Story: New Employee. Chapter 41.

 by BigBird74

Just how vulnerable was I? It appeared extremely. I could try to get to my father. I could run from the whole ghastly situation. Anything would be better than simply waiting and sinking further into this new life! But I sat still. For the moment it felt that my options had run out and I was safest staying just where I was. As an undocumented worker, I had no money, nowhere to go. I did not even have an official identity. All my life I had received the very best money could buy. Everything had been so simple and natural, one easy, obvious option after the other. I was totally unprepared for anything involving such a wrenching dilemma like this. I felt dizzy, disoriented and very afraid.

I obsessively scanned the same pages in the newspaper several times, hoping to gleam something new, a ray of hope, perhaps, something I had misread earlier. But, of course, nothing changed and the situation remained bleak. As much as I focused on my father’s fate, I also needed to find out what had happened to my sister. Had she been caught up in the same imbroglio? There was nothing mentioned in the paper. If she had any part in the scandal, it was not immediately obvious. The fear or flight battle taking part inside of me then flared back into life: I could go and find her! At least to see where she might be? It had been months of zero contact and I needed to know what had happened. The impulsive side to my character, the one that had led me to this point, again took hold of the reins. I knew that on a normal day Katherine’s assistant would return after several hours. That gave me more than enough time to work my way to my sister’s apartments, several blocks away. I grabbed a light coat from my former wardrobe and tried to cover my ill-fitting, drab uniform as best I could and headed out of the building to see.

Story: New Employee. Chapter 40.

by BigBird74

Katherine’s assistant had gone on something of a purge. A number of the people I dealt with on a daily basis had either been transferred or removed from their position. Doormen, handymen, even suppliers to the building, all had been changed. The effect, no doubt, was to surround me with people that could never suspect who I was. The powerlessness I suddenly felt gave rise to a familiar, delicious tingle between my thighs. It is amazing how those three words, ‘who I was’, could elicit such delight. I had found it increasingly wasteful to fret about the question. The anxiety I had experienced at the start of this adventure had given way to tiredness and exhaustion. As time ran away from weeks to months, I had found it difficult to even start contemplating turning back without eliciting a degree of horror at what that would involve. My exit from this life depended on one person and she showed no signs of changing anything.

As well as attending to the lobby and the various communal areas of the building, my duties extended to cover my former penthouse. Katherine’s assistant now lived here and was revelling in the luxury that it offered her. She had taken to wearing many of my former clothes and jewels, and for all intents and purposes, was living a similar life to the one I had vacated. I assumed that both of us got a thrill from my servile role in my former home. At least I was sure at the outset, though as we grew used to the situation, things turned a little more routine. The dominatrix-style sessions we had enjoyed previously became rarer and, eventually ceased.

I am not sure whether she did it on purpose or not, but Katherine’s assistant had the habit of leaving important papers on her desk when she knew I would be tidying upstairs. I felt she did it as a way of taunting me about my former life, reminding me that Katherine was now something else: a fiction, less real now than Marta. How else could one explain printed emails for goodness sake! Most often they were emails from ‘Katherine’ to her, granting her privileges or roles within the company that elevated her yet higher.

Story: An Invite From a Neighbour

By Jackie J

Following a significant promotion at his work Mark Jacobs and his wife Pauline had moved into the exclusive suburb of Rockford just outside the city of Longton.  Large houses stood in their own grounds many gated, populated by rich couples. Over time Pauline had got to know most of her neighbours whilst out walking or during lunches at the golf and country club which was situated just a short drive from her home. 

Whilst most of the fine houses were inhabited by couples Miss Janice Partington was the exception on the tree lined avenue on which Pauline now lived. Janice was single, beautiful and with a figure that was surely the envy of all the ladies living in the neighbourhood. With no visible means of support, it was a mystery how Janice managed to live such a lavish lifestyle. None of Pauline’s neighbours seemed keen to discuss the mysterious Janice and Pauline put this down to petty jealousy of her good looks, perfect figure and financial independence.

