Lost Underwear

Arriving home Alicia slammed the door and leant back on it closing her eyes not wanting to look. It was Friday evening and she had the whole weekend ahead of her yet she felt anxious and afraid. After taking a deep breath she rummaged frantically through a handbag to find what she dreaded. Both bra and panties she remembered putting on that morning were there. On finding them she became aware of not wearing underwear though until that moment she had been completely oblivious of the fact.

This morning she had left for the office wearing this set but some time during the day it found its way into her bag, so what had happened? Every day that week she arrived home to find a pair of panties crumpled into a corner of this bag with no recollection of how they got there. She had a vague memory of going to the restroom on Monday where she removed her panties but nothing more of that episode and not a glimmer of how it had happened each day after that.

Cooking dinner was a good therapeutic task and it gave her a chance to think through these worrying events. Chopping onions gave a good excuse to shed some tears while feeling sorry for her-self. She wished she were back home where this worrying situation could be shared with friends she trusted and one of them might even help with a sensible suggestion of what the hell was going on. It was disturbing recalling an aunt's weird behaviour and their discovery she had Alzheimer's. During a family visit the old woman started removing her tights and cutting them up. She was perfectly sane in all other things and rationalised this bizarre behaviour by saying she was using them as stuffing for soft toys she had been sewing for a charity.

"No! That can't be it. I'm too young. I'm only twenty-four." Alicia spoke out loud trying to reassure herself. Looking around the compact kitchen it was all so normal, nothing out of place, nor had she let her appearance go. It would have been equally useless to say she was too pretty to contract an illness yet somehow it helped. Sure she was young and beautiful but that wouldn't prevent some weird brain malfunction.

"I wish I knew more about illness, about my own body." She said, while shuddering at the memory of school biology lessons where she had been totally turned off the subject after dissecting a frog. She hadn't done well in school and was glad to leave. Unable to find a job meant the inevitable move to the city where life had progressed as expected. A small car, a small apartment, a small salary with little prospects.

Her body was often bisected by young men, and not so young, while some enjoyed the large breasts others admiring her long legs. Alicia didn't encourage them she simply accepted the attention with immunity, becoming very able at ignoring it. She sometimes wished she had blond hair for that is how she often felt, more a dumb blond than a clever brunette. It was the large pert breasts that men looked at not her.

With a casserole in the oven she sat down with a pen and paper, concentrating hard to list all that she knew about what was happening. The first day had been shrugged off putting it down to being over-tired. After all it had been a struggle moving home and starting a new job. Even on Tuesday she hadn't felt anything unusual until arriving home to be mystified on finding yet again a pair of panties in the handbag, the ones she should have been wearing.

By Wednesday evening it was worrying. During the whole of Thursday she made a regular check on what she was wearing or possibly not wearing. Frequent visits to the restroom without the handbag were of no help as she still arrived home to find the panties in it and nothing under her dress. Today she didn't even remember going to the restroom to check. It was all so very worrying. Worse still the bra was in there too. How long had she been working in the office not wearing the underwear. She tried to think of those visiting her desk with reports to amend. Had anyone shown an unusual interest, had anyone noticed?

She wrote down -- 'completely unaware of taking them off or being in the office without underwear until seeing them in the handbag'. She drew a line then wrote 'Friday - bra also missing'.

There was an incident last weekend perhaps that too was connected. At the beach she had worn a new bikini only to find it had become see-through when wet. She had casually walked into the changing room only to see it in a floor to ceiling mirror; she looked naked, with everything on show. Almost dying with shock she ran to the locker desperate to grab a towel. At the time she had laughed it off, partly from embarrassment, as there hadn't been anyone around that early Sunday morning it seemed a harmless enough mistake.

