage whisper attracted more attention than she or her nephew would have liked. “You’re a grown man for God’s sake. Do you really need your mommy to calm you down?”

“And Andrea,” continued the officious prima donna, “you’re doing him nothing but a disservice by being here. Please just go to your seat.”

“But . . . but . . . he’s my son . . ,” mumbled Owen’s shocked but cowed mother.

“A wonderful statement of the obvious,” scolded Danielle, “now it’s time you got off the stage.”

Completely intimidated by her overbearing sister-in-law, Andrea skulked back to her seat just as the debate moderator could be heard introducing Erica Lee. When the young Chinese woman stepped to the podium, Danielle, who had not set eyes on Owen's competition backstage, was shocked by what she saw. No longer a poster-child for androgyny, the stunning 18 year-old walked confidently across the stage in a pair of 4.5” black Manolo Blahnik heels, a tastefully tight leather pencil skirt and a crisp, white, fitted, three-quarter sleeved, cotton oxford top that, with the top two buttons undone made it clear to all that the otherwise slight but fit girl had a very impressive bust line. With her hair up in a tight bun, black cat-eye glasses sitting on her nose and a wearing a very bright shade of red lipstick, Erica Lee looked every bit the formidable debater.

“The sl*tty little tramp,” Danielle thought, shaken somewhat by the Chinese beauty. “Nothing but a girl in women’s clothing.”

Once Owen had been introduced, the debate began in earnest -- and Owen’s meltdown continued. On topic after topic -- from the Ebola epidemic to the rise of ISIS in the Middle East, from the financial crisis in Europe to the weakening Chinese economy -- he was being bested by Erica whose thorough preparation and unyielding command of the subject matter showed hers to be the superior skill at every turn. Watching from her seat, Andrea’s heart broke for her son who before this weekend had only gained confidence from his experience debating. Her blood was boiling because she knew the cause of the current predicament was his overbearing aunt. I only hope someday that woman gets a taste of her own medicine Andrea seethed. That day was just around the corner.

Standing backstage in her patriotic best, Danielle was nearly apoplectic. She saw Owen’s pathetic performance as an indictment of her country and her methods and she was not about to let the little fool ruin either one's good name. Grabbing a long hook-ended transom poll, the determined lawyer made her way along the back of the stage curtain until that was all that separated her from her flailing nephew -- it was time to pull Slow'en off the stage -- by force if necessary. Tossing her blue bolero jacket to the floor so as not to have to sully her highly moisturized knees, and with her straw boater hat still in place, Mrs. Danielle Parnell lifted the heavy blue curtain behind Owen and began to inch out. Luckily, no one in the audience could see her as she tried to hook her hapless nephew's pant leg.

On stage, the topic had changed to the influence of pop-culture on modern society – in particular the objectification of women. As Erica Lee launched into a withering critique of the issue Owen, in a near catatonic state, began to daydream. Looking lustily at his opponent, he thought, “I’d like to objectify you Ms. Lee – with your leather skirt and cat-eye glasses.” But as Erica continued her diatribe Owen’s thoughts turned to his sexy but unbearably cruel aunt who had emasculated him at every turn this weekend.

“I wonder how she'd like it if everyone saw her in her underwear,” he thought to himself again. In a few moments he would know.

While watching events unfold from the comfort of the auditorium's control room, Rachel Miras, Erica's American sponsor "mom" and one of Mrs. Parnell's neighbors outside D.C., spied on a video monitor the worried visage of the usually hyper-confident Danielle poking out from beneath the curtained backdrop on stage. With a long pole in hand, the arrogant narcissist appeared poised to pull her nephew backwards. The comely counselor also seemed to be mumbling something -- but what thought Rachel. Looking down at the control panel before her -- and outside the notice of the soundboard's technician -- Mrs. Miras flipped a switch labeled "Stage Floor Mic" from off to on.

“You idiot,” a highly amplified but faceless female voice suddenly broke into the debate, to the shock of everyone in attendance.

“Can you do nothing right," it continued, trumpeting from the Reagan Center's loud speakers but as yet without a known point of origin.

"I waste an entire weekend trying to help you but you’re just a pathetic loser . . . and a pervert," the mystery voice continued, as the competitors, audience members and moderators, laughing somewhat uncomfortably, began craning their heads to see who was speaking.

"And what do I get for my efforts anyway . . . NOTHING . . . nothing but a Chinese girl beating your ass. Why didn't you just explain that -- to you -- objectifying a woman means spying on your aunt changing at a clothing store.”

With that, and for the first time, Danielle heard it -- amidst the silence of the shocked auditorium -- the echo of her own voice. Thanks to Rachel Miras, Mrs. Parnell's self-awareness came hand-in-glove with the crowd's, for at that moment a giant screen above the stage flickered to life showing the stunned diva, on her knees, pole in hand, with her straw-boat hatted head poking out from under the curtain. The daffy look on her usually smug face telegraphed the humiliation she felt at having all those present hear the insults she usually targeted only at individually terrified recipients. Still unaware of the floor microphone below her, the mortified mother of three shamefully shouted out, "I'VE NEVER BEEN SO EMBARRASSED IN MY LIFE!"

Noticing that three of the curtain's weighted hooks had brushed over Danielle’s very firm backside and settled under the hem of her skirt, and having been on the receiving end of more than one of the preening prima donna's put downs, Mrs. Miras smiled to herself, "wanna’ bet!”

Frozen in place by the sound of her own terrified voice, Mrs. Parnell failed to notice, until it was too late, that the hooks from the curtain had snagged onto the hem of her all-American dress. As Mrs. Miras, now manning the control panel herself with the encouragement of the male technicians, caused the curtain to climb quickly from the stage floor, Danielle’s once stylish white wrap-around pleated skirt opened wide to the cheers and laughter of the men and women in the crowd.

“Now it’s show time,” said Rachel to her new friends as she accelerated the ascent of the curtain.

On stage, the once supremely confident Mrs. Parnell was coming undone. No sooner had her skirt unclasped and left her body than did the curtain hooks catch on the back of her red and white striped cotton tank-top sweater -- pulling it up over her fit arms and ample bosom before tearing it completely off. In an instant, the bane of Owen's existence had been publicly stripped to her 5" blue and white spectator platform heels, her tiny stars-and-stripes thong and her matching push up bra. While every man watching could feel the blood flowing to his nether regions, the women in the audience, particularly those who had watched the little tease parading into the arena only thirty minutes or so before, went wild.

"Nice panties sweetheart," yelled one.

"You're a great American," teased another.

"That's what you get for messing with my boy," cried a thrilled and howling Andrea Parnell.

Danielle's head was spinning. What had just happened, where were her stylish clothes, her armor? She was the one who was supposed to be in control . . . not these peons. How dare these people laugh at her? And then . . . oh my god, I'm practically naked . . . I have to do something . . . they’re all looking at me . . . even . . . oh no . . . even Slow’en. Without waiting for her mind to catch up, and while her hands alternatively shielded her thong covered bottom and her glorious 34Cs, Danielle's body made a break for it. But as she attempted to run off stage, the now incredibly confident Owen, happier than he'd been in days, picked up the transom rod and lunged after the fleeing sexpot. As the pole's hooked end snagged the back of her red, white and blue bra, the nearly naked Mrs. Parnell came to an abrupt stop before the flimsy garment . . . strained to its breaking point . . . unclipped in front and flew into the audience.

With the laughter and cat calls nearing a crescendo, and with her spectacular tits now on display for all to see, the nearly broken show-off, in an effort to hasten her escape, kicked off her sexy platform heels. Thinking the end was in sight, Danielle was shocked to run squarely into Erica Lee, who in her own 4" heels now towered over her previous day's tormentor. Remembering how rude the arrogant American had been to her, the gorgeous Erica Lee mockingly remarked, “it's unfortunate that you've traveled so far only to lose dear. Look on the bright side though, given your current state of dress it will be nice for you to have an opportunity to find some more stylish clothes and maybe even get a cute haircut. Oh, by the way, consider it a blessing that this Chinese girl doesn’t beat your ass.”

Standing before over one thousand guffawing people, wearing nothing but her tiny thong and her straw boater hat, Mrs. Danielle Parnell had been truly defeated and, with the humiliation welling up insider her, it appeared that the former alpha mom would soon topple from the stage. As she began to pass out, however, she was saved from a hard fall by the arms of her nephew, Owen, who as he gently eased her over his bony knee for a sound public spanking began to loudly repeat what to her was by now a familiar refrain, "lesson number one, 'part of being a winner is looking the part.'"

Whack . . .

"Lesson number two, 'intimidate your adversary -- remember that!'"

Whack, whack . . .

“Lesson number three, ‘show no mercy.’"

Whack, whack, whack, whack . . .

“Lesson number four, ‘winning isn't everything, it's the only thing’ . . . lesson number five, ‘never let them see you sweat.’”

As the fully erect teen rained smacks down on his humiliated aunt's fantastic ass, with her boater hat now firmly on his head, he thought he heard the broken diva utter one final thing before she passed out completely.

“Is this what you’d like to see Auntie D wearing . . . ,” she asked longingly and sweetly.

“Indeed it is, you little b*tch,” thought Owen, “indeed it is.”

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!!

PAWS for the Cause
 

Had Norman Rockwell set out to paint a particular American town, it would have been Davidson, Maryland. Nestled along the South River, the leafy village evoked a simpler time. Davidson's homes, a mix of large but unimposing white clapboard and brick manses, often set back from its quiet tree lined streets by expansive well-manicured lawns, evidenced a quiet, kind and confident prosperity. Although its residents found themselves almost equidistant between Baltimore and Washington, D.C. -- each a mere 20 or so miles away and where many of Davidson's townsfolk worked -- the bucolic bedroom community was a mere five minute drive from Maryland's harbor front capital of Annapolis, and it was there that many of the good people of Davidson would while away their spring and summer hours. In fact, the spectacular environs of downtown Annapolis, home to the United States Naval Academy and -- long ago for a very short time -- the capital of the United States, hosted many a charitable event that relied on its coffers being filled by Davidson's affluent residents.

One of the most renowned of these, which drew participants and spectators alike from all around the Annapolis area, was Davidson's annual "PAWS for the Cause" held each year in early June. The daylong event, which raised money for local animal welfare, consisted of a host of activities including a pet washing station, doggy obstacle course, adoption fair, silent auction and -- at day's end -- a fashion parade where dog owners of all stripes and their pets would walk the "runway" together for the entertainment of the assembled throng. Like Davidson itself, and as Rockwell would have painted it, PAWS for the Cause was all-American fun -- neither showy nor brash.

