Red with shame, Mabel took the tiny and did her best to put them on. They were too tight and she was very ranch afraid to tear it by slipping them up her thighs. It became much more of a problem when it came to the behind: her buttocks could not tighten themselves sufficiently to allow an adequate passage to the silken prison. But at last, helped by two or three lashes of the horsewhip, she managed. Her rumps were so tight and the material sticking so much against them that it felt like a second skin. Her sex was bruised by the silk pulling and stretching over it, and the panties penetrated into the cleavage of her buttocks as deeply as possible and she experienced a burning sensation.
Then Mabel understood the use of the forty white buttons that adorned her corset, for Bridget had sewn forty corresponding buttonholes all around the waist of the drawers. One after the other they were tied and then the panties were hermetically help up in position without any possibility of movement and drawn upwards still more although that seemed impossible.
The poor English girl felt extremely uncomfortable. She did not dare make any brisk move for fear of tearing the material which moulded her. Encompassed by her panties and stays she walked with dainty steps and feared the moment when she would have to sit down.
Yet she was not yet at the end of her torments.
"That's not all," Miss von Berner said, "you aren't sufficiently imprisoned between your legs. We're going to strap you."
She took out of a cupboard a wide tape of varnished leather with a hook at each end. It was put upon her like a hygienic towel, with one end fixed to the stays in front and the other behind, by hooks. It was applied with extreme tightness, crushing her sex and driving into the cleavage of her buttocks. Mabel felt awfully strapped and harnessed.
Dorothea threw her a pair of fine black silk stockings.
"Sit down and put these on!" she ordered.
To sit down, there was the rub! With infinite precautions the girl bent gradually down, feeling her stays pressing hard against her stomach and the strap between her legs hurting her. The panties did not tear but Bridget and the governess burst out laughing at the spectacle of the slave's efforts not to tear them.
When Mabel had put on the stockings, they were fixed by garters of red satin with ornaments in the shape of little knots, which were tied tightly round her thighs.
Dorothea now produced a pair of strange-looking shoes: high boots of varnished, leather with laces and heels about four inches high.
"You'll have to get used to high heels that will oblige you to hold yourself straight," the governess said. "I'll make your wear some five inches high. Now you're going to wear these high boots which will discipline your calves."
It was true. The varnished boots imprisoned Mabel's legs very closely. Besides, they were at leant one size too small and hurt the delicate feet of the poor English girl.
Dorothea obliged her to walk round the room ten times. She was so tightened on all her body by the different garments that she walked stiffly like a robot. She was egged on by whip lashes and now and then she let out a sob of despair.
But the dressing up was not finished. It was completed by pink silk cami-knickers which the girl had to slip on over her stays. They, too, had been shortened and tightened by Bridget and moulded narrowly all the contours of her body stopping just underneath the knees.
Then the girl put on a white silk blouse and a very tight black skirt closed in front from top to bottom by a row of buttons.
"I hope," the governess mocked," that you feel well disciplined in your clothes. Wearing very tight clothes is the best way to peg down your excessive pride."
She walked up to her victim.
"Put your hands behind your back!" she snapped.
Mabel, trembling, obeyed and Dorothea put the girl's palms together and tied them up with a string.
"You will always have your hands tied," she ordered, "except when I need you for some domestic work. You must get used no longer to have any personal initiative and to be only a machine that carries out my orders when and the way I want to".
She then saw that Mabel seemed to be ill-at-ease and that she was moving from one foot to the other.
"Well, what's the matter with you, what are you dancing about?"
"Excuse me, Mistress," the girl said awkwardly, "but I would like to… I need to go to…"
"To what? Explain yourself clearly!"
"To the toilet," the girl said, blushing.
During the time she had been a free girl, she had always hated mentioning such things. An extreme modesty paralysed anything that concerned these bodily needs.
But Dorothea was not such a prude.
"To pee, or for something else?" she asked.
"Both, Mistress!"
"How many times a day do you usually go to the toilet?"
Blushing hard, the girl thought for a moment.
"About six or seven times, Mistress," she answered.
"Well, from now on, you shall go only twice, once in the morning and once in the evening. It's an excellent exercise of discipline for a girl being re-educated to have a physical need she is not allowed to satisfy. Every morning and evening, when you feel the need coming, you will ask Bridget very politely. If she deems it necessary, she will then give you her permission and accompany you to watch the operation. For this time I advise you to have patience for you will be allowed to go only in about an hour or two."
Those words left Mabel dumbfounded and even appalled. The idea that her governess should control even those things revolted her deeply. In spite of her submission and the fear of the whip she was about to revolt and insult her torturer. But, once more, the fear of the consequences made her keep silent.
Miss von Berner had gone out for a while. She came back holding three huge photos. They were three pictures of herself — one whole-length, in a suggestive bathing-suit which moulded her sculptural body, the second one in riding-trousers and with a riding-crop in her hand; the third was a larger-than-life portrait where Dorothea appeared very beautiful, with a cruel and domineering expression and the steely glint of her eyes. She placed the three photos on the cupboard and laid before them a horse-whip and a dog-whip.
"From now on," she said, "these photos will remain in your room and I want you to learn to contemplate them with respect and adoration, for not only I want you to fear me, but also to love me, with a vile grovelling love-the love of a slave for her mistress, the all-mighty one. Now your future schedule will be this (until you become a well-trained save): it will begin with one hour of worship and prayers. You will kneel in front of my photos and, while you lean towards me, you will pray God that He give you a supple and docile soul and that He should help you atone for your faults and the insolence of your past life. You will pray to me, too, for you must get it into your head that I am all and you are nothing. Yes, I know, you won't have much thoughts in the first days, but, thanks to my education, there will come the moment when your adoration for me will be natural and genuine and you will pray to me as to a goddess without my having to order you to do so."
Mabel listened to her with awe and fright. She wondered whether the governess was insane and whether her folly would gradually gain in upon her. She read in the eyes of the beautiful Dorothea a kind of sadistic expression which acted upon her like a mysterious magnet. Almost mechanically she knelt down in front of the photographs.
"I shall leave you to your worship," Dorothea went on. "If you have moved but half an inch when I come back, you shall be cruelly punished. And try to hold back the need you mentioned just now because Bridget, before leading you to the toilet, will inspect your underclothes, and if ever they are found to be damp you will be whipped till blood comes!"
Miss von Berner beckoned to Bridget and both women left the room, locking it up behind them.