Hobble Skirt Stories

Hobble Skirt Stories
Original Fiction by Tes
Staylace
©2002

“A short bit of gratuitous
corset-oriented B&D fantasy, to ever remain in the mind.”



                                                          SNIPPET THREE - SMITTY'S ORDEAL

Diane grew more and more
unhappy after the birth of her daughter, Gwenyth. Her ardor sublimated by
David’s system, she was never the same.

She began to
take it out on the help, especially the maids - mostly when David was not home
(although she never hid it). She devised a little penalty system, which
she decided to employ in order to curb misbehavior.

First, she began to require all the ladies to wear stays that were twenty inches
or less in circumference. This new rule was met with some dismay, but,
twenty inches was not outside the realm of possibility for these women, and they
submitted, even though it meant making their physical duties more arduous.

After a few weeks of this, she posted this notice:

FEMALE HOUSEHOLD
STAFF:
HEREBY BE IT KNOWN!

The following
punishments in full or in part are hereby prescribed for misbehavior, the
severity dependent upon the offense:

Confinement to
room, with leather hood, to be from 1 day to 1 week, dependent

Bridal scold
appliance, to be worn for 2 hours to two days, dependent

Tight hobble skirt,
to be worn for 1 week to 1 month, dependent

Whipping or
Paddling, to be 10 to 100 strokes, dependent

Rear arm binder, to
be worn for 1 to 5 days, dependent

Caning, to be 5 to
15 strokes, dependent

Pear gag, to be worn
for 1 to 5 days, dependent

Backboard, to be
worn for 1 to 5 days, dependent

Neck brace, to be
worn for 1 to 5 days, dependent

Single glove, to be
worn for 1 to 5 days, dependent

Reduction in waist,
to be from 2 to 6 inches, dependent

Duration of such
reduction to be for 1 to 4 weeks, dependent
One might
suppose, in view of the harshness of some these “corrective” punishments, the
misdeeds would have reduced in number. No so. Diane had become jaded
and cynical, and as time progressed, it took less and less an egregious act
to warrant a more and more severe "correction" (as she called them).

All that was
exacerbated by her own situation and severe bondage. Bad enough she was
physically restrained and impeded during the day, but merely anticipating the
rigors of an evening in bed with David was difficult with which to deal. And
even though she showed no inclination towards sex after while, David never
relented, believing that such actions were his duty as a husband, and fearing a
relapse on her part if he became lenient. He honesty believed he was being
a good Christian and a loving spouse.
As for the
maids, well, work was difficult to come by, and they were happy to be employed.
So they put up with the never-ending "‘corrections."
Male servants
were treated differently: to wit, the following was posted shortly after the
“female” notice:

MALE HOUSEHOLD
STAFF:
     HEREBY BE IT KNOWN!

The following
punishments in full or in part are hereby prescribed for misbehavior, the
severity dependent upon the offense:


Replacing any maid who is not able to tend to her duties, due to
illness or punishment A full complement of maid’s
uniform, to fit (including under-linens, petticoats and corsets),
has been ordered for this purpose. Tightness of stays will vary,
dependent on servant’s (or butler’s) infraction. However, once
the dimension has been set, it will decreased by ½ inch during each
subsequent correction. Penitents will endure such correction for one
week to one month, dependent, and, during that period, shall be
berthed in maid’s quarters. Maids will be held responsible for
assuring the penitent is laced and dressed properly each morning.
Any failure in this responsibility will bring correction to ALL
maids. Physical arrangements will be made to prevent the abuse of
any maid by the penitent during his berthing there, and a proper
feminine name will be applied for use during the correction period.
During such correction periods, the male household member shall be
corrected in compliance with female procedure, not male, should such
correction be necessary.

Confinement to room,
with leather hood, to be from 1 day to 1 week, dependent

Whipping or
Paddling, to be 10 to 100 strokes, dependent

Pear gag, to be worn
for 1 to 5 days, dependent

Caning, to be 5 to
15 strokes, dependent
So, in light
of these severe proclamations, it should be no surprise that staff were
EXTREMELY careful and timid when carrying out their daily duties. Those
whose duties meant the fairly constant presence of Mistress Diane, were most
careful, and their positions certainly were not coveted by the others.