It had still been hot Sunday afternoon when she went out for a stroll through the park until a sudden down pour spoilt the day. It brought some relief from the heat but she was stuck sheltering without a coat under a tree. Running back to the apartment she stripped off the clinging dress and found she hadn't been wearing anything underneath. At the time she hadn't thought anything of it, as it had been so hot. The thin cotton dress would have been plastered to her skin showing off a lithe body.

An alarm bell rang in her mind beating in rhythm with a pulse throbbing on her forehead. Was this dreadful condition escalating? Would each day bring the spectre of ever more items of clothing disappearing unexpectedly? It seemed she was unaware of missing items of clothing until seeing them in her bag or being confronted by the revelation in a mirror. Would she end up walking around the office, nude, completely unaware of her nakedness?

She didn't dare go into the office again until this whole thing was sorted out. In hope that it might be psychological, from stress, she made an appointment with a therapist. Saturday morning she awoke exhausted after a restless night. On the way to a consultant she happened to stop to look at a display of dresses and was astonished to see the reflection of herself in the plate glass window. Through the light cotton dress it was plain for all to see she wore nothing underneath. Carefully she looked round the mall using the reflection to see if anyone had noticed and was mortified to see it had and men were ogling her. With a small bag held before her body she strode back to the car all the time fiercely holding back hot tears. In a panic she drove home sitting outside the apartment building gathering courage to leave the safe confines of the car.

When a stranger phoned she still wasn't thinking straight and assumed it was someone from the therapists office phoning because she had missed the appointment. The fear had become so strong she dare not leave the apartment so in desperation she thankfully accepted the offer of help. At least she would have someone to talk to. In this new city there were no friends to turn to and her parents had died last year leaving her to fend for herself. Perhaps she was having a nervous break down. Why this particular bizarre behaviour? What did it all mean?

Bracing herself she left the apartment determined not to think but her mind went in circles re-hashing the problem over and over again. She drove to a mutually agreed meeting place continuously staring at herself in the mirror. Waiting at the lights she wondered about the phone call but they changed to green and thoughts returned to concentrating on keeping calm. Wrapped up in as many layers of clothing as possible the drive across town was made difficult in the heat. It was with a hopeful expectation that he would have a cure to what was happening that ad given her the courage to leave the apartment. In a crowded carpark she sat glancing in the mirror nervously checking that she was still wearing clothes. He pulled up five spaces away and as agreed she went to his car to talk.

He listened as she recited breathlessly from the memorised list until he interrupted, telling her, "There are several options. One, you sort it out yourself. Going back home might help. Two, wait until I get back from leave and we make arrangements for a series of sessions. Three, I arrange to book you into a clinic. Four, and this is why I asked to meet like this, you come with me now. I'm on leave and can treat you privately with full attention to what for me is a fascinating case." He counted off the options on one hand then spread them out waiting for a decision.

This was all too sudden. "I can't face this alone and I can't wait." She reasoned. "I don't think the company insurance would cover a private clinic. What would you charge? I don't have much money."

"It's an interesting, I'm sorry. I can see it's frightening for you. Can you cook? Well you can look after the house while I write up my notes on existing clients. Understand this before you make a decision. You will place yourself in my hands and obey everything I say. Come with me right now or go back to your car and I'll see you in four weeks time."

Afraid of leaving with this stranger and equally afraid of what might happen in the next few weeks she asked, "Are you sure you can help?"

"I'm sure." He said firmly. He looked at her then scanned the car park seeming concerned.

With a shock she discovered why he was hastily looking around for she was sitting there naked. In shock she sat there in confusion, holding herself stiff, sitting at attention.

"It's up to you. Go back or come with me. Your decision." He stated.

In the back of his car with nothing but a blanket over her they arrived at his home. It was some small comfort to discover he had a luxurious home on the shore of a secluded lake. Walking from the car was less embarrassing than sitting there in the public car park where she had frozen in panic. The thought that she had walked to his car completely naked was terrifying and it still induced a shiver of fear.

