An Examination of Attire First

It wasn't long before they were ready for church. Christie reluctantly stood with Amber as they waited for her mother to herd them into the car and drive them to the church building. The air between them was heavy, and neither of them said a word to each other.

"Santa mierda te ves caliente!"

As Christie's mother rounded the corner, her eyes immediately locked onto Amber's body. Amber steeled herself, expecting an intense tirade from the fiery Latina woman. Stern, strict, and unforgiving, it would be absolutely unacceptable to wear a scandalous outfit like the one she had on to church. That is, it would be if she hadn't already prayed to her master.

The woman's eyes flicked up and down, taking in her top and shorts before giving a short nod of approval. She whispered out in a quiet voice "You look quite nice today, Amber."

Her eyes turned to her daughter, and immediately grew cold. "Christie, is that really how you're going to dress? Showing so much skin? Do you want the men to think you are a whore? Do you want God to abandon you? Why don't you look more like Amber? She looks beautiful today! Instead you dress like some kind of... slut!" She gestured disgustedly at Christie's exposed neck. Christie was already dressed fairly conservatively -- a long sleeved button-up blouse that rose to her collar bones and jeans. However, it didn't seem to be enough.

"Estas completamente desesperada..." She began to drag her daughter back to her room, lifting her shirt and poking at her stomach. As they disappeared down the hall, Amber could barely make out her words. "It looks like you are getting fat! Why do you eat so much? I'm doing my best to keep you beautiful but you just eat and eat! How are you going to find a man if you get fat? Dios mío Christie, if you're not careful you're going to wind up all alone..." The stream of **** didn't end until they were already out of earshot.

Amber stood still, clutching her bag to her chest and breathing heavily. Were this any other day she would have leapt to her best friend's defense. She knew Mrs. Garcia would have stopped if she said something, maybe out of embarrassment, but... Amber didn't want to help Christie. She felt... excited. Every cruel word Christie's mother said, every criticism... Amber was above that. Amber looked nice. Christie was the one getting torn down. For the first time in her life, Amber was the one Christie was being measured against, not the other way around -- and Christie had been found wanting.

As she thought about everything Mrs. Garcia had said, she grew more excited. Was it the comparison? Was it Christie getting punishment, if even for something else? Or was it... was it the cruelty? Did Amber enjoy seeing cruel things done to Christie? She didn't know. She imagined the tirade continuing as Christie's mother dragged her by the ear to the bedroom. As she ordered -- no, as she personally stripped Christie's clothes from her body. Christie crying as her mother criticized her body, insulting every exposed part of her.

"Oh fuck..." Amber moaned, slipping her hand into her shorts. The thong barely even covering her moistened pussy before she pulled it to the side. Why was this so exciting? She would have been appalled at this situation in the past, but imagining it... ugh, it felt so good...

She grinned as she imagined Mrs. Garcia roughly handling Christie, pulling her over her knee on the bed and spanking her ass over and over. Though her imaginings Amber heard the muffled sound of raised voices. She gasped, redoubling her efforts and moaning through a hand covering her mouth. Why was she enjoying their fighting so much?

She thought of Christie's mother punishing her daughter's body, pinching and slapping her breasts. Spanking her pussy, causing Christie to scream and moan and cry.

As Amber neared her climax, the sharp sound of a slap, clear even through the doors and hallways, cut through her fantasy. Shocked and surprised, Amber moaned loudly as she came on her hand, body shaking and legs quivering. She slid to the floor, her legs to weak to hold her after a powerful orgasm.

"Voy a tratar contigo más tarde!"

As she sat dazed on the floor, Christie rushed through the room to the garage, only slowing to glance at Amber with red, puffy eyes. She was wearing a floor-length denim skirt with a baggy and formless turtleneck sweater. Amber's eyes widened as she looked up at Christie. An angry red imprint stood out against Christie's skin -- the mark of her mother's hand clearly visible on her cheek. Christie turned away and sniffled, pushing her way into the garage and slamming the door behind her.

Amber sat there for a moment collecting her thoughts. She had always looked up to Christie. Strong, beautiful, desired... she was everything Amber had wanted to be. But here, in this moment... she was pathetic. She looked terrible, she was miserable, and Amber had just watcher her mother cut her down in ways she had never seen. Here, in this moment, Amber was the powerful one. The strong one, the beautiful one, the desired one... she had everything and Christie had nothing. It felt... good.

Mrs. Garcia strode into the room, eyes flashing and a picture of wrath. Even so, she stopped dead As soon as she saw Amber on the floor.

"Oh no, mi hermosa chica! What are you doing on the floor, get up, get up! You'll spoil your beautiful outfit!"

A still-stunned Amber followed an outstretched hand lazily up into Mrs. Garcia's eyes. Those eyes had softened nearly instantly: where once there had been anger and disgust, now they seemed only to hold affection and warmth. Amber had to give it to her, whatever emotion this woman felt, she felt 100%.

Amber gingerly took her hand and stood, standing face to face with Christie's mother. Amber had heard horror stories of Christie's mother growing up. All Christie ever seemed to do was complain about her. As such, she'd never actually had many interactions with Mrs. Garcia, since they both did their best to avoid her -- Christie out of dislike, Amber out of fear.

"Ah, you beautiful thing, I'm so sorry you had to hear that..." Mrs. Garcia whispered to Amber, her hands on Amber's shoulders. "Christie is... not like you. She needs discipline, a firm hand." Amber felt one of the hands on her shoulder move slowly up her neck to cradle her head. "I'm sure she acts out because she is so jealous of you. After all, you are... most beautiful." Amber noticed Mrs. Garcia's eyes flick down her body, clouding with another thought for the briefest of moments. By the time they reached her face again, there was nothing but warmth again. Amber felt Mrs. Garcia's other hand cup her cheek, passing her thumb slowly over Amber's cheek. It felt nice.

"She is so rebellious, so wayward... but not like you." Mrs. Garcia slowly combed her hand through Amber's fine hair, looking deep into her eyes. "You are such a good girl... such a good Catholic girl. I hope you will be a good influence on my daughter." Amber had to suppress a laugh at those words. This woman had no idea, no idea what a bad girl she was. But she was enjoying the praise so much... she didn't want it to end.

"Yes Mrs. Garcia, I try to get Christie to behave well. She should really listen to you more... you seem like such a wise woman." Amber grinned as she saw the reaction in Mrs. Garcia's eyes. A flash of agreement, a moment of pride, and a lingering expression she couldn't quite place. One of the hands moved all the way down to her hip, the other still combing through her hair.

When Mrs. Garcia spoke, the words were quiet, a whisper Amber barely heard. "Dios mío, you are an attractive girl..." Amber stared into Mrs. Garcia's eyes, feeling almost paralyzed by the intensity. What should she do? As she thought, she felt the weight move from her hip as Mrs. Garcia's hand slipped a bit lower and further back. Her hand was inches from cupping Amber's ass. Should she do something? Did she... want to do something? Amber gulped.