Julie's Christmas Tasks

I stand unsteadily beside the bed.

"But Sir, Gemma will laugh at me."

You are not at all pleased at my objecting.

"That is the whole point Julie. You know you are not allowed to question me like that. When you go downstairs you are to ask your mum to smack your sore bottom with the hairbrush."

"Yes Sir, I'm sorry Sir."

And the naked, punished girl makes her way downstairs thinking of the back of that hairbrush on her already very sore, red bottom.

To Doyle:

Task Six

I am due to go home to my flat tomorrow so just now when I was in the bathroom I went through the laundry basket. This was such a simple matter but deeply humiliating as your task has reduced me to a little sneak thief doing something normally reserved for men in grubby raincoats. My sister seems to like thongs and the first one which I found was in shocking pink with roughed trimming. I felt sure that Gemma would miss this item so I temporarily left it on the floor while I inspected the next item. This was pale blue satin trimmed in black and very sexy; I wonder how familiar Pete is with this item. I rejected the blue thong for the same reason as the first one and selected a simple thong in deep purple then I put all the laundry back in the bin putting my selected item in the pocket of my robe.

Back in my room I stripped naked then slipped on my sister's used thong. I found this particularly disgusting but I made myself do it. As you can imagine the thong has a distinct smell of musk to it. Once attired in Gemma's intimate garment I lay belly down on the carpet with my hands under my pussy as I sometimes did when I lived at home.

My hands were pressing into myself as I began to grind into the floor with the smell of carpet filling my nostrils and the taste of dust in my mouth. My bum was going up and down and I tried to imagine what I would look like to anyone who happened to open the bedroom door at this moment. Of course my pussy muscles were clenching and unclenching and my breathing was becoming laboured but still my efforts continued and now two fingers were invading my moist slit and pressing against the soft damp flesh with all its very sensitive and active nerve endings.

When I masturbate my imagination always goes into overdrive and I imagined men in white coats loading me, half naked as I was, into the back of their van to be taken to The Enclosure. Once there I found myself in a white tiled room smelling of disinfectant under bright lights which showed up every fold of flesh. I was in a world of jangling keys and crashing cell doors where my hair would be brutally cropped landing in a heap on the floor. Rough hands groped at my flesh as they forced me along cold passages towards my fate.

Eventually the dam broke and I fell limp, still on my belly, totally spent.

It was some time before I even had the energy to get myself into bed where I lay desperately hoping that Professor Doyle would be satisfied with my humiliation of myself. I know from past experience that you will not give me the answer to that quickly; you will leave me to stew knowing that with every day that passes I become more tense and unable to think straight.

Please don't send me away to the place that bad girls go. I will be a good girl for you. I will honest.