Part 3 – Work
The longer Tasha thought about it, the more she realized the days events were no dream. Through some kind of cursed misfortune, she had her partially naked body exposed on the crowded streets of New York City. All the other students she shares classes with, those tourists, those people with cameras, all of those eyes, drinking in her humiliation as her clothes fell apart around her…
Even though she was by herself in the relative safety of her apartment, she flushed with humiliation all over again. Someone must have taken pictures of her ordeal. They were probably on the internet already. Before today, she could count the number of men that had seen or touched her breasts on one hand, and most of them were doctors. Now countless numbers of strangers were ogling her breasts, lewdly falling out of that damn sweater or her poor blouse. Or her bare bottom… or other places Tasha had never shown anyone.
She was also feeling rather sensitive down there, as if her reddened embarrassment was flowing to the source. It had only felt like this once before, when she had spent an evening experimenting with her mother’s back massager. Tasha gingerly probed herself with her pinky, discovering that she was not only very sensitive- she was wet.
What exactly had happened to her? She remembered losing her panties- God only knows who had them now. And then she remembered some shorts, little ones that squeezed her too tight. Her phone was gone, so she couldn’t call Jo for the details.
Tasha slipped on some pajamas while she contemplated her dilemma. She just needed to feel safely clothed and modest. This might be her last chance to.
Another other problem was, after buying those clothes (which were now ruined) Tasha was completely broke. She absolutely had to go to work that night. It was a sweet job, waitressing in an upscale restaurant called Munich. On a good night, she could clear almost $1000 in tips. As much as the thought of more public embarrassment terrified her, she could no afford to lose such a lucrative job.
Could it be she really was cursed? That there was some dark magic trying to expose her body and humiliate her? Tasha tried to remember what that crazy gypsy girl said when she grabbed her boob. Something about showing herself off. Maybe if she was showing herself off a little, the curse would make so she was showing off a lot? So maybe if she dressed as conservatively as possible, she wouldn’t show off anything, the curse would just leave her alone.
She had been wearing the pajamas for a little while now, and nothing had happened. All buttons buttoned, and her bottons fitting securely at her waist. If she dared step outside, she would probably be rendered completely nude in under a minute. So the curse only works if someone is looking at her, checking her out. Her professor tries to look up her skirt, and the skirt gets shorter. People look down her blouse, and the blouse bursts open. If she could keep dirty old men from ogling her, she should be just fine
The uniform for a waitress at Munich was simple. A tuxedo shirt, cut to flatter a woman’s form. A black skirt, and their signature piece, black stockings with the seam running up the back. Tasha thought that was kinda stupid at first, but she had to admit, there was a certain old school sexiness about it. Plus she had the legs to pull it off, and that didn’t hurt her tips any.
Unfortunately, avoiding sexual attention in that outfit at that restaurant was pretty much impossible. It seemed like the richer the man, the ruder the man, not to mention some of the perverted women that come in there! Plus the cooks in the kitchen. Some of the waiters, and even the busboys. Tasha’s had her ass pinched and slapped, her tits squeezed, canes and umbrellas used to pull up her skirt. She’s been pulled onto strange men’s laps, had her bra snapped, and had men try and stick cash in her cleavage.
If this morning was any indication of what tonight was going to be like, Tasha was about to go from the frying pan right into the fire. Sadly she had no choice! Tasha had to be prepared. She went through her wardrobe, and settle on the clothes that would most like stay on her as long as possible.
There wasn’t much to do about the skirt and the tuxedo blouse. She only had two of each, and they were identical pairs. The skirts were fine. Not too tight, and the came almost to her knees. The blouses were a little form fitting, not quite as baggy as she would have preferred, but the buttons seemed sturdy enough.
For lingerie, she settled on a black corset and panty set. Since the panties were black, they would blend in should her skirt rip, or some dirty old man gets a look up there. Unfortunately they were a little high cut. Not a problem for her normally, but when dressing under the threat of supernatural stripping, a girl has to consider such things. The corset was perfect. It had a bout a zillion hooks up the back, and suspenders to keep her stockings up.. She hardly wore it because it took so long to put on, so it was practically brand new. It encased her boobs like a suit of armor, although since it gave her so much lift, it also made her boobs look even bigger. Tasha also had misgivings about wearing a black bustier under a white blouse, but if that was her worst faux pas tonight, she would be lucky!
Tasha got dressed, and packed an extra blouse and skirt in her backpack.
She took a long look at herself in the mirror. The bustier was making her tits look even bigger than normal, but the blouse was handling it well enough. Skirt looked okay, and her stockings were straight. At least there would be other attractive young girls there to take some of the attention off of her.
Tasha threw on her black pumps, a long overcoat, a hat, and sunglasses. She was almost completely concealed, although she looked like some paparazzi phobic celebrity. At least it would shield from lusty gazes, and keep anyone from recognizing her from this morning.
She set out from her apartment timidly. She had no money for a cab or even the subway, she was hoofing it. So far so good. She got a few funny looks for wearing such a heavy coat in 70 degree weather, but her clothes were staying in place. This was the easy part. When she gets to work, she has to take the coat off. And that’s when things could get tricky.
Amazingly enough, she made it all the way across town to Munich without incident. She got there a little early, hoping to do most of her setup work before most of the cooks and other waiters got there. She stashed her coat and bag in the coat room.
After a brisk walk in a heavy coat, Tasha felt all sweaty and gross. She snuck into the walk-in refrigerator to cool off. The cooks loved to send the waitresses in here, because it made their nipple harden and poke at their blouses. Luckily the stiff cups of her bustier prevented her tightened nipples from humiliating her.
Feeling refreshed, Tasha was ready to take on her setup duties. Her task was to lightly oil the handmade wooden tables in her section. Simple, right?
The only person in the kitchen was Manny, a shy young teenager who couldn’t speak a word of English. Manny earned himself a reputation among the waitress for trying to peek down their blouses when they’re bending over. Still, he seemed nice enough, and never made any kind of advance. Tasha waved hello and reached up for the restaurant-size can of oil on the top shelf.
