Will’s Mom Comes Undone
 

Danielle Parnell looked at herself in the mirror. At 43, from ample time in the gym and great genetics, she looked fantastic. Standing only 5'2" she had legs that seemed those of a super model – firm, toned and leading to a fantastic heart-shaped ass. Her tiny waist and toned abs were a perfect complement to her pert 34C breasts. With green eyes and shoulder length brown hair she simply oozed sex appeal. The problem was – she knew it. And more than that, she loved that others knew it and loved lording it over them.

The lawyer and mother of three was one of those women who turned up her nose at her idyllic neighborhood’s non-working moms. Each year she would count the days until the neighborhood pool opened and then, after many of the other families had already arrived, would make a grand entrance in her high wedge heels, a cover up, a wide brimmed hat, sunglasses and the season’s most fashionable bikini – respectable but planned with the purpose of making fathers (and their sons) drool and mothers seethe – she loved it. What’s more, while she would knowingly tease the men, if any of them as much as attempted to reciprocate she would give them a withering look and then loudly lecture them about their inappropriate behavior. It was that part she loved the most, leaving men tongue tied and humiliated and implying to their wives that if they took better care of themselves their husbands’ eyes wouldn't wander.

At work she always dressed to the nines. Heels were never lower than 4” and her form fitting skirts, although “appropriate” (one of her favorite words), were always slightly above her knee. She often wore sleeveless blouses or dresses to show off her fit arms. In the office generally, and in meetings in particular, she reveled in the male attention lavished upon her and looked down at her female colleagues all of whom were intimidated by her haughtiness and domineering nature – “losers,” she would think to herself, “all of them.”

She simply delighted in teasing men, leaving them hard and speechless, by always reminding them what they couldn't have. It wasn't uncommon for her, after teasing a colleague at work, or a soccer dad at one of her kid’s games, to then loudly and publicly chide him with a, “perhaps if you spent less time staring at me and more paying attention to the task at hand . . . ” type comment. She would make sure that everyone around knew she did not approve of this “inappropriate” behavior. Of course, on the inside she arrogantly delighted not only in her power over men but even more so in how by shaming them she was also humiliating their wives – “fat pigs – they wish they were half as hot as I.” Suffice it to say the women in her neighborhood as well as those at work despised her.

Not surprisingly, as a mother Danielle was the first to call the school to complain about a teacher, to reprimand a coach about not giving one of her children enough playing time or to make it clear to some stay-at-home mom who volunteered as a den mother that she was doing it all wrong.

It was that last pronouncement that had led to this day in 2011. After publicly berating her 11 year old son Will’s prior den mother, Emma Duncan, at a Cub Scout meeting (in front of most of the families in her community), Mrs. Duncan quit and Danielle condescendingly agreed to take over as den mother herself. Specifically, after Danielle’s son Will forgot his lines in a skit and then proceeded to cry, Danielle leaped up from her seat in the audience and let Emma know that if she spent more time working with the boys instead of “stuffing that fat frame into that inappropriately small uniform in an effort to distract their fathers” none of this would have happened. Of course, poor Emma, who although a bit overweight had forgone getting a new den mother uniform because money was tight, withered at the snide Mrs. Parnell’s criticism, burst into tears herself and quit.

While Danielle detested having to meet weekly with the gaggle of 11 year-old mischief makers that were the 10 boys in the den, the only event left for the season was the big Cub Scout meeting to celebrate the 235th anniversary of the nation’s founding. After she got them through that she’d be able to claim success, brag about how she saved the scouts from the incompetent and inappropriate Mrs. Emma Duncan, and gracefully bow out.

Admiring herself again in the mirror as she prepared for the big event she couldn't help but gloat. She stood in her 4.5” blue stilettos wearing only a tiny, sheer “cub scout blue” thong bikini (with a yellow bobcat stenciled on the crotch) and an equally sheer yellow push-up bra designed to emphasize her already sizeable bosom. Before putting on her skirt, blouse and jacket she fastened the yellow Cub Scout scarf around her neck and put the blue den mother’s beret on her head. She smirked inwardly as she thought about how all of the loser dads in the audience would kill to see her looking like this but never would and how their pathetic wives could only dream about stirring that type of desire in a man -- she simply loved herself. With that she put on her sleeveless, fitted, button up yellow blouse and her wrap around blue pleated uniform skirt. After topping it off with a bolero style uniform jacket she looked completely the vision of officialdom and authority.
Leading her ten scouts into the local high school gym, she walked with a little extra sway in her hips to make sure everyone knew she was queen bee. The gym was teeming with about three hundred people -- from the 70 or so scouts, to their parents, grandparents, brothers and sisters, to local politicians and, finally, to some local TV news teams that had come to cover the big event.

The audience sat in a large circle surrounding each of the ten dens, with the scouts sitting “indian style” on the floor in a row behind each of their respective den mothers who sat in front of them on a folding chair (Mrs. Duncan had been convinced to return to lead another den so she was back again as well). As she walked “her boys” to their position in the circle Danielle basked in the attention she knew she was getting from all males in attendance. As usual – she loved that they couldn't keep their eyes off her and imagined them lusting after what they would never have. She also took a special pleasure in knowing that their wives and girlfriends knew she was their better in every way and couldn't do a thing about it.

With that, the night began. A dogged progression of skits from Paul Revere’s ride, to the Boston Tea party (Danielle’s den’s production), to the Battle of Bunker Hill where tennis balls spray painted black stood in for cannon balls and ketchup for blood.

Finally it was time for the last skit, where Emma Duncan’s den would reenact Washington crossing the Delaware. As the boys started making their way across the floor holding a paper boat at their sides, the kids from the Battle of Bunker Hill (who were now bored to tears) decided it would be fun to throw some “cannon balls” into the mix. All at once it was Bedlam. Poor Emma Duncan who had already been humiliated once at a Cub Scout meeting was apoplectic. She bounded from her seat into the fray as her boys (and she) got pelted by the tennis balls.

Meanwhile, Danielle was rolling her eyes at the inappropriate nature of the entire scene. “Savages,” she thought to herself. That said, she knew she couldn't let this mayhem continue and had to do something. Having taken off her jacket earlier, she decided it was time to march out into this mess and restore some order before that foolish cow Emma Duncan caused any more trouble. What she didn't realize was that sitting right beneath her chair her son Will had somehow managed to get his toy Kentucky rifle from the Boston Tea party skit up the side of his mom’s pleated skirt.

As Danielle purposefully strode into the mix time appeared to slow down to a crawl. The bayonet atop her son’s rifle undid the clasp inside her skirt and the skirt began to open. Feeling the resistance, Will gave a mighty pull and fell backwards just as his mother strongly marched into the middle of the commotion. The ripping sound cut through the gym like a knife as Danielle’s torn skirt flew off the end of Will’s gun and into the crowd. In the meantime, shocked silence was replaced by a collective groan from the men and a roar of laughter from the women as the haughty Mrs. Parnell now stood before them in her 4.5” heels, tiny blue thong and sleeveless yellow blouse.

Danielle was frozen. The usual superior grin on her face replaced by eyes the size of saucers and a dropped jaw as her hands struggled between covering the bobcat on the front of her thong and shielding her now there-for-all-to-see fabulous ass. The humiliation was overwhelming. Where was her skirt? How could all these commoners be leering at her? She had to run. It was at this point that Emma Duncan saw the chance for a little payback. Standing behind Danielle she tapped her on the shoulder preparing to with a smile on her face ask her “who was the inappropriate one now.”

Of course, the debacle of the skirmishing boys had gone on unabated and as Danielle turned around one of the boys accidentally took Emma Duncan’s legs out from under her. As Danielle began to scream, “what the hell do you think YOU’RE doing,” poor Emma began her fall and, instinctively reaching out to stop herself, caught the lapels of Danielle’s fitted yellow blouse which gave way both in the front and back before tearing completely off. There for all to see was the arrogant, know-it-all, tease – Danielle Parnell – wearing only her blue high heels, tiny blue thong, sheer yellow push-up bra, Cub Scout scarf and beret.

Gone was any hope of propriety, any hint of arrogance. As cell phones, cameras and the local news recorded her humiliation for posterity, all Danielle could muster was a stunned, daffy look on her once smug face. That is until Emma Duncan, who by now had gotten to her feet, gave Danielle a slap on her perfect ass. Awakened from the trance of humiliation, the last anyone saw of Mrs. Parnell was her running in her high heels, bra and thong panties toward the exit door of the gym – Will’s mom had come undone.

hey really loved this story and this character wondering if you are planning on continuing this?

Thanks for appreciating it. I think as far as it goes this particular story is done. Scratching my head about whether to bring more shame the character's way.

would love this character to suffer more, fantastically written would love to see her stripped all the way.

Bravo on this story, especially liked the choice of clothes and the way her shoes and thong matched but her bra didn't something in me could just imagine the contrast and smiled. Only wished it could of been longer and a full ENF story but this is a fantastic taster for what I am hoping will turn into a wonderful series.

Thanks for the kind words Dr. V. As I intimated to divalover, my instinct was to have this be a standalone story. Believe it or not it's based on an incident from 1976 (when yours truly was a Cub Scout) where a friend's mom had her skirt accidentally but unceremoniously ripped off by her unwitting son. Of course, the woman in question, while attractive in this old man's memory, was also quite a nice person and the incident was over relatively quickly. That said, the character of Mrs. Parnell derives from a woman I know now who, although a friend, is every bit the archetype described in the story. For me it's all about the comeuppance -- the fall of the proud if you will. With that in mind, I'll try to see if I can't plan a few more misadventures for the preening diva that is Danielle.

Nice to hear a bit of back story and also nice to hear you might make more excellent work mate.

Version 2.0
 

Below is a slightly revised version of my original story based on an alternative ending that Hman was kind enough to develop upon reading the draft posted at IO's ASN Storyboard (see his unadulterated work over at http://disc.yourwebapps.com/discussi...0Story%20Board -- great stuff). Comments are welcom.


Danielle Parnell looked at herself in the mirror. At 43, from ample time in the gym and great genetics, she looked fantastic. Standing only 5'2" she had legs that seemed those of a super model – firm, toned and leading to a fantastic heart-shaped ass. Her tiny waist and toned abs were a perfect complement to her pert 34C breasts. With green eyes and shoulder length brown hair she simply oozed sex appeal. The problem was – she knew it. And more than that, she loved that others knew it and loved lording it over them.

The lawyer and mother of three was one of those women who turned up her nose at her idyllic neighborhood’s non-working moms. Each year she would count the days until the neighborhood pool opened and then, after many of the other families had already arrived, would make a grand entrance in her high wedge heels, a cover up, a wide brimmed hat, sunglasses and the season’s most fashionable bikini – respectable but planned with the purpose of making fathers (and their sons) drool and mothers seethe – she loved it. What’s more, while she would knowingly tease the men, if any of them as much as attempted to reciprocate she would give them a withering look and then loudly lecture them about their inappropriate behavior. It was that part she loved the most, leaving men tongue tied and humiliated and implying to their wives that if they took better care of themselves their husbands’ eyes wouldn't wander.

At work she always dressed to the nines. Heels were never lower than 4” and her form fitting skirts, although “appropriate” (one of her favorite words), were always slightly above her knee. She often wore sleeveless blouses or dresses to show off her fit arms. In the office generally, and in meetings in particular, she reveled in the male attention lavished upon her and looked down at her female colleagues all of whom were intimidated by her haughtiness and domineering nature – “losers,” she would think to herself, “all of them.”

She simply delighted in teasing men, leaving them hard and speechless, by always reminding them what they couldn't have. It wasn't uncommon for her, after teasing a colleague at work, or a soccer dad at one of her kid’s games, to then loudly and publicly chide them with a, “perhaps if you spent less time staring at me and more paying attention to the task at hand . . . ” type comment. She would make sure that everyone around knew she did not approve of this “inappropriate” behavior. Of course, on the inside she arrogantly delighted not only in her power over men but even more so in how by shaming them she was also humiliating their wives – “fat pigs – they wish they were half as hot as I.” Suffice it to say the women in her neighborhood as well as those at work despised her.

Not surprisingly, as a mother Danielle was the first to call the school to complain about a teacher, to reprimand a coach about not giving one of her children enough playing time or to make it clear to some stay-at-home mom who volunteered as a den mother that she was doing it all wrong.

It was that last pronouncement that had led to this day in 2011. After publicly berating her 11 year old son Will’s prior den mother, Emma Duncan, at a Cub Scout meeting (in front of most of the families in her community), Mrs. Duncan quit and Danielle condescendingly agreed to take over as den mother herself. Specifically, after Danielle’s son Will forgot his lines in a skit and then proceeded to cry, Danielle leaped up from her seat in the audience and let Emma know that if she spent more time working with the boys instead of “stuffing that fat frame into that inappropriately small uniform in an effort to distract their fathers” none of this would have happened. Of course, poor Emma, who although a bit overweight had forgone getting a new den mother uniform because money was tight, withered at the snide Mrs. Parnell’s criticism, burst into tears herself and quit. One of the community’s nicest women had been cowed and summarily dispatched by one of its most arrogant.

While Danielle detested having to meet weekly with the gaggle of 11 year-old mischief makers that were the 10 boys in the den, the only event left for the season was the big Cub Scout meeting to celebrate the 235th anniversary of the nation’s founding. After she got them through that she’d be able to claim success, brag about how she saved the scouts from the incompetent and inappropriate Mrs. Emma Duncan, and gracefully bow out.

Admiring herself again in the mirror as she prepared for the big event she couldn't help but gloat. She stood in her 4.5” blue stilettos wearing only a tiny, sheer “cub scout blue” thong bikini (with a yellow bobcat stenciled on the crotch) and an equally sheer yellow push-up bra designed to emphasize her already sizeable bosom. Before putting on her skirt, blouse and jacket she fastened the yellow Cub Scout scarf around her neck and put the blue den mother’s beret on her head. She smirked inwardly as she thought about how all of the loser dads in the audience would kill to see her looking like this but never would and how their pathetic wives could only dream about stirring that type of desire in a man -- she simply loved herself. With that she put on her sleeveless, fitted, button up yellow blouse and her wrap around blue pleated uniform skirt. After topping it off with a bolero style uniform jacket she looked completely the vision of officialdom and authority.

Leading her ten scouts into the local high school gym, she walked with a little extra sway in her hips to make sure everyone knew she was queen bee. The gym was teeming with about three hundred people -- from the 70 or so scouts, to their parents, grandparents, brothers and sisters, to local politicians and, finally, to some local TV news teams that had come to cover the big event.

The audience sat in a large circle surrounding each of the ten dens, with the scouts sitting “indian style” on the floor in a row behind each of their respective den mothers who sat in front of them on a folding chair (Mrs. Duncan had been convinced to return to lead another den so she was back again as well). As she walked “her boys” to their position in the circle Danielle basked in the attention she knew she was getting from all males in attendance. As usual – she loved that they couldn't keep their eyes off her and imagined them lusting after what they would never have. She also took a special pleasure in knowing that their wives and girlfriends knew she was their better in every way and couldn't do a thing about it. Little did she realize that they could – and tonight they would.

With that, the night began. A dogged progression of skits from Paul Revere’s ride, to the Boston Tea party (Danielle’s den’s production), to the Battle of Bunker Hill where tennis balls spray painted black stood in for cannon balls and ketchup for blood.

