A Momentary Lapse of Reason

 

I’ve been trying to post the illustration below at the top of the blog as I’ve been doing for years but now when I do it’s reducing he dimensions and I doubt if readers can read the text or indeed expand it.

 I have no idea why Google seem to do these things arbitrarily and without explanation.   I’m not even sure many readers like these captioned images  but on the off chance that some do here is a new one.

Carrie

Life's Little Dilemmas Chapter 4 plus Illustration

 

Hopefully you are still managing to survive physically -and equally importantly mentally- in these incredibly stressful and, depending on where you are, dangerous times. Let’s hope (we seem to be doing a lot of that) despite these new variants we’re seeing some light at the end of that bloody long and dark tunnel.

Below is the latest chapter of LLD, when I began writing it I’d imagined it as much shorter but as always things never work out as you want and it finally wound up slightly longer than the previous chapter-hence the delay.

The first chapter was posted almost a year ago which makes it an episode every quarter which is ridiculous so I’ll try to bring it to a conclusion in the next chapter which I hope will be a lot briefer than this one. Although in my defense your honor, I suppose what didn’t help was writing Nurturing Talent in between chapters- as I’ve said previously I have the attention span of a fruit fly.

There may be a few inconstancies but hopefully they won’t detract too much from the overall story. Readers may remember where we left our hero but to summarize in a few lines,

Ms Goodbody’s very good friend, Eleanor Forsythe, arrives unannounced and meets William dressed reasonably convincingly  as a maid, she understands our hero’s panic as the maid experiencing a period and hands him a sanitary pad. There’s confusion as to his name and both women settle on Nancy as a more suitable name for a servant girl, he is told to leave, insert the pad and he will be called on when needed.

Maybe I should have written that as the story. 

I haven't had time to create a new illustration for the top of the blog so I'll do it in the next week or so. 

Thanks, as always for your kind and supportive comments and also your patience for the lag between postings, I’m blessed with very understanding readers.

Take care

 

Carrie

 

Life’s Little Dilemmas

By

 

CarrieP

 

Chapter 4

 

 

S

tanding perfectly still, unable to move a muscle, it took several minutes before the quiet ticking sound of the large clock on the kitchen wall eventually grew loud enough to penetrate the young man’s brain and as it did so second by second he slowly became aware of his surroundings. With this sluggish return to reality came an equally gradual realisation of air circulating around his legs, registering a most unusual sensation. Something else about his legs felt strange, a feeling of being enveloped in something taut yet soft. It was not an entirely unpleasant feeling yet it was somewhat perplexing and alien.  More sensations now began to reach his brain and he became aware of a constriction around his waist followed quickly by what he now realised was elastic gently pinching into his flesh at the shoulders and across his back. The clock’s ticking became louder as the synapses in his brain were now close to being fully operational, he felt himself emerging  albeit slowly and tentatively into full consciousness. He tried desperately to suspend the process but it was impossible and he feared that if he cast his eyes downwards he would be confronted with the visual confirmation of what his brain was attempting to convey.

Yet he still struggled to maintain some form of resistance and although his eyes remained firmly closed the brain would not be thwarted.  His hands were the first to admit defeat as their digits felt the heavy, yet soft material that hung loosely around his lower body and moving over the fabric they found another separate item of cloth. Of course by now he knew denying reality was a fool’s errand and he quietly surrendered, his eyes slowly opened and confirmed what his sense of touch had suggested.

Although not unexpected he nevertheless winced as it immediately became apparent he was dressed entirely in female clothing, but even worse, this was no ordinary feminine attire.

He was dressed in the uniform of a housemaid.

The fog inside his head had now lifted and as it did the events that had led to his new and most inappropriate attire were revealed. Adding insult to injury the relentless constriction around his torso and the unforgiving pinching of the garment supporting his small but distinct breasts appeared to take great delight in reminding him of their presence and purpose. However before he had time to indulge in self-pity or even recrimination for his lack of judgement another sound drowned out the ticking of the clock and immediately caught his attention.

A harsh ringing tone rang out in the still quiet of the kitchen, propelling him further into his new reality. It was a noise he had heard once before and added another layer to the coating of shame which he now felt was enveloping him by the second.

The sharp and disagreeable sound now filled the air, sending a frisson of alarm through his body however he remained rooted to the spot as his eyes were drawn to the small device mounted on the wall.

“The maid’s bell.” he uttered disconsolately as his hands grasped the starched apron that clung to his dress.

Your bell. a voice whispered inside his head, he closed his eyes trying to block out its very existence.

A second or two passed and the sound slowly dissipated however almost afraid to open his eyes he continued to clutch his apron hoping that perhaps he had imagined this unfamiliar and shame inducing noise. To his dismay but not surprise it was quickly followed by a second tinny jangle.

