The front

It is not an easy choice. For one, you have already spent the several minutes between being told you will ride nude and climbing onto the cart imagining being huddled naked in the back, so the thought is at least familiar, if still not a comforting one. On the other hand, of course, clothing could not be disregarded. Even though it is a single piece, the blazer would actually cover most of the bits of you that you only want a controlled level of exposure for. You would have to hold it together, but it would still be a piece of clothing on you, miles away from anything else you would be able to get your hands on.

"I'll take the front", you say before you can change your mind and take the blazer offered. It actually ends up doing even more than you expected in the terms of protecting your modesty and once you are seated in the car, you are quite confident it would take a very close look (closer than any driver or most pedestrians would be able to take) to tell quite how underdressed you are. Your blouse-clad boss takes the driver's seat and the car rolls off, taking you away from your clothes and into the unknown.

You begin the ride chatting about work, but (inevitable, you suppose) the conversation turns again to the specifics on the new policy and its impact on the two of you. Ms Stevens recounts her morning spanking (which indeed sounds intense) and another one she received later in the day. You in turn tell her about yours, not neglecting to mention that you feel some of them were rather unfair. "Do you want me to chat with him about his methods?", Ms Stevens asks. "I might be able to track down the other two as well". Only then you realise it sounded like you are complaining. "No, no", you say quickly, beginning to explain you did not mean it that way, but she waves your explanation away. "I know you were not trying to get me to interfere, I was just teasing", she says taking a turn. "That said... I wonder how he'd spank me if I tried".

You do not reply for a fraction a bit too long, feeling the temperature between your bare legs raise a couple of degrees at the image of Ms Stevens being dragged (maybe even protesting) over Mr Hayley's lap. And you suppose your own turn would not be too far behind given the reason for the interaction once Ms Stevens' bottom is appropriately deep red... "Do you want to open the glovebox?", Ms Stevens asks rather suddenly, making you realise quite how far into your fantasy land you were. "Uh, sure", you say embarrassed and do so... And just about manage to catch a plastic-bag-wrapped dildo as it falls out.

"Thought you might need it", your boss says conversationally.