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Message-ID: <46229asstr$1074071410@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Ah Um <flapaddict@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Skirt Day 1-2 (F, exhib, humil, ds)
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Date: Wed, 14 Jan 2004 04:10:10 -0500
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If you enjoy this story, if you want more of it, or if
you want to repost it, please send an email to 
flapaddict@yahoo.com.  

Skirt Day - by Chris Maxwell

Chapter one: how it began

Lisa wondered why it was that despite her successful
career in middle management and a plethora of dating
options consequent to her tall, blond good looks, she
still felt empty and unhappy.  In fact she didn't much
like dating - all too often she would find the guy's
shallow attempts to impress, to make her laugh, and to
get into her jeans to be frustratingly unsatisfying. 
She usually delivered a forceful rejection to each
guy, and even went on to instruct him on how to
improve his life. 

Her career was taking off - she felt a promotion
coming - and with a recent raise and no children, a
paid-off house and car, and fully paid student loans,
she had all the money she needed and more; an
indication of 26 years of hard work and little play,
she thought.  Why not more happiness from such early
stability and success?  This she asked her recently
hired therapist, Joan. 

After several weeks, Joan found it a major
breakthrough when she realized that Lisa's dating
disappointments - and perhaps business disappointments
as well - came from her displeasure at docile
partners.  Joan explained her theory to Lisa: you find
forceful men attractive, but you are so self-confident
that you are too forceful with them to allow them to
assert themselves.  

Joan thought of a potential therapy for Lisa.  She
began asking Lisa questions about how she could tone
down her aggressive stature.  One session, Joan had an
idea:

"Lisa - I notice that at every session, you are always
dressed quite similarly.  Baggy jeans, a dark-colored
blouse or sweater.  You never dress in a particularly
. . . feminine way," Joan asked, looking for
something.

"I prefer to dress this way.  It's comfortable."

"And fairly gender neutral . . ."

"So?"

"So, why don't you ever wear a dress?  Maybe a low-cut
top?  High heels?"

"I don't think I would be taken seriously if I wore
those things.  People would think I was, you know,
just a girl."

"Do you even own any dresses?"

"I have one floor-length evening gown that I bought
for a Christmas party some years back."

"Floor length?  I'll bet it was more conservative than
the other dresses at the party."

"Of course.  Many of the wives of the employees would
wore short little cocktail dresses.  You could just
see the men looking at their legs and breasts the
whole time.  I would never wear something like that to
an office party.  What if my colleagues saw up my
skirt?  They should be talking to /me/, not my
breasts."

"Maybe so.  But Lisa - I think this might be a route
to explore ways to enrich your life.  I think you box
yourself in too much; You are always so concerned
about earning respect and being the leader.  It even
cuts into your wardrobe.  But your wardrobe is one of
the easiest things we can augment.  So, doctor's
orders, I want you to try this:  after today's
session, I want you to go shopping.  I want you to
find something feminine - a dress or a skirt - to wear
to our next session."

"That shouldn't be hard."

"Actually, it should be, so I'm going to make it a
little harder on you.  I want it to be short.  Well
above the knee.  I want you to buy a skirt that seems
just long enough to you, but absolutely no longer, and
wear it here with bare legs.  The weather is plenty
warm for it."

"You're not wearing a skirt, Joan.  Why should I?"

"I almost always wear a skirt on a date.  Do you?"

"No."

"Well, there you go."

That afternoon, Lisa went shopping, figuring she must
be paying her therapist for something.  She had not
worn a skirt above the knee since childhood - and then
she never liked the threat of being exposed and teased
by the boys.  But she was an adult now and she could
handle it.

She tried on about 5 skirts and ultimately ended up
buying a dark green, loose a-line skirt that fell to
just above her knees.  She put it in her closet and
forgot about it until her session a week later.  As
she shaved her legs that morning, it occurred to her
that although she shaved her legs almost every
morning, there was never really any point until today.

The feeling of going outside with her legs no longer
safely wrapped by denim or cotton pants, or at least
knee-length shorts, was one she had not felt in a
while.  She could feel the slightly cool air on her
knees and thighs as she took the subway to her
session, and she knew that she looked more feminine,
more exposed, more weak than her usual self.  But
there was something else.

