i have read this story somewhere else. i am also not the original author but i have added some changes in it but credit fully goes to original author C.MAXWELL.
HOPE YOU LIKE IT..........
Synopsis: Lisa is rising in the workforce but bored in the bedroom. When her therapist suggests that she start wearing shorter skirts, she reluctantly discovers the intense arousal brought to her by submissiveness.
Skirt Day - by C. Maxwell
Chapter one: how it began
Lisa wondered why it was that despite her successful career in
middle management and a plethora of dating options consequent to
her tall, blond good looks, she still felt empty and unhappy. In
fact she didn't much like dating - all too often she would find
the guy's shallow attempts to impress, to make her laugh, and to
get into her jeans to be frustratingly unsatisfying. She usually
delivered a forceful rejection to each guy, and even went on to
instruct him on how to improve his life.
Her career was taking off - she felt a promotion coming - and with
a recent raise and no children, a paid-off house and car, and
fully paid student loans, she had all the money she needed and
more; an indication of 26 years of hard work and little play, she
thought. Why not more happiness from such early stability and
success? This she asked her recently hired therapist, Joan.
After several weeks, Joan found it a major breakthrough when she
realized that Lisa's dating disappointments - and perhaps business
disappointments as well - came from her displeasure at docile
partners. Joan explained her theory to Lisa: you find forceful
men attractive, but you are so self-confident that you are too
forceful with them to allow them to assert themselves.
Joan thought of a potential therapy for Lisa. She began asking
Lisa questions about how she could tone down her aggressive
stature. One session, Joan had an idea:
"Lisa - I notice that at every session, you are always dressed
quite similarly. Baggy jeans, a dark-colored blouse or sweater.
You never dress in a particularly . . . feminine way," Joan asked,
looking for something.
"I prefer to dress this way. It's comfortable."
"And fairly gender neutral . . ."
"So, why don't you ever wear a dress? Maybe a low-cut top? High
"I don't think I would be taken seriously if I wore those things.
People would think I was, you know, just a girl."
"Do you even own any dresses?"
"I have one floor-length evening gown that I bought for a
Christmas party some years back, and another that I've had since
"Floor length? I'll bet it was more conservative than the other
dresses at the party."
"Of course. Many of the wives of the employees wore short little
cocktail dresses. You could just see the men looking at their
legs and breasts the whole time. I would never wear something
like that to an office party. What if my colleagues saw up my
skirt? They should be talking to /me/, not my breasts."
"Maybe so. But Lisa - I think this might be a route to explore
ways to enrich your life. I think you box yourself in too much.
You are always so concerned about earning respect and being the
leader. It even cuts into your wardrobe. But your wardrobe is
one of the easiest things we can augment. So, doctor's orders, I
want you to try this: after today's session, I want you to go
shopping. I want you to find something feminine - a dress or a
skirt - to wear to our next session."
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"That shouldn't be hard."
"Actually, it should be, so I'm going to make it a little harder
on you. I want it to be short. Well above the knee. I want you
to buy a skirt that seems just long enough to you, but absolutely
no longer, and wear it here with bare legs. The weather is plenty
warm for it."
"You're not wearing a skirt, Joan. Why should I?"
"I almost always wear a skirt on a date. Do you?"
"Well, there you go."
That afternoon, Lisa went shopping, figuring she must be paying
her therapist for something. She had not worn a skirt above the
knee since childhood - and then she never liked the threat of
being exposed and teased by the boys. But she was an adult now
and she could handle it.
She tried on about 5 skirts and ultimately ended up buying a dark
green, loose a-line skirt that fell to just above her knees. She
put it in her closet and forgot about it until her session a week
later. As she shaved her legs that morning, it occurred to her
that although she shaved her legs almost every morning, there was
never really any point until today.
The feeling of going outside with her legs no longer safely
wrapped by denim or cotton pants, or at least knee-length shorts,
was one she had not felt in a while. She could feel the slightly
cool air on her knees and thighs as she took the subway to her
session, and she knew that she looked more feminine, more exposed,
more weak than her usual self. But there was something else.
