by Zoe Blake
“Rapidement! Maintenant! Out of these shabby things!” ordered Madame as she clutched the hem of Winnie’s dress and roughly dragging it over her head. “Oh non, ça ne va pas! Tsk. Tsk. Tsk! Off with these underthings as well.”
Winnie stared at her, mouth agog. Madame tapped her under the chin. “Do not stand there with your mouth open like a frog, you stupid girl,” she chastised.
“But…but Madame, you don’t mean I should take off everything,” she asked in a horrified whisper. “Even my skivvies!”
“I will not have you soiling my delicate creations with these dingy rags!” fumed Madame, her true guttural English accent replacing her practiced French one in her anger.
“Yes, Madame,” sniffed Winnie as she reluctantly pulled at the frayed laces of her corset.
A few minutes later, Winnie hesitantly emerged through the curtains dressed in a pink chenille fairy costume, richly detailed with embroidered rosebuds and sprigs of nasturtiums. The net overlay so delicate it looked as if she floated. Madame had adorned her slim calves with bright green silk stockings. Her small feet in leather dancing shoes with bright gold buckles that were a size too large, so Winnie had to shuffle more than walk up to the raised platform in front of his lordship.
Archer rose and circled the platform, slowly. Winnie kept her gaze lowered. Not wanting either Madame or Archer to guess at the mixed emotions playing across her face. On one hand it was a fairytale come true to be dressed as a fairy princess in a beautiful gown, being admired by a man who could be a handsome prince but that was just her imaginative version of what was happening. The reality was much more deserving of the scary part of a fairytale. The part where Madame is the wicked step-mother and his lordship is the evil lord intent on stealing her virtue.
“Very nice, Madame Minerva, but…may I,” inquired Archer with a raised eyebrow as he approached Winnie.
“But of course, my lord,” acquiesced Madame.
Archer placed his warm palms against Winnie’s stomach. With no corset, only the thin fabric of the chenille protected her skin from his searing touch. With a look daring her to protest, Archer edged his hands around Winnie’s ribcage to cradle her hips. There he nonchalantly inched the delicate fabric up and up. Alarmed, Winnie glanced over her shoulder, hoping for help from Madame. She was disappointed.
“You see for my purposes, Madame. The skirt of the dress will need to be much, much shorter,” explained Archer. His voice filled with dark promise.
As the skirt rose above her knees, Winnie tried to hold it down, silently shaking her head no. I quick warning look from Archer made her drop her hands dutifully to her sides.
“Oh my lord, you are so scandaleux,” tittered Madame as she grabbed some pins to secure the skirt.
“The bodice will also need to be lowered…significantly,” instructed Archer as he resumed his seat. Leaning his chin on his hand, he enjoyed the view of Winnie’s exposed slender thighs, already anticipating the glimpses he would get of her full, young breasts when Madame pulled on the bodice for his requested adjustments.
When Madame had finished with her pins, the skirt of the dress barely covered Winnie’s bottom. The bodice was pulled so low that Winnie could see the barest hint of pink from her nipples. Tears spiked Winnie’s eyelashes as she endured the humiliation of being displayed in such a shameful way. And in broad daylight!
Archer made a swirling motion with his hand. Understanding the command, Winnie reluctantly turned in a circle.
“Again, please.”
As Winnie once again turned, Archer commanded her to stop as she was facing away. In a wave of humiliation, she realized he was getting a better view of her bum. She placed her hand over her mouth to cover the sob that threatened to escape. Madame either did not care or was completely immune to her discomfort.
“Do you perhaps have pink ballet slippers instead of the gold buckles shoes? I think they are too heavy for the overall ensemble.”
“You have an excellent eye. Let me check,” said Madame as she scurried away.
Winnie was trying to sneak down from the platform when Archer’s voice stopped her.
“Stay right where you are, my tiny thief.”
Winnie froze.
“I want you to bend over and touch those cute little toes of yours.”
“Oh please, my lord. I…I can’t,” implored Winnie, her back still turned to him.
