by Jackie J
It was just after seven thirty and hearing the large bell at the door Rosemary straightened her lacy cap on her short neat bob, smoothed her apron, shook out the hem of her dress and walked to the main entrance of Malangton Hall. Opening the door Miss Stephenson stood looking radiant.
Rosemary instinctively dropped curtsy.
Miss Stephenson looked Rosemary up and down and, acknowledging Rosemary with a smile, stepped into the sparkling hallway.
“Mrs Worthington, how nice to meet with you again, or are you now more comfortable with your maid’s name, ROSE?”
Rosemary dropped another curtsy.
“Yes Miss, Rose Miss.”
Miss Stephenson leaned forward and wiped a small spec from Rosemary’s shoulder then stood back and smiled
“I see the uniforms are a perfect fit and your hair, very nice, perfect in fact, I am sure you have found that style much more practical for maid’s work?”
“So where is your Mistress, Rose?”
Easing her wrap from her shoulders Miss Stephenson stood in expectancy of guidance to Miss Nightingale.
Rosemary carefully hung the fur wrap on the stand then walked Miss Stephenson to the parlour and following a curtsy introduced her.
“Miss Stephenson, your guest Mistress.”
Miss Nightingale was quickly to her feet to greet her boss then both turned to Rosemary who was standing a little awkwardly in the doorway to the parlour.
Miss Nightingale beckoned Rosemary forward.
“Come Rose let Miss Stephenson have a good look at you.”
Miss Stephenson smiled with satisfaction at Miss Nightingale's work, Mrs Worthington the owner and Mistress of Malangton Hall stood meek and attentive in her Stephenson’s maid’s regalia.
Miss Stephenson walked around Rosemary laying her fingers gently to her shorn hair.
“So Rose your training is going well I see, Miss Nightingale is teaching you much about the relationship between a Mistress and her maid, no doubt she will be giving me a full report.”
Miss Stephenson walked to the sofa and gracefully took her seat.
Miss Nightingale smiled at Rose with a sly wink making Rosemary discretely squirm and blush.
“We await dinner, Rose. Off you go.”
Rosemary dropped a curtsy.
With Rosemary out of the room, Miss Stephenson and Miss Nightingale chuckled together, Miss Stephenson eager to know the progress with her soon to be new maid.
Miss Nightingale handed Miss Stephenson the file she had been keeping on Mrs Worthington and sat back into one of the large leather chairs leaving Miss Stephenson to scan the text.
Satisfied with what she had read Miss Stephenson smiled closed the file and looked around the parlour and chuckled.
“Well you certainly have honed her cleaning skills, when we start filling the place with guests, like we are doing at Westbury Manor, we will have no complaints about the cleanliness with such a competent maid at their service.”
Miss Stephenson smiled at Miss Nightingale.
“And have you, you know?”
Miss Nightingale smirked.
“Yes just now before you arrived, she loved it, she is ours now, don’t worry by the end of next week I will have that tongue of hers trained to perfection. Perhaps on your next visit you can use her yourself?”
Miss Nightingale put her finger to her mouth hearing the rustle of Rosemary’s uniform in the hallway.
Rosemary entered and dropped a curtsy.
“Mistress, dinner is ready to be served.”
Using all the acquired skills, gained from serving meals through the previous week to her Mistress, Rosemary provided an exemplary service for the dinner.
Having cleared the dinner table Rosemary was asked to join Miss Stephenson in the study. Miss Stephenson was sat at the desk with a file opened when Rosemary entered and curtsied.
Miss Stephenson looked up and smiled, knowing that holding Mrs Worthington in the fictitious supervisory maid training program would need some extra inducement to keep her compliant through the next phase of her subjugation.
“Rose, I am so pleased, Miss Nightingale has given glowing reports, so much so she believes that at the end of your training, if your standards are maintained, she will be able to recommend you for a full Stephenson’s maid diploma. The supervisory training is one thing but to actually be a certified Stephenson’s maid, well you will have put us all to shame. It would be exceptional of course but a goal that Miss Nightingale is willing to help you achieve.”
Miss Stephenson looked questioningly at Rose.
