Story: Departing from Milan. Part 5.

by Monica Graz

I was pushing my huge cleaning cart emptying the waste baskets and getting ready to visit the three toilet complexes that I was responsible for. It was about 11.30 am, peak time for Malpensa airport and people were wheezing around me without paying any attention to the cleaner. 

I stopped briefly and looked at the passport queue. The EU citizens were moving very fast, their passports barely checked. The non EU citizens’ queue was at a standstill, passports thoroughly checked, visas required.

A faint smile appeared at the edge of my lips as I remembered myself arriving in Milan some months ago as Julia a UK citizen looking at the exhausted migrant cleaner pushing her cart.

Now I was this exhausted migrant cleaner. I looked at the plasticized card that I had to wear around my neck. ‘Molegunda Apuya – airport cleaner’ it said and the photo attached was my Filipino passport photo the one in which I was dressed in a maid’s uniform. Today I had to start my shift at 6.00 am and I was going to finish at 1.00pm, seven continuous hours of hard manual labor except for a fifteen minutes break at 10.00 am for a coffee and sandwich courtesy of the airport catering services.

Story: Departing from Milan. Part 4.

by Monica Graz

“Molly, go and change this instant, Miss Connolly will be here in about half an hour and you still have to set the table,” Conchita said to me as I was helping her with the preparations of the meal basically cleaning after her. She was the cook and I was her skivvy for sometime now.

It was past midday and I already felt tired and dirty. I was as usually up at 6.30am and I was solidly working except for a break at 9.30 to share a quick cup of coffee and a small snack with Conchita in the kitchen.

“Make sure to wear a clean uniform dress without stains and use the nice white half apron with the frill all around it. Also have a white band around your hair. Miss Connolly has to see what a nice Filipina maid you became.”   

“Yes Ma’am,” I answered to her realizing as I said it that by this stage I fully meant it. Conchita became somehow my immediate boss, the one to whom I was referring all the time, the one who was telling me what to do in the house on a daily basis. Signora and signorina Bonifacio were above that, they wouldn’t tell the ‘help’ what to do; they had the senior maid for that.

Caption: Permanent Disguise

When war broke out in Europe Lady Elizabeth Grosvenor - and her dutiful maid Julia - were caught vacationing in the Swiss Alps. Going back home seemed almost impossible, but when news came that Elizabeth's father died, leaving his only daughter all of his wealth, she had to act. Crossing the border with Italy illegally seemed like a good idea, but the plan spectacularly backfired after Elizabeth - dressed as a peasant girl - was arrested by the Carabinieri. Julia, with all of her mistress's gowns and jewels, managed to escape capture...

Story: The Demise of Lady Charlotte Rhodes

By Jackie J; edited and expanded by Robyna Choleton (re-published October, 6 2016)

How could Lady Charlotte have known the consequences of that casual subtle touch on her breasts that morning by her maid Miss Jacobs?

Lady Charlotte Rhodes, recently widowed, could have resisted her base instincts and passed off what she now knows to have been a devious plan by Miss Jacobs, for what it first appeared, just an innocent accidental touch as she adjusted the bed linen prior to serving Lady Charlotte her morning tea.

Aroused by her maid’s delicate touch, stroking her fingers across Charlotte’s firming nipple Miss Jacob’s scheme was in motion, and having heard the soft sigh from Charlotte’s lips and seeing the wanting look in her eyes, it was now just a matter of time.

Miss Jacobs always had affections for Henry, Charlotte’s late husband, which were frequently returned before he married Charlotte.  With Henry now departed, following an accident in Kenya, which left the estate to his widow, Miss Jacobs’ dreams of one day making Henry and his wealth her own, were over.

Charlotte was not a bad Mistress of the house and she had no problem retaining Miss Jacobs when she married Henry.  She just had no idea of the history between Miss Jacobs, or Jenny as she was known to Henry, and her new husband.

