Pantsing and Stripping Forums

Super loving the combination of 'revenge' (in essence by the state at the hands of the psychiatrist) melding with the woman's own desires... only one small change I might have made is that Dr. Withers was privately pleased (enjoying it herself) that Tina went 'off script' and publicly annoyed at the (very marginal) chance the 'victim' might realise that 'hey, if this was illegal for me...' (and pick up a button camera/leave her phone recording in her bag to capture Tina's instructions, etc).

Not that doing so would result in a favourable outcome for Monica, of course... but another potential way to have played with Monica's head - just a thought.

imanewb wrote: Tue Nov 14, 2023 12:44 pm Super loving the combination of 'revenge' (in essence by the state at the hands of the psychiatrist) melding with the woman's own desires... only one small change I might have made is that Dr. Withers was privately pleased (enjoying it herself) that Tina went 'off script' and publicly annoyed at the (very marginal) chance the 'victim' might realise that 'hey, if this was illegal for me...' (and pick up a button camera/leave her phone recording in her bag to capture Tina's instructions, etc).

Not that doing so would result in a favourable outcome for Monica, of course... but another potential way to have played with Monica's head - just a thought.

Yes, that would have been a fun way to play with Monica's head. Not that the poor lady doesn't have enough already on her plate.

Thanks for the feedback, imanewb. I'm always open to new ideas.

Chapter 6: Monica Stripped to Her Underwear

Tina Minsky smiled the moment she heard Dr. Withers’ voice come over the intercom: “Tina, could the three of you come in here, please?” Her smile widened into a grin when Monica Prescott's desperate cry of “No!” rang out through the closed door, almost as clearly as it had through the speaker. The sound of that single word, filled with panic and humiliation, sent a pleasant shiver down Tina's spine.

For twenty-three-year-old Tina Minsky, work had become considerably more entertaining, if not downright pleasurable, ever since the Prescott case landed in her boss’s lap. Dr. Withers had shared the nature of the case with her, along with a few intriguing details that had piqued Tina's curiosity from the start. When Tina first learned that Dr. Withers' therapy would involve the humiliation of her patient, her curiosity quickly turned to fascination.

And, truth be told, the moment Monica Prescott walked through the door and Tina saw how pretty she was, with her delicate features and those wide, frightened eyes, her interest ignited into something more. Since that moment she had taken considerable pleasure in teasing, tormenting and humiliating Monica whenever the opportunity arose. Monica's flushed cheeks, her trembling voice, and the desperate way she tried to maintain some shred of dignity were all so deliciously entertaining. It certainly didn't hurt that Dr. Withers encouraged it, sometimes with subtle nods of approval, other times with explicit suggestions for how Tina might "assist" in the therapeutic process.

Prior to Monica's second session, Dr. Withers asked Tina if she knew of two high school students, preferably a boy and a girl, who might be interested in “assisting” with Miss Prescott's therapy. Tina needed all of five seconds to think of Paula, her younger sister, and Ricky, her fourteen-year-old cousin. Paula, who was sixteen, was always up for some mischief and had never met a situation she couldn't make more interesting, while Ricky's innocent demeanor promised entertainment of its own.

Paula, once filled in on the situation, had eagerly agreed. Tina enticed Ricky to attend by telling him that he might get to see a scantily clad, pretty young lady. She thought it might be fun for all (well, maybe not for the guest of honor) to witness the innocent young teenager's surprised reactions. The boy had no idea what he was walking into, and Tina was positively gleeful at the prospect of watching him react to the situation.

Indeed, as the three of them stepped into Dr. Withers’ office, Tina was still savoring Ricky’s wide-eyed look of wonder when Monica had been made to remove her blouse in the waiting room. Tina had orchestrated that moment perfectly, suggesting to Dr. Withers that Monica's therapy might begin before she even entered her office. The way Monica blushed, and the way her hands had shaken as she unbuttoned her blouse was proof, if Tina needed it, that she'd chosen her cousin perfectly. Ricky had barely been able to breathe, and his eyes locked on Monica's exposed skin with a fascination that Tina found utterly delightful.