The same could not be said for one of Davidson's most prominent, and arguably most attractive, residents -- Mrs. Danielle Parnell. Easing her very showy white 2014 Range Rover Sport into an available spot in downtown Annapolis -- brashly pulling in despite another driver -- Rachel Miras -- waiting patiently for the space to open -- the fetching alpha-mom prepared to drop off her three kids, their dalmatian Charlie and the Parnell family nanny, Alia, for the morning kick-off of this year's PAWS for the Cause. Stepping out into the June air, the spectacularly fit 43 year old stunner caught the attention of every man around. As the sun glinted off the front of her mirrored aviator shades, those lucky enough to spy her were treated to the sight of her well-tanned and toned legs standing atop a pair of 4.5", yellow, peep-toe, wedge heels; her flawless ass hugged by a pair of white jean shorts that came down barely to mid-thigh -- appropriate but spectacular. A long yellow, black and white flowered scarf ran beneath the belt loops of her shorts and, up top, the fashionable Mrs. Parnell wore a very form fitting black cotton tank that emphasized nicely the swell of her ample 34C breasts as well as her tight midsection and fit arms. Danielle's shoulder length brown hair, that framed her beautiful, emerald-eyed face, blew gently in the warm summer breeze.

"Stay out of trouble you three -- and keep any eye on Charlie," the gorgeous mom directed her offspring, "and nothing inappropriate -- do you hear me."

"Yes mom," the three Parnell kids -- Will, 13, Anna 11 and Maria 9 -- echoed in chorus, "nothing inappropriate."

"Mind those attitudes," replied their mother not even half kidding, "or you'll find yourselves back home in no time." And then, to Alia, Danielle continued, "keep an eye on them will you, I'll be back later for the fashion parade -- this town won't know what hit them when they see what I've got planned."

"Of course, Mrs. Parnell," said Alia sweetly while thinking to herself that her boss certainly had no lack of ego.

As the ceaselessly sexy lawyer sashayed to the local Starbucks to grab her trademark cappuccino for the short ride home, the fantastic motion of her pert bottom became the instant focus of soccer dads, weekend warriors and mailmen alike -- and Danielle Parnell loved it. To her, the thrill of teasing men was matched by very few things. Among them was the joy she felt when, upon "catching" an unsuspecting man spying her beauty, she publicly and loudly took him to task with a, "what would your wife think of the way you're looking at me Mr. Smith," or a "how dare you, Mr. Jones." The delight the haughty uber-MILF got from actually calling out men, however, was dwarfed by the elation she derived from the impact their emasculation had on the chastened men's wives and girlfriends because, at the top of Danielle Parnell's list of favorite things, was the love she had for herself. In her mind, other women existed merely to confirm her own superiority -- in her presence the universe of dowdy soccer moms, overweight Zumba class attendees and stay-at-home haus fraus simply ceased to exist -- and they knew it -- losers.

Smiling as she thought about the lustful looks directed at her, Danielle pulled open the door to the world's most popular coffee establishment and, walking in, spied a collection of the very women she despised. Sitting at a small table sipping on their caffeine laden libations were Katherine Wray, Rachel Miras and Nicole Silver. As she raised her expensive sunglasses from the slope of her perfect nose to the top of her windblown hair, Mrs. Parnell flashed her best fake smile at her three "lesser" neighbors.

"Why good morning Danielle," enthused the waifish Katherine Wray, "are you excited for the big day?"

The 5' 8" strawberry-blonde Mrs. Wray, an avid runner and Nashville native, whose own legs were nothing to sneeze at, offended Danielle least of the three women. In fact, the ever-confident Mrs. Parnell suspected the athletic Mrs. Wray's marriage was a mere beard and that the closeted bi-sexual Katherine harbored a secret crush on her.

"Not as excited as you are to see me I'm sure," Danielle offered condescendingly. As the equally titillated and humiliated Mrs. Wray blushed, the self-confident Mrs. Parnell silently added to herself with a smile, "and you can look all you want dear, but I don't swing that way and if I did you'd never make the cut."

With the prospect of lording over these "nobodies" coursing through her icy veins, the preening diva turned to Rachel Miras, "will you be accompanying that bull dog of yours again in the fashion show Rachel? It's just adorable how much you favor one other -- like mother and son."

The short, squat Mrs. Miras who was working harder than ever to lose some weight, seethed inwardly at the sharp barb but -- intimidated to her core by Danielle -- outwardly simply smiled stupidly. Mrs. Parnell on the other hand reveled in the cowed woman's discomfort delighting in the fact that within 10 minutes not only had she taken Rachel's parking spot but left her looking the fool.

Finally, as the handsome young male barista handed the haughty lawyer her cappuccino -- "on the house" -- Mrs. Parnell set her sights on the red-headed Nicole Silver who, like Danielle, was a lawyer in Washington, D.C.

"Will your son and that troublesome mutt of yours be performing for us again this year Nicole," Danielle provoked Mrs. Silver, referring to an unfortunate incident the year before when Louie -- the Silver family's 100 pound standard poodle -- caught wind of a squirrel as Nicole's young son Julian was walking him down the doggy fashion show runway. The poor boy, who though eighteen years old at the time still looked all of about twelve, was dragged off his feet, through a puddle of mud and out of his khaki shorts before he finally gave up the ghost and let go of the leash. Danielle of course, who had a front row seat to the unfortunate episode, was delighted by the "little nerd's" undoing and in a voice she thought to be sotto voce was overheard by those around her to comment to no one in particular "nice 'manties' he's wearing -- do you think he shares those with his mom?"

Both enraged and mortified by the mention of poor Jules' former misfortune, and with her voice controlled but strained, the 5'8", big-boned but by no means fat, Norwegian beauty responded, "actually Danielle, I'll be escorting Louie in tonight's charity fashion parade."

"What a relief," Danielle falsely empathized, "with someone your size on the leash any further secrets of your family's underpants -- thank God -- will likely remain unknown."

Nicole was rendered speechless and Danielle loved it. Somehow putting the Silver woman in her place provided Mrs. Parnell her greatest rush. Who does that Silver think she is anyway, she laughed to herself. The half-wit probably got her law degree through the mail . . . and the way she's always flaunting that chest of hers -- classless. A woman like that simply needs to be told who's boss -- smiled the glamorous alpha mom -- and now she knows -- it's me.

Feeling on top of the world, the sexy Mrs. Danielle Parnell pushed open the coffee house door and, as every male neck snapped to watch, strutted to her car with a broad smile on her beautiful face and a little extra sway in her shapely hips.

"Can you believe that woman," raged Nicole Silver at her coffee mates. "She strolls in here with her high heels and tight little shorts and proceeds to make fools of us while we do nothing about it. Why what I wouldn't give to take that little tease down a peg or two."

"You," countered the equally angry Rachel Miras, "she stole my parking spot . . . and told me I look like my dog. I don't . . . do I?"

"Of course you don't you ninny," scolded the still apoplectic Mrs. Silver. "Don't you see, that's what she wants . . . to undermine our confidence. She casually puts us down . . . you look like your dog . . . I'm too fat and my poor son is a panty-waisted nerd . . . Katherine over there is a lesbian . . . and then while we sit here -- stunned and humiliated -- she smiles, flips her hair and struts away."

"She's the one who needs to have that giant ego of hers undermined -- to be humiliated," continued Nicole.

Trying to break the tension, and lustfully imagining Mrs. Parnell's undoing, the aroused Mrs. Wray offered with a big smile, "boy would I like to see that . . . mmmm."

"Me too," laughed Mrs. Miras also picturing in her head a scenario where the ordinarily unflappable Mrs. Parnell was the one on the receiving end for once, "but let's just forget about it and enjoy the day."

"Forget about it," Nicole Silver practically shouted, "what do you mean forget about it? We have to do something . . ."

"Let it go Nicole," advised Katherine Wray in her soft Southern accent, "it's really nothing."

"Fine, if the two of you want to be losers -- have at it" blustered Nicole, "I'm taking a stand. Two can play at her game you know."

And then, getting up hastily to abandon her two friends, and without taking a moment to measure her words, Mrs. Nicole Silver arrogantly proclaimed, "once the men of this town catch a glimpse of me on the runway tonight they won't have a second thought for Little Miss Perfect."

As the statuesque redhead stormed off, the Starbucks door slamming behind her, Rachel Miras and Katherine Wray burst into laughter.

"She's almost as bad as the other one," Rachel joked.

"No kidding," added Katherine Wray smiling, "the two of them deserve each other."

Still giddy from the serving of humble pie she had heaped upon her pathetic neighbors earlier in the day, and having since then worked-out at her very exclusive gym to hone her spectacular body and stopped by an equally upscale spa for a massage, manicure, pedicure and haircut, the sultry Mrs. Parnell eased her high-end SUV down the long driveway to the Parnell family home to begin getting ready for the PAWS for the Cause fashion parade.

Although Danielle had promised her youngest daughter, the 9 year old Maria, that she could walk the runway tonight with the family dalmatian Charlie -- Mrs. Parnell still planned on looking her best.

"After all," she laughed to herself, "I owe the men of Davidson something hot to fantasize about when they make love to their hum drum wives."

"Of course," she smiled inwardly, looking at her nude reflection upon stepping from the tub in her exclusive marble bathroom, "that fantasy is the closest any of those losers will ever get to actually seeing this body."

Once the stunning solicitor had toweled off, slipped on her short silk robe and expertly made up her beautiful face -- taking care to apply a fire engine red gloss to her luscious lips -- she began to dress for the event. Although she and her three children would all be wearing some version of white outfits with black spots to show family unity for their over-sized dalmatian's big night -- Danielle had planned something special to wear beneath her otherwise innocent frock. Opening the small brown box on her dressing table -- that had arrived from a novelty lingerie shop only the day before -- Mrs. Danielle Parnell pulled out the tiniest of thongs. The translucent white lace triangle of fabric in front -- bedecked with black dalmatian spots -- was joined to the tiniest of similarly styled lace triangles behind by a bright red spaghetti thin waistband. But the coup de grace of the sexy panty was the word embroidered in silver glitter across its tiny front panel -- Cruella. As the suburban sexpot pulled the micro garment on over her perfect hips she chuckled to herself, "one look at this body and old Walt would melt right out of cryonic suspension."

After fastening the matching dalmatian push-up bra over her ample 34C breasts, Mrs. Parnell stepped into a pair of patent leather 5" peep-toe pumps each with a high black heel in support of a white shoe with black spots. Looking into the mirror the uber-MILF put her hands on her hips, turned to the side and, bending at the knees, pushed her fabulous ass out behind her. Lustfully admiring her fantastic reflection, and in her sexiest voice, the hot little lawyer pouted, "bark like a dog baby!!! Who's a bad girl? Who's a bad girl!! I am -- that's who."