“Is that something that you would want Rose to become a certified Stephenson’s Maid?”
Rose squirmed a little, somewhat embarrassed by the flattery. She had worked like a slave for her Mistress and yes she did deserve something special, something extra and a Stephenson’s maid diploma sounded quite special, exceptional Miss Stephenson had implied.
Rosemary smiled to herself and looked at Miss Stephenson feeling quite proud of her achievements thus far not suspecting the consequences of agreeing to now train to become a certified Stephenson’s maid.
“Well, if Miss Nightingale feels that I could do that then yes a diploma would be nice for my efforts.”
Miss Stephenson smiled and offered Rosemary a document from the file.
“Very well, Rose, this is the diploma application form just sign at the bottom.”
Rosemary, not even reading the text, why should she it was an application for her diploma wasn’t it, took the pen offered by Miss Stephenson and scrawled her signature at the base of the document.
Miss Stephenson picked the document from the desk and returned it to the file.
“Now why don’t you serve sherry in the parlour to your Mistress and me?”
Rosemary dropped curtsy
Whilst Miss Nightingale and Miss Stephenson in their fine gowns relaxed in the opulence of the parlour sipping sherry Rosemary washed the debris from the meal she had prepared and served. Pots, pans, crockery and cutlery washed and dried all placed neatly back in the cupboards and drawers.
With the kitchen spotless Rosemary eased herself down into a chair and her mind wandered and reflected on her liaison with her Mistress. She had tasted forbidden Sapphic fruit, relished the scent and tender, dominant touch of another woman, she had given herself, squealed like a whore as over and over she was brought to climax.
With those thoughts consuming her and with Miss Stephenson and Miss Nightingale occupied in the parlour, Rosemary quietly made her way to her quarters. The door closed she laid back on her bunk and with her skirts raised and bloomers to her knees she was at herself. Her face flushed her fingers battered her masturbation, her imaginings filled with her fantasies of her Mistress once again taking her, controlling her, using her, a helpless maid at the hands of her mistress.
The tinkle of her Mistress's bell shook Rosemary back to her reality and she hastily adjusted her uniform and with reddened cheeks made her way up to the parlour.
Inside the parlour Rosemary, still flushed from her exertions and a little breathless, curtsied.
Miss Nightingale viewed Rose with some amusement suspecting from the tell tale signs what she had been doing to herself.
“Miss Stephenson is leaving now, could you show her to the door Rose.”
Having helped Miss Stephenson into her wrap then opening the main door Rosemary curtsied.
“Good night, Miss”
Miss Stephenson turned to Rosemary smiled and was gone into the night to her awaiting carriage.
Rosemary closed the door, drew the bolts and turned back into the hallway. Miss Nightingale was stood in the hallway by the parlour door and smiled holding the document Rosemary had signed whilst with Miss Stephenson.
“So you have agreed to my suggestion to become a certified Stephenson’s maid Rose, quite a departure from the original remit?” I wasn’t sure that it would be something you would wish to do but Miss Stephenson told me that you were quite enthusiastic about the prospect?”
Miss Nightingale approached Rosemary and Rosemary curtsied.
Miss Nightingale cut Rosemary short a frown growing on her face.
“So tell me, would a Stephenson’s maid play with herself whilst her Mistress entertained her guest?”
Rosemary blushed not only at being confronted over her masturbation but more than that the thoughts that had filled her senses whilst she played with herself.
Miss Nightingale pointed inside the study.
Rosemary entered and stood by the desk Miss Nightingale following her taking her seat.
“A maid masturbating whilst on duty is forbidden. This ia a complete taboo, you should know that.”
Miss Nightingale reached for her blue bag containing the appliances of encouragement and opened the straps.
“There can be only one punishment for this.”
Miss Nightingale withdrew the chastity belt from the bag and placed it on the desk.
Rosemary stared at the device then at Miss Nightingale then back at the harness a shiver of weakness running through her. Was Miss Nightingale intending to have her restricted into chastity? Was she going to allow herself to be locked into this device? The thoughts of being shackled by her Mistress was starting to make Rosemary wet. What was she thinking; surely she couldn’t let this happen to her?
