She was about to go to the home of a relative stranger and be spanked into incoherence. Why should she need - or want - to look pretty? But that voice...was overridden. Almost of its own volition, her hand reached over to the vanity and picked up a bottle of perfume. The hand brought the bottle to her neck and she felt the cool mist land there and drift down to her chest. Her nose was filled with the scent of flowers. It went so well with her blouse. She smiled. The familiar voice told her it was. A bit hesitantly Maryon went over to the box on the floor, marked 'Daisy Mae', and rested it on the stool. Inside were the few items of costume and she quickly picked out the large polka- dotted, short-sleeved, off-the-shoulder red blouse and the short- short, ragged-edged rusty-black skirt that went with it. Wes made no move to turn away; on the other hand he wasn't making a big thing out of watching her so, turning her back, she dropped her own micro-mini skirt and quickly stepped into the. More

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