




                            75% OFF 

                               by 

                            Joe Doe 


Part 4

THE SAGA CONTINUES AS JUDGE ASHLEY MARSH WATCHES A GIRL "DRESS" 
A STRANGELY FAMILIAR MANNEQUIN...AND NEWS ANCHOR PAULA EVANS 
CONSIDERS LIFE AS A WEATHER BUNNY. 



As Ashley's car rounded the corner, she noticed the sales clerk who 
had waited on her putting up an enormous sign in the display window 
at the entrance to the mall.  Ashley shuddered when she read the 
huge block letters: 

                        75% OFF TODAY!

                        SEE EVERYTHING! 

She pulled her BMW into the nearby handicapped parking space, her 
anger intensifying as she watched the sales clerk fuss with the 
obviously oversized sign.  Perhaps the mall manager needed a visit 
from one of her female friends on the zoning commission.... 

The clerk then pulled back a large black curtain that was covering 
the left half of the window.  Ashley smiled as an elegantly dressed 
mannequin was revealed.  Its hair was carefully coifed, and it was 
wearing exactly the type of elegant and tasteful suit that Ashley 
herself favored. 

In fact, the mannequin resembled Ashley, and the suit that the 
it was wearing was almost identical to that she had on at that 
moment.  Even the expensive, steel-rimmed spectacles mirrored 
the reading glasses Judge Ashley wore as a prop when issuing 
an important ruling from the bench. 

After the sexist imagery of the last few hours, Ashley was 
delighted to see a positive and tasteful representative of 
a successful professional.  

She was pleased that the people entering the mall tomorrow would 
see the image of an elegant and in-charge woman.  The gawking male 
spectators may have come to see a degrading and humiliating peep 
show, but the elegantly dressed executive in the window would 
signal that Judge Ashley planned a stunning reversal of fortune. 

The fact that the mannequin looked like Ashley's plastic sister 
made the irony that much sweeter. 

But her smug satisfaction began to wane as she watched the clerk 
casually remove the jacket and blouse. 

That teenage clerk was stripping the mannequin.  She was stripping 
her in public, where everyone could see. 

Ashley scolded herself; after all, it was only a dummy! 

She really wasn't sure why she was trembling.... 

After the jacket and blouse had been removed, next came the 
tasteful Gucci shoes, the elegant string of pearls, and the 
Patek Philippe watch. 

Ashley's legs turned to jelly as the clerk eased the figure's skirt 
to the floor.  The clerk's brusque and workmanlike manner as she 
carefully boxed each item was frightening.   

Ashley felt as if she were gazing into the future.... 

The mannequin was now wearing nothing but a lacy red bra and panty 
set.  It was elegant, to be sure, and just the sort of slightly 
racy lingerie that Judge Ashley did wear under her demure outfits.  

But, watching her look-a-like wearing only those brief 
"unmentionables" in the store window was decidedly unsettling. 

She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the clerk opening a box 
in the corner.  Her plastic twin was going to be given something to 
wear. 

Would it be another power suit?  An expensive designer dress?  
Perhaps the mall would capitalize on the judge's professional 
appearance by dressing the figure in a full-length black judicial 
robe. 

She smiled as she pictured the plastic representation of herself 
wearing the very emblem of wisdom, justice, and power.   It was 
the Supreme Court hopeful's favorite outfit....  

She envisioned herself on the high court, striking blow after blow 
for women's rights.  As a Supreme Court Justice, she would be able 
to "ease" Judge Hawthorn into early retirement...and block his 
pension.  Then perhaps a court-ordered investigation of civil 
rights abuses at the mall and the local Sheriff's office would 
also be in order....   

Ashley chuckled at the idea of the sexist Sheriff and the mall 
manager trembling and pleading for mercy as she prepared to hand 
down their lengthy sentences.  

She knew that the Sheriff's attitude about strip searches would 
change when he was on the receiving end.   Perhaps the recent 
proposal to reinstate the chain gang wasn't such a bad idea....   

Ashley looked on in triumph as the clerk carefully placed a large 
wooden gavel in the figure's right hand.    

The gavel ended Ashley's suspense; the fact that the mannequin 
looked like her was obviously more than a coincidence.  There 
was no doubt about how the figure in the window would be dressed 
-- it was going to be the judicial robe or nothing! 

But her smug satisfaction faded into confusion as she watched the 
clerk carefully ease a silk stocking over the mannequin's foot and 
slowly work it up her shapely leg. 

