NEW: A Walk in the Park [2/3] (emb voy exh nc)

[Peter the Grate]

Story : A Walk in the Park
Author : Peter the Grate
Released : 22 Nov, 1994
Description : A young lady encounters fierce weather and gang members in
: a rather embarrassing, compromising day at community college
: and the evening walk home.
Themes : embarrassment, voyeurism, humiliation, panty-fetish, mild
: violence (no hitting or rape (but close)), non-consentual
: exhibitionism (the best kind :^).

=============================== Part 2/3 ==================================

her blouse off, avoiding eye contact with the leering thugs,
while revealing her silky, pink, see-through bra. She stood on
the roof now with her arms crossed in front of her bra, her
blouse hanging limply from the fingers of one hand.

"Gimme that!" sneered the punk, snatching it from her
fingers.

"No!" she cried helplessly, "my blouse!" But she was too
late in reaching after it.

Cathy moaned softly, watching him toss it through the open
window on to the back seat of the car. She wrapped one arm
tightly around her chest to cover her bra, making her best effort
to keep her skirt together with her free hand.

"Damn, yeah, that's a -lot- better," he jeered, staring
greedily at her. "Now I'm sure some kid in Africa would just
fuckin' die to have a dress like that," he giggled lasciviously.

"What? No!," she wailed, "Not that! Please don't take my
skirt!" she pleaded, thinking about the panties she had on
underneath. Unconsciously she drove her hand more forcefully into
her groin.

"You already have my blouse, can't that just be enough? Do
you want money? I'll give you everything I have - I can get more!
Please don't make me take my dress off. I have to get home. I
can't go home like this. Please! You said if I took my blouse off
you would let me go. And I did, and you have it, and I.. I
just..."

Cathy helplessly bared her bra to him, holding her arms out,
as if to entice his sense of compassion and decency. She felt, as
much as saw all of their eyes playing across the thin pink nylon
that she was exhibiting. Her pinkish-brown nipples drew their
hungry stares, more visible through the sheer nylon than Cathy

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A Walk in the Park

would ever have allowed, had she only paid more attention to her
attire that morning.

"Well, now, shit...," teased the leader, "tell you what. Ya
know, you're right, I did say that." Cathy visibly relaxed, her
shoulders drooping slightly with relief.

"But...," he countered. Cathy tensed, looking up again, eyes
darting nervously to his. "You just kinda got my curiosity goin'
now. I can see your tits through your bra when you show it to me
like that, and now I'm wonderin' if everything you're wearin' is
a nice lookin' as that."

A look of dread swept Cathy's features, as she processed his
statement. Instinctively, her hands drew back up to again cover
her bra, as she understood how clearly he could see through her
bra.

"Why doncha show us," he commanded. "Just pull your dress up
so we can satisfy our curiosity."

"No, I...," Cathy faltered, slowly shaking her head.

"C'mon, pull it up and show us all your pretty, little
undies and we'll call it a night, huh?" He smiled, toying with
his prey. Seeing her hesitate, he added, "You -do- want us to let
you go, right?"

"Ye.. yeah," she stammered. Her hands slowly lowered to the
gathers of her skirt, as though she subconsciously knew what she
had to do, even if she couldn't accept it emotionally. She held
out, though, for a miracle, a reprieve. "But please don't make me
do this," she implored. I can't show you my p.. panties. It's
too..."

"Pull it up," he demanded. "We all wanna see what your
hidin' under there. I think they're pink..."

"You'll let me go?" Cathy begged. Her fingers worked at the
sides of the thin cotton garment, slowly sliding it upwards to
reveal her slender, nubile legs. She raised her skirt up to her
white upper thighs, hoping, with the hem just below her private
parts, for an answer.

Her eyes beseached his for mercy. He just stared at her.

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A Walk in the Park

"Raise it up high," he said coldly. "I want to see it all."
He licked his lips in anticipation, relishing the control that he
was exercising over his defenseless quarry.

Cathy stifled a sob, her chest heaving only slightly as she
caught it before it escaped. Averting her tearing eyes, more out
of shame than modesty, she did what was commanded of her. She
raised her skirt up, revealing the center of her silky panties
for them all to enjoy.

Their stares pored hungrily over the satiny nylon that she
was compelled to expose to them, their eyes probing even higher
and to the sides, in an effort to strip her of all possible
privacy and dignity.

"Higher," ordered the leader. "All the way up. And turn
around, while you do it. We want to see the back, too." One of
the others snickered, enjoying the show Cathy was providing.

She complied, reluctantly, but nonetheless completely. Her
hopes of humility dashed, she held the sides of her skirt out to
the sides and then raised it nearly to her shoulders, fully
exposing her risqu panties to their scrutiny. As the cool
evening breeze fluttered her upraised tresses, Cathy performed a
slow, nervous pirouette, granting them a generously erotic view
of her pantied rear-end.