"What else?" asked Joan.
"I guess I do feel more attractive. That's the point of this,
"That's part of it. It is very nice looking, although you still
look quite conservative. What I want for you, Lisa, is to feel
/vulnerable/. I think that's what you're missing."
"Feeling vulnerable doesn't sound like a good thing."
"I think for you, it will be. Do you have a date next week?"
"An important business meeting?"
"Just one departmental meeting. Why?"
"This is what I want you to do: tomorrow, take your new skirt to a
tailor. Ask him to shorten it by 4 inches. Don't try it on for
him, just ask him to do it. Ask him to call you when it's done.
Then, the day he calls you, whatever day it is, you pick it up.
And then the next day will be important. On that day you will
wear the skirt, again with bare legs. You will wear it even
though it will feel too short for you. You will do this because I
told you. And whenever you wear that skirt, I want you to try to
be passive. I want you to do whatever anyone tells you, whether
it be a coworker, a friend, or even a stranger. So that as you
wear that skirt, you are labeling yourself as a humble servant, at
the mercy of the world. Of course, it's really our secret that
you will do what anyone asks, but that won't change the /feeling/
of it. Do you think you can do that?"
Lisa was shocked. She did not know if she could do it. But it
sounded like a challenge. She thought about it, and Joan added
"I dare you to do it, Lisa."
So it was a challenge! Lisa believed nothing was too difficult
for her, so this shouldn't be, either.
"Remember, when you wear that skirt, you will do whatever anyone
asks, starting with putting on the skirt in the morning and
wearing it all day."
The tailor gave Lisa a slightly funny look when she asked to have
her perfectly nice skirt shortened, but would only tell, not show,
how short. Lisa felt a little embarrassed, but she did not let it
bother her since it wasn't her idea.
For the beginning of the week, Lisa felt a great anticipation for
her "skirt day." She resolved that she would indeed do what
anyone told her (not that anyone would, since no one would know
that they could) and the thought somehow excited her. She
rationalized that it was the danger of it. It's highly unlikely
that a stranger on the street could stop her and ask her to strip
naked and have sex with him, but if he did, she would /have/ to.
The more Lisa thought about it, the more simultaneous dread and
excitement filled her. On Tuesday she picked up the skirt, which
looked noticeably smaller in her hands although she did not try it
on. On Tuesday night she had a little trouble sleeping, wondering
what would happen the next day.
Wednesday morning. Lisa wakes up, showers, shaves her legs,
brushes her teeth, takes her birth control pill, and returns to
the bedroom. Wrapped in plastic is her fate for the day, hanging
next to the white blouse she planned to wear with it. She picks
out her favorite set of underwear - somewhat high cut white
panties and a bra with just a little push to it. She buttons up
the blouse (all but the collar button), and then removes the skirt
from the plastic. She slides it up her legs, and when the hem
reaches her knees she realizes that the waistband is still half a
foot from her waist. She slides it higher and when finally she
fastens the button at the waist she feels that her legs are almost
entirely exposed. She wonders after all if she can go through
She looks in the mirror. The skirt only covers half of her
thighs. She feels exposed, vulnerable, and anxious. She turns
around and bends over. It's hard to tell in the mirror, but she's
confident her panties are still covered, even though the backs of
her thighs are in plain view. She tries sitting down, exposing
more thigh as the skirt rides up. "This is how it will be all
day," she says. She knows she has to go through with it now.
Then she feels it: with the vulnerability comes excitement. What
will happen to her? What adventures will befall her now that so
much of her is exposed? It seems very different, slightly scary,
and above all, /alive/. As she puts on a pair of flat sandals she
purchased yesterday, grabs her purse, and walks out the door,
locking her house and her pants behind her, she pulls down her
skirt as far as it goes, swallows her fear, and realizes why she
has been paying Joan all this time. For the first time in years,
she is looking forward to her day.