* * * * *

Tina, Paula and Ricky entered Dr. Withers' office to find two ladies standing near four empty chairs arranged in a semicircle. One of the ladies was fully dressed and had an air of confidence about her. The other lady was stripped to a black bra, a pair of charcoal pants and high heels. There was decidedly not an air of confidence about her. Hunched over with her hands crossed over her chest, she instinctively turned her back to the newcomers the moment they entered. Their arrival only renewed Monica's embarrassment, despite the fact that all three had already witnessed her earlier exposure.

“Please,” Dr. Withers greeted them warmly, “come in and join us.”

The grinning trio strode eagerly across the room, all three of them drinking in the sight of Monica’s nearly-naked back and trembling shoulders.

“Dr. Withers,” said Tina, clearly enjoying herself, "I'd like you to meet my sister Paula and my cousin Ricky."

“Nice to meet you,” Paula said, shaking the doctor’s hand and meeting her gaze with amusement. Ricky followed suit, though his eyes remained fixed on Monica, his mouth slightly ajar. He was too dumbstruck to speak, his face flushed a deep red that suggested he was simultaneously embarrassed and captivated.

“My pleasure,” said Dr. Withers. “And thank you for volunteering your time. Your presence today will be very beneficial to my patient.” She turned slightly toward the hunched figure by the chairs. “Monica, turn around now and face your guests. Be respectful. Paula and Ricky have generously offered their time to assist in your therapy.

Red-faced and miserable, Monica slowly turned to face them, her eyes downcast and her arms firmly locked across her chest.

Dr. Withers stepped away, fetched an armless chair from the wall, and placed it in the open space facing the others. “Monica, you’ll sit here. The rest of us will take the four chairs facing you. Please, everyone, be seated, and we can begin today's session. I believe Miss Prescott has made some progress,” she added cheerfully, “and with everyone’s help today, I’m optimistic we’ll continue to see improvement.”

Once everyone was seated, Dr. Withers took her time “reviewing” a few papers in her lap. The silence in the room was stifling, exactly as she intended. Monica sat rigidly, her arms still shielding her chest, her head bowed. Meanwhile, Tina, Paula, and Ricky all sat grinning, their gazes openly fixed on her.

Finally, Dr. Withers looked up. “Monica, sit up straight. Hands folded in your lap, please. And hold your head up and face your guests."

With visible reluctance, Monica lowered her arms and placed her hands in her lap, revealing her petite black bra and the delicate, pale skin around it. Her humiliation only deepened when she looked up and saw the three amused faces beaming back at her. The boyish Ricky's expression unnerved her the most; he was practically salivating as he ogled the bra and the exposed skin.

The agonized Monica was almost relieved when Dr. Withers spoke again. “All right, let’s begin. I think it would be helpful to explain to Paula and Ricky what we're trying to accomplish here. Monica, why don’t you tell them why you’re here?”

Monica was none too keen on discussing her situation. “Um... I... I was arrested and was... convicted for...” Monica looked down as she tried to formulate the words. “...for improper behavior while I was teaching.” She stopped there, hoping that would suffice.

Dr. Withers would have none of it. “Let’s be more specific, Monica. What was the nature of your improper behavior? And please, speak clearly. These people have come to help you, and they deserve to understand exactly what they're helping with."

Monica winced, her eyes flicking to the three faces watching her with such avid interest. “I... I believed that students needed discipline. And I found that the most effective way to discipline them was... by embarrassing them. Or shaming them.”

Dr. Withers nodded. “Tell us, Monica,” said Dr. Withers, “what kind of methods did you use to embarrass and shame your students?”

Monica shifted in her seat, fidgeting. “I wanted to embarrass them as much as possible,” she said. “I usually made them remove some of their clothes. A few times... I had them take off all their clothes. It was very effective, making them strip in front of their classmates. I never had a repeat offender.”

Dr. Withers had a slight smile on the corner of her lips over Monica's attempt at justifying her illegal behavior. It was time to throw it back at her. “You’re sitting there in front of us stripped to your bra,” she said. “I imagine you’re feeling quite embarrassed right now, aren’t you? More embarrassed than you've ever felt before?"

Monica flushed deeper and squirmed in her chair. “Yes,” she said, eyes still downcast.

“In any case,” continued Dr. Withers, now addressing the room, "the school administrator was rather progressive. She proposed psychiatry as a form of rehabilitation in lieu of a prison sentence. The judge was open-minded and gave Monica the choice, and she chose to come here over the prospect of serving time in prison. So, everything you see here, though it may seem unconventional, is all for the benefit of Miss Prescott's rehabilitation."

