Teena Thyme by Jennifer Jane Pope Read Free Book Online Page B

her unexpected show of calm acceptance. 'String me up on your devilish contraption and do your worst with me.'
     
    As I said before, I was pretty good at English and history, but the sciences, including physics, had never been my strong suit, so my knowledge of leverage and gears was - and still is - pretty basic. It therefore came as a bit of a surprise to me just what sort of results could be achieved from a traditional corset, where the arrangement of laces transfers even a fairly modest effort into quite a breathtaking force - quite literally.
    Bit by bit the two halves of the amazing garment began to close in on each other and I quickly mastered the technique, going back over the two end sections to produce extra slack in the laces and then working my way back towards the centre each time, so that I quickly had quite a lot of excess lace ends dangling from my hands. Then, eventually, there was only the narrowest strip of satin-clad me visible between the two sections.
    By this time I was starting to feel more than a bit breathless and, as I paused to consider, I realised that I was also becoming just a little light-headed and my heart was pounding furiously, in an effort to replace the oxygen that obviously wasn't getting through to those parts of me that needed it.
    I took a deep breath, or at least, I tried to. It was absolutely impossible, the vicious boning trying to crush my ribs for my efforts. I let out a little grunt and tried again, this time concentrating on my upper lungs, the way I'd read that ladies in the past had managed to breathe whilst constrained so mercilessly. It had sounded so simple, when printed on the page, but this was no historical novel and it took me several minutes to get the hang of it, while all the time I leaned against the wall for support.
    At last, however, my pulse settled down to a mild canter and my head cleared again and yes, at that point I should have tied the laces off and considered it a good first try. In fact, if I'd had any sense I'd have loosened the damned corset, or maybe even removed it altogether. However, a combination of misplaced bravado and my innate hatred of being beaten by anything, let alone a mere piece of bloody clothing, led me into realms that would have been better avoided, at least for a while.
    I stared down at myself; fascinated by the changes the corset had already wrought to me. I'd always been proud of my figure: slim without being skinny, my height giving me a certain advantage over shorter people, male and female alike, with only my slightly rounded bottom giving me any cause for complaint. What I now saw, however, was something that looked quite different.
    My boobs - not large by any standards, but certainly large enough to content those boyfriends I'd let close enough to them - had now been lifted much higher and the half cups at the top of the corset seemed to be presenting them for display, or offering them for - well, I needn't draw you a picture here, I'm sure.
    'Blimey!' I gasped, nearly sending myself cross-eyed with the effort of focusing. 'Nell bloody Gwynne!' I started laughing and immediately wished I hadn't, for the whalebone stays immediately reminded me that such a foundation was no laughing matter. I regained my composure and looked further down.
    Was that my waist? Ye gods and little swimming things, where had it gone? That wasn't a waist; it was some sort of pipe stem, surely? And where had those hips sprung from? My bum might have been a bit prominent, but I'd never had hips that generous, surely?
    Of course, it was all a bit of an optical illusion, I quickly realised. Compressing my waist had simply made the rest of me look larger in proportion and I didn't even dare try to look at the rear view just yet! I could imagine my poor bottom must now look huge, but then I also knew that men throughout all the ages have been attracted to prominent female buttocks just as frequently as they've been aroused by a prominent bosom. Well, I