Maid for the Role- New story and image

 

 

Below is a new story based on a recently posted image- Maid for the Role.

I toyed with the idea of changing the title but for various reasons ultimately did not,  I did  change the names however– poor William is so traumatized from his various feminisations he  deserves a break. Although, I expect his mother-in-law has kept him petticoated, girdled and firmly under her control in anticipation of his next appearance.

This was intended to be quite short but as usual it took on a life of its own and if I was to wait until it was finished it would probably be another few months as – like everyone else-  time is quite limited and much as I’d like to I just can’t give it the attention it deserves.

So, rather than wait that long I’ll post it in separate parts, I’ll do my best to post the next part as soon as possible but realistically, because of time issues,  it may be several weeks.

I’ve reread this twice and think I may have corrected all the typos/grammatical errors but if not please let me know as such errors really bug me.

I now know there are obstacles in accessing this blog which really annoys me so  I am very grateful for those who still do stop by and  hopefully you will  enjoy this latest offering.

Take care,

Carrie

Maid for the Role

By

CarrieP

P

aralysed with fear and self-loathing he did his best to ignore the loud knocking on the bathroom door until finally the familiar and distinct cut glass tone emerged through the dense fog in his brain.

“Edward, darling boy.” The female voice from the other side of the door was calm but with an unmistakable hint of impatience. “You know you will have to come out at some stage.

He maintained his silence, his mouth dry with dread.

The voice called out once more and this time there was no hiding the distinct and cool tone of mounting intolerance.  There was a pause before he heard the ominous words in an extremely brusque tone.

“And the sooner the better, young man...” there was another short pause “before I lose my patience.” The voice belonged to his prospective mother-in-law, Sophia Glenstall, or as he had been conditioned over several months to address her- ‘Mother’.

It was something he resisted at first but her unrelenting perseverance and pestering combined with Rebecca’s cajoling and gentle coaxing not to mention her promises of intimacy when Mother was absent finally wore down his stubbornness and he relented. Although, each time he addressed her as ‘Mother’  he thought he could feel a small part of his masculinity slip silently away but at the time Rebecca’s favours compensated and comforted him. 

That was several months ago and he now bitterly regretted not resisting more forcefully. The repeated knocks on the door wrenched him back to reality.

Mother losing patience with him was the last thing he wanted and glancing in the full length mirror the knot in his stomach tightened another notch. He had worked so hard and now sacrificed so much for her approval, it would be extremely foolish to succumb to his masculine pride and lose this hard earned and vital goodwill at this stage. His reflection confirmed his feelings, of course it was humiliating but it would only be for a few weeks and surely the ultimate prize, marriage to Rebecca, would be worth it in the long run.

Surely... He repeated trying to convince himself...surely, however, in retrospect it was more in hope than expectation.

Now he had to live with the consequences.

Taking a deep breath he unlocked the bathroom door and with great trepidation emerged into the elegantly appointed master bedroom of his future mother-in-law.

A full length heavy pink satin dressing gown embroidered with her initials on the quilted lapel hung snugly from his shoulders and seeing the smiling handsome woman sitting on the bed he felt his knees tremble and stood rooted to the spot. Now that had appeared and suitably attired she looked quite relaxed, sitting on the bed with her navy blue satin calf length skirt draped over her crossed legs, the crisp white silk pussy-blow blouse allowing a glimpse of her satin brassiere straining to contain her breasts, her perfectly coiffed hair framed an attractive face.  

She remained silent but as her smile widened, she beckoned him to her.

Once again fright took hold and his feet refused to respond.

“Edward!”  she snapped.

It was enough to spark the required reaction and as he made his way across the deeply carpeted floor he could hear two soft but distinct sounds quite clearly. The first was the heavy satin material of his robe swishing softly around his ankles, the other was one he had only ever heard from women as they walked, it was the faint yet well-defined sound of nylon brushing against nylon.

To his shame it was his legs that were generating these subtle feminine noises. As he approached her, his heart quickened, with undisguised horror he saw the array of female clothes laid out on the burgundy coloured satin quilt. Standing out from the entire range of feminine finery were two items that caused his anxiety levels to rise steeply. A pink satin maid’s uniform nestled next to a multi layered frilled petticoat.

His audible gasp made her smile even more.

His heart sank but he knew deep inside he had little choice.

 It was time to deliver on the promise he had made and he immediately realised just what an incredibly stupid and reckless pledge it was, in the short time it took for him to traverse the space between them he his mind replayed the events that had led to this shameful situation.

So eager was he to impress his future mother-in-law and gain her admiration, that when he heard one of the participants in her amateur dramatic production had unexpectedly dropped out and there was no one else available to understudy, he impulsively volunteered his services. Naturally, and as he’d hoped, this was greeted with delight and enormous gratitude by both her and Rebecca. He too was delighted that this magnanimous gesture had its desired effect, that is, until he was made aware that the role was that of a maid servant. Obviously he had made a mistake and he could not be expected to take on such a role. However, when he tried to weasel out of his commitment he was reminded in stark terms that his word was his bond and besides as there was no understudy the entire production now rested on him. From the time of Shakespeare, the theatre had a long tradition of boys, particularly pretty boys, taking on the role of a girl. He was also assured, much to his disgust and abhorrence that his features were reasonably feminine and with the right make-up, clothes and sufficient practice he would quite easily pass for a woman. As Rebecca’s mother observed at the time, “perhaps not beautiful in the true feminine sense but reasonably attractive nonetheless.”

Worse still, she explained that in order for him to ensure authenticity both as a young woman and a servant he would be required to remain in the role until the opening night of the play. Of course he objected, well...abjectly pleaded would be more an accurate description of his tearful supplication but to no avail. It was quite clear that if he refused both she and Rebecca would take an extremely dim view of his reneging on his promise. Such a reversal brought with it the distinct possibility that such a decision would spell the end of everything he had hoped for and despite grave misgivings about the role foisted on him, he was not prepared to take that risk.

With a heart full of shame, regret and not inconsiderable apprehension, he had quietly resigned himself to his fate and agreed to honour his word.

Now standing in front of her dressed as he was, bitterly regretting his rash and ill-considered offer, his emotions welled up inside and although it did not go unnoticed she showed little empathy.

“Oh do stop snivelling Edward.” she snapped but pausing for a moment, she then regarded him with a thoughtful expression and immediately relented, adding in a lighter tone, “Although I suppose we should be pleased, after all, it is in keeping with the way a girl would yield to her emotions. Now dry your tears dear boy, and don’t forget you are doing us a great service, neither I nor Rebecca will lose sight of that. It’s just such a pity she can’t join us just yet but rest assured she will return in the next few days.  She will be so proud of you.”

Despite the shame of his dreadful circumstances he took great solace in her words, at least his sacrifice had been for nothing.

“Now remove your robe and let me see if you have managed to follow my instructions properly.” she said, a slight tremor creeping into her voice.

It was the moment he dreaded but knew would eventually come, eyes cast downwards and hands trembling he untied the robe’s belt and opened it for her inspection.

“Remove it so I can see if everything is in order.” Rebecca’s mother urged, her tone betraying her suppressed excitement.

He let the robe slide from his shoulders to reveal his a long girdle reaching from just under his ribcage to mid thigh where six garters anchored sheer flesh coloured nylons. A long line brassiere with wide straps and lace cups covered his chest.

“Oh...oh... yes...oh yes...”she whispered, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of the young man clad in her very own foundation wear, “Wonderful, even better than I had hoped for. I can see now you have been paying attention.”

Ever since he had foolishly agreed to participate in this degrading enterprise she had insisted that he be in attendance in her bedroom when she was dressing in order for him to witness at first hand the various items of foundation wear, hosiery and lingerie that women wore and more importantly how to put them on. Naturally, Rebecca, before her departure, was most encouraging as such instruction would greatly help him with adapting to his new role and gave her blessing to the project. Being a graduate of the Royal School of Dramatic Arts, like her mother,   she was most enthusiastic that he should immerse himself in all aspects of the process insisting it would greatly enhance the authenticity of his part which would in turn ensure the success of the play. Dejected that she did not take into account the utter humiliation he would have to endure for the sake of a performance, he nevertheless succumbed to her pleadings , not to mention her mother’s veiled threat of withholding her support for their union. And so it came to be that over the course of a week he was summoned at various times on a daily basis to her boudoir, where he had to suffer the indignity of handling all her intimate apparel, satin slips, silk panties, several types and styles of brassieres and , of course, the many and varied items of corsetry, girdles and corselettes.

Of course, she was correct he had been attentive and now knew exactly how a woman dressed. Seeing his cheeks redden, she embraced him added in a soothing tone,

“Oh no need to feel embarrassed Edward, it’s all for the greater good and we are all so supportive.”