Pauline was quite surprised when she received a note inviting her to meet with Janice and take lunch with her. Pauline had only been on nodding terms with this vivacious woman and in the twelve months since Pauline had arrived in the area they had hardly spoken.

Story: Window Shopping. Chapter 5.

by Jackie J

My only possession being the locket that my princess had thrust into my hand before we were separated and, tempted as I was to sell it, I couldn’t part with it. With the help of the girls who had sheltered me I managed to get a job in a clothing factory. Long hours, hard work and poor pay but it was better than being on the streets. After many months and pleading I managed to get to visit my princess. I cried when I saw her. Gone her beautiful clothes, her hair cut short she had lost a lot of weight and looked haggard in her prison fatigues. We held hands through the bars and both shed more tears.

I told her to be strong and that I would wait for her and I visited her every week on Fridays. I always brought gifts for the guards, cigarettes, chocolate whatever I could afford. Not everyone supported the coup, although they could not show it, and some of the guards were of this persuasion.  This gave me the opportunity to spend a little longer than permitted during my visits and smuggle in the odd luxury for my princess, such as soap and toiletries.

My work at the factory made me smile sewing in labels for major stores in the UK, Marks and Spencer, Gap Next along with less familiar names.  I was no expert, having never set foot in a factory before, but six months in and with the few obvious suggestions I made, it resulted in my promotion to supervisor of accessories and thread.  The additional money helped and I managed to get a room to myself at the hostel.

Story: Window Shopping. Chapter 4.

By Jackie J

If keeping me locked in my room was to reinforce the helplessness, I was feeling it was working. Three days four I wasn’t sure my mind was in turmoil. A week ago this Princess Makabuku would have more likely to have been a client not my owner. Owner, this was ridiculous people can’t be owned, they just can’t, but I was?

The room I was in was obviously below ground level and through the barred window I could see the only light coming in was down a shaft through a steel grid some ten feet above. If I had to design a cell this would be it and I was in it. I found the closet and drawers contained more clothing, the same that I was now dressed in. Plain food was brought to me twice a day by a pretty blonde haired girl, collared like I was and dressed like I was. She spoke no English and from her accent I guessed Eastern European probably having come to England to chase her dreams only to end up here a slave to an African Princess.

What haunted me about the girl, when she shuffled into my room, being her hunched shoulders, her lowered head and the deadness in her eyes? She was obviously young, perhaps in her mid twenties, but there was no sparkle in her eyes was this the fate that awaited me?

Story: Window Shopping. Chapters 1-3.

by Jackie J

Chapter 1

Things were going well I had settled into my new apartment, following my promotion and I had eventually got over the breakdown of my relationship with Jenny. Jenny wasn’t happy but it just wasn’t working out, I miss her of course I do but it was for the best.

We had been together on and off since college days and following our breakup Jenny went back to her parents’ place in the country. We had spent many happy days at her parent’s estate but that was over two years ago now and I had, as they say, moved on, hadn’t I? Of course not, a day did not pass that I did not think of her and I still wonder if it was the same for Jenny. Jenny had become increasingly domineering, obsessive perhaps, sure I was the passive one and I didn’t mind that, Jenny was so tender with me between the sheets but when it came to all or nothing I could not commit, I just couldn’t.

But for the burst water main at the junction with cross street I would not be walking down peters lane but it was now the quickest way to the tube. Strange, but only a hundred yards or so from my apartment, I had never walked down this street before. Various independent stores on either side with apartments above, quite a retail oasis hidden behind the glass and chrome fronted major outlets of cross street.

My eyes were drawn to one particular double fronted store and dodging the traffic, which was also using peters lane for a diversion, I crossed the road to take a closer look. Smiling at the display my mind drifted back to happy times at Jenny’s parent’s estate. My smile turned to a giggle looking at the mannequins remembering Jenny’s “Games”.

Story: Polish Au Pair Takes Control.