Blowing a kiss to herself as she stood up, the devilish diva pulled on a white mini-skirt, bedecked with black dalmatian spots, that flared out from her incredibly toned waist and came down to just below mid-thigh. On top, the gorgeous attorney wore a tight black cotton ribbed tank top that showed off her incredibly fit arms as well as her firm, pert breasts. The black and white pearl choker she wore around her supple neck complemented the bracelets she wore on each wrist. To finish the look, Mrs. Parnell tied back her luxurious brown mane with a dalmatian spotted white silk scarf. Grabbing her oversize white leather Versace tote as she headed for the door, Danielle caught her reflection in the large hallway mirror in the Parnell foyer. Satisfied as always with her beauty and sex appeal, and reveling in the impact she'd soon have on the feckless men of Davidson -- and their loser wives -- the stunning alpha mom cooed lustfully at her reflection, "you're the hottest b*tch in town, baby."

And with that, Mrs. Parnell strutted out her front door for the short drive into Annapolis.

While her boss was primping at home, Alia, the Parnell family nanny, was busy making sure Will, Anna and Maria got changed into their dalmatian themed outfits and that Charlie got himself a good cleaning at the pet washing station. The 22 year old Ph.D. candidate, who had been watching the Parnell children now for almost four years, genuinely loved her three charges. The future professor was also quite fond of her high-powered boss -- Mrs. Danielle Parnell, Esquire -- who she knew cared for her kids if in her own unique way.

That said, on days like these, where their forceful mom pushed her offspring to dress in matching outfits, Alia certainly sympathized with their resistance and, having agreeably donned her own dalmatian themed ensemble to watch Charlie and Maria walk in the upcoming fashion parade, shared their embarrassment. All in all though, it was a small price to pay for an otherwise great job and, as Will, Anna and Maria emerged from the public restrooms nearest the PAWS for the Cause runway, the three of them and Alia, with Charlie in tow, waived at the family SUV pulling up nearby.

As the glamorous Mrs. Parnell stepped from the Range Rover's driver side door to greet her waiting family, every man within view craned his neck to take notice. Outfitted in her 5" polka dotted heels, flared white mini skirt with black spots that mimicked her nearby dalmatian and tight black tank-top, the suburban goddess was a fantasy-come-alive -- and she knew it. Turning around to see her kids and Alia, the gorgeous Danielle coolly but dismissively eyed her admirers deeming them completely unworthy of the object of their desire -- namely, herself -- but at the same time relishing the attention she knew they couldn't resist giving her -- the losers. With that, the now united Parnell clan, along with Charlie and Alia, headed for their seats.

In order to host the PAWS for the Cause fashion parade, the boardwalk that ran in from the foot of Annapolis harbor to the nearby, tree-lined parking lot had been transformed into a makeshift runway. A large white tent, complete with a curtain from where the evening's "models" would make their entrance covered the intersection between the boardwalk and the brick lined sidewalk that ran along the water's edge. On either side of the runway, perched upon the large green grass field that otherwise separated the parking lot from the water, were hundreds of white wooden folding chairs from where the families, friends, casual observers and donors of the annual pet parade would take in the evening's show.

As she led her small brood to their reserved seats along the boardwalk's edge, Mrs. Danielle Parnell, with a little extra sway in her hips, drank in the stares of the good men of Annapolis and Davidson, each of whom -- to her delight if not her surprise -- couldn't fail to notice the diminutive beauty's raw sex appeal. What's more, Danielle reveled in the consternation that the men's wives and girlfriends, on the one hand, directed at said men for ignoring them and on the other, focused on Danielle -- and her regal, incomparable beauty -- for stealing their men's attention.

"Let's face it ladies," she thought to herself in complete satisfaction, "they all want me . . . and you all want to be me."

Once the contented diva and her kids reached their seats, Danielle dispatched Alia to accompany Maria and what seemed a particularly excitable Charlie backstage for the show.

Meanwhile, from behind the curtained tent, Rachel Miras and Katherine Wray spotted the narcissistic Mrs. Parnell taking her seat for the show.

"Well it looks like ‘Miss Look at Me' has finally arrived," quipped Rachel, still smarting from being compared to her bulldog Max.

"It's hard to believe she’s going to let her daughter walk with their dog. I mean seriously, would you look at the outfit that woman is in," the annoyed Mrs. Miras continued, "those heels are half as tall as she is. And that dalmatian mini-skirt -- she sure makes a convincing Cruella De Vil." Little did Mrs. Miras know how right she was -- and how soon her hunch would be confirmed.

"She really is sexy though," Mrs. Wray uttered with bated breath just out of the earshot of her friend.

"What did you say," queried Rachel.

"Ah . . . nothing . . . have you seen Nicole," answered Katherine, suppressing her desire for Mrs. Parnell but also genuinely curious, after Mrs. Silver's earlier temper tantrum, whether the stunning redhead would even make an appearance.

"I haven't, said Rachel glancing down at her watch, "and you should head out there and get a seat."

As Katherine walked out to the audience Rachel shouted, "wish us luck," while patting her bulldog Max on the head."

"Good luck," Katherine said with a smile, "see you on the other side."

With that, the annual PAWS for the Cause doggy fashion parade began. As had become a ritual, and in no small part due to the U.S. Naval Academy being located in downtown Annapolis, the show kicked off with a rousing rendition of the Star Spangled Banner sung by the academy choir. As the midshipmen, mostly young strong men, serenaded the crowd with the National Anthem, Mrs. Danielle Parnell took the moment to stand a bit taller and push out her ample chest a bit farther in order to make clear to those muscular boys what they had pledged to defend. Knowing her private "salute to the troops" did not go unnoticed fed the preening prima donna's ego even further.

Once the flag had been honored, the event's hostess, Rebecca Ross, began to introduce the parade's participants. Duo after duo of man -- or woman -- and beast walked the runway to the polite applause of the crowd. Adam Hess, Rebecca Ross' husband, and his great dane Ranger, Rachel Miras and Max, the admittedly adorable Maria Parnell and Charlie and a host of other pups and their human companions helped raise awareness for a great cause while at the same time not taking themselves too seriously.

Finally, Mrs. Ross announced that the next pair would the final one of the evening. Thereafter, she explained, she and three lucky kids from Davidson Elementary School -- the "judges" -- would pick their two favorite dogs of the evening and those lucky canines, and their owners, would take one last walk down the runway before a winner was selected.

"So," announced the buxom, blonde Rebecca Ross, who in Danielle's estimation undeservedly ended up with a particularly handsome husband, "without further ado, I present to you the final pair of the night, Mrs. Nicole Silver and her standard poodle Louie."

What began as polite if not somewhat tired applause before the tent's curtain was pulled back quickly escalated into a crescendo of cheers -- particularly from the men in the audience, including the clearly enthusiastic singing Middies who had remained to watch the show. What prompted the excitement, as Louie led the way, was the mouthwatering sight of Mrs. Nicole Silver.

The stunning 5'8" redhead walked behind her well-heeled pooch in a pair of 5.5" blue silk platform heels. The towering shoes in turn supported a gorgeous pair of powerful calves and thighs covered in black fishnet hose but sadly visible only until they met her blue silk "poodle" skirt right a few inches above her knee. The fabulously retro skirt was complemented on top by a very tight, very low cut, black, short sleeved-sweater, buttoned in front, that highlighted the scarlet maned Mrs. Silver's 36D breasts. Around her waist was a black leather belt with a large gold buckle and her flowing red locks had been tied into a pony tail by a teal blue scarf that matched her skirt and shoes. The Nordic goddess beamed as she followed her dog along the makeshift runway and, as if to prove that there was a new sheriff in town, gazed disdainfully down at one Danielle Parnell who, to Nicole's delight, looked equally stupefied and infuriated.

"You go mom," yelled Jules Silver from the seat immediately behind that occupied by Danielle.

"Be quiet you little dork," snapped Danielle at the now terrified 18 year old who remembered how Mrs. Parnell had added to his mortification a year ago with her "manties" comment.

"Mom," Anna Parnell quipped, "cut it out, you're embarrassing us."

"You be quiet too, Missy," she reprimanded her daughter.

And then, noticing that her 13 year old son, who was in the throes of puberty, couldn't peel his eyes from the swaying hips of Mrs. Silver, grabbed him forcefully by the arm.

"Just what do you think you're looking at young man," she chided her now humiliated boy.

"Sorry mom," croaked Will.

But it wasn't just her son that was mesmerized. As the redheaded "glamazon" turned to make her way back to the tent from where she first emerged, Danielle realized that every man there was captivated by Mrs. Silver. Of course, any ordinary woman would have simply let it pass -- would have let someone else bask in the limelight for once. But Mrs. Danielle Parnell was no ordinary woman. In fact, in her mind, she was quite extra-ordinary and was not one to be outdone. She needed to reassert her dominance -- but how?

Before the answer to that question presented itself, Rachel Miras and Katherine Wray -- who stood together to the side of the runway -- reacted to the vision that was Nicole Silver.

"I guess Nicole wasn't kidding," exclaimed Katherine, aroused more than a bit by the gorgeous redhead, "every man here seems to have their eyes on her."

"I know. And look at Mrs. Parnell over there. She is clearly out of sorts . . . this is really getting under her skin," Rachel happily chimed in. "But do you notice anything funny about Nicole's ‘look’ tonight. I know she's always talking about the gym but I never realized before quite how small her waist had become. And while there's no denying she has a great rack . . . well, it never seemed quite this great."

"Whose jealous now," Katherine joked.

"Maybe you're right," conceded Mrs. Miras, but inside she was unconvinced that Mrs. Nicole Silver was everything she appeared to be.

As the two Davidson ladies gossiped, Rebecca Ross once again stepped up to the microphone to announce the evening's finalists.

"After serious consideration," Mrs. Ross began "and with a hearty thanks to everyone -- man, woman, boy, girl and dog alike -- who participated in tonight's show, the judges and I have come to a decision."

As one of the pint-sized judges handed her a big red envelope, Rebecca Ross excitedly announced "and the two finalists are -- Maria Parnell and her dalmatian Charlie . . ."

With the crowd clapping enthusiastically, 9 year old Maria threw up her hands in triumph and gave Charlie a big hug. For her this was nothing but fun and, win or lose, she was happy to walk her dog down the runway one more time.

As the cheers for the happy young girl subsided, Mrs. Ross continued, "and . . . Mrs. Nicole Silver and Louie the poodle."

The mere prospect of seeing Mrs. Silver strut her stuff again caused the assembled men in attendance to go crazy, drowning out what had been no small amount of cheering for Maria. And while the youngest Parnell neither noticed nor cared about the relative volume of the crowd, her mother -- Mrs. Danielle Parnell -- already piqued at what she saw as the usurpation by the shameless Silver woman of her rightful role as Queen Bee, was presented with an answer to her earlier question of what to do about it. Storming from her white wooden chair, the ordinarily unflappable Mrs. Parnell headed purposefully for the tent where Maria and Charlie were preparing to take one more stroll down the runway.