Maybe someone didn’t put the cap on right, or got oil on the outside of the can, or maybe it was just some gypsy curse. All Tasha knew was that damn jug slipped right out of her fingers, tumbling in the air in slow motion. She quickly caught it, clutching it to her chest- upside down!
Tasha screamed in shock at ths slick sensation of the cool oil splashing against her nech and chest. The glugging sound of oil pouring made her heart sink. The next of the can found it’s way into her open collar, and the oil was pouring right into her cleavage, making a funnel of her tits. She could feel it creeping down the bustier, into her skirt and panties, even down her thighs.
She quickly dropped the can, but it was far too late. Thick streeks of oil ran down her stockinged legs, raining onto the tile kitchen floor. Manny just stared at her for a moment, dumbstruck. The growing pool of oil between her feet caused Tasha to slip wildly. She tried to steady herself, but the floor was like ice, and she quickly collapsed to the floor.
Tasha’s blouse had become transparent and painted to her skin. She was torn between covering herself and trying to get back on her feet. Her feet and hands couldn’t find a hold on the floor. After what seemed like hours, Manny snapped out of his horny gaze and helped her up. Still unsteady on her oily pumps, Tasha grabbed her bag and ran to the employee washroom.
The blouse was ruined, the front was almost invisible. The skirt wasn’t much better. Work hadn’t even officially started, and already had to use her spare skirt and blouse. Tasha stripped down in a hurry. The other servers would be coming in soon, and there was just the one bathroom.
Oil was literally pooled in the valley between her breasts. It slowly oozed down, forming a slick membrane between her skin and the corset. The stream of oil trickled into her panties, saturating them. If this hadn’t been such a traumatic day, the sensation of wet slippery panties between her legs would almost be pleasant and arousing.
Her stockings were streaked with oil, and she had no spares. Tasha decided to do something radical- she rubbed her oily blouse up and down her legs. It evened out the streaks completely, and the feeling of her oiled legs brushing against each other was rather nice.
Tasha used some paper towels to mop up as much of the excess oil as possible. She didn’t have time to remove her corset, and unfortunately, that seemed to be where most of the oil had ended up. She cleaned up as much as she could and dressed in the fresh blouse and skirt. Luckily none of the oil landed in her hair or make up, but a couple of small glob of oil hit her glasses. The crappy soup in the washroom was no match for it, and no matter how hard she scrubbed them, there seemed to be a light film over the lenses. Nevertheless, she finished dressing- everything looked fine. Luckily the black lingerie and skirt hid the color, but they couldn’t hide the slippery sensation of oil all down her body.
“Curse, my ass!” she said, proud of her quick recovery.
Perhaps the curse heard her, or perhaps the smudges on her glasses kept her from noticing the condition of her fresh blouse. The corset had soaked up a tremendous amount of oil, more that a quick once-over with cheap paper towels could hope to remove. Now that oil was slowly soaking her new blouse, rendering it transparent and sticking it right to her body.
Tasha tied on her small black apron and headed back to her tasks. She heard acidic shouting from the kitchen- Estelle was in.
Estelle was the self-appointed manager of Munich. In reality, she was the trophy wife of the owner, and once a fairly famous NY fashion model. A little plastic surgery and a lot of Pilates kept her in shape, although the years had definitely padded out her boobs and ass.
Between her supermodel attitude and her statuesque 6 foot 2 frame, Estelle was a very intimidating woman. She couldn’t give a shit about the food, but she was obsessed with how the servers looked. The whole stockings thing was especially important. She’d been known to yank the skirt up on any negligent waitress who didn’t keep her seams straight, and straightened them out herself. Perhaps a direct technique from her modeling days, or perhaps she just enjoyed humiliating young women in front of the rest of the staff.
“Dammit, what a terrible day for that b*tch to be on the warpath!” Tasha took a moment to make sure her stockings looked perfect. The looked okay, but the oil made them feel wet and weird. They would probably slip and twist as the night went on- Tasha would be wise to keep an eye on them.
She took a deep breath, and hoped that the fates would be gentle on her…
Prof. Raleigh was soaking up his celebrity among his perverted compatriots. Prof. Tanaka and Dr. Spunkmeyer had heard the rumors around campus of the demure coed losing her clothes in Raleigh’s class, and again on the street. Images had been e-ailed back and forth, Raleigh had recounted his testimony again and again for them in the most minute detail.
The three of them had formed an unofficial club of perversion, dedicated to voyeurism in a college bursting with luscious young women.
Prof. Tanaka gave up a very lucrative position in his home of Japan to come teach in the states. He is a die-hard breast man, and Tokyo is a terrible place to be one. At least in America he is surrounded by curvaceous, well-endowed young women.
He gave tests and quizzes with incredible frequency so that he could look over the shoulders of his more ample students on the pretense of watching for cheating, but really so he could stare down their tops. He was also known to “accidentally” brush against the chests of some women. Rumor has it Tanaka left Japan after allegations that he was accidentally brush against a diplomat’s wife at a formal dinner.
Dr. Spunkmeyer was a legend among academic perverts. Although almost 70, he used his age as leverage to get attractive women to assist him, and thereby cop a feel.
Despite his age, the good doctor was a master of electronics. He walked with a cane (which he didn’t need) which was mounted with a pinhole camera. He had even developed a small electromagnet about the size of a joy buzzer that, when properly used, could draw down zippers and unhook bras from a foot away. He truly was the James Bond of dirty old men.
Prof. Raleigh had retrieved Tasha’s cell phone from the Goth tramp just a short while ago, and was very pleasantly surprised to see the Goth had snapped a picture of Tasha’s ordeal, and made it the wallpaper. It was a beautiful shot. Her body twisted, serpentine, caught between cowering for modesty and running for escape. He skirt, hoisted well over her full round ass. He blouse burst open, her breast bouncing wildly in her mad flight. Her eyes wide, her lips and cheeks rosy with humiliation.
Spunkmeyer was already printing more photos off the internet, creating a sexy documentary of the whole miraculous event. Still, nothing compared with Raleigh’s first-hand account.
