Tyra ran to the bathroom and tore off her humiliating costume, apart from the hated petticoat which of course wouldn't budge. She jumped in the shower and turned on the water, and began scrubbing her face to remove the makeup. Tyra fought to hold back tears. She felt degraded and turned the water uncomfortably hot because she felt dirty, but the patter of water drops off the petticoat just reminded her that she was a prisoner and a slave.
After a few minutes of compulsively scrubbing to get clean, and feeling thoroughly sorry for herself, she heard the voice of her captor. "That's enough. Now go to bed."
Tyra turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, then lunged for a towel. "No. I like you wet." She stopped. Water dripped from her hair and ran down her back, luscious brown breasts and firm legs, but the petticoat was already dry and back to its horrible fluffy, bouncy self. Sighing sadly, Tyra reached for her bathrobe. "No. In private you will never wear anything except the petticoat. Now go to bed."
Tyra bit her lip in frustration. Bad enough that she was being controlled by a pervert and spied on in her own home, but having to give this sicko an unending peep show without ever being able to cover up was worst of all. She remembered one time riding the train, and there was some old sleazy man who couldn't take his eyes off her chest, and she remembered how sick and filthy it made her feel. Well, now there was another pervert leering at her, probably staring at her tits right now, and she couldn't do anything about it. Feeling grumpy and humiliated, Tyra stamped off to her bedroom.
As she opened the door, she let out a little scream of surprise. |