From the Top Shelf - Mademoiselle Isobel

Today Jamie has taken his cousins to meet Mademoiselle Isobel, who owns an establishment where dresses, corsets, drawers, and other essential ladies' garments are made and sold. While in the midst of a corset fitting in front of several approving customers, Amelia happens to glance in the direction of her audience.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Amelia watched the Reverend Dawes turn towards the lingerie department and his eyes locked on hers.

"Nooooo!"

"I say, Jamie! Good day to you, sir. A corset fitting, is it? Very good. That's the impertinent child, Amelia, is it not?"

"That's right, Reverend! We will fit her with bloomers next."

The laughter of the male voices was joined by Mademoiselle Isobel's high peal. Chewing wormwood would not have been more bitter to Amelia.

"Reverend Dawes, the drawers you ordered are ready," the corsetier said as Amelia took the tape in trembling fingers and held it to the buckle of the belt. "Monique, run and model a pair for the Reverend."

"Me, madame? But -"

"No buts, Monique. Yvette and Eloise are busy. Run along, girl, as quick as you can."

Amelia heard the woman sigh as she felt the tape tugged tight.

"I spoil my girls, messieurs, and you see the result? I expect you wish to test the garment thoroughly, Reverend? It might help to dissuade Monique from giving herself such airs!"

* * *

The party had traipsed back to the lingerie section of the shop, where Mademoiselle Isobel took coffee with the gentlemen. Monique seemed to have been gone an age and Amelia wondered what could have taken her so long. The shop-girl's reluctance to model the Reverend's order had been obvious, and Amelia wondered if the girl might have stolen out of the emporium and run away.

Such speculation was curtailed by the arrival of the young lady in question. Monique still wore her dark brown hair in an elegant coif but, instead of a fashionable, full-length dress, she now wore only a lace-trimmed sleeveless white, cotton shift, the hem of which just covered her knees. The girl's anxiety was palpable, her reluctance to approach the company plain. Yet there was something odd about her gait apart from this.

"Ah, there you are, Monique. Yvette! Trot along and fetch a number 3 cane for the Reverend - oh yes, and a bucket of water and a sponge. Run along, tout de suite! Now, Monique, but you are not modelling chemises today, ma petite. Come along now! Off with it. I am sure the Reverend is eager to see what we have done with his designs."

If the girl had seemed unwilling to approach, she pulled the shift off, over her head, with even more obvious reluctance. Her expression was solemn, even dignified, and only the barest hint of a blush showed around her cheekbones, but Amelia saw her fingers tremble as she folded the garment to place it neatly on the wooden platform.

Despite herself, Amelia stared in astonishment. Monique wore a white coutil corset equipped with lace-trimmed cups to support her full breasts. However, it was the shop assistant's lower body that compelled Amelia's attention. The cotton drawers appeared to grip the girl in an even fiercer constraint.

"Ah, yes, I thought I had better order some flogging drawers for the attendees on my course. For the sake of propriety, you know. After all, it is not considered decent for single gentlemen to beat nubile young females on their bare bottoms!" The Reverend chuckled to himself, although Amelia could not see what was so amusing, nor what relationship her own treatment had to the propriety of which he claimed to be concerned. Still, she reasoned that she was in enough difficulty already, so she kept her observations to herself.

"You see, they are fashioned in two pieces, a front half and a rear, with leather strips serving to reinforce the seams at either side."

Amelia could see. The drawers had legs about half the length of the girl's thigh, leaving just an inch or two of bare flesh between the end of the drawers and the tops of Monique's black stockings. From the bottom of the leg to the waistband, thick leather strips ran, equipped with metal eyelets, much like one might find on the lacing of a corset. Laces connected the front and back panels on both of Monique's flanks, and it was clear that these had been used to adjust the drawers until they were astonishingly tight.

"Face front, girl!" the Reverend ordered gruffly, taking the three foot length of yellow cane from Yvette, who arrived hurriedly back.

The force of the lacing had pulled the thin cotton of the front panel so tightly over Monique's quim that a fold of the material had disappeared between her legs, and the girl's dark pubic curls could plainly be seen, flattened by the thin fabric. Amelia blinked twice at the sight, not surprised to note that Monique's pretty brown eyes were watering and her bottom lip was quivering as she stood stiffly to attention. The Reverend leaned forward and prodded the girl's quim gently with the tip of his rod, provoking a terrified little squeak.

"You see, Jamie, with these, the girl's state of mind may be monitored, yet no nakedness is entailed, so even the most prurient-minded could scarcely claim any impropriety." He continued prodding for a few moments and Monique moaned again.

"Hold your tongue, girl!" Mademoiselle Isobel said sharply. "I expect the Reverend will give you something to groan about, presently!"

"All right, turn and bend over. Place your hands on the platform there," the Reverend Dawes ordered in a slightly strangled tone. Monique obeyed, and Amelia caught her breath at the sight the girl displayed. She had a full bottom, and she might as well have been naked for the extent to which the flogging drawers disguised the charm of her behind. She bent, corset creaking in protest, shapely legs straight, and as she bent the drawers appeared to tighten even more, though that seemed scarcely possible.

"What is that material, cotton?" Jamie put in, his voice slightly hoarse as well.

"The finest cambric. Usually we use it for ladies pocket handkerchiefs, " Mademoiselle Isobel said.