Ashley was puzzled at first, but her blood ran cold as the clerk 
reached into the box and removed another article of clothing even 
briefer and wispier than the hose: a lacy white garter belt, 
festooned with cute little ribbons and bows all over it.  It was 
ridiculously girly and lacy, like something a Barbie doll might 
wear if trapped in a Wild West bordello. 

Ashley reached into the shopping bag on the seat next to her and 
carefully removed the garter belt she had purchased a few minutes 
before.   She swallowed.  The two belts were identical! 

It had to be a mistake.  This wasn't the garter belt of an elegant, 
refined professional woman.  The woman who owned this garter belt 
was a helpless, air-headed bimbo! 

Ashley still couldn't understand why SHE had purchased the 
humiliating garment.  For a brief moment, she could almost 
feel the garter belt slowly sliding up her thigh...imprisoning 
her...leaving her at the mercy of the drooling, leering mob.... 

She watched unhappily as the clerk methodically fastened the gaudy 
straps to the tops of the stockings.   

The garter belt was obviously ornamental, but the long stockings 
made it also a practical necessity.  After all, the 75% off 
"promotion" required a lot of walking, squatting, and jumping.  
The enormous and enthusiastic male audience would demand value 
for their shopping dollar. 

Ashley frowned as the clerk brusquely shod the mannequin in high 
heels.  The clerk was treating it more roughly now that it was 
wearing nothing but the flimsy lingerie.  Clearly the teasing tart 
was far less worthy of respect than the elegant professional woman 
who had been standing in the window a few minutes before. 

The highly realistic mannequin was fully articulated, and Ashley 
watched the clerk carefully re-pose the figure.   

Its original stance had epitomized sophisticated aloofness: hand 
on one hip, head turned at a somewhat cocky angle, nose tilted 
slightly into the air, lips displaying a faint, almost arrogant 
smile.... 

The skillful window dresser easily stripped the plastic figure of 
its aloof sophistication and made it epitomize exposure and 
embarrassment: legs apart, knees bent, toes pointed in...left 
hand desperately shielding her crotch...right arm (and gavel) 
across her breasts. 

Somehow the facial expression was also changed.  The eyes were 
opened wider, and the mouth was reshaped into a panicked "O."  
Then the clerk carefully applied a bit of red makeup to the 
face, to simulate a blush. 

The humiliating and comical pose made the mannequin appear to be 
trying to shield herself, as if someone had pushed her into the 
display window wearing nothing but her lacy undies!   

Ashley thought things couldn't get any worse for her plastic 
surrogate, Until the clerk unhooked the dummy's bra.... 

She felt her own nipples stiffen as the clerk coolly tossed the 
brassiere into the box.  Ashley readjusted the thermostat in her 
BMW to counter the sudden and inexplicable chill. 

She gasped as the 18-year-old clerk insolently inserted her fingers 
into the waistband of the blushing mannequin's panties. 

"Please, no!" Ashley thought.  "Not the panties too!  Don't strip 
me NAKED!  Not in the window!  Let me...um...h-her...have a scrap 
of dignity!" 

But dignity was no longer a part of this mannequin's wardrobe.  The 
panties slowly but surely came down...down...down...first over the 
left foot, then over the right.   

Ashley flinched as the pretty panties disappeared into the hated 
box.... 

Her doppelganger was now wearing nothing but heels, hose, and 
trashy garter belt. 

In a mocking parody of Ashley's respected title and profession, the 
humbled figure was allowed to keep her glasses and gavel.  

Ashley watched unhappily as the clerk gathered the boxes under her 
arm and prepared to leave.  After all, what would a silly little 
airhead need with all of those expensive clothes? 

On her way out of the window, the clerk drew back the large black 
curtain that had been hiding the rest of the display.  Ashley saw 
to her horror that the right hand side of the window contained 
several male figures, all of whom were smiling and pointing at 
the naked woman, who was clearly the center of attention.   

One of the laughing men held a small digital camera.  Another had 
a camcorder. 

Ashley shuddered as the clerk put up a second sign: 

                   DIGITAL CAMERAS FOR SALE/RENT!

              YOU, TOO, CAN UPLOAD PICTURES TO THE WEB! 

Ashley had thought the people coming to the mall would see an 
elegant professional woman, in charge and in control. 

But instead they would see a helpless, nearly naked dummy.... 

The display made Ashley feel anxious...embarrassed...and deeply 
aroused! 