It may well have been meant as a well intentioned encouragement for the young man but it did little to raise his spirits and he felt things his situation could not get much worse.

Sadly, he was wrong.

“Yes Madam. So very supportive, just like his new foundations.” From behind him a familiar voice sent a jolt through his brain and he turned around to see Martha, the housemaid, with a smirk on her face.

Of course he knew eventually this moment would come and he would have to encounter Martha, the house’s only other occupant, nevertheless this knowledge did not soften the blow, it merely intensified his anxiety. If his future mother-in-law noticed his discomfort or was sympathetic to his predicament she did not show it and as Martha moved to her side she continued as if this scene was nothing out of the ordinary.

He went to retrieve the satin robe.

“No!” Mother snapped, then her voice softened a little as she added  “Like all girls, you will have to get used to parading around in intimate surroundings like bedrooms in your corsetry and lingerie. Martha, like you dear boy, sees me in my girdle and brassiere every day, isn’t that right Martha?”

“Yes Madam.” The maid answered, bobbing a curtsy. “Women don’t find any embarrassment in seeing each other in their underpinnings. I’m sure she will get used to it, Madam.”

The older woman laughed at her maid’s use of the feminine pronoun, Martha smiled, clearly delighted to have pleased her mistress. The young man, on the other hand had quite a different reaction.

His face, which had cooled somewhat from the initial shock of the maid’s presence, began once again to warm and glow, displaying a mixture of obvious and intense mortification and suppressed anger at Martha’s reference to him as “she”.

Such temerity, and from a servant girl!  he thought bitterly, trying to hide his burning shame.

His first reaction was to rebuke her but aware of his future mother-in-law fondness for her maid, and not for the first time, he swallowed his pride. Considering the mortifying feminine underwear he was forced into he was in no position to rebuke the girl.

“As we have discussed Edward, to make certain your performance is convincing...”she paused, as the young man by now clearly becoming overwrought began to distract her, his fingers nervously tugging at the taut garters attached to his girdle.

“Oh do stop fidgeting like a silly girl, Edward, it really is most annoying.” She said brusquely and waited for him to cease his nervous fumbling before continuing, “You will not only have to make sure you comport yourself as a girl, which your new foundation wear and I will ensure you do, but you will also have to conduct yourself as a maid servant and Martha is the ideal person to train you in such matters. I intend to give her jurisdiction over you in such matters andI will take control over all other aspects of your feminine education.”

Since he had foolishly volunteered for the play before discovering the part was that of a maid servant he had reluctantly and sorely resigned himself to the humiliation of having to wear some form of costume. Adding insult to injury Mother now insisted, for reasons of authenticity she said, this would also include female foundation wear. All this was swirling in his head when an even deeper level of humiliation was now included in that this mere girl, this housemaid would have authority over him. It was more than any dignified, self-respecting red- blooded male of his class should have to endure and he felt a spark flicker inside him. This really was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Somewhere deep inside the fading embers of his masculinity seemed to grow stronger, it was a moment to take a stand. He would unequivocally register his objection to this unacceptable proposal. His face, already showing signs of regret and now growing discontent from his rash and foolish decision suddenly began to manifest something approaching annoyance, perhaps even rebellion.

It was a look that did not go unnoticed by Mother.

“I do hope you are not going to be disobedient Edward.” She said quietly in a tone he immediately recognised as a harbinger of something even more degrading than his present situation. Her eyes met his and then, quite deliberately, drifted to her dressing table before adding, “It would be most disagreeable for both of us.”

He let out an involuntary low whine and tried to plead with her.

“Please...please...”he babbled quickly adding and desperately hoping it would help his case, “...Mother.”

Martha smirked at the young man’s use of the word, it only enhanced his feminine demeanour, nevertheless, she looked on with curious puzzlement at her mistress’s remark and from Edward’s reaction of relief. It was clear to him that she was unaware of the significance of this exchange.

However, he was not.

On the dressing table, nestled among the various creams, lotions, perfumes was the object of his latest apprehension, Mother’s long handled silver hairbrush. Much to his utter mortification, an instrument he or more accurately, his buttocks had recently become acquainted with. The events that led to this extremely degrading incident originated when he was required to accompany Mother on one of her numerous shopping excursions whereby a foolish but completely harmless interaction with an attractive shop assistant took place. Mother took grave exception, viewing the misunderstanding with the shop assistant as an insult to her daughter and if discovered by Rebecca was very likely to jeopardise his future with her. The protestation of his innocence was met with much scepticism and indignation by Rebecca’s mother. Her demeanour clearly indicated her upset on Rebecca’s account, it was also now clear that once more his future happiness was threatened. He was given the option of receiving a suitable punishment from her which would remain their secret or she would disclose his indiscretion to Rebecca.  He cringed at the memory of the absolute humiliation of being draped over her knees and receiving several strokes of her hairbrush, it was far, far worse than his current embarrassing predicament but at least she had kept he word and it remained undisclosed to anyone, even Rebecca.

Now, this dreadful secret was in danger of being revealed.  Dressing as a girl, although extremely embarrassing, could be somehow be explained as helping Rebecca’s mother navigate a difficult problem regarding her drama production but being draped over her knees and subjected to the degrading ritual of a spanking from her could only be seen for what it was- a complete and utter humiliation.  If Martha discovered this, it would quickly spread to other servants in the exclusive neighbourhood. What type of male would allow such an ignominious stain on his masculinity? Could he even be described as a male? He would quickly become a laughing stock, unable to show his face in polite society.

The sudden realisation that he may be jumping from the frying pan into the fire quelled this impulsive instinct and he quickly considered that perhaps his proposed rebellion would be a little hasty.

“Edward!” her sharp tone roused him from his thoughts. “As I said, Martha will take control of your training as a domestic servant and you will be answerable to her in such matters, now do I make myself clear?”

Once more his nervous fingers tugged at his taut garters, her furrowed brow and cold stare required only one answer. Knowing she would not relent and also aware that the merest hint of disobedience or even mild discontent would mean it only end badly for him. There were no good options,  he lowered  his eyes in shame as he answered in a quiet voice,

“Yes Mother.”

“Good, I’m so glad you agree.” she said, adding sarcastically, “Not that you had much choice.”

“If I could suggest, Madam,” Martha offered in a suitably servile tone “He really should begin to address you as ‘Madam’, just like any servant girl.”

“Of course you are right Martha.” she said and turned to him, “Isn’t that correct Edward.”

“Yes Mother.” he replied automatically.

“Edward...”she chided him in a soft, faux disappointed tone, “I think you are forgetting your place, you are a housemaid now. A servant girl and should begin to act as one.

He didn’t think he could sink any further into this humiliating pit, addressing her as ‘Mother’ was most embarrassing for a full grown man but because of his foolishness there seemed to be no end to his disgrace. Now emotionally crushed and physically controlled by his new underwear, his cheeks burned with shame and answered meekly,

“Yes Madam.”

“I would like to ensure everything is in order before I put him into his new uniform, Madam.” Martha offered in a confident almost authoritative voice.

Rebecca’s mother had by now positioned herself on the bed propped up several satin pillows and in the move her skirt rose to her thighs, her legs under her yet slightly apart  he could not comprehend just why her ample bosom seemed to rise and fall at a more than steady rate as if she was in some slight distress.  She silently gestured her maid to continue her examination.

Martha stepped closer and to his horror began inspecting his new and unfamiliar underwear, tugging at the garters at the tops of his stocking, her hand glided over the satin material keeping his buttocks tightly restrained and squeezed them gently. He jerked slightly at her touch before she withdrew her hand. The ignominy of being forced into his future mother-in-law’s foundations was insufferable but now, and even worse, he was being molested by a servant girl and could do nothing about it. Adding to his shame and rising apprehension he now felt a slight stirring between his legs but his disgust at this reaction could do nothing to quell it.  Mother had been extremely detailed with her instructions on how to minimise, as she put it, any disgusting male protuberance and suggested she supervise the procedure. This would have been too much to bear and she relented after he fell to his knees, enveloping her legs with his arms and pleading tearfully that he should be allowed the dignity of privately donning his new foundation wear. She cautioned him to ensure there were no unsightly bulges or else she would have to take more drastic measures and although he had no idea what she meant, her tone indicated it was not something he wished to explore.

He was now glad he had done so and had followed Mother’s instructions to the letter, tucking his member between his upper thighs to give a reasonably smooth outline that the heavy satin front panel of the girdle kept in place. Now, as a result of Martha’s actions he desperately hoped Mother or Martha would not perceive this unwanted movement between his legs. The girl then turned her attention to his front and with her back to her mistress who watched with growing interest from her reclining position on the deep and heavy satin quilted bed. The girl resumed her appraisal as she fussed about his brassiere tightening the straps so they bit into his flesh, she smiling at each wince of his discomfort. He was momentarily distracted from his torment as he heard a low moan from the direction of Mother’s bed, her face seemed slightly flushed, her hand hidden by the large silk pillow that she had arranged in front of her lower torso. He suspected her abdominal ailment had reoccurred and she was massaging her stomach to ease the discomfort. A sudden jerking of the garters returned his focus to his own unpleasantness.