This story is written by Kristina Katyn, who co-wrote Kristina’s Secret Cleaning Job with Peter Martin.  I remember reading this story a few years ago and enjoying it, and then suddenly found myself in contact with Kristina herself, and she has assented to my including it here.  It describes how a busy housewife and a lady of the house found herself losing control of her own household.  Kristina loves corresponding on the subject of ladies becoming maids (or an au pair in this case) and many other subjects too.  Her email address is katyn99@hotmail.com.

by Kristina Katyn  (Copyright October 2005.)

(F/F, lesbian, humiliation, domestic, spanking, BDSM, non-consensual?)

Humbly, I knelt down on the kitchen floor and scrubbed at the stains with the stiff-bristled wooden brush.  My knees hurt already, but what I was not prepared for was the intimate tingle inside my most private part as I saw out of the corner of my eye that Aniela, our Polish au pair, was sitting (sitting!), watching me scrub.  Her skirt did not reach past her knees, and between her legs was visible the glistening pink triangle of her panties, not quite obscured by her slim thighs.  The shiny pink triangle seemed to be sending a message, "Surely you can see that if you are down low enough to see my panties, you are submitting to my will."

Perhaps I had been working her too hard again.  If she felt overworked and tired, it was probably reasonable for her to tell me so and take a break.  Brown-haired, pale skinned, attractive in an Eastern European way, Aniela was an efficient au pair if slightly too assertive for an ideal employee.  

I did not like the way she had practically `instructed' me to finish the cleaning because she was too tired, and she had now done this several days this week!  She was too darned cheeky.  But maybe I was too ready to give in.  I always avoided conflict, I always had.  And for some reason I wanted to please her.

"You still need to lose some weight," Aniela observed, staring at my skirt-covered bottom which was sticking in the air as I cleaned.

 "What a nerve," I thought.  But she was right.  And I preferred a fellow girl to say it than my

husband.  I would have to diet more over the next two weeks.  David was due back then and I wanted to be pretty for him.

Story: Kristina's Secret Cleaning Job.

It’s always a pleasure to discover new authors writing in the lady-to-maid genre. This one first appeared on Lush Stories and was recommended to me by a reader. Republishing it with the authors’ permission.

by Peter Martin and Kristina Katyn

Note: I wrote this story together with my friend Kristina Katyn, who had written to tell me how much she enjoyed my writing. She has written other stories too. This story is based partly at least on some of her experiences in real life. Her email address is: katyn99@hotmail.com  We hope you enjoy the story.

Kristina felt her normal sense of foreboding as she walked up the pathway to Heather’s house. It was two o’clock on Saturday afternoon and she knew that although her cleaning and ironing duties should last three hours she was unlikely to leave much before eight o’clock. She wondered whether her bottom would be untouched or stinging when she left Heather's house that evening. That usually depended upon how satisfied Heather was with the quality of her work. Heather did not like imperfections, neither in cleaning duties nor in other things. Kristina had learned on previous occasions that Heather was exceptionally particular.

It was a cool afternoon but, as always, Kristina had to wear only summery clothes and today wore a green vest top that was tight and showed off her perhaps slightly too generous curves, as well as a short A-line white skirt that showed off her bare also slightly overweight thighs. However, it was Heather who told her what to wear and she was the boss and needed to be obeyed. In fact, Kristina happily accepted Heather’s strictures and did not wear a jacket or any other sort of top because that was what Heather preferred, and so she felt chilly as she knocked on the door.

Story: It Was All For Charity, Wasn't It? Epilogue.

by Jackie J

Weeks turned into months and whilst there may have been some lingering hope, in the early weeks, there was to be no return to her previous life for Countess Polanski. Her head remained shaven, the belt only removed at essential times of the month and any thoughts of a change from her chosen path had long evaporated leaving little, if any, trace of the smart sophisticated woman she once was.

