Strip her naked.

The traitorous corset, its laces removed, droops off her torso and tumbles to the floor like leaves. A split second later her skirt flops from her waist to the ground, like a puppet whose strings were cut. A simple matter of unfastening a few buttons. The wench's mouth is open to give you a piece of her mind. She's caught mid-sentence, reduced to inarticulate stammering, as her clothing collapses around her and her whole body is overcome by a sudden sense of absolute exposure.

She can think of nothing to say but "Eeeeek!" Then she looks down. Her panties have fallen down around her ankles. Her thighs are bare and her pretty pussy, thatched with ginger curls, is on display.

She turns a very, very bright shade of red and sinks to her knees, consumed with frustration and shame. She doesn't know what's going on, but you can tell she absolutely hates it. You take a moment to whisk her panties off and smile as you watch her squirm, shying away from your gaze like it was a cold shower. "Damn you," she mutters through gritted teeth. "How dare you enjoy this?"