Sunday, December 10, 2017

Story: The Secret Slave. Part 6.

by SW


Later, Sophia assisted at dinner and, though very nervous, her task was made somewhat easier because Miss Jane had instructed her to attend her Missa at table.  Unlike Mistress Caroline, Elizabeth, perhaps by design - Sophia could not know for certain - gave her serving maid clear signals for instruction; she tapped her wine glass with knife or spoon when its contents had nearly emptied and she pushed her unfinished plate away slightly when she had reached sufficiency of the main course - so that Sophia knew to step forward to replace with the trifle.  But Sophia marveled at how Ruby seemed to know Mistress Caroline's requirements by some mysterious intuition or instinct.  


Sophia's bottom was still quite painful after her beating and it took great effort, as she had been warned by the housekeeper, to maintain a 'pleasin' face fo' the mistisses' - her mood was sullen and resentful after her punishment and a remark by Elizabeth to her cousin 'how pretty the center-piece flowers look' did not improve her humor.  She had come, in her short time at Cypress Hill, to despise Mistress Caroline and she considered the woman nothing but a twisted termagant.  In her thoughts she conceded that Caroline may be wealthy and physically appealing, but, even had they met as equals at a society occasion she would have shunned the woman's company - Elizabeth's cousin or not!  

However, she was annoyed with her friend too, for there were unmistakable signs that Elizabeth was enjoying the charade a little too much.  Admittedly, she had to keep up appearances for that hell-cat cousin but did she really have to whip?  Sophia resolved to confront Elizabeth when she could; surely, in the aftermath of the beating Elizabeth would willingly allow her to talk freely?   Regardless, she would have her say; the beating, and Elizabeth's participation, would not be brushed aside and forgotten.  All of these concerns agitated her mind while she stood rigid and held her 'pleasing face', but behind the mask she quietly seethed.

Friday, December 8, 2017

Story: Executive Stress. Part 2.

by Charles Ryder
A week after her humiliating meeting with her husband, Abigail was stood at attention in front of Mrs Pugh’s large, imposing desk. Her new employer was reading a report. This was her weekly assessment carried out by her immediate superior, Mrs Jackson. As if the whole situation wasn’t demeaning enough she had to be subject to an assessment from an elderly yokel. Mrs Pugh looked at her over her spectacles.
“This really isn’t very good is it Munroe? Lazy, rude, work-shy, these are just some of the words that refer to you. What do you have to say?”
Abigail knew what she’d like to say but she just couldn’t summon the nerve. Lydia Pugh tended to have that effect on her; she was so cold and intimidating.
“Er...I’m sorry Mrs Pugh, I’m trying really I am but I’m not used to this sort of work.”
“Well, I think it’s high time you got used to this sort of work, because it looks like this sort of work is the only sort of work that you’ll be carrying out for the foreseeable future. Here, read this.”
She reached over and passed a copy of the local newspaper. Abigail only had to read the headline for her blood to run cold,
‘Police On The Lookout For Missing Businesswoman.’ Her eyes scanned down and quickly read the copy. ‘Officers are still on the lookout for Mrs Abigail Pugh. Mrs Pugh, a local businesswoman allegedly involved with the Bellman case, has not been seen for three weeks. Foul play has been ruled out but the fraud unit are interested in speaking with Mrs Pugh whom they believe is connected to the alleged fraud carried out at her former workplace.’ To make matters worse there was a photo of her with a champagne flute in her hand and laughing at something.

Wednesday, December 6, 2017

Story: The Secret Slave. Part 5.

by SW


Caroline Cranstone stepped quickly across the drawing room, opened the door and shouted “Slave!” and moved back to her chair.  An uncomfortable silence prevailed until a moment later Rosa appeared at the open door and Mistress Caroline ordered:


“Rosa, go to my chamber and bring one of my crops here, we have need of one.”


