My alarm shocked me into consciousness. At first I didn't understand why it had gone off on the weekend, and then I remembered. Today was the first day of bitch training. I dragged myself out of bed and into the shower.
After dressing, I headed in to the office, pulling in to the parking lot at 09:15. Sandy's BMW was the only car in there, and I deliberately didn't park too close to it.
"I've been here since nine, sir," she said as I waltzed in. She was sitting waiting at my desk.
"Good for you," I said. "Now stand up so I can take a look at you."
She stood up, and her gray skirt came down past her knees. She was wearing a dark red blouse, and low black heels.
"Take your skirt off," I told her.
"Can we go in my office, sir?"
"If I wanted you in your office, don't you think I'd have told you to go in your office?"
She looked at the door, then unzipped her skirt. She dropped it to the floor and stepped out of it, then picked it up, folded it and put it over the back of my chair.
"I hate pantyhose."
She kicked off her shoes, then struggled to peel her hose down and stepped out of them.
"Trash can," I said.
"But I need to wear them home," she said, "Billy saw me leave in them."
"So tell him you caught them on something. Do I have to think of everything? Trash, then turn around so I can see you."
She dropped her hose in the can by my desk, then turned all the way around. Her panties were dull, white cotton.
"Take them off."
She blushed red, but pulled them down and stepped out of them, standing there with her hairy bush.
"Trash."
"But somebody might see them!"
"Somebody might see them, sir. And I don't care. Trash."
She dropped them in the can.
"Blouse."
She unbuttoned the blouse, and pulled her arms out of it. Taking it off, she carefully draped it over the back of my chair on top of her skirt. She had an ugly white bra on.
"God that's ugly. Take it off."
She reached behind her and unhooked it.
"Trash," I said as she pulled it off her arms.
She was hesitant.
"Trash. Now."
She dropped it in the trash can, and stood there naked. She clasped her hands in front of her.
"Stand up straight. Shoulders back, arms by your sides."
She did it.
"I can see you've got work to do," I told her. "You're going to start losing weight. You're going to get a sports bra and yoga pants, no, scratch that, shorts. I want you doing squats and lunges, then going for a run at lunchtime. You're skipping lunch, as I want you to tighten that body up. Now come here."
I had her sit at my desk, then I walked around her, taking pictures with my new phone. The pictures looked pretty good in the screen, and were sharp even after zooming in a fair amount. We ended up with a picture of her sitting at everybody's desk, including hers, naked, pretending to work.
"OK," I said after a while. "Get dressed and we'll go shopping."
"Can I wear my underwear?"
"No," I said, "it's too ugly."
She pulled her blouse over her shoulder and buttoned it up, then slid her skirt up her legs. Finally she put on her shoes.
"You're driving," I said, heading for the door.
She locked the office as I don't have a key, then we walked over to her car. Getting in, I told her to drive to a mall about 20 miles away. She was relieved, as she was unlikely to run in to anybody she knew there. Off we went.
"Undo your top button," I said. "And move your knees apart."
Without taking her eyes off the road, she undid the button.
"Another one."
She undid another one, so now you could see the tops of her tits. She glanced down at them, then went back to driving.
"Pull your skirt up a bit," I said. I wanted to see what length we should aim for.
She shifted around and pulled it to about an inch above her knees.
"Higher."
She pulled it about two inches above her knees.
"Higher."
Three inches. I figured that was probably as high as she could get away with at work.
"Higher."
Four inches. Yes, too short for the office. But still...
"Higher."
Her skirt was now just covering her pussy. She didn't have bad looking legs, really. We were nearing the mall, so I left her alone. She parked near the door, but on the third level. There weren't that many people around. She went to pull her skirt back down.
"Leave it," I said.
She sighed and opened her door. I'm sure anybody in the right place would have had quite the show, but there wasn't anybody there to see her. No matter, she was still embarrassed.
As she stepped out, gravity intervened, and them hem of her skirt dropped to below her knees.
I got out, and she locked the car before we headed inside. I led, she slouched along behind me like a surly teenager who doesn't want to be there. We went into a department store, and headed for the women's clothing. We went through the aisles, with me choosing and handing her several skirts of different lengths for her to try on, then headed for a changing room.
"One at a time," I said, sitting down in the waiting area, "and bring them out to show me."
She went off to the changing room, and came out in the longest skirt. It was about two inches above her knees.
"It's tight around the waist," she said.
"Show me."
She untucked her blouse, and showed me the muffin top at her waist.
"That's OK," I said, "you're losing weight, remember?"
She sighed.
"Give us a twirl," I said, and watched as she turned around.
She went back to her changing room, and after a minute, came back out with the medium skirt on. This was about three to four inches above her knees. This was probably about as short as I thought she could get away with at the moment. She gave me a twirl.
"Sit here a second," I said, gesturing at the seat next to me. The hem came up another inch or so when she sat down.
"Off you go."
She stood up and went back to her changing room, just as another couple arrived. He sat down, she headed off with an armful of clothes.
Sandy came back out with the shortest skirt on. It was a good six inches above her knees. She didn't look happy about it. I twiddled my fingers to get her to twirl, and she did.
"It's too short," she hissed at me.
"Oh, I don't know," I said. "Turn around and bend over so we can see."
The guy sitting next to me was suddenly paying attention. Sandy looked at him, then looked at me. I nodded slightly, with a stony look on my face.
She turned away from us, and bent over slightly. The hem came up a bit.
"Further," I said.
She bent slightly further, revealing more of her thighs.
"A bit further."
She bent further, so her body was at about ninety degrees to her legs. I could just see the bottom of her cheeks. As could the guy sitting next to me.
"Stay there a sec," I told her, then turned to the guy.
"What do you think? I asked him, "Too short?"
"Oh no," he whispered, I think his voice failing him.
"Off you go then," I told her, and she straightened up and scurried back to her changing room.
She came back with her skirts, as the guy's wife was showing him a dress, and I got up and we went back to the skirt section.
"Choose a couple of colors in the medium ones, and a couple of the shorter ones," I said. "Then we can look at shoes."
She picked business colors, gray, black, dark blue, of each skirt, then we headed off to pay. At the register, she looked at me, and I looked at her blankly, so she got her purse out and paid for her new skirts.
"I think you should wear one of the short ones," I said.
"I thought we were looking for shoes, sir."
"Yes, but you won't be wearing them with that long skirt, will you?"
"The changing rooms are way back over there," she whined, pointing back the way we'd come.
"You're right," I said. "You can use the bathrooms."
We were headed now or less that way anyway, so I diverted her over there. When we got to the doors, I took her hand and pulled her into the men's bathroom. She put up a bit of a struggle as she saw where I was taking her, then gave up and went along with it.
There was nobody in there.
"Go on then," I told her, pointing my phone at her while she stood by the urinals.
"But what if somebody comes in?"
"The longer you stand there, the more likely that becomes," I told her.
She pulled the black short skirt out of the bag, and pulled the tag off it, then unzipped her skirt and dropped it to the floor, stepping out of it and straight into the new skirt. Zipped up, she bent and collected the old skirt, and put it in the bag.
"There you go," I said, "that wasn't too bad, now was it?"
"Can we go?"
I headed to the door, and the outer door opened as we got to it. The guy coming through looked puzzled when he saw Sandy, but I just grinned at him and headed out.
As we got closer to the shoe store, Sandy was starting to hold back.
"What's wrong? I thought women loved shopping for shoes."
"Look," she said, "you've had your fun. I've bought what you wanted me to, and showed that guy my bum. But I don't want to go and try on shoes in this short a skirt. People might be able to see up it."
