The Naked Paralegal Ch. 02

Your heels clicked loudly on the lobby floor. Although the space seemed to be empty--and lowly lit--you had no interest in attracting any unwanted attention. Hell, given your current outfit no attention of any kind would be wanted. You looked up--looking down nearly made you ill-- remembering that you had to cross the entire lobby to get to your intended destination. As you approached the security desk you found yourself grateful that it was unmanned. The next thought came with a whimper: If only the custodial staff went home as early.

After all, it was a custodian who was the primary cause of your slow and terrified walk across the lobby. Your slow, terrified, and totally nude walk across the lobby, your heels (still clicking loudly) the only covering you had on any inch of your body. This wasn't completely true, as your left hand was directly in front of your bare pussy and your right arm was draped strategically across your bare breasts. However, your ass--although well-toned--was completely exposed. As you finally passed the security desk, you could imagine the guard leering at you as you passed by him stark naked.

'I'm not even carrying my ID,' you thought. Looking down for a moment, you tried to joke with yourself: 'Where would I have put it?'

Your brain was racing, and you kept going over how you got yourself into this situation. Though, you weren't entirely to blame, you tried convincing yourself. True, you had decided to seduce your boss when it was only you and he working late that evening. And yes, you had stripped down to your birthday suit at your cubicle, bringing only your thong (which you had held in your hand) as you proceeded into his office, your heels your only covering (showing off to your boss the same non-outfit you had now been in for almost an hour). And finally, you had loved how much he enjoyed looking at your naked tits and pussy, and you really loved sucking and fucking him in his chair while he remained dressed under your very nude body.

But you weren't the one who decided to take all your clothes, leaving you scurrying naked underneath your desk when you went to find them after your boss left. You weren't the one who had left you a humiliating choice: Streak across the lobby to beg the woman who had stolen every scrap of clothing you had to return them to you or drive yourself home totally naked. As you had made your way across the office to the lobby door you had frantically checked every desk for a jacket or sweater or something. But nobody had left you anything.

And your boss hadn't been any help either.

After rereading the email from the custodian Marisa--a woman you had treated poorly and who now had all your clothes in her office--you had picked up your desk phone and called your boss. He had walked out only a few minutes earlier and had probably not driven far from the office yet. Since he really liked you--and since you had just fucked him silly--you figured he'd be happy to help.

"Mr. Daniels, it's Lisa," you spoke hurriedly into the phone when he answered his cell, as you cradled the phone between your cheek and shoulder so you could use your arms and hands to cover yourself.

"Ah, how is my favorite gorgeous assistant this evening?" he jokingly asked, as though he hadn't left you sprawled and nude at your desk a few minutes earlier, a time when you both thought that it was the greatest evening ever.

"Naked," you replied, your bare nipples hard against your arm and your pussy dripping on the hand that covered it.

"As you should be," he chuckled. For a second your heart stopped as you thought he had arranged this, but then you realized he thought you were still just playing out the fantasy from earlier.

"No, sir, I'm really totally naked at my desk. My clothes are all gone," you added, very quietly. "I went to get them from under my desk but only my purse was there. I'm stuck here, totally naked, at our office."

"That's too bad," he replied, "but you'd better get used to it." Then he lowered his voice. "Oh, Lisa, you are so incredible, this is so wonderful. I can't wait for tomorrow."

You began to realize he was lost in the fantasy and that he thought you were too. You added a final tone of desperation. "Please, sir, come back to the office and bring me something to wear. Anything. I'll do whatever you want, I just can't go home like this. At least bring me back my underwear. I'm totally and completely nude, I can't walk out like this. Please, I'm begging you." And you were.

But he didn't get it. "I'm sorry, Ms. Babson, I did tell you that you'd be working nude from here on in, and that if you complained about it then you'd force me to make you go home naked tonight as well." He had said all that, but at the time you were grinding on top of him with him deep inside you, both of you lost in the heat of the moment. A moment he was clearly still in.