On the drive she had calmed herself enough to think the situation through. She didn't know for sure he was a therapist and she was naked in the back of a complete strangers car. It would have been lurid at any other time only it felt reassuring, his positive attitude was desperately needed. It was what she wanted to hear, a cure, and an end to the nightmare. If there was the slightest possibility of a cure it had been the right decision. Besides how could she have returned to her own car?

Shivering with fear in the imposing atrium she wondered what was to happen next. Hearing the heavy front door clamp shut behind made her jump.

"Go upstairs and take a shower while I get you some clothes." He said. When she hesitated he reminded her, "By being here you have agreed to do as you are told, to obey me, so get moving, get a shower."

It was true that was the deal, as unreal as it seemed, that was the situation. "Yes, Sir." She said quit naturally, without thinking it meant an acceptance of his authority. What choice did she have when stay or leave she needed clothes and more than that, she desperately needed his help.

The small room in the attic was well furnished yet there was nothing in any of the cupboards or draws, not a single thing to wear. Back into the room from a refreshing shower she did feel better and the clothes as promised were laid out on the bed. All sorts of perfumes, shampoos, bubble baths and make up were there so it looked as though he planned on her being here for some while. It never occurred to her to wonder how he could have planned ahead when they had just met that morning. It was a typical outfit selected by a man not for a woman but for a tart. It was too low cut and too short. If she had to dress as a tart so be it but she would draw the line at acting like one.

In his study she stood waiting for his attention like an errant maid waiting for a masters reprimand while he read a report. It looked like someone's medical notes. She felt guilty at having taken her clothes off feeling as though she deserved some humiliating punishment. The thought casually drifted into her mind then was quickly banished before the imagination could do something with it.

When he instructed her it was unexpected, although she could not say what was expected, it was certainly not this. She was to serve his dinner this evening and to start she was to lay the dining room table. The place setting looked elegant with shining silver ware, crystal glasses catching the soft light of a chandelier suspended above the long table covered in stiff white cotton. It also looked odd even sad only set for one.

"So far," she said softly, "I haven't lost a single article of clothing and no embarrassing situations to contend with, so far anyway."

"No, please just let me be." Alicia moaned in a barely audible whisper at her reflection in a mirror. A mere glance in passing disclosed the top of her dress had slipped off one shoulder revealing a bare breast. With both hands holding on to a stack of dishes she hurried back to the kitchen to flick the strap back over a shoulder. Obviously the bra had disappeared so she checked yet again to confirm with little surprise, no panties. What was next? Whatever it was she would be blissfully unaware until seeing it in a mirror or some other prompt brought awareness that something was amiss. When the shoulder strap fell to reveal a naked breast she had been obliviously serving this man his dinner. "What is happening to me?" She asked for the hundredth time.

Watching him eat made her feel hungry but had to stand by until dinner had been served. Then she could return to the kitchen to eat. Inspired by the hunger pangs she quickly cleared the table, which was an improvement for she had been too nervous to eat much all week.

Alicia dropped the dishes with a loud crash of breaking china and clattering cutlery. It was the shock of seeing her clothes in a heap on the kitchen floor that elicited a distraught yell.

Brian ran into the kitchen and told her. "Don't move. You'll cut your feet." He grabbed a broom while she stood very still and very naked among the debris.

"We will have to start with some drastic action." He told her. Meekly following he led the way upstairs. Unable to think clearly just wanting to be cured of this terrible malady she gave in to his authority. She lay back on the bed as ordered too scared of the worsening condition to be self conscious, wondering what he had in mind.

"Oh! No! That won't be necessary will it?" Alicia whimpered. Pressing her thighs together she stared with trepidation at what he held in his hands.

"There is no need to be shy. You have displayed yourself publicly and to me this evening. Tomorrow we talk, tonight you will sleep ready for a tough day ahead."

She lay supine trying to distance her mind from what he was doing.