During the first weeks and months Miss Jennings fed the Countess's fetish, binding her, locking her in her squalid room, having her new young Mistress mocking her and of course the Countess was punished for the merest indiscretion or failure to comply to Miss Jennings's strict regime.

Countess Polanski had known how effective her housekeeper was at subjugation and the breaking of will’s, she couldn’t risk that, could she, but she had. Her worst fears had been realised unannounced, unnoticed and seamlessly. Her mental and physical capitulation and degradation leaving Countess Polanski no different to the other young women who, she had watched with envy, surrender their minds and bodies to her manipulative housekeeper.

Merle Oberon. Art Imitating Life Imitating Art.

Margo Taft and her "maid"

If there ever was a place with over-abundance of skeletons in the closet it’s Hollywood. However, this real story is quite something even by its standards. 

One of the characters in The Last Tycoon, a recent Amazon TV series based on F. Scott Fitzgerald’s unfinished last novel about movie studio business, is actress Margo Taft, a fiercely independent star who has a secret that could ruin her career – she’s half-black and is only passing for white, while her real mother is by her side, masquerading as her black maid Lucille. 

Of course, there is nothing new about the whole “passing for white” phenomenon back in the day with numerous actors and actresses (as well as people from other walks of life) hiding their real origin (if their looks allowed) to get a better chance in life. What I didn’t know was that the story about a non-white mother acting as maid to her own “white” daughter is loosely based on an actual Hollywood story, that of Merle Oberon.

Largely forgotten today, Oberon was a big star in the 1930s and 1940s, renowned for her striking beauty.  Her most famous role is probably that of Cathy in the 1939 classic adaptation of Wuthering Heights alongside Laurence Olivier.  Looking at her pictures it boggles me why no one really suspected that she was mixed race, especially at the time when people allegedly paid so much attention to these things, but, not unlike Liberace, she managed to take her big secret – she was born in Bombay in 1911 to a British father and an under-age half-Sri Lankan mother (with some Maori blood to boot) – to her grave. 

Throughout her career she concealed her ethnic origin and maintained that she was born in Tasmania (apparently considered a lot more acceptable that Bombay, not to mention the birthplace of Hollywood’s great Errol Flynn) and only moved to India after her upper-class father died in a “hunting accident”. 

Story: It Was All For Charity, Wasn't It? Chapter 11.

by Jackie J

Following her discussion with her housekeeper the Countess was all prepared in her rooms for the arrival of Madeline when the door handle turned but it wasn’t maid Maddie who entered her chambers but Miss Jennings.

Countess Polanski looked shocked stood in her maid’s attire.

“What, what are you doing here I thought you were sending Maddie up to my rooms?”

Miss Jennings smiled looking the Countess up and down.

“Well, well you told me about this but I had to see this for myself.”

Miss Jennings walked to the Countess and lifted the hem of the Countesses dress and the cheap nylon underskirt that both hung loose on her calves and chuckled.

Story: Daphe and the White Apron. Part 8 - Final.

by Monica Graz

8.1

“Inspection time girls!” Mme Ahmad said clapping her hands and both Rosie and Lita run from the kitchen to the central hallway. They both were dressed in a formal black and white uniform, elegant but quite conservative, the hem of their dresses a couple of inches below the knee. A smart white half apron and a small white cap completed the outfit.

They arrived in front of Mme Ahmad and curtseyed as she looked at them critically.

“Yes, you both look very dapper and professional and you smell nicely as well,” she said giving a side look at Lita who blushed remembering how she was chastised earlier for being a bit smelly. This time she added plenty of arm deodorant and light lavender cologne that Rosie provided.

Mme looked at the clock and added, “In a few minutes the guests will start arriving. You Lita will stand by the door and welcome them with a slight curtsey, nothing theatrical, just a small bob and then take their coats, bags or whatever else they pass to you. I’ll be behind you to greet them.  As I told you already Mr. Ahmad will come directly from the office with a group of his colleagues.”