Story: Departing from Milan. Part 3.

by Monica Graz

“Molegunda Apuya, Molly for short, this is your new identity, girl,” Signorina Bonifacio said as she handed me my new Filipino passport.

I picked it eagerly, slightly curtseying as it was automatic for me now and I started opening it. Of course I instantly looked at the photo. I more or less knew what to expect but what I saw was even beyond that.

A young dark woman with Asian characteristics looked back at me; the skin was Indian dark, the eyes moderately slanted and the hair jet black, straight and long, kept in the back with a simple elastic band. Signora and Signorina Bonifacio wanted my hair to be short and easy to maintain for a domestic, but Conchita convinced them otherwise saying that as a Filipina I should be a devout Catholic and the Catholic Church was discouraging women to have short hair.

I could see the white collar of my blue uniform dress and the frilly edge of my white apron bib. I was obliged to wear a maid’s uniform when the photo was taken. Even in my passport photo I couldn’t escape what I became so rapidly in the past few months.

Story: Departing from Milan. Part 2.

by Monica Graz

I was standing in front of Signora, head slightly bowed, hands crossed in front of my apron. As usual, I was all messy after a whole morning of scrubbing and cleaning, but Signora couldn’t care less. I was there to serve her and strictly follow orders regardless of how demeaning they could be.

- How are you doing with your Filipino education, Molly? - she asked rather casually. - Is your Tagalog improving? Conchita believes that you are an eager pupil though you have so much Western influence in you that becoming an Asian girl requires probably more drastic steps.

I looked at her timidly, not knowing once more how to answer to that, not to mention that my poor Italian was a constant obstacle to fully expressing myself.

Story: Departing from Milan. Part 1.

by Monica Graz

PART 1

I was dressed in a quite simple manner when Conchita took me out to meet her Filipino friends that warm Sunday afternoon. It has been the first time I wasn’t wearing my maid’s uniform since I arrived in Signora’s house two months ago; the first day I had the chance to go out as a ‘normal person’.

Since I had no other clothes except my maid’s uniforms, Conchita gave me an outfit to wear and I was dressed following her instructions. A pair of black cropped trousers, a pink polyester blouse of some sort of cheap glittery material, a pair of canvas shoes, a silver cross around my neck as my single piece of jewelry. I kept my jet black hair in a tight high ponytail and I had very little makeup on simply to emphasize my more oriental looking eyes.

Story: Arriving in Milan. Part 8.

by Monica Graz (Parts 1 and 2 are written by Lady Charlotte, Parts 3 and 4, 5 and 6 and Part 7 are by Monica Graz)

It was mid morning three weeks later and once more I was mopping the floor, this never ending repetitive job of a maidservant. I was as usually in a disheveled form, wearing my cheap light blue chlorine stained poly cotton dress, my equally stained apron and my rough-looking clogs. I still wasn’t allowed to use rubber gloves and my permanently red hands started developing small calluses. They were the hands of a manual domestic laborer by now.

I stopped once more in front of the hallway mirror and looked at myself. I still couldn’t believe how different I looked. A completely transformed person looked back at me; a Filipino maid looked back at me! I was a transformed person because under Signora’s strict instructions I had a complete makeover. Her idea of turning me into a proper servant in all aspects was to make me resemble a South East Asian woman and completely separate me from my white European origins. My longish hair was dyed raven black, my eyes got a more oriental look with some sort of permanent makeup and my skin became several shades darker with the use of a special solution that wears out very slowly, something like a permanent tan.

In the mean time I was not allowed to speak English any more. I had to communicate with anyone I came in contact with in my poor Italian. As Signora said I needed a limited vocabulary to perform my duties as a servant, there was no need for me to participate in elaborate intellectual conversations. Though I tried to improve my Italian by studying it hard every night, being deprived from my native language was quite a blow. I did start feeling more like an immigrant domestic worker in an alien environment.