But, being human (none of the staff could be perfect), ‘corrections’ began to
take several hours a week of most of staff time. Diane’s strictness did
not help matters much but, then, all this was to vent her feelings anyway.

The Mistress,
her arms restrained physically as they were, spent most of her time reading.
“Smitty”, as Miss Smith was nicknamed, has been attending to holding her book
and turning her pages for some time now.
She was a
pretty young raven-haired thing, much in the eyes of the male servants, and with
a bubbly charm.  Smitty certainly did not enjoy this particular task,
but she had gotten used to it and had been managing to avoid correction these
past weeks since the detested proclamations.
The day had
been mundane, and she had been assisting her mistress with her reading now for
about an hour, after Miss Billingsford had accompanied her for a stroll about
the porch. Leaning on her slanted board (her tight leather hobble
petticoat did not permit her to sit), Diane had been in a relatively good mood,
considering her late proclivity toward dourness.
Holding the
book up in front of Diane, Smitty's arms were weary, but she had always managed to
hold them up as Mistress ignored her. Today, however, she was not feeling
that well, and her stays were bothering her a bit. She did not complain,
for she had a day off coming tomorrow, and she did not want to jeopardize it –
Mistress had promised to allow her to go to town with the driver. A real
treat, a reward for good behavior.
Her mind was
elsewhere, thinking of what she might do there, when, a bit woozy, she fell
backward into the glass-doored credenza. No one was there to catch her
fall.
Had she fallen
anywhere else, what transpired next would have been different. Displayed
on this piece of furniture was Diane’s collection of miniature vases from the
Orient, a gift from her father after leaving Mughany, and something she
treasured.
Furthermore,
at that very minute, Gwenyth began screaming for some food from her upstairs
nursery. The concurrent nature of the two happenings rattled Diane,
and made her irate. But she would never take it out on little Gwenyth, who
she loved dearly and, thus, Smitty became the focus of one her intermittent
outbursts of rage.
“WHAT DID YOU
DO, YOU NEGLIGENT GIRL?” forcing herself erect from the leaning board with great
difficulty (she had learned to do this, despite the lack of the use of her
arms).
Smitty was on
the floor, the glass shattered all over the place. Several of the servants
ran in at the commotion. Although Smitty was not cut, she appeared to have
slightly bruised her ankle; but her suffering derived mostly from her
humiliation and fear of what would happen next.
While two of
the male servants helped her to her feet, Diane was anguishing over her ruined
collection. There was silence as everyone waited for Mistress to speak.
But, so distressed was she, that a full five long minutes transpired before she
calmly said, without looking up, ”Burton, take her to the Chamber Room.”
The Chamber
Room was the room for corrections. All outfitting and static punishment
was conducted there, and staff considered it a chamber of horrors.

