The Music Lovers - Part 2 with illustration

 

Hopefully you all had a good Christmas.

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

The illustration bears little association with the story.

Hope you have a good 2024.

Take care.

Carrie

The Music Lovers (Part 2)

By

Carrie P

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“La Divina.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Now, stand up.” she instructed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, how adorable.” Miss Purkiss cooed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Naturally, darling.” Miss Crawford answered.

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

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

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

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

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

She looked at Claude and then turned to her friend,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She turned to Claude,

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

He shook his head, unable to speak.

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

Madam Cabaldi nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

The End.

 

The Music Lovers (Pt 1) with image

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

Hopefully I may be able to post some images also.

Thanks for your patience and hopefully you may enjoy it.

Carrie

The Music Lovers

by

CarrieP

 

 

C

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Naturally, he apologised.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 T

o be continued.

The Shape of Things to Come - New Image

 The image below reflects my fascination -and I hope some of the blog's readers- with ladies Victorian fashions. Just imagine putting yourself in the shoes or perhaps that should be corset and petticoats of this feminised male.

Thanks to Jennifer for providing and inserting the text.

I'm close to completing another story but  my focus remains elsewhere and not sure when I'll be in a position to post it. Hopefully within a few weeks.

Thanks for your patience.

Take care

Carrie.

A Mutual Understanding- new (very) short story with Illustration.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        At the time of my last post I thought my situation had improved enough to allow me to at least write semi- regularly however, events in my life have proved me wrong yet again. 

I'm struggling and once again not in a good place. The story posted below is very short and under normal circumstances would have taken 3-4 weeks, it eventually took me 4 months to complete.  

Thank you to the readers who were kind enough to comment on my last post, I greatly appreciate it.

I'm really unsure if/when I will be able to get my head together to post another story( strange I get inspiration all the time but cannot focus) but I will try to post some illustration at the top of this blog.

Hopefully Jennie who has helped in formatting the text will be able to help.

Take care of yourselves. 

Carrie

A Mutual Understanding.

By

 

CarrieP

 

 

 

 

“I do hope you won’t be offended Caroline.” Amelia said, eyeing her friend in the mirror above the mantelpiece as she retouched her make-up, “But you appear to have a talent for engaging the most...shall I say ...unusual domestic servants.”

Caroline laughed lightly at her friend’s remark but before she could speak Amelia continued,

“I thought she was going to faint when I complimented her on her figure.”

“I was going to say odd.” Georgina, her other friend added somewhat distractedly, her concentration focused on adjusting the garters on her girdle. “Even with the current servant problem surely there was someone more suitable. The girl looks as if she’s frightened of her own shadow. I thought she was going to keel over when she opened the door to us. She legd were visibly trembling.”

“I recall your last girl seemed to be more of a dairy maid than a housemaid, such stout legs and she had a voice like a foghorn.” Amelia said as she put the finishing touches to her lipstick “Although I must say this one is far shapelier, she fits into her uniform much better, she’s obviously well girdled.”

“How very observant of you, darling.” Caroline replied somewhat sarcastically as she began fitting her earrings. “You always had an eye for a pleasing figure.”

“At least the girl is wearing the appropriate uniform.” Georgina answered with a smirk “Unlike some households I could mention. “

“That’s most unfair Georgina.” Amelia answered defensively “You know how difficult it is these days to get girls to wear a cap and apron as part of their uniform. They feel it beneath them to be properly attired the way a housemaid should. Our mothers would not tolerate such lax standards.”

“True.” her friend sighed with a slight weariness as she smoothed her sstockings.“But there was ample supply of servant girls in our mothers’ day and they had little difficulty acquiring domestics. I suppose we all have to make some compromises these days. Although, it seems Caroline’s new girl doesn’t seem to mind wearing a uniform. How did you manage it, darling?”

“I suppose you could call it luck.” Caroline admitted with a smile, turning her head to admire her ruby earrings in the mirror before ringing the servants’ bell. “I’ll tell you all about it later but we really do need to dress for dinner or we will be late.”

“Oh you are not going to fob us off that easily, darling.” Amelia said glancing at the clock “We have plenty of time, our gowns are laid out and our make-up is done.”

“Luck?” Georgina repeated, with a quizzical look.

 Before Caroline could answer the door frame creaked and a figure partially hidden by the door appeared, the face under a maid’s cap appeared startled at the sight of the three women in various stages of undress. 

“Oh do come in girl!” Georgina said impatiently “we’re not going to bite you.”

“Don’t frighten the girl, Georgina.” Amelia chided her friend before smiling at the obviously alarmed servant “Come in girl, we only want help dressing.”