Tanaka and Spunkmeyer were well-familiar with the infamous Tasha, having seen her nigh-perfect body gliding across campus. Infamous, because before today, Tasha seemed to have an uncanny ability to thwart their every effort at perversion. She crossed her legs with vise-like strength, obscuring even the slightest view of her panties. She used her books and backpack as coverage for her perfect breasts, preventing even the slightest peek at her cleavage. It was like Tasha knew these guys were world-class perverts, and knew every way to stymie them.
The he pulled out the show-stopper- the tattered panties. He laid them out on the desk in his office as if it was the shroud of Turin. An hourglass of delicate translucent fabric, savagely ripped at its thin lacy waistband.
This was a moment of unparalleled triumph, perhaps the greatest Raleigh had even known since her first peeped up his grade school teacher’s skirt so many years ago. His peer were in awe of him, and strove to bask in his glory and good fortune.
Even that curmudgeon Spunkmeyer was swept up in it. He pulled up her student records on his laptop, and his eyes lit up with mischief.
“My compatriots, it seems Miss Tasha has been earning her way through college by waitressing,” he mused. “Perhaps we should pay her restaurant a visit tonight?”
Tasha had been at work for just under an hour now, and Munich was officially open for the evening. In that short time, she had more than a few ill omens that coming here tonight may have been a mistake.
It didn’t take long for her to discover her oil-soaked corset was making her blouse translucent. In addition to that, the slippery corset and the natural motion of her full hips were causing the corset to slide up her body, hefting her breasts out and giving her glistening cleavage worthy of a trashy novel cover.
The added attention to her tits among her coworkers assured, thanks to her curse, that her blouse was coming unbuttoned any time eyes were on it. Thankfully the buttons were still intact, but that terrible mix of butterflies in the stomach and burning humiliation was returning.
She didn’t realize before just how much oil had seeped down her tummy and into her panties. They were slick with it, shifting and sliding across her ass and… other places. Under other circumstances, Tasha may have even enjoyed the sensual gliding of oily panties across her most intimate place, gently teasing her. Now, it just added to her humiliation. People would think she was a sl*t or something- she didn’t need to go and prove them right.
Her skirt was misbehaving too. Riding up, getting snagged on her suspenders or caught up in her apron. In a restaurant, with all this moving around and bending over, it wasn’t unusual for the girls to sometimes show a little more leg than they intended, and for the boys to tease them about it. But tonight Tasha was extra sensitive about it, and her demure shyness just seemed to egg the men on.
Tasha realized it was only a matter of time before something happened. He blouse explodes, her skirt falls off. Something. And she would be naked and humiliated in front of all her coworkers and a whole restaurant full of strangers. The anticipation was almost worse than the actual embarrassment.
Estelle hollered her name. Tasha yanked her skirt down reflexively. “Tasha, sweetheart, you’ve got a table- move it!”
Tasha crossed the restaurant to her section, trying to ignore the thick squishing of her panties with every step. The slippery little devils were sliding right between her cheeks, too- the beginning of quite an annoying wedgie. Then she saw who her first customers were…
Tasha’s heart sank into dread inversely to the way Raleigh’s, Tanaka’s and Spunkmeyer’s lit up with delight.
Raleigh, of course, she knew. Her sleazy professor was perhaps her most humiliating witness to Tasha ordeal this afternoon. This smarmy old bastard hard more intimate knowledge of Tasha’s young body than the most adept and charming frat boys. His unwelcome eyes on here know made her even more acutely aware of her slithering panties.
She’s never had a class with Prof. Tanaka, but this would not be the first time she could feel his burning gaze fixed on her full chest. He had a knack for “crossing paths” with Tasha all around campus, especially cramped places where he might “accidentally” brush against her tits. Small coffee shops, the gym, the library. And of course, he now had his dirty eyes fixed on her cleavage now, served up in her overly ambitious bustier, blossoming out of a blouse that won’t stay closed.
Spunkmeyer, the old man, she didn’t recognize. He looked sweet enough, but judging by the sleazy company he keeps, he must a be one dirty old man.
“Ah, Miss Tasha! One of my most prized pupils,” Prof Raleigh sang. His companions snickered knowingly.
“Hello, Professor…” Tasha murmured, eyes lowered. She rubbed her thighs together nervously, perhaps to distract herself, and perhaps subconsciously, she was captivated by their oily slickness. It was also causing her panties to ride higher and higher into her well-lubricated private places. Tasha, however was too preoccupied with the certainty that, unless she did something, she would certain end up naked and humiliated in front of these horrid old men.
Tasha took their drink orders and turned to leave.
“Miss Tasha, one moment! I have something you lost today” Raleigh said. Her blood ran cold- she had lost quite a few things that day, her modesty not being the least.
He placed her cell phone on the table. She couldn’t help but give him a sheepish smile as she recovered her phone. It wasn’t his fault all these bad things were happening to her, right? At least he was doing the nice thing by returning her phone, and she gladly picked it up.
“What…?” The only word to escape her lips. The dirty old bastard had put some kind of nudie porn picture on her phone! Some trashy sl*t with her skirt hiked up and her fat tits hanging out, her face flushed with lust. Tasha spun around, ready to blast the filthy professor for his behavior, until something in that dirty photo struck her as… familiar.
The skirt… the blouse… the girl in the photo is herself! She’d never seen herself in such a heated, humiliated display, and by now, half the city- no, half the world had! The electrified tingling in the pit of her belly returned. Like this afternoon, but even stronger.
“My god…” He knees buckled in embarrassment.
“You’re making me a believer, Miss Tasha.” Raleigh grinned smugly.
Tasha slipped her phone into her apron. She felt like every eye in the restaurant was mentally undressing her, especially the three pairs around her right now.
She rushed away with their drink orders, nervously tugging at her blouse and skirt to safeguard what little was left of her modesty. There was no way Tasha could handle another ordeal by herself- she needed backup.
Today was far and away the most sexually exciting day in Jo’s young life. On the one hand, she was very proud of herself for protecting her friend through such a… humiliating experience. On the other, she could kick herself for not taking advantage of that nude goddess, driven to heat and nearly nude.
Jo was currently expressing that frustrations, alone in her bedroom, bent over her dresser. Naked except for some periwinkle blue cotton panties. One hand was furiously at work inside those panties. The other held the tattered remains of her green gym shorts up to her nose..
