by Jackie J
It was Wednesday afternoon whilst cleaning and polishing in one of the reception rooms that Rosemary was to be taken deeper into her subjugation by her Mistress.
Already submissive to her Mistress's needs in the bed chamber Rosemary had been warned many times of the consequences a strictly supervised Stephenson’s maid would face should she falter in her tasks. Rosemary was found by Miss Nightingale scrubbing at a large ingrained piece of beeswax, she had inadvertently trodden into one of the rugs.
Miss Nightingale stood in the doorway her expression stern her tone authoritative the wooden spanking paddle in her hand.
“Well Rose what is this mess you have made, I have warned you several times what “encouragement” would be applied to a Stephenson’s maid have I not?”
Rosemary stared at the paddle saying nothing.
“You want to qualify to be a certified Stephenson’s maid, don’t you Rose?” To know how a maid is supervised correctly? I would be shirking from my duties, letting you, myself and Miss Stephenson down if I did not carry out my position of Mistress correctly. I have put this moment off too many times now and you must receive your punishment.”
Miss Nightingale pointed to the arm of one of the large leather chairs.
“Bend over that chair Rose.”
Rosemary’s mind was in torment she couldn’t allow herself to be spanked could she? Rosemary was so close now to completing her training, or so she thought, she had to be, she had been working in the role of housemaid at Malangton Hall, under Miss Nightingale’s supervision, for going on three weeks. She had carried out all the tasks set for her, learned how a maid must keep a residence pristine, she could not disobey now and risk all that she had done, she must have a Stephenson’s maid at Malangton Hall.
Miss Nightingale, her Mistress, was right Rosemary had done wrong and a maid would be punished, should be punished and slowly standing Rosemary shuffled to the chair. Rosemary looked meekly at her Mistress then bent herself over the arm of the chair her bottom raised and presented to her Mistress.
Miss Nightingale slowly peeled up Rosemary’s dress and petticoats onto her lower back before pulling down her bloomers to expose her ample milky white buttocks. Rosemary quivered in anticipation of the first strike.
Miss Nightingale was in no hurry letting the thoughts of what Rosemary was about to experience build in her maid’s mind then, Thwack, Thwack, Thwack, Thwack, Thwack, Thwack. Six strokes of the wooden paddle left Rosemary’s numbed bottom bearing crimson stripes from her spanking.
It was painful of course it was and tears flowed down Rosemary’s cheeks. Miss Nightingale said nothing and stood back leaving a somewhat distraught Rosemary sprawled over the arm of the chair softly whimpering.
Rosemary eventually stood and pulled up her bloomers and let her heavy skirts cascade about her ankles. Why was she allowing this to happen to her? Wearing her Mistresses chastity belt, stooped and restricted by the insidious teasing device that constantly stimulated her nipples and clitoris and now being spanked like a common maid. Worked hard each day and used like a sex toy at night by her dominant Mistress? What was she becoming, Rosemary of course knew the answer, she was becoming a Stephenson’s maid.
She had agreed with Miss Stephenson to become just that, to be trained by Miss Nightingale to seek the status of a certified a Stephenson’s maid it was what she wanted wasn’t it?
Rosemary sniffled and wiped the tears from her rosy cheeks with her apron turning to Miss Nightingale. She should be angry, curse this sanctimonious woman stood imperious before her in yet another of Rosemary’s own fine dresses. But no, to the delight of Miss Nightingale, it was a simpering submissive Rosemary that dropped a curtsy her head lowered in shame.
Miss Nightingale stepped forward and lifted Rosemary’s chin and smiled.
“Good girl, I will make a Stephenson’s maid of you yet, now you know what a maid can expect should her performance fall below the high standards required of a Stephenson’s maid don’t you Rose.”
Rosemary looked meekly into the commanding eyes of her Mistress.
Miss Nightingale pointed to the stain on the rug.
“Now finish cleaning that rug I expect it to be spotless when you have finished.”
Rosemary back to her task, her bottom still stinging from her spanking, could not get the thoughts of how she had felt bent over the chair from her mind. How she had passively accepted her skirts to be raised and her bloomers lowered to present her bare bottom, the excruciating expectancy of the wooden paddle to lay its first strike, then the numbing pain when it did. How she had felt deserving of her punishment, the helpless weakness and humiliation that scorched through her senses when she hung over the chair her buttocks offered willingly to be spanked. Shivers ran through her, not of fear but of an acceptance that she should be spanked, must be spanked and will be spanked again, what was happening to her?