Miss Nightingale smirked looking at Rosemary watching her eyes tighten surveying the tool of subjugation.
“For such a blatant indiscretion a maid will wear the chastity belt to shield her sex from her roaming fingers. Her Mistress will release her maid at a time and for her pleasure and only at these times until the maid is taught self discipline.”
“The wearing of this badge of shame serving to be a constant reminder to the maid of who owns her and what becomes of a maid who puts self gratification above her Mistress's needs.”
Rosemary was trembling not out of fear or trepidation but with expectancy her mind returning to how Miss Nightingale, her Mistress had used her in her bed. Now her words, to be released from the belt only for her Mistress's pleasure, the belt to remind her who owns her?
Miss Nightingale held out the harness towards Rosemary and spoke in a soft yet commanding tone
“Accept your punishment girl, remove your bloomers and adorn yourself in your mistress’s belt.”
A strange submissive aura engulfed Rosemary at the prospect of allowing herself to be held in chastity for her Mistresses pleasure. The same weakness that overcame her when she puckered her lips at the bath tub to be taken to the heights of ecstasy by this dominant woman, this woman, her Mistress.
Rosemary looked at Miss Nightingale she knew she shouldn’t, she knew she mustn’t but she was the maid, Miss Nightingale was the Mistress, the maid must be punished for what she had done. Miss Nightingale had explained why and how. Whether it was reflecting on how her Mistress had used her in what was her own bed, the very feelings she craved well she played with herself, or just the commanding tone and manner of her Mistress ordering her to remove her bloomers but she could not stop herself.
Miss Nightingale watched Rosemary lift her skirts and untie her bloomers which dropped around her ankles then stepping from them.
Rosemary stepped tentatively into the stout leather straps; wrapped the waist belt around her then, gathering the fastenings and tugging a comfortable but restrictive tightness about her, she gasped closing the fastenings.
Miss Nightingale stood from the desk and after checking the tightness of the belt produced a pretty heart shaped lock, its appearance belying its strength and snapped it closed sealing Rosemary into chastity.
“I did not think that the actual application of any of these items of encouragement would have been necessary during your supervisory training. But now you are to train for your diploma, you must be treated more as a maid would be and the full range of appliance will be at my disposal to assist you in achieving your status of a certified Stephenson’s maid.”
“You accept this don’t you, Rose?”
Rosemary pulled up her bloomers and let her skirts drape back to her ankles. What had she done? She had placed herself into chastity? Nothing forced she had willingly done this to herself? What was she thinking?
Perhaps she wasn’t thinking, how could she have been? Miss Nightingale could hardly conceal her delight when, constrained into her chastity belt, Rosemary looked rather wistfully at her and meekly spoke her response.
That night in her bunk Rosemary squirmed and pressed at the belt in erotic frustration the thoughts of being held in chastity for the pleasure of her Mistress having her sloppy to the point of distress.
Following the duties on the roster, during the ensuing week, each respectful curtsy to her Mistress pressed the convex bulb cup of the belt to her and just like Miss Nightingale said it would it served as a constant reminder of who owned her and what had become of her for putting self gratification above her Mistress’s needs.
Rosemary now working the full Roster, under the ever demanding supervision of Miss Nightingale, the ritual of dressing, undressing and bathing of her Mistress became the norm. Every room of Malangton Hall kept pristine by the established routines of the hard worked maid.
Most nights, after accepting her Mistresses belt that held her in teasing sexual frustration during the day, Rosemary was released by her Mistress from the confines of her chastity and rewarded by tutelage in the ways of lesbian sex. Just like Miss Nightingale had promised Miss Stephenson, by the end of the week, Rosemary’s tongue was that of an accomplished Lesbian sub enthusiastically licking within the soft pink folds of her Mistress.
During that week, having accepted to train to become a certified Stephenson’s maid, over and above her maid supervisory training, the emphasis changed from how a mistress must supervise her maid to only how a maid must serve her Mistress, and be supervised.
Given that Rosemary must now only occupy herself fully in the role of housemaid, if she was to receive her diploma, it seemed natural that Miss Nightingale should remove all distractions from her.