Finally it was time for the last skit, where Emma Duncan’s den would reenact Washington crossing the Delaware. As the boys started making their way across the floor holding a paper boat at their sides, the kids from the Battle of Bunker Hill (who were now bored to tears) decided it would be fun to throw some “cannon balls” into the mix. All at once it was Bedlam. Poor Emma Duncan who had already been humiliated once at a Cub Scout meeting was apoplectic. She bounded from her seat into the fray as her boys (and she) got pelted by the tennis balls.

Meanwhile, Danielle was rolling her eyes at the inappropriate nature of the entire scene. “Savages,” she thought to herself as she turned from the lunacy in front of her to give a contemptuous look to the ultimate source of this pack of wild animals – the “pathetic array” of dumpy mothers sitting behind her. That said, she knew she couldn't let this mayhem continue and had to do something. Having taken off her jacket earlier, she decided it was time to march out into this mess and restore some order before that foolish cow Emma Duncan caused any more trouble. What she didn't realize was that sitting right beneath her chair her son Will had somehow managed to get his toy Kentucky rifle from the Boston Tea party skit up the side of his mom’s pleated skirt. What happened next would become local legend.

As Danielle purposefully strode into the mix time appeared to slow down to a crawl. The bayonet atop her son’s rifle undid the clasp inside her skirt and the skirt began to open. Feeling the resistance, Will gave a mighty pull and fell backwards just as his mother strongly marched into the middle of the commotion. The ripping sound cut through the gym like a knife as Danielle’s torn skirt flew off the end of Will’s gun and into the crowd. In the meantime, shocked silence was replaced by a collective groan from the men – who glimpsed the perfection of Mrs. Parnell’s firm and now exposed posterior -- and a roar of laughter from the women as the haughty Mrs. Parnell now stood before them in her 4.5” heels, tiny blue thong and sleeveless yellow blouse. Her public comeuppance had begun.

Danielle was frozen. The usual superior grin on her face replaced by eyes the size of saucers and a dropped jaw as her hands struggled between covering the bobcat on the front of her thong and shielding her now there-for-all-to-see fabulous ass. The humiliation was overwhelming. Where was her skirt? How could all these commoners be leering at her? Had she just been stripped by her own son? She had to run. It was at this point that the howling Emma Duncan saw the chance for a little payback. Standing behind Danielle she tapped her on the shoulder and asked “are you starting a new fashion trend Mrs. Parnell? Who is the inappropriate one now?”

Had she paused for even a moment, the half-dressed Mrs. Parnell may have prevented what happened next – alas, she did not. The fun poked at her by Emma was enough to cause Danielle’s imperiousness momentarily to return and -- irked by the other woman’s mockery, she petulantly exclaimed, “what the hell do you think YOU’RE doing you fat cow,” before rearing back and slapping poor Emma across her face.

Suddenly all the years of snide comments, eye-rolling and abject humiliation at the hands of this woman bubbled to the surface of the ceaselessly sweet, but now completely enraged, Emma Duncan. Grabbing the lapels of Danielle’s tightly fitted yellow blouse, Mrs. Duncan pulled down with all her might causing the garment to give way both in the front and back before tearing completely off. There for all to see was the arrogant, know-it-all, tease – Danielle Parnell – wearing only her blue high heels, tiny blue thong, sheer yellow push-up bra, Cub Scout scarf and beret.

Gone was any hope of propriety, any hint of arrogance. As cell phones, cameras and the local news recorded her humiliation for posterity, all Danielle could muster was a stunned, daffy look on her once smug face. That is until Emma, whose adrenaline was coursing through her veins as it had never before, grabbed the quivering prima donna by the wrist and marched her over to the dessert table that had been setup by some of the more dedicated den mothers. Those same mothers were now laughing uproariously, ecstatic at the sight of Danielle’s reversal of fortune – it had been a long time coming they thought and couldn't be more well deserved.

“So we are all fat cows, are we Miss High and Mighty. Well I think you need a little fattening up yourself -- have some cake.”

With that Emma unceremoniously pushed Danielle’s beautiful face into a seven layer chocolate cake. When the usually exquisite Mrs. Parnell’s face reappeared it was dripping with thick chocolate and her hair, still supporting the beret, was a mess. The escapade only amplified the taunts and laughter from the cheering crowd of women.

To call it a fight would not be fair. Danielle was so mortified she put up no resistance. As Mrs. Parnell stood stupefied in her stilettos, Emma began the end.

“Don’t worry sweetie” she said sarcastically, “you can keep your bra and thong on, along with that ridiculous looking beret.”

And ridiculous it was. There stood the once untouchable queen bee, stripped to her sexy underwear and covered in cake in front of a room full of people she had tormented, degraded and looked down upon for years. Asking for a chair, Emma sat down and pulled the horrified Danielle across her lap, and wishing to prolong the diva’s agony a bit longer, she implored of the appreciative assemblage of other mothers, “well ladies -- has she had enough or do you think this snob needs a spanking.”

“Tan her little hide Emma,” and “not so hot looking now is she,” were just a few of the comments that provided Mrs. Duncan with her answer.

Spiritedly but futilely trying to reestablish her authority Danielle protested “how dare you – you nobody -- let me up this instant, do you know who I am?”

“Yes we do,” Emma quickly replied, “and that’s exactly why you’re going to get what you deserve.”

And then it began, as camera’s flashed and local news stations rolled, Danielle Parnell was being spanked like the naughty little girl she was.

“Ohhh, ouch, ohhhh, you stop it this instant, ouch it hurts, please – ohhhhh!!”

Emma showed no mercy as the spanks rained down on Danielle’s firm but quickly reddening bottom. In fact, it was becoming difficult to tell which was redder, her gorgeous ass from the spanking, or her face from the humiliation.

“Now Mrs. Parnell,” Emma said as she continued her onslaught, “I believe you referred to me earlier as a fat cow. With the tables turned the way they are, I think it’s time we heard you moo – don’t you ladies.”

Again a loud roar of approval went up from the crowd.

“Start mooing – NOW,” demanded Emma who punctuated her command with a hard smack to Danielle’s posterior.

What the gathered throng heard next was the highlight of the evening.

“Moo,” croaked Danielle -- feebly at first but as the spanks became harder Danielle began to moo in earnest.

“Moo, MOO, MOOOOOO,” she started screaming.

The women she so deplored were now doubled over in pain from laughter. Their arrogant, holier-than-thou nemesis was being spanked in public in her bra, thong, heels, scarf and beret -- by one of them no less. What’s more she was mooing like a cow.

“Who is the fat cow now Mrs. Parnell?” Emma bellowed. “Say it!”

Despite knowing it wasn’t true, notwithstanding the thousands of hours in the gym that so helped define her physical glory and the affirmation of it by every man who ever set eyes on her, and dreading the words as the lowest form of debasement, the now broken Mrs. Parnell cried out, “I am, I am, I am a fat cow, a naughty little girl and a fat cow.”

With that, and to the collective cheers of the community, the triumphant Mrs. Duncan dumped Danielle off her lap and onto the floor. The last anyone saw of Mrs. Parnell was her running in her high heels, bra and thong panties toward the exit door of the gym, her glorious bottom a very bright shade of red. Will’s mom had indeed come undone.

Great!!! Continue!
 

Well done!
More comments and ideas here: http://disc.yourwebapps.com/discussion.cgi?disc=58894;article=49275;title=The% 20ASN%20Story%20Board

fantastic !!! wow your a really talented writer and I loved the updated version well done.

Thanks Dr. V -- and thanks Samos. I'm working on a two new Mrs. Parnell stories and hope to have one posted before the weekend is over.

Have you read Dugans and my comments here: http://disc.yourwebapps.com/discussion.cgi?disc=58894;article=49275;title=The% 20ASN%20Story%20Board ?

I think a full enf story of danielle would be amazing maybe have her have her revenge but then in the end she is the villian who gets what she derserves.

small note
 

Just note: Please, don't be hurry to punish Danielle. Go slow. The story is builded differently - The degree of our fun by her humiliation is directly proportional to her previous arrogant and pompous behavior...:-)

As Dugan writes: The best part is, where Danielle looks in the mirror admiring herself. She is pretty confident about herself, about her social status, beauty... There is nice to see her arrogance and pleasure to torment and to tease everybody around her by her sexy appearance and provocative clothing... She thinks, that she is untouchable in her sexy lingerie under tight costume and well protected by her social status. She knows soon, she was mistaken.
The story has big potencial. You can be sure, Danielle desires for her revenge. At the beginning she will be successful. With food growing appetite. She doesn't leave her's rivals their underwear wearing on. Actually she has wonderfull fan to strip them completely off. In her arrogance she does not expect to get sometimes her own lesson.

And I am adding: Especially I liked the description of Mrs. Danielle. Her passion for respect, for her perfect looks, for her sexy thong bikinis, for her teasing men and humiliation of woman..., and, of course, most of all I like the element of revenge :-) when the superior lady gets what she deserves (at end!!!)

Anyway, thanks again.

Promotion Commotion: A Tale of Mrs. Parnell
 

As she eased her Mercedes into a parking spot at her daughter Anna’s middle school, Mrs. Danielle Parnell didn’t give a second thought to the fact that she was fifteen minutes late for the final PTA meeting before the students’ impending promotion ceremony the following weekend. In fact, she wasn’t even a member of the PTA – far from it. She was a powerful lawyer – one as intelligent as she was gorgeous. Walking toward the school she was every bit the image of the alpha female. The stylish black 4” high heels on her feet supported a pair of tanned, toned legs covered above the knee by a black pin-stripe pencil skirt that in turn encased an ass that God and a ruthless fitness regimen had rendered nearly perfect. Having left her jacket in the car she wore only a crisp short-sleeve white oxford shirt above the waste topped by a fitted pin-stripe vest – her firm arms on display for all to see. She smiled sexily as she caught her own reflection in the glass of the school house door. Her impeccably coiffed shoulder length brown hair, her emerald green eyes and her immaculately white teeth revealed to her the image she loved the most --- herself.

As the 43 year old beauty strutted down the main hallway of Davidson Central Middle School, emphasizing each step with a little extra sway of her hips, the click-clack of her heels foretold her arrival to the gathered parents and teachers in the midst of their association’s meeting. Without as much as a “pardon me,” or a “sorry I’m late,” Mrs. Parnell pushed open the swinging doors to the cafeteria and proceeded very purposefully to walk to the front row and take a seat.

She didn't feel she needed the pardon of these people nor was she sorry – although she thought all of them most certainly were. What she did need, what she loved, was the rush she got from leaving the assembled husbands slack-jawed in awe of her beauty while their unworthy wives seethed at how easily she rendered them all invisible – the “losers.” Surveying the sea of frumpy house fraus before her, be they mother or teacher, in their dumpy mom jeans with their khaki wearing pathetic husbands was a drug to Danielle. And her highest high came from catching one of the men in the act of admiring her. Catching him and loudly scolding him – ideally in front of his humiliated wife and her friends – for his “inappropriate” behavior.

Snaring the Superintendent of the Davidson School System in just such a trap was the predicate for her appearance at the meeting. A week before the meeting, at a gala charity fundraiser for the school, Dr. Eric Bloom, said superintendent and one of the town’s kindest people, had accidentally bumped into the arrogant Mrs. Parnell, spilling just a drop of white wine on her black evening gown.

“Perhaps if you watched where you were going you clumsy oaf, rather than ogling my chest, you wouldn’t have ruined my gown,” she scolded him.

Her loud remonstrance had the intended effect of making him seem a lecherous pervert (although he was nothing of the sort). As she inwardly delighted in his discomfort – and simply reveled in the humiliation that her protests heaped upon his nearby wife – she turned up the heat some more.

“I see no choice but to go to the school board about this, Dr. Bloom. First you deny me the opportunity to take part in the middle school promotion ceremony and now you practically assault me. I see now that the former prohibition was merely a consequence of your inability to control your inappropriate urges.”

That Dr. Bloom had denied the preening Mrs. Parnell anything was pure fiction. In reality, upon hearing from the Central Middle School principal, Lori Whiting, that the officious Mrs. Parnell was lobbying hard to hand out the diplomas to the promoted students, Dr. Bloom had very patiently and calmly phoned Danielle to explain that the role she wanted was one bestowed upon the PTA President each year to thank that person for his or her service. He had further explained that this year’s president, Rachel Miras, had devoted a substantial amount of time and effort to the PTA and was really looking forward to presenting the students with their diplomas. In short, he denied Danielle’s request.

All that changed with the wine incident. “There is no need to go to the board,” stammered the chastened Dr. Bloom at the gala. “I’m so terribly sorry for my urges . . . I mean for spilling my wine . . . I mean . . . the decision about who distributes the diplomas is mine alone and I and the PTA would be delighted for you to have that honor.”

“And my daughter Anna will lead the Pledge of Allegiance too . . . won’t she Dr. Bloom,” the imperious woman glowered back at him.

“Um . . . but . . . well . . . I mean yes, yes she will,” babbled the defeated superintendent.

Danielle had won again – of course – and she attended that evening’s PTA meeting just to make that clear – and to flaunt both her beauty and superiority. It worked. The fathers and male teachers in the room sat staring transfixed at the sexy lawyer in her high fashion pin stripe suit, only stoking more the fire of Mrs. Parnell’s limitless ego. The mothers and female staff, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to see the haughty Parnell woman taken down a peg or two but were too intimidated by her ever to act on that impulse.

Particularly crestfallen was the now “demoted” Mrs. Miras, who in addition to losing her own role at the ceremony needed to explain to her daughter Sharon why she would no longer be leading the Pledge of Allegiance this weekend. But for the surprise appearance of Mrs. Parnell, the meeting was uneventful – the corpulent Principal Whiting (who weighed in at nearly 200 pounds but was only 5’ 5” tall – a fact that disgusted Danielle) merely reviewed the agenda for the upcoming event. When it finally ended, all that mattered to supremely confident Mrs. Parnell was that when Saturday’s promotion ceremony came she would be a central figure on stage – a forbidden fantasy for all the town’s weak minded men and boys and an example to its pathetic women.

On the morning of the event Danielle charged her husband with getting Anna and their other two kids to the school on time while she got ready for her big debut. The day had not been without event because young Anna had asked if she could wear a stylish but somewhat shorter skirt to her promotion.

“Not a chance missy,” Danielle had scolded her, “no child of mine is going to embarrass herself, me and this family by wearing something so inappropriate.”

Now that her husband and kids were gone Danielle could focus on her own outfit for the ceremony. After the fetching Mrs. Parnell finished applying her make up, and putting her beautiful hair into a distinguished bun, she slid off her very short silk robe to drink in her greatest desire. Staring back at her from the mirror in a towering pair of 4.5” black heels, a sheer zebra print thong (through which a careful eye might spy a very well-manicured landing strip) and a matching sheer zebra print push up bra, was a vision that would be fodder for any man’s wettest dream – and she loved it. What she loved even more was thinking about how the males in the audience today would kill to see her like this but never would – “morons.” Standing in her cavernous marble bathroom she took a half-turn in front of her mirror, placed a highly manicured hand on her sexy hip and glanced back at the reflection of her spectacular bottom with a smile – “perfect,” she thought to herself. Why do these other women even try?

