Story: Florence, Lady Cranwell. Chapter 1.

by Jackie J

Florence, a delicate flower, sat in the window seat wearing her beautiful dress stroking her fingers through her long brown hair looking out over the extensive manicured gardens at the front of the house. Her eyes stared down the long gravel driveway to the main gates and the road beyond which stretched though the woodland and over Tory Tine hill. She sat there most morning after dressing and breakfast wishing for the vision of her dashing husband clearing the brow of Tory Tine and galloping down to be greeted into her open arms.

Of course, it would some time before she had the pleasure of her husband’s touch, the Regiment was overseas and Lord Cranwell, a Captain with the brave Hussars, was at camp in the Crimea awaiting orders.

Florence was twenty-three, her husband of two years being older at thirty-one. Almost three months since Jonathan’s departure and her thoughts drifted to the grand ball held in the main hall before he and his regiment had set sail. A main hall that now stood silent and empty of the smiles and laughter left behind.

Story: The Secret Slave. Part 9.

Unfortunately, SW, the author of The Secret Slave, has made a decision to take a break from this story. I think it is among the best published on this blog and it will be a shame if it joins the ranks of other unfinished masterpieces lingering around the web. For that reason, when he offered me to take over the story, I accepted gladly. After all, this is one of those plots that I've been thinking about for many years. Sophie's adventures are a long way from being completed so it's possible SW may return to the project, but for now it's my responsibility to do this plot justice. Your feedback and suggestions are important as ever.

The Secret Slave. Part 9.

by Camille Langtry

Sophie woke while it was still dark and laid on her narrow and uncomfortable maid's bed thinking of the previous night's events. How could she have behaved in such a wanton manner? A manner befitting a common whore rather than a proud daughter of the South as she had been raised? Yesterday's excitement had given way to dread. There was no denying that what she did was thoroughly wrong.  Worse still, she had no idea how to react when - rather than if - Philip took her to his room again, especially after her seemingly willing performance from last night!

If there was anything she could say in her defense it was that she just followed her mistress's instructions and wishes. That also gave her pause. Since when was she supposed to follow Elizabeth's orders or listen to her advice as if it was God's own will? Yes, she was playing the role of her slave, but they both knew it was just pretense. By agreeing to follow Elizabeth's lead to such a great extent wasn't she taking it way too far? Did she have to accept her friend's authority over her to such a terrifying extent?

What disturbed her even more was that deep inside she enjoyed what she did. No, "enjoyed" was the wrong word to describe what she felt when she got on her knees to pleasure master Philip. Was there even a word to describe this peculiar mixture of thrill and embarrassment, excitement and shame? This strange feeling of being under someone's control and, paradoxically, having a complete power over his excitement? All of this was novel to her and she had no idea how to react to her unfamiliar urges and budding insecurities.

Story: Mrs. Catherine Lucas. Chapter 20. Epilogue.

By Jackie J

Taken through into the lounge Michael sat opposite Pauline and nervously adjusted the hem of his dress over his knees.

Pauline stared at Michael, sipping her wine and letting him stew for a few moments before speaking.

Michael had been flattered concerning his en femme persona by Pauline and Camille, not like Jacqueline who had mocked him and, having witnessed first hand what had become of his lover and wife, he did not want to risk a similar fate, or did he? Michael had for years depended on physical bondage to satisfy his urges but this, this emotional and psychological control was no less erotic for him. Jacqueline Frobisher had tried the same with her blackmail to commence the subjugation of his wife but half heartedly. This was much more intense, more real. His lover, a smart, well educated, career women reduced to a simpering maid. His wife vivacious, rich and pretty was now the belted veiled maid of his neighbour. Michael was becoming uncomfortably hard within the restraint of his gaff and discreetly squirmed in his seat.

“So Michelle, I take it you are happy to save your own neck and comfortable with my ownership of your wife and Camille having your lover for her maid?”

Michael nodded and whispered his reply his lashes blinking.

“Yes, you said I could carry on as normal, that you wouldn’t say anything, you can trust me.”

Story: Dancing With My Soul. Chapter 6.

by Andy Engines

The water was freezing as we plunged the sheets into the stream and then out to scrub on the old flat rock at our side. I had learnt to work hard and fast to get blood flow into my fingers and yet every time we did this the old woman would look and laugh.

“Cold yes?” her eyes shined in amusement as we scrubbed and she talked on, some words coming clear but the rest a blur. I was getting proud that I could just about follow her monologue if she kept to simple words and didn’t change the subject once I had grasped what she was talking about.

“Yes… Cold… fingers… cold.”

Her eyes crinkled up and she guffawed loudly in pleasure at my words. It was a beautiful day and the sun was still low in the sky as we scrubbed and washed.

Story: Mrs. Catherine Lucas. Chapter 19.

by Jackie J

Seated at the dining table Pauline smiled at a nervous Michael Lucas sat demurely in his female attire gently pushing back his hair. He wasn’t female of course but with his natural fine features, slender frame and Pauline’s expertly applied makeup, especially to his eyes, one would be being highly critical if not to think he was not a she and a pretty she at that.

All eyes turned to the opening door the three expressions of the diners contrasting markedly. For Pauline and Camille it was a soft smile of expectation, for Michael it was a look of controlled disbelief.

Michael had seen Jackie many times in her maid’s regalia, working and serving under the pretence of being the maid of the Lucas household, but she had never looked quite right in the dowdy uniform with her long flowing hair, expensive makeup and manicured nails it was always a thin disguise but now she truly did. There could be no mistaking the girl who entered for what she was, a maid!

