Fall from Grace - A very short story with illustration

 

It’s been forever since I posted something and unfortunately, right now, the best I can manage is something very short. A story like this should take 2-3 weeks but took  almost 6 months, plenty of ideas but my concentration is shot to pieces.

Thank you for your patience and please forgive any typos, grammatical errors, I've only re-read this once so  I'm sure I've missed a few.  

I'll replace  the image at the top with  new one in a few weeks 

Carrie

Fall from Grace

By

CarrieP

 

 

 

B

elow stairs in the kitchen, the sound of the servants’ bell pierced the silence. The housemaid, supervised by the housekeeper, Miss Stripelove, was at work polishing the silver cutlery.

 “The mistress’s bedroom.” the housekeeper said, looking at one of the numerous small  silver bells mounted on the wall.

The uniformed maidservant’s eyes met the older woman’s and a look of apprehension came over the maid’s face, the pleading eyes were met with a firm look from the housekeeper.

 “Two rings, the housemaid’s bell.” Miss Stripelove confirmed looking directly at the uniformed figure, “You don’t want to keep the mistress waiting, girl.”

The servant’s silent yet obvious plea continued to be ignored but only for an instant.

It was a now familiar reaction but deep inside the maid knew such an appeal would never be entertained and understood only too well that the even slight hesitation in obeying was frowned upon and would quickly incur the housekeeper’s displeasure. With a heavy heart and eyes downcast, the maid surrendered to the inevitable.  The worried look was quite evident to the housekeeper but it did not matter, a smile of satisfaction appeared on her stern countenance as she recognised the humiliation etched on the maid’s features. She stood in front of her charge and smoothed the skirt of the apron and adjusted the pinafore straps before standing back to examine the final result.

“No need to be anxious my girl, Madam understands that you are nervous but she is also confident that you are reasonably well trained and expects you will acquit yourself admirably.  It would be a shame to earn another demerit so early in the week.

“Oh no... please Miss Stripelove.” The maid blurted, knowing what this would entail.

“Turn around, girl.” The housekeeper ignored the pitiful supplication.“Mmm... yes quite acceptable. Your apron bow is adequately arranged and your stocking seams are straight...for once.”

“Thank you Miss Stripelove” the maid answered with the required curtsy and in a relieved voice, knowing there would be several demerits for uneven seams or a poorly knotted bow.

“I take it you have been practising.” Miss Striplove asked.

The maid nodded sheepishly.

“Good girl.” Miss Striplove said “You really are a quick learner.”

The words ‘good girl’ stung, as they always did, however, the maid repressed the urge to wince, having learned  the harsh lesson over the previous weeks that the merest hint of discontent was viewed as an act of ingratitude. Such displays were frowned upon and carried with it several demerits and the inevitable punishment with Miss Striplove’s cane or paddle. It was something to be avoided at all costs.

“ Now run along girl, we don’t want to keep the mistress waiting.” Miss Stripelove dismissed the maid with a wave of her hand.

 

 

 “Enter” Emily Du Barry answered the gentle knock on her bedroom door and her new housemaid entered timidly, acutely aware of the other women in the room.

“You...you... rang Madam.” the maid said bobbing a curtsy, the quiver in the voice quite noticeable.

“Come closer.” Emily said softly “No need to be afraid, the ladies won’t bite’”

The maid inched forward, eyes still downwards.

“My friends will be staying with me for a few days and it is best that they are aware of our...”she paused as she glanced at her friends “shall we say...arrangement.”

“Arrangement?”  Honoria Glossop repeated looking up from her magazine, her face showing a little confusion.

“What on earth do you mean Emily?” Margot Harper added, momentarily turning her head from the mirror where she was adjusting her hair “The girl is a servant, you employ her, there is nothing unusual about such an arrangement.”

A look of alarm came over the maid’s face.

“What is the matter, girl?” Camilla Dukebury said noticing the maid trembling “You look like you are going to faint.”

“It may be her time of the month.” Honoria said in a sympathetic voice, but the maid blushed at the remark.

Emily smiled as she took the maid’s hand.

“You see, Evelyn.” she said, clearly delighted at her friends’ reaction. “The ladies are convinced you are a girl. You should be proud of yourself.”

The figure standing in the centre of the room was becoming visibly unnerved with the attention  of these formidable matrons and attempted to retreat towards the door but Emily’s grip would prevented any movement.

“Convinced you are a girl!” Margot repeated, her face taking on a confused look, “You really are not making sense Emily.”

  “Of course she’s a ...” Camilla joined the conversation, but paused and as her eyes remained on the increasingly anxious maid she addressed her friend with a note of astonishment. “Did you call her Evelyn?”

The maid let out a low whine and tried to pull away from Emily’s grip but to no avail.

 “Yes girls.” Emily smiled at her friends “Evelyn...my nephew, surely you recognised him but then again, he does make a reasonable facsimile of a girl, so maybe it’s no wonder you were fooled.”

The women looked at each other; their faces lit up with astonishment and quickly moved closer forming a circle around him preventing any hope of attempted escape.

“Evelyn!” Honoria blurted as she touched the maid’s face.” Is that really you?”

“Surely not...oh yes...I can see it now.” Margot breathed as she stroked the maid’s hair. “Of course, he was never the most masculine of boys but... but...this, Emily...your...

“Your...housemaid!” Camilla finished her friend’s sentence, as she placed a finger under the servant’s chin and raised his head until his eyes met hers. "Extraordinary, quite extraordinary. I had no idea.”

“I would never have guessed.” Honoria concurred. “When you opened the front door to us I assumed you were just another new servant girl.”

Her friends now looked to Emily.

 “Several weeks ago,” she began her explanation “and not for the first time I should add, Evelyn found himself in a most indelicate position which unless addressed immediately and discretely would have severe consequences for him and would have been extremely embarrassing for his mother, my sister and your dear friend. As his godmother and aunt, I was asked to intervene and resolve the issue, which I did. However, as his indiscretions are becoming more regular and ever more serious I had to ensure there would be no future episodes of a similar nature. The harm to his mother’s reputation would be irreparable.”

She paused to allow her friends to absorb this information, but they were too engrossed in inspecting the increasingly mortified creature in front of them to respond immediately.

“He was such an angel as a child.” Honoria sighed, eventually breaking the silence, not taking her eyes from the unfortunate young man. “But as he got older he did become more wayward and unruly.”

“No doubt, the absence of feminine influence and control whilst away at school.” Camilla lamented wearily as her companions nodded in agreement “It’s no wonder the poor boy fell into degeneracy.”

“A girl would never inflict such despair and heartbreak on their mother.” Honoria said “I can see now why you took such drastic action. It really was the only practical thing you could do, Emily.”

“We should have thought of it years ago.” Margot added. It would have saved him from himself; it would be very difficult to get into trouble wearing a skirt and heels.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.”  Camilla said, as she lifted the skirt of his uniform to inspect what lay beneath.

Having his true identity revealed to these ladies, all of whom he had known since childhood, was truly mortifying but having them inspect what he was wearing underneath brought his humiliation to another level. However, despite his anger he knew better than to protest, weeks under his godmother and Miss Stripelove’s authority had rendered him quite docile in the presence of the weaker sex. He stood motionless, the rebelliousness that was such a part of his nature had been quashed the moment he first donned his humiliating new attire. His head bowed and resigned to his fate, he meekly allowed these women to examine the ghastly garments underneath his degrading servant’s uniform.

“I see you have been most thorough.” Margot said, hoisting his uniform’s skirt above his waist and revealing a black satin slip with a deep lace hem.”I’m sure such feminine garments make it very difficult for him to parade male pomposity.”

“Very pretty.” Camilla said as she raised the slip and added in an excited voice as she exposed his thigh length open-bottomed girdle with its six garters anchoring his sheer black silk stockings. “Oh yes...yes... how very appropriate.”

“I was wondering how he had such a feminine figure.” Honoria laughed and lifting his chin with her finger, smiled, “Quite restricting, isn’t it dear boy? I’m sure like all women you will be glad to take it off tonight.”