Self-satisfied as usual, Danielle proceeded to finish dressing. Paying homage both to the Davidson Red Devils – Central Middle School’s mascot – and her own alma mater – Harvard Law School – the ever fashionable Mrs. Parnell had chosen a sleeveless scoop-neck red pencil dress that fastened up the front with a series of seven large black buttons beginning conservatively where the neck dropped down to the start of her ample 34C cleavage and ending just below the knee where the bottom button was left undone to permit her to walk authoritatively. The absence of sleeves accentuated her toned, tan arms and the silhouette created by the form fitting dress and her high stiletto heels was appropriate but breathtaking she thought – and she was right.

What Danielle didn’t know was that just ten days before this her young son Will had decided to use the very red dress she had just put on as a makeshift cape while taking on the persona of Super Man in the backyard. When Alia, the Parnell family nanny, saw Will and put a stop to it the dress was a complete mess – wrinkled and covered in mud. To save Will from the punishment that was sure to come if his mother found out, Alia had taken the dress to the dry cleaners and had it restored as good as new – well -- as good as new save for the fact that unbeknownst to anyone (yet) the powerful cleaning solvent required to remove the mud without ruining the color had caused the fine silk thread that both secured the big black buttons and held the seams at the shoulders and back together, to fray and weaken greatly.

Danielle finished the outfit off with a black pearl choker and a very high fashion round large-brimmed black straw hat that was more suitable for The Kentucky Derby than a middle school promotion but that further added to her air of superiority, appropriateness and privilege.

Putting on her large round lensed Chanel sunglasses she strode proudly out the front door and into her Mercedes convertible for the ride to school. Along the way she took delight that while everyone else on the stage that day – parents, students and teachers alike – would be t****sing around in a black polyester gown and cap (no doubt in most cases covering their likewise cheap and tacky polyester clothes), she in her fabulous red ensemble would be the center of attention. As she pulled into the parking lot she wickedly thought to herself “if those hillbillies ever knew what I had on under this outfit.” Soon enough they would.

In the meantime, teachers, PTA parents and students were putting the finishing touches on the day’s preparations. The ceremony was being held on the Davidson High School football field with the main stage set up in an end-zone so that the expected capacity crowd could fill the seats on the field as well as the stands used for games. Even though it was some thirty minutes before starting time, hundreds of proud parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, brothers and sisters were already streaming in.

Meanwhile, the beehive of activity around the stadium was cover for 16 year old Billy Miras to set the ground work for a harmless prank. Having seen his sister Sharon cry when she learned she wouldn’t be saying the pledge today and his mother relegated to a non-participatory role after a year of hard work leading the PTA, Billy thought some mischief was in order. Specifically, he was spreading some transparent, quick drying, rubber cement on the chair set up for “Anna Parnell – Pledge of Allegiance.” He thought the laughs it would bring when little Anna couldn’t get out of her chair to lead the pledge would be fair recompense to his sister and mom. In his mind of course, after suffering some minor embarrassment from being stuck to the chair, Anna would simply unzip her commencement gown and either lead the pledge as planned in the graduation dress she had on underneath or throw a replacement gown on and lead the pledge that way – no big deal. If he only knew what was to come.

Finally the ceremony began. With nearly a thousand people looking on in the bright May sun, the band struck up a processional march as the faculty and students of Davidson’s Central Middle School came walking out onto the field. Although almost all of the students and teachers filed into rows of chairs in front of the stage, a select few administrators, teachers, students, parents and local dignitaries proceeded up onto the dais. Among them of course was Mrs. Danielle Parnell whom, as she walked in with her head held high and hips swaying just a bit more than usual, delighted in the fact that her spectacular body and sophisticated fashion sense had no doubt already started the men drooling and the women acknowledging their own inferiority.

As Danielle and the others went to take their assigned seats on stage, she noticed that her daughter Anna would be sitting in the front row while she would be sitting immediately behind her. Not going to happen, she thought to herself, and without as much as asking Anna, Danielle reached down and switched the name cards on their seats.

“But mom,” the young girl protested, “that’s supposed to be my seat.”

“You quiet down this instant young lady,” came the pointed reply, “mommy needs to sit where people can see her – she is an adult after all and it’s only appropriate. Now you just sit where I tell you.”

“Yes mom,” Anna replied dejectedly. Although young, Anna knew it was pointless to argue with her mother because her mother always won. As she took her seat, Anna thought of a phrase her dad would often use when describing the predictable behavior of his wife. “Don’t bother arguing honey, a zebra doesn’t change her stripes,” he’d smile.

From there, the ceremony took on the familiar cadence of these things. The principal, Mrs. Whiting, said some words, Anna capably led the crowd in the Pledge of Allegiance, the band stumbled through the bars of The Star Spangled Banner and the top student in the middle school class was permitted to say a (very) few words. For Danielle the entire process had been interminable. It was warm for a May day and she felt like she had been sitting there forever.

Finally it was time to hand out the diplomas and Dr. Bloom stepped up to the podium and began to introduce Danielle.

“Parents, teachers, students . . . today we are most honored to have Mrs. Danielle Parnell here with us to help hand out the diplomas. Mrs. Parnell is a very accomplished and prestigious lawyer, a hallmark of authority and a role model of success for our students to follow.”

She’s a model alright, thought many of the fathers, fantasizing about the preening Mrs. Parnell staring down at them imperiously from her chair. Meanwhile, Danielle was reveling in her introduction because it further cemented in her mind how far apart she stood from the hum-drum soccer moms both in front of her and next to her on stage – particularly that Hobbit Rachel Miras and the obese Principal Whiting. For their part, the women of the community were choking on the praise that the fawning Dr. Bloom was now heaping on “Ms. Perfect.” They all felt the contempt that she held them in and wished, just once, that she would get hers. That wish was soon to come true.

At the same time, Billy Miras was anticipating the punishment that would come his way when the glue that Mrs. Parnell had been sitting in for the last hour stained her expensive dress. How could his prank have gone so wrong? He felt for sure his mom would end up getting blamed and he worried that she might even lose her spot on the PTA.

“So, without further ado, I present to you Mrs. Danielle Parnell,” finished Dr. Bloom as he gestured toward Danielle.
Uncrossing her legs and straightening the bottom of her form fitting red dress, Mrs. Parnell began to rise from her chair only to realize that she seemed to be stuck. A few chuckles could be heard from the teachers on stage as Danielle tried again unsuccessfully to stand up.

“Mom,” asked Anna, “are you okay?”

“Be quiet Anna,” she scolded.

Slightly embarrassed by her predicament, but with a strained smile on her face, Danielle again attempted, more forcefully this time, to stand. Only the most watchful observer would have noticed that as Mrs. Parnell pushed up again it appeared that the seams holding the fancy red dress across her fit shoulders had begun to part. What’s more, the big black button closest to the bottom of her dress had popped off and rolled under her chair.

Rachel Miras was that watchful observer and thinking quickly knew exactly how to fix the situation . . . or at least how to “fix” Mrs. Parnell. Walking around from her seat behind Danielle, Rachel stepped in front of the struggling diva and grabbed her hand. It was time this stuck-up snob got the unveiling that she deserved – Hobbit indeed.

“Here Mrs. Parnell, let me give you a hand,” Rachel smiled sweetly.

By now Danielle was worried. Although most could not yet tell the trouble she was in, she felt the seams parting at her shoulders and watched in horror as the top button on her dress popped off into the band pit revealing a bit more cleavage than she ever intended these “savages” to see. But her awareness came too late.

As Mrs. Parnell attempted to wave off Rachel Miras, Principal Whiting, who was sitting behind Danielle, suddenly understood what was happening and, as Mrs. Miras forcefully “helped” Danielle to her feet, the beefy educator put all of her 200 pounds to work holding Mrs. Parnell’s chair in place. The force of Rachel’s pull, coupled with the strength of the rubber cement and the anchor provided by Principal Whiting, treated the crowd to a most delicious scene. As Danielle was yanked to her feet, the high fashion dress split at the shoulders and in back its big buttons flying from the once stylish frock into the bells of instruments and onto the laps of astonished onlookers. As the once supremely confident Mrs. Parnell was quite literally pulled from her dress, a loud ripping sound together with a terrified scream were heard across the length of the field. The crowd, at first in shocked silence, went wild.

The accomplished attorney and role model that Dr. Bloom had just described now stood before a thousand plus people looking anything but authoritative. Wearing only her black 4.5” heels, sheer zebra striped thong and matching push up bra, a black pearl choker, sunglasses and, best of all, her large, straw, wide-brim Kentucky Derby hat, the once haughty Mrs. Parnell now looked like a cheap stripper!

Danielle was aghast. What had just happened? Where was her dress? How could all these people see her in her most intimate lingerie? As she dropped her head down, her fashionable sunglasses slipped off the end of her perfect nose giving everyone a look at the astonished and dumbfounded gaze on her face. Wanting for cover she sn*tched the giant hat from her head and hid behind it. Of course that only created a more ridiculous scene for the parents, students and teachers on stage who still had a fantastic view of the shocked mother’s firm, zebra thong covered ass. More than one of the moms wanted to give her a well-deserved spanking.

As cameras and cell phones recorded Mrs. Parnell’s undoing, the women of Davidson were in stitches, celebrating the comeuppance of this high and mighty snob. The men in the meantime drunk in the sight of this tease who had tormented and humiliated them for years with Dr. Bloom taking particular pleasure in her predicament.

The chain of events that transpired next put the icing on the cake of Danielle’s downfall. As she turned to run off the stage, across the field and back to her car, the string of black pearls around her neck, that had been damaged when she was torn from her dress, gave way. With her first step she landed squarely on a pearl and, throwing her hat in the air, began a backward fall. Not wanting the stripped prima donna to get hurt, Rachel Miras reached out in earnest to help but succeeded only in grabbing onto the front of Mrs. Parnell’s animal pint bra. Although Rachel’s quick reflexes kept Danielle from tipping back into the band they also caused her sexy bra to separate from its wearer and fly off the stage. Left in only her heels and thong, and while the crowd howled at her humiliation, Danielle sought frantically to finally get out of there.

Of course, in all the confusion, Anna Parnell wanted to help her mom and had taken off her graduation gown (beneath which she was fully dressed) for the purpose of preserving at least some of her mother’s dignity. Although Anna took some small pleasure in her mom’s current situation, she also knew that this was one zebra that now needed to cover up her stripes. Unfortunately, as she made her way toward the near naked Mrs. Parnell, Anna failed to see the black pearls in her path and soon found herself falling to the stage floor. As she grasped for something to steady her descent her small hand found only the side of her mother’s panties which she accidentally, but completely, tore off.

That was all Danielle could take, as she stood in nothing but her high heels with her well-trimmed landing strip there for all to see, the humiliation finally overwhelmed her. When her knees gave way, she tumbled ass-first off the stage smashing through the band’s bass drum that had fallen on its side during the ruckus. Looking down from the stage above, the last image that anyone had of her that day was the glorious body of Danielle Parnell, spread eagle with her heels still on, lying where the Red Devil had formerly adorned the drum.

wow this story is fucking fantastic. I loved the choice of animal print underwear and a little landing strip really gave her something else. Fantastic that it was supposed to be a high school prank and her own self centredness was her ultimate downfall amazing well done.

sorry what i did not mention in the above post, if i had one critic it would be when her breasts were stripped there was no real detail of her breasts like what her nipples looked like and if they were tanned or tan lines. Maybe i'm just being a bit picky but small stuff like that really makes a story for me.

Thanks for the kind words Dr. V -- they're very much appreciated. And your critique is spot on. I should definitely have made more of what went on display once Mrs. P lost her bra. I'll be sure to keep that in mind for the next installment. Thanks again.

Great story, I love that you made it a stand alone, separate from the 1st one. You have created a wonderful character in Danielle Parnell, can only hope next one includes a spanking for our arrogant snob.

Thanks hocman! You can count on our little Miss Perfect coming under the hand of one (or more) of the women she lords over. I may have mentioned before that Danielle is based almost entirely on someone I know well (who actually does behave in the same way as our fictional Mrs. Parnell. Both the outfit she is sporting today and the treatment I just witnessed by her of a staff member only help to set the stage for my next story or two. Hope to have another installment in a week or so.

so nice to see you posting and replying to our comments love that in a writer makes me feel more self assured that you care and will put 100% into your work.

Awww, what a wonderful story! The downfall of the rich arrogant well-dressed snob is exactly what I love! Thank you for sharing your fantasy.

If you take any requests, I would love to see one of the women who humiliate Danielle, end up wearing one of this snooty lady's elegant formal outfits. I think that would be especially painful for the protagonist.

Thanks Alexandra - I couldn't agree more! Somehow the stripping of an imperious self-centered woman in front of those who she considers to be beneath her is a favorite of mine as well. Also, I'm always happy to consider requests. Folks have some great ideas and often make stories better and new ideas come to life. Version 2.0 above is in very large part a function of some wonderful ideas hocman was kind enough to share. Hadn't considered one of the gals who turns the tables on Danielle ending up in her dress but it's a capital thought! Working on another story presently and hope to have it posted before Monday. Thanks again.

real story
 

i think is real story by you,,,,,,,,,,,,if you have more just share with me

Along Came a Spider: A Danielle Parnell Holiday Tale
 

Each of the nicer neighborhoods in Davidson had its own community center and Mrs. Danielle Parnell’s was no different. In fact, the Parnells and the fifty or so other families who lived in Davidson’s nicest neighborhood, each on at least an acre in homes that started at around 5000 square feet, shared a clubhouse, an Olympic size swimming pool and a lovely dock and boardwalk both of which nestled up to the West River that ran through the community. It was here that parents socialized, children played and dogs ran along the “beach” that the neighborhood association had created specifically for the residents’ enjoyment.

It was also here that Mrs. Danielle Parnell exercised her favorite pastime – looking down her nose at Davidson’s other women while slyly currying the attention of its most affluent men and boys -- their husbands and sons. The 43 year-old beauty particularly enjoyed “catching” one of those men as he stared at her spectacular ass or pert 34C breasts, the former most often accentuated by high heels the latter by a push-up bra under a stylish top, and then castigating him in front of his wife by loudly chiding, “it’s very impolite to stare you know, you should be ashamed of yourself – how inappropriate.”

What she enjoyed most though was the humiliation she knew the wives experienced as she publicly emasculated their husbands. She reveled in how the gaggle of soccer moms, brownie leaders and church volunteers all but disappeared when she cast her spell over their pathetic mates. After all, she was a gorgeous high-powered lawyer and they were . . . well . . . nothing.

On this October day, as she stepped out of her brand new Range Rover Sport, Danielle was taking her daughter Maria to the community center’s kids’ Halloween Party – a neighborhood staple that was followed in the evening by the annual Halloween Formal. The latter -- also a tradition -- required attendees to either come in black tie or costume. Although her two older kids were already out trick-or-treating, the nine year old Maria still loved to participate in the party.

