Nurturing Talent - A Short Continuation with image

  I hadn’t posted anything on Bea’s blog in quite some time so I thought  the story ‘Nurturing Talent’ might do. Hard to believe it’s 5 years since I posted it, however, after re reading it I thought I may be able to expand on it a little. As I’m not sure I could commit to a full chapter, I’ve titled this ‘Mother Takes Charge’.

 

The story  is a very short exploration of what may have happened to our hero after we last met him. It probably has the potential for a continuation so I’ll probably revisit it and complete when I finally finish the 2nd part of ‘Maid for the Role’(which I’d started before I got involved in this latest offering).

Yes –confusing, I know.

Mind you the World Cup, Wimbledon, Le Tour are also vying for what little attention span I have left.

Anyway…

To avoid readers having to re read the full story, here’s a short recap.

Vivian(our hero), a young man with a  singular but unfocused  talent as a fashion designer is mentored  by a mother and daughter(Mrs. Richter and Julia) who have a very established fashion business with excellent connections to the world of haute couture. To nurture his talent and ensure he fulfils his potential but more importantly to protect him from the vicissitudes of a fledgling career in the fashion industry, they have decided to cocoon him at Julia’s house until he hones his talent and becomes established. To this end they have kept his identity secret and his collections are shown under his first name only. He knows their influence within the industry s vital to his ambition and so agrees. Ensconced in this all female environment his masculinity begins to ebb away under various overbearing feminine personalities.

Julia has to leave for a conference and her mother now arrives to assume the role of his guardian/protector but this now means he cannot escape her overprotective and increasingly suffocating maternal nature. She is aided by Julia’s trusted housekeeper Mrs. Caine. Rachel the maid has a minor role where she teases him about his lack of masculinity – yes, I know,  a familiar trope.

So the story picks up as Julia leaves and her mother takes charge. She immediately embraces him and refusing the offer of a maid to unpack she draws him even closer both physically and psychologically. 

Thank you to everyone who has taken the time and trouble to comment on previous stories and also for your support and encouragement. It means a great deal.

I hope you find this very short piece enjoyable.

Take care 

Carrie 

Nurturing Talent

     (Mother Takes Charge)

By 

CarrieP

Perhaps there is nothing a little more unsettling than to be within reach of escaping an emotionally disconcerting situation and not being able to grasp the opportunity. 

Locked in the firm, vice like embrace of Julia’s mother’s embrace Vivian now found himself in just such a predicament.

Mere yards away, the open door of the bedroom beckoned but the restricting grip of this formidable woman’s arm rendered him immobile and he suddenly felt a tightening in his stomach. Mrs. Richter once more smiled benevolently at the young man feebly trying, to free himself, his actions although quite useless against her strong grip nevertheless began to slightly irritate her.

“Oh do stop struggling, my darling boy.” she chided him as her hand fell to his buttocks and she patted the left cheek, the action was sufficiently firm enough to revive a recent memory in Vivian.“ I don’t think either of us wants a repeat of the last time you were difficult. Now do we?”

He blushed furiously at the mention of that shameful episode.

“E…emm…aah…no.”he stammered.

“Excellent.” she beamed and turned to Mrs. Caine. “Obedience from young people is most important, Mrs. Caine. I’m sure you agree?

“Of course, Madam.” the housekeeper answered “But Mister Vivian is always so well behaved and compliant I rarely have reason to correct him- unlike some of the other servants.”

Correct him. Other servants. The words rattled him, was she really including him among the household servants? He briefly thought about challenging her but immediately decided that this would not be well received by Mrs. Richter and as Mrs. Caine was usually well disposed towards him he swallowed his pride . 

 “Vivian is so meticulous and understands my needs so well I won’t need a maid to attend me.” she smiled at him “After all he is like a second daughter. I feel so comfortable with him.”

His cheeks took on a crimson hue, this was a step too far and finally mustering the courage he was just about to protest but before he could Mrs. Caine quickly interjected, 

“He certainly is a most delightful young person, polite, courteous, diffident and...”she paused and smiled tenderly at him before continuing “I do hope I am not embarrassing him…quite deferential  and demure. And I hope you won’t mind be saying so Madam, so very unlike Miss Caroline’s previous male friends all of whom were ghastly, arrogant young men.”