"Maria," she said dispassionately, "mommy is going to walk Charlie down the runway this time."

"But mom . . . Charlie and I won . . . they already announced it," pleaded Maria. "It's not fair."

"Sometimes life isn't fair Maria. Now stop being a baby and go sit down with your sister and brother before you embarrass yourself any further," snipped her unsympathetic mother. "Alia, take her back to the seats."

Knowing it was no use arguing, the youngest Parnell child gave Charlie a hug and headed out with Alia saying, "someday mom will get embarrassed too and then she'll know how it feels." From the mouths of babes . . . that day was now at hand.

Having witnessed the scene just described, Nicole Silver was in heaven. Not only had she stolen all male attention from that little Parnell tease but she had clearly undermined Danielle’s self-confidence as well. All that remained was to best her in the eyes of the evening's gathered men in a head-to-head walk off down the runway. If only Nicole had remembered that hubris killed the Athenians.

"Our first finalist tonight, walking with her poodle Louie, is Mrs. Nicole Silver," began Rebecca Ross, "let's hear it for Louie and Nicole."

Supremely confident, the stylish Mrs. Silver walked from behind the tent's curtain out onto the runway as the crowd -- especially its male members -- exploded into applause. With her head held high, Nicole flashed her perfect smile, purposefully catching the eye of many a man looking her way. In her towering heels she swayed her hips to an almost obscene degree drinking in the adulation that she knew followed her tight bottom as she walked.

As Louie and Nicole reached the end of the runway to begin their return, Mrs. Ross - who had not seen Danielle take her daughter's place -- announced the second finalist.

"Last but by no means least, walking with her family dalmatian Charlie, please give a big hand to little Maria Parnell."

Expecting to see the beaming face of nine year old Maria follow the big dalmatian from behind the curtain, the crowd was at first taken aback by the sight of her incredibly sexy mother. But, at least for the good men of Annapolis, any momentary disappointment was immediately replaced with delight. Strutting down the runway in her 5" patent leather, black and white spotted, peekaboo heels, her mid-thigh, flared, dalmatian patterned mini-skirt and her skin-tight, ribbed, black cotton tank top, Mrs. Danielle Parnell quickly reasserted herself as the "top dog" at the show -- and she knew it. With a little extra sway in her own fabulous walk, the imperious mother of three prowled the catwalk like a pro.

Nicole Silver's blood boiled as she realized that the diminutive sex-kitten had stolen her thunder yet again. Unfortunately for Mrs. Silver though, the lapse in concentration brought about by that realization caused her to miss a rather large space between two slats on the wooden boardwalk within which one of her dizzyingly high heels unceremoniously became trapped. To the joy of most of the women in the crowd -- who didn't know which of the runway's two travelers they liked less -- the once confident redhead quickly began to lose her composure as she tried without success to bring Louie to heel while freeing her trapped shoe.

Mindful of the humiliation he suffered last year when Louie became distracted on his watch, 18 year old Julian Silver leaped quickly to his mother's aid. Bounding past Alia and the three Parnell kids sitting in front of him, the aspiring gallant called out, "don't worry mom, I'll save you."

Unfortunately for the painfully awkward teen, his attempted leap onto the boardwalk was merely the first act in an ensuing comedy of errors. Tripping over the taught leash that separated his mom from the increasingly agitated Louie, young Jules began to fall. Instinctively and desperately grabbing for something to break his descent, and to the impending mortification of his mother, he sn*tched the waist of Nicole's poodle skirt which was torn clear off the sexy redhead's body.

"Oh my God -- no -- my skirt," screamed the once supremely confident Mrs. Silver who was suddenly revealed not in the sexy thong or lacy booty shorts that, to a man, was being imagined as cupping her tight bottom, but in a very unflattering black, open bottom, spandex girdle that ended just an inch or two above her thigh high fishnet stockings.

As the crowd burst into hysterics, Julian Silver, in an effort to regain his footing, found himself tangled again in Louie's leash which his mortified mother had released from the hand she was now futilely using to shield her Spanx covered bottom. As the startled poodle attempted to bound away, momentarily but solidly colliding with Charlie and the hysterically laughing Mrs. Parnell, the disoriented teen's feet were swept from beneath him and, tumbling headlong into his now dazed mom, the hapless Julian managed simultaneously to grab the front collar of her tight, black, button-up sweater and the blue silk scarf securing her glorious red-haired pony tail.

What happened next was the complete undoing of Mrs. Nicole Yanika Silver for as her son tumbled to the ground it was revealed that the better part of her spectacular and luxurious auburn mane, now clutched in his hand, was naught but red extensions that had left in their wake Nicole's graying natural tresses. What was even worse for the formerly preening beauty was that as the buttons on her thin sweater, and the clasp of her rather matronly black bra, were torn open by her son's flailing fingers, two sizable silicon falsies fell to the floor and a pale white, industrial strength tummy cincher was unveiled. The woman who only moments before had been a self-assured beauty queen, justifiably reveling in the attention of men and sneering at the sisterhood of Annapolis' assembled women, had in the blink of an eye been revealed as a phony.

Tragically for the now slack-jawed ex-MILF, things only got worse because, while men and women alike howled with laughter, Nicole Silver suffered one final, cataclysmic indignity. Bending down to remove the sky high heel that had begun her rapid undoing, Nicole caused the row of metal clasps on the corset responsible for her "unnaturally" tiny waist to finally give up its ghost. As her blue eyes bulged at the shock of what she knew would follow, and to the chorus of ten quick pops, the rugged foundation garment fell to the floor revealing the soft white paunch that was Mrs. Silver's actual stomach.

"I guess she's not going to the gym so much after all," Rachel Miras joked loudly to a laughing Katherine Wray and anyone else who would listen.

Other women, ecstatic at the former beauty's downfall, joyfully joined in the chorus of insults.

"Not so sexy now, are you fatty," cried one.

"Nice panties," shouted another.

Revealed to have short, mousy, graying hair, smaller-than-advertised and very saggy breasts and a muffin top for a waist, not to mention an unseen bottom that got all its shape from a girdle, the undone Mrs. Silver, now in her stocking feet which made her look even more pear shaped, ran humiliated from the runway never to be seen in Annapolis or Davidson again.

In the meantime, elated by Nicole Silver's staggering fall, and grinning like the Cheshire Cat, the ever confident Danielle Parnell, preparing for a triumphant march down the runway and back, haughtily and loudly remarked, "well Rebecca, while there's no question that Nicole is the ‘loser’ here, it appears we also have a winner and -- not surprisingly -- it's me!"

The already aroused men in the crowd were transfixed by the arrogant dominatrix on stage. That she could watch another woman literally come apart at the seams and shamelessly revel in it threw gas on the fire of their collective lust for her. What's more, the imperious Mrs. Parnell sensed their common yearning and was keen to tease the men to their breaking point.

To that end, and in an effort to further assert her dominion over their hapless wives and girlfriends, the victorious Danielle Parnell dismissively remarked to the nearby Rachel and Katherine, "what’s the matter ladies? Did you think your fat friend's ridiculously inappropriate display could end any other way? Or you Miras, did you suppose you and your bulldog twin there would be standing here as the winners tonight . . . did you? How about you Katherine, will you be able to contain yourself later as you run the show of Silver's stripping over and over again in your head? I don't think so."

Disdainfully sneering at the women in the crowd, while knowing that her dominance of them made their male mates want her all the more, Mrs. Parnell and Charlie began their victory lap down the runway only to find their way impeded by the seated, catatonic form of the still shocked and sniveling Julian Silver. In a voice she thought only the boy could hear, Danielle taunted, "get out of my way you little loser. And thank your mom for confirming my suspicion that the two of you share your panties."

Stepping around the defeated Julian to continue what in her mind would be the last, best stroll of the evening, the arrogant Mrs. Parnell failed to notice the very flaw in the boardwalk that had ensnared Nicole Silver. What was also not yet apparent to the imperious alpha-lawyer was that in her earlier brief tangle with the escaping Louie, the fleeing poodle's lobster claw leash hook had briefly caught on and pulled a bit at the zipper at the back of Mrs. Parnell's dog-print mini skirt -- a zipper that was now just a few small teeth from opening completely.

In what quickly became a case study in the famous Santayana quote -- "those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it" -- one of Danielle's 5" peep toe heels became trapped between two of the boardwalk's slats. But unlike Louie the poodle, who upon being jerked to a stop strained at the leash in an effort to continue moving forward, Charlie -- the 100 pound Parnell family dalmatian -- turned quickly around and, rearing up on his large spotted hind paws, planted his two front feet on Danielle's firm waist in an effort to give his stranded mistress a sloppy wet kiss.

It was only upon pushing the dog floor-ward with a stern, "down, Charlie, down . . ." that the magnificent Mrs. Parnell -- as well as everyone else in attendance -- discovered the fate of her mini-skirt's zipper. As the harshly disciplined Charlie's paws dropped from his owner's midsection to the ground, they brought with them Danielle's flouncy, flared, dalmatian spotted mini-skirt. As both the uniformed and civilian men in attendance "snapped to attention" at the sight of Mrs. Parnell's spectacularly fit ass covered only by her dalmatian themed micro-thong, the women in the crowd, particularly Rachel Miras and Katherine Wray doubled over with a mix of laughter and applause.

Danielle meanwhile was in shock as she screamed, "Will . . . don't look at mommy," while trying simultaneously to free her trapped shoe and grab her fallen skirt. But Charlie was having none of it and, startled by the mayhem around him as well as the unfamiliar "dalmatian" at his mistress' feet, dug into the latter with his powerful jaws and, knocking Danielle backward, ran at full tilt with her skirt down the runway.

"Charlie, come back," Maria Parnell could be heard shouting as she, Anna and Alia took off after their fleeing pet.

Unable to break her fall as a result of Charlie's attempted escape, the completely flustered Danielle Parnell careened ass first into the lap of young Julian Silver who was still sitting on the floor in the middle of the runway. Reacting instinctively to the woman about to land on him, Julian reached his hands out towards Mrs. Parnell's to help break her fall. Startled by the skinny fingers now grasping her tan, toned shoulders, and at last having freed her shoe from the wooden jaws that held it, Danielle attempted to jump back to her feet while chiding Julian to "get your hands off me you little pervert."

In what would be his third unintended wardrobe malfunction "assist" of the evening, the colossally awkward Julian Silver, thinking he could use the shoulder straps of Mrs. Parnell's tank top to assist her to her feet, held fast to those straps as she bounded up unassisted the result of which was to tear the black ribbed garment entirely from her sexy tanned back. As the startled sexpot regained her footing amidst the hollers, whistles, catcalls, applause and, especially from the women, howling laughter -- the full weight of her predicament hit her like a ton of bricks. How did this happen? Where are my clothes? Oh my God, Will can see me in my panties! And all these people -- these nobodies -- they can see my sexy, practically naked, body. No -- this can't be happening -- they're pointing and laughing.