A low whine drifted across the room.

Caroline moved to the door and eased the maid inside and she guided them both to the bed where her friends stood.

“No need to be nervous, my dear,” Amelia addressed the clearly anxious servant “your mistress tells us you have entered her service through luck.”

The maid’s gaze fell to the floor.

“Yes luck.” Caroline said softly taking her maid’s hands in hers. “Unfortunately, bad luck for you,  good luck for me. But there is no need to be ashamed.”

“Bad luck... good luck... ashamed...” Georgina blurted in an exasperated voice “Will you please tell us what is going on?”

“You see my new maid had a most unfortunate run of bad luck at the card table on a recent visit to a private club and was unable to meet the debt. It was even more unfortunate for him that it was Mother that the debt was owed to. However, to make a very long story short she did agree to accept the IOU.” Caroline explained to her friends as the maid’s hands began tugging in an agitated manner at the pristine starched white apron. 

“Ah...I see now.” Amelia said.

Georgina nodded her understanding and smiled sympathetically at the maid.

 “It culminated in quite a sizable figure which William was unable to pay in full. So he came to a mutual understanding with Mother, isn’t that right my dear?”

“ W...Will... William...did we hear you correctly, Caroline.” Amelia and Georgina exclaimed in unison as they moved closer to the increasingly red faced figure. Did you say... William?”

Caroline smiled and merely nodded. The maid’s face grew puce, and it was obvious that he desperately wanted to flee but Caroline had a firm grip of his wrist. The thought also ran through his mind, where would he run to?

“Caroline, you mean to tell us this creature is a male?” Georgina was the first to speak as she lifted placed a finger under the chin of the shamed-faced young man and lifted his head.

“Well, he was quite effeminate to begin with.” Caroline said “But yes I suppose anatomically, he is male.”

“But... his figure?” Amelia asked as her hands cupped his bosom.

“Soft artificial breast forms but as Mother has discovered, he does have potential in that area.” Caroline explained and as Georgina’s hands began exploring the maid’s waist, she added “As you correctly spotted, he is tightly girdled so his feminine shape is the result of rigid and sturdy foundations. Mother was most helpful in choosing these.”

“A male maid. How utterly delicious!” Georgina trilled, her voice quivering with obvious excitement as she continued to probe the young man with her piercing grey eyes and, much to the maid’s embarrassment, eager hands.

“I find this hard to believe Caroline.”  Amelia spoke quietly, her expression clearly indicated her incredulity, her eyes fixed on the figure in front of her. “I really must see for myself.”

“Your scepticism is understandable.” Caroline replied and gestured towards the maid.  By all means inspect him yourself.”

Georgina lifted the maid’s skirt to reveal a pink satin slip with a deep black lace hem.

“Very pretty.” Amelia said as she lifted the slip to reveal a white long- legged girdle which reached almost to the maid’s knees, a wide satin panel extended from the crotch to the top of the girdle just under the ribcage.

Apart a slight drooping of the shoulders and an almost inaudible sob, the object of their inspection remained perfectly still and quiet as the examination continued.

“He doesn’t seem to mind being inspected.”  Amelia asked, looking for a reaction.

“No, he is quite docile now.”Caroline confirmed her friend’s opinion. “Mother quickly put a stop to any of his masculine histrionics. I told him to expect the examination once I had told you of our arrangement.”

“I think you are trying to make fun of us Caroline.” Georgina interrupted, her hand moving over the satin covered pubic area. “It looks perfectly normal for a female, a bit fleshy perhaps but many girls have excess fatty tissue on their mons pubis. I can discern no disgusting male bulge.”

“Try underneath” Caroline helpfully suggested with a smile.

“Ah...yes” Amelia said as she located the object of her interest “ I can feel the little thing now, it’s actually twitching as I touch it. Georgina, you really must inspect this.” Amelia called out to her friend, her voice  brimming with excitement.

Georgina stood in front of him and looking him directly in the eyes, slipped her hand between his legs. He could no longer retrain himself and he began to sob,  his knees trembled as the women’s hands reached between his legs.

“Oh do stop blubbering.” Caroline admonished him “Or I will give you something to cry about.”

 “I can feel something, but it’s so small and well hidden, it’s barely discernible.” Georgina said, clearly surprised as her hand continued to stroke the almost negligible protuberance “But, it’s definitely nothing a woman would have.”

“He is doubly girdled to firmly secure the ghastly male organ in such a way that it ensures a smooth feminine outline.” Caroline explained. “Now that you have established my new maid’s sex can we now get dressed?”  Caroline said, gesturing her friends to retreat to allow her maid to compose himself.