She stared at the display for several minutes.  The parking lot was 
empty; the clerk was gone.  She closed her eyes and discreetly 
slipped her hand under her skirt. 

The images of the day were terrible, but...stimulating.  She knew 
that every man in town would desire her, would fantasize about 
her....  And she was right on the brink of orgasm when.... 

TAP TAP TAP!  

TAP TAP TAP! 

Startled, Ashley's eyes flew open, and her hand jerked away from 
her crotch.  Release denied! 

She flushed crimson as the mall security guard motioned for her to 
roll down her window. 

"May I see some identification, Miss?" the guard asked, sternly.   

Ashley hastily dug out her judicial ID, which was her preferred 
method of identification for all situations, particularly traffic 
stops. 

The guard smirked as he noticed a sheen of moisture on the corner 
of the laminated ID, but he quickly resumed his humorless persona.  
Ashley blushed and squirmed as she wiped her soggy hand on her 
expensive leather car seat.  She had never been so humiliated in 
her life. 

The guard examined the ID, and then looked down sternly at the 
flushed woman struggling to regain her dignity.  "Usually I catch 
teenagers out here doing this type of thing to each other," he 
said.  "I don't know if I should call the police -- or take you 
over my knee." 

The image struck a chord, and Ashley was instantly transformed into 
a naughty, blushing teenager caught in a forbidden act.  Her butt 
cheeks tightened as she envisioned the frowning father-figure 
slowly removing his belt and doubling it over in his beefy hand, 
as she submissively raised her fanny high in the air.  She begged 
him not to take down her underpants, but it was not her decision 
to make.  She bit her lip in helpless humiliation as his thick 
fingers slid under the waistband of her lacy panties.... 

"Please, s-sir...," Ashley stammered.  "I was j-just coming...I-I 
mean...GOING....  Please don't call anyone!"  

The guard was highly amused to see the crisp professional sniveling 
like a little girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar (or 
somewhere even more delicate).  He pretended to weigh the matter 
before saying, "I'll let you go this time, young lady, but, if I 
ever catch you doing that again, I'll give you a good 
fanny-tanning." 

"Yes, sir," Ashley said.   "Thank you, sir."  She paused.  "May I 
have my ID back, sir?  Um....  There are still a few precedents I 
need to look up in the law library at my office, and I'll need my 
ID to get back into the building." 

"I'll give your ID to Judge Hawthorn in the morning; I wouldn't 
want you to get it all soggy," the guard said, with a knowing 
smile.  "I'm sure Judge Hawthorn or one of the male attorneys 
will tell you what to do tomorrow, especially if you smile sweetly 
and flash a little thigh." 

Ashley immediately realized that her skirt had ridden up 
considerably and she was displaying more than "a little."  
The guard chuckled as the blushing jurist squirmed in a 
desperate effort to cover her exposed thighs. 

"Now be a good little girl and scurry home, and let the men worry 
about the law," the guard patronized. 

"Yes, sir," Ashley said and quickly started the engine.  The 
guard's humiliating lecture and smug commands infuriated her.  
But she was relieved that he didn't call the police, and she 
was too smart an attorney to miss an opportunity for a strategic 
retreat. 

"You have a big day tomorrow, so I want you to go straight to bed, 
young lady," the guard added, sternly.  "And keep those hands on 
TOP of the covers.  You need your beauty sleep, so you'll look your 
best tomorrow." 

Ashley fumed silently as she slowly pulled away.  After she put 
Judge Hawthorn, the mall manager, and Evelyn in their places, 
she'd deal with the entire staff of rent-a-cops at the mall.   

The next few days would be busy ones. 

As she drove home, Ashley considered calling the office; her 
underpaid secretary, Timmy, was doubtlessly still there, toiling 
away on the assignments Ashley had dumped on his desk at 5:00 PM.  

"Timmy" (a name he despised, but which Ashley insisted on using) 
was a good-looking young man and had actually been a law student 
clerking for Judge Hawthorn until Ashley gave his scholarship away 
to the daughter of one of her wealthy female political patrons.  Of 
course, even if Timmy had the money for tuition, he was now far too 
busy slaving away at the office and running Ashley's personal 
errands (not to mention giving her a weekly pedicure) to even 
consider law school. 

