Thread: Asking for Directions {darkangel76 & Alan23}

Yes, Ma'am, agreed Galvie. I repeat, I have no complaints about my treatment. He noticed that she'd obviously taken his hint, and did whatever needed doing to her bothersome corset, for her breasts at which he only just managed not to stare were again standing out defiantly. He noticed too that she was blushing. Obviously it must have been difficult for her, to have to rely upon her prisoner - who was supposedly in her power - to save her from such an awkward social situation. And the fact that she knew that he knew was hardly calculated to increase her poise, either! It happens with women with small tits, he heard a voice say, anonymously from the ranks of the soldiers milling around. My wife had the same trouble, once. Corsets kinda creep down, an' everything pops out. The voice was too much of a murmur to attribute a source, yet Galvie had heard it - ad the chuckle that accompanied the remark - quite plainly. He found himself half-hoping that Miss Hammond hadn't heard it, too. Really, these troopers were not the most respectable of attendants, he thought, considering this was the daughter of their president! Not for the first time he was glad he'd been born a man, and didn't have to deal with the trials of corsets, stockings, dresses, make up, petticoats... for a male, dressing could be done in less than a minute as he'd proven to himself many times... He found his eyes flickering down to the hem of Miss Hammond's dress. The previously pristine material was now stained with mud, showing that she'd actually gone right into the center of the shower, so that she couldn't be seen from outside. Further proof, if such were needed, that she'd taken his hint and made use of the privacy. By now, he'd donned the cotton tee-shirt that they'd given him, so at least she'd be spared the embarrassment of looking at his bare torso. He couldn't resist, however, flexing his arms just subtly, guessing it might have an effect upon her. He doubted if Harry Smythe was built as athletically as he was... and anyway, that gentleman was far away. I thank you again, Ma'am, for ensuring such comforts as I enjoy, he continued, somehow wishing her to linger. Well, after all, it wasn't as if he had a full social calendar! My admiration for you and your family is confirmed. Cleverly, he'd pretended to be complimenting her generosity and sense of fairness, and by implication that of the president, yet... and here, he was being even more subtle... he managed to meet her eyes, just for a split second, as he said the word admiration... implying that she could, if she wished, accept his words as an attempt at mild flirtation. As he spoke, his long-ingrained habit of watching those around him a tactic used by any soldier who wishes to stay alive caused him to notice that the eyes of the attendant troopers were fixed upon Miss Hammond. Not, though, the careful watch of guards charged with ensuring the safety of an important personage, nor even and, here, he wouldn't have entirely blamed them scrutinizing her breasts, now that they were again molded into such charming perfection by her newly adjusted corset. Instead, for some reason, they were smirking, and looking at her back. Since she was facing him, whatever had attracted their attention and obviously causing them some amusement was hidden to him. Perhaps, he mused, the muddying of the previously perfect dress was worse at the rear. As she continued speaking, discussing the beauty or otherwise of the Ozark region, the Northern edge of which they had now approached, he found his mind speculating as to exactly what was wrong. Miss Hammond had been fortunate in many aspects of her birth, he mused, being born into riches and social prestige, and with stunning good looks to complete the package. But, almost as if fate wished to mitigate her otherwise unimpaired luck, she seemed to experience more than the average run of bad luck as far as her attire was concerned. Yesterday it had been a slipping garter, today her hem had become muddied and her corset had broken out in open rebellion. Still, she'd got everything sorted, at least. He hoped she was grateful. And then she turned, looking at the distant mountains, as if to illustrate what she was saying, and Galvie had to force himself not to react. He saw now the cause of the troopers' hilarity. Obviously poor Miss Hammond had found it necessary to unzip the rear fastening of her dress in order to bring her corset to heel... and had been unable to zip it back up to its fullest reach. She had obviously done her best, but it was still a good nine inches shy of being totally done up. A faux pas, he knew, enough to damn her in any gathering of polite society, and guaranteed to attract catty remarks along the lines of Oops, left the blinds down have we, Andromeda, or Dressed in a hurry, did we? And, furthermore, her movement, and the tightness of the dress was causing gravity to add to the problem, for the handle of the zipper appeared slowly, almost imperceptibly, to be moving slowly downward. In fact, like their entourage, it was heading South! In the few seconds that he watched, the zip began to gape more. By now, it was at least twelve inches shy of where it should have been, and the top of the corset, that had already caused her such anguish, was again visible. None of the troopers seemed inclined to discreetly let her know. They were too busy enjoying the sight. And then an idea struck Galvie, daring in its intensity. It would mean he risked a whipping - but what the fuck, he was going to a date with a firing squad anyway. How could things get any worse? Swiftly, before the troopers set as his guard could react, he moved forward, taking everyone - even Miss Hammond - by surprise. Do excuse me, Ma'am, he said, in his soft, Anneslandian drawl, so polite that, even given the circumstances, she would have been hard-pushed to find in any way threatening. He reached out and zipped up the fastening to its fullest extent, and then hastily stepped back before he could be accused of anything more dramatic. So quick had he moved that he was back in his position before any of the troopers could react, or Miss Hammond could turn around. She'd know what he'd done, though. He tensed himself, bracing his body for what he assumed would be some kind of retribution for his lese-majesty, from the guards. Still, he mused, somehow it had been worth it.