“Well, when I said your maid was odd, I’d meant a little peculiar.” Georgina said, now gently examining the maid’s buttocks with her hand. “We really had no idea ‘she’ was a male.”

“Yes.” Amelia agreed “Granted, his gait is a little inelegant but we do have friends in our circle that are more ungainly.”

“And more masculine” Georgina volunteered “Take Maria Glostrop for example, next to her this girl...young man, I should say, seems like a ballerina.”

Georgina stood in front of the red faced maid whose head had dropped and a single tear had begun to trickle down his face. She placed her forefinger under his chin and raised his face to meet hers.

“Mmm...now that I look at you closely, I can see traces of masculinity...well, I suppose... of sorts.” she said “But your make-up and delicate features disguise this extremely well.

“Mother can take credit for that also.” Caroline said.

“Did I hear my name being mentioned?” A voice called out from the other side of the room. “Nothing bad I hope.”

A statuesque, matronly figure had silently entered and was making her way across the room. Georgina  and Amelia moved to her and she kissed both on either cheek.

“I see you have met our new maid.” she said impassively as she adjusted the apron straps of the maid to her satisfaction. Her brow furrowed slightly as she added in a more officious tone “Have I not told you girl, to ensure your apron straps are properly aligned.”

“Yes Madam.” The maid answered in a faltering voice and curtsied. “I’m sorry, Madam.”

“Oh my...did you see Georgina?” Amelia blurted, a new level of excitement injected into her voice.“He curtsies.”

“Oh my...how wonderful.” Georgina sighed with admiration.

“I take it he passed the test Caroline?” her mother said.

“Yes Mother.” her daughter answered. “The girls thought he was just an awkward, gauche girl, new to domestic service.”

“Quite an accurate description.”  the older woman laughed and addressed her maid with a stern expression “What are you William?”

“An awkward, gauche girl, Madam” he repeated without hesitation, his face betraying a combination of unease and shame.

“But I’m sure we will soon change that. Don’t you agree, dear boy?” Caroline’s mother asked, her voice softening.

“Yes Madam.” he replied immediately and obviously thought it best to curtsy for good measure, his eyes remained lowered, his growing discomfort quite evident as he performed the ignominious act.

 “It appears he is half way there.” Georgina sniggered “He had us fooled.”

“Mmm...perhaps.” Caroline’s mother mused as her eyes scanned the increasingly nervous in front of her.

“We thought the girl...a little nervous, bashful.” Amelia added her voice a mixture of surprise and curiosity, “ As we said awkward and gauche, but never once considered a uniformed housemaid to be male. He really does look the part, ungainly and a halting gait perhaps but I’m sure that can be corrected.”

It took several seconds before Caroline’s mother gathered her thoughts and spoke.

“I suppose I do have very high standards.” she said eventually and made a slight adjustment to his lace cap. “But perhaps you are right he doesn’t look entirely out of place and I suppose he has improved since he first entered service.”

As she fidgeted once more with his apron straps before  looking him in the eyes.

“Do you think you are making progress William?” she asked.

He was suddenly conscious of the quietness in the room and the four women’s eyes fixed on him. It was a dreadful question. A negative answer would surely mean greater hardship, hours of extra and relentless training, such a response would also no doubt embarrass this powerful matron in front of her daughter and her friends. It would mean she had failed.  He dreaded to think what that would mean. For far lesser offenses or breaches of her rules he had already experienced the humiliation of being draped over her knees with his uniform skirt raised and being lectured in the reasons for his punishment. The mandatory six strokes were less painful than the shame and mortification he felt.  It was something he wished to avoid at all costs.

He felt a lump in his throat, instantly recognising it as the male pride he was about to swallow.

“Oh yes, Madam.” he said eagerly, desperate to sound as convincing as possible.

He had learned the hard way that wallowing in self-pity because of his new and unfortunate circumstances would only make a bad situation worse.  It did not take long to discover eagerness and enthusiasm were rewarded or at the very least lessened the threat of being upbraided or even worse, a humiliating encounter with the hairbrush.

 “Good girl.” she beamed rewarding him with a smile and patting him tenderly on his cheek.

Georgina and Amelia clapped like excited circus seals, emitting squeals of approval and proclaimed their admiration in glowing terms for the older woman and her reluctant maidservant.

Inside, he cringed with mortification but knew if such a display of emotion was expressed in his face he would face the consequences.

A practiced smile formed around his lips and he could see that this was warmly received by his tutor. He took some small satisfaction  that he was beginning to understand how to please his new employer and equally importantly how to avoid a scolding.

