Lesson In Life

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: General Erotica  |  House: Stripping and Humiliation

A young adult's point of view of an ENF scenario that happens at his job when a thief is taught a life lesson.

Lesson In Life

My name is Sonny D'Angelo. I'm nineteen years old and my family is pure Italiano, going back more than eight generations. There is not a single drop of blood in my body that isn't one hundred percent Italian.

Up until last year, I was living with my mom and pop in a nice neighborhood. It was the kind of neighborhood that did things old school. You went to Church every Sunday after which one of the families of the church would always hold a barbecue The men would play cards, the kids would be off doing their own thing and God only knows what the women would get up to.

Funny thing is, I always took the women in our neighborhood for granted. That stopped a few nights ago, but I'll get back to that in a few minutes. Now, when I turned eighteen years old, I wanted to get out on my own and I found a nice little apartment to rent. Unfortunately, I was a little broke so I had no way of paying for said apartment.

Luckily, my mom came through in spades. She hooked me up with one of her old friends who owned a market, named Marie. This market was somewhere right in the middle between a convenience store and a supermarket. There were no gas pumps out front and the shelves weren't lined with junk food donuts and cakes. This market was stocked with anything and everything a cook needed to make an authentic Italian meal.

They also sold other things, like homemade statues and knickknacks, which is really where this story starts coming into fruition You see, there is an old man named Sal, who lives a few streets down. He is a master with his hands as long as there is some kind of tool in them. He will bore you to sleep if he starts talking but his creations will have you drooling at the mouth.

There was one in particular, a perfect carving of Frank Sinatra that went big after some mook bought it, took it home and tripled his money on Ebay. Real nice, right? You flipped the work of a hard working man in his late sixties to make a few bucks. Anyway, you would think that Sal would have raised the prices on it, right? Nothing doing. The prices stayed the same at $30.

So, I'm working at the market, which as a little in store bakery in it. My job is really to float around the entire market and do whatever needs doing. At this particular moment, I'm taking fresh Italian bread out of the oven. I notice this chickie, probably about twenty or so, walking around the aisles. This girl has some meat on her bones-- just on the verge of being overweight but she still looks pretty damn good.

She's got tits the size of baby watermelons and what a big, plump ass I see through that skirt. The skirt is some floral design coming all the way down to her ankles. Whether she outgrew the skirt or chose to wear it because of the tightness, I'll never know but it amplified her curves to the point that I had to roll my tongue back up into my mouth before I burnt it on the hot tray in front of me.

Another thing I notice about her is that she has an over sized purse. Now, this isn't really anything that I have much of an interest in, so I just shrug it off. How am I supposed to know what size purse chicks should be going around with. I notice her pausing at the end of the aisle where Sal's figures are and she is staring at them. She picks up the Frank Sinatra statue and studies it. At this point, I have to turn away and get back to work.

When the bread is out to cool, I take the hot pans to the sink and set them inside. I go back to where I was standing a few minutes ago and I notice the Frank Sinatra statue that she was holding was gone. Good for Sal was my first thought. Then, I headed up towards the register to tell Marie that the bread was cooling and ask what I should do next.

That's when I notice that this chick has put several items on the counter but the statue isn't among them. I want to remind everyone that yes, it's a $30 statue but the last one sold for about $120 on Ebay. So, in my head, I'm thinking this girl just stole $120 from Marie and I'm not going to let that happen.

I walk up and confront her. I tell her that I know she took the statue and that she needs to either pay for it or put it back. She gives me an evil eye and tells me that she has no idea what I am talking about and that I need to go away or she'll have me arrested for harassment

Marie is eyeing us both at this point and she looks at me and asks if I am sure. I tell her exactly what I saw. Now, there are a few other people in the market. A married couple and another woman who has come up to check out as well. Marie walks out from the register and locks the front door. She asks the other customers to keep an eye on this chickie and I follow her to where the statues are located.