“That sounds dangerously close to a no,” snarled Archer.
“It’s just that Madame made me…she made me…Oh my lord, it just wouldn’t be decent!” she whined, twisting to send beseeching looks to him over her shoulder.
“Do as I say,” ordered Archer.
With a start, Winnie grabbed her ankles. To her mortification, she could feel the rush of cool air on her bare bottom as the shortened skirt swooshed up. She tried to reach back and pull on the ruffled hem but Archer slapped at her hands.
Archer was very pleased. Very pleased indeed. He had already decided he was going to take her for his own based on her sexual curiosity, seductive innocence and obvious attraction to viewing and experiencing illicit pain. The fact she had a mouth he couldn’t wait to see stretched wide around the base of his cock was mere icing. Now, viewing her wonderfully lush, creamy white bottom complete with a saucy mole on the upper left cheek, Archer thought it was almost possible she was created just for him. The thought of getting her back to the privacy of his London townhouse where he could pay her bottom the proper attention it deserved made his shaft fill and rise.
His musings of whether he would use a strap or a cane first were interrupted by her muffled confession.
Winnie’s words were soft and low as her face was pressed against the raised ruffled hem about her thighs. “Madame made me remove my unmentionables,” she sniffed. “I’m a good girl, my lord.”
Archer ran the knuckles of his index and middle finger down the slope of her right buttock. The contact startling Winnie but she remained bent over. “Oh my sweet thing, you are many things, but a good girl is not one of them,” his voice a velvet rasp. Pushing his fingers between her thighs, despite her attempt to clench them tight, Archer slid the tips along her slick lower lips. Leaning in close to her ear he whispered, “Only a naughty girl’s cunny would get wet for a man she barely knew.”
Sobbing with shame, Winnie tried to rise, Archer held her in place with a strong hand on the back of her neck. Hooking his fingers, he rapidly flicked them back and forth, catching the untutored bunch of nerves, sending Winnie’s head spinning. Furthering her discomfort, Archer placed the pad of this thumb against her tight dark passage and gently pushed. Winnie groaned low in her throat as she attempted to shift her hips forward to get away from his invasive finger. Archer persisted. Swirling his thumb in a small circle, he again pushed against her resisting passage, testing her.
“Oh, please stop,” she begged.
More from Madame’s impending return than pity on Winnie, Archer pulled his fingers free and allowed Winnie to rise.
Rubbing the tip of his dew covered index finger over her bottom lip, he commanded, “Open your mouth.”
Winnie made a petulant mew with her lips and tried to turn away. The heavy tread of Madame could be heard coming towards them.
“Either open your mouth now or be bent over my knee for the spanking you already richly deserve by the time Madame crosses that threshold,” he warned. His voice barely above a whisper and yet the threat as loud as thunder.
Winnie opened her trembling lips. Archer pushed his two fingers in past the first knuckle. Forcing her tongue to rub along their ridged, salty edge. “Suck,” he ordered.
Hearing Madame’s approach ever closer, Winnie did not dare disobey. Her tear streaked cheeks hollowed out as she drew on his fingers. Tasting the guilt and pleasure of her own arousal.
“That’s what wickedness tastes like,” he said as his mouth curved into a seductive smile that did not quite reach his eyes.
Madame breezed into the main salon.
“My apologies, my lord, for the wait but we are rewarded,” she declared triumphantly, holding aloft several pairs of ballet slippers in various pastel colors. Taking in Winnie’s flushed face and Archer’s close stance, she demanded, “What is going on?”
“Oh nothing to bother about, Madame. Your poor shop girl was startled by the sticking of a pin in her side. I assisted in finding the offending object and was now just comforting her.”
“Oh pooh, Winnie, you should know better than to shed tears over a silly pin prick,” admonished Madame. “Go and get out of that dress, we have others to try on.”
“Yes, Madame.” Winnie could not wait to escape the intense observant presence of his lordship. The moment she was behind the dressing curtains she started to tear at the fairy dress. It was as if she could not breathe.