And they most certainly were!

"I love the thong Cruella," taunted Rebecca Ross as she read the glittering message atop Danielle's tiny thong.

"Look at that ass," howled Katherine Wray -- more aroused on this night than she had been in her entire life.

The still stunned, mortified mother of three, with her mouth hanging open and her eyes the size of saucers, stared vacantly at the laughing crowd. But then, upon spying the "dorky" Julian Silver at her feet holding her torn shirt in his bony hands, Mrs. Parnell reared back with an open palm shouting, "you . . . little . . . spaz . . . this is all your fault . . ." But as she swung her arm at the cowering Julian's face -- Danielle's ensuing slap was suddenly and powerfully stopped by the vice-like grip that the short but sturdy Rachel Miras placed on her wrist.

"You leave that boy alone you little tease," raged the determined Mrs. Miras. "It's time that someone taught you a lesson. The only one who's going to get a spanking tonight is you!"

As the entire crowd went wild, its women cheering Rachel on as if she was a conquering heroine, the increasingly humiliated queen bee -- Danielle Marie Parnell -- tried one last time to regain control. Somewhat frantically, but with as much authority as her current situation would permit, Mrs. Parnell commanded, "let go of me this instant you fat cow. Just who do you think you are!?!"

"I'm the girl whose finally going to give you what you deserve you show-off," responded Rachel Miras without missing a beat and, as Katherine Wray handed her a white wooden folding chair from beside the runway, the stocky Mrs. Miras, after unclasping the shocked prima donna's dog-print bra from her spectacularly pert tits, pulled a startled Danielle Parnell across her lap and began paddling the sexy mom's posterior.

"That's for taking my parking spot this morning," cried out the now dominant Mrs. Miras as she spanked Danielle's taught bottom.

"And that's for making fun of Katherine," continued Rachel, bringing the pain to Mrs. Parnell as the appreciative and nearly orgasmic Katherine Wray shouted in her dulcet Southern tones, "you go girl -- give it to her good!"

"And that's for telling me I look like my dog. In fact, looking at your sl*tty little outfit tonight it seems you're the one who looks like a dog. Why don't you bark for me doggy," taunted Rachel Miras as she continued to redden the uber-MILF's behind.

"Please . . . no . . . not that," whispered Danielle feebly, thinking back to how she had teased her own sexy reflection with that very command only a few short hours earlier.

"I said BARK . . . LIKE . . . A . . . DOG," bellowed Rachel Miras punctuating each word of her command with an ever more forceful slap.

What happened next was, for many women in attendance that night, a high water mark of vindication for the abuses that Mrs. Danielle Parnell had heaped upon them over the years.

"Woof," chirped the humiliated Danielle softly from the lap of Rachel Miras as the broken alpha lawyer's eyes locked with those of her son Will right before the boy passed out.

Buoyed by her success thus far, the stout Mrs. Miras continued "bad dog -- I can't hear you!!"

"I'm sorry Mistress," croaked Danielle sheepishly, "WOOF, WOOF, WOOF, WOOF." And then, as if freed by her humiliation Danielle loudly confessed, "I am a bad dog, a very, very bad dog . . . a very bad girl dog . . ."

"And what do we call a girl dog, Danni? Tell me . . . what are you," teased Rachel Miras while softly "petting" Danielle on her head.

Completely broken at this point and having slid from Rachel's lap onto the runway where, on all fours wearing only her 5" black and white spotted heels and her now soaking wet dog-print Cruella thong, Mrs. Danielle Parnell conceded what everyone already knew.

"I'm a b*tch."

And as money flew at the stage in support of PAWS for the Cause, Rebecca Ross d****d the winner's sash over the neck of the astonished, broken, former tease. It read simply, "Best in Show."

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.

PAWS for the Cause 2.0
 

First -- thanks again to everyone for your kind and constructive comments on these stories. It's what keeps me writing. Below, based on my original intent as well as the thoughtful ideas of amf85 and hocman, is a (very) slightly revised version of PAWS for the Cause wherein Mrs. Silver gets most certainly stripped but only to reveal a magnificent body. Was hoping to have another story up this weekend but it's looking less and less likely -- sorry about that. Will try to have one done in early December (the real Mrs. Parnell has been making it easy lately to come up with new ideas). In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the following.

* * *

Had Norman Rockwell set out to paint a particular American town, it would have been Davidson, Maryland. Nestled along the South River, the leafy village evoked a simpler time. Davidson's homes, a mix of large but unimposing white clapboard and brick manses, often set back from its quiet tree lined streets by expansive well-manicured lawns, evidenced a quiet, kind and confident prosperity. Although its residents found themselves almost equidistant between Baltimore and Washington, D.C. -- each a mere 20 or so miles away and where many of Davidson's townsfolk worked -- the bucolic bedroom community was a mere five minute drive from Maryland's harbor front capital of Annapolis, and it was there that many of the good people of Davidson would while away their spring and summer hours. In fact, the spectacular environs of downtown Annapolis, home to the United States Naval Academy and -- long ago for a very short time -- the capital of the United States, hosted many a charitable event that relied on its coffers being filled by Davidson's affluent residents.

One of the most renowned of these, which drew participants and spectators alike from all around the Annapolis area, was Davidson's annual "PAWS for the Cause" held each year in early June. The daylong event, which raised money for local animal welfare, consisted of a host of activities including a pet washing station, doggy obstacle course, adoption fair, silent auction and -- at day's end -- a fashion parade where dog owners of all stripes and their pets would walk the "runway" together for the entertainment of the assembled throng. Like Davidson itself, and as Rockwell would have painted it, PAWS for the Cause was all-American fun -- neither showy nor brash.

The same could not be said for one of Davidson's most prominent, and arguably most attractive, residents -- Mrs. Danielle Parnell. Easing her very showy white 2014 Range Rover Sport into an available spot in downtown Annapolis -- brashly pulling in despite another driver -- Rachel Miras -- waiting patiently for the space to open -- the fetching alpha-mom prepared to drop off her three kids, their dalmatian Charlie and the Parnell family nanny, Alia, for the morning kick-off of this year's PAWS for the Cause. Stepping out into the June air, the spectacularly fit 43 year old stunner caught the attention of every man around. As the sun glinted off the front of her mirrored aviator shades, those lucky enough to spy her were treated to the sight of her well-tanned and toned legs standing atop a pair of 4.5", yellow, peep-toe, wedge heels; her flawless ass hugged by a pair of white jean shorts that came down barely to mid-thigh -- appropriate but spectacular. A long yellow, black and white flowered scarf ran beneath the belt loops of her shorts and, up top, the fashionable Mrs. Parnell wore a very form fitting black cotton tank that emphasized nicely the swell of her ample 34C breasts as well as her tight midsection and fit arms. Danielle's shoulder length brown hair, that framed her beautiful, emerald-eyed face, blew gently in the warm summer breeze.

"Stay out of trouble you three -- and keep any eye on Charlie," the gorgeous mom directed her offspring, "and nothing inappropriate -- do you hear me."

"Yes mom," the three Parnell kids -- Will, 13, Anna 11 and Maria 9 -- echoed in chorus, "nothing inappropriate."

"Mind those attitudes," replied their mother not even half kidding, "or you'll find yourselves back home in no time." And then, to Alia, Danielle continued, "keep an eye on them will you, I'll be back later for the fashion parade -- this town won't know what hit them when they see what I've got planned."

"Of course, Mrs. Parnell," said Alia sweetly while thinking to herself that her boss certainly had no lack of ego.

As the ceaselessly sexy lawyer sashayed to the local Starbucks to grab her trademark cappuccino for the short ride home, the fantastic motion of her pert bottom became the instant focus of soccer dads, weekend warriors and mailmen alike -- and Danielle Parnell loved it. To her, the thrill of teasing men was matched by very few things. Among them was the joy she felt when, upon "catching" an unsuspecting man spying her beauty, she publicly and loudly took him to task with a, "what would your wife think of the way you're looking at me Mr. Smith," or a "how dare you, Mr. Jones." The delight the haughty uber-MILF got from actually calling out men, however, was dwarfed by the elation she derived from the impact their emasculation had on the chastened men's wives and girlfriends because, at the top of Danielle Parnell's list of favorite things, was the love she had for herself. In her mind, other women existed merely to confirm her own superiority -- in her presence the universe of dowdy soccer moms, overweight Zumba class attendees and stay-at-home haus fraus simply ceased to exist -- and they knew it -- losers.

Smiling as she thought about the lustful looks directed at her, Danielle pulled open the door to the world's most popular coffee establishment and, walking in, spied a collection of the very women she despised. Sitting at a small table sipping on their caffeine laden libations were Katherine Wray, Rachel Miras and Nicole Silver. As she raised her expensive sunglasses from the slope of her perfect nose to the top of her windblown hair, Mrs. Parnell flashed her best fake smile at her three "lesser" neighbors.

"Why good morning Danielle," enthused the waifish Katherine Wray, "are you excited for the big day?"

The 5' 8" strawberry-blonde Mrs. Wray, an avid runner and Nashville native, whose own legs were nothing to sneeze at, offended Danielle least of the three women. In fact, the ever-confident Mrs. Parnell suspected the athletic Mrs. Wray's marriage was a mere beard and that the closeted bi-sexual Katherine harbored a secret crush on her.

"Not as excited as you are to see me I'm sure," Danielle offered condescendingly. As the equally titillated and humiliated Mrs. Wray blushed, the self-confident Mrs. Parnell silently added to herself with a smile, "and you can look all you want dear, but I don't swing that way and if I did you'd never make the cut."

With the prospect of lording over these "nobodies" coursing through her icy veins, the preening diva turned to Rachel Miras, "will you be accompanying that bull dog of yours again in the fashion show Rachel? It's just adorable how much you favor one other -- like mother and son."

The short, squat Mrs. Miras who was working harder than ever to lose some weight, seethed inwardly at the sharp barb but -- intimidated to her core by Danielle -- outwardly simply smiled stupidly. Mrs. Parnell on the other hand reveled in the cowed woman's discomfort delighting in the fact that within 10 minutes not only had she taken Rachel's parking spot but left her looking the fool.

Finally, as the handsome young male barista handed the haughty lawyer her cappuccino -- "on the house" -- Mrs. Parnell set her sights on the red-headed Nicole Silver who, like Danielle, was a lawyer in Washington, D.C.

