Story: It Wasn't Right. Chapter 11.

by Jackie J

Given no suitable Mistress could be found, that would be willing to take Milly Brannigan to be their trainee personal maid, Mrs Burtonshaw had proposed to fill the void and train Milly personally. There would be no shortage of positions available for Milly Brannigan to be a lady’s maid, once trained, conditioned and mentally prepared for such a position. Mrs Burtonshaw intermating that given the training went well, and she was sure it would, she already had one such position in mind for Milly.

If I wished to proceed and be trained to be a true lady’s maid by Mrs Burtonshaw, meaningful authenticity would be paramount. Mrs Burtonshaw used those words repeatedly when she initially told me of her proposal.  Crestley House was obviously out of the question, being too familiar and distracting. Mrs Burtonshaw’s residence was at best modest, not at all suitable for a Mistress and her personal maid. Also, Mrs Burtonshaw was not wealthy, and a mistress could not be going cap in hand to her personal maid for funds, could she? Mrs Burtonshaw had the answer to resolve all these matters, to create the authentic environment for a mistress and her maid. For the Mistress to have access to the wealth that will reflect her position and for her maid to only have access to what she is given and no more. To experience the true dynamic of being the personal maid of a mistress, a maid must first understand then accept that she is totally dependent on the benevolence of her Mistress. There can be no pretence in this dependency aspect, which will be the cornerstone of the training, how else can meaningful authenticity to be achieved?

Story: The Bridge Player

Inspired by the classic 1960s Bunty cartoon, The Imposter. Please welcome a new blog contributor, George. 

The bridge player

By George (G.T.)

Victoria Perkins lived in a small country mansion with her parents. She came home from a private boarding school just two weeks ago. She had barely seen her parents for years. In addition to them, the house was inhabited by a butler, a cook, a housekeeper, and a maid. With the exception of the young maid, all employees were at least fifty years old.

Someone knocked on her door in the morning. The maid asked permission to come in to put a fire in the fireplace. Victoria didn't want to get out of the good warm bed into the cold room. She watched the maid work. Her black dress reached to her ankles. The sleeve of the dress ended in a tight white cuff at the wrists. She had a tight white neck strap around her neck all the way to her chin. Maid Mary was embroidered on it. A white maid's hat covered her hair. She wore simple little hoop earrings in her ears. Her white apron reached almost to her neck. Two wide shoulder straps go to the apron's back. In the back she tied the apron around her waist with a big bow. Anyway, Mary was like her. The girl's age, stature, face, even eyes were similar to Victoria's. There was only one difference. Mary's hair is straight and Victoria's curly. Victoria knew this from the fact that Mary's cap had once fallen as she scrubbed the stone in the hallway. The housekeeper immediately struck her with a wand from punishment.

Story: Kristina's Holiday Week.

By Kristina Katyn

Author's Note:

 "I wrote this story together with my friend Peter242 as a follow-up to our other Kristina stories.  Peter242 has written other stories too.  For myself, I have worked as a domestic cleaner in real life for a number of families and busy professional ladies.  We hope you enjoy it."

Kristina smiled to herself as she wheeled Mrs B’s suitcase into the house, knowing she was going to be skivvy for the week for both Heather and Mrs B, and she was happy to do so.  It was slightly strange, given that the rather dominant Heather was twenty-four years' old compared to the submissive Kristina’s thirty-four, and Kristina knew that Mrs B was fifty-something.

Heather had instructed Kristina to take the week off work so she could serve both Mrs B and herself for their holiday week, which Kristina was more than happy to do as she was drawn to the domestic servitude lifestyle and much preferred the prospect of that life to her primary job as a well-paid but stressed corporate lawyer.

Mrs B had been for a while Heather's dad’s girlfriend.  They had met four years ago, and well after Heather had bought her own place, but her dad asked Heather to be friendly to her and even call her "Mum".  Heather was happy to do that and even after the relationship ended Heather and Mrs B remained friends and as Heather had got used to calling Mrs B Mum, she continued to do so.  They liked to go away on holiday together and, like now, often stayed in the other’s home for a holiday break.

Story: Leah's First Day.

By popular request, the sequel to Inanimate 77's Bridal Shower is finally here!

by Inanimate77

Leah stood silently for a few minutes as the Uber driver sped away leaving her alone in front of the Davenport Estate.  After her last experience, Leah had sworn that she would never return to this place.  The entire episode felt rather bizarre, and quite honestly, she still had a hard time believing it had happened.  Somehow Leah had found herself mistaken for the help while attending her good friend Charlotte’s bridal shower.

