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.

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.”

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!).

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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.

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.”

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?"  

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.