In her mind, Jo ran and reran that movie over and over again, of the goddess Tasha, so chaste and pure, today trying to pleasure herself against her own will on a crowded New York City sidewalk, using the gym shorts now pressed to Jo’s face.
She could feel an orgasm building, and fast. It was well deserved, too. Jo resisted the urge to pleasure herself right there in Tasha’s apartment as her exhausted crush slept off her humiliating day.
Her cell phone rang. Jo would have ignored it, but Tasha’s name was on the ID.
“Hello?” She tried to not sound breathless.
“Jo, it’s me, Tasha.” She sounded timid.
“Are you okay”
“Jo, it’s happening again.”
“What is?” Jo knew damn well what was happening, but she wanted to hear Tasha describe it.
“That curse… I spilled oil on myself. Now my blouse is see-through. And the oil is in my panties, and they’re slipping around. And these old men keep leering at me. And this stupid curse, it’s making me… making me…”
“Making you…?”
“…horny” Tasha whispered. “I can’t sop it and its driving me CRAZY.”
“Where are you?”
“Work.”
“I’m on my way.”
Jo threw on a long white linen skirt and a pink tank top. She would not miss this show for the world.
Tasha felt some relief that Jo was coming to help see her through this. She gather up the old bastards drinks and brought them over.
Those old men probed every inch of her with their perverted eyes. Her translucent blouse, doing little to hide her exotic corset or ample bust. Her black skirt, riding ever-higher over her full hips and round bottom.
With one hand carrying the tray, and the other passing out drinks, she could not adjust her blouse or skirt, leaving her at the mercy of the men and the curse. Her stocking tops peeking into view made her nervous and anxious. She rushed to hand Raleigh her drink, and nearly lost her balance, and the top button of her blouse.
“Careful, deary!” Spunkmeyer was quick to steady her with a hand around her waist. In truth, he was looking for a chance to apply specially designed electromagnet. It was wired into a simple leather glove, and could unhook a woman’s bra in a fraction of second. Spunkmeyer was especially adroit with it, although he had never attempted anything as ambitious as a full corset.
Tasha felt the nasty old man’s hand across her back, and the slight tug around her midsection, but she had no clue that half the hooks of her elaborate corset had just come undone. Nor that she had lost a button, her blouse now showing the lacy edges of each bra cup, as well as a dangerous amount of cleavage.
Tasha noticed her corset was fitting a bit more comfortable. Her breasts had settled down to a more natural height.
The three men barraged her with questions about the entres, the appetizers, the salads, the wines, everything and anything on the menu. Tasha did her best to answer them, but it was quite clear men were stalling, keeping her around to enjoying her impending misfortune.
She rubbed her slick thighs togehter anxiously. She couldn’t wait to be away from these horrid man, and she was aware that even though they were repellant, their lecherous gaze was driving her to a fever. What she was NOT aware of was Spunkmeyer’s pinhole camera between her knees, or its live feed to the laptop in front of Raleigh.
“Black. Satan.” He said aloud.
Tasha immediately knew they could somehow see her panties, and fled the table in mid-sentence.
She rushed across the main floor of the restaurant, her tits bouncing even more than before. All eyes were on her. Wealthy patrons, her coworkers, everyone. But she was quite glad to be away from those hideous creeps.
Tasha hid at the far end of the bar and caught her breath. Her loosened corset was no longer supporting her stockings, which were becoming crooked and twisted.. Something Estelle had just noticed.
Estelle HATED Tasha. Nothing personal, but Estelle simply could not abide another woman being so young and attractive in her presence.. Add to that the fact that the 3 months Tasha has worked her, her stockings have always been impeccable, along with the rest of her entire. Which means that Estelle has never had an excuse to yank her skirt up and humiliate her in front of a crowded restaurant. This fact was also lamented by many of the regulars. But today, that all changed.
The poor girl was a mess today. Distracted, disheveled, distraught, and her stockings. Tsk tsk tsk. Estelle moved in like a lioness going for the kill. In a motion she had committed a thousand times, Estelle sn*tched the hemline of Tasha’s skirt, and yanked it clear to her waste, baring her black satin panties to the entire restaurant.
Tasha screamed!
Many of the patrons roared and cheered, realizing what a momentous occasion this was.
“Miss Tasha, this is NOT how we present ourselves here at Munich!”
“Okay! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Tasha pulled down furiously at her skirt, trying at the very least to cover her crotch, which was calling for her attention more than ever.
Estelle definitely exposed the young beauty longer that should would any of the other waitresses, but when she tried to relent, she found her sleeve was stuck! The buttons on the cuff of her blouse had become snagged on the undone hooks of Tasha’s corset! Tasha struggled to escape from Estelle, tugging at her blouse.
“Stop fidgeting! My blouse is caught!” Another wave of cheers from the restaurant. This was getting even better.
“Get it out! Let go!” Tasha was flushed red. It took all her strength to keep the front of her skirt over her panties, let alone her bare thighs. Estelle jerked her backwards like a naughty dog on a leash.
“Stop it! Let me get uncaught.” Estelle snaked her free hand up the young girl’s skirt, but Tasha could not sit still. As if answering the silent prayers of a dozen patrons, Estelle’s other cuff became bound to Tasha’s failing corset, her hands pressed against the girl’s pantied ass.
“Goddamit! Stop wiggling around!” Estelle snapped. “This blouse costs more than you earn in a week!” With bother her sleeves caught, Estelle couldn’t reach the offending hooks to free herself.
Tasha fell across a bar stool, her ass pointed in the air. The pair of them officially had the undivided attention of the entire restaurant. The customers were on their feet. The kitchen staff had come out to watch. Splayed doggy-style across the stool, Tasha covered her reddening face with her hands.
Estelle was growing flustered herself. The struggle had pulled her expensive blouse free from her skirt, exposing the pale flesh of her trim tummy. In her frustration, Etelle began tugging hard at the corset.
