That thong, thong, thong, thong

You walk away as Andra gets up. You pick up the rule book. "I'll just take some notes about this," you say in case someone finds you going to the rule book strange. In fact, you'd best safeguard it.

New Rule: All citizens of my country except for me will find the rule book uninteresting unless I explicitly call attention to it.

You consider making it an Old Rule, but you want to minimize time changes until you possess a firm grasp of the rule book's modus operandi. The hard part is how to do the next rule. If being Female Uniform Inspector a game, then you're hesitant to go from 'Normal' to 'Easy' Setting. Still, when you jump straight to a Boss Battle, you can't expect an effortless win.

New Rule: All members of my school experience any direction where I say or follow it with "Right now" as twice as more embarrassing and three times harder to resist.

You nod at your changes; your attention returns to Andra. She has picked up her top and skirt and has the temerity to be walking away.

"Nuh-uh-uh-uh. The inspection isn't done yet, Snookums. Come back," you direct.

Andra flips you a double bird over her shoulders. "Your words, head, heart, and briefs are all empty. You can't make me do anything, shit stain," she retorted.

"Lie down in front of me, right now!" you call. She stops, turns around, and walks back. Most of the students are perplexed by the seesawing of power in front of their eyes. In Andra's eyes is confusion and concern, while her cheeks have returned to the now familiar shade of rose.

She lies on her back. You lean down over her and look daggers into her large blue eyes. "Put your thumbs in your thong," you order.

Andra lips dry lips open, but then close silently. She moves her hands across her firm thighs and hooks her thumbs into her thong.

"Slowly pull them off," you say. This time her mouth does make a sound. "You can't--"she starts.

"Shut up, right now!" you shout in her face, a tiny bit of spittle hitting her cheek inadvertently. She complies as an overwhelmed expression forms on her lovely and typically poised visage.

Trembling hands take away her womanhood's already meager source of cover. Your bit you lower lip as you and a growing number of classmates look at hers. As you half-expect, she has had a Full Brazilian Bikini Wax. A delicious start to the main course.

As Andra gets to her thong to her knees, she brings them up and in. "Wait, right now. And spread you legs more," you tell her in a cool voice. The blonde bombshell now looks mortified, but obeys. You give a few gestures to the eager male (and a couple female) classmates with there cell phones out and aimed that they can look, but not touch. As they take pictures and video, you knell down and stroke Andra's long blond hair as if she were a dog. "Good girl, Sexy Pants," you compliment in a low voice.

After a bit, you rise up. "Finish removing them," you order and then stretch a little. Keeping the same position can make one sore, after all.

She gradually gets kicks the thong off her cute feet and then starts moving at regular speed again. A few students frown, as it means they've lost there great beaver shoot POV. Your work is just never done.

"Get on your knees and elbows," you tell Andra. She lets out a breath, welcoming the opportunity to obscure her sex. After she does, you nod to the aspiring journalists, who record her full, lush posterior for posterity. You stroll in front of Andra. She looks up at you, her bright blue eyes weary.

"Hold your thong in front of you," you say. She rolls her eyes as she does. You guess she's imaging your going to sniff them, or tear them, or maybe keep them as a trophy.