“You really do need a lot of tuition in how to put on your new foundations.” Martha said, her face could not disguise her delight in the authority she now possessed, she continued to berate him but in a tone that was not overly harsh so as not to overstep her new prerogative and upset her mistress. “Your brassiere straps were not taut enough and we do need to find something to fill them to give you a more feminine shape. Your stocking seams are not quite straight and two of the clips are not properly attached to the stocking tops...”

She paused for a moment and fixed her eyes on his, she could see the mixture of confusion, shame, anger but most of all the sheer frustration at the helplessness of his current situation. He could not now say or do anything to help himself and her face reflected the new found power she held over him.

Her fingers reached inside the top of his girdle to check the tightness, her hand then slid down the front satin panel and he closed his eyes in shame as her hand slipped over the barely discernible bump and squeezed gently before continuing,

“But at least Madam’s girdle is a reasonably good fit.”

He heard another low moan from Mother’s direction and noticed she removed her hand from under the pillow to fix several stray stands of hair from her face, she said in a faltering voice,

“I suppose as it will be at least another two weeks before the play I really should consider getting him several sets of his own foundations. I’m sure, like any girl, he doesn’t want to continue wearing mine and would prefer his own corsetry, lingerie and hosiery.”

“That’s very thoughtful, Madam.” Martha said and once again looked him directly in the eye “Isn’t that right...girl?”

Being addressed as ‘girl’ was the final straw, it was all becoming too much for the young man and he could feel the tears well up inside. Martha, although, delighted with his girlish reaction wished to keep him focused partly to impress her mistress and partly to further emphasise her dominion over him. She pinched the flesh between his girdle and just under his brassiere. It had the desired effect and the short but sharp pain stopped any potential tearful outburst, she added quietly in a patronising tone,

“Now thank Madam, like a good girl.”

Trampled by weight of his new and ghastly circumstances he had no option but to obey.

“Thank you Madam.” he said in a voice crushed by the realisation of his new status as a servant girl.

“Have her turn around and bend over, Martha.” His new mistress instructed the housemaid. “So I can inspect her from the rear.”

He felt Martha’s hand between his shoulders guiding him into the undignified position, his satin girdled derriere now on prominent display.

“Oh...yes...yes quite acceptable.” she said a slight tremble in her voice.“The girdle does give her quite a girlish shape. ”

In this degrading posture his face burned with shame as the two women briefly discussed his less than manly figure and what options they had to make it more feminine. After being allowed to rise, Madam rose from the bed, her face a little flushed, she adjusted her skirt as she walked to the mirror and arranged her slightly tousled hair to her satisfaction and then retrieving something from a tallboy, approached him.

“These will give you the appearance of a female bosom.” she said slipping a soft, slightly bulky material into the right cup of the brassiere and once satisfied it was in place repeated the process in the left cup. She stood back to inspect her handiwork before making further small adjustments.

“Of course these are only a temporary measure.” she smiled fussing about the cups of the brassiere, ensuring the breast forms were secure and properly placed “I hope to explore a more satisfactory solution , one of the ladies on the production team is a former Wardrobe Mistress at the Royal Opera House so I’m sure she will have ideas.”

“Perhaps something more permanent, Madam?” Martha suggested and smiled at the unfortunate young man “And heavier, it would allow him to at least partly understand why brassieres are necessary for the weaker sex.”

The idea of some form  of permanent fixture to his chest induced further and obvious panic which clearly amused the women who smiled condescendingly at the trembling young man, it was quite apparent that he was now considered another member of ‘the weaker sex’.

Madam patted him on the head like a favourite pet and added,

“It will just be something semi permanent but it will make your silhouette more feminine and make you feel more of a girl.”

“B...bu...but...I...”he babbled his face clearly terrified at the prospect.

“Hush now my dear boy. There is no need to be alarmed.” she said soothingly “It will be of great assistance in ensuring you are immersed in your role. And you want us to succeed, don’t you?”

“Y...yes ...but...”his incoherence continued unabated, but she ignored him.

“Good, I’m so glad you agree.” she said seemingly oblivious to her future son-in-law’s obvious desperation at this news.

“Pardon me for interrupting, Madam.” Martha said deferentially “But we really should begin referring to him as a girl, otherwise, I think it will confuse him.”

Before he had time to object the older woman responded.

“You are quite correct Martha, if he...oh, silly me, ...  if she is addressing me as Madam it would be ridiculous to refer to my housemaid as a ‘he’ or ‘him’.

Dejected as he was Edward could not help noticing the triumphal look on Martha’s face.

“Now, her uniform? I think something in satin with a several layered net petticoat underneath. It will help him connect with the femininity required for such a role.”

Martha’s face appeared less than enthusiastic.

“B...but...I...can I...it’s ...” another stream of incoherent mutterings interrupted the women’s thoughts.

“Oh, do be quiet girl!” Madam snapped “Can’t you see we are trying to decide on your uniform? Now please do not interrupt again...or else...”her voice trailed off and glanced once more at her dressing table. “Do I make myself clear, girl?”

Her curt admonition had the desired effect.

“Yes Madam.” He replied in a subdued voice her abrupt manner immediately reminded him of his new lowly position as did the new and unfamiliar title he was required to address her by.

She returned her attention to her maid who had remained silent and noticing her lack of enthusiasm enquired,

“You disagree, Martha?”

The girl remained silent.

“Speak up, girl.” her mistress said “I won’t be offended.”

“Her uniform is important, Madam.” Martha began, her tone reverential. “And although the one you describe may be ideal for the play it is far too pretty for day to day chores required of a servant girl. I think that if the purpose of the exercise is to ensure authenticity both as a girl and a female servant a proper housemaid’s uniform, just like mine, should be worn at all times. It will also help to instill in her the correct mentality required of a proper housemaid.”

“Mmm...I had not considered that.” she mused, clearly impressed with her servant’s suggestion “What a clever girl. If the dear boy’s...I mean girl’s ... training is successful perhaps I should make you my housekeeper instead of housemaid. ”

Martha, although delighted by this remark resisted the impulse of any display of joy, as knowing her mistress views on overt demonstrations of exuberance was considered rather common and would not appear in keeping with the decorum and restraint required from the elevated position of housekeeper.

“Thank you Madam, you are most kind.” she answered obsequiously and curtsied for good measure, her face exhibiting more gratitude than the delight she actually felt, and inspecting her new charge, continued, “I think she may be a little larger than me but as she is now tightly girdled, I’m sure I can find a uniform that would fit her.”

Standing in front of these women dressed in his future mother-in-law’s foundation wear, the unfortunate young man’s feelings of deep humiliation were once more being replaced by anger at this upstart of a servant girl referring to him as ‘she’ and ‘her’. Yet, witnessing the high regard in which she was now held he instinctively knew that even the mildest and most reasonable objection would not be viewed favourably. Despite the obvious indignity he was suffering and the resultant bitterness, he quickly concluded that his future mother-in law was so determined to ensure her play was a success that she would take sides with her housemaid over her prospective son-in-law and any protest by him would likely only reinforce Martha’s stature.

However, despite his best efforts, his face betrayed his suppressed temper.

“You seem somewhat perturbed Edward.” Rebecca’s mother enquired “Would you like to share any...concerns, you have?”

Thinking quickly and desperate to avoid further ignominy, he pleaded,

“It’s just a little embarrassing, Mother.”

“I think you are forgetting your place, my girl.” Martha said tersely.

“Madam...I’m sorry Madam.” he murmured his apology, his voice croaking from the series of humiliations he was bravely enduring.

“That’s quite all right, my dear.” Mother said “Being new to domestic service I expect you will make a few errors but once you are in your uniform, properly capped and aproned under Martha’s supervision. However, you must learn quickly as I want you to become indistinguishable from any other servant girl in service to a lady of my social status. At all times, you must act and speak like a domestic servant, unless, of course, I give you permission to act otherwise. Naturally, this will depend on your progress. ”

The enormity of his new reality, his immediate and inescapable fate as a female domestic servant began to finally grip him as tightly as his constrictive girdle. He now knew any appeal to her good nature would be met with the hairbrush and he would find himself in an even worse situation. But at least there was some glimmer of hope from her last sentence. She granted him a charitable smile, one he recognised she bestowed on subservient hairdressers, groveling assistants in clothing stores or, and the thought struck him like a thunderbolt, dutiful and respectful maid servants at her friends houses. He was now in that very category. Her eyes met his and he knew what was expected.