I point out the exact spot that I had seen the Frank Sinatra statue and I even walk back to where I had been standing at the bakery section to show Marie that I had a perfect line of sight. After looking at all of the other statues, being exactly in the same position that Marie had stocked them, she motions for me to follow her back up to the register.

“First, let's settle up what you have on the counter,” Marie told the girl.

I was stunned that Marie still wanted this woman's business. However, Marie was my boss and I wasn't going to question her methods. I liked my job, it was good, honest work, and to get a job you actually enjoy and to like your boss-- that's pretty rare in this day and age.

So, I watched as the girl paid for everything on the counter with a credit card. When she put her credit card back in my purse, I caught a brief glimpse of the Frank Sinatra statue inside. What I saw next, I'll never forget. Not ever.

Marie reached underneath the counter and placed a sleek, black handgun on the counter much closer to her than it was to the woman. I'm a little skittish when it comes to guns-- I don't like them much and I've never had any need or desire to have one.

This girl's eyes nearly bug out of her head when she sees the handgun on the counter. Marie has this icy, “you don't want to mess with me” type of look in her eyes. Marie clearly warns the girl that if she reaches for the handgun again while the girl is in the store, she is going to use it. I can still remember the chill on my spine as she uttered those words.

Now, the chickie made the right move. She reached into her purse and pulled out the Frank Sinatra statue and set it on the counter. She began sputtering apologies left and right, telling Marie how she was usually such a good girl and she had never done any of this before. I could tell that Marie wasn't buying it. She once told me that thieves were the bane of existence and that nobody better be stupid enough to steal from her.

And here we were.

“You want the statue so bad? Pay me thirty dollars, take it and get out of here,” Marie told her.

A glimmer of hope flickered in Chickie's face and she immediately reached back into her purse and retrieved her credit card. Marie immediately shook her head and said that since it was one of Sal's figurines, she couldn't charge it to a credit card. Sal's profits were kept separate.

Chickie told Marie that she didn't have any money and said that she would put the statue back but Marie simply shook her head and said that wasn't good enough. She needed to pay for the statue and leave after all of the trouble she caused.

At this point, I couldn't wait to see what was going to happen. The gun was still on the counter and the thought of Marie shooting this girl was making my stomach sick-- yet this was one of the craziest, most interesting scenes that I had ever watched unfold.

“I love those sandals,” the married woman said, stepping up next to the chickie and looking down at sandals. “I wanted a pair just like that but they were sold out last time I was shopping. I'll give you ten bucks for them, right now.”

My eyes were dancing to every person in the store. The husband was reaching for his wallet as the chickie seemed to be considering his offer. Finally, she slipped her sandals off and winced slightly as her bare feet came in contact with the cold tiled floor. The married woman snatched the sandals off the floor and the husband handed Marie the ten dollars.

“Well, dear, you now owe me twenty dollars. Twenty dollars and the statue is yours. Twenty dollars and you are free to go,” Marie told her.

“I already told you, I don't have any money,” the girl whined.

“I'll tell you what. I'll buy your blouse for five,” Marie said suddenly. “Believe me, that is the only help you are getting from me. Either stay in debt for twenty or sell your blouse and bring it down to fifteen.”

At this point, I feel like I should confess something that no nineteen year old Italian should ever confess. I have never seen a woman in any state of undress. I know, it's crazy in this day and age, right? I don't go to the beach and I don't go online very much and when I do, I'm using my mother's computer so I don't go looking up naked women.

When chickie reluctantly agreed, I thought I was going to faint. I watched her unbutton this baby blue dress which matched the floral patterns of her skirt. About half way down the unbuttoning process, the two top ends parted ways and I was treated to half tits. The nipples and what not were still covered up but I was seeing more tit flesh than I had ever seen in my life.

She finally pulled the blouse completely off and handed it to Marie who tossed it behind her without any thought what-so-ever. It landed half on the back table, most of it hanging all the way down to the floor. Marie took five dollars of her own money and set it with the ten.

