“You, girl: Strip.”

Evellyn now turns to look over her shoulder at Isabelle, who stands at a hesitant distance, her eyes wide as she witnesses her mistress's downfall. “You, girl: Strip,” Evellyn growls menacingly. Isabelle, caught in a mix of fear and awe, hesitates. After being transfixed for a moment, her hands shoot down almost involuntarily to undo the buttons of her dress.

She peels away the layers of her servant's garb, her movements quick but shaky. Her undergarments follow, delicate fabric slipping over her skin. Evellyn watches with a critical eye, then signals for her to stop, as she’s rendered down to naught but her white stockings. “That’s enough,” Evellyn orders crisply, extending her hand. “The clothes, now.”

Isabelle, her small buxom form shivering slightly, hands over her garments, even as her breath is caught in her throat at Evellyn’s assertive dominance and her cheeks burn increasingly crimson. She wraps her arms around herself, covering what modesty remains, her gaze dropping to the leaf-strewn ground.

Evellyn dons the stolen attire swiftly, feeling the coarse fabric against her skin—not her style, but far better than au naturel. Approaching Charlene’s horse, she grabs the reins: “I’m borrowing this,” she declares to the still-gagged Charlene, who impotently struggles amidst the twigs and leaves. “You’ll get it back later.” Her eyes flick back to Isabelle who stands exposed and increasingly flustered: “Oh, and I’ll return your clothes too,” Evellyn adds, a faint smirk playing on her lips as she notes Isabelle’s flushed face and tightly clasped arms, attempting to shield her pudgy breasts and perked nipples from prowling eyes. “Now, turn around, close your eyes and count to 100 before you open them again.” Isabelle nods, her trembling voice starting the count, “One... two... three…”

Evellyn gives a soft little kick with the top of her boot against Charlene’s upturned butt as a final mark of victory. She leads the horse by the reigns and can’t help herself but deliver a playful smack against one of Isabelle’s asscheeks as she passes by her, interrupting the count with a surprised gasp. Evellyn mounts the horse and kicks it into a steady gallop, leaving behind a triumphant scene. As the sounds of hoofbeats fade, a naked Isabelle remains behind, the counting mingling with Charlene’s muffled orders to untie her.