"I need to get home, Ms. Babson," he said, trying to play the boss-fantasy for one moment longer. "I expect to see you tomorrow bright and early. And I expect to see you in the same outfit you are in now. Goodnight." And with that, he disconnected the call.

At which point your heart nearly broke as you realized that unless you faced Marisa soon he would see you bright and early tomorrow morning in the exact same outfit you were wearing now: your black heels and nothing else.

All of which brought you to the present moment, now just steps away from the closed door of the brightly lit custodial office that was discreetly located in an alcove off the lobby. You looked back over your shoulder at the lobby--a giant space you had just traversed entirely in the nude. You tried to take comfort in the fact you had the courage to have made it here, the place where your clothes were supposed to be. You didn't want to think of what would happen if they weren't there.

The door in front of you had the words "CUSTODIAL OFFICE" stenciled on the glass. Looking past the letters you could see the office was empty--no Marisa. You moved your hand away from your bare pussy to try the door knob, which for a second you considered could be locked and that you could have been played for a fool yet again.

But the door swung open, quietly, and you stepped into the brightly fit front room, recovering your bare snatch with your hand. Your heart was pounding wildly as you tried to listen for sounds from the back rooms. You heard nothing and wondered-- for the first time--had Marisa already left... and if so, had she taken your clothes with her? Giving up any pretense of modesty, you started running around the front room, looking under the desks and in drawers to see if you could find any covering, yours or otherwise.

You were squatting in front of an old desk--your legs spread wide and your pussy still dripping on the grayish carpet--when you heard a voice behind your back.

"Hey, Ms. Babson, good to see ya," the voice said. It was clearly gloating. You closed your eyes as you prepared to face your tormentor clad only in your birthday suit. You used your hands to get you standing again, but as you turned you threw an arm across your breasts and a hand in front of your pussy.

Marisa was leaning carelessly in the doorway that led to the backrooms (storage and supply rooms, you thought) her arms folded across her chest and a huge smile on her face. She was clad in her blue custodial outfit--a button down with a name-tag and pants--and was taking you in in all your glory. For the first time you noticed she was probably about your age. It had been a long time since another woman (besides your doctor) had seen you like this (there had been one evening with a friend in college) and you cringed as you realized that your pussy was beginning to drip again.

"I really liked the view when I first walked in," she continued, "watching you spread it in front of that desk. Nice ass. But this side looks pretty good, too. Just drop the hands... after all, it's just us girls." She said this all casually, as if stark naked paralegals walked into her office all the time.

"Oh, c'mon," she said when you hadn't moved. "I don't swing like that. I just like the idea of miss high-and-mighty standing here in my office displaying all her goods for the world to see. You know you want to keep me happy right now. I doubt you'll be seeing any of those clothes of yours again if I'm not."

You couldn't believe this woman--who you thought of as 'only a custodian'--was doing this to you. You were better than her: better educated, better looking (although you did notice she had a pretty face, and might have a good body when not hidden under the custodial outfit), better at getting guys ('Right,' you thought, 'since the last guy I fucked had decided to leave me stuck here stark naked'), better at a lot of things. But you weren't sure that was true; after all, how could you be better than her when she was standing there properly dressed while you were covering your very naked body in her office?

And a moment later you weren't even covering yourself, as you dropped your hands and arms to your side. You were now showing her the exact same view you had showed your boss an hour ago (was it really only an hour?), although at that time you had had your thong in your hand. 'Why had I let him take that, too?' you wondered.

"Wow, those are really nice," Marisa commented, describing your breasts as though she was a bidder at some slave auction. "They're definitely real. And those nips, very perky." Of course your nipples were still hard as rocks, and had been ever since your striptease earlier.

"A landing strip, huh?" she continued, now taking in your bare pussy. "Figured you for a Brazilian chick."

You found your voice. "I thought you didn't swing that way," you said, your natural tendency to argue overcoming more intelligently leaning toward prudent behavior, given the circumstances. "Yet you've been imagining me naked?"