So there this chickie was, wearing a skirt that went down to her ankles and a bra that was struggling to maintain those super sized tits. Questions were piling up in my mind. Was this going to go any further? Was this chick embarrassed or what? The biggest question-- the question that was being asked probably by the wrong brain-- was what she had on under that long skirt. If I had been thinking with the brain that I was supposed to be thinking with, I probably wouldn't have blurted out--

“That skirt really belongs with the blouse. I'll buy it for five bucks and give it to you as a gift, Marie,” I said.

Everyone looked at me and the chickie looked as if she wanted to grab Marie's gun and shoot me dead. Marie, on the other hand, acted as if getting a gift from me was the most thoughtless act she had ever heard of and started praising my selflessness. 

I quickly pulled my own wallet out and withdrew five dollars before tucking the wallet back into my jeans and holding the five out. Marie asked chickie if she was going to accept my generous offer. Only when she nodded her head did Marie extend her hand out and take the five dollars, setting it down with the rest of the money.

A stop sign.

That is the thing that came into my mind when I saw the shade of redness the girl's face was. I'm a sucker for a blushing chickie. There is just something about the redness of their cheeks that sets me heart to thumping. This girl was doing it in spades as her fingers sought out the zipper of her skirt. When they finally found it, I could actually hear the dress unzipping as if it were being broadcast through a microphone.

The tautness of the dress seamingly (pun intended) disappeared and the dress started to descend on it's own towards the floor. Chickie was more or less facing me and she had on the cutest pair of black panties that I had ever seen. It was the gasp from the husband and wife that clued me in that there was more (or less!) to the panties than I knew.

The girl started to bend at the knees to pick the skirt up but Marie stopped her and told her to bend at the waist. I was left wondering why until chickie actually did it. I couldn't believe it! When she bent to pick up the skirt, I saw the hint of bare cheeks! She was wearing a thong! She was left with a bra and a thong in my place of employment.

Before Marie would take the girl's skirt, she ordered her to do a slow turn. I never considered myself to be slow of wits but it took me until that very moment to realize that Marie was exacting her own form a vengeance on this girl. This was a clear cut message-- this would be thief was being turned into an example to any fool that would think to steal anything from the market in the future.

When it was finally my turn-- when she turned her back completely to me and I saw that hearty plump ass in all of it's splendid glory: both cheeks completely bare with the sole exception of the thin black shoe string that ran in between her crack, I was in love. Or was it in lust? I didn't know and at that moment, I didn't care. The only thing I cared about was seeing more. I wanted to see her without the bra. Without the thong.

“As entertaining as this all has been,” the single woman said, moving forward. “I've got my parents and my sisters coming to dinner. A dinner that I haven't started yet. So, in the interest in moving this along, I'll give you ten dollars for your matching bra and panty set.”

An answer to the prayer that I had yet to pray. If I had no self control, I'd have pumped my fist into the air and shouted “Hallelujah!”. Marie quickly piped in that it was a very fair offer and that she will have paid for the Frank Sinatra statue that she wanted so desperately.

The chickie let out an enormous sigh before reaching behind her back to unclasp the back of her bra. I licked my lips in anticipation, hoping no one else noticed my doing so. Finally, the clasp was unhooked and the bra just sort of hung loosely on her tits until she brought her hands back from behind her. As soon as she did, the bra seemed to lurch forward before dropping to the floor unceremoniously.

In nineteen years, I had never once seen anything as glorious as my her naked tits. I took every single detail into my brain, hoping against hope that the image of these lovely tits would remain a vivid, immortal snapshot in my mind forever. The shape, the color, the hardness of her nipples-- I love my job!

When she bent down to pick up the bra, both tits hung loosely and I chuckled softly at the childish and immature notion that they resembled cow utters. When she deposited the bra on the counter, she looked around at everyone. A few tears were now trickling down her face-- this was the ultimate humiliation. In a moment's time, five strangers were going to see her naked body.

Jamming her thumbs into the sides of her thong, she tugged it down and whipped it off with such speed that I was unable to get a clear, unblurred shot of her pussy until she had deposited the thong on the counter.

