Hall of Infamy Read Online Free Page B

her black woollen stocking. ‘I think we will have the skirts taken up to here, anyway. It is just too much of a business getting them out of the way every time I want to give you a quick freshener.’
    Betsy tried to stop her bottom lip from trembling.
    â€˜Of course,’ he sighed, using the cane to stroke the side of her leg, over the woollen stocking, ‘these will have to go. I’ll order some silk hose for you. Won’t that be fine?’
    This was a direct question and so she had to answer. ‘Yes, sir,’ she said, trying to sound appropriately grateful.
    In truth, fine silk stockings were the last thing that she wanted. The things laddered if you looked at them too hard. Betsy had seen the chambermaids bent over far too often, as they were made to atone for sins that they had been adjudged to have committed against expensive silk.
    â€˜Drawers now, Betsy.’ Jamie’s voice was low and even-toned, but there was no doubt that it was an order. Her fingers fumbled at the knot as she wondered if he would order these replaced as well. The old-fashioned drawers could be opened easily enough at the back for purposes of punishment, but they would look ridiculous with a shortened skirt.
    Betsy’s face was crimson as she resumed her position. It seemed she would never get used to this: standing in nothing but her long black corset and her stockings, breasts bulging out of the top and private parts entirely bare to the young man’s scrutiny. Her fingers fluttered at her sides, desperate to cover her nakedness – but the cane, languidly waving in Jamie’s hand, kept them trembling in their place.
    â€˜By God, you really are a great piece, Betsy.’ Jamie chuckled appreciatively and took a swig of brandy. ‘I don’t know when I’ve seen bigger titties. Unhook your front and get them out for me.’
    Betsy had always been big. Some might have called her fat, although she had a waist even without the benefits of corseting. The tight-laced beast she struggled with now could not quite force her plumpness into a fashionable hourglass, but it certainly emphasised her curves. It was back-laced and hooked at the front so, theoretically, it should have been simple to undo, but the pressure exerted by the merciless lacing meant she had a real struggle to unhook it at the top. Finally she got the first metal fastening open.
    â€˜No, don’t take it off. Just get those titties out!’
    Betsy had hoped she would have escaped the thing, at least for the duration of her punishment. The long corset always made bending over such a trial. She did as she was bidden; having loosened the top she was able to pull her breasts out and over the top of the corset’s front.
    â€˜Hands on your head.’
    Scarlet-faced and totally exposed, Betsy did as she was ordered. Her breasts were relatively firm and shapely, considering their size, and the action pulled them up so that they jutted out before her.
    â€˜What’s this?’ There was a sharp and displeased note to his voice. She felt the tip of his cane poke at her pudenda.
    Betsy had no idea. She looked down but all she could see was the white expanse of her breasts, blotting out anything below.
    â€˜I – I don’t know, sir,’ she said hoarsely.
    â€˜I do. It’s stubble. This is poor grooming, Betsy, do you not agree?’
    Betsy tried to blink back her tears. ‘Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,’ she managed.
    â€˜Never mind. Put yourself a black mark in the big book, get yourself sheared first thing, and we’ll say no more about it. Now, come here. No, closer.’
    Hesitantly, she stepped closer, until she was right at his side. Jamie put the brandy balloon down, though he retained the cane. Betsy closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing as he ran his hand up her thigh and over the big mounds of her bottom. He rested it there for a moment, using his fingers to caress her left