"I want to see everything."

"I want to see everything," you say hopefully.

"I'm sure you do," Mrs. Cleft laughs.

She leans over you, her huge breasts straining at her bra, threatening to spill out and smother you like an avalanche of luscious tit flesh. She seems to be reaching for something on the shelf that holds all of the detergents and fabric softeners.

"The thing about punishment," Mrs. Cleft says as she leans back into view, "You don't get what you want."

You see she is holding a large pair of scissors. She snaps it open and closed menacingly.

"W-what are you doing?" You ask, getting to your feet.

Mrs. Cleft answers you by forcing you against the dryer again. She wraps her left hand around your throat, not hard enough to **** you, but firm enough to hold you uncomfortably in place. With her other hand she begins to deflty wield the scissors on your clothing.

"No!" You cry.

You feel the cold metal of the scissors slide under the bottom of your tanktop and then Mrs. Cleft is snipping away. With a final rip of fabric she pulls the remnants of your tanktop away and throws them to the floor.

She leans back to examine your breasts.

"Mmmm," she runs the tip of the scissors down your shoulder to the soft flesh of your breast.

"Very nice, Joy," she remarks, tracing the lace fringe of your pink bra with the scissors. "You've grown up and filled out quite nicely."

She slides the scissors under your bra straps and snips through them one after the other. A third cut between the cups and your bra falls away, exposing your large breasts to the cool air of the basement. The pink buds of your nipples harden almost instantly under the scrutinizing eye of Mrs. Cleft.

"Smaller than mine, of course," she says, prodding one of your breasts with the scissors.

She releases your throat from her grasp to slice apart your pyjama pants. Two slits up each leg and final cuts through the drawstring and they fall apart. You try to cover your breasts as she's doing this, but she slaps your hands and tells you to hold them at your sides. You begin to shiver, as much from the intense humiliation of being gradually exposed as from the cold air of the basement.

Finally, you are down to your ruby-red thong.

"I see you wax clean down there," Mrs. Cleft says and runs her hand across the crotch of your thong. "I can't wait to see what's hiding underneath."

One snip is all it takes and she pulls your thong away, being sure to practically floss your damp pussy with it. You moan despite yourself and Mrs. Cleft chuckles.

"Now," she says as she steps back to admire her work, "do a turn for me, my little slut. Let me see what you have."

You turn around, but rather than completing a full revolution you feel Mrs. Cleft press against your back. Her arms slide under yours and wrap around your breasts. Her big milk-filled tits press into your back and her lips press against your ear.

"It's time for me to confess," she whispers, her breath sending goosebumps up your arms, "I've been watching you for a very long time, Joy. Now that you're mine, I'm going to do everything to you I have always fantasized about. And you're going to love it."