Then turning to Rosie, she continued, “Rosie you will start circulating among the guests with a tray of champagne, orange and apple sparkling juice. I expect that half of our guests will stay out of alcohol.”

“Yes Mme,” both maids said in unison as she dismissed them with her hand.

From an Office Worker to a Maid

This AP story was recommended to me by a reader. Admittedly, it's from 2009 so may be a bit obsolete when it comes to the current dynamics of China's labour force and wages, but it's interesting nonetheless. Indeed, isn't it any office worker's fear worldwide? Being demoted or fired and forced to take a job well beneath one's qualification? A maid? Or a cashier at a supermarket? Not even sure what will be seen as more degrading. Probably the latter even though the former is hardly a boost to one's ego. It's a nice little story and a rare entry in the "real life" category. I am copying it below for your reading enjoyment, compete with two photos of a "downgraded" former office worker with appropriately L2M-ish captions.


In China, Some White-Collar Women Are Now Maids

GUANGZHOU, China — She majored in English and loved her job as an office worker in China's once-booming export industry. But now Xiong Xuhua is jobless and in training to be a housekeeper, a fate she is too embarrassed to tell even her husband about.

Wearing a blue apron with a white Hawaiian floral print, Xiong spent a recent day at a school for domestic workers practicing how to use a squeegee to clean a window without leaving streaks across the glass.

Once an office worker, Xiong Xuhua gets cleaning instructions at a school for domestic workers in Guangzhou, China, on Wednesday.

"I haven't told anyone in my family, not even my husband, that I'm going to do this kind of work," the petite 24-year-old woman said in a hushed voice as she looked down at the ground with a blank face.

China's economic slump has sidetracked the careers of thousands of university graduates who studied computers, management and other fields. Now, many professional women are scrambling for jobs as nannies and housekeepers — work they never would have considered before.

Story: It Was All For Charity, Wasn't It? Chapter 10.

by Jackie J

With Madeline agreeing to stay at Sharston there was an awkward silence before Miss Jennings spoke pointing to the prone Countess on the bed.

“Well girl make yourself useful, tie and gag that I have something for it.”

Madeline looked at the discarded cord by the bed.

“I am not sure I know how Miss.”

Miss Jennings snatched up the thin rope.

“Then watch and learn girl.”

The Countess placed her hands into the small of her back and Madeline watched Miss Jennings skilfully form loops around her wrists, then with a double twist and knots that she worked twice she stood back.

Story: It Was All For Charity, Wasn't It? Chapter 9.

By Jackie J

Whilst carrying clean linen to the guest room that she had cleaned, unseen looking over the banister on the stairway, Annie shivered at what she witnessed in the main hallway below. A grim-faced Madeline, wearing a uniform no different to her own, on her hands and knees, practically sobbing polishing the floor tiles. Miss Jennings stood angrily above her.

“Now girl put some effort into your work or you will get more of the same understand.”

Annie had missed Madeline’s first spanking at the hands of Miss Jennings but needed little imagination to know what had occurred, Annie having felt that large coarse callused hand of Miss Jennings on her tender ass many times. The shock of her swift descent from the pampered guest of the Countess to her hard-worked maid filling Madeline’s mind with confusion and she rubbed hard fearful of further punishment from Miss Jennings.

A teary face looked up at Miss Jennings.

“Yes, Miss sorry Miss.”

Story: It Was All For Charity, Wasn't It? Chapter 8.

by Jackie J

An ashen-faced Christine Lamont returned to the breakfast bar having received a call from Welshpool General Hospital and sat down beside Charles. Her mother had taken a serious fall, head injuries and a broken hip. Christine’s father, restricted to a wheel chair following a stroke, would need care they had to go and help. Their conversation regarding what to do was broken with the telephone ringing again and Christine rushed to answer it.

The call, not from the hospital, but from Madeline.

Back in the kitchen Charles poured more coffee and asked who was on the phone.

Christine sighed.