We had better hurry the voice said urgently as if chiming with the ringing tone, then quickly adding “The mistress won’t be pleased if we’re slow to appear.”

“The mistress.” he repeated sotto voce, feeling almost overwhelmed by the word as it clearly and unambiguously declared his relationship to his new employer.

Your mistress. the voice stated firmly but calmly before  silently asking the rhetorical question “Which makes you?”

 His eyes opened and caught his reflection in the window, although slightly distorted and blurred there was no doubting his face under a maid’s frilled cap and below that a vaguely feminine frame  attired in the uniform of a housemaid.

Say it. the voice prompted, much better that you accept your position sooner than later.

There could only be one answer.

“Her maid.”

You really don’t want the mistress or Miss Forsythe to ring a third time, do you?

 The mention of Miss Forsythe immediately alarmed him, her handsome yet austere face and statuesque figure loomed large in his mind’s eye. Such a vision had the desired effect and he immediately became reacquainted with his new role in the household.

Much as he disliked admitting it he had to concede the voice he had just heard was correct, for better or worse and in a fit of desperation he had accepted the position of Miss Goodbody’s housemaid. Dressed like this he could not abscond and even if he could, flee to where? He was trapped and if he did not answer the maid’s bell surely both women would soon investigate. At their first encounter Miss Forsythe had not uncovered his shameful secret yet even so he could not bring himself to even consider contemplating that perhaps he did indeed resemble a female.

Of course Miss Forsythe is probably short sighted. he quickly reasoned And only saw a uniform…

Maybe…the voice within answered, without much conviction Or maybe we’re not….  

“Don’t…!” William blurted out loud and suddenly became aware of the bell and the two women in the drawing room. His non appearance would surely arouse their suspicion.

 Without further thought or delay he found himself hastily leaving the kitchen and hurrying across the polished marbled tiled vestibule, the clicking of his heels ringing in his ears and the gentle fluttering of his dress’s or more precisely his uniform’s skirt around this knees. Flustered as he undoubtedly was he nevertheless managed to recognise that in this urgency he cut a most undignified figure as he progressed towards the drawing room door. Women he knew never moved in such a bumbling manner.

Calm…deep breathes…  the instruction whispered, following the direction  his heart slowly stopped racing, Now how did Madam teach us how to walk.

“Short steps, slightly swaying hips.” he murmured, his deportment lesson still fresh in his mind.

Excellent. Continue with the deep breathes…yes that’s good and slowly exhale. the reassuring tone managed to sustain his newly acquired calmness and although still anxious was nevertheless becoming less overwrought as the voice continued, You still have a few seconds to spare, time enough to check your appearance before entering.

Looking in the mirror he could see that his appearance although superficially acceptable somehow did not seem quite right. It was vital that he had to appear as flawless as possible if he was to deceive Miss Forsythe into believing he was indeed a housemaid, the anxiety he felt was now overtaken this imperative. Somewhere in his head he heard a quiet voice say,

Yes, we really should be more presentable.

As a male he always tried to look his best even in the straightened circumstances he suddenly found himself in when he lost his position at the university, he still managed to affect respectability even though his clothes had seen better days. Now, and despite the humiliating arrangement he was forced enter into this admirable habit remained close to the surface and he took stock of the figure in the mirror. His eye, although untrained in these matters, was drawn to his apron which he considered slightly yet still noticeably disarranged, he immediately straightened it ensuring the straps over his shoulders were aligned properly. Turning around he checked if the bow Miss Goodbody had tied was still in place and secure. He sighed at the perceived imperfections in his appearance and fidgeted at his fringe, or at least the wig’s fringe until he was satisfied it was in some way satisfactory. His attention then turned to his cap which he felt was perhaps a little off to the right however he quickly became frustrated as he remembered Miss Goodbody had fixed it firmly in place with several hairpins. He sighed once more and considered removing the pins but quickly decided he did not have the expertise or time to rearrange it.

 “Maybe I’m just been too fussy.” he whispered, now quite captivated by the mirror’s reflection and barely aware that the clothes he wore were those of a female – and a housemaid at that.

No, you’re right. He heard the reply inside his head. The last thing we need is Miss Forsythe to suspect anything. We were lucky the last time. Have you checked the seams of our stockings are straight?

“I suppose you’re right.” he said quietly and turning to inspect his hosiery.

One last glance and he was finally satisfied he presented a reasonable facsimile of a housemaid. However as he began to move towards the drawing room door he suddenly became aware of an unfamiliar bulkiness between his legs. He had been so overwhelmed by his circumstances, so spellbound by the mirror’s reflection that he had almost forgotten that Miss Forsythe had misunderstood his anxiety for the symptoms of a girl experiencing her menses and had insisted he wear the feminine hygiene product she had given him. To his utter shame he now wore this pad between his legs just like the girl he now appeared to be.