As Danielle led her daughter into the clubhouse lobby, whiplash quickly struck the neck of every man who saw her – followed by a rush of blood from each big head on downward. Her black suede stiletto-heeled knee high boots, over a pair of black leggings that snugly cradled an ass that appeared chiseled from marble, confirmed for them again that Mrs. Parnell was a vision of refined sexuality. On top she wore a tight black turtle-neck sweater that emphasized the swell of her ample bosom but left no doubt as to the tautness of her midsection or the tone of her arms. Over the sweater she wore an incredibly stylish lynx fur vest that came down to just above her waist. Open in front the vest permitted onlookers a view of the oversized D&G buckle that fastened her black leather belt. Although she didn’t acknowledge the men – not a one -- she knew that they couldn’t take their eyes off her and she loved it – so typical, so pathetic. But it was the sleeve grabbing, arm punching and throat clearing of the assembled wives as they tried to regain their drooling husbands’ attention that really made Danielle’s day. She loved how her radiance blinded these foolish men to the existence of their frumpy wives.

Maria meanwhile was dressed as witch. She wore green face paint, a witch’s frock and a jaunty, pointy, black witch’s hat. Of course, she also carried a broom and, being somewhat of a tomboy, had additionally managed to sneak out of the Parnell house with her brother Will’s tarantula – George – hidden in a plastic pumpkin. Her mother, who was petrified of spiders generally and George in particular, knew nothing of her daughter’s hitch hiker. Had she even a whiff of it, Mrs. Parnell would have taken Maria right home and given her a very stern lecture about her inappropriate behavior.

As mother and daughter walked into the main ballroom where the party was getting into full swing, Maria headed off to join her friends. Danielle on the other hand, had no intention of staying. In fact she had already tasked the Parnell family nanny, Alia, with picking up Maria after the party so that Danielle would have ample time alone to prepare for the formal. That said, given the nature of any children’s event, Danielle could not avoid “engaging” with some of the other neighborhood moms, most of who were in costume both for purposes of chaperoning the children’s party and for attending the formal later that evening.

Katherine Wray, the willowy and waifish runner of the neighborhood was dressed as Peter Pan.

“She certainly has the chest of a boy,” Danielle thought to herself, emphasizing her own assets as she smiled falsely at the flat chested Mrs. Wray.

Mrs. Rebecca Ross wore the costume of a wood nymph on her body topped off with a wonderfully done paper mache donkey head on top. The somewhat Rubenesque blonde high school English teacher was costumed as Nick Bottom from Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

“That’s a big ass on that big ass,” Mrs. Parnell joked inwardly as, beneath her stylish sunglasses, she rolled her eyes at Rebecca. Although Mrs. Parnell looked down her nose at Davidson’s men and women alike, even she had to admit that Rebecca’s husband, Adam Hess, was a very handsome man – and also a chubby chaser she laughed to herself.

Finally, Danielle acknowledged, barely, Mrs. Nicole Silver and PTA President Rachel Miras, the former outfitted in an ill-fitting “sexy police woman’s” costume and the latter as a character from the Lord of the Rings trilogy.

“That Silver woman should be ashamed of herself,” thought Danielle, “stuffing her oversized body into that inappropriate costume. Talk about cops as pigs!”

As for Mrs. Miras, Mrs. Parnell merely snickered under her breath, “of course she’s a Hobbit.”

As she turned to leave on one of the very high heels of her black suede boots, Danielle felt the familiar joy of superiority swelling up insider her. Wait until this load of costumed circus freaks and their drooling fool husbands see what I’ll be wearing to the formal tonight, she mused, thinking of the exquisite black gown hanging in her closet at home. Thank God there’ll be alcohol there to drown these women’s sorrows.

Back in the clubhouse it was Rebecca Ross who gave voice to what all the mothers were feeling. “Just once I’d like to see that imperious snob get taken down a peg or two,” she seethed. No one disagreed.

With Maria at the party, her other two kids off trick-or-treating and her husband still at work, Danielle Parnell could share some time with the person in the world she loved the most – herself. Stepping from the lion-clawed tub in the colossal marble sanctuary that was her private bathroom, Mrs. Parnell wrapped her heavenly body in large terry cloth towel before slipping into a silk robe. Smiling into her mirror as she prepared to apply her make-up, and with the impact she’d make at the Halloween Formal foremost in her mind, Danielle whispered, “you are indeed the fairest of them all.”

To improve upon her own perfection, Mrs. Parnell expertly applied false eye lashes and otherwise exquisitely made up her beautiful face. Her ruby red lips, not overdone but sexy nonetheless, and her tasteful eyeliner, called out in more stark relief than usual her emerald green eyes and perfectly formed and immaculate white teeth. She looked the perfect cross between Keri Russell and Miranda Kerr.

With her make-up and hair complete, the latter in an updo to lend her even more sophistication, Mrs. Parnell smiled devilishly as she began to get “dressed” for the evening. Although she generally wore only the finest lingerie from the likes of Cosa Bella and La Perla, and although no one but she (and if she permitted him, her husband) would ever see it anyway, Danielle had decided that her nod to Halloween would be to don some very naughty, cheap, Frederick’s of Hollywood, “holiday themed” underwear beneath her fabulously expensive designer gown.

Opening the small shopping bag before her, Mrs. Parnell pulled out a matching, sheer, black and orange “spider” thong and garter belt. Slipping the former up her toned legs before it settled on her taut, firm, apple-shaped bottom Danielle delighted in the naughtiness of it all. The translucent orange triangle of fabric that framed her immaculately manicured landing strip, and the spider waistband (really three pencil thin bands of fabric that mimicked a web) that attached it to its whale-tailed back, which in turn bisected her perfect ass, made for a spectacularly sexy vision.

She then put on the black “spider-web” lace garter belt, hung with orange garters, and began to roll the diaphanous, sheer, black thigh highs up her spectacularly well exercised legs. After attaching the stockings, which were topped off by orange lace welts, to the awaiting orange garters, Danielle stepped into a pair of black Christian Louboutin stilettos with 5” high, thin, shiny, silver heels.

Finally, the preening socialite put on the spider web lace adhesive bra that would permit her to push up her 34Cs even more than usual while also letting her wear a backless gown without worry of some fashion faux pas. Although God, genetics and a tireless discipline to fitness had graced the lovely Mrs. Parnell with the pert and perky breasts of a 20 year-old, she did not deem it appropriate ever to go braless. The sexy backless bra, while deliciously scandalous, would even in hiding preserve her modesty beneath her elegant frock.

Before putting on her custom-made gown, but only after sporting hanging diamond earrings, a red carpet worthy diamond necklace and a flawless diamond tennis bracelet – nearly 40 carats in all – Danielle turned to the full length mirror in her cavernous walk-in closet to drink in her favorite site. What she saw in the reflection would have put the makers of Viagra and Cialis out of business. “You’re perfect,” she cooed sexily to herself before, intoxicated by her own beauty, she turned to the side and, bending over at the waist, reached down to the floor and coquettishly said, “excuse me Mr. Hess, I must have dropped something.” Imagine what that hunky Adam Hess, that fool Rebecca Ross’ husband, would actually do if he saw me like this she thought – well he never will – the loser.

With that Danielle proceeded to slip into the floor length wrap-around gown. The bespoke designer dress was tied with a silk-bow behind her supple neck. In the front, the d****d silk plunged down to the crest of her gorgeous breasts. There was no back. The bottom half was essentially a wrap around a skirt that was kept up, and also attached to the front of the dress, by a large diamond encrusted spider brooch that, covering a large pin beneath, sat on Danielle’s left hip and held the dress together. While breathtaking, the dress was also quite “appropriate.” Although the wrap-around in the front went all the way to Mrs. Parnell’s waist, there was a sufficient overlap of fabric to only give a modest view of her legs – to just above the knee – as she walked. Only she would know what was underneath it all – at least so she thought.

Satisfied with the vision of beauty before her, Danielle d****d a black mink stole over her bare shoulders for the brief ride to the clubhouse and walked out to the waiting sedan. She was in heaven – prepared again to leave the normally flaccid husbands of Davidson aching over her splendor while rejoicing in how the attention they would lavish on her would humiliate and degrade their costumed fools of wives.

Had she not been awash in her own egoistic musings, the imperious Mrs. Parnell may have seen the family nanny Alia, along with Danielle’s three kids, trying to waive her down in the driveway. A crying Maria had just informed her brother, sister and nanny that George – Will’s tarantula -- had escaped at the Halloween party. Alia had hoped to tell her boss beforehand about the mishap but now, knowing she couldn’t dare interrupt Mrs. Parnell at the party, she and the Parnell kids would have to mount a discreet rescue mission in secret. With 13 year-old Will as the mission’s master-mind, and after gathering some glass jars, digging up some worms, collecting some small lizards and beetles that Will usually fed to George, and rigging two fishing poles with hooks for the bait, Alia and the kids headed for the club house.

As she stepped out of the town car that had just rolled up to the entry way, Mrs. Parnell prepared to wow the neighborhood as usual. As she walked into the lobby for the second time that day there was a collective gasp from the gathered men who – to her heartfelt delight – couldn’t peel their eyes from her gorgeous form. With a bit more sway in her hips than usual, the elegant Mrs. Danielle Parnell click-clacked her way down the marble hall to the banquet room. As she strutted past the collection of mothers, still in costume, that she had to tolerate earlier in the day, Mrs. Parnell could sense the stench of their jealousy and humiliation – she loved it.

Checking her mink stole, Danielle made her way to the bar for a drink. Despite any number of neighborhood men falling over themselves to off her one, much to the chagrin of their crest fallen wives, Danielle would not give even one of them the time of day. To the contrary, she took the opportunity to look upon them with disdain thinking that it made them lust after her even more. Poor Adam Hess got the worst of it when, in trying his part to get Danielle a drink he lightly grabbed her elbow from behind to get her attention.

“Get your hands off me, Mr. Hess,” she very loudly and publicly chided him, “just because your wife is dressed as an ass doesn’t mean you should behave like one.”

Poor Adam was both embarrassed and cut to the quick and shuffled off to try to explain to his equally humiliated wife Rebecca that it was all a misunderstanding. Danielle loved it.

With her own husband having cancelled due to work, Danielle took a seat at her assigned table for dinner. The banquet hall was well decorated given the prosperity of the community. There were scarecrows and pumpkins aplenty, along with your share of ghosts and skeletons. Orange filters had been installed over the lights to give the room an eerie glow while dry ice machines, blown by heavy industrial fans set at their lowest level, completed the creepy ambiance. In the center of it all, smack in the middle of the dance floor and ultimately surrounded by the well-appointed dinner tables – sat a giant cauldron filled to the brim with water upon which at least a bushel of apples floated gingerly.

Meanwhile, as wine was poured and small talk was exchanged, the Parnell kids and Alia were taking it all in from one of the large open windows looking into the banquet room. With his G.I. Joe Adventure Set night vision goggles, Will had managed to spot George crawling along the dance floor. Thankfully, and in large part due to the low lights and dry ice mist, no one else had yet spied the hairy fellow. The worst part for Will was that as he watched George amble along it was clear the tarantula was headed right toward his mother’s table.

“We’ve got to do something fast or mom will kill us,” implored young Will.

Alia knew he was right. If Mrs. Parnell saw George herself, no matter what happened after that, Alia would be out of a job.

“Okay, let’s bait the hook with a lizard and then see if we can’t cast the line under the table,” said the nanny. “Once George starts eating we’ll be able to pull him out of there and get back to the house – no harm, no foul.”

The Parnell kids did as Alia said and were quickly ready to save George, and themselves, from further peril. They had managed to move to a window directly outside their mother’s table to increase their odds of success. Now it was go time. With as much finesse as he could muster, 13 year old Will reared back with the fishing pole and cast the line through the window. As the weighted line flew floor-ward the small lizard meant as a meal for George came loose from the hook and landed squarely in the cleavage of Nicole Silver. Terrified, the buxom, red-headed “sl*tty police woman” jumped from her chair and in so doing spilled her entire glass of red wine onto Danielle’s lap.

“You fat cow, you’ve ruined my dress,” shouted Mrs. Parnell at the frightened Mrs. Silver. But before Nicole or anyone could respond the glowering Mrs. Parnell saw George running under the table toward her high-heel encased feet. Leaping to those same feet in surprise, the haughty socialite inadvertently intercepted the course of the still flying fish hook. The hook in turn, to what would soon be the delight of all but one person in attendance, snagged onto the clasp beneath the diamond spider brooch that held Mrs. Parnell’s elegant dress together – and through the dress itself. In all the ensuing commotion, neither Danielle nor anyone else had noticed a thing.

“Got him,” shouted Will as felt some tension on the line and prepared to reel his pet into safety.

“Oh my God -- a spider,” shrieked Danielle as she began to beat a path toward the dance floor in fear of the hairy creature.

What happened next would be talked about for years to come. As his mother fled one way, Will Parnell, intent on saving George, pulled back on the fishing pole with all his might. Katherine Wray, who had been sitting right next to Danielle at dinner, through which she endured all of the snob’s sideways looks, saw it first. As the high and mighty Mrs. Parnell, now flustered by her own child’s pet, began her journey to safety she appeared to be jerked forcibly backward from the waist – once, twice and then a third time. As the frightened diva finally appeared to break the grip of whatever restrained her, Katherine heard a small thud and looked down to see the fancy spider brooch that had been at the preening prima donna’s waist fall to the ground.

Danielle heard it too, and seeing the brooch drop to the floor, while almost running over Adam Hess, bent at her waist to pick it up.

“Excuse me Mr. Hess, I must have dropped something,” she stammered awkwardly just as her son, now with Alia, Maria and Anna all helping, tried one more time to reel in the missing George.

With their collective effort outside the window, a giant ripping sound could be heard throughout the banquet hall as the frazzled uber mom, bent over at the waist, at last grasped the now useless brooch – but her efforts were futile. As Danielle’s neighbors watched the elegant designer gown mysteriously unwrap itself from its snooty wearer, Mrs. Katherine Wray eased its journey window-ward by gently untying the silk knot behind Mrs. Parnell’s lovely neck.

Outside the window, Alia and her three charges watched as a large black cloth, along with George who was swept up by the dress, came floating out there way. “We’re outta here kids, grab the spider,” yelled the nanny as they all began the run for home.

Meanwhile back inside you could hear a pin drop – there in front of all her neighbors, bent over in the very position in which she had admired her spectacular body only two short hours before, was the town’s biggest snob – Danielle Parnell -- revealed in a most highly “inappropriate” state. As the howling laughter of their wives snapped Danielle to her feet, Davidson’s men – led by Adam Hess -- collectively groaned at the site of her in her towering 5” heels, shimmering black thigh highs topped off with an orange welt, lacy Halloween colored garter belt, and mouth-watering “spider” thong – what an ass. Her firm abs topped by her perky 34Cs encased in the lacy, backless, spider bra caused a drooling platoon of waiters to drop half the evening’s dinners at once.

Danielle couldn’t think straight. What just happened? Where was her dress? Oh my God, they can see me in this, cheap, naughty underwear. She knew she had to flee and, without a moment’s hesitation, turned to run for the door. What she hadn't counted on was the location of the cauldron which, as she ran smack into its side, caused her to plunge head first into the water.

The slapstick nature of the unfolding events had the neighborhood mothers in stitches. The preening know-it-all and self-appointed queen of the May, Mrs. Danielle Parnell, who had tormented and looked down on them for years, was quickly become a laughing stock. That image was only enhanced as the disgraced alpha female emerged from the giant cauldron. Her once impeccably coiffed hair looked like a wet mop, a false eye-lash had come loose and was stuck to her face at a ridiculous angle, her sexy eye-liner now made her look more like Alice Cooper than Miranda Kerr.