In hindsight, Leah should not have been so concerned about Lady Davenport.  The young professional woman had really wanted to make a good impression on her friend’s old money mother.  Her plan to do so really never had a chance.  Lady Davenport would never accept Leah because of her lineage.  No matter how much education she attained or how much professional success she experienced, Leah would always be seen as lower class.  It was simply the way of things. 

The entire ordeal had almost ended in disaster, but being a true friend Leah acted the humble part of house servant in order to not cause her friend embarrassment.  When Charlotte had found out, she was truly horrified.  Charlotte and Leah had been roommates in college, and unlike her mother, the young heiress did not ascribe to her mother’s views on social class.  She was at school to find educational enlightenment with the hope of making a difference in the world.  Despite being from very different backgrounds, the two girls had become close friends.

Story: It Wasn't Right. Chapter 10.

by Jackie J

My duties for the day finished I sit on my bunk and remove my boots with a sigh. Instinctive now, I wipe the boots down and polish them back to a shine. A maid must never be seen with dirty or dull boots. I chuckle to myself at the disciplines, like the cleaning of my boots, that I have adopted over these past months, whilst indulging my fantasy to be a working maid. Pretence at the outset for sure, but now such traits have become second nature, the curtsy, my lowered gaze, speaking only when spoken to, doing what I am told, when I am told, how I am told, without question. After years of making decisions, guiding my own destiny, these past months I have been freed of all such burdens, living a simple, respectful, submissive, almost anonymous existence to which I have become accustomed and accepted. A life, despite the privations that I have experienced, I cannot help myself from still wanting to live.

Stripped and washed I lay on my bunk in thought.

Not for the first time, I consider how fortunate I was to have been found like I was at Crestley House by the temporary housekeeper, Mrs Burtonshaw? Fate, I guess. I paid her well for what she did with me, to me, keeping me aproned like she did, having me for her maid. Then organising for me to become one of her Mayfair maids, finding me a position at Bracken Hall a common maid. giving me a new identity, Milly Brannigan, how well she understood, understands my strange desires. Even earlier today, before she left, although my time a maid almost at an end, putting me in my place.

“Mrs Burtonshaw or Miss to the likes of you Milly Brannigan.”

Story: It Wasn't Right. Chapter 9.

by Jackie J

I don’t sleep well; I don’t sleep well at all.  For a second night I cannot get Lady Carrington, and how she makes me feel, out of my thoughts. I have to force myself to remind myself of who I actually am, who I really am. This isn’t right, I know it isn’t right, I know this must stop, I must get back to Crestley House, get back to my life or I will surely lose my mind?  

Jenny is already awake and getting dressed and soon, so am I. Boots to my feet I stand and tie the tapes of my apron into a neat bow at the base of my back. Whatever my denials and mental torment of the previous night, swathed in my cocoon of servility, my waking thoughts are only those of Milly the maid, Milly Brannigan.  Morning trays are prepared in the kitchens and, Rosy and I deliver morning tea to each of the guests’ rooms. I collect my last tray and standing outside Lady Carrington’s room I knock, enter, and curtsy.

“Your morning tea ladies.”

Story: It Wasn't Right. Chapter 8.

by Jackie J

The letters that Mrs Burtonshaw had her maid Milly write duly arrived at their addresses.

Janice, having spent the past week preparing Crestley House for her Mistresses return, read the letter she had received with mixed emotions.  Disappointed her Mistress would not be returning but pleased that she had met someone. No detail but travelling abroad sounded as if at last it was a relationship that could lead to something permanent. Provision had been made with the bank for her to access additional funds and, with no mention of when her Mistress would return, Janice reconciled that she would just have to wait until she did.

The bank manager, on receiving Miss William letter, instructed his assistant to make the necessary arrangements and prepare a letter of authority for Miss Janice Renwick. Whilst giving her housekeeper access to her main accounts, he trusted that Miss Williams knew what she was doing and, with little concern, he would be retiring at the end of the month anyway, filed away the correspondence. 

Any reservations that I may have held about remaining a maid at Bracken Hall are forgotten settling the arriving guests for the gala weekend into their rooms with Rosy.