“Oh you’re not embarrassing him at all, Mrs. Caine. I’m sure there are more disconcerting things.” Mrs. Richter answered with a knowing smile her expression which seemed one of positive anticipation yet underneath he sensed a hint of threat, “Isn’t that right, darling?”

Her remark once more  immediately resurrected the unwanted and barely suppressed memory of that recent encounter with her which, thankfully although private, was indeed extremely distressing not to mention exceptionally humiliating. Naturally, in the wake of this incident he had thought about leaving but he was now on the cusp a major career breakthrough which, undoubtedly,  was almost entirely due to Mrs. Richter and Caroline’s promotion of his work. However, more importantly their extensive contacts in not only in the fashion industry but also in high society were unrivalled and any young designer would have gladly switched places with him. He immediately concluded that the trouble an objection would cause would was not worth risking his future. 

“No…no… not at all Mrs. Richter.” he lied rather convincingly.

“You really are a darling boy.” she gushed, her excitement at his acquiescence evident as her demeanor instantly transformed, her face softened and she smiled on him warmly and much to his relief he knew he was back in her good graces. However, the reprieve did not last as she quickly added “But Mrs. Richter is far too impersonal, we have become far too close for such formal address. As I have said to Mrs. Caine and my dearest friends you have quickly become part of my family. I’m sure you feel this too.”

Only too well aware he had just avoided a potential very contentious quarrel and despite his reservations he felt it better to humour her and if he was truthful he did have to concede, that  she and Caroline had been incredibly welcoming, supportive and understanding. Having no family of his own they had become the closest thing he had to one.

“Em…yes…yes… of course.” he answered.

“Excellent, you see Mrs. Caine I knew he felt the same.” she said, her enthusiasm overflowing as she embraced him. “Now you reallly must call me ‘Mother’…I insist.” 

She said it with such authority as if it was an honour bestowed by the Queen.

“Aah..b…but…I’m…er…”he babbled incoherently.

“Oh come now, Vivian.” she murmured in an encouraging, almost girlish tone,”It really would mean so much to me and I have a dear friend  arriving later this evening that could be of immense assistance in furthering your career. She knows I have nurtured you for quite some time and I have often spoken of you as like my own child and how you feel the same. I have told her all about you and have shown her your latest work, she is most excited to meet you.”

“Aah…I…”the verbal incontinence continued, unable as he was to find the words for an adequate refusal.

“Perhaps you have heard of Helena Heppenstall” she interrupted his stammering.

“Helena Heppenstall.” he blurted, his mouth agape. “The  editor of…”

“French Vogue.”she finished his sentence. “Just imagine what she could do to promote our business and more importantly your latest collection. As I’ve said , I’ve told her I consider you as  another of my children and that the feelings are reciprocated. Once she sees just how close we are I expect she will want to help us in any way possible.”

“Helena Heppenstall.”he repeated almost reverentially.

“Yes, one of my dearest friends. Of course, if you don’t’ want to indulge my maternal instincts and address me as ‘Mother’…” Mrs Richter said, her eyebrows arching in a vaguely cautionary manner, “…I fully understand.”

Helena Heppenstall the name echoed loudly in his brain. There is no one in the fashion world that doesn’t know that name. It is legendary and has made and broken reputations. Fashion designers on both sides of the Atlantic were both  in awe and fearful of her. And now  Mrs. Richter will  introduce me. I suppose calling Mrs. Richter ‘Mother’ may sound quite docile, girlish even, but if it means it would gain favour with Helena Heppenstall then it is a small price to pay.

Such was his excitement at the prospect of meeting the great woman, any thought of male dignity and self-respect was fleeting and barely considered. Both could easily and in good conscience be sacrificed on the altar of ambition.

“Oh no, not all Mother.” he gushed enthusiastically without even a hint of embarrassment.

Both women shared a knowing glance before Mrs. Richter, arms outstretched said in a tone that was strangely both inviting and commanding.

“You darling boy. Now come give Mother a kiss.”

 He wasn’t expecting such a reaction and briefly hesitated enough for Mrs. Richter to reissue her instruction,

“Vivian, I do hope you are not going to be obdurate. Now come give Mother a kiss.”