No need to feel like that.  The soft voice returned once more. Quite the opposite she believes you to be female, a girl, a little gauche but a girl nonetheless. You should be proud. A few more days and you will be so proficient you will wonder why you were worried at all.  Do  you remember that time when…

“Ah…I… “ he interrupted the voice abruptly and giving one last look in the mirror said in a quietly determined voice” I really need to go in now.”

His gentle knock was answered by the now familiar and clear voice of Miss Goodbody

+++++++++++++++++++

“One moment.” I said barely hearing the timid tapping on the door, Eleanor removed her hand from under my skirt with her usual sly grin and I spent a few moments arranging my skirt and blouse before checking my make-up to ensure it hadn’t been completely ruined.

“Oh for heaven’s sake, Felicia.” Eleanor laughed “It’s only your housemaid, not the queen.”

“Appearances, Eleanor, appearances.” I answered, a little peeved at her nonchalance although I did notice her adjusting her blouse and check her hair in the mirror. “You of all people should know a mistress must always present the perfect image to her maid. After all, how can one expect her girl to achieve and maintain the highest standards if her mistress’s appearance is even slightly dishevelled?”

“Her girl!” Felicia sniggered, pursing her lips as she applied the finishing touches to her lipstick.

“Eleanor…please, the girl must be quite traumatised already.” I said in my most serious voice although I knew I was wasting my time “Now please try to be gentle.”

She sidled up to me and smiled, gently brushing my cheek before her hand dropped to my breast.

“Oh I’m always gentle darling, you should know that.”

“You’re incorrigible.” I feigned annoyance and kissed her on the lips before turning my attention to the door.

“Enter”

The primly uniformed figure slipped into the room and I must say to my surprise walked in a reasonably feminine gait across the room, a slight, almost imperceptible sway to the hips and I could see the concentration in the face as one foot was placed in front of the other.  Not perfect by any means and a little mechanical but considerably better than some of my previous housemaids, one or two of which walked like ploughboys or dockers. It took me months to train them properly so I was more than pleased to see that my short tutorial had borne some fruit. Although the thought did strike me that perhaps part of the reason for his new feminine bearing may have been the thick pad between his legs. As we all know such an item, necessary as it is at that time of the month, can be a tad cumbersome for any woman. Just another one of the vaguely irritating things that as women we have to contend with but such things have become a natural part of our lives. However I would imagine for a male to have a wide and substantial wad of cotton between his legs and knowing it to be a feminine hygiene product would have both a mental and physical impact.

Whatever the reason, his walk was now less masculine, his presence seemingly diluted of maleness than when he had previously appeared in front of us. From the corner of my eye I noticed the practically undetectable upturn of Eleanor’s mouth into a discreet smile; I suspect this subtle change was not lost on her either.

“You rang, Madam.” he said his eyes fixed on the floor.

“Ahem…” I coughed pointedly, he raised his eyes and as I met his I tilted my head knowingly.

“Oh…yes…I’m sorry Madam.” he apologised in a manner that was surprisingly genuine and managed a reasonable attempt at a curtsy.

Although I suppose I shouldn’t complain, it’s hard enough to get girls to wear a proper uniform these days never mind convincing them of the requirement to curtsy when they are spoken to. It can be so tiresome training a girl to become a competent housemaid but it does have its rewards. Standards have fallen in recent years and a well trained servant girl is not as commonplace as one would expect so it can be most gratifying when a guest or relative comments favourably on a well trained servant girl. It reflects well on the mistress of a house. However the very idea of transforming a male into a female servant girl, a member of the supposedly stronger, dominant sex reduced to a lowly uniformed housemaid was quite audacious and although I would never show it – is incredibly thrilling. Having complete authority over a male, having control over every aspect of his life, subjugating him to my will, my every whim, was a long held desire ever since I heard my dear mother speak of her alma mater, St Jude’s where such extraordinary transformations took place. It doesn’t take much encouragement to get her and her friends to reminisce on their schooldays and I now understand the wistful, or perhaps it was lustful, looks on their faces as they remember those days fondly. I confess the anticipation of feminising a male does make me quite moist.

And here he was properly capped and aproned in the morning uniform of my previous housemaid, Sarah. Perhaps it was a tad tight around the shoulders and a little loose in the hips but not so ill fitting as to draw undue or overly critical attention to the wearer. When he is a little more used to his role and has assimilated more feminine traits I will have him fitted for several uniforms and depending on how proficient he is may even have him measured for appropriate foundation garments.   His misfortune in developing a small yet noticeable female bosom resulting from an adverse reaction to experimental medication he took as part of a drug trial, has and indeed, will continue to make my task so much easier.