Her companions laughed at the remark, knowing from experience how true this statement was.

“Oh that never happens darling,  I insist he wears a night girdle just in case he has one of those horrible male emissions during the night." Emily informed her friend. “You know what little self-control males have.”

“So he has no escape from his foundations, day or night?” Margot blurted.

“How wonderful!” Camilla giggled.

“Every male should be made to wear a girdle at night.” Honoria added with a snort of derision “They are incapable of even a modicum of restraint.”

“Hence his night girdle, it is part of his training.” Emily replied as her hand slipped between his legs. “Isn’t that correct Evelyn, those dreadful male urges need to be curbed.”

It was becoming unbearable for the unfortunate young man.

The urge to run for the door was powerful but from bitter experience he knew that while he could flee the room, dressed as a primly uniformed housemaid, where could he go?  In such distinct attire, he would cut a most incongruous figure in the street outside and would quickly be exposed as a male. It was his worst nightmare. Of course, his godmother and Miss Stripelove knew this and so were quite assured he would never attempt an escape.  Displays of anger or frustration were not tolerated under any circumstances, manfully he had to conceal the utter indignation at his new station in life.  The tall and powerful figure of Miss Striplove was ever present , ensuring  he remained servile and obedient  at all times. Now was not the time to attempt any form of protest as Miss Stripelove would be summoned immediately at the slightest indiscretion  and administer the inevitable punishment in front of these ladies.

 He immediately recalled one of his futile attempts at rebellion at the beginning of his incarceration, this had resulted in a most humiliating and distressing experience which took place in the drawing room’s large bay window, in full view of the street. Luckily there were no passersby, although from his prone position he thought the two maids dusting in the house across the street witnessed the degrading scene as they spent an inordinate time at the window. Naturally, he had no wish to repeat the experience, particularly now that Miss Striplove seemed to be pleased with his progress and had somewhat softened her attitude, and was now almost quite pleasant towards him.

No, he reasoned it is better to swallow what little pride he still had than risk further humiliation.

He was aware all eyes in the room were fixed on him.

“Yes Madam.” he answered timidly and curtsied for good measure.

“Madam!” Margot repeated with a smirk “You really do have him well trained, Emily.”

“But did he...” Camilla began but her friend anticipated the question.

“Did he resist being put into a housemaid’s uniform?” Emily smiled and looked at her godson “Miss Stripelove does not countenance disobedience. Isn’t that correct Evelyn?”

“Yes Madam.” Evelyn whispered, eyes downcast in shame.

“Surprising what effect  a minute or two over Miss Stipelove’s knee has on even the most stubborn of males. Within ten minutes he was struggling  into his first girdle and the following day he was able to fasten his own brassiere and ensure his nylons were correctly attached to his girdle’s garters. And unlike a lot of servant girls, he has no difficulty tying his apron strings into a perfect bow. So to answer    your question, yes he is becoming quite the well trained housemaid.”

 All three ladies clapped excitedly like over-excited seals in a circus.

Although he had known for several days that he would be presented to these ladies as an appropriately uniformed housemaid, nothing could have prepared him for the moment of unmitigated shame when it finally arrived.  Under normal circumstances he would have taken delight in deceiving these women, he had done this many times in the past as it amused him greatly to demonstrate just how naïve and feeble minded the female of the species could be. He had now once again managed to trick them but this time there could be no delight in his deception, no gleefully display of male superiority over the weaker sex. The bitter irony was not lost on him.

This time it was he who felt the shame and humiliation when the truth was revealed.  Being mistaken as a female was mortifying but presented as a servant girl was utterly degrading.

 Inside his head, he wailed silently. A servant girl. Not even a member of my own class.

 The prospect chilled him to the bone. The sheer ignominy of being dressed as a female was utterly degrading but, attired as an uniformed housemaid, was the ultimate disgrace. How many times had he been overbearing to servant girls? Pinching a parlourmaid’s bottom, occasionally feeling a housemaid’s breasts. Now, he was the servant and at the mercy of these women, unable to move as their groping hands explored his most intimate regions, caressing his satin clad buttocks and examining between his legs with a touch that, despite his feminine appearance, and to his horror elicited a male response. Miss Stripelove found any display of masculinity repugnant but she reserved her worst punishment for any manifestation of swelling in the sexual organ.

“Oh...I see you still have notions of masculinity.” Margot said with a sly grin as she turned to her friends, “Feel his little thing struggling to break free.”

Camilla and Honoria took turns in placing a hand between his legs feeling his organ, despite being tucked snugly under his testicles, twitched at each caress.

They smiled knowingly at each involuntary movement.

“Evelyn!” his godmother snapped “How rude of you, you know girls do not behave in that sort of disgusting manner. I’ve told you before to control your clitoris at all times. You know what this means... Miss Striplove will be most disappointed.

“Oh no...not Miss Striplove... please Madam...I...” he pleaded.

“His clitoris!” the ladies shrieked in unison.

“Of course he refers to it as his clitoris.” Emily informed her friends “ Girls don’t have those ghastly penises .Isn’t that correct Evelyn?”

The unfortunate young man was close to tears.

“Now tell the ladies what you have between your legs.”

He could not contain his emotions any further, a tear rolled down either cheek, quickly followed by another. He knew the reply that was expected and also knew a refusal would mean the arrival of Miss Striplove.

“My... clitoris Madam.” he sobbed. “I’m sorry...please don’t tell Miss Stripelove.”

Turning to her friends his godmother asked,

“What do you think, ladies? Should I inform Miss Striplove. The  last thing we want is the girl fingering herself.”

“Oh I think the poor boy needs more guidance than punishment, Emily.” Margot was the first to speak.

“Girl.” His godmother corrected.

“Of course ...how silly of me.” Honoria agreed and brushing away his tears with her handkerchief added “As a girl, you need to be nurtured not chastised.”

He took comfort from the conciliatory remark and hoped he had escaped another humiliating paddling from the housekeeper however; the look on his godmother’s face was not encouraging.

“Yes, we have witnessed Miss Striplove discipline.” Margot said “Do  you remember Emily a few years ago I borrowed her from you  to train one of my servants, the girl was having difficulty in adjusting to life in domestic service. Needless to say after a few weeks the girl was transformed into  the ideal housemaid, obedient,  courteous, devoted to me and fastidious about her appearance.  She is now perfectly content to spend her life in my service.”

“Miss Striplove’s methods  can be extremely persuasive.” His godmother said with a smile as she caressed his cheek and turned to her friends, “Evelyn has been here only a few weeks and look how far she has come. Not the perfect housemaid, I grant you, she still has a lot to learn but in another few weeks he will barely remember her life before domestic service.”

The young man felt a chill run  down his spine and anxiously  clutched his apron to stop his hands from shaking. He saw his future flash before him, a life of domestic servitude, wearing the uniform of a housemaid, performing menial tasks, an existence below stairs under the constant supervision of Miss Striplove and only allowed in the company of his own class  when the maid’s bell rang. Panic began to take hold.

“He doesn’t look too enamoured with the idea.” Camilla observed.

“Please...Aunt... Madam...please...don’t ...I’m...”he blabbered incoherently, tears now flowing uncontrollably. ”

“I’m sure he’ll be a good boy from now on.” Honoria said.

Another time Evelyn would have berated her for referring to his as a boy, he was almost eligible to vote, but that was now the furthest thing from his mind.

“Boy!” his aunt laughed and fixed him with her pale blue eyes “He’s not a boy any more, are you Evelyn?.”

The young man cast his eyes downward

“After all boys are not housemaids?”she added with a smirk.

He was consumed with shame, he knew what she wanted to hear.

“The ladies are waiting Evelyn.” his aunt said, more than a hint of impatience in her tone.

“Please...please Aunt...”he began temporarily forgetting his lowly position, “...Madam, please don’t make me...

“Say it.” his aunt snapped, interrupting his pathetic plea “Tell the ladies what you are, or should I ring for Miss Stripelove to help remind you?”

He knew the reply that was required, he had been trained to respond to the question by the housekeeper but he had never uttered the words to anyone but his aunt and Miss Stripelove .