The transformation of his lover, work colleague and co-conspirator at the hands of Pauline and Camille had been total. The shuffling submissive gait, her hair cropped short beneath her cap, devoid of makeup, a sullen, vacant expression and her crisp uniform a fitting adornment for the girl within.

How Would You Like to Be the Maid?

Courtesy of Summertime's wonderful blog. I always knew that lady-to-maid fantasies were very popular in the Victorian and Edwardian period. Now I have proof. This has to be the world's first known lady-to-maid caption!

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Teach Your Foreign Maid Some Manners!

I think that de-education (including losing one's manners and cultured speech) is an important element of lady-to-maid stories. I've read countless pages on Victorian-era etiquette and working-class dialect to make Lady Georgina's transformation into a low-class servant in Her Most Remarkable Performance as believable as possible.

As I am working on a Molly Saga expansion/sequel/prequel all in one, I've come across an interesting site for a Filipina maid agency that offers some eye-opening advice on how to teach one's maid to behave. The page is called Teaching Your Filipina Maid Good Manners and Right Conduct. So far so good. After all, it stands to reason that a Filipina maid may not be accustomed to some of the customs of a family that she works for. Furthermore, I am pretty sure that many of the maids did not attend a finishing school and will have trouble with their spoons and forks at a Buckingham Palace dinner, but the list of "donts" is so extensive (and probably excessive - "say sorry and thank you when applicable", really?) I couldn't help but imagine a heroine of a lady-to-maid story gradually (and deliberately) learning all these bad habits from her maid friends to fit in better.

Needless to say, the wonderful world of political correctness is yet to reach the warm shores of South-East Asia, so please don't be shocked but some of the suggestions that even writers of 19th century manners books did not include as too obvious. Here's the 20-point list for your enjoyment. I know I'd be using some of it for my upcoming story!

Story: Dancing With My Soul. Chapter 5.

by Andy Engines

“The Chief Inspector has decided to hold Miss Van Den Berg for further questioning and he requested Inspector Novak to come and inform you of Miss Van Den Bergs temporary confinement.”

Marije had been gone for two hours when a banging on the door startled me and warily I looked into the spyhole to see the inspector and translator standing outside. We now sat facing each other in the lounge.

“Confinement, I don’t understand… and who is the Chief Inspector.”

“Sorry Miss Zuzic, my English isn’t perfect…” She turned and conferred with the inspector again before turning back to me. “Confinement is wrong, sorry. I believe what I am trying to say is Miss Van Den Berg is making a second statement and may be delayed until tomorrow. I can assure you she is perfectly well and she requested the Inspector to tell you this. And the Chief Inspector is Inspector Novak's superior, naturally.”

I was getting more worried as each word left her mouth. I could feel my fingers start to tremble.

Story: Mrs. Catherine Lucas. Chapter 18.

by Jackie J

Michael sat for what seemed an age waiting for Pauline to return, stunned by the revelation that Jacqueline, his lover, was now the maid of one of his neighbour’s friends. He had been shown the pictures of Jacqueline’s debauchery, he knew she had been summarily dismissed by the company for that but it just didn’t make sense! Jacqueline, now an actual working maid... And why had she not been in contact with him, what went wrong with their scheme that was going so well? Had Catherine found out about what Jacqueline and he had planned, is that why she is not answering his calls and where is she? Michael’s mind churned sat waiting for Pauline to return nervously sipping on his wine.

At the door Pauline embraced Camille and they lingered over a welcoming kiss, Camille slipped from her coat and giggled seeing Pauline dressed in just her slip.

“No dress this evening then, Pauline?”

Pauline giggled with her friend and smiled realising that Michael’s dress that she had been wearing was now back draped around sweet Michelle sat quivering in the lounge.

Camille pointed to her maid stood by the door.

“What shall I do with this?”

Story: The Secret Slave. Part 8.

by SW

When the shopping party arrived back at Cypress Hill the ladies immediately freshened and changed in their rooms and then repaired to the porch to sit with cooling drinks.  After assisting their mistresses toilette and serving lemonade and cakes Rosa and Sophia were told to change to work dresses and return at once and, when they did so, Mistress Caroline ordered, “Sophie, come kneel by me girl.  You can rub my feet - they are aching dreadfully after town and Rosa, you see to Miss Elizabeth.”

Sophia moved to do as bid and as she knelt and leaned to massage Mistress Caroline's finely sculpted ankles, feet and toes she became very aware of Elizabeth's watchful gaze as she performed the 'devotion' and she tingled with excitement.  The brass ring about Sophia's elegant neck glinted in the sunlight and Elizabeth remarked, “I wonder if you might have the slaves wear their nice bright collars for the party on Saturday Caroline, they would match their new yellow dresses delightfully I'm sure.”

Sophia glanced furtively to the other girl, who knelt at Elizabeth's feet, to see if there might be a reaction expressed upon her countenance but she worked dutifully and comported herself without any visible reaction - not even when Mistress Caroline returned:

“Yes dear, I was thinking the same.  They do suit them so; each of them shall indeed wear a collar,”  then speaking down at Sophia she continued, “You will keep it on until after the party.  There's little point in removing it now just to replace it in two days time.”  Sophia nodded and replied, “Yes'm Mistiss Caroline Ma'am,” and she thrilled, for she found the wearing of the collar to be most intoxicating and arousing.