His answer came almost naturally in a suitably deferential tone.

“Yes Madam.”

She then turned to address Martha.

“There is a lot at stake for all of us, as I’m sure you now understand. I am now making you responsible for Edward’s training as a female servant. So, I do hope you will not let me down and will ensure that Edward’s is proficient in all aspects of a housemaid’s role.”

“I understand Madam.” the girl replied, the promise of promotion to housekeeper still ringing in her ears.

A knowing glance was exchanged between Martha and her mistress and she was dismissed with casual wave of the hand.

Martha fixed her eyes on him, her face smug with the new authority she had over this once arrogant male and with a voice laced with smug  superiority issued her first instruction to her dejected subordinate,

“Come along, girl.”

As they approached the door and sure they were out of earshot of her mistress, she could not contain herself any longer and whispered to him,

 “I think this will be the start of a most enjoyable experience...well, for me anyhow.”

A low, almost canine whine escaped from his mouth as she closed the door behind them.

 

To be continued.

 

 

 

Most Unfortunate Side Effects - New Captioned Image

 

Most Unfortunate Side Effects

I suppose at some stage throughout our lives we have all taken medicine for various illness, conditions etc. Personally and  until recently I haven’t always read the info accompanying these medications(yes, foolish I know) but I do now and I notice side effects are always mentioned.

For those of us with an interest in all things feminine I often wonder if those side effects were so severe that the male body was altered sufficiently (breasts obviously but also weight on the hips/buttocks)give a more feminine shape. Of course, the matrons that have such an interest in us know that such changes would require  various items of female foundation wear to control the contours of this new frame…mmm.

Oh well, we can but dream.

Jennifer- As always, many thanks for inserting the text in such a readable format. I’ll try to get a few more to you over the next few weeks.

On a more serious point, in the last few months I’ve discovered from some kind readers that there is now a requirement to provide certain info to gain access to the blog. From researching this, it seems these requirements are to ensure a level of security for the blog owner(me)This is a Google requirement – certainly not mine.  From what I can glean is something to do with ad placement, something I do not do nor ever would.

Very understandably readers do not wish to provide this info- I fully understand this as I would not want to do so either. There is more than enough surveillance capitalism as it is, however, I don’t think there is any way around this but if there is please let me know.

There has been a major fall off in visitors to the blog over the last few months which I don’t know if is a result of a slide in the quality of the stories/images or the new requirements. Whatever the reason  I have to admit it  is more than very disheartening.

I’ve started a story based on the last image posted (Maid for the Role) – which may take another month or so and if I can I’ll try to post another image before then.

 

Thanks again for reading and hope you enjoy the caption.

Take care 

Carrie

Maid for the Role - New Image and caption

 Maid for the Role

Some  people are always very eager to please, more especially so when it can prove advantageous to them and as we can see from the image below William appears to be one of these. Having spent weeks in  such a role, I wonder will he be able to retain a grip on his masculinity. Or more to the point- will he be allowed to do so.

Many thanks to Jennifer for inserting the text in a more readable format.

The image at the top of the blog has been posted before and I came upon it by chance looking for something else. However, the idea of finding oneself in such a situation -encased in a long, tight and restrictive corset under several silk, satin and taffeta petticoats and a heavy satin gown surrounded by mature and controlling ladies- was just too much to resist and I just had to re-post

Thanks again to Jennifer who also kindly supplied and inserted the text into this image.

I often  wonder do Gen Z or whatever  20-30 somethings are now called, find this type of forced femme as erotic as previous generations. 

Whatever floats your boat, I suppose.

Take care 

Carrie

Reputational Damage- New story with image

 I’d thought I’d have this story finished much sooner than this but as with all of us, life manages to interrupt our plans on a regular basis.

It’s quite long and I’ve only skimmed through it for typos, grammatical errors etc so apologies if any were missed.

Hopefully you will have a happy, safe and peaceful Christmas.

Take care 

Carrie

Reputational Damage

By

CarrieP

 

 

I

t was whilst employed temporarily as a chauffeur to the Duchess of Lismore in order to secure the necessary funds to continue his nursing studies that Vivian had first encountered Mrs. Cynthia  Goodwood, a friend of Her Grace from America who had been invited to stay for several weeks at the Duchess’s country residence. However, in a most unfortunate turn of events several days after the beginning of her vacation, Mrs Goodwood had injured herself in a riding accident and with limited and painful mobility was confined to the house. Under the circumstances it seemed most fortuitous to the Duchess to have someone in her employ with nursing experience that would be of immense assistance to her friend and was quite keen on the idea when she broached the subject with her new employee. The young man, however, was not as enthusiastic as he considered such a role beneath him and of the view the position would be more of a nursemaid than a nurse and better suited to a female.  Of course, given the nature of his relationship and the need to retain his employment he did not state this explicitly. Naturally, Her Grace ignored his less than eager  response  and aware of his experience, albeit limited, of nursing members of the opposite sex previously continued to press her case, leaving  him in no doubt that a refusal would not sit well with her. However, at the same time she indicated very directly that his acceptance of the role would be generously rewarded and favourably looked on with regard to future references.. Being a pragmatist young man he quickly concluded that the salary for his present position was essential for his future studies and losing it would be catastrophic so it was vital that he did not displease the  Duchess, he was also acutely aware that a recommendation from such a well respected and well connected figure would open many doors in the future. He very soon realised he would be foolish to decline such a request and would be foolish to place ego above ambition. Suppressing his reluctance and misgivings he swallowed his pride and feigning his gratitude he accepted the post.

Throughout the several weeks it took for Mrs. Goodwood to complete her convalescence Vivian attended to her every day spending practically every waking hour in her company, assisting her with exercises, supporting her when she was finally able to take walks in the garden, she even asked him to read to her on a daily basis as she lay in bed recovering from her exertions.  Other tasks related to her clothes and dressing were mostly taken care of by Marie, the Duchess’s lady’s maid .During this time and despite his initial qualms a cordial relationship developed between them. In fact, so close was their bond that Mrs. Goodwood insisted he remain in the room reading to her while the Duchess’s maid went about her various chores such as laying out her clothes or arranging her hair.

As the weeks passed the close connection between them seemed to grow and strengthen and it came as little surprise that when she fully recovered and after consulting the Duchess she offered him a position as her chauffeur/butler at her residence in New York.   Naturally, for a young man the thought of a life in such an exciting metropolis in a different country was irresistible, it was an offer he couldn’t refuse. Within a week Mrs. Goodwood, who it appeared had excellent connections with both embassies, had made the necessary arrangements and with the Duchess’s blessing, the young man and his new employer departed on the next available trans -Atlantic sailing.    

The five day crossing would give him ample time to consider his prospects. His excitement was barely containable, his imagination envisaging a bright future, the sights he would see, the people he would meet, the opportunities he would no doubt have. He had already calculated that the salary Mrs.Goodwood had offered him would allow him to finish his nursing course and perhaps eventually study for enrolment in medical school.

 

The Voyage

The SS Normandie was even more spectacular than he had imagined and such was his awe when boarding the vessel that Mrs. Goodwood had to remind him to close his gaping mouth lest it draw attention. As they waited for her numerous items of luggage to be delivered to her cabin she could see he was still awestruck and smiled at his almost childlike expression of wonder and it stirred something inside her. She yielded to her urge to hug him and kissed him softly on the cheek before  slipping her arm underneath his and escorted him on a tour of the public spaces devoted to first class passengers including the dining room, first class lounge with its grand piano and several large crystal chandeliers , the ballroom with its ornate decor, and to his amazement an eighty foot swimming pool. However, a bigger surprise was when she informed him his accommodation would not be in steerage or even second class as was usually the case with other employees but in an adjoining room to her state room. She explained that it would not be practical for him to be accommodated elsewhere on the vessel as she would require him to run errands and to continue to assist her with the various rehabilitation exercises they had been working on. It would also allow him to become familiar with the type of people in her social circle and how to deal with various situations that may arise.

After completing a circuits of the upper deck they returned to the first class lounge where Mrs. Goodwood choose a table in a quiet location and as they sat awaiting their tea to arrive an elegant lady of a similar vintage to his employer approached. Both women embraced and kissed each other on the cheek, neither seemed surprised to see the other. After exchanging pleasantries and a brief account of her recovery from her recent injury Mrs Goodwood introduced Vivian to her good friend, Mrs. Edith Esterhaus and gave a short explanation for his presence on the voyage. 

“Butler...chauffeur... nurse...” she said , raising a perfectly arched eyebrow and instantly inspecting every inch of the young man the way mature women do. She then turned to her friend with an expression of concern “I thought you had better be aware that Beatrice van Horne is also on board, I was with her on the upper deck when we saw you earlier strolling arm in arm on the deck below.”