And in no small way also for my own pleasure.

“If Monica cooperates,” she added, “and if I ultimately decide she’s been rehabilitated, she can avoid incarceration. But that depends entirely on her willingness to embrace the process, to fully experience and understand the consequences of her actions. Today is merely another step in that journey."

Paula leaned forward and raised her hand.

"Yes, Paula?" Dr. Withers asked.

Paula glanced sideways at Monica, taking in the crimson flush that had spread from her cheeks down her neck and chest. “Dr. Withers,” she began, “you can tell from Monica’s red face that she’s very embarrassed right now. I mean, she's sitting there exposing her bra and, well... her underdeveloped chest to all of us." Paula paused, letting her gaze drift down to Monica's crossed arms. "Is embarrassing her actually part of the rehabilitation process? Or is this just for our entertainment?"

Dr. Withers smiled, pleased by both the question and the immediate intensification of Monica's blush.

“Excellent observation, Paula,” said the doctor. “To answer your question directly, if Monica can experience the same degree of embarrassment, or perhaps significantly more than she inflicted on her students, then hopefully she'll begin to understand the consequences of her actions. It's one thing to intellectually comprehend that you've caused harm; it's quite another to experience that harm yourself. If we can achieve that, hopefully she'll be more sensitive to the feelings of others in the future and think twice before acting on her deviant impulses."

“Great idea, Doctor,” said Paula cheerfully. "So... are we going to embarrass her even more than we already have?" she asked hopefully.

Dr. Withers’ smile deepened. "As a matter of fact, yes. I was just about to move things along to the next phase." She turned her attention fully to Monica, who had gone very still. "Monica, move your chair aside and stand up, please, facing your guests."

All eyes followed the hapless Monica as she reluctantly rose and scooted the chair to the side. She turned slowly to face her audience, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her breathing had become shallow and rapid.

“Before you all came in,” said Dr. Withers, “Monica was recounting a particular punishment she once gave to a student named Ginger. Poor Ginger was made to remove her blouse in front of the entire class, simply because Monica decided she wanted to see her humiliated. And that is precisely why Miss Prescott is now standing before us with her bra on display. Turnabout, as they say, is fair play."

The doctor let that hang in the air for a moment, watching Monica squirm.

"But Monica didn't stop there," Dr. Withers continued. "After class, she asked Ginger to stay behind so she could... escalate the poor girl's humiliation, and her own pleasure, truth be known. She even invited three witnesses to stay behind and observe the proceedings. Which is exactly why I invited the three of you here today."

All three guests leaned forward in their seats, their eyes gleaming with anticipation. Ricky's grin had widened considerably, while Paula looked positively thrilled. Tina sat with her legs crossed, her expression one of keen interest.

“We’re going to do some roleplaying,” continued Dr. Withers. “Monica, you’ll play the part of Ginger, of course. You'll be the humiliated student. And as for Miss Prescott, the cruel teacher..." She turned to face her receptionist. "Tina, I believe you've read the full transcript of that day's session, yes? The one where Monica detailed exactly what she did to that poor girl?"

Tina's eyes lit up with delight. "Yes, I have," she said eagerly. "Every word. Twice."

“Wonderful,” said the doctor. “Then you’re familiar with how Miss Prescott conducted herself. Would you be interested in stepping into her role? I think you'd be absolutely perfect for it."

This, of course, was no improvisation. Dr. Withers had planned it in advance. She’d seen Tina in action and had been genuinely impressed by her natural talent for teasing and embarrassing Monica Prescott, not to mention the obvious enjoyment she took in doing so. More importantly, it was abundantly clear to Dr. Withers that Monica’s humiliation intensified whenever Tina was involved, and Caroline was more than happy to let the young woman run wild with it. And knowing Tina as she did, it would not be surprising if she varied from the script and took the role in unexpected directions. Dr. Withers smiled outwardly at the possibility, feeling a thrill of anticipation.

Monica flinched the moment Dr. Withers tapped her receptionist to take a more active role in her so-called therapy. In Monica’s eyes, Ms. Minsky took far too much pleasure in her humiliation, and she didn’t bother hiding it. And there was something else, something darker and more unsettling in the way that Tina looked at her that made her deeply uncomfortable. It was the look Monica had seen from men before, the look of someone undressing her with their eyes.