"What else?"  asked Joan.

"I guess I do feel more attractive.  That's the point
of this, right?"

"That's part of it.  It is very nice looking, although
you still look quite conservative.  What I want for
you, Lisa, is to feel /vulnerable/.  I think that's
what you're missing."

"Feeling vulnerable doesn't sound like a good thing."

"I think for you, it will be.  Do you have a date next
week?"

"No."

"An important business meeting?"

"Just one departmental meeting.  Why?"

"This is what I want you to do: tomorrow, take your
new skirt to a tailor.  Ask him to shorten it by 4
inches.  Don't try it on for him, just ask him to do
it.  Ask him to call you when it's done.  Then, the
day he calls you, whatever day it is, you pick it up. 
And then the next day will be important.  On that day
you will wear the skirt, again with bare legs.  You
will wear it even though it will feel too short for
you.  You will do this because I told you.  And
whenever you wear that skirt, I want you to try to be
passive.  I want you to do whatever anyone tells you,
whether it be a coworker, a friend, or even a
stranger.  So that as you wear that skirt, you are
labeling yourself as a humble servant, at the mercy of
the world.   Of course, it's really our secret that
you will do what anyone asks, but that won't change
the /feeling/ of it.  Do you think you can do that?"

Lisa was shocked.  She did not know if she could do
it.  But it sounded like a challenge.  She thought
about it, and Joan added

"I dare you to do it, Lisa."

So it was a challenge!  Lisa believed nothing was too
difficult for her, so this shouldn't be, either.

"Remember, when you wear that skirt, you will do
whatever anyone asks, starting with putting on the
skirt in the morning and wearing it all day."

The tailor gave Lisa a slightly funny look when she
asked to have her perfectly nice skirt shortened, but
would only tell, not show, how short.  Lisa felt a
little embarrassed, but she did not let it bother her
since it wasn't her idea.

For the beginning of the week, Lisa felt a great
anticipation for her "skirt day."  She resolved that
she would indeed do what anyone told her (not that
anyone would, since no one would know that they could)
and the thought somehow excited her.  She rationalized
that it was the danger of it.  It's highly unlikely
that a stranger on the street could stop her and ask
her to strip naked and have sex with him, but if he
did, she would /have/ to.  The more Lisa thought
about, the more simultaneous dread and excitement
filled her.  On Tuesday she picked up the skirt, which
looked noticeably smaller in her hands although she
did not try it on.  On Tuesday night she had a little
trouble sleeping, wondering what would happen the next
day.

Wednesday morning.  Lisa wakes up, showers, shaves her
legs, brushes her teeth, takes her birth control pill,
and returns to the bedroom.  Wrapped in plastic is her
fate for the day, hanging next to the white blouse she
planned to wear with it.  She picks out her favorite
set of underwear - somewhat high cut white panties and
a bra with just a little push to it.  She buttons up
the blouse (all but the collar button), and then
removes the skirt from the plastic.  She slides it up
her legs, and when the hem reaches her knees she
realizes that the waistband is still half a foot from
her waist.  She slides it higher and when finally she
fastens the button at the waist she feels that her
legs are almost entirely exposed.  She wonders after
all if she can go through with this!

She looks in the mirror.  The skirt only covers half
of her thighs.  She feels exposed, vulnerable, and
anxious.  She turns around and bends over.  It's hard
to tell in the mirror, but she's confident her panties
are still covered, even though the backs of her thighs
are in plain view.  She tries sitting down, exposing
more thigh as the skirt rides up.  "This is how it
will be all day," she says.  She knows she has to go
through with it now.  

Then she feels it: with the vulnerability comes
excitement.  What will happen to her?  What adventures
will befall her now that so much of her is exposed? 
It seems very different, slightly scary, and above
all, /alive/.  As she puts on a pair of strappy
sandals she purchased yesterday, grabs her purse, and
walks out the door, locking her house and her pants
behind her, she pulls down her skirt as far as it
goes, swallows her fear, and realizes why she has been
paying Joan all this time.  For the first time in
years, she is looking forward to her day.