This was the third time in the space of minutes that her voice triggered the memory of the last occasion he had disregarded one of her requests. Suddenly fearful, he didn’t need to be told again and moved silently and with trepidation into her open arms which immediately enveloped him, drawing him into her ample bosom, holding him so tightly that her fleshy mounds pressed heavily against his chest. Flustered by this unsolicited physical intimacy he felt slightly  unbalanced and slipped him arms around her waist to prevent falling. He could feel the steel stays in her foundation wear and the wiring in her brassiere as he clung to her.

“Don’t you worry, my dear.” She said softly as she tightened her embrace and in the mirror he could see they were almost joined at the hips. “Mother won’t let you fall.”

Despite his natural reserve for such physical proximity to her and very much to his alarm a familiar, but now very much unwanted, stirring began to manifest itself between his legs and was growing at a most alarming rate. 

She proffered her cheek for him to kiss and as he did so he tried to move his hips away from her body but her strong arm kept them firmly anchored to hers. The ghastly, almost feminine dark silk Plazzo pants that Julia insisted he wore, for creative inspiration she said, did not prove in any way to be restraining. If only he had been allowed to wear his normal clothes this would not have been as evident and as she waited, eyes closed, for his kiss, his worst fears were realized. Her eyes flicked open as she suddenly became aware of something pressing against her.

“Oh dear.” She said as she felt the protuberance brush against her most intimate area, her tone was one of mild surprise rather than aggrieved. He lowered his eyes in shame and his cheeks became crimson. She maintained one arm on his shoulder, tethering him to her while the other arm dropped to his waist and her hand touched the offending organ. He moved uncomfortably and was unable to stop a low whine from leaving his mouth.

“Is everything all right Madam?” Mrs. Caine interjected with a note of concern.

 “A most unfortunate, yet typical male reaction I’m afraid,Mrs. Caine.” she sighed wearily and stepped back to allow the other woamn to view the unseemly rigid, elongated bulge in his palazzo pants.

  “Oh dear Madam.” Mrs. Caine echoed her mistress’s reaction. “In my experience it is always a risk one encounters when coming into physical contact with males. However, under Miss Julia’s guidance, Mister Vivian has made great strides since he has joined the household but I fear there are just some odious male tendencies  that are unavoidable. I’m sure Mister Vivian is trying to control the male’s base instincts but as the maids have told me there continues to be unsightly stains on his sheets, nightwear and various other items of clothing.”

Sandwiched between the two imposing women, unable to flee he was forced to listen to the mortifying evidence of nocturnal mishaps. Even worse, throughout the exchange  Mrs. Richter, held  his engorged member between her thumb and forefinger as if it was something she had retrieved from a trashcan in order to allow Mrs. Caine to view the offending article. Despite these dreadful circumstances and due mainly to her occasionally applying pressure his organ remained, like his mental state, quite tense. His face now blazed intensely with humiliation.

“Ooh…aah…I…it’s just…I…can…it…I mean…”he struggled to explain as she squeezed it gently

“How very disappointing.” Mrs. Richter lamented, ignoring his obvious discomfort, her face wearing a slightly dejected look. “I had hoped Vivian would be different, would be above such depraved behavior.”

Mrs. Caine’s face bore a similar expression.

“I…I’m so… sorry, Mrs…”he finally managed through the wall of shame and despondency.

“Mother.” Mrs. Richter corrected him gently but firmly, her hand now fully enclosing the shaft and applying more gentle pressure she made her way to the bed with him shuffling in half steps to keep up.

“Aah…Mother…I’m so sorry Mother.” he  moaned.

“What if this happens when Miss Heppenstall  greets you in a similar fashion.” she asked as she positioned both of them at the bed and sat, her grip gently flexing and relaxing as he continued to struggle to maintain his restraint. “It would be most embarrassing for us all, I’m sure you agree?”

He was having enormous difficulty in preserving his control, his loose underwear and  flimsy material of his pants may as well not have existed. Unless she ceased her ministrations he knew he would be unable to sustain his Herculean efforts.

“Y…ye…yes…Mother…I…”he blurted.