It was clear from the manner in which his hands gripped his apron and the slight tremor in his voice that he was extremely anxious, due undoubtedly to Eleanor’s presence and her little gift to him. I was inordinately curious and not a little excited to know had he followed her instruction and inserted the sanitary pad into his girdle. The very idea of a male having such a uniquely feminine item between his legs was almost too much to bear and it took all my willpower to prevent my hand from touching myself.  A surreptitious glance at Eleanor confirmed she was having similar thoughts.

“An understandable slip… Nancy.” I said acknowledging his apology and noticed a visible wince at the mention of his new feminine name and felt a gentle admonishment would help him understand he was now a servant and standards had to be maintained. I smiled benignly as I delivered the mild reprimand, “But please be more mindful in future.”

“Yes Madam.” he answered timidly and accompanied by another curtsy, his shame etched on his clearly self-conscious face.

“Oh don’t be too hard on the girl.” Eleanor said as she smiled sympathetically at my new maid. “After all darling, the girl is new to domestic service but I’m sure she will be a quick learner. Isn’t that right my dear?”

So typical of Eleanor. I thought, observing the scene unfolding in front of me. Girls, and it’s almost invariably a girl with Eleanor, is like a flighty horse, gain her trust and confidence with a carrot before throwing on the saddle. The girl usually falls for the sympathetic smile, the warm and comforting words and those hypnotic grey eyes, before she knows it the girl is completely under her control. And William or should I say Nancy was no different.

“Oh yes Miss.” he answered eagerly and visibly relieved at Eleanor’s seemingly compassionate attitude and automatically curtsied “Thank you Miss.” 

“Some girls are born for domestic service.” Eleanor continued, furtively glancing at me  those hypnotic eyes now turning mischievous, silently  informing me of her intent. She smiled benignly once more as she added, “Others must be trained.”

She left the sentence hanging in the air and looked directly into the young man’s eyes, not saying another word.

I could see his mind racing and it was not hard to imagine what was going on in that confused little male brain of his. Naturally to a social inferior, which his uniform affirmed he indeed was not to mention a male masquerading as a girl, a friendly smile was most welcome and any remark no matter how peculiar that came from such a considerate lady should be acknowledged positively. I was not disappointed.

“Yes Miss.” he replied with another curtsy.

“Yes I can see she has come to service quite late.” Eleanor addressed me but not taking her eyes from him “That’s not a criticism…ah…emm.. Oh how dreadful…I seem to have forgotten your name, my dear.”

I could see the shame building up inside him and the nascent flicker of a deep mortification appeared in his cheeks. He looked at me, I smiled understandingly in an attempt to encourage him but it was also most important for him to know and realise his place as my maid. His acceptance of his new name was an intrinsic part of his role as a servant girl and to ensure he was in no doubt as to my uncompromising attitude I nodded my head solemnly and raised my eyebrows a full quarter of an inch.

I suppose for a male suddenly being forced to discard your very masculine name and acknowledge its replacement by a particularly feminine one must be extremely crushing to the male ego and sense of self.  However surely even he understood how ridiculous a maid called William would sound. It was yet another little dilemma for him but one he would have to resolve within himself.

Thankfully the boy had enough sense and recognised what was required and I smiled as I saw him try, and fail, to suppress his deepening humiliation. Of course if Eleanor was aware of this indignity she didn’t show it.

“Nancy…Miss.” he eventually managed to say in a voice so quiet I had to strain to hear it, his cheeks  were now flushed with the soft pink glow of his growing humiliation.

“Please speak up girl.” Eleanor said brusquely which startled him somewhat.

“Nancy, Miss.” he quickly complied, louder this time but his discomfiture clearly on display as he once more clutched his apron tightly.

“Ah yes… yes, of course…Nancy.” Eleanor pondered this for a moment and turned to me  “Yes I remember now, you said the poor girl’s name was Wilhelmina or Wilma or something. Nancy is a far more suitable name for a housemaid.”

Her attention soon returned to the young man, asking in a rather blunt manner.

“Don’t you think so…Nancy?”

“Emm…ah... yes, Miss.” William replied his eyes darting to me for guidance.

I could see a slight tremble in his lower lip, clearly unsettled by this change in her mood. She can be a little terse at times and I could not rebuke her I front of a servant however the last thing I wanted, when I was so close to achieving my ambition, was an attempted escape by my new male housemaid.

 It was quite obvious a little support was required for the increasingly and by now visibly perturbed young man.

“A life in domestic service may not have been something…” I began and smiled warmly at him “Nancy thought of as his…I mean her natural rank in life but in the few hours she has been in this house she has shown a remarkable aptitude for the position of housemaid and indeed has grown into the role. It can be difficult for girls to come to terms with their new life. And as you quite rightly said, Eleanor we should not be too hard on her.”