Meanwhile, Tina Minsky thought she had died and gone to heaven. She was already taking immense pleasure in watching Dr. Withers systematically embarrass her patient, and now she was being asked if she would like to play a major role in the pretty young lady's ongoing humiliation. It was like Christmas morning and her birthday all rolled into one delicious package.

"Yes!" answered Tina. "I'd absolutely love to! When do we start?"

Dr. Withers chuckled softly, clearly amused by Tina's enthusiasm. "Very well then. Please, proceed whenever you're ready. Take your time. Set the scene properly."

Tina stood, gave Monica a sweet smile, and then shifted into character with the ease of a seasoned actress. "Ginger, you've been a very naughty girl today, and I'm afraid I'm going to have to take your punishment a step further," she said authoritatively.

Dr. Withers felt a rush of excitement, arousal already beginning to stir low in her belly. It was immediately clear that Tina would not disappoint.

Tina continued, stepping closer to Monica. "'Yes, Miss Prescott' would be the appropriate response, Ginger," she prompted, now in full roleplay mode. "And I expect you to address me properly at all times. Is that understood?"

If Monica could have opted to be struck dead by lightning at that moment, she probably would have availed herself of that option. For a fleeting moment, a wild thought crossed her mind: Perhaps prison wouldn’t be so bad after all. But she quickly pushed that thought aside and resigned herself to what would almost certainly be a deeply humiliating ordeal.

"Yes, Miss Prescott," she said meekly, her eyes locked firmly on the floor.

“Good girl, Ginger,” said Tina. “Now, for your punishment, I’d like you to walk around the room in your underwear for us. So you’ll need to take off those pants.”

Monica froze, her entire body going rigid. Of course she'd known this was coming. It was in the transcript. She'd done it to Ginger. She'd stood over that poor girl and commanded her to strip in front of witnesses. But now, with the roles reversed, with her own dignity on the line, it felt as if she had been hit with a sudden jolt of electricity. And the surprised, leering grin on the 14-year-old Ricky's face didn't help matters at all.

“P-please,” Monica stammered. “I know what I did to Ginger, but—”

"You are Ginger!" barked Tina, cutting her off sharply. “And you’ll address me as Miss Prescott, or you’ll be prancing around this room completely naked for us in a heartbeat. Now take off your pants, this instant, otherwise I'll have Ricky and Paula do it for you. And I don't think you want that, do you?"

Dr. Withers practically glowed with satisfaction. There was no question who was in control.

"Talk to me, Ginger," persisted Tina, stepping even closer. "Use your words. Show me you understand."

“Yes, Miss Prescott,” Monica whispered, barely audible.

Tears threatened at the corners of her eyes as she reached for the button of her slacks. She could feel the weight of four sets of eyes soaking in her every move, drinking in her shame. Stalling, she bent down first to slip off her 2½-inch heels, buying herself a few extra seconds to summon the courage to take the next fateful step.

She took a deep breath, then, with trembling fingers, she undid the button, tugged down the zipper, and slowly lowered her pants down to her ankles, exposing her black hipster panties and her long, graceful legs to the hungry eyes of her audience. The air felt cool against her bare skin. A beat passed, and then...

“Yip!” Ricky let out a startled, unintentional squeak of surprise and delight. The room erupted in giggles as Paula and Tina laughed.

“I’ll take those,” Tina announced, already rising from her seat and strolling toward her embarrassed ‘student.’ With her cheeks aflame, Monica stepped free of the fabric pooled around her feet and handed the pants to Tina, unable to meet her gaze. The accidental brush of their fingers only made her more self-conscious.

"Thank you, Ginger," said Tina as she looked Monica up and down, her eyes lingering deliberately on her chest, her hips, her legs. She grinned lasciviously. "You look absolutely ravishing."

With a satisfied smile, she sauntered back to her seat and draped Monica’s pants over the back of her chair. She shot a smug nod toward Dr. Withers before crossing her legs and settling in, looking immensely pleased with herself.

Monica now stood clad only in her matching bra and panties, her arms wrapped tightly across her chest. Her skin was flushed, her knees trembling. Her embarrassment had reached a level she had never experienced, or even imagined possible. And deep in her gut, she knew that somehow, impossibly, it would soon intensify even further.