“It was Madeline, seems she is going to stay up at Sharston Manor with the Countess for a few days, I told her again not to get too friendly with that maid friend of hers or she will end up like her, cheeky madam said she might just do that to spite me, I do hope she was joking. I have told her about her grandma and that we will be heading up to Welshpool to look after her granddad. I told her I didn’t know how long we will be away but she didn’t seem too bothered. Anyway, she is a grown woman, although the way she behaves you wouldn’t know it, she can look after herself we need to get organised for our trip it’s a long drive to Welshpool."

Act Your Age. A New Book is Out!

I have a new book out that I hope all of you will enjoy. It is not a lady-to-maid tale, but an age progression novella. Still, many of the elements that make the L2M sub-genre so exciting are still there:  change/loss of status, loss of identity, stuck as someone you impersonate, realistic f/f transformation and elements of downgrade and domination. So if you like my other stuff, you will most definitely like this one too.

Her Aunt Julia's invitation to spend a few days at her luxurious villa near Florence was difficult to resist. Not only was London cold and damp but cold and damp seemed to describe her acting career.  Josephine had suffered yet another "we'll let you know" at her last audition and, it seemed she'd never get her chance to shine.

When a freak accident forces the 25-year old to impersonate her very rich aunt – a woman well into her 50s who was addicted to plastic surgery and was about to marry a much younger man to boot – she sees it as yet another role to play, albeit not the one she could add to her acting resume.  Still, she does her best, assuming the pampered life of her socialite aunt, a woman obsessed with her looks and preserving her fleeting youth. After all, it was only for a day or two until her fiancé could arrange matters and divert suspicion. However, it soon becomes obvious that Josephine’s impersonation will have to be a lot deeper – and much longer – than she thought possible. 

You can order the e-book from Amazon and from Smashwords. Please leave a review if you like it and don't hesitate to contact me directly or leave a comment below.

Special thanks go to Robyn Hoode for all the editing and encouragement. 

I am posting the first three chapters for you below:

Story: It Was All For Charity, Wasn't It? Chapter 7

by Jackie J

Clean panties; make up applied, and a liberal application of perfume Madeline made her way to the dining room. The Countess smiled when Madeline entered and took her seat at the table.

“Madeline my dear how pretty you look, that dress fits you perfectly.”

A shake of the Countesses bell and Annie appeared and curtsied.

“Mistress.”

“Annie you may serve breakfast.”

“Madeline will kippers be alright for you?”

Annie raised her gaze and looked directly across the table at her friend Madeline sat in one of her own dresses and Madeline offered an unreturned smile.

Story: It Was All For Charity, Wasn't It? Chapter 6.

By Jackie J

With her guests having left barring one the Countess returned to the lounge to find Madeline giggling listening to Miss Jennings.

Countess Polanski smiled.

“What is so amusing Madeline.”

“Oh, Countess Miss Jennings is teasing me about Annie telling me that she had to spank her bare bottom like a naughty child when she was petulant.

The Countess sat opposite Miss Jennings and Madeline.

“Well Madeline I have to say that is true, it was Annie herself, having been told of such punishment by Lizzie, and demanding to be treated no different than any maid in service, approached Miss Jennings in a very contrite manner. She had, during that particular day, exhibited behaviour not befitting a maid in service and knew she had. Annie more or less demanded she should be punished in a fitting way. Previously she may have been sent to her room or missed supper but a fitting way for this behaviour was a spanking in front of her Mistress and Annie knew this. That first spanking, yes there have been more, I remember Annie entering the parlour and having dropped her knickers leaned over the arm of that very sofa you are sitting on and her taught, tight, bare cheeks were slapped crimson by Miss Jennings. Annie whelped at first which softened into an accepting whine.”

Story: It Was All For Charity, Wasn't It? Chapter 5.

By Jackie J

The car seemed to know its own way along the winding roads junction after junction in the failing light of the early evening. Madeline commented on the benefit of modern satellite navigation never realising it was not switched on!

