8 mins read

We climbed out of the car, and a cool breeze brought my nipples to attention.

Marching me inside the house, you walked behind me, no doubt to enjoy Chris’s reaction to the nipple show.

“Hey, girl! So good to see you!” Chris greeted me with open arms, leaning in for a hug. Pulling back, she looked me over good-naturedly. “How are you? How was the flight-” her gaze stopped at my chest and she giggled. “Was it cold on the plane?” she teased.

Instinctively, I looked down at my chest, and blushed at how visible everything was through my tank top.

“Oh!” I feigned surprise. “I guess so.”

I swatted your arm and playfully admonished you for “not telling me.” 

“Yeah, not sure why I’d want to interfere with that,” you replied, your voice full of mischievous charm.

I made no move to cover myself, but followed your instructions to a T. Making polite small talk with you and Chris, my perky nipples and I stood there being ogled, while I kept an eye on the clock.

Precisely five minutes later, I yawned with an extravagant stretch. Tingles rippled through me as my nipples brushed against the fabric of my top.

“Oof, I am beat,” I said my lines like a dutiful girl. “Sorry to be lame, Chris, but I really need to call it a night.”

“Oh my god, don’t even worry about it. Travel is like, so exhausting.” She gave me another hug, and you sent me off with a little pat on my ass.

“I’ll be in soon, babe.”

You winked at me and turned back to your friend, while I pulled my suitcase into our room.

Setting my luggage aside, I did as I’d been told. I took off my kicks and socks and padded over to the sink in our en suite bathroom. Using a warm washcloth, I freshened up my face and body, then rehydrated my travel-weary skin with your favorite lotion.

Picking up my toothbrush, I paused and tugged at my leggings and panties, pulling them down to my knees. I stood there brushing, in front of a mirror large enough to give me a full view of my humbling condition.

I heard our bedroom door open. You came into the room, sat on our bed, and watched me demean myself for you. With my ass and (increasingly wet) pussy exposed, the simple act of brushing my teeth became an exercise in self-abasement.

When I finished, I turned to you and waited.

“Well,” you prompted, “next time, how will you do a better job of remembering things?”

“I um, I could write them down?” I suggested.

“An obvious but effective option,” you agreed. “What else?”

“I could schedule reminders in my phone,” I offered.

“That’s a good idea,” you praised, and I swelled ever so slightly with pride. “But you’d have to be sure and take care of your task as soon as your alarm went off.”

“Yes, of course, Boss. Absolutely.”

“This is a good start,” you said, as you motioned me over to you. “But I’m going to have a nightcap with Chris, and I want you to think a little bit more about how frustrating it is for other people when you forget things. Does that sound fair?”

“Yes, Boss,” I nodded.

“I think so, too,” you mused. “Take off your leggings, but not your panties.”

I did as I was told, and then slipped out of my tank top, per your instructions. 

You examined me, standing before you in nothing but a pair of panties down around my knees, and a bra adjusted to leave my naked tits propped up, on display… 

“This will do,” you decided, and stood up. “Wait here.”

You walked to our closet and I heard you rustling around for something.

“Get on the bed,” you commanded, “and crawl to the headboard.”

Obeying at once, I was careful to climb up and crawl slowly, so as not to disrupt your careful arrangement of my lingerie.

When I reached the headboard, you had me lie on my stomach, propped up on my elbows. Brandishing the leather handcuffs you’d procured from the closet, you fastened my wrists to the headboard’s wooden slats.

“Lift up your hips,” you directed, and I complied, sticking my ass in the air. “Higher.”

As soon as my bare ass was properly elevated, you slid a pillow underneath my hips, leaving me trussed up in that position.

“Hmm… something’s not quite right.”

I could feel your eyes evaluating me as you paced at the foot of the bed. Your hands took hold of my ankles, then you gently shoved my legs apart, spreading them wide until my panties strained against my skin.

“That’s it. Now be a good girl and wait here.”

I could hear the smirk in your voice as you left the room. You started talking to Chris before the door was fully closed, and my entire body flushed, wondering if she’d caught a glimpse of me, prostrate and exposed, tethered to our bed.

It was already agony, waiting for you to come back… not knowing what you would do with me - if anything! - upon your return. 

Propped up on my elbows, my tits spilled out in just such a way that my nipples grazed the comforter. With the tiniest shift, a jolt of fervor shot through my body, from the tips of my exposed nipples down to my toes. Restrained in such a lewd, tawdry position, every inch of me ached for your touch.

I could hear the two of you talking and laughing in the other room, and couldn’t help but wonder if you were telling Chris about my compromised situation… I was squirming at the thought when you came back into the room.

“Tsk, tsk. Hold still, naughty girl.”

I obeyed at once, settling into all the steadiness I could muster. To my surprise, you unlocked the handcuffs and ordered me to stand up. As soon as I complied, you stripped me of my flimsy lingerie and left me standing there naked, watching as you rifled through my dresser drawers.

You handed me a tight, white t-shirt and a pair of underwear. The black, satiny fabric featured a pale pink band around the top. You referred to them as my “secretly naughty” panties, because they were technically full coverage, but when I wore them they didn’t quite cover my substantial ass.

“Put these on,” you instructed, and I obediently squeezed into the tiny “outfit.” 

When I finished, you looked me up and down, approvingly. My breasts strained against the snug cotton of my t-shirt, making it quite clear that I wasn’t wearing a bra. I could already feel my ass cheeks threatening to escape the sides of my silken panties.

That will do,” you said. “In about five minutes, I want you to join us in the living room, wearing only this.” I whimpered and squirmed, but you only smirked and went on. “Tell Chris you couldn’t sleep, and that you’re sorry for being such a negligent host. Then you will stay as long as I want, but you will not sit down. You will only do two things: serve us food and drink, and clean up around us - making sure you’re always visible, so we can enjoy the sight of your indecent, barely clothed body. Is that clear?”

I nodded, fidgeting where I stood.

“Yes, Boss…”

“Good. And make sure you keep these at attention.”

Pulling me close, you tweaked both of my nipples, pinching and twisting until they were sufficiently on display. I moaned quietly, panting and wriggling under your torment.

“Yes… ohh… of course, B-ohhhh… of course, Boss…”

“That’s a good girl. Five minutes.”

You smirked again and gave me a light slap on the ass before leaving the room.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror, and flushed at the thought of traipsing around like this in front of your friend. What would she think of me? The way you’d dressed me left virtually nothing to the imagination. My tits and ass were so conspicuous, I might as well be walking around naked… 

I glanced at the clock, wanting to be sure I didn’t miss my cue. You were already making me parade around in my skivvies in front of a guest - if I screwed anything up, you’d almost certainly decide to punish me in front of her, too.

Eva Monroe is a gal’s gal, guy’s gal, gal about town. She has a very active imagination and lots of opinions and frequently writes those things down. From screenplays to news articles to academic essays, Eva loves taking on the challenge of writing in new mediums, and her smut-tastic adventures with Bellesa are some of the most fun she’s ever had. Eva also co-produced two award-winning short films and has an MFA in screenwriting. Eva Monroe is not her real name.