But that paled in comparison to what happened next. Now out of the soup and back on her feet, but frozen in place by humiliation, the once domineering lawyer merely looked down with shock as her lacy spider themed adhesive bra, unstuck by her stumble in the water, fell from her beautiful pert breasts to the dance floor below. There for all to see were the magnificent tits of the town tease – perfect in their size and shape and with nipples made hard by the combination of cold water and abject degradation.

Not one to let a chance like this slip by, and still smarting from Ms. Perfect calling her a fat cow, Nicole Silver grabbed Danielle by the arm thereby snapping the neighborhood snob from her trance. Then with a wry smile on her face, and to the delight of everyone at the formal, Mrs. Silver unclipped the hand-cuffs from the belt of her costume and slapped them on the diamond encrusted wrists of Mrs. Parnell which she had forcibly secured behind Danielle’s back.

“You missy, are under arrest for the crime of arrogance,” Nicole began. “And as with any crime, in order to make things right, you must be punished.”

The neighborhood moms, now almost crying they were laughing so hard, could not believe it. The tipsy Mrs. Silver was about to spank little Ms. Perfect – and no one deserved it more.

“Redden that little ass,” cried Rachel Miras.

“Make it so she can’t sit for a week,” chimed in Katherine Wray.

As she raised her palm for the first strike Nicole Silver saw it, the Frederick’s of Hollywood tag on Danielle’s spider webbed panties. “Oh my God,” she cried out hysterically, “little Miss Fancy Pants buys her undies at Frederick’s of Hollywood – the cheap tramp.”

As the laughter rose to a crescendo, and following the first of what was surely to be a rain of spanks to her oh-so-fit behind, the humiliated Mrs. Parnell made a run for it. Rolling off of Nicole’s lap before, struggling to her feet, Danielle (still handcuffed) headed for the door as fast as her heels could carry her. As she lunged after her prey, all Mrs. Silver caught was the sprinting diva’s thong which, torn from her body, now left her in only her heels and stockings. With cell phones and cameras recording her near naked form for posterity, the once supremely confident Mrs. Danielle Parnell, with her landing strip and rock hard nipples on full display, cried out desperately “please . . . someone cover me.”

It was at that point that Rebecca Ross removed the donkey mask from her own head and jammed it on Danielle’s.

“That’s from me and my husband, you snooty b*tch,” announced Rebecca. “Consider yourself covered.”

The other women went wild. Emboldened by their cheers, Rebecca slapped the defeated Mrs. Parnell on her stunning behind and shouted “who is the ass now?”

Knowing it was her, Danielle sprang from the banquet hall and the last anyone heard from her was her heels quickly click-clacking away down the marble hall.

Great writing again and to keep these stories as stand alones so it appears Mrs. Parnell suffers her humiliation for the first time is perfect. Love your attention to detail particularly in the way she is dressed. To pump out 3 of these in such a short time is remarkable. Look forward to the next installment. You have created a memorable character in our Mrs. Parnell.

Thanks hocman -- the feedback is genuinely appreciated. I feel like I may have posted this one before it was ready for prime time in order to meet a self imposed deadline and apologize for some typos I found as well as some awkward sentence structures. I may release this one again with those errors cleaned up and a slightly more well developed ending so please stay tuned! Thanks again!

WOW amazing story once again loved the themed underwear and the other mothers teaching the snobby b*tch a lesson. Fantastic also to have the snobby b*tch stripped by her own kids trying to save there pal George keep up the great work.

Funny well developed ending! Her end is well developed. Just a personal preference, would like to see the spanking extended or little more detail added, thanks.

Thanks as always Dr. V -- glad you enjoyed it! As I mentioned to hocman, I may clean this one up a bit and reissue it -- apologies for the poor editing. The next installment may see Danielle undone at work. The woman on whom Mrs. Parnell is based has a male law partner who is equally narcissistic. For humor's sake I'm thinking of having them both suffer her standard fate but don't know if it will fly on this forum. We shall see.

Very nice story! Loved the details of clothes and jewelry, I think they are indispensable when one describes such types of women, snooty and vain. But please, a little bit more description of what's going on in poor Danielle's head during the moments of her predicament... would be great to see her downfall from the inside.

As for the story of Mrs Parnell and her partner, that would be awesome. I love tales about some couple's humiliation, especially haughty, rich and narcissistic couples. But actually they are very rare and yours would be refreshing.

Hey Alexandra! Thanks for your kind words and very thoughtful constructive criticism. Understanding how Danielle is feeling as she is literally "stripped" of her superiority will no doubt improve the stories markedly for the reader. It's a great idea that I'll do my best to implement (maybe even in the rewriting of Along Came a Spider). Thanks also for your encouragement on my next idea. The arrogant man in question is actually her law/business partner rather than husband/boyfriend partner but the two of them are even more imperious together than Danielle is alone so I'm hoping I can do their downfall justice!

Along Came a Spider Version 2.0
 

As promised, in an effort to clean up some of the poor editing from the original and in an attempt to incorporate the excellent suggestions of hocman and Alexandra80, below please find a revised draft of Along Came a Spider. Much of it is the same but I hope you enjoy the improvements and additions.

Each of the nicer neighborhoods in Davidson had its own community center and Mrs. Danielle Parnell’s was no different. In fact, the Parnells and the fifty or so other families who lived in Davidson’s nicest neighborhood, each on at least an acre, in homes that started at around 5000 square feet, shared a clubhouse, an Olympic size swimming pool and a lovely dock and boardwalk both of which nestled up to the West River that ran through the community. It was here that parents socialized, children played and dogs ran along the “beach” that the neighborhood association had created specifically for the residents’ enjoyment.

It was also here that Mrs. Danielle Parnell exercised her favorite pastime – looking down her nose at Davidson’s other women while slyly currying the attention of its most affluent men and boys -- their husbands and sons. The 43 year-old beauty particularly enjoyed “catching” one of those men as he stared at her spectacular ass or pert 34C breasts, the former most often accentuated by high heels the latter by a push-up bra under a stylish top, and then castigating him in front of his wife by loudly chiding, “it’s very impolite to stare you know, you should be ashamed of yourself – how inappropriate.”

What she enjoyed most though was the humiliation she knew the wives experienced as she publicly emasculated their husbands. She reveled in how the gaggle of soccer moms, brownie leaders and church volunteers all but disappeared when she cast her spell over their pathetic mates. After all, she was a gorgeous high-powered lawyer and they were . . . well . . . nothing.

On this October day, as she stepped out of her brand new Range Rover Sport, Danielle was taking her daughter Maria to the community center kids’ Halloween Party – a neighborhood staple that was followed in the evening by the annual Halloween Formal. The latter -- also a tradition -- required attendees to either come in black tie or costume. Mrs. Parnell, of course, would opt for the former and planned to wear a spectacular couture gown. Although her two older kids were already out trick-or-treating, the nine year old Maria still loved to participate in the party.

As Danielle led her daughter into the clubhouse lobby, whiplash quickly struck the neck of every man who saw her – followed by a rush of blood from each of their big heads on downward. Her black suede stiletto-heeled knee high boots, over a pair of black leggings that snugly cradled an ass that appeared chiseled from marble, confirmed for them again that Mrs. Parnell was a vision of refined sexuality. On top she wore a tight black turtle-neck sweater that emphasized the swell of her ample bosom but left no doubt as to the tautness of her midsection or the tone of her arms. Over the sweater she wore an incredibly stylish lynx fur vest that came down to just above her waist. Open in front the vest permitted onlookers a view of the oversized D&G buckle that fastened her black leather belt. Although she didn’t acknowledge the men – not a one -- she knew that they couldn’t take their eyes off her and she loved it – so typical, so pathetic. But it was the sleeve grabbing, arm punching and throat clearing of the assembled wives as they tried to regain their drooling husbands’ attention that really made Danielle’s day. She loved how her radiance blinded these foolish men to the existence of their frumpy wives.

Maria meanwhile was dressed as witch. She wore green face paint, a witch’s frock and a jaunty, pointy, black witch’s hat. Of course, she also carried a broom and, being somewhat of a tomboy, had additionally managed to sneak out of the Parnell house with her brother Will’s tarantula – George – hidden in a plastic pumpkin. Her mother, who was petrified of spiders generally and George in particular, knew nothing of her daughter’s hitch hiker. Had she even a whiff of it, Mrs. Parnell would have taken Maria right home and given her a very stern lecture about her inappropriate behavior.

As mother and daughter walked into the main ballroom where the party was getting into full swing, Maria headed off to join her friends. Danielle on the other hand, had no intention of staying. In fact she had already tasked the Parnell family nanny, Alia, with picking up Maria after the party so that Danielle would have ample time alone to prepare for the formal. That said, given the nature of any children’s event, Danielle could not avoid “engaging” with some of the other neighborhood moms, most of who were in costume both for purposes of chaperoning the children’s party and for attending the formal later that evening.

Katherine Wray, the willowy and waifish runner of the neighborhood was dressed as Peter Pan.

“She certainly has the chest of a boy,” Danielle thought to herself, emphasizing her own assets as she smiled falsely at the flat chested Mrs. Wray.

Mrs. Rebecca Ross wore the costume of a wood nymph on her body topped off with a wonderfully done paper mache donkey head on top. The somewhat Rubenesque blonde high school English teacher was costumed as Nick Bottom from Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

“That’s a big ass on that big ass,” Mrs. Parnell chuckled inwardly as, beneath her stylish sunglasses, she rolled her eyes at Rebecca. Although Mrs. Parnell looked down her nose at Davidson’s men and women alike, even she had to admit that Rebecca’s husband, Adam Hess, was a very handsome man. Too bad he’s a chubby chaser she laughed to herself.

Finally, Danielle acknowledged, barely, Mrs. Nicole Silver and PTA President Rachel Miras, the former, a curvy, buxom red head, outfitted in an ill-fitting “sexy police woman’s” costume and the latter as a character from the Lord of the Rings trilogy.

“That Silver woman should be ashamed of herself,” thought Danielle, “stuffing her oversized body into that inappropriate costume. Talk about cops as pigs!”

As for Mrs. Miras, Mrs. Parnell merely snickered under her breath, “of course she’s a Hobbit.”

As she turned to leave on a very high heel of one of her black suede boots, Danielle felt the familiar joy of superiority swelling up insider her. Strutting away from the “lesser” moms she mused, “wait until this load of costumed circus freaks and their drooling fool husbands see what I’ll be wearing to the formal tonight,” all the while thinking of the exquisite black gown hanging in her closet. Thank God there’ll be alcohol there to drown these women’s sorrows.

Back in the clubhouse it was Rebecca Ross who gave voice to what all the mothers were feeling. “Just once I’d like to see that imperious snob get taken down a peg or two,” she seethed. “And I don’t like the way she looks at my husband.” No one disagreed with either sentiment.

With Maria at the party, her other two kids off trick-or-treating and her husband still at work, Danielle Parnell could share some time with the person in the world she loved the most – herself. Stepping from the lion-clawed tub in the colossal marble sanctuary that was her private bathroom, Mrs. Parnell wrapped her heavenly body in large terry cloth towel before slipping into a silk robe. Smiling into her mirror as she prepared to apply her make-up, and with the impact she’d make at the Halloween Formal foremost in her mind, Danielle whispered to herself “you are indeed the fairest of them all.”

To improve upon her own perfection, Mrs. Parnell expertly applied a set of false eye lashes and otherwise exquisitely made up her beautiful face. Her ruby red lips, not overdone but sexy nonetheless, and her tasteful eyeliner, called out in more stark relief than usual her perfectly formed and immaculate white teeth and emerald green eyes. She looked the perfect cross between Keri Russell and Miranda Kerr.

With her make-up and hair complete, the latter in an updo to lend her even more sophistication, Mrs. Parnell smiled devilishly as she began to get “dressed” for the evening. Although she generally wore only the finest lingerie from the likes of Cosa Bella and La Perla, and although no one but she (and if she permitted him, her husband) would ever see it anyway, Danielle had decided that her nod to Halloween would be to don some very naughty, cheap, Frederick’s of Hollywood, “holiday themed” underwear beneath her fabulously expensive designer gown.

Opening the small shopping bag before her, Mrs. Parnell pulled out a matching, sheer, black and orange “spider” thong and garter belt. Slipping the former up her toned legs before it settled on her taut, firm, apple-shaped bottom, Danielle delighted in the naughtiness of it all. The translucent orange triangle of fabric that framed her immaculately manicured landing strip, and the spider waistband (really three pencil thin bands of fabric that mimicked a web) that attached it to its whale-tailed back, which bisected her perfect ass, made for a spectacularly sexy vision.

She then put on the black “spider-web” lace garter belt, hung with orange garters, and began to roll the diaphanous, sheer, black thigh highs up her spectacularly well exercised legs. After attaching the orange lace welt topped stockings to the awaiting orange garters, Danielle stepped into a pair of black Christian Louboutin stilettos with 5” high, thin, shiny, silver heels.

Finally, the preening socialite put on the spider web lace adhesive bra that would permit her to push up her 34Cs even more than usual while also letting her wear a backless gown without worry of some fashion faux pas. Although God, genetics and a tireless discipline to fitness had graced the lovely Mrs. Parnell with the pert and perky breasts of a 20 year-old, she did not deem it appropriate ever to go braless. The sexy backless bra, while deliciously scandalous, would even in hiding preserve her modesty beneath her elegant frock.

Before putting on her custom-made gown, but only after sporting hanging diamond earrings, a red carpet worthy diamond necklace and a flawless diamond tennis bracelet – nearly 40 carats in all – Danielle turned to the full length mirror in her cavernous walk-in closet to drink in her favorite site. What she saw in the reflection would have put the makers of Viagra and Cialis out of business. “You’re perfect,” she cooed sexily to herself before, intoxicated by her own beauty, she turned to the side and, bending over at the waist, reached down to the floor and, fantasizing wantonly about Mrs. Ross’ strapping husband, coquettishly said, “excuse me Mr. Hess, I must have dropped something.” Imagine what that hunky Adam Hess, that fool Ross’ husband, would actually do if he saw me like this she thought – well he never will – the loser.

With that Danielle proceeded to slip into the floor length wrap-around gown. The bespoke designer dress was tied with a silk-bow behind her supple neck. In the front, the hanging silk plunged down to the crest of her gorgeous breasts. There was no back. The bottom portion was essentially a wrap-around skirt kept up, and also attached to the front of the dress, by a large diamond encrusted spider brooch that sat on Danielle’s left hip and held the dress together by way of a clasp hidden underneath. While breathtaking, the dress was also quite “appropriate.” Although the wrap-around in the front went all the way to Mrs. Parnell’s waist, there was a sufficient overlap of fabric to only give a modest view of her legs – to just above the knee – as she walked. Only she would ever know what was underneath it all – or at least so she thought.

Satisfied with the vision of beauty before her, Danielle d****d a black mink stole over her fit bare shoulders for the brief ride to the clubhouse and walked out to the waiting sedan. She was in heaven – prepared again to leave the normally flaccid husbands of Davidson aching over her splendor while rejoicing in how the attention they would lavish on her would humiliate and degrade their costumed fools of wives.