Dark when they arrived at Sharston Manor a red light blinked above the heavy steel gates that swung open when the car approached. Along the winding driveway the manor came into view Annette’s description of the manor to Madeline had been correct. The manor house was more like a castle but looked a little eerie in the darkness when Madeline peered through the gloom, this impression reinforced by the mist swirling around the main entrance when the car approached. 

The elegantly dressed group left the car to be met on the steps by a no less elegantly dressed Countess Polanski.

“Good evening, I decided to meet you personally my staff are preparing dinner for us.

Story: It Was All for Charity, Wasn't It?

by Jackie J

Chapter 1

Annette de Court and Madeline Lamont giggled together. The posters were finished, most of the tickets had been sold and both were looking forward to raising more funds for the homeless charity they ran.

Annette and Madeline both spoiled to point of decadence by their wealthy parents lived an idyllic life behind the high walls of their large family homes. Both having attended the same boarding school for girls and gone on to the same university together, they had been friends since early childhood. Neither had married or followed a career and now in their mid-twenties had found their only purpose in the charity they ran. This much to the annoyance of their parents having realized they had on their hands a pair of feckless parasites who were bleeding them dry, but what could they do? The de Courts were much wealthier than the Lamont’s and Annette was always ready to remind Madeline of this, more of an issue for Madeline’s mother than her daughter who could not stand her daughter being second best.

A coin tossed both chuckled and teased each other but the decision was made, it would be Madeline who would be leading the auction and Annette? Well this is where the story begins.

Annette and Madeline had held a number of charity events coercing their friends, acquaintances and particularly their parents to participate and parting with their cash but this event was to be special. A run-down terrace in the nearby town of Wheelstone had come on the market which would make a perfect refuge for the lost souls of the area. They knew that they could never raise enough from just the normal attendees, who were of course generous, but the net had to be spread wider. They also knew that something special, something different had to be on offer to attract the attention of a wider audience, but what? 

The pair had gathered together a number of lots for the auction of varying value to give everyone the opportunity to bid in line with their pockets. However, the star lot of the auction was “A Maid for a Month” a strap line that they hoped would bring in the crowds. The toss of the coin had decided that it would be Annette who would be placed on the block to offer her services to be a maid for a month to the successful bidder.

All was arranged and with her parents both away for the summer, at their chateaux in France, the event would be held at Annette’s home Cragdale. When Annette had mentioned to Mrs. Burnside, the housekeeper at Cragdale, what Madeline and her were planning she shrugged her shoulders and tutted. Housekeeping was her profession a profession she was proud of. How could a spoiled, headstrong young woman like Annette possibly carry out maid’s work?

Story: Daphe and the White Apron. Part 7.

by Monica Graz

Author’s note

Apologies for the delay. As often happens to us amateur writers, real life activities can be at times very demanding and challenging.

They will be two more episodes to finish Daphne’s predicament.

Episode 7 below and episode 8 that will follow very shortly.  

-----

“Girl! Halika dito.” Rosie yelled impatiently to Lita from the dining room, in that peculiar mixture of Tagalog and English, Taglish as it was called between the Filipina maids abroad.

Lita hastily had a last sip of her coffee checked her appearance in the kitchen mirror- a habit that she couldn’t resist- adjusted her work apron and run towards the dining room where Rosie was setting the table for this evening’s dinner party.

“Yes Miss Rosie,” she said with her customary small bob. In the past few weeks she started calling her Miss, to Rosie’s delight; she did it without being asked, simply because her submissive genes had completely taken over and she was acting as the junior maid in the Ahmad household with Rosie becoming more and more the housekeeper.

Story: Ms. Paula Johnson, Successful Barrister

by Jackie J

Attractive, polite and diligent Wendy was the perfect maid for Paula Johnson. Paula Johnson single, by choice, in her early thirties and a successful Barrister, which took her away for weeks at a time, Wendy looking after the rambling household in her absence.