With another weekend approaching Miss Nightingale entered the wash room and informed Rosemary that the following weekend Miss Stephenson had arranged for a dinner party to be held at Malangton Hall. Next week would be a final test for Rosemary to prove her credentials to obtain her diploma. During the coming week and at the dinner party she must clear her mind of all thoughts other than being the maid at Malangton Hall. If she could not be totally convincing, during the coming week and with those attending the dinner, that she actually was just a maid, her certification to be a Stephenson’s maid would not happen.
Miss Nightingale cleverly warned Rose that Miss Stephenson did not grant diploma’s lightly and could be quite devious inferring that she may try anything to expose Rosemary to be a fraud and to be on her guard at all times.
Rosemary looked up from the laundry tub and laid one of her fine petticoats, now her Mistresses fine petticoats that she had been washing over the washboard and sighed.
“Another week Mistress but that means I will have been working for you as a maid for a month?” I did not think it would take so long when I agreed to all this? With what you have put me through I don’t think I will have any trouble convincing anyone I am just the maid here, why you have me thinking I am just the maid myself most of the time.”
Sitting back on her short squat stool by the wash tub Rosemary inadvertently stretched her stooping chain and sighed at the stimulus.
“And this, this chain thing you have me locked into shuffling around the Hall I can’t move but I am teased and tormented and the chastity belt I am made to wear. I am going out of my mind with frustration, you have me permanently horny with no release I swear you have me on the edge of madness.”
Miss Nightingale smiled and ran her fingers through her maid’s hair then stroked at the nape of her neck.
“No release?” “Do you not enjoy the comfort of your Mistress's bed?”
Rosemary blushed thinking of what her Mistress now had her doing in the confines of her bed chamber. Left locked in her chastity belt and stooping chain with her wrists secured in a cuff belt, writhing and squirming between her Mistress's thighs licking and lapping at her sex begging to be allowed to play with herself. Being denied and derided called a whore and spanked. Rosemary not blushing at the ignominy of being used by her Mistress like a whore but for the craving and willingness she had to be used like a Mistresses whore.
Miss Nightingale smirked raising her blushing maid to her feet and looked Rosemary in the eye. Pressing a firm hand at Rosemary’s skirts, through to the shield of her chastity belt concealed beneath, Rosemary softly whimpered.
“Yes I thought so; maid Rose loves her nocturnal pleasures doesn’t she?”
It was a rhetorical question, both Maid and Mistress knowing the answer. Rosemary regained her position by the wash tub and Miss Nightingale glided out of the washroom and back into the luxury of the now well kept hall.
Rosemary pummelled the clothing on the washboard glad she could now see an end to her labours. With all the wet laundry having eventually passed through the ringer, Rosemary headed out into the walled yard at the rear of Malangton hall to peg out the washing to dry.
During her duties on the Monday which involved quite a lot of stretching, cleaning off the pelmets, curtain rails and light shades along with replacing mantles in the gas lights, Rosemary found her stooping chain much less painful, still restrictive but not severe?
Whilst washing that evening she found out why. The vicious yet decorative locking clamps came away in her fingers and, on inspection, she found that the steel pins of the locking screws, with the continual pressure, had pierced her numbed nipples and clitoris, the bulbous pointed ends of the pins now securing the chain ends in place.
Rosemary’s concern for the apparent degree of permanency was fleeting and overridden by the relief that the painful claw clasps were gone. Her mind reconciling that at the end of the week all her demeaning shackles of subjugation would be removed. All she had to do was convince Miss Stephenson and her guests that she was a maid and she would have her diploma and most importantly a Stephenson’s maid would be engaged at Malangton hall.
With Rosemary confined within the walls of Malangton hall under the pretence of her training to correctly supervise a Stephenson’s maid, then being convinced and accepting to actually work for a Stephenson’s maid diploma, Miss Stephenson was not idle.
Unknown to Rosemary, the scheming Miss Stephenson, with Rosemary’s signed power of attorney in hand, was very convincing when, about the local village, she told of Mrs Worthington’s financial demise. How her lavish spending on her extensive travelling and reckless investments had left her penniless just like her friend Mrs Longmire at Westbury Manor.
How she had taken pity on Mrs Worthington, like she had with Mrs Longmire and had agreed that she could stay on at Malangton Hall in the role of housemaid. That Miss Nightingale was now the Mistress of Malangton hall.
Letters had also been written to all the contacts, the list of friends and family that Rosemary had misguidedly given to Miss Stephenson at their initial meetings. The correspondence explaining the same and that visiting was not advised until the new maid at Malangton hall had come to terms with her reduced circumstances.