“Oh I hope I didn’t give that impression darling.” Eleanor gushed, a gentle smile returning and her demeanour becoming affable once more. She turned her gaze to the feminised young man continuing in a pleasant tone “I’m sure Nancy will make a splendid servant girl…once she is trained properly that is. Isn’t that so my dear?”

If the young man read anything into this remark he did not show it, it was glaringly obvious that he was far too relieved by her friendly smile and her return to a more congenial mood to concentrate on any words she had said.   His intense anxiety seemed to have abated and although still appearing a little nervous his hands fell loosely by side and under the warm beam of her pleasant face she drew him into her almost mesmerizing orbit. Eleanor has the most remarkable ability whenever the mood takes her to engender a sense of trust of anyone with whom she chooses to engage.  I once saw her transform the famously antagonistic and ice cold, Countess Rathgar into an adoring admirer in a matter of minutes and within the hour had bedded her. On another occasion she persuaded the Baroness of Hanau-Dillenberg  to act as her maid  as a jape at country house where she had been invited to spend a weekend. Of course being German,  the Baroness would not have been known to her hostess or guests and  was so desperate to sleep with Eleanor she readily agreed. The girl willingly spent the next six weeks as her housemaid before her mother arrived for a short visit which naturally ended the young Countess’s brief spell as a domestic servant and reluctantly she had to return home. I strongly suspect Eleanor had slept with the mother before they left. Unsurprisingly her talent extends to the animal kingdom, I’ve witnessed her subdue two ferocious Dobermanns with those magnificent grey eyes and expressive face of hers.

So, calming an excitable young housemaid would cause her little trouble. 

“How are you feeling now my dear?” she said, exuding empathy and beckoned him to advance.

“Ah…emm…I…”he began, moving closer yet unsure how to respond but with her eyes locked  firmly onto his and in thrall to her pleasant smile he managed to add, a little hesitantly “ I am much better Miss, thank  you, Miss.”

“So good to hear Nancy.” Eleanor responded, maintaining her smile as her eyes drew him closer still.

Knowing Eleanor as I do his reaction did not surprise me, however even I was taken by surprise at the deftness with which her left hand raised the skirt of his uniform and her right was suddenly between his legs.

His head turned to me, eyes wide in panic, his pale pink lipsticked lips opening simultaneously but unable to speak. As her hand lingered another whimpering sound emanated from his mouth but this time noticeably higher in pitch.

“Yes…my dear.” she said, her fingers examining the gusset of his girdle, intermittently pressing gently on the slight bulge which thankfully, from where I observed her examination, appeared to be the substantial pad. “You have positioned it correctly but it is rather bulky. I’m sure you find it a little uncomfortable when you walk?”

Still holding the uniform’s skirt exposing him in a most humiliating manner, she smiled at him for confirmation.

The poor unfortunate was still trying to process what was happening and unable to speak could only nod his agreement.

“Yes I thought you might.” Eleanor said and casually let the skirt fall from her hand.

“Have you quite finished?” I finally intervened with the rhetorical question.

“Of course darling.” she laughed lightly, unfazed by my mild sarcasm “I was only ensuring Nancy here  was comfortable with her new pad. Now a sherry, perhaps?”

My new maid stood motionless, still recovering from his latest ordeal at Eleanor’s hands.

“Nancy!” My tone a little louder than I would have preferred but necessary in order to rouse him from his trance like state. His face suddenly registered my voice and he looked at me blankly as if emerging from a dream.

“Fetch the sherry, like a good girl.” I said gesturing towards the decanter and glasses on a tray resting on the carved mahogany sideboard.

“Ah…umm….yes…sherry…yes…of course…”he stammered, reality beginning to creep into his pretty face as he slowly returned to something resembling full consciousness. Just as he was about to turn I coughed lightly, immediately catching his attention and I raised my eyebrows slightly.

“Oh…Yes Madam.” he corrected himself and curtsied, I caught Eleanor’s eye as he made his way across the room.

“As I said she does need training Felicia.” Eleanor drawled as her eyes followed his stilted but quite acceptable feminine gait as he moved towards his destination. She returned her attention to me and smirked as she patted the sofa “Yes I suppose the pad is slightly uncomfortable.”

As he returned I took up my position at the opposite end from Eleanor as we watched him lower the tray onto the table in front of us. Unsure of what to do next he looked first at me and then Eleanor for instruction.

“Please sit, Nancy.” I said motioning to the space between us. He looked blankly at me.

“Eh…sit…Miss?” he asked unsure he heard properly which I suppose was understandable. After all it would be most unusual for a mistress, while entertaining a guest, to invite her maid to sit next to her.

“Yes, sit you silly goose.” Eleanor repeated my instruction and patted the space between us and laughing lightly added “We won’t bite you.”