Chapter 7: Paraded in Underwear

Monica Prescott clung to a desperate hope that she wouldn’t actually have to parade around the office in her underwear in front of this captivated audience. Her heart pounded as she stood there, acutely aware of every pair of eyes fixed upon her nearly naked form.

But for Tina Minsky, having Monica strip off her pants was merely the appetizer. The main course, she decided, needed a little extra spice. “You can slip your heels back on, Ginger,” Tina purred. "They will really accentuate those lovely legs of yours.”

Monica hesitated, then, with visible reluctance she bent, jamming her feet back into the black patent leather heels.

“Perfect, Ginger,” Tina said, clearly savoring every moment of Monica's degradation. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs. “All dolled up in your undies and dress shoes. You look absolutely delicious. Now be a dear and uncross your arms and drop your hands to your sides so we can see you properly. No need to hide yourself from us; we're all friends here."

Monica flushed even deeper, if that were possible, the heat of her shame spreading from her chest to her hairline. She reluctantly dropped her arms to her sides, exposing her slim, scantily clad figure to the enthralled audience. The cool air of the office brushed against her bare skin, raising goosebumps that had nothing to do with the temperature.

“That's better,” Tina said approvingly. “Much, much better. You have a lovely figure, Ginger. You should be proud to show it off. Most women would kill to look like you in their underwear.” She paused, openly admiring Monica's figure and taking obvious pleasure in her embarrassment. "Now, I’d like you to strut for us,” Tina continued. “Just head toward the door, then turn and come back. Nice and slow. Let us appreciate the view.”

It took every ounce of Monica's fraying resolve, but somehow she managed to put one foot in front of the other and perform her walk of shame. Each step felt like a mile, every movement subject to the scrutiny of eyes she could feel boring into her back, her legs, and her barely covered backside.

As she made her way back toward the entertained group, Monica's gaze darted involuntarily across the faces watching her. Dr. Withers maintained her professional smile, as though this was perfectly normal, simply another part of the therapeutic process. Paula leaned forward with undisguised fascination, her eyes bright with cruel delight. Tina watched her approach with a broad grin, looking thoroughly pleased with herself.

And then there was Ricky. Monica noticed with sickening disgust that he had a hand in his pocket and was clearly, unmistakably massaging his crotch through the denim. His face held a glazed expression of arousal that made her feel even more exposed.

Who could blame him? Here was a beautiful young lady marching around in her bra and panties—the fact that she was doing so against her will undoubtedly added to the spectacle—and he was a fourteen-year-old boy with raging hormones. It was by far the sexiest thing Ricky had seen in his entire life, and the realization of his enjoyment added a whole new dimension to her humiliation.

"Wonderful," Tina said gleefully as Monica completed her circuit. "Absolutely wonderful. You have a natural grace, Ginger."

Monica stood frozen, praying this would be the end, that Tina would tire of her game and release her from this nightmare. But Tina had other ideas.

“Let’s do that again, shall we? This time let’s add a little flourish. Put your left hand on your hip... good... now your right one behind your head... elbow out. Yes! Ginger, you sexy little mama! Now give us that strut again, nice and slow, and don’t forget to sway those hips."

Blushing furiously, Monica did as instructed, moving back and forth before them with a subtle, reluctant rhythm, mortified yet obedient. The pose felt ridiculous, like something from a cheap burlesque show, but that did nothing to diminish its effectiveness as a tool of humiliation.

"Oh, yes, Ginger, we're getting our own private Victoria's Secret Fashion Show here!" Tina exclaimed, to the accompaniment of Paula's appreciative laughter. "Look at her go! Professional model in the making!"

Again Monica returned and stood crimson-faced before the group.

"That was outstanding, Ginger!" Tina complimented. "I'm almost done with you, but I'd like you to do that one more time for me. You're doing such a good job; let's finish strong."

Monica started to turn around, desperate to comply and end this, before Tina stopped her with an upraised hand.

"Wait, wait, wait," Tina said, her smile widening. "I'm not done giving instructions. Like I was about to say, I'd like you to do that one more time for me—only this time without the bra."

The words hit Monica like a physical blow. She looked at Tina with open-mouthed horror, her mind reeling. She hadn't made the real Ginger take off her bra. This went further than she ever had, further than Monica had ever imagined this scenario could go.