"That's why we need the leather strips," the Reverend Dawes explained enthusiastically. "The front and back panels are so fine, and the stress on them so great, I expect quite a few to rip through wear and tear and..."

He unleashed a yellow blur and the white-sheathed bottom quivered with the impact. The thwacking sound as the cane bit home made Amelia's own belly tense in sympathy. Monique's legs bowed slightly for a second and then straightened up again, but an "Ohhhhhh!" bore witness to the ferocity of the stroke.

"The idea is," the Reverend continued, conversationally, as he lined up the next lash," that the lacing strips can be re-used. When the panels split or rip, they can be replaced. A tedious job, perhaps..."

He struck again. Amelia saw no more than a yellow flicker, the cane cut through the air so fast, but she heard the crack across Monique's bottom and saw the buttocks quiver with the impact. This time the shop-girl could not stop a squeal and she stamped three times with her high-heeled shoes before managing to straighten up into the prescribed position once again.

"....But not a skilled one. Mademoiselle can provide the panels, fashioned to the contours of the miscreants, and the girls who split their drawers will be employed sewing in new ones."

He struck again. This time the cane whipped across the girl's thighs and a strange whinnying sound was forced out of her mouth. Monique stamped her feet and wiggled her bottom desperately, and she had to be spoken to sharply by Mademoiselle before she would straighten her legs and assume the proper position again.

"A most ingenious arrangement," Jamie murmured with admiration. "Still, this pair has not split yet."

The Reverend turned and smiled, flexing the cane between big powerful hands. "Quite right," he said. "They seem to be standing up well, so far. Silk would be stronger, but I was hoping to keep to cotton, both for reasons of economy and because I do not want my girls giving themselves airs."

At this he looked straight at Amelia and she hurriedly lowered her eyes. The effect of this was that her gaze fell on her jutting breasts and the nipples that were sticking out, visible against the thin silk, as they seemed to do distressingly frequently. You can keep your silk, she thought mutinously. But she hardly breathed until the Reverend's attention turned back to the trembling Monique.

"However," the Reverend Dawes said with a dramatic flourish, "there is another test yet. You, girl, give me the sponge."

The material constraining Monique's bottom and thighs was so thin, and so taut, that Amelia could already clearly see the welts that the Reverend's cane had raised on the girl's hindquarters, lines of pink glowing through the snow white material. Monique gasped as the man applied the soaking sponge, thoroughly wetting the whole target area. Then she started whimpering strangely.

"Is it shrinking?" Jamie asked in awe.

"A little bit. I don't think these can get much tighter really," Mademoiselle chuckled.

What was not in question was that wetting the cotton made it more transparent. The welts showed through lividly now, and Amelia licked her lips. The now wet gusset revealed every detail of Monique's quim.

The Reverend stepped back and placed the cane across the moist material sheathing the fullest part of Monique's bottom. The shop-girl gave a little wail of fear and Amelia watched the plump cheeks clench in anticipation.

"Relax them, girl. I'll have no clenching - relax them."

Somehow, Monique managed to comply and, without more ado, the Reverend lashed the proffered bottom once again. There was a subtly different sound as the cane impacted on bottom-cheeks constrained in wet cotton, and another shriek from Monique's lips. This time she stood up and clutched her bottom, deaf to Mademoiselle Isobel's shocked admonishments. The girl shook her pretty head, and hopped from foot to foot for a full minute before turning a tearful and shamefaced look toward the man wielding the cane.

"Felt that one, young miss?"

"Ooh, yes sir. It was terribly tight your reverence, sir. Oooooh...ouch!"

"Tighter than the others?"

"Y-yes Sir, quite a bit...ah...stingier on the wet."

"Excellent. Bend down again, girl!"

"Oh, again, sir?" Blinking away tears, Monique looked first at the Reverend and then at Mademoiselle, before turning back with obvious reluctance to the platform and taking up her position once more. The Reverend Dawes strode over to her and patted the damp seat of her drawers, causing the girl to wince and suck her breath in. The large man chuckled as he squeezed her bottom flesh appraisingly.

"No splits. Excellent. These will do very well."

Monique's bottom was moving in response to his probing and, as his fingers moved down the cheeks and slipped between her legs, she let out a groan. Amelia wondered crossly what this fingering could have to do with the Reverend's professed concern for propriety. Corporal correction was one thing, but it seemed to Amelia that this fondling was improperly intimate, and that Monique's moaning and writhing displayed an indecent response to such liberties. Of course, she reasoned as the girl's cries became more desperate, Monique was nothing but a shop-girl and little better could be expected from common sluts of her type. Still it was appalling that Amelia had to stand and watch the low-bred brute caress his trollop to what was obviously a climax, and she vowed to avenge herself on Monique, should the opportunity ever come her way.

At least she didn't have to watch for very long. The girl soon started groaning and gasping in a most undignified manner and finally fell, squealing, to her knees. She was given but the briefest of interludes to recover, then packed off to extricate herself from the whipping drawers and dress. Amelia sighed with relief as she watched the girl scurry away.

"A most satisfactory experiment," the Reverend said genially as he toyed with his cane. "I should like a dozen pairs initially, Mademoiselle, and two dozen extra back panels."

Reverend D is so naughty!