“But…it’s …I’m not sure…”he babbled and I could see the thought of sitting next to Eleanor was making him anxious once again and it would only be moments until he fled.

It is at times like these a mistress needs to show her authority, a new maid requires a firm hand if she is to attain the appropriate standard. Naturally Eleanor was right he does need to be trained properly.

“Sit…girl!” I ordered brusquely leaving him in no doubt as to my impatience, visibly confused he immediately obeyed albeit in a most unfeminine fashion. He sat, his skirt askew with the lace hem of his, well more correctly my, slip showing. Furthermore, his knees were far too much apart and in a manner no girl of any social standing, even a domestic servant would adopt.

 I pondered to myself.

 He has wonderful potential of course, with proper instruction, a little patience and sufficient time I think he could be moulded into anything I wish him to be.

As I began to weigh the serious issue of his future I was distracted by Eleanor’s obvious interest, or more accurately her fascination with my new housemaid although I doubt if the feeling was mutual as the young man was clearly quite unnerved by her. Only to be expected I suppose as he hardly anticipated an instruction to wear a sanitary pad and then inspected to ensure he was indeed wearing it. Having passed that particular test, and miraculously remained standing, I’d imagine he assumed to have been allowed depart but as always Eleanor had other ideas. Perhaps an intervention would have been the right thing to do but my curiosity with Eleanor’s approach intrigued me and I held my tongue. Indeed, I had to stifle a laugh as Eleanor with her index finger, moved his legs together to achieve a more feminine aspect to his graceless posture. Naturally I was delighted to observe him notice his faux pas with obvious embarrassment and tug the uniform’s skirt over the inch of lace peeking out from underneath. By now his anxiety was evident but Eleanor had already perceived this and although she said nothing she fixed those spellbinding eyes on his and smiled reassuringly holding his hands in hers as she effortlessly transferred a measure of comfort to him. Remarkably I could see a calmness visibly descend on him. She continued to hold his hands and ensured he kept eye contact until she was quite satisfied that he had settled sufficiently. Leaving go of his hands she patted him on the cheek much in the way one would reward a favourite lap dog for behaving properly in front of guests. I recall her using a similar technique at the last hunt of the season on one of my more feisty geldings, no one wished to ride it but after performing whatever it is she does the animal was eating out of her hand and responded to her every request throughout the chase, jumping like a gazelle over every hedgerow and ditch. Of course my new servant ‘girl’ is not gelded but considering the rigid, figure forming foundation garment he is wearing not to mention the addition  of his new feminine hygiene product- he might as well be.  His small bosom which had been rising and falling quite rapidly from the consternation he was undoubtedly experiencing had now calmed considerably.

Eleanor’s gift is rare indeed.

Although still nervous, the look of panic had slowly deserted his face and he seemed to respond to Eleanor’s ministrations, his hands relaxed in his aproned lap and the hunted look seemed to have left his eyes.

“As I said I won’t bite you my dear.” she said softly continuing to soothe him as she gently swept his hair, or should I say his wig’s hair behind his ear.”Yes Nancy, you are a pretty thing.”

 He blushed sweetly and cast his eyes downward, self consciously keeping his knees clamped firmly together.

“Yes, she certainly is.” I agreed and following Eleanor’s example patted his lap reassuringly.

“Your mistress has performed a remarkable feat Nancy.” Eleanor said her eyes briefly meeting mine before locking onto his, her free hand caressing his cheek. “Quite remarkable.”

A quizzical, vaguely concerned look came over him once more and I thought I detected an upturn in the rate of his breathing but Eleanor’s eyes and smile seemed for the moment at least to retain a degree of control.

“I thought you an ungainly, slightly gauche girl.” she said quietly and I noticed her grip on his hand tighten somewhat “It is only now that when I look very hard  I can see the masculinity under the make-up and hair.”

A low whine suddenly filled the air, his attempt to rise from the sofa was easily dealt with as Eleanor and I held on to his wrists. She was first to speak and whispered softly,

“Hush now my dear, you have nothing to fret about.”

Another whimper escaped from the now increasingly flustered young man, he tried once more to rise but again we held firm. Perhaps it was the calming effect of Eleanor gently stroking his face or maybe it was my reassuring hand on his thigh, whatever it was somewhere inside he began to understand this turn of events. Lodged firmly between two formidable women larger and probably stronger than he, there could be no escape.

“Unfortunately Miss Forsythe discovered your coat.” I explained in a soft, almost apologetic tone and in tandem my grip on his wrist relaxing just enough to show my good will, I continued in a quiet voice. “Together with some dreadful slips of the tongue particularly referring to you as William and with your slightly unfeminine gait  Miss Forsythe’s suspicions were aroused and…well…here we are…”

Looking from me to Eleanor, who nodded her head sympathetically; it was obvious to him that she was now aware of his shameful secret. He attempted to utter something but the poor dear appeared to be still in shock and remained speechless.

