Hall of Infamy (18 page)

‘Ah, you silly girls, you think Mademoiselle Isobel has never done a fitting with a reluctant young lady?
La
! Now,
ma petite
, be nice and hold the tape for me, and do not make me use my little encourager again!' The woman's voice was high and gay, but Amelia did not doubt that she would instantly employ the needle to gall her again if her client did not co-operate. Grunting as the little belt was tightened around her waist, Amelia did her best not to sob and to ignore the voices below her.

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

‘That's right, Reverend! And we will fit her with rubber 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, your drawers 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. 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 properly, Reverend. It might help to dissuade Monique from giving herself such airs!'

Amelia could not prevent a gurgling sound as the tape was worried deep into the cleft between her legs. The rubbing tape was provoking the very strangest feelings as she helplessly clutched the end of the thing. As with Clara, the process seemed to take forever. Amelia's awareness of her shameful nudity seemed even more mortifying, somehow, now that she felt the baleful gaze of the Reverend Dawes on her naked body. Felt, rather than saw, for she could not bring herself to look at him. She could not and did not look down at the source of the maddening sensations but, having just watched Clara go through the same ordeal, Amelia was appallingly certain that all other eyes were fixed on the smooth flesh of her now ripely swollen mons.

She bit back a sob of relief as she felt the tape measure tugged out from between her labia. As Mademoiselle Isobel unbuckled the belt, Amelia ventured a glance at Clara, who had been allowed to pull her knickers up before leaving the platform, and then given back her smock. The blonde girl now stood staring into space with that faraway expression on her face. Much as she hated her nursery costume, it was a lot better than nothing. Amelia's fingers fairly itched in anticipation of being given permission to retrieve her own panties and smock.

‘All right now,
cherie
, pull off your knickers for me altogether,
vite
!'

Amelia was too aware of Mademoiselle's needle to refuse. So she bent, pulled down and stepped out of the frilly knickers, trying not to show her distress too much to the audience. As she had not been ordered differently, she let her left hand move over her shaven quim and her right across her breasts, hoping against hope that Jamie would not order her to uncover herself. To her relief, for once, she was not disappointed.

‘You wished to see some rubber pantaloons now, Monsieur Jamie? Shall we repair to the rainwear section?'

The little party walked over to another part of the shop. For no good reason, that Amelia could see, the Reverend Dawes came with them, swapping jocularities with Jamie. Amelia hurried through the shop, which was thankfully less busy now than it had been earlier, desperately trying to hide her nakedness and fervently wishing she had another pair of arms.

The rainwear section of the shop smelt powerfully of rubber. The pungent odour of latex seemed to be haunting Amelia, and the scent was so strong here it made her feel a little giddy.

There were several racks of mackintoshes and some shelves stocked with galoshes in this part of the store, but there was also a plethora of other garments that, to Amelia at least, seemed to have little to do with protection from the elements. The naked girl was given a few moments to wonder at her surroundings, as the two men and Mademoiselle Isobel began discussing the various sorts of rubber pantaloons which the Mademoiselle took out from a massive set of drawers.

Some of the rubber garments hanging from the racks looked just like dresses, other items like uniforms for nurses or maids. There was latex underwear garnished with copious rubber frills, rubber gloves and stockings, and great enveloping capes. Amelia glanced over at her cousin to see what she made of this bizarre array, but Clara was still staring into space distractedly.

‘Now, rubber knickers must be very tight.' Isobel's voice was brisk but there was no mistaking the note of amusement in it. ‘We have various designs, you see. These are the new style, legless panties. Or we have the bloomer type with the directoire leg, which I would recommend as more secure. Try these on,
ma petite
. They should fit you, I think!'

Why the Frenchwoman should think anything of the sort was a mystery to Amelia. It was clear to her from the beginning that the rubber bloomers were far too small.

‘Oh, no, Mademoiselle, I really can't – these are too tight.' The note of panic in Amelia's voice was due to Mademoiselle Isobel's position behind her bare bottom and Amelia's suspicion that the needle was itching in her hand.

‘Of course they are not too tight, silly,' Isobel said in an amused voice. ‘It is just that you need talcum powder.' She clapped her hands. ‘Yvette, leave that now. Bring me the talcum powder and a brush, and then bring us some
caf
‚!'