“Oh...I see...”Mrs Goodwood replied, a unmistakable note of disquiet in her voice as her eyes fell upon her young male employee.

“So you see the problem.” her friend said.

The conversation halted as a steward politely interrupted advising her luggage had been delivered to her rooms and gave her the keys to her rooms.

“Indeed I do Edith” Mrs Goodwood said gravely as the steward departed. “This is a most unfortunate turn of events.

Noting the seriousness of the ladies faces Vivian followed the conversation closely with mounting bewilderment and not a little unease. Finally, Mrs Goodwood turned to Vivian and explained in an earnest  voice,

“Mrs. Beatrice van Horne a member of our immediate social circle and although mostly well meaning she does have a dreadful tendency to gossip and in a most dangerous way. Her seeing the two of us promenading on the deck in such a fashion will have fuelled her overly vivid imagination. Do you understand my meaning?”

He looked at her blankly.

“What your mistress is trying to say, dear boy,” Mrs Esterhaus explained as if to a five year old,”is that Mrs. Van Horne is putting two and two together and getting five. She will assume you and your mistress are...shall we say... romantically linked.”

She paused to allow the young man to absorb this.

The word ‘mistress’  hit him, reminding him of his servant status, perhaps foolishly he’d thought  he’d left behind left the confines of his  class ridden and societal hidebound country. It now seemed to him wealth and privilege, regardless of country, revelled in such archaic hierarchies. However, he also immediately grasped the significance of Mrs. Esterhaus’s remark. The suggestion that there was more than an employee/employer relationship between them was indeed shocking. Having spent time in the service of the Duchess he was only too well aware of what a lady’s reputation meant, particularly in such elevated society circles and instantly recognised the seriousness of the implication for Mrs. Goodwood’s good character. Consequently, he was also very much aware of how such an accusation, regardless of how ridiculously false, could impact his employment prospects. She could always find another employee, he would find it difficult to find another employer that could fund his ambitious plans.

A panic rose inside him, such a dreadful allegation could quite possibly ruin everything he had hoped for and he began to see his future disappear before him.

 “If such a gross misrepresentation of the facts were to circulate in New York’s society circles, it would have dire consequences for your mistress. I do hope you understand.” Mrs Esterhaus addressed him directly and with an expression that something bad was about to happen, she then turned to her friend and said gravely, “Cynthia, we really need to nip this in the bud. I would suggest severing your connection with the boy and remove him to steerage for the duration of the voyage. He can remain on board for the return journey. A new butler, nurse or chauffeur can easily be found in New York.”

The young man felt his heart pounding as Mrs. Goodwood remained silent for several seconds.

“You may be right Edith. Beatrice van Horne has a habit of embellishing her stories to curry favour with our friends.” Mrs Goodwood eventually said wearily, the young man felt a knot in the pit of his stomach and suddenly understood the significance of these events. He could feel his dreams being wrenched from him and barely heard Mrs. Goodwood voice adding,“This is terribly unfair, that woman is an utter menace.”

“That may very well be, Cynthia.” Mrs Esterhaus replied sympathetically “But the fact remains, that dreadful Van Horne woman will be only too happy to exaggerate and suggest a totally different relationship, particularly when she discovers he has a cabin next to yours. Even if you manage to conceal him for the duration of the voyage she will still remember him when she calls on you in New York. And as we all know, once such a rumour begins it is impossible to stop. Much better to end this now.”

“Surely, there must another way.” Mrs.Goodwood sighed as she held Vivian’s hand in hers. “Vivian has been incredibly loyal and has so many endearing qualities, nothing was too much trouble for him and has done all I have asked and more.”

Despite his crushing disappointment, the young man blushed at her praise as he knew it was all true, he had indeed performed tasks that would not usually be undertaken by a butler or any male servant for that matter. Over the course of several weeks these duties had become normalised and second nature to him as their relationship had deepened and developed.

She patted him on the knee in an affectionate manner and added,

“Indeed, I have had lady’s maids who were not as attentive.”

 This was not the first time she had made such a remark and his cheeks continued to redden at the comparison as he struggled to prevent overtly wincing. In fact, the Duchess and her maid had been present on the last occasion she’d said it and both seemed to accept that such praise was quite acceptable. He had come to realise that given the opportunity Mrs. Goodwood was affording him it would not only be churlish to object but against his best interest. By now he knew how to acknowledge  her various  observations and comments and although cringing inside he lowered his eyes and smiled shyly.

“Nor as appealing, Cynthia...” Mrs Esterhaus said as she noticed his increasingly crimson glow and paused for a few seconds to gather her thoughts before continuing  in a tone he found slightly unsettling.“More charming than your previous girls, quite delicate features, dainty hands almost...I wonder....”

Her voice trailed off and she caught her friend’s eye.

“Are you suggesting what I think you are suggesting, Edith?” Mrs. Goodwood asked.

“I don’t see why not.” Edith Esterhaus answered evenly as she ran a finger down his cheek and over his lips. “Just look at those cheeks, the full lips. Now that I look at him differently I can so very easily see the potential .Surely you can see it also.”

“Now that you say it...” Mrs Goodwood mused, her eyes intently inspecting his face. ,“Mmm...perhaps. And now that I think of it,  I have seen it done before. You recall Gloria Bassington’s, dreadful and profligate son?”

“That’s exactly who I was thinking of.” Her friend said excitedly “And he wasn’t half as pretty as your young man.”

Vivian looked at his employer and then to Mrs. Esterhaus, his expression one of complete bewilderment. He knew he was the subject of their conversation but had absolutely no idea of the part he played. Mrs. Esterhaus was the first to address him.

“Yes, it must be confusing, dear boy.” she said quietly “But I think we may have found a way around your mistress’s predicament. That is if you still wish to remain in her employ.”

“Oh, yes, yes, of course, Madam.” he blurted, the straws he was clinging to had suddenly become a sturdy ladder and his feet were on the first rung. He dared to hope once more.

“I’m delighted to hear it, after all we have become so close ” Mrs. Goodwood chirped, grasping his hands in hers, he nodded eagerly. “But to ensure that our plan is successful, it will entail much sacrifice and not inconsiderable risk on all our parts.

“Of course, of course, Madam.”he gushed enthusiastically as a naive optimism flooded his brain.

“Perhaps it would be better if I explained in simple terms so you will have no difficulty in understanding.” Mrs. Esterhaus said addressing him directly in a patronising voice “As you now know a lady of our acquaintance ,Mrs. Van Horne ,is on board and will sooner or later call on your mistress. If she finds that your mistress is accompanied on the voyage by a male, she will, as is her nature, come to the most absurd conclusion that there is some kind romantic liaison between you.”

“But...that’s...that’s...I mean...”he stammered as Mrs. Goodwood smiled sweetly at him and squeezing his hand. “

“Preposterous, I know.” Mrs Esterhaus said.

“Why, don’t you find me attractive Vivian?” Mrs. Goodwood asked him, a hint of sadness in her voice.

“No...I mean...yes Madam...very...It’s just that...” he stammered his face brightening by the second.

Of course she was an attractive woman and he had seen her in ways a male servant or indeed male nurse would not usually see such a lady but he had always taken great care to ensure she did not see the physical effects of her effect on him. He now doubted if he’d been successful and suddenly he could feel a bead of sweat form at his temple.

Mrs Goodwood’s face remained serious, almost hurt.

“Of course Madam.”he said desperately trying to recover some composure but his voice still faltered slightly and with his eyes lowered, he added truthfully.” You are very attractive.”

Her face softened and she smiled tenderly at him.

“Oh do stop teasing the boy, Cynthia.”Mrs Esterhaus gently admonished her friend before addressing him “I think your mistress has illustrated my point, if Mrs van Horne sees your doe-eyed devotion she will consider this proof of her suspicions. Do you understand?”

The rebuke was enough to get his attention, he nodded eagerly keenly awaiting her instructions.

“We really do need to finalise our plans and quickly.” she said “As I said, a male regardless of his servant’s status accompanying a lady will be a source of scandal. Outrageous of course, however, such a rumour no matter how unfounded would be extremely dangerous to the lady’s reputation. Now, a girl, perhaps a lady’s maid or a companion, accompanying her mistress would not raise an eyebrow.”

She paused and both women looked at him intently, his face took on an expression of complete bafflement.

“Ah...I’m...I’m sorry...do you mean...I...”he spluttered incoherently, his mouth agape.

“Oh do close your mouth, dear boy.” Mrs Goodwood said softly “It makes you look most unattractive.”

 “He’s not that bright, is he Cynthia? Yes, we mean that you will dress as a girl.” Mrs Esterhaus snorted derisively “As your mistress’s lady’s maid to be precise. It is the only way to ensure Mrs. Van Horne does not suspect something. That is unless you want to ruin your mistress’s reputation.”

