Wednesday, November 16, 2016

Caption: A Much Better Mistress Than I Ever Was

Just a minute ago I was determined to finally tell her that the stupid game was up, that it had to come to an end once and for all. But here I was, standing in front of her, unable to utter a single word. I could see my impression in a vanity behind her - my black-and-white uniform, my apron, my lacy maid's cap, my pale, unattractive face - I was the exact opposite of the Goddess standing in front of me. How could I demand anything from her? I looked at her shapely semi-dressed body, her thick blonde hair, her picture-perfect face, her (or, rather, mine) expensive watch, her (or, rather, my mother's) golden medallion, hanging from her delicate neck.

She was born to be admired, she was born to give orders to mere mortals like myself. It was impossible to believe that until just a few months ago it was I, Lady Alice Neville, who was giving orders to this heavenly creature in front of me! That was until I offered to swap places with my maid, Catherine.

"Is something wrong, Nancy?" she said in her sweet voice with a distinct, if somewhat exaggerated, upper-class accent. Her lessons with the speech therapist were finally paying off. "You look like you've seen a ghost!"

In a way I had. A ghost of my own life that was no longer mine to live. A ghost of the life I couldn't even gather the courage to demand back!

"No, Miss, sorry, Miss,'' I answered, hating myself for being so weak, but also enjoying every second of this self-imposed downgrade, this prison with no walls that I've built for myself.

"Very well,'' Catherine said and turned her alabaster back to me, her soft golden locks just a few inches from my face. Suddenly, a thought crossed my mind like a flash of lightning: if she ordered me now to get on my knees and kiss her feet I'd do it that very instant. Then, of course, she didn't. She just stood there, selecting earrings to wear from an ornate jewelry box, my family heirloom.

"Oh, Nancy, you are still here," she finally said surprised, as if I could ever leave her side without first curtseying and excusing myself. "Since you are here anyway, can you be a dear and bring me the silver Louboutins. They are somewhere on the third shelf from the top in the shoe closet. They will look very nice with this skirt, don't you think? I just have to look my best tonight!"
How could I ever put an end to this? She was so much better at being a rich pampered lady. She was perfect. She was a much better mistress than I ever was.


  1. I really do LIKE these kinds of stories!!!

    Keep up the good work!

  2. Excellent caption. The self betrayal was especially good in this one.


    1. Thanks you so much. That entire photoshoot begged to be captioned.

  3. This is my favorite version of the fantasy, where the former high-status woman finds herself trapped, not by force or trickery or error, but by her own submissive needs. She _could_ escape, the only thing trapping her is her own mental prison. But she's no less trapped for that, and part of her is happy.

    1. Can't agree more. It's a strange version of happiness, but happiness nonetheless.