Had she not been awash in her own egoistic daydream, the imperious Mrs. Parnell may have seen the family nanny Alia, along with Danielle’s three kids, trying to waive her down in the driveway. A crying Maria had just informed her brother, sister and nanny that George – Will’s tarantula -- had escaped at the Halloween party. Alia had hoped to tell her boss beforehand about the mishap but now, knowing she didn’t dare interrupt Mrs. Parnell at the party, she and the Parnell kids would need to mount a rescue mission in secret. With 13 year-old Will as the mission’s master-mind, and after gathering some glass jars, digging up some worms and collecting some small lizards and beetles that Will usually fed to George, the kids and Alia rigged two fishing poles with hooks and headed for the club house.

Stepping from the town car that had just rolled up to the clubhouse entry way, Mrs. Parnell prepared to wow the neighborhood as usual. Walking into the lobby for the second time that day, Danielle drank in the collective gasp from the gathered men who – to her heartfelt delight – couldn’t peel their eyes from her gorgeous form. With a bit more sway in her hips than usual, the elegant Mrs. Danielle Parnell click-clacked her way down the marble hallway to the banquet room. As she strutted past the collection of mothers that she had tolerated earlier in the day – each of whom was still in costume -- Mrs. Parnell could sense the “stench” of their jealousy and humiliation – she loved it. For their part, the neighborhood’s other women stared daggers at the preening narcissist.

“Oh . . . . I simply loathe that snob,” seethed Rebecca Ross.

Mrs. Silver, who had already downed more than a few cocktails, offered a less guarded assessment. “I’d like to put that little show-off over my knee and spank that bottom she so loves to wiggle in front of our husbands. That would show her a thing or two.”

“I would sure love to see that,” smiled Rachel Miras.

“Me too,” said Mrs. Wray and Mrs. Ross in chorus, as each of them thought to herself about what a hysterical scene that would be. Too bad it would never happen. Or would it?

Checking her mink stole with a hostess, Danielle made her way to the bar for a drink. Despite any number of neighborhood men falling over themselves to offer her one, much to the chagrin of their crest fallen wives, Danielle would not give even one of them the time of day. To the contrary, she took the opportunity to sneer at them with disdain believing it made them lust after her even more – pathetic oafs. Poor Adam Hess got the worst of it when, in trying his part to get Danielle a drink, he lightly grabbed her elbow from behind to get her attention.

“Get your hands off me, Mr. Hess,” she very loudly and publicly chided him, “just because your wife is dressed as an ass doesn't mean you should behave like one.”

Poor Adam was both embarrassed and cut to the quick as he shuffled off to try to explain to his equally humiliated wife Rebecca that it was all a misunderstanding. Rebecca, who with the donkey head still in place was being ridiculed roundly by guests, was steaming. Danielle on the other hand loved it all – collectively shaming that “overstuffed” Ross and her handsome but half-witted husband had been the highlight of her night so far.

With her own husband having cancelled due to work, Mrs. Parnell took a seat at her assigned table for dinner. That she was seated with the boyish Mrs. Wray and the already intoxicated Nicole Silver only cemented in her mind how much more desirable she was than this group of desperate haus fraus. Their two husbands, Mr. and Mrs. Miras, Rebecca Ross and Adam Hess rounded out the group of nine at Danielle’s table. To further exert her “dominance” over Rebecca, Danielle took a seat right next to Mr. Hess.

The banquet hall was well decorated given the prosperity of the community. There were scarecrows and pumpkins aplenty, along with your share of ghosts and skeletons. Orange filters had been installed over the lights to give the room an eerie glow while dry ice machines, blown by heavy industrial fans set at their lowest level, completed the creepy ambiance. In the center of it all, smack in the middle of the dance floor and ultimately surrounded by the well-appointed dinner tables – sat a giant cast iron cauldron filled to the brim with water upon which at least a bushel of apples floated gingerly.

As wine was poured and small talk was exchanged in the clubhouse, the Parnell kids and Alia were taking it all in from one of the large open windows looking into the banquet room. With his G.I. Joe Adventure Set night vision goggles, Will had managed to spot George crawling along the dance floor. Thankfully, and in large part due to the low lights and dry ice mist, no one else had yet spied the hairy fellow. Unfortunately for Will, as he watched George amble along it was clear that the tarantula was headed right toward his own mother’s table.

“We've got to do something fast or mom will kill us,” implored Will.

Alia knew he was right. If Mrs. Parnell saw George herself, no matter the explanation young Maria might offer, Alia would be out of a job.

“Okay, let’s bait a hook with a lizard and then see if we can’t cast the line under the table,” said the nanny. “Once George starts eating we’ll be able to pull him out of there and get back to the house – no harm, no foul.”

The Parnell kids did as Alia said and were quickly ready to save George, and themselves, from further peril. They had managed to move to a window directly outside their mom’s table to increase their odds of success. Now it was go time. With as much finesse as he could muster, 13 year old Will reared back with the fishing pole and cast the line through the window. As the weighted line flew floor-ward the small lizard meant as a meal for George unexpectedly came loose from the hook and landed squarely in the cleavage of the now completely tipsy Nicole Silver. Shocked by the reptilian visitor perched between her rather sizeable breasts, the booby, red-headed “sl*tty police woman” jumped from her chair with a twofold effect. First and foremost, her drunken attempt to dislodge the lizard caused the knot at the base of her police “uniform shirt” to come undone thereby unleashing her bare 36Ds. Second, she managed to spill her entire glass of red wine onto Danielle’s lap.

“You fat cow, you’ve ruined my dress,” shouted Mrs. Parnell at Mrs. Silver, as the latter attempted to retie her shirt. “And cover yourself! Perhaps if you wore clothes that fit . . . and a bra . . . you wouldn't end up in such a shameful situation . . . it’s so inappropriate.”

But before Nicole or anyone could respond, the glowering Mrs. Parnell saw George running under the table right at her fashionable Louboutin shoes. Leaping almost out of those shoes in surprise, the haughty socialite inadvertently intercepted the course of the still flying fish hook. The hook in turn, to what would soon be the delight of all but one person in attendance, snagged onto the clasp beneath the brooch that held Mrs. Parnell’s elegant dress together – and through the dress itself – a fact that went unnoticed by anyone in the sudden commotion of the moment.

While that commotion continued inside the banquet hall, it appeared (falsely as it turned out) that outside success was at hand.

“Got him,” shouted Will as he felt some tension on the line and prepared to reel in what he thought was his pet to safety. From their slightly changed vantage point outside the window, the kids and Alia no longer had a line of sight into the goings on inside. Believing they had George on the line, all that remained was to pull him to safety.

Back inside, Danielle’s attention had turned completely from the now redressed Nicole Silver to the creature about to climb onto her shoe.

“Get it away from me,” Mrs. Parnell shrieked to no one in particular as she began to beat a path toward the dance floor in fear of the hairy creature.

The other women at her table took no small amount of joy from Ms. Perfect’s discomfort. At that point, they were satisfied that the embarrassment Mrs. Parnell no doubt felt about her momentary loss of control would be the full extent of the diva’s comeuppance. Little did they know what was about to transpire. What happened next would be talked about in Davidson for years to come.

As his mother fled one way, Will Parnell, intent on saving George, pulled back on the fishing pole with all his might – nothing.

“George must be stuck,” Will thought and again gave a mighty tug – still the spider didn’t budge. Again he pulled with all his strength.

Meanwhile, inside the banquet hall, Katherine Wray, who had been sitting right across from Danielle at dinner, enduring the snob’s withering sideways looks and endless toying with Rebecca’s husband, noticed something odd. As the high and mighty Mrs. Parnell, now flustered by the wayward arachnid, attempted to run to safety, she appeared three times to be jerked suddenly backward from the waist by some invisible force. While watching the terrified socialite try again to escape – this time with somewhat more success, Katherine heard a small thud and looked down to see the fancy spider brooch that had been at the preening prima donna’s waist fall to the ground.

Danielle heard it too, and seeing her brooch drop to the floor, while first bumping squarely into Adam Hess, bent at her waist to pick it up.

Mimicking the very line she had sexily cooed at her near naked reflection hours earlier, but this time in a panicked tone, the disoriented Mrs. Parnell stammered awkwardly “excuse me Mr. Hess, I . . . I must have . . . dropped something.”

The moment those words left Danielle’s lips, and while the suddenly more confident Mr. Hess gazed at her evening gown encased posterior poised enticingly from her bending at the waist, young Will, now with Alia, Maria and Anna all helping, tried one more time to reel in the missing George.

With the four of them now pulling mightily on the fishing pole, a giant ripping sound could be heard throughout the banquet hall. The frazzled former uber mom, bent over at the waist and unsure what was happening, at last grasped the now useless brooch – but her efforts were futile. As Danielle’s neighbors watched her elegant designer gown mysteriously unwrap itself from its snooty wearer, Mrs. Katherine Wray eased its journey window-ward by gently untying the silk knot behind Mrs. Parnell’s lovely neck.

Outside the window, Alia and her three charges watched as a large black cloth, along with George who was swept up by the dress, came floating out there way.

“Looks like we also grabbed a table cloth,” surmised Alia. No wonder it was so hard to pull George out of there, she thought.

“Grab the spider kids, we’re out of here,” yelled the nanny finally as they all began the run for home.

Meanwhile back inside you could hear a pin drop – there in front of all her neighbors, bent over in the very position in which she had admired her spectacular body only two short hours before, was the town’s biggest snob – Danielle Parnell -- revealed in a most highly “inappropriate” state. As the howling laughter of their wives snapped Danielle to her feet, Davidson’s men – led by Adam Hess -- collectively groaned at the site of her in her towering 5” heels, shimmering black thigh highs topped off with an orange welt, lacy Halloween colored garter belt, and mouth-watering “spider” thong – what an ass. Her firm abs topped by her perky 34Cs encased in the lacy, backless, spider bra caused a drooling platoon of waiters to drop half the evening’s dinners at once.

Danielle couldn’t think straight. What just happened to me? Where is my beautiful dress? Oh my God, they can see me in this, cheap, sl*tty underwear. Time seemed to slow to a crawl for the ordinarily confident Mrs. Parnell as she gazed out into the faces of the women and men she so mocked, so teased, so despised, and so looked down upon. They’re complete losers she tried to tell herself – all of them. But the chorus of guffaws Danielle heard, the hysterically laughing women that she saw pointing at her – at her – confirmed in her mind that something had gone horribly wrong. As her brain tried to process the humiliation welling up inside her, Mrs. Parnell’s body telegraphed for all to see her acute embarrassment and shame. Her hands were flying back and forth between her thong covered ass and barely concealed landing strip trying to prevent these commoners from seeing her fabulous but private treasures. Her eyes meanwhile were the size of saucers and her mouth was hanging open in disbelief.

She knew she had to flee and, without another moment’s hesitation, turned to run for the door. What she hadn't counted on was the location of the cauldron which, as she ran smack into its side, caused her to plunge head first into the water.

The slapstick nature of the unfolding events had the neighborhood mothers in stitches. The preening know-it-all and self-appointed queen of the May, Mrs. Danielle Parnell, who had tormented and looked down on them for years, was quickly become a laughing stock. That image was only enhanced as the disgraced alpha female emerged from the giant cauldron. Her once impeccably coiffed hair looked like a wet mop, a false eye-lash had come loose and was stuck to her face at a ridiculous angle, her sexy eye-liner now made her look more like Alice Cooper than Miranda Kerr. What’s more – and to the particular delight of those who had to endure her pomposity through dinner – her usually smug visage had been replaced by a daffy, empty stare.

“She’s not so perfect now, is she,” smirked Rebecca to herself.

But everything that had come so far paled in comparison to what happened next. Out of the soup and back on her feet, but frozen in place by her further humiliation, the once domineering lawyer merely looked down with shock as her lacy spider themed adhesive bra, unstuck by her stumble in the water, fell with a wet splat from her beautiful pert breasts to the dance floor below. There for all to see were the magnificent tits of the town tease – perfect in their size and shape and with nipples made hard by the combination of cold water and abject degradation. As her costumed neighbors roared with laughter the shell-shocked Mrs. Parnell was too astonished even to attempt to cover her glorious boobs.

Rejoicing in karmic justice but smarting from little Ms. Perfect calling her a fat cow, Nicole Silver thought back to her earlier statement about teaching Mrs. Parnell a lesson. Inspired by that memory, the vengeful Mrs. Silver grabbed Danielle by the arm thereby snapping the neighborhood snob from her trance. Then with a wry smile on her face, and to the delight of everyone at the formal, Nicole unclipped the hand-cuffs from the belt of her costume and slapped them on the diamond encrusted wrists of Mrs. Parnell which she had forcibly secured behind Danielle’s back, and forcibly bent the disgraced beauty queen over her knee.

Remembering Danielle’s words to her when her own top flew open, Nicole mockingly pronounced “why Mrs. Parnell -- cover yourself! Perhaps if you wore clothes that fit . . . and a bra . . . you wouldn’t end up in such a shameful situation . . . it’s so inappropriate.” As the men tried to hide their excitement, the women cheered on their new hero!

Nicole, now truly getting into character, authoritatively continued, “you missy, are under arrest for the crime of extreme arrogance. And as with any crime, in order to make things right, you must be punished.”

The neighborhood moms, now almost crying they were laughing so hard, could not believe it. The tipsy Mrs. Silver was about to spank little Ms. Perfect – and no one deserved it more.

As she raised her palm for the first strike Nicole Silver saw it, the Frederick’s of Hollywood tag on Danielle’s spider webbed panties. “Oh my God,” she cried out hysterically, “little Miss Fancy Pants buys her undies at Frederick’s of Hollywood – the cheap tramp.”

As the laughter rose to a crescendo, Danielle in a fit of pique cried out, “I do not. I mean . . . just this once . . . I . . . I . . . no one was supposed to see these. STOP LOOKING AT ME!!”

“I think someone needs an attitude adjustment,” interrupted Nicole. “Don’t you agree girls?”

“Redden that little ass,” cried Rachel Miras.

“Make it so she can’t sit for a week,” chimed in Katherine Wray.

With that the spanking began, as Nicole rained down swat after sweet swat on Mrs. Parnell’s perfectly formed posterior. How can this be happening to me, thought the now half-delusional former fashionista? I’m so beautiful . . . and sexy . . . and powerful. Their husbands all want me . . . don’t they? And as a kernel of doubt about her own perfection crept into her mind for the first time ever, and her oh-so-fit behind began to glow a rosy red, the humiliated Mrs. Parnell made a run for it.

Rolling off of Nicole’s lap and struggling to her feet, Danielle -- still handcuffed and with her magnificent breast jutting out in front of her -- headed for the door as fast as her heels could carry her. But Nicole wasn’t done yet. Alas, as she lunged after her prey, all Mrs. Silver caught was the sprinting diva’s thong which, torn from her body, now left her in only her heels and stockings. With cell phones and cameras recording her near naked form for posterity, the once supremely confident Mrs. Danielle Parnell, with her landing strip and rock hard nipples on full display, and riddled with self-doubt, cried out desperately “please . . . someone . . . cover me.”

It was at that point that Rebecca Ross removed the donkey head from her shoulders and jammed it on top of Danielle’s disheveled head.

“That’s from me and my husband, you snooty b*tch,” announced Rebecca. “Consider yourself covered. And if you ever as much as look at my man again, you won’t have even a stitch left on when I’m finished with you.”