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Chapter two: skirt day
The skirt is really too short for comfort. The loose cotton sways
around the middle of her thighs, reminding her that her white
panties are not far from view. As she walks down the steps to the
subway, a sharp underground breeze flies up her thighs to her warm
crotch. She quickly grasps the hem. Did her skirt fly up? Did
anyone see? Does anyone know how vulnerable I am?
As she waits for the train, she feels the eyes of the other
waiting passengers. A large black man on the bench blatantly
stares at her. (Will he order her to unbutton her blouse?) A
blue-suited businessman offers repeated glances from behind his
newspaper. (Will he demand her panties?) An Asian woman, herself
in a mid-thigh length dress, seems to be absentmindedly gazing at
Lisa's knees. (Would she make Lisa kneel and lick her feet?)
Lisa realizes that her thoughts are crazy. Her skirt says nothing
about her self-promise to obey. The pleasant weather had several
women dressed in short skirts and dresses (although very few as
short as hers). The thought brings her down to reality, leaving
her a little disappointed. Then she remembers: those other women
don't have to obey. But I must. The thought excites her; she
cannot understand why, and she realizes she is becoming aroused.
When the train rolls into the station she holds her skirt down,
wondering what might have happened if she hadn't. She boards the
train and sits in a side-facing seat across from a young male
passenger. She places her purse on her lap and begins reading the
ads above. Of course, she has seen those ads a thousand times.
She just reads them to avoid eye contact. But today she is facing
her fears, she thinks. She looks at the passenger across from
her. He is clearly looking at her thighs, hidden more by her
small purse than by her tiny skirt. He realizes that she sees
him, and looks up to meet her eyes.
She is suddenly gripped by terror. Maybe it will start here, she
thinks. This confident young male will ask her to take her purse
off her legs, and to spread them apart so that he can see her
panties. Then he will make her follow him . . . what about her
modesty, her job, her responsibilities? How can she so easily
have sex with a stranger from the train?
But he says nothing; rather he gives an embarrassed smile and
Lisa knows that strangers are not going to tell her to do
anything. She can merely walk among them, on her way to work like
everyone else, and they will look at her exposed legs, but they
don't know what those exposed legs mean. They don't know that it
means she's . . . available.
As she rides the elevator up to her office, it occurs to her that
it will be different with her coworkers. Her boss, her employees.
They know her - they will interact with her. What will they say?
She tries to tell if they are looking at her legs as she walks to
her desk, but if they are they are trying their best to be subtle.
Lisa does not have her own office (yet) - she just has a slightly
fancier cubicle than those she manages. As she enters her
cubicle, she looks down at her legs. So much of them are naked!
She sits at her seat and feels its rough fabric against her bare
thighs. "This skirt is not appropriate for the workplace," she
thinks. She is flushed with embarrassment. What was she
She turns on the computer and rubs her left thigh as her computer
boots. It feels good to rub her bare flesh here at work she
thinks . . . but is anyone looking? She wishes her cubicle
offered more privacy.
The computer comes to life, and her email program starts and
instantly sends a message. Lisa remembers, too late she thinks,
that she had programmed it to automatically send out a reminder on
Wednesday mornings for the departmental meeting after lunch. She
has to chair that meeting! That means standing in front of her
entire department in this tiny miniskirt. She wonders if she
should cancel, but the email goes to the entire department,
including herself. "Don't miss today's meeting," it says. She
remembers: I will obey, even orders I sent myself!
When she reflected upon her day later in the evening, she
remembered that every time she left her desk that morning felt
like an adventure. Her walk to her mailbox. Her walk to the copy
machine - her hope that no one else would enter the copy room as
she made her copies. Her walk to the desk of their new
administrative assistant, Steve. He was definitely checking out
her legs as she gave him a routine set of orders. He doesn't know
that he could be giving me the orders today, she had thought. The
idea of what he might ask if he knew he could ask it distracted
her for a full 15 minutes after the encounter.
