You are led into a brightly-lit room, squinting until your eyes adjust. The door slams shut behind you, in a startling thud. A sudden feeling of aloneness becomes you.
Your eyes scan the strange environment, first focusing on a metallic steel table in the roomâs center, bright reflections of light bouncing off in all directions. Your instantly uneasy as to its purpose.
You stand on a small yellow line, which runs about two feet long, just in front of the table. Your eyes scan upwards at the two cameras pointing down, small red lights blinking. Your reflection suddenly catches your eye, when you move in front of a small mirror, on the far wall. You've seen enough cop shows on TV to know that it isnât there for you to do your hair and make up. Feeling of loneliness gone now, its replaced with an uneasy nervousness, as you suddenly feel like a fish, swimming in a small fishbowl.
You are drawn to the ominous steel table, as much as you donât want to, you reach out and touch the tables surface, shivers run down your spine, just from the coldness, while its smoothness is your next observation. You contemplate sitting, but opt for leaning as you nervously wait.
Time seems painfully slow as your mind races back to the events that led you to this point. There was the office party, the couple glasses of wine, the missed red light, the blue lights, the young deputy, the botched field sobriety test, the pleas of innocents, the not so quick pat down, the cold cuffs, the cramped back seat, the pleas for mercy.
Your mind suddenly shifts its focus to your husband, your two kids, your best friends, your boss, your coworkers, even your favorite high school teacher. Suddenly a judge appears before your eyes and pronounces your guilt. Your eyes shift around and their all there, their faces filled with disappointment. A feeling of deep shame floods through your body, tears well in your eyes, you curse your stupidity, over and over.
Time drags on and you do your best to regain your composer. The black door suddenly swings open and the young deputy returns, carrying a clipboard. You take one last chance to pronounce your innocents, but he ainât buying it and you can only assume that he has heard it all before, even at his tender age.
Your eyes find that yellow line on the floor, only now youâve been instructed to stand on it. Feet in place you nervously stare at the young man as he leans against the steel table now, only a couple of feet away.
Your eyes meet, you can hardly breath from fear, fear of the unknown. He barks a simple five-letter command that sends shivers down your spine, as your worse fears are realized. You canât move, itâs as if you donât understand the simple words meaning, but your an educated woman, you even know a couple of ways that Webster defines it as. You now it means to deprive of possessions or to divest of honors, privileges, or functions. But deep down you know how he really means to use the word, which is to remove clothing, covering, or surface matter from.
And that From is You.
The deputy snaps to attention, startling you even more, as he again orders you to Strip. You plead your case one more time, but you know its futile. You look down at your outfit, instantly wishing you werenât dressed to party. It suddenly dons on you to ask for a female deputy, surely he didnât except you to disrobe in front of him, you plead, almost proud of yourself for thinking of it. His only response is unsettling, seems there not a female to be found, no he wants you naked alright, naked for his eyes and right now.
You stand your ground, until he brings up the sheriff, which shakes your bones, as you know all to well about his reputation. Your hands quickly slip off your best vest and hand it over to the deputy. You watch as he quickly searches it, and simple drops it on the cement floor. If he knew how much it costs he wouldnât be so carefree with it, you remind him, but he just chuckles.
You know youâve only just begun, but you canât stop from shaking, as a bead of sweat drops from your forehead. The deputyâs tapping foot and hungry blue eyes arenât helping. After contemplating your next move, you unzip your skirt and let it slip down your legs, carefully stepping out of it, before handing it to the deputy, and it too is dumped on the cement floor. Your blood is starting to boil, as he awaits your next move, still tapping his foot on the floor.
You reach up to the top button on your red silk blouse, itâs color matching your cheeks. Your hands tremble, making the simple task, difficult. One button and then the next, all while knowing how exposed this is going to leave you to his waiting eyes. You also canât help but to think of how many other set of unseen eyes are on your strip show as well. You muster up all your courage, and spread the two halves open. After your given the command, you quickly slide your arms out of it and hand it over. He just treats your fancy blouse like a rag, balling it up, before tossing it down. Your eyes focus longingly at your growing pile of discarded clothes, now strewn on the dirty floor.
His eyes return and you instinctively cover your body with your arms, as you realize your underwear selection of a small frizzy peach colored bra, small matching panties, garter-belt and white mesh thigh high stockings, were meant for your husbandâs eyes and not his. You feel your fancy heeled shoes are too sexy for your currents dilemma, but he wants them on.
He suddenly starts barking orders like a drill sergeant and you reluctantly follow. You soon find your hands interlocked behind your head, elbows back, legs shoulder width apart. You can only pray itâs over.
Your heart pounds as he slowly circles you like prey. He complements your bra selection, as he runs his fingers under the straps. You squirm from his smooth touch and his slimy personality. You watch him carefully as he moves in front of you. Your face flushed with embarrassment as he pulls the front of your bra away from your breasts, like he wanted a sneak preview, before he asks, rather rudely, for you to remove it.
Anger envelops you as you plead your case, and you resist the slap in the face that you yearn to deliver. Guys have been trying to see your tits since you were a teenager, and at 35 you still haven't got used to their hungry eyes devouring them, seemingly always focused on them. You notice heâs no different, when you unsnap your front latch and slid it off.
Your bra joins the pile, as you cover your naked breasts with your hands, trying to retain some modesty, although you know by the look on his face that he has seen the pose before. Your hands are back behind your head in no time, your breasts on full display to the young manâs eyes. Your erect pink nipples add to your embarrassment, but it only gets worse, as your are soon lifting your breasts up by them. Then following another command you start shaking them back and forth, while leaning forward. His actions so juvenile to you, your only surprised he didnât make you jump up and down.
Back in position, you join him and look down at your source of embarrassment. Your usually proud of your ample breasts, but unlike many, you took more pride in the fact that you had made it this far in your career without using your ample breasts to your advantage. Today, you wish you were flat as a board.
You now wish you had left the garter-belt and stockings at home, as well, as his eyes shift to your lower body, but he wants the panties next. You had prayed that when he saw your breasts, it would be over, but deep down you knew that he wouldnât be satisfied until he saw all of you, all of you naked.
You pull the thin bows that hold your delicate panties together. You suddenly feel like a virgin again, as the feeling of taking off your panties, your last line of defense, is unnerving. You look to him for mercy, but he is anxiously waiting for them, hand extended. You sniffle like a scolded child, as he barks at you, and you hand them over. Your hands immediately take there place, but not for long as they are behind your head, once again. You cringe as you slowly turn your body around for him, every side, every angle, all his for the taking, all because he wears a badge.
Itâs time for his next command. You have to unhook your garter belt from each stocking and then roll them down each leg, not really getting the straight legs command, until you feel your breasts swaying heavily from your chest. Before you can react, you have a small feeling of relief come over you, as you are ordered to roll your stockings back up, and re-attach them, as you figure this is the start of your redressing processes.
Your relief is short lived however, as his next command startles you. You canât believe your ears! He wants you, up on all fours, on the steel table, like a puppy dog. He even snaps his fingers at you. You just shake your head, whimpering, until a sharp slap to the ass, sends you scurrying. Itâs like out of your worst nightmare, you are now under his thumb. Your higher education, your status, now all meaningless.