"Please," Monica stammered, her composure cracking. "I didn’t make Gin—" She caught herself just in time. Breaking character would only provoke Tina further. “Miss Prescott,” Monica said carefully, eyes wide with dread, "I thought... I thought I was only going to have to do this in my under... with my bra on. That was the understanding. This was supposed to be—"

"Well, if you must know, Ginger," Tina interrupted, “that was indeed the plan. The original plan, anyway. But you're putting on quite a show and, well, to be honest, I'm finding the whole scene rather... erotic. Why stop now when we're all having such a good time? So, if you'll kindly hand your bra over, we can get on with your sexy show. Don't be a spoilsport, Ginger. Everyone's enjoying themselves."

Monica, visibly shaken, looked toward Dr. Withers, clinging to the tiniest hope of reprieve. But one look at the psychiatrist’s smiling, encouraging face erased any illusions of rescue. The doctor wasn't going to save her. No one was going to save her.

Monica looked like she was about to cry, which was not lost on Tina. “Okay, new idea,” she said cheerfully, springing from her chair. She crossed the room with brisk steps and dragged Monica’s chair closer, positioning it directly in front of the group, no more than three or four feet away.

"There," Tina said, surveying her handiwork with satisfaction. "Much better. More intimate." Before returning to her seat, Tina gave Monica an intimate friendly pat on her buttocks.

“Have a seat, Ginger,” she said. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you walk around topless for us,” she said, resuming her seat. "But you will surrender your bra. You need to be embarrassed, truly embarrassed, and I think it will be entertaining for all of us to have your little titties on display. You know, I'll bet Ricky hasn't seen a naked breast since he sucked on his mommy's nipple when he was a baby." She looked over at Ricky. "Have you, Ricky? Have you seen any breasts lately? Real ones, not on a computer screen."

It was Ricky's turn to blush, even though he was smiling. He shook his head in response, his eyes never leaving Monica's chest. Though he thought he was being discreet with his busy hand in his pocket, it was not lost on any of the other four in the room. All but one of the four found it amusing.

Tina leaned closer. “There you have it, Ginger. It would be a shame to keep such a treat from the young lad, wouldn't it? Think of it as a public service. It could be quite memorable, for both of you." Tina’s grin stretched wide, in stark contrast to Monica’s eyes, which held a look of utter misery.

Now seated just a few feet in front of her captivated audience, Monica sat hunched forward, her spine curved into a defensive C-shape, her knees pressed tightly together, her arms once again wrapped across her chest in a futile attempt at modesty. She shivered, not only from dread but from the chill in the room that suddenly felt icy against her exposed skin. The air conditioning, set by Dr. Withers to a brisk 64 degrees, had done its job. Goosebumps dotted Monica’s exposed arms and legs as she awaited the inevitable instructions from "Miss Prescott."

"You need to take your bra off, Ginger," Tina said, her voice firm now. "And I mean now. If I have to ask you again, I'll have to take you over my knee and give you a spanking. And in case you're wondering, I will pull your panties down before I spank you."

The provocative warning elicited a hearty giggle from Paula and prompted Ricky to knead his groin in earnest, his movements less concealed now, more urgent.

There was no question in Monica's mind that Tina would not hesitate to follow through with her threat of a bare-bottomed spanking. Indeed, Tina would probably leap at the opportunity, would relish the chance to add physical humiliation to the psychological torture. Monica knew what she had to do.

"Oh, God," she whimpered quietly to herself as she reached behind her back, fumbling slightly with the clasp. With trembling fingers, she unhooked the bra, slid her arms from the straps, and held the cups firmly over her bare chest.

“I’ll take that,” Tina chirped, springing up with an outstretched hand. Monica grudgingly held up the garment, which Tina promptly snatched and casually draped it over the back of her own chair, where it came to rest on top of Monica's previously relinquished pants.

The thoroughly humiliated Monica, now naked but for a pair of panties and heels, leaned completely forward from the waist. Her elbows dug into her thighs as her crisscrossed arms clenched her chest as tightly as possible. Of course, this posture would be short-lived, even as much as Tina was relishing it.

"Sit up straight, Ginger," she ordered.

The now scarlet-faced Monica managed to sit up and press her back to her chair.

"We want to see your little breasts, Ginger. Let's get your hands behind your head so we all can have a nice look. Elbows back. Display yourself properly. Show us what you've got."