When it came to be noon, she realized that she was heavily
aroused. She stopped in the ladies room on the way to the
cafeteria, and entered a stall. When she pulled down her panties,
she noted their dampness. The thought of masturbating, right here
in the public bathroom of her own workplace, crossed her mind.
But she knows it would make noise. Someone would know. They
would know it was her. She couldn't. She had to survive her
At lunch, she recalled, she was somewhat grateful to have a napkin
covering her bare lap. She thought, although she wasn't sure,
that when Art from engineering dropped his fork from across the
table, and got down on his hands and knees to find it, he may have
been trying to look up her skirt. She believes that the napkin
maintained her modesty. "If Art had only asked me to remove it .
. . "
After lunch, it is time for the departmental meeting. Lisa sits
at her desk and rubs her bare knees. She has never been to work
in a skirt, and this skirt is /too short/. She will have to stand
up in front of everyone and give a progress overview. Will they
listen? Will they look at her thighs?
As she ponders, she realizes she is running late. She grabs her
notes and rushes to the conference room, her short skirt swaying
as she walks with long strides. She can hear the chatter in the
conference room, and as she opens the door there is an immediate
hush. All eyes are upon her.
"Uh," she says, "thank you all for coming." (I never thank them
for coming - it's their job!) She starts to go through her notes
and wonders - do they see how nervous I am? Do they see how much
I wish I could sit down? And then to her horror she wonders - can
they smell how aroused I am?!?
But she would never know. The meeting proceeds as it has every
week, and it ends no differently.
As the afternoon wears away to six o'clock, and most have gone
home, Lisa has calmed down. She thinks about how on edge she has
been all day, and reminds herself why she went through it. Most
days she felt so empty. But not today. It worked, she thinks.
It worked for one day, and all the time and money with Joan has
At the same time, she realizes that the edge is fading. She has
promised herself that when she wears the skirt, (or any skirt, she
decides), she will secretly promise to obey. And maybe there will
be slight excitement. But in truth, she feels safe. No one has
given her opportunity to obey - and nobody will. There is no real
danger, she thinks. Why should this disappoint her?
As she shuts down her computer and swings her chair out from under
her desk, Steve stops by.
"Hi!" he says.
Lisa is now sitting in her chair, uncrossed legs almost fully
exposed, and Steve is standing above her, leaning on the side of
the cubicle entrance, looking down at her.
"Hi Steve," she responds, "Working late?"
"Yeah, I guess," he says. "I . . ." he hesitates.
"I think you look awfully nice today, Lisa," he says.
"Thank you Steve."
He warms to her nice response. Clearly he was nervous. Lisa
wonders if this is going to get awkward. She has no intention of
dating one of her employees, but he's clearly here to flirt.
"I like that skirt."
"Thanks, Steve, but I think it's a little shorter than I thought
when I bought it . . . " Don't want him to think I did this on
purpose, she thinks.
"Nonsense. It's perfect. I think you should wear it more often."
"It really made my Wednesday. You should wear it every
Lisa knows he is trying to be funny, or flirtatious. Her initial
reaction is to be offended, or maybe creeped out. But this is it,
she thinks. This is where my mettle is tested. That was an
order. And she has promised herself: she will obey.
"Okay, Steve, we'll see. I need to be getting home now."
She stands and pulls down the hem. Steve is watching every move.
He lets her out, watching her. It occurs to her that he was
trying his best to be confident. She likes to encourage
confidence in her workers. But more than that . . . she feels her
safety taken away. She must obey. She /will/ wear the skirt next
week. She will obey whenever she wears it. And if Steve gets
what he wants this time, will he want more?
The vulnerability and excitement that kept her aroused all day
reach a peak. She rushes to the subway and from the subway rushes
to her apartment. She throws herself on the bed, pulls up the
skirt, and shoves her hands on her panties. Here, in the privacy
of her bed, she can moan all she likes as she pleasures herself to
the best orgasm she has ever had, followed by another, more
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