Rosemary, accepting of this subtle but significant step, agreed and relinquished all her responsibilities including all fiscal matters for Malangton Hall, which would now be handled by Miss Nightingale. A signed letter written by the naive Rosemary at the insistence of Miss Nightingale, confirmed this arrangement placing herself under the complete control of her Mistress, Miss Nightingale.
It was weekend again and following a session of unbridled sex, a special treat for Rosemary having agreed to hand over the running of Malangton Hall to Miss Nightingale, under the pretence of helping her achieve the status of a certified Stephenson maid, Rosemary was like putty in her Mistress’s hands.
In the soft, warm comfort of what was Rosemary’s bed, in the afterglow of their sex, Miss Nightingale rolled Rosemary onto her back and smiled down on her, her fingertips teasing and touching at Rosemary’s unshackled pussy.
“I think you enjoy being under your Mistresses control don’t you Rose, especially now having unburdened yourself of all responsibility, all your needs taken care of, only having one purpose, one focus, to please your Mistress.”
Rosemary moaned and gently squirmed enthralled by her Mistresses expert sensitive touch.
Miss Nightingale continued in her soft seductive tone.
“Tell me Rose what a good maid you want to be for your mistress how you relish her discipline, want her discipline, need her discipline, that you are beginning to feel like a Stephenson’s maid.”
Rosemary had found herself being treated in the bed chamber and the house by Miss Nightingale, her mistress, no different to how her husband had treated her before his untimely death. Rosemary’s husband had been a disciplinarian handling all matters at Malangton Hall and being very demanding of his wife. Rosemary had never relished the responsibilities she had inherited and deep down had missed his authoritarian regime. Rosemary looked up to her mistress it was true she was feeling more and more like a maid, a Stephenson’s maid. She could not hide from herself or her mistress the submissive feelings that overcame her when she was chastised, each time she was locked back into chastity, how she felt when she signed the letter giving her mistress full control of Malangton Hall but more importantly herself.
A soft moan preceded her gasped reply feeling the delicate roll of a thumb over her engorged clitoris
“Yes Mistress, I want to be a good maid for my mistress, maid Rose needs your discipline, needs your control, Ohhh.”
Miss Nightingale smirked watching Rosemary’s eyes roll back in ecstasy pushing her fingers deep into her maid’s eager, wet, pouting slot.
The following week began as normal, if Mrs Worthington, the Mistress of Malangton Hall dressed in her maid’s uniform fawning over a Mistress of her own making, could be called normal. But in truth that is what it was, normal, Rosemary becoming increasingly accepting of her role of maid and Miss Nightingale becoming ever the more demanding Mistress.
Despite the restrictive nature of her bulbous cotton underwear, petticoats, heavy woollen dress, tight starched apron and the constant tugging and pressing of her chastity belt Rosemary still regained her ladylike poise, posture and gait about the hall. This was fine for a mistress under maid supervisor training but for the housemaid?
Miss Nightingale pointed out that this behaviour in a maid could be construed as being insolent, surly and threatening. A maid should not be so bold about the house of her Mistress. Rosemary was warned that if she really wanted her diploma she would have to change her bearing whilst at her duties.
Of course it was impossible, not only did Rosemary not fully understand what her mistress was asking, she stood how she stood, she walked how she walked, it was who she was. Never realising at the time that indeed that was, who she was, not who she will soon be! Rosemary needn’t have worried about attaining the desired posture required by her Mistress, Miss Nightingale already having that in hand
Whilst preparing breakfast Rosemary was surprised to see her Mistress entering the kitchen. Miss Nightingale, having taken to enjoying her breakfast in her chamber before being dressed by her maid.
Rosemary curtsied staring at the firm breasts of her Mistress held and presented beneath a fine silk blouse by one of Rosemary’s own beautifully embroidered supportive corsets. The same firm breasts her Mistress had her suckle on the previous night.
Miss Nightingale smiled has she often did at her pretty and increasingly submissive maid.