Story: Arriving in Milan. Part 7.

by Monica Graz (Parts 1 and 2 are written by Lady Charlotte, Parts 3 and 4, 5 and 6 are by Monica Graz)


I hurriedly turned back to my cleaning job, wiping the window glass with a special soft tissue to eliminate all marks when I heard Signora’s authoritative voice, “Molly, come here at once, Signorina Connolly has some questions for you.”

“Subito Signora,” I answered with a slightly raised voice as I started descending from my short ladder. I wiped my wet hands to my already badly stained apron and tried to straighten up my uniform dress but I knew I looked quite disheveled after all those hours of constant manual work.

I quickly approached the two ladies sitting comfortably in the plush armchairs and I curtseyed as expected, saying in my pigeon Italian, “Prego Signora.”

“You are allowed to speak in English with Miss Connolly and answer her questions truthfully and to the point girl,” Signora said in her haughty manner.

Story: Arriving in Milan. Parts 5 and 6.

PART 5
by Monica Graz (Parts 1 and 2 are written by Lady Charlotte, Parts 3 and 4 are by Monica Graz)

I was very conscious of my appearance as I was wondering around, a permanent smile glued to my face, a tray in my hand, offering to the guests champagne and the
delicious little canapés prepared by Conchita.

For the first time in my life I was so publicly exposed as a maid in front of so many people. I was fully aware of my black uniform dress my little white apron and my tiny white cap pinned on my hair. I had very little make up on, just a touch of lipstick and some mascara. Signora was adamant about that; a maid shouldn’t look like a tart. The cotton white gloves cleverly were hiding my rough working hands.

They were all sorts of people there, from bankers to young but prominent artists, ‘la crème de la crème’ of Milanese society as Signora mentioned to us in the kitchen, without a trace of modesty in her voice. As I was wondering around I noticed that she was watching me like a hawk for a possible ‘faux pas’.

Story: When Lightening Strikes: A Model Maid

Thanks to T.H.Enerdly I was able to recover this 1998 story from a now defunct website. I believe this is the first lady-to-maid transformation story that I've read. It was later turned into a comic (with a somewhat changed storyline) - I posted it here -  but this original story is what got me interested in the topic initially.


When Lightening Strikes: A Model Maid
By: ROBO


Cindy Crawford sat down the paper unread on her lap. She heard her Chinese immigrant maid Mimi come in with the groceries. The girl had been with her for 3 months and her English had improved somewhat, but she was still hard to understand with her heavy Chinese accent.

She called, "Mimi!"

The tiny woman came in and bowed "Yes, Miss Crawford."

"Would you bring me a Pepsi please, a diet Pepsi of course I have to watch my figure."

Story: Arriving in Milan. Parts 3 and 4.

Monica Graz has picked up the story of Julia, a young and educated English girl who willingly becomes a maid to a demanding Italian mistress, where the author of the original, Lady Charlotte, left it. Here are the next two chapters. 

PART 3 by Monica Graz (Parts 1 and 2 are written by Lady Charlotte)

As I resumed my scrubbing the floor Signora came back and said rather condescendingly, “And Molly make sure you change to a clean uniform dress before you go shopping,  you look too dirty and disheveled at the moment. I want my maids to be presentable to the outside world.”

“Si Signora,” I answered dutifully not knowing enough Italian to say that I had no clean uniform dress left,  my other two day dresses and several aprons were even dirtier and I was planning to do a serious laundry after the end of my working hours.

Story: Interview With Madame Nguyen

By Hanna A____, freelance journalist
Translated and embellished by T. H. Enerdly

Translator’s Note

This story, in the form of an interview, was inspired by a file, written in French in the first decade of the 21st century, found in a now moribund Yahoo Group, and probably authored by someone who styles herself as “Hanna, femme de chambre.” My translation is quite free and has been “embellished” to give the story more of a Mistress-to-maid flavor.

