Give her some sticky notes

You think about it for a second, then tell Sarah, "You know what, I think I just might have something. Give me a second."

"Hurry up," your naked friend says, tapping her foot impatiently under the table as she does her best to cover her otherwise exposed breasts and avoid drawing attention to herself. Judging from the constant glances people are throwing her way though, it seems like a futile attempt at best.

You take your backpack off of the back of your chair and open the front pouch. If you were correct, you had the perfect thing for Sarah to wear buried somewhere at the bottom of... ah, got it!

"Here we are!" you say happily to yourself, taking out a yellow pad of Post-it notes and setting it on the table in front of the redhead, "You can cover yourself with these."

Sarah frowns and uses one hand to pick up the notes while her other arm rests over her chest, "Really? This it all I get?"

"Well, not exactly," you say with a wicked smile, "I don't want you wasting all of them, so you only get three at a time. First two are for the nipples, and the third's for your pussy, which for your sake I hope is shaved. Otherwise, taking that one off might be a pain."

"It mostly is..." she admits to you, before saying, "Can I really not get something more substantial? These will barely help at all."

"Well, it's them or nothing, because I'm not allowing you to cover yourself with anything else," you tell her, "If you're good I might let you use more than three at a time, but keep complaining and I'll drop your note allowance down to two."

"Fine, fine," Sarah says with a sigh. She tries her best to pull a sticky note off with just the one hand, but her impatience gets the better of her and she uncovers her boobs so she can use her other hand to hold the pad on the table. She swiftly yanks two notes off it and sticks them on her chest to cover her nipples, then tears another one off and reaches under the table to get at her crotch.

"There, don't you feel better already?" you tease her, "Now both of your arms are free."

"Yeah, at least until I get up and cover my ass," she says.

"Uh uh uh," you say with a wag of your finger, "I told you already, you aren't allowed to cover yourself up with anything else. That includes your hands. If you want to cover that, you're going to have to earn more Post-its."

"Seriously?" Sarah says in exasperation, "That's such bullshit!"

"Are you really going to argue with me on this?" you ask her, raising your brow.

Sarah pouts, and after a moment petulantly mutters, "No... you're the clothing controller, after all. It's just humiliating that this is what I'm stuck wearing now."

"Until I decide otherwise, at least," you add.

"Don't rub it in," she says with a roll of her eyes, already seeming to settle down a little. You can't help but notice that despite everything you just made her do, she doesn't seem to be legitimately angry at you, just annoyed and embarrassed at the situation she's now stuck in.

Sarah looks up at the clock on the wall, and says, "Crap, we need to get going. Class is starting soon."

She downs the last of her drink, then grabs her clothes off the floor and stuff them into her bag before standing up and slinging it over her shoulder.

"Don't forget your sticky notes," you say, holding the pad out for her, "You're probably going to need some replacements throughout the day."

"Oh, you're right. Thanks," she says, leaning forward to take them. Her boobs hang down off her chest with only a minimal amount of sag, and you're glad to see that in this position the notes are just barely doing their job to cover her nipples. Once she stands up straight and sticks the notepad in her bag, you see that the note on her crotch does manage to cover her slit from the front pretty well. But you bet that she's still going to be flashing her pussy to anyone behind her when she bends over, a theory that to your amusement seems to be proven true judging by the wide eyes of the two guys sitting at the table behind her.

Sarah adjusts the strap on her bag one last time, then asks, "Well, are you coming or not? I'd like to avoid dawdling as much as possible in this 'attire', especially around here."