Ms Johnson was quite fastidious about her maid and her attire, traditional, old fashioned especially in the modern era. Wendy wore a prim maid’s uniform, black calf length dress, starched apron, seamed stockings, impractical stilettos and a lace trimmed cap her uniform to be worn at all times.

Ms Johnson also insisting on being called Miss, Miss Paula or Ms Johnson with little or no familiarity.

Paula a pretty brunette would be returning in a few days from her latest trip at a claims tribunal for a medical Insurance company, always proud of how many claims she could reject.

Having been engaged by Ms Johnson for some time Wendy had become familiar with her Mistresses routines and, more importantly, her desires and was ready to make some changes within the Johnson household and put her plan into action.

Story: The Secret Slave. Epilogue.

by SW

Widecreek Plantation, Georgia, September 1848

As the Master and Mistress of Widecreek manor sat down to breakfast, the lady - costumed in an expensive yet elegantly simple white lawn-cloth frock - half turned her head to the maid standing to attention behind her and asked:

“You have water warming for my bath?”

The girl dipped and replied, “Yes'm Mistiss 'Liz'beth.  It be ready soon as breakfus' is ovah an' we'se cleared table Ma'am.”

The mistress nodded slightly and said: “Very good Sophie.  You can bring it up immediately after clearing away,” and then, turning to the other maid at table, she continued: “You'll take care of the baby Milly, you may sit with him on the porch.”

The petite black girl smiled, dipped and then replied brightly, “Yes'm Mistiss,” it was a duty that she favored - as long as the baby, almost three months old, was settled and he generally was.

Story: Miss Winterbourne’s New Helper. Chapters 1-4.

by Jackie J

Chapter 1

“Well Miss Winterbourne, how can I help? Where do I start?”

Miss Winterbourne turned from the sink and laughed which muted to a wry smile.

“Mistress, what were you thinking? You can start by getting out of the beautiful dress, you will ruin it!”

Lady Fitzgibbon smoothed her hands down over her dress and looked at her housekeeper.

“What, what’s wrong with this? Nonsense, it’s not that new!”

Miss Winterbourne walked away from the large stone sink and the stack of pots and pans with her dish cloth in hand.

“Mistress, not only will you ruin that dress but it is totally impractical. Your offer to help, whilst Janice is away, looking after her sick aunt is most welcome, but really, you cannot be serious doing her duties dressed like that.”

Miss Winterbourne pointed to a prim maid’s uniform hung at the far side of the kitchen.

Story: The Secret Slave. Part 19.

by SW

It was on the journey in a hired carriage from the town-center slave auction to the leafy coastal district (and the Morgan residence there) that Sophie learned that her new owner was not, in fact, the man who had made the highest bid for her at the sale.  Her master said:

“Well Sophie, it seems that your mistress regretted selling you to Mister Johnstone. She couldn't attend the auction and so asked me to act on her behalf - your papers are made out to her.  She will collect you in a week or so and you will then, once again, be Madam Deveraux's slave.  How do you feel about that girl?”

“Oh Massa! Thankee Massa! I is glad to be goin' home to my missus.  I nevah wanted to be sol' off suh!” and she began to sob once more.  She felt as though she had been rescued from some dark and bleak abyss and the tears of relief flowed freely from her eyes.  It seemed that her journey into slavery, entered into just a few months previously - though not quite altogether - innocently, had come full circle and for all that she was ruined as an aristocratic young lady of quality she felt immensely grateful to be journeying back to the safer situation at the Morgan's place where it had all begun.  That Elizabeth had, somehow, obtained the information, and found the means, to save her so quickly was not lost on her and her bosom filled with pride and love for her friend.  Whatever lay before her it would be under Elizabeth's care and protection and she felt the luckiest girl alive.  For Sophie, the journey from the miserable auction yard to the splendid Morgan household was one of redemption and salvation.  She hoped and believed that the recent traumas of her experience in bondage were finally behind her, and thus, she resolved to be a good house maid at the Morgan house and attract no attention or trouble.