She demanded that Timmy remained focused on his job.  A few months 
earlier, he had begun dating a successful female attorney who 
actually attempted to reinstate his scholarship and get him a job 
at her firm.  Of course, a few calculated phone calls from Ashley 
put an end both to the relationship and to Timmy's distracting pipe 
dreams.  And Timmy was tossed back into secretarial hell. 

Ashley still chuckled as she recalled the "sympathy gift" she'd 
left on her traumatized gofer's desk -- a copy of Playboy, a 
bottle of baby oil, and a guidebook entitled, "Being the PERFECT 
Secretary." 

"Terrified Timmy" would let her into her office to check the vital 
precedents, but, recalling her visit with Evelyn that afternoon, 
she hesitated. 

She envisioned herself in her school jumper, typing, running 
errands, fetching coffee, filing, and kowtowing before the 
amused Evelyn.  She would be defenseless against the lecherous 
smirks, cruel jibes, and sly fanny pats of the vengeful trial 
lawyers whom she had terrorized. 

Her stylish and elegant clothes showed that Ashley was a woman in 
charge.  But her degrading school uniform would demonstrate that 
she was just a young lady who needed to be taught a lesson.  

No more leisurely lunches at her private club; she would be forced 
to wolf down her brown bag lunch at her desk.  She knew she would 
eat and have to drink modestly; the indignity of holding her crotch 
and doing the potty dance as she begged for a bathroom pass was 
unthinkable.   

Judge Hawthorn might even loan out Ashley's "secretarial services" 
to one of the lustful attorneys she had frequently reprimanded.  Of 
course, a small gratuity for Hawthorn would be required, but the 
skillful caress of her warm, velvety tongue would be worth it. 

She blushed as she recalled stories about what had happened to the 
last female judge who had fallen into Hawthorn's clutches. 

He regularly checked the humiliated jurist's underpants for 
"disgusting wetness."  If any telltale signs of arousal were 
found, the panties would be pinned to a fan by the blushing 
intern's desk for the rest of the day, ostensibly "to dry."   

The fan would keep the soggy underpants flapping in the breeze 
next to the embarrassed woman's desk, like a flag proclaiming 
her randiness to the world.  Her intimate scent would slowly 
drift into the lobby.... 

It would be bad enough to try navigate through the building in the 
agonizingly short jumper, knowing that the slightest misstep would 
display her childish "day of the week" underpants to everyone.  But 
the thought of fighting the wind gusts that swept down the sides of 
the tall building with no panties on at all was excruciating! 

Once she had been reduced to a measly intern, then Herbie the 
mailroom boy, Evelyn, and even Timmy, her own secretary, would 
outrank her.  She would be totally at their mercy.... 

Timmy had given Ashley a strange, knowing smile as she'd walked out 
of the office that day; she'd felt uncomfortable as she glimpsed 
his eyes running up her legs and fixing on her shapely backside.    

She knew that her lonely secretary had a crush on her.  In the 
past, however, he had always been too cowed to do anything but 
stare at his shoes.  But she had seen him chatting quietly with 
Evelyn earlier in the day, and his suddenly smug demeanor left 
Ashley unnerved. 

Maybe bothering Timmy tonight wasn't a good idea after all.   

Ashley smiled; in a few hours it would all be over.  Afterward, she 
would enjoy teaching her uppity secretary a lesson in obedience.   

		******************************                

Paula Evans stepped out of her bathroom Jacuzzi and wrapped herself 
in a big, fluffy towel.   

Life was good.  Paula's aggressive campaigning and willingness to 
use her sex appeal had allowed her to leapfrog past her competition 
to the co-anchor chair.  Now, if she could just dispose of Ed 
Baxter, the other co-anchor, the broadcast would be hers alone. 

Paula despised the way that Ed had bested her on-camera when he 
asked her if she had filled out a mall contest entry form.  She 
had been using her sex appeal to twist men around her finger for 
years, but it had always been done on HER terms.  There was no way 
she was going to let some sleazy mall manager parade her naked to 
boost sales at his crummy discount mall. 

She looked at herself in the beveled bedroom mirror and smiled.  
Even wrapped in the terrycloth towel, she was stunning.   

And she knew that her co-anchor and her male viewers would do just 
ANYTHING to see her luscious body naked.  She chuckled.  "Eat your 
hearts out, boys!  Ain't none of you gonna see NOTHIN'!" 

Paula was a natural tease, and she flirted with every man in the 
station -- even her rival, Ed.  It excited her to turn Ed on even 
as she was lobbying the station owner to fire him.  She envisioned 
herself merrily watching her experienced and distinguished rival 
packing his Pulitzer prizes and Emmys into a cardboard box.... 

