My interest in this was
first aroused at the first place I worked, when I was a junior in the accounts
department of a factory making cosmetics.The stories of the activities
of the factory girls in carrying out initiations or punishments of male
victims was the stuff of legend. Being separated from the main factory
I never saw anything myself, but heard a reliable account from a colleague
who was doing some work in one of the factory offices of a young man, I
believe a summer temp. on leave from college, who had offended the women
in some way, being tearfully paraded round the factory wearing a baby-doll
nightie, and heavily made up in the company's complete range of cosmetics!
With this group of tough and sexually-aggressive women around there was
no doubt which was the dominant sex in that plant.
'He soon realised what was about to happen to him, and I will never forget the look of real fear on his face as the girls flounced the mass of frillies in front of him and told him that he was to be our little girl for the evening'. He is then forced to put on a frilly pair of bloomers, and then come the highlight of the story to me, his petticoating: 'Clive was in tears by this time, as Susan told him that he was to be put into petticoats and a party dress as his punishment. The girl who had produced the petticoats had gone for very full can-can type, and she laughingly flounced each separate tier and skirt in front of him, making sure each petticoat, he was to wear two, was fully flounced, making sure that his party dress would be properly 'skirted' over them, ensuring maximum fullness for the dress, and maximum shame to Clive! The first petti was pulled up over his panties, and adjusted for length, the second one had to be passed over his head and again adjusted. The two petticoats gave a tremendous fullness, but had been deliberately made just short enough to leave the frilly legs of his bloomers on show.
I guessed he must have had at least eight three-tiered skirts in his petticoats, which were made of stiffened paper nylon material that rustled delightfully as he walked! Two ribbons were then pinned to the waist bands and passed over his shoulders to prevent the heavy petticoats from slipping down and spoiling the look. As we stepped back to admire this fantastic creation Clive was a broken man- tear streaming down his face as he bowed his head into his chest, all fight gone from him - I realised then we could do whatever we liked from now on, this was the end of Clive's rule!'
I'll bet it was! The letter
goes on to describe in superb detail, his party frock, and elaborate pinnie,
how he was paraded round the factory, and his eventual change into overall
and turban to help the cleaners, before being thrown out into the street
to make his own way home thus attired! This must surely be the finest
way possible for any group of women to turn the tables on a 'Jack the Lad',
and I would love to hear from any readers with similar experiences. Did
it work? I can do no better than refer back to the end of the letter:
'Poor Clive never lived
down being turned into pretty, frilly Shirley ( the name the girls called
him). Not a day passed without him being
asked if he wanted his dress on again, or being told to be careful his
petticoats weren't showing! His enforced
dressing in such ultra-frilly clothing had totally crushed him, along with
our imaginative humiliations,
and he would never be a nuisance to women again. He was in no doubt that
if he ever stepped out of line again
he would get more of the same and we often showed him his party outfit
hanging in the locker room just as a reminder!'
What a superb letter to start off the August collection. I don't know how this technique would go at petticoated.com: Tom and the rest of the lads who operate the presses wouldn't be very practically dressed for the job in baby doll nighties and frilly frocks. They are an easy going lot, and the only trouble I usually have them is the lunchtime games of eucre and cribbage: these tend to keep them past the requisite 30 minutes.
My appearance around the
door of the works canteen followed by a couple of sharp hand claps normally
produces a bit of uncomfortable boot shuffling, unless somebody is playing
a particularly strong hand, in which case a glare from Miss Gribble behind
the counter is enough to inform me that her boys will be back at work in
a few minutes, and in the meantime the presses can bloody well wait.
P.S One more point: you
refer to your 'collection of petticoating classics'. Lesley, you could
help this magazine and its readers a great deal. Could you please scan
those letters, or photocopy them, and post them to my new address? 'Petticoat
classics' are what 'Petticoat Discipline Monthly' is all about. I would
love to see what you have.