The mention of the housekeeper and what would surely follow if he failed to answer struck fear into him.

“I...I’m... a...girl...a ...servant girl.” he simpered and burst into tears.

 “Now that wasn’t too difficult, was it?” his aunt said her voice softening as she dabbed his cheeks with her lace handkerchief before continuing, “You have made wonderful progress, Miss Stripelove and I are pleased with your efforts although we suspect you still harbour those dreadful masculine tendencies and as we have just witnessed disgusting urges. However, we are prepared to overlook those as you are still quite immature.”

“Oh thank you Au...I mean Madam.” he blurted relieved that Miss Stripelove would not be summoned.

“I think you realise I have been very fair to you...”she continued,

“Oh yes Madam., very fair. ”he gushed.

“Please don’t interrupt Evelyn.” she gently chided him before continuing “As a result of your efforts and to demonstrate our faith in you , Miss Stripelove and I think you deserve a second chance.”

The announcement came as quite a shock and the expression on his face made it quite evident he was unsure of what he had just heard, and with his mouth agape, looked quite bewildered.

“Yes, you heard correctly.” his aunt smiled benignly “You may no longer consider yourself my housemaid...unless you wish to remain in that position.”

“Oh ...no...no...thank you... Madam.”he babbled.

“Aunt Emily.” she corrected him, confirming his restored status and  gestured towards a large trunk by the wall.

He immediately recognised it as his own, the ladies watched as he clutched his apron excitedly.

“Of course you will remain here under my supervision until your mother is satisfied you have learnt your lesson.” she advised him in a cautionary tone.

He barely heard her condition as he was far too excited to know that he would now be free of these dreadful female clothes and no longer treated like a servant girl.

“Of course Aunt Emily.” he answered, thrilled at his good fortune.

“Well you had better remove your uniform then.” she said.

Elated, he began untying his apron and laid it neatly on the bed and then it suddenly struck him he would have to undress in front of the ladies. However  he quickly decided this was a small price to pay and besides they had already seen his dreadful lingerie and foundation wear. He fumbled at the zipper at his neck before Marot moved to his rear.

“Let me help you, my dear.” she said “Girls always have trouble with zippers which is one reason we require a maid.”

The others laughed as she brought the zipper down and as he struggled out of his uniform dress. Aunt Emily opened the trunk for him.

“I’m sure you will be glad to wear something more appropriate.” she said motioning to the open trunk.

“But... I...I ...you said...”he stammered looking at the contents of the trunk.

“I think this will look wonderful on you.” his aunt said holding up a pink chiffon tea dress.

“But...I ...it’s ... “he continued to jabber incoherently. ”It’s...a ...I mean...

“Yes Evelyn a dress, and a very pretty one at that.” Margot said examining it.

“Dior, how very generous of you, Emily.” Honoria added as she also inspected the gown “Not every boy...oh dear there I go again... I mean girl, gets such a beautiful dress so young.”

Stunned and utterly deflated, the young man now clutched at his black satin slip to stop his hands from shaking.

“Oh if you don’t like this one there is a similar one in blue.” Aunt Emily said picking up a powder blue dress. You’re right this is a more manly colour.”

“But...Aunt...Aunt Emily ...I ...I thought now that I had learned my lesson I could wear own clothes.” he blurted.

“Wherever did you get that idea from, you silly girl.” she answered, turning to her friends with a broad smile before handing him the dress.

“I think what your aunt is saying, darling Evelyn, ” Camilla said guiding him to the full length mirror and slipped the dress over his head, “  is you still have a lot to learn.”

“I think a pearl choker will complete the look.” Margot said.

“We really must get his ears pierced.”  Aunt Emily said to a chorus of approval.

“And a new hairstyle.” Honoria added enthusiastically.

Panic began to take hold as the zipper tightened around his neck, the women fussed over him, fluffing the skirt of the dress and adjusting the bodice.

“Perhaps, Madam would consider a very full bouffant.” A familiar voice  as sounded from behind him.

 “It would greatly enhance his femininity.” Miss Stripelove said, as slipped silently into the room.

“But that style requires a lot of maintenance, Miss Stripelove.” Margot said as the housekeeper approached. “Lots of heated curlers every night, it would take a lot of time and effort.”

“Oh we don’t mind a little time and effort now do we...Miss Evelyn?” Miss Stripelove, now standing behind him smiled as she fastened the pearl choker around his neck and looking in the mirror saw a tear trickle down his cheek.

 

Another Caption Challenge

 

It’s been a while but I guess regular readers of this blog may  have an  inkling as to why that is. Unfortunately, I can’t say I’m in a better place but may well be by the end of the year.  

I have a very short story 90% written but I’m having difficulty focusing on completing it. Hopefully I may finish it in a few weeks.

Meanwhile the best I can offer is another caption challenge, just remember keep it to 100 words maximum and try not to be too explicit.

Readers of this blog have similar tastes to mine and I’m sure your imagination is better.

Why not let it loose on this.

Below is my view of what is going on in this image. It would be  great to get yours.

 Many thanks to Jennifer for inserting readable text into the image above.

 

Take care

Carrie

A Sissy in Satin- Readers Captions

 

JNYNJ and Jennifer suggested a caption for the image ‘A Sissy in Satin, both of which I think are very good. Reading these captions in the comment section doesn’t do them justice, so I’ve posted them below.  

Thanks to J for inserting the text.

Unfortunately, I’m still not in a good place and I’m sorry to say it will probably be a while before I can post anything. Hope you understand.

Carrie

Jennifer's Caption

JNYNJ's Caption

Caption Challenge

 

In the comments section of my last post JNYNJ came up with a really good suggestion.

As I’ve mentioned in previous posts I’ve been having difficulties in writing/posting a story for some time, and now this has  extended to even writing caption.

However, I have done some new images and JNYNJ asked if I’d post one of these and challenge readers to come up with a suitable caption. Readers of this blog have very similar tastes to my own, we all have the same fantasies so please don’t be afraid to express them with this image.

The image is entitled A Sissy in Satin. Very bland and not very imaginative I know but in my defense I have said I’ve been having difficulties writing.

There are only two rules –

1.       

Please keep the caption free of explicit language, I’m no prude and can have a filthy mouth but – there are ladies present in the image.

2.       And this is the real challenge- the word count must be 100 words max, as that is approximately the max I can fit into any image.

 

I have no doubt readers will come up with some great captions, please don’t be afraid to post them in the comment section.

 

Take care

Carrie

 PS I think if you click on the image it will enlarge.

Old Images- new captions

 

Apologies for not posting recently but I’m still not where I should be mentally.

The image above and the one accompanying this post are old ones that many readers may have seen before but with new captions. Thanks to Jennifer for inserting readable text.

 At the moment I’m finding it very difficult to compose another short story and although I have a few ideas, such is my lack of focus, I cannot concentrate for any length of time to write more than a few lines. Even a short caption seems to take an inordinate amount of time.

On the plus side I have composed a few new images, for some reason this is easier  than writing, and once I have decent captions I’ll post. Captions are ok but the old adage is correct- every picture paints a thousand words.

I wish.

Take care of yourselves and thank you for your patience.

Carrie

The Music Lovers - Part 2 with illustration

 

Hopefully you all had a good Christmas.

I'd thought I would have had this completed a few weeks ago but unfortunately it wasn't to be.

The illustration bears little association with the story.

Hope you have a good 2024.

Take care.

Carrie

The Music Lovers (Part 2)

By

Carrie P

 

“I take it you have heard, darlings.”Miss Crawford gushed, her excitement remaining undiminished.

“We came as quickly as we could; we have only a short time to prepare.” Emily Purkiss said, her face beaming. “The maids have taken our luggage to our room.”

“Yes, it’s wonderful.”  Henrietta Stifflove added.

The young man had stood up, as he had been trained to do, to receive the obligatory kiss on both cheeks from the women.

 “What a delightful perfume, my dear.”Miss Purkiss said, affectionately stroking his hair “Very delicate and floral. It suits you”

He could see Miss Crawford beaming with satisfaction as, just like his clothes, she choose what scent he wore every day.