“Stop it! Stop it!! You’re pulling me… out of my… my…!” Tasha’a unbridled arousal was making it hard for her to catch her breath. Her corset was sliding down her body, aided by the thin layer of oil. Estelle tugged again, and Tasha’s breasts sprang free, her thin, oil-soaked blouse making that obvious to everyone in sight.
Tasha’s panties were soaked with cursed excitement. With Estelle’s hands barely an inch away from her privates, it was only a matter of time until… Estelle’s hand slipped between Tasha’s thighs and felt the moisture across her panties.
“Oh my God! Are you getting off on this?!” Estelle ran her middle finger up and down the crotch of the young girls wet panties, probing Tasha’s eager lips.
“Stop it! Stop touching me there!” Tasha screamed. The truth was it felt good, too good. It took all of Tasha’s will not to lean back into the evil woman’s exploring fingers.
“You are! You dirty sl*t!” Estelle gave the poor girls swollen clit a playful poke. Tasha spasmed in response, her right breast popping free from her blouse. That mean b*tch’s fingers were doing what Tasha had been wanting to do to herself for the past hour, but not like this. Not bent over doggy style in the middle of a posh NY restaurant, with dozens of patrons reveling in her ecstasy and debasement.
“Unh! No! Pleeease!” Tasha needed to be away from here, NOW. She pushed off the bar stool, ready to run, pulling Estelle’s blouse even higher.
“No you don’t! You’re ripping my blouse!” Estelle pulled the younger, smaller woman back, lifting Tasha off her feet. The poor young waitress collapsed to her hands and knees. Estelle’s blouse jerked higher still, the well-filled cups of her lacy bra peeking out.
“I’ll pull this damn corset off of you right here in front of everyone if I have to!” Estelle grabbed the corset with her hands and gave a ferocious pull. Tasha felt the corset slide at least six inches, the empty cups now down around her navel.
“NO! Let go of me!” Still on her hands and knees, Tasha scrambled to tray and escape. Estelle pulled her right back. Tasha’s corset gave another few inches, but so did Estelle’s blouse, tangling around her armpits and neck. Both women were caught in Tug of War at the cost of their own clothes.
This was the scene as Jo walked into the restaurant. Even after the day’s events this was pretty shocking. She hid herself behind a potted plant by the restrooms to watch.
Tasha was on all fours, her skirt around her waste an one breast bouncing free of her white blouse. She had some kind of corset on, but some attractive older woman was trying to pull it down over Tasha’s hips. The older woman herself was losing her blouse in the fight, her fat tits and white lace bra on display for the very receptive crowd.
Tasha’s face was red with a potent mix of embarrassment and sexual excitement. She was clearly caught between two impulses- the urge to run and hide and the urge to come right there and find relief.
Tasha’s modesty won out. She kicked backwards, knocking Estelle on her ass and out of her blouse. She somehow pulled herself to her feet, despite the fact that her corset was now tightly wrapped around her knees.
Now sharing in Tasha’s humiliation, Estelle crossed her arms over her bra and tits, and fled for the kitchen. Tasha’s escape would not be so simple.
With the corset and blouse tangled around her legs, Tasha could only take the tiniest steps. As she tried to right her skirt, she discovered her panties were missing as well, not doubt dragged down by the corset. She fixed her skirt, but not before giving the entire restaurant a teasing glimpse of her bubble butt and natural gold trim. Her stuttered walking was making her tits- especially the one bare tit, bouncing wildly.
Through the steamed-up lenses of her glasses, Tasha spotted the errant breast, and quickly slipped it back in her blouse, for what little did it good. The missing button gave way to an impressive expanse of young, quivering cleavage. The still-oily fabric traced every curve of her torso, including her taut nipples.
For what seemed like an eternity, Tasha minced across the open floor of Munich, disheveled and dizzy with lust and embarrassment. She shielded her face from sight. Jo could stand it not more, and rushed to Tasha’s aid.
“Jo! Oh thank God! Please…! I’m losing all my clothes again… and… and…”
It’s making you horny, Jo completed her statement silently. As Jo crouched to untangled the knotted of corset and panties and blouse, Jo caught a wiff of that familiar perfume. That scent she had just been enjoying rather intimately not an hour before. In compliance with the curse, as Tasha’s humiliation increased, so did her arousal.
As Jo fought to liberate her, Tasha could feel hundreds of eyes exploring her body. With one hand she fought to keep her rising hemline in place, but the hexed skirt was obeying the will of countless perverted strangers, tightening and shrinking across her hips.
Her other hand tried to cradle her ample breasts, protecting them from indecency. But she could feel her blouse tightening, forming gaping eyelets along the button, peeks at the bare flesh along her tummy.
And even with the gawking, gaping, grinning expressions of the patrons all around her, Tasha’s mind returned again and again to Estelle’s fingers inside her.
“Uh…nyuh… oh my God… Jo, please hurry! I think I lost my panties… again.” Tasha reflexively leaned to to cover herself, putting her fevered sex just inches from Jo’s face.
At long last Jo completely unhooked the corset. She opened up the full stride of her long legs, the stockings ripping free from the suspenders. At last unbound, Tasha ran- right out of her panties. Her bewitched skirt could not handle the strain-
RIIIP! It tore up the seam right to the zipper- halfway up her bare bottom, flexing and jiggling as Tasha fled the dining room.
Jo leapt up after her, forgetting to retrieve the errant panties from the floor. She found Tasha in the cloak room, relatively unused this time of year, hiding behind a few abandoned coats in the back.
Tasha was a sight. Hair, tussled. Skin, flushed and sweaty. Her blouse unbuttoned- no, debuttoned right down almost to her belly, her high fat tits squeezing to peek out with every panting breath. Tattered stockings barely left on her legs, and a skirt that was destined to abandon and humiliate her.
Tasha cupped her breast with other arm, the other crushing her skirt against her crotch. At first blush it looked like she was shielding her pantiless privates under her skirt. Then Jo realized she was pushing her palm into her crotch- into her clit! The curse was making her more and more aroused with every exposure, compounding her humiliation with sexual frustration!
“Did you find my panties?” Tasha whispered. Jo held up her empty hands, and Tasha pouted. “It’s happening again, Jo. Everyone is going to see me naked!”