Seeing Sophia positioned for a whipping at the fireplace, Rosa quickly nodded and curtseyed and immediately set off on her errand.  The wait for her return seemed interminable to Sophia and to add to her anguish her arms and legs were beginning to hurt from the unnatural pose she had been forced to take.  Looking down at the fire grate she was unable to see either of the mistresses behind her but she was fully aware that they were provided with a very good view of her bottom and she supposed that they might very well be taking advantage of it.

Monday, December 4, 2017

Story: Executive Stress. Part 1.

by Charles Ryder


When Abigail Pugh examined herself appreciatively in her hallway mirror on that fateful Friday, little did she know it would be one of the last times she did so. The day had started much as any other day. Breakfast prepared and served by her devoted husband, Andy. Then she'd showered and changed. She'd chosen the Jaeger suit, the dark one. One of her favourites, she'd teamed that with some black stockings and red heels to match her Vuitton handbag. She'd taken the Porsche rather than get Andy to drop her at the station. Well, why not? The company paid for it after all, why not take advantage of it? It wasn't as if Bellman and Co were short of money or anything. A lot of that money was, she reflected, earned by her and her team. Idly she wondered what her commission would be this year. Something vast she assumed, like last year and the year before that. She allowed herself a little smile, life was certainly good.


A few miles down the road the car beeped at her. She glanced down at the dash, more petrol needed. A mile or so later she pulled into a garage and filled up. She gave the plebeian looking girl behind the counter her debit card and put in her PIN. Turning around to admire the Porsche she was only dimly aware of the girl speaking to her.


"Excuse me madam, you're card's been refused."


It took Abigail a little time to process the news. Oh really! There were several thousands of pounds in her current account.

Saturday, December 2, 2017

Story: The Secret Slave. Part 4.



by SW
Sophia was given some rice and beans to eat and left alone in the kitchen but, not long after she had finished the unfamiliar and rather coarse repast, the house maids Ruby and Rosa, who had helped the two mistresses to change, stepped to the kitchen to collect their trays and deliver the soup course which Jane was then dishing up.  Jane told Sophia to go with them to their work but she said that she had received orders from Mistress Caroline that Sophia was not serve on her first evening there; she was to watch the girls and learn the manners and routines of dinner at the house.  


Sophia followed the slaves and took position in a corner of the room where she stood in proper pose and hoped that Mistress Caroline would ignore her - she had no relish for another one-sided confrontation.  She observed how the girls served and instantly retreated to their places on light feet - each standing by the wall and behind each lady.  Both maids wore blank expressions and looked ahead but they had to be discreetly vigilant, Sophia noticed how Mistress Caroline didn't instruct service with a spoken command; it seemed that the girls had been trained to read the merest glance, slightest movement of hand, or indeed, inclination of their mistress's head, to know what was required and they attended at once and in silence.  

Thursday, November 30, 2017

Story: The Secret Slave. Part 3.

by SW
The carriage door had hardly closed behind Sophia when the two young ladies broke into giggles and laughter and after wiping away tears of mirth from her cheeks Elizabeth said, “Sophia my dear, what a display.  You were simply wonderful!” and mimicking Sophia's slave voice she continued, “'I wonder if Mistiss F'licity would let me say goodbye to her gals Mistiss,'  What an actress you are, you would be on the stage if it were a respectable profession.”


Sophia laughed again and almost admitted to her friend that she had genuinely wanted to say goodbye to the Morgan slaves but she checked herself and smiled in return.  She reasoned that it might be circumspect to preserve some of her thoughts and feelings regarding the adventure.  On their way to the railroad station Elizabeth stopped the carriage and took a short stroll.  Wisely, she had hired a closed landau and Sophia pulled the blinds and changed from the maid's uniform into a fine silk dress that Elizabeth had brought for her in a valise.  When Elizabeth returned and the carriage resumed Sophia felt much more like the aristocratic and cultivated young lady that she truly was.  


The drive to the railroad station took little more than a few minutes and the expression of bewilderment upon the driver's countenance when Sophia alighted from the landau caused more mirth; he had collected a mistress and maid and yet it was two elegant ladies who got out for their train.  The railway carriage being busy with passengers, there was little opportunity there for Sophia to discuss her experience and when, at last, they arrived at Elizabeth's home Sophia's excitement had subdued sufficiently that when she did begin to talk it was more a measured account than it might otherwise have been.