 Eleanor, immediately recognising the effect on him, responded in a comforting tone.

“No need to worry, dear boy.” she said in an uncharacteristically but genuine comforting tone and I could see her grip had also loosened somewhat. “Your mistress is quite correct, a male coat ignited my curiosity and it was only then I joined the dots so to speak. As I said apart from one or two somewhat odd aspects of your overall demeanour you managed to present yourself as a reasonably convincing female. Why, even when I examined the positioning of your sanitary pad I was completely fooled, no discernible evidence of masculinity whatsoever.”

At the mention of this, as I still held his hand, I felt what little strength he had ebb away and although still managing to remain sitting  upright his body seemed to go quite limp. A quick glance from Eleanor confirmed he had detected this also.

“And your bosom although not exactly what one would describe as buxom,” she continued supportively as she cupped his left breast in her hand “are more developed than either of my nieces.”

Yet another muffled moan escaped from the young man.

“And I do hope you won’t mind me saying so Eleanor,” I said brightly as I casually straightened his apron and removed a stray hair from his shoulder “but he is far prettier than either of the girls.”

“Of course you are correct darling.” Eleanor concurred , squeezing his hand reassuringly and flashed another encouraging smile at him “One cannot deny the evidence of one’s eyes darling. Nancy is far more attractive and even though unschooled and a little deficient in the finer points of feminine deportment is undeniably more feminine than either of them.”

“I think a restorative is in order.” I said and pouring a small sherry, handed the glass to the bewildered young man.

Such was his inertia I had to hold the glass to his lips and tip it slowly and carefully into his mouth, it took several seconds before I could see a flicker of light returning to his eyes. A second sip saw his body regain some semblance of life.

He looked first to me and then to Eleanor.

“I… I must …I have to…”he began clearly still a little disconcerted as if waking from a dream.

“Leave?” I suggested and moved closer to him.

Clearly still unsettled by Eleanor’s revelation he nodded his head in agreement.

“Oh don’t be so silly, there is no need for that.” Eleanor assured him and she too inched nearer the nervous youth, her knee now touching his.

“But… I…I’m male… I could not…it’s…”he stumbled desperately trying to gather his thoughts into a coherent sentence.

“Yes, a male with breasts.” Eleanor said not in an unkind way as an exquisitely polished fingernail traced a line across his protruding glands, her voice remained soft yet there was a distinct edge to it “And please do not be offended but from what I’ve felt or more precisely what I have not felt between your legs, a male in name only. A most unusual if unfortunate set of physical characteristics for the stronger sex don’t you think?”

“It’s not my …it was the…”

“Yes, yes…” I comforted him seeing he was close to tears “We know it’s not your fault but surely you must realise you bear little resemblance to what one would describe as a ‘real man’.”

“Whatever that is?” Eleanor guffawed however after receiving an admonishing look from me immediately returned to the task at hand, reassuring my new housemaid  of his suitability for the role.

“And you have such a pleasant face.”Eleanor quickly added “Not like those ghastly beasts one sees striding moronically around town. No, you have the fine and delicate feature of our sex. It is no wonder I did not immediately recognise your correct sex. ”

Her encouraging smile seemed to calm him a little.

 “As I have already said,” she continued in a voice that was both soothing and supportive “Only for the coat and the other inadvertent clues I would never have guessed you were male. Of course you are a little awkward and somewhat ungraceful in your gait but nothing I have not seen in my own sex, indeed in my own family. After a few weeks training that dreadful lumbering male stride will disappear and your movement will take on a more feminine aspect.”

Although he still seemed a little tentative nonetheless his anxiety had clearly and greatly diminished and like a nervous animal meeting a new master or mistress he appeared to becoming used to Eleanor’s presence.

One can only encourage a child, for that was how he was behaving, for so long before one is in danger of enabling a sense of self absorption, particularly in a male. The less time they have to wallow in self-pity the better. It was time to return to the natural order of things.

“Feel better now.” I said.

“Yes…yes…thank you.” he replied, a noticeable degree of relief in his voice.

I tilted my head and raised my eyebrows at his obvious oversight and to his credit he immediately understood.

“Yes, thank you Madam.” he corrected himself and I rewarded him with another smile.

“Even though Miss Forsythe is now aware of your male identity,” I said, patting him gently on the knee “You will continue to be called Nancy.”

Even though he did not show it in his face I could feel the sense of disappointment and humiliation behind those sad blue eyes. He could no longer take refuge in the one thing that still defined his masculinity. My eyes locked onto his, silently demanding an answer, the only answer acceptable. His eyes dropped to the floor.

“Yes Madam.” he replied quietly and I could feel his mortification seeping from every pore.