“I’m so glad you agree.”she cooed as she looked him directly in the eyes, her hand applying a little more pressure and moving towards the organ’s head. “Fortunately, I had anticipated that something  like this would happen so it’s best that we take the appropriate precautions to prevent a reoccurrence  You do understand?”

His breathing became labored and he nodded but her arched eyebrows told him she wanted a verbal confirmation. Her hand moved as she clasped it tightly once more.

“And you will comply with all my wishes?”she asked, her eyes still holding his now agitated gaze.

“Y…yes…please..yes…Mother…yes…please…”he struggled.

“Say it.”she said softly

“I…aah…aah… will … comply with all…aah… your wishes.” he struggled through the torment.

“Excellent.” she beamed and gave one final long compression of her fingers.

A long low moan filled the silence as she watched him twitch and writhe before allowing him to fall back onto the deep satin quilt.

His eyes remained closed for what seemed like an hour as his heart slowed and his breathing returned to normal .The enormity of what had just happened now became crystal clear and a deep mortification covered him like a blanket. The women’s voices seeped into his ears,

“Males have such little control, Mrs Caine.” Mrs. Richter said wearily wiping her hands on a towel Mrs. Caine had provided.

“Just as well you  took the action when  you did, Madam.” Mrs Caine replied gravely and looking at the wet stain on his pants added in an almost disillusioned voice.”It would be dreadful and most distressing if he was unable to manage that…that…thing when meeting Ms. Heppenstall. ”

“True.” Mrs. Richter said  and looking down on the still prone frame, whose eyes remained closed in shame  before adding, “But I suppose it is not the poor boy’s fault, he is the victim of his accursed nature and at the mercy of its whims.  They are more to be pitied than railed against. Unlike the superior sex, he cannot control his urges but at least he is now purged of that vile fluid and has had the good sense to agree that he will in future comply with my wishes in helping to prevent such hideous behavior.”

She bent down and whispered gently in his ear,

“Mother knows best. Isn’t that so Vivian, my darling?”

Exhausted, utterly degraded and humiliated he was so relieved that she did not seem angry or resentful and opening his eyes he had no difficulty in replying,

“Yes Mother, of course, Mother.”

“Now run along with Mrs. Caine.” She said as she began to open a suitcase that Rachel had previously deposited on the large bed.“She will run your bath while I lay out your new outfit to meet Miss Heppenstall.”

“There is no need, I can…” he gently tried to object.

“Vivian.” she interrupted him immediately in a voice of unmistakable authority that left him in no doubt that protest would not be tolerated. 

Considering what had just occurred and his foolish, if necessary, agreement to obey her he quickly decided this was not the time to risk darkening her mood. More importantly a meeting with Ms. Heppenstall beckoned. He lowered his eyes and with a now almost natural reaction answered timidly,

“Yes Mother.” 

Mrs. Caine slipped her hand into his much as an adult would do to a child and as she began to guide him to the bathroom, Mrs. Richter, holding up a formidable garment, called out,

“Before you go Mrs. Caine, do you think this long form girdle  is sufficiently robust and controlling  it has a double gusset  that can be drawn up between the legs to ensure his inguinal area is kept nice and smooth with no hint of that ghastly organ.”

‘Long form girdle…drawn up between his legs.’ The words reverberated in his brain and it suddenly dawned on him what she was proposing.

“A…aah…”a low but distinct whine left his mouth and he could feel his knees tremble, he looked from one woman to the other “But…you…can’t mean…”

“Oh do be quiet Vivian.” Mrs. Richter snapped “Can’t you see we are trying to decide on an appropriate foundation garment for you.”

“F…found…foundation…”the word tumbled from his mouth in an unintelligible steam. 

The horror of this shocking and unacceptable proposal roused a latent, almost forgotten masculine reaction, however, due to the circumstances he felt an obligation to restrain  the tone of his objection.

“But that’s a…”he began his putative protest but was immediately interrupted by Mrs.Richter,

“A girdle. An item of women’s underwear. Yes, of course it is. How else to you think that…dreadful, obnoxious thing between your legs can be kept under control. “

She fixed him with a steely stare that made him suddenly swallow hard as she then slowly turned her head towards the dressing table where, among the various bottle of make-up and face creams ,glinting in the sunlight, sat a long handled wide silver hairbrush. 