Rosemary’s eyes lowered to the fine decorative chain that her Mistress was holding recognising it to be the stooping chain. A length of fine chain in a Y shape with screwed claw clasps on the ends of the three terminations that she had seen displayed to her previously.
Miss Nightingale offered the fine golden chain towards her maid.
“For you Rose, to help you with your problem, it seems without my help you will continue to mock your position and I do want you to obtain your diploma, it would be a shame that you failed just for the arrogance of your posture and poise”
Rosemary stared at the device it was complicated, obviously restrictive, demeaning nothing that the Mistress of Malangton Hall would ever contemplate to be placed into! But Rosemary found her hand reaching to accept the “Gift” from her Mistress. It was to help her prove herself worthy of her diploma wasn’t it? Her mistress was trying to help her wasn’t she? But more than this Rosemary held a curiosity for the stooping chain that she had harboured since she first saw the device. How would it work, how would it make her feel, she had to know!
“Well I am not sure Mistress, will it hurt me?”
Miss Nightingale smiled.
“It will only hurt if you resist the help it is giving you Rose now let’s get you ready shall we the sooner we get this fitted the sooner you will feel it’s benefit.”
Miss Nightingale removed Rose’s apron and slowly unbuttoned the front of her dress pushing it off her shoulders letting it slide from her. The broad shoulder bands of Roses petticoat eased over her arms revealing her cheap shoulder strapped bodice corset. The bodice removed Rosemary sighed feeling her Mistress's hands cupping and fondling her breasts. The tapes of her bloomers unfastened they draped to the floor joining the rest of her clothing. Miss Nightingale inserted the key into the lock of Rosemary’s chastity belt and lowered the shield leaving Rosemary meek and naked before her mistress.
Needing little encouragement, from Miss Nightingale's moistened teasing fingers, Rosemary’s nipples hardened and the two nipple clamps of the chain were attached to each nipple in turn and the locking screws tightened making Rosemary squeal. The longer length of the chain dangled over Rosemary’s tummy and Miss Nightingale thumbed Rosemary’s clitoris to a glistening bud before snapping the third clasp to it and securing the locking screw in place.
Stooped to accommodate the fastening of the third clasp to her clitoris Rosemary moaned softly. Restrictive, not without a degree of pain, but perversely erotic Rosemary’s watering eyes looked up at her Mistress her nipples and clitoris already numbing. The relocking of her chastity belt made Rosemary wince and Miss Nightingale adjusted the chain to its required fit.
“There Rose now let me help you back into your uniform.”
Every movement that Rosemary made tugged at her nipples and clitoris and only when stooping was the pressure relieved. By the time that Miss Nightingale had helped her back into her uniform Rosemary had found the right posture to minimise her discomfort. Rosemary was not overtly crouched by the device but her stoop was noticeable and when asked to take her first steps Rosemary found her gait was also restricted.
Miss Nightingale watched Rosemary taking her first tentative steps and hid her smirk seeing the instant removal of Rosemary’s lofty poise.
“O’ yes Rose much better, much more like a maid all that surly arrogance of posture, which would be expected of a confident mistress of course, is gone, perfect. This will help you a great deal in getting your diploma and becoming a certified Stephenson’s maid.”
Miss Nightingale, already having Rosemary locked into a chastity belt, knew the further subjugating effect this added combination of the numbed pain and constant stimulation, inflicted by the device, would have on Rosemary and smiled stroking her fingers over Rosemary’s cheeks.
“Not too uncomfortable for you Rose?”
Rosemary blushed slightly it was uncomfortable, demeaning, but she was already feeling the tantalising effects of its stimulation.
Miss Nightingale dismissed Rosemary to the Kitchen asking for her breakfast to be served in the dining room.
Rosemary curtsied, feeling the restrictive chain tug, and took her leave.
The chains did their job restricting Rosemary’s gait and posture whilst she went about her duties. Miss Nightingale ensured she took every opportunity to compliment her maid on her more maid like movement around the hall. A few stumbles, going about her work keeping Malangton Hall pristine, but by the third day of being locked into the device, her muscle memory adapted. Short shuffling steps and a submissive stoop devoid of grace and poise, just how Miss Nightingale had planned.