Tuesday, November 28, 2017

Story: Mrs. Catherine Lucas. Chapter 16.

by Jackie J
Lying in her bed, in the solitude of her room, Cathy stared at her new uniform hung on the closet door reflecting on her situation. When wearing the abaya and niqab she could move anonymously wherever she wished, couldn’t she? The charade of being a maid really no longer was relevant, was it? She could just stay back in her own home. Pauline could continue to cover for her at the social events and if she needed to leave her home, why she could just don the Islamic dress no one would be the wiser.
Cathy smiled to herself, she would discuss her plan with Pauline in the morning, her days of scrubbing and serving would be over, wouldn’t they? Pauline would understand, wouldn’t she?
The following morning, with her idea that had crystallised the night before fresh in her mind, Cathy slipped into her uniform and with spring in her step entered the kitchen to prepare breakfast.
With everything prepared and laid out on the dining room table Pauline entered and smiled watching her maid pulling back a chair for her to sit.
“Thank you, Cathy.”

Saturday, November 25, 2017

Another perfect lady-to-maid opportunity missed!


I have to admit that Downton Abbey, despite its focus on the whole upstairs-downstairs theme in an early 20th century setting, has largely passed by me. However, as a compulsive collector of maid images for years I could not help but discover quite a number of screen grabs from that show - they are literally ubiquitous! What I did not realise (but strongly suspected given the subject matter) was that one of the episodes in Season 4 had one of the ladies dressing up as a maid to fool a non-suspecting commoner who finds her attractive. Fans of the show please prove me wrong, but as far as I can tell it did not really go anywhere plot-wise in later episodes despite the classic "lady-to-maid" set up... This small subplot was uploaded to youtube in two short clips and I am happy to share it with you even though it's quite light on lady-to-maid content (but I am sure we can easily invent the rest!).






Thursday, November 23, 2017

Story: The Secret Slave. Part 2.

by SW


The rest of the evening passed largely uneventfully, if slowly, for Sophia, though it was not without its little humiliations.  Back in the parlor she carried herself with the manners and courtesies expected of her and, though no incident of note occurred, she, of course, found having to curtsey, smile and wait upon the men to be degrading and wearisome and her back and legs ached with the labor.  In addition to almost constant to-ing and fro-ing to serve there were further tribulations for the slave girls, though Sophia, as she was not accustomed to them, felt them most keenly.  

Remarks were freely passed to Morgan about 'what fine wenches you have here,' and the gentlemen, their tongues - liberated with the effects of alcohol - would speak of their figures and features and stare at the girls without inhibition - especially so, when they had to move close to serve.  And too, an inebriated hand would, from time to time, find its way onto a girl's hip, buttock or, bosom.  Sophia avoided Johnstone as best she could but once, when he snapped his fingers in the direction of where she stood by the fireplace and called 'whiskey gal', she caught his eye and saw how he regarded her still with a lascivious yet steely gaze.  Then, when she crossed the room and bent to serve he gave her bottom a little rub and slap and humiliated her further; saying with a leering smile:  “You're being a good girl aren't you Sophie?” to which she was obliged to respond with a curtsey, a smile of gratitude and, “Thank you for saying so Mister Johnstone, suh.”  

At those short intervals when she stood to attention by the fireplace Sophia had time to reflect on how differently gentlemen behaved and spoke when permitted to reveal their true nature away from the company of wives and ladies.  She thought, how indeed, her strange experiment in servitude was yielding interesting results and not just from what she was learning about house slaves and their work.  She resolved to write down an account of her experiences when she returned home; a document, she thought, that would have to be kept under lock and key, and secreted in her closet - safely away from any prying eyes.