“A companion/nurse maybe an option.” Mrs Goodwood wondered out loud.

“But...I...you don’t...” he continued to blather but Mrs Esterhaus immediately cut him short.

“Please don’t interrupt, boy.” she snapped. “There is simply no other way to protect your mistress’s good name and I assume you do wish to ensure that and of course remain in her employ.”

“Yes, yes...of course .” he answered without hesitation.

“That is so gratifying to hear, I have become quite fond of you too.” Mrs. Goodwood said with a reassuring smile from which he took great comfort.

“It’s just...surely ...there could be another...”he continued

“No .”Mrs Esterhaus once more interrupted him in an emphatic tone, dismissing his feeble objection with a wave of her hand and placing a finger under his chin addressed her friend. “If there is even the merest hint of a male presence around your mistress Mrs. Van Horne will have it all over New York society before we even arrive. Do I make myself clear?”

“Ah...er...”he babbled absorbing the consequences.

He looked meekly at Mrs. Goodwood for some support.

“It is true Vivian, Mrs van Horne could ruin my reputation.” she said and smiled encouragingly “It will only be for a few days until we arrive.”

“Do I make myself clear young man?”Mrs. Esterhaus reiterated once more, her voice growing more impatient and forceful.

“Em...ah...yes Madam” he finally succumbed to her relentless offensive.

“I’m glad you have come to your senses.” she sighed, her voice softening “I’m sure your mistress will not forget your loyalty.  Luckily you don’t have a truly masculine face, not exactly feminine but with some light make up and one of my wigs I expect we could make you into a  reasonably presentable girl.”

Any confusion he had as to what was now expected of him had disappeared and was replaced by the fear of what was now being asked of him. His mouth opened but only a barely audible whine emitted.

“And it is most fortunate that he is not that much larger than me.” Mrs. Goodwood observed “But my girdles are made to measure so they may be a little tight on him but at least he will fit into one of my black or grey dresses. You know the ones Vivian, they have a Peter Pan collar. I’m sure they will fit you.”

Girdles...dresses...the words echoed in his head.

Another low whimper left his mouth but neither of the women seemed to notice.

“Have you seen his legs, Cynthia?” Mrs Esterhaus asked “I do hope his calves are not too heavy. I had a housemaid once with legs like tree trunks. A pleasant girl but looked terrible in her uniform.”

“I have no idea Edith. But I expect they will have that ghastly male hair on them.” Mrs Goodwood answered” We will find out soon enough however, opaque stockings will solve that issue until we can shave them properly.”

“A...aah...”the pitiful sound finally became audible.

“Don’t worry dear boy.”Mrs Esterhaus consoled him “By the time we are finished with you, you will look every inch a lady’s maid.”

“Or companion, I have not decided yet.” Mrs. Goodwood confided in her friend before turning to the young man and handed him the key to her stateroom. “Perhaps both roles could be combined.”

He could only nod his acknowledgement and still dazed turned to leave.

“Before you go, dear boy.” Mrs. Goodwood noticing his disconcertion  “As we will have to begin your transformation immediately He winced visibly at the prospect.

“We will have to begin your transformation immediately. I suspect that Van Horne’s woman will seek me out quite soon.,” Mrs Goodwood said, ignoring his obvious distress “After you have finished unpacking my luggage lay out several of my foundation garments, I’m still not sure which style will best suit our objectives.”

“I’d advise a long girdle, knee length if you have one, Cynthia” Mrs. Esterhaus suggested “It should be sufficiently long to ensure his male gait is restricted. He will also require one of your long line brassieres, some rolled up stockings will fill the cups and will lend a more authentic look to his figure.”

“I agree Edith, we will require every item in the feminine armoury to ensure he is presentable.” Mrs. Goodwood concurred. “Luckily, because of the weeks we have spent together during my convalescence he has become intimately acquainted with all my foundation wear and lingerie and will know exactly what items are required. Isn’t that so Vivian?”

He could not deny it, squirming with shame he blushed yet again, his eyes trained on the floor.

“It is not something to be ashamed of, Vivian.” Mrs. Goodwood said in a soothing voice. “It has given you an insight into our world, the feminine realm. A place you will now become even more familiar with. I think the long corselette, the one that laces from the back, it will mould your figure into a suitably feminine silhouette.  Now run along like a good girl, we will join you shortly.”

“I think the dear boy should put them on before we arrive.” Mrs. Esterhaus suggested as she looked at him directly “Unless of course you want us to see you naked.”

The idea that these women should see him in such a state was even more terrifying than having to dress as a girl.

As he left their company the emotional turmoil only grew larger. The ghastly prospect and the shame of being dressed a as girl as well as the fear of being discovered was now uppermost in his mind. He also wrestled with the anger that his future had been derailed because of some wealthy woman he did not even know. On the way to the stateroom the thought briefly occurred to him to refuse to comply and accept that this would put an end to his dreams of a new life in a new and exciting country, not to mention the lost opportunities. As he turned the key in the door of the stateroom, he quickly realised he would never have the hope of such good fortune again. He had to concede that Mrs. Goodwood has been very generous and had delivered on her promise and both women were very confident that he could succeed in impersonating a girl. He shuddered at the very idea but considering what was at stake, it was, perhaps, worth the cost of the humiliation.

He quickly began unpacking the several very large trunks containing Mrs. Goodwood’s clothes, it was an easy task as he had, under her supervision, packed them himself and in the weeks he had spent with her had learned how her clothes should be arranged in wardrobes and drawers. As he went about his task in the silence of the stateroom, Mrs. Goodwood words suddenly echoed in his brain,

 “I have had lady’s maids who were not as attentive.”

He felt a shiver run down his spine as the phrase sank in, a slow surge of shame welled up inside him, triggering a recent memory of when Marie, the Duchess’s lady’s maid, had given him some advice in dealing with lady’s toilette, complimented him on how well he was doing in attending to Mrs. Goodwood requirements. She was particularly impressed with how he took care of her clothes and he remembered her smiling as she saw him laying out her evening gown, asking  him what foundation garment she would wear under it.  Of course he became flustered and hesitated but she persisted, telling him most maids shared such information about their mistresses as it was helpful to know which foundations worked best under certain gowns. He recalled his initial anger that she was implying that, he too was a lady’s maid, but before he could say anything she quickly explained that if he wanted to impress Mrs. Goodwood, an informed view of what would suit her figure would be invaluable. It was part of his role to offer advice and as a male this would be invaluable to Mrs. Greenwood as it would give a different perspective. Annoyed as he was at the ludicrous and mortifying comparison with a lady’s maid, nevertheless, considering his long term goal he could see merit in her advice. Without realising it he soon became her protégé, learning how to remove stains from blouses and skirts, how to care for various delicate fabrics, gaining knowledge about coordinating colours and of course, acquiring an intimate and indispensible knowledge about lady’s foundation garments. He could justify his immersion in this new feminine world as it was done with his ultimate goal in mind, ensuring he pleased Mrs. Goodwood which would allow him to leave his present life for something far better. His diligence did not go unnoticed by her and the recent comparison to her previous maids was no doubt meant as a compliment even though he still found hard to accept.

These thoughts ran through his mind as he began unpacking her luggage, however, his focus remained resolutely on what he’d been taught by Marie, hanging her various skirts and  dresses in the correct order, checking her blouses for wrinkles before placing them on their hangers, arranging her shoes in order of heel height. But, at the back of his mind was the nagging resentment of her humiliating  observation and it was when he finally turned to the last large item of luggage, his internal conversation ended abruptly. He sighed wearily as he gazed at it with a mixture of fear and loathing, only too well aware that it contained Mrs.  Goodwood’s corsetry and lingerie.  He gingerly began removing the diverse array of intimate garments, silk stockings in several hues, brassieres of various styles and colours, girdles of differing lengths, styles and rigidity, formidable corsellettes, there were even two old fashioned corsets among the collection. When he’d finished the entire area of the large bed was covered in her foundation garments. He gasped as her departing instruction rang in his head like a bell,

“he has become intimately acquainted with all my foundation wear and lingerie and will know exactly what items are required.”

He was only too well aware of the garment she’d had in mind and his eyes were now drawn inexorably to it. A long corsellette rolled neatly, tea rose in colour,  its laces coiled around it tied in a neat bow,  and as he silently acknowledged ,shamefully knotted by his own hands. Its function was to encase the wearer from the breast to just above the knee, in an attempt to disguise its discomforting structural function it had a dainty lace hem. He had packed these foundations himself, never thinking for one moment that within days he would be forced into wearing some of them, he felt his heart pound as he picked up the required item, before, in a fit of shame and disgust at his helplessness, throwing it back onto the bed. The thought of refusing to comply with their outlandish proposal once more entered his thoughts but immediately a sober and more measured, competing voice inside his head told him a refusal would put an end to his ambitions for a new life. As he considered his predicament he also had to concede that over the course of their brief relationship Mrs Goodwood had been extremely generous to him. Gifts of clothes he could never have afforded, several items of gold jewellery including two watches that although appearing more like ones ladies would wear were obviously very expensive. He suddenly realised that apart for his daily duties, she had never asked anything of him.