“Bien! You are undressed. Lord Archerly would like to see this next.”
Madame held up a piece of pale yellow fluff, festooned with flounces cut through with pink satin trimmings entwined with real pearls. “Arms up,” she instructed.
“No corset or petticoat with this one either, Madame,” Winnie asked tentatively, not wanting to anger her employer but unwilling to once again walk out into the salon without the added protection of additional fabric.
“No and we must pin this one up much like the other,” she said, her voice partially muffled by a mouth already full of pins.
“It is not decent!” Winnie could not help the burst of emotion.
“My dear, if you stay in this business long enough you will learn there are very few things the upper crust do that is decent. They are almost worse than the French. The real French,” she humored with an ironic laugh. “They fuck. They feast. Then they fuck again. What do we care as long as they have the coin to pay us? Besides, they do nothing so-called decent, church-going, hard-working folk wouldn’t love to do themselves if they had two moments and two shillings to rub together!”
“So you don’t think it is evil or wrong?” Winnie entreated.
“For some big lord to have some fun playing dress up with a lady love light skirt? Heaven’s no! If I were twenty years younger…” she mused. At Winnie’s shocked looked, Madame threw back her shoulders and said with a wave of her hand, “What with your silly looks! Bah! You are too young to appreciate such a handsome specimen of a man that Lord Archerly is, so tall, those eyes! Now hurry, we have wasted too much time with this nonsense talk!”
Pushing Winnie ahead of her, Madame once again displayed her on the platform before Lord Archerly. As before, this dress had been altered with pins to show the tops of her breasts almost to her nipples. The skirt was shortened to such a scandalous degree it barely covered her bottom. “What do you think, your lordship? Childish, non? Just like you requested!”
“You have not disappointed, Madame.”
Winnie peeked at him through her lowered lashes. She had the distinct impression he was not referring to the dress.
“I will require both of those dresses as well as the ones listed here. Each of the dresses will also need two large buttons on the back right here and here.” Archer placed his hand on Winnie’s lower back, caressing his fingers along the top edge of her bottom cheeks. “With button holes on the edge of the skirt so that it may be lifted up and easily secured.”
At this highly improper, wickedly, mischievous request even Madame’s cheek’s turned a delicate pink as she guessed the reasons behind his unusual request, she was pretending to be French after all. Then she looked at the list. “Oh my!” she exclaimed.
“I trust none of my requests will be a problem?” he arrogantly questioned, eyebrow raised.
It took Madame a moment to recover. “No, my lord. They will not.”
“Wonderful. I will pay double your usual rate if you have them ready and delivered to my townhouse in a fortnight. Here is my card.”
Archer strode across the salon, retrieving his top hat and cane. Before leaving, he turned one more time, nonchalantly he stated, “Oh and, Madame, please have your shop girl here deliver them. I may need one or two modeled again before I complete the purchase.”
“Of course, my lord. I will also personally come to supervise...” Her preening comments were cut off by Archer.
“That will not be necessary. I would not want to take up any more of your valuable time.” With a pointed look in Winnie’s direction, he said, “I just want the shop girl.” And with that, he was gone.
Madame collapsed into the first seat she could find as she stared at his precise list. Winnie fell to her knees at Madame’s feet, curiosity overwhelming her.
“Madame, what is on that list?”
“I am afraid, my silly girl, you are far too young to know what is on this list.” Guessing at his illicit intentions for the listed costumes, Madame muttered half to herself, “I might be too young for this list!”
Chapter Four
There was not a needlewoman in Madame Minerva’s shop who was not abuzz about Lord Archerly’s shocking commission. Speculation was rife. The list included costumes from all sorts of classic fairy tales as well as numerous childish dresses, nightgowns and underthings but sized for a petite woman. All included the wickedly low bodice, impossibly high skirt and the strange request for the buttons on the back. The list requested all types of hair ribbons and slippers but no bonnets, wraps or shoes suitable for outside wear.