Marisa seemed to enjoy your momentary confidence. "Ever since I found that pile under your desk I've been wondering what you'd look like when you finally scampered in here. Although I had actually thought you might be wearing some panties, since I hadn't found any of those. Then, once I'd got you to strip those off too I figured you'd be totally bare from eyes to toes."

"Guess I saved you the trouble of 'stripping those off me too'," you commented snidely, annoyed by how much control this woman thought she had over you. And then you looked down and remembered: She did have total control over you.

"Don't think of me as a monster, Ms. Babson," Marisa responded, with no malice. Her tone of voice caught you by surprise. "I'm just a lady who found herself a nice opportunity. A successful professional leaves all her clothes outside while she's in her boss's office, fucking the shit out of him. Don't look surprised I knew that, it was the screaming coming from his office that got me to walk back to your desk. Now I know the successful professional has no interest in walking out of this office in her birthday suit. Which, I do have to say, is a very nice looking suit on you." Another grin with that last line.

"So I wondered what the successful professional might be willing to do to get some of those clothes back," Marisa concluded. You didn't like her use of 'some of those clothes,' since it indicated that she would not be returning your full complement of garments. Regardless, whatever you got would only come after you 'did something for her.'

"Do you want money?" you asked. "I have money in my purse, back at my desk. I didn't bring it with me," you added, somewhat foolishly.

"Or anything else," Marisa remarked, once again taking in your naked form. Every time she did that your pussy gushed a little--you could only pray that she didn't notice.

"No," Marisa sighed, "I don't want your money. I don't want to take anything else from you. Actually, that's not true."

You cringed in response.

"Your heels are nice," she commented. "I've always wanted a pair like that." She looked at you expectantly.

You cursed under your breath and she chucked a little. You reached down and slipped off the right shoe, using the desk you had been in front of earlier to steady you. You repeated the action with the left shoe, leaving the pair on the floor. Your returned your arms to your side as you knew she wanted you to.

Marisa straightened up from the doorway and walked over to you, a distance of a few feet. She leaned down to pick up the shoes, which briefly put her eye-level with your bare pussy. She straightened up and then looked inside the shoes.

"Oh, my feet will never fit in these," she noted. "Maybe I'll give them to my sister." You looked down and noticed that Marisa had small feet--probably smaller than yours--enclosed in sneakers. She turned around and carelessly threw the shoes through the doorway and into one of the back rooms. You wondered if that was where she was hiding the rest of your clothes.

You felt very strange standing in your bare feet, as though your heels had helped you maintain some semblance of control. You remembered thinking earlier that a professional woman always wears heels. Which meant you were no longer a professional woman. You were a scared little girl now, a scared and very naked little girl, who didn't even have shoes. Your purse was back at your desk, far across the lobby and the offices beyond. You truly felt that you had nothing, and to get some shred of dignity back you needed to make Marisa happy.

"So, what do you want me to do? If you want to see me streak the office, now would be the time," you tried to joke.

"Actually," she responded, "all I really wanted was for you to be standing in my office in your birthday suit, looking totally defeated. You don't think too much of me, even though I never did anything to you, at least before tonight. You sit there in your power business suit and think of me as nothing because I'm walking around in a custodial suit. Well, now you're in a very different suit and I bet you'd give anything to be wearing my custodial clothes right about now." She looked you over again. "Or any clothes." She smirked.

You realized Marisa was a lot smarter than you had given her credit for--something you should have noticed earlier given the current circumstances. Your head was too buzzed from your continued exposure to think about whether she was right, but you knew what to say.

"I'm sorry I treated you that way," you said, trying to sound sincere. "I was wrong."

"See?" she responded, "That's basically all I wanted."

"So I can have my clothes back?" you breathlessly asked, hoping beyond hope that this was over.

"Not yet," Marisa replied. "I said 'basically all.' I need to mop the lobby floor before I head out. I figured you could do it for me."