Introduction

My name is Hanna A____, I’m a freelance journalist, and I’m planning on writing a story about Madame Nguyen, a book editor who has a hobby of training professional women as actual maids, of letting these women experience the reality of their fantasies, of giving them a taste of humiliation, as I found out to my intense embarrassment. She’s currently training a 43 year-old woman, a former executive secretary, as a maidservant. After a long telephone conversation, during which the 32 year-old Mme. Nguyen asked me so many questions that I felt as if I were being interviewed instead of her, she granted me an interview with her at her duplex in the XIII arrondissement of Paris.

In case it’s not clear to the reader, I must point out that Mme. Nguyen is a Mistress in the BDSM sense of the word.

During the interview, we discussed her complex approach to training a maid. She emphasized that she was only speaking for herself and not for other Mistresses. Nevertheless, her methods are quite instructive. She likes to recruit professional women who have a secret desire to experience servitude and offers them the opportunity to moonlight as maids while still living their “civilian” lives, or so it seems at first.

Mme. Nguyen lives near the Place d’Italie, on the Avenue de Choisy, in one of those hidden places in the Capital, at the back of a courtyard that leads to a former workshop that has been converted into a duplex. The location is quiet, but full of life, a place where the few remaining artisans sometimes cross paths with Rembrandt wannabes.

At her residence, Mme. Nguyen greeted me in traditional Chinese dress, the cheongsam. The interview took place on the first floor of her duplex in the living room, a large open space with simple furniture, lending a “Zen” feel to the room.

The transcript of my interview with Mme. Nguyen appears in the next section.

Claudia Schiffer and Her Maid

Claudia Schiffer is a strict and demanding mistress to her maid in this 1993 Il Marchese Coccapani ad campaign by Helmuth Newton.

In Grand House: Vogue Korea September 2010

More Korean fashion magazines with maids and mistresses.

Story: Borrowed Gown 2. The New Life.

By Eric
(continuing a Story by Eryka.)

Colleen a beautiful young white woman smiled happily into the mirror.

"Y'all looks beautiful, Miz Colleen," said her devoted and admiring maid.

Colleen smiled with more than a hint of hidden meaning. It still amused her to hear her ignorant maid address her as 'Miz Colleen' and with such a servile attitude and also to be waited on hand and foot by the young black woman who was putting the finishing touches to HER beautiful blond hair. Life had sure improved in the last six weeks! Her smiled widened. And nobody knew or guessed at the turnabout. Not Kevin, not her colleagues at the firm, or 'her' family.

"Thank you, Chantel, I truly hope that Kevin thinks so, too!" she said in her lovely, soft elegant voice.

Colleen flashed her expensive diamond and emerald engagement ring. Her hands were soft and smooth and elegant. A sharp contrast to Chantel's rough and worked hardened hands.

Story: The Borrowed Gown

by Eryka Lynn

Colleen and Kevin had been friends since they were four years old. Colleen always wanted what was best for Kevin. She also always hoped that Kevin would someday look at her as more than just a friend; she wanted to be his girl. She also was very rich – her parents had left her with a small fortune.

Colleen had a very large condominium overlooking a lake, a beautiful car,
expensive clothes and jewelry – everything except her man. The condominium was
large enough that she even had a room for a part-time live-in maid named
Chantel. Chantel was a pretty African American girl who was very friendly and
had a personality very much like Colleen's. She came from the Deep South and
never even graduated from grade school. She could barely write and her English
was extremely bad. She came from a very poor family, which limited both her
wardrobe and her social activities. But she had plans to change that soon – and
Colleen and Kevin’s lives would never be the same.

Eyes Wide Shut: Vogue Korea August 2011

You can always count on Asian fashion magazines when it comes to stylish maid photos. While not as  tantalizing as Vogue Japan's Maid for Diamonds, this Korean offering is nothing short of exceptional.

Ellen Von Unwerth's Revenge

I came across this 2003 book by erotic and fashion photographer Ellen Von Unwerth thanks to a tip from The Nerdly. Here is the preface:

Although Mme. Vidor survived the cable-car crash that devastated the family dynasty, her husband, his ex, her brother and his wife did not. As a consequence of ther own trio of Françoise, Charlotte, and Isabelle, her household now includes Emily, Marie-Louise, and Ivy from her husband's previous marriage, and her brother's two daughters, Mimi and Sarah.