Some speculated it was a trousseau for a new wife. Others thought it was far too unsuitable for a wife and must be for a mistress. Still others whispered it was probably for more than one mistress. Some of the older, conservative matrons tried to insist it was probably all innocent, that his lordship was more than likely putting on a play of some sort given his patronship of various London theaters, but no one really believed their weak arguments.
Winnie remained mute on the topic. Refusing to be drawn in. Afraid her response would give her true feelings on the subject away…or at least her obsession with the subject since she didn’t even know her true feelings. The man frightened and excited her, of that at least, she was sure. Whether she was looking forward to the day they delivered his order with fear or excitement, she was not so sure.
~
The subject of some of the best tittle tattle Madame Minerva’s shop had seen in years, was at that moment sitting at his study desk, attending to business.
“How are we with the preparations, Gladstone?” inquired Archer without looking up from the ledger he was currently correcting.
“Very good, considering the customization requested and the time restrictions,” responded Gladstone. Archer’s man-of-affairs going on ten and five years. A small persnickety man with a nervous twitch, he was nevertheless efficient and did not ask bothersome questions which suited Archer’s needs.
“I do hope you are not hinting at an excuse as to why my requests may not be fulfilled in the time allotted?” warned Archer, again without bothering to favor Gladstone with so much as a glance.
“Indeed not, sir,” said Gladstone, slightly affronted at even the hint he may not complete his duties as instructed in the time requested. “The particular furniture commissioned should be delivered within the next three days. This should be a suitable amount of time for the work crew to finish with the painting and papering of the em…nursery. I have arranged for Hamley’s to deliver the dollhouse and stuffed toys the day after the furniture.”
“Were they able to procure the large bear?” asked Archer.
“They have staked their reputation as the oldest and best toy store in London on being able to do so by the end of the week, my lord,” said Gladstone confidently.
“Very good,” confirmed Archer as he closed the ledger. “And the theatrical sets?”
“Already in the ballroom, my lord,” said Gladstone as he rose. “May I begin sending in the Nannies for you to interview, my lord? The references for the ones I have selected are there to your right.”
Archer perused the stack of letters. “You made sure to only include ones
who are described as strict disciplinarians?”
“Per your instructions, yes, my lord.”
“Very good, Gladstone. Send the first one in.”
“My lord,” responded Gladstone with a bow as he exited the study. Motioning with a crook of his finger for the first waiting Nanny to proceed into the study. It was not his position to question his lordships motives for his unusual requests, thought Gladstone. All the upper class were as mad as hatters anyway. Lord Archer was better than the rest and he paid well. Well enough for Gladstone to not bat an eyelash when asked to procure a cradle large enough for a small woman or various leather objects from the local saddlery. There was something unique about his staff as well. Lord Archerly personally selected each member of the staff for employment. Gladstone suspected they had duties outside the usual management of a gentleman’s household but he never inquired. It was not his business. Besides, his staff was as well paid and as content as he. Yes, mad as hatters thought Gladstone with a shake of his head and smile as he went to check on the work crew converting the third floor to a large nursery.
~
The imposing black carriage pulled by two matching dappled grays arrived at Madame Minerva’s just after morning tea. A footman dressed in a smart livery of silver and deep blue stepped into the salon.
“I’m here at the behest of Lord Archerly, Madame. I am to transport a Miss Applegarth as well as some purchases to him,” said the footman with a proper bow.
“My, how nice of his lordship to send his carriage along with a member of his staff. Sparing me the price of a hack. Hurry up, you silly girl! We mustn’t keep his lordship waiting,” chastised Madame with a quick pinch to Winnie’s upper arm.
Madame had dressed Winnie at the height of fashion for the occasion. The gown was a rich green and gold silk tapestry pattern with a heavily-boned bodice which laced behind like a second corset. The design emphasizing her small waist and large bosom despite her lack of stature. Folds of moire draped across the front and sides, swooping up to a large gold bow over the bustle. The thick tapestry fabric coupled with the extra boning in the bodice made the dress heavy and stiff. Winnie was thrilled. She felt covered from tip to toe. Protected.