Having re-established the hierarchical relationship I casually smoothed my skirt and pointed to the table several feet away.

“Now, be a good girl Nancy and fetch me the pink folder.”

“Shoulders back hold your head up Nancy.” Eleanor instructed him as he made his way back to us.

“That is a list of your duties and how to fulfil them properly.” I said, gesturing to the folder as he reached us. “It tells you among other things how to arrange my wardrobe, the care of my clothes, exactly how you should act when guests are present, the correct uniform to wear on specified occasions and what foundation garments to be worn and much more besides. The list is extensive, study it carefully as infractions will be punished. I do hope you appreciate you are receiving an excellent salary and extremely comfortable and well appointed accommodation and naturally I expect you to adhere to my standards. I will not tolerate mediocrity, tardiness, slovenliness, laziness or any other form of laxness. You should also know I value obedience above all else. Do you understand Nancy?”

My tone, although perhaps not as affable as minutes earlier was certainly not officious after all I did not want to panic him into attempting an escape. With a little difficulty, as I was excited with the prospect of ensuring his complete subjugation, I managed to control the timbre of my voice and spoke in a matter of fact manner as if addressing a male in a housemaid’s uniform was an everyday occurrence for both of us. It had the desired effect. Observing him from our seated positions it was clear that wearing a maid’s uniform with the accompanying restricting female foundation wear had reduced the fading flame of his masculinity to mere embers. And I had no intention of allow a male phoenix to rise from the ashes. Whatever male confidence he’d once possessed would soon dwindle and pale into insignificance under the weight and constriction of his heavy corsetry and a housemaid’s uniform.

Now that he had almost recovered from his ordeal and the fog inside his head was lifting it was quite obvious from his face that his tiny male brain was working at a rate of knots weighing up the situation and the alternatives. I could imagine the conversation, perhaps if he was wearing trousers he would see things differently, perhaps if he was in a better financial situation, perhaps if the drug trial had not diminished his manliness, perhaps…Then his eyes seemed to glaze over momentarily.

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps… the voice inside said Does it make a difference? No. Do we have a choice? No What exactly is the alternative? None.

Answer the mistress.

For a moment his eyes winced before drifting towards the door and perhaps the thought of fleeing crossed his mind but it seemed to vanish as quickly as it occurred as if some internal dissent had been quashed

“Yes Madam.” The answer came in a soft voice, his face revealing the utter confusion that was taking place inside his head.

“Excellent.” Eleanor said unable to contain her exuberance and blatantly ignoring my disapproving look for infringing onto my domain she persisted “You will soon become used to domestic service, I have no doubt that in a matter of weeks and with the correct training life as a housemaid will be second nature to you.”

“Yes Miss.” He replied.

“And…”she continued with a smile as she took my hand in hers “as my own maid may not return for some time I’m sure your mistress will not mind me borrowing you for an afternoon or two.”

He looked at me, once more his face betrayed his discomfort.

“Mistress…”he repeated quietly, as if he had never heard the word before, and I now recognised the look on his face was more than discomfort it was also one of shame. It was as though he had only now finally realised his humiliation did not end at being dressed as a girl, he was now a maidservant, a female domestic and like all domestic servants had to adhere to the conventions between employer and employee. And of course the most important of these was to accept that the person who now held authority over them was to be referred to as ‘the mistress’. For a once proud male it was probably a humiliating prospect however I’m sure he will get used it after all he is curtsying as if he has been doing it all his life.

“Yes, your mistress.” Eleanor confirmed, ensuring he understood this was the correct term to be used when referring the head of the household. “Whom I’m sure will oblige me.”

“Well perhaps after she is trained properly.” I answered. “Isn’t that so Nancy?”

“Ah…I….”he hesitated, being referred to as ‘she’ also seemed to unsettle him but at least he had enough intelligence to understand this is now how he would be viewed and  finally accepted his new pronoun. “Yes Madam.”

For a moment I thought he was going to cry but the sharp ringing of the telephone cut through the air immediately diverting our attention and snapping him out of his self-pity.

“Now run along, Nancy and change into your afternoon uniform and be sure to study your duties.” I instructed casually as I moved to the telephone. “I’ll ring the bell when I need you.”

The order seemed to pull him back albeit a little unsettled into the present.

“Y…yes…yes. Madam.” he said and to my surprise even remembered to curtsy and as he turned to leave Eleanor called him to her.

“And don’t you worry, your secret is safe with me.” Eleanor said with a smile and opened her handbag “It’s been a trying time for you Nancy, You may need another one of these.”

She handed him a sanitary pad.

“No need to thank me.” she said and waved her hand dismissing him.

As he made his way to the door and still in earshot Eleanor turned to me,

“I think he will make a perfect housemaid.”