Chapter two: skirt day

The skirt is really too short for comfort.  The loose
cotton sways around the middle of her thighs,
reminding her that her white panties are not far from
view.  As she walks down the steps to the subway, a
sharp underground breeze flies up her thighs to her
warm crotch.  She quickly grasps the hem.  Did her
skirt fly up?  Did anyone see?  "Does anyone know how
vulnerable I am?"

As she waits for the train, she feels the eyes of the
other waiting passengers.  A large black man on the
bench blatently stares at her.  (Will he order her to
unbutton her blouse?)  A blue-suited businessman
offers repeated glances from behind his newspaper.
(Will he demand her panties?)  An asian woman, herself
in a mid-thigh length dress, seems to be
absentmindedly gazing at Lisa's knees.  (Would she
make Lisa kneel and lick her feet?)  

Lisa realizes that her thoughts are crazy.  Her skirt
says nothing about her self-promise to obey.  The
pleasant weather had several women dressed in short
skirts and dresses (although very few as short as
hers).  The thought brings her down to reality,
leaving her a little disappointed.  Then she
remembers: those other women don't have to obey.  But
I must.  The thought excites her; she cannot
understand why, and she realizes she is becoming
aroused.

When the train rolls into the station she holds her
skirt down, wondering what might have happened if she
hadn't.  She boards the train and sits in a
side-facing seat across from a young male passenger. 
She places her purse on her lap and begins reading the
ads above.  Of course, she has seen those ads a
thousand times.  She just reads them to avoid eye
contact.  But today she is facing her fears, she
thinks.  She looks at the passenger across from her. 
He is clearly looking at her thighs, hidden more by
her small purse than by her tiny skirt.  He realizes
that she sees him, and looks up to meet her eyes.  

She is suddenly gripped by terror.  Maybe it will
start here, she thinks.  This confident young male
will ask her to take her purse off her legs, and to
spread them apart so that he can see her panties. 
Then he will make her follow him . . . what about her
modesty, her job, her responsibilities?  How can she
so easily have sex with a stranger from the train?

But he says nothing; rather he gives an embarrassed
smile and looks away.

Lisa knows that strangers are not going to tell her to
do anything.  She can merely walk among them, on her
way to work like everyone else, and they will look at
her exposed legs, but they don't know what those
exposed legs mean.  They don't know that it means
she's . . . available.  

As she rides the elevator up to her office, it occurs
to her that it will be different with her coworkers. 
Her boss, her employees.  They know her - they will
interact with her.  What will they say?

She tries to tell if they are looking at her legs as
she walks to her desk, but if they are they are trying
their best to be subtle.  Lisa does not have her own
office (yet) - she just has a slightly fancier cubicle
than those she manages.  As she enters her cubicle,
she looks down at her legs.  So much of them are
naked!  She sits at her seat and feels its rough
fabric against her bare thighs.  "This skirt is not
appropriate for the workplace," she thinks.  She is
flushed with embarrassment.  What was she thinking?  

She turns on the computer and rubs her left thigh as
her computer boots.  It feels good to rub her bare
flesh here at work she thinks . . . but is anyone
looking?  She wishes her cubicle offered more privacy.

The computer comes to life, and her email program
starts and instantly sends a message.  Lisa remembers,
too late she thinks, that she had programmed it to
automatically send out a reminder on Wednesday
mornings for the departmental meeting after lunch. 
She has to chair that meeting!  That means standing in
front of her entire department in this tiny miniskirt.
 She wonders if she should cancel, but the email goes
to the entire department, including herself.  "Don't
miss today's meeting," it says.  She remembers: I will
obey, even orders I sent myself!

When she reflected upon her day later in the evening,
she remembered that every time she left her desk that
morning felt like an adventure.  Her walk to her
mailbox.  Her walk to the copy machine - her hope that
no one else would enter the copy room as she made her
copies.  Her walk to the desk of their new
administrative assistant, Steve.  He was definitely
checking out her legs as she gave him a routine set of
orders.  "He doesn't know that he could be giving me
the orders today," she had thought.  The idea of what
he might ask if he knew he could ask it distracted her
for a full 15 minutes after the encounter.  