The shame in Monica's eyes deepened, becoming something almost tangible. But she obeyed. Her arms rose slowly, fingers lacing behind her head, elbows pulled back and out, a position that thrust her chest forward. Her breasts were fully exposed to the small but rapt audience, her nipples tightened from cold and fear and mortification.

Monica's newest indignity sparked two notable reactions. The first was a burst of delighted, almost childlike laughter from the enraptured Paula, which served to amplify Monica’s already overwhelming sense of shame.

The second came from Ricky, who, overwhelmed by the relentless surge of erotic tension, could no longer contain himself and finally succumbed to the mounting physical and mental stimulation. His involuntary groan was mostly drowned out by Paula's hilarity, but Monica's perceptiveness and high state of sensitivity—the hyper-awareness that came with her extreme vulnerability—allowed her to recognize Ricky's fulfillment, much to her chagrin. The only saving grace, for Ricky, at least, was that his dark jeans helped disguise the physical evidence of his gratification.

Tina, meanwhile, was savoring every second. “My, my, Ginger,” she teased, grinning broadly as she leaned forward in her chair. “I don’t know what’s more striking—your glowing cheeks or those tiny little titties.” She tilted her head and studied Monica’s chest with admiration. The cool air of the office—and probably, in no small part, Monica's burning embarrassment—had caused her nipples to harden and stand at attention.

"And your little nipples are so cute!" Tina exclaimed, clapping her hands together with genuine delight. "Are you embarrassed, Ginger? Tell the truth now." Monica gave a tiny, pitiful nod. “Answer me properly,” Tina chided. “And remember how to address me.”

"Yes, Miss Prescott," Monica managed to mutter.

“Louder, please. I don't think Paula and Ricky heard you.”

Monica swallowed hard, her voice cracking as she repeated, "Yes, Miss Prescott. I'm... I'm embarrassed, Miss Prescott."

“On a scale of one to ten,” Tina asked playfully, “how humiliated do you feel right now?”

Monica hesitated, cheeks burning. “Ten,” she whispered.

"10, Miss Prescott," admonished Tina.

"10, Miss Prescott," said the real Miss Prescott submissively.

“I’ll bet,” said Tina, settling back with satisfaction, crossing her legs and draping one arm over the back of her chair. “I know I would be, sitting there in nothing but panties, with everyone staring at my itty-bitty titties." Again she paused to let Monica soak up the excruciating humiliation. Then, in a tone almost too casual: "I must say, this really is stimulating, Ginger. I'm so tempted to pull your panties off and parade you around the room naked for us."

Monica’s reaction was immediate. Her eyes widened in horror. “No!” she gasped, then quickly corrected herself. “I mean—please, Miss Prescott! I’m begging you... please don’t make me do that.”

Tina tapped her chin, pretending to weigh her options. “Hmmm. Ask me nicely, Ginger,” she said with a wicked smile. “And maybe, maybe I’ll think about it.”

“Please, Miss Prescott,” Monica begged, her voice trembling with genuine desperation now. “Please don’t make me walk around naked.”

Tina again tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Tell you what. We’ll take a vote. Majority rules." She turned to address the others. "Who wants to see Ginger cavort around the room naked? Paula, you go first, and feel free to add a comment."

Paula didn’t even blink. "I vote yes! she said, grinning. “It would be so entertaining to watch Ginger shake that naked booty for us!”

Tina laughed. “That’s one vote yes." She turned back to Monica, smiling wider. "Ginger, it’s only fair that you get a vote too. After all, this is about your body. Would you like to shake your naked booty for us?"

Monica was looking straight down at her bare thighs. "No... please," she pleaded submissively.

“Comment, please, or I can’t count your vote.”

“I... I just... you’ve already humiliated me enough,” she whimpered. “Please... I can't bear any more. Please don't make me..."

“Okay, that’s one vote no, on the grounds of excessive humiliation," Tina said cheerily. “We’re tied at one. Ricky, what do you say? A naked romp around the room for Ginger or not?"

Ricky, who only minutes before had achieved sexual climax, nonetheless had already felt another stirring in his loins at the prospect of ogling a naked woman in the flesh. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his face flushing as he realized everyone was waiting for his response. Finally, he spoke his first words since the session began. “Um... yes. I vote yes," was his predictable response, though he couldn't quite meet Monica's eyes.

