She was wearing white cotton regulation knickers and suspenders in black, stretching down to the wide welt of her stockings. The redness of her cheeks...flushed from around the crisp edge of her knickers where Dan had laid his slipper. Once more he tapped her bottom gently before administering the first of four strokes to her knickers. "Yeeeooow!" came the response as the smooth sole bounced off her thin pants rapidly from one cheek to the other. It was all she could do to stay bent over as Dan. "My husband died," she took a breath thrusting forth her pointed breasts, shoulders back unconscious of the effect, "let's see, four, no five months ago. Hereabouts, the tradition is for a full year of wearing crepe."She essayed a small smile, a nervous habit it seemed. "I cannot marry for a year nor consort with men. You must stay out of sight, I fear, during your time here, but my servants are trustworthy." He a farmer?" I asked, subduing my growing curiosity and making polite conversation. More

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