“No they won’t, sweety!” Jo gave Tasha a hug- her skin was on fire!
“Jo, I can’t go back out there without my underwear. I can’t go home. I didn’t bring any more panties…” she looked pleadingly to her friend. “Jo, could you give me your panties?”
Jo was dumbstruck! Out in the restaurant, they could still her commotion as various patrons and employees looked for the half-naked Tasha.
“You’re not cursed! No one will see! Please Jo! I just want to go home!” Jo looked down at her long linen skirt. No one could really see up it. Nothing short of a tornado would blow it up. Plus the idea of the sexually overcharged goddess wearing her panties was more than a little exciting.
“Okay… turn around.” Tasha turned to face the corner, giving Jo a free look at her bare behind between the split in her skirt.
Jo reached up her skirt, hooked her thumbs in the elastic, and slid off her panties. They were simple cotton panties. Bikini-cut. Light blue with little white polka-dots. And they were more than a little most from Jo’s unfinished self-pleasuring.
Jo knelt down behind Tasha.
“Lift your foot,” she commanded, and Tasha obeyed. “Don’t touch the panties- I, uh, don’t want the curse to make them rip…”
Jo slid the panties up and came to a shocking realization- these panties were far too small. Jo was a petit girl, with slight hips and a small but firm butt. Tasha was far more voluptuous, with sweeping hips and a full, round ass. By the middle of Tasha’s thighs, the panties were straining.
“Um, my underwear is a little small on you…”
“Oh noooo… Can’t you get the on? Please, Jo.”
Jo wiggled them up an inch at the time. Tasha’s bare thighs felt so smooth, almost slippery to her touch, and it helped the panties ascend.
She had to hike up Tasha’s skirt to get the panties over the twin globes of her tush, putting Tasha’s naked body once again just inches from Jo’s face. The cotton panties were stretched thin. Jo yanked at them as much as she dared, and heard the material creak ominously.
“There… I think.” Jo could pull them no higher. Unfortunately, Jo’s itty bitty panties could only half-cover Tasha’s ass. Between Tasha’s thighs, Jo could see her underwear pulled tight between Tasha’s glistening wet lips. The cotton was stretched so thin it was becoming translucent.
“Don’t suppose I could borrow your bra?” Tasha joked.
“…not wearing one.” Jo shrugged.
Tasha look back over her shoulder at Jo. “Jo, I can see your titties!” Jo inspected herself. Crouched down like that her tank top did hang away, revealing her pert little tits. Jo pulled out her right tit and stuck out her tongue at Tasha. Tasha giggled, thankful for the distraction.
“Okay, I’m just going to get my things, and we can leave.” Tasha smoothed her skirt and held her blouse closed with one hand. As she ventured from the cloak room, Jo followed. Jo didn’t want to think she was setting her friend up for a fall, but the imminent show would not be one to be missed.
The dining room had more or less returned to a normal calm. Her panties and undone bustier were gone from the center floor, no doubt in the possession of some pervert. Tasha was unaware of the damage to her skirt, and the peeks of creamy flesh and blue cotton panty through the rip were gaining some attention.
Her brisk pace was making Jo’s panties ride up terribly. Tasha’s didn’t want to admit it, but she was rather well-lubricated right now, and the tiny panties were having their way with her.
Tasha tried to slip along the darker edge of the dining room- unfortunately, that path took her right past Prof. Raleigh’s table.
“Miss Tasha! Oh Miss Tasha!” The dirty old bastard called to her. Against her better judgment, Tasha approached the table, still clutching her blouse closed. All three old men openly stared at her body with shameless lust.
“Are you leaving us, Miss Tasha?” She nodded, yes.
“Fair enough, you are having quite a day, aren’t you?” Tasha nodded again. “However, we never got the chance to tip you for your wonderful service…”
“That’s okay. I have to go-“ Tasha tried to slip away.
“Wait! Wait!” Raleigh called. “We have a business proposal for you!” Livid, Tasha was tempted to slap the old pervert right there.
“No, no, you misunderstand, my dear.” He protested. “We are gentlemen, and would never propose something so uncouth… However, we are simple men with simple appetites, and we would reward you handsomely for you’re your lightest grace.”
“Get to the point.” Tasha was losing her patience. However, if she didn’t bring home some cash tonight, she’d also be losing her apartment.
“We just want a little peek up that skirt,” Spunkmeyer piped in. “A hundred bucks cash for ten seconds!”
At first, Tasha was scandalized. The dirty old men paying a girl just to peek up her skirt- it was like a form of prostitution! On the other hand, she was desperate for cash, and a little looksy up her dress was probably one of the more modest displays she’s put on today.
“Wait a minute”, she thought to herself. “These pervs think I lost my panties! They think I’m not wearing anything under this skirt!” Tasha suddenly felt like she had the upper hand. Jo’s panties could protect a measure of her modesty, and she could tricky these lecherous old fools out of some money!
“A hundred bucks for five seconds,” Tasha countered. She was feeling bolder now.
“I’ll go you one better my dear,” said Raleigh. “A hundred bucks for every five seconds you keep you skirt raised and you charms on display.”
Tasha was in a conundrum. She would never dream of giving these filthy monsters the satisfaction. On the other hand, she could make her rent in just a minute- and she was wearing panties!
“Let’s see the cash” Tasha tried to sound tough.
Raleigh produced a thick roll of hundred dollar bills. Tasha sighed…
She crowded up as close as possible to the corner of the table, between Raleigh and Spunkmeyer to get out of public sight.
Raleigh, Takashi, and Spunkmeyer leaned in close. Spunkmeyer had all his little hidden cameras rolling, including one under the table between Tasha’s feet, shooting straight up at her crotch.
One hand still holding her blouse, Tasha’s free hand reached for her hem and timidly pulled it to her waist. The split in the back yawned open, revealing most of her barely covered behind to the rest of the restaurant.
Spunkmeyer almost cried foul when he saw the panties, until he took a closer look. The tiny blue things scarcely covered anything. A wisp of golden hair was peeking out the simple lace of the elastic. The gusset was soaked through with the young girl’s excitement, swallowed between her flushed, hungry lips.
