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  • Yes, it was for a mere second. Yet, given what he has seen, surely more than enough. My already virulent blush grows even darker and hotter as I contemplate the defeat of my modesty. I curse the hem of my dress, the seats of the bar, the unsympathetic bar girl, the uncooperative dress, my troublesome panties, the man who is taking such wicked advantage of my helplessness.

    And, most of all, I curse my condition adult indian movies sites !

    I tug at my dress yet again, making another pathetic attempt to control it, if only for a second or so, trying to gain blessed relief from knowing I am showing my suspenders, my stocking tops, my slip, to the man who is already in complete control of the situation.

    And then, even this brief respite from shame is denied me. He looks up and meets my gaze, and, though his lips form no words, the command in his eyes is clear. Do not pull down your dress. Let it ride up as much as it likes. Let it show everything you have on underneath.

    I hang my head in shame, a slave, helpless, my submission in full flow. I can no more defy him than I could sprout wings and fly, have as much chance of disobeying his command as I have the laws of gravity. He has ordered, and I have no choice but to obey. I am too weak, too helpless, too broken in will to do otherwise.

    I sit, now and then sipping at my drink, not touching my dress. Now that it is not subject even to my pathetic attempts at control, it rides up with a vengeance. Soon, I am sure, not only the bands of my stockings but the pale flesh above them will be on show to his appreciative eye. Like a bird fascinated by a snake I sit helpless, unable to resist, completely subject to his domination.

    He stares openly now, making no attempt at subtlety. I continue to look down at the table, my face burning with shame, biting my lip like a ridiculous overgrown schoolgirl. Sometimes, at such times, I cry at this point, though usually I can at least hold back that particular shame until later.

    Without looking, I know he requires me to meet his gaze again. I am forced to obey. Again, his lips speak no words, yet his deep blue eyes tell me all I need to know.

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    My own eyes respond, pleading, Please, they say, not that. The legs of my panties, I try desperately to convey, have rucked up, and no longer cover my sex. I am, in a very real sense, naked under my dress. Please, I beg of you, don't insist on this. You've already seen everything I have on, know all my secrets, have reduced me to utter helplessness. Please, please, please... have mercy.