A high school petite redhead

A girl has just exited a cafe not unlike one in which you turned your life upside down minutes ago. She is wearing a school uniform but her looks suggest there is a very good chance she is at least eighteen. So does the fact she is here during school hours, you would imagine the supervision for underage girls should be a bit more encompassing. Before you can change your mind about asking whether or not she is eligible to be involved, you make yourself hurry to her. This is when two and two finally come together in your head. In the excitement of the meeting you did not until now properly comprehend what Martha's task entails. You are not just giving your clothes away, you are about to strip naked with no way to cover yourself in the middle of the city. Even saying that in your head sounds bizarre. Can you even be sure you did not imagine the whole Rulebook thing? Are you about to to approach a teenage and get called out for harassment?

The rational part of you is quite insistent that this is exactly what will happen... but you know you are not losing your mind. At least you think you do. And so you make yourself walk over to the girl who seems quite alone. “Um, I’m sorry...” you start, hoping you are loud enough to be heard. You voice does have a tendency to disappear under stressful circumstances. The girl looks up at you with a rather leave-me-alone expression. “I’m terribly sorry, but are you of age? This is a KinkMatch thing...” you blurt out.

The cloud on the girl’s face clears somewhat. “Oh that’s cool, yeah, I’m eighteen.”. She even flashes a school ID card at you. “What, did you get picked?” Your mission is far from being accomplished but a sense of relief washes over you nonetheless. You quickly explain in a slightly shaking voice that you indeed were picked as a submissive and what your first order was. “Let me get this straight: you want me to take your clothes? All of it? You’ll be naked?” she asks. Your reply is barely audible but the shade of red on your face is quite sufficient anyway. “Well, I could do that...” she muses. “I have job interviews coming up and nothing to wear for them... still... you need this more than I do so I think you’ll need to make me a better offer”.

This is better than an outright refusal but your feeling of relief is rather dampened anyway. With time running out, she is quite right. You do need this more than she does. “Please, just make this quick, I’ll do what you want!” you say.