When it came to be noon, she realized that she was
heavily aroused.  She stopped in the ladies room on
the way to the cafeteria, and entered a stall.  When
she pulled down her panties, she noted their dampness.
 The thought of masturbating, right here in the public
bathroom of her own workplace, crossed her mind.  But
she knows it would make noise.  Someone would know. 
They would know it was her.  She couldn't.  She had to
survive her arousal.  

At lunch, she recalled, she was somewhat grateful to
have a napkin covering her bare lap.  She thought,
although she wasn't sure, that when Art from
engineering dropped his fork from across the table,
and got down on his hands and knees to find it, he may
have been trying to look up her skirt.  She believes
that the napkin maintained her modesty.  "If Art had
only asked me to remove it . . . "

After lunch, it is time for the departmental meeting. 
Lisa sits at her desk and rubs her bare knees.  She
has never been to work in a skirt, and this skirt is
/too short/.  She will have to stand up in front of
everyone and give a progress overview.  Will they
listen?  Will they look at her thighs?

As she ponders, she realizes she is running late.  She
grabs her notes and rushes to the conference room, her
short skirt swaying as she walks with long strides. 
She can hear the chatter in the conference room, and
as she opens the door there is an immediate hush.  All
eyes are upon her.

"Uh," she says, "thank you all for coming."  (I never
thank them for coming - it's their job!)  She starts
to go through her notes and wonders - do they see how
nervous I am?  Do they see how much I wish I could sit
down?  And then to her horror she wonders - can they
smell how aroused I am?!?

But she would never know.  The meeting proceeds as it
has every week, and it ends no differently.  

As the afternoon wears away to six o'clock, and most
have gone home, Lisa has calmed down.  She thinks
about how on edge she has been all day, and reminds
herself why she went through it.  Most days she felt
so empty.  But not today.  It worked, she thinks.  It
worked for one day, and all the time and money with
Joan has paid off.

At the same time, she realizes that the edge is
fading.  She has promised herself that when she wears
the skirt, (or any skirt, she decides), she will
secretly promise to obey.  And maybe there will be
slight excitement.  But in truth, she feels safe.  No
one has given her opportunity to obey - and nobody
will.  There is no real danger, she thinks.  Why
should this disappoint her?

As she shuts down her computer and swings her chair
out from under her desk, Steve stops by.  

"Hi!" he says.

Lisa is now sitting in her chair, uncrossed legs
almost fully exposed, and Steve is standing above her,
leaning on the side of the cubicle entrance, looking
down at her.

"Hi Steve," she responds, "Working late?"

"Yeah, I guess," he says.  "I . . ." he hesitates.

"Yes?"

"I think you look awfully nice today, Lisa," he says.

"Thank you Steve."

He warms to her nice response.  Clearly he was
nervous.  Lisa wonders if this is going to get
awkward.  She has no intention of dating one of her
employees, but he's clearly here to flirt.  

"I like that skirt."

"Thanks, Steve, but I think it's a little shorter than
I thought when I bought it . . . " Don't want him to
think I did this on purpose, she thinks.

"Nonsense.  It's perfect. I think you should wear it
more often."

"Excuse me?"

"It really made my Wednesday.  You should wear it
every Wednesday!"

Lisa knows he is trying to be funny, or flirtatious. 
Her initial reaction is to be offended, or maybe
creeped out.  But this is it, she thinks.  This is
where my meddle is tested.  That was an order.  And
she promised herself, she would obey.

"Okay, Steve, we'll see.  I need to be getting home
now."

She stands and pulls down the hem.  Steve is watching
every move.  He lets her out, watching her.  It occurs
to her that he was trying his best to be confident. 
She likes to encourage confidence in her workers.  But
more than that . . . she feels her safety taken away. 
She must obey.  She /will/ wear the skirt next week. 
She will obey whenever she wears it.  And if Steve
gets what he wants this time, will he want more?

The vulnerability and excitement that kept her aroused
all day reach a peak.  She rushes to the subway and
from the subway rushes to her apartment.  She throws
herself on the bed, pulls up the skirt, and shoves her
hands on her panties.  Here, in the privacy of her
bed, she can moan all she likes as she pleasures
herself to the best orgasm she has ever had, followed
by another, more comfortable one.



__________________________________
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