Cindy's Strict Mother

Dear Police Officer,

I'm just writing this letter to thank you for showing my twenty-year-old daughter Cindy that police officers can totally be trusted. It all started when Cindy and I were riding around in my convertible. Cindy's dress was blowing in the wind, so she was distracted trying to keep it from uncovering her panties while at the same time trying to keep the top of the dress from falling off her bra. You and your partner got behind us and thought she was signaling you, so you turned on your lights and pulled us over. You walked over to her side of the car and inquired as to if everything was okay. You said she smelled like pot, so she had to step out of the car. Thankfully you said I was fine. I wonder why she would smell like pot. She's never so much as smoked a cigarette.

Anyway, you said she would have to be frisked. She put her hands on the back of the car and you both took turns patting her down. It seems like women generally hide things in their bras, their panties, and their legs. That's where your hands were most of the time anyway. You also undid the ribbon that held her hair in a neat little ponytail. Both of you checked her hair several times by running your fingers through it. My daughter also gasped every time you had to check her little panty clad crotch. The poor thing is so sensitive.

After about four or five minutes of you both frisking my daughter, you announced that there might be something hidden in her dress and that she would have to take it off. My daughter groaned and asked if there was a female officer that could do this sort of thing. Being the professionals you were, you radioed in, but the nearest female officer was three minutes away. I let all three of you know that we didn't have all day. Cindy began to fumble with the buttons on her dress, so I told you to undress her yourselves. You were kind enough to undo the buttons yourselves, and you were very slow as to not intimidate her. Once her dress was safely in my lap, you both gave her bra covered breasts a quick check, as well as each butt cheek, and another check of her crotch. Passing men were kind enough to honk and wave. I waved back and explained to her it was a compliment and that they thought she was pretty. She hid her face in her hands, but I think deep down she was appreciative.

Once that was all straightened out, you took a quick frontal mug shot and side profile shot on your cell phones and told us we were free to go. Cindy asked if she could put her dress back on, but I told her we were going to be late for her therapy appointment. So, I had her give you each a kiss on the lips and we were on our way.

Keep protecting our community,

Cindy's Strict Mother

Dear Therapist,

I wanted to send a quick thank you for your promptness in seeing my daughter, Cindy. She's been boo hooing ever since I've gotten strict with her when she turned twenty. Immediately once we got in, Cindy made silly requests about preferring a female therapist and not wanting me in the room. Ridiculous. I'm her mother! She is the most important thing in my world! You weren't having any of it, though. I thank you for that. You did, however, ask if there was an issue of comfort with you. She said there was, so you told her to sit on your lap. Once she was on your lap, you rested your hand on her thigh. It was all very paternal and comforting.

She immediately started in with crocodile tears and saying that she was so embarrassed by how many men had seen her underwear. She also accused me of making her wear very revealing outfits. You noted that her dress had a very low neckline and short hem. You asked if I had picked that outfit for her. She nodded. You asked if that particular dress made her feel uncomfortable. She said it did. You immediately began to unbutton her dress. When she asked what you were doing, you stated that the dress made her uncomfortable, so for the remainder of the session she would be in her underwear to make her feel more at ease. She groaned and murmured 'Not again' as you undressed her. Once the offending dress was safe and sound in my lap, we discussed other things.

She mentioned how none of the other girls at the college get spanked by their professors. You asked if her grades had improved. I said they had. She then said she didn't feel like it was appropriate for her to kiss men on the mouth as a way of saying 'thank you.' You inquired as to whether or not these men would roll their tongues against her tongue. She said sometimes they did. You told her to do to his tongue what they do to hers. She looked shocked, but I reminded her that he can't fix the problem if he doesn't know what the problem is. She went ahead and kissed you and pushed her tongue into your mouth. I think you pushed your tongue back into hers just to make sure you understood what was going on. You then told her that a kiss is, in many cultures, an appropriate greeting or thanking gesture.

Then she complained that men had been touching her bottom as she walks by them. You asked how they were touching her bottom. You had her stand up and asked her if it was a slap (and you slapped her), a slap (slap), or a squeeze. When you squeezed her bottom cheek, I think you mistakenly got a little bit of her crotch too. That's just judging by how she jumped and yelped. She said the men were doing all three and it happened all the time. You assured her that it's basically just a gentleman's way of saying hello to a pretty young lady (which I told her already).

She had a few other complaints, but you generally reinforced the motherly advice I've been giving her since she turned twenty. She isn't a bad young lady, but boy can she make herself the victim. To hear her tell it, you'd think I'VE been doing something wrong.

I would like to set up more sessions, perhaps once a week, until we've hammered this whole thing out.

Thank you,

Cindy's Strict Mother

Dear Orchestra Professor,

I just wanted to thank you for a memorable Christmas (I mean Holiday) Concert. My daughter, Cindy, is your harp player. When she told me she needed a black dress for the concert, she told me she wanted it past the knee. But as we all know; the harp is best played between the knees. I bought her a tight little cocktail dress. She was concerned the straps were a little flimsy, but she has such a breathtaking figure, and her B cup breasts are so small I thought it would be fine.

Generally, the harpist is off to the side or in the back. But you had her right out in front, right on the edge of the stage. I secretly believe it's because she's such a lovely young girl, but that's just a mother's biased opinion. As she sat, she kept tugging at the hem of her dress. I could see why. Everyone in the whole auditorium could see her little purple cotton panties! But you hit her arm with your baton and ordered her not to worry about it. She played so beautifully; half the auditorium was taking videos with their phones. And every time she would try to adjust the hem of her dress, which did rise considerably through the show, you would hit her on the arm again and remind her to focus on her music.

Then something happened that I thought sure would break her concentration. The strap of her dress fell to her waist, unveiling the right cup of her little polka dot cotton bra. She immediately went to stop playing and fix the strap, but a tap on the arm was all she needed. And the band played on. She kept fixing the strap between songs, but that darn strap just wouldn't stay up. But her music was lovely. By the end of the concert, every guest in the auditorium was filming her on their phones. I've even seen the videos popping up on the college's social media.

Here's a picture I took of her playing to remember her by. I know how professors appreciate this kind of thing from their students.

Looking forward to next year,

Cindy's Strict Mother