Until now.

In the silence of the stateroom the clock suddenly chimed as loud as Big Ben.

Mrs. Esterhaus’s strict instruction advising to ready himself before their arrival snapped him from his trance like state and, hands trembling he reached out for the other dreadful article she had insisted he wear, a long line brassiere.  By now, he had become very familiar with all these items of intimate apparel, indeed, the memory of the first time he had encountered them was seared into his brain. It was in the second week of her stay that Mrs. Goodwood had requested the assistance of a maid in dressing, , however, as none appeared readily available he was, despite his obvious unease at the prospect , dispatched by the Duchess to facilitate her friend. Of course, because of her injury he had been assisting her with various tasks and was now familiar with her routine but this task went beyond duties a male should be required to perform and although irked by the Duchess’s instruction to carry out a maid’s duties, he was loath to object. He clearly recollected how, when he’d hesitated at her instructions Mrs. Goodwood encouraged and cajoled him at first, citing her injuries as the obvious reason and telling how diligent and helpful he was. When he continued to dither her voice became quite firm almost severe and her commanding tone almost immediately intimidated him and he quietly acquiesced as he knew even at that stage he had too much to lose. As she fixed him with a steely gaze he knew if he wished to remain in her good graces he would have to do as he was told. Lowering his eyes he slowly moved closer and with each step he had a vague feeling of  himself being drawn tighter and deeper under her control. Generous as she was she was not a woman that took ‘no’ for an answer and he began to undress.

 Even now, weeks after the events of that evening her words and demeanour were etched into his brain and he remembered it word for word.

“Oh do come along Vivian, there is no need to be shy.” her voice was quite firm but balanced with a note of friendly reassurance. “If you are to be of any benefit to me, and I sincerely hope you will, you must be able to provide any and all assistance that I require including some tasks that you may feel are beyond your realm of experience.”

She was dressed in a full length heavy satin dressing gown in pale pink and turning her back to him she opened it and let it slip to the ground. Underneath she wore long corselette of a similar colour hanging loosely from her womanly frame, the laces dangling from the back, it was quite obvious what was required of him. Looking at the reflection of the disorientated young man in the full length mirror she instructed him to pull the laces gently but firmly, first from the centre and then moving to the lower end before switching his efforts to the upper part. As the corselette began to stiffen, she held on to the bedpost and directed him to draw the laces slightly tighter. He had never before been this close to a woman clad only in corsetry, the intimate surroundings of her bedroom with its feminine odours only heightened his anxiety. The nature of his task required that his hips be within inches of hers, the proximity of her soft feminine flesh was almost overwhelming. Her perfume seeped into his nostrils and suddenly he became acutely aware of his organ swelling and the embarrassment it would cause if she were to detect it.

  He followed her instructions carefully and almost instinctively was guided by the visible reshaping of her body and the low but audible sighs and moans that greeted every tug of the stays. Between these low whines she informed him such discomfort was necessary to ensure a truly feminine figure but he was far too focused on what was happening between his legs that he barely heard her. When she was satisfied the correct silhouette had been achieved she instructed him to tie the slack lacing into a neat bow. Turning her back to the mirror she glanced over her shoulder to examine his efforts and once satisfied turned once more to face the mirror, inspecting her reflection closely she adjusted her bosom in the lace cups of her long line brassiere to ensure an attractive cleavage. Her hands ran over the satin material following the noticeable new contours of her torso, fanning out over her womanly hips before pronouncing her verdict.

“Quite impressive for your first attempt, you have very nimble fingers for a young man.” she complimented him as her eyes remained on her reflection as she continued to  run her hands over the curves of her body, she added almost absentmindedly , “On my first night here one of the Duchess’s maids attended me, a ghastly experience. The poor girl had absolutely no sense of subtlety whatsoever, almost squeezed the life out of me. A different girl the following night was little better. You on the other hand, despite your sex, seem to have more of a natural feel for such duties. Obviously your nursing experience is most beneficial when dealing with others on an intimate level. I just wish the Duchess’s maids were as capable.”

He folded his hands in front of his groin and hoped she would not notice the slight but noticeable bulge.

“Oh I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” she said quietly, seemingly unaware of his predicament. “I should have realised that such duties for a male are quite foreign and perhaps somewhat embarrassing but if you feel such tasks are beyond you I could always ask the Duchess to provide me with Marie, her own maid, to attend me. It would be a great pity as I find your company most agreeable not to mention your attentiveness, dedication and willingness to learn. You could be a great addition to my household” she paused for a second or two before adding, “ but of course if you feel it is unbecoming or perhaps in some way unmanly ... ”

“Oh no Mrs Goodwood...no ...not al all.” he blurted, fearful of jeopardising the hope of  a new life and immediately noticing she seemed somewhat unconvinced, he added enthusiastically for good measure, “I would most grateful for the opportunity.”

Her eyes locked onto his and a self-satisfied, almost triumphant smile lit up her face, it was a smile that for some unknown reason made him slightly uneasy.

“I am so glad to hear that, Vivian.” she said, maintaining her smile “Most males would find it demeaning but thankfully you’re not like most males. I do hope I am correct.”

Still recovering from the experience of being performing such an intimate act he was slightly disorientated. He was vaguely aware that although her words were insulting he knew he dare not seem ungrateful or in any way sullen as this could be yet another test of his willingness to go beyond what was expected of a male. He swallowed his pride and somehow managed to smile in appreciation.

“Yes, Mrs. Goodwood.” he answered.

“Good, now as you will become my new maid, you may address me as Madam.”

He could not prevent his face contorting in consternation, his mouth fell open but no sound emitted.

“Oh silly me, did I say maid.” she laughed lightly and reached out to clasp his hands reassuringly “No...no ...I meant aide. How foolish of me. I do hope you’re not offended.”

“Aah...aah...”a low whine answered her, his mouth remaining agape.

 “Now fetch my stockings like a good boy, the grey ones draped over the chair. My injury means I’m still have difficulty putting them on or attaching them to my garters and you will have to assist me. But don’t worry you have done wonderfully so far and I will guide you in every step, soon it will be like second nature to you.”

He stood motionless still unsure if he was being humiliated or praised.

Her face took on a look of mild impatience.

“My stockings Vivian.” she said in a firm manner as if speaking to a five year old. It was enough to rouse him from his confusion.

“Aah..emm..yes Mrs Goodwood.” he replied.

“Vivian.”she snapped

“Madam...I’m sorry Madam.” he said meekly

“And do close your mouth Vivian, it is so unbecoming in a maid.” she added as he turned to retrieve her silk hosiery.

Maid!  He repeated silently to himself.

He wasn’t sure if he heard her correctly but considering her slightly irked mood he decided not to mention it and concentrated on the task at hand.

That incident was several weeks ago and to his shame he had to admit it was repeated several times since so much so that he had begun to lose any sense of just how humiliating his position now was. He was brought back to reality as the clock chimed announcing a quarter hour had passed and knowing it would not be long before the ladies made their appearance he removed his remaining clothes.  He carefully avoided glancing at the full length mirror he chose a lightweight girdle and with shame coursing through his veins he placed his feet inside and pulled it up his legs and over his hips. Through the tightness of the girdle he could feel the satin panel press against his male organ and to his horror it began to stir and swell slightly. A mixture of confusion, disgust and panic hit him and he quickly forced his hand under the taut material and before the offending member grew larger he forced it between his legs to ensure it would not embarrass him even further.

His eyes then fell on the long-line brassiere, another wave of degradation washed over him. Again,he became acutely aware of the clock’s rhythmic ticking which now seemed unnaturally loud  as if audibly reminding him of the imminent arrival of the ladies. This was enough to focus his mind and he picked up the offending article. Of course it was not the first time he had held the garment, on several occasions he had witnessed Mrs. Goodwood struggle, due to her injury, to don a similar style of brassiere. He was pressed into service to assist with the demeaning task, yet another which should have been performed by a lady’s maid. In retrospect he now recognised this was another plank of his masculinity being removed.  Now and to his utter shame it was his turn and to put on the brassiere, and without assistance. He imitated her actions and slipped his arms through the garment’s wide and sturdy straps, arms twisted behind his back and with his nimble fingers  he could feel at least some of the eyes engaging with various  hooks. Swivelling his head to check, he looked in the mirror and saw to his surprise that all hooks were attached to the correct eyes. He did not know whether to be pleased or depressed by his unmanly achievement. The biting straps and restrictive fabric of the long line brassieres added to the alien sensation of the girdle’s compression, looking down the empty lace cups were yet another reminder of how utterly far he was being separated from his masculinity. 