Miss Stephenson requesting that those she told did not seek to belittle the unfortunate Mrs Worthington just to accept that she was now just a housemaid and to treat her accordingly. That her fall from grace, whilst a result of her own reckless behaviour, they should share her own sympathy for Mrs Worthington like they had previously for Mrs Longmire.
Unknowing of what was planned for her Rosemary was counting the days now to when her time of being a maid would be over and she could return to being the Mistress of Malangton hall. It was Tuesday evening, after serving dinner and cleaning the kitchen that Rosemary was called by the tinkle of her Mistress's bell and entering the study curtsied.
Miss Nightingale with the account books for Malangton Hall spread on the desk smiled.
“It is the quarter end Rose and the villages’ traders will be calling to settle their accounts this week. It would not surprise me if Miss Stephenson is planning to trip you up before the dinner party, catch you off guard. If they don’t show any surprise when they see you then I suspect that is what she is trying. If they do we can explain about the training and do the accounts with them together.”
Miss Nightingale, with her perfected deception, drew Rosemary into her scheme that was aimed, not at convincing the traders that she was now the maid at Malangton hall but to actually reinforce what they had already been told.
Rosemary would need to be totally convincing when they called.
Rosemary giggled at what Miss Nightingale proposed and it was agreed that she would be the perfect maid to convince them that she was now nothing more than the housemaid at Malangton hall. She couldn’t let Miss Stephenson trick her could she?
Miss Stephenson, having already convinced the traders of Mrs Worthington’s concocted financial tribulations and just to treat her like they would any other maid, why would they expect to find anything other than what Miss Nightingale was planning to display to them, a courteous housemaid.
Rosemary, quite giddy at the prospect of portraying herself to be a maid to the traders in the village, found Miss Nightingale’s suggestion to dye her black, to add to the subterfuge quite amusing. That evening following a trim to neaten up Rosemary’s short bob style and a black dye applied Miss Nightingale complemented Rosemary on her new look.
Thursday, just after lunch, found Rosemary in the kitchen cleaning the silver cutlery for the forthcoming dinner party being hosted by Miss Stephenson. There were to be six for dinner and Rosemary was going to ensure that she would not be found wanting with regards to her preparation.
The bell at main door rang and Rosemary made her way down the hallway to answer the door. Rosemary straightened her apron and cap then took a deep breath and opened the door.
It was Bob Wilkes from the farm, he had supplied Malangton hall with produce since Rosemary and her husband had moved into the hall.
He looked at who he knew was Mrs Worthington stood in a maid’s uniform and hid his emotions. Stood before him a rather tired looking woman not the vivacious smiling face he had known, her hair jet black cut into a short bob below a lacy maids cap where luscious locks once tumbled to her shoulders. No lofty poise with head held high replaced by a noticeable submissive stoop. So it was all true what he had been told by Miss Stephenson. Mrs Worthington was no longer the Mistress of Malangton hall she was now just the housemaid.
Bob stammered somewhat upset with what he had seen but he had to be strong for her, Mrs Worthington had been good to him over the years, he could not let his emotions show.
“Erm, here to see erm... your Mistress Miss Nightingale.”
Rosemary was unsure but when her old friend said he was here to see Miss Nightingale the Mistress and said nothing about how she looked and was dressed she was convinced this was one of Miss Stephenson’s traps that Miss Nightingale had warned her about. Miss Stephenson probably thinking she would greet Bob like she would normally. But the misguided Rosemary was not going to be tricked was she?
Rosemary dropped curtsy
“Certainly Sir, would you follow me.”
Bob tried to avert his gaze when Rosemary dropped her curtsy and called him Sir, a mixture of sorrow and embarrassment in his eyes.
Along the hallway to the study Bob followed the shuffling maid that guided him.
Entering the study Rosemary curtsied believing this was part of their ruse offering discreet wink.
“Mr Wilkes from Dunsmoor farm to see you Mistress.”
Miss Nightingale smiled standing from her chair behind the desk holding out her hand to greet Mr Wilkes but staring at her maid.
“You may go now Rose, close the door when you leave.”
Rosemary curtsied, turned to leave and smiled all the way to the kitchen to continue cleaning the cutlery thinking to herself, if that didn’t convince Bob Wilkes I am a maid I don’t know what would. Rosemary was convinced that she had thwarted Miss Stephenson’s plans but in fact she had done just the opposite.