The other women went wild as the once perfect Mrs. Danielle Parnell, now stripped to her heels and hose, stood idiotically in front of them with a donkey head effectively in place of her own. Emboldened by their cheers, Rebecca slapped the defeated Mrs. Parnell on her red but still stunning behind and demanded to know “who is the ass now honey?”
Knowing it was she, the completely undone Danielle Parnell, barely loud enough for her assembled neighbors to hear, whispered from under the most unfashionable item she had eve worn, “I am ma’am, I’m the ass and I’m a very naughty little girl.”

And with that the destroyed Mrs. Parnell went sprinting from the banquet room to the raucous laughter of her entire neighborhood. The last anyone heard of the disgraced diva was her heels quickly click-clacking away down the marble hall.

Good story, thanks.

I suggest to increase humiliation and join to story one more person. This person is bully boy or bully girl, who is one of the clasmates of Danielle children and who wants to be a leader in the classroom. But bully fears high-powered lawyer. Danielle told him (her) if you touch my kids I put you in jail....But once in bully head coming a good thought how humiliate this snooty family Danielle and her glamour daughter or dandy son. How him get to undress them, your absolute fantasy. Only been very useful if from Danielle removed also all her jewelry and bully rushed off on her new Range Rover Sport. :)

Ok not quite sure where that last post was going, anyway great update on this story. Thank you for extending the spanking and adding more detail. Love the end with mask and Mrs. Parnell saying yes ma'am and I'm a naughty girl. Perfect. You've captured the mood of the crowd perfectly. Look forward to the continued adventures of Mrs. Parnell.

Undressed for Success
 

SmythKnight was one of the most prestigious law firms in the United States and its glass encased office complex at the foot of Capitol Hill stood as a powerful testament to that status – the firm was a legal leviathan. On this sunny August day, a group of some fifty very high powered partners in the firm, along with their assistants and a smattering of junior associates and staff, were waiting impatiently – if not in some small amount of fear -- in the largest of the many conference rooms in SmythKnight’s office. They were waiting for the law firm’s managing partner – Mrs. Danielle Parnell. They were impatient because, as usual, she was late. They were fearful because she could be ruthless.

The quick paced staccato rhythm of high heels on a marble floor signaled to the room full of attorneys and others that Danielle Parnell, Esq. was near. Looking through the sheer glass wall that separated the conference room from SmythKnight’s opulent lobby they could see their “boss” approaching – and what an approach it was.
Strutting authoritatively past them as she made her way to the conference room door, Mrs. Parnell looked every inch the domineering alpha female that she was. Atop her 4.5” Prada black leather heels that heralded her arrival was a set of fantastically toned athlete’s legs covered from just below the knee on up by a tight, fashionable, pin-striped pencil skirt that encased the object of desire of every man who set eyes on her – a spectacularly formed ass.

On top, the sexy uber lawyer was wearing a sleeveless, perfectly pressed, crisp white cotton oxford shirt that tightly hugged the contours of her pert 34C breasts and flawless midsection and displayed her tan, well exercised arms for all to see – just as she intended. A white necklace of pearls adorned her supple neck and a simple but exquisite watch wrapped her left wrist. Hear beautiful face, made even more stunning by the proper yet alluring gold rimmed glasses encircling her emerald green eyes, was crowned perfectly by her luxurious brown mane, touched by sunlit highlights, and tied up in a very professional looking bun.

Catching her reflection in the glass door as she entered the room, Mrs. Parnell took account of her own stunning beauty – perfect she thought. She smiled inwardly as she anticipated the lust that the men in the room – nominally her “partners” but in her view really just a bunch of feckless losers -- must already be feeling. Danielle loved the effect she had on men. That her beauty rendered them fools and sycophants provided her with almost as much pleasure as did -- when she would catch them staring at her wantonly – the humiliation she would heap upon them by loudly scolding, “eyes up here Johnson . . . you’re lucky I don’t fire you this minute,” or “exactly what are you looking at Mr. Thomas – perhaps it’s time you review our harassment policy -- again.”

Dominating the weak men of SmythKnight brought Danielle untold pleasure – particularly if she could exercise her authority over them in front of their wives, girlfriends or daughters who she reveled in humiliating both by stealing the attention of their men and then emasculating those men while they watched helplessly. Perhaps if they took better care of themselves or made something of their lives their husbands’ heads wouldn’t be so easily turned she thought to herself.

But it wasn’t only the men of SmtyhKnight who Danielle relished belittling. She likewise enjoyed intimidating the firm’s female partners, associates and staff who she taunted and mocked regularly – particularly her beleaguered assistant, Linda Bertrand, a slightly portly but otherwise attractive brunette some ten years younger than the 43 year old Mrs. Parnell. And today was no different.

Walking imperiously into the conference room, Danielle’s first point of business was loudly to reprimand her already quaking assistant.

“Well Ms. Bertrand, it appears as though someone got dressed in the dark again today. No matter – no one is looking at you anyway.” Danielle laughed to herself “because they’re all too busy looking at me – as they should be.”

“As all of you know,” Mrs. Parnell continued, “tomorrow is ‘Take Your Kids to Work Day’ here at SmythKnight. As usual, the children will be separated into different age groups and have a chance to shadow lawyers and staff, share a group lunch and otherwise participate in the day’s programs. That will all be followed by our annual firm reception in the atrium where your spouses and significant others can join you, your children and the rest of us for what this year will be dinner and a fashion show where some of SmythKnight’s very own will model the latest in fashionable, appropriate, professional attire.”

“Excuse me Danielle,” asked Mrs. Karen Manley timidly, hoping to curry some favor with the firm’s imperious leader, “but who from the firm will be modelling the clothes.”

“Certainly not you Karen,” Danielle condescended to her law partner. “In fact, I’m hoping that Ms. Bertrand, Ms. Butcher and you will use the fashion show as an opportunity to learn something – now get back to work.”

With that, the haughty Mrs. Danielle Parnell stood up and left the meeting. Although the men in the room were too busy following Danielle’s perfect posterior as it tightly swayed its way down the hall, Karen Manley wasted no time in approaching Mrs. Lauren Butcher.

“Oh I simply can’t abide that woman,” fumed Mrs. Manley. “Who does she think she is anyway? We’re her partners not her house staff – ‘certainly not you Karen’ – just once I’d like her to be on the receiving end.”

Mrs. Lauren Butcher, another of SmythKnight’s female partners, was equally infuriated. The nearly six foot blonde, who had always been conscious of her height, and as a result ended up looking as if she was slightly slouched over, could barely conceal her contempt for the preening Mrs. Parnell.

“No kidding. I know what she calls me behind my back – “lurch,” “prairie hair” – it makes me want to slap that smug grin right off her perfectly made up face. But I need this job and so do you and as long as the partnership agreement permits her to fire us at will – until she either retires or quits -- there is nothing we can do.”

Overhearing their conversation, and having finally been pushed too far by her boss’ incessant derision, Ms. Linda Bertrand interrupted them with a conspiratorial, “maybe this time there is!”

The next morning, having showered, dried her hair and perfectly applied her make-up, Mrs. Danielle Parnell slipped into the tiniest navy blue, sheer, silk Cosabella thong, a matching push-up bra and 4.5” blue leather Manolo Blahnik heels. Walking from her monumental marble bathroom into an equally cavernous dressing area, the self-obsessed mother of three could not help but drink in her own vision in the mirror. Placing her hand over her mouth in mock embarrassment, the egoistic lawyer fantasized out loud, “why Mr. Sarano, you’ve caught me indisposed.” With her standard smug look returning to her face, and chiding herself inwardly for her impetuousness, Danielle mockingly laughed “you wish.”

Jerry Sarano was also a partner at SmythKnight. The almost 50 year old perennially fit triathlete had the body of a man thirty years younger. As intelligent as he was trim, Sarano was also an impeccable dresser routinely sporting only the most cutting edge, tight-fitting European suits and accessories. Still single, he was rumored at SmythKnight to be both a ladies man and extraordinarily well-endowed. Unfortunately, not unlike the firm’s leader, Mr. Sarano was all too aware of his physical gifts, both actual and rumored. He looked down upon all those around him save for Danielle to whom he obsequiously kowtowed. Sarano was the closest thing to a friend that Mrs. Parnell had at the office and it was with him that she would share her most withering comments about the likes of Lauren “Lurch” Butcher and others. Together they privately mocked just about everyone else at the firm making fun of their “lack of fitness,” “terrible fashion sense,” “slovenly demeanor,” “awful haircuts” and “inferior intelligence.” The two were almost equally loathed and although not true, there was an unspoken belief that they were having an affair.

Having had her fun for the morning, Danielle dressed herself in a black Prada pant suit, the slacks fitting her perfect ass like a glove and the bolero jacket, worn with nothing but her push-up bra underneath, tightly encasing her spectacular 34C breasts and otherwise toned upper body. She planned to spend the workday in this outfit before changing – multiple times – into the outfits she would be modelling at the evening’s fashion show, all of which her witless secretary, Linda Bertrand, was to pick up at the tailors’ and deliver to her office. Mrs. Parnell, of course, would be the only woman modelling that evening. At her request, Mr. Jerry Sarano would be modelling for the men. Having prepared herself for the day, Danielle headed into the office to welcome the offspring of SmythKnight’s finest.

Meanwhile, having picked up her boss’ many outfits from the tailors’, Linda Bertrand was ready to get “to work.” Aware that Danielle was welcoming the kids in a firm conference room on another floor, Ms. Bertrand knew she had less than an hour before her boss returned. Walking into the opulent office of “Mrs. Danielle Parnell, Esquire,” Linda marched past the six seat private conference table and the large mahogany desk and into Danielle’s private anteroom which, with its own hardwood floors, large Oriental rug, private bath, wardrobe, large leather couch, floor to ceiling bookshelves and fully stocked bar was as much a clubby living room as anything else. The room was usually locked but having instructed Linda to deliver her clothes there, Danielle had left it open.

On one wall, framed by mahogany bookshelves on either side, hung a full length mirror that her snobby boss no doubt used to admire herself. It was in this room that Danielle would be changing from one outfit to another for the evening’s show. As Linda fished the small scissors from her pocket and pulled the plastic off the cocktail dress labeled “grand finale” she thought to herself, “and what a show it’s going to be.”

While Mrs. Parnell’s secretary continued to make her “alterations,” including just for fun weakening all the seams on the fancy three piece suit and shirt that she still needed to deliver to Mr. Jerry Sarano’s office, Linda spied what looked like a camera hidden in the bookshelf facing the mirror.

“Oh no,” she panicked, “my crazy boss must keep this room monitored . . . I’m going to get caught for sure, and fired.”

Thinking quickly, Linda hurried out to Danielle’s main office and dialed up SmythKnight’s IT manager, Catherine Webb. Like Linda, Mrs. Webb had many times suffered the wrath of the firm’s tyrannical managing partner and it was that fact that guided what she did next. Although logic demanded that Catherine immediately report Linda Bertrand to SmythKnight’s security team for not only snooping around the managing partner’s office but for asking Catherine to delete any record of it, her sympathy for Linda’s daily plight dictated otherwise. First, Catherine eased Linda’s anxiety by assuring her that the camera was not recording anything while Linda was in the room because it was only activated when Danielle logged into the system and she hadn’t yet been to her office. Second, and without telling Linda or anyone else, Catherine used her authority as network administrator to remotely take over control of the camera.

“Who knows,” she thought to herself, “maybe I can catch Miss High and Mighty drinking at the office -- or breaking one of her many rules and regulations regarding ‘appropriateness’ -- and leverage it into a few extra bucks.” Although she knew she’d never really do such a thing, the mere idea of spying on the arrogant Mrs. Parnell provided Catherine with no small amount of satisfaction.

With that, “Take Your Kids to Work Day” marched on as planned. Over a hundred children, to learn what their moms and dads did all day, followed lawyers and staff members through their paces, attended a fun “kids only” lunch, listened to any number of professionals drone on about their jobs and finally took part in a kids’ mock trial where they got to play the parts of lawyers, judges, witnesses and bailiffs. As 5:00 PM finally rolled around, each kid was joined by their parent who worked at SmythKnight as well as, in some cases, his or her other parent who was also invited by the firm to the dinner and fashion show.

In the meantime, Mrs. Danielle Parnell was busy changing into her first outfit of the evening. Locking the door to her anteroom from the inside she slipped out of her Prada pant suit and, facing the mirror, indulged in her favorite pastime – taking in her own glorious body. She loved that she was changing at the office -- that as her dumpy female colleagues and the haus frau wives of SmythKnight’s male population stuffed their fat faces with whatever rubber chicken was being served at the dinner, she was preparing, with her beauty, intelligence and authority, to render them invisible by stealing the attention of all men in attendance.

Catherine Webb cursed her luck. Not having kids, she had no plans to stay for the dinner and fashion show. Although the finale of the show was to be preceded by a short film that was made of the day’s activities, one of Catherine’s assistants would take care of it thereby permitting the over-worked Mrs. Webb to beat an early retreat from work. That said, she had forgotten her keys again and needed to get back to her office to retrieve them.

Having donned her first outfit, Danielle preceded to the dais that had been set up in SmythKnight’s large glass atrium, to welcome everyone to the show and to explain that she would be modelling three different outfits for the evening, including the lovely A-line dress she had on now, a pinstripe skirt-suit and, for the finale, a little black cocktail dress that was “work appropriate” to show how professional women could maintain poise and class after hours as well. While she changed, Mr. Jerry Sarano would be showing a collection of watches, brief cases and other accessories for men.

Sitting next to Danielle on the dais were her own three kids – Will, Anna and Maria. Having been dropped off earlier in the day, the three had taken in part in the program along with everyone else’s children. Also on stage, and sitting on the other side of Mrs. Parnell, was Jerry Sarano. A podium separated the five of them on one side from a small group of the firm’s lawyers and staff on the other. Among that group sat Karen Manley, Lauren Butcher and Linda Bertrand. In the audience sat the four hundred or so people who made up the lawyers and staff of SmythKnight and their families.

With soft music playing, and knowing that every man and boy was now transfixed by her beauty, Mrs. Danielle Parnell began her long walk down the runway that extended from the dais. She could feel the attention she was getting from the men and loved it. She loved more that despite any effort the other women in the room might make, they were rendered irrelevant by her beauty. As she turned on her 4.5” heels to walk back – and with an extra sway in her hips and a completely false smile on her otherwise beautiful face – she mouthed to Linda, Karen and Lauren – “you should be taking notes.” Amused by her cutting barb, and feeling better than ever, Danielle slipped through the curtain at the back of the stage and made her way to her office to change.

Grabbing the forgotten keys from her desk, Catherine Webb paused for a brief second.

“I wonder if she’s in there,” Catherine thought, “what the heck . . . let’s take a look.”

With that Mrs. Webb fired up her computer and double-clicked on the file labeled “DMPPO” – Danielle Marie Parnell Private Office. In an instant, Catherine was looking at a live, high resolution, color picture of Mrs. Parnell’s anteroom – but no one was there. “Oh well,” she thought, “maybe next time.” But as she was about to disconnect and head home she saw, and heard, someone come into the room. Having not tried the camera before, Catherine was surprised that it had audio capability. What she saw and heard next was an even bigger surprise.

“You looked perfect out there,” Danielle preened at the mirror. “Those men couldn’t take their eyes off you and their fat wives couldn’t do a thing about it. Wait until the finale – the horny losers won’t even be able to stand up to leave and that assemblage of cows will want to kill themselves.”