"Will your son and that troublesome mutt of yours be performing for us again this year Nicole," Danielle provoked Mrs. Silver, referring to an unfortunate incident the year before when Louie -- the Silver family's 100 pound standard poodle -- caught wind of a squirrel as Nicole's young son Julian was walking him down the doggy fashion show runway. The poor boy, who though eighteen years old at the time still looked all of about twelve, was dragged off his feet, through a puddle of mud and out of his khaki shorts before he finally gave up the ghost and let go of the leash. Danielle of course, who had a front row seat to the unfortunate episode, was delighted by the "little nerd's" undoing and in a voice she thought to be sotto voce was overheard by those around her to comment to no one in particular "nice 'manties' he's wearing -- do you think he shares those with his mom?"

Both enraged and mortified by the mention of poor Jules' former misfortune, and with her voice controlled but strained, the 5'8", big-boned but by no means fat, Norwegian beauty responded, "actually Danielle, I'll be escorting Louie in tonight's charity fashion parade."

"What a relief," Danielle falsely empathized, "with someone your size on the leash any further secrets of your family's underpants -- thank God -- will likely remain unknown."

Nicole was rendered speechless and Danielle loved it. Somehow putting the Silver woman in her place provided Mrs. Parnell her greatest rush. Who does that Silver think she is anyway, she laughed to herself. The half-wit probably got her law degree through the mail . . . and the way she's always flaunting that chest of hers -- classless. A woman like that simply needs to be told who's boss -- smiled the glamorous alpha mom -- and now she knows -- it's me.

Feeling on top of the world, the sexy Mrs. Danielle Parnell pushed open the coffee house door and, as every male neck snapped to watch, strutted to her car with a broad smile on her beautiful face and a little extra sway in her shapely hips.

"Can you believe that woman," raged Nicole Silver at her coffee mates. "She strolls in here with her high heels and tight little shorts and proceeds to make fools of us while we do nothing about it. Why what I wouldn't give to take that little tease down a peg or two."

"You," countered the equally angry Rachel Miras, "she stole my parking spot . . . and told me I look like my dog. I don't . . . do I?"

"Of course you don't you ninny," scolded the still apoplectic Mrs. Silver. "Don't you see, that's what she wants . . . to undermine our confidence. She casually puts us down . . . you look like your dog . . . I'm too fat and my poor son is a panty-waisted nerd . . . Katherine over there is a lesbian . . . and then while we sit here -- stunned and humiliated -- she smiles, flips her hair and struts away."

"She's the one who needs to have that giant ego of hers undermined -- to be humiliated," continued Nicole.

Trying to break the tension, and lustfully imagining Mrs. Parnell's undoing, the aroused Mrs. Wray offered with a big smile, "boy would I like to see that . . . mmmm."

"Me too," laughed Mrs. Miras also picturing in her head a scenario where the ordinarily unflappable Mrs. Parnell was the one on the receiving end for once, "but let's just forget about it and enjoy the day."

"Forget about it," Nicole Silver practically shouted, "what do you mean forget about it? We have to do something . . ."

"Let it go Nicole," advised Katherine Wray in her soft Southern accent, "it's really nothing."

"Fine, if the two of you want to be losers -- have at it" blustered Nicole, "I'm taking a stand. Two can play at her game you know."

And then, getting up hastily to abandon her two friends, and without taking a moment to measure her words, Mrs. Nicole Silver arrogantly proclaimed, "once the men of this town catch a glimpse of me on the runway tonight they won't have a second thought for Little Miss Perfect."

As the statuesque redhead stormed off, the Starbucks door slamming behind her, Rachel Miras and Katherine Wray burst into laughter.

"She's almost as bad as the other one," Rachel joked.

"No kidding," added Katherine Wray smiling, "the two of them deserve each other."

Still giddy from the serving of humble pie she had heaped upon her pathetic neighbors earlier in the day, and having since then worked-out at her very exclusive gym to hone her spectacular body and stopped by an equally upscale spa for a massage, manicure, pedicure and haircut, the sultry Mrs. Parnell eased her high-end SUV down the long driveway to the Parnell family home to begin getting ready for the PAWS for the Cause fashion parade.

Although Danielle had promised her youngest daughter, the 9 year old Maria, that she could walk the runway tonight with the family dalmatian Charlie -- Mrs. Parnell still planned on looking her best.

"After all," she laughed to herself, "I owe the men of Davidson something hot to fantasize about when they make love to their hum drum wives."

"Of course," she smiled inwardly, looking at her nude reflection upon stepping from the tub in her exclusive marble bathroom, "that fantasy is the closest any of those losers will ever get to actually seeing this body."

Once the stunning solicitor had toweled off, slipped on her short silk robe and expertly made up her beautiful face -- taking care to apply a fire engine red gloss to her luscious lips -- she began to dress for the event. Although she and her three children would all be wearing some version of white outfits with black spots to show family unity for their over-sized dalmatian's big night -- Danielle had planned something special to wear beneath her otherwise innocent frock. Opening the small brown box on her dressing table -- that had arrived from a novelty lingerie shop only the day before -- Mrs. Danielle Parnell pulled out the tiniest of thongs. The translucent white lace triangle of fabric in front -- bedecked with black dalmatian spots -- was joined to the tiniest of similarly styled lace triangles behind by a bright red spaghetti thin waistband. But the coup de grace of the sexy panty was the word embroidered in silver glitter across its tiny front panel -- Cruella. As the suburban sexpot pulled the micro garment on over her perfect hips she chuckled to herself, "one look at this body and old Walt would melt right out of cryonic suspension."

After fastening the matching dalmatian push-up bra over her ample 34C breasts, Mrs. Parnell stepped into a pair of patent leather 5" peep-toe pumps each with a high black heel in support of a white shoe with black spots. Looking into the mirror the uber-MILF put her hands on her hips, turned to the side and, bending at the knees, pushed her fabulous ass out behind her. Lustfully admiring her fantastic reflection, and in her sexiest voice, the hot little lawyer pouted, "bark like a dog baby!!! Who's a bad girl? Who's a bad girl!! I am -- that's who."

Blowing a kiss to herself as she stood up, the devilish diva pulled on a white mini-skirt, bedecked with black dalmatian spots, that flared out from her incredibly toned waist and came down to just below mid-thigh. On top, the gorgeous attorney wore a tight black cotton ribbed tank top that showed off her incredibly fit arms as well as her firm, pert breasts. The black and white pearl choker she wore around her supple neck complemented the bracelets she wore on each wrist. To finish the look, Mrs. Parnell tied back her luxurious brown mane with a dalmatian spotted white silk scarf. Grabbing her oversize white leather Versace tote as she headed for the door, Danielle caught her reflection in the large hallway mirror in the Parnell foyer. Satisfied as always with her beauty and sex appeal, and reveling in the impact she'd soon have on the feckless men of Davidson -- and their loser wives -- the stunning alpha mom cooed lustfully at her reflection, "you're the hottest b*tch in town, baby."

And with that, Mrs. Parnell strutted out her front door for the short drive into Annapolis.

While her boss was primping at home, Alia, the Parnell family nanny, was busy making sure Will, Anna and Maria got changed into their dalmatian themed outfits and that Charlie got himself a good cleaning at the pet washing station. The 22 year old Ph.D. candidate, who had been watching the Parnell children now for almost four years, genuinely loved her three charges. The future professor was also quite fond of her high-powered boss -- Mrs. Danielle Parnell, Esquire -- who she knew cared for her kids if in her own unique way.

That said, on days like these, where their forceful mom pushed her offspring to dress in matching outfits, Alia certainly sympathized with their resistance and, having agreeably donned her own dalmatian themed ensemble to watch Charlie and Maria walk in the upcoming fashion parade, shared their embarrassment. All in all though, it was a small price to pay for an otherwise great job and, as Will, Anna and Maria emerged from the public restrooms nearest the PAWS for the Cause runway, the three of them and Alia, with Charlie in tow, waived at the family SUV pulling up nearby.

As the glamorous Mrs. Parnell stepped from the Range Rover's driver side door to greet her waiting family, every man within view craned his neck to take notice. Outfitted in her 5" polka dotted heels, flared white mini skirt with black spots that mimicked her nearby dalmatian and tight black tank-top, the suburban goddess was a fantasy-come-alive -- and she knew it. Turning around to see her kids and Alia, the gorgeous Danielle coolly but dismissively eyed her admirers deeming them completely unworthy of the object of their desire -- namely, herself -- but at the same time relishing the attention she knew they couldn't resist giving her -- the losers. With that, the now united Parnell clan, along with Charlie and Alia, headed for their seats.

In order to host the PAWS for the Cause fashion parade, the boardwalk that ran in from the foot of Annapolis harbor to the nearby, tree-lined parking lot had been transformed into a makeshift runway. A large white tent, complete with a curtain from where the evening's "models" would make their entrance covered the intersection between the boardwalk and the brick lined sidewalk that ran along the water's edge. On either side of the runway, perched upon the large green grass field that otherwise separated the parking lot from the water, were hundreds of white wooden folding chairs from where the families, friends, casual observers and donors of the annual pet parade would take in the evening's show.

As she led her small brood to their reserved seats along the boardwalk's edge, Mrs. Danielle Parnell, with a little extra sway in her hips, drank in the stares of the good men of Annapolis and Davidson, each of whom -- to her delight if not her surprise -- couldn't fail to notice the diminutive beauty's raw sex appeal. What's more, Danielle reveled in the consternation that the men's wives and girlfriends, on the one hand, directed at said men for ignoring them and on the other, focused on Danielle -- and her regal, incomparable beauty -- for stealing their men's attention.

"Let's face it ladies," she thought to herself in complete satisfaction, "they all want me . . . and you all want to be me."

Once the contented diva and her kids reached their seats, Danielle dispatched Alia to accompany Maria and what seemed a particularly excitable Charlie backstage for the show.

Meanwhile, from behind the curtained tent, Rachel Miras and Katherine Wray spotted the narcissistic Mrs. Parnell taking her seat for the show.

"Well it looks like ‘Miss Look at Me' has finally arrived," quipped Rachel, still smarting from being compared to her bulldog Max.

"It's hard to believe she’s going to let her daughter walk with their dog. I mean seriously, would you look at the outfit that woman is in," the annoyed Mrs. Miras continued, "those heels are half as tall as she is. And that dalmatian mini-skirt -- she sure makes a convincing Cruella De Vil." Little did Mrs. Miras know how right she was -- and how soon her hunch would be confirmed.

"She really is sexy though," Mrs. Wray uttered with bated breath just out of the earshot of her friend.

"What did you say," queried Rachel.

"Ah . . . nothing . . . have you seen Nicole," answered Katherine, suppressing her desire for Mrs. Parnell but also genuinely curious, after Mrs. Silver's earlier temper tantrum, whether the stunning redhead would even make an appearance.

"I haven't, said Rachel glancing down at her watch, "and you should head out there and get a seat."

As Katherine walked out to the audience Rachel shouted, "wish us luck," while patting her bulldog Max on the head."