She was
trembling with fear, her face ashen, as she was escorted the second floor, where
the dreaded room was situated, and she nearly fainted. Burton commiserated
with her, knowing her fate, and having had a few brushes with corrections
himself. To make matters worse, at least for Burton, the servant had had
feelings for the young girl for many months now. Seeing her in such a panic and
anguish, and knowing what was in store for her, made him sick. However,
she was completely oblivious to his affection - he never had the gumption to
express them to her.
And so, they
entered the Chamber Room and she awaited her correction. David had,
months ago, after he began requiring her to wear a hobble petticoat, installed a
new steam-driven elevator, in order that she have a way to get upstairs.
The elevator’s upper terminus was in the very room Smitty and her escort now
stood.
Situated in
the middle of the room was a ‘tribulation bench’, a place in front of which the
penitent would kneel and on which (s)he would rest the upper torso. Just
seeing it there made Smitty and Burton wince, and induce fear immediately.
It was onerous!
After a short
time, the elevator began to chug and presently the two of them could see
Mistress Diane, accompanied by Miss Jane, in the metal cage. Soon, they arrived,
and the door was opened. Then, out they stepped, The Mistress with a stern
and harsh look on her face.
Smitty looked
down at the floor, terrified into silence, while Burton hastened to assist her
from the cage.
The steam
engine stopped and, for a moment, there was total silence, as Diane stared at
the hapless maid. If her arms had not been in elbow binders, one doubts
whether she would have had the self-restraint to prevent herself from striking
her. She was livid.
“Well.
Well,” was all she said after a while. One can only presume she was
deciding on her correction.
“Burton, put
her on the tribulation bench and prepare her.”
Once there,
her wrists were fastened to the hooks on the side, and her skirts were pulled
above her head. Burton then looked toward Diane.
“Twenty with
the paddle…hard! Smitty, you must learn your lesson.”
Smitty knew
better than to respond – she was in tears as it was.
A hard rubber
paddle with holes in it was produced, and Burton began to apply the correction.
With his feelings toward her, however, it was difficult for him to administer
the blows with any semblance of force; the Mistress readily discerned this.
“Harder,
Burton. Harder. Much harder.”
“Yes,
Madame.” But he just could not do it any harder.
“Is there a
problem, sir? Why do you defy me?”
“I…I…my arm
was injured last night, Madame. On the oven.”
“I see.
You did not report the incident?”
“Hmmm.
Go to your room. I shall deal with you later. Miss Jane, take his
place. Begin at one – the full twenty.”
“Yes, Mrs.
Hoskin.”  It was then that poor Smitty began to feel the fire on her
buttocks and began screaming and lurching.
“Wait. Stop.
Can you not restrain yourself, young lady? Stifle her and bind her waist,
Miss Jane. Use the pear-gag.”
Forcing the
gag behind her teeth was difficult, but eventually the deed was done. No
straps were necessary, for it was impossible to push it from behind her teeth
with her tongue. A wide strap was snuggly tied about her waist, over her
upturned petticoats, to prevent further lurching, and attached to hooks on the
sides of the bench. Thigh straps held her to the front of the device.
Smitty was
panicking, choking. But the first heavy slap with the paddle brought her
to her senses, and it was all pain from there on...and on…and on.
“Twenty!
Release her. Put her up.”
Miss Jane
assisted the sobbing, red faced (and red-bottomed!) girl from the bench, after
removing her bonds, but the gag remained in place.
She was
attached to a pulley from the ceiling and stretched a bit, and it dawned on her
that stay tightening was in store next. Stretching her would aid with the
lacing. To make matters worse, she had tightened an inch more than her
usual twenty inches this morning, because, well, she wanted to see how she
looked, in the manner of most young girls. Her vanity was going to result
in making her two inches, not one inch, less than she was yesterday. It
was going to be a long, hard correction!
Miss Jane
unloosed her laced bodice, and Smitty girded herself as the lacing began.
Slowly, the heavy coutil corset grew tighter and tighter, until it was another
half-inch tighter then where it began.
"Stop.
We will tie her off and let her acclimate herself to the tightness for a while.
Smitty, we shall return in an hour to bring in the other half inch. Rest.”
Rest!?
Hanging there? Well, what choice did she have? But her derriere was
burning and her waist was pressing the air from her.
As she hung
there in agony, she fainted.
She was
awakened by someone with his or her hand about her waist.
“Poor lovely
dear,” a male voice whispered. It was Burton!
“I wish I
could release you, but that is impossible. Is there anything else I may do
for you?”
He put his
face next her hers and looked into her eyes. “I could not beat you, so now
I am to be corrected. But…but it will be worth it. I…I think you are
so…nice.”
She blinked,
not knowing how to respond. But he WAS nice.
He began to
rub his face against hers. He couldn’t help it. Smitty was shocked,
but, somehow, she liked it, and didn’t turn her head away (even though it would
have been difficult with the intrusive pear-gag).
Her bodice
being open, he then grazed his head onto her bosom. Somehow, though,
Smitty did not pull away. She liked this forward young fellow; he made her
pain more tolerable. But for the gag, she might have kissed the lad on his
head.
Then,
apparently encouraged, even with her silence, he rubbed her breasts with his
hand. Even that didn’t bother her – she was actually excited, and Burton
sensed that, drawing closer. It was quite obvious that, had Smitty not
been gagged, they would have kissed.  He was about to attempt to
remove said gag, when Mistress Diane and Miss Jane returned, unexpectedly early.
If ever fear
was in a boy’s eyes, well, it was there now. He backed against the wall,
knowing his fate.
Diane said
nothing – she merely motioned for him to leave. But the die was cast -
such an infraction called for the most severe correction, and Burton was not
ready to live as a girl, for however a short period.
As he left
the room, he decided he had to leave – job or no job. Smitty’s groaning
under the tightening laces got dimmer and dimmer as he made his way out the
window and up the road. He knew he would never see Smitty again, but, in
his mind, he really had no choice. No one was going to feminize him!
As for
Smitty, well, she had to live with the extremely tight corset for an entire
week, before The Mistress deigned to allow her her usual girth. If there
WAS a lesson to be learned, well, there can be no doubt she learned it.
She was
perpetually breathless, and her chores were not reduced, nor was she permitted
to do them any slower – it was very difficult time.
When Burton
was discovered to be missing, Smitty was sad – she was beginning to like the
boy. At night, she would dream of him.
Diane sensed
this, and, one day, looked her in her eyes, a small smile on her face, and said,
“He’ll be back.”
David was
amused at all these goings-on, and permitted Diane to continue with her
‘corrections,’ knowing that it was a release and distraction for her.