He firmly pulled her legs apart and sprayed foam between her legs. The razor was sharp and so she dare not move. Besides she needed to ignore what he was doing to her privacy. Trying to think about cooking, a recipe came and went through her mind though it was impossible to successfully avoid feeling his fingers pulling at her lips. She sobbed quietly, unable to resist this intrusion upon her body.

"Now then. You are truly naked. Cup your sex with one hand. Grip it tight. It is yours, something private but nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing any young woman hasn't got. You wore the short dress so I could see when you 'lost' your underwear but it is too early to draw conclusions except the obvious. So tomorrow we will have a long chat. Until then you must wear these." He told her.

What he was saying seemed to make sense though the embarrassment left her numb, too overcome to think straight. This was outrageous but if it cured her then anything was worth putting up with. Now he was dressing her. She already felt overtaken by him in the car, since then she had become servile in his home. Now she felt completely dominated, at his mercy.

"Put this on." He told her griping a shoulder as she slipped a leg into a pair of pants. It was a struggle as they were skin-tight rubber; something like a scuba diver wore.

"Oh!" She gasped as he manoeuvred the crotch in place. Feeling something enter her she pulled back from him.

"You must do as I say, remember?" He stated firmly. "This may work otherwise even more drastic action will have to be tried. The device will keep them on." He explained.

'More drastic' didn't sound pleasant so she determined to make this work. It had been bad enough feeling his hands over the lips of her pussy but now he was pushing something into her. Her crotch was still slippery with oil and she had to admit she was ready for it from his touching her. That thought was almost as uncomfortable as the thing intruding.

"Oh!" Alicia squealed. She felt it unexpectedly expand inside. He was pumping it up. Her eyes widened in surprise. Her thighs parted as though to make room for it as she went on tiptoe in an attempt to escape.

"There that's it." The torturer told her. "It's locked in place. You can't take them off without the key." He helped her stand straight. "Try to walk. Take a small step." He instructed.

The thing inside felt huge especially as she was involuntarily gripping it tight. She felt the thing wriggling with every step. In amazement at what she was submitting to she let him guide her out of the room. The effort distracted her from dwelling on the idea she had delivered herself into the hands of a madman.

"You won't be able to pull these off in a hurry." Taking her arm he led her to the stairs.

The thought of descending them was daunting. Every movement was a deep massage. At last they reached the lounge.

"I'll make the coffee. You sit there and we'll see if it works." He said.

That didn't sound reassuring at all. On sitting a sharp intake of breath matched the redness of her face and the stretching of her eyes wide. The pressure of her bottom falling onto the hard dinning room chair pumped air into the already tight phallus. The hideous device was uncomfortable though it was the feeling of it being so stimulating that was so dreadfully uncomfortable. It had all been so quickly done to her it was still a shock. Was this really a legitimate form of therapy? As he returned she suddenly stopped moving on realising she was rocking gently to and fro inflating and deflating the thing inside.

"Here eat this sandwich and drink the coffee." He sat watching her then took the plate and cup from her hands. "That movement probably denotes what has been behind losing your underwear." He said. It was a shock to realise she had been rocking back and forth again, stimulating herself shamelessly in front of him.

Perhaps he was right. She had been fending off young males back home, since her breasts had formed, so much so that it had become a habit. They seemed to want them not her, making it hard to relax with them. She had so little experience of sex and the pressure of losing both parents and moving to a city from a small town, it was all too much. If this dramatic therapy was a quick cure then so be it. They would talk tomorrow, he had promised, and get to the bottom if it. Until then she would be a good girl and do as he said.

"Yes, it's going fine. This one won't take long to train. No! I never reveal the details; it's a trade secret. I'll deliver her in four weeks as promised. I just phoned to say an email is on its way with more photos. Keep them safe. OK. Don't forget the second payment is due by the end of the week." Brian replaced the old fashioned handset upon the receiver. He took a sip of Cognac savouring its smoothness. An early night was called for he would be busy tomorrow.