She knew that Ed was trying to undermine her credibility by 
suggesting demeaning undercover assignments.  He had implied 
that she should investigate the rumors that the police were 
strip-searching women for trivial misdemeanors.  He'd even 
suggested sending Paula out dressed up like a street hooker 
to "expose" the fact that (gasp!) prostitution existed in our 
fair city. 

The station owner had been intrigued by the idea of parading Paula 
through a series of lurid undercover assignments, but, since he 
was grooming her to anchor the show alone, he was reluctant to 
undermine her already questionable gravitas.   

After her admission that she had filled out the form, Paula noticed 
the news director had a number of "producer outlines" on his desk.  
Titles included "Strip-Searched for Littering," "Straitjacketed 
Naked at the Mental Hospital,"  "Hooker for Hire," and "Undercover 
in Cellblock H's Shower." 

Paula knew sweeps month was coming up, but this was ridiculous!  
When she had gone upstairs to confront the owner, she overheard 
part of a muffled conversation that the station owner, the station 
manager, and Ed were holding in the private executive dining room.  

"I think we can agree that, if she ends up strutting through the 
mall naked, she's finished," the station owner said.  "Ed will 
resume anchoring the news alone, and we'll use her for some sexy 
undercover assignments before easing her into her new role as 
Weather Bunny.  Sunny skies will seem that much sunnier when she's 
dancing around in a bikini while Ed reads the forecast!" 

"What's the mall manager going to make her wear?" the station 
manager asked, eagerly. 

"She's from Texas, so I suggested a cowboy hat, cowboy boots...and 
that honey-drenched magnolia smile," Ed replied, chuckling. 

"I guess we get to find out if our little tease is a real blonde 
after all," the owner chortled. 

Paula shuddered as she remembered her visit to the mall manager's 
office a few days before.  She had been troubled by the odd way the 
man had smiled at her when she asked him about the cowboy hat and 
boots in the corner.  

The leering mall manager had shown her the desk drawer that he had 
locked Debbie's clothes in, and he suggested that Paula give him 
her station blazer so that he could demonstrate how he could "lock 
up a woman's clothes, safe and sound."   

She had declined his smarmy "offer," but the image of her crisp 
blazer, skirt, and underwear folded neatly in the mall manager's 
desk had haunted her ever since. 

Paula looked at herself in the mirror and swallowed.  Then she took 
a deep breath, and dropped the towel to the floor. 

She placed her hands on top of her head, and envisioned the 
blushing woman in the mirror in a cowboy hat and boots.   She 
imagined her hated nemesis, Ed, chuckling as he reported to the 
record TV audience that "our new Weather Bunny IS a natural 
blonde!" 

She quickly scampered into her huge four poster bed and pulled the 
covers over her head, silently hoping that Judge Ashley was as 
smart as she looked.  Paula knew Ashley was supposed to be 
brilliant, but she also knew that her own cute little butt 
was definitely on the line. 

		******************************                   

A few blocks away, the owner of a large local software company 
pondered her fate as she nervously sorted through the lingerie 
in her closet.  She regretted giving the interview at the mall, 
but it was too late for regrets.  As a Stanford MBA and 
multi-millionaire, Marsha Dane wasn't used to hiding her 
opinions and enjoyed telling people who she was.   

When that pimply-faced college boy in the security guard uniform 
complimented her and her two friends on their TV interview and 
asked for their names, Marsha automatically gave him her business 
card. 

It was only when the guard explained that the mall manager needed 
to know her name so that he could "look up the contest entry form" 
that she began to worry.  When the grinning guard told her that he 
would "see" her tomorrow, she felt herself blush, hotly.... 

Marsha told herself that she had nothing to worry about.  After 
all, it was only that little airhead, Debbie, who they had marched 
through the mall BUTT-NAKED!   

Debbie was obviously a bimbo!  A simpleton!  A slut! 

Marsha wasn't like that!  She was a respected business leader, not 
some cheap stripper to be paraded around to boost sales!   

But, as Marsha looked out again at the squad car that was 
mysteriously parked in front of her beachfront condo, she 
wondered what the morning would bring.  A company-wide e-mail 
had slyly suggested that "something special" was going to 
happen to her at the mall; Marsha blushed crimson as she 
imagined her subjugated staff watching with amused 
satisfaction as she was paraded through the crowd. 