Tuesday, November 21, 2017

Story: Mrs. Catherine Lucas. Chapter 15.

by Jackie J
Tuesday morning, breakfast served, consumed and the laundry in the washer, Cathy was summoned into her Mistress's study. Hands held clasped across her apron, head slightly bowed, a pose of respect demanded by her Mistress and now unquestioningly adopted by her maid, Cathy awaited her mistress’s instructions.
Pauline pointed to a chair on the opposite side to where she herself was sat.
“Sit, girl.“
Cathy moved slowly to the chair, she had been disciplined earlier and her bottom was still tender.   Lowering herself into the chair her gaze remained lowered and she let out a soft sigh when she sat.
Pauline smirked.
“Your own fault Cathy the bacon was overcooked. Let that be a lesson, you know my rules and you know the punishment.”
Cathy murmured her response.
“Yes, Miss.”

Saturday, November 18, 2017

Story: The Secret Slave



by SW


Sophia Solano reclined at a small garden table and relaxed in the warmth of the late May sunshine.  Just nineteen years of age and the only child of a wealthy planter she was taking one of her frequent visits to her dear friend Elizabeth Deveraux who had been married at seventeen but bereaved less than a year later when her husband had perished in a steamboat explosion in the fall of 1844.   

Three years had passed since the tragedy and though the young widow mourned the loss of her husband she now very much enjoyed the financial independence and relative freedoms that her position in society permitted.   They chattered happily in the privacy of the elegant town-house garden and sipped cool drinks served by a pretty young mulatto maid.  Sophia watched the slave girl as she refilled their glasses and carried her tray back to the house.  

She asked her friend.  "Do you ever wonder what it would be like to be a slave?"  

Surprised by the question Elizabeth replied "No, why, do you?"  

Thursday, November 16, 2017

Story: Mrs. Catherine Lucas. Chapter 14.

by Jackie J
Having returned from her palatial residence or what was her home, Cathy, having reconciled that her home was now to be the guest room in her neighbour’s house; Cathy placed her maid’s uniforms in the closet, underwear in the drawers and then entered the kitchen to prepare lunch for her Mistress.
A light lunch served a sullen Cathy sat in the kitchen, the contrasting images of Catherine Lucas and maid Cathy etched in her mind. Cathy’s thoughts drifted to Jackie her maid and how this had all started. It was a bit of fun, then the sex, the accident, the spankings, being drawn deeper into the persona of a maid and now willingly having accepted to be taken from the comfort and safety of her home to be the housemaid of her neighbour.
Jacqueline had gone, deserted her, Miss Crabtree was her Mistress now, a mistress that had already disciplined her, the sting of the strap still lingering across her behind. Cathy giggled to herself, why she was amused by her thoughts was strange but she did. Cathy thought of the website Ladies to maids, how she had read were ladies were slowly denigrated, stripped of their trappings of wealth, subjugated and placed into and accepting a life of servitude becoming the maid of their maid.

Tuesday, November 14, 2017

Story: Mrs. Catherine Lucas. Chapter 13.

by Jackie J
It was around eight in the evening behind the closed blinds of room 1260 of a lavish five star hotel in Singapore that a phone burst into life. A finely manicured hand reached over the bed and a sweet little thing giggled. Pulling back the sheets Yi Ying held up the phone above the gagged and blindfolded face of a struggling Michael Lucas.
Michael could not have picked a worst time to be indulging his fantasy. Bewigged, his face expertly made up ,dressed in expensive lingerie and a pretty pink dress and bound hand and foot, gagged and blindfolded he squirmed and moaned Yi Ying’s other hand caressing his sissy manhood through his silky panties.
Yi Ying giggled.
“O, phone call for you. Mister Michael, no answer now, too busy, you my girl, you busy girl.”
Yi Ying pressed the reject call button and tossed the phone across the room.

Sunday, November 12, 2017

Story: Mrs. Catherine Lucas. Chapter 12.

by Jackie J
Following the evening’s events it was a tired Cathy that was shown to a small guest room at the back of Pauline’s house.
“There we are, Cathy. Not very salubrious but for a maid more than adequate, I think. Now get some sleep and we can discuss your duties in the morning.”
Pauline wiped some dust from the door panel.
“Perhaps we can start here? Good night.”
Pauline having closed the door to Cathy’s room wandered the short distance down the landing to the sound proofed play room and entered.