“Five seconds,” Raleigh said, as he laid one hundred dollar bill on the table.
The second she hoisted her skirt, Tasha felt her level of arousal skyrocket. The three men leaned in close to her crotch, and studied it like they were memorizing it. Despite her best efforts at self control, Tasha could feel her pulse racing, her hot skin wet with perspiration, her breathing quicken. There was a tingling, an itch building down in her pussy, compounded by the fact that Jo’s panties were bunched up and pressing on her tender clit.
“Ten seconds,” Another hundred dollars.
Tasha’s knees buckled. Her hand slips from her blouse to steady herself against the table. Tanaka brightens at the sight of her excessive cleavage.
“Fifteen seconds.”
Tasha felt dizzy and fevered, like she was tipsy. She clenched her thighs, as if to drive it out, but it actually increased the pressure and heightened her sensitivity. Tasha spread her legs wide. It took the pressure off and steadier her stance, but gave the men an even more intimate view…
“Twenty seconds.”
As Tasha’s legs grew weaker, her arousal grew stronger. Her inhibitions and cares about these nasty old men, the patrons in the restaurant, being exposed in public; they were fading in a fog of lust.
“Twenty five seconds.”
Her knees buckled wildly. Tasha leaned against the table for support, and found the corner of the table pressing against her crotch… and it felt good!
Tasha recoils, pulling her sex away from the corner. Some small part of her inhibition is still fighting back against the tsunami of gypsy sex magic and compulsive exhibitionism.
Still, if she could just lean against the table, just a little, maybe she could end this. Scratch this itch, release this pressure and clear her head. If she does it casually, no one will notice, right? She just needed to be inconspicuous about it.
“T-thirty seconds.”
Inconspicuous she was not. A curvaceous, statuesque honey-blond, her ample tits threatening to spill from her ravaged blouse, her skirt split almost to her waist revealing a pair of almost comically undersized panties, gently humping the corner of a table in an upscale Manhattan restaurant was anything but inconspicuous. Raleigh, Tanaka, and Spunkmeyer, three of the most experienced perverts in the city, were absolutely awestruck by Tasha’s self indulgent display.
“…fourty seconds!”
Jo was equally shocked. She watched her friend’s meltdown from across the restaurant, as did virtually every patron in the place. Munich was dead silent, except for the sound of water glasses lightly tinking against each other on Tasha’s table.
Jo was conspicuously aware of her own lack of panties, feeling the cool AC across her damp pussy. Watching Tasha bewitched and pleasuring herself against a table corner was such a dramatic turn from the chaste but lovely beauty Jo had become so secretly infatuated with. She also realized that, by the terms of the curse, the more Jo leered and lusted after her humiliated friend, the deeper Tasha’s lust would surge. And leer Jo did, wondering what it would feel like to press her mouth and tongue against Tasha’s nervous wet pussy.
“Muh-mff…” Tasha stifled a moan, still deluding herself that her self-pleasuring was quite discrete. Her hair was falling over her eyes, sticking to her sweaty cheeks and brow. Her glasses had slid to the end of her nose. Her mouth hung open with hot breath. Her tits trembled in time with her gyrations.
Tasha’s less-than-subtle efforts at relief had caused the panties to become bunched and askew, revealing almost all of her pubic hair. They wrapped tightly around the tiny button of her swollen clit, as she pressed it into the damp 450 thread count linen table cloth.
“One minute!” Twelve hundred dollars.
The skirt slipped from Tasha’s fingers, ending her panty show. Her head clearing, she claimed her cash and stuffed it into the pocket of her waitress apron. The skirt pooled on the tabletop, and when Tasha pushed against the table with both hands to steady and right herself, she didn’t realize the skirt was caught under her grip.
The sound of ripping fabric cut the silence in the restaurant. Her damaged skirt gave up its last stitch, slipping away from her ass and hips. The little blue panties covered so little of her ass and crotch. Only her small waitress apron gave her a hint of modesty.
“Oh NO!” Tasha squealed. The restaurant exploded in laughter. Tasha struggled to cover her almost-bare bottom with her splayed hands, oblivious to her jiggling breasts threatening to fall out of her half-open blouse.
Tasha’s shaky legs wobbled under her. Jo rushed up to support her friend and to help her flee the room. Suddenly, a titanic shockwave hit Tasha in her privates, almost pushing her right to orgasm. She collapsed to the floor, most of her ass no hanging out of the panties.
“Oh god! Oh god! Uh uhhhh!!” It was more than just the exposure and embarrassment of being objectified in front of hundreds of strangers. Something very real was vibrating against her clit, paralyzing her with pleasure. Against her most chaste sensibilities, Tasha arched her back and humped the unseen force.
At last Tasha realized it was her cell phone! Those dirty bastards had set it to vibrate before they gave it back to her. Raleigh grinned and waved his phone it her- he was the one calling her!
Jo helped Tasha to her feet. Her legs were still weak and rubbery. They fled once again to the sanctuary of the cloak room. Tasha collapsed in the corner.
“What am I going to do now? I can’t go home in just these!” Tasha whimpered. Jo couldn’t take her eyes off her panties- starched to the limit, soaking wet, and concealing nothing of Tasha’s privates.
Then she noticed Tasha’s apron, looking like a half-hearted excuse for a miniskirt.
“I’ve got an idea.” Jo returned a few minutes later with a second apron. She tied it to Tasha’s apron. It did cover Tasha, front and back., although the two aprons left two bare strips on either hip. They were also rather skimpy, especially across Tasha’s ass. The apron skirt didn’t quite cover the bottoms of her cheeks, and across the top her crack was peeking out.
“Can we go home now?” Tasha cried. The pair fled out the front door of Munich, into the warm New York night- and right into a maze of velvet ropes, packed with young New York socialites.
Tasha caused quite a sensation among the crowd. Her blouse, ravaged, oil-soaked and sweaty, covered her ample tits in only the most technical sense. Her “skirt” was little more that two black swatches of cloth, poorly tied and not quite adequate to cover the tiny panties her full ass was squeezing out of.
Jo and Tasha realized the crowd from the inside the restaurant was following them outside, hopping to see where this sexy misadventure would go.