With those words uttered, the haughty prima donna slipped out of her A-line dress and proceeded to pose in front of the mirror in her tiny blue thong, sheer push up bra and towering heels. Turning to the side she bent over at the waist and drank in the site of her own flawless ass. Standing again she cupped her barely bra encased breasts together and then, releasing them, blew herself a kiss.

Catherine was both dumbfounded and thrilled. Dumbfounded that the little tease – who walked around as the standard bearer for “appropriateness” – would behave like this at the office and thrilled that she had it recorded. She decided at that point to tell her assistant to take off for the night; Catherine would prepare the short film for the fashion show finale on her own.

Having changed into her pinstripe power suit, not dissimilar to the one she had worn to work the previous day, Mrs. Parnell returned to the stage again as Jerry Sarano stood at the podium to announce her arrival.

“Wearing what can only be described as the perfect power suit,” the obsequious Sarano began, “I present to you our partner, friend, leader and hallmark of authority, Mrs. Danielle Parnell.”

Once again, to the sound of hearty applause from the men and tepid, forced clapping from the women, Danielle strutted down the runway. As she surveyed the crowd she could tell that every male there was beside himself with desire.

“What a bunch of pathetic fools,” she thought to herself, “no wonder they’re so easily manipulated. And the women – they should just give it up.”

After turning at the end of the runway, Danielle sashayed back towards the podium and again slipped through the curtain to change into her final outfit of the night – her show stopper, the LBD that would have them all drooling. As the self-satisfied Mrs. Parnell disappeared through the curtain, Karen Manley could barely contain her rage.

“Can you believe that woman – she is clearly just here to show off. She prances up and down that runway smiling at our husbands and sons while sneering at all of us. She really needs to be taken down a peg or two.”

“I can’t stand her,” chimed in Lauren Butcher. “Always putting us down, humiliating the men with her “that’s highly inappropriate” nonsense. How is it appropriate for her to parade herself in front of everyone anyway? Just because she covers herself in her tight power outfits doesn’t make her any less of a tease. Linda – are you sure this ‘surprise’ of yours is really going to work.”

“I’m pretty certain you’ll love the finale,” smiled Mrs. Linda Bertrand.

Back in her office, Danielle had again locked the door to her anteroom and slipped out of her pinstripe suit. As Catherine Webb continued recording, the narcissistic leader of SmythKnight slipped out of her 4.5” black leather heels and into a pair of 5” black peep toe stilettos with a subtle rhinestone accent where her highly manicured toes appeared. Danielle then proceeded to undo and remove both her bra and thong panties before again posing in front of the mirror. Reaching into a small white bag on her desk labelled Agent Provocateur, Mrs. Parnell pulled out a sexy grey pinstripe thong along with a matching push up bra with a tiny tie where the cups met in the front. After putting the lingerie on she gazed at the mirror lustily.

“Who’s the boss now baby,” she cooed, “tell me, who’s the boss now?”

With that, and drunk with her own self-worth, the Worldwide Managing Partner of SmythKnight pulled on her little black cocktail dress. With a wide strap over each shoulder, and an appropriately high neckline, the Dior frock tightly encased the beautiful lawyer’s ample chest and toned mid-section while exquisitely profiling her incredibly fit arms. At the waist, the dress puffed out in the style of many a similar cocktail skirt and went down to a few inches above Danielle’s knees. After touching up her makeup, blowing out her hair and accessorizing her look with a diamond tennis bracelet, a diamond watch, two carat diamond earrings and a conservative diamond necklace, Mrs. Danielle Parnell took one long last look at her mirror. “I’m the boss baby – and now it’s time to show these losers why.”

As Danielle made her way back to the stage, Jerry Sarano emerged from the men’s room wearing the new three piece suit that he had purchased just for the finale. Despite Danielle’s idiotic assistant delivering it to him an hour later than planned, he loved how good it looked on him and knew the women in the audience would appreciate it as well. Seeing Danielle approaching, the two walked back through the curtain onto the stage together. Jerry took his seat next to Linda Bertrand while Danielle once again strutted down the runway. With a little bit more of a sway in her hips than usual, the glorious lawyer looked like a goddess – and she and the men whose eyes were glued to her loved every second of her march.

Linda Bertrand was worried as Karen Manley and Lauren Butcher glared at her. Karen spoke first, angrily whispering, “I thought you were going to make a fool of her tonight. That’s what you told us. What’s going on?”

Linda was crestfallen, “I don’t know, I weakened the seams – all of them. I thought . . . well . . . I guess it didn’t work.”

Of course not, thought Karen. Little Miss Perfect had outwitted them yet again and was basking in her own glory while she, Lauren and everyone else looked on helplessly. Stepping back up to the podium, Danielle noticed the two women whispering.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Bertrand . . . Mrs. Manley . . . is there a problem,” she scolded them, “do you have something more important to do this evening than focus on our children?” Uncomfortable laughter was spreading through the crowd. For the men looking on, the image of the sexy, sophisticated and domineering Mrs. Parnell shaming her two colleagues was intoxicating. The women in the crowd on the other hand, many who had suffered Danielle’s withering reproaches, sympathized with Linda and Karen. They knew something needed to be done but were too terrified to act.

“Well – do you,” Danielle loudly implored. The two humiliated women sat silently – looking more like chastised children than adult professionals. “I didn’t think so,” finished Danielle.

“And Mrs. Butcher,” Danielle added coldly, loving the opportunity to further humiliate these losers, “please do sit up straight won’t you. We don’t want our children to learn bad habits. Now if the three of you would be so kind as to give me your attention, we could all watch a brief film that our IT department has put together profiling today’s events.”

As Mrs. Parnell took a seat in the folding chair next to her son Will, the lights in the atrium dimmed and a film was projected onto the screen that was lowered onto the stage. With images of SmythKnight’s impressive headquarters filling the screen, Jerry Sarano’s voice was heard extolling the virtues of the firm and describing the “Take Your Kids to Work Day” program. That segued into footage that had been taken that day. Titles such as “The Welcome,” “What We Do,” “Lunch Break,” “Kids in Court” and “A SmythKnight Family Dinner” were followed respectively by pictures of Mrs. Parnell welcoming the kids, staff and lawyers sharing their knowledge, the fun filled lunch, the mock trial exercise and the hundreds of lawyers, staff and children enjoying the dinner that had been served only a short time before.

Finally the title “And Now for a Little (Very Little) Bit of Fashion” popped up on the screen. As the crowd began to laugh, Danielle was immediately annoyed. She had approved the titles herself and the final one was to read, simply, “The Fashion Show.” What had that idiot Bertrand done now she thought to herself? That girl is finished here if she thinks she can embarrass me like this. But the embarrassment for Mrs. Parnell had only just begun. As the film portrayed the firm’s gorgeous managing partner strutting down the runway in her A-line dress, the staid violin soundtrack suddenly faded away and the screen momentarily went blank.

What happened next shocked everyone. As the screen came back to life it once again showed the lovely Mrs. Parnell in her appropriate A-line dress. But now she appeared to be standing in a library of sorts and the camera angle, although filming her from behind, also captured her image from the front via a large mirror into which she appeared to be staring intently. As everyone looked on quizzically, the woman on film – Mrs. Danielle Parnell -- could be heard complementing herself “you looked perfect out there. Those men couldn’t take their eyes off you and their fat wives couldn’t do a thing about it.”

As gasps of shock began to spread, and the anger of the crowd palpably rose, Danielle could sense the daggers being looked her way in the darkness. She had to do something. But before she even processed what her next move might be, the image on screen changed yet again. There on film for all to see, and wearing only her 5” peep toe stilettos, her sexy grey pinstripe thong and a matching push up bra with a tiny tie where the cups meet in the front, was Mrs. Danielle Parnell, Esquire.

“Who’s the boss now baby,” the woman on film cooed wantonly at her reflection, “tell me, who’s the boss now?”

And then, as the image changed a final time to show Danielle facing the mirror as she cupped her barely bra encased breasts together and blew herself a kiss, a voice over, clearly Mrs. Parnell’s, could be heard to say, “I’m the boss baby – and now it’s time to show these losers why.” With that the screen went blank and the lights came up.

The now mortified uber mom, her mouth hanging open in shock, knew she needed to act and to act fast. The women in the crowd had already begun to laugh uproariously loving the fact that the snob who had mocked, degraded and humiliated them for years had finally gotten a taste of her own medicine. Karen Manley and Lauren Butcher each gave Linda Bertrand a big thumbs up thinking this was the surprise she planned.

But this was not Mrs. Parnell’s first rodeo. She didn’t end up where she was by retreating in the face of adversity. In her mind she was still the managing partner of SmythKnight and it was time to reassert her authority as she purposefully began to rise from her seat and head to the podium.

What started next was the beginning of the end of Danielle Parnell, Esquire. Although Alia, the Parnell family nanny, had escorted young Anna and Maria Parnell off the stage before the lights came up, Danielle’s son Will remained rooted in his chair. Unsure of the feelings welling up inside him the poor boy looked catatonic. That said, and unbeknownst to his mother, as he shifted in his chair to watch the film that now had rendered him paralyzed, Will had managed to pin the hem of the puffy skirt of his mom’s cocktail dress between the dead weight of his hip and his folding chair. That fact coupled with Linda Bertrand having snipped most of the threads attaching said skirt to the upper part of Mrs. Parnell’s dress was the predicate for what happened next. As Danielle marched fearlessly to the rostrum at center stage, a loud rip could be heard throughout the Atrium. There for all to see, now live, was the haughty Mrs. Danielle Parnell wearing only her 5” high heels, pin stripe thong and upper half of her once elegant and after hours “work appropriate” cocktail dress.

“Oh my God,” screamed the once imperious lawyer, “my skirt . . . oh my God . . . Will.” But as she turned around to look for her son all she saw was him passing out backwards through the curtain, her skirt clutched tightly in his hand.

“This has gone far enough,” huffed Jerry Sarano, as he took off the jacket of his three piece suit and began heading for Danielle.

“Oh no you don’t” cried Linda Bertrand who, reaching out to grab Jerry caught only the collar of his shirt. But, having herself weakened the suit’s seams earlier, she pulled with all her might and, as the crowd looked on, the arrogant Jerry Sarano was stripped of both his shirt and vest. This was almost too much for the assembled throng to bear. Mr. Perfect, having shaved all of his chest and stomach hair, stood before them wearing only pants, shoes and a tie. Danielle meanwhile, in an effort to flee behind the curtain to safety, was confronted by the six-foot frame of Lauren Butcher who, for the first time in her life, was standing very tall.

“Get out of my way now Lurch,” demanded Mrs. Parnell, unable, even in the most trying circumstances to be anything but rude.

“That’s it you little pipsqueak,” bellowed Lauren, “it’s time somewhat taught you a lesson.”

As Danielle turned to run, Mrs. Butcher caught her by the shoulder straps of her once elegant cocktail dress which, thanks to the handy work of Linda Bertrand, tore away with a two-fold effect. First, it left Danielle in only her thong, bra and heels. Second, it caused the once regal narcissist to fall forward. To break that fall, Danielle grabbed onto the first thing she could reach which, unfortunately for Jerry Sarano, was the beltless waist of his fashionable but seam weakened suit pants. In a scene that would do Vaudeville proud, Danielle managed to tear those pants right off him revealing a neon pink man-thong covering what appeared to be a truly impressive package. But appearances can be deceiving and as Danielle struggled to recover from her fall she grabbed the podium with one hand and the slim waist band of Mr. Sarano’s thong with the other. As his ridiculous underwear slid from his hairless legs, a rolled up sock fell to the floor revealing, even with every hair shaved away, what can only be described as some very, very small equipment. More humiliated than he ever could have imagined, the one-time self-described “Italian Stallion,” now wearing only loafers and a tie, ran red-faced from the stage and was never seen in the halls of SmythKnight again.

Finally back on her feet, Danielle found herself face-to-face with Linda Bertrand.

“Nothing to say, have we,” mocked Linda, who sitting down on the nearest folding chair roughly pulled the stunned Mrs. Parnell over her knee. As the cheers of the gathered women gave her strength, Ms. Bertrand felt liberated.

“You’ve had this coming for a long time you little show-off -- strutting around here in your high heels and tight clothes – teasing the men and humiliating the women. Well now it’s time for a little payback.”

“Spank that tease’s ass,” shouted Karen Manley.

“Strip her first,” screamed Lauren Butcher.

Bending her head down toward her former boss’ ear Linda whispered “should I strip you first Mrs. Parnell?”

“No – please don’t” croaked the defeated Danielle.

“I think that will depend on the answer to a question,” smiled Linda.

“Anything you want,” pleaded the humiliated attorney.

“Who’s the boss now,” asked Linda quietly as she began to spank Mrs. Parnell’s firm ass.

“What did you say” asked Danielle. “I mean . . . me . . . I . . . I am the boss,” she said, only half believing it.

“Wrong answer,” yelled Linda, who then unceremoniously unclipped Danielle’s bra and threw it into the crowd.

“Who’s the boss now,” Linda repeated, spanking Danielle’s bottom more forcefully.

Biting her tongue but knowing any further resistance was futile, Danielle quietly answered, “you’re the boss Linda.”

“I can’t hear you,” shouted Linda, now raining swats down on her former tormenters reddening bottom.

“You’re the boss Linda,” screamed Danielle.

“You’re the boss who,” came Linda Bertrand’s reply.

“You’re the boss Ms. Bertrand ma’am. You’re the boss and I’m nothing . . . nothing but a naughty little tease . . . ma’am . . . a naughty and inappropriate girl.”

“You are an inappropriate girl,” aren’t you Danni, “and I don’t think you’re fit for your current job. Do you?”

Danielle’s head was spinning. Not fit for her job, but she was Mrs. Danielle Parnell Esquire, a gorgeous, brilliant, authoritative leader. She could control any man with her beauty as easily as she could dominate any woman with her wiles. Every man wanted her . . . didn’t they? Linda Bertrand is nobody . . . a peon. But as her mind conjured thoughts of what was soon to be her former life, Danielle’s voice at last betrayed her.

“No, Ms. Bertrand, ma’am,” squeaked the once dominant Mrs. Parnell, “I’m not fit to be the leader of this prestigious firm . . . I . . . I . . .”

“You what Danni girl,” asked Linda sweetly.

“I quit, ma’am” whispered Danielle.

With that, and to the cheers of the lawyers, staff and families of SmythKnight, Linda Bertrand rolled the once all-powerful Mrs. Parnell to the floor and, tearing the pin striped thong from her now swollen but still fantastic ass, sent the naked prima donna literally running for cover.

I think that's you best story so far! The scene of stripping was truly amazing.

I guess that you don't write sequels but would love to read about Danielle and Jerry adventures more...

Thanks Alexandra! As always, your kind comments are most appreciated. As you note, I'm somewhat reluctant to go the sequel route insofar as I think it's the first time that an arrogant woman (or man) gets her comeuppance that really packs a punch. That said, I was thinking of subjecting Mrs. Parnell to a an old time Beginner's Luck stripping next and may try to find a way to work Jerry on as well (no guarantees). Glad you enjoyed!

Nice chapter again keep up the great work !!!

Gracias Doc -- your kind words are always appreciated and welcome!