 “I bought the same one for my niece.” Miss Stifflove added patting him gently on the cheek and smiling “You remind me so much of her.”

He cringed at her word, however, recent experiences told him that anything less than a display of gratitude and acquiescence would be frowned upon by all concerned. Consoling himself with the thought that the ladies did not mean any offence to his masculinity, he smiled dutifully, lowering his eyes, he replied in a manner he now had become used to.

“Thank you, Miss Henrietta.” he said in a soft voice.

“He is not as excited as I thought he would be.” Miss Emily Purkiss said.

“Oh I haven’t had a chance to tell him.” Miss Crawford said, the excitement in her voice now infected him and before he could ask the question Miss Crawford blurted,

“La Divina.”

“You mean...”he answered, his voice a mixture of disbelief and hope.

“Yes my dear boy...” she continued  “Maria Cabaldi.”

 “Cabaldi”the young man repeated softly and he looked to his hostess, his face incredulous as he uttered the name again “Cabaldi...here?”

“She is a dear friend and a patron of the Ladies Council,  but her itinerary rarely permits her to visit.” Miss Crawford explained to the young man who by now was visibly becoming more excited by the second. “However, now a window has opened in her schedule and she wishes to stay with me for a few days while she rehearses for her latest role.”

“Stay... here.” he gulped, his eyes widening and his mouth agape. His voice trembled as he continued.” I... I’ve always wanted to see her perform but to actually meet her...”

“She is such a steadfast supporter of the Ladies Council.” Miss Purkiss disclosed to him as she settled herself on the couch next to him and patted his knee.

“Yes.” Miss Crawford agreed as she took up position on his other side “I have kept her informed of our activities and she wishes to meet all the ladies for an intimate evening.”

“Do you think she will perform?” he asked hesitantly.

“Of course.” Miss Crawford confirmed with a broad smile. “She has even arranged a piano quintet for the evening. I think you will find the experience quite enjoyable. ”

To the young man, the word ‘enjoyable’ was utterly inadequate. After all this was Maria Cabaldi and to think he would have the opportunity to meet her in a private setting. He suddenly realised falling ill in the presence of these ladies wasn’t the misfortune he’d considered it to be.

“Ahem...ladies” Miss Stifflove said her tone muted and her face taking on a serious aspect. “The event is exclusively for the Ladies Council.”

The three figures seated on the couch looked at her with quizzical expressions.

“The... Ladies... Council.” Miss Stifflove repeated enunciating the words slowly, and gestured to the young man. “Am I the only one who see the problem?”

“Oh dear.” Miss Crawford sighed as she looked at her male companion. “Of course how could I have been so blind?”

“Mmm...yes...”Miss Purkiss said, a note of disappointment in her voice.

The young man’s eyes darted from one woman to the other, an uncomprehending look on his face. He knew something was wrong but such was his excitement could not grasp what it was.

“I don’t understand.” the young man finally blurted.

“Miss Cabaldi as patron of the Ladies Council understands she will be performing to an exclusively female audience.” Miss Purkiss explained with a regretful expression as she fixed a few stray strands of hair behind his ears.

“You see the problem, dear boy.” Miss Crawford sighed once more.

“But... Maria Cabaldi...here... I... ”he babbled, as the realisation that his dream of meeting his idol was being snatched from him.

The three women gazed upon him, their faces a mixture of pity and sorrow.

“Perhaps she would make an exception.” he pleaded, nervously fingering the snug fitting, heavy gold choker around his neck.

The ladies exchanged glances but he could see the look on their faces was not encouraging.

“If there is a crowd, she may not even notice.” he appealed desperately, the thought of his lifetime ambition ebbing away was creating panic within his brain.

“Oh my darling boy.” Miss Crawford smiled ruefully “She will want to meet each of the Ladies Circle individually and we will all be wearing evening gowns. Someone in trousers will immediately stand out like the proverbial sore thumb.”

“But...but... it’s ...”he stammered suddenly realising the impossibility of his situation.

“Maybe...” Mis Stifflove began, a curious expression on her face as she stood back slightly and scanned the young man for a few moments before finally adding, “no...perhaps  not. It’s a foolish idea.”

The young man felt a glimmer of hope spark in his brain and sat forward on the sofa.

“What were you thinking Henrietta ?”  Miss Purkiss asked.

“No, no... it is too outrageous.” Miss Stifflove replied, shaking her head.

“Please Miss Henrietta.” Claude implored, clutching at any straw that was offered.

“Well, the thought occurred to me,” Miss Stifflove continued, her eyes still examining the young man closely “we have all seen him wearing a nightgown, and in truth I think we can all agree, it did not look out of place on him and ...”she smiled at the figure on the sofa, “please do not take this the wrong way, my dear, but your chest does give you quite a realistic feminine silhouette. Not buxom by any stretch but adequate nonetheless.”

Even he could not deny the accuracy of that statement. He blushed, his eyes cast downwards in shame.

“Are you suggesting...?” Miss Purkiss asked a noticeable tremor of excitement in her voice.

“Dress him as a girl!” Miss Crawford interrupted, unable to contain her exuberance.

“Of course!” Miss Purkiss spurted excitedly “Why didn’t I see this before?”

“Perhaps, we just never saw him as one of those ghastly conventional males.” Miss Crawford said as her finger ran over his cheekbone and down to his lips. “Of course, anatomically he is masculine yet he never seemed to display the hideous characteristics of that dreadful sex.”

The sudden realisation of what was been suggested hit the young man like a slap in the face.

“A...g...girl...” Claude stumbled over the word.”But...I...it’s ...I mean...”

“Oh do be quiet, Claudia.” Miss Crawford spoke sharply, her brow furrowing slightly as the idea began to percolate in her mind. He hated the use of the feminine form of his name but dared not raise an objection, her eyes ran over his body.

 “Now, stand up.” she instructed.

He recognised the look on her face and he knew Miss Crawford well enough to realise she was actively contemplating this outrageous notion as a solution to the dilemma.

“Mmm...yes..yes, I can see certain possibilities.” she said as she gestured with her finger for him to turn around.

“It wouldn’t take too much effort.” Miss Stifflove mused as she came closer to him. “With the right make-up, mascara, eye liner, his face would take on an even more feminine aspect.”

“A little blush, maybe a smokey eyeshadow.” Miss Purkiss added.

“But...I...”he reached once more for the words to object.

“You do want to meet the most famous diva in the world?” Miss Crawford asked quietly as she sat down on the sofa and signalled him to join her and as he sat she added “not only that but you would be part of her entourage for three days.”

Even in his state of confusion he knew the answer to that question but the conditions attached were deeply troubling.

“Of course, of course, more than anything, but dress as a ...a...” he answered, a vision of the diva appearing  in his mind.

 “Naturally, no one is forcing you.” Miss Stifflove said in an indifferent tone.

Three days in the presence of Maria Cabaldi. The very idea made him giddy, he had worshipped her for years, never imagining his wildest dreams that he would ever meet her not to mention spending three whole days in her presence. But dressing as a girl...

“It would be our secret.” Miss Stifflove reassured him, caressing his cheek.

“And no one outside of this house would know.” Miss Purkiss added with an encouraging smile.

As the diva’s face seemed to flash in his mind, the doubts that lingered suddenly seemed to fade ever so slightly.

“Of course you will need some preparation.” Miss Crawford said, nodding to her companions who rose from their seats and crossed the room. Her words barely registered as his mind was now planning the first conversation with Madam Cabaldi, Miss Crawford continued, “And you may find it a little strange at first but I’m certain you will have little difficulty in adapting to your new role.”

He was awoken from his daydream as he heard Miss Stifflove’s voice addressing her friend.

“Darling, I know he’s wearing a girdle,” she said, holding a long stiff garment in a delicate shade of pink, “ but his movement is still slightly masculine, I have no doubt this will provide sufficient restriction to ensure a more feminine gait.