She had a little tuft of pubic hair which could, in no means, be considered a bush. Still, I was completely mesmerized by the fact that I was witnessing my first naked woman and my eyes were currently locked on her pussy. She immediately tried to go for the classic ENF pose but found it impossible to cover both tits with her arm so she gave up on covering her pussy and just cupped the center of her tits with her hands.

“Right. Here is the statue and here are your bags. Get the hell out of my store. Sonny, unlock the door for her,” Marie said.

“Wait! What about my clothes?” the girl cried.

“Are you stupid? Your clothes were purchased,” Marie said.

Still crying, the girl put the statue back into her purse and grabbed both bags. Due to the weight of the bags, holding the bags in any position other than at her sides for more than a moment or two would have been next to impossible for her. I unlocked the door and stepped aside so that she could go out.

“Marie, I was thinking,” I said. “Maybe we could work something out.”

“What?” Marie asked, her eyes narrowing.

“Maybe it would be good for business to have an attractive girl working in the bakery full time,” I suggested.

Marie laughed and shook her head. She looked over at the other customers and gave them a “can you believe the balls on this kid” kind of look.

“Can you believe this? She comes in here and steals from me and he wants I should pay her,” Marie said, making the other customers laugh.

“I know this sounds crazy. What if, you give her the clothes back. In exchange, she comes here and works at the bakery every day. What she is wearing right now, plus the apron will be her work uniform,” I said. “Can you imagine how much business the market will get if they find out she is working at the bakery section wearing nothing but an apron every day?”

All of the sudden, no one was laughing anymore. Least of all, Marie. She knew that I was right. Having this chickie working in nothing but an apron, every single guy in the entire state would be coming here on a regular basis. An ass shot was guaranteed but the allure of the possible nipple slip or the probability that an entire tit would pop out-- the fresh baked bread and other baked goods would fly off the shelves.

“Okay, fine. What is your name, girl?” Marie asked.

“Abigail Lawson,” she answered.

“She ain't even Italian!” Marie said before looking at me. “If this doesn't work out, I'm going to dock your pay for an entire year.”

“It will work out,” I said, trying to convince her-- and myself.

“I'm going to give you the skirt and blouse back. Give me your ID card. You are to be here at Seven AM sharp. You are to come in and immediately strip as naked as you are right now. I'll give you an apron and turn you over to Sonny here. He'll train you. If you don't show up, I'll give your ID card to my husband. Trust me, you don't want that. If you even think of stealing from me again, not only will I dock your pay but you'll be working without the apron,” Marie said.

“Thank you,” Abigail said.

“Don't thank me. The only reason you aren't walking down the street with your tits and pussy out for everyone to see is because of Sonny here. You should be thanking him on your hands and knees,” Marie said. “However, the cops look away on most things but having a naked woman on her knees, I doubt they could turn a blind eye to that. So, I think you should take Sonny out to dinner to thank him.”

My eyes met with Abigail's and we were both shocked by the situation we were now being thrust in. I should have known, really. I should have seen it a mile  away. Marie is just like every other Italian woman that I've ever met in my life. They they think can match make as well as they cook...

Anyways, Abigail, to my never ending surprise, agreed with Marie. Our date is in a few days and while I am nervous, I look forward to getting to know this buxom beauty who has captivated my heart with her beautiful body. Will there be more to this story to share? Could me-- I'll let you know after our date. If nothing else... I'll always have work to look forward to from here on out.

Submitted: August 03, 2019

© Copyright 2021 The Controverser. All rights reserved.

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Add Your Comments:



Nicely done. Enjoyed the slow unveiling and the excitement of a teenager watching it all happen. As much as I am a fan of someone clothes removed while them being immobile (physically or psychologically), having them take it off themselves is still always alluringly embarrassing for the "victim".

Fri, March 27th, 2020 9:36am


Wow. I need a cigarette.

And I don't even smoke. Hot story.

Sun, August 16th, 2020 4:13pm

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