Friday, November 10, 2017

Story: Mrs. Catherine Lucas. Chapter 11.

by Jackie J
The unanswered ringing of Pauline’s bell to summon her maid brought a smirking Pauline into the kitchen. Jacqueline sat slumped on her stool, still staring at the crumpled piece of paper thrust into her hand by Camille. Cathy was busy at the sink and smiled at Pauline.
“Did your meal go well, Pauline? Did your guests like the food I prepared?”
Pauline smiled back at her neighbour Catherine Lucas, who, dressed in her frumpy maid’s uniform, was seeking recognition and praise for her efforts in the kitchen, and rested her hand on Jacqueline’s shoulder.
“The meal was delightful and served so well by your assistant, Jackie.”
Jacqueline turned and looked up at Pauline, her eyes without their usual sparkle. No words were necessary. Both knew the situation and Jacqueline had no option but to accept it.
Pauline took Jacqueline’s hand and raised her from the stool, turning to Cathy.

Wednesday, November 8, 2017

Story: Mrs. Catherine Lucas. Chapter 10.

by Jackie J
Jacqueline Frobisher was not a maid, she never was. Camille, at the request of Pauline, had carried out some checks on Jacqueline and discovered that she was head of legal services at Dawson & Laing, the same company that Michael, Catherine Lucas’s husband, was a director. To allow time to complete her scheme with Catherine, she had taken a six-month sabbatical from Dawson and Laing purportedly to teach orphans in South America.
Checks on her finances revealed that for many years Jacqueline had been living beyond her means but had in recent weeks settled her debts and received significant funds into her accounts. Working for the Lucases Jacqueline had managed to successfully bluff her way through her domestic duties and, with Michael always there to cover for her, Catherine had never suspected anything was amiss. Tonight things would be different. Not only was she dressed like a wet dream for either sex, she would be expected to diligently perform the duties of a housemaid under the watchful gaze of Pauline and who knows who else!
With the doorbell chiming Jacqueline wiggled her way to the door and opened it for the first two guests.

Sunday, November 5, 2017

Story: New Employee. Chapters 28-29.

 by BigBird74

28.

Everything felt different. Being ‘found out’ and confronted by the manageress was akin to crossing the Rubicon in my mind. She knew who I was, the rich heiress, destined for fame and fortune – albeit shared with my sister. Despite that she had not flinched one inch, not shown me any real deference. I shivered. Other than my family, this was the first person to so totally ignore my privileged status and family name, Webb, instead opting to treat me like Marta Fernandez. It seemed that she was opening the door on my sleazy game and entering the room. Would she take control of it, change the rules? She had not yet hinted at revealing my secret, though that threat was very real and dangerous. But. Yet. Her smile had given me confidence that this may all yet work out so well.

That smile. It had set forth the usual wave of butterflies in my stomach, only this time they were morphing into something even stronger and more pleasurable, their pulsing wings sending shocks of raw pleasure to my upper thighs and loins. Three times today I had found it necessary to sneak off to what now seemed my only sanctuary, the toilet cubicle. Mindful of how I had been caught out before, this time I remained silent as I pressed my way to heavenly bliss.

Linda had been her usual mixture of vulnerable and aggressive. Vulnerable to compliments, even those little more than bare-faced lies masquerading as a compliment. And aggressive, to the one maid in this hotel that she felt some undeserved sense of superiority towards. I dwelt upon that sense of entitlement for a moment and saw parallels with the way I expected my name and money to purchase a certain prestige and degree of respect. I remembered the encounters I had had with people of different ethnic backgrounds before, usually maids, cooks or staff. Naturally, each had treated me well and it was what I expected. But was this because of their position relative to mine, or did race have any part to play?