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An interest in costume sparked an idea for Lorraine to recreate a World War One costume inspired by her research during the Wor Women project.
When I was first asked if I would be interested in the Wor Woman project, my first reaction was, boring, besides I didn’t want to know what my ancestors got up to if the present lot are anything to go by. Then it was explained to me it needn’t be necessarily be about family, it could be about the suffragettes, or the role women played in WW1, hmm still not sure, so they brought out the big guns, costumes (cue sparkly harp music,) now that interested me.
My research began, just how did they get from formal Edwardian S shaped corsets to the free flowing flapper look of the 20s. Answer Poiret, no not the detective Paul Poiret the designer, his influences were eastern and Turkish national dress and they simply did not sit well on a corset, and so he developed undergarments that were more comfortable and practical, hooray for the bra.
To get back to the project, a trip to Beamish was planned and me being me thought - I know, I’ll make a Poiret inspired hat. Back to the Internet, you would not believe the variations of styles around this time from huge picture hats to scull hugging turbans. I decided on a cross between a sort of pill box and turban. I am pleased to say it came out quite well, and was easy enough to make, only one problem it definitely did not go with jeans and trainers.
This was turning into a proper project now, not the I’ll get away with making a hat and that’ll be it I had planned on. Back to the internet, what style, Suffragette, they wore white cotton to stand out in crowds, me in white I don’t think so, land girl in dads trousers and shirt – nope won’t go with my hat. So now I’m thinking Downton Abbey and back to my old pal Poiret, I decided on what was described as a walking outfit, a long hobble skirt with mid length peplum and bolero style jacket. Only problem was the patterns for that era were explained in measurements angles and arcs, no pictures of what pieces should look like. So Basically I fiddled it, and it looked great on Dolly my mannequin.
Time to try it on, now I did tell you it was a hobble skirt, this is a long skirt that flares at hips and gets narrower at ankles, which meant I couldn’t flipping walk! Back to the Internet, there must be a trick to it. There was, tie your knees together so you take smaller steps as not to rip your skirt. I don’t think so, I also found out the hobble was quite short lived in this form as women were prone to falling over whilst trying to manoeuvre steps and some were actually killed because they could not move quick enough to avoid danger. Really now I find out about it, my solution to put a very un-period split up the back of the skirt.
To conclude Beamish was great, everyone loved my outfit and the staff even humoured me by curtsying, after all I was dressed as a Lady, up until the point I showed a little too much interest in their fantastic range of costumes (I knew I should have taken a bigger bag.) I basked in all the praise th
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