“How long will he remain with you? Georgina asked.

William’s eyes suddenly lifted from the floor.

It was a question he himself had not dared to ask, having his debt being taken care of had initially been such an overwhelming relief he was afraid to ask too many questions. However, this comfort soon disappeared, being replaced by the shock and confusion when presented with the maid’s uniform he would have to wear. Perhaps now he would know the answer.

“Until I can replace him with a more traditional servant girl.” Caroline answered her friend.

On hearing this, William felt a wave of relief wash over him. The price he had to pay was humiliating in the extreme but now he knew that in a week, perhaps two, he would be free of this ghastly uniform and leave this house behind him.

The women pondered this for a moment as they continued to look at William with serious faces. For some inexplicable reason he suddenly felt anxious.

“So, probably six to nine months.” Georgina said.

“Oh, at the very least given the current shortage in female servants.” Amelia added.

“I was anticipating a year....” Caroline mother said as she positioned herself in front of her maid, “As we know, for some reason girls appear to be reluctant to consider life as a domestic servant as an employment option.”

“S...si...six...months...I ...but...”the young man stammered, clearly unable to comprehend what he had just heard.

“Are you listening you silly girl.” Caroline’s mother chided him as if speaking to a five year old. “It will probably be a year, which considering the amount of money you owe I consider you are getting off lightly.”

“A... a ...year...but I...” he babbled incoherently, clutching his skirts to stop his hands from shaking.

Rooted to the spot, he was barely able to comprehend what he had just heard. It only took a split second to weigh up his options. Fleeing the house, dressed in a housemaid’s uniform and with a sizable debt owing, was not a choice he cared to make.

As he was doing this, Caroline’s mother waved away his feeble attempt at protest.

“I’m not sure you have time to spend in idle chit chat with your social superiors, my girl.” Her voice was soft but laced with  an unmistakeable authority, her forehead furrowed slightly.

He recognised the signs and felt a tingle in his spine as he perceived a nascent irritation in her face.  He had come to realise her mood was greatly enhanced by obedience and subservience.  Whatever chance he had of pleading his case when she was pleased with his performance, he would have little prospect of success if he displeased her.

“I will inspect my bedroom in ten minutes.” Caroline’s mother interrupted his thoughts “I would like to show the ladies how well trained you are after only a few days under my supervision.”

“William!... are you listening to your mistress?” Georgina snapped.

 The word ‘mistress’ seemed to hang in the air like a spectre before enveloping him in yet another layer of humiliation. At that moment he caught sight of the primly uniformed maid in the large mirror, an elegantly dressed society matron, perched on four inch heels looking down on him, hair stiffly permed, her figure discretely suggesting firm foundations garments.  However much he wished he could deny it, there was absolutely no doubt that ‘mistress’ accurately described the woman’s relationship to him.

His heart sank.

His brain immediately pictured her bedroom and a rising panic began to take hold. His list of tasks flashed before his eyes.

Had he made her bed properly? Had he folded her nightgown and peignoir in the way she had instructed? Had he separated her girdles and corselettes and arranged them by colour and style? Had he ensured her shoes were organised by heel height? There were so many things she had instructed him to do, how could he possibly remember them all?

He felt a tiny bead of sweat form on his forehead, he  tried to reassure himself he had carried out her orders to the letter but there remained this lingering, nagging doubt that he had forgotten something and quickly wanted to leave to double check.

“Yes Madam...I’m sorry Madam.” he blurted and noticing the slightly irritated look on her face. He knew instantly what would please her.

He curtsied.

The acknowledgement of her authority was, as he had hoped, instant and once more he was rewarded with a smile.

“Yes William, I think you will make an excellent maidservant.” she smiled, her disposition was now quite pleasant and good-natured.

He feigned a demure expression and lowered his eyes respectfully.

“Once you are fully trained, of course.” she added, still holding his gaze, searching  for the slightest hint of a challenge to her assessment.

The sight of her hairbrush loomed large in his mind’s eye and he knew this time there would be an audience to witness his humiliation.

“Yes Madam, of course Madam.” he blurted

“Good, I am so glad you understand.” she answered with another smile as she lowered herself onto the sofa. “You may go now.”

 “Thank you Madam.” he replied and curtsied once more.

As he reached the door her voice called out,

“Don’t forget William, my bedroom in ten minutes.”

 An involuntary and barely audible whine escaped from his mouth as her eyes locked on his.

 “I sincerely hope everything will be in order.” she said as she patted her lap and smiled at him.

Underneath his light make-up his face paled as he made his way up the stairs to her bedroom.