Weakened by shock, Mme. Vidor finds herself unable to exercise the parental discipline now lacking in the girls' lives. She reluctantly lets the care of her unruly charges slip into the hands of her stepsister, the Baroness, a woman the girls hardly know and about whom diabolical rumours abound.

The Baroness, for her part, is eager to take charge of the girls. Her long-held dislike of her stepsister sharpens her desire to discipline and control the new arrivals. Indeed, she would hardly have agreed to the arrangement had she not had an appalling ulterior motive. Her late husband's debts, guaranteed against the estate, have meant severe cuts in staff, and she feels sure her stepsister could not object to the girls--how shall it be put--'earning their keep.'

The girls' vivid recollections of their aunt's splendid masqued balls--though they had been too young to attend them--influence their packing. Casting off woollens and sensible shoes they fill their trunks to overflowing with taffeta gowns, stiletto heels, garter belts, stockings and lace....

This BDSM story is told through a series of black and white photographs and features several maids. It's not really a lady-to-maid story per se, but it comes pretty close. Here are some photos, you can find the rest here:

 

 

Story: Becoming Her Maid

by Jackpot

Where do I begin? I had interviewed five women but none of them seemed to fit the job properly. It was three weeks and no one came by or called about the job. I really needed someone to cook and clean the house badly. Once a husband is gone you really begin to appreciate all that he did for you, especially being financially secure. He used to do a lot of stuff for me and after five years of his absence I decided to hire a maid. I was glancing at my ad again and thinking,

“This time if someone comes I am not going to be so picky about everything.” I placed the paper down, and went to take a shower. Despite my age you can say that I am still quite attractive. I have black hair and hazel-green eyes. I wear lots of silky blouses and skirts. I have a huge assortment of styles and colors. I was continuing to wash myself when the phone rang. I thought it could be someone answering the ad so I rushed to get to the phone.

Caption: Going Down the Social Ladder

-- What yer lookin' at? Nothin' to see 'ere, this ain't no circus!

Talking like an unrefined working class woman was now second nature to former Lady Margaret - now simply Maggie.  Although she has accepted her new station in life - that of a household servant at the beck and call of her betters - she still hated it when she was forced to scrub the entrance stairway - especially when the neighborhood boys were playing outside, throwing dirt and little rocks at her, as if she was solely there for their entertainment.

Story: Neighbor and Maid

NEIGHBOR AND MAID

Author: Dodge

1.

Laura and Millie were neighbors and friends, and they had gotten into the habit of having coffee at her house on weekday mornings. Usually Laura was wearing just her old work clothes and Millie was often still in her robe.

One morning as Laura poured the coffee, Millie joked, "I'd like to have you as my maid and have you serve coffee to me every morning."

At the time Laura didn't place much emphasis on it as she was somewhat preoccupied. Laura and husband Rob had received an invitation to a costume party, but she couldn't decide what she wanted to wear. Guests were asked to come costumed and act 'in character' as part of the party theme.

The next day, Laura was asking Millie for suggestions about costumes. She looked over a coffee cup at her and said, "I think you should go dressed in one of those sexy naughty French maid outfits. You certainly have the figure for it. I even know of a store where we can get one from."

Story: Like Mother, Like Daughter

LIKE MOTHER, LIKE DAUGHTER

An epistolary tale by The Nerdly,  based on three vignettes in French by Hanna, femme de chambre

Dear Hanna,

You asked in your last letter how I came to be Gabrielle's  full-time maid. I hope this will answer your question.

Gabrielle and I were roommates at college, where we played D/s  games together. We especially liked to play the game of mistress and maid. Gabrielle was always the mistress, and I, always the  maid. Since we were impoverished college students, my maid's uniform was blue jeans with a white tee shirt, and Gabrielle's mistress clothing was the same.