However, the ticking clock continued to march on relentlessly, a quick glance informed him that he had little time. Thoughts of his humiliating situation tried to penetrate his brain but were immediately suppressed at the expense of the greater good.

After all, a voice in his head said quite calmly, Mrs Goodwood has been so good to me and I could not be responsible for destroying her reputation. Isn’t that so? How could I ever forgive yourself? And besides, I do have my future to think about.

“Yes” he whispered his agreement, fingers trembling he reached out for the frightening garment.

Quickly, they will be here any moment now, the voice exhorted.

The urgency of his situation was now foremost in his mind and he could feel his heart quickening, without further consideration he picked up the long and heavy garment and, as he had seen Mrs. Goodwod do, wrapped it around his torso securing the small clasps on one side of the corselette’s busk to the pins on the other busk. The corselette now encased his body from his brassiere covered  chest to just above his knees, the lace hem adding an additional layer of femininity to the garment. He knew his frame was larger than Mrs. Goodwood’s and he expected to struggle to secure the clasps but  was more than surprised that it was not as tight as he’d expected and it felt more snug than narrow and cramped, almost as if it was meant to fit him. A ridiculous thought he reasoned, and considered he probably had lost some weight which would account for the favourable fit.  The problem of how to lace it now presented itself. Luckily, he recalled in one of his conversations with Maria, the Duchess’s maid, who had told him how she had received a similar corselette as a gift from her mistress and could without assistance lace herself into it. When she insisted on giving him a demonstration he blushed and demurred but she insisted telling him that as he was performing a similar role to hers, she felt closer to him than the other maids. Her words stung but as he did not wish to offend her he watched as she placed her hands behind her back and at first gently drawing in the laces at the small of her back before moving upwards and repeating but a little tighter this time before duplicating the action on the lower half but ensuring to leave a little slack to allow movement of her thighs.

Her lesson had proved to be valuable, his focus returned as he extended his arms behind his back and began to draw in the laces. The effect was immediate and he grimaced as he felt the pressure of the corselette against stomach and back. The silence in the room was suddenly broken.

“Oh my!” Mrs. Esterhaus’s voice exclaimed  as he turned to find both women standing in the doorway. “He looks absolutely divine. Far better than I had hoped for. You really have trained him well Cynthia. Just look at how he has managed to hook up his brassiere.”

Even though he knew this moment would come he was nevertheless quite startled at their arrival and made a  ridiculous attempt to cover himself with one of Mrs.Goodwoord’s satin slips that lay on the bed.

“How sweet. And so very girlish.” Mrs. Goodwood gushed, clasping her hands to her breasts in genuine admiration at the sight before her, she added in a soft supportive voice “But there is no need to hide your modesty or feel awkward, my dear. You will very soon become comfortable in our company wearing your new foundations. You must now begin to think of yourself as just another girl.”

She gently took the slip from his hands and sat him on the bed.

“You forgot to put on your stockings and shoes.” she said “an easy mistake for a young man to make but as your corselette is not yet fully laced, we can easily fix that. I have a nice pair of patent leather court shoes with a modest two inch heel. Once you have mastered those we can put you into three or even four inch heels.”

“At least his legs are quite shapely and thankfully not too hairy for a male.” Mrs Esterhaus said as she rolled a slightly opaque stocking up his left leg and locating the garter under the corselette attached it with remarkable dexterity.”But we will still need to remove it if he is to wear sheer silk stockings.”

“I’m sure the beauty salon on board will be able to take care of that.” Mrs Goodwood said as she repeated the exercise on his right leg and as she began attaching the stocking to the garter looked at him “Ghastly hairy legs would be a dead giveaway and we don’t want that, now do we, Vivian?”

The touch of their hands on his upper thighs was beginning to have a very disconcerting effect between his legs and all his concentration was required to ensure it did not become a growing and most embarrassing problem.

“A...aah...aah...no... no...of course...”he croaked, their delicate yet powerful ministrations were now having a noticeable effect on the organ between his legs but because of the tight and restrictive feminine garments he now wore the expanding bulge was minimised.

“Now aren’t you glad you are wearing a sturdy girdle.” Mrs. Esterhaus whispered as she continued to stroke his inside upper thigh.

Unable to answer, his brain was in turmoil as he strained trying to control himself.

“You should understand, your foundations have a dual function.” Mrs. Greenwood explained quietly, fixing him with her expressive eyes as she too caressed his skin, and ignoring his low groans, continued “

“Firstly, now that you will be dressed as a girl your new corsetry will help give you a very feminine shape. Secondly and probably more important, you may find yourself in the company of women, many of whom you may be attracted to or perhaps they may even find you attractive so you really don’t want to be discovered as a male. It would be extremely embarrassing if you had an unsightly bulge in the front of a tight pencil skirt. My reputation would be in ruins. So it’s very important that you act as feminine as possible at all times and your new foundations will provide the required protection against such an eventuality. They may be restrictive but I can assure you no woman feels properly dressed without  strong, stiff  and supportive under garments.  Mrs. Esterhaus and I will ensure you are never alone and will provide you with additional support and protection. You do appreciate how important this is, Vivian?”

He nodded as the women withdrew their hands and gently slipped the court shoes on his feet.

“That’s a good boy.” Mrs. Goodwood said, patting him on the head like a lap dog.

“Cynthia!” Mrs. Esterhaus said brusquely “If we are to succeed we really do need to stop thinking of or addressing him as a male.”

“Of course you are correct Edith, how silly of me.” Mrs. Goodwood answered “Now Vivian, be a darling girl and stand up be a darling girl we will help finish lacing your corselette before we put you into a nice pink satin slip and a suitable dress and do your make-up.”

After she had positioned him in front of the full length mirror, she then turned to her friend,

“As this was your idea Edith, would you like to finish lacing Vivian’s new corselette while I choose a dress.”

It was the first time Vivian had seem Mrs. Esterhaus smile as she arranged herself just behind him just as he had done with Mrs. Goodwood. He noticed a broad smile appeared on her face  and for some reason he felt it added greatly to the utter indignity he was experiencing.

“Oh don’t you worry about anything, dear boy.” she whispered in his ear, his stomach compressed slightly as he felt the first tug on the laces.

An overwhelming ignominy began to descend on him and in an attempt to ensure he retained  some semblance of masculinity, he glanced furtively at the mirror but unfortunately caught Mrs. Esterhaus’s eye, her face seemed quite thrilled by his discomfort.

“Take a good look. By the time we are finished, you will barely recognise yourself. Once we put you in a dress, apply the appropriate make-up together with a pale pink lipstick you will be one of the prettiest girls in New York.”

He opened his mouth to respond just as Mrs. Goodwood returned with a number of dresses over her arm and as Mrs. Esterhaus drew the laces around the tops of his thighs tighter he felt panic and confusion rise inside him. Perhaps he mis-heard. In his confused state he could not remember what day it was, when the ship would reach New York and how long he could endure such mortification. There were so many questions.

He looked at his image in the mirror and saw both women standing immediately behind him staring in admiration at their handiwork, their hands caressing the womanly contours of his new figure, their faces unable to contain their obvious delight and satisfaction.

“How much longer will I have to remain dressed as a girl. When will we reach New York?”  he asked the women in a dejected voice, “Four...five days?”

The women exchanged knowing glances and smiled at one another but did not answer.

After several seconds both women turned to him, Mrs. Goodwood caressed his face as Mrs. Esterhaus adjusted the frilled hem of the corselette.

“We’ll see, my dear.” Mrs Goodwood eventually said. “You have so much potential.”

“But...Madam...I...can’t ...”he babbled, her  ambivalent attitude to his predicament triggered a mounting panic inside him.

“But you look so adorable, my dear.” Mrs Esterhaus gushed clearly delighted at his transformation thus far. “W...we...weeks... girl...but...I...”he continued to splutter incoherently  as Mrs. Goodwood lifted a pale pink satin slip over his head.

“Oh at the very least.” Mrs Goodwood said “After all we can’t have my reputation damaged now can we?

“B...but...” he tried to raise his voice but was completely ignored as the women inspected him further.

“We may need to tighten her corselette Cynthia.” Mrs Esterhaus said examining his waist “Nipped waists are so fashionable with young girls these days.”

Mrs Esterhaus looked at him with matronly warmth.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head, after a few weeks dressed en femme you will become quite used to being a girl.  

“You may find it difficult at first.” Mrs. Goodwood said and took his hand adding in a tone that left him in no doubt that any objections or defiance would not be tolerated “But you will soon learn. Now let’s get you into that pretty dress.”

A terror now gripped him as he saw his future ahead of him, his mouth opened but the sound of the ship’s engine drowned out his long slow whine.