“Comment, Ricky?” Tina asked, fighting a grin. "Don't be shy. Tell us why you want to see poor Ginger naked. In detail, please."

He swallowed. “She’s, um... really beautiful and... and, um... it’d be, uh, totally awesome to see her naked. All of her, I mean. Not that... not that she isn't already... I just..." He trailed off, his face now the color of a ripe tomato.

Monica visibly winced, her cheeks turning yet another shade of crimson. Paula and Tina both burst into delighted laughter, the sound filling the room.

“Well said, Ricky," laughed Tina, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “Very profound. Very poetic. So that's two yes votes and one no. I'm afraid it's not looking good for our dear Ginger, unless a miracle swoops in to save her panties..."

And that miracle arrived in the form of Dr. Withers. “I’m afraid our time is up,” she announced firmly. Audible groans of disappointment emanated from her three seatmates. "Tina and Monica, I want to commend you for a wonderful job with your role-playing," Dr. Withers continued. "Paula and Ricky, I want to thank you for your assistance today. I do think your participation was beneficial toward Miss Prescott's rehabilitation." It was a dismissal, and the trio rose from their seats with varying degrees of reluctance. Monica, relieved beyond measure, began to rise as well, her eyes already darting toward where her clothes lay folded, hoping to retrieve them and restore some fragment of her dignity. But Dr. Withers stopped her with a raised hand. “Monica, you may remain seated. The session is over, but I’d like you to sit quietly for a few minutes and reflect on today’s experience. Think about what you've learned about vulnerability and trust."

Monica’s eyes anxiously followed Tina, who turned to collect the neatly folded pants and bra from the back of her chair. As Tina approached, Monica reached for her clothing, but instead of returning them, Tina leaned over and planted a big, wet, unreciprocated kiss on Monica's lips, her hand clutching Monica's chin to hold her in place for a long, horrible moment. Monica recoiled in stunned revulsion, her whole body jerking backward, while Tina continued on her way, smiling brightly.

“Wait!” Monica cried, reaching out. “My clothes!”

Tina glanced over her shoulder with a wink. “Don’t worry, Miss Prescott. I’ll take good care of them. You can pick them up on your way out.” With that she strode out of the room, closing the door purposefully behind her.

Monica, dumbfounded and panty-clad, grimaced as she wiped Tina’s saliva from her mouth with the back of her hand, scrubbing at her lips in an effort to remove any lingering trace of their intimate contact. Slowly, she turned toward Dr. Withers, who had already returned to her desk, leaving Monica alone to process the humiliating events of the past hour in silence.

Caroline Withers wore a look of quiet satisfaction. She poured herself a snifter of cognac and sank back into the comfort of her leather chair. Taking a measured sip, she fixed her gaze once more on the trembling young woman seated just a few feet away. The devilish psychiatrist’s smile deepened as she drank in the delicious scene, already anticipating next week's session with eager interest.

Loved the artwork! I have read this story numerous time and, as you know, it is still one of my favorites of yours. Looking forward to seeing what happens next.

Hooked6

I'm also familiar with the story from the other site but am enjoying reading it again and hopeful that there will be new additions to where the previous incarnation stopped.

Still great writing... enjoying seeing (well reading about) Monica getting her just desserts... I know this is nowhere near finished, but I can't help thinking ahead.

Whilst not intending to take away from this story in any way, shape or form, any chance of a sequel? On the basis that simply 'repeating' with a new patient might be a bit 'boring'... maybe contrived somehow so that the SP (and/or Tina's) treatment of this (and other?) patients comes to light (maybe SP throws Tina under the bus), giving SP/Tina a taste of their own medicine... dragged through the courts/court of public opinion... even more humiliating (public punishment?) for them, of course, to have been discovered (however) behaving as they did.

Just a random thought while waiting with baited breath for the next chapter

Really enjoyed the interaction between Tina and Monica!! More please!!

If I remember correctly the story stopped in a few more chapters after the assistant convinces her to visit her home on a weekend as a server or maid. As part of the therapy, of course.

Hope to read more of it.

Can't wait for the next chapter.

I think I'm one of a minority on here who hasn't read this story before, so I'm hoping I won't have to wait too long.

I'm also hoping there won't be too many spoilers