"Good luck," Katherine said with a smile, "see you on the other side."

With that, the annual PAWS for the Cause doggy fashion parade began. As had become a ritual, and in no small part due to the U.S. Naval Academy being located in downtown Annapolis, the show kicked off with a rousing rendition of the Star Spangled Banner sung by the academy choir. As the midshipmen, mostly young strong men, serenaded the crowd with the National Anthem, Mrs. Danielle Parnell took the moment to stand a bit taller and push out her ample chest a bit farther in order to make clear to those muscular boys what they had pledged to defend. Knowing her private "salute to the troops" did not go unnoticed fed the preening prima donna's ego even further.

Once the flag had been honored, the event's hostess, Rebecca Ross, began to introduce the parade's participants. Duo after duo of man -- or woman -- and beast walked the runway to the polite applause of the crowd. Adam Hess, Rebecca Ross' husband, and his great dane Ranger, Rachel Miras and Max, the admittedly adorable Maria Parnell and Charlie and a host of other pups and their human companions helped raise awareness for a great cause while at the same time not taking themselves too seriously.

Finally, Mrs. Ross announced that the next pair would the final one of the evening. Thereafter, she explained, she and three lucky kids from Davidson Elementary School -- the "judges" -- would pick their two favorite dogs of the evening and those lucky canines, and their owners, would take one last walk down the runway before a winner was selected.

"So," announced the buxom, blonde Rebecca Ross, who in Danielle's estimation undeservedly ended up with a particularly handsome husband, "without further ado, I present to you the final pair of the night, Mrs. Nicole Silver and her standard poodle Louie."

What began as polite if not somewhat tired applause before the tent's curtain was pulled back quickly escalated into a crescendo of cheers -- particularly from the men in the audience, including the clearly enthusiastic singing Middies who had remained to watch the show. What prompted the excitement, as Louie led the way, was the mouthwatering sight of Mrs. Nicole Silver.

The stunning 5'8" redhead walked behind her well-heeled pooch in a pair of 5.5" blue silk platform heels. The towering shoes in turn supported a gorgeous pair of powerful calves and thighs covered in black fishnet hose but sadly visible only until they met her blue silk "poodle" skirt right a few inches above her knee. The fabulously retro skirt was complemented on top by a very tight, very low cut, black, short sleeved-sweater, buttoned in front, that highlighted the scarlet maned Mrs. Silver's 36D breasts. Around her waist was a black leather belt with a large gold buckle and her flowing red locks had been tied into a pony tail by a teal blue scarf that matched her skirt and shoes. The Nordic goddess beamed as she followed her dog along the makeshift runway and, as if to prove that there was a new sheriff in town, gazed disdainfully down at one Danielle Parnell who, to Nicole's delight, looked equally stupefied and infuriated.

"You go mom," yelled Jules Silver from the seat immediately behind that occupied by Danielle.

"Be quiet you little dork," snapped Danielle at the now terrified 18 year old who remembered how Mrs. Parnell had added to his mortification a year ago with her "manties" comment.

"Mom," Anna Parnell quipped, "cut it out, you're embarrassing us."

"You be quiet too, Missy," she reprimanded her daughter.

And then, noticing that her 13 year old son, who was in the throes of puberty, couldn't peel his eyes from the swaying hips of Mrs. Silver, grabbed him forcefully by the arm.

"Just what do you think you're looking at young man," she chided her now humiliated boy.

"Sorry mom," croaked Will.

But it wasn't just her son that was mesmerized. As the redheaded "glamazon" turned to make her way back to the tent from where she first emerged, Danielle realized that every man there was captivated by Mrs. Silver. Of course, any ordinary woman would have simply let it pass -- would have let someone else bask in the limelight for once. But Mrs. Danielle Parnell was no ordinary woman. In fact, in her mind, she was quite extra-ordinary and was not one to be outdone. She needed to reassert her dominance -- but how?

Before the answer to that question presented itself, Rachel Miras and Katherine Wray -- who stood together to the side of the runway -- reacted to the vision that was Nicole Silver.

"I guess Nicole wasn't kidding," exclaimed Katherine, aroused more than a bit by the gorgeous redhead, "every man here seems to have their eyes on her."

"I know. And look at Mrs. Parnell over there. She is clearly out of sorts . . . this is really getting under her skin," Rachel happily chimed in. "But do you notice anything funny about Nicole's ‘look’ tonight. I know she's always talking about the gym but I never realized before quite how small her waist had become. And while there's no denying she has a great rack . . . well, it never seemed quite this great."

"Whose jealous now," Katherine joked.

"Maybe you're right," conceded Mrs. Miras, but inside she was unconvinced that Mrs. Nicole Silver was everything she appeared to be.

As the two Davidson ladies gossiped, Rebecca Ross once again stepped up to the microphone to announce the evening's finalists.

"After serious consideration," Mrs. Ross began "and with a hearty thanks to everyone -- man, woman, boy, girl and dog alike -- who participated in tonight's show, the judges and I have come to a decision."

As one of the pint-sized judges handed her a big red envelope, Rebecca Ross excitedly announced "and the two finalists are -- Maria Parnell and her dalmatian Charlie . . ."

With the crowd clapping enthusiastically, 9 year old Maria threw up her hands in triumph and gave Charlie a big hug. For her this was nothing but fun and, win or lose, she was happy to walk her dog down the runway one more time.

As the cheers for the happy young girl subsided, Mrs. Ross continued, "and . . . Mrs. Nicole Silver and Louie the poodle."

The mere prospect of seeing Mrs. Silver strut her stuff again caused the assembled men in attendance to go crazy, drowning out what had been no small amount of cheering for Maria. And while the youngest Parnell neither noticed nor cared about the relative volume of the crowd, her mother -- Mrs. Danielle Parnell -- already piqued at what she saw as the usurpation by the shameless Silver woman of her rightful role as Queen Bee, was presented with an answer to her earlier question of what to do about it. Storming from her white wooden chair, the ordinarily unflappable Mrs. Parnell headed purposefully for the tent where Maria and Charlie were preparing to take one more stroll down the runway.

"Maria," she said dispassionately, "mommy is going to walk Charlie down the runway this time."

"But mom . . . Charlie and I won . . . they already announced it," pleaded Maria. "It's not fair."

"Sometimes life isn't fair Maria. Now stop being a baby and go sit down with your sister and brother before you embarrass yourself any further," snipped her unsympathetic mother. "Alia, take her back to the seats."

Knowing it was no use arguing, the youngest Parnell child gave Charlie a hug and headed out with Alia saying, "someday mom will get embarrassed too and then she'll know how it feels." From the mouths of babes . . . that day was now at hand.

Having witnessed the scene just described, Nicole Silver was in heaven. Not only had she stolen all male attention from that little Parnell tease but she had clearly undermined Danielle’s self-confidence as well. All that remained was to best her in the eyes of the evening's gathered men in a head-to-head walk off down the runway. If only Nicole had remembered that hubris killed the Athenians.

"Our first finalist tonight, walking with her poodle Louie, is Mrs. Nicole Silver," began Rebecca Ross, "let's hear it for Louie and Nicole."

Supremely confident, the stylish Mrs. Silver walked from behind the tent's curtain out onto the runway as the crowd -- especially its male members -- exploded into applause. With her head held high, Nicole flashed her perfect smile, purposefully catching the eye of many a man looking her way. In her towering heels she swayed her hips to an almost obscene degree drinking in the adulation that she knew followed her tight bottom as she walked.

As Louie and Nicole reached the end of the runway to begin their return, Mrs. Ross - who had not seen Danielle take her daughter's place -- announced the second finalist.

"Last but by no means least, walking with her family dalmatian Charlie, please give a big hand to little Maria Parnell."

Expecting to see the beaming face of nine year old Maria follow the big dalmatian from behind the curtain, the crowd was at first taken aback by the sight of her incredibly sexy mother. But, at least for the good men of Annapolis, any momentary disappointment was immediately replaced with delight. Strutting down the runway in her 5" patent leather, black and white spotted, peekaboo heels, her mid-thigh, flared, dalmatian patterned mini-skirt and her skin-tight, ribbed, black cotton tank top, Mrs. Danielle Parnell quickly reasserted herself as the "top dog" at the show -- and she knew it. With a little extra sway in her own fabulous walk, the imperious mother of three prowled the catwalk like a pro.

Nicole Silver's blood boiled as she realized that the diminutive sex-kitten had stolen her thunder yet again. Unfortunately for Mrs. Silver though, the lapse in concentration brought about by that realization caused her to miss a rather large space between two slats on the wooden boardwalk within which one of her dizzyingly high heels unceremoniously became trapped. To the joy of most of the women in the crowd -- who didn't know which of the runway's two travelers they liked less -- the once confident redhead quickly began to lose her composure as she tried without success to bring Louie to heel while freeing her trapped shoe.

Mindful of the humiliation he suffered last year when Louie became distracted on his watch, 18 year old Julian Silver leaped quickly to his mother's aid. Bounding past Alia and the three Parnell kids sitting in front of him, the aspiring gallant called out, "don't worry mom, I'll save you."

Unfortunately for the painfully awkward teen, his attempted leap onto the boardwalk was merely the first act in an ensuing comedy of errors. Tripping over the taught leash that separated his mom from the increasingly agitated Louie, young Jules began to fall. Instinctively and desperately grabbing for something to break his descent, and to the impending mortification of his mother, he sn*tched the waist of Nicole's poodle skirt which was torn clear off the sexy redhead's body.

"Oh my God . . . my skirt . . . and my panties," screamed the once supremely confident Mrs. Silver who was suddenly revealed from the waist down in a lacy electric blue thong -- the color of which matched her shoes and scarf – her very high heels and a pair of black fishnet thigh high stockings. What’s more, emblazoned in black block letters across the front of her translucent fabric panties were the words “Top Dog.”

As the crowd burst into hysterics – its men instantly aroused by the view of the porcelain goddess’ muscular legs and ass and its women jubilant at her undoing -- Julian Silver, in an effort to regain his footing, found himself tangled again in Louie's leash which his mortified mother had released from the hand she was now futilely using to shield her almost completely uncovered bottom. As the startled poodle attempted to bound away, momentarily but solidly colliding with Charlie and the hysterically laughing Mrs. Parnell, the disoriented teen's feet were swept from beneath him and, tumbling headlong into his now dazed mom, the hapless Julian managed simultaneously to grab with both hands the front collar of her tight, black, button-up sweater.

What happened next was the complete undoing of Mrs. Nicole Yanika Silver for as her son tumbled to the ground the buttons on her thin sweater, and the clasp of her lacy electric blue and black bra, were torn open by his flailing fingers, giving at first only a glimpse of the treasures beneath. Unfortunately for Nicole, and despite Julian’s futile hope that holding fast to his mother’s frock would help the boy break his inevitable fall, the still tumbling teen managed to strip both sweater and bra clean off Mrs. Silver’s broad sexy shoulders.