Her fingers held the formidable foundation garment for inspection, the wide straps holding the  delicate lace cups, below these  the long satin panel giving the impression of feminine softness while artfully  disguising the hidden steel boning which would restrict and shape  the unfortunate wearer’s  abdomen. The heavy and tightly meshed nylon at the sides ensured further constriction and control. The eight garter straps dangling from the bottom jangled as Miss Stifflove turned the formidable foundation around to reveal another long satin panel that ran the length of the garment.

 He let out an audible gasp and looked at Miss Crawford, he was silent but his eyes conveyed a desperate plea. However, as always she seemed oblivious to his discomfort.

“This is a long form corselette.” Miss Stifflove said, a smile forming at the corner of her mouth.  “It will give you a much more shapely figure, pulling in your torso and emphasising  your hips. It extends to just above your knees so will help you achieve a more feminine walk.”

“Oh he knows what it is.” Miss Crawford smiled knowingly a the young man.“Isn’t that right Claude?”

His cheeks, already flushed from embarrassment grew even warmer as Miss Crawford’s two companions gazed at him with curious expressions on their faces.

“Oh yes darlings.” Miss Crawford continued, patting him gently on the knee “Claude is extremely well acquainted with the contents of my foundation and lingerie drawers. In fact, he helps me dress when Louise is absent or busy running errands. He is such a treasure.”

Miss Purkiss and Miss Stifflove looked at him with renewed admiration.

“And of course, because of that dreadful mishap with his luggage he has none of his own underwear and  thankfully has become quite used to wearing girdles.” Miss Crawford said, smiling kindly at him before turning her attention to the sturdy foundation garment still dangling menacingly from Miss Stifflove’s hands. “Isn’t that the same style you zipped me into only yesterday Claude? But I think it was in black.”

His mouth suddenly became dry and he could only nod in confirmation, his eyes glazed over as the formidable foundation was held in front of him. To his constant shame it was a task he had been regularly been called on to perform in the past weeks. Louise always seemed to be running errands when her mistress needed her and as he was rarely out of Miss Crawford’s sight, she considered him the obvious choice to assist her. Naturally, he considered it degrading for a male to perform tasks that were exclusively within the realm of a female servant but could offer no argument against the sheer force of her personality.  Even as he carried out these embarrassing assignments, he could never bring himself to admit that attending to Miss Crawford’s personal needs were the duties of a maid. She, on the other hand, took every opportunity to remind him, in a tactful but nonetheless unequivocal way, that he was acting as a surrogate for her personal maid. She also ensured he was intimately acquainted with every aspect of her toilette. He soon became very familiar with her wardrobe, how her dresses were arranged, the manner in which her blouses were organised by colour and fabric, her skirts sorted by length and style, shoes by heel height. He tidied her dressing table, made her bed, ran her bath. And of course the most intimate of a maid’s duties- undressing and dressing her. From the outset she had no inhibitions and made little or no attempt to conceal her most intimate parts making it quite clear she made no distinction between him and Louise. Considering the unmanly style in which he now had to dress it would have been difficult to argue that there was a male present in the room with her.  

“Claude” a voice snapped him out of his trance. “Are you listening?”

“Emm... I...I’m not sure...” he mumbled as he now became aware he was now standing at the bed while  Miss Purkiss was busy behind him unzipping his pants.

He noticed the sturdy, stiff corselette was now laid on the bed ,Miss Stifflove holding several pairs of stockings  was distracted,deciding which shade  should  be worn.

“Your assistance Henrietta.” Miss Purkiss said and her friend immediately began unbuttoning his shirt while Miss Crawford removed his shoes, in a matter of seconds his camisole was also removed and his only remaining item of clothing was his girdle. In a pathetic effort at maintaining his modesty he tried to cover the small but reasonably developed fleshy mounds on his chest. This gesture brought smiles to the faces of the ladies.

“Oh, how adorable.” Miss Purkiss cooed.

“Yes, Emily.” Miss Stifflove concurred, “Truly delightful.”

“He does get a little shy when stripped.” Miss Crawford confirmed with a smile. “It’s a source of great amusement to Louise.”

“Please...I...I’m...not really...”he spluttered, the confusion etched on his face.

“Oh don’t be embarrassed, Claudia.” Miss Crawford said.

The wince on his face was now quite obvious at her use, once more, of the feminine form of his name.

“You do realise you cannot be called Claude once you are wearing your dress.” she said taking his hand in hers and squeezed them tightly as if impatient,  she looked him directly in the eyes and her tone became almost stern.”You must be addressed as Claudia, do you understand?”

He nodded.

“What is your name?” she continued her eyes holding his, her voice calm but still with an edge to it, “Say it.”

“C...Cla...Claudia.” he murmered, his voice betraying his mortification.

The three women smiled and their faces took on a maternal aspect as they gathered round him.

“This is a great opportunity for you.” Miss Crawford said softly as she caressed his cheek and continued in a comforting  tone.“How many people get to spend several days with their idol? The most celebrated and famous diva in the world. Some of my dearest friends have been waiting for years to meet her and fate has gifted you this once in a lifetime chance. “

And the only thing you have to do is dress as a girl.” Miss Purkiss whispered as she moved close to him and removed the arm covering his breasts.

“A small price to pay.” Miss Stifflove said as she handed him the corselette.

“Let me help you.” Miss Purkiss said as she took the bulky foundation and bending down placed one leg at a time inside it, the boning was so rigid the heavy garment stood upright reaching almost to his knees.

“You know what to do now.” Miss Crawford smiled “You have seen me do it countless times.”

He hesitated, his male brain still trying to process what was being asked of it.

“Oh do get on with it boy.” Miss Stifflove said sharply.

“No need to be so harsh with him, Henrietta.” Miss Purkiss gently rebuked her friend as she reached down and began pulling the corselette up his legs, stopping at his knees, she added in an encouraging, friendly voice, “The poor boy is confused, isn’t that right Claudia?”

He nodded,  despite the turmoil swirling inside his head he was also aware of his deep embarrassment, with nothing covering his chest, his hideous and unmanly protuberances  were on show for all to see.

“Now come along Claudia, there’s a good girl, you now need to pull it up yourself.” Miss Purkiss gently encouraged him.

“Yes, dear boy.” Miss Crawford said softly “You have seen me do this on many occasions.”

He tugged and pulled the tight corselette up his body and was conscious of the three women inching closer, so close he could distinguish each of their perfumes. Miss Crawford now stood before him, her eyes locked on his as she smiled as she cupped his right breast and placed it in the lace cup before settling the wide strap over his shoulder. She gently squeezed his left breast and repeated the process.

“That’s a good girl.” she whispered, noticing his eyes welling up she added tenderly, “No need to be ashamed, it will all be worth it. You know what happens now.”

Unable to speak, he once more nodded and averting his eyes he recalled with self- loathing how he had to perform this very task when her maid was absent. He vividly remembered how he carefully closed the many  hooks and eyes at the side of the corsellette before tugging at the at the zipper, struggling to raise it up the garment as it compressed her torso inch by inch, her groans audible proof of her discomfort as the zipper progressed to its destination. Each faint, yet clearly discernible moan a testament to the strength and mastery of the corsellete’s controlling authority. He could see  the heavy garment was visibly constricting and shaping her body and with each came another moan.

He swallowed hard at the realisation that it was now his turn to experience this hardship.

“Let me help you.” secreting his breasts into the lace cups before slipping the wide straps over his shoulders. He felt a strange relief that, at least now, his ghastly feminine breasts were no longer on show. It was only when Miss Crawford moved behind him he realised that the hooks, eyes and zipper were at the back of this style of garment and once encased in its confines, he could not be released from it without assistance. He looked down in apprehension and saw the corsellette almost reached his knees and stifled a gasp as Miss Crawford began her work in earnest, and as she fastened the first hooks and eyes he felt the power of the corsellete force his thighs together. As she slowly worked her way up the garment he could no longer suppress his distress and low whines of discomfort escaped from his mouth. The uncomfortable and cramped girdles he had been forced to wear were as nothing to the tortuous embrace of this dreadful constricting prison of satin and steel. His moaning was more audible now that Miss Crawford was tugging the zipper into place just beneath his shoulder blades.