Maybe she should wear the matching purple bra and panty set and 
purple pumps, just in case... 

		******************************            

Brittany Kelly was looking forward to her first good night's sleep 
in days.  She had despised the way she had been forced to stand in 
court and foolishly stammer excuses, while Judge Ashley smugly 
beamed down at her. 

Ashley had clearly relished Brittany's desperate situation.  So, 
when Brittany heard that the great and powerful Judge Ashley was 
also a target, she was ecstatic.  Being shown naked in the mall 
might almost be worth it if she could see that Ashley bitch get 
hers! 

But Brittany was relieved when Ashley had called and asked for her 
help.  Joining forces with Ashley was girl-power at its finest, and 
Brittany knew that together they could defeat any male adversary.   

Brittany was infuriated by the way everyone at her law firm was 
gossiping behind her back and by the fact that her answering 
machine was now filled with lascivious messages from every pervert 
the former prosecutor had ever convicted.  The thought of strutting 
around naked in front of those jeering ex-convicts chilled her to 
the bone. 

But, with the law AND the judge on her side, she was confident she 
would prevail.  Extremely attractive and photogenic, she knew the 
media loved winners.  The presence of Court TV would naturally lead 
to an appearance on Larry King, and Brittany's future as the female 
Johnny Cochran would be secure. 

She was pleased that her feud with Ashley was finally over.  Of 
course, if the unthinkable should happen and something did go 
wrong, she knew that her red garters, red stockings, and red high 
heels would make her look way better than that BITCH!  

		******************************                 

Ashley struggled as she attempted to read Judge Hawthorn's chicken 
scratchings.  Evelyn had given her a few pages of text, "in case" 
she wanted "to practice typing before Monday."   

The idea was absurd.  Ashley was NOT going to lose, and she was NOT 
going to be reduced to the status of a lowly typist!   

	ALTHOUGH LIBERALS COMPLAIN THAT MALE AUTHORITY FIGURES 
	WOULD ABUSE A NEW STRIP-SEARCH LAW, QUAINT CONCEPTS LIKE 
	PROBABLE CAUSE DO LITTLE TO SHIELD SOCIETY FROM THE 
	PERNICIOUS RISING TIDE OF FEMINISM AND PROMISCUITY.  

	YOUNG WOMEN WOULD DRESS LIKE LADIES IF THEY KNEW THEIR 
	SCANDALOUS ATTIRE WOULD TARGET THEM FOR A SEARCH.  LOOSER 
	STRIP-SEARCH GUIDELINES WOULD ENCOURAGE WOMEN TO TRAVEL 
	WITH MALE ESCORTS, AND TREAT MALE AUTHORITY FIGURES WITH 
	RESPECT. 

	IMAGINE THE ECONOMIC BENEFITS OF FORCING FLIGHTY WOMEN TO 
	SHOP WITH THEIR WISE AND FRUGAL FATHERS, HUSBANDS, AND 
	BOYFRIENDS.... 

The text enraged Ashley, and she shuddered as she imagined herself 
pounding out this sexist drivel day after day on the ancient manual 
typewriter in Hawthorn's chambers.  She wanted to quit, but the 
image of Evelyn tapping the paddle against her palm compelled her 
to go on.  "White Out" and "Correct-o-Type" were forbidden; Evelyn 
preferred to correct "sloppy typing" by getting at "the seat of the 
problem." 

	ALTHOUGH SOME ARGUE THAT METAL DETECTORS ARE SUFFICIENT, 
	THERE IS NO SUBSTITUTE FOR A TIP-TO-TOE STRIP-SEARCH.  
	EVEN THE MOST REBELLIOUS FEMINIST WILL LOSE HER GINGER 
	WHEN YOU STRIP HER OUT OF HER FANCY POWER SUIT AND PUT 
	HER DAINTY LITTLE FEET INTO THE STIRRUPS.   

	DISCRIMINATORY CLASS DISTINCTIONS WILL VANISH AS THE 
	PAMPERED AND SPOILED FEMALE EXECUTIVE WATCHES THE LOWLY 
	MINIMUM WAGE SECURITY GUARD TEASINGLY SLIP ON HIS RUBBER 
	GLOVE AND SLOWLY LUBRICATE HIS MIDDLE FINGER.... 