She completed her turn, once again facing front. Afraid of
incuring his wrath by lowering her dress, she was careful to hold
the hem up high, yielding him a full frontal view of her
delectable lingerie when she addressed him.

"Okay? Is that enough?" she implored, "I did what you said.
I showed you my underwear. I showed it all. Please,... can I have
my blouse back now?"

She slowly lowered her skirt and let it drop to again shroud
her privacy. The leader said nothing, as her hands crept slowly
back up to hide her exposed bra.

"Well," he said. "Now that's what I call one fine piece of
ass." Looking around him, he prompted the others for
encouragement, "Huh guys? Whaddaya think?"

"Shit yeah!" spewed one. "Fuckin' do her, man!"

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A Walk in the Park

At this, Cathy started to become alarmed again. What she had
thought concluded, now appeared to be taking an even more ominous
turn of course.

"Now that wouldn't be real nice, would it?" he asked the
others. "Puttin' her through all that and then not holdin' up to
my promise and all?"

Cathy looked at him, unsure of what he meant.

He reached into the back of the faded brown Pontiac and
retrieved her blouse. He looked at it for a few seconds,
seemingly pondering his own good nature.

"Here," he tossed it to her, "a deal's a deal. I won't take
your clothes."

Cathy gratefully accepted her blouse back, at first bunching
it protectively in front of her bra, and then quickly slipping it
on. As she began to button it, though, he interrupted.

"Now wait a sec, before you get too dolled up, there,
sweetheart," he said. Cathy stopped, fearful, having only
fastened the two top buttons. She had hoped with all her being
that this whole experience had been coming to a relatively
peaceful end. She looked down at him from the car roof.

"I said I wouldn't -take- your clothes," he furthered, "that
doesn't mean I'm done with this yet."

"What.. what do you mean?" Cathy ventured. "Can't I go now?
Please, let me go home, I have to get home soon."

Turning to her again, he said, "Ya know, after seeing just
how fuckin' great you look in your underwear, it just shows me
how much I really don't like the looks of that whole outfit
you're wearin'."

"It... what?" Cathy questioned.

"Yeah, I didn't realize it before, ya know? I guess I just
don't like the way it all.. struck me. It must be the pattern,..
or the material, or, oh fuck, I dunno," He laughed, glancing at
the others for their subordinate reaction and approval. The
others giggled in delight, seeing her squirm.

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A Walk in the Park

"Yeah, but I said I wasn't gonna take your clothes, and,
well...," he paused pensively, "I like to consider myself an
honest and decent guy."

Cathy looked on questioningly, uncertain of what direction
he was moving in.

"So, I guess we have a little problem, huh?" he asked.

Hesitating a few seconds, Cathy meekly responded, "I don't
think so."

"Yeah we do," he came back. "We have to figure out what to
do, see? We have to figure out what to do about me not liking
that outfit."

"Oh," she answered, almost inaudibly.

"Well, l think I know the best way to deal with this," he
announced. The other gang members listened, watching the
conversation and mental game being played out before them,
comprehending little other than the cruelty and animal lust that
they were experiencing and enjoying.

"I'll let you do the honors," and he reached into his
pocket, pulling out a small colored object.

Cathy looked. It was... a cigarette lighter. A lighter? What
could he want her to do with...

He tossed it up to the roof of the battered car, landing it
at Cathy's feet. She looked down uncertainly at it, not wanting
to confirm what her fears were concluding.

"Cremation's the only way to go," he said. "I just don't
think a pretty girl like you should be walkin' around wearin'
somethin' like that."

"No, please," Cathy pleaded, "I can't do that, I can't." She
implored him with her kindest, most sincere effort.

"Do it now," he warned, "or I'll do it for you. And I don't
think you want that. Besides, I think it's only right that you
have to honor of burning your own clothes. I think it's more
meaningful."

She hesitated.

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A Walk in the Park

"I'm waiting," he prodded. "Get it done."

Cathy moaned, kneeling. She picked up the lighter, examining
it momentarily before continuing. The others looked on in
delight, anticipating her burning her clothes for them.

"I... I can't burn my own...," she started.

"Do it!" he said again, raising his voice. He stepped
forward to the car, prompting Cathy into action.

"Okay, I will," she hurriedly replaied, "please don't hurt
me." She reached up and quickly popped the two buttons free. In
three quick seconds she was again reduced to only her bra. She
clutched her blouse in her hands, looking woefully at the
lighter.

"Burn it, baby, I don't like it," he ordered.

"God," Cathy muttered to herself. She flicked the lighter,
producing only an impotent spark. She nervously fumbled with it
twice more before getting a flame. Then, with her hands
trembling, she touched it to the nylon fabric.

The blouse burst into flame most agreeably. She jumped back
to avoid being burned, clasping her hands to her chest. She stood
up again as it quickly reduced to ashes and wisps of tattered
trash.

They all watched until the fire was no more, waiting almost
dramatically for a few seconds after.

"Well, that was fine," said the leader, obviously pleased
with how things were turning out.