Wednesday, November 1, 2017

Masters/Servants Photo Shoot


A few months back I posted a collection of photos of South Asian ladies and their maids. Now lets move across the globe to Russia. I came across this interesting photo shoot done by a young Moscow-based artist Lilia Li-Mi-Yan. Like her colleague in Bangladesh, as part of a project she's photographed together masters and their servants. Needless to say, a lot of these photos strike a cord even though most are not as visibly awkward as the South Asian ones. As very aptly noted on the photographer's page:



What is the spectator’s position — does he / she want to identify himself / herself with a master, or he / she perceives a servant as the protagonist, or, perhaps, he / she sees the dominance of commodities and collecting over human relationships? The ambivalence of the photographic manner chosen by the author leaves these questions unsolved.








Monday, October 30, 2017

Story: Mrs. Catherine Lucas. Chapter 9.

by Jackie J
With Pauline’s invite to dinner on her mind, Jacqueline was quite distracted at the charity event she was attending that afternoon.  Jacqueline had already told the organisers that she would not be able to stay for the auction and it was already approaching five and she had been told to have Cathy at Pauline’s for six.
Having left a promissory note for two thousand dollars Jacqueline made her way to the parking lot and nervously awaited the valet to bring her car, repeatedly looking at the Rolex of Catherine’s she now wore.
Speeding her way back home Jacqueline raced up the driveway screeching to a halt and hurrying inside.
If Jacqueline had an anxious afternoon Catherine was a nervous wreck. She would have to venture outside, walk the hundred yards or so from her driveway to the entrance to her neighbour’s home. Not strutting in her heels and designer dress with her head held high and blonde locks flowing in the breeze. No she would be scurrying in heavy low heels, swathed in her bulky shapeless maid’s dress, an apron tied around her waist, her head low, a maid’s cap upon her low-rent brown bob wig.

Saturday, October 28, 2017

Elle Mistress-And-Maid Photo Shoot From The 1980s

This one has been sitting on my hard drive for many years. I believe it is from Elle magazine in the early-to-mid 1980s, but I was unable to locate the exact issue so if anyone knows please let me know. I only have five photos from probably bigger the set. The uniforms are quite unusual, but I still think it's worth adding to my collection if only to make it complete.





Thursday, October 26, 2017

Story: New Employee. Chapters 26-27.

By BigBird74

26.

Trapped! That was the one word that kept revolving around the inside of my head. Trapped! Despite the new dynamic rocking my world, the manageress’ office had felt like something of a sanctuary, a curious feeling given what had just happened. The last ten minutes had seemed like a blur and, as I stepped gingerly along the corridor towards the staff lifts, I tried to review the events in my head. I listed what I did know: she knew I was Katherine Webb; she knew I had made up the identity I was now inhabiting. But, then, what else could she know for sure? Oddly enough, despite what I had considered my meticulous planning, I had not really thought long about being caught, the consequences of which had just seemed too awful to bear.

As per usual, my overactive imagination seized on several potentially dire outcomes. I could end up in jail, for fraud! I would be ruined in the press! My family might disown me! I would lose my inheritance! Would the manageress blackmail me? My mind flitted from one possibility to the next, driving my anxieties to a level I had not previously experienced. I felt like I might keel over.

Pausing in the corridor to steady myself against the wall, I tried to clear the clutter from my mind. I was trapped yes, but only because of one person. It must be possible to find a way to contain this. In front of me was the staff elevator. I reached out and pressed the button summoning the lift. Again my hands were shaking. I found myself waiting again. That thought “it must be possible to contain this” had opened a dark room inside my head. I peered inside: could I somehow kill her? Dispose of the problem that way? I shuddered and closed my eyes. I knew that most killings are caused through desperation and, for a moment, the thought lingered. Bing! The lift arrived and felt sick as I stepped inside and sent the elevator up to the fifth floor.