		******************************                

Ashley lay in bed and considered the strange events of the day.  
As a judge, she had always been confident, assured, even cocky.  
Whether she was berating Herbie the mailroom boy or ordering Timmy, 
the hapless hunk, to fetch her laundry (at the same time she was 
hurling the stapler at his head), she always knew just what to do. 

But her lingering concern that something might go wrong at the mall 
tomorrow aroused unaccustomed feelings of helplessness and panic. 

It was easy enough to dismiss a vengeful shrew like Evelyn, and 
Ashley was confident that she had her pitifully horny male 
secretary totally under her thumb.  But the female salesclerk 
had been a different matter.  The clerk's matter-of-fact, 
businesslike attitude made the unimaginable humiliation seem 
almost inevitable.  Ashley was used to other women treating her 
with deference and respect.  But, to the relentlessly efficient 
clerk, Ashley was clearly just another day's work.  The most 
respected woman jurist in the state would soon be nothing more 
than sexy eye candy used to lure in male shoppers and goose 
lingerie sales.  

The earnest clerk would ensure Ashley's humiliation was brisk and 
efficient.  There would be no chance of escape; the businesslike 
clerk would methodically strip Ashley of every last shed of her 
pride and dignity, and then push her out the door for everyone 
to gawk at.   

The clerk wouldn't do it out of spite; humbling Ashley would be 
just another task, no different than stocking the shelves.  

Ashley envisioned the clerk methodically folding and boxing each 
item of her tasteful, expensive attire: clothes, jewelry, 
watch...everything.  To Ashley, the slow striptease would be 
the most mortifying experience imaginable.  And the smiling 
clerk's pleasant but no-nonsense manner would make it all the 
more humiliating. 

Ashley flushed, recalling the clerk's casual comment that it would 
be "easier to check the fit when you don't have so much on."  That 
breezy observation wasn't meant to be chilling; it was just a 
simple statement of fact.  Adjusting the stockings and tightening 
the straps would be easier after Ashley's judicial robes had been 
removed and her expensive clothes had been seized and boxed.   

Once she was stripped, forcing the proud jurist into her heels and 
hose would be no more difficult than dressing the dummy in the 
window. 

Ashley shuddered as she pictured the clerk carefully adjusting 
her gaudy garter tabs while the smiling mall manager watched 
approvingly.  It certainly wouldn't do to have a tasty tart's 
stockings sag as she paraded around the mall.   

The exact positioning of the garter belt and hose would be vital.  
After all, no one would care what Ashley herself said or thought.  
The important thing was that she looked good as she pranced 
prettily for the men.  

After the garter belt was properly adjusted, a sharp SLAP on the 
fanny would send her out the door to face her eager audience. 

She wondered if she had made a mistake by postponing her fitting.  
She was still in charge tonight, but tomorrow might be a different 
story. 

What if the mall manager decided to help "adjust" her scandalous 
lingerie?  Ashley shivered, imagining his piggy hands running up 
her creamy thighs.  If a playful finger strayed off course, she 
would be helpless to resist.  

She was clearly smarter than her opponents, and she desperately 
wanted to defeat them one more time.  But, despite her obvious 
superiority, she briefly considered packing her bags and leaving 
town.   

The events of the last few hours made her feel as if fate itself 
was conspiring against her.  How could things go so wrong? 

She was beginning to feel like the heroine in one those awful Joe 
Doe stories! 

She was tired, but she was also excited.  She wanted to relieve the 
pressure, but, recalling the mall guard's strict warning against 
self-gratification, she hesitated. 

But the forbidden nature and dire consequences only made it more 
exciting.  And, of course, there was no way the mall guard would 
ever know...unless she confessed.    

Ashley closed her eyes and slipped her hand under the covers, 
determined to finish what she had she had started.... 

		******************************              

The mall manager smiled and sipped his Scotch, as he sorted through 
the pictures on top of his desk.  So many women, so little time! 

He knew he would get to all the women eventually, but who would be 
next?  A number of candidates were already on "stake-out," but the 
Sheriff had assured him that he didn't have to make his final 
decision until morning. 

He finished his drink and headed up for bed.  No need to rush; he 
still had a few more hours to decide. 

The manager's home office was empty; the lights were out, and 
all was quiet.  On the corner of his desk sat the file folders 
containing the unlucky finalists for tomorrow's contest.  The 
thick stack contained the photographs of the most beautiful 
and alluring women in town. 

On top of the stack was a picture of an attractive young woman 
in a black judicial robe, smiling confidently at the camera.  



Edited by C. Lakewood