You quickly imagined yourself mopping the lowly lit lobby in your birthday suit and you cringed. Marisa clearly knew what you were thinking because she responded to the unanswered question.

"No reason you have to mop it buck naked," she said, completely catching you off-guard. "I have a custodial shirt that should fit over those large melons of yours." The shock nearly brought on another orgasm, which she didn't notice since she had walked into a back room, coming back seconds later with a blue shirt in her hands. "Now, all you have to do is ask for it nicely," she explained.

"Please, Marisa, may I have that shirt?" you replied immediately.

"Not nicely enough," she said, shaking her head. "Make it clear to me how badly you want it."

You took a deep breath. "Marisa, I know I've treated you badly in the past, and for no reason. Tonight you have put me in my place. I have now been stuck completely and totally naked for over an hour here at our office, and would be eternally grateful if you could let me have that shirt to cover myself with."

"Of course," Marisa said, and handed you the shirt. You threw your right arm in the sleeve and pulled the garment around you to get your left arm in as well. It smelled like a dozen cleaning solutions but you didn't care. After having been totally nude and exposed this evening it felt like a designer gown.

Until you went to button it up. That's when you noticed that all the buttons were gone.

"Yeah," Marisa sighed, "sorry about that. It was the only one I could find."

You held it together, one hand at your breasts and the other in front of your pussy. For a moment you were covered up, and it felt wonderful. Then Marisa spoke.

"Only problem, Ms. Babson, is that mopping is a two-handed job. But you'll figure it out. Let me get you your mop and bucket." She again walked to a back room, returning shortly rolling a soapy bucket with a mop in it.

At this point you realized Marisa had had this all setup for you: the no-button shirt and the mop and bucket ready to roll. And that probably meant she had no intention of having mopping being the only thing you'd have to do to earn your clothes back.

"Anytime now," she observed.

You reached out and grabbed the mop with both hands; as you did, the shirt instantly sprung open. It was so big it nearly fell off your shoulders, and you were exposed again. You let go of the mop to pull it closed but Marisa had no interest in that happening.

"Hands on the mop, custodian," she said, authority in her voice. You reached again for the mop with both hands and the shirt reopened, your tits and snatch bare and exposed again.

But as you rolled the mop-bucket back into the low-lit lobby--looking even more obscene with your breasts and pussy exposed from behind the wide-open custodial shirt--the thought you had just had about Marisa was gnawing at you. 'This isn't over. What else will she want me to do? How else will she bring me down?'

Suddenly the lobby lights were made very bright. You swung around--as the shirt billowed around you--you saw Marisa leaning against the wall by the dimmer. She had you in a spotlight now. And you knew you were right: She had no intention of making this easy on you. As you pulled the mop from the bucket (you hadn't mopped anything in years but you figured it couldn't be that hard), you knew the evening could only get worse.

And you were right. As you began to mop, you heard Marisa's voice loudly from across the lobby.

"That shirt looks ridiculous on you. Way too big. And without buttons it just looks obscene. Let me have it back."

You looked up at her to see if she was joking. She was not even smiling and had reached her hand out for you to bring it over to her. You considered making a run for it when you noticed she was standing near the door that led back to your office, where your purse and keys were.

"Please..." you whimpered.

"Now," Marisa commanded.

You repositioned the mop and walked over to her, slowly and painfully noticing the cold lobby tile under your bare feet. You held the shirt closed as you did, enjoying the brief covering for one last moment. Seconds later you stood in front of her, her hand still outstretched.

"Turn around," she ordered.

You did so, facing away from her. Suddenly the shirt was ripped off your back--the sides you'd been holding together pulled violently from between your fingers--and you were once again standing totally naked in the building lobby.

"Guess you are gonna mop this thing in your birthday suit after all," she said behind you. With that she gave your ass a very firm swat which took your breath away for a second. "Now get to work."

And you knew your evening with Marisa was far from over.