The powder was duly brought and with it a make-up brush. It was so soft that its touch proved all but unendurable. Mademoiselle Isobel had to ask Jamie to hold Amelia down as she applied the talcum powder over her legs and thighs.

‘Ooh, no, I can't stand it. No, please, not there – it tickles so, aiee…!'

‘Ah, but you will need it in those ticklish places later, or the rubber will stick and then where will you be,
cherie
?'

‘Oh, oh, please, no more. Mercy…!'

‘Be still, Amelia, and stop fidgeting, or I shall have to punish you most severely when we get home.'

‘A wilful child! I see you have your work cut out with this one, Jamie. The doleful results of sparing the rod can be seen in such comportment amongst so many modern misses, I am afraid to say,' the Reverend Dawes put in sympathetically.

Eventually the powder was applied to Mademoiselle's satisfaction and, with a great deal of effort and some help from Jamie, the rubber bloomers were eventually pulled up. To say that they fitted like a second skin would be the height of understatement, unless that be epidermis stretched taut over swollen flesh. The bloomers gripped Amelia tight about the legs, and clasped her mons even more firmly. She closed her eyes and tried to think of something other than the chafing of the rubber as it stretched over her clitoris. This was not easy, for she was made to parade up and down.

‘Yes, these are just the thing for bedwear, Mademoiselle. I think the legless ones will be better with the smock. Do those come with frills?'

‘
Oui
, Monsieur. Note the elastics above the knee and at the waist are just a little tighter than the rest. That sometimes chafes, so should be used with petroleum jelly. These yellow ones are semi-transparent, as you see, but both also come in black, white, pale blue and pink, though all of those colours are more opaque.'

Let me take them off. For pity's sake, let me take them off
. Amelia pleaded with her eyes but she did not dare to speak. She was getting more desperate with every stiff, peculiarly squeaking step. If I cannot take the damned things off, she thought, at least let me stand still!

‘Pick your legs up, Amelia.' Jamie's voice was sharp. ‘I did not tell you to shuffle. Pick those legs up now.'

Amelia was trapped in a nightmare. Forced to march, naked, up and down, she was unable to ignore the presence of the Reverend Dawes, who seemed almost to devour her with his awful eyes. Yet every step brought her closer to disaster. Every step stretched the rubber sheath over her clitoris, just a little tighter. Every step brought disaster inexorably closer. It was as if she were being forced to march right over a cliff.

‘Ooh. Ahhh. Aiee!' The inevitable happened at last, forcing a strange strangled shriek from between Amelia's lips. Just for a second her ordeal, her tormentors, the whole world vanished, wiped out by an incandescent flash of ecstasy.

Amelia came to herself all too soon. It was too appalling. She found herself on her knees in a fashionable shop, wearing nothing but a pair of clammy rubber knickers. Jamie, the Reverend Dawes and Mademoiselle Isobel were all looking down at her with amused distaste.

‘Good Lord, Amelia, what an extraordinary performance!' said Jamie, but it was the Reverend Dawes whose verdict she waited for, head bowed.

‘The girl is evidently an incorrigible wanton, Jamie. I am about to test a new design of flogging drawers, that Mademoiselle Isobel has been good enough to run up to a design of my own. Perhaps we should see how these rubber items stand up to similar wear and tear!'

Amelia stood waiting glumly next to Clara, both girls standing to attention, hands held neatly, as ordered, at their sides. Her smock had finally been restored to her, but her loins were still gripped in the clammy rubber embrace. The legs of the bloomers descended below the hem of the silk smock, and Amelia was only too aware of the bizarre sight she must have made.

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; a stiffness that reminded Amelia of the difficulty in walking that the rubber bloomers had caused her.

‘Ah, there you are, Monique. Yvette! Trot along and fetch a number three 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 that the Reverend is eager to see what we have done with his design.'

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 laced tight about a neat waist and equipped with lace-trimmed cups to support her full breasts. However, it was the shop assistant's lower body that compelled Amelia's attention. She could not have conceived of anything tighter than the latex monstrosities that gripped her own loins yet, if anything, these 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 always desirable for single gentlemen to beat nubile young females on the bare!' 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 silk 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 four-foot length of yellow cane from Yvette, who had 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 leant forward and prodded the girl's quim gently with the tip of his rod, provoking a terrified little squeak.