Tuesday, October 24, 2017

Story: Mrs. Catherine Lucas. Chapter 8.

by Jackie J
With Cathy dismissed to the kitchen by a smirking Jacqueline, Pauline and Camille did not linger long at the table. Pauline had seen what she wanted to see having witnessed the uncomfortable truth of her neighbour, Catherine Lucas, happy to accept the role of a maid within her own home.
Jacqueline, Pauline and Camille retired to the lounge whilst Cathy cleaned and tided away the debris in the kitchen.
Sat on the comfortable sofa, Pauline pulled a phone from her purse and played back the recording of Catherine Lucas confirming her role as a maid.
“Well, Jackie, that was pretty convincing. Or should I call you Jacqueline now?”
Jacqueline smiled and poured drinks.

Sunday, October 22, 2017

Caption: Summer Rental.


Translated by T. H. Enerdly

This is a caption I found years ago on a now defunct French Yahoo Group. I referred to it in the comments section of the recent Olivia Holt posting and thought that at least some readers might like seeing it. It helps to know that in France, everyone with the means takes their vacation in August.

T. H. Enerdly

***

Hermine knows the house, the one in which she serves as a maid, like the back of her hand. After all, it's hers.

During summer vacation season, she lists it with a rental agency, the rental fee including the wages of a live-in maid. With the tacit consent of the rental agency, Hermine plays the role of the maid, thus putting her at the service of the renters. In this way, she could be certain that she was no the longer the mistress of the house but the one who wore the uniform of a maid.

Unexpectedly, her most recent renters asked her if she wanted to leave her “dump” for Paris.

“It's so difficult to find good help!”

Will Hermine’s summertime lark become permanent? Will become the servant of a couple of musicians and their 16-year-old daughter? Will she quit her job as a pharmacist to become a maid? And if she does, what will she say to her coworkers? And what will she say to her maid when the latter returns from her vacation?



Friday, October 20, 2017

Story: Mrs. Catherine Lucas. Chapter 7.

by Jackie J
With Pauline, the next door neighbour, invited to have dinner Cathy busied herself in the kitchen. Catherine Lucas had entertained Pauline many times previously but this evening it would be very different. She would not be joining Pauline at the table, maid Cathy would be serving dinner and waiting on table for her maid, her Mistress and her guest Miss Crabtree.
Whilst Cathy was occupied in the kitchen Jacqueline was at the computer. With access to the Lucas accounts she wasted no time in draining these accounts and swelling her own. Jacqueline had already transferred significant amounts and with the last of the savings bonds now siphoned off and squirreled away Catherine Lucas, although she was oblivious, was truly broke. The cancelling of direct debits and standing orders, in the main to Catherine Lucas’s stylist, salon, tennis and country club and the Spa would bear testament to the lies that Jacqueline had been spreading about Catherine Lucas’s financial situation.

Wednesday, October 18, 2017

Story: New Employee. Chapters 24-25.

by BigBird74

24.

Waiting can be tortuous at any time, but at a moment like this it was truly agonising. Okay, I had never liked waiting for anything. My privileged status in life meant that I was usually able to buy my way past queues. This, in turn, had bred a sense of exceptionalism into me: I did not wait for anything. So to find myself here waiting like a naughty schoolgirl for the headmistress felt so wrong. What was also wrong was the way that I grew more and more aroused as people passed by and knew I was in trouble. I felt about an inch tall as they passed by and smirked at the underdressed maid.

I was now regretting the order Katherine had put in for these wretched uniforms. They did very little to cover me and I felt exposed, my darkened skin so clearly visible underneath the cut of the dress. Tugging down on the hem provided no relief and only served to pull the dress further down my cleavage. This left just one option: to cower in the corridor like a shrinking violet, slightly bent over to help mitigate my exposure to those passing by. More time ticked by and then I remembered something that shook me to my very core. My phone! Oh god, I had left it in the changing room in amongst my other uniform! Abandoning my wait, I set off back towards the maid room, hurrying along the corridor.

“Where do you think you are going?” I turned to see the manageress glowering at me. “I said wait by my office, which is that way!” She pointed back along the passage to where I had just come from.