“Males! They really have no idea of what we have to suffer on a daily basis.” Miss Stifflove laughed as she noticed his obvious discomposure.“And they call us the weaker sex.”

“Oh do try to be a little more sympathetic, Henrietta.” Miss Purkiss chided her friend as she guided the young man to the bed and knowing what was coming, lowered himself with some difficulty on to the bed.

It did not take her long to roll a pair of dark nylons up his legs and attached to the eight garters dangling from the corsellete. Miss Crawford slipped a pair of black patent leather court shoes.

“Two inches will do for a start.” she said. “He should graduate to four in a few days.”

“Now stand up dear boy.” Miss Purkiss instructed him.

“I think this colour suits him.” Miss Stifflove said as she held up a chocolate coloured satin slip with a deep lace hem and lifted it over his head and began fussing with the material until she was satisfied it hung correctly.

“Oh yes.” Miss Purkiss said excitedly “He is beginning to look much more presentable.”

“Yes.” Miss Stifflove agreed as she examined his features. “He seems to have acquired an even more girlish appearance.”

“It is quite amazing the effect a sturdy corsellete can have even on the most tomboyish of girls.” Miss Crawford laughed lightly, as she adjusted the straps on the satin slip and ensured the lace material at the top covered the brassiere part of the corsellete. “As we ladies know, foundation garments have a transformative effect on us not only physically but also psychologically. The confidence of control over our bodies, the constricting yet paradoxical  comforting effect of the steel boning tempered by the femininity of satin and lace.  Every woman feels ultra feminine when secured in their tight embrace. Is it any wonder that these very feminine sensations are now manifesting themselves on his already delicate features?”

“You do feel feminine Claudia, don’t you?” Miss Purkiss asked.

“Of course he does.” Miss Stifflove smirked “A corsellette, nylons and a satin slip, why wouldn’t he?”

By now the young man was on the verge of tears.

“I will not tolerate self-pity Claudia.” Miss Crawford said tersely, her forehead wrinkling in irritation “Neither will Madam Cabaldi. Now unless you wish to walk around for the rest of the day in your foundations and lingerie I suggest you help us chose a suitable dress.”

He knew from experience that it would not be long before her patience would be exhausted; he manfully stemmed the flow of tears as he watched her friends lay out various dresses on the bed.

“Yes, Miss Crawford.” he said quietly, trying not to wince as he viewed the array of feminine clothes.

“Good girl.” Miss Crawford said, softening her tone.

The word ‘girl’, just like being addressed as Claudia cut him to the quick but now dressed as he was, any protest or objection would have seemed absurd. The thought briefly occurred to him about changing his mind, he considered even those dreadful pants would be better than this. Then he remembered he could not get out of this hideous corsellette without help. A smug look came over Miss Crawford’s face, as if she could read his every thought. He averted his eyes from her gaze.

“I think this pale pink would suit him.” Miss Purkiss voice broke the silence as she held a dress against his body. “Such a feminine colour.”

“The yellow satin one would flatter his figure.” Miss Stifflove offered her opinion.

“Which one do you like, Claudia?” Miss Crawford asked, obviously aware of his deep humiliation, “Nothing too glamorous, I suspect.”

He nodded, if he had to wear a dress the last colour he wanted was pink or yellow, it could at least be a neutral colour.

I think this would be suitable, at least until you get used to wearing a dress.” She said as she slipped a dress of deep navy blue over his head.

The dress came to just below his knees and had a white Peter Pan collar and white cuffs at the end of very tight sleeves. She tied a wide belt around his waist, exaggerating his hips, giving him a more feminine silhouette.

“Yes, very suitable.” Miss Purkiss said smoothing the dress over his hips.

All three women were now gathered around him admiring their handiwork, making seemingly unnecessary minor modifications to the dress, tweaking the collar, straightening the skirt, fussing with the sleeves all the time telling him how neat and refined he looked.

The women were so engrossed in their ministrations and praise for his appearance that they were startled when they heard a voice call out  to them.

“Maria.” Miss Crawford squealed with delight and moved quickly to the newcomer, kissing her on both cheeks and then a long kiss on the lips.

“My schedule suddenly opened up and I decided to come early. I told the servants not to announce me as I wanted to surprise you.”

“And what a surprise.” Miss Crawford answered and as Miss Purlkiss and Miss Stifflove joined her, further kisses were exchanged.

Claude immediately recognised the impressive and unmistakable figure of the world’s most famous soprano now standing barely twenty feet from him. Mesmerised by her presence, he almost forgot his shameful predicament; however, his trembling fingers touching the soft velvet of the dress quickly brought him back to reality.  As the women continued to talk, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, there was only the merest hint of masculinity in the reflection staring back at him. The dark dress with its white collar and cuffs did not seem incongruous in these opulent surroundings, even the face and silhouette that inhabited the dress did not seem out of place. It was as if the reflection reminded him of something or someone but he could not quite put his finger on it. He suddenly became aware of the corselette’s constricting grip and he felt as if his very masculinity was being shrunk and crushed, its eight garters pressing into the flesh of his thighs. The support from the corselette’s padded brassiere exaggerated his breasts and gave him a distinctly feminine shape.

This is horrible. he said to himself, how I can allow myself to be presented to Madam Tabaldi dressed like this.

The combination of fear, dread and confusion that he had been suppressing since the arrival of Miss Crawford’s friends had now, in the presence of his idol, risen to the surface.

  I should never have allowed this to happen. he silently admonished himself,  I must escape.

The women began walking towards him, blocking his route to the door.

And dressed like this, go where? He knew the question was rhetorical but concluded that at  least it could not get any worse.

“I am so looking forward to meeting the Ladies Council.” Madam Cabaldi addressed Miss Crawford as the quartet approached. She caught sight of the primly dressed figure standing near the bed.

Her face took on a quizzical look and she turned to her friend.

“Is there a reason why she is not wearing an apron darling?” she said  “I noticed all your other girls are in full uniform,  properly capped and aproned, however,  this one is not.”

Surely she doesn’t think I’m a maid. Claude thought and stealing another glance in the mirror and was horrified to see what she perceived, a maid’s uniform without the apron and cap.

 Frozen with fright, his eyes met Miss Crawford’s and begged for reassurance.

If Miss Crawford was surprised by her friend’s remark she did not show it replying calmly,

“Oh, I’m sure it’s here somewhere.” Miss Crawford lied, looking around the room looking for the non-existent apron while she gathered her thoughts on how best to distract her friend. “I was thinking of changing the design of the maid’s uniform. What do you think of this new style?”

“Very smart. I like the way it is so fitted.” Madam Cabaldi said as she moved closer to Claude and to his consternation began fingering the material of Claude’s dress “But I do hope you will retain the cap and apron. After all, one has to keep up standards.”

“Naturally, darling.” Miss Crawford answered.

“Ah, this girl reminds me.” she continued, “My maid is unable to join me at the moment, could I borrow one of your girls to act as my maid.”

 “Of course. I’ll arrange it immediately.” Miss Crawford replied.

“What about this one here?” Madam Cabaldi said gesturing to the figure in the dark dress.

 “As your maid?” Miss Stifflove asked, the surprise quite evident in her voice.

“Only for a few days.” Madam Cabaldi answered “Just until my maid arrives.”

She looked at Claude and then turned to her friend,

 “But, perhaps I could offer you Louise, my own maid.” Miss Crawford replied.

“Oh no. I would not dream of it.” Madam Cabaldi said firmly “This girl will do.”

Under normal circumstances, being referred to as a girl would have gravely insulted Claude but dressed as he now was, even he could see why Madam Cabaldi had mistaken him for one. Worse still, she now considered him a servant girl.

 A low, barely discernible whine left Claude’s mouth.

“For some reason, she vaguely reminds me of someone.” she continued looking at him with a puzzled expression.

Several seconds passed as her gaze continued to penetrate Claude, eventually she turned to Miss Crawford and blurted,

 “Of course, my nephew. The same jaw line, very similar eyes, their mouths are also very alike.”