Confronted with a thousand probing eyes, Tasha froze, her hands reflexively covering her shame. Jo nimbly slipped under the nearest rope, and reached back to grab Tasha.
Tasha was taller than Jo, and given her state of undress, decided against bending down to slip under the rope. As discretely as possible, she tried to slip a long leg over the rope, giving some smug prick an eyeful of her wet blue panties.
The heavy velvet rope tapped against her poor clit, sending shockwaves down Tasha’s thighs. She dropped to her knees, or would have- the heavy velvet rope caught her, hung in the air like a hammock, hoisting her up by her own crotch.
“Oh! Oh! OHHHH!!” Tasha’s eyes went WIDE. Jo grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and tried to get her back on her feet. Tasha’s right breast jiggled free to a mix of joyous cheers and dirty looks from the crowd. Not to mention joyous looks and dirty cheers.
Jo gave her another heave, getting the blonde’s feet underneath her. Tasha was too distracted trying to scoop her naked boob back into her blouse. Jo dragged the girl into motion, forcing her to run- but something jerks Tasha to a halt.
The end of the velvet rope, hooked on the back of Tasha’s little blue cotton panties.
The panties ripped, but not altogether, and not all at once. It was more like they dissolved, like wet cobwebs. The over-stretched blue cotton winked open dozens of holes to match the little white polka dots. Then the elastic ripped free and unwound itself, plucking apart like bow strings. First across her left buttock, then the elastic across the top. Only the band of simple lace across her right cheek remain, with tatters of blue cotton.
“MY PANTIES!” Jo and Tasha screamed in sync. Jo jerked at Tasha’s arm, forcing her to run. Running isn’t natural for Tasha, at least not in stiletto heels. And certainly not braless, in a half-open blouse, make-shift skirt and no panties.
The wobbly, mincing stride made Tasha’s tits bounce, her nipple popping in and out of sight. However, she was more concerned with the nether regions. Jo’s improvised apron skirt was coming untied, and slipping over Tasha’s hips. Tasha splayed one hand across her bare bottom, the other over her crotch, her finger tips meeting between her thighs.
Tasha is humiliated once again. Not just because her body, her virgin flower has been stripped and bared for countless horny strangers. Not just because her own humility and shame were the very impetus to disrobe her. She is most humiliated because even now, as her hands fight vainly to protect what little is left of her modesty, her fingers cannot help but tease her eager, wet pussy. Her own body had completely betrayed her.
“In here!” Jo led her towards shelter. The pack of gawkers and perverts were hot on their tail, and Tasha would take any port in the storm. Her skirt was rapidly coming apart. If only she had a moment’s peace and privacy to fix it!
Jo dashed to the large revolving door. Tasha strived to keep pace in heels, and with her hands fixed upon her vulnerable naked bits. Jo pushed the heavy door into motion- then stopped abruptly.
This building wasn’t quiet or deserted! It was hosting a gala art exhibit, its main entrance was around the corner.
The heavy revolving door swept in behind Tasha, catching the shirt tail of her blouse.
“Oh SHIT! My blouse!” It was too late The moving door literally consumed Tasha’s blouse, pinning her arms back with the taut sleeves. What few buttons she had left could not take the strain, and the blouse ripped apart. With her arms pulled back, Tasha’s back was forced to arch, thrusting her perfect bare tits out into Jo’s face.
Tasha’s fan club swarmed in from the outside. A whole new pack of onlookers flocked from inside the art gala. Hundreds of faces filled every inch of the glass doors, fogging it with their hot breath. Camera flashes strobed, Many people were even shooting video.
At long last, the pathetic remains of Tasha’s apron skirt gave up, slithering over her hips and plopping at her feet. With her arms and shoulders bound by the maw of the door, Tasha could only attempt to cross one leg or the other over her exposed pussy, in a futile attempt to cover herself.
“Ooohhh… oh god Jo! ….so… humiliating…” Tasha squirmed and gyrated in a confusing mix of lust and embarrassment. There was nothing Jo could do to help her. No more clothes to improvise. No more escapes. So Jo d****d herself over Tasha’s body, hoping to give her friend an ounce of modesty by shielding her with her own body.
Jo instantly felt Tasha’s hand grab the side of her tank top and pull her closer, thrusting Jo’s face between Tasha’s moist heaving breasts. She was caught in the tangle of Tasha’s squirming legs- Tasha was stepping on her skirt, tugging it down. Suddenly Jo’s linen skirt slipped over her hips, revealing her bare ass and pussy to the world!
“Oh no! Tasha! My skirt came off! Let go! Let go!! I’m not wearing any panties!” Tasha couldn’t hear her; she was caught in the nonconsensual throes of arousal, fired by their lustful audience.
Tasha spasmed and curled, like she was caught in some kind of fever dream. Her left leg hooked around Jo, and she pressed her soaking wet sex into her friends bare hip. She began humping her teased and tortured clit into her friend’s thigh.
Jo could feel the tiny firm clitoris being thrust into her, gliding on a wet layer of Tasha’s own juices. It was hard for her to not get swept up in the ecstasy. So many times she had dreamed of doing this with Tasha- just not in front of half of Manhattan!
Tasha pulled at Jo’s tank top, freeing the Asian girl’s firm pointed tits. Tasha was too intoxicated to care. The smell of Tasha, the feel of her flesh. Jo began grinding her own pussy into Tasha’s thigh. The two women quickly found a rhythm, oblivious to the cries and cheer of their growing audience.
“Oh Jo, I’m so sorry… I don’t… mean to-“
”Don’t be sorry,” gasped Jo. She kissed her friend on the lips, and the two came together, in a sweaty, shuddering burst.
Jo doesn’t remember much of what happened next, and Tasha even less. Somehow Jo got them both dressed, as much as she could. She slipped her skirt on Tasha, fitting it on her like a nighty.
Somehow they escaped the revolving door, pushed past the crowds, and found a cab home.
Tasha had enough money to pay her rent, but she decided to move in with Jo instead to save some money. The curse seemed to be lifted; perhaps it was that ultimate humiliation of a public orgasm that did it. Buut who knows who long that would last for?
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