As you know, Gabrielle moved to Strasbourg after college to take a position with the École Nationale d'Administration, the ENA. I accepted a junior management position with a firm in Paris. Having  so enjoyed the D/s games we had played in college, we agreed to continue them after graduation. To play the game, I travelled to  Strasbourg on the weekends to serve as Gabrielle's maid. She  expected me to wear a proper maid's uniform and carry a serving tray, and also to act as a chambermaid and iron her clothes -- in other words, to serve as her maid of all work. We played this game for two years. There were occasional aggravations, but I didn't mind. I was always able to juggle my two lives so that I  met the high expectations of both Gabrielle and my boss at my "real" job.

Story: The Real Story of Cinderella

The Real Story of Cinderella

by Lady Charlotte

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess called Ella. In fact, she was the most beautiful princess in the whole world, and one day, a handsome prince came riding by, and fell head over heels in love with her, and proposed to her on the spot. And Princess Ella accepted. This was because the handsome prince was not only handsome, but also very rich and powerful, and Ella was a total snob.

Once she had married the handsome prince, she became even snobbier. In fact, it was not long before she was the haughtiest, rudest, most arrogant member of the royal family that the poor servants in the palace had ever had to deal with. Ella was UNSPEAKABLY horrid! But the people that Ella was beastliest of all to were not the maids or the footmen, but her own step-mother and step-sisters. They had come to live with her in the palace when Ella had got married, and now they were having the most horrible time. It broke the step-mother's heart, for she found herself quite helpless. Both she and her daughters were very humble and sweet, and naturally would never have dared answer the imperious Ella back.

One day, the handsome Prince, Ella's husband, decided to throw a ball. This was to be a very important occasion, for all the other Princes from around the world were being invited. The handsome Prince hoped to be voted Prince of the Year, a title which was due to be awarded that very night, and the ball was designed to wipe the floor with the opposition. Because Ella was so beautiful and haughty, he hoped that having her on his arm would help him to clinch the title. Naturally, Ella hoped so too.

Story: Arriving in Milan

ARRIVING IN MILAN
By Lady Charlotte
Part 1

At the airport, standing in the passport queue, I see a cleaning woman. She is in marked contrast to the beautifully dressed travelers, surrounded by their expensive luggage, waiting to catch their flights to exotic destinations round the world. The cleaning woman looks weary. She wears a drab, ugly, blue uniform dress. Dusters hang from her pockets. She pushes a trolley loaded with buckets, detergents and mops. The effort causes her to sweat. The uniform clings to her body. A name tag identifies her. I am too far away to read it. I guess that it will not be the name of an Italian, for the cleaner looks foreign. Her skin is dark brown, except for her hands, which are red. Her knees too, I guess, beneath her skirt, must be red. She looks as though she has spent long hours on them, scrubbing floors. What would it be like, I wonder, to be such a woman, so drab amidst such style? I glance at the passport queue, ahead and behind me. Full of tourists, business people, Italian and English. For the Italians, fashion is a religion, and for the English a heresy, but everyone, all the same, is marked by the clothes that they wear. Everyone looks rich. Everyone except for the cleaner. I look back at her. She is gone. I feel a tightness in my stomach, a golden touch of shame. I show my passport. The officer waves me through.

Caption: Who's The Maid Now?

Victoria was born with a silver spoon in her mouth.  An heiress to the $400 million fortune that her aristocratic parents left her, she never had to work and was surrounded day and night by people willing to do anything she wanted. Life was good.  But it also lacked excitement for the 20-year old beauty, who saw her pampered existence as extremely boring. Now,  if only she could experience a different life, where everyone wouldn't just see her as a spoiled rich girl with nothing to show for herself other than her millions...

Louis Vuitton Models in Traditional Maid Uniforms

Since luxury fashion brands are associated with high-society living it makes all the sense in the world for them to use maids in their advertising campaigns. Nobody does it better than Louis Vuitton, that dresses its models in traditional French maid dresses for its store openings and fashion shows.