She turned to Claude,

“I do hope I have not insulted you, my dear, comparing you to a young man.” she said, smiling at him.

He shook his head, unable to speak.

“Ah yes.” Miss Crawford said “I remember now, a particularly effeminate young man.”

Madam Cabaldi nodded.

“We always wondered what he would look like dressed as girl.”

Miss Crawford turned to Claude and a smile formed at the corner of her mouth.

“Madam Cabaldi is staying in the Blue Room, Claudia. Run along and unpack her luggage. This is your first time acting as a lady’s maid, so be very careful with her clothes.”

He looked at her with a glazed expression but no words came from his mouth.

Her eyes narrowed and  fixed on his, her head tilted slightly and her mouth tightened somewhat.

She gestured with her hand that his presence was no longer required. A protest would have been useless. He moved slowly towards the door.

“Claudia.” Miss Crawford called out as he reached the door, “Make sure you get an apron and cap from Louise. I want Madam Cabaldi’s  maid properly uniformed.”

His heart sank and just as he was about to close the door behind him he heard Miss Crawford say,

“Maria darling, tell me more about this nephew of yours.”

 

The End.

 

The Music Lovers (Pt 1) with image

Below is the first part of a story I began writing last summer. This wasn't intended to be posted in 2 parts(90% is already written) but because of various circumstances in my life I'm finding it hard to muster enough concentration to finish it. I'll try to get the second part posted before Christmas.

Hopefully I may be able to post some images also.

Thanks for your patience and hopefully you may enjoy it.

Carrie

The Music Lovers

by

CarrieP

 

 

C

laude could not help but overhearing the phone conversation and his heart sank as the discussion progressed but he knew from bitter experience not to show it. A display of disappointment at the news that the Ladies Council was having another charity fundraising event would never be received well

Trying hard to conceal his dismay he concentrated hard and continued with his embroidery but as the conversation continued he somehow knew he would be involved in it. After all he was now considered an honorary member of the club. He saw Miss Crawford look at him from the other side of the large and lavishly decorated bedroom, fingering the long string of pearls that rested on her silk burgundy blouse, as the discourse continued amid mild peals of laughter.

“Wonderful news Emily, so exciting.” she gushed, a smile creasing her handsome face. “Short notice but we knew that already, I’m sure everyone will be able to come. Such a pity some of the other girls  will not be here.”

The young man shifted uncomfortably in his chair. The ’girls’ were the middle aged matrons of the Ladies Circle and although always very kind to him tended to treat him as an adolescent, almost suffocating him with their attention. As he admired his latest intricate stitching he wondered why they could not treat him as the mature, confident  male that he was.

 Listening to the call, Miss Crawford continued to smile until she spotted something amiss. Her fingers let go of the pearls and a mild scowl appeared on her face, she made a gesture with her thumb and index finger, narrowing the space between them. He understood immediately.

He instantly brought his knees together and cursed himself for such a lapse of concentration, hoping her obvious delight at whatever ghastly venture the Ladies Council was concocting would save him from a reprimand for a breach of yet another rule on decorum. She had so many;  it was hard to remember them all. His quick reaction was rewarded with a nod of approval and a smile, Miss Crawford now returned her full attention to her call. He surmised she must be in a good mood as there was no warning frown of disapproval.

The phone conversation continued in a more muted tone and as he was unable to follow the conversation he returned to his embroidery and his mind, as it often did these days, trying to make sense of how he had come to find himself in such circumstances. Here he was, a young man inexperienced in the ways of the world, now living under the watchful eye and stiflingly attentive presence of a very wealthy and powerful society matron.  To his surprise he was the only male in the house as all the servants were female even the chauffeur. Although, considering his attire, a grey silk shirt,  high-waisted wide leg pants in a bright lavender colour with wide pressed pleats, this fact would not be immediately apparent. His hair, on the insistence of his host, had grown almost to the base of his neck and did nothing to advertise his masculinity.  It was this last observation that occupied his thoughts as his fingers deftly created several stitches in the fabric.

How did I allow Miss Crawford so much control over my wardrobe choices? he brooded as he continued to stitch, pausing every now and then to admire his handiwork. His mind drifted back to the fateful encounter.

One of the highlights of his leisurely world tour was seeing Tosca in the city’s famed Opera House and although disappointed he could not secure a better seat he was nevertheless grateful he had managed to obtain ,albeit at an exorbitant price, a  seat in the high upper circle.

Cradling a glass of wine in one of the Opera House’s busy select bars and desperately trying to blend into to the plush surroundings he was suddenly jolted in the back and his wine glass emptied down the front of his trousers. The offender, an imposing and elegant woman turned to him, her green eyes slowly examining him from head to toe, her décolletage revealed  an expansive bosom, her generous frame no doubt confined by the necessary foundation wear  strained at the boned bodice of her peach taffeta evening gown. Hauteur exuded from her handsome, middle aged face as her inspection continued silently for several seconds.

Naturally, he apologised.

The smile that formed at the corners of her pink glossed lips clearly suggested approval of his display of deference. Within seconds he was absorbed into her entourage of equally glamorous women who fussed and bustled over his predicament. Several hands with monogrammed linen handkerchiefs were employed in an attempt to limit the damage, his thighs and groin receiving particular attention As the bell rang for the curtain he tried to extract himself from their ministrations but to no avail and was informed he would accompany them to their private box.  He tried to protest but the lure of a view from a private box compared to his upper circle seat made any objection seem ludicrous.  Once in the box he was given pride of place, seated so close between Miss Crawford and another formidable matron Miss Rathgorham their wide satin and taffeta skirts almost covered his knees. Before the opera had ended all of the ladies had taken turns sitting beside him, their hands resting on his knees and all too often straying a little higher.

Still giddy from the experience, he accepted an invitation to a late recital at Miss Crawford’s home. He remained  unsure of what happened next but it seems he fainted towards the end of the night, he later considered this to be the combination of excitement and a little too much champagne. The following morning, he awoke in unfamiliar surroundings. Stretching his arms he suddenly became aware they were encased in billowy, diaphanous chiffon. He removed the heavy satin pink quilt and saw he was wearing a full length multi layered feminine nightgown also in a delicate shade of pink. The soft material seemed to be so voluminous it covered almost half the bed.

Miss Crawford rose from a chair and approached the prone figure; caressing his cheek she explained he had become weak and fainted. Luckily one of the ladies in her group was a distinguished medical consultant and after examining him concluded that the young man was suffering from some unpronounceable condition. Miss Crawford told him he had been asleep for two days occasionally regaining consciousness before lapsing back into a deep sleep.

He recalled attempting to sit up as he protested about his feminine nightwear but was too weak to continue and fell back onto the bed. Miss Crawford gestured to the primly uniformed maid next to her, she effortlessly lifted his back and arranged his pillows so that he was propped up and fixed the heavy satin quilt in place. The room began filling with the familiar faces from the Opera House, each one showing great concern as they too caressed his face and stroked his hair. He suddenly had a horrible thought and he raised his hand to his chest. The ladies smiled but it was Miss Crawford that spoke and he still remembered the conversation,

“No need to be embarrassed my dear. I understand having breasts is not uncommon in a certain type of male. Perhaps it was the tightness of the binding that contributed to your weakness.”

She sat on the side of the bed and her hand cupped his right breast through the nightgown’s soft material. To his horror not only did he feel his nipple swell but the organ between his legs stirred also. Thankfully, the heavy quilt concealed this most embarrassing development. The protruding nipple did not go unnoticed by her friends who seemed somewhat excited at the sight. Noticing he was agitated by his ultra feminine attire Miss Crawford continued,

“Oh, your nightgown? I’m afraid there is no male clothing in this house, not even pyjamas, and we could not have you sleep naked, now could we? You should also know that while you were sleeping the doctor took blood samples and it appears you may also have some blood deficiency. Nothing too serious and she has prescribed medication most of which has been given to you intravenously so you may feel a little frail and debilitated for a week or two. Obviously you will need considerable rest to recuperate properly. I’ve asked your hotel to forward your luggage.”