With Rosemary out of the room Bob Wilkes took Miss Nightingale's offered hand then flopped down into a chair by the desk. When he looked up Miss Nightingale was offering a glass of whiskey which he gulped down.
“Woo!!! I am not a drinker as a rule Miss Nightingale but I needed that for sure I did. Oh my goodness gracious that poor woman, I would not have believed that if I had not seen it with my own eyes. That’s the pair of them then, Mrs Longmire and now Mrs Worthington. They have frittered away all their money and now look at them? Miss Stephenson told me everything and I must say how kind of you to let her keep a roof over her head. Allowing Mrs Worthington, sorry it is Rose now isn’t it, to stay to be your housemaid, just like the Mistress at Westbury Manor did for Mrs Longmire. They are both very fortunate.
Miss Nightingale almost purred with satisfaction listening to Rosemary’s long time friend Bob Wilkes accepting of her fate. It was no different when Bill Banbridge from the general store, Alf Tennison the Butcher and Maud Clayton from the bakery came to settle their accounts. Rosemary being the perfect Mistresses housemaid humbly curtsying confirming what they had been told by Miss Stephenson.
During conversation all inquired if Malangton hall would be taking guests like at Westbury Manor, why wouldn’t they, all had seen their business increase when guests took up residence at Westbury Manor.
Miss Nightingale confirmed that this would be the case knowing all the traders would soon forget about the plight of Mrs Worthington when their business increased.
Towards the end of the day the last caller was Miss Stephenson herself. Rosemary greeting her at the door with a curtsy and a knowing smile showed her to the parlour.
With Miss Stephenson sat in the parlour with Miss Nightingale Rosemary served sherry and was asked to remain whilst Miss Stephenson reviewed the file.
“Very good Rose, I like the hair much better you really are working for your diploma aren’t you. I note that you have been very convincing with the village’s traders? You could not have known but this was part of your final evaluation and you have convinced them that you actually are the housemaid at Malangton hall. Quite remarkable really don’t you think, that not one of them questioned you in your new position here, a housemaid to your Mistress Miss Nightingale?”
Mrs Stephenson’s let that thought drift through Rosemary’s mind but then, disguising her cunning duplicity, spoke in a soft almost condescending tone.
“I must apologies Rose, I have to admit I did explain your situation to the trades people before they came. Yes I was trying to expose you but you did well and Miss Nightingale confirmed that you did not put a foot wrong.”
Miss Stephenson feigned a look of concern turning to Miss Nightingale with an unseen wink of the eye before returning her attention to Rosemary.
“I do hope that was all natural for you Rose when the traders came to settle their accounts and that you did not receive any prompting from your Mistress?”
Rosemary blushed a little and squirmed at the false praise so it was true Miss Stephenson had tried to trick her just like Miss Nightingale had told her she would.
Rosemary dropped a curtsy and continued in the persona of the perfect maid believing she had passed some form of test and hoodwinked Miss Stephenson and the traders, where in truth she had sealed her own fate.
“Yes Miss it was natural, I am the maid here at Malangton Hall and they came to see my Mistress Miss Nightingale.”
Miss Stephenson smiled.
“Mmmmmmmmmmmmm well you only have the dinner party guests to convince now that you are just a maid here at Malangton hall and a Stephenson’s maid diploma will be yours.”
Saturday afternoon and Rosemary was putting the final touches to the table for the dinner party and she stood back with pride surveying her work. The cutlery gleamed, the glassware sparkled her finest crockery symmetrically placed it was perfect.
With vegetables prepared for cooking and a roast in the oven Rosemary was stirring at a saucepan when Miss Nightingale strode into the kitchen wearing Rosemary’s beautiful pale blue chiffon dress. Rosemary looked up from her busy stove and noticed the fine matching necklace, brooch and bracelet she was wearing. Rosemary’s jewellery that she thought secured in the safe.
“Mistress, why are you wearing my Jewellery that should all be locked away in the safe?
Miss Nightingale pawed possessively at the large Sapphire on the necklace and smiled.
“What, does it not look pretty on me do you not want your Mistress to look her best this evening?”
Rosemary was not happy but this was to be her last night being Miss Nightingale's maid wasn’t it? Rosemary had to admit that her very best dress looked beautiful on her Mistress and the matching set of Jewellery encrusted with Sapphires took her look from beautiful to stunning.
Rosemary offered a weak smile.
“Sorry Mistress, yes of course I want you to look your best and you do, forgive me.”
Leaving Rosemary in the steam filled kitchen Miss Nightingale chuckled walking to the Parlour to await the arrival of Miss Stephenson and her guests.