I avoided my stepdad as much as possible over the following days. Then on Saturday morning when I wandered into the kitchen, he was sitting at the table reading the newspaper. He looked up when I walked in and his eyes passed over my outfit, his lips stretching into a thin line. My heart dropped as I realized I should not have let him see me dressed like this.
I was wearing a crop top that showed off my ample breasts, and tight shorts that hugged my plump ass. I could feel his gaze lingering on my curves, and I squirmed uncomfortably under his scrutiny.
"Good morning, Katie. Do you have a trial shift at Hooters today?" he asked, folding his newspaper and dropping it on the table.
"No," I said, lingering by the door, wanting to get out of there fast.
"Hmm, then why are you dressed like it?" he asked.
"I just thought it was a cute outfit," I said, batting my eyelashes at him, hoping he'd drop the matter and go back to reading the news.
I was wrong. I could see the anger simmering in his eyes. "I thought I made myself clear the other night?"
My heart skipped a beat at the reminder of our spanking session, and a flicker of shameful arousal pulsed through me followed by fear. I shrank back, "Yes, you did," I replied, my voice barely a whisper.
He stood up and stepped toward me. His voice was stern, "Clearly I did not. I think it's time for another lesson."
He strode across the kitchen, grabbed me by the arm, and dragged me back upstairs to my bedroom.
"Rick, calm down please," I said as he shoved me into the middle of the room.
"I am calm, young lady. And you will address me respectfully. Now, I am going to teach you how to dress like a respectable young lady. First of all, let's get rid of this slutty attire."
Before I could move he grabbed hold of my top and tore the garment down the front. My breasts spilled free, naked and exposed before his furious gaze. I moved my hands to cover my modesty.
"Put your hands at your sides!" he shouted.
Trembling with fear, I complied, my cheeks blushing with embarrassment.
"Not. Even. Wearing. A. Bra," he said slowly. Angrily. "You know what. You want to dress like a whore? Fine. I'll teach you another way. Take off those shorts. Take it all off."
"I'm not going to strip in front of you," I protested.
"You don't have a choice. If you're not naked in the next two minutes you'll feel my belt on your backside," he warned.
"I'm 18, you can't treat me like this," I whined, even though it hadn't worked last time he'd disciplined me.
"That's a minute and a half now," he said.
I could see he was dead serious and hurriedly began unbuttoning my shorts and stripping them off, followed by my panties. Naked, I stood in the middle of my room, feeling more exposed than I had in my entire life. I stood there, completely naked, my arms crossed protectively over my breasts. His gaze moved over my curvaceous body, the hunger in his eyes unmistakable. I felt so powerless and exposed, my face flushing with arousal and shame.
He reached out and pinched my nipple hard enough to make me groan. "Fucking little whore. I bet you love being naked like that, don't you? Eh?"
Without waiting for an answer he turned and pulled open my wardrobe. He rifled through my clothes until he pulled out a fishnet crop top and tossed it at me.
"Put that on," he barked, already rummaging around again.
"This is to go over another top. I can't wear it alone it's completely see-through," I said, holding it up as if he needed a second look.
"You like dressing like a slut, so dress like a slut," he replied. He pulled out a small black skirt, the kind that was light enough to blow up in the wind. "That too," he added, throwing it at me.
"I need underwear," I said. There was no way I was going to walk around the house dressed like that for him. I'd sooner stay naked, somehow that seemed more dignified.
"No, you don't. Now get dressed before I resort to a more physical punishment." His hand landed on his belt buckle and I swallowed hard. Even though I had managed to derive some pleasure from the spanking he'd given me the other night, I doubted I'd enjoy the huge metal buckle colliding with my supple flesh.
Without another word of protest, I pulled on the garments he'd chosen from and I looked at my shameful reflection in the mirror. At least the skirt covered my ass and pussy. The top was pointless. If anything it drew more attention to my breasts.
I looked back at Rick, trying to gauge his reaction. He was staring at me, one eyebrow raised. He strode towards me and moved his hands to my hips, the heat of his body making me shiver.
"As I said, if you're going to dress like a slut you'd best learn to do it right. Let's go into town and do a bit of shopping," he said.
"Rick, you cannot be serious!" I said, on the verge of shouting. Somebody I knew might see me like this. Hell, I didn't even want strangers to see me in this poor excuse for an outfit.
"Excuse me?" he said, eyebrow raised.
"I mean, I can't go out like this, Sir," I said, making my tone more compliant.
"Now she shows some modesty. Too late. We are going out even if I have to drag you kicking and screaming like a naughty little girl," he said.
I followed him downstairs, feeling so exposed and ashamed. I wanted to run back to my room and hide away. I practically ran to his car and sat low in the seat the whole drive into town.
When we arrived he handed me a credit card and told me not to come out of the store unless I had at least three pieces of clothing that befitted a young lady. He said if they didn't meet his standards then my punishment would be extended.
I hurried into the store, mortified at the looks I got when I entered. There were teenagers and old men who leered at my nakedness. There was a middle-aged woman who tutted loudly and made a comment about the youth of today as she passed me. With each step I took I felt more eyes burning into me and soon enough I started to feel a small tingle.
I couldn't believe it but I was getting turned on by all the attention. There was something almost liberating about being out in public in such a revealing outfit. Still, I knew that I had to stick to the task at hand and find clothing that Rick would approve of.
I took the items straight to the till and dumped them on the counter, eager to pay and get back in the car. The sales clerk, a skinny man in his fifties, looked up at me, his eyes bulging at the sight of my outfit.
"We have a no-returns policy so I hope you tried them on," he said. He lifted the first dress without even looking at it. His eyes were glued to my breasts. My stiff nipples poked through the netting of my top.
"I didn't try them on but that's okay, I'm sure they'll fit," I said, placing Rick's credit card on the counter to try and hurry him along.
"Oh, no. No, no no," the man said, shaking his head. "I must insist that you try them on. Come on!"
He walked around the counter, scooped up the items I'd chosen, and then led me by the arm to the changing rooms at the back of the store. I walked in, my shame escalating with each step, but glad to be away from the prying eyes of the other shoppers. The clerk followed me in and closed the door behind us.
'What are you doing?" I demanded.
"Take off your clothes," he said. He began laying out the three dressed I'd chosen on the bench.
"You can wait outside," I told him, crossing my arms over my chest, hiding my breasts from his lingering gaze.