“Sorree. I remember I no have phone with me. I want to get it from my room”

The manageress looked impatient and smug in equal measure. She held up a plastic carrier bag.
“I think you will find what you are looking for in here.” I took a few steps towards her and raised my arm to take it from her. In those halting movements, our eyes again met. Mine searching for clues as to what she knew, trying to divine her purpose in all this. Hers a classic lesson in drawing a poker face. She held all the cards at that moment, whether or not she appreciated this.

She released the bag into my hand and I took it. As I did, I saw my arm shake, a tremor of fear and angst rippling throughout my body. She remained totally silent as I peered into the bag and saw my old uniform, but no phone. I rifled through the bag. It had to be here. That phone was my portal back to my old world!

Monday, October 16, 2017

Story: Mrs. Catherine Lucas. Chapter 6.

by Jackie J
Whilst ingratiating herself within Catherine’s circle of friends during the week Jacqueline had not been idle in the continuing subjugation of her Mistress.
Unknown to Catherine Jacqueline added a measured amount of caustamonia to the basic foundation she had been using resulting in further irritation aggravating the already tender skin of her face. This, at the suggestion of her duplicitous maid, resulted in the use of no makeup at all.  With Catherine’s hair becoming increasingly brittle, from the permanent damage caused by the ovens, the insidious formula having worked into the follicles of her scalp, Catherine welcomed the gift of a neat black bob wig to cover her balding tuft covered pate.  
Fucked into raptures by Jacqueline’s introduced strap on her sexual and eventual total capitulation to her maid’s will and wishes lay unopposed. Each night she begged for more of her maid’s contrived affections for which she willingly paid the price of her continuing servitude.  The rota of tasks and chores, for keeping the mansion in pristine condition that had been prepared by Catherine herself, which Jackie the maid had so diligently followed, became established under the sole stewardship of the household’s Maid adorned Mistress.
For one particular screaming orgasm Jacqueline was given access to the Lucas bank account for another the combination and keys to the safe.  Jacqueline took every opportunity during the week to chastise and denigrate her maid for her lack of domestic skill constantly chipping away at her already fragile confidence making Catherine nervous and unsure and constantly on edge in her presence. Jacqueline confusingly blowing hot and cold, cold during the daylight hours reinforcing the demarcation of Mistress and maid, hot in the evenings treating her maid like a sex toy, in what was her mistress’s own bed.
It was Friday and there were no social commitments in the diary. Cathy was busy with the laundry when Jacqueline entered the doorway to the utility room.  

Saturday, October 14, 2017

Story: Mrs. Catherine Lucas. Chapter 5.

(re-posted to remove a few extra paragraphs from the next chapter that somehow got attached to this one. Apologies. Next chapter will come soon.) by Jackie J
With Catherine resigned to her role of a maid it was just after eight when her ladyship entered the dining room resplendent in one of Catherine’s finest outfits tastefully accessorised with Catherine’s jewellery.
“Well, Cathy, what do you think? Will I pass at the charity event?”
Catherine had to accept that Jacqueline would be representing her and would have to look her best and wearing Catherine’s designer clothes she of course did.
“Yes, Miss. Perfect, Miss.”
After being served breakfast by her former Mistress Jacqueline summoned her maid into the dining room.
“Cathy, this event.. Mrs Andrea Glendale, she is running the charity, isn’t she? And the address is 243 Wiltshire, correct?”

Thursday, October 12, 2017

Story: Mrs. Catherine Lucas. Chapter 4.

by Jackie J
Catherine sobbing, a soaked towel around her head and still dressed in her maid’s regalia, was driven to the medical centre and rushed through to the emergency room.
Jackie whispering in the ear of Catherine that she would try and cover things up and to say nothing
Jackie did all the explaining, they were maids cleaning when the accident happened Cathy was new to the job and made a mistake. Jackie giving her Mistress's name to be Cathy Frobisher, which was of course accepted.
It was just after four when they left the centre Catherine’s face was reddened and puffy with her hair having been trimmed the best they could to remove the caustic damage.
It was a sombre evening Catherine had been told to use only basic cosmetics for six weeks and that her hair would need to grow out in her natural colour, definitely no peroxide.