“Vivian, we have already discussed this.” Her voice was low and controlled, “I do hope you are not going to be as difficult as you were previously.”

“But Mrs…”he began but an unmistakable stern look quickly reminded him of his new obligation.”But…Mother…please I promise…”

“Too late for that I’m afraid, young lady.” she responded in a tone that left him in no doubt as to her intentions. “We cannot risk you humiliating Ms. Heppenstall. And I’m sure you really don’t want to do that.”

Such was his confusion and alarm at the prospective of wearing such a uniquely feminine garment that the words ’young lady’ did not even register. He opened his mouth but Mrs. Caine spoke first.

“If I may make a suggestion Madam, this particular garment may be a bit bulky under his new outfit.” She said and smiled at him “And black may show through the material.”

He nodded enthusiastically, relieved that at least Mrs. Caine saw just how ridiculous this suggestion was. Mrs. Caine continued,

 “Perhaps, a long legged corselette in beige or tea rose may be a better option. It would achieve the preferred objective and be quite confining in the…ahem…appropriate area. It would also have the advantage of a sleeker look under his new outfit.”

“Aaah…” he emitted yet another fearful moan as his erstwhile ally deserted him and in shock he repeated, ”Cor…corselette”.

“Yes Mister Vivian.” Mrs. Caine replied enthusiastically noting his alarm “And the long legged design of the garment would lend a degree of masculinity. Surely, this would overcome your objections?”

“Aaah…”he could only repeat.

“Excellent idea, Mrs. Caine.” Mrs. Richter said, clearly delighted at the suggestion. “I’m so glad that we could find a suitable compromise and we are all satisfied.  Luckily I have just such a garment in my luggage. You won’t mind wearing one of Mother’s corselettes now will you darling?” 

He just stood openmouthed and speechless, still trying to process what she was proposing.

 “No, I didn’t think you would.” she said smiling at him and turning to Mrs. Caine added, “Have him bathed and perfumed, I will have his new corsellete and outfit ready when you return.”

She dismissed him with a wave of her hand and busied herself with her luggage. 

He wanted to run but even if he did  he knew he would be running out on his life’s ambition.

He offered no resistance as Mrs. Caine once more took him by the hand and guided him towards the door and as she opened it  she whispered in his ear,

 “I hope you realize how lucky you are.”

It had all become too much for him, he was about to be forced into  women’s corsetry and Mrs. Caine was telling him how lucky he was. Looking up at her and unable to comprehend what she meant, a tear began rolling down his cheek.

“Madam only wears Dior foundations and lingerie. Most girls your age never get to wear such beautiful garments.” Mrs. Caine comforted him.

As his head dropped and the sound of his sobbing filled the room, he could not see the smile on Mrs. Richter’s handsome face.

 

Maid for the Role- New story and image

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Take care,

Carrie

Maid for the Role

By

CarrieP

P

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

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

He maintained his silence, his mouth dry with dread.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now he had to live with the consequences.

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

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

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

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

“Edward!”  she snapped.

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

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

His audible gasp made her smile even more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sadly, he was wrong.

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

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

He went to retrieve the satin robe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

However, he was not.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes Mother.”

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

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

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

“Yes Mother.” he replied automatically.

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

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

“Yes Madam.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now thank Madam, like a good girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Before he had time to object the older woman responded.

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

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

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

Martha’s face appeared less than enthusiastic.

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

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

Her curt admonition had the desired effect.

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

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

“You disagree, Martha?”

The girl remained silent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His answer came almost naturally in a suitably deferential tone.

“Yes Madam.”

She then turned to address Martha.

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

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

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

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

“Come along, girl.”

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

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

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

 

To be continued.

 

 

 

Most Unfortunate Side Effects - New Captioned Image

 

Most Unfortunate Side Effects

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

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

Oh well, we can but dream.

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

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

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

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

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

 

Thanks again for reading and hope you enjoy the caption.

Take care 

Carrie

Maid for the Role - New Image and caption

 Maid for the Role

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

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

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

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

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

Whatever floats your boat, I suppose.

Take care 

Carrie