The woman who only moments before had been a self-assured beauty queen, justifiably reveling in the attention of men and sneering at the sisterhood of Annapolis' assembled women, now stood before the crowd with a dazed and daffy look on her once smug face wearing only her 5.5” bright teal heels, a similarly hued “Top Dog” thong, and a silk scarf tied into her long red hair. The fabulous pink nipples atop her huge but pert breasts stood completely at attention as did the manhood of every guy who saw them. Mrs. Silver was frozen.

Tragically for the now slack-jawed ex-MILF, things only got worse because, while men and women alike howled with laughter, awakening her from her trance, Nicole Silver suffered one final, cataclysmic indignity. Bending down to remove the sky high heel that had begun her rapid undoing, Nicole failed to realize how close she was to the runway’s edge and – upon finally freeing the stuck shoe – she inadvertently stepped not onto to solid ground but rather off the make-shift catwalk into thin air.

On the plus side, had her fall not been arrested she could genuinely have been injured. That said, what stopped the practically naked Nicole from plummeting quickly to the lawn below was Julian’s last attempt to save her honor – the grasp of his hand on the back of her itsy bitsy thong. As the fragile fabric stretched and her gorgeous blue eyes bulged at the shock of what she knew would follow, Julian effectively lowered – via a painful snuggy – his undone mother from the runway to the ground below. To the delight of everyone but Mrs. Silver, just as Nicole reached the ground her mangled underwear reached their breaking point and Julian’s tight hold unceremoniously separated the tiny garment from her magnificent bottom leaving her nude from shoes to scarf.

"Not so smug any more is she," Rachel Miras joked loudly to a laughing Katherine Wray and anyone else who would listen.

Other women, ecstatic at the former beauty's downfall, joyfully joined in the chorus of insults.

"Who do you think is the bottom dog," cried one.

"I guess the curtains do match the d****s," shouted another pointing at the small shaved heart shape of pubic hair above the beautiful redhead’s sex.

“Like mother, like son,” guffawed the delighted Mrs. Wray as her now not-so-arrogant friend ran buck naked, save for a sexy pair of high heels, for the parking lot. Katherine took extra delight knowing that the scene she had just witnessed would fuel her fantasies for months to come.

In the meantime, elated by Nicole Silver's staggering fall, and grinning like the Cheshire Cat, the ever confident Danielle Parnell, preparing for a triumphant march down the runway and back, haughtily and loudly remarked, "well Rebecca, while there's no question that Nicole is the ‘loser’ here, it appears we also have a winner and -- not surprisingly -- it's me!"

The already aroused men in the crowd were transfixed by the arrogant dominatrix on stage. That she could watch another woman literally come apart at the seams and shamelessly revel in it threw gas on the fire of their collective lust for her. What's more, the imperious Mrs. Parnell sensed their common yearning and was keen to tease the men to their breaking point.

To that end, and in an effort to further assert her dominion over their hapless wives and girlfriends, the victorious Danielle Parnell dismissively remarked to the nearby Rachel and Katherine, "what’s the matter ladies? Did you think your fat friend's ridiculously inappropriate display could end any other way? Or you Miras, did you suppose you and your bulldog twin there would be standing here as the winners tonight . . . did you? How about you Katherine, will you be able to contain yourself later as you run the show of Silver's stripping over and over again in your head? I don't think so."

Disdainfully sneering at the women in the crowd, while knowing that her dominance of them made their male mates want her all the more, Mrs. Parnell and Charlie began their victory lap down the runway only to find their way impeded by the seated, catatonic form of the still shocked and sniveling Julian Silver. In a voice she thought only the boy could hear, Danielle taunted, "get out of my way you little loser. And thank your mom for confirming my suspicion that the two of you share your panties."

Stepping around the defeated Julian to continue what in her mind would be the last, best stroll of the evening, the arrogant Mrs. Parnell failed to notice the very flaw in the boardwalk that had ensnared Nicole Silver. What was also not yet apparent to the imperious alpha-lawyer was that in her earlier brief tangle with the escaping Louie, the fleeing poodle's lobster claw leash hook had briefly caught on and pulled a bit at the zipper at the back of Mrs. Parnell's dog-print mini skirt -- a zipper that was now just a few small teeth from opening completely.

In what quickly became a case study in the famous Santayana quote -- "those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it" -- one of Danielle's 5" peep toe heels became trapped between two of the boardwalk's slats. But unlike Louie the poodle, who upon being jerked to a stop strained at the leash in an effort to continue moving forward, Charlie -- the 100 pound Parnell family dalmatian -- turned quickly around and, rearing up on his large spotted hind paws, planted his two front feet on Danielle's firm waist in an effort to give his stranded mistress a sloppy wet kiss.

It was only upon pushing the dog floor-ward with a stern, "down, Charlie, down . . ." that the magnificent Mrs. Parnell -- as well as everyone else in attendance -- discovered the fate of her mini-skirt's zipper. As the harshly disciplined Charlie's paws dropped from his owner's midsection to the ground, they brought with them Danielle's flouncy, flared, dalmatian spotted mini-skirt. As both the uniformed and civilian men in attendance "snapped to attention" at the sight of Mrs. Parnell's spectacularly fit ass covered only by her dalmatian themed micro-thong, the women in the crowd, particularly Rachel Miras and Katherine Wray doubled over with a mix of laughter and applause.

Danielle meanwhile was in shock as she screamed, "Will . . . don't look at mommy," while trying simultaneously to free her trapped shoe and grab her fallen skirt. But Charlie was having none of it and, startled by the mayhem around him as well as the unfamiliar "dalmatian" at his mistress' feet, dug into the latter with his powerful jaws and, knocking Danielle backward, ran at full tilt with her skirt down the runway.

"Charlie, come back," Maria Parnell could be heard shouting as she, Anna and Alia took off after their fleeing pet.

Unable to break her fall as a result of Charlie's attempted escape, the completely flustered Danielle Parnell careened ass first into the lap of young Julian Silver who was still sitting on the floor in the middle of the runway. Reacting instinctively to the woman about to land on him, Julian reached his hands out towards Mrs. Parnell's to help break her fall. Startled by the skinny fingers now grasping her tan, toned shoulders, and at last having freed her shoe from the wooden jaws that held it, Danielle attempted to jump back to her feet while chiding Julian to "get your hands off me you little pervert."

In what would be his third unintended wardrobe malfunction "assist" of the evening, the colossally awkward Julian Silver, thinking he could use the shoulder straps of Mrs. Parnell's tank top to assist her to her feet, held fast to those straps as she bounded up unassisted the result of which was to tear the black ribbed garment entirely from her sexy tanned back. As the startled sexpot regained her footing amidst the hollers, whistles, catcalls, applause and, especially from the women, howling laughter -- the full weight of her predicament hit her like a ton of bricks. How did this happen? Where are my clothes? Oh my God, Will can see me in my panties! And all these people -- these nobodies -- they can see my sexy, practically naked, body. No -- this can't be happening -- they're pointing and laughing.

And they most certainly were!

"I love the thong Cruella," taunted Rebecca Ross as she read the glittering message atop Danielle's tiny thong.

"Look at that ass," howled Katherine Wray -- more aroused on this night than she had been in her entire life.

The still stunned, mortified mother of three, with her mouth hanging open and her eyes the size of saucers, stared vacantly at the laughing crowd. But then, upon spying the "dorky" Julian Silver at her feet holding her torn shirt in his bony hands, Mrs. Parnell reared back with an open palm shouting, "you . . . little . . . spaz . . . this is all your fault . . ." But as she swung her arm at the cowering Julian's face -- Danielle's ensuing slap was suddenly and powerfully stopped by the vice-like grip that the short but sturdy Rachel Miras placed on her wrist.

"You leave that boy alone you little tease," raged the determined Mrs. Miras. "It's time that someone taught you a lesson. The only one who's going to get a spanking tonight is you!"

As the entire crowd went wild, its women cheering Rachel on as if she was a conquering heroine, the increasingly humiliated queen bee -- Danielle Marie Parnell -- tried one last time to regain control. Somewhat frantically, but with as much authority as her current situation would permit, Mrs. Parnell commanded, "let go of me this instant you fat cow. Just who do you think you are!?!"

"I'm the girl whose finally going to give you what you deserve you show-off," responded Rachel Miras without missing a beat and, as Katherine Wray handed her a white wooden folding chair from beside the runway, the stocky Mrs. Miras, after unclasping the shocked prima donna's dog-print bra from her spectacularly pert tits, pulled a startled Danielle Parnell across her lap and began paddling the sexy mom's posterior.

"That's for taking my parking spot this morning," cried out the now dominant Mrs. Miras as she spanked Danielle's taught bottom.

"And that's for making fun of Katherine," continued Rachel, bringing the pain to Mrs. Parnell as the appreciative and nearly orgasmic Katherine Wray shouted in her dulcet Southern tones, "you go girl -- give it to her good!"

"And that's for telling me I look like my dog. In fact, looking at your sl*tty little outfit tonight it seems you're the one who looks like a dog. Why don't you bark for me doggy," taunted Rachel Miras as she continued to redden the uber-MILF's behind.

"Please . . . no . . . not that," whispered Danielle feebly, thinking back to how she had teased her own sexy reflection with that very command only a few short hours earlier.

"I said BARK . . . LIKE . . . A . . . DOG," bellowed Rachel Miras punctuating each word of her command with an ever more forceful slap.

What happened next was, for many women in attendance that night, a high water mark of vindication for the abuses that Mrs. Danielle Parnell had heaped upon them over the years.

"Woof," chirped the humiliated Danielle softly from the lap of Rachel Miras as the broken alpha lawyer's eyes locked with those of her son Will right before the boy passed out.

Buoyed by her success thus far, the stout Mrs. Miras continued "bad dog -- I can't hear you!!"

"I'm sorry Mistress," croaked Danielle sheepishly, "WOOF, WOOF, WOOF, WOOF." And then, as if freed by her humiliation Danielle loudly confessed, "I am a bad dog, a very, very bad dog . . . a very bad girl dog . . ."

"And what do we call a girl dog, Danni? Tell me . . . what are you," teased Rachel Miras while softly "petting" Danielle on her head.

Completely broken at this point and having slid from Rachel's lap onto the runway where, on all fours wearing only her 5" black and white spotted heels and her now soaking wet dog-print Cruella thong, Mrs. Danielle Parnell conceded what everyone already knew.

"I'm a b*tch."

And as money flew at the stage in support of PAWS for the Cause, Rebecca Ross d****d the winner's sash over the neck of the astonished, broken, former tease. It read simply, "Best in Show."

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.”