Before he could reply he felt his eyes become heavy and he drifted into a deep sleep.

The next few days, or maybe it was a week or even weeks, he really wasn’t sure, saw a gradual improvement. However, his every waking moment was shared by Miss Crawford and her friends and when these were unable to be present, Frau’s personal maid, Louise, attended to his needs. Any thoughts he entertained of discarding his feminine bed attire were immediately dispelled with a gentle but clearly unwavering rebuke. His luggage had still not arrived and nakedness could not be tolerated. When he first caught sight of himself in one of the mirrors he was quite taken aback at the reflection. Unable to take his eyes away, he searched for some semblance of masculinity in the image. The several layers of voile and chiffon over a layer of satin made this difficult as his unmanly breasts nestled in the nightgown’s lace cups, giving him a distinctly feminine bosom.  His hair, which he had grown to below the nape of his neck and was now almost to his shoulders and now too looked  far too feminine. It was a dreadful sight and he was rendered speechless.

“I’m so glad you like it.” Miss Crawford said presumptively as she adjusted his breasts in their cups. “This nightgown is one of my favourites, so elegant and feminine.  I got it and several in a similar style for my daughter but she refuses to wear them, said they are far too girlish for her tastes. Can you imagine such a comment from one’s daughter? Such ingratitude!”

The maid smiled or perhaps it was a smirk he could not be sure. Miss Crawford, consumed by her own thoughts stood back admiring the sight before her; an appreciative smile broke out on her face.

“You simply must wear the matching peignoir.” she gushed “I think it completes the entire look.”

He wasn’t too sure what ‘look’ she was referring to but before he could raise any objection Louise had already slipped his arms through the long flowing garment, arranging it to her satisfaction ensuring the six pearl buttons at the bodice were secure, allowing the peignoir to drape itself over the nightgown. Another layer of femininity to add to his embarrassment, he thought to himself.

An objection began to form in his brain but his body felt incapable of any physical protest, Miss Crawford’s eyes fell on his and narrowed slightly. The message was subtle but quite clear; any dissent would not be tolerated. 

“Ah yes much better. He certainly looks better in it than Caroline would, Louise.” she laughed softly as she smoothed imaginary creases at his shoulders before her hands, once more, lightly touched against his small but jutting breasts. “Of course his bosom is not as developed but adequate nonetheless.”

“Yes Madam.” Louise added “I think those pearl hair clips you also bought Miss Caroline would be a perfect match for the peignoir.”

“Wonderful idea, Louise.” Miss Crawford said leading him to the dressing table.” The ladies will be here shortly and he really should look his best.”

 

A weary sigh left his mouth at this recollection of recent events, however, it did not interfere with his embroidery as he knew Miss Crawford would inspect his progress once her telephone conversation ended. He quickly regained his focus and completed the last petal on the rose design however, he still fretted over his lack of determination in not being more forthright with his temporary hostess.

I really should have been firmer with her. he rebuked himself silently as he finished a particularly difficult series of stitches. However, he was momentarily distracted as the left strap of his camisole slipped from his shoulder. He immediately laid down the embroidery hoop to adjust it as he it would only take a few seconds before his left breast would fall free, something that was certain to draw Miss Crawford’s ire.  Deftly reaching under his silk shirt, well it was actually one of Miss Crawford’s blouses, but he preferred to call it a shirt, he returned the strap to his shoulder ensuring it was  securely in place. His concentration now broken he became aware of the tightness of his girdle and grimaced as he felt the hideous garment compress his stomach.

Not even my own underwear, he moaned to himself, knowing that to voice such a sentiment out loud would arouse ire in Miss Crawford  I suppose I could not go without underwear... but a girdle.

Miss Crawford had told him she had asked his hotel to forward his luggage but apparently some idiot of a hotel clerk had it delivered to the airport instead of this house and he now had to rely on Miss Crawford to supply his clothes.

Quite intolerable, he cursed silently as he discretely wiggled his hips trying to seek some relief from  the stiff confines of the hideous garment. He sighed, eventually accepting there was no escape and surrendered to the girdle’s inflexible embrace. It transpired that the only approximation of male clothing available to him was some of Miss Crawford’s daughter’s pants which were, as one would imagine, decidedly non masculine with zips at the back or sides. However, it was either wear these dreadful items or float around the house in nightgowns and peignoirs. He considered this was not much of a choice.

Picking up the embroidery hoop once more he reflected that despite his illness and the horrible clothes he had to wear there were some things that made his enforced stay in Miss Crawford’s  home quite pleasant, even enjoyable. As he regained some strength the Ladies Circle had organised several music recitals in one of the several large rooms in the house. Each of these had featured internationally renowned sopranos and several famous  female string quartets, all, of course, were friends of Miss Crawford and the ladies.

 As he began another running stitch, he smiled to himself at these recent events. Being introduced to so many acclaimed artists was thrilling, even if a few of them mistook him for Miss Crawford’s daughter. Of course Miss Crawford’s friends thought this was quite endearing and began addressing him as Claudia which was truly annoying but considering the company he was now in, he quickly swallowed his pride.  He reasoned that this confusion of his appearance was because of the light make-up Miss Crawford insists he wore as she felt he was far too pale.  Despite his initial protests, he had to admit his face did look healthier and although  he still wasn’t keen on the pale pink lipstick he had to concede it was worth it. A small price to pay to be on such intimate terms with these great artists.

“Excellent news,  Claudia.” Miss Crawford gushed, her face beaming  as she put down the receiver and sailed across the room towards him.  Following a telephone conversation with one of the Ladies Circle, ‘excellent news’ was always a very subjective opinion.

He looked up from his embroidery and smiled. Frowning or any display of irritation was never received well.

“We have a very special guest later this week.” Miss Crawford blurted excitedly, her usual calm and reserved demeanour deserting her.

Special guests usually meant the Ladies Circle dressed in all their finery, a chance for them to display their latest designer gowns and flaunt their priceless jewels. Being the only male and without his own formal clothes he was compelled to wear something that was supposed to resemble formal masculine pants. Not unlike the dreadful pair he was wearing at this moment. Choices were limited and none were appropriate for a red blooded young man but as he had no male clothing he had little option. However, Miss Crawford’s guests were so famous, their talents mesmerising and captivating, he quickly forgot about the frightful clothes he wore. He considered the event in a few days would be a similar dressy affair, he speculated his evening wear would most likely be those hideously wide palazzo pants in some ghastly girlish colour with a matching diaphanous blouse with those awful bishop sleeves. He recalled Louise, Miss Crawford’s personal maid,  trying to convince him this revolting garment was a shirt worn by society’s  most fashionable young men. To him it was a blouse.  Miss Crawford seemed particularly taken with this outfit when she brought it, and several others equally distasteful, home from a recent clothes shopping expedition.  He quietly accepted that her enthusiasm meant he would eventually concede and he would wear the abominable ensemble. It was not as if he took this lying down. He had, after all, made numerous and repeated requests for male clothing but these pleas seemed to fall on deaf ears and as she got quite irritated if he pressed the matter, he quietly allowed the issue to slide.

Combined with this dreadful situation, another issue had begun to vex him. Miss Crawford had informed him  the medical advice was that he should no longer bind the fleshy mounds that protruded from his chest. Her alternative, much to his chagrin, was a camisole to conceal and support these embarrassing and unmanly characteristics.  However, he had to admit he did not miss the uncomfortable tightness of the wide bandages and as the weeks in Miss Crawford’s home passed he became less self-conscious and now, when dressing in the presence of Miss Crawford or Louise did not cover them with his hands. Of course, occasionally, these slightly plump protuberances were accidently touched by the women. This was always a little awkward, particularly as sometimes their hands would linger a little longer than he thought necessary.  

“I think you will be quite excited.” Miss Crawford continued, breaking through his thoughts.

He thought this guest must be very special as she did not inspect his embroidery as she usually would. However, before he could answer the door opened and one of the housemaids announced the arrival of two of Miss Crawford’s friends.

 T

o be continued.