Cathy, shielding her bra, softly asked, "May I please go
now?" She looked from one to the other, her gaze returning again
to the leader.

"Go?" he laughed calmy, gently, one might think almost
sociopathically. "We're not done yet, how can you go?"

She said nothing. Not done yet? What more was there to do?
He had just forced to burn her blouse in front of them. Why, he
had left her with only her... dress.

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A Walk in the Park

"You don't.... you don't mean...," and she saw him leer
sinfully, "oh, no... no, please." She grabbed her dress
frantically with one hand to hold it tightly against her.

"Yeah, I'm actually developing a real dislike for it, just
the same as for, uh, that" and he pointed to the little pile of
blowing ashes and scrap material by her feet. "And I think I'm
just gonna do what I shoulda done when I first saw it."

"No! Not my dress, I can't! Please, you've already seen
everything I have on, don't take my skirt!!" She seemed almost
frantic, on the verge of panicking.

"No, no, no," he teased, "same rules apply. It'll have to be
burned." He gestured toward her skirt casually, as though her
were directing a film scene. "Let's go."

Angrily, one of the other two stepped up to her. "Bitch, he
said take your dress off! Are you fuckin' deaf?", he yelled. He
grabbed the bottom edge and started tugging at it. "You want some
help?"

Cathy shrieked, baring her bra so she could try and hold her
skirt together. "Wait! Stop! Don't!" she wailed. But he yanked
harder, nearly pulling her off the roof of the car. The two metal
safety snaps, designed to hold the skirt together if the hook
failed, were the first to give, immediately popping apart.

"No! Stop! Please!!" she screamed. She struggled to both
keep from sliding off the roof and to save the tiny hook that was
now all that still was holding her skirt on. But she couldn't do
both. She had to forsake her skirt in an effort to keep from
falling off the car and breaking her neck. The little twist of
wire was not meant to take such stress and, after a few seconds,
tore free of the fabric.

In a flash, her thin skirt whipped off, leaving her stranded
on the car roof wearing nothing but a transparent bra and tissue-
thin panties.

Aiee!!" she screamed, suddenly feeling the cool air on her
nearly nude body, and she threw her arms in front of her to try
and conceal her skimpy underwear.

"Ooh, how sexy," taunted the third punk. He grinned, seeing
that he was getting to her. "Don't you feel embarrassed, standing
up on a car roof in see-through underwear in front of a bunch of

- 15 -


A Walk in the Park

guys?", he teased. He was clearly enjoying seeing Cathy so
embarrassed. "You look like a stripper or something."

"Please, give me my dress!" she pleaded, covering her body
poorly with her small hands. She felt dreadfully exposed, and
crossed one leg in front of the other in a vain attempt to
minimize the view they had of her bared physique.

"Now, you see," the leader admonished her, "the guys here
don't appreciate it when you don't do what I say. If I tell you
to do somethin', do it."

"I'm sorry," Cathy wailed, struggling "please, I'm sorry.
I -need- my dress. Please, don't do this."

"Look," he responded, "all I can do is take a vote on it,
okay? However the vote turns out, that's what we'll do."

Turning to his companions, he asked, "Guys, what'll it be?"

"I don't like her dress," one said, "I say burn it!"

"Okay," the leader said, "and you?" he asked, turning to the
other.

"I don't like it either," he said, "I think she looks a lot
better the way she is now." He gazed lustfully at Cathy in her
revealing attire.

"Darn," continued the leader. "Well, there you have it. Oh,
how do you vote? I guess it's only fair to ask."

"Please," she whimpered.

"Do you want to burn it?" he asked again.

"No," she softly uttered, shaking her head slowly,
powerlessly.

"Well, I have to tell ya," he taunted, "it mighta been
close, but I have to be honest. I don't like your dress either.
And that makes the vote three to one."

Cathy just stood there, unable to do anything, unable to
think of a response. How could this be happening, this, the worst
nightmare of her life come true?

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A Walk in the Park

He looked at the thug next to him, beckoning with a the flip
of the head to give Cathy her skirt. He grinned, tossing it at
her. Cathy caught it, draping it gratefully, if only momentarily,
in front of her.

Then the leader reached down and picked up the lighter. It
had fallen to the ground during Cathy's failed struggle to hold
onto her skirt.

Effecting his most cooperative smile, he politely reached up
and handed the device to Cathy. She knew she had no choice but to
submit, and nervously bent down, accepting it from him with the
reluctance of a child preparing for a spanking that he knew to be
inevitable. She could think of no recourse, no option to preserve
her clothing and her dignity.

"Please," she begged once more, unable to continue without
one last entreaty.

"Burn your dress," he ordered. "It'll teach you not to walk
around in public dressed like that anymore. This is your
punishment for wearin' stuff I don't like."

"No," she moaned, inwardly. But she continued, defeated,
overpowered.

In a way, she felt detached from her body. She watched her
hands move, but couldn't really be sure that she was consciously
directing the muscles. Time seemed to move slowly, as if she were
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